Why I quit teaching
At 29, I decided to become a teacher. I was pregnant with my daughter and needed to do something practical with my Arts degree (silly me for thinking that a tertiary education would open doors! I was even sillier for thinking doors would open for someone with an ordinary Arts degree!). I had always enjoyed
The theme of my soul*
Warning: this post is a bit new-agey and philosophical! I have a theory. It is yet to be tested, and to be honest, I have no idea how this theory can be either confirmed or denied, because it’s to do with your soul, spirit, essence, consciousness… call it what you will. My theory is this:
On the benefits of intolerance
On matters of style, swim with the current; on matters of principle, stand like a rock. ~ Thomas Jefferson I was told last week (by one of my colleagues) that I needed to be more tolerant. When she said this, I didn’t really pay much attention to it, and it was only when the words
The reality of nostalgia and memories
I caught up with an old school chum the other day. He was someone I hadn’t seen for over 30 years and he contacted me via Facebook. While he has had his fair share of trials and tribulations, as we all have to greater or lesser degree, it occurred to me what a huge market
New Year, new job
I love starting a new job. Everything is fresh. New people to play with, a new location to explore, new tasks and activities to get done. New skills to learn. It makes my brain zing with anticipation and excitement. I embrace mobility. I am essentially a Generation Y in a Generation X body (although some
On cover-ups, hiding and protectionism
I had a conversation with a colleague at work today about the leadership and management in my current workplace. To cut a long story short, she admitted that she “hid” the inadequacies of her manager from others in the workplace. She did this because she was concerned about the perceptions others had of him, and
How The Italian broke my heart (the final chapter)
For the longest time the princess was miserable. She wanted the prince to be her hero, to fight for her and their future, but he was unable. He was crippled by the twin demons of guilt and obligation that the queen bee had programmed into him. He was not strong enough to fight them. Or
How The Italian broke my heart (part 4)
For a year, the princess and prince continued their relationship, and they fell deeper and deeper in love. They spent as much time together as they could, but something was niggling the princess. They only spent time at her castle. In a year, she had never spent time at his. And while the princess had
Why I am writing to an inmate on death row
This is not something I would have ever imagined doing. Or would do. But very soon – within the space of a couple of months, in fact – I will become the penpal to someone who is on death row. I will be required to write to him regularly (and I assume that he is a