Hopeful Theory on Doctor Who

I'd really like to apologize for the lack of posts.  I've been busy, with this being that particular time of year. 
I did make it to see the first new episode of Doctor Who (though sadly, not the latest.)  I've not got a lot of time on my hands, so even making time for that 45 minutes was tough. 
But someone posted this idea about the first episode.  Not only does this strike me as completely plausible, but a really interesting idea.  It's the sort of thing that I wish would happen more often on sci-fi shows, to explore paternity, especially in this day and age, where people can have more than just a mom and dad. 
Cross your fingers this theory turns out to be true. 

Approaching an Answer

So, I asked Jimmy about the conversation I had at lunch yesterday.  His thoughts were that I was approachable only if someone knew me.  Otherwise, not so much. 
I realized as I asked him how naturally shy Jimmy is.  It's one of the many things I love about him.  I asked him if I had scared him away, and he said no.  But of course, at that point, I was already friends with Justin and Ryan, and we had those people in common. 
Jimmy did note that I'm usually the one to approach people anyway, which is true at least in some cases. 

Optometrist

Like most people, I hate going to see doctor's.  But I recently realized what I really hate about going: socializing. 
This seems like a strange thing to say, since I'm relatively social.  But those people I socialize with are friends.  I don't want to talk to my doctor's about stuff.  When they ask "How are you?" I want that to be a cue to assert my overall health, not as a chance to catch up on my family, my career and the drama with that one friend. 
With this in mind I went to see my optometrist.  I sat in the waiting room, reading one of those celebrity magazines that I only look at when there's not something more sophisticated. 
I went in with the assistant, an older woman.  We tested various small things with my eyes.  There's a test where you're suppose to tell if certain circles are jumping out at you while wearing 3-D glasses.  As the years have gone on, I have failed more and more of that test. 
Failing eye tests are nothing new.  When I was thirteen, I had to take an eye test while at school.  I failed the first time, with my glasses on.  So they called me in a second time, and I failed a second time, again, with my glasses on.  I tried to explain to the lady running the test I had really poor eyes, and I think she believed me, but I was really embarrassed by this.  I didn't fail anything at that age. 
We kept going through tests, and, even with my glasses on, it's amazing how little I can see.  I think if I had lived before glasses, I would have been confined. 
The doctor came in and I braced myself.  This doctor really likes to socialize.  It's not that I can't be polite, or that I can't speak back, but this particular doctor likes to talk about politics, and we do not share the same beliefs.  Several years ago, he complained to me about a apparently gay English professor who tried to pick him up.  I have gay friends, and I know there's almost no way this story is true.  LBGT people are scared to pick people up if they don't know their sexuality, especially if they're doing so in an "unsafe" place.  (They're more likely to pick up in a gay club or bar, but there it's expected and assumed you're okay with that.)  I didn't really tell him I disagree, but I don't really want to talk to him about politics.  I only rely on him over my eyes because my Mom insists, but the truth is I'd rather try someone else. 
We had a long discussion about surgery.  We've been considering surgery for my eyes for what seems like ever now.  At least high school, though I think it goes back farther than that.  (I was first told that I could use contacts at ten.  I never have because something about putting shards of plastic in your eye strikes me as gross.  I can't even look at someone who is putting in or taking out their contacts.  It's one of the few things I find unsightly.)
Anyway, the surgery option is always on the table, though it's unclear if I qualify.  I would need to get checked. 
Thankfully, there was none of that.  Instead, he went through the usual tests, checking my eyes with those various glasses.  When he decided on something, we moved on to making sure I didn't have things like glaucoma.
I hate those eye drops that you get.  They always make my eyes sting and they give me a headache.  I don't even try to do anything after an eye exam, because I know it's futile to try. 

The Steal

Truth: I don't really like malls.  Or shopping.  I still have issues with clothes.  (Why don't they ever fit right?  Why are they all made for the super skinny?  Why do I have to dress the same way?  Why do stores all sell so much of the same stuff?)
So going to the mall today with some of my friends was sort of a different thing for me.  Obviously, I was going so I could chill with them.  They're all much bigger shoppers than I am.  I don't even remember the last time I was in a mall or out shopping.  Last summer probably, but I can't even remember.  Oh!  Now I know: I went out in May 2009 to help my sister look for a graduation dress.  I bought a dress for the Honors College Ball (one I looked amazing in) and bought two other dresses, and my sister didn't get anything, because if there's anything I've learned about shopping, it's the person who's not looking for something who finds exactly what they've been looking for. 
First, we went into this store that sells accessories.  I started looking through stuff.  I found this great top hat decorated with red lace ribbon.  Ever since my steampunk convention a few weeks back, I have been on the lookout for cool steampunk wear.  I could totally use something like this, even though I already have an (artfully battered) steampunk hat with gray ribbon.
I try not to be an impulse buyer.  I try to talk myself out of at least 75 percent of my purchases.  I talked myself out of this one. 

Meanwhile, Tori and Natasha were inspecting vampire stuff.  "What's this?" Tori asked, holding up a journal with a design from the Vampire Diaries. 
"The Vampire Diaries," I explained, thinking that was enough.
"True Blood?"
"No, that's a different show." 
"Wait, in addition to Twilight and True Blood there's another vampire thing?"
I decided not to mention Buffy or Interview with a Vampire or Anita Blake.  Might not go over well. 
We walked down to a store that sold body lotions.  We walked in.  "I have a headache," I said thirty seconds later.  Natasha heard me and laughed.  It was actually not that bad, but my Mom cannot handle those places at all.  She's very headache-sensitive. 
We looked through things, and I smelled some of the testers.  I kind of hate it when things are described as Midnight Rendezvous or April Showers, because I always think "What does that smell like?"  With something like Strawberry Sorbet it's like, sure, it's meant to smell like strawberries.  At least if it doesn't smell like whatever, you can still be like "Oh, well, at least they achieved a general fruity thing." 
Madison picked up this massive brush and hit me with it and it hurt.  I thought about Josie and pervertables.  She'd love to hear about this.
We then went into an actual clothing store.  While Madison was looking around, I went into the boy's section.  I really love guy's clothing, and a year and a half ago, I promised myself I would start wearing stuff I liked, regardless of where it came from (unless it was from a store that sexually abuses its employees.  I'm not supporting that.)  I'm a big fan of plaid shirts (or plaid anything, really.)  This isn't the right weather for it, but I looked through.  And then I saw this bag on the ground. 
When I went to that convention, I was really sorry I didn't have a better bag (I had just opted to take my handy-dandy goes anywhere black purse).  I had wished I had a canvas bag and there one was.  Like God had heard me thinking about it and asked my Dad if he had one, and then decided to send me to the mall and a store I about never go into. 
I picked it up.  It was a decent size, which was what I wanted.  It was a messenger bag, like I wanted.  It didn't have holes or tears.  Good, good...and I looked at the price.
7.99. 
It was cheap.  A bag like this is a minimum 20, sometimes 30.  How the heck...? 
Well, obviously, I had to get it.  And then, as the clerk was ringing me up, she was like "Oh, it's on sale, plus you get another 20 percent off.  5.49."
5.49?  Sold! 
I showed it to everyone and they were all impressed.  5.49 for a nice big bag like that?
I'm the kind of person who buys something and then instantly regrets it.  I keep expecting it to happen with this bag.  I keep opening it expecting a giant spider to come out and chew my arm off.  To be fair, it's a little awkwardly designed.  If I was making this bag, I'd order different clasps and shoulder strap, but it's really the right look.  
Hilariously enough, of all my friends, I was the only person who bought something today.  See what I mean?  When you're not looking for something, it finds you.