The Antilogy |

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Tuesday Jan 29, 2013

My parents were big on giving nicknames to Sabine and I as children. There is one that I do not tell people about, there are the nonsensical ones like pachooka and evagoomba, as well as the standard chicken, possum etc.

Dad used to call me troglodyte. I just thought it was a made up term of endearment.

Until an Ancient History class in year 11 when we were reading something abut primitive man/cave men stuff and I saw troglodyte written.

To my teacher and Beth I exclaimed, “That’s my Dad’s pet name for me!”

My teacher then asked me if my father liked me and explained what a troglodyte was.

I also thought my step-father made up the songs Black Betty, Ballroom Blitz and My Boomerang Won’t Come Back, because really, those can’t be real songs. Surely.

Parents and step-parents can be arseholes.


Sunday Jan 20, 2013

I’m 31 and I still struggle with what words to use to describe my *ahem* body parts.

Vagina is too clinical, pussy is too porn star, c*nt is too, too and vajayjay is too Oprah.

Breasts is okay but pretty bland, tits is too crass, tata’s is awesome but it doesn’t flow.

I don’t understand how there aren’t any appropriate words. We need to invent words that can be used when talking to friends and with lovers. That aren’t cringeworthy or crass.

And that’s my disjointed and slightly inappropriate thought for today.


Wednesday Jan 16, 2013

Only 3 days after returning from 3 weeks off and work has broken me already.

While I’m not surprised in anyway shape or form that it happened, I am surprised by the speed.

Every early January I think maybe I could stop taking anti-depressants. I’m relaxed, I’m getting enough sleep, I’m eating well and I’m happy. The couple of times I’ve actually stopped taking them I’ve unsurprisingly ended up in a sad ball of flub on my shower floor 3-4 weeks later

In an obvious connection I take a couple of weeks off every Christmas. This is what being on holidays does to me. I am the best me I can possibly be. I drink in the afternoon, I take afternoon naps, I eat avocado on toast for breakfast, I read a lot.

Ergo. I need to stop work to be happy. I’ve done my calculations and I would need 7 million dollars to retire. This involves buying a lovely terrace in Sydney, my farm, houses for the parentals, buy nice things, travel and never work again.

This is also why I have an online lottery account.

Until then I will be over here medicated and unhappy at work.



Friday Jan 4, 2013

I am on holidays and I am so fucking happy about it, it’s not even funny.

I’m napping everyday, I’m going out for breakfast, lunch and/or dinner. I am having afternoon drinks, I am going to the beach, I am reading and I’m catching up with friends.

So happy.

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