The Two Best Little Things About Today

It's always the little things in life that are the most wonderful. They can be so subtle, but have the greatest impact on the outlook of your day.
Today was a day about experiencing the little things; and in essence, all I did was wake up and buy food. But there was a lot more to it, I swear.

• I woke up and it rained: The grey sky streamed into my room and bathed everything in what could be interpreted as a dull or dark-bright light; all whilst the pitter-patter of raindrops played a symphony.
• I made toast: The bread was fresh, light and fluffy against the pressure of my fingertips. As it cooked, my eyes stared at the bred burning within the metal incinerator knowing that such light fluffiness would crisp into something wonderful; such a procedure would be incandescent to a butterfly emerging from a fiery chrysalis. Upon emerging, I quickly pinched the bread and covered it in a cool blanket of golden marmalade.

I suppose my day has been somewhat dull, but it's always great to elaborate on the little things to make them sound more profound. Always make the little beautiful things have more of a meaning to them so that you have more of an excuse to smile. 

And in other news, I have become strangely addicted to cooking... I suppose it's better than drugs. My next odyssey begins with a Jamaican virgin coconut and pineapple cake or something draped in numerous folds of chocolate. Fun times ahead!

The Beginning of The End... (A Poorly Written Odyssey)

It was my seventeenth birthday 9 days ago.
Usually when birthdays come around, one celebrates another year of existing on this rotating planet. Presents fall upon them and cake is usually consumed (unless they're from the third world we so desperately seek to feed). But this year, my birthday was nothing special.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't deprived of a party or anything like that. In fact I had a really nice one; there was cake and a hot guy (sadly not a stripper). But this seventeenth birthday was the beginning of the end. This symbolised the fact that I'm on the verge of being a fully-fledged member of the adult world. In 356 days I gain membership into a whole new, scary world.
And for a twonk as small and erratic as myself, this signifies more scary things like maturity and responsibility and (Gallifrey forbid) a life that only I can control.

This is the beginning of the end... the start of an unexpected journey into sight and sound...
And I don't know where this will end or where I'll go. No one ever does and no one is ever considerate enough to write a guidebook so that the twonks of this universe have a means of navigating such a big, scary world.
It can be a truth universally acknowledged that perhaps it's not about needing to know where one will end up, but it's nice to know what to expect. Which I don't, due to the lack of a guidebook.

You could expect that someone somewhere wrote a guidebook for such a purpose as directing people how to live. Aren't adults meant to guide the inexperienced youth?
I was talking to my school chaplain the other day and she commented on the short amount of time I have left at school.
"Only a while to go; then you'll be free as a bee" she said, as she stared into the sunset-deprived hellhole that enforces my education.
I don't have anything against bees or freedom. In fact, it could be quite liberating to live life as a bumblebee. But the thought of unfolding my wings with no idea of how to fly is horrifically daunting.

So I suppose (to summarise everything in this twaddle-filled post) that in less than 356 days, I'll begin an odyssey.
Odyssey is my new favourite word. I love the taste of it on my tongue when I speak it (I also love to say the name 'Ianto'). I love the way it sounds like a whisper. But when you take away the joy it brings to my senses, it's also a great word.

odyssey: a long and eventful/adventurous journey or experience

And in light of my future odyssey, I have decided to (eventually) move all my future blog posts to another one. Like the direction of life, I don't entirely know what will happen or what the outcome may be. Heck, I don't even know when the odyssey/blog posts will begin. It's all rather chaotic and poorly planned, isn't it? Perhaps it's going to bugger up or perhaps I'll be a billionaire by the age of 30. No one really knows the outcome, so fingers crossed that all goes well.

PS: The lack of posts has been due to an all-consuming holiday. The holiday had the insatiable hunger of a tapeworm; it devoured my life with things like food, friends, Supernatural and Torchwood. No one was spared such wrath; not even the children...

The Best Words In The World

This list is composed of words that are, quite simply, the best in the universe. Some words have cool meanings, some are delightful to utter... and some are a combination of the two factors.

• Petrichor: a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a period of long, dry weather. Well... it's actually hands-down the best smell in the world.
• Sycophant: a person who acts obsequiously towards someone important to gain advantage. I know a person who fits this quite well, and the advantage I want them to get comes in the form of a guillotine.
• Ameliorate: make (something bad or unsatisfactory) better. 
• Magnanimous: generous or forgiving, especially towards a rival/less powerful person.
• Vexation: the state of being annoyed, frustrated or worried.
• Innuendo: an allusive or oblique remark/hint, typically a suggestive (sexually) or disparaging one. 
• Obsequious: obedient/attentive to an excessive/servile degree. It's also one of the most infuriating qualities in a human being...  
• Fallacy: a mistaken belief, especially one based on unsound arguments.
• Heretic: (1) a person believing in, or practicing, religious heresy. (2) A person holding an opinion at odds with what is generally accepted. Not to be confused with 'heathen': (1) a follower of a polytheistic religion (a "pagan") (2) a person who does not belong to a widely held religion (especially one who is not Christian, Jewish or Islamic) as regarded by those who do.
• Gargantuan: enormous
• Herpetology: the branch of zoology concerned with reptiles and amphibians.
• Perplex: make (someone) feel completely baffled.
• Psychosis: a severe mental disorder in which thought and emotions are so impaired that contact is lost with external reality.
• Palindrome: a word/phrase/sequence that reads the same backwards as it does forwards. Interestingly, a semordnilap ('palindromes' spelt backwards) is a word that spells a different word when spelt backwards. 
• Vendetta: a blood feud in which the family of a murdered person seeks revenge on the murderer or their family.
• Pneumonia: a lung inflammation caused by bacterial or viral infection, in which the air sacs fill with pus and may become solid. Wish this one upon your enemies.
• Tuberculosis: an infectious bacterial disease characterised by the growth of nodules (tubercles) in the tissues; especially the lungs.
• Majestic: having or showing impressive beauty or scale.
• Complacent: showing smug or uncritical satisfaction with oneself or one's achievements.
• Irrefutable: impossible to deny or disprove. 
• Unorthodox: contrary to what is usual, traditional or accepted (not orthodox). 
• Decomposition: the state or process of rotting/decay
• Cadaver: a corpse.
• Fascism: an authoritarian and nationalistic right-wing system of government and social organisation. 
• Annihilation: complete destruction or obliteration.
• Desecration: the action of desecrating something (Justin Bieber's contributions to the music industry are a key example).
• Twonk: (British informal) a stupid or foolish person.
• Deranged: mad/insane. One of the most appropriate words used to describe me.
• Pestilence: a fatal epidemic disease, especially bubonic plague.
• Cumbersome: large or heavy, and therefore difficult to use.
• Mortuary: a room/building in which dead bodies are kept, for hygienic storage or for examination, until burial or cremation.
• Crux: the decisive or most important point at issue.

You'll have to forgive the excessive use of medical/disease/morbid words; medical dictionaries and history books are full of alluring words. 

• Alluring: powerfully and mysteriously attractive or fascinating; seductive.

Secrecy= Success

The key to healthy relationships and a blissful social life is no longer the affection we show to others. Petty emotions are dead. They are the playthings of daydreamers.
If you are to maintain a grasp on the sentiments of your peers, you would do well to know the importance of secrecy.
Secrecy is hard to come by these days. In the boom of the Digital Revolution, any information we want is but a click away. Whether it is about environmental matters or Parisian fashion, no one really has the excuse to be ignorant of everything in the world. It's all right in front of us.
Above all, what is on our screens are the lives of other people; people so quickly and willingly expose themselves online. But most intriguingly, people are more quick to expose others, and the phrase "keep this to yourself" has now become meaningless. Don't all words lose their meaning when no one listens to them?

Sadly, even without the help of technology, people are so quick to gossip about the lives of their peers, and all with a clear conscience by the time they've changed the topic. Even without adding false words to their 'knowledge', this disclosure has begun to spread a poison.
Toxicity has always broken down relationships, and it's brutal to keep calm and carry on talking to your toxic peer when you know they've stabbed you in the back. But they don't know that you know. Thus, a toxic pattern will start: you'll loathe them, you'll pretend not to, you'll go home cursing their name... All while grinning and bearing it, unless of course you're someone else's toxic friend.

Of course, you could rely on the few close friends you have, and be content. But even now that may be a lie. You never know anymore who loves you and who yearns to push you down the stairs. You just now know that they exist.
Each of us has had (or currently does have) at least one toxic friend who allowed/allows your friendship to die by sharing your secrets and personal stories. The discovery of such a 'friend' is painful, and it sucks that nowadays it's pretty much a rite of passage to discover such a b*tch/bastard in your midst.
Like all successful diseases, there remains no cure for toxic bastards. And much like band-aids, you can't get rid of such people without a certain amount of pain. The most successful preventative measure you can take is to be careful with the trust placed in other people.
Don't meet someone and give them your house keys if they make you smile once. Let the same smile reappear many times for all the right reasons, and you're onto something good.
It's good to have faith in people and it's wonderful to know that it's mutual. Once such faith is destroyed, it can never be repaired to its former glory. So it's wise to truly trust someone before you tell them all your secrets. And they need to expect the same from you. If they can't get what they're entitled to, why should you??

Information (particularly secrets) is power. It can be a force for good, or a weapon at your throat. To own it makes you the most powerful person in the room. To wield it wisely makes you the kindest. But to share it with all the other people never makes you the bravest. 

Kitchen Explosion Tuesday/Winter Is Coming

One afternoon, a girl was walking home from school in the chilly May breeze. Cool shivers running down her back delighted her; winter was coming.
As she entered her street (with enthusiasm in her skip), she could smell the pleasant fragrance of burning wood emerging from a neighbours chimney. The loveliness in the air inspired her to enter her kitchen (upon arriving at her house) and make toasted cheese sandwiches.

Alas, life isn't a pretty fairytale. The girl in question, is me. And if you knew her as well as I do, you'd never let her near an appliance again.
Because once she entered the kitchen to make the toast, she decided that today would be Kitchen Experiment Tuesday and that she would test out an innovative new way of making toasted cheese sandwiches.
I saw on Tumblr a post where someone tried to toast their cheese by turning the toaster on its side and putting the bread with cheese inside. Of course, in the magical world of Tumblr, the only way this could go wrong would be if the toast flew out of the sideways-toaster and onto the floor; bread-side up. Alas, some people can be so very lucky with their misfortunes.
My sideways-toaster began to smell of charred plastic, shortly before smoke billowed out of the electrical socket.

Not entirely disheartened, I decided to try another method of cooking my toasted cheese sandwiches.
I layered the cheese onto the bread, to the point where the cheese formed mozzarella mountains (love alliteration!), and I reached for my crème brûlée blowtorch.
For minutes, I stood over the flames as my cheese slowly melted and burnt. Eventually, I was satisfied with my very scorched lunch... until my eyes saw the microwave and I realised that the simplest methods are often the best.

Moral of this random story: Don't do drugs. 

The-actual-moral: Never let an idiot into a kitchen.

In other news: Winter is coming (if you live in the Southern Hemisphere). Be very delighted.

A Sanguinary Comparison....

Last term in English, much Shakespeare was studied. Every day was never complete unless it had exposure to the wicked wit and masterful stories from the Bard. With such heavy exposure comes either a passion or a resentment, and although I cannot say that all the work of Shakespeare is  palatable, Macbeth is perhaps one of the greatest scripted works to come out of England (although not as fabulous as any episode of Sherlock. Perhaps I'm not entirely passionate?)

Murder, madness, violence, bloodshed, strong use of gender roles... all sounding rather Game of Thrones until you look at the goals of a certain dominatrix in a matter that isn't entirely how Shakespeare wanted us to look at them.
The main point throughout Macbeth is that when quests for power become ingrained with a loss of morals, ultimately, the one who has sought power wilfully through such a loss, will eventually succumb to an almighty downfall. Which is interesting enough as it is.

But through her influence over Macbeth, his wife (Lady Macbeth) has moulded him into the perfect tyrant. She belittles and guilt-trips her husband, all with the intent of him soon paving her way to being Queen of Scotland. Which is pure evil, but that's why we love her.
However, she only meant for Macbeth to be a perfect murderer just once, and that was just to kill the current king. Such murderous perfection was never meant to fail when she devised this plan. And by the time her death is announced, her man has become a monster; something which sounds awfully familiar to another brilliant English text; Frankenstein.

I read Frankenstein several years ago, and aside from it being the book that ostracised me further from the 'cool kids', it was one of the most brilliant, thought-provoking things I'd ever read. The character of Victor Frankenstein bears almost no resemblance to Lady Macbeth, and yet they are almost identical with the stories of their quests to attain greatness.
Lady Macbeth was a woman in a time where female= weak. Victor Frankenstein was just a Genevan scientist who wanted to galvanise dead tissue and create the perfect human. They endeavoured to reshape what was human and make it what they wished. But their 'perfect' men soon became monsters in the eyes of their creators and the realisation killed them inside; knowing that what they wanted was now a despicable force that they did not understand and could not control.
As a result (and long stories short), their madness killed them.

This whole post is just a compilation of my random conclusions, but isn't it brilliant how intertextuality works?

We are Oxymorons

Oft radioactive hot or grotesque beyond belief. 
Too knavish for words, or too smart to be defined by them.
A romantic by the day, and the next; heartbreaker.
The source of all one's happiness or the cause of all the grief.
Tell me, what is it with men?- William Shakespeare (if he was gay)

I'm aware that people will one day read this and be in possession of a Y-chromosome. Perhaps seconds later they will express their indignation at potential sexism. Maybe even convey it through a poem or a letter (although a telegram would make me smile). For why is it that I must so judge the male species so harshly?
'Tis love that infuriates me so much and fuels my on/off hatred of men.The most fickle and complex of emotions drives me to new heights of resentment or ecstasy; however his exploits affect me. And his exploits reflect poorly or brilliantly upon the other males in the universe.
At any given one of the womanly conferences I have with fellow heterosexual women, we may pause our discussion to berate our significant other. This ultimately culminates into a mass speech about the poor qualities and actions of said significant other. Perhaps then one woman mumbles a quality of someone else's heterosexual male partner that she thinks is rather good.
She doesn't leave the room without a blow to the head and a torrent of verbal abuse.

Now, I must mention that to be fair, both of the sexes are oxymorons. Men are both wonderful and stupid. Women are both beautiful and frightful. This is true, because as a female representative, I find myself often scared of myself or the other women around me. I am also trapped in a daze at the sight of select few male specimens, but then repelled by the insanity that they say/do/fail to say/fail to do.
Biology traps us to be confined in an infinite loop of masculine madness/brilliance or feminine wonder/terror and to live life as an oxymoron. Basic understanding of how this biology works ensures that we are still oxymorons, but ones who live in an understanding of the opposite gender.
Is tolerance not better than sexist assumptions?

China Anniversary

Yesterday was a day where a celebration could have taken place. Candles could have been extinguished, cake could have been eaten and a long cliched speech could have been delivered.

T’was a casual second V=MC squared anniversary though; it seemed somewhat impractical to make an immense fuss.

Second anniversaries are no remarkable thing. It’s good to know that things can last two years, but is it worth a cake?

Well, to be blunt, this time they are. And not just because I like a good excuse for a cake, but because IT’S MY BLOG. To a few of those lucky enough to operate a blog, it’s often like their child. At their best, we applaud, and at their worst we feel pain. When they grow and change, sometimes we do too. 

So it’s only fitting that you celebrate the fact that they have survived another year and that within that, they have done so much. 

However, blogs aren’t legitimate children. They can’t do much other than get successful (or not). But today, I’d like my readers to raise their glass in honour of the things that have changed within the world throughout these 2 years. 

Yes, there’s been strife and turmoil and causes for panic, and then there’s been the good stuff. All of which this little blog has survived. Not bad for one minute dysfunctional blog out of millions.

The Perks of being an anti-Valentine

Whether you call it "Single Awareness Day" or celebrate Valentine's Day for what it is, let me just ruin the day after V-Day with my bitter-single-woman ravings.
To be fair, it's not the worst time of year but nonetheless, it is up there with things like Hitler's birthday and I hate V-Day for two unorthodox (but right) reasons.

1. There's this expectancy that if you're in a relationship, you then have to get your partner a gift of some ostentatious standard; failure to do so results in your name being written on a blacklist composed by your partner and the pedantic people in society. It's horrible to think that perhaps one day I'll receive a teddy bear or a box of chocolates on any given February 14 simply because he felt as though he had to give it to me. Which is I suppose all in the name of good intentions, but if you're going to exhibit your love to someone in the form of a teddy (or anything, really), then why confine it to Valentine's Day, otherwise known as the day everyone else gives each other teddy bears. It's too mainstream and it puts pressure on your partner to do this for you when what they could be doing is surprising you with a teddy bear at any other given time of the year. Because if it's a gift on V-Day, it's normal. Then compare it to a gift on a random day and watch how quickly that becomes more romantic/spontaneous.
2. The commercialism and generic-ness behind the gift and date options. Much of the hatred of the motive behind this reason is due to the fact that everything that people adore about V-Day can be seen in movies and wherever you go in the shops. You cannot seem to go anywhere without being bombarded by discounts on flowers, chocolates, cuddly toys and sexy lingerie. For some people it must be nice to receive a beautiful flower or a new pair of knickers, but to this little pessimist, all that I can think of is all those people with lactose intolerance who cannot eat the chocolate they've been given. Or those who cannot hug the teddy or wear the knickers or smell the lilies because they will get a rash if they do. And the stereotype of going to a restaurant or a movie for the date... whatever happened to the romance found in something like hunting or something that is perhaps more sentimental or related to a passionate interest you share?
3. The bitter females (of any age) who are too single to afford a relationship. We live in an age where feminism is legal, and to have it is a symbol of empowerment. If this is the case, why is it that we see all these single ladies complaining via social media (or the public scowl on their face) about the fact that they either don't approve of the happy couples or the fact that V-Day pays little/no attention to the single Pringles? It's apparent that they haven't grasped that V-Day is almost exclusively a day for lovers. Solving the problem of V-Day is simple: create a holiday for singles where singles can give themselves gifts to celebrate how much they love themselves. Or does that sound too much like their everyday lives?

All the inane cuddling in the streets and those love quotes on Facebook and $5 cards surprisingly don't pose as an extreme source of personal irritation. In the long run, the public displays of sentiment bring with them this one advantage: like Christmas, they come but once a year. Then everyone, regardless of whether they celebrated or not, goes back to living their lives.

Happy post-V-Day to all the singles, the couples and all those in-between. There may be no romantic attachment between us, but I still love you all.

Sing Me To Sleep- a random thought

I hate waking up from vivid dreams.
The reality within the fiction is often so much more pleasant than the world in front of your closed eyelids. Within that fiction comes a certain freedom; where what is never said or done can be expressed in great clarity.
Often the world is prettier in dreams. The touch of a lover feels warmer and his scent could never be more aromatic. When you dance across a room, you can feel the world move around you.
And if perchance, you look outside and see the stars; they shine and twinkle much more than the meagre silver things that freckle the sky in the real world.

Sadly, we cannot dream forever. The alarm blares and the new day begins. And reality tears blissful fiction apart. With the laceration of that fiction comes a substitute that cannot be defeated. The substitute can be seen everywhere at any given time of the day; death, struggle, loss, humiliation, sickness, torture and the suffering of the world.
It is a dark place the world beyond the eyelids. Many beautiful things, but much darkness comes with this too. We are doomed to experience both the tragedies and comedies in life, and I suppose we must make the most of both performances.
But in all honesty, admit to yourself that you would live within the fictional world of your own dreams rather than wake up and face reality; where dreams only come true through means that aren't magical.

So I suppose that if you have the audacity to break into my bedroom,
You'll at least have the decency to sing me to sleep and dance with me in my dreams. 

Journey's End

So yesterday I finally got back from my holiday to London and Paris. To sum up my holiday in 1 sentence only; I have found my home.
My journey started with London (after 2 flights). As the plane descended I looked out the window and saw it all spread out below me; illuminated the most spectacular golden colour with the Thames weaving its way throughout the gold like smoke. Everything seemed so surreal and beautiful I began to weep with ecstasy.
Then once my feet actually touched the ground, a sense of home swept over me. Until then, I had never felt home in the expected places, and yet with this unexpection came the greatest sense of it ever.

Many sights were seen:

The British Museum

221B Baker Street (The Sherlock Holmes Museum)

Buckingham Palace

(Me with a police box/TARDIS outside of Earl's Court Station)

The Tower Of London

The Elizabeth Tower (Big Ben is the name of the bell inside it) and the Houses of Parliament

Kings Cross Station/Platform 9 3/4

Westminster Abbey

I also explored Whitechapel (Jack the Ripper) and saw places like Downing St, the art gallery where Skyfall was filmed, The London Museum, Hamley's, St Paul's Cathedral, St Bartholomews Hospital, the Ritz, Tower Bridge, Westminster Bridge and London Bridge. Aside from the number of people who smoke cigarettes, the most noticeable thing about London is how delightfully contagious the accents are. After about a day, my own twangy accent mellowed into something vaguely similar to BBC English, then after a day in Paris it was back to reality....

Nonetheless, Paris was one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. Well, not on the first day. Upon boarding the Eurostar from St Pancras to Gare Du Nord, any knowledge I had of the French language seemed to disappear instantly, and by the time I arrived, I spoke French with the clarity of a mute.

But as the days went on and I was forced to actually talk to people, it became easier to talk and I got less nervous. And I suppose seeing beautiful sights such as the Louvre, Champs-Élyseés, the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, Academie Nationale de Music, Notre Dame, Lover's Bridge and the Bastille monument make everything daunting seem less memorable.

Arc de Triomphe

From the top of the Arc.... best view ever!!

I look at this photo now and instead of seeing the beauty behind me, I can think only of how cold and wet my feet are

Mona Lisa

The Louvre; my most favourite part of the holiday, and my new favourite building

In front of Notre Dame. Inside it's all dark but the windows are the most beautiful colours

On the whole, this holiday was not so much a mere holiday, but something that highlighted two things:

• I know where I'm going to live one day
• I no longer feel like the child I can still claim to be at the movies (for cheaper admission)

The sudden feeling of maturity can only be attributed to the independence I felt whilst overseas. The first time one steps foot in a foreign country can seem incredibly daunting (and it is), but when you acclimatise to it all, you feel immense feelings of success. 

For me, the success came with how easy it was to get around London and Paris (much thanks needs to be given to the Underground and the Metropolitain) and after realising that I was getting around the country with more ease than my other traveling companions, it felt as if I'd emerged from a cocoon and opened my wings.

I'm going to need those wings this year. School has started and all my holiday adventures have had to come to an end. The reality has hit me again, but the memories linger on and the dream of returning to Europe has become a motivation.

Preparation

As I write this, my bed is sagging under the weight of numerous winter clothes. Such is an ordeal one must go through when packing for London and Paris.
Many have suggested travel tips and what to wear. Apparently, the weather in Paris right now is so cold, one must wear gear that wouldn't look out of place in a ski resort. It seems to be a bit inconsistent with the clothing expectations of the fashion capital of the world.

It's hard to make note of various travel tips and take note of how many jumpers you've got (3), when you've got a massive batch of cookies to make for a party, as well as attend a production of The Rocky Horror Show.
But they are very good distractions, and in the photo below, I raise a glass for the people who haven't seen such a brilliant spectacle (Rocky Horror, not the baking).

(My bed. You can't see the Union Jack bedsheets because of the Mt Everest of clothes piled on top)

Everything Is Fine... (something along those lines)

More than a week ago, I left you all with the hope that 2014 would bring a tonne of good stuff to all. Not a lot is expected to happen in a week alone, so don't be surprised if the New Year hasn't done anything so far to change your relationship status/weight/income. The important changes and other good things take time to fall into place.

Sometimes, if you're really lucky, a lot can happen in a week and it's either really good or really bad. But today, I write to announce that the somewhat recurring-ly good things to come to me this year have got my hopes up for what the remainder of this year has to bring. 

• I’m off to London and Paris in less than 11 days!

• I’ll have finished school forever by the end of the year

• Nabbed a lead role in this years school musical (Cogsworth in Beauty and the Beast..... be very afraid!)

• Am now officially the Music Captain for my school

Aside from one other prospect that remains veiled (all will be revealed once it happens), I'm personally pretty excited for this year and occasionally baffled when others say they aren't. Sometimes they are spared my bemusement when their reasons for doing so are potentially traumatic, but other times I do have to leave the understanding card at home. 

They fear rejection or failure when they haven't started what they've planned. They fear boredom and humiliation with no idea of the potential events that have yet to come. It's always bonkers to fear the unknown and dread what hasn't happened, because the thing with the unknown is that you have no idea what it is that has yet to be known. For all you know (or don’t) it will result in something fabulous or sucky. The only way to be sure of what the unknown is; get to know it. 

In other news, the brilliance that is the new season of Sherlock has so far not failed to captivate me. Ditto Big Bang Theory. I wish that the same could be said of Peter Capaldi’s incarnation of the Doctor, but you can’t have everything. Just the hope that it will get better.