I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

It's Sunday, the dull winter sun's pouring through my front windows, the cat's are alternately washing and napping, and I'm sitting here typing...what?

Haven't much to say. Wasn't even going to bother blogging today. Seems rather pointless, some days, when I've nothing to say.

It's funny, my life before, was like a paper full of scribbles and jumbled notes and cross-outs. Now, it's just...blank. And I seem to be stuck in the writer's block of life. I've no clue what to do, where to go, or how to even begin. It's not a good thing, for me, who has a tendency--after I'm done freaking out or being all depressed about it--to just take the bull by its proverbial horns and wrestle with it 'till something happens--good or bad. Problem is, I can't even find the bull right now--so no horns to mess about with, even.

Have to work today--12 days in a row, by the time Friday rolls around--with only next Saturday off, before I have it all to do, all over again.

My job is so pointless--but then, have I ever held a job that wasn't? I am in the place I never wanted to be in--and I sometimes wish I'd never tried to make things different--If I'd just faced the facts about who and what I am, 20 years ago, I probably would be a lot happier now--and a lot better off. Now I can see why my dad was such a miserable SOB--and I'm becoming just like him, it seems.

I sometimes crave human contact--but at the same time, shy away from it with a passion. I don't want to involve someone in my topsy-turvy life. And, I can't see anyone wanted that, either. I always get the impression that my presence makes people uncomfortable--I don't know if that's an accurate impression or not, mind. It's just what I perceive. But it's true--I'm afraid. I am scared that I'll get close to someone and he or she will one day walk out on me in anger or disgust or just...give up on me. And that's one hurt I simply cannot bear--so it's better for me, inside, to be alone, in the physical sense.

The road of my life, will just have to remain empty--and there's no changing that, that I can see.

So, the latest Doctor Who rumor: the last episode of series three is titled "Zog." Yeah. Great name--sounds like a bad 1950's film, or some hip new kid's slang term for snogging. Well, I won't criticize the thing until I've had a look--it's probably good, most DW episodes have been exceptional, so far. But "zog?" I dunno'...hope it's a working title.

And, speaking of snogging, I also hear Martha's going to snog the Doctor. I guess even male Time Lords go through a middle-age crisis, ey? At least he hasn't turned the Tardis into a Ferrari, is wearing gold chains or promoting Viagra...thank goodness for small favours--or in tennant's case, "teninch" one's--sorry, couldn't help myself.