I’m missing Hanoi like crazy. So much so, that when I see pictures, I get quite teary. I have flashbacks where I see myself walking to the supermarket, cycling to Keep Hanoi Clean, strolling to my Vietnamese lessons at Oriberry, chilling in my apartment and waiting for my Vietnammm order while rain pours down in sheets, taking a Grab to the Old Quarter, going out to eat a cheap and cheerful vegan buffet with dear friends. I miss the conversations, the convenience, the connections. I miss the many things to do. That’s not to say that I’m not grateful to
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This is the 17th essay in the #26essays2017 challenge that I’ve set for myself this year. I’m doing this because I’m the first to admit I’ve become a lazy writer: allowing guest posts and series and cross-posting to make up the bulk of content on The Diane Lee Project across 2016. The brave, fearless writing that readers admired and respected me for has all but disappeared. This year—2017—will be different. I’m reclaiming my voice—my write like a motherfucker voice! Saturday, July 22, 2017 will henceforth be known as the day I could have died, but didn’t. I could have died from a head injury
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This is the 15th essay in the #26essays2017 challenge that I’ve set for myself this year. I’m doing this because I’m the first to admit I’ve become a lazy writer: allowing guest posts and series and cross-posting to make up the bulk of content on The Diane Lee Project across 2016. The brave, fearless writing that readers admired and respected me for has all but disappeared. This year—2017—will be different. I’m reclaiming my voice—my write like a motherfucker voice! I am often asked by people in Australia why I love Vietnam. The answer is easy: it’s because life here is so easy. It’s easy living.
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Fuck It Right Off. After a year of wandering around in a work desert, with a brief respite in only one or two oases, I’m checking out. And by checking out, I mean checking in. For the last three months, I’ve been back in a marketing communications role. Finally, after close to nine months, I thought I’d found my home. That I could relax. Nothing could be further from the truth. After working my butt off for the last three months, putting my hand up to help out my immediate team (who by the way, are wonderful and I respect
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Sunday Best is a curated list of awesome articles I’ve read over the past week or so that I find enlightening, educational or just plain interesting. This week’s focus is not on stuff I’ve read, but on stuff I’ve written: my best posts for 2015—the ones that were the most read, and the ones that are my favourites. Enjoy! Most read posts Don’t make these 6 self publishing mistakes Published on August 7, this post about self publishing had close to 1000 views. Disillusioned, I wrote it after I didn’t become the overnight gazillionaire I thought I would once I embarked
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As you know, I’ve just returned from a trip to Bali. I went there for the Write A Bestseller Retreat at Sharing Bali. I think I also mentioned in a previous post somewhere that I had never been interested in going to Bali, what with all the drunk Australians that are drawn to the island. Bali equalled Kuta equalled Bali, as far as I was concerned. I am here to tell you that Bali was one of THE best travel experiences I’ve ever had. If you have been following my escapades adventures on my travel blog, you’ll know that the
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My sister shared some sad news with me a couple of weeks ago. Her ex-partner and also the father of her daughter—my niece—has just been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It’s spread and he’s been told has six months to live. She is deeply saddened by this news, and I felt for her, not least because I admire my sister and her relationship with her ex. Despite splitting more than 15 years ago in less than ideal circumstances, she has fought to maintain the connection with him because of her daughter. They live in different parts of Australia: he’s in far
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I wrote the first part of this post back in March 2014. Thought it was about time I finished it off! My career has been an endless succession of ultimately unsatisfying jobs In the late 1980s, I left a series of bank jobs and temporary employment, and got myself university edumacated at the ripe old age of 26, graduating with a Bachelor of Arts. I wanted more from life than just temping and working in banks and bought into the hype believed that a university education would help me embark on a fulfilling and productive Career (note the capital “c”).
Continue reading...This post was first published on 24 July 2012. Seeing as we’ve just celebrated (?) international Single Awareness Day (iSAD – aka Valentine’s Day), I figured it’s a good time to republish this post. Oh, and I recently updated my relationship status to “runner”. Nostalgia is a wonderful gift. It causes us to view experiences through rose-colored glasses. Things seem to be always better in the past, way back when. Time fades the bad and somehow polishes it into a softer, more conducive and amenable version of the truth. Recently, I’ve been feeling quite nostalgic about the 80s (who am
Continue reading...This post was first published on 1 August, 2010. Given that I’ve started my half marathon training, it’s timely to look back and see how far I’ve come. Dave would be looking down, smiling to himself and saying: I can’t believe she’s still running! Dave Fitzsimons died on 7 September 2008, from non-Hodgkins lymphoma. Today I walked 5 kilometres to honour his memory. Dave was one of the nicest, warmest, most empathetic human beings I have ever known. I knew him as my manager, a client and my friend. When you talked to him, he made you feel like you
Continue reading...In 8 months and 20 odd days, I will be 49. I am nearly 50. Half a century old. While I can vaguely see my youth in the rear view mirror, and I remember fondly how well I misspent it, I don’t miss it. Who wants to deal with all that angst and uncertainty and insecurity? Along with greying hair and certain bits and bobs going south, I find that 49 also brings with it wisdom and knowing and peace. You let a lot of things go, because – in the scheme of things – they just don’t matter all
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