Category

Authenticity

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The Curse of the Perfectionist

Hmm. Two conversations. Both with men. Not necessarily rational themselves but at least willing to offer opinion where it has almost certainly not been invited. The first with Ste. One coffee in to our morning ritual of two cups of tea and two cups of coffee over the couple of hours we spend together before the day starts on a feast of caffeine and discussion about the state of the nat[...]

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Uncomfortable Spaces

One of the things I have become most aware of recently is how very willing I have been to exist in uncomfortable spaces, merely in order to maintain the status quo. To not upset the apple cart, nor to seem more erratic, or eccentric than those who know me already understand me to be. This is I think about a denial of intuition. And more, too much pride in my ability to be resilient. Re[...]

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The Facebook Conundrum

Realisation rarely happens in a flash. No, more often it is a creeping thing. A sense of discomfort we choose to ignore. A weight we barely notice we are carrying, until we come to understand that we can take it off: that very little in this life is non-negotiable. Least of all the modern day burden that is social media. It has been so oft talked about in the media recently that it is[...]

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Drastic Action + A Time For Change

I did something drastic today. Well perhaps that's a bit of an exaggeration: I didn't shave my hair off, or pack my life into a tartan suitcase and leave home. I archived ALL my Instagram posts. No biggie, right? But it felt drastic. As if I was turning my back on all that I was. Which is of course ridiculous, because I still am. (Aren't I?) With or without my own little museum of my form[...]

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Tears Over Iced Olives

I spent yesterday in emotional crisis talks. Long conversations and a bit of spontaneous weeping over perfect green olives in Jamie Oliver's. For I am tired. More tired than I can explain. I am tired and worried and worried and tired and honestly it makes for quite an exhausting combination. At the heart of my discontent is I suppose I kind of existential crisis. A sense of what is[...]