Is home where the heart it?

Noreen Bayne

These past few days have been a challenge. It started with something vaguely resembling homesickness (I left my first home at 17 and never looked back). I left my old life behind to be happy, to be at peace, to define myself. Yet I woke up one morning feeling completely lost, with one question nagging at the bottom of my mind, where is home? For two days, I didn’t move, just stayed in my box and did nothing. On day three, I was sick of myself. How did someone who had the guts to give it all up suddenly surrender to an unknown force? So I left my apartment and ventured out to explore my new neighborhood.

When we hear of Paris, we hear about the City of Light and Love. In books and movies, it’s this magical place full of love, music, art, fashion, beauty and all the things…

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The playlist

Who else does this? ☝

Noreen Bayne

A few years ago, I took a writing class and one of our exercises required us to raid the fridge and car trunk of one of our characters. It seemed weird at first but that day I pulled some interesting items from my character’s fridge and I think that day I formed a very special bond with her.

Like me, she had plain and artificially flavored yoghurt in her fridge but she almost always chose the flavored yoghurt and the plain ones stayed in there till their expiry date. Random fact, but one I related to on a personal level. She tried to live a healthy life but always fell short. I knew this desire and I was well acquainted with the shame that followed each time she disappointed herself. I understand the excuses she told herself because those were my excuses as well.

That’s as far as our similarities…

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Starting over at 30!

The amazing post by an adventurous, creative yet crazy writer 😊

Noreen Bayne

In my twenties, I didn’t worry about 30. What was there to worry about really? I was on track. By 24, I landed a job in my dream company, I was living in my dream apartment and for the first time in my life I was making friends effortlessly. I was fabulous and anything that wasn’t so good about me, I had the money to fix it. I was living the dream.

All that changed a few months to 30. I started asking questions and wanting more. My 9-5 job (more like 9 to whenever-the-universe-decided-to-let-me-go-home) became a nightmare, not because it was any less awesome than the first day I started, but because my definition of awesome changed. A great job should not be one that pays you the most money but one that you get the most pleasure out of. I hated my job, resented the beautiful city I…

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