Fozzie likes to tease me about being a geek because of my slavish devotion to Lost and Battlestar Galactica. And I've pretty much taken it, 'cuz it's not exactly like he's wrong or anything. But my level of geekdom these days is so much lower these days than it used to be.
Oh, if only he knew.
There was a time when I was a card-carrying full-on nerd. From my taste in films to my taste in reading material. Hell, I was in deep. Really deep.
I'm not so much any more. Although I'm still reading Robert Jordan, and if he should pass away before finishing The Wheel of Time, I'm gonna kick his ass.
But as I was sitting down to write this, chuckling over the fact that I'm not quite the uber-nerd I used to be, I was a little struck by how happy I was then. Not that I'm not now, but back in the day, the world seemed so rife with possibility and imagination and creativity.
Case in point: At the height of my D&D obsession (I was, of course, the Dungeon Master, God help me), my friends Dean, Marcy and George played this adventure I'd written involving their characters boarding a ship and sailing off in search of lost lands. It was a fairly good story, if I may pat myself on the back, but the best part was that — since we were using minatures to represent the characters we were plalying — I actually built a model of the ship out of cardboard, and we used it almost like a game board.
I can promise you, I wouldn't put anywhere near that kind of energy into playing a game these days.
Which is both really good in many ways, and in many ways kinda sad. Dean has often remarked that the times he had the most fun playing the game was those occasions when I went out of my way to provide visual aids, and that adventure in particular was one of his favorites.
Ah, the good old days.
All of which leaves me pining not so much for my days as an uber-geek as for a time when the world seemed to hold limitless possibilities, when my imagination seems at its height of fancy. Oh, to be able to think like a ridiculously well-read and unafraid-to-steal-good-ideas eighteen year-old kid again.
I wonder if it's possible to get back to that mental space -- or if it's even right to try?
Oh, if only he knew.
There was a time when I was a card-carrying full-on nerd. From my taste in films to my taste in reading material. Hell, I was in deep. Really deep.
I'm not so much any more. Although I'm still reading Robert Jordan, and if he should pass away before finishing The Wheel of Time, I'm gonna kick his ass.
But as I was sitting down to write this, chuckling over the fact that I'm not quite the uber-nerd I used to be, I was a little struck by how happy I was then. Not that I'm not now, but back in the day, the world seemed so rife with possibility and imagination and creativity.
Case in point: At the height of my D&D obsession (I was, of course, the Dungeon Master, God help me), my friends Dean, Marcy and George played this adventure I'd written involving their characters boarding a ship and sailing off in search of lost lands. It was a fairly good story, if I may pat myself on the back, but the best part was that — since we were using minatures to represent the characters we were plalying — I actually built a model of the ship out of cardboard, and we used it almost like a game board.I can promise you, I wouldn't put anywhere near that kind of energy into playing a game these days.
Which is both really good in many ways, and in many ways kinda sad. Dean has often remarked that the times he had the most fun playing the game was those occasions when I went out of my way to provide visual aids, and that adventure in particular was one of his favorites.
Ah, the good old days.
All of which leaves me pining not so much for my days as an uber-geek as for a time when the world seemed to hold limitless possibilities, when my imagination seems at its height of fancy. Oh, to be able to think like a ridiculously well-read and unafraid-to-steal-good-ideas eighteen year-old kid again.
I wonder if it's possible to get back to that mental space -- or if it's even right to try?
No comments:
Post a Comment