Sample Meagan

Dear Douchebag Who Stole My Hasselblad

2011-12-29T21:37:00.000-08:00

Seriously you can go fuck yourself, I hope you live a long terrible life and I hope you believe in hell and I hope you get to go there and face all the fucked up demons you've created with your dishonesty and generally shitty life.

More than anything, I just wish I could get my Dad's dog tag that was being kept safe at the bottom of the bag.

In retrospect I always seem to have premonitions about bad things- I looked at his tag over and over wondering if I should put it somewhere safer, but I liked it there with my camera, and I always had my camera bag with me, I'd cling to it while traveling, terrified of losing it and now it's gone- of my own stupidity for not only leaving it in my mom's car, but for leaving the car door locked (though I would never do that on purpose). I keep wondering that if I had actually tried to find it if I would have found it, but I let it go, feeling too defeated by it being gone to even hold the hope of finding it again. I also wonder if I should have stayed on top of the investigator who was in charge of my case, but I also think he doesn't give a damn.

What sparked this is going through my film and realizing how much more medium format film I have over 35 and how much I prefer my square shots to my small format. I miss my Rollieflex more, that camera was magical and was given to me by a very generous photographer who believed in me.

I feel so frustrated, having had some lowlife take my main camera from me, taking my favorite tool, denying my voice and vision it's proper medium.

Sure sure, it's not the camera it's the person behind it. But we all have our favorite pens, brushes, guitar, whatever. I keep telling myself that I wont put energy into continuing to mourn the loss of my camera, but to look forward into the future. I have my Olympus OM-4 and a shitty digital I hate and never use. I keep thinking to leave the Nikon D70s behind somewhere, just ditch it, since I hate it so much. But truth is, it's a fine medium, even if it's terribly out of date. Make due with what you have Meagan, beggars can't be choosers.

But all I want to do is skip some steps and start making a little more money, sell some prints, something! All my best stuff is on my squares, though, and I look at the other work as un-uniform. Perhaps all of it is, and the coming months spent in the warm and new territories of New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada and (especially) California will bring me to what I'm looking for.

My last shoot of 2011 will be of my sister Melody, tomorrow. I hope to be able to drag her out of bed around sunrise and catch the dawn, then chase down the perfect light and location around the waters and old Underworld of Chicago...

On another note, I took my first pole dancing class yesterday and got my snatch waxed for the first time this morning. Shit hurt of course and I'm painfully aware of the lack of bush going on downstairs and I'm pretty sure I'm not very comfortable about the whole thing. I believe full nudes will be put on the backburner for a while until I am.

It sucks, lately I feel incredibly not pretty. I look at pictures of myself and I'm disgusted.

A few thoughts on Christmas and New Years

2011-12-16T18:23:00.000-08:00

So... So.

Christmas is coming and I'm trying to make the best out of it. I again have little money to be doing all the things for all the people I wish I could, but I suppose that comes with the territory of vagabond. I'll be spending a few days before Christmas traveling around to various cities so that I can see my immediate family, that happens to be quite spread out. Christmas eve I'll be spending on a 13hr train to Chicago, which I have mixed feelings about, naturally. I arrive Christmas morning to be with my twin sister for the day, who has to work in the afternoon, most likely all night. I'm happy to be spending it with her, as we haven't spent a Christmas together in some years now, and I always miss her so much... Family gatherings feel really strange to me without her- I consider her an anchor, particularly with family, like half of me is missing. Probably because half of me is missing and they're used to us together.

And then there's New Years, which I have the thought to fly to LA New Years Eve because it'll be the cheapest and I don't much feel like entering into 2012 in a drunk haze feeling sorry that I don't have a lover to kiss me and be romantic.

As I consider these things, of traveling and being alone during these two big holidays, I'm mixed with feeling sorry for myself and being excited that I'm putting my career ahead of some expectation of some great to-do dedicated to being amazing for these dates. I like that I keep getting rid of things. I like that I traveled down to DC with barely any clothes and a bunch of photo shit. I like that I've set a goal to get that photo backpack as the next step in taking myself more seriously as a photographer and artist. It seems every time I take one of these steps into professionalism, the universe responds with many times the positive feedback on my work and other people recognizing that it's not just a hobby, it's not passing, it's not going anywhere and that I really love my work. It feels good to have people see my passion, and appreciate my vision.

Thoughts on Cruelty

2011-11-25T15:43:00.001-08:00

Two things to start off with:

A) My Hasselblad got stolen from my mother's car

B) I keep getting anon hate on my Tumblr, and I assume it's by the same person

While one is the act of hate by a random person, the second is an act of hate by someone who has singled me out to harass me personally.

Both hurt. I don't know who the harasser is or who stole my camera, but they are both people who have lost a sense of right and wrong, who are desperate in one way or another. I have a hard time wrapping my head around it, because I live my life as good and honest as I can. I don't spend time talking shit about people, or hating people I don't know, I don't steal or cheat or lie. I'm not going to say that I never slip up, but I hold my life as something that I want to look back on and recognize my hard work and feel like I've earned everything I've worked for- honestly.

That being said, every obstacle that comes my way will be overcome. My best camera stolen by a crackhead? My car impounded? Cruel anonymous words? Whatever it is, nothing will stop me. Nothing will break my spirit.

Keep it comin. With every fight I get stronger.

And as a friend of mine has told me many times, it's not the camera, it's the person holding it.

Moose and being Upstate

2011-11-15T08:55:00.001-08:00

I feel so stuck and tortured up here in upstate NY!

Though not completely.

I've been taking care of the family dog Moose while my mother's in Florida through til Thanksgiving with my Grandmother, who moves there for the winter. Snow bird and all that. So I agreed to watch the house, take care of the dogs, etc, while she's gone. Sounds like it wouldn't be that bad, you know, having the house to myself and all that... but there is just NOTHING to do in Watertown.

I guess I should try harder. Shoot something or something.

Not having wifi also drives me bat shit. Not that the internet is that interesting anymore, but at least it's something.

anyway, here is a link to my Etsy store

It's only got a few prints up on it right now, but I'm really trying to push selling a few of these. I'd like to get super 8 film, more paper to print on, and a nice light meter. Among other things but at the moment that's what I really want :)

At least sitting around with nothing to do encourages me to write and read more.

Ignore my Sniveling

2011-10-11T19:48:00.000-07:00

It's almost eleven and I don't know what I've done since dinner. Laid down for a bit, but other than that, suddenly I find the hours ticking by and nothing's getting done, nothing's happening. It's like I'm frozen, waiting for what to do to come to me. I have a couple options but nothing seems quite right, and here I am staring at photographs of my life and nicknacks from childhood. There are things to do, there are things I must do, but I can't seem to do them. I feel like sleeping would be better, I feel like junk food would be good, too, but that requires getting up and going across the street, that requires spending money I don't have to spend. God, money, what a pain in my ass. If I had money, oh the things I would do. But I guess that's what separates people. Have the will to make what you want happen. I feel I'm in a rut, a bad bad rut I can't pull out of. The Nothing is getting to me, swallowing me whole and mostly I don't even care. I don't really talk to anyone anymore, I'm bored with the internet- yet at the same time, I still don't read, I guess I've been writing a bit more, taking some pretty pictures but my depths are not being reached. Everything's skimming the surface and I'm just laying here, watching time pass, breathing through my sufferings. I want to talk but I don't know the words, I don't have the right ears, nothing comes out most of the time. Fragments, then, when they do. Fragments of stories, fragments of feelings, fragments of my life and I'm wondering if I've totally cracked this time... I wish I knew the answers, I wish I knew what to do for once.

Detaching

2011-10-07T18:34:00.000-07:00

Self Portrait printed in the darkroom... buy one at my etsy store

It's nine thirty at night and I'm considering going to bed, that's how bored I am. That, and I'm anxious, I'm not sure if it's out of lack of people to talk to, things to do, not smoking cigarettes, not drinking... Probably everything. The internet seems incredibly boring but it could be that I'm just boring. Someone pointed that out to me the other day, that I am indeed boring. Thus, I am bored. In my desire to step things down a big notch and gather my whits, I've actually become boring. Excuse me, I think I'm insulted by myself.

Wow, I just realized that I am absolutely surrounded by all the things I miss when I'm not here. So many books it's unreal, unreasonable amounts of writing mediums- three typewriters, multi coloured and designed paper and envelopes, every color pen and pencils, crayons, shit loads of pictures, scrap books, construction paper... All these things to do and I'm bored?

I'm becoming obsessed with the idea of ditching my iphone and getting some piece of shit thing. I keep thinking about leaving with the least amount of stuff possible. Wondering what I can sell to make a little money but not finding the drive to actually photograph it, and thinking- fuck it all, fuck it all I just gotta get the hell out of here, let go of all my attachment to everything. Just pack up my photo shit, minimal clothes and get goin to NYC...

bored, bored, bored

2011-10-01T10:18:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I just want to scream, I want someone to really hear me and it seems no matter what I do, every work that comes out of my mouth or fingers falls on deaf ears- am I not saying the right thing? Are my words falling together incoherent and desperate? Why is it so hard to find someone to hear me? God, I know it's not just that- I want someone who I want to listen to just as much, I want someone who holds my attention. I could scream at people I care about to listen because I feel like they are lacking, my phone lies unused day after day, facebook is dead, email is dead, everything is fucking dead and I went from 100 to zero and I'm left trying to concentrate on my limbo, of my putting shit together one day at a time, and it's hard- I work better in a wreck, a chaos and I'm stranded among my own thoughts and few possessions, memories haunting and emotions licking like fire across my chest where it feels so heavy with addiction and not of cigarettes and booze like I'd think, but of inspiration and love and passion and stimulation. I am bored, I am so bored and mostly I sit here in my room thinking about all the things I have to do to become unbored, to move forward, yet I let my heartbreak lead my days into nights, wasting away with dream tortured sleep and the never ending flow of unanswered questions- questions upon myself and everything and everyone I know. Why is life so difficult? that is what I've found to be true above all else, it is difficult. And am I as self centered and terrible as some people think I am? Christ, I hope not, but if I am I suppose it's time to consider that an option and adjust accordingly.... Ever fixing myself. Ever bettering myself. I am confused, constantly.

Shit, I think I just need therapy.

Jane Eyre

2011-09-18T23:05:00.000-07:00

I've just watched the movie... and it's made me cry just as the book did, when I read it a few years ago. It's so romantic, and heartbreaking. Her patient and diligent love, her humble and quiet demeanor.

I feel like I'm constantly searching out this love to have, to put my heart into. Sometimes I think my cigarette addiction is nagging at my heart, and so I would smoke, and it doesn't fix it- I become restless and tearful and wonder why- and it's the same as it's always been: Heartache. Heartache not for the love lost, but for the love never had. So badly do I want to have it, only to be ever denied. Once and a while I think I've found it, so I chase and I chase after it, only to have the person of my affections turn from me, and maybe that's my great dilemma, falling in love with those who will not have me. A fear one way or another to demolish any hope of happiness- fear of losing that person, fear of not being good enough, smart enough, pretty enough. Fear of letting them down, so why not destroy it before it gets there, anyway. Maybe one day I'll find someone who will make me calm, someone who will stand through the firestorm that is my defense- it's not fair, it's not something anyone should put up with or endure. Perhaps, even, I will find this calm in myself, God, wouldn't that be nice... Why must I have it in my head to find someone to complete me? Where have I gotten that silly idea stuck in my head. Just as some would like to tame me, there is a part of me that wishes to be tamed but none who I see fit to do so. Lately I think it comes down to me taming myself, and which I've started to do. I can't decide whether it is sad or relieving. A part of me thinks I am giving up on this love, another thinks I am preserving some semblance of that innocent girl who believes so much in that romance. I don't wish to be jaded and broken, but no matter how hard I've tried, I think it's happened...

Small Town Reflections

2011-09-09T19:01:00.000-07:00

So I've been in Gouverneur for five days now, and until today I haven't exactly left the house, except to the gas station across the streets for snacks. Not for any other reason except for the fact that I've been totally and completely engrossed in scanning and editing pictures. I have a lot more to go, but I'm getting antsy, so today I went for a run, down to my old Elementary school (I was only there one year, but it was still nostalgic.. and small) and through the path in the woods they have there. It was great, I really enjoyed myself, and I've enjoyed being alone and quiet. Of course, I've been keeping my brain distracted with Buffy while scanning, but I'm in the last season, so by sometime tomorrow I'll have no more Buffy, which is good. Then it's on to exploring more of the town. It'd be nice if I could maybe put some of my work up in the cafe here, find a way to make some money to get business cards and my website up and running. Etc. It's all a bit rough but between selling most of my clothes and some of my other things, it should be a good start. I have a lot of prints, and I hope that I find people who want to buy a few of them, unfortunately there's a lot of portraits, and too personal.

I do wonder, what will happen when I try to tap into this little town. There's gotta be families wanting family portraits, highschool girls with dreams of modeling, and couples wanting romantic or saucy pictures... But it's interesting, because it wont take very long for me to infiltrate, it's one of those towns where everyone knows everyone. All I have to do is sit at the pizzaria or cafe for the next week. Shouldn't be too hard. It starts tomorrow, cause I gotta make money soon so I can get the rest of my film developed. Hm, plans plans...

blah blah blah

2011-09-08T20:09:00.000-07:00

I've been back at my grandmother's in wayyy upstate NY for three days now... in that time all I've done is sit in my room, watch Buffy, scan and scan negatives, edit a few, start to organize my room... and do my makeup about a dozen different ways. The combination of being in my 10-14year old room, having all my clothes in one place (and makeup), doing a self portrait project and needing to make money... leads me to want to do just play dressup with myself in order to sell some of these clothes. I mean, there's definitely worse ways to spend my time. I really could use a tripod, though, I had one at some point but I'm pretty sure I left it in my old apartment. One of them, at least. But whatever, I'll make due with what I have. I've decided that while I'm a clothing hoarder, I may as well make some money off of it, seeing as I can't be a vagabond with all this baggage, besides, I've lost almost everything as it is. I'm really getting good at not having attachments to... well, anything... Or (sadly) anyone. I've definitely developed a good sense of loner. Now if only I could make myself go running. I fucking hate running.

Go home, Meagan

2011-08-13T17:03:00.000-07:00

Wow. The last few weeks have been pretty crazy. I think I've drank every day, and I don't feel bad about it, for the most part. I've had a lot of fun, with a lot of different people... But I've also lost my car, my 35mm camera and I'm more broke than I have ever been. I'm barely going to make it home with what I have, and people keep asking for trade shoots, instead of wanting to pay me, which really bums me out. I love working with people I want to work with, I love modeling, I love photography and being a part of it from both ends of the camera... but I need to make money, and it doesn't seem to be happening. I'm sick of searching people out, of playing the money game... So the only option left to do is break down, go home to my grandmother's and get a couple shitty jobs and work that way. The right way, I guess. I suppose it was too much to think that this could be somewhat easy, and a hell of a lot more fun. But I've had my fun, and it's time to go home.

I've been crying a lot today, for many different reasons. I have a lot to say, but my platform seems lost to me, at the moment. I have a typewriter finally, but not I don't have the money to develop my film when I get home. I wish I had my car still, I feel really lost without it.

Why does misery bring so much inspiration? I'd rather be happy and inspired, but I don't know if I've ever been happy. I feel truly insatiable.

8 o'clock in Charlottesville

2011-08-02T04:52:00.000-07:00

It's eight AM in Charlottesville, and here I sit at a little coffee shop where my friend works, both waiting for the time when I have to leave, my bags draped around me like the weird hobo that I am to walk to the train station and head back North. I have just enough money to get me back to NYC and not much else, and while I do worry about that, I can't seem to care much at the moment. There's no point really.

I'm sad I wont be going back to school this semester. As the dates dwindle down summer and closer to the beginning of the school year, I feel the pull to be going back. I miss the darkroom a lot, though I am disappointed in my work for the summer. I'm confused about what to do with my time, energy, money, etc. Sortof sitting in the eye of a storm and instead of preparing or ripping into it myself, drawing on it's energy, I stay there, looking up and wondering who I am and what I'm doing here.

I guess not much has changed. I try not to be down, to instead just be steady in my own somber attitude. "Serious" as my friend would say, "I'm a serious person". And I believe myself to be a serious person, too, serious thinking most of the time, at least. I think in prose and poetry and love, albeit chaotic and confusing... Sometimes angry.

Life is so full of options, you know? At any point on any day, I have so many choices to make, that I could make... some of which would change my life completely. It seems that NYC wants me though, or my heart wants NYC... Even if I long to return to the safety of my school and my hated Utica. There is comfort and normalcy in it that I love and despise there...

So much of me is a rebellious heart and soul, and until somewhere around 7th grade, I thought everyone was that way. I remember sitting in social studies and having our teacher give us this kind of sociology quiz about human behavior and such, asking what we thought was true or not. The only question I remember asked about whether most people prefered structured routine over a more spontanious life and I was so sure in the latter, and shocked to find that false.

Sometimes I think about that and I still don't know what to think of it.

Smiles

2011-07-27T05:08:00.000-07:00

photo by David Wittig

This photo was taken in Chicago on the beach about a month ago. David and I have a great chemistry and I love the photos we've gotten.

people sure seem to love it when I smile.

Which is nice, because I want to be happy. But sometimes they are lies. I struggle with that whole "fake it til you feel it" thing. I want to be honest with myself and everyone around me, but I also know that the happier you are, the better things go for you. So maybe if I keep smiling, good things will happen?

Honestly, I feel strangely happy, though (considering). New York City does that to me.

rambling ranting ignore this entry

2011-07-27T04:32:00.001-07:00

NOOOOO

I knew there was something else in my car that I didn't want to be losing... my super awesome biker boots. Ugh, they were one of the most expensive things I owned and I wore them every day- How it's taken me a week to realize that I didn't have them is beyond me- I guess maybe cause it's so hot out? All of my jewelry was in there, too. ALL OF IT. I loved my collection... Oh and all my clothes... I mean sure sure, I have some more at home, but some of my favorite things were lost, and I am left here in Brooklyn with no fuckin clothes. I literally have a pair of shorts, a couple shirts and two dresses. But I'm used to having a shit load of clothes to choose from! Meh. I guess it wouldn't be so bad if I had money to buy some new things, but I don't. Yet.

I'm looking at all of this as a new start, cause what else is it? I literally have next to nothing and I am just so so so grateful to the powers that be that I have my main cameras, my laptop, portfolio and wallet. It sucks I lost my car and everything else in it, there was so much in there that I really loved, but the cameras mean more, and the portfolios of images I've spent hours to print...

And I'm really going to miss my school and everything but the prospect of moving down here to Brooklyn is really amazing. I've just got to take care of some things and make money and pay my retardedly high phone bill somehow and find an apartment and and and... it's all very very overwellming but I don't care, I want it, I want NYC... Everything I want is here, everything. Most of my friends are here, money is here, photography is here, it's all here and I love NY so much it hurts...

I was talking to this painter, Dave, the other night, and I was going on and on about all of these things, telling him about how since I can remember I've dreamed of traveling and growing up specificly of NYC. Living in the same state as such an intense city, so close yet so far away... Anyone with talent and ambition moves to the city! It's obvious. And so I chose not to do it, for one reason or excuse or another, even though I've been dreaming of it for most of my life. Dave says, "people all over the world dream of moving to NYC. There is nothing like it."

When I think of these things, when I think of the mathmatical equation to lead up to me living my own life in NYC I just get so excited....

A hard route I always seem to take - but living off of dreams and love of life is the sort of freedom most people never taste.

RIP Car...

2011-07-21T07:36:00.000-07:00

So... My car was stolen.

For those of you who know me, you know that my car is one of my favorite possesions, right up there with my camera and computer. Often it comes in first place, seeing as it can take me away- a constant real escape at my fingertips. A thought is all it takes, and I'm out the door and in my car driving down the road with the wind whiping my hair because I have no AC and I don't mind. Radio crap or driving in silence because my tape deck is broken. The dash alight with warnings, check engine and barely able to pass inspection last year but the little garage in upstate NY that I've gone to forever and so has my grandmother, they said they could pass it again this year and the sticker was there, marked July, and it's almost the end of July....

Fuck.

Honestly having it stolen isn't a bad end to the car, but I wasn't done with it yet. We were suposed to drive to California together, me and that car. We were supposed to let her die on the road, where she belongs, not melted for metal scraps and torn apart and sold and destroyed alive. There was life in her! Given, not that much, and she was kinda dangerous to drive anymore... but she was mine.

Have I meantioned I've had that car since I was 16??

It's strange, because while I am very upset about it and terribly stressed over what I'm going to do, I also feel oddly quiet about it. Perhaps "sobered" by it. Or even liberated.

It's that last kick to the ribs when you're down and beaten and suddenly you say, no no Fuck You and you realize you got a lot of fight left in you, come up swinging like a person possessed and scrapping for life, the fury really tapped into and unleashed.

Except I'm not mad. I just sorta feel like I'm watching myself, with a nod, yes- shitty things happen. Yes, you feel like extra shitty things happen to you. No, there still is no option of surrender.

If anything, this just adds to the fire.

Dear Mister,

2011-07-18T16:00:00.000-07:00

You know... I look at your website and the pictures you have posted of me and I find myself crying, bursting into tears at the person you see me as, of who you portray me as, a person I hate and I hate you for not seeing more than that of me, of not seeing me as any sort of pretty or good person, slandering me next to pretty pictures of my sister, torturing me with regret for ever trusting you and letting you take my picture and pretend to be my friend, forgiving you over and over and putting my faith in you. I really hate you for it, I hope you know... and you're so fucked up, you'll probably read this and be happy to know you continue to cause me distraught anxious frustrating tears of regret. You are the worst thing that happened to my modeling, and I'm sure you're not done fucking me over. I am not the person you portray me as, the person you so desperately want to see me as. You are a fucked up old man and I don't know why you chose me to be at the receiving end of your nasty attacks.

and I have you blocked in my email and I think, I wonder if he's emailed me and low and behold there is more hate mail from you. I shouldn't be writing this for you to find, I shouldn't be letting you know how much you hurt me, but you do, you hurt me a lot, and I really don't deserve the hate you give me, I really don't. You talk about how much you hate me and what a terrible person I am but I don't even talk about you anymore except to tell people I don't like you because I trusted you and you stabbed me in the back and you continue to do so.. There is so much worse I could do to you or say about you but I don't.

I really wish I never met you.

Just Kids, by Patti Smith

2011-07-18T10:45:00.000-07:00

Today has been filled with this feeling of dread and I cannot for the life of me place it's meaning. I feel unsettled and left of center, so left, I feel left- my body gone from my soul, wandering somewhere in the vast depths of my own stream of inspiration and longing, lives upon lives of options lost to me and drowning in my seemingly endless possibilities....

And I feel my ego is misplaced, or that I am without ego entirely, somehow. It is not my ego that speaks of my possible endeavors or accomplishments or success, but the knowledge of such great opposite, of such failure and inability. Wasted youth, wasted talent and space and love and everything and God, am I scared. I hate to admit it but I am scared. Or scarred? fuck, play on words. fuck, prose.

back up, Meagan...

I got a package today, it's a book and I knew there was a note inside, because the friend who sent it to me, she would never send something without a note, or maybe she would, but I knew she hadn't and I flipped through the book without looking at the cover, searching for her handwriting... and found it on a scrap of paper bag in the front, asking me to please read it- which is and isn't strange... is strange, because if you send a person a book, you expect them to read it, and isn't because she knows me enough that if she expresses her desire for me to understand something that she found in it, she knows I will put all my other books aside and I am already so distraught with inspiration and words and feeling that she is right, and I open the book almost immediately and I am happy she signed her note with love, because God knows I need real friends with real love and she is one person I know to be real and honest, like so many people are not. Honest with herself, and I know if it meant something to her, that this book will jar me in all the ways I need right now and I am thankful to have it.

God help me, I feel like I'm exploding

I am the Same

2011-07-12T21:26:00.000-07:00

Brooke, May 2011, Annapolis

I don't know how this happens, but I've not only maintained the number of followers I have on this blog, but I've gained a few as well. How does that work? I haven't barely updated in so long... Maybe this blog is as interesting as I'd like to think it can be, or maybe my ex who tells me over and over how good it is, isn't the only one who thinks so.

So... Why don't I update very much? Mostly because I know there are at least 58 people reading my blog, which while it's nothing compaired to how many people follow my Tumblr, I know that those people (and possibly more) are actually reading and many of them still check to see if I've posted anything new, even though it's been months and months since I was actively writing. The fact that so many people are still looking to see what I write makes me very nervous, and has caused me to get stage fright, if you will. I mean, don't get me wrong, of course it's flattering and makes me feel really good that people enjoy what I write... But the whole part of a blog for me is to be able to write whatever the fuck I want and pretend no one is reading it, though with a hope that there are people out there who are and who enjoy it. Does this make sense?

Anyway, I put Finding Nemo in. Third movie of the night, and I'm feeling left of center and there's really no reason for me to feel this way. I want to cry for hours and the only explination is my over emotional girly nonsense cause I have nothing to cry about, I am not unhappy. I am actually quite content, and particularly pleased with myself lately.

Though I always feel like I'm grasping at air, that nothing can happen fast enough and that I am cursed with forever being dissatisfied. Always wanting more, always wondering what else is out there for me, and ever wanting to better myself.

I wonder, often, who I used to be verses who I am, and it's comforting knowing that my friends from growing up all say that I haven't changed at all - which I'm sure can't be true, but at least at the core I am the same Meagan Sample.

Rant first, Birthday update later

2011-07-01T13:13:00.000-07:00

People keep telling me to go digital.

Yes, yes, I get it, I understand where you are coming from...

But when was the last time you told an artist who uses oil paints they should use Illustrator instead? Like common, stop telling me how the fuck to do what I do.

Or you could give me $2,000 and shut your face and I'll get myself a digital camera.

I LIKE film. I understand that digital is faster and more convenient and blah blah blah but I LIKE film, okay? It's not just some hipster kitchy thing I'm doing, it's just my medium of choice. Yes, I would love a digital so that I can make my turn around faster, I can test shots out and experiment, I can shoot in lower light and I can take tuns of shitty pictures without burning through my film.

See? I get it, I really do. But I dont' have the money to buy a camera, anyway. Hopefully soon I will but I live my life like a straight vagabond most of the time. Doesn't leave much room for thousands of dollars of equipment.

besides... stop telling me what to do and how to do my work.

New Year Resolutions

2011-01-02T04:53:00.000-08:00

I never make Resolutions but I do like to think of a new year as a new start... I also think of my Birthday as a new start, as well... which is conveniently half way through the year, so every six months I get a new start, haha.

This year I desperately want to work on bettering myself. Drinking less, reading more. Being a bit less outspoken and more calm instead. Listen more. But most of all, become more positive, happy and optimistic. I want to be content with myself and what I'm doing, instead of always feeling like I'm wallowing in my self pity, loneliness and self consciousness.

I spend so much time wanting friends and a lover of my own that all the time between I'm wrought with heart ache. I think this needs to be the start of the end of that. Wake up every day for ME and doing what I want and what makes me happy- and healthy.

Perhaps having such a shitty day yesterday was a good thing, a final kick in the ass that says, Meagan, if you want it, make it.

If you want it, Make it.

So:

1. Read more, party less.

2. Speak less, listen more.

3. Sleep at night, get up in the morning even if I can't sleep through the night.

4. Work out.

5. Formal shoot at least once a week.

6. No drinking during the weeks when school is in session.

7. Quit smoking by the end of the year.

8. Travel out of the country

9. Write something daily (journal/letter/blog/etc)

10. Continue eliminating people and circumstances that are a negative influence on my life.

Sleepless

2010-12-29T05:22:00.000-08:00

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??

2010-12-27T22:49:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-03T10:16:00.000-08:00

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

2010-10-23T16:36:00.000-07:00

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.

Frank Petronio

2010-09-27T09:09:00.000-07:00

Is, in my opinion, a terrible person.

On your own

2010-09-16T19:47:00.001-07:00

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

2010-09-08T11:20:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-09-02T17:57:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-07-30T07:39:00.001-07:00

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

2010-07-24T21:01:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-07-21T22:36:00.001-07:00

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

2010-05-13T16:47:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-07T20:53:00.001-07:00

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

2010-04-17T00:20:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-04-15T21:24:00.000-07:00

"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

2010-03-26T18:15:00.001-07:00

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

2010-03-23T22:07:00.000-07:00

"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

2010-03-18T09:18:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-17T11:49:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-15T08:09:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-12T12:07:00.001-08:00

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

2010-03-10T08:07:00.000-08:00

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...

2010-02-24T08:50:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-01T13:16:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-19T09:11:00.000-08:00

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.

Preparations for 2010

2009-12-31T12:04:00.000-08:00

Melissa, Brooklyn

Cleaning my car, I shed my 2010 home of years of dirt. Lost memories of cigarette butts, change, broken cd's, ex-boyfriend's business cards, love letters and pens. I save the pens and change. Store away the love letter. Taking everything from my car into my little room here at my grandparent's, I seperate storage from travel luggage. Necessities. Ex-lovers t-shirts from cameras. I notice that everything I own has a memory attached. Inadvertently or directly coming from someone else. I'm trying desperately to shed myself of other people, to rid myself of as many attachments as possible.

Hair spray left at my place by a girl who treated me like shit, a reminder that most girls, they don't see other girls as "wing-men" like guys do, they see them as competition. A burden, though a necessity. Tattoo-goo given by an old roommate who abandoned me, harshly but perhaps fairly. Clothes from the best friend I ever had, who grew tired of my problems and disappeared from my life, sticking with me long after she should have. Movie stubs from movies with could-be boyfriends. Echoes of heartache and arguments spurred by a boot, one missing, given to me by my first boyfriend.

And it goes on and on and on.

But I save a few little pieces of paper, I hoard my journals, I tuck pictures away. Memories.

I left the dozens of parking stubs on my dashboard to remember why I left Syracuse, of partying too much and trying too hard. The dried up flowers that have been there for years, I leave them there, too. They're from Nell, they have a story, too, but they remind me of her. Of my own romanticism, of her quietness. They remind me of femininity and gentleness. And empty promises. And my failure at being a good friend.

Sorting through clothes is the hardest part. I've always been one to know that clothing is the first way to express yourself. Your image. What to keep? aka: Who am I? A leather high-wasted skirt makes it into my suitcase next to long Gunne Sax dresses. My summer clothes, I'm more interested in. Sheer flowing tops, summer dresses and flouncy skirts. Lace. But I have beautiful winter dresses, as well.

Though I have no heals anymore, which is a pain.

Lately I've just been putting on the layers and forgetting the style part, all I care about is being warm and comfortable and not really thinking about what Outfit I'm going to put together. Besides, I'm sick of all my clothes.

Just eight hours to go until this horrible year is over.

Saturday morning, I start my life the way I've dreamed it for years: On the Road.

May sound tacky as fuck, but you know you wish you were doing it, too.

Santa didn't forget me

2009-12-26T08:52:00.000-08:00

He brought me a Tom-Tom GPS!! oh how that'll make my life so much easier! No need to use my phone.. which wasn't the easiest, especially in traffic! Cause, you know, it doesn't talk to me, or redirect if I miss a turn... doesn't do the points of interest thing (Food! Gas! CAMPING!!). So I'm pretty stoked about it.

Above is a photo from a couple years ago, when Jaime and I lived together and shot every day. Have I mentioned he's talking about making a book out of a bunch of pictures we did together? I think that's pretty neat.

I miss being a muse. :(

Which I've been for two photographers, now. Striving to be an inspiring model, and self-successful wardrobe/hair and makeup person. Something different all the time. For someone who doesn't expect anything from me but fun and collaboration and great pictures. A friendship and a great working photographer/model relationship.

And love.

I love love.

From Port Huron to Albuquerque

2009-12-23T13:24:00.000-08:00

I just spent the last couple hours planning out my trip across country.. Only got from my grandparents to Albuquerque, but that's over three days of driving non-stop, and of course I plan on stopping. I don't know why I bothered to plan it all out on Google maps and even print out the 12 pages of directions. I have an iphone and I know I wont stick to the route. Maybe I will, mostly. I feel better having printed out where I'm going. I mean, what if I have no signal on my phone? Not that I care, I'll just keep going west.... Which was what I wanted to do anyway, just get in my car and chase down the sunset day after day, not really knowing where I was going or caring. But, hey, I guess things go better if you plan. Or so I'm led to believe. Not that any of my plans ever go through, though. Which also makes me want to throw out these print-outs. I really just want to not worry about a thing and just go... But I do want to do modeling on the way so I guess I do need to know where I'll be! I'm such a last minute kind of person, a whimsical kinda gal. I thrive on stress and chaos. I'm at my best when I throw my hands up and say fuck it! THIS WAY!

Move on instinct and desire...

My Mom Is Better Than Yours

2009-12-22T10:56:00.000-08:00

Alright alright, so I don't totally hate winter. Snow is pretty, and it's nice to appreciate the warm weather. And I'm from upstate NY so I feel pride in man-ing the snowy roads in my Oldsmobile. hah!

And while I hate Christmas, it's mostly because I always feel friendless and lonely and I never can afford presents for anyone and, shit, I always get very little for Christmas.

However, yesterday I got a package from my Mom, which was really sweet. It says "Do not open until Christmas" and "Merry Christmas, Sweety!" along with a card that has a note "I miss you" with a crying sad face, which made me cry, cause I really think my mom is the best in the entire world.

She brought me up with some very sound advice, such as:

"Find a job you LOVE, not just one that will make you money."

"Women's rights really screwed us"

"Love's not everything"

and much more, including (when I got older), "Merry rich" (which I always got mad about but now it doesn't sound like a bad idea) and "it's not the dick, it's how he uses it". Which was hilarious and somewhat embarrassing when she said it, but it stuck with me and it's so. true.

oh and, "The only way a person will change is if THEY want to."

etc.

She also brought me and my siblings up with an ever present sense of freedom and adventure. We often went on random mini road trips to see our older sister, five hours south of us. One day I came home in fourth grade to a sister who was supposed to be home sick helping my mother load a rented red van headed for Florida. They had me and my brother's clothes packed and we got right off the bus, changed out of our school outfits and were off! She just really needed the sunshine beaches, and right now, so do I.

Here I come Florida!

I can't wait to take pictures the whole way, of being in my car and seeing the land change from winter to summer. Spring time is when I took the picture above, and spring time is my favorite season, and I always have done the majority of my traveling in that time. Those first couple weeks of finally putting the windows down in the middle of the day cause it's just warm enough, the sun melting snow, breaking out shorts prematurely- amazing.

The mud is ugly as fuck, but damn, that spring sunshine is like air out of water!

tick tock tick tock.... !!

ps- Fuck You.

2009-12-21T12:36:00.000-08:00

Lessons for the day:

-If you can't beat em, join em. Or at least pretend.

-If you want to win the game, you must recognize the rules.

-Always dress the fucking way you want, Meagan. Who cares where you're going or what you're doing. Just because everyone else looks all perfectly pretty, doesn't mean you have to. After all, that's just SO not you. Get with it.

-In party pictures, the proper way to pose is side-wise, hand on your hip and a nice big smile! Remember: Tuns of makeup when photographers are looming about constantly is a GOOD thing. Being too drunk, pissed off and spitting Red Bull is BAD. (Although I've decided to go with my original plan of wearing dark fuck-you makeup and glaring at the camera, instead...)

Have I mentioned I HATE rules?

Michigan's not that bad...

2009-12-14T12:36:00.000-08:00

Every time I read your words I cry. I fight back angry and regretful tears. I fight back my closing throat and burning eyes, blinking through that mysterious emotion-filled water. I take a breath and tell myself everything happens for a reason, everything will be fine. I will be fine, he will be fine, everyone will be fine. And hopefully one day I'll be happy again, too.

That's something I realized in my last little photo extravaganza... that I am sad.

After shooting with Dan Lippitt for the better part of Saturday, we were looking through the images and all I saw was this saddness that I didn't know was there. I was so shocked to see these sad pictures of me when I hadn't felt sad at all!

There was this one time, over a year ago, that I had some fucking issues on my way to a art-nude shoot with another model. I was freaking. Near hysterics driving from Brooklyn to Hoboken. I ramble off to the girl about the fight my boyfriend-at-the-time and I had. You know those sorts of tears, the ones where they just fall big and fat like you're 4 years old and just got disneyland taken away from you? Yeah those kind. I couldn't stop, I was so upset. We got there and I got myself under control and thought I could just use my heart wrenching pain as ammo, you know? Like eat that, fucker, look at this awesome picture of me being so sad and you made it happen.

It totally backfired because the photographer had his own plans that had nothing to do with my pain. Which I couldn't understand. If a pretty girl showed up to shoot with me and was like, "I'm really upset but I want to shoot." I'd be stoked and base everything around her heartache.

I don't know, I think he was afraid of my unabashed crocodile tears.

And yeah, now I think I can cry on cue, if anyone's interested. Makes me want to take a stab at acting... I associate being able to cry infront of people in some sort of character role to be the hardest part of acting.

But for now I'm stuck right here. My car is at the shop because it broke down last week. Of course. Better a couple miles away rather than a couple hundred miles away. What if I had decided to drive to Chicago a few days before? What if I hadn't gone out that night and was out in Pontiac? Blah, could have been a lot worse.

I guess that's what happens when you have a car for seven years and never wash it and drive it excessively and can't afford to properly keep up with it. Hopefully now it'll be ready for my escape. I'm starting to already feel trapped here. Often I get this feeling/image of me draped in a cloth or net, that's heavy and tangling, and I can't panic or I'll just get more trapped... but I want to twitch and scream and claw.

on a side ending note, I'd like to say that meeting the beautiful girls I did in the last few days really made me feel homely. That and my shaved head causes girls to treat me like a lesbian. But in a good way. I think girls like girls who like girls. Whether they like girls or not. So sometimes I act like a boy.

Run Meagan Run

2009-12-09T10:20:00.000-08:00

I finally get a two hour shift for sure today. Woohoo! At least it's something, and the paid nude work is slowly appearing, which is great. (edit: just as I posted this, I got a call from my boss saying that they were over scheduled for the day and didn't need me to come in. dammit.)

That little voice that says, "get the fuck out of here.. get the fuck out..." is nagging.

I've been accused many times of, "running away". From arguments, problems, etc. But you know what, I'm alright with that. If I walk away (which I often do) it's because the argument isn't worth it to me. Often the only arguments I stick around to continue are the ones with my sister, and I think that's just because they're so old and frustrating that I'm tethered there, unable to turn away. Though she's accused me of walking away, too.

Once again, I'm not so against it. I don't know if I am mentally walking away from my problems though, I feel like I'm not. I carry them with me, I just don't like arguing (unless it's for sexually aggressive reasons, that, however, is for another post). I am often in the wrong and while I used to have a really big problem apologizing, I've gotten pretty good at it in the last couple years. Which I think is good.. good to recognize when you are wrong, and good to bring it to the person's attention who you wronged that you're accepting your fault. I don't like bad blood between me and others. It makes me uncomfortable. Years later, I'm still uncomfortable about a couple people who I have unresolved issues with.

Run away, Meagan, run run run. Run away from your past, run away from your mistakes, start over, run away from your own broken heart and those you've broken, run away from judgments both right and wrong, run away from those who know where your scars came from.

I love that I'm hitting the road soon. Every day is counted...

Live Laugh Love

2009-12-08T20:48:00.000-08:00

I've had a headache for days, and I don't know why. I'm terrified that it's my wisdom teeth coming in, really really terrified. The idea of having to deal with this before I begin my adventure is very real and very serious. I have no idea how far that would set me back on my travels, and have half a mind to pretend it's not happening- a big part of me would rather deal with whatever happens in my mouth rather than hang around longer, sitting on my hands and waiting for the snow to freeze me indoors.

I know, I know, it would be stupid to ignore the needs of my dental, especially after having had taken care of them so well up until now. Fuck US health insurance bullshit, it makes me so mad. The idea that I could be set back thousands of dollars because of fucking wisdom teeth is very frustrating.

***

On another note, I've been obsessively thinking about my past relationships and the hugely obvious common denominator: my destruction of them.

Every time I have something good with a guy, I destroy it. Whether it's slow or quick, either way I destroy it. Just fucking blow it out of the water. Why? I don't really know. I think maybe I get frustrated that it's not all I want so maybe I'm wasting my time, or that I shouldn't be treated well so I should split, or I think it's all a facade - that so and so doesn't actually like me, they're secretly embarrassed of my nutty behavior and their friends all talk about me behind my back. And, in a couple instances - I get convinced I like them more and they'll never like me as much as I like them so I better fucking ditch asap because I'm obviously not cool enough, pretty enough or good enough, in general.

I have a real hang up about not being cool enough, pretty enough, good enough at anything or everything. I obsessively look read people, I obsessively want everyone to like me while at the same time screaming, "Fuck you, I don't give a fuck!" Later I look at pictures I've taken of people and see the hate in the girl's eyes, the judgment in both sexes.

A friend of mine suggested making a book: "Girls who hate me" or some such thing, cause I swear, I have a lot of hot pictures of girls who DO hate me. I can see it in their eyes, and it's so unappealing, confusing and disturbing. Then there is that one or two frames where they let their guard down and bing-bing-bing we have a winner!

I swear, the range of reactions my personality gets out of people is all across the board. I guess it depends on my mood. Some people just see completely different Meagans.. depending on how they act and how I feel that day. I'm a moody sonofabitch.

None the less, another friend of mine pointed out that I am not going to change, and shouldn't care about changing. And I completely agree. I've come to the conclusion that I've spent so much of my time trying to be something better, that I've lost track of just being me. I always preach about being whoever you are and fuck anyone who doesn't like it, but I don't think I live it, not truly. Not that I'll ever stop trying to be the best I can, cause I think that's part of the whole journey I'm going on.

Just live laugh love.
Enjoy the ride, you know?
The ones that matter'll come together.

Fuckin hippy.

Just a Pen and a Camera

2009-12-05T08:36:00.001-08:00

It's infuriating to me to think that the more I try, the less I get. This seems unbearably tried and true and it seems ridiculously unfair. But the truth of the matter is, no one likes the look of desperation, in any form. People want to see that you're maybe somewhat interested, definitely doing your own thing and uncaring about judgments of other people. Which is bullshit, because everyone cares what others think, to some degree or another. No one likes being alone.

At the moment: I'm pissed off.

I'm pissed off because I've been looking through party pictures from Syracuse and I can see on these people's faces the lack of interest or respect for me. I'm pissed because I can't hang on to the people I care about. Because I had a dream about the one pseudo enemy I have emailing me some sort of nice truce. Pissed about having to stay in one spot, pissed about not having a lover.. just fucking pissed in general. Pissed at ex's for being ex's, pissed at Apollo for being beautiful and careless, pissed at a handful of women who are bitches to me for no good reason, pissed at shitty actors, photographers, models and authors who get paid retarded amounts of money for being pieces of shit. Pissed that the world revolves around who you know, not what you can do. Perseverance only goes so far as dedication to shoving your work in the right peoples faces until they're tired of telling you to go away.

Why I'm pissed off, example 1:

The other day, I had an older man come up to me and just rip into me for no good reason. I was sitting at a cafe, trying to write (in my blog, in my journal, just anything really) and he drunkenly comes up to me, pointing out that I've sat behind my computer for a couple hours and asks me what I'm doing. Here I thought he would be happy to see a young person trying to be creative and what-have-you and I smile big and say the easiest answer, "I'm blogging". Which, to me, is simple. A blog is an online journal where anyone can write whatever the fuck they want.

He decides to rip into me for about twenty minutes about how my blog must be shit, must have no worth or substance because I've done no research on anything, never having read the classics, and that just because people read it doesn't mean it has value, it just means that morons are following it.

Excuse me?

After explaining to him that I was currently reading Catch-22 and Wuthering Hights, his attitude changed completely. I drilled back into him about how "an Intellectual" would not put words in another's mouth and surely wouldn't assume intelligence, pointing out that he hadn't even taken a breath to ask me what books I liked or what my thoughts on blogging in general were.

huff.

Not saying that my blog has any substance but I write it for myself. Sure, I want others to read it, and I'd love to think that people enjoy what I am writing, but ultimately it doesn't matter to me. I have secret blogs that I write in that no one knows about. I have paper journals and I write letters that sometimes get sent but mostly they get stored away.

Same thing with my pictures. They're for me. My memories. My life. Feel free to enjoy them, but don't bother judging it's content. I'm just a girl with a pen and a camera. Nothing more.

The truth is, is that I know I have a handful of readers, and I studder over what to say. I do care, and I am afraid of judgment.

Meet Apollo

2009-11-30T20:48:00.000-08:00

I remember when I first saw him and I know he remembers it too, perhaps better from how I tell it than from his own point of view, even.

I was with my friend Holly. We always dressed up in some fabulous outfits and we always stood out ridiculously because no one dressed up like we did. It was a Saturday and we held a ritual of drinking wine after work, sure to be the best dressed and oh-so-proud of it (she being a stylist and a vintage clothing hoarder). I wore heals that made me tower at over six foot- mostly a challenge to boys, maybe a desperate call to find someone like Him. Tall. Beautiful. And Beautiful and Tall is exactly what I saw when I walked into the bar that night.

He wore that plaid shirt everyone's seen him in a million times. Black hair, scruffy face, green eyes and the smile to totally knock me over. Perfect. God-like.

Meagan, meet Apollo.

"Holly!" A frantic whisper, barely taking my eyes off of him as he disappeared into the smoking room. I asked her if she'd seen that tall dark retardedly-handsome man, though I can't remember her answer and I don't think I was too concerned with the response. I told her I was going to take my drink and go smoke another cigarette, even though I'd just finished one. Who fucking cared, I couldn't wait to be near him.

I don't think I could have been so bold had I not had a couple drinks before we got there- just enough to give me the liquid courage to saunter up to him and I knew I looked good- long legs, hot black dress (whatever it was, I don't remember except it was black), thick black eye-makeup like I now know he loves.

I eyed you and did I think I asked for a light. I believe I did. Mostly I remember your smile as I told you that you were the hottest man I'd ever seen (still true), taking a drag I rambled the way I do when I get excited in that hyper way, "I'm just going to stand right here next to you if you don't mind and look at you while I smoke this here cigarette," Taking a breath and a drag at the same time- two birds with one stone, "I saw you from across the bar and I just had to come out here and talk to you, my panties are just bursting!" and a leak of giggles slipping out (nerves, I'm sure, and who says that?!).

I look back and wonder what is it I was actually thinking? Was I drunk? Was I that confident that a man like him a) would be single and b) would be interested in me and my model stats? Damn, my ego. Damn my ego swelling outfit!

But good Lord, that smile again! So delighted by my showering of adoration, he laughed and turned to the girl standing next to him and introduced her as his girlfriend. I hadn't even noticed her before then, not even an inkling of an idea that she existed at all. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was at least a foot shorter than me- us. Maybe it was the tattoos that so un-femininely covered her arms and chest (the staple of Syracuse girls). But she gave me a smile that could shatter most evil-eyes, bright red lipstick stretching across a sweet but knowing face. As if she was used to him hitting on girls in front of her, though with the bite of an actual threat this time.

I tried very hard to be nonchalant about it. I tried hitting on her a bit. Complementing her on her.. shoes or something. I think my Apollo watched me, still happy with my strong attempts and perhaps enjoying my not-so-well blanketed discomfort. I remember him saying, "It's okay." But by that point there's no other option but to leave.

I dismissed myself with a blush and a smile, him standing there, slouching to one side, his head cocked a little further- his whole body tilted on an angle, grinning at me, assessing me.

Most girls would call his unshaven face, long hair and cocky smile "scumbag". And while I can't really disagree, he was still the most beautiful man I'd ever seen in my life...

Freedom of Thought, Freedom of Expression

2009-11-30T10:37:00.000-08:00

I've been giving my blog a lot of thought. Well, actually, I always give my blog a lot of thought. Today I realized I've maintained an online journal for eight years. Eight years. Long time, I think. And I look back to my first posts on my first journal and it's terribly embarrassing. In fact, I've been working on copying those entries into appleworks and DELETING THEM FOREVER. But, really, I'm not so embarrassed about my 16 year old self. The girl who ached over her lonely heart, who jumped to conclusions, who sought out curious information on occult topics, who said stupid immature things constantly. Just a couple of friends, totally naive. Not much has changed except the naive part.

But it's served it's purpose. I can go back to journals from when I was eight years old and find out what I was interested in. Back then I spelled terribly and wrote simple sentences like, "to day wus melody and me berthday. we ternd 9."

Again. Not much has changed. ;)

But I also recognize my desire to tell more of a story, rather than just purely expose my general feelings on life. But I fear judgments from those I care about. Perhaps someone gets their feelings hurt. Perhaps someone wont realize that there are multiple sides to a story, even your own.

I tend to look at a situation from multiple angles. A simple one being that of a love-hate relationship. You love someone for this reason, hate them for that reason. But can you really love and hate someone at the same time? I don't think so, but it is a way to express yourself. So, it's easy to say you can tell the story from the love side or the hate side, and yet neither would be completely true without the other.

Hence, I suppose, memoirs are based on truth.

Here on out I plan on sharing stories. They will be based on truth, shaped around my feelings- which often change reality. Names will be replaced. So don't believe anything you read here. Things change, people change, feelings change. I may drive you away or drive you toward. Here goes...

Movie Review: New Moon

2009-11-25T09:18:00.000-08:00

1) I'm going to become an actor. If they can do it, I sure as fuck can.

2) You'd think entertainment budgets would be able to supply us with more. Particularly with this plot line. It was fucking terrible. I felt like the movie would never end...

3) Dakota Fanning, you stole it. Thankyou for saving me from certain death with your five minutes and two lines on the screen. (She'll turn SIXTEEN this February, can you believe it? And she looks so timeless as the evil Jane... I look forward to seeing her in the next Twilight movie, and hoping to see her as more evil characters in the future! We don't get to see many child actors maintain the screen, but she could play some serious rolls in her teens, and I hope she does.)

4) I don't believe Kristin Stewart has EVER had a kiss that's knocked her off her feet. You know the kind (for those who have read the books.. the kind that Bella and Edward are SUPPOSED to have), the breathless shivering mind numbing type. Instead they're groaning on screen so all us sudden 13 year olds can be squeamish. She almost got it with her depression and crying but once again, I doubt the girl has ever been truly heartbroken.

Overall, a disappointment. Not that I expected much.

Book Review: Eclipse

2009-11-23T16:56:00.000-08:00

Maybe I should change the title from "Book Review" to "book Reflection". Seeing as all I have after this book is this: If I found someone I really loved and who really loved me and we thought we honestly were going to be together for the rest of our lives, I'd love to get married.

Now, I don't see myself as the marrying type. I see myself as the kinda woman who will drift around doing what I do and never settle anywhere or with anyone. Though not for lack of desire to do so, but because that's just how I believe it'll go. That and I don't have faith in people to be able to dedicate themselves to one person. I want to believe in soul mates and true love, but it's hard when I see so many broken families and divorce and cheating and.... you get the point.

But.. you never know.

Book Review: The Alchemist

2009-11-20T19:03:00.000-08:00

If you want an easy read book that will inspire you to follow your dreams: this one is perfect. At first slow, and definately a fairly elementary read, it winds you with phrases like "Personal Legend", "Soul of the World" and "universal language" that by the end has you aching to do some inner searching to find your own path to your own treasure.

My treasure is calling me from California.

I, for one, believe that we all have a right path, one that will make us the happiest and most fufilled. I also believe that when you stray from this path, things start to go wrong until you find it again. I honestly believe that the Universe or God or whatever you wish to believe in, wants us to be satisfied, have love and be happy.

Book Review: New Moon

2009-11-20T18:45:00.000-08:00

Honestly I have the same complaints I do about the first, though perhaps less so. It wasn't so bad this time, seeing as I didn't know what was going on because I haven't seen the movie first. Still slow and frustrating (particularly about her taking so long to figure out the warewolf part... I JUST watched the trailer for it and it's RIGHT in it... it take Bella HALF the book to finally figure it out...). Man up, Edward!! And what was all that about her heming and hawing about getting married? But she wants to be a vampire? yeah that makes no sense. Particularly when it's obvious that in these books, vampires take life-partners and get all suicidal when theirs die.

I think that's what kills me the most, though.

I want that kind of love that she feels and it makes me so depressed and anxious, so torn up and emotional. To think that there is that sort of love out there, that kind that is renching and heart splitting. Bed ridden heartache, mind numbing. How she explains holding herself together, physically - it just makes my heart ache.

My heart usually aches a lot, anyway.

While I'm sure most girls dream about it growing up, it's been an obsessive part of my thoughts for as long as I can remember. Wanting so badly that unconditional responsive love, from both sides. That one where you both KNOW that it's just meant to be, where your souls just meet and never want to part. It's the unquestionable driving force behind everything I do and the worst part is- I don't think I'll ever get it, and if I do, I believe it'll be fleeting. Or worse, one sided.

The terror I feel when I think of that sort of love is real, and has lead to many many tears for me.

eh, on to the next book.

I'm In Another Book!

2009-11-18T10:19:00.000-08:00

Which you can pre-order here.

This contains pictures of the more risque nature - the ones I'm secretly terribly proud of but too shy to show off. They're the type your boyfriend might take. You know, Tits the center of attention, flash and running eye makeup. The butt-pop. I don't advertise these photos like I do the rest of them because I don't want GWC's thinking that I freely do this sort of work. First of all, Tony approached me in an extremely professional manner and immediately offered it as a paid shoot, no if ands or butts about it. Just my cup of tea. Plus I got there and he was cool as shit, talking about him and his wife's place upstate, showing me pictures of his re-decorated summer house. No pretenses, no expectations. Plus, he told me I reminded him greatly of Sasha Grey and, shit, if I was going to be compared to a porn star it better fuckin be her. I got naked in a park. Boys love that public nudity thing. It was right next to a free-way and I'm surprised I didn't cause an accident. Maybe NYC is just THAT desensitized. Even MY tits can't cause bumper lickins.

Apparently I'm all over the book. Even though there was never any food involved. There was an amazing sequence dress from Thriftwares.com which I wish I still had. Have you ever seen those disk sequence dresses? yeah it was one of those. Like quarter size. Shimmy-able, flapper-ish. Hot.

Anyway. I can see lake Michigan from the window here. It was sunny out, and pretty nice.. but the clouds rolled in. I like being able to see the beach from inside here. Pretty awesome if you ask me.

Tasks for today:
-Apply for a few jobs
-bring my Konica Auto-Reflex to the doctor (I'm fucking terrified they'll tell me they can't fix it and have been putting it off for over a year :( )
-Type a page on my typewriter
-Clean out my car and organize my room

Most likely I'll get caught back into New Moon sometime before and after I bring my camera to the shop.

Oh, did I mention I get a free copy of said book? Oh yeahhhhh
One day I'll be able to buy Sander's and Frank's.

Book Review: Twilight

2009-11-17T13:53:00.001-08:00

In two days, I read this book Twilight. It's really fucking big and I pretty much spent all my time reading it. I'm a slow reader but I'm determined to read the whole series in record time. Which is a bit grueling, considering the story is terribly drawn out. One day at school, I swear, takes at least two chapters. I mean, by all means, stress to me the importance of Bella waiting for her Prince Charming to return from his week-long hissy fit that she smells so damn good, but does it really need to take up a third of the book?

I suppose I'm just irritated that good vampire books don't exist for adults without being romance or graphic novels or something. Is there such a thing as well written, well plotted fantasy books? Or is it all lost on adolescence? I remember reading on particularly good vampire book when I was younger, though I don't recall the name of it. It was not a series and it was not painfully drawn out.

And, for the record, I thought the movie fucking blew. Like really big time sucked. But I love vampires to no end and will read every vampire book I can get my hands on, no matter how grueling. Okay, I lied, I can't stomach forcing myself through Anne Rice and her gay boy fantasies and over descriptions (and, once again, DRAWN OUT).

I would also like to point out that by the end of Twilight, it's just like the movie- no meantion of some other warewolf boyfriend coming along. However, the cover of New Moon has a movie cover on it, with Miss Bella standing with some douchebag who is NOT Edward (who she apparently is MADLY in love with).

First of all, this is a terrible spoiler. Second of all, they go further to include a poster in the inside, with Bella being all slutty on Mr Warewolf and Edward looking all sad and pathetic.

This just makes me mad. The boy's been 17 for a hundred years and looses his human girlfriend to some harry moon beast and gets all pouty? Bitch'd be crying, not me, if I were him. piff!

Alright, off to read New Moon.

On last thing: I will read New Moon within the next couple days and then go watch the fucking movie. I will hate it and bitch about it for days after that, too. You know, while I read the NEXT book in the series. I bought that stupid Twilight movie and watched it like three times trying to convince myself it wasn't as bad as it was, but I'm telling you what - there's no saving that movie. Those kids can't act and the script was taken right from the book. I don't want to feel like I'm being read to in a movie, I was to experience it. They just did such a poor job on a movie that had so much more potential.

And the part that really boggles my mind: So many people love it!

I could understand kids liking it, but common. If you're out of High School, you should be able to tell the difference between a cute fantasy movie (How about The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe? Or The Golden Compass?) and something that should have been THROWN AWAY before it hit the theaters.

I guess it just comes down to the fact that everyone's obsessed with these beautiful eternal demons.

I miss when different was actually different.
Eventually we're going to be reading books on devout Catholics.

Michigan

2009-11-15T21:05:00.001-08:00

I've sat down at a computer many times and pulled up my blog wanting to say something, and continuously draw a blank. Being in Michigan is the first step to an adventure I've been mentally planning for years. This desire to drive around the country and do some soul searching and photographic work is overwhelming and just a breath away. I thought at first I'd be able to find paid modeling work to make this dream a reality, yet I have a very hard time hunting down photographers who pay. Money talk makes me uncomfortable, for sure, so asking to have them hand over a certain amount for the lending of my tits weirds me out. But I so desperately want to travel around the country and really SEE it... photograph it myself... do some road meditating. Whatever. I'm sad and frustrated and feel like I'm suffocating, buried alive, drowning! I just wish things would neatly fall into place so that I knew I was going the right way. Fuck this winter! I don't want anything to do with it. I want to write on my typerwriter every day and take pictures constantly. Model for beautiful images and make money so I can actually do this.

fuck. I'm craving salad.

What a stupid entry. More tomorrow... at least I posted something.

Pot Roast, again

2009-09-09T11:04:00.000-07:00

photo by Frank Petronio

I get really tired with my lack of people to rely on, befriend, trust and hang out with.

You'd think making awesome home made pot roast would be incentive to get people to come chill with me, but I suppose that my crazy behavior is more damaging than I realize.

I try hard to learn from Melody's behavior, try to imitate her... to be more like her. She is fun and hyper and crazy. She's never angry, short tempered or rude. Sometimes crass, she always has grace in it.

Fuck... One day I'll get it.

Don't be a crazy cunt, Meagan.

New York; tick-tock!

2009-09-01T14:01:00.000-07:00

A breathed name
The world pinpointed
spark.

go..

Mysterious

2009-08-26T16:11:00.001-07:00

A couple days ago, I was called "mysterious".
I've always wanted to be mysterious,
and I say to him, "Mysterious!? But I wear myself on my smeared all over my sleeve!"
He replies, "That's why you're mysterious.. I guess the more you know, the less you think you do."

alright. I'll take it.

The Good Twin Visits

2009-08-26T15:57:00.000-07:00

Our entire life everyone we know has labled Melody the Good Twin and me the Evil Twin. We both embrace our titles with pride, although I think we both would agree that we are equally Good and Evil, it just so happens that I'm more crass. Honestly, I think Melody hates more people than I do, I'm just mean about it when it does happen. I'm sort (hot) tempered. And then we really took to our said roles and she went blonde and me black. The ditz and the goth.

She came to visit last weekend and we had a great time. I made pot roast which came out amaaazing. Thanks to Mr Graham for taking me to that amazing little restraunt around the corner from his house in Park Slope (where is it?) which gave me the idea for the extra special gravy with nutmeg in it. (I'm a pretty good cook (if I do say so myself..), specializing in what I like to call "gormet comfort food.")

We partied hard. Pictures to follow soon.

Life in general is looking up.

I've adapted the idea of "NOT MAKING PLANS" for anything. I don't know why I started, I've always been a spontanious person. Embracing myself.

Though I miss this Meagan, in the below picture, who was fairly nieve and innocent. I hung onto it as long as I can... but I am becoming a woman. A closed, dark mess. Oh well.

At least I can cook and fuck. Though I haven't tried doing both at the same time, though it's come close. I mean, lets be serious... what more could men really ask for in a woman? ;)

READ LIZ'S AMAZING POETRY!

2009-08-17T16:11:00.000-07:00

Liz, my roommate and new awesomeness in my life, is a great writer. I read this poem she wrote and cried. Enjoy.

Here is one that I love, titled,

"Untitled, Twice"

My heart and soul remain in deep conflict now
half of me desperate for stability, for
anything to count on ever.
Knowing full well that nothing
will ever be the same again.

Do you:
give in
straighten up
consolidate your debt
very low interest!
easy monthly installments!
Do you:
trade in your rust box and
sign a lease for Something Shiny?
Pay Your Bills When They Arrive.
Brush Your Teeth With Bleach.
Or do you:
GET OUT NOW.
pack your shit up for your landlord and
throw yourself to the curb.
leave your dog at your boyfriend's with
that spare key he gave you on her collar.

TAKE OFF.
hit the road running
head south and
start a fire without matches.
Build that bungalow with a sod floor and
sleep in hammocks wrapped in
the heavy scent of magnolia.
Roast persimmons with light bulbs
and smear that juice,
that red orange of liberation will just slide down your throat
Like You've Always Dreamed Of, and

no man will ever swing his cock at you
again.
Willl never make you suck your yeast infection
from his foreskin.
Will Never Hurt You.

You will sleep naked,
with no fear of violation.
There is a woods out there where
you can start over.

written by mis Lizzy Boness

Goal

2009-08-12T16:17:00.001-07:00

Please let my passion for photography not be misplaced,
Please let me be as great as Ellen Von Unwerth...

Roaring Jeeps

2009-08-11T22:37:00.000-07:00

Jeeps are taking over my life. And appropriately. Anyone with a fucking jeep is cool, I swear to god.

But that's really besides the point (other than the fact that four wheeling is absolutely amazingly fucking fun). The real point is that:

Tonight there's a meteor shower. Amazing!

I could not be more excited.
I'm setting an alarm for 4:15 and I pity those who are in big cities and are missing out on such adventurous marvels.

And of course, I'm bringing my awesome Rolleiflex.

eek!

Hot Mess

2009-08-11T17:44:00.000-07:00

I've been cleaning all day. I should say, "cleaning". What I've really been doing is thinking about cleaning and actually not doing a lot of it. But I terribly enjoy having days like this. I've eaten wings and watched The Secretary and Pans Labyrinth, both of which I've watched like a trillion times and both I love love love. Like top five love. Others would be Children of Men, V for Vendetta and The Night Porter.

They all have two things in common: Rebellion and Love. God, now there's me in a nutshell. But they all are something different, too. Embracing yourself, dreaming, freedom, goodness, evil, justice, power, BDSM. Or maybe they all include all of those things. I dunno, what do you think?

If you've never seen one or all of these movies, I highly recommend them. Pan's Labyrinth is in Spanish, The Night Porter is in French. If you don't like movies with subtitles, get the fuck outa here, loser.

Anyway. Kitten cuddling (we named him Bowie, because I thought it was a girl, but alas, those are balls..) and laundry and dishes and general picking up. Putting away clothes

I have the most intense (mostly vintage) wardrobe. I have like twenty nightgowns. Hundreds of dresses. I have this obsession with being as womanly as I can in some ways. Night gowns, making breakfast, cleaning. I did my roommates laundry for her, and while some people argue that there are people who just do things in order to be nice, having no desire to get something back, I think that's bullshit. Because if nothing else, you're like me, and want love and approval. Often that's the only way I get a lot of cleaning and shit done.. I hold in my head my non existent lover's acceptance and approval of everything I'm doing for said non existent lover. I wash dishes, sweep, mop, do laundry, put away clothes, clean.. in love with them, for this person. It's like practice for when I finally get to have someone to rely on and love me. Dammit, I'm such a romantic. An angry spitting spiteful bitchy romantic.

Otherwise I'm a lazy shit.

That besides the point, I have like a million rolls of film I'm dying to develop. I have no idea what's even on them. Nakedness, sex, beauty, drunk, men, women, bars. My life in photos.

Which reminds me.. I thinki I might be the only one who desperately hates people looking through my binders of negatives. That's my life, it's like a journal. There is all sorts of shit in there I don't want people to see. Mistakes, private things, etc. It causes me terrible anxiety when someone starts flipping through one of these massive binders. It's like get the fuck off my shit maaan. It's caught me off guard before and I'm like "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" no no no, you can't do that.

And I wonder why everyone in my college didn't like me. I came off as such a bitch, but really I was REALLY into photography, unlike all of them. I live it, I breathe it. Everything is a potential picture and I've been collecting cameras since I was a child, for Christ sake.

So many people just pick up a camera and figure they can MAKE it. But it'd be like me picking up a paint brush and trying to become a famous painter when all I can draw is stick figures. I mean, I get it, it's easy, you push a button and the digital shit does everything for you. You fuck around a bit in photoshop. Easy peasy... NOT. Where's that angle, depth of field, intense look in her eye, good hair and clothes and makeup?

I tell people I take pictures (cause I'm uncomfortable calling myself a photographer.. or I say "I do photography") and they want to compair notes. I tell people I'm a model and they're impressed. I'm not a fucking model, I'm a hot photographer.

end of story.

bah, embrace the modelographer.

The Road To Success

2009-08-10T09:37:00.000-07:00

I can't stop watching the Travel Channel. I can't stop wanting to meet and photograph locals everywhere, anywhere! I keep telling myself to start here, in Syracuse.. fucking armpit of new york state. Kill me now, I need adventure! How am I going to get out of here, how will I survive? My saving grace is my new friend Liz who is just as fucking crazy as I am and I fucking love her. She drinks, fucks, cuddles, randomizes, knows what she wants and is funny as shit. I laugh and am comfortable and MYSELF around her and it's glorious. I am lost and chaotic! And she is okay with it. Nice!

I feel like if I could take her, Shakti and Sarah with me on a long road trip, it would be pretty awesome. They are all intense and crazy.

I could talk to everyone and anyone and be on top of the world. What? I am on top of the world. I am under a rock, stuck and squirming but I'm on top of the fucking world. The world is my oyster? I'm a shark, I'm a ghost, a gold fish! I'll try anything once and let you watch me exploit myself. I'll be louder and crazier than you which will make you look awesome. This whirlwind will love you unquestionably, will bring fire, fight the biggest asshole. I'll cause second hand embarrassment and flash you to find glee in your awkwardness and arrousal. I'll apologize for being too drunk and angry and then do it again. I'll molest you and sleep alone. I'll pop birth control and be celibate. I'll fuck you AND your boyfriend. Girlfriend. Whatever. I am nonjudgmental except for snobs and then I might spit in your face and loose the fight that ensues. I'll laugh at myself. I'll kiss you and ditch you. I'll sit naked at a bar in the middle of the night in the middle of the week, sober. I'll get smashed and put my clothes back on. I am an attention whore. I am an exibitionest. I say things I don't mean. I am a gypsy. I am a photographer. I am honesty, a lover, contradicting, hypocritical, gay. I am fucked. I am your orgasm. I hate you. I don't care. I care. I am comfortable.

I'll make you breakfast in heals and panties, then chain smoke in front of your family.

Them chains, they're 'bout to drag me down..

2009-08-03T20:13:00.000-07:00

So I got arrested.

Are you surprised?
(didn't think so)

I seem to have a run with shitty landlords. And then an even bigger sausage-head fat-ass short little Napoleon brunt who probably got kicked out of highschool football and decided to be the biggest asshole in his fraternity.

I mean, yeah, I'm talking about the cop the landlord brought on Saturday morning. The first of the month. I'm such an idiot for thinking casually. That last day means the line between 19 hours of locked up four wall freezing no-rights torture. Miranda rights are apparently optional..

"People should not be afraid of their governments, Governments should be afraid of their People."

Fuck, man. I'm starting to really believe that people are innately evil, whereas I've always believed the opposite. This whole thought of, "nice guys finish last" is terribly true, I'm realizing. HOWEVER that doesn't give you right to be a dick about it, letting it make you evil, too. Which, I suppose, goes against what I just said about innately evil.

It's a confusing thought that I've struggled with,
that linked to the idea of Nature vs Nurture
(which, I suppose, is the same).

I really think all of this (the hate against a group (any group)) is some American Dream mindset gone completely sour. Everyone's better than everyone else. Many people (most?) judge you upon meeting you. The worst of them are the chivalrous-less brainless power-by-force types that squash others on their scramble to be bigger and better than YOU. I keep saying it, but what happened to manners and a sense of community?

Don't ask me what happened, just listen to the grape vine.
I know you're all waiting for some juicy gossip.

I"M PART OF A REALLY AMAZING BOOK, MMKAY?!

2009-07-28T01:49:00.000-07:00

So I've been sitting here smoking cigarettes and sipping on the same Stella for about two hours while catching up on my internet life and wondering why the fuck I'm still awake after busting my ass moving... when I decide to click the link on Sanders' Model Mayhem page to the url where you can buy his newly published book.

In the email he sent me he says "it's not cheep", so I'm driven to wonder how much it is... Well, I was expecting $100+ but it's *only* $70 and I'm sofuckingready to drop it as soon as I have it because it is, well, astounding. Every single picture does exactly what the title says it does: tell a whole sort of story in the simplest ways... naked. Each photo is a beautiful capture of pure personality. I was forced to look through page after page, from beginning to end, to see what was next, to see what Sanders got out of all these girls.

Insanity, I tell you!

How does one person shoot so many people and get them so in their own skin over and over??

It's terribly inspiring and I fucking need it.

Double Exposures: Essays in Portriature by Sanders McNew

And I'm absolutely terrified that I don't belong in this collection, yet there I am. The above photo you can find littering one of the pages of this killer book.

eeeeek!

Homeless

2009-07-28T00:57:00.000-07:00

As of tomorrow I am sorrrtaaa kindaaaa homeless.
I mean, I always have my grandmother's and that IS where I hauled all my shit today.
Three car loads and a cargo van full.
Mostly all by myself.
And while this partly extremely frustrating.. It's also very empowering.
I packed, carried, lifted, struggled, sweat (a LOT)
Over and over and over and over
up stairs and down stairs and up and down and up and down..
I had help with the dressers and desk.
And by the end of it, I am exhausted.
And free.
I am fucking free.
Free free free FUCKING FREE!!

I have no home, no money, my car is falling apart, my computer is not far behind, my baby kitty Pan disappeared ( ;( ), I chopped my hair, I got rid of half my shit(uhm, again..), I have no reliable friends, zero love interest, no sex drive, no plan, no fucking obligation or expectation!

So fuck you, too!

And I love you. :)

(but not you... and sorta you... definitely not you... maybe you... but you, you, you and you? yes.)

What?

stfu.

Random Facts 1-5

2009-07-10T11:28:00.000-07:00

1. I believe in love at first sight, yet I'm jaded as fuck
2. I shower with the lights off
3. I have a traveling bug that is insatiable
4. I drive without music all the time, and I think my lack of music is what makes me more fucked up and sad
5. I make great breakfasts, which is my favorite meal of the day

Sand Filled Wings

2009-07-08T20:38:00.000-07:00

"Ask and you shall receive."

Well, I've been doing a lot of asking for strength and help. To better myself, to put myself on the right track, to know the way, to find happiness.

Or at least peace of mind.

I have the ever present ticking itch to travel, to move, to run away, to find what I'm looking for (whatever that might be). Purpose, I want purpose. Life is too short to be sitting around on my hands waiting for something to happen. There has to be a reason I was born with this traveling bug, a reason why I love taking pictures and I love beauty, new places, interesting and fucked up people and environments.

Please, life, give me purpose...
Don't let me stay useless, dead, and half buried by my surroundings.

Step one: Drink less, save more.

Princess Weekend

2009-06-26T13:20:00.000-07:00

My Mother always declared, "It's my Birthday week... You have to be super nice to me two days before and two days after!" I quite like this theory, and I stick by it. Like Mother like Daughter. (Scary!) So, it is two days before my birthday. Tonight, I work at Half Penny, a "hole in the wall" Irish style bar in down town Syracuse. Which I like working at a lot... Lots of interesting people. Mostly punks, goths, bikers and other degenerates. Perfect.

Unfortunately, I fear this birthday. I fear no one showing up- some solid decloration that I've gone so nuts that no one wants to celebrate with me. Scaring people away and burning bridges comes fairly naturally to me.. and while I love to declare I Don't Care, I really do, and it's quite annoying, actually.

But Holly and Rachael and Pete will be there. They are my best friends, and I cannot have a bad time with any of them, let alone all together!

Quality over Quantity, Meagan. Plow ahead!

Good BYYYE twenty-two. I like odd numbers better, anyway.

Men.

2009-06-12T00:19:00.001-07:00

I've been prying myself from days in my bed and alternately denying myself sleep or food just to feel more alive (or, in fact, punishment), writing in my journal all night as if one day someone may read it and find it interesting (where does getting wasted fit in?). Or, better yet, that I may look back and feel my life amounted to something, that my suffering wasn't in vain(ity?). Goodness in truth. Art fag. And, currently, all I feel is utter loneliness, that I try hard to cover up (maybe.), hoping that my smile might attract some sane faces. Or perhaps everyone can smell the Crazy Bitch on me; can sense with some tendril of Knowledge that I am, indeed, one of the most self destructive people you will ever meet. Consumed. If I love you, I hate you, and nothing's ever good enough, particularly me- me, so full of faults and anger and conviction. Stumbling conviction. Solid anger. A Mess. The never ending flow of faults, faults, faults. So much chaos and confusion that all I want to do is rage and destroy - before, in fact... You do; Whoever. I will hurt you first, I will leave you first, I will show you with false pride the chink in my armor, the battle wounds, my Achilles' heel and God knows I'll show you my heart on my sleeve (even if you're so dizzy from my spinning circles); forever gushing gore. Spitting in the face of Man. Oh, Man, who I adore and search after for too much approval. Never enough. Here! Eat my sin and know insanity. Prove to me (again!) that you are not strong enough to yield me while I craze about with poison and daggers and hate. Fuck you, you 'men'. Your drool and your talk and your indecisive. Fuck you for not buying me dinner, not holding my hand or showing me strength. Fuck you for being little boys, for having no manners or worse - no sensitivity for the annoyingly delicate female emotional stability. Fuck you for telling me obsessed is some sort of a weakness, as if there's not (some?) greatness in one who will never back down, give up or turn their back. Fuck you and your useless penis, gangly stumbling hands and wandering eye.

Beautiful (stupid!) Man..

Fuck you for torturing me in my own masochism. For all I can do is adore you for causing me so much pain.

(Blog n. : Satisfaction in exploitation.)

A Gypsy Life

2009-06-10T13:00:00.000-07:00

the Wren
June 10 - July 7
The wren Celtic animal sign is associated with freshness, and opening to new insights, and sunnier dispositions. They are natural care givers and will sign sweet melodies to cheer their friends and family. They remain calm in the midst of stormy weather. You want to have these people with you if you find yourself in a crisis; they are resourceful and stay cool under pressure. Wrens are self-motivated (they know how to get what they want) and work best in solo situations. They are also have a high sense of responsibility and moral integrity. They seek balance in their lives by being leaders at work on in the community, but secretly they would rather be traveling abroad living a life of a gypsy (this however, is often against their better judgment).
(whats-your-sign.com)

I will not make that mistake. I live a fucking gypsy life.

I See Evil

2009-05-14T10:03:00.000-07:00

I see evil in me.

All my life I've been the "Evil Twin" and it has a just place as a title for me. There is anger in me that is on constant simmer, waiting for a spark of more heat to fuel a raging destructive path. I daydream about torturing girls that tick against said bomb and have flash fantasies of doing generally destructive and hurtful things. I snap at the smallest annoyance - although I only do this to people who are closest to me (mostly boy-friends). Biting my tongue is something I've tried to learn, but it's so hard! My brain to mouth function lacks grace and has been the downfall of all my relationships with everyone. I see red. I shake with fury.

I'm glad I'm a woman.

However, somehow, I'm told I'm sweet. I'm kind. I'm a good person.

Sometimes I wonder if my kindness is only my inner Beast plotting an easier way of living. I can't decide if I care too much or too little. I am conscious of everything I do. How I look and act, my meanness and my sweetness. Conscious chaos. Conscious disaster. Reckless calculating.

I see Evil in me.

Melody

2009-04-23T09:24:00.000-07:00

Almost every frame I took of this set is great. We finally were on the same page, I saw it on her face when I got excited how it encouraged her to keep going. I haven't let her open up to me photographically.. I guess because I expect it not to be an issue. It made me feel really really good when she told me that she loves the pictures, that she feels like these are pictures that show her personality, who she is.

Great success!

Yay.

2009-04-08T20:57:00.001-07:00

I love Women, I love NYC

2009-04-06T08:07:00.000-07:00

Two things that rarely fail to push me to be inspired: Beautiful women and NYC. And together? Shit, fahgetaboutit. I love the small curves of women; in their neck, fingers, mouth. I find myself blatantly and shamelessly staring at pretty girls, admiring and holding their image in my mind, figuring out an angle, slowly piecing together a photo that slips together bit by bit. It's fascinating and I love it.

There's this girl I met (from Model Mayhem), who I hung out with and talked to for many many hours; over coffee, lunch, drinks. Which meant I was free to look at her as much as I wanted, excused in the expectation of intimate watching as we exchanged stories after stories (as girls will do). It really was so terribly nice, watching her expressions, her moments of intense talking and then peaceful calmness. She'd get this look in her eyes while holding mine, her mouth set and she'd let whatever small tragedy she was sharing with me pass - as if to say, "shit happens". And, of course, burst out in passionate oppinionated and very expressive banter about god knows what.

And suddenly I understand the idea of Muse.

But that thought, of shamelessly observing, that to me is wonderful. How often is a person allowed to actively admire a gorgeous person face to face? Women, indeed, are meant to be admired for their beauty. Somehow because I have a passion for my cameras, and I am female as well, this makes it okay, right? Or maybe it's my shameless adoration for charming girls. Which, by the way, I know a few. Lucky meee!

So. My miserable winter depression is breaking, New York let me fall in love with life again, and the six beautiful girls I got to share company with made me hopefull that I am not an untallented photographer. I got my closure with an ex, I got to kiss a pretty girl, I was free and had fun, I got naked in a park, I came home and was taken on a date and got to kiss him, too.

I'm BACK!

by Marko Cecic-Karuzic

Change in the Air

2009-03-04T11:11:00.000-08:00

I haven't been shooting.

I have, however, made my sixth move in the last four years, finally out of that hell hole armpit of New York state: Utica. My uhaul brought me only an hour away, to Syracuse, but it's new, and it's not Utica. I can't stress that enough. Perhaps what finally got me out was being evicted.. or perhaps it was the promise I made to a friend to get out of that shit hole by March in exchange for this beautiful camera. A strange promise, and surely wholy for my benifit; kindness from a stranger. Well, near stranger. Months ago, when this 'promise' was made, it was put in my head that March was some sort of catilis. The idea snuck in my head that if I didn't get out, I didn't deserve this camera, which I grew to love - thus not deserving to be any sort of recognizable photographer or maybe even an ambitious person, period.

Sometimes I think all you need to do is hold a want in your mind strong enough, and the world will yeild if your desire is strong enough. I didn't know how I was going to get out. Thank-you Melody for visiting for a week and partying with me enough to piss off my landlord. Thankyou Vinnie, my landlord, for not putting up with my careless bullshit, even if it really pissed me off.

Thankyou Sanders McNew, for the selfless push to someone you barely know. I am in your dept.

On a different thought.. My last move a little over a year ago, I left half of my belongings behind in the frenzy. This time, I did also. I have no furnerature. I have a bedroom full of simple pleasures: bed, tv, movies, books, decorations and photos to keep me reminded of the things I love. I have a small storage space with my dresser, my sisters dresser, bags of clothes and six boxes of photo shit. I've put all of my negatives away - I'm done with all of that for now, I hate most all of it. Time to move forward.

New city, new people, new apartment, new neighborhood, restraunts, bars, stores, grocery store, routine, YAY!

My Work Is Shit

2009-01-29T07:25:00.000-08:00

I hate it all.

Well my "recent" shit, because that's what it is- shit. Though in all fairness I haven't been shooting much, and the winter depresses me. But I was so determined to shoot in the snow, the beautiful upstate New York winter. But I can't do it, apparently. I'm stuck in my apartment, stuck in misery. Like every winter. Spring is my savior. February is the bane of my existence.

So I'm gathering all my polaroids and putting them in order. They go something of the order of Prosper, Nate/Nell, single/Prosper, single, Jaime/Sarah, single/Holly, James and company, single/holly/etc. Or something like that. It's hard putting them in order, particularly the two years flopping back and forth with Prosper, I mean, he wore the same fucking outfits all the time. Melody's hair length and style helps, though.

anyway, along with those polaroids, and my "photography" and other snapshots I'm putting together the ultimate Utica scrapbook. My life in the last four years. I'm doing it for me. Since I was about ten I have taken pictures and gotten photo albums with the intentions of keeping them going, up to date. And never did that, so I suppose now is a good time to do that.

So much has happened.

Some Random

2009-01-22T08:47:00.000-08:00

- I had no idea that finding black nylon/polyester rope would be so difficult

- 25 feet isn't much

- Glory be to fearless and trusting friends/girls

- I started taking birth control and it's making me even MORE emotional, if that's possible. Less, though, with the anger, more with the wanting-to-cry-for-no-reason

- One can only be a daily-blog-visit sort of person if you update daily (like Chip).

- If I don't go develop these rolls soon, I'ma die.

- How many cameras do YOU see in the above photo?

Weddings

2009-01-09T00:15:00.001-08:00

I got back a bunch of stuff from Holly's wedding. The above photo is actually from her birthday, a few days before her Big Day. She never smiles with her teeth showing in pictures which drives me nuts, so this photo has a special place in my heart, seeing it's the only part of her face that you look at - and her bloody knuckles.

Shooting weddings is terrrribly hard! I learned a lot by doing her's, I just wish it wasn't my first one - that and once again I am terribly reminded that I need a digital.

This was the first time I used my new Olympus, but unfortunately it doesn't work as well as the other one I had. Must be slightly different? I don't know. Maybe the other one was just magical. I think I'll stick with shooting high speed black and white with it, anyway.

I'm just dying with the itch to photograph someone properly. I've been adding girls on myspace around the Utica area, anyone who looks decent. I don't care, I just want to shoot SOMEONE, which apparently is very difficult up here. I'm glad I didn't take advantage of my time in the city when I was able to go down all the time, though I do miss all the beautiful girls willing to hop infront of my lense!

End of the Year

2008-12-31T06:51:00.000-08:00

by ellen von unworth

So I'm gonna go right ahead and say in the next year I'm incorporating BDSM and kink into most, if not all, of my photography. I'll just skip the pretense that I'm not, like, one of the more perverted girls around. Sex, fetish, bondage for everyone!

Any first takers?

Besides all that, today is the last day of 2008 and I'm pretty sure I'm ready for a new year. This past one hasn't been that bad, I've learned a lot, grown a lot, traveled a lot. I've taken a lot of pictures and met a lot of really great people.

Last year at this time I was chasing after dick and living in a shit hole. I was getting my apartment broken into and dealing with a slumlord. I wasn't speaking to my family and I was friendless, loveless and mopey.

Today I think I'm poorer, and I have no idea where I'll be living in the next couple of weeks, but I have a couple great friends, a fun job, a loving family, a heart full of hope and a holster of cameras.

I am on the prowl.

by cellina von mannstein

Extreme

2008-12-27T14:48:00.001-08:00

Meagan --

[adjective]:

Extremely extreme!

'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Sometimes I feel like my wings are tightly bound, others; stretched and ready to fly, and once and a while all I feel is the weightless soaring...

James Spader

2008-12-26T15:53:00.000-08:00

I love you.

"Men learn to love the person that they're attracted to, and women become more and morre attracted to the person they love"

-James Spader's character "Graham" in Sex Lies and Videotape

You are Mine

2008-12-12T17:19:00.000-08:00

Everyone has their obsession
Consuming thoughts, consuming time
They hold high their prized posession
That defines the meaning of their lives

You are mine
You are mine
You are mine, oh mine
You are mine

There are objects of affection
That can mesmerize the soul
There is always one addiction
That just cannot be controlled

You are mine
You are mine
You are mine, oh mine
You are mine

Everyone has their obsession
Consuming thoughts, consuming time
They hold high their prized posession
They hold high their prized posession

song by Mute Math
photo by Anthony Garito

Finally, Olympus

2008-12-08T16:44:00.000-08:00

Finally! I got my olympus stylus epic in the mail. $40 off of ebay and even came with the case - practically brand fucking new.

And while I adore the cameras that have been given to me by family and close friends, this.. this is the first camera that I bought... well, besides the dozens of polaroids and such, most of which don't work but that I've just collected since I was little to look pretty.

Finally, I shot something today. Finally I have my little camera.

But being evicted is not something to look forward to, especially to kick off the new year and, oh, by the way, Merry Fucking Christmas, Meagan. Christ.

Where do I go? What do I do? Move to Syracuse with Holly, Chicago with Melody, New York City filled with people to photograph, Pittsburgh? Back pack Europe? South America?

How does one pick up and move with a month notice?

Above is a shot of Melody, intended to be a head shot for her book.. I don't know if I have anything she'll put in it, but the more I look at this one, the happier I am with it. Thanks, Mell, for letting me have it, even if you weren't very happy with me.

There are two people I can always rely on, Mell is one.

King of the Trailer Park

2008-12-04T00:12:00.000-08:00

Here's a shot from a while ago, when this foxy thing brought me on a hike. King of the Trailer Park.

I'm hunkering down tomorrow to develop and scan, and am fairly fucking stoked to see what I have. It's hard to shoot up here and hard to find people to shoot, but I try to make do with what I have. I've realized that I have a lot of rolls from months ago that I developed but never scanned - there was a moment there where all I was doing was shooting; mostly with the Olympus Frank gave me before I dropped it one too many times.

Which reminds me: I bought another one on ebay(!). It'll be here in a couple days and I couldn't be more excited. Hopefully it works and is actually the one I think it is. (insert thrilled squeal)

Oh. And I have to move in a month. Suggestions? I need to get the fuck out of upstate New York.

NewwwYork!

2008-11-12T15:51:00.000-08:00

Driving into the city never ceases to be exciting. Always astounded at how big it is, how far the huge buildings and lights and cars and people stretch on forever.

My sister is visiting and we're packing her visit stuffed full of fun fun fun!

Above is Sarah, who we hung out with lastnight, which was also fantastic. The picture is from New Years.

weeeeee

Samhain

2008-11-02T00:19:00.000-07:00

I was not a cat or a zombie Sarah Palin. I was a gypsie... again. An excuse to walk around with my stomach out and my coin belt and huge hippy skirt. Me and two foxy ladies roamed about looking for adventure but unfortunately didn't come by much of anything, ended at a bar where I proceeded to get housed properly on long island iced teas, woke up confused and that's always pretty telling. But I had a fabulous relaxing day and Holly and I made our Saturday dinner (she's amaazing in the kitchen!), watched a couple movies.

Today is the Celtic pagan holliday Samhain, which is what Halloween is based off of (that an other similar pagan holidays like the Day of the Dead). I always think a lot about my father and what he'd be doing at my age. Every year I'm closer to being the age he was when he died, a mere 26. Along with Samhain being the day dedicated to the last harvest, the end of summer, past loved ones and spirits and Gods being more accessible, it is also the New Year.

I've thought about past loves and futur loves, I had champagne and wondered if it was really possible to talk to the dead, and come to the conclusion that if Jesus can turn water to wine, then surely there are fairies. I threw away his toothbrush and picked my camera back up, too long it's been without it's Master's touch.

I feel like snuggling in for the winter, dreading it yet loving it. My hybernation is coming, someone yell at me, please, if you notice me not shooting.

Halloween!!

2008-10-31T11:11:00.000-07:00

God dammit, I love Halloween! My favorite day of the year, hands down.

I can't decide whether to be a Cat or Zombie Palin.

Fuck this shit I need to go get myself a disposable camera for tonight, yes pleaaase.

Ni-ni-niiiiples!

2008-10-30T07:55:00.001-07:00

I got my nipples pierced the other day... for free by my friend Andrea who is apprenticing. No one else she knows will let her practice on them because they're all babies. Well, nipples fucking hurt to pierce, if you're wondering. But I loves them, they came out great. I almost backed out but Andrea didn't let me. Good girrrl.

Above is my sister, again, from the same night as the other one in a past entry. Melody will be visiting me soon, which is so exciting for multiple reasons but it means I get a model to shoot! Shooting Melody is like a freebee, or cheating or something, I always get good photos out of her, or maybe I'm biased, or maybe both. I have some 35mm that I know are good, too, but have to wait to scan them. Which, by the way, I'm working something out with my school: I'll model for a class if I can use the sanner, labs, develop... I win!

Ohhh and my main proffessor sent off three of my photos to a state-wide college photo contest in Albany, and they all got in.. we'll be hearing soon about results.

My internet's being a cock sucker or I'd post those pictures, too. Of course, they're of Jessalyn and Cris Ashley. Duhh

Kathryn

2008-10-11T09:20:00.000-07:00

This girl, that one, in the middle of the boys, her name is Kathryn. She is a mess. A beautiful dramatic mess. I love photographing her. She hates me, I love her.

These four, they all have such stories. They are that Type, the type who all grew up in the area, bouncing from people to people, group to group, growing up in the same swirl. It's interesting to bombard them with with cameras and my own dramatics to add to the dynamic. Grab some photos, and peace out.

Next!

Except for Her. I want more.

pushing through

2008-10-10T16:32:00.000-07:00

Sitting here, my heart filled with pitiful pains and sorrows as if I were sixteen. The same helplessness, the same indecision. I often feel like I'll be stuck in this spot forever, constantly trying to run away from it. I try so hard not to just lay down in my bed and forget the world.

I have a pile of things to do, and no drive to do it.

But at least I have this photo of Melody, a moment of joy pushing through her own sorrows.