Ten Things I Wish I’d Learned By Now

Dad always told me that life is full of lessons, that life is a journey where you don’t ever stop learning—no matter how old you get. Late last year, I learnt that if you boil your pasta in salted water, the pasta will taste a zillion time better (many thanks to my housemate for that quick tip). Earlier this year I learnt what it meant to do right by yourself—this was something I learnt the hard way. With that, here are ten things I wish I’d learned by now.

9 August 2018
A Day in the Life of a Deaf Student

I wake up to something vibrating in my bra. There’s a moment of groggy incomprehension before I remember what it is. Pulling the still-buzzing phone out, I glance at the time: 7:00am. At least I managed to sleep through the noise of the garbage trucks, one of the silver linings of being deaf! I switch the phone off and get out of bed. It’s not the most traditional of alarm clocks, I know.

A Day, A Cherry

One cherry went in the box. I picked up another from the crate, and put it in the box. These ones were mostly plump and round, deep red and juicy. A good premium bunch.

8 August 2018
Adibah Amani Nasarudin - I'm Not Spanish
No, I’m Not Spanish

Nour Altoukhi on being ethnically misidentified

5 April 2018
Adibah Amani Nasarudin - Kids Cats and Survival
Kids, Cats and Survival

I am curled up in a ball like a frightened armadillo.

Ode by Poorniima Shanmugam featured
An Ode To My Grandmother

There’s not much I know about my grandmother.

2 April 2018
Arkamine by Rebecca Fowler

by Silvi Vann-Wall

15 March 2018
The First Thing People See

I think it all started at the airport. You know those security scanner bits that you have to go through before you can go to the boarding gate? I think it all started there. Right there. The security scanners in T2 at Melbourne Airport on a cold, July morning.

10 October 2017
Broken Glass

My partner and I have been together for three months now. He sometimes asks me to tell him about my childhood, and every time, without fail, I’m confronted with gaping years of blankness. There are few stories I can recount from ages one to thirteen – many of them are violent and triggering, and recounting them would be like clicking open a screamer video unwittingly.