Music Review

Oooh music reviews, what to pick, what to pick? Honestly, right at this moment, I still have no clue what song I’m going to pick. There are so many good songs, that the field is much too wide. I’m not one of those people that only listen to one type of music, on my Top 25 most played in iTunes; I have Kanye West, Taylor Swift, The Script, some random DJ, A Day to Remember, Four Year Strong, Brand New, Death Cab for Cutie and Miley Cyrus’s (ew. p.s. her bong video? hilarious!) Party in the U.S.A. I like so-called “undiscovered” stuff just as much as I like mainstream stuff. Whether the song is decades old by artists such as Cat Stevens or Frank Sinatra or released a few months ago, like Ke$ha's "We R Who We R" or Sugarland's "Stuck Like Glue". And the whole time I’m writing this I have been YouTube-ing songs that I don’t have in my iTunes, like the cover of “Creep” from The Social Network, my song is still undecided.

I think part of my indecision is that when I don’t have a specific taste that the song won’t be reflective of all of it, just a small piece. But if you read the first paragraph then you’d get it.

"Pop changes week to week, month to month. But great music is like literature."
- Ravi Shankar

So I’m going to pick an old but classic, ”Cat’s in the Cradle” written and sung by Harry Chapin from the album Verities & Balderdash. It’s the essence of folk music, it tells a story, granted not a happy one. It is about a son who wants to grow up to be just like his dad, but his dad blows him off so many times that the roles switch, and it’s the dad who is asking to spend time with the son who has grown used to not having his dad around. It often gets stuck in my head, and my brother sings it all the time, which is okay because it’s a great song.

So technically reviewing this song, I don’t find anything wrong with it. I don’t expect everyone to love it, but I do, and really that’s all that counts.

This review has gotten me YouTube-ing not only Harry Chapin, but Cat Stevens and Frank Sinatra, all great artists. YouTube them.

Harry Chapin - Cats in the Cradle
Cat Stevens - Wild World
Frank Sinatra - That's Life
Antoine Dodson - Bed Intruder
Kanye West - Power


^On repeat while writing this blog. The two groups combined is interesting... but good... but very interesting together.

Jay and Nick

Jay and Nick, Nick and Jay, its only chapter five and they seem like fast friends. It’s kind of an interesting relationship though.

They met in kind of a strange way, Jay invited Nick to one of his parties, and they were such complete strangers that Nick didn’t even recognize Jay. But I think the best of friendships start in strange ways, at least most of mine have.

Also, they view each other in strange ways. Nick really admires Jay, after all the book is written by Nick and titled “The Great Gatsby”. I suppose it’s nice to be admired, but it almost seems as if Nick is the president of the Jay Gatsby fan club, then again, my best friend Claudia is the president of the Haley Ray Thompson fan club. Another reason they view each other in strange ways is that Jay seems as if he’s personally showing the world to Nick, by taking him to the city on a hydroplane and all the other adventures yet to come. However, Jay is using Nick in a small way in an effort to get closer to Daisy. …Strange.

In a strange way, I do hope they become BFFs because they would make quite the dynamic duo, kind of like Batman and Robin, except they wouldn’t be superheroes, they’d be really cool New Yorkers living in the 1920s when “gin was the national drink and sex the national obsession.”

Winter Poem

It officially begins the twenty first,
though it feels like it started in November.
By February the novelty is gone,
much like the tans in September.
With holidays passed,
the excitement has left,
and we wait hoping for spring.
I turn on the tv and the weatherman says,
Good Morning Chicago it’s thirteen degrees!
I crawl back in bed, and think in my head,
Myrtle Beach Twenty – Eleven.
Winter please leave,
I’ve had enough of waiting outside in the cold.
So when the twenty first comes,
say: just kidding!
And go back to the North Pole.

The Trick of Writing

“Be yourself. Above all, let who you are, what you are, what you believe, shine through every sentence you write, every piece you finish.” – John Jakes

I think that’s it. When given this prompt I automatically thought, write what you think, what you feel, what you believe and the rest will come naturally. I then decided I wanted a quote, Googled “quotes on writing” and this was the first one that came up, my search was done. But I didn’t know who John Jakes was, so I Googled him, he was born in Chicago and attended DePauw in Greencastle, Indiana, which is where my sister went; (it only has 2,400 students, that’s pretty much like WY, weird coincidence).

Any who, I think if you don’t write as yourself, and no I don’t mean character wise, it doesn’t have the same feel, the same quality, it’s just not you. I also think blogs and journals are a great way to develop your own style of writing, and I’m honestly not saying this just for McCarthy, I actually believe it. Although I doubt many, if any, write nonfiction, or mysteries, or sci-fi journals and blogs, but who knows? Maybe one day you’ll grow up to write a sci-fi. But it’ll still have your voice, and you will shine through it.

Personally, I dislike writing serious type things because I’m hardly a serious person. But if you are the serious type, be the serious type and write in a serious type style. There’s a reason why people like reading books by the same author, it’s not the genre, it’s the author. That could potentially be you.

In conclusion, I’m not a professional writer in the least bit, who even knows if I’m a good writer or not? Well, you do. But anyways, I just think that when you write, you should be yourself and let it shine. “This little person of mine, I’m gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.”

That’s the trick. (I also just pulled a rabbit out of a hat.)

Thankful for a Classmate

As much as I hate admitting this, as does he, I am most thankful for RadRyB, a.k.a. Ryan Brown. It’s kind of a funny story. He’s in my division and the first day of orientation I declared him my best friend. He showed up in my freshman connection class, and he and Gabi were my best friends. Then my family moved… .7 miles away from him. Weird.

But I’m not just thankful for Ryan in American Lit because, let’s face it, he’s waaaaay more thankful for me here, I’m thankful for him in life. Really corny, whatever. He’s one of those people who can always make me laugh, but also has the capability of making me so angry, he knows just what to say in both cases, which I love and hate. He keeps me entertained on the train, in American Lit and in division, whether he means to or not. Boundaries don’t necessarily exist between us so we say whatever is on our minds, and we make fun of eachother all too often. We know eachother extremely well and know what the other is laughing at without even having to ask.

Although sometimes we can’t stand eachother, it doesn’t ever last that long. I can depend on him for most things, except for making the train on time, that’s still tricky sometimes. But he would be the person I would call if I was locked out of my house, and he’s actually called for that reason. He’s a radical kid.

I am thankful for Ryan Brown …oh, and Casey Ford (I promised I would name-drop him).

I am a Plow

plow;
8. to tear up, cut into, or make a furrow, groove, etc. in (a surface) with or as if with a plow
-as defined by Dictionary.com

I am the plow. I don’t wait around for things to happen, and I certainly don’t let others do it for me. I take what is considered the norm, and I plow into it, shattering it all.

Am I the plow? Sometimes.

I definitely don’t follow the “normal” way of thinking, or acting, or a lot of things, I like talking about subjects that most people find taboo and I like changing people’s minds, I like all that a lot.

I don’t do all that on purpose or just for the heck of it, it just sort of happens.

I was talking to my friend one night and he asked how I was, and I replied “up until two minutes ago wonderful, but now, not so much”. Naturally he asked why and I explained; the subject was suicide. I think for many it’s a forbidden topic, especially within families. It’s viewed as an imperfection and that drives me absolutely crazy. I feel the need to talk about it in an effort to understand it more, although I never do think suicide can ever be understood. The conversation helped me get through that moment and it really meant a lot. Thank you.

Same thing with my friend Claudia, I come to her with all of my woes and when we talk about “big, hidden, family secrets”, or really anything, it helps. I just need to talk about it.

I may come off as strange sometimes, and Claudia can attest to that, but “normal is just a setting on a dryer” and I get her to join in with most that I do. I remember one summer we were going walking, it wasn’t anywhere close to being my best day so I grabbed a pack of Chips Ahoy, a Nestea and my iPod and walked out the door. I needed to vent and I chose to dance it out. So there we were walking down a busy street in my neighborhood, and I was singing and dancing with my Chips Ahoy and Nestea while barefoot (my feet really needed to feel the Earth, again, strange, I know.) She couldn’t count how many people looked, but she did note that a cop car gave us (ok fine, just me) curious looks. That was my way of dealing with it, far from the norm.

This is really scatter brained, but the gist of it is that a plow digs things up for other people to use; I open new ways of thinking and dealing with things for people use. That sounds rather full of me, and I’m really not, but I think that’s my metaphor. I think I just confused myself, and whoever reads this by trying to relate it all. But in my head, it makes sense. See? Now that’s proof I don’t think like all of you.

I, Haley Ray Thompson, am a plow.
(Please don’t spread that around.)

A Direction the Class Needs

Sometimes I wish that these blogs didn’t have to be 200 words, although that’s hardly anything considering I’m currently on my 22nd word. If blogs could be short, like really short, this one would be one word: Unavailable. But since it cannot, I’ll ramble on a little more about why my answer is unavailable.

I absolutely love how there’s no one right answer, although sometimes it would seem as if there should be. The class discussions certainly keep me awake at 8 AM, and they’re the perfect background for sitting and drinking tea (which I tend to do every day if I don’t finish it on the train).

Although I do find taking notes on books we’re supposedly reading for enjoyment to be a bit ridiculous, especially because very few of the books are short and notes are just tedious in my opinion. Also, if you really need notes to help you remember what the book is about, well, I’m sorry but that’s just a little sad.

All in all, I truly do enjoy this class, and I’m not just saying that to suck up to McCarthy for a good grade, (it’s a few days too late for that), I actually do. And now I have finally hit my 200 word quota, so, here’s my answer:

Unavailable.

Modern Day Slavery

Slavery. When you hear the word you automatically have disgust for it, coming from our history as a nation, slavery certainly isn’t tolerated nowadays, or is it? Tricky. I’m unsure whether or not to reply philosophically or not, so I’ll try to combine it.

It certainly exists in America, all you have to do is a Google search of “modern day slavery in America” and you get numerous results, many are human trafficking, specifically for women and children. Whether it’s for work on a farm or into the sex trade, it definitely exists no matter how disgusted we are all with the thought of it.

Now to get philosophical about it, I think we, the American people are slaves to ignorance. Think about it. Do you really know what’s going on outside of your city? Your state? Your country? My intent isn’t to offend you, I promise, but do you know what’s going on? Slavery is kept under wraps in America, it’s not something to speak openly about as to whether or not it’s going on at this very minute. Did you know that many innocent people are sold into the sex trade every day? People our age, people younger. If you did, has it crossed your mind in the past 48 hours? Past week? Past month? No, it doesn’t affect you on a daily basis.

Last year in my World Studies class we were learning about the Congo, and then present day Congo and everything that’s going on there. We read an article from the New York Times and were immediately disgusted by what was happening to the women there. They were being brutally gang raped by men from opposing armies; there was nothing they could do, and many times it would happen day after day, without anytime for the wounds, both physical and mental to heal. This had been going on for quite some time and I knew nothing of it.

I was watching Law & Order: SVU one night, and it was about a woman who emigrated from the Congo and had witnessed a rape, when the prosecutor asked her how she knew it was a rape, she replied with a look in her eyes hard to forget, “I know when someone is being raped.” It was true. But even though the issue was on television, I doubt many thought twice about it.

Last year in my Art class we had to do a canvas painting of a present day issue, many chose equality, gay marriage, the war on crime, I chose the Congo. Many asked what I was doing it on and when I told them they had no clue as to what it was. They were disgusted and didn’t want to look at the painting (although I must admit it was a little graphic).

The reason that story is relevant is that even when an injustice was presented right in front of their face, they wanted to remain ignorant about it. True, it was happening 6,000 miles away, but you would think something that inhumane would have attention surrounding it. Guess not.

It’s foolish to think that slavery doesn’t exist anymore, much less in our own backyard, so to speak. We, as a nation, choose to remain ignorant about it because it’s not affecting us. We, are a slave to our ignorance.

The House of the Seven Gables

Salem, the Puritans, the actual House of Seven Gables, and Nathaniel Hawthorne may seem really ancient and boring, which believe me they are. Strangely enough though, they do have some semi-interesting facts. Shocking.

-In Salem, there was a rivalry between the East and the West sides of town.
-In ten months, 165 people were accused of witchcraft.
-Puritans believed that if you were born on a Sunday, it was a great sin upon your parents.
-Puritans brought more beer on the Mayflower than water.
-The House of Seven Gables has 17 rooms.
-The latitude and longitude of the house are 42°31′19″N 70°53′5″W.
-Nathaniel Hawthorne changed his name after college from “Hathorne” for pronunciation purposes.
-The book Moby Dick was dedicated to Hawthorne.

To connect, Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote the book The House of the Seven Gables, which took place in the Puritan community of Salem.

You could probably make a case that there is still some Puritan influence in our culture today, but I wouldn’t agree. They were super strict and religious, and I think both are hard to find in our society today. Of course there are exceptions, just; on the whole, based on my “observations” if you will, I don’t think so.

The Moment I Knew I Was An American...

It’s kind of a funny prompt to give kids living in America dontcha think? To anyone living outside the United States they’d think it was the day we were born, but for those living here want to be something else, strange huh? For example, if you asked a group of kids “what’s your nationality?” very few answers would be American; they would be Polish, Italian, Irish, Mexican, and Chinese, almost anything other than American.

If you asked me, I would say American.

My family has been here, in Chicago, since the 1800’s. Before that? Wisconsin. Before that? Canada. To claim to have strong ties to another country would be ridiculous. My family jokes that we can choose to be who we want, my Grandma Ray’s family was Irish, and lived there a long time ago, she had red hair and so did I when I was little, I chose to be Irish. (Don’t get me wrong, there is Irish blood in me somewhere, just not in the past century.)

For a school project I had to find out exactly where I came from, as far back as I go, I chose to ask my Grandpa Ray. I was at his house and I said “Grandpa, what am I?” he simply said “You’re an American.” This obviously wasn’t the answer I was looking for. So I said “No, where is your family from?” he said “Chicago.” Again, this wasn’t the answer I had hoped for. I tried again, “Grandpa, you have to be from somewhere other than Chicago, so where?” he said “Wisconsin.” I eventually got the whole story, and realized that the question “what are you?” should be answered with “American.”

I knew I was an American the day I was born, but never truly found out until my Grandpa told me, and ever since then, I have always answered American.

Us Vs. Them . . . Us & Them

I have played softball since I was strong enough to swing a bat, and I've been around it since birth. At times it has definitely seemed like my life has revolved around softball.

Not only did I just play softball, I played travel softball. It's like a club sport, and it's super crazy intense. I started playing on the Oak Park Windmills when I was 7 years old. The thing with travel softball is that there's never an off season. Tryouts were held in late August, and you had at least two two and a half hour practices a week. Pitchers had an extra one, so I had 3, and there were optional hitting practices. We had a two week break around Christmas, but we normally had homework, yes, homework that we had to do. There was normally a tournament around Halloween, and an indoors one in late January. Then when spring rolled around, tournaments were more often and by late May there was a tournament every weekend. In July there was the "big" tournament, it was the Metro. All the best teams in Illinois competed, and whoever won was considered the best team in Illinois. The week before Metro there was at least one practice everyday, but we did get team Slurpees at the end. Depending on how you did in each tournament and whether or not you won, you racked up bids for Nationals. Nationals was about a week long tournament with teams from across the USA competing. The last Nationals I went to was in North Carolina, we ran laps around our hotel, hit wiffle balls in the parking lot, and found a school with a field we could practice on. It was nuts. The fun came after Nationals when we went to the beach or amusement park, and then we had a 3 week break until tryouts.

As you can see, my team was crazy intense. But we were really good. We won a lot of tournaments, won Metro one year, and could beat teams that were both older and bigger than us.

Obviously, when competition is this tough, you have to have major rivals, and we had many. Our biggest, the Chicago Outburst.

It started out among the coaches, there was a history we didn't know about, so we always were on top of our game to beat them, and we always did. I don't think I have ever played a game against an Outburst team where I've lost. We always respected teams and never beat them too bad, if we were up a lot we would leave the base early, or swing at balls to be courteous. Being courteous to the Outburst was unacceptable, and it never happened.

I remember at one of the conditioning practices last November, Coach Hinrichs asked me who I played for before, and I said the Windmills, then I noticed a junior in an Outburst shirt, she was good. Here's this junior in an Outburst shirt, whom I'm supposed to have this rivalry with (although I had quit travel), who was really nice and really good. And the rivalry ceased to exist anymore.

It's like All-Star teams, the competition and rivalry is fierce when you're playing against each other, but when you're combined, you become a united force.

We can only be against each other for so long, until eventually we have to join together, and sometimes when you're joined, it's even stronger.

John Proctor: Hero or Stooge?

Hero - a man distinguished by exceptional courage and nobility and strength. Stooge - flunky: a person of unquestioning obedience.
(As defined by Google)

John Proctor: Hero or Stooge? Hero

A very strong and influential member of the Puritan Church in Salem, Massachusetts, died a (mostly) honest man, fighting against the persecution of those who are thought to be “witches”. He lived a modest lifestyle, and always stood firm in his beliefs, no matter the outcome. John Proctor: Hero.

Yes, Proctor did commit the crime of lechery. Yes, Proctor did protect his reputation rather than telling the court about the crime with Abigail Williams. Yes, Proctor did “fake” being inhabited by the devil. Yes, that is all true.

No, Proctor did continue his affair with Abigail. No, Proctor did not abandon his wife when she was accused of witchcraft. No, Proctor never accused anyone, nor did he believe in witchcraft. Yes, Proctor never confessed to being a witch and ultimately died for it. Yes, that is all true.

On the day of his execution, officials brought in Reverend Hale and Proctor's wife, in the hope that he would find God and confess, which would save his life. However, he had already found God, and disliked going to Sunday worship because he felt that all Reverend Parris rarely talked about God in his sermons. They also hoped that Elizabeth would be able to convince him to confess, really, they didn't want him to die. She said she wanted him alive, but wouldn't want him to compromise his integrity for her.

He didn't. John Proctor was executed because he refused to confess to witchcraft which he didn't practice nor believe in. He showed exceptional courage, along with Rebecca Nurse and Giles Corey, all of which are heroes in my mind. We fear the judgment of others, yet, the heroes fear not the judgment of others, but the judgment of God.

"Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God"

Fear is commonly used as a scare tactic, from when your little and your parents say the cops will come an get you if your bad, to now when our own school threatens us with I.S.S. when we know they don't even enforce it in the first place. Jonathan Edwards uses this tactic in his sermon “Sinners In the Hands of an Angry God” given in his Puritan Church.

"The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you and is dreadfully provoked: his wrath towards you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire”

Although Edwards is talking about the sinners, in a Puritan community it would be sinful to not pray once a day. If you forgot to pray one day, and you went to church and heard this; wouldn't you be terrified of God? Once you're in this terrified state I think there are two options: either kick it into overdrive to make up for your mistake, or lose all hope completely.

Although I don't go to church as regularly as I should, I am a Confirmed Catholic, and I do believe in God. My pastor from my old parish's Sunday sermons were often light, funny, often times could be related to my life, and really taught the scripture even further. I remember at my Confirmation, in his sermon he talked about Macaroni 'N Cheese, and I absolutely love Macaroni 'N Cheese. He spoke about how a healthy life has many different ingredients in it, family, friends, God, and a how a little Macaroni 'N Cheese never hurt. (I have really taken the Macaroni 'N Cheese part seriously, I have it incredibly often, Kraft Toy Story is probably my favorite kind, its almost like a vice.) I never felt threatened by my pastor nor do I think anyone should be.

No matter how good of a pastor he was, he couldn't change my views on many of the things the Catholic Church frowns upon. I am pro choice and same sex marriage, and I don't believe in Hell or Purgatory. My mother is divorced which isn't ideal in the Church, and therefore it's tough to throw my full support and heart and soul behind something that doesn't accept the most important person in my life.

Everyday, I walk by a Catholic grade school, and on it's sign it reads “ALL ARE WELCOME. CATHOLICS COME HOME.” and it gives me hope, and reminds me of my faith, although I rarely attend. I certainly wouldn't make it as a Puritan and I would probably fear for my life, literally, with almost every move. Also, I certainly couldn't handle Jonathan Edwards. I cannot judge those who/what I don't understand, but I do think scaring followers the way he did, didn't help the moral of the church community.

Arrivals... There Goes the Neighborhood

As teenagers, many are probably not accustomed to noticing cultural changes in their neighborhood. Your lifelong friends still live in the same house, and the really nice old lady still lives at the corner and passes out the good candy on Halloween, you’ve lived there you’re entire life and you don’t know anything different. But maybe once there was a new kid on the block, not the band, but a new kid. He didn’t have any friends and he didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of your block, and maybe he was so different that you heard a neighbor say “there goes the neighborhood”. Who would think that one family could have such a big effect on a neighborhood? But the reality is: it’s true. Although I never knew who that one family was, I saw my neighborhood slowly begin to change.

I grew up in the Belmont-Cragin area on the Northwest Side of Chicago, which 40 years ago was primarily Italian. When my family first moved into our bungalow on School Street 20 years ago, it was a mix of the older Italians who had been living there for quite some time and your average, middle-class American families. Passing neighbors greeted each other in English, all the kids played together on the block; it was a great place to raise a family.

Chicago has one of the highest populations of Polish immigrants in the nation, and the majority of them live on the Northwest Side. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, more and more Polish immigrants moved to the Belmont-Cragin area. With the migration came Polish delis, book stores, and clothing stores, where the merchants and the customers only spoke Polish. Gradually, our neighborhood became more Polish and less American. Polish became the language of the neighborhood, we couldn’t converse with our neighbors and it was tough to shop because not only did the merchants speak Polish but all the signs were in Polish. It also became commonplace to rent out rooms in cots in basements to their fellow countrymen. It was no longer just families living in a home; it was a family with many illegal borders. We became the minority in the neighborhood.

We continued to be the minority until 5 years ago when there was a gradual influx of Hispanics. Now, not only were the Poles speaking Polish, but the Hispanics were speaking Spanish, and the American families dwindled in numbers. The single family bungalows now housed several families in one building. The schools along with the neighborhood became overcrowded with too many cars on the street, too much garbage in the alleys, and the animosity amongst neighbors of different ethnicities grew. I no longer knew the people who lived on my block.

As my siblings moved away, our bungalow on School Street was too much for just my mom and me, she sold the house and we moved 6 months ago into a two-flat. I no longer call School Street or Belmont-Cragin my neighborhood, and it hasn’t felt like my neighborhood for a long time. The neighborhood continues to change and it was probably a good time for us to move. I now live in Lincoln Square and I understand everything that goes on around me, whether it’s store signs or people asking about the Cubs’ game on the street. I feel like I’m part of a neighborhood again.

An Introduction, An 'About Me'

It's official, school has begun, I'm doing my first actual writing assignment, an 'About Me', go figure. If you really want to know about me you should know this: I hate writing 'About Me's. I'm unsure as to what you want to know, and what you should know I don't think should be simply told to you. Reading one of these is to me the equivalent of stalking someone's Facebook page, you only learn the surface, and I would rather you know the core, the heart and soul, which I certainly won't pour out through the keys of my laptop.

Basically, I'm Haley Ray Thompson and I have blond hair and blue eyes. My birthday is 17 days from today, and because it's early in the year and everything relating to math is foreign, that makes my birthday September 26. I absolutely love my birthday, I figure, if you only have one day a year, why not make it the biggest deal of the year? Other than loving my birthday, I love my family and middle name, iPod, orange juice, N.Y.C., Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, Band-Aids that aren't plain (such as Disney Princess or Toy Story) and playing softball.

This isn't much about me, and I don't believe I lead you to think it would be. Most of what isn't answered, is the heart and soul of me, which you must find out on your own.