Why I'm not excited about Christmas

Last week I was Scrooge McDuck (the evil one from the early cartoons, not the endearing rich uncle he was re-drawn as later) and this week I'm going to be the Grinch. I'm not excited for Christmas. I don't give a toss about tinsel, I'm not excited for Santa, and I didn't watch the pageant.

How The Grinch Stole Christmas - 2000



To be fair, I wasn't always like this. Even though I knew Santa was a myth from about seven (my parents hid my gifts in my cupboard, but labelled them from Santa, I caught on) I used to love Christmas. Let me paint you a picture of my childhood Christmases.

Tuesday ReviewsDay: Lords of Waterdeep

Players: 2-5 (I found it best with 3)

Playtime on the box: 60minutes

Actual playtime: 90minutes +



Lords of Waterdeep was released by Wizards of the Coast in 2012. It is based in the Dungeons and Dragons universe but you won't need any background knowledge to enjoy the game.

Reading the rulebook makes Lords of Waterdeep seem like an overcomplicated nightmare but after the first round of game play it feels ridiculously simple. After playing four games I find myself daydreaming and plotting how I can win the game next time. It's an "hours to learn, lifetime to master" kind of game and the number of people you're playing against alters game play dramatically.

"Literally I can't" has me figuratively fuming

It took a lot of editing and a lot of deep breathing to make this blog into something other than a sweary rant fest. A lot of repetitive news articles and petitions will jump up and down and tell you this song is misogynistic and offensive. But they don't tell you why.


For starters, the song is ear bleedingly bad. There has actually been research done into the complexity of music, and how catchy it is. There is also some very unscientific and damning research into SAT scores and music preferences. Your brain actually gets a kick out of decoding music, picking out the rhythm and finding the patterns. I listened to this song once and I can't get the damn thing out of my head. It's terrible. It's repetitive. It's a cheap thrill to the brain because it takes minimum effort to find the pattern.

A week ago 9% died

This time last week I was swarmed with emails about Melbourne Cup day. Did I want in on the sweep? Tickets for the sweep are selling fast! We're almost sold out! We've opened up another sweep! Race in an hour, would you like to buy a ticket?

I sent one reply naming myself a morally objecting boring person. But since I was on a generic mailing list, I kept getting them. Thankfully the person behind the emails was polite enough not to ask me in person whilst asking everyone around me. I respect that, and personally I wouldn't have bothered to unpack a mailing list and remove one name every time I sent out and update.

Why you NEED to love what you do (it's in the maths)

I spend a minimum of 8hours a day at work. (40 hours per week)
I travel roughly 2 hours each day. (10 hours per week)
I spend between 30-60minutes getting ready each morning, this includes my breakfast and everything with feathers or fur (lets say 4 hours per week)

That puts us at 54 hours.  (32%)

I also sleep for at least 7.5 hours each night. (52.5 hours per week)

I like food, it keeps me alive and takes up anywhere from 30-90 minutes for cooking and eating dinners. Plus another 45 minutes for breakfast, lunch and snacks since they're generally simpler meals. (7 hours worth of dinners. 1.5hours worth of breakfast/lunch/snacks not counting weekdays - I've already counted breakfast time above, and lunch is had at work)

Now we're up to 115 hours on working and surviving. (68%)

Coping in the now

Suicide is said to affect everyone differently. I discovered that I am very much an 'in the now' kind of person. I am devastated by the loss of my father, of his friendship and support. However in the now there is absolutely nothing I can do about it, and this has had a huge effect on my grieving process.

In the first week I was a mess. I clung pretty desperately to my partner, who did a brilliant job of preventing me from stopping and facing things. I hiked, I played board games, I snuggled my partner and my cat, and I suffered a pretty serious case of verbal diarrhea. I also broke down crying any time I stopped. Sometimes it was desperate gut-wrenching tears that made it impossible to breathe. Other times I would just sit with tears running down my face staring into the distance.

After seven days I went out and interacted with friends. My derby team gave me a care package, a bottle of booze and more hugs than I could have believed. After a ten days I went back to work. I had only told one co-worker, and I got to spend a day pretending nothing was wrong with the world.

Bereavement, Befuddlement and Bafflement Pt2

This post tackles the topic I intended to cover last week regarding coping with the suicide of my father.

Something I didn't expect from my fathers suicide was how it would make me view the people around me. Before my father took his own life, I always assumed that the people who were close to me would be there for me. That everyone would grow old before they died. That the desire to live usurped everything else. Now I'm not so sure. Now I'm constantly concerned.



I used to expect that people would be there when I woke up or came home. Not just expect it, but I knew without a doubt that people would always be there. Doing regular boring everyday people things. In the mornings you expect to wake up to people in bathrobes, making hot drinks and toast. After work you expect people to be cooking, cleaning, lounging on the couch. Boring everyday things. Now I expect the opposite.

I used to assume suicide was more by accident than design. That desperation made you act, but that undeniable will to live kept you from doing it properly. That the knowledge that while you're alive things can still get better would intrude just in time. I assumed those who commit suicide had succeeded by mistake. A lot of the methods are fallible and (it seemed to me) a lot of people act rashly, without plan or design.

My father did not commit suicide accidentally.

Bereavement, Befuddlement and Bafflement

This is a pretty dark theme for an opening blog, but it is also something that I really need to get off my chest. I'm sure a million successful endeavours have started this way, and a billion more unsuccessful endeavours started with a rant and were left in the dust.

I had someone close to me pass away from suicide. Almost seven months ago, my father lost his struggle with depression.

This blog isn't an obituary or an apology for the things that should have been said. I might write one of those in the future. This is about something I didn't expect as a daughter dealing with the passing of her father.