The End of an Era

Day: Three Hundred and Fifty

Photo taken on Sunday, July 17, 2011 after watching the final installment of Harry Potter in the Farmingdale Multiplex at 1030pm. (Pictured from left: The bad guys: Steve throwing a curse, Jenn pointing, and Heather channeling her inner Bellatrix. Neutral wizard: Mike. The good guys: Jon as Neville, Justin deflecting Steve's curse, and a hyperactive Hufflepuff.)

Ten years.

Pottermania has been in my life for an entire decade. And I have loved every single second of it.

I am aware of the Harry Potter books but thinking they are for children, never pick one up until I learn that it is story that anyone can enjoy. One day after hockey practice, my coach offers a movie excursion to Flatirons for Friday, the day Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone is scheduled to come out. The majority of the team wants to go as well as my roommate, Sam, who upon hearing I am going, begs to come along. She even runs into her room and retrieves the three books out so far, telling me she's a huge fan. So on Friday, she joins me and the rest of the CU Women's Ice Hockey Team to see this flick. I have no idea what to expect but I am open-minded since I know most of the Hogwarts staff from other movies and enjoy these actors. My reaction? I think I forget to breathe through the entire thing, completely enchanted with the magical world J.K. Rowling has created. I love the story, the characters, the school, the food, the EVERYTHING! I want to stand in front of the Mirror of Erised. I want to sit under the sorting hat. I want to join in the fight against Voldermort.

And so begins the ten years of obsessing over one of the greatest stories of all time. As the years go on, I learn of more friends that share my deep love for Potter: Maeve is a fellow student but not in my house (she's a Gryffindor) though we hit Hogsmeade all the time together; Naughty, EJ, Dormmate Chris, and I play drunken Harry Potter on the original Playstation ("Potter NO! Potter MOVE!"); Naughty breaks out her books on tape while we live in the hockey house; Cameron even comes down from MA to see Goblet of Fire with me; Annie and I get together after the sixth book comes out to discuss what we thought (I bring two pages of notes), Christine brings me to the Wizarding World, and the list goes on. It's the second time this year I am writing about a trip to Potterland but I am afraid this time it will be my last.

I struggle with the ending of Book 7, maybe because it is time to say goodbye to the favorite characters that stole my heart (and then DIED, leaving me all alone to wallow in my sadness over them, and what the hell? Out of my top five-technically six because the twins are a package deal-four die?! So not fair.) Book 7 means it is finally complete, that there is no more yet I still have the movie to look forward to. And when I hear they are dividing it into two I think, that's not necessary but I'll take it! Why not extend this for a few more years?

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II is bittersweet. My heart gets ripped out during the Snape montage because he is such a complex character and tortured soul. How much he endures for the sake of saving Harry, the dark front he has to keep up in order to appear faithful to Voldermort, the way he stands there and accepts his fate he knew was coming all along, and how he buries his love for a woman he could never have. He keeps hatred in his heart for Harry because he wants to make him his father but when he demands Harry look at him, he sees the green eyes of Lily as he passes on. So moving, so heart wrenching. How could one not love Severus?

I had been looking forward to the scene in the room of requirement-the fire dragon-I had a feeling it would be freaking cool! Though I am very saddened by the fact that two of my favorites, Fred and Lupin, are not paid the noble death sequence they so rightfully deserve. I have trouble swallowing the fact that out of all the Weasleys, Rowling chooses to split the twins. If I have learned anything from this troublesome duo is that one would never leave the other, even in death. In my world, Fred returns and can rival Peeves anyday!

I admit, I cry when Dobby leaves us. The red hot anger I feel when Sirius dies at the hand of his cousin keeps me awake at night. The tears that are almost endless when everyone lights their wands and raises them in the air for Dumbledore breaks me. But I am not prepared for the emotion I feel bubbling to the surface when the snitch "opens at the close". This is why I love the series so much. This is why Harry is redeemed from Book 5's constant whining (thank you film adaptation for changing that in the fifth movie) and holds a very special place in my heart. He is brave and honorable and chooses to sacrifice himself for the greater good. It's a poignant scene that makes me want to be a better person, makes me want to be more like Harry: a defender, determined and fearless.

I have taken much from this series and I can spend hours of your time talking about it. There are many religious and spiritual themes laced within this story as well has humanity guidelines. I am happy to say I agree with what Rowling is trying to teach us: that love really does conquer all, that loyalty and standing up for what you believe in is important, and that friendship is a treasured gift that can last a lifetime.

These past ten years have been a glorious and wonderful adventure for me. I hope that my love for Harry Potter continues and I thank you all for putting up with my incessant chatter about the series.

"I want you to listen to me very carefully, Harry. You're not a bad person. You're a very good person, who bad things have happened to. Besides, the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are."-Sirius Black

Fatty McFat Fat

Day: Three Hundred and Forty One

Photo taken on Friday, July 8, 2011 at my Surge desk at 1005am.

Normal desk. Normal desk chair.

Not normal thigh circumference. Makes for an uncomfortable situation whenever I need to type.

I have massive quads, tiny hammies, and a cute little tush but there was a time when I had HUGE everything from the waist down. I am blissfully unaware of this fact until Dad points it out to me when I'm home on vacation as a senior in college. I haven't been able to get my jeans past my thighs for a few months now so I have resorted to wearing only cargo pants and corduroys. As I am bending over the sink to wash a dish (not a normal occurrance) Dad speaks up from behind his paper.

"Katie, you've put on some weight."

I look down at my flat stomach. "Um, I don't think I have," I say, now starting to feel unsure of myself. Maybe all those late night trips to TBell are finally starting to show.

Dad presses the issue by standing up and waving his hand around one of his thighs and a butt cheek. "In this area."

I turn from the sink, outraged and sputtering. "I'm not fat! That's from playing hockey!" He looks at me over his rims, throwing me the I-was-born-at-night-but-not-last-night look. I throw down the towel, walk to the center of the room, and assume a hockey position, full squat with fake stick lying across my legs. "This is what I do in order to play. Sitting in an imaginary chair for two hours straight makes my legs look like this."

A pause. A skeptical look. A tsk. And back to the morning paper.

Well, I never!

Crack is Whack

Day: Three Hundred and Four

Photo taken on Wednesday, June 1, 2011 in the upstairs hallway after a Hawks doubleheader at 1137pm.

First off, I apologize for my butt. I toyed with the idea of censorship so you wouldn't vomit upon seeing my Grand Canyon by placing a large black strip in the valley but that just looks silly. I am brave enough to wear boobie shirts all the time and my cleavage resembles a butt crack anyway so why be embarrassed of the real thing?

Now let's move on...

17 has always been my number and I really don't know why. Maybe because it is the number of the house I grew up in or that it's Moma's birthday or Marty McFly's age in Back To The Future or that people mistake me for being that young. Whatever the reason, I always make sure to have it on the back of my jersey all those years playing softball for Tri Village. Then I make sure to get it when playing hockey for CU. Now I have it again playing softball as an adult.


I take three years to consider this tattoo. 17 is important to me because it encompasses more than just a number, it represents many moments in time so it makes sense to permanently brand it on my body. The image to accompany it is hard to choose until I make captain for CU my senior year. It is a great honor to be considered by my teammates because I am not the best hockey player but I am a great team player both on and off the ice and this is why they have chosen me. At the end of the year I tell Christine my wish to tattoo the number and something hockey related on my butt so she sets to work designing different options. Three other players join us at the tattoo parlor one day and forever link ourselves to each other:

Katie P. opted for Ralphie over the hockey sticks with her number (3) as well as an "A" because she joined me in the ranks of hockey leaders our senior year. A speedy defenseman that played hard in practice and even harder during the game. She also shared my love of Traveling Wilburys and skiing, beating me down the mountain through the woods in perfect form. Definitely one of my fave peeps I met at CU.

Mallory chose Ralphie and the hockey sticks and instead of an arm, gave her rear. A fierce goalie that was fast and flexible, keeping our team on top throughout the entire year. Mal has a great spirit and is just all around fun. She's one of my fellow runners that keep me abreast of her races via Facebook which helps me train harder when I hear of her success.

Naughty chose the same awesome hockey tattoo as yours truly and included her number as well. I was so worried about my parents finding out about our tattoo excursion so I begged her to wear a sweater to graduation which she did because she is wonderful like that. Looking back on it now, I don't know why I would think my parents would have seen her tattoo on her arm and automatically know I had a matching one on my ass? But Naughty is a trooper and a very good friend so she didn't mind my craziness. After all, she did live with me for a year so she understood how off the wall I could be.

Naughty was a big reason why I stayed in Colorado when I was flirting with the idea to come back and go to BU instead. Our friendship was chock full of singing Moulin Rouge loudly in the car, playing Harry Potter on PlayStation to all hours of the night, and when I needed help getting better in order to stay on the team, she was there to give advice.

After having so much fun designing our respective tattoos, Christine decided to get one too. For two years I played with her, enjoying having her at point and being so supportive of everyone on the bench. The last year I played she was assistant coach and team mom (Mama Pee Pee) instead and I have no idea how we would have survived without her. She kept the drama amongst us at bay, made numerous calls to straighten out travel issues, worked very well with Stef (our star player and other "A") to make everything smooth sailing for us fundraising wise, and was always there for anyone in need. Christine is a great person, easy to get along with, and always willing to bend over backwards for a friend. She is also a great companion to have on trips because she's fun as hell!

Despite me putting this picture last, I actually went first because I was afraid if I watched someone else in pain I would chicken out. Katie kept giving me updates on the progress and Mallory let me squeeze her hand. It lasted about 20 minutes or so and it felt like someone took a dull key and rubbed it back and forth on my skin, giving off that rug burn feeling. It wasn't too bad having my ass in the window of the shop and even having other team members drop by to check out our new editions to our bodies. It was an experience I will never forget and hope to repeat with someone special again.