Quake. Chill to the bone, your soul will crave more. Living. I’ll be present. Metamorphosing two halves, into one. But, two wholes, into one, lost souls: conformity // compromise // loss // mourning. Light. Dulling diamond— shine it, shine it, shine it. Praise. Praise. Praise. Regrets at risk.
I’ve decided to put it out there, this hurt and anger I feel towards some creative men on Instagram who upon meeting, seem very interested and eager in collaborating and going out to photograph together, but suddenly lose interest when they realize I am in a relationship. I hate feeling like I have to hide the fact I share my life with a wonderful person for the opportunity to be taken seriously in a creative effort.
One guy in particular promised to teach me how to use Lightroom when I shared I just didn’t feel the same kind of creativity with digital mediums the way I feel alive in a darkroom. I still have the texts in which he even addresses me as “baby.” I never led him on, never suggested anything more than interest in going out to photograph and feeding off of this energy. I’m tired of feeling like I have to hide my partnership to have this opportunity. I’m more disgusted that it seems I can’t have an “in” unless my dropped-panties are offered in the exchange.
More are the guys who clearly have expressed through “likes” over and over again that they like the stuff I shoot, and yet unfollow me. This isn’t a cry for followers, I’d much rather have a handful of engaged people than thousands who can’t take a real moment to appreciate what I am trying to communicate. This is a cry for creativity. This is a cry for opportunity.
I am more offended by the guys who think it’s too dangerous for me to go to some places. If they bothered to get to know me as an individual, maybe they’d learn that my history with street and graffiti artists has caused me to hop over and run-away from sticky situations more often than not. I’ve run in heels, because i’ve had to. I’ve climbed over fences and gates in dresses, because although it’s better to be in pants, sometimes you’re dressed all girly when an opportunity presents itself.
So, here it is. I am in a relationship. I love the man I’m with, we’ve experienced hardships and hurdles and have caused harm and have healed and nurtured each other. I don’t want to hide that part of me and I don’t want that part of me to hinder opportunities. I am interested in genuine relationships and experiences in learning and pushing the boundaries in storytelling through visuals. You can keep your 20+K followers, I’m not after them. They’ve just proven how little risk you take in trying something new for fear of losing them. Just don’t insult me with faux-kindness when we see each other, because i’ve learned you’re fake.
Thank you for mocking my kindness and in the end rejecting me. As a writer, rejection is common, but at least the opportunity or a moment in time is given to grant that.
I read the article in The Voice about Banksy scouting for locations to put his artwork up, and he (his rep) commented on the number of high-rises that had popped up in desired locations. There’s the obvious correlation between art, gentrification and what the areas eventually become. Him being in Red Hook raised an eyebrow. Him in East New York, surprises me. Not necessarily in a negative way— but I see it as added experimentation. Many of the people who are going to trek their way over have never even heard of it because it’s so off tourist radars. I was shocked at the number of people who made it to Red Hook. I’d be even more surprised at the ones who to go East New York and I can only hope that many of the ones who do, take a moment to observe a neglected area.
Like him or hate him, Banksy is moving around New York. I like that he isn’t just in the known and comfortable territories. I LOVE that he isn’t in Bushwick where everyone has seemed to just stay concentrated in and I respect that he’s moving the masses to places they clearly haven’t been to (and I less frequently visit). I personally have not been to East New York in maybe two years and there’s a reason to it, but it doesn’t help solve the issues the community faces. I also put some money down, that Banksy’s got to have cameras set up in all of these areas and is definitely orchestrating a future film of the freak show. New York was the perfect place for him to do what he’s doing, this summer— we made history with the number of hours long lines we were willing to wait on (not necessarily including myself here). We’ve proven we’ll go anywhere for fear of missing out.
- Focal Length
- SONY DSC-W650
Playa Negra, Costa Rica
We’ve been here for three days now and it’s quite the quiet jungle life here. No monkey yet, but beach times for days!!
I’ll confess that I haven’t been in tune with pop music for some time. The new artists and albums that get added to my collection are either because my friends hook me up or I spot them on some of my music blogs.
I’ve been roadtripping a lot this summer and therefore, I’ve also listened to the radio more this year than I have collectively in the past decade. And Justin Timberlake’s “Take Back the Night” just came on. Had I heard it before, no? Did I realize it was him, yes. Any gal my age would recognize the voice of their generation’s pop idol. But did I realize what he was saying? Not really, until the end when he triumphantly pleads to “Take Back the Night!”
To which I then got transported to the early 90’s in New York City, when “take back the night” was also said with fervor, except it was chanted by women (and supporters) around the world. Take back the night, the anti-rape— anti-sexual abuse— campaign that’s existed for as long as I was a super aware human being. Was he singing about that?
I automatically shared with my boyfriend, “take back the night” is an anti-rape campaign. He then shared that he read an article in which Timberlake was asked if he knew about it? And it seems that the man, just a couple years older than myself, had no clue. Comical.
That I expect anyone to know everything that happens in their nation, in their community or any other network, I do not. But that they be aware of something that has existed for over a decade and that affects an entire sex— I kind of do.
There’s talk of this society promoting rape culture. Ignorance of violence and efforts made to prevent it, is part of the problem. Worse yet, although the lyrics are about a nostalgic guy— they don’t help the cause at hand at all with it’s suggestive content. Anyone else notice?
Someday, you’ll bring me flowers because you’ve gotten to know me well enough to know that as much as I hate them dying, I am quite fond of the gesture. And you’ll learn that from every flower you give me, or every bouquet you carefully pick out for me, that when the flowers do eventually die, that I’ll keep one stashed between the pages of encyclopedias and dictionaries I do not flip through but keep in a dusty library to dry flowers out. Or in this media infested age, I’d snap a photo of them; upload them for the world to wonder the origins of those flowers that changed the scenery of my home. You and I will share the secret that it was you.
Someday, you’ll snap a photo of me, without my knowledge. And you’ll have caught a glimpse of me in a manner that no one else in the world could ever possibly imagine but you. And you won’t write a thing (or maybe you will), you’ll just put it out there for the world to see and they’ll see through your eyes something close to what it was you captured. I’ll look at it and know, because it’ll be a secret only we two could ever understand. But you’re going to be as compelled as I am, to showcase me to the world. Parts of me, because you’ll selfishly retain other parts for yourself, and I’ll be okay with that too.
Someday, you and I will wake up and lie in bed for hours staring at the miniscule details of our faces and really understand the parts that make us these beings in bed in that moment. We won’t say a word, because it’d be unnecessary. We’ll roll out of bed, collecting coffee mugs and Sunday Times and climb back under the covers while we catch up with a world outside our home.
Someday, you’re going to know me better than I know myself and vice versa, and we’re going to drive each other so mad and snicker like fifth graders. In a moment of frustration, I’ll pause and really appreciate that I get to spend my life with someone who is willing to stay by my side even after I show him all the parts I think are the worst of myself. I’m going to let you win an argument too, because I’ll have learned with you that compromising is okay and I shouldn’t be afraid of it.
Deadmau5 x Imogen Heap, Telemiscommunications
I’m still trying to sort out how I feel about this. But I’ll add: I miss listening to Imogen Heap (call me a hipster why don’t you!).
There existed 4 other items… then only the last remained.
5. Insanity isn’t classy.
Some day, soon, one of my love stories will end up here.