Individualistic

It's amazing how words we read, a sight that we come across, or something we listen to can evoke many different emotions, all remarkably different to each person. 

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In the evolution of my reading preferences, I have gone from Junie B. Jones, to Nancy Drew, to Jane Austen, to Anne Lamott and Charlotte Brontë. (I will always have a place in my heart for little Junie B. That crazy kid.) Looking back at these authors, I realize I was kind of an odd kid since I chose to read Pride and Prejudice for fun when I was 12. Half the time, I didn't know what was going on due to the British lingo, but I enjoyed it and finished it nonetheless. I guess I wanted to know why it is said to be a classic. 

My taste in music has also evolved: Obviously I listened to Hannah Montana, JoBros, Aly & AJ, and I just listened to whatever was on the radio. Now that I am in my 20s, I have a very eclectic taste in music (pop/instrumental/electronic/indie/singer-songwriter). Do I listen to the occasional JoBros? Yes. That is called nostalgia, people, and that is totally normal. 

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This past year at college, I wrote down my favorite quotes from books, interviews, song lyrics, poem stanzas, etc. on index cards and taped them up around my desk in my dorm room. I taped said index cards as well as pictures of family and friends in hopes of making it feel more homey. It did its job, and it made my dorm room feel more like my bedroom back home rather than a place that I just inhabit.

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I have realized that some statements mean something more to us than others. For instance, there are many times that I get excited about something that I am reading, and I recite back to my friends. More often than not, the other person doesn't like or appreciate the quote the way I do. This forces me to tell myself: Hey, you have eccentric taste, my friend. 

This amazes me about books, poems, essays, songs, and other works of art: there will always be a different interpretation for the audience member. In my high school English classes, I LOVED the questions on exams and homework assignments that gave a quote or an instance that happened in a book we were reading, and it asked you to explain what you thought it meant. I always got these questions correct, because as long as you defended your thought process, there was no wrong answer. That's what I love about art: there are no wrong answers. 

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Words, lyrics, paintings, etc. all have the power to move people. An author's words have the power to make their readers not feel so alone in the world, even alone in what they're going through. The reader and the author are able to have this connection, simply from having their words read.

This sums up why I am a writer. I know how much other peoples' words have changed me, and I want to do so for others as well. 

Reagan Fleming

Hemingway's Humble Abode

Last week, my family and I went to Chicago, IL. More specifically, we were in Oak Park, IL, which just so happens to be Ernest Hemingway's birthplace. This trip reminded me of one that I took almost 3 years ago, on my 18th birthday: I visited my sister in Chicago where she was co-oping at the time for school, and we shopped all around the city, drank many many cups of coffee, and visited Hemingway's birth home and museum. 

You're probably thinking, "When I turned 18, I went out to get some cigarettes and lottery tickets. My 18th birthday was crazy!" Well, in my mind, I did have a crazy 18th birthday, but I was nowhere near cigarettes or lottery tickets. Instead, I went on a tour inside the late Hemingway's home, and visited the Hemingway Museum.

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Ernest Hemingway's birth home.

Home part 2.

Hemingway's study.

Study part 2. 

Let's just take a moment and enjoy the fact that Hemingway loved owls... Probably as much as I do.

Study part 3. 

The entrance to the Hemingway Museum.

A typewriter on display in the museum.

Hemingway's typewriter was sold in an auction, so I'm not sure if this was his or simply a duplicate. 

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Much to my surprise, the tour was held in his birth home, not at the museum. Obviously, we went on said tour AND wandered around the museum, and I got to learn a lot more about him. One fact that stood out to me, was that Hemingway's mother used to dress him and his sister up as girls when they were younger, because she wanted another daughter so badly. 

In the museum, we simply walked around and examined various posters, artifacts, pictures, and typewriters like the one above. 

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Oak Park, IL is a place where interesting and beautiful homes are the norm - everywhere I looked, I thought: "This is where a writer would live." But once I laid eyes on and stepped foot inside Ernest Hemingway's home, it sunk in that this literally was a writer's home. And not just any writer; Ernest Hemingway, the brilliant yet troubled author who wrote with such frankness. 

I'm really grateful that I was able to visit these places, to learn more about such a talented writer. I really hope that I get to go back soon and take some more pictures with my new phone that has a better camera than my trusty old iPhone 4. But until then, these pictures will be here to remind me of what a wonderful 18th birthday I had.

Reagan Fleming

Good Grief

Society teaches us that having feelings and crying is bad and wrong. Well, that's baloney, because grief isn't wrong. There's such a thing as good grief. Just ask Charlie Brown. - Michael Scott

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Now, if you haven't learned something from the 9 seasons of The Office, then I don't know what you're doing with your life. This show is a gold mine (or as I once said while sleep-deprived: a land mine) of important quotes to remember throughout your life.

Just kidding, it's just a really funny show. However, part of the second sentence in the quote is right on the money: "...grief isn't wrong." Grief is not a bad thing to experience, which is a fact that I have had a very hard time wrapping my head around. It's not (despite how you may be feeling) a warning sign that your life is going down the toilet. Say it with me: grief. is. normal. But hey, not everyone hits the "five stages of grief" at the same time. I sure as heck did not. 

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You can't map grief because it's not static, it's a moving target that doesn't ever fully end. - Kayla Jacobs

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My sister brought this quote to my attention a couple of days ago, and it was one that really resonated with me. She texted it to me after I informed her that both of my dogs had to be put down. Let me just tell you something, readers: these dogs were adorable. They were small, white, fluffy Maltese, each with their own personalities. Here is proof: 

                                                                                                   Armani (left) & Ivory (right). 

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What made things way worse, was that I had these dogs when my dad was still alive. Again, Michael Scott stole the words right out of my mouth: "It feels like somebody took my heart and dropped it into a bucket of boiling tears." I feel ya, man. 

My dad died 8 years ago, and I can honestly say that I was in shock for an entire year after his death. I missed him, obviously (still do), but at the wonderfully awkward age of 12, I didn't properly grieve. It hasn't been until recently that I've been able to do so. (Hence the reason why I said that grief doesn't have a set timeline).

I am a writing major and I obviously have taken and am currently taking many writing/English classes. One class in particular that I was so excited to take in my sophomore year of college, was Introduction to Writing. In that class, near the end of the semester, I wrote a detached autobiography (only 3 or so pages) titled, "Daddy Daughter Dates." I was and still am extremely proud of this essay. It acted as a therapy session for me; I took some much-needed time to remember how I was feeling at the time of the funeral, which in turn helped me sort out my emotions currently. 

I decided to post this essay on The Odyssey Online. For those of you who don't know, I am a weekly Odyssey Online writer. Click here for the link to my site. This week, I chose to post something a little more serious and heartfelt to balance out the posts filled with funny gifs. Click here to read it.

Note #1: The cover photo is of me and my dad, and we are totally rocking the 'cheesy sunglasses' look. 

Note #2: Despite being a very smiley person now, I never smiled as a child. When you click the link, you'll see for yourself. 

Reagan Fleming