I love spending time with my ridiculous self. I always have. Indeed, the activities I obtain great energy from, walking, writing, absorbing culture and so on, often require solitude. At the same time, I get so much joy from the people that I love. And from meeting marvellous new people. I may be an introvert, but my ideal social balance is to be nourished by me-time and people-time.
In the literary context, I love a bit of murder. Witnessing such a heinous act being planned and carried out is fascinating. So my eyes lit up when I saw a story called `The Victim’ in a bookshop.
I’ve got off my posterior (I’m performing again). It’s been really wonderful performing again.
I’m writing this post in the hope that it will reach the eyes of those who have allowed their personal ambitions and dreams to slip away over months that turn into years. (I am one of you).
I’ve suffered with depression and anxiety for most of my adult life, and have been going through a rough patch of late. If you’re affected by either, you may be able to relate to the following descriptions.
Like most, I have witnessed myself lose hours and hours on trivial matters. Brain-dead trawling of YouTube, checking social media every thirty seconds. These patterns have afflicted… Read more “On procrastination”
Sometimes one finds an artist and wonders, “why has it taken me so long to find this person?” The aforementioned musician is one of these examples. For… Read more “A note on Joan Baez.”