Monday, August 16, 2010
If being in love with a fictional character is wrong...
...then I don't want to be right. And heaven's no, I'm not talking about that insufferable Edward Cullen. Give me more credit then that. You see, dear readers, I first and foremost blame L.M. Montgomery. Without the creation of Gilbert Blythe this post wouldn't be possible. He was my first literary love. Followed closely by Mr. Darcy. The greatest obstacle in relationships such as these, (aside from the fact that everyone laughed at me when I said that Gilbert Blythe was taking me to the prom...okay maybe I never did that, but I had you for a second, didn't I?) was that as I got older, my literary loves stayed the same age. Firmly glued in their fantastic imaginary world. This honestly didn't present a problem for quite some time because both Gilbert and Fitzwilliam were significantly older than me. It wasn't until I met Harry that my age became a hang up. I was 15 when I sat down with the first deliciously good installment of Harry's magical life. J.K. Rowling had me at:
"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were normal, thank you very much."
It was love at first read. It was small at first, our little love affair. Harry'd magically open a door here. Levitate a wand there. Small tokens of affection really. But as time went on, it became more intense. Winning the Tri-Wizard Tournament, breaking into the Ministry of Magic. I was thoroughly devastated when he started dating Cho Chang. I came to accept that he loves Ginny, but it still stings. Eventually we both decided to move on. But that's when I met Percy. See, Percy and I had a special connection. I happen to adore water. Being landlocked here in Utah just about kills me. I need ocean. (Which is why I plan to go to grad school somewhere near a large body of water.) And Percy just happens to be the son of Poseidon. Coincidence? I think not.
Before you all call the nice men in white coats to take me away, let me explain. It's really my inner 15 year old that infatuated by there characters. All of us (if we're smart) keep our inner 15 year old alive. It makes us fun, exciting and able to imagine. The loss of imagination is one of the most tragic things that can happen to a person, at least in my humble (oh who are we kidding, I'm not humble) opinion. So, before you call me crazy, ask your inner 15 year old's opinion. My guess is that yours will come to the same conclusion as mine.
It's all about the imagination.