And now for something completely different...

I'm really enjoying this Harry Potter blog stuff. It gives me an excuse to write what I like to talk about only with fewer annoying interruptions ;). To Dan I have only one word: delusional. If you would like to know the reference, read the Leaky/Mug interview with Jo that occurred the day after the book came out. You might be better off learning to like Ron and giving up your Harry/Hermione dreams. In fact, I think I'll do a blog on ships and why they have to work out in certain ways...hmm...how kind of Scholastic to give me that prompt for two blogs down the road!

In the mean time, I thought I would post up a bit of my better writing from England (in my opinion anyway) as a kind of explanation for what we did there and what I actually learned. My first essay is much more structured. After this first essay I was told to do nothing but stream of thought writing-something I enjoyed immensely. Read what you will-I'll post up my next Harry Potter question later tonight. Keep in mind of course, that all these essays are highly unfinished and, in some cases, not really meant for much else but my own computer. Comments are, of course, welcome.

Essay 1:

Living in the Impossible

I am sitting on a park bench outside Wordsworth’s grave. By now I have been in England for a week and many things I gawked over and thought quaint right after I arrived are now a little more normal. Driving on the left side of the road isn’t a novelty. Rhododendron bushes full of bold magenta and scarlet flowers are still beautiful, but not as exciting. I still take pictures of sheep, but not with quite so much enthusiasm as I did a few days ago. I’ve grown used to the sounds of new birds and the smell of dung that occasionally permeates through the romance of the Lake District, and I’ve started to think that I will never be going home. Six more weeks seems like an eternity, and imagining myself in Utah studying for finals seems like some kind of dream instead of the reality it was ten days ago. Haven’t I lived here forever like a flower child wandering the parks and mountains in search of a muse for my writing?

Grasmere is, on all accounts, the stereotypical Britain I imagined after years of watching BBC’s Keeping Up Appearances with my parents. The houses have flower boxes. The pubs are called things like “The Kings Head”. The roads are narrow, winding, and lined with stone walls. Nearly every house has a garden with a rhododendron bush growing in the yard. Men with plaid caps and women with shopping bags-it feels like the town that didn’t grow up because it’s frozen in time like a postcard. Just when I thought that Grasmere couldn’t become any more stereotypical, a little robin lands on my bench, just inches from my arm. He’s a small, curious little thing. I can see his heart beating underneath his crest of red and dirty brown feathers. He stays on the bench for a minute or so, preening for me a little, then hops down on the ground. I smile at his cheek, and open my bag to pull out my journal to write about him. By the time I have my pen uncapped, the robin is back, this time clutching breakfast in his beak – a bug with legs still twitching in pain. I congratulate my little bird friend on his success and he leaves again after a small nod. I date the page on my journal – “4 April 2007, Grasmere, Wordsworth’s Grave” and the robin is back again, bugless and watching me with as much curiosity as I have given him.

Lucy Maud Montgomery, the author of the Anne of Green Gables series, was once asked if Anne was a real character. In her journals she says that she hated to answer no to such a question, because she felt that if she did, she would turn around and see Anne staring at her because she felt so real. I feel the same way about the child that still lives in me somewhere. It is because of this that I slowly hold out my pointer and middle fingers for the robin to jump on if he chooses. I know he won’t, but I have to do it anyway. I grew up watching Mary Poppins sing duets with the red breasted robin at Jane and Michael’s window, and now I offer my company or risk feeling that I have let my child-like self down. When I was younger I would chase birds up and down the street, whistling and holding out my fingers, begging for them to land on my hand and give me a little more faith in magic. I do so now not for confirmation in magic, but because I half expect a scowl from a miniature version of me if I don’t. He doesn’t jump onto my fingers, but he doesn’t fly away this time either. I’ve intrigued him.

My little robin friend reminds me of another robin too. In the book The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgeson Burnett the snobbish Mary Lenox is charmed into civility in part through the friendship of a robin, who leads her to a key. The key unlocks a forbidden, half forgotten garden. I never had a secret garden or a robin for a friend, and I hope I was never as rude as Mary was, but I imagined myself into her shoes hundreds of times. I collected old keys and used to try and find the gate that they would open, even though most of the keys came from buildings that were long since torn down, or even across the ocean, since some of them had come from the grandfather of a friend of mine in South Africa. It wouldn’t stop me from trying. The older and more ornate the key was the better. I tried growing gardens too. Underneath the porch in the back yard of our home, I dug little holes and put seeds for carrots and peas in the ground to make them grow. I watched for weeks as the little shoots popped up out of the ground, but the poor plants were never destined for greatness. They didn’t reach anything past an inch out of the ground. I tried again with flower seeds. I tried again with little pellets of dirt I bought at the store where all you had to do was water them and you would have an instant garden, but I never met with success. Plants would see me and wither from fear.

It never mattered though. The withered plants made me sad for a while, and watching birds fly from me with fear did nothing for my ego, but the world I built in my head was better than any carrot root or a visit from a bird. In my imagination I could go anywhere and be anything I wanted. I could live in a world where anything was possible. I would fly to Neverland in my room and talk with hares over tea. I could be an Olympic gymnast or a renowned writer who made a difference in the world. I could be important. I could be something truly great.

It was seeing the robin hop around that reminded me of this feeling of infinite possibility. I remember my dream to fly both physically and metaphorically and mourn the loss of innocence that I experienced. It gave me logic and reason in place of imagination and dreams, and took away the belief I once had in myself and whether or not I will ever mean anything to anyone. Just as soon as I start to mourn the loss of my innocence I laugh at myself. Who am I kidding? I am still caught up in the world of innocence. I didn’t know what beer smelled like until I was eighteen. I am still naïve about many things most college students have known about for years. I am not simply caught up in that world, I sometimes embellish it for my own amusement. Hadn’t I spent the last week climbing mountains and pretending that it was Mount Doom instead of Ben Lomond? My world of imagination never really left because I never really wanted to give it up. If I did consent to giving it up, it would feel like giving up a part of myself that still believes I can be great.

I’m not as innocent as I was as a child any longer. I don’t believe that I can clean my room by snapping my fingers any more. I shut my window to Peter Pan a long time ago. I’ve stopped knocking on the back of every wardrobe and searching for rabbit holes. When I do find myself slipping into dreamland, however, I don’t think I’m wrong or unique any more. I think that most people need a bit of fantasy in their lives. The Lord of the Rings took the world by storm again when they were released as movies. The Harry Potter franchise has impacted more people than anyone ever would have thought possible. What is it about fantasy and dreaming that is so popular? Is there something in us that needs to dream? In one of his discussions on fantasy, J.R.R. Tolkien stated that “Fantasy remains a human right: we make in our measure and in our derivative mode: because we are made: and not only made, but made in the image and likeness of a Maker”. Does not this desire to create magic also relate to our desire to create for ourselves? We dream of being great. We dream of being wonderful.

In the parable of the talents, it is the man who hides his talent in the ground that is punished. I used to find this depressing. Why is it that the man who is given least is punished? It wasn’t fair for the men given more to be given even more still. The poor man who received only one talent was being left out. But what if this parable also related to our dreams and goals and visions for ourselves? We learn in Sunday school that we are literal children of God, destined to be Gods if we are righteous. When we try to achieve easy ends, or when we decide not to pursue great things, are we not essentially burying our talents in the dirt? It feels like we are denying our own Godliness if we do not try to reach important goals. It feels like we are denying God’s ability to help us reach our dreams. Perhaps this has little to do with imagining magical lands through wardrobes and birds that sing in harmony with me, but it does relate to an old dream of being an author. Of doing something that is important in the world, and of being a person that is unique and significant to someone somewhere in the void.

I take a picture of the robin who poses obligingly on the end of my bench before flying off to find another bug for breakfast, or perhaps to meet an unrequited lover, or to visit another bench and another writer. Our group is getting ready to leave. I put my camera and journal away, still thinking about the bird and the pleasant wave of childhood memories I’ve just had. I think about what Wordsworth would have written if he had experienced what I did, or what he would have said if he could have read my thoughts. I think about robins and hiking and the hero’s journey and fantasy and how I’ve always felt so foolish allowing my dreams to take such hold of my way of thinking and dealing with life, and then I see the robin again. He’s watching me go. I change my mind. Why should I feel foolish? If I live in a world of impossible dreams, then I am opening up several hundred more possibilities by reaching for something that feels impossible. Living in the possible isn’t enough. It isn’t courageous to accept the mundane. It’s living in impossibility that shows us what we’re made of. I leave the garden with a backwards glance towards where the robin was as I left. He isn’t there.


Essay #2 (Selections)
DAY ONE: The night is dark and damp. We’ve just heard the poet Terry Gifford give us a wonderful lecture on how he constructs his poetry. Or rather, the rest of the group has heard Terry Gifford give a wonderful lecture on how he constructs poetry. I was in the kitchen making curry for dinner. The only part of it I heard was at the very end when he pulled out a folded book that contained a series of images he made while visiting Australia. Each page contained only one image. He challenged us to try doing the same thing, so I was on the watch for images. We turned down an alleyway. The street was completely empty. Lamp posts made pools of light on damp pavement. No-not completely empty. There is a couple on the walk ahead of us. The boys lead the group across the street so that we’re not interrupting their goodbyes. I hesitate because I’m curious. The man has his forehead buried against the neck of the woman. Was she taller than him? Was she wearing heals? I don’t know. It was strange. Then she kissed his forehead and I turned away, feeling like an intruder. Something about watching romance on a movie or reading about it in a book seems displaced compared to this scene. Kisses on foreheads are supposed to mean something related to comfort or the order of things because the forehead is higher than the cheek and the man kisses the forehead because he is the man and the woman kisses the cheek because she is the woman but not on this street. On this street the woman kisses the forehead and that’s how the relationship works. I wonder about their relationship and how the dynamic works. Arms and heads and whatever else intertwined the way things are it doesn’t seem like they could be unequal exactly. I see stars. I look for stars at night because I want to fly there some day and see that they really do exist even though science says they don’t but I know better. I know that stars exist because they are God’s. I know that on one of those stars is a place where new flowers grow and new buildings are built and sciences are different and people walk backwards and the animals are in charge. I look at the stars because they should give light but don’t. Starless nights aren’t much different to me than a night full of stars except one has the stars and the other doesn’t. There are so many songs about stars that make me sick and I hate thinking about them in sappy ways because it reminds me that I’m a girl and I like to be giddy but I don’t like to feel foolish so I embrace romance and push it away, like when I watch the couple on the street and then look away because I’m intruding on something that belongs to them and not to a bunch of American tourists. I’ve developed a fascination with tea and how it tastes after I take a sip. Peppermint leaves a taste like Christmas and Lemon Ginger leaves a taste like being sick at home even though I never drank Lemon Ginger when I was sick at home because my parents don’t buy herbal tea. I like the look of the liquid in the cup and wonder about how the tea bags are put together so that every single time I drink a cup it tastes the same even though the ratio of different spices probably changes and who came up with tea anyway? Or the idea for the wheel? Maybe God didn’t talk to Adam just about naming the animals or Joseph just about interpreting dreams but told them where to find tea and wheels and dogs that make good pets and cats that can be house trained. No-it was probably earlier than that. Wheels came before Joseph and after Adam and I don’t know about the tea except the Chinese are famous for it and the English drink it all the time and I drink it because I wanted to be more English and now I really like it instead of pretending to like I did when I was twelve.

Essay #3 (Selections)

I wrote a story once late at night the night before it was due on a blind woman who liked to garden. This story was completely anti-everything-I-do-in-fiction-writing because I tend to research things to death before I write about them for fear of screwing things up but I didn’t have time to research what it was like to be blind in more detail than I already had so I just made up most of it so that it sounded good. I needed a gimmick to bring out the sensory details in my writing and I needed a way to write a story without ever saying that she was blind and just letting it be figured out as it went along. It worked pretty well as a page and a half story about a woman who could smell the difference in colors of flowers. I don’t know if such a thing is possible or not. I don’t know if it matters though. Artist’s liberty. Harry Potter can make things fly with a wand, I can make a blind woman smell color. There it is. I love looking at the different colors. When we hiked to Tintern Abbey from St. Briavel’s Castle almost every green looked exactly the same at first until I really started to think about the colors and look at them and then I realized that, of course, as I thought I would be, I was wrong. It makes a really good cheesy metaphor about being unique or something but I won’t use it because the end is too obvious from the beginning. There’s no point in that. There’s no struggle for understanding or…whatever else it takes to get a good jaunt out of a metaphor. I wish we didn’t train ourselves to find so much meaning in everything. We spend so much time as English people hashing and re hashing stories to the point where we start looking for meanings and double meanings in everything because taking something at face value isn’t good enough for an essay but what if something is just fine at face value? One of these days I’ll hand in an essay that goes like this: “Pride and Prejudice is a wonderful romance,” and then hand it in without any explanation because it’s true and that’s just fine, isn’t it? Do we really want any more essays on how complex Darcy is? Is he complex? Or did years of over-analysis thrust complexity on him? What about Elizabeth? Does she really change? And what about how superficial it is that she sees Darcy’s metaphorical house and falls in love with him instantly? Does anyone look at the story from that angle? About how instead of being a romance, it’s actually about a money-hungry girl who takes Charlotte Lucas’ advice and turns into Lady Catherine version 2.0? Of course not. But then, someone probably has which means even that analysis is old and what’s the point of that? There’s nothing for it. So I will stick with my one sentence essay and go on enjoying things at face value every once in a while without the analysis if I can. I’m like a trained monkey.

Synthesis Essay:

“From the point of yonder rolling cloud I plunge into my past being and revel there . . . and I begin to feel, think, and be myself again . . . mine is that undisturbed silence of the heart which alone is perfect eloquence.” ~William Hazlitt

I came into this trip not feeling exactly secure with myself. I wasn’t unhappy with my life necessarily but there were things about myself that I felt were childish or stupid or probably could do with some change. There is a very strong part of my mind that loves to dream and imagine and pretend in a way that no one else does and I felt like it should probably change. At the same time though, I didn’t want it to change. I thought I should, but I didn’t feel any real urgency to do so because I like doing it. I like the way I think. Sometimes I feel bad feeling the spirit more in fictional books and metaphors that sectional writers come up with than when I read the scriptures, for example. But God will speak to me in ways that I am ready to listen and if that means that I can find God through books I read and movies I see or whatever other means I find him then so be it. I am unique but I am not wrong or strange. At least not any more wrong or strange than anyone else. I am still unhappy with some of my life, but not that part of my life.

“And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.” ~Genesis 1:31

“And out the ground made the Lord God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and good for food; the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of knowledge of good and evil.” ~Genesis 2:9

“For God so loved the world . . .” John 3:16

The Bronte’s were wrong. We talk so much about how we should separate ourselves from the world in the church. We should, in a symbolic way of moving away from the secular things that won’t bring us eternal happiness, but in another way, we should be very much a part of this world. God loves this earth. It is his creation every bit as much as we are. We might be greater because we are his children, but this earth is beautiful and it is his and there is no crime in loving the out doors. My mindset about being outdoors changed from the beginning of the trip. I’m not always keen on being outside, but there are times when I just need to be out and feel the sun on my face. I wish the states had a park system as they do here. I will have to hunt when I get home to find places where I can ‘be one with the gods’.

Phew. There it is. If you made it to the end I might make you brownies.

Evil or not evil? That is the question...

Wow. Another lame title. But that's ok because I'm doing two posts in one day. Mostly out of boredom, but also out of a measure of excitement over Harry Potter madness! First of all-Dan-you hate Ron? Sad day! Why on earth would you hate Ron? I could understand a certain level of annoyance with his movie counterpart-one of the biggest flaws I see in the movie is the transformation of Ron from bearer of wizard culture wisdom to comic sidekick. But hate Ron? That's rather depressing.

I had some friends over tonight to join me in a bit of Robin Hood love from the BBC-(yes, I've continued my mission to corrupt others) and one of my friends declared that he has read all of book seven via some very clever hacker friends. Hmm. I think I'll echo Kuzco from The Emperor's New Groove here for a moment-"Riiiiight". Would Scholastic really be that ridiculous and easy to tap into? Or Bloomsbury? I doubt it. He kept going on about "oh...but I can't tell you that. It's in the next book", etc. Good gravy. People are so gullible around Harry Potter time. Last time the book came out I was working at B&N and had several very confused people ask me the difference between the regular and deluxe box set versions of the book-they seemed to think that the deluxe edition had deleted scenes or an alternate ending or something. I wanted to very rudely remind them that books are not movies and they don't have deleted scenes or alternate endings outside of the Choose Your Own Adventure world.

On to the next question, then!

Is Snape Good or Evil?

Good. Ish.

In terms of plot development, Snape has to be good or Harry has been right about him the whole series. If that's the case than it's a bit anti-climactic. If Harry's been right the whole time and finally proves himself right it's much more anti-climactic for his character development than if Snape is really good and proves himself, and Harry has to come to terms with it-it's another symbolic way that he would rise above the point his parents were at when they were killed.

Let's look at Snapes' track record. I'm really fond of looking at this via. the second chapter of book 6: Spinner's End. I'm using this chapter because Liz has already addressed this same question with my same conclusion using other text for back up. Let's break things down by looking at the chapter:

In the chapter Bellatrix and Narcissa show up at Snape's rather bleak house because Narcissa is worried about a promise that Draco has made. The promise is never fully explained, but we know that it deals with Voldemort. We assume that the task Draco was given is to kill Dumbledore (as seen later on in the book). Since this is never stated directly it's still in the strongly assumed category (unless Jo said it directly in an interview...I can't remember. Draco more or less confirms it in Chapter 27). That's not the point. Narcissa is worried because her son is headstrong and foolish (he's a teenager, in other words), and she thinks that Draco is in over his head. She doesn't think he'll be able to complete the task. She's come asking for help from Snape for a few obvious reasons: he's in a convenient position to look out for him as a teacher at the school, and she trusts him as an old friend. Bellatrix isn't so sure. She states forcefully that she does not trust Snape (US, 25). Snape asks Bellatrix why she doesn't trust him.

"A hundred reasons!" she said loudly, striding out from behind the sofa to slam her glass upon the table. "Where to start! Where were you when the Dark Lord fell? Why did you never make any attempt to find him when he vanished? What have you been doing all these years that you've lived in Dumbledore's pocket? Why did you stop the Dark Lord procuring the Sorcerer's Stone? Why did you not return at once when the Dark Lord was reborn? Where were you a few weeks ago when we battled to retrieve the prophecy for the Dark Lord? And why, Snape, is Harry Potter still alive, when you have had him at your mercy for five years?" (US, 25)

She definitely gives us something to think about. One interesting question to consider is not so much why did Voldemort trust Snape from the beginning, but why he still trusts Snape. Snape is never very clear about all of that in this chapter. He just says that the Dark Lord understands, that Voldemort shouldn't feel the need to share all of it with Bellatrix to pacify her...etc. etc. It's a bit cryptic. Especially considering how good Voldemort is at Legilimency. Snape must be really really good at Occlumency. And then there's the question of why Dumbledore trust's Snape-that's even more ambiguous (which makes it more exciting plot-development wise for Harry and crew to discover why it is! More proof!)

Anyway. I'm not going to detail the whole chapter. Snape gives counterpoints for each of Bella's claims. He suggests that Voldemort has asked him each one of these questions as well and has accepted his answers. He also says something rather interesting- "You think he (Voldemort) is mistaken? Or that I have somehow hoodwinked him? Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard, the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen?" (US, 26). Well. That'd make for an interesting plot twist. Most of what he gives Bellatrix from this point on seems like relative truth (in the "from a certain point of view" way ala. Obi Wan). Where the conversation gets meaty is when he addresses the last part of her question-why he allowed Harry to live. Snape's been doing pretty well up to this point, but here his answer gets a little weak. He says that he didn't kill Harry because he is Dumbledore's favorite and killing him would put him into Azkaban. Really, Snape? Wouldn't killing any student put him into Azkaban? He also says that it was apparent that he (Harry) had no extraordinary talent. Now, we know that Harry, whatever he is, isn't Snape's favorite student but this is going a bit far. Snape knows that Harry is a good student. He's not the best, but he has already managed to thwart Voldemort four times in person-more than any other full grown wizard save Dumbledore perhaps, but even Dumbledore hasn't survived a killing curse-he competed in the Triwizard tournament, he can produce a coporeal patronus, he can withstand the Imperius curse-no. Even Snape cannot deny that Harry is incredibly talented in unique ways. (Dense perhaps at times, but that's what makes him human and interesting as a character). Harry is not, as Snape claims to Bella-"mediocre to the last degree".

A few questions then-

1) Why didn't Dumbledore give him the Dark Arts job until this year? Was it because of the curse? Because he knew it would bring out the worst in Snape? Because he wanted to keep him on staff as long as possible to keep a close watch on him and didn't want him in the cursed post? And why did he give it to him this year? My guess?: Because Dumbledore anticipated what was going to happen at the end of the year-he knew that his days were numbered. Snape is very talented in the Dark Arts and would be a good challenge to Harry's already high skills in what it would take to defeat Voldemort in the end (Snape is still teaching Harry in the end-he tells him that he must learn how to keep his 'mouth shut and his mind closed' to be any match in a real duel). I also find it interesting that what bothers Snape the most in that last confrontation is when Harry calls him a coward. Wow. That's a nerve.

2) How much about the situation did Snape understand during this scene with Bellatrix and Narcissa? My guess? Not at the beginning. He was probably just guessing. But with Narcissa in her weak, crying state-he may have perceived her thoughts through Legilimency. Perhaps Dumbledore thought something like this might happen and told him the correct action to take in such a situation?

Pay attention to the last two and a half pages. This whole unbreakable vow thing is ridiculously important. Snape's expression is so unreadable-so stoic here. Of the three things he promises-the last one is the one that gets him. His hand twitches and he hesitates in a way that he did not hesitate with the first two questions. He has no problem watching over Draco or protecting him-it's completing the task Draco's been given that worries him. Couple this along with the conversation Hagrid overhears and his hesitance on the tower and his anger at being called a coward and you have a veritable mess of proof to the contrary. Snape is good. Or on the side of good. As I said earlier, I think it's safe to assume that Snape will never be Godfather to any of Harry's children. He isn't likely to start nicknaming any of his children Severus, I don't think-but he is on the side of good, working for the same cause. It will be interesting to see how everything plays out.

So there it is. Snape is good. Joni is good. Joni is tired. Joni is going to go to bed.

It's a Wendy Bird!

Lame title, I know. But I was trying to think of something unexpected and happy (I hope) to kick off my first post in the aftermath of my England experience that was more interesting than what this blog is actually going to be about for the next little while: A place to write about my Harry Potter predictions (not without much bribery and tugging from the Liz corner). We had grandiose ideas about a tag team blog/discussion of sorts at one point when we were in Paris but the draw of the city and a bunch of museums was just too much, oddly enough.

Quick sum-up of the England experience: (I'm debating on whether or not it's worth trying to write about two months of experience in here or not. I think I'll just post bits and pieces from my essays)-Yes, it was amazing, no it didn't change my life, yes, it did give me some new perspectives on myself, yes I miss it, yes I would go back, no I wouldn't do it any time soon, yes I'm glad to be living out of a wardrobe again, no I don't miss the Metro, yes I do miss the tube, no I'm not married (that's for all the people in my ward who thought I'd have time to find someone on the trip *eyeroll*), yes, I enjoy being single, yes, I would like to publish the great American novel about England on the Fourth of July just for kicks.

Phew.

On to Harry Potter. As Liz explains on her blog (if you read it through), Scholastic Publishing has posted a series of questions for people to answer in poll form leading up to the publication of the seventh Harry Potter book next month. The polls themselves are a bit ridiculous. For example, at last count, Voldemort still had 73% (ish) of people convinced that he was going to live. In fact, his was the lowest. Meaning that roughly 73% of people don't think anyone is going to die in the next book (including those in the "other" category). This is, of course, absurd. Jo has told us repeatedly that people will die in this book. Dare I use the word delusional? However, the questions spark decent blog posts, so they aren't completely worthless. I'm not sure how I plan on going about this, but we'll just run with the feeling for a while.

So without any further ado, I proudly present:

Who will live and who will die?

Harry Potter: Live

Does there really need to be a debate about this? Sigh. Alright. Here we go: As the hero of the story, Harry kind of has to live for the story to work. The journey of a hero is represented by a circle. Harry enters the journey with the death of his parents who don't complete their journey because they are killed before they are able to break the chain. Harry must break free of this pattern or the story ends where it begins. That's a lot of ink/paper/time wasted to end up where you started. Yes, I know Jo has said that Harry could die but-let's be honest-would anyone have considered that possibility if she hadn't brought it up in the first place? Noooooo...she started that rumor and we've all lapped it up like thirsty dogs. Well, I haven't. But lots of people have. Harry has to win in the end because, as Dumbledore has said, the greater challenge is in living, not dying. Harry's greater challenge will be in finding a way to live after all this is over. I will say one thing for the Harry dying theory-if anyone can find a way to pull this off and make me believe it, it's Jo. I trust her as a writer to make me believe that if he does end up dying, it's the only way it can work.


Lord Voldemort: Dead. Dead. Dead.

Here's another one of those 'duh' questions. Seriously. Does anyone really have a good reason for Voldemort to live? The whole point of the series is to destroy him. If he's not destroyed then we've wasted a lot of time and money on a franchise.

Ron Weasley: Live(ish)

It's almost against my better judgment to mark Ron as a 'live' but I'm going to. A strong part of me says that of anyone in the trio has to die, he would be it. It's half-foreshadowed in the chess match from book one that Ron will pull the self sacrifice card. It's hard to believe that everyone in the trio will live. All the same though, I'm going to mark him as a live because I don't know that Ron's death would do anything for the plot. What is there to be gained in the metaphor with Ron dying? I don't know. It would be sad of course, but I don't know that it would do anything. Besides that, there's been a bunch of Hermione/Ron build up and stopping it short would make it all kind of wasted. And it would be nice for the trio as a whole to break the tradition of James/Sirius/Lupin/Peter-in dying. (Well, for two of them. Or three. I'm still waiting for Peter to kick it).

Hermione Granger: Live


If I'm struggling to find a point in killing Ron, I'm struggling even more to find a point in killing Hermione. She's the source of knowledge and wisdom to the trio-Ron's death would at least be symbolic. Killing Hermione...no. Just no.


Ginny Weasley: Live

I agree with Liz on this one. Jo has said many times over that Ginny is a very powerful, clever witch. She's Harry's equal in many ways-they've both been put through similar tests over the years. If you parallel the Cho/Cedric and Ginny/Harry storyline, Cho became the weepy (annoying) left over girlfriend to the dead Cedric-Ginny's too strong for that (and so is Harry, for that matter). No-Ginny's storyline has just begun. It wouldn't make any sense to kill her now. Not after introducing her and promising some great things from her. Plus. She has to marry Harry and have lots of cute red headed children. (And they can, you know-if Harry carries that red headed gene from his mother. Isn't it so nicely set up?!)

Neville Longbottom: Dead. More than dead.


Face it, he's a gonner. His death would fulfill the same purpose as Harry's since their lives are paralleled in so many ways. Yup. Neville's done for. Poor kid. He'll build up though and go down a hero. Take down Bellatrix. Do his parents proud. Then move on to the happy little corner in the sky reserved for people like Neville.


Luna Lovegood: Live

Again, where's the point in doing away with Luna? She's not vital enough to die, really. She's a more ethereal form of Hermione-she provides different kinds of wisdom. She's like a less grounded version of Galadriel. She'll help Harry come to terms with people who do die and go on to be a really great Quidditch commentator for the Wimbourne Wasps or something.

Hagrid: Die

I'm going to disagree with Liz and say that Hagrid could die. I mean-my ratios are a little off. I've got most of the main people living and someone has to go-so Hagrid could work. He's the last of the mentors (except Lupin but I'll talk about him in a bit). One of my friends pointed out something about the order in which Harry met people compared to the order they die in-he met Hagrid, then Dumbledore, then Sirius, then Cedric, and then Cedric died, Sirius-etc. I would contend that the theory has a flaw-well, he technically met Sirius earlier than this, and if you don't count that, then Harry "met" Cedric before Sirius through Quidditch-and even then the theory feels really contrived. Harry meets lots of people. All the same though, Hagrid's death could be somewhat symbolic. Ok-all these reasons are lame. I could see Hagrid living too. I'm saying that he'll die mainly to give myself a main character cushion. Because they can't all live, and Hagrid is a nice option for death. I'm heartless...

Dumbledore, Sirius, Cedric, Harry's Parents, all other dead people: Still dead. Check.

Snape/Malfoy: Livead


Here's where I've got a little wonderment going on. I don't think they'll both die. They would both be faced with a similar challenge to Harry in living after all this is over. If I had to pick right now I would say Snape would die and Draco would live (since he's kind of on the anti-hero's journey-the failed journey), but ask me again in five minutes and I'll change my mind. There is redemptive power in one of them turning to the good side and then dying, but it goes the other way as well. So I'll mark them as Livead because they could go one way or the other and still serve a good purpose for the message Jo seems to be working towards. And while we're talking about baddies-even if they live they won't be godfather to Harry's children any time soon. All those people who think that the entire wizarding world will hold hands and sing about perfect harmony with some coke after all this is over ...they're nuts.


Others-


Lupin and Tonks will live and get married and be happy (Lupin has to live for sake of carrying on the legacy of Harry's father and crew-another one of those 'break the trend' things). Other various members of the Order have to die-maybe Mad Eye will finally kick it. Kingsley. Someone we know about/care about for sake of emotional drama. McGonagall could die. A few other Hogwarts teachers. A Weasley or two (my vote is on Molly-maybe a twin-Percy). Papa Malfoy is dead. Bellatrix is dead. Greyback is dead. Moaning Myrtle is already dead. You know. Death dying destruction.


Coming soon: other answers to more pressing questions! Ohhhh boy...

Grab Bag

It's Friday, and I'm at work, and I've got lots on my mind so today is a bit of a mixed bag-order of business: My time to vent, my time to talk up my mother, my time to comment on one of Liz's posts...

And look at all the pretty tabs I have now! Yay for tabs.

So before I wax sentimental-I think I'm going to (once again) steal Liz's thunder and blog over conference. This is, of course, assuming that I have Internet this weekend, and (once again) assuming that I actually have readers who care. My blog is certainly not as widely read as hers is (for obvious reasons), but it'd be a nice way to pay attention and it'll keep me awake.

Thank heaven for this weekend. I've been needing this weekend for ages. I've been really crabby and stressed the last few weeks. I've been blaming school but it really isn't school-my classes this semester are pretty enjoyable and easy, so I can't complain there. What I can (and will) complain about though is my roommate situation and how much I can't wait for the year to end. I'm feeling so suffocated and trapped with the situation I'm in. Half the time I wish I was living with the same girls next year, and the other half of the time I want to pack up my bags and live on the street until the end of the semester to get away. More than half the time for the latter, I think. I don't even know why it's bothering me so much. It probably has something to do with me letting the quirks my roommates have drive me up the wall. I don't like being governed by our system. I'm tired of being told what to buy every week for food and when to do dishes. I've started feeling rather rebellious about it all. I'm glad I've found a better situation for myself next year.

That being said, I don't hate my roommates. I get rather frustrated with a few of them, but I don't hate them. I don't like hearing them talk about what's going to be so fun next year and how they're all living together-it's awkward. I've seen what's happened with Katie-our roommate who moved out last year. I've seen her about three times since last year. Everyone talks about how we'll all eat dinner and see each other and whatever next year but it's all a load of junk. The real reason I've felt horrible is because I can't, no matter what I do, shake the feeling of loneliness I have. Not that I'm not excited to live with Liz-but I'm still like an outsider coming in. All I know right now is that I'm desperate for change that won't come. There are so many things that I want for my life and I don't know how to get them. Or-to quote Jo March "I want to change but I just can't and I know I'll never fit in anywhere!" I don't feel quite so tragic as that but I can certainly relate to the first half of the quote. Thank heaven for Marmee's rebuttal-"You have so many extraordinary gifts. How can you expect to lead an ordinary life?" I don't know about my "extraordinary gifts", but I know I can't expect to lead an ordinary life. At this point I'm just surviving until the end of the semester when I can "bashing around London" (and the rest of England) and get all this weight off my chest.

On to brighter things. My mom has joined the blog-force! Being the activist that she is, she's written a few letters to the editor of our local paper in the last year, and one of the women in our stake (who works for the paper) asked her to be part of a group of mothers who blog about different topics that are relevant to mothers in our area and on motherhood in general. I think it's pretty exciting-not just because I love blogging but because it's just further proof that my mother is incredible. I love that she can take on these new challenges and projects. I can't wait to see what comes of it. Stay tuned-I'll post links when I can.

Alright-I thought I would offer another point of view on the Sexuality at BYU post that Liz made recently. Growing up outside of Utah, I feel like I've got a different perspective on it-or at least on how sexuality should be handled in public education. I agree with Liz-the majority of BYU students are mature enough to handle it. It's when you start dealing in extremes that it gets to be a problem. Granted-all this is coming from the girl who is completely freaked out by physical affection and once stated "I don't want my husband touching me!" It's not true-I'm not against physical affection-I just haven't met anyone I'm comfortable with in that way yet. For details-see my mother. It's all her fault.

From what I understand talking to my Utah friends, the majority of high schools don't have sex ed in High School. They'll do basics (boys and girls are different), but don't discuss too much into STD's, how sex actually "works", or issues surrounding sexuality in general. This is a pretty stark contrast to my public school system, where we spent nearly an entire semester in eighth grade science class discussing nothing but STD's. We gave presentations on them. We had to videotape a song about them. I was on gonorrhea. I spent so much time making handouts and jingles and posters on gonorrhea it was complete overkill. We watched a movie about a naked woman giving birth. We studied it again nearly every year in every science class. It got to be a bit of a joke. Even the teachers didn't really take it seriously. They'd preface everything with "abstinence is the best way, but next to that..." and then list all the facts about using protection and the odds of "success" there (meaning, odds of not getting pregnant or getting an STD). It's a complete polar opposite from schools in this part of the west. Here, it's a famine, there it's a complete flood.

I don't think either way is the best way to go when it comes to sex-ed. It's like Alma says to his son Shiblon-we are supposed to bridle our passions. We don't want to starve the horse (that will kill it), nor do we want to let the horse run wild without any hold on the reins (that will kill us). We are to bridle passions. Control them. And in order to control them, you have to recognize them and know what they are. You can't control something you know nothing about.

I'm not quite sure what the best method of sex education is. I think it's important not to talk too much about it, but the streams of communication should be open. There is, obviously, a level of sacredness. From my experience, though-it's probably best that schools do some of the educating (the scientific part), and parents do the rest (the moral part). If there isn't communication, then kids will find out about sex from other sources-it's not like the sources aren't available.

Then of course, there's the issue when it comes to sexuality and gender affiliation but I don't even want to look at that road right now. I've seen the Readers Forum in the Daily Universe. The debate is too extreme at the moment to cause any headway no matter how many bloggers post on it.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows- Cover Art

What with all my excitement over England, I've half forgotten that Harry Potter is ALSO coming out this summer! I don't know how I'll find room to be excited for both. It's going to be incredible. And for those of you who aren't aware (everyone but Liz, I'm sure), Harry Potter 7 cover art was released today-(see The Leaky Cauldron). What I see first hand (through British/American combonation)-in the American one we see Voldemort and Harry *both* reaching for something (not at each other) in what appears to be some kind of graveyard (what Jo mentioned during the filming of the third movie perhaps?) and Harry wearing a certain necklace...with a snake on it...(nudge wink). The UK kids edition has Ron/Harry/Hermione blasting backwards (look at the direction of the hair) through what looks like some kind of portal away from a pile of treasure (many of them are embelished by snakes). On the back is the UK version of Hogwarts (Ha. I knew it was coming back), and an image of Harry's patronus on the inside cover (plus a little bitty blurb about Harry waiting for the order to get him from Privet Drive. *yawn*. Last time they gave us so many more hints). The most interesting part though is the house elf behind Harry-pretty menacing from the looks of it-(bets on Kreacher) holding what looks like the sword of Gryffindor. And the gleam in Harry's glasses-going after a Horcrux, perhaps? The adult version just has the snake locket. Well. I'm going to go change the wallpaper on my computer and spend some time squeeling over the excitement of Harry 7...

You're too open/closed minded

Here I am again, sitting in my Biology class and not paying attention. I'd feel bad, but I got 100% on the last test so I don't care much. That and he's lecturing on dinosaurs and those won't be on our test so I don't feel the need to pay attention when I could update my blog!

Exactly one month from now, I'm going to be kissing the ground that JK Rowling has walked on by exploring Edinburgh, Scotland. Just thought you'd all like to know :P

So based on different discussions I've had over the last few days, I've been thinking quite a bit about righteous judgment, particularly as it relates to homosexuality. BYU had a recent uproar with the Soulforce visit (well, maybe not an uproar, but at least a few discussions and arrests). It's been a somewhat interesting experience. I've done enough theater to know several individuals who are gay. Some of them are really happy about it, others aren't, but they live that way whether they like it or not. So-thought number one is this: I find it incredibly ironic that we live in a world that punishes people who are closed minded, which seems to be a code for "you don't believe what I believe and are therefore wrong". Think about what Soulforce wanted in visiting our campus-it's like Liz said in her blog. They don't want discussion. They want to educate us on their point of view and expect us to agree with them. (Which is of course exactly what many people around here want in reverse).

Which brings me to point number two: people who just accept what they're given and don't question it. Moroni's promise is the scientific method. The Lord doesn't want us to be lukewarm-He wants us to question the gospel (with the right spirit of course) and test it for validity. We have to know. Part of this involves finding out what other people believe. Going back to the discussion on homosexuality-I think it's a little too simple for people in our church (and out of it) to say that it's all a choice. As with other mental disorders-manic depression, for example- we don't really know how much of what they feel is a choice, how much of it is driven by what society tells them, and how much of it is driven by some kind of chemical/hormonal imbalance. No, I don't think that God sent anyone here to fail. However, I also think that he takes into account the mentality of the individual-and that is something that none of us have the ability to fully understand, because we are not God.

Unfortunately, the ideal world doesn't exist, and many students on this campus (and outside of it) are just as closed minded as those who claim to be more open minded. Why can't we all just be 'minded'? Why can't we respect differences even when we don't agree with them? Yes-absolute truth is out there. The gospel of Jesus Christ has been restored and the church is true-I'm not debating that. What I find sad is that we forget that other people believe in their God as fervently as we do ours, and with good reason. I have a testimony that this church is true, but others have that same feeling for the church/belief they follow. It's about respect.

So my feelings on Soulforce to wrap things up-I think the theory behind the idea is somewhat admirable. I think it is a good idea to make people aware of the oppression, particularly on a campus like ours where tolerance is occasionally as Andrew Mecham said in the Readers Forum of the Daily Universe today-condescending tolerance. However, I think the underlying reason behind Soulforce is bad both for them, and for us. It makes us look even less tolerant than usual, and it makes them look like people who don't want any more dialogue than we do. The purpose is lost entirely. No one wants discussion, because both sides are full of very vocal people without respect for the other side. Few people bother to research the other side and become slightly more open minded.

Anyway-this didn't end up being the grandiose statement on society I intended it to be (name one of my posts that really did end up being what I wanted it to be-), but I think it's probably because there is no solution. It's like we've been talking about in my Study Abroad class recently-it's all about finding different centers of self, and for anything to work there has to be work done on both sides.

17 Minutes

I'm in an extremely boring class right now and the only cure I can think of is more blogging. The cow bell phenomenon was lost on me.

Thank heaven for spring! I've had a really horrible last few weeks. I've felt really lonely and frustrated with life in general, and I still feel traces of that now but the weather has certainly taken the edge off. I don't think I could ever live in a place where there was no spring, or even a place where there was a kind of spring all year. It's why I scoff at people who think that Southern California is the only good place on earth. There is something about the first day of spring when you can take off your coat and just feel the warm weather after a long, seemingly endless winter.

I hate money. I hate it. My last study abroad payment is due today and I'm going to watch the money in my savings account go from a comfortable four digits to a slightly less comfortable two. I have to keep reminding myself that I did know this was coming. I knew that it was coming. It's why I worked two jobs over the summer-so that I could watch my hard earned money go towards England but still. I will continue to echo Jo March in Little Women: "I hate money".

I do however love babysitting. I know. Some people think I'm nuts or don't miss it at all, but I love babysitting. I think it's probably the next best thing to being a grandparent-you get to be there for a few hours, enjoy a kid who thinks you're incredible because you sneak them cookies and then go home. I get to babysit my perpetually happy cousin tonight and I'm really excited. Seriously-I've met some happy kids in my life but this boy is always happy. The last time I saw him he was sick as a dog and still running around with this massive grin on his face. That being said-I like babysitting but I would never be a nanny again. I spent one summer as a nanny and I'd never go back. At least not without a car. I sat in that house every day for three months and only had a car for a few hours once a week when my mom wasn't using it-we couldn't really go anywhere and there's only so many times you can run through the sprinklers or walk to the park before it gets old.

Tomorrow is the best holiday of the year-if you aren't Irish I feel bad for you. I love my Irish heritage. My ancestors were bards which means, according to one of my professors, that they were more than just writers and poets. Bards used to be sent by the lord of the manor to the front of a battle line to taunt the enemy into submission to avoid fighting. They'd shame the enemy so that they couldn't fight because they were so worthless. Yeah. My ancestors are amazing.

You'll excuse the eclectic post-I don't have anything incredible to say except thank heaven for weekends. I don't think I could go another day this week without suffering some kind of melt down. I have had enough. I'm going to go sit outside for hours and let the sun re-energise me. Like Superman.

Reflections on Womanhood

Well if that isn't a daunting title! I'm about to embark down roads that most of you who read this will probably already agree on. Seeing as my reading base isn't that wide, and most of the reading base I do have consists of females who are pursuing higher education, but I feel the desire to write in order to avoid homework, and this has been on my head so-enjoy if you so feel the desire.

We've been reading David Copperfield in my study abroad class. It's not my favorite Dickens novel. Partly because it feels so much longer than the other novels of his that I've read, and partly because I don't like David at all. He's obnoxious. He has high ideals but doesn't live up to them (ok, so he's human...or as human as literary characters can be). He does exactly what I hate in men-marry the pretty ignorant girl because he's so in love with her because she's so cute and naive and whatever else is exciting about it. She can't do a thing and she knows it and she doesn't try to improve herself at all and he doesn't care. I've been thinking about how much I can't stand women who don't try and make something of themselves. Who live for makeup and parties and social life and being cute and have no higher aspirations for themselves. Yes-I like to look nice. I make an effort to do so. I keep my clothes clean and I do my hair and a bit of makeup in the morning because I like to look like I feel. I want to get married. But I have goals for myself outside of marriage that I intend to meet.

Not that I think the church is wrong-President Hinckley has said that he wants women who are intelligent-he comments on how the best thing the church can do for their women is to let them be and give them space to do what they will with it. But I think that some parts of church culture have gone to a bit of an extreme when it comes to creating cutsy girls. Relief Society lessons that I've been to (not necessarily in my ward here), have turned into frilly, light, pat on the back kind of things that are formulated to make women cry. Sweet, sugar coated cotton candy like fluff. There is something to be said for a nice, feel good lesson, but there is also something to be said for a lesson that teaches and motivates and instructs. I'm tired of modesty lessons, for example, when the teacher apologises for saying that certain clothes aren't acceptable. Don't apologise! It's the truth. Leggings and mini skirts are not appropriate. Period. Sometimes I think girls are so afraid of hurting another person's feelings that they don't come out and just say things. Sure, there's something to be said for tact, but don't excuse boldness (use boldness, not overbearance).

That may not have been the best example. What I'm trying to say is that yes-homemaking is good. I take pride in my cooking abilities and I'm glad that I know how to keep a house clean. When I have my own house, I feel fairly certain that I'll be able to manage the cooking and cleaning. Beyond that though, I want to have hobbies that exist beyond the home. My mother has always been an example to me of someone who knows how to run a household and teach her children, but is able to have something for herself as well. And it isn't selfish-it's completely necessary. What I don't like are women like Dora in David Copperfield who are nothing more than little kittens to be paraded around. I want a life outside scrapbooking and fawning over my husband.

All this being said, however, one thing I respect most is my mother putting aside her career to stay home and raise us. She still has hobbies and pursuits outside of us-we aren't her world, just part of it-but a woman who can do both things is a woman that I want to be.

All things bright and beautiful...

I had the opportunity to be in sunny St. George over the weekend. It was so nice to be away from school and regenerate a bit. I think I'm like Superman-occasionally I can take power from the sun. (Fortunately I still love rain). But the warm weather was welcome.

I went down with all of my roommates and yesterday we went to Zion National Park to go on a hike before we went home. It was absolutely incredible. I'd never gone before-I thought it was just some park that you drive through and go home, I didn't know hikes were involved. But we hiked Emerald Pools. It's one of the easier hikes but I enjoyed it. My roommates blazed ahead of me and I ended up about twenty minutes behind them (not because I can't hike, but because I'm picture obsessed). I'm glad I stayed behind-partly because it gave me a chance to practise my photography skills again, and partly because taking the hike slowly on an empty trail allowed me to really enjoy God's creations. It's incredible. It's beyond incredible all that God has made. I took pictures of acorns on trees and logs that had twisted and fallen and leaves and waterfalls and mountains of a hundred different colors and textures. We're lucky here in Utah to live so close to the mountains-I've seen other places where the majesty of God's work is less "in your face", but the mountains are hard to ignore.

Enjoy the pictures...(since I figure out how to add them. Yes. I know it's obvious), and slow down and just enjoy the day.

Group essays are against my religion

Two whole posts in one week! I must not have enough to do (ha!).

I got my first essay back from my Anthropology professor today. She told us on the first day of class that the average grade she gives for the first essay is a D-, so when I got my B I was pretty pleased with myself. She pointed out a few flaws in my argument that I already knew existed so I'll turn in another copy of my essay, get my A and move on with life. I love being above average...*sigh*

Our next essay for this class is a group essay. Now...I hate group work in general. I can see the benefit of it but I still hate it. I prefer to work on my own when it comes to my grade. I should clarify-I can see the benefit for group projects where a little collaboration is a good thing. I don't see the benefit in group essays. Too many minds working on what is supposed to be the product of one, unified voice. What a disaster. It's hard as it is because the class is so huge and I didn't even know the names of my group members when I signed up. Maybe it's just because I'm an English major and I have essay writing euphoria, but this whole project seems like a disaster to me. It's a melding of different writing styles and techniques and levels. I've never seen so many "we's" in an essay before. Or passive verbs. Gah! Fortunately for me I got my grubby little essay writing fingers on the essay before we had to submit it, which will give me ample time to do a sufficient amount of research and correcting of bad usage before the blasted thing is turned in on Friday. I hope my group doesn't mind what I've done to it, but it really is in a sorry state. The things some people find acceptable in writing...it's a huge piece of wordy mess that doesn't actually say anything earth shattering or relevant.

This being said, I hope none of them read my blog. And I hope that people forget to show up to our meeting today so that I won't feel guilty when I massacre the essay tonight with my research skills. Either that or hope they won't care that I've taken over the essay. *shutter*. I'm glad that I have at least some kind of competence when it comes to writing...

UPDATED: We got an A. I believe one person in the group made the comment: "I've never got an A on a paper before!" You're welcome.

Life and the Hero's Journey

This is it. The big one. The one we've all been waiting for...

Actually I just wanted to say that because I was listening to Harry Potter this morning. I figure if I listen to book one this month, book two next month, book three in April etc. etc. etc. I'll have listened to all of the books again by the time book 7 comes out. It's rather appropriate, and very kind of Jo and her publishers to arrange this for me. I tip my hat to them.

So while I was outside enjoying the marvelous weather on the top of the JFSB, I started looking at the mountains...which is rather hard not to do from the top of the JFSB. The mountains are pretty much the only thing you can see. But mountains make me think of a few things and one of them is the Sound of Music. And after I smiled at the thought of the Sound of Music, I remembered that I needed to watch that movie for my ASL class (with captioning and no sound-which I promise to do until the Captain sings, at which point I can't promise a thing. Christopher Plummer-you stud). And then I started thinking about the rest of the movies in my collection...and maybe it was the connection with the mountains but I started thinking about Lord of the Rings...which made me think about Narnia...etc. etc. etc. Basically this is just a long, extended paragraph to tell you why I'm thinking what I'm thinking.

I own about...what...thirty movies? Maybe? A fair amount. Unless you want to group several copies of Pride and Prejudice together, and all of my Anne movies, and my copies of TV series' like Road to Avonlea together-either way. It's a wide selection. Same thing goes with my books. (This is going somewhere, I promise). Based on a conversation I was having with myself I was also thinking about how much I would love to be a writer-and how what holds me back is my fear of failure and my fear of not having anything original to say. How in the world could I come up with a character as real as Anne Shirley? Or characters as funny as Fred and George Weasley? A story more tragic and beautiful than The Lord of the Rings? And even if I could-who would want to read it? What does it matter? Why do we read anyway? There is no dark ring on this earth. Avonlea doesn't really exist. My broom will never be able to fly.

When I start thinking cynical (and depressing) things such as this, I naturally start to justify. I mean-I am an English Teaching major. I could no more stop reading and writing than I could stop breathing. It's part of who I am. So why does it matter? Because I think that-to a degree-our life really is the hero's journey. Not exactly an original or unique statement I suppose, most people in my major have thought about this at one point or another, but I think it's really important for us to imagine life like the hero's journey for several reasons.

First-our lives really are journeys. We go places. We do things. We travel and experience. Life is active. At the beginning of a hero's journey (let's take Lord of the Rings-it fits well into the mold and it sounds more scholarly than Star Wars)-the hero-Frodo (or Sam. I prefer thinking of Sam as the hero-) begins in a place where there are no huge adventures. Adventures are frowned upon really. But either way, his life is at "normal". It's hit a kind of every day stride. It's still active, but it's certainly not as active as going to destroy a huge evil ring of power. Life is like that sometimes. It's summer vacation. But the point here is that we go places. We are forced into situations that we don't always want to be in where life throws that ring of power around our necks and says-alright Frodo, go destroy it.

But we don't go on these journeys alone. We always have people there. Anyone who reads this is free to correct me, but I can't think of a single example of a person being entirely alone for a whole life. Not unless they choose to be (or have it forced on them by abusive parents-I heard of a girl once who was locked in a room for seven years, but then even she had contact with her dad and-I'm getting away from my point). Every hero has his Sam.

And then every hero has his Gandalf the Grey. The one who has power-obvious connection here with the Savior who dies, overcomes death, and becomes more powerful (Gandalf the White).

I don't need to go through all of this. We know how it goes. They leave home, they get friends, they get a talisman for help, people die, the old wise one will die and come back, after lots of trouble the ring is destroyed and we have the tying together of all loose ends and things are happy until someone else decides to create another ring of power.

My point is that thinking of our lives in this way is useful, because in many ways it's true. We are trying to overcome things. We do have the old wise guy to help us. We have our problems. We tell our Sam's to go away (and they come back). People die. We struggle, we fight, we lose, we lose over and over again until we do win because that's what heroes do. It's why Harry won't die in Deathly Hallows-because in this genre-the hero MUST defeat the villain and he must LIVE afterwards. He will have to go into the last battle completely alone physically, but he won't be alone emotionally because of everything else that has happened to bring him to this point. He will be changed. He might run off to the Grey Havens to find peace in a world that can give him none-but he survives. It's the whole point of the book-to make the hero fight for his life to live. It is what we do. We see mountains we cannot climb and we climb them. It's how we're programmed. It's how I'm programmed anyway. I suppose I can't speak for the rest of the world. But I don't know many people who are content to let outside forces dictate on them forever. Not people who are happy for long at any rate. It isn't a happy state to be in. It's not proactive.


So there you have it. Go destroy your rings of power now. No one wants to be Gollum. Well...I take that back. My twelve year old brother does. But it's just because of the cool voice and the loin cloth. Don't ask.

The end of the world as I know it...

Here comes a post that is far from the prophetic heights I normally reach for, but indulge me a little because I'm about to wax sentimental...

Years ago, a little, strange looking-braces wearing Joni was going to Junior High School. In the middle of the year her English teacher handed out a book order that contained an offer for some very bad, and some very good books. Joni saw a few books that looked interesting...they had pretty covers...so she ordered them. Several weeks later Joni had in her backpack Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Joni read...Joni loved...Joni bought the first book and read it as well. She waited months for the fourth book, years for the fifth, and ages for the sixth...she theorized, she ranted, she scared people with her obsessiveness...

And now the end of that era is about to come, because ten years later, the last book of the series is finally coming out. Now, people who don't really know me all that well probably won't understand, but those of you who *do* know me well will understand that when I obsess about something, I *really* obsess about them. I don't hold back at all. I learn anything and everything on the topic of choice. Over the years I have become a walking encyclopedia on the Romanovs, or the sinking of the Titanic, or the history of Lucy Maud Montgomery or-as this post is about-Harry Potter. Harry Potter really has defined my years growing up. When I started reading the series I was a girl on the verge of teenager hood and by the time this book comes out I will have officially moved beyond that stage of my life.

As sentimental and sappy and unoriginal as it sounds, Harry Potter really did help me out growing up. Hermione especially taught me that it was alright to be smart. Really, in the first few books we don't see Hermione with a lot of friends other than Ron and Hermione. It isn't until book four/five that we see her spending time with Ginny as well and even then she's not the most popular girl around. I could relate to that. I'm not saying I'm the smartest person in the world, but I do know what it is like to be made fun of for being the teacher's pet. I know what it's like to hear people saying horrible things about you. Most people do. These books are incredible really-they got my brother reading again. They got half of America reading again. They've taken the world by storm and if you haven't read them you've probably seen the movies, and if you haven't done that then you're probably one of the groups of people out there who think they'll turn into witches for reading them (or who aren't reading them out of rebellion against pop culture, but I'm here to tell you-I liked them before they were a huge hit, so everyone can get in line behind me for book 7).

Anyway. I don't have time, and I'm sure you don't really care, to hear any more about Harry Potter-but let's just say that today has made me think a bit about what's in store for a world after Potter. I've been (ugh, not to quote Hillary Clinton) living history as I've watched all this unfold, and it's exciting. It's *really* exciting.

Only...six months and twenty days to go :) And I'm telling you all right now-Harry won't die. If you want *that* rant, then just tell me that you think he will, and expect a six page long post about the history of the hero's journey.

Re-Evaluating

I've been doing a bit of self evaluation the last day due to an experience in my Brit Lit class that effected me more than it probably should have. It really wasn't that big of a deal-but for the sake of everyone (but Liz who was there), here's how it happened-

We've been reading Pride and Prejudice and yesterday after having finished the book, our professor and TA lined a few of us up based on character traits we share with different people in the book, and I was brought up by the TA as Jane Bennett. *double take*. Jane? Jane's sweet. And completely innocent. And doesn't judge anyone, and she's shy and modest etc. etc. etc. I can see parts of myself in a few other Austen heroines but never Jane. For the obvious reason that I talk and she doesn't and I see her as being prettier than I see myself, and she doesn't judge others.

I'm probably taking the little exercise a little too seriously, but I've been thinking about Jane and, as a result, Elinor Dashwood from Sense and Sensibility today more than I've been paying attention in classes. I see Elinor as Jane version 2.0-she's still more reserved when it comes to how she feels, but she's witty. She judges others, but is able to forgive. She has a little more pluck, but she's still just as loyal to duty. In other words, I guess I've finally decided that even though I'm probably just as outspoken as Elizabeth is, my real hero is Elinor. All the die hard Pride and Prejudice fans will hate me for it, but Sense and Sensibility is officially my favorite book by Austen, and I think Elinor is a more valuable heroine, and a more dynamic heroine than Elizabeth is. Elizabeth is funny, and though she does undergo some change which makes her dynamic, I value Elinor's strength even more.

I suppose I could formulate this into an interesting essay someday-but for now, just know that I've been doing some self evaluation (if you care), and I'm posting in my blog when I don't have time (to please Liz :P), and I'm in love with my British Lit class, for finally doing what lit classes are supposed to do-Hold up that mirror to the reader and force you to see beyond the nice romance or the morbid revolution, or the entertaining comedy-and look back at yourself with the questions "So what? What have I learned from this, and how am I going to change?"

Dedicated to an old friend...

And by old I mean *really* old. That's right-this post is dedicated to my dearest friend in the entire world: Liz! Her birthday is tomorrow and she's turning 21. Oh boy. And I can do it here because I know she'll read it, and this is a more creative birthday post than something through facebook.

Liz and I have been friends since we were about five which means, if you do the math, about fifteen years. I think it's pretty safe to say that I know her pretty well. I know that her heart is definately the softest in the world-she puts up with my begging for rides all the time, for instance. I know that when she dedicates herself to something she really dedicates herself to it in a way that I admire. I know that tomorrow she could legally drink if she wanted to but she won't ;) I also know that I am incredibly fortunate to have her as a friend. She has been there for me a thousand times over, probably at times when she couldn't afford to waste any emotional energy on me but did anyway-so, Liz-this one's for you (because I still have tons of Pride and Prejudice reading to do and don't have time to elaborate), Happy Birthday tomorrow! You're incredible.

Because there is still good in this world...

Happy Christmas Eve to everyone! My Christmas gift to all of you, being the extremely poor person that I am, is a blog post! Huzzah! (Virgin) Drinks all around! I hope that all of you, my dear blogging friends in the void, have a very happy Christmas and that you enjoy this wonderful time of the year.

I've got two main things to talk about tonight and one of them kind of leads into the other so here it goes. I went to church with my grandparents today because I'm staying with them (and the rest of my family) until just after new years. Coming from a student ward in general it's a bit of a shock to the system-much more noisy. My grandma's ward is in two extremes: there are the really young new families and the really old couples. Discussion in relief society was pretty non existent and (I'll be honest), I wasn't paying much attention to it. The discussion was something about how we need to be disciples of Christ and what that means. Everyone was giving the standard "do your visiting teaching" "do your best" kind of answers so I kind of tuned it out in favor of this adorable baby a row across from me who kept making cute faces. Near the end of the lesson (or was it the end of Gospel Doctrine? Shows how much I was paying attention), the speaker made reference to a quote (Maxwell?) about how we will some day have to answer the question about what Christ means to us. So in light of the Christmas season, I'll propose that we all think a little more about what the Savior means to us as individuals.

Personally, I started thinking about why we celebrate Christmas at all. Not to be cynical-I love Christmas as much as the next person-but we place so much (albeit, commercial) importance on Christmas, and virtually none on the events surrounding Easter. After thinking about it for a while I thought about how glad I was that Easter isn't as commercialized. Wouldn't it be terrible if the focus of the holiday was put on more than just a bunch of jelly beans? Back to Christmas-I started thinking about A Christmas Carol after that and why it's a Christmas story at all beyond the fact that it takes place at Christmas. Now, I'm sure many have had this thought before me but it really hit me today in light of the question that was asked in church that the reason we celebrate Christmas is because the birth of the Savior was the dawn of a new brightness of hope in a world that had none. The birth of Christ led to the death of Christ, and the resurrection of Christ after that. There is a reason why Christmas is such a joyful time of the year. It is because it is a celebration of life, and hope of better days to come through His light.

This optimistic thought in mind, I really enjoyed the rest of today. We had a lovely family dinner and watched a movie together and just enjoyed one another's company. Later after most of the kids were off either in bed or watching a movie in the den, we started as adults (ha! I call myself an adult. Well-I'm not a kid) to talk about the past year and eventually got on the subject of how sad it is that schools aren't allowed to celebrate Christmas any more. There's a school district in Minnesota that doesn't allow kids to wear red or green during the month of December, for example. My elementary school at home can't have a Christmas program any more, they have a "winter" program, even though the school is at least 90% Christian. In light of that and several other things that have come up in the last year (a co-ed sleep over in my brother's show choir, for example), my dad has become fairly pessimistic about the condition of the world, especially for teenagers. And who could really blame him? There is so much evil in the world. It is available everywhere we turn. One need only open a newspaper and read the front page to see it. Turn on the internet or open a magazine and all you see is scantily clad celebrities with insane love lives. And these are the role models for youth? Even at my apartment complex-a place that is sponsored by BYU-we hear loud parties every night with at least 90% of the songs about sex and drugs. The 13th Article of Faith talks about finding things that are virtuous, lovely, of good report and praiseworthy-but finding such things in the world is hard. I'm not saying it's impossible. Anyone who knows me really well will know that the absurdity of my movie knowledge knows very few bounds. I'm just commenting for the sake of conversation that the world is bleak. Teens are presented with options for little outside of sex and drugs (and usually both).

However terrible the world is-I refuse to lose sight of my optimism. President Hinkley is one of the most optimistic men on this earth, and one of the very few men on earth who is able to comprehend the evil in the world. We are told that men are that they might have joy. I was watching Lord of the Rings the other day and thinking about Sam's quote about why they are still fighting to destroy the ring when Middle Earth is full of such evil-he says it is because there *is* still good in the world, and that good is worth fighting for. The way I see it (and the way Sean Astin sees it too if you watch the commentary), the word fighting should be in quotes. Fighting doesn't necessarily mean through violence. I see it as men striving to do good in a world that may reject it no matter what the odds are.

Throughout history there are examples of men who made a difference as an individual. Hitler, for example, was able to pull an entire nation down because he was a terrible, selfish leader. On the other hand, men like Gandhi were able to pull thousands of people out of despair and into a better life. No matter how evil the world is, it will never be so evil that we should stop looking for the joy in it. There are so many good people left in the world. I will not give up. God has promised that he will not remove the church from the earth again. If I have the gospel in my life, then I have hope. And if I have hope, then I truly can find happiness in a world that lives in a state of misery (whether they know it or not). Tolkien really did have it right-the good that is left in this world is worth fighting for, even if we are fighting a losing battle.

The great thing there, of course, is that we know we'll win the war, so losing all the battles doesn't matter all that much in the great scheme of things. All the best wars were like that (Revolutionary War, for example)...

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope that you are able to find joy no matter the circumstances.

SHE LIVES!

The writer in me (and the Liz in me) is pretty upset that it's been almost a MONTH since I said anything. But trust me when I tell you that I've had very few spare moments open to write-and the spare moments I did have were either dedicated to sleep, or to the now religious watching of BBC's Robin Hood (curse them for not having season 2 until next October!). But I have returned, oh ye faithful readers-never fear.

So today has definitely been the complete reverse of a Jonah Day. Not only did I finally manage an A on a Brit Lit 291 test (her tests are beastly), but I finished my last paper/project for British Lit, I attended my last American Lit class (thank heaven), and I got officially accepted to my study abroad program. Could more things go right?! I suppose I could meet the man of my dreams but I think I'll be alright settling for a nap that I'm going to take later today when I get home from work. Furthermore-I'm not setting my alarm. I'm going to get up when I darn well please tonight. Talk about victory!

Alright, now on to business. My latest rant. Oh boy!

We were talking in (what else but my British Lit class) about the different kinds of love (again) in respect to Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. I have a fair amount of Marianne in me-anyone who has known me long enough would know this-but when it comes to love I am definitely more Elinor. I dream like Marianne, my reality is Elinor. Anyway-we were talking about how the book never really comes to a consensus on what kind of love (sensible, platonic love or romantic love with lots of feeling) is better. The novel clearly favors Elinor over Marianne, but in the end it is Marianne who marries the real hero (Brandon). Both girls have to take on the characteristics of each other in order to find their matches. In the end, I kind of came to the conclusion that the book promotes sense in order to fall in love (Elinor and Edward at the beginning of the book and Marianne's epiphany later), and sensibility in order to stay in love (the scene where Elinor reveals her love for Edward and the comment about Marianne never loving by halves). Whether or not there is any real truth to that, I don't know (having very little experience myself. And by very little I mean none). But I can see the merit in the idea-we need to have a bit of logic when it comes to choosing a partner. We can't not think about the important things (shared value system, for example) in favor of a spur of the moment romance. But romantic love is important too-it's what keeps a relationship full of the respect, admiration, and service needed to maintain a love.

Anyway. There it is. I'm off to go do something exciting and thoroughly NON school related to celebrate my end of term catharsis!