Posts Tagged ‘Doctor Who’

Two-thirds of the way through the year 2012, the future still has between twenty-eight and thirty-five months for Mattel to get their act together and give us this before a class action lawsuit happens as a result of false advertising, although I’ve heard rumors that it might happen as soon a Christmas 2012.  Let’s not even get started on the issue of why we don’t have jet-packs yet, but an article by Bill Winningham pretty much sums it up:  we’re too afraid, although the Breitling “Jet-Man” is showing the world that some have it in them to overcome that great fear.  Much of this has to do with the conflict between what is deemed possible and what is deemed otherwise.

If some crazy Albert Einstein haired scientist showed up in the parking lot across from my apartment building with a working Flux Capacitor installed in his car – be it running on plutonium stolen from the Iranians, since Libya is more of a state in flux with the ousting of Muammar Gaddafi, or a Mr. Fusion Bio-Reactor – I’d probably try it even if I wasn’t trying to escape the guys the scientist swindled.  Chances are I’d have it take me back in time time 30 years so I could witness my birth, my genesis (just as an observer of course; there is that whole fabric of space time, wibbly wobbly, timey wimey, prime directive thing to worry about).  To actually witness that moment in real-time and not just get to see where it happened, even if the location is somewhat unchanged by the passage of time, would be something.

Or I might go back to the night I cried myself to sleep in the hospital as a young teenager thinking I might die but having a comforting voice tell me I would be ok.  If I did that, what if that voice was my future self?  It wasn’t, but that would definitely be meta.  Imagine a future me telling the teenage me everything I know now, all the adventures, the general craziness of the journey.  I’d be pulling a Rhino and telling my doubting self that I’m the human version of Bolt; that “the impossible can become possible…” and I wouldn’t be too far off the mark because the impossible has become something greater than possible in many cases, it’s become my past.  It’s not because of me though, it’s because of Him, the Heavenly Father, for with whom all things are possible because He can do more than we can ask or think.

What’s your “impossible” that needs to become your past?


As it’s legions of fan know well, Doctor Who is a long standing science fiction television series from “across the pond”, thanks to the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC).  In it, “The Doctor” travels through time in a 1960’s era blue “police box” (phone box) called the TARDIS (Time And Relative Dimension In Space).  The show began in the 1960’s and still continues today, with the premiere of the seventh season of the reboot – which began in 2005 – just a few weeks off.

In one of the more well-known episodes of the reboot, an episode called Blink, The Doctor is trapped in the year 1969 and unable to extradite himself because he doesn’t have access to the TARDIS.  Meanwhile, in 2007, a young woman named Sally Sparrow encounters a message from The Doctor scrawled out on the inner walls of an old house foretelling future events involving her.  It is in this house that Sally and her friend Kathy encounter “The Weeping Angels” – an alien race of beings that look like crying stone angels – who, if you look at them, won’t kill you but send you back into some point in the past.  This happens to Kathy and she is transported back to 1923, where to marries, lives out her life, dies, and has her grandson promise to deliver a letter to Sally at that house on the day she would be there.  This leads her to a video store run by Kathy’s brother, who is obsessed with a series of, what appear to be, one sided conversations that the doctor recorded back in 1969.  These messages try and explain the nature of time as the Doctor sees it and warns of the Weeping Angels, their desire to posses the TARDIS,  and how they also move closer to you when you turn your back on them; they are the Boo Ghosts – from Super Mario – of the Doctor Who universe.  In the video message he utters the immortal words, “The Angels Have The Phone Box…don’t turn your back, don’t look away, and whatever you do, Don’t Blink”

A few days ago I got a strange knock at my door, and standing before me was a man I had never seen before.  He looked at me and kindly asked if I could move my blue scooter away from the telecommunications closet I generally park it in front of, which is located next to my apartment, a closest he affectionately called “The Phone Box”.  Certainly willing to comply, I moved the scooter a bit further down the hall.  As I walked back inside my apartment a knowing smile crept over my face and I began to chuckle as I realized “The Scooter has blocked The Phone Box”.

Who knew?  Maybe the Doctor did… *cue credits*

This might be the sort of blog post you expect to see written by someone with an AARP card or maybe a parent with young kids – like my best friend and his wife  – but I’m neither.  I’m about a quarter-century away from the card and a long way off from being a dad; right now my aspiration to be the geeky uncle the future kiddos want to hang out with is quite enough in that department.  Despite being somewhat youthful still, I don’t move at a rushed pace as if I have a super-villain by the lapel, ready to right-cross him with the mighty Fist of Justice, and then win a race against The Flash.  The pace is more akin to the three-legged and worn steadiness of Jedi Master Yoda, exuding great bursts of physical energy only when such is needed.  This pace is most evident to me when I travel, which I recently did.  I do my best to arrive at the airport with more time than I need as I rarely run though the airport in danger of missing a flight, although that happened recently.  Only once have I actually run the length of an airport – with the walker – to ensure I made a flight on time and the subsequent exhaustion and pain made me feel like I had just run in the Special Olympics like when I was much younger; trying to talk to my parents by phone after being rushed onto the plane by the flight crew wasn’t a walk in the park either.

More often than not I slowly meander my way to the gate, one step at a time, minding my surroundings like Bruce Wayne was taught to do in Batman Begins.  Often times I take the time at the gate to rest, because you never know who you’ll meet on the plane, if a conversation will happen, or the energy it might take.  Nowadays I opt for a seat near the rear of the plane, since I generally board first, have to deal with less passenger traffic that way, and always have to wait for the plane to empty to get my walker when the plane lands.  Same goes for when I get off the plane and on to where I am going.

Time is all we have, and we don’t even know how much.  Rushing from one place to the next is rarely beneficial; who knows what – or who – you’ll miss.  Right now I’m in one of the best periods of life, as things have been forced to slow down due to my former boss’s resignation and the shift in focus to finding what is next in life after six-plus years of working in Congress.  Instead of being beholden to the tyranny of the urgent, I can take the time to search, write, question, and try to determine what the next chapter, I daresay the next Quest, will be; I am not rushing it at all.

When you rush, it’s like blinking; when you blink, you miss it.  Don’t Blink.  The slower path is often better – here’s to the slow path – the one whereby you arrive precisely when you are meant to, for the road goes ever on and on; down from the door where it began; now far ahead the road has gone and I must follow if I can…

Which path are you on and what might you be missing?