Music Revival

I remember being at my cousin Kate's house a few years ago, I think it was on New Year's day, and she was burning some CD's for my cousin Em and me. They were talking about how music has gone through a great revival ever since the iPod came out. Ever since, the idea of a music revival has seemed enchanting.

I'm a music person but not as much as one might expect considering my musical background. Honestly I'm lazy and don't have the money to spend on music. I have found most of my favorite artists from the CDs that my friend Tracy makes me. Right now, my favorite artist is Ben Folds. His music is so calming, so relaxing, so sad, but so peaceful. He's always been in my top artists but as of now he is my number one. He is a genius on the piano and I am in love with his music. It's so precious, so from the soul, so deep, so heavy. So beautiful. I just wanted to share him with you... his videos are disabled from embedding, but look him up on youtube or myspace =]

love,

hilary

"Not everyone has a sob story... even if they do it's no excuse."
-Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Revenge is the Saddest Thing

"The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seek to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Throgh violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate. So it goes. Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive our darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."
-Marting Luther King, Jr.

I was sitting in my Statistics class today and I saw this quote up on the wall. I don't know who put it there or when it was tacked up, but it struck me when I read it. I think a lot of times people tend to think as something physical, but it definitely can be something more than that. Violence stems from hatred. And hatred stems form violence. It seems as though it is a neverending circle. But it doesn't have to be. You know the song "Let Peace Begin with Me." I'm sure you do. If everyone just started promoting peace in their personal lives, bigger conflicts could be solved. If people would drop their hatred and their prejudices the world woule be an amazing place.

I'm not saying that it's easy to just go ahead and drop your hatred, but once you do, you feel so much better. When I have hatred in me, it weighs me down. It makes it hard for me to go on with the rest of my life because this nasty feeling inside of me distracts me from anything else. I honestly hate seeing people suffer. When I am upset with someone, I might think violent thoughts or wish bad things upon them, but if anything actually happened to him or her, I would be devastated. I cannot stand seeing others in pain. I'm an extremely empathetic person and it is really difficult for me many times because I see the pain that others are going through and I feel the same pain. I don't understand how people can get pleasure from the misery of others. Hanging onto something for revenge or for punishment just ends up hurting me more in the end.

It's still January. Resolutions can be made now, they can be made at any time of the year. Let go of hatred. Let go of bitterness. Let go of revenge. We have a new year and a new president, and with government funding of abortion we need as much peace as we can get.

I love you.
Hilary

Over In Killarney

An Irish Lullaby
TOO-RA-LOO-RA-LOO-RA

Over in Killarney,
Many years ago,
Me mother sang a song to me
In tones so sweet and low.
Just a simple little ditty,
In her good old Irish way,
And I'd give the world if she could sing
That song to me this day.
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
Hush, now don't you cry!
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
That's an Irish lullaby.
Oft, in dreams I wander
To my home again,
I feel her arms around me
As when she held me then.
And I hear her voice a humin'
To me in days of yore,
When she used to rock me fast asleep
Outside the cabin door.
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
Hush, now don't you cry!
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
That's an Irish lullaby.

This website has the lyrics and the song playing in the background:
http://www.songofdixie.com/over_in_killarney.htm

My mom used to sing this song to me when I was little. She never knew all the words, because that's just how she is =], but I remember her singing it to me. In an extremely Americanized household, I hold dear to myself the traditions and culture I do have from Ireland and Poland.

love,
hilary/grace

The Curse of the Internet

Okay, so I just thought I'd throw this out there that sometimes I hate the fact that anyone can read my blog. Yes, of course I want people to read what I write--that is the reason i blog, after all-- but I hate when I can't post something because of its content. That's the big bad difference between blogging and journaling. It's not even the fact that someone might be reading my blog as much as it is that someone specific might be reading it whose eyes wouldn't even appreciate the time it takes me to write these posts. It's really just that I wish I could modify who can read specific posts and such because sometimes I need to get everything out onto the page but I can't because of this modern inconvenience known as the world wide web.
-grace(hilary)

From Stephen King's On Writing

"One day in late June of that summer, a bunch of us library guys had lunch on the grass behind the university bookstore. Sitting between Paolo Silva and Eddie Marsh was a trim girl with a raucous laugh, red-tinted hair, and the prettiest legs I had ever seen, well-displayed beneath a short yellow skirt. She was carrying a copy of Soul on Ice by Eldridge Cleaver. I hadn't run across her in the library, and I didn't believe a college student could utter such a wonderful, unafraid laugh. Also, heavy reading or no heavy reading, she swore like a millworker instead of a coed. (Having been a millworker, I was qualified to judge.) Her name was Tabitha Spruce. We got married a year and a half later. We're still married, and she has never let me forget that the first time I met her I though she was Eddie Marsh's townie girlfriend. Maybe a book-reading waitress from the local pizza joint on her afternoon off."

This is by no means my favorite passage in his book, seeing as Stephen King is flipping hilarious, but it caught my attention when he mentioned Tabitha's "raucous laugh." My own laugh is... to put it nicely... unique. It's loud and uncontrolled, uncontrollable. It definitely has caused me some embarrassment, but honestly, I love to laugh. It de-stresses me. Laughing and diet coke are my only vices. I have people come up to me in the hallway asking me if I was laughing in class... oopsssssss =] In the end though, I do like my laugh, it makes me who I am and allows me to have fun. It even gives me conversation starters and something to write about. "I love to laugh hahahaha, loud and long and clear! I love to laugh hahahaha, so everybody can hear. The more I laugh hahahaha, the more I'm filled with glee. The more the glee hahahaha, the more I'm a merrier me!" Mary Poppins anyone?

love,
hilary/grace

An Unsung Hero

I'm currently taking a Hero in American Literature course. Today we were discussing how there are many times when people have similar qualities and are both heroes, but one might be a public hero while the other is a local hero. Today, I was checking through the blogs I read and I found a post from a woman named Stephanie. I have been reading her blog since late June/early July when I first started compulsively blogging. I think this post in particular depicts her as a true hero. Stephanie is currently raising two beautiful daughters while her husband, Jim, is in Afghanistan. It's many times the unsung heroes that are the strongest people.
love,
hilary/grace

Marie Antoinette

I have always been fascinated by Marie Antoinette. Last year when I took a course in European history and was able to choose my research topic, I wrote a paper about Marie Antoinette and gave a more balanced view of the controversial queen. Much of my information came from Tea at Trianon. Isn't she gorgeous?

love,
hilary/grace

So Much Love

You got so much love in you
You got so much love in you
I'm amazed that I'm talking to you
You look like the songs that I've heard my whole life coming true
-The Rocket Summer

Uninhibited Hilary

Okay. I realized why I'm so addicted to blogging. I've been on a quest since idontknowwhen. A quest to find myself. Sitting there at the computer, reading my blog, can you honestly say that you know who you are? I keep trying to answer questions. I keep collecting little pieces of myself. I keep trying to learn about myself. I need to know, you know? I'm at my happiest when I understand myself and I understand my life. But sometimes I think I know who I am and then something happens and it tests my trust in myself. I can't ever completely understand myself, let alone the world, but I can put the pieces together. That's where blogging comes in. I write on the computer if I'm doing a longer piece because I hate seeing my shapeshifting handwriting cover the paper. Blogging lets me write about myself, about my views, about my life. My blog is a chronicle of my life since basically June. If you look at my earlier posts I was very hesitant to mention anything about my personal life, and certainly there are still many things I don't mention on my blog, but blogging let's me explore myself.

This morning my friend Katie told me that her mom said, "That Hilary is so uninhibited!" When Katie first told me this I thought it was more of a disapproving statement, as in... "That Hilary is... hmm... how can I put this nicely? Uninhibited." But Katie told me that wasn't it at all. Outgoing. Confident. Extroverted.

I am outgoing, I will say that, but my confident levels waver up and down quite often. In general, I'm a fairly confident person. It often depends on the vibes I get from other people. I'm only outgoing when I'm comfortable. If you came into my creative writing class last semester, you would hear me laughing so loud and talking a lot, being myself, but enter my Hero in Lit class this semester and you wouldn't think I was the same person. I have absolutley no friends in my class. It's all people who took the class as a joke, and while I signed up for journalism, I got thrown in with the mix. Yesterday in class I got really nervous when I had to introduce myself to the class... my hands were all clammy and I was shaky and looked down the whole time. It was not good.

There's no way to define me indefinitely, I understand that. If I were to give a shot at defining myself, I would present my friends. I rely very much on my relationships. I always need to be by people. That's why I never get my homework done =] I constantly need to know that there are people there for me. Without my friends or even acquaintances, I don't know who I am. It's a very rare occasion that I want to be alone. Even when I'm upset I'll usually want to be with my friends. They just make me feel better. Yeah, if I'm crying I'm not going to want a bunch of random people standing around, but I feel so much better when I cry with my friends by my side. With Andrea, Veronica, Amy, or Julija. I can cry and not worry about being judged.

It's probably not so great that I rely on my relationships so much because I can't always be with someone. So yeah, I'll be home, in my room, but I'll be on my laptop, connected to AIM or Facebook, or I'll be talking on the phone. I am extremely dependent on my friends. I think something I need to work on is being alone. Over the summer I have a lot of time to myself, and I am happier during the summer because I understand myself more, but I also get very depressed during the summer because I am not constantly in the midst of life, in the middle of action.

Okay, I am just losing my train of thought now... stress is getting to me. [I've spent a considerable amount of time not talking to anyone, so that's good.] Let me just say, that as this week is going on, it is getting better. It's been busy and stressful, but it's definitely improving. Hopefully tomorrow will be better yet =]

I'll post more when I get my thoughts together.
Love,
Hilary.... Grace

The Sunrise

I hope that today I see the sun rise. I don't think I will because we will be taking the streets to school instead of the expressway, but I hope I see the sun rise. My dad always says that if you see the sun rise, it will be a good day. So I want to see the sun rise.
love,
grace

Hilary Marie

For the last few years, I have been confused about who I am, what I am supposed to do with my life, why I am here. I think I should start right now but just saying my real name. I'll still go by Grace on my blog, but my real name is Hilary. Hilary Marie. Hilary means "cheerful one." That's a start.

Hate Poem--Julie Sheehan

I'm cleaning my room [I keep getting distracted either by the computer or by all the things I find] and I was sorting through everything I got from my Creative Writing teacher. I found a poem that she gave us and that Will sent me last year. Ms. Wagenschutz, my Creative Writing teacher loves this poem. I thought I'd post it, to see what you think of it.

Hate Poem

by Julie Sheehan

I hate you truly. Truly I do.

Everything about me hates everything about you.

The flick of my wrist hates you.

The way I hold my pencil hates you.

The sound made by my tiniest bones were they trapped

in the jaws of a moray eel hates you.

Each corpuscle singing in its capillary hates you.

Look out! Fore! I hate you.

The blue-green jewel of sock lint I'm digging

from under by third toenail, left food, hates you.

The history of this keychain hates you.

My sigh in the background as you explain relational databases

hates you.

The goldfish of my genius hates you.

My aorta hates you. Also my ancestors.

A closed window is both a closed window and an obvious

symbol of how I hate you.

My voice curt as a hairshirt: hate.

My hesitation when you invite me for a drive: hate.

My pleasant "good morning": hate.

You know how when I'm sleepy I nuzzle my head

under your arm? Hate.

The whites of my target-eyes articulate hate. My wit

practices it.

My breasts relaxing in their holster from morning

to night hate you.

Layers of hate, a parfait.

Hours after our latest row, brandishing the sharp glee of hate,

I dissect you cell by cell, so that I might hate each one

individually and at leisure.

My lungs, duplicitous twins, expand with the utter validity

of my hate, which can never have enough of you.

Breathlessly, like two idealists in a broken submarine.

This is from Poetry 180, a poem a day for american high schools. Now, substitute each "hate" with "love."

love, grace

i carry your heart

Last night my friends Carol and Caroline were over and we watched In Her Shoes. At the end of the movie one of the characters recited this poem by e.e. cummings. I don't usually like cummings, but I really liked this poem. Then I was surfing the blogosphere (I realize I sounded like a huge computer nerd there by saying that and I don't care) and I ran across this poem again. I thought there must be a reason that I ran into it twice in two days, so I thought I'd post it.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

e.e. cummings

St. Valentine's Day

I'm going to be out of town on Valentine's Day. St. Valentine's Day.

It wouldn't matter to me, except that I'm not going to see my Valentine for only the 2nd time in the 19 Valentine's Days I have had in my life. February 14, 2008 will be 8 YEARS that my mom is cancer free! {& 8 is my family's lucky number because Mom, Tom, and I were born on the eighth of our respective months.}

It was the end of January. A Sunday after Church. Mom and Dad called Tom and me into the living room. I racked my brain for something that I had done that would have gotten me into trouble... I always do that when a serious conversation comes about. But I hadn't done anything wrong. My mom had cancer. Breast Cancer. I was in 4th grade. And by the time I was in fifth grade I knew more about chemo and radiation than any eleven year old should know. Now, I have stories to tell about my experiences that I will eventually expand on, but the one story I remember the most vividly is this:

My Uncle Dan was taking care of Tom, Chris, and me. Our relatives and friends all helped out whenever my parents needed it. It was June 8th, my mom's birthday [my half birthday as I continuously reminded my mom when I was little.] My mom was having a treatment of chemo. It was a Friday. My mom had her chemo on Thursdays as I recall, but this week it had to be changed. Tommy, Chris, and I were sitting outside of Stella's batting cages, licking our soft serve ice cream that the setting sun was quickly melting. My uncle Dan looked at the sun and said, "The sun always shines on your mom's birthday."

So on February 14, 2001 my mom was having surgery to remove the cancer. She left us notes and candy at our spots at the kitchen table. On February 14, 2009, I will be on Kairos and my mom will be at home. She will be 8 years of Cancer Free. She is my Valentine, now and forever. I love you, Mom.

H.A.M. (pronounced ham)

Well, here is a clue as to what my real name is. H.A.M. = H., Amy, and Michaele(thegirl.) It started out as a day out and turned into an adventurous day out. Cute tidbits about Amy: she ordered a cheese and fig sandwich today at cosi [it was nasty hahahah] and she uses adjectives without nouns... example: What a lame. She's a beautiful. It's a little. Tidbit about Mike: She's named after her mom who was named after the archangel and she wears fake glasses that her friend Brit got her for Christmas. I would just like to inform the world that H.A.M. is the greatest thing since butt rollers.

Love, Grace

My friends are my best accessories...

These girls. Julija, Veronica, and Andrea

These girls are my best friends.
They make fun of me all the time, whether it's about my laugh or my cluelessness or my procrastinating on my finite homework and turning it in two days late when we had all semester to do it... or even the fact that I'm a blogger. Haha, I'm a blogger. HELLO, WORLD! We have our "special places," inside jokes... bitchYYY, butt rollers... like heelys for your pants!, in my life... we burst out into song at random moments and will walk down the hall way singing anything from backstreet boys to phantom of the opera. We spend hours in Jimmy John's and Massa, laughing so loud that it's actually surprising that we don't get kicked out... We're complete idiots but we're actually really intelligent... Absentminded professors? We are dedicated to each other and to our activities and once we commit to something we don't back out. We are people of our word.

I think the best thing about my friends, though, is that even when they are trying to cheer me up, they still make fun of me. The don't just act all sympathetic and not really give a shit... they genuinely care about me... and they know that I love them so much that it helps that they make fun of me. I love my friends. I truly do. I love my friends. They tell me when I'm overreacting, when I'm wrong about people, when I'm right about people, when I'm being a little too crazy. I think the way you really know when you love someone is when you know that you can yell at each other and make fun of each other and go crazy on each other, but at the end of the day, everything is going to be fine. Seriously, I call Andrea "Mom" and she responds to me. We are family. The only other people that I know I can yell at and get away with it are my mom, dad, Tom, and Chris. So I have told guys that I love them, yeah, and it has always been a lie. And I have told other friends of mine that I love them, and well, I love them, but I don't love them unconditionally. Like really, I screamed at Julija in front of the entire choir and we're still friends. And I call Ronica all the time and make fun of her for her height and tease her nonstop, and she even wrote a blog about me. I completely flipped out at Andrea and, well, she let's me refer to her as Mom. I've got some kickass friends.

So, today, I wore my accessories that make me who I am. I wore my earrings and necklace that my aunt Kathy gave me before she passed away when I was in 8th grade, and I wore my friend Amy's tank top, and I wore the matching underwear that I got when I was with Amy and Michaele(thegirl) and I wore the Claudaugh ring that belonged to my grandmother... I had the people I love with me today. My best accessories today though, were those beauties up there... Andrea, Ronica, and Julija up there. They've got my back and I've got theirs. And, yeah, it took me two years to find my friends, but it was worth it, because the happiness I have experienced with them in the past year and half has outweighed by far the struggle I had during the first to years of high school. So here's to the girls, not aphrodite and persephone ( ) but my girls, Mom, Bee, and Julija. It's cliche, but I would fall up staircases without having anyone to laugh at me without you.

Love,
Grace

P.S. Friends are like bras: close to the heart and always there for support.
P.P.S. I would rather have you guys than wear a bra. =]

From Write on Wednesday

What’s your favourite genre of writing? Creative Nonfiction
How often do you get writer’s block? Whenever I have an assignment due =]
How do you fix it? I just write anything I can think of, try to get into a good mood so that I can get my creative juices going
Do you type or write by hand? I type because my handwriting changes every two seconds and I can't stand it...
Do you save everything you write? No, I should, but some of it is soooo bad
Do you ever go back to an old idea long after you abandoned it? Yessir =]
Do you have a constructive critic? Not officially, but my Creative Writing teacher and my friends give me good feedback
Did you ever write a novel? haha, it's only one of my greatest aspirations
What genre would you love to write but haven’t? I would love to BE GOOD at writing ficion
What’s one genre you have never written, and probably never will? I hate poetry. I've written it, but I hate it. Ugh Poetry. Die.
How many writing projects are you working on right now? Currently I'm being extremely lazyy... I have a lot of unfinished projects
Do you write for a living? Do you want to? I do not write for a living but someday I hope to
Have you ever written something for a magazine or newspaper? I've submitted something... it was a really poorly written piece with a very poorly chosen subject
Have you ever won an award for your writing? no
What are your five favourite words? precious... oh man, i can't think right now...
Do you ever write based on your dreams? No
Do you favour happy endings, sad endings, or cliff-hangers? Mmm... not cliffhangers... I try to change it up between happy and sad endings... not everything is happy in life, but not everything is completely depressing
Have you ever written based on an artwork you’ve seen? No

Answering a question...

Last week, I was talking to my friend’s cousin. And he asked me why I act. Why do I act? I guess I could make it sound important, like I feel it’s my calling or whatever, but really I act because of the high I get at the end of the show, the desire to feel like I’ve accomplished something, and a terrible need to be loved. People clapping, the attention on you, singing your heart out, perfecting what seemed impossible… I know that during the rehearsal process I can act like a total bitch [again, I’m sorry for the language] but at the end, the struggle was worth it. You can’t appreciate something unless you know what its opposite is. The frustration is all worth it when you walk onstage for the first time and feel the warmth, maybe the wonder or skepticism of the audience. If you know the people are expecting a stellar presentation, than you give it to them, and if they are looking forward to a disaster onstage, you disappoint them with the best performance you’ve ever given. Because in the end, it isn’t really about the audience. Not for me anyway. I don’t act out of the goodness of my heart or because of the joy I get from knowing that I entertained someone for the evening. I have other ways of brightening people’s lives. I act out of complete selfishness. I act for myself, because the audience brings me joy. They help me perform to my best ability. They make me feel like I’m worth it.

The acting high? Very similar to the running high. I only get it after musicals though, not straight plays. I feel infinite. I can keep going forever, because the energy of the cast, the enthusiasm of the audience… it can keep me alive longer than imaginable. After the opening performance of Kiss Me, Kate, I was a little, well more than a little, unsettled to hear that someone in the audience had referred to me as a “f---ing slut.” But you know what? That was exactly what I was supposed to be. I am not a slut in any meaning of the word, but Lois Lane? Yeah, she’s as slutty as they come. So every night, I tried to become Lois more and more. I was actually thinking about it earlier today, and I wish I could have had more time to find my character. I really can never find my character until I have a costume. A men’s pajama shirt and three inch heels? I can find Lois for you. A blue jumper and a white ribbon? Belle can be found there somewhere. I can do it. I promise you. It takes some time and direction, but I am an actress. And the feeling of knowing that I’ve accomplished it, that people enjoyed watching me, and that at least the character I played is worth watching even if my day-to-day self isn’t… that’s what keeps me going. It’s weird, but sometimes when I’m onstage, playing someone completely different from myself, I’m more myself than I am on a daily basis. Because I’m doing what I love. So Pat, that’s why I act.

Love,
Grace

I sometimes have a hard time watching movies... well, I just get distracted very easily from anything I'm doing. So the first time I saw Rent, I was less than thrilled with it. I just rewatched it last night. Wow.

There's only us. There's
only this. Forget regret, or life is yours to miss.

I find this trailer so moving.

Resolutions...

New year's resolutions? Ehh, not really, just a bunch of things that I've been wanting to do. I don't know if I can accomplish them all in one year... I just want to do them... at some point... maybe soon. Whenver I decide to take on one thing I always think I can do better. And I can do better... somewhere along the way I just lost the willpower. So here's to 2009 and all the good and bad it will bring. Here's to the new people I will meet, and the old people I can continue to cherish.

· Write more letters
· Be trustworthy
· Be honest
· Don’t be afraid to say what I think
· Show people when I love them
· Forgive.
· Practice for voice lessons
· Learn piano
· Start running again.
· Lose the 23 pounds I gained in 2008
· Find time for myself. For reading. For writing. For taking bubble baths and pampering myself.
· Find who I am and what I believe.
· Find the line between having fun and being obnoxious.
· Not to be a bitch. [Sorry for the language.]
· Be healthy.
· Save money.
· Stop swearing.
· Be confident.
· Get organized.
· Stop being scared.
· See the movies I’ve wanted to see.
· Get off the damn computer.
· Start walking.
· Go on the swings at the park once a week.
· Catch up with people.
· Make friends at college.
· Make this summer count.
· Get scholarships.
· Find somewhere I love to work.
· Take yoga classes
· Stop being lazy.
· Take up photography.
· Learn to sew.
· Find who I can trust.
· Make communication more personal.
· Find a new subject to study.
· Learn to dance.
· Eat what I want. But don’t overeat.
· Learn how to cook something other than pasta, eggs, and French toast =]
· Do what I want. No regrets.
Love,
Grace