Freud vs. Wells

Hey, gang, take a knee.

I am certain that I will get to a riveting post (or at least the riveting portion of this post) soon enough this evening. However, before I do so, I have some... disturbing news for you. But, hey, I don't want to give it all away right off the bat. Here, just take a look at this picture. WARNING: THIS PICTURE MAY SHOCK YOU.

NOT A GRAPH!

 Now, I'm assuming most of you can handle a line graph like that. For those of you that can't, I will do my best to explain with minimal snark. The y-axis (the line going up and down) indicates page views of my blog (which I assume you are reading right now, given that you're reading this sentence). The x-axis (the one going left to right) indicates the time at which these page views occurred.

Now, clearly there have been a lot of views in November (or, rather, Novemblog), because I've been doing a post a day for the last twenty-five days now. That's as many as five fives! And that's terrible. I've also accumulated a goodly few more readers of this blog, and that's always pretty groovy. But we're not looking at November right now. See, when was my first post? If you're looking at the graph, you might think, well obviously it was late November or early December 2009. You know what I was doing in late November or early December 2009?

Right after I asked a question, too. Skills with a z.

"Well, okay, Rob. You were a terrible student who made terrible decisions. We knew this. Why is this disturbing?"

Wh- Bu- No. No, you are quite incorrect. I was a good student who made well-reasoned decisions. I was doing a chemistry major and a French minor. I wanted to have more time for research in the spring semester, so I took five classes rather than the usual four to finish up my minor and core requirements. Yes, this meant that I pulled a bunch of all-nighters (especially with my attempt to apply to MD/PhD programs then). It was the right decision, and how DARE you judge me for making that choice. I mean, what the fuck? (OH NO ROB MADE A SWEAR. OH LORD HAVE MERCY IT'S A SWEAR. NOBODY HAS TIME FOR THAT.) Here you are, just chilling out in my subconscious, and I give you a chance to make it into the blog. Do you know how many parts of my subconscious don't even get that chance? There's Libido, Teen Angst, Family Issues, and, of course, Super-Id. I gave you a shot to make it onto the page, and you just blew it. What makes you think you're better than Super-Id? Super-Id is a saint and is STILL more fun than you. We went out drinking just the other night. Where were you? "Oh, hurdy gurdy, I'm the dick Neuroses part of your subconscious, and I'm going to stay at home and think of witty retorts to you whenever you leave me an opening to make myself seem better than you." Shut the fuck up. Get out of here, because nobody likes you, and you smell.

Well, um. I wouldn't want to be a part of any club that would have you as a member, Rob, because you have minimal social skills with women. Take that.

 And based on that caption, you also are incapable of ad libbing. Get out of here, because nobody wants you here, and I think it's high time we move on from this argument with you. You're not worth it.

Anyway. Yes. The reason for that information being disturbing. Well, go to the nice little set of options on the right. Yeah, the one with the months in French and the years and the whatnot. Go on ahead and find the earliest post.

Okay, or I can just post it here for you. Ta freaking da. Rackum frackum can't even find the first entry rackum frackum.

Now, take a look at the date of that post. Why, it's around Christmas, so December. Of 2010.

This- I- Wha- ILLOGICAL. IT'S ALL ILLOGICAL.

So, what could be going on here?

Well, the obvious response is time travel (because setting computer calendars to different dates is utterly impossible. Plus, you would think that the servers would have clocks that would have the right year). BUT WHO?

Well, obviously. And no.

Okay, so future people and/or aliens are looking at my blog. But to what purpose? Let's take a peek at some of the potential options out there.

1.) I am William S. Preston, Esq. AND Theodore Logan.

Quiet, Ted half.

For those of you that don't understand this reference, there were some movies (and comics, and a TV show) about Bill and Ted and their various adventures. See, because they formed a band called Wyld Stallyns, they were able to create music that brought a new era of peace and enlightenment to the world. To prevent history from preventing itself from occurring (and now I'm all cross-eyed), the future sends George Carlin to give them a time machine (and seven dirty words, I suppose) so they can do their history homework. It's... surprisingly good.

Anyway, this theory would maintain that I do something SO awesome that time travelers are keeping tabs on me, but not SO awesome that I get a time machine of my own (just yet). But when I do, oh HO, you'd better watch out, Rosalind Franklin, because I'm buying you a few drinks, you underappreciated minx.

You can interpret MY crystal structure utilizing space groups. Rawr.

However, the problem here is that there's really no reason to avoid giving me that time machine right now. Heck, if I know what they need me to do in the future, then I can make plans to make that happen. I have little doubt that I'm better equipped for the task than Alex Winters and Keanu Reeves (with all due respect to Keanu- he seems like he could use a nice break. You seem like a good guy, Keanu, and you've done some pretty good movies. You can come with me on a time traveling adventure).

2.) I am John Connor (or Sarah Connor)

Okay, if you aren't at least passingly familiar with the Terminator franchise, I can't do much to help you here. You're pretty much on your own. Basically, machines go back to kill this one guy at various points (i.e., pre-conception/in utero, as an annoying teenaged skateboarder hacker, and as Nick Stahl).

Robert Patrick is disappointed in your lack of knowledge.

So, apparently, I save the future somehow? Or I'm a direct ancestor to said savior, and taking me out of the picture will cause minimal damage to the likelihood of emergence of the parties that said savior opposes? Well, regardless-in our case, I guess that Skynet really has shoddy access to records? Or that the records can be transported through time? Either way, this means that there's a killer robot on the loose. I guess I'll have to stick around dogs (because they can sense that business, because they're dogs. No word on cats. Cats probably know but want to see you fight it out for their amusement.), and maybe I'll have to find whatever human/android/cyborg they've sent back to protect me. I mean, they WOULD send someone back to protect me, right? Right?

Welp. I'm thoroughly screwed.

Ahem. Well. THANK GOODNESS I TOOK THAT TRIP TO JAPAN AND LEFT ALL THOSE GENETIC SAMPLES NEAR FUKUSHIMA. IT WOULD CERTAINLY BE A SHAME IF ANY TIME-TRAVELING ENTITIES (MECHANICAL OR OTHERWISE) WERE TO SEND WAVE AFTER WAVE OF FORCES IN THERE ON MARCH 11, 2011, TO RETRIEVE AND/OR DESTROY SAID GENETIC MATERIAL. THEN ALL HOPE WOULD BE LOST.

(Let's hope their records are REALLY bad.)

3.) I'm the next Rory Williams/Amy Pond/Donna Noble/Martha Jones/(sigh) Rose Tyler/Sarah Jane Smith/Captain Jack Harkness

Or, you know, save lives. Like I'll be doing. No big deal, though.

Or whatever other Companion you happen to like. And no, I'm not talking about Inara.

Although... On the other hand, let's talk about Inara.

No, we're talking about The Doctor, so you'll just have to wait your turn. I'm not sure if this would mean that The Doctor is coming to find me based on this blog, or if Future-Rob (possibly without facial hair but WITH a badass scar or cybernetic hand) is traveling with The Doctor and mentioned this blog, which in turn tickled The Doctor's fancy. I'm not entirely sure as to why, but hey, who's to argue with the TARDIS?

Yes, this was all just an excuse to post pictures of pretty ladies in nerd culture. Problems?

And, yeah, I suppose you shouldn't argue with The Doctor either. But, again, this only raises the question of why The Doctor would want to read my blog, because I mean, really. There are more important things for The Doctor to do, unless (okay, screw it- there hasn't been a female Doctor yet, so I'm going to start using some gendered pronouns. PROVE ME WRONG, BBC) he decided that it WAS the most important thing for him to do, in which case- why? Fish fingers and custard?

Of course. What's wrong with fish fingers and custard?

Of course, by posting this, any associated parties that ARE watching me from December 2009 will either a.) make their move and we'll figure things out, b.) move to some point of observation after December 23, 2011, or c.) stop observing altogether. Choice c is unlikely for theory 2, and honestly, if 1 and 3 are really in play, they're unlikely to go with c either. As for choice b, the only one where that really makes sense is theory 2, because Skynet doesn't need me to know that they're coming. BECAUSE I TOTALLY DON'T, SKYNET. I WAS JUST NOTING THAT IT IS TRUE THAT THERE ARE NO GIRLS ON THE INTERNET AND IT IS TRUE THAT ALL FAN FICTION WRITERS ARE GIRLS. FAN FICTION IS POSTED ON THE INTERNET.

Meanwhile, choice a makes sense with all three theories, because if Skynet decides to make a move, it will want to do so even more once I've said something about knowledge of its plans. In theory 1, the future guys will want to make sure that I don't screw things up by indicating any more foreknowledge of their society. In theory 3, well, The Doctor does like clever people. Maybe this makes me look clever?

Well, George Carlin. Skynet. Doctor. I'm going to bed now. May the best time traveler win.

He ahlreadeh deed.