Shoes =/= Men

I wrote this essay for my English 150 class.

Ladies: let's get real.

Have you ever bought shoes, even though they didn't exactly fit you, or maybe they weren't made well? They're so adorable, you know you can't live without them. Did they then give you blisters? It hurts, and walking becomes a chore of infinite pain. However, if the wounds have time to heal, the pain will be replaced with calluses that prevent the chasm of hurt from swallowing you yet again. Love is not like that. Dating should not be approached like a shoe shopping spree: for one thing, a wardrobe of men is appalling. Shoes, unlike men, always wear out. Unlike men, shoes are, in fact, inanimate objects, and in love, "calluses" don't help but hinder.

It's fun and fulfilling to have a whole wardrobe of various shoes to go with various outfits, meant for various occasions. This is neither socially acceptable nor emotionally beneficial in romantic relationships: commitment is a core value in romance. The commitment a woman feels for a shoe may be intense, but it never will meet the level needed for marriage; at best the bond may reach that of serious dating, but no more.

You may say, "but, I'm not looking to get married. I just want to date a lot of boys: there's nothing wrong with that!" However, there is something wrong with that philosophy: it does not serve the end goal of dating, which is marriage. Yes, it is uncomfortable to acknowledge that dating leads to a relationship, which leads to marriage. Avoiding the discomfort, however, also entails avoiding the happiness of a successful marriage. Marriage without commitment is not a real marriage at all, but a parody of a much more beautiful institution

You can't afford to become too attached to a pair of shoes, because they never last. I expect every single pair of shoes I ever buy to either wear out or become a faux pas. However, I expect the man of my life to stay in my life forever, and never wear out or become a thing of the past. Of course, there seems to be a growing trend of marriages not lasting. It's hard to take a look around, see the number of failed marriages, and still believe: "I can trust this person. I can stop shopping now."

It is easy to let this mental complex bleed into our dating lives.

It's easy to say to ourselves, "What's wrong with shopping for shoes? Why settle for one man? Don't I want to have fun?" The answer to these questions is a resounding "no." In life, we sometimes need to do the hard thing, because it yields what we actually want. In this case, the easy thing is, in the end, empty.

Shoes have no brains; they have no hearts. Men, however, are a different story: they are people, too. As a woman who grew up with mostly sisters, it was a day of revelation when the thought crossed my mind, "Men have feelings, too." Embarrassed? Yes I am. True? Yes it is.

With the influence of romantic comedies in the perspective of Jennifer Lopez, or Meg Ryan, we gain the false notion that the emotions and uncertainty of a relationship are only experienced from the woman's side. Men know everything, and never worry nor doubt their abilities to, in the end, get the girl.

Of course, if you're Patrick Dempsey or Matthew McConaughey, that makes a lot of sense. Real men, on the other hand, are real people. They have doubts, and are probably just as emotional as we are. Without doubt, that means the companionship is better: where shoes don't care if they go or stay, work or fail, are loved or hated --- well, men care. There is an emotional investment, because they are emotional beings, too. Although a much more difficult, less linear relationship, it is, by far, better than shoes.

A love "callus" will not help you wear the "shoe" more comfortably. An emotional callus is detrimental. In this analogy, it's like never even trying on a new pair of shoes, no matter how cute they are. Even when the callused individual puts on a new pair, instead of enjoying them, all that is focused on is the previous formation of a callus, and the presence of it still.

It doesn't matter how long ago the callus was made, the effect will always be the same.  In love, it's best to have fresh feet. Letting previous relationship woes affect how the present relationship is viewed will invite all the reasons for the previous failures to fail the present one, even though the reasons don't have pertinence (per se).

Dating leads to marriage. For this reason, men are not shoes. Men are not collectible, because if you try to collect many, you don't really have even one. If you commit to each other, your relationship doesn't have to wear out, because real people last. However, relationships don't work with calluses. Dating and marriage follow a different set of rules than shopping for shoes, and following the rules for shoe shopping is detrimental in a romantic relationship.

It's simple, but so hard to practice: love is not like shopping for shoes.

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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

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.

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.

Yellow!

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).

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.

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.