credit: ingrid wang
the wild youth.
by kimberley veart.
Let's
swim in our underwear, in the middle of winter. Drink wine from mugs in the
afternoon.
Let's
roll down the car windows and sing. Dance like we're drunk
when we aren't, and have long conversations with interesting strangers. Take
pictures and pull faces, not just smile sedately.
When
we're apart we can send postcards in the mail, so that we have more than bills in the letter box. We'll greet each other with all the excitement of friends reunited after several years, even if it
was only last Tuesday.
romantic dinner for one.
by hayley stockall
I’d like
to propose something that everyone should do: date yourself.
Regardless of whether you’re single or not, date yourself. Wear a new dress, apply some mascara and settle in to see a movie where you won’t have to share the popcorn.
It can be a little daunting the first time. You might feel like you need company to enjoy a movie, or to dine at a restaurant, or to marvel at an art exhibition. And it is nice to have someone to laugh alongside, or to steal potato chips from their plate. But, sometimes it’s nice to just enjoy your own company.
Regardless of whether you’re single or not, date yourself. Wear a new dress, apply some mascara and settle in to see a movie where you won’t have to share the popcorn.
It can be a little daunting the first time. You might feel like you need company to enjoy a movie, or to dine at a restaurant, or to marvel at an art exhibition. And it is nice to have someone to laugh alongside, or to steal potato chips from their plate. But, sometimes it’s nice to just enjoy your own company.
this was the beginning.
credit: mary parker
"like I'm falling out of bed,
from a long and weary dream"
from a long and weary dream"
the work experience kid.
by sonya hunt.
“I wish I could be anorexic, just for a month or so.”
This was the first of many enlightening things I overheard my work experience ‘mentor’ telling another staff member. She had just heard the news that Mary-Kate Olsen was seriously ill. She’s obviously joking, I fervently hoped.
My seventeen year-old self was designated the job of answering very personal, medical questions in the monthly column of this popular, national young women’s magazine.
guess who spoke to benjamin law.
by charlotte guest.
Warning: this is a
shameless name-drop. I'm fully aware that it's tactless and in bad
taste, but it's irresistible. I shall be telling my
children, my children's children and so on, that I sent an email to
Benjamin Law.
In
case an ignoramus slipped past security, let me toss a condescending
note their way. Benjamin Law is a writer, a writer for Frankie
Magazine and The Smith Journal, among other things. He has
also been “short-listed” (who cares what for). The only thing
I've ever been short-listed for is the Most Pretentious Public
Book-Reading Award (my entry: War and Peace).
He
speaks the truth, brothers.
there are thieves among us.
by blaze edwards
Bobby-pins, oh bobby-pins, where have you gone?
In your hopeless times of need, in your dire moments of hair assistance, you reach desperately into your drawer or handbag and find... nothing. Its the age old question: where the hell are my bobby-pins?
This issue has had girls scratching their brows in bewilderment for decades, thousands of decades I'm sure. As my many, brief calls to the 'missing persons unit' have ended in a harsh dial-tone; I have decided to investigate myself.
if i were paul simon.
by kimberley veart
If
I were Paul Simon I would never have parted ways with Garfunkel. I know I had
most of the talent, but he brought the ‘funky’ name. How memorable is Simon
without Garfunkel?
If
I were Paul Simon I would move to Barcelona because the only thing more awesome
than playing Spanish guitar is playing Spanish guitar in Spain.
I
would speak to everyone in the same obscure poetic way that I write lyrics.
coup de foudre.
by hayley stockall
“You have no idea how boring everything was before I met you.”
Sometimes a film will capture a thought, or an experience, or
a feeling that you’ve always kept inside of you and considered a vital piece in
the compilation of this person that you’re supposed to be.
I enjoyed An Education (dir. Lorne Scherfig,
2009). It was a pleasant and entertaining film full of charismatic actors and a
jovial, British humour. What’s not to love about that?
Yet there was something more to it that captivated me, and
has thrust me straight into my small hole of despair, loneliness and
restlessness, that I tend to try to avoid on nights like these. Nights when the
rain is falling ever so nicely yet the names in my contacts list begin to mean
nothing.
decipher me.
by charlotte guest
Most people's resumes
make them sound unbearably boring.
Everyone's “interests”
look super uninteresting. You just can't slap down your personality
like you want to; you just can't write “you should hire me
because I collect thimbles”. I
once went to a “resume writing workshop” which told you exactly
which interests employers are interested in, held by a woman who
looked like she'd be interested in ants.
My
resume boasts three interests.
kisses and cake.
by kimberley veart
We
stumble out the door, overflowing with laughter and noise breaking the evening stillness.
The neighbours switch on their porch lights.
Then
everybody is gone; with the slamming of car doors and the hooting of horns.
They leave me with the tangled streamers on the floor.
I
suppose the party is over now.
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