How’s tricks?

I’m on my third round of midgy bite welts of the summer, genuinely feel like I’ve lived a solid 5 lives since Spring.

I’ve not blogged any of the many photo jobs I promised to blog yet…

I’ve been working, galavanting and frolicking this last month. And no, I haven’t seen Barbie or Oppenheimer. I don’t want to sit in a dark room for hours in the summer when it’s the only time of year we have like a 15% chance of blue skies outside for about 10% of the day…unless someone I like is gently fingering me and whispering delicious things in my ear, which have nothing to do with either of those films, in which case I’d think about it, depending on the weather forecast. Quite the opening gambit. The link is to Hollie McNish reading her poem about fingering to Ed Sheeran’s Shape of You which, as a music snob, I am very conflicted by every time I read it/see her perform it, which I did the other day because August has got off to a busy start. I’ve also been dancing and working with lovely folks. I’m a wee bit overtired.

I’ve also been offered a new studio in Leith. So I’ll be back by the walk from early September.

This week’s my kid’s 10th birthday too, always blows my mind how time travels through being a parent. And inevitably I spend the few days before looking back. I’m so fucking glad I got the hell away from his dad. I know it’s not always the best for every family in the shit to split, it takes time to figure out what you should do when it feels like the end. It was the healthiest move I ever made. The person he was when I knew him was not a good person to be around. I think there’s 2 types of father, the kind that’d do anything for their kids, even potentially put themselves in the shit and there’s ones who’ll rip off their kid’s mum and be an asshole in front of them. I know which kind of person I’d rather be around. But you have to forgive yourself for the things you used to tolerate. And I don’t mind being the scapegoat. Things are really good in my life, I’m learning when to hold em and when to fold em, ya know.

Like most parents do, I reckon my kid is really beautiful. He’s way more emotionally intelligent and self assured than I was at his age but still a wee guy, slowly reaching for some independence. I’m so proud of him. It feels weird that he’s growing towards those strange teen years but I can’t wait to see who he becomes as I’m pretty sure he’ll keep being a legend. I don’t really like to share photos of him online but here’s a couple of old ones.

I took my boy of a 4 night holiday to Barcelona since I last delighted you with my mediocre lexicon.

The hotel has this huge round pool, it was mad hot (or as the sleazy waiter put it, ‘it’s hot out here today…looks me up and down… and also there is the sun. wow) so we didn’t do much except some crazy golfing and cheating at Uno. But that pool, just floating around, looking up at the blue sky and palm trees, being so thankful for a minute away from everything, feeling like Tony Montana in his massive bath. Good nourishment.

Then I got the flu off some filthy animal on the plane home and ended up sick in bed for just as long but swings and roundabouts yeah.

I had a very rare negative experience at work lately. I don’t want to dwell on it but I have been on tangents around what is and isn’t ok. It got me thinking all about different types of communication, how we show love, love languages and how some take advantage of others. Some people have a habit of appearing from nowhere when they are in crisis but rarely treat you as a friend in good times. I’m not very good at creating boundaries for myself around that type of thing but the more I write and share online and become aware of all of these things, the more I’ve realised how many times that’s happened to me. I’m done with always feeling like there’s drama at my feet that’s fuck all to do with me. If you don’t include me in the light, I can’t help you with your dark.

And while I’m at it, when it comes to relationships, just naaaah to disinterested men. Expecting to be chased like a delicate little prince just makes me think of those funny wee shoes and knee high socks on posh boys in massive old paintings and then do a wee bit of a vomit in my mouth. Effort, communication, reassurance is sexy and breadcrumbs can fuck off. There’s nothing sexier than a man who does everything he can to make sure you 100% know he wants you (and I’m not talking about those love bombing sociopaths, but steady, slow, consistent, delicious patter). Men that value connection get it and they recognise that women are loyal and grateful creatures when we’re treated right.

Grumble grumble, eh?!…All of that from a night at work. Wild.

“Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted.”

— Sylvia Plath

I’ve been appreciating the folks who show they value me, who create little gifts, who share stories and experiences, who offer acts of service, who try to figure out what I’m all about, who don’t judge…I’ve had times when I think things have been lost in translation, where I’ve felt I let people down cos I’ve not been fully aware of the conversations we were having. Probably happens more for us creepy types who get a bit creative with communication then forget to actually just talk. I don’t want to go back to that horrific feeling of letting someone down through miscommunication so that’s a huge part of why I write all of this. I needed to push myself into being a better communicator, to understand myself better and to be able to love others better.

The more I read about neurodivergence, about rejection sensitivity and about dissociating the more I forgive myself for past situations and feel better placed for future ones. I’ve always been fascinated by human psychology but probably never really been that aware of my own neurodivergence. I always just kind of internalised things as personal failings. I think ND folks are consistently told we’re doing things wrong and how we feel is too much and that we take things too personally. Space cadet. Lazy. Rocket. Weirdo. Whatever…Many of us need to give ourselves a break and also maybe be more patient with folks sometimes. But then there’s a big difference between letting people walk all over us and finding where we put our boundaries around communication. I realise sometimes we’re all crap at communicating, sometimes we’re just fully in the shit and need time to figure out what we want, who we want to grow to be, what that entails. I’ve got a new quest for myself, I reach out once or twice and if I get nothing back I let it go. So any pals who haven’t seen me in ages reading this and realising, yeah, it’s cos you never got back in touch to make plans to rant/dance/rob billionaires on space stations and it’s your turn. We all know now so you better make an adventure that’s worth the wait, yeah.

Right, so schools go back next week and I move into the studio soon. It’ll be good to not be sat in the corner of my bedroom staring at photos of folks kissing like some creepy wee boy. I’ll get to posting all the new summer work and Autumn is quieter with bookings so I’m here for portraits, editorials, brand shoots and collaborations. I’m shooting an event this week with a jeweller who’s work I love, it’s full of mysticism and surrealism. I’ve got some wedding editing and gigs coming up, elopements to help plan and the usual juggle but it all feels a bit less frantic and more manageable. I feel like I’m in a way better place still, feeling calm and happy, letting things flow, excited for what the rest of the year is bringing.

I feel like I'd like to throw all my clothes out the window, whitewash my flat from floor to ceiling, shave all my hair off and start again from the very beginning x