Welcome, one and all, to the documentation of my journey through Doctor Who. I don’t want to waste time with preamble, so I’ll jump right in with the exposition.
By the standards of Doctor Who fans, or Whovians as we are fondly (I hope) known, I am a newbie. A Newvian, one might say. I spent years hearing about this Doctor Who nonsense and people telling me how much I would love it if I just gave it a chance, but I’m irritatingly stubborn and don’t like being told what I will like. Therefore, I ignored it. Naturally.
See, I am what many will call a nerd. Or a geek. Or a dork. Or a ginger. At least one of these accusations must be true, so let me present the evidence before you.
Exhibit A: This is the photo of me that appeared in my high school yearbook my senior year.
Exhibit B: This is what I wore at my high school graduation ceremony.
Exhibit C: This is what happened when I suddenly had attention from the opposite sex.
Exhibit D: This really is my hair.
You decide which of these accusations are true.
My love, nay– my obsession— for Harry Potter is considered unhealthy. Ask anyone. (Please don’t ask anyone). When I become a fan, I get hardcore. Let’s list the somewhat “nerdy” things that I am a fan of:
Harry Potter, Merlin, Supernatural, Firefly (and Serenity), Battlestar Galactica, Star Trek (the new movies, sorry guys.), Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, Game of Thrones (Yes, I know A Song of Ice & Fire is a wonderful series), The Hunger Games, Star Wars, Torchwood, Shakespeare (He gets his own category, deal.), Jane Austen (so does she), Once Upon a Time, Sherlock, Les Miserables, The Tudors, The Avengers (all-inclusive), Percy Jackson, and of course…Doctor Who.
There will be NO discussion of Twilight in this blog. If you think I enjoy Twilight, you’re wrong. I will continue to go about my life pretending with painstaking effort that Twilight does not exist. Because…feminism. And literary merit. Yeah.
I think I made my point.
Anyway, it shouldn’t have taken as much effort as it did to get me to finally cave in and watch Doctor Who, but I had been led astray by fandoms before (please reference ‘Twilight’) so I was dragging my feet. Therefore, it was autumn of 2011 when I finally sat down with a few Whovian friends and watched my first episode, (‘Rose’, the first episode of the renewal in 2005), of Doctor Who.
And there was no going back.
I flew through the ninth Doctor, Christopher Eccleston like wildfire and onto the tenth Doctor, David Tennant in a fury.
I could not be stopped. I fell in love with David Tennant, straight-up ugly cried when Rose was abandoned in the parallel world, cursed that she actually came back because the other way was so much poetic (but dammit, that is so cute). I defended Donna and perfected a Catherine Tate impression…
…and when David Tennant left, I mourned his departure, swore off all possibility of ever loving another Doctor, and reluctantly started the episode The Eleventh Hour with our new Doctor Matt Smith.
And I promptly fell in love. How fickle, my heart.
Pretty soon my other housemates were hooked and we spent our days viewing episode after episode as day turned into night and back into day. You know, typical college life. Before I knew it, Netflix no longer had updated episodes and I had to, Time Lords forbid, wait for the seventh season to air. Wait I did, and I am now completely up to date with my beloved Doctor Who, while most eagerly awaiting the 50th Anniversary Special (SQUEEE!).
In the autumn of 2012, I was lucky enough to study abroad at the University of Winchester in England, where all my hopes and dreams were indeed realized. I am trying my darnedest to get back to Great Britain, because when you find your bliss you stay there. The point of this little anecdote is that, whilst I was abroad, I made a point to travel to Cardiff, Wales.
Cardiff, Wales is an important location for Whovians because it is the home to a major rift in time and space and to the headquarters for Torchwood.
My photographing skills are astounding, truly.
Furthermore, Cardiff Bay has somewhat recently acquired The Doctor Who Experience, which is too fantastic to explain in words, but it is the reason I have photos such at this:
Believe it or not, that is a face of joy.
And photos like this:
This is a face of…what were we talking about?
They say that imitation is the most sincere form of flattery.
And most definitely this:
Let me tell you how I really feel, Abzorbaloff.
In addition to my adventures at the Doctor Who Experience (which you should absolutely check out if you’re in the United Kingdom), I have a veritable collection of Doctor Who merchandise. Sonic screwdriver, the Master’s ring, a TARDIS mug, a key to the TARDIS, The Journal of Impossible Things, TARDIS coasters, and an Angel t-shirt are all included in the works.
Moral of the story: I am now, without a doubt, a Whovian– dare I say a hardcore Whovian. But being a Whovian isn’t enough. I want to be a Truvian.
A Truvian is a fan of Doctor Who that goes back– all the way back– to the original classic series starting in 1963. Up until now, this territory has been uncharted by myself or any of my friends. A few have tried, but gave up immediately. With the help of my housemate (Alex) and the support of many others, I am daring to make the journey.
The Journey Through Classic Who.
I will be documenting my thoughts, ideas, and summarizing the events of the Classic Doctor Who episodes that are available on Netflix. I hope you can brave this journey with me.