This way? Or maybe that way?

For those of you who’ve been following for a bit now, you’ve probably come to realise that more often than not, every photo I post is accompanied by a bit of writing. A memory attached to that photo; a musing on life, past and present; generally something moody. I’m so sorry for that last bit, I promise I’m usually funny and cheeky and a real fuckin’ ball of fluff – LOL, see? That’s a joke. Aside from giving you, my dear reader, insights into some of my photos and the memories inside my photo book Open Up, this is all because I really love writing. Before my love of interior design (my day job), or painting, or drawing, or even photography – yes! – writing was my ‘thing.’ I like to think it still is.

I’ve been a bit down in the dumps lately in regards to direction in life. I suppose I’ve hit a bit of plateau and it’s scary. This also doesn’t help that I’m a year or two past 25 and this plateau triggers the “what the fuck am I doing?” button in my brain. Yes, after all the heartache and the obstacles, I’ve gotten here, and this is what I’m doing. But am I here because I just kept moving? Were those choices intentional or made out of survival? Am I happy?

Don’t freak out too much darling, I don’t plan on making any crazy decisions or jumping off or onto any wagon or quitting my job or moving… none of that. I’d be mistaken, however, to not evaluate where I am and how I got here.

Since moving to New York, I haven’t really stopped. This is partly due to survival mode and partly due to immersing myself into a new place, space and way of life. I really did move here to reinvent myself, and I did. Where do I go from here? How do I get there? What’s practical? Who cares about practicality? My mind is swirling.

All this is underlined by major stresses recently, and examples where perhaps despite all my hard work, shit happens, things slip through and something goes wrong. I know I won’t grow without these instances, but to a person who is already rather hard on themselves, outside criticism and reaction is tough. I don’t think what I just wrote really describes the feeling accurately, but if you are like me, you know.

As I scurried round my house this evening cleaning I asked myself – what do I want to be doing? What will make me confident? What will make me happy? And while I was able to think of a few things whilst I scrubbed the shower, writing was one of them. Expect a lot, lot more.

// February 2017, East Village, New York City.


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