Absolute Occurrence is Irrelevant

Remember when we were little?

You liked baseball. I tried to play, because you told me thats what everyone played. I trusted you. I thought it was something that I was going to learn to like. But then I got older, and I went to school. I made friends, I had sleep overs, and playdates. My friends didn't play baseball. I watched closer, because that didn't make sense. Why did you tell me something, that nobody else seemed to believe was true.

I decided to quit baseball. You didn't like that. You took a bat and hit me hard on the hip. Hard enough for me to feel, but in a place no one could see. I played for another week. I said to you again, that I didn't like baseball. The pony tail you put in my hair for the game that night, ripped a chunk of hair out. I played another week. I'd quit. You'd "convince" me to play another week. Till one day I walked out to the pichers mound and screamed

"I DON'T LIKE BASEBALL! I DON'T WANT TO PLAY ANYMORE

I haven't played since.

Do you remember a few years ago?

You liked basketball. You have no idea that I liked it to. You'd play for hours, and I'd sit on the side lines. During your warm up, sometimes I'd come and shoot the ball. You never passed the ball to me. I waited patiently. I continued to practice, because one day you'd notice. We'd talk on our drives to the gym, and one day I told you "hey, I'm pretty good at basketball too." You looked at me, looked forward, and the next day picked up golfing.

And here we are today...

You're a swimmer. All you talk about is swimming. How I need to swim, how swimming is the only sport you can remember, how freeing it is. I look at the pool, and I don't trust it. I remember the times I've chocked on water, when I've needed water and couldn't find any, when I've trusted water and it turned out to be tainted.

But I walk catiously to the pool. I nervously extend my foot over the edge and emerse my toes. I bring my foot back out, still unsure if I want to swim. Or if I can. With you in the pool, constantly reasuring me of it's wonders, I slowly sit down. Putting my feet completely in, I realize the water is colder than what you described. I decide not to point that out, because part of me likes it. I begin to swirl my legs, almost splashing in the water. You keep telling me to get in. I remind you, look, my feet are in. You get mad at me, saying I need to swim, that I'm not swimming. I look at you and hiss "I'll get in when I'm ready." Irritated, I start to stand up.

You grab my arm and pull me in.

I wasn't ready to get in. I told you that. The water fills my lungs and stings my eyes, as I panic to climb to the surface. I kick to the edge. I desperately scramble to to climb out of the pool. My hair and clothes now soaked with freezing cold water. I continue to cough up the water that filled my lungs. My eyes are stinging and my throat is rough. You stand there in the pool, looking at me confused, you don't seem to understand why I don't want to swim.

Looking at you, my eyes thin into a glare. I bit my lower lip, while ringing out my shirt. Locking eye contact I fight back the urge to show you the bruise, the one that's still on my hip. Or the bald spot, on the back of my head. I fight the urge to scream, that I don't like swimming.

So I grab my coat and walk away.

idunno

So. I'm finally at that age.

The age I can remember other people reaching.

My aunts, dance teachers, young women leaders, and brother's friends.

The age that, while I was growing up, everyone "here" seemed to know.

Know exactly where they were going.

Know exactly what they were doing.

Know exactly who they were.

~

Where everyone was

Moving out.

was/getting married

Graduating College

Starting their career

Having Children

Starting their own "families"

Staring in their own world.

~ I remember being younger.

Saying I wish I was that age.

I wish I was there.

If only I were done with this "stage"

~ Everyone told me to stop.

Not to wish my life away.

That I would miss those years.

That I would long to have them back, When really they should have said

"Hillary, I have no idea what the freak I'm doing"

~

Or did they?

Did they all... somehow, have it as

..."figured out"...

As it appeared?

~

People ask me all the time

"What's your major?"

With a smile and fantastic posture I answer

"The Social Science Composite Teaching Major"

...I want to be a teacher...

I want to be a teacher

I love teaching.

(I Think)

~

I get asked that on a regular basis.

I answer it confidently e.v.e.r.y.t.i.m.e.

When really... I'm maybe 77% sure.

(82% on a good day)

(95% if a teacher is complimenting my "skills")

~

So this makes me wonder

Was everyone I talked to just

Mostly Sure Or Pretty Sure

And did they asnwered confidently (like I do)

To avoid

Questions

Confused looks

Not welcomed advice

and incorrect labels

~

So.

To everyone who "has"

how sure were you really?

To everyone who "is"

how sure are you really?

(I finally got my grandfather to admit that school was hard. That sometimes it felt never ending. That once in a while.... he just wanted to quit.

I took a huge sigh of relief while driving home)

May I Have This Dance?

ok.... ok ok ok ok..... OK! I admit it... While I HATE 97% of "Chick Flicks" I'm a hopeless romantic. This is probably one of my all time FAVORITE songs. I can put it on repeat and listen to it for probably an hour, easy. Aren't they wonderful? This song just makes me wanna slow dance in the kitchen. Go ahead.... try and tell me it doesn't do the same to you.

Fur Elise

"... Of course, I am resolved to rise above every obstacle, but how will it be possible? ..."

-Ludwig Van Beethoven

No Known Cure.

...Ladies.... Gentle-Germs.... ...Stalkers... Loyal Fans.... First Time Readers....

I am suffering from something, and there is no known cure... It's called "Build a Clock Syndrome" Or BACS as it's used in the medical world.

I was first diagnosed with it at the tender age of 13. By my Grandmother. Although, I'm sure I showed signs much before then.

Here's what it is.

It starts with a thought, an idea if you will, and before you know it, it's been 15 minutes, in some cases... longer.

Need more explanation?

alright. People who suffer from BACS (Build a Clock Syndrome) Suffer from nothing more than a nasty habit.

Ask me "What time is it?" And I'll tell you how to build a clock.

I Basically just really like to tell stories. And... I feel like you need the WHOLE story.

Need Examples? ...Read my blog... Or talk to me for an hour.

Hats.

I have this hat... It's a hat from the late 80's.

It was my grandfathers. . .

Till one day when I was a Jr. in high schoo

l I decided it would be a good idea to bleach my own hair.

Needless to say that didn't turn out well.

Not only did it turn out that my hair looked awful...

that night in a frantic desperate hunt I realized something awful:

I, Hillary Ivie, did not own a single hat.

While it's true, I owned some of the greatest Bennie's you could possibly think of,

I didn't own a single normal hat.

I had never had a bad hair day to the point I needed to cover it up with something.

Let alone a logo'd, off color'd, brimed, thing that made my head hot.

But I needed one that day.

So.

My grandpa gave me one of his old ones.

And to sum up this (back round) story, I love this hat.

I now also own three other hats.

Alright.

ONTO WHY I'M WRITING

A few nights ago I was watching a movie and laughing much harder whenever one character spoke, compared to the others.

Why was that, I wondered.

Why was this character so much funnier,

than the other characters who were cracking just as many jokes.

Then I realized...

he was wearing a hat.

And how not only was HE wearing a hat...

But some of my most favorite characters...

wear hats...

fantastic hats at that.

Even Villains need a good hat

So other than the villain thing, I'm pretty sure due to my exposure of needing a hat to hide a desperately horrid hair do, and how hilarious I thought that situation was in the moment... I believe I'm conditioned to think that:

Hats=Slightly funnier than everyone else.

Because I mean really... if they got so desperate to the point of wearing THAT HAT.... think about how bad what is under that hat is...

That Does Sound Fantastic... and Weird

Last night was the BEST night I've had in an incredibly long time.

It started out terribly.

Here's how my May 27th went.

Work isn't important to this story.

Came home from work around 3:45 pm.

Tried to take a nap.

The neighbor kids were SCREAMING.

Couldn't sleep.

Lied there annoyed beyond belief.

Finally got up.

Ate a half can of peas.

Got excited for summer...

... fresh peas from the garden.

Ended up at the gym.

Ran for an hour.

Then did weights for an hour.

All while watching 16 and Pregnant.

While walking home from the gym,

Made a phone call.

While on the phone, became overly

Frustrated... Annoyed... Scared... Fed-up... Over Whelmed.

Bailed on my original plans. Sorry.

Sat on my bed Looked in the mirror and stressed about life altering choices.

Then... I decided to have a me night. Not a night of self-indulgence.

But simply a night to calm down.

So me nights actually take alot thought

And... have very strict rules.

(Here is where my night becomes good)

Rule #1 You have to feel pretty. For me this is always Freshly washed face Freshly brushed teeth Well nourished hair and.... cute underwear.

In order to accomplish this... I spend an hour and a half soaking

Not just any kind of bath...

All Lights off.

These instead.

Rule #2 Music Must be Played.

Not just any music though. The Apple Ipod Shuffle option... Is not an option.

Create a playlist.

Fit the mood exactly.

Delicate: Damien Rice

Cold Water: Damien Rice

Accidental Babies: Damien Rice

Wild Horses: Natasha Bedingfield

Amie: Damien Rice

Miserable At Best: Mayday Parade

The Conversation: Motion City Soundtrack

Just Another Old Love Song: Joe Purdy

Pigeon: Jump Little Children

Grey Room: Damien Rice

Don't Call Me Peanut: Bayside

Lullaby: Billy Joel

Little Black Heart: The Early November

Fire and Rain: James Taylor

More Than We Could Chew: Joel Pack

Burn: Ray Lamontagne

Jolene: Ray Lamontagne

Rule #3 Surround with Favorites.

Used favorite shampoo.

Used favorite tooth paste.

Wore favorite sweat pants.

and... underwear

Went to favorite convenient store (7-Eleven)

bought favorite treats:

&

Rule #4 Sleep

Sleep Like you do at the end of yoga.

Breathing.

Eye lids s.l.o.w.l.y. getting heavier.

Rule #5 Think. Constantly.

This... Will be it's own post.

Later.