How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Embrace My Inner Fan Girl.

So today today was geek Christmas, at least for this girl. The premiere of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic (which I totally missed because I overslept) and the 50th anniversary Doctor Who special, which was magical and special and 1000% perfect even absolutely nothing happened like I thought it would.

When I was a kid Doctor Who was that weird show with the funny special effects that PBS showed when they weren't showing the things that young Barbi wanted to watch, like Reading Rainbow, The Electric Company, and Sesame Street. And at that young age, I hadn't yet learned that I could have more than one fandom, so Star Trek was it. And for years, nothing actually could compare to Star Trek. Until March 14, 2006 (yeah, I had to look that up). That was the day Sci Fi first aired the first episode of the new Doctor Who. One hour later, I was a Whovian. I tuned in eagerly every Friday night. I didn't have dvr back then. Or many friends. But I had Doctor Who (and my Deep Space Nine dvds of course). 

I loved Nine. I loved Rose. I loved their adventures. It was serious sci fi, but it was fun. The Doctor was sad and kind and goofy and happy. Although I always thought he was a bit mean to Mickey. That was a touch problematic. But he had depth. He had Deep Space Nine like depth, and coming from me that is a high complement. (My love for DS9 is everlasting). Rose was fun and enthusiastic and never ever seemed to do what the Doctor told her to do. And Captain Jack. Captain Jack was...Captain Jack. He was super duper extra full of amazingness, and dude could rock the hell out of trench coat. And suspenders.

Image comes from here: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Captain-Jack-Harkness-225051164

My love for Doctor Who grew exponentially when David Tennant became the 10th doctor. I loved Ten. And I'll be honest. My love grew exponentially the first time I saw 10 put on his glasses in "The Girl in the Fireplace." That was the day I discovered that the Doctor was a sexy sexy Time Lord. That was the day I became a super Whovian.

                                                           Rawr.

But as much as I loved Ten (especially when he wore his glasses), I loved Ten and Rose together even more. I have watched the second series of Doctor Who umpteen million times because I love them so much. I cried hard when Rose was sucked off into the alternate universe. In fact, I've only ever been able to watch that particular episode a few times. It still hurts me to see them part ways.

And the day I got Netflix streaming was the day I discovered classic Who. Seriously, young Barbi was stupid not to watch Doctor Who back in the day because my discovery of Three was an amazing amazing day. I can't hate a man who rocks frilly shirts and opera capes and drives a jaunty yellow car with its own jaunty little theme song.

                                    Seriously, Three OWNS that cape. And the jaunty car.

And Five! He was just SO NICE. And kind hearted. And you can't hate a man who rocks celery as part of his ensemble. The more I watched, the more I realized that, though Ten is still my favorite, I love all of the Doctors. I love their adventures and the fact that even though the Doctor is a  nearly immortal Time Lord he always comes back to save Earth and take a few lucky humans (and a few aliens too) along with him on his adventures. And after I watched these earlier episodes, which take place before The Last Great Time War, I came to understand the magnitude of the loneliness that the Doctor experiences after all of his people have perished at his hands. I understood why Ten was so eager to save the Master even though he was a total asshole. And I understood why it was so hard for Ten to let Rose go. It wasn't just because he loved her, although that was definitely a huge part of it. It was because he had lost so many people throughout his 900 years of life. Five, for example, was so haunted by Adric's death that he sacrifices his own life to save Peri. Adric is the last word he says before he regenerates.

And because I myself was so lonely and so sad at that time, I began to identify with him even more because I understood what it was like to be lonely and friendless. And although I was very sad to see Ten go, I was glad that Eleven seemed to have finally found a small measure of peace because in the fifth series he seemed to take joy in life again.

But when the BBC announced that David Tennant and Billie Piper were coming back for the 50th anniversary special, there was a lot of nerd joy in my heart that day. I couldn't wait to see them together in the special. November 23rd could not get here soon enough.

                                                        Serious nerd excitement
                                                        Also: Ten. Rawr.
Image from: http://www.doctorwho.tv/

And today, the day finally came. When it started, I had the beginnings of a migraine, but I took some headache remedy and told my head to cooperate, which it did (mostly). Absolutely nothing was going to stop me from watching the 50th anniversary special, not even a migraine. I won't post any spoilers because I wouldn't want to spoil the joy of seeing the special for the first time for anyone. All I'll say is that is was absolutely nothing like I expected, but that's fine because the special was perfect. By the end I was smiling (there's an extra special bit at the end btw!). And I'm glad I have dvr now because I have recorded the special so I can watch it again tomorrow.

And here comes the part where I reflect on how much I've changed since I discovered the glory that is Doctor Who:

So over the years, my interest in Doctor Who shifted from a really cool sci fi show to something that's become a part of me. And because life is always in a state of flux, I changed along with the Doctor. I'm no longer that lonely girl sitting at home on Friday (and Saturday) nights watching Doctor Who with her cat(s). I still watch Doctor Who alone on Saturday nights with my cats, but now that's because it's my choice and not my only option. I met people who helped me realize that I don't need to be ashamed or embarrassed by my love all things sci fi. Because of these people, I learned to be a proud nerdy fan girl because that's who I am, and I don't need to be ashamed of who I am.

And when I realized that, I came to love Doctor Who even more because I was able to be open and enthusiastic about my love and talk about it with other people who love it too. And that began to extend to other parts of my life. Among my friends, I've become known as the person who will insist that Deep Space Nine is not only the best Star Trek show, it's one of the best shows period. I do this frequently. I own my love of Ten and his glasses. I have absolutely no problem wearing my giant Rarity necklace when I teach. I am the proud human caretaker of three cats (yes. three!). I went to a Roxette concert alone last September in San Francisco, and it was a dream come true. I felt no shame or embarrassment in going by myself. I was thrilled to see a group I have loved since I was ten years old live in concert. I didn't need anyone's approval or support. I sport my Pride and Prejudice phone cover with pride, and I will be happy to tell you all about the glory that is Victorian sensation fiction of the mid-nineteenth century. And this Halloween, for the very first time, I cosplayed, dressing up as Fionna from Adventure Time. And living my life this way is freeing.

I'm not perfect by any means and neither is my life. It took time to learn these things and to own them. I still struggle with depression and anxiety a lot. I'm STILL in grad school. I'm not overly fond of the way I look. And even though I have no desire to be in a relationship, I'm way too concerned with being single and unmarried. But I'm learning (albeit very slowly) that these things aren't important because I've learned that it's okay to be a nerdy, geeky fan girl.

Thank you for reading. Now go watch some Doctor Who!

Ode to Howl's Moving Castle

19 December 2011

Seriously, the last two weeks have been hella stressful. Every semester I tell myself that I’ll be better about my grading, but I totally failed at that this semester. As a result, I haven’t done much the last week but sleep, eat, and grade. Thankfully, now all of my grading is done and my grades are posted. Now comes my yearly pre-Christmas frantic cleaning and errand running. Fun! (not really)

But all of that is for tomorrow. Right now I’m watching my go-to relaxation movie, Howl’s Moving Castle. I bought a copy of this ages ago solely because I’m huge Studio Ghibli fan (and apparently I paid a whopping $24.95 for it). I watched it, and enjoyed it, but it wasn’t until I spent a semester in England that I really became attached to it.

Without a doubt, that semester in England was one of the most stressful periods of my life, and I did not handle it well at all. I realize now that I was going through a pretty serious bout of depression (which began before I even left for England), but hindsight is 20/20. I spent four months cold, broke, sick, lonely, and hungry. I was there January through May of 2007.  English winters were a shock to me. Now, I’ve lived in the South for my entire life, ya’ll. I was not used to months of cold, rainy, cloudy days. I did not have suitable attire for English winters, so I was cold pretty much all the time. My stomach was constantly hurting from the stress of the work load. And every two weeks, like clockwork, I got sick.  

For some reason, the only thing that would give me any modicum of relief was watching Howl’s Moving Castle. I’m not sure why. I would watch it over and over again in one sitting. That movie was my escape, my comfort.  It still is. Even now, I rarely travel without it. Even though Diana Wynne Jones was English and movie is Japanese, something about it felt like home. In watching it, I was able to get lost in the narrative. It enabled me to forget about looming paper deadlines (there was this paper about Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Women that was particularly torturous) and the need to put together a dissertation committee from overseas. When watching Howl’s Moving Castle, all of that disappeared for a bit.

There’s something captivating about the story. I love everything about it, the narrative, Sophie, Miyazaki’s signature animation style, his use of color and imager, I even love the English dub. And I have this movie to thank for introducing me to one of my all-time favorite authors, Diana Wynne Jones. (fyi: Howl’s Moving Castle is a delightful book, quite a bit different than the film, but fantastic all the same) Watching it today reminds me of that time in my life. I don’t regret going to England. I met some interesting people (oddly enough, they were mostly Americans). I got the chance to live with an English family for five weeks. I was able to go to London multiple times. I got the chance to see Patrick Stewart perform in two different Shakespeare plays (Yes, I was in the same room as Captain Picard!!!) I read some absolutely fantastic Victorian literature, and I loved, loved, loved talking about that literature in my classes.

But underneath it all, was that insidious depression (mental illness is a bitch like that). I wish that back then I had been brave enough to get help. What I didn’t realize at the time was that no amount of interesting and cool stuff and fun people could make that go away. I really felt like a freak because I couldn’t have fun like the others. But for a couple of hours at least, Howl’s Moving Castle, helped me not think about it all. And for that, I’m still profoundly grateful. 

Ode to Deep Space Nine

A few months ago, I began to watch my Deep Space Nine DVD’s.  I’ve seen every episode multiple times and I’ve owned all seven seasons for a long time now, but I’ve never taken the time to rewatch all seven seasons all the way through.  But, as my friends could tell you, I would always argue about its status as the best Star Trek show, and, in my own humble opinion, the best show ever.  So, toward the end of the summer, I dusted off my DS9 DVD’s, fired up my trusty DVD player, and began to watch. 

            DS9 saw me through high school and most of college, an incredibly awkward (and incredibly long) period of my life.  And as I went through each season, I remembered my life as it was back when the show first aired.  When DS9 began, I was 15 and I hid my Star Trek love because it was the height of nerd-ity to be a trekkie, and fitting in was of tantamount importance to me.  About seven months before the show began, we had moved halfway across the country, from Georgia to Texas.  I was shy and lonely and I had trouble making friends, but Star Trek was always there for me.  I wasn’t lazing about on Saturday nights, I had plans—to watch Star Trek, and that was important to me.  I made sure to be home most Saturday nights because I did not want to miss a single episode. Besides, it was a Star Trek show, and I owed it to Star Trek to watch every single episode.  By the end of the first season, I was hooked, and grateful to have Deep Space Nine, particularly when we again relocated to a new town at the end of my freshman year of high school.  I felt even more shy, awkward, and lonely, and I felt like I had forgotten how to make friends, but DS9 was still there for me on Saturday nights.  I’m not exaggerating when I say that this show helped me get through high school relatively unscathed. 

By the time the fifth season began airing, I was a freshman in college, and DS9 had gotten really good.  Again, I didn’t have too terribly many friends, so my Saturday nights were generally free for DS9.  During the seventh season, I fell in love for the first time (he was a Deep Space Nine fan too).  At the end of the seventh, I had worked up the courage (and convinced my parents) to spend the summer going to school Mexico, so I missed the last six episodes of the show.  I peppered my parents with frequent emails, reminding them to NEVER EVER FORGET TO TAPE EVERY SINGLE EPISODE OF DS9 THAT AIRED WHILE I WAS GONE.  I forbade my boyfriend to tell me anything that happened.  I was determined to enjoy these last episodes without spoilers.  Watching DS9 was one of the first things I did after I got home.  I locked myself in my parents’ spare room and tore through those last episodes of the show.  I think I cried through the most of the last episode.  Watching that show end was like losing a friend. 

            After the end of the last episode, tv stations showed DS9 in syndication for a while, and I watched as much as I could, but after a few years, it sadly began to disappear from tv, I was in my first grad school by this point (another incredibly awkward time of my life, and again I didn’t have too terribly many friends), and I sorely missed its presence on Saturday nights, but I still had Voyager and Enterprise to keep me company.  A few years later I began collecting the dvd’s and The first three seasons of Deep Space Nine kept me company when I was spending a semester in England.  The exchange rate in 2007 was two dollars to a pound, so I was broke quite often.   I watched those first three seasons over and over again with an American friend who loved the show just as much as I do.  We spent hours watching the episodes and discussing the underlying themes, good plot lines, and overall minutiae of Deep Space Nine.  It was fantastic to finally find someone who appreciated it just as much as I do. 

            Fast forward three years to the summer of 2010.  I have a whole group of friends, who though they aren’t the Star Trek fans that I am, are at least familiar with the show. And I am proud to say that I am a trekkie.  I’m still in grad school, and being a TA is not the most lucrative of professions, particularly in the summer.  I fell behind in paying my cable and internet bill, so the cable company saw fit to suspend my service (note to cable company: I have paid my bill). So, without cable or internet, I pull out my trusty DS9 dvds.  And watching the episodes again these last few months has been fantastic.  It makes me glad that I was without cable and internet.  My long years of grad school and years of teaching critical thinking skills to college freshman has enabled me to enjoy this show on a deeper level.  Watching it as a whole, I can now see the way the writers crafted these intricate, detailed, complex, and involved plot lines, and I now marvel at their skill and ingenuity in writing this show—even more than I did in the 90s.  I love this show far more now than I did when it was first on. 

And in rewatching these episodes, I remember seeing these episodes for the first time; I remember the feelings I had when I saw these episodes for the first time; and I remember where I was and what I was doing when I saw these episodes for the first time.  And somehow, remembering my past through the lens of Deep Space Nine makes it seem a little less sad awkward.  I’m definitely not nostalgic for my teens and twenties, but I guess I don’t feel the embarrassment at my awkward and almost friendless state, and I tell anyone who will listen that I am a proud to be a Star Trek fan.  Watching this show makes me remember that I did have a few real friends, who knew I was a complete geek, but didn’t care, and it makes me grateful that I have still have real friends now, who proudly fly their geek flags right along side of me.  And by the time Deep Space Nine ended, I realized that Sisko, Kira, Bashir, Jadzia, Worf, O’Brien, Odo, Quark, Jake, and the many other characters on the show were, in a way, my friends too.  I felt that when I was watching the show, I was a part of their (albeit fictional) lives, and the show had become a part of my life too. 

 I’m about to start the seventh and final season now, and I want to take my time with this season.  I’ll only watch an episode every day or two and when I do get to that last episode, I’ll close my blinds, grab my Kleenex, and quietly watch that last episode one more time.  And I’ll probably cry all the way through the episode.  I always do.