Dear Internets,
Thank you so very much for all of your wonderful, fabulous, fantastic links on today, Harry Potter Day! I am quite enjoying them. So much so that I am going to share some of them here, in case anybody else has missed out.
Zoot, who wrote the original template I used for this blog, so I've been reading her for at least six years, and her older son are adorable here. Cheers for tolerant teenagers.
Jennie culls through the Collective's archives for some of the most amazing Harry Potter-related posts ever.
s. e. smith (posting at Tiger Beatdown) talks about accessibility - or lack thereof - and why it is a bitch for people who like things or want to be happy for a little while that nobody (with the power to change things) cares about it very much.
Gretchen Alice compiled the Harry Potter project, full of other people's stories about their HP experiences. (Which I meant to contribute to, but just didn't get around to)
and Tumblr, dear Tumblr is chock full of magic today as it is every day.
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Dear Chunkys,
You are not to be thanked for having only one 2-D version available (and pre-sold) for your midnight showings of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Pt2. Some of us require 2-D versions, and also really appreciate being able to sit in comfortable chairs for close to three hours. Yours is the only local theater that is truly accessible to me, on most days, and you went and ruined it by insisting on 3-D (which is completely inaccessible, unfortunately).(Please see Tiger Beatdown link, above.) Since I have to choose between a Fibro-flare and unmanageable migraine & dizziness, I'm going to go with the flare, and take my business elsewhere for the show. But bad call, Chunkys; bad call.
(PS - I will be attempting to take my nephew to the same movie sometime next month - see if you can figure this out better for next time, won't you?)
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Dear Other Movie Theaters,
I do not really like you, because your chairs are very uncomfortable, and I do not have the option of ignoring that. You are also often inaccessible in other ways, and to many people other than myself. I recommend that you read the Tiger Beatdown link above, as well, and try to remedy that ASAP. As for tonight, I would appreciate it if you did your best to not be so stinking uncomfortable that I am unable to focus on the movie... there is much crying and squeeing to be done, and - while I realize your place of business generally forgets that people like me exist - I want to do my share. Also, on a more positive note, thank you for adding 2-D showings to your midnight offerings - it is much appreciated.
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Dear Fibro-flare,
I know that you are making yourself at home, post-SisterCh's shower and family bad news, but I'd rather you didn't. As a matter of fact, should you choose to abandon me, I would be most grateful. In the meantime: do not mess up my very last chance to attend a midnight showing of Harry Potter... I would be most displeased. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.
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Dear Readers,
Hello! Have you read all the fabulous Harry Potter posts the internets are sharing with us today? In case you were wondering, I am wicked excited about attending the midnight showing tonight, and super psyched about the whole thing. We've talked before about my Harry Potter love, but I'm going to try not to rehash all of that right now (in order to refrain from writing about how 'magical' the whole thing is). Suffice it to say that the fact that it is coming to an end - the original series and all that goes with it - is bittersweet, for sure.
My family has had a bittersweet week itself - SisterCh's shower was beyond amazeballs - a lot of hard work (SisterJ rocked it out of the park, SisterK really showed up at the last minute and helped us pull it out), a few cranky "I don't play shower games"-ers (neither do I - but if there are games, the least you could do is pretend it isn't going to infect you with something), and a mess I've barely begun to clean, but still - she was quite happy, and people were definitely impressed - I'm going to have to steal some of the pictures SisterJ took, because I'm sure the only ones I got were of present-opening, but trust me, it went really well, even if said Fibro-flare tried to make me miserable (Fail!). The bitter came, unfortunately, later that same day, when we found out that my uncle - who was quiet and funny and far away - lost his battle with brain cancer. He is the fourth of my grandmother's nine children to die in the past twelve years, and the only one whose death we were (mostly) prepared for, but it's still been tough. To sit with my grandmother, and hear her talk about being superfluous and wondering why "He" would keep doing this to her. To hear from all the cousins and aunts and uncles who are grieving and remembering fathers, mothers, brothers, gone. To live through it all, again & to know that there'll be more grieving coming, and just want to run away and hide, and not have to face any of it. It's not an immediate loss, for most of us - because he was the recluse of the bunch, for sure - but it's still a loss, and I'm sick of losing.
Ahem. So - The movie better be amazing (and I have heard that it is), because it feels like I've been waiting for-ever for it, and for the chance to go to the midnight show (sans costume, unfortunately: things came up - although I'd make a pretty good Bellatrix, if I just didn't brush my hair), but mostly because I just need it right now. I just need the magic (crap: puns, there is no avoiding them when it comes to this subject: sorry!) and connectedness and community and love. I need the fandom and the characters, and the knowing that there are a million other people sitting out there in the dark somewhere, tonight, crying their way through the Forbidden Forest with me.
Total bonus is that I get to go with SisterK, seeing as how she's moving away in a couple weeks and is all "being a grown up" now and stuff. She was younger than my Oldest Nephew is now when we (BigBrother & I ) took her to the first one. She was eleven - just like Harry - when she started reading the books. And I'm pretty sure she's the only one in my family (besides me) who is still disappointed that no owl ever showed up for her. She got her drivers license (way late) especially for this - well, this and the fact that she has to drive halfway across the country in a few weeks, but let's just say it was for this. And I'm going to buy really expensive popcorn and not care at all.
I've been seeing a lot of "Thank you, Harry!" or "Thank you, Jo!" type posts around, and I'm in love with them all. Because those are my people - people who get that books and movies are more than words and pictures, and that characters can be true friends and stories can be more powerful than you can imagine. People who understand that the gift of forgetting about your own life for a little while - no matter how good or bad it may be - is a treasure. And who don't take it for granted.
Technically, I was 'too old'* for Harry Potter - it wasn't my childhood, or even my teenage-hood. I started reading them as they came out, but it wasn't until college. They've been important to me, just the same. Sharing it with my sisters, even though they were only kind of into it; sharing it with my nephew, even though he reads s o o o s l o w l y; battling my brother to get back my copy of the last book; laying on a bed with SisterK, trying to read more slowly so the day wouldn't end: these aren't things that I take lightly or will ever forget. It's good for me, today, this week, to have those things to remember & it's hard for me to believe that they all came about because one lady decided to start writing things down in a coffee shop somewhere.
To someone who loves words as much as I do, that is pretty much a miracle. That the writing down of words; the creation of a universe so different from our own, and yet fundamentally the same; the invention of spaces and spells and specialness; the journey of a boy and his friends, could come to mean so much, to so many.
It won't be the end of the world, when there's no more new Harry Potter movies, just as the world didn't end when George Lucas decided there'd been enough Star Wars movies (of course, some people rejoiced, but that's a little bit off topic), but that doesn't matter - it doesn't make it less sad that there's nothing new coming down the line. It's ok that it's sad - that's life. But the best part is, fifteen years ago, I'd never heard of Harry Potter, and neither had anybody else, really. So there's always the possibility that tomorrow, some other journey will start, and we'll all fall in love with somebody else. That's life too: exciting and surprising.
So I'll go tonight to the midnight show (my first! midnight showing!) and I'll try my best to have an amazing time & knowing that it's not the end of the world, and that it will be incredibly bittersweet. And I'll love every minute of it, and be thankful that I'm here to enjoy it.
Miss you! Be back soon!
Showing posts with label Harry Potter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Harry Potter. Show all posts
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Today, I'm heading to the movies to see HP 7 ; I am quite excited. Through a jumble of circumstances, this year it's going to be Big/Only Brother, Youngest Sister, NoLongerYoungest Nephew and me. Which is an odd group, regardless, mostly because B/O Brother isn't all that big on outings, and Youngest Sister has too busy a non-family social life to wind up spending too much time with me, but it's also kind of neat. Because B/O Brother and I took SisterK to the very first Harry Potter movie back when it first came out (9 years ago!) for her 13th Birthday.
Sister K was, as the target audience for Harry Potter, the first person (not in my Children's Literature class) that I was able to share the HP books with: She'd received the first book as a gift from a teacher when it came out in the US, but she was just finishing it up about the same time I was assigned to read it for class the following fall, and she told me how much she liked it.
Best Friend/College Roommate and I bought one copy and shared it between us, just like we did for any classes we were both taking (which, since we had the same Ed major, was a lot) but I have to say that the closest we came to arguing was over that one copy of The Sorcerer's Stone: She started it first, since she was a slower reader than I was, and - as she did with other books we shared (a lot, as we shared a lot of classes) - she would leave try to leave it in the room so that I could pick it up if I got around to it. But she liked it so much that she started carrying it with her, in the hopes of sneaking in some reading time between classes or whenever. I was displeased, because I wanted to get my hands on it: by now, reports were coming back from all over campus - and across the country - about the boy with the lightening bolt scar, and how great his story was.
Eventually, she finished and then I finished, and then I talked to Sister K about it for-ev-er. We dissected it, and re-read it and ran out to the get the sequels as they each made their appearance. When the last book came out, Sister K laid at one end of my bed and read Book 7 while I laid at the other, finishing my re-read of Book 6 and reading Book 7 (I didn't want to be too far ahead, and spoil the whole thing for her). We both cried - some of us more than others (but that was just because she was reading too slow to be where I was!) - and munched on salty foods, and I may have had to close the book at one point and wait for her to get closer to where I was so I could talk to somebody about what happened (!) But it will be, forever, one of my favorite days: just the two of us, lost in the English countryside and castles with Harry, Hermoine and Ron. (Even though she didn't finish till Monday, which made me want to tear my hair out because I didn't have anybody to squee or cry with, and yes, I realize I am too old for squeeing: shut up.)
It was a few years after the first book came out that I managed to convince O/B Brother that he - Star Wars fanatic that he is - would enjoy them too. And by then, the first movie was coming out, and I talked him into taking us for Sister K's birthday. And we had a ball, and planned to make it a yearly event. I haven't seen any of the others in the theater, unfortunately, because the sicker I got the harder it got to make it to a movie theater. Between the uncomfortable chairs, the overwhelming loudness, the insistence of movie people to include zooming scenes galore (compounded with gigantic screens), not to mention the years I couldn't be around other people's germs at all, and the years when I didn't have the energy to roll over in bed, let alone add an outing to a non-required place, I think I didn't go to the movies for at least three years. But then some things got better, and other things didn't but I learned how to adjust (earplugs! skip quidditch scenes all together!) and then I found out about this place around here with actual COMFY chairs to sit in (and they sell real food, but whatever: COMFY CHAIRS, people!), and I've been able to make it to about one movie a year ever since. (Last year, in case you care, it was Where the Wild Things Are, the year before that Indiana Jones and The Crystal Skull, and this year, it's Harry Potter 7 Pt1 .)
And even better, is that I've been introducing NLYNephew to all things Harry Potter over the course of the past year or so, so he's excited to come with us too! He hasn't made it as far as the last book yet, but he's caught up on the movies, and is a slow reader, so he's extremely curious to find out what happens. I have a feeling that, since it's only Part 1, he might not be too satisfied by the end of the movie, but I think it's still going to be awesome.
Which means I should go get dressed now or something, before I convince myself that it's ok to go out in public in my pajamas. (again). :)
Hope your weekend is bringing you something equally exciting to you!
Sister K was, as the target audience for Harry Potter, the first person (not in my Children's Literature class) that I was able to share the HP books with: She'd received the first book as a gift from a teacher when it came out in the US, but she was just finishing it up about the same time I was assigned to read it for class the following fall, and she told me how much she liked it.
Best Friend/College Roommate and I bought one copy and shared it between us, just like we did for any classes we were both taking (which, since we had the same Ed major, was a lot) but I have to say that the closest we came to arguing was over that one copy of The Sorcerer's Stone: She started it first, since she was a slower reader than I was, and - as she did with other books we shared (a lot, as we shared a lot of classes) - she would leave try to leave it in the room so that I could pick it up if I got around to it. But she liked it so much that she started carrying it with her, in the hopes of sneaking in some reading time between classes or whenever. I was displeased, because I wanted to get my hands on it: by now, reports were coming back from all over campus - and across the country - about the boy with the lightening bolt scar, and how great his story was.
Eventually, she finished and then I finished, and then I talked to Sister K about it for-ev-er. We dissected it, and re-read it and ran out to the get the sequels as they each made their appearance. When the last book came out, Sister K laid at one end of my bed and read Book 7 while I laid at the other, finishing my re-read of Book 6 and reading Book 7 (I didn't want to be too far ahead, and spoil the whole thing for her). We both cried - some of us more than others (but that was just because she was reading too slow to be where I was!) - and munched on salty foods, and I may have had to close the book at one point and wait for her to get closer to where I was so I could talk to somebody about what happened (!) But it will be, forever, one of my favorite days: just the two of us, lost in the English countryside and castles with Harry, Hermoine and Ron. (Even though she didn't finish till Monday, which made me want to tear my hair out because I didn't have anybody to squee or cry with, and yes, I realize I am too old for squeeing: shut up.)
It was a few years after the first book came out that I managed to convince O/B Brother that he - Star Wars fanatic that he is - would enjoy them too. And by then, the first movie was coming out, and I talked him into taking us for Sister K's birthday. And we had a ball, and planned to make it a yearly event. I haven't seen any of the others in the theater, unfortunately, because the sicker I got the harder it got to make it to a movie theater. Between the uncomfortable chairs, the overwhelming loudness, the insistence of movie people to include zooming scenes galore (compounded with gigantic screens), not to mention the years I couldn't be around other people's germs at all, and the years when I didn't have the energy to roll over in bed, let alone add an outing to a non-required place, I think I didn't go to the movies for at least three years. But then some things got better, and other things didn't but I learned how to adjust (earplugs! skip quidditch scenes all together!) and then I found out about this place around here with actual COMFY chairs to sit in (and they sell real food, but whatever: COMFY CHAIRS, people!), and I've been able to make it to about one movie a year ever since. (Last year, in case you care, it was Where the Wild Things Are, the year before that Indiana Jones and The Crystal Skull, and this year, it's Harry Potter 7 Pt1 .)
And even better, is that I've been introducing NLYNephew to all things Harry Potter over the course of the past year or so, so he's excited to come with us too! He hasn't made it as far as the last book yet, but he's caught up on the movies, and is a slow reader, so he's extremely curious to find out what happens. I have a feeling that, since it's only Part 1, he might not be too satisfied by the end of the movie, but I think it's still going to be awesome.
Which means I should go get dressed now or something, before I convince myself that it's ok to go out in public in my pajamas. (again). :)
Hope your weekend is bringing you something equally exciting to you!
Monday, July 12, 2010
Best shots - 2 for the price of 1
Here are two of my best shots from the last little while -
Here's Lil Girl, down at the beach. Since Auntie and sunlight are not friendly, we sat up under the bandstand and blew bubbles that floated down to the ocean. Then the kids collected shells and rocks, and we ate pizza and drank Shirley Temples. It was the very definition of a fine summer day.
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And here's another recent favorite - (No Longer) Youngest Nephew, reading along with the Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets book on tape. I love this picture for so many reasons: The fact that he was voluntarily reading; The fact that he'd never used actual tapes before and I had to instruct him on how to flip it over and press play (even though it made me feel ancient); The fact that, since the spring, he's powered through three of the books, and he's as excited as I am about part one of The Deathly Hallows coming out in November. It's just an all around favorite.
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So there are the two kids I'm spending most of my time with this summer; Don't forget to head over to Tracey's place to check out who she's spending her summer with, and the rest of the Best Shots.
Here's Lil Girl, down at the beach. Since Auntie and sunlight are not friendly, we sat up under the bandstand and blew bubbles that floated down to the ocean. Then the kids collected shells and rocks, and we ate pizza and drank Shirley Temples. It was the very definition of a fine summer day.
.JPG)
And here's another recent favorite - (No Longer) Youngest Nephew, reading along with the Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets book on tape. I love this picture for so many reasons: The fact that he was voluntarily reading; The fact that he'd never used actual tapes before and I had to instruct him on how to flip it over and press play (even though it made me feel ancient); The fact that, since the spring, he's powered through three of the books, and he's as excited as I am about part one of The Deathly Hallows coming out in November. It's just an all around favorite.
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So there are the two kids I'm spending most of my time with this summer; Don't forget to head over to Tracey's place to check out who she's spending her summer with, and the rest of the Best Shots.
Friday, July 09, 2010
Points of order
Point the First - This weekend is a Harry Potter weekend on ABC Family. I am 31 years old, and I have already seen all of the Harry Potter movies, multiple times. I own them, and could watch them without commercials, whenever I so chose.... I will still have channel 26 on in the background for the next three days, and may or may not be reciting lines as I go from one room to the other. (Am. Can't help it: "Even in the wizarding world hearing voices isn't a good sign".) My sister, the one who reads my blog (at least I think she still does: it isn't as if I've been writing all that much lately), said the other day that she thought maybe she was "over" the Harry Potter movies, or something similar to that. I, on the other hand, am trying to convince one of my sisters - any sister, really - that we have to go to the midnight show of the next movie (and maybe the last one too). I've also watched the trailer for The Deathly Hallows Pt1 approximately 14 times. I am pretty sure I will be heartbroken when all the movies are finally out and there are no more new ones to wait for: I was with the books. ("The Boy Who Lived, Come To Die.")
Point the Second - Since this is the Summer Of No Whining, I am only going to briefly mention that it is quite hot in the northeast at this present time. That's all - it is quite hot, no additional comment necessary.
Point the Third - Tomorrow I am going to try scrapbooking, for the first time in many, many (too many) months. I am quite far behind, and know I will spend a great deal of the day reorganizing my equipment and stock and stuff, before I will get to any actual creating. That is my least favorite part, because every time I think I have it all sorted out, I buy something else that there is no spot for, and then I have to start all over again. (And other times, I am too exhausted to do this organizing, so I fall further and further behind.) But I do have about 10-15 ideas on my scrap list, so if I get to the point where I can start, I have some good beginnings to work from.
Point the Fourth - I have no point the fourth besides: Have a great weekend, everybody.
Oh - and Point the Fifth: Congratulations to Ms. Janice on her brand new job! We knew you would find something, and that you'll be awesome at it! Best of Luck, chica!
Point the Second - Since this is the Summer Of No Whining, I am only going to briefly mention that it is quite hot in the northeast at this present time. That's all - it is quite hot, no additional comment necessary.
Point the Third - Tomorrow I am going to try scrapbooking, for the first time in many, many (too many) months. I am quite far behind, and know I will spend a great deal of the day reorganizing my equipment and stock and stuff, before I will get to any actual creating. That is my least favorite part, because every time I think I have it all sorted out, I buy something else that there is no spot for, and then I have to start all over again. (And other times, I am too exhausted to do this organizing, so I fall further and further behind.) But I do have about 10-15 ideas on my scrap list, so if I get to the point where I can start, I have some good beginnings to work from.
Point the Fourth - I have no point the fourth besides: Have a great weekend, everybody.
Oh - and Point the Fifth: Congratulations to Ms. Janice on her brand new job! We knew you would find something, and that you'll be awesome at it! Best of Luck, chica!
Friday, August 21, 2009
A little catching up...
Here is something people must forget about the whole concept of moving: once you are in the new place, you have to find a spot for all the things you've brought with you.
Or, if people don't, at least we did.
Right now, we are still living slightly bare bones - big furniture that the movers brought over (couches, beds, refrigerators), plus the personal care stuff you don't go anywhere without, some clothes, a couple of tables and bookcases and what not. But next week, we're getting our storage pods back, and now we have to figure out where the hell everything goes. Of course, I am "not supposed to worry about that", but since I am the only damn one who actually worries about things ahead of time, I have, of course, been worrying about that.
People who can get up and move things if the location of something doesn't suit them don't exactly think about what it means to not be able to do that. So that, if I have them set up my room (or the library, which I am still totally claiming as mostly mine) in one way and it doesn't work for me? Then I have to wait till everybody - or enough bodies, anyways - can make the time to come over here and help me again. And that is a party and a half.
So I've been skootching my bed (on wheels) from spot to spot, trying to decide where I get the least amount of sun glaring off the white house next door; trying to see how long the cords for my computer run, and how to make space for my printer; wondering where all of my crafty stuff is ever going to fit... all that kind of stuff. It's not high stress, but it takes a working brain, and some days I barely have that.
In other news, Harry Potter 7 is no longer playing at the only movie theater in our neck of the woods where I can watch movies, so I'll have to wait for Netflix for that one; my Wednesday appointment with Zach almost ended with me being hospitalized because of my know-nothing of a PCP, who told me that my intense ear pain was just some excess fluid in my ears - 3 weeks ago! - and was (shockingly) wrong. Instead I now have a double ear infection and a sinus infection and they've left me severely dehydrated and with quite the elevated numbers - Zach thinks it's probably not a good idea to see her anymore, which I knew way back last September, but Mass Health disagreed. Of course, now I've actually moved, so they can't give me crap about picking somebody closer, but still... grr I hate picking new doctors; And lastly, in happy news I haven't shared yet, my oldest sister -SisterS - is going to be a mama again (13 years after Oldest Nephew), and is due in the beginning of December: I am very excited, even if the little man will live too far away from us (They're up in Cow Hampshire, about 2 hours away). So, now I have to come up with a new name for Youngest Nephew, I guess... or something like that.
Anyways... that's what's happening in our little world, where it's been in the 90s all week (I got a blister on my arm after being outside with the kids - WITH SPF 85 on - for about 25 minutes. I was in the shade. Screw you, antibiotics and your "you may be more sensitive to the sun" warnings) and where the weather man is right this minute telling us about a tornado watch we are under until 9:00 and how Hurricane Bill might cause flooding this weekend.
Why did we decide to stay in Massachusetts again? Cuz it sure wasn't the weather. (Actually, I tend to like our weather, but this week has been ri-dic-u-lous.)
Oh, and I have a new banner: how do you like it?
Or, if people don't, at least we did.
Right now, we are still living slightly bare bones - big furniture that the movers brought over (couches, beds, refrigerators), plus the personal care stuff you don't go anywhere without, some clothes, a couple of tables and bookcases and what not. But next week, we're getting our storage pods back, and now we have to figure out where the hell everything goes. Of course, I am "not supposed to worry about that", but since I am the only damn one who actually worries about things ahead of time, I have, of course, been worrying about that.
People who can get up and move things if the location of something doesn't suit them don't exactly think about what it means to not be able to do that. So that, if I have them set up my room (or the library, which I am still totally claiming as mostly mine) in one way and it doesn't work for me? Then I have to wait till everybody - or enough bodies, anyways - can make the time to come over here and help me again. And that is a party and a half.
So I've been skootching my bed (on wheels) from spot to spot, trying to decide where I get the least amount of sun glaring off the white house next door; trying to see how long the cords for my computer run, and how to make space for my printer; wondering where all of my crafty stuff is ever going to fit... all that kind of stuff. It's not high stress, but it takes a working brain, and some days I barely have that.
In other news, Harry Potter 7 is no longer playing at the only movie theater in our neck of the woods where I can watch movies, so I'll have to wait for Netflix for that one; my Wednesday appointment with Zach almost ended with me being hospitalized because of my know-nothing of a PCP, who told me that my intense ear pain was just some excess fluid in my ears - 3 weeks ago! - and was (shockingly) wrong. Instead I now have a double ear infection and a sinus infection and they've left me severely dehydrated and with quite the elevated numbers - Zach thinks it's probably not a good idea to see her anymore, which I knew way back last September, but Mass Health disagreed. Of course, now I've actually moved, so they can't give me crap about picking somebody closer, but still... grr I hate picking new doctors; And lastly, in happy news I haven't shared yet, my oldest sister -SisterS - is going to be a mama again (13 years after Oldest Nephew), and is due in the beginning of December: I am very excited, even if the little man will live too far away from us (They're up in Cow Hampshire, about 2 hours away). So, now I have to come up with a new name for Youngest Nephew, I guess... or something like that.
Anyways... that's what's happening in our little world, where it's been in the 90s all week (I got a blister on my arm after being outside with the kids - WITH SPF 85 on - for about 25 minutes. I was in the shade. Screw you, antibiotics and your "you may be more sensitive to the sun" warnings) and where the weather man is right this minute telling us about a tornado watch we are under until 9:00 and how Hurricane Bill might cause flooding this weekend.
Why did we decide to stay in Massachusetts again? Cuz it sure wasn't the weather. (Actually, I tend to like our weather, but this week has been ri-dic-u-lous.)
Oh, and I have a new banner: how do you like it?
Monday, July 13, 2009
Next time, I'm going to make somebody
skip out on work and take me to the midnight showing. But not this year -
which does not mean I am not uber excited Re: the new Harry Potter movie. (Wanna make something of it?)
Image via momentarily
which does not mean I am not uber excited Re: the new Harry Potter movie. (Wanna make something of it?)
Image via momentarily
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Because they make a good point about Dumbledore
who should have just TOLD Harry that Voldemort could read his thoughts instead of hiding from him for an entire school year... Check out this article, about lazy wizards. The highlight:
Must be making plans for HP 6 soon... am VERY excited.
Gargamel is a hermit "wizard" who is the Smurfs' main antagonist. At various times he either wants to capture the Smurfs and use them as part of a potion that creates gold, or he wants to eat them. The Smurfs are a versatile resource for Gargamel.From The 7 Most Powerful Wizards Too Lazy To Use Their Powers
The case against him:
If successful wizarding were baseball, Gargamel would be the White Sox. His only goal in life is to capture the Smurfs and since all Smurfs are roughly the size of squirrels and subsist almost entirely on a diet of Smurfberries, one would conclude that a basic knowledge of mousetraps would do the trick.
Instead, Gargamel, with the entire arsenal of potions from the wizarding world at his disposal, launches infuriatingly complicated Rube Goldbergian magical schemes, and completely fails every single time.
Being outsmarted by a Smurf is like being outsmarted by one of your shoes. The Smurfs each fulfill a specific function in their little communist utopia, such as being bashful, vain or gay. Take them out of that element and they have no idea how to cope outside of screaming their blue heads off to get Papa Smurf to rescue them. The fact that Papa Smurf usually does rescue them by using his own magical powers means that Papa Smurf is actually a far greater wizard than Gargamel. By extension this probably also means that one of your shoes is likely a far greater wizard than Gargamel.
Must be making plans for HP 6 soon... am VERY excited.
Friday, April 10, 2009
My quote this week
"It's a strange thing, but when you are dreading something, and would give anything to slow down time, it has a disobliging habit of speeding up."
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, J.K. Rowling
Time is going both too fast and too slow just now. The closer we get to our move out date of April 30th, the more I want time to just pause - not slow down or go faster, but to just wait a minute for me to catch my breath. Just wait a minute for me to make tough decisions, for me to know which is the right way to go, what is the right thing to do.
As time shows no signs of actually complying with this request, I figure I better just pick something, or else.
And I'm not really up for any 'or else's right now, thank you.
Hope your Friday is going ok, and wishing you all a nice, restful weekend.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Speaking of fools...
**** Hey Sister of Mine - This is probably not a post you want to read, unless you feel like crying or being pumped full of rage. It's about the PUS. Feel free to skip. (This goes for anybody, of course, but my sister especially). I'd rather not write it, to be honest, but it's probably a wiser option than waiting till one of them comes by and kicking them in the face. Which is what I feel like doing. So; writing it is. ****
The PUS are just about all moved out now, with just their part of the cellar and what the realtor calls 'a few odds and ends' left upstairs to take with them. I can not fully explain how amazing it feels to be in this house and not be afraid of having to leave because of something they've done that will make me more ill. Or how it brings me peace to be able to take Lil Girl outside to draw with sidewalk chalk and not have to worry about someone pulling into the driveway and shooting us dirty looks, or worse, attempting to talk to me. It is bittersweet, to the extreme, to have this house be almost the way it always should have been - ours.
Only Nana is missing.
And she has been on heavy on my mind lately as we move into this final month of our residence here, how could she not be?
Her best friend came over to visit us yesterday. Because she's afraid that we'll move too far for her to come again, the visit was full of unnecessary goodbyes, (as we aren't moving anymore than 30 minutes away no matter what) but she also spent a good deal of time rehashing old hurts: cursing the PUS for all they did to Nana, cursing Nana for putting up with it, wishing she'd been able to convince her to do something about it. It was like listening to my own soul talking, especially when she said
"If we could've found a way, she'd probably still be alive today."
To outsiders, this statement makes no sense, I'm sure. An overreaction, perhaps, or wishful thinking to the extreme. But to me, it is a mere fact --> my grandmother, no spring chicken when she died at 84, would most likely have had a longer (and most definitely a happier) life if she hadn't had to battle everyday for just the air she breathed.
Stress, we all know, is aging. It's detrimental to your body on a cellular level. It hurts physically and emotionally. And my Nana lived in a soul crushingly stressful environment. It wasn't even just stress, it wasn't ordinary familial tension - she lived in a place where she was abused, everyday.
It takes a lot for me to write that. To know that it is true and to know that there were choices we all made - choices that I made - that enabled that abuse to continue.
I hope that in all my life, I will never do anything that I could regret more than not doing what I know was right. I hope that I would be strong enough, now, to know that having her mad at me for calling the cops - over and over again, if necessary - would be preferable to not having her at all.
"She wasn't beaten to death," you might say, "She died of cancer." And you would be right. She did. She did die of cancer, but she also died because her environment was toxic; because her son and his 'family' poisoned her everyday.
By ignoring her. By making her feel worthless and stupid and vile. By treating her as if she were little more than a bank - a bank where loans never had to be repaid and interest was never charged and you could insult the clerks at will. By hurting her heart and allowing their children to say that she wasn't their grandmother, or that they'd never really loved her. By screaming at her and calling her hideous names. By not caring for her when she was so obviously sick, and not caring enough to let anyone else have the chance to care for her either. By bullying her into believing all the wretched things they said about her (or us), and threatening her if she dared to stand up for herself (or us). By treating her as though she was invisible - by showing her that her opinion meant so little it didn't deserve to be heard, that her presence meant so little it wasn't even worth noting. By making it so that no one else could stand to come to her house, since it meant being in their presence, since it meant having to sit by seething while she was belittled or being belittled themselves.
(I would say here, in order to keep myself from becoming completely enraged, all over again, and because I am listening to the Harry Potter books on cassette tape, that she was Dobby, and they never gave her so much as a sock. If that makes sense to you, I think we should be friends:) )
They poisoned her, as sure as if they'd been feeding her arsenic, and 22 years worth is a lot of arsenic to swallow. It's a long time, and a lot of damage, and if every day you're living on a battlefield, using all your strength and energy to fight off poisons, you don't have any extra resources when you need them.
And that's really what happened to her - she just didn't have the resources she needed for that next battle, and it happened to be against a foe she couldn't best.
I'm not saying she wouldn't have had cancer. I'm not even saying she would have survived the cancer, really. I'm just saying that she would've had a better shot at doing so if she didn't have to also survive her 'son' and the rest of the PUS.
You may disagree, and I haven't written it before because, well... it sounds so stupid written down like that, even to me. But they wore her down, they wore down her spirit and her energy and her self, and when she got sick, she needed all those things and didn't have them. So yeah: I think that the damage they've done is immeasurable. And I am damn glad to see them go.
But today, alone in the house, as I heard the footsteps of Hippobeast PUS (the daughter - who's 22 now & who was one of Nana's frequent tormentors) thump on the back steps, I had a moment of "What's to stop me?"
My anger was so clear and sharp and focused that if I were capable of climbing the stairs, Ithinkknow, in that moment, I absolutely would have. I wanted to yell at her. To tell her how evil I think she really is; to tell her the truth.
We haven't talked in over 12 years, and I assume that she thinks I am as horrific as I think she is, but in that moment I just wanted to be able to look her in the face and say: "Listen, you need to hear this from somebody, and it sure as shit ain't going to be your fucked up parents that tell you because they're even more delusional than you are. So hear this clearly, and know that it is true - YOU are wrong.
All those things you did, at first because your parents did them, and then later just because you could? The hateful things you said and the punishing ways you acted? Were wrong. Were evil and hurtful and poisonous and led directly to the dissolution of our 'family' and to Nana's death. And you can never make that better.
I can't go back and do the right thing - I can't go back and call the cops when I should've or actually send that letter to the lawyer the way I wanted to, and that will always haunt me. But you can't go back either, you can't undue the harm you did, the hurt you've caused, and I can't let you leave this house without letting you know that I hope it haunts you. Because it should."
It's probably good that I can't climb the stairs, because even as I was thinking about how great it would be to deliver this truth to her in person, I didn't, for a second, imagine that she would just sit there and let me say all of that to her. And that would've pissed me off even more, and things would most likely have escalated. (Although, seriously? Giving her the chance to punch me might have been worth any increase in pain because you know I would've called the cops then, friends.)
And by the time she plodded her way back down the stairs, I had calmed down enough to return to my Harry Potter and plot about how to 'accidentally' aim a Cruciatus Curse at them all instead, but the wanting is still there. Because I know that they still think they didn't do anything wrong.
That they will never think they did anything wrong - that they were the victims of a family that turned their backs on them, as opposed to the perpetrators that caused a family to be shattered.
And that's not okay with me. But I'm just going to have to let it go.
So, even though we still don't know where we'll be, I am definitely looking forward to thirty days from today, when I won't have to see them again. Or hear their false voices again, or suffer under their hands ever again.
And then? I shall have to settle for the Obliteration Charm instead, wiping them from my life once and for all.
The PUS are just about all moved out now, with just their part of the cellar and what the realtor calls 'a few odds and ends' left upstairs to take with them. I can not fully explain how amazing it feels to be in this house and not be afraid of having to leave because of something they've done that will make me more ill. Or how it brings me peace to be able to take Lil Girl outside to draw with sidewalk chalk and not have to worry about someone pulling into the driveway and shooting us dirty looks, or worse, attempting to talk to me. It is bittersweet, to the extreme, to have this house be almost the way it always should have been - ours.
Only Nana is missing.
And she has been on heavy on my mind lately as we move into this final month of our residence here, how could she not be?
Her best friend came over to visit us yesterday. Because she's afraid that we'll move too far for her to come again, the visit was full of unnecessary goodbyes, (as we aren't moving anymore than 30 minutes away no matter what) but she also spent a good deal of time rehashing old hurts: cursing the PUS for all they did to Nana, cursing Nana for putting up with it, wishing she'd been able to convince her to do something about it. It was like listening to my own soul talking, especially when she said
"If we could've found a way, she'd probably still be alive today."
To outsiders, this statement makes no sense, I'm sure. An overreaction, perhaps, or wishful thinking to the extreme. But to me, it is a mere fact --> my grandmother, no spring chicken when she died at 84, would most likely have had a longer (and most definitely a happier) life if she hadn't had to battle everyday for just the air she breathed.
Stress, we all know, is aging. It's detrimental to your body on a cellular level. It hurts physically and emotionally. And my Nana lived in a soul crushingly stressful environment. It wasn't even just stress, it wasn't ordinary familial tension - she lived in a place where she was abused, everyday.
It takes a lot for me to write that. To know that it is true and to know that there were choices we all made - choices that I made - that enabled that abuse to continue.
I hope that in all my life, I will never do anything that I could regret more than not doing what I know was right. I hope that I would be strong enough, now, to know that having her mad at me for calling the cops - over and over again, if necessary - would be preferable to not having her at all.
"She wasn't beaten to death," you might say, "She died of cancer." And you would be right. She did. She did die of cancer, but she also died because her environment was toxic; because her son and his 'family' poisoned her everyday.
By ignoring her. By making her feel worthless and stupid and vile. By treating her as if she were little more than a bank - a bank where loans never had to be repaid and interest was never charged and you could insult the clerks at will. By hurting her heart and allowing their children to say that she wasn't their grandmother, or that they'd never really loved her. By screaming at her and calling her hideous names. By not caring for her when she was so obviously sick, and not caring enough to let anyone else have the chance to care for her either. By bullying her into believing all the wretched things they said about her (or us), and threatening her if she dared to stand up for herself (or us). By treating her as though she was invisible - by showing her that her opinion meant so little it didn't deserve to be heard, that her presence meant so little it wasn't even worth noting. By making it so that no one else could stand to come to her house, since it meant being in their presence, since it meant having to sit by seething while she was belittled or being belittled themselves.
(I would say here, in order to keep myself from becoming completely enraged, all over again, and because I am listening to the Harry Potter books on cassette tape, that she was Dobby, and they never gave her so much as a sock. If that makes sense to you, I think we should be friends:) )
They poisoned her, as sure as if they'd been feeding her arsenic, and 22 years worth is a lot of arsenic to swallow. It's a long time, and a lot of damage, and if every day you're living on a battlefield, using all your strength and energy to fight off poisons, you don't have any extra resources when you need them.
And that's really what happened to her - she just didn't have the resources she needed for that next battle, and it happened to be against a foe she couldn't best.
I'm not saying she wouldn't have had cancer. I'm not even saying she would have survived the cancer, really. I'm just saying that she would've had a better shot at doing so if she didn't have to also survive her 'son' and the rest of the PUS.
You may disagree, and I haven't written it before because, well... it sounds so stupid written down like that, even to me. But they wore her down, they wore down her spirit and her energy and her self, and when she got sick, she needed all those things and didn't have them. So yeah: I think that the damage they've done is immeasurable. And I am damn glad to see them go.
But today, alone in the house, as I heard the footsteps of Hippobeast PUS (the daughter - who's 22 now & who was one of Nana's frequent tormentors) thump on the back steps, I had a moment of "What's to stop me?"
My anger was so clear and sharp and focused that if I were capable of climbing the stairs, I
We haven't talked in over 12 years, and I assume that she thinks I am as horrific as I think she is, but in that moment I just wanted to be able to look her in the face and say: "Listen, you need to hear this from somebody, and it sure as shit ain't going to be your fucked up parents that tell you because they're even more delusional than you are. So hear this clearly, and know that it is true - YOU are wrong.
All those things you did, at first because your parents did them, and then later just because you could? The hateful things you said and the punishing ways you acted? Were wrong. Were evil and hurtful and poisonous and led directly to the dissolution of our 'family' and to Nana's death. And you can never make that better.
I can't go back and do the right thing - I can't go back and call the cops when I should've or actually send that letter to the lawyer the way I wanted to, and that will always haunt me. But you can't go back either, you can't undue the harm you did, the hurt you've caused, and I can't let you leave this house without letting you know that I hope it haunts you. Because it should."
It's probably good that I can't climb the stairs, because even as I was thinking about how great it would be to deliver this truth to her in person, I didn't, for a second, imagine that she would just sit there and let me say all of that to her. And that would've pissed me off even more, and things would most likely have escalated. (Although, seriously? Giving her the chance to punch me might have been worth any increase in pain because you know I would've called the cops then, friends.)
And by the time she plodded her way back down the stairs, I had calmed down enough to return to my Harry Potter and plot about how to 'accidentally' aim a Cruciatus Curse at them all instead, but the wanting is still there. Because I know that they still think they didn't do anything wrong.
That they will never think they did anything wrong - that they were the victims of a family that turned their backs on them, as opposed to the perpetrators that caused a family to be shattered.
And that's not okay with me. But I'm just going to have to let it go.
So, even though we still don't know where we'll be, I am definitely looking forward to thirty days from today, when I won't have to see them again. Or hear their false voices again, or suffer under their hands ever again.
And then? I shall have to settle for the Obliteration Charm instead, wiping them from my life once and for all.
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