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My last memory from the night is sitting alone on the lounge room floor, slumped against the couch with my huge wine glass nearly empty, passionately singing Space Oddity to myself. I must have fallen asleep with a smile on my face, and I definitely woke up with one, despite the fuzzy brain and the nagging dehydration headache. One friend took me antiquing with him on the Saturday to help find the perfect table for his next sculpture project.

The support acts were great too. I took an especial fancy to Leure; man, that woman sure knows how to make a tune. The attitude was so nice, so different to what I remember this town being like. Maybe it was the circles I ran in back then, maybe it was my own perception of people and art and music at the time that made things appear distorted, cold, boring, desperate…but those two days out and about being with Perthians in their own environments made me long to live here again, and do it better this time, and I got this sense that I would not feel absolutely trapped and frustrated like I used to, which is rather enticing.

Some of my family members and a few of my friends have asked me to move back to Perth, or have straight out told me to. My brother wants a hairdresser.

My friend wants his friend back. Another friend wants a lover. My mum wants her daughter. My cousin wants a baby sitter. My grandma wants her whole family together. I think I want to study film. I think I want to stop working at the bar. I think want a pet. Perth, your inhabitants are fucking beautiful and I thank you for that.

I have my introverted moments, but I definitely need good people around me to function normally, and so many of them are here. But there are good people all over the world. Okay, fine, I get that. But, BUT, I also believe it is possible to make sure this system works differently, by letting big business bosses know that they DO have to do that research, and that responsibility lies with the individual.

Read more than 1 source of information. Read more than 5 ideally. Take advantage of rebates and switch to more energy efficient power- solar for your house and gas for your car for example. Find ways of combining energy saving methods to cut down your overall use of power, which also means cutting down your power bill if you need to use money as a motivation for this shit, then so be it.

Encourage local community groups and businesses to do the same. Enforce some sort of local petition for more environmentally friendly services, maybe start a local fund for alternative energy conversion.

Buy fresh food items including meat from as close to the source as you can. Grow your own fruit, vegetables and herbs. Plant fruit trees in public spaces. Tell the kinds to eat the fruit on the way home from school instead of buying a chocolate bar. Remember what real food looks like, not the advertised images of food you see in Coles catalogues.

For generations now, we have lived amongst an economic system based on creating a profit from fulfilling the needs of the population.

And here we are. We buy them, they become part of our routines, become ingrained in our understanding of the world, and the world adapts to the new products. Cleaning products, frozen food, work out equipment, iPhones, pre-sliced bread, sound activated lights, all the inventions that change the way we live- for good and bad, are all there to create a profit for someone. Try convincing people not to use hair styling products.

No one likes a bad hair day. Our world is designed to run on consumerism, profit and debt, money made from appealing to human desires. It is definitely not designed to run on environmental sustainability. Most of us will look back and think: I have far more evolved systems in place to find a mate.

Most of the things on the shelves available for us to purchase as completely unnecessary, and are an utter waste of resources of all kinds. We know about corruption, we know about lies, we know about rigging, we know about hushed up secrets, we know that shit is going on. And we have the power to demand transparency from the people we give our money to, if they really want to keep getting our money.

If changes are to be made, we have to suffer through the change over process. If there is a goal, it is easier to ignore distractions. If every Australian was given an unbiased update on environmental issues and technology advancements concerning alternative energy sources, all of the political debate about carbon taxing could be ignored.

Tony Abbot would be laughed out of Canberra, and Julia Gillard would be applauded for taking the first step into a new era of human development: The future of our planet and our big, beautiful country. Objectification occurs when a human looks at another human and has no recognition of their sentience, and instead only sees a thing with which to have sex.

Ever since empowerment became an acceptable thing for women to have, men have had their place as the supreme dominant animal challenged, with us ladies fighting for equality in most aspects of life and society, and with that has come an increased sense of power over our situations, increased confidence, and brighter, more fulfilling futures for ourselves and our daughters. But the difference between women objectifying men and men objectifying women is fucking huge, simply because men still tend to have physical and socially constructed psychological power over us.

Sometimes when I walk down the street, I will see a good looking dude, and have a little look. Any time I see a boy who looks good, I look at the boy, we pass, and I keep walking, maybe smiling to myself if he smiled back. That never happens in real life. It would be cool, sure, but I would never try to make it happen. I know some of the dudes reading this maybe most?

Picture me walking down the street again. Or walking alone at night- I think every woman can relate to having their heart nearly explode from their chest thanks to the anxiety we feel because someone could easily jump out of an alley way, physically overpower us and then rape us simply because we have a vagina.

Most men will not suffer these kinds of fears, because the chances of that happening to them at the hands of a woman are fairly fucking slim. I believe that these situations are what objectification really means, and the instances of men experiencing this true objectification are few. It does happen, I realise that much, but not nearly as much as it happens to women.

Putting rape and other abuses aside for a moment- as I said earlier, women do enjoy looking at a good-looking man. I personally find myself idly staring at skinny boys with tight jeans and long hair for longer than I would idly stare at other men. Getting to know people is pretty good sometimes.

Women have been conditioned for generations to look and act a certain way to attract the man they want, while men have been conditioned for generations to do and take whatever they want. The vast majority of men on this planet will never experience the level of hard core sexual objectification that most women experience. When I was in primary school, I was convinced that I would become a famous actress when I grew up, admired like Nicole Kidman was in the ninetees, or maybe I wanted to be like Claire Danes because her job required her to kiss Leonardo DiCaprio.

I loved that guy so much. So there I was, child Tahlia, performing her cute little heart out. I did drama throughout highschool, was part of my local theatre group, did singing lessons, had excellent rhythm- I would have been a pretty rad triple threat. Theatre is a funny thing. If you were not into it, it would probably never occur to you to start paying attention. A lot of those have been used for live music too.

I was absorbed in the story of the American Marine who bails out of his duties in World War 2 and ends up falling in love with a girl from Sydney. My friend was playing the role of an American military police officer, and the excitement I felt when he came on stage was matched only once in my music-watching career, when I stood from the side of my stage with my camera as Tame Impala walked out to a huge, screaming crowd at one of the festivals in WA a few years ago.

I was so happy! My date for the evening and I discussed it after the show, and decided we simply MUST get ourselves to a theatre performance every week. Luckily another friend of mine has been working on the direction of a play for the last few months, so I went to see it last night, again with my theatre buddy who looks A LOT like Ryan Gosling by the way. Going around the town with him always makes for hilarity, when women of all ages do double takes, or even straight out stop and stare.

It was dark, funny, intense, thought provoking. I teared up a few times, I laughed at mean jokes about Tracy Emmin just being a slut… I felt like I was watching a film with the most simple set design in the world, and I wanted to watch it again as soon as it was over.

Actually, I would love to shoot that film, with those actors, same director, my friend, who was apparently a very intense director and got out some STELLAR fucking performances from the evidently talented actors , same everything. I feel like everything is coming together for me in terms of the direction I want to take my creative pursuits… and I think rediscovering that I really enjoy theatre will enable me to reconnect with that younger me, the little hyped up actor that the uber-cool obscure music fan has been suppressing for so many years.

Living in the world during this time of online communication has left me feeling as if the Internet is more of a home to me than the house I spent my teenage years in. Chatting and interacting online has become a huge part of modern socialisation, and I for one unashamedly love to spend time interacting on Facebook solidifying existing relationships with ridiculous memes and hilarious gifs, or even striking up new relationships with friends of friends with ridiculous memes and hilarious gifs.

It is very rare for people to not be familiar with Internet culture and online relationships, and as such has influenced the way we relate to each other in real life. Real life interaction between regular Internet users is both comforting and confronting because we now see ourselves and other people very differently. There are ups and downs. Real life interaction Pro 1: These things are extremely important aspects of who that person really is, much more so than little actions described in asterisks.

That being said, a well-described action in asterisks can be a terrific indicator of the sharpness of their mind. A sharp mind is a good mind. Real life interaction Con 1: And sometimes the conversation really calls for it. Only on the internet. God I love the internet. And they can touch you. A human who never touches another human would be a sad human indeed. If you woke up and left the house without showering, brushing your teeth, doing your hair, putting on make up etc, people are going to know, and people are probably going to judge you badly for it.

It is possible to bond through physical activities with your fellow human. The Internet is better for arguments. Real life arguments should be avoided at all cost. I assume that other women enjoy talking about boobs as much as I do. Sore boobs, perky boobs, bit of a sag to the boob, what happens to them when we run, the reaction we received when we take off our shirts in front of that special someone and showed them that nice thing they were wondering about, or have been looking forward to seeing again.

We share stories, exchange tips on care and clothing and checking for lumps… how do men react when they hear this stuff, or getting involved with these conversations? Right now in Melbourne, it is cold. We skipped autumn and went straight into winter, which means all the cleavage in the city, or at least the cleavage belonging to sane women, has been covered pretty consistently for about two months now.

Boobs make people smile, no matter how often they see them. He expressed that he thinks women often want the opposite of what they have when it comes to breasts. Indeed, it is not uncommon for women with big boobs to want smaller boobs, and for women with small boobs to want bigger boobs. Anyhow, I think it would be very rare for any cleavage to go unappreciated by those who see it, and some people are all about that. Each to their own I suppose. I feel her pain. Not only did the woman in this article have to deal with having her breasts messed with to save her life from breast cancer, she was then treated as a terrorist for having a medical implant to help prepare for her reconstruction.

So breasts are wonderful. How can we not love talking about them when they gave us life in the first place, and will potentially give life to our progeny.

Casey Ayres and Nathan Beard have been friends of mine since the age of about 13, and they are spending time in my adopted home city this month, along with another friend, Abdul Abdullah all of whom live in Perth , because they are all working together as an artistic collaborative trio for the Next Wave festival: They give a wonderful explanation of their purpose on their website: These guys each have an Asian mother and an Australian father, and the project is in essence both an exploration and celebration of their cultural backgrounds.

Within the embassy are beautifully painted portraits of the ambassadors and the king of the Sphere Keanu Reeves , as well photographs taken by collaborators in Australia and Asia, three thrones made especially for the project, various shrines, fake letters by Ambassador Ayres to world leaders, a collection of kitsch Asian bits and pieces, plus a karaoke machine and a Nintendo Wii.

It makes me so happy to be there, and even happier to be given the task of documenting it all in still photography. When they first told me about the Greater Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere idea about 12 months ago, I was giddy with excitement, a feeling that has been building in intensity as time has gone on. So here I am, sitting on my bed writing this column, tired and sore and behind on my schedule, from my fifth day of following them around with my camera.

I have hundreds of photographs, so many of the boys in their shiny golden crowns and their golden tailored suits, sitting on their thrones or talking to people at the events, singing karaoke sober karaoke singing is far more difficult and terrifying than regular [see: And then maybe I will get a chance to check out other work in the Next Wave festival, which is seeming less and less likely as my hard drive is filled up every day with more and more images of inspiring people, situations and events… I have so much work ahead of me, not only in terms of getting all of the images ready and giving them to the sphere, but in terms of my own artistic practice.

I love it because I usually feel like I need more of it. I used to suffer regularly from sleep paralysis, and rarely do I have dreams that are anything except nightmares, unexpected sexual encounters or bizarre, unsettling re-dos of everyday situations. Sleep can become a cruel, harsh mistress. But the comfort that can be taken from unraveling a disturbing dream hardly changes the fact that the rest of the day or week feels weird because of the brutal 7 hour long slasher flick in your head that stopped you from getting the peaceful rest you were hoping for.

The mornings after these boozy self-abuses and forced forgetting sessions are generally met with an almost unquenchable thirst and an aching of the neck and back. The other huge important thing: Last night I slept on what I assume was a more expensive, superiorly designed mattress than the second hand one currently at home in my temporary bedroom. It was comfortable as fuck, my crooked spine was adequately supported, and the pillows held my neck as gently as a compassionate, unselfish lover.

I slept like a fucking baby. Sort your shit out. I was excited about this tantalizing little nugget, so decided to look into it further. Ego changing language, absolute power etc, ohmahgahd, the intrigue! There is no record of any King or Prince with a lisp, and the pronunciation of certain letters and words change from area to area.

And so should you. There is another myth I want to help sort out in the mind of westerners: I barely understand it. It makes me want to study linguistics. Or never look at an article on linguistics ever again. Language is complicated and weird and amazing.

It is the time of day, after school, that was the most convenient to meet up and get high with your buddies: I discovered a myth during my research that was brand new to my eyes: To quote the essay I found on the topic, found here: The so-called German vote did not take place in , and it had nothing to do with privileging German over English.

The legend that it did, which has gone around since at least the s, was spread initially by propagandists celebrating German contributions to American culture. It has since been taken over by those who claim that the English language in the United States is an endangered species. The story of the German Vote is occasionally trotted out by ELA supporters to demonstrate the power of ethnic groups to subvert national unity and to warn Americans that although the German threat to English has been defused, the Spanish one has not.

What have we learnt? Do your own research. This delightful house has a dog, a pretty backyard, and really pretty kitchen. I decided on lasagna. I never liked that class, and I never attempted to cook my own lasagna again. But I eat it regularly. Over the last few years it has been my go-to easy-to-heat-up pre packaged food from supermarkets. They taste so freaking good. I order it at least once a fortnight from the Italian restaurant a few doors down from my bar.

The guys who work there are so lovely, and they all enjoy cheap beer when they come into the bar after work, so we in turn enjoy cheap food, which is fucking awesome. So this recipe of mine shall have vegetables.

I hate eating onion. Add kangaroo mince high in iron! Add sliced mushrooms, chopped up capsicum, grated carrot, diced celery, a couple of diced tomatoes, a few spoons of tomato paste, and stir. Put in a big handful of spinach. Add basil and oregano to taste, maybe a tiny, tiny little bit of salt. While this is all simmering, I will pour myself a big glass of red wine, and add a splash of it into the food, stirring gently. I will roll a cigarette, smoke it, and then the simmering should be almost done.

Repeat this until the tray is full, top the last lasagna sheet with some more cheese sauce, grate cheese all over that bitch and then put foil over the top.

The sun will be well and truly set by then, and maybe the weird little dog will be around. When I was a kid I was a talker. I would prefer to observe humans than to chatter away aimlessly with them… though I generally that depends on the company.

Those who feel silence is awkward, something to be staved off. Those people are silly. There is a lot of stock to be put in not talking, and there is a lot to be said for people who can just relax and be comfortable with silence. Language is a fucking treasure, and to waste it on sounds to fill the silence, to use it without much thought or consideration, is a punch in the gut of society.

It comes from working together in this weirdly fun but more often brutal hospitality environment, serving beers to the masses with which they can drown their sorrows; we have a shared knowledge, a connected understanding, an ability to communicate with nods and eye movements and hand gestures. But that is an easy silence: Listening to music with someone else can be an intense experience.

You feel your emotional response, they feel their emotional response, and sometimes it can be awkward, and sometimes it can be beautiful. We laid there on the bed, not unlike the bed described in the song, listening in silence. Now I love that song. We need this calm quiet. Every human being needs a period of rest in this fucking noisy society we live in.

Contemporary society is loud. Stand on a busy street corner in the middle of the city and shut your eyes. Meditate on yourself, on your body, and let yourself fall into your own mind. With practice, you can shut it out the din, shut out the mindless conversations and the traffic. Some people will always have more to say than others, but if we keep it meaningful, keep it true and honest and know when not to say anything, we can all be relaxed. The sunset is fucking quiet and fucking beautiful. Today I was told that if a human touches a baby mouse, the mother will attack and eat the poor little fella.

The scent of humanity on her tiny offspring will freak her out and cause her to want to get rid of it. I find this behavior fascinating and it made me start to think about the complex nature of animals living together. The gorilla was from a zoo, and none of the other gorillas wanted anything to do with it because it had a big scar on its face. The plastic surgeons did their thing, the gorilla was released back into its enclosure, and then it was attacked, and I think it might have died.

Maybe they smelt the anesthesia. The same happens with every social animal, even humans, though our own responses to weakness in the gene pool are much softer. I am all for equality amongst human beings in a moral sense, but there is no denying that our altruistic tendencies are causing some major problems for our planet. When a member of an animal group threatens the safety of the rest, it is cast out. Pregnant meerkats will be abandoned if there is not enough food around to feed the pups.

Some animal mothers will kill their own babies for the same reason, thus ensuring the survival of the pack, waiting for more plentiful resources to become available before letting their wombs go wild, popping out many tiny versions of themselves and letting them live to be functioning members of the pack.

The human act of aborting a fetus is often done with this same instinctual survival reasoning, just as leaving deformed babies out in the wilderness was to ensure that tribes remained strong enough to survive a winter, or that the armies could fight off the Persians etc. Birds have a distinct social system in which the most powerful bird can peck and any other bird in the group without retaliation. The next one down can peck any except the top bird, and so on and so forth. Dogs have a similar system, with alpha at the top, and omega at the bottom.

Every dog follows the alpha without question, and every dog gets out pent up energy and aggression on the omega. Omega is just as necessary as alpha in this social order, because the presence of this little weakling dunce that no one likes means that there is less tension amongst the others. Our use of language probably makes it more complex, as would the sheer number of us on the planet, but it is essentially the same. Like wild horses, we have one large herd, then many sub-herds within it.

Each sub herd has the alpha mare and the stallion who dictate the movements and behaviours of their individual groups, but they will follow the movements of the main alpha mare and stallions. Divorced housewives seeking sex orgy Fort Wayne Indiana London. Happily ever after Mexico bbw. I need a new boo Studs.

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