Neverland

I don't want to grow up.

I don't mean that I wish to forever remain eighteen. Much as I love it here, I don't want to be in college forever. I do want to get older, gain experience, go on with my life, do things, learn things, meet people. I just don't want to grow up.

I don't want to lose the child-like joy I find in simple things. I don't ever want to feel like I can't play. I don't want to give in to the idea that, because I am a grown-up, I cannot play certain games, watch certain movies, or read certain books.

I don't want to grow up.

I want to read books all day, carefree. I want to play pretend games. I want to take my plastic, collapsible lightsaber and have a duel with my Big in the middle of campus. I want to be silly and stupid in ways that won't ruin my life. I want to play videogames and board games and watch Disney movies.

I want to remain a child.

Some days, I stop for a moment and I think about what I've done. Today, I worked in a theatre for four hours. I did my homework. I had a meeting about housing for next semester. I got my medication. I signed up for an Amazon selling account, so I can get rid of my textbooks. I made appointments for tests. I made a doctor's appointment. I have nothing but responsible. On days like those, I feel proud of myself. I have managed, so far, to stay afloat in a world that rejects people like me: the depressed, the socially anxious and backwards, the troubled, the lost. But, too, I feel disappointed. I look at my accomplishments, my adult-ness. and I'm sad, because, in all that responsibility, I haven't truly done a thing for myself. I haven't read, I haven't written, I haven't drawn, I haven't played.

On these days, I have grown up. I am not a child.

I don't want that. I accept that, to be totally independent of my parents for the rest pf my life, I have to be responsible. I have to make and keep appointments, work, take care of myself. I understand that I have to be an adult. But I want to be able to stay child-like, at the same time.

It's a matter of happiness. Children are happy with small accomplishments, with little things. Most children are easy to please: a little attention, a small gift, a short, silly story, and they are content. That is what I want. I want to remain easy to please. I want to keep my happiness at a nice day, a new book, a random hug from a friend.

And I want to be able to cry. I have been told that I am a rock, a source of strength for my friends. Much as I love that, I want it to be okay for me to break, to fall apart. I don't want always to have to hold myself together, until I am so fragile that the smallest touch will shatter me. I want the option of a good, therapeutic cry when I need it. I want be able to throw a fit, to punch pillows and break things, because it makes me feel better.

I want the option of being childish. I don't want that door closed to me. I promise to be responsible, to think and to do the right thing, but I want to be a child sometimes, too.

In the words of the good Doctor, there's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes.

The Adventures of the Whovian Shelf: Revenge

Nine and Ten did eventually discover the switch.  Revenge was subtle.

The Adventures of the Whovian Shelf: Pants

Eight learned that the hiring of midget ninjas greatly enhances pranks

The Adventures of the Whovian Shelf: Down The....WHAT?

While nicking Ten's sonic had been hilarious, convincing Alice that Wonderland was in the make-up bag was kind of cruel.

The Adventures of the Whovian Shelf: The Trouble with Duplicate Sonics

After nicking Ten's sonic and passing it off to Nine, Eight proceeded to convince both of them that the screwdriver did, indeed, belong to Nine

The Adventures of the Whovian Shelf: Celery

It was all fun and games 'til Five hit Nine in the face with the celery

The Adventures of the Whovian Shelf: Cross-Fandom Party

Out of everyone there, Four was the only one who noticed Alice.  Granted, Eleven might have as well, but River had kidnapped him early on.

The Adventures of the Whovian Shelf: Where Are You?

"Amy?  Rory?  Did you get sucked into a dollhouse again?"

The Adventures of the Whovian Shelf: The Most Popular Boy in Class

When he met his Fifth Incarnation, he didn't realize that all the others had joined his fanclub and were waiting to meet him.

The Adventures of the Whovian Shelf: Nearly Deadly

Pubbing and clubbing was more fun that he remembered, and the couch was just as nice as Rose had assured him.  Their only mistake was doing it on a night Jackie would be home.

The Adventures of the Whovian Shelf: The Forest, Plus a Screwdriver

Everything was going well enough until Voldemort realized giants don't normally wear bowties.

Fortunately for him, the sonic doesn't do wood.

...........SHUT UP RORY.

Welcome, My Dear Readers

 The TARDIS and a couple Daleks at Chicago TARDIS

...to the Adventures of the Whovian Shelf!

It's a misnomer.  Swear to god, it's not just Doctor Who.  Why?  Because I have Harry Potter LEGOs, a Pokemon, a dragon statue, several rubber ducks, a house made of popsicle sticks, and a ninja.  Why, then, is it called the Whovian Shelf?  Well, because there are eleven Doctor Who figurines.

Go figure.

There may be a plastic sparklepire added in the future.  No promises, because I'm poor.

Anyway, a bit of background for he start of this project:

It's a different option for my English class.  We're supposed to take a picture a day for three weeks.  I decided to theme mine.  After several discarded ideas including The Adventures of God this is what I decided on.

Tune in tomorrow for the first Adventure!