My Bio

Alright, it's long, very long, but it even made my mom laugh, (I crack up every time III read it...)

I wrote it a few months ago at three in the morning. You have been warned.

HOLLY EMPEY is currently eighteen year olds and a freshman at BYU Idaho in Rexburg, and loving it. She is clearly aware that she is eccentric, and while somewhat embarrassed about it, she's learning to make the most of the ride. She has a strange fondness for her cat, Diego, and has considered him her best friend since she was ten. She is also aware that this is weird. She enjoys reading sappy love stories, and dramatic Young Adult Fiction. She hopes to become an author in the future. Of what, she can only imagine. She might go by the alibi of Emmy Holland if she's embarrassed to have the people she's close to (and not so close to) reading her silly and sometimes unnecessarily deep and semi-morbid writings. But mostly cheesy things. She loves her immediate family, her extended family, and her future family. She wants nothing more than to be a mother. She also loves theatre, although watching plays always makes her itchy and twitchy, because she love love loves being the one on stage. She especially loves being the comic relief characters. Well, that's pretty much all she's ever played. Although she did make a pretty sweet Auntie Em in the Wizard of Oz when she was sixteen. She is currently listening to show music, Once on this Island, to be specific, while writing this. Oh, it just changed. Moulin Rouge. Oh, she spent about two years with the Moulin Rouge soundtrack in her car stereo, without ever changing it, in high school. She would often have duets with her best friend, Stephanie Lovett, at lunch her sophomore year, usually the Elephant Love Medley, in which she was always the man. And it usually sucked, but was lots of fun. She has given lots of strange but lovely gifts throughout time, including glow-in-the-dark dinosaurs, a cat collar claiming "STUD MUFFIN" in turquoise glitter letters (that was for Diego, don't worry), monkies in a barrel, a hand-painted wooden folding chair for previously mention best friend Stephanie Lovett that was covered with their inside jokes, and a few garden gnomes. She was once on an epically awesome volleyball team for seventh grade PE they fondly named the Garden Gnomes, and has kept the spirit and awesomeness of the cute critters (and sometimes semi-creepy) garden gnomes alive with her friends. Not to be confused with Lawn Gnomes, although those are pretty cool as well, they just lack alliteration, and being an English major and self-declared random person, alliteration is important. She currently has a "Listening Garden Gnome" on her shelf back in the dorm, and a miniature one sitting in her desk. She once had an obsession with the color green, but it has grown to encompass most colors overall. She is a person with a strange and semi-limited sense of creativity that she still is trying to understand and use. She always sings when driving. Always. She has problems with insomnia, and she admits to herself but no one else that the reason that they might not be getting better over the years simply because she loves the electricity of the night and achieves so much more once the sun has gone down. Plus it's cooler, and the sun hurts her eyes, thus giving her migraines. If she could choose, she would live only at night, but realizes that then she would never get any Vitamin D and therefore suffer. She would also be very white, and believes that she looks best with at least a faint tan. She is a big fan of Orange soda and cheesecake (not necessarily consumed together. Actually, never consumed together. That's kind of a gross match.) Also, the cheesecake must have some sort of chocolatness to it, or else she will stick chocolate chips into it, or, when lacking chocolate chips, like usual, she'll throw on some Hershey's syrup. THAT she always has in her fridge, mostly because she's also big on chocolate milk. And garlic bread. And guacamole. And Kraft macaroni and cheese. And tacos. But then again, most people are. She likes most animals, although, having never owned a dog, isn't extremely impressed by them. She doesn't like the fact that they smell. And she simply cannot find joy in small dogs. It just isn't happening. However, she does love most cats, kittens, puppies, and birds. She's quite fascinated by birds, especially owls and anything with pretty colors. Actually, this a rule that applies to most aspects of her life: she tends to love anything with pretty colors. She also loves horses and would love owning them in the future. She thinks they seem kind and intelligent. And rather cool. She also thinks wolves are interesting. And matinees, though she feels a bit concerned by the idea of ever meeting one. She once wrote a project for CP Bio on sloths, and has been fond of their cute faces ever since (even if they only come down their trees once a week to poop half a cup of poo and it takes a whole day to actually climb down. Yes, she still remembers what she learned). She also wrote an interesting post on her old blog about the legended Giant Ground Sloths from like, the Ice Age. She's written actually a ton of what she considers clever blog posts. She enjoys laughing on a daily basis. She is entertained by little daily things and all things ironic. She likes butterflies a lot. She enjoys anything with a good dose of glitter, although she tried to suppress the fondness in high school, but has fully accepted it once again. When a small child, it is claimed that she spat on people that were smoking. She currently enjoys the smell of cigarettes, which is quite odd and she'd never smoke, not after taking health class. She also enjoys the smell of gasoline and thus enjoys going to the gas station. Her ancient Olds Mobile, named Big Red by her sister, the last owner, constantly plays the turning signal clicking noise, and she usually forgets to explain it to new riders of her car. She has been told that she has a very strong voice in her writing, which she finds quite pleasing. Someone else once told her that she bled personality from her ears, and although that could possibly be taken as an insult, she takes great joy in it. She just hopes that this personality is not annoying to the others around her and actually worries about it a bit obsessively. She likes to make the people around her happy. She wishes she were funnier for this purpose. (Also because she thinks it would be fun, and would enjoy the satisfaction of making people laugh and impressing strangers with her clever wittiness. She would probably also enjoy the attention, though she probably wouldn't admit it to herself.) She would love love love to live in the countryside of England, with the rolling green hills that STAY green all year long, in a totally ancient house with history leaking from it's walls (and hopefully not too much mold) where she could take walks around her property and be close to castles and pretend to live in a fairytale. She would quite enjoy a simply life, or at least that's what she thinks. Things like that often change once you actually get there, but she does believe that she would enjoy the lack of worldly stress that had been her constant companion since, like, forever. Her biggest fear is finally finding love, getting married, and have her husband fall out of love with her, or cheat on her (one fear). She thinks that if she lived a simple life somewhere, like the countryside of England with her eventual husband, that this fear would subside. We'll see. She considers most of her friends to be her best friend. She once resented the fact that she didn't have the classic "best friend," but has gotten over this. She likes having lots of people that she loves and cares about and who sometimes, most of the time, amazingly, return the feeling to some degree. She recently required mini salt-and-pepper shakers in the shape of corn cobs as a gift, and thinks they just might be one of the most awesome things on earth. Also, though she is an English major and loves to write, she has never claimed that she could spell. And she probably will never be able to spell to save her life. She is secretly a fan of cheesy romance and day dreams about her Prince Charming. Shh, don't tell anyone. She is a huge fan of the Will Ferrell movie Elf, although she thinks he just might be one of the top ten creepers of the world. She watches the movie year round and still bursts into rounds of giggles, especially at the parts when Buddy speaks to Mr. Narwol and Arctic Penguin. She has never actually answered the phone with, "Buddy the elf, what's your favorite color?" because she lacks the courage, but is determined to do so before dying. She also thinks it would be cool to have wings. Or to be a fairy. Or, you know, a fairy princess, although there are few people she would admit this to. She often bursts into song, strangely more so lately, with all different songs, differing from various hymns to classic 80's songs. These often include Queen songs, and, most often "Livin’ on a Prayer" from Bon Jovi. Whenever she gets around to painting her nails, which is probably once every three months, if that, they are usually some obnoxious color of bright pink or orange or turquoise, but most importantly, this yellowy lime-green that she's had since she was twelve which is her favorite, just because color is important to her. She firmly believes in color-therapy for daily life. She also firmly believes in art therapy for those with bad issues. And music therapy. And theatre therapy, if such a thing exists, because these methods have had a majorly positive effect on her life. She also believes that "butter" is a strange word and can't STAND it when people add a T to the end of the word "across," thus saying "acrosst." It bugs her like none other. And you'd be amazed how many people say this, thus invoking her annoyed wrath. She realized the other day that she rarely gets mad. However, she has this way annoying rebellious streak that popped up probably five years ago, that makes her extremely annoyed whenever someone REQUIRES her to do something that she doesn't want to do, usually homework. If they asked nicely, she would be more than happy to help out and do it, but once they require it, she resents it and loathes every moment of it. This is probably the most annoying aspect of her personality to herself. Aside from her lack of responsibility. Although, if you think about it, life sort of REQUIRES you to be responsible, and therefore, is probably the reason why she resents it. She is not a fan of hard candy, or any candy, for that matter, if it doesn't have chocolate. She's a big fan of chocolate. She is not a fan of pie, but she likes cobblers and crisps. She thinks its a sin to put fruit in salad. Vegetables and fruit don't go together. Thus, she believes tomatoes are a vegetable. She is indifferent about the avocado-being-a-fruit theory. Or, you know, fact. She likes them either way. She enjoys oxymorons. She also thinks this is a cool word, "oxymorons."

She currently lives with... she currently considers herself displaced, being kicked out of her apartment at school in three weeks when Fall Semester is over and she is forced to leave for four months, having not been assigned to Winter Semester, but Spring Semester, and seeing as her parents decided to move from their home of ten (eleven?) years in Temecula California, and are now living with her grandma in the center-of-the-universe-Layton-Utah, with her beloved cat, Diego, she considers herself without a real home to go to. Although this isn't necessarily true. She just misses her life back in California whenever she realizes that it's been taken away from her.

She has vastly enjoyed writing this. Conceited, no? Oh well.

Let It Be: Eating Habits

To my distress, I soon realized why Sam had first introduced the event as a “special dinner.”

They had made a freaking feast, like the sort of Thanksgiving dinner you saw on TV, the perfect dinner to feed twenty people. But this time, it was just me, Sam, and Cecil. My heart sank as my stomach churned. Nausea from the nervousness, not just the scent of food. How was I going to get out of it?

I sat and talked to Cecil while Sam bumped around in the kitchen. When he came back, Cecil got up to go get something out of the oven.

Sam came around my back and put a plate in front of me. “Eat.”

My heart sank even further. It was loaded, two inches high with rich foods, nearly spilling off the edge. “Sam…” I begged in a whisper.

“Eat,” he replied, harsher this time, staring at me.

I did what he said, I began eating. But once I hit my usual limit, which was wasn’t much, I stopped.

“Don’t stop.”

“Sam, I’m not used to so much… it’s going to make me sick,” I whispered in shame.

“Just try.”

I did, all that I could without vomiting there at the table. A cold shiver shot through my body, my face going pale. Tears formed in my eyes. I didn’t want to disappoint him, but I just couldn’t do it. I looked up at him, apologizing with my eyes.

He didn’t force me anymore. “You need to fix this,” he rumbled angrily.

“I am trying,” I whispered.

Cecil came back, his own plate loaded, and chatted away amiably. He was the cheeriest I’ve ever seen him, which felt weird since I was feeling so down. So was Sam. It was strange that Cecil didn’t sense the tension.

Sam disappeared into the kitchen again for another ten minutes without an explanation. But when he kissed my forehead in farewell later that night, there was beer on his breath. I winced. I made him sad.

The fact that Sam drank bothered me. I’d seen what alcohol does to people. I’d sworn to never touch it. But it was different for Sam, because Sam was different. It soothed him. Instead of taking away his reservations, his control, it focused him. It calmed his rage down, it made it easier for him to control his temper. He drank when something was really bothering him.

And I had bothered him.


Before I left, I grabbed a Sticky-Note and a Sharpie.
I'm sorry I ruined March 23rd.
I know it's because you love me. I'm trying.
Love you.
-Abigail


The next day, as the warning bell was ringing for first period, Sam appeared next to me. He kissed me, which was weird because we rarely did so when other people were around, never in a crowded hallway with people staring. But he kissed me, put something in my palm and let me walk into Spanish.

That was weird.

I sat down in my seat, people watching me disapprovingly, and looked at what he had given me. It was one of the same Sticky-Notes that I had used the night before, a note written in his careful script that proves he didn’t learn to write anytime lately.

You did not ruin it, I did.
I am sorry I upset you. I know you are trying. I just hate that you are hurting and I can't do anything about it.
I love you, too.
PS. I remembered why we celebrate March 23rd. It was the first time Cecil ever beat me in a wrestling match. Dumb, huh?
Samuel Montgomery

Stapled to the note was a bag of green grapes. It made me smile.

At least until Senor Tibet yelled at me. “Senorita Shea. No comer in la clase.”

Mood ruiner.