I am seriously obsessed with fantasy series.
One of my earliest memories is of reading children’s books brimming with unicorns and fairies. I like to think my tastes have matured as I have, but unfortunately all that has happened is the infantile unicorns have been replaced by the much more sophisticated trolls and orcs.
My love for The Lord of the Rings was instilled in me from a young age. My family’s copies of the books are old and well-loved — they have to be held together with a tangle of rubber bands. I had a pair of boots in elementary school I was convinced looked like “elf shoes” and wore well past their time, giving myself bunions. When the movies came out, my passion for Middle Earth was rejuvenated to the point where friends refused to watch them with me to avoid hearing me recite the lines for the entire three-hour sagas.
Harry Potter was a whole other story. Whereas The Lord of the Rings was something so ingrained in me I cannot remember when it all started, I vividly remember opening The Sorcerer’s Stone for the first time. I remember getting The Deathly Hallows when it came out and digging a hole for myself in my closet to evade interruption until the end, crying sporadically. How old was I, you ask? Don’t. The Harry Potter series was an integral part of my childhood. It has always, and will always, hold a special place in my heart — worryingly toeing the “obsession” line.
Much to my dismay, the last Lord of the Rings movie came and left, and the Potter franchise succumbed to the grave — and I felt adrift. I assured myself, “I am an adult now and must read and watch adult things.” But no matter how many times I tried to crack open Team of Rivals or Everyone Poops, I knew there was something missing.
Finally, I found it: the next installment in the fantasy obsession. It all started with the opening theme: “Bum bum, ba da dum dum, ba da dum bum, ba da dum …” and a camera pan over Westeros and across the Narrow Sea.
I honestly could rave about Game of Thrones until my face turned purple. It has it out for me. It’s trying to turn me into one of those people who sets images of the characters as their Facebook profile pictures. I am inches away from teaching myself High Valyrian, but the only person who would listen would be my cat. I want a dragon.
I learned about the show roughly two seasons in. This allowed me to watch all the episodes all at once, indulging in my appetite for instant gratification — more Jon Snow! More whiny King’s Landing drama! Why watch reality television when you could watch a fantasy version of reality TV? Real Housewives of Atlanta has nothing on the female powers-that-be in the capital of the Seven Kingdoms.
Unfortunately, having fully caught up, my watching is now spread out across seven day segments. I spend each second counting down until the next episode, which I then naturally watch everyday until the following premier. I find myself anxiously drifting in and out of Game of Thrones daydreams in class, wondering what will happen next, who will go where, who will die or get married. I don’t have time for actual people anymore. Sorry, guys. The Starks are my real best friends.
The really good news about this series, other than it being the most brilliant thing ever, is that there is no end in sight for the books — meaning the same must be for the TV show. Endless Game of Thrones! A dream come true for a closet addict like me.
Now if only it could be Sunday already.
Emily can be reached at e.churchill@cavalierdaily.com
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