Should I hold my beer all fancy like you?

Sometimes I think about myself when I'm 30 or 40 or 50 and I think about all the things that I could be doing and all the things I could be and all the awesome things I will achieve.

But I forget that I have to work to get those things.

I can't just expect to suddenly have a famous play on the West End. I would need to spend time in rehearsals but before that I would need to find actors but before that I would need to get a director to like my play but before that I would need to network to find people in the industry but before that I would need to move to London but before that I would need to arrange to move to England but before that I would need to save enough money to move to England but before that I would need to have graduated from at least a grad school but before that I would need to go to grad school but before that I would need to get into grad school but before that I would need to save money to go to grad school.

But before any of this, I would need to actually write a good play.

Instead I'm sitting in front of the television watching The Social Network wishing I was witty and blogging because I tried to write something and I couldn't even come up with more Firefly fan fiction.

I don't even wish I could just blink and be a playwright or casting director, I just wish I could stop having writer's block. Or at least stop using writer's block as an excuse for my laziness.

I know I just got a job and I'm getting used to be an Adult so I should probably cut myself some slack and realize that I'm working 45 hour weeks sometimes 6 days a week at weird hours and I'm trying to get myself in better shape and eat more healthily which takes a considerable amount of time out of the day. Along with trying to get used to a new town and find friends and be more than a recluse.

But I think I'm freaking myself out because I'm turning 23 and somehow in my mind that's one step away from 30 and I want to at least have achieved some kind of dream by the time I'm that old.

I hate it when my characters just want to become recluses and not do anything. Why are my characters a mirror of me? Where's the fun in that?

I hate writer's block.

"Expecting an epic ending, most underdogs end up not winning."

I wouldn't mind if my things were published or produced anonymously or with a pen name, or if I just sat in the very back of the theatre and wasn't allowed to tell anyone it was mine.

I really wouldn't.

Because when I watch a really great film or see a really great play or read a really great book or listen to a really great song, I feel inspiration with every second. And I know how wonderful that feels, how it's like breathing in the freshest air imaginable.

And I would feel like I've done something worthwhile if I could see the look on just one person's face when they left the theatre of my play or finished reading my short story. That look that tells me they are going to go home and create something wonderful themselves, be it a work of fiction or a piece of pottery or compose a song or even just knit a beautiful pair of socks, all because they saw my things and were inspired to create themselves.

That's all the fame I'd ever want.

"Of course it's you."

WARNING: the title here is from the episode of Doctor Who, when The Doctor opens his hotel room door and sees whatever scares him the most and utters these words. What follows here is a bit of a ramble about Doctor Who and how I strangely connect it to my relationship with God.

I just watched the last Doctor Who and I need to get this all out before I forget it and the feeling's past.

I'm choosing to believe that Amy finds Rory after both of them search for a long time and they know that they can get through anything together because they have gotten through everything together and that's how strong love is when it is pure and right and a good thing.

And I know that River will be all right because she knows how wonderful her parents truly were and that they loved her and would have done anything for her and she would have done anything for them and that's enough to get her through anything because love is that strong.

But I can't believe that the Doctor will be all right.

I know it's just a television show and Moffat is a crazy man with a pen and sometimes I don't know how he can bear his own mind because it must be a sad and wonderful and brilliant and depressing and intense thing for him to create things like Doctor Who and Sherlock. But I think even fiction has an element, or rather lots of elements, of truth to it.

We, each and every one of us, in some way or another, understand what the Doctor is going through because we have all lost someone through either anger or death or stupidity or just time passing and we know that we will never see them again while we're alive and maybe not even when we're dead.

But what I think absolutely broke my heart when watching the last episode was that I could feel the Doctor's pain so much more than I ever could. When he was screaming and begging Amy not to leave him, he wasn't just talking to her. He was talking to Rose and Donna and Martha and every companion he's ever had who have, for one reason or another, left him. And he was tired of being left and ultimately being alone.

Sometimes I think Sherlock had it right when Moffat wrote the line for him: "Alone is what I have, alone protects me."

Because we're ultimately alone in the end, anyways, right? No matter how hard we love or how often we love, or even how hard we hate or whatever, ultimately we die alone, right?

Wrong.

I cannot believe this is correct.

Sitting on Jennifer's couch in our living room, listening to beautiful and depressing music by Yo-Yo Ma, I refuse to believe that this is correct.

I know it's weird to turn a Doctor Who television episode that is not real life into something spiritual and relevant, but I guess I can't help it. That's just in my blood. So I'm sorry if it offends or you think that I'm being dramatic or making something into a big deal, but that's the only way my mind knows how to work.

What I got from this episode is what Doctor Who ultimately is; it's a story about a man who never dies and is ultimately alone and tries to pretend like this doesn't bother him but in the end it hits him in the face and he doesn't know how to deal with it.

But I do.

Because I know that no matter who dies or what happens to the world or how many depressing or romantic films I watch try to tell me, even when I'm completely and totally alone, I'm not alone.

Someone, Someone with a capital S, made me.

I didn't just appear on earth because my parents gave birth to me. I appeared because my Creator decided to make me.

And He's not just Up Somewhere eating popcorn and watching us all like we're a movie. He is active. He wants to interact with us.

Why else would anyone make something?

You don't make something to just do nothing and do nothing for you. No one has ever done that. You make something to please you.

He made me to please Him. But more than that, He made me to give me the choice to please Him or not.

And by His grace and making my brain somehow realize all of this, I choose to do that. I choose to believe that He is real and interacts with me in the most real way ever. I choose to believe that He created others for me to interact with as they please or choose to not please Him.

But as I'm writing this, I realize something else.

Not even He is alone. There are three of Him in His Oneness.

That means that He understands how horrible and deadly being truly alone is, so not even the Creator of all things, the Ultimate Master (to borrow a Doctor Who term) is alone.

The only way as a human being could ever not ultimately be alone is by choosing to please Him and invite Him to be in my life that He created.

I don't understand in this moment how anyone can consciously decide to not accept Him because they are ultimately alone and if the Creator cannot even be alone, how do they possibly think they can do it?

For a long time, I've thought of Hell quite differently than most people. I've not thought of Hell as being a fiery pit where Satan congregates all those who choose not to accept Him.

I've thought of it as complete and utter blackness. Aloneness.

I've thought that if you choose to ignore Him, He will actively still pursue you throughout your life because He doesn't want you to be in this blackness and aloneness. But when your life ends and you're still ignoring Him, there is nothing left for Him to do.

So because you said you didn't want Him and He won't change your mind for you, you get exactly what you asked for.

You get nothingness for forever. You are alone in blackness, completely void of everything God. Because it's what you chose.

The reason I think of this as Hell is because that is what scares me to the depths of myself. And that to me is what Hell should be.

Going back to Doctor Who, I wondered for a long time what I would see in my hotel room in that one episode where everyone's greatest fear is in their room. I thought maybe it would be a demonic horror movie or a room where bugs crawl all over me and I can never get them off or all the friends I've ever hurt congregating to talk about how terrible a person I am or something along those lines.

But I don't think any of that is what it would be.

I think if I saw my room, it would be a completely blank, dark, empty space with nothing. I think if I looked into my room, I would see this image of what I think Hell is. A place empty of everything God.

Thank God that He has given me a brain that realizes this and loves me in a way that surpasses Rory and Amy or River and The Doctor's love that He will give me every chance in life to avoid my hotel room.

I'm sorry for all of that. I know from getting on tumblr that this is probably not the response I'm supposed to have from watching Doctor Who.

I'm supposed to curl up in a little ball with my shock blanket and a tub of ice cream and weep and shout Moffat's name over and over again and have my friends pat my hand and say, "There, there."

I'm not supposed to watch it and think, "I cannot express how thankful I am to my Creator that He has given me the choice to avoid my hotel room of Hell."

Oh well.

I've never really thought normal, and I think this just proves it.