What Doctor Who Has Taught Me

So - I missed two blog posts. Yeah. *hangs head in shame* And with all the new lovely followers. On the subject of followers, new and old: guys, don't be shy, comments are one of my favourite things in the world. If any of you have something to say on the subjects of which I speak, I wanna know what you're thinking. Sometimes it feels like just me and Lostariel, lol. It's okay, though, I'm not pressuring anyone. It's all good! Really, it is.

What have I been doing? Well, on Wednesday, I started a blog post really late at night, but I made the mistake of starting to write about the Doctor Who episode "The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit" at midnight. I hate to admit it, but I just creeped myself out, so I went to bed. And then on Friday, I was in Seattle with my dad. We went on a road trip.

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'Kay.

All rise for the subject of today's post.

Worth. Doctor Who, if it's taught me one thing, has taught me this.

Worth.

See, the theme of Doctor Who is this. No matter where you're from, no matter who you are, no matter how broken or average or useless or mean or ugly, you mean something, you are special, and you could save the world.

Ugh, there are so many thoughts crowding in my head, I can't think. The thing is, Doctor Who is a light. It's secular, it slips in its dirty jokes and its moralism, but in the end, Doctor Who has important messages and even more important themes running subconsciously through it.

Yes, totally subconsciously. It is impossible to believe in evolution and carry that worldview all the way through - it is. See, the Doctor claims to believe in evolution. But then he is a completely contradictory character: if evolution is true, then survival of the fittest is also a truth, and what is the Doctor doing saving people, defending the earth when it's too weak to defend itself? The Doctor is practicing something that stems from God and God alone: he is self-sacrificing, giving of himself to save weak human beings (when he is clearly part of a superior race). You can't deny that the Doctor lives out a worldview different than the one he claims. Not just different: directly opposed. There is no way a consistent believer in evolution could look at a little chid with dyslexia, and, instead of writing him off as a deficient quirk of nature when the kid admits this problem, bend down to his level, and say warmly, "Oh, that's okay, I can't make a decent meringue."

And in living this out, the Doctor has taught me worth.

That people are worth it, and that the monsters are worth it.

D'you ever just see someone - someone who's just doing nothing, not impacting anything in any visible way, sitting on their couch, doing their routine - and do you ever just feel contempt for them? Like they're not worth it? Like, "So, what are you doing for the world?" Of course, it's silly, because really, what difference am I making right now? But that was me - and is me. I tell you, though, it got so much less when the Doctor took my hand and showed me. Showed me that a temp worker can be the most important woman in the universe, that a medical student can rock the cosmos, that an unemployed teenager can make all the difference in the world.

"You don't have to own the universe, just see it."

The Doctor showed me, with that line, and with his life, that it's nice to be big and grand, but you don't have to own the universe. You can just be a normal person, just seeing it. That the "just seeing it" people are impacting things in their own way. That they're all made in the same image, and that is a Holy image.

"You and I both know, don't we Rose - the Doctor is worth the monsters."

Yes, he is, a thousand times, and so is life. Life is worth the monsters. And so we see written in the Bible. Romans 8:18 says "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us." The darkness, it doesn't last, and it's pushing through it, resisting it, that brings the reward.

So, yes, that's what God has shown me through Doctor Who.

Sexism

No one can accuse me of being a girly-girl. I'm planning on getting the terrible pink of my walls covered in a nice coat of dark blue. My favourite show consists of a lot of blowing up stuff and food for the mind between alien attacks. Look at my name! I've only met one other girl "Micah". My hair is as short as a guy's, and I admit to getting excited over a Starwars Ultimate Guide today. I'm ambitious, and I don't think about anything in life being harder for me because I'm a girl - in fact, I absolutely hate it when people say girls are worse at something than boys, if the thing in question isn't physical.
Yeah, but.

France, 1789. A war is raging, ripping a country apart. The blood-soaked people fight under a banner  that bears an inspiring trio of words: "Liberty, equality, fraternity". But the people's push for that equality is tragic - thousands of innocents are slaughtered in the lust for it.
What are we losing in our grasp at equality?

Women aren't treated very well, are they? Anywhere. In the East you have them ground underfoot, in the West, you have them smudged out of existence.
No, seriously.
Chances to express ourselves, write, make art, discover math and science, to love, to make changes to the world, and to serve our God in huge ways - fantastic. Right, I love that.
Abandoning motherhood, starving our bodies into shapes as closely resembling men as possible - armed with disrespect, disregarding the knights who come to rescue us, because we're too in love with the tower. Laughing in the face of what chivalry they still offer.

All in the pursuit of equality.

Equality isn't sameness.

The culture is pushing women out of the mould they've always been in. Well and good? No. No, not really. Not at all, actually. Okay, I don't care if you like skateboarding and you're a girl. I don't care if you like to paint and you're a boy. It doesn't matter. But I do care if the women are leading their families. If they're not submitting to their husbands. If they're taking off and leaving their children to be raised by schools and daycares. If they're killing their babies - before and after the children are conceived - 'cause they want lifestyle.

Yeah, I'm for women's rights. Define women's rights. I want girls who can be girls, and not copies of men.

What about men? This makes me even angrier, believe it or not. Men are weakening. They can't lead anymore. They're not where they were meant to be. There are lovely guys who still do their part, but notice the trend, especially in television, where the weak, passive father is ruled by the disrespectful mother. And anything else is called sexism. Men don't even treat themselves right.

It makes me want to cry - so, girls have to be men and men have to be nothing, and that's the only thing that can be, because anything else isn't equality?
Misunderstanding of the word 'equality'.

I, for one, want a leader. I want to be a helper. I was made to be a helper. That doesn't mean I can't have dreams. But I was born a girl, and I want to be one.


{I do, of course, generalise. There are many exceptions, good and bad, to all stereotypes mentioned here.}

Happy For Deep People

Short, abrupt post ahead. You have been warned.

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"What's so good about sad?" "It's happy ... for deep people."

That's a hard quote to use. Because it goes, "Hey, guys, guess what, I'm deep!" But doesn't everyone have a grain of deepness? Somewhere? Isn't it a human trait? Doesn't everyone have a moment when they  hear a poem, read a book, watch a movie, or listen to a song, and suddenly see another world?
Almost touch something outside of themselves?

Most people, I think.

We go to see tragedies, and we shiver while Hamlet battles himself - Shakespeare still sells.
We listen to that song that drips with nostalgia - and again. And again.
We list "The Old Man and the Sea" as a masterpiece, and would secretly never get Hemingway to change the way he wrote it, even though it breaks our hearts.
And we re-watch The Reichenbach Fall.

What is that? What makes us find that vein of gold in the rock of old, sad things?

Really - I don't know.

My train of thought apparently falls off its rails before it even reaches the signpost that says "Profundity station: 100 miles", but what can I say? It's my last school-haunted Monday night of the year and my brain is a little bit fried. I have some deadlines to make and some books to read. Thanks for stopping by, though!

Hey, and could you tell me: what, actually, do you like me to post about? Because I look at the hits I get on various blog posts, and, for the life of me, I can't figure out the connection between the highest ones. Seriously, just tell me, I don't care what you say. I'm here for my readers, right?

Thanks again!

Exam Essay

Here's a little something I wrote for a question on my exam study guide. Don't worry, I didn't actually turn it in - the question I'm answering didn't end up being on the actual test.

What WAS the question? It had to do with the inventor of Communism, the writer of "Pilgrim's Progress", and this French thinker who had some strong ideas about how people should interact with government. And it also had to do with all these guys discussing the US Constitution over lunch.

The "over lunch" bit was the bit that stuck with me.

-This is pure(ish) parody. No disrespect was aimed at any of the historical characters involved, and the changes that they brought about in history are held with due regard.

-The author does not like Twilight. No french fries (or chips) were harmed in the making of this essay.

-I have no idea what I'm doing. I just wrote this. I'll probably hate it later.

The debate is heated: three amazing philosophical minds bump against one another, fighting fanatically, each advocating their position with fire. They sit in McDonald's, burgers long since finished. Karl is in the swivelly chair, kicking the outdated Hamburgler cartoon on the wall when his turns reach the point of stoppage furthermost to the right.

It takes a great stretch of time, in which the set of children playing in the PlayPlace changes at least thrice, but John wins the other two over eventually. Karl and J.J. sit defeated - Bella does, in the end, belong with Jacob.

Trying to pick up the ruined pieces of  his worldview, J.J. changes the subject.

“Another Coke, anyone?” He says weakly.

“Indeed,” John says. “I am parched. But no need to trouble yourselves: I shall pay.” He takes out his wallet, and something falls out. He doesn't seem to notice, intent as he is upon the McDonald’s Coke machine, and heads off before either man sitting at the table can alert him to the fallen slip of paper.

J.J. picks it up and unfolds it. In swirling italics along the top, the words “The United States Constitution” are printed.

He reads interestedly, but his expression grows sour and he puts down the paper.

“Well,” he says, “Frankly, I am a bit disgusted.”

Karl picks it up. “Why?”

“Well,” J.J. says, “The citizens are in a position where they do not gather to rule themselves. The government has its hands in most everything that the general public should be controlling.”

“Really?” Karl says absently, buried in the crinkled yellow paper.

“Really,” J.J. says, as if he himself is just coming around to the fact that he is not making this up. “There is overmuch room for private business. The General Will is merely represented. Representatives this, representatives that. It is not the general will anymore. It has become something else. It is England all over again: I weep for this system. Have they not read my writings? Why does no one ever read my writings? They are only as free as their bloody representatives deign to make them!” He knocks over a paper ketchup cup with a french fry, his hands are trembling so. “And that is no freedom! It is a shell! It is a void! The people go about their daily business and are completely uninvolved in their government. They only meet in forums to discuss entertainment! They do not even meet in these forums! They simply stay inside and meet through magic! I weep! I weep.” He puts his head in his hands.

Karl chews a chicken finger thoughtfully. “Sorry, old chap?” he says, looking up from the Constitution finally.

“The government is not run by the General Will,” J.J. wails. “The people are not half as involved in it as they should be.”

“My dear fellow,” Karl says, almost breaking the fourth wall with his Britshness (he is, after all, German). “You have it completely backwards. Don’t you see - with a larger amount of government control, most of this hassle, hustle and bustle would be taken out of the country? Things could be completely fair, shared equally among the people. That, my friend, is the only way to run a peaceful nation.”

“That would never work.” A vein begins to throb in J.J.’s temple. “It would suppress the General Will.”

“Is the General Will even good for the people?” Karl says. “I think not. Do you not realize that the government knows the best?”

J.J. is struck speechless. “What?” He eventually says, through his speechlessness.

“The government,” Karl says, cool as a submarine in arctic waters, “Knows better than the people. People are unruly. People do not know what is best for themselves.”

“You know nothing!” J.J. says, standing up, now. “How can you be so deceived?”

John comes up with a tray of drinks. “Are you two alright?” He says.

“Tell this imbecile that something is wrong with this document,” J.J. says, handing the Constitution to John and indicating Karl.

Karl studies his nails, quite at ease. “I think you will find the imbecile is Jean-Jaques here,” he says.

John looks concerned, and looks the document over. Karl and J.J. stare each other down, sipping their soda pops without breaking the gaze.

“Yes,” John says, after a long and simmering pause. “There is something quite wrong here.”

Karl and J.J. begin chewing their straws with impatience.

“This is not the document I meant to get,” John says. “I was meant to receive a theological study on 21st century issues.” He looks up, not registering the frustration on Karl and J.J.’s faces. “The time traveller that gave me access to his library swimming pool must have mixed up the files, or my name isn’t John Bunyan.”

Ambition: Healthy and Un-

So, today as I was watching Doctor Who confidential, I experienced this terrible wave of envy. It was a scene showing Steven Moffat narrating the episode script for "The Eleventh Hour". It was filming the read-through table he was at (with Matt, Karen, and a bunch of actors), and then cutting to the actual episode, where his words sprang to life on screen.
And I thought, "Steven Moffat, I should like to be you."

It's actually a little bit creepy, because I'm pretty sure the Pottermore sorting hat never asked me anything about ambition. And yet, it saw that Slytherin streak in me, that is apparently pretty strong. That streak that is good, when it drives me to write and to log off the internet more often (haha... yeah, right) but that kills when I don't give it up to God.

Really, having people blogging and Tumbling about how much they hate me would be just my cup of tea. It would be love. It'd mean that I'd done something with storytelling. But when I latch on to that good drive - the drive to reach people's hearts with stories - and hold it too tight, it really becomes poison.

Moralistic happy time! Gather 'round, children, pull up an animal puzzle foamy mat! Trust in God and He'll give you everything you could dream of! He'll make it easy and safe! Keep smiling, and if things don't go exactly to your plan, that's because you're a BAD CHRISTIAN and you're DOING something WRONG.

No. Seriously, no. That would only be worse. It'd be leading and letting God do the work rather than letting God lead and doing the work He directs. Not that He doesn't help us, but His aim is His Glory and not ours.
And so the dreams wouldn't come through.

But if God wants people organizing raiding parties to hunt me down, because I've touched and kind of torn apart their hearts with a story, then you bet they will, no matter what the odds are.

And if He doesn't, then who cares?
I think I'd rather be on His team. He's the scriptwriter, in the end.

~

So I hope this whole thing didn't feel like an episode of "Moralistic Happy Time", lol.