Charlie Brown, you get me.

Whew. I finally feel like a human being after feeling like less than one for a while. A lot of his has to do with getting an extension on one of my finals, which really balanced my work out a lot more than it was before. Also, I kicked ass on my presentation for one of my classes. It was on Northern Ireland's peace lines. I'm getting really fascinated with that conflict, probably because it seems like no one in the US really talks about it. Most of the books I've found on the subject are from the UK or Ireland, and you don't see anyone throwing benefit concerts here for Ulster or making "Save Belfast" t-shirts. I still wonder why that is.

Anyways, I'm surviving finals with the help of coffee and peppy music. I'm loving Girl Talk's new album and my Ting Tings radio station. Also, I have an appropriate finals week desktop background:
Charlie Brown, you get me.

Whiplash

Thanksgiving break is basically over. I have to be on a train back to my second home in about ten hours, and it feels like just yesterday I was getting off that damn thing. I had plans to get everything done while I was here. I was going to do work on my big bed, see Harry Potter with the family again, maybe see some friends, run all my errands like a boss, and generally feel on top of shit.

But I spent it watching Youtube, getting into fights with the family members I live with, crying about said fights and also about dead pets (Our parakeet died and left the other one without a buddy, and I'm still torn up about my darling Penny) and eating way too much food. Well maybe that last one isn't so bad. But I got no work done and I'm just exhausted. Emotionally and physically. I don't feel like me vs. finals will be a fair match. But maybe I'll pull a miracle out from somewhere. I do have four hours on a train tomorrow. Those will hopefully be cozy and productive. I'll try and nab a seat by the window so I can see what the world looks like from Stamford to Amherst. That would be nice.

Why I am raising my future offspring on Harry Potter

In three hours, I'll be sitting in a movie theater with popcorn and caffeine in hand, having heart palpitations as the lights dim and the first installment of Deathly Hallows begins. The beginning to the end of an era.

I've been a Harry Potter fan since I was about ten years old. So basically for half my life. My mom and I used to take turns reading pages of The Sorcerer's Stone, which started out slow but ended up being something neither of us could put down no matter how long past my bedtime it was getting. Even at that young an age, I knew how special this book was. Beneath all the fantasy and magic (which was fantastic as well) there was something undeniably real. These kids had real problems and personalities. I thought they were a lot like me and I was honestly a little bit surprised and devastated when I didn't get a Hogwarts letter delivered to my house.

Harry Potter and I grew up together, in a way. As I got older, so did the books. Harry and Ron got into fights about things just like my friends and I did. I had teachers who didn't like me just like Professor Snape had it out for all the Gryffindors. On days when I fought with my parents, I prayed that the Weasleys would adopt me into their house and Molly would knit me a sweater with an "L" on it. As I applied to colleges in junior year, I felt pangs of sadness because I knew, no matter how much I wanted it to be real, Hogwarts would never exist in the world I lived in and I couldn't just delete my Common App account and go there to double major in Charms and Divination and minor in flirting with attractive wizard boys.

I love that Harry Potter exists in this world and is such a major part of culture. I think a lot of fantasy books geared towards young people today tend to be either wildly unbelievable or just poorly written (I'm looking at you, Stephanie Meyer. But I'll save my Twilight rant for another blog post.) Harry Potter books are neither of those things. The characters are so developed and the world they live in so intricately detailed that you'd believe it was nonfiction. This is probably why all the deaths have hit me so hard. I was legitimately depressed for a long time after she killed Fred in book 7 (This may have also had something to do with my literary crush on him.)

Now we get to the part where I address the title of this post. Yes, I am saving my Harry Potter books so I can read them with my kids. I plan to start when they're eleven and keep going until they're seventeen, just like those little chaps at Hogwarts. I want my kids to know things that these books talk about. Like how you can be happy without having a lot of money (If I make a living from writing books, they're going to have to learn this for sure), how when people die, they can't ever come back but you can still keep them in your memory, how you don't have to go into dark rooms by yourself to be brave (Looking at you, Neville Longbottom.) If I have a daughter, I want her to know that like Hermione Granger, you can be smart and pretty at the same time and as long as you just be yourself the guy of your dreams will eventually come around.

I'm getting a bit sentimental, I know. But these books mean a lot to me, and I've got them on the brain now because I'm going to my first Harry Potter midnight showing tonight. It'll be an excellent night and I can't even stand how excited I am right now. But I'll probably have to look away when Hedwig dies, because that is going to make me cry hard.

The perks of staying in.

That's me, stumbling around with a case of the giggles. Just another Thursday night at 51, thank goodness. Sometimes, living here is more than alright.

I didn't realize until this year that when you go out and try to find a decent party to crash, you miss things like a rerun of Hugh Jackman hosting SNL with musical guest Mick Jagger. Heaven on earth, people.

OH MY GOD THE JARRET'S ROOM SKETCH IS STARTING. It's supposed to take place at Hampshire, you know? After ignoring a few factual details, I realized that Horatio Sanz's character looks like every single lovable stoner here. So basically everyone here.

In other Hampshire-y news, one of my professors played a video montage of World War One doctor W.H.R. Rivers set to that Sarah McLachlan song from the ASPCA ads that I always have to change the channel during. Yup. My professor is a fangirl for a World War One doctor, and so I had to sit through a montage of pictures and video clips from the biopic set to a song that usually accompanies sick kittens. I have a Pavlovian response to it. It makes me reach for a remote. But there was no remote. So I just had to sit uncomfortably while stifling a case of inappropriate giggles. You can't make this shit up. Even if you're a creative writing concentrator.

Payday

That's right folks. A- on my first graded paper since high school. I forgot what it's like to get grades, because my college doesn't give them. But thanks to the Five College Consortium that makes Western Mass such an academic paradise, I've remembered what it's like to skim the professor's comments while holding your breath until you see that letter. I like getting written evals, but sometimes it's nice to see everything all wrapped up in one character.

Also, I'm getting my paycheck today! Thanks, Phonathon. You kicked my ass this semester and now I'm gonna get what I deserve. That being mixers for the party my house is throwing tonight. It's kind of a preshow for the Hampshire Halloween debauchery that will take place later on. We plan on playing games and sipping neon colored drinks (New Amsterdam Gin and Mountain Dew for me) in addition to making jokes and showing off our costumes. I have a pretty killer one. There will be pictures soon. But here's the general idea:

There will be a blonde wig and possibly some hot ham water. No word on whether or not I'll find someone dressed as Tobias to take pictures with. But I did a test run last night and it all looks pretty good. Here's to another Hampshire Halloween.

Mismatched socks

I've been a most neglectful blog owner. Things have gotten overwhelming and sometimes when that happens I just want to let them happen and pass instead of writing about them. I've had a lot of work and my house is a mess and it's been hard to just find time to sit and be. I couldn't even find matching socks this morning.

I'm taking this blustery Friday off to get pumpkin milkshakes in town and go to a glowstick party tonight. Hopefully autumnal treats and neon booty shaking will be just what the doctor ordered, because I'm feeling a little less than on top of my game right now. I wish I could make this blog entry longer, but I'm groggy and I just want things to slow down.

Boston and Nostalgia.

I have an absurd amount of things to look forward to. Also a lot of work, but I figure that'll get done some way or another. I got up a little earlier than expected this morning, so I'm listening to Regina Spektor and blogging until I decide to get on with the day. I've got last-minute shopping, a meeting with a professor about serving on my Divison 2 committee, and packing. I'm escaping to Boston in the early evening, and I couldn't be more excited. I've talked a lot about my love for New York City before, and I do love it, but my love for Boston is a different kind of love.

I did a lot of my growing up in Wellesley, Mass. It's about 40 or so minutes outside of Boston, so I spent a lot of time there as a kid. The penguins at the Aquarium were some of my closest friends, I knew how to expertly navigate the Museum of Science and The Children's Museum, and Christmastime meant The Nutcracker at The Wang Theater. Boston is always served with a heavy dose of nostalgia for me. I can't walk past The Four Seasons without remembering the time my parents took me to The Bristol Lounge and I went straight for the dish of M&Ms. If cities were boyfriends, Boston would be the one that got away. We'll always have something, even if I've got a good thing going with New York now. Every time Ben Affleck makes a movie about Boston, my heart swells a little because my lovely little city is in a big time movie. Even if said movies are always about kidnappings or bank robberies.

As much as I love the home I've made for myself at Hampshire in the month I've been here, I think seeing another place will be good. I'm staying with a good friend from high school who always makes me laugh and always gets where I'm coming from, and my dad and sister are driving up from New York to see me as well. I love it when paths cross, even if someone is meaning to cross them.