Doctor Who: Reminiscing…

I am many things. A writer, a singer, a person who will use any excuse to dress up, much more. Of those things, a characteristic I am most proud of, is that I am a brilliant finagler.

My ability to procure what I seek is almost legendary. I am The Seeker. (The black female version…Seeker 3.0)

Despite this, even I was astonished when I procured, this bad boy.


On November 23rd, “Day of the Doctor” the tell all be all for Whovians everywhere, I, Sydney Adams, managed to find tickets to a 3D showing.

For seventeen sweet sweet dollars.

I went through several sold-out movie theaters, because when you don’t have BBC One, or an American equivalent, or patience, you have to finagle.

I imagine Whovians everywhere are mourning the loss of Matt Smith/celebrating the Newbie/emotionally damaged after what occurred. I was listening to the radio and I nearly had a heart attack turning the volume down, because I heard someone talking about what, “The Doctor has been running from…”DUM DUM DUMM!

Don’t spoil it for me, I haven’t seen it yet.

Anyway, to celebrate Doctor Who in my own way, I decided to post my first feelings on Doctor Who from almost a year ago from this day.  I wasn’t always the fan I used to be.  I used to be indifferent. Now, all I can think about it how I have nothing to wear.

I wore this for the Deathly Hallows Part Two 12:00am premiere.

Also the Times Square Exhibition. Yes, I have problems. Harry Potter ain’t one a dem.

2013-03-09 10.35.55  2013-03-09 16.54.54

*sniff sniff* We’re just so happy. (Also, say hi to Summer, the muse of the following section.)


Secrets of the Little Black Book.

Secrets of the Little Black Book.

I have a little black book.

It holds the poetry, observations, rants, and drawings I’ve accumulated over the last 3+ years. It is not quite done because I am picky with it’s content.

I have a standard to which I hold “little black book” worthy work.

As a result, I forget a lot of what I’ve written, making the work’s rediscovery hilarious and invigorating. It’s like visiting your younger self. It’s my own little Doctor Who adventure.

(Yes, I am one of those.)

I may not have a TARDIS, but I do own several blue sweaters. I may not travel in time and discover/save new planets, but I do travel inside of myself and discover/save my sanity.

I think that’s pretty close, don’t you?

“Why is it that when I am assembly required,
When I lack make-up and feel like crap, that
More guys look at me?”