Back To Centre.

I once read some life advice in The New York Times from a widow mourning the passing of her husband. She’d been told to ‘sleep on his side of the bed’. She claimed doing so greatly lessened the ache of missing his physical presence. That filling the space where he once lay meant she yearned for him a little less.   

Months and months ago, when I was lying wide awake in the middle of the night, I remembered her advice. I’d read it a long time prior to my marriage falling apart but, there in the booming silence and the crushing darkness, it came to me. 

I have a habit of doing that; remembering things I’ve read. Not when I want to remember them, necessarily, like on command when quizzed, but when I need to. 

On that sleepless night, I recall rolling over to the right-hand side of the bed. It felt cold. The sheets were unwrinkled. They hadn’t had the weight of a body on top of them for a while. 

It felt slightly odd to be on the wrong side of the bed; by contrast it was mildly comforting. I don’t remember drifting off to sleep that night, only waking up. And when I did, it was morning. 

When I was holding onto my marriage, when I was trying to bend and twist and will it to work, when all I wanted was for him to stay, I was petrified. 

To the core. 

I was never scared of being alone; I am great alone. I enjoy alone. 

To continue reading this post, please subscribe here.

Sandi SiegerLeave a comment

JOIN ME AS I DO IT FOR THE PLOT…

I am very excited to announce my subscription only weekly newsletter has launched, with the first instalment landing in inboxes on February 23, 2023. 

People have been telling me for years to release a podcast. Maybe I will, one day. But I genuinely believe the world needs less podcasts, not more. I’m a writer. Words slip out from the tips of my fingers with such ease, it’d shock you. I think the world needs more words. And more readers. Less sixty second TikToks and Reels, and more sentences. Less noise in microphones, and more silence while reading thoughts. So I’m sticking true — to myself, my craft, and the kind of art I want to keep putting out in the world. There’s what’s popular, and there’s what’s right for you.

There’s a couple of reasons this newsletter is for paid subscribers only. 

One, I’m a good writer. You can read a huge volume of my work online for free. I’ll still share and post a lot of work that anyone with an internet connection can access for free. But this newsletter will not be one of them. 

Two, access to me is a privilege. Access to my life, and adventures, mishaps, and emotions, thoughts, and escapades, is a privilege. I am going to give it to you all. Raw and real. 

And what a privilege it will be for me to do so.

Join me as I do it for the plot. Subscribe now at sandisieger.substack.com.

Sandi Sieger1 Comment

Who Run The World?

The glorious Luana Spadafora recently interviewed and featured me in her ‘Who Run The World’ series.

Check out the full interview, where we chat about everything from career to COVID, here.

Sandi SiegerLeave a comment

I Miss The People That Make The Places.

The thing I miss about travelling isn’t so much the places — it’s the people.

I miss the guy I met in Midtown after the Dees pumped the Hawks, the one I got on the Bloody Mary’s at 7am with, and ran around Manhattan alongside, chasing shots and pasta and pastrami sandwiches.

I miss that girl I met in line at the W. The one with the tips for an Aussie in Brooklyn.

I miss that mate I made from Moscow.

Those scriptwriters in The High Line Hotel lobby.

The Cambridge professor I met on the boat four hours off mainland Australia. The way our kids played together.

I miss the stoop hangs with strangers on sweltering nights in the Village. T

hat soldier on the train in Venice.

The bargirl at the Irish.

That muso at the Inn.

Those boys with the tugboats.

That woman in Italy with the big smile and bigger hugs.

I miss Mama Vi at the Harlem Choir.

Those chefs at the Adelaide Central Market.

That winemaker. And that winemaker. And that winemaker.

The guy with the jet, and the sprawling penthouse. The way the crease in his smile sparkled, like he knew he owned everything, including my stare.

I miss the jazz bar owner in New Orleans with the beret and cheeky wink.

Those girls at brunch in Switzerland.

I miss running through the underground tunnels during a layover at LAX to get forty-five more minutes with that gem I bar hopped Stone Street with.

That art dealer.

Her author friend.

Those college grads in San Francisco that I taught how to really dance.

The Wall Street bankers that I only just outdanced.

I like new places, old places, foreign places, familiar places — but what I really love is the people that make the places.

The chance encounters, the serendipitous meetings, the random run-ins, the way one thing connects you and then a million tiny moments fuse you together.

I miss the chase, being chased, the buzz, being the buzz, the turns around wrong corners, the stumbles into right arms, the bumping of shoulders in vestibules, the knocking of knees at barstools.

I miss the way he’d throw his head back when he laughed.

The way she sang.

The way he sauntered down West 10th.

Moment after moment.

Forever etched into my heart, my memory, my skin.

Sandi SiegerLeave a comment

They’ll Never Get You…

“They’ll never get you,” he says, walking ahead of me, teetering on the edge of the gutter. “They’ll never see you like I do. And they can’t, you haven’t shown them the darkest and dustiest corners of your mind.”

I stop and stare at him, my shoe hitting a lip in the concrete.

He turns and edges closer to me, then reaches out and tucks a wayward curl behind my ear. “And you ask me not to love you,” he sneers.

I stare at him, willing myself to look away, knowing I won’t.

“It’s hard to not fall in love with someone,” he continues, getting even closer, “when they’ve shown you the mixed up parts of their soul, and you’ve shown them yours.”

I keep staring.

His hand is lingering on my cheek, his fingers falling past my ear.

“Say it,” he demands, towering over me, feet firmly planted atop the gutter.

I’m still staring at him.

“The deeper our conversations, the more I find to love about you.”

“Stop it,” I tell him.

“I won’t,” he retorts, “I won’t because I’ll never get enough of exploring who you are.”

“Don’t,” I beg, shaking my head from side to side.

He stares, long and hard.

I finally look away.

His hand drops off my face.

He takes a few steps and turns, pausing to gaze through the glass walls of an office building, fixated on a painting in the foyer.

I let him hover for a while, before approaching.

“It’s a cool painting,” I say.

He’s silent.

We stand, side by side, staring at the hues of orange and blue, red and violet, that blur in front of us.

“You might never say it,” he states, turning to face me, “but I know.” He starts to walk away.

Now I’m fixated on the painting.

“C’mon,” he shouts, “let’s roll.”

I turn and see him sauntering off, his boots kicking out just a bit to the side with each step. He walks like he has nowhere and everywhere to be, all at once. It’s captivating, and irritating.

“Let’s get a nightcap,” he suggests, swaggering down the street, “and you can continue to pretend you don’t love me.”

I laugh and scoff, all at once, smiling, and blushing.

It’s so annoying when he’s right.

Sandi SiegerLeave a comment

Condensation Drips On Brooklyn Rooftops.

‘Nice view, huh?’ he asks, placing my drink on the cardboard coaster.

It’s so hot the flute starts dripping, condensation rolling down its curved base.

‘The best,’ I reply.

He pauses.

‘Where you from?’

I look at the coaster, then up at him.

‘Melbourne, Australia,’ I say, with a smile.

‘Wow, a long way from home. You like New York?’

The coaster is already soggy. This heat is some kind of hell.

‘I love New York,’ I answer, in the kind of tone usually reserved for a person, not a place.

‘I think New York loves you too,’ and he winks, quickly wiping the dew from the marble table, walking away.

I scull half of my drink. I don’t mean to, but this weather calls for more than a simple sip. I fall back into the lounge chair. Cross my legs. Close my eyes. And breathe out deeply. I squint and my eyes open.

I do love New York, I think to myself. I love the way everybody here wants to be somebody. The way they believe they can. I love the boldness of it, and the courage. The audacity, if you will.

I take another swig of my drink. I stare at the towering building across the river, the one that reclaimed the New York skyline after 9/11, the one I have grown to love, so much. I try and work out why it transfixes me. It’s just a building, I scoff to myself. But I can’t deny that every time I catch a glimpse of it, my heart flutters. There’s something about it. Something about the way the light dances off it. From a distance. Something about its boldness. From up close. Something about the way it catches my eye, from so many nooks across the city. I suppose it’s audacious, too.

I lift my glass to finish my drink. The coaster has risen with it, stuck to the base of the flute. It’s sweltering.

‘Another?’ he asks.

‘Absolutely,’ I reply.

He picks up the empty flute. Wipes the beads of water off the table, again.

And I smirk as he places a crisp, new coaster in front of me.

Sandi SiegerLeave a comment

Go And Make Your Life Beautiful.

“When I finally get…”

“Once I’ve bought…”

“When I finish…”

“Once I’ve done…”

Boring, wearisome words.

Lifeless excuses.

If you want to rob your life, of the good, and the great, of the grand, and the majestic, keep feeding yourself lies.

Wrap them up into a neat, safe, beige parcel and call them reasons.

Believe they’re what’s holding you back.

Believe they’re why you haven’t already.

Tirelessly wait for better days.

For “when I finally get…” and “once I’ve done…” and then, when you’ve got and you’ve done, you’ll realise the cost was living your one, precious life. Abandoning your dreams. Abandoning yourself.

You have everything you need – right now – to make your life beautiful. To do the things you love. To be the person you want to be.

You do not need to wait, or delay.

“When I…” and “once I…” are traps.

And you know they are.

Stop making excuses.

Stop waiting for the right time.

Stop wishing your life away.

I will say it again: you have everything you need – right now – to make your life beautiful.

Go and make your life beautiful.

Sandi SiegerLeave a comment

34 Things I Know, Now That I’m 34…

  1. Never stop being a good person because of bad people.
  2. Your worst battle will always be between what you know and what you feel. Go with the latter.
  3. Never let success get to your head. Never let failure get to your heart.
  4. Your time is best spent with people who make you see the world differently – not with those who flatter your view.
  5. Two things you’re going to need in life: hope and purpose.
  6. Nothing changes, if nothing changes.
  7. Find someone who speaks your language, so you don’t have to spend a lifetime translating your spirit.
  8. Own your choices.
  9. You need at least one friend in your life who understands what you do not say.
  10. Get uncomfortable. As often as possible.
  11. Some people may not deserve your love, but it doesn’t mean they don’t need it.
  12. Mostly, it’s the will, not the skill, that will be the difference.
  13. Be alone, more often than you’d like. It’s good for you.
  14. Positivity is a choice. And the happiness of your life depends on the quality of your thoughts.
  15. Being broken doesn’t give you the right to break other people.
  16. Be louder.
  17. The secret of your future is hidden in the habits of your daily routine.
  18. You give life to what you give energy to.
  19. Be afraid, but do it anyway.
  20. Perspective is everything, perception is just a lie.
  21. Never go too long without watching a sunset.
  22. Don’t put your happiness in other people’s hands. They’ll drop it. Every time.
  23. Only boring people get bored.
  24. It’s not a coincidence that the happiest people are the ones that do the most for others.
  25. Follow the flame from the fire that burns inside you, and you will always feel the light.
  26. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Every day is a special occasion.
  27. Only insecure people judge others.
  28. No one else knows what they’re doing either.
  29. You must know your worth, and not discount it.
  30. You do not have to unscrew another person’s light bulb in order to shine.
  31. If you accept your flaws, no one can use them against you. And that’s power.
  32. The wound may not be your fault, but the healing is your responsibility.
  33. It doesn’t matter who you’ve been, or what you’ve done – all that matters is who you want to become.
  34. In a world full of fish, be a shark.

Sandi Sieger5 Comments

Merry, Forever. Happy, Always.

I felt a lump swell in the base of my throat yesterday.

I instantly knew what it was.

I’ve felt it a couple of times this year already; in the days leading up to my birthday, and Father’s Day, and his birthday.

It’s unmistakable – a sharp bulge, that intensifies the more I try to quash it.

Gulp.

Gulp.

Gulp.

But it remains.

I wonder if it’ll be like this forever.

I suspect it might still be too early to know.

There’s been a lot of ‘firsts’ this year.

First without this, and first without that.

People say it gets easier with the seconds and thirds.

I’m not convinced.

Time passes, time heals. Maybe. But it doesn’t erase.

And I wouldn’t want it to.

So many years of saturated memories; tinsel flooded floorboards, and sunburn, tables overflowing with food, and cherry stained fingertips. Music permeating the walls. Laughter, over the crunch of wrapping paper.

For the most part, this Christmas won’t be all that different from any other.

There’ll just be one person missing.

It’s disconcerting how life ticks along, as though the people who once loomed so large were never there at all.

But of course they were.

I’ve got little interest in popping crackers or faking festivity over small talk with people I’ve no partiality to.

I just want to be around the people I love, that get it.

The ones that you don’t have to explain anything to, because they know.

It’s funny, what, and who, you’re drawn to after loss. The comfort you find in the familiar, the warmth in revisiting old memories, and with it, old feelings.

I like being close to that.

And as far away as possible from the rest of it.

It’s hard to describe – the immense sense of loss, the extensive gaping hole – because it is entirely at odds with – sublime happiness, genuine excitement – and here I am, occupied by all of them, at once.

It is both melancholic, and marvellous. Delicate, and misinterpreted. Complex, and cathartic. Light, and dark.

The lump comes.

And goes.

It’s unmistakable.

But maybe instead of trying to quash it, I’ll just let it linger.

It’s a nice reminder, in some ways.

To stay near the people, and do the things, that feel like light.

Not just for a season.

Merry, forever.

Happy, always.

Sandi Sieger2 Comments

Life Is A War Of Head Vs. Heart.

Life is a war of head vs. heart. It’s tiny little moments, like: watching the flickering lights of the city from a rooftop, while the soft breeze tangles your hair and kisses your cheek. Waking up early in the middle of winter to feel the chill cut through your coat as a chai latte runs down your throat. It’s that marone jumper you love, that still smells like him.

Life is messy. It’s making mistakes, like: one too many wines that numb your lips but not your tongue. Feeding feelings with memories, instead of drowning them in tears. Driving too fast. It’s being afraid of nothing, except saying exactly how you feel, because then it’ll be real.

Life is glorious. It’s sublime moments, like: watching a radiant sunset, and feeling its glow warm your cheekbones. Goosebumps tingling across your body, as he runs his hand up your thigh. Midnight conversations with people that matter. It’s that spark, that begins when you lock eyes and ends with your souls dancing together.

Life is magic.

If you listen, it will tell you.

If you look, you will find it.

If you do, you will become.

Sandi SiegerLeave a comment