#melbournewriter

[jhadengaforever]

campfire stories

I was lucky enough to be asked by small fires to write a story for their campfire stories collection <3 

Available to read online in English and Ukrainian, and a limited print edition is available to buy- 

https://www.smallfires.com.au/collections/mini-stories/products/campfire-stories-very-blue?variant=42610624331966

[ucat42]

Public speaking! I’m this month’s guest speaker for The Melbourne Writers. What information shall I divulge? #writers #authors #selfempowerment #supportingauthors #melbournewriters #carolineangel https://www.instagram.com/p/CnghPdFLN-f/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[felicityjsleeman]

Touch

You touched me

and I couldn’t tell

if it was that kind of touch

or just

girls being girls.

You spoke to me

differently

and I don’t know

if that was just you

or if I’m scared

of believing

what I want.

[radical-paroxysm-blog]

With minutes to spare! #poetry #poems #poem #poet #writing #writersofinstagram #quoteoftheday #poetsofig #poetsofinstagram #words #radicalparoxysm #melbournepoetry #melbournepoet #melbournewriter #aparty https://www.instagram.com/radicalparoxysm/p/BrcqoD3Aupl/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1mdrjyo7aq4n1

[nusrattalks]

An Immigrant’s Notes- 1

Rubayat was woken up by the familiar, deafening knocks on her bedroom door- it was part of her house help Tara’s weekend ritual to try and break down her door in the process of waking her up.

But even Tara’s absolute lack of a sense of privacy couldn’t take away from the glee Rubayat woke up feeling. It was going to be an absolutely PERFECT day where everything and everyone including the weather was going to cooperate. With an ear to ear smile, Rubayat got out of bed and opened the curtains. And just as her heart had promised, the weather was indeed an indication of Dhaka feeling love for it’s people- sunny, breezy with the slightest sign of humidity and maybe some hints of rain. Perfect.

As she was washing up and brushing her teeth, she took her time to appreciate the beauty of the mundane: the feel of the toothbrush, the coolness of the water on her always-warm skin, the smile that greeted her in the mirror, the yellow of the indoor cactus by the window. So this is what ‘yellow’ feels like, she thought with giggles.

Even her beloved, torn-in-multiple-places maxi was saying ‘I love you’ to her in all possible languages.

She giggled some more.

Her parents met her at the dining table, along with her little sister Reba, waiting to start breakfast.

“Abba, I don’t know why you insist on waiting, it’s the weekend I should be able to sleep in some more.”

“Because otherwise, I’ll have to go days before we can all sit together at the table for breakfast.” He smiled. That warm, ‘Abba’ smile that radiated the sun’s rays.

She countered with giggles.

Rubayat looked around at the table and inhaled the sight and the smells: porota, dim poach and alu bhaji with her sister making their signature porota wrap, tongue out in concentration; Amma insisting on hand-feeding her; the smell of freshly brewing tea on the stove.

She could also smell the rest of the day. It smelt like her favourite Fridays, spent at their Uttara home, with those she loved as much as life itself. Smelt like the fragrance of turmeric and Chandan on Amma’s freshly showered skin, the fish fry for the feast which best described their Friday lunches, the smell of Abba’s skin as they’d all cuddle together in bed for a post-lunch nap, and the smell of fresh rain soil. The kind you only get to smell in Dhaka.

It sounded like cars honking at each other, and street peddlers reminding the neighborhood Ammas of the vegetables they forgot last minute; tunes of the old Bangla classics in the voice of Runa Laila and Shabnam that Abba will be playing later through the day already made its way into her ears.

She closed her eyes in anticipation and gratitude.

And just as she was about to take her first bite of the signature porota roll, Rubayat heard Amma’s frustration: “but how many times have I told you not to eat or drink anything in your dreams, Rubayat! Pet kharap korbe pore ke dekhbe tomake?”

As her brain tried to make sense of the confusion, her people and Dhaka home became a blur.

A jolt. And then, Tara’s deafening knocks.

Only, it wasn’t Tara.

It was the construction work taking place in the neighbourhood.

And it wasn’t her Dhaka bedroom.

It was the bedroom she was learning to call ‘mine’ in Melbourne.

As her body tried to make sense of what was going on, Rubayat’s brain tried to provide some assistance- This is Melbourne, Rubayat. You live here now. This is your new home.

That smell you’re getting is your roommate brewing coffee and making toast for breakfast.

That sound you’re hearing is Kiss FM playing the latest hits of Melbourne.

That alarm you are hearing is your phone telling you to wake the fuck up and call Robert about the meeting in Oakleigh at 3.

Abba, Amma and Reba are pretty far away. Dhaka home has to wait for a bit

Rubayat looked around her. Sure enough, her brain wasn’t lying, but her body was taking some time to re-adjust.

But wasn’t I just wrapping Amma up in my arms and smelling her skin? How could that not be happening right now?! Maybe if I close my eyes and open them again…

And so she shut her eyes tight, said ‘Allah please, Allah please’, and reopened them.

No Abba, Amma or Reba anywhere. Just her in her PJs, still feeling the warmth of her torn maxi.

With a sigh, she made her way out of bed with a smile.

Oh, well. Another day. Another dream about home. And a heart full of gratitude.

She went in to say good morning to her lovely Greek roommate, and the sight did make her heart smile.

Family away from family. Home away from home.

As she grabbed a piece of toast and made her way to get dressed, she heard her roommate call out.

“Wait, what’s those lines you were humming last night, again?”

Rubayat felt her heart fill up with sunshine and face light up with the biggest smile.

“I’ll be home for Christmas...if only in my dreams.”

[weavethefuturemagical]

Habitual

Habitual: “The ultimate form of intrinsic motivation is when a habit becomes part of your identity. It’s one thing to say I’m the type of person who wants this. It’s something very different to say I’m the type of person who is this.”

“The more pride you have in a particular aspect of your identity, the more motivated you will be to maintain the habits associated with it. If you’re proud of how your hair looks, you’ll develop all sorts of habits to care for and maintain it. If you’re proud of the size of your biceps, you’ll make sure you never skip an upper-body workout. If you’re proud of the scarves you knit, you’ll be more…

[ht80]

Light and Lavender. : I can see it The brilliance of the light The afternoon shadows Dancing Ready to be swallowed Whole By the approaching darkness I can feel it The wind wrapping itself Around my body Around each tree branch Along with the leaves Dangling freely The cobwebs which glisten In the afternoon sunlight I can smell the lavender The freshly cut grass From my neighbours yard And the sweetness that is spring : ht : #poetsofinstagram #poem #melbournepoet #poetry #melbournewriter #poetic #westside #sundown #sunlight #light #lavender #spring (at Melbourne, Victoria, Australia)

[orendamagau]

We've just introduced 6-issue subscriptions! Subscribe now to get six copies of the most go-getting independent Australian magazine delivered straight to your inbox or door — including our upcoming Issue 7 😍⁣ ⁣ Our wonderful readers have described us as "an inclusive, intimate space for writing that is smart, honest and tender, dealing with issues that other magazines don’t always address". Find out for yourself at orendamagazine.com.au/shop 🛒⁣ ⁣ 📷 @amywritesxo⁣ ⁣ 〰️⁣ 〰️⁣ 〰️⁣ 〰️⁣ 〰️⁣ 〰️⁣ #independentmagazine #feministwriter #shopindependent_au #shopindependent #supportyourlocalgirlgang #mallbusiness #feministgift #buylocal #melbournecreatives #sydneycreatives #brisbanecreatives #melbournewriter #sydneywriter #brisbanewriter #melbourneartists #brisbaneartist #sydneyartist #canberracreatives #canberraartist #melbournemade #madeinmelbourne #melbournesmallbusiness #melbournebusiness #feministblog #feministart #feministaf #feministartist #feministmovement #feministfriday #girlbossau — view on Instagram https://ift.tt/2T2n4md

[findingselflove-blog1]

THE MAN ON THE FOOTHPATH

I remember first deciding it was time to get a job after moving interstate and of course I went large and wanted the city office job that I could commute to, because isn’t that the trendy thing to do? Regardless only a week in, I hated it, the best part about it was the fact i’d managed to enjoy a beautiful walk from my home along the river both ways and enjoy the happening of the city life as I passed through each day.  I always found my curiosity getting the better of me when I would walk past all the cafes along the main river hub seeing all the men in suits and ties sitting their discussing business while sipping espresso’s, the same groups powering through to get to the office and the fact that out of all the people I passed each and every day there was hardly any sense of expression – they were walking zombies.  I don’t question people ambitions, I’m all for living your best life because I know that’s the way I want to live my own, but a part of me saw a sense of fear in these people more so than success and I could never quite tap into why that was, I never engaged with these people on a personal level because they were rich and successful and wore fancy suits so where was I going to fit that ‘box’ when I was just strolling along wearing converse and jeans with my headphones in? personally I actually didn’t really give a fuck because even though I’d pass on my curiosity I was also expressing my smile and not one was hardly ever responded to and I thought to myself they are so focused on being the best, having the best and appearing financial and successful in their field when I could vouch my life on the fact majority don’t even really like the field they work in, but because money is good and we’ve been conditioned to think money is the be all end all to happiness and success they stay there, constantly seeking validation, approval and financial gain for what? I almost thought thinking this way was judgemental but then I also realized I have this outlook because I have been this person, chasing money in order to have a fulfilled and happy life only to constantly be exhausted and pissed off that I wasn’t living true to myself.

One day though right as I was about to pull the pin on my city job I wandered in for my last day and I noticed a homeless man sitting just in the middle of the footpath against a light post and he was drawing something I couldn’t quite see.  As I ventured closer I saw he had a pack of chalk and was just freely drawing images onto the concrete, much like I remember doing as a child, I was so captivated by this I had to stop and admire this man for a moment.  He wasn’t overly disheveled but or in a state of begging or appearing in pain, he was merely just expressing his creativity on a city walkway and even now whenever I am feeling hard done by or struggling with what I want to do with my life I just can never shake the image of this man from my mind and how much I admired his freedom and the fact he was just unapologetically doing what he does without question.

I know I have told this story probably 20 times in the space of just a couple of months and it keeps coming to me in times I feel I’m at a crossroads and I think the message is ringing something super loud and clear to me that I was meant to see this man that day, I was meant to see that in order to be creative and free to express yourself without judgement is simply by doing it, not waiting until you have a place, or people or a fancy suit and tie, just doing it, research a topic of interest, join a dance school, attend a cooking class, just start small with some chalk if you must but don’t let the expectation of society mold you into a box and close off that inner child creativity that buries deep inside all of us.  My favourite part of my week that just passed was the fact I had done a writing session and somehow ended up on the topic of hopscotch, ironically the next day I needed to take myself for a long walk as I do and would you believe there in the footpath was a hopscotch frame drawn on the sidewalk with chalk, and yes I hopped in and out about 3 times and couldn’t wipe the smile from my face.

I have no idea what it is about me and chalk on the footpath but somehow this little girl comes to life and starts to have some fun, then I truly realize its this little girl who is seeking some love and nurture and sees it in these people and these things as a way of telling me, please can we just take the time to have some fun and play? It’s heartbreaking to push that voice down and believe that without the hard work of trying to become someone’s ideal perfect is the approach I choose to take, to mindlessly eat in order to keep that little girl quiet and when I actually take time to meditate on what I need in my life right now, what makes me truly happy I always get the same response – just be you.

I know once through discussion with a mentor he asked what I like more about competition prep, was it stage or was it the prep and he even stated how much I lit up when I said stage/show time, even of late all my discussion has been around dancing, I love to dance, I love to sing (not that great at it but love it anyway) and somedays I just love to be a complete dork.  My attention to children is phenomenal and I love their innocence and carefree nature, people think I don’t like children, but if I’m honest I think I’m just a little jealous that they can have a tantrum in public and I can’t when somedays I would truly love to, they are in awe of the world and the tiniest of things but when I feel like I want to get lost in the awe of the world it’s considered daydreaming and time wasting so I carry the guilt of not being productive enough until it eats away my soul to the point I will have a tantrum, but behind closed doors because that’s not appropriate adult behavior apparently.

I know I’m pissed off that there is no instruction manual to life but I also find so much satisfaction in trying to figure it out, I’m curious, a problem solver, aware yet still manage to fall into the trap of trying to follow the footsteps of others when I feel I’d be more than happy sitting with the man on the footpath drawing chalk pictures instead, or maybe even just drawing on my own foothpath. My awareness grows from my curiosity daily and the more I come to be aware of the more I want to share my experiences regardless of how people respond, I’ve worked with coaches, teachers, friends and read books and blogs about how to structure your life but I’ve found even though it’s helpful advice, I take what works and give it a go but also allow to change or adjust as I need to because life wasn’t meant to be lived with one decision forever, it’s being free and courageous enough to change when things get out of line without fear of judgment.

I know working along side these people has been great for creativity and awareness but I find its me just following other peoples footsteps to a place I’m not sure I even want to go, but I trust these people, I admire these people and I feel like they get me, but I think it’s this trust I have in them that I just want the bonding and connection not the psychoanalysis of why I’m not where I want to be and how I can get there, when realistically I’m right where I want to be and where I’m meant to be, because that’s when I’m my best – when I can just truly be, getting lost in the creativity and expression of self through things I love just like I saw in the man on the footpath, sure I don’t know his story and in no way do I hope or believe he’s suffering in anyway, but I could just sense his truth and he will always be in my gratitude for showing me how to just be and be good at it, for bringing a smile to my face knowing you don’t have to have anything fancy to help someone and being free to express yourself is truly how you can impact the world.

[say-it-well-blog]

Magic Curses

I love this kid. I mean, I LOVE him! He's my go to for all expressions of mood when I'm liaising over email. A perfect example is the infamous meme where "How I feel when I leave work after doing nothing all day" is stamped across his face. Today, this charming lad took me back down memory lane to an occasion that I had completely forgotten. Rewind about 19 years to when I was nearing the end of my primary school sentence and, perhaps, the end of my tether. My "best friend" at school was a bully. I'm not talking your low key teasing and name calling* but physical and psychological abuse. I didn't realize she was a bully though because she concealed it with after school play dates and friendship bracelets. I hadn't quite figured out that publicly dacking me or tying me to a pole on the basketball court wasn't cancelled out by proclaiming "but you're my best friend". Yes, master! I didn't come by friends easily so I was in no position to pass up a BEST one! I wised up eventually. I started chatting with another little girl, a year younger, who was genuinely nice and kind. No strings attached. No insults shoved up my nose. But how to remove myself from the vindictive relationship I was in? The solution came to me one day when, while seated in the backseat of my parents car, I heard a gentleman let rip a slew of colourful language out of his window at another vehicle that had cut him off. Once upon a time my best friend and I had been two thirds of a trio. The third party had once used the F-bomb and my intensely religious BF had been profoundly offended. She blanked out our pal and announced that her filth wasn't welcome around "nice girls" (I know, ironic right?). And so, as Timon said, "Our trio was down to two". It was simple. My escape was planned. I just needed to find the right time. I assured my new friend that the day was coming when we would be able to freely play together during lunch time rather than just on the days that my bestie was at home sick. A few weeks went by. I was frustrated. She wasn't offering me any bait to let rip! At last, she unleashed a dramatic spiel about how she knew a boy in our class liked her but he was, like, ignoring her and the notes she left in his desk. Now was my moment to shine..."well, you should just fuck him right off then," I said placidly. To this day, I don't know where this filth came from. My parents and older siblings minded their P's and Q's. It's the type of thing that I would say now without thinking twice. In fact, I think I've used that exact stinger twice today. But back then, I'm not sure how those words fell into place. She blinked. Went beetroot red. Got up and walked off. She never spoke to me again. And me? Well, in the movie account of my life (because I'm THAT interesting), I walk over to my real friend with my face replicating that of my mysterious meme friend. They slow down my pace of course. And 'Fader' by The Temper Trap is playing in the background. And my runners are Converse high tops rather than Big W back to school specials. Oh, and there isn't a stain on my windcheater. As a side note, that same girl wrote to me while we were in year 7. She was having difficulties making friends and had decided to forgive me so I could be friends with her again. I never replied. *I in no way mean to imply that one sort of bullying is worse than another. Bullying is bullying. Name calling hurts and does damage. #zerotolerance #memorylane #ashortbuttruewritingexercise #melbournewriter

[morethanadogcatcher]

#magazinearticle writing Monday! 🐾💻🗒📰🤓 #puppyfarms #puppyfactories #melbournewriter #writing #socialmediaguy #maleblogger #petblogger #adoptdontshop

[jrknightauthor]

Early morning editing. #melbournewriter

[radical-paroxysm-blog]

My last years resolution was to finish this book and I will read it on my 3 hour transit to my New Years Eve plans. #poetry #poems #poem #poet #writing #writersofinstagram #quoteoftheday #poetsofig #poetsofinstagram #words #radicalparoxysm #melbournepoetry #melbournepoet #melbournewriter #novel #yanovel #author #youngadult #modernfantasy https://www.instagram.com/radicalparoxysm/p/BsCCxndgp9D/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1prj6oolf2t93

[weavethefuturemagical]

Frugal Friday Frenzy

Frugal Friday Frenzy: I’ve been inspired by the FIRE Movement to save more money so I’ve been sharing some money saving tips each week with a Frugal Friday Five. Here’s the monthly round-up of them!

I’ve been inspired by the FIRE Movement to save more money so I’ve been sharing some money saving tips each week with a Frugal Friday Five. Here’s the monthly round-up of them!

Building knowledge

Building my financial literacy through; Documentary ‘Playing with Fire’, Blogs ‘Mr Money Mustache’ and ‘Afford Anything’, Books ‘Your Money or your Life’ and ‘The Joyful Frugalista’, Podcasts like…

[myremarkableplace]

Don't give yourself away so freely To those who value your heart so cheaply Walk where the sun lights your way Don't stray And don't shed your tears too long into the day - - - - #love #poem #free #heart #cheap #sun #walkinthesun #lights #dontstray #stray #tears #poetryforthesoul #poetry #poetsofinstagram #poetsoftumblr #writersofinstagram #melbournewriters #victoria #sweet

[radical-paroxysm-blog]

A little prose for your time. #poetry #poems #poem #poet #writing #writersofinstagram #quoteoftheday #poetsofig #poetsofinstagram #words #radicalparoxysm #melbournepoetry #melbournepoet #melbournewriter https://www.instagram.com/radicalparoxysm/p/Br9xkqegNFy/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1agl2ywojv9bq