Ok...thank you for cudos ladies but I want you to see some before and after action. I am going to be courageous here and post a before and after of myself. If I did so with any of my models, I would probably end up in the LA County Morgue with a tag on my big toe. LOL But I want to show a sample of what I was talking about in my post below. Retouches can make a world of difference in a photo as demonstrated below. My definition of retouching takes a very long time and is an art in itself.
The unretouched before pic is on the left and the retouched after pic is on the right. You can see how I darkened shadows and slimmed the side of my cheek on the left side which is my main thing I hate in my pics other than the dark circles/bags under my eyes. I also wanted the makeup to be more prominent so I accentuated that too. You can also see the soft blur technique I use on pretty much all the pics I do as it is such an awesome technique to smooth out skin, especially for those of us who aren't 20 anymore and who might have done a little too much sunbathing and might have did a little too many substances and maybe a little too much boozin and possibly some smoking...cigarettes...not crack...cept for maybe that one time...
So there ya have it. The not so naked truth lol
That time of the month is really only bad on the first day. So when I'm feeling bloated, there is no better therapy than shoving my water retaining ass into a corset, slathering make up on with a trowel and playing with my camera. This is becoming my photography blog LOL
Shoot: October 27, 2004
Model: Self
Stylist: Self
Theme: Pin up
I don't know...there weren't any asian pinup girls were there? I'm such a poser.
Shoot: October 27, 2004
Model: Kelly
Theme: 50s Glamour
Man I love those.
The thing that is so cool about what my photography is morphing into is the artistry of it all. The idea, setting it up, make up, putting together the outfit and finding things to tie it into the set, hair, the actual photographing, the retouching and applying a "look" to the photograph. I got an email on Myspace from a photographer who was scoffing at the way I retouch, saying I am giving my models "Photoshop faces". Fuck you with your haughty attitude. Insinuating that I am cutting corners and basically suck because I am using Photoshop instead of *insert wonder of the world I don't know about here*? Oh I'm sorry. Am I supposed to leave in the dark circles, blemishes, yellow teeth, that little extra fold here or there and countless other little things us women hate about ourselves in pictures? Eat my asian ass. HELLOOOO that is what PHOTOshop was made for...taking PHOTOgraphy to the next level. If I can remove someone's most hated flaw and produce a photograph of them the way they see themselves ideally in their mind, how is that cutting corners? Does this dumbshit have any goddamn clue how painstaking and how much time goes into changing a regular picture into something dreamy and surreal? No. So fuck you. Besides I am not shooting Kate Moss with a $15,000 camera and $10,000 worth of lighting equipment so again, fuck you. (And don't even tell me those models aren't retouched before the images go to print) I am shooting real women with real flaws and removing the flaws. I ain't a goddamn magician. I have to do it somehow and sorry but you could be fucking Annie Lebowitz and not get these results without some photoshop action. Personally, I think it fucking rocks what can be done these days with computers (holy hell i just sounded so old Hey Sonny, it's amazing what these kids can do these days with computers, where's my dentures?)and when I hear the girls gushing and nearly in tears over their pics, I know I am on the right path. Besides, this is my art, I'll do it the way I want it done and if you don't like it, fuck off. Have a nice day.
This is why men will never understand women: Menstruation.
Some months it's just worse than others. My cramps are insane. I'm meloncholy. I feel like a hippo. The weather is overcast and gloomy...had a bad dream and got back in bed after I took my son to school. I dined on a whole pint of strawberry shortcake ice cream and bawled my eyes out while watching HBO and animal adoption stories on Animal Planet. Is it just me or is being sad kinda...fun? I mean not fun like tongue hanging out your mouth while hanging your head out the window at 65 mph but fun like it's just what you want to be doing? I dunno...I'm whacked. I think The Abyss is on...I'm takin my hot pocket upstairs and cuddling up with my kleenex.
Shoot: October 21, 2004
Model: Lia
Theme: Pin-up
It's 3 a.m. and I just finished working with some of the raw files from tonight's shoot. All pin up stuff. I am very happy with the outcome! Comments/critique welcomed...
LIA
Take a look to the sky just before you die
It is the last time you will
Blackened roar massive roar fills the crumbling sky
Shattered goal fills his soul with a ruthless cry
Stranger now, are his eyes, to this mystery
He hears the silence so loud
Man. Metallica just went downhill after that album.
I am in much better spirits today. Thank you all for your continued support and always making me smile with your sharp comments. It's funny how this whole blogging community works. You share your life online with total strangers yet they know more details about your life than most of your friends. For my blogging friends, I am trying to get better with posting comments but for those of you who are writing about politics and sports right now, ummm I just don't have anything to say. lol
Yesterday I was going to spend the day in bed feeling sorry for myself but a friend had invited me over and I had already said Yes. I was watching Animal Miracles and was going to cancel but then realized that it would be way too easy to let myself fall into some bullshit depression over something I cannot control like the opionions others have of me. So I went and I am so glad I did.
My friend is a photographer and so is his girlfriend. She does glamour stuff of women for a living. I was looking at her stuff and it is along the lines of the stuff I have been doing. I was telling my friend a few weeks ago that I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with my photography and that it always ended up being lingerie/boudoir type stuff. After hanging out with them, I realized that I am drawn to what I have been doing for a reason and I can pursue it professionally. Sure, it probably won't be my bread and butter but it would be nice to have focus and purpose in my art. As a photographer, to see the emotions that go through a woman when she sees the pics of herself in a way she has never seen herself is amazing. I have seen girls cry and it is the best feeling ever because they are tears of joy.
So today is a good day. Today is a fucking great day. I found purpose. I found my inspiration and it was there all along.
Top Ten Reasons Why My Weekend Sucked:
1.) Got caught up in traffic due to TWO accidents on the I-10 Friday night so the two hour drive took four hours.
2.) Didn't get any.
3.) Mom lectured me about getting my son into the Kabballah program in LA. (Um thanks Mom for remembering the fifty million times I told you I believe he should choose his own religion and what about my beliefs being his MOTHER??)
4.) Mom expressed her concern for me since I am getting older and therefore should land a rich man to take care of me and my son...love and sexual attraction will grow with time...(ummm yeah if you're a superficial shallow WHORE). *ahem* And oh thanks for the confidence that maybe I could support myself and my son and oh yeah last time I checked I was in love with my boyfriend who happens to be moving in at month's end and will be taking care of me and my son.
5.) Came home drained to find we were locked out as houseguest locked door to house and has only house key.
6.) Finally got inside to find my computer mysteriously acquired a trojan virus and wiped my C drive.
7.) Realized all my raw files from my last two shoots were on my C drive.
8.) Discovered I have less than $50 in the bank.
9.) Three, count em THREE, uberzits surfaced on my face in all their glorious unison.
10.) I didn't get any...did I mention that?
If those walls could talk...
Today I was on Myspace checking email and I noticed a bulletin titled "I just had a baby" or something to that effect from someone on my friends list. She is a friend of my friend and I only met her once but I knew she wasn't pregnant because I just met her and there was no bun in the oven...I read it and followed the link to her profile...read her LA trip post and my breath caught in my chest. They were hanging out with a friend of my exhusband. I felt sick. Naturally I don't harbor any feelings towards them hanging out with this guy who happens to be friends with my exhusband. I mean, I doubt this dude even knows me or recognizes me as he was coming into my ex's life as I was going out and I was very fat then. He wouldn't recognize me now but...if my ex came up with a profile on that site, he could easily find my profile through this guy and my friends...basically that would be the end of fun on that site for me which would be sad because I have met some really good friends on that site and I meet potential models all the time. The idea of him reading my thoughts and looking at my pictures, having any information to use against me in court which he has and would...this is a man who beat his pregnant wife, nothing is beneath him. Panic. Disgust. Anger. I wanted to stand in a hot shower for an hour and then curl up in my boyfriend's big safe arms.
Funny enough, I already had dinner planned with my girlfriend who is friends with the girl who I mentioned above. During dinner we talked about this and turns out that while hanging out with this guy one day, they met my exhusband! Ugh. My friend was shocked. She said, "What? THAT was him??? But...he's ugly." HAHAHAA God I love her. Hey, people appeal to you in certain times in your life and he worked that whole european Don Juan thing on me. I am a small town girl from PETALUMA for krissakes, I didn't know a french jew whose parents were from Northern Algeria would mean he was basically an arab who would end up treating me like his cattle.
Memories. Not good memories, mind you, have been swirling around in my head like an unwanted houseguest. We've all heard about domestic violence but until you live it, you have no idea. I was married to a man who systematically abused me. Unless you go through it, you have no idea what it is like to have your spirit broken down to shreds in the tread of his boot while you become a shell of a human being, of someone who was once YOU, you just are...lost. I remember being so fearful that I would prepare dinner in a way he disapproved of like the time I made a honeyglaze over a chicken...he threw his plate across the room and it shattered just a few feet from where I was standing, pregnant and trembling. I rushed the chicken to the sink and frantically scrubbed the honeyglaze off because I had forgotten that he didn't like to mix salty things with sweet things...my fault...stupid me...if I had remembered what he liked to eat, he wouldn't be so mad...my fault. Seriously. You begin to think like this. Even when he had my head under water while I was in the bathtub, it was my fault because I had let myself go and gain over 100 lbs while pregnant. I let my husband down. Yes he was right because I was fat and could not sexually arouse him. I was a pig. I deserved it. My fault. If I didn't let myself get so fat, he wouldn't be so mad. The way your mind starts to think is pathetic. Scary. Especially for a headstrong girl who never listened to anyone.
The last day I spent with him was August 8, 1998. My son was 11 months old and I had spent the night on the couch because we had gotten into a fight the night before. H wanted me to do ecstasy with him and I refused because I was still breastfeeding and objected to doing drugs in the house with our son. He flew off the handle saying I was ruining his life, all he does is work and I was taking the fun out of his life. He kicked me in the back of the leg and I locked myself in the bathroom. Talk about a Charlie horse. When I thought he was asleep, I crept out of the bathroom and slept on the couch. In the morning, I waited for him to go into the shower and I was going to take my son for a walk, leave before he got out of the bathroom to avoid more fighting...as I was walking out the door with my son in my arms, he yanked me by my ponytail so hard that my head snapped backwards touching my spine. A clump of hair rested in his palm and he pulled my son from my arms and shoved me out the front door, locking it behind me. He kissed my son's face and smiled at me through the window as I pounded on the door to get back inside. The feeling inside of me as he kissed my son and smiled in that evil way, that monster holding my precious angel. I was frantic, crying and pleading for him to let me in. Eventually he did. I held my son tight and tried to flee to the bedroom. He was too close behind and I just wasn't fast enough...he pulled my son from my arms and set him on the floor a few feet away. Very calmly, he turned and wrapped his hands around my throat. In french he called me a whore and a bitch over and over as he throttled my throat with his fingers. He spat a loogie in my face and banged my head against the wall...I saw my son sitting there crying, his little blue shirt soaked with tears...i barely even felt the punches to my face...i could only claw at his arms trying to free myself to breathe...my son was screaming and crying...it went black for a moment...I remember waking up on the floor, my husband left me there with our son on the floor in hysterics, he finished getting ready and then he went to work. I came to as he was pulling out of the driveway, screeching down the street, music blaring...my baby boy was clinging to my head and still crying. We were both trembling as I scrambled off the floor. With my baby and what I could fit in my little car, I headed north to my mom and dad. On highway 5 in the 102 degree heat, my tire blew. I swerved on the highway and came to a skidding hard stop in the gravel on the shoulder of the road. Carrying my son down the road in the heat to the emergency call phone, I jumped everytime a car would whir by. It was like they were going 500 miles an hour and were a foot away. I tried walking as far from the road as possible but the shoulder went down at a bad angle into a ravene. Finally I got to the phone and waited almost an hour for the tow truck. Once I got to the service station, I thought I would give my husband the benefit of the doubt. He knew we were leaving and we were in trouble. I called him for money as he never allowed me to have cash or a credit card, I only had a bank card from an account he put $200 a week into which was always spent on groceries and gas. I think there was $15 in it at the time. He said I was a disgrace as a mother. To put my son in that position. He hung up on me. Luckily my parents were always there to help and took care of it for me. I went back home with his thumbprints bruised into my throat, my eye filled with blood and lumps on the back of my head. I had bruises all over my ribs and buttocks from previous attacks. I was someone else. I was a sad broken ghost of a girl who was once named Rachel.
It's been a long, hard road back. But even now, I am reminded of the hell I survived. Things like what happened today throw me in it for just a moment. Remind me not to get too comfortable. Always be ready because he might make good on his promise...If you ever leave me, I will kill you, take my son to Israel and your family will never see him again. I will be long gone by the time they find your body.
On my way home from dinner tonight, I passed street we lived on together. My son was asleep and I made the hard turn and shot down the alley back to the street where it all happened. How many nights had I fled from the house and spent hours weeping behind a neighbor's car or anywhere I could hide? Too many to count. How many screams had risen up in the nightsky in this neighborhood? Too many to count. This is the place where I lost my soul. This is the place I died. I parked the car across the street and stared at the house. I felt like I was visiting a grave. The house looks different now. They even changed the location of the front door. Cheesy lattice all over the front yard to form some mockery of a fence. Just a reminder of how long ago it was but still, these memories are so fresh in my head that it could have happened yesterday. I can see his face inches from mine, snarling at me, the deep angry crease above in his forehead as he screamed at me...pulled my hair, threw me to the ground...kicked me in the stomach. Such horror within those walls...so much I have overcome...and still I have to smile when I drop off my son for visitation. Some things you cannot wash away. How do you forgive when there is no justice for crimes gone unpunished? He denies everything. I only had one measly hospital record where the doctor called the cops as it was obviously a domestic violence situation. One stinkin record. I had nothing. I guess what's in the past is in the past. But how do I share my son with a monster and be happy about it?
I can't.
I have decided that unemployment has its perks. The light was glimpsed when I had to go to a temp agency for my first time. Everyone seems to rave about how easy it is to get jobs through temp agencies. OK, so I went. I had to sit through a 45 minute training video using giganormous headphones that made me feel like I was 6 years old listening to my parents 8 track. Training video on how to be a TEMP? Uhhh ok. So the video had this horrible actor playing none other than Sherlock Holmes and was enthuisiasticly talking to the camera (ie the viewer) as if it (we/I) were Watson. Some wild haired blonde with bad costume jewelry and an outfit suited only for trailer parks in Alabama played the cookie cutter bad temp and a prim and proper brunette with her hair pulled tightly in a bun and what seemed like a metal rod placed just as tightly up her ass played the good temp.
As I endured this horrifying video for the duration of the longest 45 minutes of my natural life, I had to answer questions on a quiz they gave me. I distinctly remember one of the lessons talking about how a temp should never perform a task or job that causes them stress or emotional anguish. I can live with that. Seems logical. Don't be stressed, don't do more than what you have been hired to do, don't stand on boxes or a swivel chair to reach things high up, don't walk on oil spots in the parking garage or you'll end up like Millie...got it. Check, check, check and check.
So, after a few weeks of turning down interviews for slave labor at slave pay rates, I got a call for what seemed like a pretty cool opportunity. If you don't already know this, my long term goal is to become a psychologist. I would love to do this but as a single parent, it is very difficult to go to college, raise a kid, work and live. So school always gets set aside. It took me three years to get my AA...oh wait that's right, I am 3 classes AWAY from my AA so technically, it took me 3 years to ALMOST get my AA. *snort* Even better. Yay, and I didn't think I could feel worse today. Thanks Me.
ANYWAY so this job is for a part time office manager position working with a group of psychologists who STUDY homosexuality. Whoa. Cool! How interesting would that be. I went to the webpage and glanced over it while my son had a sugar attack behind me. Cool ok yeah I'll check it out. Once I get to the interview, I could tell I was in for it. It was the smallest office I have ever seen. Three women sharing a space the size of my kitchen. I wonder if they are all on the same menstrual cycle. What? It could happen. So, the lady loved me, so much so that she started "venting" and talking shit to me about how incompotent the other two women in the office are. Nice. The interview was going well until she handed me a 3 page packet and told me to type it exact. OK. As my fingers are pounding the keyboard, I am slowing my pace and my heart starts beating faster...What the.... These crazy motherfuckers BELIEVE that homosexuality is a MENTALL ILLNESS that can be cured through TREATMENT and FAITH. (Just go ahead and throw the two things that will set me off on a heated debate with anyone who will go head to head with me....heh, I said HEAD)
OH MY CUNNILINGUS.
My mind was racing. My sexual encounters with women started flashing in my mind like a music video. I think I caught myself smirking.
Main Entry: oral sex
Function: noun
: oral stimulation of the genitals : CUNNILINGUS : FELLATIO
Source: Merriam-Webster Medical Dictionary, © 2002 Merriam-Webster, Inc.
oral sex
n : oral-genital stimulation; "they say he gives good head" [syn: head]
Pussy. Eat pussy. Lick it. Sweet candy. Tits. Biting. Tickle. Cute little toes. Curves. Soft skin. Hair cascading over my belly as her mouth moves down......I could not stop the train of thought...the inevitable pattern of thought spiraling further into my own perversions. Chuckling to myself I thought of taking the job and coming into work with the scent of a female lover still on my chin.
I almost walked out. Morally I could not deal with the idea of working for such a bullshit organization that I adamantly oppose.
So unemployment it is. I'll keep my unemployment and my self esteem thank you. I mean I'm not a hardcore liberalist or anything but being half gay and not choosing to be this way, just BEING this way, I couldn't in good conscience take the job.
The temp agency is pissed at me now which is funny because I do believe it was THEM who made me sit through a 45 minute video on what my rights and limitations are and once I exercise it, they blow me off.
Nothin like a lil hypocrisy in the mornin.
