Mixtape Monday

I used to bounce around to this at house parties and summer BBQs and in sticky floored night clubs under strobe lights…It still sounds pretty good played through one headphone while laid back on a pebble beach as the waves crash around my feet.

“…look up there in the sky now…”

mixtapemonday Mixtape Monday

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It’s approaching 8pm and the sun is slowly descending in the sky, creeping towards the horizon. Two hours into our holiday and over one of them already spent running across the sand looking for the perfect pebble to throw into the waves. It’s hot and bright and absolutely idyllic and after having my face covered with the kisses of a three year old because “I’m just so happy Mummy, I love it here” I pointed my phone towards the sun and put the moment in my pocket.

sheringham 889x1024 Crash

Linking up to the B&W Photography Project with PODcast

Mixtape Monday

mixtapemonday Mixtape Monday

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All That Glitters…

nasturtiums 1024x938 All That Glitters...
…is nasturtiums in a rain shower.

Linking up to the B&W Photography Project with PODcast

Navel Gazing

Most of the time, I don’t know what I’m doing. I fixed a hole in the bottom of the paddling pool with an orange balloon and some sticky tape. I forget to send a spare set of clothes to nursery or we’re late (we’re always late for everything) or I throw some chips in the oven for tea because there’s nothing else in or I just can’t be bothered. Sometimes we have jam sandwiches sitting on the floor in the lounge…

In the evenings, at the ethereal light between dusk and night, I look in peoples windows as I walk down the road. Most of the curtains haven’t been drawn and most of the lights are being switched on and I’m nosey. There are hundreds of identical houses standing in neat rows and each one contains one life or lots of lives and countless stories and memories and a few really massive TVs and one amazing mirror and some insane geometric wallpaper.

People sit and sprawl across sofas and floors, kids run through rooms and doze in chairs. Some rooms sit empty and others are guarded by a sleeping cat on a windowsill or a dusty net curtain, yellowing at the edges.

I glance in and I keep walking and I wonder about people and their lives (and where that mirror is from) and who or what connects them to the others under the same roof, the beds they sleep in and the books they read and the thoughts they think. A dog barks and a baby cries and, lost in my wandering wonderings, I narrowly avoid being run over as a car pulls out of a driveway in front of me.

I wonder what they would think if they peered into my window, behind the voile curtain that offers no privacy when the room is lit behind it, past the garland of rainbow coloured pompoms accumulating dust and spider webs in the window recess and over the chaos and clutter that is my life.

Don’t you think blogging is a bit like virtual window peering?

We, well, some of us, present our spaces and our lives as we want others to see it before pealing back the curtains and anxiously awaiting the gaze of others to linger…Some of us throw back the curtains before our hair is even brushed, tripping over a half eaten bowl of cereal on the way, squinting into the daylight, hoping no one minds the mess.

I was talking to someone the other day about how glad I am that I was at uni before the advent of ‘real’ social media. Before Twitter and Facebook there was only drunk texting and actual physical prints of photos to worry about, had social media existed then I am sure that my whole experience would have been a completely different one. Maybe better, maybe worse, certainly with a larger online footprint of potential embarrassment and naivety.

I love Twitter and I love blogging and every single day I am thankful that I have one or both outlets because they (you) hold my hand and offer me support and understanding and love and laughter and space to be myself just because I can. I don’t think much about the other side, but there is one. It’s as real as the real people behind their windows three doors down, as real as how they would react if I was to shout through their open window that their choice of paint is fucking terrible and why do they have 343982 house plants in one room?

I tend to hit publish and run, to dip in and out of comments and Twitter and Facebook and between real life and virtual life.

And yet, I worry. I worry about posting moaning monologue after moaning monologue, I worry about writing something that could make a real life someone feel uncomfortable or upset…I worry about the people looking from their beautiful spaces into mine and noticing the half drunk mug of tea going cold on the side or that I’m still in my pyjamas at 11am.

I worry about niches and directions and if and where I even fit in when I know that really, I don’t care. I contemplate total deletion, obscuring of faces and choosing of words. I want to close everything down and then I know that in reality, I can’t because this has only ever been for me. I get scared about what I could lose and I get frustrated when I fill up with words I can’t say here.

How do I let it go? How do I make it work when everything has changed and this remains in a stasis of what it always has been?