I have returned.
I feel like that’s just my catch phrase at this point. I always feel like I am returning somewhere, from somewhere else. I returned to London. I returned to Chicago. I returned to France. I even returned to Italy. And now I have returned to Melbourne, all shiny and new.
Continue reading “Diary of a Black Girl in Melbourne – Part 1”
I’ve been thinking a whole lot about telling the truth lately, and especially when it comes to my writing.
Continue reading “Committed”
I am the rejection queen. I don’t administer too many rejections myself, but I have become an expert at receiving them. Especially the big rejections – the ones that have a larger life impact, that can sway how the rest of your day, week, even year could go. And it’s not something I ever foresaw myself being able to handle really, because at heart I am a pretty sensitive person, who used to be very impacted by the opinions of others. But I suppose age and practice really do make perfect. Or they make for mild desensitisation; it’s unclear.
“Home is where the heart is.”
I have always struggled with this phrase. It sounds simple enough but actually, I’m not sure it means anything more than “Home is where you like to sleep”, or “Home is where the person you like, likes to sleep”; but that sounds a bit like the mantra of a stalker, so maybe it’s not quite as simple as that.
I’ve been telling everyone that I have writer’s block, and I do. It’s true. But it is not, as they say, the whole truth. I promised this month that my theme would be honesty (apparently), which would explain why this post is so late. I tend to live by a variation of “If you’ve got nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all”, with “If you’ve got nothing true to say, don’t say…” etc. etc. You get it. But alas, the truth will out. I’m sorry in advance for the clichés that will be inevitably continued throughout this post.
Recently I was at a party. I didn’t know many of the people there, so I was in full socialising mode. The usual introductory conversations ensued.
