Day 01- A recent picture of you and 15 interesting facts about yourself

1. I dislike eggs, immensely

2. I'm scared of slugs

3. I often feel my dog is the only thing in the universe that understands me

4. I will forever treasure my snuggie

5. I hate Melbourne

6. I collect things, anythings.

7. Macdonalds is probably my favorite food (JUDGE ME I DARE YOU!)

8. I've never actually been with someone I loved, but that's ok :)

9. I use my magic 8 ball to make life altering decisions

10. I once broke down in tears in the disney isle of K-mart

11. I fainted on stage at the Opera house

12. I enjoy cigarettes and coffee a little too much

13. I've never missed Lithgow so much

14. Despite what you all say, Amanda Bynes is hilarious

15. I have an axelotl, I think she's dying

Lonely Hearts Club

It's Valentines day and all around the world lonely hearts are resenting that god damn candy filled, rose giving, pathetic, vomit worthy excuse for couples to show each other that on one day a year they love each other. Bah hum Bug.

What is it about today that is so epically shit for the single? Why is it that society forces us to feel the need of companionship on February 14th? What ever happened to independence?

Perhaps it is our lack of trust in ourselves that we can be content being alone without being lonely.

It is a fact that humans are a faulty species. We are beings prone to disappointment, rejection and lies. So why then is it that we desire another half of the same faults? Another half of all those things that we loathe? All of this to complete an empty or broken heart.

Perhaps it should be the aspiration of the single to have a Valentines resolution, to be completely content with oneself and therefore develop significantly as a confident, delectable human being.

Until that happens, grab the tissues, hire a soppy romantic film, buy a box of chocolates and eat that mother fucking candy, because lets face it... the only thing to gain from a day like to day is extra meat on those 'love handles'. Oh the Irony.

The Western Mans Need to Cry

As I sit on my bed for the last time in this city im overcome with nostalgia, tears flooding my worn out eyes. I can't but think, how fucking pathetic.

December last year I travelled to Vanuatu for 2 weeks where I was introduced to a nation completely unaware and in disbelief of that farce 'depression'. I met this beautiful girl called Josie who is now a dear friend, she told me her story of heart break, abuse and explained how her baby belongs to an australian man who pays no child support and has a 1% fertility rate. As we sat, drinking margaritas and smoking cigarettes, her face was filled with joy talking of her experiences, her love for her country and most of all her debt to god for her one year old daughter, the delightful accident.

Josie lives near the slums of Port Vila amongst people who are either unemployed or earning $1 an hour working for the white men of the town. I have never in my life seen such happy people.

As a sufferer of Bi Polar depression, I explained to Josie my feeling of hatred towards myself and my life at the most inappropriate and unsuspected occasions. She sat in shock and said "you know, mi never felt depressed til I left Vila to go to New Zealand". We continued to talk about depression and suicide, something which has become an unfortunate and unwelcome tradition in my home town. I was shocked when Josie began to laugh talking about the ONE person in the whole village who had ever tried, only to be turned away by receiving ridicule from his friends. It was the same in Kenya, the thought of depression was horrific and fictional to ever villager we talked to.

Why is it that as Westerners, with so much, so many things, so much money we are so fucking sad? Why is it that we fall into pits of utter despair for sometimes no reason when there are people who are dying, content at 40 with minimal possessions and a lack of inheritance?

Maybe its not what we don't have, but what we have. We're ungrateful, materialistic bastards whether it is purely the influence of culture or a conscious choice.

I want to understand, I want to be able to be rid of my possessions, my attachment to such worldly, ridiculous items of popular culture...

but god damn I love my Super Nintendo. :/

Life at a Funeral

It’s so ironic the amount of memories that are made a funeral, whether it be the celebration of past experiences with the deceased or reminiscing while getting wasted at a wake it’s interesting the amount of life that is evident at most modern day funerals. Growing up in a cultish christian background it has been a challenge to become unaccustomed to gatherings where fire and brimstone are the unwelcome friends of the disbelievers. I remember being young attending funerals of past ministers where their dying wish was to make their pagan relatives feel frightened of the afterlife, being alone with satan while their family and friends partied it up with Jesus and his disciples. Of course, I have recently been acquainted with some delightful ‘Jesus Freaks’ who have assured me that the funerals they have attended have been quite different displaying Gods love and in fact celebration of his children's life. Death is such a tricky and unwanted subject of conversation, the dark figure sitting alone unwelcome, alone, associated with all that is filthy, painful and unwanted that awkward cousin who no one wants to acknowledge with but will forever be aware of its presence. Even at an early age curiosity arises when asking “where did I come from” whether it be the cabbage patch, the stalk or that beautiful package daddy won on the pokies, it seems that “where will i go” is much more of an awkward topic to explain to children. My aunt often tells her children they have gone on a long holiday (an explanation which I believe is rather universal),i know that when i was a tot holidays ended far too quickly so what then do children of this generation conclude in regards to the ‘holiday theory’? Are we as a nation ignoring death as a defense mechanism, so we are able to feel comfortable merely with our existence? At my funeral, i hope no one wears black, i wish for nothing but hard rock to be played and to perhaps be buried in cereal boxes. May everyone get drunk at my wake and reminisce about the good ole days with miss leff. Vive Mort!

Blogs, Cherrys and David Sedaris

While you were engulfed in flames, I sat alone listening to Portishead thinking of kites and gravity. Then I thought of hospitality under the influence and realised I like you. I like the way I can lick the bowl and not peer over my shoulder in fear of judgement. I can stick plastic eyes on peanuts and you'll still love me... my company will forever remain like crack to you. Then I heard his voice and I knew all these feelings were nothing but fallacy. Mistakes hidden by a spell check not yet turned on. Lyrics so perfect, so completely satisfactory my adolescent mind could not comprehend. I was then reminded myspace love would never again be the same.

I revamped my profile as a sign of a new beginning, a new me.

There's only so much photoshop can do..