Another late night, boredom and an itchy creativeness my only motivation. Tried to take some black and white pictures of myself with my new digital camera then crop and shrink them in Photoshop for LJ. I normally really enjoy photography when I've got two hands to control the camera, but I admit I feel quite the blushing, naive amateur when I'm under the scrutiny of the lens. All those years dancing and acting on stage, the debates and motivational speeches, the comfort I feel when talking to anyone, even total strangers about whatever moves me, none that experience and confidence is of use to me. On camera, I feel powerless, weaponless, without the strengths of my personality, my charm, my voice, my command of the language to aid me in communicating who I really am. Instead I have to trust, cross my fingers, and pray that the two-dimensions will manage to capture at least something of who I am instead of showing an uninterestingly flat and cliched person who's begging for someone to pay attention to her. Only the most gifted photographer can include even a portion of the personality, spirit, soul of the person in the picture, can give the flat, high-gloss 8x10 a life of its own so that a living entity looks back at you.
But there I am in the picture, smiling back at you, if you can just catch me, the overwhelming dynamism that weaves in and out of lives and creates wellsprings of humanness and honesty. (Really, now for the honesty, photographs are never good enough, all unsatisfactory, makes us look fat, ugly, stupid, boring, because it is the most objective, it shows us what we are, the actuality, the truth. And that's never good enough, not what we want to be, not who we want to be. So we throw them away, refuse to show other people and reveal our true forms, hide them away in desks and under beds until we can find a photographer who can hide us with dim lighting, drapes, a filter on the lens, airbrushing.)
testing my patience, thank goodness I really want to learn
Still plugging away at html, but I fear the learning curve is keeping my mastery as a very low velocity.
stronger and harder than a bad girl's dream...
Despite my lack of sleep, I am frighteningly awake. For some reason, I feel sexy, alive, empowered, sultry, blaringly real. I can feel all of my body reaching out, radiating its needs in concentric circles from my place behind the geometric, impersonal, communal office table in the computer lab. Maybe it's because I know that some people are thinking of me, I know that they want me, too, serving to enliven my flesh, awaken the fluid sex inside. However, I can't act on it, I must divert that sexuality into something else, or just enjoy the electricity in my blood.
Since coming to Japan, my body has gone into hibernation, not a normal state for me; my sexuality has never been latent, shrouded, or coveted. I might have kept my body somewhat sacred and mysterious, but my sexuality, the strength of my flesh, the ancientness of those desires have never been hushed or reserved. However, now, again I feel alive and awake and mortal and human. Rejoice. Goodnight.