Keep Faith

As I lay in bed the other night, not quite ready to fall asleep, I went through the meager photo gallery on my phone. I deleted a few pictures and reset my wallpaper with a picture of a picture of my aunt's cat dressed as James Bond I'd taken a couple weeks ago when we were visiting my grandmother over Christmas. The picture that had previously graced my phone background since the beginning of December was one featuring a quote my friend Erica had forwarded to me in light of a low point at the end of the semester.

Because of the quote wallpaper, I had had to delete the text banner I'd had on my phone. So, naturally, when the cat James Bond picture was put up, I went back into my settings to reset the banner. What I've always wanted to have--but never have had the space for because the banner is limited to a certain number of characters--is "Keep each other safe. Keep faith. Goodnight," the closing to Potterwatch in the Harry Potter books (which was thus adapted by the amazing PotterCast as their closing). Shortening it to just "Keep safe. Keep faith" was still too long. I tried fitting the simplified phrase in again in the hope that it would somehow fit, but to no avail. So, as I'd had to do before, I typed in "Keep faith" and hit save.

The last year and a half has provided its share of both high points and low points. For the most part, I feel in close to the same place as I did in my last post; things seem much more complicated while I feel simultaneously better equipped to understand what makes up my anxiety and depression. In August I started grad school, which has improved things to some extent. My experiences thus far have provided an enormous but not unexpected amount of challenges, but overall I feel happy. Fall semester was rough, but I feel stronger for it.

And yet new anxieties have set in alongside those that were there last year. While I find myself more hopeful, I'm navigating new and different concerns, and it has continued to take its toll in the form of anti-peptalks and nights I cry myself to sleep. I haven't been writing as I've wanted to, as evidenced by the fact that my novel is still comprised of character notes and freewriting in addition to the lack of posts on this blog over the last year. It's been hard to overcome the negative head spaces. That's not to say that I haven't been writing, because I've done some solid writing, especially since school started. I'm thankful for it. But despite this, I know I have a long way to go, both with writing and everything else in life, because the funk has seemed to slip into everything else, too.

Last week was New Years. I spent it with the old roomies. It was a fantastic holiday following a much better Christmas than last year, and it was good to just be and catch up with my friends, most of whom I hadn't seen in months. I talked to them about what had been going on, about school, the quarter-life crisis, my fears, worries, everything. One of the girls pointed out, "You have to stop looking at it negatively; it's not that you have a long way to go. It's in how far you've come already."

Truth be told, I haven't had much faith in myself or in my own abilities lately. I didn't really realize it until New Years, when I was spending quality time with my friends and making up resolutions for 2014. The combination of anxiety and depression has manifested itself into my insecurities and made things so much harder, and I've let all the negative thoughts carry me off into the void. What I've realized in the last week, though, is that it's that faith that needs to be restored. Things don't have to be perfect. Things will work out. Little by little, I am gaining confidence, and I can't let the insecurities of today that have built up with those of years past break down the strength I have.

I chose the "Keep Faith" banner because I liked the simplicity of it. It can mean many things beyond the context of the Potterwatch message. It is a daily reminder that I need faith in every way, keeping it close. It is the way I will navigate the dark days, and the way that I need to allow myself the benefit of the doubt. It is how I will love myself fully and unconditionally. It is protection. It is hope.

Brittany's Grand Comeback: Yay/Nay for Glee 4x02, "Britney 2.0"

Brittany is trying to get her groove back, seemingly confident in herself as she begins senior year for the second time. But something is off: the summer vacation wasn't the best, her voiceover is outside of her head, she's been yelling at shrubs, everyone is baffled by her behavior, and she's stripped of her high pony. She's trying to adjust to the new groove; she's beginning to realize how crucial her grades are, Santana is off at college, and Brittany doesn't know how to deal with it all.

Rachel, of course, is continuing to find her new self, continuing from last week. Cassandra's current assertion is that Rachel isn't sexy enough to dance a tango. So, Rachel attempts to be the kind of sexy she thinks she needs to be. This hasn't really worked for her before; Kurt's attempts to sabotage the makeover he gives her in season 1--a la Sexy Sandy from Grease--was the first, and it failed. In the first Britney episode, Rachel finds confidence in her own Britney fantasy, but goes about it the wrong way with the wrong attitude and a short skirt and pigtail braids that didn't really suit her. And though her determination to prove her sex appeal once again is encouraged by Kurt--under very different circumstances and without ulterior motives--she dives into it, determined to prove herself worthy.

And though Finn isn't around this time to assure her of her unique kind of sexiness, Brody assures her that she is sexy just as she is. She shrugs it off and goes ahead with it, and, of course, it backfires a little. Brody warned her. He knows what's going on.

This time around, the Britney tribute is less about the music and more about the characters. It works, this fabulous focus on the characters and their real issues. It's clear when watching the episode, but it's nice to hear that the writers planned for it to be that way. (The article in the link gave me really high hopes for the rest of the season, and it made me happy to know that they are trying to bring it back to what it was.) (Two other fabulous articles/analyses of interest concerning this episode include this one from Letters From Titan concerning the theme of scrutiny, and this intruiging look on the characters and conflict this episode from Deconstructing Glee.)

The good vibe from the season premiere is still there this week, and if it continues to be there past episode seven, I'll be happy--season three started off strong, and then started to get messy about that point.

Yay: Brittany's arch this episode is lovely. Strong, strong character development this week for her, however small it was. That last shot of her, devastated, made my heart hurt. (Set up for conflict with her and Santana, perhaps?)

Nay: Here's how the lead-in to Womanizer should have gone (or at least, something like it), to avoid the obvious and slightly awkward set up:

School hallway. Marley enters, notices Jake talking to Tina, and stares a little too long. Unique enters from opposite, sees Marley staring at Jake.

UNIQUE: I know that look. And girl, no.

MARLEY, clearly startled:  What are you talking about? 

Marley tries to come off as nonchalant, but Unique knows better.

UNIQUE: I know you have a thing for Jake, but he's not worth it.

And so on. She can mention the thing about new girls sticking together, then talks about how Jake's been going from girl to girl, only been there a short time, yadda, yadda, yadda, and then they start the song. The set up in the episode was too obvious, and wasn't really working for me. I don't really believe that Marley would have admitted her crush on Jake so easily. If you're a 15/16 year old girl in high school, one of the last things you'd freely admit to was your number one crush. At least, I didn't.*

Yay: While I'm still hesitant to like him too much, Brody was really cool this week. I thought his joke about doing 200,000 crunches was cute.

Nay: I want Puck back for longer than just a minute or two. I know he was only supposed to be there briefly, but I wanted him to stick around and be awesome. I miss the graduated ND members a lot, and I'm eager to see them come back as the season progresses.

Yay: I really like how Sam figured out Brittany's plan. (The map he drew for her was awesome.) There was something really special about that scene with the two of them in the auditorium. Also, I wonder if Sam actually uses a compass to get around...

Yay: I LOVED Kurt and Rachel's new place, and I can't wait to see what they do with it. I loved that they were riding bicycles around inside. Simply perfect. I adored their conversation** over dinner, and it felt really natural.

Yay: I feel like Cassandra is going to get more and more interesting every episode. One of my favorite scenes in the episode is where Rachel goes to apologize to her and they talk about second chances in the real world. (Can we talk about how INCREDIBLE Kate Hudson is?)

Interesting: Joe was singing the song about threesomes with Sam and Tina. (Also, "3" was my favorite song this week. All three of them sounded incredible, and it reminded me how much I love Samuel Larson's voice. He's awesome.)

Yay: The Schuest-ometer was fairly low this week. This is good. Any time I don't have to be angry with Mr. Schue is the best time. Also, I'm really surprised that he was okay with--and was the one who suggested--doing Britney Spears, especially because he was so against it the first time around....

Yay: I'm really proud of Rachel for not kissing Brody. This shows growth. (Even if they are meant to date at some point, it's much too soon.)

Yay: SO MUCH EMOTION when Brittany almost shaved her head and then proceeded to beat up Jacob Ben Israel.

On The Fence: I'm not sure how I feel about Jake yet. I'm interested to see more with him in coming episodes. I don't hate him--there just isn't enough there yet for me to quite get him. I feel that so far, we've just been told about who he is rather than shown.

Yay: BUT... I loved how Jake stood up for Marley's mom. Cool points.

Yay: Kurt's right. Cake is awesome. Also, did anyone else notice how at home both he and Rachel are in New York? Hummelberry was meant to be there. *warm fuzzies*

Yay: Kiki and that ridiculously huge Lima Bean cup. SO FUNNY OMG.

Yay(ish): I really like that Rachel is taking charge of navigating life in New York without going crazy like she usually does. And I loved how her flub-up with insulting Cassandra provided some great conflict and a little character development for her this episode. I just hope that she doesn't lose it. You know?

Yowza: "Gimme More" was a deliciously disastrous trainwreck. Lip-syncing was a terrible idea.

Yay: "Everytime" was the best way to end the episode. (I really, really love Marley and I want her to be happy.) That last shot of Rachel painting over Finn's name, followed by the shot of the flowers....


Until next time.



*There was one instance in elementary school when some of the girls in my class found out about the boy I liked (i.e. I told them, which was a stupid move on my part), and then they told him, and then things got embarassing.......Needless to say, I only told two or three of my closest friends about crushes after that.

**Though I still think that Kurt should focus on fashion and forget about NYADA. I mean, I think he'd be great at both, but he has such a creative side.....

Baby Pink Platforms

A few days ago, my mother asked me--or rather, reminded me--to go through dresses and artwork for a garage sale our church back home is doing later this fall. It was something she'd mentioned to me before, but I hadn't done so the last time I was home and the deadline for having things ready was coming up fast. Another very brief trip home was in order.

I started going through artwork in the basement after I arrived earlier this afternoon, and that was...interesting. Some of it was stuff I'd forgotten I'd done, and the majority of the work was pretty weak from what I remembered. I joked to Mom that one of the pieces I'd chosen was from my "Blue Period," except that the drawing was horrible, and it happened to have been done during a really bad time in high school. At least Picasso's Blue Period produced beautiful, thoughtful work; I went through a period where I didn't care about what I was doing, and it is clear by looking at each and every piece.

The dress search was its own trip. I found one dress that I couldn't bear to part with; it is a deep mulberry color, one my mother made for me for my senior Winter Formal, that has a beautiful cut-out at the base of the skirt and lace stretching across the neckline. I told her I'd take it later, once I have room in my closet to keep it. I found the dress I wore to my high school graduation; it was never very comfortable and it poofed out strangely in front. The ball gown I'd worn to my senior prom, I finally decided, would be donated to the garage sale along with the graduation dress, a skirt I wore once or twice, and a couple of dance costumes.

When I was poking around my bedroom, I found a ton of things that brought back memory after memory. But then I found the platforms.

I'd gotten them at Wal-Mart when I was in junior high. They're baby pink--my favorite color at the time--and I wore them maybe once or twice. In fact, I don't even remember really wearing them--just admiring them, considering whether to wear them or not. Like, perhaps people would think I was trendy if I wore them.

The strangest thing about it all was the fact I'd found them the same weekend I repurchased the second Britney Spears' album, one that I have a love/hate relationship with. I listened to it again in its entirety yesterday, and it brought back memories of a group of friends I spent a lot of my time with in junior high, making up dances to each of the songs and listening to it for hours on end. Two of these friendships were especially toxic; one girl continuously brought me down, reminding me at every chance she could how much better she was at everything, and the other was close to the same, but she lived in my neighborhood and so we saw each other a lot until she decided to ignore me. And then, I entered high school and decided to spend more time in my room reading than socializing.  

One of the girls wore shoes much like this on a regular basis. It was her style, and I wanted to wear the same kind of stuff she did. I bought them hoping that she would approve, and that others at school would consider me trendy enough to spend time with. But I never really wore them.

This kind of nostalgia is something I'm not sure how to handle. At times it's great, because I can tap into the emotions easily when writing. I remember the good things about being that age, about wanting to wear makeup and nailpolish and getting prettied up, feeling as beautiful as Britney or Beyonce or the girls from B*Witched. I've talked a little bit about this before. I was reminded of it again earlier this week when I put in Hocus Pocus and my roommate and I were reminiscing about how different it was watching it as much later. There was something really exciting about growing up at the turn of the century. Listening to that music, watching those movies I loved as a kid--they all bring back the good things. Before the internet was something I depended on, when Disney Channel showed good movies and began airing shows that would stick with me for years to come. Every once and awhile, that mental journey is wonderful. I remember where I was, and how far I've come. 

Other times, however, it's somewhat depressing. At thirteen, I wasn't able to see how those friendships would break down my self-esteem, nor how I would think back on that experience often, understanding what it meant in my life. It puts me in a weird headspace, much like that when I read an old journal. 

But it keeps me thinking, wondering, discovering and rediscovering. I sang along to the album as I've listened to it this weekend, remember the things I love about it, as well as the things I don't. I even tried the baby pink platforms on, just to see how well they fit. And they did. I felt like a Spice Girl as soon as I buckled them. Baby Spice. She's the one who wore the platform shoes most often. 

I walked into the kitchen to show Mom. "Well, what do you think? How do I look?" I asked, striking a pose. 

Mom turned, glancing down at my feet. "Oh, yeah. Clunky."

I laughed, glancing down as well. My mulberry nail polish clashed with the pink in a strange way. "You're right. I gotta take these off."

Resolutions Revisited

So, as soon as I posted my resolutions the other day, I realize that I forgot a couple that I had wanted to add. Anyway, the addendum:

15. I want to cook more, and get more creative with it. Mostly my dinners consist of Kraft dinner or a serving of pasta topped with Alfredo sauce and mozzarella cheese. I need to allow more room for creativity and healthy eating.

16. I have a lot of books on my bookshelf that I haven't yet read. I need to have read--or at least attempt to read--every book I own by the end of the year. I need to allow myself the time to read as well, because I'm really bad about that.

17. Write more ideas down, regardless of whether they're drawing- or writing-related. I used to be really good with this, but somehow my little notebook wasn't always with me last year...and the few ideas that I was really excited about disappeared into the void.

I know I probably have forgotten a couple more. If and when they come back to me, I'll write them down. Anyhoo.

Also, I will post about Mockingjay in the next couple of days. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to post it; I needed time for it to sink in before I could really write about it. I'm thinking the thoughtbox will be a little different than the ones I've done before because I just have so many feelings about the book... But it will be up soon. I promise.

Resolutions for 2012

When I sit down to write out my resolutions, I tend to look over the previous year's to construct the new list, adding things here and there. Thus.

1. Control the amount of money I spend on music. Last year I resolved to not buy any more music until I had every Beatles album, and I failed miserably. I think it might be a good idea to stick to that same resolution again. No other music until I have completed my Beatles discography. 
2. By the end of 2012, I have to have gone through everything I own--both at home and in the Tiny Blue Room--and gotten rid of all that I don't need any more. Clothes should be taken to Goodwill or Habitat for Humanity, books should be taken to The Dusty Bookshelf, and music and movies should be taken to somewhere that will take them and sell them again. I've been too lax in the control of my hoarding, and I need to buckle down. A massive "spring cleaning" is needed. 
3. Better scheduling and following of deadlines. This is one of the things I have the most trouble with. 
4. Journal/freewrite/write everyday, even if it's only 15 minutes. 
5. Finish writing the novel I started for Nanowrimo 2011. 
6. Complete Nanowrimo 2012 in November.
7. Budget better so that I can start saving a little money. 
8. Try to cut down on the amount of pointless internet surfing that I do. 
9. Get applications for grad school sent out. Take the time to go through picking schools to apply to. 
10. Organize my music, books, and artwork.
11. Make more work, and try to work through any artistic block that may arise. 
12. Try not to get so angry with my roommates...because that was another huge problem for me last year.
13. Professionalize my wardrobe so that I'm ready for the upcoming changes that will accompany my upcoming graduation. 
14. As my sister pointed out to me, I need to allow myself more time to relax and de-stress. 

Gratitude

This may be a little cliche to do, but I think there's something really special (and important) in celebrating the things that make us happy, healthy, and safe. It is Thanksgiving, after all. (Though, as my friend Melissa pointed out on Facebook this morning, we should be thankful everyday rather than saving it for one day a year.) Thus.

I'm thankful for my family. They mean so much to me, and I am truly blessed. When I am home, it is for them.

I am thankful for my sister's sense of humor. She knows exactly what to say to make things not so bad. She and I have the same kind of sense of humor. I am also thankful that she laughs at my jokes, because I know I'm not that funny.

I am thankful for God's love in many ways.

I am thankful for books and art. What kind of a person would I be without them?

I am thankful that my health has been good.

I am thankful for my open-mindedness.

I am thankful for Coca-Cola, Milky Way bars, Arby's/Hardees curly fries, and Cranberry Limeades.

I am thankful for the opportunities I've had in my life to travel. They have been few, but worthwhile all the same.

I am thankful for The Westing Game, Harriet the Spy, and the many Nancy Drew mysteries I read in elementary school, because they helped me to appreciate a good mystery.

I am thankful for the ability to drive around the Little Apple without being too nervous. I haven't quite overcome my fear of driving completely, but I'm getting there.

I am thankful for Oldies and 60s British Invasion rock 'n' roll. But mostly I'm thankful for my dad's excellent taste in music. I couldn't have asked for a better kind of music to grow up with.

Though it has been hard, and not to mention emotionally taxing, I am thankful that the drought of any romance in my life has allowed me to seriously consider what I'd like in a relationship and understand my stance on many things.

I am thankful for my mother and her perseverance, creativity, and compassion. I learn more and more from her everyday.

I am thankful for the things I have learned from our trips to Michigan, and most especially the memories they left with me. It has been a long time since my grandparents (my dad's parents) passed away, but I think of them almost every single day.

I am thankful for the tradition and love from my mom's side of the family. My grandparents have been married 60 years, and they are the heart of my mom's large family. I feel very blessed to be a part of it.

I am thankful that I decided to pick up and read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone in sixth grade.

I am thankful for writing and the joy I get from it. The power of the story is kind of awesome. And, in a way, it kind of saved my life.

I'm thankful for college. It is one of the best things that have happened to me. I have learned so much and in so many different ways, and I have changed so much from the person I was five years ago. I feel like I'm finally me.

I'm thankful for authentic Mexican food and authentic Indian food. I am also thankful for my grandmother's spaghetti, my mom's pasty, and cheesecake.

I am thankful for Glee, Star Wars, and the Georgia Nicolson series.

I am thankful that John Keats (and all related British Romantic poets), W.B. Yeats, William Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, Jane Austen, Sarah Dessen, John Green, Maureen Johnson, and J.K. Rowling all decided to write stuff down.

I am thankful for movies. I am also thankful for movie theaters (though not the raising ticket prices). I am especially thankful for Steven Spielberg and Focus Features.

I am thankful for 80s music and 80s movies.

I am thankful for music and concerts. Especially the trip I took with Brandi and Cassie last year to Kansas City, where we went to Warped Tour and then Lady Gaga's Monster Ball within the course of 48 hours. It was incredible.

I am thankful for my friends. My friendships have, and always will be, extremely important to me. I love my friends dearly. I'm very blessed.

There will always be things to be thankful for, and this list certainly doesn't cover everything. Happy Thanksgiving.

Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds

My earliest memory of my sister, Heidi, involves a little orange jumpsuit with a matching bib decorated with a smiling, glowing pumpkin. She was just days old, and Mom had dressed her up as a pumpkin baby. This first memory is of Mom putting her into the car seat after church; perhaps Halloween was on a Sunday that year? I was too young. I cannot remember much beyond that; I was two and a half when she was born, and so I feel very lucky to remember that kind of a detail alone.

Heidi is a Halloween baby. She wasn't born on Halloween, though: just a few days before. Last weekend, when she and I were watching Hocus Pocus, one of her favorite movies, we talked about how this made sense with her obsession with horror movies. She's been trying to get me to watch every scary movie under the sun in the last few months especially.

But I digress.

Today is Heidi's 21st birthday. I've been very emotional the last few days thinking about it. It's not a bad thing; I've just been thinking a lot about everything that we've been through together. She's my best friend. We didn't get along too well as kids--well, we did, but we fought a lot, as siblings are prone to do--but then something clicked and we slowly became best friends. She is the most wonderful, kindhearted people I know, and I'm so proud to call her my sister.

One of Heidi's favorite songs when she was little was "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds." There is a line within the song that goes: "Suddenly someone is there at the turnstile/The girl with kaleidoscope eyes." She latched onto this idea of a 'turnstile' despite her misunderstanding of what it actually was: she named the final turn before the highway that leads directly into our hometown on our way back from visiting family in Nebraska the 'turnstile'. I remember her getting it confused, however. She called it "the turndial."


She and Dad would mention on it almost every time. "It's the turndial! It's the turndial!" she would cry, if Dad hadn't brought it up first. 


I think she is Lucy. It may be odd to say so, it may be cliche, but I don't care, because I feel she really is, in so many ways. It was like the song is written for her, because it captures her essence so purely. Her creativity, her capacity to love, her steadfastness, and every beautiful fiber of her being. Looking on it now, I believe that whole-heartedly. The girl with kaleidoscope eyes, indeed. 


And so, Heidi, you have reached another turndial. Happy, happy 21st birthday, Hootie! I love you. <3

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, "Don't Come Around Here No More"

Ever since we got cable, I have been glued to Fuse and Vh1 Classic (and any That '70s Show episode/marathon that happens to be playing at the time) any chance I've gotten. This morning during their '80s video block, this video came on.

I love watching music videos in general, but I adore older music videos, and the fact that Vh1 Classic takes the time to

1. actually play music videos and
2. features a wide variety of older clips

...is kind of awesome. But that's not the only thing that struck me about the video block, especially after seeing this video.

Aside from my obsession with '80s music videos, I love the take on Alice's Adventures in Wonderland--one of my favorite books of all time. I am fascinated by its nonsense. And everything I've heard from Tom Petty has been amazing. But that first shot of Tom Petty at the end of the long table sparked some kind of recognition in my mind. I felt like I'd seen it before, years ago. I didn't necessarily remember the rest of it--except the checkerboard room--but it must have been very early on when I saw it. I couldn't place where I saw it, how old I was, what was going on in my life. I just...felt like this morning wasn't the first time I'd seen it.

There are things we won't remember--regardless of whether the memories will stay buried or become uncovered by some kind of trigger. A small part of me is worried about never being able to recover those things; I wonder if it's even possible. The big things, the little things, everything in between from when I started comprehending everything around me to the things I should remember but have lost, even from today. There is a slight fear that if I can't, I will never fully understand my place on this Earth. As if maybe if I'd paid more attention, I wouldn't feel so unsure about everything. Life and its complexities with cracks, with holes that will lead to somewhere I will never be able to access.

I know that I will never reach a complete understanding of everything life possesses, how life experiences connect and function, why things happen as they do. Not in this life, anyway. And as cliche as this may sound, until then, I'll just sit and ponder.

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....

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.

"San Francisco" by Scott McKenzie

I love this song. I remember asking my dad about it whenever it came on the radio--I'd always forget who performed it--and he'd always point out that it had a link to an actual event that took place in San Francisco. It wasn't until today in class, when we were watching a video detailing the Summer of Love in 1967 that it finally connected in my brain the meaning of what he was saying. Wow.

I've been having moments like this off and on for the last three weeks: thinking about the stories my parents have told me, constructing a mental timeline, finally connecting event to event, letting the realities of things that happened sink in and envelop my mind. Not only am I slowly gaining a better understanding of where we are as a society today, but also how I relate to my parents to my grandparents...and suddenly I feel more passionate. I honestly don't know how to explain how or why, but I feel it. There is so much going through my mind right now, I'm overwhelmed. I know now how much I care about what happened during the sixties--because it affected so much. I might touch on this more a little later, but right now I find myself lost in what had happened in my parents' generation, and really, being two days away from being done with the class, I really need to focus on all the essays I have to compose in the next week. 

In the meantime, I'm going to pop in all the 60s music I know of so I can concentrate. And this one will be played a lot. 

Why Glee Kind of Matters (Another Probable Part One)

If you have not seen this review of Glee Live in NYC, you should read it, not only because it is honest, it also vocalizes something important that some fail to understand about Glee. And oh, is it spot-on--and that last line.... (Also be sure to check out the comments...no words.)

I will return to this subject. But first: homework.

Sidenote: Also check out the video the author provides of the Kurt/Blaine skit from the late show. It is probably my favorite of all the ones I've watched on YouTube because

A) Kurt is awesome (and my favorite character, so that's a given)

B) Kurt and Blaine are wonderful together and

C) It is hilarious. (And Chris Colfer ad-libbing--from what I understand, anyway--with Darren Criss' responses are possibly the greatest thing since sliced bread.)

The Final Trailer Ever (Most Likely) for Harry Potter

*spoiler alert*

The trailer debuted online on Thursday, and I know I should have mentioned it then, but that was also the same day as Pottermore's clues were put up, so I was a little overcome with various emotions and all I could do after class that night was sit and watch the trailer for the first time. I didn't full-out cry, but I did gasp, and tears did well up....and I had to process it.

The full water-works will hit when watching the film for the first time. I'm almost certain of that. When reading the book, right at the end of "The Prince's Tale" is when everything hits me like a big yellow school bus and I can't stop crying for years, it seems. It starts to pick up when Harry tells Neville to make sure to kill Nagini, and Neville tells him, "We're all going to keep fighting, Harry. You know that?" (p558, UK edition). And it gets worse when Harry talks to his parents and Lupin and Sirius. Never have I cried harder when reading a book, never have I felt the emotions so strongly or passionately. (That's the kind of power Jo Rowling has when she is armed with pen and paper.)

Which is why, when in the trailer, Harry is suddenly talking to his parents and Sirius and Lupin, that I almost fell out of my chair.

It still has not hit that this is going to be the very last Harry Potter movie, ever. (And it probably won't fully hit me until I'm sitting in the theatre, watching the last few minutes of film before the credits.) Since I was a sixth-grader, waiting to find out what happens in Goblet of Fire (which came out the summer between my sixth and seventh-grade years), there has always been something a little more to look forward to. This final release will definitely not reach the kind of emotion of ending that reading Deathly Hallows did, but it will also be the ultimate release of something that has become a part of who I am now. With the release of the book, we still had three movies to look forward to. Now, however, there will be nothing more tied directly to this series that will be released.

I keep thinking about a song by The Byrds, which is based on a set of Bible verses from Ecclesiastes. Things have their time in this world: each and every one of us will have our time, events in our life will come and go. I understand that, and as the years have gone on, I have come to accept it and love it, however affecting the loss in question may be.

But at the same time, however, I'm remembering the excitement of the wait: where we would make predictions about what was going to happen based on mere titles of each book and the precious few tidbits and hints that we were given before each release. I remember fighting with Heidi and Prairie about who was going to get together, Ron and Hermione or Harry and Hermione*--and seeing R/Hr clutching each other at 1:40 kills me because there's so much beauty and power and love and protection there and I want to cry because I had almost the same reaction as FYA did. The rawness, the newness of it all, the joy of spending releases with fellow fans who get that feeling of excitement/fear/love/community...I'll bring that with me for the rest of my life.

The trailer itself is gorgeous, and I'd argue the best of all of them--which is only fitting, since it will probably be the very last one we'll ever get (I'm not counting the TV spots). The dragon's in it, and that made me super excited to see the Gringotts sequence, which is one of my favorite parts of the book because it's so badass. And then the suits of armor (!!), and the Room of Requirement, and all the battle stuff, and I think you also see Neville with sword somewhere in there....Part 2 is going to be amazing. And the way they begin with clips from previous movies? So much awesome packed into 3 minutes.

Honestly, though this is the last movie, and it will be sad beyond comprehension to fully accept that, there will always be more. Perhaps not in the same sense, but certainly in spirit. Rereading the series (something I've meant to do for ages), rewatching the movies, and FREAKIN' Pottermore, when it's true identity is announced to the world next week. And then, anything that J.K. Rowling publishes in the future will surely be top of my to-read list. Also, if I do get married and have children, there will hopefully be a day that my children decide to pick up the books for the first time, taking in every word as I did, eager to find out what happens next.

Most of all, though, I'll keep the books, films and experiences close to me, because they have become a small part of who I am today. These books made me realize how much I love reading for the sake of reading rather than for a few Accelerated Reader points. The many wonderful themes will stick with me, the ones of love, friendship, and many more. Jo Rowling is one of my inspirations for wanting to be a writer. The characters of Luna Lovegood and Ron Weasley--and Snape, too--will always be models to look at when thinking about character. Through these books I've met many people, discovered and fallen in love with Wizard Rock--which led me to meeting even MORE people--and being a part of something more. There is so much more that I will encounter in my life, but I will carry every single aspect of this with me; it's part of me.

*My friend Alicia posted another BRILLIANT R/Hr video on her FB, and I love this one as much as the other one. It's soooo good....where does she find these things? And whoever made it should get an award or something. Seriously.

Something's going on in Potter World....

And honestly, it's been a long time since I've felt this oh so special right-before-a-Jo-Rowling-Announcement-of-Awesome. You know, the ones right before a title or release date was announced, or even the W.O.M.B.A.T.s, behind the door on her website. The hint of mystery, the theories, the act of just trying to figure out the puzzle, all seemed to fit into this place I cannot fully describe to you with the justice it deserves.

Cue Pottermore, which evidently won't be released for another 6 days (!!!). And then there is this interesting development. Leaky, too, has gathered bits o' speculation/facts that sum up the general feeling of excitement/intrigue.

It is almost like we've used a Time Turner to go back to when we were dissecting possible meanings of character names and titles and whatever other bits of information we knew. I say "almost," because while this is a huge thing, it won't ever be able to replicate the feeling of not knowing the end of the series. The feeling of being on the verge of knowing.

It will, and is already, however, creating a very different feeling of anticipation and excitement. It's a new world for the fandom. Whatever Pottermore is, it's going to be huge. And we're ready to dive right back in.

Jo Rowling, you are amazing. I, and the rest of the world, cannot wait to see what's next. :)

Also: Go to the YouTube page and just wave your mouse over the tree and the owls. Seriously. *is awed, amazed, excited, and lasdfjalsglaskdgj*

Further Proof How Amazing Emma Watson Is

Emma Watson has been interviewed for the latest issue of Vogue. Seriously. With every article and interview of hers I read, the more respect I have for her. She's talented, intelligent, and thoughtful. And she is so compassionate when it comes to the things she believes in. I simply cannot wait to see what she accomplishes in the future.

Thanks, as always, to Leaky.

School Supplies and "You've Got Mail"

Quotage:

Don't you love New York in the fall? Makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly-sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address. (from the beginning of You've Got Mail)

For my 21st birthday, I received precisely two gifts from my sister (or, at least, I think it was just two; I could be forgetting one). One was a fantasy-themed trashy romance novel (of which I have not gotten past page two to this day, and my 21st was a considerable time ago), in response to an ongoing inside joke we have. The other was a beautiful bouquet of newly-sharpened pencils. And it was one of the best gifts I've ever been given.

I adore You've Got Mail. It was released when I was in elementary school, and Mom fell in love with it, and like dominoes, my sister and I fell for it too. I remember standing in line for lunch one day, talking to Jeremy, a classmate, who had started talking about something related to The Godfather. After he was done talking, I looked at him and said, without a trace of silliness, "What is it with men and 'The Godfather'?" That's what the movie meant to me.

As the years have gone on, I've grown to appreciate it for more and very different reasons. It's not just that I can understand and fully appreciate the 'adultishness' of it now, but what understanding of it I had transcended itself naturally as I grew. The movie was put out at a time when the internet was just beginning to take hold. There's Frank, with his three typewriters, who is yet distrustful of computers and what they have to offer. The common form of social networking was strictly chat rooms and email. The depiction of New York City is lovely; whenever I get to visit NYC, I hope it to be as magical and bustling as what I've watched over and over on screen. And I have to visit it in the fall. That is a must--at least for the first time, anyway.

The moments of beauty that one might miss, like Kathleen talking about twirling, the butterfly on the subway, the emotion and the honesty of each of the exchanged emails, the arrangement of Joe's family, Joe's time spent in a broken elevator, the shot of Kathleen preparing to go to the mattresses, the caviar garnish, twinkle-lights, the music...it almost comes to a point where there are so many things with which I'm overcome with adoration that I lose my words.

And then there's the bookishness of it all. References to Betsy and Tacy, Ballet Shoes, and Pride and Prejudice...and don't even get me started on The Shop Around the Corner.

My personal bouquet of newly-sharpened pencils currently sits on my desk under my bulletin board. As pictured above, it's framed by two illustrations Heidi gave me from her sketchbook and the Macbeth finger puppets I bought in Stratford-Upon-Avon. The gift itself may seem strange to some people, and I get that: who are you to just sharpen pencils and never use them? That's such a waste.

It's something deeper than that, though. It's the magic of Kathleen's and Joe's relationship, the way it's constructed, the purity of it, the fact that words themselves are the energy driving their lives, both literally and figuratively. The simple things, the beauty of the idea. The creation from something so everyday. Little things that tie people together, whether it be a story of a butterfly on the subway, or the daily endeavors of one Brinkley.

But also, and most importantly, the gift surpasses the meaning the movie has for me. I look at it daily and think of my sister: our shared love for the movie, our mutual adoration for the idea of a bouquet made entirely of school supplies. Our childhood and the memories which we share and differ. Sisterly love and understanding. A bond. In a way, she gave me a piece of us, as cliche as that sounds. That bouquet will always represent that for me. And it will always be just in sight, the first thing I see in the morning, the last thing I see before I sleep.

Thoughts on Summer (Part One, probably)

Since this summer will most likely be the last one I get to savor fully (for the time being), the next the one I plan to cap off my college experience with Something Very Big and Probably Spontaneous. Summer has always been a reprieve. It is the silver lining on the haze of the rest of the year. So much can happen in the space of three months--and it can be anything.

The summer between junior high and high school, my friend Jael and I made a pact to prepare for high school. As far as we were concerned, there was a set of guidelines to follow. The top of the list was that high school girls had tans. So, we went to the pool every day for two weeks to sit in the sun for an hour to build one up--and I remember having a very mild one across my shoulders. The day I finished eighth grade, I felt different. For the rest of the summer, I spent my free time reading, working on the first two pencil drawings I knew would be due for my first high school art class. I wrote a lot that summer. I had finished that novella that I'm now slightly ashamed of. I started my second novel idea--which I have never finished to this day. The soundtrack that summer was Vanessa Carlton's "Be Not Nobody," a CD I listened to over and over as I was writing though at the time I didn't like most of the songs on the album. I made an over-the-shoulder bookbag from an old canvas Boogarts shopping bag, using a leopard striped seatbelt shoulder thing as part of the strap. I dieted the whole summer after talking to a dietician, walking every morning with my mom and keeping track of my calorie intake. We would sit out on the porch after our return to eat breakfast. I tried to get into a beauty regime. The diet, the tan, and Neutrogena were my passes to impressing boys and the rest of the student body. I don't think it actually worked, but at the time I had hope.

That was the summer after Grandpapa passed away, the one before the last summer we saw Grandmama before she died. I looked through Grammy's photo albums for pictures I wanted to draw for art, finding a  stack that I worked my way through. I carried around two sketchbooks and a stack of magazines (mostly relating to Harry Potter) that I drew from. Apart from the family stuff and our Michigan trip, I spent a lot of time by myself, reading, drawing, writing, watching music videos, thinking.....I remember sitting in the living room one afternoon, staring out the screen of the front door, willing someone to come over. Though I appreciate now the time I had to ponder, to prepare myself for what would come, I should have involved myself more. But there was hardly anyone left to involve myself with, because the end of eighth grade was such a grand disaster.

I did, however, get involved in some form during the summers, though it varied depending on the particular summer. For many of them, I was a part of a kids' theater/singing group. I was Dorothy in "The Wiz," Nala in "The Lion King,"and sang many songs like "Aquarius" and "The Time Warp" (which I will never ever tire of). And then there was the community theater group I was involved with, whether it was having a small part in the ensemble or working as a techie. I loved every minute of these experiences--I'm a proud drama kid--though some productions weren't as fun as others and I hated striking the set. But there were so many little "defining moments" from not only being on stage or waiting just offstage to switch out a set, or even waiting for the next cue in the warm high school hallways with the other members of the cast. It became a part of me. It was only during my final involvement with the theater group--that summer's musical was "Will Roger's Follies"--where it just wasn't fun anymore, and I wanted out. That was the summer I almost quit, the last summer I spent in my hometown. I needed to get away from the patterns I was seeing, because a lot of it made me sick. That's not to say that I wouldn't be up to doing theater again in the future--it's just that by that summer, I began to see through the illusion and understand the dynamics of the people I'd grown up with, and I could not handle it anymore.

In junior high and high school, I joined a summer reading group for teens that was held every Thursday. It was called Lunch Bunch, and we would sit picnic style in the conference room at the public library (go libraries!) and eat our lunches, do an activity, and then talk about what we were reading that week. By the time I joined this group (probably right after I finished 6th grade or 7th grade, I can't remember the exact year), I was looking for more to read, and I remember meandering to the YA section for the first time, somewhere I hadn't been before. There was a different feeling standing in front of those few shelves, inspecting the books to find a good one. It seemed...dangerous, and from there, I have never looked back. I'm almost positive that the first summer I was a part of Lunch Bunch, I read a book called That Summer by Sarah Dessen, and it seemed like my life changed, even if it really didn't. I loved being a part of it, and I really miss it.

The summer between my freshman and sophomore years, I spent a lot of time by myself. I read nineteen books--an accomplishment I was very proud of--and began driving lessons. It was a big summer; I was fifteen, and I was determined to be more grown up. I started carrying a purse with me everywhere because I had a learner's permit. My driving instructor rejoiced when I finally drove over 60 miles an hour on the highway. I remember really, really wanting to be a good driver. That was my mantra as I started building up my driving hours: "You need to be a good driver, you need to be a good driver..." Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix came out that summer, and I lost myself in its 800+ pages. It's still my second favorite HP book (the top spot is held by DH). That was also the last summer we went to Michigan and saw my grandmother; she died the following October. I did not know the following school year would be so bad, and it was. Royally. I was incredibly relieved when summer came again.

I know I'm probably not making a lot of sense in this post. As usual, I've been thinking too much and the start of summer vacation has prompted a whole lot of memories that I had almost forgotten I had. There is a certain something about it, though, that keeps me interested. I love reading YA books about summers--and Sarah Dessen is the queen when it comes to good summer reads, whether they're set in summer or not. There's something about the freedom, the liberation in a road trip or vacation, the sounds of thunderstorms, the peace from watching the stars, listening to the crickets and the cicadas, swimming and getting out and just being....I'll probably return to this at some point.

"If you look the right way, you can see the whole world is a garden."

The other day when Alisha and I were at Hastings, I found a copy of The Secret Garden. It had been AGES since I'd seen it--I'm in my early twenties and the only time I was able to watch it was when we'd go visit my grandparents in Omaha because we never got around to getting a copy for ourselves...and the last time I watched it, I was probably 7 or 8. I figured it would be worth it for nostalgia's sake, and so I bought it, unaware of what it would do to me. 

I put it in that night and finished the following day (it had been very late when I started it). I remembered only bits and pieces and I was not expecting to become so enveloped in it...yet the entire time I was caught up in its simplicity and beauty. The walls of the manor were covered in tapestries, the wardrobe Victorian (as is Colin's preoccupation with death). The look of the film itself had the quality and feeling as old photographs do, an air of the antique, of times long forgotten and secrets within. The garden, I think, was what really got me. Vines making their way up the wall, as thick and present as the tapestries in the house, ruins of a building (a church, perhaps?) on one end, and within the expanse, roaming flowers, bushes, animals. And that gorgeous, grand swing...

At the end of the movie, after I'd calmed down from getting unexpectedly emotional while watching Colin running around, his father in tow, showing him every nook and cranny of his mother's garden, I found myself thinking about what had drawn me to it in the first place. There was a sense of magic, of curiosity and mystery that surrounded the story; present in Mary's discovery of an ornate key in the room at the other end of a secret passageway, present in the moment Colin walks for the first time back and forth between Mary and Dickon, present in Mary's dream of her mother in the garden. 

And then I thought about the other films I'd loved as a child: among many others, A Little Princess and Labyrinth. Each of these films has a sense of magic to them. Sara never loses her sense of imagination and belief that every girl is a princess despite her father's apparent death (though her faith is tested when she is forced into servitude immediately after she is told the news). The other girls are enchanted by her storytelling; Miss Minchin's practical viewpoints are challenged with everything that Sara brings to the school. And the film is beautiful...the scene that still enchants me today is the one in which Sara stands on the balcony of her attic prison, and the snow is falling, and she begins to spin around and around......

And then, of course, there is Labyrinth, which is still one of my favorite films ever. The Sarah in this story has one desire only: to find her brother and fix the wrong she caused. She struggles with her love for fantasy and the pressure to be more mature, to act her age. Everything that she encounters works against her; little creatures that live underneath the cobblestone change the direction of her marks, she is always being given the wrong directions, and Jareth controls the conditions of their agreement. But yet she continues on, determined to accomplish what she said she would. And by the end? She discovers that she can overcome anything, telling Jareth, "You have no power over me." Though she attains a sense of maturity by the time her parents arrive home, she also recognizes that her imagination, her fantasy, will always be a part of her and should therefore not be completely shut out.

I fell for these movies long before Nancy Drew, Harry Potter, and American Girl, before I realized that reading was something I loved, that storytelling meant more to me than almost everything else. And though I never read Frances Hodgson Burnett's two classic stories as a kid (something I mean to rectify this summer, if everything goes as planned), the stories themselves stuck with me as I read more and more, soaking up the mystery and the magic. Perhaps these influences left me with with a slightly warped sense of human nature--I tend to underestimate what people can do sometimes--but these were some of the first things that also lead me to think beyond what everyday life presents to us. The human imagination can be a terrible thing, but it is also beautiful, transcending the ordinary ebb and flow of real life, allowing us to grow and understand better who we are. With The Secret Garden, I discovered that there is beauty within mystery and that it is these mysteries that engage the mind and ignite the imagination. Perhaps this child-like curiosity and fascination with storytelling will be with me for the rest of my life. I don't mind, though. It keeps things interesting.