So, like several millions of people around the world, I read the last Harry Potter Book. Don't worry, I won't spoil anything for those who haven't read it, except to say that at the end, Harry clicks his ruby slippers together three times and drops Aslan into the depths of Mount Doom, and manages to help save Princess Buttercup's baby brother from the Goblin King played by David Bowie.
Don't mock the Bowie.
That didn't really happen, but man, how badass would that have been? As if JK Rowling couldn't afford the lawsuits. That broad is swimming in dollars and pounds.
"I fear none but Oprah"
Anyway, if you haven't read it yet, it looks like this:
striking terror in the hearts of trees
If you'd like to go read it now before I continue, I'll wait...
Ok. I heartily recommend everyone on earth read this entire series. I know, I know. I was a detractor at first. When the first three books came out, I figured "How could anything this popular be any good at all?" Well, I quickly became hooked after reading the first two over Thanksgiving break my freshman year of college, and the third in one sitting after I returned to school. Coincidentally, I borrowed that book from my friend Mr. Morchison, the same person from whom I obtained this last one. Funny how things work out that way.
So yes, I'm a fan. Yes, I know an embarrassing amount about the books and movies. Yes, I know to which house in Hogwarts I would belong.
but that's not important right now.
Basically, yes I'm a dork, but we all knew this, and I'm way more invested in other areas of dorkdom.
I say all of this because I'm forced to admit that I was not prepared for the myriad of emotions I went through upon reading this book. Granted, I did finish at approximately 3 AM, so I was capable of becoming emotional over a fraying shoelace. But still, I was shellshocked.
I walked around the apartment. My pulse was elevated, I couldn't seem to form words or even coherent thoughts. Images from the last 6 years of my life flashed through my head in a giant electrical storm, sort of like a seizure that wasn't.
I calmed down enough to have fitful sleep for two hours that night. Plus side: no zombies!
The next morning, I realized the truth. There was no longer anything to look forward to. I knew this time was fast approaching, but I guess I just wasn't prepared for the finality. I found myself going through the stages of grief:
5) Nestle's Toll House Morsels
Thankfully, I managed to get through the first 3 in a rather long shower that probably convinced my neighbors I was either a) possessed or b) going to go blind.
As for the depression, I treated it the way millions of Americans do. I sat around all day watching the Tyra Banks show and Amanda Bynes' old sitcom, What I Like About You.
Of course, that just sank me deeper into the depression.
Don't worry about me, though. The Irish Festival I went to snapped me out of it. Things are good, and there are still two more films coming out.
Plus I have JK Rowling in my basement now. The stories shall continue!