Chipped Polish & Wornout Jeans

“The way I flew? Do you know, Jane, I sometimes wonder whether I ever did really fly” “Yes, you did.” “The dear old days when I could fly!” “Why can’t you fly now, mother?” “Because I am grown up, dearest. When people grow up they forget the way.” “Why do they forget the way?” “Because they are no longer gay and innocent and heartless. It is only the gay and innocent and heartless who can fly.” ~Peter Pan, pg 222

In case you didn’t catch it the title and opening quotes are in reference to Peter Pan and the location of Neverland. It’s sad but Peter Pan made me realize how jaded and cynical I’ve become. We read it for my children’s lit class, Children’s Fantasy Fiction, back in undergrad, and I bawled at the end when Wendy had forgotten how to fly because she grew up. I’ve grown up too… I don’t remember how to fly anymore. And when Peter said he’d teach her how again, but she told him not to waste his fairy dust on her, I almost died. I won’t ever fly again. I’ve grown up and forgotten and can’t be retaught. I’ll never remember; I’ll have but fond memories of the days when I could. I want to fly away to Neverland and fight pirates with Peter… that sounds good right now. I want to remember how to get there and how to fly. Long ago I used to fight pirates with Peter. I used to go to Neverland and play with the Lost Boys. I want to go back there. “Second to the right, and straight on till morning” That’s where I’ll go.

But the point of this entry is that I know that many people have forgotten how to fly. They’ve stopped believing, and that’s very sad. I clapped loudest when I watched the play; I clapped for Tinker Bell, who I believed in with all my heart. But lately I’ve come to realize that my clapping has grown softer, my innocence has faded away. People all around me have stopped clapping; they’ve stopped believing, and that is a tragedy. They’ve forgotten Neverland and Peter, and Neverland is childhood and hope. Whether you believe it or not, J.M. Barrie was right. We all know Neverland and Peter; we all flew away with him and fought pirates and redskins and played with the Lost Boys, and eventually we all flew home and grew up. “On these magical shores children at play are for ever beaching their coracles. We too have been there; we can still hear the sound of the surf, though we shall land no more.” The main problem is that we will never land on the shores of that dreadful paradise again, where adventure would sweep us away, and we would be free and innocent. Neverland is not a safe place all the time, and our companion Peter Pan is careless and cruel at times, but it is a paradise to be certain.

Maybe it is that we grow up too fast now, achieving adulthood and abandoning Neverland before we should. Forgetting our old adventures as we discover the troubles and difficulties of adult responsibilities, which are much more difficult to battle than the pirates of our youth. Once upon a time we fought pirates and redskins, we defeated Captian Hook and watched as he fell to the crocodile. But we don’t remember that; we don’t remember Tiger Lily or the Neverbird. We’ve forgotten. And I cry for us, for our past. I do not wish to be Peter, who is still a little boy, but I do wish I could remember how to fly, just once, and head back to Neverland for another adventure.

Deep within us, there is a sprinkle of fairy dust and a happy thought, and that will let us fly. In the shadows there is a boy in a garment of green playing the pipes or brandishing a dagger. He’s crying as he tries to stick his shadow back on with soap or perhaps he’s crowing with glee and delight. Some night while you are sitting in your room, you’ll hear a crow and the window will blow open and a boy will drop in on the floor. He will be the same as ever, and he will have all his first teeth. Now he might forget you from time to time, but you mustn’t forget him, for he will come back eventually. He is a careless little boy. Peter doesn’t change, we do. But if you listen closely you can hear him whispering to you.

So this is a difficult post, but I promised myself that I would write about everything. So here goes. Sometimes in life we make choices that we think are right but in the end turn out to be wrong. Sometimes what we think is the smart move turns out to be a mistake. I am experiencing that now. I got a letter, in June of last year, telling me that I had been accepted to law school in L-ville; after much deliberation I decided to go, even though it was not where I really wanted to attend. At the time most people were encouraging me, and there was always an opportunity to transfer later. So I packed up my life and made the long drive up north; I left my family, my friends, and Jake. I thought I could do it, that even if the situation was difficult and unpleasant, I could power through three years. I was wrong. It was a mistake. I started feeling out of place almost immediately. The minute I started talking and folks sort of stared because I had a funny accent and used strange colloquialisms. I didn't belong there, but I took a deep breath and held my head high, pretended that I didn't need to feel comfortable. I was wrong. I knew something wasn't right, but I tried desperately to power through it. That was a mistake. Leaving was a mistake. I was so unbelievably wrong. Do I regret it? No. I firmly believe that regret does nothing for you. No regrets, just lessons learned. So what now? I guess this is a year of no school for me, which means hunting a job and paying my loans. Hopefully, things will settle again, and I will figure all this out.

I made a huge mistake, and it had so not so pleasant consequences; it feels like right now God is giving me a reset, taking me back to before this happened. Not a rewind or restart, but a fresh start. I need that. I know, short entry is short, but I don't really feel like writing in length about this subject.

I am sitting here looking around at the boxes that hold my life. That's sounds funny, but its true. Exams are over, and I am packing up the apartment to move back to the Boro for the summer. My lease is up on the eighth, and I'm moving out either Wednesday or Thursday. Mama is drivin' up to help, which is awesome, especially since there is no way that all my junk is going to fit into one Blazer. I was going to move this afternoon, but the flooding happening everywhere makes that impossible. I'm not going to write about packing though. Instead I'm just going to do a stream of thought entry about all the things that have been on my mind, and maybe I'll throw in a brief note on my plans for the summer.

I am not the woman I was several months ago when I came to Louisville, and that is both a good and bad thing. Back in August when I arrived in L-ville I was wide-eyed, ambitious, and excited. Law school was an adventure I'd been looking forward to for a very long time. It became complicated the second day of orientation when I soon discovered that my accent was a great deal stonger than most of the people there, and I was definitely a little fish in a great big pond. I got the feeling I was out of place. And it was a brand new experience. I was two hundred miles away from everything thing I loved and everyone. It was frightening and exhilerating all at once. As an undergraduate I could handle most of my classes in my sleep, and I balanced everything relatively easily. I was a mock trial captain and a college senior facing three years of more work than I could imagine, but I could handle it. Law school isn't easy, not at all; I have to work three times as hard as I used to, and I was on my own. Living on my own is not the difficult part; its the being absolutely alone, isolated from everyone and everything I am close to, that made life unpleasant. Even Jake and I felt the strain, and at that point, our relationship was still going strong. In December, my grades were not great, and, I knew I was here for the next two years. Things weren't weren't smooth anymore. And then I thought they were getting better, and I was wrong. I don't have Jake anymore, and that breaks my heart; I threw myself into working, outlines, case briefs, and learning the law, anything to keep my mind off what I'd lost. It hasn't really worked, and now the semester is over. I am leaving my first year of law school, and I am not really going back to the Boro the same woman. I feel like I've lost some of my strength, some of my spark. I'm all jaded and even more cynical than I was when I came here. I've lost some of my confidence, some of what made me, Nic. This summer I hope I can get some of that back.

This summer I am also going to lose this weight. I looked in the mirror after my shower the other day, and my reflection made me want to cry. I'm fat, and its disgusting. This is not a "I hate the way I look cause I can't wear skinny jeans"; this is a "I've gotten so big that it's unhealthy and disgusting, and I have to do something about it" thing. I'm not saying that the break up caused the weight gain, but I really started to gain all this weight after it happened. I guess its because I had nothing to do but work; its not an excuse at all though. I shouldn't have let this happen to me. I should've kept in shape; I should've taken better care of myself. I was pretty much wallowing, and it does not suit me well. I'm angry at myself, and I'm disappointed in what I have done to myself. I have to fix this; I look terrible and feel just as bad. I can't stand it any more.

The idea for this summer is to catch up on my reading, do some writing, get a job for the summer in the Boro, work on jewelry, and practice with my camera. It's not exactly the summer I was so looking forward to when the semester started, but I will make the best of it.