A Journey through Space, Time and TV

It really wasn’t so long ago that I didn’t know anything about Doctor Who. In those dark days I thought that it was about a time-travelling Doctor who was progressively getting younger (like I’m not sure I realised he had to die when a new actor came along? And I definitely thought he was a medical doctor of some kind). I had a niggling feeling for some years that I would probably enjoy it but just didn’t have the willingness to commit to such a well… commitment.

When I was at school, ABC used to play old episodes of Doctor Who at about 5 in the afternoon. They were always in black and white, I think, so they were all First and Second Doctor stories. I don’t remember anything about them except that the music made me scared and my mum would always say “oh I was so terrified of Daleks when I was a little girl”. I was pretty fearful myself to be honest and would usually subtly change the channel in an attempt to not seem like a scaredy-cat. 

In the years leading up to 2011 (when I became a massive fan) I saw parts of The Shakespeare Code in a second year drama class at uni. We discussed the historical accuracies (vulgarity, men dressed as ladies etc.) and inaccuracies (racial diversity, mostly, and also you couldn’t perform at night because there weren’t any lights). I thought to myself, “well that was silly” but also I was annoyed my lecturer skipped through parts because I wanted to know more. I also saw The Waters of Mars on the TV once. I suspect it was when it was actually released for the first time. I had *zero* idea what was going on, but I kept shushing people when they came into the room because it was good (the robot was not good though, the robot was dumb).

So, those of you who are long time readers (first time writers) will remember my first proper foray into Doctor Who. I decided to begin with Season 5 of the modern reboot because it was the start of the current Doctor and I didn’t want to make too big of a commitment. Hahahahaha. Hilarious. I was instantly hooked. And, of course, doing that introduced me to the mysteries of River Song and everyone was like “you have to watch back further to understand her” and I was like “oh no an excuse to watch more of this brilliant show” so instead of continuing on into Season 6 as I had originally planned, I went back to Season 1… and I took my housemates and my boyfriend with me.

We began marathonning the shit out of that show. I used to finish work in the afternoon and would basically run home across New Farm Park so that we could start as soon as possible. Whole weekends were devoted to Who. And we often had to rewatch episodes to catch up Boyfriend or others visitors to the house. We watched all of Eccleston’s run as the leading man in about 2 days, we hated Martha together, we loved Donna together, we watched Season 5 AGAIN (probably about my fourth time at this point) and finally moved on to Season 6.

And then suddenly, we were caught up. AND WE HAD TO WAIT. Just like every other fan, we had to wait for Let’s Kill Hitler. Admittedly, we didn’t have to wait anywhere near as long as others, but still, it was quite a shock to our systems. I’ve just checked the dates, I started watching in early June, 2011, and the second half of Season 6 started up again on August 27^th. So I think that gives you an idea of just how much TV we were watching and just how quickly we became fans.

Yesterday I got up at 5:30 in the morning to watch the live simulcast of The Day of the Doctor 50^th Anniversary Special with Boyfriend. I made TARDIS shaped biscuits for the occasion and almost hyperventilated when it started. I know there are fans who’ve loved this show since 1963, or who have watched every classic episode, or who waited decades for the reboot. I know. But I feel like the episode yesterday was for all of us, new and classic, young and old, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

My Doctor Who journey has been swift but intense. I loved it instantly and completely, and continue to love it every day. I have Doctor Who shirts and an apron and a mug, I have a Sonic Screwdriver and more TARDIS biscuits than I know what to do with right now. In just over a month I am visiting Cardiff, Wales, almost entirely because that's where they film it. 

And on Christmas day this year, I have to deal with my first ever real-time regeneration…

*Ugly sobbing*

Further Reading

If you like blogs and Doctor Who and blogs about Doctor Who I can highly recommend this post by Britt, and this, this and this, by Alex. 

Why I Don't (*gasp*) Shave.

There’s this thing called No ShaveNovember. It’s like Movember, in that it’s for cancer fundraising, but it’s unlike Movember in that it suggests both men and women can participate in it.

Except they can’t, not in the same way, not really.

For men not to shave, it means developing an interesting or amusing, socially acceptable face-statement. For women not to shave, it means grossness.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen men have the piss taken out of them during Movember, we all have. There’s always someone with a wispy excuse for a stash, someone who’s upper lip hair looks like a giant, horrifying hair worm from hell, who cops flack for letting it grow. But it’s all in good fun, isn’t it? And we’ll still put some money in the tin for them because it’s for cancer, and their face hair, while amusing, is totally fine, really.

I haven’t shaved my armpits in months.

I haven’t shaved my legs in years.

Did either of those statements make you freak out? Did either of them change your opinion of me? Why is that?

I get looks now. They are subtle looks, for sure, but they are there. They are always followed by an embarrassed look away, the way someone might react if they were caught staring at someone with a facial deformity. I always smile at people when this happens, to let them know it’s ok.

I am lucky in that my leg hair is blonde, and no one except me or Boyfriend ever get close enough to notice that it is there. My armpit hair is also light, but not blonde; it grows slowly and lightly, but it is this that people stare at. And it is ok with me that they look, because it is unusual. I don’t know any other women with armpit hair like mine. Or else, I’ve never noticed any. And maybe seeing it will make some people question it, I hope, because I think more people should try it.

I’m NOT saying EVERYONE should do it all the time. I am the kind of feminist who thinks women and men should be able to do whatever they like with their bodies. So if you like to have silky smooth legs and armpits then go for your life. But there is another option available to you. And I want people to know all the facts.

First of all, you have been told that it is unhygienic to leave bits of you unshaved. This is a fallacy, and it’s also illogical. Men have hairy armpits and no one calls them unhygienic for it. You’re not about to encourage lice into your pits, I promise. The only difference to my hygiene routine is that I take about 10 extra seconds to scrub my armpits in the shower in the morning. That’s it. I actually experience less sweaty patches on my shirts because there’s hair there now, doing what it’s supposed to do, catching sweat.  Fucking anatomy man, it knows what it’s doing.

Secondly, shaving does not equate “looking after yourself”. While I won’t deny that laziness was a factor in my choice to stop shaving (particularly my legs, that shit is a bitch), I’m not “letting myself go”. In fact, by not shaving my legs, I’ve experienced a revolution in my skin. Gone are the days of horrible dry legs, having to exfoliate all the time, and relying on moisturiser. My legs are no longer crying out in pain all the time because I’ve stopped scraping a horrible old razor across them all the time. It’s just logic. Meanwhile, I no longer have that horrible, blinding sting you get when you spray deo on a newly shaved armpit, and I don’t have to battle with stubble or in-grown hairs. Which is a real win.

Next up, razor companies are the devil. In the early part of the last century, short sleeve and sleeveless dresses became a thing, and a whole new market opened up to the people who’d previously been selling their razors to dudes only. Just think how clever they felt when they thought this up. Hair that no one had ever had out in public was suddenly anissue. And armpit shaving was born. Razor companies cackled to themselves maniacally, started making *pink* razors and sold body shame like it was going out of fashion. Unfortunately, it was not.  

Leg shaving came along during and after World War 2, when silky stockings became a thing. Now, I see the logic here, because it really is quite odd to have hairs sticking through your nice stockings. But which came first? The razor companies or the stocking companies? I might be getting into some bullshit conspiracy theory territory here, but the point is, everything anyone’s ever told us about body hair, that it’s “gross” that it’s “dirty”, “unladylike” or “masculine” has come to us straight from some old-fashioned advertisement. And it never went away. We’ve accepted it, as we’ve accepted painful waxing, plucking, shame and stigma. And frankly, that pisses me off. I don’t like doing things for illogical reasons, particularly reasons that have been created to take my money. I need that money, for food and books and such.

I’m not saying I’ll never shave again. I live in society and society tells us what is normal and nice and fashionable. The last time I shaved my pits was because I wanted to wear a particular dress and have a particular look, but I’ve worn it since without doing so and not felt weird. There may well come a time when I decide to take it up again, or shave my legs for a once off occasion. Or whatever. But for now, I’m enjoying being a little hairier than I once was, I’m enjoying not battling rusty, horrible razors in my tiny shower and I’m enjoying not paying Gilette for the pleasure.

And you know what else? I actually like how it looks.

And, I’m putting out the call. We’re half way through November. Ladies, can you go til the end of the month without shaving? You don’t have to tell me about it, if you don’t want, but I encourage you to try it. And if you’re a dude who’s read this and been “grossed out” by all this talk of hair, I encourage you to shave your pits *and keep them free from stubble and in-grown hairs* til the end of the month as well, and then get back to me.

Top Ten Weirdest/ Best Facebook ads.

Facebook ads. We all know 'em, we all get 'em, we all ignore 'em... except no I actually take screenshots of 'em and collect 'em like a weird hermit collects rusty nails. I post them on Facebook, keep them in a folder with the screenshots of those times minor celebrities tweeted at me, and now, post them in blog form for all the world to see.

So now I present to you: my top ten weirdest/ funniest Facebook ads for your enjoyment/ mutual disgust.


Number 10 - A phone company that just wants to see you fly.

...people who just really should be flung from catapults. 

I don't know what Samsung was getting at here, and frankly I don't want to know. Are they intending to launch people into space? Will the people be consenting to this? How will this help my phone plan?


Number 9 - Just some Guy.

This is just one of those fortuitous alignments. The kind of thing that happens once every 26 years when the moon is full and a field mouse is seen to converse with a crow. Guy Sebastian deserves better than this, he does, but this is still beautiful.


Number 8 - Slimmer, Smaller, Sharper, Better.

The person in this image has a genuine goitre problem they need to get checked out.

Ah yes, "ugly neck syndrome" - a blight upon humanity. This advertisement is concerning on a number of levels, not least of which are the obvious problems the writer has with the English language. But aside from that, this ad epitomises all that is wrong with the beauty industry. You are ugly, you are so very ugly, YOU ARE UGLY IN WAYS YOU DIDN'T EVEN KNOW IT WAS POSSIBLE TO BE UGLY. Buy our product. 

Number 7 - the product is snails.

The snails just sit on your shelf and judge your blemishes.

WHAT IN THE EVER LOVING FUCK, FACEBOOK SIDEBAR? Snail street dot com are you real life? Are you genuinely going to mail me snails and NOT use a snail mail pun? I am frankly disgusted with you. 

Number 6 - Exterminate.

Just a small, monthly donation to our benevolent overlord.

 Anything that claims to "destroy" any part of you is bad news. Even if that part of you is unwanted fat. I'm no health expert, but I can tell you that 1. you really should exercise, like all people should do that, it's good for you, 2. this diet will not include delicious eggs on toast, and 3. you should not be destroying your body with weird products you find on Facebook.


Number 5 - Jennifer Anniston is a wizard.

magic!

That's right, folks, Jen used these two diet tips, without dieting! Jennifer Anniston exists on another plane of existence where you can diet without dieting, eat without eating and be involved in shonky ad campaigns without consenting!

Number 4 - Weep your way through a degree.

Please don't make me.

You know that feeling you get when you're approaching the midway point through your assessments at uni and you honestly feel like you don't know how you're going to get through them all? One time I lay on a futon with a cushion on my head for three hours and had a silent panic attack about how much work I had to do. So I totally understand the way the girl in this image is feeling right now. What I don't understand is why OUA thought this was a good image to get people to enrol in their psychology course. Now I know what you're about to say, "no, no, Lizzy, the girl is representative of the kinds of people I can help once I've graduated from OUA!" To that I say, only if you make it through that feeling you get midway through your exams, chump. 

Number 3 - blessings upon you my child.

Ok this is totally cheating, because this isn't a Facebook ad. It's from some other website of dubious legality which we won't mention here, but I just had to include it in the list. The Internet has blessed you? Ok, I know in the past I've said that the internet is a religion, but this is too much, this is too far. Thank you lord internet for the gift of this $97/hour job. Thank you for this baby (which I assume was thrown in as a perk). ALSO at $97 an hour... why are you only earning $13, 750? per what? per annum? What do you have to do? Does it involve the baby? I am going to stop asking questions because that kid is staring at me and I'm afraid it's about to start answering me. 

Number 2 - Hashtag body shaming

Exactly like kissing, thanks for asking. 

Uuuuurrrrghhhhh there is so much wrong here. First up: facial hair is super fashionable at the moment, Gilette, you appear to have missed a memo. Second up, get fucked with your body shaming tactics. Maybe it stands out so much because this stuff is usually aimed at women, not men (and that's a whole other blog post) but some dudes are hairy, one dude who I happen to like a lot is a stubbly bastard, actually, but he'll still buy your fucking razors because he likes to shave his face hair into this chin strap thing that really suits him so you don't actually NEED to make people feel bad to buy your product, ok? Finally, DON'T FUCKING ADVERTISE TO ME. I *hate* this new thing where companies are like "ladies, how gross are our men, right? Let's CLEAN THEM!" Implying that men are incapable of looking after themselves AND that women are the ones who do the shopping. Gross, gross, gross, everybody shut up.

Number 1 - Cut a Bitch.

You bitches on the left don't matter, is what I'm saying.

And here we have it, the funniest ad I've ever seen on Facebook. When I first saw it, a small chuckle began deep within me. It rose up, and as I read and re-read the words, it exploded out of me, as I stared into the soulless eyes of the teenagers involved, it shook my whole body until tears came from mine. Because what is it really saying? 

Can't stand someone? Know some bitches who just really need to be taken down a peg? Let them know forever by immortalising on a phone case that time you cut them out of a photo! Use your phone case to cover them in the original photo! Take another photo of them with your newly dressed phone! Let them stare into the eyes of your true friends now stuck forever on the back of your phone. Imply with a look that yes, they'll be cut from this photo too. From all photos. Forever.

Seen some weird ads? Please share them with me on Facebook! Let us use the problematic website in question to share images for our own enjoyment. It seems only right. P.S. Sorry I skipped a week, I was lazy. xx 

That Weird Feeling You Get When it's Over...

I’m BACK!!

Loyal readers, I missed you! I hope you didn’t miss me, I hope you just revelled in the joy that was four guest posts from four excellent people while I’ve been away. One more time, people, a round of applause for Alex, Hilde, Tim and Kyle. Life savers. The lot of them.

What have I been doing this past month? Well, so much. I’ve been writing assignments, and doing online quizzes, and teaching, so much teaching! And all the planning and marking and meetings that go with it. I’m glad to report that I made the right decision to get into this teaching business; I’ve learnt so much, have found something I’m good at, and it’s been wonderful. But also, it’s been exhausting.

Today, I finally handed in my last assignment for the semester. After months of hard work, and (I think) 12 pieces of assessment, it’s done, it’s all done, I am free. But instead of feeling great, I am just left with that really weird feeling that you get when something’s over. You know the feeling, like you should be doing something, but also you should be enjoying yourself, but ALSO you should relax forever and never move again. And it feels like your body and brain are moving in two different directions, possibly more. Possibly, your brain has turned into a rubrix cube… who knows?  

In the two hours since my crazy life stopped being so crazy, I have:

Sat down to watch a kids cartoon on TV.

Simultaneously played Monopoly on my phone and therefore saw nothing of the TV show.

Spoken to my mum for 20 minutes.

Picked up Boyfriend from a thing.

Washed the car.

Planted a tomato plant I bought like a week ago because it was close to death.

Started this post.

… so, a really chilled afternoon then.

It’s like, I *tried* to relax at the start there, but I haven’t been able to sit still long enough to actually turn my brain off. Why do our brains and bodies do this to us? It’s like a long-term adrenalin thing or something, like we’re keyed up to keep running long after the race is over, instead of collapsing at the finish line and enjoying a nice cider like we deserve.

Anyway, with uni over, it’ll be back to regular viewing here at Hum Drum Plum, and I might actually get around to doing some more overanalysing of things. That was fun, and everyone was very positive about it, so I better give the people what they want. Keep an eye on my facebook page for voting regards that soon.

Cheers, yo. 

The Uncomplex yet Perfect Relationship of me and Lizzy King (We are not in Love) - Guest Post by Kyle Walmsley

Today's (late) blog comes to us from Kyle Walmsley.

I live in Darwin. I am writing this blog in Queensland. Which is where Lizzy lives. Which is poignant. I won’t be seeing Lizzy while I’m here. I’ll tell you why.  I first met Lizzy King when I was running a small bookshop in Notting Hill and she was a famous actress shooting her latest movie and I happened to spill orange juice all over myself and her.

This was not how Lizzy King and I met. That’s the plot of Notting Hill. We’re also not in love. As far as I know. No. We’re not in love.. In fact we’re not even close friends. In fact I hate that bitch. Woah. Sorry, that’s not true. But our relationship isn’t as complex as Hugh Grant’s and Julia Roberts in Notting Hill… which isn’t that complex to start with… which is what I’m writing about today as guest blogger – the uncomplex relationship of Lizzy and myself through the power of social media and words.

Lizzy and I aren’t close friends. That seems like quite a stinging statement, even though I thought about it and practiced it. I really like Lizzy. She’s funny, and clever, has mad theatre skills, we both love comedy and the Kransky Sisters. In fact, our journeys matched up quite strangely the same – we both moved from Brisbane to nowhere, different nowhere, in order to embrace a change and take a break from city living.  

So why aren’t we close friends? I remember growing up, girls especially, seemed to always be pressured into having a best friend. Or a few best friends. In the theatre too, everyone likes to greet everyone with the biggest loudest, “DARLING!!!” you can manage across the room, and introduce everyone as “THIS IS ANDREA SHE’S SIMPLY THE MOST FABULOUS BEST PERSON YOU’LL EVER MEET AND I LOVE HER AND SHE’S MY BEST FRIEND!”. Which is full of insincerity and cheapens real connections. Who I want to fly a flag for are not best friends. I want to fly a flag for those friends who you don’t ever see. Those from whom you aren’t drifting further apart from, but are in fact quite stably and comfortably secured in the perimeters of their consciousness, with no guilt or anxiety about having to climb the ranks of their priority list.

My Facebook feed is made up of three categories: 1) close friends, 2) mentals and 3) Lizzy Kings.  Let me go through these for you now for a little deepening in understanding.

1) Close friends – these are people in my real life that I know. I often see them. I work with them. I know when they’re lying on Facebook, I know when they are seeking out attention, I don’t really care what they’re up to on Facebook because I’ll either see them in real life soon and hear about it, or am involved in what they’re Facebooking about.

2) Mentals – Include people I actively seek out for my own disturbing amusement. People like Annika, a 24 year old mother of three, who has lots of fights with her on again off again boyfriend via her facebook statuses and as I look over now to see what her status is it reads “F**k off you geriatric b*tch, don’t tell me “you know” how to handle my child. You’re opinion is completely unwanted here.” .  People like Steven, 28, who insist that money isn’t real, and that you are actually able to pay bills, fines and government institutions with a piece of paper that is signed and reads “this is legal tender”.

3) Lizzy Kings - These are people that I know, have shared some sort of experience with and now exist only in my news feed. I see them in real life… never. I live in a different state, a different time zone, and here’s the real hard truth – will likely not see them again, outside of bumping into them at the in the street or theatre… or the Gatton local bachelor and spinster’s ball.

These are called the Lizzy Kings because Lizzy King is the model for this category. We met in 2010, creating poetry on stage as part of a creative team that brought an independent show to Metro Arts in Brisbane. Then Lizzy became my favourite person in the world by working her connections to get me a free ticket to The Kranksy Sisters at the Powerhouse. We laughed. We cried. We fell in love again. With the Kransky Sisters. 

And that was it. That was the last time I saw Lizzy. And it’s not because I did a poo in her letterbox, or we fell out of love (we were never in love), it’s just that in life things happen, people end up in different places in the world, and some people are closer than others.

Now here’s the interesting thing. Twenty years ago, had you wanted to keep in contact with a Lizzy King, you’d have to really make an effort – write letters or use the telephone (that’s right, TELEphone… because that’s what they called phones back then). THESE DAYS every week I have a new insight and understanding of Lizzy – through this very blog and her Facebook and her postings on both. I know lots of things about her, her likes and dislikes, political opinions, and what’s she’s been up to. If I were stalking her through a dating profile website, I could totally make the conversation on our first date amazing thanks to all the interest and study I could do around her (once again, not in love). And not just Lizzy but ALL Lizzys. I know intimate details and feelings about people that I haven’t seen in years. We exchange birthday thankyous – share occasional memories of meetings past and frequently ‘like’ each others outward creative expressions… but that’s it.

And it’s awesome. In fact it’s my preference. You get to uphold images of people in your mind with just the good bits, and the filter they choose to use to broadcast to the world, heck knows, I certainly wish I could take a few relationships and erase out the boring, or frustrating bits or the bits where they got to see me have a tantrum or embarrass myself. It’s totally non-committal – I can check in on the other person whenever I feel like it, and they me. And even if they’re sick of hearing from me, I can still check in on them. It’s perfect. It’s true love (it’s not true love).

Please note – the reason this blog is late is because I didn’t submit it on time. Whatever. It’s not like I’m ever going to see Lizzy for her to get me in trouble. (Editor's note - no, but you did give me free reign with the photo...)

Kyle Walmsley circa 2010 when we knew each other IRL - Photo by Amelia Dowd. 

Kyle Walmsley is an actor and writer based in Darwin in the Northern Territory. He writes his own blog at www.imverytiredandcranky.blogspot.com

Key Examples of Why Pokémon Creators Ran Out Of Ideas... During Gen I - Guest Post by Tim Hutton

Today's Guest Post is by Tim Hutton:

Of all the people I consider my close friends, Lizzy King is one of the only who really doesn’t give a flying hoot about Pokémon.  Therefore her blog is, of course, lacking in Pokécontent and this is a terrible shame.  A terrible shame that I intend to rectify with my post:

Key Examples of Why Pokémon Creators Ran Out Of Ideas... During Gen I:

People on the internet give later generations of Pokemon a lot of flack because the creators have “run out of ideas” for new Pokemon. 

Vanniluxe is often considered the point at which Pokemon jumped the shark.

With Pokemon X and Y coming out this week, and with me unable to purchase a copy for at least 10 days, I thought I would cause a bit of an internet shitstorm by putting forward the theory that Pokemon, in fact, ran out of ideas all the way back in Gen 1 (Pokemon Red/Blue/Yellow for those playing at home but not down with the cool kids’ lingo).

Example 1: Voltorb and Electrode

Voltorb is literally a Pokeball with a frowny face.  That’s it.  In the anime it’s most distinctive feature is that it explodes.  Hell, they didn’t even bother drawing a mouth on it!  Small children draw competent smiley faces.  And when you look at Voltorb’s evolution you don’t get much better:

Wow an upside-down Pokeball!  Much finesse.  Such sophistication of design.  Many... actually it looks a little too enthusiastic to be exploding there.  Never pick a fight with a man who has nothing to lose.  I would not pick a fight with an Electrode.

Example 2: Pidgey

Pidgey you are literally a pigeon.  I’m surprised your attacks aren’t “Fleas!”, “Fracking hell is that bread?!” and “Rummage through garbage.”

Example 3: Mr. Mime

Mr. Mime is the creepy malnourished clown who lives in your roof and sometimes knocks and you can hear him in the night but nobody would ever believe you.  His fingers are long with pads on the end.  Suitable for touching you.  Suitable for touching all of you.

Example 4: Magnemite & Magneton

 

Magnemite is a magnet.  Magneton is three magnets.  And they actually paid someone to come up with this.

Example 5: Diglett and Dugtrio

 

Diglett is... a mole?  A mound of dirt?  Nobody is quite sure.

Dugtrio is three... whatever Diglett is.

I sense a pattern.

Example 6: Jynx

Jynx is the unintentionally racist Pokemon.  Jynx’ original design featured a completely black face with big oversized red lips.  Yeah.  Oops.  Though actually Jynx was designed to poke fun at a fashion trend in Japan where women would bleach their hair but tan themselves really dark, it had an unfortunate resemblance to blackface. 

Despite all this, Jynx falls into Mr Mime’s camp of Creepily Proportioned Humanoids.  Not exactly a design revolution is it?

In Conclusion:

There are actually plenty more I can go on about here.  For example:

Squirtle?  Wow a turtle!  Caterpie/Metapod/Buterfree?  Holy shit it’s actually just a caterpiller.  Poliwrath?  More like Frowning Poliwhirl.  Bulbasaur?  What even are you?!  Seel?  They didn’t even bother changing the effing name.

What is my point?  Is it that I hate Gen 1 Pokemon?  No.  Of course not.  My point is that each generation has some stellar designs and some not so stellar designs.  Pokemon is, unfortunately, heavily subjected to nostalgia goggles and this is a huge problem in the gaming industry.  We want everything to be the same because it harks back to some time when games were pure, or some such nonsense like that.  The problem is that these games were objectively much worse than the games we have now!  It’s like the person who looks back and romanticises Medieval Europe but ignores things like the feudal system, or the lack of medicine. 

Tim Hutton was that kid in Grade 5. You know, the one who knew literally everything there was to know about Pokemon. Currently he is traveling the globe with not a care in the world! Except, you know, worrying constantly about missing flights and running out of money.