All posts filed under: Opinion Pieces

Fish fingers and custard

I’m a bit of a Johnny-Come-Lately to the world of Doctor Who. I remember as a kid watching it with Grandfather but I never bothered with the reboot until I got Netflix last year. The Australian selection of TV options was limited, to put it politely, so Doctor Who it was. I rather liked it. I must have I’ve watched all the available seasons twice.

So this is Christmas.

I would much rather talk to my friends and family throughout the year rather than stuff it all into one crazy month of; parties, lunches and random catch ups. I know we’re all busy and stuff as the days move from January to February and from February to November (at least that’s how it feels) but the concept of the holiday season leaves me scratching my bald spot.

When a post goes viral.

As a writer, or a blogger, you hope your work will resonate with an audience. Whether it’s an audience of family and friends, or maybe a stranger or two, you hope what you say will have meaning. Particularly when you write for the love of it and make no income from it. Particularly when you write from the heart.

Christmas Wrapped Propaganda is Unacceptable.

Yesterday, as reported in various media outlets, a member of the Marriage Alliance gave a School bus driver ‘gifts’ for each of the children who boarded his bus. The bus driver handed the wrapped gifts to each child who boarded the bus, as he was asked to do. When the children got home and showed their parents the gifts, they were anti-safe school propaganda. Regardless of what you think about the necessity of Safe Schools, or whether it’s appropriate, the behaviour of the Marriage Alliance is not acceptable. Take a moment to reverse this. Change the scenario. If the Gay and Lesbian Rights Lobby were responsible for providing Christmas wrapped Pro Safe School pamphlets to young children, all hell would be currently breaking loose. Groups like the Marriage Alliance feel it is their God-given right to have their voices heard. And that’s fine. It is their right, under Australian law, to be free to make their voices and opinions heard. It is not acceptable – nor their right – to approach a school bus and …

77 Votes…

When it comes to election season, no matter where you are in the world, it’s hard to believe your vote will count. There are so many people turning up at the polls, so many people all over the country, that it’s easy to think your vote doesn’t matter. In Australia we have compulsory voting. Everyone over the age of 18 is legally obligated to vote. There’s a fine if you don’t. In other countries, like America, voting is an option. If you don’t want to vote, you don’t have to. I admit that goes against everything I’ve been brought up to believe in. Sure there have been times when I looked at the available options and wished I could stay home or vote for Kodos, but regardless of the political system you live under, it usually comes down to voting for the least objectionable choice. In Australia we vote under the Westminster System which basically means we vote for a local member. The party with the most votes, wins. Since 2010 the waters surrounding how …

How needles and yarn saved my life…

My struggles with depression are well documented. The darker days are behind me (for now) but I’ll never forget the daily anxiety and panic attacks, my inability to leave the house nor the moment my sanctuary became a part of my torture and I had the first of several severe panic attacks sitting in my bedroom. The attacks had always happened outside the house. In enclosed spaces. By enclosed spaces I mean train carriages, buses and overcast days when it felt like the clouds where sitting just above my head and with the slightest provocation could descend and suffocate me where I stood. They were dark days for sure. I was unemployed, having blown up what I thought I was my last chance to have a meaningful job just weeks before. I was broke, putting on weight at a record level as I sucked down whatever food I could find. Food was a way to feel alive, yet it all tasted like ash. I was trapped. It was the sense of being trapped, both inside …