Linguist. Loon. Life-lover.
A work in progress, Paints poised on a palette, Unsure of their final form. A brush dipped in each hue, Strokes strung across the canvas,
He was coming home. She could sense his ship on the horizon before it appeared. The white, billowing sails. The way the sunshine bounced off the bow and back into the sky. The subtle groaning of the ropes as they strained against their ties. Every detail was etched into her memory like carvings on an oak tree.
My Trauma's Got A Trigger Finger
My trauma has a very active trigger finger. It fires when I least expect it, and long after I thought I'd dealt with the pain and repercussions of my past relationship. I know my experience isn't unique, but the old adage of 'a problem shared...' might prove to be somewhat true if I get my thoughts out into the ether of the internet. Or so my thinking goes.
Is it still taboo to talk about The Universe?
As a millennial, I pride my generation on being one filled with open-minded freethinkers. We challenge outdated mind-frames, deconstruct archaic institutions, and fight to change all that is oppressive, prejudiced, and silencing to our ways of thinking and existing. I'm proud to belong to this generation.
This is for every woman who has pretended to be on the phone when they walked home alone at night. This is for every woman who has crossed the street to avoid a man who was walking too close behind her.
Sick Moves In The DJ Booth
The night had started out like any other with my whirlwind of a friend, Jane. Two single girls in the city, headed out to drink, dance, and find their next disastrous date. The setting was as clichéd as clubs come: overpriced drinks, overdressed girls, and underwhelming men. That as never a problem for our dynamic duo, though, as a few shots in everything would soon take on a gleaming newness that was nowhere to be found when sober.
Weight a minute...this works?
I am in a deeply committed, wonderfully happy, relationship with my bed. It's my safe place. When all else in the world seems overwhelming, I know my memory foam mattress and pillow will be there to soften the crushing blows dealt to me on the daily by reality.
Spiritual Spring Clean
Every year, as the months get warmer and the days get longer, the yearning to rid myself of all manner of clutter surges within me. Usually this would mean yanking all my crumpled clothes out of the cupboard, and tossing out that Reading Festival '07 t-shirt that's just been moth fodder for the past decade or so. This year, however, my spring clean is a little more spiritual, rather than simply physical.