Confession time: I am a nerd. A major, major nerd. The kind of nerd who told her best friend that it would “mean a lot to her” if they could watch the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy together. I’ve actually uttered the phrase: “It’s not called a comic book! It’s called a graphic novel!” on more than one occasion. I read Harry Potter fan fiction as a kid. I followed “Lost” conspiracy blogs. “Go to Comic-Con” is an item on my bucket list (For real. Are you embarrassed for me yet?). For the longest time I masked this part of myself by trying to find other identifiers by which I could be known. As a kid, I listened to the Backstreet Boys and played sports when all I ever wanted to do is curl up under my covers and read The Last Battle for the fifth time.
Looking back, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. My love for the epic fantasy has brought me more adventures (real and purely in my imagination) than I could have ever thought possible. As a kid, I was an essential character in an epic story. I found myself making decisions according to what Hermione would have done. I desired to be brave, like Eowyn. I was constantly trying to find portals to Narnia. While these could be considered childish sentiments, I’m still drawn to the same characters and stories as an
adult grown-up kid.
Who our heros are reveal who we desire to be. And knowing that is how we become “grown-ups.”
So yep, basically I’m still the 12 year old girl toting around the 3 volume set of Lord of the Rings in her monogramed LL Bean backpack. But I’m OK with that.