My squealing inner fangirl, let me show you it.

If you've read my profile, two random factoids you may know about me is that a] I am a photographer and b] that I am a music lover. I am not a musician because, even though I have heavily flirted with the piano since I was about 2 years old, I was gifted with short, stubby fingers and a basic lack of the ability to keep timing. I am intensely jealous of those who can play the way they're supposed to, but also thoroughly awed by their talent. I am always toying with the idea of learning guitar, but then I balk at the idea of calloused fingers. *shrug* I can't have my cake and eat it, too; I have come to accept it... for now.

The first time I was introduced to Imogen Heap was at the closing credits of The Chronicles of Narnia - The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe one. I felt my jaw drop as the credits rolled ever upwards on the screen and I listened to the most amazing, breathy voice sing "Can't Take It In." I waited through the entirety of the neverending list of names in order to get to the music credit section and - I'm sure you've all had this moment - frantically scanned the names rolling by for the glimmer of a song title that might match the lyrics. Thankfully it was quite easy to pick out, and from there, I ran to my computer, typed the name into my search bar; et voila - a fan was born. I think I listened to nothing but Imogen Heap for months whenever I was in the car, driving and belting out the lyrics to my newest musical love. My children began to plan their outings around which cd I might be listening to - Frou Frou or Speak For Yourself. Imogen may have even grown a tiny fan in my daughter, who was 4 at the time. I definitely heard a "can you play that again" more than once from the back seat. A friend and I were supposed to go to her concert when she came near our town - it happened to be a couple of days before my birthday that year! - and it ended up not working out. Oh, the regret I feel to this day!

Earlier this year, I found out that Imogen was holding a photography contest for her newest album, Ellipse. She wanted entrants to submit photos based on their own interpretations of a line from each of the songs on the album; twelve songs, twelve chances to win, with the prize being your photo incorporated into Ellipse's album artwork in some way. The idea was that she would be projecting the photos onto her and various parts of her house, which would then be re-photographed and placed into the album's artwork. Of course I knew immediately that I would not pass up the very slim chance of winning, and I spent a day sweating over which photos I might submit. Decisions made, I entered my chosen twelve into the competition, and waited. And waited.

The closing day came and went and a week or two later, a notice was put up that all winners had been notified, though a couple hadn't responded. I was a little disappointed at having not been notified of anything - but there were a lot of really good entries, afterall, and only 12 songs. I was bummed out for a couple of minutes, but decided to focus on the fact that very soon there would be brand new Imogen Heap music to listen to - new lyrics to learn and fall in love with. Who could sulk in the face of that, right? None of the winning photographs were officially revealed, but a few of the winners couldn't help but shout from the rooftops that their photo had been chosen, and provide links. Congratulations to them, I thought, and looked forward to seeing the end product.

On July 13th of this year, I recieved an email entitled "Urgent - re Imogen Heap Competition." I stared at the title blankly for a couple of seconds before clicking on it. What is this? It read: "We managed to miss you off the list of people we contacted and Imogen is finalising the album artwork as I type, so if you could get back to us ASAP we'd really appreciate it! Cheers, James"

Yes, commence total nervous breakdown! I wrote back, "Hi! That's me! Please give me about 5 minutes to stop shaking!! I'll get right back to you, I promise!" During that five minutes, I fought off nausea, nearly passing out, a brief moment of smacking myself across the face to see if I was dreaming, an interlude of complete disbelief [okay, where are the cameras.. who's pulling my leg here], and finally, just slack-jawed amazement that it was really for real. Once I'd gotten past all of that, I realized that I would need to send the fullsize file of the photo in question that they'd requested "ASAP" [as in, hi, we're printing the cd in 2 days], and I had no idea on which of my cds the photo might be located. That led to approxamitely 15 minutes of cold sweat, self-loathing, the search of the three computers in my home, more nausea as I imagined myself sobbing as I composed an email saying that I couldn't find the photo and they'd have to choose someone else, swears that I would organize my entire life if I could only find this ONE PHOTO, and then another moment of nearly passing out in relief once I'd located the thing. "Right," I told myself, "you can react however you need to, body, AFTER I get this taken care of." I spent several more hours printing out, signing, scanning, and then faxing the paperwork requested of me, and when I was finally able to call the thing "done," my body revolted on all of the stress and adrenaline I'd just put it through by having a horrifying migraine for the rest of the night. Even the migraine couldn't wipe the smile off of my face.

Have I mentioned that I live in a small town? That's another thing you may have picked up from looking around this blog. Population around 10,000andsomething. Deep south, Bible Belt. I don't ascribe to the hype of it all, myself, but it definitely has its perks; low crime rates, stunning country views, peace, quiet, and lots of outdoor activities, not to mention quite a few things in which to point my camera at. However, one thing we lack? Banks that will cash foreign currency. Miss Janet Wood sent me a check in payment for my photo, and I spent the next TWO MONTHS trying to cash, deposit, or generally get the funds into my bank account. Nothin' doin'. It was a nightmare in which I struggled with many, many of the humiliations and frustrations that small town life can bring. I was sure Janet was on the verge of calling me a crazy hillbilly spastic at any second, despite her being completely cordial in every email we exchanged over the two month period; I mean, we all have that inner dialogue at times, and let's face it - Imogen's cd was being launched during all of this fiasco. Not exactly an opportune time to deal with backwoods banks and their view that Great British Pounds come from Uranus.

When the album was released, I ran out and bought my copy. I had no idea what the final album artwork was going to look like. It was all kept very hush hush so as to provide maximum surprise for everyone. I bought my copy from our local Best Buy store; they had 4 whole copies on the shelf. Christ, I thought; this town doesn't know what it's missing. I paid for the cd, got out to the car, and peeled off the wrapper. Cracked open the case, extracted the booklet, and couldn't find my photo anywhere. I sat in my car and almost had a panic attack, thinking of all of my online friends I'd told to look for my photo, and WHERE WAS IT??! The photo of mine that was chosen had been entered into the contest for the song Bad Body Double, and the photo in the album for Bad Body Double was definitely not mine. I found the credits section that listed the song title and photographer for each song, and was not listed for Bad Body Double. How did I have a check that I couldn't cash if I had not actually been chosen afterall? I read through the credits again and found my name. "2-1", it said, and I flipped back to the photo and, with a huge sigh of relief, thought, "how cool is that?" 2-1 had actually started out being my favorite song on the album! Imogen had streamed the entire album from her website, and I fell in love with that one immediately before I even saw the physical cd.

In the end, I mailed the check back to London, and we settled for a money transfer through Paypal. Janet, for the record, has the patience of a saint. I would tell you that, after currency conversion, that I bought a lot of really awesome things for myself [as well as a gift for my husband], because I did do that, BUT, that would be tedious. What I want to tell you is that, in the midst of 2009 being a horrifying year, Imogen Heap rescued me. I have called her "distressingly adorable" on many occasions, and I mean every syllable of that, but also, the music she makes is exactly what this soul of mine needs to dance to. Being able to say that my photography is even remotely associated with her brilliance is ... well, I don't know what to say. It's been four months since I was informed, and I am still speechless. I am still a total squeeling fangirl; I follow her on Twitter, I sit in on every webcam chat session, I listen to her music regularly, and I am officially blogging about it all.

On September 21st, I opened my mailbox at the end of my very quiet, secluded small town country road, and pulled out a giant envelope that was postmarked from London, England. Inside was an autographed copy of the delux version of Ellipse, as well as a signed [pretty large] print. I've never had an autographed anything from anyone. I think I'm hooked.

My favorite author is Stephen King. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that something equally awesome will happen in 2010!