Head Full of Doubt/ Road Full of Promise

Whew. The Harry Potter post is done. That took me a few days to recover from, but I think it's about time to get going on the last few.

This brings us to Saturday, July 16th.

The Avett Brothers live in concert.

That's a nice, quiet picture of them. Makes you think it's going to be a nice, soulful, quiet evening of introspective country riffs, gentle clapping and innocent, almost childlike, folksy love songs.

But really, that night was more like this. A wild, blaring, soul-searching, foot-stomping craze of merciless Banjo shredding, electric vocals and open- heart surgery. (That last bit being figurative, of course.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tl4wLgw-6Zk&feature=relmfu

This video doesn't really even do justice to just how much energy these guys gave to their performance. They were amazing.

On the opposite end, they also gave some of the most gut-wrenching performances of quiet love songs. You couldn't help but feel their love, heartache, joy, excitement well over and pour forth into the sway of your hips, the rise of your arms, the closing of your eyes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XybDZ9I9k4k&feature=related

The concert took place in Salem, which give or take, is about an hour from my house. The sun was shining beautifully in the late afternoon as we piled into the car and headed south. We were early, but early is a good thing. There were no lines to find parking, no lines to get inside, and no lines to buy t-shirts. It was at an amphitheater, so we enjoyed the open air and the late-afternoon sun heating our excited bodies as we waited for the concert to start.

There were several foodstands, and beer stands, and Becca and I shared a shaved ice. Soon the opening band were on. Soon after that, it was time for the AB to come out. Right as the very first song played, I could tell this was going to be a momentous occasion, an evening to remember for months and years to come. And now that it's over, I can attest to that notion.

Without a doubt, that was one of the funnest concerts I've ever been to. It was the first time I've ever been to a concert where I felt like I could actually let go. Just enjoy it for what it was. I felt alive and present in each individual moment, thriving. There was no wondering what song they would play next, no fear of the night growing thin, and the end of the concert drawing near. There was no curious wonderings about the people around me, no distractions whatsoever from the only thing that truly mattered in that moment, which was the music.

Each word layered itself on me, and each song spoke in different tones.

I held Becca's hand and we swayed back and forth, our hands over our hearts, eyes closed as we sang words that we've come to know and to love. Words that have spoken a sort of promise over our lives, and words that have spoken a desire for the kind of futures we're headed towards.

The entire experience was out of this world.

Everybody loved them. Every person there exuded joy, and happiness, love for the band, love for the music, love for the moment.
Nothing was fake, there were no pretenses. Everyone was just there, together. Everyone was begging for more.

After their last song, the entire amphitheater screamed for at least three whole minutes, nonstop. They came back out and played two more songs, which I honestly don't think they had planned on doing.

"Thank you so much for inviting us back so soon."

I can't even imagine what it would be like as a musician to know you hold that much sway over a group of people. That you have influenced an entire crowd so strongly, and that what you have created has moved so many people that they literally will not stop screaming for more. We were hungered for what they had to give to us. It was like a simple, basic, animalistic need. We were not ready to let go, we physically could not leave. We needed more.
It was one of the most unusual and inexplicable things I've ever been a part of, and when they came back out for those last two songs, they played their hearts out.

They couldn't give us anything less.

Becca and I were discussing it afterwards, and we felt very close to something during the entire evening. It was hard to place at first, but then later we both realized that we felt very close to God that night.
We both believe he was showing us a little snippet of what He has planned for us. He's showing us our dreams, poured forth into physicality. A little of that joy, a lot of that music, a little of that chaos, and a lot of being together. One more crumb that He's dropped to lead us directly to where we're supposed to be, and for that, we both gave thanks.

We felt at home there. Together, with the music, and the other people. We felt for once like that atmosphere was exactly where we belonged. We would not be welcomed anywhere else in the world at that moment, because that is exactly where we were meant to be.

And when you can feel that coursing through your blood, as your arms are raised high and your eyes are tightly shut, nothing else even comes close to the euphoria of being where you know you belong.

"There was a dream, and one day I could see it. Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it. And there was a kid, with a head full of doubt, so I'll scream 'til I die, and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out."

Wishing you all the love and chocolate chips in the world,

Hannah

Xx

The Death of Something Beautiful

"To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure." -Albus Dumbledore

I've been thinking a lot lately about how I was planning on approaching this post.

I didn't know where to begin. I didn't know how to start. I didn't know how to accept it for what it was, and write about it for what it meant to me.

I really wasn't ready to write about it until yesterday.

Yesterday I took my dad and saw Harry Potter 7 part 2 for the second time. The second time watching it was when it really all began to sink in, and the clarity of what it meant to me was suddenly very real. I know now exactly what I want to say, and I'm thankful for the technological advances of the internet, which allow for letter-type updates free from blurry, tear stained blotches.

Thursday. July 14th. Old friends, Lexis and Zoe Kreutzer traveled from Seattle to spend the remainder of the weekend with Beks and I, and to embark together on the massive (in more ways than one) journey that would be the final midnight showing of any Harry Potter movie, ever. Raelyn accompanied us on our journey, for which I am extremely glad. Without her, I believe the four of us would have been swept up entirely by sadness. She brought a light of joy and humor to the end of our beloved saga. I know it sounds crazy that all of this is coming from the hype surrounding a silly kids' movie, but these feelings are absolutely real to me, and I need to let them all out so as to avoid any form of consumption.

The movie.

What can I say? The first time watching it was something I'll never forget. There was an electric excitement, a dizzying dread, and an overwhelming sadness that caused yours truly to stifle loud, uncomfortable sobs in the middle of a dark, quiet theater at 2 AM in the morning. There were moments of stillness where not a single person in the theater made a sound. I'm positive all of us were holding our breath in unison, even the ones who weren't lifelong fanatics.

Each moment, each scene passed slowly. Whether intentional from the director's chair or not, each scene was just long enough to tuck away into an individual, private memory. Each scene was just long enough to be treasured, one last time.

I feel I should explain this to those of you who maybe like Harry Potter, but don't understand the extreme emotion that others like myself experienced that night.

I've thought a lot about it the past week.
Why is it that this movie, this series means so much to me? I mean, really. The characters aren't real people. It's not a real place. None of this really happened, so why is it affecting me so heavily?

Let me tell you what I realized. It's something I've always known, but I've never really acknowledged or thought about. It just felt like second nature.

I was four years old when the first book came out. Naturally, this didn't mean much to me then. It was three years later, however, when the first movie came out, that I was truly touched by magic.

For my seventh birthday, my parents took me and Amber to see Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone in theaters. I saw it once, begged my parents to take me again, and not a week later, the first book was in my hands and I read it in under 24 hours.

After that, it was history. Next came Chamber of Secrets. Prisoner of Azkaban. A wait.... and then! Goblet of Fire. More waiting. Order of the Pheonix. Preordered and delivered and devoured with Amber in Hawaii was Half- Blood Prince. And then an excruciatingly long wait for the finale. The end. The Deathly Hallows.

It's okay, we all told ourselves after hours and hours of crying, at least we still have three more movies to go through. (You wouldn't believe the hurrahs that resounded when we realized we had four movies, because the last was being split into two.)

My friends and I lived, breathed, and loved Harry Potter. We had midnight showing parties. We had Harry Potter-themed birthday parties. We played Harry Potter games. We read the fanfiction. We joined the chatrooms on SnitchSeeker and MuggleNet. We read together. We watched together. We cried and laughed and shrieked and grew together.

For ten and a half years, I lived in Harry Potter. I grew up with the characters. I've reread the books dozens of times. On my eleventh birthday I waited for my letter from Hogwarts. I bought a wand in Ollivander's Wand Shop at Universal Studios in Florida this past winter. You don't experience something for almost eleven years without believing it.

Those characters that died in the very end? They were real to me. They have always been real to me. Watching them die, and watching Harry fight the epitome of evil, and watching a place that I love dearly be torn apart and ruined was like watching my dearest friends and family die. On a huge screen, in front of hundreds of other of people. It was not only the height of interactive cinematography, but it was the most excruciating movie I've ever had to sit through.

I've stockpiled eleven years of memories. Eleven years. The most impressionable eleven years of a person's life, really. From 7 to 18. My childhood was a childhood that blossomed and matured with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, the twins, Dumbledore, Hagrid, Remus, Tonks, Snape, Mrs. Weasley.

Their battles were my battles.

And now it's over.

And of course, I cried. I cried like a baby. I mean, I knew there would be tears, but I didn't expect to bawl. I had to bite my finger in order to keep from emitting earth-shattering sobs. I was trying so hard to stifle my sobs and be quiet, that I literally almost started hyperventilating because I couldn't breathe.
I'm not exaggerating.

At the end of the movie, I didn't want to move. I didn't want to leave that spot. I didn't want to go home and take off my Team Draco shirt. I didn't want to admit that it was over.

I still don't want to admit it's over.

I cried just as much the second time I saw it as I did the first time. Maybe even more, because instead of just feeling the intensity of the moment, I felt the end of a chapter in my life. I felt the door closing.

I'll always have the memories, and I'm not done reading those books. I'll never be done reading Harry Potter. So in a sense, it's not over, because I'm not willing to let it die completely.

But at the same time, it is the end. There will be no more books. There will be no more movies. Eventually, many years from now, the Hogwarts and Hogsmeade Park at Universal Studios will become passe. And it will be torn down and replaced with something current and more exciting. The fans will grow old, the passion will fade.

A new phenomenon in the world of children's literature will rise, as has been proven by history, and the memory of Harry Potter will, in time, diminish.

And not unlike the story of Peter Pan and Wendy Darling, the time has also come for me to grow up. Wendy held on to Neverland as long as she could, but eventually, even she had to move on.

Eleven years. Is it long enough?

Is this the sign that I needed?

The single, solitary icon that classified my childhood, and my entire generation, has ended.

My generation, my age group, really is the Generation of HP. We were the ones to grow up with the characters. We are the ones most affected by this.

And it's up to us to keep the magic alive for as long as possible. The greatest way we can pay tribute to JK Rowling and the opportunities she has afforded us for happiness is to keep the memory alive and thriving.

I think I'll end with a thought-provoking question.

If I could write a thank you letter to JKR in less than 100 words, what on earth would I say?

I think, quite simply, all I would say, in the center of the page, in neat, black letters, would be:

Thank you for eleven years of true magic.

Because honestly, that pretty much sums it up, doesn't it?

Wishing you all the love and HoneyDukes chocolate in the world.

Xx,

Hannah

Wednesday Dreaming

I've got about 5 more days to finish the posts on the week that Beks spent at my house.

I last posted about our Tuesday afternoon photoshoot, which ended with a stir-fry dinner cooked in Andy's honor, an hour of struggling to stay awake through bible study, and a giggly and loud introduction of Andy to the movie Eragon. Which we never actually finished.

Wednesday was detox day. As in, Becca and I slept in very late, made chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast and laid around in our pajamas and sweatpants until late in the afternoon. We basically spent all day falling back in love with Ireland.

Our Ireland.

We reminded ourselves of exactly what made us fall so hard in the first place, and how to maintain that love and that fire through everyday life.

We typed random beaches, cross-streets, pubs and towns into google maps, zoomed all the way in, and gave ourselves a virtual walking tour of different districts of Donegal, Derry City, and Sligo.

There were no smells, no sounds, no rushes of air, no tingling sensations of culture or strangers, but oh, there was a sight to behold. There were dreams to be had. Futures to be made. Heartfelt exclamations of, "Oh, let's eat there for breakfast every saturday morning!" and "Can I please get a job THERE?!" and, "Ohhhh. Look at that."

It was one of the most therapeutic and comforting experiences we've ever had. It was every reassuring gesture that we're not kidding ourselves: this truly is where we're meant to be.

And even though I was exhausted, it put me in a great mindset for work that night.

I collect experiences like I collect seashells. Every seashell, whether only a memory, or a physical possession, moves me. Every experience is laced with a place that owns a small piece of my heart.

Donegal is a place that I have never been to. But it is an experience I have every single day, because it feeds my desires, my dreams, my motivations, my own wild imagination. It is the greatest experience in my collection, because it hasn't happened yet. Even though it really already has.

I'm not sure I can explain it, I just know where it lives. Inside of me.

Born This Way

"I'm beautiful in my way, 'cause God makes no mistakes. I'm on the right track, baby, I was born this way."

Last weekend, four days before she got here, Becca and I got an idea into both of our heads for a Born This Way photoshoot involving the two of us, our dearest friend Andy, and a whole lot of black Sharpie permanent markers.

We'd been talking a lot lately about vulnerabilities and insecurities, and decided to base an entire photoshoot off of all the things we were subconsciously ashamed of or felt a guilty sort of pride about. And, seeing as we were spending one last day with Andy who (we thought) was shipping off to bootcamp in August for 9 months (He still is, just not in August. In November.), we decided to go out with a bang and do something really artsy and out there, and to make a lot of crazy memories while doing it. And we did.

Here's a few of the finished results.

As I look back on it, I feel a lot of mixed emotions. This was a really fun project to work on, making all the signs and choosing fonts that portrayed each character, each flaw beautifully and staging the pictures to accentuate the expression; I like to think it generated a lot of thought for each of us, a lot of which we vocalized and discussed together, but most of which we kept to ourselves. Pondering. Mulling. Weighing it all in our minds.

Some of the photos we took were very silly, very tongue-in-cheek, but on the other hand, some of them were really personal. We really put a lot of time into showcasing our vulnerabilities, and it was pretty intimidating.
Nobody likes to admit they're flawed. Nobody likes to embrace their insecurities and waltz around a public park with the words "Fat Bottom" or "Attention Whore" emblazoned across their chests.

But we did it, and I like to think we accomplished something wonderful in the name of art, here.

Because really, our imperfections are what make us beautiful. Flaws just add character.
Insecurities make us human.

Not to mention, it was an exceptional bonding experience because the three of us were basically naked in front of a crowd of people, only instead of wearing nothing but skin, we were wearing nothing but the truth.

And that is the most incredible part of all. The memories we made were fantastic, and I cherish them, and I have three of the signs hanging in my room right now. The rest are tucked away in my closet, to be looked at in future times of love and laughter and memories.

Although it was really sad that we all knew we weren't going to see each other for very much longer, we also know we're always going to be a part of each other's lives. I can't imagine my life without either of these two, and I'm blessed they're both just as out there and crazy as I am.
Because this is the kind of thing that people always talk about doing, but nobody ever does.
And yet, we did. And I'm thankful for that.

And for the memories.

I love you both.

Sending you all the love and chocolate chips in the world, whether you're headed to Boot Camp or Fashion College.

Thank God for your flaws because He truly makes no mistakes.

Xx,

Hannah

Everything and Nothing

What a week.


This has been one of the best weeks of my life, in complete and honest retrospect.

I cannot begin to express the love and the companionship and the memories that were made, revisited and refreshed this past 7 days.
I'm overwhelmed with emotion.

The shift has happened.

Life is changing, and after this highly pivotal week, everything will be different. Summer is now on the downward slope, and I don't know what September will bring. If I get accepted to Bible School, I'll be leaving in a little over 5 months. Leaving.

A post about that, later.

I can't get sidetracked with more emotion. My little body cannot hold any more joy, sorrow, regret, excitement, love, pride, fear or contentment at this moment.

I will be posting about the separate events one by one, as combining them all into one post would be much too long and boring for you to even consider reading, and reflections are more likely to sink in the shorter they are.

And so, it's finally looking like July is the month of all months for posts, now. By the time I'm done recapping this week there'll probably be at least 4 new posts. :)

I hope you're all doing well.
I'm starving, so after this I'm going to grab a late lunch, and settle in to start my reflections.

Love. Give. Purify. Reflect. Realise.

All the love and the chocolate chips in the world,

Hannah

Xx

Staff Bulletin

Confession: I cannot make a successful pot of coffee. Ever.

Side note: Lean On Me- Bill Withers just makes me move. I can't help it. It's like psycho-hypnosis.

Announcement: Becca is coming into town this afternoon and we're going to send a dear friend off to Bootcamp in style, spend a teary-eyed evening watching Harry Potter 7 part 2 at midnight with beautiful old friends, and also travel to Salem to partake in the best night of our lives, which will be: The Avett Brothers live in concert. Outdoors concert. So it's bound to be an emotional week. Be forewarned for the blog updates following all of these events.


Addendum: Seeing as there is lots to be done before she gets here, I need to get moving. Watery coffee and all.

Sending you all the love and chocolate chips in the world,

Hannah.

Post script: 531 days until Ireland Christmas 2012. Another six months and we'll start looking at plane tickets. :)

Fits of Inspiration

Summertime comes with a joyous, resounding swell of inspirations to me year after year. Inspiration is everywhere. In the air, in the sun-struck flowers, in the smell of baking grass, in the sharp, hot pavement beneath my bare feet.

In toe rings, sunglasses, short shorts and hammocks.

In open windows and iced coffee drinks, loud music and late nights.

I can't escape it, nor do I ever want to. And the beautiful thing about this inspiration, is that it is never limited to only one outlet: writing. No, no. In the summertime I revisit my love of painting, and photography, sketching, songwriting, dancing, singing and even designing.

It's every single element of my inner artsy being drawn out and dramatized and glorified, and it makes me feel young. Youthful. I smile every day.

"Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of it's chiefest charms." -Oscar Wilde.

Yesterday I was buzzing all day long with an inescapable fit of inspiration. It was electrifying, and I was bubbly and antsy and excited all day long until I finally channeled the inspiration and set to work on one of my favorite artsy past-times: inspiration collages.

Every now and then I get the feeling I need to re-vamp my everyday source of inspiration.
There are certain things that inspire me no matter what the weather, mood or day looks like. These things are my black and white canvas photo of Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's that hangs above my desk, my dragonfly garden lights that hang around my vanity mirror. My goldfish. My black and white photographs of Michael Corleone, my grandmother on her wedding day, Barbra Streisand. I can garner inspiration from these anytime that I want, but that's not always enough to keep the writing fresh and lively and driven towards new depths.

So I take a few hours and gather some magazines, spend a long time googling images and printing them off, go through old mementos, stickers, dried flowers, notes, etc. And I put together a new collage of things that challenge me to go further, to press boundaries, to

beat myself and the last piece I wrote. Things that challenge me everyday to live life the way I desperately want to.

That's what I did yesterday, and I have to say, I am overwhelmed with love for the result.

A few months ago, I started a board strictly for pictures of places that I want to travel to someday, and yesterday I added to it. I loosened the boundaries of landscape photographs to anything and everything that goes along with these places.

I sat at the computer for an hour and a half and typed the most random things into Google Images and found the most fabulous results.

"Vintage posters." "Banjo art." "Mustaches." "Mermaids." "Wellies." "Indian Ashrams." "Glass jars."

Everything that has ever triggered my imagination, I try to put somewhere on these boards.

Imagination is the greatest gift we have as writers, artists, poets, musicians, dreamers.

Without imagination the world would still be stuck in the dark ages. And the most important thing to remember is not to limit your imagination.

I've been on this huge kick lately about mermaids, and magical creatures, and how you should never believe they're not real. Because that's limiting your imagination, and the more you limit yourself, the more unhappy you're going to be.

All the best writers say that we should forever keep a sense of childlike innocence about us.

Live every day as if you're seeing the most common of occurences as the most miraculous experiences. Every day, view the world through the wide, starry eyes of a child. Because everything around you truly is a gift, a miracle, an incredible happenstance of wonder. Jesus Christ even said that "those who do not receive the Kingdom of God like a child, will not enter it at all." (Mark 10:15)

And what do children believe? They believe in magic. And miracles. Fairies, Neverland, Mermaids, Dragons, Wood Nymphs, Unicorns, Narnia ......

Take Narnia for instance. C.S. Lewis is hands-down one of the greatest Christian authors of all time, and he created a magical world for children; let's be honest, it wasn't only created for children, but for adults as well. How could he create something he didn't believe in? I don't believe he did. I firmly believe that he found truth and light and faith in creating this amazing magical ethereal place, because he had what everyone should have: an unlimited imagination.

So why shouldn't I believe in mermaids and fairies?

I do. If I didn't, everything I believed and stood for and loved in my childhood would be dead.

You're never too old to stop believing.

That's why there's a picture of a mermaid on my board, for inspiration. But it's also just a reminder to never grow all the way up. To never lose sight of imagination and what really matters, which is to always have faith in the impossible. Because I believe that's where God loves to reveal His plans to us the most. That's His realm of reaching us. And that's why we have to come more than just halfway, because if we don't believe, we don't receive.

I also found the most amazing picture as I was looking up images of Indian Ashrams.

It's of a small plaque at the entrance to an Ashram somewhere in the foothills of India, that says in big white letters " Love. Give. Purify. Meditate. Realise."

I was struck. Suddenly I wanted so badly to paint my own entrance sign just like it, except for the fact that I would exchange the word "Meditate" for the word "Reflect" because Meditate is not my favorite word, and I think Reflect captures our duties as Christians very well, and it sounds less Eastern and Buddhist..... ;)

This small picture is at the very center of my board, and it's one of the most inspiring pictures I have. It resides next to a photo of an old brick building in the heart of Derry City in Ireland, with a mural blurting "LONDONDERRY WEST BANK LOYALISTS STILL UNDER SIEGE NO SURRENDER." And on the other side is a picture of a beautiful woman doing a beautiful Bikram yoga pose on a beautiful beach and the essence of the picture screams "Simple balance."

Which is something I think I need in my life.

Among the other pictures on my board, I have a vintage poster of an antique bicycle that says
"Simplicity is the key to successful living."

A gorgeous photograph of a row of apartments in New Orleans' French Quarter.

The Fountain in the Court of the Lions at the Alhambra in Granada, Spain. Somewhere I want to travel to very, very much.

A picture that says "I heart" with a picture of a fabulous handlebar mustache underneath.

The skyline of Jerusalem.

A postcard my Grandma Annie sent to my family before I was born of a beautiful castle she visited in Germany, where I plan to go to someday to gain another experience of feeling close to her.

An enchanting picture of vibrantly colored and heavily adorned Balinese women and children in a street celebration.

A joker from a deck of cards brought back to me from Las Vegas by my Grandma Ilene.

A row of crayola colored sheds in Cape Town.

A vintage photo of a stockpile of banjos, all thrown together and worn out and rustic.

A "Lovely Day for a Guinness" poster and my hometown bumper sticker blaring "KEEP PORTLAND WEIRD!"

It's not completely done yet, I have many more things to add to it, but right now I love it just the way it is.

The inspiration is pealing out in loud waves of fresh material!

And next to it, is a card I recieved from my soul sister which says, "She dreams of mermaids and motorcycles and meeting a man who can dance... This is the employment my soul delights in."

And with that I leave you.

Wishing you all the imagination and chocolate chips in the world!!

Love,

Hannah

The Feeling of Feeling

Have you ever noticed that missing something or someone can feel different depending on the thing or the person?

Sometimes you miss things you've never experienced. People you've never met. And that feels like a quick, sharp pain, almost like a powerful inhalation of ice cold air after a long, heavy run. It creeps up on you at the most unexpected times. A burst of excruciating white-hot pain, and then it's gone. Those moments prick you like knives, because you don't know what it is you're missing, and therefore it's a temporary pain. You can't dwell on it, and pretty soon, it's over before you know it. You don't know what you're missing so how can it possibly hurt you for very long? It can't.

It's when you miss somebody you know or something you've experienced that the dull ache begins to set in. It's there all the time, a tiny, uncomfortable prod at the back of your mind, like a scratchy piece of wool rubbing you the wrong way. Not enough to hurt, but enough to put you in constant discomfort, until you experience a really amazing moment, a memory in the making, and then that uncomfortable prod turns into a throbbing, pulsing, dull ache. You know you'll see that person again, but all you want is them standing right next to you at that moment, regardless of when you know you'll see them again. Knowing isn't enough. You want to feel them there, so close you could touch them.

These moments are hard. Missing your best friend who lives in another state is hard. Missing your sister and brother-in-law and niece who live across the country is hard. Missing the ocean waves outside your window. Missing the smell of freshly washed earth on a summer morning after a late night summer rain. Missing the way the light hit the trees from your vantage point, lying down on the trampoline, looking upwards. Missing your grandmother who lives across worlds, across skies and heavens above you is hard.
Missing the way you used to feel about someone is the hardest thing to miss, though.

You wish you could relive every moment of love, and laughter, and happiness over and over again until all those emotions sink through and rekindle themselves once more in your heart. You wish spending time with them made you feel the way it used to. Like nothing bad could ever happen, and you were the luckiest person in the world, instead of missing yourself when you're around them, and wishing you were different, wishing they were different.

I wish I could relive last summer every new day that goes by.

I wish I could feel the same love, the same excitement, the same satisfaction.

I miss the way I felt last summer. I miss the contentment, the joy, the camaraderie, the closeness I still had with a lot of people.

But underneath it all, I'm comfortable with this new summer because I'm comfortable with myself moreso than I was last summer.

And although it hurts realising that I've lost things I'm never going to get back, and that I'm beginning to lose things I never even thought I'd let go of, I'm okay. I wish it wasn't happening this way, but it is. I can't stop it, so I might as well embrace it.

God gives you things, and people, in life to help you get through a rough time. Sometimes, He gives you things to get you through a time in your life that you didn't even know was rough until you look back on it a year after it happened. Sometimes the things He gives you are completely unexpected, and the only way you can really know that it was sent as a comfort to you is to recognize how you feel about that one thing.
And if you find yourself missing the way you felt about it a year later, you realize that no matter how hard you try, you're not going to feel the same as you did then about it, because you're not going through the same things now that you were.

I miss the way I used to feel about McFly songs. Like I was safe, high in the sky and nobody could ever touch me.
That's an amazing feeling and no matter how hard I try, I can't make myself feel like that again about them. And I've only just realized that I can't do it because I'm not going through the same life changes I was then, and I'm not going through that rough time anymore. God gave those songs to me to get me through an extremely shaky and emotional three years of my life..... But those three years are over, and so is the need to rely on those gifts.
I simply can't feel that way anymore.
I miss it. But I can't do anything about it.

And sometimes, this happens with people too.
It's not that you grow apart from a friend, it's just that you realize that friend was sent to you in a time of need, and while you still love them unconditionally and are invariably close, you realize you don't need them anymore. And you wish you did. You miss that reliance, that dependence, that feeling like you were never alone because of what the two or three or four of you had been through. You wish you could call all those emotions up again, but you just can't.

And that's hard, because subconsciously, you guilt yourself into feeling like this means you don't love them anymore.
Which isn't true.
But when you realize you don't need someone as much as you used to, you automatically start to withdraw a little bit. It's only the truth, but it's hard for the other person sometimes. Sometimes you have to realize you're headed in two different directions, and a little bit of detachment is only necessary to adjust to the future. Sometimes you have to realize your interests aren't exactly in line anymore, you don't believe the same truths. Sometimes you have to realize that you're going to leave someday, leave all of this behind, and they're going to go on living life without you, growing closer to each other while you're gone, and you're going to miss a lot of jokes and laughter and hard times and happy times, and a little bit of conscious withdrawal and detachment is healthy and necessary to get through all of those things, because you know it's going to hurt a lot.

And sometimes you have to reconcile yourself to the fact that you shouldn't feel guilty for feeling this way. It's only natural. It's only love. It's just shining in a different light.

And these are the thoughts that have been plaguing me a lot the past couple of weeks.
And as I celebrated Independence Day tonight with good friends and family, I began to feel that dull ache creeping in, because I was starting to miss the way things used to be. I missed the things I couldn't get back, and the feelings I couldn't bring myself to experience again. It's all a part of growing up, changing, molding, shaping into yourself.

It feels like an exaggerated sort of detachment, a sort of numbness, if you will, but its only temporary.
Soon enough, I'll find a place where I really feel like I belong, instead of feeling like I'm in search of that place.

And so I leave you tonight with a song that's been on my mind all week.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PZiW_9TDrnM



"Lately I feel like I'm fooling myself, either that or I'm fooling everyone else. And lately I feel like a piece of myself is hanging around for everyone to hold. Lately it's hard to let it all go, but it's going, going, gone right out my door."




Sending you all the love and chocolate chips in the world,

Hannah

Xx

Stronger Than Yesterday

Sometimes I wonder how many other people listened to S Club 7 when they were younger. Hope For The Future is one of the best songs on their album. I miss listening to S Club.
My cousins and I used to put the album on repeat and make up dance routines and lip sync the words, pretending we were singing into those ball-shaped Britney Spears microphones.
Being a kid and pretending to be just like Britney Spears is without a doubt, one of the funnest things you can do at that age.
My cousins and I used to clean the kitchen singing Dear Diary, and my friend Amber and I used to have dress up fashion shows and listen to Hit Me Baby One More Time. Those were the days!

Speaking of Miss Britney, I actually fulfilled a lifelong dream and saw her in concert on Tuesday. Yes, I won't deny, I've been a fan of Britney ever since I was a little girl. Her music defined my generation. And even though people say she was only living her 15 minutes of fame, the fact that she's 29 years old and still topping the charts after 15 years tells me her 15 minutes ended a long time ago.
She's an icon. And her concert was absolute proof that she is one of the most hard-working celebs in the business.
She's really an amazing person to have gone through all that she's had to endure, a complete mental breakdown, several failed marriages, loosing custody of her kids, and not letting those things ruin her. They just made her work harder, and here she is, 29 years old, in the best shape of her life, back on top and blowing people away with her dedication.

She might be unorthodox, and you can say what you will about her personal hygiene or lack thereof, and sometimes she's made awful mistakes, but who hasn't?
She's turned it all around, and the greatest thing is she's not afraid to make fun of herself, which proves that she's in a good place.

Honestly, the experience of her concert has made me feel that nobody can legitimately make fun of Britney Spears anymore because she is too incredible and absolutely undeserving of that kind of judgement. I've been to a handful of amazing concerts, and I have seen a lot of highly talented and impressive performers, but none of them have even come close to the level of Britney's performance.
It was the best live show I've ever seen, and I don't see anybody topping that in the near future.

It's really made me think a lot in the past few days about celebrities and the scrutiny they live under every single day, and honestly, we're all awful people for making fun of them, or judging them, or throwing stones when really we should be throwing flowers of encouragement and understanding.
Do you think we could survive under constant watch and monitoring like that?
Who's to say you or I wouldn't screw up just as bad?
It's not fair to them. We don't know them, their lives, we don't know what they're capable of.

Brit's been to hell and back, figuratively speaking, and she's persevered and she's proven herself to be real. Courageous, strong, unwilling to break.
Isn't that what we all want for ourselves?

Not to mention, she's cleaned up her life so much, that her and KFed are looking to reconcile their family legally by agreeing to a 50/50 custody. And apparently, the judge isn't adamant that it's a bad idea.

So here's mad props to Britney, for making the comeback of the century.
Even I wasn't expecting her to recover from shaving her head, dating a psychopath, loosing her kids, and everything else she lost.

But life is what you make of it, and she's made her life whole again.

You go, girl.

Hot Or Not?

Reader Poll:

Zac Efron.

Yummy or Crummy?

I'd have to go with yummy.

It's hard to explain though, because I'm googling images of him and he has to be the most unphotogenic person ever. All of his pictures make him look ugly. But he's not.

Except for this picture.

It's a natural shot, and therefore, not unattractive. His red carpet photos are less than stimulating, but this is nice. And you know, he's really a pretty good actor. And his voice isn't bad either. He's just likeable. I would date Zac Efron.
That doesn't mean much, though, because I also said once that I would date Nick Jonas just to say I dated a Jonas Brother. I'm kind of an awful person sometimes. ;)
But Zac Efron sings better than Nick Jonas, and seems to wear less skinny jeans, which is always a plus.
Seriously. Who came up with those awful jeans in the first place? They don't look good on girls, and they absolutely do not look good on guys. Ever. Period. Exclamation point. Etc.

What do you guys think?

(About Zac Efron. Not skinny jeans. Although if you feel strongly about them, feel free to share your opinions. It's a free country. I won't judge. ;)