Emma Louise Purdie

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...