• An adequate mother,  I'm not 'special',  Lady stuff,  parenting

    The Truth Behind This Photo.

                    (totes click-baited you)   It’s still an odd feeling, getting out of bed, getting everyone out of the house and then sitting down to write…for money. Odd because even though I’ve written nearly every day since I was 18 and even though I’ve been paid for my work and often, it has taken until I turned 37 to actually acknowledge that this is what I do, it’s how I pay my bills, shit it’s what I write on my immigration card when traveling. I was lucky enough to have a bit of success early on in my career, at 18, but it…

  • An adequate mother,  I'm not 'special',  Lady stuff,  parenting

    With All Seriousness

    ‘You’re a mum now Lou’ my friend informed me as I sat before her, tea in hand, despair draping my face. ‘You’re going to have to learn to deal with it.’ I silently opened a packet of Teddy Bear biscuits as she continued. ‘You’re just won’t be able to be funny anymore. Happens to the best of us. I use to be fucking Conan O’Brien till I had kids. Now everything I say comes across as if I’m giving a speech at the Hague.’ And just like that, she had confirmed my deepest fears – that now I’m a mum, everything I say and do will forever be read and…

  • I'm not 'special',  To whom it concerns...

    What Would Miranda Kerr do?

    I’ve started keeping a gratitude journal. I’ve been told it’s something Miranda Kerr does. The idea is that you find at least 5 things to be grateful for each and everyday and by keeping a list of them you can reflect back on the good things in your life, making the bad things, well trivial and in making them trivial give them less power in your life.  It sounded right up my alley so I was eager to get the gratitude ball rolling. Before I started though I had to give myself some rules so that my daily entries didn’t read like an ode to just ‘making it through the…

  • An indulgence of sorts...,  I'd read this if I was you,  I'm not 'special',  People I don't want to know

    Australia, the land where wog brown isn’t real brown.

      I read an article in The Age recently, because yes, the newsagency had sold out of Grazia – BAM! No, I was really reading The Age and no it wasn’t something I’d already read a week earlier on the Guardian Newspaper website and then was re-reading syndicated as ‘our’ news in ‘our’ newspaper, no this was proper Australian news, an entire article devoted to the ‘perish the thought’ idea that Australian women are more likely to list their ‘absolutely cannot live without beauty treatment’ as spray tanning over leg waxing, like I said my brain is actually perishing at the thought. I mean imagine the site of it, furry…

  • I'm not 'special'

    The somewhat mediocre life of a Southpaw…

    Last week I was off finishing up a contract when I noticed one of the girls in the office staring at me, the type of stare normally reserved for the blacks drinking from whites only water fountains in Mississippi during the 1960’s, gays attending an evangelical church conference, or a severe burns victim. ‘Is everything ok?’ I asked, putting my pen down. ‘You’re left handed’ she pointed out, almost accusingly. Obviously she’d never seen a ‘Southpaw’ up close before, perhaps her only exposure being a leftie idiot savant who ‘liked sling blades’ but accidentally beat children to death with rocks. I could see it in her eyes, the sort of…