Oh You Just Shout

Well, well, well, it's that time of year again folks. Springtime. A time for the melting of snow, the blooming of flowers, the emerging of all those cute little woodland creatures from Bambi. It's a time of warmth, rebirth, and of course, Doctor Who.

Oh, did I say Doctor Who?



Teh, yeah I did! =D

That's right, series four of Doctor Who starts April 5 in the UK, which means that April 6 I will have seen the first episode. Woot!

This is doubly exciting for me since this year, under sheer force of will (and a lack of time) I made the conscious decision to go completely spoiler-free this year. That's right, me, the spoiler-knows-ever-thing-before-it-happens-lives-on-spoiler-forums girl is going cold turkey. I'm breaking the habit, and hence, I know virtually nothing about this series short of what I learned last year before I made the choice.

Last year, I knew everything. Martha? Check. Rinos? Check. The entire plot of the first three episodes with production images? Check. This year, I know three things:

1.) Donna is coming back as the companion. Which is sweet, because I liked Donna. A lot of people said she was too shouty and annoying, but personally, I LOVED the shouty bits. They weren't annoying at all, and I thought that entire episode was brilliant. But then, I'm also a big Catherine Tate fan, so I might be a bit bias. It'll be nice to see her in something other than a wedding dress!

2.) At some point in the series, in some form or another, both Martha and Rose come back. This is pretty much as awesome as it gets since I think both of them are compete and utter win. The only thing that bothers me about this are the ship-wars that are sure to accompany this, but then, since I don't ship, I don't really care. I suppose you could say, if I ship anyone, that I ship "Doctor/Tardis" or something really random like that. Maybe "Sonic screwdriver/psychic paper" or something.

3.) Agatha Cristie, the Ood, and Rome. Ok, so that's like three things in one, but I really needed to make it three. I know that at some point they meet Agatha Cristie, the Ood come back, and they go to Rome. I don't know which episodes those are, or if they're in different episodes at all. Wouldn't that be interesting?

Doctor: Well Donna, we're in Rome, what do you think?

Donna: Oh Doctor, what is that horrible creature?!

Doctor: Oh my God, Donna, It's an Ood!

Donna: A what?

Doctor: An Ood!

Ood: Would you like a refreshment?

Doctor & Donna: AHHHHHHH!!!

Donna: Look, Doctor, is that Agatha Cristie?!

Doctor: Why, look it is! Agatha Cristie, in Rome, with the Ood!

Agatha Cristie: Hello, all.

Donna: Hello!

Ood: Would you like a drink?

Doctor: OOD!!!

Doctor, Donna, & Agatha Cristie: AHHHHHH!!!!!!

[End Episode]

Now that would be something. Like really, Russell T. Davies should so hire me to write episodes, I clearly have something here.

Anyway, that's about all I know about this series, which is really cool, since last series I knew like everything. I would, however, like to know what on Earth is going on here:

Is he possessed again? Did he spontaneously decide to take up smoking? I mean, we get a great view of the Doctor's eyes here (which, I can't complain about =D) but they look fairly sketchy and wide, like he's either scared or going insane. Maybe he's absorbed some kind of evil alien intelligence? Or maybe he's expelling radiation again, like in Smith and Jones but through his mouth instead of his shoe.

We may never know.

Anyway, so that's my exciting news of the moment. That and I got a job. At a Hardware Store. Woot. Just what I've always dreamed.

"So if you ever see a little blue box, flying up there in the sky, oh you just shout for me, Gramps, just shout."

I cannot wait :D

Cheers all,

*Nelly*

The Terror of the Black Box

Fear in an interesting thing. We all have our own fears, whether it's spiders, lightning, heights, that creaky floor board on the inside of the dark barn in your backyard. There's always something, even if we consider ourselves to be the bravest person in existence, something will inevitably scare us.

What's exceptionally interesting about this is that, at the moment, what's scaring me the most is what generally sooths me. Theater.

I'm presenting a monologue in my theater class tomorrow morning. It's the longest one in the history of monologues, at four and a half pages long and a thirteen to fourteen minute performance time, depending on the delivery of the actor. It's an amazing piece, a very simple story of two friends about to be split up, but it's powerful. It's a story that needs to be told, in it's entirety, leading me and the director to the somewhat scary decision of not cutting any of it. Meaning I've just had to memorize four and a half straight pages of dialogue.

It's not...well, I shouldn't say that. The memorization did scare me, I'm not going to lie, it terrified me when it was first given to me. Today I had a near nervous breakdown just trying to learn my lines, because not only do I have to perform it tomorrow, I have to perform it first. Luck of the draw decides who goes when, and luck clearly wasn't with me yesterday when I drew my card. It probably didn't want to be with me, it gets a bit boring watching me learn lines, I'd imagine, all I really do is sit there and repeat the same sentence over and over again. It probably lost interest and left.

What really scares me though, what completely and utterly frightens me is the story. It's not a scary story, it's just such an important story that it needs to be told right. I need to do this story justice, it feels like I'd be letting the character down or something if I don't. What if I got so fixated on trying to learn it, trying to memorize it down to the last word, that I completely forgot the point of it. What if I get nervous? What if I freeze up? What if I do end up suffering that nervous breakdown before tomorrow and it never gets told to begin with.

The story of the monologue stays silent till someone who can actually handle it can tell it.

I'm so scared right now, of walking into that black box tomorrow. I'm terrified of forgetting, terrified of blanking out, terrified of not getting to the end. It's that fear you get right before you go onstage, that little nagging fear in the back of your mind as you're standing in the curtains, but magnified.

I've been rehearsing this for a week now. Every night. I'm about to do it again. I'm just...I'm scared. I'm so scared of this monologue, but I know I have to overcome it. I can't go onstage in a panic. The character's not in a panic. I can't be scared.

But I am.

*Nelly*

Frankenstein Essay

Frankenstein and His Monster
An Essay by Nelly Nickerson

Victor and the monster are a lot alike. They are alike for a lot of reasons. There are multiple reasons for the fact that Victor and his monster, which to point out to the oblivious, he did in fact create himself, are a lot alike. Their many, many similarities are not particularly apparent when trying to look at them, apparently, and it requires a bit more observation to figure the two of them out. Could it be like the relationship between a father and a son, or is it something more? Is it perhaps the relationship between a God and his worshiper, or God and his Satan? Does God even have a Satan? And if he does, does that mean the monster should have one too? What is the cause of all this injustice? This essay will, maybe, be explaining that.

Because most essays require more than one paragraph, this essay will in fact have two paragraphs. However, the paragraph in question has yet to be written, since the author has just gotten back from a very long, very harrowing rehearsal, preceded by a rather uneventful, though equally harrowing strike, all while becoming increasingly ill, as her sister has given her the cold from hell. Which leads me back to the Frankenstein’s monster/Satan argument that would have been discussed in this paragraph, had this paragraph actually been written. However, because this paragraph was, as previously stated, not in fact written, the argument will not be discussed at this time.

Victor is a man. He’s a scientific man. He’s a scientific man who took things a bit too far when he decided to cut up a few dead bodies and bring them back to life. Ew. He likes to make big, long speeches about how his new creation is going to worship him as a God, then cower in fear when things get in his way. He also likes pina cooladas, and long walks along dark, gothic castles in Switzerland. He’s single, although is technically in a committed relationship with his semi/half/adopted cousin Elizabeth who will, conveniently, be brutally murdered on their wedding night, leaving any lucky single lady the perfect opportunity to snatch him up for themselves. Want him? You can view his profile at www.madscientistsingles.com.

On the 15^th of May, in the Alps of Nool, in the cool of the day, in the ice of the pool, he was splashing, enjoying the Alps’ great joys, when Frankenstein’s monster heard a small noise. So, the creature stopped splashing, he looked towards the sound.

“That’s funny,” thought the creature, “There’s no one around,” Then he heard it again, just a very faint breath, as if some angry mob were calling for death.

“I’ll help you,” said the creature, “but who are you, and where?” He looked and he looked, he could see nothing there. But a small angry mob screaming loudly through the air. “I say,” said the creature, “I’ve never heard tell, of a small angry mob that was able to yell. I’ll just have to save them, because after all, a person’s a person, no matter how small.” So gently, and using the greatest of care, the creature thrust his great arm through the air, and he lifted the mob, and carried them over, and placed them down, safe, on a poisonous clover. Oops. Angry mob = dead. Which isn’t good, children, it isn’t good at all.

In conclusion, Victor and the monster are a lot alike. This is because this essay lacks a second paragraph in it’s present state, because Victor lacks a girlfriend in his present state, and because rehearsing Dr. Seuss for theater class for 5 hours straight is generally not a good thing to do before writing an essay. It proves that Victor is a loser, and desperately needs a hobby, as well as proving that the monster is actually an elephant, and that the author needs to stop looking at the solar eclipse and get some sleep before she falls horribly ill and can’t actually perform her piece for theater. Victor and his monster, they’re real similar, don’t you know.

Keep in mind that this is, of course, a draft. I was trying to memorize the entirety of "Horton Hears a Who" for Theater Class while I was doing this, and I also wrote it the night of the solar eclipse. I'm now off to write the real one.

Wish me luck,

*Nelly*