Eleanor: Why did I do it? Why not? Do I have to have a reason to do anything? Why can't something just be undefined? Does there always have to be a reason? Haven’t you ever just felt like doing something insane… for no reason at all? (Pause) Of course not ... you’ve never made a mistake in your life, have you? It makes you so mad doesn’t it? That people like me, who are reckless and do things for no reason, are the ones that are happy. And the ones like you, who keep to the book and find the need to define every aspect of their life, are the ones that are miserable. I mean really. What does it mean to do anything? Just because I might run out in the middle of Main Street and sing Beatle lyrics at the top of my lungs doesn’t mean that I’m insane or crazy, free spirited or fun loving.
Tessa: Why can’t you just be normal Elle?
Eleanor: Normal?! You want me to be normal? Define normal Tessa. (Pause) You can’t do it can you? Does it mean (reciting like a robot) conforming with or constituting a norm, standard, level, or type; being approximately average or within certain limits; in accordance with scientific laws. Which is it? Normal. It’s just a word. You think I’m abnormal just because I do what I feel. Well some things can’t be explained or expressed through a dictionary. Some feelings are, just, indescribable. Like your mother getting engaged not but a year after the death of your father. How would you describe that? It’s not anger: a strong feeling of displeasure and belligerence aroused by a wrong. Nor is it Sadness: the quality of excessive mournfulness and uncheerfulness. It’s something that simply can’t be put into words. It’s a feeling that rips your heart apart because she’s moving on but yet still keeps it together because she’s finally happy. (Snapping back to the conversation) You want to know why I did it? How about you ask yourself that question Tess.
Tessa: What are you talking about Elle?
Eleanor: (Blowing over her comment) well maybe I did it because (Starts listing slowly then gradually speeds up) I’m a slut, a dreamer, a wisher, a lover, an artist, a humanitarian, a comedian. Because I’m compassionate, caring, callous, heartless, benevolent, random, strange, abnormal, normal, unique, punk, Goth, prep, skater, geek, black, white, Hispanic, Asian, intelligent, intellectual, dim, dumb, elegant, graceful, clumsy, dull, interesting... I’m all of these things and so much more. But yet I’m none of these things and so much less... Some things you just can’t describe. I'm what ever you want me to be... But I live with out words. I don’t need to explain myself to you and if you’re going to make me be something that I’m not, if you’re going to make me explain my feelings or my thoughts then I’ll take away the one word that ever really meant anything to me in accordance to you. I’ll take away your definition. Sister: A girl or woman who shares a common ancestry, allegiance, character, or purpose with another. You can’t make me be something that I’m not, someone that’s full of words. And I’m not going to explain anything to you. Because anything that can possibly come out of my mouth would just be words. Meaningless, insignificant words.
Friday, April 24, 2009
The End of a Legacy
Harry Potter. Wow, that’s a loaded name. The boy who lived ... The Chosen one ...You may think I’m an extreme geek devoting a whole entry to Harry Potter, but there is so much meaning behind those books for me. They’re much more then entertainment. They are memories. They are my childhood. They were a link between my mother and I. Harry Potter is something that will always remain in my heart.
It's been twelve years, twelve whole years since I first heard that name. July 1997 – I was six years old. Six. I remember getting the book as a present from my aunt whom had read it and wanted to pass it on to me. I tried to read it but I was only in first grade. I couldn't really understand it. Some of the names confused me- Albus Dumbledore, Lord Voldemort, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor – some of the words were dangerously big. I wasn't really ready to read it on my own. So I brought the curious object up to my mother. I asked her if she would read it to me. That was the last night I remember not loving that boy's name.She sat down with me on the couch that same night and read me the first chapter and the First chapter only, "The Boy Who Lived." Each night we read one chapter until we had finished. In seventeen days (give or take a few days for nights we were unable to read) we had both completely fallen in love with a scrawny, black-haired, bespectacled boy named Harry Potter. We continued this tradition even after I was old enough to read them for myself. We waited for the second one to come out - when it did we spent one night for each chapter. Then we waited for the third, the fourth...We did that for all of them. The Sorcerer's Stone, The Chamber of Secrets, The Prisoner of Azkaban, The Goblet of Fire, The Order of the Phoenix, and The Half Blood Prince. We read one chapter each night. The stories only got better as they came out. I was completely obsessed. I dedicated at least 3 of my elementary school birthdays to the theme of Harry Potter... we even played Quidditch at one of them!!! I got Harry Potter Presents for my birthday and for Christmas- My prized possession was a Quidditch Jersey that said "Potter- 56", I had everything – straight down to Harry Potter Legos... (Yes legos... I have the Hogwarts express on my bookshelf right now!) But the most amazing of all was the Hogwarts robe that my mother had made for me to wear as Hermione for Halloween once … or twice.
When the movies came out my mother and I were the first ones to buy tickets to see them. We saw the first four together; that’s all we had time for. Harry was our thing.
Harry Potter occupied twelve years of my childhood, it introduced me to a world of imagination, it introduced me to many friends that I have right now, it was that ever lasting connection between me and my mom, it was entertainment, it was hopes, it was dreams, it was everything and beyond. So it came as no shock to me when I cried over the seventh and last installment to the series. I found it very hard to keep my emotions in check even before I read the book, for two main reasons... one: I knew this was the last book and two: because my mom wasn't there to read it with me. I read this book outside. I read every page sitting right next to my mother's memorial garden. I figured she spent twelve years reading to me... I should read to her just this once. It took me four days to read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows. Not the usual thirty-six days it would have taken if I read one chapter at a time... but I just couldn't wait.
Now, I don’t know how many years later it's over... it's all over. No more Harry Potter adventures. No more evenings on the couch with my mother. No more. I don't know whether I should be happy that those books brought all those things to me or if I should be sad because it's all over.
How do you describe the ending of a story? How do you express your feelings toward an adventure and legacy that have lasted years? It's so hard to express my feelings right now. For the first time that I can remember- I don't know how I feel. I'm neither happy nor sad... I’m both. I'm neither angry or calm... I’m both. It's so weird.
But really all I can say to end this is: thank you JK Rowling. You have no idea, what you have done to help a young girl from little old Maryland. You’ve given me imagination. You've given me hopes and dreams. You've made me cry, you've made me laugh, and you've made adrenalin shoot through my veins. You opened a world to me that I never thought possible. Thank you.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's note
I don't care if you like Harry Potter or not. That's not what this peice is about. So if you want to be an idiot and make stupid comments about how gay Harry Potter is, you go ahead and show the world how completely obtuse you are. If you want to make stupid comments about my mother go ahead because I know what a wonderful person she was, and one day when you loose someone you love too maybe then you'll finally understand a morsel of what i've had to deal with over the last three years.
It's been twelve years, twelve whole years since I first heard that name. July 1997 – I was six years old. Six. I remember getting the book as a present from my aunt whom had read it and wanted to pass it on to me. I tried to read it but I was only in first grade. I couldn't really understand it. Some of the names confused me- Albus Dumbledore, Lord Voldemort, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor – some of the words were dangerously big. I wasn't really ready to read it on my own. So I brought the curious object up to my mother. I asked her if she would read it to me. That was the last night I remember not loving that boy's name.She sat down with me on the couch that same night and read me the first chapter and the First chapter only, "The Boy Who Lived." Each night we read one chapter until we had finished. In seventeen days (give or take a few days for nights we were unable to read) we had both completely fallen in love with a scrawny, black-haired, bespectacled boy named Harry Potter. We continued this tradition even after I was old enough to read them for myself. We waited for the second one to come out - when it did we spent one night for each chapter. Then we waited for the third, the fourth...We did that for all of them. The Sorcerer's Stone, The Chamber of Secrets, The Prisoner of Azkaban, The Goblet of Fire, The Order of the Phoenix, and The Half Blood Prince. We read one chapter each night. The stories only got better as they came out. I was completely obsessed. I dedicated at least 3 of my elementary school birthdays to the theme of Harry Potter... we even played Quidditch at one of them!!! I got Harry Potter Presents for my birthday and for Christmas- My prized possession was a Quidditch Jersey that said "Potter- 56", I had everything – straight down to Harry Potter Legos... (Yes legos... I have the Hogwarts express on my bookshelf right now!) But the most amazing of all was the Hogwarts robe that my mother had made for me to wear as Hermione for Halloween once … or twice.
When the movies came out my mother and I were the first ones to buy tickets to see them. We saw the first four together; that’s all we had time for. Harry was our thing.
Harry Potter occupied twelve years of my childhood, it introduced me to a world of imagination, it introduced me to many friends that I have right now, it was that ever lasting connection between me and my mom, it was entertainment, it was hopes, it was dreams, it was everything and beyond. So it came as no shock to me when I cried over the seventh and last installment to the series. I found it very hard to keep my emotions in check even before I read the book, for two main reasons... one: I knew this was the last book and two: because my mom wasn't there to read it with me. I read this book outside. I read every page sitting right next to my mother's memorial garden. I figured she spent twelve years reading to me... I should read to her just this once. It took me four days to read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows. Not the usual thirty-six days it would have taken if I read one chapter at a time... but I just couldn't wait.
Now, I don’t know how many years later it's over... it's all over. No more Harry Potter adventures. No more evenings on the couch with my mother. No more. I don't know whether I should be happy that those books brought all those things to me or if I should be sad because it's all over.
How do you describe the ending of a story? How do you express your feelings toward an adventure and legacy that have lasted years? It's so hard to express my feelings right now. For the first time that I can remember- I don't know how I feel. I'm neither happy nor sad... I’m both. I'm neither angry or calm... I’m both. It's so weird.
But really all I can say to end this is: thank you JK Rowling. You have no idea, what you have done to help a young girl from little old Maryland. You’ve given me imagination. You've given me hopes and dreams. You've made me cry, you've made me laugh, and you've made adrenalin shoot through my veins. You opened a world to me that I never thought possible. Thank you.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's note
I don't care if you like Harry Potter or not. That's not what this peice is about. So if you want to be an idiot and make stupid comments about how gay Harry Potter is, you go ahead and show the world how completely obtuse you are. If you want to make stupid comments about my mother go ahead because I know what a wonderful person she was, and one day when you loose someone you love too maybe then you'll finally understand a morsel of what i've had to deal with over the last three years.
Fly
I want to fly up into the sky,
To tie a balloon to my waist and
Watch the ground shrink as I smoothly lift into the air.
It’s freedom –
To be in the openness;
With no boundaries or constrictions.
My shoulders would stretch
To an eloquent point.
The balloon would pop but I’d still be afloat.
Like a bird –
I’d fly and fly
With no regulations or petitions.
Fly, fly flittering bird,
I shall join you soon.
Look out for me in the deep blue sky.
One day –
I will fly with you away, away;
I will pass all that’s gone and seize the day.
To tie a balloon to my waist and
Watch the ground shrink as I smoothly lift into the air.
It’s freedom –
To be in the openness;
With no boundaries or constrictions.
My shoulders would stretch
To an eloquent point.
The balloon would pop but I’d still be afloat.
Like a bird –
I’d fly and fly
With no regulations or petitions.
Fly, fly flittering bird,
I shall join you soon.
Look out for me in the deep blue sky.
One day –
I will fly with you away, away;
I will pass all that’s gone and seize the day.
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