I am my own fantasy

So I've just watched "Hogfather" and it was good. For a Terry Pratchett adaption, it was superb given that so much of what makes Pratchett fun to read is the narrative, something you can't really do with a TV show. It worked and was both touching, funny and a little unnerving in parts, so all good, really.

And it got me thinking about the central theme, which is the notion of fantasy and how it gets us through the day:

Death: Humans need fantasy to be human. To be the place where the falling angel meets the rising ape.
Susan: With Tooth Faeries, Hogfathers?
Death: Yes. As practice you have to start out learning to believe the little lies.
Susan: So we can believe the big ones?
Death: Yes. Justice, mercy, duty, that sort of thing.

And given that I am prone to think about the nature of existence in the shower, in lieu of any greater mental challenge whilst washing, I wondered if this was a pretty good point. For the past couple of years I have entertained the fantasy of growing up - The pretty wife, the house, the car, the mediocre middle-class friends - which suddenly struck me as a) One of the reasons my last relationship crumbled without me realising it and b) As a total waste of my fantasy.

I mean, if you fantasise about some responsible, upright future, what the hell are you doing? I should be fantasising about more... Fantastical things. Not some fucking idealised tedium that I may well slip into without really doing anything to cause it to happen. It seemed so dull. I'll use my conscious, important time for that. Hell, I'm entering a career where there will a surfeit of reality, of the real nasty side of existence. I shouldn't spend the time in my head dreaming about becoming a lassez-faire suburbanite, should I? Did it really give me any pleasure? Given that so much of my future was based on dreams, should I be so entirely surprised that my ex left me? Not because I was constantly off in some fantasy land, but rather that I was planning a future, one that left nothing to the imagination. Thats not the way a relationship should be based and it's not what my "me" time should be used for.

Is it?

As a foot-note, I've noticed that my mother bought me a pair of boxer-shorts (surely the best underwear in the world?) that have "Think of England" on the bottom of one leg. Is she trying to suggest to me an alternative lifestyle choice? D: