pink nuclear madness
Today marks the 19th anniversary of the nuclear disaster at Chernobyl. Have I already mentioned that my grandfather was a nuclear physicist? I feel a sick attachment and curiosity to all things nuclear because of him. I took this picture at Trojan Nuclear Power Plant two years ago during my last nuclear binge, wherein I only read books about nuclear disasters, and demanded that I spend all of my free time talking about nuclear disasters or going to nuclear plants for photo shoots! This would be similar to Maria's fixation with serial killers.
When I was a young girl I used to lay awake at night shaking with fear, convinced that at any moment a bomb would drop, igniting the third world war. I have had recurring dreams where people are running for the hills and preparing to survive off of those things my mom always kept stacked neatly in the garage: bottled water, TVP and extra large cans of food you would never want to eat unless you were in the middle of a nuclear holocaust.
I still pronounce it nucular. I know, I know. I have a speaking disorder.