Doctor Who musings
The perils of insomnia have struck again. Well, that and boredom while getting over a sinus infection... Perhaps I should start at the beginning, yeah?
First off, I have never seen Doctor Who all the way through, neither the relaunch nor the classic episodes. It was recommended to me years ago, just after the fifth season had been completed, and my ex procured the episodes for me to watch, but they remained untouched, since I felt no motivation to watch them. None of my close friends were in the fandom, and I felt there was no one worth sharing it, should I enjoy it. Then my niece became obsessed with it, so I figured I would give it a go.
I slowly made my way through the first few episodes without feeling that hook of connection, so I eventually dwindled interest and let it fall to the wayside for a few months as something I would watch only when bored or feeling disconnected from my niece, all before finishing the first season. It then became something I forgot about, perhaps thinking it was just not for me.
This all changed about a year ago. A now former friend of mine was watching the fifth and sixth seasons due to an obsession with Matt Smith, the eleventh incarnation of the Doctor, and I found myself falling for the character and anticipating the next storyline.
It was then that the spark of interest ignited, and I thought this Doctor as my Doctor, the only I most related to. I began the journey of catching up to this Doctor, to understand him more and to understand the show more. I felt at this time that I was just rushing through to get to my Doctor, just adding background to the character as if he were in one of my fanfictions. What I had not counted on was the brilliance and magnificence that encompassed the tenth incarnation.
I found myself slowly falling in love with this new Doctor, and before I knew what was happening, his time grew near to completion. I should have been elated- this was what I had been waiting for, watching for. My Doctor would be appearing soon. But I found myself dreading it instead. I found myself putting off the inevitable, savoring each episode with the knowledge of how finite they were. It was only here in the last few moments with the Tenth Doctor that I realized that he had become my Doctor. And I didn't want to see him go.
I cried. I wept the tears of the defeated and continued to put off my fate. But tonight, I decided that my desire to watch that brilliance in action had outweighed my need to put it off just that much longer.
Oh, but of course I found other ways to put the envelope as far as I could. I made sure I had seen every special, every promo that would contain my Doctor, not wishing to miss a single moment. But then the time came, as it was always looming silently in the background. It was time, time to finish it. And oh, how fitting that the name of the episode was "The End of Time."
I isolated myself for the next two hours, my drink and box of tissues within arm's reach. And as the events unfolded before my very eyes, I was unable to prevent the continuous flow of tears streaming down my face. My heart broke, as I knew it would, when I I watched the regeneration complete. There was my former Doctor, but all I could feel was sorrow that he was no longer my Doctor. And, no matter how hard I try, he can never take the place in my heart that is now occupied by the Tenth incarnation.
So, why am I sharing this, you may be asking? Well, because insomnia has taken hold of me after such a gripping moment, and I felt the need to share with anyone besides my very worried cat... :-)
First off, I have never seen Doctor Who all the way through, neither the relaunch nor the classic episodes. It was recommended to me years ago, just after the fifth season had been completed, and my ex procured the episodes for me to watch, but they remained untouched, since I felt no motivation to watch them. None of my close friends were in the fandom, and I felt there was no one worth sharing it, should I enjoy it. Then my niece became obsessed with it, so I figured I would give it a go.
I slowly made my way through the first few episodes without feeling that hook of connection, so I eventually dwindled interest and let it fall to the wayside for a few months as something I would watch only when bored or feeling disconnected from my niece, all before finishing the first season. It then became something I forgot about, perhaps thinking it was just not for me.
This all changed about a year ago. A now former friend of mine was watching the fifth and sixth seasons due to an obsession with Matt Smith, the eleventh incarnation of the Doctor, and I found myself falling for the character and anticipating the next storyline.
It was then that the spark of interest ignited, and I thought this Doctor as my Doctor, the only I most related to. I began the journey of catching up to this Doctor, to understand him more and to understand the show more. I felt at this time that I was just rushing through to get to my Doctor, just adding background to the character as if he were in one of my fanfictions. What I had not counted on was the brilliance and magnificence that encompassed the tenth incarnation.
I found myself slowly falling in love with this new Doctor, and before I knew what was happening, his time grew near to completion. I should have been elated- this was what I had been waiting for, watching for. My Doctor would be appearing soon. But I found myself dreading it instead. I found myself putting off the inevitable, savoring each episode with the knowledge of how finite they were. It was only here in the last few moments with the Tenth Doctor that I realized that he had become my Doctor. And I didn't want to see him go.
I cried. I wept the tears of the defeated and continued to put off my fate. But tonight, I decided that my desire to watch that brilliance in action had outweighed my need to put it off just that much longer.
Oh, but of course I found other ways to put the envelope as far as I could. I made sure I had seen every special, every promo that would contain my Doctor, not wishing to miss a single moment. But then the time came, as it was always looming silently in the background. It was time, time to finish it. And oh, how fitting that the name of the episode was "The End of Time."
I isolated myself for the next two hours, my drink and box of tissues within arm's reach. And as the events unfolded before my very eyes, I was unable to prevent the continuous flow of tears streaming down my face. My heart broke, as I knew it would, when I I watched the regeneration complete. There was my former Doctor, but all I could feel was sorrow that he was no longer my Doctor. And, no matter how hard I try, he can never take the place in my heart that is now occupied by the Tenth incarnation.
So, why am I sharing this, you may be asking? Well, because insomnia has taken hold of me after such a gripping moment, and I felt the need to share with anyone besides my very worried cat... :-)