08/02/2025
My birthday was a few days ago.
I’m over 40. It doesn’t matter how far; just know it’s past the age of caring what others think, and that’s a glorious age to be. No one ever knows how old I am and I only don’t get carded when my kid is with me.
I’m self-employed and my kiddo stays home with me. Nothing is mine and I have zero adult contact outside of my work. My hobbies include hiking in solitude (possibly to my own detriment), crocheting, renovating things - houses, rvs, cars… and my main activity, which is getting interrupted by my kid for snacks and to answer 6484826368 random questions.
It’s like a form of torture: being forced to prepare a small meal to exacting precision or risk atomic emotional fallout, but then while you’re preparing the snack, you have to answer random trivia questions — in verbal essay form — that you do not know the answer to.
A lot of times, when I’m in the car by myself, I drive in silence because being a mother is so fu***ng overstimulating. I only ever hear people describe being the parent of a small child as “hard” which is fairly broad and in-descriptive while still being accurate. Also, I drive a Jeep and the sides are usually off. Road noise is louder than the radio anyway.
I don’t really do social media. Social media is a trippy, weird, imaginary world, and not in a good way. Nearly everything about social media feels performative, and pushes consumption, and to be honest it all feels icky to me. I’m a minimal effort person when it comes to social media.
So, hi. Me not being super present here just means I’m present in my life. It means I’m present when I work. When I’m shooting, I’m focused on the part of the world immediately around and in front of me. My brain isn’t somewhere else, thinking about performative things. I’m probably just thinking about cake.
