"We cross our bridges as we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and the presumption that once our eyes watered."

--Tom Stoppard, Rosencratz and Guildenstern are Dead

Eighteen Months

I have an oral presentation to prepare for my 8 o'clock class tomorrow. I have a comprehensive German grammar and strong verbs exam tomorrow.

But I'm having trouble focusing.

I'm going to miss this blonde-haired girl for the next 18 months.

She is awkward and unabashedly herself. She is funny as all get out, and we survived a summer of camp together. When I told her I was engaged, her first response was "I'm not surprised, I saw it coming." Typical Leah.
Sometimes I think about the times when I wasn't patient with her, and I'm regretful.
But there's always tomorrow and the next week, month, year. Ample time to make things better and strengthen relationships. The most important thing, though, is that I focus on that today.

Ciao, Leah. Gott sei bei dir, bis wir uns wiedersehen.

Yes, yes, and yes

"A world which is a better place not just for some women, but for all women" has yet to be realized. "In what I still call a socialist feminist vision, that would be a far better world for boys and men, as well."

--Lynne Segal

You don't have to know what you want to do for the rest of your life, you just have to know what you want to do next.

Put Your Hand Up

Put your hand up if you're tired of those surface relationships. *raises hand*

You know, those relationships where you know each other for months or years and you never seem to get passed "How are you? How's school? Oh good, glad to hear it" followed promptly by silence and thoughts of departure. The ones where you don't delve beneath the surface, where you dig to find some other mundane detail of life to devour in conversation simply to avoid awkward silence. The relationships in which the other person could tell you what classes you're taking, what grades you make, maybe what you like to eat or how your parents are doing, but they know little of your heart. They know little of your passions or pursuits, your hopes or dreams, or what occupies your thoughts for hours on end.

And you know what? I'm over it. I'm over these surface level relationships. They frustrate me, they make me nervous in the face of social situations. I'm tired of trying to invest in a relationship that's not going anywhere. I fret over these instances and constantly think of how it could be, but it does no good. I could probably be more proactive about pursuing and creating these deeper level relationships, but it has to be a mutual effort, and oftentimes it's not.

In the words of the oh-so-philosophical Nacho Libre, I want to get down to the nitty gritty. I want to know who people are, because I want to have deeply fascinating conversations about life. So I'm going to start making an effort towards this.

Happy

I'm not a very avid blogger. Clearly.

But just an update: I'm happy, and here's a clue as to why...

I've had a hard time reconciling with myself the fact I got married so young. People liked to tell me that, even after the wedding, and it's always bothered me. I was and am keenly aware of how young I was; I know how it sounds. But you know what? Nathan makes me really happy, and our relationship is the most fulfilling of my life. Here's to what matters most.

Lately

Lately I've been thinking about growing up. And you know what? Sometimes it's hard.

As a little girl I was so anxious to be older. I wanted to wear make-up, shave my legs, and be on my own. I couldn't wait to be older and more mature. I was a dramatic little kid.

Growing up has come naturally to me. I've always been a mature person. In high school my friends liked to say that I was born sixteen, and I think my mother would almost agree with that. I am a naturally an independent person, and my parents instilled in me a healthy sense of responsibility. Transitioning from high school to college was smooth, the only bump being my first night (which I spent alone) in my college apartment. And then I got married, which brings with it a whole new batch of responsibilities that smack more of adulthood than only being in college.

And really, it wasn't until I got engaged that I started realizing how young I am. And the moment after my wedding luncheon ended, I cried, triggered by this immense feeling of "you're not a little kid anymore." I felt so old but still so young, and I wanted to curl up in my mom's arms.

Then life moved on. Back to school, the hustle of exams and research and final papers, and I get swallowed up in the stress and excitement. But lately I've had a lot of free time to think and consider what I want to do after graduation. Graduate school? Work? Something else? A month ago I had a direction and a plan, but I've realized how many possibilities there are, and I begin questioning my original plans. Maybe I want to pursue something else? Maybe I just want to go home, back to Tennessee. When I was in high school, it was mostly Colby, Abby, Leah, and me. Those three are still there while I'm still in Utah, and I can't shake this feeling of wanting to go home to my siblings and parents.

I feel as if I'm walking a fine line between moving forward with my life and going backwards, so I've come to the conclusion that growing up is hard.  

Park City, Short Hair, and Other Tid-Bits

Sorry it's been so long.

Anyways. I have a job, and I work, and Nathan is getting paid to research, and I'm going through something of a mid-life crisis, so we went to Park City this Memorial Day. Because somehow all of those thoughts are connected to one another.

We hiked up a mountain (which was really more or less a big hill), I forgot to put sunburn on my neck so now it's nice and pink, we ate at this shady deli on Main Street, decided to not pay $40 for the alpine coaster that was going to last maybe two minutes, and went swimming at our hotel. It was memorable and actually a really nice chance to get away. Oh, we also recycled all the cardboard and glass that's been laying around our house for the last several months. Park City has a 5,000 sq ft. recycling facility, and I really like that about the city. I wish more towns had a recycling service that comprehensive.

The set-up reminded us of the Alps in Germany, and so we concluded that we could see ourselves living in Park City if we had to live in Utah.

We ended our trip with some disappointing gelato that cost way too much for too little, and so when we got to Provo we went to the Creamery.

Also, I got another haircut. I seem to chop off my hair every two years, so it's a thing. See below for more details.

"It's you I like.
It's not the things you wear.
It's not the way you do your hair
But it's you I like.
The way you are right now
The way down deep inside you.
Not the things that hide you.
Not your caps and gowns,
They're just beside you.
But it's you I like.
Every part of you.
Your skin, your eyes, your feelings
Whether old or new.
I hope that you remember
Even when you're feeling blue.
That it's you I like,
It's you, yourself
It's you.It's you I like."

"...it's likely that each of us, despite our best intentions, carelessly conflates the power to act in God's name [the priesthood] with the vehicle designed to administrate its use."

--Naylene McBaine

Photography as a Truthful Medium

Today in class, Dr. Clark was talking a lot about photography.
He was saying how photography has this reputation for being the most truthful representation, when in reality this veracity was never the case. There have always been staging and editing of photographs before or after capturing the scene, combining of different prints to get the desired finished product, etc. Then he made the observation that, unlike human sight, photography offers a tunneled view of things. He supported this claim with the fact that humans can turn and physically move so as to view something else, but you can't do that with a photograph. Photographs offer a narrow perspective of events, places, and people.

And this is true, but I think that human vision is guilty of the same thing.

How many times do we think we get the whole story by looking at someone or something? We read an article or two about an occurrence, feel informed, establish an opinion, and think we know what went on or what should happen to remedy the situation. We see what people wear, say, laugh at, etc., and begin to think we know who they are as a person, what they believe or think. We want so much to believe that the whole story is right there in front of our eyes, but it never is. The only thing we come close to entirely understanding are our own actions, and even our comprehension of ourselves is rather limited.

So I would put forth the following claim: photography is the *most truthful medium, because it unmasks human vision's own limitations.

Like photography, our vision is that of a tunnel, and quite naturally so. As humans, as organisms and animals, it's natural for us to be egocentric to one degree or another. I think we kid ourselves to say that we enjoy this freedom of sight and perspective that isn't limited, edited, or partial when in reality it is all of the above. Like photography, we never see the whole story; we never see a vision of something that isn't clouded by our own perceptions or experiences. Our reality is cropped, framed, and limited. Even after we experience something, how often do we go back and try to understand the situation, put a new spin on it, and even alter our opinion of what happened? Our reality is akin to the "reality" put forth by photography.

In that way, photography is very real, because it replicates human sight. So I would call it a "truthful" medium.


*I don't know if I would call it the "most" truthful, because I think that painting is similar to photography in many regards, but more thoughts on that later. 

My [hip-hop magic jazz fingers] Nathan

So today, we were ordering our Bountiful Basket (if you don't know what that is, go here for more information). Bountiful baskets come with lots of fresh fruits and veggies, but they also offer what are called "add-ons." These are additional items you can order such as bread, additional produce, etc. Nathan and I were trying to decide which add-on we wanted, and we were corresponding over email (oh you know, this one looks good, but what do you want? I dunno, this one looks good, too. What do you want? etc.) when Nathan busted this out:

"Alas, my decision is yet delayed, for my tastebuds yearn for one add-on like unto many others.  That is to say, I think the 5 9-grain loaves sounds delish.  That's currently my only competitor with the tropical hip-hop magic jazz fingers add on.  My only worry is, we don't have room to freeze four loaves of bread, much less three.  I therefore must conclude that if thou hast no objections to the magical flip floppety tropical add on, that this will be a choice of superior quality and wisdom.  I thank thee.  What says't thou?"

It was one of those moments where I realized the great choice I made in marrying this multifaceted and quick-witted husband of mine. 

Something Way Cool

I just rediscovered Christine de Pizan, and so should you: The Book of the City of Ladies
I want to read this book. To think that other women, well before the twenty-first century, were taking care to preserve the memory of other influential women is astounding, and I want to know about them. Who doesn't want a renegotiation of the Medieval Era's popular image?

Feminist Confessions

Lately I've been toying with the idea of starting an LDS feminist blog. But I really don't think I could keep it up on a regular basis, and I'm not sure I have something to contribute. I like reading and being aware of discourses. So maybe I'll just compile links of good blogs or articles to read. (Sometimes I wish there was more of that on the internet.) Or maybe write a blog about Mormon women's history. Guys, that stuff is inspiring and so interesting, and I want to talk about it more. I'll consider it.

So I'm not changing my last name. It's been a year, and I've yet to really come out and announce it to people. I'm not sure how to do this, which is why I'm posting it on this blog that three people read. I just need to put it out there, ya know?

Some may wonder why. Well. There are a lot of reasons.
I grew up a Maxfield, and I spent many years crafting my identity as Emaline Maxfield. I attach a lot of significance to names. I was never raised a Rodriguez, I don't feel like a Rodriguez. I feel like Emaline Maxfield, daughter of Clark D. Maxfield and Melissa May Thompson Maxfield. I like the idea of crafting my own identity without feeling pressured by societal expectations, and I want my children to know that.
The list goes on, I promise. But I won't list them here. If you're really curious, feel free to ask me about it. I'm happy to discuss it with you.

On that note, let me say this: I believe that every woman has the choice to do what she wants when it comes to changing or not changing her last name, and I respect that--truly. My opinions are personal, and I don't impose my beliefs on others.

For most of my life, I've spent my time feeling inferior to others.
I felt like I didn't have the right clothes, right make-up, right hair, or enough knowledge to confidently approach someone.
And this needs to stop. Not just for me, but for everyone.
I don't need exterior accoutrements to be who I want to be.
Comparing myself to others is nothing but damaging.
Confidence comes from the inside, not on the outside.
I am an imperfect but capable person, just like everyone else out there.
For the first time, I actually believe this.
I'm not just repeating something for the sake of saying it because it's good.
For the first time, I'm going to start acting like the confident, capable, and yet imperfect person that I am.