My baby is sleeping and I've officially caught up on everyone's blogs. I've also cleaned my living room, finished my laundry (washed, folded AND put away all in the same day. Wonders never cease.) AND have begun defrosting dinner. (Which means I put frozen meat in a bowl of hot water. Be impressed.)
I live my life through a series of obsessions. It's a delightfully nerdy way to live. When I was eight, I couldn't get over The Babysitter's Club. I read every single book in the series and even formed my own "Babysitter's Club" with my very good friends, Jenni and Gracie. Good times they were; waiting desperately by the phone for the calls of parents needing a sitter and offering cash. Spoilers: They never came. At least there were snacks.
Then I turned eleven and became much more sophisticated and delved into the world of Harry Potter, never to fully return to reality. I still read the entire series about once ever two years and will probably do this for the rest of my life. I don't think I can accurately describe my love for that world...or at least...I can't describe what it used to be. Imagine a large-ish explosion of joy and giddy noise. That was me every time I heard a word that rhymed with 'muggle'.
Then, I went through my American Idol phase. Every Tuesday and Wednesday night I would turn the volume up as loud as I could without being kicked out by my parents. I would then become drastically attached to certain contestants and would hope with all the fervor that a 15-year-old heart could muster that Paula and Simon were secretly lovers. But it was after the show ended that the true nerd-fest could begin. We're talking hours of singing whiney ballads into hairbrushes for a rapt audience of stuffies. Until my dad would come in and tell me the madness must cease. I'm not lying, guys, it was awesome.
We're not going to talk about my tiny Twilight phase...mostly because people I really respect read this blog and I don't want them to learn the truth. So we'll skip over that and briefly mention Star Trek, (remember that Thanksgiving break when my entire family rented and watched EVERY. SINGLE. MOVIE.?) Pirates of the Caribbean, Lord of the Rings, and pretty much any other nerdy, main-stream movie or book that was being produced. I devoured them all.
I also delved into the area of obsession over Broadway shows which is an entirely other category of nerd. Steven Sondheim and I had out moment in the sun; Into the Woods, Sweeney Todd, Sunday in the Park With George...I learned them all by heart. Any musical that used to be a Disney movie also won my heart. And I had to allow room for the Phantom of the Opera and Wicked goodness since everyone and their dog loved it even if they didn't know Broadway like I knew Broadway.
Then, suddenly, life became real and the well of obsession ran dry for a couple of years. I mean, I still loved movies and books and musicals and all kinds of good things...but it wasn't the same. It wasn't live or die love. It wasn't heart pounding, can't wait to get my hands, eyes and ears all OVER that business kind of interest. I read The Hunger Games during this dry spell. Loved those books...but that was it. I just loved them. I didn't live them.
I've been missing those moments where my thoughts and rare spare moments have been filled with something that I just can't get enough of. I've been hoping and wishing that something would come along. In desperation, I've been re-reading and re-watching some old favorites; hoping that something would ignite the spark that I know is in me to fall in love with a story. And I liked it all, as I always do...but it didn't make me feel like thing. That "GAH!" thing. You know?
So then, Michelle and Andrea were like, "Hey, you should watch Doctor Who."
And I was like, "No. It's stupid."
And they were like, "No. It's brilliant. And you'd love it."
And I was like, "No. I'm too pregnant." Which didn't make any sense, but at the time, I was using that excuse for just about everything.
But as I started getting settled in Bakersfield after our move and started getting more and more pregnant and more and more restless, I finally relented out of sheer boredom. But I decided I'd make fun of it as thoroughly as I could. I was determined to stay detached. I was desperate not to love it. I was convinced that I would never stoop so low as to be associated with the amount of nerdiness required to love that show. I mean, he flies through time and space in a blue police box and has adventures.
My plan worked for the first season. It was horrifyingly cheesy. The only reason I stuck with it was because there would be an odd episode here and there that was scary enough that I was mildly entertained. Also, I was so pregnant and it was so hot that I was basically stuck on the couch and Michelle and Andrea forced it on me. And then...David Tennant became the Doctor. And my world began to become a little bit more exciting. And then it became more exciting. And more exciting. And every episode made me happier and happier. And that spark...that "GAH!" began to flicker.
I remember very distinctly the moments following David Tennant's farewell and Matt Smith's debut as the new Doctor. Shem watched David's final episode with us. We drove home together after it was over. I don't remember what we talked about because my memories of the night consist of the Luke-sized lump in my throat as I choked back the tears that were threatening to escape and embarrass the snot out of me in front of my ridiculously good-looking husband. Later, when I was alone, I would unleash the torrents of hysteric sobs and be embarrassed only in front of me. And boyyyy did I judge myself for that moment. I'm still judging myself for that moment. But that was the moment! The "GAH!" moment. The moment where I realized, "Finally! I've found that new something. I. Am. So. Excited."
So, I gave Matt Smith a chance even though I was convinced I'd never love him like I'd loved David. But then, they gave us River and now my Doctor Who obsession is complete and all-encompasing. I can't get enough. I love every bit of it. I love the writing, the directing, the acting, the story, the characters, the special effects (okay, I lied about the special effects...let's face it...they're kinda Power Rangers meets 2001: Space Odyssey. They make you want to die.) I've been...converted, if you will. And now, with only two more episodes until the season 6 finale...I am dying a little on the inside. It'll be 2 or 3 more months until my "GAH!" can once again be satisfied. But I can't resist...I just want to devour the remaining three episodes.
I love life. There are just so many fun things to enjoy. So many "GAH!" moments to live through. I live for my "GAH!" moments. Everyone needs one every once in a while...they make all things become fantastic.
To my fellow Whovians:
May you continue to tweet Steven Moffat ceaselessly to inform him that we would (please) demand that River become the new companion when Amy and Rory have bade the show adieu.
And to those of you who have a little nerd in your heart:
I highly recommend Doctor Who as your next nerdy endeavor.
And to those of you who are judging me for this entire post:
Why are you still reading this?? I'm a little impressed that you made it through the whole thing.