The Tiny Blue Room

The Tiny Blue Room is not actually blue. Let me make that clear. The walls are white, but the closet (which is proportionately tiny to the room it accompanies) is an inexplicable faded pink color. There are mirrors attached to both the door and the closet door. I don't know why; I thought one would be enough, but perhaps the previous resident thought differently.

The room itself is not outrightly visible when one walks in the front door nor through the dining room from the kitchen. It's tucked in the corner next to the somewhat shoddy upstairs bathroom. It is the smallest bedroom in our whole house. It is also the room I'll be living in for the next year.

I'm still on the fence about our new house. I know that once we settle in, and clear out the boxes and rearrange the furniture, I'll feel better about it all. Yesterday could have been a huge disaster: there was a mix-up on the company's end concerning our rental moving truck, and after a series of flailing and confusion and phone calls, we were able to actually move into the new place two days early. We checked out of our old apartment an hour earlier than we were scheduled to this morning, and the majority of the moving was done yesterday. Alisha still has some things coming tomorrow, but other than that, we're all done. It's just a matter of unpacking, organizing, and rearranging.

But then there's the issue with my tiny room. It's roughly 2/3 the size of the room I lived in at the old apartment, and I am at a loss as to what I should do with it. There's technically only one logical place for my bed if I want to get my desk in and have room to put my clothes. I have room for only one bookshelf, but that's not much of an issue because one of my bookshelves will be out in the living room, as will my TV and DVDs.

The upstairs living room is really wide and open, which is a huge plus. There's a faux-fireplace on one wall, and there are two big windows, which allows for a lot of light. The general arrangement of the ground floor is great. The floors creak a little, but it adds character. The basement, with the exception of the scary laundry room, is also fairly comfy, though it doesn't feel as open as the upstairs. Overall the house is alright. A little shabby, a little rough around the edges, but after we settle in, it will feel more like home.

Yesterday I purchased a fish-patterned shower curtain, and it has brightened up our shabby bathroom. Emma and Prairie bought an inflatable frog-shaped kiddie pool--complete with fountain--to celebrate having a back yard. We have a growing list of things to do now that we're moved in, but at least the hard part is over.

I shouldn't be so harsh on the Tiny Blue Room. What with the way my roommates and I had decided who'd be living where, and the fact that I was essentially last in claiming a room, it is only fair. And I hated myself for being so disappointed yesterday afternoon as I walked through it the first time. We have a decent house to live in. But when there are expectations, and you get so invested in them...

So. Many. Feelings.

The Tiny Blue Room does have a ceiling fan and two windows, one on each wall that faces the back and side yards. So much light can come into the room, and if you open the blinds, you can see the blue of the sky.

Rainy Friday

It's currently raining. Such a calming thing. There's a little bit of thunder, too. As much as I don't want it to be raining as we're loading stuff tomorrow, I do love it, especially now.

Just an observation. I leave you with "Rain" by Mika.*

*Also "Rain" by The Beatles, which is another great song appropriate to the beauty of this moment. Well, for the most part. 

Packing Day [Whatever Number]

Mom and Dad came to help me pack some stuff yesterday after I was off work. I showed Mom what stuff was mine in the kitchen, and she started packing it away because I was at a loss as to how to pack it all. (So many breakables...) I sat with Dad and Alisha as I ate the chinese food they had brought for me and we talked, listening first to Tommy James & the Shondells and then Hootie & the Blowfish and Madonna. I pulled out book boxes that were ready to go and we packed up the back seat of the Marquis with as many things as possible.

Dad's coming to help on Saturday, and then again on Monday when we can finally move into the house. Since I've been up I've been trying to sort through everything that's left in my room. My iPod is hooked up to my stereo and I've had it on shuffle for the last few hours. How did I get this much stuff? I'm finding random things and odd trinkets and more books--I swear I keep finding them and wondering how my room was able to hold everything--and stuff that hard to pack together because they're either

1. awkwardly shaped/weighted OR
2. difficult to fit into the containers or boxes I have.

I don't know how it's going to go. I'm going to do some more packing this afternoon, and then I plan to go to a pub crawl with my coworkers for the summer later tonight. Tomorrow, I'll have to make sure EVERYTHING is ready to go so that Saturday goes smoothly. And tomorrow is either the final day of our internet or the day it's turned off completely, so that's going to be interesting. (I'm hoping for the former so I can check my email).

Many thoughts. I'll be glad when we're all moved in on Monday.

Peeta and Gale and Various HG Goodness

I am satisfied as of this point. I know there's been a lot of back and forth about the casting choices, but I have faith in these two (and the more we see from it the more intrigued I become). There is a kind of Book Peeta and Book Gale vibe from this. I'm not sure how to describe it yet; it should be a little easier to explain after we see more. (By the way, did you see this, this, or this? Related: when are we going to see a trailer? I've been very patient...)

I'm just excited to see the movie and what they do with it. If they can get it right, it will be incredible.

[Image source.]

The Week from You Know Where

I hate moving. I've had to do it at least twice in the last year and a half, and I have been dreading this day for, oh, six months or so.

It's not that I don't like the idea of living elsewhere. The house we're moving into, though I have yet to see the inside of it, provides us with a lot of space--which is awesome. And it has a basement complete with a laundry room, so that means relaxing/no need to get laundry quarters again for awhile. The house is going to be pretty amazing, and I can't wait to settle in.

Saturday is our move-out day, and Monday is our move-in day. Sunday is going to be that weird limbo where I technically will be homeless. Alisha and I plan to stay in a motel so we may be able to have a real night's sleep on real beds.

But honestly? It's the process of getting to that point that is driving me insane. I'm working most of the week. My plan to have been packed by two days ago was thwarted due to a lot of work shifts after my class ended at the beginning of the month. I find myself overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff I still need to do before moving (and before the semester starts back up again). I'm worried about transporting all the stuff I have; over five years I have acquired a small library and many movies, and I'm a pack rat, so that doesn't help. I am not sure about any possible help yet for the actual moving part yet; I have asked Heidi, but she isn't sure about whether she'll be able to help yet, and as my mom is working this weekend, and my dad's shoulder out of commission...It is all too much for me to handle at the moment.

It doesn't help that my roommates and I are all on edge, and letting the stress vent itself in the form of annoyed bitchiness most of the time in conversation. This isn't helping my mind state at all; I have done my share of snapping at everyone, but it is difficult to alter one's attitude when being attacked, seemingly, from most directions. I mean, perhaps a lot of the frustration is in my head (moving stresses me out SO MUCH), and I'm only imagining most of the tension...but there is still something there. The consolation is that by this time next week, it will have disappeared. Until then, however...

Too many things to think about right now.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch:

• Turns out that Kurt's graduation doesn't mean he's leaving Glee. Brad Falchuk cleared it up at ComicCon. Wooohooo! Words cannot express my relief; Glee doesn't seem like Glee if Rachel, Finn, and Kurt--arguably the most prominent cores of the emotional plot--are not there to take part in some way. Especially Kurt, since he is a character so many are invested in, including myself. (Note: This may be acceptable after a few more seasons, but for right now, it's much too soon to see them go for good.) Related: I never thought I'd be this connected to a television show. This is basically the only one I have stuck with since first watching it, and I'm not much of a TV person at all. It blows my mind. The show is incredible.
• The Glee Project, while still annoying me from time to time, is alright. I'm still not fond of the stupid drama bits they tend to insert here and there--I find it incredibly distracting--but I am really intrigued with the casting process. I was sad when Matheus was sent home--it doesn't feel the same without him--I don't like Lindsay's "can't ever go wrong" demeanor, and I really, really want Hannah to win. She seems the most genuine to me, and I would love to see what kind of character she could bring to the show. 
• I have purchased The Invention of Hugo Cabret and intend to read it as soon as we're moved into the new house. More on this later; but rest assured I am STOKED to read it. 
• Prairie and I went to Waldenbooks on Sunday to check out the blowout sale. Regardless of the fact the discounts weren't as good as I had hoped (I saved only $6), it was surreal and very tragic to think that in mere weeks, Borders will have disappeared. So many feelings....
• This is probably going to be the thing that gets me through the next week and a half. I am so excited to see Struck by Lightning. It is sure to be awesome. Did you know that Chris Colfer wrote the script for it?* 
• Reason #1974626475 why Matthew Lewis is awesome**: He and I share the same passion and associated feelings for Beatles music. And we agree on the best Beatles album. Also, microwaved scrambled eggs? No words. 
• My grandparents will soon be celebrating their 60th anniversary. I'm so happy for them. <3

*Chris Colfer is one of my heroes. He is a genius.

**Matthew Lewis is also one of my heroes. Always and forever. We sent him a K-State hat once because he talked about his embarrassing Order of the Phoenix haircut on an early episode of PotterCast, and there was a call for hats (probably as a joke, but we still wanted to help him out).

Inspiration Can Come In the Simplest of Forms

Last year in Drawing 3 and Advanced Drawing, the drawing majors decided to dub ourselves "The Drawing Rangers" because we started out as five (and then grew to eight and then six, if I'm counting correctly) and we had grown really close from having spent so much time together in studio. Naturally, we all tended to hold each other up when things got rough or when any one of us faced some bit of an artist block (or, as was often the case, more of a crisis). It was through these moments when we grew even closer and were able to pull through the darkness and find our way back.

Anyway, Brianna, who is so sweet and super awesome, tagged myself, Whitney, Caitlin, and Nicole in a post of FB earlier today. The link was to this gorgeous strip, which provides a kind of pick-me-up for the artistic soul (be sure to click to enlarge). When I read it, I teared up, because sometimes when the frustrations get too much, and the discouragement in self and abilities skyrockets, it is so important to be reminded of what got me into art in the first place. The possibilities are endless, and each beautiful in their own way. (Plus, it's what the Drawing Rangers do.)

Thank you, Brianna, for reminding me of that. It's exactly what I needed to hear. <3

On Accepting Being a Hufflepuff: My "Dear Mr. Potter" Letter

I've spent weeks trying to figure out exactly how and what I wanted to say with this post, because its subject is really important to me. It wasn't until Friday when I was home visiting my parents, and was flipping through the newly-arrived copy of Dear Mr. Potter that everything just seemed to click and I knew how I was going to present the subject matter that had been bouncing around my brain for weeks.

Dear Mr. Potter is a fan compilation of letters, stories, and photographs submitted by Harry Potter fans from around the world. The letters are addressed to Harry, Hermione, Ron, other characters, and also to J.K. Rowling herself, and they vary in presentation. Flipping through the book was an emotional experience; seeing others' takes on the experiences provided by the series were poignant beyond explanation. The last two pages of the book are left almost completely blank; on the left had page, there is a header declaring "Dear Mr. Potter", followed by "Love, ___________" down at the bottom. On the right, there is a blank rectangle of white just big enough for a picture.

I looked at my dad when I discovered what it was. "They've left you a page for you to put your own letter there," I said, and ran out of the room to cry. In the words of the Beatles, it's all too much.

And so, without further ado, here is my own "Dear Mr. Potter" letter. (I apologize if it seems a little jumbled; this is something that I'm having a hard time putting into words.)

Dear Mr. Potter and J.K. Rowling,

You know I have never had much confidence in myself. A girl I was friends with in third and fourth grade told me once, "Why would you want to be in the audience when you can be center stage?". It was clear from her words that who I was would never cut it, and so from that point on I tried to live up to her--and then everyone else's--expectations.

I wanted the kinds of clothes the popular kids wore. I listened to what the other girls in Girl Scouts listened to, because they told me that the Beatles and Blur were not the cool thing to listen to--and so I didn't bring my love for them up around the others. I wanted to wear makeup and have a boyfriend just like my friends did in junior high, even though my parents wouldn't let me date until I was 16. I cussed because that's what everyone else was doing when the teachers weren't in earshot. I wanted to see Titanic and Austen Powers just like everyone else had so that maybe, just maybe, they'd like me more. I didn't like showing my art or writing to anyone, because it seemed that every time I did, I was criticized for it.

In high school, I began to grow bitter of this habit I'd gotten myself into. I was too fat to fit into the kinds of jeans the other girls wore, and I could not understand why I couldn't fit in with the popular crowd, and by that time I'd given up. I felt like I could never be accepted by anyone because I could never be what they wanted me to be. And so I shrunk back into the shadows, alone, reading and writing and listening to music I wanted to and dreaming of the kind of adolescence I wanted to have.

I first read the Harry Potter books as a sixth grader in 1999-2000. They were--and still are--my pick-me-up, my inspiration, my escape. When life grew more and more complicated, I clung closer to the stories, losing myself in Hogwarts and the adventures the trio had. When Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix came out in 2003 I was fifteen, and never had I ever connected so permanently to a book. There was Tonks, who seemed so cool to me and Luna, a character whom I could never explain fully how much she means to me, as well as so many other things that I resonated with. As I was reading the book, I finally began to realize fully how important they were to me as a person--this was why I kept coming back to them. I felt like I could be me when I was in Harry's world--because the real world didn't seem to like the real me, and at that point, I wasn't sure who the real me was.

All throughout high school, I tried to convince myself I was a Gryffindor--or, at least, a Ravenclaw. I didn't want to be a Slytherin because they were "shady types" (what I thought at the time, anyway), and for a long time I thought Hufflepuff would be a waste of time--weren't they "duffers" (PS, 61)? The house that everyone wanted to be in was Gryffindor, and I wanted so badly to have courage enough to be a part of it. I took the quizzes online, and I would always end up with Hufflepuff, much to my dismay. Surely that was incorrect.

When I got to college, however, my perspective began to change. I didn't feel the pressure anymore to live up to everyone's expectations; and I found people who seemed to like me for who I was, and slowly but surely I began piecing together who I was. When Deathly Hallows was released in 2007, I had begun to realize fully what each house stood for. Just because someone was in Slytherin didn't mean they were bad--Slughorn is one example, my roommate Emma is another. I didn't feel I exuded the kind of cleverness and smarts that Ravenclaw required--though I had for a long time wanted to be in the same house as Luna. I wanted to be like her in any way I could. I began to accept that Gryffindor did not fully describe me, either; my self-confidence had since elementary school been non-existent, and so for a long time, I had no courage I felt was worthy enough. (I did, however, feel that the more I started to embrace who I was as a person, the braver I felt--though I yet have a long way to go.) Plus, I realize now what Dumbledore points out very early in the series, something I read first as a sixth grader but didn't grasp until much later: "There are all kinds of courage" (PS 221).

It wasn't until about three years ago I began accepting that I was a Hufflepuff. It just made sense. And best of all, I was okay with it, because it felt like home to me. The Sorting Hat describes them as those who "are just and loyal/Those patient Hufflepuffs are true/And unafraid of toil" (PS 88). It wasn't that I settled for it--I had been one all along. I felt, finally, that it was part of the real me.

As I was sitting in the theatre early Friday morning, watching the gorgeous, amazing, wonderful scene with Harry and Dumbledore in King's Cross, soaking in every emotion, I thought a lot about the impact this series has had on my life. Harry Potter came into my life at just the right time. It was a constant in the intensity and turbulence I felt getting through junior high and high school; a reminder that it was okay to be who I was, it was okay to dream and imagine, because that is part of what makes us who we are. Perhaps if I'd never had read the series, I'd still be trying to please others, trying to be that person center stage, and growing ever more discouraged that I didn't seem to be doing enough. I know I'm not fully over my insecurities, but I know I'm slowly getting there. I may not be a Gryffindor, but with Harry's journey, I realized that I had the courage to accept myself: I am a writer, I am an artist, I am a friend. I possess many facets that make up who I am. I am Heather, and a Hufflepuff. For this last release, I wore my brand new Hufflepuff tie, and went simply as me.

So thank you, Mr. Potter and Jo. I cannot tell you enough how much it means to me what you've given me, how much you've inspired me. You've taught and given me many things, but this, perhaps, is the most important. Thank you for being part of my childhood and adolescence, but most of all, thank you for helping me to realize how cool being me is.

With much love,
Heather

Let the Records Show

...that tonight, hours away from the very last Potter release, I still have no clue what to wear to the midnight showing.

Seriously. This is why I'm in this mindstate. What with:

1. The recent confirmation that Kurt's last season on Glee is Season 3 (NOOOOOOOOOO!!) 
2. My work schedule for next week being utterly crazy-cakes (i.e. ANNOYING)
3. Work itself (I want back at the Derb ASAP)
4. I haven't spent more than four days at home since Christmas.
5. Packing and moving over the next three weeks or so, complete with all its confusion, annoyances, and stress-inducing situations, and
6. Oh yeah, and the fact that after the credits start rolling tonight, my childhood, my adolescence, will have come to a close. I will wake up tomorrow morning and things will feel different. They will BE different. 

Too much emotion right now. With the distress and stress and excitement and every other emotion coursing through my veins right now, I am surprised I haven't imploded yet.

But even with all this, I am so very excited. I will cheer, I will cry when appropriate. Bring it on, Seth Childs. Now to figure out what to wear....

Anecdote #1

Long ago, my parents owned two station wagons, one a pale gold, one a grayish-silver. They replaced the gold one with a red Ford Topaz when I was two or three years old--rumor has it that I picked out the Topaz and proceeded to call it "Strawberry Fields Forever"--but they kept the gray station wagon for a little longer before replacing it as well.

The back of the station wagon had an extra set of seats that folded out; when the door that hid them was closed, it was a flat space for loading whatever needed to be transported. 

I remember asking my parents if Heidi and I could ride back there, and most of the time, they let us. The seats faced out the back window so as we were driving around, Heidi and I were able to see everything behind us. 

My memories of riding in that car are very few as we were really young when my parents finally replaced it with a newer model. I do remember pretending that we were "driving" from the back, being silly. I remember other little things like eating Hershey's chocolate bars with Heidi, eating Twizzlers with Stephanie, my best friend in second grade. 

I had forgotten about the car until the other day when I was at work. In the grand scheme of things, it may not be that important, but I knew I needed to write it down, somewhere, so I would not forget it. 

More Potter Emotions

So this is how the last week has been (up to this point, anyway).

I cannot easily put it into words. Since my class finished (and I'd had about 24 hours to process the reality of where I was on the Grand Timeline of Life), I've been overwhelmed with emotion. It was this beautiful, moving moment at the London premiere last Thursday that it really started to sink in. I know the full emotions were experienced when Deathly Hallows was released in 2007--but at that time, there were still three movies that had yet to come out. Now, there's a loss of sorts; no real new and unseen thing left for us to anticipate. (Well, except Pottermore, but I'll get to that in a second.)

Part of my remembered childhood and the entirety of my adolescence was tied in some way to this series. I encountered Harry as a sixth grader, preparing to enter jr. high. The first movie came out when I was in eighth grade, trying to survive girls' basketball (the only time I ever went out for a sport). The fourth film came out when I was a senior in high school, and my first year of college was capped off with not only the fifth film, but the unforgettable release of Deathly Hallows. The sixth film came out a month after I'd been in England, having walked across the very bridge that is destroyed at the beginning of the film.

And now here I am, one year from completing my undergraduate degrees, and we are days away from seeing Deathly Hallows Part 2, the very last ever Harry Potter film. Somehow it feels appropriate--or I happened to time my exit from KSU just right--that it was released now. One could argue that it's even a kind of capstone to my adolescence, and adulthood is the next step. I've said before that I've accepted the knowledge that "all good things come to an end"--which I still believe, to be clear--but the other half of me is distraught. This is so much a part of me, who I have become. I have invested so much time in the expectations and excitement...now that Part 2 is (nearly) here, it's hard to imagine the mind state's absence.

I'm not saying that it's going to be one of those, "My life is over!" scenarios, because you and I well know that it is far from it. I am merely remembering how important it was (and still is) to me. What if I hadn't decided to put my name on the waiting list for Sorcerer's Stone all those years ago?

I constantly wondered in high school if people really understood what it meant to me, to be a part of this whole thing. The books, and then the movies, gave me something to latch onto. They helped me fight my internal battles. They gave me somewhere to escape to, to imagine somewhere that was a helluvah lot better sounding than school. When I told people how much I cried reading the last hundred pages of DH, some of them seriously looked at me and asked, "You know it's just a book, right?"

But it's not. It's the reason I'm majoring in creative writing. It was the reason I finally realized how much fun reading was. It was an example for how awesome (and beautiful) filmmaking can be. It gave me the damn pick-me-up I needed to get through my hellish adolescence. It encouraged me to think beyond the confines of the fields and Big Blue that surrounded my hometown. It gave me the experience of walking up to a random person in King's Cross Station to ask if they knew where Platform 9 3/4 was, only to receive a look of complete bafflement in return. It gave me memories that I will treasure forever.

And Pottermore is certainly something to look forward to; I still have few words to describe how exciting it is. It's going to be incredible. It's almost too much for me to process at the moment.

Remembering all those years of keeping up with movie news, going to releases...those were some high points for me. The film is going to be amazing. I can feel that bubble of happiness starting to swell the closer we get to Thursday night. But thinking about the actors and filmmakers--especially Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, and Rupert Grint--and how they have built up bonds after spending so much time making these films, films that we flocked to and quoted and loved and hated...so much emotion at the thought.

Ten years is a long time, but not in the grand scheme of things. This film is what they've been building to for so long. And I feel so blessed, filled with so much gratitude the actors, filmmakers, and most importantly J.K. Rowling, that I able to take part in it, even as a fan. You know, one tiny part of the Harry Potter Generation.

Hodgepodge #2

My procrastination got incredibly ridiculous over the last week. I didn't work the weekend and other than my friend Whitney's wedding on Saturday, there was no real reason for me to be working late into the night last night to finish the take-home essay exam. But I was. I was so ashamed of myself for letting it get so bad. The essays themselves were not difficult and didn't take long to write. But I just couldn't hold concentration long enough start writing anything until yesterday after work. I wasted more time doing other things than actually writing, all because I was just tired of doing things. (Plus, thinking about next week--especially with this video making the end more real in my mind--has me caught between so many mixed emotions and it was hard to focus.)

Also? I spend much of the day wishing this truly had the ability to solve my problems.

Regardless, my history class ended really well. I don't remember getting so attached to a non-major class; when I thanked the professor on Friday when we were dismissed, I was so overcome with a multitude of emotions that I simultaneously stumbled over my words, rambled, and tried not to cry. On the second to last day of class, we watched an awesome movie called Easy Rider, one I can't really talk to you about unless you've seen it. It is wonderful, though. So very wonderful.

Alisha and I spent the Fourth at Cico Park to watch the fireworks and stuff our faces with food. It was only the third or fourth time I'd ever shot off any fireworks aside from sparklers, so Alisha found it highly amusing to poke fun at my apprehension. I sprinted from everything I set off, afraid of being in the way of any unexpected explosions. Regardless, it was a nice evening. We listened to some of the Glee soundtrack as we watched the show. I don't know what it is about July 4th, but I never seem to really get excited until the moment the sky lights up. As we stood there in a calm silence with the booms and bits of music surrounding us, I thought back on past Independence Days with my family spent either at home, in Nebraska with my cousins, or once even in Michigan. How much my dad hates firecrackers; how Mom would pull out the bug candle for us to light our sparklers and how we'd draw words through the air. The time I remember spending the Fourth in Michigan, and because of the rain and humidity, the show we went to see at Lake Superior took place on the 5th instead of the 4th. Sitting on the front porch at my parents' house, watching what we could see of the Lakeview show through the branches of the trees.

So much emotion in those forty minutes. I miss my family.

Before I Dive Back Into Essay-Writing Classwork....

...one more thing about Klaine. Behold, the final skit from Glee Live 2011. (Also, this better quality video of the same skit.)

After crowns and fuzzy hats and marriage proposals and bridges and leprechauns and commemorative plates and all of the other bits of cleverness and wit that have come about from every single version of it, this.

Some people probably wouldn't totally understand what Glee itself is and what it represents, and definitely not how attached fans get to Kurt and Blaine's relationship (not that that's a bad thing; to each his/her own). And for those who love the show (and the relationship as well), it varies due to how they take it. For me, the show means a lot of different things (many of which I will talk about at length another time), and some of them are hard for me to explain because they're so complex.

The thing with Kurt and Blaine for me, however, is not just because Kurt is my favorite character--though that was part of what it started from. There was something there from the moment that the two meet that connected them to one another. I am strictly what the internet knows as a "Kurt/Happiness" shipper, so I was most concerned with Kurt finding someone that would provide him the happiness he deserves. So I was glad that Kurt had found a mentor, confidant, and friend in Blaine; and if it turned out that they would ultimately remain friends, I was okay with that. But as time when on, however, the relationship started growing and building up from this strong camaraderie they share. And unlike some other couples on the show*, the development (including the character development for both of them!) took its time, so that by the time we got to "Original Song", their admiration--and that kiss--was whole-heartedly deserved. (There are some other really important things that tie/lead into this moment, but that's for another post.)

And then there's the fact that Kurt and Blaine mean so much to so many people, and the characters themselves are brilliantly written (i.e. while they have their good moments, they are also flawed, which is fabulous and makes them seem so much better for one another) and are portrayed positively. Seeing that moment when it finally clicks in Blaine's head, and then later, when he is honest with Kurt about his feelings? Powerful, so beyond so, even. I see what they have as on par with the kind of relationship that Finn and Rachel have--though there are some significant differences, they're relationship feels like it will last a helluvah lot longer than a couple of episodes.

I guess one of the things I love so very much about this skit is that reflects that dynamic that they have on the show--as the other versions of the skit have. There's the genius of Chris Colfer**, once again, with that heartfelt reading of the beautiful, hysterical, clever poem (and I second the motion about those who call Kurt a stereotype, because while there may be a few elements that seem like a stereotype, the character most certainly is not). And then there's Darren Criss' response, which is wonderful as always. And Kurt's reaction, where he seems to float a little, then collapses in bliss, is both hilarious and wonderful. I'd imagine that that's what love does to a person, you know? It catches you off guard, then carries you off.

And though my main concern is still that Kurt is happy--I want him to be happy with whoever he ends up with, whether it would be Blaine or not--and that if he and Blaine are not meant by the power of the writers to remain together, I think I might be a little bummed if they break up. Because, you know, there'd have to be a good reason for it and they'd have to prove to me that anyone else is worthy of Kurt. He and Blaine just seem to fit each other.

And now I'm off to finish up this class. I am easily distracted...

*coughQuinn&Samcough

**Seriously though. Chris Colfer is awesome. He's clever, he's intelligent, he's witty, he's a brilliant actor, and so talented. He is the king of cool points as far as I'm concerned.