Today I lost a very significant battle. A long fought internal struggle finally came to an end and a significant line was crossed.
When I was little I had a toy light sabre. It wasnt much; it really, wasnt much at all. It was a white plastic tube with a light attached. In the toy shop a little further down the isle was the light with out the plastic tube. It was called a torch. However, light sabres were just sooo cool. I swung that thing around the living room with the curtains drawn till I was exhausted. Thinking back, the only thing that saved the light fittings was my relatively short arsed stature: 52, with the light sabre (I was about 5).
And then I grew up. It happens. Star wars, like many things boys like, entered the territory of a subject that could only be discussed to a point; before people made excuses to join other groups at the party. (Or dinner party: Thats the difference between growing up and grown up, kids. You dont actually want to have a dinner party. Its just that the sofas were expensive, and, you know, its an cream carpet).
But then episode 1 came out. And OK, Im not even going into that conversation. The important bit, is that bit, you know, THAT bit. With the double ended sabres and the Vvrrrmms and Tsch-Zzinnng! I. Wanted. A. Light sabre.
But I couldnt. Im thirty now ferchrissake. Im seriously behind on the social maturity index for my age as it is. I could not take the additional minus points of owning a kids toy let alone playing with it. I resisted for a long time. Twenty quid is a lot of money for what, despite its attention to detail, looked suspiciously like a torch with plastic tube attached. What would I do with it? The novelty would last seconds. 8.99 down the market? Sold.
Oh dear.
Well I bought it. The box looks very nice. Maybe it'll look good as an ornament. Sod it, who am I kidding. How do you open this fucker? I dont care how much more itll be worth with the box intact, I want it outta there now, dammit!
I think there must have been, oooh at least a 6 to 7 second interval before a loud clang and a shower of fluff indicated the first of many collisions with the lampshade. Possibly another 30 or so seconds before the lights went out and the curtains were drawn. And to be honest Id like to keep the involvement of the mirror to myself thank you very much.
So thats it then. The cat hates it and I can never look my peers in the eye and have a meaningful conversation on grown up stuff. Not that I ever do however, I think they talk about money and shiny things. The point is however that the owning and use of said implement signifies the end of my adult development. Thats it. My lifestyle, conversational level, dress sense and ability to tolerate people I dont like will never exceed the levels they are at now. The cheap market stall light sabre was a test. My life split at that point into parallel universes. In one world I passed the light sabre by and bought a nice shirt from Topman so I would be indistinguishable at the bar Friday nights. In this world however I bought a couple of T-shirts from H&M and printed off Chewbacca and Storm trooper iron on transfers. Now; why do people look at me funny when I go buy a pint?
When I was little I had a toy light sabre. It wasnt much; it really, wasnt much at all. It was a white plastic tube with a light attached. In the toy shop a little further down the isle was the light with out the plastic tube. It was called a torch. However, light sabres were just sooo cool. I swung that thing around the living room with the curtains drawn till I was exhausted. Thinking back, the only thing that saved the light fittings was my relatively short arsed stature: 52, with the light sabre (I was about 5).
And then I grew up. It happens. Star wars, like many things boys like, entered the territory of a subject that could only be discussed to a point; before people made excuses to join other groups at the party. (Or dinner party: Thats the difference between growing up and grown up, kids. You dont actually want to have a dinner party. Its just that the sofas were expensive, and, you know, its an cream carpet).
But then episode 1 came out. And OK, Im not even going into that conversation. The important bit, is that bit, you know, THAT bit. With the double ended sabres and the Vvrrrmms and Tsch-Zzinnng! I. Wanted. A. Light sabre.
But I couldnt. Im thirty now ferchrissake. Im seriously behind on the social maturity index for my age as it is. I could not take the additional minus points of owning a kids toy let alone playing with it. I resisted for a long time. Twenty quid is a lot of money for what, despite its attention to detail, looked suspiciously like a torch with plastic tube attached. What would I do with it? The novelty would last seconds. 8.99 down the market? Sold.
Oh dear.
Well I bought it. The box looks very nice. Maybe it'll look good as an ornament. Sod it, who am I kidding. How do you open this fucker? I dont care how much more itll be worth with the box intact, I want it outta there now, dammit!
I think there must have been, oooh at least a 6 to 7 second interval before a loud clang and a shower of fluff indicated the first of many collisions with the lampshade. Possibly another 30 or so seconds before the lights went out and the curtains were drawn. And to be honest Id like to keep the involvement of the mirror to myself thank you very much.
So thats it then. The cat hates it and I can never look my peers in the eye and have a meaningful conversation on grown up stuff. Not that I ever do however, I think they talk about money and shiny things. The point is however that the owning and use of said implement signifies the end of my adult development. Thats it. My lifestyle, conversational level, dress sense and ability to tolerate people I dont like will never exceed the levels they are at now. The cheap market stall light sabre was a test. My life split at that point into parallel universes. In one world I passed the light sabre by and bought a nice shirt from Topman so I would be indistinguishable at the bar Friday nights. In this world however I bought a couple of T-shirts from H&M and printed off Chewbacca and Storm trooper iron on transfers. Now; why do people look at me funny when I go buy a pint?
*hugs* happy christmas anyway..