Tuesday, August 18, 2009

It's about how you look.. sometimes..

It is entirely about how you look... in some opinions.

“The fact that an opinion has been widely held is no evidence whatever that it is not utterly absurd.” -Bertrand Russell

The truth of the matter is, it is about how you look, yes, but it's more about how others look at you, and how you see yourself.

There are numerous older & very continually successful models... whatever genre you look at. Fashion and Commercial genres are much more strict in some ways, but only sometimes.

Here are (http://www.zimbio.com/Supermodels/articles/t7CvTGDqynx/Supermodels+Without+Makeup) your supermodels... all of whom are in their later 40s (ish) and still working. They're still famous, iconic, and amazing because people still see them that way. They still see themselves that way. They've got saggy skin, droopy boobs, stretch marks, etc... but are still the unequaled & unmatched top supermodels. You don't have to be young and amazing forever.. just amazing.

There's also a goodly number of older fetish models, art models, and you-name-it models that are over 30 and still going quite strong.

There's no reason your world ends when your hips are wider then they used to be, boobs a little lower, or skin a little less resilient. Your world as a model simply then needs to be redefined.

Yes, for a good amount of time, you can coast your modeling based upon your youth & general appearance together, but the fact of the matter is, whether or not you've the skill and determination to retain your beauty and develop your skill enough to be in demand as your youth is slowly lost to time.

There are a number of models who will burnt out hard and fast. They party too hard, drink too much, hurt to much, and don't care enough to take care of themselves, emotionally or physically. They ride the world of youthful immortality. Shit catches up, and they learn lessons and life the hard way. Some learn enough to re-try, a new way. Some don't learn and fade away, run away, or go out kicking and screaming and cursing the world to the very end of their days.. constantly clinging to the lost yester years of their lives.

Some models age gracefully.. focusing on enhancing their skills and widening their abilities while caring for themselves. They get those lovely lines from decades of laughter and tears.. stretched skin from giving life, losing life, and loving life.. and there's something lovely about it still. They work, well and often, because they embrace their time in this world, and flourish in it. The world continues to see them as powerful, strong, beautiful women.. and desires to continue to see them as such.

You can not gauge your worth by your age, measurements, experience, etc. They're all factors in it, yes.. but in the end, you gauge what you're worth by what it's worth to you, and to those who observe, admire, desire, and are inspired of you.

My rate, Anna's rate, Cindy Crawford's rate... are all relative to each of us. Our appearance, skills, ages, sizes, etc.. are small factors in the over all whole that each one of us is.

As Raelyn stated.. you can choose to work with someone for the love of it. For lunch and a bus ride.. for garments you enjoy, shoes you obsess over, cash you need.. but in the end, each and every single individual arrangement and transaction is a variable of what it's worth to you and the person you're arranging with.

I've made $1000 in the same amount of time, doing the same amount of work, in the same genre, as I have in doing it in exchange for cookies, lovely work, and a hug.

It's all case by case. Take the dreams of art you make, the dreams of sex, the dreams of style, the dreams of torture.. and put a price tag on it. Then look at that dream again, as it changes for each shoot, each artist, each job, each day.. and tell me that it doesn't change.

Price tags are simply starting points. Pick yours.. but don't be afraid to sometimes forget that it's there. Sometimes, prices aren't worth the cost... and sometimes the cost is greater then the price tag.

Re-posted here because someone asked me to.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

In regards to "Epic"..

The definition of Epic:

  /ˈɛpɪk/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [ep-ik]

1. noting or pertaining to a long poetic composition, usually centered upon a hero, in which a series of great achievements or events is narrated in elevated style: Homer's Iliad is an epic poem.
2. resembling or suggesting such poetry: an epic novel on the founding of the country.
3. heroic; majestic; impressively great: the epic events of the war.
4. of unusually great size or extent: a crime wave of epic proportions.

... I don't claim to have "epic" anything... I don't want to be a legend because of my tits, ass, or other sundry parts.. I want to be a legend because I, as a whole & as a person.. am worthy to be so..

One can't truly label oneself as "epic". Legends and heroes aren't made because some floozy decided to call themselves such. Legends are made because a person, whoever or whatever they may be.. became more then themselves. They, a mother, a father, a pet, a child.. whoever, became legends because of their feats, their love, their honor, and their courage.

In Japan, there's a statue that serves as a meeting place for many people. It's just outside of the Shibuya Station. It's a very simple statue, honestly rather normal looking. It's a bronze sculpting of an Akita breed dog. His name is Hachikō.

(as taken from the Wiki article, which details the story better then I can: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hachik%C5%8D)

In 1924, Hachikō was brought to Tokyo by his owner, Hidesaburō Ueno, a professor in the agriculture department at the University of Tokyo. During his owner's life Hachikō saw him off from the front door and greeted him at the end of the day at the nearby Shibuya Station. The pair continued their daily routine until May 1925, when Professor Ueno did not return on the usual train one evening. The professor had suffered a stroke at the university that day. He died and never returned to the train station where his friend was waiting.

Hachikō was given away after his master's death, but he routinely escaped, showing up again and again at his old home. Eventually, Hachikō apparently realized that Professor Ueno no longer lived at the house. So he went to look for his master at the train station where he had accompanied him so many times before. Each day, Hachikō waited for Professor Ueno to return. And each day he did not see his friend among the commuters at the station.

The permanent fixture at the train station that was Hachikō attracted the attention of other commuters. Many of the people who frequented the Shibuya train station had seen Hachikō and Professor Ueno together each day. They brought Hachikō treats and food to nourish him during his wait.

This continued for 10 years, with Hachikō appearing only in the evening time, precisely when the train was due at the station.

(story continued on the Wiki: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hachik%C5%8D)

This is an "Epic" legend. And the only thing it took to become so was unfailing love and loyalty from a dog, for his owner.

Another story..

Author and lecturer, Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.

The winner was a four-year-old child, whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.

When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy replied,
"Nothing, I just helped him cry."

Love, of the most simple, and unselfish kind.. makes a legend. Of a four year old boy.

Legends of industry, of society, are created because they love, passionately, who and what they are. They strive, constantly, unfailingly, to create and inspire.. to shine as brightly as they can. They make music that changes our hearts, films that bring our nightmares, fantasies, heart aches, and dreams to life.. they bring new, wonderful things into this world, and remind us of things that were always here.

Heroes, heroines, myths, legends, and unfailing character aren't something you make yourself into. They're something the world makes you into.

You don't become a true legend.. a real, honest, and inspiring occurrence in the annals of mankind's history by screaming that you are "Epic" at the top of your lungs. You can't "fake it til you make it" at life. It doesn't work that way.. because in the end, when everyone's gone, when it's quiet and lonely.. you still have to be who you are.

Helen of Troy .. the "face that launched a thousand ships".. the "ideal beauty" of the world.. became "epic" for the sole fact that her dazzling grace, iconic beauty, and unfailing stupidity sent the entire Greek world into the fires of Hell. Deceit, adultery, shallowness, and the destruction of an entire people.. all because some guy couldn't keep it in his pants over some pretty chick. So yeah, I guess if one wants to be "epic" based solely on their face, boobs, ass, etc.. you can. Just make sure you cause the complete annihilation and horrific deaths of every man, woman, and child in your nation when doing so. Sure seems like a great way to be remembered.

So go ahead.. scream.. shout.. beg.. and cry. Run from yourself in vapid, dizzying spirals of self destruction. Never fail to point your finger at those you've created into cheap copies of who you are, despising them for showing you your failings and miseries. We always despise most in others what we hate most in ourselves.

And when, if, the day comes that you embrace these doubts.. accept your failures, your limits.. face your nightmares, and conquer them.. then, to someone, if even only to yourself.. you will be a hero. A legend. An epic story of courage and love.