How am I not myself?

(Originally posted on 4th November. I am feeling much more like myself more often these days) Content warning: brief description of things I did while I was psychotic. Back in July of this year, I had what could be described as a psychotic episode. I wasn’t myself. It was night-time. Finley was asleep in bed…

Some books I re-read in 2020

Re-reading is a funny old thing. Mostly I like to read books I haven’t read before. There are so many books in the world, it almost seems like a waste of reading time to read something I’ve already read. But I do, for various reasons. Below and to be continued is an exploration of my…

Meaning of marriage (part 2 of 3)

This is the second part in a series answering the question: “How do you reconcile getting married with being a feminist?” which was put to me in 2015 when I, a feminist, was engaged to be married. In 2016 I published part one of my answer, which was about what marriage is not. Here, in part two,…

The Path (notebook archives #1)

(Originally written 16th June 2011) Walking through the paths of my mind I see a track leading off the main path Well-trod But a fence blocks the entranceNewly hewn: fresh pine and shiny steel. I glance down the trackIdly. I’ve seen it before;I used walk down there all the time Before the fence was put…

Dismantling Cancel Culture

In 2011, I lived in Hawthorn, an upmarket inner-eastern suburb of Melbourne. There were three cafes within a 5-7 minute walk of my home. Going out for coffee was a special treat then, as it is now. Back then, I only had a coffee budget of about $10 a week, which could buy me three…

Everyday Magic

We carry our magicin the cupped palms of our hands. The stream flows regardless. We carry our magicin our breathgently blowing awaycarelessly dropped comments. Barbs to wound arepicked out immaculatelyand promptly burned. We carry our magicin a kiss resting at thecorner of a mouthReady to heal what ails. We carry our magic.It is “always as…

Anticipation

In the springtime The avenue will bloom We shed our woollen dresses For still- cozy blue jackets That flap in the breeze As we ride along the bike path  Shortcut to the shops Pure happiness

The Pixie (Part Two)

She sat in the corner of the couch with her lips pursed and her slender arms crossed. Her wings were squashed against the cushions of the couch but she didn’t seem bothered, which was uncharacteristic of her because she is normally obsessively vain (even though she affects nonchalance). Now, though, she was trying to be…

The grief of TTC

Trying to conceive is a form of grief. In grief, there are no rules. Grief doesn’t care if you have been trying for one month or for ten years. She doesn’t care if you have four angel babies, or none. She doesn’t care if you already have a delightful human baby running around in the…