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Nov. 26th, 2005 08:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sebastienneI am made happy. I've taken to LARPing which, for those of you who don't know, is like a cross between historical re-enactment and dungeons & dragons. (go ahead, purists, hit me for that description.) it is very very fun, and in geekishness probably about on a par with fanfiction. It's also closer to what I'm looking for (yes, that general intangible life defining object of quest) than anything else I've done for a while.
My life definitely does have an element of the quest to it at the moment. I'm sure that English students know better than I do (and there are enough of you on my Flist!) quite how central the quest or goal-oriented journey is to literature, and if literature is meant to symbolically encode some truth about life/existence/whatever then I suppose I should not be surprised. My life has always been construable in terms of a quest, now I come to think of it. An obsession, a striving-towards, an orientation. Almost always people or groups of people: first it was the Rocky Horror "cultists", as I thought of them; the moment I stepped into that midnight showing they'd welcome me with open arms as one of their own, I was always sure of it. Then my Wildean obsessions, my obsessive falling-in-love with the people who turned out to be my best friends (I'm looking at you here, Kat and Luke).. the role has been filled by theorising over the outcome to the Harry Potter books, and even by solving the enigma of my own sexuality - and now nothing fills that space in my psyche. I feel a little goal-less, a little lacking in obsession. This is probably just a function of maturing. Growing up. Ceasing to idealise things. I don't like that thought as much as I probably should.
I'm meant to be running a get-in tomorrow. What larks! What this really means is, I get to carry lights around and make sure we don't set the theatre on fire. I'm not really doing a very good job of this At All.
My life definitely does have an element of the quest to it at the moment. I'm sure that English students know better than I do (and there are enough of you on my Flist!) quite how central the quest or goal-oriented journey is to literature, and if literature is meant to symbolically encode some truth about life/existence/whatever then I suppose I should not be surprised. My life has always been construable in terms of a quest, now I come to think of it. An obsession, a striving-towards, an orientation. Almost always people or groups of people: first it was the Rocky Horror "cultists", as I thought of them; the moment I stepped into that midnight showing they'd welcome me with open arms as one of their own, I was always sure of it. Then my Wildean obsessions, my obsessive falling-in-love with the people who turned out to be my best friends (I'm looking at you here, Kat and Luke).. the role has been filled by theorising over the outcome to the Harry Potter books, and even by solving the enigma of my own sexuality - and now nothing fills that space in my psyche. I feel a little goal-less, a little lacking in obsession. This is probably just a function of maturing. Growing up. Ceasing to idealise things. I don't like that thought as much as I probably should.
I'm meant to be running a get-in tomorrow. What larks! What this really means is, I get to carry lights around and make sure we don't set the theatre on fire. I'm not really doing a very good job of this At All.
