Last Week #18 | This Blog Post Was Always Going to Be About Harry Potter

The following is a sample of a text conversation between myself and my boyfriend.
Me, last night at midnight: "lol when your weekly vlog is 1:48 long. hahahaha." 
Eli: "Haha...that's ok, it's been a tired week." 

And a tired week it was. The week began with a screening of OVERDUE, and ended with my final day at the Minoa library. Then on Friday, on my first real day off in a long time, I started to get sick.  Coincidentally, my family left for vacation on Friday, and I was planning on joining them at some point during this week. But in a stunning turn of events, the few days I had to myself this weekend were spent sicker than I've been in a long time. I don't really get sick. I get headaches sometimes, my periods are pretty bad, but other than that I'm healthy. So to have the first fever I've had since probably 2013, on the first days of my "vacation," and be completely alone to boot, sucked. I spent a lot of time crying, a lot of time sweating, a lot of time shaking with cold, and a lot of time watching Portlandia. (I may have watched 3 seasons in two days...maybe.)

I cried for a few reasons. 1) Because Eli and I had plans to do a lot of cool things on Saturday-- like go to the local market and see new bakeries-- and I couldn't do any of it. Suffice to say I was seriously bummed. 2) Because one of the reasons I even stayed home to begin with was so I could go get the new Harry Potter book (technically it's a script book...) at midnight. But as I was sweating and dizzy from a fever, I couldn't really do that. 3) Because, and I found this out later, I was PMS-ing.

Sounds like a fun weekend, right? Just a perfect storm of misery. Anyway, even though I still don't feel 100% sitting here on Monday, yesterday I was able to drag myself out of bed for long enough to go pick up my reserved copy of The Cursed Child, go to Peaks, eat some waffles, and start reading.

In the bookstore, I found myself thinking about all of the past Frans. The 2007 Fran, at the midnight release party of what she and everyone else believed to be the last story she'd ever get from the Harry Potter universe. The 2013 Fran, sitting on the couch miserable with undiagnosed back pain, but overjoyed having just learned that that hadn't been the end-- we were getting a TRILOGY of new movies based on the companion books! I also thought about what 2007 Fran would think of her life now. Would she be happy with where she is? Reading, writing, learning, and creating more things than she ever would have imagined. Sitting in a coffee shop owned by her best friends, at which her super hot boyfriend works. (I imagine she would be.)

On the drive from the bookstore to Peaks yesterday, I cried. But I didn't cry because of the new Harry Potter book. I cried because I remembered how sad past Fran was, and how (generally) happy current Fran is. I cried because I realized that something I'd always suspected had been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. Through everything, Harry Potter has been there. And through everything, he always will be. I'm not going to lie, before I got my hands on this book I wasn't even that excited for it. I was afraid it wouldn't be good, and worse still, that I just didn't care about Harry Potter like I used to. In the darkest corner of my mind, I was terrified that somewhere along the line I had outgrown it. But on Sunday afternoon, after a weekend of tears and anxiety, reading this book felt like going home again. All those times when I was younger, where I picked up a Harry Potter book whenever I was sad, those weren't isolated incidents reserved for childhood. While this new book may be a tad different, it still feels the same way it always did. It feels like going home.

-Fran

"Turn That Friz-own Upsi-dizzity"

   

   In all honesty, I thought today was going to be total shit. I woke up at 5:30 to the sound of a woodpecker slamming its beak into the wood paneling of my house in search of food, which just so happened to be right above my headboard. As luck would have it, I was right in the middle of a dream where the cast of Parks & Recreation and I were on a hike through the woods. Tom Haverford was saying something funny and then suddenly it sounded like someone was drilling nails into my bedroom wall. What kind of terrible luck is that? And to make matters worse, after I ran outside and chased it away, I couldn’t get back to sleep. I haven’t been sleeping very well for the past week, so that was really annoying, because I actually need it. So I did what any of us would do in this situation-- I decided to watch some YouTube videos. They inspired me, and made me want to get up and create. So I got up, ate breakfast, and left for my favorite local coffee shop, intending to upload a video and kill some time in an atmosphere that I love. 

   Since I’m a regular at this place, I noticed almost immediately that there was a new barista working. He was tall, dark, and handsome in the most cliché sense of the term. When I went up to order and heard him speak, I noticed that he was also British. I don’t mean to be one of those girls who automatically swoons the second she hears a British accent, but let’s face it, my first crush was Harry Potter. But it wasn’t just the accent. He was actually a nice guy. He asked every person who came up how their day was going, including me. And while I would usually balk, get nervous, and make some lame excuse at something like this, today I found myself feeling comfortable enough to actually tell the truth. I told him about my rude awakening, and he actually seemed to care. Then when I said, “At least I’ll be more productive today,” he replied, “Yes, you always get your best work done in the morning.” And I don’t know why, but that simple interaction just lifted me up. It gave me hope. 

    Although most days social interactions exhaust me, this one made me want to try harder more often. It made me want to be this kind of person. The kind of person who can make someone’s possibly shitty day a lot better with a smile and a British accent. I guess I just want to say that you should keep an eye out for the good moments in the days when it seems like nothing could go right. Because they’re there, and they’re beautiful. Don’t write a day off just because it got off to a rocky start. I mean, look at me. I took that early bird wake up call (pun intended) and made it work in my favor.

   Also, doing this— just going out early in the morning with my laptop and music— inspired the hell out of me. So while I know it’s easy and appealing for creative people to say, “I’m uninspired, I think I’m just going to stay home and watch Parks & Recreation for the third time this year...” It’s so much better for you to do the exact opposite. Get out there, see the world. Get up early, stay out late. Experience the shitty things and the delightful surprises, and write, create, think, make art about all of them. Because all of those experiences, whether they are good or bad, in the end are just experiences. And at the end of our lives, that’s all that matters. Experiences, moments, stories, they’re truly the only currency we have. I’m starting to realize that, all because a stupid bird woke me up at 5:30 this morning and prevented me from going back to sleep. How crazy is that? 

   So the next time you're having a crappy day, do as Jean-Ralphio Saperstein from Parks & Recreation says, and "turn that friz-own upsi-dizzity."

 -Fran