It's Not Rocket Science

I am currently in the last, horrible slog to get my postgraduate degree finished (a Master of International Security at Sydney University, if you are curious). Five thousand or so words on the Southern Thailand insurgency stand between me and complete freedom. That said, it’s possible that #MCMadness (my Twitter Marie Claire “review”) may well not happen this month on account of the fact that every time I pick up reading material that is not related to my research essay, I am filled with a terrible guilty fire and am rendered incapable of doing anything other than stare at the wall in a deep panic.

But I am planning future projects! And taking reading suggestions. I have a copy of BUST at home, I was considering writing about that and Ms in a “Hey, Here Are Some Not Completely Ghastly Magazines” sort of way, but we all know that the snark is where the fun lies (not that either of these two august publications are lacking in things to poke fun at - the word “earnest” comes to mind for a start”, as does “seriously, more freaking craft?”). Various people have asked me my opinion of Frankie (“tweeeee” and “Whitest magazine ever” come to mind). And the other day I was in the amazing newsagency near Taylor Square and picked up a copy of Teen Vogue. I’ve also got a few old Dollys and Girlfriends on my watch list on eBay. But anyway, if there’s anything you think could use poking with a stick post-essay, please let me know. But for the next few weeks we’re pretty much just looking at posts of rock stars being awesome.