I Hope It's Beautiful Over There

At least, it better still be January 10th when I post this. Maybe I'll keep this short instead.

To anyone who hasn't read a book by John Green, today is just a normal day. Maybe they're experiencing their own problems, so maybe it isn't a normal day. But if they haven't been introduced to John Green and his novels, then January 10th isn't laden with the same kind of significance.

For me, or the me that read Looking for Alaska in 2009 (wow, that seems so long ago now!), I was pretty sure this day wouldn't be the same. It took me a long time to find Alaska (the novel), but the instant I read the last word of that first part of that novel, I knew that date would be forever burned into my memory. Alaska truly affected me, and I've never been able to express, exactly, why. Maybe it's the power that I find in John's writing; maybe it's the content; maybe it was the time at which I found the book, and the community the book opened up to me. Alaska's story was something I could really relate to, and the fact that she was never seen as she should have been - just as herself, rather than as this perfect person through Pudge's eyes, or as an imperfect person, through her own eyes. I think it also affected me because we never, ever got her whole story, not from herself. I still think, in a way, she didn't know her whole story. Every time I read the book (which I unfortunately wasn't able to do this year, since my copy is in storage, the library here is not great,  and I didn't have the money to buy another copy just to have another copy), I see something else in Alaska, and in those who are telling her story and surround her. Because of all this, it's probably pretty evident that I have a deep connection to this novel. Because I want everyone ever to read this book, I won't lay out word for word why January 10th is an important date for anyone who's read this story, and been affected by it enough to remember what happened and what it meant.

Perhaps this was also the fates conspiring, but I finished reading a biography of Grace Kelly today. I found a lot of correlations; today, I was just finishing up, and had therefore reached the point in her life (as told by the author, also a friend of hers) where Judith Quiney was relating how she had been affected by Grace's accident, and also what had happened. (I had known, for instance, that she had died in a car accident, but I hadn't been entirely aware that she had suffered a stroke at the wheel.) But in the same way that Alaska is almost held up as a perfect person to Pudge, Grace was held up to the world as a perfect princess. And neither woman was truly perfect, and neither felt as though they were supposed to be where they were. (That's how I feel, anyway.) From reading this biography, and maybe I just made the connections because Alaska was on the brain, but I really connected the two women. Grace was forced - by herself, rather than entirely by public opinion, despite what people have said about any inner struggles she had - to hold everything in; to be, always in the presence of anyone, even close friends, Princess Grace. She was compassionate and loving, but she was that all the time. In the same way, Alaska, though being herself, held herself to a much higher standard than would have been healthy. (I'm not sure that's the correct word, but nothing else is coming to mind at the moment.) Pudge didn't help by holding her to be such a perfect idea, and the public, as well as Grace's intimates, didn't help her by holding her to the same ideal of perfection. It really struck a chord today, and how hard Alaska's story truly is. We still don't know the truth, and though we know more of the truth about Grace's accident (with the stroke, and the fact that Stephanie was in the car), we still won't truly know what was in either of their heads. (Not that they're the same, but there's a connection there, at least to me right now.) Alaska was in that labyrinth, and maybe she found the only way out, or maybe she's still waiting.

The only thing about it being January is there are no flowers. I haven't seen any white flowers today (besides in Rosianna's brilliant tribute she posted today), but it's not necessary. Alaska's always on my mind, whether at the fore or not.

This is also the anniversary of the publishing of John's other book that affected me greatly. The Fault In Our Stars was very affecting. (All of John's books have been affecting and brilliant but these two are the ones that really did it.)

This is to commemorate Alaska, and also to thank John for bringing me this to think upon, remember, and thrill to. So many emotions run through me in regards to these topics. Despite my rambling, I hope that was communicated.

Thanks to Liane Graham for encapsulating my feelings in song better than anyone ever could:

I hope you're somewhere warm and white, like the flowers in your car
That you've escaped this labyrinth of suffering wherever you are
I've got a piece of you tucked away inside my mind
Memories of your  poetry and drinking your cheap wine

Thomas Edison's last words were, 'It's very beautiful over there,'
I don't know where there is, but I believe it's somewhere
And I hope it's beautiful, like you