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Easter for Sadists
Easter is here, and that means it’s time for my two favourite things—excessive chocolate consumption and crushing my loved ones under the sheer weight of my competitive pettiness. I probably need to explain that last one…
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Forward
Wow 2020 sucks hey. Generally for everyone in the entire world, it seems. My personal suckitude began in November 2019 when I had my fourth consecutive miscarriage, and then continued as I evacuated from bushfires threatening my home, watched the rest of my country burn on the news, visited the ED for a sudden and scary bleed, had an array of blood tests and scans and finally a (very minor) surgery, and has now peaked (fingers crossed this will be the peak, anyway) in a fucking pandemic. I’m not someone who’s ever been into inspiration as a thing…
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The Feline Water Cycle
I don’t think of my cat as my baby. That’s not to say I don’t love the floof-demon a stupid amount or take my responsibility of his wellbeing seriously, I just don’t think of our relationship as parent-child. I don’t mind if other people think of their pets as their children or fur-babies or whathaveyou, but as he’s an adult cat and I’m not trying to raise him to be a functional member of society with an independent existence, for me, it just feels jarring. I tend to say he’s my eccentric housemate, but even that’s not quite right. I think pet relationships are different…
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Am I An Adult?
One year when I was still in highschool I asked for a green ipod for my birthday. The green was important. It was an unwell pistachio colour, sort of warm and cool at the same time. But teenagers aren’t renowned for their emotional restraint and despite the vomit-untertone I couldn’t have fallen more head-over-heads in love with this colour if it fronted a boyband. I stared at it in advertisements and in shop windows. I dreamed of it. I repeatedly prompted my mum to make sure she absolutely knew the green one was mine, the one I was meant to have. On my birthday, there was a heart-flutteringly ipod-shaped present for me…
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The Apocryphal Tale of the Octopus Liver
Before we begin, let me quickly introduce my dad. My dad wore a Greek fisherman’s hat everywhere. My dad cooked squid spinach. My dad was notorious for eating unusual things, particularly seafood. He told us which flowers in our garden were technically edible and snacked on them. He fossicked in rock pools and consumed their contents. We thought it was excellent. As kids, we showed our appreciation through gleeful declarations of how grossed out we were accompanied by general screaming. He retired the fisherman’s hat sometime during my teenaged years, but otherwise remains as is. This is the tale of the octopus liver…
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A Case of Shit Bees (Impostor Syndrome)
Do you ever peek at the last page in a book? Sometimes I do. This story ends with me winning first place in a youth art competition. I was eleven, quite young compared to some of the other people who had entered. The person who came second was older than me. I saw her face when our names were called, and I think she was disappointed. At least, that’s how I remember it…
Silence Killed The Dinosaurs 