...that, at least twice a week, I earnestly, seriously, intentionally try and use the Force? You know, in the way that you did when you were a kid: concentrate intensely on, say, the light switch across the room; furrow your brow; reach out a hand and try and turn it off.
It's a vestigial part of my childhood, one that hasn't atrophied and withered away in the years since. But I vividly remember sitting in my childhood room, giddy with Star Wars fervor, trying to become one with all things and make stuff move with my mind.
I don't know what I'm expecting, trying it today, because I know that it will never happen. But I try just the same. (Not that I make time for it or anything. Tuesday, 3:45 pm: Use Force.) Otherwise, how would I know that I didn't develop telekinesis overnight? Seriously, how would a superhero know he was superheroic unless he tried to perform superhuman feats on a regular basis? Unless you tried to lift a bus, how would you know you could? (Again, I'm not an idiot: That logic does not extend to jumping off shit to prove that I could fly or taking a hot round to the chest.)
I guess I'm just waiting for the world to surprise me. In a good way.