I was in a terrible mood on Thursday. The night before, I was still really upset about this complicated situation regarding teacher recommendations, a few of my friends were going through some serious crap and I was listening to them and trying to comfort them and help them out, all while writing two massive essays due the next day. That morning, I felt claustrophobic in my English class and all I wanted to do was go home and sleep. Unfortunately, this couldn't happen because I had an orchestra concert that evening, and the thought of being in school until past 9 PM that night was literally nauseating.
Junior campout was Friday night, and while I can't say it was the craziest night of my life, it was definitely memorable. We ended up talking for most of the night, bringing out the truth sessions earlier than usual (these normally take place after 2 AM, but this time they started as early as 10 PM). It was a somewhat odd but still refreshing way of ending junior year. I remember remarking to Gloria at one point as we were just standing around watching some people play frisbee that I felt powerful. At this point in time, we were the ones who were rulers of the school. The seniors had just "accomplished" a semester of sleeping, and they would be leaving in just a few days. We were the ones who had survived the most difficult year of our high school career, and we were a week and a half away from being seniors. Seeing everyone all over the practice fields and the football field almost made it seem as though we had taken over the school. As I thought about this and reflected on who I was as a person and how that person differed from the one nearly three years ago, I felt in control of things. I was confident in myself, I was happy with my friends, and I felt like I was a part of this one big group known as the class of 2011 as we all moved on to the final step in both our high school career and our childhood.
Speaking of saying goodbye to my childhood, it was incredibly calming to write my last post, which perfectly captured what I felt about this last movie. Today [yesterday], filming was completed for the final movie. I admit, I was a bit emotional about this at first. This is it. I'm not saying the movies are the same as the books and that saying goodbye to them will be the same, but it's still the same anticipation. It's the same feeling in the air, the same countdowns, the same midnight releases. I can't believe one day I will never be able to feel that again, but at the same time, I am so thankful I had the chance to experience it at all. I don't understand people with lukewarm lives. People who tell me I'm crazy for being passionate about something don't know what they are missing from their lives. I have had so much fun over the years, and nothing can take those memories away from me. I remember being twelve years old and throwing a party for the release of book six, where I had friends come over and we played trivia games, decorated t-shirts, drank butterbeer, and watched the first movie. We went to the bookstore a little before midnight, got our wristbands and plastic bags with random cheap crap that I held on to for years, like a lightening bolt tattoo, glasses I broke, a crossword puzzle and a word jumble that I still have, a pencil to do said activities which I also still have (and used on the TJ test... go figure), and other junk. My mom got us Starbucks. I still have that cup, too. We went back to the house where I read non-stop until 7 in the morning, when I finished the book, racing through the pages and literally yelling at my friends to shut up (who were waking up and did not read as far as I did, and were discussing mundane details of a previous book). I closed the book and held back my tears as I impatiently waited for my friends to leave. Once the last girl left, I grabbed the book and raced to my room, sobbing hysterically and hugging the book, rereading my favorite parts.
It was crazy, and I had a ton of fun.
As I go through all of these releases in my mind, I remember the excitement, the energy, the crazy things I did, the ways I embarrassed myself but still had a great time, and I don't regret anything. So why do people find the need to make fun of me? I'm the one who was impossibly happy at these parts of my life. I was the one who will have these memories for the rest of my life. When were you that excited for something? Why is it wrong to be really excited for something that makes you happier than anything else in the world?
Speaking of saying goodbye to my childhood, it was incredibly calming to write my last post, which perfectly captured what I felt about this last movie. Today [yesterday], filming was completed for the final movie. I admit, I was a bit emotional about this at first. This is it. I'm not saying the movies are the same as the books and that saying goodbye to them will be the same, but it's still the same anticipation. It's the same feeling in the air, the same countdowns, the same midnight releases. I can't believe one day I will never be able to feel that again, but at the same time, I am so thankful I had the chance to experience it at all. I don't understand people with lukewarm lives. People who tell me I'm crazy for being passionate about something don't know what they are missing from their lives. I have had so much fun over the years, and nothing can take those memories away from me. I remember being twelve years old and throwing a party for the release of book six, where I had friends come over and we played trivia games, decorated t-shirts, drank butterbeer, and watched the first movie. We went to the bookstore a little before midnight, got our wristbands and plastic bags with random cheap crap that I held on to for years, like a lightening bolt tattoo, glasses I broke, a crossword puzzle and a word jumble that I still have, a pencil to do said activities which I also still have (and used on the TJ test... go figure), and other junk. My mom got us Starbucks. I still have that cup, too. We went back to the house where I read non-stop until 7 in the morning, when I finished the book, racing through the pages and literally yelling at my friends to shut up (who were waking up and did not read as far as I did, and were discussing mundane details of a previous book). I closed the book and held back my tears as I impatiently waited for my friends to leave. Once the last girl left, I grabbed the book and raced to my room, sobbing hysterically and hugging the book, rereading my favorite parts.
It was crazy, and I had a ton of fun.
As I go through all of these releases in my mind, I remember the excitement, the energy, the crazy things I did, the ways I embarrassed myself but still had a great time, and I don't regret anything. So why do people find the need to make fun of me? I'm the one who was impossibly happy at these parts of my life. I was the one who will have these memories for the rest of my life. When were you that excited for something? Why is it wrong to be really excited for something that makes you happier than anything else in the world?
1 comments:
Who said it was?
Post a Comment