My Most Handsome Man and a Fairly Cool Beetle That Nathan Saved

I love this photo of Brent.

While Mary was here, Nathan kept an eye out for really cool bugs for her to take back for a friend who is enrolled in an etymology class at BYU. When he found this guy, though, he was just so energetic that Nathan didn't have the heart to immortalize him . . . but he did let me get some photos of the little guy before I let him go.

I put a couple of the beetle on my flash drive for my Digital Photography class. We're assigned to bring in images that will be easy to lift off of one image to use in another . . . everything needs to be our own art. No clip art--I'm excited to see what I can do with the Photoshop 5 program that we'll be learning. I've paid for at least three of the five versions of Photoshop, but I've never taken the time or effort to find out even a small fraction of what the program offers.

My whole life has felt like that. I have been offered so much--and I've been too weird or self-centered or mindless or turned-inward to see all the glorious potential for learning or exploring or listening or feeling. I've missed the opportunity to choose from options that I was too lame to look for--or too afraid to take on. My comfort zone still buffers me. When I'm manic or depressed or stressed, I fall back on what is easiest. It is simple for me to perform in front of an audience and much more demanding for me to approach people one on one. Personal friendships carry an emotional price that I would rather pay off in dollars--send out for pizza rather than make home-made soup--send off cards rather than take time for a personal visit. I think about how our family lives now--pool table and a well-loved baby grand piano instead of a dining room table and sofa and chairs. We don't have family dinners at night--Brent gets home and wants a few minutes to unwind from 12 hour days and then he's ready to go to sleep. Our FHEs are on Sunday evenings and take less than half an hour. Nathan gets an over-dose of me as I follow him around some of his college classes taking notes--then our evenings are spent studying, cleaning up after the bunnies, and folding clothes while Brent does his Stake clerk stuff.

I woke up this morning at 6am and had a wild energy spurt at about 8 and I vacuumed the kitchen and family room. The rabbits went wild . . . noise! motion! ACK! They are tired tonight after such an unreal start to their day.

Actually, I am tired tonight. Nathan just brought me a millipede and I am too tired to photograph it tonight . . . so I need to give it some water and tuck it into the lovely dirt that Nathan's already gathered and it can sleep in comfort tonight until I can get some pictures tomorrow.

A son who takes Spanish, Psychology and Algebra by day and takes out the garbage and brings me bugs to see at night.

No wonder Brent is tired. So am I.

Playing With Fire

I have finally downloaded the Photoshop program that came with my drawing pad. I had it on my computer, but I didn't have the time or the interest to figure out how to use it. Last week I was messing around and came out with this picture. I know that Brent doesn't like it when I alter images. For him, photographs are photographs--a picture that captures a particular moment or event. I like trying new things with the photos that I have downloaded or scanned into my picture files. It makes me feel like an artist. I am changing reality and making it into something else. Dangerous? Changing my view of the past can be unsettling for some, I guess. My memories have never been precise images of what actually transpired--no one does. It is amazing to me that any of us can communicate with each other about shared events. State of mind, self image, focus, vocabulary differences, age and purpose all tweek "reality" to fit into our memories--who we are now. Changing pictorial expressions of what was before, crisp photographs, lets me feel that I am in control of my future. Changing the heat--the bad things, the lonely things, the embarrassing things--that produced me imbues me with the ability of a creator--an artisan who can, with incredible heat and force,dd take weak metal and layer and pound out the bad spots and make me stronger than I was before. The difficulties that have been part of my past are gone, but I can take what is there and use it to shape what I do, who I am, today.