Tuesday, 2 October 2018

The Weight of Her Hair

© Melissa Gaggiano
The little one wanted her hair to be short. In her words, 'to be like boys hair'. She doesn't have patience for brushing her own hair. Days would pass and then her mama would end up brushing the dreadlocked hair. So a hairdresser appointment was happily made.

I explained what the little one wanted, and the hairdresser said she would create a layered bob. Once she was done, the little one said 'shorter'. So, the surprised and hesitant hairdresser went even further with the chop and declared the little one to be brave. The guy who operated the hair salon was also awed by how short the do was turning out.

In this salon, in which the little one sat, there were full grown women, with heavily applied makeup and long tresses, wanting hair that shone more brightly than any other. The little one sat, taking her haircut most seriously, was more interested in being comfortable and carefree. She would not be satisfied with a sort-of-short-but-not-really do. She wanted a hairdo that wouldn't slow her down and distract from what was important: climbing, running, jumping, dancing, twirling, playing, building, drawing, reading, creating.

The result: The little one loves, loves, loves her short hair. And somehow the haircut has increased her muchness, if that could even be possible. It's as if the long hair had weighted down her spirit. And now her spirited little flame has turned up, the brightest crimson glow.

I thought about the hairdresser's comment, about the little one being brave: She is brave, but perhaps not in the way that the hairdresser was imagining. I believe the little one is kind and bold, the embodiment of bravery. More than anything though, the little one is brave, for being herself.

Monday, 12 March 2018


I'm writing. 
One. Word. At. A. Time. 
It's going to be epic. 
As in,
this is going
to take me 
an epically long
time to write.

Wednesday, 7 March 2018


A beguiling re-telling
Of the simply perfect
Relax in this statement
With ample use of cool
Demand more from life
Enjoy the journey
Create your very own
Inspired style
Always as unique as you

Friday, 16 February 2018

For the Spirit

Keeping up with,
downright exhausting.
Asked the owner of craft,
for some help,
around the globe.
Trends are set,
we follow them.
Most interesting
love affair with craft.
A fascination
for something exotic.
The year of,
"It's killing it".
We have more,
so it would take you more.
Be strong for the spirit,
but by the end,
it will be way
innate for human.

Sunday, 4 February 2018

I, Margot

to confront them
this is how it's done

breath blowing
jaw clenches
as if she might
she veers
righteous and petulant
stealing turn
an unlikely match

so fearlessly
she became so overwrought

we got so carried away
he slammed
for a moment I forgot I wasn't
he wasn't
I wasn't

she wanted her
I really did want
too much time with her
didn't want to do that

I'm so
nervous she said
I can't believe
she recently told
he goes
I was like
so absurd

Thursday, 1 February 2018

Summer's Last Day

© Melissa Gaggiano
It is day one of the new school year. My eldest and I are at the dining table chatting. She tells me of a morning writing exercise that her class was given last year. It was to write about their weekend in the form of a poem. She felt she couldn't do it. Nobody in her class could do it.

Writing something worthwhile is no easy job. Something made even harder if one doesn't know where to begin. Now, I'm no academic, but I do like to write with creative flair. So I showed my daughter how she could approach writing poetry. This is how I went about it:

First step // Decide what you are writing about, be it an event, person, emotion...

I chose to write about the last day of the summer holidays.

Second step // Write a list of things associated with that topic.

I brainstormed with my daughter – snakes and ladders, computer games, pies and gems for dinner, Lego, fun with sister, Shopkin's arm falls off, cat was annoying, daddy read newspaper, mama fixed hat.

Third step // Read the list in your head, look for words that might connect and rhyme. Now begin writing.

Games and yums, inside my tums.
Pies in my eyes, last of summer skies.
On my plate, tater tots, look out bots.
Bum’s in the air, that’s my lil sister.
Ewww! That’s gross, can’t make me kiss her.

Friday, 30 June 2017

Multi Me

Multi Me
© Melissa Gaggiano
I am a doodler. I have side projects that I move between – 
... like a chef stirring multiple pots in the kitchen.
 ... like a bee gently hovering from flower to flower. 
... like Frogger leaping franticly from log to log to the other side of the screen.

Which ever analogy I choose, it doesn't really matter, because they're all me on different days.

I am a multi passionate artist – be it writing stories, writing imaginary book titles, drawing, painting, digital art, photography, paper crafts, design, doll making.  If you know me, then this a 'well duh' statement. But the thing is, for years I tied myself up in knots because I was fed this notion that I must choose just one thing and totally focus on that. 

That advice is great for people who are completely absorbed in one thing alone. But I'm not made of singular stuff. Anytime I tried this, whatever I was cutting out from my life left me feeling lost and empty. All the ways in which I invest my creative energy are as much a part of my programming as my DNA. So the only thing for it is to keep doing everything and not worry what the critics say about being a master of one thing, or whatever.

{gratuitous author's book link}
A friend put me onto a mind altering book [no drugs were involved] titled Steal Like An Artist created by Austin Kleon. Doesn't that name just roll? Well anyway... this book affirmates everything I do. The one difference is that post reading Steal Like An Artist I now feel more confident about how I've been using my time, with a couple of minor tweaks. As diverse as my interests are they lend and feed into each other.

Thank you Austin! For writing a book that I have always wanted to read, even before I knew it existed, and even before you knew it was meant to exist. If I was Marty McFly this would be one book that I would take back into the past.