Do you remember your firsts?
The first action movie you saw, the explosions, the jumping in your seats, the way you felt when you walked out, and the constant thought for weeks after the event.
The first game you ever truly put yourself into, the endless hour spent getting that perfect Character, the perfect build order, the perfect strategy that no one else has thought of yet.
The first time you went out with a girl, the heart pounding, the nervousness, the unsureness of yourself and your actions, the need, the want, and the dreaded.
The first time you walked into your school or class, the huge rooms and looming buildings, the hustle and bustle of people, and the wanting to go home.
The first time you realised that Santa was not real, the disappointment, feelings of betrayal, and the wanting to never believe again…
How many other firsts do you remember? How many of those are now cherished memories that could no longer be revisited or recreated.
As we get older and wiser, it seems we lose a very important part of our youth, belief. We become cynical to every new concept, and cold towards old ones. We loath the make believe and start to find things ‘childish’, we even start to find those who act ‘childish’ to be borderline annoying. We want truths and most of the time facts and figures are anything but “happy”, we want instant gratification, but find them unsatisfying, we want eternal love, but find that we no longer have the capacity to love in return.
I went to see the latest Indiana Jones film last week, and for the first time for as long as I remember my inner child took control. It didn't matter that it weren’t real or factual, it didn't matter that it was cheesy to the point of drippiness, or some of the scenes were so eye rollable you had to pick them off the floor. What mattered was that the hero wins, and the baddie loses, oh and explosions, lots and lots of explosions.
Like the first time I walked into the amazing, jaw dropping world of EverQuest. Or the first time I walked through the imposing door and guards at my primary school. Or the first time I heard the music of a choir in a church. It all came back to me so fast, and hit me so hard, that it left me reeling in my seat well after everything finished. It also left me with a realisation that I have recently been seeking but one that eluded me, barely out of grasp.
Sometimes it doesn’t matter what the facts are, it doesn’t matter who is better or who is more right. Sometimes all it matters is that you remember fairy tales do exist in a cynical world, that believing in the unbelievable will not always bring you pain, that sometimes the journey is well worth it that the outcome no longer matters, and most importantly, explosions, lots and lots of explosions…
