J.D. Salinger

On Wednesday, author J.D. Salinger died at 91 years old.

He left behind a smattering of works, including the famous Catcher in the Rye.

Catcher, a controversial, critically acclaimed, "life changing" story, only reached my skeptical hands a mere month ago.

My father, who reminisced frequently upon his teenhood, did not hesitate in recalling his experiences with book. Catcher was his bible. He carried it around in his back pocket for years, it never left his side. He read from it so often the pages were worn, ripped and torn. That book held meaning in his life when he was young.

I can't say that the book left the same lasting impression upon me. Of course, I'm not a teenage boy, so that could have something to do with it. That's not to say that the book didn't affect me, because it certainly did. Just not in the "OMG my life's about to change forever," kind of way.

Quite frankly, when I read the book, I was slightly disappointed. All this hype surrounding a book which I found to be missing some the most basic elements in writing fiction. This was a story with no plot, no climax, no end. I felt like the whole book was just J.D. Salinger complaining, and when he ran out of things to say, he just...stopped.

That being said, the book does have a certain charm to it. It sneaks into your heart the same way every teenager in your life does. Through wit, humor, and just a tad of smart ass. The sarcasm and negativity of the narrator, Holden Caulfield, somehow manages to do just the opposite of what he intends. Instead of pushing everyone away, it pulls everyone in. The risque content of the piece for its time adds to the overall interest in the book.

But none of this captured my attention while reading Catcher. In fact, it wasn't until the last four pages of the novel that I was interested in the novel at all. I won't give away the ending in case anyone out there hasn't read the book, but I will say that the significance of the golden ring really got to me. It stuck with me, and taught me something.

And for that, J.D. Salinger (or your ghost rather) I'd like to thank you.
Thank you for teaching me to always have that childhood determination never to give up.
I may not keep you in the back pocket of my jeans, or even on my book shelf, but your lesson will always be in my mind, and in my heart.

Peter Pan

They tell me I'm one year older.
I say I'm Peter Pan.
They ask me why I think that.
I say read Catcher In the Rye.
They tell me to stop being so pessimistic.
I say I'm the irrational realist.
They ask me if that's a contradiction.
I say I'm the queen of double standards.
They tell me I'm only human.
I say I wish I were Vulcan.
They ask me what that is.
I say its from Star Trek.
They tell me I'm a dork.
I say thank you, because that means their wrong.
I can't be one year older, if nothings changed.

Time is nothing but a state of mind.

He's gone.

My Hips Were Covered In Water...

Yes, the theater is in my blood.

It was only natural that I would gravitate there eventually. I had revolved around it for many years, placing a toe in the water now and then before quickly stepping back; it was much too cold for me still.

And yet, I kept on returning, the waves hitting me higher and higher up against my body. I knew once they hit my waist I'd be in and there'd be no going back. The water would start to warm, my body becoming accustom to the temperature. The sea air would engulf me, cleanse me. My mind would be clear, my soul would be free. Theater would be my obsession, my control, but it would also be my freedom, my escape.

As much as I knew this, I wondered if I'd ever reach it. For so long it had remained no more than a job, a connection, an opportunity, nothing more.

High school, like a gigantic wave climbing the shore, drowned the sandcastle of uncertainty, pulling it away, scattering the sand back into the vast sea of my life, and leaving no trace of what had been there before.

My hips were covered in water. I was in love.

Before anything else, it was the room itself which I had fallen in love with. And that was a good thing, because I spent more time in there than anywhere else, even my own room.

The room itself had at first appeared to be a vast space of nothingness, a black hole (the room was, indeed, all black in color), a bottomless pit, but the more time I spent in there, the more I realized how much the room actually had to offer. Contrary to my initial belief, it was a cluttered, crowded space (which continuously got smaller), that breathed nothing but life and produced nothing but talent from the people within it.
I loved that room, the community which resided within it, and now, the organization I belonged to. Theater was my life now.

Finally, I had a new sense of determination, a fuller heart of desire. It sounded insane. I had never thought I would say it, I never thought of myself as family business kind of girl. But there I was, wanting to follow in my father's footsteps, my new goal clear as day.

I will become the Production Stage Manager of the school show, and maybe someday, Broadway too.

If my Dad could do it, why couldn't I?