Snowboarding injury. My clumsiness hasn't changed.
Today in 1889 female journalist Nelly Bly began her successful attempt to circumnavigate the globe in 80 days. She beat it by eight days and back in 2004 I beat it by ten days. To be fair technology in the 115 years between our voyages might have made my trip a little bit easier. As per Instagram it seems that Thursdays are Throwback Thursdays these days. So as a result I visited my very first blog...my travelpod blog about my trip around the world. What a trip down memory lane! I suppose then I'll share some snaps. Between my London departure and return, my journey included surfing in Bali, museums in Melbourne, snowboarding in New Zealand (inevitable injury included), suffering from the flu in Sydney, beaching in Hawaii, loving Los Angeles, losing money in Las Vegas, locked in Alcatraz in San Francisco, mooching around Miami and burning around Bermuda on a moped. Beautiful memories were made. Celebrating my past today and the future adventures to come.
Oh Britain, how you confuse me with your rapid weather changes. An hour ago there was lightning, thunder and torrential rain. Now as I type the sunshine is warming my sitting room. Clearly this makes my outfit planning for the day very difficult, but despite this I cannot be annoyed with you. After all, I can't blame myself for my day-to-day moods, nor can I blame the gods for the emotional mirror the weather provides. Today is a good day. Nothing has happened. Either eventfully or emotionally. Sometimes silence and solitude is all I need for serenity. “Do not be angry with the rain; it simply does not know how to fall upwards.” ― Vladimir Nabokov
I've been negligent, I know. It's not just you, YOC, it's every piece of writing in my life. I'm suffering from the dreaded...dun dun dun...WRITER'S BLOCK. I'm not even sure if that's the right terminology for what I'm experiencing, because actually it's more that I'm hating everything I've written in the past. Since losing my laptop I haven't written a single new word of The Hardest Part, my novel-in-progress. Likely because I lost the last 15-20 pages and I'm resentful. It's been stagnating on page 287 or whatever for two months and I now think I hate it. There are parts of it that I love (usually individual sentences), and I know what I'm trying to do, but I'm just not executing it in the right way. I keep opening the manuscript, reading it, becoming exasperated and deciding that before I make drastic changes or toss the whole thing I'll leave it a few days until I'm in a better mood. The thing is I've bee…
After a year’s unintended break,
I am drawn back to The Year of Celebration.
Today, on my late father’s birthday, I pored through emails, articles,
photographs, essays, newspaper clippings and videos. I feasted on his life. The
portion I spent with him and the portion before me. I don’t reserve that purely
for his birthday of course, but on March 4th I always celebrate him,
because often I just can’t. Sometimes, even now, the pain is too great and to remember
him is to remember that he’s gone. And when I lost him, I did everything I could
to lose myself.
I learned many things from my dad. He was my greatest teacher,
both in life and in death. His life story rivalled the best of any Shakespearean
drama, but if I could condense it into one soundbite, his birthday sums it up: March
Forth. It’s not just a date in the calendar, it’s a direction – to do
something, to go somewhere. My grief and depression following his death was the launch
pad for The Year of Celebration. I needed
to find some…