Confidence

"One of the most important things I've learned so far at college is probably the most invaluable piece of knowledge I've ever gotten.
I look around at the girls on campus. Some of them are tan and toned, some are chubby, some are so fat they waddle, some are nothing but skin and bones, but they all look nice. And when you look at their faces, they all have some little imperfection. Every single one of them. And they still look nice.
As I sit here going through the album on Facebook that someone put up, full of close-up pictures of people smiling and having fun, I realize that the thing that ultimately makes someone pretty is them believing that they are pretty. I am by no means a super-model, but I have to start realizing that I am pretty. My eyes and nose and mouth are pretty. My face, even with it's acne scars and bumps, is pretty. My smile that reaches up into my eyes that are two different colors, is pretty. My body is as pretty as I present it to be. There are girls all around me with a flabby arms and thunder thighs that are not afraid to wear tank tops and short shorts. Some of them maybe shouldn't show so much, but I commend them for not being afraid of showing their body off to the public. I am more comfortable hiding inside my XL t-shirts and baggy shorts that cover my knees, but I don't need to hide. Somewhere on campus is a guy that would love to see more of me. Not just in the typical 'I want to put my penis inside of you' type, but the 'I want to get to know and love every inch of your skin' kind of way."

I started this post at the beginning of the semester, back in August or September. Now it's December. I've got a broken arm and a shaved head. (More on that in THIS post). The broken arm and wheelchair bound-ness has limited my wardrobe to sweats and t-shirts, which kind of sucks (but is kind of nice). But the shaved head, that has changed my entire look completely.

July of this year

After surgery

November of this year

Luckily, I found that guy I was referring to earlier. When I first saw my reflection without my hair, he was sitting with me. I started crying and he just sat there holding my hand. He told me not to worry because it wasn't even the prettiest part of me. Talk about a great guy. :)
The bottom line is, if I hadn't realized my own beauty, this wreck would have killed me. Not literally, but it would have killed my sense of self worth.
Sure, there are still days when I look in the mirror and want to cry. There are still moments when I see my reflection and say, "Ew." But I still know I'm pretty enough for me, and that's all that really counts.

The Month that Changed My Life

Thursday, October 24th, My friends and I had a "Classy Thursday." We dressed up all day, then got our friend's brother (and my soon to be boyfriend) to throw a Ho's and CEO's party. It was a great day and an even better night. :)

Fancy Thursday

Classy ho's :)

Saturday, October 26th we were in Omaha. We spent the day trying to find my little sister a Halloween costume. We were surprised at supper by my mom and her husband, who were supposed to be in Maine. Once we got back to Peru, we got ready for a costume party. Nichole went as a fox, Andi as a cowgirl, and I as a flapper from the 20's.

Lookin cute!

On Sunday October 27th, at around 2 am, I rolled my car. My (soon to be) boyfriend was with me, but thankfully was not hurt. He climbed out to find me partially ejected, my left arm bent under me, the car across my lap, and dirt coating my face as I screamed for help. Luckily an EMT lived just around the corner and came to sit with me until help came.
After they pulled me out onto the backboard and loaded me up in the ambulance, they took me to Auburn, and then flew me by helicopter to Lincoln's Brian West hospital. I was taken to the trauma ER where my parents met me.

I wasn't looking so great anymore

I went into surgery at 6:30 am to put my shattered humerus back together and to release the softball sized ball of fluid that was trapped between my skull and my scalp from where I hit my head against a tree. (I'll spare you the picture) When I woke up my room in ICU was full of people and machines. Apparently my friends followed me to both hospitals and stayed until my mom sent them home around 9 that morning. They came back that night too. :)

My little sister and Rich never left my side :)

The next few days are a bit of a blur. There were cards, calls, and visits from so many people. There were doctors and nurses and x-rays and needles. There were medications and vitals taken. I was so exhausted, but my friends came to see me almost every day, even if I was miserable company.

My best friend, Jacob, surprised me!

Dustin, Rich, Chelsea, me, Nichole, and Andi
Aka the "Peru Crew"

On Halloween, I was moved up to the rehab floor after finding out I have a fractured pelvis. I was excited to finally get to wear my own clothes!

In rehab, I met some wonderful people. We would all get together to eat and talk about why we were there. It was as much a part of therapy as any of the things the therapists made us do! Being able to see other people in your predicament is a great thing to mentally get you through the rehab!

Marilyn is a special young lady. :) She was in with an amputated foot. This lady has so much spunk, it can't help but cheer you up!

 Dave was in recovering from a stroke. He and I had therapy together most days, and he works so hard to get better! He and his wife, Kelly, live in the tiny town of Peru, where I go to college. It'll be fun to keep in touch with them when I go back to school.

James and Kelly were in a car accident not long after mine. He swerved to miss a deer and their car went off a bridge. Long story short, they're in bad shape -but lucky to be alive! They've been home (sort of) for a few weeks now. Luckily we can still keep in touch. :)







Due to my broken-ness, I couldn't go to school and I couldn't go home. Thankfully, a close friend has opened his home to my mother and I. He's truly a blessing right now!

It's now been 6 1/2 weeks since the accident. My fractured pelvis is almost healed and I've been cleared to start walking on December 19th. My arm is healing nicely, and I've even regained some control of my wrist! It's been a crazy month and a half, but I'm so lucky it happened. I've learned to be more patient and empathetic. I've found out who my real friends are, and who I can always count on. And hey, I got a pretty awesome boyfriend out of all this.
Though I'm not happy it happened, and I definitely regret a lot of choices that put me into this predicament, I will never forget this time in my life, and hopefully it makes me a better person. :)

Be careful what you ask for, It might just come tue

All I wanted was someone to be laying in the sun, quietly reading with me. I wanted someone to put their arm around me when the sunset chills roll in. I wanted someone to curl up in blankets with me and talk as the moon comes up. I wanted someone to look at me the way I look at the sunsets and the moon and the beaches. I wanted someone to look at me and smile because I am the best thing in their world. I wanted someone to give me that special face.
Instead I got someone whose face lights up when he sees me. I got someone who’ll put their arm around me and hold me close before I have to ask. I got someone who’ll hold my hand as I lay in a hospital bed after an accident that could have killed us both. I got someone who truly understands what I've been through. Someone who doesn't have a smile for me, but a whole face lit up as he watches me do the simplest things. I got so much more than I bargained for. And it’s everything I've ever asked for.
Now let's just hope I don't screw it up.

My Obituary.

Once upon a time, I had a mentor named Connie. She's not old, but she's certainly not at the age to go out partying all night anymore. :) She and I were talking one day, and she told me that she has her obituary all written out and her funeral plans all set, just in case.
I've never thought much about it. I mean, I'm 18! I've got the whole world ahead of me! I'm invincible! But earlier today I was thinking about what others must think of me, and how I want to be remembered. So I've decided to write my own obituary as if I died today. This is by no means a cry for help or a suicide note!! It's just a way for me to really think out HOW I want to be remembered so I can assess what I need to change.

Shalyn Mae Holloway

6/12/95 - 9/9/13

Shalyn Holloway of Aurora died on Monday, September 9th, 2013 at the age of 18 years, 2 months, and 27 days.
Shalyn was born to Sheila (Moore) and Troy Holloway in Aurora, Nebraska on June 12, 1995 at 3:33 am, the first of many late nights for her. She attended Aurora Public Schools from kindergarten until her senior year when she graduated with the class of 2013 on May 12th. That fall, she began schooling at Peru State College with plans to major in Museum Sciences.
Shalyn did everything with all she had. If she loved you, she loved all of you most of the time. If she cared about something, she cared with utmost passion. If she laughed, she laughed with her whole heart until tears ran down her face and she began to sound like a whining guinea pig. And when she was mad, she burned the Earth with a passionate rage. She would drop everything to help her friends, and she often did. She sacrificed sleep and sanity, but it was what she loved to do.
Shalyn loved to learn. She'd spend hours sitting quietly with a book and her tea. She watched YouTube videos, memorized random trivia, read obscure articles, anything to learn some quirky fact.
Shalyn was a member of many online communities. She was a Nerdfighter, aiming to decrease the amount of bad in the world, and a fangirl, loving Dr. Who, Sherlock, Supernatural, Warehouse 13, Night Vale Radio, and Star Trek: The Next Generation. She would be incredibly disappointed to have died before she could get caught up on Dr. Who or to have seen Season 3 of Sherlock, if it ever comes.
Shalyn was greeted in death by her grandpa, Bob Holloway, and many, many ancestors. She is surely dying to hear all the stories she was never told of and by them. She will also be lovingly greeted by former family pets including, but not limited to Pete, Bruno, Shy, Max, Snoodles, Mrs. Cat, Tiger, Tiger, Samuel, Scrappy, Midnight, Smokey, Dorothy, Billie Bob, and Bubbles the Nerdfighting Hamster.
She leaves behind her grandma, Karen Holloway, father, Troy Holloway, mother, Sheila Gramm, sister, Risa Holloway, half-brother, Danial Jameson II, sister-in-law, Melanie Jameson, nieces, Claudia, Hailey, Carol-Ann, and Nichole, along with countless cousins, aunts, and uncles.
She also leaves behind her best friends, Jacob Bish, Megan Sharp (and family), the guys at the museum, and Nichole Iverson.
She would want her memory to live on by everyone focusing on not being a dick, and trying to make the world a better place. This can be done by recycling, volunteering, and donating to small museums.
She once said, "The message I'm trying to send . . . is, be a good friend. Help your friends."
Services will be Saturday September 14th at the First Christian Church in Aurora at 11:30 (am. We had to clarify for anyone who knew her love of night), followed by internment at the Aurora cemetery where she will be buried next to her beloved grandfather. A luncheon will follow. Everything will probably be late and dysfunctional as a testament to her lose relationship with time and organization.
Please allow any and all feelings to consume you as a way of remembering her. And remember: Don't Forget To Be Awesome.


I understand that that would never be published because it is long and inappropriate, but that would be great. I might have to write another one saying more about my life and less about my person, but I don't think anyone would really care about either. I think what made me most emotional when writing this was the 'she leaves behind' section. There are so many people I'd want to include! I've been so close to so many people in my short life, and it breaks my heart that I can't list them all. There have been best friends, mentors, church leaders, step-parents, boyfriends, girl friends, internet friends, people I was in various clubs and activities with, just too many to count or list. I know many of these people wouldn't ever know if I died. For all I know, they could be dead themselves. It's gut-wrenching to think that these people, who I have cared very deeply about at one point or another, and I have nothing to do with each other anymore. It makes you think about the fact that I might not have even met the most important in my life yet. Though I'm pretty sure I'll still be talking to Jacob and Megan and maybe even Nichole in 10-15 years. But who knows?
The only thing I'd hate about dying right now is that there would be people all over campus talking about it who never even talked to me. Surely there'd be some sort of 'remembrance' ceremony or something stupid like that, where all these people that don't know a thing about me would be at. My Facebook wall would be coated by people that never cared, talking about how much they'll miss me. The people I was actually friends with might post silly inside jokes, but more than likely they wouldn't say anything. I think that's how you can tell who your true friends are. When I die, will you publicly express your mourning, or will you quietly go on with your life? I'm pretty sure my best friends would be quietly walking around, attempting to go on with their lives, getting mad at the people pretending to miss me. My best friends will probably sit around by themselves a lot, probably talking to me. And I'll be right there. And hopefully they'll know that.
Shit. This is so much more emotional than I planned on. I'm just sitting here picturing how I would react if my best friend died. Honestly, I'd drop out of college for the semester. There is no way I could go to class after that. I don't know if I'd be able to go more than an hour without being struck down by gut wrenching sadness.
Oh God. Just the thought is awful.
But how lucky am I to have something that would hurt so much to lose?

Coming Home

Labor Day weekend was a 4 1/2 day weekend for me, so I opted to go home. Here are some thoughts I had last Thursday night as I lay in my bed.

          "This whole idea of coming home is really strange. 3 weeks ago, I couldn't imagine being comfortable anywhere else. I had my little nest built here, and it was cozy. I picked out all the main pieces of my nest and headed off. I found a home for all my things and ended up with a brand-new nest that was incredibly cozy! I settled in without realizing it. I developed new patterns and habits. I adapted to sharing my nest with someone I wouldn't have ever even talked to. But I kept thinking, "I want to go home."

          As I was turning towards Nebraska City, I thought about how easily I could just turn around and not come home. Dad didn't know I was coming. Risa probably wouldn't care. Jacob was being cranky. Plus, it'd be cheaper. But I thought about how much I've missed Jacob and my room, so I continued.

          When I walked in the ever-unlocked front door, Dad and Risa both seemed so happy to see me, but I didn't feel anything. It felt like coming home after a long day of school. Nothing too spectacular.

          I looked around. Nothing much had changed, but everything felt different. The fridge has been cleared of my childhood trophies to make room for Crystal's plans for the future. The milk was in a different spot in the fridge. My mug wasn't in the cupboard. It was just little things.

          To Dad and Risa, nothing had changed. Having me back wasn't much different. But coming back, that's so much different. This is no longer my home. But neither is my dorm. These next few years, I will be a drifter. Both physically and metaphorically. I have a place to stay when the dorms are closed, I'll have a permanent address to have my things mailed to, but I won't have a home.

          For the last few weeks, I've looked forward to laying on my bed. As I lay here now, I just want to leave. The idea of coming back again is more stressful than the idea of leaving ever was."

Goodbyes are hard.

As the last 12 hours of summer arrive, I realize I haven't blogged much since graduation. I would apologize to my readers, but I doubt anyone has actually noticed.
Tomorrow morning I will get up when my sister is getting ready for school so I can tell her goodbye. I will put the last of my things into my car, and I will go to Aurora to say my goodbyes before getting onto I-80 and heading off to Peru. The mechanics of it are simple, but the idea that I'm about to do it is almost too much to bear.
Jacob came over tonight to watch Dr. Who. I wasn't (and still am not) done packing, so we ended up doing that instead. I realized about half way through packing that this was the first time I've had to pack by myself. Usually my mom or my aunt Linda is helping me. Making sure I never take a box to the car that can fit one more thing into it, and making sure I'll be able to find my things until I'm fully unpacked. But this time, it was all me.
We never got around to watching Dr. Who. Instead we went for a drive. The last drive before I leave. When I suggested it, I was half joking. But when he agreed, the realization settled over us both, and we bolted out to his truck. Desperate to fit in one last drive.
As we pulled into my driveway and I reached for the handle, I turned to say goodbye. Usually it's just a simple "See you later!" But as I tried to pull the words out of my mouth, I could only think, "I'll see you next month." I felt the idea of the tears start to well up, and ,realizing he's never seen me cry before, I hopped out of the truck and went inside.
My cat followed me upstairs and I picked him up. He just stared at me with his big, green eyes. Owly eyes as my grandma calls them. I just looked at him, remembering him as a baby and how he's grown before my eyes. All the changes and purrs I'll miss. It's so silly to be emotional about leaving a cat, but here I am, bawling like a baby. Two down, two to go.

I have to stop and see Grandma before I leave. That woman has done so much for me in my life, but especially in the last few years. Tuesday while I was at work, she filled a laundry hamper with laundry soap, dryer sheets, a roll of quarters, a package of paper plates, a pack of paper bowls, a pack of Styrofoam cups, a baggie full of silverware, a bottle of dish soap, a roll of paper towels, a pack of scrubbing pads, a box of tea, and a bag of my favorite chips. She also gave me an ottoman out of the camper with a set of her towels from the camper and the set of towels my aunt took to college. She's done so much for me, and I don't know that I'll ever be able to thank her enough.
I also have to stop by the museum on my way out of town. I'll be saying goodbye to the place as much as, if not more than, to Megan. She's so lovely. She's been there for me through the crazy scholarship period, the extreme Senioritis, the summer slump, the long nights, and the thought filled days. She and her family have loved me with open arms and warm smiles. Walking into that museum was one of the best choices I could have ever made, and I'm so glad I did it. I'm just bummed I won't be able to make it to coffee one last time before I go! Those boys have given me so much knowledge and so many smiles. 

Having to say goodbye to your 4 best friends (one of which is definitely not a cat) in a 12 hour time period is hard. I've tried really hard to not think about tomorrow for a good six months, but now here it is. Staring me in the face. As a lovely childhood song would say, "Can't go around it. Gotta go through it."

I know that it's only a 2 hour and 45 minute drive to come home. I know that I'll be back in the next few weeks to come to the State Fair. I know I'll be back next month for my dad's birthday and the museum's big weekend. But this is, without a doubt, the scariest month of my life so far. I'm going to a strange new place, full of strange new people, not knowing a single soul, without my mom to make my bed, and without my grandpa to hold my hand.
Oh, God. I have the ugliest cry face. I hope I can hold it together tomorrow.

When I am old and grey. . .

When I am old and grey, I will look back on this summer and smile. Perhaps with a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.
It started with an adventure to a place I fell in love with.  I came back to an adventure with a great friend. It continued with the same great friend.
I made good money at a nice enough job, with pleasant people. I got wonderful advice from a fantastic friend at a place that I love.
I discovered a lot about myself and who I am. My best friend and I spent a lot of time driving aimlessly, talking, and watching Dr. Who.
I got back into a state of mind that let me be creative and comfortable, and to help me get back into writing and drawing and painting. It also helped me free my inhibitions about about public singing- though I've been sounding pretty pitchy lately.
I've snuck a boy in and around my house, and he has slept in my bed on occasion.
I went to Wal-Mart at 10:30 at night and locked the keys in the car with a great friend. And after that was fixed, we drove around until 4 am.
We celebrated being friends for 3 years. We fought off the hordes of people insisting that we date. We learned to read each other's moods and actions and glances. We memorized each other's habits and fears. We truly became each other's soul mates.
Someday I will either be happy or sad about all of this. Either thinking about this great summer with Jacob will break my heart, or warm it. Maybe we'll still be friends, maybe not. Maybe he'll die too soon. Maybe we'll be married. Maybe we'll stop being friends. Maybe we've changed. Maybe we'll be essentially the same people. Is Jacob out West? Am I out East? Do we meet in the middle?
In 15 years, we'll have been friends longer than not. I like to hope so at least. I like to believe that when two people fit together as well as we do, that they stay friends for a long, long time.