When you get to the point when you can't even call her because the sound of her voice will make you cry, you know you've got a problem.

Track back about a month ago. A big scary dude wearing a leather jacket and a t-shirt with a heavy metal band on it and the biggest boots you've ever seen is cuddled up to you on the sofa, watching Shallow Hal. He looks pretty tough, and even though you've not seen him angry you think he could probably lose it because of the weather. He's loud, he's weird, and for some reason you like him.
But he's a tough dude, or at least that's how he looks.
Because now, a little girl with burn marks on her face is on the TV. The guy next to you stops, stiffens up. He's suddenly stopped talking for what feels like months. He wipes his face. Is he crying?!


I've never liked to let people see me cry. If you're a friend of mine, whether you're from college or church or comic con, odds on you've never seen me cry. I don't like showing this, because A: It makes the person who made me cry feel stronger, and B: When a bloke cries then they must be weak.
Depression is an absolute bitch for these things. But the problem is that crying is so tightly wound to the media representation of depression that when someone with it isn't crying twenty four hours a day then they are instantly judged and accused of not really having it.

I'm not a weepy guy. In haven't truly had a good cry for a long time. Annoyingly I bottle it up without even trying to. But this is the problem. When I'm trying to bottle it, people don't take me seriously when I say I'm having a hard time, and when I cry in front of them they get scared and back off.
It's a fucking treadmill, I tell you.

Now, if you know me personally, it's no sodding secret that I've just broken up with my girlfriend.
This was a girl who I truly loved, someone I massively respected. I looked at her and saw sunshine. She was one of the few people who looked at me and didn't just see a big scary biker dude, but a bit of a softie. I worshipped this girl, and when I looked at her I saw absolute perfection made flesh. She was an intelligent, beautiful woman who I adored, she was absolutely amazing. I saw a huge future in this girl, and I was quite frankly happy to start it. But shit went down, and now, someone who's voice that used to make me instantly smile is now making me cry, and I can't even call her.

So what do I do? Do I risk being a softie and give in, or do I do what I'm expected to do, be a man and bottle it again. I really don't know. Although, I hope I find the strength to make the right decision.

Adventures In Fanboying

On Saturday 5^th of March 2016, one of my lifelong dreams came true.

We had planned a trip to Wales because my brother was going to be playing in the south of England basketball tournament, and my parents knew that we'd be going past Cardiff City Centre. This is where the popular BBC 1 television show Doctor Who if filmed, along with a museum of props and costumes from the TV show, with an interactive role-play adventure around the set, named The Doctor Who Experience.

Now, if you know me, you'll know that I am utterly obsessed with Doctor Who. I have watched the TV show since it came back, and by June 2007 I was a full-on fan. Well, not even a fan, but a complete fanatic. Through the years I have watched the show season by season, and I have also become of The Classic Series, the original series of Doctor Who. I actually prefer most of the classic series to the modern series that started in 2005. I know most facts about the show, and I have watched every episode of the modern series to this day (I still have a long way to go until I have watched every episode of the classic series).

I had known well for a long time the fact that Cardiff was a long way away, and that The Experience was probably a lot of money to get in. But, that did not stop my parents, as the opportunity was there, and they took it.

I was finally going to Cardiff, the place I had seen in Doctor Who and Torchwood episodes, and many other documentaries. I was finally going there.

I make Doctor Who fan films in my spare time, and I have a specific costume for my own Doctor. This consists of a long black trench coat, a red and white striped teeshirt, black faded jeans, and old beaten-up boots. I was originally going to go in the costume of Jon Pertwee, The Third Doctor, but it was not ready in time. It felt great to step onto the set and walk around monsters in my Doctor's costume, as if it was my Doctor's turn to take on the monsters properly.

After parking the car, we walked through Cardiff to find a big blue building. It was as long as an aircraft hanger and in the windows I could see life size Daleks. We walked through to meet the museum staff, who were quite clearly fans of the show, not just teenagers that wanted some dosh. I had great conversations as I walked through the Reception Room, and I then came across a replica of the first ever Tardis Exterior, a big blue police box with battered windows and a lamp. The windows seemed to have a glow about them, as if it was warm inside. I certainly felt a warmth when I walked through to the Museum Of Gallifrey. A lady dressed in a dark red robe greeted me and my family, and gave us a card with a translucent crystal connected to it. We watched a video about Gallifrey, The Doctor's home planet, which was narrated by Lalla Ward. I had previously met Lalla at a convention. It was brilliant to hear someone that I had met in a BBC video.

We walked through to The TARDIS Console Room itself, and lots of us got to fly it, after being spoked to by a recorded message from Peter Capaldi. We flew the TARDIS as it shuddered and sparked, and soon we 'landed' on Skaro, the planet of the Daleks. The Daleks came to life, we mamaged to escape, and then we found ourselves in a rather scary graveyard filled with Weeping Angels. We escaped them, and finally found ourselves in an old junk-yard in London, 1963 (look this up if you don't understand the reference!). We said goodbye to The Doctor, and I felt just as excited as I did when I first watched Christopher Eccleston take down The Daleks in 2005. I felt like young fan again.

Next was the museum of props, sets, and costumes all the way back from '63. I got to step through the original TARDIS console. It was beautiful and I was so happy to have stepped through the doors that actors like David Bradley and Mark Gatiss had stepped through. I was also excited to see the console from the 1980s. Actors including Peter Davison (whom I've met), Colin Baker (whom I've also met) and Sylvester McCoy (whom I'm yet to meet) had performed in from 1983. It was just amazing. I next saw one of the latest Tardises. This was the 2005 console room, the first TARDIS set that I had ever watched on TV. Standing where David Tennant and Christopher Eccleston had stood and given dramatic monologues was fascinating. I also got to see the 1980s Tardis Exterior and K9, one of my favourite companions.

When I got to the next floor it was full of Monsters. Not living breathing monsters, but the costumes and models that were used to make the terrifying and the not-so-terrifying monsters that I had watched in the show. I got to see aliens like The Sontarans, The Abzorbaloff, The Silence, and many many more. Next were the costumes that had been worn by companions, including the late Lis Sladen, one of my all time heroes. She had been in the kids spin off The Sarah Jane Adventures, which I had also watched religiously.

Long coats belonging to Jack Harkness and petticoats belonging to Romana were fantastic to see. And then, one of the highlights of The Experience, were each and every costume worn by each Doctor, from Hartnell to Capaldi. It was beautiful, especially to see Tom Baker's long scarf that looked as cuddly and warm as before. Whether it was Colin Baker's technicolour dreamcoat, or Paul McGann's Wild Bill Hickhock costume, I was astounded.

We walked through the props and costumes used in the latest series, and saw the creator of the Daleks, Davros. The next part was rather funny, as one of the staff recognised me from my YouTube channel. That was hilarious, and I never get recognised.

We walked through to the end of the museum, but it wasn't over, not yet.

A few of us were lead out of the museum, into the BBC Wales/Cymru centre, where they film Doctor Who. We were lead around the set for about half an hour, and then, finally, we were lead up the stairs to a very large set. It was the TARDIS. Not an old one, but the current one that they had used to this day. I opened the doors to see what I have watched on TV on Saturday nights. A warm, welcoming, and atmospheric room that I just marvelled at. To see so many buttons on the console, to see the work that had gone into it. I got to stand where Peter Capaldi himself had stood, giving dramatic monologues, fighting monsters, and teaching his companions a new way to live life.

Because that's what The Doctor had done for me. I would frequently be bullied at school, and I would go home to watch Doctor Who in my bedroom, and it gave me a chance to escape into a world of aliens and spaceships and good and bad. It had helped to to realise how big the universe is and how exciting life is, even if it is on Earth.

My dream had finally come true. I had walked where countless stars and icons had walked, seen costumes that TV legends had worn, stared at props that my heroes had handled. It was, as The Ninth Doctor would say, fantastic. And d'you know what? So was I!

(Pictures coming soon!)

The Young One - Short Story

Written By Reuben Roper

I am drowning in this awful silence. Guttering, choking, drowning. It's so dark. All I see is a white spotlight coming from my window, and that's all the light I have. My friends on the ropes above me are there. I try to call out to them, but I can't. The only sounds I make are mindless gurgles, and some sort of an alien language. It's like my lines haven't been written yet. Like I'm yet to begin my story.

A few months ago my life changed completely. For the first nine ages all I saw was darkness, and it was cosy and warm and I had all the food I wanted. And then suddenly-BANG! A bright light in my face, it's suddenly freezing cold, lots of people poking and prodding me. After being put in a warm blanket I was nestled down next to the nice lady , who seemed strangely familiar...

Now , I'm stuck, lying on my back, the people above me not giving me an answer, and above all, I'm hungry. Well, I know what to do.

I yell out (this usually works) and then the nice lady comes in with the liquid again. It's like a five star hotel! And just by crying! Imagine that, crying? Well I can definitely handle crying.

In the morning, I'm doing that consuming-thing again. It doesn't taste like much, but I guess it's what I need. Then the lady comes over with my best mate, Brian.

'What's this?!' she says. I try to say 'What do you think it is, you spanner, I've been sleeping with it for four months' , but all I could manage was a grunt.

Later , the nice lady has to go and do something else, so the older lady. I like her. She says 'Hello, sweetie pie!', and her Nice Man is older too. He's very funny, and the side of his head is all soft. Later on, I'm put into the metal things that vibrates, makes everything move around me (by the way, I'm sorry that I'm not very good with words or names, my lines haven't been written yet) . She leaves me with the lady with the different voice.

It's funny, now I think about it, but out of everyone who I know , even though she has a different voice, I understand her more than anyone. She says funny things, like 'dame un beso' and 'Agua' . When she says this, she gives me a kiss on the cheek and gives me a cup of that see-through liquid.

Later on, I go and see Leafy. Leafy is my special friend. She and her Nice Lady are friends with my Nice Lady. She is kind to me, a lot, and sometimes she holds my hand. She has the one name I remember. We go on little outings together, to that Lego fun-place. She sometimes tells me words, and I remember them, just like that!

One of the things I envy about Leafy is that she has a Nice Man. You know, the men-types that hang around with the Nice Lady people? I wish I had one of them . The Nice Lady's brother is sort of like a Nice Man. I can't remember what they are called. What are they called? Oh yes! That's it. Daddy's.

I saw something today. Something I haven't seen before. My reflection. I saw it in the roundy-roundy clothes-thing. I saw that the person in the reflection was moving at the exact same time as me. I realised that I was small, very small, about one or two feet. I had short hair, blue eyes, a button nose, and very small hands. This is what I saw.

I never knew I was so little. I thought I was so old. But then again, I used to think life was only nine months long. But now I'm thirsty. My Nice Lady isn't in the room, and I'm thirsty. I can't cry this time. Not this time, I'm too old for that. I'm a big boy now. Remember, remember what the lady with thee different voice taught me. Yes! I remember!

“Agua!”

Yes! I've finally said it!

“Agua!”

This is amazing! What a breakthrough. I need to say it louder. I need the Nice Lady to hear me so I can get it.

“Agua!!”

She comes speeding in. She looks so happy. She hugs me and praises me. I try to say “Look, I know it's a breakthrough, but I want my drink” , butt all I manage is a grunt. Well, I suppose Agua is good for now.

But now I know all the names, like Leafy told me. Mummy, Water, Biscuit. The Nice Lady taught me some words , too. Nana, Dapper, Benji, Dave. I like Dave. I'm sitting in some shop in the wheel-seat, talking to him. I'm asking him to be my Daddy.

Well, I don't know what will happen next. But apparently , I'm young, and I've got lots to come for me. I want to end up like Mummy and Daddy, and I think I want to do that pretending thing that Mummy does a lot. I like what is going on. But, if it's true what they say, life is only five years. I better make the most of it, and I'm enjoying it so far!

Poorly

Morning! You're probably imagining me saying morning in a happy, jumpy, excited way. That always happens with exclamation marks. But no, sorry guys, I'm not so good. I was a bit sick last night so I'm having a PJ's day. And I'm not so sure what to do today so I decided to write another blog post.

So this morning I was feeling a bit creative , and I wanted to make my own Doctor Who Action Figure. I have a lot of Doctor Who merchandise and I have a lot of Doctor Who action figures. I have also got a lot of Unofficial Doctor Who merch. I make my own DVD's of my own episodes. I have always wanted to make my own figure of myself. So , in the end I basically hacked up my Eighth Doctor figure, and all I have left is the head. Oh well, I think I'm going to design it first.

Anyway, I'm also trying to write my new series of Doctor Who, as I have released a brand new episode onto YouTube. I'm not sure what to do, partly as I don't have a very good camera (hoping to get a new one for Xmas) but still, I'm now going to tell you what happens when I'm poorly.

So, when I've been sick, or had a cough, or whatever, I'm not really allowed to eat, which I think is pretty good, seeing as my body probably can't take it. Mum will go and do the school run , and when she gets back I take my bed-covers down to the sofa, and we watch something like The Wright Stuff or Loose Women. Not the best of TV but it still makes me feel little. I always want to watch Jeremy Kyle but I don't usually get to. Its Mum's choice when I'm ill.

At eleven I usually try to have some toast, and if I keep that down then I get to have lunch, which is usually something like soup or baked beans on toast, or just some sandwiches. I then go on to maybe watch a film or something like that.

Usually I get better within about 24 hours , but if not , I stay at home. This morning I did try to do some maths, I did that for about an hour, and now I'm onto this :).
So , sorry if this has been a little boring, I'm just a little bored myself . Hope you enjoyed this, I'll be seeing you soon.

Love, Roo xxx

God Hates Goths?

Hello fellow bloggers! How are you all doing?
I can't hear you , and I'm not listening. No, I'm joking. I can hear you. So I've been doing very well at the mo, but a few days ago I was browsing on the net for Gothic News, all about the subculture(If you're new to this blog then you'll find out by strolling down that I am a bit of a goth and I have a soft spot for the gothic subculture), and I ran into this website called 'GodHatesGoths.com'.

http://www.godhatesgoths.com/

Well , for starters , this was a big no-no in my book. I was deeply offended just by the name , and then I stupidly read on. It had some very interesting 'information' of the goth subculture and I can at least say that this blogger hasn't done any research. This is how it all started:

''GOTH IS A SICK, DEPRAVED AND VIOLENT SUB-CULTURE. IT IS A SUB-CULTURE IMMERSED IN THE OCCULT, VAMPIRISM, WITCHCRAFT, DEATH, HORROR, RAPE, SUICIDE AND PERVERSITY.

WHILE ALL SUB-CULTURES ARE INHERENTLY BAD, GOTH IS THE WORST OF THESE SUB-CULTURES. BY DEFINITION THEY ARE “SUB” (ie. LOWER OR INFERIOR) TO NORMAL HARD-WORKING CULTURES. AS IN ‘SUB-STANDARD’ CULTURE. THEY DO NOT PROMOTE ANY VALUES THAT BENEFIT SOCIETY. THEY DO NOT PROMOTE ANY VALUES THAT MAKE FOR STABLE FAMILIES. THEY DO NOT PROMOTE VALUES THAT POTENTIAL EMPLOYERS FIND APPEALING. NO FORTUNE 500 COMPANIES WANTS TO EMPLOY SOME DRUGGED-UP LOSER WITH PAINTED NAILS, NOSE-PIERCINGS, TATTOED ARMS OR GREEN HAIR.''

Well, there are certainly alot of things I could correct him on, but luckily enough I am not a correction-Nazi. I would just like to say how this has deeply offended me, and I can tell you alot of good things about Goth's. 

I know plently of people who are goths and have jobs. Being a goth isn't exactly cheap, with the black teeshirts, spiked collars, studded belts, and skinny jeans. I know goths who give reading lessons to children. I'm a goth myself , and I volunteer at the foodbank. I personally know two very nice goth girls, one who is very hard working and who I could easily see as a psychiatrist, and another who is homeschooled and quite frankly hilarious.

I looked up the person who wrote this article and made this website, and his name is Reverend R.G Green. My opinion is that he is scared of any originality and imaginative ideas on this rock that we call Earth. I think he is a sick, failed experiment that the goverment tried to make to stamp out any originality. He has taken this way too far. Take a look at this extract.

'' I recently had a grieving mother mail me, to enquire where her 14 year old daughter's soul was. Her daughter was a Goth, and an open Wiccan and vampire. She had abandoned the Church, turned her back on God and embraced Satanism with both hands. At the tender age of 12 because she had thrown it all away because of so-called harmless books such as Harry Potter, which leads children into the 'exciting' world of magic - and away from God. Though her daughter was a self-confessed 'witch' when she died, her mother was foolish enough to tell me her daughter was with the angels. Of course this angered me greatly, and I wrote back to tell her exactly where her filthy daughter’s soul was. Burning for eternity in eternal torment in the fires of Hell, suffering for all time because of this so-called 'harmless life-style choice'. ''

I'm sorry but that is just sick. Telling a person who has lost their baby that their child's soul is burning in the depths of hell is just disgusting. This man has said that the Goth subculture is a cancer and that goths are more dangerous to children than pedophiles. If you pardon the word, but what I load of absolute crap. This man seriously needs to understand what goth really is , and if he calls himself a christian then he seriously needs some counseling.

I'm really sorry for my rant but I am truly passionate about this and I hope I do not find a website like this again. But what is your approach to this? Do you agree? Or are you slightly scared by goths, because if you are that's okay. Its purely a matter of opinion. 

Thank you very much for reading, and have a great weekend. 

Meeting Myself

(We pan into the bedroom window of Reuben's Room. Its a messy pig-stye covered in Doctor Who DVDs , Posters , and other Memorabilia. Reuben is sitting up, playing on his new phone when he's supposed to be having a lie-in like his mother told him to. He looks at the photo's of his past self on his wall . He sips from the cup of tea that is on his desk. And suddenly he spills it all over his lap, saying the worst words he could think of.)
REUBEN: Son of a Nutcracker!
(A small skinny boy in a black futuristic cape and mask is in the room.)
REUBEN: Who are you?
BOY: I'm your past self. Don't you recognize me? Scruffy long hair, bluey-green eyes, covered in sellotape from making things, dressed in a Darth Vader costume?
REUBEN: Oh.
BOY: Ring any bells?
REUBEN: Ah. Well how did you get there?
(The boy gives Reuben a what-do-you-think look)
REUBEN: David Tennant turned up?
BOY: Yeah.
REUBEN: So, I'm guessing you wanted some advice for the future. I'm guessing from those red eyes that you've just come back from school. Bully trouble?
BOY: No. Okay yes. How did you know?
REUBEN: Duh, I'm your future self.
BOY: Ieuan said that Doctor Who isn't real. I think he is.
REUBEN: Of course he is.
BOY: And he said the TARDIS will run out of petrol. But that can't happen because the TARDIS will go on forever.
REUBEN: Yes. He's still on now.
BOY: Really!
REUBEN: Yeah! Guess what! David Tennant comes back in 2013.
BOY: David Tennant leaves?! Oh no.
REUBEN: And so does Rose.
(The boy looks stroppy. He soon calms down.)
REUBEN: So you wanted advice. What do you want advice on?
BOY: Maths. I don't understand it. Mum says I still haven't learnt my number-bonds . But I don't even know what they are!
REUBEN: It's easy. One add Nine is Ten. Two add Eight is-
BOY: You sound like Mummy. What did you do to your hair?
REUBEN: I've dyed it! I did it on holiday in Swanage.
BOY: You look like a girl.
REUBEN: Says you, with your long hair! I wouldn't worry though, everyone will have it like that soon. Even Harry Potter!
BOY: I'm not allowed to watch Harry Potter because of the scary dog in Prisoner of Azbin.
REUBEN: Azkaban.
BOY: Whatever. What about other stuff in Maths?
REUBEN: Well, when you get to year Six you start learning about this thing called Algebra.
BOY: Algy bra?
REUBEN: No,  algebra.
BOY: Whatever.
REUBEN: But it puts letters and numbers together.
BOY: My worst nightmare. Except from losing my Sonic Screwdriver.
REUBEN: Don't worry, you'll get another one. A better one.
BOY: Okay then. Oh, and that's the other thing.
REUBEN: What?
BOY: Girls.
(A long pause.)
REUBEN: Ah. Well don't go out with them. Not until you're Sixteen.
BOY: But I'm only eight!
REUBEN: No way. No girls. Listen to Beth Teo! She will tell you not to have a girlfriend, but if you do it's got to last five years.
BOY: But India is so-
REUBEN: Shh!Oh yeah. I just want to say. I know how you feel about your Dad.
(He sits next to him.)
REUBEN: You don't have to be scared of him. He won't do anything. He's just a silly man.
BOY: I wish my step Dad would really be my Dad.
(A single tear drops from Reuben's face. )
REUBEN: Oh mate. He is.
(They have a long hug)
BOY: Will I be a big film maker when I'm older?
REUBEN: Yep. And you'll have a laptop and a camera, and even a TARDIS!
BOY: Cool!
REUBEN: And the best part is that you'll have friends .
BOY: Really?
(The boy is utterly taken aback.)
BOY: I don't believe you.
REUBEN: You will. I promise. And soon you'll be having a big party with them. A grown-up party!
BOY: Awesome.
(He hears the sound of the TARDIS from outside.)
BOY: Oh. I better go.
REUBEN: Just so you know , you'll be taller than Mummy soon.
BOY: Oh yeah, I forgot to say, I taught Indy to say 'Bottom'!
REUBEN: Haha, nice one.
(They give each other a high five.)
BOY: It's been great meeting you.
REUBEN: It's been good to meet you too.
(The boy starts walking to the door.)
REUBEN: Oh. And one more thing. Spend more time with Jacob. He'll be a great mate.
BOY: Okay.
(He goes to the door.)
BOY: Thank you.
(He walks out. The wheezing groaning sound of The TARDIS leaves the room. Reuben goes back to his business as if nothing had happened.)


Written by Reuben Roper, aged 13. 

Angry At Moffat

Is there anything you loved that changed and now you are grieving over it? Well I am. I don't like change. One thing you won't know about me is that I am autistic, and autistic people don't like change at all. So heres one of the things that's been stressing me out.

I'm really angry at Steven Moffat, the current script writer of Doctor Who. I have been for a while now. And in my quest to show the level of unhappiness I'm likely to use what I would call timelord insults, and I just want to check that this reader would hopefully understand these insults. So , if you don't watch Doctor Who, then I would advise you to stop reading right now. Go and have your lovely beans on toast.

So here's why I am angry at Steven Moffat.
You see, when Matt Smith came in , I never really liked it. It wasn't the same as Russell T. Davies (the previous writer, who does indeed have a his photo on my Doctor Who Shrine) . Russell gave it fun, and curiosity , and it was just great . I felt welcome in the show of Doctor Who, partly because David Tennant was my Doctor(The current Doctor at that time), and partly because the writing was just so brilliant.

But then, Moffat had to change the opening titles and music. And that's another thing. The title music at the beginning of the theme , during the dum-de-dum's...What was that? It sounded like death music! It sounded awful. And then they had to keep it for years and it was just awful. But that isn't the reason.

And THEN, Moffat got rid of his Doctor Who godson, no not the crack in time, but Matt Smith's eleventh Doctor! Don't get me wrong, I can't wait for Peter Capaldi, he's already coming up to being one of my favourites just from the trailers. But as soon as I got used to Matt, he had to leave. I remember watching his regeneration of Christmas eve, and afterwards no tears came out so I just stared into space feeling my heart crack into pieces. But that isn't why I'm angry at him either.

Here is why I'm angry at him.
On December 4th, I read in Radiotimes that Matt Smith was suddenly the thirteenth Doctor. WHAT? Sorry , but in MY version of Doctor Who on YouTube (Comment , rate , and subscribe) I portray The Thirteenth Life Of The Timelord. I'm sorry, Mr Moffat , but what gives you the right to mess with my show? Will you be using YouTube Video Downloader , and editing out whole scenes of my episodes?!I think I ought to write him a letter:

Dear Steven Moffat,(or should I say Idiot Moffat)
Why on earth have you made the eleventh the thirteenth?
It's all about You You You , isn't it?
Axing Matt Smith's Doctor and his stupid floppy hair.
You Suck ! You Suck! YOU REALLY REALLY REALLY SUCK!
Yours sincerely, Mr .J. Peoplelikemeactuallyexist

Okay. That was a bit scary. Lets just say that I forgot to take my anti-Depressant today. That was a bit off. Just so you know I may be like this a lot. I'm very sorry , Mr Moffat. If I meet you one day this will be very awkward . Please don't stop me from being in Doctor Who as ManShotByDalek. Thank you whovians.