Harry Potter: The Musical

In the summer of 2001 the world was a different place. America had not yet declared war on Iraq and terrorism, Dido, Shaggy, and Destiny's Child were collectively dominating the top 40, Warner Brothers Studios were in mid-production of the first Harry Potter film, I was 9 while my sister Sharah was 14, and together we were writing the beautiful, unpublished project entitled Harry Potter: The Musical.

Sharah and I kept our writings on lined paper in a two-ring binder. We used pre-existing songs from either Disney or our family's collection of hits from the '60s, in order to supplement pre-existing or plausible situations from the Harry Potter universe. It really was a work of genius. I do not still have the authentic papers, but I have the memories, and can only pray that the originals are protected somewhere in our parents' basement.

All these recreations have been done to the best of my ability and memory, and all ideas are the brain-rights of Melece & Sharah Meservy. A team so official I had to use an ampersand rather than the word 'and'.

Scene: The great hall. Ron and Harry are enthralled by the enchanted ceiling, floating candles, and hundreds of students. 

Harry: This, this is just, incredible.

Ron: I've never seen anything like it. It's like...

The two make eye contact before both breaking into song. 

H&R: A whole new world! A dazzling place I never knew! No one to tell us no,

Hermione clears her throat behind them.

H&R: Or where to go

Hermione clears her throat slightly louder behind them.

H&R: or say we're only dreaming.

Professor Mcgonagall appears suddenly to squash any dreams the boys may or may not have been having.

End Scene 

Scene: The dungeons. Dark and dusty. Severus Snape is stood at the front of a class of nervous looking first years, H,R&H among them. A fire is lit under a large cauldron which is bubbling ominously. Snape adds ingredients to the cauldron while mixing. 

Severus Snape: Fluxweed... knotgrass... lacewing flies, and skin of Boomslang are only the ingredients we need to complete this particular potion. Alone they are nothing to complete that which is needed in the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. To bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses we need... the magic words. 

Fog issues from beneath all the students' seats as music number appropriate lights flash. 

SS: Salagadoola mechicka boola bibbidi-bobbidi-boo
Put 'em together and what have you got
bibbidi-bobbidi-boo

Snape sashays around the dungeon, robes swirling. 

SS: Salagadoola mechicka boola bibbidi-bobbidi-boo
It'll do magic believe it or not
bibbidi-bobbidi-boo
Salagadoola means mechicka booleroo
But the thingmabob that does the job is
bibbidi-bobbidi-boo
Salagadoola menchicka boola bibbidi-bobbidi-boo
Put 'em together and what have you got
bibbidi-bobbidi bibbidi-bobbidi bibbidi-bobbidi-boo

End scene. 

Scene: Ginny Weasley lays across her bed on her stomach, fondling a photograph of Harry while addressing Errol who sits crumpled on her pillow. 

Ginny: He's just so wonderful. I wish he loved me back, but he doesn't even know I exist. I would do anything to get him to notice me, (sings) but mama says,

In bursts Molly Weasley accompanied by bedazzled back-up dancers with beehive hair styles. 

Molly: You can't hurry love
No, you just have to wait
She said love don't come easy
It's a game of give and take

You can't hurry love
No, you just have to wait
You got to trust, give it time
No matter how long it takes

G: Muuuuuuum. Not agaiiiin.

End Scene. 

Scene: Harry and Dumbledore sit on a table in the empty classroom holding the Mirror of Erised. 

Dumbledore: The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed.

Harry: Professor Dumbledore. Can I ask you something?

D: Obviously, you've just done so. You may ask me one more thing, however.

H: What do you see when you look in the mirror?

D: I? I see myself almost exactly as I am, you see,

Dumbledore stands and begins to tap dance across floor. 

D: I got rhythm
I got music
I got my man
Who could ask for anything more?
I got daisies
In green pastures,
I got my man
Who could ask for anything more?

End Scene. 

These are the only scenes I can remember in detail. I faintly recall "How Much is that Broomstick in the Window" and a song featuring Moaning Myrtle. But, you'll have to ask my sister. 

In the biblical sense

As a member of a scripture centered church, (well, Christ centered, but then also scripture... You underment what I stood), any sort of "Getting to Know You" survey that is sent around for whatever purpose in said church, almost always includes a blank space under the title "Favourite Scripture," for you to share.

Recently my best friend Allison and I were texting about just such a phenomenon and how little a scripture actually says about the person filling out the survey. Do the people reading the surveys look up the references? If/when they do do they then analyze the chosen scripture?

"Ah, yes, *this* person values Jesus the right amount," - all knowing survey distributor.

Or maybe, perhaps, there are well tested and developed algorithms in place to match a personality profile with the selection or preference of certain words or principals.

"Aha! This scripture says "thou" three times! We have found the perfect nursery leader!" - church leaders everywhere probably.

Usually, I assume, these references are accepted but ignored, maybe jotted down somewhere to look at during future times of trial. Rarely are they put to any sort of getting-to-know you use.

In discussing this, Allison and I decided to find the best possible verses to put as a favourite scriptures, to really help people get to know us. I hope they are inspiring and informative.
Because I assume all of you are as lazy as I am, I have written out all the verses. You are welcome.

Exodus 8:14
"And they gathered them together upon heaps: and the land stank."

Leviticus 11:30
"And the ferret, and the chameleon, and the lizard, and the snail, and the mole."

Leviticus 15:19
"And if a woman have an issue, and her issue in her flesh be blood, she shall be put apart seven days: and whosoever toucheth her shall be unclean until the even."

Leviticus 15:29
"And on the eighth day she shall take unto her two turtles, or two young pigeons, and bring them unto the priest, to the door of the tabernacle of the congregation."

Numbers 31:17
"Now therefore kill every male among the little ones, and kill every woman that hath known man by lying with him."

Lamentations 4:3
"Even the sea monsters draw out the breast, they give suck to their young ones: the daughter of my people is become cruel, like the ostriches in the wilderness."

As Christmas is fast approaching, as is the celebration of my birth, if anyone feels the urge to send me a gift, any of these scriptures cross-stitched onto a pillow, carved into a little block, or made into wall decals will be gladly accepted and presented proudly in our home.

#soblessed. 

Ways my imaginary friend bullies me and ruins my life.

I have an imaginary friend known as Anxiety. Really, he is only imaginary in the fact that he has no body or physical presence, but he is pretty real in the incredible way he holds power in my life.
Every day Anxiety floats along besides me being the biggest and loudest dingleberry I have ever encountered. There are many instances in which Anxiety has made my life embarrassingly painful, but today I will outline just the one (with many sub-sections).

Graduate School Applications vs. Anxiety

Peter: Melly, we need to apply to graduate school.

Me: Yes. Yes we do.

Peter: You need to contact professors to write you letters of recommendation.

Me: Yes. Yes I do.

Peter: Will you do that please?

Me: Yes. Yes I will.

Anxiety: LOL JK WHO WILL YOU ASK? If you write someone, they will say no, and every time you see them ever you will need to physically hide under a table, because if you don't, and they see you, they will hate you and you will literally pee your pants.

Me: I will not literally pee my pants.

Anxiety: You might! When was the last time you peed your pants?!

Me: Not since I was, like, eight years old!

Anxiety: BZZZZ nope, that was the liar buzzer. You peed your pants earlier this year when you had a UTI because you hate peeing and hold it until you have the pee shivers. Fail! If you can't remember the last time you peed your pants, you probably can't get into graduate school.

Me: I can get into graduate school.

Anxiety: Okay, sure. Good luck with that.

Me: I think you should shut your face. You're not even real.

Peter: Please stop talking to your Anxiety, Melly

Anxiety: Shut up, Peter. You don't even know Melece. I know all of her pee secrets. What do you know? THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT.

Later, I discussed my worries with my therapist. He told me we would conquer it together, and he would help me step by step through my applications, something that gave me incredible deja vu seeing as my therapist in high school had to help me through my university applications.

Dr: So, what will you have done by the next time we meet?

Me: I will have written to professors requesting letters of recommendation.

Dr: Excellent.

Anxiety: Well, that's too bad that you'll NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN.

Me: I'll see him next week.

Anxiety: Except not, because you cannot see him until you ask for letters of recommendation, but, unless you want to start wearing adult diapers, that's not going to happen.

Me: I'll do it, I will!


And that's the true story of how I stopped seeing my therapist.

I'm sorry, but Kanye give it a rest?

At the 2009 VMAs a new pop cultural moment took place. Kanye West famously interrupted Taylor Swift during her acceptance of Best Female Video of 2009, and thus was born the social phenomenon "Imma Let You Finish" (or Kanyeing).

An Urban Dictionary entry of the custom explains it as such,

"What you say too look polite when you interrupt someone, put them down, and are not going to really let them finish.
Kanye West: Now Taylor, Im really happy for you, and imma let you finish, but Beyonce had one of the best videos of all time. One of the best videos of all time! (shrugs and walks away.)"

Obviously, this isn't a good thing to do, but there are certain times in my life where I find myself faced with the incredible urge to Kanye, and usually I do so, quietly to myself, in my head, or in a message to a friend so they can appreciate how important I am. I'm sure the suggestion that I do this at all has now revealed myself as a hideous person to all of you, but in an attempt to deter myself, I imagine gaining a characteristic of a (metaphorical) douche bag each time I choose to Kanye. So... that's something, right?

Times when it feels acceptable to Kanye

1. When someone tells me that their husband is the greatest. 

Me: Now, I'm really happy for you, and imma let you finish, but PETER IS THE GREATEST SPOUSE OF ALL TIME. Peace out -dons sunglasses even though it's night- 

2. When someone posts about selling Itworks, Mary Kay, Doterra oils on Facebook. 

Me: I'm really happy for you, and imma let you finish, but lemme just unfriend you real quick, cuz PUPPY POSTS ARE THE BEST FACEBOOK POSTS OF ALL TIME. *grillz magically appear on my teeth*

3. If I am told a certain new offspring is so talented and magical. 

Me: I'm really happy for you, and imma let you finish, but Jesus was the best baby of ALL TIME! (Polo collar pops) 

4. Any suggestion that a fiction book series is more worthwhile than Harry Potter.

Me: Yo, I'm so happy for you, and your limited IQ, but that boy wizard defeated the most powerful evil sorcerer of ALL TIME. -showers using only cologne-

It's hard to fight these things, but I try.

To make me feel like a better person, please comment with instances in which you think it's appropriate to Kanye. 

How my anxiety found me a perfect husband

When I was a 4 year old, someone told me that you needed to get married to get into heaven. This did not sit well with me, even though I was still 14 years away from being a legal adult. I faced, what I think in retrospect, was my first large bout of anxiety. My therapist tells me that the basis of anxiety is fixating on something that is beyond what we need to currently be concerning ourselves with. The fact that 4 year old me spent hours crying about the prospect of marrying and being a mommy sounds like a textbook case for such a thing.

My mom would hold me as a cried and promise me that I didn't have to get married and I didn't have to be a mom. Instead, I could stay at home forever, and be her little girl.

This apprehension towards marriage is something that stuck with me my entire life. While others around me seemed eager to bind themselves to someone else for the rest of forever, I couldn't think of anything except how utterly terrible that would be.
This meant that when Peter came into my life and I started to love him, I felt incredibly repulsed by myself and the thoughts that I began to have that indicated that marriage could be anything besides a horrendous mess. I was certain that he would leave to go on a mission, and I would recover from my temporary insanity and move on with my life.

Unfortunately, I found this was a more difficult thing to happen than I expected. One night I called my mother distraught over my situation, hoping for some solace. I tried to express to her how badly I was transitioning to Peter being gone. Before I could get very far in my explaining, Mommifer asked excitedly,

"Oh, are you still in love with Peter??"
"What? No..." I said, before quickly bursting into hot and hysterical tears.
"Oh, Melece, I know you're so sad right now, but I could just turn cartwheels! I worried and worried that I would have to watch my youngest daughter live without love!"

And thus my mother became Peter's #1 wingman.

Even though I was coming to accept the fact that I loved Peter, I could never go for very long without thinking about all the terrible aspects of marriage. In fact I would only have small lapses of reason in which I thought marriage could be sufferable, these moments overrode by a massive fear and distaste by the institution.

Fears I had towards marriage:

1. I would get sick of my husband.

This was a serious fear founded in the reality of my past experiences. I had never had a close friend who I spent time with on a regular basis for much longer than a year span or so. There were several people in my life who had always been present in the background, and who I had known for many years, but any close knit relationships I had sought in the past, both romantic and otherwise, usually burned bright and passionately for a season and then ended in awkward avoidances and "we should definitely hang out"s, which as everyone knows is almost legally a phrase that translates to, "I recognize that we at one point knew each other, and I want to be polite, but I have no intentions of ever spending time alone with you ever." The polite response being "yes, we really should," which in itself means, "I am glad you also acknowledge that we will never interact by choice ever again."

2. My husband would get sick of me.

These two items seem simplistic and repetitive, but they fully encompass a world of marital problems. I saw spouses bringing lunches for each other at work, and in my head I thought, "UGH, it's like you're legally obligated to feed someone other than yourself!" a problem that fits nicely under list item #1. Other times I would consider, "men only want you for your body," which caters to the second category, under the assumption that I will someday grow wrinkled, lined, and flabby, preferably not by next week.

All the ugly things that I knew could come from close companionship alarmed me; I worried that when Peter came home we would quickly find that a love letter affair is much easier to uphold than a close up and personal one. Thus, we had a long engagement. In that time we fought some of our biggest fights, which led us both to realize that we can handle the biggest of the fights.

There is a phrase I once heard that warns "you need to love a person at their ugliest before you can truly love them at their most perfect." I knew I was ready to become a wife when marriage no longer seemed heinous. I found someone who was able to be my exception to my rules, not someone I was willing to bend my rules for.

Someday (probably next week) I'll write you a post telling stories exclusively about how my mother helped me realize that I could (and should) marry Peter. She had so many wise words to comfort me during that odd 2-3 year courtship/friendship, and she loved Peter deeply before they even met. She once told friends that she didn't worry about me marrying someone who was a stranger to her, because, "Peter makes Melece happy, so I know he is worth while."

Emojis, Peter, and me.

Today in church Peter started a conversation with me on my phone. Each new line represents us passing the phone.

Enjoy.

I was a normal child.

Marriage brings out a lot of secrets. You've bound your life to someone else's and, in spending so much time with this new human instalment, a lot of conversations happen.

If you're like me and you marry someone who you met as an adult, there is all of childhood and adolescence to discover and share. To me, this is a beneficial thing; although I share embarrassing facts of my past with him, Peter was never truly privy to personal crises I experienced as a youth.

For example, Peter did not witness the unfortunate year of my life which I spent as a Twihard (2007-2008, it was a dark time. I had just left my home town in England AND the Harry Potter series had ended. I think you can forgive me). Even though he now knows this terrible, dark secret, he can make fun of me based only on what I have told him, and thus what I myself am able to mock. I can confess that I printed off those really terrible Myspace style quotes all about Twilight, that I was involved in online groups where we tried to cast the Twilight movie (this was before such a thing existed), that I had not one, but two different Twilight hoodies that I wore regularly.

However,  if he was there witnessing it all, I don't know if our relationship would be able to exist.
Let's take a gander at the us in the parallel universe where Peter and I were friends as teens:

Peter: Heh heh heh heh. Remember when you used to compare everything in your life back to Twilight?

Melece: it was not that bad. I mean, yeah, I thought Edward was perfect, but-

P: I tried to ask you out, but you told me 'Real men SPARKLE,' and threw body glitter at me.

M:Yeah... that was... I thought I was funny. It was just a book.

P: No, I'm pretty sure you said that you would knew when you found "The One" when you woke up to find him standing watching you sleep.

M: I would never! I mean, well, maybe? I think I also experimented with hard drugs that year.

P: Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.

Thankfully, none of these things ever happened, and, thanks to extensive Facebook stalking on my part while Peter was in Japan, I know that he once harboured a crush on one of the Twilight characters, SO WE ALL HAVE FLAWS.

Still, thanks to my terrible habit of overindulging, Peter is often loaded with a plethora of blackmail worthy confessions from childhood.
One afternoon Peter was able to join me at my second job as a nanny to a 2 year old boy. The three of us were playing with Play-doh. As I loaded the classic Play-doh contraption where you push a lever and different shaped tubes of Doh comes out. This thing:

I think once you buy one jar of Play-doh, this materializes in one of your cupboards. 

The magical contraption loaded with fresh Doh, I pushed down on the handle and gleefully watched a star shaped strand emerge out of the bottom.

"You know," I tell Peter, "When I was little, I wished I had a giant version of the shape slide thing. You know this part?" I wave it at him, "That you put at the end." Peter looks at me inquisitively, but innocently, listening to my anecdote. I continue, "I wanted one I could attach to my bottom so that my poo would come out shaped." 

"What?" Peter chuckles almost breathlessly, like I have sat suddenly on his chest, "I don't- I, wow." He rubs both hands over his face.

"Oh," I say, now a little unsure of myself and this new confession which I had not thought would be two-handed-face-rubbing worthy, "Did you... not... ever want that?" 

"That is both the most amazing and disgusting thing I ever head in my life, Melly. I just, don't even know what emotion I should be feeling right now. Why did you want shaped poop?"   

"It seemed a worthwhile investment to me." 

"Wow." 

For the rest of the time that we spent with the Doh, Peter would exclaim, "shaped poop!" to himself, as though he just had never heard of anything that revolutionary or strange in his whole life. 

I'm still waiting for his childhood revelation that will make me guffaw. Mostly, I'm just in awe of how cool he was. Did you know that my husband once made a suit, tie, and vest combo out of duct tape? I married so out of my childhood league it is inspiring.