I'm 30 Going On 7.

Here's a typical scenario in my life.  My wife and I have someone over to the house for the first time.  The obligatory tour is given. "Oh, I like that couch," "Those cabinets really look good," "I really like how you painted that." (For the record the voice I had in my head while I was typing that last sentence was that of Fran Drescher.)

As we come to the end of the tour, someone inevitably asks, "What's in there?"  Then,  half proud,  half mortified, I look at our guests and say, "Prepare to never think of me the same way again." Then I open the door. As the lights go on in my Wonka-Factory-Like Star Wars room, their eyes widen, give a cursory glance around the perimeter, and say "Why do you have all this stuff?"

Truth is, I have no idea.

I have collected Star Wars toys since 1995.  I was a Sophomore in High School, and I was immediately enthralled by a new line of Star Wars toys called "The Power of the Force." They were bright, and red, and orange, and shiny, and Luke, and Vader and I had to have them.  All of them.  But why?

I have gone back and forth on this many a time.  And I have come to the conclusion that there is no rhyme nor reason to a collection such as mine. In a certain way it recaptures my youth, and actually greatly expands upon it. When I was growing up, everyone wanted every Star Wars toy imaginable.  My brother and I had 5. Total.  Between the two of us.  So maybe somehow having all this stuff allows me to fulfill a childhood fantasy.

Or maybe the more accurate answer is much simpler. I'm freakin' insane.

I am well aware that it is not normal to stalk a Wal-Mart toy department at 2:00 AM, waiting for them to get down the Star Wars toy cases located on the bottom of a pallet, so that I may hope to find a Darth Vader, Green Card, .01, Micro Saber, Shiny Hilt.  (Right now someone is reading this and knows exactly what I'm talking about.)

I know that it is unhealthy to wait for a 7 year old kid to put down the action figure he is parading around with, begging his mother to buy.  We all know he isn't gonna get it.  And I really need that R2-D2.

I further know that most "normal" adults do not dedicate significant portions of their time researching, cataloguing, bidding on, or trading 3 3/4" pieces of plastic shaped like characters from a 30 year old movie franchise.

But I do. And I love it.

There is nothing more satisfying than finding the one item you've been searching for, abandoned on a Target toy shelf, marked down for clearance.  There is nothing more rewarding than helping a fellow collector track down an item they have been unsuccessful at finding. There is nothing more exhilarating than finally getting the last piece to complete a series.

Truth be told, the awkward look of bewilderment on the faces of my guests is pretty damn rewarding, too.

All in all, I don't know why I obsessively collect Star Wars merchandise. And I don't have to.

No more for now.

Tad