The struggle is real… and so is Netflix-Ass

Oh lordy it’s been a stressful week. Things way beyond my control keep arising and I haven’t felt this stressed out since I was accused of colluding on a 4% lab project in 3rd year psychology. (I didn’t collude). Weeks like these make me want to climb into a hole and make friends with the…

Easter, Eavesdropping, and the end of Extroversion.

Ah crap, I already screwed up my resolution to post once a week. Now you can see why things like “will learn to run 5km without death” and “try to answer the phone without fear” end up as nice ideas instead of solid accomplishments when I set goals. We went away for a few days…

Two girls walk into a pub 

I am committing sleep hygiene crime here. I’m writing this post on my phone, lying on my side, illuminated only by the auto brightness setting. I should’ve just had the warm milk… I may as well write this post in reverse chronological order (because that’s how my brain functions at this time.) It’s 2.50am and…

Silent night.

I usually write a post about Christmas at this time. It’s usually not really about the joy and the gratitude, but rather the stress and the hostility. But I’m not going to do that this year. This year is going to be different. This year, I plan to be zen as f*ck. How have I…

Clean up in Aisle 3.

Apologies for the two week halt on posts.. it happens. I have considered writing a blog-a-day. Then I realised the daily immortalizing of my often non-eventful, non adventures may bore some readers to tears, so weekly-slash-fortnightly is as good as I can do right now. Today, friends, I’d like to talk about fear. Not the…

I’ll pass on the Orange Shake thanks.

Holy mother of all things orange and raging. This has been the worst week since that time I won the  Canterbury Regional Athletic Sports for High Jump (first letters capitalised because that’s how exciting it was when I was 11), then went home to ride my bike, crash into my (overly large, but no judgement) neighbor…

99 bottles of beer on the wall….

One evening after dinner, but before all the kids were down for the night, James and I had a beer. Okay, a bourbon and coke. Okay two. We sat there, and smiled at each other. James looked at his drink, then at me, then at the room where the kids were hanging out. “Wouldn’t parenting…

No really, I’m totally qualified..

Well that was a Debbie Downer. Let’s be honest though, I knew it would say this. I’m pretty sure I’ve talked about impostor syndrome in an earlier post but I can’t be bothered doing that thing where I look through all my old posts, become distracted by how crap they are, spend 4 hours trying to…

Dirty Expectations.

I imagine it was probably 1988. We were about 7 or 8 at the time. There was a movie that played on television, and all the kids were talking about it. Ok, the girls were. Ok, one of them was. She was the rebel kid who I was part scared of, and part in awe…