Death on my mind

A long time ago, somebody said (behind my back) that I shouldn't have a blog because I'm not a real writer. And they're right. I'm not. But I write anyway. And a tiny part of me dusts my shoulder off each time I post something, as if my small and trivial collection of thoughts actually proves something to somebody.

It doesn't.

Because none of that even matters. At all. Ever.

But do you know what does matter? 

Life. Love. Death.

My thoughts have been consumed by death over the last four days. I have a friend, Houston, who just passed away from a rare and aggressive form of Leukemia. He was diagnosed in the summer of 2013, and I moved out of the state shortly after and haven't seen him since. For a year and a half, he battled and pushed forward with an attitude of faith and trust unlike any I had ever seen. His strength and courage was a sight to behold, and something one could only hope to aspire to by the end of life. He was 30 years old and a passionate, wonderful person to be around. But I sit here, night after night, trying to wrap my head around the whole thing, and I'm not sure what it is that I can't come to terms with. Perhaps it is the fact that he was taken away at such a young age, and didn't have a choice. Maybe it's the fact that he was forced to leave behind a beautiful, strong 26 year old wife, now widow.

I don't mean to make this about me, because it isn't. But I don't know how else to comprehend or understand without associating it with myself. I believe strongly in a Heavenly Being who watches and guides us. What's more, is I believe He loves us more than I will EVER be able to understand or comprehend. I also believe that we are not the sole authors of our lives, and that God writes our stories with us.

And that's where I get a little hung up: we are co-authors of our lives with God? Yes, we have our agency to choose where we go, what we do, how we live, and who we become. But as we write our story, God is writing too--throwing out suggestions, shifting paths, helping guide us toward and away from things we may or may not need. But what about my endings? When do I get to write my own chapters? What if we want to do something different than what God writes for me? What if I don't want to follow the "plan" that he has for me, and decide to do this, or do that, or move there? What about cancer? What about something that we have absolutely no control over? What happens to our agency when cancer plagues our bodies and ruins our lives, and all we can do is fight as hard as we can with the medical knowledge that we have and simply hope for the best? How much ownership do I have over my own story when cancer is thrown into the mix and I lose all control as to whether I live or die?

I can't dwell on these questions for too long, because I get pretty worked up and end up having a little argument with God. Spoiler: He always wins. He's so patient with me. I come back to Him, time and time again, with the SAME questions, with the SAME problems, the SAME heartache, and He still listens and gives me the answers I need (even though He already has.) Thankfully He'll shake it up a bit and let them come from different sources; this helps me feel like I'm continually growing and learning new things, when in reality, I'm just being reminded of the same old thing. Tonight, my peace/answers came as I read an entry that Houston wrote a year after his diagnoses. Take time to read it. It's worth it.

      "....On May 29th, we received word that my bone marrow was clean and clear of any evidence of leukemia. I am currently in recovery and looking forward to the day when I can say I am cured and all of this is behind me.
      Through all of this, I have learned to believe that we can handle these experiences in one of two ways. We can be angry at God, turn from Him thinking all is lost, and consider this a punishment, or we can turn to Him realizing that every person has to suffer to become something more, and use this trial as an opportunity to learn, grow, and become better people. Happiness comes as we look for the good in the little things, the simple moments, laugh, and show gratitude. In a strange way, these trials brought my family closer together and restored and strengthened old friendships while also creating new ones. I’ve had the opportunity to befriend several other people fighting cancer and I’m in constant awe at how each of them endures their own hardships. I have been extremely blessed to have a wide community of supporters to cheer me on. While I was in the hospital over the summer, I feared that I wouldn’t be alive for this holiday season, that I’d never celebrate my 29th birthday or spend another holiday at home with the people that matter most to me. I am thankful for the ability to taste and enjoy food again after losing my appetite and taste during chemotherapy. I am grateful for family that surrounds me with love and helps keep my mind distracted so it doesn’t wander into the darker “What if?” part of my brain. I am thankful for the doctors and nurses at LDS Hospital who have continued to fight for my life even when it seems that all options have been spent. I am thankful for my anonymous stem-cell donor and for my father who donated his own cells for my second transplant. Because of them, I am still here today.
      I have experienced life's most beautiful moments sitting in tiny hospital rooms. We have met incredible people whom we cannot imagine life without. We are closer than ever with our family and more importantly, we are happy because we choose to be. We are learning to change our perspective on suffering. Heavenly Father uses suffering to help us grow, to help us help others grow, and to help us learn to rely on him. The Atonement is getting to the point where you surrender your will to God’s, and that no matter the outcome you realize it is for the best and is serving some sort of necessary purpose for our salvation. 
     I have learned I can only control so much in my life. I can’t control my cancer but I can control how I eat, sleep, walk, and I can influence my attitude. I’ve learned I need to do the little things to give my body enough strength to fight. I have put my faith into action and hoped that the Grace of the Atonement would fill in the rest. Right now I focus on doing things that bring me joy so I’m not consumed with worry for the future. Working on my first novel is an act of faith because I have to believe that I will live to see it completed and published. I keep telling my body and mind that it has to get better by living like I am going to live. We have seen and experienced so many miracles along this crazy cancerous road. There are too many blessings to count. The Lord has provided Grace. We have seen the direct results from putting our faith in action. 
So the bottom line is this: cancer is scary because mortality is scary. Because I have cancer, I say things like, “I have no idea where I’m going to be a week, a month, or a year from now.” But the truth is, none of us do. Life takes us all by surprise and, even if we are perfectly healthy, accidents and mistakes happen, and our lives can end or be turned upside down without warning. The trick is not to think too much about it, and yet think about it just enough to find out what makes you happiest in life so you can simplify your lifestyle and devote your whole energy and heart to living in the moment, remembering that it is more important to live honorably and selflessly than to merely survive. For what good does it do to survive if you cannot be yourself, if you cannot find happiness pursuing your passions and developing meaningful relationships?
      I used to fear the future. Now I embrace it, no matter what comes. Each day I have survived over the last year has been a blessing. I no longer look at birthdays as a sign of aging, but as a milestone of survival. Hold your loved ones closer, share your talents and gifts more abundantly, and remember to trust that God is in control, and He is the merciful author of our life stories. And I have a feeling He likes stories with happy endings."

I'll be honest: if I were to be diagnosed with cancer and asked to endure the things that Houston and Denise have endured, I don't know if I could do it. I don't know if I would have the faith and courage to leave it all up to God and push through. To be honest, it makes me a little sad to think that that is the position I am in. But I want to be that person. Houston and Denise have taught me that there is no other way to live. I have a lot of work to do if I want to get there, and that's ok. I'll get there. Life isn't fair. It wasn't designed to be. There are so many things I don't understand.....and that's ok. What I do know is that God is on our side. As Houston said:

 "Through all of this, I have learned to believe that we can handle these experiences in one of two ways. We can be angry at God, turn from Him thinking all is lost, and consider this a punishment, or we can turn to Him realizing that every person has to suffer to become something more, and use this trial as an opportunity to learn, grow, and become better people. Happiness comes as we look for the good in the little things, the simple moments, laugh, and show gratitude.....The trick is not to think too much about it, and yet think about it just enough to find out what makes you happiest in life so you can simplify your lifestyle and devote your whole energy and heart to living in the moment, remembering that it is more important to live honorably and selflessly than to merely survive. For what good does it do to survive if you cannot be yourself, if you cannot find happiness pursuing your passions and developing meaningful relationships?"

 If there ever was a man who deserved to live and bless the lives of others, it was Houston. But if there ever was a man that God needed to bring back home for a bigger purpose, it was Houston. God speed, and thank-you for living the way you lived. 

I Am A Failure, and I'm OK With That

**NOTE: Please don't read this post with a voice of pity or sadness. Consider it an honest discussion, with me smiling as I'm saying these things. It's personal, it's honest, but it's a good thing. These are good things. I'm pleased with these things. I also recognize that I am not unique or alone. I did not write to point out great things about myself, nor did I write to gain pity or comments or love or whatever. I just wrote it, and I think it's important to share.**

Growing up is a silly thing. It's an exciting adventure. It's a fun thing. And a painful thing. And really really really really hard thing.

When you're younger, they tell you that you'll have to work hard, but they don't tell you how hard. They tell you that you will have set backs, but they don't tell you what kind. They tell you that you'll have your heart broken, but they don't tell you how broken. And they tell you that you'll learn to overcome, but they don't tell you how to overcome. The thing about growing up is that there is no lesson manual; there are no instructions, and there is no set path. Everybody will grow old and die, but there is no "right way" to grow old, and there is no "right way" to die. It just happens.

I've been living in California for 9 months. Has it been the best 9 months of my life? No, no it has not. Has it held some of the worst times of my life? Perhaps. I've mentioned it before, and I'll say it again: I'm learning a lot out here. I'm learning a lot about being on my own, about being by myself, and about being with myself. I've learned that I like alone time, but I don't like being lonely. I've learned that if you want to make something happen, then you have to do it yourself. I've learned that you can't rely on words, but only actions. I've learned that I have a lot more control than I think. I've learned that I place too much of my worth and value in the hands of other people, specifically people who don't deserve to hold my worth and value. I've learned that I am a very kind person. I've learned that I have a lot of things to offer. I am currently learning that I deserve a LOT more than I thought. I've learned how to triumph over fears and set backs. I've learned how to love without being loved in return. But most importantly, I have learned how to fail.

My English teacher would absolutely die if he read this next sentence. But the dictionary defines "failure" as a lack of success, a falling short. Some similar words include nonfulfillment, defeat, collapse, and inadequacy. I am hesitant to elaborate on what I've learned about failure because what I'm about to say can and will probably be misinterpreted and misunderstood. I know the word "failure" is a relative term, so hear me out.

 Failure isn't something I'm totally familiar with. Despite my incredible ability to be self-depricating, a consistant "lack of success" or a "falling short" hasn't been something I've had a lot of experience with. I am a driven individual, and I've worked hard all my life. However, I don't have many experiences where I tried really hard at something and didn't find a quick success. If I may boast for a second: I was a dancer growing up, often being a featured soloist in my company shows with my choreography being taken and adapted by adult companies at the age of 10. I competed in gymnastics for years. I studied piano for 6 years, and accompanied holiday concerts and shows for the school's high school and Christmas concerts starting in the 4th grade. I began playing basketball in 6th grade, and lettered for 4 years in high school as the team captain, MVP, and making the All-State team. I was granted scholarship and grant money to spend time in Germany on a foreign exchange at age 14. I toured Canada before my senior year of high school in a Variety Show with some of the most talented people I'd ever met, all who were my coaches and mentors as a performer. I was a valedictorian. I performed at DisneyWorld for 5 months. I toured as Lady Macbeth with the Utah Shakespeare Festival. I got my college degree from a great program, have had some invested relationships, performed in countless shows, and I now live in Los Angeles.

The self-depricating side of me would say "Yeah, but look where that's gotten me. Where am I now? It's nothing. I have nothing to show for myself." The healthy side of me would say "LOOK AT ALL THE THINGS YOU'VE DONE! You're great, keep going!" Unfortunately, the self-depricating side of me is a bit more persuasive. However, I don't think that self-deprication is the same thing as failure. And since moving to Los Angeles, "failure" has crept out from its ugly little hole and grabbed onto my face.

This is not to say that I haven't failed before. I have definitely had set-backs in my life; shows I didn't make, jobs I didn't get, people I disappointed, tests I didn't ace, relationships that didn't work out, etc. I've felt a "lack of success" and I've definitely felt a "falling short". But constant failure--actually failing at something time and time again hard. And I'm learning how to do it.

Let me start off with my first major "fail" here in LA. Shortly after moving here, I was cast in a core cabaret show at the cabaret bar Don't Tell Mama's. I'm a great singer: I love to sing, I have a powerful and beautiful voice, and it is a talent I have struggled to develop. I am far from excellent, but I'm good. Now, cabaret's scare me. Standing in front of a microphone, holding a microphone, singing karaoke, or basically anything that involves me singing as Kelly Marie Hennessey instead of a character, is gut-wrenchingly terrifying for me. My stomach turns into knots, my thighs start to burn, my chest begins to tingle and swell, and my throat closes off. I forget how to breath, I forget where to place my voice, and I feel like a small anxiety attack occurs. But I auditioned for this show, I succeeded, and I was determined to go big or go home. Flash forward: the day of the first show arrives, and I get to the bar to warm up and prep. I felt all of my anxious feelings, and I said to myself "Self, don't be a baby. You deserve to be here. You can do this, you will do this, this is your day to overcome."

Well? I didn't overcome. I didn't overcome at all. I was terrible. I got so nervous during my set, that I forgot how to sing. My throat closed off, I didn't hit my high belt notes. I forgot how to breathe. I forgot how to act. I zoned out. I was pitchy. I even started step-touching. You guys: I step-touched during my cabaret. (OMG) My set was terrible. I was the girl on the stage that everybody in the audience felt uncomfortable for and couldn't look at because they felt so bad and awkward for my (I knew this was true when the sassy black man rolled his eyes as I sang.) In short....I failed. I FAILED HARD. I left the cabaret as quick as I could. I didn't say thank-you for the director, I didn't talk to the rest of the cast (whom I had just met that day), I didn't stay for lunch. I walked to my car and I cried. I cried and I cried and I cried and I cried. I called my boyfriend in Utah sand sobbed some more as he told me that I was probably exaggerating and that I should get over it and move on. I drove home and wept some more. The shame that I felt that day was more than any shame I had felt for a very, very long time. I was supposed to sing weekly at that Cabaret, and I never heard from the director again. People would ask if they could come see my show, and I would lie about it because I was so embarrassed. I stopped singing for 5 months.

OBVIOUSLY, I've not shared that story with many people. And it still hurts my heart a little bit each time I think about it. But don't think thoughts like "poor kelly" or "how sad for Kelly" or "look at Kelly, she doesn't know what she's talking about, she should stop writing." Hear me out. I refer to that day as"The Day The World Defeated Me." I failed, and I was defeated.

My next day of defeat came when I unexpectedly lost my first job after a month of employment. It wasn't my fault, and I wasn't a bad employee. The company I worked for couldn't keep their crap together and basically let me go without telling me. Up until this point, I had never lost a job before, and I had definitely never worked for somebody that was incapable of being straight-forward with their employees. "I can't even hold down a job" were my thoughts. "What a failure you are." How was I going to pay my bills? How can I prove to my boyfriend and family that I am not wasting my time? Failure.

Since moving here, my relationship of a few years ended. I loved that man with my whole heart, and though it was a shock, I guess it wasn't a surprise. The details aren't important right now, so much as the fact that I felt that I now had another "failed" relationship under my belt; another long-term relationship with years of blood, sweat, and tears that has resulted in heart break and sadness. "You're such a selfish person. Nobody will stick it through with you because you are too difficult. You are not enough." Then I thought "No, Kelly, you are better than this, you can do this." So I went out. I met a guy. I liked him. Blah blah blah, water under the bridge. A couple months ago, I decided it wasn't for me. Again, failure.

Very recently, I was fired from my current job. I know I was unofficially let go from the other job, but I've never been fired before. Fired?! I don't get fired. That's not a thing that I do. But I was fired over a pretty trivial matter during extenuating circumstances that weren't really my fault. "Great job, Kelly. Your one job was to make this person's life easier, and you got fired because you couldn't do that. You can't even hold down a job. You're not an adult. You won't amount to anything." So I laid in bed for a few days. Then I laid on the beach for a few days, and all I could do was stare at the sky with a blank slate for a brain. "You're a failure."

Isn't this such an uplifting post? Aren't you glad you're reading this?

Hear me out!!

I hope you are understanding what I am trying to say to you: I AM A FAILURE. These are just a few of the personal and not so personal every day experiences that we have. I know I'm not the only one. I know you've got your failures and shames hiding inside you somewhere, and its ok! That's ok! I have failed in a lot of big and small ways, and it's ok.

My failure has always been accompanied by its best friend, "defeat." I was so terrible at the Cabaret show, I decided that my singing was a lost cause and I should stop it altogether; my relationship fell apart, and I swore off men; I lost a job, and contemplated my entire existence and value in life. I've auditioned time and time again with no luck, so I stopped auditioning for a while.

But you see, there is a trick to failing: you have to know how to do it, and I didn't know how. Until now.

Through all of these awful, awful experiences, I have been able to realize something very important: I cannot keep living my life like this. I can not keep allowing my defeat to rule my world. Let me elaborate on my current "failure."

 I currently am training in Improv at the Upright Citizens Brigade here in Los Angeles. And let me tell you something: I am absolutely terrible at improv. It is so foreign to me. I'm not quick enough yet, nor am I good enough to understand all of the dynamics and techniques that take place during the process. But guess what? I keep going back. I keep attending my class, and I keep failing harder and harder. And for some reason, I am suddenly ok with it. It is clear to me that I will not find sudden success through improv. It is something that I will have to invest in to develop. But this time, instead of cowering away and avoiding it all together, I keep going back.

YOU GUYS. THAT'S A HUGE STEP FOR ME.

 I can't tell you how it happened, and I can't tell you exactly when it happened. Maybe it was the prayers, or the temple trips, or the incredible amount of time I've spent by myself, reflecting. But what I CAN tell you that I don't see my lack of success as failures anymore. I don't view my employment situation as a reflection of my inner being. I know that my relationship is not a gage for my worth. I don't think twice about an audition or callback anymore, and though I feel stupid day in and day out in doing improv, I keep coming back for more. I WANT MORE.

That's the difference.

The difference between knowing and not knowing how to fail in life is whether or not you can bounce back for more. I am a failure, but I now know what that really means. And the thing is.........

 ....is that I am a beautiful, smart, and genuine woman....

I have a lot to offer.

I am strong.

I am funny. I am sensitive. I am smart. I am kind. I am thoughtful. I work hard.  I am a whole lot of talented. I am worthwhile. I am enough, and I am ready to bounce.

He Lives In You.

One of my absolute favorite shows in all the land is "The Lion King."

I weep every time. I've only seen it twice, but I weep. WEEP. I'm embarrassed and proud of it at the same time. Rafiki walks out on stage and stars her "NAAAAAAAAAAASAVAAAAANNNIIAIAAAA blah blah blah blah blah blah". And I weep. How can so much talent be pent up into one person? It's unfair, really.

However, this is probably the best song in the whole show. I cry, but for different reasons. That's all I have to say.

Signifying nothing

Shakespeare is a sort of therapy for me. It's a challenging way to disconnect from the world for a brief moment and internalize something from another time. 

And the fascinating thing, is that it's not really from another time. Every story, every sonnet, every work, every rhyme, every concept that he wrote is just as applicable to my life today as it was hundreds of years ago. 

That, to me, is fascinating.

I love Shakespeare. I think his writing is brilliant; his ability to mold words together to create such tangible pictures is astounding, and a hard-found talent in today's authors. I sometimes wonder if he actually knew what he was doing, or if the world just exploded around a lie, and he isn't as smart as we all think him to be.

....

I'd like to think he had some idea of the beauty he was creating. 

Off the top of my head, these are two or three of my favorite things written by him. Maybe I'll sit down and compile them sometime, but this'll do for now:

Sonnet 116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark, 
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 
Within his bending sickle's compass come; 
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
   If this be error and upon me proved,
   I never writ, nor no man ever loved.



That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."--Macbeth


"And though she be but little, she is feirce"--Midsummer Night's Dream

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player

"And if we shall fail? We fail!" 
But screw your courage to the sticking place,
And we'll not fail."--Macbeth

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
   So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
   So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. 

The hours leading up to a shoot are just excruciating for me.

High School Graduation Speech

I was going through some old files and emails, and stumbled upon this draft. This was my valedictorian speech I gave at my high school graduation in 2006. This was emailed to myself a week or so before the graduation, and I know I edited and changed and re-wrote up until the morning of, so I don't think (and HOPE) this is the final copy or draft. I'm a little embarrassed by it, and see so many flaws, repetitions, and things I could have written better, but....it is what it is, and I am grateful to have found at least a draft of it. Writing has never been a huge strength of mine, but that's just fine.

          Today marks the completion of my 15th year at Meridian School. What a journey it has been. As I have been reminiscing and pondering what to say today, I remembered my very first clear memory of this school: It was was the day I left my art drawing in my cubby upstairs in the pre-school room. My mom scolded me for my forgetfulness which would cause me to be late to dance class, so I rushed up the stairs as fast as I could to retrieve my precious artwork. As I wheeled around the corner at the top of the stairs, I saw Mrs. Reeder and Miss Gwen standing in front of the oven. I was terrified to receive a second scolding for forgetting my art, and so I hid behind the plants as to not be seen. Mrs. Reeder was holding Miss Gwen's red hair in her left hand while Miss Gwen, who was now bald, was sitting in the chair in front of her. Through the plants, I carefully watched Mrs. Reeder set down the red hair on the counter, rearrange some flowers on a white sun hat, and place the hat on Miss Gwen's head. Puzzled and scared, I decided to leave my artwork there, and crept back down the stairs. I didn't understand: "Mrs. Reeder already had hair. Why was she taking Miss Gwen's pretty red hair? How did her hair come off like that?" Nine months later, I thought back to that moment of Miss Gwen's bald head as she placed my paper-bowl and card-stock graduation cap on my head; it was my pretend hair, just like Miss Gwen's. 4 months later, Miss Gwen passed away from cancer.
          I have not shared that story with anybody before. In fact, I had forgotten it until just a few weeks ago as I began drafting this speech. This story, or more importantly, the process by which I remember this event underscores what I would like to focus on today: the importance of our stories.
          Storytelling is a crucial component of being human. Humans have a natural ability of verbal communication to teach, explain, share, and recount the details in our lives. According to Reynold Price, author of A Palpable God, “A need to tell and hear stories is essential to the species Homo sapiens—second in necessity apparently after nourishment and before love and shelter. Millions survive without love or home, almost none in silence; the opposite of silence leads quickly to narrative, and the sound of story is the dominant sound of our lives, from the small accounts of our day’s events to the vast incommunicable constructs...”
          It is a bold statement to compare stories to the importance of love, or place them high enough on our hierarchy of needs to rival shelter or food: Love comforts, shelter protects, and without food, we would perish. But without our stories, its almost as if we had never lived. For you, Miss Gwen is given life not because you knew her, but because of a small story I just shared with you. For me, this small story is the only thing that gives her permanence.
          There are countless ways to experience stories, the most obvious being through reading. Here at Meridian, we spend countless hours pouring through stories. And from those stories, I have been able to see my life juxtaposed and compared to these characters: I know that my father is not an ill nylon salesman like Willy Loman; I understand that I am not a creator of a hideous form of like like Dr. Frankenstein, nor do I believe that Raskoinikov murdered my dear friend. But to know these things is not why I picked up the book. It is said that we read to understand who we are and who we are not. Great stories are there to comfort us, to challenge our emotions, and to help us realize "Oh. I didn't know I believed that."

          Luckily, reading is not the only means to experience stories, and the performing arts offers a wide array of storytelling vehicles. In dance, the choreographed routines use emotion and music to bring to life a budding romance, or the loss of a loved one. Artists use color and light to bring forth the pain of heartache or the excitement of springtime. Acting is similar: live theater allows us to explore the life and relationships of another individuals in a more visceral manner for both actor and audience. That is when we truly understand the love of Juliet, the passion of Timoune, or the loyalty of Cordelia.
          However, great danger lies in redundant storytelling--the story of Beauty and the Beast has been performed countless times in countless venues. As we approached opening night few weeks ago, I found myself asking why we do this over and over again: the character is the same, the plot doesn't change, and there is nothing different about it. What possible good can come from a bunch of small high school students stuffing their chests with chest hair to tell a story that's been told time and time again? I discovered that the answer is not found in the story itself, as much as in the process of creation. Recreating stories is absolutely paramount, and Leslie Marmon Silko, author of Ceremony, agrees. Her main character, Tayo, must be healed of his mental and cultural illness by a ceremeny. That ceremony was learning to tell and preserve the important stories and traditions of his tribe.  “Everywhere he looked, he saw a world made of stories, the long ago, time immemorial stories, as old Grandma called them. It was a world alive, always changing and moving; and if you knew where to look, you could see it, sometimes almost imperceptible, like the motion of the stars across the sky.”       

          At Meridian, we are not only expected to explore stories of the past, but we are expected to create and remember our own. My freshmen year was the first year Meridian had ever considered or taken a team to the prestigious High School Competition at the Utah Shakespeare Festival in Cedar City. Now a national competition with hundreds of competing schools from across the nation, we threw together a 13-person drama team and tried our luck. Little did we know what kind of extravagent living we would be enjoying when we reached our motel in Parowan. "The Ace Motel" offered seven luxurious rooms for our enjoyment, and boy, did we enjoy it. For three nights we lived in rooms with carpet samples stitched together for carpet, bugs and mold everywhere, and shower-heads tall enough for Philip Erickson to clear only when he was kneeling. But when the awards ceremony rolled around, our little team swept the competition with a First place in Ensemble Performance, First place in Monologue, and First Place Sweepstakes. Our theater department has grown to over 60 students, and suddenly, that wretched Ace Motel has more meaning to us than we could have imagined.    
          As wonderful as the triumphant and earth-shattering moments are, the mundane in our lives can create even sweeter recollections. Every morning at 7:27, Kellie Higgins and I drove through the Provo Center Street and 9th East intersection on our way to seminary. And every morning, without fail, was an older couple walking together and holding hands. Over the last 9 months, Kellie and I have watched the wife in her jogging suit walk her husband to the corner. When they reached the light, they would give each other a long hug, a small kiss on the cheek, and then part ways. He would cross the street, and she would head back to their apartment. At the exact same moment, they would turn to wave goodbye one last time. Kellie and I don't know this couple, nor will we ever, but it is a small story that the two of us share, and won't be forgotten, along with many other mundane moments of my time at Meridian: I will never forget the sweet and simple moment when Liz willed all of her cool clothes to her younger sister at our Senior Roast, the time little Hootie sang in a concert, showing off his beautiful voice and vibrato, or the times our entire AP German class army-crawled passed Mrs. Shumway's room in order to go to Gandolfo's without being caught. Stories as sad as Miss Gwen, as happy as our Shakespearean success, or as mundane as the couple in the morning are what makes us who we are, and who we can become.
          Class of 2006, we have finally made it to our graduation, the ceremony that is the capstone of our few years together. But in the end, this ceremony in itself is absolutely meaningless. The meaning comes from thee stories and moments behind the ceremony; the stories that have made our lives and our relationships meaningful and personal; the stories that got us sitting in those chairs. I remember listening to a speech were the speaker felt that at this moment he should urge you to achieve momentous things. He said he wasn't going to do that because it was too easy, too empty. I would like to borrow that idea and suggest that the most important thing for you, for Meridian, and for it's community is to remember our stories. Garrison Keiller said "As long as young people love stories I think there is hope for the world. As long as we love stories and the past, there is hope for the future." For each one of our graduating class and our beloved school, we hope for a great future. May we remember that our future is tied to our past, and to our stories. Thank-you. 

    

Bucket List completions!

It's been quite a while since I've posted about this Bucket List of mine. I thought I wanted it to stop at 100, but I think as time goes on I will keep adding to it. I just can't help myself. It's a simple little bucket list... there are some very trivial things on there. I like that. However, I feel the need to maybe update my list a little bit with the things that I have completed. What a crazy couple of years.

#6: Graduate with my BFA

In 2012, I graduated from Brigham Young University with my BFA in Acting (Don't forget that F, it's REALLY important). It took me almost 7 years to do it, but I did it. Aside from my dad, the first Hennessey to graduate from college. Neat.

#30: Be a TA

What kind of bucket list goal is that? I don't know, but I always wanted to. So I did. I TA'd the Advanced Combat class in my program my senior year (the second time around) for David Morgan. That man is CRAZY. I don't have any pictures of this, but I DO have a fun little video that my buddy Jace made for me YEARS ago when I was first training. We had fun filming it, though part of me cringes just a little every time I see it. What a funny little fighter. 

#42: Attend an Ellen Degeneres Show before she retires.

We tried.....we didn't make into the seating, but sat back stage. I'm going again on April 10th. This one will happen soon!

#43: Be recognized by a stranger for a show I was in.

This has happened. And...that's all there is to say about it. It's a pleasant feeling. 

#46: Win something in a contest

I won a scooter! At the very last minute, I took part in a writing contest my old high school was doing. We had to write about our experiences as a student, and how those times changed and shaped our future selves. So I whipped out an essay, got the most votes, and walked away with a scooter. It ended up being a huge headache and I sold it a year later, but I loved it with my whole heart. The picture below is the only one I have accessible at the moment: this was right after I had been hailed out in the middle of the summer. Don't forget to notice how red my forehead was from the pelts that kept hitting me as I drove. Scoot scoot!

#59: Teach somebody who has never heard of Jesus Christ.

It's a really long and crazy story, but when I was 18 and living in Orlando, I ended up out to dinner with this guy named Charlie who I occasionally worked with at Disney. He was a graduate from Duke University in Engineering, and decided he didn't want to be stuck in a job he didn't like, so he performed at Disney with me instead. Isn't that crazy? I'll spare you the details, but he took the discussions from the elders, myself, and a few close friends, and was baptized a while later. We're all on different paths now, but he will remain a very dear friend and very close to my heart. 

Did I mention he was also a Buddhist monk? I know he looks less than thrilled in this picture, but I promise we were/are great friends.

#98: Paint a painting for my house.

I don't think I'm going to cross this one off quite yet, because I haven't started and finished a painting meant JUST for my house. I also am not a painter. At all. But I do paint occasionally, and find it very calming. My older brother and I have this bond over old nintendo games, so I have painted him a few different paintings of old characters of games we used to love and play together. 

#103: Hike the Hollywood sign

3 times! Each time with different people and a completely different route, but always a blast. 

This year, I am going to Camp on the beach (104), travel to Asia (38-Thailand!!) and....maybe sing at Hootie's farewell (28).

Goals. Am I right? 

Websites are for Chumps.

I'm nervous. And excited! But mostly nervous.

What if it's not "good enough?" What if it's "made fun of?"

Who cares.

This is my website. I'm proud of it. And I'm learning to be proud of who and what I do.

http://kellymariehennessey.com/

Alive

Last night, I couldn't sleep. I slept for, maybe, 4 hours before I had to get up early and head off to work. But it was a good thing! I couldn't sleep because I was excited.

I was too excited to sleep. I wanted to work. I wanted to read, I wanted to write, I wanted to sing, I wanted to jump around, I wanted to walk on the beach at night (my new favorite thing). I wanted to be alive.

And it is great. It's great to feel alive. It's great to feel like things aren't crashing and burning. It's great to  meet new people. It's great to feel vulnerable again, and enjoy the vulnerability.  Last night I had dinner with a man and his wife who is one of the screenwriters of the next Star Trek Movie who works closely with JJ Abrahms, and feel like I have some great new friends. This last week I had a very heart-felt conversation with a dear friend from Utah. This week I'm shooting another spec-commercial, and visiting another dear old friend. Today we finished putting the final touches on my website, which I will post about soon. I was brave all day yesterday, and had a lot of wonderful experiences.

Maybe this is what it feels like to live, and not to simply exist. Maybe this is what everybody else feels like on a daily basis.

Hey everybody. I'm alive. I am living.

Today, I feel like this:

Tonight I feel a lot of anger.

At what?

Well, a lot of things.

And I hate it when this happens. I hate feeling this anger overcome me, and all self control slowly leaving my body. I can see it happening:  it's like I am standing outside, watching anger slowly seep in, and any sort of rational thought seep out.

But tonight I am angry. Not in the emo, "I'm so angry at the world, I only wear black and thick eyeliner" way, but more of a...."I don't understand" kind of way. A "what more could I possibly do in order to get it all figured out" and "why is my self worth so affecting by outside factors?" kind of way, with a hint of something....maybe remorse. Maybe indegestion.

Well, as you imagine, there isn't an answer to that.

As a side note, I cut myself shaving in the shower tonight on my left knee, and it was a GOOD ONE. Sheesh. So much blood out of such a tiny slit.

I've started a more regular journal keeping process, and forgot how much I enjoy that. I enjoy writing down my thoughts and experiences, especially positive ones. Tonight was a great night. I had a very touching conversation with a dear friend in town. Tender mercies, ya know?

So here I am, in bed, angry. They say you should never go to bed angry. Well, suck it. I am. And when I wake up tomorrow, it won't be there. Nothing really spurred this anger, so it won't take much for it to leave. Right? right.

I feel proud.

I feel happy, and I feel proud.

This week, I have been very productive. I have worked hard during the day, I have worked hard at night, I have auditioned, I've danced. I've sung, I've played, I've cried, and I've laughed.

The rain is pouring outside my window, and it feels safe.

I like it.

I sing and act. Sometimes.

Over the years, I've done a lot of cool things. I look back and am pretty grateful for the experiences I've had, good and bad. Some of those good experiences include having the chance to perform and do as much theater and acting as I have been able to in the last few years. I don't have clips of all the shows I've done, (though I wish I did), but this is a collection of Musical Theater moments I've had during my time on stage. I'm glad I have something like this to remember them by. Call this a "reel", if you will. Much love to all of you.

a few more

So, I won't be able to post or share all of the pictures I have on facebook because 1) what's the point, and 2) it's super obnoxious. But here are just a few more. Even though I am in California, it was definitely cold outside. Again, all photo credit goes to Kristen Kay Photography.

As a side note, I stumbled upon this link. It's not perfect, it's not %100 right or wrong, but there was something about it that stuck with me.  Something to strive for, I suppose.

http://www.mindbodygreen.com/0-5425/The-Difference-Between-Healthy-Love-and-Unhealthy-Love.html

You're doing great.

I went to the temple tonight for the first time in a while. What a place that is. I had a lot of thoughts and feelings tonight as I sat there and pondered everything that has happened to me, everything that is currently happening, and everything that will happen. It's hard to wrap my head around all of it because none of it is what I thought it would be, and some of it isn't what I want it to be, and other parts of it I wouldn't trade for anything.

I really love the temple. And to be honest with you, I don't know where that love or dedication came from. My mom goes to the temple once a week, but it was never something that was broadcast to me as a teen/young adult, and so even though she set a good example, I don't feel like that was necessarily a driving force for me because most of the time I didn't even know it was happening. Perhaps it is genetic. Regardless, I have always loved the temple, and found a lot of peace and satisfaction by visiting it often. I used to do baptisms religiously: Temple Tuesday, is what I would call it. I don't know how I did it, but in college (often while working AND performing in shows at night), I would get up at 5 am and go to the temple before my busy day. The thought of doing that now seems almost impossible. But I did it, and I loved it. But life rushes on, and after starting to date somebody, my early-to-bed evenings turned into late nights and getting up at 5am lost all its appeal.

ANYWAY, my point in all of this is that I probably have a stronger testimony of the temple than I do of other principals in the Gospel. I am not the best reader, nor am I the best pray-er at times, but I am VERY passionate about the Temple. Don't get me wrong, I am far from perfect, and constantly wrestle with different questions/emotions/doubts regarding the LDS church. But my solution and place of solace is in the Temple, and as strange as things can be, I leave the temple each time with a small feeling of peace and the words "just keep going. you're doing great."

And that, to me, is worth it. Those small feelings of peace and comfort and encouragement are worth the struggle that it can be to maintain my covenants; it is worth the effort it takes to make time and prioritize what is truly important in my life. Life for me is hard right now. I feel the most lost, and the most lonely I have possibly felt in my entire life. Every thing that I have ever found purpose or strength from has disappeared, and everything that I have known has changed to something else. And that is hard. It is hard to keep confidence that I am making the decisions that I feel I need to make (whether I want to or not), and it is hard to wake up each morning and struggle to find purpose in that day. I have full confidence and humility that I can stare you in the eye and say "Do you know what true loneliness and abandonment feels like? Because I do. I know what that feels like."

But as I sat in/left the temple tonight, grateful and sad for my position in life, that little voice just nudged me ever so slightly and said "Just keep going. You're doing great."

And I will take that.

Sneak peek!

I had a photoshoot with the talented Kristen Krehbiel of Kristen Kay Photography, and am so excited about how the photos turned out. They were taken for my website, which will go public at the beginning of march, but here is a sneak peek of a couple photos from the shoot!

real. beautiful. sad.

Imperfect faith

Let me get straight to the point.

Do you know what my entire life is resting on right now? 

Faith.

A very imperfect faith.

An imperfect faith that it will be ok.

An imperfect faith that I will be happy.

An imperfect faith that I will make the right choices.

An imperfect faith that people love me.

An imperfect faith that I have a purpose.

An imperfect faith that I will be able to make ends meet.

An imperfect faith that I am good enough.

Imperfect faith. That is all I've got.

Now, my imperfect faith is accompanied with a lot of action: good action, bad action, nervous action, risky action, but its there nonetheless. 

What do you think of that?