Squeedunk

Greetings! I am happy to announce that this blog will be moving to squeedunk.net. I've worked long and hard to get it up to snuff for you guys, and I am very excited to finally share it with you all.  Although Suqeedunk is not perfect (it will always be a work in progress) I nevertheless hope that you enjoy it. For now, Blueeyedridgway will remain active, until the domain expires at the end of this year. If anyone is interested in purchasing it, just shoot me an email. Thank you for all that you do!

-Carly

Roosevelt

As some of you may know--and others may have no clue--my high school (Tulsa School of Arts and Sciences also known as TSAS) will be moving to a new building next year, as well as opening a middle school. Our future home is a magnificent WPA era school that I had the liberty of exploring this past Tuesday during one of the monthly PTSO (Parent-Teacher-Student Organization) meetings. While being able to explore the new building was in-and-of-itself pretty exciting,  I also had the honor of being asked to speak at the meeting about my experience at TSAS. The following is said speech:

–

Hello! My name is Carly Hughes and I am a senior at Booker T. Washington. Haha, just kidding― I am a senior at TSAS, but I imagine you’ve already guessed that much.

I could have been a senior at Booker T., however, because just a little over four years ago I was accepted there as a freshman. And while I imagine that I would have received a fine education had I attended Booker T., I do not believe that I would have become the person that I am today.

In my mind, the distinction between Booker T. and TSAS stems from the manner in which students and teachers interact. And, while I am unable to tell you exactly what it is like to be a student at Booker T., I can tell you that none of my close friends who go there are in a group text with their AP Chemistry teacher. I know that they have never been to their English teachers house for dinner, and I know that they most certainly would never tease their teachers―even if it is in a purely loving and affectionate way. 

TSAS on the other hand, emphasizes ‘mutual respect,’ to the point that it’s probably in the dictionary as a synonym by now. Regardless, TSAS is a place where the teachers care about the students, and the students care about the teachers―something you cant get at a typical school where students are just a face in the crowd, and teachers are just a door with a number. 

The only downside of TSAS is that the more teachers get to know you, the harder they will make you work. Not out of spite, but out of a desire to see you flourish. 

I am currently taking AP Calculous II. As an independent study. While yes, it is partially because TSAS does not offer it as a class, it is primarily a way to challenge myself, and TSAS response to help me do so.

Moving forward I know that the education I have received at TSAS will put me lightyears ahead of my peers, because TSAS has taught me how to think, rather than just what to think. Thank You.

a moment of silence

 If pictures are worth a thousand words, then this post is at least a page. My mind is a whirl, and all I can say is that I hope for more moments like these. 

grownup goodbyes

The distance between my mother and her mother was two decades of angry silence. What closed this gap was something more monumental than a distance being crossed: it was an apology, and a plea to have her mother back in her life, so that her daughter could have a relationship with her grandmother. 

The car I was in when I received a call from my aunt was what closed the physical distance between my childhood and the place where I would become an adult. My aunt was crying and could barely speak, but she managed to tell me to meet her at my grandmother’s house before she hung up. As my breath began to quicken and tears started to fill my eyes, my thoughts immediately jumped to the worst conclusions. When we arrived at my grandmother’s house my uncle led me into the front parlor and told me to wait, as my grandmother was close, and wanted to say goodbye. 

During the wait, my thoughts drifted back to the past few months. In January of 2014 my grandmother was diagnosed with stage four melanoma cancer; it had spread to her lymph nodes and she was terminal. One month later, my mother was diagnosed with stage two breast cancer. Undergoing chemotherapy, my mother had no hair, couldn’t eat much, and spent most of her days curled up in a chair in the living room trying to sleep.

What brought me back to reality was my younger brother. He had entered the front parlor shaking and terrified, unsure of what was going on. When we explained the situation he nodded and looked at the floor, doing his best to hide the tears streaming down his face. As the minutes passed, he slumped deeper and deeper into his chair—closing up on himself, unwilling to acknowledge the sorrow that had filled the room. It was in watching my brother that I realized how fast he had grown up, and how proud I was of the young man he had become. Rising out of my chair, I went over to him and did my best to comfort him. After countless years of squabbling, it was finally time to put our differences aside and be there for each other. 

When it was our turn to say goodbye, my brother and I entered the downstairs bedroom that had been transformed into a hospital room. Between labored breaths my grandmother told us that she loved us, and that she was proud of the amazing people that we had become. She recounted the happiest moment of her life: when for the first time in over twenty years she heard my mothers voice. With tears in her eyes, my grandmother told us how her daughter had called to announce her pregnancy and to apologize. She revealed how the apology was in hope of making amends—so that my mothers unborn child would know their grandmother. It was in recalling this moment years ago—when my mother decided to close the distance with a phone call, an apology, and the announcement of her first pregnancy—that my grandmother made us promise to always stay together as a family.

My grandmother died the next day, and as I watched my mother grieve for the loss of her mother, I acknowledged life as something that is only temporary. While the sorrow that resonated within my heart was crushing, the solace we found within one another made me realize I had become an adult. It had allowed me to recognize the necessity of appreciating the time that I have with the ones that I love, and to never let distance come between us, whether it be figurative or literal.

new negatives

  


If a picture is worth a thousand words, then photography has given me a voice.


–


I am proud to present to you, a small taste of novice film photography.