Still Waiting For My Hogwarts Acceptance Letter

On the very edge of our seats, we wait to be saved from the parts of our lives that we have deemed void of vitality.

Going to a midnight premiere is like wearing a giant badge that says “Warning Fan-girl.” Everyone remembers their first premiere when it’s something they love. At my first, teenage girls huddled and giggled to each other. The smell of buttery popcorn wafted around the theatre, and the tacky all-too-stereotypical dark carpet with strange 80’s patterns was due for an intense cleaning. I tried to put aside many expectations. I had worried for months that they wouldn’t get the movie right, that nothing could be better than the book.

The theatre doors opened and I pushed my elbows out, daring any screaming girl to try and push her way past me. Deceivingly uncomfortable red pallet seats waited for me to choose which one I would consider for optimal viewing. I got as comfortable as I could, ready to be taken away by the world before me.

The theatre was silent as The Hunger Games credits rolled. I expected people to clap, but no one did. Some left the theatre right away, but I stayed and let the images of every battle scene flow through my mind. Katniss drew back her bow and stuck down her enemy in less than a second. It was magic to see such a world, even if it was just on screen. I couldn’t help the itch in the back of my mind. I imagined the make of my own bow and arrows. I felt the touch of the string as it passed my cheek and let an arrow glide into the air. My mind didn’t see the road when I drove home. It saw the bountiful forests of District 12 and the sod that was lying on every shingle roof. I fell asleep knowing the awe of the Capitol’s magnificent skyscrapers. The next morning was different. An alarm thrust me from the escape and back into reality. I had a life to live, and the unfortunate privilege called school.

Writers have the power to do more than entertain or question an audience. They have the power to create worlds, realities and stories that take us away from our own. They come flying in on a Phoenix’s wings, and take us to lands where the impossible is possible, where we have the power to be whoever we want to be, and where we have the power to choose whatever we want to. It is an escape from day-to-day life.

Escapism is everywhere in our society. It is the excited atmosphere of a movie theatre. It is the constant curiosity of a bookstore, and it’s the fascination that glows in every child’s mind when they realize the potential of their imagination. It is the thrill that makes you sit on the edge of your theatre chair waiting to see if the hero will make it out. It is the awe that shivers through your spine when your eyes take in every detail of a new world. It is the suspense between pages that makes you read like a mad man, and it is pure entertainment. Harald Warmelink, a professor from Delft University of Technology, said, “In a way, we seem to be escaping all the time, through either books, movies, and sports or simply the power of our minds. One might even argue that escapism is a ‘mantra of Western society’”

Entertainment has been rooted in our species for centuries. Perhaps it started with creation stories shared around a fire. Or perhaps it started with cautionary tales, to send goosebumps down children’s slender arms. It’s built into who we are. We wish to be fascinated and amazed, but what in our day-to-day lives provokes us to go crawling into the warm embrace of escapism?

Escapism can be defined as an avoidance, distraction, or relief from reality. Are our lives so unpleasant that we must find happiness in other forms, or are we only amazed by what escapism can offer? Have we become desensitized to the world around us and the tales and legends our own world may hold?

I’ve been fascinated with fantasy for as long as I can remember. My mother and I would read Harry Potter books together every night. After hugs and reassurances that there were no monsters in my closet, the lights would turn off. I would lie in my bed and stare at the unusual patterns on my popcorn ceiling before going to sleep. While my eyes tried to see if the bumps on the ceiling matched with the constellations in the sky, my mind was in another place and time.

I was in Hogwarts where cobblestone bricks lined the walls, and mysterious treacheries were around every corner. A new Dark Lord came forward to try and cause my destruction. His henchmen lined the staircases, and hallways stalked by ghosts. We were trapped, but little did he know that I was the girl who had survived the Avada Kedavra Curse, but didn’t need a famous scar to prove it. Harry, Hermione, and Ron followed me into battle, and I was armed with my very own wand. Spells were cast, potions were made, fights were fought and the Dark Lord found his doom to the tip of my wand.

This was my world, my own version of me, and my own heroic tale. The annoying Moaning Myrtle wasn’t allowed here. It was bliss, and it was a fantasy. Perhaps I liked it so much because I could take my bullies and portray them as the pathetic Draco Malfoy. I could stand up to them there. I could give them back what they deserved, or I could choose to show them love instead. I would become a stronger, braver, and better version of myself. I ran away from the afraid, uncertain little girl I was. I didn’t have to go to school and get teased for the way I looked or dressed. Here, in my dream world, I gave myself super powers that wouldn’t be possible in the real world. I didn’t have to be afraid.

Hogwarts was part of my childhood, as it was to many other children, but I wonder if the escapism I found through this fantasy was benefiting me, or pushing me farther away from reality.

Escapism can have two effects on one’s life. It can be a healthy practice, in which one can release or experience new emotions, where one can grow imagination and learn through viewing and reading. These are the children who ran around with sticks and housecoats hoping, impatiently, that one day they would receive their letter from Hogwarts. Parents smiled at their innocence.

The other effect is the itch that never seems to go away, the need to escape into something better, so we can leave behind what is not. This can be used to fill a void or a longing that one cannot find in our own reality.

My eccentric and lovable roommate screams at the top of her lungs to the TV in our living room. We’re playing Super Smash Bros, a regular on Saturday mornings. She’s beaten me, yet again. She slinks into her chair and wears a triumphant look upon her face.

“Nice try, but you’re no match for Pikachu.” Her face lights up when she taunts me.

She’s had a love for Pokémon since she was a kid. Her love for Pokémon is dangerously balancing between sentimental childhood fantasy and obsession. The situation made me wonder what other fantasies she might have locked in her head, so I asked.

“I’m 19 years old, and I’m still waiting for the fucking Hogwarts Express to come pick me up.” My roommate throws a fit from her chair. Her face contorted between the giant wide eyes of fascination and then the blank and sorrowful expressions of disappointment and sadness. The escape, no matter how magical and beneficial it was to her childhood mindset, stayed with her through the years. It may not have turned into a lifelong obsession, but it is a smoldering hope, waiting for the impossible to be true.

There is always a part of me that longs to stumble across some radioactive meteorite that shot out of the sky and blasted its way to the surface of my reality. My life could be exciting! Filled with car chases, excruciating battles, and that moment of absolute relief and joy when you realize you’ve done it. You’ve won. It seems much better than the routine of rolling yourself out of bed and using force to send a searing hot cup of Joe down your throat just so you can get through the day. Where’s the excitement in being able to loathe your part-time job and waiting around for Friday when you can loathe a villain and wait around for the climactic fight scene instead? This is where escapism overruns its course: when one finds themself caught up in the excitement of a story that overshadows the dullness of their life.

I am a film fiend. There is a craving inside me that always pleads to explore the realms of a new film. To breathe in the cinematography and sound. To see the little details that are often overlooked, and most importantly find a new world to disappear to. Escapism is a bridge for us to run from our own demons. It is Halloween that comes every day and allows us to dress up and be whoever we want. As I try on costume after costume and fight villain after villain, that morning cup of Joe gets bigger, and it’s harder for me to take gratitude and reflection in everyday life.

Søren Kierkegaard, a Danish author, wrote, “Boredom is the root of all evil - the despairing refusal to be oneself.” My life was boring. I used to sit by my living room window and watch the neighbourhood children play outside, but I would never join them. I didn’t have the motivation to put effort into making my life interesting. I wanted it all to be easy and come naturally, but life is never easy. I was running from myself.

A person can get trapped inside their mind once it becomes obsessed with the infinite possibilities of fantasy. This is seen in obsession, the fantasies in our minds, and the fascination with reality slipping away as it does when every child gets older. In an article from WiseGeek, it was stated that, “Some people argue that those who get excessively involved as fans of certain television shows or series of books are pursuing an unhealthy level of escapism. For example, people look to Trekkies, or comic books fans that dress up or attempt to live as their favorite characters, as having lost themselves in escapism.” Maybe the key to escapism is embracing both worlds.

Literature, films, any piece of story can teach me a lesson about my reality that I can’t see. They allow me to experience personal growth without having to go through that growth in reality. Fantasies can inspire me when I let them. Perhaps it’s time for my imagination to leave the fantasy in which it survives and branch over to reality. This could allow me to see the potential I am missing in my life. Every day my bare feet touch the ground after waking is a chance for me to make my own life. I am a being that lives on excitement, conflict, and resolution, and for some time I have been satisfied with the thrill others bring to me.

We all have the potential to be heroes, villains, and sidekicks. If escapism can teach us anything it’s that we have the potential to be all three.

Red pallet seats sit empty in the theatre. Workers come in, and bang their brooms and dustpans, obviously annoyed by my presence. My heart tightens after the silence at the end of The Hunger Games sequel, Catching Fire. It means it’s over. The world that lit up in front of me had its time. By now most had retreated home to warm beds with satisfied minds, but I couldn’t leave, because what I just saw wasn’t just a movie, it was an experience. It’s my favorite part of fantasy. Every story has something for me to learn from.

Escapism was never meant to make me forget about reality or the possibilities of reality. It was meant to slap me on the face and give me something new to work within my life, to give myself a new goal to strive for, a new lesson to learn, and new things to hope for. Escapism teaches me the power of imagination, potential, and discovery. It dares me to switch off autopilot and pick up an Indiana Jones hat for myself. There may not be Death Eaters or Capitol peacekeepers, but there will be dangers, there will be discovery, there will be conflict, there will be lessons, and most of all there will be victories.