Writing out of a Suitcase

melila — Tue, 8 Sep 2015 01:29:32 GMT

Recently I’ve been connecting with people from all walks of life, helping to tackle their barriers as I place them into work. I’ve enjoyed my job as an employment consultant, but I’m restless too, itching to get out and explore the threads that tie people together and set us apart. I want to be pushed to my limits learning about the world, beyond the safety net of my city. I studied journalism because storytelling is my passion.

I volunteer at 2SER educational radio station and value the mentoring I get as an unpaid reporter for the Wire program, which is a training ground for aspiring journalists. I also assist a web design company with copywriting in my spare time, and I’m learning video production skills.

I’m working towards a journalism career and I’ve been published a few times, mostly through an unpaid internship at the Sydney Morning Herald.

Video is a powerful tool for bringing stories to life, it adds another dimension, allowing viewers to see what’s happening on the ground with our own eyes, as if we are there. My limited film experience shows me that capturing this is challenging, as it’s not enough to find a brilliant story, you need clear audio and footage too.

I’m keen to learn the best ways to create quality content from filmmaker Brian Rapsey, so I can broadcast unique stories through this intimate medium.

Thank you,

Melissa

Swim with wild dolphins, if you dare

melila — Sun, 24 May 2015 17:56:00 GMT

I glance at the time on my phone again and sigh. Morning approaches, but I’m still restless.

“Guys,” I whisper urgently. “We need to wake up in four hours."

Someone throws a pillow at my face.

“Be quiet Mel, we’re trying to sleep,” the culprit mumbles from their bunk bed.

I’m being a pest, but what can I do? I’ve wanted to swim with dolphins since I was a child pretending to be a mermaid, so the anticipation keeps me awake.

This revelation does little to soften the scowls my friends give me, as we shuffle onto the boat the next morning, yawning like a row of dominos under the fading moon.

The captain of Imagine Cruises tells us there’s been a shark attack nearby and the mood darkens.

“It’s not too late to back out,” he reminds the anxious group, jolting us awake. I’m a bit worried, but he assures us their equipment keeps sharks away. My friends agree to stay, since we crammed into a car from Sydney to Port Stephens for three hours to do this.

We travel so far out to sea that nothing blocks the horizon and I suddenly feel immortal. Dolphins glide along the boat and we sing loudly, discovering they love music and committing this to memory. The sea invites us to jump in and bliss awaits, but not for long.

It’s rough out there and the ocean flings me around, proving my timing is off.

Sea: 1, Me: 0

Water fills my snorkel as the waves become frantic, pushing the goggles down my face. Am I panicking, or having the time of my life? It’s hard to tell. The dolphins vanish and our session is cut short, as the weather worsens.

I’m hauled out of the water, looking more like a seal than the mermaid of my fantasy. The diver pulling me onto the boat has strong arms and a cheeky grin, so this case of mistaken identity is unfortunate. I seem to have lost my brain cells in the sea, because there I go, fluttering my lashes at him, most alluringly, like a Damsel in Distress.

This is how it plays out in my mind, but in reality, I stagger around like a drunken sailor, as my friends hold back their laughter.

They don’t all get the chance to swim and we later mull this over while driving home. I’m thrilled, despite my fleeting plunge into the sea, or maybe because of it. The boat trip alone was worth it and we agree to return in spring, when the water is calm, but armed with motion sickness pills, just in case.

I glance at the calendar on my phone and plan to keep track.

“Four months to go,” I say, secure in the knowledge there are no pillows to throw here.

Writing the World onto Paper

Writing out of a Suitcase

Swim with wild dolphins, if you dare