Taipei: Day 3

Last night I did end up venturing out again. My plan was to just get a bite to eat and come back, but, the weather was nice, people were out on the streets, and I decided to go see what all the excitement was about. The empty market I had been wandering around in the morning was in full swing, so I decided to spend a bit of time exploring and finding something to eat. There are so many street food stalls around, but, I'm not exactly an adventurous eater and the crowds and language barrier meant I usually kept walking, though I did kind of try to order something at one stall before giving up!

Relevant street art

More wandering through laneways led me to this excellent bit of street art, along with many tattoo parlours that had me thinking for a minute (but no, I don't think ink is in the budget right now). Speaking of tattoos, the young people of Taipei are well and truly inked! I'm not exactly a novelty here, having green hair and visible tattoos. (And if you've ever found yourself saying "You don't see Chinese people walking around with English words tattooed on them!" you are wrong.)

I treated myself to a taro milk iced drink while I continued to wander in search of food. I eventually decided that venture was in the too hard basket and went to the bakery near my hotel to get a couple savoury pastries, then called it a night.

This morning I went to the canteen for breakfast, where the ladies pretty much insisted on me having a tuna sandwich. Why not? My plan was to do some work this morning, but I figured a stop off at the nearby temple I've been walking passed every day would be an even better way to start the day. And it was! The Tien-Ho Temple is beautiful and made for an excellent subject to play around with on my new camera (pics will be uploaded after my trip). People were stopping in to say their prayers before heading off on their day, the sun was shining through the humid haze, and the smell of incense was in the air. I spent some time giggling at the koi as they gulped at me, and tried not to get in anyone's way. One of the women gave me a pamphlet on the temple and told me I was most welcome to wander around and take pictures. It was really lovely and serene and I left a small donation before heading off.

Strange but delicious bed fellows

I don't exactly know what happened to my plan to do some work, but I soon found myself wandering through laneways again. This time I stopped at a little convenience store and bought myself a roasted sweet potato. It was amazing! Wandering back to my hotel, I decided to stop in at the coffee place I'd wanted to go to yesterday and get something to take away. They sell these croissants with a fish on them, how could I say no? I ended up ordering a rose iced latte and a peanut butter and mashed potato croissant to take back to my hotel. They were both delicious! 

The coffee left me a bit too wired to really settle into reading and focusing on stuff (or so I tell myself), but I somehow managed to do my taxes (!!!) so at least got some adulting out of the way. Then I decided to head off to another nearby temple and have a wander around the old herb market and historical streets in that part of Wanhua District. I got on the metro and took it one stop to the LungShan Temple. This is a much bigger, more tourist oriented temple. Everyone was taking selfies, and I ended up posing in some stranger's pictures because I thought she was asking me to take a picture of her and her partner, but nope, she wanted a pic with me (I can't blame her, really). The highlight of this temple for me was the cats! First I saw a black cat scurry passed. I tried to befriend him but he was too busy catting to pay me any mind. Then I saw another cat sneaking around on the temple roof. Tifa and the kittens would love to explore that roof!

Herb Alley

The temple was quite busy, with tour groups going through it along with people coming to pray. I didn't stick around very long, instead opting to wander around the area and check out the small laneway known as Herb Alley. It smelled divine! I suspect the market was much bigger than the bit that I saw, but there was a small tour group at one end of it and I didn't feel like trying to push passed them. Instead I opted for a walk around the block. The surrounding area is much less touristy and made for a pleasant stroll, getting a sense of life in Taipei for an older population than the one around where I'm staying. There were quite a few karaoke bars with women working as entertainers, and men belting out the tunes. It was an interesting part of the city to see that just got interestinger!

There's a brothel behind me

I eventually made it back around to the herb market and decided to get myself an iced tea. OMG it was so good! A bit minty, very refreshing on a hot day. My tea and I then set off to find Bopilao Old Street, getting pleasantly lost in the process. I decided to have a wander down a quiet picturesque laneway, take some selfies, see where I ended up. There were lots of scooters parked on the street, and a couple women milling about out the front of a house. I continued wandering down the laneway as men on scooters kept zipping passed. And then I realised: I'd stumbled into a red light district. I wasn't entirely sure, but, my sexual subculture senses were tingling, and had been for awhile. Then I saw a woman leading a man into a building and I knew. I would have loved to have talked to the women but going up to someone and being like "hey, are you a sex worker?" isn't exactly an acceptable thing to do.

Grumpus cat

Instead, we bonded over me trying to pat a very grumpy cat. I went up making cooing noises while it was bathing and it glared at me and then took a few swipes at me before storming off. The women and I had a good laugh over it. I then noticed some kittens further down, who were also not interested in me. So, after my cat spotting I bid farewell to the sex workers and made my way over to Bopilao Old Street.

As the name implies, Bopilao Old Street is an old street, kind of. It's actually a very new revival of an alley from the Qing dynasty. So new that, despite the architecture clearly being quite old, it felt very modern. Apparently the city hasn't quite worked out what to do with the street yet, as there are lots of empty buildings waiting to be turned into things. Empty buildings aside from the air conditioning, which by this stage in the day was much appreciated! So after having a little look around I walked back to my hotel to have a bit of a rest before heading out to some more markets.

The Red House is an artist market/hub for fashionistas/central beacon for the whitewashing of Taipei's queer scene. (I shit you not, there was a white person selling t-shirts with popular fictional characters reimagined as bananas.) It didn't quite live up to my expectations as per the guide book (though, really, that's not a surprise). That being said, the market inside the Red House was really lovely/exactly like being in an upscale artist market in Melbourne. I may have bought a few things.

Put off by the touristy vibe/actual tourists at the cafes surrounding the Red House, I again set off on a wander, this time determined to have a proper sit down meal instead of getting a snack thing from a stall to eat back at my hotel. Turns out there's about a billion restaurants in the opposite direction from the one I usually wander in, so, that's good to know on my last night at this hotel.

Eventually I found a place where I could sit down, relax, and get some sort of Asian food. Or so I thought. I am not entirely sure how to classify the dish I was served, aside from as yummy and nourishing. My meal came with a small glass of the most amazing fruit juice as well. I'm not entirely sure what kind of fruit juice, but possibly pear. Ok, ok, I may have chosen this place because they had a cat sign. They had a donation box for I'm going to assume animal rescue, which I emptied my coins into.

Somebody's dinner, but not mine

After dinner my plan was to wander around some more and enjoy observing the night life. It had started to rain, but I had my umbrella and was not going to be put off by a bit of spitting. But then the spitting turned into pouring, which then turned into a thunderstorm and I learned my lesson about wandering around in the rain yesterday! 

On my way back to the hotel I passed by this street food stall, which caught my eye. I hadn't seen any with so many fish before, and I certainly hadn't seen any with frogs!! I've also never seen frogs the size of these and am now left wondering whereabouts in Taiwan I need to go to see some giant ass frogs!

Tonight is my last night in Wanhua/Ximending. I feel like there's lots more to do and see in this part of the city, but, other adventures await. Tomorrow I embark on my Hello Kitty train adventure to Taitung, where I'll spend a couple days before heading into the mountains for a couple of days at the Zhiben Hot Springs (where I splurged and booked myself a room in one of the fancier resorts). After that, it's back to Taipei for 3 days, and then back to Melbourne (just in time to miss my first class of the semester, oops!)

Taipei: Day 2

When the weather forecast calls for a super typhoon...

My plans for today were to have breakfast, then go to a nearby cafe for a coffee and to do some reading, then to head into the centre of Taipei to have lunch at a cat cafe, and then wander over to the Taipei Discovery Centre, and maybe Taipei 101. Things didn't quite go to plan!

Breakfast is served

As I was saying yesterday, my daily breakfast included in my hotel booking is served at a cafe down the street called Taipei Milk King. My voucher gets me a pre-made sandwich and a coffee or a tea. It's a bit strange, but, let me tell you that free sandwich makes a great start to the day!

After breakfast I didn't feel the immediate need for a second coffee, so I decided to go have another wander, this time choosing to explore a little laneway with a decorative sign proclaiming it to be Hong Kong Street. The laneway led me to a massive street market filled with shops selling touristy souvenirs. Shops don't really seem to be open in the mornings here, so most places were closed. But I did come across a cute little shop with various stickers, signs, and key chains proclaiming love for all sorts of fur babies. Yes, Taiwan is getting all my cat tourist dollars.

A graffiti filled laneway

I like wandering around my district in the mornings, when there aren't many people about and shops are shut or just opening. I find busy, noisy markets overwhelming and generally try to get out as fast as I can, so getting to linger and take things in slowly is quite nice (and possibly easier on my wallet).

My wandering took me down another quiet little laneway, this one filled with interesting graffiti. It was at this stage lightly raining and I was enjoying strolling around and taking in the sights, so I wasn't too bothered when I realised I was lost again. I had found one of the main streets, which connects up with the street my hotel is just off of so I knew I just needed to figure out which direction to walk in. Having yesterday trusted my instincts and gone the wrong way, I decided today to go against my instincts...and go the wrong way.

Laneway apartments and shops

When I realised I was heading in the wrong direction, I turned around and was stopped by a man who had seen me walk past a moment before. Turns out he had been sitting behind me on our flight yesterday! We had a friendly chat and he got directions for me from a shop lady and sent me on my way. It left me feeling good about the world and I headed back with a smile.

The area that I'm staying in is a tourist area (it's also the LGBT part of town though I've yet to really venture into the scene). There are quite a few coffee places on the main street and I decided to check one of them out. The one I wanted to go to only had high stools for seating, and I can't sit on those types of chairs because of my hip. So I went to another place across the street called Fong Da Coffee. Turns out this place is quite well known! It was busy, but I was able to share a table out the back, where I sat down with an iced latte and a journal article and enjoyed the ambiance of working in a busy cafe.

Getting thoroughly soaked in Da'an

Then it was back to the hotel to get myself organised for what I intended to be a big day of sight seeing. I packed up my camera and guidebook and water bottle into my backpack and headed off on the metro into the city centre. By this stage it was raining significantly harder than before and I was starting to think not having an umbrella was a mistake. But, it was still warm and I don't mind getting a bit wet so off I went in search of one of Taipei's many cat cafes!

I'd looked up the address online before heading off and was so proud of myself for negotiating my way from the train station to the right street, then going the right way and finding the right laneway! Of course, when I couldn't see the cafe I walked down about 5 laneways and back, while the rain got heavier and heavier, and I got hungrier and hungrier. Honestly, I felt like I was going to cry. Very little was open, nobody was around, I didn't know why I couldn't find the cafe, and I just wanted to sit down and get something to eat. Feeling quite defeated, I sought sustenance and shelter from the rain, and ended up at a Burger King. I felt like an ass going into a Western fast food chain, but, the situation definitely called for it! Plus, there was free wifi so I could look up the cat cafe's information again and figure out what went wrong. After having some chicken nuggets and finding out I'd walked right past the cafe twice, I felt fortified to go try again. The rain showed no sign of letting up, so I headed into a nearby 7-Eleven (there's one almost every 100 metres here) and bought an umbrella. Then, back to the cafe!

A very closed cat cafe 

'Torrential' would not be an overstatement to describe the rain when I arrived at Toast Chat, which was right where Google said it would be, but significantly more closed than Google said it would be. Apparently sensible people stay in when there's a typhoon!

Determined to make the best of a bad situation, I decided to wander over to the nearby Taipei Discovery Centre where surely I could get out of the rain and spend an enjoyable afternoon learning about Taipei. Of course, I had only a vague idea about how to get there and that thing about the torrential rain.

I basically wandered my way over to a main road, which I was able to identify on my guidebook map. I wasn't sure where on that road I was though, or which direction to walk in, and I wasn't quite so willing to just wing it. I tried asking some girls but they didn't know what I was on about (fair enough), and while I was trying to figure out what to do a man came out of a restaurant and asked me if I needed help. Bless! He'd just come back from Europe and could spot a tourist in need and spoke English and had Google on his phone and he quickly got me sorted out. He informed me that there was a good chance the Discovery Centre would be closed because of the rain, but I wasn't giving up yet! (Spoiler, I should have given up.)

Off I went, while the rain increased to whatever comes next after torrential. Now, for the most part walking around in Taipei I've been under building awnings so the rain isn't a big deal. But for this walk, I was going passed the Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall, situated inside a luscious park. Just right out in the open. It wasn't a long walk, but, it wasn't a short one either given the rain! By the time I got to City Hall (where the Discovery Centre is located) I was soaked through and through. Still not giving up, I went up to the big City Hall building...which was closed. I sat under it's awning for awhile watching the downpour and contemplating what to do. The rain wasn't going to be letting up any time soon, I was drenched, it was time to go back to my hotel.

Fortunately, I wasn't too far from a metro station. I found a somewhat mysterious escalator going down and decided I'd rather be lost out of the rain than in it, so headed down. It took me into another underground shopping area and then to the metro station. I treated myself to a couple donuts from Mr Donut (one red bean, one lemon), got on the train, and headed home.

Now it looks like the rain has stopped, there's lots of people out on the street, and I've had some time to dry off and warm up. I ended up being too tired last night to go out again, but I'm feeling rested now so will likely venture out for some dinner and then call it a night. Tomorrow I plan to stay in and do some work in the morning, then head out later in the day to check out Ximending's apparently noteworthy weekend fashion scene (flamingo leggings are at the ready!)

Taipei: Day 1

Alright, I don't know that I'll do daily blogs about my trip, but since I'm chilling out in my hotel room resting my hip I figured I might as well tell you about my adventures thus far!

So back in March or April I decided to go on vacation to Taiwan. Why? The Hello Kitty train of course! Well, that was what put Taiwan as a destination into my mind. Then I started researching it and it was an affordable option that would allow me to feel comfortable travelling on my own, not involve beaches and hammocks and shit, but would involve exploring a city and going to the mountains (and just a little beach)!

And here I am!

Yesterday I flew Melbourne to KL to Taipei, a journey that involved about 16 hours being on a plane with no in flight entertainment because my Kindle battery died as soon as we took off and my laptop is a mess and I didn't have any backup plans. I ended up reading pretty much the entire flight magazine. Let me tell you something: airline magazine journalists are...not great. I also read an academic article and got some insight into how academics actually manage to get shit done on planes.

My layover in KL lasted about 15 minutes. I actually had more time than I thought I did, but, having a history of missing flights I wasn't taking any chances. The second flight was shorter and warmer and the people on the plane in better moods (probably because, like me, they were headed for a vacation). I was befriended by the young woman sitting next to me, who shared snacks and smiles.

We didn't get in to Taipei until 10:30pm, which is 12:30am Melbourne time. I'd been up since about 5am and hadn't really slept on the flight so was pretty well delirious by the time I got to the baggage carousel. I watched all the bags go around and around, as the people from my flight collected them and headed on their way. I started to think "I'm so tired I don't even care about this suitcase I just want to go to the hotel and deal with it later!" Be careful what you wish for, that almost came true! My bag hadn't come off the plane, almost everyone from my flight was gone, and there was no indication of any more baggage to come. I eventually found the airline services people I needed to talk to, just in time for a young couple from my flight to inform me there had been a delay in offloading and there was more baggage coming. Sure enough, when we got back to the carousel our bags were all there. Happy ending!

I'd been debating if I should book a pick up from my hotel (it wasn't cheap) or take public transport, and let me tell you, that airport pick up was worth every penny! We didn't get back to the hotel until about 12:30am and I didn't have to do anything (my poor driver would have been waiting about an hour and he didn't speak enough English for me to explain why).

A sight for sore eyes

I was pretty happy to get into my room and see this glorious bed waiting for me! I'd made the decision to stay in mid-range hotels for my whole trip because although it stretches my budget, it gives me peace of mind. I have my own room that is nice and air conditioned and I can be here whenever I want. Given my hip problem, having a nice space to relax in and rest is well worth it. Plus I do plan on finishing something I've been working on for a million years, so, having a nice office space is an added bonus.

I'm staying in Taipei until the 10th, when I head out to Taitung, then coming back to Taipei for a few days (but staying at a hotel in a different part of the city). My booking here comes with breakfast, served in a little cafe down the street. I'll have to write about the breakfast situation another day, because when I went down this morning I didn't know what I was walking into and hadn't brought my camera.

After breakfast I came back up to my room and got my stuff together. I have a power adapter, but the wall plugs here are 2 prong and my adapter is 3 pronged. So I set off to get some cash and find something to deal with that situation. The cash was easy, but finding a place that sold what I needed took a bit of time. I used that time to get oriented (*lost) in the area I'm staying (Wanhua/Ximending). There are lots of little laneways around here, filled with all sorts of things. Some are markets, some have cafes and street food stalls, some just provide a reprieve from the traffic of the main streets. I found a street filled with shops that make trophies and plaques. I also found all sorts of mechanical and technical repair type shops. Eventually I wandered into a little dollar store type grocer and found something I could use to fix my adapter problem. Now to just find my way back to the hotel!!

The entrance to my hotel is in a cute little laneway

I've been really impressed with the amount of English in Taipei. Like, I knew it wasn't going to be a particularly challenging city to work out, but, I swear every sign is in Mandarin and English. Not only that, but any time an announcement is made it's made in both languages. And even the people I've encountered who don't speak English speak more English than I do Mandarin. I mean, compared to when I was in Buenos Aires where it was very rare to encounter any English at all, I feel spoiled. Like almost to the point where I feel like there's no language barrier. As I said, I wasn't expecting it to be hard, but I wasn't expecting it to be this easy!

So when I'd had enough of being lost I got my guide book out and easily figured out where I was on the map and where I needed to be and how to get there. I mean, I took a wrong turn at pretty much every opportunity, but, it didn't take me too long to figure out my mistake.

After having a little rest and a recharge of my phone battery, I headed back out for my big important task of the day: booking my ticket on the Hello Kitty train. Now, this is peak tourist season, the train only runs on weekends, and I rather stupidly forgot about how I'd need to book this well in advance. So in the days before I left when I tried to book a ticket online the website told me it was sold out. I decided not to freak out and just see what I could do about it when I got here. Surely there would be cancellations or scalpers or something!

Choo choo imma be on you!

The first step was to go to the metro station near where I'm staying. I wasn't sure where I needed to go to buy the actual train ticket, so I asked at the information desk and eventually we worked out I had to go to Taipei Main Station, which was only one stop away. I got on the metro (which, again, ridiculously easy to navigate) and headed for the train station proper. Then to another information booth to ask where the train tickets were sold. Then I stood in a rather long queue for the wrong trains. Then I finally found the right ticket counter and showed the lady my little post-it note with the train details on it (understanding writing can be easier than understanding accents, this was a very handy little piece of paper to show all the wrong people I talked to). She looked up the train and informed me it was sold out. I knew this was a likely possibility so I didn't get upset and instead just asked to book a ticket to Taitung for the same day. Miraculously, as she was looking up alternate trains, a seat opened up on the Hello Kitty train!!! So Sunday I am booked in for an absolute overload of cuteness. I'm so happy that worked out! I also booked my return ticket, so now all my logistics are pretty much sorted!

Black sesame ice cream

By this stage, having only eaten breakfast, I was starving. There was a food court at the station, so I figured I'd grab something there. This is, of course, when everything stopped being in English and I got a bit overwhelmed (mostly because it was like 4pm and I'd had breakfast at 9am). There was a Thai restaurant that was insulated from the noise of the food court, so I went with the easy option. The staff at this place were amazing! I was bored and excited and wanted to go online but the wifi required a password. Nobody knew what it was, so the manager set up a hotspot from his phone for me. It was entirely unnecessary and completely lovely. The food was delicious, and one of the waiters eagerly offered me a coupon for a free ice cream with my meal (which obvs I accepted, black sesame is one of my favourites).

After eating I figured I'd see what the main station part of the city had to offer, but, going outside it seemed like mostly busy roads and office buildings, and seeing as it was very hot and humid I figured I'd wander around in the air conditioned station. Turns out there's a giant mall under the station! So I wandered around there for awhile and nearly got pressured into buying a rather expensive sun hat. The mall seemed to span the length of the city, seriously, it was huge! At no point did I find it's outer boundary. My hip was starting to get sore though, so I figured I'd better head back to the hotel. This again involved a bit of getting turned around, but I feel like I'm well oriented to the area now!

It's been a good first day. My feet are pleasantly sore, my hip is less pleasantly sore but not in that bad painful way I got from marking essays for 9 hours a day. I'm thinking of wandering out to get a bite to eat from one of the nearby street vendors and then calling it a night. Tomorrow I'm going to check out a cat cafe, and now that I know how easy the metro is to use, I'll probably do some more sight seeing as well.

Swiping Against Humanity

Recently I decided to give Tinder another chance. As some of you know, I've been resistant about using Tinder, though not out of any reluctance about 'online' dating. I've used all sorts of other dating sites and apps and have met many, many people from them. Hell, I recently even came across an essay someone wrote about the possibility of finding love on Tinder in which they cited an article I wrote to make the case that it is possible to find love on Tinder (of course it is!)

My reluctance to use Tinder was largely about it being linked to Facebook. I don't like that it shows my real name as I'd rather choose if that's something I'd like to disclose to someone or not. Yes, I know it's just my first name, but how many Joni's do you know? I've come to realise that other people aren't necessarily as good at finding people online as I am, but that also means I know exactly how easy I am to find.

But I've moved past that and have come to appreciate the way potential matches show up with their links (or lack of links) to my social network. It's fun to see the different configuration of friends that pop up and get a bit of insight into the kinds of people they might be friends with (though obviously Facebook friendships signal a very wide variety of relationship types).

I rejoined Tinder after a very busy week. I had a short turn around time to mark a bunch of student assignments, plus a surprise job interview that included doing a short presentation on my research. By the time I'd gotten through all of that, I just wanted to lie in bed and do nothing for a bit. So, feeling disheartened by the options available on OKC, and being between jobs and low on cash, I decided to give Tinder another go.

At first it was fun, getting to snoop into this little window of people's lives, looking for common connections, sharing and comparing the profiles I'd come across with friends for a laugh, coming across people I actually know, and fervently swiping through people I didn't to try and get to the profiles of those I did. Swiping became a way to occupy my time, a cheap source of entertainment that occasionally resulted in a conversation with a stranger that I actually wanted to engage in. And after finding out I didn't get the job, swiping became a reprieve from dealing with the realities of my life (which are improving, but, the semester break has been tough!)

Which is how I ended up spending about 24 hours swiping left.

This was not a great experience. In fact, it left me feeling quite gross and I've avoided going onto Tinder pretty much since then (though I will go back to it eventually).

I found myself swiping left for the usual reasons like no profile text, profile text consists of telling women how they should be, only body shots, hanging out with sedated tigers (although this seems to have been largely replaced with meditating under a waterfall), being 'down to earth' or 'easy going' or 'normal', only having pictures with groups of people, being at the Melbourne Cup, drinking in all the pictures, being a backpacker (though certainly I've used dating apps while traveling to hook up with the locals), working in finance, being really into motorcycles or race cars, or identifying as a sapiosexual. And I discovered a few new reasons to swipe left: being a 'lifestyle' coach, "never judge a book by its cover" profiles, playing hide and seek in a Holocaust memorial, carrying around the recently severed head of a large animal, and giving oneself hero status for stopping a 'junkie' from stealing meat.

I know that this is a matter of judgement, and these are things I find unappealing that other people may think are perfectly reasonable. What made me feel gross was that I had to actively pass this judgement on all these people. The thing is, Tinder shows you people you would quite possibly otherwise never come into any real sort of contact with. And this is good and bad because while it shows you people who are interesting, to get to them you've got to go through all the people you'd never, ever want to meet. And it's not like these people aren't on other dating sites too, but with OKC for instance it shows you what your match percentage is with another person and has ways of filtering out those you're unlikely to be compatible with.

To it's benefit though, people can't contact you unless you match with them. And after getting streams of messages on OKC from guys who seem to think their showing an interest in you is some sort of favour for which you now owe them, this is a very nice feature! Unfortunately, matching with someone is no guarantee that they will behave any differently once they have the opportunity to message you. As I found out from the guy who ignored my ambivalence about the conversation taking a turn for the sexual, and then demanded I send him wank bank material.

I've yet to actually meet anyone off of Tinder, which is surprising to me because I have been meeting people 'from the internet' (which, seriously, it's 2016, we're all people from the internet now) for over a decade. I think this has to do with, well, my tendency to use it for a few days and then disappear, but also with the affordances of the app. It lends itself well to casual conversations, and I honestly have enjoyed having the odd chat to a stranger who I probably wouldn't otherwise interact with. But the profile section doesn't include any sort of prompts and the culture of the app is not to write a long description about yourself and what you're interested in finding (though some people do).

Connections are meant to develop over a few pictures and a few words. Which obviously works well enough for people as Tinder has completely changed the face of 'online' dating (for heterosexuals anyways, and like pretty much everything else that change is owed to the gay community for developing Grindr). But for me, and at least for some of the people I've matched with, it means putting in a lot of work to get a sense of if there's any sort of connection there. Whereas with OKC because of the structured profiles and the huge array of personality questions, there's more to go off of when you contact someone. I can tell pretty quickly if I'm interested in meeting up with someone from OKC or not.

Obviously it all depends on what you're looking for and how you like to engage with people. Right now I'm open to the possibility of meeting people, but not really actively looking to do so. So maybe some of those casual conversations that have started will gradually build up enough for me to determine if I'd like to actually meet the person, and maybe they won't. And maybe there is a Tinder love story to be had, but I don't think fervently swiping through profiles to find it is worth the hassle.


A Special Bonus Feature For You, Dear Reader...

As you know, I believe in supporting and cultivating the feline arts. Aspiring blogger Tilly has written some of her thoughts, which I have included for you below. I'm sure you will agree that this young talent has a promising career ahead of her!

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I'm not going to make you feel better about my mental health

I'm going to talk candidly about what it's like to live with mental illness, so, trigger warnings ahoy!

This week is Mental Health Awareness Week, apparently. I wasn't particularly aware that this was a thing until Sunday, when my tram drove past a Beyond Blue booth at Fed Square. They had a sign that had a few buzz words on it, and one of those words was 'recovery'. This did not sit well with me.

For those of you not aware, I have chronic depression. It is not severe; I have never needed to manage it with medication (*cough* *cough* not including self-medication *cough*), I can get by without regular access to mental health services. I am able to manage it quite well through self-analysis, because I have developed the skills to do so. I have a pretty good sense of how I'm going mental health wise, and what I need to do to turn things around when I feel a depressive episode coming on. I also have an incredible support network of friends who I can turn to, and, when I need to, I usually can access some sort of mental health service fairly easily. All in all, I have a lot of privilege when it comes to managing my illness.

But I have also learned how to function in a closet, of sorts. I am very good at hiding my illness. It's a survival strategy I picked up, because, the world is a pretty shitty place to live in when you've got mental illness. For the most part, I can pass as a mentally healthy (ish) person.

This sign on the Beyond Blue booth suggesting mental illness is something to be recovered from troubled me. From my own experience, depression ebbs and flows. It never goes away. It is managed. Constantly. That is not recovery; it's remission.

Apparently the idea of promoting 'recovery' is to give people hope. But which people? Cuz those of us living with the daily struggle of mental illness are well aware we're not going to magically one day get better forever. Promoting hope of recovery amongst us is a false hope that reeks of saviour complex. And to borrow from the sex worker rights movement, save me from my saviours!

'Recovery' here is being used as a feel-good awareness raising tool; to engage people who are not affected by mental illness by giving them hope that one day we will get better. If we just keep on believing in ourselves and trying our darnedest. As Helen Razor (amongst others) has pointed out, how inspirational our sad, awful lives must be. Fuck. Off.

The problem with using hope of recovery as an awareness raising strategy is, it puts the blame back onto us when we don't get better. Which we won't. Because we can't. Not forever anyways. With remission comes the constant threat, and occasional (or frequent) reality, of relapse.

I had my first major depressive episode when I was 8. I used to think this was when I developed depression, but that doesn't really make sense. If it was something I developed because of an event that would be trauma. No, the depression was already there, waiting to be activated. It just so happened that my parents divorce pulled the trigger. But if it hadn't been that, it would have been something else. Because that depression was always there, lurking in the back corners of my brain.

It's hard to describe what it was like, this first episode. Not because it's emotionally painful, but because my brain has actually erased most of that period of my life. I have very little memory of what it was like when my parents got divorced. There are things that I know happened, like moving house. I have no idea what it was like to pack up my stuff and move into an apartment. I don't even know if I was involved in that process. There are other things that are more fuzzy. Like, one day my Mom mentioned about how after the divorce she had to set up special permission with the school for me to be late, because I was unable to get to school on time. The deal was that I'd just pop into the front office and let them know when I'd arrived. Which explains why I have so many memories of stopping into the front office. I don't remember anything else, really.

My depression went undiagnosed into my 20s. I don't know when, exactly, that first major depressive episode came to an end, or how. I know that I grew up thinking it was normal to feel sad and kinda bleak about life. I didn't believe people who claimed to not have an underlying sadness to their expressed happiness. To be honest, I'm still suspicious of those types of people and prefer not to socialise with them. To paraphrase from a Nicki Minaj song, I don't mess with them...regulars.

Over the years the depths of my depression changed, but never really went away. I know I had another major depressive episode when I was about 19, but I don't know what brought it on. (Well, that's kind of a lie, but it's also my business and I'm not making it yours.) I'm not sure if it was my second, or just the second one that I remember.

I didn't have a name for what I was going through until I was about 23. I knew depression was a thing, but I didn't know what it was. Again, being sad felt so normal for me and I hadn't really had any convincing evidence that I was the abnormal one. That ability to believe that I was not substantially different from anyone else, that was a blessing. I don't know if I would have coped at that young age, knowing how wrong I was.

What changed for me when I was 23 was that I started to have suicidal ideations. This is different from being suicidal; I had no active desire to kill myself, no plan, nor the means to execute one. It was just a sense that I'd be better off dead. Apparently I'm also quite the optimist, because at 23 that struck me as really ridiculous and helped to snap me out of what were becoming increasingly intense depressive episodes.

From that point on, I started learning about depression. Teaching myself, getting involved. I volunteered on a crisis line, which was a transformative experience. It taught me about empathy and listening and not to try to solve other people's problems. It taught me that life is incredibly complex, that people are ridiculously resilient, and that although my depression was pretty small potatoes to what other people go through, that does not in any way, shape, or form make my experiences lesser than anyone else's. Mental illness isn't a competition; but it should be a comradery.

When I am in a depressive episode, really basic things become overwhelmingly difficult. Like getting out of bed, or getting dressed. Leaving the house can feel like being sent into war. One of the things I find hardest when I'm depressed is eating. I have to decide what to eat while having no discernible appetite, then either buy it or buy the ingredients to make it. In which case I then have to do all that work of making it. So eating healthy and physically nourishing myself, that's not happening!

The other thing that I find almost impossible to do when I'm depressed is talk about being depressed. Admitting to what I am going through feels like the scariest thing in the world. Death would be much easier. But talking about it, admitting that it is happening, is a really key part of my recovery. That is the other reason my illness lives in a closet. Even now, when I'm in a pretty good place with my mental health, admitting to this inability to speak is frightening. Because that depression is still whispering to me from the back corners of my brain "What if somebody reads this and holds you accountable? What if they make you name me?"

There is something... almost comforting about having depression. It's like a companion for life that I know will never leave me. I can always count on it to be around; can't count on much else! Maybe you've heard of depression described as a little black dog. It's an apt analogy for that sense of companionship - for better or worse - that comes with living with mental illness. I mean, it's quite an active thing to manage. Even when my mental health is in good shape, I've got to be constantly aware of how I'm caring for myself, how I'm feeling, looking for warning signs that a depressive episode is coming on, thinking about what I need to do to maintain my mental health.

It's a job, for which my labour is both unpaid and unrecognised, but constantly expected. It is a job that if I don't do I will be punished for. Though I won't be rewarded for the work when I do it, because apparently living without the black plague of depression immediately hanging over me is reward enough. It's really not.

This is the problem with these mental health awareness campaigns. They offer nothing of substance to those of us going through the daily slog of existing with mental illness. They don't offer up any sort of structural change for how the world works, how it is organised in ways that actively penalise those who, for a myriad of reasons, are disadvantaged (as in, those who are not able bodied neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual middle class white men). Side bar: it needs to be stated here that those who are disadvantaged are not equally disadvantaged. The disadvantage some people experience is so minor that, really, they should probably just take a seat (white feminism, I'm looking at you). For others, the disadvantage they face is so extreme that they deserve a fucking medal for getting out of bed and facing the world.

I am going to discuss some of the ways in which I have been, and continue to be, penalised by society for having a mental illness. Now again, I need to state that my experience of mental illness comes with a lot of privilege. Like, as bad as shit sometimes gets, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be fine. That is a luxury and I am aware of it.

It took me about 7 years to finish my PhD because I couldn't manage working on it full time. My self-care necessitated that I slow down, but I didn't exactly have the space to do that. Partly because of my intense unwillingness to discuss being unwell when I'm unwell, but also because of practical restrictions relating to my visa. It's almost impossible to be granted a student visa in Australia when you're enrolled part-time. I think it is technically possible if you have health conditions and letters from doctors, but, having the kind of health condition that makes you unable to study full time is not going to be looked upon favourably if you are planning on later immigrating. On top of that, I often couldn't suspend my candidature when I had a major depressive episode (and I had many during my PhD) because then I wouldn't receive my scholarship money, and then I wouldn't be able to pay my rent. Which, it should go without saying, would make my mental health issues drastically worse.

Of course, PhD scholarships don't last for 7 years, so this meant I had to take out loans. A lot of loans. And now I am straddled with a crippling amount of debt. As many, many people have pointed out to me, this is not a unique phenomenon for people in my age range. Arguably though, my debt load is tad higher than my Australian cohorts. And now that I have entered the mandatory repayment period, managing my mental health isn't optional. If I don't keep my shit together, if I can't get out of bed and go to work, I won't be able to afford to live.

Going into academia adds extra challenges onto this. At the moment I am jumping from casual job to casual job, with my workload literally changing from week to week. There is no stability in my current situation, so I have to make sure I do a damn good job whenever work comes my way so that I can build good networks and keep the work coming in. But on top of that, in order to advance into a more stable job, I need to publish. On my own, unpaid time. On top of working as many paid hours as I can possibly manage. And then once I get into that position, the expectations placed on my workload will increase exponentially. I have no idea how that will work seeing as this doesn't come with some sort of magical ability to traverse time.

I am not asking for or interested in your pity. I am making choices about how I want to live my life and I am aware of the challenges those choices contain. (There are also some clear benefits to working in academia, like the ability to work from home, in my pyjamas, at whatever hour suits me. The pay is pretty decent, really. And I get to do what I love, mostly.) I don't exactly know how I'll deal with those challenges, but, I'm leaving that in future Joni's capable hands. The point of telling you all that is to highlight how fucked up managing life with even mild depression and a whole lot of social privilege is.

There are different takes on mental illness and agency. Some people say their mental illness makes them unable to make rational choices, other people say they are not their illness and are responsible for the decisions they make. I think the reality for most of us is that the interplay between controlling and being controlled by our illness is more complex.

Last year I wrote about the culmination of events in my life that had occurred over the preceding 2 or 3 years that left my mental health and general well being reeling. When I wrote that, I felt like things were finally turning around, like I was turning over a new leaf and on my way to a better life. Instead, things got worse. Or, bad in a different way. I don't know. But 32 was a particularly shit year. Most of it was spend in depressive episodes, some minor, some major, all awful.

The thing is, when my mental health is in a good place, I can maintain that. I can sense when I'm starting to slip into a bad place and adjust things in my life to help stop the depression from coming on. When I'm in a good place with my mental health, I control my illness. But, we can't control life. Sometimes things happen that prevent me from engaging in my usual self-care strategies. Like having no money and being really fucking stressed out about it.

But also, sometimes things happen and I decide not to take care of myself. Because depression is slippery like that. It whispers at you to just let things slide, to take the easy route for a change. And considering how hard and how fucking draining it is to constantly be actively maintaining good mental health, the temptation to just, say, have a pint of icecream for dinner instead of cooking for myself can get very strong! Then before I know it, the idea of eating food seems awful and I can't bring myself to cook and the only thing I can stomach eating is icecream, and hey, here come those 40 kilos I worked my ass off to lose. And aren't I just a fat sack of shit who can't even manage to cook a fucking stirfry? And then hey, guess who's back!

The older I get, the more I know about the world, the less able I am to convince myself that feeling like I'd be better off dead is ridiculous. Instead, it becomes about facing that as a truth and living anyways. Finding joy and happiness and meaning anyways.

So, yeah, let's talk about mental health. But let's do so in a way that acknowledges the lived realities of those of us who have mental illness, instead of in a way that panders to those that don't. Let's talk about how the world needs to change. Let's talk about the structural barriers that create systematic oppression, that make living in the world an act of willfully subjecting oneself to violence. Let's talk about what it would be like to recognise life is awful, in a meaningful way. Let's talk about how we can open up space, as a society, to let people breakdown. Let's talk about how we can support each other, collectively, so that we are not forced into maintaining abusive relationships just to survive. Let's talk about the courage it takes to get up every day and face your demons, knowing those demons will never really go away. Let's talk about those who have not been able to continue that fight and remember them and honour them for how hard they tried. Let's acknowledge that sometimes giving up that fight is the only reward we'll ever get for being in it in the first place.

The Seance 2.0

I've recently started to re-engage with my PhD data. Unlike how I usually describe it, my PhD is probably best summarised as looking at the ethics of relationship negotiation within new media environments. While my research wasn't looking at my life, my life certainly looked at my research! Going back to that data, while being single and occasionally submitting myself to the torture of dating, has got me thinking. About ghosting.

For the unfamiliar, ghosting is the practice of seemingly disappearing into thin air. It usually happens before people have even met; you're chatting away to someone on a dating app and then suddenly they just disappear. Or they just stop replying to your messages. It also happens in the early stages, where after going out on a date or two contact suddenly stops. But really, it can (and does) happen at any stage of a relationship. All of a sudden, somebody just disappears.

To be clear, I am not against ghosting. I have experienced it plenty of time, both as the ghoster and the ghostee. It is certainly not the ideal way to end contact with someone, but seriously, when do people actually behave ideally?

New media technologies (which is an awful term... they're hardly new, but anyways, it's the one I'm sticking with for now) have not so much changed the types of relationships people have, but have created a hypervisibility and contactability. And this has at least changed the potential ways people can engage with each other.

The phenomena of ghosting is hardly new. People have been fucking off without saying a word forever, so let's not start with the whole "OMG kids today don't know how to interact like proper people" bullshit. I mean, hello, the whole "He just went down to the shop for a bottle of milk" trope. What is new is the potential to conduct digital surveillance upon one's ghost.

I could talk about the ethical implications of this, the ways in which people could behave to achieve some sort of idealised niceness around the awkwardness of ending relationships, in their various guises. I won't. Because, post PhD, current living in the actual world of being a single woman, I don't believe promoting an ideal is the way to go.

The other night I had drinks with a friend who is also using Foucault's later work in his PhD. We had what was for me a very liberating conversation about Foucault's neoliberalism. We acknowledged that, at the end, he turned to neoliberalism. Not as a wholehearted embrace, but as something which could be queered and co-opted into leading an ethical life.

The downside of this, which came out in my PhD findings (probably not as eloquently as I would like) is that the ethical framework he describes can be used in hugely unethical ways. When you develop this acute understanding of how power operates within your interpersonal relationships, you're faced with this red pill/blue pill situation. Do you use this knowledge to promote equality within your relationships, or do you use it to get what you want? That choice is up to the individual, and while Foucault is often said to be encouraging the even distribution of power, I think the reality is more complex than that. I think he was maybe a bit more OK with letting the world burn than is usually discussed. But that's a rather undeveloped critique best left for another forum another time.

As the night continued, my friend and I discussed our various experiences of dating and the complications that arise in negotiating relationships and feelings and that desire to not be a dick. And, of course, how to manage the situation when the other person turns into a dick. For me, this is where that desire not to promote an idealised niceness comes in. This is where I see Foucault with his matchstick burning shit down.

There is a huge discourse surrounding dating etiquette, in general, and a growing body of opinions/advice on how to deal with dating in new media environments. But telling people what to do is not the answer. People deal with shit differently, and saying things like "cyberstalking your ex is unhealthy and you are bad at doing breakups" is really unhelpful. Who is this person who is good at doing breakups? A sociopath?? Breakups are shitty and awful and they hurt, and there is no reason why being ghosted by someone you've never met should hurt less than the end of a long term relationship. Life is not linear or simple and the idea that we should all just be nice is ridiculous.

Despite my actual, certified recognition as an expert on relationship negotiation, I am constantly turning to my friends any time I have to deal with negotiating pretty much any aspect of a dating type relationship. Because there is no rule book; nor should there be. How people relate to one another is going to be unique to the context of that relationship and trying to fit it into some external framework is only going to cause everyone involved grief. That much I can put my stamp of expertise on.

Recently, I've had a lot of contradictory advice given to me, and this is why I think it's problematic to promote some sort of standard of how people should interact with one another. It is easy to get lost in these discourses about what you should and should not do. I found in listening to all these other voices that I was both losing myself and losing sight of the context of what I was negotiating. I was getting caught up in these external judgments (which may or may not have actually been happening) over how I was behaving. I was ignoring what my own needs are and how best, for me, to meet them.

How we use new media technologies, individually, in our negotiations of relationships is going to produce different things for different people in different contexts. There is no magical singular way to behave that will mean everyone is nice to one another and nobody gets hurt. And one person's strategy for mitigating the hurt they cause to somebody might actually be perceived as quite harmful by somebody else. The best we can do is engage authentically with ourselves and those around us, and, because we can't avoid hurting people, be accountable for what we do.

This brings me to the seance, which I am defining as the attempts at contacting someone who has ghosted you. Again, I place no judgement onto the seance, or onto the ghost's response or lack there of. Because while there is a need to be accountable to the person you've hurt, that need does not come at the expense of yourself. It's a tricky thing, negotiating that desire not to be a dick with what can sometimes be a legitimate need to be kind of a dick. I don't think there is a right or wrong way to manage this conflict. At the end of the day, you're the one who has to live your life. You're the one faced with the consequences of your actions. So you're the one who gets to choose.

I cannot overstate how much I am saying there is no overarching right or wrong here. The only advice I'll give is this: think your actions through and do what's best for you.

Death or Marriage

When I was a little kid I thought that getting married and having kids was inevitable. That it was just the natural progression of life and there wasn't really anything you could do about it.

When I was a little kid I was severely depressed.

As I got older I gradually became aware of feminism and queer politics and realised that those things are choices that I didn't have to make. A huge weight was lifted from my shoulders.

Now, single and childless in my 30s, I understand why those things are presented as the cornerstone of adulthood.

Existing as a single person is hard! And it gets harder with age.

We live in a society that is geared toward coupledom. Particularly economically.

Having just completed a PhD, I am acutely aware of how our social systems disadvantage single people. I did not have a partner who's income I could rely upon to help me afford my basic needs when I needed to focus on studying, or when funding for casual research staff was slashed. Fortunately, I had family who where willing to help me out with loans. Unfortunately, this means I am now saddled with debt and am not in a better economic position now that I'm working.

When I am sick, I have to take care of myself. Because I am casually employed, taking sick days means not making money. Because the nature of what makes me unwell is not covered under MediCare (which I have only recently qualified for) taking time off work makes it harder for me to access the care I need to get better.

Then there are the more luxurious things, like travelling and going to cafes. Booking accommodation as a single person often means either paying double what a couple would pay, or staying in cheap accommodation like a hostel (a compromise I am less and less willing to make). Tomorrow is Sunday and I would very much like to go out for Sunday brunch with my computer. Which raises the inevitable problem: what do I do if I have to pee? Should I take it with me to the toilet? Will it be OK if I just leave it there? Are the cafe staff going to be too busy to notice if somebody nabs it? Can this person sitting by me be trusted?

My point is, our society is structured in both formal and informal ways that encourage us to pair up and take responsibility for one another. Like a buddy system, with benefits. This is a large part of why my BFF and I are moving in together, again; it will give us both something of a safety net.

I think it is problematic that our society requires this buddying up. It creates greater marginalisation for those people who, for whatever reason, don't have a buddy to share the social burdens with. Like, full stop, I think we need to completely restructure society and that anything short of a complete dismantling of the system is not going to produce equality (and even then it is likely to still be flawed).

But the more addressable problem is, this societal buddy system privileges certain types of buddies over others. Specifically, it privileges those buddies who are married over everyone else. So yes, congratulations same-sex couples in America, you can now enjoy the privileges of this elitist buddy system too!

Queer resistance to heteronormativity was my saviour. It showed me that a different world was possible, and that there was a place where my difference fit in. Watching the push for 'marriage equality' feels like a slow death to me. Marriage does not make us equal. Marriage tells us that we should conform to a system that basically shits on everyone who is not a white cisgendered man with money.

It is a complex issue and I have engaged in many conversations with my fellow queers about why it is important and what it produces. And I absolutely take the point the marriage allows access to rights that are not otherwise available to couples (even defacto couples, especially around migration). I also completely recognise that marriage has individual importance to some people's personal histories that it doesn't have to me. And while on the one hand I don't want to take away your right to express your buddied up love in this particular way, on the other hand I do. I want to take away the legal rights that are entitled through marriage so that those rights can be accessible to everyone, not just those who, for whatever reason, choose to conform.

Marriage erases other types of relationships, yes, but it particularly erases single people.

Being single is seen as a liminal state; as something that we transition out of and into over our lives. It is not seen as a valid state for a person to choose to stay in. Not in the long run, anyways. Single people are constantly met with a barrage of messages about how they should not worry as someone will come along eventually (like we're stuck on the side of the road with a flat tyre), peppered in with messages about how they should work on themselves to be more open and receptive to that love when it does come around (don't fuck it up!) What it boils down to is this: being single is not natural or normal. (As a quick aside, it boggles my mind that being in a couple is seen as the normative state of things, when we have always existed in communities.)

For me, throughout my adult life, being single is what feels most comfortable and right. It is where I feel safest and most at peace with myself and my life. I am tired of being told that this means I have some deep seated psychological issues that I need to work out. I am tired of being told I just haven't met 'the right one'. I am tired of having my experiences silenced and erased.

This love that people talk about experiencing when they pair off, this has not been my experience of relationships. My relationships have involved two people tolerating each other being awful to one another, to varying degrees and for varying amounts of time. They have meant constantly being told that I need to change - change myself, change who I am in a relationship with, change my outlook on life - in order to make things work.

I do not need to change.

I know that I am a devisive, strong-headed, bossy, outspoken, bitch of a person. And I also know that I have an incredible group of friends who accept me for who I am, even when they don't like me/what I'm saying/how I'm saying it. So no, I do not possess some inherent flaw that makes it impossible for me to attract loving, supportive, accepting relationships.

And no, I do not simply have to wait around for this magical person who will love me as the imperfect being I am to come and swoop me off my feet. People come into (and sometimes out of) my life all the time that love me for exactly who I am. Why should the connections I form with these people be deemed lesser than marriage-types of connections?

So this is why I am not rejoicing. Why I am being a pain in your asses. Because society continues to say that your relationships are more better than mine/the lack of mine. Because we live in a society where you can ask your partner to watch your stuff while you go to the toilet and I cannot just trust that my shit won't get stolen because we have developed a community of care and respect. Because queer issues expand beyond the boundaries of coupledom.

I would like to acknowledge that this piece is self indulgent. There are much more pressing issues in the fight for equality than the recognition that being single is a valid lifestyle choice (for the long haul, not just while we lick our wounds from the last relationship). But this is how I, personally, am negatively impacted by the push for marriage equality.

I think it is entirely possible to reorganise the way we distribute and reward rights and privileges so that it doesn't centre around marriage, but around individual choice and community. But the more we buy into marriage as a panacea for social inequality, the harder it gets. I hope I'm wrong; I'd love to be wrong. I'd love to see a queer revolution sprout from the rainbow aftermath of marriage rights, a revolution that dismantles the system from within.

But I don't think that is going to happen. Not when Jennicet Gutiérrez was shushed and booed for speaking up about the rights of trans immigrants at an LGBTQ Pride event. And not when I can't leave my laptop unsupervised in a cafe when I go to the toilet.