There are so many interesting (or... rather, fascinating?) people in my life, and I don't even know how/when to talk about them. Unfortunately, all of my developments about those close to me have been put on hold. Last night, I volunteered for the Obama 2012 campaign, making phone calls to different homes. I now know of a fantastic way to study people: call them during dinner with a planned script and see what happens. I was bright and perky as always, and while some appreciated it, others did not. I got lots of responses. About 80% did not answer the phone (One voice-mail was a bunch of dogs barking to Jingle Bells). Those who did answer were not always in the happiest of moods. This, of course, is understandable. Though I was trying to be happy and keep things from turning into a debate (out of the 100+ people I called, only 3 said they would be voting for Obama) with all the Romney supporters, many people wanted to start a fight with me. My personal favorite was an 81 year old man who told me I shouldn't be allowed to vote until I'm 35 and can realize that Obama would be horrible (I did inform him that I, in fact, am unable to vote at all). Another favorite of mine was a woman who brought up gun control. I started to read her the paragraph all about what Obama will be doing with that, but halfway through she interrupted and went on a tangent about the Colorado Movie Theater Massacre. That was one of my favorite parts- trying to spit out facts about Obama while agreeing that it was a horrible event and that no president would ever be supportive of it. I was given a list of people's genders and ages to try to cater the conversation to things that they might be interested in. One of the most enjoyable people was a woman whose daughter answered the phone. I talked to the mom all about education and taxes, and the woman said that she had actually learned a lot from what I had told her. Even though most of the calls ended up with a voice-mail or me being harassed by strangers, I really did learn to get a feel for people over the phone in just a few hours. 

When in doubt, take pictures of flowers.

Now here is one lady whom I cannot figure out. Or, rather, I am slightly afraid to attempt to dissect. Not because she is scary, no, but because I get queasy whenever she is nearby. Luckily, she is now in Utah, so I do not feel bad talking about her. Julie. Julie, Julie, Julie. What are we going to do with you? She seemed so nice at first, and, trust me, she is. But, the niceness suddenly took a turn for the worst after a few days in Lyle. Failing to comprehend that we were not 4th graders and no one knew her music, she continued to try to get us involved in camp activities. I truly do appreciate her effort. It was hard the first day, going to a camp with complete strangers. But it all seemed so forced. In his novel Fly Fishing with Darth Vader, Matt Labash talks about the problems faced by companies who force the incorporation of "fun" into their day to day activities. "Fun" is not always actually fun. When employees are pushed to join alternative Olympic games or picnics, they are not always enjoying themselves. What makes something fun? For me, it has to be spontaneous or something that I don't see everyday. And I need to want to do it. I need to be a part of its creation and I need to make the decision of whether or not to participate, not have it forced upon me. And Julie broke this. She had good intentions, but by pushing us to do things that we were not interested in, they were not enjoyable. 

I'm not going to lie- I did feel very creepy taking this picture. But I also was so happy sitting there watching this whole event, that I needed to try to document it some how. Sitting on the beach next to Horse Thief Lake, I observed all of the children swimming and splashing. One girl sat in the sand, gazing out at all the other kids. I felt connected to her right away. No one wants to be left out and unable to join in a fun activity. I was about to ask her to come take pictures with me, when her mom approached her. "Come one, you can do it!" This little bit of inspiration go the child to take a few steps in. Within a few minutes, she had the safety of her floating turtle tube, and was able to swim out there, no longer needing her mother's hand. As depicted in the photo, the mom was shocked. And pleased. All her daughter needed was a small push, a bit of encouragement, and she was able to conquer her fright.  

Chuck drove us to the top of a hill. Nauseous from the short off-road journey, we all hopped out to take shots of the Columbia River Gorge. Rattle snakes were announcing themselves all around us, yet we could see none. With caution we walked to the top and looked out. While others were fascinated by the view, several of us focused on what lay at our feet. Pistol and rifle shells dotted the dirt. Juxtaposition laid animal bones and a sole empty bottle of whiskey. This began the inspiration for this blog. What were all of these things doing here together? This was no typical tourist hike, it was just a small farm area. What man came up here? Was he shooting animals or trying to shoot the bottle? Did the bottle stay in tact simply because he had drunken the entirety of its contents before hand? If so, then how does the animal come into place? We go through life seeing all of these things every day, but it is rare that we really think about them and try to piece together a story or explanation. So I tried, and now I am left curious.