Harry Potter and the 10-year-old Crayon Artist

July 31st is not only the birthday of Harry Potter, but the birthday of his creator, J.K. Rowling. To honor this fabulous woman and her fabulous creation, I'm posting some of the pictures I drew when I was a cute little nine-year-old who hadn't yet seen the movies and based these pictures off the descriptions from the books and the Hermione Granger action figure I'd seen at Kroger. Enjoy my crayon-and-puff-paint drawings--God knows my dad still finds them amusing.

 My imagining of the Gryffindor Common Room, with the Fat Lady facing out (in my fourth-grade brain, I assumed that since she faced OUTSIDE the portrait hole, from the inside you'd only be able to see her back).

Lord Voldemort, as I imagined him before I saw the films/read the fourth book and discovered that it isn't his body that's green, but the light from the Avada Kedavra curse...oops!

 Ron Weasley, getting sorted into Gryffindor.

Ginny Weasley waking up in the Chamber of Secrets. Note the worms snakes on the pillars surrounding her.

Harry Potter with his oddly-proportioned Nimbus 2000. Look closely and you can see the scribbles on the reverse side of the page, when I attempted to draw his face and crossed it out because I wasn't happy with the results.

 Hermione Granger, based on the 2001 action figure from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.

Ginny Weasley pre-Chamber of Secrets, awake and alert--and with blue eyes. This was based off my assumption that if Ron had blue eyes, so did Ginny. (Remember, this was before I read the seventh book.)

Harry's cupboard under the stairs. The left half is the outside, the right half (divided by the straight diagonal line, not the stair line) is the inside. Note that I depicted the entrance as an oven door, not the normal door that it is in the movies--I'm not sure why.

I'd like to say I've drawn better fan art since then. But I'd be lying. I've cosplayed Hermione (and done a damn good job, I thought), but I haven't actually drawn or photographed anything Harry Potter-related that I'd be willing to show the internet.

But this isn't about my artistic skills, or lack thereof. It's about showing my appreciation for the Harry Potter books, and the kick-ass woman who wrote them.

So to you, Ms. Rowling, I raise my glass. You changed my life with these books. You gave me something that helped me transition from the Baby-Sitters Club to the delights of Salinger, Tolkien, and Kerouac (among others). You showed me that I could handle "scary" books and movies. You gave me heroes to look up to and anti-heroes to admire, villains to hate and jesters to mock. You gave me more with one book series than most authors could with three or four (yes, I'm looking at you, Ann M. Martin).

Most importantly, you showed me that a frizzy-haired bookworm could change the world. You showed me my future self. You showed me a heroine that I could emulate without changing who I already was. And I will never, ever forget that.

Happy Birthday, J.K. May every book you write be as inspiring, as amazing, as the one that started it all.

The Long Month of July

I spent 4th of July weekend pretty much the same way I've spent it every year (save the two that I spent the summer at Interlochen) since I was born: with my family.

Holidays are a big deal at my house. Always have been. When it's just the three of us, we have to go just a little further to make it seem like a big party...that, and we're just a family that loves to celebrate. When I was little, practically every holiday was marked by a trip to the dollar store, where I would buy every tacky, over-the-top decoration I could afford, plus a ream of crepe paper and enough balloons to keep a latex factory in business. Then I'd come home, decorate, make cookies/cupcakes/cake (depending on the occasion) and we'd have an epic three-person party.

And the 4th of July was no exception. We put on our own "fireworks" display every year. I put it in quotation marks because what we did cannot, in any context, be compared to real fireworks. We had sparklers, Roman candles, smoke balls, those little things that burst and crackle when you throw them against the pavement. Every year, Dad would vow to somehow obtain real fireworks, but he never did (until this year, when they were legal). Whether it was because he couldn't find them or because he didn't want to get us in trouble with the law I don't know. But back then I didn't care, I just liked those little sparkly things. And we'd make cupcakes, and we'd have something special for dinner, and I'd get to stay up extra-late...all very, very good things in the eyes of a ten-year-old.

As I got older, the tradition drifted a bit. The childish fireworks were no longer exciting. There were no presents (no anticipation, no wondering what my parents got me, no looking forward to the expressions on my parents' faces when they saw their gifts from me), no candy handouts, no huge turkey dinner, no card exchanges, no Easter Bunny scavenger hunts...basically nothing I could connect to as a celebration geek. Unlike things like Christmas and Thanksgiving, which had meaning aside from the holiday hoopla, I had no real emotional connection to Independence Day. I've never been a hardcore patriot; I'm too much of a wanderlusting travel-addict to develop that kind of emotional connection to America. So without the fireworks and parties and whatnot, there was really no reason for me to love 4th of July.

And then this year, we decided to celebrate again.

Dad goofs off while shopping for supplies for our 4th of July picnic. That's one of my favorite shirts of his: Handy man with an attitude. I came. I sawed. I'll fix it later.

When I was little, all I'd ever hear about was how much I looked like my dad. Fifteen-odd years later, all I can say is that it's clear we have the same taste in glasses.

I just could not get the camera to focus here! But it doesn't matter...you can still see that the sky was absolutely breathtaking.

It was so windy I was afraid nothing would stay put...but we held the tablecloth down with clips, put the centerpiece in a jar (it matched the candleholders, so it worked), and luckily everything else was heavy enough to stay put.

The menu: deviled eggs, pasta salad, corn on the cob, watermelon, and grilled chicken. All home cooked. All delicious as hell.

One of my favorite pictures of my mom.

 Our first legitimate fireworks display, of which I could not get one damn decent shot.

Ice cream sandwiches for dessert. Yummy!

And then for the rest of the weekend, we just hung out. While Mom prepared to go back to work, Dad and I went to see Monsters University and then, as we always do, we played Monopoly.

And then it was two weeks of ups and downs. Learning to parallel park, which I'm very sure will come in extremely handy all four times in my life I'll probably use it. Actually I learned a lot the last few weeks: how to parallel park, how to change a propane tank, how to clean a grill, how to fill a lawnmower tank, how to make Japanese chicken noodle soup, how to capture raindrops on camera, how to make red velvet cake...

Oh right. That cake. The reason I had to make it was so that I could go up to Interlochen and surprise my fiancee.

Dad took this picture, taking great care to include the trees in the background.

I was initially supposed to work at Interlochen with her this summer. Plans changed, I had to stay home--but she went up to camp anyway. Since I only live a few hours away from the Interlochen campus, I actually was able to visit her once during the summer. But, with my mom (a.k.a. the Keeper of the Car Keys) I developed another plan this past weekend. Her birthday was coming up, and I wanted to do something no one else had done for her before: surprise her on the big day.

Well. The day before the big day, because that was the only time I could go up. But close enough.

We bought the presents on Thursday--a red (her favorite color) Pandora bracelet with two charms: faith/hope/love (we're both Christians) and an Eiffel Tower (to say she's a Francophile would be an Epic Understatement). I laid the foundation: told her to be in her cabin at 2:30 on Saturday, because my "associate" was going to take her something from me, but that was the only time it could be done. And then on Friday, I baked the cake...and the cupcakes...and made cream cheese frosting.

Oh, boy.

That cake.

Okay, here's the thing. I love baking. Am I good at it? Well...not necessarily. Nothing I've ever made looks like a picture from a magazine. But I love doing it. And hey, it never looks like something out of a magazine, but I've never gotten any complaints about how anything I make tastes. I'm kind of the head cake planner in my family. Remember those celebrations I talked about earlier? Guess who's usually the brains behind the desserts? That's me. What I lack  in raw artistic talent I make up in imagination and (a hell of a lot of) determination.

But I'd never made red velvet cake before last Friday. And I don't think I ever want to again.

I neglected to take photos of the cake-baking process out of sheer human decency. Trust me, no one wants to know what a red velvet cake looks like in raw form. Not even bakers who specialize in red velvet cake want to know what it looks like; if they are smart, they blindfold themselves and bake the cake by either sonar or muscle memory. I sure as all living hell did not want to know what it looked like. And I assure you nothing but true love for this woman could have made me keep going once I saw what the batter looked like.

I got two words for you, blog-lovers: human and blood. Human blood. That's what that stuff looked like. My mom went as far as to compare it to a placenta. I wouldn't know. All I know is that red velvet cake batter looks like something that should be in a high school haunted house and nowhere else (and especially not in my kitchen). I've always been that kid who wants to lick the mixing bowl after the cake goes in the oven. As you may imagine, for the first time in my life, I had no such desire whilst making the red velvet cake. And after the whole experience, I don't think I'll ever have the desire to consume anything under the heading of "red velvet" again.

But I did make it, and I got it into the oven. I think I overcooked it a little--red velvet cake is one of those annoying cakes that gives very little visual cue as to whether or not it's actually done--but I didn't burn it, and later on Ella had no complaints about the taste, so I don't think I did too badly. Then I made the cream cheese frosting and frosted the cupcakes (and despite my best efforts, ate about six tons of it in the process), cut the lone round 8-inch into a heart, frosted that, wrote "Happy B-Day Ella" in melted chocolate (which was a hell of a lot harder than I thought it would be), and dusted the mini cupcakes in red sugar. 

Then, I had to figure out how to transport the cupcakes. Eventually I settled on extra-deep square Tupperware containers. I loaded up the Tupperware, used a pancake turner to transfer the sticky heart cake into its container, and used foil to cover the one container that didn't have a lid. There. Cupcakes done. Now all I had to do was pick up balloons, a teddy bear, and potentially flowers the next day on the way to Interlochen. The plan was to go to our usual Saturday morning nutrition class (no one will believe me when I say this is fun...but it is!), and then drive to Interlochen, set up a picnic table somewhere on campus with paper plates, plastic forks, and a dazzling cupcake display, knock on Ella's door, and after our joyful tears-and-hugs reunion, lead her to our newly set-up party. Simple, or so I thought.

Oh, if only I'd known.

On Saturday I woke up to a disturbingly gray sky. No problem, right? We'd be totally fine; the weather can change in a heartbeat in Michigan, and besides, maybe it'd be sunnier up north. (Yeah, right.) After the class, we had to come back--I forgot a letter that had come to the house for Ella, and Dad had forgotten his glasses. So we had a little setback. No big deal, right? We could still get there before 2:00 and have plenty of time to get the teddy bear and balloons. Right?

The weather turned to crap long before we got there. It was raining a half hour into the drive. I was worried, but not too much...it could still clear up, I was sure of that. In the meantime, I pulled off an outfit change in the car, no small feat as my dad was driving and my parents were teasing me every step of the way--according to them I flashed half the drivers on the interstate.

By the time we got there--late--I was freaking out.  My debit card wasn't working, I had less than fifteen minutes to get a teddy bear and bunch of balloons, and there was no party store at Interlochen like I'd thought...only a Dollar General, and not a very good one at that. I ran around the store, looking for a stuffed animal--it went from a teddy bear to ANY stuffed animal--while Dad supervised the inflation of ten Happy Birthday balloons, one of which popped during the inflation process.

I was getting desperate. At the last minute, just as I was about to throw myself onto the floor and cry (a very mature reaction to the stress, I know), I saw a huge, fluffy bear sitting on a high shelf on the other side of the store. I practically sprinted to the shelf, got the bear down, and hugged that thing like it was my long-lost best friend. A bouquet of silk hydrangeas--because real ones would wilt, and I didn't want that--and the mostly-surviving balloons, and we were done. We got back in the car and, just barely, managed to get to Interlochen by 2:40.

It was actually raining by then. I half-ran to her cabin door, ducking down by the window so she wouldn't see me coming, got into position, and knocked.

Aaaaand...no one answered.

I froze on the step. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Was I too late? Had she up and left, sick of waiting for the mysterious surprise to arrive?  Had she outsmarted me, decided to hide in the trees and sneak up on me while I stood there unsuspecting, holding an armful of cliche gifts? Had I blown it?

I took a deep breath. Calmed the hell down. Knocked again. I was going to call out, see if anyone was there, but I was afraid it'd ruin the surprise if she heard my voice. I knocked a third time and waited. Most of the window on the door was covered by a poster board sign, but I could see someone moving. Was it her? I took a step back, in the interest of not getting knocked over by the door.

It was her. Sleepy-eyed, without glasses, looking utterly confused. For a minute she just stared at me, blank and bleary-eyed. And I just stood there in the increasingly heavy rain, still laden down with presents, until I finally said in a tiny voice, "Surprise?" I didn't mean for it to come out like a question, but it did.

Then she recognized me, and made me come in. She was the only one in the cabin, and she had fallen asleep waiting for me. I barely got over the threshold before she pulled me into a hug. I had to convince her to let me go so I could put down the stuff I was holding and hug her back. "I missed you. I missed you so much," we both said over and over.

There was no one else in the cabin. We sat side-by-side on her bed, and I told her all the trials we'd gone through to get here. "Your parents are here?" she gasped, looking at me like I'd just told her the moon was made of green cheese. "They drove you all the way up here just for this?" I told her they had, and that prior to the rain, we were going to have a little party for her. She looked like she was about to cry when she heard the past tense. "No one's ever thrown me a birthday party," she told me.

I stood up and grabbed her hand. "C'mon, let's go fix that."

We huddled under her umbrella and ran for my parents' car. With nowhere else to go, we drove to the laundry cabin, which had an awning/porch that would shield us from the rain long enough for her to blow out the birthday candles. We all got out of the car. I made Ella close her eyes while we lit the candles. Dad broke out his phone and taped us singing Happy Birthday. I wish I'd had the foresight to snap a picture of Ella blowing out the candles--but I got plenty of pictures of her opening her presents, so that made up for it. 

Then we went to Dove Song, this pretty little hippie-type shop in Interlochen village, and I found a ring that I resolved to get for Ella as soon as my damn debit card started working again. We ended up walking around outside for a bit after the rain stopped, while we waited for my parents to get back from the grocery store. Then it was back to Interlochen campus, where we delivered all eight thousand mini cupcakes to Intermediate Girls HQ for Ella's co-counselors. And then Ella and I had to go back to her cabin and say our good-byes.

I'll be honest here: I didn't want to stay in that cabin any longer than I had to. The rain was starting again, and you'd think it'd be all peaceful and quiet, but it kind of...wasn't. It was eerie. And kind of damp. And cold. And did I mention I was wearing a skirt? But I stayed and we hugged and pouted about leaving each other--again--and then she reminded me that we'd see each other again soon enough; camp is over next Monday. So I left, but kept calling "I love you" to her through the closed cabin door, and she kept saying it back until we were both out of earshot of each other.

But on the way home she called me, practically crying (or at least, it sounded like it) that she'd forgotten to give me this letter she'd written for me. I told her, it's okay, you can give it to me next Monday, or if you really want me to see it right away you can send it through the mail, I'm only a few hours away. She calmed down, and all was okay again...but I still made sure to let her know when we were home safe that night. Just in case she wasn't sure we'd make it.

One week until I see her again. Two weeks until she goes back to Maryland, and I won't see her until Christmas. Three weeks until what might be the biggest change of my life so far. I don't know. I'll keep you posted.

A Scary Thought: Reflections on 'Monsters University'

[Potential spoiler warning--I'm doing my best to keep this spoiler-free, but discussion of thematic elements may give away ending; if you haven't seen the film, proceed with caution.]

As far as measuring up to the original goes, Monsters University isn't too bad. The fan service is liberally applied, the team of John Goodman and Billy Crystal is hilarious as ever, the ending is happy, the jokes are plentiful, and the Disney element outweighs the Pixar. It's generally likeable. I wouldn't put it on my top ten worst list. On the other hand, I sure as hell wouldn't put it on my top ten best list. It doesn't even break my top 5 favorite Pixar films. (If you guessed the original Monsters, Inc would be in that list, you would be right.) That right there should tell you something.

Is Pixar losing their touch? I don't know. I loved Brave, and Toy Story 3 was as loveable a tearjerker as its predecessors. But Monsters University missed the mark for me. It's probably because I'm a jaded film student, I'll admit. I have no doubt that die-hard Pixar followers and elementary schoolers, a.k.a. the target audience for the film, will love it. But for me, it just didn't cut it...and not for the reasons you might think; like I said, the fan service was incredible. And yet...there was something that just felt off.

For me, the faults in the film come down to three major points:

1) The "you can be your own hero" message is lost in the mess of Hollywood cliches. Wreck-It Ralph had this problem too, and from what I saw of the previews, so will the next batch of tried-and-true Disney confections. In every film, there is a common thread: an underdog fights his/her way to the top and beats all the odds to become--ta-da!--a hero! Monsters University is no exception. Underdog Mike Wazowski is shown as a hardworking, determined, everyman kind of guy who just wants to do well in school; thus, naturally, he becomes a "hero" at his school (only after defeating the token evil popular guys, of course). I'm so sick of seeing this trope in movies I could puke. If it's "okay" to not be a hero, Disney and Pixar, then why is it that in every movie you release, there is always at least one hero, usually a token underdog like Mike? If it's okay to just be normal, then why does the good guy always win in your films, and why does the bad guy always lose? Why are there no grey areas between winning and losing, heroes and villains? Which brings me to...

2) The characters are so one-dimensional it's actually sickening. Just like in every other fucking high school/college movie ever made in the history of cinema, the popular guys are terrible douchebags who have status but no tact, and the nerds/underdogs are lovable, compassionate, gentle, and of course brilliantly smart. There's no middle ground. The message is clear: if you're popular, you are a jerk and your appeal is fleeting; if you are not popular, you're wonderful and it's just that no one else has seen it, but don't worry, they will eventually. And of course Randall, Mike's roommate, starts off his uncool best friend, but as soon as he gets a taste of popularity, what does he do? Of course he denounces Mike and runs off to join the ranks of the populars--why wouldn't he? How dare you even suggest he could have stayed friends with Mike and joined the fraternity on the side? Oh no, he's popular now, therefore he  must turn into an insufferable jerk! And of course Mike's new friends, the geeks, are all so pathetic and helpless they need their fearless leader to turn them into glorious champions. There's never any middle ground. According to Disney, you are either a forceful popular leader and a total asshole, or you're a doormat geek with no life who lives with their parents. Which brings me to...

3) The parent-child relationship is just plain nonexistent. Either the parents are helicopters, like Squishy's mom, or totally absent, like Mike's parents. There's no middle ground there, either. Squishy is a total joke for living with his mom, while poor Mike and Sulley get no support from their parents whatsoever. There's nothing that even remotely resembles a healthy parent-child relationship. Remember the perfect balance struck by the parents in Easy A? Remember how Olive's parents loved her to bits, but also knew when to stay out of her business? Remember that natural, realistic, balanced portrayal of a parent-child relationship? Well, you won't find it here. Remember, through a teenager's eyes, it's not possible for a parent to be anything other than an embarrassment or a parole officer.

You know what I'd like to see, just once? I'd like to see a movie where the lines are blurred. Where the popular kids are a mixed bag, just like any other group--where there are some jerkwad popular rich snobs, but there are also some likable, Captain America-style popular kids who get involved in anything and everything and have tons of friends and that's why they're popular. And the geeks aren't all nice and quirky and brilliant and naturally lovable, they're human just like the rest of the kids. I'd like to see friendship between the popular and unpopular, because believe it or not, that happens in real life just like the clique barrier.

I'd like to see a movie that, instead of endlessly extolling the merits of friendship, acknowledges that some people are better off on their own, and that is perfectly okay. Not all loners have that posse of lovable nerds to back them up. Some of them are just that--loners. They prefer to be alone. They like being alone. And that is totally okay. You don't have to have a circle of friends. You can just have one best friend, or hell, just be friends with your parents. That's okay too.

I'd like to see more movies like Juno and Easy A, where the parents are a part of the kid's life, a natural part of the kid's life, without taking it over or fading out of it completely. I'd like to see more movies where the parents are neither buffoons nor jailers, they're simply parents, just people who want to do the best by the people they love most: their kids. I'd like to see more movies where the kids have a relationship with their parents like I have with mine.

I'd like to see a movie that acknowledges that, no, not every underdog will beat the odds, and not every misfit will end up a hero. Life doesn't always hand you that silver lining. Sometimes, it has to be enough just knowing that you did what was right by yourself. Sometimes, you have to be alone. Sometimes, you just have to face that you aren't that good, and you have to find another way to get what you want. While Monsters University touched on this briefly, the film would have been so much better if it actually went in-depth--meaning, yes, Mike realizes he just isn't that scary. And I love that. But instead of showing an alternate path, he just finds another way to indirectly be a scarer. And all the geeks, all the other underdogs, what happens to them? They become scarers too.

I want to see a movie about an ordinary person doing ordinary things and being happy with who they are even though they aren't secretly a heroic badass who can save the day when everyone else is saying "You're not enough." I want someone who will look back at those naysayers and reply, "No, I am not enough, I will never be enough to save the day, but you know what? I'm enough by myself, and I'm proud of who I am even though I'm not 'enough' for you." I want to see a movie like that.

Hmm...I think I'll write one.

The Ultimate Summer Playlist

I am a true music nerd. I love a huge variety of bands, and I know waaay too much about my favorites. I have playlists for everything--homework, housekeeping, cooking, boredom, highway driving and, of course, seasonal.  And to me, nothing says "Summer!!!!!" like roaring down the street with the windows down and your radio blaring. Maybe your choice of radio-blaster is Bruce Springsteen; maybe it's Justin Bieber, but whoever it is, this is the time to blast them loud and proud! You don't have long, only another two or three months until it starts getting colder and you're forced to contain the sound by closing your windows. So don't be shy, blast out those speakers! Want/need any suggestions? Here are some of my staples:

Seaside Bar Song by Bruce Springsteen
Bruce Springsteen is pretty much the ultimate summer-friendly artist, but this song really takes the cake. Hard to resist rolling down the windows and roaring along the highway on a summer night when you're listening to a song about, um, rolling down the windows and roaring along the highway on a summer night.

Souls on Ten by The Almost
If this song doesn't immediately pick up your mood, I don't know what will.

Beat It by Michael Jackson
This song falls squarely into the category of "Songs Avery Knows She Sounds Terrible Singing But Will Sing Along Every Time Regardless." Just watch out, it's highly danceable and you don't want to start tapping your foot while driving.

Basket Case by Avril Lavigne
Back in the days before she went hyperactive pop princess on us, Avril Lavigne had good taste in cover songs and actually knew how to belt in concert. This is one of the rare occasions that I actually prefer the cover over the original song.

Forces of the Unseen by Cloud Cult
Cloud Cult is one of those bands that I just can't even believe really exists. Every time I hear one of their songs, I'm just blown away at how incredibly well composed, arranged, and performed their music is...and this song in particular just blows my mind. "Please say it can't be done, 'cause that's just fuel for me to just prove this, yeah you'll see?" Genius.

San Francisco by Vanessa Carlton
If her voice doesn't send chills down your spine, and her lyrics don't put tears in your eyes, then I don't think we can be friends.

Summer Medley 2011 by Sam Tsui/Kurt Schneider
Sam Tsui is such a good singer that he can give even the most vapid pop songs emotional depth. As for Kurt Schneider, the genius behind the arrangement, he managed to mesh "Party Rock Anthem" with "Edge of Glory" and "Last Friday Night" so well that they sounded like one complete song. Impressed? I know I am.

One World by Utopia
This song sounds like it could be the theme of a TV show or the opening credits of a movie. On a side note, I will never cease to wonder how such a sarcastic smart-ass as Todd Rundgren can make these lovely, upbeat, feel-good songs.

Change Your Mind by The All-American Rejects
Another movie montage-worthy song. I've actually found this one to be pretty multi-purpose--it's a good workout song, a good road trip song, housework song, and just general pick-me-up song.

No Sleep 2Nite by The Faders
This all-girl band reminds me of The Runaways: aggressive, exciting, and damn talented. They are also highly underrated. If you like Katy Perry, Lady Gaga, even Ke$ha, you need to check this band out. It's non-negotiable.

Cherry Bomb by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts
And speaking of the Runaways...only the woman behind their existence could take one of their songs, pieced together during their lead-singer auditions, cover it with her hard rock band, and sound even better than the original. Joan Jett, leather-clad bad girl, will never ever cease to be one of my key inspirations.

The Middle by Jimmy Eat World
Just try to keep from singing along and fist-pumping to this song. (Hint: It's not possible.)

Hey Now by Augustana
And last but not least, we have the ultimate summer slow-dance song. I can't help but think of kisses and hand-holding under a starlit sky on  a warm summer night when I hear it. The soaring strings, the belting vocals, the poetic lyrics, the lulling guitars...it's just incredible.