For those of you who do not know me, my name is Charlotte Baillie. If I were to meet you in person, there would be a great chance that you would walk away having heard my "life story". Not because I would have initially intended to share, but because you would have ended up asking anyway on hearing my accent...
...so here it is:
I was born in Sydney, Australia, more than sixteen years ago. By the time I was six years old, I was the oldest of three girls. Little did I know at that time what my future held.
As of June 2001, right before I turned the ripe old age of seven, our south Sydney home was filled to the ceiling with boxes, not a piece of furniture to be seen in sight. Soon after, we were greeted and farewelled by grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles, and cousins galore at SYD, Sydney Airport. Looking back, I was, at this time, an incredibly naive child, unaware of anything beyond my normal routine of life. But weren't we all, back then?
As of July 2006, I had lived with my family in Chicago, Illinois, USA for five years. Not downtown, but out in the suburbs, southwest of the city. Yet again, we had a house full of boxes. This time, I vividly remember arriving to ORD, Chicago O'Hare Airport, in a black hummer limo with cow hide interior. The party atmosphere of this particular vehicle really contradicted my mood at the time, tears streaming down a puffy, red face.
As of August 2010, four more years had been lived, this time an hour and a half southwest of London, England. An incredible amount had been experienced, and a multitude of friends had come and gone; both the benefits and disadvantages of having attended an international school. Once again, the contents of a third house were boxed up; the destination label reading 'Sydney, Australia', my state of mind reading 'melancholy'.
I owe it to my father for his work and my mother for her incredible support. This is my "life story".
