The End of an Era

My childhood is coming to an end in the most profound way imaginable – with a movie franchise. But honestly, it’s not just any franchise, it’s Harry freaking Potter. The Chosen One. The Boy Who Lived. Potty wee Potter. We’ve both grown up, and it’s time to part ways. But I’m not leaving his side without a fight. No way, no how. I’m taking the last stand at the Battle of Hogwarts. just like all of our classmates.

That’s right, our classmates. Because I was there, right along with him. Ever wonder why you don’t know all of the girls’ names in Harry’s year in Gryffindor house? Because one of them is me. Hermione, Parvati, Lavender, and Molly. Fit right in, don’t I?

And I’m trying really hard to keep my cool about the release of the final film. Though I know that I’m going to fail spectacularly, I have to at least try. Because, for the rest of the week, if not the entire summer, I’ll just be a blubbering mess.

The other day my brother said I used to be obsessed with Harry Potter. I thought it funny he used the past tense. I pointedly corrected him, saying that I am still very much obsessed with it and not at all ashamed. He found that odd, as he was used to using “Harry Potter fan” as a disparaging remark. He never really got Harry Potter, preferring JRR Tolkein’s world of Hobbits. To each his own, I guess, but I’ll stick with the wizarding world of Harry Potter, thank you very much. We got into a discussion of which world was superior, which characters stronger, who would reign supreme in a fight. (The wizards, obviously. All you need is the flick of the wand, and besides, Harry’s got the sword of Gryffindor on his side.)

One of my ongoing struggles with my dad is my seemingly futile attempt to get him to understand just how big a part Harry Potter has played in my life. I once told him that the best prank he ever could have played on me would have been to give me a fake acceptance letter to Hogwarts. He could’ve filmed it. My reaction would have been worth over a million hits on YouTube, easily. Because you better believe I waited for my letter. Not just when I was eleven, but until I was 20. I’ve now resigned myself to the fact that I’m probably just a Squib.

Anne and I have had many a conversation about Harry Potter, as well. Our topics of discussion would range from what house we’d be in to what classes we’d take. (Obviously I’m a Gryffindor, but I wouldn’t shirk away from being placed in Ravenclaw. Anne’s somewhere between a Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw.) My favorite topics of thought tend to be what classes I’d get to take if I went to Hogwarts. Of course I’d take all of the basic, required courses, but when you get into your 3rd year at Hogwarts, you also sign up for some electives. Choices include: Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Whereas Anne would pull a Hermione and take all of them, I would restrain myself to Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.

The thing that I don’t understand about Harry Potter, (that’s not true, there’s a whole litany of things coming in a different post) is how every muggle-born student doesn’t excel at their schoolwork? How could they not be so freaking excited about being magical that they wouldn’t devour every book placed in front of them? That they wouldn’t practice every spell, charm, enchantment, and jinx until they nailed it. Because that’s what I’d be like. I’d be another Hermione Granger and I would never, ever apologize for it.

I can’t fathom not being a complete geek about Harry Potter or his world. I let it pull me in like it was Devil’s Snare. Because Harry Potter has a real world, it’s just not tangible. I’ve been a part of the world for the last eleven years and I don’t plan on leaving any time soon. I’ll know the spells, the secret passageways in Hogwarts, Mr. Filch’s list of banned items, the members of the Order of the Phoenix. I’ll cower away from Fluffy and those damned Blast-Ended Skrewts. I’ll defend Neville and Luna, jinx Pansy Parkinson, and punch Draco Malfoy. I’ll attempt to disarm the Death Eaters I happen across. I’ll drive away dementors and obliterate boggarts. I’ll keep Hagrid and Fang company and be a faithful customer at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Hell, I’d probably have been one of their test subjects during the early days of their Skiving Snackboxes. (That’s not true, there’s too much Hermione in me; I’d try and confiscate their goods for my own nefarious purposes.) I’ll have an Arnold, a Crookshanks, and a Hedwig. I’ll own stock in sugar quills and always have a bottle of color-changing ink handy. But I will never, ever, buy that putrid pink parchment that the deplorable Dolores Umbridge favored. Oh, and I’ll own a broomstick, but I still haven’t decided between the new Cleansweep or the new Nimbus yet.

After tomorrow night, once I’ve seen the final premiere, can someone just come over and obliviate my memory? That way, I can enjoy Harry Potter again, just as if it were the first time. Otherwise I’ll just be here, sobbing. Because it’s the end of an era, dammit. At least I’ll have Pottermore to look forward to.

Gambino is a Mastermind

For as much as I love music, I never go to concerts. Honestly, I’ve only ever been to two in my life. One was in August of 2008 when I went with my brother to see Radiohead at Blossom Music Center. The second was Sunday night when I went with Amanda to see Donald Glover / Childish Gambino at the Black Cat in DC.

Even though I finished with finals on Thursday of last week, I stuck around DC three extra days so I could see the sold-out concert. It was a great decision. He delivered a nice blend of stand-up with rap.  Donald Glover spent about a half an hour doing jokes about Justin Beiber, Reggie Bush, and being co-workers with Ken Jeong and Alison Brie.

The second part of his act, after a brief interlude of a couple videos reminiscent of his time with Derrick Comedy, was his music. He rapped and sang for a solid hour. Most of his songs were tracks from his self-released EP.  The nice thing about a Childish Gambino show is that it’s not just him standing up with a producer on a computer in the background making beats. Instead, he’s got a drummer, bassist, violin player, and guitarist/computer mixer. His clever lines make it pretty obvious he’s got a brain in his head. I mean, the guy did graduate from Tisch School of the Arts with a degree in Dramatic Writing. He also had a job writing for 30 Rock before he was 25. A fact which he references during one of his songs.  A lot of people give Glover flak for being a “white rapper.” And, while he did write a lot of material for Jack Donaghy, and despite a pasty-skinned girl from the suburbs like me liking him, the crowd was pretty diverse.

In the end, he performed a high-energy show. I laughed, I danced, I sang along. Okay, and maybe I ogled a bit, too. What’s a girl to do? But all in all, he put on a great show. I’d go see him again in a heartbeat. A very quick, fluttery, excited heartbeat that belies how very in love with him I am.

It’s fine.

This is a video of him performing at the Black Cat during the encore. No, my spot wasn’t quite as good. I was about three rows of people back and stage left. And, yes, he did the entire encore shirtless. It was the best going away present ever.

Of the White House Correspondents Dinner, circa 2011

I think it’s a bit of an understatement, but I’m just going to put it out there. Last weekend was pretty eventful. Seriously, jam-packed. Friday was “bandquet” at the Prime Rib. It was as fun as it was delicious. Sunday night the world at large received the news that Osama bin Laden had been shot and killed in a mansion outside of Islamabad, Pakistan. And then there was Saturday…

I think there should be an actual holiday declared for the last Saturday of April, because it was wonderful and magical and exhilarating. While I’m not actually one for celebrity gossip, I had an amazing time running around DC. Because, governmental or religious recognition or not, Saturday was a holiday and the best one of them all: the day of the White House Correspondent’s Dinner.

The day began with Amanda and I running (figuratively) from campus to the White House all the way to Georgetown to see if we could spot Matthew Morrison with his bff Chace Crawford. Amanda is a little bit in love with Matt Morrison. And, though we scoured the city for the two gorgeous fellows for a good part of the afternoon, we did not find them. But not for lack of trying.

In the evening, Rachel, Amanda and I started walking towards Dupont Circle so that we could hang out at the Washington Hilton, for that’s where the dinner is held.  A surprising number of attendees don’t get dropped off in front of the hotel, but actually just walk up Connecticut Avenue, in gowns and tuxes alike.

The event was exciting for me because for one I was included. I got to spend a wonderful evening with Rachel and Amanda. Also… I’ve never really seen famous people before in real life (discounting politicians, just because.) In the end, this is a list of those stars we saw that I was able to identify. Just for kick’s I’ll compile subgroups:

• Political – George Stephanopolous’ hair, Bristol Palin, Newt Gingrich, Donald Trump, Colin Powell, Madeline Albright, Bill O’Reilly
• SNL – Andy Samberg, Bill Heder, Jason Sudeikis, Amy Poehler & Fred Armisen
• The Hangover – Bradley Cooper, Zach Galifinakis, the groom
• Other: Chris Colfer, Nina Dobrev & Ian Somerhalder, Omar Epps, Jeremy Piven, Mila Kunis, Jon Hamm, Chelsea Handler, Selma Hayek, Alisa Milano, Michelle Trachtenberg, Rashida Jones, Kenneth the Page, Paula Abdul, Rosario Dawson, and Ryan Kwanten

The most frustrating part of the evening probably came from having to wait for the President’s motorcade. No one can enter the building and the entrances have to be cleared. This happened not only when he arrived, but when he left as well. And, sure, it’s cool to see the President, but we really only end up staring at his motorcade, willing it to just move already. Regardless, it was a fun night. We’ve got big plans for next year and even grander for 2013.

For your entertainment:

Look at Your Life, Look at Your Choices

Poor Roommate probably has to deal with my bursting into her room once every two weeks to listen to a rant about how I’ve abandoned all of my hopes and dreams for a new career path. Well, not all my hopes and dreams, but a significant portion nonetheless. Some things, like my excitement to study abroad and explore Brighton, the UK and the rest of Europe (5 months and counting!), will never change. But I’d say that I reconsider my education and career paths at least twice a month.

At its base, planning for the future is my inherent form of procrastination. And let me tell you, since the beginning of this school year I’ve turned it into an art form. I vacillate between post-graduate plans like a four-year-old trying to decide which type of candy bar to buy at the grocery store. So far I’ve switched between wanting to go to grad school for a Master’s in public policy to just going to law school. Then I made the brilliant cognitive leap that I could enroll in a dual-degree program – two birds, one stone! But, hmm, I thought. That may be a little time-consuming. (Not to mention expensive.) Besides, what would I even do with a law degree? Open a bowling alley?

Then I thought – what do I love more than anything? The immediate answer was writing. But, see, I have this crippling fear (which is probably fairly accurate) that I’m really not all that creative. Or funny. Also, if you’ve ever met me, you know that I can’t tell a story to save my life. Granted I’m better with a pen and paper than verbally, but no matter; I can’t imagine myself completely losing my joy for writing. The logical conclusion was “Oh, I should get a degree in creative writing.” But that begs the question: What the hell would I do with that? Apparently there are also degrees in Professional Writing. That at least sounds like a degree with which I could potentially, maybe, once-the-economy-turns-around, eventually swindle some sap into giving me a job. Also, there are some fantastic universities in England which offer those kinds of degrees. Yes, please?

Last week Roommate had to deal with yet another flip-flop. As much as I would love to write for a television show, I cannot fathom how I could ever possibly find a job. That doesn’t mean I won’t necessarily try, just that I have absolutely no clue where to begin. I have realized, though, that I am fairly limit-less when it comes to genres; I have a working knowledge of every stylistic show, except, perhaps reality. I think that I would make a fantastic continuity editor. Seriously, I already watch tv like it’s my job. You know what else I love? Taking notes. Why not combine the two and actually make a job out of it?

At times I question whether I would find a career in television fulfilling. Could I do something like that every day for the rest of my life and feel like I’ve made a significant impact on society? Maybe, maybe not. Regardless, what are my chances of accomplishing that in any given profession? Slim to none. No matter what, I hope I’ll look back more fondly on my career decisions than some of these guys.

Here’s a song from one of my favorite shows – Veronica Mars.

Midterms Are Here and I’m Still Smiling

Despite that it’s midterm season, I’m in a pretty good mood. I’ve reconciled with the fact that I’ll be spending most of this evening reading, underlining, highlighting, memorizing and, quite possibly, flash-carding. It’s fine. I’ve also got to come up with a paper topic and clear another with a professor. Then study some more, write a literary review, yadda yadda yadda, no one cares.

You can’t bring me down. The weather is perfect: it’s 60 degrees and raining with a dash of thunderstorm thrown in. I couldn’t be happier. Also, we’re getting a dorm guest at the end of this week. Amanda’s best friend is spending his spring break in DC and staying in my room. It’s basically going to be a week-long slumber party. I couldn’t be more thrilled. And, while he really get’s here on Friday, it’s not actually that far away, because, as Amanda edified me: Tuesday’s doesn’t count, because sometimes it’s a leap year. Perfectly logical.

But maybe my favorite thing that I’ve discovered recently is this site, Save the Words. It’s basically a project trying to keep more obscure words in use. You can adopt a word, get a word on a t-shirt, learn stuff. It’s just the best.

This Day Exploded into Awesomeness

Everything is the best. Today has been one of my favorite days in recent memory. I couldn’t stop smiling all day. I woke up at a reasonable hour (before 10am), and stayed productive throughout the day. I applied for my passport so that I can finally study abroad (UK or bust!), was the 2nd person in line at Chipotle the entire day, had great classes, found out that Demetri Martin is coming to DC in April, and, to top it all off, it was 65 degrees today. Absolutely beautiful.

Then, when I got home, I found Rachel and Amanda watching Friends in my room. A delightful turn of events. We ordered dinner and at 7:30 we tuned into Jeopardy!, one of my favorite shows (minus Alex Trebek, obviously.) To make it better, it was the premier of the IBM super-competitor, Watson. If Amanda and I were to team up, we would dominate him. Then we settled in with a new episode of HIMYM. Somewhere in the middle of all of this, I found out that Radiohead is releasing a new album this weekend!!! Could life get any better? Yes!, because I also got to go on a virtual tour of the University of Sussex campus. Nothing could have made me happier today. Except, perhaps, a round of golf.

Something else that makes me happy:

Impulse Control

The day of reckoning has finally arrived. This is a sad day, friends. You see, my premonition came true. As of yesterday, Hulu has finally called it quits with Stargate SG-1. Luckily for me, Amanda wanted to go on an impulse drive this weekend. Who was I to turn down a golden opportunity of riding in a car? I’m not one to look a gift-horse in the mouth. Not when it involves road trips with a good friend and great music.

So, off to Virginia we went. And we only had to pull one U-turn. But, all too soon we arrived at our destination – the late-night Wal-Mart. This was our opportunity to go shopping and buy as much as we wanted without having lug it around the Metro.

Now, you can’t go shopping with Amanda without looking at the $5 DVDs. She talked me into getting Music & Lyrics and bought herself Casper. But the best was just around the corner: that’s right, Stargate DVDs. Bundles of 2 seasons for just $20 each. I am now the proud owner of the first four seasons of my favorite show of all time. And I couldn’t be happier.

Now I can finally play that drinking game I made up…

Have you met me?

I’m going to preface this post by disclaiming that I really don’t drink that much. Or that often, really. That didn’t stop one of my close friends from thinking I was wasted the other night. Really, I just suck at cover stories.

See, it was my friend’s birthday earlier this month and my roommate and I wanted to throw her a surprise party. To prepare, Roommate spent hours in the room, baking pie and lemon bars, cleaning, and hanging a sign. The place looked great. Unfortunately, during the decorating process, Birthday-girl (Amanda) knocked on our door. Roommate was on top of her desk, in the middle of hanging decorations. We were screwed. Our plan was about to be foiled, the surprise ruined. And it all fell on me to distract the birthday girl. For future reference, never let me come up with a cover story.

So, Amanda knocks on the door and I open it a crack – just enough to stick my head out. She already seems weirded out by my behavior – our door is almost always open.

“Hi?” Yup, this is going swimmingly. “Can I come in?”

I froze. Completely locked up. “No?”

“What’s going on?” Amanda wanted to know.

“Nothing? Amanda’s… you’re Amanda.” I even pointed at her. “Anne’s climbing.”

“Climbing or crying?”

“Climbing?” I say. Then I cursed myself mentally. I should have gone with crying. I could say that Roommate was crying and didn’t want to be disturbed. But then Amanda would be worried, so that was a no-go as well.

“Why?”

“I don’t know… She’s Anne.” That’s a better explanation than you’d think.

“Okaaay. Well, can I come in?” By this point, for the record, I had squeezed my way into the hallway and closed the door behind me.

“Uhhhh…”

“I mean, I could avert my eyes and just go straight to your room?”

“Yeah. Okay.” I nodded fervently. “That should be okay.”

So justlikethat we squeeze through the foyer and dart into my room. I giddily show her the picture of Donald Glover my mom had sent in my care package and we play some Mario Kart before she has to leave.

She arrived for her party at the same time as one of our guests. Luckily, she had forgotten her access card to the building and he could let her in. He played it cool, followed her inside to hang out for a bit, and didn’t blow his cover at all.

But she walked in, we all popped out and she was surprised. Success!

Roommate and I told her we were sure the jig was up when we wouldn’t let her in earlier. “Oh,” she said. “I just thought Molly was drunk.”

I’m Terrible at Birthday Wishes

Mid-January is always a bit of a busy time for me. I have to readjust to life in DC, start all my classes, figure out my work schedule, celebrate my birthday, and this year go to GW basketball games as a member of the band. To make matters worse, this is a 17 credit semester. That’s the most you can take. I’m not complaining, I like all of my classes.

But. Anyway. January, right. Birthday-times. I’m now 20. I’m not sure how I feel about this. It’s kind of blowing my mind. I’m not a teenager anymore. I’ve officially embarked on the third decade of my life.

At the same time, 20 seems to be the most useless age I can imagine. 16′s cool because you get to drive. 17′s nice because it’s your last year at home, last year to pull shenanigans without the repercussion of being arrested and charged as an adult. 18 you get to vote!!! 19 is good for getting drunk in Canada. And everyone knows that at 21 you can drink. But at 20, well, there’s really nothing beneficial being thrown your way. It’s just a big milestone number with no milestones associated with it. At least I got a good birthday and two cakes out of the bargain.

I had a great time. I brought in my 20th birthday playing Mario Kart and Super Smash brothers with some friends and my “exuberant” RA. Then we watched Family Guy. When I woke up again after officially turning 20 (January 17, 10:01 am) I went to see my advisor to get the greenlight for my study abroad plans. Then Amanda and I played Mario Kart for a solid 4 hours before heading to dinner with a huge group at Fuddruckers, eating a special-made triple-layer heart-shaped chocolate chip cake with chocolate icing. It was heaven.

But maybe the best gift that could have been given me that day (aside from Anne’s wonderfully beautiful birthday card) was getting a happy birthday tweet from Joshua Malina. He has the same birthday as me, don’t ya know? (So do Muhammad Ali and Michelle Obama, but Josh Malina, guys!!!) I mean, Will Bailey himself tweeted me happy birthday.

Best day ever. Honestly, it was a great day. I even got to make ridiculous birthday demands and vetoes. For a person who doesn’t like the spotlight all that much, the power was kind of fun.

Thanks, everyone, for the wonderful day. Now, a gift for you:

I have big dreams for this year. Let’s hope that at least a few of them come true!

Adulation: My love letter to Community.

2010 wasn’t completely terrible. I had some good times. I mean, of course some really, really terrible things happened, too. I could waste your time by listing them all, but someone’s already done it, and I promise, she did a much funnier job than I ever could. Check it out.

Anyway, I’ve had a few good discoveries of 2010. One of my favorites was Twitter. It’s not that I didn’t realize that it existed, so much as I thought it wasn’t for me. Boy, was I wrong. I love that site.

Two of my other great discoveries were both Community related. I don’t know why I didn’t give it a chance before, but I wish I had. It’s hilarious. I guess it was because I never really watched The Soup, so I had no appreciation for Joel McHale. And the latest project I’d seen of Chevy Chase’s was, quite possibly Caddyshack. (That’s not counting Hot Tub Time Machine, because he wasn’t a main character. And, for the record, I love Caddyshack.)

But now that I’ve seen it, I’m sold. Joel McHale. Love him. Donald Glover. Love him. Danny Pudi. Love him. And all the rest? Love ‘em. I mean, you stick Jon Oliver in your pilot episode, it’s pretty much destined that I’ll love the show. You make an episode entirely claymation? I’ll write you an ode.

The characters are all fantastic. I especially have a soft spot for Abed, with his intensive pop culture knowledge. And Britta was dear to me as soon as she admitted that she dropped out of high school because she thought it’d impress Radiohead. Troy is just adorable and Jeff is quite possibly the coolest guy at Greendale.

I’m also thankful that Community gave me another new discovery: The 88. They do the theme song for the show and I kind of love it. They make a halfway decent Pandora station, too. (Pandora, another new discovery of 2010. Thanks to Amanda.)

Okay, love letter over. But I will gift you with a compilation of end-tags from the show.