A concept embracing the people who welcome challenges, side quests, and everything in between.
From our guests’ captivating stories filled with twists and turns in ZIGZAG STORIES, to the authentic expression of our writers in ZIGZAG OFF YOUR CHEST, our magazine aims to inspire people to carve their own path, no matter how unconventional.
Our guests have also provided some tips, words of wisdom, and knowledge they feel might be of guidance to others — found within the ZIGZAG RECOMMENDS section.
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Not Like the Other Boys: A Conversation with Karl
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Daring to Seek Happiness in an Uncertain World: Ashlie’s Story
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Nontypical: Where Marketing Meets Daytime Raving
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Cooking up a Legacy: A Conversation with Chris
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The Power of the ‘Delusional’ Mindset: A Conversation with Scott
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The Pursuer of Ideas: A conversation with Jon
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Travel, Medicine, and Life in Malta: A Conversation with Simone
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Never Too Late: A Conversation with Bryan
Article by Jade Grech
For most, the topic of neurodivergence has only been cropping up in recent years. Yet, for many, it’s their everyday lived experience. At the age of 18, Karl Vince Mifsud was diagnosed with both autism and ADHD. However, his journey through understanding his neurodivergence started much earlier than that.
Mentions of autism were already coming up when Karl was in primary school. Despite him steadily progressing through his classes, he struggled to understand the concept of writing, instead drawing out the letters. Although this would be cause for concern
developmentally, his teacher at the time opted to get angry and insult him, calling him demeaning words like “stupid”. Due to his struggles, Karl’s mother took him to a child psychologist. While it was apparent that he was actually a very bright child – as he would rattle off the latin meanings of the names of dinosaurs – the psychologist noted that he did have signs of “slight autism”. However, this did not result in a diagnosis, because of fears from the doctor that his growing up would be affected. As such, as Karl got older, he would soon forget this incident.
Growing up, Karl found himself different from other students in his class, especially other boys.
Many call me childish, out-there, annoying. I don’t care.
He didn’t find himself sharing the same interests, and was much quieter in comparison. This resulted in a lot of bullying and isolation, making it hard for him to make friends up until he was in secondary school. When researching information about autism on the internet, Karl started to suspect he may be autistic himself. He brought up the possibility to his parents who then reminded him of the incident that occurred in primary. From then, the label of autism resonated with him, and he found support from his friends when he told them about this. In fact, it was another neurodivergent friend of his who fully guided him to getting officially diagnosed with autism and later on ADHD when entering MCAST.
However, despite any obstacles that could have been caused by not being diagnosed earlier, Karl finds that he prefers to have been diagnosed later. Like that, he is able to provide his family with the correct information about neurodivergence as misinformation continues to spread on the topic. This is something that he finds disheartening as there is still so much for society to learn about and accommodate for when it comes to neurodivergent people.
A lack of accommodation or awareness was often present in different institutions such as
school or work. Karl described that one work environment of his felt very hostile to not just neurodivergent people, but other disabilities as well, making it an uncomfortable experience. On the other hand, there has been his current workplace in which despite not mentioning his own conditions, he still felt very welcomed due to the place’s willingness to acknowledge these topics. The more people are willing to learn, the safer the spaces are for others.
Despite his very mixed experience, Karl still believes in self-expression more than ever. There is no need to hide who he is for the sake of presenting as “normal”. His interests in dinosaurs, magic, and mythology may seem childish to some, but they are a major part of who he is, and he carries that with pride. Alongside this, he ensures that the environments he is in are suited to his needs, and he will not settle for less. While this did make job-searching harder, it ultimately ended up with him in a job he experiences greater satisfaction in as opposed to if he had just lowered his standards.
Being neurodivergent played a vital role in Karl’s life. From his interactions with others to how he views the world, even when unaware of it, it affected his experiences in his life and will continue to do so.
“I express myself freely. It caused me problems before, but it’s not a me issue. It’s a them issue”
Article by Laura Martin
I had the pleasure of interviewing Dubalejo, Makenda and Naarly, the co-founders of a fresh and unique marketing collective in Malta. Their events have created an inescapable buzz on social media. In this exclusive ZIGZAG interview, we discussed how the collective came together, the Maltese party scene, their distinct Nontypical marketing approach and the unique and diverse community their work has fostered.
Initially an upcoming DJ, Naarly wanted a space where they could share their music with a familiar and diverse community rather than seeking gigs elsewhere. They met Makenda at a party and decided to utilise her marketing background for collaboration, organising the
first Nontypical party. Dubalejo was the missing piece of the collective, providing the visual and content creation aspect with a Gen Z-orientated touch. Each member brings something different to the table, but together they maintain a cool dynamic and a collective desire to establish a social scene that Malta was missing.
We all know the late nights in Paceville fuelled by cheap drinks, late nights and hangovers. While secret parties have been popular with certain groups in Malta, Nontypical identified a gap in day parties, specifically in unexpected locations like brunch spots and cafes. Makenda, Dubalejo and Naarly wanted to create a highly sought-after alternative to this style of partying that is already established in many other cities.
“One really common thing that you hear at our events is people saying finally, someone is doing this. It’s not something that we invented, it’s something we brought to Malta”.
These events are currently invite-only, to control numbers and keep the parties free. Their events are the catalyst for the brand’s name, as Nontypical
encapsulates the dynamic, vibe and approach.
Naarly, Makenda and Dubalejo may be able to throw a killer party, but their intentions for the collective go further than that. They work as a marketing concept with clients, using space activation to transform their space into something new.
“We go to the place, we activate the space. It’s called space activation. The marketing enhances everything”
By organising parties in unexpected places, Nontypical elevates those locations and invites new audiences to their customer base. The three marketing gurus work with the respective employees of
a community which makes up 28 percent of the Maltese population. While most secret events in Malta are organised and attended by those within Maltese communities, Nontypical has a desire to create a diverse and fulfilling community for both ex-pats and Maltese people, which is where their growth is rooted.
brands and locations that host their parties, and emphasize the brand values the company wishes to express with an event. Through their unparalleled communication strategy, Nontypical can create a new vibe for the location they’re working with.
The Nontypical emphasis on space activation rather than event marketing has allowed the collective to remain an invite-only space. Initially, this was a necessity, but it has created a FOMO dynamic and boosted the brand on social media. Those who are not invited can see the party on YouTube and Instagram, with no prior knowledge of its happening. Nontypical have fostered authentic demand through this. The FOMO is not constructed by the content but by the people interacting with it.
“We wanted something for us as well. We missed these types of events from home”.
The collective knew that they weren’t the only expats who felt this way, but also recognised the importance of bridging the gap between locals and foreigners. Nontypical are a diverse trio, and they believe this helps attendees recognise the open and community-based approach to their brand. The vibe and atmosphere at their events accelerate this brand value — everyone is welcome, regardless of their background. Even the music played at the events is carefully planned out. The goal is to create a chilled and welcoming vibe with music catering to all different tastes. While it is difficult for the team to create complete inclusivity while obtaining an invite-only policy, they focus on rotating the crowd at different events to allow new people to attend.
Nontypical is more than just a brand - it’s three unique individuals coming together to create a fresh and fun atmosphere in the Malta party scene. The movement that Makenda, Dubalejo and Naarly have fostered is rooted in connection and inclusivity, values that Malta will always be open to. In the future, the trio plans on continuing their work and expanding their brand, but will always remain refreshingly non-typical.
Article by Tasha Schembri
It’s not everyday that you get the chance to drill your sibling on their career choices, screwups, alter egos, and thought process (this all while being on camera) – but lucky for me, that day came sooner rather than later.
And while the name ‘Scott Schembri’ places a particular image in people’s brains, most don’t actually know how Scott got to where he is, and the millions of rollercoasters he rode to develop into the person he’s become.
Contrary to popular belief, Scott wasn’t always viewed as an asshole in the eyes of the public. His humble beginnings, in fact, trace back to his days at MCAST, where he was studying art and design. This led to the rise (and fall) of his very first business, Torri l-Aħmar, one which I remember very vividly.
As a 19-year-old newbie designer, Scott found a partner
within his course whom he worked extremely well with.
The issue?
They weren’t the only ones producing digital prints of iconic Maltese landscapes, and the pandemic didn’t make that any easier. Soon enough, Scott realised a business like this was not an easy one to scale, having made the difficult decision to move on.
He was later faced with the beloved COVID-19 restrictions, which deemed going to a gym, something so intertwined into Scott’s routine, impossible. The very few (and run-down) outdoor gyms available were also viewed as a danger zone, forcing Scott, and many others, to quite literally scrap their fitness routine.
With a lack of outdoor gyms, the most obese country in Europe, and a mentality skewed far away from healthy living, Scott committed himself fully to the cause.
I didn’t have anything special above anyone else...I always had this fire, I always wanted to do more and prove more, and just be hungry for it – like a lion.
And just like that, Bulletproof Culture was born, in the middle of a pandemic, when awareness on fitness and health was more important than ever.
Early days focused on projects like Project Robinhood –targeting the lack of outdoor gyms, working with local fitness trainers and nutritionists, and building a local community – all to inspire, motivate and educate.
I asked Scott what was going through his head after having failed with his first business, knowing the same could happen with his new one – especially in a whole other industry.
“I was never scared about it failing. I think I was more certain it was going to be a successful project because there was an actual impact
to what we were doing,” he answered.
This thought process and mentality is what would prove essential later on in his career when venturing into another business and another challenge –Fight Island and Scott’s notorious Project 360 challenge.
If you had to ask me back then what witnessing it all was like – I’d probably say “a blur between absolutely hilarious and absolutely ridiculous”. Now, I’d say his mindset and the local pressure are what made it all possible.
Last year’s New Year’s Resolutions weren’t quite doing it for Scott – he had spent New Year’s Eve totally sober in Valletta (unheard of for him at the time), with plans to cut out alcohol and completely change his lifestyle.
And what better way to do this than to create a similar concept on his fitness platform Bulletproof? So Project 360 was born – a challenge whereby Scott would take on one physical and mental goal and make this happen by the end of the year, with the aim of encouraging other people to do the same – sharing similar struggles, setbacks and challenges.
“Becoming” a professional boxer in a year was decided on, and the video was launched.
Locals weren’t too impressed, though, and the backlash was harsh. People called him out, commented on his posts, attacked him from fake accounts – with the hopes of discouraging him from taking on such a challenge, especially when others who came before him took years to earn that same “pro boxer” title.
This same heat only fuelled his goal all the more, helping him to branch into another business, Fight Island, which quickly became the biggest boxing event the Maltese Islands had ever seen.
The first amateur fight was won, barely, but still a win for Scott nonetheless.
Preparation for his first professional fight and second Fight Island event was far from easy – training twice daily as well as changing round his diet. He did this while also managing the organisation of the event at the same time – its media, campaigns, fight cards, and selling of tickets.
These challenges still didn’t set him off track, only pushing him more, taking him to the win and securing his ‘pro’ title.
The power of the underdog is quite a powerful one, and completing Project 360 –with all its setbacks – proved this beautifully, shedding light on this ‘delusional mindset’.
Having worked with some of the biggest names in the industry (Dejan Stipke, Stan Browney, Mike Thurston, Jasmina Svilenova, among others) also added to that fuel –
“We learnt that we’re not that far away from our idols – that was the best boost for us. They say never meet your heroes, I disagree. These guys are normal guys, just like us,” Scott stated.
He later proved this, together with his partner Adam Sullivan and the Bulletproof team, through one of their biggest projects to date, the Free Gyms Campaign – a collaboration with the government set to provide a 6-month free gym membership to all 18, 19 and 20-year-olds in Malta and Gozo.
And for tips to anyone listening or reading, Scott urged people to do whatever it is that makes them happy, to try that ‘delusional’ career change, take on that next challenge, and be the person they truly want to, because someday soon, “we’ll all be seven feet under, and no one will remember us”.
Free, relaxed, and selfproclaimed ever-changing, Simone Bottai navigates life with a sense of adventure and optimism. From growing up in a small town in Italy, to studying medicine at the University of Malta, he’s lived a life full of twists and turns, embracing new experiences with a constant curiosity.
From the age of 11, Simone started working up until he graduated. He attended university, studying physics for a year and a half, until he was offered a job working on wind turbines. Eventually, he got tired of his small town and decided to join a friend on a three-month trip, visiting countries like Spain, France, and Morocco. It wasn’t long after he returned to Italy that he resolved to try living abroad.
Living in London was certainly different. From the quiet seclusion of small-town life to the bustling atmosphere of a large city—it had to be exciting. He spoke English, worked at a Chinese restaurant, then moved on to working at a pub, enjoying all that it had to offer. But not every change
was a welcome one. As you can imagine, loving the outdoors, the sun, and the sea, made it difficult to stay in a rainy city like London, so he booked a ten-day trip back to Italy.
Unfortunately, he was met by more rain, which prompted him to fly to Malta. There, having finally found what he’d been searching for, he quit his job in London and made the move. He soon felt at home, quickly making friends and getting a job in construction. Since moving in 2014, he now has a career giving tours, as he plans to stay and complete his studies to become a doctor.
After the pandemic, Simone decided he needed to do something more, when all of a sudden, he started receiving books on his desk about neurology and psychiatry. He has two people to mention for the motivation they gave him to go to university again. One of them having offered words of encouragement; and the other not seeing it as a good idea at all—the same person who left him those books thinking they would discourage him.
In the ten days that I spent in Malta, I made more friends in those ten days, than spending one year in London.
All of a sudden I had this feeling that, ok, this is something I’ve always done and the only thing that never changed, and so, I had the opportunity to prove to myself that I could do it.
a tour guide, doing kayaking, paddleboarding, mountain biking, and climbing. Speaking of which, kayaking is actually how he met his girlfriend, who just recently proposed to him.
After spending ten years together, she made her plan and bought the ring. They’d gone for a swim, and as he got out of the water, she asked him to marry her. This was no surprise to Simone though, as he’d told her when they first met that if she wanted to get married, she’d have to ask— doing it on her terms, just like they’d promised.
This only made him want to prove himself more, as he realised medicine has always been a constant in his life, from the way he used to play when he was young, to the books he used to read with his mum. Always having a curious mind and a love of science, studying came naturally; and at the age of 32 he did his A-Levels. Making that choice is never easy, but taking from his words, questioning ourselves is inevitable and shouldn’t mean we are discouraging ourselves.
To study medicine felt like fulfilling his calling (in spite of the exam nerves). Now in his second year, he balances university life with his job as
So how has Simone managed to lead such a fulfilling life? He draws inspiration from his grandfather’s relaxed outlook, believing that anger and negativity are simply wasted energy. He also lives by his father’s words—to smile— because, as his father would say, life is beautiful. To Simone, success means having the freedom to do what you want without arbitrary restraints. Mistakes don’t matter to him; its how he responds to them that truly counts.
Article by Laura Martin ASHLIE’S
The world we live in is unpredictable – sometimes you don’t get the job you wanted, or a relationship ends unexpectedly. For Ashlie Davis, the unpredictable included a near-death experience, a natural disaster and a loss that changed her life.
Ashlie grew up in Wisconsin and lived there for most of her life. She grew up in a religious family and experienced Midwestern America at its strongest. She went to college to study medicine and aspired to work with Doctors Without Borders. She was inspired to help others after embarking on a mission trip to Haiti in 2001.
Her work in this field came to a halt in 2005, when Hurricane Katrina hit. Ashlie had experienced severe weather conditions before and had even driven in blizzards, but this hurricane was unlike anything she could have expected.
“Hurricanes and their destruction were not something I was used to or knew how to deal with”.
Ashlie stayed with a friend on a college campus in Mississippi and tried to protect herself from the destruction. She remembers watching college students run around like crazy, get hit by trees and bang on
doors in an attempt to reach safety. Ashlie revealed that the hardest part of living through this was that no one had any power or service. She was away from her mother and the rest of her family, and had no way to confirm their safety or declare her own. This experience began to shape Ashlie’s life is short mindset – and reminded her that life is valuable.
After the hurricane, Ashlie decided to take a career break. When she returned, she started working in events as a membership coordinator and registration manager. This line of work required her to move around the States, and sparked her taste for travelling.
really changed who I am.
Ashlie was always close to her grandmother. She encouraged Ashlie to go to church, as the
When she passed away, Ashlie had the worst year of her life. She stopped participating in organised religion and channelled her faith into spirituality, clinging to her values of helping others.
“If I can improve the day of someone around me, I’ll do it”.
Ashlie’s grandmother always encouraged her to see the world and leave her small town. However, a life-changing event was on her horizon – an illness that nearly killed her at 35.
“Covid really changed who I am”.
Ashlie became sick with COVID, and the virus left her with double pneumonia. She was admitted to the critical care unit. When she was released, the hospital didn’t give her oxygen for another 3 months, and in that time her lungs began to collapse. After receiving oxygen, doctors came to the realisation she was dying without it.
“ I was starting to die - it made a change in me. I had to make myself happy”.
Being sick reminded Ashlie of the lessons she learned after Hurricane Katrina. She began to see life as precious and stopped caring about small, insignificant details. Ashlie recalled a time her niece dropped a carton of eggs and was stunned that she wasn’t in trouble – Ashlie didn’t care. Being healthy and safe was all that mattered.
These experiences inspired her to live her life to the fullest. Living in Milwaukee came with a sense of unease for Ashlie. She often experienced racial abuse and felt disconnected from the city. She was offered a job with a French tech company that required travelling, and she knew she had to take it. This led to her relocation to Malta, where she has lived for the last few years. Ashlie saw Malta as a fresh start, a place she could heal from traumatic experiences.
Article by Kathleen Spiteri Hogan
The owner of restaurant gem Ta’ Kris, Chris Cassar, has established himself as an iconic figure of the Maltese culinary industry. From watching his father manage his restaurant, to realising his own lifelong dream of running one, his story is a testament to the power of perseverance— proving that no dream is too distant to chase.
Chris’s culinary journey started with his father—an engineer who, by chance, stumbled upon the perfect location for a restaurant while out with a friend. Wasting no time, he seized the opportunity, and opened his Mdina restaurant in 1976. It became a staple of Chris’s daily life, immersing him in the culinary world from a young age, as he would help out at the restaurant every day after school.
It wasn’t always easy— especially with the responsibility of keeping the restaurant running after his father went home at five o’clock. While Chris enjoyed working with his family, by the age of 16, he still hadn’t had a proper wage, having to
rely on tips and to manage his money wisely. And so, after spending so much of his life at the restaurant, he wasn’t quite sure what to do, opting to study catering management after finishing school.
Fortunately, a friend called him one day to say that his boss would like to talk, just as his father’s restaurant was closing after 20 years of business. By the very next day, Chris landed a job at the newly opened Diplomat Hotel. It was no simple adjustment, but borrowing from his own words, we all crave new experiences eventually.
He left The Diplomat Hotel in search of something more, but things didn’t quite go as he’d hoped. He took a position at The Westin, becoming the second person hired at this hotel still under construction. It wasn’t exactly as he had envisioned, but the hands-on experience in guest service he still considers invaluable. With that chapter behind him, he knew it was finally time to pursue the dream he’d set aside—opening a restaurant of his own.
You have to really want it. Because the ifs and the buts that you find coming towards you are very hard to ignore.
It becomes like home. You spend more time there than you do at home. Its sad to leave something that you built from nothing, but I’m trying to persuade myself into enjoying the adventure.
The culinary industry being his only passion, Chris found his restaurant in the form of an eight-year-old bakery tucked away in Sliema. The moment he walked inside, he couldn’t help but picture all that he’d wanted to build for so long. He was so confident that it was the right fit, he signed a 25-year contract, completely disregarding the doubts surrounding its location.
He wanted a place that would make Maltese food, often wondering why there were so few restaurants that offered traditional home-cooking. His idea made it difficult to get the permits he needed, as they told him it had to be either a first class or themed restaurant. Refusing to back down, he drew them up a menu just like they’d asked, even though his place
was still under renovation—a menu mostly the same to this day.
But no success is without its future obstacles. In spite of Ta’ Kris’s enduring popularity, the recent expiration of Chris’s contract meant he’d had no choice but to relocate. Though he hoped to stay in Sliema, close to the community he’d built over the years, he’s now moved to Gżira. The new space required a complete overhaul, with changes still underway as he remains hopeful it’ll be finished soon.
While he understands the move may not be what his customers expected, he reassures themthat the heart of Ta’ Kris remains unchanged—a warm, welcoming space meant to feel
just like home. After all, why should he seek to alter such an adored, lasting business, so loved by so many?
It’s easy to understand why Chris is so determined to preserve the legacy he’s built. Throughout his life, he’s embraced an outlook that not only led to professional success, but that also brought him a deeper sense of fulfillment, rooted in the courage to follow his passion. For Chris, success isn’t measured by money, but by the joy of doing what he loves and seeing others value his work. He’s turned setbacks into motivation, always pushing forward.
As he puts it, with the right mindset, there’s no obstacle that can’t be overcome.
Article by Tasha Schembri
Open up a Maltese TV channel, he’s there.
Scroll on social media, there.
A local film you’ve watched recently? He might’ve even written or produced it. Maltese rap? He’s done it too.
Voluntary projects? Come on, wasn’t this obvious?
Multiple personas – yet all blending so seamlessly into the same creative, Mr Jon Mallia.
The question, ‘Who is Jon Mallia?’, therefore, renders itself a rather tedious one, and labels become quite ill-fitting.
For what is a label? And what aspect, element or facet of one’s character, career or existence would be chosen to create this same label?
As a “pursuer of ideas” with a gift in writing and lyricism from a young age, Jon immersed himself into an industry which was widely untouched on the Maltese islands – music and rap.
The talent was evident, the hunger for Maltese rap palpable. And so, Jon’s music career began, having immersed himself into Sixth Simfoni, and later, No Bling Show.
Tours, both local and international, placed a great deal of importance onto the young musicians during their glory days in Sixth Simfoni. While their careers were about to take off, the band’s management proved weaker than its members’ talent, rendering Sixth Simfoni a project that merely could have been great.
Having reflected on the advent of the band, Jon’s regrets lie in not directing the group when it clearly needed him, with past band members having
admitted they considered him to be the group’s leader, they later told Jon. No Bling show was just around the corner, though. Innovative music videos, an eye for directing, and writing some of the very first Maltese rap, Jon excelled with this project, telling a story of an entire generation of lost youth, as he put it.
And while music and rap became relatively defining factors of Jon’s public persona, they were not viable long-term career options for Jon, though he still runs on the treadmill and raps in his head, from time to time.
They did, however, place him in very unique situations, drawing in some rather interesting projects. Breaking Limits, a non-profit initiative aimed at teaching disabled children how to breakdance, and Hiphop is Yours, a project aimed at teaching inmates how to channel their emotions through rap, became ones that Jon held very close to his heart.
There’s no way I can describe Jon’s journey without his love for writing. In the early days, Jon would write raps for friends. Later, he took this on screen – with projects like Never After, the Jenny Wilder Tapes (which is in the works) and Kaxxaturi – having earned a widespread portfolio in the local media scene, which later helped push him into the hosting realm.
Jon also dabbled in directing and producing – with his creative direction in No Bling Show’s music videos, amongst other projects, and his producing in Limestone Cowboy – ventures which brought along their own challenges, life lessons, and ‘mindset shifts’.
While colleagues were concerned about more trivial issues, Jon’s ability to work under pressure (no doubt when placed in the belly of the beast that is film production) scaled way higher than it had on other projects. With a solid work ethic and an inability to take a day off, Jon’s schedule was (and still is to a certain extent) full, the difference being that larger responsibilities had to be prioritised later on in life – like raising children, paying off loans and working with employees.
Jon’s advice in this regard was simple – “do it now”. Want to learn how to play the piano? Do it now. Want to learn how to dive? Do it now. Want to become a boxer? Now.
In following his own advice, Jon took on a project many at the time were also trying out – the blessed podcast.
And while Jon may have never felt confident in the formal education he received, he grabbed the opportunity and used the podcast as a means of lifelong learning.
Guest after guest, week after week, Jon invited some of the most knowledgeable figures within their respective fields, and asked the questions we’d all want to know. Regardless of how frustrating his prior educational experience was, Jon absorbed the knowledge of his interviewees like a sponge, continuing to grow throughout the process.
Tests, homework and exams may have been dreaded, the same cannot be said for Jon’s research in his professional career – a skill he displays exceptionally well when hosting Il-Każin, his latest hosting project.
“Debating is the purest form of avoiding violence”, Jon stated.
This is what motivated him to begin the televised programme. If people talk, they can share their opinions. If they share their opinions, they can disagree. If they disagree, there is common ground for bettering a situation, and an attempt at solving the issue.
The funny thing about labelling people is that we sometimes forget that they are, well, people – with day-to-day lives, and families, and problems, and life scenarios we know nothing about, most of the time.
And in our discussion, Jon not only walked me through his ‘zigzag’ career, but how he manages to do all this while also being a husband and a father. What I later found out was that he not only fits these elements into his schedule impressively well, but also tries to give back to the next generation – of students, creatives, artists – and anyone young with a dream.
He sees potential, and he feels obliged to help out.
Jon Mallia – a man of many talents, career changes, stories, and reasons to give back.
My advice to younger people is now man. Do it now.
Article by Jade Grech
Starting university right after post-secondary is often the expected move for young people to make. However, Bryan Corlett has recently been circulating amongst Maltese media for being the oldest University of Malta graduate at the age of 72 with a diploma in journalism.
Despite passing his exams to go to university, at 20 years old Bryan decided to take time off from schooling. Instead, he opted to take on other jobs, one of them being in construction and then moved to Australia for three years where he was a hard rock miner.
Eventually, he backpacked across America on a spiritual journey, guided by his questions of which direction to take in life. He found his answer on a cold
evening in New York in a shady part of town, where a woman randomly approached him. Suspicious at first, Bryan was relieved to learn she was a woman of faith, even if he wasn’t a Chrisitan at the time.
Through her, and his upbringing in Catholicism, he learnt of the Unification Movement – a movement that believes in joining others from different cultural backgrounds until reaching a unified human race. This is referred to as ‘matching’, and it can happen between any two people, joined together to be wed by the founder of the movement, Sun Myung Moon. After being part of the movement for three years, Bryan got matched to a Maltese woman. They spent over a year not seeing each other while still keeping in contact before getting married in a mass wedding – a typical practice of the
I don’t think in life I’ve had many regrets.
movement – alongside 2,075 couples in Madison Square Garden.
After getting married, Bryan soon moved to Malta and started his family there, having his four daughters. At first, he struggled to find work, having to work on an oil rig until he was allowed to work legally. Once permitted, he started his business, Casa Natura, a health food shop in Sliema.
Though, starting this business was not an easy journey. Due to Maltese Legislation at the time, vitamins were considered to be medication and as such required a license to be sold. As Bryan did not have the license for this, he ended up in and out of court for 5 years, justifying the use of selling his products.
This debate was so widespread at the time that in an episode of Xarabank – a popular Maltese talk show – during a discussion on this topic, Bryan’s own product was held up on screen as an example of products being imported into Malta, landing him into a lot of heated controversy. Eventually, when things settled down, Bryan was able to take a short course
and would continue to run his business for almost 35 years, only recently having sold it.
It was within the last few years that Bryan took on his journalism diploma in an attempt to understand the media landscape better and to further help his own write-ups for the Malta Rugby Football Union. The university space was a new one for Bryan, and it was initially difficult to navigate a different environment that other students were already familiar with. Bryan even recalls retaining old habits from his time at school, when he stood up in class as the lecturer arrived, despite no other student doing so. However, through the support of his family and eventually the students within his own class, Bryan was able to thrive and enjoy his time at university. Starting university later on in life was not a deterrent for him, and people still continue to cheer him on for his efforts.
Now having graduated, and selling his business, new paths can be made for Bryan to venture. As per his own suggestion, maybe even writing a book.
My friend asked me what I knew about this girl, and I told her. In that moment, I had just created a person.
Everyone sees me as a different person.
Some hate me for a lie I told when I was 18. Others love me for an act of kindness when I was 12. I am an amalgamation of point of views.
I am a pattern of others’ ideas, of quotations, of scraps.
Looking in anxiety questioning how everyone sees me. I try to decipher myself and I wake
up in the morning and search on Pinterest for an outfit to recreate, I sit down and read a book to rewrite, I act
differently around different people, send messages hoping for forgiveness, hold back in arguments, swallow tears in confrontation. All to preserve the constructed being that I carefully curated.
It is not neatly woven, but bunched together to fit into a plagiarised palimpsest of a person. It is stitched, gauged, and blocked. Twisted by effort, knotted by expectation. I want to be one thing. But I can’t be. I try, and try again, I am a product of perceptions that purl and plain. But I still resist it.
A piece by Julianne Caruana
An opinion piece by Amy Borg
The day I received my English and Maltese A-Level results seems like a good place to start. It was the summer of 2021, and I had just left behind two years of sixth form at St. Aloysius College. During the years leading up to that moment, I had heard a lot about this towering place
called University. It seemed to me this expansive sea where baby fish are left to fend for themselves, to sink or swim. All day, my Facebook feed was flooded with happy announcements posted by friends who were going to start studying law or medicine— friends who had promising, clear-cut roads ahead of them.
As I sat next to my best friend and mother, my puffy, tearstained cheeks reflecting the glow of a July moon, the exam results I had received earlier that day did not seem to me the key that would unlock an exciting future.
They felt like a death sentence.
Here’s the thing though.
The interesting part in all of this, and perhaps, the irony of this piece appearing in a publication called ZIGZAG, is that my personal journey has always been a stubborn straight line—a line that stretches on and on, indifferent to the fact that it does not know where it’s going (as I was drafting this piece, I had originally written that the line did not know “exactly” where it was going, but writing that it had “no idea at all” where it was going was a fairer assessment). Its driving force was my penchant for all things language, and a distant yet vivid memory of sitting on my grandfather’s lap at six years old, looking for rhyming words in the furniture around us.
That summer, that stubborn straight line started to blur. The blurriness was mainly caused by a sense of guilt that, somehow, all my life, I had made all the wrong career choices. On top of that, I feared that all those accumulated errors had led me down a dead-end street, and strayed me away from the ‘one true calling’ which could have satisfied and made me happy. I ended up coyly, unsurely
signing up for a BA in English and Maltese.
comforting epiphany. Essentially, the grass is greener where you water it. Happiness
A poem by Nicole Zammit
Ismek ktibtu fid-djarju iktar minn kemm-il darba lissintu.
Nuża biro blu tal-istabilo–s’issa ktibt 50 paġna, turini.
Ġieli nħit ukoll, inħit u naħseb fuqek, u naqbeż punt, bħal ma jimxu l-konversazzjonijiet tagħna: minn punt għal ieħor.
Waqt li nkellmek nibża’ li jaħrabli minn idi r-romblu ta’ ħajt iswed.
Jiżżarma, u nipprova nerġa’ ndawru mal-biċċa kartun li kien ippustjat magħha, imma ma jiġix pulit kif kien, u kollox ifaqqa’ bit-tensjoni
Nobgħod lili nnifsi għax naf li kellek bżonn titraqqa’.
Xtaqt li jkolli l-kuraġġ ngħidlek xi ktibt xtaqt li nurik il-biro u d-djarju bl-istickers ta’ tfuliti u xtaqt li tibda’ tħobbni iżjed taqbadni f’idejk u tgħidli li tħossok l-istess u nikteb fuq kemm għidtli li tħobbni.
Iżda bżajt għax jekk tinfaqa’ l-biro u tintela’ linka tiċċappas kollok, u tgħid li kien tort tiegħi.
Tristan Muscat
“Good Morning!”
“Hey, how’s it going?”
“Nice to meet you.”
These are all common sentences you utter without a second thought. I mean, why would you? It’s not like if you trip over your own words, you’ll activate an explosive device that obliterates everything within a two-mile radius, sending everyone to suffer into an eternal pit of despair. Well, in the mind of a stutterer, it kind of does.
Welcome to my world.
C-contrary to what y-you believe, our stuttering doesn’t magically present itself in text as well. This is also not a product of being shy (though, incidentally, I am). Stuttering is a condition where individuals struggle to produce a normal fluency of speech. This occurs through repetition of words, sounds, or syllables, prolongation of sounds, and speech interruptions known as blocks.
To put it simply, think of a moment when you were so excited or furious about something that words couldn’t escape your mouth. Now, imagine feeling that way all the time. Isn’t that frustrating? I promise it’s not all bad, though. I mean, where else am I supposed to get my jokes from? (or at least try to). Granted, stuttering is not something I appreciated about myself for years, but it’s got its charm, and like my day-to-day speech, it’s occasionally still very tough to come to terms with. It’s especially tough when there’s not much representation to turn to—not just in the real world but even in fiction.
How often do you encounter a stuttering character in books you read or movies you watch?
This overlooked condition deserves awareness, which is why I’m writing this article. As you can imagine, living with a stutter—something so rarely spoken about—can be challenging. You can quickly start to feel like an outsider in your very own world because
not many can grasp the weight of the struggle. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been looked at strangely by people as I got stuck mid-conversation. One of my worst experiences was forcing myself to deliver a presentation in front of a whole class. I never stuttered more heavily in my life. There aren’t enough words to express the embarrassment I felt through my ten-minute speech. The pursuit of a decent grade became a distant thought.
My only longing was to reach the final slide, so I wouldn’t have to keep facing the blank stares before me.
That day, my fear wasn’t just in my head anymore. I was different, and this time, everyone knew it. This experience captures how I feel on a regular basis when trying to complete everyday tasks like making a phone call, shopping, ordering food at a restaurant or even talking with friends or family. In an instant, my struggles are on display to everyone and there’s nothing I can do to hide it.
You may ask, “why did you force yourself to do this?” Honestly, I felt like I had to. Throughout my life, I was bombarded with comments like “stop feeling afraid,” or “I expect you to at least try speaking in front of people!” We as a society tend to focus so much on finding the solution to problems that we disregard the true issue. If I never learned how to control my stammer, how was I expected to not feel afraid or try public speaking?
To all my fellow stutters who may be reading this, you are not a problem that needs to be fixed. Don’t let these types of dismissive statements make you question yourself. Of course, stepping outside your comfort zone is important—it is by challenging your limits that you can reach the other side of fear. But it doesn’t happen overnight. Only you know when you’re ready to take that step.
If you aren’t ready, that’s okay. Never be afraid to ask for what you need. You are heard. You are seen. You matter.
Ħajti qtar iqattar minn miżieb imxellef, musfar. Jinżel bla ħoss, jifforma għadira dmugħ mal-art.
Li jaħasra kien jinġabar ġewwa ġarra tal-fuħħar, kien jimlieha, ifawwarha b’xenqiet bojod daqs is-sħab. Imma l-ġarra mtaqqba, fiergħa, u x-xenqiet jevaporaw.
Jien nistenna x-xita ġejja minn imkejjen bogħod minn haw’. Jalla tasal tlanġas qawwi ħa ssaqqini
ħa taħjini, biex bi qtari fl-art jisponta kollu fwieħa l-ġiżimin.
Who I Say I Am – or Who They Say I Am? Am I
An Opinion Piece by Juliana Zammit
I don’t know who I am.
Whenever I have to speak about myself, list likes and dislikes, I don’t really know what to say.
There are moments where I pause and ask myself “who am I really?”, and I find myself lost for words. I’m not who I am to my parents, to strangers, to acquaintances who only know fragments. But me.
Stripped from performance, expectation, approval. Just me.
The more I think about it, the more I realise how much of my identity has been shaped by the gaze of others. It’s something we all do, often without noticing.
Some time ago, I came across Charles Cooley’s ‘Looking Glass Self’ theory through a school
project – the theory that we build our self-concept based on how we believe others perceive us.
This made me more aware of the people around me, you could say: I remember I saw this woman walk by, and the way she looked got me thinking, “is this who she really wants to be or what society thinks she is?”
It made me wonder if this is something I’m doing – defining myself through society’s perception of me. I mean, I don’t hold back my opinions all the time, but I do try to analyse a situation and think of the consequences before speaking or acting.
Even if we don’t realise it, we somehow end up becoming reflections of other people’s opinions, crafting our identity around imagined judgements. It’s exhausting. And at some point, it becomes difficult to tell whether you’re living for yourself or for everyone else.
I discovered the feeling of sonder – that realisation that everyone around you, the people on the bus, the classmates you barely talk to, even the strangers passing by have a life as complex, emotional, and layered as your own.
They carry memories you’ll never see, dreams you’ll never hear about, and insecurities you’ll never know exist.
Honestly, knowing everyone has their own intricate world makes life feel better. Despite the problems, whether they’re everyday or long-term ones, it makes you feel less alone – like we’re all in this together even though we live separately.
Then I connected the dots: if everyone else has a world of their own, constantly evolving, then who are they to define mine? Who am I to define theirs? We live in a society that tries to make things easier by placing people in boxes.
Neat, simplified versions of complex individuals.
You’re this or you’re that. You fit or you don’t. You follow the path or you’re called ‘lost.’
But identity isn’t a straight line. It’s messy, layered with contradictions, growth, and rediscovery. And most importantly, it should be ours to define.
There’s no one way to be. You can be loud and quiet. Strong and soft. Brave yet afraid. You can be learning and unlearning all at once.
Sometimes I still fall into the trap of wondering what people think of me. I still hear past criticisms ringing in my ear, and I still experience criticism. But I remind myself that their vision of me is just that – theirs.
It’s neither the truth nor the full story. We all deserve the freedom to become who we are – not who others say we should be.
So, am I who I say I am? Or who they say I am?
Maybe I’m still figuring that out. But for the first time, I’m choosing to listen to myself a little bit louder than I listen to them.
A poem by Maria Anna Mifsud
My thoughts drift to an epiphany bestowed onto me. A realisation of the emotion the world keeps trying to prove itself to. The presence of Love within the universe And its Power overriding the terror and conflict of the earth. It is said to be a healing remedy shared Through the touch of two prophesised hearts. However, the more I ponder to myself about this source of magic, The less I believe this universal statement.
For Love is not the feeling that is going to burst out of you In a wildfire of fireworks exploding and popping, Nor the obligation of responsibility through drops of blood and a tree that ties.
It is neither the words sprawled out in your mind With indecisive thoughts of which matches Love better, And neither the voice of admiration Which talks to you in a soothing voice, Murmuring lovely phrases into a healing heart. A lovely experience That much is true, However, love is linked To what you do.
Love is the act, Not the speech. It is stated through the languages of hands that take initiative And not the legs that are still as they stand.
Love is shared through the pouring of a drink and the clinking of glasses, Followed by chatter and advice that’ll sit with you through the night, Making you realise “They were right, It’s time to make a change. Follow my own light.”
And it’s shown through a friendship That understands not just listens; Who takes notice to a lowered chin
And the tears that have stained but remain hidden. The thread that distinguishes a casual friend to one that is trusting, Who will sit with you in silence Whilst your mind is trying to grasp What is lenient and what is broken. Who will make you think, after all has been cleared, “Falling isn’t so bad when there is someone there to catch me, And the tide isn’t so aggressive when I move with it than against it”
It is not merely speaking, It is echo of advocating
For the ones whose chords are tied And throats burning
Through their screams and cries, Silenced by the lies, Said by the ones who claim are The Highs.
It is the extra tip you give to a waiter, For you don’t know whether you’ve just helped them get by Or spared them some time, And the thumbs up to a child
Whose palms are drenched in grease
And feet thumping against the front of the room, Feeling like the simple presentation is their mortal doom, Where because of you their fears subside
From a gruelling monster
To a relieved, happy sigh.
So, I state again.
Love is that act
Who acknowledges the facts
That whoever you are
You are the star
That has been wished upon to come by, And that whenever you cry With bruised knuckles and scraped knees, A broken nose, snotty as it bleeds, Love is the act of gently offering fingers, A soft expression that continues to linger.
That at the end of the day
You will be okay,
For the love you are aching to find, In someone who is kind, Is in the mirror you investigate when the room is lit.
You want love?
You are looking at it.
An opinion piece by Elisa Micallef Peplow
Failure and success. Two concepts so intertwined with the rhythms of our lives, yet so often at odds with each other. They are the very lenses through which we perceive the world, the standards by which we judge ourselves, and ultimately what we allow our lives to be shaped by. But are failure and success inherent truths? Or are they narratives we’ve woven around the moments of triumph and despair that dot the story of our lives?
For generations coming before us, the narrative of success was linear — you started at the bottom, worked your way up, and reached the top. But in today’s ever-evolving world, success and failure can no longer fit neatly within the confines of a definition. To me, success can be found in small acts of resilience, in personal growth, or even just enduring life. In this context, success becomes subjective. Likewise, failure has become more nuanced — an ongoing battle against expectations that never quite fit the shape of one’s existence.
Yet, within this shift toward a broader understanding, there still lingers an unsettling sense of what we should be and who we must become. The preconceptions we hold about success and failure often arise from the ghosts of those who came before us. Generational issues often amplify the weight of these concepts. These generational divides often stem from the very different worlds we inhabit. The struggles of the past may seem quaint in the face of today’s complexities, but they were real. In the years when scarcity was the norm and survival was often a daily concern, success was a hardwon commodity, and failure was something that could have real, even life-threatening, consequences. In that context, the binary of success and failure was more than just philosophical. It was practical. It was about survival.
In the present, however, this binary can seem disjointed, even nonsensical. Success no longer follows a singular path. It is seen in the artist who chooses creative freedom over financial gain, in the activist who strives to change the world without personal glory, in the person who rejects the pursuit of status in favour of spiritual or emotional fulfillment. But even so, the echoes of past ideals of success and failure are never too far behind. We may think we’ve left them behind, but they’re in the Instagram doom-scrolling, in the standards of academia, in the relentless pursuit of perfection. We are constantly measuring ourselves, whether we admit it or not.
And then there is the question of how we deal with failure. Generations past often lacked the language of selfcompassion that we have today. To fail was to be weak, to lack the fortitude required to keep moving forward. This view has evolved, albeit slowly, into a more nuanced understanding. Failure is an invitation to learn, to grow, and to reimagine one’s life. But this reframing doesn’t make failure any easier.
There is no final destination in the pursuit of succes, and no permanent status in failure.
Yet, in our modern world, dealing with failure often means embracing it. It’s about learning to be kinder to ourselves when we don’t meet expectations and letting go of the illusion that we must be perfect. The human condition is defined by its imperfection, and thus, failure, too, becomes part of the narrative of what it means to be truly alive. There is no final destination in the pursuit of success, and no permanent status in failure. These concepts shift with time, with each individual’s choices and each generation’s circumstances. Therein lies the beauty and the tragedy of these concepts; they are always in motion, never quite settling in one place. And even at the worst of times, the sun will keep rising, and we can keep trying.
In the end, perhaps success and failure are less about the outcomes we achieve and more about how we relate to them. They are stories we tell ourselves, stories passed down from one generation to the next, evolving as we do.
For what is life, after all, but the space between success and failure, the fragile balance between where we’ve been and where we are yet to go? And today, after many years of learning and unlearning what success is supposed to look like, I have truly come to believe that this idea that success can be measured with material items and a fancy job title is not what defines who we are; because the things we least expect define the beauty of our existence.
by Laura Martin
As far as I can remember, my first migraine attack happened when I was 7 years old. I was on a sponsored walk with my whole school, trailing behind my classmates on the beach with a blue sky and hot sun beaming above me. Our teachers had planned for us to have a picnic, build sandcastles and draw pictures of the hopeful landscapes we gazed upon. For the rest of the class, this was a day to look forward to, to remember fondly when looking back.
For me, I remember this day as the first time I experienced piercing pain at the back of my head, relentless nausea and extreme sensitivity to light. I went home that day and laid in bed, confused and disappointed by the mysterious illness I had been overcome by.
ZIGZAG OFF YOUR CHEST
Of course, as I grew older my chronic migraine affected me in different ways. I don’t think I ever received a report card that didn’t criticise my poor concentration skills in primary school, and many of my days in secondary school were cut short by the necessary desire to go home early and hide in a dark room. The treatment I received from teachers was mostly understanding, but guidance counsellors and year heads were determined to pinpoint why I was missing so much school.
I couldn’t give them a straight answer.
Although I had visited numerous doctors and specialists, the apprehension to diagnose such a young girl with chronic migraine was
persistent. I spent many days feeling misunderstood and exhaustedly accepted my fate as a below-average student who didn’t care too much about grades or attendance, destined to be mediocre forever.
My unrelenting battle with chronic pain impacted my life not only physically, but also socially. Being a young teenager and constantly explaining my symptoms to those in authority was a burden, and this burden carried over into friendships. I knew I could never maintain the social life I wanted to. I couldn’t commit to parties on the weekend, or coffee after school. I needed to be heard for my struggles, and explaining them to a large circle of friends was not something I had the self-worth to do.
I spent most of my teen years with a small, close-knit group of friends who understood me. At the time, I felt left out and alienated from the girls who knew everyone in school. I have always been social and craved that extroverted experience, but I couldn’t have it. I’ve now been out of school for three years, and despite managing my symptoms and self-esteem a lot better, I still struggle to make connections with new people. I dread the awkward and unpredictable conversation whereby I explain my symptoms and hesitation to commit to plans.
I spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself for the adversity I face. Migraine impacts 10% of the European population, with an even smaller percentage
experiencing chronic symptoms. Chronic migraine sufferers have reported encountering a lower quality of life, fewer interpersonal relationships and a lower success rate at work. Despite these facts, as I’ve gotten older I’ve realised that without migraine and the struggles I have faced with it, I wouldn’t be the person I am today.
“The grass is greener on the other side” is a statement that used to haunt me.
I know that life would have been a lot easier for me without migraine, but the path it has led me down has been wonderful. I have cultivated meaningful and long-lasting relationships with the people who understand me, rather than spending years trying to fit in with groups I didn’t belong with. I have also gained a strong sense of empathy for those around me, and have learned how to best support them through my own experiences. Chronic migraine has also allowed me to shine academically, fuelled by unsuspecting teachers and expectations that I wasn’t able to excel. I have worked harder in jobs, and learned the value of rest when I needed it.
Most importantly, migraine has given me the perspective to redefine worth.
Our society and workforce value non-stop commitment, bubbly personalities and relentless flexibility. This narrative discourages us from keeping in touch with our bodies and responding to signals that we are verging on burnout or fatigue. Being forced to rest wasn’t easy at first, but I’ve come to understand taking time to ourselves is not lazy – it’s necessary. Knowing our self-worth means saying no to drinks with friends or that extra shift in work that needs to be covered and being okay with it. Having migraines forced me to learn this lesson.
Through the ups and downs, good days and bad days, and the emotionally draining experience of having chronic migraine, the main lesson I’ve learned is the grass is not always greener on the other side.
I am a strong believer in the idea that everything happens for a reason, and that our struggles make us stronger. Every path I’ve taken in my life has been dictated by my chronic illness, but I wouldn’t change my life right now for anything.
I will wait in solid form and go through my metamorphosis.
Opinion piece written by J.
Five years ago, I came to realise that I don’t love others the way most do. This realisation was so unceremonious that even now I can hardly recall the details. It had been on my mind for a long time, sure, but this was always such an intrinsic part of me that all I was doing was giving a name to it. Likely, I had done a bit of research, told my friends about it, and called it a day. Though, that’s not to say this part of me is not important. In fact, it is so critically defining that it shaped much of my years growing up. I just didn’t realise it.
I was fresh out of a relationship when I learnt this about myself. If I were to give credit to anything that pushed me to learn who I truly was, it was because of this. Not for any particularly positive reasons though. He was pushy, demanding, and expressing my discomfort was always met with a barrage of anger and arguments that only left me exhausted. I didn’t know it then, but every time I uttered my displeasure with partaking in less-than-savoury activities,
it was another step closer to realising I didn’t like it at all. With anyone. Ever.
Some will tell you that it’s because of my unpleasant experiences that shaped me to be so cold about romance. But it never started from there.
I was sat in my PSCD class as we were being taught about the importance of safe sex. Contraception, tests, and of course, abstinence. The idea of having to carry a child I was not ready for haunted me. It still does.
So, I leaned over to my friend and whispered, “I’ll just wait till I’m 18 to have sex, easy.”
Because to me, it was easy. I was fully aware of the importance of sex to my peers, even at our teenage age, but not once did I ever consider getting involved with it. So waiting was no issue. Why rush into something I didn’t care for?
The same held true even for relationships. Surrounded by
friends who were enamoured with the idea of romance to the point of being hurt when not having a relationship. I felt for them, truly, even if I didn’t understand why this was so important. Romantic relationships and friendships were not in competition in my mind. I am complete whether I have them or not.
When I acquired my first boyfriend, we broke up in the span of two weeks. We never talked, never spent time with each other and most importantly, we were eleven years old. Really, the only reason I agreed to the relationship was because I had never been asked before. As much as I didn’t find romantic relationships to be the central goal of my life, it didn’t mean I didn’t have hidden jealousy in the back of my mind from all my friends who had received similar attention. Not from any true desire for it, but because they were closer to being socially normal than I was. So, I agreed. I tried to remain friends with him after the breakup – as I still often try to do – but not
all people were as fond of the idea as I thought they’d be.
But even before being involved in relationships, discussions of romance were still inescapable. Friends with celebrity and fictional crushes that I could not understand. I would write my own characters to be in romantic relationships with the fictional characters I enjoyed. All I wanted was to observe, not to participate. This goes back to an even younger age, when I would forcefully pick out who my crush would be so I could participate in conversations, even if I’d rather talk about something else. All in an attempt to be normal.
And really, that’s what hindered me. Fruitless attempts at trying to appear as someone I’m not. It is the thread that connects every instance. Now, in giving a name to it, I have found comfort. I have something to point to that explains why I am the way I am.
I am asexual and aromantic, and yes, I can still feel love.
Multiple interviewees, distinct journeys, and very different outlooks on life – ZIGZAG stories which led these people into various paths, guided by their experiences and knowledge.
And in true ZIGZAG fashion, we asked our interviewees to recommend a book, film or podcast they feel guided them in some way or another throughout their journey in life, ones which could potentially enlighten someone else along the way.
We present ZIGZAG RECOMMENDS.
“There are many, but I think that from a mindset perspective, David Goggins’ Can’t Hurt Me is a super book,” he stated.
“Think you also have people like Alex Hormozi, $100M Leads, who are great if you want someone to refer to for business and sales,” Scott added.
Can’t Hurt Me – David Goggins
$100M Leads – Alex Hormozi
“One of the best books that anyone can read for practical reasons is The Art of Learning by Josh Waitzkin – phenomenal,” said Jon.
“Movie – keep telling people about this movie, no one goes to watch it – Glengarry Glen Ross.”
“Podcast – anything about Winston Churchill”.
Glengarry Glen Ross
“Anything about Winston Churchill”
“Book – The first thing that comes to my mind is a book I read when I was 14, by Paulo Coehlo called Warrior of Light. It offers quite a mind-opening point of view,” said Simone.
Naarly Nick D on Youtube
Dubalejo “On Purpose” by Jay Shetty “Universe Clash Course” podcast
“These are two YouTubers I absolutely love, we have Brittany Broski and Quenlin Blackwell. They are big inspirations to me purely because they’ve made it in life [...] but they don’t hide who they are.”
Brittany Broski
Quenlin Blackwell
“Krik? Krak! By Edwidge Danticat - I read this book before I went to Haiti. Reading it as a 14 year old changed my perspective. It opened my eyes to the fact that people are genuinely living in terror”
Krik? Krak! - Edwidge Danticat
“One movie that inspired me was Robin Williams, What Dreams May Come”
“A book that sort of inspired me was Bill Bryson, [A Short History of Nearly Everything].”
What Dreams May Come – Vincent Ward A Short History of Nearly Everything – Bill Bryson
Our ZIGZAG Stories wouldn’t be complete without our interviewees’ final thoughts.
And in a society where careers, norms and the definition of the ‘right path’ is ever changing, we were curious as to what the concepts of ‘success’ and ‘failure’ mean tonour interviewees, and how they go about them in their daily lives.
‘success’ to them?
What
Scott Schembri:
“I think success is personal to anyone – whatever you guarantee as ‘success’ – I think being happy and healthy are the two most important things, I think the third is being financially free. Then there’s purpose, that’s the fourth pillar for me. If there’s no purpose in what I’m doing, then there’s no drive to wake up every single day, there’s no story, and I won’t be attached to it. I think if you’re happy, healthy, financially free, and live life with purpose - you’ve achieved success.”
Karl Vince Mifsud:
“To me success is, how content are you in your life? How much of your life do you live for yourself? Over how much of your life do you live for others and society as a whole.”
Jon Mallia:
“It’s very easy for me. I’ve got thousands of people who follow my work on my page, and I’m really grateful for that, and I’m in a place which is unique, truly. But there’s really the applause of maybe four, five, six people that I can’t live without their applause, their admiration. My children - I want them to want to be around me, to be someone they can come and ask for advice, to interface with the world in similar ways that I do, my wife, my mother – love making my mother proud.”
Bryan Corlett:
“Happiness. If you feel happy about yourself, the environment you’re in, what’s in your soul. I don’t think you need to chase money all the time. Chase a new car, new phone, all that stuff. You think you’re gonna find happiness when you’ve got it but then you find what’s the next thing to chase to get the happiness back. I think it’s just trying to find happiness in your soul. Being comfortable in your own
Ashlie Davis:
“Success can be many things. I am no longer struggling like I was in America. Even though I was making good money, I lived paycheck to paycheck. Now that I’m not in financial worry, I feel like I am a success.“
Nontypical:
Naarly: “Having a purpose, and feeling good about what you’re doing to fulfill that purpose.”
Makenda: “Feeling fulfilled from doing something meaningful to help others, and fulfilling personal goals.”
Dubalejo: “I see those who inspire me are successful, so to me being successful means having the ability to inspire others.”
Simone Bottai:
“I think success for me is managing to do what you’re meant to do. As in without stigma, dogma or imposition.”
Chris Cassar:
“I don’t consider success money. Success is the happiness you get out of what you’re doing. Success is feeling comfortable, feeling happy, doing what you like doing, and seeing what you do be appreciated.”
And on the other hand, what does ‘failure’ mean to them?
Scott Schembri:
“Failure is not achieving what you want to achieve. For me, there’s no plan B, I’m going to do it, I will succeed in whatever I want to succeed in.
‘Failure’ is a strong word, but you need pressure, that’s the story, that’s what’s worth fighting for. Otherwise, if there’sno failure and no success, life becomes boring.”
Jon Mallia:
“Failure is giving up...failure is getting knocked on your ass and just staying there.”
Karl Vince Mifsud:
“I see failure as a necessary thing we need in life. [...] Sometimes we can lose the sense that not everything will go our way, that not everything will be perfect [...] and you shouldn’t be anxious about that. I can’t wait for my next hurdle. I want to test myself and see where I go next. It’s less stressful when you see it like that. It’s just the next challenge.”
Bryan Corlett:
“I think you learn from your failures. We’ve all made mistakes and I think there’s always something to learn. I think failure, you tend to make when your emotions aren’t right, when you’re angry or maybe even too happy. You do something wrong in that moment.”
Ashlie Davis:
“Failure to me is living life for others instead of myself. Trying to make other people happy at the expense of my own happiness.”
Nontypical:
Naarly: “Failure is quitting something that shouldn’t be quit, but failure is also not quitting something that should be quit.”
Makenda: “Every attempt is a success, but if I do not attempt something and let my overthinking stop me from trying something new, I see it as a failure.”
Dubalejo: “Failing is learning. If you make a mistake you are failing. These mistakes have made me more inspired so I welcome the experience of failing and learning.
Simone Bottai:
“It doesn’t exist. Failure is necessary for success. A friend told me once that it doesn’t matter if you make mistakes, what matters is what you do after.”
Chris Cassar:
“Feeling fed up and annoyed, and not being satisfied with what you’re doing. You go through a lot in life – a lot of ups and downs. But I don’t consider the downs as failures. The downs are things that you learn from.”
Models:
Chrissy Despott
Isaiah Riolo
Manon Carl
Omar El Geyouzi
Jojo EL-Sharkawy
Deborah Akinsanya
Aoibhinn O’Dowd
Serena Kluijfhout
Beni Feigl
Michele Ghibaudo
Nicol Baudino
Marta Cavallo
Anastasie Nion
University of Malta:
Prof. Noellie Brockdorff
Prof. Ġorġ Mallia
MAKS Faculty Office
Philip Agius
Collabs:
The Jon Mallia team:
Robert Gruppetta & Julian Vella
Vibe FM
Freehour
Foodblog.mt
Richmond Foundation
Żibel
Sponsors, Giveaways & Locations
Beer Garden (Donald Bonnici)
Rec Media Studio for the recording of ZIGZAG Pod (Mark Cassar)
Thrift in the City
Fort Fitness
Coffee Circus
Big Ron’s
GamesPlus
All photographs in this publication were captured by the Design Team, Tasha Schembri and Jade Grech
ZIGZAG is a publication entirely produced by Bachelor of Communications (Honours) students enrolled in the Magazine and Digital Publishing unit, under the guidance of Malcolm Bonello.
