A couple months ago, my mom started a new project. She has been creating digital files from scans of slides containing images from my and my brother's babyhood and childhood. These slides hadn't been viewed since they were placed in slidesheets in binders 20+ years ago.

My mom finished scanning two of about 12 binders so far. Already, there's been such a transformation. Mom and dad are re-living the moments captured in the pictures. They seem like the parents I had 20 years ago. Every time I visit, they beam and glow with pride and joy. They're eager to show me the pictures and share their thoughts. For every picture, they coo and ahh, and go on about what a genius I was... about how they knew from the beginning that I was special, and that I would be successful at anything that I put my heart and mind into.

Echoes from the past... things they said that rang over and over in my ears when I was a child. They repeatedly told me, and I couldn't help but believe them then. I truly believed I was destined to live an extraordinary life.

It's BS to me now... stuff one is obligated to tell the kids so that they don't become useless members of society. I'm suffering the consequences of having believed for too long. I still haven't gotten over the fact that I'm just your average Jen Doe stuck in Geek Valley, just trying to keep herself amused until tomorrow...

From the way my parents talk nowadays, you'd think they still believe I could make something great out of what is currently my boring and insipid existence. They believed in me, even after they realized in High School that I would not pursue a career as a concert pianist. They believed in me, even after my junior year in college, when I abandoned my plans go to medical school and become a dermatologist, so that I could sit front of a computer all day. They believed in me, even after I held on to a bum job in the tech industry for several years.

I suspect that my dad has always believed that I would eventually "come to my senses" and take over his photography business. Younger me tried everything I could to avoid becoming my dad in any respect. After all these years, I'm finally able to see the greatness in his choice of hobbies and occupations. I'm just now beginning to see what photography is to him, and what it could be for me.

Photography blends reality and fantasy in the most perfect way to produce otherworldly beauty unseen before Photoshop. Digital photographs are the ultimate product of a conjunction and co-existence of reality and fantasy. That is SO ME!

Suddenly, I realize that I would only be so lucky to become my dad... to have his talents, to have his career. And he would be overjoyed to hear me say that.

I am so sick of the nerdiness that surrounds me continually.

The inescapble and heavy aura of it here in Silicon Valley, the childish activities and banter, the immature behavior past the mid-20s and the acceptance of all of it... IRKS ME GREATLY.

Geekiness used to be cute and fun. I started becoming more and more turned off by it this year... and now I can't stand it. I don't want to see/hear it, hang with it, work with it, or emit it anymore. My own geekiness annoys me.

I want a classier lifestyle. A more stylish and elegant one. Wine and cheese. Jazz and art. Paris and Rome.

I feel desperate for a change.

I did something for me this weekend. I had pictures taken of myself.

After turning 30, I felt the need to do it, not just to document how I look before it all goes to crap, but also for the sake of vanity and self-esteem. I needed to feel sexy and glamorous again, and I figured some artsy, and heavily Photoshop'd digital pictures could help.

I haven't seen the pictures yet. But I wouldn't mind that much if they turn out less than glorious. The experience itself was worth the time and money.

The photo session took place at the photographer's appartment in SF. The place was impeccably clean and smelled lightly of male musk. The photographer was dressed casually but neatly, had a hint of a French accent, and was neither old nor unattractive. I was a bit nervous at first, but the awkwardness quickly melted away after a few minutes in front of the camera. Before long, I felt connected to the lens in ways I've only been connected to people.

The whole photographer/photgraphee interaction was unexpectedly HOT. Unintentionally sensual. I am not often the object of such intense focus or careful manipulation. Throughout the session, the photographer told me what to do with my head, my hands, my back, my eyes, my mouth. "Open your mouth a little bit more..." The attention was intoxicating and flattering. At times he would need to move parts of my body into position with his own hands. He painstakingly fiddled with my hair, took extra care to get it just the way he wanted... which was more than fine for me, considering that I have a bit of a hair fetish.

Toward the end of the three-hour session, the photographer wet my hair with water to get a certain look for a shot. And while he crouched in front of me to separate the wet strands of my hair, his knees straddled mine ever so gently for a couple of seconds. The heat upon contact was so electrifying that I could hardly breathe through those seconds. I don't think it was nearly as good for him as it was for me...

I was actually sore the next day from arching my back, throwing my shoulders back and holding difficult poses, as I was instructed to do over and over.

But I've felt changed after the photo session. I feel as if I've had a mini re-awakening. I feel ignited. I feel glamorous and sexy again! It probably wasn't as much the photographer as it was the exhilarating experience of playing a model for a day that has had such an effect on me.

It was exactly what I needed at the moment.