To the women who undercut themselves constantly (pretending for a minute that I am not a woman who also undercuts herself constantly)

Hey there friends,

You’re driving me nuts here, you beautiful tropical fish. Don’t you know how amazing you are? How strong, how glorious, how great? I can see it from many miles away, how are you having trouble clocking this from up close?

Have you even met you? Don’t you even know?

You’re being just so great at caring about important things, at posting solid content on the interwebs, at sharing sassy awesome selfies to show off fantastic haircuts and bold lipstick choices, at making really good work lunches (even if sometimes you forget them and have to get sweet potato fries instead), at standing up for your co-workers in meetings, at offering solidarity for the shitty experiences of strangers. The awesomeness and the empathy is real.

You’d be there to lift up a friend; to talk them out of feeling glum or insignificant or incapable, but here you are, not believing in yourself; undercutting or diminishing your awesome work or your greatest self or a thing you did once. Not always, not every woman, not even only women. But stop it though. You did good, you’re important, we like you, we see you. We celebrate you.

Less invisible labour. Less quiet achievement. More boasting. More cheer squads.

Set an example, and then stand back and watch it catch fire (the good fire; the best fire).

You’re the best and I love you.


To daylight savings jetlag, which is a thing.

I guess I might be feeling a little precious because I just had a great weekend away, and Home Town is falling short in comparison to the Big City Lights I was lucky enough to visit, but fuck that daylight savings jetlag, ok.

We’re one week into daylight savings time here in NSW, which means early starts are back in the dark, and you get home and yeah sure maybe a chance to sit and think deeply on the back deck doesn’t completely suck, but I tell you what, popping over the border to a non-subscriber to AEDT and back again completely ruins Christmas.

On the way: already excited for a holiday, tunes playing, good company, intermittent excellent chats – sure, an extra hour, hit me with it.

Upon returning: goodbyes and melancholy, threat of rain, ran over a lizard (not vegan), impending Workday and other realities, now they want my hour back?!

I am bereft of time. I am lacking in the 60 minutes I had counted upon for a cup of tea and a good book. I was not adequately prepared for this.

This morning it was 6.30am far too early for my liking. I got a taste of the good life, where 6.30am waited an extra hour before nudging me awake. It was so nice, you guys.

Everything is difficult and no-one told me life was going to be this way.