Author: Diane Lee

Diane Lee is a fifty-something Australian author who quit her secure government job in 2016 because she was dying of boredom and wanted an adventure. Taking a risk and a volunteering job, she escaped to Hanoi, Vietnam and hasn’t regretted it. At all. Diane now works part-time for a social enterprise, and as freelance writer and editor. One day she hopes to marry a red-headed Irish or Scottish man named Stan.

(Wanted, dead or alive: decent fucking management!) “People leave managers, not companies.” ~ Marcus Buckingham & Curt Coffman, First Break All The Rules I can count on one hand the number of good managers I have worked for. Not so bad, you say, until I tell you this: I have been working more than 30 years, and change jobs on average every 12 -18 months. So that’s around 30 jobs, with over 30 managers (as they move on and up). So say around 40 managers, give or take. If you do the math, around 15% of my managers have actually

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Ok. I’ll admit it. My name is Diane, and I’m a twitterholic. To be more precise, I’m twitterholic who is addicted to the hashtag. For people not familiar with Twitter, it is usually described as a micro-blogging site. You have 140 characters in which you can do pretty much anything (as long as you limit yourself to 140 characters!): spruik a business message, share interesting information, chat to other tweeters, butt into conversations, participate in debates, find like-minded people, search for interesting stuff, make friends, and even bring down a despot or two. (I have written a post if you aren’t

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I’m a single girl. I’ve never married, which is interesting in and of itself because of my upbringing. My mother married – and divorced – three times, and she had three daughters who never married, but all had children. Says something about the biological urge to be a procreate and to be a mother, but that’s a story for another day. I like being single. It has a lot of benefits: you can do what you like, when you like, with who you like, wear what you want, and eat whatever the hell you feel like. And spend however much

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Swoon (intransitive verb, from Middle English) – to feel strong, especially rapturous, emotion. To faint. I have been swooning lately. A lot. Not the fainting sort of swoon, but the Oh I Can’t Believe You Just Said That And It Made Me Feel Wonderful sort of swoon. I’ve found that swooning is not just limited to the pages of Jane Austen novels (oh, Captain Wentworth!), but in surprising places if one cares to look. So where am I finding these swoony interludes? In movies. Of course. And karaoke bars. Actually, just about any bar. And Twitter. Yes, that’s right Twitter.

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That word. You know the one I mean.  See you next Tuesday. Yes. That one. I hate it. There. I’ve said it. I don’t say and I don’t write it. Ever. I don’t like to hear it, and I don’t like to see it written anywhere. Instinctively, I find it abhorrent. I change channels on TV when I hear it and I generally unfollow people on Twitter who use it (where I see it most often, unfortunately). And while most followers agree with me, I have received some criticism from tweeps for this stand, including: women should reclaim the word

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Having a PhD was something that I thought I wanted. I thought that it would validate me and say to the world: “See, I told you I was smart!” and “See world! I am someone!”. I also thought I wanted to be an academic. I completed my Master of Arts in Communication Management as the post-grad student with the highest GPA (I was the Schultz Communication Prizewinner for 2008). I was head hunted by the University of South Australia to go into their Doctor of Communication program, so I was very flattered. I had also resigned from my job as a

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I have been very active on Twitter of late. What am I talking about? I have been very active on Twitter full stop! I love it because of the people, the information, the fun, the frivolity and the seriousness of it all. But I have noticed that because I chat a lot there, I don’t do much writing here. So I have made a vow to try and write at least on post every week or so. Promise!

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I work because I have to. I’d like to say that I work because I enjoy it, but that’s not exactly true all of the time. In my current job (in learning and development), there are bits of it I enjoy: the people who sit near me, the view, the having to be somewhere by a certain time, my pay check. Sometimes the people I deal with are wonderful; sometimes they are not. Sometimes the work itself is interesting and meaningful, but most of the time it’s not. And lately, I have to drag myself into the place I spend

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…or my (failed and flawed) foray into the world of romance! I had an “interesting” April, I must say. After being single for some time (and quite happy being so), I went out for drinks for a Twitter friend’s birthday, and met a man who I found interesting, charming and attractive. For all intents and purposes, I was pretty sure he felt the same way about me, because he was attentive and warm and made sure I was looked after the entire night. We really hit it off, and to cut a long story short, we ended up at my

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I tried to disconnect from my digital world one day a few weeks ago. I lasted from 10am until approximately 3.30pm. After less than six hours, I was back on Twitter, tweeting about an overpriced cheesecake I had purchased from a cafe in a less than overpriced suburb, and I had a photo to prove it. A couple of years ago, I was vaguely into Facebook. I was a blogger, so was not completely devoid of social networking experience. I had a reasonable knowledge of building and maintaining a website, which often came in handy. Then I took a contract,

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I am pretty active on Twitter. I follow lots of educators (because I am one, among other things), and without fail, I see all sorts of links to blogs and articles and YouTube videos about how to be a better teacher. I have never seen one that tells students how to be, well, better students. So to address this significant gap in the market, I thought I would put this little Rule Book together. It’s a little bit of a tongue in cheek rant, but anyone in education should recognise certain student traits! Rule #1 Just because you pay for

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A month ago, I had a psychic experience. If it wasn’t, it certainly felt like one. And it is so interesting that I have to write about it. But this story starts 20 years ago while I was at university. I spent most of my Arts degree with a good-looking bloke called Terry, who was a law student. I met him at uni, but I can’t recall how. Maybe we were introduced by mutual friends, maybe we met one night while we were out at the same venue. Anyway, the point is we did meet. We spent a couple of

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