The Impossible Train Ride

I wasn’t quite sure what had happened. Images flashed through my mind and I tried to pull them all together, tried to make sense of them. There was a face: a man, beefy and strong and he would’ve been quite handsome if it weren’t for the awful snarling smirk hanging in his black eyes. And this was all ignoring the sickening lurch in my stomach when his face flashed through my memory. There were other men, just as beefy and all with the same snarls and smirks. There was some sort of dump. I focused on that memory for a moment, trying to figure out what the place was. An old forgotten rail yard, maybe. But that didn’t seem to make any sense. I pushed the image aside and focused on the others. Fire. There had been fire. An explosion. Now that I thought of it, my ears were still ringing. The explosion had been right next to me.... How was it that I was still alive?

  Finally, finally, I opened my eyes. At first I thought I had gone blind: I couldn’t see a thing. But after a moment, my eyes began to adjust. What I saw confused me even further so I closed my eyes again and let my other senses become aware.
  First came my hearing. Past the ringing from the explosion there was a loud rumbling. I knew somehow that I recognized the rumbling but my befuddled mind couldn’t figure it out right now. Every now and again there was a painful screech like metal scraping against metal. All right so my sense of hearing wasn’t helping me at all.
  I focused on smell. There was definitely mildew in the air. And something bitter.... Gasoline, maybe? Something was burning. Or had been recently. Finally I could put two and two together: the burning smell had to have been caused by the explosion.
  I took a chance and opened my mouth to see if I could taste anything in the air. Immediately I closed my mouth. The mildew was so strong that as soon as I breathed in through my mouth I could taste it. Foul was the only word that could possibly describe it.
  It was only then that I started to feel. Or, maybe, it was only then that I allowed myself to feel. Whatever miracle had saved my life from the explosion had not saved me from the pain. My entire body ached more than I ever thought was possible. I could feel bits of my skin that had been burned off: the entire back of my right hand felt like muscle was now exposed to the dank air. That burn seemed to continue up the full length of my arm and even up my neck. Another two and two was put together: a good deal of the burning smell was my own flesh and hair.
  Once I was able to take an inventory of all the pain I was feeling, I tried to feel what was around me. I was wedged somehow in a very tight space. There was an oddly shaped constriction around my middle and I was laying on my stomach on what seemed to be old, damp wood. But if I rolled over to my left side I might be able to pull myself out of whatever I was wedged in to. Slowly, I opened my eyes, let them adjust and looked back to get a good look.
  I was indeed on a damp wood floor that was vibrating along with the rumbling. Two wooden beams made a triangle around my midriff, connecting to the equally damp ceiling that was a mere foot and a half above my head. I looked back ahead of me. Several more of these triangular shapes held up the ceiling. Gritting my teeth, I rolled to my left side and began pulling myself through the beams.
  As I did so, I fought hard against the panic rising in my throat. What was going on? Where was I? How had I gotten here? Why had I been so close to an explosion? Who were those men and why did I feel like I should know the answer to most of these questions? I stopped scooting across the floor for a moment, blinking back tears and swallowing against the panic. I tugged my body against the final pair of beams, the panic only rising again when the attempt went in vain. I tugged and tugged, the wood rubbing against my already raw skin, before finally stopping, closing my eyes and forcing myself to breathe deeply. Then, slowly, carefully, I pulled myself through.
  Relief forced the tears I was fighting to the edge but I pushed them back again, telling myself I wasn’t out of this yet. With some difficultly, I pulled my legs around in front of me, resting them against the wooden wall. I curled up, putting my back against the beams, and gave the wall a great kick. To my amazement, the wall broke cleanly off, falling out into the open. A great rush of wind filled my senses accompanied by more smells and a burst of weak white light. Blinking against the light, I pulled myself back around, realizing that the place I had remembered had indeed been a rail yard and that I was somehow in the belly of a train. I poked my head out the hole I’d made to scout the terrain before jumping out. I was almost out of here, I was almost safe.
  What I saw, however, seemed to make a lead weight replace my heart and the panic seemed to have decided it would like to make a permanent home in my throat.
  The ground itself was not bad of a landing spot. It looked hard, yes, and we were definitely in some sort of desert, but a rolling landing would minimize the damage. This is, if the train weren’t thousands of feet into the air and moving hundreds of miles per hour. I couldn’t tell if the tears that were now streaming freely down my face was because of the panic and fear or because of the incredible speed at which the wind was whipping past.
  I pulled my head back into the belly of the train and leaned against the wall next to the hole, panic threatening to make me burst into just as a fiery explosion as the one that had left me with all these burns.
          What was going on?

Unexpected Things

I've always said the unexpected things are the best. Well, okay, maybe not always but you know what I mean. Especially ever since I've started college, the unexpected things are always the things that make me the happiest, are the most long-lasting.

Now, one thing about me is that I worry. A lot. I worry about the little things, I worry about the big things. I create awful scenarios that will never happen and yet I worry about the possibilities. "What if." Those two words are my biggest enemy. And being someone with such a huge and wide imagination... Yeah, it can get ugly.

Today I discovered that, however much I worry and create scenarios, being hit with something unexpected that, for once, isn't good, is the worst. No preparation. Just wham!, you're hit and you can feel this awful twisting in your stomach and you know you want to cry, but you're just too shocked and for the moment you have to be strong and use your acting skills but as soon as that's done, you're running to the bathroom and locking the door and pacing back and forth as you sob silently, only silently because you have to, you don't want to answer questions and you don't know how you're going to fix this and life sucks.

*ahem* I'm okay. Really, I am. At least. I will be. I know that. It's just... hard to be excited about life right now.

And to anyone who's reading this, I could really use some prayers right now. <3

"When I get sad, I stop being sad and be awesome instead."

I've come to the realization in the past few months that I really hate it when the people I care most about are less than happy. And then it's even worse when they won't tell me why. I don't want to push them into telling me, but I want to help. And I have trouble figuring out how to help even when I do know what the issue is. Do I act all peppy and happy and excited about life and hope it wears off on them? Do I tell them that I know how they feel and try to somehow help that way? Do I try to come up with some ideas for solutions even though I have no idea what I'm talking about?

And then! We add on the fact that all of my people, save family, aren't in close proximity right now so I can't at least give them a big hug. I mean, sometimes all a person needs is a big hug. Just the physical touch of another sympathetic human being can make all the difference. But they're all at least a thousand miles away. Granted, I love technology and the fact that I can stay in such close contact with the people I love despite the distance between us, but nothing, I repeat, nothing will ever make up for actually being with someone.

I just want them happy. I just want them genuinely smiling. I just want them to be excited about life.

"After all this time?" "Always."

A few warnings before I start:

WARNING: There be SPOILERS ahead.

WARNING: Naysayers and haters, LEAVE. Now.

WARNING: I'm running on about three hours of sleep right now... I'm really scatterbrained. Sorry.

What a movie. I went to the midnight showing with my sister, Kate. I went dressed as my Harry Potter persona: Slytherin fifth year Morgaine Edwin of the Marauder Era. Julia went as a Ravenclaw with elements of Luna Lovegood. The best costume that we saw was a young girl with straight, long brunette hair in a plain white dress, holding a picture frame... She was Ariana Dumbledore. It was brilliant.

I love going to midnight showings. I love dressing up (Halloween's my favorite holiday), I love figuring out everyone else's costumes, I love the excitement buzzing in the air. I love being able to really react during the movie: laughing, crying, cheering, applauding.

Some golden moments of the movie:

Neville, of course, is totally BA in this. It's impossible not to love it when he is on the bridge and the Snatchers are stopped at the protections and, of course, when he kills Nagini. I also ~loved~ the little Neville/Luna tidbit they added in there. There are two pairings that aren't canon that I love, though, I guess only one of them isn't canon anymore... Neville and Luna as well as Dumbledore and McGonagall. (Pish posh about Dumbledore being gay. Bah!)

There was another, unexpected, completely BA character in the movie: Minerva McGonagall. Of course, you have to love it when she's fighting Snape (which is also awesome to watch for Snape and what must be going through his mind... but I'll get to that later). But watching her throughout the Battle of Hogwarts... What a woman. She is easily one of my top five favorite Hogwarts professors. And when she enchanted the suits of armor and told them to protect the castle? She has this adorable grin and says "I've always wanted to try that spell" to Molly Weasley. Definitely my favorite comedic relief moment.

Aberforth was strangely wonderful. Every dead body that we recognized was another tear I had to wipe away: Fred (I mean, really, JK?), Remus and Tonks... The scene in the Room of Requirement was wonderfully done. And the fight between Molly Weasley and Bellatrix... I think that got more applause in our theatre more than when Voldemort died.

The dragon! Oh, my goodness. Okay, this is how much of a nerd/dork I am: dragons are my favorite animal. Therefore, I'm very picky about my dragons in movies. I've never been satisfied by the CGI work. Until now. That was a beautifully done dragon. Gorgeous.

Hermione as Bellatrix... So. Funny. I know Helena Bonham Carter said she just asked Emma Watson to do the scenes are she would and then Bonham Carter copied her, but still. It was grand. And, might I add, Rupert didn't look too shabby with that disguise...

I loved that we got to see more into Voldemort's head than we ever have before, both in the books and the movies. To see him and feel him so vulnerable. Ralph Fiennes did a beautiful job in this movie. Voldemort to me has always just kind of... been. I've never had much of an opinion on him. He's not like Bellatrix where I love to hate her or like Umbridge where I hate to hate her. He's just kind of... been. To be honest, I like Tom Riddle more than Voldemort as a villain. Which may not make sense... I think it might be because Tom's more human and Voldemort is so far from being human that he's hard to... "relate" isn't the right word but it's the best I can come up with right now. But in this movie, Ralph Fiennes was able to push past the inhumanity and, without making him less of a monster, made him a little more human and "relatable" and it was fascinating.

Some of the artistic choices were beautiful. My favorite scene in HP7.1 is when the trio is running from the Snatchers and there is no music in the background. It just... makes the scene more... intense and real. And the entire beginning of HP7.2 had no music. It was bone chilling.

Into The Forest Again was beautiful. I had calmed down from earlier scenes (which I will be getting to soon) by this point, but when Lily, James, Remus and Sirius showed up... I was okay, I was okay, I was okay, and then Sirius has a mini monologue and I lost it again. Sirius is my second favorite character of the series and I hate how the books he was in, he was barely ever there. And then he died. I was So. Mad. when he died.

(Sidenote: I finished reading HP5 in the wee hours of the morning and, of course, my dreams that night were Harry Potter themed. I dreamt that in the sixth book, Dumbledore died and then, in the seventh book, Harry died but it was a strange death and he wasn't upset about it. Imagine how much I freaked out after reading the sixth book. And then when I realized... I'm still weirded out by it.)

King's Cross was... there aren't words. The Voldemort creature was perfectly disgusting. The acting on Daniel and Michael's parts... And the reverence and respect you could tell both of these actors had for this scene and these characters and what Harry Potter means to the world. I was thrilled when they included one of the my favorite exchanges of the series word for words. Dumbledore is walking away and Harry calls after him:
"Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"
Dumbledore stops and turns with a very Dumbledore smile.
"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"
That is a beautiful way to explain the world of an author...

And then finally. I come to my favorite character. Severus Snape.

Alan Rickman deserves an Oscar. I'll be angry if he doesn't at least get nominated for this.

First, as I previously stated, I loved the fight between him and McGonagall. To see the thoughts and emotions playing on his face, especially when one already knows his full story, was so much fun. When he whipped his cloak around himself I was afraid he wouldn't be crashing through the window, which I was disappointed about. I love that image, so I was glad that he still did. But I still love the comical take on it as shown in this fan art:

But seriously. (Or shall I say "siriusly"?) We got to his death scene and, well, clearly, I knew what was coming. I'd been okay throughout the rest of the movie and there was a part of me in the back of my mind wondering if I'd actually, possibly get through the movie without crying. HA. I think it was when Snape realized what was about to happen. And then Voldemort slashed his wand... And then we got the scene from outside where the trio was, hearing Nagini strike again and again... AHHH. And Harry goes in and Snape... Snape was crying! "You have your mother's eyes..." And I was gone. Silent hysterics.

The Prince's Tale was done beautifully. This and Snape's death... I want to go see the movie again, but I would be happy if all I could see were these two scenes. There were bits missing, of course, but that's fine. I actually have come to fully trust JK with the movies finally. And? While I love the fact that, in the book, Snape goes to Grimmauld Place and reads the letter more... In the movie, I love the fact that he goes to Godric's Hollow and finds Lily more. It was wonderfully awful.

So basically? What a beautiful movie. I can't wait to go see it again.

Being Olllllllld

So I've been back "home" for a little over a week now. Basically my life consists of job hunting and talking with friends from school through any means possible. Well, and going to the pool. I hate how BV doesn't have a pool. Especially when I'm rather spoiled here with this beautiful aquatic center with three slides, a diving board and a platform as well as (this is my favorite part) a lazy river.

Work in the corn hasn't started yet which would be why I'm hunting for another job. Well, I probably would be hunting for another job anyway. I need moolah. It's sort of important. I wish it weren't, but, well, that's the world for you. Bleh. I've applied a variety of places but I haven't heard back from anyone yet. I'm going to start following up soon.

Kate, my sister, has a "not-boyfriend" now. And by that I mean, she's not 16 yet so they're not technically dating. But they're holding hands as they go around the lazy river. Suddenly I understand why parents mock their children when it comes to relationships. It's a coping mechanism. Now I feel olllllllld...

Adding to my feeling olllllllld, yesterday was the 4th of July. Woo! Yay for pancake breakfast, our yearly movie (Cars 2 this year... I really want to figure out a way to make a Burn Notice/Cars crossover now since Bruce Campbell is an American spy in Cars 2...), BBQ with, like, 12 families in our backyard, sparklers and then, of course, fireworks. Now the "olllllllld" part... I'm sitting there during the fireworks, kind of sitting alone, watching and listening (my favorite part is feeling the explosions). Behind me is a bunch of kids being, well, kids. Talking about the fireworks, "oo"-ing and "ah"-ing and part of me... a really large part of me... just really wanted them to shut up. I just wanted to watch fireworks with no other noise around me. No one talking. The only sound being the fireworks themselves. I think that would be really awesome...

Gosh, darnit, I'm olllllllld!!!!

Older Sister Mode

This week I've had several opportunities to step fully into my "older sister" shoes. I don't know why, but it doesn't feel like I get that opportunity often. Maybe it's because my family's so close and I feel more like friends with my siblings, especially now that I live a thousand miles away. Back when I lived at home I didn't spend much time at the house. I was always at school for plays and the like and when I was at home, I'd be in my room, reading or working on homework.

First experience this week was with my sister Kate. She's been on a Girl Scout trip for the past few days and has been telling me all about her travels (they traveled by train which I, in my Harry Potter obsessed mode right now, am extremely jealous about) through text. At one point, she started talking about some plans unrelated to her travels, something I didn't quite approve of. To protect her, I won't go in to the details, but suffice it to say, I told her it was her life, but I didn't like it.

A couple hours later I get a text telling me there's been a change in her plans, a change that I fully approved. I did a little happy dance at that point and decided I officially had succeeded as an older sister.

Second experience has kind of been spanning out this entire week. My brother, Tucker... well, let's just say he's sort of a freak of nature. I love him. He's only eight years old yet he's only about a foot and a half shorter than I am and skinny as a stick. No, seriously. I have no idea how his pants stay up. And? He's a genius. He's read the Harry Potter books (I'm not sure if he's gotten through all seven yet, but still) all by himself and he's now working on his own novel. He read one of his short stories to me the other day and, especially for an eight year old, it's insanely good. Plus? He's hilarious! He is a bonafide comic! I can't help but sit back in awe at Tucker.

Right now he has a cyst. On his neck. It looks like an Adam's apple, but he's too young for one. They were told that he's going to need surgery to take it off, but the doctors were being pains about scheduling. This next week we have a family reunion on my mom's side and it's going to be the first time we're all together since my grandmother passed. It also happens to fall on my grandmother's birthday and her and Grandpa's anniversary. Yeah. So my parents told the doctors this and they said that if they didn't do the surgery next week, it would have to wait until the middle of July.

Okay, clearly we're not going to wait that long. So for the past couple of days we've been waiting to hear back about when this surgery is going to be. Mom just got the call today. The way it works out, it seems right now as if Mom and my sisters are going to be able to go to the family reunion while Dad and Tucker stay home.

I. Hate. Humanity.

I mean, now, seriously. We all hate this idea. Mom, it seems, especially. This is her baby, her little boy, going through surgery. She wants to be there with him! Also, Dad's been really busy with work and as the Bishop lately, so he was looking forward to some family time. We don't need anything special, just some with the six of us. Heck, the drive to and from it sometimes the best part!

So... This is what I have to say to the doctors:

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Yeah. I'm okay. *sigh*

I'm Okay

Strangely enough, I am okay. I don't feel like I really should be, but I am. Let me explain. ("No, there is too much. Let me sum up." Reference? Anyone? Anyone?)

I was not okay. I was doing a good job of pretending I was okay and even fooling myself sometimes, but overall, I was not okay. Then something happened and, suddenly, the world seemed brighter again. I could hear the birds singing, I could feel the sun shining and I was constantly excited about what the future held in store. That pretty much sums up my May. It was AH-MAZING. I can't really begin to describe just how wonderful it was.

This week things have started to change. I've left campus and I'm currently at my grandpa's house where I'm weeding the backyard and will be doing so all of next week as well. It's just me and my grandpa. Other things as well have started to change, which I won't go into here. Suffice it to say, I'm a worrier. I tend to freak out and panic. And there was one day this week that I was completely consumed by panic and worry all day.

That night I went for a walk. I'm not a person who wrings things, yet my shirt was in a knotted ball clenched in my fists the entire time as I sobbed and soon fell into a conversation with Heavenly Father. Eventually my plea boiled down to one simple thing: I don't want to feel like this. I don't want this panic, this worry. I hate it. I hate it more than anything, how it completely consumes me and I feel utterly miserable.

The next day, though nothing in the situation that made me panic had changed really, I was, albeit strangely, okay. And I still am. The situation is not at all better, in fact I would even say that it's gotten worse. But I'm okay.

Even tonight, the panic and worry took over for a couple minutes, but I quickly fell into another conversation with Heavenly Father. There is an easy solution to this dilemma, we both know. I would love, love that to happen. But if not, I told him, all I want is to be okay. Never before has the quote "Nevertheless, thy will, not mine, be done" had so much meaning to me and me alone.

I don't know what's going to happen. I get a foreboding feeling that things aren't going to go the way I want them to. If that's the case, I'll cry, yes. But I know that, with Heavenly Father's help, I will be able to pick myself back up and carry on. I am okay.