Today's uplifting quote (for my vain self) came from Peter Gabak:
"Oh, it's my friend with the bow! It was Tiffany-blue thhe other day and now it's red. I love it. Very stylish, very stylish!"
We're hallway friends. He usually catches me when I'm off to the supply room or the faculty office since I always, always pass by his office. I adore him, not just because he approves of my bows, but because he just brightens my work day.
I almost set the fire alarm off because of this tiny thing. My roommates (Connie, Val, and now Tim) and I rocked this team work thing and got the toaster out before the smoke could get to the alarms.
After taking a trip with Bikey down to Southtown, I was off to North Light. Needless to say, I ended up staying in building 7 for a long while. From 4:00 pm til 1:30 am...Lotsa things happened in between. I shot Val to add with the shoot I did with Sarah on Saturday. I also shot Koehl and Ema followed by another shoot with just Ema posing as a human-statue. Then there was the follow-up still life that I just had to do for myself.
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The leaf that kept me company after Kyle and I carried the Crossroads smell back to my studio.
The ridiculously asian bag that Kyle got me. It is now my tool kit in my locker.
Me in ESP. Go figure.
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It's one of those nights when I don't like being myself.
I kinda want to rip my skin off and crawl in a closet for a day.
WARNING: Do not read if you do not want to hear a spin off of a Debbie-downer-or-Sally-McSadface-hater.
As a non-related intro...this is what I did when I waited for them to give me my after hours key for tonight/this morning:
Puts me back in high school when I would draw all over myself...mainly my arms and thighs. Passive-aggressiveness was key. I rebelled by wearing thigh highs and garters that no one saw and had x safety pins on my skirt that were too tiny to be noticed. Everything has changed now.
And what's left is just aggressiveness.
I don't really know how to begin or where to begin. My fatal mistake is this: letting people think that it's okay. Not telling people how I felt.
And now I'm on the loose with full ammunition, back firing in the forsaken name of karma.
Freshman and sophomore years were times when I most definitely made friends. Friends that are available during the fairest of days and are grounded when they're not off in space shunning you with the rest of their astronaut friends. This year, it's just the opposite. I've been losing the old and acquiring new. It feels great. Why waste time on people who can't pay fully attention to you when there are other people out there who are more than willing to listen to you when you need that extra ear to hear you out. It's almost selfish, but not in my case. I've lent both my ears and the five hundred and one ears that I do not have to people who just manage to just zone into their world and forget that you have your own to share.
Sorry I can't walk in the happy-go-lucky paths of pink roads. Sorry you feel like a wall talking to me. Sorry that you hate me as a person. Sorry that I come off bitter when really, it's plain annoyance of the impracticality of grinning at everything when you're clearly in your own little world spacing out when you actually can't see (or feel) the gravity of certain situations.
And I'm sorry that I'm not like you.
I'm done with dealing with a couple of things and I'm ready for better situations. I'm off on my own adventures and my focus is so much better since I do not have people blocking my view.
P.S. I'm fighting the Bad Mojo as we speak. I won't let her win.
It's very weird to barely have any concept of time and to not know what weekends are. That said, it's perfectly fine to assume that I've been living in building 7B. On my heels 24/7. Workaholic galore. They should just grant me a cot to stay in the studios. Anyway...outtake(ish) of the day:
The wig and the head belongs to Jess. I think that body on the right belongs to me. I'm not really sure anymore.
Just a few quick things before I decide to post:
-I hate fire alarms. It has gotten to the point that I now have a routine before I waltz out of 7B. First, I get a cup from the office and fill it with hot water. I then take my sweet time considering what tea I should have. I grab my bag while simultaneously singing "Karma Chameleon". I then strut down the stairs while balancing 10 invisible over-sized books over my head.
-If I haven't made it clear before, I'll say it again: rugged jean short shorts and tights/stockings are an eyesore. I don't care if it's the latest trend. The look is just as ugly as Ugg boots and puffed out snow boots. Also, mind the crotch, ladies. Having double the crap material by that region is just uncomfortable. Guaranteed.
-You're more than likely to fail if you can't keep up with everyone else. And you're more than likely to still fail if you look and act like everyone else.
-I love people. Some of them.
-Since when was looking like a hobo trendy? Fucking overly exaggerated failed-art-students and bastard-child-of-art students. Ugh.
-I can't stand college creepers. No, you're not allowed to be excited when the people you stalk are right by you. Stop drooling. It's socially awkward.
Hmm I'm done. Power to bitching and becoming a bigger bitch.
WELL...he is afterall the same man who rented out the gallery space, four studios, and the 3rd floor cage lounge to make a point.
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I think to have publicly stated to be talented and to have luck is a good thing. Maybe. It's debatable and almost embarrassing to discuss when it's in the photo class.
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Jack and Jill fell off the hill to catch a bigger fish Jack fell first to leave Jill And Jill never really followed after (she figured his social suicide was enough to make her find new friends).
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If I see one more girl wearing tights under rugged jean shorts, I'm going to make them shit in their pants so they can change that ugliness of double crotchery.
~
Great. I didn't need another fire alarm and to see her ugly sense of style.
Where to Hide. Where to Speak. What to Feel. How to Feel?
The answer is: cloth.
Here are a few test shots:
So I guess, blogging about my upcoming projects and my outtakes help more than blogging about my work. Afterall, I do have a separate blog for that. And to be truly honest, not all my work is on there so, um, boo to me for not selling myself, I guess. Hopefully my website will be officially running very, very soon!
Oh, and I just realized something. I can now officially admit to myself and the world that I can take cheesy high school year book photos:
Look mom, no hands.
I've been reprimanded time and time again for my lack of confidence. I admit that during critique I mention what's wrong with it first and forget to sell what I've done. It's almost like jumping the gun so people don't have to point it out. But hey, things change, don't they? So I guess next critique I'll sell my work more. Ok, thanks Biffle.
Picture a bright room illuminated by deadening fluorescent lights that bounce off the bright white sheets of paper lying on top of ink-stained illustration tables.
A: (Nudges friend on the elbow and excitedly looks in her eyes) I'm going to move to Britain to find my blond British Doctor.
J: (Stares off into space until she sees this doctor in her imagination) All I want is a sugar daddy.
A: They have websites for that.
L: (Passes by to look beyond the brown doors) I like to see people walking out in the hall. It's kind of a hobby of mine. (Hurries to the blank whiteboard) No, I don't like this 'M'. It looks like a cat...see...meow.
It's a cloudy, windy Sunday here in Rochester. Surprise, surprise. Honestly, I think it's too early for the gloom and doom of this cursed brick palace. My pacific islanderness doesn't allow me to adapt to the 18% gray sheet covering me from the sun.
Anyway, my day started at about 7:28 am when I rolled off my bed and crawled to the shower. By 7:56, I was biking to Colony to help Koehl with his environmental shoot with Charlie. Those hours breezed through as fast as the clouds moved. Still zombified at this point, I went through my space cadet transformation with my backseat-baby naps.
It wasn't until we all had coffee that my day actually started.
It was off to the Film and Animation cage to become this blond bad-ass dude from A Scanner Darkly. I love this skit buzzness.
By 3:30, I found myself shooting Kyle. Photographing Kyle. Ran out of ideas, ran out of places to shoot so I took us to the hills of the RIT dorms where we got looks and wind.
Not only are my models models, they serve as assistants as well. It's quite awesome.
You run into projectors that have a blinking light that screams "BULB.NOW.BETCH" and bike lock keys that break in half and campo coming to break wire and late nights.
But hey, you can't be awesome always. Thankfully, I've had awesome people like Alex to be with.
A photographer living in Wonderland who owns a ridiculous sweet tooth.
She writes.
She thinks.
She floats.
She sings.
She dances.
She makes leaps.
(Batteries not included)
--->http://joijoio.blogspot.com/
--->http://joiong.blogspot.com/ {school work and hired work blog}.
