I just have all these feelings

One of my coworkers and I have an ongoing (friendly) debate about Doctor Who. I have confessed that I stopped watching after the Pandorica arc with Matt Smith. “But why?” she wanted to know. “It was a good ending point,” I said. “I liked that season.”

This seems inconceivable to her. She asked if I’m planning to watch Peter Capaldi’s season(s). (Probably not.) “I like fandom,” I said. “But the show makes me sad. I just want them all to be okay.”

She said, “That’s not life.” And at the time, I said, “I know, but I live life, and I want my entertainment to be different.” But actually, I think I was wrong. And I think maybe she was wrong too.

Because I want stories about people in Cardiff who got dumped by the Rift and freaked out, but then one day their bank was giving out free donuts, and that was actually kind of great. And stories about people who met the Doctor and never told anyone, but six months later they saw a butterfly and it made them smile instead of cry, and that felt good. And stories about people who get nervous in libraries, or in the dark, or when it’s quiet, and they don’t like thinking about why, but they still sing in the car on the way to work, and sometimes all the lights are green, and you know what? It turns out they’re pretty okay.

And I think that’s life too.

Mirrored from The Marci Rating System.