Author, blogger, green-juice sipper, yoga and meditation instructor
Lisa Portolan is a writer from Sydney, Australia. She has three books published (two under the pseudonym E. Ashby), and often blogs for a number of websites including Elephant Journal, Yoganonymous, Rebelle Society and Mamamia.
She is currently completing her PhD at the University of Technology Sydney (UTS) on ‘happiness-washing and the advertising industry’. She has a MA International Studies, and BA Communications and International Studies from UTS, and has worked in the advertising industry for over a decade.
Lisa is also a yoga and meditation instructor, closet green-juice-sipper and incorrigible dreamer. Check out her website www.lisaportolan.com, or follow her on Instagram @porti82 or Twitter @lisaportolan.
She now lives in Canberra with her daughter, husband (craft beer guru and co-owner of the Pot Belly) and two pooches, Apollo and Juno.
Please note she does not like cardigans.
I've been proposed to, friends around me have been proposed to, I've watched umpteenth proposals on television in romantic comedies and dramas, and never once have I thought to myself: "Gee... This is sexist."
We curate the content of our lives, weeding out the ordinary, boring or too sad bits and generate an actual narrative around our lives. One that gives us purpose and meaning. We have an actual story! It all means something!
If we were manifesting health, or authenticity, a real sense of identity, then I would be all for it. It makes sense, after all, those are the core blocks of life. But instead we're trapped manifesting products and events consumer culture told us we wanted.
I often wonder what makes us deliriously want to consume. Why do we feel the inexplicable urge to purchase a whole heap of po e ions and surround ourselves by them? We buy products and then smear them...
Earlier on this week (let's be honest, yesterday) I made a desperate, last-minute beeline to the post office to send Easter gifts off to my various nephews. Once I got there, I realised I hadn't purch...
The apparel required to attend your average gym class is second to none -- next level sort of dressing. Ladies and gentlemen sashay into the gym like they're walking a gym-centric Versace runway in Milan.
What is most interesting about our compromised personal data, and the key point that Orwell missed, is that we give it up so freely. We fling our data out there like caution to the wind because, who cares right? It's out there anyway.
If Descartes were alive in the 21st century he might have asked: "Do we exist at all if we don't exist on social media?" I click, therefore I am. I post, therefore I am. I don't post or click, therefore I am not.