I could wax lyrical about loving three day weekends (and I do!), but here’s three other things…
When you attend a school with a strict uniform policy, there’s very specific rules about how you conform, lest you be sent home with a note requesting immediate replacement of unsuitable item of clothing. The one thing Mum and I always fought about was shoes.
I received specific instructions from the Range Master to be early. Not on time, but early. He knew me too well.
I left for the range at the crack of sparrows. I was running late, no breakfast, wet hair. I pulled out of the driveway and drove against the traffic whilst listening to the dulcet tones of Ira Glass.
Baseball is finally back. I returned to AT&T Park last week with my team (once again) being the reigning World Champions. Even though the team has changed, there’s something about this field. It’s one of my favourite places in the world to spend an evening.
I have never held a gun.
I have never learned how they work.
Up until now, I haven’t wanted to know.
For a long time, this space has needed a makeover. And not just a cosmetic one. A down to the bones type one. For a while, it hasn’t felt as welcoming or as inclusive of me with a person of ever evolving opinions and tastes, and that’s because I was afraid of saying what I really thought. Why? Because like every evolving human, I change my mind. And in this new online world, your thoughts on subjects from when you were younger and far less experienced are there, searchable, for all to see. That makes me uncomfortable. But is it the perception of being labelled a hypocrite? Perhaps it is that, in part. But perhaps it’s also about the unseen, unenunciated labels I have placed on myself and the categories I have put myself in. I’m not what I once was. I want to keep writing, but I also want to showcase more than just my thoughts and opinions on living a life in a different country. I want for The Rebecca Project to be …