Friday, June 17, 2011

Week 24 — Death of a Prom Queen

Week 24/52

There's always a line for the photographer's stage, on these things. Proms, Bar Mitzvahs, cotillions — the one thing he knows is that the girls always want to have their picture taken, and the boys almost always comply, in the hopes for some sloppy kissing and groping in the hallway, later. It's how it works, and it's never bothered him until now. There's a blonde and a pimple-faced kid, standing awkwardly in front of the red backdrop, but his eyes are drawn to the girl at the end of the line.

It takes him a few minutes to get through everyone and when the girl approaches him, he notices for the first time that she's the Prom Queen. A plastic tiara was placed lopsidedly on her hair and the mascara that once made her eyes open up with flair is now running down her cheeks. Her lipstick is smudged, but the most obvious sign of her decay is still the lack of a date by her side. She's the first girl he's photographing alone, this evening.

She's not hiding. There's no embarrassment in her stride as she motions to stand in front of the red curtain, no shame. She holds her head high and the Photographer is able to notice that her eyes are dry. Whatever she had to cry about, she's done with it, it's a thing of the past. He marvels at the feeling she emanates; it's something he's never seen before — the feeling of a clean slate, of the newness and the opportunity that comes after you graduate. She's not just crying, she's shedding her skin like a snake, growing newer and more beautiful scales. She's transforming. And as she brings a hand up to wipe some lipstick off of her face, his mind forces him to press down on the shutter button, and a click is heard.

Her eyes shoot up to meet his, and when they do, she smiles. Her part is done, and so is his.


Whoever gets the TV reference in the title (no googling!) wins a prize. An air kiss from me. Yes, that.

Don't forget to check out my 100 Days of Summer project! Oh, and the texture belongs to the lovely pareeeerica.

Week 23 — The Firefly Collection

Week 23/52

I'm very uncertain about this shot. I don't like it all that much, but since I've been on an inspirational rut these past few weeks, I'll post what I have and go with the flow. Oh well.

I wanted to do something with fireflies, this week, sort of in reference to the cult TV show... FIREFLY. Were you surprised? Were you? :D Okay, I'll stop. But really, I just watched this show. In little over a week, I went through the 15 episodes and I couldn't stop crying when I saw the last one. I loved it so, so much. I still have the movie to watch, but I'm sort of saving it for a rainy day, you know? But the show! It's so epic. Nathan Fillion is incredible, Morena Baccarin is to die for and Jewel Staite might just be the most adorable thing I've ever seen. It's such a gorgeous cast, such wonderful actors, and Joss Whedon's writing is flawless! BUT okay. Enough geeking over a show.

I'm not sure if I like this better in color or in BW, but when in doubt, I usually go with color.

Have a glorious weekend, you all! :)

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Week 22 — A Cotton Candy Summertime

Week 22/52

June marks the beginning of the summer, for me. It's my favorite month of the year, a month that reminds me of parties, or state fairs, of lights and sound and joy and music. It's a month that holds the hopes we always have for the Summer; before it gets too hot and those hopes fall to the ground like most things do.

For so long, I wrote about the small things. I wanted to sublimate the mundane, to bring every detail to epic proportions. Now I'm running away from the trivialities of life in order to create a new reality for myself, a world in which I can make cotton candy fly and watch it swirl around me. A world where everyone is met with a smile and we can burst into song in the middle of the street.

I used to want the calm and quietness of life, but now I want it loud, I want the noises and wonders of it. I want emotion as it comes, I want to experience it all, to soak it all up, fully, madly, deeply. I wonder if it's a seasonal thing — if the Summer is somehow perfect for the insanity of true and complete emotion, and the Winter for the soft quietness of the everyday life. Maybe it's the heat, or maybe it's just the fact that we grew up being used to be free in the warm months, and confined to a home with school work up to our necks during the cold ones. I don't know.

What I do know, is that June starts my idea of Summer, and with the first day of the month comes this craving for new sensations, for joy, to go on road trips and have meaninful conversations behind the wheel; to sing and dance like we don't care in the middle of the street; To feel things wholly, without holding back. To read and write and not feel guilty about the life that I chose. To drive and drive and drive and wear nothing but flowery dresses and flip-flops. To live in a reality that can be pink or red or silver or gold, but never, ever, dull.

And all along, this longing for adventure calls from my nightstand. The presence of Kerouac there isn't at all coincidental.

[+1 in the comments, because shooting this made me so, so happy.]