I love Harry Potter
I love how in the blink of an eye his life was transformed (or better yet transfigured), from complete misery to a fantastic adventure. His hopeless situation disappeared over night, opening a shining new door of opportunities. A world of magic and mystery existed, and he was a part of it. I love how Harry always has knew who his true friends are, that they aren’t fake or petty. He would do anything for them (like say…try to smuggle away an illegal dragon?) as they would for him (jump down a random trap door while avoiding a three headed dog). I love that even when evil tried to tempt him, innocence and love prevailed.
I love that Harry stayed true to himself. That even though his entire school hated him, he stayed strong because he knew who he was and had his friends support. I love how even though he has managed to do amazing things, Harry can still be a complete idiot. He tried to logically solve a problem by stealing a car with Ron. Honestly? Not the best idea.
I love how the story is subtly one of discrimination, when people who are “muggle born” are at times openly attacked. A children’s book has managed to point out the ridiculousness of hatred upon a group, based on their heritage.
I love how fear is represented as a living demon, that sucks away all happiness. It bring s a tangibility to everything we dread. However I also love how (for the sake of the story) willing people are to listen to lies, if it is what they want to believe. It amazes me how quickly hatred can form a bond of friendship and vice versa. I love how Lupin’s simples acts of kindness towards Nevil Longbottom do wonders for his self-confidence. How simply believing in a timid kid can help show themselves that they are capable.
I love the idea of other foreign magic schools. How they all come together for s a single vent to friendly compete. I love how this friendly competition leads to cheating because they so desperately want to come out on top. I love how distorted this event becomes. Even though it began as harmless, and not all that influential, it turned into a night of infamy. When evil rises again and traitors hid behind their cowardice. I love how simple, seemingly meaningless actions can have dire consequences.
I love how angsty Harry is in his fifth year. Literally ou can tell that he is in his “ I hate the worl phase” because that is how the entire narration of the book goes. I love how despite all of the hate pour around him, people calling him a liar, friends turning against friends, he stays strong. He has courage enough to tell his side of the story and know that people still wont believe him. I love how his destiny is slowly but steadly becoming more clear.
I love how a simple sentence form an old man can change the entire course of Harry’s life. Even through he has been through so much the greatest part of his adventure is still ahead. I love how his courage never wavers and never hesitates to speak his mind. If he sees something he views as wrong he points it out and searches for a way to fix it. I love how even though he is afraid of the people he loves being hurt, his best friends refuse to leave his side.
I I love how no matter what, good conquers evil.
I love how even though I’m a complete dork and just wrote a paragraph for every book, I posted this anyway.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Friday, April 2, 2010
Being a Bystander *please grade :]*
The first thing that comes to my mind that I am probably a perpetrator, target, and a bystander of is gossiping. I hate it. A lot. And yet, I’ll admit, there are times when I catch myself trashing somebody that I don’t even know.
I’ve never really been the kind of person to jump up and down with sparklers in my hand saying “Look at me! Look at me!” So in the vast majority of these situations I end up as the bystander. I wish I could honestly say otherwise, but there you go.
A couple years ago I went to my little brother’s sports game. He was new to the team so I thought I would go and support him. There wasn’t really anything major going on; I was sitting in a fold up chair with one head phone in my ear watching a bunch of kids play their game. All this seems normal, how it should be right? Right.
It wasn’t the players, or the coaches, or the referees that freaked me out. It was all those kid’s parents. There were mothers, on the side lines trash talking the kids on the field. Debating their skill, how they acted in practice, even something as petty has how their uniform seemed to fit. When my brother was put in as goalie the woman standing right next to me groaned and said “No! That kid sucks!” Going on to express her complete opinion about him joining the team and what it would mean for her son as well as his friends. None of it seemed all that positive. Mind you, these kids are 8 or 9.
How the hell do you respond to that?? Should I have said something and made a big scene, stood up for him? Looking back, yeah probably. And if that had happened today I probably would have. But being not that much older myself (10 or 11) I just stared at this women who seemed to be so absorbed in a children’s game that she was willing to diss the new kid. I mean, c’mon. Who gets THAT into a game where the kids aren’t even in middle school yet? She was obviously insecure about herself, her own kid, or whatever. Maybe I’m totally off and she’s just a loser.
Isn’t it strange how certain memories stay with us? This is one that I’ve remembered for a while and it’s always really bothered me. By being a bystander I changed nothing. I effected nothing. Being a bystander is the equivalent of doing nothing. I failed to protect my family, even if it was just words. In that moment I didn’t say anything because I was afraid that the mom would yell at me for being disrespect full, or being rude. Even if that would make her the biggest hypocrite on Earth, my little 10 year old self would have seen it as super embarrassing and probably would have made me want to cry. Fear is what kept me as a bystander, and in certain ways I still struggle with that today. I feel uncomfortable calling out wrongs in the world. Not wrongs by strangers, that’s easy. But wrongs committed against me or my friends.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that this situation pointed out my fear. I could have said the entire fifth paragraph of this blog to that woman’s face and been in the right. But because I was scared stayed a bystander.
I’ve never really been the kind of person to jump up and down with sparklers in my hand saying “Look at me! Look at me!” So in the vast majority of these situations I end up as the bystander. I wish I could honestly say otherwise, but there you go.
A couple years ago I went to my little brother’s sports game. He was new to the team so I thought I would go and support him. There wasn’t really anything major going on; I was sitting in a fold up chair with one head phone in my ear watching a bunch of kids play their game. All this seems normal, how it should be right? Right.
It wasn’t the players, or the coaches, or the referees that freaked me out. It was all those kid’s parents. There were mothers, on the side lines trash talking the kids on the field. Debating their skill, how they acted in practice, even something as petty has how their uniform seemed to fit. When my brother was put in as goalie the woman standing right next to me groaned and said “No! That kid sucks!” Going on to express her complete opinion about him joining the team and what it would mean for her son as well as his friends. None of it seemed all that positive. Mind you, these kids are 8 or 9.
How the hell do you respond to that?? Should I have said something and made a big scene, stood up for him? Looking back, yeah probably. And if that had happened today I probably would have. But being not that much older myself (10 or 11) I just stared at this women who seemed to be so absorbed in a children’s game that she was willing to diss the new kid. I mean, c’mon. Who gets THAT into a game where the kids aren’t even in middle school yet? She was obviously insecure about herself, her own kid, or whatever. Maybe I’m totally off and she’s just a loser.
Isn’t it strange how certain memories stay with us? This is one that I’ve remembered for a while and it’s always really bothered me. By being a bystander I changed nothing. I effected nothing. Being a bystander is the equivalent of doing nothing. I failed to protect my family, even if it was just words. In that moment I didn’t say anything because I was afraid that the mom would yell at me for being disrespect full, or being rude. Even if that would make her the biggest hypocrite on Earth, my little 10 year old self would have seen it as super embarrassing and probably would have made me want to cry. Fear is what kept me as a bystander, and in certain ways I still struggle with that today. I feel uncomfortable calling out wrongs in the world. Not wrongs by strangers, that’s easy. But wrongs committed against me or my friends.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that this situation pointed out my fear. I could have said the entire fifth paragraph of this blog to that woman’s face and been in the right. But because I was scared stayed a bystander.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)