When I was a teenager, I was obsessed with Star Wars. I mean OBSESSED. Whatever you’re picturing right now, it’s not enough. I had the works: bedroom walls covered in posters of Skywalkers, bookshelves and DVD cases lined with Lucasfilm licensed media, and an encyclopedic (or should that be Wookieepedic?) knowledge of every word, music cue, and sound effect in the two trilogies.
There are also other, far more embarassing examples: when my year 8 English teacher asked the class to make a poetry book, I mainly based mine around Star Wars plotlines and character relationships, even lifting a promotional image for Episode II: Attack of the Clones for the front cover. And when I set up my first email address, mine was sith_princess_silv at hotmail dot com.
