Life is never THAT dramatic, Part 1: Saving the World

Life is never as dramatic as you think it will be.  There are always dramatic moments: proposals, promotions, break-ups, deaths, first kisses.  All of these are big dramatic moments, ones that stand out in your mind for years to come.

But these moments often pale in comparison to those whose lives are truly dramatic, those people who live on the edge in lives filled with adrenaline, with complications, with life or death moments.  Most of the time, I would never be jealous of those kinds of lives -- the drama that accompanies them, that makes them so alive, is very often dangerous (whether it be physically or emotionally) and at the very least, extremely stressful.

Thus, it's an accepted fact that, in the grand scheme of things, most lives are boring.  The world couldn't sustain 7 billion lives of high action, drama, and danger long-term; nothing small but crucial would get done, because who would choose to be a janitor or an office clerk if they could be off running around doing something amazing? Hell, who would choose to be a teacher, like me, if I could be off saving the world?

Few people are heroes. There are some, like the military, who are qualified as heroes simply by means of their jobs, but true heroes are few and far between.  Life simply doesn't demand that of us; life instead demands small courages, the courage to work hard at your job or relationship, the courage to accept and complete your responsibilities, the courage to summon reserves of stamina you didn't know you had and keep going in the face of any number of stresses and minor defeats.

Life doesn't ask many of us to risk our lives every day. It simply doesn't demand that kind of commitment; you can choose to live your life fully or sit back and let it pass by, or find a happy medium where you can relax and enjoy the ride.

I love my life, but it can be boring.  Like all lives can be boring, I suppose; I've never met someone who had a break-neck speed, drama filled life all the time (or at least, someone who had that and was happy). Lots of big, drama-filled moments have made my life amazing or awful, depending: births, divorces, proposals, marriages, and more.  But around those moments, life is often boring.

That isn't to say that this sense of boredom is bad; it's not, and in fact I firmly believe that it's totally normal. I love the life I lead -- movie nights with my husband, hanging out with my family, teaching reading and writing, enjoying time with my friends -- but my life is mundane.  There is little extraordinary about it.  I will work hard at my job for many years, and if I am lucky, I will make a small impact in my field.  My husband and I will work our asses off to keep our marriage alive and if we are lucky, we will succeed.  If I am very lucky, the work I do in all aspects of my life will allow me to be happy, to have a life I enjoy in the moment and can be proud of at the end.

No matter how hard I try, I will never save the world.

This, in a nutshell, is why I love fiction so much, why I love video games and novels and superhero movies.  I won't be able to save the world.  I will never have a romance as beautiful, or as desperate, as those in Mass Effect 3 or Dragon Age: Inquisition.  My contributions will never matter like Shepard’s or the Champion of Kirkwall’s.  It isn't a question of abilities, or love, or anything else I could control or influence; it is a simple fact of the world in which I live and nothing more.

When the world demands sacrifice, everything burns a little hotter.  When the world is as dangerous as it is in a video game, when hostile forces expound upon you at every turn, life might be short-lived and occasionally terrifying, but it is also electrifying in its intensity. 

I am not trying to trivialize those who do face lives like these.  I know it happens -- people fight in wars in the real world, and death and disease rip apart lovers and families the world over.  And some do have the kind of love that lives in video games because they are faced with the sad truth of such a short, desperate amount of time.  In the real world I would never want to trade places, not for anything.

Even so, there are times when I wish my own life was more exciting, was more desperate, was more centered on a single purpose.  I could give it one, I know that.  But if I declare that I will live my life for the cause of education, in all forms and at the expense of all other pursuits, I will still never have a life like a video game.  They are the ultimate escape from a life of routine, a life of comfortable necessity and an understandable, acceptable status quo.  That status quo, as comforting as it is, can occasionally be stifling, especially as I open up a game and within moments, am going about saving the world.

The ultimate human desire might be to feel needed -- like someone, somewhere, depends on you for something.  I can attest to this in terms of my job and relationships, parents would likely say the same for their children, and so on.  Being part of a community, where each has a role and a place to support, is important to human existence.

Even so, no one will ever need me to step up to the plate and sacrifice it all for the rest of the world.  But in these games, when I have the chance to step outside my life and destroy the Reapers, or save the galaxy, or take down dragons, or unify a country, or stand up to a thousand year old mage, someone does need me to save the world.

Something about that fulfills me, even as it crushes me with the banality of everyday life.

Games offer such an incredible escape that I am honestly surprised that more adults don’t play them.  Some days, as I am overwhelmed with grading and laundry and traffic and the sinking feeling that there’s only baking soda and expired milk left in my fridge, I look forward to leaping into a game where none of that matters.  No one in any game (perhaps ever!) worries about whether or not their bathroom needs cleaning, and I relish that escape, if only for a few hours.