Torchwood - To the Last Man

...I can't. I actually can't. If I start typing I will never stop, and it will be capslocked, and it will contain numerous recurrences of the letter "e".

Also, I may start crying.

God, I'm so immature.

Re: My previous post.

I may or may not have used a stream of swearwords, pounded the laptop in frustration, then started crying.

Fuck it; what the hell is University going to be like if I can't cope with this?

Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks. I have a large Pride and Prejudice essay to finish, a house to comb for Drama props, countless other things to prepare for, and that pesky internet is luring me in with its countless gems of wonder.

As is John Barrowman's autobiography, which I bought earlier today.

God. I should have a stronger will than this. Why on earth did Torchwood have to start in the midst of a schoolwork pile-up? I feel like my head's about to explode.

I keep saying to myself that if I manage to meet him in April, I'll chide him for exacerbating my procrastination. But that's shite, really, because I'll just end up stammering and may accidentally hug him without saying anything.

MUST GET BACK TO IT.

(Also, the "z" key on my keyboard isn't working particularly well. I AM DOING A PRIDE AND PREJUDICE ESSAY. This does not bode well.)

Heath Ledger dead at twenty-eight.

I know this isn't the sort of story that should really rattle my nerves, but...Jesus. Twenty-eight? And Christ, what was he doing? Drug overdose?

I still have a poster of Brokeback Mountain on my bedroom wall.

God, I spent all that time obsessing over Brokeback Mountain, and admiring him and Jake Gyllenhaal, and wishing that I could meet them and thank them for affecting me so much, and now this happens. My stomach gave an odd lurch when I saw the headline and it still feels incredibly weird. He's got a little daughter, as well; she's two years old, poor thing.

(I shouldn't be affected by this, I know, I'm not one for obsessing over celebrity deaths, but that film and its cast was so ingrained in my consciousness that I've never really forgotten it. If I look back over the blog I'll find dozens of references to him.)

I'd better go to bed.

Oh dear.

I may or may not have watched this scene about twenty times since I first watched the episode.

Gah.

The high-frequency pitch sounds have gone by now, but...hmm.

Coherency and rationality pending. Watch this space.

Right.

According to my laptop, it is 21:49. I have been sitting doing English homework whilst the Torchwood fandom melts beneath me. Or above me. Anyhow, it's somewhere where I'm not. Frankly, I think I've shown remarkable self-restraint.

(I couldn't see the start of the episode because I was out at Tae Kwon Do.)

Homework is done, floor will be cleared momentarily, the mobile is next to me (I already have two texts from different people in capitals, to which I responded, "For God's sake, don't tell me anything!"), and the DVD has done its magic. Hopefully. If it hasn't recorded I will kick the sodding thing.

21:51.

Here goes nothing, people. I'm about to step into the pathetic flaily fangirly abyss. Wish me luck!

(I'll be back with a reaction soon.)

WHAT?

Oh, come on!

...or am I the only one?

Hello there, you insanely brilliant piece of work!

I am officially squeed and flailed out since finding out about this this morning.

I know it's sad.

But I don't really care.

TWO MORE WEEKS.

*goes back to doing something more important*