My Soul Hath Elbow Room!

Okay, so I've finally got around to listening to 8DA: Situation Vacant.

It was quite enjoyable, but what I'm still giggling about is that VLC loaded the tracks for the first half in a jumbled order, and I totally failed to notice.

"Oh, right, we're starting in media res. And now we've jumped back to them all meeting. And now we're in two teams running around all being faintly useless... hold on, where did the giant robot come from?" *peers at playlist* "Ohhhhh."

Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey...

(I expect you're going to want to do the 'Wow, it's bigger on the inside!' bit. Excuse me if I only give token responses. Oh, Eight ♥)

In other news:
Scientists have found possibly the earliest divergence on the evolutionary tree of plantlife, a kind of algae (or seaweed; the article uses both) that also sounds like it's a missing link in the evolution of multicellular organisms: it's made up of lots of cells, buit they're not talking to one another so much as clustered in a gelatinous cube mess - that is, nevertheless, structured into stalks and leaves.

Oh, and we've trapped antimatter for the first time, so that's one step closer to being able to eject warp cores every other week, I guess?

After the crop circle in the shape of pi a couple of years ago, you'd think the Doctor would be more careful.

But no. Looks like he's drunk again.

Okay, so when I mentioned that I was having Doctor Who withdrawal it was silly enough.

I listened to Survival of the Fittest on Thursday, watched The Space Museum on Saturday and the first half of The Chase yesterday. And I'm getting antsy waiting for my dad to go out so I can put The Architects of History on.

Ironically, the creative part of my brain isn't interested in Who at all: it just wants to tell me all about the crazy short people running around Eterna.

I wonder how much of it is anticipation, and how much is transferred anxiety from jobseeking/family crap/etc turning into escapism.

Can has Easter nao plx?

If the dreams are a gateway to the subconscious, then here's what I learned about mine last night:

1. It is a little behind the current curve of my fandom life.


2. It still really, really likes Harry Potter.


3. But not enough to not periodically morph me into Hermione so I could call Harry/myself an idiot.


4. It is confused between teenage magic users and thinks that Hogwarts secret passages may be found in Sabrina's airing cupboard (well, my airing cupboard, but I recognise the device when I see it).


5. It is still utterly convinced that Potter witches fly their brooms sidesaddle, despite years of trying to square the canon with my mental image.


6. It's got its own Potter OC, who never makes it into fic but turns up regularly in the relevant dreams.


7. It is still, without fail, capable of creating a coherent plotline with a maximum of one 'dream' element (in this case, the airing cupboard). Boy, if I'd known I was hardwiring my brain into storytelling this effectively, I'd probably have eased off a bit...

(Srsly. Astride on a broom? Doesn't work! Sidesaddle! SIDESADDLE I SAY!)

You.

Yeah, you, the three Time Tots hiding behind the sofa from the Thing. Come out and talk to me.

Seriously, kids. I've restarted Chapter Three four times because you can't decide who's got POV, how Tagalong escapes from his Loom, or at what precise time Snail comes back down the stairs. And just when I finally think we've got it all sorted out, you wander off and don't even bother to leave the plot behind, so I have to scramble to reconstruct it from scratch.

Flabbaduckarusa. HERBIVORES ARE IMPORTANT. Stop trying to erase the plot point, sweetie, mmkay?

Snail. Work out a way to get your necessary character development in, willya? You don't have to do it all by yourself, you know, your brother's right there.

Tagalong. I want a detailed, timestamped chart of your position relative to the Thing's, on my desk by tomorrow morning. No buts. No bloodstains. No bullying the others into doing it for you.

And you, Time Lord Dogsbody #1, come back here so the furious NPCs can exposit at you.

First Steps is over a year old now, guys. I have Chester waiting in the wings, not to mention Four and Romana hacking through the bath-house with a machete. If I have to write a sentence a day, so help me, I will finish this.

But it'll go a lot faster if y'all help.

Are we ready? Good! Let's go, then.

Who knew? Apparently there really is no problem in sci-fi that can't be solved by the addition of a smug talking computer.

(Okay, so strictly speaking it only solves Flabbaduckarusa/Braxiatel's section, but since he's the one who's been causing most of the problems, I'm happy.)

While researching names of the Master's (probable) Cousins for the raging behemoth that is First Steps*, it occurred to me that DW fans probably react to a lot of episodes in exactly the same way as most Time Lords would.

To whit: "That can't happen! The timelines --! We've got to rewrite the entire chronology of the universe again now, you imbeciles!"

It's no wonder this fandom was the one to come up with the phrase 'wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey', really, is it?


*Must... finish... exposition... scene... plot... can't... function... without... it...

It has begun.

Today, I bought a Doctor Who DVD that I already owned, because I'd forgotten I had it.

I'm doomed. DOOOOOOOMED.

Still, if it ever becomes necessary (doubtful), I can totally watch Romana regenerate in stereo.

/\/\/\

I'm really starting to get annoyed with the Time War being used as a crutch by New Who writers. Big universal catastrophe, sure - but that doesn't mean that every single alien orphan gets to blame the Doctor for their woes. I'm looking at you, today's episode of Sarah Jane Adventures.

Despite that, though, I hope we get a name for Eve's species, because being a time-sensitive race ranks them right up there with the Time Lords and Monans as temporally active powers, and we don't have enough of them - besides, I have a Gallifrey-based fic floating about in my head, and it'd be nice not to have to rely solely on the Monans (who kind of bore me) for politicking.

Also, Eve has Ocampa-ears. Which makes me smile.

In deference to my resolution to start explaining my journal entries to People Who Are Not Me, I shall attempt to explain: for the past few months, I've been doing my dissertation.

One of the particular annoyances of being stuck writing a dissertation, and thus barred from fiction (it makes me feel guilty), is that my imagination has gone into overdrive looking for other things to do. Mostly, it's been worldbuilding.

In some cases, this is good: I've sorted out one of my biggest bugbears about Saril, although it does mean that the entire series has to be replotted from scratch.

In other cases... well, see, I have two new ideas for Doctor Who series. Long, long series.

#1: Stone Age 'Time Lords'. Possibly closer to a series of vignettes or short stories, moving slowly forwards in time up until Rassilon.

Reason: Recently, I've become simply fascinated with the idea of Cave Lords: what were their predators like? How long were their lives? What were the particular environmental perils that led to the respiratory bypass and sub-zero temperature survival? When did the Untempered Schism open? Was it the only rift? etc, etc.

#2: Some sort of soap centred on a couple of random clerks on Gallifrey, possibly the ones who have to sort out the messes the Doctor leaves behind.

Reason: There just isn't enough domestic Gallifrey stuff, largely due to fandom's reluctance to touch the Doctor's backstory (and with good reason). Gallifrey the series is wonderful, but it's all at such a high level - we know almost nothing about those plebeian classes that Spandrell was so concerned with.

#3: Both. #1 turns into #2.

The thing is, worldbuilding Gallifrey is one of my favourite things to do when bored; it's a peculiar position we're in, knowing loads about the people but next to nothing about their society, and it's brilliant fun to play with. As is probably evident, I'm currently toying around with Cave Lords a lot: they'd be a lovely challenge to write about, fundamentally similar to and yet absolutely different from the Time Lords they will become...

I think, once I've finished my dissertation First Steps (oooh, look, domestic Gallifrey fic again...!), I'll give Cave Lords a go. Of course, I'm not sure they're technically Doctor Who any more...

So I'm sitting here, marshalling my thoughts for the next 400 words of rubbish about Mithraism and listening to Charlie Drake complain that his boomerang won't come back, and suddenly it occurs to me that 'If you want your boomerang to come back, then first you've got to throw it' is, in fact, a great analogy for life.

Proof of my sanity remains only in that I immediately realised this was pretentious and silly and, in the name of procrastinators everywhere, came here to blog about it.

SEND HELP.

(Also, may I be excused from the Gallant Six Hundred?)