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Teh Doctor

I'm in a blogging mood

Wahoo. Haven’t written in awhile. Not sure where to start…

Well, I guess shortly before Xmas would be a good time. I’ve got a lot to recap, so I’ll do it briefly.

The Kitten:

Two weeks before Xmas our Doberman got ill and had to be housed at the vet for four days. While there I noticed the sign outside advertised a kitten needing a good home. My mother’s cat died back in the summer and we’ve been looking to get a new one ever since, so I asked about the kitten. The woman said he was an orange tabby, which perked my mom’s interest (aforementioned deceased kitty was orange). She asked to have him brought out, and he was. Upon seeing that he was in face covered with a lot of white lost interest, but I didn’t. I can’t quite explain why I felt so drawn to the little guy, but I kept coming back to ask about him. Turns out that he was found in a dumpster on Thanksgiving [side author’s note: I just typed that out as Thrawnsgiving O_o]. The left side of his face is slightly deformed (one eye is always half shut). The vet suspects that he was kicked when he was a baby.

Awww. Long story short, somehow I ended up with him as an Xmas present. Wait—I didn’t want my own cat…how did that happen? Sigh.

He’s going to be a big boy, given the alarming rate at which he’s currently growing. o-o Eek. I foresee my future paychecks going toward a whole lot of cat food. He’s not officially named yet (the vet called him Peaches), but I’m leaning toward Rimsky (after the composer). Other choices were Amadeus (which later turned into Bramadeus, a combination of Amadeus and Bram, after Bram Stoker—this cat has fangs and he likes to use them on anything he possibly can), Riley/Reilly, and Nate (after Oprah’s interior designer, who she also calls Cutie Pie).

No, I am not the sort of person to name my cat Patches and be done with it, thank you very much.


As I already said, Bramadeusimskyateiley was my main Xmas present. Beyond that, I got some makeup and a shirt…

And a model sonic screwdriver from my completely wonderful grandparents. It even came with the slightly psychic paper.

Eemeegeesquee! Yes, I do carry it around in my purse, just in the hope that I can one day pull it out and proudly proclaim that I am ‘totally soniced up’!

It’s a whole load of fun. I got it from ThinkGeek.com (I recommend that site, by the way), and so far I’ve had no complaints. It comes with two pen nibs (UV ink and regular black), a UV light, and makes that classic sonic noise. It’s a bit bigger than I envisioned, but not uncomfortably so. It extends like the one on TV. Oh, and the UV ink writes ‘secret’ messages on the paper which show up under the sonic light—and then the paper can be wiped clean, which it quite nice (though I am particularly paranoid about marking on that surface, just in case one day it *doesn’t* want to come off).

More to come on that particular matter.


Seeing them live was the best $60 I’ve ever spent. To sum it up, it was three hours (no intermission!) of frozen-in-your-seat awesomeness. It snowed, there were infernos blazing, and the bass guitar + drums caused my internal organs to vibrate for at least two hours afterward.

Oh, my gosh. I still don’t feel I can adequately describe just how cool it was. These guys (and women) make one of the best musical acts I’ve ever heard.

And they had a special performance from the starter of the band Bad Company (and Free. And he’s the current lead singer for Queen). Man, that guy can rock.

Paul O’Neill (the starter of TSO) made an appearance, too, playing guitar for a few songs. They previewed their special version of O Fortuna (classical piece—look it up and enjoy the kettle drum!), a song that will be on their upcoming album Nightcastle (which I was told it supposed to be released this spring).

I was screaming loud enough to draw looks from the other teenagers there. I guess they’re not used to someone who fangirls over a bunch of forty-year-old guys playing Mozart’s Figaro on electric guitars. ^^

If that wasn’t enough, the whole band set up tables afterward to sign autographs. In my rush to find where this was, I walked right past the line (which only had a few people in it, my mother observed later). By the time I came back around there were several hundred people ahead of me. Feeling depressed, I settled in for a long wait (kudos to my parental units for being willing to wait with me), and sort of belatedly realized that, save for the concert tickets, I had nothing for them to sign.

Oh well, I thought. I’ll just shake their hands and lather them with fangirly praise.

I got to talking to the guy behind me. Nice guy, though I do have to wonder if he has a life outside of being a TSO/Savatage fan. He goes to all of their Texas shows and went to a fanclub meeting in Vegas…among other things. Oh, well, he was interesting to talk to. Plus, upon noticing my desperate search for anything for the band to sign, he handed me a lovely, large ‘flat’ of the cover art to their album the Lost Christmas Eve. I thanked him until he started backing away slowly.

Something like two hours later I actually met the band, getting about fifteen guitar picks (one of which I used my old beading tools on to make into a necklace) and introducing myself (hey, they asked what my name was!).

I don’t think I’ve ever met a more gracious, sweet group of people. It actually stunned me to a point of near speechlessness (after all, the Fangirl is never completely speechless). It was sincere, and they actually bothered to look at me, not just giving me the wide smile they put on to greet the sea of fans. For example, more than half of them commented on the pin I had on my collar (a jeweled piano) and asked if I played, how long I had played, and what my favorite style was. Some of their manner simply can’t be put into words—just know that, yeah, they love their job and their fans and they wanted to be there to make someone’s day/year.

…And they’re supposed to come back in summer, too!

New Year’s Eve/Day:

My close friend Sarah invited me to welcome the new year at her house, sleeping over. They had a small party (game night) to count down until midnight. I played NBAopoly (Monopoly, except the properties are NBA teams) against my father, Sahra, and her younger brother, Jonah. I ended up owning half the board, with hotels on a fourth of it. I kept dragging the game out just so I could say I’d owned the Dallas Mavericks from 07 to 08. x) At the end of the game I was worth something like $15,000 (I had every single $500 bill that came with the game xD).

Best line of the night happened when I went to pay Jonah rent for having landed on Park Place, which he had a monopoly on.

“Here,” I said. “Have $100, ‘cause I’m feeling generous.”

He snatched it from me and promptly began to laugh diabolically. “What?” I asked.

“It’s mortgaged!” He told me, gleefully clinging to the money.

Oh well. I made him pay later, anyway, when he landed on one of my $1250 hotels.

Anyway. Sarah and I got to bed after staying up until 1:30 in the morning giggling about various things. She’s not as much of a fangirl as I am, but I’ve succeeded in corrupting her quite a bit. I am responsible for introducing her to both Thrawn and Doctor Who, two things she now loves. Yes, I am proud.

We woke up at seven and I climbed to the refuge of her bunk bed to finish up the discussion from a few hours earlier about what weird fandom-related dreams we’ve had. Jonah came in half an hour later to playfully mock our giggling and ask what we were doing with a ysalamir attached to the fan (Sarah’s the artist extraordinaire, and she used her incredible talents with the sewing machine to make a plushie that drapes around one’s neck in realistic fashion. For no particular reason, we had this day hung him over one her fan blades).

We got to talking about imitating Thrawn, then the conversation moved to Jonah’s amazing ability to imitate David Tennant’s facial expressions (even more amazing considering he’s never seen more than a picture of the Doctor). I mentioned that I had brought my sonic screwdriver in my purse, and we gave it to him to pose with. Giggling ensued, and I jokingly asked if he had a long brown coat. It turns out he had a long black coat and a swirly blue tie to boot. Getting more excited, we started to play dress-up with him, making him don a brown shirt, the blue tie and jacket, and borrow Sarah’s black Converse shoes. He’s twelve, to he pretends to be long-suffering, but one can tell he loves the attention. We started to make him do different poses in the hallway, both of us snapping pictures with our cameras and yelling things like, “Raise that eyebrow higher! C’mon, look amused! Give me some more of that sonic screwdriver! Oh, fantastic!”

Then I abruptly stopped, looked at Sarah, and got another idea. If her brother was the Doctor, then shouldn’t he have a companion?

It certainly helps that Sarah has gorgeously long blonde hair, a bit reminiscent of Rose’s. The next hour was spent putting her hair into braids, selecting a costume for her, and coating her face with too much makeup. Jonah got bored and wandered out to play the Xbox.

Posing the two of them was a bit of a challenge for moi, the camerawoman, given that Jonah’s already half a foot shorter than his sister and I had put her in high-heeled boots. A few well-placed stools solved that problem, and I got quite a few nice shots of the duo.

Little replicas? Hardly. He’s got blonde hair, not brown or even ‘ginger’, and she’s not blonde enough. Neither has terribly much resemblance around the face, even though Jonah can pull off the classic Tennant look of raised-eyebrow amusement. Did we care? Not really. It made for several hours of fun, and posing those two is probably the closest I’ll ever get to doing a photo shoot with the ‘real’ Doctor and his companion.

Assorted ramblings and thoughts that fit into no other category:

Back in early November I started writing a piece of Star Wars fanfiction for Sarah’s birthday in which we were both characters along side a stoic Chiss and the Doctor (though he’s the Doctor in name only, I might add). It was silly and horribly AU, but by the time I was done it was 41 pages long. I was pleased in the sense that my writing was good, but I could not have anticipated the reaction it got.

I figured Sarah would read it to herself and maybe Jonah, but no… It got read to her parents, grandmother, two uncles, and several other friends, all of whom immediately demanded copies from me. They raved about it, asking questions I hadn’t even thought of and pondering about little side plotlines that could be developed.

Therefore, since Christmas, I have been writing the sequel.

It’s over sixty pages long now, and while the total lack of canon-ness still bugs me, no one else terribly cares. It’s very flattering to hear even the adults praising my writing, and not just in a polite way. I mean, when her uncle (who I didn’t know had read the story and who I’ve met all of two times) emails me asking for a copy to read to his Star Wars inclined family… O_o

It’s, at most, PG-rated, so it’s not *quite* how I’d usually write, which does on occasion prove annoying to me (I’m not purposely edgy, but I would like to put a little more violence in, and I can see two of the characters developing a dating-style romance)… Oh, well. Until I have enough patience to write two versions, I’m just going to have to deal with it and cater to my audience.

It is encouraging in the sense that I’ve never written anything of comparable length before. Most things fizzle out a the ten page mark. Some don’t make it past two. I’ve always thought that my strong point would be with short stories, but this has given me the motivation to return to some of my old ideas and continue trying to get my thoughts down in an organized fashion.

Internet life has become boring/depressing for me. It seems like all my old friends have migrated to different websites. I suppose I’m a part of the new cliques around me, but I don’t quite fit in. It’s no fault of their own—we just don’t click (no pun intended).

Still, I can’t just decide to stop posting. I’ve taken on responsibilities, and I’ve got to act as a leader. It’s tough, though. I’m busy, and the little free time I have I spend mostly writing the aforementioned story. I actually dread those free moments I get because I know I have to go on the computer or give myself a huge guilt trip about not upholding my responsibilities.

Whatever happened to my boundless enthusiasm? I’m still not sure when I lost it.

Icons are still fun, though. My obsession with Christopher Eccleston’s face put into 100x100 boxes is as strong as ever. Speaking of which, I was watching the movie Gone in 60 Seconds last night with my mother, the Nicolas Cage fan. It was mildly interesting, until it got to the part where you first hear the bad guy’s voice. I was talking about that evening’s swim practice at the time, so my reaction was a little something like this: “—so because I couldn’t make the interval I swam basically an 800 with no breaks andOMGIT’STHEDOCTORCRITICIZINGBASEBALL!!!1!

Yes, I know his voice that well. That beautifully clumsy Northern accent, that particular tone…Mmm. Oh, and did I mention his hair is gorgeous in that movie?

Why do they always kill off the cute ones? I wanted to see him carve more wood. –pouts-

…Ooo, I ought to run off to Internet Movie Database and see if he’s working on any more films. o-o This is why I don’t memorize the list of movies he’s already been in—it’s really fun to be pleasantly surprised.

Ahem. So obviously, my fangirliness hasn’t changed one bit.

My love for musicals has grown. A highschool near us (Southlake Carroll—if you’re a highschool football fan, you know who they are) put on a production of The Phantom of the Opera that I would have enjoyed immensely had I not had a horrible sinus infection when I went. And the new movie Sweeny Todd has attracted my attention to that musical…Oh, why’d they have to put so much gore in that the movie got tacked with an R rating? I’m not a Johnny Depp fangirl, but that man can act. He’s absolutely brilliant at playing weirdos. And Mr. Todd is just the sort of character that appeals to me—psychotic, black-haired, and musical. x)

If I hadn’t written such a long post already I’d take some time here to write up a review of National Treasure II, which I saw the day it came out. To be short and sweet, it was clever, but too much a copy of the first one. And there wasn’t nearly enough Riley Poole.

School’s back in, and I’ve my work has been piling up over vacation (I prefer to go totally work-free and then frantically scramble to do all of my vacation homework in one day), so I suspect I won’t be doing another post like this for awhile. That’s alright, no one really reads this anyway, I suspect—it just makes me feel better to know that my thoughts for the moment have been immortalized in a folder on my laptop.

‘Til whenever,

-Lia the Fangirl