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All posts for the month June, 2013

“I Don’t Want To Go”

Published June 5, 2013 by Malia

These words turned me into a sobbing mess a few years ago.  David Tennant was leaving Who, and as far as I was concerned there was no way anyone could ever equal his fantasticness (yes, that is totally a word).  In case you have no clue what I’m talking about, here’s the clip:

So, yes, it was incredibly dramatic, and it took me quite a while before I would watch any of the new episodes with Matt Smith.  However, my love of the story won out, and eventually I caved and got sucked into the Amy/Rory/River story.  Honestly, I was never the biggest Amy fan, but I loved Rory and River, so it was okay.  Then Clara came along, and I absolutely adore her.  I’ve really enjoyed the stories in the last 3 seasons, but I’ve never turned into a huge Matt Smith fan.  I think he’s done a good job, and has certainly gotten better as time has passed.  However, I’ve been ready for the next regeneration since the end of season 5.

If you can’t guess, I’m in the minority on this one.

See, there’s a lot of people who are experiencing the emotions I felt when Tennant left.  I’ve read everything from “NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” to “The show must be cancelled, because there’s no other reason Matt Smith would leave.”  Well, all I can say is, “Welcome to Doctor Who.”

Up until a few years ago most people weren’t aware of the quirky little show.  Sometime between season 1 and season 5 (Doctors 9-11), the majority of the world realized there was this fantastic, absurb, wonderful show made by the BBC.

thinkgeek.com

This is why everyone is so upset.  For them, Matt Smith was the first Doctor.  Sure, they know that there were loads of other Doctors.  They may even be able to name them (number and corresponding actor).  However, none of those other Doctors introduced them to the TARDIS, and Daleks, and Cybermen, and Weeping Angels, and Ice Warriors, and the Sonic Screwdriver, and well, you get the idea.  Matt introduced so many to Who, and that’s absolutely fantastic.

However, for those that are about to experience the regeneration of “their” Doctor, this is going to be an incredibly difficult rest of the year.  So, if you’re like me and this isn’t your first rodeo, sit back and enjoy the ride.  If, however, this is your first time to experience this, let me tell you…It will be awful.  It will actually be worse than you prepare yourself for.  However, in August 2014 (I believe that’s when the season 8 is due to premiere), grit your teeth, tune in, and watch the episodes.  Yes, the next Doctor will not be Eleven.  It will be someone new with a completely different take and approach to our favorite Time Lord.  It will be hard.  Then, it will get a little easier.  Eventually, you’ll either find yourself in the boat I’m in currently (enjoying the show, but anxiously awaiting the next regeneration), or you’ll come to love the new Doctor almost as much as you love Eleven.

Now, onto the super important question.  Who’s my pick for the 12th Doctor?  Well, I doubt that it would ever happen, but my pick would be Robert Carlyle.

abc.go.com

He’s currently doing a fantastic job as Mr. Gold/Rumplestiltskin on Once Upon A Time, and that seems like a gig that’s going to keep going for a while.  True, he’s not as young as Matt Smith or David Tennant, but he’s got a charm and a darkness that would be perfect for Who.

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I Can Be Your Herooooooooo

Published June 1, 2013 by Malia

Today as I was driving to work, I realized that I have not updated this blog in nearly a month.  I had a few posts I started writing, but it was all awkward and slightly disjointed.  Mostly, I just haven’t felt like I’ve had much to write about.  Lately, my days consist of getting up, exercising, going to work, coming home, exercising, and going to bed.  My weekends replace going to work with puppet rehearsal and errands.  Oh, yeah, I’ve also been having mini-panic attacks.  I guess I’m becoming a grown-up.

Y’know, part of being a grown up is dealing with things.  Things like failures and screw-ups.  The counselor I saw last fall told me I have an adjustment disorder.  In case you’re wondering, that’s fancy talk for “doesn’t like change or accept it gracefully, if at all.”  It’s pretty much true.  Weirdly, I remember a time when I really enjoyed change.  Every time my  family would move, I’d be excited (unlike normal kids who pitch a fit about their lives being ruined).  I was convinced that each move was just another adventure.  I loved adventures.  I loved seeing new things, and meeting new people (I still love seeing new things, but not so much the whole meeting new people).  I’m not sure when this optimism melted into terror.  I just know that somewhere in the last ten years, I began to fear change.  Change was never good, nothing good could come of it.

I’m a vet tech.  I’ve even got a license from the state of Nebraska to prove this.  This means that I clawed my way through an associate’s program.  Sure, I attended a for-profit school.  I know a lot of people look down their noses at this.  However, I wasn’t just handed a degree.  I had to learn and prove I could do things like run anesthesia on a living animal (and successfully keep it alive during surgery), take radiographs, pill a cat, draw blood from a horse, assist in surgery, perform manual CBC’s, memorize more parasite’s than House ever mentioned, and a pile of other things that involved a lot more poop, pee, and blood and a lot less playing with the cute kitties and doggies.  On top of that I had to take classes.  And pass tests.  And do a 56  hour ward care week every 10 weeks (this was frequently included holidays, and I couldn’t always get the week off from my job).  Not only did I do all this, but once I did finally graduate (test anxiety helped push my 18 month plan out to being almost 3 years), I had to face the board exam.  The board exam was 225 questions covering all aspects of being a veterinary technician.  200 of the questions were scored, and 25 were thrown out, and of course we weren’t told which were the magic questions that were getting tossed.  I passed it.

The job I mentioned above?  I hated it.  I really, really hated it.  (However, I met some amazing people, and met some pets that will forever have my heart).  Not at first.  At first I loved it.  I was working in a vet clinic, and that was fantastic.  I started as a receptionist, with the understanding that I would gradually be worked into a tech position as I got further in my education.  At least, that’s what I thought.  There were a lot of things that went wrong (and most I can’t talk about, because the clinic would probably hunt me down and send dementors to suck my soul out).  I can say that the little confidence I had was destroyed by that place.  In the early days, when I was actually enthusiastic about learning to be a tech, the doctor blew me off more than once when it came to helping.  She regularly chose to have anyone but me lend a hand.  I know I wasn’t the best tech (but believe me, I’ve seen worse).  I struggled.  Lack of feeling in my fingers made blood draws next to impossible.  Emergencies made my mind go blank.  Asking people for money while they were saying good-bye to their best friend set off nuclear explosions in my heart, and  by the time I left I was completely heartless.  There was just a void.  (And yes, I know that medicine is all about the money.  Believe me there is nothing like having to ask someone in the throes of grief  and waiting for the euthanasia med to be administered, for over $100.  And when you get someone who explodes and tears you apart for something that’s killing you inside, it’s too much.  I especially hated how everyone around me acted like I was being too melodramatic.  “Sure, we hate it too.” They’d say, as I’d get ushered in to do the unpleasantness.)

I kept telling myself that I couldn’t quit.  I needed the money.  I had to pay my bills.  I think God knew I’d stay there until I had a stroke.  The job came to a painful end, but it was truly for the best.  I’ve never regretted my decision to leave.

I spent the next year looking for a job.  Most jobs that I applied to, I got replies like this:

Thanks for your time last week.  I have hired an extern instead of a full-time tech for now.  If things don’t work out, I will keep your resume.  Again, thank you for your time and good luck.   (Yeah, because a ungraduated, unlicensed, unexperienced tech is always the better option.  I translated this e-mail to mean: We don’t have to pay them, and we’d have to pay you.)

And then there’s this little gem:

After evaluating all candidates for this position we have determined that another candidate more closely fits the requirements set forth for this position. Accordingly, you will not be considered further for this particular opportunity.  

Anyway, this has been a long meandering route to get to the heart of what I wanted to talk about.  Basically, the nearly 5 years of constant rejection did quite a number on me.  I’m not proud of this.  I should be made of tougher stuff, but I’m not.  Following leaving the clinic, I really struggled with the idea of ever working in animal healthcare again.

Today, I was at work, doing my usual thing, and as I worked, my brain started thinking about things.  Things I didn’t necessarily want to think about.  I founds myself wondering if I could ever do anything good in animal healthcare.  Then, something wonderful happened.  I got a phone call.  Well, not me personally, but I’m the person who happened to answer the phone.  On the other end of the line was a vet tech who was absolutely frantic.  (And this is about where I have to skip over a pile of details, because I’m not wanting to step on HIPAA’s toes).  Long, long story short, she had a problem, and I was able to fix it.  It was positive for her, her clinic, and the animal.

Now, no one at work got why I was excited about fixing the problem.  I had done good in animal healthcare for the first time in forever!  I got to be the hero of the story.