I walked home from Darling Harbour yesterday afternoon, dreading the extensive mental to-do list that I needed to attend to later that night. I was drained and overwhelmed, not only by a never-ending array of steep stairs that stood before me, but because with every trouble that I attempted to wrap my head around, another issue flared up. I felt imprisoned within my own Catch-22 rut; cleaning up the clutter and making more mess in the process.
Today my study master-plan went awry and I somehow deviated from my desk and ended up vegetating on my living-room sofa. Surprise surprise. I found myself sitting through yet another episode of
Honey Boo Boo Game of Thrones until the inevitable four-minute long ad breaks interrupted my bliss. As I entered the kitchen and inspected the fridge to kill a bit of time, this message appeared on my TV screen, and I couldn’t help but watch.
Her ears tuned in to the dissonant metallic notes that reverberated with every snip. She tugged those Shirly Temple curls straight and watched each lock elegantly float to the floor. They glided gracefully like feathers, forming a circumference of goldy-locks around her feet. How can something so light feel so heavy?
My “About Hannah” page mentions that I have a passion for art. I thought it was time to reveal more about this part of myself through sharing a drawing of mine. I’ve sketched my face using a combination of charcoal, lead and watercolour pencils to play with light and dark shadows. Continue reading
Upon commencing a new job, my boss attempted to introduce me to their point of sales system. As she seamlessly click-click-clicked away, my thought process went something like this:
I understand, I sooooo got this under control….Hmm alright, maybe it’s harder than I initially thought, but still, it isn’t too difficult. I can get the hang of- wait. What did you click? What screen is this? Please repeat, please repeat….she isn’t gonna repeat.
What. Is. She. Doing.
….annnnnnd I’m out.
*Mental white noise*
As I simply stood frozen beside her, she turned around and asked, “Are you even paying attention? You have this dumbstruck look on your face”. Sometimes I just need to wear a sign that reads, “Mental buffering, one moment please”. It was at this point I realised, my brain is stuck using Internet Explorer while all you intelligent beings seem to have downloaded Chrome or Firefox.
When I’m in the kitchen, I act as if I’m the star of my own cooking show. I detail every aspect of the recipe to the tea
spoon for my non-existent fan base; describing the taste and texture of the fusion that’s magically bubbling away in my cauldron pot. To make it even more legitimate, I add a pinch of fancy jargon (‘balance of flavours’, ‘respect the ingredient’ and ‘the star of the dish’ are the most common), and showcase an endearing idiosyncrasy (my bum-shaking/head-bobbing/pan-stirring action) inspired by the likes of the great lisp of Jamie Oliver. Yep if Law school doesn’t work out, cooking is my plan b, followed closely by floristry.
With an English teaching mother, and a mathematically minded father, I frequently find myself entangled in a ‘Words vs Numbers’ web of banter. Both my parents exhibit extreme zeal for their respective fields, and I thoroughly enjoy how this passion surfaces in our daily repertoire. Mum’s words are always well-crafted and poetic in nature, and Dad’s way of logical deduction is admirable. I am very fortunate to have grown up understanding how both language and figures can be utilised to reason, justify and analyse.
Dad’s arithmetic brain frequently clashes with mum’s expressive mind, and it’s very interesting to witness how different scenarios and ideas can be interpreted in unique ways. One of the most comical examples of their dichotomous ways of thinking occurred when Mum attempted to explain to Dad the meaning of the term ‘simile’. It went something like this:
When I was younger, I used to follow my dad to the register at our local café and supervise his order. While most children would longingly glare at the picturesque pastries, creamy carrot cakes and moist, mouth-watering muffins that stood behind the glass counter, I instead would ensure that my dad remembered to change his usual double-shot flat white order to a cappuccino. Why? So that I could indulge in the warm chocolate frothy goodness that sat proudly above the strong coffee beneath. Each spoonful of aerated milk felt like a cloud disintegrating in my mouth, and the mellow hum of espresso that lingered on my tongue excited my taste buds.
If your only experience of Sydney is frantically bolting through ‘troops in white collars’ on a mission to attend a meeting you are already late for, an espresso in one hand, a briefcase in the other, and your iPhone skilfully hoisted to your ear by your trusty shoulder…. You’re certainly missing out. If your venture into the city involves hurdling across the Druitt/George Street intersection to squeeze in a quick Woolies run before boarding the M10 to University… you’re missing out too. Actually, if you find yourself in the city with the intention of splurging at Top Shop, waiting for a train or getting wasted at the Cross …. well, you are denying yourself one of life’s most underrated pleasures; strolling through the streets of Sydney after dark. Nightwalking. Not purposefully exploring, just simply walking. Walking without being interrupted by the hissing of morning coffee machines, the roar of city traffic or the irritating buzzing of mobile phones. Escaping the noise that cloaks our existence by strolling in silence. Continue reading
Why hello there!
I was just preparing to write my first post using the standard ‘who, what, when, where, why’ structure…But then I realised, I don’t really know how to answer any of those questions. I’m not sure what prompted me to start writing today since blogging has been on my mind for a while now. When friends, family and mentors suggested the prospect of writing, I used to offer the cop-out excuse that ‘I’m too busy’ and ‘life’s too hectic at the moment’. But the real reason why I have never attempted to write before is because I am afraid to discover that I have nothing to say. Words have always had the ability to affect me deeply, and seeing words printed on a page truly does excite me and terrify me at the same time; especially if those words are mine.
You see, I think the world has a secret; everybody pretends to, but no one knows what they’re doing or where they’re heading. And right now, I have come to a point where everything is up in the air. It’s a scarily electrifying mix; and perhaps not knowing or comprehending a meaning to it all is what makes it so thrilling. Hopefully sorting through my thoughts and witnessing my words spill out on this blog will enable me to vent what’s on my mind and witness some sort of evolution as a writer.
And now the customary dedication
To those I love and admire, to those who have believed in my abilities, to all to all who have hurt me, nurtured me, inspired me and impacted my life in one way or another: every word I write is laced with you.