My mental health professionals have suggested that I be open and honest about my life. Therefore, I am making this confession.
I have become addicted to the Star Wars expanded Universe books. Specifically, the sequel series that started with Timothy Zahn’s Thrawn trilogy.
Yes, yes, I know.
Blame John Ostrander and his amazing Star Wars: Legacy comic from dark horse. In creating a main character that it equal parts Han Solo and Luke Skywalker, he sucked me in. And by constantly referring to things that had happened between Return of the Jedi and chronicled in the quasi-official canon of the Star Wars expanded Universe, he made me curious. Plus: Mara Jade. teh. awe. some.
So, anyway, I decided (rationalized) that I’ve been doing some heavy lifting in the brainal area lately, and so deserved to read something that was purely escapist.
And then I discovered Wookiepedia. Oh, the wonderful, damnable wookiepedia. Everything is there. Everything. Things you never knew you wanted to know, things you never needed to know, but now you wonder how you ever survived not knowing them. It’s like wikipedia on geek steroids.
They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.
So, I will allow myself to consume these mass-market cash-in pieces of questionable literature, on the justification that most of them are much better written than anything George Lucas has produced in the last ten years. Some of them may even be, objectively, good. I will obsess over them much as I did the original trilogy when I was 9 years old. I will enjoy my collection of action figures (yes, yes, I know), and I will pray to all that is holy that the new Star Trek isn’t any good so that I do not have to reactivate that ancient fanboy obsession as well.
And I will come to terms with the fact that this renders me unable to make fun of Twilight Fans.
No, I am not proud of myself.