Thinking in Yesterday’s.

Image via Hair Silver

Amongst a new found adoration for The Weeknd’s album, and a (definitely not new) love for the actual weekend, there’s a new tune on repeat in my little head at the moment.

It goes something like this: min. effort, max. effect.

I’m convinced there’s a sort of profound escrow, like an upside down u-shape of effort vs output. We think that more time, more reflection, more effort and energy will result in something better, bigger, grander – something to be ‘more prouder’ of. (That is terrible English, and I’m not sure prouder is even a word, but you get me.)

It’s a joke, because this incessant perjury of ‘perfectionism’ is really quite paralysing.

How many things are put off, delayed, revisited, re-discussed, redone or still left untouched because it’s still not 4000% perfect?

While I always thought a messy bun looked better than a structured ballerina one anyway, I’m learning real quick, that done, is more often than not, better than perfect.

I’m also learning with this finite schedule, that shit needs to get done. Yesterday.

Today my food for thought is this delicious nugget: don’t let perfection get in the way of progress.

We’re done now.

Imperfect, but done.



Life: So wrong it’s right.

Image by @tezzab via We Heart It.

Image by @tezzab via We Heart It.

Like Killer Pythons and The Lion King, it seems that a broken arm, leg, finger or something, is an essential part of growing up.

Even I, the girl whose idea of a ‘daredevilish’ time is a round on the Ferris Wheel, have endured the torment of broken a bone – admittedly I was one year of age, and it wasn’t my fault.

But Mum has sweetly kept the miniature cast of my thunder thing toddler leg, proving that I’m a fully fledged survivor and the truth that falling down and getting hurt is part of life.

We stumble, often really hard, so hard that the pain is not just a temporary scratch able to be remedied by a cool Wiggles band-aid, but one whose ache lingers for at least 6 weeks, and leaves a great looking scar forever.

But I recently learned something interesting about this: a bone that is broken will heal to be stronger than it was before.

So it seems Yeezy was onto something when he said “Na-na-na that that don’t kill me, can only make me stronger”. Interesting.

It seems that no matter how much Milo smothered milk you drink and how much spinach you eat to keep your bones ‘strong and healthy’, the best thing you can do is to break them, and force their strengthening the hard way – obviously more painful but hey, if it gets the job done right?

Now I’m not suggesting you start attempting backflips and trapeze swinging as a method of toughening up – if you do, at least get a go pro and share the footage around – but I am asking that you see the value in being broken.

I know at the time, a broken bone, crushed heart, shattered dream and battered ego is a brutal sentence, but trust in Mr. Kanye West and rest easy in the knowledge that such tremors “makes us harder, better, faster, stronger”.

We learn far more from our mistakes than our successes, and a huge part of living in this day and age, is our responsibility to abuse the opportunities we are given. No doubt you’ll fall, oh honey, you’re going to crash and burn.

Your world will fall apart, and fall apart again. You’ll stop having fun with your ‘best friend’ and be forced to find a new one, you will stop enjoying your job, mangoes will go out of season and your favourite show will release its finale. Your dream job won’t want you, neither will Ryan Gosling, and you are going to make wrong decisions again and again.

It’s all part of it, and that’s okay. Just know that there is value in getting it wrong, and most of the time it’s so wrong it’s right.

So jump higher than you think you can, and don’t be too afraid of coming back down, because:

Work it harder.

Make it better.

Do it faster.

Makes us stronger.

More than ever.

Love, S.


Happy Little Vegemites: Secrets of the Grin.



There’s nothing like some down time to make you contemplate the things you really love, and on a recent bus ride from Ollantaytambo to Cusco, Peru – which was just that little bit too long – I had just that sort of ‘me’ time.

Prepared for a three-hour journey through the Peruvian countryside, I prayed to my iPod to prepare the best, chilled playlist, turned up my earphones, lifted my legs onto the back of the seat in front of me (smelly feet alert!), and spaced out to the view from my window seat.

There’s something special about some old school tunes that really make me smile from the eardrums out, and as I bumped along to the beat – and potholes – I started thinking about the other, teeny tiny little details, which really make me happy.

I’m not talking big-ticket items like “winning the lottery”, “falling in love” or “landing a dream job”, because these are pretty far and few between. If I thought these big things were the only way to be a happy-go-lucky person, then happiness would always seem another Power Ball ticket, lover and promotion away.

So why not focus on the little things.

It sounds cliché I know, but think about these merry makers. Think of how simple yet totally rewarding they are (hopefully you can relate):

  • When Coconut water is on sale for no particular reason.
  • When a waiter brings a big, cold, jug of water to your table without being asked.
  • Big coffee mugs.
  • Hearing children speak in another language.
  • Perfectly made cordial.
  • Waking up to a sunny day.
  • Sand between your toes.
  • Smelling good.
  • Fresh bed sheets.
  • Hotel bathrobes.
  • Hot showers.
  • Telling a bad joke that gets laughs anyway.
  • Perfectly ripened avocadoes.
  • Finishing a book.

These are just a few of my favorite things, and with them, I am the happiest little vegemite in the world.

Sure, the big things are important too, but at least I can experience the bliss from any of the above daily, of my own accord, without relying on some outside source to bestow upon me a $2m prize pool, attention, or a new job.

So what little things ‘float your boat’?

Find a pretty place to sit, grab a pen and paper, and brainstorm the heck out of everything that reveals the cute dimples in your cheeks!

Conjure, remember, reminisce and revive every thing you love, every incy-wincy-teeny-weeny detail, use them and abuse them everyday.

I’d love to hear what you come up with!

Love S.

FOMO: A deconstruction.

Image by @valentina_muntoni via Instagram

Image by @valentina_muntoni via Instagram.

Being available at the drop of a hat is something that I genuinely pride myself on, and I’d like to think that being “down” for anything is a trait that most people would aspire to.

Because in my books, it’s totally okay to text someone at 3pm requesting chai latte accompaniment in half an hour; and my own replies to invitational texts read something like this: “So. There. It’s. Insane.”

Basically, I’ve deduced this erratic tendency of always being available, to nothing other than FOMO.

I’ve heard acceptance is the first step of any form of recovery, so here it is:

I, Sheona Bello, solemnly admit that I am a full-time, hardcore sufferer of FOMO – more extensively known as the “Fear Of Missing Out”.

But to be honest, I never want to lose this ‘fear’. Here’s why.

On the one hand, it could be argued that such a condition leaves one forever in anticipation of the “next big thing” and never truly enjoying the present. But I prefer the contrary, FOMO is the best thing ever!

Think about it: if you have FOMO, it means that you have identified something you want to experience, and in an effort to reduce FOMO, you go ahead and do it! It’s a simple equation, really:

FOMO averted = experience attained = happy days!

And seriously, who doesn’t want happy days, for dayyyssss? It’s not a trick question, we all do! 

Now I am fully anticipating you, my beloved reader, to at this point deduce what I’ve written as a ludicrous indication of naïveté, idealism and outrageous optimism, but please stick with me here.

I mean sure, it may be some form of psychological conditioning, too many olives when I was a toddler or maybe even a recent overdose on coconut water which has conceived these ideas, but I definitely say all this from experience.

Because, once again I am humbly reminded that plans are made to be changed, and there are greater things available than I could have ever imagined myself – only if you are willing to avoid your FOMO, and embrace them!

As such, it is with huge excitement that I write this post, less than 24 hours before boarding a flight to Shanghai – a place I didn’t plan on seeing for another 5 years, and a trip I am not nearly prepared for given the 48 hour proximity of a separate, 2 month trip through South America.

But the opportunity was there, I have FOMO, I wanted to relieve my FOMO, so I POUNCED. 

Don’t blame me, blame it on the boogie.


Sheona xo.



#100happydays ago…

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Just roll with it.

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Stay stoked.

Excitement, the elixir of life.

Excitement, the elixir of life.


It is currently 4.30 am, I fell asleep at 12 am, and my alarm is set for 6am. I have a huge day at work, and I certainly plan on channeling some Disco Fever later in the evening.

So many things are running through my head, here’s an almost, exhaustive list.
a) Why am I up?
b) Why is the rooster (yes, I have Zoo animals) crowing now? It is certainly not an appropriate time by my watch, to be rudely awakening all persons in a 20 km radius with that harsh tone.
c) I should be tired.
d) I should go back to bed.
e) Or, I should at least be scanning the night antics of my beloved Facebook friends,
f) Maybe, I should just start watching Letterman, or E! News.
g) I should try count sheep.
h) Or pigs, flying pigs, that’ll be fun.

But what is most on my mind, is writing this post. It’s taking dominance over my two-fist-sized brain (that’s a fact you know! Read here) is that I just NEED to write this post.

I need to write about this thing that so obviously is running my whole, well, life right now. And the circumstances couldn’t be more fitting.

It’s about boundless energy, something I 100% believe, is fuelled by excitement.

Most people talk about being “happy”, “optimistic”, “inspired” and “hopeful” as a means of attaining fulfillment, but I really think that at the core of what we want, is to be excited.

Think about the common “Nanna nap”, now I know we are ALL capable and guilty of these bad boys, even the most pro-active and energetic people I know, are prone to take some sneaky 3pm shut-eye. And why are they called “Nanna naps” anyway?

It is my assumption that they are called so, because they are typically endorsed, and enjoyed by our “Nanna” aged fellow citizens. Unfortunately, however, it seems the epidemic is spreading to a more youthful cohort, and infecting the lives of many of us, well before we reach their “Nanna” term.

(Wow, that sounded like I was a medical researcher or something! It 4.30 am, roll with it k.)

But seriously, how and why, on earth do we think it is ok to have a “Nanna nap” at 21? But more importantly, WHY do we even need one? Surely, if you’re waking up at 4.30 am for no apparent reason, you have access to some boundless energy source, one which will give you immunity from 3.30-itis.

And this is precisely my point (I will point out however, that this is an unusually early start, and may or may not catch up with me, I’ll let you know how the next 14 hours go!), most of us must be missing something, something that, without it, we feel obligated and tired enough, to take another precious time slot of a 24 hour day, to spend, idly, on our comfy, comfy double bed, with 1000 thread count sheets and the soft throw rug you got for Christmas. (Too much?)

You know what I think it is? I’ll tell you mate, it’s excitement!

I’ll explain.

Apart from when you were in pre-school and your teacher made you have an afternoon nap, when at all in your adolescent years did you need a “Nanna nap”?


I for one, was way too busy getting blisters from the monkey bars, crashing into trees on my motorbike, pretending I was Baby Spice, rewinding the Lion King on VHS, and tormenting my little sister. There was no time to have a nap! Especially between 3.30pm and 5pm, these were prime times on ABC! Can I get an amen for Hey Arnold, Arthur and Daria!

You see, I, and you (I assume) were way too excited by EVERYTHING to be bored, or tired enough to take a nap.

But somehow, amongst weekly homework, essay due dates, the axing of essential children shows on ABC, and “growing up”, we started getting less excited: started finding faults in the things that used to make us so easily entertained.

I’m not saying you take up your old monkey-bar prowess, or re-assume your rightful role as one of the Spice Girls (but hey, if your interested, I do a mean Baby Spice, and am open to girl band ideas!). I’m just encouraging you to find a way to GET EXCITED!

It comes back to that famed adage, “Do what you love, and do it often”, because darling, my dear, that is the ONLY way you are going to get excited!

If I told you:

  • We are getting Yo-Chi,
  • We just scored free tickets to Groovin’,
  • I am throwing a bush-doof and you’re invited, and there will be sausage rolls made by my mum and even lolly-bags when you leave,
  • Grill’d is giving out free burgers,
  • A large package just arrived for you,
  • It’s your birthday tomorrow,
  • Santa came,
  • The new “Game of Thrones” season just dropped, or
  • Harry Styles is officially single again.

You would 100% be excited (right?). If you were halfway through your “Nanna nap” you would awaken fully refreshed and keen for all of the above (especially the Harry Styles one;), you minx!).

In effect, you would be energized, boundlessly energized.


So basically the moral of the story is, GET EXCITED! However, whenever, why-ever you can. Find fun things to do, go out, drive there, pack a bag, make a playlist, find a friend. Do whatever you need to, to

Stay stoked.

The end.

Have you got time to be happy?

Because every day is better when your happy!

Probs not, I mean with all the good series out at the moment, and the accessibility provided by Foxtel On Demand, not to mention the gossip sessions with pals and necessary winging over assignments and heat, I totally get that you more than likely don’t have the diary space to pencil in ‘happiness’.


I don’t care if you have to get up before your first three alarms, or have to miss the entrée. You best make time for this essential activity. A smile a day. Two, three, four, a hundred. As many as you can in fact, winner is the best.

Today I will be gathering a camaraderie of troops to commence 100 days of happiness. 

Be an experimenter, a YES man! 100% money back guarantee!

The old you would do it, join me in the #100happydays challenge here.