Star Crafty

Today I went to a wedding at the Mandalay Bay Hotel. My old SCAD friend Noreen flew into town for her friend Diana's wedding to Nathan (we all were film kids). Diana looked so cute and tiny it was too adorable. It was nice seeing old friends. Noreen and I shared a Rogue Chocolate Stout at the Burger Bar while we chatted about the energy of New York City, the arts and men who take heartbreak a little too seriously. Old dorm friend Chrysta was also there, fantastic blonde hair and all. So cute. Noreen leaves tomorrow, sadly we couldn't hang out for too long.

When I first met Noreen in the Fall of 2002 at Weston House, I thought she was a gypsy. She had big dark glasses, a very colorful shirt, and a certain off-world vibe about her. I thought she was cool. She is. I'll miss ya Noreeners!

I often think of her and all the friends I have in New York City. My cousin Agmar the Actress, who is my most favoritest person in the whole planet, lives there, in trendy Williamsburg. I imagine us meeting over coffee (or frapuccino, or some sort of soft drink, I avoid coffee unless I REALLY need it) at a cafe close to New School on her break from classes and my break from work. We'd catch up on the day, she'd tell me how her theater thesis is going and hopefully there is some ghetto family gossip that we can discuss to the fullest extent. We pay the bill and head on back to our respective destinations. Hopefully for me that would lead me to the Fashion District and maybe, maybe, I would have to take a turn on Sixth and 28th by the Flower District, across from FIT, smelling all the distinct scents of countries far away, countries that traveled in the form of lilies, and roses and mums, all exotic all so beautiful (pay no mind that the Fashion District is quite a long walk away from the Union Square area of New School, but sshhh).

I often think of all these imaginary walks and trips to galleries and museums and limited visits to bars (money's scarce and NY bars are freakin expensive) and I realize my heart is beating, beating, beating too strongly, probably because it thinks we're actually right there in
the Big Apple, racing through the hellish morning commute, battling cold winds in the winter and stressing over money. But it beats like a drum because it imagines it would be so happy surrounded by this vibrant life and art. Oh the art. In a few moments I have to calm it down. Sing a little lullaby (Frank's New York, New York) and pay attention to the highway that circles the giant suburb that is Las Vegas. 'Cause that's what Vegas is, one giant homogeneous suburb split by a single vein of neon and fleeting cultures.

But more fleeting is the confidence that lies in me, it wavers and wavers, never settles. I overcome the insecurities at times, but not always. My treasured insecurities drag the time on my days off to the point I doubt my productivity (or lack thereof). April 9 will mark the 10th month of my relocation to Vegas and I feel like I've accomplished nothing. I've only now just started promoting my photography...but I'm still dragging. I've considered engaging in a life coaching session with this lady, to help me rid of this negativity and find my purpose, but sadly I can't afford that right now because I'm saving to move out to an apartment of my own (I live with my brother in his huge house).

I tire of my complaints, I really do. And when I do, I take harsh decisions, like, say, move across country to Vegas, a place that I sorta picked out because I wanted the restless, wanderlust voices in my head to just shut up. So I said, Fine, I'll move out even though I friggin' love Savannah, but I'll move out, just shut up. And that's how I ended up here. Now I don't want to be here.

Dear blog readers, I apologize profoundly for this post. For my endless whining. I needed to vent. Somehow maybe I should take up on Miss Karen's offer for the life coaching. Maybe I should just take the money I'll save in the next 2-3 months and pack up to NYC.

Mostly, though, I should STFU and ride this wave out for a little while.

*le sigh*

Yes I'm turning 26 in just 2-3 weeks. It's ripping me apart.

*LE SIGH*

I shall let you all darling readers if I even make it out alive from this. If anybody has any suggestions as to how I should organize everything, drop me a line. Or a whisky. Whatever works the best.

Am listening to an old school tango station on Pandora. Oh how beautiful and heart-felt is this music. Reminds me of my Edith Piaf. Oh Edith. Oh France. Someday, someday...

Posted by starmagn at 06:35 PM | Comments (2)

March 08, 2008

A collection of wisdom

Just like any regular Jane out there, I collect things and like to photograph them. I collect fortune cookie slips, as so many others do. Some are amused by them. Me? I think they are mystical. Perhaps I am placing importance on them, but they always, always, seem to address the issues roaming abouts my head during a specific time of my life. Strange. Odds are I'm just imagining things. Nevertheless, I heart them lots, and whether an ancient bearded Chinese man (smoking a pipe, of course) is channeling me through these computerized pieces of paper or not, I derive some sort of wisdom with every cookie.

I hope to continue photographing my growing collections of pointless ephemera that inhabit my life. I share my fortune cookie slips collection with you. Please view. Eat. Learn.

(click below, view slideshow, please make sure not to click outside the images, for the slideshow will restart and you might cry.)

Also, does anyone remember that episode of Beverly Hills 90210 where the gang plays a little game (that apparently moves the story forward) in which they have to add the words "in bed" at the end of the fortune, and Brenda reads hers and it somehow reflects a negative aspect of her relationship (if they even ever called it like such) with Dylan, and she uncomfortably looks at him across the table, possibly regretting whoring her ass with him while the others laugh and read their saucy fortunes out loud? Like. omg... that was INTENSE DRAMA......... in bed.

Posted by starmagn at 02:48 AM | Comments (5)

March 07, 2008

My Dear Forsyth Park...

My last year in college was a tumultuous one. A bitter break up, a sack full of expectations and insecurities climbing my pores. Nothing ever worked, all my projects were silently laughed at during critiques, I was burned out, like I'd never been before. Six continuous years in school will do that to you. During that Spring my only fleeting happiness came from riding my Huffy Beach Cruiser (I miss you, Bikey) through the paths of Forsyth Park back in Savannah (which I leaned much later you were not supposed to cross the park, but ride around it).

So one day, the 26th of February of 2006, I took out a Mamiya RZ67 medium format camera, my most favorite camera of all absolute time, out of the school's photo equipment "cave" and walked to Forsyth to try and capture the little, little living things that made me smile. No fine art, no deadlines, no pretentiousness, no expectations, no critique, no nothing. Just Forsyth, the Mamiya and me.

I developed the five Kodak rolls, but never got to see what was in them, due to lack of time.

Till now. After two years, I finally took the negatives to a professional photo lab here in Vegas and asked the technicians to scan them. Three days later I was back and when handed the small 4x6 contact sheet of all the images, I couldn't hold it and shed a little tear or two (how emo of me, I know). I had Forsyth back with me, the calm and serenity of that one day.

Wanna know the sad thing about it all? I lived in Savannah for almost five years, and I never, EVER, EVER spent relaxing time at Forysth. I was either rushing to class, photographing or shooting a film at the park (or even selling beverages at the graduation concert). It wasn't until a month before I left, that I brought a book with me, Robert Capa's Slightly out of Focus (amazing memoirs from an incredible photographer) and laid down in the grass, with seven melting Crunch mini-bars in my beach bag, Godfrey and his friends playing soccer out in the field, and a conversation with a rather handsome boy with a penchant for pizzas from the Precinct Deli on Bull st.

So my dear Forsyth Park, you always only saw me in passing, and I regret my lack of attention, but these images are for you and for all you gave me. I miss the greenery, so so so bad.

Click on the image below to view the slide show. And yes, I am a shallow DOF whore. So sue me.

Also, do not click outside the images, it will only restart the slideshow. I am still researching proper scripts to display pictures. Bear with me, please.

Posted by starmagn at 11:12 PM | Comments (3)