This Memory is Today

I've been going through a lot of ups and downs lately. I decided a week and a half ago that I was going to brave, braver than I already am. Because of my bold nature you might think I'm a brave soul, but since I've stopped creating I've been slowly deteriorating. Not taking any steps forward towards your destiny makes you more and more scared of the world. It's like I've been walking backwards when I was being told by everyone else that I'm moving forward.

What is your destiny? Sometimes looking at your childhood is what will help bring you forward. My childhood was filled with many productions I directed, many businesses I created, and many performances performed. Every time I take a detour of my path (which has been quite often lately) I get more frustrated with myself for not sticking to it. The possibility of other lives distract me and interest me, maybe even seem to be approved more by people I love. But when I turn around and go back, I know which one is my path and decide to either go back to it, or just try yet another. I don't think I'm going to follow another again.

I'm following my path, not anyone else's. This path comes with emotion, laughter, creation, risks, and helping others. It's a path that leads me to ultimate fulfillment. So why have I been so scared? Because getting older is scary. Becoming a adult is not easy. Yet losing that inner child wonder and curiosity is easy. What's not easy, is getting it back. So I'm committing today to holding onto it harder than I've ever held.

I'm brave. I'm bold. I'm not afraid of my own thoughts. I will be successful. I will create. I will be me. I will love my path because it's a path meant for me. And I thank god for Hector's path merging with mine because its a beautiful road we have together, assisting one another towards our destiny. The sun's out, there are trees, and a breeze and we are holding hands.

Keep walking and don't worry about taking a look behind you to remind you of where you came from and where you've always wanted to go. Love your life and live it the way you always have imagined because it's your path. Keep dreaming.

Mothers kill their children. Let's drink a Bloody to remember.

On my lunch break dreaming of a Bloody Mary, I decided to indulge in a peppadew pepper, garlic stuffed green olive, pickled okra, roasted tomato, and a cornichon. If I had the option, I would throw those delicious decorations in a Bloody Mary filled glass with some tender chewy cooked shrimp and a celery rib. Mmm delish. Any hoo, this memory is not very exciting so I am recreating it in a fictional manner. A spooky tale that is very bloody.

My mother bought me a sharpened knife set for the holidays. What a lovely gift, no? For an aspiring chef and homemaker I was truly appreciative. Eager to try the new knives, I decided to make a delicious Bloody Mary with fresh lime juice. After finding the perfect recipe, I ventured to the grocery store to pick up the ingredients. This Bloody Mary for sure would be a delight... or deadly. How was I to know my mother had put an evil spell on the knives to test my ability to live? I didn't, so I made my way home with the ingredients eager to take a sip.

After mixing the vodka, tomato juice, hot sauce and celery salt, I set out the final ingredients on the kitchen cart. The contrast of the bright green lime against the red tomato-vodka concoction brought me back to summer. I could practically smell the fragrant vine tomato plant that grew on my porch, and hear the tomatoes giggling in delight while bathing in the hot summer sun. My mouth began to water.

I pulled out one of the freshly sharpened knives. Holding the knife in one hand and the lime in the other, I sliced the lime in half. OW! The pain! Slicing into the tip of my thumb holding the lime the acidic lime juice poured into the open wound. I'm dying! Crying for help with no one around, I feared my life! Blood dripping down my hand I cried "Bloody Mary!" But the pain did not stop. The only way I was to live was to reverse the spell of the intention behind the knives! My mother was trying to kill me! Screaming "Bloody Hilly! Bloody Hilly!" I washed the wound, wrapped it tight and held it above my heart until the blood clotted. Heart still beating steady, I took a deep breath. I was alive. I then took the bloody knife and mixed my drink, and took a long sip. It tasted salty. Salty like blood. And now I know why they call it a "Bloody" Mary.

My mother loves me, don't get me wrong. I know that no matter how twisted mothers can be, they always have a love deep in their heart for their children. But they also at some point want to kill you. At some point in a mother's life she may be willing to teach you a lesson so great that she will kill you or wish that you were dead. Hamsters and polar bears often kill and eat their young, filial cannibalism is the name. Looking on the bright side, human mothers do not usually eat their young. These important realizations came clear to me this holiday season after a taste for a Bloody Mary. Who knows when they will for you? I feel so fortunate to be alive and to share with you this bloody tale.

Be careful with the gifts you are given for they may result in your death. You hold the power to reverse the spell: just trust your instincts, accept the dark truths of life, and you will live too.

Drinks and dumbasses.

I love to dance. I love the queer scene. I love to go out with friends. This equation landed me at Berlin and Spin many nights of 2008 and 2009. These two spots are located around Boystown in Chicago which is the first nationally recognized gay neighborhood. You can also figure it out by all the rainbows.

My work friends and I had an after work routine called "Spin... BERLIN!" Not only is it catchy, it rhymes and I'm really into rhyming. Spin was your typical gay bar and what makes gay bars so fabulous is the super cheap drinks, specials every night, and safe male filled atmosphere of men that aren't going to attempt to bone you. There is always an occasional booby touch but it's only because they are curious. It's all in fun.

The often sketchy smorgasbord dance club Berlin draws a diverse crowd consisting of your random euros, drag queens, cross dressers, gay men, lesbians, trannies, fag hags, "straight" men, and very sketchy randoms. Most people came to Berlin for the music. The bar is set up surrounding a dance floor. If you don't dance, Berlin is not your spot.

One evening, I was dancing like crazy and a sketchy random kept getting close to me. I was wearing a cute brown corduroy blazer with front pockets, a low cut dago tee, and some dark wash jeans. The blazer and dago tee gave me a "hello i'm lesbian friendly" look so it bothered me that the sketchy random wasn't getting the message. Wearing apparel with pockets were always a priority because I just can't dance with a purse. I'm not one of those girls clenching there bags and holding there drink moving side to side. I need a full range of arm movement. I'm a dancer! I don't want to look like a department shopper swaying side to side.

Back to sketchy random: He kept on bumping into me. What the fuck? I don't care if you are drunk, you aren't supposed to bump into a lady that is getting her groove on unless she invites you, and there was no invitation. I moved away and went for my pocket to check if my phone had a text. Hand in pocket, no phone.

The mother fucker stole it. I knew it was him. The idiot was too stupid to leave. So I decided to get smart on HIS ass.

"Hey Mr, give me my phone back" I said.

"I don't have your phone" he said.

"I need my phone, I know you have it!" I said.

"I DON'T HAVE IT LADY" he said.

I began to examine the man very closely. In the pocket of his jeans I could see the shape and size of my phone. I knew he had it, I just knew. How was I going to get my phone? This is where my background in theater really came handy.

Fake crying with real tears I starred him straight in the eye, "I need my phone more than anything in the world. I can't afford to buy a new one! Please sir I'll do anything to get it back. I'll give you money, I'll buy you drinks the rest of the night! Anything, just please, please give me my phone back.!"

"Buy me a Corona!" and he reached into his pocket and dropped my phone on the floor.

"You got it!" I grabbed my phone and walked towards the bar pulling out my wallet to "buy a drink". The minute I was hidden by a crowd, out the door I ran! Taxi! Taxi!

Luckily there is always more than a few cabs outside Berlin and I hopped into one pronto and was off. Leaving my friends behind was no problem because I was able to text them what had happened. Safe in a cab, almost home, and with my phone. What an exciting night!

I fucking love donuts.

An only child, I surprisingly loved to share. I would invite friends over and perform for them, make them watch my ice skating shows on the television, give them a makeover, and give them some of my many things. I had lots of things. As an only child, my social skills weren't the best but my claim to entertain and please always worked for me. I am still improving my social skills to this day. I never had a big sister or brother to say, "Hillary, shut up!" so I never knew that sometimes I should stay quiet. I was very annoying and always very hyper. But with a huge heart and sensitive soul it somehow balanced my downfalls. I'm also extremely talented and creative so people always like that.

One thing I don't like is my inability to say no to a donut. I think my passion for eating everything and anything all the time roots down to my health nut Mom who weighed her food and mine, had my cholesterol tested when I was four, and fed me rice cakes with sugar free peanut butter while all the other kids got Doritos and PB and Fluff sandwiches on spongy delicious white bread. I felt screwed always. So when the opportunity arose for some unhealthy and delicious treats, I jumped on it.

Sally had a birthday in 2nd grade. She brought Dunkin Donuts for each child in our class. Hell yes! The best day ever. I was so happy that Sally was born. Mmm... donuts.

In an attempt to be patient, I eyed the teacher passing the donuts out. I thought "that's not fair that she is starting with that side of the classroom! by the time it gets to me, i won't get the one i want!" Slightly upset with no impulse control I announced "I want a strawberry one please!" If I wasn't to speak up, I would have watched my beautifully bright and colorful flamingo pink donut be handed to another classmate. I was protecting my assets by announcing them as mine. Also I thought it was helpful that my fellow classmates knew I really wanted that one so they would feel guilty choosing it before me. I'm so smart.

My heartbeat relaxed a little after I verbally claimed the donut, but it was still not in my mouth. She finally got to me, and the perfect flamingo pink strawberry donut was in my chubby fingers. Life was great.

Within a few seconds, the donut was devoured and an empty napkin with crumbs was left on my desk. Dammit, I want more! I want more!

Another classmate of mine hardly even seemed to care that there was a beautiful chocolate long john sitting on her desk. How could she not appreciate the beauty that sat before her? She must be crazy! So the minute she looked away, I snatched it and shoved it in my mouth.

Luckily there was a few extras so she was still able to enjoy our class treat. I probably would have kept this Donut Dialogue as top secret if she had been left with no donut to have. Now that would be even more embarrassing. So for my birthday which is coming up April 1st, please feel free to bring me donuts. My favorites are strawberry, chocolate long johns, cinnamon sugar, and glazed, and the chocolate munchkins.

Forever appreciative, Hillary

Singing Hoosiers!

I went to Indiana University's award winning Music School in Bloomington, Indiana. A fierce mezzo-soprano vocal performance major, I participated in a high energy collegiate show choir "The Singing Hoosiers" where we would sing our hearts out and dance our asses off to hear applause and get an adrenaline rush. My college experience seems much more like a reality television show then real life because I was surrounded by incredibly talented, super social, highly dramatic, and energetic performers all the time for 4 years straight. No wonder why life feels so boring now.

As a tradition, the Singing Hoosiers would participate in road shows throughout Indiana and out of state. We went on a West Coast tour, performing for crowds in Colorado, LA, Santa Barbara, and San Francisco. We visited every boring town of Indiana too. But nothing was boring with this crowd. Hotels, buses, and airfare were paid for, and a per diem was given on top of the free travel. Most audiences consisted of appreciative alumni or high school students who wanted to be us one day. It was always a wonderful ego boosting experience.

Every few weeks a performance was booked and delivered. Spreading sunshine and the gift of great music and dance to many human beings was the life! Every trip had greater expectations and awaited excitement. New soloists, new numbers to be performed, partying to take place, and another chance to have the time of your life. I can't really explain what it's like to participate in a show choir, but for all of you out there that have, it was like your experience on steroids and cocaine. That was the Singing Hoosiers, not really on cocaine or steroids (well maybe some) but just a crazy high energy group of talented drama queen divas.

Fierce.

While all memories from the Singing Hoosiers are cherished, I must write about one in particular: Our trip to South Bend, Indiana. I have to be quite honest to say I don't remember much from the actual performance, but I do remember a lot about the evening following it. We had to stay in a convent affiliated with Notre Dame with no responsible adult supervision. So what happens when you put a bunch of gay men, pretty ladies and a handful of straight men that like to party in a very vacant and spooky convent? Pure chaos.

A few broke into the parish church attached to the convent, some locked their doors and got it on. Others downed liquor and played card games. With every beer finished there was more noise and drama to be seen. Boys kissing boys, girls kissing girls, boys kissing girls, gay boys running with crosses, Britney Spears tunes belted a cappella with full choreography, and seances conducted. Outside smoking a cigarette we were visited by an angry police officer. "No Mr. Police Officer! No one is drinking, we are just a loud group of musical theatre kids. You can go home." And he did.

Hallelujah baby. Hallelujah.