Five ways Doctor Who ruined my life

(I took inspiration from this post, and did my own spin on it.)

Having stumbled across DW about... Oh, three years ago or so, I'm rather embarrassed to admit it has eaten away at my mindset. I had heard about it through the grapevine, and one drizzly night in my dorm room, looking for away to distract me from one of my school papers (the way obsessions usually start) I discovered it through a music video. My curiosity was piqued, because I had no idea who these people were or what it was about.

But little did I know that within a year it would become a full blown obsession--re: this post (hahaha). These days, I can't get enough of re-watching old episodes, youtube clips, and I get irrationally excited when a new episode comes on. I know most of what has happened on the show, but that's probably a fraction of what has gone on.

I debated about creating this post, because part of me said it would make me look like obsessed *Whovian* (god, that term), while the other half was saying it would be kind of fun to put together.

At the end of the day, however, I kind of am an obsessed DW crazeh. So I figured that in lieu of the new series, I'd present to you five ways Doctor Who has ruined my life:

1. Reluctantly accepting that no space craft called a TARDIS is going to ever materialize on the street outside of my house. Ahh, many a time I would have liked a blue box to drop into my life. Especially while at university, when I was really into it and just wanted something to escape from the conditions of my average, boring human life. The show suited me fine, but it made me want to go space exploring badly. Better yet, with a good looking alien! What is this??

Steven Moffatt has given me (and millions of others like me) a sense of false desperation for a means of escape into the cracks of time and go on a wild adventure when things in life go terribly awry. It is totally unfair that the Doctor comes along out of nowhere right in the nick of time, takes his companions on glorious adventures and nearly gets them killed (but doesn't), saves the planet 50 billion times over, and brings them home again before dinner.

A blue police box the size of my closet simply disappearing into the throws of time and space without me onboard? Not fair! Yes yes, think what you will, but I'm sure most of you out there could agree.


2. The concept of time travel. I thought about it before the show even entered my attention span, but never really thought about it. And you know why? It's really confusing.

But this explanation is good enough.

Now I don't see time as something linear anymore, thanks to this show. It's more like a ball of yarn, going this way and that and ending somewhere where you least expected it. Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey, spacey wacey.... That sort.

If I were to go travelling back in time, it would be to 1960s London to see the Beatles in concert. I would probably die from the shock of seeing them, not only as the the four of them were, but having actually travelled back in time to do so. Wee!
BUT, if it were really an episode of Doctor Who, the Beatles would turn out to be slurians or something and kill people with their music and then try to take over the world.
And if I can work Steven Moffat's plot lines into this category, I give him props for his ideas. Because they are wild!

3. Nine, Ten, and Eleven. Any time lord (or alien in general) that's good looking, fun/adventurous with a dash of cooky, has a trademark look (bow tie! Converse!) and wears his emotions on his sleeve sounds pretty good in my books*. The only problem here is that I've been spoiled, and now my standards have been set waaaay above normal. "You don't happen to travel through time? Righto, later, bra'."

And you know what? I love them all. I can't choose favourites--my Libran nature doesn't allow it. They each know how to inspire, and they see the power in you that you don't. Even further more, they just make me want to cry at times. (Cry because I can't have them!)

And hell, when something bizarre happens at work and then some random good looking specimen comes out of no where and starts jabbering to you about creatures you've never heard of before and something about the end of the world, what are you supposed to do? One thing would be to stare, though the second and more reasonable option would be to run--better yet with him, if he grabs your hand.
(*And this will probably be the reason why I will be eternally doomed to singlehood.) 

4. An irrational fear of monsters and aliens that don't exist. I guess this extends to the Weeping Angels, which are pretty scary. However, non existent as the Daleks or Cybermen may be, it isn't entirely impossible for some crazy takedown by a foreign alien species to happen to earth. Just so long as they aren't a quantum locked species like the weeping angels. I never again can look at a stone statue without thinking of them and wondering if they're ready to pounce when my back is turned. Another would be one of these guys, and these dolls (aiiiee!).

5. Not having a musical theme to my life. Rose had one. Martha had one. Donna had one. And Amy Pond had one! Most of them sound dreamy and longing--except for Donna's which is kind of quirky, and has a 'am-I-bovvered' sort of feel to it. And of course, the Doctor's theme is always bad-ass. I could never decide on a theme (god, am I really thinking about this??), but if I did it would have lots of pizzicato in it. Like this.
Goes along with not having Steven Moffat write a script for my life. Damn, would he make it interesting.