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Jul. 21st, 2007 05:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolI came home from work at 10.00pm, purchased Chinese takeaway, ate it, showered, and dragged Simon to queue with me outside of the Ormskirk Waterstone's. We stood there for an hour and waited about another hour to get the book.
I came home.
By 2.00am, I had just finished chapter 4 and decided resolutely that the fact I was in work in six hours was quite good motivation for actually getting some damn sleep.
I woke up, quite coincidentally, at about 6.30am and decided that it was a totally spiffing idea to keep on reading.
By the time I got to work, I felt physically sick from how tired I felt and wondered if it was validation to take the day off. However, considering the fill-in chef and several members of staff had pulled the same trick, I felt it would be unfair if I legged it.
I have never been so glad that people tend to ignore me during lunc break, as I wolfed down warmed-up leftover Chinese and read busily through to just over half.
So then, I had a half to read. I'm a quick reader, so I had a shower, got out nice comfy clothes, a box of tissues, cleaned my bedroom - I like reading in a clean room, it is a thing, I can explain it not - and settled down with a mug of tea.
I have now finished. Harry Potter, which was been there since I was twelve, is now completely finished.
I think I'm a bit broken. We can possibly prove this by the fact that I can't stop crying. Oh, god, this is like the Farscape finale and Return of the King all over again.
JK ROWLING CLEARLY HATES ME. This is a statement based on the massive amount of hormones I have surging around my body - PMT is less so on the Pill but still rears up the days I don't take the pills - and the fact that she has ripped into my heartstings, tugged them, and snapped them to teeny tiny pieces.
Here is the thing. My favourite character stopped being Hermione when she - and, admittingly, I - grew breasts and got bored of each other. My favourite characters are Fred, George and Remus Lupin.
GUESS WHO SHE WENT A HITTING WITH HER BIG SCYTHE OF DEATH. So I spent most of it crying my little heart out, because oh, he asked Harry to be godfather and that is totally the connection with the man he loved first, ahem. But oh goodness.
Also Hedwig. Oh, Hedwig.
Okay, Colleen, let's try and be logical about this: I missed Hogwarts. I missed Hogwarts a hell of a lot, and the final sequences, despite TEARING OUT MY SOUL, were wonderful - Neville! Lovely lovely Neville! I did, though, like the depiction of society under Voldemort, and I liked the references to Grindelwald - I'd always wondered.
Dumbledore? I'm still undecided. Erm. Honestly. I am a bit. I know it's all a big metaphor for growing up and that, but, well, oh. I don't know.
As always, though, it's always the little tiny bits that made the difference. I don't know if all the big action sequences worked, nor did the continual romantic angst, but Dobby's death was heart-breaking. Litte things like that. The scenes in the cellar at the Malfoys. Oh! Auntie Muriel! OLD PEOPLE ARE REALLY LIKE THAT. In my head she is a woman from work who, every time she wants something and you don't do it quick enough, she howls "I'M NINETY-EIGHT YEARS OLD!"
Mrs Weasley being badass, the protective mother. Oh, god, Fred. Oh, I'm crying again. THEY ARE FICTIONAL CHARACTERS, YOU ARE BEING STUPID COLLEEN.
I don't know if I'm overly delighted at the little epilogue, either. I'll make my mind up on the re-read, if I can do it without actually breaking out again.
Erm. Oh. I'm a bit stuck for what to do now. I'm no good at reaction posts. Erm, basically - I enjoyed it. I really, really did, and I can't wait to get stuck into a good, thorough re-read, but right now I just need a hug. I'm glad I put on my comfy jumper, and so glad I decided against pulling an all-nighter and suffering through work.
I came home.
By 2.00am, I had just finished chapter 4 and decided resolutely that the fact I was in work in six hours was quite good motivation for actually getting some damn sleep.
I woke up, quite coincidentally, at about 6.30am and decided that it was a totally spiffing idea to keep on reading.
By the time I got to work, I felt physically sick from how tired I felt and wondered if it was validation to take the day off. However, considering the fill-in chef and several members of staff had pulled the same trick, I felt it would be unfair if I legged it.
I have never been so glad that people tend to ignore me during lunc break, as I wolfed down warmed-up leftover Chinese and read busily through to just over half.
So then, I had a half to read. I'm a quick reader, so I had a shower, got out nice comfy clothes, a box of tissues, cleaned my bedroom - I like reading in a clean room, it is a thing, I can explain it not - and settled down with a mug of tea.
I have now finished. Harry Potter, which was been there since I was twelve, is now completely finished.
I think I'm a bit broken. We can possibly prove this by the fact that I can't stop crying. Oh, god, this is like the Farscape finale and Return of the King all over again.
JK ROWLING CLEARLY HATES ME. This is a statement based on the massive amount of hormones I have surging around my body - PMT is less so on the Pill but still rears up the days I don't take the pills - and the fact that she has ripped into my heartstings, tugged them, and snapped them to teeny tiny pieces.
Here is the thing. My favourite character stopped being Hermione when she - and, admittingly, I - grew breasts and got bored of each other. My favourite characters are Fred, George and Remus Lupin.
GUESS WHO SHE WENT A HITTING WITH HER BIG SCYTHE OF DEATH. So I spent most of it crying my little heart out, because oh, he asked Harry to be godfather and that is totally the connection with the man he loved first, ahem. But oh goodness.
Also Hedwig. Oh, Hedwig.
Okay, Colleen, let's try and be logical about this: I missed Hogwarts. I missed Hogwarts a hell of a lot, and the final sequences, despite TEARING OUT MY SOUL, were wonderful - Neville! Lovely lovely Neville! I did, though, like the depiction of society under Voldemort, and I liked the references to Grindelwald - I'd always wondered.
Dumbledore? I'm still undecided. Erm. Honestly. I am a bit. I know it's all a big metaphor for growing up and that, but, well, oh. I don't know.
As always, though, it's always the little tiny bits that made the difference. I don't know if all the big action sequences worked, nor did the continual romantic angst, but Dobby's death was heart-breaking. Litte things like that. The scenes in the cellar at the Malfoys. Oh! Auntie Muriel! OLD PEOPLE ARE REALLY LIKE THAT. In my head she is a woman from work who, every time she wants something and you don't do it quick enough, she howls "I'M NINETY-EIGHT YEARS OLD!"
Mrs Weasley being badass, the protective mother. Oh, god, Fred. Oh, I'm crying again. THEY ARE FICTIONAL CHARACTERS, YOU ARE BEING STUPID COLLEEN.
I don't know if I'm overly delighted at the little epilogue, either. I'll make my mind up on the re-read, if I can do it without actually breaking out again.
Erm. Oh. I'm a bit stuck for what to do now. I'm no good at reaction posts. Erm, basically - I enjoyed it. I really, really did, and I can't wait to get stuck into a good, thorough re-read, but right now I just need a hug. I'm glad I put on my comfy jumper, and so glad I decided against pulling an all-nighter and suffering through work.
