I'm Surprised People Even Talk To Me

In case you haven't already guessed because I hide it so well, I am a fantasy geek. Every now and then I'll slip some sci-fi or children's lit in there to spice things up, but I am primarily addicted to swordplay, horses, and vaguely British accents. When I was younger, all my reading had convinced me that I could find a portal to another world, so of course I spent hours clawing at thin air to break through. Nothing happened.

I then surmised that it was something I would have to be patient for, something that would come to me on victorious wings of salvation when I had proved myself worthy. In the meantime, I would have to learn the ins and outs of fantasy world life so that I would be prepared. This meant not only digesting the classics, like Lord of the Rings and the Chronicles of Narnia, but also looking for those insignificant details in other fantasy novels that would SURELY BE USEFUL AT SOME POINT. (Note that I am deliberately not including at what age I came to these conclusions.)

This meant memorizing that the magic of a halfblood is stronger than the magic of either the elven or human parent (according to The Halfblood Chronicles, of course), or that the trouble usually comes from the East. Adventure lies to the North, don't be surprised if an animal starts speaking to you, and if you must undertake an epic journey, you're gonna need the right sword--but don't worry, it'll come to you in some form or another.

A certain friend of mine might advise me at this point to "keep the geek contained," but I prefer to give it some air. After all, at some point we all must embrace our true identity--how else would Aragorn have become King of Gondor???

I admit that I still read fantasy novels religiously, but more out of an appreciation for the imaginative genre and less out of a certainty that I am studying for my future. Just to switch it up, though, I recently decided to read a real book (and by "real," I mean one that could feasibly take place in the real world as it exists, without the added benefit of dragons or whatever). Now that I've graduated college, best get with the program and start paying more regular visits to Responsibility Town, right?

I chose to read "One Day" by David Nicholls, a book that had already passed through the eager clutches of my sister and mother. Though my sister had prepared me for a certain amount of identification with the main character, I was not expecting to feel like this:

Since reading this one book, I have gained a lot of insight into my habits and the personalities of other people in my life. Not to say that I am a generally clueless person who has never read another book, but it got me thinking about the importance of balance.

To put it in Star Wars terms, I realized you must bring balance to the Force. If you are your own personal galaxy (and believe me, some of the people I know fully subscribe to that notion), you must allow both Jedi and Sith to exist. Otherwise there wouldn't be a never-ending franchise. Feed your passions but also subject yourself to some situations you don't typically enjoy: practice your lightsaber technique and be there to cradle your dying mother in your arms. The tension of opposites can produce quite inspiring results (unless you're Anakin).

+

=

>:C

Moral of the story: don't be Anakin. He's a punk. Either go whole-hog Vader or don't even bother.

Even Darth Vader reads his Jane Austen.

THE BEAST, IT IS TAMED

I've finally done it! I have transformed my dust-infested, stuffed animal-laden, childhood toy receptacle of a room into a bona fide living space for a college grad! And it is mine. All mine. My precioussssss, if you will.

Ironically, the proud and possessive feelings I now have for my room sprung directly from the painful-but necessary-decision to remove all of my LOTR posters. All of them. Because I had more than two. At least I barely escaped getting a cardboard cutout of Aragorn.

Taking down posters has been an odd removal of paradigms. When I was 15, I went angsty and put up all my LOTR posters (because that's what no one else did) and decided to paint every inch of my room the most defiant color I could think of--orange. Yeah. I stand by the color 'cause it actually looks pretty cool, but I even painted the baseboards and the ceiling. I'm gonna have to change that soon. Taking down these posters, and even facing the prospect of repainting part of my ORANGE! room white is a big step for me. Mostly because it involves vacuuming the baseboards. Sigh.

Graduation has had an odd effect on me. It has an odd effect on everyone, I know, but what I've found to be true for me (and, I suspect, for many people) is that this time is not just an inevitable sinking into despair. I'm not working yet, so I've had time for The Scouring of the Chambre and other eternally-delayed tasks. It's an interesting process, mostly because you learn that you don't have to be the person you thought you were anymore. I'm thinking also about the fact that I've never considered myself a science-y person, but here I am listening to Morgan Freeman guide me Through the Wormhole and watching the NatGeo channel on a regular basis! I guess what I'm saying is, you don't have to be the person you were in college after college. I'd always thought college was the time when we Define Ourselves, and it is, but life continues after college. Change continues after college. Growth continues after college. 

In the wise words of one of the most trumped-up characters in LOTR: "There is still hope."

Bacon and an Adventure

I would never have thought to put those two together: bacon...and an adventure? When I think of bacon, there are frying pans involved, greasy paper towels, and the sense of expectation that usually accompanies Sunday morning celebrations at home. But if Samwise Gamgee has taught me anything, it is that you can bring frying pans along on any adventure. But what is an adventure?

I experienced last summer what it meant to have neither. On a three-week dig in the Promised Land, I doggedly burrowed my way through each day with the promise of neither bacon nor an adventure. Ironically, that is precisely what I had come to Israel for--an adventure, not bacon (I've never been much of a bacon fan.) I had already learned last summer that archaeology was not the roaring, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants experience that Indiana Jones had promised. So what was I doing on another dig? I still don't know. I think I just wanted to travel. I have always associated adventure with travel, but somehow I expected that just being in Israel would be enough to outweigh the archaeological tedium. The most significant thing I learned last summer is that travel and adventure can sometimes be less related than bacon and adventure. Banished to the farthest corner of my area, I spent several days of that dig sifting through bucket after bucket of dirt in search of beads the size of a freckle. I was in Israel, yes, but I was also in exile.

The misery of that experience has left me with one truth: you need not go far to have an adventure. It has also left me with the title for this blog post. One of the most fun people digging in my area was Linzie, a gregarious, social glue of a woman. Her humor kept me greatly entertained and often kept me from directing my trowel at my wrists instead of at the dirt. One morning, in the wee hours before the sun had risen and we were already sweating, she announced to the area that she had had a dream in which she baldly stated that she needed bacon and an adventure. There was no reason for this proclamation in her dream...it simply was. And so that phrase became the motto for our area.

The current summer of 2009 has proven that truth right. Instead of embarking on another journey to the Middle East (or anywhere, for that matter) I stayed home and got a job. It's nothing fancy--I work the concession stand at the local movie theater. I live with my parents, and when I'm not working, I take care of my aging dog. This summer has been therapeutic more than anything. If I had traveled somewhere, I would most likely have done so to escape pain--it's not been the easiest of years for my family. Staying put has calmed me in a way I did not expect. I have been exposed to unimaginable depths of heartache, but with the help of my family, I have thus far come through each trial. My nose has been rubbed in decay. It still smells awful, but I can deal with it better. I am stronger than I thought.

I have had plenty of adventures right at home। There was the instance of the falling tree branch, for example. The perpetrator? A squirrel. Not to mention the time I shared a bowling lane with two amorous high schoolers who kept stealing my ball. So uncool. Shit almost went down. Anyway, the real adventure is living life in the moment. I've found that when I'm fully present to whatever situation I'm in, I gain so much more from that experience...and that experience rapidly becomes an adventure. My dig last summer was hell because I spent the whole time wishing I were home, and when I got home I spent the whole time wishing I had enjoyed Israel more. I was never fully satisfied with either place because I didn't take time to fully experience each place when I was there. So this summer I stayed home and learned what it means to be a contributing adult back at my parents' house. I, too, can bring home the bacon, which is closer to adventure than you might think.