There And Back Again: A Reader's Tale

When I was four years old, my dad came home beaming from the used video store.  “You’ll never believe what I found!” he said excitedly.  I had been asking for the latest Land Before Time tape, so I was disappointed when I saw that he had let me down.  In fact, I threw a full-on fit.  I tearfully told him to take the movie back.

“This was my favorite book when I was just a little older than you,” he said, a bit crestfallen.  “Just watch it.  You’ll love it.”

It didn’t take too much coercion to get me to sit down and watch a movie, Land Before Time or not.  So I watched, at first skeptical of the seventies-style animation, terrifying creatures, and Glenn Yarbrough’s disconcerting vibrato.  But when “The End” flashed across the screen, I ran over to the VHS player and hit rewind.

“Really?  Again?” My dad asked.  I just nodded and pressed play.

In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit.

I spent that entire day watching and rewatching that old VHS tape.  I laughed at the antics of the dwarves, cringed when goblins captured the company, covered my eyes at the sight of giant spiders, gasped in delight when Bilbo climbed an old, dark pine in Mirkwood Forest to reveal a gorgeous, green treetop world of sunshine and blue butterflies.  I answered riddles in the dark, fought in the Battle of Five Armies, and sang along with all of the songs. “I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me!” I shouted, running around the house with a blanket slung over my shoulders like a cape.  I was lost, from that moment onward, to the strange and beautiful world of geekery.

I read The Hobbit in first grade, where I was also introduced to Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and Redwall.  I began to read voraciously, finishing three-hundred page novels in a single night.  I read in the car; I read while walking; I read under the covers when I was supposed to be asleep.  I melted the carpet of my bedroom while trying to read on the floor with a bedside lamp so that my parents wouldn’t catch me (they eventually stopped encouraging me to read and started encouraging me to be a “normal child”).  I taught myself Elvish.  I made friends with other readers, and together we lived in the magical worlds that we loved so well: we defended Redwall Abbey, journeyed through wardrobes, fought off armies of orcs, befriended dragons, rode on the backs of red elk and giant wolves, visited other planets, and cast spells.

I finished reading The Return of the King when I was nine, mere weeks before Peter Jackson’s film version of “The Fellowship of the Ring” was released.  I begged my parents to take me.  I was immediately enthralled- the music, the scenery, the lines taken word-for-word from the books… I hardly even complained that Legolas and Aragorn didn’t look anything like I pictured them (they’re boys, they’re not supposed to have long hair!) and that Tom Bombadil wasn’t in it and what is Arwen doing here, that’s supposed to be Glorfindel!

Now, more than a decade later, a new film version of “The Hobbit” is premiering, and I find myself looking back on the impact Mr. Tolkien and his colleagues have had on my life.  Without the books I’ve read and the films I’ve watched, I would be a completely different person today.  They have instilled in me a deep-rooted sense of idealism, the knowledge that truth and beauty and light and love will always conquer evil, and the desire to do good and do it well.  They have shown me the value of optimism and determination.  How lucky I am to have had role models like Hermione Granger and Lucy Pevensie and Leia Organa and Eowyn, rather than Kim Kardashian and Snooki!  I am a proud product of fantasy and science fiction novels.  Geeky things have changed my life—for the better.  I’m still enchanted by the worlds that I spent my childhood exploring; I fully expect to be in tears through the entire movie tonight.  And I can’t wait to step in the front door one day with a DVD in my hand and say to my future children,

“This is the story that shaped my life.  Watch it.  You’ll love it.”

1 AM Breakdown, 2 AM Clarity

Sometimes, life is hard.
There will always be someone you miss.  And it doesn't matter how far away they are or how long they will be gone; it will always ache.
Happy memories will make you cry.
Sometimes you will be lost at sea, and the days will plow into you like waves, one after another, pummeling you into the sand.  And sometimes there will be no waves at all, and time will pass too slowly, and you will sit staring at the flat horizon all around with no idea which way to go.
The world changes.  So will you.

And it's scary.
But it's the good kind of scary.

So go on as many adventures as you can.
Read books.
Love everyone.  Unconditionally.  Yes, even that person.
Bear in mind that ice cream and music feed the soul.
And always remember that life is beautiful.
Not just in your Instagram pictures.  Not even just in your memory.  Celebrate life as it happens.
Even the hard stuff, because there is peace and joy on the way.  I promise.

The Mirror Up To Nature

"The purpose of playing...both at the first and now, was and is, to hold as 'twere themirror up to nature: to show virtue her feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure." Hamlet, Act III, scene ii

Those of you who recognize the "little candle" quote in the description of this blog may have guessed that I love Billy Shakespeare. (And for those of you who don't recognize it, it's from The Merchant of Venice, which is definitely worth a read.) I'm also an acting major, and while I know quite a few actors who aren't big fans of the Bard, a knowledge of and appreciation for his work kind of comes with the territory. Even if you find Shakespeare tedious or difficult to understand, I'm sure you've come across at least a few short quotes that showcase not only his gorgeous writing, but his unparalleled ability to understand the human condition.

This quote from Hamlet is special to me because it talks about the relationship between life and art. I am very passionate about the purpose that art serves in our world; through art, and, in this quote, specifically through theatre, society's flaws can be presented to an audience so that they can be recognized and hopefully even resolved. I believe in the significance of art and the power of artists. We are here to change the world for the better.

And so... this blog. It's just my own little way to share my thoughts and feelings as I wade into the wide world and try, like the little candle, to share what light I have with those who need it most.