Alkhe.

Waiting for today’s bodyrock workout like a lovesick teenager waiting for a reply. Refresh refresh refresh!

I always assumed that at some point my vague indifference about having children and blurry, amorphous visions of my middle aged self with kids that I felt something for, would align. I just didn’t expect it to be now, and so forceful and debilitating. I never thought that I would plan children, as much as reap the consequences of the unhappy marriage of bulimia and the pill, have a crisis about what to do about it, then somehow end up on the other side with a baby.

I can’t even remember anymore, whether as a teenager I really DID think parents were merely selfish for ever having children, being that it’s satisfying a merely selfish need for creating something that’s biologically destined to love and need you. Either I don’t remember whether I thought that, or just said it because that was just another way to hate on the mainstream population and their mainstream choices and mainstream lives, jobs and voting preferences. It’s so much easier to have such strident views about the world when you haven’t yet become the mainstream adult that your teenage self would despise.

It doesn’t even feel selfish as much as urgent. It’s not that my life feels empty without a child, as much as pointless because I’m ready and waiting and there’s no baby here yet. I saw a psychologist for a while last year, and one of the throwaway lines that’s haunted me was along the lines of how will I ever cope having children, being unable to be 150% devoted to my work. Whatever it is. I’ve now thrown myself on the path of law school, which is the only thing that enables me to turn up to work at my stupid job and stop caring about being unable to move up or across or fucking anywhere.

I am shit scared of the entire legal profession and field because of the horrendous stories I’ve heard about 24 hour working days and suicide and blah blah. Just like I was scared of the public service before I ended up here and spent 3 years looking around me with a raised eyebrow going ‘Shit. You’re kidding, right?’. I am scared that I won’t cope or thrive or will be just as lost and unhappy as I am here. And I’m scared that I’ll never be able to have children because in order to tread water, let alone succeed, you can’t stop to take a breath or give birth or, whatever. And then I’ll end up having wasted my life on a shitty career that was meant to make me happy and kids that I forgot to love and .. well, I’m going to die anyway.

But really, I just want to have a baby.

starsgowaltzing-deactivated2012 asked: Thanks for hanging out with me in Melbs! I had fun. :)

Hey ! How was the rest of your trip? I’ve had the most ridiculously busy last week at work :/ 

The Instructions by Adam Levin
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

I’ve had enough. There are a couple of laugh out loud funny parts in the first 100 or so pages of The Instructions, but they’re not enough to make me feel anything but blasé about the rest of it. I’m 200 or so pages in and there’s so much to go that it’s just daunting, and the list of books I can’t wait to read is starting to glow with appeal.

I don’t know if it’s me or a case of the emperor’s new clothes. I can’t be bothered reading 1000 pages to tick a box, and I’m not so far in that I now can’t turn back. I really don’t know what I think of this book, though. It has some funny bits, and some clever bits, and there are interesting tidbits about Jewish.. things. But every character annoys me, the dialogue is convoluted and affectatious, and there is just so MUCH of it. There’s no real story, that I can discern. Certainly not enough to pull me in and make me plough through any more of it.

I don’t even dislike this book, as much as feel completely apathetic toward it. Being partway into it feels like a weight on my shoulders, and that’s not what I look for in a book. Maybe I don’t get it, though often when I “don’t get” things, it becomes obvious that I get them as much as anyone else, just don’t feel the same sense of enlightenment, humour or joy in them. I don’t know, but I’ve had enough with this arsehole of a book. 2 stars, because I think it’s probably me.


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Went out to get a coffee, came back with cowboy boots and a spinach and haloumi pie. This is how shopping should be; impromptu and fun, not weekly and in a mall.