Note: Yes, I am starting BEDA halfway through. Yes, it is not technically everyday then. I like to live dangerously (well, actually, I don't, I'm skittish as bunny slippers. It's odd I consider myself a Gryffindor.)
As a kid, I was always the type to make everything into a story. I was not on an old, decrepit bus putt-putting its way to a run down school full of kids that didn't understand me, and in fact, actively disliked me, I was in a merchant's wagon, an adventurer who'd caught a ride with a passing trader, making my way to the big city to continue my epic journey, fighting dragons, trolls, and who knows what else. I think it was my method of escape from reality, my time to dream I was somewhere greater, somewhere full of magic, fighting for all that's right, where if people didn't accept me, they learned quickly what I was capable of. I wrote all the time...most of my stories included cats. I really loved cats as a kid. It didn't matter that cats didn't really talk and wield longswords and live in a fantasy world I dubbed "Kitty City". It was real for me at the time.
As I got older, I stopped writing gradually. Eventually it came to the point where I barely read anymore. Reality was something I was constantly aware of, as a trans, female-bodied bisexual, knowing that people like me are nothing but political tools or mere objects to most of society. I was never a sheltered child, my parents always encouraged me reading banned books and told me about society's troubles...but it wasn't until recently when I began paying close attention to everything happening (I hadn't been ignorant of it before, I just hadn't spent as much time.) It was about the time of the London riots last year that I started becoming hopeless...and in that, I feel I lost what was the last of my ability to disappear into a fantasy world...reality was around me always, crushing me. It became harder and harder to escape...science fiction shows, one of the few things that had given me hope for the human race, while still enjoyable, seemed to be showing a view of humanity through rose-coloured glasses. I just felt, and feel, like my ability to escape through story has left me.
It's time to change that. And that's why I'm doing BEDA and making a goal to read at least one book this month. One thing I've learned in recent years is story can not only be a means of escape, but a way to examine reality: what we are, what we were, what we could be. Really, there are stories that are dark, there are stories that are light...some science fiction shows show just how noble the human race can be, some just how horrible. Some say they like dark fiction, some light, some in between, and a few of those think their preference more accurately reflects humanity. Maybe, really, they are all right. Maybe dark shows depicting the future can show how horrible we could become, the light, sometimes campy, sometimes cheesy (and other times ridiculously epic) ones how amazing. Some books and shows, in fantasy and science fiction, whether in the past, present, or future (or somewhere not on our timeline) can teach us so much about ourselves from the then, now, and future. I feel like through losing my ability to read and write stories I have lost something dear to me, something that I wish I could share with the world: the ability to escape and yet analyze reality, to find out where we stand and how we can make things better.
I can thank the Harry Potter Alliance for rekindling my hope in stories, and making it so I can enjoy all types, happy, sad, in between. Though what really inspired me to start this, what was really the point where I said, you've got to snap out of this, Francis, reality is important but you're missing so much more, was the speech Sam gives in the Two Towers:
"There's some good in this world...and it's worth fighting for."
I really think most stories portray that, whether their depictions of humanity be positive, negative, or in between. Maybe existence is pointless, and yes, the universe will eventually end, but that rings true-even if, to the universe, we are insignificant, the fact that we are alive, can feel, can tell and make stories, means we give ourselves meaning, if only for a short time.
Whether there is or is an afterlife or if there's in inherent point to the universe, made by a creator or random luck, the universe is amazing. If someone/thing created the universe, that's an amazing masterpiece. If it just all happened by coincidence, then everything is still a miracle in a sense because we're still here despite the odds.
What matters is we are alive now. Let's live, let's write stories together, let's fight for everything that is good. We can give meaning to our own lives. We all have the power to better the world. I lost interest in stories for the longest time, but now, I can see they were right all along. Anything is possible.
We CAN make the world better. Where will we end up? I don't know. Will things be better a century from now? Will it be worse? Is it doomed to be worse? Even if it is, there is good in this world, and it is worth fighting for. We don't know where we're going, but it could be anywhere. I am glad to be making this journey back into fiction so I can better understand reality.
To quote one of my favourite movies:
"In the end, isn't it always the same question? And always the same answer? The game is 90 minutes. The ball is round. Everything else is pure theory."*
Here we go.
*From Run, Lola, Run.
