I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

Where do I find myself, now?

A long-term existence of constant pain and loss and upheaval..well, it's like when I was working 7 days a week, for weeks on end--you get into the groove, this mindset. You just keep going, don't you? Or in my case, I nearly stopped. Forever. But that's past me, now, I believe.

And here I am. I have an office job. Enough money to pay the household bills and rent--and for food. No more peanut butter on a spoon (and just for the record, I HATE peanut butter), and tinned peaches and cold cereal and boxed macaroni with ersatz powdered cheese. I've got the New Doctor Who on video, the cats are happy...why aren't I?

What's wrong with me, lately?

It's like my life has just...stopped. Stood still, stuck in a void, and limbo of maddening munndaneness.

I feel, so empty, and I couldn't begin to say why.

There's always been this need in me, ever since I can remember, to see new places, new things--even if it's only in my own backyard.

To learn new things, to discover, to explore, to observe and simply enjoy the world around me. That's mostly lost to me, for the moment at least. And, until now, I never realized how vital this was to my existence. I can deal with the loneliness--it's being glued to one place that hurts my soul.

I long for an open road. For a moment shared with someone. For an hour or two learning and growing.

But all the longing in the world, won't change a thing. And until the day dawns where I can finally be in a position to change things myself--I'm just plumb dumb outta' luck. Oh well. There's worse things, I very much know. At least the bad things have stopped, for the time being. That's something, anyway, ey?

I'm so incredibly bored. Here's a list of things a bored person can do, at one's local WalMart or Sainsburys, Costco, Woolworths, etc.

1. Hijack the store mic, and announce that the first ten people walking through the door with Y-fronts on their head win a free twenty-five pound (fifty dollar) shopping voucher.

2. Set up ten soda bottles in the centre aisle of the store, and "bowl" with a whole frozen chicken (duck can be substituted).

3. Walk around the store with rolled up newspaper in front of your mouth, singing selections from "The Sound of Music" for the shopper's enjoyment.

4. Hide behind a rack of ladies posh satin nighties, and when a woman looks them over, laugh and say, "Size what? You must be joking!"

5. Snag a store employee smock and walk around "inspecting" the contents of shopper's baskets, saying, "we're just checking to see how cheap you really are," or "Oh my God! Those jeans are so last year," or, "You're not planning on actually eating that, are you?" or, "My Gosh, that's ugly. What were you thinking?"

6. Run around the store with your arms spread out, making airplane noises.

7. Get a stop watch and stand by the till, timing how long it takes for shoppers to unload their baskets. If someone's to slow, tell them they have to go back to the end of the line and start all over again, 'till they get it right.

8. Walk around the store in fancy dress (ie: costume), loudly humming or whistling the Doctor Who or Twilight Zone theme tune.

9. Stand by the store's loo and wait for someone desperate-looking to happen by, and tell him or her the loo's shut and they'll have to use the alley out by the loading docks.

10. Stand by the shoe department pretending you're waiting for someone. When someone tries on a pair of shoes, look down at his or her feet and laugh hysterically.

I can remember, in my teens, getting up in the dark of the morning--about 4.00 am, before the birds even began singing. I'd slip on my jeans and a flannel shirt, stick the ever-present cowboy hat on my head, lace on my trusty work boots--or go barefoot, if the weather was warm--and go out into the "the field next door." The small, disused farm field across the little ravene, next to our house.

It would be still, mostly. A bit of traffic on the nearby four-lane highway--State Route 378--up on the hill. But mostly, there'd be perfect stillness. Even the wind dies before dawn. It's like the world is holding it's breath...waiting.

The robust chirping of the crickets that seemed loud in the night, was always hushed, just before dawn. A few stragglers still keeping the song going, but mostly there was just the...silence.

In the darkness, you could see, down in the village, the bright lights of the Regional Farmers Market--the depot where all the produce and fruits from local farms, and the banana boats and such from the Port of Albany, and the Delaware and Hudson trains, and big semi-trucks--and just from everywhere--would wind up. It was always lit up like a Christmas tree, down there in the bottom of the valley, in the early morning.

But, up on the little hill, where I grew up, it was dark and still yet.

I'd walk to the centre of the field. The dew on the long lush green grass was so heavy some mornings, that the bottoms of my jeans would be soaked with it. But it was a good feeling. Despite the chill of the dew, the feeling it gave me inside was quite warm.

Then, maybe going to lean against one of the two remaining ancient apple trees--their bark gray and streaked with black mold here and there, as nature tried it's best to wear them down with time. But a sturdy friend, nonetheless--something that was always there, something solid and dependable, like the morning itself. It was still there, when we finally moved away, in November of '83.

And I'd wait. Wait for the tapestry of morning to unfold itself before my eyes, a living breathing, ever-moving, ever-changing work of art.

The black slowly turned to cobalt blue. The moon would slide down, but the stars would still be visible. The cobalt blue shading slowly to gray. A lone robin would chirp. Once, tentatively, then a few more times. Then, the sky would open, and a warm, soft blue would take shape.

Across the river, the light against the hills would also change. A soft pink, tinging the blue, would creep across the line of low hills. Soon, that lonely chirping, would burst into the song. And that one brave robin, would soon be joined by others of his or her kind--a sudden bursting of cheery song from dozens of throats of the red-breasted wee things.

Then, a miracle would truly happen. The sky over the hills would be transformed into the most amazing palate of colours one could ever hope to see. A living tapestry being woven before one's very own eyes. The robin would be joined by the sad cooing of a mourning dove. And the sky would transform...deep rose, blood red, orange, white, blue..so many colours, and in such quick succession, you could barely credit your eyes.

And this, this was worth getting up in the dark for, and getting my the bottoms of my jeans wet.

Okay, opened an e-mail...OMG! Another female Whovian from the Doctor Who Online site, taking issue with the fact that I don't think David Tennant is "all that".

Am I the only female Doctor Who fan on the planet who doesn't drool or scream everytime the man makes an entrance? Guess so. Hmmmm---interesting. He's sexy? Wow, I have been out of circulation a while, I guess, ha-ha.

Yeah, great actor, seems personable (having never met him--nor am I ever likely to, I certainly can't say), he is, I guess, somewhat handsome and has a nice smile--but no. Not sexy.

Why do female Who fans get so upset with me for not surrendering for Mr. Tennant's supposedly sexy charms? Who cares? I'm an ugly, ill-tempered old maid with no life whatsover--why care about what I think in regards to his questionable male charms?

I think the nick-name's a bit of a turnoff, as well: David "Teninch." What? Did he actually measure the darn thing? Does he keep a tape measure in his pocket to give all the girls a thrill?

Anyway. Sex-appeal aside, I adore the acting, get a thrill watching him work--such energy! Would have loved taking acting class with this guy--bet he was a blast to work with. But please, fellow Whovians--At 46, and having never been seriously kissed, yours truly is just not now, nor will I ever be, into "sexy." And even if I was, I'm more the Hugh Grant type, myself.

Gah! I am so incredibly bored. I suppose I could have gone out to a movie tonight--but don't want to spend the money. I've the cable/phone bill and utilities to pay yet.

I suppose I could finally break down and spend the additional roughly 12 dollars a month on basic cable--the local channels--except I'd have to shell out for the service call, and next month my income is going to drop by around 500 dollars, at least. I will only have on average, about 50 dollars, and I'm trying to save to get another car, someday, so I can finally get the hell out of this city.

Yeah, Glens Falls, NY is real exciting in the winter. You can sit in the park, and watch the pollution-laden steam rise from the cooling stacks at the paper mill. You can stand facing the wind, by the Glens Falls National Bank clock, and see how long it takes for frostbite to set in. You can walk along South Street on a Friday night, counting drunks. You can walk to the bridge over the Glen Falls, look over, and watch the water freeze on the rocks. You can wait outside the theater or wine merchants, and accost yuppies, pretending you've lost your hound dog and you can't go hunting squirrels in the park without him. You can jog through the Burger King drive-thru naked. There's loads to do in Glens Falls, this time of year!

HUDSON RIVER AT GLENS FALLS, NY

DOWNTOWN GLENS FALLS (Photo by me)