Tag Archives: Doctor Who

Acceptable Excuses

Every morning, when I get up to feed the cats and go for my walk, I argue with the excuses.  I have a very long list of excuses that try to convince me that they are reasonable.  It looks like rain.  You stayed up too late last night.  It’s okay to miss one day.  You are just too tired.  The bed is so soft and warm.  It’s chilly out there.  It’s too hot.  You slept in too late.  You just don’t feel like it.  Who cares?  No one will know but you and Buddy, and he won’t judge you.  You never say anything when he skips a work out.  It’s not like you’re fat or anything.  You don’t really need to work out.  You’re not like all those other people out there with their Wal-Mart and their fast food.  You can always start exercising when you actually start gaining weight, which is what all of them should have done.  I mean, how do they let themselves get that unhealthy before they decide to do something about it?

My mind is not especially charitable at 6 am.  Actually, I can be a right b*tch first thing in the morning.  After coffee, I can feel ashamed for such thoughtlessness and I can remind myself that I am not magically immune to all the traps that can lead to unhealthy decisions and behaviors.  If I was immune to anything, I wouldn’t have to argue with that niggling little voice every morning, would I?

I have made an agreement with myself concerning excuses.  There are 3 acceptable excuses.  It must be raining, not sprinkling or threatening rain.  Thunder and lightning are a plus.  OR it must be less than 45°F outside, though I may change that after I take a walk at that temp.  I know running would keep me warm enough for that temp to be manageable, but walking doesn’t warm me up nearly as much as running.  OR I have a migraine.  Sunlight and sweating will only exacerbate it and migraines are hard enough to get rid of without annoying them.

Yesterday, I woke up to a railroad spike being driven through the top of my skull.  It was about an hour before my normal wake up time, so I took some meds to hopefully kill the bugger before I had to go walk.  When my alarm went off, it was still there, trying to push my brain out through my ears.  So I went back to bed and didn’t get up until 11 am.  Yeah, I know.  But Buddy had the morning off and it was hard to leave him when I was just so comfortable.  I spent the rest of the day lazing on the couch, reading and watching Doctor Who.  I rewarded myself for that super lazy day with no chocolate and a glass of wine with dinner.  And then I stayed up until 3 am because apparently I can’t simply stop watching David Tennant’s last episode.  As they say, it hit me in the feels.

This morning, I got up and fed the cats almost an hour late (sorry kitties).  Then the excuses started their roll call.  I know myself.  If I give into the excuse once, it’s that much easier to give in again.  I like rules.  I need rules.  If I sleep in, there is no way I’m going to work out later.  If I skip one day for a petty reason, then I’ll need herculean determination to get put of bed the next morning.  As Mad-Eye would say, “CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

I will lose this battle occasionally.  I’m human.  I am weak and lazy.  That’s why I need bribery and cajoling and name calling to get me going.  I won this morning.  You’re already standing, you know.  You can always take a nap afterward, like you normally do.  Stop being so lazy, unless you want to become fat.  Fat and ugly and unloved and undeserving.  Like I said.  I can be pretty nasty before coffee.

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So, I went on vacation in May for a week.  I don’t like advertising when I go out of town, so I decided to lay off posting for that week.  I planned to write everyday, just not post.  And then I didn’t write at all.  It was kind of strange.  The least I could have done was a daily log of our vacation, which was full of fun and interesting things to talk about.  But I didn’t.  I did a lot of reading.  And since I got back, the daily writing habit has proved difficult to reestablish.

I wish I could say I was busy.  Yeah, no.  I don’t know where June has gone, but I haven’t spent it being productive.  On the up-side, I have kept up with my recipe resolution.  I just haven’t been posting the recipes reliably.  I vow, here and now, to get on that.  Soon.

Buddy and I have been thoroughly roped into Battlestar Gallactica.  Granted, the second season had a lot of “who wrote this crap” moments, but I’m hoping it doesn’t pull a Lost or True Blood or Heroes in the third season.  I think part of the problem is that the main setting for the show is on a military ship and we are seeing a lot of things that are clearly what civilians think happen in the military.  The military is not a police force.  It is not an office of inquiry or a group of would-be assassins.  No Commander worth his stones would sacrifice his best pilot in an ill-planned assassination attempt.  Killing a bad officer is so far away from probable behavior that we knew it wasn’t going to actually happen.  Plus the fact that murder seems to be something we just pretend didn’t happen so long as the murderer was someone we liked.  I think after the hostage situation episode, Buddy asked me if I was taking notes on what not to do.  Of course I was.

That’s the thing about my fandom.  I love a wide variety of nerd universes.  Harry Potter, Star Wars, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Lord of the Rings, the list goes on.  And on and on.  But I don’t drool devotedly over every teeny tiny detail.  I don’t argue about which is better.  They all shine in their own way.  They are all deeply flawed, too.  I will argue against anyone who claims a perfect universe, a perfect story.  It doesn’t exist.  There are always and will always be badly written episodes, unlikely plot twists, unrealistic explanations, stupid characters, blatant crowd-pleasing, and boring exposition.  No one is without flaws.  Ask George Lucas or Peter Jackson.  They were gods of the nerdverse until the second trilogy.

What I’m trying to say is, loving something doesn’t mean being blind to its flaws.  I recognize that many of the things I love cannot be appreciated by everyone.  I know that Doctor Who is an acquired taste and that not all episodes must have deep meaning.  Most are just fun runs.  That blind devotion is the reason I hate Twilighters and Game of Thrones fans (GoT-ers?).  Few of them look at the works objectively, which I understand is asking a lot of any fan.  I read Twilight twice and I enjoyed it, but I couldn’t get over the absurd Vampire mythos.  Humans are about as dangerous to those vampires as sheep are to humans.  We don’t hide from sheep, so why should they hide from humans?  I also read GoT.  I didn’t like the narrative form.  Switching every chapter to a new story line like that, especially considering how very many story lines there are, confused me (and I’ve been known to read three different books at once without getting confused), not to mention the predictable way he kills off characters I liked.  The whole series could do with a very cruel editor.  The movie/TV versions of both series failed utterly to catch my attention.  But I try to say any of this to a fan and I’m some kind of monster.  All I really want to do is point them toward the books that spoiled my palette for second-hand drivel and badly written sex scenes.  Then they would understand why I can’t get all doughy-eyed over those best-sellers.

I have a story idea.  It starts with a sushi chef and ends with genocide and murder.

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15AM000000122011 · 00:42

I Accomplished Nothing Today

That’s not true.  I finished the sixth season of Doctor Who, and I almost mostly didn’t cry.

Note on advertising practices:

Gillette has a new body razor for men.  The commercial goes on about how men are contoured, with mountains and ridges and shiz.  There’s lots of epic landscape and power chords so you know this razor is definitely designed specifically for men.

It looks exactly like my Venus razor.

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