tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73756641358749787802012-02-24T13:46:32.139-08:00:: life is an experiment in connecting hearts ::Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comBlogger911100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-23320231822477143322012-02-23T18:27:00.001-08:002012-02-23T18:27:50.854-08:00

I can haz tongue, says Buddy Batcat Anatole France would be pleased.  A part of my soul has finally been awakened after falling head over heels in love with six pounds worth of aging cat. At 36, I finally became a pet parent - a term I would have previously scoffed at had I even known it existed - and my heart grew all fuzzy. Enter one plucky moggy known as Buddy Batcat and the

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-9941277933610504962012-02-22T15:24:00.000-08:002012-02-23T18:24:05.550-08:00

Letters pouring out, by Richard J. Evans Were I a country, I would know better than to broadcast these news, for my own good. Why provide the world with a map of your weak spots when all your defenses are crumbling? Too many Ds lately, so many Ds that crass jokes about bra cup sizes would have seemed obscene, misplaced. D is for death: no matter how prepared we are for this, we'll

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-47720646262872204142012-02-14T11:48:00.001-08:002012-02-14T11:48:47.241-08:00

Human and feline life partners - they came as a bundle. If I wrote you a love letter then I would want the whole world to see it. Because every time I look at you, my heart sprouts jet engines. Because meeting you felt like coming home. There you go.

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-35741604454747165042012-02-02T00:00:00.000-08:002012-02-02T13:33:17.021-08:00

Tears of hope, tears of joy at HUC-JIR Crying. I have been doing a lot of that over the last month, unashamedly. Because love has shown me that it's OK to be vulnerable, it's OK to admit to being overwhelmed, it's OK to be me, flakey, confused, fountain-faced Hannah. Happiness has had the unexpected side effect of dredging up a lot of ancient crud and unblocking a heart that had been

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-37576133008588849762012-02-01T09:54:00.001-08:002012-02-09T14:18:24.001-08:00

Snapshot of happiness, by me Ways in which wonderment occurs, daily: + the cat's memory fur delivering the smell of a freshly bathed, shaved and lotioned beloved throughout the day + nightly audio cross-species sandwich: snoring to the right, purring to the left, happy sighs in the middle + repurposed business cards and salvaged sticky notes + blushing, a lot + playfulness

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-8080966620765377142012-01-30T14:48:00.000-08:002012-01-30T14:50:34.219-08:00

Delicate souls, look away now... If there is one constant in my nomadic life, it is the ongoing struggle with all things plumbing. Wherever I may be, shoddy workmanship, wonky pipes and temperamental toilets will find me. In no particular order, a previous downstairs neighbor has had to have her apartment entirely redecorated - twice - after the one pipe in my kitchen burst; electric

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-61457643680223045072012-01-19T14:35:00.000-08:002012-01-19T22:51:49.562-08:00

The feline matchmaker also known as @BuddyBatcat Only eleven months to go. Only eleven months until we can wheel out the Christmas box containing all the little ornaments and the Spiderman collector figure that may or may not get festive exposure this year. I am blinking in disbelief as I type. "Do you mean... do you mean I can now look forward to Christmas?", I asked Someone last night

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-79670469658525901092012-01-13T23:22:00.001-08:002012-01-13T23:22:59.575-08:00

Cathedral of junk, Austin, TX Already, happiness is slipping through my fingers like sand. And I don't know what to do to stop it from turning its back on me again, this time for reasons so petty they defy understanding. Last week, an Islandish newspaper asked me what it was like to be a foreigner on the island and requested I write an extended op-ed on a topic I had only previously pawed

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-5728506513118854032012-01-12T14:46:00.000-08:002012-01-27T15:03:36.189-08:00

Tampon rocket via Tacky Living  It's not every day that you get to extol the virtues of fingers in the personal hygiene aisle of a superstore. On Sunday, America made me do just that, much to the amusement of a somewhat uncomfortable Mistah who probably wondered how filthy I could get, and in public at that. I was looking for tampons and panty liners. So like the progressive couple that

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-49459141447309799132012-01-06T12:36:00.002-08:002012-01-06T12:37:09.696-08:00

Rain on my parade, by Dave Issod It is the middle of the night but I am watching the clock crawl painfully towards the hour when civilians arrive at their desk at the cop shop.  Or more precisely, at the main police station of the island where I lived for almost three years until the end of August. On Wednesday, a postcard requesting me to report to the station at 9AM today arrived at the

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-62884956081776373602012-01-03T15:14:00.004-08:002012-01-04T14:11:51.499-08:00

Happiness hides in the oddest places... My future was written on the fridge door. For almost three years on the island, a Seattle magnet marked the gateway to lunch, breakfast and dinner and "I hear the blues a-calling tossed salad and scrambled eggs" was what I generally hummed when in the kitchen. Until Christmas Day however, I had never been to Seattle. In fact, it wasn't until early

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-86172172360632942132011-12-25T14:11:00.000-08:002012-01-04T14:11:45.257-08:00

I am a journalist - I trade in facts, not fiction. And yet, the best part of my job is telling stories, the stories of ordinary people living extraordinary lives.  When Declan Gordon asked me if I could pen something festive for the holidays, my Christmas track record almost made me refuse. Then life had its way and magic happened so I stepped back, moosed myself up and wrote A

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-23894584495426992312011-12-19T19:28:00.000-08:002012-01-09T13:05:34.314-08:00

Slipping through our fingers... Disney's seven dwarves sitting under the Christmas tree and on a ledge down the corridor make me wonder whether this is the right place. Suddenly, a desperate wail shatters the dull hum of barely audible televisions. "Mommy! Mommy! Help me, please help me!", cries a voice the other side of the wall as I fidget uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. Gran

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-538086706121367582011-12-16T16:30:00.000-08:002011-12-19T19:33:21.103-08:00

Lost Cosmonaut, by Jeremy Geddes Sitting on the 16th floor of a condo building that is being battered by strong winds, my stomach does a little somersault every time I look out of the window or ride the elevator.  This concrete jungle of ugly where high-rise buildings have replaced trees is a world away from the mid-Atlantic island I left behind, a world away from the endless fields of OH,

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-2715832233179689072011-12-15T15:25:00.000-08:002011-12-19T19:33:10.721-08:00

Is it time for a gnomeliday? Every day is a clash between the inner GPS and the practical gnome. Instinct, hunch, heart, intuition - my inner GPS is bold, has a crystal clear voice and perfect elocution, quite unlike the human it inhabits. Its nemesis is a practical gnome with hamster-like behavior that frets incessantly and devotes most of the present to worrying about the future. Shy,

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-52611738502582485692011-12-12T14:54:00.000-08:002011-12-12T16:55:35.936-08:00

Supposed to shelter yet broken, via Umbrella Carnage I had to raise her.  Had to. Burden. Obligation. Imposition. No escape. Decades of resentment packed into the perfect sound bite and served up over coffee to the woman who replaced her, the woman who is living her life, with the man she tossed away without a second thought many years ago. It is Sunday, tact and graciousness have the day

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-6646764123285458282011-12-05T10:37:00.000-08:002011-12-05T14:23:06.474-08:00

Uncommon look, common object, by Suzy Lelievre This bird can't fly.  My suitcase and I are grounded, tethered to the earth by the vagaries of the ailing global economy. So grateful was I for the unexpected influx of US work in September that it didn't even occur to me to check the financial health of my client. Had I done so, I would have learnt that they are on their death bed and that

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-25176615177011741602011-12-02T07:24:00.001-08:002011-12-06T06:08:33.939-08:00

Headless childhood, via Deviant Art Yesterday I tried to prise open my brain with a file.  This file - curated by my mother without my knowledge - contained all my school report cards from middle school up to high school graduation, as well as some tragic ID pictures reminiscent of the girl on the library card. Be it in the eyes of the little kid with one sticky outy ear and big pink

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-73134672567235377472011-11-29T16:22:00.001-08:002011-12-12T06:00:23.970-08:00

Robot matryoshkas, via Perpetual Kid I changed my name almost as soon as I left home.  To do so, I twisted the name I was born with as far as it would go so that my new monicker would only bear the vaguest resemblance to what's written in my passport.  "And this is my daughter Ermintrude", Mother proudly says as she introduces me to her friends at the movies.  I freeze for a

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-50319393939010761412011-11-26T17:37:00.000-08:002011-11-30T14:19:49.895-08:00

Togetherness, by Lisa Leonard In a basement somewhere in the Midwest, I left a small bag that has a giant strawberry on it. More than the few items of clothing it contains, it is a promise to return to the place where happiness lives, on the edge of a small town in Ohio where nothing much ever happens apart from the tearing down of historical buildings, the increasing desertification of

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-43801223793618084312011-11-25T18:53:00.001-08:002011-11-30T14:19:40.234-08:00

In my brain, the lights are on but... The calendar is taunting me again and eating away at my already dwindling reserves of happy. I urgently need to make more happy before I run out altogether, so I jump in head first into alternate realities and daydream as hard as I can to relieve the pressure of trying to patch together a past that has all but completely disappeared. I go to the city

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-11973753013579301572011-11-23T16:41:00.000-08:002011-11-27T17:14:31.577-08:00

To my greatest astonishment, Thanksgiving is happening today although I am not in the US. This is only my second Thanksgiving, and in many ways, it is a recycled version of the first one. Much like Thanksgiving three years ago, today is marked by friendship and togetherness, although this time it is virtual rather than face to face but just as precious and real. Foodwise, I am including yams

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-3366173742095213912011-11-20T16:44:00.000-08:002011-11-26T15:57:43.518-08:00

I wish I could smile, by Anton Tang On the old library card still pinned up on the kitchen wall, a girl with dead eyes is frozen in time. She looks every inch the library rat - wooly scarf, cardigan, self-inflicted haircut and corresponding questionable hair color. She also looks old beyond her years despite her apparent youth. In the living room, her eyes have come alive for the

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-40133318029981905022011-11-17T14:31:00.001-08:002011-11-26T15:58:43.586-08:00

Islandish inside-out window, by HJC Today I awoke to the sounds of amorous cooing. Across the square, a battered old radio the builders keep on all day was belting out barely recognizable tracks. My friends' dollhouse apartment is under the roof and the outside of the bedroom window is the 'Times Square meets Amsterdam's Red Light District' of the pigeon world, where the entire city's

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-54956132911961315722011-11-14T19:06:00.001-08:002011-12-21T14:56:04.925-08:00

Here's me looking atcha kid, via Suzn Quilts The two months of Christmas are well under way. And with them comes the obligatory tinselly merriment that gets shoved down the throat of anyone daring to venture outside. No one does Christmas quite like Supersize Islanders and there is no avoiding the consumerist orgy, even if all you need from the store is a packet of tea bags. Plain,

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-52716852598078106322011-11-13T16:04:00.000-08:002011-11-17T19:02:47.672-08:00

Yes, this is for sale. Really. I'm glad you found me.  Talking to the interwebs now feels much less like the monologue of a fool and more like a time-lapse conversation, with little details taking on great importance against a mostly silent backdrop. Remember the way transatlantic phone calls used to be, all echo and hiccuppy gaps? This is what we sound like, you and I. More to the point

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-69522835735174343762011-11-10T15:45:00.002-08:002011-12-06T06:07:56.673-08:00

Mother-daughter bond, via Jamie Collyer With the grace of airborne excrement landing on freshly washed hair, unpleasantness plopped into my inbox with a deafening thud in the form of an accusatory note from my genitor.  My mother discovered the internet about 3 months ago. After several false starts and some messages that randomly confused the enter key and the space bar, she has now mastered

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-76357684871617275302011-11-07T18:00:00.002-08:002011-11-15T14:24:47.402-08:00

Swedish sock puppet bus ad campaign, by HJC Suddenly, I was "sweet Hannah", a romantic black and white vision of lust staring back at him from a whimsical self-portrait covered in two years worth of memory dust. In emails dripping with testosterone, Bjorn the Swede could barely contain his enthusiasm about meeting up in NYC. The fact that we were due to fly back to our respective corners

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-65811891198897991112011-11-06T13:15:00.000-08:002011-11-11T14:34:13.600-08:00

Speech bubbles, via Comic Abstraction @ MoMA I have a hockey puck stuck in my throat.  The hockey puck has been withholding words for the last 5 days. It mysteriously appeared as I was being repeatedly hugged goodbye at Detroit airport last Tuesday and has been firmly installed atop my vocal chords since then. I took it for a walk around Jamaica on Wednesday and tried to drown it in coffee

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-35729187552550312502011-10-29T19:01:00.001-07:002011-12-06T06:09:10.103-08:00

Dot map of the world, by Michael Tompsett How about a dialogue rather than a monologue this time? Who are you little dot on a big world map, you silent witness of my days and sleepless nights, you who follow my digital footsteps all over the place? Because you are all over the place, and so am I, both literally and metaphorically. This blog is the step ladder into my head - sometimes you

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-36647763605737463422011-10-28T11:11:00.001-07:002011-10-29T19:02:29.608-07:00

Two weeks ago, we didn't even know each other. I knew of her though. I knew she had been poorly since April and I knew she had just dodged yet another health scare before I arrived. Although she initially seemed to be recovering, she took a turn for the worst on Wednesday night. Yesterday afternoon, she died despite a blood transfusion that could have saved her. She was discharged but

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-86148747116630458242011-10-21T16:00:00.000-07:002011-10-28T11:20:23.015-07:00

Island life looks a lot like this, via ffffound The island is the black cloud I drag around with me wherever I go.  It is the omnipresent specter of gloom that fuels me, the indelible lesson learnt that refuses to recede to the back of my mind, the fire in the pit of my stomach... The island is acid reflux. I have been in America for a while now and yet the island still keeps a tight

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-28208490497176037862011-10-20T17:58:00.000-07:002011-10-21T13:43:25.630-07:00

Yummy back then, still yummy now?, by HJC After several years and an email informing me curtly that my "things" had been left with the bellman at a London hotel, Bjorn was suddenly back in my inbox demanding attention with the tact of a large root vegetable being lobbed at me from a great distance. From Russia to be more precise. Bjorn the Swede is a colleague I met briefly some time ago,

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-47696171228676837812011-10-18T20:42:00.000-07:002011-10-28T11:20:36.179-07:00

People are not made of stone, via Adam I wonder how much longer I will be able to carry you in my head. How long until the perfect recollection of your face fades away? Writing you up somehow keeps you by my side a while longer. Words are a continuation of that last hug neither of us wanted to break. The night you left, I walked for hours, mourning the passing of an extraordinary

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-17234124327697143242011-10-08T18:22:00.000-07:002011-10-20T18:11:53.129-07:00

Geographical markers, via Chalk & Talk In a slow hotel elevator somewhere in MA, my black Stetson and boots raised eyebrows. I bide my ride companions goodnight and glide swiftly across the plush carpet in the direction of room 236. In the distance, confused voices ponder. "She definitely had an accent". "Probably TX or Midwest somewhere". "Yeah, front desk said they had some

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-63492197438708991312011-10-07T18:58:00.000-07:002011-10-20T18:12:16.924-07:00

The island has toughened me so much that I don't even bat an eyelid when verbal abuse hurls my way. When it comes to pettiness, I'm Teflon-coated. In the face of discontent, I empathize and dispense good cheer because this is what I am currently being paid for. Being the nurturing kind, this job is no hardship for me. But being a lone agent ping-ponging across the country is. Airports

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-29757181912096424172011-10-03T18:12:00.000-07:002011-12-16T07:39:08.770-08:00

Embracing magic, via Ritika Kamal Within 3 days of landing on Supersize Island, I received an urgent email from a desperate client asking if I would take on an emergency assignment stateside. That same morning, I had joked with the friend who was putting me up that I was unlikely to go back on the road, exception made if something came up in the US or Canada. And that's exactly what

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-56091747820878946212011-09-27T10:08:00.000-07:002011-10-08T19:20:55.900-07:00

Are we driving to Boston then? With a messenger bag half my size making me lopsided, a paper bag full of newsprint, a camera bag and a plastic tote stuffed with trail mix and dates, I stumble onto the airport shuttle and wedge myself unsteadily between the door and the handrail. The door closes with a whoosh, whacking me sternly on the backside and shoving me forward in the general direction

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-47881057374752323242011-09-22T00:12:00.001-07:002011-09-27T10:47:16.838-07:00

I met the voice before I met the man. A routine business call suddenly became laden with promise and anticipation. By the time morning came, I had dug the only pair of earrings I own from the depths of my suitcase, brushed my usually unruly hair and even borrowed a hat. There were hellos and introductions but I cannot remember them. The voice was filling all the space. It had a hat on, a

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-74854258431496223452011-09-05T06:38:00.002-07:002011-09-05T06:39:00.527-07:00

Fear, via Myfanwy's Journal Sometime on Friday afternoon, Fear whispered in my ear, susurrating sweet nothings in a perfidious tone.  My self-confidence shook and whimpered a little before setting out to convince me that a job with the many hallmarks of rebranded dullness was so exciting I had to apply for it. In true 'Hannah 2.0' style, I told the company the way they had turned around a

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-1077817483720847352011-09-04T07:09:00.000-07:002011-09-04T07:11:12.627-07:00

Sorry, I'm actually happy you know... via jeffhoward I am not miserable enough. Because I have decided to laugh in the face of my own misfortunes and wholeheartedly embrace a situation that would be synonymous with 'hell' to most people, I no longer fret, palpitate or pick up large clumps of hair from the plughole. Almost a week ago, I packed my Islandish life into one suitcase and two

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-4487759304548275762011-08-30T18:10:00.000-07:002012-01-06T12:24:38.067-08:00

Atlantic clouds, kindly lent to me by Martin Brummell Walking on the tarmac towards the plane, I inhaled deeply. Do islands exude pheromones, I wondered. The island's runway is right by the ocean, so hello and goodbye are always a heady combination of marine notes with sub-tropical flowery, sweet, woody undertones. It is the smell I always longed for when I was away, a comforting smell,

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-21899045618798148192011-08-29T21:57:00.000-07:002012-01-06T12:25:17.818-08:00

I target human heads, via TTBM Airport, flight, airport, flight, airport, flight, Supersize Island, seaside, seagulls... That's Tuesday - all of it - taken care of. In ground news, I found a job ad that read like something I might have written. So I did a wee happy dance and set out to apply right away, i.e. in the middle of the night so I wouldn't miss the deadline when I am up in the

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-20303194500512649652011-08-28T21:30:00.000-07:002011-09-04T07:11:48.987-07:00

Levitation, by Ashley Campbell A Supersize Island industry beacon is shining a little dimmer for me tonight after publishing a job advert that is the equivalent of a vigorous slap in the face. At first glance, the position appealed to me a lot as it combined being immersed in words with ensuring fellow bathers were not peeing in the alphabet soup. As a little bonus, it even involved

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-86212269428327426452011-08-27T20:00:00.000-07:002011-08-28T19:01:33.024-07:00

In this case, #5 & #6. via Benedict Froggatt This is a down-at-heel island but there is always a budget for certain things, a category said maybe-job most probably falls under. The problem is other, and as worrying as it is unethical... The person who contacted me with this maybe-job-pseudo-offer is someone with whom I have an excellent working relationship based on mutual respect, common

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-68378826097470221412011-08-26T19:51:00.000-07:002012-01-06T12:18:03.999-08:00

I'm the stray one, via Martha Stewart.com 'Hannah 2.0' is go!  And I have a corporate crush. By Friday lunchtime, I was beaming happy wordy vibes in the general direction of the lower top half of Supersize Island. Half an hour later, I was also radiating joyful text appeal towards Supersize Island's Smoke-o-polis. One position even involves tongues! Ooh. Mouthfuls of foreign, that I can

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-46137739931242210302011-08-25T19:46:00.001-07:002011-09-04T07:09:58.072-07:00

Past professional metaphor, via The High Definite Having always argued until I was blue in the face that the medium should never get confused with the message, today sees the start of my own personal branding and marketing campaign. As I type this in the sticky Islandish night - an old pair of cans filling my head with sounds of The National - I am proudly blinking back disbelief. Not only

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-89328371859028437672011-08-24T04:45:00.000-07:002011-08-27T20:05:08.636-07:00

My Islandish life? by Armin Blasbichler As I was dozing off to mellifluous insults delivered by an archived and badly subtitled Gordon Ramsay, an electronic burp came from my pocket and made me sit up.  Having deliberately embraced the unsociable life in order to regain a semblance of sanity in a place that - by now - has driven me to distraction, I wondered who could be seeking my

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-60195696988567989762011-08-20T06:19:00.000-07:002011-08-27T20:06:29.964-07:00

Leaving the island on an early morning flight, 2008 I have been gifted a pair of wings with which to escape from this tiny floating rock of doom at the end of the month.  In a place only accessible by air, still closed to low costs and therefore boasting some of the most expensive routes around, said wings amount to an average Islandish monthly salary at the moment. The price of an

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-70290614842615713132011-08-01T15:18:00.003-07:002011-08-27T20:08:25.228-07:00

Not quite the snapper I met... Odd is part and parcel of island life, so much so that airport authorities should erect an advisory billboard urging all outsiders to suspend their disbelief as soon as they land. Of the many quirks and horrors that have befallen me since arriving here, having my picture taken when I was coming out of the house garbage in hand definitely ranks as one of the

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-88696100227932095932011-07-16T08:01:00.008-07:002011-08-01T18:44:40.535-07:00

Want to buy some illusions? At 5'7'', I'm hardly an Amazon and yet I never did fit into my Islandish bed. Even though I sleep diagonally to remedy the problem, I still wake up with one or both of my ankles caught in the bed frame. I learnt to live with that, as I learnt to live with every single spring in the hard mattress conspiring to burrow a hole in my back, nightly. However, as long

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-9947211605620658372011-07-15T16:41:00.001-07:002011-08-01T18:44:22.475-07:00

Can provoke drooling, or not. Ah for the bags of delicious black little fishies wrapped in a crunchy, salty coat... Native to the Netherlands, Germany and Scandinavia, those bitesize marine delights fit in your hand and routinely provide mouthgasms as well as serious withdrawals symptoms. This is fishiness at its most liquo-rich yumminess and it is seriously making me consider a move to

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-70552415060664313852011-07-11T11:30:00.003-07:002011-08-01T18:43:57.552-07:00

Inside my chest... This is an island that gobbles up your heart at first contact, sucks on it languorously, chews it with unbridled glee then spats it back in your face without so much as a thank you.  Living here has sullied me, chipped at my childlike willingness to befriend everyone and eroded my faith in mankind. It is an island of little education and terrifying stupidity, where

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-50300405531323341812011-07-10T09:55:00.002-07:002011-07-10T11:49:08.981-07:00

A memoir of love, longing and lousy choices in NYC I didn't expect to bond with journalist Steve Friedman at the first mention of cockroaches, but that is exactly what happened when I read the author's note in Lost on Treasure Island. Critters create bonds and so does being the non-native in an unfamiliar and hostile insular environment, using self-deprecation as an armour and bed-hopping

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-49773544063673826532011-07-05T03:43:00.003-07:002011-07-11T08:03:41.571-07:00

Hairy business... The last few days have been reminding me of that time in Germany two years ago when Tamiflu, stress and some blood pressure drug conspired to make me shed like a dog in spring. Even for a junior Rapunzel - with a mane that now reaches below the bra strap but doesn't yet graze my buttocks - losing hair is scary business because a little always looks like a lot. Yesterday,

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-24415630512245336762011-07-04T03:28:00.002-07:002011-07-11T08:05:16.391-07:00

Could this be a survival strategy? Fact: chewing sand exfoliates the tongue until it is so smooth that no word will stick to it. As a humanostrich, I have those big eyes - with long eyelashes - that make language redundant anyway. I also run fairly fast, unless I am in a stationary position with my cranium firmly planted in the sand. After playing pretzel for the last two months, I have

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-42769931276611600412011-07-01T03:39:00.001-07:002011-07-11T08:03:57.647-07:00

Shelved ocean... Round or rectangular, this marine delight is almost immortal, highly stackable and often comes with its own mini ocean of water, brine, oil or sauce.  Merry mackerels, saucy sardines and trooper tuna are some of the many species that fall under the generic ringpullus cannus group, with or without added dolphin. Once the daily catch, now the everyday catch, courtesy of a

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-28828071977381516742011-06-29T11:04:00.003-07:002011-07-11T08:35:19.246-07:00

Come all ye faithful! Wash your hands! Wrong. A young mother with a little kid holding an ice cream go to the bathroom. Bathroom noises are made, bathroom tissue dispensed, toilets flushed and out of the cubicle they come and out of the public bathroom they go - with the little kid still clinging to the precious ice-cream - blindly walking past the row of wash basins, the liquid soap and

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-35526210705144538202011-06-27T02:25:00.001-07:002011-06-27T02:41:05.495-07:00

HannahCurious all glitched up! A random act of kindness landed into my inbox on Friday and led to a weekend filled with childlike wonder and belly laughs, all courtesy of a complete stranger.  Within minutes of following the instructions on the email, I was magically whisked away into the minds of giants, happily munching on spinach, leaping around, giving people hooch and beer while listening

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-6878787457797247192011-06-23T20:12:00.003-07:002011-06-26T22:27:05.548-07:00

Beware of revamped ocean life... Naked claws and make-up do not a crustacean make, unless it's mangled fish with a slap of blusher rolled into assorted shapes. In order to experience the joys of walking sideways and pinching fellow ocean dwellers, some fish are willing to undergo hardcore transformations. Boiled, pulverized and ground, they are made into some sticky paste that is then shaped

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-4089271426381043952011-06-23T02:51:00.002-07:002011-06-23T13:58:36.981-07:00

Words, by Abigail Hunt Right from the start, both my life and work on the island have always been about reaching out. When I spoke up about the silent demise of my project and how I had been treated as a foreign worker, I received the following email from a local random stranger: Dear Hannah,  I heard about what happened to you and wanted to express my deepest sympathy. It is unfortunate that

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-5924564561214334432011-06-22T05:36:00.006-07:002011-06-26T20:49:30.631-07:00

Now everyone knows... My brain is bloated and my heart is playing dead.  Last week, a former colleague of sorts commented that my presence lingered on where I used to work. Her comment came after I decided to make public the reasons why my project died a silent death. Because I described my status within the company as ghost-like, her words caused the corners of my mouth to rise for a minute

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-32217440000591448412011-06-21T05:40:00.001-07:002011-06-22T20:16:39.796-07:00

Cockroach art, by Catherine Chalmers Cowering in the corner of the room, I try and gather my thoughts. It flew in, then crawled out of sight. And it didn't fly out so... it's still here. It's that time of year when the stagnant humid heat of the night gets stifling and the island stews in its own sticky sweat. Fans in the summer are as elusive as heaters in the winter. Although both are

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-63050195762424761162011-06-19T12:48:00.004-07:002011-07-11T08:37:11.618-07:00

Small Hand Fish in captivity Whether in a landlocked or oceanside location, few piscine species are as omnipresent and widely consumed as the Hand Fish. A favourite around the world, it is the kitchen star of school cafeterias, the saviour of lazy parents, the staple of fast food joints and the veggie alternative of those who still believe fish are plants. Manna from the ocean, the Hand

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-15985411943541569102011-06-12T23:35:00.002-07:002011-06-15T18:45:33.325-07:00

"Here's looking at you kid!" There are as many cows as humans on the island and there is also a mall where bovine mentality rules.  "My friends back home warned me before I took up the job here", says Linda's daughter. "That island, it's only cows and little else". We're driving the long way around town, the garbage truck ahead of us setting the pace and providing the olfactory setting for

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-85238476705723293082011-06-10T07:28:00.004-07:002011-06-12T23:36:19.311-07:00

Take your goldfish for a walk thanks to Michal Shabtiali Living on an island inevitably awakens an interest in all creatures that float, swim and often end up on one's plate. Inspired by the weekly feature of almost the same name by Martin Brummel, here comes Funky Friday Fish, a layperson's take on things with fins. Today's specimen is rather common, has more to do with tap water than the

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-41721254414204683222011-06-04T23:13:00.004-07:002011-06-09T20:28:30.911-07:00

The elephant in the room, by Banksy Urgent footsteps break up the dead of night. Stomp, stomp, stomp. Hands paw at the bathroom door. It croaks open then croaks shut as the entire three-storey house rattles. Although I am exactly a corridor and two doors away from the heart of the action, the wobbly pachyderm walk has set the scene. The next movement of this impromptu symphony is wholly

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-24213981258358718502011-06-03T20:40:00.002-07:002011-06-05T00:22:12.743-07:00

Hope, by Anton Tang Except for the items he was holding, the young man might have gone unnoticed. But his demeanour conveyed tenderness and a self-effacing - almost reverent - urgency. The couple behind me felt this and offered him their place in the line. I snapped out of my absent-minded contemplation. Awareness of others and respectful deference are rare here. "Please go ahead, you only

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-44296319553417368942011-06-02T18:24:00.007-07:002011-06-27T15:01:38.745-07:00

Mass Google love, courtesy of Unurth.com Overnight, the blog sprouted a new appendage. Decked in primary colours that clash horrifyingly with The Ideal Wife Giveaway's already garish visual excesses, the +1 button feels like a zit that wants zapping...  Facebook already has a forest of stiff thumbs permanently stuck in the upward position and mostly disconnected from the brain - there's always

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-15352668739866728062011-06-01T00:32:00.004-07:002011-06-02T20:12:36.023-07:00

Upstairs, the lights are on... Epiphanies are coming thick and fast, bombarding my numb skull like some malingering vultures from a horror movie. In my head, it's carnage as I realize hindsight is about as useful as snow boots in the jungle.  In this context, violent bouts of self-loathing are unavoidable. Although I am finally connecting the dots, I cannot quite shake off the cast iron

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-21802561843369430142011-05-30T20:56:00.002-07:002011-06-01T01:55:24.691-07:00

What to do now? I have spawned an online monster! The adorable pink-cheeked bloglet is quickly morphing into an embittered teenager. At this rate, the internet could soon be staring a precocious curmudgeon in the face.  Although I pledged to be as authentic as possible and never over-egg the pudding, my situation went from precarious to unsustainable only a few weeks after I started writing.

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-48894049554757770562011-05-30T03:57:00.010-07:002011-05-30T22:47:26.035-07:00

Religion, Islandish style, courtesy of Twisty Four razor-sharp lines slash through my screen with the urgency of breaking news. They confirm what I have been saying all along, only those words are not mine but a local friend's. "Of course people are increasingly turning into actors, because the world is a film festival". Quite. When such lucidity spills forth from a local mind, it passes for

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-25424436711787756682011-05-28T21:24:00.002-07:002011-05-30T12:26:27.048-07:00

Nibbling away at the world... where to next? To go or not to go? My mind is a big mass of grey goo dangerously wobbling between love and total rejection. If there was a service that offered to delete a culture and a language from my memory, right now I would probably sign up for it out of desperation. Then again, I'd still have to avoid world atlases for the rest of my life. I've never been a

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-49556810432833961392011-05-27T19:06:00.007-07:002011-06-05T01:54:03.543-07:00

An army of yum soldiers... or not The Islandish cult of appearances pervades every aspect of daily life. Even locally grown vegetables are posers.  Tonight, I cooked some butternut squash the colour of lifeless cantaloupe melon inside. Instead of being its characteristical bright orange self, my vegetable was only half-heartedly salmon coloured, as if having deliberately decided to silence its

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-8167787327225100262011-05-26T18:16:00.006-07:002011-12-02T10:42:07.396-08:00

On display for all to see... Time has come to a standstill, swallowing me and my bizarre island existence. And I have let myself be slowly broken down, vaguely hoping I might be burped out on the grounds of being indigestible. But unless I crawl back up time's gullet, prise its jaws open and make my way back into the bright daylight, the most likely outcome - should I continue to wallow in

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-91100874810952228772011-05-14T21:09:00.005-07:002011-05-28T21:27:59.266-07:00

Wings needed... This is what I was chewing on last weekend: trust no one. In fact, it was the first bit of advice I received when I moved to the island almost three years ago. And true to form, it was uttered by someone who would prove completely untrustworthy. But being the sunny, optimistic soul that I am, I refused to heed said advice. Instead, I rejected it as a very bleak vision of a

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-18023450354995259102011-05-09T07:52:00.005-07:002011-11-26T15:56:03.300-08:00

The book as mirror, via Quaterly Conversation Mythomania, sadism, gossip, hatred, slander, deception... but I still believe a good book can save your life.  Only this weekend I got more than I bargained for as I jumped in head first into Stieg Larsson's "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo". The book had been on my reading pile for months after someone brought it to me from Canada. As its

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-21378541205594907772011-05-06T19:16:00.012-07:002011-05-07T17:30:36.493-07:00

Not an urban myth! It was one of those days when the horizon disappeared, swallowed up by a floating high rise building dwarfing the docks. As the city yawned and stretched itself awake, the army of bright white tennis shoes was already pounding the pavement in search of some local flavour. There is something hypnotic about American casual footwear, something that forces your gaze downwards

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-55449709430468498772011-05-05T12:53:00.004-07:002011-05-30T20:56:31.216-07:00

It may well take the whole tube... I am garlic. Today, I feel like the large head of garlic that formed part of my dinner last night, oven-roasted to spreadable deliciousness. Now, its distinct aroma is oozing from my every pore, or so my nose would have me believe. Food. I love it. Having been brought up in a country where it is tantamount to art, I grew up in a world of almost constant

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-91399756244004133142011-05-04T00:07:00.001-07:002011-05-28T21:26:27.507-07:00

Look! via runningdive.ca That lump of grey matter between our ears wasn't given to us just to keep the inside of our skull warm and yet, do we really use it? What about the athletic chunk of muscle that goes boom boom in our chest? Do we even know what it's for? I don't know what's worse, pea-brained stupidity or a heart of ice. Unfortunately, it seems authenticity is on its way out and

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-31943683750850012022011-05-03T14:53:00.003-07:002011-05-28T21:26:51.507-07:00

Yosuke Goda's living, breathing room This society is hard as nails, unforgiving, often crude and brutish. It has the mindset of a curtain-twitching housewife, revels in gossip, judges relentlessly and lives vicariously through the misfortunes of others.  As an outsider, it's not a thick skin you need to survive here, it's hide and a Teflon-coated heart. They're waiting for you to stumble, fall

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-50399603067612868952011-05-02T02:46:00.002-07:002011-05-03T23:16:07.400-07:00

The photographic genius of Diaz Bourgeot I woke up, fired up the Macsaurus while still half-asleep as I do every morning and nearly drowned in my cup of tea when the internet stared back at me insistently. Following an overnight transformation into a bolshy, loud and outraged citizen journalist, Ella had dropped a bomb on Facebook that would rattle our entire island community. First, you need

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-32140517183191458942011-05-01T11:38:00.001-07:002011-05-02T06:29:00.101-07:00

Life on a small island Island living, decoded? No nearness - getting to the giant continental landmass on the right or to the other on the left requires several hours. And wings. Paddles not an option. Stunning nature aplenty populated by odd creatures sharing kinship and a genetic mistrust of foreigners. Uncanny local ability to disguise mistrust if commercial or sexual interest is involved.

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-49837289601059792582011-04-30T05:28:00.007-07:002011-06-04T20:21:25.073-07:00

My cell squawks in the garbled semi-musical tone that indicates a message has arrived.  Is someone sending me love, in the generic sense of the term? Just like most people, unexpected attention and kind words never fail to make me smile. Because being thought of, enquired about and communicated with is always nice.  This time, the message was indeed love, of sorts. Commercial love - a store was

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-80901307325446202382011-04-29T04:15:00.002-07:002011-04-30T08:48:54.551-07:00

Digital life? It's a snap! A week ago, when I embarked on the madcap venture of creating a site to meet my future husband, I hadn't quite pondered the ongoing digital v. real life debate that seems to have so many minds in a twist, probably because I have long considered digital life to be an intrinsic part of my (real) life.  Even before I became Robinson Crusoe on a tiny dot in the middle of

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-86623117031858064272011-04-28T18:36:00.005-07:002011-04-29T07:29:09.048-07:00

Do you need a sock with that? Thank you internet! You are constantly turning even the most mundane of pursuits into some voyeur orgy by enticing Citizen Anonymous to validate his or her existence via a whole host of gadgets, platforms and applications. And I, Hannah, marooned on a minuscule speck of landmass in the middle of the pond, am ridiculously grateful to you for allowing me to shed my

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-30569328049593256562011-04-27T09:19:00.003-07:002011-05-28T21:29:49.933-07:00

Transient turns permanent I sometimes wonder if my head might be full of air bubbles waging an haphazard war on my past, or if it simply expels large chunks of life at random.  One thing for sure, many episodes of my personal saga have been irretrievably wiped, sometimes leaving me at a loss to connect the dots. And while some parts of my past are a mystery, I am still able to recall whole

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-82663516317660680662011-04-25T16:04:00.000-07:002011-12-16T08:42:03.735-08:00

Colleen Moore as "Ella Cinders" When you are 35 and still on the shelf, the "damaged goods" label almost always attaches itself to you by osmosis - even though one thing may have nothing to do with the other. Enter stigma, the chewing gum of the relationship world. For a woman, being my age and still single invariably makes me one of several things: ruthless career woman, wacko no one in

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-27061760302018663022011-04-25T03:15:00.003-07:002011-05-28T21:30:08.173-07:00

Crazy Rabbit, by Peter Even Yes, hoper as in hopeful, not hopping like a mad Easter bunny on acid or perhaps even bunny boiler. I tend to hope more than I hop, unless a large book has just landed unceremoniously on my metatarsals. But this island business has foxed a few already. Mind you, I like furrowed brows - they confirm there is life upstairs and curiosity within. The island location is

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-19659037703361764072011-04-24T04:30:00.005-07:002011-04-25T00:58:46.327-07:00

Monkey on your back? Fancy a shag, do you? Move along then, there's nothing for you to see here. Seriously Internet, did you misguidedly think I was a nympho in disguise? Or perhaps even a... flesh trader? I am neither, nor do I need the internet to help me satisfy any casual sexual urges I might have. All I have to do is take a walk outdoors, if I feel so inclined. Only I don't. And walks on

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375664135874978780.post-6224436581165991522011-04-22T21:30:00.007-07:002011-05-28T21:30:34.220-07:00

Hug, by Anton Tang I could have registered with online dating sites and waded through multiple choice questionnaires asking me to pigeonhole my ideal partner while sticking several labels on my own forehead. Then I could have left my fate up to winks and assorted emoticons, ploughed through template messages with terrible spelling and occasional obscene propositions and hoped that Prince

Hannah Joy Curioushttps://profiles.google.com/116261037998447653175noreply@blogger.com7