Pictured here is my sophomore year college roommate, Dave, celebrating International Star Wars Day. Perched on his back, quite capably instructing him in the ways of The Force, is his son, Dashiell. I am not sure why Dave also appears to be carrying a small Easter basket, though I might just return to Catholicism again if it were made known that Jedi hid the Easter eggs.
The photo arouses insecurity in me because *I* wanna be the sci-fi movie geek in this town (“this town” being the entire Internet — I’m prone to delusions of grandeur). And now I find out that my old roommie Dave has way better sci-fi flick fan street cred than I do. So I have a whole new mid-life crisis to contend with.
I actually HAVE done cosplay, after a fashion. For years, I purchased my suits for work based on what members of The Syndicate wore in “The X-Files.” Nobody picked up on how awesome I was being. To enhance the effect and better represent Mulder’s nemeses, I spoke vaguely and elliptically to every question asked of me at the office, to conceal a nefarious underlying motive. No one appreciated the flourish, because, let’s face it, I pretty much do that most the time anyway.
Oh, well. I wish Dave well in his fandom, even if I resent the way he’s outshined me here. One, he was a sublimely nice guy in college, and his good nature was an effective counterpoint for my budding sociopathy. He was also a smart fella. After my mother gave me a small used bookcase for academic purposes, it was Dave who suggested that we turn it sideways against the wall to turn it into a bar. Jedi, indeed.
Two, I am also not quite as into Star Wars as many of my friends are. When I roomed with Dave at the age of 19 at Mary Washington College, I was neck deep in an obsession with “2001: A Space Odyssey” — both Arthur C. Clarke’s novel and Stanley Kubrick’s film adaptation. Of course I annoyed my moral better by endlessly quoting the movie at him. (His name, after all, is DAVE.)
“Just what do you think you’re doing, Dave? Dave, stop. Stop, Dave, won’t you? WHY DON’T YOU TAKE A STRESS PILL AND RELAX.”
The harassment finally ended when Dave stopped one day, and gave me a long, hard look, suggesting the ass-kicking I never got but probably deserved since a week after classes started. He told me, “You are TOO into that movie.”
Oh, well. Happy Star Wars Day, everyone. And Dave? You are NOT too into that movie. You rock.