Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Here's a story I don't think I've ever told the world, and should tell you all you need to know about me:
When I was young - and we're talking under the age of seven here, I was convinced that if you wished for something hard enough, it would occur. This was one of my more reasonable beliefs at this age. On the day in question, I decided that I wanted to have the superpowers of "The Vision", a lesser known Marvel superhero. (His Wikipedia entry is here, for those of you that really care. And who wouldn't?)
One of the key things about The Vision was his ability to change the density of his body - he could become as hard as diamond, or as ethereal as mist. This mist thing was the bit I was keen on - for then I could walk through walls, just like The Vision. Quite why this appealed to me so much at this age is lost in the mists of decayed synapse pathways. And gin.
So I wished, and I wished, and I wished, eyes scrunched up and straining almost to the point of forcing a hernia. Then, having determined that I had wished hard enough to achieve my goal, I decided to test my new Vision powers on the nearest wall.
Imagine my surprise when I bounced off.
Now I am sure that most children at this point would realise the folly of this whole wish/superpower belief system and move one step closer to the healthy cynicism of adulthood.
Not me though. Oh no.
I came to the conclusion that my wishing system was working just fine. It was the execution of my super powers that needed work.
Put simply, I needed a run-up.
And so I did. I ran full pelt at a concrete wall. I'll repeat that for those of you skimming. I ran full pelt at a concrete wall. Oh yes. I was knocked senseless with a lump on my head the size of an egg.
And the moral of the story? I don't know. Pick one. Something about futility, or the power of imagination, or the folly of youth. Something like that. Knock yourself out.
Or rather, don't.