Goodreads Review: Struck By Lightning.

Struck By Lightning: The Carson Phillips JournalStruck By Lightning: The Carson Phillips Journal by Chris Colfer
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

First off, let me explain the rating. It’s not that this a terrible book. It’s not a great book either, but it’ll probably really click with some people. I watched the movie two years ago (review on my blog here) and it worked for me. I got it. I liked it. I talked about it.

When I came across the book, I figured since I liked the movie, it seemed likely that I’d like the book. For me, personally, this book is just “okay”. I’m not going to read it again, I’m not even going to keep my copy. I did finish it, and I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t really feel like I even got enough out of it to like it, hence the two-star rating. It’s probably because everything I would have gotten out of it, I’d already gotten from the movie. I didn’t feel like the book added anything to what I’d already seen.
Basically, if you love this book and have never seen the movie, then yay, there’s a great adaptation out there! But if you’ve seen the movie, this is one of those rare cases where you might not actually need to the read the book.

I typically don’t recap plots in my reviews just because I figure those are easy to find elsewhere. I am, however, going to expand a little on a couple of my status updates with this book, because they pretty much cover the other biggest issues I had reading this.

The Setting: this “small town” of over 9.5 thousand is actually MUCH bigger than the small town I grew up in, which was under 2.5k. So when the narrator goes off on tangents about how small and pitiful and dead-end his town is, I’m like, nope! I mean, the town has a freaking COMMUNITY COLLEGE. I’m pretty sure the closest community college to me was about a two hour drive, three towns over. But then he’s trying to say that getting a movie theater is a huge shinny new deal, whereas my tiny town had a movie theater that was converted from an actual stage theater and so old it was in a historic building. I know each town is going to be different and that comparative population size on average means his was technically a small town, too, but those kinds of things really stick out to me (obviously).

The Snark: Normally, I’m a huge fan of snark. My favorite website ever is called Snark Squad. My own family frequently can’t tell if I’m being sarcastic or sincere unless I drop some obvious hints. But the snark in this book often ended up coming across as overbearing or just plain nasty. And granted, the narrator is a teenager, and therefore might not be the most self-aware creature in the world, but on paper felt like a little much, and sometimes even made me uncomfortable because of just how unrelentingly mean it was. Oddly, there were a lot of line I remembered from the movie in here, but somehow in dialogue it just seemed to work better. Maybe it’s just that spoken words don’t linger like they do in print, or maybe I’ve just changed more than I thought in the last two years since I watched the movie and gotten more sensitive to what people say about each other. Maybe both. Either way, I think the moment I appreciated the most was when Carson started wondering if he was actually the villain in this story. I was a little disappointed that this sudden introspection didn’t actually seem to stick around or lead to any new growth, however.

All in all, I’d say if you haven’t watched the movie, by all means, read this and then watch the movie so you can tell me how it comes across in that order. I’d be very curious to know. And if you’ve already watched it, but are still curious about the book, don’t let my options stop you. Read it, and then let me know if you agree with me or if I’m being too harsh on it, or if I didn’t take it to task enough! Everyone’s take on media is going to be different, and that’s what makes discussions of it interesting.

View all my reviews

Trip Log: Catching Up… So Much Catching Up.

Dear Cyber-Friends,

Clearly, I overestimated my updating frequency while on the road. This will be the “words” post; later I will do the “photos” post. This is because 1) I’m too lazy to go get the cable for my camera right now; B) It’ll be faster to update those things seperately; Cat) This is my blog and I do what I want.

[Note: thanks to my favorite community Snark Squad for both the unique and fun counting system, and the motto I’ve borrowed at the end of the list.]

Moving on…

When last I left you, I was spending a day relaxing in Colorado with a friend before heading out to the Canyonlands. Thanks to said friend, I took a couple detours when I hit the road again. First, I drove through the Colorado National Monument, occasionally stopping to photograph the stunning views each new corner and turn revealed along the edge of the mesa. Next, I abandoned the freeway again to drive a twisty-turny highway that followed part of the Colorado River — again, every new bend showed landscape even more beautiful than the last. This is about the time I also started noticing a lot of classic cars on the road.

When I reached the town of Moab that afternoon, I soon realized why I was seeing so many classic cars: there was a car show in town for the weekend. Needless to say, the place was super packed and there were no campsites or rooms left anywhere. Clearly, I rock at planning.

Long story short, this is how I ended up spending the weekend camping in the small town of Green River, about an hour north of my intended destination. It actually worked out just fine; I got to test out my camping setup for the first time, while in a place I could get supplies close by, and I even got a free upgrade to sleep in a cabin the second night. It gave me a much-needed day of doing nothing, and I could drive down to Arches National Park and spend some time exploring. That day, I drove to the end of the road in Arches, and hiked out to Landscape Arch, then took the “primitive trail” all the way out through Devil’s Garden to Black Angel and back. It was about seven miles, I think, and completely gorgeous.

On Monday I figured things had probably calmed down a bit back in Moab. I packed up my campsite, and headed south. I ended up renting a pretty nice site in Horse Thief Campground, part of the way up the road towards the Island In the Sky entrance to Canyonlands National Park. It actually worked out much to my advantage — the higher elevation meant cooler temperatures, and being on the edge of the mesa meant there was usually a refreshing breeze. This was all to the good, because the weather had finally cleared up, and it was SUNNY in the desert, and getting hotter every day. Have I mentioned I’m not good at handling the heat? I get pretty tired and cranky very quickly…which makes me think I must have failed a sanity check when I decided a trip to the Southwest would be a great idea. Again, I really got this whole “planning” thing down, right?

Anyway, with my new campsite set up, and no intention of leaving for the rest of the week, I was free to explore the surrounding area at my leisure. I attended a couple very interesting ranger talks at Island In The Sky, took a hike out past the Grand Overlook to the very edge of the mesa, poked around in Arches a bit more, drove out to the Needles Overlook area, saw Newspaper Rock, and drove through the Needles district of Canyonlands. There’s lots of photos, and I totally fell in love with a lot of the areas, but especially towards the end of the week I just couldn’t stop thinking how much I wished my family — and in particular my Mum — were there too, and how much more fun it would have been to be exploring together. I had a lot of wistful remembering about the family camping trips we used to have, and the road trips Mum and I took.

Eventually the time came to move on again. I headed out to New Mexico, by way of Mesa Verde. It was as fascinating as I’d imagined to see the cliff-dwellings there, though I didn’t spend much time in the park. Northern New Mexico reminded me a surprising amount of the Inland Northwest, except everything was smaller (trees, hills, etc). I ended up spending the night in Carson National Park, at a campsite next to a natural amphitheater.

The next day I headed into Santa Fe, where I was impressed by the number of people who showed up at the exact time the library was supposed to open, and waited the ten-to-fifteen minutes it took before the librarians actually unlocked the doors. I’ve been using libraries the whole trip for their free wi-fi, their clean bathrooms, and their book-sales. Books and audio-cds have pretty much been the one “souvenir” type things I’ve been getting on this trip — library sales are awesome that way, and super affordable. Plus the audio-cds make long driving days go by much faster.

After the library, I wandered about the streets of Santa Fe for a little while, but after a week of being in one place I was still antsy to hit the road more. I drove through some neighborhoods on my way out of town, and between those two things I saw enough of Santa Fe to make me want to go back someday. It is BEAUTIFUL there, and I adore the architecture style.

After that, I headed down to Fort Sumner to see Billy The Kid’s grave and museum. This is because when I was first planning my trip, I noticed it on a map and mentioned it jokingly to my sister, and she was so excited and jealous it became something I HAD to do. Obviously.

It was actually very cool to be there, and kind of heart-touchingly sad — the headstone is for Billy and two of his ‘pals’ (as it says on the engraving), and all three are buried side-by-side. The “unofficial” museum in Fort Sumner was also worth checking out; they have a lot of historical artifacts from various eras, not just Billy The Kid stuff, but they also have some very cool Billy stuff that you wouldn’t see elsewhere — like his gun, and a photo of him playing croquet with some friends. The video about the Lincoln County War and Billy’s life was really interesting, too. I sent my sister a lot of pictures.

After that, I kept heading south. Destination: Roswell, NM. This was another “for my sister” thing, really. As she texted me at one point, “Aliens and Cowboys – New Mexico sounds perfect for me!” (this statement is entirely accurate). I camped outside of Roswell for a couple nights at Bottomless Lakes State Park — if there were any aliens around, they failed to abduct me or even show up — and wandered through the town a bit. I couldn’t help thinking how much more fun it would be to explore it with my sister. Plus, the weather and the location were conspiring to be very desert-like with the whole hot-and-sunny thing, and I’ve mentioned already what a fan of that I am.

When I moved on, I headed down to Carlsbad Caverns. I spend pretty much the entire day deep underground, which is one of my happy-places. Seriously, every time I’m in a cavern/cave/lava tube, I want to just live there. Without all the other people. Anyway, there was a storm warning in effect that day, so only two parts of the cavern were open in case of flooding. There will be lots of photos from here.

While in the caverns, I ended up conversing with another traveler/seasonal-worker — she was also heading to Colorado for the summer, though to a different place — and we ended up deciding to split a motel room since neither of us felt like camping in the rain. It turned out to be pretty fun, and of course the lure of a real bed and a hot shower (and a hot-tub! And we split a pizza for dinner!) was quite the siren-song to begin with. We went our separate ways in the morning; I headed into Texas.

Now, given that the ENTIRE REGION was apparently covered by this particular storm, I’m pretty sure I didn’t have the most typical of Texas experiences, weather-wise. Anyway, due to the rain and the being spoiled by sleeping a bed again, I spent the night in a motel again, and then the next day, I finally, at long last, reached my ultimate destination/reason/excuse for this whole trip: my twitter friend’s home in Fort Worth, she of the Renaissance Faire and homemade cheesecake temptations.

It was fantastic getting to meet her for the first time, finally getting to put face and voice and mannerisms to the person I’d been friends with for so long. The first night we went to a Girl’s Night at one of her local comic book stores, which was super fun, of course. I got to read through much of her comics collection (with regular updates via twitter to a mutual friend and fellow comic book enthusiast in France). There was, indeed, a cheesecake to be eaten. And, as if all that wasn’t reason enough to visit and have an amazing time, there was the Scarborough Renaissance Festival itself.

I had bought a weekend pass prior to leaving Montana, so that helped take the pressure off of trying to see everything in one day. The weather was pretty cooperative the first day, alternating clouds and sun, and we wandered about and watched performances and poked in various shops. I bought a longbow so I can start practicing my archery again this summer. We ate funnel cake (my first time with that particular treat). I drooled over all the pretty clothes and weapons. We went home exhausted from a full day of fun.

The next day, the weather was less cooperative, alternating darker clouds with occasional downpours. There were far fewer patrons to the faire, which meant a lot of personal attention from everyone working and trying to sell stuff. But it also meant we always got great seats to the shows! I bought a leather wrist cuff, and we split a turkey leg (which was rumored to actually be an emu leg) for lunch. The shows were great, but ultimately the faire ended up closing an hour or two early due to possible tornado/severe downpour warnings. Despite that, I still have a great day, and was marginally less exhausted (though I did end up falling asleep in the car).

I took an extra day in Fort Worth to just recover and regroup, before heading out early yesterday. I decided I was ready to call it good on the camping front, and on the driving-every-day front, so I spent the entire day on the road to make it all the way up to a great-sounding hostel in Fort Collins, CO for my last days of freedom before I go back to work.

At this point in my tale, I have to pause to give a shout-out to K/Cathy and Trevor, a couple of very kind random strangers I met at a random Rest Stop. The reason for this is because I had an extremely embarrassing and panic-inducing “oh shit” moment, where I locked my keys in my car. After the first wave of denial (“No way did I just do that”) and freaking out (“I’ll break into it somehow!”), I got my rational brain back in gear and flagged down passing said random strangers to ask if I could use their phone. Never have I been happier to have good triple-A coverage. C/Kathy and Trevor not only let me use their phone, but invited me to wait with them in their RV. They even fed me, and were totally cool about having a total stranger hanging out with them for the hour-long wait.

Anyway, my car finally got unlocked (for free! Sort of. Yay for having coverage, anyway.), and I got back on the road. I arrived at the hostel late last night, and immediately went to bed after that far-too-long drive. By the way, this particular hostel has tempur-pedic mattresses on their beds, and tropical-plant-filled covered courtyard in the middle of the house, and waffles for breakfast, and wi-fi everywhere. So I’ll be spending the next couple days here.

On Friday I’ll head out for my last three hours on the road, to go back to my summer guest ranch and begin pre-season work. It’ll be nice to have some money coming in again — though amazingly, I think I’ve managed to stay under-budget this trip! — , and to finally unpack and organize all the stuff in my car, but I’m wondering how hard it’ll be to adjust to staying in one place for months. This road trip has been, at the heart, some real fantasy-fulfillment for me; the ultimate dream of being able to just jump in the car and take off whenever I feel like it, to where-ever I feel like, never having to backtrack or be anywhere at a certain time, never having to stop when I still feel like driving, never having to be answerable to other people…

On the other hand, transient life can wear you down after a while. Taking a break from it, like with most things, will give it meaning and a specialness when I start traveling again. And a guest ranch really isn’t that bad of a place to spend a summer, after all.

Safe travels, everyone.

Love,

GeGi.

A Rather Long Post About Being A Fan.

Dear Cyber-Friends,

I’ve talked a little before at about fandom, and in particular about the way a fandom can either become a very bullying or very supportive place. If you’ve been following my Twitter account the last couple days, you probably won’t be surprised I’m going to talk about fandom again right now. Everything I’m going to say is from a personal point of view; I don’t pretend I’m speaking for anyone but myself, and I certainly can’t comment about anyone else’s experiences, goals, desires, dislikes, etc.

Okay, disclaimer over, now for the backstory. I’ve never really been a “group” sort of person. Even among close friends, I tend to keep to the edges, watching and listening more than talking and participating. I generally go with the flow, and tend to form strong opinions only after much thought and comparison to other opinions, and only once they seem to make sense. I’m certainly not very vocally, and when I am, I try to be pretty fair and balanced about it. Even on my own personal soap box of this blog, I still try to use positive language to try and educate rather than alienate. When interacting with other people, I look at things from as many sides as possible and keep my observations to myself except for a few occasional pointed comments if I think they are warranted or if I’m particularly passionate about the subject.

Make no mistake, I DO have loyalties and preferences, and in the right environment I’m as susceptible to “fan-flailing” as the next excited and passionate person. But more often than not, I simply don’t want to get dragged into arguments if someone disagrees with me. I have very little patience for that sort of thing, having been constantly exposed to it growing up. Those kinds of things very often have little to do with actually sharing different points of view for mutual education and enlightenment, and more to do with “THIS IS WHY YOU’RE SO WRONG AND SUCK AS A PERSON”, especially when they happen in most places on the internet. I’d much rather have conversations that go more like “YOU ARE AN AWESOME PERSON AND I’M SO GLAD WE GOT TO SHARE THESE THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS”.

So usually, my fandom interaction goes something like this: there will be a thing I like, and I’ll see some other people liking that same thing, and they might have different things to say about it, and I’ll listen and go “oh, cool, I totally see that now” or “oh, cool, never thought of that before” and I may or may not actually agree with those things, but it doesn’t matter because we’re all enjoying this things and learning from each other and sharing our passions. I love that kind of stuff. And if I really like you, I might even start ranting about cinematography or something!

And then sometimes someone will come along and tell all the people sharing and liking this one thing why that thing is a X Y or Z bad thing, and it will escalate back and forth, and sometimes the cool people rally, and something the not-cool people will make death threats, and it’s all just very unpleasant and nasty and often enabled by a lot of the cultural problems we’re dealing with more and more these days. I’ve talked about some of those problems before on the blog. Check the archives.

Anyway.

In fandom, these two scenarios are pretty frequently played out. However, I’m relatively new to being active enough to observe it happening in the moment. I’ve been a fan of various things all my life, but due to the aforementioned “sticking to the edges”, I never really interacted with other fans all that much. I might read articles, but would skip the discussion boards and comment sections due to all the arguing and insulting and hating and bullying it often seemed to degrade into. I’d rather just enjoy the thing I loved on my own and keep all the excitement and theories to myself, rather than risk being attacked online. I had enough going on my life already, and made the choice not to add more stress.

That all started to change a year or two ago, with the oh-so-excellent Snark Squad, who run a website with one of the most polite, intelligent, respectful comments sections I’ve ever heard of. To be sure, they’re had their difficulties with hate and threats and insults and bullies too, but the Snark Ladies are some truly classy women, and they — with the help of the regulars — would always address the problems and bring the discussion back from the explosive potential.

I finally had a place where I could venture out of my shell and leave comments, without the fear of attack from all sides. It was a revelation. I created a Twitter account solely to be able to interact more with these incredibly awesome people. I started a blog because they had shown me how meaningful someone can make their own little corner of the internet, and how supportive an online community can be. They inspired me, and helped me feel safe putting myself out there. Even if I was attacked or threatened, I knew they would have my back.

I’ve branched out a bit since then; the last few days on Twitter, as I mentioned, have been full of fandom posts for a particular ‘shipper corner of the internet connected to the TV show Supernatural. Actually, my semi-involvement with them has been going on a bit longer. It started with the earlier blog post here (linked above in the intro to this post), when I talked about how divided and hurt the fandom was, and how irresponsible some of the actors had been about the issues causing it.

Things flared up again more recently when an online journalist was falsely flagged as a security threat and escorted from the convention she was reporting at, all without any investigation into the matter. Turns out, a bully with an agenda and a friendship with the actors’ bodyguard had sent an out-of-context screencap of the journalist tweeting a quote from a different show. Some “threat”, huh?

Some fans rallied to her defense, and others continued to attack. Look for the hashtags #IStandWithEmily and #EmilyDeservesAnswers for those who support her. The matter still hasn’t been fully settled; the convention apologized and refunded her, but their hands had been tied anyway during the whole thing. The show, the network, the stars and the bodyguard involved all still have yet to address the incident, apart from some vicious tweets from the bodyguard immediately after that he’s since erased.

To add insult to injury, the same journalist had been organizing and fundraising commemorative mugs and gift baskets for the cast and crew, to celebrate their tenth season and 200th episode (aired earlier this week).

The 200th episode itself was another touchy subject. Supernatural seems to have no qualms about meta commentary and breaking the fourth wall on occasion, and has multiple entire episodes pretty much centered around doing just that. The results are…mixed, to put it diplomatically. Reception among the fans depends greatly on who you talk to.

It’s not surprising; the show has a history of not understanding fandom, of not handling PR well, and of inadvertently condoning or deliberately ignoring bullying behavior of some of the fans towards many others. Of course they’re going to be a little “off” when it comes to trying to break the fourth wall on the show and have meta commentary on something they don’t actually seem to understand all that well. They give us broad strokes, and the reality is very nuanced. It’s an obvious and understandable mistake, but one they could have handled much better in the past if they’d not been so blind to their own privileges and the damage they were causing.

It’s understandable that fans who have had a painful experience at the hands of the people in charge of a thing they love, and at the hands of other people proclaiming to love that thing, might be a bit wary, a little mistrustful, and just too tired to keep hoping and fighting for what they love. It’s understandable they might not feel safe in the general fandom. It’s understandable they might decide they need a break, or some reassurance from people like them, before they risk exposing themselves again.

If the thing you love has been a cause of pain, betrayal, attacks, threats, and all manner of not feeling welcome or safe, and if the people perpetuating that behavior feel vindicated doing so due to comments made by the people who are ACTUALLY in charge of that thing, then yes, taking a break or even leaving it forever are totally legit options. That’s kind of obvious.

I’m new to this fandom, and while I do already have some pretty strong loyalties, I haven’t been on the front lines of this fight. I haven’t been attacked for years, as some have. I haven’t had to go through the roller-coaster of hints and hopes and disappointment. I went into this thing pretty late in the run, and I was pretty heavily aware of exactly what to expect from it. I went in, but I did it with my eyes open and my guard up. The fans I’ve paid attention to are fabulous people. I avoid the ones who aren’t adding to my experience of the show, the ones who are attacking those things I feel loyalty towards, the ones who are bullies. It’s a survival method. I get to bask in the good stuff, while aware enough of the bad to try and avoid stepping in it. I stick to the edges still, but now there’s some interaction going on, too.

Back to the 200th episode. It was promoted as a “love letter to the fans”, which made some of those fans very nervous. Not only is the fandom heavily divided and antagonistic with a history of bullying, but the show itself has a track record during some of those meta episodes AND in the real world of belittling and insulting many of the very fans who’ve supported it and kept it on the air for those ten years. There was a very strong and skeptical “wait and see” vibe on my Twitter feed.

Then people started live-tweeting as they watched the episode.

Reports trickled in that sounded more hopeful, and then some started doing that “fan-flailing” sort of excited all-caps tweets that are probably about half the reason I love being around fandoms. The show had actually given the fans something they could enjoy, to various degrees. Not everyone loved it, of course, and like everything in life it could have been even better. Yes, all those other issues still existed. Yes, there is still all the baggage and bullying to contend with. But the 200th was far better than a lot of us had feared, and it gave those who analyze the meta a lot of new material to work with (which is probably another quarter of the reason I love fandom — meta analysis is addictive when you’re already an over-thinking geek who loves mythos and the process and ideas behind storytelling).

I’m not holding my breath for things to get any better in the fandom or the show. Despite what all my positivity may suggest, I’m much more pragmatic than optimistic. But because I stick to the edges, because I went in with my eyes open and never had to have the painful process of disappointment and attacks, I can set all the politics and social issues and bigger picture to one side for a moment, and just enjoy the ride of the 200th as a stand-alone, isolating it for the moment from this history attached to it and enjoying it at face-value only. From that point of view, it was a pretty fantastic episode; full of giggles and nods and surprisingly insightful yet utterly ridiculous songs. There were plenty of things to flail over, even if they turn out not to be as meaningful in that bigger picture in the future. For one hour, I could just enjoy being a fangirl.

The episode is called Fan Fiction, and I think what I want to take away from it as the moral of the story is this: the story belongs to anyone who loves it enough to care about it, to anyone with the passion to fight for it and believe in it, even if the story they’re focused on is slightly (or very) different than someone else’s. It’s not about what’s “canon” and what isn’t. It’s about the heart of storytelling — drawing people together, taking them into someone else’s life and bringing them on a journey, letting them experience emotions and situations they wouldn’t otherwise, and leave them feeling a little more connected to the people around them afterwards. Fanfic or canon doesn’t matter; at this level, all good storytelling becomes equal. It’s the story that’s valid, not the origins. And good storytellers are valuable, whatever they’re credentials, because they’re how stories stay alive and relevant and able to grow.

In that respect, I’d say the little corner of fandom I’ve been on the edges of is doing things exactly right. Storytelling and fiction exist to be shared. Studies show that people who are exposed to fiction develop more empathy for others, because it helps them understand who are different than them, people whose lives look nothing like their own but whose emotions and struggles are just as real. Clearly it isn’t a magic cure, or else no one in a fandom would be bullying anyone else, but it’s a good starting place. The friendships and support that can come out of shared storytelling and fandom can last a lifetime, and are the foundation of a functioning society of any size. We need empathy to survive as a people, and we certainly need it to thrive and grow ourselves.

Be kind to each other, and read more. Both acts are good for you.

Love,
GeGi.

Read Your Book Case

The Ups and Downs of being a Fan; Or, “Joss Whedon, George RR Martin and Steven Moffat walk into a bar and everyone you have ever loved dies.”

If you know who came up with that quote originally, I will credit them. I heard it in a comments board, and it is SO. TRUE. *cries*

Ahem, so, anyways…

I’ve been reading the Snark Squad reviews on Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel the series — which are hilarious and clever and I’m utterly addicted to them — which is where this quote popped up. As a fan of things created by all three of the men, I am acutely aware of their ability to break our hearts in the most effective and surprising ways possible in the name of good story-telling, and make us paradoxically curse their names and beg for more at the same time.

But it happens to be especially timely right now, because I’ve also been processing the fact that there’s only TWO episodes of Matt Smith as the Doctor left.

As a Whovian, realizing you’ll soon have to say good-bye to another Doctor is always a very bittersweet moment. And I’m still traumatized (in a sort of good way, I guess) about saying goodbye to Amy and Rory last season… *sigh* Such is the price of fandom for a good series.

The very first time I heard of the Doctor, it was during Christopher Eccleston’s year, and it wasn’t even an episode. A friend of my older brother’s had some kind of documentary special about Doctor Who playing on the TV in the background, and I kept noticing clips of it. The two images that stuck with me especially were of Peter Davison and his bit of celery (I knew him as an actor from the All Creatures Great and Small series, and loved him in it), and of Christopher Eccleston telling Rose to grab his hand and run, which I later discovered was from their very first meeting in the first episode of his time as the Doctor.

Some time later, I finally got to see the entire of the Ninth Doctor’s season properly, from start to finish. I streamed it off Netflix — back when Netflix was just starting to do that — and watched the whole thing in about two days.

It took a while to adjust to David Tennant. He was so different than the leather-jacket-clad, battle-weary, serious Doctor I first knew. He was always babbling on about things, being so upbeat, wearing the suit and trainers. But he grew on me, as new Doctors do. I learned to love the suit and trainers, to love the babbling and to appreciate that the upbeat side of him was just this Doctor’s way of coping with that part of him that could be vengeful.

Image

He had so much range as the Doctor, and so much evolution. I bonded with him, inevitably, and he because my new Doctor.

My favorite moment with him is actually from one of the short specials they’d do for Children In Need. Naturally, it was the one with Tennant and Davison. The heartfelt speech Tennant gives to Davison, saying “you were my Doctor”, makes me cry good tears every time, because it seem like each of us has “our” Doctor — often the first one we’ve ever seen — who will always be “the” Doctor in that special place in our hearts. It’s like a baby animal imprinting.

I also began to watch more of the older Doctors, and gain some history and perspective on the series as a whole. I discovered that my Mum had watched Doctor Who with her Dad during their family’s year in England when she was ten, and we figured out that “her” Doctor was Patrick Troughton (this has since changed to David Tennant, as she saw the cheesiness that is the old Doctor Who episodes, and as I’ve been getting her hooked on the newer series).

And then the inevitable ending began. It was quite drawn out with Tennant, as they knew for some time that he was leaving, and took pains to build up to it quite effectively. That last scene with him is so heartbreaking, no matter how many times I watch it.

And Matt Smith began. I was swept away by him and Amelia Pond right off, and had high expectations of excellence knowing that Steven Moffat — the brilliance behind “The Empty Child”, “The Doctor Dances”, “The Girl in the Fireplace”, “Blink”, “Silence in the Library”, and “Forests of Dead” (all some of my favorite episodes) — was taking over at the helm. I was not disappointed. That first year of Smith was every bit as rich and detailed and exciting as I could have hoped for, and I adored the hints and clues in every episode for the season(s) long story-arch set-ups.

As the Smith years went on, I watched the characters grow and evolve. The mystery behind River Song was slowly revealed. Rory became my hero. And so on. The exits of Amy and Rory was heartbreaking perfection, the only acceptable way for those characters to ever leave the show. I was caught up in the new mystery of the Impossible Girl, which also eventually played out to perfection.

And now Matt Smith is leaving.

There’s a lot of speculation about who the New Doctor will be. I’m ignoring it, because I think the best way to meet the new Doctor — and the only way that matters if you want to see what kind of Doctor he’ll be — is by seeing him regenerate and discover himself for himself. I’m looking forward to seeing what he’ll be like, but I’m also sad that Matt Smith is leaving. It’s like saying a final good-bye to a dear friend every time. But before that sure-to-be-tear-filled final Matt Smith Christmas Special, there’s the 50th Anniversary special in November, which is confirmed to have a return of Tennant!

It’s like Moffat is trying to rip our hearts out just a little bit more…