Four completely unrelated things:

1. Over the next four days, I have three different photo gigs: some active family portraits for friends, an actor headshot client, and then more family portraits and a solo set. I’ll be up north with Jane & Co. for two of those days.

I have also finally given up utterly on being able to depnd on natural light for shooting in Seattle. It felt really ridiculous to have to say to my headshot client that most days were fine for me, but that she’d need to find one when she could be here between 11 and 2, because there wasn’t any other time I could even hold out hope of having light. And even between those hours, it’s a crapshoot, especially if I want or need to do anything other than very creative work with available light or single-source light.

So, second half of my book advance in hand, I finally broke down this afternoon and just bought a bunch of lights, stands and reflectors, and closed my eyes when pressing the “complete order” button since the cost made me want to vomit. I needed another good write-off as we’re getting close to the end of the year, so it’s fine, but it’s so easy to take for granted that when you work digitally, your overhead costs for producing art are often exactly none that when you do have typical art costs it’s a serious bummer.

This is one of two reasons — the other being that I utterly sucked at it — that Heather did not become a painter.

Glad for the photo work en masse, though. One of the nicest things about working in several arenas is that stepping out of one and into the other for a spell tends to defrag one’s brain quite nicely.

2. It also gets me away from Scarleteen for a couple of days, for the most part. We just had one of my very least favorite kinds of posts, which thankfully, we don’t get too often, but we get them often enough, and even one is too many.

Women asking me how to work things out in a relationship — and stick with it — once their partner has raped them is just TOO MUCH. (And unfortunately, “No,” or “Get the hell OUT of there,” or “No, a person who rapes you does NOT love you,” or any such sensible advice very rarely works.)

3. It really sucks to wake up and realize that that extra pack of cigarettes you had were a figment of your imagination.

4. I am very much trying to get used to Mark’s new habit, when taking the dog out for a walk, of launching into a filk of “Get Your Freak On,” which replaces “freak” with “poop.” Each evening this happens, I am hoping that the serenade stops once he’s outside the door, but I’ve never peeked out to listen, because if it doesn’t, I just couldn’t bear the neighbors looking at me with well-deserved pity.

filed under Heather Corinna | home
posted on Saturday, December 9th, 2006 at 9:23 am

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