(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*

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.

Twilight – in 197 Seconds…

From Head Trip - headtripcomics.comicgenesis.com

Bella: OMG this town is like, so depressing.

Bella: But the boys like me.

Bella: Oooh, look at that pretty boy over there.

Edward: *glare*

Bella: He doesn’t like me.

Edward: *stare*

Bella: Doesn’t matter. I have two boys wanting to ask me out.

Edward: *grin*

Bella: BUT HE’S SO PRETTY! *SQUEE!*

Edward: Hi, my name is Edward and I’m bipolar. I will hate you one day and be enraptured with you the next. Do not ask questions.

Bella: Dude, you just stopped a van from hitting me WITH YOUR BARE HANDS! Hero! *SQUEE!*

Edward: I know. I’m cool like that.

Bella: Cool, but not humanly possible. How did you do that?

Edward: First rule of mighty strength and super speed – YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT MIGHTY STRENGTH AND SUPER SPEED.

Bella: Fine. I like you. Be my friend?

Edward: *glower* Ok. But I am a scary friend.

Bella: *dreams inappropriate dream of Edward*

Jacob Black: Hi, I am Jacob Black. I am not as old as you but I am still hot. I will now tell you scary cryptic things about Forks. (The town, not the utensil.)

Bella: Know anything about Edward?

Jacob: Yep. Dawg’s a vampire. We don’t like him. Because we’re werewolves.

Bella: *dreams inappropriate dream about Edward & Jacob*

Bella: *perpetual bad mood*

Edward: *glares*

Bella’s best friends: We are going shopping and you are coming with us in an obvious plot device to get you into trouble.

Four bad guys: We are planning on doing something very nasty with you in an obvious plot device to get your almost-boyfriend to come rescue you.

Bella: Don’t mess with me for I have secret ninja powers! HI-YAH!

Edward: I have come to rescue you (possibly from yourself).

Bella: My hero! *SQUEE!*

Edward: *possessive growl*

Bella: You’re so pretty. I think I love you.

Edward: I know. I’m dead sexeh. (DEAD sexeh—get it? MUAHAHAHA!!)

Bella: I know you’re a vampire but I want you to be my boyfriend. Everyone thinks we’re going out anyway.

Edward: But I am incredibly moody, somewhat manic-depressive…

Bella: … and pretty… *squee!*

Edward: …and may possibly, y’know, eat you. Not good boyfriend material.

Bella: I am not frightened of you! *dramatic pose*

Edward: You should be. Because I SPARKLE. *sparkles*

Bella: So what do you eat?

Edward: Mountain lions and grizzly bears.

Bella: But they’re a protected species!

Edward: I only eat them when the population gets too high. I am an environmentally friendly vampire.

Bella: *SQUEE!*

Edward: But I am still a bad boyfriend.

Bella: No you’re not.

Edward: Yes I am.

Bella: No you’re not.

Edward: Yes I am.

Bella: No you’re not.

Edward: Yes I am.

Bella: You’re too beautiful and moody to be a bad boyfriend.

Edward: You smell tasty. *sniff sniff… lick*

Bella: BAD! BAD BOYFRIEND!

Edward: *sad sparkle*

Bella: I love you anyway for you have been upgraded from merely “absurdly handsome” to “excruciatingly beautiful”… and you smell minty fresh. Which is odd for a guy who’s been dead for 90 years.

Edward: *happy sparkle*

Bella: So when do we… you know?

Edward: Can’t. Ever. May crush your skull in fit of passion. Plus this book was written by a Mormon housewife which explains why I’m not even getting to second base even though I am a painfully good-looking, testosterone-filled, 17 year-old male.

Bella: So. Not. Cool.

Edward: *uncomfortable sparkly vampire version of blue balls. Resorts to sniffing Bella. A lot.*

Cullens: We like to play baseball. In the woods. During thunderstorms.

Bad vampire (James): Bella looks tasty.

Evil vampire’s girlfriend (Victoria): *OMGLOLGGLBBQQANTAS!*

Edward: *FEROCIOUS GROWLY SPARKLE*

Useless vampire (Laurent): James is evil and now wants to eat Bella, but I’m not going to help you save her because I am the useless vampire and will bugger off to another some other good vampire family conveniently located in the kingdom of Far, Far Away.

Bella: *flits off to Phoenix to save mother from nasty vampire James while Cullens aren’t looking – even though ONE OF THEM SEES THE FREAKIN’ FUTURE*

James: I tricked you! Nyah nyah! But before I eat you, let me tell you all about my evil shenanigans, therefore giving your boyfriend and his friends adequate time to locate us, burst through the door, kill me and rescue you.

Bella: You’ve watched too many James Bond movies…

Cullens & Edward: *burst through door, kill James, rescues Bella*

James: *is deader than a few minutes ago… and slightly on fire*

Cullens: Oh dear, Bella got bitten by evil James. Edward, it falls to you to save her. Try not to get hungry and eat her in the process, m’kay?

Edward: *saves Bella, doesn’t eat her, thereby proving her point that he is a good boyfriend*

Bella: *SQUEE!*

Edward: Let’s go to prom!

Everyone: Yay!

The End. THANK GOD.

New Moon is currently being drafted.

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.

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…

How do I feel at the moment?

Put upon.  Which is laughable because I am probably the least put-upon person in the world.  I have a few commitments but apart from that life for me is easy sailing.

What have I got going in my life?

My job has changed.  Well, not my job, just my role. I was appointed the team senior for reasons I will not understand though from a personal standpoint I pushed for it because it will looking fucking good on my resume once I’m done working where I am – whenever that will be.

Oh, I just swore.  I just swore in my blog…

I’M HOME! Did you miss me?

Anyway, the upgraded job happened about three weeks ago and the day after I promptly fell ill with some malaise (possibly Dengue Fever, Ebola or the Black Death – though I’m missing the fever, bleeding eyeballs and required pustules) that’s seen me off work and using up all my accrued annual leave and tipped into unpaid leave. Sucks to be me.  It’s still not completely gone, either.

I have also been attending a graphics design school, doing a course which will see be graduate as a bona fide Dip (and not just a regular dip) which, while I thought it would be a great thing for me, it… isn’t.

Apart from the recent spate of hassles that I’ve had with the institution at which I am studying, I’ve decided  I don’t want to be a graphic designer.  Frankly, I don’t want a job doing something I love to do.    When it becomes a job – when it becomes a chore - I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to lose the love of what I do.

How’s that for a conundrum?  Or is it a catch 22? Or a contradiction?  Or just Ren being STUPID as per usual?

I am approaching my photography business in the same way though.  I want it to support itself. I know full well that I will lose money initially but hopefully, if I stick with it, I will make money to at least cover my costs.  I am happy with that much.  I can indulge in my love of photography and Photoshop… unless I am so outrageously good at what I am planning to do that people will traverse oceans to be photographed by me and I am making squillions, then it might be a different story.  I do stand by my philosophy on the matter of “doing what you love” – when it becomes a chore, I no longer love it and I am not going to ruin something that I love by forcing myself to do it when I don’t want to.

So, I guess that means I will be forever stuck in jobs I don’t really like.

My husband won’t be pleased. He bears the brunt of my vicious mood swings and voracious unhappiness about my current state of employment.

Something I am enjoying is sharing what I do for fun on this blog. I love creating pictures. I love the process. I think I’d be happy working for a magazine putting this stuff together. I have been told I have a flare for writing (I hope they weren’t lying) and that I am, at least in text, entertaining. So I’ll continue to post pictures and how-to’s – the latter when I have the time to break down what I do… do. If anyone finds them useful, please leave me a comment. I love feedback – even the bad sort.

Oh yeah, and I also want a puppy.

This doesn’t please the husband either.

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

I don’t spend nearly as much time with my father as I’d like, for one reason or another.  It was nice to be able to snap a few pictures, even though I had to use his camera to do so. The Nikon D60 is a confuzzling little bit of machinery.  Anyway, Dad’s always been a real character…

I won’t post the one where he’s groping his man-bits, though.

Even fairies need them sometimes.

Stock credits listed on the deviantART page.

A lot of my favourite photographs from my travels are now on my RedBubble account. Some of my other creative photomanipulations will also be going up (as soon as I get permission from the stockers to do so).

I actually need some extra cash to buy a lampworking kit to make pretty beads, like this…

If you feel like donating to the cause, please consider buying a print or a card. Every little bit helps.

Alternatively, if anyone’s got any good quality photos of their kids, I am happy to take on a commission or two.

Or design some jewellery…