Office Blog
I fell for mags in my final year of uni. I was hired as a student reporter for UNSW’s Blitz, where I could regularly be found popping bubble wrap, flinging miscellaneous objects at the overhead fan (then ducking for cover) and smacking my seat in order to expel the “butt dust” that had gathered there. I later volunteered at FBI radio and ACP. Not long after, I was hired as a copy editor and thus my foray into publishing began. I dig writing, singing, guitar playing and laughing at Mum and Dad.
Office Blog
TAKING MY TIME
- Cleo Tools
-
Print
-
Send to friend
-
-
Archive
07 May, 2009
I’m a late bloomer. It just so happens that throughout my life other people have come to experience things long before I do. In self-deprecating hours, I describe this as my being slow. But, today, I’m trying to embrace the fact that I’m 25-years-old and have just moved out of home.
Having lived with my mum up until this point, I naturally felt (and still feel) pretty emotional about severing the umbilical cord between her and I. She renders my white clothes an even whiter white, calls me constantly just to say hi and knows better than me which foods I’ll like or loathe.
Moving out of home has only amplified an inkling I’ve had for a while: I know nothing.
Suddenly, I’m plagued with such riddles as, 'Which fabric softener is best?', 'Which brand of toilet paper is kindest to my backside?', and 'How in the world do I mend a hole in my favourite knit top?!'
Initially scared out of my mind of everything I don’t know, I’ve since developed a warrior mindset. I will figure out the things that I’ve come to rely on Mum for. And if I can’t, I will find a way (read: call my mum).
Bottom line: moving out in your own time is perfectly fine and, although the learning curve is a hard left, you’ll be sleeping on your own super-soft sheets, wiping yourself with top-notch TP and stitching up your holey garments in no time.
Love,
April
View all posts