Oh yeah, there's an update to the hair thing.

I saw the hair post that I wrote a couple weeks ago, and saw how upset I was, and decided that I really needed an update. Admittedly, that sad looking picture of me was really the best that I could take on that day, and it was probably a completely psychological thing.

So, I really LOVE my hair now. And I will post pictures to prove it.

It's just good.

H.B.

Regarding my first week back

It's been... a fantastic week actually. I came back really having no idea what to expect in terms of how busy I'd be, when I'd get a job, what friends I would be able to see, etc. And the past week has seriously been jam-packed with good.

I've had a BBQ with my Dad in his new place, helped him adopt a cat, and watched him hallucinate and go crazy. I've reconnected with my best guy friend, made a fool of myself in front of a guy from Yale, helped him give a cat to a friend, and become a part of his life and someone to talk to again. I've listened to my always fun and carefree friend in her times of heartache, and fed ducks at the part (Volume 2). I've somehow kindled the kind of friendship I've always wanted with the girl I've known longer than any of my friends, and seen a friend that I haven't seen in almost two years. I've gone to church after being absent for almost a year, and laughed with a friend that I haven't seen in two. I've seen my grandparents. I've already had an interview, and set up two more. I've taken care of a guinea pig, and watched him and a cat become friends. I've made a cake, macaroni, and awesome fried rice in preparation for housewife-dom. And all this with only missing Max just a little bit!

Seriously, this week has been amazing. However, I don't know how long it will continue. After awhile, people will leave, I'll have one or more jobs, and be (hopefully) working my butt off to save up for moving to Riverside. But all in all, I'm happy. I'm happy to be back home, and I'm happy to feel like no matter the amount of time that passes, my friends will always be my friends. That as we get older, we laugh about different things, but our conversations are deeper and more meaningful, and we're always planning on when we can see each other again.

I'm very happy, but admittedly, I do miss my baby. But I'd like to believe that this is all necessary preparation. I need to actually get a job, but I'm doing good!

Oh my gosh and I bought this dress. And it was more money than I should have spent, but Shawna told me to. And I really love it.

H.B.

Regarding church?

I think the last time I went to church was sometime in October. And it was really only because I thought that everything I knew was gone, so I had to start over. And then as soon as my old life came back, I stopped going again.

It's weird to think about really. I've always had a testimony, and it hasn't diminished despite being gone from church for months. I know a lot of people leave because they don't believe anymore, or find fault in organized religion. For me, I just feel guilty when I go. The life I have now is one that I chose, and one that I've accepted. However, having accepted that kind of life which is contrary to the church's teachings, and not wanting to change it just makes me feel out of place in a group of people who are actively trying to live the teachings. I don't want to fix my mistakes, I want to continue my mistakes until they are no longer mistakes.

Every week I have dreaded Sunday. I have woken up with a knot in my stomach and tried to figure out an excuse to get out of going. Often I have slept until 1pm or later to simply avoid thinking about it. Even up to last night I was dreading today. Today is the first Sunday where I am officially moved back home. All school year my Mom has acted mildly annoyed about me not going to church, but hasn't had a lot of pull in making me, since I've been away at school. I was really hoping
this would continue, but she took the first chance she got to essentially threaten me about going to church, because "THAT'S WHERE HEAVENLY FATHER EXPECTS YOU TO BE." The last time I checked, that attitude does not work as a motivating tool.

So even though I was super angry last night, and expecting to have the same feeling as usual about church upon waking up, things turned out a little differently. I actually wanted to go to church, and completely of my own accord. I'm getting ready to go now, so I will update later!

Update

I'm so happy that I went to church. :) Really. The hardest part wasn't getting ready (I looked freaking hot today) or even driving there. It was the moment from getting out of the car and walking up to the door. In that moment I was still able to bail out, and overcoming that desire was the most challenging part of the day.

I think one of the biggest motivators in going was seeing a friend that got back from his mission a few months ago. He's been calling me asking when I'd be back from school because he wanted to see me. So I told him I'd come to church and asked if he would be my sitting buddy. R.S. was okay, no one really seemed to be affected that I was there. It is always funny to me when they talk about how important is to visit the less actives, when I had been gone for months and no one had any idea that I hadn't been at church in all that time.

When R.S. was over, Nate came in to visit me before he left to another class, which I decided to go with him to. And then we sat together again in Sacrament, and made sassy comments about the speakers. Nothing mean, just that a woman was talking about a particularly trying time with her five kids running around the house, and Nate and I both said "Answer: Don't have five kids."

I saw a few other people that seemed genuinely happy to see me. My friend Leah, the Bishop, and a couple people who said that my dress was pretty or my hair looked nice. I talked to the Bishop's daughter, who is also a vocal performance major as a lyric soprano. Even a girl who I had definitely been in church with before came up to me and asked if I remembered her from the one year I went to Seminary.

On to Lessons Learned

I'm a firm believer in the power of prayer. I believe that any prayers spoken, with faith that they will be answered, will be answered eventually. I've been concerned for awhile now about my relationship. There's certain things that I want very badly in my future marriage and family, and I've been fairly concerned that things won't work out the way I hope. I've seen my Mom go through two failed marriages, so of course I'm more prone to worry about such things. I've also been struggling with my own shortcomings and life decisions, as previously mentioned.

My prayers and worries were addressed in church today. Two separate issues, answered two separate ways in two different meetings. Firstly, in Sunday School our lesson was on repentance. And someone actually posed the question "What if we have sinned, and don't feel sorrow?" And people had a few answers that didn't really seem too solid. Finally a girl said how it doesn't always come immediately for everyone, and for her feeling sorrow for something took literal years. It was a nice feeling, that I'm not alone. Others do things, and can't always repent immediately. Maybe for me it will take one, or five more years to understand. And that's okay.

And then in Sacrament my worries about Max were addressed with a talk from the new member of the Bishopric. He and his wife both talked. He was a convert at age 18, and later was able to take his wife to the temple to be married. Admittedly, that's something that isn't going to happen in my life, but that's not something I'm ashamed about. Anyway, he was saying how long it took him to learn the gospel, and that he still is working on gaining a testimony. And he used the quote "Line upon line, precept upon precept." He also said something that I have said so many times. That his wife saw the potential in him, that he didn't see in himself at the time. I have so much faith in Max, and I know that he will do everything he can to be a great man, husband, and father. I can't expect him to learn immediately, it could take his whole life. And again, that's okay.

H.B.

Bedroom

• Bed with black comforter or dark grey comforter
• Black tall bookcase
• Black desk
• Black and accented color short bookcase/ nightstand

Living Room/ Dining Room

• White couch with cover (color?)
• Tan desk
• Light brown bookcase
• Possibly white bookcase or painted bookcase as table stand
• Kitchen cabinet
• Tan table with tablecloth and tan chairs

Regarding summertime plans.

Firstly, let me say that I have accepted my short haired fate, and am learning to like it. The first thing Max said when he saw me was that I look like the girl from the new Bioshock game, and that she's sessy, so that makes everything okay.

My finals are over! I am 70% moved out of the apartment, I just need to take my dishes and furniture. I'm in Riverside with Baby right now, and the realization that I can potentially stay here forever, especially since we already have an apartment in our name, is exciting. However, I am moving back to Simi for the next 4-6 months.

I'm excited for the summer. Who isn't? But really, there's so much that I have the potential of doing that I just have all my time to do. I'm looking for work currently and I have one interview at Petsmart lined up for next week. I'm very excited, I really want to work in a pet store. I'm going to try to be full time, but I'll probably end up in between part time and full time. Even so, the whole concept of going to work for my allotted shift, and then having no homework and no music to learn is a wonderful feeling.

My plans are essentially doing as many DIY craft projects as I can get my hands on. I'm going to completely hipster up my new place with Max, and I'm very excited about it. I was so lonely in my old place, and my roommate's dog kind of destroyed everything, so there wasn't much I could do.

Other than work, and crafting, I have a wedding to plan. If someone stops being a complete butt about it and putting the only part that he has to do off. So really, I have so much to do, in the best of ways. I'm going to be using this blog a lot and documenting craft projects and such, as well as wedding developments.

I also plan on buying some rats, playing with all my kitties, planting plants, learning German through illegally downloaded Rosetta Stone, and going through all of the stuff that has amassed in my room since I was born.

I'm very excited for life, and so grateful to be done with school.

Concerning Phantom on this Wednesday morning.

In December 2004, the Phantom of the Opera movie came out. My friend from middle school really wanted me to see it. My lovely mother took me at like 10 or 11 at night for some reason (I think because it was being taken out of theaters), and sat in the back of the theater while I sat with my friends in the front row. I was 12. The day was February 19, 2005. A day that every year since then has warranted some kind of celebration, or acknowledgement. I think I made a cake one year...

The movie begins in black and white. My 12 year old self didn't appreciate this, thank you very much. And then that damn title track began. I don't remember a specific point in the movie where my brain decided to have a meltdown and entirely change everything about my life forever, but it happened somewhere. I do remember the Phantom's unmasking, which admittedly made me jump. However, keep in mind that I was in the front row, and even horrible CGI face deformities are startling from that close up.

I do remember eating Ice Breakers Sours. Why I know this, is that because of smell/ memory connection, the smell of those stupid little nasty candies makes me think of that theater, that experience, and every Phantom feel. I've actually bought them in the past just to smell them. All of my movie tickets from that night on are saved in an Ice Breakers Sours container frm 2005. Well, some of them I decided to glue onto a piece of paper, which was a terrible idea, but that's besides the point.

I came home from that movie, and my initial reaction was to be the Phantom. One time this guy I dated in high school (who I only dated because of his beautiful Phantom Halloween costume because I seriously have problems) asked me if I loved the Phantom, or wanted to be the Phantom. I still don't think I know. But the fact remains, that that was my first reaction, and my sweet mother indulged my crazy and gave me her black gloves to play with. It was a dark night for me. February 19, 2005...

The next day I began a binder to fill with Phantom related items. With my brief experience the best I could muster was getting my mom to let me print pictures of Gerard Butler and Emmy Rossum from the internet. But I needed more, it was a drug. The movie had stopped playing in my hometown, but was still playing in Oxnard. Again, bless my mom's heart, she indulged the crazy. She drove me out to Oxnard to see the movie. The movie reel had problems and kept skipping, so they gave us a free ticket to see it again. The madness consumed me.

Then came finding the soundtrack, novel, and renting other versions from the library. I was 12 and my mom had to deal with me singing, "What sweet seduction lies before us!" and then trying to explain was seduction meant. I read the novel, covered my school binder with extremely suggestive pictures from "The Point of No Return" scene, and further accepted the crazy.

I remember the first time the real extent of obsession was made known to me. We had a long-term sub in my 7th grade History class, and the lady who replaced her was named Ms. Gerbert. (I think.) She saw the pictures on my binder and made a comment about how she loved the show/movie/whatever and I was so angry. You know, the crazy fangirl "I LOVE HIM MORE THAN YOU COULD EVER HOPE TO YOU STUPID POSER." Again, I seriously have had problems.

I also remember one particularly hilarious conversation with my mom, (hilarious looking back on it I mean) where I said something along the lines of "The Phantom's the bad guy, everyone loves Raoul. I feel bad for the Phantom, and he's way sexier. I'm cool and awesome and unique because I like the bad guy which no one has ever done before." Like I said, hilarious.

My hope in being unique was soon crushed when I realized that everyone loved the Phantom, (who by now I called Erik) and no one really gave a crap about Raoul. My crushed hope turned into a life mission of systematically taking down everyone who dared utter a word about my soul-mate, and simultaneously making myself the supreme overlord of all Phantom related knowledge. One such tactic being to never refer to Erik as "The Phantom", only by his name, which only I knew.

The only thing I can really chalk this insanity up to is having a balls homelife. It was around this exact same time that my Dad lost his job due to disability, and was in turn home 24/7 to make my life hell. I started self-harming, and thought about committing suicide once or twice. In some cliche way, this story saved me. Erik had it way worse than me, ("Poor, unhappy Erik!") and he was comforting. I wrote fanfictions with a Mary-Sue named Anna which had very graphic sex scenes in them.

And again my mom, bless her soul, indulged me in every way. I think she knew that it helped me. She gave me Christmas presents signed from "Erik" to "My Anna" that contained things like a boxed set of C.D.s of classical composer's most popular works. One time she burned the edges of a letter and wrote something like "You light up the darkness of my cold dark lair." And another time, gave me a massive Valentine's Day card that played "Fur Elise" when you opened it, signed "From Erik". My mom wins everything.

So stuff like this continued on through my life. The only real problem it caused was that aforementioned thing about dating a guy because of his homemade plaster cast mask and velvet-lined cape. That experience can be chalked up to these words of wisdom: Do not date someone who is as obsessed with something as you are, because it just isn't healthy.

I saw the show for the first time in 2009, and met John Cudia. Amazing. I saw it again in 2010, coercing a friend into taking me even though we had entirely different seats. On the way back, the love of my life informed me that he had started dating someone at his new college, which I won't get into right now. The point of this is, that at this point the whole concept of Phantom was extremely comforting for home problems, as well as being lonely. From 12 on, every time I went through a breakup, (that wasn't my doing), the Phantom thing spun out of control. I imagined him there in the rafters at my choir concerts. I imagined him as this friend who was there when things were unpleasant.

Unfortunately, instead of turning to Phantom in this time of actual crisis, I tried another approach, called dating a "clean-cut LDS boy". I guess being told that kind of news while coming back from the show kind of made for a bad combination. Don't get me wrong, Phantom never left during that time, but I did try to hide a little of my crazy for this guy.

I'm going to omit the whole next year or so for the sake of writing another post which would be my incredibly convoluted love story with the man I'm going to marry.

So, now we're in the summer of 2012. It was a Phantom filled first half of the year. I went through a breakup which kick started another very long and intense Phantom episode, where I wrote fanfiction again and got into the Tumblr fandom. And then I found out Phantom Vegas was ending in September, so I made it my life goal to go see it. Due to persistence and a lot of help from my soon-to-be stepfather, I went with my Mom. I was happily in a relationship at that time, but the transformation of the theater still made me cry.

Since then, Phantom has kind of taken a hiatus. I'm still insane, and it still holds a massive part of my life, heart, and college major, but it's not the most important thing anymore. I don't need it to be happy. (The song "First Day of My Life" just started playing on Pandora and I'm going to tear up because of the irony.) I've found my steady source of happiness. I have this beautiful, real person in my life, who I can't say always understands me, but tries harder than anyone else ever has. Those dark moments aren't filled with self-pity, but with a man trying to make them brighter.

I love Erik, but I don't need him anymore. And I think he'd like that. To Holly, he was always a comforting friend. And all friends want their friends to be happy. So, I'll conclude with this.

Erik,
Thank you for being there for me when I needed you the most. Thank you for sparking classical music and opera in my life, and thank you for completely designing me as person. I wouldn't be who I am now without your influence throughout the years. I'm just writing to let you know, that as much as you've helped me, I don't need you anymore. I have someone else. Someone more stable, who isn't a crazed lunatic murderer. Don't worry though, I've never held those things against you. I'm going to be starting a family soon, and although your books, movies, and Broadway memorabilia will always be on my shelves, your consuming presence in my mind will not be. I hope you understand. I found my Christine, and he isn't running away. Oh, too harsh? Sorry.

I remain your obedient friend,
H.H.

On how I let Max cut my hair....and the results thereof.

This is St. Vincent.

I constantly want to be her. Maybe only because Max is in love with her. Because she is lovely, and a good musician, and have you seen her hair? Her hair is everything my hair tries to be, and isn't. So I had a goal. Once I realized that she is actually incredibly similar to me in face shape and hair texture, I decided to just try and be her.

I got a haircut last month. It was okay. I got bangs, as you can see in my first picture of myself. It was a nice step, because up until that day my bangs were like 3 different lengths, and just silly. So I got them cut straight across, and I kind of love them. But my actual haircut just wasn't short enough. It wasn't St. Vincent short enough. Again... you can refer to that first picture. 

So, I have this problem. As soon as I decide for sure that I want something, I will obsess over it until I obtain it. (That is if obtaining said thing is possible. I mean, I'm still not Christine or an elf in Middle Earth.) So I decided that I needed some shorter hair. Shorter hair is healthier, and curls better, and is cooler in the summer. And here's where I went wrong. Instead of spending another 60 dollars to get a trim, (I'm against such crap. I need to eat and pay rent.) I trusted the love of my life to CUT MY HAIR.

I just. I just can't explain why that was the method I settled on. So, he trimmed a piece. A short piece. It was good! So I expected him to continue in such a manner. This was the result:

I'm not going to lie, I cried. I sat on the toilet with my clump of hair in my hand and cried. Max ordered pizza and chicken wings to make me feel better. Max is a good man. Max is not good at trimming hair. He is good at butchering it.

So today, after that whole conversation with the stylist about why I trusted my boyfriend to cut my hair, I look like a glorified mushroom. The bottom layer was so short, that they cut all my hair off. I'm trying not to hate it, and I will learn to like it, but for right now, these are the nicest pictures I could take

I am not St. Vincent

-H.B.

In which Holly explains how she is excited about potentially failing a class.

Now, this is going to sound very snotty, I understand. But.... I've never failed anything. I've never gotten a C on anything in my life (I think) except in P.E. (And that's another story about how I'm so lazy that I will likely die sooner rather than later.)

Those are some hard expectations I've kept for myself. I have over a 3.6 GPA in college and university, and A's in all my classes so far in the semester.

Except one.

This semester was balls. I did not want to be here, and in fact, avoided being here as much as possible. I spent a lot of unnecessary money, and kept getting parking tickets. And I had to break my bedroom door down. I decided at the beginning of the semester, not to come back. (Again, another post on this later.)

So I made my arrangements, which really isn't very difficult. Making arrangements to not go somewhere, is about as simple as saying "I am not coming back." and telling your roommate to find a new roommate, and not registering for classes in the fall.

Anyway, this class. I am enrolled in a history class, titled A History of Music of the 19th and 20th Century. Actually, I have no idea what it's called because I have not gone. There it is! I literally have gone to this class 4 or 5 times. It's twice a week, and I've been in school 15 weeks I think? So there were about 30 classes. And like I said, I've attended maybe 5 at the most. It's just one of those things, where once you stop, it's so hard to start again. Like going to church, or not sleeping 12 hours a night. (Again referencing the P.E. post which will come later.)

It's not even an early class. I just don't care so incredibly much, and somehow skipping every class makes me feel so rebellious. (It's a joke, I'm not rebellious. I worry about heart attacks and I'm 20 years old.) So I went and took the 2nd exam without even looking at the material, and I got a whopping 43%. I laughed. I did. But then he had to curve the grade, and it bumped to like a 60%. Added with the 90% curved grade from the 1st exam that I actually did study for, I have a chance of passing. And that just puts me in a pickle.

Because honestly, now what? My final is tomorrow, there is no way I'm looking at the material, but if I manage a curved D, I may get a C in the class. BUT WAIT. There's this essay. This horrible essay that people freak out about and spend 35 hours in the library on.

So my dilemma is, do I write a piss poor essay, maybe get a D in the class? Or do I do nothing, and consign myself to definite failure?

Other people fail all the time (wow. even I'm offended by writing that.) So why can't I? I'll have 6 A's and an F! Universities have to look at that and laugh, right? Right?

While I debate on this, I suggest looking at this article. (Actually, it's for me to find it easier, it has nothing to do with any of this. I just want mason jars as wedding centerpieces.)

http://www.buzzfeed.com/peggy/41-easy-things-to-do-with-mason-jars

-H.B.

Inspired by the rain

Bed Hog

While it rains outside
you keep me warm
under crisp cool sheets.
You’re fast asleep,
and quiet.

You move a little,
to form a diagonal.
I whisper
“You’re hogging the bed.”
You move away silently,
but soon move back
to hold me tighter.

My mind often takes me
to strange situations
so real in my dreams
that I sometimes forget you.
But upon waking,
the simple thought comes.
“You’re real.”

I wonder,
if I’ll ever grow tired
of sharing my sleep with you.
For now, every chance
is a miracle.

I pray for long days,
and many safe nights
in your arms.
While the rain pours outside,
and plays its soft music.
And you
hog the bed.

On how Lily from How I Met Your Mother is me in a nutshell, and Max is Marshall.

"I'm a scaredy-cat okay? I want to be the type of person who just charges fearlessly into the unknown, but I came back two weeks early from Paris because I was lonely. I went to San Francisco and I was never more depressed in my life. I'm small town Marshall, I'm a hick from Brooklyn who's terrified of living more than ten subway stops from where I was born."

That feeling is every reason why I think that I'll always be at war with myself. I've always wanted to do everything, experience everything, go anywhere and just live my life. And the opportunities have always been there. Hell, I live five minutes from the ocean, in a city that people would kill to live in, and I can't wait to go back home. I was all set to go to the Ukraine for six months, I was accepted into the program and everything, and I couldn't do it. Movies like Into the Wild make me so happy, that spirit of letting go and just living freely and simply. That idea of getting on a train and never looking back, only forward. But when it comes down to it, I can't take chances. I can't throw away the things that bring me comfort. And I will always resent myself until I can.

But then there's more to this conversation. Marshall responds:

"Okay! Fine! Maybe the only sentence I know is 'Come on bro. Don't Bogart all the Funions.' But I know, in my heart that you understand me anyway. Because no one has ever understood anyone better than you and I understand each other. Is this trip going to be scary? Yes. Do I like the idea of not knowing the language? Of course not. But I believe we can do this. I love you, Lily. I love you."

And that's the real reason that I am Lily in her first statement. The places she went, she went alone. She went without Marshall. She tried to charge fearlessly into the unknown with half of her missing. And so have I. I stayed in my hometown, even though I always knew that I needed to be with Max. I came here to Long Beach, because I thought that two years wouldn't be too long. But every second I'm with that man, wherever we are is home. I wasn't afraid to go to Portland with him. I had tried to go by myself for years, and I couldn't. But buying those plane tickets with him, was the easiest thing in the world.

So maybe it's hard for me to throw away schoolwork from 3rd grade. Maybe it's hard to let go of drawings, or stories I wrote as a child. But when it comes down to taking chances, exploring new things, and doing things that seem terrifying, home is never further than he is.

-H.B.

Compartmentalizing

I like things to be in little compartments. I enjoy organization, and cleanliness. I like being able to find things precisely when I need them, and knowing from where and when they originated.

That's actually the purpose of this blog. You see, I spend so much time online, that my typing skills are great. My writing skills, are not. I try to keep a journal, but I'm backed up to December... and it's May 9th.

This blog, is for life events. For personal feelings. For experiences and chapters. Whereas Tumblr, is for Phantom pictures, and onion men. Facebook is used as a cover, where people can actually think that I'm funny and normal, and not a psychopath who reprints the same page of an assignment 5 times because the paper was wrong or there's a crease. And the other Blogspot blog that I made is for my highly opinionated political and social views, that Max does not want to read because he likes me to be non-aggressive. Unfortunately, I can get pretty aggressive. And my nice little bird journal, is for the mundane, "Today I saw a cat." things, that my kids will one day read, also a cover so they think I'm normal and not full of crazy. Although I don't know how possible that will be to cover up with me as their Mom.

Point established, and completed.

-H.B.

Hello.

My name is Holly. I am a 20- year old female. I live in Southern California, and just finished my 3rd year of college as a vocal performance major, which essentially means that I do a lot more work than a lot of other majors, and people still think it's not a real major. I can't talk too much though, because my better-half is a computer engineer, and he makes things that make me want to cry sometimes (Technology often frightens me). 

I think lists are good. And this isn't one of those Tumblr lists that are like "sweaters, tea, cuddling!". This is real. These are the ingredients to Holly.

• Cats, Kittens
• Any furry animal
• Any living creature (Except some types of insects, bacteria, or fungi. Although I do think moss is nice.)
• Bluegrass (This one took me a long time to pinpoint as the music that speaks to my soul, but once I figured it out, I really can't get enough.)
• Phantom of the Opera (I won't explain, just safely assume it constitutes over 50% of my being in direct and indirect ways.)
• Perfectionism with schoolwork (I do not mean being a good student, I mean obsessively collecting assignments, notes, compositions, sheet music, and then spending the next 2-3 years going through it and fixing small details. I really think therapy would help.)
• Max (Honestly, he's my better half. He takes the crazy out as much as he can, and without him in my life, I wouldn't be me.)
• I freaking love cheesecake
• Being an only child (Along with this comes 20 years of learning to entertain myself in ways such as enacting watering hole scenes with dinosaur chicken nuggets and BBQ sauce, also frequently talking to myself in various dialects, and occasionally pretending I'm an 19th century gentleman.)
• This weird hand life has dealt me where I am simultaneously trying to balance a conservative Mormon upbringing and beliefs and the very liberal social and political views that I have.
• And of course the hipster elements... trees, sunflowers, photography, tea, into the wild, slam poetry, poetry, being a hopeless romantic in love with the world, and the constant desire to run away and live in the forest until I am inevitably eaten by the animals that I love.

Currently, I can't complain. I just finished my juries today. Got my Mahler, Britten, and Mozart on. And it was good. It was super good, and I made upper division and junior recital approval. But I'm not coming back to BCCM next year or ever and essentially doing that whole running away to be with the love of my life thing.

The point really is, I love who I am. I am so blessed to be one of the few women who completely loves how she looks, her body, and her mind. I think I'm fascinating. In the most humble way...

-H.B.

(Holly Baba is a nickname my favorite Uncle gave me. I like it.)