Accio...

...happiness.

It is that time of year for me again, dear readers.  Though it may not be "that time of year" for anyone else.  Actually, maybe no one else deals with this time of the year or...

I should explain.  This will be about Harry Potter.

The one in the glasses, for you non-Potter heads.

Since my junior year of college, every time fall comes around is "re-read Harry Potter" time for me.  I swear, there is a reason.  I did not begin reading the Harry Potter books until the summer right before my junior year of college.  I had nothing against them, personally.  Just never got around to it.  Well, actually, when I was a kid I was discouraged from reading them because my mother had been incorrectly informed about their content by some well-meaning (if mildly paranoid) church moms.  They seemed to believe that the Harry Potter books contained some secret portal to hell that would render me some sort of Satan-influenced deviant.  Because no other children's books deal with fantasy worlds and I would obviously be confused and start actively pursuing witchcraft after reading them due to my inability to distinguish a story from reality.

But I digress.

I do that a lot.  Maybe I should wear this as a warning.

I read the first two books the summer before I left for my study-abroad trip and I liked them.  The characters were interesting and dynamic and the writing, while definitely children's-book level, was used to tell some pretty wonderful stories.  I assumed that I would finish them when I got home because, although I enjoyed them, I didn't really see a lot of opportunity for me to continue reading the books when we would be moving towns every three to four days.

Then, one day early on in the trip, we were let loose for several hours of the afternoon.  We had nowhere to be until meeting up with the group again for dinner.  It being an extremely wet and gray day in London, my friend and I, both needing a little rest, decided to find a bookstore and disappear into it for a few hours.  I began doing my traditional bookstore-browsing and discovered the third Harry Potter book in the children's section.  "Why not?" I thought.  "It will be a good way to pass some time."  I sat in the store and read through that book for the next four hours.

I was hooked.

This book will do that to you.

For the rest of the trip, any book-reading opportunity became an excuse to sneak away and read more Harry Potter.  I finished the fifth book in a bookstore/coffee shop in Oxford, quietly weeping into my sleeve and trying not to snuffle.  I didn't want the laptop-and-textbook-wielding students to know that while they pored over Proust or wrote up economic strategies, I was sobbing in the corner over the death of a fictional character.

I don't cry as pretty as this.

I finished the final two books over Christmas break back home in Montana (accompanied by long bouts of sobbing.  Seriously.  Those books).  I know that everyone who read the books as they came out already had come to terms with the end of the series and such, but I felt a palpable sense of loss as I was finishing the final book.  It was over.

Then, of course, I remembered that I could re-read them.

I think, at this point, I have read the entire series through at least seven times.  Much of it has been in the fall.  I feel the need for Harry Potter at many times, but, for some reason, fall seems to make Harry-Potter-reading necessary for me.  Maybe it reminds me of the first time I read the books and fell in love with the characters.  I just start craving Harry Potter in the fall.

I also crave pumpkin-related things, but that's another topic.

This Potter-fix has great timing this year for...well...a completely nerdy reason.  I am living in Pullman this year with Tyler and Pullman is a tiny town.  We have been incredibly lucky and we have found some great people in the grad department and beyond to hang out with but...I just can't help getting lonely sometimes.

Don't get me wrong.  These people are great.  And Tyler is wonderful.  But I am notoriously bad at getting to know new people.  It generally takes me ages to establish any kind of intimacy with anyone.  And I miss my friends.  I miss being able to talk with people who know me.  Really know me.  And know my background and my family and my personality and just...understand me.  I miss having conversations about real, personal, sometimes uncomfortable things.  I miss having a real community around me.  Maybe I am just spoiled in a way.  I am used to the small town I grew up in, where everyone knows you and your family and what you've been like in school for the past twelve years.  I got that same thing at college by joining an incredibly tight-knit dorm and a great group of friends.  Now, out on my own with my friends scattered around the world I feel...lost.

Different kind of lost, guys.

That's why Harry Potter helps a bit.  I know this is a brand of nerdy bordering on psychotic, but the characters in those books...they feel like friends.  I know they are not friends I can interact with.  I know they are not real people who actually know me.  I am not saying they are a viable substitute for real, living, breathing, talking friends.  But during a time of year where I am feeling lonely, it's nice to jump into familiar stories of familiar people growing and shifting and becoming who they are.  It's nice to feel a part of that.  It's nice to feel that, if these people existed, I would totally hang out with them.  And it's kind of nice to vicariously be a part of the type of fellowship and interactions that they have with one another.

To all my friends, scattered wherever you have been scattered:  I miss and love all of you.
To all of the people where I am now:  I will try to be brave enough to make real friendships with you.
To all the Harry Potter lovers:  Thank you for not judging me too harshly.

They are an accepting group.

Now, if you will excuse me, a book is calling.

Growing up...

...not just for characters in "Peter Pan".

In this strange and mystical journey known as "becoming a grown-up", I have discovered some things that I believe to be true and good to remember.  Some of these come from "the happiness project", and some are just my own observations.  In order to share some of my hard-earned wisdom so that you, dear readers, do not have to make the same mistakes I have, I am list-forming this business and telling you how I came to these conclusions.  You may think some of these are silly, but I swear they still matter.

Super-Secret Truths for Being a Grown-Up:

It's okay to ask for help.  I absolutely swear that this is true.  I seem to be getting worse at this as I get older instead of better, so I should probably remind myself that this is important.  I keep on thinking that being out of college and married and all means that I should be able to do everything by myself.  I resent it when my parents ask if I am going to doctor's appointments or checking up on the car.  I get annoyed when Tyler reminds me to go to bed early when I am sick.  I even get snippy sometimes when he is just doing something nice for me.  Tyler will go to do the laundry and I will get all offended, because somehow his nice gesture is really saying that he doesn't trust me to do the laundry.  This is ridiculous, of course.  I just have a husband who likes being nice to me and his kindness upsets me, apparently.

Man, I'm a great wife.

I need to keep reminding myself that they don't tell me these things because they don't believe I can handle them, but because they want to help me.  I also need to be able to ask for help with things I can't do alone.  There are some things that I just don't know how to cook and Tyler has to help me.  I do not know how to do taxes.  I need help for it.  I have trouble making friends with new people.  Sometimes, I need advice.  Asking for help is not the end of the world and it does not make you weak.  It makes you human.  Don't freak out.

Do not do this.

Be nice to EVERYONE.  This includes the people that drive you nuts.  There are some people that I know who are draining and annoying and mockable and there are often times that I am impatient and rude with them.  This is not okay for a number of reasons.  The first is the basic rule that we learned in kindergarten, that we need to be nice to each other.  The second is that there are plenty of times that people around me have no desire to be nice to me, but I still expect common courtesy.  And the last reason is that being a jerk to people just shows that I am a jerk at heart and I really don't want to be a that person.  Being nice to others, even the ones that make me want to gouge my eyes out, actually makes me a nicer and more patient person.  I hope it does, anyway.

Waiting tables gave me lots of practice.

Bring a sweater.  Since junior high, I have never remembered this and I am always cold.  I always forgot jackets too, even in the winter.  Also, remember to bring appropriate shoes.  I once went on a high school band trip to Canada in the winter and brought nothing but dress shoes and sandals.  I have no explanation for this.

 Pictured: inappropriate flip-flop weather.

If you can't find something, clean.  I apologize to everyone that has witnessed or had to deal with the chaos of anywhere I live.

You can choose what you do.  You can't choose what you LIKE to do.  This seems very career-pertinent right now.  I do get some say with what jobs I accept (though this is somewhat limited by what jobs accept me) and I need to keep in mind that I may love a job that others would find mind-blowingly dull.  I like independent work.  I like research and writing big papers and reports.  I like finding little details and figuring out how things fit together.  I can't stand work that is repetitive and unchallenging.  Other people don't mind this.  Some other people even enjoy this.  I just need to remember that it is not a moral failing in me if I don't enjoy that as well.

I would run away screaming within a month.

What you do every day matters more than what you do once in a while.  If I make one grand gesture to Tyler of cleaning the kitchen once a month, that is nowhere near as meaningful as it would be if I made it a habit to keep the kitchen clean every day.  Or keep our room clean every day.  Or tell him I love him every day.

You don't have to be good at everything.  I can't tell if I am crazy competitive or a crazy perfectionist.  Maybe both.  But I can't stand to not excel at...pretty much everything I attempt.  I feel a profound sense of guilt and failure if I am not wonderful at every new thing I decide to do.  This should stop.  Eventually, I need to be realistic and admit that I am not great at everything.  Some things, I will always be bad at.  It's really ok.

This will never be me.

Over-the-counter medicines are very effective.  Decongestants, ibuprofen, cough syrup...these things have all become my dear friends recently.  It was something of a revelation  that I could be feeling better RIGHT NOW and for some reason I was putting that off.

What's fun for other people may not be fun for you (and vice versa).  I will never enjoy watching baseball, but I love watching soccer games.  I will never enjoy weeding or gardening.  I hate going to parties or mixers full of strangers.  Running for a workout is the most joyless and painful thing in the world for me.  At some point, I realized that I am much happier if I stop pretending to enjoy things that feel like a chore to me.  Sometimes, I wish I was the kind of person that loved meeting strangers or shopping or listening to country, but I am not.  I like going to ballets and listening to choral music.  I can spend an entire day wandering around a bookstore.  I read Shakespeare for fun when I was 10.  I probably understood maybe half of it but that was fun for me.  I know that many things I do for fun are not even remotely fun for others and that is fine with me.  I know that many people love baseball games and shopping, but I can't stand them.  Part of growing up is knowing what you do and do not like and being comfortable with admitting it.  Another part is beginning to spend your free time doing the things that you actually enjoy doing, not things that you feel like you should enjoy.

This is my kryptonite.

Doing what you know is good instead of what makes you feel good, often makes you feel good anyway.  This applies both physically and morally.  Working out when it's the last thing I want to do usually makes me feel better.  Keeping the lid on some gossip I've heard always makes me feel better than the rush of sharing it.  Sometimes it pays to be a little bit goody-two-shoes.

Hair dye is cheaper than a tattoo.  I get antsy every so often and I want some sort of change to make myself feel daring and badass.  Usually this is when I circle back to deciding I want a tattoo.  However, getting a tattoo just because you want to feel cool is really not a great reason.  Last time this happened, I went and bought some hair dye instead.  Going brunette was infinitely cheaper than getting inked and it still made me feel different.

Ok, not quite this different.

Only follow trends you actually like.  I will never wear animal print.  I don't care how fashionable it is.

Don't ever approach me with jeggings either.

Sometimes indulgence trumps denial, and that should be okay.  I should not have to feel overwhelming guilt if I decide that I want some ice cream for dessert today.  Diets are all well and good, but sometimes a person just needs ice cream.

You know you want me.

Not every day requires makeup.  No one will be appalled or offended if I do not put on makeup every time I see other people.  There is something to be said for being comfortable in your own skin.  Am I anti-makeup?  Not at all.  Makeup can give me a confidence kick when I need it.  It can make me feel dressed-up and beautiful sometimes.  I just find it freeing to realize that I still like the way I look when I don't have makeup on.

Chick flicks are a lie.  Real life relationships should not think stalking is flattering.  Obsession is not a mark of true love.  Being erratic and childlike and strange is not an automatic pathway to being adorable.  Guys do not often burst into impassioned speeches about true love and soul mates and destiny and THE ONE.  "Independent woman" should not equal "bitch".  Intelligence does not make a woman unappealing.  Relationships in real life happen between people who work normal jobs to pay the bills, who have friends that do not fall into convenient stereotypes, who are not thrown together by unrealistically wacky circumstances.

And the lead girl in "Elizabethtown" and the lead girl in "Garden State" are annoying tropes that exist to make the guy a better person.

Girls and boys:  be yourself, have fun, and get to know other people.  Do not search for your Edward or Bella.  You would not like them if they existed in real life.

This is a face you alert authorities about.