Soaring Through Lost Altitudes
When I was younger, reality ebbed and flowed around me as through a movie. It was all dramatized in my head, driven on by the music I loved. Even misfortune was villainized like I wanted it to be. In short, my desires and interests were causes to strive for, and my problems were demons to overcome. It was all so...again, dramatic.
When I read this passage in the book Phantastes, I knew familiarity.
"When he looked from his window on the street below, not a maiden passed but she moved as in a story, and drew his thoughts after her till she disappeared in the vista. When he walked in the streets, he always felt as if reading a tale, into which he sought to weave every face of interest that went by; and every sweet voice swept his soul as with the wing of a passing angel."
From the movie Shadowlands comes the quote: "We read to know we're not alone." And so that passage rang true to me when I read it only a few short years ago. I'd lived that way all my life. Now and then, I still do.
This year true reality has come to me, and I see things more in their unfiltered form. This applies to both happiness and sadness. The romantic notions of married life have been stripped away, but I find that I like what's there anyway. It's real, it's safe. And I'm still in love. Marisa and I have our dull days, but we also have days, like yesterday, that begin with chocolate pancakes and an episode of Little House on the Prairie (DVD).
And hey, I'm still designing dungeons in my spare time. Although "spare time" has become an interesting new concept with a skewed defintion.
But I will always inject life again with that romanticism. Not idealism. Don't mistake me. It's about infusing the everyday with passion, with drama, of some kind. Sometimes it's only in my head, and no one ever knows. And sometimes that's okay. In any case there's always Rush to keep me going....
Symbols on a field of visions
Behind the curtain of sleeping eyes
On the instant of waking
Another world of dreams appears
When I read this passage in the book Phantastes, I knew familiarity.
"When he looked from his window on the street below, not a maiden passed but she moved as in a story, and drew his thoughts after her till she disappeared in the vista. When he walked in the streets, he always felt as if reading a tale, into which he sought to weave every face of interest that went by; and every sweet voice swept his soul as with the wing of a passing angel."
From the movie Shadowlands comes the quote: "We read to know we're not alone." And so that passage rang true to me when I read it only a few short years ago. I'd lived that way all my life. Now and then, I still do.
This year true reality has come to me, and I see things more in their unfiltered form. This applies to both happiness and sadness. The romantic notions of married life have been stripped away, but I find that I like what's there anyway. It's real, it's safe. And I'm still in love. Marisa and I have our dull days, but we also have days, like yesterday, that begin with chocolate pancakes and an episode of Little House on the Prairie (DVD).
And hey, I'm still designing dungeons in my spare time. Although "spare time" has become an interesting new concept with a skewed defintion.
But I will always inject life again with that romanticism. Not idealism. Don't mistake me. It's about infusing the everyday with passion, with drama, of some kind. Sometimes it's only in my head, and no one ever knows. And sometimes that's okay. In any case there's always Rush to keep me going....
Symbols on a field of visions
Behind the curtain of sleeping eyes
On the instant of waking
Another world of dreams appears
posted by Jeff LaSala at 7:50 AM
4 Comments:
I can somewhat relate here. I've never been able to do what you describe, because reality, like gravity, is too strong for such flight. For me, that is.
However, I do have moments, and have always had moments, where an unreality is formed around me simply by not thinking. At this point, every sound, light level, color, smell, and emotion-of-place creates an otherworldly quality to the most worldly experience. Transferring from red to blue lines in an underground tunnel yesterday had this effect, and arising out of a stinging dampness into a cold grey purgatory felt much more different than it would had I been preoccupied with a book or a thought of what I had to do when I got home.
Good post, J. It seems to me that we are all offered a choice: we can actively invest reality with romance ...
... or not. :)
"Actively," because all human-machines do this to some degree. As soon as I give a name to an object ("Dog." "Car." "My car."), that object takes on certain connotations, a glamour or "romance" if you will.
Certainly pushing the romance too far is a recipe for disaster (or at least being really annoying to your friends), but I'd argue that we all do it, to some degree or another.
No Eb rejection yet? ...
... you're our money-man, J!
Are you kidding? As a rule, I tend to get my WotC-related mail approximately 6 months after Ed does. Grrr.
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