I’d say it’s what separates us, not from the beasts, but the bestial. Creating the future, renewing a learned past - these are reasons to strive. Writing for and with love, taking and framing an image, stretching new melodic skins onto old skeletons of song… it’s how we manage to fly. It’s how we stay you and me, not us and them.
Unlike Osk, who seemed to establish his own tactical task force wherever we lived, scooping up neighbourhood feline troublemakers as sidekicks (including the memorable ginger behemoth Watson, with whom he used to scope the street from the safety of the shed roof), Jelly has the intelligence gathering skills of a sponge cake.
Anyway, somewhere in between my 'and then you should've done this' and 'why didn't you say x and y, rather than z', and 'for the love of monkeys and the general public's eyesight, you didn't honestly wear that heinous shirt did you', something he was saying about the dating extravaganza we were picking to pieces finally penetrated my cloud of self-congratulatory cumulo-waffle.
"Most people don't talk about how dates are progressing as a tender process, do they?" he asked.
"What?"
"She said I was 'part way through the tender process' and that she was judging me on my submission. I'd like to think there was irony involved, and I think at the time I may have given an admittedly weak "haha, yesssss, quite". Looking back, I'd have to conclude, computer says no on the presence of Fabulon or other aids to achieving crisply pressed linen."
Depression likes solitude, and peace, and quiet. This is the second reason it beckons to you, like a siren song. Because it's easy. It's so easy. All you see, hear, feel is a lack of glaring light, noise, touch; a big, blank hole, with a pouring darkness in it, sucking you in. Far less trouble than making conversation, than ensuring others are feeling okay, than going out, than cooking, than showering, than turning lights on in a room.
If the Devil is a woman, as several high-up members of organised religion seem to believe, then I don't blame her for being a bit of a naughty boots. If she's faced this pile of poo, then by crikey, she's bound to feel like taking it out on a few billion idiots who decide to sell their souls for a shekel or two. I say 'go for it, ducks - let them have it with both Beelzebarrels'.
““As usual, there is a great woman behind every idiot.” ”
I read John Birmingham's Blunt Instrument column this morning as I always do, and I have to say I was yelling 'yay', not just in my head but out loud. Sometimes Mr Birmingham and I do not necessarily agree (and I am sure Mr Birmingham would not care less, nor should he) but this week we are definitely in tandem.
There are some total, for want of a better word (or to put it more honestly, a word which I will not use in semi-polite company), cretins out there at the moment in the public eye masquerading as men. You and I know who they are. Radio journalists. British multi-millionaires with a penchant for 'lovers tiffs'. Commentators on Sunday ABC programs which I love(d) to watch. Complete worms who seem to think that insulting or bullying women is not only acceptable, it is something to be admired.
I cheerfully admit that in my heart I would like to use Mr Birmingham's blunt instrument on these 'gents' and see how they feel about things then, but violence isn't the answer (unfortunately), so I will stick with using my words instead.
Belittling women is the act of cowards. It's the act of those who need to make themselves feel better about their own inadequacies. They are the ones who stood on the corner of the playground as kids, never quite fitting in, who made fun of others so that they weren't beaten up themselves.
I'd feel sorry for them if they weren't so bloody horrible.
However.
This is not an anti-men rant. Far from it. Much as certain people of my acquaintance (you know who you are) may accuse me of occasionally going on a Germaine-Greerian rant, this ain't it. I absolutely consider myself a feminist. I think that women should be paid the same as men and should have the same opportunities at work and in life based on merit. Equal opportunity should be just that - EQUAL opportunity.
What I want to say is what the last week or so has shown quite clearly is the difference between the twits and the truly good men out there. And it isn't just men in the public eye, although obviously General David Morrison is a shining beacon of hope for the Australian Defence Force and for change within the workplace in general. He speaks from the heart and with passion and truth, and I applaud him. But it's everyday guys too.
Men are speaking out. They are saying 'this isn't acceptable'. Whatever their opinions of the Prime Minister personally for example, they are prepared to say that the way she has been lambasted recently is not on for the leader of our country - or for any woman. They are putting their opinions on paper, online and on the record.
I feel very, very lucky in my male friendships. The men that I know and love are the type of guys who are willing to be vocal about this. They respect women and they treat them well. So I just wanted to say two things.
Firstly, to those who think belittling women is OK - your days are numbered.
And to all those men in my life who say 'this is bullshit' to the above idiots -
Thank you.
Don't go changing.
That includes you, John Birmingham.
And your blunt instrument.
““In youth, it was a way I had,
To do my best to please.
And change, with every passing lad
To suit his theories.
But now I know the things I know
And do the things I do,
And if you do not like me so,
To hell, my love, with you””
I've been wondering about something recently. It's nothing ground-breaking - in fact it's something women all over the world discuss on a daily basis, but for some reason, it's been brought to the fore amongst the chicks that I know very strongly of late.
Why
do we have such a low opinion of ourselves when it comes to the
opposite sex? Or to put it more bluntly; if things don't work out, why
do we always assume that we are the ones who should have done more, been better looking, been funnier, been smarter, been more attentive, been less needy, been more needy - and coming back to it again - been more attractive.
I
am not going on a feminist rant here. I consider myself a feminist; I believe enormously strongly in the equality of women and men
in life, in the workplace and in the home. I do everything I can to
promote that equality. But I don't think women are better than men, just
as I don't think men are better than women. My goodness, the person I
speak to fifteen times a day on the phone is a bloke (admittedly he is
also a Panda, so perhaps that explains things - ha, sorry Panda). I
suppose what I am trying to say is that in terms of he said/she said,
that's not what this is about.
This is purely about why we, as women - smart, funny, beautiful women - continue to blame ourselves when things go pear-shaped with boys.
And we do. We just do. And quite honestly? We need to stop.
There is a girl that I know. She is one of the most giving, open-hearted, loving and tender people on the planet; male or female. She would fight to the death, not for herself, mind you, but for the people that she loves.
She is beautiful both inside and out, which is a rare combination indeed.
She went out with a total nightmare of a bloke (and he is a nightmare - I know that of which I speak) at a time when she was vulnerable and hurting and frankly, easy prey for someone to mess with her head. Which he has done extremely successfully, to the point where her self-confidence has been shattered to pieces, and I know that a corner of her heart will now always have a sliver of broken glass in it that will occasionally dig in and cause a small bleed.
And she blames herself for him not wanting her anymore.
I say this now to every amazing woman that I know - and as every woman that I know is amazing, that's a lot of women;
You
are pretty enough. You are smart. You are special, and funny, and
spectacular. You deserve to be loved and cherished and desired. If
things go wrong, yes, there is usually fault on both sides; but it is on
both sides. Don't assume it's because you are to blame.
I am not a fan of Kasey Chambers. Honestly, her voice does the whole nails down a chalkboard thing to me. But that song does resonate in a way - with one reservation; the words need to be turned inside out. The message for all the gorgeous women I know should be this.
I am pretty enough. In fact, I am stunning. Particularly first thing of
a morning, when my hair is all messy and I have a bare face. I am not too outspoken. Informed opinionated is awesome; you should thank your lucky stars that you have a girl who knows what is going on beyond who has broken up with whom in La-La Land. If I
don't make you laugh, then tough noodles - it means you have a
craptacular sense of humour. Because I am funny as a funny thing with
added funny. I don't need to try it harder. I try damned hard, every single day.
Next time a girlfriend breaks up with someone, and says 'it was all my fault - I just wasn't good enough', I am going to do three things.
Firstly, get them wildly and inappropriately drunk on really good champagne.
Secondly, make them listen to an entire Kasey Chambers album as punishment for that statement.
And thirdly - possibly a little while after the hangover, because they won't be looking too crash hot, and it would be hard to justify what I am trying to make them see - I will shove them in front of a mirror. And I will make them stare until they see the truth.
They are beautiful.
And nobody has the right to say they are not beautiful 'enough'.
