assvice - mocha beanie mummy

The Day I Realised Why I Loathe(d) My Blog

February 12, 2013 By mocha beanie mummy 25 Comments

Everyone’s harping on about blogs at the minute. I mean, geeze you can’t go through 5 minutes of Twitter or Farcebook or Google+ (yes, I use G+, stop yer bloody bitching) without seeing “READ MY POST! NEW POST! ZOMG YOU HAVE TO READ MY POST!” And even worse, there’s more and more of that same old “if you want to blog, you should do it like this” bullshit.

And it IS bullshit.

And what’s even FUNNIER, are the “I’m not going to tell you how to run your blog, it’s all about you, but if you want to be you, you should do it like this” posts. Omfg they make me want to claw my eyes out. And the reason they make me want to claw my eyes out, is because for people like myself who are in an eternal search to Find Out Who I Am, is it goes completely against the grain.

Against MY grain.

Strangely, I’ve had a few members of the blogging community write posts about me and my *ahem* ”style” over the years, slating who I am and what I do. These days, I don’t give so much of a shit what people think. But back then I was pissed off. Who the fuck were they to tell me who I should be and what I should do? For the most part, I raged quietly (and I confess I’m STILL RAGING over one of the posts, despite the fact that it was SO LONG AGO). but the thing is, these people who have nominated themselves as Hitler and feel the need to dictate how or who others should be – what the fuck? What the actual fuck? I wonder if they have any clue whatsoever about the very concept that the whole world is made up of an interesting mix of people? Some are blander than paint drying. Others are so colourful there isn’t a strong enough pair of sunglasses in the world to protect your eyeballs.

And then there’s the whole “tone it down because LORD KNOWS what will happen should anyone in The Professional World find out what you do Behind The Scenes; NEVER LET YOUR WORLDS COLLIDE!!!!!!!!11!!!!1!!!!!!1!!!1!11!1!1!!!!”

Seriously, there isn’t an episode of Jeremy Kyle which could match some of this drama.

I discovered I’d lost my mojo, as a result of listening far too much to other people’s bullshit. And it really was bullshit, in it’s finest form.

And I’ve realised that recently, especially since I’ve been on this bloody journey of trying to find out Who I Am in the photography industry. The whole epic crap of “you can’t say this” and “your ass will explode if you say that” and OMFG JUST SHUT UP AND PISS OFF.

It’s my own damn fault. I don’t write to be a sensationalist. I don’t write for drama. I don’t write for stats (and I swear to god if people ask me about my Silent Sunday stats I will hunt them down and shoot them because not only do I not know, I also do not give a shit). But anyway, I still feared what others were saying. Who cares? Why should I care? Fact is, not everyone will like me (I’m always amazed ANYONE likes me to be honest), and there’s no way I’ll please everyone. I don’t WANT to please everyone. And on discovering this in photography over the last few months, I clapped my hand to my head (quite literally) when I realised the very same thing over here. Today. This afternoon.

I’m not saying I’ll be back in full force, or some crap like that. However, I know I’ll hopefully stop second-guessing myself like I have been doing. It sucks, I hate doing it, and I don’t want to do it any more. As I used to say when I first started spewing out the shit inside my head, this is my space, and no, I don’t care if you don’t like it.

Go read some other tardy crap on the internets. There’s plenty of it out there for you, if that’s what floats your boat.

Filed Under: asshats, assvice, Piss the piss off

It’s not easy being you, or me.

November 24, 2012 By mocha beanie mummy 3 Comments

These last few weeks (months? I have no idea of time scales right now) have been an immense ball ache. Mostly in terms of my photography, but it seems to have spilled over into this world too. I went through a mahoosive rebrand of JMP, completely changing my logo, my site, my design, even my style of photography, EVERYTHING. In fact, the only thing which hasn’t changed, is the business name (although that might not escape quite so easily in the future).

It shouldn’t have been so difficult, but it really was. Why? Because I was trying to reflect me, in the entire brand. I didn’t want to give it to someone else to do, a) I can’t afford it, and b) I’d have been the most pernickety bastard and never been happy with it. (And c) I only have myself to blame when it does all go to shit, instead of contemplating yelling at someone else. Which is never pretty.) And the hardest thing in trying to reflect my entire self and true personality in my brand, is I have seriously had to remember who the fuck my target audience is.

I spent ages asking other photographers “what do you think of this?” and ” does this work?” without actually appreciating the fact that THEY ARE NOT THE ONES I AM TRYING TO APPEAL TO. I took far too much time telling myself “be different, be yourself” and then panicking over the fact that my site looked very little like other sites (and even more ironically, spending ages looking at other sites and becoming bored because they were all starting to look the same to me).

The thing is, people, including myself, often fear something different; are scared of change; don’t like when someone sticks out. It’s human nature, innit? I get that. This blog right here is fine example of that. I’ve had my moments over the years I’ve been blogging where people have a dig because they’re scared of what I do. But that’s fine! I’m not writing to please them! But it turns out it’s a similar scenario with my wedding photography.

I’m trying to appeal to a particular type of bride, one ideally similar to myself. Now, that should be quite straightforward, but um, I’m not entirely sure who I am. Still. No, this isn’t some kind of deep and spiritual shit, far from it. Seriously, I have no idea who I am. I know who I want to be (stylish, funky, cool and manageable crazy) and I know how I come across (fucking insane and slightly messed up with little sense of anything), and I have no idea idea how to merge all this into one, acceptable, feasible ball of appeal.

Ummm….

The logo I have created is manageable, for me. Big bold colours, yet simple and easy. And obvious. And flexible. (Name, camera, done. Obvious, no?) The site isn’t quite where I want it to be, but I don’t think it ever will be; I think it will always change, much like myself. And that’s ok. But trying to convey myself through a real business? Fucking hell, that’s no easy shit. but it has to be done. I’ve been very aware of the brides enquiring, and whilst they’ve all been lovely, many of them are soooooo different to myself. Not necessarily in terms of styling, but attitude to photography, life, fun, everything. All the other stuff. One thing that I do think is awesome, is that some of my best couples have come from twitter. Not my stuffy old @JayMountford account, but actually my @cosmicgirlie account. Why have I enjoyed them so much? Because they’re booking me for ME, AS WELL AS the work I do.

I’m a package. When you book my business, you book me. My personality. My attitude, my energy, my enthusiasm, everything. Not just my camera. And sometimes that’s hard to remember, as I keep thinking I should go into some kind of “Professional Mode” whereby I’m really sensible and serious, and trying to Do The Job Properly. Thing is, I do an even better job when I’m being me. Or at least, when I’m not trying to be who or what I think other people think I should be.

Holy shit this is way more confusing written out, than when it’s in my head, not helped by Isaac reading Thomas the Tank really loudly, complete with sound effects.

Anyway, I’m wary of my identity. I’m wary of people saying shit like “no you shouldn’t mix your business and personal world”. I’m conscious of working in a certain way and turning off clients. Thing is, clients are booking me because of ME. And I won’t book them all. And that’s fine, because if I WAS booking them all, I think I’d be doing something wrong. But I guess this is one of those “leaps into the unknown”, where I slowly but surely let more potential clients know who I am, and what I’m really like.

It’s time to stop pleasing other photographers, and time to start giving more of a shit about what my clients think. Because ironically, that’s the time when I’ll start to enjoy my work even more, and start to please myself. I tiny group of other togs have been helpful as anything, and there’s no way in heaven or hell my business would have come this far without them. I wish I could offer the same to them, but as they’re all already way ahead of me, I guess I’ll just have to pass it down, rather than pass it back up. I don’t know if others agree with the whole thing of trying to be yourself rather than being an industry standard; I’m trying to shake that off now, mostly because it sucks.

Maybe I’ll stop sweating this shit, accept that I should indeed just be myself, and stop listening to the noise of everyone else. Especially as the variables from everyone else are infinite. AND THEY ARE NOT ME. Filter the advice needed, shake off the bits I don’t need. Everyone has something to say. But they are not me. Of course, when my business falls on it’s arse and I have no bookings at all in a few years time, I’ll come back to this post and eat it, no?

Filed Under: assvice, Fucked-Up-Ness, JMP, neurosis, Ultimate Stresssss

You’re a Mom. You should deal with it.

September 17, 2012 By mocha beanie mummy 6 Comments

When I decided I wanted children, I totally knew what I was letting myself in for, right? When I, finally got married and started trying for our first child almost immediately, I knew perfectly well that I would have a pregnancy filled with happy smiles, beautiful bumps, wonderful yoga poses to die for and a spring in my step. I knew childbirth would be a breeze, and I especially knew that for the first few months of Noah’s life, I would bond with someone I had created, grown inside me for 9 months. And then, 4 years later, I knew that my first born and I (and subsequent child!) would be the closest things ever to have walked the earth, to have a special bond, to love each other more than life itself.

I’m talking bullshit, obviously.

Pretty much none of the above happened for me. Did I see it coming? Of course I bloody well didn’t. Did I anticipate much, if any of the epic shit and sweet holy hell I’ve been through since becoming a mom? Fuck no. Did I sign a waiver that dictated I would never have any downtime, never be allowed a day off sick, never allowed time to rest? Not to my knowledge. Did I anticipate that there would be days when I would want to neck a bottle of sleeping tablets when it all got too much? Did I appreciate I would would feel like I was being torn by each limb and every fibre of my heart and soul, wracked with “Mommy Guilt” on a regular basis?

No. I fucking well did not.

All of this has been floating around in my head since someone actually said it to me recently. I don’t know if they were serious (I’m hoping to fuck they really really weren’t). But the thing is, they are words that at the moment (or most other times) I can’t even take in jest, let alone in a serious conversation. But having listened to them in previous conversations on life in general, I have really come to question people’s beliefs and understanding of motherhood*, parenting, hormones, mental ability and anything else you want to throw in there. The words “you signed up for it” struck more of a nerve than I realised at the time.

There is no predicting becoming a mother. There is no, NO predicting what hormones may do to a woman once she becomes pregnant, not even at the stage where she has given birth and has the child - her child – in her arms (if that is even a possible situation).

For me, I can’t describe the awkwardness of becoming a mom. I love Noah to bits, obviously, though it felt like I had to, rather than I wanted to. He and I didn’t get on very well in the early days. He was fine – what else did he know? I struggled. Uncomfortably so. I know other moms out there go completely the opposite way. Their baby arrives, and suddenly nothing else in the world matters. Nothing. Friends, family, their own parents - NOTHING. And weirdly, because I have seen the difference in myself from pre- to post- children, I get it. I understand it can be that different. It makes more sense than I would like.

The tough part is understanding it. As an outsider, I can’t answer for anyone else in their own circumstances. But I do believe it takes a big strong person to stand up and even BEGIN to consider what’s happening. Mentally AND physically. I believe it’s almost impossible to understand another person’s mechanics when you’ve known them in one situation for so long. Mostly because it’s what you’ve grown used to; become accustomed to; come to understand. Thing is, I don’t believe anyone is 100% prepared for becoming a mom, because no one cam dictate the behaviour, thinking and emotions of a newborn and a parent.

I wanted to have children. Sure I did. Of course I did; it’s one of the reasons The Mr and I got married. I wanted to bring someone into the world (and Jesus, what a world to bring them into…crap…), I wanted to experience the battle wounds of pregnancy and childbirth, I wanted to have someone I could be proud of for numerous reasons, I wanted to feel that strong maternal bond and parental instinct.

Shit man, imagine my surprise when that totally didn’t happen, eh?!?

Fact is, I didn’t sign up for anything. I didn’t agree to anything. Because how can I when I have no idea what to expect? It doesn’t matter which way any parent goes, mom or dad, I’m willing to bet they didn’t know the extent of the impact of parenting. And not even just after the first child, but after the 2nd, 3rd, 7th, 12th – WHATEVER. There IS no dictating.

Honestly? I think some people actually lose their minds when they become parents. I’m convinced they go through hormonal and physical transformations so huge, it throws them completely off-kilter, turns their world upside down, so much so that nothing is common sense any more. And them there are others who are crazy insane, and suddenly become the most sensible people upon having children. And the fact is, it was unpredicted. And none of them “signed up” for any of it.

Weird thing is, I think it would be wrong to say I didn’t have some sort of inkling. Of course I knew it wouldn’t be plain sailing. I knew it wouldn’t always be sweetness and light. But no matter what, the day that positive pregnancy test happens, there is no predicting anything that will come next. I’m seem to recall never having done sleep depravation classes prior to the last few weeks of pregnancy. I must have skipped the classes where everyone went round smashing each other in the crotch with a metal bar, usually without warning. And lord, I just KNOW I should have paid closer attention to my depression so that I’d have a good idea of coping with the possibility that I didn’t love my son as much as I should do.

I guess it was obvious that I was destined, as a mom, to never ever be allowed, or feel need to complain about anything I go through. It was clear that I should have had the foresight to “toughen up” and deal with whatever motherhood was to throw at me; despite not even being able to mentally stand up in the first place. Obviously, I should have been able to not only foresee balance but also imbalance; dictate my emotions, my strengths and my weaknesses.

Over exaggerating? Being sarcastic? Poking fun at myself/whingers/naysayers? Of course I bloody well am.

Being a bit over dramatic? Should stop whining about the bits that break me and just think about the bits that are good? Maybe.

Being blatantly bloody honest about how much of it I think is bullshit? You bet your ass.

* I mention motherhood, though honestly, I refer to moms and dads. Moms aren’t the only ones to go through mental and physical overhauls when kids are born. I’ve seen that with my own eyes.

Filed Under: asshats, assvice, Just a Thought, Mental health, mothers, Mutha-Hood, neurosis, parenting, Thinking

Darkies and Honkys. S’all good, innit?

September 14, 2012 By mocha beanie mummy 19 Comments

I was going to let this post go. I wasn’t going to do this one. But after I received a tweet last night which read:

“fuck you black cunt. Nigger go pick my cotton whore”

I thought “yeah…maybe I will write about racism and ting.” (Ironically, after I flagged it up to twitter, said tweeter has not only deleted the tweet, but also changed their name. Hacked account or not, I should think comments like that are unacceptable, no?)

A while ago on twitter, I asked people if they found words like “darky” and “honky” offensive. Me? I don’t find them offensive. In fact, I don’t find many words to describe someone’s race or colour offensive. It takes a LOT for me to be offended. Growing up, I was called just about every “offensive” name under the sun. The words were offensive because they were MEANT to be offensive.

Much like that tweet at the top of this post.

I confess I laughed when tweeters said their grannies and granddads used terms such as “jungle bunny”; I laugh because I knew they weren’t being offensive intentionally; much of it comes through ignorance (and generations of what they’ve known and grown up with). Of course, my guess is that none of my friends today would call me a jungle bunny. Would I be offended? I honestly don’t know. Probably not, because I know it would either be ignorance or jest in context.

Should I be offended?

..well that’s a whole other thing. I probably should, if we are to stamp out racism and educate the masses.

I shrug off so much of it now, because it’s almost second nature to me. The ignorance of others, that is. My “favourite” subjection to racial ignorance was while doing classical performances as principal cellist with youth orchestras. Lovely little white ladies would be coming up to me, asking “so, tell me, what’s it like being the only black person in the orchestra?” Or another favourite, whilst pointing to a small huddle of black people sitting at the back of the audience (whom I’d never met in my life), “ahhh that’s so lovely, you have your family here with you. They look just like you!”

Ignorance is an amazing thing.

I couldn’t be offended. Even at 13 years old, I would laugh it off. I had no choice, did I? How was I to explain the extent of that kind of ignorance to someone in the short space of a 20 minute interval (during which, I would much rather go off and practice a hideous solo to be performed in the second half)?

Something else which was flagged up during the twitter discussion is the use of the term half caste. I use it all the time. However, friends and strangers have told me I shouldn’t use the term. The internet says this:

Web definitions:
an offensive term for the offspring of parents of different races or cultures.
wordnetweb.princeton.edu/perl/webwn

Doesn’t say why it’s offensive though. (I should stress at this point, I already know the meaning of the term half caste; I was curious to see what other people knew). Many thought the term offensive, but actually didn’t know why they thought it offensive. Amusingly, I don’t find it offensive, because I find it to be very true. Caste is the Latin for “pure”. Half is pretty self explanatory.

Half pure – surely that makes sense? My kiddos are neither pure black, nor pure white? They’re not purely Jamaican, or British, are they? And neither am I for that matter? So how can I take offence? How can I be offended by the truth?

Some tweeters mentioned that they did not like describing black people as “black”, as they saw no need to refer to their race. Soooo…I’m in a room full of white women, all the same age, size, height, wearing exactly the same clothes – hell, they all have dreads like me too. How would you pick me out now? “The one who is from a different country than the other ladies”? (Which might not necessarily be true; genetic skin pigmentation could really screw things up for you…) I’m pretty sure that I am black, and the rest of the women are white. Why would one be uncomfortable to use this as a reference to pick me out from the others?

One would be uncomfortable because that’s what they’ve been taught. My guess is, they wouldn’t actually know why it’s supposedly offensive. It’s not offensive, by the way.

Aside, I tell you what single racially descriptive term I cannot STAND – “coloured”. For the sake of fuck – I am NOT coloured. In fact, with all due respect, white people are more coloured than me.

Embarrassed = pink
Sick = green
Dead = purple/grey
Cold = blue
Hot = red
Frightened = white
Tanned = orange *snort*

And ironically, white people will then go to some fucking extreme lengths to be brown. Almost as dark as me. Black.

I’ll ask you to stop and think about all those colours for a moment. Because what’s really funny, is I’ve only been one colour my whole life. And also? I’m not an “outline” who has been “coloured in”. Geeeeeeeze.

As my kiddos grow up (assuming they make it to their 4th and 5th birthdays, because they’re driving me batshit, bless them), I would hope that when they are subjected to racial slurs (notice “when”, not “if”) they don’t fly off the handle at whomever is speaking to them. I would hope that they are able to address the person in question, highlight their ignorance and flag it for future reference. I also hope that they understand why the person said what they said.

Understanding racial slurs and other such vitriolic behaviour like that in last night’s tweet, is actually the biggest step to lessening racism. Stop being offended and upset (I wasn’t upset last night, but I was cross; there is a difference which is important), open your eyes and see what is happening, and try to understand it. And then when you understand why people are being racist, unintentionally or not, educate them.

Until then, I’m going to take my non-pure Jamaican, part Indian ass out of here, and go feed my non-pure Jamaican/Indian/British kids before I go insane.

Filed Under: asshats, assvice, Education, Just a Thought, parenting, Thinking, twitter, wtf

Stop being an ungrateful cow and hush your noise.

April 27, 2012 By mocha beanie mummy 12 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.