The Greatest Hazard in Life is to Risk Nothing

I have never followed the plight of the Australian Cricket Team. I have no idea about the rules, or the teams, or any stats. All I know is a friend sent me a glitchy video days ago; I had no idea I would see a Phil Hughes struck by a ball to the base of his head. With trauma like that – at terribly fast speeds – my heart ached at the idea that the prognostic indicators were not good.

Now that he has passed, it’s disheartening to know that people still seek out that video. In death, only one’s accomplishments should be sought out and appreciated. I don’t know much about him; but from the outside it seemed that he was a young man living out his dream of playing cricket. That is probably more that can be said about plenty of people still on this earth. He did what he loved, he was mighty good at it and he was always amongst friends and family.

Besides people saying “it was probably his time” (a rant for another time), what enrages me most is a disgraceful comment I heard on the radio about people being even more heartbroken that it happened in a sport like this. Does it make it any less heartbreaking that young man Alex McKinnon sustained a horrific upper spinal injury, simply because he played rugby? It would be ridiculous to think that the possibility of injury/fatality in a sport should dictate the level of sympathy we give to the injured. Because in theory, the fault is then placed on the athlete for ‘choosing’ the sport in the first place.

Let’s be clear: The increased potential of fatal risk shouldn’t stop a Judo wrestler from grappling if Judo is a sport that he/she loves. In the same token, the spectator shouldn’t be any less sympathetic in the event of injury.


Regardless, Sean Abbott is in my thoughts. This was a sad accident, one he should never carry the burden of. I hope he feels that supporters will always be there to share the load if need be.

RIP Phillip Hughes.




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.


I'm a speech-language pathologist that doesn't write about my job. Perhaps most importantly, my favourite type of men is ramen.