Hell no, it’s not time. Yet.

April 30, 2012 By 4 Comments

Last week, I picked up my cello for the first time in 14 months. I took it to a rehearsal I was assigned to photograph, though I left the cello in the car. It wasn’t a full rehearsal, it was just the strings, but the lovely conductor had invited me to play, if I wanted to.

So yeah, the cello sat in the car for a few hours.

I soon realised I wanted to take the cello out of the car, having photographed all I could under the circumstances, but I still wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to actually play it. So I spent maybe 15 minutes trying not to work myself into a frenzy, then took my cello out and sat down.

Of course they were all really welcoming; I couldn’t have asked for them to be lovelier about it.

But it felt weird. It didn’t feel wrong, but it didn’t exactly feel right.

I mean, I could still play, and all, but playing felt very detached, almost alien to me. There was little emotion in what I was playing (didn’t help that it was Mozart, who quite honestly, makes me want to ram my bow in my ear until it comes out the other side, and then move it back and forth desperately hoping to make my own music), and there was that immediate, weird sense of playing because I had to, rather than playing because I wanted to. It didn’t feel crap, but it didn’t feel good.

I think I was always one who never wanted to conform to the dots on the page.

I think this, because I do still want to get my cello out. I don’t want to play for anyone, I just want to play. I don’t know what, but that’s all there is to it. The danger there, though, is that I’ll get to the point where I’ll want someone to hear me play (lord only knows why), whether solo or orchestral. Perhaps because that’s all I know.

I’d love to get back into playing with a band, but so much of it was mundane, and the ONE band I adored playing with stopped performing shortly after I left.

I wondered if picking up my cello and playing again would be like slipping on a pair of jogging bottoms, you know, the favourite pair you’ve had for about 10 years, which you put back on as soon as they’re washed and dried, because they’re comfy; they’re your shape; they’re just right for you.

But it didn’t feel anything like that. Not at all. I’m not surprised, but I’m…I think I’m a little disappointed. I wanted to want to play. It wasn’t there. the spark is still dull.

I wonder if it will ever come back in full force?

Filed Under: Musician, neurosis, Ultimate Stresssss

Stop being an ungrateful cow and hush your noise.

April 27, 2012 By 9 Comments

Soooooooooo we’re pulling the boys out of their current private school. If we keep them in, it’s safe to say that they would be the most educated homeless kids in the area.

Which, I’m pretty sure, defeats the object somewhere.

(I can hear the whispers now; “Omg she’s whining about not being in private school? Welcome to the real world. Geeze.”)

Anyway, I’ve spent far too much of this week crying, because I knew it was coming. Actually that’s a lie – I have spent far too much of the last 24 hours crying because that’s how recently the decision has come to light. It’s not all about being upper class and living some kind of dream life. I don’t care about keeping up with the Jones’ because I know can’t do that personally. But I’m seriously fucking worried about the future of Noah and Isaac.

I have set high standards. Very fucking high standards. And what’s more, is that their (current) school met and surpassed my standards by far. Which means I raised my bar to meet them. So my standards are, uh, seriously fucking high.

The boys have a childhood. but the balance of their childhood along with their academics amazes me. The things they’ve learnt, seen and done. The things they want to do. The things they want to know. The way they learn. The way they just behave. The way they are.

A very wise friend of mine told me they didn’t get all that from the school, they’ll have gotten it from me. But I’m still terrified. I’m terrified of letting my standards slip. Of letting Noah and Isaac down, of not helping them maintain the level of excellence they currently have.

When I spoke to the admissions and financing lady person at the school, even she pointed out how they would most likely be much further ahead than children in state schools. Now, this sounds like I’m being an epic snob, but frankly? This pleases me. Not from a “my kid is better than your kid” attitude; I couldn’t give a shit what the next kid is doing, because they are not relevant to me. But what DOES concern me staying ahead of the game of life. Of being able to maintain a standard that, when they reach adulthood, is going to see them being incredibly level head yet always reaching goals.

Being successful. Wanting to achieve.

Am I being a snob? In someone else’s eyes, probably.

Do I want the absolutely fucking best for my kids, to give them what I couldn’t have, to educate them in a way that couldn’t be afforded for me too, to give them a grounding and sense of self that will secure them confidently for the foreseeable, well beyond their years?

Hell yes.

I don’t know what the next stage is. We’ve missed all the deadlines for state schools, and I don’t know what the fees are for other independent schools. Home schooling is not an option. I can only hope that my determination (read: stubborn attitude) to succeed in life is nested within The Boys.

They’ll be ok. I know. I think.

Filed Under: assvice, Education, Isaac, Noah, School, Ultimate Stresssss

I am the most confident person of all.

April 13, 2012 By 2 Comments

I have performed on stage, to thousands of people, on my cello. From solos to full symphony orchestras, all around the world.

I have given speeches and presentations to all manner of Important People, in the various jobs I worked to put myself through school/college/university.

I pole-danced and lap-danced for 2 years, holding my head high whilst raking in the (hard earned) cash.

I have tried hard to help people where ever possible, in areas where I know my stuff reasonably well, to help them grow and blossom.

I have put almost my entire life from the last 4 years, here in this blog, hiding only things which other people have asked me not to mention.

I have kept secrets for people, knowing for sure I would never let them slip, knowing how it would feel for myself.

I have done so much.

So. Much.

And yet, here I sit after doing what I thought was a fucking fantastic photo shoot, a styled shoot no less, something I’ve been wanting to do for so very long, and feeling like shit.

I have looked at my work, and gone, in a matter of a few hours, from “OMFG LOOK AT THIS ONE! IT’S AWESOME!” down that bastard slippery slope of self doubt and self criticism, through to “Er…are you really going to put that on facebook? Really?”

It’s the weirdest, most masochistic form of self harm I have ever done.

I wouldn’t mind if I was doing it intentionally.

Instead, as I work through the images, trying really hard to fist bump myself with the feel-good factor, the fist-bumping turns into self stabbing, self harm, something which destroys a teeeeeeeny bit of me, every time. They say what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. I wonder, what about the things we think are making us stronger, but are in fact killing us?

I often think that, much as I adore my job, much as I love the chance to be so creative, I truly don’t think I’m designed or built to manage it. I don’t think I have the right structure to cope with all that comes with it. I still tell myself “Don’t be intimidated. Be INSPIRED.” Unfortunately, I haven’t figured out what to do when it’s all over and, the intimidation is lurking, the inspiration is waning and the self doubt is doing something far more obscene than just kicking my ass.

Weirdly, I wish I could take criticism. I know not everyone likes my work, of course they don’t. the world would be really fucking shit if we all liked the same thing. But how do you deal with this ridiculous impossible need to please everyone? How can I be so confident in all the things mentioned above, but not have the strength, courage and conviction to say “that’s fine if you don’t like it. Screw you, cos I like it”?

Do I like it?

Yes. I do. I did. I think I did. I think I do. I want to.

I want to remember that I did. I want to remember that I …do. And yet, as I go through the images of today’s photo shoot, I find myself wanting to bin them all because I genuinely think they’re all shit. The mighty wave of “I AM FULL OF AWESOME” is now but a tiny puddle of “Well…meh. Loser.”

I don’t want sympathy. I don’t want it. I just want to make this stop. I want to feel like I did something awesome, and genuinely feel and mean it. I don’t want to be an “average” photographer. I want to be an “AWESOME” photographer. But I want to get there without coming across like an arrogant cunt (which I do see a lot of, if I’m honest).

“Don’t be intimidated, be INSPIRED.”

And when it’s all over, and the dust has settled,

“Be inspired by CONFIDENCE.”

Filed Under: assvice, Depression, Mental health, neurosis, Ultimate Stresssss

Living The Dream. Ur doin it wrong.

March 30, 2012 By 1 Comment

This morning.

This isn’t another one of those “WAAHHHHHHHHH WHY CAN’T I DO ANYTHING RIGHT” posts (well, it is, but heavily disguised), but lately, I seriously question what the fuck I’m doing.

My job, as a photographer, is questioned every single day. Every. Single. Day. And not just once a day, but pretty much every time I inhale. And I breathe a lot, so you know, it kinda adds up. As soon as I declared myself a professional photographer, just over a year ago (that transition was scarier than giving birth), it became my dream. You know how everyone has a dream, right? Rock star? Astronaut? Gynaecologist? Mine was (is) to be a fully fledged professional wedding photographer. Shortly after 2nd shooting my first wedding back in 2010, I started dreaming about weddings. Like, full on, proper dreaming about them. Dreaming about landing the most amazing photos from weddings of all shapes and sizes.

So I decided to have a fucking good stab at living the dream.

And my god, it’s not easy. Of COURSE it’s not easy. I never said it would be. No one did.

But sometimes I wonder if I’m living the dream, but doing it all very wrong. I am a wedding photographer. I am. But am I actually now living in that dreamworld and not actually bringing it to reality? Am I missing some humongous trick to make it to reality? Why, just out of curiosity, does it feel like I’m living my dream, but…something just isn’t quite right?

I think maybe it feels like I’m deluding myself. Like, I am living the dream, but it’s not a dream that can successfully be brought into The Real World. I know in my dream that wedding photography is all glitz and glam, and in the real world, it’s ball aching slog making everything stay together without some questionable stitching (thus, not falling apart at the seams).

So is that the problem? Am I living the dream in a state of reality? Am I living the dream at all? Am I a teensy bit deluded?

Answers on a postcard.

Filed Under: neurosis, pointless crap, Ultimate Stresssss, wtf

Silent Sunday. It’s BACK. And it’s bigger, bolder AND SMELLING LESS LIKE AFTERSHAVE.

February 20, 2012 By 13 Comments

When I ditched the Silent Sunday linky back sometime in 2011 (I can’t remember when), the sigh of relief was so big, caused a hurricane in the middle of the pacific ocean. No one was affected though, because I don’t like world disasters and being responsible for mass death and destruction; it just makes me uncomfortable. The very same day that it was announced, approximately a zillion people got in touch asking if they could “take it” so I wouldn’t have to deal with it.

Ahhhh there’s the problem.

Much as I didn’t like the linky and the epic shit that came with it, I was genuinely sad to cut people off. I don’t think I fit in very well with the “mummy blogging” “community”, and rarely seem to fit in anywhere else on line. So to sever the last chunk of communication with the blogging world, being my love of photography, was a wee bit sad. However, Silent Sunday was always my blogging baby. And you know when you give birth, and have the newborn, and someone comes along with some hideously strong perfume or aftershave and leaves your bubba wreaking of that, rather than the natural essence of the thing you created in the first place? And all you can smell is the wreak, and not your lovely bubba? Well it’s the most bizarre analogy ever, but it’s the most accurate analogy ever.

Silent Sunday was not for others to take off me and leave their smell all over it. The end.

AND THEN, along came Love All Blogs a couple of weeks ago, asking if they would be allowed to host The Linky for me, so that my meme (meem? MeMe? Mehm?) could be resurrected properly, without being taken away from me. Am I possessive? Hell yeah. But if you know me, if you’ve spent the time reading my blog, if you have the vaguest idea of the sort of person I am, you’ll know why a SILENT Sunday is so important to me. Why I was (and still am) so particular about it.

There are shit loads of people out there whom I know for a fact snipe at Silent Sunday for whatever reason. “What’s the point? It’s just a photo.” Or, “Geeze this blog is dull, it’s nothing but photos and no words. What am I supposed to read?” Or maybe “Why should you have to follow rules to post a photo? Over on my blog I can do what the hell I like.” If those are your views, then that’s absolutely fine! I’m not going to slate you; the world would be dull if we all thought the same, no?

But I would like to say this. First – I’m a photographer. I can express myself very well with photos alone. I don’t expect you to do the same. Second – I’m crap with words. I’m not a writer. I’ve never declared myself a writer. If you want something to read, go find another blog. I promise I won’t be offended. Third – Of course you can blog what you like! But may I remind you that the rules do not stipulate that if you post a photo then YOU MUST link it up to something. Just saying. You don’t have to link it up if you don’t want to follow the rules. So please. Please show some (A LOT) of respect over on Lovel All Blogs.

Annie at Love All Blogs pitched to me absolutely perfectly, was bloody lovely about it, and was brilliant in “asking me first” if it was ok to go ahead. I have a lot of respect for her for that. And so, the Silent Sunday linky is back, and can be found on Love All Blogs Silent Sunday Linky, and the badge as ever can be found there or here. Ok, much like my tagline, I’m emitting all manner of crap now. So go. Do your Silent Sunday.

The Rules still apply. Why wouldn’t they? It wouldn’t be Silent Sunday without them.

Filed Under: actual happy times, asshats, AWESOMENESS, Blogging, mocha beanie mummy, neurosis, photography, Silent Sunday, Ultimate Stresssss
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