So, I listened to Conner Habib's episode of the Sewers of Paris, and I gotta say, it was a weird one for me.
Not weird as in, I think this guy is weird; Weird as in, I share qualities with another person that I never thought I could share. For a split second, I realized that my imagination is very similar to that of another human being's, and that made me feel very comfortable.
When he started to get into how he wanted super powers, and he practiced witchcraft as a kid, and believed he was some sort of hero, I just thought: Oh, I just did that this morning. Imagine if I was on a team of super-heroes that were given the mission to save the world? Yup, that was this morning.
Yeah, sometimes when my brain is tired, I'll play super-hero in my head, and that'll rock the infant-mind asleep. I've been trying to look up the name of this, because there's gotta be a certain anti-social disorder for this type of glorified delusion, but I haven't found any aside from having an inflated ego or messiah complex, and even those are a stretch. I really identified with Conner when he said he just didn't want to be boring. (Is that what he said, or did I make that up?) He just wanted something more.
Imagining you can whip out your powers at a moment's notice and save the world is like living in a special type of hell where you think so grandly of yourself, while being so incredibly basic. It's child's play, but in me at least, it tends to veer towards what I'm writing at the moment or what complex idea I'm working through, and after it's written down, it slowly vanishes. I've worked through a lot of personal and writing issues this way. My comic book-like image will bleed into all my other ideas (mind you, I do not read comics), and suddenly the illusion I drafted in my head has materialized, and it looks different and not tangible at all. I don't mean to compare myself to Picasso, but I'm sure he saw a method to his madness, and I do too.
I sometimes wonder if this is what it's like to be a comic book writer, because I'm too attracted to stories that rival biblical epidemics. I will draw-up stories that seem larger than life that I somehow identify with because, although seen through the eyes of a problematic and imaginary caricature, have to exist in some other world or universe that is tangible. The genetic material it takes to make a giant fish monster may not be here on Earth, but it could be on Proxima B. Humans have discovered many other planets that quite possibly can hold life. Don't tell me the fish monsters I imagine myself fighting can't exist too! I'm kidding; fish monsters are so blase and immature.
Listening to Conner took me back to why I play imaginary games with myself, and I think it really has to do with not letting the inner child go. I grew up relatively sheltered, despite it being the hood, with an oddly conservative family. It makes sense that I hold onto the formula of my escape. I've noticed that when I live on my own, I daydream a lot more, but the ideas always seem less steeped in some sort of augmented reality. In that instance, they fade away, and whenever I imagine them again later, I legit can't remember ever having imagined them in the first place. Like it never happened, and my brain pushed it out to the very edge. I wrote an idea down that I thought I had ripped off from Marvel comics awhile ago; turns out that a ninja transexual had never been written. And for good reason: It sucks.
Of course, it could be all about execution... I'll revisit ninja transexual.
By the way, I'm pretty sure playing witch-hero is like a child's coping mechanism from when something shocking happens to them at a young age, so I will not be surprised if I uncover later in life that I was sexually assaulted or something twisted like that. Surprise, surprise, my conscious knew all along and decided to fuck with me. Or, that's what indie LGBT movies taught me. Does anyone remember that Joseph Gordon-Levitt movie Skin? Who played the molested kid? Or was that another movie? Did I imagine that? Forget it, I'll check later.
In conclusion, there is nothing wrong with you Conner Habib. You have an active imagination, and I understand you're older than me, but maybe we can get a drink sometime and share our deepest most embarrassing memories along with the fakest spells we've ever used.
Just an anecdote: In seventh grade I thought I was a gothic witch, and the only thing that snapped me out of it was stumbling on an invisibility spell that did not work and sounded pretty hokey. So, I hung up my steel-beaded necklace and my Blink 182 shirts and decided to call myself an art freak. Also, I did not understand what "goth" was and, years later, I realized I just wanted to be liked by what I kinda suspected at the time were the other losers in middle school. I do not apologize for that, because as a result, I learned a lot about the occult, much like Conner Habib, and I learned a lot about ancient mythology. Eh, you live and you learn.