Cats of the World: St. George’s, Bermuda

Cats tend to help me tell the story of a place in their always-masterful inhabitance of it. Plus, I just like snapping cat pics.

And so, I give you, the cats of Bermuda — the rascally little nuggets who roam the cobblestone roads as if they own them, boldly mewling for attention from tourists or skirting into bushes at the faintest sound.

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Plans in the Works

On the travel front, I’ve been packing (badly) for an upcoming trip to Bermuda! If I’m being perfectly honest, as much as I love doing the laid-back island vacation thing, I’m actually a bit stressed about this one. And believe me, I know it’s wrong to complain about spending a week lounging on pink-sand beaches. I get it. I do.

But there’s this little thing called the Bermuda Triangle that I am not too keen on experiencing!!! Now would be a very inconvenient time for my plane to go missing, because I’ve got a lot of half-baked plans in the works, and these days I’m actually pretty stoked about not dying.

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June in Review

June was the month I relaunched my blog under the new name, Antipodal Pull. I bought a new url and began blogging with a renewed fervor, but I’m still sticking to the same old Sydney topics — self discovery, awkward human interactions, mental health, short fiction, and (of course) cat pictures.

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It’s My Blogiversary!

Happy birthday to my blog, which is now old enough to take its first wobbly steps and gum a fistful of vanilla cake to a slobbery pulp. That is to say: this blog is one year old!

It’s been one year since I published my first post, a rambling little introduction to my blog and myself where I attempted to predict what this blog would become. I had graduated from college the previous May with a degree in creative writing. The course I completed was a highly selective thesis program in which I worked one-on-one with my professors to assemble a manuscript of short fiction. In my mind, this was enough to qualify me as an accomplished writer, and accomplished writers all have their own websites.

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Sunday Photo Fiction: Surveillance

Old Crazy was a fixture of Liberty Park, a landmark as recognizable and immutable as the mermaid fountain in the square.

“They’re watching,” he’d say with faraway eyes and a discordant tone of immediacy.

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Cats of the World: Turks and Caicos

“You always told me I wasn’t allowed to pet the strays!” my teen sister said, indignant. “What about all their ‘diseases?'”

“Sydney’s lived a good life,” my mom replied.

And I have. That good life is made noticeably better by the presence of cats.

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Decorating my work desk: an unexpected package for the blues

No one act of kindness will bring us peace on earth, and no one boxful of office supplies will cure your friend’s depression. But the gift my friend gave me was more than just a Get Well Soon card in blue wrapping paper. It was a reminder that life is to be appreciated for what it is — even the temporary phases of transition.

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Getting to Know Me

When my non-depressed self comes back into my life as if nothing has happened, it feels disingenuous. She tries to connect with me by asking me playful questions like, “So, how’s the love life?” It’s a universal icebreaker, a way for her to learn something juicy about my life. But the appropriate response doesn’t exist for a person whose romantic undertakings have been abysmal. The dating pool is bleak enough to depress a normal person and dating while depressed is another enterprise altogether.

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Sunday Photo Fiction: Greenhouse Effect

“Look at his green dress!” Ava says, shoving the coloring book toward her grandma.

“Her green dress,” Mary says, inspecting the leaves of a raspberry plant with knobby fingers.

I shoot my mother a look.

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