tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60835574425873620712012-01-27T15:34:27.268+10:00Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.comBlogger2781100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-10994743922888702502012-01-27T15:27:00.004+10:002012-01-27T15:34:27.448+10:00

The movement stopsAnd for a moment, her body dropsBreaking and entering without the soundShe unravels, she wakes, she becomes unboundOut she wandersAnd in she floundersUntil she findsThat she is no mindWhere she goes, she does not knowFor it is a place she has never been beforeBut it is rememberedLike the warmth of the sunshine in cold DecemberIt is a world without limitsWithout voice, without

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-37255896762407363642012-01-23T22:33:00.004+10:002012-01-24T08:41:34.787+10:00

I have always called Calabasas “the town where I grew up”, but apparently it’s a little more serious than that. Wikipedia calls it an “affluent city in Los Angeles County”, and it can even lay claim to notable residents such as the Karadashians, Cameron Diaz and Britney Spears, too.Calabasas is also home to Australian satirist Chris Lilley’s only American character in his television series Angry

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-91877419224460457132012-01-12T13:42:00.007+10:002012-01-13T21:15:01.274+10:00

The impact is instant.The sounds penetrate through my skin and into the melody that exists somewhere between my heart and my soul, a place without a valid address and one that I certainly cannot reach on my own. If it remains untouched for long enough, it can sometimes feel as though it has vanished forever.But it's always here. Waiting for me, wondering where I've been, missing me.It watches me

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-47924425517560873512012-01-03T18:12:00.005+10:002012-01-03T18:23:50.411+10:00

There are few things I like better than days off, except for when the days off coincide with something called “Christmas holidays”. It’s like a really good thing went ahead and mixed with a “Let’s make a lot of people feel bad” thing and you get all lonely and depressed and you can’t even blame the way you feel on your boss.Which is why I am so extremely grateful than the “holidays” are over I

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-45214645645003800642011-12-29T20:17:00.002+10:002011-12-29T20:25:22.503+10:00

So it’s the end of another year. Eventually we’re all going to stop saying that you know.Now that I have accomplished my duty of reminding us about our mortality, I can begin to reflect on 2011. By many accounts, this has been a year of serious change, and if I look back on where I was at this time last year, um, SOMEBODY GET THAT GIRL A DRINK, WOULD YOU. There is no way I could have predicted I’

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-35259136218866659972011-12-20T20:26:00.008+10:002011-12-20T21:59:02.553+10:00

As I’ve been working on my big beautiful new project, This Place, the importance of “talking it out” has been striking me with all sorts of ambiguity. Why is it so important, really? And while we’re sitting in this landfill of open-ended questions that nobody really wants to answer, what even is “sanity”? God knows I’ve never felt it, and neither have any of my other personalities (Roger claims

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-32374978952349264192011-12-12T22:34:00.005+10:002011-12-13T07:58:13.544+10:00

1. I’m TRYING to be all positive and Mary Poppins-like, even going so far as to SAY NICE THINGS TO MYSELF WHEN I WAKE UP IN THE MORNING, even going so far as to appreciate shitty weather for a few days, even going so far as to floss. But do you know what happens when the rain never, ever stops, not for weeks, not for months, not for years? It turns me into an Ebenezer Scrooge who would much

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-31188094088341132812011-12-07T20:52:00.003+10:002011-12-07T22:01:50.532+10:00

NB: I am currently doing The Artist’s Way, which I highly recommend to everyone in the whole wide world. The thing is, the last few weeks have been so frantic and exhausting that both “The Artist’s Way” and “blog” have been on my poorly neglected to-do list. I hate neglected to-do lists. And so in an effort to kindly rescue two adorable baby birds with one soft and loving arm, I present to you

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-37046042011061545602011-12-04T22:56:00.003+10:002011-12-04T23:03:53.518+10:00

I am high, I am lowI have nowhere to goThis is life, cut a knifeAnd slice it through the floorBreak it open, so sublimeIt can operate in rhymeBreak awaySteal this dayNight is on its wayForget tomorrowIt ends in sorrowBliss is here to stayIt’s a song of epiphaniesAnd elaborate symphoniesOf the yesterday that diedTomorrow is in tuneOut of focus, not immuneTo the cries of life and timeIt dives and

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-90635751351634343092011-11-24T20:55:00.003+10:002011-11-24T21:10:15.305+10:00

If I could have any super power, it would OBVIOUSLY be to create more of me. As terrifying as that may sound to you, I can’t think of anything that I’d want more, and one of those reasons may be to terrify you, but it’s not the main one. I’d get one Seema to do Final Episode, one to do This Place, one to write that book and freelance (can’t let this Seema have it too easy! She gets two tasks!),

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-74517183327777461752011-11-22T20:27:00.003+10:002011-11-22T20:33:19.658+10:00

Bellatrix Lestrange Seema: You really should write, Seema.Harry Potter Seema: But I’m tired.BLS: I bet you Obama doesn’t get tired.HPS: I am not the president of the United States.BLS: No. And you’ll never be with the way you’re going.HPS: I don’t want to be the president of the United States.BLS: Good thing, too. You’ll probably lose your writing skills and then die a very early death. America

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-44007780356954649002011-11-19T21:16:00.002+10:002011-11-19T21:25:36.537+10:00

I saw myself thereBeneath skinCompletely bareWe spoke of youHow you were oursHow we were twoNo thoughts came to mindIn which you livedOutside of timeBut in that momentTime diedAnd turned into mimeFortune reignedSo too did thanksAnd also flamesFor you I lovedAnd because of thisI know to aimI awoke from heavenBody swellingStruck from levinA mystery I metAnd in its eyesIt showed the rest

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-47040476092830465002011-11-17T00:00:00.000+10:002011-11-16T23:00:06.382+10:00

(NB: I wrote this like I was writing to someone who doesn't know me all that well, not you guys. I mean, you guys have seen me in my underwear! So please don't laugh at me getting all serious and formal and stuff.)A year and a half ago, I started to dream up This Place. It was set to be the bigger, global version of the writing project I had launched in 2009, Side Street, Sydney, and I was very

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-45040887175794470392011-11-16T15:42:00.003+10:002011-11-16T15:46:13.122+10:00

A series of thoughts from Under The Influence. I am so wise.I wonder if anyone knows what being a different person is likeI wonder if I’m actually floating, and this is actually space, and right now is actually a dreamI wonder if I’ll ever see the Colorado Mountains againI wonder if the brown I see is the same brown you seeI wonder if everything they say that’s bad for you isn’t actually all that

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-21138736259712080102011-11-14T18:00:00.003+10:002011-11-14T18:08:04.975+10:00

There comes a moment in every person’s life when they realise that they’re wrong.It’s different for everyone. Some people get this epiphany in jail. Some people get it after a long meditation. Others get it when they are sitting on the toilet and discover that they have no toilet paper left. Alas, they were wrong to not look at their grocery list, but they were also wrong about many, many other

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-45963594611574960722011-11-08T22:51:00.004+10:002011-11-09T07:52:01.244+10:00

Harry Potter Seema: It’s hard to pinpoint what exactly it is that makes people cynical.Bellatrix Lestrange Seema: No it’s not. It’s SHITTY PEOPLE.HPS: Not everyone is shitty you know.BLS: Sure not everyone is. Just most people.HPS: Oh come on.BLS: That’s a great comeback. Loser.HPS: -silence-BLS: Remember all the times you were called a loser growing up? Or how about the time when you topped

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-25748741975200529962011-11-07T10:25:00.004+10:002011-11-07T10:36:04.744+10:00

The other day, I found myself grumbling. This is not entirely significant, seeing as I grumble often and seem to have grumbling down to an art form, as I know exactly where to place my mumbles and my grunts accordingly. You see, it wasn’t the grumbling that was entirely significant, but rather the way I talked myself out of the grumbling that was.I had no reason to grumble.That was it. All of a

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-19020279763763175412011-11-02T10:17:00.004+10:002011-11-02T10:28:54.625+10:00

When Puppy Dog was a wee baby, it was pretty easy to step on him. I mean, his size was akin to a large yet loveable rodent’s. Each time I ever so accidentally got my shoe caught on his tail, he would let out the most heartbreaking and yet simultaneously adorable whimper, after which I would pick him up and give him anything he wanted. You want to eat my sock? Take it! It’s not worth as much as

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-28862432009296873482011-10-31T11:03:00.003+10:002011-10-31T11:15:52.336+10:00

When someone calls herself a perfectionist, I tend to smirk and then go silent. I’m FAR better a perfectionist than her!It’s become a problem.Like virtually every psychological fuckup, this started in my childhood. Anything less than an A was simply unacceptable, and if I was to ever misbehave – which I did, and often – the world as we knew it was over. Screams would fly, tears would spring, and

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-17279208574999440572011-10-30T11:39:00.004+10:002011-10-30T11:48:57.608+10:00

So, what do you know, I’ve been a little bit insane the past few weeks. I’m so surprising.Apparently moving is the second most stressful thing you can do in life (divorce comes first), and when you’re not entirely mentally stable, moving = mini mental breakdown. This is a fact and I am more than qualified to present my findings in a scientific study. All I would have to do is show a video of

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-4978644768141600262011-10-28T16:54:00.000+10:002011-10-28T16:55:11.666+10:00

Crazy and passionate RB seeks practical and passionate LB for LNOTJ (long nights on the job). Must love business! with an exclamation mark, must enjoy selling even though selling is awful, must like marketing and advertising and operations and development and (insert boring word here), and must have the desire to develop a creative vision and be the business brain behind a pretty f’ing amazing

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-39968771810772851012011-10-20T09:37:00.001+10:002011-10-20T09:37:57.531+10:00

All that you buryWill never set you free You can run and hideBut it doesn't ever leave Grab a bone and bite Cos that's the only way to eatSimple, truth, reality Are words you'll never see The surface sometimes shinesBut it's polish, you will find Lose the bottle, lose your way Then one day, the surface breaksYou'll fall through hell Before Satan greets Says welcome, I'm alive I've always lived

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-64549571243455329982011-10-18T22:05:00.005+10:002011-10-19T07:25:41.246+10:00

Apparently there are a few stages of grief, and you have to go through all the joys of shock, pain, loneliness and anger before you reach the point of acceptance. Right now, I’m ANGRY! *lies on stomach and pounds fists on floor*So about 6 months ago, I broke up with a best friend. I wrote about the reasons here, but to save you a WHOLE OTHER PAGE, she didn’t want anything to do with me when I

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-21931403535163385952011-10-17T15:20:00.003+10:002011-10-17T15:25:06.805+10:00

1. Although the past 2 weeks have consisted of WRETCHED, WRETCHED moving and I am indeed grouchy (GRRRR!), I don’t feel like I’m on the verge of homicide. WIN!Plus my new home is really pretty and big and the best part? I can actually BREATHE in it! When I tried to breathe in Sydney the air molecules usually ran into each other and then came right back into me. Gross.2. I have approximately 5

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-36249353685013127962011-10-16T18:21:00.005+10:002011-10-16T19:34:56.977+10:00

So I haven't had time to blog in the last 2 weeks, but I don't need to tell you that. Or just how very much the past couple weeks of my life have resembled a place that looks not a whole lot unlike hell. Or how moving could be used as an act of torture. No, no, I am trying my -hardest- not to complain these days, so I've decided to just shut up and stay far, far away from the computer until this

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-89268823513792547662011-10-02T13:29:00.006+10:002011-10-02T13:46:14.460+10:00

Well, friends, it’s been a long time between my not-actually-weekly Weekly Work of Arts, and this is largely because I am deeply, deeply sick of myself. One thing I have learned about blogging is that sometimes you need it, and sometimes you don’t, and you usually don’t when you get sick of hearing the sound of your own voice, kind of like how you got sick of hearing the sound of your teacher’s

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-10651432134899323252011-09-25T20:22:00.006+10:002011-09-26T08:01:03.412+10:00

There’s something about Brooklyn that can make you feel as though you’ve time-travelled into the movie set of Someone Else’s Life – and then when you head just one block east, it’s another script entirely. When you get back into your own reality, you can’t help but realise that honey, you ain’t seen nothing yet.On my most recent trip to America, I decided to stay in Brooklyn, because I felt as

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-80616587948057024922011-09-21T23:21:00.006+10:002011-09-22T09:21:57.302+10:00

16 reasons I know I have transitioned from Burnt Out to Officially Fried.1) Squishhhhh. Squishhhh.These are the sounds my body makes when it moves around because I haven’t had the time to eat healthy or exercise and I have become deeply addicted to cheese.It’s a calmative.2) I try to blog and I cannot come up with a word, so I stare at the computer screen for 2 minutes before remembering that I’m

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-78269724483807609142011-09-18T22:46:00.005+10:002011-09-18T23:08:47.258+10:00

I have it written in my organiser pretty much every week as a static reminder that if I ever find myself sitting and doing nothing, I should slap myself: blog. This is because a) I like writing! Didn’t you know! and b) the more you write, the better writer you are. But there are a couple things I don’t like about blogging. Aside from the whole a) YOU WILL NEVER LET YOURSELF JUST RELAX, there’ s b

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-79589718354580090812011-09-15T00:13:00.011+10:002011-09-15T09:30:47.993+10:00

I’m pretty sure I was 10 years old when I first seriously considered killing myself.Of course, the exact date is now vague, but the feeling isn’t. The feeling is something I have experienced countless times from then until now.In 1994, my friends stopped being my friends because my brother lied to one of their brothers about his availability to attend a Bat Mitzvah, and I defended him. It was a

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-18728443594767077842011-09-13T22:04:00.003+10:002011-09-13T22:23:21.994+10:00

The other day, I was wandering around the World Wide Web, minding my own business, when BAM! One of the more obnoxious people I have ever had the displeasure of knowing had her name in lights over one of the hipster generation’s most popular websites. AND I HADN’T EVEN DONE ANYTHING TO DESERVE IT.But the thing is, neither did she. Or did she? I used to like her writing, right up until the point

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-30904965980778601272011-09-11T23:38:00.003+10:002011-09-13T00:50:10.796+10:00

Today marks 10 years from the day that changed the place where I am from – and the world – forever. And it is a day where I can’t help but think about something other than my record-book of disillusionment with America and all its problems, and pull out my other book instead – the one that’s titled The Place That I Am From, and contains everything I have always loved about it inside.In the place

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-77497198560285869522011-09-07T23:14:00.007+10:002011-09-08T09:53:55.843+10:00

This was the first winter where I can honestly say I didn’t complain about the weather.In fact, I embraced it. Colder weather almost MATHEMATICALLY equates to cuter outfits, and the brisk evenings are seemingly made for wine, takeout and sneaky backyard fires, with the seeped smell of burned wood serving as a faint reminder of last night’s memories the morning after. Then of course there are the

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-40911224020365950712011-09-06T23:14:00.006+10:002011-09-06T23:29:28.901+10:00

Tonight, I had grand plans: work on a little from pile A, a little from pile B, but best of all, WRITE!THE WORLD HAD MUCH MORE MENACING PLANS IN STORE FOR ME.Instead of the above, I had to finish my tax in preparation for my appointment with my accountant tomorrow, which took me approximately 4 hours and one lifetime of pain, horrible pain, to complete. It is yet another thing that has made me

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-29518636548381475552011-08-29T22:57:00.004+10:002011-08-29T23:19:21.477+10:00

My mother had a motto when I was growing up: Life is a four letter word: W-O-R-KLike most things parents say, I laughed at it, scorned it, and then PROCEEDED TO BECOME IT. Hey, you'd be fucked up too, given the circumstances. But whether it's a good thing or bad thing is yet to be determined, and it is something that will be judged explicitly on just how many nervous breakdowns I have in my

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-51044210807957141482011-08-27T23:49:00.004+10:002011-08-29T15:55:26.996+10:00

It’s really just jazz When order gives way Crumbling, dissipating Retreating all the way back To the very first place. The sense can’t be missed Every single time it breaks You’ll hold it in your hands And watch it lose its shape. Names tend to lie Or at the very least, drop time Their rendition’s not immune To the laws of humankind. It’s best to not lose sleep Or trip and slide

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-38339065291876839902011-08-24T22:56:00.005+10:002011-08-24T23:17:45.115+10:00

Okay, so I don’t ONLY think about how much I hate people. Fluffy animals pop up from time to time, too. And if I’m being honest, occasionally, I am quite fond of them. Take today, for example, when I witnessed some of the very best of human qualities: kindness, generosity, support, encouragement, selflessness. In fact, if I hadn’t pinched myself, I’d be pretty pissed that I had died and gone to

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-74331373816712106982011-08-23T23:45:00.004+10:002011-08-24T17:31:19.215+10:00

Tonight, I have come to a conclusion: overall, I do not like people. I know that may sound a bit negative nancy to some, but I am not sure if I care, because as I eluded to above, I am a heartless bitch. But even heartless bitches can Individually love CERTAIN people. Very much, in fact. But overall? Overall, it is quite obvious that they suck. I feel like I just stepped into taboo territory.

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-78292187378397567132011-08-18T23:09:00.002+10:002011-08-18T23:12:23.461+10:00

"The edge… there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over." — Hunter S. Thompson The darkness ebbs and flows Sometimes it’s punctured Sometimes it shows Always it lurks But it has to be known That it is not just the black: The great big foe It is also the white And sometimes the night Colours, blue and green Shades that

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-35060613911175621962011-08-16T22:17:00.005+10:002011-08-16T22:22:26.093+10:00

If all the worries in the world couldn’t stop you Think how far you’d run No block No riot Only the glory of the sun Tame and steady Without tumult; An even voyage Take off Take off And when you reach ahead of you You’ll meet only a beginning

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-90728178522059222232011-08-15T22:24:00.005+10:002011-08-16T09:33:16.190+10:00

I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships lately. These thoughts usually occur right before “How to conquer the world.” and right after “I wonder how many things squirrels and possums share in common.” Clearly, my mind doesn’t seem to operate on the same clock as HUMAN time. Sometimes I just want to take out the batteries and leave it on the counter, but that would simply require far more

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-9240890028728499862011-08-12T23:04:00.002+10:002011-08-15T22:27:46.828+10:00

I think the fact that the thought of my therapist appointment tomorrow fills me with utter glee – kind of like the anticipation that Puppy Dog feels right before he smells another dog’s butt – might say something about me. Oh, wait. Of COURSE it says something about me. IT SAYS I AM FUCKING INSANE. Well, that was an easy epiphany. Sometimes my nuttiness is just so, ha-ha, you little goose, that

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-88324186835979743262011-08-02T00:02:00.000+10:002011-08-02T00:07:49.777+10:00

Dear Mataji,I am not sure if you can hear my thoughts as I write, but somewhere out there, I hope you can. I lost you a year ago probably this very moment, and although I had always known that it was coming – that it will come, for everyone – I suppose a large part of me wished it never would with you. I kind of pushed the mere thought of it away, in the hopes that such an act alone would defeat

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-65698930876298956322011-07-29T22:33:00.005+10:002011-07-30T08:57:26.841+10:00

Death.It’s such a final word. Not at all like, say, octopus.People die every day; I know this because Puppy Dog howls to the ambulance sirens of every single one of them. But every so often a death comes along that actually jolts us from its antonym and makes us think about it in a way that transcends the surface.This week, I’ve been thinking about the death of Amy Winehouse, or rather I was

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-49168116499928304572011-07-26T22:11:00.004+10:002011-07-26T23:40:43.019+10:00

Once again, I have left a book halfway through. I'm like the literary equivalent of the worst dinner date EVER. This time, the victim is American Pyscho.The thing is, for 130 odd pages, I actually loved it. It's incredibly written, it's satirical, and the story is pretty funny; even, you know, the casual murders from time to time. It's about a 26-year-old (ahem. MY AGE.) investment banker in New

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-91685182785407959072011-07-22T17:05:00.003+10:002011-07-22T17:22:31.800+10:00

Well, what do you know: I've decided to start another website. THIS IS JUST WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I'M LEFT TO MY OWN DEVICES FOR TOO LONG.Okay, so I have a sneaky little confession to make: sometimes, I don't feel like writing. And other times, I have nothing to say. It's so embarrassing.Nonetheless, just because my words occasionally retreat back into the 90% of my brain that is not in use at any

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-18028274293181048752011-07-20T22:39:00.003+10:002011-07-20T22:45:21.506+10:00

So right about now I have a million and one things I could be writing, and a million and one things I could be doing, but instead, I am trying to earn a million and one dollars. No, no. Make that DOLLAZ.For the past four weeks, I have been resisting my situation immensely, going all, WHAT? I NEED TO GO TO A 9 TO 5? LIFE IS SO UNFAIRRR. And you know what? It is unfair. It is unfair that there is a

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-11194258829451992932011-07-18T22:25:00.004+10:002011-07-22T00:40:29.335+10:00

Oh, Rupert.*shakes head*It’s been kind of a shit year for you, but surely you would have seen this coming? I certainly did. And I think that anyone who wasn’t so busy taking over the world would have.You see, Rupert, you waved your influence like a can of yellow spray paint across all your papers, and what could have been decent, quality reporting became covered in gunk. Instead of allowing your

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-60089263763653667212011-07-11T11:03:00.000+10:002011-07-10T23:49:18.389+10:00

I have been on a quest lately to watch every great movie EVER MADE, and tonight, I watched Gandhi. It made me learn even more about the great man that once lived and led my motherland, and gave my disillusionment with everything that exists a bit to reflect on. It’s so easy to think of the road ahead as too difficult, too steep, and too lonely to climb, particularly when you are doing anything

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-91624427641167543962011-07-10T18:12:00.002+10:002011-07-10T18:14:55.100+10:00

Oh look, you’re backBut right now it feels as though you never leftYou like to play hide and seekBut really you’re just chasing meIt’s a constant game:A merry-go-roundOf now you see me, now you don’tSometimes I think, you must be the winnerBut then I runAnd then I find coverAnd then you’re goneBut only for a short while…It always feels like an eternitySo your return finds me breathlessWithout a

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-41590960565076936082011-07-06T22:43:00.003+10:002011-07-06T22:50:30.170+10:00

I’m pretty sure I culled a few things I was doing for good reasons. My day job (they told me I could no longer work on my own stuff while at work. THE NERVE.). Side Street, Sydney (I had outgrown the editorial strategy, the fact that it DID NOT MAKE ME ANYTHING, and the limitations of the site). The Final Episode investor plan (I hate big business). And, er, that was all, wasn’t it? SO WHY THE EF

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-61424531873133804692011-07-04T15:50:00.002+10:002011-07-04T15:52:41.379+10:00

“Seema Duggal” and “playing it safe” are definitely not in the same page in the dictionary. In fact, THEY DON’T EVEN BELONG IN THE SAME LANGUAGE.I am somewhat of a “risk taker”, and by that I mean I do things that would terrify normal, rational people enough to the point where they would not do them. You know how fun it would be to enter a lion’s cage? These people would not do that. These people

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-63087606357962343312011-06-27T15:28:00.004+10:002011-06-27T15:33:12.639+10:00

When I was watching Go Back to Where You Came From* on SBS last week, I was just as appalled as anyone to hear the racist statements uttered by the ignorant halfwits that had offered to take part in that show, and I wanted to throw a rotten tomato at them with the hope that it would perhaps permanently change the colour of their skin to SOMETHING OTHER THAN WHITE. But I got over that quite

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-52079464454748551652011-06-26T18:54:00.004+10:002011-06-27T15:32:37.933+10:00

When I was a child, I used to beg god not to make me gay. Sure, I got what I asked for, but I should never have had to want it in the first place.Like many teenagers, I was DESPERATE to get laid, but had absolutely no way of actually accomplishing that. Save writing my carnal desires in the middle of my forehead and waiting for someone – ANYONE – to appease them (which I am sure would have been

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-21452580206825311582011-06-23T17:04:00.004+10:002011-06-24T17:21:08.949+10:00

I am not sure if I have spoken enough about how creativity is in fact TORTURE, so allow me to state that here:WRITING. IS. AGONY.(sometimes)It is something I have actually been discussing in my philosophy class quite a bit, and I have come to the rather dramatic conclusion that creativity is only really torturous when our ego is attached to it. Yes, the ego that feeds off other people's opinions

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-10393466697316201542011-06-22T19:00:00.006+10:002011-06-22T19:15:33.484+10:00

Working for Rupert Murdoch: My desire to do anything meaningful with my life ever again, my trust in the media, my desire to work in journalism, my fondness for idiots (they used to be quite funny.), my fondness for everyday people (most are idiots, not of the funny variety.), my understanding that it is not okay to waste time on Facebook while at work (generally, it was more objective.), my

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-67104139320357527902011-06-18T16:13:00.005+10:002011-06-18T16:37:13.065+10:00

One of the things that has seemed to come up a lot lately in my conversations with other people and with myself is the topic of happiness. Obviously, I am intrigued by its nemesis, depression, much in the same way that I am intrigued by Hitler. In addition to being evil, they both share ugly moustaches and, in spite of everything, love animals. So we know what depression is, but what is happiness

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-8004359132865095982011-06-15T15:37:00.003+10:002011-06-15T15:42:44.295+10:00

So this past weekend, we went down to our favourite place on earth, The FARM. It our favourite place on earth because we are actually a family of border collies who like to run around in free space and poop without anyone around to watch us.The town next door to the FARM is called Tilba, also known as The Land of Cheese. The latter is its most important name, but I told you the former as well so

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-62624048275479791992011-06-13T22:01:00.005+10:002011-06-14T16:12:58.755+10:00

Let me tell you a little story about Best Friend. This is so you can a) know more about the person named Best Friend, and b) acknowledge what good taste I have.I met her at the start of what was to become one of the worst years of my life. Never mind that I’ve had so many! That’s not the point, for once. It was one of our first days as extremely ridiculous 17-year-old freshmen at UCSD, and we

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-40318525754286611242011-06-10T11:18:00.005+10:002011-06-10T11:22:53.666+10:00

Today it is Future Husband (formerly known as Boyfriend)'s birthday, so we are heading down to our favourite place on earth - the FARM - to relish in the fact that it is the perfect place for loners who are terrified of crowds of people and people in general. We shall spend the weekend eating, playing with Puppy Dog, sleeping, doing other *fun* things and, of course, avoiding the Real World.

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-88411189730524079202011-06-07T15:56:00.004+10:002011-06-07T19:52:26.997+10:00

I just got back from a rather whirlwind 12 days in the States, where I saw the family, the BEST FRIEND GETTING MARRIED, and went to New York City with Mr Best Friend 2 days after he got married. Best Friend did not come.I know. It sounds really, really odd.But the best part is, it wasn’t! This is because Mr Best Friend and I are odd by nature, so nothing that we do is out of OUR norm, really.

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-12760137209742848622011-06-03T13:15:00.004+10:002011-06-03T13:23:17.583+10:00

I wrote this piece specifically for Mamamia. I'm nice, huh? Hey! You can keep that answer to yourself, thank you very much.I think it's pretty obvious from this blog that I had a stupid friend when I was going through my most recent shitty-shitty-shit-shit-shit, but I would also like to point out that I have many great ones - she was just the one I opened up to at the time, and anyone who has

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-41175117550826123582011-06-01T06:16:00.003+10:002011-06-01T06:31:46.319+10:00

So my best friend got married yesterday. Her real name is Best Friend. It is not so much my term for her as THE WORLD'S term for her, if they could be so lucky.I'll write a massive post about her and her beloved when I'm no longer hungover, which will likely be in approximately 5 days. However, I'm posting the poem I wrote for her below, which was part of my wedding cry speech. The other part

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-42799241643850924612011-05-27T17:11:00.006+10:002011-05-28T09:36:51.697+10:00

You left me aloneIn the darkness, Where I was born You may have met me in the light But that is only mine When I don’t have to fightAlthough every battle I have won before There were moments when I felt, That I could fight no more. The solitude made the victory mine But the abandon – It left lines You bolted in the middle of the night But my strength is now hereAnd it never needed sight

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-34863892697515262662011-05-26T12:20:00.002+10:002011-05-26T12:25:04.320+10:00

So my flight to Los Angeles got delayed by four hours, then it got cancelled, then I wound up on a plane to San Francisco, and as I write this, I’m not quite sure how I’m getting to Los Angeles. FINGERS CROSSED I DO.*As much as I have wanted to kick and scream and as much as I have, actually, kicked and screamed, the fact that I have been spent the time finishing an AMAZING book has refrained me

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-26209530787373716722011-05-25T01:05:00.007+10:002011-05-26T14:40:59.191+10:00

This week, I lost an idol.The details of just how disappointing the “person I so admire” ended up being are somewhat irrelevant, and entirely defamatory. I think I’ll step away from that, as if I wanted to be sued, I would have just stayed in America.But I’ve been thinking a lot about it, about our expectations of people, our hope for their character and our naïve belief in it, despite the fact

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-59211663426568301692011-05-19T22:08:00.005+10:002011-05-19T22:21:02.670+10:00

We discussed this poem tonight in philosophy class; it's by Mother Teresa and I want to get it framed and hang it on my wall so that I can remember these words when everyone pisses me off.It is accompanied by a random photo that I like. People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered; Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-88265185436494109122011-05-16T22:04:00.004+10:002011-05-18T11:29:31.140+10:00

In light of my recent post on ambition, the nervous breakdown I just had and the fact that I am not in fact five people, I have grudgingly accepted the fact that I have to focus on one thing at a time. Okay, two things, MAX. As much as I would love to be an entrepreneurial BILLIONAIRE slash academic slash award-winning author, it may be just a little bit impossible to do all these things

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-32299134906591916972011-05-12T17:21:00.001+10:002011-05-17T10:11:09.229+10:00

And when I say ambition is a dirty word, I really mean that. It has greasy hair and it smells funny. This is less because it is homeless and more because it doesn’t have any time to shower.When I was growing up, I didn’t think I would end up being so damn ambitious and getting so many premature wrinkles. Rather, I thought I would revel in mediocrity like the rest of the free world, if for no

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-54683774691807768912011-05-09T20:52:00.005+10:002011-05-09T21:05:59.315+10:00

Every so often, I’m reminded why I wanted to be a journalist. This is usually when I’m reading the New York Times, something incredible happens, and Rupert Murdoch is missing.Over the past week, you could say I’ve been a little obsessed with the whole Osama Bin Laden saga, and it’s had me clicking on one story after the other incessantly, to the point where I have become a qualified expert on the

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-66260812062720804142011-05-04T22:43:00.007+10:002011-05-04T23:43:20.022+10:00

So you’re not my Facebook friend anymore… so um, hi… how are you…-looks down and shuffles feet-The above exchange has the potential to happen to me ALL THE TIME. This is because I am a serial Facebook Friend Deleter.Every few months, I go through my friend list with one thing and one thing only on my mind: EXECUTION.It’s not my fault, really. Okay yes it is. I have an incredibly volatile

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-7142831576237196812011-05-02T15:10:00.004+10:002011-05-03T21:05:59.191+10:00

This was reposted on Mamamia on May 3, 2011. You can see it (and view all the lovely comments!) here.Today, I am proud to be an American.This is a sentiment that I have seldom felt in the past decade. The pride was overpowering on September 11, 2001, for a few months following that day, when my vote counted to elect Barack Obama as the leader of my country, and when he took the lead at the Oval

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-24850435677411679642011-04-30T17:40:00.000+10:002011-05-02T21:41:01.532+10:00

This week marks the last of Side Street, Sydney’s shenanigans.I’d like to take a moment of silence.…………..I always said that I would stop the site when it stopped being fun, and I knew that was the case when I wanted to throw a ball of cheese at the last publicist who had been hassling me. Look, she was just doing her job, and the cheese? The cheese should be eaten, not thrown. I think it’s safe

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-47284347838198196842011-04-26T22:25:00.004+10:002011-04-26T23:24:22.691+10:00

It’s funny when you look back on some of the things you have done and realise that you are in fact the same person as the person who did those things and then resist the urge to kick yourself in the face. Or is that just funny to me?The one thing all that therapy and obnoxious levels of self-reflection has taught me is that our view of the outer world is only a reflection of our view of our inner

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-43460565321575425292011-04-25T22:45:00.002+10:002011-04-25T22:54:46.575+10:00

For me, writing is kind of like this AMAZING sex that I get to have whenever I so choose, but sometimes I think, fuck it. I don’t FEEL like having amazing sex! I’d rather go to bed. But first, I think I’ll heat myself a glass of milk and clean out my dentures. So yes, new goal = write more. It’s funny, it’s as though writing… scares me, somehow. I don’t know why. It probably has something to do

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-13719887258700010862011-04-18T19:38:00.008+10:002011-04-18T20:54:14.192+10:00

So this whole past couple weeks I have been wanting to write about our little sojourn down south, but I have been far too busy self-reflecting and sleeping and doing nothing of any value. I see this period in my life as my “rehab off crazy”, and like any good patient should, I am refusing to do anything that tips my hours of sleep under the number nine. But it is Monday evening and I have a glass

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-66468213075846668962011-04-13T15:47:00.005+10:002011-04-13T18:20:42.375+10:00

Do you know what I love? Making a friendship over the Internet because you like each other's writing and find each other attractive. It's just so creepy and sweet.This is exactly what has happened with a certain girl named Rebecca Jade McGuire, who I have absolutely NO problem inviting over for dinner and a sleepover even though I technically haven't MET her yet. I mean, how safe are those things

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-88850655302770102762011-04-11T19:58:00.012+10:002011-04-13T16:02:21.032+10:00

About two years ago, I started to fall off the deep end.I was working in fashion PR and loathing my job, especially the fact that my boss was trying to hold my hand and hit on me and convince me that Future Husband (formerly known as Boyfriend) was evil. He was not attractive and was in fact very evil. The position was also destroying me, slowly, but I didn’t know then that it was because it was

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-70483897177121090682011-03-30T16:20:00.003+10:002011-03-30T16:29:22.068+10:00

So much has happened in the past couple weeks that I haven’t been able to bring you the Weekly Work of Art! RIGHT WHEN YOU NEEDED IT MOST, TOO. Never fear! I am pleased to bring you a double edition, which is exactly the same size as the normal edition but just covers a longer length of time. So it’s considerably less special, let’s just put it that way. But still SPECIAL! This is the Weekly Work

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-997760918079869622011-03-26T21:17:00.004+10:002011-03-27T21:42:38.049+10:00

Last night, as Pippy (who had been staying with us for the week), Boyfriend and I were sitting around eating, drinking and doing illegal substances playing scrabble, Boyfriend casually looked at me and said “it’s been six years today.” Confused, I thought, six years of what? Did somebody die six years ago today? Did you get out of jail six years ago today and NOT TELL ME? Should I remember this

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-6496090697171872912011-03-22T08:23:00.004+10:002011-03-22T08:39:06.730+10:00

“There is no salvation in time. You cannot be free in the future.Presence is the key to freedom, so you can only be free now.”-Eckhart Tolle

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-48999284172969993422011-03-20T15:12:00.004+10:002011-03-20T17:32:17.370+10:00

Dear Pippy Poppington,Last week, it was your birthday, and now that you are in Sydney and I can take you out on the town to celebrate, I thought I would write you a letter instead. Don’t you feel special knowing that you being in Sydney doesn’t change anything? I thought so.Oh, Pippy. There is so much I can say about our friendship right now. I should probably try to cut back on some of it and

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-56867928238942093712011-03-17T20:42:00.009+10:002011-03-17T21:08:41.960+10:00

Soooo as I was walking along bobbing my head to my iPod on the way to the bus stop this morning, this AMAZING song came on my shuffle and I thought, woa, this must be from one of the new albums I recently ripped off the internet purchased, legally. You can imagine my surprise when I looked at the credits and discovered that it was not in fact new but rather, a little bit old and REALLY popular

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-7546809827264866162011-03-13T21:33:00.009+10:002011-03-16T22:00:01.628+10:00

I have decided to start this series so that I may a) have a means to explain in detail very boring aspects about my life and b), draw. I am an exceptional artist, as you will soon witness, and this way I can keep you informed about what my head is up to and also show you how just how very talented I am.Perhaps the most profound thing I have uncovered this week is that I am in fact a writer above

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-29026388702025989452011-03-07T22:34:00.008+10:002011-03-17T07:38:44.146+10:00

“If you don't get lost, there's a chance you may never be found.” - unknownI had a bit of an epiphany the other day. Before you start to get excited, I should let you know that I have epiphanies in the same frequency as most people go grocery shopping, which is why I feel like when I tell people I’m 26 I should point out that I am actually a dog and have lived seven years for every one. Yes, my

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-14156076777476781332011-03-03T21:30:00.006+10:002011-03-14T18:25:28.423+10:00

One of my favourite things in the world would have to be crossing things off my to-do list. It makes me feel all accomplished and god-like.The only problem is that alongside "grab puppy poo bags" and "go to pilates" is, in dot point form, "start a business" and "write a book" and "solve the world's problems", all in the next two weeks. I am not exaggerating. The first two are on there explicitly,

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-51505963164865590702011-03-02T08:20:00.006+10:002011-03-14T18:25:00.884+10:00

I went for a run last night and today, I feel better than I have in weeks. My head is a little bit clearer, I feel a little bit fresher and I CAN BARELY MOVE.You see, border collie Puppy Dog and I have a lot in common. We're both extremely picky with who we hang out with, we despise shitty food (the only home brand thing we've ever bought him was doggie biscuits, I swear!), we get a bit anxious

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-37025125177649487792011-02-28T10:43:00.005+10:002011-03-14T18:24:40.642+10:00

There are days when I love my work, and by love I mean I want to MAKE love to my work. It's creative, it's dealing with pretty things, it gains me respect (I think), it's varied, and it fulfills a side of my brain that, in many other jobs, merely acquires dust bugs. It's a lusty, passion-filled relationship.Then there are other days - the days when I think, for fuck's sake, this isn't a

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-40880987319056826712011-02-26T22:15:00.004+10:002011-03-14T18:24:26.095+10:00

Sanity is a full-time job.Running. Writing. Yoga. Reading. Socialising. Therapy. Meditation. Eating cupcakes. Sleeping. Listening to music.And sometimes, I just need a few weeks off.

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-44749417139514514372011-02-25T21:33:00.006+10:002011-03-14T18:24:18.849+10:00

Boyfriend (after a few beers): You stole my computer charger. I want to make you go get it, but you've got a sore brain.-sighs--frowns--walks to the living room--comes back with charger-Me: -remains in bed-(ongoing)

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-62249205240709219082011-02-25T09:14:00.004+10:002011-03-14T18:24:12.315+10:00

I have been taking these classes at the School of Philosophy since around October last year, right about the time when my business had launched and I had to accept the fact that I had truly lost my mind. They don't exactly tell you that could be a side effect of entrepreneurship, you know. Anyway, enrolling in that school is probably the best decision I have ever made, as it has brought me closer

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-67059563870747271692011-02-24T21:21:00.005+10:002011-03-14T18:24:04.070+10:00

Sometimes, I'm just so grateful that at the end of a long day, I have a beautiful family, a beautiful selection of music and beautiful books to come home to.It makes it all seem okay. Beautiful, even.My moment looks much like the above photo right now, except you can't see the lyrics I'm listening to, which pretty much make me swoon in poetic excellence. And so I have posted them below, because

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-75440588042235607312011-02-24T10:55:00.006+10:002011-03-14T18:23:55.206+10:00

In other news, do you know what I love most about making nothing and working on passion projects which may pay me enough money to survive one day but give me nothing but a head way too full of too much crap and a bit of heartburn right now? Erm. FREE STUFF! Especially free food. Especially free meals at nice restaurants that I wouldn't pay for even IF I had money. Why, I'd use THAT money for

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-56351243261804383152011-02-24T08:40:00.005+10:002011-03-14T18:23:49.276+10:00

Well, this blog has pretty much become the equivalent of a yo-yo diet based on grapefruit and egg one day and lard with a side of sour cream the next. This is much like a day in the life of Seema's head, except sometimes, I have ice cream, such as when Puppy Dog and I are taking a walk together, or when Puppy Dog and I are lounging together, or anytime at all when I'm with Puppy Dog. Or of course

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-23671860656290161332010-12-14T21:55:00.002+10:002011-03-17T07:25:16.083+10:00

First published on Side Street, Sydney on December 14, 2010. You can see it here.Wikileaks.It is the news topic of the moment, and, although time is yet to prove it, it is most likely the news topic of our generation. We haven’t had a My Lai massacre or a Watergate, and I for one had long been of the opinion that we never would again. THAT was investigative journalism’s heyday, when one reporter’

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-63967247602224334722010-11-25T17:12:00.003+10:002011-03-14T18:23:41.916+10:00

I’ll start this post by saying that this week, I feel better. Hopefully next week I’ll feel even betterer, and the week after that, betterest. Hey, I’ve been depressed. I’M ALLOWED TO MAKE UP WORDS IF I WANT TO.I suppose admitting it has been a massive step for me, as it has enabled me to recognise what it is that I need to “fix”. Before I said the D-word, a good 11 months had passed where I was

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-71170869355640300052010-11-18T08:13:00.004+10:002011-03-14T18:23:36.804+10:00

me: What do you miss most about me, from the early days?him: Your smiles.me: My smiles?him: When you would smile, your whole face would smile, and sometimes, it's like you could smile for days.me: How long have they been gone for?him: Since around Christmas.me: I miss my smiles, too.

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-47452443826108602232010-11-15T18:25:00.009+10:002011-03-14T18:23:32.154+10:00

*ed note: I made the post I refer to in this one private when I decided to make the blog public again. Woa, that sounds confusing. It was all about how much my life sucks and how sad my past was, and I don't know if that stuff belongs in the public realm. It belongs in my head and sometimes in that of my friends' after a few bottles of tequila.Woa. So that post right before was a bit of a party

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-24286411664659030362010-09-28T21:41:00.002+10:002011-03-18T14:52:05.860+10:00

Published as the 6 page headlining feature in Yen Issue 46, September 2010.Yen sits down with five creative visionaries from across the world to uncover what their city means to them – and how where they live makes their work thrive.There are people, everywhere; chasing life in a race against themselves, eyes straight ahead, the world around them a mere nuisance, if regarded at all. The lights

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083557442587362071.post-77188145822777290422010-09-02T19:16:00.000+10:002011-03-14T19:21:49.652+10:00

As before, but this time I wrote a kind of "manifesto" for the Final Episode woman. She's evil and beautiful and totally terrifying. It went on the back cover of the zine.She can feel the eyes gaze upon herBut she’s not really sure why they’re thereAnd truth be told, she doesn’t careAlthough she could hold them if she felt so inclinedAnd hold the great inquisition in her stareWithout a flinch,

Seemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16586305571129655780noreply@blogger.com0