"I'm tough, ambitious, and know exactly what I want. If that makes me a bitch, okay"
-Madonna

Vocal Rest

So in general I take care of my voice, but I always seem to run into trouble right around performance time. I am always sick at auditions, I am always sick during the tech weeks of my musicals, and now I've done it again... I strained my voice. I was at the Ben Folds (my favorite artist) concert on Friday and was screaming, naturally... so here I am a few days before my showcase with my music fraternity and I can't hit the notes that I can normally hit with no problem. So for now I am on vocal rest, trying to cure my self-inflicted problem. I have done this before. When I was a freshman in high school the White Sox won the world series and I screamed and banged pots and pans outside... but of course that week was opening night of Anything Goes and my voice was cracking nonstop. I had to lipsync on stage and when I said my lines audience members laughed because of my squeaking! Ahhhh... of course these events at which I strain my voice always have to happen right before I go onstage... sigh.

Soul Mates

As defined by Richard from Texas:

"A soul mate sometimes enters our life as someone to stir us up. To hold up the mirror so that we can see ourselves more clearly and antagonize us and make us so uncomfortable that we have to change because we can't continue to look at the same thing because we're looking at it clearly now. This is the reason a soul mate may not last forever. The encounter is so intense and so clarifying that we burn through those things quickly."

The Morning Song

This is a song that I first heard on a retreat last year. We listened to it every morning and it was a beautiful way to start the day. Every once in a while I will still listen to it in the morning and it is a very easy way to fit in a prayer before going off to school or work.

Love,
Hilary

Relay For Life

This past Saturday I participated in my second Relay for Life, an event that signifies the journey of a cancer patient and raises money for the American Cancer Society. When I was ten years old my mom and dad told me that my mom had Breast Cancer. In the year following her diagnosis, she had a lumpectomy, chemotherapy, and radiation. I am both proud and extremely blessed to be able to say that as of this past Valentine's Day, my mom is a NINE YEAR CANCER SURVIVOR. Hearing so many stories about the cancer battles that so many people have faced, are facing, and will continue to face reminded me of my own family's stories. There are a lot of sad ones and a lot of scary ones, but my favorite story of all is this one:

On the days that my mom had chemotherapy, we always had someone come over and take us to do fun activities so that when my mom got home she would be able to rest for a little while. I know I went with so many people, so many good friends and family, but the one day I remember most clearly was a day that my brothers and I spent with my uncle Dan: June 8, 2001, my mom's birthday. We were sitting outside Stella's, the batting cages near our town, eating ice cream and talking. The sun was so bright and was beginning to set and we started talking about it. "The sun always shines on your mom's birthday," said Uncle Dan.

This is a testament to how strong hope is. My mom and my entire family went through cancer treatments and this is the most powerful memory I have of it. Although I do remember some terribly poignant and sad times, this is the memory that will always stay with me. Love and happiness will defeat hatred and despair every time. You know, my Uncle Dan was right. The sun does always shine on my mom's birthday because the world is so blessed and lucky to have her and it joins in her celebration. The year after this story, June 8, 2002, my mom and all her family and friends were able to celebrate her 50th birthday. We were able to rejoice not only in another year, but in the fact that she made it through one of the most difficult years of her life. We continue to celebrate every year, remembering how providence allowed my mom to keep her life.

I am very blessed to be able to tell this story with this ending, and believe me, I thank God for it every day. There is a poem that one of the speakers at Relay read, a poem that was written by a little boy who had cancer:
About Angels
by Mattie Stepanek

Do you know what angels wear?
They wear
Angel-halos and Angel-wings, and
Angel-dresses and Angel-shirts under them, and
Angel-underwear and Angel-shoes and Angel-socks, and
On their heads
They wear
Angel-hair -
Except if they don't have any hair.
Some children and grownups
Don't have any hair because they
Have to take medicine that makes it fall out.
And sometimes,
The medicine makes them all better.
And sometimes,
The medicine doesn't make them all better,
And they die.
And they don't have any Angel-hair.
So do you know what God does then?
He gives them an
Angel-wig.
And that's what Angels wear.

I just wanted to share with you all part of my story, and I wanted to let you know that I pray for you all every day. God bless all of you who have been affected by cancer in some way, and God continue to bless all of you who have not so that you may never have to experience it. This post is in honor of all those who have survied and in loving memory of all those who have passed away from this terrible disease.

Here are some pictures from this event:

For all you Jane Austen fans...

The Pride and Prejudice Facebook.

My favorite short short story =]

To the Point of Breaking, the Rope was Stretched
By Miranda Stock

To the point of breaking, the rope was stretched. At the end of which hung a twitching, whey-faced Arthur, and his pig, Marmite.

Marmite struggled and squealed as the sky and sea tilted, roller coaster style, the cliff jabbing into his side. A two hundred meter drop. Arthur was having a hard time holding on.

Marmite had been the runt of the litter. Arthur raised him from a half dead scrap to a 250 pound monster. There had been one attempt to load Marmite into the slaughterer's van, but Arthur, fierce and steadfast, blocked the ramp. And on this one thing Arthur's father acquiesced. He had given his son so little, but he saw that Arthur truly loved Marmite. Marmite, however, did not love Arthur.

That morning, when Arthur had taken Marmite breakfast, he found Marmite pensive. Marmite didn't even attempt to charge Arthur, but remained in the corner and absently glanced over, before showing his fat, quivering rump, disappearing into the hut.

Arthur was worried. Marmite off his food? This had never happened before. Was he unwell? No, the vet had checked him over just yesterday. He was in good health. Arthur edged towards the hut, calling Marmite's name. Some fresh air. A walk. That might be just the ticket.

To the furthest field, at the top of the cliffs, Arthur dragged a reluctant Marmite. The view was marvelous, wraparound sky, steely grey sea. Arthur felt they should stay to enjoy it. He tied the rope, which was attached to Marmite's collar, to a nearby bench. They sat down by the edge.
Arthur tried to reason with Marmite. It was a lovely day. The sun was out. The world was a good place.

Marmite did not respond.

Arthur tried a different tack. He and Marmite might go further. They might stroll across to the woods, have a root through the undergrowth. Acorns and everything, Arthur said.
Marmite snorted.

Finally, Arthur reached across to stroke Marmite's wrinkled brow, and that was when Marmite lurched, screaming, at Arthur, knocking them both over the edge. The rope whipped tight, catching Marmite as he fell. Arthur, in his descent, threw out a hand and scrabbled for the rope, his feet bouncing off Marmite's head.

And thus, they hung from the rope. And there was no doubt about it - it was him or the pig. Arthur's fingers reached for Marmite's collar.

men can stop rape.

Hello lovelies!
Here is a wonderful article to read. Please do read it. It is extremely well written, let alone extremely imperative.
Warmly,
Hilary

life. delightful, delicious, and delovely life.

It's almost two in the morning. I am happy because. Because I don't need a reason to be happy.

Hallelujah.

A best friend...

... is someone who comes to get you when you are laying face first in the grass in the quad, crashing from three consecutive caffeine binges after your all-nighter. --Hannah Dussold

love, love, love
Hilary

currently reading...

For at least the past year and a half, every time I have walked into a book store I have seen this book, added it to my stack of possible purchases, and proceeded to put it down when it got down to the wire. You see, when I go into a book store, I basically want to inhale every book I see and as a result my possible purchases end up being around ten books after I have already forbidden myself to pick up many others along the way. I have a thirst for knowledge and a thirst for experiences and reading is my favorite way of learning. Of course I love going out and doing things myself as well. Ever since I was in fourth grade and my doctor told me I couldn't sit around reading all the time I have been aware that living my life by interacting with others is paramount. I do, however, still love the days I get to spend inside with only my current read as company. In the past month or so at school I have been getting antsy. Every time I sat down to read it was for one of my classes and while my English major self does love to read the classics, I was missing getting a high off of reading. (I experience these highs in other ways as well including running and performing, but I as I have been lazy in my working out and have not been on stage in almost a year things were getting grim.) So I went to the bookstore in search of a book that could satisfy my literary appetite. It has been over a year I'd say since I read something that I really loved. I never thought when I picked up Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat Pray Love that it would curb my craving. But it has! I am reading it right now over Easter break, and I knew from the first page that this would be a book that I would love. Elizabeth Gilbert is an eloquent writer and her story of her "search for everything" is something that I think we can all connect on. It fits in flawlessly with the idea of "traveling" that I wrote about a few posts back. Please read this book! It is deliciously well-written and provides the reader with self-assurance and pure delight.

eat, pray, love,
Hilary

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

Things to Be Happy About

*I am sitting in my lovely green room
*I already finished one book this break and am working on the second of five
*It is warm enough to have the fan going in my room
*I am not a vegetarian anymore
*My mom and dad and I went visiting churches--a Polish Catholic tradition for Holy Thursday
*Tom had his wisdom teeth out today and was hilariously high
*I understand myself so well and appreciate that it takes time every day to continue learning about one's self
*I am double majoring in women's studies and English =]
*I am talking to one of my very best friends on skype
*Sarah Dessen is fabulous
*Easter is Sunday and I get to see more family
*Audrey Hepburn is hanging on my wall
*Next year I will have my own room
*I have wonderful friends

Love,
Hilary

"If you judge people you have no time to love them."
-Mother Teresa

Miss Holiday Golightly, Traveling: A Discourse on "Home"

Truman Capote's most widely known character, Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffany's, has on her mailbox a business card that reads "Miss Holiday Golightly, Traveling." She also has a cat named "Cat" because he doesn't belong to her and she doesn't belong to him so she has no right to give him a name. In the film version of this book she tells Paul Varjak that "If I could find a real-life place that made me feel life Tiffany's then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name." She doesn't want to buy any furniture and she doesn't want to give her cat a name until she can find a place that makes her feel peaceful and at home? That is exactly how I feel. These past few months I have been discovering that we are all just looking for a permanent place.

Since I started college this fall, I've been struggling with an internal conflict: the concept of "home." Where is home? "Home is where the heart is." What if my heart is in two places, three places, even four places at a time? Does that make all of them my home? How can one truly be content with her heart spread in so many different places? My home is in Riverside, Illinois where I grew up with a loving family and more blessings than anyone could wish for. My home is in the choir hallway and the McLaughlin theatre at St. Ignatius where I spent countless hours rehearsing, sleeping, laughing, and crying. My home is on the cross country course and in the tent that we set up before every meet. My home is at St. Louis University where I formed a family of my own and where my life is. My home is the city of Chicago at night where I feel safe and surrounded by peaceful life. I find my home in so many places and it is so difficult because there are some parts of my home that I cannot go back to. Yes, I love my choir hallway and theatre but I would never choose to go backwards in my life rather than forwards. Yes, cross country helped me to grow in so many ways, but I could never allow myself to be so exhausted all the time again. And as much as I love my family, I cannot give up this new independence and freedom of self-expression that I have found by living on my own. So my home is all over the place. Is that okay?

Yes, that's okay, but it's definitely not ideal. Or is it? Everywhere I go I will always be missing someone or something. And that is a sad idea. But, at the same time, that means that anywhere I go, I will always have someone in another city missing me. Is missing someone else worth knowing that they are missing me too? Yes, I'd say it is.

I think we are all traveling. Especially in these early years of our lives. We cannot know everything that we want and we are not ready to settle down, but we are looking forward to the moment when we are because once we have found our permanent place we can buy furniture and give the cat a name. And who doesn't want a place to sit and a furry creature named Roscoe?

Love,
Hilary

Who is Carolyn Keene?

As an avid reader, I spent the majority of my childhood summer days inside, flipping pages and taking in as much adventure, love, and knowledge as I could. One of my favorite companions was Nancy Drew whose clever mystery-solving tactics always held me in awe and admiration. I remember reading the book and asking my mom what the word "sleuth" meant--it turns out it means "detective"--and thus, Nancy helped my vocabulary to grow. I was always puzzled when, from one book to the next, the physical description of Nancy changed. In one book, Nancy would have red hair, in the next she would be a blonde, and in the one after that the author would compromise between those by giving her titian hair. Finally, after years of curiosity, I solved that mystery... the Nancy Drew books were "ghostwritten." In other words, the creator, Edward Stratemeyer, gave several different authors the outlines of the books and had them write them for him since he didn't have the time. All the authors were published under the pseudonym, Carolyn Keene. How crazy is that? I often wondered how Nancy Drew books were still being published, and out comes the truth. Here is the article that led to this discovery: http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/la-et-story28a-2010mar28,0,4785469.story.

I hope this is not just news to me... it gave a whole new momentum to my Nancy fetish.

Love,

Hilary