On to the next project...

This is the wedding scene from the play I just finished called 'The Pastor'. It turned out to be a really incredible show. I'm just sad its over cause now it seems I have nothing to do. And I just love theater, so I'd love to be on stage almost every day(not possible. I know this).

So on to my next project. This project is called KC Superstar. Tomorrow I meet with our vocal coach and he is going to help me pick my song. Not sure what to expect so this should be interesting. Then will come our various dance and vocal rehearsals. And ultimately we'll compete for finals on August 28th in Yardley Hall at JCCC. I'm pretty pumped and nervous for that day. So anyway, that's my next project. Besides that and 2 trips I'm going to keep this summer pretty simple. I think that's all I'll be able to handle. And who knows about school in the fall. Somanydecisions.
Also, if you haven't seen Green Lantern, it's good. Ryan Reynolds too. Gooood.

A tribute to my father: Matthew McGraw

His and my journey had just begun. I guess it wasn't meant to be. He changed my life. THIS has changed my life. I will never forget him. I love and miss you, dad. Goodbye.

Why should I dream...

Even as I cringe, and crawl
to the pit of despair,
I know it is wrong
and yet, I do not care.
The horror awaits me,
and I am left to face me.

How can I hope to understand. First, how can I hope? And why should I? It is but a night, and tomorrow the sun will spring up and wash away all the sorrows that drench the earth this very night.
Why does one sit in the darkness? To wait, and wait. A red eye piercing my heart from across the room. When I turn on the light, it is only the light from my tv. Turn off the light, and it begins to frighten me. The wind tears through the trees outside, and a slight tap tap tap as the rain smacks the pavement. And yet I still wait for you...in the darkness...frozen.
Death...it is cold, and soft. Awakening from someone else's dream, in to my very own. Forever.
There is no difference, only the transition between life and death. And then life starts all over again.
Why must I be insightful, and knowledgeable. If life is really so desperate and destructive why do we fight it? Because we hate the pain. Or do we?
I come off a high sometimes. Not a drug high, not an emotional high, but a high of getting the tasks appointed to me done on time and in time. Then I crash and question myself. Who am I? Why am I?
Compassion? Mercy? Kindness? Where do they exist in this world? Anywhere? If I can not even give them to the person I love, than to who? And who will give them to me? I'm TIRED of being strong. I'm tired...

It's been raining a long time now...

I never want to speak again.

I never write anything worth reading. Everything I write is what's inside my head, my opinion of things, my thoughts, my feelings. I didn't sit at the computer and carefully think and plan what I was going to say. I just...write it. I can make up stories. I used to write all kinds of stories when I was little. Some that were true and some that I made up.
I don't really remember having really awesome aspirations when i was younger. I wanted to be a veterinarian, I still kind of do actually. I always thought I'd make a good writer...but there are much better writers out there than I will ever be.
I played a lot of pretend when I was little. Constantly. It was like an escape. Probably an escape from wondering if my dad will come back to visit me. Or why he always went away. I was too little to understand any of what I was feeling. To this day I still feel too immature to handle what I feel sometimes.
I'd write notes on facebook, or on xanga(if we wanna go wayyyy back). People would never really say much. If anything. Oh gosh, I'm not looking for a pat on the back or admiration or "Wow Rachael, you are such an elegant writer. Keep it up!". I mean really, why would I want people to do that. Anyway, it just seemed it wasn't for me. Yet sometimes I would read others notes and people are commenting crazy hardcore about how amazing they are and I'm reading this note and thinking, "Um. Whats the big deal?". Everyone has an opinion I guess. Seems like the more you talk about God in a note the more comments you get? Just a guess.
I like poetry. Deep, dark, passionate poetry. I also like a good story. Something encouraging and a none 'the Bible says this and that kind of way and however you're feeling is wrong and you need to choose to not feel that way' kind of thing. Can you tell I'm speaking from experience?
Perhaps I'm too blunt, and too real.
It's just hard to be the bad guy all the time. To be the oddball of the group. To get the blame because you look like you can take crap. I'm sure you can guess I am not the type of person people look up to and admire in a social group. I always wanted to be though. I always wanted to be a great many things...

Want to know where I'm at tonight? I'm sitting on my bed, typing, a blanket wrapped around me, watery eyes, looking at my phone every minute, knowing I am nothing significant, and afraid to go to sleep. No list of things I want to accomplish, no great plans for tomorrow, no good feeling I'm doing anything right. No, no. It's just me sitting here wanting to never speak again. I know I have a voice, it just feels like no one wants to hear it.

To understand.

Is it so hard to understand someone? Sometimes...sometimes I just don't. Sometimes I am not understood. When both things happen simultaneously, I feel like throwing my hands in the air and repeating the word 'cuss' over and over.
It's the night before my last two finals. Its the night after a long fun day outside. Its the night where I lay here wondering if I got hit by a train because my body hurts so bad. Its the night where I don't understand and am not understood.
Do I analyze too much? Maybe some things are better off not being looked at too closely. Maybe some things we should look at closely, but have never really given it a thought.
Most of the time I find things don't make sense. Not to me anyway. I feel like a child sometimes going about life thinking I need to get my act together. Sometimes I feel I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. Like somehow I'm not fit to live anymore, or be anything.
Why are people so quick to tell you exactly what you've done to them, but in return don't want to talk about what they did to you. Leaving everything to be your fault and them blameless. What if we first asked what we had done to hurt them? What if we were willing to give second chances and trust someone again completely? What if little unimportant things didn't bother us and we left more things up to God instead of to ourselves? What if we just waited to see what happened? What if...
To understand and to say you understand to someone and really mean it is like...taking a huge rock off someones back. Like by understanding, they now feel able to breath again.
To be understood, is like someone telling you they love you and picking you up on your feet, and walking hand in hand with you.
It feels good to understand, and to be understood. I wish I could feel that right now.

Of broken hearts and twisted minds.

I'm winding down from today. I'm processing. I'm trying to understand.

I never know what to say or do, though I've been through this many times. Why am I always struggling to find words, or a touch? Probably because there are no words...
I hold my breath without realizing it. Then every five minutes or so I take a deep breath and everyone wonders if I'm about to start gasping. I just forget to breathe.
I sit there, stopping every few minutes and watch unfamiliar faces mesh with a familiar face. I see the same thing happen over and over. Hug, say the same thing as everyone else, talk, and we begin walking again. Finally we sit down, I still remain quiet. I watch people walk down the aisle, and walk back in tears and blank faces. So many people have come...
I hold his hand, trying to provide some type of comfort or security. The lights dim. My hand is being squeezed and I can feel my own heart beat. A man walks to the stage and begins to speak. He talks for only a short while, and music begins and pictures begin to flash across the screen. Pictures of someones life. The life of this person looks nice and well and happy. I wonder what went wrong. The pictures end and the man comes back on stage to speak again. I watch closely, but my attention is not on the man speaking. My mind is far off somewhere else. The man ends his speech, and tells us we are going downstairs. The lights come back on, people begin to move. I remain frozen. I'm still holding his hand; his breathing becomes heavy and unstable. I look over and he's staring straight ahead. I look away and hold his hand tighter while placing my other hand on to his. I listening to his breathing and realizing there are tears falling from his eyes. I'm not sure what to do. Should I hold him? Should I tell him it's going to be ok? Should I let him have it out and be down with it? What does he want? So I squeeze his hand a little tighter. Someone comes and hugs him and he starts to let it all out. I stare straight ahead. I put my arms around him, someone else hugs him. He gets up and yet another person hugs him, and another. I begin to feel the hot tears fall from my face. I look down at my legs and watch the tears(still running) fall from my leg. My mom comes and rubs my back and then she gets up to leave. I feel useless sitting here crying for no reason and being no comfort. I get up and walk to the end of the pews and sit, and cry and wait.
The last thing I wanted to see was someone so close to me start to sob. It breaks my heart. I should of braced myself. I knew it was going to happen. The entire event broke my heart. My mind is in overdrive. My heart is worn. I feel entirely helpless.
I end my story here.
The day in itself was, pleasant, heartbreaking, horrible, fine, confusing, hard, fun. Who even knows...I will tell you, I do not.
There. I said it. I wrote it all out, for you to read if you want. I can not control everything, nor do I want to.
"There is no such thing as a normal life. There's just life."

Where death is just a memory...

Lets rewind. Go back a week, or two. Where everything was fine, at least, it seemed fine. The world hadn't caved in at that point...not yet anyway. Isn't it crazy how instantly the world can fall apart and how long it takes to put the world back together again...a new world...a new normal. One action, one word, one choice, one thought, one emotion, can make someones world come crashing down. And then it takes years to build it again...sometimes less depending on the person.
Won't it be great, when we can one day look back on death as a memory? Something that once was, but will never be again? Oh yeah, death, I remember when that used to happen.
Instead of looking back on our loved ones...our friends and family as memories, precious pieces of our lives that once were and will not be again in this life...maybe ever. I wish we could make the exchange now...death for life. It will not be so in this life...

So we, eventually, accept our new lives without them(whoever they may be) and we carry on, through the pain(not around it), through the memories, and tears and anger. Keep in mind that one day death and pain and tears will all be a memory. The empty spaces will be filled. The tattered and worn edges around the heart will be mended. No more worry, no more fears. Sleep at last, peaceful dreams, and perfect love...