Secondhand. There, I said it. The word is almost a slur of its own nowadays. We are meant to call it something less triggering for the sake of a jumpier new generation, I suppose. Sorry Karen, I meant "pre-loved". I felt cheapened more by the modern terminology than I had ever felt by any used … Continue reading Charity shop shenanigans
writing
Disturbed
I made dinner. That was all. That was all it took for the headache to return. Not the kids, not Frankie wrecking my nerves with YouTube shorts blaring. I had no underlying illness as far as I knew. Nothing weird that I could have inherited. Nothing. It just started. The mental traffic was there though. … Continue reading Disturbed
Where does it end?
At twenty-one degrees Celsius, Máire's blood was still simmering. It did not seem to matter how much or how cold the water, and at that point she must have swallowed an entire well. The fear of drinking too little far outweighed any concern for what might happen as a consequence of drinking too much. And, … Continue reading Where does it end?
Rethinking Pink?
I know, I know - "Another Brick in the Wall" isn't about bricks in a literal sense, and neither will this post be . . . entirely. I do however, want to loosely add my own two cents to some of the deep-cutting messages behind this iconic song (or at least, what I've interpreted), and … Continue reading Rethinking Pink?
Can we have our cake and eat it too?
Sorry readers, but this isn't about cake. It is however partially about my own beef with the oddly complicated issue of substituting animal leather for other materials, and at least the personal lived experience of this for a slightly lazy consumer like myself. So, it's a little difficult for me to talk about this subject … Continue reading Can we have our cake and eat it too?
Heatwave
She pinched the brown pine needles between her fingers and turned them upside down, tracing circles in the tablecloth like a compass. On an invisible map, she charted her course, and longed to be in some new world. Far away from blaring speakers, beer bottles and wild unruly children. Yet, some small contentment came from … Continue reading Heatwave
This world is not made to last.
What a tragic idea and yet it is one that many people have believed to be true for thousands, or perhaps hundreds of thousands of years. It is an idea that has been bothering me for quite some time amid the Western world’s apparent fixation with all things eco-friendly, not because I have any objection … Continue reading This world is not made to last.
But when the party ends . . .
What can you say? You want to say so much. You need to. But, can you? The question hangs there until dead, but at some point it will need cutting down. You draw breath to speak, then catch yourself just before anyone around you notices. You let it go and the silence remains undisturbed, at … Continue reading But when the party ends . . .
Midnight Caller
He called at a ghostly hour, and hovered outside the front door. She had seen him approach from the other end of the street, just as she was retrieving her keys. There was no urgency in his pace. His gait was tall and menacing against the amber streetlights, and he took slow purposeful steps. She … Continue reading Midnight Caller
Surrender seems to be the hardest word to me
She promised herself she would not let it happen again. This was meant to be her final flop. Then she could resolve to change all the worst things about herself. If only her temper, or her tongue had not slipped, unmasking the rabid dog in her. If only this, if only that . . . … Continue reading Surrender seems to be the hardest word to me
Ardent Writing 