Emma Louise Purdie

An Open Letter to Tom Marland - food for thought and thought for food (Facebook)https://www.facebook.com/Tom-Marland-food-for-thought-and-thought-for-food-388056525306104/?ti=as  In response to his post made about Climate Change and Bushfire. Firstly, I would like to thank Tom for his work. He is a refreshing, real and honest writer of the facts of life on the land in Australia. His witty, intelligent and well thought out writings are an enjoyable read and oft informative. Today's post about Climate and Bushfire was something that I couldn't quite swallow. Plenty of points I agree with readily, and think it's bloody great he has raised it. But, Tom, mate, let's have a chat about some other information - that in today's totally controlled, and intentionally curated media scape you might be missing out on: with your Algorithms spitting stuff at you geared to your activity, engagements, and your dyed in the wool Liberal/National colours. Let's break it down sh...

So, I am a Traffic Management Designer.  I draw plans for roadworks. Yeah. I didn't sit down with road maps as a kid and go "fuck yeah! This is what I wanna be when I grow up!"... But here we are anyway.  I was angry about it all for a long time, though. Had this shitty metric for career success as being University educated, or Trade Qualified and working in a field I loved.  Two things I have learnt about this, that changed my perception: 1) There is nothing quite like over exposure to something to make you eventually tired of it or bored of it, or even hate it; And, 2)Getting University Education is fucking expensive, and I earn more money than many Grads doing what I do.  Nothing against Uni, but the World needs all types, the thinkers and the doers. I just happen to be both.  So I tried for many years to get through Uni. I have a half started Agricultural Science degree, Business, and Psychology as well. This, unfortunately, was all within the time frame of ...

We all have an internal value system.  The thing that makes us, well, us.  The way you live your life, the choices you make, the actions you take, the way you behave and perceive and even eat... all down to this bad boy. Most of the time, we think we are in control of our values. That we have some kind of say in what we feel is important to ourselves, and what is the truest most authentic form of 'I' at our core. And this is true. While life is easy and our problems aren't significant. But what happens when big things happen and we have to adapt or die? Well, your values will change with or without you. And this is where the ride gets bumpy. Mine have changed against my will/conscious decision several times. But the most readily apparent, recent and obvious choice for an example to you, dear reader, is when I had my daughter. You think you are ready for children. You really do. But you aren't. Nobody is. Then the squalling, pink, attention demanding, exhau...

Yewwww! Spring time! Weather is warming up, which means - beach 🏖️, Barbies, beers and buddies. Some of my best memories are from the warmer months of the year. But this ain't what I am writing about today. No fun shit. Unless you, like me, find cruising on a tractor slashing, seeding, spraying and fertilising a form of fucking mediation. I mean really, I am a parent, anything that gets me on my own is legitimately cherished, and savagely protected. So me and Ol' Yella get some quality time this time of year. Now, I know that my blog is "Utterly Unqualified", but for once, I actually have formal qualifications in something I am going to blather on about. Nothing huge, but I did actually receive an education in this. Did a school based traineeship in Agriculture - Specialising in Horse Breeding. And I started a Bachelor in Agricultural Science at the University of Queensland, but life fucking happened, so I never finished my degree. So here we are, somet...

Yep, I got sworn at by Pauline Hanson. Photo: ABC News. Marco Catalano I was asking for it really, I walked up to her at a rally for Hardwood Timber in Maryborough. Asked her what she was going to do to help the brilliant environmental managers that are our hardwood timber men. These timber cutters and millers are actually some of the most knowledgeable, passionate and skilled environmentalists you could come across. Sounds counter-intuitive doesn't it? Blokes cut trees down, how do they get tagged as Green, Purds? Glad you asked. What little I have learnt from my mates in this industry is as follows: Hardwood isn't grown in those massive state forests you see lining the Bruce Hwy. That's Pine. Hardwood is by and large grown on private property, cattle stations and grazing country. It takes 40 years for a tree to reach a size these fellas want to know about. In that time, the land is carefully managed by the pastoralists, and graziers who want to su...

. . . Man. The amount of times I have thrown myself on the floor wailing. Mentally or literally. "I can't fucking do this anymore" Thanks, Weird Brain. I fucking can. I could. I did. Even when this cock, Weird Brain, went and told me I couldn't. Even when the glass was bone fucking dry. At 13, running barefoot up a Caboolture ghetto street at 1am. Tears streaking across my face. My mother's screams ringing in my ears. My brothers quiet sobbing wrenching my heart. Shards of the smashed of the house phone (pre smart phone days) lodged in my foot. Sprinting for the Phone Box on McKean St. Thanks Drugs. I kept on living. I made it through that day and plenty of shittier ones after it. Frantically walking the floor with my screaming daughter for 10 hours non stop overnight. No help available. Husband at work 6 hrs away. Family 3 hours away. Prior to developing a decent local support network (we only been here 9 years, we aren't "locals" yet). C...

. . . I have a weird brain. My nearest and dearest oft admonish, lovingly, that they "love my brain". When I have heard something in conversation and drawn a parallel to the article in National Geographic, a study or book I read, a podcast I listened to...Things, they  just - snap into place for me. Like a pair of magnets. I am not a specialist. I am a generalist. Not Mensa brilliant; but my grandmother was. Maybe I could be. Never got tested... Who knows. Life never led me to academia - that's my little brothers job - Mr T and his PhD. But what I am, and what I can offer you, dear reader, along with the weird driver of my mind car - is experience. In the general fuckery of life. Let's do a brief overview, shall we? Hold your nose, cause here goes the cold water. . . . I was born in Rockhampton, Queensland, Australia, to a Policeman father and a  horse loving hippie mama. Like Australia's Dani California. Emma Queensland doesn't have the same ring...