Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
goodbye 2 weeks...
2 weeks of photos got erased...
it's because i was nice and let a girl borrow my camera for her blog while we were at an event. she accidentally erased all of my photos from the last two weeks. i was surprisingly not upset. i pointed to my head and said, don't worry, i got it all up here.
but see what being nice does! hahahaaaaa ;)
it's because i was nice and let a girl borrow my camera for her blog while we were at an event. she accidentally erased all of my photos from the last two weeks. i was surprisingly not upset. i pointed to my head and said, don't worry, i got it all up here.
but see what being nice does! hahahaaaaa ;)
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Hairspray & Hunger
Forgive me for this rant. I have gone absolutely mad. Just a reminder to respect your models please and thanks...
I'm sitting here with my hair smothered in olive oil and a white towel wrapped snuggly around my head. I'm thinking back to a moment earlier today when I was sitting in the makeup chair choking on hairspray for 3 hours listening to my stomache rumble. Not a girly rumble either. The hairstylist mocked it in a Swedish Chef type of voice.
hairspray and hunger.
I kind of think that sums up modeling in a way. Lately I'm finding no one cares if you're literally choking on hairspray or if you're starving 8 hours into a job. Fumes and starvation? Perfect recipe for fainting. God forbid you do faint though, then you aren't doing your job, or you're not 'healthy.' OHhh you poked me in the eye with your makeup brush, and burned my arm with your curling iron. That's ok though because it's my job...but isn't it your job as a human to at least say sorry?
Also, don't throw my head around like it's a tetherball. I'm really good at basic commands. You should see me sit, and stay.
No one cares if your hair is useless once they are done with you, as long as they get out of you what they need for their job. It doesn't matter who booked you for tomorrow and how they're going to feel about your raw finger nails and dreadlocked frizz, because they got what they wanted and that's all that matters. Did I forget to mention why my head is gleaming with oil right now? Well after yesterday I have about 4 inches of fried, useless hair. I won't get into the details but I'm pretty sure my only option at this point is to chop it off.
At what point when I decided to call myself a 'model' did I become something less alive, and without feelings?
Not all jobs are like this. I have worked with some amazing people. But lately I'm wondering if they are slowly going extinct. I am a nice person. I am incredibly easy to work with. I am open minded and I understand my job entails a fair amount of letting go. I'm realizing now that through being nice my spirit is crumbling. Because if someone is not nice back, I just feel abused. I'm learning to say no. I am tempted to start playing the role of those diva models who I can't stand to be on set with. They always leave with nice hair.
Why are we made to feel like if we don't agree with something we are not doing our jobs right? This is my body.
Don't ever forget it. please.
I'm sitting here with my hair smothered in olive oil and a white towel wrapped snuggly around my head. I'm thinking back to a moment earlier today when I was sitting in the makeup chair choking on hairspray for 3 hours listening to my stomache rumble. Not a girly rumble either. The hairstylist mocked it in a Swedish Chef type of voice.
hairspray and hunger.
I kind of think that sums up modeling in a way. Lately I'm finding no one cares if you're literally choking on hairspray or if you're starving 8 hours into a job. Fumes and starvation? Perfect recipe for fainting. God forbid you do faint though, then you aren't doing your job, or you're not 'healthy.' OHhh you poked me in the eye with your makeup brush, and burned my arm with your curling iron. That's ok though because it's my job...but isn't it your job as a human to at least say sorry?
Also, don't throw my head around like it's a tetherball. I'm really good at basic commands. You should see me sit, and stay.
No one cares if your hair is useless once they are done with you, as long as they get out of you what they need for their job. It doesn't matter who booked you for tomorrow and how they're going to feel about your raw finger nails and dreadlocked frizz, because they got what they wanted and that's all that matters. Did I forget to mention why my head is gleaming with oil right now? Well after yesterday I have about 4 inches of fried, useless hair. I won't get into the details but I'm pretty sure my only option at this point is to chop it off.
At what point when I decided to call myself a 'model' did I become something less alive, and without feelings?
Not all jobs are like this. I have worked with some amazing people. But lately I'm wondering if they are slowly going extinct. I am a nice person. I am incredibly easy to work with. I am open minded and I understand my job entails a fair amount of letting go. I'm realizing now that through being nice my spirit is crumbling. Because if someone is not nice back, I just feel abused. I'm learning to say no. I am tempted to start playing the role of those diva models who I can't stand to be on set with. They always leave with nice hair.
Why are we made to feel like if we don't agree with something we are not doing our jobs right? This is my body.
Don't ever forget it. please.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Venezia
A day in Venice...
Betta and I invade the city!
Saint Mark's Basilica (Basilica di San Marco)
Ciao!
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