I think a fondness for Men At Work goes with the territory growing up Australian in the 1980s. But their song Overkill took on a whole new meaning for me in my mid-thirties when I developed an anxiety illness. I suddenly seemed to become aware of how many songs are about dealing with anxiety and depression, about how prevalent these conditions are, and how much shared experiences such as this can help. Knowing you’re not the only one. Learning how to manage it has led me to feel strong in a way I never felt before.

Even though it’s sometimes scary to think the anxiety will always be there, songs like this will also be there to remind me ghosts will fade away.

Myy husband walked into the room tonight to find me learning to play Spiritwalker and commented, ‘you know your relationship is in a good place when your partner willingly chooses to play this song.’

I’ve married into a love of The Cult, not having previously known of them. And what’s not to love? A hard rock band with great songwriters, old school Northern paganism, and a lead singer with a big voice and fabulous taste in hats.

This is one of those times you record something, not sure if it’s good or ridiculous or who you’re channeling but you know it’s all yours nonetheless. This was pretty much a one-take wonder, partly because I felt too bad for my neighbours on the other side of the apartment wall, but largely as an exercise in being happy with what I can bang out. Not getting caught up with making it sound right but instead going with it feeling right.

Recorded for the Twitter...

Song 1: Blue - An early attempt of playing fingerstyle. I’m probably one of the few people who doesn’t think of Buffy the Vampire Slayer when I hear Angie Hart’s ‘Blue’. (I’ve never actually seen Buffy; TV series or movie.) I’m reminded of the early days of being in love, living in Melbourne with my new husband, listening to it together on CD. It was beguiling; it was unlike any song I’d ever heard before.

Song 2: Lights - I recorded this in the back yard of my home in the Adelaide CBD (which is surprisingly noisy with birdlife). Since moving to Adelaide, I’ve felt a sense of home I haven’t experienced since leaving my childhood hometown of Stawell, Victoria. Even though this is not an Australian song, it’s always had for me a very Adelaide feel to it, and now that I live here, it expresses perfectly the yearning I feel for the place when I travel away from it.

It’s been three months since blogjune and three months since I did any blogging, but it’s recently occurred to me that I’ve been blogging the whole time on Soundcloud. Beyond the sense of satisfaction and challenge of sharing my little recordings, I’ve rediscovered my love obligation-free writing through the blurbs I add to accompany my tracks. The other thing I’ve noticed is that I love other people’s tracks so much more when they do the same. The first thing I’ll do when any song starts to play is hit the Info button in the hope that there’s some sort of extra detail. Even if it’s just a quick note of who did the production or ‘just playing around with this concept: will redux later’ kind of message, it adds dimension. Metadata that takes something perfectly able to stand on its own already and somehow makes it even more real. There are real people, real makers behind the final product...

I don’t mean to brag but I’ve completed blogjune with eleven posts.

In all seriousness, I’ve enjoyed not blogging as much as I’ve enjoyed writing for two particular reasons. The first is that I’ve been having fun doing other things, particularly working on an embroidery in which I’m stitching out the lyrics to Queen’s ‘Princes of the Universe’ onto a length of ribbon (it’s as tedious as it sounds but I’ve made good progress). The second reason is that I’ve both made a start by posting sporadically but have avoided the 9-day wonder trap I have been known to fall into on occasions (“I have decided I am now A Blogger and will publish something everyday…oh, I missed a day; screw the whole thing”).

While I haven’t been the most active contributor, the less-is-more approach has given me the time for a lot of self-reflection. I was going to write this as a great big list^ and blog about...

I recently mentioned the question of what you call yourself as someone who plays music in my post following a songwriting workshop presented by Simon Austin and Angie Hart of Frente. That was: there is no actual point that qualifies you as a ‘musician’; what matters is that you enjoy and practise making music.

This resonated with me as someone who has always felt reluctant to call myself an artist. I put myself in the self-imposed ‘hopeless at drawing’ category way back in primary school, and I know I’m not alone in having done this. If anything, it seems most of us did this, in exactly the same way as girls slip into the you’re-not-fat-I’m-fat routine. Whether or not we really believe it, it messes with the psyche and that thinking can be a lifetime’s frustrating habit to challenge. Like handwriting (which I’m also self-conscious about), there’s something in me that will always cast...

Sometimes going to bed early – or even just at a reasonable time – feels like the best thing in the world.

I’ve been burning the candle at both ends for several weeks. Between blogjune, music practice, working on my SALA artwork and watching wind-down stuff, it’s rare that I’ve gone to bed before 12.30am of a schoolnight. I still wake up at 6am, though. And weekends are for staying up late with my husband who works nightshift, and I’ve never mastered the art of the sleep-in.

I can feel it catching up with me. Tucking my son in for bed following his bedtime story usually involves lying down next to him for a cuddle and dozing off. But each night it’s getting harder to revive the enthusiasm I felt earlier in the evening when I looked forward to having the house and computer all to myself to be productive. I love this time of night. But there are times it feels a cruelty to force myself...

This post has absolutely nothing worthy to contribute to society, except to say look proudly at your poo and see your GP if you’re ever concerned. Until such time, marvel over what you’ve created and if you’re lucky, your bowels may even grant you a story to amuse colleagues and friends. Like the time I sharted myself waiting for the bus.

I’m serious: that’s what this post is about, so now’s your chance to retreat from the browser with a disgusted shake of the head if that’s not your tub of jolly. If you’re staying around, this post is dedicated to @hrasvelgveritas who knows the power of talking and laughing about poo.

I’d like to say this story happened way back in the dusky past after a major case of gastro, but no. It was about a month ago and I was the picture of health. In fact, I’d just donated plasma the previous afternoon. Each pre-donation interview, I truthfully declare no...

My team is featuring the ‘Adventures’ themed book selection by the Little Big Book Club during this week’s Storytime sessions. We do this every five weeks as part of our rotating focus program, allowing us to promote the resources of this great not-for-profit organisation to our families and save ourselves considerable programming time and effort.

The Activity Time sheet related to When we go Walkabout - Wirruwa Yirrilikenuma-langwa was a simple treasure hunt log encouraging children to explore their senses through their environment. LBBC activity sheets seek to extend the story experience beyond the covers of the book and create a reflection-through-play opportunity. In this case, it has a nature walk in mind, but because we’re limited to 45 minutes within the Library building, we had to bring nature to the children. We served served up bowls offering an assortment of natural and...