Sleepless

I am sleepless mostly, I mean, until I am exausted. Staying up all night doing god knows what- tonight, last night, I drank with friends thinking it would let me sleep... instead it kept me up with them until late, I think I got a little shut-eye but then suddenly I was realizing something spilled on my iphone and it's all flashing white and now wont turn on. Just my luck. I don't even believe in luck. Honestly, I know I did it to myself. Carelessness. Negative thinking. Now I'm wondering who is up at this hour, and surely, mostly, I am not. Except lately. Staying up all night, sleeping all day. I'm tired and wondering, should I stay up? I don't want to anymore but maybe it's the right choice. Sweet sleep, sweet rest- rest from my mind, the ever wondering and planning, worrying and dreaming. Nothing seems right, as if I'm just waiting for the new year, to start new and be done with whatever I've done this year. Wandering, trying to figure shit out. What will be the purpose of 2011? What will be my new goals? Certainly graduating in May. God, so many obstacles in my way- how will I pay rent? How will I eat? Food, now there's a luxury... It's funny because I feel so good in my new room, all burgundy perfect (it's called "bohemian red" how fitting) and my raised futon with all my summer clothes stored underneath and my draping sheer canopy to make me feel like a princess. The littlest princess. And I'm proud of my bookshelf, all sporting Jane Eyre and Vonnegut and, shit, a tattered Bible that's not mine but I find beautiful. A friend yesterday, who had never seen my room (and no one has seen my room look like I want it to, until lately) says "just as I imagine and artist's room to look like" and I like this idea of me, an artist.

So strange... to think of myself as an artist. a Photographer. I think I like artist better but I wonder how pretentious it is to call myself either of those things, and I don't think I've earned it yet.

yet.

Photo Journalism, C? really??

Miranda chasing after her boyfriend, Dominick

My professor for Photo Journalism gave me a C and I feel it's completely unfair. Okay, maybe not completely, seeing as I didn't exactly do many of the assignments that I was supposed to do- however, most of what I shoot is in a documentary and journalistic sort of way, or at least I think so. So I didn't shoot sports, weather or hard news, so what? I traveled the eastern half of the US as a model and took pictures most of the way- given most everyone hasn't seen most of those pictures, but so what? They're still there, and I let him look through my binders. I've shot more than anyone in the school this year, and have taken the class like five fuckin times. And I know he failed me in the past because he knew I could do so much better. But this time I spent my whole summer with Photo J in mind, and I still get a C. And you know what? That means I loose my State aid. Okay okay so it might also have to do with the Fs I got in my "gym" class and my math class. Stupid stupid stupid.

I guess on principle I feel I deserve at least a B in Photo J, seeing how much I shoot, and that I DO in fact, consider my self a "social documentary portraitists".

Watch, I fuck up so many semesters and crunch time comes along and my last semester will be stellar. I want that degree so bad it hurts.

Model and Photographer

This picture has really nothing to do with this entry, though I'm not entirely sure because, well, I haven't written the entry yet. But look how cute Melody and I are? Could those smiles be any bigger, eyes more squinty or hug tighter?! Naww, didn't thinks so.

We have a lot of problems, her and I, getting along. For multiple different reasons and such, but ultimately I know her and I will be best of friends again sometime soon, when our lives come back together after years of floating in other directions. I look forward to working with her- I want to work together as models and photographers, or some such combination.

After all, she IS the one who showed me how to use my SLR... She is the reason I took photography as a major at all, actually. In Highschool she took photography classes while I was off retaking classes, and she showed talent in it- I liked what she did so I figured that I couldn't be too bad at it, either. We ARE twins, afterall. Besides, it would be a great "backup" plan to modeling, and help me be a better model, too. You know, knowing both sides of the camera.

Fuck, man, what a good move. It's worked out pretty good for me, though is still quite the struggle. I look at all my work (esspecially lately, with the end of the semester just a week away) and I don't really like any of my work. I'm bored of it. And I don't have any one to shoot up here in Utica, NY. I don't want to struggle to get a good shot of someone, I want them to be on the same page as me, know how to move, and be unafraid of the camera.

I want models.

Melody has a lot of model friends. That'd be cool, if I were around all of them. But I'm not crazy about Chicago.. I want to be warm places!

We'll see, we'll see....

First order of business is passing all my classes this semester. Six days....

Saying

I have a lot to say, though I'm not always sure what it is that I'm saying.

Maybe I haven't been updating because I don't think it's any of your god damn business.

Maybe it's because I'm too busy living my life.

Suffice it to say, I'm pleased with this photograph. Picture. Pic. What the fuck ever.

More soon. Let's get this ball rolling again.

On your own

photo by Art Tavee

My thoughts drift away again and I'm thinking of you... Yes, you, there, in the black.

All my lovers wear black.

And they see me there... or there.... or this way, or that, and yet I feel misrepresented, is it my fault? Or are they not paying attention? I'm probably eluding them, avoiding and scheming. Can you scheme subcontiously? I think I can. I think I can read your mind, too, so watch your eyes...

And I'm thinking of you.

Are you thinking of me?

no body likes you, Meagan... It's a whisper in my ear lately and I wonder if it's the echo's off the walls of my jaded thought prison or the looks in other people's eyes, the unformed words on their lips. Are you judging me? and I wish I could seep into the background and I can't and I think it's because I'm tall or maybe it's the whole I-can't-keep-my-mouth-shut thing cause surely it can't be this face, too plain, this body, too big. You talk too much. Worry too much. Care too much. Too many mistakes. Do you remember me the way I remember you? I feel like these photographs are lying to me, all of them, and they seem not right to my memory. You in the kitchen. The smell of your hair. On the rainy streets, holding your hand, your smile. I'm remembering a concoction and it never went that way, only in fleeting moments. Remember that dinner? I remember them all.

But it's time to let that all go.

Let it go... be content alone...

A lesson I've been trying to learn most of my life.

Dawn in the Sky

It's funny to me, how different people see me completely differently. One day I have someone telling me to go kill myself, the next someone else praising me for everything that I am. Makes me wonder who actually knows me or who I actually am. I do know, however, that the person who tells me to kill myself is a cruel bastard with nothing to do better than to warp his understanding of me and take his anger and hate of the world and his own life out on me. I know that I am just fine without those sorts of people in my life, or anyone connected to them. My life has gotten much better in the last couple months as I let those people go. I'm sad to let them slip through my fingers, but relieved to be gone of one more drama or one more negative aspect in my life. Things have changed, I am changing, and I will rise up stronger and better than you. And one day you'll apologize...

In the meantime...

I've spent so much dreaming and energy into the idea of following the sunset to California, chasing the sun into the desert... That it never even crossed my mind what it would be like to experience it the other way around.... Leaving Seattle in a 6am flight, it was overcast and predawn.. but as we rose into the clouds, the light sifting through and we broke out to the open sky and the dawn staring me in the face, the colours of the clouds so close I could touch them if not for the glass.. and I cried at the thought of rising up and meeting the sun head on, of the strength and love I feel for the sun and everything it represents for me, the beauty I see in this world in spite of the ugly hearts of others.

It was the most amazing sunrise I have experienced and probably will ever experience. Words don't do it justice, and neither does this photograph. But in my head, it will stay, and I hope for all those other dreamers out there, that you get to experience a similar dawn as well.

On my way off the plane, I looked at the pilot and told him the sunrise was beautiful. All I could think of was how wonderful it must have been from his seat. He said he enjoyed it as well. I was hoping to get better pictures than I did, but this one will have to suffice. I was hoping to have copies every time I flew, because god knows, there's no way a pilot could not enjoy that. I've sat in cockpits and know that anyone who flies a plane, certainly loves it more than anything else.

I love it, too.

And I think him and I were the only ones watching.

Do you look out the window?

Two Weeks In.

This traveling bug is fucking INSATIABLE and I spend all my time planning and plotting my next moves. I've gathered my wits and I've been on fire for weeks, ever since I decided to go back to school. I make lists in my head of things I need to be doing, and on paper, and I do them! I wake up at seven am and force myself out of bed and am miserable to get out of bed but elated to be going to school and getting into the rythm of it. Three out of my four school days I have an 8am four hour class, and every other day I have a math class that takes up an hour and fifteen precious minutes of my day to torture me with little numbers and lines that make no sense to me! I hate it, but I remind myself every day that it's important if only that it'll insure my degree. Next semester is going to be insane. This semester is insane already! I'm fuckin on the ball, or so I feel. I mean, it's only two weeks in but I think the other students are getting an idea of how cool I am, and I try to be nice and not standoffish or act elitist or anything like that. Which I don't mean to do, but sometimes it just happens. Particularly at school. I just get in such a tunnel vision and all I can do and think of is my work and how best to utilize my time in the labs. Scan negatives while printing colour. Multiple enlargers. go go go. So much to do!

and it's wonderful. Really really wonderful. I feel so good about it all, and I'm getting into the right way and I feel like everything will be okay.

Next serious goal: Quit smoking.

Back to School!

So I'm all enrolled in classes as of almost two weeks ago and waiting for my financial aid to come through. I'm anxious and dying to know whether I'll actually be able to go to school or not, or if I have to get a job to pay for rent. I'd rather not, I'd rather have loans and just bang out photography non stop for the next two semesters, it would be so amazing. I want that so badly. All I've been thinking about lately is having my own apartment again, with ALL of my stuff. Having a portrait corner with lights, my computer and external hard drive and scanner all set up. God damn I want a home again, my own place. I miss that so much. Cleaning high on Sundays and drinking coffee to some music or movie while networking online. My own space.

I also have three 8am classes this semester. All of them the four hour photo classes. Photo Journalism on Monday (whcih will be about the fifth time I've taken it... literally), Studio Techniques on Wednesday (all tabletop product, borinnnngggg) and Color Photo on Thursday, which is hilarious that I didn't pass it the last time I took it, I think. Cause clearly I can take colour photographs. I just have to, you know, do the assignments.

Which I'm really excited about, having assignments. In my dream land, I'll have enough student aid to cover all my photo shit (film, processing, paper, lights) and rent.. then I can do modeling jobs here and there for weekend trips to cover expenses to go off to other cities to work on my own projects.

It's all fabulously laid out, I just hope it works the way I want it to. Please please please! I want this so badly.

I want to do a project on documenting high school students. I like documenting people, in general. Like the picture above.

I'm Not Afraid

Dear Eminem,

I'm sorry I downloaded your album for free from a friend. I've wanted it and I wanted to buy it but I just can't afford it and I'm terribly obsessed with it, from what I've heard so far. I promise to be a good dedicated fan and know every goddamn word. "Not Afraid" is my new ultimate favorite song and speaks so straight to me that I cannot control but to blast the fuck out of it and fist pump and act like a lunatic. Thankyou.

Love,

Meagan

read the whole fucking thing even if you hate Eminem.

I'm not afraid to take a stand
Everybody come take my hand
We'll walk this road together, through the storm
Whatever weather, cold or warm
Just let you know that, you're not alone
Holla if you feel that you've been down the same road

Yeah, It's been a ride...
I guess I had to go to that place to get to this one
Now some of you might still be in that place
If you're trying to get out, just follow me
I'll get you there

You can try and read my lyrics off of this paper before I lay 'em
But you won't take this thing out these words before I say 'em
Cause ain't no way I'm let you stop me from causing mayhem
When I say 'em or do something I do it, I don't give a damn
What you think, I'm doing this for me, so fuck the world
Feed it beans, it's gassed up, if a thing's stopping me
I'mma be what I set out to be, without a doubt undoubtedly
And all those who look down on me I'm tearing down your balcony
No if ands or buts don't try to ask him why or how can he
From Infinite down to the last Relapse album he's still shit'n
Whether he's on salary, paid hourly
Until he bows out or he shit's his bowels out of him
Whichever comes first, for better or worse
He's married to the game, like a fuck you for christmas
His gift is a curse, forget the earth he's got the urge
To pull his dick from the dirt and fuck the universe

I'm not afraid to take a stand
Everybody come take my hand
We'll walk this road together, through the storm
Whatever weather, cold or warm
Just let you know that, you're not alone
Holla if you feel that you've been down the same road

Ok quit playin' with the scissors and shit, and cut the crap
I shouldn't have to rhyme these words in the rhythm for you to know it's a rap
You said you was king, you lied through your teeth
For that fuck your feelings, instead of getting crowned you're getting capped
And to the fans, I'll never let you down again, I'm back
I promise to never go back on that promise, in fact
Let's be honest, that last Relapse CD was "ehhhh"
Perhaps I ran them accents into the ground
Relax, I ain't going back to that now
All I'm tryna say is get back, click-clack BLAOW
Cause I ain't playin' around
There's a game called circle and I don't know how
I'm way too up to back down
But I think I'm still tryna figure this crap out
Thought I had it mapped out but I guess I didn't
This fucking black cloud still follow's me around
But it's time to exercise these demons
These motherfuckers are doing jumping jacks now!

I'm not afraid to take a stand
Everybody come take my hand
We'll walk this road together, through the storm
Whatever weather, cold or warm
Just let you know that, you're not alone
Holla if you feel that you've been down the same road

And I just can't keep living this way
So starting today, I'm breaking out of this cage
I'm standing up, Imma face my demons
I'm manning up, Imma hold my ground
I've had enough, now I'm so fed up
Time to put my life back together right now

It was my decision to get clean, I did it for me
Admittedly I probably did it subliminally for you
So I could come back a brand new me, you helped see me through
And don't even realise what you did, believe me you
I been through the ringer, but they can do little to the middle finger
I think I got a tear in my eye, I feel like the king of
My world, haters can make like bees with no stingers, and drop dead
No more beef flingers, no more drama from now on, I promise
To focus soley on handling my responsibility's as a father
So I solemnly swear to always treat this roof like my daughters and raise it
You couldn't lift a single shingle on it
Cause the way I feel, I'm strong enough to go to the club
Or the corner pub and lift the whole liquor counter up
Cause I'm raising the bar, I shoot for the moon
But I'm too busy gazing at stars, I feel amazing and

I'm not afraid to take a stand
Everybody come take my hand
We'll walk this road together, through the storm
Whatever weather, cold or warm
Just let you know that, you're not alone
Holla if you feel that you've been down the same road

Ceasing to Believe isn't Ceasing to Exist...

I'm watching children's movies and dreaming about love and magic as if they're real. I am split, as I suppose any balanced person should be, between the wonderment of hope and the bitterness of reality. There are no fairies, no santa, no magic wands and special genies. There is no prince Charming. All there is, is little me, waving my arms up from the sea of people doing the same thing, lost in the mass and trying to stick out... But there's something else I'm starting to learn.. that perhaps it's not about sticking out, but finding a place where I'm comfortable, and the attention will come to me in my content and pleasure of my own life, that I will glow. That same idea of when you stop looking, you will find love. I guess I've just never been able to not look. Impossible for me to not wonder if the new cute guy I'm talking to will love me and I him, secretly whispering my name with his last name to see how it sounds in my mouth, picturing our lives old, like all the other dreaming princesses in the world. But is it such a terrible thing to dream about? I don't think so, not at all. But it doesn't seem to be reasonable for me, it doesn't seem to be my path... and I often wonder if I've ever actually been in love. And I wonder about that mystery of a dilemma where a person can fall in love with someone who does not reciprocate. That is most confusing to me... how is it even possible? How could someone feel so strongly and the other not? Are we, as humans, so capable of deceiving ourselves? Are we that desperate to not be alone, to have someone always there, that we will lie until we think it's true?

I'm just a dreamer...

A dreamer who has been trying too hard.

Dreaming

Sleeping many nights in a row with little to nothing to drink causes the dreams to flood back full force... The semi-nightmares and latent dead wishes hanging on by threads come creeping back and manifest into intricate and colourful scenes, washing into eachother and I wake up crying...

Though as I pull myself along, I am proving to myself what it is I can be doing. So much more time is given up when I'm not drinking so much. Time for fun activities and forgetting the things I don't want to think about... Letting them sift their way through my thoughts and settle somewhere safe.

Time for hula hooping and rock climbing, drumming and dancing, smoking with friends, back yard fires and movie nights...

A lot of people tell me they are envious of my journey around the Country, and while often I would argue that it's a really rough way to live- that money is extremely unpredictable as are the people I work with- times like now, when I'm hanging out with great company around creative and judge-less people, is what makes it all worth the struggle.

Traveling Companion

assisted self portrait by Melody, in Florida circa 2007

I'm in Columbus and I have found myself with my very own room in a beautiful house with a photographer who is very nice and gives me my space, which I need desperately. The wind is wild outside, blowing the semi-sheer curtains behind a chair which sits in front of an old desk with key holes. I wish I had a girl to sit her there. I see her; she's in a white dress or night gown and she's stretched out, head back, legs relaxed and splayed how you do when no one's watching. Maybe this wooden bed frame could get in the way a bit...

But I don't have a girl with me. Just ghosts of images with no way to get it out. And no, I don't want to do self portraits. Besides, I don't have a tripod. None the less, it's not me sitting in the chair, it's someone else, and I- I am here, behind the camera.

If I did have a traveling companion... how difficult do you think it would be to continue to couch surf with two rather than one?

And why is it so hard to find a pretty girl who is willing to let me photograph her across the country so difficult? They all say they have jobs, school or rent to pay. So? So did I. They have no money. Well, neither do I.

But I will crawl if I have to. I will do whatever it takes to complete this trip.

on another note, I seriously need a light meter.

Fear

photo by Jaime Ibarra

I'm scared.

Inside, I feel my fingers wringing, twisting, grasping at each-other.

Constantly, I concentrate on my breath and push fears to the side.

However, currently -I feel the panic. The panic of failure, failure in everything.

My little evil demon, he's clinging to my ear, panting out doubt and ridicule in slick acid tones.

I've learned some sense of silence...

There was a time when I would say exactly what was on my mind, without much hesitation.

Now it sticks there, in the back of my throat, unable to move, and with a sigh, is filed away

There was one point, where I always had someone to tell everything.

No, it's not anywhere as easy. There is no one to tell, there are no words to justify me.

Silly me, what was I thinking?

This is a trial.

A trial of strength, determination, dreams, faith and love..

You have to love yourself.

But as my friends weed themselves out or plant themselves more solidly into my life, and I find new friends and reconnect with old ones, I feel this panic as I watch the uncertainty of their loyalty to me. My burning bridges and rash behavior weigh heavy on scales and why am I being judged? So I get in my car, and I drive away... and if you'd like to keep a small place in your heart for me to return to, I promise, I'm doing my very best.

[Sample Meagan] New comment on Cockpit.

"would you shut the fuck up already? you artsy fuckin' dweebs are annoying beyond belief. i tried to read one of your posts but really couldn't manage to make it through more than a couple paragraphs. then i checked the next entry and a few after that... same shit. gee, let's see how intriguing and intellectual i can possibly sound by using big words and finding alternate ways of saying things that could be said in about a quarter of the useless drivel that you spew all over this fucking page. you write like you're so divine and aware of yourself and life in general. you don't know shit. let that penetrate your skull and sink deep into your turtle brain. you're really not that cool, bud. you're a fucking child who's just as clueless as the next. i felt the need to rip you a few new assholes because i've seen many people like you, and you all think you're such individuals. well, you're not. you probably idolize people like marilyn monroe and kate moss even though one was a filthy, drug addicted slut who got fucked by half of hollywood, and the other a delusional cunt into blood play and self mutilation, also a drug abusing pig. you do things in an unconventional way because it's so much cooler to be "different". you love anything "retro". you smoke cigarettes because it's so damn fashionable looking, not because you're addicted. you take nude photos with your hair a wreck and render them black and white. you're attracted to guys with a long hair and a 5 o'clock shadow. you wanna blow johnny dep. i could go on and on. there's a million of you so called "individuals" out there. can't you just act fucking normal? FUCK. would it kill you to not try and be so different? true individuality comes from one living as their true self, not being abstract just for the sake of it. for you, achieving singularity is a goal, not a natural state of being, thus making you a phony, over analytical bitch. i'll say it again, you're NOT that fucking cool. get over yourself. keep your judgments to yourself. maybe one day when you're a little more self-aware, a little more conscious, you'll understand exactly what i'm saying. until then, keep taking artsy photos with half of your face in the picture. man, so cool. so original. fuck off. go join hollywood with the rest of the brainless cretins."

Cockpit

I'm in Atlanta and have been sleeping all day. Last night, I woke myself up coughing my head off and couldn't stop. I was so embarrassed to wake my host up that I initially declined the offer for cough-drops, taking a good size swig of nyquil and willing the coughing to stop. I could feel the sick-girl pathetics wanting to come out, the desire to be held and have my head stroked.. but alas, there are no lovers anywhere near and there wont be for god knows how long. Or mothers. Lovers or mothers. None the less, after holding back more coughs I decided those hall's drops sounded like a great idea, and fell asleep after just one. Thanks, J.

Right now, I'm just enjoying hiding out at someone's house and napping and being lazy. He gave me a key so I could come and go as I like, but I've just stayed right here on this couch, reading, writing and napping. And plotting my next moves. Unfortunately, I don't have many shoots here in Atlanta, but at the same time, I don't really mind. I don't mind not shooting massively, just as long as I have enough to keep me going. I've been meeting great people and getting into some sort of rhythm. Making friends and I believe the second loop around will be better than the first. Maybe that's the point of this trip- just finding myself and doing what I need to do to settle into my own skin. Which is working out fabulously, by the way.

I find it interesting, how the rumors fly about. About me, about other people. But I don't blame anyone, and think us girls, we should stick together. I don't hate anyone, I actually adore most everyone I know and know of and have a lot of love, I swear. I hate when bitches hate eachother, and I've always been of the mind set to be friends with everyone. Maybe because I wasn't treated very well through school.

It's interesting how we all want to go back and say this and that about our upbringing. I moved around a lot, and have never lived in one spot longer than five years, and average out on three or four years. I've moved, God, half a dozen times in the last two years, maybe more. Every time with the intention of downsizing to prepare myself for what I'm doing right now. I love it. That I'm actually doing it. And my life is so much better. So far. Knock on wood.

The above photo is taken from the airplane flying from Raleigh to Orlando. I love flying. My grandfather has a small Cessna from the 70's and I've been flying since I was two, and never get sick of looking out the window. The clouds are beautiful, the world is beautiful, and I think you really see it when you're up in the air. I get all excited, but this time I have no one to share it with.

I miss my sister. She's in Hong Kong now, so I can't call her anymore, and it's killing me already.

Upon boarding the plane (I've only flown commercially VERY few times, like twice.) I asked this girl if I could sit next to her, next to the window, and she smiled and said yes. She was pretty and reminded me somewhat of Rachael but sure as shit, she wasn't anything like Rachael, she was a fucking cunt. I didn't realize until I saw she had an iphone and I asked her if she had a charger, she said yes and I was like "Oh! Can I borrow it!?" and looked around quick for outlets, and saw there were none, "oh, no outlets."

Her mother curls her lip at me, "There are not outlets on planes," and they both look at me like I just puked on her daughters wedding dress.

"Oh. Well. There are on trains.." and later I felt like rambling off to the mouth, and wish I had, saying, well on Grandpa's plane there were cigarette lighters and if a small plane like that could have four of those, don't you think a huge boeing 787 has fuckin outlets somewhere on it?!? Maybe it was excessive for me to think it probable, but give it time, I bet there will be.

I spent the rest of the ride looking out the window and dreaming about what I will do with my life and what this stupid brat wont be doing, which is having my fun life. Her mother talks to her about a boy she met who has a girlfriend and they're sitting there chatting like they're friends and I end up feeling bad for both of them and their small brains.

Anyway, I'm rambling because I got my feeling hurt.

My point is, is that I'm the girl gawking out the window of airplanes. I also feel pretty cool that I sorta know what goes into landing a plane, and kick myself everytime I don't do things like ask to take a picture of the pilot in the cockpit.

cockpit. hah.

Meet Rachael

"okay so long storyshort." I can almost hear Rachael's tone of voice, perhaps a hairflip and definately bumming a cigarette from me if we were actually hanging out, she continues her story over IM, "the man of my dreams whom i met once in my life and is a luetenitnt in afgan just imed me and said goodmorning. ahhhhh"

haha, her new lovestory.

This is the start of a whole new thread to add to our ridiculous list of things to talk about, which we're really good at doing. You know, talking. We just sit and tell eachother everything, let loose, rant, ramble, rave. It's like having another sister, straight up, and I love it. There is no judgment, just pure sharing and venting.

I dont' know about you, but when I have a great friendship with someone (or lovers) I like to think of the very moment I met them, and every moment after that. I am, after all, a visual hoarder and obsessor.

Listen, this bitch is NOT someone I'd normally be friends with. She does her hair every day and takes two hours to get ready for school. She has a big ass and wears tight jeans with heals. You know, pink and

sparkles and shit. You know? Uggs, man. Uggs.

So.

I'm living in Utica, in this apartment that I really love. Green walls in the small living room, white in a small bedroom, red in a small kitchen, and a big beautiful white bathroom with a clawfoot tub. A big step u

p from my shit hole that I had before. This place had doors and a working shower and new appliances. It had a real lock on the door and real, nice working leak-free windows.

And my lease was up.

The apartment next door was free, but I didn't want to move, and it would be temporary, which was okay cause I wanted to leave anyway but I didn't want to give up my fucking clawfoot tub, dammit. So I just avoided my really awesome landlord and eventually it came that he had to move me next door and move the girl he promised could have mine in. Fuck. He brings her over and we sorta stressfully look at eachother and smile nice and I"m like god, this bitch is taking my home and I'm so not happy. Fuckin ugg wearing bitch. Look at her perfect hair. huff. But she was nice to me, and she just wanted her place and I didn't hate her I was just stressed.

But seriously, the apartment next door: WAY BETTER.

Three big rooms, one after another- railroad style. A partially wrap-around porch (second story!), bay windows in the front that got amazing light in the afternoon, hardwood floors, windows windows windows everywhere! Stainglass on the tops of the third room, in the back, where I put my bed on the floor and hung my canopy and the sun in the morning woke me up all warm and glowing through the colours of the floral glass. Small kitchen and bathroom and no tub but who cares! I traded a beautiful bathroom for a BRIGHT apartment, and I needed that desperately. I'm so sensitive to sun, you know? It makes me so much happier to be in the sunshine, let alone this beautiful apartment all to myself.

So shortly after she moves in, she invites me to smoke a blunt and we're like, BFF from then on. It was slow going at first but steady. We are terribly different, like could not be more different, but we're both open to being friends and we like eachother and we like talking and hanging out and that's what we do. We had cleaning days where we had "pow wow's" which consisted of sitting on the floor in my livingroom and chain smoking two or three cigarettes and unwinding before going back to cleaning. I think we pow-wow more than we clean.

We would do super girly things like curl eachother's hair different ways to see which looked best, I would braid her hair while watching a movie because she liked how it felt.. we'd paint our nails and talk about boys. It cannot get girlier hanging out with her.

But bitch'll fuck a bitch up, I swear. She ain't no siss, that's for sure.

It's nice to know that in all actuality, to connect and have a great relationship with someone, all it really takes is the willingness to make it work and the respect to communicate effectively.

And I wore her uggs constantly. They're super warm and comfortable. But shhh, don't tell anyone...

Meet AJ

Oh Mr. Blog.

You are my vanity.

My self-serving epicenter.

My therapist. My confidant.

I love when people read my e-journal. It's a diary that's meant to be read, and I love the whole concept. I've had a blog since I was 16, a paper journal since I could write. And all this is a way for me to feel bigger than I am or smaller than I am, to cast my web and keep you interested. I find people to be fascinating.

Anyway, lastnight I went out with this chick AJ and her boyfriend. And we looked smashing, let me tell you what. First, we're all very tall. Flat footed I'm 5'10'' and she's fuckin 6'3 whaaaat!! So I wear heals and she doesn't and now we're all about the same hight. Next, add tiny black dresses, cameras and cool places to go and you've got yourself one of my favorite things to do ever. Hello, impromptu photoshoot. Party pictures are my favorite, and now I have a panoramic olympus that allows me to crop the top and bottom and get this really great sort of picture. I found it for 2 bucks at the SPCA thriftstore in Charlottesville, VA. This shit is gold to me, though I don't get to use it like this very often. Must rapidly make more model friends. Oh, what a shame.

So, we were standing in line at Czar's in ybor City when I snap it open and start off. I feel uncomfortable without it, my little olympus. Bitches behind us talking shit without really talking shit and I just stay all happy in my bubble with AJ and Bryan, though definately took a moment to turn around and at least see what she was wearing, I made eye contact and smiled sweetly and she was wearing green marti gras beads, let alone half my hight. Nuf said.

Have you seen my ID picture? It's great.

We get inside and the music's going and I'm blazin ready to get my dance on but there's no one there! So I dance my heart out for a while next to the bar while we all take shots and beers like it's our birthday and AJ and I take more pictures of eachother.

I just want to be in love with life and I feel the sparkle. I'm ready to get out of Florida and my time is picking up nicely. I'm excited for my shoots coming up and meeting new people. I'm so going to go on some ghost story trail thing in New Orleans. All I think about of New Orleans is vampires in the French Quarter. My brain doesn't process much else other than Hurricane Katrina. So these two things means New Orleans has some shit to show my camera and I'm excited about that as well.

srsly how cool is that camera?!

'Ex Lover's 'Ex Lovers

Alright. So.

I have an announcement to make.

Attention, attention!

Read this blog

I stalk ex lover's ex lovers like it's my job.

She's one of em.

And I like her blog.

But hey, I like my ex's.

And their ex's.

For the most part.

ps- stop fucking deleting your posts, bitch.

Get Excited

Sometimes I look at my work or myself and I'm really terrified.

I look at my pictures and I say, "okay, okay, not bad... but a long way to go, Meagan".

And I sigh and I remind myself that- you have a huge jar half-full of undeveloped rolls of film.

Meagan, you have rolls and rolls unscanned.

You have rolls and rolls of colour to bring to CVS.

You have rolls and rolls to shoot, yet.

You will not die tomorrow.

You have plenty of time.

You see, I noticed the other day that a lot of people have to be reminded to "live life like you'll die tomorrow" more often and to let loose. Me? I'm the opposite, I need to be reminded that there's a good chance I WONT die tomorrow, and that the people I love and who love me, they'll be around. Hopefully. And even if they're not, there are more people to befriend, and life keeps moving, and everything just keeps going, so you go along, too, and stop worrying that your chance might be up because, dammit, you need to slow down and smell the fuckin flowers. Not that I don't, cause I smell flowers all the time. Though I don't like getting store-bought flowers. Damn, you know, I would rather get a couple rolls of 1600 neopan rather than flowers. I'd rather get photo shit always over everything, though particularly my family doesn't know this. How do they miss out on that so well?

Anyway, I am wandering from the point, though I don't think there is much of a point.

Sometimes, I admit, I look at my photos or I look in the mirror and I say "Damn girl, you fucking got it goin on, you are cool as shit, lookit you go, bitch!" and I'm excited. But that usually is somehow correlated with, I don't know, sunshine or chocolate or sex. You know, that whole unbalanced balance thing. Ahh, that's not true, shooting makes me excited, too. Cameras and guns. Oh! And motorcycles. And shopping. and and and...

(I waaaannnt.....)

aright aright, cvs time.

Unable

she lightly picked her way across the river bed,

as if she'd known these woods her whole life.

And even though that wasn't so,

there seemed no bed she wouldn't safely navigate.

So with my fingers clutching my n-eighty,

a shutter to satisfy my bewildering memory.

For though I used to be justly capable,

suddenly was found awe-struck and unable.

I need Therapy

It's eleven am and warmer outside than inside. It's March and I'm fantasizing about snow up in New York- last night, I actually had some waking dream that I was looking out my window at the snow slowly falling. But it is, indeed, March, and most likely it's not that cold out and there's just dirty melting snow and slush and wetness.

A year ago I was slicing open my heart with a box cutter and still, I'm not doing too much better. Falling in love with the wrong people at the wrong time, skirting by with barely my insanity in tact and I'm wondering what I'll do with my life, still.

Now that I'm "on the road" all I want to be doing is finding a new home, getting three lame ass minimum wage jobs and living alone with my cats who aren't my cats anymore. Now everything is more unsure, but I suppose that's the beauty of it, the unsurity is at least reliable. One day I'll be happily driving away from or to something with cash in my pocket and chin held high, the next broke with a busted car and an even more busted heart, burying my head in the sand and hoping it'll all go away.

Really, all I want is companionship and over and over I don't find it, though I'm teased for a couple days or a couple weeks, if I'm lucky. I'm forced to realize that I'm still a mess and I've still got a long way to go... Am I as ugly as I see myself? I fear I am.

The above photo is from my last Home, though it was barely that, at least I had my room all set up with my pictures all over the walls, my canopy above my shitty futon mattress on the floor. Cat hair everywhere but they loved me and I them ("and they loooved me lovin them.. and that's showbiz"). I would lay in bed hungover and sad and missing someone and curl up with my babies and curled around my body pillow in the silence and watch the trees outside my window, pissing away sunny afternoons like a lazy cat forbidden to be free.

I stopped reading. Perhaps I've just been too depressed to read, lost in my own thoughts and they never come out right on paper or keyboard, they just stick up in my head, rattling around driving me crazy (crazy? I was once crazy.. they locked me in a rubber room...).

I need therapy.

Tryin to get back into the blogging groove. Makes me feel someone is listening.

Florida...

photo by Josh Marks

I don't find Florida to be very interesting, though I just arrived a couple days ago. The best part is, of course, the sunshine and warm weather, though it's getting close to the rainy season here which I'd prefer to skip out of. I'm obsessed with the huge Oak trees with Spanish moss, esspecially at sunset and hope to get my grandmother to drive me around one sunny late afternoon so I can take pictures of these beautiful trees.

I still feel unsettled, though. Even though I'm fairly always on the move, I don't feel like I'm actually "on my trip". I've been here before, I've been up and down the east coast many times, if I was only a child most of those times, I've still done it. I feel like the real adventure might be when I reach New Orleans, or especially when I'm past Texas, as Texas is the furthest west I've ever been. Even then, I don't think I'll be satisfied, as I don't think new sights are exactly what my heart is screaming for, though certainly it's part of it. I'm already tiring of being alone, and look forward to meeting up with some friends in a couple weeks.

Right now I'm staying with my grandmother, and while I love her to pieces, my life has gotten too complicated and abnormal to be able to share properly with my 70-something year old grandmother. I find my head full of thoughts and conflicting emotions and I snap at stupid things because I'm just so... unsettled. Unsettled in myself and what I'm doing, where I am, both physically and mentally. Sifting through my head for some sort of balance.

January is Over

photo by George Bogatko

2,000 miles. 8 states.
Too many friends to count.
I'm terribly stressed about money but I'm happy, otherwise.
I hold my breath and use my credit card and pray that it'll all work out in the end.
After all, I could die tomorrow and then none of it would matter anyway.
I've paused in Virginia with my friend, Shakti, who is super
and houses me happily and it's comfortable and safe and easy and I like all those things.

Soon enough I'll continue on to Florida, but for now I'll enjoy the snow as it comes and goes- oh how I love how it snows one day and the next it's 50 degrees.

I've been introduced to latex clothing and corsets and I love both. I'm reading Venus in Furs and have a pile of other books still to read.

and that's about it. I'm content.

NYC has sucked me in

In the first week of my adventures I drove 1000 miles.

Also, car troubles. A leek in the transmission fluid. Fixed.

Spending money like I have it.

New friends, old friends ex-ed,

Photography photography photography

Sweet voices and honking and lights

People

cameras.

It's not so bad out, here.

Though some think it's cold, I know what cold is.

Still, fur lined coat helps with warm and battling fashion.

Still, I'd rather be in warm weather.

Miami, here I come.

Austin, here I come.

Los Angeles, here I come!

I want to be in love.

Sorry this update sucks.