I’m a massive software junkie. I love every part of the testing and writing process, and I do love trying new tech. I’m known to run beta software versions on my daily drivers because I like being part of the process but I also believe that having non-tech power users can help developers understand how their software is being used
If you know me, then you know that I’m mostly laid back, very organised and anal about time. But I’m not one of those rush-rush anal about time people, I’m more the laid back perfectionist type, the one who likes to make sure that I’ve overbooked a little extra so that I can enjoy the process, not just rush through
I should be writing a blog post for work, but today I’m just too worked up to focus on that. This has been brewing in my mind for so long and it’s about time we start talking about this: cancel culture needs to be cancelled. I’m going to use an example to frame my overall point about cancel culture. The
We do not talk about our periods enough. In fact, most of the world doesn’t talk about it at all, as though it’s this disgusting, taboo thing that only happens to a tiny population of people with bad hygiene. If men had periods, we wouldn’t even be entertaining this conversation. Frankly, body odour is a natural occurrence and that doesn’t
I drink a lot of bean juice. There is no such thing as too much coffee for me. A typical day for me would be in the six 8oz/half pint/235ml cup range, with a light day being four cups and a heavier day being eight. Let’s do some simple comparisons for those of us who use different measurement systems: Light
Honesty time. I’m stuck, I feel paralysed and I feel like I have zero control of the world around me, what’s happening to me and I am so angry. Loaded sentence, I know but I needed to get that out there. Speaking publicly about mental health is one of the things that I have been juggling from the yes to
Time is not unlimited. It’s the most precious resource on the planet, and it’s so precious that once it’s lost, it is lost forever. Unfortunately for me, I am very aware of this fact. I look around at my life with every passing year and think, “what the hell am I really doing with my life?” Sometimes I’m on track,
For my entire life, all 30 years of it leading up to this point, I have been misunderstood. I was a very different kind of kid. Most children enjoy playing and making friends and doing stuff, and I don’t really remember doing much of that. I remember reading a lot, and when I had finished my personal library, I delved
And how do you get on track? Everyone has been here: you’re either standing in front of the mirror at the bathroom sink or sat at the edge of the bed after a shower, contemplating the state of affairs that comprise of your life. Head in hands, you ask yourself what the hell you’re doing, because for whatever reason, you
Unless you read this blog or you know the real person behind the positive facade that I have built, you most likely wouldn’t guess that I have complex post traumatic stress disorder. I am very high functioning and have developed lots of coping mechanisms, many of which are practiced in autopilot to ensure that I am steady all the time.
As a creative mind with a personal history of deep trauma, I am highly susceptible to rumination, which is both a good and bad thing. Rumination can sometimes allow an ability to play with thoughts and understand various outcomes, but it can also have a very dark path, leading one into a labyrinth of painful memories and suffering. To cope
Distraction is my biggest life foe. My curious nature allows my distraction to derail every attempt at being productive, and it thrives on my inability to complete tasks… This becomes one of those vicious cycles where I’m distracting myself with feelings of dissatisfaction for not being productive, which leads to further distraction and down the rabbit hole of self-destructive inner
Writing for yourself is harder than writing for a client. Sometimes it feels damn near impossible to squeeze the words out, like being severely constipated, and there are a million and one distractions, ready for me. It’s television, my parrot, my stomach, my allergies, social media, and even the allure of other projects not related to what I’m supposed to
Sunday. The chill in the room nips at my feet as I groggily open my eyes, listening to the damp swoosh of cars as they drive by on the wet road. The lack of humidity in the room, thanks to the radiators, makes my eyes feel like they’ve been for a swim in the Kalahari. Rubbing the arid balls that
Writers can typically be loners, and I’m a lone wolf in this career. I don’t actually have a lot of writing friends or colleagues, and I don’t work with a larger team outside of my own four walls. Last year’s pandemic and lockdowns brought me to heel. I’m naturally an introvert, and beyond the few local business meetings, weekly cinema
