In the Eye of the Beholder

When I was in Salt Lake City, I sat in a seminar led by the Unilever Corporation exec and the VP at the marketing firm that was responsible for the Dove Campaign for Real Beauty. Many of you have probably seen this video, titled Evolution. The woman featured is just an average woman, a cartoonist. And when they showed her the final billboard, she didn't recognize herself.

The reason that Dove launched the campaign was in response to the results of a survey conducted that found that an astounding 80 percent of women did not consider themselves beautiful. Many teenagers said they would avoid life activities, such as going to school and playing sports, because of how they look. This led to the iconic little girls commercial that debuted during the Superbowl and showed young girls with tags like "Thinks she's fat" and "Hates her freckles." The whole campaign is beyond marketing genius - it's taken on a role of social commentary that's extraordinary.

And now Dove has launched a new campaign (and, of course, a new product) that features older women in the nude and promotes the ProAge product line. The stance is that beauty has no age limit. Bravo to Dove for finding another way to support women of all ages in feeling beautiful.

Some of that Old Time Religion

Since it's Sunday, I thought I'd post some more of the photos I took in Salt Lake City. In case you don't know, Salt Lake City was founded by Mormon pioneers looking for a place to escape persecution. And right at the center of the city is Temple Square, a nice bit of real estate that houses the buildings of the Mormon church.

There is the temple, the center of the Mormon church, that you can only go in if you're Mormon. I actually saw a guy entering through a door in an alcove using a special key. All throughout the square, there are people stationed to presumably answer your questions about the buildings, but in actuality, want an opportunity to evangelize you.

And then there is the assembly hall built from the granite leftover from the building of the temple. This building, you can go in. And we did. Inside we were approached by no less than three people, including two young women who wanted to send us a video about joining the Mormon family. We declined.

I'm not really sure what is so eerie to me about this experience. I grew up in the Baptist church, so I'm no stranger to organized religion. But I think there is an inherent secrecy about the Mormon faith, a way in which it seems you can only know by getting involved what the faith truly means. At any rate, my travelling companion and I stood curiously outside the temple, and then later, outside the store in the mall called Dressed in White where you can buy garments. We did not purchase our souvenirs there.

Salt Lake City Vistas

It Ain't Easy Being Green

As I’ve already mentioned, Salt Lake City now marks the western boundary of my life’s travels. But the trip itself held more firsts – the strange and the funny.

It was my first time using the bathroom on an airplane. I was prepared for that sucking vortex toilet by my cruise ship experience, but just getting up and walking on the plane was a really new sensation. And then there was being closed into that little closet while the plane shimmied its way through the Rockies.

It was my first real business trip – aside from the Innerbanks excursion. My first professional conference, rife with nametags and keynote speakers and complicated A/V equipment.

In Park City, I ate duck. Never eaten duck before, which is surprising since I am fond of exotic meats. I’ve had bison and antelope and elk, but somehow, never duck.

Usually a bit of a nervous Nelly in unknown territory, I never once felt anxious navigating the streets of Salt Lake City. Of course, my traveling companion had a stellar laid back attitude about exploring the city, but still – first time at ease in a strange place.

And for the most part, I enjoyed these firsts and overlooked the awkwardness of being a greenhorn. At times, though, I felt tense about my inexperience. I spent ten minutes on the plane gauging the distance to the different bathrooms, not wanting to appear as though I didn’t have a sense of the closest one. And then other times, I felt like firsts were being foisted upon me for the sake of it – like being forced to buy a certain kind of candy that I had never had. And during the discussions of places we’d traveled, I became automatically discounted. Dismissed with, “Well I know Ashley hasn’t…”

The circle of my life, while comforting and familiar, does breed a certain degree of dissatisfaction over the things it excludes. All the Ashley Hasn’ts live outside its safe boundaries – risks and adventures and possibilities. I think that very circle is part of what kept me from being any good at creative nonfiction because it enclosed a life devoid of the kind of interest nonfiction essays are made of. After all, my simple suburban upbringing reflected the suburbs themselves, my experiences as mundane and predictable as strip malls and chain restaurants and cookie-cutter neighborhoods.

Not that I'm looking to trade - being green has its advantages, too. Like a real appreciation for the simple things I've never done before and a sense of awe and wonder that a more experienced life might have erased. Nonetheless, the grass is greener on the other side of being green, and whatever comfort there may be in sameness, the unknown looks better all the time.

A Little Flocculence for the MFAers

Me & Motion Sickness

"I think about my fear of motion, which I never could explain. Some other fool across the ocean years ago must have crashed his little airplane." --Indigo Girls, "Galileo"

I never fell victim to true unrelenting motion sickness until I went on a cruise ship five years ago. Despite all promises to the contrary, I noticed the continual motion of the ship, felt disoriented by its movement in one direction while I walked the other. And I spent the whole voyage slightly green, slightly drugged and slightly miserable.

Unfortunately, the flight from Atlanta to Salt Lake City brought on the resurgence of my motion sickness in the most sudden and unexpected way. From the outset, I was determined to enjoy the flight, planning for enough solitude to make my way through a book, maybe a magazine. After takeoff, I spent awhile marveling at the way night literally fell down on the horizon, squeezing the sunset into a thin red line before diminishing it altogether. But traveling westward into the sunset meant that soon after the line disappeared, it reappeared on the irridescent underside of clouds and then as an eerie glow eclipsing on the horizon.

And then I started reading. I read through two beverage services. And through Rudy. Yes, they actually showed Rudy on the plane and wanted you to pay for the headphones to hear it. When I finished my book about 48 minutes outside of SLC, I realized within 6 minutes that I should not have been reading.

My stomach felt oily, and I kept swallowing to tamp down my gag reflex. I decided a trip to the bathroom was in order - just to get up and get my mind off the possibility of tossing my Delta Biscoff Cookies. Unfortunately for me, the women behind me was just beside the bathroom making full use of the airsickness bag.

I managed to hold it together on the flight, because I literally prayed to God to keep me from getting sick. I nearly lost it on the moving sidewalk in the airport and had to rush ahead to solid ground. After trying to fight it off in sleep for several hours, I gave up and let loose everything I ate on Friday.

I couldn't help but think that landing in Salt Lake City marked the edge of my westward travel. I'm 27, and I still haven't quite made it across the country. I've only been to a handful of the lower 48 and never out of the country except on the aforementioned cruise to Cozumel. I'm reticent about travel. I think about it but don't take the time for it. Or when I have time, I travel the same roads that I've always traveled. And it's like my wanting to travel is cancelled out by my fear of the unknown and it all culminates in the pit of my stomach where motion sickness takes root. But perhaps with a little Dramamine and courage, I'll keep going.

Magnetic Poetry Kit: Travel Edition

Until I have enough wits about me to write a real post, enjoy some tidbits from my trip...feel free to move them around on the fridge and make poems out of them. Missed y'all.

jet lag * brisk * sitting * macadamia nut bananas foster waffles * camera * motion sickness * nametag * beverage service * snowing * static electricity * hoofing it * Mormons * breathtaking * architecture * pioneers * alarm clock * keynote speaker * calling * jargon * navajo pottery * a/v equipment * red carpet * plaid lampshade * glacier mints * writing * greek omelette * bathroom phone * clean * reading * solitude * cabin pressure * rudy * revolving door * olympics * remini coffee

Salty Dog

For somebody who hasn't been much of anywhere, I've been on the road a lot lately. This weekend, I'm taking to the air again and heading west for Salt Lake City. I'm traveling to a conference for work with my boss and another coworker, and I'm a little nervous. I'm an anxious traveler at best when it's me traveling for pleasure. But when it's me traveling with people who don't usually see me brush my teeth, well, I get apprehensive. My boss knows me pretty well and knows this quirk of my personality and she's suggesting that I soothe myself with libations. And after the week I've had, I just might.

Somewhere over the midwest, I may not know my name any longer. And that's okay. I hope I forget everything I've left behind at work, undone in my apartment and unpaid among my bills. I hope this persistent icepick headache (see below) goes away and that my jaw can relax so that I don't feel a constant ache. And I hope I stay warm because it's not supposed to get above 40 while I'm there, and, y'all, I'm from Georgia - I'm not bred for that kind of weather.

Will miss you all and the blog. And to Pen & M, please don't relegate me to the luv but blog more column - I'll be back on Wednesday!