Sad

Is there anything more unattractive than a sad person?

Probably. When I was in high school I thought I might be more attractive if I was sad. It turns out I wasn't. But then I saw another guy who was really sad, and the girls seemed to eat that up. So the lesson learned was that sad people are really unattractive, when they were unattractive to start with, and sad people are pretty hot, when they're good-looking.

So I guess the real lesson learned was that there was no lesson learned.

I'm feeling pretty sad right now. "Why are you sad, Ben?" I hear you not ask, because seriously, you have your own lives to live. I often find myself thinking "nobody cares" but I think it with a sort of philosophical acceptance, because the fact that nobody cares is no reason to assume that anyone should. Sadness is a pretty first-world problem, I think. I'm writing a blog about it presumably because I crave attention and sympathy, but let us frankly admit that I don't deserve attention and sympathy. If you're giving me any, I've sort of conned you a little bit.

It's hard to say, when you're sad, whether it's sadness or depression. Saying you've got depression is dangerous, because it is a declaration that there is no good reason to be depressed. But there are lots of good reasons to be depressed. Read a newspaper. Or read a blog post about how soon you won't be able to read a newspaper. Or just think about your own life. See? Reasons galore.

I have plenty of reasons to be sad, ranging from the fact that the world is a huge horrible place full of death and injustice and misery, to the fact that I got unfriended on Facebook by someone I really like. So I'm running the gamut here, is what I'm saying.

But if I'm sad for genuine, real-world, external stimuli, then the obvious response is hey, count my blessins, cheer up, look on the bright side, come on, if you will, get happy. Sadness is not really a problem, per se, it's just an inconvenience, and half the time - or more - it's just me being melodramatic. Or, since you're probably just the same, it's YOU being melodramatic. So you know, snap out of it guys, stop being so much like me.

But if I'm sad because of the freaky chemicals in my head going weird for no reason, then that is depression, and it is an illness. Which means the solution is to go see a therapist and/or take my pills. So there's no call for me to go looking for that human touch, because I'm depressed, you see, and depression is a medical problem, so it needs to be treated, and it's really nobody's problem.

So if I'm sad, it's not really serious. And if I'm depressed, it's too serious for anyone to reasonably engage with.

So what I'm looking for is some kind of middle-ground between "count your blessings" and "take your pills", where the reaction is "let me tell you how much I love you, give you a hug, and come watch DVDs and eat cake with you".

Yeah, wanting people to hug you is a pretty first-world problem, but knowing that doesn't make hugs any less nice.

I guess what I'm saying is: being sad sucks and I don't know what to do about it besides write rubbish on the internet, but if you want to give someone a hug and buy some cake today, I say go for it.

Now here's a picture of baby tigers.

Bye Bye Sort Of

A somewhat sad blog post today, just a kind of public service announcement.

I urge you to go and read my latest weekly wrap for ABC's The Drum. Of course, I always like you to read my pieces, but this one is particularly special because it's my last weekly wrap; the Drum and I are parting ways.

No, this is not of my choosing. I loved writing for The Drum, and I will be forever grateful to my editor Jonathan Green for letting me ramble on the site, and likewise grateful to everyone who read my little jokings. I've enjoyed doing it for the past almost-a-year.

Sadly, though, the realities of tight budgets, tough decisions and the glorious uncertainty of being a freelance writer means I've been let go. That's life.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you'll still frequent The Drum, as it's a high-class site that deserves your eyeballs.

Of course I am not disappearing by any means. I'm still in the Age's A2 section writing about TV every Saturday, and of course the return of newmatilda.com has seen me stomp that old ground again. Check out my first for the new newmatilda.

And if you want to see newmatilda survive past the end of 2010, do throw some money their way - you'll be rewarded by continuing fine articles, including mine! Go here to find out how.

And I'm sure I'll be popping up elsewhere too - it's in my nature!

The weekly wrap's gone, but the caravan moves on.

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun

Blanche is gone.

She came out of the deep south to bring us a message.

A message of hope, and of love, and of the joys of middle-aged promiscuity.

Without her, the 80s would have been nothing but biting sarcasm and rustic idiots.

With her, it also had a bunch of sex jokes.

She knew the fine line between having a good time and being a wanton slut, and how entertaining that line could be.

But in the hands of Rue, the character of Blanche Devereaux was more than just a brazen sex-crazed hussy. She was a mother, and a friend, and an art gallery employee apparently, although evidence for this was scant.

A piece of the 80s just slipped away, and we are poorer, wearier, and sadder for it.

Farewell, Rue. I will think of you whenever I think about the irresistible sexuality of 50-year-old women.

Which is, let's be honest, a hell of a lot.

Damn

So you have probably heard by now that New Matilda has been terminated. As of June 25, it will be no more.

This, quite naturally, makes me very sad. Of coruse it's not nearly as great a blow to me personally as it is to the newmatilda.com team, who've worked like trojans on the site and now find themselves out of work. But it's still terribly disappointing for me, because it's a site I've been writing for since 2007, the first place to publish my work, and I think the home of the best humour writing I've done.

As I am quoted saying in Crikey (and also, for some reason, at Tim Blair's blog, where I was shocked and wounded to discover that Blair fans don't know who I am), nobody would know my name if it weren't for New Matilda. If you're reading this blog, it's probably because of New Matilda. Were it not for their willingness to give a slab of space to a nonsense-spouting non-entity, there's a good chance my writing would still be exactly nowhere. Of course I'm still pretty obscure, but without NM I wouldn't be that.

And so it's a depressing time for me. There's loads of stuff being written now about the implications for independent and online media, and it may well say something about the future of the media. New Matilda just couldn't make any money out of its model, because online advertising is simply not a big moneyspinner, even if a lot of people are reading. Maybe the Crikey subscription model is the only one with a chance of working; but if that's the case, will any new outlet have to ape Crikey to get anywhere?

In any event, there's no doubt that this is the passing of a little piece of alternative, thoughtful, analytical Australian media, and I do think it's a great shame. NM was something different; it gave voice to little-heard views and unknown writers (like me) and it was a noble counterpoint to mainstream media commentary.

(Some are holding out hope New Matilda can be saved; I doubt it can in its present form, but I do hope that maybe the name and the ethos can be continued somehow.)

But it's soon to be gone, and I suppose we will all move on. Thank you to all those who read my and others' work on newmatilda.com; I hope you'll keep supporting independent media, and see the NM battalions fighting on new battlefields in future. No doubt there'll be more to say before June 25; and I do hope you'll keep reading up until then.

As for me, watch this space.