Young Adult Debauchery

I originally was not a fan. I couldn’t get past the first chapter. And so I let it be, lifting my nose up to all the other “silly” children who read books that I considered dull. But then… My father read it to my brother, and I started listening in. I was hooked. I “borrowed” the copy and read it through to the end by myself. I remember sheepishly admitting to my father how much I enjoyed it.

From that moment on, Harry was a beloved part of my life. By the time I read Sorcerer’s Stone, Chamber of Secrets, Prisoner of Azkaban, and Goblet of Fire were all already out, and I was gifted them at different times. I consumed each novel in less than a week. Not only was I a fast reader to begin with, but I loved them. I needed to know what happened next, I needed to hear what Harry had to do, what Dumbledore needed to tell us. My desire to know the happenings of the wizarding world was unyielding.

I was eleven when Order of The Phoenix came out. That book was an escape from a miserable summer. I was leaving my home I loved and moving 3,000 miles away. Harry was there, on the long car ride and when I reached my lonely new home.

I got both Half Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows at midnight releases. When we got our copies of Deathly Hallows, my best friend and I sobbed and my younger cousin asked, “Why are you crying?” I answered, “Because he’s been such a big part of our life. Harry Potter is our childhood. We don’t want it to end, but we need to finish his story.”

I love Harry Potter because we grew up together. I watched him mature through eyes that were growing up as well. I loved the characters, the stories, and especially the little details you catch when you re-read the books. As an English major, I could spout to you all the literary merits of the text. But I won’t because Harry is more than that. To his fans, he means something different to every one of us. But he and his universe are a beautiful escape, an immersing world, and a fascinating story.

I love Harry Potter because Harry is noble, Ron is funny, and Hermione is clever, but they are all flawed. Each character is real. They cry and sin, rejoice and love, and they grow. They grew as I grew, and I loved being able to take that journey with them.

I love Harry Potter for a thousand reasons I’ll never be able to put into words. All I can say is that if you’re a fan, you understand. And if you’re not, you’re missing out.

I remember reading Chamber of Secrets while at the Kennedy Center, bored of Handel’s Messiah. I remember reading Half Blood Prince while sitting in the back of my grandfather’s pick up truck because I had to finish. I remember finishing Sorcerer’s Stone for the first time and smiling to myself because I had enjoyed it so much against my will.

So thank you, Harry. Thank you for letting me into your world. Thank you for showing my best friend and countless others how to love reading. Thank you for being such a wonderful part of my childhood, and thank you for the role I know you will play in my future.

For, as Dumbledore so aptly put it, “I shall never truly be gone unless none here are loyal to me.”

I will always be loyal.

Things I broke while I was in Australia:

1. I spilled all the silverware while trying to find a spoon. We had to pick up every single piece.
2. Later that day, while again trying to find a spoon, I broke the drawer that held all the silverware. Australia Girl just looked at me and sighed. We tried to fix it with wood glue, but it’s likely that the drawer will break again. 
3. The dog crate. Which she had bought earlier that week. I stepped on the clasp and it snapped.
4. Her dog. Australia Girl went to work, came back four hours later, and Vertigo was feeling sickly. After spending four hours only with me.

Australia is still recovering from Cyclone Yazzy, which is like a hurricane, but it spins the other way (does that make sense? I’m not a good explainer.). My theory is that, like earthquakes, cyclones have aftershocks. Clearly, I was that aftershock, as I did more damage to Jacinta’s house than the cyclone did.

I’m not just a walking disaster anymore, Internets. I’m a natural disaster!

It feels like I’m rising up in the world.

I’m still not in a terribly funny mood these days. The last week has been… awful, actually. And I can’t quite figure out how to be funny again. 

But it’s time to move on, or at least try to move on. Luckily, I am in a BLOGGING sort of mood, so here is my promise to you: dear readers of the Internet. I will try to post something every day. I’m not sure if it will be funny, meaningful, or even decent writing, but I will post every day.

I owe it to you. And I owe it to myself. Because I need some outlet for escaping the shittiness that has come over me and if I want to write, then I need to improve. The easiest way to do that is to write every day.

So here we do, darling Internets. I’m glad you’re here with me. 

Internets, everyone who is cool has a Tumblr. Which is mainly why I got one, because I was hoping that Tumblr made you cool. However, I’ve since realized that cool people flock to Tumblr, Tumblr does not in fact make people cool. I’m totally not in the right company here. I’m kind of the opposite of cool.

Anyway, I’ve been posting here for several months now, and I still don’t understand the website. Searching for topics I’m interested in is difficult. And I don’t know how to get my posts out there into the blogosphere. I was super pleased when several of my posts got hearted, but now those have gone away? Like I said, I’m not quite sure I understand this place. 

I suppose this is punishment for being obsessed with paper dolls when I was a little girl. The universe is telling me that my coolness is very very low.

But I love you! And you all seem to have a great grasp on how to use The Tumblr. So, dear Internets. Got any advice for me? 

Besides telling me to run away to the Land of Uncool. I was already planning on doing that. 

Advice, please?

I do love you, I swear. But I’m not in a funny blogging sort of mood, and for that I apologize. Last week I got back from a long trip to Australia which was, in a word, incredible. But since I’ve gotten home it’s been one disaster after another.

Clue to where I live: Elusive as I am, Internets, I cannot hide entirely. If you are very determined to find me, you can, and I’m sure quite easily. My town was recently subjected to some natural disasters. Everyone and everything in the town is safe, but coming home to an evacuated town, worried sick about friends and places was not fun. Reason #1 why I am not up for funny blogging.

Reason #2: I don’t want to bore you with totally unfunny teenage drama, but needless to say, I am a teenager and sometimes “THE WORLD IS ENDING” shit happens. And right now is one of those times. I need time to think. And I especially need time to be there for my best friend, Australia Girl. This is just a difficult time, and I appreciate your understanding.

But! I will give you presents! If you can’t get funny from me, the least I can do is give you funny from other places.

This Post is About Giant Metal Chickens- This may be my favorite post by The Bloggess. But she’s also one of the first bloggers I ever read and I love her to pieces. You should too!

Oh Noa - Noa Gavin is a recent discovery. But I think she’s fucking hilarious. Read her and tell her to post more!

Awful Library Books - Speaks for itself.

Grocery stores are confusing. My family is out of town for a week which means that I am left with the very adult task of shopping and cooking and cleaning and such. I’m all grown up!

There are dishes still on my kitchen counter, I burned pizza last night, and I’ve thrown clothes on the floor and left them there. My parents have only been gone for two days. Clearly, this adult thing is not for me. Care to join me in NeverNeverLand (Where Peter Pan lives, NOT Michael Jackson’s family)?

Anyway, normally I don’t go to the grocery store that often. And when I do, it’s generally for things I’ve found a million times before, and I STILL get lost on a regular basis. I end up wandering back and forth past the aisles trying to find taco shells or whatever, and all the other customers laugh at my confusion. This confusion has been amplified in light of having to cook for myself every night this week and I refuse to eat Ramen 3 times a day. No sir, Internets, tonight I’m making enchiladas!

I’m getting off track again. These questions run through my head over and over while I’m shopping:

Where the fuck are the corn tortillas? Are they bread products? Isn’t this the aisle for salsa? FUCK, this is NOT the salsa aisle. Oh! Muffins! Yummmmm. Is this the right peanut sauce that my boss asked for? Is that bottle peanut sauce? Is that bottle peanut sauce? Guess this will have to work. Fuck, she’ll be mad if I get it wrong. Okay, YOU STILL HAVE NOT FOUND THE CORN TORTILLAS. This is the third time you’ve walked past this aisle, and that same old lady is still standing there! Everyone is totally judging you.

In my head, grocery store means being confused and everyone else in the world has gone to some grocery shopping seminar that I must have missed because I was too busy sleeping. And those people who took the seminar look at me in all my incompetence and laugh laugh laugh when I walk by, peering down the aisle for the fourth time. Hell, I’D laugh at me (and I do. All the time).

Darling Internets, I think I should stay a child forever and have servants do all of my shopping. Easy peasy. Even I know how to do THAT.

Internets! I’ve basically forgotten you existed. I sincerely apologize. First there was finals. Then there was BEING HOME! in all its wonderfulness. And then, once I went back to work, my laziness decided to kick itself up about three levels which is funny because my laziness had motivation to become MORE. Is this a paradox? I think so.

Anyways, this is what I’ve been up to the past few weeks.

I managed to pack one steamer trunk, two suitcases, three enormous Tupperware containers, one medium Tupperware container, and about a thousand grocery bags into the back of my father’s Suburban. By some Harry Potter-like magic, it all fit, WITH ROOM FOR ME, MY BROTHER, AND MY FATHER. Magic, I tell you, magic.

I discovered there is such a thing called a “hummingbird moth,” which is basically exactly what it sounds like : A MUTANT MOTH HUMMINGBIRD THING. When I discovered this beast, I became concerned because if birds and insects are mating, then bad things are sure to come. Like ginormous bees with bird wings and equally large stingers. I am convinced that if we allow birds and insects to mate, it will be the end of the world as we know it. Is this racist talk? I hope not. Anyway, when I expressed said concern to Almost Boyfriend, he laughed at me and then told me to stop being a baby. I hope the giant bird bees attack him first.

There is a game on my Kindle (which my parents inexplicably gifted to me) called WordThread that is the most addicting game ever. It involves making words, and since I got an 800 on the Critical Reading section of the SAT, I was under the impression that I had a decent vocabulary. Not so, Internets! WordThread has taught me lots of new words such as “tols,” and also taught me that strings of letters that I used to think were words, such as “canny,” are NOT words. I’m learning so much this summer!

My cousin in Phoenix graduated from high school this past weekend, and my entire family trekked out to see her walk across the stage. I am so terrified of my extended family that I spent a more than usual amount of time in the bathroom, hiding from them. I tweeted a lot from said bathroom. I’m a super freak, super freak, super freaky, Internets.

At said graduation, the first speech was given by a girl with the enthusiasm of a Slam Poet. Needless to say, I LOVED her. The second speech was given by a girl who cried, literally *cried* at the thought of leaving high school. In fact, her whole speech was about how scared she was of leaving high school and how she hated the thought of leaving. It made me want to dry heave. I feel bad for anyone who thinks high school is the best years of her life.

LOOK WHAT I FOUND, INTERNETS.

It’s a hobo doll. It was with my cousin’s Victorian dollhouse. I think this photo is better than Mustache Monday. In fact, hobo doll DOES have a mustache, so it totally counts.

I survived the rapture, Internets! If you’re reading this and you also survived the rapture, come to my house; Lady Brett Ashley’s Sweet Pad on Lady Brett Ashley’s Street in Lady Brett Ashley’s Town in USA. My parents are out of town and I think it’s as good a time as any for us to party together.

Much love to you all.

Internets! It’s finals week at my school. Which means blogging is a low priority. Instead I will be learning anthropology, rewriting essays I thought were fine to begin with, and wondering why Why WHY I have so many clothes. Seriously Internets, packing up my dorm room is making me very anxious.

But I have presents for you! For YOUR finals week, boring week, dinosaur ate my leg week, or really anything week.

These three sites are all run by the lovely Aunt Becky, an amazing lady who cares deeply about the power of blogging. I’d like to thank her for being full of awesome.

This is for when you want to laugh: mommywantsvodka.com

This is for when you are angry: mushroomprinting.com

And this is for when you are sad, need sympathy, or want to give sympathy: bandbacktogether.com Actually, BandBackTogether is just an amazing place to share anything. Full of love. 

Have a good Lady Brett Ashley’s Finals Week, and check out those sites!

I am currently still with Almost Boyfriend

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