You’ve come to the frankest page on this site, the one thing hardest to write because really, who gives a shit.
OK so it’s hard to write because I always figured I’ll take myself to the grave in the most literal sense - my brain, my mind, me. I’ve spent a good thirty odd years trying to keep myself private and only letting the surface bits touch the world. I was happy with that and I think I still am. But it’s a comfort zone. And comfort zones are the scariest things in the world.
For the first few years of my working career I chased dreams and passions, but I abandoned them to hobbies when I realised that while it put food (not as much as I would've liked) on the table, I wasn’t that person whose dreams (acting?) and passions (photography) made me whole. I wanted conflict, the unknown, to learn something else, be somebody else. That realisation took me on a journey that I never could expect, and I achieved things younger me never thought I would.
But then I quickly hit a plateau (mid-life crisis). When I stepped out of that shining light for a minute I realised that oh dear, I’d been living in a comfort zone I created, decorated with the latest hipster interiors, and was very happy with. I was doing great, probably had a few more years of wonderful things I could do, but I wasn’t growing anymore in the way that younger me hungered after. I’d stopped being challenged, and I'd stopped challenging myself.
Somewhere during that time I got attracted to doing things the easy way, the popular way, gotten comfortable with a known set of rules. A rat race keeps you focused, but it doesn’t really evolve you. A part of me forgot how to travel, how to photograph, how to feel the world like I used to and make memories for me, not for anyone else. When I quit my last job where I'd been for four years, it was a breath of fresh air. I suddenly felt released from a stereotype, a character that I'd moulded myself into to so I could make the days seem meaningful.
This site came into being somewhere during that period after, a short sabbatical of my trying to find my feet again. It’s a recovery process, a slow introspective performance art piece I’m using to unlock my thoughts, run screaming from anything that looks like a comfort zone, perhaps record the shifting sands of my person as it changes to become something else again. Sometimes called growing up.