God Gave Me A Butterfly

God gave me a butterfly

To love, and in return love me

Because I was sad and lonely

He said “That’s not how life should be.”

 

God gave me a butterfly

Then told me to set it free

I cried and cried and asked Him why

He said “That’s how grace should be.”

 

So I let go of my butterfly

The one God had given me

After all, it was His, not my butterfly

He only lent it to me

 

God gave me a butterfly

And I loved it genuinely

Then I let it go so it could grow

He said “That’s how love should be.”

 

-Aja Dev

 

 



19th Century Love

I couldn't let this year end without paying homage to one of the greats. One of the sweetest novels ever written. 2013 marks the 200th anniversary of Jane Austen's 'Pride and Prejudice' and it's amazing that after 200 years people of all ages still read this book and fall in love with it over and over again. Definitely one of the immortal classics.

19th century writers knew love better than anyone. Find me a 21st century romance novel in which the main couple not only don't have sex but barely touch at all and it might take you a while. Nowadays half of love seems to be lust. But in 1812, a glance, a waltz or a quick exchange of a few words could send your heart racing like 6 chapters of 50 Shades. And Elizabeth Bennett and Mr.Darcy's non-physical romance will always give me butterflies and make me blush. Without completely turning me on. Because there is more to romance than turning someone on. It's that strange, stressful, impatient panicky feeling you get in your chest. That's your heart losing its shit.

In my recent years I've met a guy. He wasn't like most guys. My time with him was brief but wonderful. When all was said and done and I look back, what I had with this guy of mine was very similar to a 19th century novel. We talked for hours. We held hands. We fell asleep next to each other once. We shared glances that still haunt me. There wasn't even a kiss I could tell you about. But to this day he still has more of me than a guy who could tell you my most intimate details. Sometimes I get sad because that guy isn't around anymore. But mostly I smile because I know what a 19th century love feels like. A real love. Real feelings that creep out from the inside. Not the kind that come in from the outside. It's an inner peace and at the same time inner chaos. It's like a Jane Austen novel. I wish more writers today knew how to make you feel that way without sex on top of sex. Don't get me wrong, I'm the first to holler that something is missing a sex scene! But that's because if a story teller just isn't making me feel it for real, the yearning and the panicky feeling in my heart, a sex scene is a good way to fake it. But in 1812 they never needed to fake it. They knew what love was about. And they sure knew how to write about it.

Writing Matters

Yesterday, the beautiful people at The Office of Letters and Light, a literary non-profit I've followed for years launched a beautiful new campaign. It's called Writing Matters and they have called for writers everywhere to share our very 1st stories. I've spent the last 24 hours searching Twitter, Instagram and Tumblr for the #My1stStory and #WritingMatters hashtags and I've been loving it! Some wrote their 1st story when they were 4 years old. Others, just last year.

I wrote my 1st story when I was 13 years old. I was in 8th grade and I had to make a collection of poems. The last poem in the collection was allowed to be a freestyle so I wrote a page long story. It was in the form of a poem, rhyming and everything. It was about a young girl (me) who was visited every night by a boy who always wore the color blue. This boy took me all over the world on wild adventures. There was so much more to the story that I couldn't put into the poem for fear of it being too long. These adventures in my story were so vivid, story-me could never tell in the morning whether they were real or just a dream. My teacher liked my story so much she asked if she could keep it for her future students to see, as a touchstone for how this project should be done. Flattered, I consented. But over the years I would miss it very much.

 

 

My 1st story, which I even wrote in blue ink, was closely based on my favorite story as a kid; Peter Pan. For my entire childhood my favorite color was always green. Maybe because Peter Pan wore green? But for some reason the boy in my story wore blue. I never associated the shift in color to this story at all but when I was 14 years old, everything in my life switched from green to blue. To this day my favorite color is blue. None of this color stuff matters at all, I just think it's funny. Looking back, The Boy In Blue represented everything I wanted out of life; Just one friend I could trust with all of the parts of my heart. Adventure beyond my imagination and seeing all of the world's wonders. A life so simple and beautifully fulfilling I'd have a hard time believing it weren't dream. All of that was my life's wish at 13 years old and I didn't know how else to say it but to put in into a small story.

 

During my sophomore year in college I was having a hard time figuring out my life. I was an Environmental Science major with a biology concentration. I had wanted to be a Zoologist one day but everyday I woke up in my small dorm room and couldn't make those shoes fit. Over my winter break I came home to Philly and visited my 8th grade teacher who still had the Boy In Blue sitting in her dusty filing cabinet. But he wasn't dusty at all. She had held on to him for 6 years for me. she'd been reading him to all of her students over the years. Just thinking about it, I'm still filled with more gratitude than I could ever express. When I returned to campus after winter break I immediately dropped all of my science classes and took on all English and anthropology courses. After that spring semester I transferred to Community college in Philly and pursued a certificate in creative writing. I can't honestly say I would have made that switch in life had I not been revisited by the Boy, who reminded me what I want out of life.

 

When I wrote my 1st story I felt in my bones for the very 1st time that I was good at something. I found something that made me feel like a giant; writing. In those 6 years without him I had lost myself. But I found myself again on that single page covered in blue ink when I went back for him that winter. If it weren't for the Boy In Blue I would be a scientist right now. Not that there's anything wrong with scientists, only I'd be lying to my heart for the rest of my life.

 

Writing matters because we build ourselves through our work. And when we lose ourselves, we find ourselves again in our own pages. Writing matters because sometimes writing is the only way we can say what we need to say. A story can tell you what I can't put into a sentence or a song or a gesture.

 

This was a beautiful campaign, NaNo people! Thanks for taking me back to where I began. And you're right...

 

Writing Matters.

 

 

The Biggest Thing We've Ever Done

There were three factors that would make Martin Luther King Jr. day of service different from our other service days. For one, it would be our biggest service day of the year. We were aiming for 900 volunteers total. Two; we would be serving at two separate sights: Gompers elementary school and Beeber middle school. This meant that everyone on my team had double the work load. For John, he had to recruit for two sites. Catie had to handle logistics for two sites. And the third factor making MLK Day different from our other events; Lauren & I who share the role of planning, designing, leading prep for & facilitating our service events would be divided among the two sites and working alone.

John & I were working on a service event in Houston, Texas when we secured Gompers as an MLK Day site & Lauren began planning the day. Almost two weeks after we were back, we scored Beeber. Since Lauren was already well into planning for Gompers, I was given the title of service leader for Beeber.

Let's fast forward to January; the holidays are over. I have two weeks until MLK Day. The principal, program manager and team leader at Beeber can't make up their minds about anything so none of my documents can be completed. In-school prep is scheduled to start right about now and I'm completely baffled about what I'm even doing. And to top it all off; I have no Lauren. I'm alone.

Fast forward again. January 21st, 2013. 8:30pm. I'm completely discombobulated. They say we had an extremely successful MLK Day. We had over 1200 volunteers total. 772 at Beeber alone. Over 500 at Gompers. Every single one of my projects were completed, no need to return to either school over the next few weeks to complete or touch up anything (which is a lot more than we can say about our last project). No major messes. I didn't run out of paint (again, more than I can say about my last project). Almost everyone had a good time. So why am I still completely discombobulated at a time when I should finally be able to breathe?

Looking back, I'm sure everyone remembers the opening program. The Beeber school step team and the motivational speeches. They remember the upbeat corps members leading them through inspiring service. They remember the presidential inauguration being streamed in the auditorium. They remember the free t-shirts and the high spirits on a day that only comes once a year.

But for me, this was a day that would only come once in my life. Never again will I be able to lead a large MLK service event (if given the opportunity I wouldn't even want to). For me this day should've been all of the above and more. But looking back all I can remember is no one having my back. I remember being pushed around. I remember my own work being changed and switched up behind my back and not knowing until after the fact. I remember pressure on top of pressure and no hugs or pats on the back. Not pats on the back for praise, but simple encouragement. I remember being alone on everything. Until something went wrong. Then I remember having everyone's attention. I remember getting all of the blame for everything. Not that anyone would say it to my face. But grape vines don't stretch all that far around here. Blame did actually belong to me, I own it. But I haven't been doing this for years. I've been doing it for four months. I remember no one having my back.

I remember John taping an uplifting fortune cookie fortune to my computer screen. Someone did have my back.

This was a once in a lifetime event for me. But all I can remember is feeling extremely small. And on January 21st at 8:30pm when I should've been taking my first breath in weeks and celebrating the biggest thing we've ever done... I still couldn't figure out how to breathe and all I felt was angry. And still very small.

But to everyone else, MLK Day 2013 was the biggest thing we've ever done. And it was very successful. So I'm told.

The Longest Stride

I had registered for two Rock N' Roll marathons before. One in Virginia Beach and one in San Diego and I didn't make it to either. But this past September I finally ran my very 1st half marathon. I estimated that I would finish in 3 hours and 40 minutes. I was in the 23rd corral, the very last group to take off. Philadelphia is the perfect place for a first race because the course is flat, thank God. I was nervous because in the last 8 weeks leading up to the race I barely had any time to train and only ran once or twice a week. The most I had ever ran was 8 miles. But there I was on a cool Sunday morning attempting to run 13.1.

There were about 2,000 of us running. There were people everywhere. There were spots along the course that were quiet and eerie and spots that were crowded with cheering spectators. High fives seemed to keep me going. All was well for a long while. I felt great, even at the 8.5 mark where I saw my mom and sister cheering before the strawberry mansion bridge. When I hit double digits I was overwhelmed with a sense of pride and accomplishment because at 10 miles I knew I was going to do this. But at mile 11 I knew I was going to break. At mile 11 my muscles seemed to just realize what was going on. Everything hurt and I took my 1st break (besides a potty break at mile 7). I wanted to stop. I was so close and I wanted so badly to just be there already. So close. Only 2 miles to go.

I took off and held on tight. Closer and closer and closer until.....

 

2 hours, 23 minutes and 59 seconds!

Red

This month I started my second AmeriCorps term. 9 months after finishing my NCCC term I've traded in my gray service garments for red. City Year red. City Year was founded in Boston in 1988. The organization works in inner city schools to decrease the drop-out rate and keep kids in school and on track to graduation. There are 23 City Year locations throughout the country (with two international affiliates). I am proudly serving at the Greater Philadelphia site. Working with kids is something not yet on my resume and I was very excited (and terrified) to work with 6th - 9th graders everyday. It was actually a test I wanted to put myself through to see if working with kids is something I may want to do in the future. Also, I felt the need before leaving home again to do some sort of public service in Philly. This is my city and I want to help home before I take off again, trying to help everywhere else.

 

I had two specific goals going into this city year. One, my main reason for doing the program was to gain leadership experience, not just to put on a resume but to actually help me learn and grow into a better leader. I wanted to take on responsibility this year. I want to broaden my shouldars so that I can carry any burden placed upon them. And two; When I graduated from NCCC only half the staff knew how to pronounce my name, and that speaks volumes. This year I want to be known, I want the staff of this organization to know who I am.

 



I had met and hung out with a few corps members throughout the summer before training began, so a few faces were already familiar on our first day, August 13th. BTA (Basic Training Academy) would be a 3 week long training process similar to what I went through with NCCC. By biggest challenge with City Year has been trying not to compare it to NCCC. Like in NCCC we received temporary teams during our 1st week, until we got our permanent service teams. My Journey Team, Persepolis is a cool bunch. But we all met up in the mornings, then parted ways at 6pm when the day was done. How are you supposed to bond with people when you're not living together, eating dinner together and going everywhere together? I still don't get it. But I decided very early on not to compare this adventure to the last and take it for what it is. Journey teams reunite every other Friday throughout the year, just to connect, update, vent, share stories, and remain a team through our individual journeys. 

 

 

On the second day of training we had a presentation about alternative roles  and opportunities we could take advantage of this year. One being the Civic Engagement Team. It sounded interesting but I knew I would rather work in a school base, directly with students. But on the third day of training I went to a CE Team info session just for kicks and giggles. I was surprised at how intrigued I was. I would be office based, working directly with staff members, planning service events throughout the year. On the fourth day of training I submitted an application and my resume to be on the CE team. On the fifth day of training I had an interview with Dorothy, the civic engagement program manger. But I was still very torn. On one hand, I really wanted to work with kids, make a difference in a life, walking halls and being a positive presence, holding after school programs. I was very excited for that. On the other hand, I really wanted to plan, organize and facilitate my own service events throughout my city, work directly with the City Year staff. I was convinced that whichever way fate went, I'd miss out on something. But which ever way fate went, I was excited and ready.

 

We call this a 'Spirit Break'.

Five anxious days passed from the day of my interview and our big team reveal. I don't think there's anything more exciting in life than a team reveal. This is when I would find out what team I'd be on for the rest of the year, be it a school based team or the CE team. Team Reveal City Year style;

 

My journey team stood together and our team leader gave each of us a puzzle piece with a name written on the back. All the other journey teams, same thing. When we were set loose it was a chaotic scene, everyone trying to find thier puzzle piece. The puzzle peice I had belonged to a girl named Katie Beazly. I found her pretty quickly. My puzzle peice was harder to find because I knew whoever had it wouldn't be saying it aloud because they probably didn't know how to pronouce my name. So when I was free of Katie's puzzle peice I began looking in everyones hands for my own. A friend of mine told me, "He has your puzzle piece." I followed the boy she pointed out and took my puzzle peice from his hands. It was a large puzzle piece and I knew instantly what that meant. Small puzzle piece, large team. Large puzzle piece, small team. Right? It was a colorful peice of the Philly sklyline. Next, I had to find people who had puzzle pieces that went with mine. I wandered around aimlessly for a while, while all around me large groups of corps members were putting the puzzle pieces together, building their service teams. Finally I saw one guy, talk, dark hair, wandering aimlessly and a colorful piece of Philly skyline in his hand. I tapped him on his shouldar and told him, "Hey, I think we go together." And indeed, Our pieces fit together perfectly. And he introduced himself as John. About 2 minutes later, my Persepolis teammate, Lauren walked up to us with another colorful piece of Philly skyline. It fit perfectly with our puzzle and the puzzle was 3/4 of the way complete. Lauren and I hugged because we knew we were the new Civic Engagement team. After a few more minutes of wondering around looking for our fourth piece, Dorothy collected us and lead us over to Catie, our fourth teammate and Lakeya, our team leader and we found a quiet place to sit, talk and get to know each other.

 

 

 

Fast Forward; 3 weeks later. BTA is complete. Today was our Red Jacket ceremony, during which every single corps member, all 255 of us stood on stage with our teams and one by one dedicated our red jacket and the year ahead to someone/something special to us. Once we said into the mic who we were dedicating our jacket to, we then slipped our jackets on. Then when the entire team had their jackets on, we zipped them up in unison then did a spirit break before exiting stage left and letting the next team come up to dedicate.

 

Adventures come in all shapes and sizes. And colors. And this one is red.

 

All Is Well

It has been 5 years since the final Harry Potter book was released. I could write a long, emotional blog entry about my life post Potter but I won't. When the books were all read I clung to the movies, then when the movies were all seen I was certain the great Harry Potter ride was at it's end. I noticed the 5 year anniversary was approaching as well as the one year anniversary of the last movie's release and I couldn't believe so much time had passed so swiftly.

                   

I was asked on the 5 year anniversary of the final Harry Potter book if life post potter was as depressing as I imagined. Honestly, it's not depressing at all. Looking back and even looking ahead I'm realizing that what I thought was ending is something that will actually never end. Ever. The world of Harry Potter has come to life in ways I didn't imagine 5 years ago. The fanbase only got stronger. Not only is there a book series for me to relive, there's movies to watch over and over again. There is MuggleNet.com. There are Quidditch leagues. There is The Wizarding World of Harry Potter theme park in Orlando, Florida. There is LeakyCon. There is Pottermore. There are more ways NOW to get a Harry Potter fix than there was 5 years ago. I didn't believe her 5 years ago, I thought everything Potter would disappear in time. But I'm now finding comfort in JK Rowlings final words to us, "All was well." Everything Potter is immortal. Indeed, all is well.

Deathly Hallows Midnight Release Party
Barnes & Noble 2007



Deathly Hallows Midnight Premier
July 2011

                                 


 

 

I never thought I'd ever taste real Butterbeer.

Frozen or cold? Both, delicious! Also, I'm a big fan of Pumpkin Juice & Pear Cider.

Owen @ Honeydukes, wrapping up my cauldron cake and pumpkin tart.

Hogwarts @ Universal Studios

Many people have never heard of the annual conference bringing Potter fans, authors, Potter themed live bands & even celebrities together. Different city every year.

                              

                                   Yes. Evanna Lynch. At LeakyCon. 2011.

 

    Annual Quidditch World Cup. NYC.

 

After months and months of pushing back the date, JK Rowling finally released
 Pottermore to the public in April 2012.

<3