Growing Up In A Grown Up World:

I feel like I see a trend happening in the culture these days, everyone loves the idea of being independent and free, yet the 20 somethings in my world don't seem to have the ability to be adults. Everyone wants that American Dream right? Some work hard through high school to get to college, hopefully get a good job and be able to get the things that will make them happy. Others go straight to work right after high school getting experience and biding time until they get a job that can support them to make good money and be able to get the things that will make them happy. Recently I purchase a house. So many people commended me for being so young and responsible. When I hear that I cringe. Because it's not my age, I know that for a fact. My sister when they got their first house she was about my age. Shit, my best friend was married at 21, and had a house by 23. She's been married 5 years and although they have waited to have kids, they are investing in their future together. My age isn't the reason people say I'm responsible. Its because I'm single. 24 (almost 25) no boyfriend in sight and I purchased my first house like a real adult. I think I slightly thought thats what I was doing. Growing up, becoming an adult, purchasing my own home... But in reality, I don't act older, I just have to cut my grass once a week and make sure I pay bills on time. SO MANY FUCKING BILLS. What I have realized is rather then our culture thinking of an 18 year old (no matter their living situation) as an adult, the age is slowly getting pushed later and later. I don't want to blame it on the baby boomer generation. But lets be honest, if you are in the 20-30 age range, your parents are probably baby boomers. They are a huge ass part of our country, and they looking at anyone their kids age, as kids. At least until they get married, get a "real" job, or get a permanent living situation. They have these unmentioned markers that must happen in our lives for us to really get in the secret "adult club". No I'm not talking about something sexual, cause God knows 12 year olds are probably having sex now a days. But it's an unspoken right of passage. And to that, I just want to say, BULL SHIT! After purchasing my house the only thing it did was make me more busy. I have more work when I get off work then I ever had living in an apartment, or with roommates in a house. I believe that what I am doing is a good thing. I know this house purchase was a wise thing for me to do. But, in no way did buying a house make me an adult. Adult when looked up online is defined as this: a person who is fully grown or developed. I'm sorry, but there are several reasons why this definition is flawed. First off, if its based on when you are fully developed does this mean mind, and body at the same time? If so, as you get older and your memory goes, wouldn't that mean you are no longer an adult? second, many humans start to go down hill as soon at they hit college. Drinking, late night studying, a more sedentary life style, suddenly having the munchies more often, all play a factor in the human physique going to shit. So again, wouldn't that mean seniors in high school/18 year olds would be some of the only adults in this world? Third, I personally don't believe that one human on this earth would say they have fully developed who they want to be, ever. To say that in any capacity would be saying that you are better, wiser or more accomplished then any other human being in this world. So this is the only point I want to make. No matter how old you are, or how responsible you might be, don't let other peoples options change who you are inside. And on a less serious note, here are some quotes to make you realize being an "adult" means being anything you ever imagined it being! I'm not sure I'm adult yet. Johnny Depp Sometimes I think that the one thing I love most about being an adult is the right to buy candy whenever and wherever I want. Ryan Gosling Adults are just outdated children. Dr. Seuss You're dead if you aim only for kids. Adults are only kids grown up, anyway. Walt Disney Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race. H. G. Wells

Poring The Peroxide

I love cheeky titles. I have always been a title person. A book or article could be terrible, but if the title was able to suck me in, I will still finish (or at least skim) the entire thing. The things I take pride in might sound stupid, but I am proud of this title. For the first time in a while I feel the need, desire, and passion to start writing again. This title is the imagine I have held in my mind for the past few weeks. Poring the peroxide; it sounds simple enough. But everyone knows the pain, twitching, wincing and occasional itching that happens when trying to clean and heal a wound.  This is the process I am going though.

For the last nine months I could physically feel myself drifting away from God, rather than clinging to Him during my time of need. I ran so far away, so far that I felt the belly of a whale might actually end up being my home. I know it was my fault. God’s love did not change, the fact that He died for all of my sins (past, present and future) did not change, God promised “He will never leave me, or forsake me” and that did not change; yet somehow I woke up about a month ago, and realized I wanted nothing more than to be His daughter again. He felt like a distant memory, and I knew it was MY fault.

Pain: So then it started, my strive to fix it. I put on all my necessary tools, and some unnecessary ones and went to work. The pain, I mean it started right away, guilt, disgust, fear of rejection. Basically I was alone, now more than ever. I started to cut myself off from the junk, which meant a lot of people that weren’t really bad, as much as not motivated in the same way I was. I didn’t want to turn to people who were “Good” with God, because I didn’t want anyone to see me weak or vulnerable. Rarely do people see me cry, so why would I let them know I wasn’t as “good” of a Christian as they are.

I sat in my pain for a long time. Almost the entire month. I mean I did what I could. I changed my hair, I started eating healthier and working, I recently had bought a house and I focused my attention some of the bigger projects my fixer upper needed done (hoping to calm my mind and feel accomplished). But everything fell short. My hair went from a bright pink/purple to almost a grey blonde (and I’m a natural brunet), I am still working out but my garden has yet to get a tomatoes on it and all my beans died, and minus the kitchen I started feeling the strain of money as nothing else has been updated in the house since I purchased it.

So as I was driving alone in the car one day yelling at God because “NOTHING I AM DOING SEEMS TO BE BRINGING TO CLOSER TO WHERE I WAS BEFORE!” It hit me, not literally, but it felt like it. One of my favorite women in my life always would ask me “What’s the subject of that sentence?” and that’s what popped into my head.  I realized; my subject, my focus, my desire, was ME. I wanted to be better, I wanted to feel loved, I wanted to be accepted, I wanted comfort. And then began the twitching.

Twitching: Twitching is defined as- “Involuntary contractions of groups of muscle fibers. Also known as fasciculation. Fasciculation can occur in normal individual without an associated disease or condition and can also occur as a result of illness.“ (Web M.D.) Although I was in complete control of my body, my mind felt like it was twitching. Every second was a fight between focusing on myself, and focusing my attention and prayer on God. I wasn’t sure why I was unable to kick this constant want to feed my fleshly desires. Whether it was sleeping in and not going to church, or spending too much money on something pointless, or being too hung-over to be nice to the people around me. I wasn’t doing life right.

I felt a fear of rejection, I had never felt before. I hadn’t even been rejected yet but the fear was so prevalent when I went to walk into a young adults group at a new church I started attending. After convincing myself to get out of the car I cursed the entire way into the building, Literally every other work was s**t, or f**k, or any other bad four letter word. I got 5 steps inside, turned around and went right back to my car. Where I preceded to sit for 15 minutes, smoke two cigarettes and then in shame I left a failure.

*As much as I don’t recommend this during my time of pain I switched churches. The church I grew up in was small and didn’t have a young adult population other then myself and the one married couple that are so adorable it makes me want to puke. And although during the pain and twitching all I did was go on Sunday morning to this new church, it was still a change that I prayed and felt God wanted me to follow through with (I am still a member at my old church, and hope to soon write more on this topic of shopping churches, because believe that God really has to be in it for it to be the right move).

Wincing: to me is when you close your eyes and try to focus on anything but what was causing you pain. It kind of reminds me of the game operation. Or at least the way I played, I was the little kid who would be so careful getting the bone, and once I had a hold of it I closed my eyes and just pulled straight up (that’s why I didn’t become a doctor; you’re welcome). Or maybe the best way to describe it is the few seconds before ripping off the band-aid. You fear the worst, because you don’t know how strong the adhesive is stuck to your skin, so you build it up in your mind. I winced, twice actually. The first time was at the young adults group, I decided it was best to leave the band-aid on. I was so not ready to be uncomfortable, just the thought of it was enough for me to physically leave where I was and run to where I was comfortable, hidden, protected. The second time wasn’t as easy.

I started searching for answers to why I had winced. I was the girl who never ran from something she was afraid of. I was more likely to lie and be in inner turmoil then ever show the weakness or fear. I turned to one friend, probably one of the strongest Christian men I know. He strives for God and is so humble in his relationship with God is amazing. He is struggling right now as well and it seems that God always lets us go through similar things at the same time (maybe it’s a theme in Christianity today), but he was seeking truth. He said he was going back to the basics, so that’s what I decided I would do, prayer, scripture, and time with God.

The first verse I read, 1 John 1:9 “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” I was all for it, tell God what I did wrong (He already knew) and then I would feel better. But the next day I read James 5:16 and it put it in a different light “Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.”

Woah… that was a jaw dropper. Confessing to God who, in my head, already knew it all. That was one thing. But to confess to another person, the wincing came back. I had never confessed anything on purpose to anyone except God. 

Confession. When did that become a thing Lord, when did you decided I needed to confess?

 I asked so many questions, knowing all the answers as soon as I asked, God wanted my repentance. He knew my heart. He knew that there was no fear in telling Him, I trusted Him. I felt less likely to be judge by Him. He had forgiven David for adultery and Paul for the mass killing of Christians before he was saved. Surely God would forgive me. But another Christian. That was the root of the fear. I think I knew all along I had been without my main accountability. But that wasn’t an issue because there was no one at my old church who was my age. I knew if I went I would feel guilt, I knew this day was coming and that’s why I ran. Fear of confession.

The wincing felt fast, but also gut wrenching, I was happy to have my answer but it wasn’t over yet.

Itching- It honestly felt I wanted to pull my hair out. I knew what the issue was, I knew how to fix it, but now, now I have to actually do it. I have to tell someone, who knows me, who is human. Who judges just like everyone else does. I have to confess my sins. The fear in that moment almost caused me to back pedal, but I didn’t, I followed through.

I’m not saying I’m back to where I was, but I laughed more than normal last night.

I felt joy when I woke up this morning.

I knew no matter what, God would be doing life with me today.

I confessed, and I was healed.

I know I am a wordy person, probably more than most. So I won’t go on much longer. During this process I heard something beautiful, that although was being said to someone else, I thank God He allowed me to be present to hear it.

“If left on our own, we will get shipwrecked every time”

I pray as God heals you, no matter how painful, whether you twitch, wince, itch, or anything else He might do to get your attention and bring you back to Him; do it. And make sure you have someone to talk to you as it happens.

It’s worth it all.

Dear Old Friend;

Sorry it's been hard to communicate recently. Getting ahold of me can be challenging. Things have been crazy, and for some reason I seem to think it's easier to just not fill people in, rather than having to re-explain everything. It might not be right, but it's where I'm at. 

I have talk to a few guys recently and you honestly wouldn't like most of them. I mean I could tell you about them, but you are married and living life with your significant other. Don't get me wrong, I'm so happy for you. I'm just not in that place and I don't think I will be for a long time. 

Thank you for understanding. I know it's not easy for you to know that we just can't be the same friends we were, but at least we are moving forward somehow. It's been a long week, and that's why I am currently writings this. Since I haven't talked to you in a while I don't know how to tell you I need your help. Do you want me to just call? Or is that to formal? I don't want to worry you, but at the same time I don't know if you would even answer me.

I guess texting could work, but if honestly I would much rather see you face to face. Too bad you live twelve hours away. I mean if I left now I could be there for an early morning smoke with a cup of coffee :) I know you stopped smoking cigarettes, but maybe you could an exception for just this once (well maybe your wife would let you). 

Love,

-your forever smoking friend 

Thinking small: living in a little town.

This summer has been full of exciting new places. One not so new place I visited this summer was, Scranton PA. This picture is specifically of Peckville, PA right in the burbs of Scranton. This is a small town that has been a part of my life since I was born. 

It's my mothers hometown. It's a coal mining town that was settled by the italian, polish, and Irish immigrants. My italian ancestors came on the boat into New York City and settled here about 120 to 150 years ago. 

This town for me, has always been so much more to be then just another small drive through town in Pennsylvania. But if you ever do drive through it, take some time and look as the names of the businesses. They are family owned and run for decades. It's what America is all about. It's the American dream staring you in the face as you drive through this small little town. I am not sure how to describe it, maybe it's innocents, maybe it's charm, or even the rich history or these immigrant families. All I know for sure is it is definitely unique. 

And if you do decide to stop, make sure it's at Colarusso's Pizza in Jessup PA, you will not be disappointed.

happy hunting, 

Hillary

Small Town America

I am currently in the middle of a art series I have labeled "Small Town America". 

Small towns in America to me have this romantic feeling to them. There is so much history and beauty surrounding them. I am currently leaving Scranton, PA and headed towards Boston, MA. In my travels I am stopping in some towns that the Huffington Post has labeled  "The Real Life Stars Hollow". The show Gilmore Girls made this fictional town based in Connecticut called Stars Hollow. In the show they depicts both the good and bad sides to life in small town.  

It has always been a desire of mine to live, or at least visit several towns that encapsulate this small town feel. There is so much beauty in this country and I hope to capture that in both my writing and sketches of these towns. 

So as I travel the east coast I hope to show you a piece of our country many people by pass. I hope my posts inspire people to slow down, get off the highway, and enjoy the beauty found in a small town. 

Happy hunting! 

Here is a link to the post I referenced earlier. http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/5570924 

If you know if a must see town please comment! I am always up for a road trip! 

Hillary. 

Red. White. And Baby pools.

It's officially the 4th of July. 

That means 238 years ago the United States of America declared their independence from Great Britain.

 

In 2014, today doesn't just mean independence, it means pride. It means family. It means great food. And for my family it means that my sister and her husband have been married 11 years!

Every year we do something that revolves around our family being together. So today we are celebrating in our own unique way. We will have people over, eat some great food, drink some great beer, and set off some great fireworks like everyone other family in this great country. But this year we are requiring people to B.Y.O.B.P. (We will supply the ice).

BRING YOUR OWN BABY POOL

Tomorrow will consist of mainly 23 to 32 year old people, all drinking beer, and hanging out in baby pools. I know it seems crazy but I cannot help but adore the family I am blessed with. These fun, crazy, individuals that just love having a good time. 

So while the rest of the world goes to their firework events or family reunions we will be having our first (and hopefully annual) Red, White, and Baby Pool Party.

Happy 4th of July, I hope this year you get to eat some great food, drink some great beer, and enjoy the outdoors in whatever way seems fitting for you. 

Happy Birthday America 🇺🇸 I am proud to call you my home! 

"This is the new year...

And I don't feel any different" -death can for cutie. 

Let me be the first to say happy 2014!

Last night I went downtown to experience something a little different then, the normal house party that I am used to. It's funny, I went with friends, and with no intention of kissing anyone at on New Years (which I thankfully didn't kiss anyone). But the pickings were slim... almost everyone was there with a date, and those that were not on a date were on the prowel. It was like the last desperate attempt to "get that special someone" (or the ass/slut who was also alone). Also I decided guys are getting uglier... Haha. Anyways by 11:30 we split from the bar and headed to the square for New Years. That was much more my pace. Those are real people, they weren't drinking themselves into the New Year (and even if they were, they were with family). Instead they were surrounded by family and friends, real people, not wearing heels and mini skirts, but instead sneakers and jeans. 

It made me realize that even though I still wasn't doing what I was used to for New Years I liked that a lot more then the shallow scene of drinking until I blackout or throw up. 

So happy New Year, here is to all those hungover people, the ones that woke up next to people they don't know, and the ones who won't remember where they were when the ball dropped. I hope your first morning is not a foreshadowing for what your year will be like. 

Cheers.