When Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix was released, the same weekend I graduated from high school, I waited in line at midnight. And waited again, two years later, for Half-Blood Prince. But after the midnight release of Deathly Hallows, just prior to my final year of college, I started to close the Harry Potter chapter of my life. So when Scholastic released the script to the ‘8th Harry Potter story,’ nine years later, I didn’t rush to Amazon or my local book store. I waited. I forgot. I didn’t know if I wanted to read it at all. And then eventually, because friends wanted to talk about it, I cracked the spine on Harry Potter and the Cursed Child.
Since it all began in June of 2008, this blog has been many things: a place to vent, an archive for commentary on television and comic books, the occasional crafting tutorial, advertisement for my various entrepreneurial enterprises, and a chronicle of my ongoing war with the responsibilities of adulthood.
They call my generation ‘Boomerang Kids’ – Millennials who left the nest for college, then turned right around and moved back in with Mom and Dad post-grad because the wider world is terrible, and depressing, and an empty nightmare of struggles to find affordable healthcare.
I’m thirty years old, and there’s almost nothing adult about me.
I don’t have a twin sister, my father isn’t manic-depressive, and my mother didn’t leave me when I was eight, but the main character in Rainbow Rowell’s FANGIRL was so familiar that after reading late into the night, I reached for my Kindle as soon as I woke up in the morning to finish reliving my first year of college through Cath Avery.
The ‘Little Convention That Could’ gets the best buzz as women and girls are given a safe space to share old passions and discover new ones.
The Huffington Post is running a really fantastic series of articles this week on asexuality, and the thought-out, respectful, and in-depth reporting is a welcome surprise. Reading some of the articles, particularly the ones on relationships and ‘corrective rape,’ made my breath catch in my throat.
It’s been too long since I’ve blogged, and while I hope to have a new episode of YA Rewind up by tomorrow, it’s already been delayed a week, so I feel like I need to apologize, which is kind of silly, especially since I have no idea how many people even listen to my little podcast. The only person I’m responsible to these days is myself, but the lack of new Hollywood Jane content is starting to weigh on me like a tell-tale heart. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.