Saturday, April 18, 2015

I Remember Joining the Dark Side

Warning: Contains nerdiness, nostalgia and excessive amounts of fandom.

I woke up.
No alarm clock.
No school.
No immediate chores to do.
No worries.
Blue sunlight streamed in through my open window as the orioles and meadow larks welcomed in a perfect summer day. The roosters had been crowing for close to an hour now and I hopped out of bed.

I remember that.

In a flash of unkempt hair and Robots pajamas, I was out the front door and into the clean, Idaho air.
No shoes.
No breakfast.
No neighbors to worry about.
I spent that morning catching grasshoppers.
It was an eight-year-old's dream.

I remember that.

It was just another day, in an ocean of days. Summer break stretched endlessly into the distance, the same way my street disappeared in an eternal line of pot holes and telephone poles.

I remember my universe being comprised primarily of Legos.
I remember the day my Dad introduced me to Star Wars and suddenly a new universe was born.
I remember the day the world introduced me to Lego Star Wars and I died of ecstasy.

I remember that.

In my mind I created worlds (and later destroyed them with super lasers).
In my bedroom I created speeders and spaceships, enacting fantastic battles and chases that always ended up with Lego pieces everywhere.
In my backyard my best friend and I felled Empires and battled the most formidable of Sith Lords.

I remember that.

We were Jedi. We were outlaws. We were spies. We were Ewoks. It depended on the day but no matter what we always saved it. We saved the day. We saved the universe. We never saved any damsels in distress though; they had cooties. (Sorry ladies)

I remember that.

But then things began to change.
Jedi mind tricks didn't work on long division problems and the force wasn't strong enough to make me good at basketball. The world told me big boys don't play pretend.
Slowly I began to cave to the adults.
My Legos became decorations. My Star Wars VHS tapes began to collect dust. My lightsaber lived in the closet. I began to distance myself from my best friend, my partner in crime, my wingman. His imagination was stronger than mine so he held out longer. But a few months after I put my childhood on the shelf, so did he.
With no one to save it, the Universe died.

I remember that.

Looking back now I see that the Empire won. They infiltrated the adults and convinced us that hero work was for pansies. Imagination is reserved for kids. Big boys don't play with Legos and lightsabers.
I didn't realize it then but the day I put my lightsaber down, I joined the Dark Side.
I joined the ranks of those who live in fear of critics, crayons and creativity.
The Death Star we live on isn't a battlestation but a massive complex of little, grey cubicles filled with people who are convinced the critics are right.
They want us to believe that only other people are allowed to live their dreams.
That science fiction will forever be fiction.
And as for imagination, that stuff's for kids.

I remember when my imagination spanned the length of the Universe. Now it barely spans the page.
But it wasn't too late for Anakin so it's not too late for me either.
I will fight this Empire of fear until the day I die.
Writing. Music. Photography. Crayons.
I want my lightsaber back.

And eventually, when I have a son, I will make sure that he grows up with a lightsaber in his hand. I will raise a Chosen One. Then I can relive my childhood as I watch him save the Universe again and again.





Ps: My best friend is still my best friend to this day

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