Girl wonder, freelance journalist and writer-person. Also known as the female equivalent of Cameron Frye from the 1989 hit, "Ferris Bueller's Day Off.'
You think it’s going to last forever. That sweet sour cusp of adulthood, freewheeling on your brother’s bike in the AM, keeping your voices hushed because the old folks on the end always leave their windows open and – shut up, no, I’m not going to tell you about that time again, leave it – whispers.
Embracing the facial features that form our identity
Growing up, I took the inherited traits from my family for granted. The features I loved on them were apparently not available for passing down via genetic selection; my Mum’s sea-glass eyes and Dad’s strong jawline becoming things I’d envy from a distance.
My hometown lies smack-dab in the middle of a valley. It’s a soup-bowl filling with more and more people by the year, carved out of the Dark Peak over millennia. There are two winding roads that dip out of each side (the Snake Pass and Woodhead, that veer off towards Manchester and Sheffield respectively) scooping up city folk wanting the ‘best of both worlds’.
Soothing the Soul, Escaping the Noise
Video games are, in essence, designed to allow the player to escape normality. Whether you’re talking about the scope, score, and story of RPGs such as Skyrim or Bloodborne, creative sandbox games such as Minecraft or even the rigidity and pace of Tetris — each time we load up, we are rewarded with a break from everyday life.
Reading Junji Ito’s ‘Army of One’ in the Age of Isolation
I haven’t read manga in a long time. My early teen years were spent feverishly tearing through shōjo series, such as Fruits Basket and Tokyo Mew Mew, all borrowed from my secondary school’s library. I remember proudly showing my aunt how to read them – “you go from right to left…” - when I visited for dinner a few times.
Things are colder, now.
It aches to love her. In every breath, in each day that passes, I think about our fates — rooted in flesh and fruit and blood — and rend myself anew. I think about her entry into this world. When she slipped from me, red and screaming, in the depths of that great, golden garden.
- Top Story - October 2021
“No means no”— unless you’re speaking to a film producer, your boss, your classmate, the President…Top Story - October 2021
(TW: sexual assault and harassment, the Weinstein case, violence.) Today, I visited a church. They are pretty peaceful places, and I enjoy walking around the graves, picking out the deceased’s names and trying to remember them all. This particular church is situated on a busy stretch of road near where I live, opposite two pubs and a bus-stop often used by students — so it’s not unusual for this place to attract nosy people like me who want to look around.
It Might Not Be “Aesthetics,” But Medication Is Self Care Too
After about six years of convincing myself that it would be weak to take them, I found myself in the doctors office asking for medication. With my voice wavering, sweat gathering on my upper lip and eyes squinting under the bright florescent lights, I explained to a stranger that I was at the end of my rope.
Love, longing and Florence Welch
I often think of Florence’s music as folktales made flesh. Especially Lungs. That album runs through the most pivotal parts of my growing up, from when it was given to me on my twelfth birthday to its religious replays in the car, my first iPod, then iPhone - and every music library since. I love her funeral-pyre lyrics and shifting voice, the way her songs sound like they can reach the church beams or root themselves in a grave.