Whovian Blues

Here's something a little out of the ordinary. Could it be? A serious post?

"No. Well...yeah." <- I don't think I'll ever be able to hear that kind of stuff in anything but Tennant's voice, now. Same goes for "Brilliant."

Prepare yourself, I'm about to talk about feelings, and if you want funny, skip to any other post in the selection. This one doesn't have it.

Recently I've gotten involved with the Dr. Who series. I started from the beginning here in Oxford and just finished season four. Why is this relevant, you ask?

Feelings. 

If you've watched the show, you might know what I mean.

But they're so addicting. I mean apart from the episodes, the clever humor, the (let's face it) attractive menfolk. It's the feelings of anger, happiness, and deep rooted sorrow. It's like air.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm no robot. Cyberman, or otherwise. I do feel things. Lots of things. Thrill of success at the latest prank, humor in sarcastic conversation, relief and relaxation when I finally hit the pillow on a Friday night after a week of very little sleep.

But those feelings. The raw ones. Those are wonderful. Only one I've felt in a while is frustration. Not all the time, of course, but it'll breach through on occasion if under the right circumstances. Stress reigns it in. Seals it up so even that's a shell of a real emotion.

I feel, but oh, does it feel good to feel. Especially sadness. Gut-wrenching sorrow. I don't get that too often, I'm too exhausted or busy. It's healthy, it must be, because I always feel a little lighter afterwards, like some amount of stress has been lifted from my shoulders that I didn't even know existed.

It's funny in a way. Probably because it's after 3:30am and I'm sleep deprived. Heck, I'll probably get up tomorrow and wipe this post from existence. Feelings truly are something, aren't they?

Brilliant. Just brilliant.