On Fantasy (I might be drinking)
I was recently asked what my favorite book was. The Hobbit. Now, I’m used to the occasional weird look, but this person got straight to the fucking point, “No. I mean like, a real book.” I get this reaction a lot unfortunately, and I know why I get that reaction, but I’m still pretty sick of it.
Fantasy and Science Fiction are escapist in nature, and it may not be so visible here on Tumblr, but to the majority of the “adult” world, a love of Fantasy speaks to arrested development. You read Fairy Tales as a child, and that’s where they belong: childhood. If you’re reading Fantasy, let alone immersing yourself in other ways, then you’re probably used to weird looks and teasing, or worse.
See, you are defying some social norms and behavioral codes, however small, and society remedies that in two ways: satire or violence. So if you get made fun of enough, or beat up enough, maybe you’ll wise up and start acting like a real adult. Right?
Thankfully wrong, because Fantasy was built to withstand that shitty flaw in society. Fantasy comes self-equipped to shield you from every blow, while simultaneously wrapping you in a warm embrace of acceptance and validation. It is nothing short of magic. Fantasy is escapist, true, but it is the single greatest device for handling the society and the reality that you are escaping from.
I immerse myself in Fantasy, yes to escape the world for a time, but is doesn’t end there. Every time I visit Middle-earth I bring something back. A better vocabulary, higher confidence, insights, questions, courage, ideas, and the occasional epiphany, all of which act as tools I can use here in the real world.And I do use them. I am constantly using them. I look to Fantasy so I can build a better reality.
So if people don’t understand why I devote myself to Fantasy, it’s okay because I am Barrel-Rider, a light from the shadow, an assistant Pig-Keeper (formerly), the mother of Dragons, the brightest witch of my age, I am Dovahkiin, daughter of Eve, a companion, a Browncoat, a Sailor Scout, a Starfleet graduate, I survived the Legacy Virus, I have been through the looking glass, I sit at the Round Table, my name is a killing word, and my Midi-chlorian count is very fucking high.
Those are my tools, I am the reality I built for myself, I am still building, I will keep building and insults will fall deafly on my pointed motherfucking ears.