…attempting to look effortless as I struggle to send texts on my shiny new Blackberry Storm2. Instead, I’ve been provided with a painfully embarrassing reminder of just how chubby my little fingers are. Gotta love technology.
…catching up with old friends (both human and figurative)
…singing/cranking really loudly in my car/humming like mad songs from Jersey Boys which my mumma generously took me to see last Wednesday.
…answering phones with my ‘professional voice’.
…having frequent arguments with Excel spreadsheets which struggle to handle text the way I need them too.
It’s always a difficult task when you’ve lived in the same city, in the same house for that matter, for your entire life, to then try and see it from a tourist’s perspective. Sure, I have travelled enough to provide me some small vestige of perspective, but all roads have unfortunately led to the same dismal conclusion: Melbourne ain’t what it used to be in my childhood dreams.
So when someone (like Gill a week or so ago – so sorry it’s taken me such a long time to deal with this topic, we should totally catch up for coffee whilst you’re here though!) asks me what there is to do in Melbourne, rarely do I ever have exciting things initially spring to mind. Which, I acknowledge, is pretty darn pathetic. Especially given that there ARE things which I love to do in Melbourne which just aren’t ‘touristy’ by definition nor entirely specific to the city. But maybe that’s my problem – trying to think like a tourist instead of realising that the things gravitate towards unconsciously may just be exciting to someone else as well.
The one on the corner of Collins and Swanston Streets, where you can cosy up underneath their heaters in Winter and enjoy the sunny people-watching in the warmer months. Close to the Paris end of Collins street, just around the corner from Chanel, of course, the coffee is great, the snacks are divine and it’s one of the loveliest rendezvous spots around. But just make sure you watch out for hungry pigeons who will relentlessly pursue your lunch scraps. Seriously. Read More »
Sometimes I find myself getting a bit intimidated by the whole ‘adult’ thing, looming in my not-so-very distant future. Whilst I’m happy as a clam to tell anyone who’ll listen people that I’m in my final year of my degree, I do so in a somewhat disconnected way. The words come out of my mouth, but I somehow don’t quite realise that this means I have to actually start having some confidence.
So what sparked this miniature crisis of faith? Well, someone had the nerve to ask whether or not I was a writer. And, of course, I respond with “no – I’m more into the organisation side of things”.
This isn’t a complete lie so much as it is my inability to take myself and my ramblings seriously. I mean come on – this is writing here isn’t it? And my work in Maeve is writing and the dozens of press releases I’ve penned (or more typed) for Express Media are technically writing also. And boy, can I write an academic essay. So then, why am I so reluctant to profess to being what I do on a daily basis?
Though my pictures demonstrate a noticable lack of human presence (which definitely wasn’t the case), Hobart was a truly beautiful, quiet and relaxing place – and oh so very different from the hustle and bustle of Melbourne.
Though I reside in the outer ‘burbs, I find myself in and around the CBD almost 5 days out of my 7 day week. Consequently, I have forgotten just how big and city-like Melbourne actually is – being able to walk almost anywhere within Hobart was, on reflection, really nice. As I go from buses, to trains to cars back at home, I’m coming to understand just why I’m so tired all the time. That being said, I’m not sure I’d be willing to give it up. Quite the paradox, ain’t it?
Henry (@designtavern) and decided a few months ago that a holiday was in order. Still struggling to crawl our way back into financial stability after last year’s pricey trip to Japan (totally worth it.), broken down cars, the expensive cost of higher education combined with all those little day-to-day necessities, we needed something cheap and quick to satisfy our urge to get the hell out of Melbourne, albeit only for a short time.
Thus, we are departing for the beautiful (I assume, having never been there before) Hobart, Tasmania.
Whilst most Melburnians make their way up the coast to sunny ol’ Queensland to thaw during the wintry months, we’ll be sipping hot lattes and sitting in cosy cafes down south. Well that’s the plan, anyway. What started off as an escape is now hoping to be the holiday which instills us with the desire to keep on chugging through the uni semesters and inspire some new, fresh and exciting content for our blogs.
Like a writer who goes off to the country house to remember why they became a writer in the first place (not that Hobart’s a country town, but I trust you get the analogy), hopefully inspiration will strike and I will be able to present my findings from this miniature soul search here. Perhaps a postcard, if you’re lucky.
Thousands of people were caught up in the chaos this morning when a large-scale police hunt shut down Melbourne’s main sporting precinct.
High-profile sporting teams and workers at the MCG, Rod Laver Arena and AAMI Park were ordered to stay indoors for more than two hours while heavily-armed police scoured the grounds for a gunman.
Schoolchildren on an excursion to the MCG were also ordered inside, while up to 100 construction workers were forced to shut down their building site and were restricted to their compound.
The transport system also ground to a halt, with trains on eight Metro rail lines forced to stop running through Richmond station.
Sounds pretty scary when you put it that way, doesn’t it! As for me, I was all warm and cosy in the State Library of Victoria when I first heard the news that only 20 minutes AFTER I had gotten off the train, they were being delayed due to aforementioned crazy gunman. I then learned that he was apparently Spanish looking, wearing silver pants and on the loose somewhere around the MCG…then the CBD…and then South Yarra. All of these crucially important information I obtained via Twitter, of course. Read More »
I’m embarrassed to admit that this post is long LONG overdue. I’ve mentioned many times that blogging has been a bit of a journey for me over the past year – trying to find the right niche, the right voice and sustain content during busy periods of uni and work. However, as most bloggers would agree, there is nothing like a blog comment to make a blogger feel like what they’re doing is worthwhile. Read More »
I always get a bit funny at the end of semester. Once I’ve typed that final sentence, proofread that essay just one last time and polished off my bibliography of that final essay, I don’t really know what to do with myself.
What should be a time where I am overwhelmed with feelings of relaxation, instead I find myself somewhat troubled in the same way one might find oneself when you feel as though you’ve forgotten something. It’s like my body goes into shock upon realising that no, I really DON’T have any deadlines looming, I haven’t forgotten to do my assignments nor have I missed a shift at work.
It’s quite a conundrum. Throughout semester, all I am able to think about is all the things I want to do when semester is finished. When semester ends, it’s like I just don’t know where to begin. So, instead, I end up like a cranky toddler who can’t decide what she wants to eat for breakfast.
I’m hoping I can just sleep it off.
Does anyone else ever find themselves in this predicament? When you’ve been looking forward to something just so damn badly that when it finally arrives, you’re left a bit of a mental mess?
They say that imitation is the sincerist form of flattery. Me? I’ve always thought it’s a pain in the ass.
Girl With A Satchel broke the news that the new issue of Marie Claire hits newsstands today. And, like I’ve said before, I’m the kind of loyal magazine consumer who will buy the magazine despite what’s on the cover. But, I have to say, I’m getting really bored of Australian magazines borrowing content – and not just images! – from their US counterparts. Last time this happened, I held my tongue after reading the exact same article from the US magazine in the following month’s Australian issue. But this REALLY makes me mad.
IT’S. THE. SAME. COVER. *rips hair out*
Of ALL the thousands of pictures of SJP, why did they have to choose the SAME PICTURE?? It makes me feel cheated when I go to purchase the issue. You know, that feeling of “didn’t I just pay $17 for this at Borders last month?? Oh, my mistake…”
And the tagline – “Catfights! Close-ups! Clothes!” versus “Divas, Dreams and Dresses” – at least we’re progressing alphabetically, I suppose.
Come on girls, we’re supposed to be better than this.
That image was paid for by the Australian edition and I’m so tired of sanctioning these decisions by passively purchasing the issue and whining about it here. I think it’s time I voice my concerns in a more productive manner. I’ll report back once I’ve worked that out.
My voice has been largely absent from the blogosphere these past couple of weeks. Having been drowned in the Essay Sea, regardless of how many times I added ‘blog!!!’ (underlined aggressively AND, highlighted) to my to-do lists, my thoughts never seemed to get from my head to this little white text entry box. I feel like I’ve been missing a limb. Or trekked all the way to the supermarket for cookie supplies, only to forget the most crucial ingredient.
Regardless, now that my research project is finally made it into the one Word document (huzzah!), I’m 2000 words into the final draft of my second-last essay and I’ve got two weeks up my sleeve for completion of all these assignments, I feel like I can return to my dear old neglected blog without that feeling that my attention should be on more academic pursuits.
This week, like most other beings of the female persuasion, I am super excited about Sex and the City 2. And yes, I know it’s a massive money-making goldmine of product placement. And no, I don’t care that it’s gotten terrible reviews. SATC is a movie for the fans and I am a hardcore one at that.
The first time I watched SATC, my dressmaker mother called me in to see that stunning sparkly dress Carrie wears out to dinner with Mr. Big when he breaks the news of his heart surgery. It was 2004, I was in year 9, 14 years old and arguably far too young to be exposed to the show. But I, like the masses, fell in love. It was so utterly groundbreaking, well written and showcased NYC with aplomb. Having visited the City only months prior to my first exposure, it was like seeing an old friend again in a new, honest light. I then proceeded to collect the DVDs, read all the Bushnell novels and become deeply entrenched in SATC fan culture.
I grew up, through some of the most crucial years of my adolescence (which perhaps I haven’t yet escaped and shouldn’t talk of in past tense) watching this show, learning and laughing from these characters. And reading Harry Potter. And whilst the two remain light years apart, both the books, TV shows and films added something meaningful to my media saturated existence.
Today, I watched my absolute favourite episode of SATC: I Heart NY. It brings tears to my eyes every single time, reminds me why I love the series so dearly and makes my heart yearn for NYC. So poetic, classic and completely and utterly NYC.
When I saw the first film, I had a bittersweet reaction. After all, I’m not in this for the product placement alone – I want those exquisitely written anecdotes and utterly beautiful narrative arcs I first fell in love with. In my first viewing, I felt like the film was lacking in this respect. It wasn’t until I re-watched the film on the plane to NYC that I remembered those feelings of excitement, adventure and possibility. I’ve watched it upwards of 2 dozen times now.
So, I will be there on Thursday morning at 9.30am to view the sequel with my mother, the one who has strived to introduce me to a wide range of beautiful, strong and inspirational woman throughout my 20 years. And hopefully, it won’t disappoint me, their biggest fan.
This week, like most other beings of the female persuasion, I am super excited about Sex and the City 2. And yes, I know it’s a massive money-making goldmine of product placement. And no, I don’t care that it’s gotten terrible reviews. SATC is a movie for the fans and I am a hardcore one at that.
