‘Slutty Sundaes’- ‘becoming friends with the sun.’ 

As of late, I’ve been really appreciative of the scene around me. 

I should state I live in the city, infact I could drive to the city in about 15 minutes (without Sydney traffic). 

But besides the overbearing sounds of planes, families and occasional sirens. There are so many pockets of life that I take for granted. 

We all do.

Consumed by our worlds. 

Thoughts, deadlines, concerns, debates, conversations, tantrums, fights, heartfelt apologies and many laughs guide our lives but sometimes it really helps to see what other life is occurring. 

To cleanse from this, I’ve been taking moments of solitude with my camera, soaking in the space I call home and becoming friends with the sun. 

When I was at Spring camp in Canada, last year , I facilitated a program that was created to encourage young people to be concerned about the environment whilst learning along the way. 

One of our activities was for the kids to get a picture in their eager hands (not always so eager) and in small sections in a field, they had to determine whether they could find what was in their picture on the ground. It was generally some sort of life form. 

In order to determine whether the mock council should develop on the field that the kids were looking at, we first had to determine if there was life. 

Simple enough, the kids would realise well yes there is life. Everywhere you go. Even in just a small patch of grass, there is so much to learn from that. 

It’s funny in a way because during my photography escapade I ended up standing on our outdoor table in my backyard. 

My brother saw me, walked over, and said “There are so many beautiful things to see,” with the most obvious layer of sarcasm in his tone. Mocking me he laughed and walked away. 

Besides my brothers inability to associate with anything remotely emotional, he was right. Minus the sarcasm of course. 

There ARE so many beautiful things to see. 

You just have to be willing to see them. 


‘Slutty Sundaes’ – “This has you washing only one armpit. Or shaving one leg. Always left”. 

Life has been a mix of good feelings as well as complete bare butt nakedness infront of a crowd. 

Okay not for real but metaphorically. 

TAFE has started and thus life has began to entrail the type of busy-I-can’t-hear-you-I’m-in-my-head-feel. This has you washing only one armpit. Or shaving one leg. Always left

But I’m persisting in enjoying my studies making use of the facilities and resources. 

…oh who am I kidding? 

Besides attending classes I’ve been the epitome of procrastination. 

I think denial best describes my ability to make use of the classes. But to be fair, it is only the start of week 3 tomorrow. 

All this baffle means I have done little writing in preparation for sluttysundaes. 

Therefore, I have nothing better to do than show you last week of photos I have taken. 

Lately I’ve found a great satisfaction and depth in appreciating colours of the sky. Don’t get my wrong I always do. But to the simplicity of staring out the window on the train a little longer. Or taking a moment to physically stop and notice the minuscule detail in a roof tiling. Or the way the sun dances its light on a tree. 

The colours along with the silouettes including shapes are just exciting enough to make my inner child beam with pride. 

Next step is to take more photos. And then more. You can never have too many. 





‘Slutty Sundaes’ – ‘A licence to drive…’

Yes, yes I can finally say that I now have the ability to drive. 

I can drive without anyone watching over me like a puppy so it doesn’t pee on the carpet. 

The reason for taking so long was that I didn’t believe in myself. This is what anxiety does

Something that you could be completely natural at doing, painting or playing an instrument, could be completely bulldozed by the thought of ‘You can’t do this’, repeating itself over and over. Overlapped with an array of physical features. 

Sweaty palms, racing heart, tensing of muscles, blushing, stuttering and shaking. It’s all part of it. 

It’s always really hard to describe what having anxiety is like. No one really understands you unless they have it themselves. 

I always imagine, what if ALL the people who did have anxiety just lost it over night? Imagine what the world would be capable of. 

That thought excites and saddens me melted in one. 

Debilitating is an understatement. Each persons experience is utterly different so my own experiences with anxiety won’t even be comparable to a friend or anyone else. 

Lately, I’ve been attending anxiety support groups to help talk these through. Having found a group of people that don’t judge and are completely open to listening without judgement is a safe haven. 

I urge anyone else to do the same. Look in your local area and find somewhere that holds a time for you to speak about your issues.

Even just hearing yourself speaking about your complex issues can take a load off your shoulders. 

Being in the city has its benefits due to the amount of monthly groups there are. 

I know it could be anxiety provoking even just thinking of that. But it’s very much worth it. 

Mental health is something that needs consistent work. You can’t just be fine after one visit. Nor can it disappear over night. 

Someone in the group made this comment, “Will my anxiety go away? Or will I always have this?” 

What I’ve learnt is that, we are built to have anxiety. In the sense that, in cavemen times the ‘fight or flight’ reaction was there FOR a reason. To enable us the ability to do exactly that. Fight against the threat. Or, run away from it. That’s it. 

And so in this day and age, we don’t have as much of the same threats. This allows us to actually see threats in other means that aren’t necessarily that affect our daily lives. This includes driving, public speaking, flying etc. 

Its quite fascinating when you think about it. The only real way to test this, is to confront your demons. Or as I described ‘threats‘. 

In my case, I confronted my threat by continually driving. Driving was something that I wasn’t always fearful of. But when I failed a test by driving onto the kerb. I retreated into a clam of self-pity and hid away from challenging the failed test. 

In a sense, I regret that. But I know it was for the best. 

Last year when I was in Canada, it was so easy to see the resourcefulness of a car. Freedom, independence, more time, convienience. 
I specifically remember the thought I had. “When you go back home, you will get your licence.” And I did. 

Trust yourself. Eventually I did and it got what I wanted. 

Who wants to go for a drive? 😊



‘Slutty Sundaes’ – Rekindling my relationship with my DSLR 

City view A quick break for a businessman 

Big city, big problem. This reminded me of Ms Trunchbull’s school in the movie, Matilda. 

Pink hair, don’t care. My mum is the coolest looking 70-year-old I know. 


TAFE starts tomorrow which will be interesting. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what I’m planning to do with a Dilploma in Journalism. 

I’m too much of a rebel for Journalism I think. Tending to veer off the main road of what SHOULD be done. Like swearing in posts or making an article a personal reflection. 

I’m a natural rule breaker. 

Who likes being told what to do? 

But on the other hand, I’m a people pleaser and therefore like to follow what is necessary to be done. 

Ahh, the complexities of human nature. 

Have a good week ya sluts! 



‘Slutty Sundaes’ – ‘Do we need to wait for you to finish?’

A girl I met recently made me look back and laugh at the ridiculousness of the human condition.

To set the scene, I was volunteering for a company I had chosen to go with last year to help me work at a camp. The camp is in Canada with kids who experience the outdoors in ways of community, resilience, independence, and bearing the elements of the wilderness. It was very rewarding but no easy feat.

They needed some volunteers to help interview new candidates to do the same thing I had done. By having previous volunteers who had been overseas, this gave the new candidates the opportunity to learn things they may not have entirely understood during the orientation process.

The great thing about this company is that the experiences they provide are so varied. You can choose between Canada all the way through to Vanuatu even Ghana!

On the day of the interviews we all met each other in the first room. I had arrived a little early although not the first one. There were 2 others in the room. I acknowledged them and sat down.

This girl sitting 2 seats down starts to ramble on about her trip in Poland, neither myself or the other guy were listening to. I managed to hear her say “Where did you travel to?,” I squeezed in “Canada,” before she interrupted and continued talking about the interview process. Completely ignored by what I had to say. Even though she asked me. 

I found out the guy next to me had been to Japan 4 years ago but there wasn’t much time to hear his story. We all introduced ourselves and I found out her name was L and his name was W.

Once the introduction went underway, we were instructed our duties as interviewers and the importance of our roles. All it be, a volunteer day itself. We were assured there would be a provided morning tea and coffee (or Hot Chocolate for the non-coffee drinkers).

The co-ordinator starts to delegate who will be with whom, and in my head I’m shouting “Please not with L!”.

“Okay and Ruth you’re with L on Panel C,” he said casually.

It was there that I wanted to walk out the door. I knew what this type of person was going to be. Yet I had to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Nice to meet you,” I said in a fake nice way. “Yes, you too,” she replied most unamused.

We headed to our table and had a quick look over who our candidates were.

L began to ramble on about her trip to Poland saying how hard it was but what a rewarding experience it was. I half listened as her voice really began to irritate me. Already.

L made out she was quite cool for being older than most people who volunteer because she had finished school in 2012. I laughed and one upped her confirming I had completed school in 2007.

Our first candidate arrived, it was decided I was in charge of writing on my laptop taking notes of what was said.

Not even half way through L begins to look over my shoulder, she laughs and said “are you able to keep up?,” as though I was really struggling.

I wasn’t struggling.

“I’m fine,” I said with a fake smile.

This wasn’t the last time this happened. Looking over my shoulder continued numerous times.

First by her saying “That’s not how you spell developing “, as though I was completely stupid.

Obviously I can spell. I was just typing fast but had planned to go back. This didn’t suffice for L. In fact, I am convinced it gave her pleasure.

“Do we need to wait for you to finish?,” she said in such a condescending tone she lingered the words in her mouth, in front of the interviewee.

Thankfully I kept my cool, said I was good and I took over by asking the next question.

When we had finished, she commented on how I had written the notes saying that I shouldn’t have written it from the candidates point of view.

She wasn’t even the boss.

L added “Does that mean you’re 27?,” referring back to our conversation.

“How did you even get in this volunteering opportunity? I mean to make the cut,” she said with a sense of achievement in her question.

This interaction was laughable. But I couldn’t help see what else she would say to me. I mentioned how tired I was because I had been out the night before.

“Oh, really? You were out? Well lucky you, at least you have friends,” she said in the most unenthusiastic tone fused with sarcasm. L retold her night of having tea with a friend at her house. But that was all that she had done.

The tone didn’t warrant sympathy on my behalf. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

Having this moment with a complete stranger especially having her make comments by ridiculing me in front of others made me think about humanity.

How funny are humans. We would rather not face our own insecurities therefore putting someone else down to make ourselves feel better.

Having anxiety has made me hyper aware of potential insecurities of others and not pointing them out. I see no point in saying someone did something ‘wrong’ because it’s a different way to mine. Of course it needs to be pointed out if it changes the outcome.

But if it ultimately gets the same result. Does it all really matter?

I learnt about this in my first job. Working in childcare, being with little babies was my first role.

One day, I instinctively told this 12 month old baby that his bottle was coming while I was preparing it.

This lady I worked with was in charge of the room, announcing from across the room, that talking to a child like that wouldn’t be helpful.

“He doesn’t understand what you’re saying,” she said laughing at my stupidity (?).

I researched it from my trusty friend ‘Google’ by looking for articles claiming the importance of talking to children. Even if they don’t understand the words.

Children understand the tone, body language and manner in which you speak to them. 

My interaction with L ensured I wholeheartedly never wanted to see her again considering the tension between us.

Maybe it’s my own issue of people thinking I’m stupid that bothers me.

But it did make me realise how important it is to be humble. Even to the ones who appear to treat you like you are stupid.






‘Slutty Sundaes’ – ‘Social media is a huge time sucker’

Most millennials would have a list of items they would call their death wish.

Not getting that Justin Bieber concert ticket, dropping that $50 bottle of MAC foundation Studio Fix Fluid, or having no data left for social media.

I took it to the next level, and lived two weeks without social media.

By clarifying what I mean, I had no access to Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat and Tumblr.

This is what I concluded…

Dreams are better without a phone in your hand

On Facebook, I created a dream log but it slowly died over time. The detail in my dreams have always been something that I’ve loved about my subconscious imagination. Over time they diminished to mere images here and there. One of my dreams is here

Maybe my brain was anticipating this mental break from technology and its vibrant lit screen. Before bed most nights, you could guarantee I was scrolling through the latest feed. Once I had stopped the dreams came back.

One of the dreams involved me saving 10 little kids from an absent minded terrorist who dropped one of his weapons without realising. Thus, allowing me to tackle him through a door crack by a round of bullets.

Over the two weeks, it morphed into more intense dreams, I couldn’t help but think this was correlated. Maybe if you restrict technology on your brain before bed it allows your own subconscious to take over?

Reading is good M’kay?

I was an avid book reader in my primary and high school life.

Mainly reading teenage novels about any issues they had. Perhaps seeking my own worries by reading the answers of others. I loved anything by Margaret Clark, John Marsden and the likes of Go ask Alice by Anonymous 

Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants by Anne Brashares was my take-it-back book making up for lost time replacing phone usage with a book.

I love reading. Spending less time on a phone while more time experiencing another persons world is so much more worthwhile.

Social media is a huge time sucker.

Sometimes it’s good to step back

By taking some time to step back through actually experiencing life. It makes you realise how insignificant social media is.

Having 10,000 likes on your Facebook profile doesn’t fucking matter when you’re a tiny speck in the grand scheme of things. Yet people care way too much.

Sure it’s fantastic to catch up with friends from overseas or have pointless hilarious meme filled conversations with old high school buddies. I get it. But conversing with real people and real relationships is more rewarding.

It’s been proven: Instagram is the worst culprit for mental health

Balance is the key of life.

Coming to terms with my own anxiety doing this break has been eye opening. In the sense that, I have come to realise I am addicted to social media.

Embarrassingly, I have spent hours on my phone just scrolling- looking at the lives of people I have never met. Wasting my own life in the mean time.

If my anxiety was a piece of cake, social media would be icing that covers all crevices.

BBC wrote an article which highlights the effects that social media can have on people. Particularly younger people. Emphasising on Instagram and Snapchat due to their heavy image content says a lot.

For me, I was using it as an addiction that crippled my anxiety and sent me into a cycle of feelings of guilt. Surprisingly, knowing less about people’s lives has made me feel better. But rather in the sense that, if I were to see them or speak to them, I wouldn’t have already known what they had done.

What have I learnt?

My aim right now is to live without the necessity of social media but still being able to use it wisely. I went back onto Facebook as today was the two week mark, but I was nervous. Nervous it would suck me back in. I am happy to confirm for now. I don’t even have the app on my phone.

I challenge you to go two weeks without social media. Notice the differences there are in your life whether it be positive or negative



‘You gotta be dreaming’ – What a mission!


” I had a dream that Tall Handsome Man and I were in Africa trying to illuminate terrorism and famine. I had grown to infiltrate the enemy lines. I don’t know how I got in because being a woman was considered lower in status.  Somehow the enemy accepted me into their system. As I went undercover, I was trying to free this young boy name Nicko, who was their go-to boy for everything.

At one stage they introduced me to the system where they steal money. They explained the process where they hid the money but said even their own people weren’t to be trusted. Seeing the locals faces in the area, clarified they were so scared. 

On my mission I was trying to save this boy who wanted to ride a rollercoaster because if he got a turn, it meant that he was free.

I somehow tried to smuggle him out of the terrorist group but I had no real plan.

Moments later I found myself caught in this bad situation where they were going to kill me.  Finding a phone, I was able to call Tall Handsome Man.

I told him I needed to get out quick. He had this van that had water in the back with an asian woman. Driving crazy all around the streets and  picked me up. I dunked my head into the water as I was so dusty. Tall Handsome Man drove into a nicer area.

I realised I was in South Africa although I’ve never been in real life.

As we made our way to Tall Handsome Man’s house I told him I was starving but he confirmed his mother was making us food. I then saw Blonde and Thin woman sitting at our table and I wondered what her job was. We then all moved to the lounge area with a couch that was covered with hanging rope.

I really wanted to hug Tall Handsome Man but felt a bit awkward in front of Blonde and Thin woman. Low and behold, my WHOLE family arrive to the house.

I was so embarrassed for some reason and introduced my mum to Blonde-and Thin woman and Tall Handsome Man.

I got distracted by the couch as I saw this dial that you could press and give you the right names to describe things such as “Him” “her” and “us”. There was even one for gay singles and couples.

It was so bizarre and then I found out my family only came to visit because they managed to get EXCEPTIONALLY cheap prices to get to South Africa. ”


‘Slutty Sundaes’ – ‘Or much like a baby’s bum’

There’s nothing purer than finding old files on your hard drive that were stashed away for a rainy day.

It’s not rainy and it’s ‘Slutty Sundae’.

Why not include old photos and laugh at when I had little to no idea of who I was?

…I still don’t know, really.


When your neck resembles a vagina 

Continue reading “‘Slutty Sundaes’ – ‘Or much like a baby’s bum’”


‘Slutty Sundaes’ – I know my plants look dead but they’ve just been neglected due to my social media addiction. 

The internet is a wonderous world of inviting vices. 

Social media forums such as Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Tumblr and many more – these encourage certain behaviours. 

Voyeurism, consumerism, consumption, information loading, instant gratification, comparisons and openly being available 24 hours a day. 

Just a minor slice of it all emcompasses. Always being switched on. 

Have you ever just taken a step back and wondered what life is like without the implication of the Internet? Or at least social media? 

This ‘Slutty Sundae’ in actual fact will include a detox. (I know totally not what Slutty Sundae means, if you don’t know what ‘Slutty Sundaes’ are you can check out the first post –

I’ve decided between my TAFE semester finishing and starting the Diploma I’ll be taking a break from social media. 

Mainly – Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat 

I’m sure it’s been done before but I’m not doing it to follow some trend. 

I’ve found social media manipulates me to distant myself from other things in life that matter more or are at least more productive. 

Today for instance, already instead of spending way too much time (more than I would like to admit) scrolling on my feed. I’ve replanted my flower pots, gone shopping, watered the garden and most importantly cleaned my room. 

I know my plants look dead but they’ve just been neglected due to my social media addiction. 

My room has been the pain of my existence as I’m allergic to cleaning it -coincidentally I’m also allergic to dust so when I do clean I suffer from it. 

When I’m on social media I find myself feeling a heavy wave of guilt for wasting my time. 

Time is all we have.

Why spend it on useless and wasteful comment sections of videos that really don’t matter in the grand scheme of things? 

I don’t doubt that social media has a place in society but I believe I’ve just exercised my social media right way too much. 

Stepping down from the platform was actually anxious provoking. 

What will I do now? How will I spend my time? What can I achieve that is worthwhile? Who am I, without the guarantee of social media? 

The funny thing is, life does go on. I’ll still be able to eat at the same places and meet up with the same friends. 

Just everyone won’t know about it. 

Since I had been back from Cananda I have spent less time uploading things to Facebook than I used to. Literally too often there was a status.

But this time I won’t be able to even see it. I’ve deleted it all. 

I’m keeping whatsapp because I see it more for texting friends than what I would classify as social media. 

I’ll be aiming to meet people more so in person. I’ve lined up some support groups for myself. Not social media specific but to do with anxiety. 

For me, social media has increased my anxiety so I plan to work out a way of being more comfortable. Especially talking about anxiety – which is a whole another blog post topic.

I’m also curious to know what I’ll do to fill up the spaces that have normally forced me to use social media. 

Waiting for the bus, being on the bus, getting off the bus, waiting for a friend outside a movie cinema, not watching TV ads, going shopping with a friend who has completely different taste to me, before bed, waking up, on the toilet, going to events on my own, in between Netflix episodes. 

The list is endless. 

Once I was in a drama class, and the teacher told us to do anything in the room that preoccupied our minds and we had to be in the moment. Really concentrate and believe. 

I have never had so much fun counting the different number of lights or power plugs in the room. 

A normally  boring task, yet I was so utterly involved I literally forgot what time it was. 

Wish me luck or maybe I don’t need luck. 

Just embrace it more likely. 

Ps. I know WordPress may be leaning towards a social media but I’m not on this very often. 

I only plan to write posts during this time. 


‘Slutty Sundaes’ – you never knew when she was going to snap

Travel has been the last few  ‘Slutty Sundaes’ entries. 

But today, I felt like telling a bit of a sad story. 

One that shouldn’t be shunned away and put in a forgotten cupboard that never gets cleaned. 

When I was a kid, between the age of 9-12 I had this neighbour friend. I’ll call her R and she was 9. Same age as me. At least that’s where this story starts. 

We were the bestest of mates. Music -mainly Hanson- were our band of choice to idolise. It was the 90’s. Young boys were fascinating yet if either of us had one around we wouldn’t have known what to do.

R had a pool which made summer time a great way to escape. We came up with games, pretending we were doctors of this wicked experiment or members of the Spice Girls. Or mimicking killer whales and humpbacks.

R also had a little sister. I’ll call her N. She was 3 years younger than us.  

R, N and myself would play all day in the pool. Sunburnt and exhausted, we would shower together (Not in a weird way) and then cosy up to the Nintendo 360 and play Mariocart. We were ‘Tomboys’. 

I distinctly remember eating light and tangy chips, whilst having to juggle the Nintendo controller, driving Yoshi’s car through tunnels avoiding shells. It was multitasking at its finest. 

Growing up, I knew I was a bit different. Considerably different in the sense that I was an anxious child. Things scared me easily. Sleeping over was a nightmare and mean people was one of my greatest fear. Namely, R and N’s mum

I wouldn’t call her a friendly person. She was scary. Completely different from my own mum. An aggressive persona meant that heading over their house was sometimes like treading on eggshells. You never knew when she was going to snap. 

Their dad on the other hand was amazing. He was the most gentle man. Tall, dark and handsome. Their small dog utterly obsessed with him always at his feet or around on his lap when driving. 
As a time went on as a 10 or so year-old, I couldn’t comprehend the seriousness of the family dynamic. 

Once, I was so scared of sleeping over, their Dad comforted me, telling me I was okay and strong enough to stay over but could go home if needed. Whilst his wife, annoyed, I had bothered them at such a late hour to go home. Admittedly, it was two doors down from my house. But, I was a highly anxious 


Any excuse to share a movie or new song, I was over R’s house. We hung out as much as possible. She also had more and better toys. 
I believe I was 11 at the time they went on a holiday to Bali, Indonesia. I remember R telling me she had a mansion that they lived in with a maid that made any food she  requested.

A little envious of their getaway, I was eager to see R and N when they returned to hear their new adventures. 

One day, I had overheard a conversation between my parents.

Something had gone wrong

Asking my mum what she was talking about she sat me down and had explained it in involved R and N’s holiday. It involved their dad. 

He had committed suicide

It’s really hard to comphrehend what all this meant. I remember feeling really confused. 

R and N came home with their mum but no dad. It was quite profound. 

I’ll never forget his funeral. We went to this spot near the Harbour Bridge. 

R’s Dad have been in a coffin for viewing then cremated so his ashes could be spread across the harbour, underneath the bridge. 
I walked along with her to the boat when she said something I have never forgotten. 

“His face had make up. He looked really funny,” said R looking spaced out. 

Inside I felt this was wrong. At least to talk about the dead like that- even if it was your own Dad.

Months had passed, and they had decided to leave Sydney. The pain of their father was too much. Queensland was sunnier, hotter and as far as away as you could go for a new life. 

Over the years I saw the girls. R and N but something had changed. Considerably their father committing suicide would have an effect that was deep seeded. 

One that meant seeing that same friend they played with ,when their father was alive, wasn’t the most appealing time spent. 

The last time I remember seeing them we were 16.  N was 13 at the time. But she wasn’t a typical 13 year old looking girl. 

She looked our age, maybe even older. Really beautiful. Talking to this guy over her flip phone who was 16. We went to this shopping centre and she was adamant about finding a toilet. There she sent him a topless photo of herself. 

I was gobsmacked.

 Internally I wondered if she would have acted this way if her father was still alive. 

R told me she was suffering from depression and all this medication while N hardly spoke to me. 

It was clear we had parted ways.

I always think back to R and N. Imagining  what their lives are like. If they’re happy. 

One time when I went to visit them when I was 12. R’s mum was angry. We were driving to a theme park but were late. Somehow in her frustration she let out, “Look what your father has done to us,” she said with force. 

I found out much later in life, their father had gotten into a car in Bali, and gased himself with the fumes of the car. But it wasn’t just that. He also took pills. 

Suffering in silence is never the way to go. Witnessing the effect of this I believe has always struck me. Because I know what it’s like to try and pick up the pieces. It’s hard and torturous.

Nothing an 8-year-old and 11-year-old should experience. 

Note:  I am saddened that such a gentle kind natured man could feel this was his only escape. Seeking help is an option. 

If you’re suffering with suicidal thoughts or are in a place of difficulty. Speak up or call someone. 

Call 13 11 14 for Lifeline or 000 if you’re in immediate danger.