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

Born and Raised

The buzz I get from a John Mayer concert is a buzz like no other. There's something about seeing him with my own eyes, hearing his voice not coming through a speaker and knowing that at any moment anything can happen. I live for that.

The new album was set to release on May 22. I'd been waiting for it. The spring tour dates were up and I knew the summer tour dates would be up in a matter of weeks too. This was going to be a good year! I needed another Mayer show. It's been 2 years.

But something was wrong. John's throat granuloma returned. This meant more surgery and long periods of vocal rest. So obviously the tour was canceled. If that wasn't bad enough he announced via Tumblr that he must give up live performing indefinitely because there was no way of knowing when (if at all) he'd be better. I was devastated and still am.

                               

John's 5th studio album was released on May 22nd as planned. One song in particular melted into my heart on the very 1st listen; 'Walt Grace's Submarine Test, January 1967'. The rest of the album wasn't love at first listen for me. It was very different than any previous Mayer. After a week though, I did come to love the new album. Very much. It's full of guilt, acceptance, forgiveness, hope and those wise words I need to get me through the day. And after my love for the album grew, another song tugs at my heartstrings more than any other; 'The Age of Worry'.

                           

Life sets hurdles for us all. Our idols are no exception. The disappointment and heartache I feel at this sad news was probably 10x worse on his end. But I think John Mayer is indeed bigger (and stronger) than his body (and most people) give him credit for. So I have all the faith in the world that he will return to us and one day I'll hear him sing 'Walt Grace' and 'Age of Worry' in person.

Until then I will reminisce on the 1st time I ever saw him live (MLL #5 See JM Live), the last time I saw him live (Camden, July 2010) and every show in between (At the Today Show).

                           
So JM, if you're out there, if you can read me, if my good vibes are reaching you at all, I'm wishing you a speedy recovery. Not just for the sake of seeing you on a stage, but to see you well. Half of my heart is with you, and half of my heart is, as always, waiting to see you again.

            


"Even if this album slides off the charts in a month, it doesn’t make it any less special to me, and we should all be digging this music together, like we would have (and will again) on stage.
Stay tuned…
with thanks and love
John"

Patience & Tolerance

So far, 2012 has been a test. It's been a string of long days weaved into long weeks stacked into long months. Not long like, I've-been-so-busy-and-I'm-exhausted-at-the-end-of-a-long-satisfying-day long. But long like, that day you have absolutely nothing to do, the weather is awful, all your friends are busy, you have a hundred books & movies but don't feel like reading/watching any of them and you just sit with your nose pressed against the window ready for tomorrow & something to do but time is dragging like a 95 year-old's breasts, long. 2012 has been like that day, that kind of long.

Moving back to Philly after a year of traveling, it's like constant ants in my pants. I returned to the job I had in early 2011 and with new management and a new crew, it's not exactly the job I left. A long distance relationship, going back to school after a two-year hiatus, and living at home again. Also, countless interviews, all adding to a pile of disappointments. That's been my 2012 thus far.

Everyday I say a prayer or two and every prayer is pretty much the same. At the end of each prayer I'll tag on any special thanks or requests. In my usual prayer I always ask for patience. But since this year began, in the special request part of my prayer I've been asking for more patience. Triple the patience. Dumptruck loads of patience. And eventually, "All the patience one person can possibly muster, I need it."

Impatience was the reason for my frustration and uneasiness throughout the 1st half of this year, I just knew it. With more patience I'd be better equipped to deal with the new people in my life, new situations, new feelings. No. In the past week, in no particular moment of enlightment, it occurred to me that what I've been seeing as a lack of patience has actually been an over abundance of tolerance. And likewise, there've been situations I've refused to tolerate when I've should've had more patience.

Enter June. The month. Not a person.

If you've never thought aout the difference between patience and tolerance before, it's easy & probably common to see them as one in the same. I think it took for me to reach my frustration limit to see it. But patience is what you use with the things that are out of your control. Tolerance is whats used with things you can control. My advisor during my 1st year of college used to tell me, "Everything in life can fit into one of two categories; Things you can control and things you can't." I'm now finally understanding.

People are tolerated, unless they're a part of your life you can't control, i.e. co-workers. Then you have to just be patient with who they are, without tolerating the things you shouldn't have to. Situations such as the weather or waiting for a job to call you calls for absolute patience. There's nothing you can do to change anything. Somehow 2012 made me forget that I'm one of the most patient people I know. And If I feel otherwise maybe it's not a matter of patience at all. Maybe I'm tolerating something I shouldn't be.

I spent the 1st week of June cutting ties, laying down laws, speaking my mind and unfortunately hurting feelings. But June is finding me a bit less stressed and more free because I'm tolerating so much less & I'm no less patient than I've ever been.

Chasing That Streetcar

If you've been following my booklist this year ( www.ajadev.tumblr.com ) you know all about my new affair with Tennesse Williams. Probably one of the most tragically depressed of all writers, I completely love this guy. Just yesterday my professor compared a classmate of mine to Williams (Tom, as he preferred), and immediately added, "I'm sorry, that's the last writer you want anything in common with. Don't go killing yourself."

There was something just so tragic about Williams. He was famous, wealthy, well liked and esteemed but yet one of the most miserable people to walk the earth. Before having ever seen a photograph of him, when I thought of the writer I'd picture Charlie Brown. In a sharp suit. What I know of Tennesse Williams is he was an alcoholic and druggie. He was gay. He'd rather undergo eye surgery than socialize. He was troubled. He was brilliant.
 

 

   

This semester, when studying stageplays I was told to use the colorful characters from Williams' 'Streetcar Named Desire' and choose a scene from the play to rewrite however I'd like. I chose a scene in which Blanche and Mitch were standing outside of the building talking, just back from a date. In my own scene I up-played Blanche's decietfulness and Mitch's nack for being gullible. It was a fun exercise and I enjoyed doing it.

                                          

For the college's spring production they were retelling 'A Streetcar Named Desire' in their own playful way. Their project was aptly named 'Chasing That Streetcar Named Desire'. And to my surprise they added my very scene to their play. I was so excited! To have my own work on a stage in front of people? I never thought! I never cared for writing stage plays. But this was an honor for sure.

The last time anything I had written recieved public recognition was in 2007 at a Houghton Mifflin conference in Florida. It was the highest I've ever felt in my life and I knew that this would be finally another high. It's been so long and I felt like I was back on my writing horse. I could not wait to see this play. The anticipation consumed me for weeks.

On the evening of my 24th birthday I went to the college theater alone. Friends and family expressed interest in seeing it with me but I thought it to be kind of intimate. The last time a script of mine was performed (just in a classroom amongst a small group of people) I felt naked and exposed, embarressed yet proud. It was exhilerating. But I definitley wanted to cover my face with a pillow. I knew this experience would give me the same sensation and for at least my first sit-through, wanted to see it alone.

I flipped through the play bill and saw my name printed amongst the "Written by...". My excitement and anxiety reached it's peak just as the play began. It was a great turnout. The crowd laughed and gasped and made all the right reactions at all the right parts. Then my scene. Executed perfectly by a hispanic actress and a black actor with a strong jaw. I leaned forward in my seat. Those were my words being recited. In every movement I saw my own stage directions. I listened and watched and it felt like going to prom.

(((I waited my whole life to go to prom. To wear a gown. Have a handsome date on my arm. Feel like a princess. Have the time of my life. 16-17 years waiting for one night. Then prom night comes and the shoes hurt my feet, the crosage is falling apart, I'm bored,& I don't feel like entertaining the handsome prince on my arm so I pass him off to a dateless girl in my class. They hit it off. I'm free to be a hermit. And at the end of the night not only am I still in high school but I've spent a ton of money on shit I'll never wear again.)))

Going to prom. Everything was perfect. The actors were great. The set, props, costumes, lighting, all great. And yet, no high. No climax. No feeling naked. Nothing. I couldn't tell you why. Maybe because it wasn't really my story. They wern't my characters.That's my excuse. But when the play was over & the lights came on I felt nothing. But older. And completely upset for not getting the high I swore I would. The high I thought I deserved. The high I waited for.

I went straight home, avoiding all conversation, companionship and any attempt at birthday cheer. Until I got home and found in my room a bottle of Merlot with a blue bow on it. I popped it open and thought, 'I promise I won't go killing myself.'

                                     

Me and the Miles

Wednesday. Training, week 5. It's dark, cold and raining outside and my training schedule says I have to run 5 miles today. I've never ran 5 miles in my life. I'll go for a run because I don't have shit else to do, but it sure as hell won't be 5 miles. I put on my light blue rain jacket in addition to my usual running attire, clip my pedometer to my waist and head out to meet the downpour with a similiar desposition.

It's the last day of February. What a shitty month. And a shitty year. I pull my hood around my face and walk down the hill. Another hill. Another hill. Another hill. Through the dog park. Across Main Street. Down the stairs behind Bourbon Blue restaurant to the towpath, where I set my pedometer to zero and take off. Slow and steady. Today's not about speed, no, that's what Mondays are for. Wednesdays are about distance. Today is about me.

The rain orchestrates a world of ripples in the canal to my left. I immediatley encounter puddles and my feet are soaked through and through. Glad we got that out of the way. No use avoiding them now. I don't have my iPod. I want to be able to hear Life if it has anything to say.

 As I run along the graveled towpath, deserted for once due to the weather, I feel the other me's behind my eyes. They both have demands, plans, questions to ask, lies to tell and shit they've been holding in all week. Go for it. Let it out while the world's not around. I just pass beneath Green Lane Bridge, where the canal and towpath take a slight turn when they let it out. Everything. Every damn thing.

                                        
 
About half a mile in I hit what I call the 'yellow brick road'. It's where a wooden fence painted bright yellow begins, seperating me from the rippling canal. It stretches 3/4 of a mile long, which is half of my usual 3 mile run. This is where I get the guilt. There's a me in here who says everything is my fault. It is, I agree. But she still won't look at me. She hits the ground a bit harder as she runs, dodging the killer geese and their green shit land mines. She tells me what to do to make everything okay. I can't do that. I just can't do that. She hits the ground a bit harder.

At the end of the yellow brick road is where the canal turns into a river. There's a dam there. I rip my gloves off and toss them into a bush as I pass. Her anger is making me hot. I wish she'd cool out. Or it could be the run. I reach the waist-high stone pillars covered in black, silver, red and blue graffitti; usually my turning point but I keep running. I run until the end of the towpath, then I run along the railroad tracks. Eventually I run out of track, then I run along a road until I don't know where I am anymore. And then I keep running. Eventually the other me, the one with the tears on her face, she wants to know why. I don't know. When? I don't know? How are we gonna make it through March? I. Don't. Know. What are we gonna do? I DON'T KNOW! What if we break into pieces and all the kings men can't put us together again? I stop running. I don't fucking know. I'm standing in the middle of traffic, cars passing on boths sides of me. I pull my hood from my head and let the rain run through my hair until it trickles along my scalp. I have no idea where I am. Cars are honking. It's raining on me. I stand there for a long minute. Not because I'm lost, because I'm not. I just don't know where I am. It just feels nice.

What a mess. What are we gonna do? Run.

I turn around and I'm off. Every one of me is empty of everything they were holding in. I heard them out. We're relieved without answers and theres nothing to do but run.I don't notice the cars. Or the railroad tracks. Or the geese. Or the shit. Or the yellow brick road. I know when I stop the hurt will be waiting, the pieces of all thats falling apart. But right now nothing matters. Not what I should or shouldn't have said. If someone has or hasn't called. If the mail came. If the check bounced. The boyfriend. The boss. Home. To hell with it all. I'm a shitty play write. I'm impatient as hell. I turn to temptation when that's all there is to turn to. I havn't seen my mind in weeks. And what have a written lately? Shitty plays. I don't need anyones attention right now. No ones approval. I don't have to be anyones daughter. No one's friend. I'm just here Just me. And I'm running and nothing else matters. No one else matters. Not the asses and bastards who don't mean anything they say. And the liars who don't even know they're lying. Everyone making me feel like I'm not good enough, they suck too. Just run.

Without realizing it I'm at the point in the towpath where I began. But I keep running. Right off the towpath. Through the dog park and up the hill. All the hills. The infamous Roxborough hills known to Philadelphians as 'The Wall'. It hurts but what else is new. I lean forward and push. And push and push. It was like zoning out. Eventually, I'm home. I turn at the top of the hill and look out over Manayunk. Somewhere beneath the distant trees and bridge is my towpath. Everything hurt. I sat down in the middle of the street. Rain streaming down my face. I take off my pedometer and glance at the numbers.

5.004 miles.

We'll make it through March. I promise.

Don't Judge A Year By It's January

2011 blew my mind. As it began I was a college dropout without much to wake up for. I was selling cigarettes at a CVS & walking home late at night to save bus fare. A few weeks before the new year I had recieved an invitation to move to Maryland in February & travel the country saving the world through community service. It was an insane idea to me. I continued selling cigarettes.
To say that AmeriCorps NCCC saved my life would sound a tad bit dramatic. A slight over statement? Maybe. I was getting out of bed only when I had to. I never wanted to. I'd been out of school for over a year. I wasn't writing. I wasn't trying to be anything. I had given up. I had almost accepted what my life had become and prepared to live it out. I had nothing to lose. It's funny when you have have absolutely nothing to lose, you find yourself feeling very free.

Reppin' the A as we say in Camden, NJ

February 7th 2011. I took a train to Baltimore, then an hours drive to Perry Point, MD where I stood in a crowded gymnasium of an old VA medical hospital turned dorms. I remember standing there more terrified than I think I've ever been. Little introverted me. I wrote that day in my journal, "I understand now how some people stay in the same place their entire lives, never exploring what's new. It's awfully scary. Today in that gym I wanted nothing more than a rock to crawl under. I'd forgotten why I came out here at all." 


Our dorm building, 9H

Leaving the Point one day

Service is what drives NCCC. I've always wanted to help people & this year that light of mine was able to shine brighter than it ever has. I've worked with American Red Cross and FEMA responding to natural disaster emergencies. I've worked in cities, on farms, YMCA camps, with religious groups, mayors. I've built playgrounds, rebuilt boardwalks. I've tutored, painted, timed swim meets. Tilled soil in the pouring rain and so much more. I've done things in 2011 that I never thought I'd do. In 2011 I can say I did something. X10.



 

The boardwalk we rebuilt. Rehoboth Beach, DE

 

Cleaning 'Bread and Cheese Creek'. In a small town in MD

 

Cleaning & treating a crawl space for mold. Vermont. I'm the one in white & goggles.

Maryland was home this year. I was all over it. Baltimore, DC, Reisterstown, Annapolis, Edgewater, Port DePosit, Havre de Grace and home sweet Perryville and the Point. I got to know Camden, NJ fairly well as well as the counties in northern Jersey. I went fishing at midnight in Alabama, and got a barge to blow it's horn when it passed. I bar hopped University Strip in Tuscaloosa. I heard bagpipes play in Boston. Canoed the Mystic river in Somerville, Massachusetts. I watched the sunset over the Quechee Gorge in Vermont. I walked around Dartmouth in New Hampshire in search of college parties. And failed to find any. In 2011 I can say I've been somewhere. X10.


Carnival in Alabama where I won Hannah a stuffed lizard.



Mystic River, Somerville, Mass.



Passing through the beautiful hills of Virginia



Subway in boston

 

When 2011 began I thought something was wrong with me. Where I come from, I'm the slacker. The screw-up. The one not going anywhere. But in 2011 I made friends who made me feel that I'm right where I'm supposed to be. They've ressurected a part of me I havn't seen since I was 18. A playful part that smiles and laughs easily. They helped me see something beautiful in this mess of me. They were there when I needed them and even when we all disspersed & returned to where we came from they remain only a call away. In 2011 I can say I made a friend. times 10.

Friday Night in Tuscaloosa, AL

 

End of the workday. Kayam Farm.



 

Paintballing. For America.

 

Our last days together. At the Point.

 

The night we realized it was ending. Our awards banquet.

 

Saturday night, Somerville, Massachusetts :)

 

Our prom. It was Zombie themed.

2011 was the best year of my life but not because of all the things I've done, places I've been or even friends I've made. Since the very 1st time I used a power tool at Kayam Farm in March I've been doing things I'd been afraid to do my whole life. I found my voice. I blew myself away the 1st time I spoke up for myself, not afraid to say "Hey, I don't appreciate this." I'd never ever done that before. All of a sudden I'm doing things I'd have been terrified of last year. One being telling someone how I feel, be it a boy or a superior. Take me to an old house that was flooded in Hurricane Irene and I'm the 1st one crawling through the dark, tiny crawl space beneath the floor. Put me in front of a crowd, I can speak. 20 degree weather? I can sleep in that. 100 degree weather? I can work in that. Emergency? I'm certified to handle those. Someone dosn't like me? I can handle that too. Wine bottle, no cork screw? Give me a boot. I'm not saying I'm Indiana Jones all of a sudden. But I'm a bit braver than I used to be. A tad bit smarter, & a bit more equipped to handle whatever is thrown my way. In 2011 I can say I've grown. X10.



 

Hosting our pirate themed unit meeting.

 

On the Ben Franklin Bridge. Between Philly & Camden.

2012 finds me in a very similar place 2011 found me. A bit lost in the sauce. Back in my Waiting Place. But I'm a bit more hopeful this New Year because I know now not to judge a year by its January. It may sound dramatic of me to say that NCCC saved my life but it kind of did. It turned me into someone I've always wanted to be. Someone still changing. Still growing. Someone no longer willing to accept a life of selling cigarettes at CVS. Right now I'm in a rut, transitioning back to real life. But soon 2012 will find me writing, running and returning to school. 2012 will find me learning to drive and learning to cook. And if 2012 is as good to me as 2011, my relationship with AmeriCorps NCCC is not over yet. But before we really kick 2012 into gear I just wanted to take a blog to acknowledge all those in the heavens & on earth who made 2011 all that it was and say, Thanks!



 

Class 17 - Atlantic Region - Raven Unit



 

Raven 4. 4evermore.
The End.



The Waiting Place II

There are no stars in the Waiting Place. It's just endless darkness in every direction. Not a scary kind of darkness though. It's more of a mysterious kind of darkness. It's never bothered me at all, but man! I'd really like to see a star.

Julie says that stars are balls of fire, suspended in the air a very very long way away from where I sit. I never believe anything Julie says. She's a teacher. She teaches here and there and between journeys she stops to sit with me sometimes. She likes to tell me about things but I usually don't listen.

One day I asked my friend, Eric about stars. Eric's a smart cookie. He's been to places I can barely imagine. He used to sit with me for a few hours once or twice a week and tell me about all kinds of things. Eric is round  and brown and has a large, warm smile. Eric says that stars are just the ashes from all the cigarettes God smoked that day. He says He puts his cigarettes out in the sky, then the ashes burn out by morning. I asked Eric where I could find stars. He said, "Wherever the sky is clear." I don't quite understand what that means. I look up all the time but I never see a thing.

One day Eric was sitting with me and he was telling me about a play he had seen in a place called London. He said the stage was outdoors and he could see the stars. Again, I asked him about stars. Eric said that sometimes the stars come together to form pictures and some people use those pictures to tell stories. I was completely amazed and painfully jealous. I didn't feel as if I'd ever see a star. Not from my bench.
"You've gotta get off this bench." Eric told me.
"But I have nowhere to go."
"Everyone has somewhere to go."
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"I'm going to get my degree." he said.
"Well, why are you traveling so much? Don't you have to just stay in one place for a while for a degree? Arn't you supposed to pick a school and stay there? Where are you always going?"
"Not all degrees are that easy to obtain." he said with a smile.

We sat in silence for a while, watching the waves of people passing by. I remembered my own journey to find a degree. It led me here. Suddenly I was struck with an idea.

"Hey Eric!" I said suddenly.
"Yes?"
"I have an idea. How about the next time you go somewhere amazing you bring me back a star?"
He looked at me amused.
"Please." I begged, "I'll never ask you for anything else ever again. Please? Just one star? Just a little one?"
He smiled at me and said, "Okay, I'll bring you back a star."

Eric left that day and I waited everyday for him to come back. For him to bring me a star. I trusted Eric to return. And one day he did. I saw him in the crowd from a distance and felt my heart jump. I stood on my bench and waved my arms frantically. to make sure he could see me. When he finally made his way to my bench he sat down beside me and started telling me about his latest adventure. I felt that it would've been rude to cut him off to ask for my star. So I let him continue his painfully long and dull story about his trip to Philadelphia. It would not have been a dull story at all had I not been anxiously waiting to see my star. Then my heart sunk. Had he forgotten?

Finally he finished his story and sat in contentment, watching the crowds of people passing by as I watched him. Then finally I cleared my throat and asked, "So, did you bring me a star?" He turned his head to look at me. He was giving me a smile that meant he was hiding something. I was practically bouncing in my seat. Then he reached his hand into his jeans pocket, leaned toward me and whispered, "I got you something better."

Better? My heart sunk again. I wanted a star. He pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me. It was a ticket. For me. My name was on it. "What's this?" I asked.
"It's your ticket." he answered.
"My ticket to what?"
"To stars." he replied smiling that big warm smile.

I had had a ticket once before. It just blew to me with a breeze. It landed right under my bench. My name was on it. I had held on to it for a few days. Then I had heard a ship belowing somewhere south. It was my ship. I could just tell. It was the ship my ticket was for. But I was too afraid to leave my bench. The ship sailed on without me and I let my ticket go, and it blew away with another breeze. That was the last ticket I've had, until this one.

"Where'd you get it from?" I asked.
"It blew to me on a breeze." he said. "I have to go." He stood up a smoothed out his sweater vest and fixed his collar.
"Where are you going?"
"I've got class."
"Where?"
"I don't know actually. But I've got a good feeling about this one."
"Eric.." I started as he turned to walk away.
"Don't waste this one." he said to me, "You're not meant to stay here."

He walked away. Through the crowd. Eventually I couldn't see him anymore. I sat on my bench clutching this mysterious ticket with both hands. I looked down at it. Eric had doodled something in the corner of the ticket with pencil. It was a star.