men and mountains

For a long time one of my favorite lines in literature was "What are men to rocks and mountains?" It adequately portrayed my view of the male population in general and I used it to make it seem like I was well read as well as a hippy. These allusions are ones that I still work to maintain in my current life, which I accomplish by throwing the peace sign up in all situations, wearing sandals to literally every social event, and carrying a book around. You know, just in case I get the sudden urge to better my mind in the middle of the meat aisle.

Anyway, the quote makes it seem like enjoying men and nature are mutually exclusive occurrences. I'm here now to adamantly declare that they are not. In fact, when combined, the result is an increased appreciation of both entities.

Did I say an increased appreciation?

Oh yeah, I did. 

Good, just checking.

I rest my case. 

peace and red beans

rrw

this is unnatural

You know why we, as humans, are designed to sleep for a good portion of the 24 hours allotted to a day? Because when we don't sleep our brains suddenly go into hyper speed and the next thing you know you've completely rearranged your class schedule, planned out your graduation, whitened your teeth, applied to a job, stared at the fish swimming in its tank for an undocumented amount of time, re-rearranged your class schedule, created a budget for your less than meager income, and written a blog post. And to think I could be dreaming of living in cotton candy clothes.

Instead I'm sitting on my couch trying to decide between a class on public ethics and one entitled "Jurisprudence." I kind of really want to take them both but they're at the same time so I guess I'll just have to talk to Hermione about getting one of those time turners and now I realize that my brain has stopped thinking in punctuation so let's just all get on board with a huge run-on sentence except I'm not good at running so I'm bagging that now.

The point is, we are meant to sleep. Obviously. And I am here at 4:49 AM going against what my body was intended to do. And I'm wearing my retainer. Which is a completely unnatural contraption.

And now here are the last 4 photos on my phone, just to satisfy your curiosity.

peace and pillows
it's time i made up with it.

rrw

by any other name

I read somewhere, at sometime, that nicknames were a sign of endearment and affection, so I take the fact that my name has been altered and built upon in a variety of ways as a good thing. Some of the names may have originated as a form of ridicule, but I still choose to take them as form of flattery. Because I am empowered and can choose to blindly assume that all who come in contact with me love me if I want to.

Anyway, I was mentally listing all the nicknames I have been given in my life. And because the only better thing I have to do than write them all down for your benefit is eat all of these chocolate covered goji berries, I'm going to exercise my multitasking ability and do both. We will follow a chronological listing.

Ages 0-5

As a toddler I liked to chew things (which my family expounded upon with song at one point), loved being strapped into a life jacket, and resembled a chubby Asian child more than anything else.

The Names:
Rach
Rachy Boo Boo
Rach-meister


Ages 10-18

Fortunately for the world there is very little documentation of my late elementary/junior high life. I was lanky and taller than most people in my grade with buck teeth and bony knees. Actually it's a real shame I can't show you what I was. It might act as a sort of handicap and excuse for my current appearance, because sometimes I just don't want to shower or put real clothes and makeup on ever. 

#innerbeauty

The Names:

Beavy
Mr. Mole Man
Ratchel
Bunny
Rachebunny
Beverly
Bon Qui-Qui


Ages 19 to Current Day

I don't have much to say about myself now except for that I really, really like dairy products.

The Names:
Ray
Ray-Ray
Momma
Momma Ray

****

At this point I wish to take a moment and acknowledge the givers of my "Momma Ray" nickname.

Even while in Turkey, they still see signs of me.

kinda

What studs.

****

Rachy Rach
Rachy
Ms. Waychel
Sneezeasaurus
Ratchet
Ratchel (revived)
Ice Queen
Rach-babe


So take your pick or make your own. I'm still waiting for someone to refer to me as Star of the Universe.
Just saying.

peace and goji berries
i don't even know what these are. they make my taste buds sing.

under God

My recent physical condition has caused all those who would call themselves my most dear to put a wide distance between me and them. I can't really blame them. I mean, when your saliva is basically radioactive, you wish you could give yourself some distance as well. In fact, I've prayed for that exact thing quite a few times in the last few days but I'm not about to get all religious on you so let's move on which i realize is ironic considering the title of the post. The point is, for the first time in my entire life, I spent the 4th of July alone. All alone. From the time of 6 pm (when my little sister left on her date and i mean what the heck why is she having success in all the places i've previously failed in life?) until...well...I'm still here alone, I have spent my time with the TV watching Will Smith save the planet over and over and over again because for some reason channels like to play Independence Day back to back to back to back on the 4th of July. That, along with the constant companionship of my strong and then stronger pain medicine, has made for quite the holiday. here's to the land of the free and the home of brave. except i'm terrified of moths so do i count as a citizen here?

Well, I finally decided to do something besides rearrange the magnets on the fridge into different faces of sadness and pain and went on a drive. I put my thinking music on and went up the canyon as everyone else was driving down i do what i want and just thought. I thought about a lot of things, like whether or not I was even allowed to be driving with certain medication that may or may not have been in my system. I thought about the first time I drove all the way up that canyon and my best friend almost threw up on me, the happy news my family just received, how many pounds of mashed potatoes I've eaten in my life, and whether or not I'll ever return to Provo.

Then I reached the top, parked the car, got out, and sat on a rock.

My thoughts changed at that point. I sat, looking at the natural skyline of the Wasatch mountains, listening to the water tumble down the canyon. The silhouettes of the pines and aspens stood out against the moon and clouds and the grasses in the meadow gently stirred and slowly danced as a cool breeze wound it's way up and down the small valley. And it hit me. That is America. That is my home. That is the land I am proud and extremely grateful to live in.

Our government and our people are not perfect. We are all corrupt, selfish, and overly opinionated. But the valleys and rivers and mountains and lakes are not. The people can be lazy and greedy and incompetent. But the coasts and forests and plains never are. If only the people of this nation could invoke as much conviction, honor, and love as my 6 minutes in the mountains did. And if we could only live to be worthy of this beautiful place.

Happy Fourth Yo.
rrw