Category Archives: Personal Development

I’m Nutelling You

Look at this. How do you feel? Good?
Great, now that we’re in a good mood, let’s get offensive. I’ll keep it short and sweet.

You guys are grand.

But this post [edit: this post has now been hidden] got quite a bit of traffic and has sent me into a exhausting salad spinner of crap. Not only with those who were mentioned… But people who have read it and disagree with my choices.

I love my contact page. It is a place where I have had invitations to write for online publications (#blessed #heymamamia), where I feel connected to people from all around the world and where people can tell me what they think – honestly and without filter – mostly due to the ability to stay anonymous.

I’ll cut right to the chase: One classy lady called me a slutbag. Setting aside my loathing of the word ‘slut’, I could delve endlessly into questions about what this actually means (A bag made of sluts? A bag containing sluts? Under-eye circles?) but really, this is the kind of chick that is the root cause of why we cannot have nice things. Can’t say I’ll own that title or even remotely agree with it, but there are certainly worse things on this earth that I could be called.

At least I don’t like fava beans…

I don’t think I’ll ever disable the anonymous contact page, simply because I’ve struck up fabulous conversations in the past with those brave enough to use it. Who said pen pals are dead?

Death Row pen pals don’t count.


I won’t lie, it was refreshing to get a view on the post that wasn’t “ERMERGERD LIL SO FUNNY I WISH I WAS YOU LEL SO LUCKY”. Because although my ego got a fabulous stroking, I felt like some completely missed the point of the post.
Let me reiterate: I felt miserable (pretty much) that entire week.

I get it; maybe I shouldn’t have posted it. But at the same time, I’m pretty proud that I was brutally honest – on and off the internet. Being honest and being a dick is – sadly – not mutually exclusive. I was downright sordid with the details and consequently caused some butthurt.

However, when the moment comes where I think about changing the way I am, or what I want to write, I simply think of the following:

“I am only resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.” Elizabeth Bennett (Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen)

But perhaps with less usage of the comma, I say this:
I’m not Nutella. It’s not my job to make everybody happy.




Why Politicians Mandate*

So. It’s Midsumma here in Melbourne and Stephen Fry got married this week. This calls for a celebration. If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m a fairly open, liberal-minded individual with a penchant for gin and tonic and German football players.

Don’t question my taste in men… Even though they may look about as coordinated as a newly birthed giraffe.

Making a post about homophobia is hardly controversial – unlike getting a neck tattoo. Apart from the two events I mentioned above, a prompt for this post was that a ol’ good friend of mine came out a year ago yesterday. This took some guts but also the loss of his family and a home due to his parents’ religious beliefs. But he’s extremely happy being true to himself and living with his partner. Although he half-heartedly jokes around when seeing happy nuclear families on the street, to him nothing beats the fact that he excels at being inherently fabulous and has double the wardrobe.

I have a few friends that say that they are religious and have gay friends but would hate for their future children to come out as being such. Unfortunately for my children they will have it far worse. I don’t care if they are straight, gay, French or accountants – they better give me grandchildren. I’d be the greatest granny on the planet and no offspring of mine will deprive me of the opportunity to embarrass them in front of their progeny.

Frick? Flask? Frank? Frock?


Now, during my year of trying to find spirituality, I’ve done a fair share of reading of holy books. Old Leviticus has a whole lot to say on the subject. Please correct me if I’m wrong, but last time I checked, he also deplored the consumption of pork, shrimp and other shellfish. He also restricted shaving your beard, cutting hair and wearing clothes made of more than one type of material.

That purple wool-blend monster had ‘sinner’ written all over him.


So to the politicians and Leviticus Ecclesiasticus Meticulous Mucus Incubus Gonococcus Society (or LEMMInGS for short – because all organised hate groups need to have a kitschy name); unless you live by ALL of these biblical practices, you cannot possibly use old bible verses as an excuse to make vicious comments about people loving each other, no matter who they may be.

In short ladies and gents, it’s much healthier for you and society to just come right out and say that bum sex irks you. I’m looking at you Putin.

~ Lil


Lil, what are you doing?

I don’t know computer, I’m thinking the same thing. It’s 1.15am, and the decision to start a blog has been made at a time when adequate amounts of sleep is probably paramount. After all, studying (cramming?) for an exam with a higher fail rate than usual is serious business, and in the least it requires some degree of wakefulness.

But I sit here wide awake, inspired by the choice that a person has made; a person, I might add, who I don’t know very well at all. Hot on the heels of an almost-stranger, I’ve taken a chance at doing something I’ve been too chicken to try – to write publicly. To summarise, a decade ago I was freakishly tall for my age, had a weird accent and I wanted to be a comedy writer/the next Julia Louis-Dreyfus. Although a career made on working with Lorne Michaels, Jerry Seinfeld and using amazingly descriptive adjectives might’ve been nice, I fell into studying anatomy and physiology, then speech pathology, then found a deeper interest in neuroscience and stroke rehabilitation. Now I’m smack-bang in the middle of a masters degree  which I love, yet still left scratching my head.

Time to get my Dumbledore on: My journey in the last year has been a quest for something greater than me, and along the way I’ve learnt about many things. One of which is that you can’t prepare for everything; some experiences in life are really scary and I wouldn’t wish them upon anybody else. The greatest test however, is how you recover and continue to perceive yourself and the world around you in a positive light. This observation is not limited to the sadness that ensues after  finding out that one-piece swimwear is not made for long humans.

The one-piece AKA wedgie dungeon

Hands down, aside from Snapchat, the greatest thing about the internet is the freedom of not having to justify myself, or my header photo. It is a break from the constant want and need to hit my cerebrum with something fresh. In that case, a blog mightn’t be the greatest description of this site, when in actual fact ‘a wheelchair for the brain’ might be slightly more apt.

So what can I offer you, the people? Honestly? Nothing more than my honesty. First off, lets be real; those Windsor Smith platform sandals are ghastly.

On the condition I don’t have to sit a supplementary exam, there will be no summer holidays for me! As I continue to embark on a journey that includes (but is not limited to) interning, researching and cheerleading. I still don’t know how I feel about the last one.