Amy Schumer – Girl With The Lower Back Tattoo

Amy Schumer – I wasn’t even sure how I felt about her before I read this book. In truth, my most instant thought association was her appearance on Lena Dunham’s stupid podcast or whatever it is. In that podcast, Lena Dunham talked shit out of her asshole again and made offensive, self-serving comment about an NFL player that didn’t make googly eyes at her and went on to ascribe her own feelings of sexism upon him – when he, an innocent party, had no idea that he’d even done anything wrong.

Anyway, that aside, I felt like Amy Schumer has been a little hypocritical in the past.

That being said, haven’t we all? We’re human, we’ve all got our short-falls, and Amy Schumer is not an exception; so if something she has said in present, conflicts with something she said off-the-cuff a zillion years ago, is it really fair to judge her solely upon that?

No.

So I bought the book from my trusty, fun friends over at K-Mart (Goodness me, I love Kmart). I decided to give it a go.

amy

I was not sorry. 

Amy Schumer opens the book stating that if one is to look for advice, they will not find it stuck inside the pages of her book.

I felt like she was selling herself short dramatically; especially when I read things like this;

“There are a lot of firsts like this in life, little flashpoints here and there when you’re unknowingly becoming a woman. And it’s not the cliched shit, like when you have your first kiss or drive your first care. You become a woman for the first time when you stand up for yourself when they get your order wrong at dinner, or when you realise your parents are full of shit.

You become a woman the first time you get fitted for a bra and realise you’ve been wearing a very wrong size your whole fucking life. You become a woman the first time you fart in front of a boyfriend. The first time a heart breaks. The first time you break someone else’s heart.

Throughout this book, Amy made me both laugh and cry. She talked about her childhood, her lessons in trust, her relationship issues – coming from abuse and breaking the pattern of behaviours that can be too hard to shake.

Amy shared excerpts from her diary with footnotes (and one or two that, I am not shitting you, I laughed so hard I could breathe and had to call my best friend and share it with her so that she could hear me laugh so hard that I couldn’t breathe) which show that she too, had a dramatic teenage and young-adult life just the same as any other girl reading the book.

Her self-deprecating humour really appeals to me because I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how I joke about life too. Her funny-yet-tragically sad chapters about her father’s batter with MS made me cry and also laugh.

Over-all, I feel like on paper she’s incredibly witty, smart and just like me, she is an introvert and basically that makes me like her.

In all seriousness, I judged unfairly. I loved this book and I read it very quickly.

And after this book I watched some stand up, she is brutal — but hilarious. I have a newfound respect for her. I might even go to see her stand up over Christmas! Who knows!

The Cancer Journey

I’m totally over the cancer journey.

I hate cancer.

I mean, I haven’t heard anyone who loved it, but I’m just fed up and tired of it. I hate how my life has become so desensitised toward it. I hate watching what it does to my Mum and I hate how much she has lost in her life since she had her second diagnosis in March 2015.

March 2015, that’s right — that was the second diagnosis of cancer less than three years after the first.

canc

On 2nd April, 2015, I wrote this in my physical journal;

“Its that short span of time between waking up and recollecting the millions of tiny thoughts inside your brain. It disrupts the peace that allows me to be ignorant of the stress and concerns that dominate me around the clock. That moment is brief and fleeting but it’s welcome and it is the only thing that gives me the ability to launch myself out of bed. Without that, I doubt I would feel as much motivation or even will to get through the day

What a world we are away from that.

Cancer has just become a daily part of my thoughts and feelings that it has been engrained in us all to feel normal; that chemotherapy is normal and the side effects and the doctors appointments, treatments, setbacks and more are just a all part and parcel.

I wake up and don’t even think about cancer for the most part, but I do check my phone to make sure no one has tried to call me or message me about my Mum in my sleep – to make sure that I haven’t missed out on any emergencies.

Oh, I definitely have the right to feel that given that my Mum had a massive seizure only a week and a half ago; so I am sometimes on edge and I am sometimes ruled from minute to minute by my anxiety and obsessive compulsive disorder which is triggered by my Mum’s health and whether or not she seems ‘okay’ to me.

I am used to feeling like we can’t seem to catch a break. I am used to arguing with her about eating something and making sure she is strong. I am used to hear her telling me that she is sick of feeling sick and just over it all.

That’s something I guess I can relate to.

Metastatic breast cancer is no fucking joke. For those of you that don’t know, metastatic breast cancer is when the cancer has metastasised elsewhere in her body. In her case, it was in her lungs and then less than a year later, in her brain.

Cancer of the brain is also no fucking joke.

The hardest part about this is having to watch someone that you love and care about lose their faculties. In November last year my Mum lost the ability to type on the computer, text on her phone, walk without tripping and stumbling and it was swift and sudden and she required immediate treatment after some mini seizures.

According to her most recent appointments, she will begin a new chemotherapy on Monday and her brain MRI has been sent to Melbourne for the perusal of some other specialists to see if she will require targeted treatment (although happy with current results).

It’s just exhausting and to be honest, I’m not even her, I can’t imagine how she feels… and disease aside; it’s really pulled the curtain open on the disgusting behaviour of other people — their heartlessness, their ability to turn their back on someone while making excuses for why their life is so hard… it’s just overall, shit.

I just woke up today feeling like more emotional about the fact that I hate cancer and I hate that it’s a part of our lives and anyone else’s lives for that matter.

Candle – Guy Sebastian Single – Review

guy Guy Sebastian’s new single, Candle dropped on September 9.

Following successful singles from the Madness album such as Mama Ain’t Proud, Like A Drum and Come Home With Me, Candle has taken on a totally different feel, contrasting from the foot-tapping beat from the previous, to a rockier and much edgier feel.

Still, in the same vain of other hits, Sebastian’s incredible, soulful vocals contain that catchiness that has kept him commercially successful.

The lyrics may be simple but the message of the song is clear and refreshing; ‘All I want is my woman’.

Step off girls, no-one can hold a candle to his wife!

Full disclosure: I have been a huge Guy Sebastian fan since he won Idol in 2003 and it has been a complete joy to watch him evolve and grow up from a talented kid from Adelaide to an amazing musician whose vocals are pretty much out of this world.

Candle is a radio-friendly track with tempo and vocal changes throughout that show off his stunning pipes and musical capabilities.

It is an easy sing-along that could potentially become the annoying ear-worm that you can’t help but to sing under your breath all day long.

I’m no expert, but I would take a guess and say that we will hear this song in heavy rotation over the next few weeks and probably well in to springtime.

Very excited to hear Guy Sebastian’s next album after being such a huge fan of Madness.

To buy/listen to Candle;
Apple Music
GooglePlay
Spotify

And here is a photo of Guy Sebastian and I from 10 years ago, just … because. Testing out our gangsta (duck) faces or something, if I recall; just like old homies from across the way.

guy

Naked Truth Chocolate Range – Review

Naked Truth Chocolate and confectionary is one of my favourite indulgences.

I discovered the range about two years ago at Coles supermarket and often make the trip to get nothing more than a chocolate bar (or six). I rate this product above Cadbury chocolate, Lindt chocolate and many other of the world famous brands.

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The range is pretty broad with chocolate combinations that can seem like straight up madness.

White chocolate with raspberry and balsamic
Spice chai latte with milk chocolate
Coffee beans and popping candy milk chocolate
Puffed quinoa, almonds and blueberry milk chocolate
Fig, toasted almond and coconut milk chocolate
Espresso kick dark chocolate
Lime chilli dark chocolate
Lemon coconut cream pie white chocolate
Raspberry cheesecake bar
Salted caramel milk chocolate
Jam doughnut milk chocolate
Salted flakes dark chocolate
Goji berry and toasted dark chocolate
Almond butter brownie milk chocolate
Fig and macadamia milk chocolate

Aside from these so-crazy-it-just-might-work chocolate combinations, Naked Truth also make a whole bunch of different lollies that take on their own spin just like the chocolates.

chocoalmonds

I’m not really in to sweets like lollies myself, but I have a packet of the salted caramel banana milkshakes — because I’m a total nut for anything that has a salted caramel flavour.

My personal favourites are the salted caramel milk chocolate bar – it is sweet and has the perfect hit of salt. I don’t know about you, but when something is advertised as salted caramel, I want to be able to taste that beautiful complement of flavours. The Naked Truth salted caramel milk chocolate finds that perfect balance between the sweet and savoury. Unfortunately for me, I can’t stop at just one small portion, I have to basically eat the entire bar and then some!

I am also a big fan of the raspberry cheesecake bar and the jam doughnut bar (I actually don’t think this is still for sale, bugger!) and the white chocolate, raspberry balsamic is out of this world.

Also, I figure almonds are a good source of energy and good fats right? Right, so Naked Truth’s range of cocoa dusted scorched almonds are sure to be a huge hit with me when I open them up later on!

 

In terms of chocolate and how much I love the stuff, I would give this product a great recommendation. If you can get to Coles, buy some immediately! 🙂

Check out the website of The Naked Truth to see all of their beautiful products.

naked

September Book Haul & Wizard of Oz Creeper

september

Oh, September, I promised I wouldn’t buy anymore books while you were visiting…

But oh well, I lied.

September

Really though, I have no reason to purchase anymore books for as at least the month of October and November … unless they’re at a bargain price…

I’m not the kind of person who reads to a schedule. A lot of book bloggers have their month mapped out in terms of what they plan on reading — but that’s not me, I’m not the ordered and organised type. My blog schedule is a mess, I don’t stick to my own plans, my social media is always in shambles — quite frankly, I’m surprised I can put my pants on the right way round in the morning.

And yet, somehow I manage to.

For that, I think we can all be thankful.

For the past few months I’ve been actively reading two books at a time – ask me a year ago and this would have been unheard of! Mixing characters and plots, sounds so… dirty. And yet, there is a method to my madness.

I use an e-Reader (Kindle, actually) when I read in bed at night so as not to keep company awake (my dog hates it when I leave the lamp on, she can’t sleep) and my vision in dim-light becomes even more impaired (and really, have you ever tried to wear your glasses laying down? Its actually not even an option, ridiculous!) and in the harsh light of day (hisssss!), I read my hardcopy book so as not to annoy anyone or destroy my vision.

I’ll tell you what, though, I bought “When The Moon Is Low” by Nadia Hashimi despite the fact that I’ve already read it (it is a beautiful story regarding Afghani refugees)… but all of these books here cost me well under $100.

So, fact about me; I am a really big fan of anything Wizard of Oz related. I mean, I liked the movie as a kid, but as an adult I’ve really appreciated the simplicity of it. We recently watched it and my boyfriend made fun of how ‘stupid’ it was and I had to point out that 1939 was a much different time – the Wizard of Oz was considered incredible for its time as was Judy Garland. I pointed out that he’s been ruined by movies full of blood, guts, sex and debauchery. Aside from that, I also love any other sub-stories that have been spun from the Wizard of Oz alternate universe.

Wicked by Gregory Maguire is my #1 favourite book. It was one of the first books that allowed me to understand that awful feeling of book grief that many people complain about.

So… imagine how I felt today when I had a quick browse through a local bargain bookshop and saw these three books for FIVE DOLLARS EACH.

september

september

While I said that I don’t read to a monthly / September schedule or a pre-determined TBR list, I will probably read these three books next (maybe with something in between each, I am a glutton for everything that I love, I need to learn to pace myself).

I really, really hope that these will be wonderful books. I have read mixed reviews over at Goodreads, but those reviewers also tried to tell me that Irvine Welsh’s, Sex Lives of Siamese Twins was bad and that John Green’s Looking for Alaska was ah-may-zah-hing, so heh, I know not to trust most of them.

So I’ve read three books already this September and right now I’m in the middle of reading the Amy Schumer biography, Girl With The Lower Back Tattoo. On paper she’s witty, intelligent and interesting – but I find her sometimes to be quite hypocritical in terms of her feminist views and practical approaches to certain issues. However, thankfully that’s not currently distracting from the book. On the kindle, I am reading The Time Travellers Wife finally after it has been recommended to me for years.

While I was on my bargain book shop, I also picked up this coffee table book for my Mum. She loves these comics and she doesn’t use the internet as much as she used to, so I figured a hardcopy version might give her a laugh or two.

September

After all that, I suppose more than posting about my book haul for September, I really probably just wanted to talk about how much I love Wizard of Oz alternate universe-based books/media.

Fun fact: I went through a stage where I was so obsessed with the Wicked Soundtrack, I made my fantasy Broadway actor cast for it in my head every day as I drove to work and of course I’d be the leading role of Elphaba and would choose the beautiful Fiyero to be played by the one and only Rent / Law & Order / The Flash broadway sensation, Jesse L Martin, and we’d sing the entire soundtrack together over and over and over — and ultimately fall in love on set and fly away on a broomstick together… and I’d stay home raising our children while he went back to the Central City precinct to help catch more Meta Humans with The Flash (yes, reality and Oz universe collided, made love and then took a giant dump here, I honestly don’t make a lot of sense of the fantasy either…).

September

Jesse L Martin

What I am basically saying, is that I sang the soundtrack to an audience of no one on a daily basis as I readied myself for work, drove to work, drove home from work and ultimately cried tears of, my life is so very, very small.

jkjkjkjk.

Sort of.

So yeah, there’s my September book haul that got kind of weird toward the end.

#sorrynotsorry.

What you got on the cards for September, baby?

September

Lilac Girls by Martha Hall-Kelly [REVIEW]

lilac girls

I read a really important book this week: Lilac Girls by Martha Hall Kelly and I recommend it to anyone who has the will to learn about history and to become engulfed by some purely wonderful reading.

Three girls from three different lifestyles from three different countries cross paths during the rigours of World War II.

From Goodreads:

New York socialite Caroline Ferriday has her hands full with her post at the French consulate and a new love on the horizon. But Caroline’s world is forever changed when Hitler’s army invades Poland in September 1939—and then sets its sights on France.

An ocean away from Caroline, Kasia Kuzmerick, a Polish teenager, senses her carefree youth disappearing as she is drawn deeper into her role as courier for the underground resistance movement. In a tense atmosphere of watchful eyes and suspecting neighbors, one false move can have dire consequences.

For the ambitious young German doctor, Herta Oberheuser, an ad for a government medical position seems her ticket out of a desolate life. Once hired, though, she finds herself trapped in a male-dominated realm of Nazi secrets and power.

The lives of these three women are set on a collision course when the unthinkable happens and Kasia is sent to Ravensbrück, the notorious Nazi concentration camp for women. Their stories cross continents—from New York to Paris, Germany, and Poland—as Caroline and Kasia strive to bring justice to those whom history has forgotten

Review:

I could not put this book down – I read 350 pages of it in one Sunday afternoon sitting (it did help that I have been sick and almost bed-ridden). I am a sucker for a good historical fiction any day of the week, but Martha Hall Kelly smashed this one right out of the park.

This book was written beautifully and from the perspective of all three women throughout important and poignant stages of their lives. As I read this book, I began to realise, without knowing too much, that this story was built on true events and actual people. I began to read some, research some and so on … I was so excited to realise that socialite, Caroline Ferriday was a real person!

I felt so connected to each character and so entranced by each of their stories and felt the heart break of both Caroline and especially Kasia. I had to keep turning the pages to see what would happen next, as well as cross referencing the actual historical version of events.

Martha Hall Kelly wrote the horrors of what the Nazi’s had subjected the Lilac Girls to, how the healthy young body’s were defiled and violated. She added colour and tone to facts and events that took place at Ravensbrück concentration camp as well as the Neuremberg Trials where Herta Oberheuser met her fate for the crimes that she had committed against humanity.

The portrayal of Caroline Ferriday was beautiful and easily imaginable. At first her chapters felt a bit dry, but as her plight began to unravel, I fell in love with her heart – the way she used her social standing for her cause and her unrelenting loyalty to those who were in need. I learned the most about Caroline Ferriday while researching for myself and saw that who she really was, is very accurate to how the author of Lilac Girls portrayed her.

lilac girls

The real Caroline Ferriday with the real Lilac Girls

I feel like this book was so cleverly put together and have an immense respect for the commitment and research that Martha Hall Kelly put in to make this book as beautiful and as brilliant as it is. Not only did I become engrossed in the story, but I also learned things about World War II that I didn’t know without it feeling like an overwhelming block of wordy information.

Over all, this has got to be one of the best books I have ever read. I was so grateful to receive an advanced readers copy from the legends over at Penguin Random House Australia – probably my most favourite book that I’ve received since beginning this blog. I don’t generally give books 5 stars, but I’ve been incredibly lucky to have read what have been two consecutive five star books.

I am going to recommend this book to everyone starting right here! Thank you Martha Hall Kelly for bringing the story of Caroline Ferriday and the Lilac Girls to light — another important story of devastation, bravery and heroism from the past that really needs to have more of a spotlight.

Week In Review – The Sick Files

sick

I had September all planned out – it was all blog schedules and gettin’ shit done.

Then I got sick and everything went through the window.

At the beginning of the week, we were waiting for results for my Mums CT scans. In case you missed the memo, my Mum has been dealing with cancer for far too long now — and these scans send us in to anxiousness and panic — a good friend of mine refers to it as scanxiety. Scanxiety is sure a good expression for it.

The results came back okay, thankfully – we received that news on Monday. There’s been no spread and the tumors in her brain are okay. The doctor was overall happy with the result and gave her a brief break from chemotherapy — we figured that was celebration-worthy.

Especially after the pure nauseousness that scanxiety induces.

And then on Wednesday, I started to get sick.

I haven’t been this sick for about two years now. The problem isn’t really with getting sick for me, its that when the coughing sets in, its really hard to cough up the gross stuff when you only have half of the resources to do it. Having one lung is no joke, people. Especially when you can’t sleep because you can’t stop the friggin’ coughing.

So, Friday rolled around and I migrated from the bed to the couch and began to watch episode after episode of Law & Order SVU between my coughing and spluttering and constant eye watering. I texted with my Mum who checked in to make sure I was okay.

About an hour or so later, I  was trying to doze off when my phone rang — a call from my Mum’s husband which sent me in to a panic — he doesn’t generally call for chit-chat, I knew something was wrong immediately. I answered the phone to an absolute panicked voice saying my Mum had been rushed to hospital with a massive seizure and that the paramedics were working on her.

I entirely lost my shit. I can’t even verbalise my panic. I said I’d be there ASAP. I scrambled around in the midst of a giant panic attack; couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find clothes, ran around in circles, called my boyfriend to come and get me immediately because I knew I wouldn’t have been able to drive myself and spent the next fifty minutes (the time it took to arrive to the hospital) imagining the worst, horrible, unimaginable scenarios playing out.

My OCD brain immediately began dominating me, listing all the ways that this was obviously my fault and I would have to live with the guilt if she wasn’t okay.

Once at the hospital, my boyfriend dropped me off at the Emergency entry to go and park. I waited for him, stalling, too scared to go and ask to see her in case any of my imagined scenarios were a reality. And then infuriatingly when I did get the courage, there was some meandering guy standing at the admin window just chatting / complaining. I asked to be let in to see my Mum.

Frightening — even going through the doors.

Thankful to God, I walked in and found her laying in a bed being observed by nurses who were about to take blood. She noticed me. I asked if she was okay, she said she was. She was moving, she could see – I began to cry, feeling genuinely sick with relief that flooded me… looking at my Mum’s husband, I could tell her had been just as scared and as frightened as I was.

They were both white — having given them both a fright.

They did another CT which came back just the same as it had on Monday and she stayed overnight for observation and I visited her at home the next morning where she considered that we could go to the shop to feed her new Pandora ring obsession. No, though, I wanted her to rest and wasn’t feeling up to scratch myself.

Since then, I’ve been in bed coughing, coughing, coughing. Up all night coughing, coughing, coughing… It hasn’t been fun. I hope all this shittiness passes soon.

Girl In Pieces – Kathleen Glasgow: Book Review

You can check over my reading history – you’ll see that it’s rare that I give anything a 5 star rating.

I don’t give things five star ratings in most cases because I am a no-shit, hard-to-please bitch.

I have so many things to say about this book and I’m not gonna lie to you, they’re mostly good and they’re real things and maybe it’s going to be personal, so if that’s gonna make you uncomfortable, stop reading now.

To quote the words of the only woman that I would ever truly turn officially gay for, Mariah Carey; Thank God, I found you I was lost without you. My feelings for Girl in Pieces are that real.

pieces

Kathleen Glasgow is amazing. She is amazing for a whole bunch of reasons, but I think we should celebrate the most important reason and it is this; she was brave enough to write something so raw and what would be so personally challenging and probably emotionally exhausting.

Girl In Pieces was about a young girl, not even an adult, who by circumstances, finds herself in situations that no person should have to endure; her coping strategies are self-harm which is where the book begins, 17 year old Charlie’s stay in a mental health facility, trying to deal cope with all of her issues and struggles.

This book reads like the mind of anyone going through a mental health illness and I have read similar books of the same nature that are written in the same way — it is pretty much an accuracy of dealing with mental health issues – it’s how the mind works; fleeting thoughts, repetitive feelings, anger, sadness, upset, calmness; rinse, wash, repeat.

I have read a few previous reviews for Girl in Pieces that angered me; I’m not looking to disrespect anyone, but all I’m saying is don’t do the book a disservice by rating it low because you don’t ‘connect’ with it. You’re not ‘connecting’ and you’re pulling it apart and saying that it’s too much bad stuff, because you haven’t dealt with real, debilitating and serious mental health issues because if you have/did, you would understand, that as Glasgow put it to me over twitter (yes, I know, I was a little fangirly about that) ‘some girls do not have an easy life.’

It’s true.

Girl in Pieces was realistic and an accurate portrayal of someone who is struggling with and who has struggled with mental health illness and still requires help after the hospital stay is over, after the doctors have concluded that you are no longer a threat to yourself. Girl in Pieces is about how sometimes we think we are going so well but can’t see the tiny bits of backsliding that are slowly but surely happening. This book is about the process of recovery – about how it isn’t and will never be perfect and that a cure is not within the realm of possibility.

Thank God for this book.

pieces

It brings truth and comfort to those who suffer mental health illness.

I have been on the search recently for fictional books that will accurately describe mental health issues and I have read a few that I didn’t bother reviewing based on how disappointed I was. Mental health isn’t a journey whereby the person is only sick until someone comes along and saves them and carries them off in to the fairytale sunset.

Whatever struggles encumber you, you will endure probably for a long time — it is just that with constant care and recovery, your coping skills become better and you live on the hope that all the things that you see in others will become a part of your life too; calmness, joy, happiness, laughter and a rational sadness that won’t spiral out of control.

As if it couldn’t get any better, I came across this quote and almost cried with relief;

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Charlie. Not one thing. Can’t you see that?”
But that’s a lie, isn’t it? Because there are so many things wrong with me, obviously and actually. What I want Mikey to say is: There are so many things wrong with you and it doesn’t matter.”

Fuck. Yes.

Sometimes this is the only reaction I want. For someone not to disregard flaws or fears or imperfections; to address them but to accept them unconditionally anyway. It’s okay to acknowledge that something is wrong; it’s truth, it’s not okay to pretend they’re not there to avoid discomfort.

This book had a realistic ending; not a fairytale ending.

And the personal authors note at the end of the book sealed the deal. Kathleen Glasgow was honest about her own experiences and offers hope and advice to those who are struggling.

Girl in Pieces is a hard read, its a dark read and it probably isn’t the book for some; it could even present as a trigger to someone going through something; but if you have mental health illness and you want to feel like you’ve been understood and fairly represented in terms of thoughts and feelings; I recommend this book to you. Maybe it won’t speak to you the way it spoke to me, but I hope that it will.

Five friggin’ stars.

Michael Jackson – Legends Never Die

Michael Jackson was everything to me from the time I became old enough to acknowledge him, right up until I was about 25 years old.

When I read posts about other people’s fandoms; of other people writing about someone or something as a ‘lifeline’, I cringe and feel embarrassed for them, so I’ll try not to do that.

However, being a fan of Michael brought very many special things to my life — the most important being friendship. Its no secret to most people that I had traveled to see him live (or at least, in person) on occasions — through those travels, I built friendships with other people who I had a lot in common with – the type of people that I wouldn’t/couldn’t encounter in my everyday life.

Aside from that, my experiences meeting Michael Jackson face-to-face are treasured memories that not a lot of people were able to experience. At that point in my life, I didn’t ever think anything could ever be more exciting than seeing the person that I had looked up to for decades right in front of me staring back at me welcoming, friendly, loving and kindly. And honestly? I don’t think I’ve ever encountered such excitement since — I was right to revel in it.

Michael

Michael Jackson, as his son put it today, the day of his birthday, was to most a legend and myth– someone who became known more for the media’s portrayal of him — the target board of a playful game of darts over at the office — he ceased to be human to most; a personality rather than a person – and the kind of water-cooler fodder that most took glee in poking fun at.

Honestly, those reasons alone are probably one of the reasons why Michael Jackson died a very slow victimised death. From the rise of the top, to the fall that was carefully constructed at the hands of the media and those who sought to profit from the sincerity of his soul.

For me, personally, I will never forget the time in my life at 19 years old where I felt stuck and without confidence or plans for the rest of my life – where Michael Jackson took my hand in his, took the time to ask about my life, asked questions with interest before telling me that I had a brilliant future ahead of me and that all it takes is one person to tell you that they believe in you to give you the faith to move mountains. I will never forget the way he added that he truly believed in me. He told me that if I was going to be a writer, I was to do it well, to do it fairly and to always have heart in my work.

And again, he believed in me.

It seems so corny perhaps to some, but at 19 years old, I walked away holding the world in my hands.

He was special and people knew it — unfortunately even those who were unkind.

It is easy to forget that while he was not only a musical legend and entertainer, he was also, most importantly, someone’s father, someone’s brother and someone’s son, someone’s best friend – and none of those people deserved to lose someone so tragically – especially not his children who I will always remember watching him parent with love and kindness and good-humour.

michael-jackson

This is my birthday dedication to someone who became the king of my heart – who always remains there in a very special place with a love that feels unique that I couldn’t replicate for anyone else. It has been seven years since he’s been gone and while I have grown up and moved on from that part of my life – I have a life here planted in Australia with my partner and dog and a job, I still have my friendships that he left me with; I still have the music and most importantly, I have unique, special memories of my teenage years and early adulthood.

Along with his life, this also deserves to be celebrated.

Happy birthday, Michael Jackson. I always loved you more.

Sexism Everyday – written by the Good Girl

I am not a trail-blazing feminist the way I felt like I was in my early/mid twenties, but I still like to call out sexism as it is when I see it or when I am the subject of it– in that case it is especially hard to ignore. This post is going to be about the daily sexism I have encountered in the past few months.

Sometimes I go to sleep early — around 8-9pm if I’m tired enough. As a result I can be up as early as 5:30, but usually at least just after 6am. I like to work out before I go to work because I find it helps my moods and my anxiety for the day. Last week, I woke up at 5:40am, ate breakfast and put my work out clothes on to go do forty on the treadmill and then my circuit work out. Sometimes after a work out, I am absolutely ravenous. On this particular day, I spent a further 30 minutes making my lunch for the day and faffing about on the internet before work. I realised when it was too late that I needed to eat something before work.

I got to work and found that I had a packet of potato chips sitting on my desk from the day before that I had bought and forgotten to eat. With no other food options, I opened the bag and began to eat them. I know, I know — a lady of my age and my size (14), I could probably have stood to go without, or at least eat something that would allow me to be more of a proper lady.

sexism

I opened the door to someone and was met with a funny look from an older gentleman. He said, “are you eating chips?” (gasp, shock horror!)

Cheerfully, I said, “Yep! Want one?” offered. He declined. He said, “It’s a bit early, don’t you think?” (It was after 9am).

Still cheerful, I said, “I’ve been up for almost 5 hours now! I’m starving!”

Then, I got a lecture on how unhealthy it was to be eating potato chips at ‘this time of morning’ (or at all) and that I should try a piece of fruit.

Fuck off. Firstly, I’m sure he wouldn’t have commented on my dietary condition if I was a guy. Also, if I chose to eat chips at 9:30 or fucking 8pm, it would still be unhealthy. If I had a fucking piece of fruit handy, I still probably would have unapologetically enjoyed the salty snack.

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And all that aside? How about you just mind your fucking business, mate?

I usually find that men who are roughly the same age as my father don’t understand just how smarmy and patronising their comments and remarks can be.

I try not to be too hard on people, sometimes they may not even realise how or why what they’ve said can be taken the wrong way, but if no one ever tells them, then how can they correct their behaviour?

One that I hear almost often – in every job I’ve ever worked and also outside of any job I’ve ever worked; “good girl”.

How arrogant, how patronising — how fucking insulting. I am not a dog. I am not your pet (I’ve been called pet, it burns me right fucking up!) do not praise me as if I am one. I am also not a girl, I am almost 33 years old. All you need to do is say thank you, that will be enough. No pet names, no back-handed insults. Oh, and no I don’t want to call you fucking Adonis (yes, that was something that happened on another occasion) at all — ever.

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I opened a door for someone the other day while the woman struggled to leave the shop where I was coming in from and once she was out, she said, “good girl!” — and honestly I wanted to let the door slam on her. I understand the intention is not cruel or patronising and in fact, its probably just gratitude, but it feels condescending and when it comes from a man, it feels like sexism at it’s finest.

In another situation outside of work, a man I knew continually referred to my friend as “the bitch”, based on a stupid misunderstanding on both their parts — both had spoken politely to one another since the occasion and it was only behind her back that he continued to call her a ‘bitch’ until I finally spoke up. What makes a person think that it is actually okay to continually refer to a person in an insulting way after a situation had been resolved?

Next time someone calls me a “good girl”, it’s going to go down like this;

“Good girl!”
“Yes, I am a good girl, may I have a treat?”
“Huh? A treat?”
“You said I was a good girl like I’m a fucking obedient animal, now where is my fucking treat!”

Because honestly, if I hear it one more time I’m going to lose my shit.

sexism