Friday, 18 April 2014

How do you even.

Dear Readers,

How is it that a cat can walk across the keyboard of a Mac laptop, with power the off and iTunes closed, and somehow start playing Shakira’s Whenever, Wherever at full volume, at 7am on Good Friday?

If anyone knows, please advise.

Kind regards,

Sarah Carman. Or Catman. I'm don't even know anymore.

Sunday, 13 April 2014

2013: Year of the Sports Clothing.

A lot of people in our world wear clothes.

Some people wear plain clothes.

Some people wear expensive clothes.

Some people wear practical clothes.

Some people wear clothes that are a little less practical...

And some people wear a combination of these types of clothes.

But basically, everyone I know wears clothes.

And when their clothes don't fit, that is an issue.

I have experienced this, when I was too thin and needed to gain weight in order to reverse the damage done to my body and brain.

Quite obviously, when you gain weight, your clothes don't fit very well anymore.

So you need new ones.

I definitely needed new ones.

But I didn't just run out at the first available opportunity to stock up.


Very no.

For a while I baulked at the prospect, for a number of reasons:

1. I thought that buying new clothes was materialistic and wasteful, especially when (objectively speaking) I already had clothes!
2. I didn't think I was "worth it".
3. I thought that I should save for more important things.
4. I didn't enjoy clothes shopping because it involved the exchange of pointless pleasantries with person after person.

Thankfully, I have stopped hating on clothes shopping.

(This happened at around the same time I started treating myself more kindly.)

It is extremely fortunate that my views on clothes shopping changed, because up until that point, I had dressed in shorts and t-shirts for over a year. I don't know why this continued for as long as it did - perhaps a combination of laziness and residual fitness aspiration. I'm not sure.

Anyway, I thought I would describe to you the day that I stopped wearing sports clothes. Thinking about it makes me smile, and I like smiling, so I'm going to write about it.

Earlier this year I went shopping. Tim came too. We walked around Chatswood Chase for a little while, popping into shops now and again so that I could try things on. It was a fun day at first.

Soon enough I wasn't feeling very good because it was beginning to turn into one of those failed shopping trips that we've all been on...

I got thinking: "Why did I even bother? This is almost always more trouble than it's worth. I'm experiencing soul destruction, and what is it over? Various clothing fibres sewn into certain shapes. Given that I have enjoyed not worrying about this sort of rubbish for months now, I don't want this to be the start of it again."

At that point, we had lunch. Lunch helps.

After lunch, we walked past Cue. Ended up going in, and though I was not very hopeful, I was trying to make an effort. I tried on a dress, and it fit like a glove. I could not believe how wonderful it looked on. So I tried on another. And another...

I walked out of Cue at the end of the day with about 12 items of clothing, and a stylish dent in my bank account.

But it was so worth it.


1. Because I was starting a new job, and needed some not-shorts to wear.
2. Because I didn't have anything to wear when anyone invited me out for dinner. And, being a lot better, I had started taking people up on invites a lot more.
3. Because I essentially lived in sports clothes for a year. I mean, come on. Enough's enough.
4. And, I know it sounds cheesy, but because I'm worth it.

I now wear a variety of clothes that suit me. (Including sports clothes - for sport.)

 Obviously love to wear silly expressions.

And worn-out body language because soccer is hard work.

I know which cuts are flattering and which ones instantly transform me into some type of root vegetable. I do not dislike root vegetables but I prefer not to resemble them on a day-to-day basis. I think this is ok. What do you think?

Saturday, 5 April 2014


Yesterday was a pretty cool day.

I finally graduated from Sydney University, with a Bachelor of Science!

Though the grandeur and fuss was a bit excessive at times, it was great to be there in a state of happiness and health! Especially after being unwell for so long throughout my degree.

The quadrangle was packed with people before the ceremony. It made for hilarious photographing, because every time you'd get a decent shot, you'd soon realise that someone had walked into it or made a face in the background. Also, we skilfully managed to get the umbrella handle in a few photos.

My family, minus my mum who is an Athens for work. (Hi mum!)

I've lost focus...

As I was sitting in the great hall waiting to walk up on stage, I thought of both my granddads. They are no longer alive, but as I was growing up they both encouraged me to aim high and never give up. When I was much younger I thought that was an instruction to try as hard as I could and never stop until I achieved the next thing on my list. I think now I'm understanding it better. When life throws curve balls, I just have to keep on playing the game. That's all I have to do. I don't have to win all the time, or set records, or do anything really. I just have to play.

I genuinely believe that my granddads would have been incredibly proud to see me find my feet and put my best one forward.

And finally, congratulations to Katie, who graduated on the same day as me!! :)

Friday, 28 March 2014


I'm afraid I've accumulated a backlog of blogable content.



Cat anecdotes...

And it has been going on for a little bit too long.

To explain, the reason for the poor form/blogging absence is basically just overworking. I'm working too much. I've got a full time job and I'm tutoring twelve students. And yes, I know it's a problem, because I don't have much free time to do the things I want to do. (Specifically: "Gee, I really want to write a blog about that, but I don't have time this week!")

So here is an update, in photo form.

Our cats are doing well. Socks has perfected his eating strategy: he now capitalises on Poppet's meals to ensure maximum intake. He may have grown since I last posted a photo of him. He is also a lot lazier now, and sleeps plentifully.

The other day I was driving and this happened.

The other day I was driving and I reversed into someone. I do have a photo of that too, but I'd rather not post it here.

Here is a breakfast I had. At work, breakfast is provided if you miss yours for some reason, so I am being well looked after.

We viewed an event venue one day in March. I don't remember when it was, but I do remember feeling the need to take a photo!

On the way back from viewing the venue, we drove past this legitimate locale. There were actual kittens in the window at the time. One of them lost its balance and fell off the cat climbing contraption.

(Judging by the phone number, it might be a bit tricky to ring the premises.)

Here is a photo of Lola. We hung out two weeks ago while her family was away on holidays. She looks a bit sad in this photo as they had left the day before. I think she missed them a lot!

Here is a photo that I absolutely adore:

I went to Melbourne over the weekend for work. It was great to travel again after staying in Sydney for the past couple of years. The conference I attended was excellent, and quite interesting. I also enjoyed sipping juice by the Yarra River and watching hot air balloons at dawn.

And finally, Socks put on a display the other night. He was in a strange position on the steps at our place, so I took a photo. Then he started to move into all sorts of weird and wonderful positions, so my one photo turned into a photo shoot. Modelling career pending.

The paws!

Thursday, 27 March 2014


When I was in Melbourne on the weekend, I realised something about planes.

Planes have got to be one of the coolest things ever invented.

Like, seriously.

One minute you're on the ground just chilling in seat 26D, and the next thing you know, you're hurtling down an extra-long purpose-built tarmac at some crazy fast speed.

Before you have time to process the pace, the plane gets faster still, and a wall of sound fills both the cabin and every human ear within it.

Wheels leave the ground, and as seat 26D begins to tilt backwards, you tilt with it. Houses get smaller. You recall how legit computer games like SimCity are, and you take a moment to curse yourself for not playing them in years. (Before remembering that a) you are an adult now, and b) you barely have enough time to get your car serviced or make it to the post office before it closes.)

The last thing that happens at take off - and this is experienced in its most acute form by highly self-analytical people - is that your perceived significance of your life in the wider scheme of things takes a massive hit. You are small. The world is big. Deal with it.

In short, my trip to Melbourne made me realise that I like planes.

Aviation hasn't always been enjoyable for me though. As a kid, I thought planes were the WORST.

For one, the food was terrible:

Q: "Dad, what is the smelly brown liquid in my dinner?"
A: "Gravy, allegedly."

Q: "Is the broccoli supposed to have been digested by somebody else before making it to my plate?"
A: "In all likelihood, yes."

Q: "How many times do they reheat the food on planes, Dad?"
A: "At least four times, but possibly five."

Q: "Forget the emergency exit, did you bring the emergency sandwiches?"
A: "Yes, but I left them at home."

The entertainment options were equally appalling. Air travel has taught me that you cannot watch Spy Kids six times on a long-haul flight and simultaneously retain a skerrick of neurological functionality. You cannot. I know this. It is not worth finding out for yourself. Just trust me on this one.

Seating presented another problem for me as a child. Nine times out of ten, we ended up in seats near the toilets. This was bad for a number of reasons. Primarily, it was not nice to be glared at by people queuing up in the aisle beside our seats. They were probably just tired and desperate for the loo, but still, taking it out on us me wasn't cool.

Worse still, these miserable people end up depositing exquisitely fragrant bio waste in those frightful vacuum-suction toilets, and regardless of the brevity with which the door was open between visitors, the stench still wafted towards us. Thank goodness for my Dad and his keen sense of smell, otherwise I don't think anybody would have understood how unpleasant the smell was to me, or rather, to my young receptor-rich nasal passage.

Being a young child puts you on the back food before you even board. Nobody likes children on planes. It's a confined space, and all sensible adults know that you are likely to make noise, or cry, or demand attention, or squirm, or sleep in the aisle, or run up and down the aisle, or spend too much time in the toilet because you're too scared to flush your excrement. Given that children have high levels of boisterousness, planes are not their ideal environs.

At least whenever I go on planes now, I greatly appreciate the fresh sandwiches, online check in with seat selection (read: toilet avoidance strategy), and the WiFi. Sweet, sweet WiFi.