And that just happened...

This morning I remember walking carefully down the stairs in my house, clutching my laptop to my chest. Tricia's post about when she accidentally dropped her laptop down a flight of stairs was weighing on my mind. It's been a worry now for a while, that I'd break it, or a kid would spill a glass of water on it, or that this brilliant pathway into my stories would somehow crack.

I had time, I thought, to scroll facebook, and check up on my friends before I got to the serious workload ahead of me. There's seven days left until Alchemy, the story you've undoubtedly heard to much about, goes to the editor, and my list of things held about twenty days worth of work. In the time I should have been writing, I read one of my friends post on facebook, as he question the appeal of Doctor Who, and like any true Whovian, I had to defend a fictional character. So that, my dear friends, is the writing I got done today before I shut the laptop and took the kids to school. There would be time later to do my day's work, I reasoned.

And then, not ten minutes after I shut it down, I put my two year old in front of some toys and PBS, I sat down in my most comfortable chair, turned the laptop back on, and opened up my work. That's where I was, when I adjusted one fateful time, and the laptop slid from my lap and crashed a foot away-- not on the lush carpet below me, but against the corner of the coffee table.

Two black ovals cut through the strange multicolored lines that now take up the left side of my laptop screen. They look like a glimpse into the cosmos really, darker than seems possible, and surrounded by bright neons, and pure white. It'd be pretty if it wasn't so soul crushingly broken, and expensive to fix.

I cried. A lot. I'd be lying if I were to say I wasn't an hair's breadth away from crying right now. Which is silly in the long run. especially when I read Karen's post, and Sabrina's post. What is a broken laptop screen, when your family is healthy, or your life is a steady drum of the expected. I'm typing now on my ancient desktop. Life goes on. The work is still there. It's not a big deal.

But here, my friends, for your viewing pleasure, are the last words I wrote on my laptop.  

I think the Doctor is one of the most interesting characters ever written. And it's not because of the bow tie, or the shoes, or the actor who's playing it. The Doctor is a coward. He's destroyed his own people, including his family and his friends, in order to stop a war that would destroy the galaxy.  He stole a Tardis and ran away to survive his own actions. He's now alone, a thousand years old, and has seen everyone he loves grow old and die, or worse, not grow old and die, but die at his responsibility. He's seen enough war, ridiculous villains, (and aren't all villains ridiculous? How cool of Doctor Who to point that out), and bleak sadness that he refuses to hold a gun, refuses to fight fire with fire, but instead fights bullies, anger, and resentment with humor,  intelligence, and heart. He runs away a lot, and saves as many people as he can, but there's always someone he can't save, and that's heartbreaking. When it becomes too dark and depressing to bear, he finds a way to sacrifice his own life in order to save others. And that's where the magic of Doctor Who comes in, it's not just that he's this dark twisted broken character, he can start over, fresh faced, and funny. He's a lonely mad man in a box, who should have been dead by now, but he keeps climbing out of his box and he doing good. He finds joy in the mundane. He finds importance in every person he meets. He makes friends, even though he knows he's going to see them die, and he knows it's going to hurt, but he doesn't turn away from pain. He's brave. What girl, nerd or not, wouldn't love that?

Rest in piece, my beautiful friend.

 I'll see you on Thursday.

~Sheena