oh, to travel back to you

I don’t think it was a good idea to listen to Augustana’s Boston just before bed because now I’m on a tangent… far, far away from the home-view, longing to return to my beloved second love: the greens of Massachusetts, the soothing, ethereal roads from Montreal down to New Hampshire, the cold puffs of breath as you wander through the avenues of New York City, the remnants of Washington D.C., the clinking of trinkets on dusty Santa Fe….

Can you have such love and affection for things that do not breathe? Can you hold them so deep inside you, longing to caress it with footsteps and breathing in’s?

Oh, I could sigh.

This is a love letter to you, dear cities, dear memories, dear ones.

I could start a new life with you.

…and I will.

Project “Read the Movie”

Quite self-explanatory – I want to read the novels of which many, many movies are based on.
The catch: I must have seen the movies first before I read the novels.

Why? Because I am melodramatic.

A list then…

A Walk to Remember by Nicholas Sparks
The City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau
The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants by Ann Brashares
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott. Fitzgerald*
The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks
The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan
Atonement by Ian McEwan
The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger
The Martian by Andy Weir
I am Number Four by Pittacus Lore
Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton
Coraline by Neil Gaiman
The Silver Linings Playbook by Matthew Quick
The Golden Compass by Phillip Pullman
Stardust by Neil Gaiman
Inkheart by Cornelia Funke
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum
The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas
The Silence of the Lambs+
James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl
A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot
Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie
Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel>
The Bourne Identity by Robert Ludlum
The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick
Watchmen by Alan Moore

I’m going to stop there because the Goodreads list have 45 pages and I’m only on page 5. *sighs* This is one heck of a challenge to start with.

*I half-read a friend’s copy during a private study class oh back when.
+I really probably won’t, to be honest.
>I’m frightened to read this after the movie took me to places I did not dare be taken.

To begin, a tear-jerker:

I’ll make a Goodreads list, don’t you worry, little phantoms. Now, let me enjoy the peace of my beanbag. Landon and Jamie, await!

The Village Idiot, The Steam Train and some potential time-travelling

Today’s magical number consisted of three steaming pirouettes, in motion, alongside the chug chug of an age-old train. There were three ballerinas: one in green, like the other two carnation’s favourite spell of trees up high, down low, and all, all around.

Someone gulped down a Dirty Hippie cup of coffee (chai tea with espresso) while the others broke bread, poached egg, and sampled some dusted sourdough courtesy of every Australian fairy.

My brother once told me that I was born in the wrong era. And when I’m all aboard a steam train of a period before my grandmother, perched up on the ledge, my arms around the bars, cool breeze on my face, excited about every sound the train makes before its departure, I really do feel like I am made for a different era. And I so badly want to have spent even a few years of my life in the 30’s where boys wear top hats and were called men. But I’m mostly for the steam train sound of my childhood: little people lined up in a row, someone pulls on the vanishing train horn, I make the loud noise and altogether now! – choochoo chuggachuggachuggachuggachugga choochoo.

Never forget. Especially for someone who’s never actually been on an actual steam train.

I remotely thought about time-travelling. But who’s got the time nowadays, am I right?

At The Village Idiot Cafe, I pondered many things to do with dreams. Mostly because there were dreamcatchers hanging over our table and it felt like the perfect moment to just list them out. I was distracted by boisterous laughter from two friends, the hissing of the coffee machine, and the chirpy camaraderie between the hired hands. They talked to do with something grungy and credibly normal you cannot help but tune the rest out and slouch on the couch.

And on the way back, after a cuppa choc and bird attacks, I was beginning to be lulled to sleep and I frighteningly wanted to have been because how romantic is it? To sleep on a chugging steam train and you wake up, rub your eyes, and it is 1891, there is a striped circus in your neighbourhood with a huge fanfare, caramel popcorn and top hats!

Hey… that’s a pretty cool basis of the beginning of story ain’t it? I was gonna re-watch some favourite episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine but I may just start writing a story instead. Don’t worry, the protagonist’s name won’t be Bill.

Books to read, Internships, Film scripts and Camp NaNoWriMo?!

I know you will all keep me accountable somehow, one way or another, so here are some things I’d like to accomplish in the next couple of weeks in regards to self-productivity and growth (oh please):

  • Write a review for The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern – I first read this book many years ago and I remember being beguiled and then nothing else. Now, I am a captive again so…
    Expect a review by July 16.
  • Read The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah – because.
  • Light-reading Dante’s Inferno in preparation for the IQ Olympics my brain holds every mid-semester break like a birthday surprise.
  • Write a full short-film script for Der Schmerz
  • Create a tag for my 2016 Screen Futures Summit and Youth Media Festival internship where I know you will all follow me there – I’ll be chirpy, promise.
  • Create an outline for my content curation/production project that’s been begging to be Evernoted.
  • Find out who my cabin buddies are at Camp NaNoWriMo and pity-cry for my plan-less demise before calming tea. Look:
    Screen Shot 2016-06-16 at 9.27.57 PM

    • It even emboldened the 15 days like I’m not already nervous-sweating.
  • Figure out my abundant use of hyphenated words. I’m sounding like a newspeak editor.


X-Men: Apocalypse – Sansa, lemons, four horsemen and who is Jubilee

I didn’t even inhale popcorn while watching this movie, guys. There must be something seriously done wrong or something seriously done right.

(there are no in-betweens….maybe)

  1. Sansa/Sophie/Jean was like looking at a full-bloomed lemon tree knowing that any time now, life’s just about to give you some lemons.
  2. Isaac’s Apocalypse wasn’t as intimidating as I thought he would be but he’s blue and that makes up for it.
  3. The Four Horsemen of Weakness or was it just me?
  4. I never thought Scott to be that cocky for a boy who kept “blinking” at someone else’s girlfriend. The head nod to the joyride made up for it, though. Gotta love my X-Men Evolution.
  5. Who is Jubilee?
  6. What is her significance to the story?
  7. Quiksilver has just replaced vanilla cupcake as my favourite nail colour.
  8. I do feel really bad for Magneto. When will he ever get a break, you know?
  9. Wolverine!……again.

I think this series packed a punch in the introductory sense but it begs the question of are we restarting the X-Men franchise again with this cool new kiddos ‘cause I’m pretty sure I’m all for it? Was Quicksilver killed in The Avengers so that his story is explored more here in the X-Men franchise because I think that’s smart? 

There are many ways to enjoy the “end” of this franchise and that is by believing that it, in fact, will not. With X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014)’s timeline-altering consequences, there is an expectation of character-driven storylines that can involve a hypersexualised Wolverine to a teenaged Jean Grey and a more soulful Scott Summers; Rogue, where’s Rogue? and Nightcrawler in his corduroys cheating on a game of catch me if you can.

I’m a little bit all over the place but I enjoyed it more than my niece and nephew did. Apparently they slept the entire time. Amateurs.

xoxx out of xoxo

feature image c/o

a woman’s éclat, writing scenario

Written at a time I was at a Myer store figuring out whether Lady Gaga’s black liquid Fame was poison. I’ve always wanted to be Mithridates.

Scene: Black tie, event of the century, electric

1st P.O.V (fem)

I wanted to vomit it out. All of it. That suffering swallow of black mollusk tartare, sweetened and honeyed, a spoon of toxic substance. But everyone was looking at me with their epicurean eyes, so, I swallowed. Enough to make me angry at myself, and enough to fill my glass with wine so red, so enticing, it’s blood on my lips. And I saw his smug look, not too far away, and I straightened. Perhaps I could gouge his eyes out instead. 

3rd P.O.V.
It was as black as the polish on her feet. She had left them all black while her fingernails wore a French. Was that vile cuisine French? Please no, she beseeched whomever could hear the dying grumble of her insides. Looking around her, feeling the criticism through their sequinned dresses and black formals, she straightened up. She made sure to do it in an effortless flourish, like calligraphy on parchment. But those eyes. The French one, this one she was sure of. So smug, so conceited, so attractive that it was, in all accounts, heinous. She left a smudge of lipstick on the rim of her glass. Her liquid saviour. She’s going to have to poison him with it.

3rd P.O.V. (male)
It’s her pride, he concluded finally, noticing the discreet glares of those who milled in close proximity of her dying insides. She reigned it in quite effortlessly, really, and he was half impressed. Well, more than really, if he was being generous. He thought perhaps she would run from the establishment in a flurry of red silk hugging every delectable curve… she had done that once. She didn’t though, he guessed that too. Even better, she’s walking towards him and so he set his glass down. Finally, we begin.

feature image c/o

Off to a great start! – the short post

I am awful at keeping up with my blog activity. I could almost punch myself, really. HOWEVER, it is attributed to my nomadic, wandering lifeblood the past year. I haven’t seen the family back home for almost half the year so forgiveness please?

I am excited for 2016 because yes, I will continue the blogging and regale you all with stories and photographs and potential videos of what has been a grand adventure both as a student and a creative soaker. AND, I’ve got tonnes of plans for the New Year, some unexpected arrivals and some planned out and in the process.

What does this master plan include? Potential collaboration with people in the network, internship-finding (me looking for you), and lots of research and learning and revving of engines. It’s gonna be a fantastic year, and after the great student exchange, I feel like I can pretty much do anything!

Brace yeselves!

My first of the Thanksgivings

There’s a noontime quietness that permeated the university that I could only relate to the first days of moving in. You know, those privileged days where you are guaranteed a few days of respite before the thousand other students come thundering in with their giant TV’s and reclining couches.

No one else was in the room, and I allowed the doors to be as wide open as possible, to re-arrange the couches post-Star Wars, pizza, Christmas-oreos-and-milk marathon that went on the night before. I let loose the curtains and pranced around once or twice whilst brushing my teeth. At 4pm, I’ll be heading to my Boston-family home.

To see grandpa and grandma, be greeted by the energetic soul of one Rosie, six and three quarters, beloved uncle and auntie opening up their home…it’s a treat, isn’t it? As a wandering soul, one of sixty exchange students, you don’t get to expect your share of celebrating an authentic Thanksgiving with your local family. But soon the pots were bubbling, potatoes all washed and boiling, Turkey peppered and salted and you get to sit with grandma while you prepare the green beans. You sneak in a bacon or two in-between but no worries, nobody will ever know.

Grandpa tells jokes, little Rosie is the centre of attention and we love every Irish step dance performance she makes certain we all get to savour. Pumpkin pies (better homemade), fresh rolls, brussel sprouts for the first time and it was delish, and great company with Boston accents or Albuquerque fresh.

There was no apocalyptic finish. Only a steady of hum of you go sit down there, you’ve done enough for the day, whilst the other bees buzz around cleanin’ cleanin’. And it does not just end! You get to drive to quirky little towns and be told stories of something magical and fancy, tiramisu as you walk cobbled paths admiring its old age, you get to come home and fry some leftover Turkey and rice pilaf for dinner as you read your friends’ updates about their own little ventures. Oh, and you get to watch Inside Out and laugh as holly goes jolly because you’re fond of its silliness. 

No sooner will you realise the break’s coming end, the work vying for your attention. Finals finals, one whispers, end of the semester, you hate to admit. But not right now. No, no one could think of it right now.

I am thankful, beyond grateful for what was, what could have been, for what is, the now. The family, the love, the joy, the gathering. And turkey. Definitely the turkey.

Don’t skip the cranberry sauce!

Ze brekky club – greasers, judds and the otp

This is for Tash and Meg, they love a good greaser.

The Breakfast Club was lent to me because as I was trying to circumnavigate the world of cult films, I ended up only liking the idea of it (pretentious, I know) and still I sang “Don’t youuuuuu forget about meeee” the Pitch Perfect and I HAVE NO IDEA WHY I WANT TO CRY.

But now I do, when I learn that the scene where they all sit around, discussing their destructive home-lives while the camera pans around them like how your typical 80’s film was ad freakin libbed. Can I not die until I have done this as a future filmmaker?

And then Judd Nelson, who I mistake for Judd Apatow for a simple namesake, and his character Bender; a true greaser, part of the gang, Outsiders, the ex-convict you want to beautifully punch in the face with a happiness spell. (Let’s face it, geeks, you all want to wingardium leviosa his fine booty in your non-siliconed boobaciousness *cough chest cough*). He’s like a spellbound loon and he makes the breakfast in the Breakfast Club.

Andy’s not a sight for sore eyes either if you like your short studs who fall for the gorgeous one whose soul was mistaken to be as black as their previous eyeliner. She just needed the prince and they clicked and I cried seeing them happy, okay, don’t judge meh!

And Bryan’s a sad case of a boy you want to wrap in a towel and suffocate under a bunch of pillows. Make him forget about pressure, make him see beauty, make him see love. Stop telling me he won’t finish a Rubiks cube in less than 5.95 seconds.

The pretty, popular one’s someone you’d like to caption cliché but she was sort of gassy and superfluous and she stuck in with the rest of them quite timidly and I liked it. She fit in but she didn’t, but she did. I saw the tension and the side-eyes. I predicted it but she didn’t quite deliver. I OTP sporty and nail-biter than these two.

In conclusion, I wanted to drown in a pool of their tears, soak it up with a sponge, drain in a bucket and pour out to moisten the plants of their future children’s veggie patches. It’s the #1 high school film in 2006 for a reason.

ps. The iconic Bender punch in the air ain’t even romantic, ladies (and Becca). But I’ll give you a spud for trying.

8 sandwiches out of 10. Spread the word!

‘merican blues – the haps

I am listening to classical music and it is music to my ears. Literally.

I never thought that doing International Film would mean Food and Philosophy and learning how to be a better expository writer and well, a writer in general. And a thinker, also a thinker.

But everything papery is all so very quirky. The ‘merican ventures…it’s been a month and I will never get over how I live on the second-floor of a room so homey (thanks roomies!) that pretty much look like a hotel apartment, when you squint hard enough. There’s a small fridge where I keep a bottle of milk and maybe cold cider for when watching movies for your course because #FILMLIFE4LYF.

I have no signal in my room though, bummer, but the wi-fi is faster than Usain Bolt and America, you do yourself proud in that respect. Australia, you need more working out. Stretch those legs at the free gym that closes 12am everyday here. Seriously. (I may or may not be crying).

But there’s a sense of calm about working alone at night, just you and your computer and heimatfilme and extrapolating its core elements for a Fatih Akin film named Soul Kitchen. I mean, isn’t it appropriate since I just ate a Clif bar?

I hope to blog more!

…if I wasn’t so inundated with readings and the secret introductory Spanish classes I will be taking to surprise my Spaniard/Ecuadorian amigas —