Maybe the internet hates everything. I don’t. A ramble about Star Wars, Avatar, He-Man, nostalgia, and letting people enjoy stories again.

A few weeks ago, I was asleep, and I presume I was in a deep sleep at about 2am in the morning. Suddenly, I woke up, and I sat up. Charcoal tumbled off me. It had hit me, the plotline of a novel inside a world that I had been sitting on for over a decade.

It’s still very clear in my mind, the day I walked into the Pain Clinic at Flinders. I was in my early twenties, and I immediately felt unsettled. The walls were rotting and peeling, and I felt squished and oppressed from the low ceilings and tight spaces. It was as though everything about the corridors and waiting area was designed to be as uncomfortable as some post-modernist Foucauldian institution.

I still remember the day I saw the poster to become a Host Parent hanging on the oddly placed community notice board at Aberfoyle Hub. I say oddly placed because it was near the toilets, but I suppose, I always did stop to read it - so perhaps it was correctly placed...

Today is Wednesday. Which means it's Cleaning Day in the Writer's Cottage. It is also Christmas Eve. So, I am cleaning on Christmas Eve. Which is very - normal.

Kylie reflects on the loss of her long-time cafe sanctuary, and the struggle to find her creativity again in a new space.

Visiting Culloden Battlefield became a profound spiritual moment that changed how I see the world. A story of grief, ancestry, and God’s quiet presence.

I grew up dreaming of robots and rockets. Now I’m watching humanity step into its own sci-fi story.

I don't like ranting online. Let's get that cleared up. But lately, I’ve been seeing something that really bothers me, and as someone who’s been writing fanfiction since the days of dancing to dial-up internet tones, I’ve got a few thoughts.

This may seem like something very small, and not at all worthy of commenting on, but often I think progress is the accumulation of tiny, little triumphs and not so much the great, magnificent trophy.

When I was first diagnosed with fibro my Mum took me along to a fibromyalgia meetup at Arthritis SA. I was all of nineteen, fresh off being unable to remain at university doing Creative Writing, despite trying so very hard to remain, and enjoying myself there.  

It’s true. I’m on a hilarious quest to find you. It’s hilarious, because, it’s a topic of much amusement and laughter, and you know what, that’s okay. It is actually pretty funny that I haven’t found you amongst all the fish in this ocean that apparently exist out there....

I don't know if other people with Fibromyalgia experience this particular frustration, but I thought I'd talk about it, as it's something I've noticed over the years: The frequency in which I change clothes - in a single day.

I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia in 2009. I was 19. I had dreams, hopes - honestly, I still have them, much hasn't really changed in the past 16 years in regards to my dreams of having a family of my own, but, I have grown stronger, and come to accept and love myself and that journey I would not change. Chronic pain can be crippling....

So, I want to tell you all a little story about a time when computers weren't really used for art or graphic design, and it was really strange for anyone even comprehend that they could or would be used in the magnitude that they are now.

I've been following a bit of a news story the last few days - it's the Brooke Baking Scandal, at least, that's what I've come to call it in my head. Now, I'm not on TicTok, so I don't know anything about TicTok chiefs or TicTok Bakers - but I do love Cookbooks and Baking Books. I love collecting them.

Around this time, every year, I write an email to myself and schedule it to arrive sometime in April, usually after my birthday.

These past couple of days I've really had to knuckle down and push past a fear barrier of mine. The new gym I've been attending has been a bit busier over the school holidays/Easter break, and I don't deal well with - er - people.

Thirty-Six is a bit of a daunting number, I'll be honest. It's closer to forty than I'm overly comfortable being, and that's not to say...

Once upon a time, here in Adelaide there was a place called Glenside Hospital. I can remember walking it's decrepit, depressing halls...