I'm a Whovian.

There I've said it. I've been force feed Doctor Who since before I could speak and it has been a part of my life since my first memory. Having a brother 5 years older who grew up a Dr Who nut tends to help, but it is in my genes. I love Dr Who. That said, I can now move on...

I REALLY wanted to love the last episode of David Tennant's time as The Doctor. In the end it left me feeling "Meh". This is all I'll say, as I hate people who spoil stuff and I don't want to be one of those. There is some fantastic, heart-wrenching acting in there, and Bernard Cribbins is amazing, but in the end I wish it had been about 10 minutes shorter. Sorry.

First off, I take anti-depressants. Or rather, I SHOULD take anti-depressants, but I keep forgetting. Generally I'll get to the end of a pack and then I'll forget to drop in the request for a repeat prescription to my doctor, or I'll put it off for some reason. Whether this is down to some deep seated self destructive behaviour or just general lazyness on my part hasn't been confirmed yet, but the upshot is that I haven't had any anti-mad drugs for about a month.

In other words, I've come off them cold turkey, and it hasn't been entirely pleasant.

However, I started to go back on them a few days ago. Now, I have felt calmer and more focused in the past couple of weeks but felt like I ought to be on the meds, so taking them again would be a good idea. So far it hasn't been. I now feel angry at everything, tense and agressive. I don't like it and there's no reason for it, other than going back on the drugs. They didn't effect me like this when I first started taking them, but I starting to think that maybe that was when I REALLY needed them.

I have always viewed my medication as a kind of crutch. When you break your leg, you use a crutch while the leg heals, but eventually you need to stop using the crutch and do some physio to build up the leg again, otherwise you become reliant on the crutch. I think my "leg" is finally healed enough that the crutch is doing more harm than good. Time to put the drugs away, I feel.

P.

One thing about me is I get stupid ideas which quite obsess me from time to time. My current one is that I'm obsessing about doing cosplay as "The Question". For those who don't know he's a noir themed detective in DC Comics who doesn't have a face (as in no features, not skinned!).

I reckon with a flesh colourd zentai hood and wig this costume could be pulled off pretty well, and I love the idea of posing for photos (I'm a bit of a peacock and dandy at heart).

My biggest downfall (as with most of these fancies) is that I'm a fat bloke. This generally means I'd look bad, as do most fat people who try cosplay or fancy dress.

So, do I try and pull together a costume and do it anyway, generally becoming a parody of the character I love or do I finally choose to do something about my weight for the sake of my silly obsessions (and health)?

Hmmm... time to stop stealing my daughter's chocolate I think.

P.
x