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.)