Smallville of All Things

Let me start by saying I'm writing this blog for me. In fact, many of you (who am I kidding? It's not like I have that many readers....) THOSE OF YOU who read this may not even get why I chose to even post a blog about what I'm about to say.

So I'm writing this for me. In fact, after a rousing conversation via text with my Dearest Cousin who is also one of my twin souls on this earth about writing a story for me--not because I want to become a writer, and not because I'm thinking about the possibility of it getting published one day-- but just for me, I decided to try my hand first at a blog post. Let's keep it on a small scale for now. If you're going to begin grand changes of thinking, it's best to take baby steps, I've learned.  So that's what this is. And in doing so, the verbage, the cadence, the structure may not even be perfect but I don't care. I'm writing this so I remember this moment. I'm risking the fact that no one else may actually get the significance of this.

Ok. So wanna talk immaturity? Let's talk about my obsession with the TV show Smallville, which aired on the CW for I don't even know--ten seasons I think? I used to watch it when I was a teenager. Let me paint a picture for you. Or wait, since I'm writing this for me, let me repaint the picture for myself so the memory is clearer, more poignant. It was a happy, happy time. I was dedicated to this show when I was hmm...let's see 15-18 I think? I had the best room in the house, was still living at home. I associate my first semesters of undergrad (I started early at community college) and my competitive tennis days with my memories of living in that room. It was my safe haven and I brought few people into it. I remember the carefree times of being there, and the family members who drove me crazy but who I loved being around and now miss so much that it aches sometimes. It was a big room--no special dimensions. Completely open from one end to the other, with a cozy slant in the ceiling on one side. I had a lovely closet that usually had lots of lovely fabric peeking out of it--complete girlish disarray on the inside but hey--no sloppy clothes on the floor outside. I had a huge window that overlooked the street, a huge desk, my daybed, and my computer that was the only portal I had to my best friend at the time. That's where I did my homework and the bulk of my writing (which stopped since I started college, oddly. I haven't finished a novel since the year before I started school).

And at night, I would watch my shows (to this day I call them my "happy shows" because of the memories they bring when I think of them). They were LOST and Smallville. I used to watch episodes at night.  My room was usually nice and warm in the summer since it was upstairs and I spent a lot of time trying to cool it down with my buzzing ceiling fan and the evening summer breezes. On commercial breaks during both of these shows, I would run into my parents' bedroom at the end of the hall and update them on what was going on in my beloved TV shows. My mom would always ask me a ton of questions, and they were always warranted since she to this day has no idea what either show is about. My dad, however, usually tried to keep running tabs perhaps only for the sake of offering intelligent conversation back to me when I was updating them at hyper-fast speeds. So he would always ask if I ever found out why the polar bear was on the island, and how the heck Clark Kent's high school friends still didn't know he was Superman.

I would sit on their bed on commercial breaks, jabbering as fast as I could to tell them what was going on as they both wondered how on earth I could get so caught up in stories even into my adolescence. (This was normal in my childhood. Was I never to grow out of it?)  But this is when I would tell them all that was going on in my life, when I sat on the end of their bed on commercial breaks. This is when I would tell them what I was up to and who I was talking to and what my friends were up to.

I'm not doing a very good job at describing this in the ethereal sense that I see it in my head, but that doesn't matter since I'm writing this for me, right?

These days were filled with such happy, lighthearted times. This was pre-boys, more importantly pre-Hardy saga (and for those of you who don't know what I mean, that's ok). This was pre-Pullman and everything that happened there and pre-Portland. I think of these times and I think of sweet conversations with my amazing parents while sitting on the edge of the quilt on my parents' bed. The scent I remember was peaceful. The summer breezes were peaceful, whether they blew in through the giant window as I did homework and talked to my then best friend online or while I was watching Smallville or LOST.

So back to the point (if there is a point) of this blog. I was introduced to a song while watching an episode of Smallville that I became drawn to. Even now, it's one of my favorite songs in the world and I listen to it often. It's called 'Wherever You Will Go' by The Calling.  Totally an old song. Totally cheesy, given the context. It was on the soundtrack for the show in either season 2 or season 3, I want to say?  It was a beautiful song that fit the plot perfectly, played at the end of an episode when you knew Clark could never tell his high school love, Lana, who he really was.  (If you don't know what that is, Google it). Then I chose to include that song on the soundtrack to one of my novels--a place where I thought it was a better fit. It was about a character who eventually died and his hope to protect the girl he loved. So the lyrics made sense there. And that song has stayed with me over the years. (It didn't just get lost in the 90's. haha).

I happened to be texting Ryan tonight, talking about how many years ago I first fell in love with him. (For those of you who don't know the story, he was the friend I would instant message while I was doing homework all those years ago). He was the first boy I ever "fell in love with." I use quotation marks for a reason. That's a whole different story for a different blog but yes. When I think of our talks, I think of discussing LOST or Smallville, which we did often.

I started watching episodes of a newer show this evening after the Super Bowl. It's another cheesy, silly CW show called 'Beauty and the Beast.' The primary reason I was interested was because it stars the female lead of my beloved Smallville, Kristin Kreuk. As shallow and silly as it sounds, her new show has been on for awhile now and I have been eager to explore it.

So I'm watching the episode, texting like three people and all of a sudden, Kristin Kreuk (the former Lana Lang and high school sweetheart of Tom Welling's Clark Kent), starts dancing with some guy. I'm not even paying attention at this point and I hear the familiar strains of a different version (sung by a female) to my old song, 'Wherever You Will Go.'

And for some reason, I was moved to tears. The hurried, disjointed cadence of this blog don't even do the moment justice. Multiple factors were part of those tears. Here I am texting someone about these sweet olden days filled with warm summer breezes, lots of loud laughter, the warmth of my family, and the simplicity of young life, and suddenly a shocking tie between those days and now appears, somehow linking us together--the old Katie and me now. Or perhaps somehow hinting that the good old days, the happily ever after, the innocence and laughter is here still.

Sure, it's Kristin Kreuk--but she's dancing with someone else. And this version of the song is sung by someone else--a female vocalist. It's a different TV show for Pete's sake! But some things...the melody...the words....


...some things remain the same, and get better with time. (The new version of the song has less of a 90's feel which is a good thing, right? Change can be good).

It was a weird, yet extremely moving moment.

New beauty is springing up all around me and hints of old beauty still surprise me from time to time. I want to remember this.