The Feeding Trough

Open Doors

2010-09-26T11:30:00.000-07:00

Drive from Rock Creek to Phillipsburg.

I'm kind of embarrassed about my last post, but I guess I had to come out of my shell sometime. The results were negative. Such is life. I opened another door and it closed on me. At least I know I will never revisit that part of my life again. I learned a wonderful thing this time around. While waiting for the results I started to wonder why knowing such a thing would have any impact on me right now in my life. I'm an adult (most of the time) and I have been shaped and molded already and I am pretty sure I will remain the same person for quite some time. Of course I will get a little more aged, a little more cynical, a bit more hopeful, a lot more real, hopefully crazier, and more grounded, but I don't see my values and personality changing much from what it is today. So, why do I need to know who my biological father is? I don't really need it anymore. And that is what donned on me this month. This topic brings out the little girl in me. It is something I have wanted to know forever, but it doesn't really mean the same thing to me now that it did then. It's not good to hold onto things. It's so hard to let go, but we can't force in our minds what we want so badly for our every day lives. Everything happens for a reason. Life is a constant character-building process. Every day is a hard day, but we wouldn't keep on going if it weren't for those little things that make it absolutely beautiful. Sometimes I wish things were different, but I wouldn't be me if I hadn't lived the life I did up until now. I can't forget that love is everywhere around me. I forget that sometimes when I'm focused on what I want more than what I already have. Unfortunately, it takes a beating to come back again.

Facebook isn't just social porn

2010-09-10T08:55:00.000-07:00

I'm going to keep this short and sweet, but I've got some news I can't just keep with me for too long. After three years of finally accepting I will never find my father, the issue has resurfaced. If any of you know my past, I went through a similar episode a few years ago. It's all sticky, but the man I found then turned out not to be my father so I dropped the issue. It hurt. It was hard. But it did give me a sense of closure. I no longer had to put his name in google or some people search website. That is very comforting. Well, without effort on my part, the other man who could potentially be my father has been found and I'm almost ninety-nine percent sure he shares my genetics. I will feel stupid if he isn't because I am so sure, but right now I am sitting at my house waiting for a paternity test from the UPS man. (or woman, cough) For my own sake I'll keep it at that. Stay tuned...

Small encounters

2010-08-16T20:43:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had somewhat of a strange encounter with another human being. I was leaving work at the Hob Nob which requires me to walk through an alleyway behind a bunch of restaurants on the hip strip. It's very low traffic, is what I mean. In this brief amount of time I was in the alleyway a stranger found his way to me. He was a mess. Dirty, white Hanes t-shirt, scruff and scabs, ripped up baggy jean shorts, and no shoes. He wasn't a stereotypical hip Missoula transient. He just looked like a lost soul. He came up to me, mumbling something about treatment, tobacco, and money. With a little patience I figured out he wanted a dollar fifty so he could make enough change to buy chewing tobacco before he entered himself into rehab. In this moment he started bawling. A flood of tears to the ground bawling. There's a small table with two chairs in the small alleyway for the cooks and waitresses to hang out during break times. I told him to sit down. He told me about all of the drugs he had been doing and all of the alcohol he had been drinking. It was a little overwhelming, but I just listened to him as he spilled out everything he had in him to me. He didn't have an ounce of happiness left in him. At first I thought he was high on something, but I think after a while I realized it was his fear and anxiety from being sober. I had never met someone so overwhelmed by reality. He said something heavy to me before we parted ways I had trouble letting sit in my brain yesterday. Something that made me totally uncomfortable, but something that also made me so grateful for my mind, my soul, and all of those around me. He said he wasn't addicted to alcohol or drugs, but more addicted to the not feeling the way he feels when he is sober. A little much for a Sunday afternoon, but something that did happen to me. Something I couldn't ignore. We parted ways and in the end, all I could really give him was the rest of the money he needed to buy some chewing tobacco.

A little privacy please

2010-08-09T15:20:00.000-07:00

I've been bombarded by Asian hackers and I haven't felt right about writing for a while. I miss it, sadly. I just need to find a new spot. I've got a lot of things going on up here and out there. I'm happy and well, full of life, starting a photography business, connecting with old friends, and taking a turn in my life. My thoughts are still abundant as ever and I'm still just a little crazy for my own good. I will write shortly. Once I figure out what to do about my new vulgar Asian friends. For now, my best blessings.

Gotta Have Faith

2010-05-27T11:11:00.000-07:00

August 16, 1995. Ashley is baptized Mormon.

Fourteen years ago I allowed a couple of young adult Mormon missionaries enter my home and a few months after that day I was baptized Mormon. I did this all on my own and practiced the religion for the next four years. It seems corrupt in a way, but my mom allowed it and she always kept my head in check. I was a good practicing Mormon. I attended service every Sunday and made it to most of the required social functions. I dove deeply into the church and made it a part of my every day life. I read scriptures daily from the Book of Mormon, prayed in the morning, afternoon, and at night, and I even attempted to hold a weekly family home evening with my family who are definitely not Mormon. There was a time when I was going to quit YMCA soccer because the games were held on Sunday, but my mom talked me out of it. This is what I mean by her keeping my head in check. She said, "If soccer makes you happy, would God be mad at you for doing something that makes you happy on His day?" It made enough sense and I continued to play soccer. The further the religion seeped into my daily life, the more judgmental I became of my mom's and my family's daily lives. I know having some preteen lecture her mother on why it is bad to go to the grocery store on Sunday or the importance of praying on a daily basis must have been difficult. I will be forever grateful to my mom for letting me continue to be a part of something that has had such a large effect on my life today.

I say that because I am fascinated by faith. I am no longer faithful to any type of religion, but I know a lot about different types of religion and tend to study up on it as much as I can. I enjoy talking to people about faith and what drives them to believe in something they will never see in their physical lives. I left the church when I was a freshman in high school. It was a mixture of things, but I do remember the exact moment when I thought the whole thing was a bunch of hogwash and I quit going to seminary (early morning lessons before school) and eventually quit going to church altogether. I use the term hogwash because I did have negative feelings toward the church when I left. That has sort of simmered now and I treat the whole experience as an early introduction to my sociological side project experiments. My cue to leave was when I asked a question and the only answer they could give me was to have faith, pray, and your question will be answered. I guess I started to think more for myself and I just couldn't believe this answer was quite good enough. I felt like it was an easy way out of answering my question. And the more questions I asked, the more I received the same type of answer. I had to go, but I still try to keep up with some of the families who took me under their wing at the time. I met some truly good people during those times.

I don't think I will ever be the type of person to attach myself to any type of religion or faith for that matter, but I will always have a great respect for those who can do it. Faith is an unbelievable thing. People dedicate their entire lives to religion, to something they truly believe in without having to have any sort of physical evidence that it is real. That is astonishing to me. Good or bad? I don't know. I can't answer that. Because how can you judge someone for believing in something that truly makes their lives better. It is real to someone else and they believe they are living for something and I can't say there is anything wrong with that. I wish I had that at times. I can't say I believe we are going to a higher place at the end of all of this, but it wouldn't be so bad to believe that there's something else after this life. If I were to tie myself to any sort of faith it would be Buddhism. None of it has been on purpose, but I find myself indulging in the simpler things in life and appreciating everything by the day. I don't know a lot about Buddhism, but from what I've read and discussed it seems I tend to unknowingly practice the ideals behind this faith.

The reason I got into a religious mood is because something happened to me the other day that pulled me back to reality once more. Everything does happen for a reason and everything can't be so coincidental. And that, my friends, is such a spiritual statement. I can't get around it. I can't deny that I have a little bit of faith lingering inside of me. I forget this as I am living day by day trying to survive, but it takes a small "coincidence" for me to start appreciating the 'higher existence' that hovers around me.

I was walking home the other day after debating for a while whether to stay out with a friend or curling up with a book at my house for a nice night's rest before early morning work. (I run into some pretty huge predicaments, I know) I really wanted to keep hanging out, but my responsible-self kicked in and I ended up walking home earlier then expected. On this walk I ran into a person I haven't seen or talked to in almost four years. I have sent off one letter, but I never heard back. This person is my cousin, Johnny. He will always be more of a big brother to me, though. We connect on a level that I don't have with any other member in my family. We are wanderers and thinkers. He taught me to play sports and he always spent that extra amount of time with me.

Johnny ran into a bit of trouble a few years back that took him away and it's been tough staying in touch. He is an incredible person and I can only say that I have thought about him every day since the incident that took him away from our everyday world. But he is back and I feel like we will have a lot more to talk about four years later. I'm no longer the little cousin and he doesn't seem that much older to me anymore. And because of the circumstances of the incident, I don't think I would have known he was in living in Missoula currently unless I had run into him on that random night. This whole happening made me question my existence and faith once more. I'm once again diving deep here, but life will hit you in these small ways and it is always good to take a step back and realize everything is sometimes bigger than it seems.

Rocky Balboa

2010-05-11T10:02:00.001-07:00

Casey Knapp. Just about my favorite person rockin' it in this world. He has it figured out more than most people.

A dear friend left me today. He has been my rock all year long and someone I have confided in for the last three years even when we don't live in the same place. I said good-bye for now to Casey Knapp. He has been there for me in every way possible in the last eight months and I don't know how I would have made it through the winter without him. I am so thankful for the friendships you know will last a lifetime. Mr. Knapp is a beautiful man with a beautiful soul. You will be missed, my love.

And while I mourn my friend's departure, I shall run today and start my regimen leading to a half-marathon in mid-July. I bought a running watch which will help me train and see my progress in the next nine weeks. I figure since I can't afford to buy a membership to a gym I can bring the treadmill numbers to me. I can monitor my pace, distance, time, and calories with this mighty GPS watch. It can even track my routes and it will keep all my info tucked away in it's gaudy blue body. I do admit I like it. I can save all the history, too, and put it on my computer. I can pretend to be a machine for a little while and watch myself transform. Ha- the small things that get me excited. I'll keep you updated on my progress as a running machine.

And, last but not least, Day 2 of quitting it. So far successful. Jittery and anxious, but successful. I know running will be a saving grace in my times of irritable anxiousness/panic attacks. I hope I don't literally bite anyone's head off during this process.

Oh, and I almost forgot about my dating life I was so adamantly going to write about. The stories are there, but the superstitions are high.

No One Likes A Quitter

2010-05-10T19:34:00.000-07:00

A fighter.

I am doing something marvelous today. Something scary. Something adventurous. And something courageous. I have only told myself I would do it at some point, 'when I felt ready,' but I just don't ever think that time is going to come. I think I just have to do it. This will be about the hardest personal goal I will ever achieve. Harder than quitting drinking. Harder than graduating from college. Harder than running for an hour or getting up at 6 a.m. five days a week. I haven't attempted it in over three years and I have been at it for about six years. I told myself when I turned 25 I would stop it. I am one of the last of my friends still at it. I am embarrassed of it. It makes me slow. It lingers in my brain if I haven't had it. It is my escape from social activities. It was an excuse to feel and look cool. A starving artist who is only starving more because of it. I am sick of it. I am ready to be rid of it. What is it?

Love is Sacred

2010-04-15T10:12:00.000-07:00

I've got something called my taxes to finish up, but I wanted to quickly post this article and comment on it later. A good friend of mine from years back took a very courageous stand against her father. It is very moving.

Please read!

'Sex in the Valley'

2010-04-02T06:54:00.000-07:00

Fiftieth wedding anniversary of a couple in Oklahoma. Both were born on the fourth of July and got married on the fourth July. Adorable.

My friend Clark treats dating like a science. A literal science. I've known Clark for a long time and he had a lot of catching up to do once he started thinking about girls about two years ago. He never dated in high school and was so focused on meditation for several years that it distracted him from thinking about relationships or women. Anyway, when Clark did start to date it was interesting to hear how he went about it. He forced himself to ask a girl out every week. He was rejected more than accepted, but he is now the 'master of smooth.' And if you know Clark, he is definitely not smooth. Gangly, awkward, and brainy is more like it. All of what makes him him, of course, and all reasons why I love him so much, but I guess I just never expected old Clark to break out of his shell and be decently good with women. He honestly would keep tabs on how many women he could get to go to dinner or a movie with him and how many flat out ran for the hills. When he got really good at keeping tabs, he started to come up with specific numbers for how many calls was appropriate before you give up, how many calls before it was her turn to call back, etc. All stuff we probably shouldn't do for human integrity's sake, but because my mathematical genius friend (he is currently getting his PhD in math, all paid for by the UM) thinks scientifically and statistically it is perfect for him. I think dating should be more natural and his approach will never be my approach, but if someone is willing to record data on dating habits and it doesn't bother them any, I say go for it.

I guess I have been thinking about this lately because since I've entered a more active dating world, it is all sort of mathematical. I guess because I fell in love at such a young age I imagined all my relationships would be as heavy as my first love. Nope. It's kind of a jumble. And it's very harmless on the mind. Actually, there isn't a whole lot of thinking involved. And that is why I guess we all might think of dating more mathematically. Emotions aren't involved. I mean, a flame might spark and that is always wonderful, but even then, it's still only a spark and a reason to see that person more which turns it into more of a statistic in your dating life. I've tried to put emotions aside for once and just roll with meeting new and different types of people. Hipsters, outdoorsmen, musicians, etc. I probably sound promiscuous, but just to keep me from thinking about it, these are just dates. Nothing more. Keep in mind, I've honestly gone 3 years without seeing anyone so this dating in my 20s is fairly new to me. I'm only 24.

I'll keep you updated with more specific stories on my dating life. I already have a couple. The idea of turning this into a sort of "Carrie Bradshaw" blog for a while intrigues me. My favorite thing to talk about with friends is relationships and people. It's perfect. It's on my mind. Why not, eh? Wow. I'm really going to put myself out there. I guess I am sort of taking a 'Clark approach' to the whole matter. I'm just journaling and he is jotting numbers. Maybe we have something going here. A book in the making, perhaps?

Man Eater

2010-03-31T18:40:00.000-07:00

I am finally learning the ropes of dating. I've always been someone who fixates on one guy from afar or nearby and in some ways feel like I am "cheating" on someone if my eye goes elsewhere even if we aren't together. I know. It's kind of creepy. I am finally dropping that attitude. I am a quarter of a century old and I haven't been with someone in over three years. Part of that is due to me figuring out myself and part of it is I have trouble trusting men for various, understandable reasons. I wish I could let that go, but I really think it will be something my future significant other will have to understand will always be a part me.

I am writing this blog only to vent a little negative energy that has been sucking my soul dry. I was recently burned by someone I truly cared about. I guess they say don't date your friends for a reason. An old high school friend and I began a relationship in December that lasted until about mid-February. It was a fabulous time. I haven't felt so good with someone for a very long time while we were dating. He had to leave back to Seattle for a while stating he would be back in a week. A week turned into two, three, four, etc. until he cut off all forms of communication with me. I haven't heard from him in almost a month and I have no idea what happened. All I want is an email or a phone call saying what happened. Sometimes things don't work out, but I deserve an explanation from someone I thought cared about me at the time. It is driving me a little crazy and only makes me feel used and convenient for his two month stay in Missoula.

This relationship has made me really want to get out there and meet more people. I have to realize I am older now and my said soul-mate will not be waiting for me at my front porch to sweep me off my feet and spend the rest of our lives together. I think most of my future relationships will be like my relationship with my friend. It did not end well which can be avoided through honest communication, but I think it's high time I started spending time with different men. It may not work out, but trying is the only way I'm going to get there. I have gone out on coffee dates in the past month and I have given out my phone number to a few men. Hell, I even responded to an interesting craigslist ad (embarrassing) and went on a hike with a guy I had never seen or met in my life. That option did not work out for me, but it didn't hurt me to try. Putting my shame aside, I was really proud of myself in that moment. I want to be more honest with my feelings and telling people how they affect me. I've been hurt too much. I'm a good person. I deserve to be loved, too. I just can't expect it all to come my way. I've got to try a little, too.

So, all said, and probably one of my more personal blog posts I've ever written, I'm welcoming my said to the world of men. Look out.

No Longer A House Rat

2010-03-15T14:56:00.000-07:00

A man just making a living. We all have to do it somehow.

I have to say, the longer I live the more my life turns into a daily episode of Seinfeld or Curb Your Enthusiasm. It might be that I pay attention to the awkward human interaction and happenings around me more than most, but I just can't seem to go a day without a painfully awkward moment in my life. Yesterday I started my job at the Old Post-- realize how pissed I was when I woke up at 5 in the morning puking my guts out. I got a case of 'the food poisoning' and I had to battle with it at work. There was no way I was going to call in sick on my first day of work. So the hour that it takes me to shower, dry, and straighten my hair plus whatever else I do to get ready, took me about two hours. I heard whatever wasn't pleased in my stomach sitting in what sounded and felt like an active volcano about to explode. I made it on time and thought I could get away without mentioning my food poisoning issue, but because I had to sneak away about three times to use the bathroom so suddenly I thought I should at least share with my trainer what was going on with me. She seemed a little grossed out and apparently has never experienced the wrath of a 24-hour food poisoning bug so I'd say she was a bit confused by it all, but she seemed to understand. I stayed for the entire shift and kept a smile the entire time. Actually, I want to give myself a huge pat on the back for how well I handled the whole thing. When I got home yesterday I was mainly bed-ridden. I only ate saltines and drank a ginger ale soda, both of which came back up an hour later. I feel better today. I just have the aftermath of puking all day the day before. A little weak and still feel queasy at the site of most food. Yummy.

So, in other good news, forty plus applications, ten or so interviews, and three months of bi-polar disorder later, I finally landed a job. A decent one at that. I guess it all depends on what you consider decent, but I will be working as a real server and hopefully making some mad tips at the Old Post. I've got to work on that smile of mine. I've been thinking about practicing looking myself in the eye and talking to myself in the mirror so maybe I'll sneak some smiles in there somewhere. If you can't look yourself in the eye, can you really justify looking someone else in the eye? Try it. It's not that easy.

I've had some interesting encounters and happenings in the last couple months. I feel like I should write an entire blog on my many interactions with potential employers. I just haven't had the awkwardly observational sarcastic writer in me lately. It has been a ride looking for a job. It's hard when you know you are qualified for jobs like dish washing at an old person's home, but for whatever reason you still aren't good enough. And you know about 100 other people are applying for the same low end job. When I applied for a counter position at the Bridge the girl told me after the interview that 70 people applied for the same job within two days of a craigslist posting. It's brutal out there, so my advice for the day and for the next couple of months is keep your job. It's hard to get yourself up every day without any real plan but to subject yourself to many different employers around Missoula with giant doe eyes and a desperate plea for help. It does a bit of damage to the ego. But, it also shows you how you handle truly rough times. And, although I have been living on food stamps and borrowing money for the first time from my family, I can say I kept my head above water. I did have major mood swings and only a few people in my life had to deal with that for which I am very sorry. Now I just have to play catch up.

Home

2010-02-21T12:04:00.000-08:00

This is my roommate of 3 years, Douglas Brinkerhoff. What started out as a two people needing a place to live in Missoula, turned into two people searching for places to live together in years to come. This year I really took notice of how much this guy means to me. He's seen me through a lot of personal growth in the time that I have known him and I truly believe he has been a part of that. For whatever reason, this guy is family to me.

My real family. We may not be perfect, but I don't think I could ask for better sidekicks.

It's hard keeping the spirit alive when you are unemployed and lack a stable routine. I'm keeping my head above water, but the longer this goes on, the more inadequate I feel. This last week has been the hardest of them all since my quest to find a job started. I feel like the light shone down (literally... it's a really nice day today) on me today and I am ready to pick it all up again. Start anew, as they say..... somewhere. It has only been a week of me ignoring the things that make me happy like eating healthy and running. It's funny how much it shows when I don't maintain these aspects of my life.

And with that I just want to say I think every year has some sort of theme. Last year it was fitness and health, and this year it is steering toward family. I think a big reason I came back to Missoula was to be closer to my mom and my brother and everyone else that knows me oh so well. Home is important. I'll keep it short and less spiritual before all of you who may think I have become a born again Christian. My friends wrote this song a couple of days ago and I wanted to share it because I think it's about something we all take for granted or forget about sometimes.

Ladies and gentleman, Travis Sehorn and Russel Daniels

Judging Books By Covers

2010-02-12T09:27:00.000-08:00

Jack McKee, my mom's father, in Philipsburg, Montana.

William Riley McKee. He'd be my great-great grandfather. He was sent to the Deer Lodge Prison for bad-mouthing the war and hence why my family is from the Pintler area. I don't think 1357 is a date.

George McKee and Mildred McKee, my great grandparents, Philipsburg, Montana.

I think we take our appearances for granted. I guess there's not that much to think about and maybe it shouldn't matter, but I think human creation is fascinating. We are animals. First and foremost, we are here to create. We grow up learning the ropes of survival and once we are set out on our own we start to look for a mate who we will hopefully have babies with and keep the family line intact.

I feel like my maternal instinct has grown from a small aroma candle flame to a full-blown seance. I'm not interested in having a baby right now nor am I ready to have a baby, but for the past couple of years I've felt that warm, tingly feeling around babies. It's the female in me. Women were having children well before my age not that long ago so it makes sense, but it's a little frustrating being a 24-year-old woman in the postmodern age of feminism and independence. I'm all for it, but my biological side is in a tizzy. All this lead up is to hopefully share with you why I am fascinated by the product of human fornication. I'm trying to be scientific. The fact that two people can create one little being who shares half of both their genes is mind-blowing.

I think part of my fascination could be related to the fact that I don't know half of me. At least biologically. I am mom's daughter for sure, but I've always had that interest in my other side. There are certain physical attributes I know don't come from anywhere on my mom's side. Growing up this was tough on a teenager's brain, but I can say two years ago this was all put to rest in a peaceful and satisfying way. That's another blog story I won't get into right now.

The reason I bring all of this up is because I went to a funeral of a McKee relative yesterday in Deer Lodge, Montana. You see, until recently, we haven't known any of our McKee relatives. My mom's father, who was an only child, died when she was very young which made it hard to stay in touch with non-intermediate family which essentially didn't exist after her father died. Anyway, my mom is the queen of genealogy and through her research and interest in family she found cousins recently she never met growing up. For the first time in my life I was surrounded by the McKee side of my family. I discovered that my mom, my brother, and I take after these people. It was oddly comforting. I know I look like my mom, but she's the only person of resemblance I have in my life. She doesn't look like my grandma or anyone on that side, and she obviously doesn't take after her stepfather and his family. I guess that is why I say we take our appearances for granted. Being able to place your origin is important. It's not everything, but it does play a role in our lives. I feel like it is similar to two people who come from the same country meeting in a different country who bond instantly because of their roots. It's simply comforting.

Mirando

2010-02-02T12:02:00.001-08:00

San Felipe coast at low tide.

Rocky mountains on the eastern coast of Mexico. My hair is so dirty it will stay up with a robe tie.

Largest cacti in the world reside about 20 miles south of San Felipe. We got to see 'em. And we found a coyote skull.

Pacific ocean at Playa Saldamando which is north of Ensenada. My friend Casey is nestled in the center left. We camped here. Not on the rocks.

So, it has been a little while. I find when I'm more in a rut it is easier for me to write. It's funny how things work out like that.

I've been experiencing somewhat of a whirlwind for the past month and a half or so. I've road-tripped through almost every western state in the United States and hiked in the mountains of Mexico, rekindled an old flame, and wrote many different cover letters describing my many different talents from photographer to baker to dishwasher to office assistant. So long story short, I traveled to Mexico, I am on the verge of dating someone, and I am looking for a job. Not too shabby.

All I can say is you don't really know how hard it is to find a job until you actually have to find one. My problem is I'm too overqualified for some jobs and unqualified for others. I don't have a happy medium. And there generally aren't any people seeking photographers ANYWHERE much less in Montana. I'm still in high spirits, though, and I think that is due to watching a dear friend of mine scramble and experience the highs and lows of countless rejection by potential employers. I know it's going to be hard. And there isn't really anything I can do about it, but keep trying. So that's what I'm going to do. If you know of any job openings, give me a shout because I'll do just about anything. Except work at Food For Thought or any sort of escort service. I'm cutting those out.

What Happened?

2009-12-13T17:05:00.000-08:00

My mother in her youth

Light-tower expedition

Infamous annual cabin trip

"A person who longs to leave the place where he lives is an unhappy person." - Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Have you ever thought about how we long for the old days, yet we have a constant desire to progress into our futures? Nostalgia versus Betterment. I've wrapped my head around these two thoughts separately, but I don't think I've ever put them together. I was honestly a little embarrassed when I did.

Just think about it. Why do we constantly try to relive the past and at the same time search for something else? I think this goes back to our troubles with living in the moment. Why is it that we can only see what's behind us or in front of us, but never what's right there? Are we ever content? It's almost selfish to be nostalgic and desperate for change and I think that is why I felt a hint of shame when I put the two together.

Last year I wanted nothing more than to get out of Missoula. In that time I realized wishing to leave wasn't going to do me any good- instead of blaming a place on my unhappiness maybe I should hold myself accountable. That's why I like the quote I posted above. I think there are places better fit for everyone, but if we are unsatisfied with ourselves none of this matters. I would have lost it in Oklahoma if I didn't fix my problem in Missoula because I don't think my problem was ever with the small community of Missoula, Montana, but a problem I had with myself. And, here I am again soul-searching in Missoula after time spent away. And although I am frustrated because I don't know what is ahead of me, I'm not going to let my thoughts of nostalgia and betterment take over the moment I am living in because nothing is ever really that bad, is it? Thoughts of the past and future are inevitable. We should try to slim them down a bit. I think they only encourage us to blame our discontentment on the places we live in and the people who surround us. I'm honestly sick of people talking about their desires to leave a place they all keep coming back to for some reason. 'It all comes within,' I say in the most hippie-like, Earthy voice I have in me.

I do think it is important for everyone to explore and live in new places, but sometimes we get stuck in a place and we might just have to roll with it. Get out of town, try new things, and try to remember what is important to you. The good times were great and there are many wonderful things to come... Keeping all of that in mind, remember the present before time gets the best of you.

It's Up!

2009-12-08T11:10:00.001-08:00

Ben Prez, Mt. Sentinel, 2008

I finally did it! I have a website put together. I designed everything myself through a website specifically geared toward artists and photographers. My friend Russel told me about it. I have to pay a cheap monthly fee to keep it running, but now I don't have to know computer language, coding and all of that fun hooha. I'm pretty pleased with it. Let me know what you think!

http://ashleyrhianphotography.com

And to end, here is my new favorite song. It reminds me of sitting in a log cabin in the snowy woods with a friend drinking some hot, wintery beverage. Ahhhh.

December 1, 2001

2009-12-01T17:34:00.000-08:00

Hil and I a couple years ago.

Graduating, 2003

YMCA soccer, fifth grade

Before I did any other business on my computer this morning I made sure I wrote my friend Hilary, who is the U.K. right now, an email celebrating the anniversary of December 1st. Eight years ago today I had one of the best times of my life with some of the pals I'll call my 'lifers.' (People I still have managed to maintain a close relationship with over the years... I feel special now because I can actually say years and it is legitimate. Legitimate enough, anyway)

Let's go back a bit.

Hilary is the person I have been friends with the longest in my life. I can't even remember how we met, unfortunately. Maybe playing YMCA soccer? Either way, we were a goofy pair. We had good times playing sports, sharing lockers (from elementary to the end of high school), chasing boys, going on near fatal outdoors trips with family friends (KOGAN FAMILY), and so on. She left me for another country, but I think, separated and without words for years, we will still act as if we saw each other yesterday the next time we cross paths. It's one of those relationships. We had a lot of good, clean, memorable fun. Dorky, but very fun.

So, back to our anniversary. During our junior year we were allowed to venture outside our homes on weekend nights. We decided to make the most of our new freedom. Keep in mind, a lot of this blog is written sarcastically. Anyway, Hilary didn't have a curfew, I think mine was 1 a.m. or something like that, and we wanted to live it up. Also, keep in mind we didn't drink or party or really associate with a rowdy crew so it was always up to the imagination. (That is not written sarcastically) We were pretty darn good at it. Being good, I mean. On this particular night we decided to roll all of our extraordinary ideas into one big adventure. It started out with a late night hike up the M. At this point Hilary and I started hanging out with boys so we invited our two good friends and brothers, Lewis and Clark. (no joke) We listened to a little Third Eye Blind in Hilary's absurdly long, white station wagon and made our way to the trail head behind the university. Back in the day, Missoula used to have mounds of snow this time of year so the trail was packed and icy. We made our way up and sat on the M for an hour or so, contemplating the troubles of the world and life, of course. After one of our first attempts at being intellectuals, we slid on our butts down the trail. Why? Because we could I guess. Back in the car, we decided to make our way to Playfair Park, near Sentinel High School. The four of us decided to wrestle each other, covering ourselves from head to foot in snow and mud from the field. We were freezing, but it was fun. Faces covered in mud and taking in the moment, we thought it was appropriate to take a stab at group meditation. We sat knee to knee, hand to hand, eyes closed, and exhaled all OMMs necessary for five or six yoga classes.

Meditation session was a hit, but the night was still oh so young. We decided to clean up a bit. How did we decide to clean up? No, not by going to a house and showering, but driving across town toward the Bitterroot to Blue Mountain Road where there is a remote river perfect for washing the mud off of youngsters like ourselves. Into the river we went. Yes, we jumped into the river in the middle of winter to wash off. If I can remember right, I think ice chunks were forming on the banks of the river. Didn't stop us. Living life on the edge one weekend at a time. You would think we were the ones doing drugs.

Clothes like cardboard and teeth chattering, we were probably on the brink of catching hypothermia. But were we done making fools of ourselves? Not quite yet. We decided we were hungry. Of course. There wasn't much money between the four of us, maybe a few dollars or so. This was Lewis' chance to share with us the sly ways of the mooching world. We drove to Denny's, ordered a hot drink, and waited for customers to leave unfinished plates. We ate off the unfinished plates. No one said a thing. We looked like a bunch of kids who just came out of months spent living in the woods. I don't think anyone wanted to say anything to us. Hilary and I quit scavenging once we witnessed Clark and Lewis eating some orange, gooey sauce disgustingly sitting in gel-like form on some cold chicken. I think that's when the reality of what were doing hit us. They took it just a little too far. Mozzarella sticks, fries, maybe, but orange sauce on Denny's chicken just can't be right, even if served right out of the kitchen.

We decided to end one of our first nights of freedom at Denny's. We were burnt out. Hilary drove us home and that was that. I can't lie and say this was the only night we did stuff like this because I have many more high school memories full of creative touches to entertaining oneself, but I think this was the beginning of it all. It all being how I'll remember those four years of my life. Being too serious is for losers anyway, right?

Reconciled Roots

2009-11-27T10:57:00.000-08:00

Grandma and Aunt Teri with the dinner.

Uncle John taking the 4-wheeler out.

Cousin Matt deep-frying a turkey.

Cousin Jimmy and me.

Yesterday was one of the best Thanksgiving days I've had in a really long time. I think it is partially due to the fact that I have a cousin who has a 2-year-old daughter and another cousin who is eight months pregnant. It's funny what babies will do to a family. All tension and common lifestyle disagreements are thrown out the window and the focus is on the new generations to come.

Baby aroma is not the only reason for a high-spirited holiday yesterday. I think things are finally turning back to normal and everyone is getting a little older and less apt to jump on one another. Whatever has been lingering around in the air for the past couple of years seems to have flown out the window. I'm thankful for that. I also think it's refreshing to realize where you come from sometimes. Whether or not you agree with each other, you still come from the same place and share the same people in your lives until the end of time. It's nice to explore the roots that don't visit you every day.

And to end, I'm going to give a 2009 Top Reasons to be thankful:

*Warning- these are very standard. I'm sorry I couldn't be more witty. I'm sentimental*

1. Family. They know you best and in the worst of times they will always be there. Well, they kind of have to be, but I think they kind of want to be there, too. Whether you like it or not. Plus, it's fun having a little brother who is turning into a young man. He's pretty darn cool.

2. Friends. Connections and true, unconditional friendships are hard to run by the older you get. I feel blessed to have found people I truly care about to be in my life. We may not hang out all of the time, and we might be separated by transitions,state lines, or whatever else, but the presence and memory is always there.

3. The Northwest. I love the northwest. I don't have a whole lot to say about this, but I do know how amazing I felt when I saw real mountains again driving through Northern California this summer. And the feeling intensified as I made my way closer to Missoula, Montana.

4. Health. This past year I learned how good it feels to eat healthy food and exercise frequently. It makes a world of difference on your attitude and the perceptions around you. It just takes stepping out the door and fighting the little red guy on your right shoulder.

5. The sun. Cheesy? Maybe. But when taken away, shoulders slump and frowns flourish. The inversion takes some getting used to, but whenever the sun shows it's face, people are noticeably happier. Bring the sun. Maybe I will move to California someday.

Dwelling on the "Book of Myths"

2009-11-23T18:03:00.000-08:00

Oregon Coast, January 2009

This poem really struck a chord with me a couple of weeks ago.

We have read several poems in my literature class over the course of the semester, many of which I have truly enjoyed, but "Diving into the Wreck" is the one poem I have read from this class that truly hit home for some reason. Even after the first reading, without any prior notion of what it was about or where the poet was coming from, I felt drawn to it.

The poem is about a diver entering the depths of the sea to explore a shipwreck from long ago. The diver reads a "book of myths" before entering the ocean line to explore the damage of the wreck. The "book of myths" represents the past, or old tales, we all have to confront at some point in our lives. I won't write a complete analysis of the poem for the sake of losing you, but I think everyone can relate to this poem personally in one way or another.

Because of my intense attraction and connection to this poem, I decided to look up the biographical context of the author, Adrienne Rich, to find out whether or not my personal reasoning for liking the poem was in any way related to her reasons for writing it. Rich was a successful feminist poet who published many books of poems in her lifetime. In her younger years, while pursuing degrees and writing, she managed to also live somewhat of an "American Dream" lifestyle during those times- white picket fence, kids, husband, etc. Somewhere during this seemingly perfect life of a professional poet and wife, Rich jumped off the bandwagon and experimented with her sexuality. Rich became involved with another woman and abandoned her husband and children. She still wrote poetry. Her husband eventually committed suicide and it is unknown what happened to her children. I believe "Diving into the Wreck" is a poem about Rich's sexuality and how it destroyed the people around her. She describes how she has to go into the wreck alone and how she needs to "see the wreck and not the story of the wreck" or see the damage rather than hearing how it all happened.

"Diving into the Wreck" was even more powerful to me once I knew more about Rich. Although my connection to the poem isn't related to her exploration of sexuality and the result thereafter, I feel like we have all done things in our past or our present we have trouble facing or seeing as is. It's easy to run away from the past that makes us cringe, but there will always be a time whether unexpected or sought after we will have to face it and either suffer from the outcomes of our actions or be better because of it. Either way, give it a read. You may not feel the same way as me, or even like it at all, but I do think it is something we can all think about.

The Androgynous

2009-11-19T10:31:00.000-08:00

My mom said something to me this summer that sort of stuck with me. Does our generation confuse the love we have for our friends with the love we have for our lovers? With sexual preference not being an issue? I can be honest and say a few years ago I had a relationship with a girlfriend of mine that did stumble across that line. I couldn't depict whether the feelings I had for her were friendship feelings, romantic feelings, or both. Nothing ever happened between the two of us past being extremely close, but we did share a unique bond I can't say has revisited me with another female. Unfortunately, she moved away because of money issues, but we still remain good friends from afar.

The same sort of thing can be mixed with members of the opposite sex. I have a lot of male friends. My amount of close male friends outnumbers my close female friends at a rough estimate of 10 to 1. I can't be entirely factual about that, but if you know me, you know I hang out with guys and rarely attend a girls night out. I can say I have fallen for some of my guy friends, but it has never exceeded beyond friendship because in the end, what is it that I really want? The messiness of love and hate or a good solid friendship that will last a lifetime? It takes some strong desire to jump over that line.

So, girls, boys, hermaphorodites, or asexual, we have friends that we can say we truly love at a very unconditional, compassionate level. And sometimes we fall for them. But are we really falling for them or is there something else in our lives that pushes us into thinking we are "in love" with these people? Loneliness, curiosity, desires, fantasies, etc.

I believe there might be an exclusive bunch of us out there who may truly fall in love with human connection and human interaction. We fall in love with the charisma and souls of another human being. I can't say I know how I feel about one sex or the other. If I fall in love with someone, I fall in love with someone. And is it because our generation, more than any other, has the ability to act and think so freely about same-sex relationships? Maybe. We might be more inclined to act on these feelings without fear of being shunned by society or our families. Or at least we hope this is the case. I guess I don't really see the issue behind experimenting with our feelings and our intrigue with love. It might take us back, right where we started, or it might take us in an entirely different direction that fulfills desires and a happiness we may never have known if we didn't try it out. I don't see what harm that has on a person or anyone around them.

UnGodly Hours

2009-11-17T14:04:00.000-08:00

Woman gardening at Oklahoma State University Central

I did one of those crazy things this morning that should be miserable, but is always the exact opposite. My roommates and I drove up Blue Mountain Road at 3 in the morning to watch the meteor shower. The show wasn't anything spectacular. There were more shooting stars than normal, but the black sky was in no way beaming with bright colorful streaks of leftover comet tail. It was just nice being with two of my favorite people at an unGodly hour staring up at the crisp starry sky in a remote area. We had blankets on and a thermos of hot cocoa. Soy, of course. Casey did an Indian dance to summon the sky and Doug laid on top of his truck. I just enjoyed the smell and played with Casey a little. On the car ride home I kept thinking about the nap I would take after I was done with work at the library. It was a justified nap and you don't run by those often. But it's gorgeous out right now and my desktop tells me it's 65 degrees. I don't know if I believe that, but I think I'm going to take a walk.

Workin' on it

2009-11-15T21:15:00.001-08:00

La Fortuna in Costa Rica.
*My new thing is going to be random pics. Current, old, food, friends, family, what have you*

Pick it up. Put it away. Move on. The best relationship you will ever have is with yourself so it's probably best to take care of YOU when you feel like you are drowning in your own thoughts. It's no fun to scoff at others if you are an overweight drunkard.

Over the last year I have worked on me. I have worked on gaining myself back in order to function in this giant mess. I have been successful. My whole life has turned around. I have discovered new passions and a new happiness. Recently though, the world decided to do me a favor and test my new found self. Everything can't be perfect. My steady incline suddenly turned into an upside down bell curve. I didn't like it. At all. And, honestly, I don't think I have handled it well. Overeating, over-exercising, over-walking, over coffee-shopping, over-alone-timing, over-trying-not-to-feel-hurt. I was hurt. I am hurt. And that is okay. It's something I need to get better at accepting from myself. Instead of trying to avoid the feeling by obsessing over other things I just need to allow myself to take it in and let it sit. It's good to feel a little sad. The better times are truly appreciated that way.

So, things didn't quite work out the way I would have hoped for them to, but I'm also happy I finally have been able to feel a little human again. Today I had another breakthrough and I feel like every day will continue to lead me in the right direction. I still don't know what the hell I want to do, but this year has been pretty monumental in the small life of Ashley McKee and I have to remember that. I have a beautiful life. And beautiful people in it. And a new found appreciation for what is important. And all of that will continue to grow. Times are ridiculously confusing and difficult after you graduate. So many options, but so little clarity. What's right? What's wrong? I don't think there is right or wrong when determining your life. It's just a bunch of trial and error. I have made two errors in the last six months. I keep missing, but it keeps everything fresh. And something grand has to come out of that. Strapping young man (Emile Hirsch) on a white horse (preferably appaloosa) with a photo job in tow and a plane ticket to Ireland? It will happen.

In honor of one of my fave movies of all time, I'll give you a top 5 of my fave ways to deal:

1. Oatmeal and Bananas - If you know me at all, you know I have a thing for oatmeal and bananas in the morning. Put a little brown sugar in there and it's considered an amazing morning. Healthy eating can never stress you out. It never makes you feel bad.

2. A good run - It's hard, but a good, solid run gives you a feeling unlike any other feeling when you are finished.

3. Music - Mix it up though. If you listen to this song remember to listen to this song next.

4. Stepping out of the box- dancing to that last song in front of the mirror because that closeted rave-loving, synthesizer-adoring, techno-jamming gay man inside of you is really dying to get out. We all have those, right?

5. Talking to mom- if you have a mom who will let you tell her about your weird cycle of being attracted to bisexual men and experiences with hallucinogens back in the day, use her! She gets it.

Unknown

2009-11-05T09:35:00.000-08:00

Some veggie orzo tomato soup for the sick. Delicious.

Screw the food blog. I'll write about food when I want. Got it. Just like everything else in my life right now, I'm just not sure I can commit to a food blog. Oh, commitment.

I'm at a standstill again. I'm just unsure of what I am doing, where I want to go, who I want to be with, what I stand for..... the standard questions that run through my head every hour on the hour. After coffee with my dear my mom yesterday afternoon, she once again reminded me that I think too much. Let me rephrase that: I over analyze the hell out of every friend, person, situation, and aspect in my life. It's my own personal hell and it takes a rare breed to get me out of it.

I'm ditching school. I don't feel too bad about it since I have already received a first degree. If it was a common bailout I might just THINK about it a little more. My adviser in the education program informed me it will take me about 3 plus years to get a second degree. I nodded my head and then spent the rest of the week pondering the idea of going back to school in Missoula for t h r e e more years of my life only be in just a little more debt, and only to come up on top with a degree that matches my other degree and giving me just a few more options and the same amount of money. Seems ridiculous, right? I will go back to school, but for a graduate degree and I want to think a little bit more about what I want to do. So, after this school semester is over I'll be back in the working field of Missoula and saving money and, of course, thinking.

I would like to say that I'm just a little frustrated. I wish this period of my life was just a tad bit easier on the brain. I guess you don't realize how stressful it can be to have no idea what you want to do or where you want to live and what direction or course you should be traveling. I guess I have the fear that if I just work a ho-hum job I won't ever get out of it. I have the fear that I will wake up in my 30s and be in the same place I am right now. Not knowing. Part of me also cherishes the relationships I have now. I hope I can continue to value this more than a glorious, money-filled future in the working world. I'm afraid, but I also need to loosen up because I'm tightly wound and feel a slight combustion coming on. Before my body blows up in flames, I want to remember what I do have and what I do enjoy out of life.

And before I go, will someone please save me from this scary world of the unknown. Coffee??? Anyone?

Season of the Squash

2009-09-23T20:01:00.000-07:00

Squash has been my staple lately. It's good for a healthy-eating poor college student. I guess you don't have to be a poor student, just a poor human being who wants to eat healthy. Lately I've been baking it or stir frying it with other veggies, and adding black beans and some enchilada sauce and whatever spices you might think will taste good together. I've found it tastes fine just as written, but I've also put it on polenta or rice if you want a little more to eat. I have made some other fine tasting squash dishes using acorn and spaghetti, unfortunately I wasn't taking pictures of my food at the time. I'll make them again this month and post some pictures so you can SEE what I am eating.

*I did make the peach upside down cake and it tasted very good, but, unfortunately, it wasn't picture worthy. Soon.

My Sustenance

2009-09-21T12:55:00.001-07:00

I've been struggling writing posts lately because I feel like I should be giving more information on the things I am interested in or care about rather than the insights of my life. I feel like my passion for food, exercise, and health are a good thing for me to start sharing since it takes up such a big chunk of my life. Recipes, exercise journals, articles on health and food, etc. Let me know what you think. Besides, my blog is called "The Feeding Trough." Although referencing something entirely different in my life, the feeding trough can be taken quite literally for now. I got excited about this new blog idea by a vegan upside down peach cake I will be making tonight and how much I want to take pictures of it when it is done.

You Didn't Know It

2009-09-15T08:39:00.000-07:00

It has been a while. I've been busy adjusting to life in Missoula and getting myself back in school. I am finally in a house, I'm taking 17 credits and becoming a physics/math nerd in the process, and I am currently looking for a job. Life is good. I'm back in the swing of things. I went on a morning run today and I'm about to go measure the height of the Clapp Building (science building) with a protractor I made out of wood, string, and paper. I've been taking a literary studies class and getting into some amazing poetry in the midst of it all. Because I don't have much time, but feel like I should stimulate some folks, I'm going to end this with a couple of poems... Enjoy.

Digging

--Seamus Heaney

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; as snug as a gun.

Under my window a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft
Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

By God, the old man could handle a spade,
Just like his old man.

My grandfather could cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner's bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, digging down and down
For the good turf. Digging.

The cold smell of potato mold, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I've no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I'll dig with it.

Wuthering Heights

--Sylvia Plath

The horizons ring me like faggots,
Tilted and disparate, and always unstable.
Touched by a match, they might warm me,
And their fine lines singe
The air to orange
Before the distances they pin evaporate,
Weighting the pale sky with a soldier color.
But they only dissolve and dissolve
Like a series of promises, as I step forward.

There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction.
I can feel it trying
To funnel my heat away.
If I pay the roots of the heather
Too close attention, they will invite me
To whiten my bones among them.

The sheep know where they are,
Browsing in their dirty wool-clouds,
Grey as the weather.
The black slots of their pupils take me in.
It is like being mailed into space,
A thin, silly message.
They stand about in grandmotherly disguise,
All wig curls and yellow teeth
And hard, marbly baas.

I come to wheel ruts, and water
Limpid as the solitudes
That flee through my fingers.
Hollow doorsteps go from grass to grass;
Lintel and sill have unhinged themselves.
Of people the air only
Remembers a few odd syllables.
It rehearses them moaningly:
Black stone, black stone.

The sky leans on me, me, the one upright
Among the horizontals.
The grass is beating its head distractedly.
It is too delicate
For a life in such company;
Darkness terrifies it.
Now, in valleys narrow
And black as purses, the house lights
Gleam like small change.

A Ball Just Turns

2009-08-07T14:55:00.000-07:00

My friend Casey, Doug, and I got a Vegan Mezza for three at a restaurant in Portland. So large and so good!

Russel and I sitting outside of Philz Coffee in San Fran before I left that morning.

View of residential San Francisco from a hill I found while walking through the neighborhoods.

My friend Danny Bobbe on his roof in LA.

I've been on the road for the past week, seeing friends and new spots. I booked it on Friday and found myself in Holbrook, Arizona on Friday after thirteen hours of driving through the southwest. I don't think I have ever seen the sun so blazing red before. I was blinded at sunset.

On Saturday I roughed another long day and got myself and my car to Los Angeles. I stayed there for a day and a half spending time with a friend I haven't seen for two years. He lives in the heart of downtown LA in a rundown apartment that used to be a hotel many years ago. We hung out on his roof, in Hollywood, on the buses, in the hipster part of town, and on Santa Monica and Venice Beach. LA was fun. I saw a big part of it and know enough never to move there. My friend is making it, though, and that is all I care about.

On Monday I drove to San Francisco, where my friend, Russel, is interning for the AP Photo Agency. San Francisco is an incredible city. Russel and I walked around the Mission District, where he lives, talked, and ate some very delicious Asian food. The second day I was there he had to work so I walked for most of the day stopping at parks and hiking up hills to see the city from above. At sunset when he was off work we met up with his fine arts photographer friend, John-Paul, and got up to another hill to take pictures of the sunset hitting the buildings as the lights began to pop on at night. It was beautiful.

I took off the next day and made it to Coos Bay, Oregon, a quaint, conservative coastal town along Highway 101. The coastal drive from northern California through southern Oregon is quite possibly one of the most beautiful areas I have ever seen. It's indescribably gorgeous. My friend Casey met me in Coos Bay where we stayed in a hotel and caught up on our lives. We drove to Portland the next day where I am now sitting in a coffee shop, drinking coffee and surfing the web. I love Oregon. It is definitely in the top three states of my state rate book. It goes 1. Montana 2. Vermont 3. Oregon ..... I think you will find Oklahoma somewhere near the bottom!

I am going to stay in Portland until I feel like leaving. At that point I will probably make my way to Sandpoint, Idaho, where my old roommate and friend Sam is living with his family for the summer. It is about an hour north of Coeur d'Alene and, so I've heard, a community above all other communities. I said I wanted to check it out so I think it will be a good cap to my road trip before I make it back to Missoula.

This road trip has been unbelievably refreshing and inspiring. I'm slowly gaining myself back. Oklahoma took a lot out of me. You don't realize these things when they are happening so it takes something like this to gain your own reality back. I have missed culture and life. Yeaah, I'm going to put Oklahoma in a special box somewhere, probably somewhere under the 'What's Wrong With America' section of my library. Right on top.

Summer in Oklahoma

2009-07-30T22:36:00.000-07:00

My road trip starts today. I thought I was leaving Saturday, but because my editor didn't sign me up for any photo assignments I think it will be best for me to try to make some ground on the pavement. Originally I planned on going to Flagstaff, AZ on Saturday and to San Francisco, CA on Sunday, but it looks like things are changing a little due to my early start. I will be driving to Holbrook, AZ tomorrow which is an hour short of Flagstaff. I want to stay at a KOA I found around the area. If I can't find a spot I will risk sleeping in my car at a rest stop and just get myself up and go for a walk or hit up a coffee shop to get my body and mind going a little. On Saturday I will be driving to Los Angeles. I didn't think I was going to do it because my friend, Danny Bobbe (some of you fine people know of this fine man), is heading up to Missoula on the 5th and he works most of the day so I thought it was going to be too much extra driving to visit him for only a couple of hours.

The idea of pushing myself and my car incredibly hard for two days straight is not sitting well in my tum, so I was looking at google maps this evening trying to reroute my trip or look at other options. It turns out Holbrook to LA is only around 8 hours. I called up Bobbe and he said he didn't have to work this weekend so it looks like I will be seeing a pastime friend in fast-paced place. This way my trip to San Francisco and all of my other destination points will not be outrageously far apart. I can see another friend and save myself from getting into an accident from being too paranoid and hyped up on coffee or falling asleep at the wheel.

Oklahoma has been an adventure. It has been a nice time away, a great experience, a massive reconstruction to my portfolio, and it has given me a chance to grow and figure out more of what I want and I don't want. But, alas, I never fell in love with it here. I'm ready to hit the road and get some more experiences, *cough*, behind my belt! So long Oklahoma! You'll always be remembered as 'that time I spent in Oklahoma.' I know you will not be forgotten. Onward and upward! Hichaw! See you soon, friends!

Never Underestimate A Vegan

2009-07-21T14:03:00.000-07:00

Here I am with about half of the photographers from The Oklahoman after the cook-off. A variety of ages and looks. We are a unique bunch.

Jim, an Oklahoman photographer, and I have close birthdays so we celebrated at his house with a cook-off. Here we are cheersing one another. A margarita for him and an empty glass once filled with water for me. Oh how the times are a changing.

This is my photo editor, Doug Hoke. He is a hoot and I am very happy he attended the party.

Jesse and me with our food. He made the lasagna sitting on top of the frying pan. Everything else is mine.

The cook-off was a success! I swept my competition with an 18 to 4 vote. Unfortunately for my competitor, he only made a meat and cheese lasagna which I heard was great, but it's hard to compete with only one dish, and such a typical dish at that. I'm happy to say that I wowed the omnivores and I'm one step closer to making McDonald's America a thing of the past. :)

Top Chef

2009-07-18T07:31:00.000-07:00

My foot has been out the door for quite some time now. I guess I consider it okay to start counting down the days until I get to hit the road again. I have been blessed with a great internship and some great photographers as my co-workers, but I'm ready to get back to where I belong... at least for a little while.

Last night I had trouble sleeping. My mind was veering from one subject to the next, mostly dealing with money and my future. I need to grow up. But I'm not sure what that all means. I am in a pile of debt and I have no upcoming job. I don't know if I necessarily want to start working just wherever, but who really does? I think I need to take job opportunities as they come and realize the world doesn't have to stay the same forever. Everything can be temporary. I guess I really scared myself last night after thinking about money, where I am headed, where my friends are headed, etc. It's all not going to be peaches and cream from here on out and I just have to accept that as a way of life for a little while. I'd like to think everything happens for a reason.

My road trip up the west coast is still a go, but I am not sure exactly what I am going to do when I get to Missoula. A big part of me wants to move to Portland to figure it out there, but another part of me, the rational, practical part of me, is telling me to stay in Missoula to save money and apply for photo jobs. I can do the same thing in Portland, but it will cost me another arm and a leg to get there again. This will hopefully all be solved on my way back to Missoula. I think the best time to clearly think is when you are alone with no distractions- nothing but the road and your thoughts.

Well, I have 13 more days in Oklahoma City. Tonight is the Cook Off of the century. The education beat reporter found out I was a vegan a while ago and made fun of me so I immediately challenged him to a cook off. Jim, a photographer, and I have close birthdays so we decided to celebrate our birthdays at his house and hold a cook off for all who want to join in on the celebration. I'm excited because I have been teased around the world and back for being a vegan since day one so it is my time to prove you can eat healthy and it can still taste good. Something that is unheard of here in Oklahoma. I guess if you eat enough Taco Bueno and McDonalds you just might never know what a good meal tastes like. I made some of the food last night to save time today, but the remainder will be done at Jim's house before everyone arrives. I believe Jesse, my opponent, will be cooking at Jim's as well so it will be our own version of reality television.

On the menu:
- Mango Chutney with brown rice
- Baked sweet potato with black bean chili
- Hot and nutty noodles
- Chocolate tofu "cheese"cake

I wanted to make more, but I am not made of money. I think I can wow them with this menu. It isn't so out of this world that it will scare them, but all healthy and animal-free. I'm not telling them the dessert is tofu. I want them to taste it and LOVE it before they realize what they are eating! I will definitely post pictures of all my food once it is out on the table.

Peaceful Evening

2009-07-06T22:17:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting listening to Sufjan Stevens with my roommate. It's just the two of us sitting quietly, enjoying music and silence. It feels so comfortable and familiar. I missed music. I listen to it in my car, but it has been a while since I have listened to it with other people who appreciate it in the same way... what a way to spend the evening.

Outdoors-woman

2009-07-06T08:45:00.000-07:00

My old time friend came to visit me in Oklahoma City and gave me a reboot and ready to charge type feeling for the rest of my internship. I am ready to take on these final weeks as a grand learning experience and hopefully get some good stuff out of it. I have been blessed to be here and learn a different type of fast-paced journalism. I don't want to dig myself into a hole just because I miss my familiarities. I won't have these cameras or the access I have right now in a month so I need to take full advantage of my situation and truck on. I haven't been here that long, but I think I have been here long enough to know I don't want to live here. I didn't realize how much the outdoors meant to me until I came to a place where the outdoors doesn't exist. The lake water is too dirty and there just aren't any hills or mountains to climb. City parks are about as outdoorsy as one can get here and I just can't ever let myself get used to that. And because of the over 100 degree heat and humidity, it's almost a burden to be outside for too long. Being outside is a part of who I am and something I need to be around to be happy.

*There was a crazy storm on the Fourth of July. The picture above is from Gerhardt's phone. This is what we were driving into as we were going to the baseball game. Everyone had to pull over on the freeways because you couldn't see anything at all because the blanket of rain that covered the windshield. My car was rocking back and forth and lightning was hitting the freeway as we sat and waited until we were capable of seeing.

It's Ruff

2009-06-30T09:32:00.001-07:00

As you all know I've been practicing my multimedia skills at my internship here. I put one together the other day at the Oklahoma City dog show. I've never been to a dog show before so it was pretty exciting for me! It is a culture of its own. I don't think I will ever understand dog show people, but I have a lot of respect for their passion. Click here to see my two new friends. :)

*Photos I publish on here from events I shoot for The Oklahoman are ones that don't get published. It is illegal for me to publish any of those. Sorry!

A Job To Do

2009-06-28T16:52:00.002-07:00

I covered a 2-year-old girl's funeral last week. It put a lot of things into perspective for me... not only life, but my role as a journalist. The girl was possibly murdered by her mother's boyfriend and that was the reason for my being there. I don't agree with the media's presence in this case. I don't think the little girl's funeral had any relevance to why the story was newsworthy. I think the boyfriend drowning her in a lake in front of the mom and his son is why the story is newsworthy and my being at the funeral was a cheap shot at selling a few more newspapers. It is part of my job to be at things like this sometimes, but it doesn't mean I always agree with it. I know I will continue to run into situations like this and I know it will take all that is in me to stay put and continue to do a job. Sometimes history needs to be recorded. We might not like it, but someone has to do it. That I do agree with.

I will admit I have been itching to get back on the road again. I really like my internship and what it has offered me, but I am not too fond of Oklahoma. I've made the most of my time here and the people are very friendly and nice, but it just isn't the place for me. I'm of course going to stick the rest of my internship out, but I'm planning on going up the west coast in early August to Taos, New Mesxico, LA, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle and Sandpoint, Idaho to visit friends on my way back to Missoula for my cousin's wedding. After that I will be moving to Portland for a little while. My wonderful friend has offered his couch for a little while until I can get on my feet so I am going to take advantage of friendship and stay with him while I figure out what I want to do post internship. For now I will continue to take advantage of this my time at The Oklahoman and keep advancing my portfolio with more still images, video, and multimedia packages.

Snobs and their Jobs

2009-06-16T11:06:00.000-07:00

For the last two days I have been at The Oklahoma Arts Institute and Conference Center just outside Lone Wolf, OK in the Ozark *cough* Mountains. It is really the first time I have been able to fumble around in the wilderness. I miss it so much. It is nice to be around it again. A lot of intense thinking happened last night and today. I definitely miss Missoula and my friends.

This camp I am at is any artsy high schooler's dream camp. I would have love to have gone to a place like this. And all of the kids come on scholarship so it isn't as if they are all spoiled, yuppie brats. It is full of very sincere kids wanting to act, paint, dance, draw, etc.

There are a lot of really successful instructors here, too. The camp is for Oklahoman teenagers, but the instructors are from all over the United States, including many from NYC and LA.

Yesterday, before I got here, I was asked to shoot the acting instructor by the writer of the story. Today I walked into his classroom, after being told by the PR woman that he knew I was coming, and he immediately asked me what I was doing. I am used to this so I told him I was there to take pictures of him while he was teaching his class. Mistake #1: I didn't say where I was from ( keep in mind I thought he knew because I was told he knew) and the day before I was getting pulled aside over and over again and being told to sit down because all of the counselors and instructors thought I was a student- quite frustrating.

His response to my statement totally blew me away. He said in a very snobby, pompous way, "May I take your picture? That is what you ask." He then stared at me waiting for me to ask him this question in front of his students like I was a child or peon. I confidently and sternly replied, "Sir, I am from The Oklahoman and I will be taking your photograph. A writer interviewed you yesterday so I am here today and I was under the assumption you knew I would be coming." He just laid his eyes on me for a few seconds and returned to his students. He had his liaison take me outside and ask me to go somewhere where I wouldn't distract him. I told her I was a professional and didn't approve of being treated like that. You could tell she was really embarrassed. She tried to explain to me that he was a "West Coast" director. I told her I wasn't angry, but I am from somewhere else, too, and I don't feel the need to treat people like that, Hollywood or not.

When I was done I continued to go to other classes and did not run into the same problem at all. He was just a guy who had been in the Hollywood business and let it get to his head. I received an email from the PR woman later in the day apologizing for the way he treated me. I ran into her a little after that and thanked her for the email, but told her it wasn't necessary.

It's crazy how people don't grasp the idea that all we are only people, no matter where we have been or what we have done, we all remain the same. We all have different experiences, different lifestyles and lives, different interests, yes, but we can share these traits that make us who we are with other people who are different. It doesn't mean we all have to get along and hang out together, but we don't have to treat anyone like they are the scum of the Earth. This man will probably die an unhappy, empty man. I would rather die with no money and no fame then without the blessing of the comfort and love of those who are in my life.

Blue Dot Driving

2009-06-10T18:17:00.000-07:00

I took a road trip to Guthrie, Oklahoma and I cruised on Route 66 to Tulsa. I took some pics along the way.

I saw my first fireflies last night and today I experienced my first Oklahoma thunderstorm. I actually was stuck in it while shooting an assignment today. It felt good! It's a nice warm rain. (I just covered my camera with a plastic grocery bag and ripped a hole so I could see out of it) A firefighter who was with me while I was shooting a safety village they are constructing brought an umbrella to cover me. I kept leaving the shelter he provided for me and near the end he asked for my name again and after I told him he said, "Ashley from Montana, you are a real outdoors woman. You are tougher than all the guys I got here." Ha. I just said I didn't think he knew what actual tough weather was.

Red Earth

2009-06-07T20:51:00.000-07:00

I've been extremely busy this last week at The Oklahoman. I've been learning video and how to put together multimedia projects. It has been fun, but it is also a lot of work. I'm pretty fried. Earlier in the week I just shot some daily assignments, shadowed my mentor, and learned how to use a video camera. (setting it up and how to get quality sound... hooking up wireless microphones, ambient sound techniques, etc.) On Thursday I traveled to Olustee, Oklahoma in search of some wheat harvesters. It was a very long day. We ended up traveling southwest all the way to the Red River which separates Oklahoma from Texas. It took us about 7 hours to get there while stopping at grain elevator stations along the way. No one was harvesting because it had rained the day before and wheat is only good to harvest if it is hot, dry, and windy. http://newsok.com/multimedia/photos/gallery/501117

For the last three days I have been spending my time at the Red Earth Festival which is a Native American heritage convention. It is like a giant national pow-wow in a sports arena. It was a lot more difficult to shoot than I imagined because of the low light and a lack of flash. I didn't want to shoot flash because it would have been disrespectful. I had a lot of trouble focusing on any one thing and I was frustrated with the amount of time I spent and how many photos I got that I considered worthy of being a quality photo. Very few made it. I think it's funny how something that screams "Photo!" is sometimes a lot harder to shoot because you don't know exactly what you should be shooting. It's always good to have a focus point or your pictures will not flow together. I think I got it by the third day, but I really struggled for most of the event. It just goes to show I am more of a story teller than an event shooter. I can connect with subjects I can be personal with, but I have trouble with assignments where I'm not meeting the people I am shooting.

All in all, I am exhausted and I am happy to have a day off tomorrow. I think I might try to go to a town called Guthrie. It was the old state capital before Oklahoma City. It has a banjo museum and an old bluegrass scene so I thought it would be fun to check it out on my day off. They seem very few and far between so I need to take advantage of them before my time runs out.

Frustrating Thoughts

2009-06-04T21:49:00.001-07:00

At what age do we start realizing we need to quit censoring ourselves and just go with human intuition and gut? When do we just say 'screw logic' and do the things we never thought we could ever do? Like kiss the boy you are falling in love with but know you shouldn't or finally engaging in conversation with the cute stranger who comes into the cafe you work at every day? Why do we have to hold back because we are so afraid of getting rejected? You would think the older I get the easier to endure the feeling, but I am facing the exact opposite problem. The older I get the more scared I am of becoming vulnerable. I want to be in control and I think stepping out of the shell I have sealed so tightly will only mess with a comfortable routine I have set up for myself. I don't want to do that anymore. I want to say I love you again to someone. I want to depend on someone when I am having a bad day. But until I can grab onto the rare moments of human connection before I let them slip away I will be in the same boat I have been in for the last few years-- focusing on work and life pursuits. It's not a bad life, but I know there is more out there.

Branching Out

2009-06-01T05:49:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had an adventure with my fellow intern and roommate, Sean, a local desk reporter. We traveled to Yukon to visit Garth Brooks Blvd. It ended up just being a main street in the town and nothing else. No giant pictures of the man that turned a once respected form of music into what it is today. I still love him and as you can tell, I will stand by his side. We also took a stroll around the Bricktown district in Oklahoma City and visited the Oklahoma City bombing memorial site. I also slipped in a picture of The Oklahoman building.

This is the Oklahoma City bombing memorial site. It is very well put together and especially moving. I haven't gotten a chance to check out the actual museum, but I walked around the area where the street and building were taken out. This strip of water represents the street that used to be there before the bombing. The building that is reflected in the water is the museum.

This is some building art in the Bricktown district in Oklahoma City. I thought it was pretty.

This is where I work. It has a 1.25 mile walking trail that laps around 3 ponds, 2 basketball courts, a volleyball court, a barbecue hut, and tens of tens of Canadian Geese. A little different from Food For Thought.

Noodling

2009-05-28T20:32:00.000-07:00

My first official day as a photographer at The Oklahoman is over and I feel like an exhausted 6-year old who had a full day of toys and candy after a visit from Old Saint Nick.

I spent the last two days attending The Oklahoman's orientation which consisted of 15 other interns and me spending eight and half hour days touring the 12-story building, sitting in informational meetings, running up and down the stairs, taking elevators, eating barbeque food and treats, and meeting top publishers and people who were interns turned staffers. It was exhausting, but well worth the push. I think I can say I learned a little something.

Today I learned the ropes of the photography department. I was drooling and a wee bit anxious after seeing all of the gear and facilities I can use for the summer. Not only was I given the keys to come use the computers and studio whenever I please, but I was set up with everything you can possibly think that a professional photojournalist will ever need to take a great picture: Two camera bodies, five lenses to keep with me at all times (not counting the lenses I can pull from the gear room at my discretion), two strobes and all sorts of on-the-go studio lighting, a laptop, keys to use any of the eight cars provided just for photo staff, and the list goes on. At the end of it all, one of my mentors took me to an Epperson photo shop in Oklahoma to help me shop for the photo bag of my desire so I can lug all of the gear around with me. I get to keep it when I am done here. I was given a mini-tour of some of Oklahoma City and its surrounding areas, taken out to lunch, and watch a photo assignment take place. I felt like whatever my Grandpa says he feels like when he drives his outdated yellow Cadillac around the town. Pretty damn good. Of course, at the end of it all, I was told to earn what I was given today which goes to show, again, nothing is ever handed to you. It is sort of like grant money. I don't have to pay any of it back, but I better make use of what has been given to me or it could be just money shooting right down a hole. If that is the saying. Tomorrow I start shooting and I am terrified.

On a more silly note, I have found some strange Oklahoman culture to post. I was told about it on one of my first days here so I decided to do a little research to inform my friends of some people that are even more ridiculous than the chew-spitting, dirty, lonely rednecks who live in Whoknowswhereville, Montana. Have you ever heard of noodling? It is the art of hand fishing. No pole, no reel, just your hand holding bait under a rock, fishing for catfish.... big catfish.... and they do bite. HARD. What started as something to do by a river (which many Okies still do) has turned into tank competitions with hundreds of people watching. It's bizarre and very small town. I asked if anyone has ever done a story about it (they had to, there's no way anyone would just sit back on this one) and I guess noodlers are very secretive about the whole thing. If anyone has been okayed to go on a noodling expedition, at least at The Oklahoman, it has been a hard race to keep up with the noodler so there has never been any extensive documentation on this stomach-turning sport. It's really hard for me to watch this video, but please do so you get somewhat of an idea of how crazy noodling actually is... Dear Lord.

Season Premiere

2009-05-22T09:33:00.000-07:00

I am finally one of the people I saw so many times over the last two year sheepishly wander into Food For Thought looking lost and in need of a friend. Here I am sitting in a cute, artsy-fartsy type coffee shop sipping on a soy latte looking up every once in a while at unfamiliar faces. Oklahoma is quite the change. I have only been here for two days so I can't really pass any judgments, but I know it is going to take some strong will and determination for me to find people and things I relate to in some way.

My drive down here went very smoothly. I stayed at Jane's house in Idaho Falls and said my good-byes to her and my favorite roommate to date, Douglas Brinkerhoff. I'm truly going to miss that man. I know from now on our relationship will consist of me sending him emails with cool river pictures I have found on the web (I did that anyway) or letters to his P.O. Box describing things I have seen or bad roommate stories. Maybe I can convince him to move down to Oklahoma City so we can have the ideal roommate situation for the rest of our lives. We shall see.

From Idaho Falls I traveled down to Salida, Colorado where my friend Kevin Hoffman calls home for the time being. The drive down was gorgeous and promising. It was full of red canyons, forest green bush scattered about, and windy roads that took me through the hilly landscape. I blasted some Garth Brooks and had a little party in my car. It took me 12 hours to get to the small, majestic ski town of Salida. Good God. When I was only a few miles away there were rays of pink and blue light shining brightly above a mountain top blanketed with pine trees. It was absolutely beautiful. Looking at my rearview mirror the mountains behind me were outlined by a sunset dripping yellow and silver glitter from the sky. It was unreal.

While in Salida, Kevin and I went rafting down the Arkansas River. We managed to strap a 13-foot raft to my car and, with a fast-moving mind and a stress level at its peak, he managed to pull it together and the two of us made our way down the river near midday. I ended up just staying at his place another night to get a full days rest so I could pull another 12 hour day on the road. I made dinner, we watched a movie, and I fell asleep early.

My drive to Oklahoma was an emotional roller coaster- it's the only way to describe it. Leaving the mountains of Colorado felt the same way as when I was driving to Salida. It's a fun little drive and it's so picturesque it keeps your spirits high and energetic. That level of optimistic intensity was soon crushed by the desolate dry deserts of the northeast corner of New Mexico and the panhandle of Texas. I wanted to die. I had never felt more alone. I think it was the point where I realized I was somewhere else and I was just continuing to drive farther along its unfamiliarity, uncomfortable path. I stopped a couple of times and the towns were dirty, the people were fat, the trucks were big, and the lack of anything I knew was strong. I hated it. I was so scared that Oklahoma was going to look and feel just like Texas and I knew that was not where I wanted to end up.

But, as the day was nearing its end, and I continued to drive the grasses became more green and trees were born once more. The wind was cooler, the air smelled fresher and I felt like I had just gained back my sense of sight because color existed again. It's crazy how different one place can be from another just by a state line on a map. Oklahoma was like a totally different country. The signs read differently and the atmosphere was friendlier. I felt at ease as I made my way to the central part of the state. I had finally made it. It is as flat as what we once thought the world used to be, but it has a very comfortable, midwestern feel to it. It's clean. It's farmy. It's very green. And it's people are friendly.

I live in Edmond, Oklahoma, a posh suburb on the outskirts of Oklahoma City. I found the Goodwill and it has a quaint downtown area where I hear they have a Farmer's Market and some community gatherings. It's a small part of the city, but at least it is here because it reminds me of home. I'm actually at one of the coffee shops in it right now. There are lots of parks and neighborhoods that surround some main streets that look like an exact replica of Reserve Street in Missoula. I live in a student housing apartment complex. I'm starting to realize with comfort that where I live doesn't represent Oklahoma or its people. Where I live there's a lot of 'subwoofas' and gangsta' guys strutting around with some 'fly' girls. Sitting in this coffee shop alone makes me realize that I just live in a bad place if I am seeking culture or REAL people. It isn't hopeless it will just fall on me to experience the most of something very strange and new.

I think after this I'm going to cruise over to Arcadia Lake and check out some hiking/biking trails. We will see how much hiking I can get out of it, but it looks like a big park where one can get away from the commercialism that inhabits suburbs. I will soon start posting pictures of the area once I get a better feel of what it is. And my Oklahoma City expeditions should start soon. I've got a banjo museum and a cowboy heritage museum to check out. I've got to get some souvenirs for some peeps back home. Plus, there's a Garth Brooks Boulevard I saw coming in a couple days ago. Who would I be if I didn't check it out?

My three month anniversary

2009-04-16T20:21:00.001-07:00

I haven't written for a while and there is a reason.

Over the past few months I have gone through some drastic innermost changes and I wasn't ready to write about it yet. I was too afraid of getting personal or jinxing my progress. I know it is all I would want to write about and I don't think I was ready yet.

Today is my three-month anniversary... a three month anniversary to finding myself again.

On January 16, 2009 I decided to quit drinking and every aspect of my life has completely changed. I have lost around 25 pounds, I exercise six days a week, I'm eating healthy (I'm practically vegan at the moment), and I'm sleeping more and making it to work every day at 7 in the morning. Oh, and did I mention I am really happy?

When I first started my path to sobriety I had so many expectations for what was to come. I thought after a month I would feel so different and be a completely new Ashley. That didn't happen. I just felt like an Ashley who didn't drink. Everything was the same. I didn't feel any happier or anything like a new person. Aside from taking better care of myself and my responsibilities I didn't feel a thing. It was at the two month point my sobriety started to hit me, but not necessarily for the better. At this point I had been working so hard to get my weight down and focus on my health. I realize now becoming a gym-rat/health-nut was something to take my mind away from alcohol and from discovering my issues with myself. I was getting frustrated. Physically I was changing, but my mental health wasn't progressing. It was barely moving. I still felt like the world was against me. I did feel better, but I still felt like this giant wall separated me from the people I love most in this world. My head was chock-full of mind vomit more so than it ever had been before. Stepping outside and talking to people seemed like such a battle. I avoided it as much as I could, focusing only on work and my physical health.

A good friend of mine, Brian, who has struggled with substance abuse as well came into town around my two-month point and he really brought forth the dance going on in my head. He didn't say anything or do anything that made me realize I was fighting something, but his presence brought something out in me I knew I had to face. I had been journaling every day, hoping something would just flow from my fingers onto paper, but nothing was flowing, nothing was being solved. I couldn't figure out what was wrong. Work? People? Family? Nope. When Brian left that weekend I felt like I just missed my chance at discovering what was bringing out this intense anxiety. I can't explain it. I just felt like he was my chance and I had just missed it because I was too afraid to be open. I called him when he left back to Idaho only to get his voicemail. I left what I now think was probably one of those crazy messages that your one psychotic, dramatic friend leaves, the one that doesn't make any sense to anyone but them. Or maybe I just leave those. Anyway, I left one. After I left the message it was all that was running through my the cracks of my coiled-up brain. I needed to solve this. I sped home and got my journal out again. It still wasn't working. This is when I decided I needed to write a letter. I needed to write a letter to the person I was so sure could help me. I started to write a letter to Brian.

I started off the letter by telling him I wasn't sure why I was even writing him this letter. I have some issues with doubt, I know... anyway, I just started to spill everything. Everything I felt about my sobriety, my alcohol issues, the things I didn't understand, etc. I was about three or four pages into my letter when I started crying. Sobbing. I had to stop. I didn't even know what I just wrote. I reread the paragraph and it finally hit me. This is not exactly word for word, but here is a close attempt to duplicate what I wrote him:

"Over the past 2 months my life has changed so drastically both physically and mentally. I have lost a ton of weight, I am very active, I am eating better, my relationships with my friends and family are the best they have ever been, I am no longer perpetually miserable, I have started doing all of the things I used to do, but slowly quit doing once drinking became more of a priority, and I am finally happy. Why am I so conflicted by my happiness? Why is this pushing me away from people and myself? I think more than anything this drastic change in my lifestyle and this freedom to finally be happy with everything around me and myself has really proved to me how big of a problem I actually have with alcohol. I didn't realize until now how much it tore away from me. I guess my problem is I am very happy to have finally taken that step, to have finally conquered what was holding me back for so long, but it is also very hard for me to realize how serious my problem with alcohol was and still is. I have a long way to go."

I always knew I had issues with alcohol and there has always been a voice in my head telling me to stop, but I would never do it. I would call myself an alcoholic and my friends and family knew I struggled with it. I've always been open about it. But, again, I never realized it stole my entire life away from me. My problem with alcohol is not small. I have had many life-threatening encounters because of drinking. I have lost friends from drinking. I have lost a lot of respect from people and from myself from drinking. For my life to have changed so drastically over only a few months because I took one thing out of it is such a scary eye-opener. It is also so great to know I finally had the courage to face my problem.

These last few months, however great they have been, have not been easy. Everything is clearer than day. Everything I was running from no longer has a blurry glaze of alcohol covering it. It is right there ready to say good morning every day with a big, bright smile and hopefully some coffee to get me through it. It all makes sense to me now. I no longer fight the urge to drink, but every day for the rest of my life will be a decision. I am ready to accept that and face reality the way everyone else does. I can no longer cover up my problems with the one thing I never admitted took them away. Hello, my name is Ashley, and I am an alcoholic. And, no, just for the record, I do not go to AA. I just sound like it. This is going to be my thing.

Did I send that letter to Brian?

Yes. Yes, I did send that letter to Brian. I think he deserves it no matter how crazy and foolish my neurotic, anxiety-controlled mind can be. He helped me more than he will ever know.

News Anchor Haircut

2009-02-24T14:33:00.000-08:00

I did what I thought I couldn't do for the last few years a couple of weeks ago. I chopped off my long, luscious, curly locks and gave it to someone who can't grow their own hair. Twelve inches of ponytail chopped off with a few snips of the scissors, put into a bag, and sent off to Florida where the gracious people at Locks for Love will turn it into a wig. I wanted to ask if I could track it like those 'Adopt-A-Starving-Child' foundations, but I thought that would have been a rude joke so I opted out of making a fool of myself for a small laugh I would only share with myself.

My co-workers now call me Rachel because they say it looks like her hip haircut from the 90s. I agree, but I would rather they just not call me Rachel for the sake of my sanity. Of course I would get the haircut that was popular around 10-12 years ago.

Everything said, I really like the do. It changes my look, but I'm moving and advancing so I think it is the perfect time to look a little more professional. Now I just have to get rid of the nose ring. I think I am going to wait until the last minute for that one. That is going to be a hard one.

Could it be gray journalism?

2009-02-03T13:25:00.001-08:00

I found out a week ago I will be going to Oklahoma City for the summer. Cowboy country. I think I will be quite happy there. I got the summer internship offered at The Oklahoman, a paper that has a 260,000 circulation. It is quite large and I am thrilled. I am excited to go somewhere new, meet new people, and Oklahoma seems like the right place for me. I have never been there so my expectations are small and my mind is wide open. I will get paid very well and I will be working on my goal from the bright age of 16 of becoming a working photojournalist. I have found that baby steps are the key to achieving what I want most in this world.

The only reason I mention this is because I have a lot of friends who are either working journalists who despise their jobs or unemployed journalists who can't find work. All I hear about is this black world of journalism that has been set before us. Because of our failing economy and an ample amount of people reading their news online instead of buying an actual paper, many of us feel discouraged and disheartened about our degrees. It is easy to see why- large newspapers and small newspapers alike are being sold all over the country and people are getting laid off left and right. As we read and hear about this we slump into our chairs just a little more every day.

This unusual tightening of money and availability of jobs isn't a reflect on the talents of journalists. I feel my head has never gone under the water. I know I am a good photographer who has drive and still wants to meet people and discover new places. I know it is what I want to do, bad economy or not. Right now I am working at a small cafe as a server and a baker. I deal with snotty, rude people daily. I learn how to fake smile and cater to the needs of strangers, but every day after work I tell myself, 'This is not what I want to do. It only pays the rent.' I did not think I would be in Missoula, Montana this year, but here I am, working 40 plus hours a week serving food to people. In the mean time, I have been working on my second job: taking pictures and sending portfolios. I love what I do and just because I am working somewhere I don't like, doesn't mean I don't have the ability to keep doing what I do like. Things will work out. Inner-motivation and inner-drive are the key aspects to getting what you want. Think of little boy Rudy from that football movie. Cheesy, I know, but so true in so many ways.

On a different note, we have already gone through a month of 2009 and I am feeling really good.

My New Year's resolutions were a little hard to stick to right away, but gradually I have tackled the temptations floating all around me and I have stuck to my goals. For the past three weeks I have not eaten meat. I know that was not in my agenda of resolutions, but I figured I could clear my digestive system and just start eating healthier. I read a bunch of blogs by people who were strict vegetarians, almost vegan, and from their words I could only grasp that they were this unique group of beaming people who had a bright yellow halo wrapped around their heads. Angels? No. Just happy. They raved on and on about how good they felt once they made the decision to turn strictly vegetarian and they would never turn back. And they weren't trying to sell me anything so I believed them. And I do have to say, even after three weeks, I feel good. I went on a run today and I don't feel like a big hunk of ham is rolling around in the pit of my stomach, squealing for me to let him out. My trips to the bathroom are more smooth (unneeded information) and I have been craving water like I used to crave bacon.

I have not consumed alcohol in about two and a half weeks. My head is clear and I am not having the mood swings of a giant roller coaster at Six Flags. I am going to bed early, getting up earlier, reading books, and smiling more. Life is good.

The Worst President Ever

2009-01-16T15:34:00.000-08:00

I had a dear, old friend of mine spark my interest greatly after he wrote a blog about President Bush's final salute. My friend stressed his disgust in labeling Bush the "worst president ever." Although not a major Bush fan himself, he believes, from what I gathered, that after some time Bush will be just another president who the public didn't like and that no one, especially people who are in the realm of 20-something, should not or can not label him as the "worst president ever."

I couldn't disagree more. Although I do agree that no one can really label one of the president's as "the worst president ever," I do believe any human being can research the good and bad choices of the presidents that led to either successes or downfalls in his country. Any informed, educated person can say where a president falls in the list of good and bad presidents. President Bush is definitely not on the good list. The man started a long-term war in an undeserving country; he waited far too long to help the homeless, starving, and dying people who experienced the wrath of a terrible natural disaster in his own country; he allowed a once prosperous economy to completely foil in front of his eyes and become the worst economic woe in the United States since the Great Depression; and those are just some of the major things he has done in his two terms as president. Bush has a 22% approval rating on his way out the door. I am pretty sure Nixon had at least 26%.

All presidents have done their wrongs. No one is perfect. But no generation has ever seen such a lethal force barrel through one of the most powerful countries in the world and carry the reigns with so much control. As bad as a speaker as he was, Bush also had the sweet ability to scare the people in his country. To use words such as 'our freedom' and 'terrorist' over and over again after the 9-11 tragedy was a good tactic. It was a time when people were vulnerable and didn't know what to think. Bush knew how to cater to the simple-minded and the scared. He made 90% of people believe fighting the war for our freedoms against terrorists was the right thing to do. I think Hitler was really good at the same thing.

Everyone will always disagree and agree with their presidents, but I don't think there should be any doubt in anyone's' mind that Bush was one of the poorest and worst president's this nation has ever had. More people have died in the last eight years than should have because of this man and the people behind him and not only because of a war.

The End of Me

2009-01-11T12:37:00.000-08:00

I took a little trip into the Rattlesnake Wilderness area yesterday with my roommate for a delightful snowshoeing expedition. I would consider myself a very outdoorsy person. I get antsy and anxious if I haven't taken myself up a mountain or by a river. Everyone has their escapes and being outside and in the "nature," as the Czechs would say, is mine.

My one problem when I go outside is I get a little too adventurous. Whenever I go out for a day trip it never turns into a nice stroll in the woods for a few hours. I always end up risking my life in some way or another. My roommate, Doug, and I decided to take a scenic loop around Spring Gulch so we could actually use our snowshoes because the main trail was too packed down to actually make using snowshoes legitimate . We would just look like a bunch of out-of-staters using their fancy new gear, but didn't actually know where and when to use them.

Anyway, the trail started out quite pleasant- slightly uphill and the snow wasn't too deep. As we packed in farther, the trail began to fool us. We knew no one had been out as far back as we were because there were no longer any foot or cross-country ski tracks. The snow became a lot deeper and I started to imagine myself falling through the powder, buried, and screaming, "Doooooug!" as the snow slowly covered my head. (I do that from time to time... imagine these heinous situations that could happen, like flicking my cigarette past a gas station and watching the entire thing explode... another story)

It started to get close to sundown and we still hadn't hit the top of the mountain. At this point, I couldn't go back. There's something that screams failure after you have put yourself in these stressful situations and you can't follow through with it. I think it will be the end of me someday. We did make it to the top and it was probably the least amount of time I have ever spent on a summit. We had to get back. We didn't have headlamps and because the snow covered the trail we were going to have trouble figuring out which way was home.

We were sprinting on snowshoes. I wish I could have seen what we looked like because I felt ridiculous. While running in body deep snow I was trying to take pictures of the trees and snow around me. I fell a few times and finally decided it was best for me to put my camera away and keep up with Doug before he decided to just camp out and eat me for dinner. We made it back, but the not in time for nightfall. Because the snow reflected the moon, everything was silhouetted and it was easy to find our way back as we got onto the main trail again.

I bring this story up only because I know I put myself into these outrageous outdoors situations with only the experience of having done it so much. I have some friends who have been making lists of top ten whathaveyous so I am going to make a top list of Ashley putting her life at risk when it was completely unnecessary:

1. Boating down Rattlesnake Creek last June with Doug. Our oar broke and we were being thrown back and forth from bank to bank. We made it to the Clark Fork, but ended up flipping the boat and hauling ass to pull ourselves to the side. This was a time where I really thought I was going to die because the river was so high.

2. Three-wheeling at my aunt's house outside of Missoula when I was thirteen. I don't remember a thing, but a came to in the hospital with a shattered nose and a mouth full of stitches. I had to eat pudding a jello for the entire summer.

3. Skiing in Canada when I was 16 with Lewis. I am an average skier. Not great, but not bad. Lewis is GOOOD. He decided it would be educational if he took me down a double-black diamond when I was the master of the blue circles. It took a long time to get down that mountain.

4. Kayaking on the Gorge with Lewis when I was 20 in June. I only say June because that is high-water time in Missoula making the rapids more vigorous and nasty. I had never gone kayaking before, but he told me I would be fine. The rapids in this time of year can be rated as Class 3 or 4 and for an inexperience kayaker this can be very dangerous, but I t rusted him. We were about to hit a rapid called "Fang" when I heard Lewis yell, "Paddle as hard as you can, Ashley!! Paddle hard!" I do exactly as he says, and see a colossal wave of water is about to rush over our heads. I'm paddling as hard as I can, but the wave was too massive to fight. We flip and I start to panic. Lewis had told me before we went out that if something like that were to happen, to just stay still and the water will spit me out. He told me not to fight it. I did this and the river did spit me out. I felt like I had been underwater for several minutes, but it couldn't have been more then 10 or 15 seconds.

God, that was scary.

The List

2009-01-01T19:27:00.000-08:00

It's the start of a new year. 2009. That number is absolutely incredible. I keep feeling older by the day.

Every new year a bunch of people all over the world make a list of resolutions they want to fulfill to hopefully mold themselves into better people. Usually I do not make one of the

se lists because I have always felt that we should constantly be trying to make ourselves better and it shouldn't have to be a certain time of year that we try to do it. I know. I have a problem with authority, especially when it comes to the rules of society. Oh well.

Anyway, this year I decided it would be best for me to write down a few goals because I feel I have changed as a human being. I have a had some trouble figuring out what I want to do or where I want to go in the next few years. I feel trapped. I know my mind and my body want to run, but I cannot lift my shoes out of the deep, deep snow I stuck them in. This year, because I yearn to leave Missoula so badly, I feel I need to write down some resolutions so I can see

them every day and remind myself why I am still in Missoula.

So, here goes:

Ashley McKee's 2009 Resolutions

1. Do not spend money on anything I don't need (i.e. clothes, movies, magazines, etc.) I figure I will only spend money on rent, food, and cigarettes. I don't need cigarettes, but it is not a New Year's goal I wish to battle this year.

2. No bars or alcohol. If someone wants to give me a glass of wine I will take it, but I will not be spending money on any amount of booze.

3. Exercise. It's classic. It's hard to want to be outside when there is about 6 feet of snow all over the place, but this year I am not going to let that get me down. I will exercise.

4. Get another job. This will help me save more money and keep to my other goals because I won't have time to do anything but sleep, eat, and work. Oh, and exercise.

That is the extent of my New Year's resolutions list of goals. I would say it is a very healthy list. I am looking forward to what I am going to look like in a few months.

(I also went to Oregon last week so I thought I would share with you some of my pictures!)

Cruising the Drag

2008-12-24T12:11:00.000-08:00

Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat. Very very fat.

Oh, the holidays are here and I can feel my thighs and stomach growing at an increasingly rapid pace as we inch closer to December 25. This time of year is always frustrating. So many good people and so much good food. People= socializing and drinking and food= bloated stomachs and a constant desire to want to take a nap. All of this can eventually lead anyone into to a lull. My goal this year is to fight the constant desire to want to eat and nap after the Christmas season is over. Missoula got dumped on and I think instead of being afraid of walking in the snow I am going to try to play in it as much as possible. This year I will fight seasonal depression even if it kills me.

This past week has been a very good one. Two of my very best friends came into town and the three of us were able to relive the old times together. It has been a few years since the three of us have been together all at once so we made the most of our time even if it was for just one night.

The three of us were quite the trio back in high school. We chose sobriety in high school so it was up to us to hunt out good times with lack of alcohol and drugs. A common activity the three of us would get into was what we liked to call "cruising the drag." If anyone knows Missoula there really isn't much of a drag or a strip. The three of us would pack into Sophie's beat-up old Toyota and pump tunes like "Hit Me Baby One More Time" by Britney Spears or "Bye Bye Bye" by N'Sync and drive up and down Higgins for several hours. We never listened to this music outside of "cruising the drag" but we had ourselves a grand old time when we rode in the car, blaring horrible pop music and singing to the people walking on the streets.

After dinner on Friday, Hilary asked if we would be interested in reliving the old times and taking a spin around the "drag." Sophie and I thought it was a great idea and jumped into the car to take one more ride around the X's and to the Holiday gas station. One cruise around the drag turned into two and then three and four and before we knew it, we had just listened to around 3 Cd's of bad music and spent over an hour "cruising the drag" again. I know it is risky for me to even admit I did this when I am 23 years of age, but I don't think I have had such a good time in a very long time.

I feel like whenever someone comes back into town and we meet up there is this desire to act older and prove that they have done something with themselves. I realize we have all gotten older and with that comes maturity, but deep within all of us there is a small child ready to burst.

Hilary Martens is a graduate of the UM and is now studying space science in London to receive her master's, all of which is paid for through a very handsome scholarship. Sophie Gibbons went to a prestigious music school in Montreal and just graduated with a music degree. She is now interning at a record company in Montreal and working at a cafe to help pay the bills. I just recently got my B.A. in photojournalism and am saving money to hopefully leave by early June. The three of us have all chased our passions and received a piece of paper that indicates we are professionals in our areas of expertise. But we can still have silly fun. And that is most important to me- to have the ability to be serious about one's life, but to never let it take over.

I have friends who have bought houses, friends who have had babies, friends who have gotten married, and many friends who are in long-term relationships.... The older I get the more freaked out I get by all of these life decisions, but I always need to set myself back a bit and realize I am different than those around me. My decisions are my decisions and theirs are theirs. We all take different paths in life. I know I have so much more to experience and live before I can be settled. The idea that I am going to already know who I am going to be with or where I am going to be in the next 30 years scares me. There is so much life for me to live before I can settle in that way. I just hope I will always carry my inner-child around with me and never forget to always think young while pursuing my life goals.

Is there really any gold at the end of the rainbow?

2008-12-15T20:29:00.000-08:00

I have up and moved from the hiding spot I like to call my bedroom. I took a break from society and those people I call my friends. Sometimes I just need a break. Some thinking and alone time were in dire need or I may have harmed someone.

A wonderful lady came into town last week. Henni, who some of you may know, came into town for a few days to interview for a job at the UM. I got to see her twice and in those two times she once again gave me all the advice she had in one hand to set my life straight for at least a year. I will take any internship offered to me in the summer, but if sadly don't get one I will instead buy a one-way ticket to the place of my desire. I will leave by early June even if that means living out of my car for a while. I love the idea.

Because moving takes planning I figured I should start figuring out where I would like to go if I am going to live there and all. A long time ago I met these two guys who had just moved to Missoula. When I was younger I was always curious why someone would want to live here, in this small, dull town where I grew up. (I learned after time it was one of the best spots on Earth, but that's another story) So, my curious self asked the two gentlemen why they came to Missoula, Montana. They told me about this website called "Find Your Spot." I was very intrigued that two grown men (they were probably only 24 or 25 when I met them) would just pick up and leave because a web site told them they would like it there. Of course I immediately went to the web site and filled out the questionnaire to figure out where I should live someday. If I can remember right my number one spot was Hartford, Connecticut, followed by four places in Oregon. I remember being disappointed because I have never wanted to move to Oregon because everyone from Missoula hits the big city of Portland when they are ready to get out. I want something different. I figured I should check out find my spot one more time and see if my interests have changed over the past 5 years or if I am truly destined for Oregon. Here are my new results:

#1 Spot- San Bernindo, CA followed by #2- Charleston, West Virginia, #3- Alexandria, Louisiana, #4- Fayetville, Arkansas, and finally, #5- El Cajon, California. They hook you up with around 24 spots, but I won't bore you with all of them. I will say none of them align with the places I actually desire to go to, and because I am too much of a chicken to drive across the country to some place a website tells me I will enjoy, I think I will stick to my gut and go with my own "top spots" and see how those work out for me.

My top spots so far: Ireland, Maine, Vermont, North Carolina, Virginia, or upstate New York. My New Year's resolution will be to save as much money as humanly possible and move to one of these spots by June 1, 2009. Ireland is far from the others, but that is one I am still going to gamble with a bit. Why not? I've always wanted to meet a sexy Irish man and where better to do that than in his own country.

An Individual Truth

2008-11-24T14:16:00.001-08:00

A good friend of mine the other day asked me whether or not I consider the truth when I am taking pictures? I find myself thinking about this subject a lot. What are my intentions as a photographer? Fame? Photography? Documentation? Telling the truth?

I was telling my mom today I find it hard to talk to people about cameras. Whenever I tell people what I majored in or what I want to do with my life people often start talking about camera equipment, the digital era, mega pixels, macro and micro lenses, Canon vs. Nikon, and so on... I get so bored with that conversation. Soooooooo bored. I think this is because I really don't care about any of that. My intention as a photographer isn't the equipment I have, but what I want do with that equipment. Don't get me wrong, I would love to have a new D300 or a fancy new lens, but with what I got for now, I want to shoot more than I want to buy new or talk about equipment.

A photographer/photojournalist can influence an audience by far the most out of any other medium in journalism. It is a single photograph of a certain event or time and the photographer can take a picture of whatever they want, however they want as long as they are taking a picture of the assigned subject. We can, in a sense, show how we feel or think about something and get away with it- a photograph cannot be illustrated (if we are speaking ethically) or misquoted, but it can be misrepresented or misleading. Photographs are instances in time, and it is up to the photographer and editor to pick which side of the story they want to reveal. A good photographer can show it all, which is hard to do while including all elements that technically make a photograph appealing.

This photograph was printed around the world during the Vietnam War. At that time, the American public really had no idea how dirty war was; they only saw pictures of heroes and flags and unity before. This was one of the first pictures to show that war was "right at home" for many people. The thing about this photograph is, although it looks like an innocent civilian about to be shot by an armed force, the man who is about to be murdered was actually the captain of a Vietcong "revenge" squad that murdered hundreds of unarmed civilians. The picture, I think, reveals otherwise. Eddie Adams, the man who took this picture, won a Pulitzer Prize, but was also ridiculed for the rest of his life-- he quit photography, opened up a pizza shop, and ran from his past. Although the picture is misleading, I still think he was telling the truth. He did not capture the captain of the revenge squad killing civilians, but he covered the realities and dirtiness of war that the public had never seen before.

Here is another one.

What is going on here? Kevin Carter, the man who shot this, was revealing the truth. Three months after taking this photo he committed suicide. Why? Because the public ridiculed him for not doing anything for the child after the shot was taken. No one actually knows that, but he endured so much grief from a single shot by showing the public the realities of the famine in Sudan where I am sure there was an abounding amount of starving children, teenagers and adults crawling on the ground, struggling to survive. He was there, telling the truth, believing he was doing the right thing and people got angry. Were they angry at him or themselves? I think photographers like Carter and Adams, are people who put themselves out there to show other people, like you and me, living in the comfort of food and a home, what it is like in other parts world. They are good photographers. They seek the truth. Most people who put themselves in situations like these are not looking for the next big paycheck. They are placing themselves in a foreign environment which can be quite evil and somewhat detrimental, and they are risking being able to pull themselves out of this giant hole of existence because of the things they witness. Usually people like this are only seeking a truth or a reality that many of us will never see firsthand. Photography is an extremely powerful medium and can be most effective when telling the truth.

I feel strongly about my intentions as a photographer and my position as a journalist. I have yet to go overseas and document famine and war, but I hope someday to reveal the darker sides of the life with my camera that we don't get to see and I hope to do it in a way that I think represents the truth.

So, really, is the truth only individual? Is my truth different from your truth, so can anyone really be telling the truth?

It's a question I thought about today. It might be a bit much, but it's fun to think about.

The Good Photographer

2008-11-19T14:15:00.001-08:00

I look at photographs daily. Part of being a good photojournalist means keeping up on your research. I don't know if research is the correct term, but part of keeping up with your talent means looking at others' photographs daily and keeping your mind fresh.

When I was going to school I remember a professor or speaker telling us it's hard to be a photographer this day in age because every photograph you have seen now you have seen once before. I figure photography is just like writing. Many of us try to, or subconsciously try to write like the authors we admire. Some of us, most of us, have tried to capture an image we have seen before or obtain a certain style of another photographer. Creating replicas makes us better. If we don't try the methods and technicals skills that other photographers have already mastered, how are we going to get there? Through this practice, we can only start to obtain our own style with the things we like to shoot.

While looking through 'Day in Photos' in the Washington Post I started to think, 'What makes these such great photographs?' I figure they are selected by some of the best in the business so what may seem like an average photograph might have some hidden meaning or message. I stared closely at each one from the slideshow to try to find a pattern or consistent element within each photograph. Each had something in it you had to look twice at to realize why they chose that particular photograph.

One picture that grabbed my attention was the sort of "right-timing photograph." It might be a good photograph because of the news value or human interest level, but visually it lacks anything that makes a good photograph.

Through more years of shooting and more years of looking at pictures, we as photographers should be able to master the art of the 'good photograph' (human emotion, human interaction, lighting, good composition, and the right situation). I think that is what all of us strive for in the end- to constantly be aware of everything that makes a good photograph. We are observers, watchers. Any place I am in, including this mundane coffee shop I sit in every day, should have a different moment, a different composition, a different light, a different photograph each different day I sit here. We as photographers should always be looking for that shot, no matter how boring the the matter of the situation. National Geographic photographer William Albert Allard once told some of us at the UM that some of the best photographs he has ever taken were during times he didn't want to shoot because he felt he had to prove he could make the situation interesting.

The Show Must Go On

2008-11-18T23:48:00.000-08:00

Today when I made my way to work I planned on being in a good mood. I have been a bit tense, as some might say, over the last few weeks because I have no idea what I am doing with my life at the moment. Once I figure that out, my mind and body will loosen up a bit, but as long as I am sending out portfolios and working at the cafe where everybody knows your name I am going to be as stiff as a board. Ask anyone. I am a scattered individual, but I have everything together. It may not follow the routine path of an organized person, but I still get there just the same.

Anyway, back to my story. I arrived to work at around 7 a.m. and went straight into work-mode. It's an early hour for me so I like to drink some coffee and ease into the job. It was fairly slow this morning so I decided to do some side work before the cattle came in to eat. I was in the back washing the glass cooler doors when my 40-something year old alcoholic co-worker who shows up to work hungover daily chooses to tell me I am spraying too much Windex on the glass. Keep in mind, I have been really tense for quite some time and I am having a wee bit of trouble sweating the smaller things in life. Normally I would have something witty to say back to Rich, but I couldn't handle that comment today. Not today. I flipped around and had a stare-off with Rich. I was speechless, pissed, and about to lose my mind over a silly comment. I walked off, threw the bottle back onto the shelf, and stormed outside to smoke a cigarette and shed a tear. "What is wrong with me?" I am thinking the whole time. I usually can throw something like that aside and get back at the person who is trying to pester me by being overtly nice to them or by asking them personal, weird questions like, "Why is that lighter sitting down by the bread, Rich?" Not today. I couldn't do it today.
The rest of my work day was thrown off and I wanted more than anything to get out of there as quickly as they would let me. Once I got off, I went straight to the computer and started whipping out internship letters to get my head back into what I like and what will help me leave this "so-called" dreaded life.

I only say that because I think we all can get into moments like these, moments that are so meaningless and asinine, and think that the world is literally going to end. When I was a little girl and I started to throw a fit about having to clean my room or because I couldn't go to the fair twice, my mom would always tell me, "Well, at least you have legs," or something to that nature. It's a very simple and very common way to make someone else look at their situation, but it always made me sit back and think about what it would be like if I didn't have legs or any limbs or eyes or a BRAIN.

I have found over the years I really try to treasure the smaller things in my life- a funny joke, a nice meal or sitting in silence with a good friend. I try to laugh at everything possible and really enjoy the littler things because if I can't do that I don't think I will make it in this world. When I found myself getting into a rut today, I pulled up a picture on the Internet that will always makes me laugh. Look at the determination in this dog's eyes. He will make it over that pole. Don't you or your friends worry about it. It makes me laugh hysterically every time I see it. It's small, it's pointless and it's absolutely the thing that makes me realize not to take everything so damn seriously and to lighten up a bit.

This Old Town Ain't Big Enough for the Both of Us, Sir.

2008-11-17T14:39:00.000-08:00

I know I tend to try to run a blog for a little while and I end up giving up on it because I get bored or uninterested in my topics and possibly my life. I now have a computer and feel as if I will be more apt to write on a whim because my communication level is the most accessible it has ever been. I don't have to sit in a computer lab and type about my days or my thoughts. That can get a bit tiring and also a bit weird. I am emotional so if I'm writing down emotional thoughts I don't want to be sitting next to some 20-year old boy writing a 15 page paper or some old bum looking at pornography while I'm spilling a few tears. It's personal.

I am 23 years old and trying to figure out what the hell I am doing with my life. I just don't know. I am working hard on my portfolio day and night desperately searching for a way to a fresh start. Where will that be? I don't really care anymore. I need a place where no one knows me and I don't know them. I was being picky about my locations in my past, but with reality setting in and me getting older, I realize that will not be an option in the earlier part of my career. And maybe that is a good thing. I could fall in love with Ohio. Who knows?

It's funny how desperately I want to run and I am finally at a point in my life where I feel like I have accomplished a lot and I have burned no bridges. I think that is a good time to go. Maybe I feel it and maybe everyone around me feels it. Maybe it's in my eyes. I don't know. I feel it more than I ever have before. I have friends I graduated with, both high school and college, who are getting married, are married, having babies, had babies, etc. I am no where near that point in my life, but I think it has been a huge eye-opener for me. I don't want to be 30-something and only married to my job. I don't think I can move on if I stay in Missoula. I know everyone and everyone knows me. There is no fresh start here. Sometimes you have to leave what you are in love with, no matter how hard it is or how much it hurts you. Everyone grows and needs a change. It takes courage to actually do it and I think that is where I am at in my relationship with myself.