A Fundamental Change?

Was alone in a big ol' 3 bedroom house in backwaters Westport a few days ago. There's only so many episodes of 'My Very Spoilt Sweet Sixteen' that I can stomach in an hour (congratulations MTV, you have upped the ante on vomit- inducing TV programs since Jackass), so I decided to watch an episode of The X-Files before I turned in.

Du-du-du-du-du-du

The opening sequence to any episode of The X-Files has become so ingrained in our minds that it isn't an understatement to say it is well and truly part of pop/sci fi culture. The trademark synthesised piano notes that echo followed by the shrill, alien wailing composed by Mark Snow has pretty much etched itself in our collective audio memories, sending a shiver down our spines whenever those eerie notes start to play in our head. Except, this time, I wasn't as scared as I was 10 years ago.

Where I used to have the heebie-jeebies just hearing those notes, I now find myself amused at what it used to be able to do to me. I used to be scared of things imaginary. Walking up a dark stairwell I would sometimes picture myself bumping into something scaly, cold blooded, red-eyed and downright scary, I would then proceed to run down said stairwell and scream for my Mum. Or sometimes, during one of my sleepless nights, I would imagine myself catching sight of an emaciated Golem like creature gnawing on my toes.

But now, age 23, I don't have such an active imagination anymore. Instead, during the course of the episode, I find myself getting paranoid over all the groans and scuffles the old house emits from time to time. What could that sound be? Robbers breaking in? Crazed lunes knocking on my window? Drunk bogans smashing into my car? Or worst of all, armed racist serial killers after a quick kill?

Which begs the question: When did our imaginations stop? What was the fundamental change in us that triggered a halt in our over active imaginations? We don't fear anything beyond the realm of extreme possibility anymore. At this rate, my fears in the next 10 years will probably involve bank statements, mortgages, hire purchase bills, spousal fidelity, bills, dental insurance, terrorists, bills and more bills. Whatever happened to our flights of fancy? Gone are the days where we could dream about racing in a car that drives, flies, dives and does a smoking wheely... underwater!! What do we have if we don't have our imaginations? What a grim time we live in when our very own imaginations pander to the realist inside of us. What a grim time indeed.