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.Read More
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.Read More
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.Read More
“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.Read More
And that’s it. That’s all I wrote in May. Two posts to encapsulate 31 days of mayhem, misery, and experience.
It’s also two more posts than I wrote in March and April combined. Over the course of 31 days I’ve felt myself transforming, unfurling, thawing. I’m not who I was a month ago.Read More
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.Read More
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.Read More
“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.Read More
In the inaugural month of my 2017 resolution to read a book a week, here are the first four, including brief synopses for those of you looking for what to read next yourself.Read More
The January 21, 2017 March on Lansing marked my first experience protesting. I showed up without a sign, without a hat, and without a clue what to expect. I worried I’d feel out of place, that there’d be chanting and I wouldn’t know the words, that I’d be questioned about my motives and wouldn’t have a strong enough political education to know how to explain what I was doing there–none of that happened.Read More