Can I pay less rent for my house's great location? I'm only allowed to appreciate it during the day.

"Women, if you want to be safe, stay at home. Except that you are more likely to be killed at home by someone who claims they love you, so don't stay at home. Make sure you don't have a boyfriend because he's the most likely person to kill you, but don't go out without your boyfriend because you need someone to protect you. 

Don't show too much skin or laugh too loud or dance too much, but come on love give us a smile. Carry your keys and your phone at all times and make sure you run far enough to burn off all those calories but don't do it in public and for gods sake don't run in shorts, that's just asking for trouble. Public transport is dangerous, but so are taxis and walking and driving on your own and did I mention that staying at home is really risky, so don't do any of those things ok?

Men, just carry on as you were, this is not your problem ok?" - Jane Gilmore 

Security footage is going to look odd in this laundromat

*Let's just all assume that I am aware of the myriad of privilege I am about to display.*

I have too many clothes. It's a problem that's been plaguing me recently because my room has been messy because there is physically not enough space for all the clothing- and I have the biggest room in the house!
I have tried sorting through my clothes and throwing away the stuff I don't wear or that I don't like, but I love it all and I wear it all!
Not to worry though, tonight I figured out the solution. I washed everything I owned, because procrastination, amirate?  (it took more than an hours pay at the laundromat)
When it came time to dry it, I flipped off the environment and decided to tumble dry it all. Here is where my ingenious plan comes into action..

I put the dryer on the hot setting and let the clothes participate in a survival of the fittest. If you can't handle the hot setting, you don't deserve to- nor will you probably stand up to the task of- being worn by me. this is where we separate the durable from the high maintenance, the long lasting from the once-offs, the worthy from the pathetic.

I am excited to see who makes the cut, and while I want them all to survive, I know there will be casualties.

Jenna marbles can drunk apply fake eyelashes better than I can sober.

Ok, so there is something that has really bothered me for awhile, and tonight I decided to try and photograph it out.

Every guy that I ever talk to says that they think women look better without make-up on.

First of all i'd like to start by acknowledging that I will not be addressing the larger issue that is guys assuming make-up is worn by women for the visual pleasure of men. Get me started on that at a later date.

Here is this particular issue I have with the above bolded statement. It's not true! they don't think women look better with no makeup on. They think women look better with jussstt enough makeup that they can't perceive it but it makes our skin lovely and smooth. This profoundly bothers me.
Maybe later i'll talk about the unachievable beauty standards of women, and the fact that we have to make it seem effortless, but for tonight I will leave you with two pictures: The first picture shows how guys want us to look versus the apparent monstrosity that is getting dolled up. The second picture is how I actually look without makeup on. Try and tell me I am hotter in the second picture. I dare you.
And someone please appreciate how well I drew that black line on my face with liquid eyeliner.

Don't stress, my self esteem hasn't taken a massive hit from these photos, nor do I think I should feel ashamed to leave the house looking like I do in the second picture.

Facebook, eh?

My Facebook makes me look so capable. According to Facebook I am smashing life. I have a great degree, I can make beautiful dresses, and take beautiful pictures. I travel, I’m funny, I’m quirky, I have a bustling social life and I don’t need no man except my football team. I make mistakes, sure, but my mistakes have no consequences, and they serve only as inspiration for hilarious anecdotes. Even my weaknesses, such as procrastinating, are humorously and creatively documented, and after all, I get HDs in the end.

All of these things are true, but Facebook gives me the toxic ability to filter what I show the world, so they only see the best side of me. Facebook sees that I have an amazing dad and we have a great relationship, it doesn’t see how profoundly bad I felt when I didn’t heed his advice.

Facebook sees a beautiful dress I made but doesn’t see that the reason I made it was because I wanted to distract myself from the fact that I skipped class because I couldn’t handle the pressure of going when I hadn’t done my readings.

Facebook sees a beautiful picture of me that I took during free time on a saturday afternoon but doesn’t see that it was only taken because I was home alone, and I had convinced myself that nobody wanted to spend time with me. It doesn’t see the 20 minutes I spent writing and rewriting the perfect caption for it. It doesn’t see me crying because I am lonely and I hate my need for external gratification and it doesn’t see the fact that every time someone likes my picture part of me tells me that I am wonderfully talented, part of me tells me that I am a pathetic piece of shit for needing attention and part of me feels a stab of guilt, because I know that my Facebook is a facade.

I want to be the best.

I am a perfectionist. I want to be an amazing photographer and I am terrified that the excitement I feel in my potential will prove too much pressure and I will stop enjoying this passion and focus on how I am not perfect. Speaking of not perfect,these deliciously overcooked strawberry spongecake butterflies are far from perfect but I love them anyway because they are beautiful and brightly coloured.

Auntie Allison

I have a problem that has been gnawing at me since I went to a funeral in year 12. Why do we wait until people have passed away to celebrate and talk about how wonderful they are and all the things we love about them. a few months ago I wrote a tribute to Barb when she passed away. I am not sure that Barb would have realised the extent to which she had an impact on my life and so it made me wonder, why cant I write a tribute to someone who is still alive? Today I went to the Camberwell Market with Allison, it was a really wonderful day and  as I was on the train home I was thinking about how much my relationship with Alli means to me so  I thought I would write it down now rather than wait 50 years and tell people at a pulpit.
Sorry that this is such a morbid beginning, enjoy!

Allison is an amazing aunty and an amazing person.
Allison has loved me unconditionally for as long as I can remember. there are so many things that  I remember loving about visiting Alli. she had a really cool hedge hog log at her door and she had a tiger that if you squeezed it hard enough then it would growl. The day that I finally had the strength to make that tiger growl was when I knew that  I has grown up, I was about 7. I loved that tiger because I loved Richmond. Alli also really loved that tiger and it always felt like a privilege being about to hug it. It was perhaps because she was usually so open to letting me play with things of hers that  I knew that if she said I wasn't to touch it, it really meant DONT TOUCH IT! to this day there are beautiful breakable balls with a finger sized hole in them sitting at her front door that I have never ever touched them even though and perhaps because I have always wanted nothing more than to stick a finger in the hole and swing the ball around until something goes wrong.
Alli got together with Gerry when I was little enough to idolise people who let me on their shoulders and Gerry became my favourite uncle and sidekick to my equal favourite auntie. there is a whole story about how much I love Gerry but that is for another time.
the really fantastic thing about my relationship with Alli is how effortlessly it changed as I grew up. she used to take me on adventures and show me Melbourne and now I can call her and take her on adventures to the Camberwell market. She has always treated me like an adult which meant that I could always meet her her at whatever point I was at. She has never shied away for challenging me on my beliefs and because of that I know what  I believe and why I believe it. Very few 14 year olds get challenged on why they shave their legs. I remember the feeling of pride when I successfully articulated to Alli why I chose to shave my legs, even though lots of my family didn't. she said 'good!' She doesn't care if my opinions aren't the same as hers as long as they are mine and I can defend them. I really respect that about Allison.
I always feel like I can talk to Alli. I have talked to her about religion, dates, travel, study, future, personality and Family. I am sure, had I any need to, I could comfortably nut out problems with sex with Alli and it wouldnt be awkward, it wouldnt be judgy and it WOULD be an overshare. But thats ok, oversharing is a small price to pay for the ability to have an open conversation with someone.
I think feeling truly welcome is an uncommon feeling, many people don't even have it at home. With Alli and Gerry's house I know that if I were ever in a spot of bother at any time of the day or night  I could rock up on their doorstep and they would welcome me in with loving arms.
Its Allisons loving, open, sassy, smart and fun personality that has made it a privilege being her niece and I Love her lots and lots.

Its 1.32am, so there is every possibility that this writing is not eloquent, my apologises.

I finished my assignment! wanna see? http://prezi.com/0hoepsrpl0l5/?utm_campaign=share&utm_medium=copy&rc=ex0share

I think that schools are doing sex education wrong. I know this isn't a new revelation but I was thinking about a particular way that they could improve.
Surely everyone has seen mentally scarring images of STIs left to rampantly destroy peoples genitals, and most of that is thanks to the scare campaign used by teachers in schools. as much as I love watching year 9 girls crumble under the sheer horror of what could be lurking under peoples clothes I think that this is the wrong tactic to use. STIs are a legit thing, they affect a lot of people. So perhaps in schools we should be showing kids images of what STIs can look like in their infancy so that kids can learn to recognise what an actual STI is and then maybe they can get it sorted out and we can minimise the amount of people affected by these taboo terrors.
just a thought.

I was going to include scarring images but they were too gross, so instead I will put a picture of my internet history..