but just because they can't feel it too doesn't mean that you have to forget.
Okay, fandom, we have new Doctor Who updates so you can commence to explode everywhere like a giant messy thing. Right.
Set pictures from the Sun.
As far as I can see the usual Moff-rage (heh, Moffrage, I like that) has started up, and the Greek Chorus of IT IS NOT MY SHOW ANYMORE I DO NOT CARE I AM NOT WATCHING EXCEPT HIS OUTFIT IS KIND OF SILLY AND CUTE has taken up its position. *waves* And those looking forward to Moffat are chiming in, so we're all having a grand old party. Yay! (I think Doctor Who fandom should have a trademark drink. I have pineapple rum here if anyone cares to invent anything. Or wait, banananananana daiquiries? )
However, while we're talking about Moffatt and Gilian Whatsername (?) and other things that come out of places around Ayrshire *coughGerry Butler anyone? is looking fine these days cough* the Sun ALSO reports that the Holy Grail is hanging out there. Marvelous place, Ayrshire, apparently. Robbie Burns liked it, after all.
Anyway.
But like I said earlier, both Eleven and.. Amy Pond? Is that her name? look like they're about, ironically, eleven years old. As I commented to thunderemerald , this gives me great hope for this new generation of the series. Cause you know? A good portion of this show was, for me, The Doctor And Rose Show (and occasionally The Donna Is Excellent, Has Adventures, and Is Badass At Filing Show, which also gave me great hope for just my life in general.) That show is not here anymore, but it IS in another universe, and I am content with that. We were all worried that Moff would make the Doctor forget Rose and snog everyone in sight like an alien slutboi but I don't care anymore because (a) Rose and the Doctor are happy and (b) the Doctor is now total jailbait.
Instead, how I see these pictures is that River Song is actually their babysitter for some reason and also this may become a different sort of story. You know those kids' books you read, with the child detectives who met when they discovered the same cave in the woods, who accidentally stumbled on buried treasure, were pursued by wonderfully nasty villains and solved some hundred-year-old mystery? And they had adventures and nobody expected romance and drama and Terrible Life Choices out of them becuase they were TEN YEARS OLD? Weren't those stories fun?
Wouldn't that be a fun series five? My heart is still actually bleeding about Donna, guys, cut me some slack.
I'm not saying that this should become Sarah Jane Adventures (nothing against that, mind you, that's fun too) and I'm not saying that the Doctor is, was, and forever will be asexual***, but after all that has happened... yes, I'm ready for them to be a bit more childlike. Torchwood just told us that the universe is a shitty place, with no heroes. I'd like something just as well written that reminded us that the universe is a beautiful, noble place, too.
***Yes, there is all that oldschool/newschool debate about whether the Doctor is asexual. As a woman who publicly identifies her sexual orientation as asexual I do intend on writing a post soon eventually about this and the varieties of asexual experience, and some of the misconceptions of asexuality that carry over into this debate.
I'm reading Chesterton for the moment, who has a wonderful talent of showing the violent beauty of the world.
As they came over the hill and down on the other side of it, it is not too much to say that the whole universe of God opened over them and under them, like a thing unfolding to five times its size. Almost under their feet opened the enormous sea, at the bottom of a steep valley which fell down into a bay; and the sea under their feet blazed at them almost as lustrous and almost as empty as the sky. The sunrise opened above them like some cosmic explosion, shining and shattering and yet silent; as if the world were blown to pieces without a sound. Round the rays of the victorious sun swept a sort of rainbow of confused and conquered colours-brown and blue and green and flaming rose-colour; as though gold were driving before it all the colours of the world. The lines of the landscape down which they sped, were the simple, strict, yet swerving, lines of a rushing river; so that it was almost as if they were being sucked down in a huge still whirlpool. Turnbull had some such feeling, for he spoke for the first time for many hours.
"If we go down at this rate we shall be over the sea cliff," he said.
"How glorious!" said MacIan.
chapter ten, The Ball and the Cross, by G.K. Chesterton
Set pictures from the Sun.
As far as I can see the usual Moff-rage (heh, Moffrage, I like that) has started up, and the Greek Chorus of IT IS NOT MY SHOW ANYMORE I DO NOT CARE I AM NOT WATCHING EXCEPT HIS OUTFIT IS KIND OF SILLY AND CUTE has taken up its position. *waves* And those looking forward to Moffat are chiming in, so we're all having a grand old party. Yay! (I think Doctor Who fandom should have a trademark drink. I have pineapple rum here if anyone cares to invent anything. Or wait, banananananana daiquiries? )
However, while we're talking about Moffatt and Gilian Whatsername (?) and other things that come out of places around Ayrshire *coughGerry Butler anyone? is looking fine these days cough* the Sun ALSO reports that the Holy Grail is hanging out there. Marvelous place, Ayrshire, apparently. Robbie Burns liked it, after all.
Anyway.
But like I said earlier, both Eleven and.. Amy Pond? Is that her name? look like they're about, ironically, eleven years old. As I commented to thunderemerald , this gives me great hope for this new generation of the series. Cause you know? A good portion of this show was, for me, The Doctor And Rose Show (and occasionally The Donna Is Excellent, Has Adventures, and Is Badass At Filing Show, which also gave me great hope for just my life in general.) That show is not here anymore, but it IS in another universe, and I am content with that. We were all worried that Moff would make the Doctor forget Rose and snog everyone in sight like an alien slutboi but I don't care anymore because (a) Rose and the Doctor are happy and (b) the Doctor is now total jailbait.
Instead, how I see these pictures is that River Song is actually their babysitter for some reason and also this may become a different sort of story. You know those kids' books you read, with the child detectives who met when they discovered the same cave in the woods, who accidentally stumbled on buried treasure, were pursued by wonderfully nasty villains and solved some hundred-year-old mystery? And they had adventures and nobody expected romance and drama and Terrible Life Choices out of them becuase they were TEN YEARS OLD? Weren't those stories fun?
Wouldn't that be a fun series five? My heart is still actually bleeding about Donna, guys, cut me some slack.
I'm not saying that this should become Sarah Jane Adventures (nothing against that, mind you, that's fun too) and I'm not saying that the Doctor is, was, and forever will be asexual***, but after all that has happened... yes, I'm ready for them to be a bit more childlike. Torchwood just told us that the universe is a shitty place, with no heroes. I'd like something just as well written that reminded us that the universe is a beautiful, noble place, too.
***Yes, there is all that oldschool/newschool debate about whether the Doctor is asexual. As a woman who publicly identifies her sexual orientation as asexual I do intend on writing a post soon eventually about this and the varieties of asexual experience, and some of the misconceptions of asexuality that carry over into this debate.
I'm reading Chesterton for the moment, who has a wonderful talent of showing the violent beauty of the world.
As they came over the hill and down on the other side of it, it is not too much to say that the whole universe of God opened over them and under them, like a thing unfolding to five times its size. Almost under their feet opened the enormous sea, at the bottom of a steep valley which fell down into a bay; and the sea under their feet blazed at them almost as lustrous and almost as empty as the sky. The sunrise opened above them like some cosmic explosion, shining and shattering and yet silent; as if the world were blown to pieces without a sound. Round the rays of the victorious sun swept a sort of rainbow of confused and conquered colours-brown and blue and green and flaming rose-colour; as though gold were driving before it all the colours of the world. The lines of the landscape down which they sped, were the simple, strict, yet swerving, lines of a rushing river; so that it was almost as if they were being sucked down in a huge still whirlpool. Turnbull had some such feeling, for he spoke for the first time for many hours.
"If we go down at this rate we shall be over the sea cliff," he said.
"How glorious!" said MacIan.
chapter ten, The Ball and the Cross, by G.K. Chesterton