Doctor Who: Season six and my Tarditis
I've written another article for a Sci-Fi Now competition (I am doing proper writing projects too but I think these articles are good practice!). This one is a review of Doctor Who: Season 6. Here it is:
It was near the end of Doctor Who season six that I knew I'd developed Tarditis.
I’m not sure which episode it was but in it, I saw a big surprise and, in a moment of chlling awareness, realised I wasn’t surprised at all. The event had already happened for me, somehow, maybe even several times. I didn't know what to think. Was the episode a relic from the past, or was I?
It was even worse when the Doctor looked like he was going to die. I like regenerations; they’re weirdly religious. There’s this supernatural guy who’s full of love, saves everyone and is killed but he regenerates and lives on, having conquered time and space, ready to help anyone in need. But this time, I didn’t care. He’d become omnipotent. Nothing could affect him. He’ll always be alive at some point in time forever; I’d learnt that much through his time jumping. The worst thing was, his invincibility had made him an alien in my eyes. I admit, he is an alien, but this time he felt like an alien. For goodness sake, not only can he regenerate but he’s able to save the Universe! If he dies, or doesn’t die, or anything, it’s as significant as the sun setting. It’s only going to rise again the next morning.
I realised I had all the symptoms of Tarditis; an inability to care, a terrible feeling that I’d seen it all before, the knowledge that the other side of the Tardis door contained nothing but confusion and alienation. I had what the Doctor has always fought off and often succumbed to; Tarditis. If left unchecked, it would make me callous, aloof and jaded. My Doctor Who future looked bleak.
I confessed about my growing Tarditis to a friend. She recommended I watch ‘The Sarah Jane adventures’ as a form of therapy. It worked. Sarah Jane was a normal, vulnerable human being trying her best with limited resources, working with youngsters who were happy to be with her, who knew she needed their help. No Tardis. No Tarditis. All my enthusiasm came back. The future didn’t just look rosy, it looked completely and utterly unknown.