Stumped

The last couple of weeks have been a haze of days running into eachother. I have so much to do, so much I want to do, but am lacking inspiration. I feel trapped. Useless. The eye of the storm, calm around a fury of emotions and thoughts and desires. So often lately I feel this way, and I thought with age this immature spurts of depression and hiding from the world would go away. For the first time, I feel caught between girl and woman, entering that time when I have to leave my careless days behind me, buckle down and put my nose to the grindstone. But it's hard, without inspiration.. Drifting, waiting...

But forcing myself out of bed early to get things done; mentally challenging myself, cleaning, reading, writing, planning photo things.. Is a good thing. Recoop, I guess.

What exactly is it that makes a person decide to do things that aren't in her best interest? This boggles my mind a bit.

And it's not like my life is so bad. I know this. But I am selfish and I want more. More from myself and my life. Which should be cherrished and not wasted and I should use what I have to make myself the best I can. End of story.

Get yerself together, Meg.

Eleni

I had this friend, Eleni. She was Lebanese and Greek with long black hair. She was beautiful and always smiling and rolled her cigarettes and talked about living "off the grid". She loved whiskey and Ithica. She went to massage therepy school before I knew her and once gave me a massage, putting me half asleep. In this photo, we drove out to a park that she knew of. It was the end of winter or the beginning of spring and just warm enough to not be cold and just cold enough to still have snow. She was hung over and self consious. I had fun shooting her and she was a great sport. Afterwards, we went to a hick bar and drank scotch and played pool and messed with the locals. I was 18, she was 20.



Crazy how a few years can feel like so long ago. This picture was from another night, though no less fun. Eleni now has a baby. Nuff said.

I've quit smoking. There's this torture that I realized about the withdrawal from cigarettes that I can deal with and even enjoy. It's the same pit in my chest that I felt when I missed James so much when I was in Utica. I have an addictive personality.

Rolls of film are starting to build up. All I need is developer to develop my own film, hurray! I have vague plans of stealing some from MVCC. Wish me luck!

God I love being up until the sun comes up.

Attention!

I just found math I like!

"For films and Plates: mix 1 part of this solution with 3 parts of water. At 18-20 C/ 67-70 F in fresh fixer, fix films and plates for 2-4 minutes with these exceptions: fix Kodak Panatomic-X filmsfor 1-2 minutes;fix Kodak Tri-X Pan Professional Films for 5-10 minutes. Discard the fixing bath when the time to clear exceeds one-half the total fixing time. Under normal conditions, if an acid stop bath such as Kodak indicator stop bath is used between development and fixation, this diluted bath will fix about 120 rolls of 620 film or the equivalent per gallon."

Self Control

It is a mantra. Have self control, have self control, have self control. I will not call any of the boys. I will not smoke. I will have composure. I will not call, I will not call, I will not call...

On my list of things to do today:

-Shoot Marice (Cute eccentric boy with neat style and an affinity towards making music)
-Possibly shoot Andrea (heavily tattooed and I've shot her many times)
-Clean out my car
-Get wasted and watch that new vampire HBO series that apparently you can get for free at Blockbuster. (Thanks Mell)

What I really want to do is take my feeble $100 that I have to my name and drive out to Texas and shoot the aftermath of hurricane Ike. The other night we got hit with the left over storm. The power went out at exactly two, and I begged Holly and Jon to go outside with me to check it out. All of Syracuse was out and it was ghostly, the wind was terrifying and I was convinced that there were monsters in the shadows. I was this close to getting in my car and searching out a cool shot from some high spot. But I didn't have my tripod sooooo.... sucks cause the moon was huge, too. Anyway, I grabbed my film just in case.

I have yet to see any good photos come out of Ike, and it's killing me. I know there are tuns of dudes with cameras around there so why the fuck haven't I seen a worthy photo of the 20 thousand people still in Galveston? I've been listening to NPR and watching the news and I'm going ape shit bat CRAZY wanting to just hop in my car and go take pictures. Oh! ohoh! And the NEWS, man, the news is crazy. Who's lighting these people? TV in general makes my head hurt but I want to watch it more (I don't have cable, myself) so I can be so inspired to go out and do shit.

But instead I have to go look for a real job. Fuck. I don't want a real job. I'm pretty happy scraping by and modeling for Thriftwares and going down to NYC every once and a while and taking pictures every where I go.

I think maybe I'll look into wedding photography. Buuuuut I need a digital camera. Need. I've got my precious film cameras (minus the Olympus). I finally have a light meter (two, actually, though I haven't figured out how to use them... Thanks Jeff and Tim!!).

Aright so I just spent ten minute playing with them and I figured it out. Fucking cool. They are so cooooool... they're the old kind... with swirly dials and needles and such. Which match my old cameras so weeeelll... and I found a 50's hot pink bike on craigslist for $50 bucks and I don't care if it's really fucking stupid I WANT THAT BIKE. Hopefully she didn't sell it yet *crosses fingers*.

Aright enough of this bullshit. Time to go out and take pictures to prove that I rock and that James can kiss my happy cute ass. I'll show him! (and everyone else, too!)

Watch me prance with my nose in the air.

Too sensitive

Lately I've had serious writer's block.

Maybe it's from the pressure and judgment I feel from my ex reading something, or the way I miss posting about our fabulous life and adventures. It's sad how when you break up, your life splits in half. There are the people who will keep talking to you, and the ones who wont ever again. There are the boyfriends who will remain your friend, and the ones that wont. The ones who will be bitter, the ones who will be understanding. I wish to have one be understanding, calm, mature. To think, I've always dated men well older than me, and have found that with age there certainly is no guarantee of maturity.

I've wanted to express my joy of the last week and a half. My shoot with Chip Willis was amazing, I got to see my sister.. after which there were more adventures of a Harley ride before continuing on to Rochester to shoot with Frank Petronio where we continued to get blasted (or, I did..) and ramble about nonsense, then on to NYC where I first spent a night of tequila and tonic and limes with my super cute high-school BFF. Then, the next day I shot with HR Marshall who was a delight, followed by a date with a young republican (Weird!) who is quite adorable and showed me a City through eyes I've never seen on the wheels of a red scooter.

However, my buzz was killed like a joy ride interrupted by blue and red flashing lights. It's funny how seeing the back of someones stupid head with his stupid long girly grey hair and stupid matching button-up that fits him oh-so-well.

And another back-view of curly brown hair. Not so stupid, though...

Part of me believes that my ability to do dumb things makes me tough. Or, how he's put it, "punk rock". Yet punk rock died with strung out hospital visits and suicide. Part of me believes these irrational movements of mine are romantic and charming. But look at me, here, sitting alone, writing for the world to see. And because I stopped caring, that, too is punk rock and romantic. Stupid "punk rock" because I sat out there for hours, waiting. Romantic because I was too sensitive to go the extra step to act like a crazy bitch. I watched them go in. I watched his bedroom light go on. I wrote a letter and folded it up like I was in highschool and left it on the stoop. I thought about his crazy down-stairs neighbor picking it up and I almost hope she did, just to create an extra dynamic.

Always dramatic.

And suddenly I'm not over him. I'm crazy and pounding and terrified and aching. I am not stupid, though. I knew from the beginning. I knew from the middle, and the End.

Bury yourself in photography, Meagan. Bury yourself.

But, Still

So last week I went out to Columbus to shoot with Chip.. we'd been planning it for a while, and I decided to convince Melody to come visit me, since Columbus is more than half way to where she's staying with our grandparents in Michigan. I've missed her and we're finally able to reconnect after a long time of being in different universes. Ends up, Chip shot both of us, which was fan-fucking-tastic, and I'm elated at all of the images. Two days of driving around, shooting, laughing. We had a great time, and even our "behind the scenes" photos are great. I really love this one, it makes me feel happy and free and girly. Chip kept saying, "higher! Again!" and I was reminded of Avedon. Chip challenged me the first time we shot, and continued to do so, which is so much fun. I love working with photographers who I adore and who push me to do my best, and to work to get where they want me to be.

Once again, all outfits provided by miss Holly Ross, of Thriftwares.com. As usual.

Next is shooting with Frank Petronio tomorrow, which I'm also excited about. He's a little drama queen but that's part of the fun. I'm stoked to see his new camera, too.

After that, down to NYC for a couple of days, FINALLY! Working with yet another photographer who I really respect, though I only work with that type, anyway. Holly's putting together fucking fabulous outfits and I am really really excited about them. One includes a sequence bra top that I had to beg her to get, and damn, sure am happy she did.

Furs are also on the list, and I plan on wearing one (a different one every week, as Holly sells them, most likely) all winter long, and am totally prepared to catch a tun of flack for it. To me, furs are meant to be worn. I mean, sure it's a little fucked up to be wearing a bunch of little cute bunnies, minks, foxes, or beavers, but I don't care... they're so fucking... luxurious! I feel like a fucking rock star, yo.

Besides all that, I'm regretfully putting down my cameras after I shoot the rest of my 120 film. Sadly, the Rolleiflex that I've been borrowing from a very generous photographer, has been recalled by said owner. I almost cried when I read the email, but I could feel it approaching, I've known it was getting to that time. I mean, I've had it for a long time. But I will cherish it while I have it!

That film is the last film I have. I can't afford more, and I can't afford to get the rolls I have shot developed. So I am forced to not shoot. Instead I will start scanning old stuff that I haven't scanned, and working on trying to fanangle my way into making cd's (like I keep saying..).

I want to backpack Europe with Melody so I plan on working my ass off through the winter. Which is good, it'll keep me from being all winter depressed, which happens every year. I'm putting off finding said other jobs so that I can do things like run around naked for Chip and go play dress-up with Frank and be fabulous in NYC. Stupid, irresponsible, but fucking fun.

But through all the ups and downs and trials and tribulations and heart aches and frustrations... I still love being me. I love modeling and I love taking pictures. Somehow, modeling always makes me feel better, more alive and part of something. Being able to take a piece of my personality, a feeling or mood, and be able to have that directed by a photographer into a photo that'll say something, connects somehow, makes me feel... appreciated, exposed, liked, curious, active... useful. And I learn so much every time.

Another by Chip.

Waiting

I've almost completely moved into my new apartment. It's bigger, though I have to give up my claw foot tub. I'm about to come upon a good week, a busy week. Two modeling shoots with two favorites. I'm letting my camera down, but not out of finger's reach. Nothing's happening right now. I've asked many people to model for me, and gotten no responses. So I will wait, and take the time to let my mind sit and be bored for once. I need to fester for a second, to just simmer. Recollect and build up what ever it is that I'm building up to do.

To wait.

I know this next week will spring me into action. I am an addict to modeling, I just feel better when I'm doing it regularly. Maybe it has something to do with my overspilling emotions that are constantly haywire and my desire to expose myself, share myself, express myself.

Either that or I'm a vein self centered egotist.

One or the other for sure, though.

Change and more Change

The past reminds me of a taste or smell, always different, always the same. A photo or a place or person may trigger it. A sense of familiarity that has come and gone. Familiar in the sense that it was familiar, and that something else is familiar now. Smell or taste in a way that is almost there but not quite.

It's hard to grasp, sometimes, how different my life changes so often. A month ago I was happy in the arms of a man who loved me. Eight months ago I was terribly miserably alone and depressed. I was in school, I was in a shitty apartment, I had a strange relationship with a man, I was ostracized from my family, I had many friends, a summer of sunshine and wine and whiskey.

People come and go, things change so much.

I must move out of Utica. I must. I feel stifled here. Stuck. Uncreative.

Every time I get in my car and drive anywhere, my head starts ticking about everything going on in my life. It's meditative. Like doing laundry or the dishes or taking a shower. I think about my ex's and why they're ex's. I think about sex, about self control. About where I want to go, physically and mentally. I think about what I want to shoot next. What I'll write in my blog later.

Which has, over the years, become morre and more difficult for me to write anything meaningful. Lately also in my paper journal, which I haven't touched much since sitting in a particularly lovely kitchen in Brooklyn pining away with my pen about how perfect my relationship was, how wonderful and scary the City is. But those days have passed.

Now it's all random adventures. Lastnight I got blasted and fell down some stares. I look like I was in a car accident or my non-existant boyfriend beat the fuck out of me. Drunken Battle Wounds. Holly managed to bust her toe, and nether of us know how. Maybe it was that walk home, who knows.

Recently I'm interested in shooting normal people.. or, I should say, re-interested. I got distracted by fashion and spoiled by New York City models. So I'll continue shooting Miss Holly (featured above) while she paroozes the north-east and works her self into the ground, and hopefully more of the cute boys sauntering around the neighborhood.



I'm rusty, but I'll get there. MVCC is opened back up for their spring semester and while they don't need anyone to work there, I'm going to show my face as often as possible and pull on my Teacher Pet skills to develop my film there. And soon a friend will be handing over a scanner, which will be so fabulous I don't even know what to do with myself. I can't imagine the glory of being able to scan in my apartment.

I asked a super cute girl to model for me today. I hope she emails me cause she gives me girl crush/ photo crush goosebumps. Usually I'm nervous when I ask strangers to shoot with me, but I have to do it living in Central New York, though this time it didn't phase me at all. She just said yes, too, without even knowing what kind of photography I do.

Could you imagine if I were Chip or James or Chris Bush? Hahaaa.

Enough rambling. Sorry, no tits.

Lurkers

Frank took this months ago while I was shooting Jessalyn. He's selling prints of it which I think is pretty cool cause I get a couple bucks, too. Plus which, I like the thought of me half naked with a camera floating around in people's possesions rather than just on the internet.

Anyway, I know there are people who read my blog, yet no one comments. Am I that fucking boring? Anyone have any topic suggestions? haha

Oh, and anyone know why my little site tracker thing isn't letting me stalk who's coming here? Grrrrrr

Distraction

Today Holly and I spent the day thrifting. We're hours from home and are staying in a hotel, getting up early tomorrow and putting another day in. Her job is fun, and it's nice to tag along and rummage through stuff trying to find something that she thinks is cool enough for her store. It's hard, though, cause she's really picky. But it keeps my mind active and away from all my stresses, which is the best thing for me right now. She's great company, even though she's a female version of you-know-who.

I can never sleep before two, and I was headfirst "in the bag" lastnight and still was able (somehow) to get up at 8:30 to start our adventure. She'll be waking me up at seven tomorrow, so I was hoping to get to sleep by midnight, but obviously that's not working.

Planning my days is the easiest way to barrel through my problems, otherwise I end up sleeping and being useless. Which is, well, useless. Besides, I just love my moleskine planner.

I love traveling though! So this is fun. And her car is new - the air conditioning works and everything!

Judgments

If you think for one hot second that you understand me, you're just foolish.

Scavengers

Lately I've been pretty good about making my own food, and as cheaply as possible. I get things like american cheese singles, turkey lunch slices, eggs, salsa, canned soup, corn, potatoes, salsa. And then I create new ways to mix them all together to get something decent. Instead of a regular turkey and cheese sandwich, I fry the turkey and then put it in a grilled cheese. Today I fried some potatoes with salsa and scrambled eggs and put cheese on top. It's not so bad. As a general rule, though, I like the food I make myself over anything I can get around here. Now, when I'm in or around the City, that's a whole different world. I've never had so much good food as when I visit there. God damn, I love good food.

The internet has been boring the shit out of me lately, so I've been reading. Currently: All The Pretty Horses. It's pretty good. I started it the day before yesterday and I'm halfway through. I've got a whole stack of books I've been wanting to read, but "no time" to do it. Now I definitely have some time. I think I may try to find a job taking care of horses, no lie. I'm sick of dealing with drunk retards and power-tripping bosses. Besides, I really don't give a fuck about taking photos at the bar.. I tried to give a fuck but I just don't.

Horses on the other hand!! I know it's been done and done and done but who fucking cares. I want some pretty horse pictures of my own. ;)

The Dip

The life rollercoaster has really plunged. When life is good, it's really good. And vise versa. It's just one thing after another.

This was from 11th grade. My mouth looks funny because it's full of metal. Sometimes I wish I could go back to that life. At least my problems were simple. Psychotic family. Lack of friends or boyfriend. Bad social skills. I spent a lot of my time online and taking pictures of my friends and them taking pictures of me. I wish I could dig them up, but they're on my computer that I had then, which is now at my grandmother's. Maybe I'll take a trip out to visit her and snag it before she decides to get rid of it or give it to my mother or something, and then I loose all those, and that would suck.

Plans

Yesterday I followed Holly around to thriftstore to thriftstore. She was hunting for inventory for Thriftwares, I was along for the ride, and then became on the prowl for two things: An Olympus (like I had before, the one I took the above shot with) and an older copy of A Clockwork Orange (seeing as I inadvertently fucked up a friend's copy). I found neither, however, I did find four wicked cool polaroid cameras (What the fuck is a film disk?).

Dammit, I really miss that Olympus. I must have another one.

Oh - and I've decided with all my spare time I'd walk around aimlessly with the Rolleiflex. I've got a lot of spare days where I don't work (which I'm working on changing) and I get stir crazy. Yesterday I photographed some random guy in a parkinglot. I feel my journalistic side ticking.

I've also recently decided "Fuck New York City" but that's only because I'm scared and poor. But the up side is, is that winter will be here soon enough, and portraits against a snowy winter wonderland is a staple I must have in my portfolio. I swear to god, over hell and high water, I will force myself to shoot throughout the winter. Every year I go into hibernation, I mope, I shiver and hide under seven pounds of blankets.

Ohhh God, I hate the cold.

Lookit me, August and I'm fretting over winter. But I know this is valid because I'll be seeing snow in less than three months.

Think snow scapes, think skiing, think snow angles, think children, think sparkling icicles.

Aright, now back to warm. Think bright sunlight, think fields of sunflowers, think lazy rivers, think barefoot.

Hey, I like this game.

oh, and I'm abandoning color film for a hot second.

What doesn't Kill us...

One day I will feel proud of who I am and what I'm doing,
One day I will have mastered my strengths and weaknesses.
Until then,
What doesn't kill us,
Makes us stronger.

Only Boring people get Bored

Or so I thought until I had nothing to do since Sunday. I was supposed to work at the bar tonight but mysteriously I'm not on the schedule. I guess because drama went down at the other bar they own a few towns over, they lost their liquor license because of noise or some shit? Anyway, those bitches apparently got president over me. Pifft. I made a big dramatic stink to the manager and he laughed and so did I and then I left.

Oh well. I was stoked about working because I have had nothing to do. I'm tempted to stop by there later, but it's always a mob fest filled with douchebags down on that street on thursdays because of this huge Saranac Thursdays where the brewery opens up every week with cheep prices on Saranac beers and a band. Brings out all the young crowd. Rude. Obnoxious. Don't tip. Et cetera.

Fridays are way better. Older crowd. I love me the older crowds.

I guess I'll spend tonight like I've spent the last three nights. Editing and cleaning. I think I've lost some brain cells. If I could scan, at least I could see some new stuff. But I'm forced to go back and edit all my older work, which I need to do anyway.

But still. I'm going stir crazy.

Above is the first of many of Sam. A fully wardrobe-styled shoot with five different looks by none other than Holly Ross. Makes me feel all special.

Next: Makeup artist
Next: Hair stylist

Let me fluff my feathers as I gloat about having my own wardrobe stylist at my fingertips. Not to mention she's fucking awesome as a general rule.

Whatever. Back to... editing...

Luxury

I'm pretty sure that my favorite time of day is dawn. It's fucking amazing. The colours, the air, the quiet... I wish I were up more often at this time. And not from staying up all night, though that has it's charm, too.

However, my favorite colour is the the colour of leaves being hit by bright afternoon sun. God damn, it's glorious.

So I've decided that I'm going to start taking bubble baths every day that I'm home, and try to read every day for at least an hour. This is in moving my daily life to be more relaxing and productive. It's productive to indulge in a bit of luxury, particularly bubble baths! Ahh, love. And I have a KILLER claw-foot tub in probably one of the best bathrooms you ever did seeeee.

Later today I'm working on developing a nice pile of black and white film, which I'm stoked about. woot-woot.

Building a Scrapbook

I keep talking about this scrapbook idea (well, maybe just to James), and I wish I'd start it, already. The more I use this silly fuji finepix bullshit, the more I love it. I took it with me to the bar when a bunch of fabulous people were in there all at the same time. One of them being Nerlande, featured above. The headless shoulder is none other than Gary Breckheimer, who I just met and is right up there with Ner in the super-awesome category (though obviously she's way cooler). ;)

Had a great time in the city. Again.


I've been planning to move to Brooklyn for two years now.


Have you ever gone back to a city you haven't lived in for a while? It's like stepping into your past, seeing who you were and what you were doing. I feel nothing but ghosts from the past towns and cities I've lived in. But at one point I felt wary of each as I let go of that life and got tangled in the next. I feel that wary (or maybe weary) of Utica, but New York City makes me excited. Driving there feels like moving forward.

And I have driven into Manhattan across the George Washington bridge and snaked my way down the FDR to the Brooklyn bridge so many times now, and crossing that first bridge and watching the buildings raise to the sky, it still makes me feel light and inspired and giddy.

The city is seducing me.

(still really scary, though)

I feel like every time I move, I evolve.

Equations

This is the shot I took of Melissa almost three years ago.

Here's the one I took yesterday-



"You look like you're doing math."
-Melissa Ayala

She's a student,
And studies constantly.
She's scared of bugs,
And squeals and makes a big deal.
She never wears makeup,
And looks best that way.

We've had a long break in our friendship, but it seems like nothing's changed. That's nice. She's never modeled except for with me, but she's unafraid and trusts me. Which is fan-fucking-tastic.

You can see a few more on my flickr