The best leader Labor never had.

I write from under a new overlord.

Those of you from Australia - you already know.

It's had a fair smattering of news overseas (with some lambasting of the concept of mid-term deposition of the leader of a party).

I introduce Malcolm Abbbbooooooottttttt

I mean Malcolm Turnbull, the best leader Labor never had. Last night, everywhere in Laborland, faces collectively went into palms. For some reason I can't quite put my finger on, I just don't particularly like Bill Shorten, and I think many echo my sentiment. Turnbull seems the obvious choice for those who can stomach neither Tony nor Bill, and hence he is electoral Kryptonite to the Labor party.

The thought is that he is a better bloke than Tone. He thinks climate change is a thing, he has been on record for saying that he agrees with gay marriage. He is eloquent, clever, charming and rocks a spenny suit like a boss. Barrister, Journo, Successful Businessman, Rhodes Scholar, Lifeguard. You could imagine him facepalming every time Tone said something dumb.

I thought that ole moneybags, with his vast wealth, he can fix the debt and fund some pensions. Later I found he was only worth a measly $180Mil.

I was cautiously hopeful. I was buoyed by his victory speech. The positive notion that these are exciting times, that we as a country can make the most of if we are agile. No stabs at the opposition (Julie took care of that though), no fear, no hate and minimal in the way of cliche.

Just reading the above, though, I am more measured about things.

There is no doubt that MT thoroughly sounded out the party and did some deals before throwing his hat in the ring. It would have been suicide otherwise, and MT has bided his time since Feb.

It was no secret that he was not liked by the Arch-Conservative arm of the Liberal party, the Abetz/Bernardi end of the spectrum. He will have had to cut deals with some of these people. This concerns me.

We wake to a new overlord, and nothing has changed. Different face, better haircut, better suit, but same stuff. Gay marriage will go to a plebiscite after the next election. A grovelling tribute to the Coalition's direct action on climate change.

I know he has to bide his time, but I am not convinced.

He has presided over evisceration of the ABC and a shitty substandard NBN. Will that change? Will 100,000 solar panels pop up toot sweet? Will just get on and allow my gay friends to marry? Will he oversee the selling of our Land/Mines etc to China? Can he 'splain to us just why the economy is so bad, and what he and his merry men (and hopefully more women) will do to save it while minimising pain to the most vulnerable?

[I still have not gotten over Joe and Tone's plan to extend the wait period for the dole to 6 months. Will people have lived on love alone, or will they have beaten us up and stolen our tellies for food? No amount of 'splaining would make that good. Dickheads.]

Why do we even think he is so special for believing in climate change and gay marriage? Supporting these things does not make you special, it makes you not an arsehole. First rule.

Yes he is cleverer and a better salesman.

Yet his smile is appearing more smarmy by the second.

Will the 3 word slogan become the 300 word slogan (thankyou, Barrie Cassidy)

This meme summed it up well

A polished turd is still a turd, and this won't change my vote.

Malcolm Turnbull, I hope you prove me wrong, you silver fox you.

Your thoughts? Happy to hear considered and respectful views from the other side of the fence :D

On saying no, and its consequences.

Last week was a bit of a stressful week at work. Last Friday arvo, I was asked to do something that made me upset, and I cracked it a bit. I immediately set some boundaries, by group email. Nowadays I try not to make calls while acutely upset but sod it, I'd had enough.

The people it affected were gracious and contrite, and things have changed. This is good.

The first half of the year was so frenetic that I had promised myself that, once the PhD was finished, I would try not to work full time, to have some sessions free.

However, the frenetic pace went on, without me even realising it. One of my employers kept on asking me again and again to act at their bidding. The nocturnal tooth grinding continued. I was starting to dread the weekends, as I had to do work that I missed out on during the week. It took this blog post to get me thinking about my work-life balance, and finally I put it into action last Friday.

It bought up a couple of things:

I didn't know what to do with my spare time. 

There is so much emphasis on being productive and not wasting a moment that we forget that we don't actually have to schedule every minute. We wear busy like a badge of honour, but for what?

I have been thinking about some restorative things I could do. Not exercise; I do enough of that. Reading a book? Drawing a picture? Playing with the dog? God forbid, watching some telly - Series 3 of House of Cards is begging to be binge-watched.

There are things like the dentist, the tax agent, going to the bank.

Calling a friend. I had become more and more intolerant of talking on the phone, preferring to text. I have friends that need chatting with at the moment, so I have done this. 

But people might get angry if I say no.

It might have consequences, and I had to be ready to accept them.

Perhaps I was more angry with myself. That I "should" be up to working full time, plus the weekends. My kind of workplace appears to reward that type of work.

I find saying no stressful, such that I will say yes and do what I am asked as the stress of saying no is greater than the time expended doing the task. I am afraid of being passed over the next time an opportunity comes up, or worse, of appearing like (gasp) a cow.

I am finding that a. people are gonna bitch no matter what I do and b. worthy opportunities will still be available even if you occasionally be assertive.

I have read about the art of saying no for women. It said something about women always having to explain themselves and apologise, where men just say their piece and that is it. Hence I have been recently in the practice of saying no, and taking care not to apologise for standing your ground. I am practicing that too.

I am flexing my "no" muscle. It is scary but it feels good.

On family.

I've been thinking about this on and off for a while.

from awkwardfamilyphotos.com

I have always envied people who got along well with their families. As well as loving their family members, they genuinely like them, and would hang out with them for preference. Sometimes I have aspired to be like that with my family, but it has fallen flat in the past and I end up feeling that painful mix of resentment and guilt.

On the other side of the coin, I think it is a terrible shame when there are such deep rifts within families that they no longer speak to or see each other.

My family is somewhere in between. The honest truth is confronting, but it is as such:

We have so little in common, apart from shared origins. We are vastly different in personality. Were there no shared origins, no interaction would ever get past the first contact.

There have been many times in recent years where I have bemoaned the lack of understanding within the family. I am sure my other family members have bemoaned the same thing about me. It all arises from the fact that we are essentially different despite the fact we are family.

Unfortunately, though, you don't get a choice about your family. In my humble opinion, at the end of the day, there is only one thing you have to do, and that is be there when they really need you. Of course you love them, but what is love without action?

Beyond this, I keep interactions pleasant and reasonably frequent, but brief and superficial. I listen, smile, nod and make the appropriate sounds, without offering much in the way of advice. I offer practical help.

I've stopped trying to rationalise or understand how they do things. I don't like being told what to do, and apply that rationale to them. I offer gentle but firm explanations of my boundaries when that comes up.

It might sound a bit cold, but it makes for peace and calm, and ultimately a more functional relationship.

What about you?

I'm still here....

Oh hai.

I have been here, I have been fine, I have been kicking around instagram, but I have not gotten the head of steam to blog. My thoughts have not been able to form themselves into a coherent post. Today, since it's been so long since I've blogged, it's gonna be a bit of a mish mash.

I have handed in my PhD. Many people say "Oh, you must be relieved". Relieved isn't really the word. It is but one part of the research journey.

When I was pregnant, my thoughts were often directed to my future with baby. After the miscarriage, I ploughed a lot of energy into getting the PhD done, then finding something for myself to do in lieu. Friends, I am in the process of being appointed a postdoctoral fellow, part time.

Is this trying to sublimate/cover up my feelings re the m/c? Probably. But I cope with things by changing tack quickly. We fall down, we get up, and we run in a slightly different direction.

The research is hard work. I am already in the process of applying for outside funding, plus getting data together for papers, plus putting abstracts in for conferences. It pays far less than what I can earn. Yet it is something I enjoy, it's a self-actualisation thing. It plays to my nerdier and occasionally misanthropic tendencies (yes I have both).

And, if not now, then when? Gotta take advantage of the opportunities as they arise, am I right?

I am in dire need of another holiday, yes I know it wasn't long ago I was in Spain but that was partly work and when you work over weekends, the need for a holiday comes very quickly.

To this end, we are off to Penang in Oct.

This is a pic of Batu Ferringhi beach. Looks rather idyllic, but apparently absolutely teeming with jellyfish. Might just stick to the pool.

A hundred things to do in Penang, and, from my Malaysian friends, at least 93 of these things involve food. The rest involve hanging out by the pool or other body of water...very much looking forward to going.

Then a conference in Istanbul in November. Better get my finger out and write that paper. Boss has to let me go there if I have a paper in....

~~~~~~~~~~
You know that whole thing about summer bodies being made in winter, well, since the PhD has been handed in, I have been giving that a bit more thought, because, you know, bikini and Penang. Hence I have been training like a demon at crossfit.

Yes I know the bad rap that crossfit gets, I know all the crossfit jokes ("If you are a vegan and a crossfitter, which do you talk about first?" etc).

But bloody ell I love it. I have been doing it of a morning and I just feel like a boss (pronounced baaaawwwwwwwssssss) all day. My pull ups are coming along, I am starting to get more confident with jumping on boxes, and I delight in telling my skinny friends that I would be able to deadlift them (last week I did a 60kg x 7 rep). Next, double unders and world domination.

I love that, without any particular running training, I can go out and run fairly comfortably whenever I like. I went for a little trot round the 'tan with my friend this morning, and it was magnificent. Melbourne has got the memo about it being spring soon and is starting to flirt a little. It has been a long, cold winter and errrrybody looked so happy to be out and about.

I cannot help but admire my new guns when I shower. Oh yes I do.

And they play punk rock or thrash metal while you work out, and that gets me in the mood big time.

My burpees are coming along.


I am feeling very confident in my skin, that is probably the best thing.

I have decided that it is also time to stop the snacking while writing. Hence I am drinking lots of herbal tea....

On the hippie vein, I am also doing yoga, to stretch out those enlarging muscles. I always start out like "na can't be arsed with this, too hippy" and finish out like "I feel marvellous". I never thought I'd see the day.


Anyway I can sense some eyes starting to glaze over at this point.

Being the beginning of spring, I am considering doing a wardrobe cull next weekend. If I don't feel fab in it, out it goes. I have stopped asking people how I look in things, because if I don't feel all "bam" in it, I won't wear it. 'Cept for tracky daks, which I am proudly rocking now.

I need to curate a good work/conference/doing talks wardrobe - "sharp and clever with a bit of quirk" is the look I am going for. Anyone got any ideas?

PS - After I wrote my little outburst re Puffer Jackets I found one at Witchery and luffed it sick so I bought it and I still luff it sick.

RIP, my namesake.

When I introduce myself, it goes a little something like this:

Me: "Hello, I am Cilla"

Them: "Oh Hi Celia".

Me: "No, Cilla. C-I-L-L-A"

Them: "Is that short for Priscilla?"

Me: "No, Cilla is the name on my birth certificate".

Them: "What nationality is that?"

Me: "British. As in Cilla Black, the singer. That's who I was named after."

(their response will depend on how old they are, if they are 45 or over, no further explanation is required)

I was very sad to hear that my namesake, Cilla Black, had passed away at age 72. That is not very old, and I had no idea she was ill.

She was very much loved in the UK, for her bubbly personality, common touch, big heart and bigger voice. I don't have the big voice (cept for maybe in my car) but the other things I can aspire to.

RIP Cilla Black.

.....................

Oh yeah, I have submitted my thesis.

Keen for other pursuits, I baked a Lemon Meringue pie, made with the surfeit of lemons we have

Celebratory dinner at a nice restaurant tomorrow, and off to the Dandenongs on the weekend.

That'll be all for tonight.

Q and A will be good tonight - no politicians so should be a good 'un.

Sleeveless Puffer Jackets.

It's been a while.

Only a short time till the extended festival of PhD completion can start (with any luck, tomorrow evening, I can submit electronically). I will keep you posted regarding festival activities.

It's freaking chilly in Melbourne, like the coldest July in 20 years or something. I would like to say that I have neglected to wax my eyebrows in order to keep my face warm, but it is just laziness.

Everywhere, everywhere, I see sleeveless puffer jackets. They are on trend (or "on point" or "on fleek", to use the vernacular).

Ok I enjoy a trend as much as the next person, but I just can't do this.

Firstly, I feel that my arms are as deserving of warmth as my trunk.

Secondly, I don't need the puffiness. I need smart tailoring or flowy layers.

They are impractical for exercise, as I get hot very quickly.

Unflattering and impractical.

Can somebody please explain the whole sleeveless puffer thing to me? Thx.

The Idiot Box.

It sounds like a cliche, but this time, crunch time, is like the end of a marathon. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel but I am hurting like fuck. My mind is up to the numerous challenges I have (new work, PhD completion, grant writing etc) but during these times of stress, my body shows it.

I get an awful crick in my neck and back from sleeping like a tense mummy, some headaches, and a stress rash on my feet (it's called pompholyx and it's an actual thing). My feet aren't as bad as the pic, but you get the idea.

It's important for me to give myself some physical challenges during these mentally challenging times. Actually most of the physical challenges are mental challenges as well, and it is super rewarding to face them.

I'm talking about de crossfit, people.

Lots of the exercises we do in the sessions are actually variations on things we should have been good at as kids, but I had my head in a book. Things like handstands, pull ups, jumps.

I am super proud to say I am mastering the pull up, and needing less and less support from the elastic bands. I can do a deep squat like a champion without putting strain on my knees or back, and with increasing amounts of weight on the barbell.

I would love to be able to do a handstand, but this is a little way off.

One thing that scares the bejeezus out of me is the box jump. That is jumping onto a 20 inch box, or, right now, for me, it is 3x25kg weight plates stacked up, at a height of about 10 inches.

I don't yet have the appropriate power to weight ratio to get up to 20 inches, and I am working on that by gradually increasing the height of the platform.

The much more difficult thing is the head thing. I am so scared of falling over, of hurting myself (even typing that makes that fear less powerful). The head thing is what limits me most in terms of my physical prowess.

I came across this article on the webs. I am inspired. I will imagine my footsies steadfastly atop the platform. In order to stave off the ravages of ageing, we need to (safely) move more like a child.

In terms of the other idiot box, I am loving Masterchef. Marco is back and I don't like him, but I still enjoy the show.

Do you take yourself out of your physical and mental comfort zone?
What thing do you wish you could do? Splits? Handstand? Pirouette?