Monday, October 31, 2011

Thursday, October 27, 2011

With Love, from Panic

"When I really worry about something, I don't just fool around, I even have to go to the bathroom when I worry about something. Only, I don't go. I'm too worried to go. I don't want to interrupt my worrying to go."
-J.D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye

 I'm managing a pretty heavy load of classes, working, and dating this semester, and frankly? I'm a pro. I'm freaking awesome. But.... sometimes I feel like this is happening to me:

Hello, Love.

 I like to keep you up at night, so, as long as this thing is going on between us, forget about sleep. Sleep is my rival, and you and I are exclusive, okay? Also, homework. Forget about it. That loser can take a hike for all I care, cuz he ain't touchin my girl.

Let's get another thing straight: I am in charge. You are my minion. No one can take that away from me, not even you.

See ya soon,

Your Anxiety Attack

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

It's Label Time!

I am not white.

Neither am I "Caucasian."

I am an American of (mostly) European heritage.  There are lots of reasons why I "should" feel short changed in the PC department: I am a woman; I am a "Mormon;" (and here we get a little far fetched but it's true), I am an exile of Scotland, and my native American ancestors' culture is completely deleted from me.  If it weren't for "white" men, my life would, hypothetically, be a lot happier (at least, different, and somehow different is always happier, right?)

Part of the problem is that it's all chalked up to the "white people."  I hate it when people say that I'm white.  It's not true.  I'm as white as any African American is black, or an Asian American is yellow, or a native American is red. That sounds rude, doesn't it? It is rude, and calling me "white" is just as rude as calling anyone else any other color.

I'm not Caucasian, either.  That's one of the most ridiculous terms ever to be applied to me: it refers to a people of northern India.  They were slightly less dark than the south Indian peoples, so they were "white," ---but they were less white than I am, and I don't have any recollection of being told that my family history traced there....ever.

If "blacks" get to be called "African American," then I get to be a "European American."  It's only parallel.  And if they want to be called "people of color," then I'm a "person of color," too, because there is definitely pigment in my skin (which is peachy), my eyes(which are brown), and my hair(which is also brown).  And if they want me to stop "being racist," then they need to stop being racist, too.

My family is not racist. We celebrate diversity, and part of the proof is the apple of our eyes: my youngest sibling is adopted, and he is not of the same racial makeup as I am. I love him just as much as my biological siblings, and I hope for him all the things that I hope for my biological siblings. I think I might love him better than I did some of the older ones when they were his age, just because I know better now how to value a sibling. I feel comfortable saying that my whole family feels this way.
It is unfair to us for anyone to judge our thoughts according to what our demographic predecessors thought and did (which does not include my ancestors, incidentally. I've done quite a bit of family history, and it seems they were all very poor, never owned slaves, were servants themselves, and fought for the north in the civil war), just like how it's unfair  for the African Americans to be judged by their racial background, or for the Scottish to judge me by the dishonorable actions of an obscure, Campbell ancestor, or anyone to be judged by the race they are a part of.

Isn't it about time we all moved on?

. . .And it's "European American," please.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

MacroVision and Rock Canyon Trail

Hey guess what? I'm dating an artist!
Jordan and I went on a nature hike this weekend and took my new macro filters for a spin! I had to finish up a roll of film with my 52mm lens, so Jordan used my d5000 for the first few minutes or so. Not bad, aren't they? The one above and the two below are his.
Isn't this just lovely? And to think, we live amidst such beauty.
Here's a picture of me! You don't see me a lot on this blog, do you? Well, there's a reason for that. I think Jordan has a talent for framing pictures, these aren't cropped at all.
I love Jordan's eyes, though this picture perhaps is not focused on the correct plane. I was using the +10 filter for these ones.

(This one obviously is without a macro filter. Isn't the foliage lovely? It reminds me of beautiful Pennsylvania. My, how I miss that place sometimes, especially in autumn when the colors turn, and PA, I know, is robed in gold, and red, and glory.)

I also used the +4 filter for some of these. It has a slightly wider depth in its field, and I like how it distorts the surrounding image less than the +10.

Lichen! (Not to be confused with Laken).
Janel, this dirt is for you.
More lichen.
Utah lake. So lovely, so dirty.
I wanted to get a photo of a bee in flight, because the bees were ought and busy on this bush, but alack. It was not meant to be (or rather, I ran out of patience).

Monday, October 17, 2011

We Are Cavemen!

Jordan and I went to Timpanogos Cave National Monument. It's a 1 1/2 mile hike up the mountain to the caves, and it's about an hour long tour once inside with a ranger. We had a lot of fun doing something different from the norm!

We made it!

Look --- we're inside a cave!

....another climber.

What can I say? I love bugs! When I was little, my Grandma told me that these kinds of caterpillars (Wooly Bears) could forecast the outcome of the coming winter. Who knows? Maybe it's true.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Persuasive Writing

For my persuasive writing class, I need to write a paper (I know, right? So weird). After watching this video clip done by CBS news on anorexia, I think I've found my topic of choice (well, the wide topic, at least).

When I was in middle school, I decided to brush my teeth every day after lunch. So, I would excuse myself from my table of friends each day, go to the bathroom, brush, and then come back. They noticed the pattern, and decided to ask me, out of kindness, if I were making myself throw up after eating. I explained that I just brushed my teeth, and they were cool with that.

What amazing friends I had. If I actually had been bulimic, I swear they would have saved my life that day, and only because they cared enough to ask. I think everyone should have someone in their life who cares enough to ask, and who they care enough about to ask. Part of asking is being around them enough to know what to ask, and being enough of a friend to be able to ask in a way that won't offend, but only show how much you care.

Thank you Alicia and Holly, for being that kind of friend to me.