Lost and Doctor Who: A Comparative Essay

8 03 2013

Because there is so much going on in my actual life and my emotional health (I’m way less emo, you guys), but I can’t seem to find the time – well, actually, the energy – to write about it. So let’s nerd out instead, mkay?

Season 5 of Lost is eerily relevant to Doctor Who. I’m sure a lot of that is the whole time travel thing. Certain plot lines, complications, and literary devices are particularly inclined to time travel stories. And, of course, both shows contain intricately-developed characters which lends itself to having similarities in that aspect, too. But what these two ingredients amount to is an insane overuse of caps lock by yours truly. Let’s examine this.

Earlier in the season we have Some Like it Hoth/Father’s Day in which Miles = Rose and we have the emotionalness of going back in time to meet your dead father for the first time in your memory. And also meeting your baby self. But in only one of these stories does the TARDIS stop working and weird gargoyley-buggish things come to “clean the wound”. In Lost there are pretty much no physical ramifications of messing around with time. Except possibly getting shot by your mother while she’s still pregnant with you. But I mean “physical” in the sense of the universe, not individual people.

And, of course, there are characters that exhibit similar traits. For instance Locke (whose name I just typed as “Jocke” which will become funny to you in a minute) has, from day one, taken it upon himself to imagine he knows what’s best for people, without actually considering or listening to their personal opinions. For instance, early in the show Locke sent Boone on a trippy trip by dosing him with hallucinogenic… plants or some shit with the goal of helping Boone… like… see his point of view or something? Most people choose to do such things using archaic tactics such as “having a conversation”. But Locke is highly evolved. Or an asshole. Hard to say.

The Doctor tends to do this sort of thing, too. While I think the Doctor is slightly more justified than Locke since he’s usually operating on limited time and generally acts to save lives rather than to just give people island-made LSD, I also think he’s generally wrong for assuming he always knows best. I haven’t forgiven him for, among other things, what he did to Donna. When we meet Donna she’s fairly aimless. She’s rooted in the world. She senses that there is more out there, but she isn’t able to figure out how to reach for that so she flounders in her life, never really going anywhere. Just waiting. And then she meets the Doctor and travels with him and finds her path. She becomes this wild, wise, strong goddess. And then the Doctor takes all that away from her. He thinks that living a vapid life is better than death for her. In reality what he fears (beyond merely adding another loved one’s demise to his conscience) is his own death. Despite her begging him not to send her back to empty ignorance, he does what his own fears tell him is best and erases all her wisdom and knowledge.

At this point in Lost, Jack “Emo Jack” Shepherd has evolved as a character from the Man of Science who worked against Locke. He’s now reached the point in his personal growth where he becomes Locke’s disciple and is acting now entirely on Faith. Hence “Jocke” giving me the giggles. You, too? No? *ahem*

Jack is following through on Daniel’s plan to reset time back to before Flight 815 crashed. Before Charlie got clean and fell in love with Claire. Before Claire got to meet her baby and decide to keep him. Before Desmond found Penny again. Before Sawyer found peace (um, through, you know, murder). Before Eko found his brother. Before Shannon found… sunscreen? Before Kate didn’t change or grow even one little bit. Sorry. I got nothing there. Every single person was effected massively by that plane crash (excepting, of course, Kate). Every single one of them made some emotional growth. And Jack wants to undo all that in the name of “saving” them. Define “save”. Because, honestly, River being locked up in some computer FOR FUCKING EVER AND EVER AND EVER WITH NO END EVER EVER is not my idea of being saved. And taking away all my emotional growth that I worked really fucking hard for? Also not my idea of being saved.

I just got a little verklempt. The Cleveland National Forest is neither in Cleveland nor is it a forest. Talk amongst yourselves. Also: Buttah.

You’re lucky I steered away from that Dumbledore reference earlier. This post is positively swampy with the fandoms.

Arguing against Emo Jack we have Sawyer trying to explain that Flight 815 was a fixed point in time and shouldn’t be changed. He’d considered the idea of going back to change his own history. To save his mother and father. Just as the Doctor talks about wanting to save his family, his species, his planet. But there is always a consequence. Loss of wisdom, imbalance in time, a Universe ruled by Daleks. The wisdom is to know which is the righter answer. And that doesn’t come easily nor without consequences of its own. Pain, guilt, self-hate.

At some point, though, the reason for which I may have missed because I was busy tweeting all this in caps lock, Sawyer jumps on the Jocke wagon. So they scamper off to detonate the bomb that will reboot the Universe. I mean. The bomb to try turning it off and on again. I mean. The bomb that will create The Incident which will (no it won’t) cause the Dharma people to never build the Hatch (they totally will) so Desmond won’t ever crash the plane (he still does). What seems futile (because, for their goal, it actually was) does, in fact, get them back to present day with smart phones and Google, so it’s not a total loss. Except that Sawyer doesn’t suddenly have parents and he can’t just remember Juliet back into existence (the plus side, of course, being that she never becomes a plastic Auton with guns for hands). Otherwise it’s pretty much exactly the same.

So I don’t know if it’s just that I’m too wrapped up in fantasy worlds, or if this is the Truth of Literature (where Literature = television), but this seems, as I said above, eerily relevant. I don’t think the writers were specifically inspired by/plagiarizing each other, I guess I feel it’s just the magic of story. But dear god how I love the magic of story. And being nerdy. Being nerdy is great fun.


And then I made a costume.

30 10 2012

there are weeping angels in balboa park, you guys

My grandmother was a second mom to me, and since she was quite the seamstress, I grew up around sewing machines. I knew the basics of how to start and stop. I’d seen her cut out countless patterns over my lifetime. I even know how to go look up a pattern and then pull it from the drawer (by taking a big, long, sniff of the drawer. I love sniffing books, but there’s nothing quite like a pattern drawer. Mmmm). I’d even sewed Margie a dress when she was about 18 months old. But my sewing machine had started missing stitches and I didn’t have the money for a tuneup so I let it gather dust in my closet.

And at some point I lost my confidence. I think it might have something to do with knitting. As I got more experienced in that skill, I saw how much work it took to learn new things and to be good at them. It was overwhelming to have to start at the beginning again (essentially) with a different craft.

And then I inherited like four more sewing machines.

So, with a newly tuned up old machine, I decided I’d try my hand at making Elliott’s Halloween costume. He wanted to be a Weeping Angel and at first I was all OH HELL NO, because I’d seen this tutorial and got really insecure. But I took a deep breath and realized it was quite simple, actually. A kid’s Halloween costume doesn’t have to be as complex as an adult cosplayer’s. (And if he chooses to wear this at Gallifrey One next winter, I’m adding a sign that says it’s the first thing I ever sewed. Then it will look AMAZING in context.)

So anyway. I asked on Facebook for ideas in making the costume. I thought I’d buy a pattern for a simple dress, but my friend Mariah (who makes delicious allergy friendly candy) was all, “Nah, for a tunic you don’t need a pattern.” So I started doing that thing where I think I know what I’m doing when I really don’t. Just to be responsible, I did look for a pattern at JoAnn’s, but they didn’t have anything in Elliott’s size. Basically, it’s like JoAnn’s was egging me on.

I did not take in-process shots because I didn’t want step-by-step close-up shots of my failures. But here’s what I did. I looked up tunic how-to’s and followed this one. Sort of. I decided I didn’t like they way they folded it. I did some sort of crazy math in my head and decided they were wrong, so I folded it the other way. Long way first. I think. Luckily for me, this isn’t a tutorial. It’s just a blog post. FOLLOW ME NOT, INTERWEBZ.

I grabbed one of the t-shirts Elliott wears for pajamas and folded it, laid it on the folded fabric and lightly traced an outline for the dress. I made it even bigger than necessary because I knew I’d want it drapey and loose. I did not trace the sleeves. Weeping Angels just say no to sleeves. The better to grab you and send you back in time to let you live to death. Or something.

And then I got ready to sew.

So I fixed a broken needle.

And I threaded the machine.

And I tried to load the bobbin, but nothing happened.

When you inherit a machine that’s 30 years old, it usually doesn’t come with the manual. Luckily for you, the Internet has your back and has it loaded somewhere online. In fact, that’s how you learned to change the broken needle and thread the machine. But it was entirely unhelpful when you couldn’t figure out why nothing was happening when you followed the directions to load the bobbin. So you call your aunt (the machine belonged to her mother, after all, it’s her responsibility) and she comes over and adds some WD-40 and BOOM. Bobbin loaded. You are quite pleased with yourself, even though it was technically your aunt that fixed it.

And then I sewed it. And you know what? It WORKED. I even made some of the seam look relatively straightish. If you just look at this small section.

That seam is relatively kind of straightish. Go me!

This is the sort of thing that makes me cocky. I have essentially no sewing experience but I decide to just make up a pattern one day and it works just fine. Next thing you know, I’m going to think I can sew an orca and it will take me YEARS.

My plan for the hat was similar. In that I had no plan. I also did not have a child at home that weekend to try the hat on so I had to guess. Luckily my kids have big heads and mine is small. So we pretty much have the same size head. I cast on and knit a couple of rows 1×1 ribbing so it wouldn’t roll, and then I switched to knitting two rows, followed by purling one row. I made sure to make a line of purl stitches going up the front to act as a part in the hair. Once the hat was complete, I took the rest of the yarn and braided it, sewed the braid into a bun and stitched it onto the back of the hat. BOOM. Hat-wig-thing.

The wings were a little harder in theory because I wasn’t sure where to start. For one thing when we cleaned out my mom’s house last year, I threw away all the wire hangers. So I looked for wings that had the right general shape, but was mostly not finding anything remotely Weeping Angelish. Until I went to Michael’s for felt. They had a pair of perfectly-shaped angel wings ON CLEARANCE. Because The Universe was trying to be a sewing enabler by making this project easy.


So I bought them and all the gray felt that was on the shelf. I cut the shelf to the shape of the wings and used my cordless cold heat glue gun (they DO exist!) to glue them on. That’s easier said than done. When you are gluing large things, the first glue dries before you get to put it all together. So I learned quickly to do it little by little. And then I spent the next several hours cutting out feathers. I even took some to knitting group to work on last week (we don’t discriminate against non-knitting projects). Only I forgot my big, sexy fabric scissors and it turns out that using little clippers to do serious cutting is quite painful on the knuckles. But what’s a little crafting without bone bruises? WIMP CRAFTING. That’s what.

And then we put it all together. No bad, actually. I took the kids to Balboa Park over the weekend and impressed a lot of people with the homemade costume. Yay me!

Next I think I’m going to go sew some pillow cases or, if I get ambitious, pajama pants.

And then I went to Comic Con all of a sudden.

16 07 2012

view from across the street

I’ve been to Comic Con before, but the last time was 10 years ago; that fabled time when it’s name was more accurate. I’m not a huge comic person – not because I think they aren’t worthwhile, but because they just aren’t my favorite way to experience a story – so it was fun, but not amazeballs. Over the years, I somehow wound up as babysitter while the then-husband went off every year and had fun. And that was pretty much fine. Until 2009 when they held the last Lost panel. That morning, as the ex was getting ready to go, I suddenly realized that the kids were really old enough that I could ditch them all day and go myself. But I didn’t. I can’t remember why. Maybe because I felt like it was shitty to find a last-minute babysitter, maybe because the Con was already sold out? Either way, I kicked myself. And each year after that, I watched more closely as more and more things I was interested in began to be represented there. I love reading Epbot to see all the Cons they go to; they’ve inspired me to try to be more active in that community. Of course, every year the Con got bigger as more things OTHER people were interested in also began to be represented. And now it’s pretty much impossible to buy tickets, the system is so convoluted and, honestly, not prepared for all the web traffic.

me! with a badge!

So I’ve mostly watched enviously from the sidelines, but this year I was pretty brokenhearted to miss it. So the kids and I decided we’d just go hang out in downtown and watch the people going to and from. There are always lots of Con-related events outside of the convention center, too. There was a Tumblr Doctor Who get together I hope to make next year, but this year we went to spend the day with Noah, celebrating his birthday. So we decided we’d go down on Sunday, the day of the Doctor Who panel, because even though it was unlikely that we’d meet Matt Smith so that I could sniff him, I figured there would be a lot of Doctor Who-related costumes and that would be fun.

convention center elevator

But! While we were driving home from Noah’s house that night I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize and decided to answer it (because, lord knows, it might have been the Today Show. Again). It was from a woman I didn’t even know* offering me one ticket to the Con. Immediately the wheels in my head started turning – who can I ditch my kids with tomorrow and would the kids kill me or not? – but then she added that kids were free so I was all, “HELLS YES, PLEASE!” And the kids were all, “WE’RE GOING TO COMIC CON? WE’RE GOING TO COMIC CON!”

margie opted out of her too-hot darth vader costume to wear my doctor shirt instead

Pretty much as soon as we got there, Margie dragged me over to the line for the Doctor Who panel. This was a good idea, it turns out. Cause we were close to the back of the line**, and weren’t even certain we’d get in. That’s the Comic Con Gamble, I guess. Wait for three hours (or more) and hope you get in.

captain jack

The ex had suggested we split the kids at some point to get some one-on-one time with each so I figured that three hours of line-waiting was probably too much for the little one, so he came to get Elliott and they wandered around together, while everyone complimented Elliott’s costume. E was sad to miss the panel, though, so I am a little bit of a Bad Mommy for orchestrating things that way.  *sigh*

In front of us in line were a couple of really cool women we talked to a little bit here and there, but behind us were a group of super-annoying guys. From what I could understand, the father didn’t realize his son was Canadian? It was bizarre. And they kept loudly talking about religion and politics and then saying they weren’t going to talk about religion and politics, but continuing to talk about religion and politics anyway. They happened to disagree with me politically, which isn’t normally a big deal, but they kept saying things like, “Americans hate France because it’s socialist and Americans hate socialism.” Which. Actually, the reason I hate France*** is because their food sucks. And also I hold a grudge for that extra day we were supposed to be in London, but got stuck in Paris the day it was closed (I’d link you, but I haven’t written that part of my Europe trip yet). Also, I kind of like socialism and happen to be American. But the most annoying thing they did was truly assholey. THEY CUT. IN. LINE. Every time the line moved forward, they tried pushing past us, but I was not letting that happen. Because! Justice! But then it happened anyway. And we bitched about it with the cool girls in front of us. I guess the moral of that story is the girls rule and boys drool?

and then we waited

So we sat in line**** wondering if we’d make it in. For three hours. And the internet was VERY BORING. Margie had her DSi, and I considered watching some TV on my phone, but I had this story in my head yelling at me, “Nooooo! Don’t use up your phone’s battery! Because if someone famous wants to put your son on his shoulders later you WILL REGRET IT.” So, despite the fact that I actually had two other cameras with me that day, I conserved my phone’s battery (and naturally did not see anyone famous. One way to always see famous people or ghosts is to never have working cameras with you). They made announcements saying the two panels ahead of ours in Hall H (Fringe, and Supernatural) were closed, but no one left the line. Because Doctor Who. Duh. And the the line began to move. And we all crossed our fingers. And a part of me knew we’d get in, because everything that had happened in the previous 18 hours seemed to be leading me there, but that part of me sure as hell wasn’t going to say that out loud even if I did have my wooden bracelet to knock on just in case. And then we got in! And we were all the way in the back. And by “in the back” I mean probably just 1,000 people behind us.

we were nowhere near this close

So, after a year, I finally got to sniff the Doctor (that link goes to a very embarrassingly emo post. Don’t read it). And even though there were 4,000-5,000 people in between us, I can say with certainty***** that he smells like…. air conditioning!

you can see the teeny heads there in the distance, between the giant sillhoutte-heads

This post is so long and I haven’t even gotten to the panel yet. Maybe I am wordy enough to write books?

Anyway, the panel was awesome. It was funny and exciting and we got to see exclusive clips which are, surprisingly, not yet on YouTube (nerds, you fail me. stop being so honorable). People and daleks and TARDISes (of a Californian sort?) asked questions.

this girl's costume was super cute

ACTUALLY, I have to stop you there for a second. The night before the official SDCC panel, they did a thing at Nerd HQ and broadcast it live online. And one of the questions they were asked there was how to pluralize TARDIS. When the cast didn’t have a very good answer the girls who asked it (who were all wearing very awesome TARDIS dresses) offered their (clearly correct suggestion) that it remain TARDIS because it’s an acronym. It would change to “Times and relative dimensions in space”. I LOVE GEEKS.

Anyway. It was amazeballs. I was so excited I was practically dancing in my chair. And then it was over and we headed out with a giant scary mob that was, honestly, claustrophobic. I generally handle crowds well. I don’t LOVE them – I always prefer empty spaces – but they don’t make me panicky or terribly upset. But that mob did. I held myself together just fine, but it tapped me out for the rest of the day and walking around the floor wasn’t nearly as fun as it would have been otherwise. Or if, you know, no one else was there. So we headed home, it was almost over anyway.

and then they made us all cross the line with our hands in the air like criminals for some reason

And I feel satisfied. I’ve been to Comic Con again. I’ve seen the Doctor Who panel, and I’ve been IN THE SAME ROOM AS THE DOCTOR. And now I think, for at least a few more years, I’ll be content to watch any future panels online rather than dealing with the hassle of trying to figure out how to buy tickets and then possibly getting stampeded after having paid money for the tickets. I totally want to go to smaller cons, though. There’s a Doctor Who one in February I’m seriously considering.

The way this whole thing came together was fairly divine. Got a call from a stranger offering me a ticket the very day of the one thing I REALLY wanted to see, the ability to go, the ability to make it in – and, I forgot to mention earlier, we found EXCELLENT parking *just* across the street for less than half of what I’d been told I’d have to pay. It felt like a gift from The Universe.

Of course, I woke up this morning with a head cold. But, still, we had a magical weekend.

You can see the whole set of pictures here at Flickr.

*Although I may have met her at park days before, I think she got my number from a mutual friend. This was legit, not some creepy scam.
**Because there were probably only 500 people in line behind us.
***I probably don’t ACTUALLY hate France. But I should probably go there once more. Just to make sure.
****You can tall I’m Californian because I say “in” line and not “on” line the way East Coasters do. I learned that from A Way With Words. #Smrt
*****Or with “certainty”.

I had this conversation with my kids today.

27 03 2012

Me: Hey, Margie! Elliott! Guess who I love!
Kids: Us!
Me: Oh. Well. Um. Yes! Of course. But I was going to say the Doctor.*
Margie: Mo-om.
Me: But you know I’d probably choose you over him.
Margie: Oh, mom! I love you!**
Me: Hey. I just said probably. Don’t get too excited yet.
Margie: “Probably” is pretty much “yes.”

*What? I’m a loving mom in all other scenarios.
**See? She understands what a complement that was.


3 02 2012


birthday mad tea party

On the morning of my birthday the kids and I woke up, got dressed, and went out for breakfast. Hit Starbucks (where they wrote me a little note on my lid), and then hopped onto the freeway and headed up to the Happiest Place on Earth. Birthdays are awesome. Disneyland is awesome. Birthdays at Disneyland are exactly what you’d expect: awesomer than I can describe.

I was prepared for the kids to be, well, kids. Tired and overexcited kids tend sometimes to be grumpy and cry-y kids. But the day went relatively smoothly with everyone in mostly good spirits.

pontoon bridge

The day was also full of firsts for both kids: first time on Pirates (Elliott), first successful time on Pirates (Margie), first time on Star Tours (Elliott), first successful time on Star Tours (Margie). We also got to check out Tom Sawyer’s Island (now inhabited by pirates) for the first time since the remodel. We were all new to Turtle Talk with Crush which I’d heard good things about and I was looking forward to and which totally lived up to the hype. The first person Crush wanted to talk with was Elliott and then he asked to talk to me. Margie didn’t seem to feel left out, but that’s probably because she got to battle Darth Vader earlier in the day (so did Elliott).

mark twain

The highlight of my day (aside from conversing with a cartoon, of course) happened as we were disembarking from Star Tours and starting our walk down the hallway to where we dispose of the glasses. The kids wanted to go again (and again and again) so I thought we’d swing around and grab another FastPass, but one of the Star Tours castmembers stopped us saying, “I reward people for wearing Doctor Who shirts. Wait here, we’ll get you on the next ride. Allons-y!” To which Elliott replied, “CYBERMAN! CYBERMAN!” (Which may also be French, what do I know?) The moral of the story is Always Wear a Doctor Who Shirt to Disneyland. Actually, I think that’s the moral to most stories.

better than cake: dole whip float

Originally I’d planned to bring our lunch with us to save some money, but then the eggs were being assholes in the morning and not peeling properly, and the dishwasher was all, “What? You WANT to do dishes on your birthday?” So I was like, “You know what, Dishwasher? You speak with wisdom beyond your years.” So the kids and I wandered into the new bakery at the end of Main Street and – surprise! – they had gluten free bread for their deli sandwiches! And for dinner we found a place in California Adventure that did gluten-free buns for hamburgers. And it was all delicious – even the food within Disneyland, which is impressive, since, in my experience, you must pay the big bucks for food that is adequate while within the confines of the original park. I love how Disneyland is so accommodating in regards to food allergies.

gluten free sandwich for lunch

And so, after a long day, we stumbled into our home at almost 10pm and crashed into bed. And it was a good birthday. And you know what? Im going back in two days. With grown-ups.

Thirty-Four is gonna be a good year. (KNOCK WOOD.)

Weird Hippie Food

21 01 2012

Between needing to avoid gluten and personally believing in a traditional-foods based diet, I am always on the lookout for weird hippie food. Food that’s stuffed with nutrition and low in sugar. I like to eat healthy, but I also like to eat deliciously. Recently I’ve tried a few new recipes I wanted to share with you.

It started with some almond flour muffins that Elliott really likes. It is so hard to make that child a muffin he likes that has some actual nutrition in it. So score for Elana’s Pantry. (FTR, I always sub agave for honey.)

Later in the week I decided I wanted to make some avocado-based chocolate mousse. I’ve heard of such a thing and had it in mind for a long time, but had never actually done it. Strangely, and probably because the world revolves around me*, the first entry when I Googled for a recipe was from a woman I’ve met at playgroups a few times, years ago. In her entry she suggests using it as a frosting so I totally whipped up another batch of muffins and frosted those bad boys.

weird hippie food

Actually, I only frosted this one because, in Margie’s words, “This mousse takes like your breakfast shakes.” With a very clear emphasis of distaste on the latter part of that sentence. Fine. More for me.

weird hippie food

And maybe I should say here that I’m really not very picky. (Except for seafood.) So I liked it, although I definitely think it’s not your average frosting. Maybe if it was a little sweeter. Or had no avocado. But then you can’t have green veggies** on your cake so it sort of defeats the hippie part.

Ever since joining Pinterest, I’ve been taunted with mug cakes. I don’t have a microwave so I thought I couldn’t play this game. But then, a few months ago, Sonja sent me a mug cake mix that totally said, “Hey, stupid, use your toaster oven.” Only maybe the package worded it a little more nicely. So I’ve spent the last weeks trying to find the perfect hippie gluten-free mug cake. And here it is. (Hint: It tastes best served with Doctor Who: Scene It, but you may skip that step.)

Happy Thing: Mug Cake & Scene It Doctor Who

Weird Hippie Gluten-Free Mug Cake

1Tbs Coconut Flour
2Tbs Cocoa Powder
4Tbs Sweetener (I use whatever mix of sugar, rapadura, or coconut sugar that I fancy at the moment. Sometimes I use less)
1Tbs Oil
3-4Tbs Milk (I use coconut or rice or whatever I have open)

Mix, bake at 350 for about 20-25 minutes. Done!

So, yeah. Who wants to come over and play Doctor Who: Scene It?

game pieces

*I have proof.
**If it’s green, it’s a veggie. Dammit.

Quilty. All the way.

14 12 2011

Name and explain the one guilty pleasure you can’t live without. ie: that cupcake shop you visit weekly, a book you repeatedly read to find solace in, etc). Then explore the idea of how you would feel if you gave that thing up for a year.Neha

I’m behind one or more days. I’m OK with that. This project is becoming somewhat frustrating for me because I feel like my writing is inadequate and I want to do better. So from here on out, I will probably just participate as I can rather than feel pressured to do so each day.

Because inadequate writing makes me feel guilty. And I realize I am taking the phrase “guilty pleasure” too literally, but that’s my brain’s fault. It’s hard for me to come up with guilty pleasures because my guilt is more about when I’m not performing at Life very well and less about Starbucks. It’s very hard to feel guilty when I’ve got a cup full of sugar and caffeine. Which, now that I type it out, makes me wonder if guilt: I’m doin’ it rong. Probably, yes. But when I’m not following a daily routine and being as perfect as I want to be (which, honestly, isn’t all that perfect), then I lie awake at night with anxiety about how much I suck.

So, taking a step out of my brain let’s try to just focus less on the guilt and more on the pleasure part, hrm?

Starbucks: Yes. For the better part of this year I enjoyed this pleasure a little too often. Because it was a hard damn year, and I realize you aren’t supposed to drown your sorrows in sugar but you know what? Fuck that shit. <–Wisdom. Even now, when I promised no froufrou drinks until next 7 Days, I have been having them maybe a couple of times a month and still not so guilty because what I’d hoped to accomplish was remembering that I love coffee even without the sugar, and also iced tea is the bomb. So, clearly, trying to live a year without Starbucks would be devastating if I can’t even handle three months. (First world version of “devastating” of course.)

Doctor Who: Again, not really guilty, although really quite embarrassed (still) of how tweenie I am over this show. Still, when I think of what I can’t live a year without, the Doctor is high on the list. If I’m going to be honest, he might even be above coffee. Wow. Now there’s a question I’ll have to waste way too much time picking apart – coffee or the Doctor?

Zuma Blitz: I’ve been playing PopCap games for like 10 years now and Zuma’s always been a favorite. And here’s the thing: Have you met Idris? She’s my new computer.

Whoa. A picture of me writing this very post. Meta.

She’s so pretty and when I turn her on, she’s just… on. I don’t have to wait ten minutes or 30 for her to wake up (my old computer woke up just about the same way I do). And I don’t know if it’s because she’s a Mac or because she’s new or both, but now I can actually play Zuma Blitz again without it freezing up on me. It’s amazing how easy it is to play a game when the computer works well; I actually get respectable scores now. In fact, now that I think about it, I think I can feel a new guilty pleasure creeping up: That Sims3 game I got for my 32nd birthday that I was never able to use on my old stone age computer. But how do I feel about going a year without Zuma Blitz? Pretty OK, actually. It’s not quite up there with coffee.

You know what I do feel guilty about, though? The fact that I always want to type “quilty” instead of “guilty.” I may be turning 34 in less than two months (not that I counting days or anything. 50 days.) but I still get my g’s and q’s mixed up. Thank god I’m so cute.