Houses on the water are homey, I'm guessing because they are somewhat poetic. The above housing is in Seattle, WA. My college trip to Seattle last winter resulted in more pretty pictures than future plans there, however I'd love to move to one of these swamp-witch houses after school.

Seattle.

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“Pig-face!” is a terrible insult.
“Baby-face”…? Not easily dismissed.
“Cutie-face,” however, is a compliment that adorable, little munchkins and I are faced with. The Lord God is said to give every person on earth a different face. Apparently, however, he giveth some childish features and taketh away their maturity credentials. Damned me, a cutie-face.

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It takes an acquired taste to appreciate the simplicity of a small, undulous town. Fort Morgan is strewn with silent corners, such as the 18-hole golf course at which I spend all of my spare time. For college, and paraphernalia I suppose, the job is worth the monogamous hours. Lying on my makeshift bed of café chairs, reading My Life in France and all of Julia Child’s voicey pages, I can appreciate the quiet corners.
I might feel differently tonight, however, when I’m at le accueil alone and perhaps a tad depressed, bored to misery.

Is that Rosa Parks?

In 1955, Rosa Louise McCauley Parks refused to sit at the back of a pubic bus merely because of her race, leading to the Montgomery Bus Boycott. Since then, America as a whole has obviously taken some giant steps toward racial equality. Above, President Barack Obama appears to be smiling as he exits a nearby bus (I like to believe that he's thinking of Rosa). This photograph is a reminder of how the Movement began in the mid 1900's, and that Obama is truly an amazing person for overcoming any of today's racial aspects of the presidential race.

Photography by Scout Tufankjian
www.scouttufankjian.com

Ben Chrisman photography:

While browsing professional wedding photos online i came across a photographer by the name of Ben Chrisman. His portfolio made me smile so wide that I decided his photos need to be shared on photojournalism (though they have no story, but most, a poem).

i carry your heart(i carry it it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
it is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

- e e cummings

Well behaved women rarely make history
Laurel Thatcher Ulrich

She'll change her name today
She'll make a promise, and I'll give her away
Standing in the bridesroom
Just staring at her
She asks me what I'm thinking
And I said I'm not sure...
I just feel like I'm losing my baby girl.
She leaned over and gave me butterfly kisses

-Bob Carlisle

"whew!"

A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature
to stop speech when words become superfluous

-Ingrid Bergman

And in the end it's not the years in your life that count.
It's the life in your years.

-Abraham Lincoln

Guys & Dolls performance boasts large attendance

Fort Morgan High School's fall musical, Guys & Dolls, was a classical hit for both the young and old. Tonight's evening performance kicked off the students' opening-night enthusiasm with an entrance line wrapping from the cashier to the parking lot doors. "We ran out of tickets!" tech crew member Tanner Schaeffer worried. He had been temporarily recruited to the position of cashier #2 to accommodate for the high number of attendants and low amount of staff.
The fans were good both for the profits and the performers. "God, now I HAVE TO do a good job, the whole town showed up," were the thoughts of lead role Malorie Winberg before the musical began.
Under any circumstances, any lighting, or any sound difficulties (surprisingly few in number this fall) only good things can be said of Guys & Dolls' 2008 production (last performed at FMHS in '85). Undoubtedly, the attendants expected such, explaining the drastic rise in number of tickets sold. Furthermore, according to previous FMHS statistics this number is only expected to rise as the weekend performances progress.
To any future audience members: Don't hold your breath dreaming that you'll get a good seat at Guys & Dolls, it is likely that the show will be sold out before curtain call.


Photos by Alison Noon

Town embarrassment: sugar beat factory

The Sugar Beat Factory. Smelly, ugly, and giving this podunk town a bad rep with visitors ("Ew, WHAT is that smell?!" )
I have compiled a list of favorite adjectives for this unfavorable factory:
putrid, repugnant, phantasmagorical, hassle, unnecessary, humongous, rank.
These words have inspired an ongoing story:
"Awakening to the lulling whir of train cars rushing over nearby tracks, with toes peeking out the end of the covers, Emily uncompromisingly pulled open her eyelids. It was early enough that there would be no rush in her morning routine, so she took her time rising to her feet. She washed, brushed, dressed, and gathered items for the day ahead before heading to Safeway for an assagio bagel. Into the geo Em went. Though obeying the speed limit at all times, it wasn't long before she reached Alco Road, which would lead straight to the town Sugar Beat Factory. While rounding a curve in the road, a fowl stench lurked into the vehicle. Tears began to fill her eyes, her nose screamed to her, "Turn around!" But Emily had to ignore her aching body, no matter which anatomical part spontaneously acquired human-like qualities. Past the cemetary, finally in view now was the factory of horror. "...
If I were to ever finish this, it would conclude somewhat along the lines of "the sugar beats came to life and attacked Emily! She tried to run but the beast's looming towers took hold of her feet and held tightly until....She was swallowed completely by the Sugar Beat Factory and burped out as a mere cloud of smoke."

Photo by Alison Noon