Renlish

I had to rescue this from the Wayback Machine from when I was the bisexual writer of Spreegirl.net.

(For those wanting to ask the obvious question – yes I am, but I am also happily married and I spent many moons writing for Dykewrite explaining why it was perfectly normal.)

Anyway, it tickled me to see some of the stuff that I’d written because not a lot survives – which is kinda sad since I’ve been writing/blogging  since 1999.

June 16, 2003 – 10.57am

The word for today is “Apathy”.
Who likes that Aerosmith song, “Janie’s got a gun”? I used to sing it at the top of my lungs whenever I heard it. But you sorta can’t do that in the middle of an office at 9.30am. It’s too early for my sort of noise.

I’m not going to be lame and post the lyrics here. You want the lyrics, go look ‘em up yourself. Heh.

I’m feeling so inane this morning. Too tired to deal with the phones and everything else. I hate this job. Hate this city. I love Melbourne, but not when I have to work in the middle of Assholelawyersville and have to deal with their trumped up, glorified secretaries on power trips (P.A’s) every few minutes and then have stress attacks because they will not fucking listen to a word I’m saying.

For instance, last week we had a problem with a particular office. The place is run by PA’s who seem to think they are top shit (as usual) and don’t actually need to do any actual work until their bosses realize that, hey, no work is getting done! And then all Hell breaks loose when they (the PA’s) don’t get what they want – which is everything the day before they actually order it.

On the Friday before last, this chick rang up and said that she’d keyed in a matter that she wanted to chase up. It was keyed in the day before. In otherwords – “No way, no how.”

But she was not to be deterred.

Her: So I won’t be getting the certificates back today?
Me: No.
H: Not even the online ones?
M: *sigh* No.
H: What about early next week?
M: Like, on Tuesday?
H: Yes!
M: No.
H: Oh. Well, that’s not good. I need these certificates by Wednesday.
M: The applications are being sent out today. It’s a long weekend. Chances are that the authorities won’t even be getting them by Wednesday at the earliest.
H: Why? You’ve got an online system. Why can’t you do this for me?!
M: *explaining the whole rigmarole from beginning to end, knowing that the client knows exactly why she can’t have her certificates when she wants them, and finishes off the schpeil with a suggestion that she let me cancel her application so she can apply directly.*
H: I don’t think that’s really worth doing. We’ll let it go through the system and see how we go next week. (Or, in non-bullshittry, “That sounds like work to me, and I’m too busy reading Vogue and painting my nails to do that!”).
M: *getting frustrated as we are not allowed to say “no” to these clients outright but simply try in vain to dissuade them from doing the inevitable* I cannot guarantee that we will be able to chase these certificates up… (…another schpeil about turn-around times, etc, etc, etc and other stuff she’s not listening to anyway)…
H: Well, I need these certificates by the end of next week, so we’ll see how it goes. (meaning – “I don’t care what you say, I will do things my way and you will help me get these certificates or else I am complaining to your boss and will threaten for the umpteenth time this month to go with OurCompetitor.”)

Sure enough, on Tuesday, MP got the call from the boss of this secretary (who is another PA – yes, PA’s have their own PA too!) who decided to go ape-shit and demand all her certificates. Not only that, but three other girls from the same office called about the exact same matter and had three out of the four available hotliners chasing the same thing for the better part of an hour until I realized what was being done. Needless to say, there was much swearing heard from everyone.

It’s frustrating.

And today, the system is down, so of course people are angry again. Not good for first think on a Monday.

In other news, Jo was evicted from Big Brother last night! I’m happy. I didn’t watch the show as I was too busy sobbing over the fact that I wasn’t at the last John Farnham concert last right at the Rod Laver Arena. Grr. Fortunately, Channel 7 telecast the event semi-live because they knew a shitload of people would be wanting to see it too. I consoled myself with the fact that I probably had better seats in my loungeroom than I would have at the actual concert… but I still wanted to go.

And it was his last big venue concert. Ever. *sob*

He puts on a great show though. And he finally did “Sadie, the Cleaning Lady” at the end, which was very, very cool. I’m buying the DVD next week.

I guess I better go and do some work now…
*trudges out of blogland*

For weeks on end I’ve been dreaming up my business to the point where I am actually putting pen to paper, registering business names, writing business plans, converting the front room into a studio…

Ok, not really converting the front room into the studio but you get the idea – I am enthusiastic.

And the front room would make a bloody fantastic studio.

I am all about women – all women, any shape, any colour, any age – feeling good about themselves. This has been my creed for the past six months even while the plans were merely pipe dreams.

A comment was made earlier this week on a photography forum that I tried extremely hard not to take offense to… but sort of did anyway.

Although I know it wasn’t personal, nor was it directed at me nor was it made in any seriousness, it still hit me like a punch to the gut.

A reply to a request for suggestions on how to pose larger ladies was:

I guess it would be too cheeky to suggest that a wide angle lens may be a good starting point?

(For the record, the poster of that comment apologised and removed it – though not before I got onto my high horse and said something for which I in turn have apologised.)

It’s precisely that sort of self-depreciating comment or veiled insult that I would really like to stop.  We’re all worthy people (except for those who aren’t – like murderers, racists, rapists and kiddy-fiddlers) and we all deserve much better than to pay ourselves so much disservice.  As a woman, life can be particularly cruel if you’re not a glamazon.  I’m not sure what it’s like to be a male in the same situation (for obvious reasons) but I’m sure it’s the same sort of “not fun”. It’s hard enough to summon the gonads for dropping one’s daks and getting nakey in front of a lens. Snide remarks of any sort are neither appreciated nor wanted. And we’re certainly all capable of making such comments about ourselves.

My business is all about “love thyself”, self empowerment by showing people that they can look fantastic and doing a boudoir shoot for themselves more than a partner.

Consider me a “happiness consultant”.

Yes, I watched the first episode of Hung.  Oh Thomas Jane, why did you stoop so low? I could forgive you for The Punisher but you have done your dash now.

This post is dedicated to two of the most lovely and beautiful (inside and outside) ladies I know… Tam and Janet. The former possessing a shining inner light and major spark of creative fun, the latter possing a sublime grace and elegance I could only dream of having. They are my inspiration.

Tam (left) & Janet (right)

Okay, so here’s the plan.

Ren starts a business.

Good plan?

A photography business. A boudoir photography business.

‘Licious Photo has been born – at least in concept. There’s lots of developing business plans and the like, but this is going to happen, one way or another.

Not a lot of people approve.  Or they just don’t get it.

“I’m going to be a photographer,” I say.

“Oh wow! That’s impressive!  Are you doing weddings?” They say.

“No, I’m doing boudoir,” I say

“Oh…”  They are not impressed.  They are confused. They are even a little put off.

I’d like to know what’s so damned difficult to understand about boudoir photography.  I’m not a dirty pervert.   I love taking photos of women. Women are pretty; all shapes and curves and gorgeousness.  They look good in print. I want to do that.  What’s more, I want women to feel good about themselves – skinny or fat, young or old. I want it to be my mission to prove to ladies that they can be superstars in front of a camera.  I know what it’s like to look and feel ugly.  I can sympathise and empathise.

It’s a great feeling knowing that you’ve made someone feel special.  It’s a bit addictive.

I’ve had some excellent feedback in regards to the photos I’ve taken of Janet and I know I am on the right track. With a little patience and practice, I’ll actually be good at this stuff.

And I do so desperately want to be good at something.

Yes, this is a rambly post, I know. It’s Sunday night, I’m in the homework doldrums and dreading another full five days of the day-job beginning tomorrow morning.

I am posting this here because this tidbit that I wrote a few months ago has gone viral around the world.  Might as well post it on my blog for prosperity too.

Twilight – in 197 Seconds…

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So… this weekend has been particularly heartbreaking for me.

I lost everything.

All my photographs.  All of my purchased stock resources. All of my writing. All of my inspirational resources. All of my art and writing for the past several years. Everything. Ehv-ree-thing. Well, everything not including my last round of assignments (for which I was all but accused of cheating on but that’s another story for another day), my vector car and the fantasy portrait I completed of Tamara.

That, my dears, is it.

How did this disaster happen?

I was dumb.  I was using what was supposed to be my backup storage as another drive.  As a result, I ended up hearing the click of death early on Saturday morning.  Accessing the drive suddenly became impossible.

I don’t think I could adequately describe the feelings I was experiencing, though I think it can be summed up as complete and utter devastation.

The manbeast tried very, very hard to save the day. He pulled the thing apart, threw it into his caddy and tried to access it.  Nothing doing.  Gone.

At the moment, my only hope is either running some software to get the stuff back or handing the drive over to a data recovery facility.  Considering the sensitivity of the data on the drive, I’d rather spend the big dollars to get the professionals to (hopefully) fix it than run the risk of ruining any chances of recovery by attempting to do the job myself.

So I guess the moral of the story is keep back-ups of your back-ups and back-up to multiple sources, ’cause I tell ya, this sucks.

SUCKS.

Is anyone still reading this thing?  Hello?

Bueller?

It’s been a long time since I’ve used this blog to rant about the world.  I sort of miss it.  It happens during the day, still.  I’ll be sitting somewhere away from my computer and say “God, that annoys me, I want to write about how I’m feeling” but by the time I get home, the feeling’s gone and the impetus to write about it – or anything else for that matter – is also long gone.  Blogging was such a cathartic activity for me.  Cathartic in the way that buying thousands of dollars worth of beading supplies (of which only a fraction has been used). Cathartic in the way that buying a $1800 lens felt.

Guilty pleasure.  Addictive.

It’s also a little weird that this blog is now not quite as anonymous.  Hell, I’ve linked it to Facebook often enough.

(Side note, my mother would be horrified to know that I have been airing my dirty laundry for over ten years.)

…

(She abhors the idea of blogs and people talking about personal stuff so that anyone can read it.)

…

(She can barely stand Facebook.)

…

(She does have a Facebook account, however. )

…

(Hi Mum!)

…

Anyway…

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If God had not wanted us to eat cows, he wouldn’t have made them out of meat.