Hello, Life. Welcome Back.

Why does the end of the semester mean endless hours upon hours sitting, sitting, sitting in the library: writing, writing, writing? In the last two weeks, I've written over 100 pages of academic research. That's 8 pages a day. Don't think that's a lot? Do you know how much reading, outlining, and revising 8 pages of research writing requires?

It's ridiculous.

That being said, I'm starting to get some of my grades back. All the 4pm to 2am torture sessions of sitting and writing and reading and sitting and writing and sitting have come to some fruition, and I believe I have been pretty successful.

Yes, I am bragging.

The semester is practically over. I have three finals left, and ample time to study for them and take them without sacrificing sleep, exercise, and human relationships in order to marginally finish within the time period I have been given. I feel relaxed. I will soon be completely done, and then: summer. Freedom!

FREEDOM!

Poe, The House of Usher, and the American Gothic.

Do you ever get frustrated with holdings at the library? I do. So, when I put this book on hold, I thought, "maybe I'll just buy it on amazon." Then I found that the lowest price was $80.35! I guess not!

10 Things I Will Not Miss When I Am No Longer a Student

1. Phenomenal academic power . . . itty, bitty living space.
2. 80 hour weeks, split 17 different ways.
3. Reading thousands of pages per week.  At gunpoint.
4. Oh, you want to go somewhere? Forget about it. You can't afford a car, fool!
5. Feeling guilty for not doing homework after 11pm.
6. Forgetting to eat.
7. Ten different teachers with ten slightly different policies about class.
8. "You must write an academic paper about something to do with this class. You also must feel passionately about it. If you do not feel passionately about your thesis, which must be completely unique and your own (despite the fact that yes, Shakespeare has been studied for centuries, and no, there is no possible way you can look at Shakespeare in a unique, passionate way, but I do require that, so if you can't, you fail, and yes, you absolutely can't, because like I said, it has literally (HA!) all been done before), then you must allow yourself to be publicly ridiculed at least eight times, preferably at the beginning of class, so we can make it last all two hours."
9. Your body is not your own. You have surrendered it to academia. You may think you can eat well and exercise all semester long, but the truth is, there is no freaking way you can manage that. So get used to the fluff, peach. And the gross feeling of being habitually sedentary, because that is not changing. No, ma'am.
10. WHAT DOES "MLA" EVEN STAND FOR?!

Homework Home Work Home-work.

We are not selfish people. We believe in giving of ourselves: our time, our talents, and our energy. This means helping the poor and sick, the emotionally weary.

We also are a family people. We believe that the family is sacred, and deserves much of our time, dedication, care, and most of all, our love.

There is an unfortunate problem in the American home that is making children sick. It is distracting parents from loving their children fully, correctly, and healthily.

It is the problem of gender roles in America.

It has been said, and it might be easy to misunderstand, that a woman’s place is in the home. The first go-to document on family is “The Family, a Proclamation to the World,” which states that “Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children.” The definition of the word “nurture” is “to feed and protect; to support and encourage; to bring up, train, educate.” Within the “nature vs nurture” debate, we do know, for certain, that environmental factors play heavily into the identity of an adult, varying greatly between identical twins (genetically, with one identity) who are different in personality, morality, and stability of character due to different environmental factors.

Now don’t get me wrong, I actually do believe that a woman’s place is in the home when that is her choice. If a woman decides to stay at home, then that is exactly where her place is. I’m not trying to say that’s wrong.

My mother nurtured me well. As an adult, I am autonomous: I care for myself in every way, I interact healthily with other people, I have goals, ambitions, and I am financially responsible. She fed me, protected me within reason(I was physically safe, and introduced to the less savory aspects of human life at a reasonable pace, at appropriate times). She supported me in my academics by expecting me to do well, and allowing me to do so. I can remember not even once when my mother helped me with a homework assignment. I guess I always knew I could ask, and it’s possible that she did and I just don’t remember it, but the important thing is, I always knew that she knew that I could do it, and therefore did not need her help. She had high expectations for me. So did my Dad, I guess, because he certainly didn’t ask me “Heidi, did you do your homework?” every evening at seven. He did, on the other hand, make sure I fed the dog.

I try to imagine if, for some reason, my mother had been waiting at the door when I came home from first grade with my first homework assignment, and after she hugged and kissed me, and told me she missed missed missed me, and plopped a plate of cookies with glass of milk in front of my seven year old self, she ripped open my backpack, and began doing my homework assignment aloud. Suppose, then, that this was not a 24-hour affair with insanity, but the actual method by which my mother was “supporting, encouraging, and educating” me.

Does this show love? Maybe. Or dependence. Dependence is easily confused with love: does my imaginary mother, here, love me, or need to live vicariously through me, by taking her role as mother to a point where it includes living my, her child’s, life? How is this supportive, encouraging, or educational? It in fact does the opposite. It takes away my freedom of self: my freedom to chose to be responsible, growing, and educated. It undermines my basic, human value.

That’s not to say that no children need support, encouragement, and education in the home. No way! I also happen to know that my mother and father have helped siblings of mine who needed a different kind of parent, a parent who inquires after academics, and they have been those parents, too.

But they still don’t DO the homework. And we are better people for it: because that is real love, and real love is the kind of love that makes real people in the end. Real people contribute to society in a meaningful way and are able to give real love, too. By “‘loving” your children in the way that takes away their opportunities to grow up, including homework, you take away their ability to eventually contribute meaningfully to society and participate in real love with everyone -- including parents, spouses, and their own children. How is that kind? How is that possibly what our Heavenly Father wished for his children-mothers to do when he prescribed their role as mothers to nurture? How is that nurturing?

It is not.

It is a false love. It is the kind of love that inhibits growth, and it needs to be checked. It needs to be squelched. It needs to be exterminated from our behavioral vocabulary.

Children have a right to do their own homework: mistakes and all.

I've Loved You So Long

I love listening to French. It is a beautiful langauge. This film is in French, and it is just beautiful to listen to. It is emotional. It is controversial. I'm not saying that I agree with what happened in it, but I appreciated the acting, the idea, the display of human emotion in a most extreme situation.

Murderers!

Every year, BYU hosts a murder mystery dinner theater. The events transpire and Springhaven lodge, and this year's dates are November 5th and 6th. Tickets will be available two weeks before the event -- and I'm going to be in it, folks!

Scarlett Johanessberg.

Guests are fed, entertained, and given the opportunity to figure out "whodunit." These are photos from the shoot we took for the poster. Someone else is putting the poster together; I just took the photos.

Angela Jolie.

The motives are many, and varied, and sordid. It will be quite the trial for the inspector to puzzle together. ...Maybe you could help?

Steven Snailburg.

Rad Pitt.

Julia Robertson.

GASP!

Robbie Pattison.

This is Travis. Except I call him Maverick (efy). Except, he's playing Edward Cullen. That's why there's glitter all over his face.

Also, I Forgot to Title This Before Publishing.

Sometimes I amaze even myself with my genuine absentmindedness.

Take the past two days, for example:

I am currently procrastinating a paper that I forgot about, which is due today, which is supposed to be about 5 pages. Brilliant, I know.

This morning, I remembered my work schedule as being in the farthest booth from the police station. I’m actually in the 2nd closest booth, but I didn’t remember that until I actually arrived at the farthest booth. Genius, I can hear you thinking it, I might as well say it.

Yesterday morning I had to leave work early for a guest lecturer, visiting from Calvin college, an author who we are studying in one of my classes. I have been excited for this lecture all week, but I totally forgot about it until my phone’s alarm went off 15 minutes before the lecture was scheduled to begin. I was still in my uniform and everything! So I rushed back, and made it just in the nick of time.

After class yesterday, I stayed on campus in the computer lab to do some work. I stayed there for about an hour when hunger finally overcame me, so I headed home. When I got there, I realized with a jolt that cleaning checks were tonight, plus the temple trip was tonight, and there was only an hour before take off! So I scrambled to do my cleaning (luckily our apartment is actually super clean, and the work needed for cleaning checks is basically a sanitation process that may or may not be visibly noticeable), changed into temple appropriate attire, and met for the carpool on time.

I ate something, too, but apparently not enough, because I got a low blood sugar while in the temple, which is not exactly embarrassing or anything.

I’m too young for Alzheimer’s disease, right?

I Am a Rock Star.

Mark: How old are you?
Me: (Rolls eyes) I'm 23.
Mark: (Surprised) Oh!
Me: (a little irritated. because 23 shouldn't be surprising.) How old are YOU?
Mark: (taken aback) I'm 23.
Me: Well you know what they say about being 23.
Mark: Yeah, nobody likes you.
Me: (Realizing I just found my new best friend).

Do I LOOK Like a Doormat to You?

I never cease to be amazed and disheartened by the selfish people who populate this world.

Remember a few years back when Max Lucado wrote this amazingly sappy book about puppets who put stars and black spots on each other, and the book was called, "You Are Special?" I think he should write a sequel called, "You are NOT Special." Maybe if people read it, they'd realize that their colossal sense of entitlement is entirely mis-fostered, and people are NOT going to give them special treatment, because frankly, they have done nothing to deserve it!

Oz. Or Rather, Home.

Look at all of the shapes!

Again, shapes. And happy graduates.

The picture above is in color.

Can you see the observation dome reflected in the JFSB window?

I love circles.

Alive.

I know that worms are supposed to be disgusting (and bugs in general, I guess). But look at the texture of this wet worm, and the shape of his curl, and the lines of his body, and the color of his innards!

"I love to see the temple..."

"Down in the valley, valley so low- hang your head over, hear the wind blow! "

"Photograph" literally means "portrait of light."

I hope Brittany all the best as she serves in the Everett, Washington mission!

Whoever thought that ants could be so lovely?

They look like candies... candies with legs. They can walk down your throat.

"May we ever be exemplary in our homes and faithful in keeping all of the commandments that we may harbor no hidden wedges but rather remember the Savior's admonition: 'By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.'"

-President Thomas S. Monson, The Peril of Hidden Wedges

"Directive."

-Eve, Walle

"You electrify my life. Let's conspire to ignite all the souls that would die just to feel alive."

-Muse, Starlight

Miss Iris.

As I was walking to church this morning, I saw this beautiful iris, and it was catching the sun in such a lovely way, I knew I needed to take some pictures.

I'm not exactly sure why, but this kind of flower, especially the purple ones, remind me of my mother.

So lovely!

I love the lines and texture.

Hey Peach.

It kind of looks like lava.

Texture.

You Say "Grow Up," I Say "Throw Up"

Ever wonder what would happen if you put a whole handful of those cinnamon flavored candies in your mouth, all at once? Stop wondering and start watching.

Friends+Caves=Fun.

Here is our whole group. Aren't we pretty?
Oh and here's one more who decided to come along for the ride. He's pretty, too, right?
We found the lost boys' hideout. Watch out alien invaders, we know where to hide.
It's complete with bedroll. We'll even be comfortable when the aliens come. That's not what they were expecting, I expect.

Katherine was very graceful, not to mention brave.
King Jake is making an announcement. The announcement is, "I am King!"

This cave was not small, as far as caves are concerned. As far as rooms are concerned, it's pretty small, actually.
Bergen found a fossil!

...and I found a bug. Of course.

Ode to Betsy

GIVEN:

1. Betsy=one of my very best friends.

2. Connor=I met him moments before this.

3. This=Awesome.

4. Betsy=Awesome.

PROOF:

5. Awesome=This=Connor

6. Connor=Awesome

7. Betsy=Awesome=Connor

8. Betsy=Connor

...True Love.

Oh yeah also

9. Betsy=Connor, and Connor=just met, and Betsy=best friend, so

10. Connor=Best friend.

...Friends at first sight!

11. If Betsy+Connor=True Love, and

12. Connor=Friends at first sight,

then

13. Betsy+Connor=love at first sight!

"I'm soooOOOooo Smart."

BYU Boys....!

He couldn't see me, but I could definitely see him! He had been doing this for long enough for me to think "Sheesh, I wish I had my camera," and then "Oh I actually have it with me," and then decide to actually get it out, and take the video... so he was pretty much just asking for it.

Mr. Maeser

All I did was increase the contrast for this one. You know, people are like pictures. Sometimes they are very uninteresting, because of how they photograph their lives. They neglect the contrast, they dwell in dolor. When you ask them, "What are you like?" They may even begin their reply with, "OH! I'm very boring."

That's not necessary.

I like the lines, simplicity, and contrast this black-and-white photo has. I've noticed that I often try to make my life fit into a line, or set of lines: I'll compare my life to a book I've read, or a movie I've seen, or the life of a friend or family member. The picture gets messy. It's a bad idea.

Making common things abstract is a fun goal in photography. It's also a life perspective valued by the transcendentalists.

This is a leaf on a willow tree.

Karl G. Maeser said that if you drew a chalk circle around him, and made him give his word of honor not to leave it, he would die before stepping out of the circle. I say: what a moronic thing to promise.