Neville Longbottom

I am writing this for two reasons. 

Reason number one being that I am avoiding purchasing any books on my Kindle. I have been the owner of an Amazon Kindle for four days, and I can already see that this is going to be a problem. I feel like my love of reading has be re-rejuvinated (for about the hundredth time in my life), and all I want to do is get lost in book after book. The only problem is that books cost money, and money does not grow on trees--neither do ebooks.

The second reason for this post: the end of an era induced depression. What era is this, you might ask? It is the era of wondering if the Dursley’s would ever believe that the snake breaking free was an accident. The era of knowing that Hagrid had to be innocent of the awful accusations, but having no way to prove it. The era of craving revenge on Sirius Black for failing to be a trustworthy Secret Keeper, only to discover that the Potters were betrayed by a different man. The era of wondering just who could have put that name into the Goblet of Fire, and watching You Know Who rise to power once more. The era of secret armies named for the greatest wizard of all time. The era of perfectly orchestrated secrets and lies. The era of ending the war, once and for all. I am talking about the era of Harry Potter.

I truly don’t know what I am going to do at 2:30 Friday morning when I leave the theatre after seeing a new Harry Potter movie for the first time- for the last time. I know I might sound crazy, but I know I am not the only person in this world whose life has not been impacted by The Boy Who Lived. Take these people:

Apparently they are worried about getting a good seat.

Harry Potter is magical for many reasons: JK’s brilliance at creating such a thorough world full of deep characters, the incredible adventures that come with beginning each chapter, the hours of endless discussion and theories that happen between HP fanatics, the costumes at the premiers, and the camaraderie that occurs when two people discover their mutual love for Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Fred, George, Sirius, Remus, Molly, Dumbledore, and, yes, even Severus.

Most of all, Harry Potter is magical because no where else could we have watched a chubby little boy transform from this

to this

Summer of Dreams

Growing up I always wanted a dog. As hard as it may be to believe, I never had one. There were, however, a few significant dogs in my life.

Lacy- My babysitter’s poodle. I wasn’t a big fan of Lacy.

Cocoa- Nicole’s Pomeranian. She was such a sweet dog. I really loved her.

Emma- Morgan’s HUGE dog. I don’t know what she is, but she and I never had a very solid relationship.

Shannon- Morgan's cat. I know this post is about dogs, but Shannon is the one and only cat I have ever loved. Shannon         is, in fact, a boy and he was named after Shannon Miller, the gymnast. Every time I see the Shannon Miller statue in Edmond, I think of cat Shannon.

Growing up in a small town, the ice cream truck was always the stuff of legends and lore, never actually making an appearance in my simple life. I can remember being at my grandma's in the south side of OKC and getting excited because I was actually getting to buy ice cream from the ice cream truck. I don't remember what it was, but if I had to guess, I would say it was an Orange Push Pop or an Ice Cream Sandwich.

Owning a dog and chasing the ice cream truck are two dreams I have carried with me through much of my life..... Until NOW!!

Setting:          Summer 2011

Scene:           The house with the Cupboard Under the Stairs

Characters:   Lauren, Lacey, Cara, and I

Lauren, as we all know, has a heart for animals. Three days ago, she adopted a puppy named Maddi, short for Madeline. Little did she know that she just made my life! Even though Maddi is not technically mine, I feel like the kid who just came home to her first ever furry pet--- because I did. I am at the point where I have to stop myself from texting Lauren/tweeting about every cute expression she makes or every funny thing she does. I am obsessed.

Two days later, I am upstairs taking a nap before we start cooking for our roommate bonding night when I hear Cara screaming about ice cream and the front door flying open. I quickly ran down the stairs and on to the front porch where the rest of my college age roommates were waiting impatiently for the ice cream man to make it around the block. When I heard the legendary song of the ice cream truck, I too started screaming and running frantically. I got Cookies and Cream. 

The best part about this whole scene was that our ice cream truck inspired behavior could not be separated from the (approximately) 7 year olds' behavior down the street.

Needless to say, this summer has become the summer of dreams for me. I cannot wait to see what it has left in store!

Finals.

Finals have officially drained me of every nearly emotion. I cannot remember a time where I felt more tired, more annoyed, and more worried about making a decent grade on a final. That being said, there will always be things in my life that I am thankful for.

1. My boyfriend who loves me (although I will never be able to understand why he does)
2. This macbook. I spent A LOT of mulah on it, but its superiority is worth every penny.
3. Mountain Dew.
4. JK Rowling.... However, I cannot even think about how I will feel on July 15 when I officially have no new Harry Potter events to look forward to -------> Except the THEME PARK!
5. The fact that everyone (except one lone Slytherin)  just accepts it when I sort them into a Hogwarts House. No one even argues that I am the Sorting Hat.
6. How easy it is to make lists on a word processor. I love lists.
7. The clean home in which my mother raised me.
8. My hummingbird Patronus. Maybe I should conjure one up...
9. Expectation-free friendships. They truly mean everything to me.
10. The $3.00 I got for the $400.00 I spent at the beginning of the semester on my textbooks.
11. Having a cute nephew. I just couldn’t handle it if my brother had an ugly baby.
12. Some other stuff.
13. Knowing that writing this somewhat-anonymous blog will relieve some stress and make me feel ten times better.

I think ending on Lucky 13 is an excellent idea.

Happy Cinco de Mayo, cyberworld!

(jewish) mother knows best

Thanks to my mom, I grew up in the typical Jewish household. We were God’s chosen people. Passover dinners. Menorahs decorating the holiday season. Enjoying a game or two of spin the dreidel. A heaping helping of guilt over the boyfriends I secretly had in elementary school (Oy vey, Ma, don’t worry I didn’t grow up to be a tramp like the girls down the street who played with the Ken dolls). The only issue with this scenario-we’re not actually Jewish... for now.

My mother has always had an inexplicable love for the Sons of Israel. In fact, to humor her, I  also frequently make reference to our “Jewish” heritage. When in doubt for a Christmas or birthday gift, simply find an obscure piece of yiddish literature. Works every time, I’m telling ya. As for where her infatuation began, I could not tell you. All I know is that for my entire life I have known more about Passover, matzo bread, Menorahs, Hanukkah, the Torah, the Holocaust, Corrie Ten Boom, Tradition (Tradition!), the rise and fall of Israel through the centuries, modern Jews running the world (you would be surprised, they really are everywhere), and general Jewish heritage and culture than your average Gentile. 

It would be unfair to mention my mom’s Jewish ancestry (we have our fingers crossed that one day we will find out our ancestors come from at least one of the Twelve Tribes), without bringing up the many facets of my father’s... awkward.. life. Considering the man was born in 1949, his loves includes the ancient game of tiddly-winks and marbles. Let’s not get him started about his endless collection of tiny glass balls that are allegedly in high demand. I could honestly write for days about the odd habits my father has taken on, luckily for you, I won’t.

Moving on down the line, we reach my brother, Garret. Garret, like any male who grew up in the 1980s, loves Legos and graphic novels (Both of which, I am sure were invented by Jews. I am not sure so I will have to do some research). Loves comic books so much he wrote a 176 page thesis over graphic novels and how they are parallel to, well, something. Either way, it signifies a strong, unending love.

My own obsessions are quite the opposite of few and far between. I am an undeniably Type A personality. My closet is color coordinated. My underwear are ALWAYS perfectly folded and sorted. I make my bed every day. I can’t listen to music or the TV above a certain volume or it makes my ears hurt (I have sensitive ears, okay?). If I don’t follow my exact shower routine every night, I forget what I have and have not washed. I avoid eye contact with birds of any kind (especially Broncho Lake Geese, because I fully believe they are out to kill me). I check my Twitter every morning while I am eating my breakfast cereal. I can only take notes and write checks in blue ink. The one exception to my rigid lifestyle? I refuse to wear a matching pair of socks. Life, after all, is too short to get caught up in the worrying about all of the minute details.