NYC

I just got back from the City. After being around so many people and huge buildings with small apartments, it's strange being back in Utica. I was worried about my cats, but they're fine (and cute as ever).

I really loved this trip. I peed on the sidewalk and took my clothes off in a bathroom to do a random shoot with Christopher Bush. Smoked a lot, drank a lot, shot a lot, talked a lot, slept a little. James Graham and I did magic, of course. He shot me last night, as well as the night before that, since I "missed" my train and came home today, instead (I don't think my boss was too thrilled). I drank six lattes, made ganga brownies, had amazing wings, amazing pizza, and the best omlet ever ever ever.

I am inspired.

Fuck.

Dude this self portrait thing is hard.
And Photoshop can eat me.
(I think it already has)


ps- I know the photo on the right is lopsided. I fixed it but I'm not reposting it. Yes, that's how lazy I feel after working on this fucking thing for four hours. ;)

I feel

So full. Full of emotion or thought or whatever.

So full that I feel the only way to get it out is by running till I drop, fucking till I pass out, screaming, sweating, crying, bleeding. Sleeping, reading, writing. Cleaning, looking through magazines, knitting, watching movie after movie, driving for forever. Get a new piercing, tattoo.

A new photo.


I'm tired of looking a pretty things.
Pretty people
with pretty clothes
and pretty expressions.


Where's my tripod?

Alright.. so... whatever

I think in the last few weeks I've been labeled "bi polar", "personality disorder" or some similar counterpart way more than I thought I would. I was even called "angsty artist" by a professor. ARTIST?! sweet.

But I will continue my inter mantra of : You are not creative. You are not Artistic. You are nothing specail. You have no idea what's going on. You know nothing.


I've been putting off going to get that book, only because I know all the stores are swamped my silly Christmas shoppers. You know, the drunk dads and the moms who will upturn other's strollers with their superior Gucci double wide with matching diaper bag, sunglasses, with another child tied to a matching Gucci leash.

I want a Gucci leash.

Anyway.. the last two Christmases I worked at the mall, and let me tell you, the average mom shopping for gifts is pretty much the bain of my existence. Or perhaps their rude haughty behavior triggers my anger disorders, encouraging fantasies of throwing something breakable at their heads. Though being cold and rude back really gets them in a tizzy. They're so used to passive aggressive underhanded comments and snide looks towards their miserable drunk husbands, spoiled kids and lesser social disfuntionaries that when some young thing working minimum wage dishes it back they short circuit.

Thank God I am not dealing with them anymore.

Though now I get to deal with drunk young idiots who want everything cheaper, more liquore, some sort of a deal, no tipping. How do I get myself wrapped up in this?

I've decided I'd rather be a secretary.


By the way, no one's getting presents from me. Fuck Christmas. Happy birthday Jesus.

Four AM Inspiration Kick

Well it started at the beginning of the night at some point. When I got home I decided to look through a fat magazing I didn't think I'd searched through yet. Apparently I did, because there were already pages ripped from it, though I ripped a lot more out. There's this article about Djuna Barnes, and I am now dying to get her book [i]Nightwood[/i]. Her photo attracted me, of course, as that's what's always grabbing and leading my attention. I figure if there's good photos, and writing, the words must be good, too. I fear that I am the last to hear about this woman, or perhaps I fear to not be. Maybe my expectations are high. We'll see.

I went out to a club - I mean bar - with my friend Andrea and a few other people. Because of it, I have semi-planned shoots with three people, all with really solid ideas. Sometimes I'll just see an image that just grows when I meet a person, or see them in different light or atmosphere. Those always turn out the best.

I was talking to this girl Jess who I've known for years and I keep telling her I want to photograph her, but never calling her to make official plans. I told her I love the process of shooting with someone I barely know, and developing a relationship over a few different shoots. And then I realized how true it is, and I never do it. I've been mostly all talk. I'm starting to think that my main professor, Jerome, is right. Maybe I'm actually talented.

I'm going back to school next semester, signed up for the classes yesterday. Jerome gave me incompletes for PhotoJournalism and Studio (table top), so I have until the end of next semester to finish these classes, which is awesome. I'm good at both (Studio, surprisingly..) and like everything else I could be good at - I just have to go do it. The other classes I've signed up for are Seminar (to take in your last semester, polishing up your portfolio and pretty much shooting whatever you want), Topics (digital Studio fashion), Digital 2 (Digital location fashion), History of Photo 2, and Science of Light 2 (tells you WHY your eyes/lens does/sees the things it does). I may not end up taking one or two of these classes, as it may be too much, but I want them all. I'm pretty gun-ho on doing this semester right.

Fuck Modeling. Both are fun, and I hope to do both, but I have to put my energies where they're best used. Maybe Model Mayhem will be useful after all. ;)

So I guess all is not at a loss here in Utica, NY.

Cafe, NYC, etc

Went down to NYC for a night with Frank. Met Nerlande, and she's just as awesome as I expected. Frank and I didn't end up shooting very much, mostly hanging out, which was cool, but I would have liked to get some more shots in than we did. Oh well, there's always next time.

It was the most depressing trip to NY I've ever made, mostly because my sister Melody was so close and I couldn't go see her because we aren't talking.

The place Frank and I stayed at was right next to the Church of Scientology. Suddenly I desperately want to know more about it. You know, because walking by several times, drunk and making faces at them caused a chain reaction inside of me to understand this crazy thing called Scientology. It's my obsession with anything religious or occult. It's totally facinating and I totally believe in ali-ums.

May I just mention again that my cats are pretty much the best things ever. Obsessed with them as well. I'm obsessed with a lot of things.

Saw the Golden Compass. I loved it, of course. I love anything fantasy, magical, childish, fantastic, etc etc.

This photo is of two girls at this hippy fest I try to attend every year. So far I've gone twice. It's called Drum-n-splash and it's where all these hippy types get together and drum all day and all night. Day time is when you take drumming or dancing classes, and then at night use those learned skills at either of the two big bonfires and everyone acts tribal and no one is judgmental. It's wicked fun. And the "splash" part comes in because of a stream/water hole where said hippies get naked. Actually there's generally a lot of nakedness. I'm shy though, so I don't get naked.

Anyway, it's a super bad scan of the shitty print, not the good print, so forgive me my lazines. This photo and two others got put up in a cafe in a small town right outside of Utica. I priced them really ridiculously like $93.17 which, clearly, I think is hillarious.

Frank

I took this of Photographer Frank Petronio over the last spring, the first time he shot me. I came out to shoot with him today and I'm pretty excited to have new photos by him. We did the whole Hotel thing, which I'm new at so I'm down (like syndrome?). Can't wait to see them, and on top of that, this shoot has gotten me rekinddled to go and shoot with more photographers. I'm so picky, though, I only want cool and talented people to shoot me, which I think is just dandy.

I have a job interview at a cafe tomorrow... or, not really an interview, I already have the job through a friend, I just have to meet the owners. I have to start making mad loot so I can travel and prove to these dumbass photographers that I'm worth shooting.

Frank compared moving as a model on your own to a dance. Click, change.. click, change. I could do this forever, and doesn't it make me feel pretentious? Is it so silly to want to be part of it. "It". Sometimes I think I should just hang up the Model Meagan and go to school for something practical, but I can't think of anything I'd rather do. Cultural anthropology? Riligious studies? Fuck, I think I can impact someone through photography, but I guess it just comes down to what makes me happy. Besides, that's what Mommy always taught me, find a job that you're happy doing. I'm retarded happy modeling.

Miss Bohling

This photo is by Jaime Bohling, about three years ago. My first year in college and one of my suitmates at the dorm happened to be an awesome photography major. She is still one of my favorites, though rarely shoots anymore, which is sad. It was really cold this day, and we had a bus full of kids pass by, haha. She's really great though, I love her style.

Anyway, It's been brought to my attention of what a bitch I come across as. Instead of looking at me like I'm a terrible person, does anyone wonder maybe I have a lot of shit going on? Sure I shouldn't take it out on people, but I don't mean to, anyway. Oh well, I chalk it up to growing up, though not lightly.

It also surprises me to find the difference of people who look at photography and modeling. Or better, they way people look at them. I don't think many people understand that to get a great image, you have to have a talented photographer and a talented model who share an idea or concept. I've never failed to walk away with awesome images when those things are in place.

It also makes me so sad when I never get my images. I put my heart and soul into modeling, I love it more than anything. To think that a photographer would just take that away from me after I already gave him/her my passion, time, talent, whatever... it's heartbreaking and angering. I feel cheated. I hate cheaters.

Andrea

This is Andrea.

I took this last spring, I think. I remember all the preparation it took. I seem to also remember leaves, so maybe it was spring. A year ago. I had to coordinate a piercer to throw hooks in her arms and back, borrow a camera from a friend, find a time when I could use another friend's apartment because he had this sweet tub with the oval curtain rod where I could string Andrea up.

Lastnight, I had a long talk with her at two am. Somewhere down the line I forgot that while she has a passive, dry and sometimes cold acting outer personality, she's such a good and caring friend. It comes down to all the chaos in my life right now, she brought to my attention some things I needed to hear. Truth hurts and all that shit.


Tonight is the biggest night for clubs and bars. Everyone's home for Thanksgiving and ready to not be home, to go get blasted with their home-town buddies and sleep till noon and eat themselves to sleep.

I, however, am the only one at the bar who doesn't have an actual shift. I get to go to Herkimer (a small town outside of Utica, it takes me a half hour to drive there from my house on the other side of Utica. There are two Holly rocks, one there and one in Utica. Utica is bigger, so that's where you want to be. Obviously) and be backup for a girl... IF she needs me, if she doesn't, I go back to Utica and do what I want. Which probably means getting cranked myself.

Though I've decided to use today for a photo Journalism project, six picture spread. You know, for the class I haven't attended in over a month. But I'm still enrolled so I figure I'll do some projects and hand them in, see how it goes over. Besides, it gets me out wiht my camera, and that's good.


Good luck to all ya'll. Happy Gettin Fucked Up Day.

Goodbye Again, Prosper

This is Prosper.

I took this last winter, I think. I remember it was for a "window light portrait" assignment and there was snow. It's the only time I could get him to pose for me.

It's funny how people act in front of the camera. So many people freeze up and don't act themselves until you shove the lens in their face a few dozen times.

He looks exposed, doesn't he? A deer. Some part of him wanting to be remembered a certain way. All this does for me is remind me of all the shit and arguments we went through, doesn't make me remember the good times. That hard line of his mouth just screams "I am Someone" but his eyes look vulnerable. To me, at least. Maybe it's just because I know him.

Three years of knowing him and nothing has changed. Same questions, same comments, same arguments, same jokes.

Some people don't know what friendship means.

It's a confusing thing, knowing someone.

Day of Sleeping

I've been sleeping all day.
I dyed my hair brown and red. It just looks dark, with a tint of burgandy at the ends and the blue showing through a bit here and there. It was supposed to be dark orange tips. Guess I shouldn't have fucked with my hair and left it blue. Oh well, I didn't want roots anymore. I'm sure I'll change my mind about my hair in a month, anyway.

Thanksgiving is coming up, who wants to invite me to dinner? haha


The above photo was done by Reno ( http://www.iamashooter.com/ ) somewhere in Brooklyn. It's my favorite photo of Melody and I, though not many people have taken up the chance to shoot us. I wish more would.


blah blah blah


"before you know it, it's four am and you're drunk."

mylife.

Change

James' photos of me are the only ones who make me think a real "fuck you". Like suddenly because I'm naked, I have more to work with, and with that sort of baring skin, may as well bare something else too. Hell, if I can't get people to listen with my clothes on, maybe I'll try it with my clothes off. I guess a big part of why I think it's a "fuck you" is because I actually want to pursue modeling, and I've been led to believe that if you do art noods then yer jest effing fecked for "real" shit. Well guess what, I'll do it all and I'll do it proud.

Here are my tits. Or one of them, as the case may be. God forbid.

So, in my lashing out to find some definition for myself, to change my life drasticly, I think I'll start by dying my hair back normal and taking out my lip rings. Instead of shoving how I feel in people's faces, I'll keep to myself. More listening, less talking.

Ahh, growing up is a pain in my ass.


Who am I kidding.. I just think this photo, and others here and there (that just so happen to be with my clothes off) feel more me, to me.

Someone make me stop thinking, it's starting to drive me nuts just a tad. I'm so obsessed with photos, people and words.

Post Two

I think it's becoming a normalcy for me to be obsessed with nude photos when I'm going through change. In this photo, I sit on my dirty kitchen floor which is a tag gross, but I guess that's why I like it. Puts a new spin on dirty cooch, haha.

Yeah I know, I'm not that funny... Shutthefuckup. :)



In other news...

I've just returned from work, a grueling night at the bar, hours filled with doing nothing. I turned on the Discovery channel for a while. Some guy from Paramount Pictures came in, of course I didn't know this till later. He sat down and ordered a beer, asking me if it's always this cold here. I told him it'd get a lot colder, and asked him where he was from. Los Angeles. Laughing, I asked why he was here.

"Business" he says.
Duh.
"Isn't that the only reason someone would come here from LA?" He laughed. We got to talking.

Now, within a few minutes of a man talking to me, I've got them pretty well pegged. He avoided talking about himself, asked me questions about what I was doing with my life, made great eye contact and had a pretty watch. So I laid it down real good for him. Told him my goals, dreams and plans. He ate it up, which is good. Thank god I still have charm with blue hair to strangers from LA. Not that I think this guy can actually help me out anywhere, but it's good practice. You never know. He was nice, though.


I digress.


None the less, I can't figure out how to get a little icon on my about me section, which makes me feel dumb. But I did tweek the HTML, which makes me feel un-dumb. Though it's still not quite how I want it. I wish I could know everything. haha

Post One

After looking at James Graham's blog for months, I've decided to create my own. He took this photo a few months ago. I am quite obsessed with his style.







The first bit of my life that I'll share is quite trivial. I have two cats, a boy (Pan) and a girl (Artemis). They look just alike, and are brother and sister from the same litter.

Pan is laying in my lap between my stomach and my laptop right now, purring excessively and spreading his legs for me to pet his tummy. He's the Whore kitty, but I love him for it. Artemis gives me love in the morning, when my alarm goes off, or any time I'm just waking up. They like to stalk bugs, birds outside the windows, and the water while the shower is running. They wish they were turkish vans, though pretty near have heart attacks if the water comes up and jumps at them. Pan fell in the tub earlier, it was fucking hilarious.


My sister thinks I'll be an old cat lady. I wouldn't mind.


(it is raining. I love the rain)