I have been awake almost the whole night trying and failing to fall asleep. Normally it would be a case of sleep not Macbeth, Macbeth doth murdered sleep but not this time. Finally gave up on sleeping around 6am and just been reading in bed but even my book is really shit. Had a really fun night out actually, apart from finding toothpaste dried in my hair this morning probably from when I tried to brush my teeth and climb into bed last night but the night itself – was awesome.


Had a pretty relaxing Friday at work and then went to Melbourne Central to grab a burger from Grill’d (omg New Zealand you need to get it please) and ended up seeing Hugh Jackman and Peter Dinklage at Melbourne Central going to the Premier of Xmen ermagaaaaard. Burger was pretty amazeballs and had some recordalig before heading to Asian Beer Café which had very very cheap cocktails. I’m not surprised there so many students go there.


Had a pretty fun night hanging out with work peeps and then got the train home and saw my landlady sneaking in as well LOL. Slept till 3am and after a very drunken phone call from a friend I couldn’t get sleep and planned things in my head scratched off my nail polish and chatted with other nocturnal creatures on facebook till morning.


Lots to do this weekend incluuuding maybe getting my nose pierced eeek. I never thought I’d do it cos its so fresh tbh but suddenly I’m liking the idea. Also going to cut my hair when winters over and dye it red so why not get my nose pierced to go with it tehe. Gonna hurt like a biaatch and I hope I don’t sneeze too much in the next week but lets see lol.


And now it’s finally 8am and I can pretend to wake up at a reasonable time like a normal person on a Saturday morning and watch Suits and eat eggs yayness!

it felt like spring



I feel like I’m the only one who really sees the leaves. The reds and yellows, warm pinks and bright orange hues of autumn leaves and vermillion sunsets almost make me sigh out loud it’s so beautiful. I can’t help walking down the street and just breathing on those cold mornings, the fireplace colours in the trees an oxymoron to my breath making smoke rings in the air.


Isn’t it crazy? That I could be the only one who sees all that. I think I feel too much and see too much because the thought that it’s just me, and only me, who wants to spin with outstretched arms and throw my head up to the sky and bask in that kaleidoscope of colour, is just…shocking. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes at the thought that in this too, I am alone.


It felt like spring the other day. Like winter had passed and everything was coming to life again but in the colours of autumn. I wish I could invent my own season, like crossing a lion and a tiger to make a liger, I could make autring or spritumn. Animals come out of hibernation, cows graze in sunlight meadows, and yet trees still shed red red leaves and bow their orange heads at night like ranga dreadlocks on a green green golliwog.

It felt like spring the other day. I strolled out of work in a warm green dress with a bright pink scarf and my tan wedge heels and felt like I was living breathing photosynthesizing in the sun. The earth reached up through my ankles and swaddled my thighs and torso and pushed leaves and branches up through my arms and hair, tendrils of jasmine and peonies laced through my black hair.


It felt like spring the other day as I drank green tea and laughed like I was happy and for the first time, in a long time I was okay.


“Never Love a Wild Thing”




“There was once a very lovely, very frightened girl. She lived alone, except for a nameless cat.”


Yes that’s right. I just watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s for the zillionth time. It’s amazing that the man who wrote In Cold Blood, a novel based on the murder of a family of five, could also write one of the most poignant love stories of all time. Truman Capote succeeds in bringing to life a wild untameable girl, neither Luna Mae or Holly, she is constantly searching for someone or some place, but always runs into herself. She is the cage that she runs from and when she meet’s Paul Varjack, that real life person who makes her feel like Tiffany’s, she’s so afraid she almost throws it all away.


I can’t decide which I like more, the book or the movie. I’m something of a Breakfast at Tiffany’s groupie. I even have a picture of Audrey Hepburn in her little black dress on my coffee mug that my friend Walter made for me. It’s surprising sometimes, when people know you so well. If I found a man, who made me feel like Tiffany’s, I wouldn’t wait, for a plane ticket to Brazil, or a court hearing for Uncle Sal or even for the 8th Richest Man in America under 50. I wouldn’t wait until I’d almost lost him because men like Tiffany’s are awfully hard to come by. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever met one yet….I often think I do but then they’re just plain old rocks not diamonds.


I might be a hopeless romantic that cries every time Holly calls for her cat in the rain, and picks up that no-name slob and tucks it into her beige trench coat in the rain with tears streaming down her face. But if Holly Golightly can be found, can belong, both her and her cat without a name, then maybe so can I. If someone so determined that she won’t belong can find that she does in fact belong to someone and somebody then surely, a girl who is quite happy to done with the mean reds and give a cat a name is not a hopeless case.


The reason I like Breakfast at Tiffany’s so much, is because both Holly and Paul (Fred baby) were owned by money and their belief that they could be slaves to it and ruthless in their will to attain it. Whether it was fifty dollars to go to the Powder room or three hundred dollars from the decorator you sleep with, they used their youth and their beauty to further themselves. But while Holly believed she could exist in this selfish – or selfless depending on how you look at it – state of being, Paul was much more self-aware and saw that he loved Holly. That people belong to people. That he loved her and that he mattered. And Holly could pretend that she thought he was just another rat or super rat but he knew that deep down she really cared about him. I want to be that girl sitting on the fire escape with a towel wrapped around my hair playing Moon River and singing softly and dreaming of the future.


And I might not look quite so graceful in a little black dress with pearl earrings, smoke billowing out of my pouting lips, eyes arched over high cheekbones, but dammit I try. I’m a mess at best, but I’m a mess in a dress that is honest and I take risks that I could suck on like a Tim Tam slam. I want a man who will eat cracker jacks with me and steal animal masks from the 2 Dollar shop. I once knew a boy who wore animal masks with me at Auckland Museum and we raced around the Natural History section hiding from each other and scaring the other people it was hilarious. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to knowing what it’s like to be at Tiffany’s but I know that I can hope for more. I want a man who will tell me what I’m too afraid to see and let me be the best that I can be without taming the child in me that runs wild on the moor. I’m Cathy and Heathcliff all at once and this may not be Tiffany’s or The Heights but I’m still looking. Always looking.




The Bluest Eye


I’ve been standing in trains and sitting in bus stops reading The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison over the last couple of weeks. I read Beloved a few years ago and it has always haunted me with its poetic mythical quality and the underlying knowledge that it is based on a true story. The story it is based on may have been the story of many black people but specifically it is about a black mother who runs away from the plantation with her children and after days of running she realises that the slave master has finally caught up with them and will take them back to a life of slavery and break down whatever humanity they have left. Faced with the prospect of her children being returned to a life of drudgery she kills them herself, rather than let them be taken away to be a white man’s slave.


The Bluest Eye is equally haunting and tells the story of a young girl called Pecola who like her peers is raised in a confusing time when children hear whispers of stories and are never told the whole truth. They are raised as if they were born old yet they never really grow old until their innocence is robbed from them and then they see what it is to be a child. For to be a child in a time like that was to have no rights except to dream and even that was with fear and loneliness. While other children like Pecola fought through the soot and grime of their upbringing and found the sun like straggling weeds growing through the cracks in the sidewalk, Pecola did not. For Pecola wanted the bluest eyes and unlike the other children, she had no one to tell her she did not need them. How does a child hate themselves so much and believe they are so inferior that they would rather look like an alien creature with beautiful black skin and blue eyes? But some child did. A real child once said that to Toni Morrison when she was a girl and so she wrote this for all the Pecola’s out there.


While other fathers went after the men who touched their little girls with shotguns, Pecola’s father raped her in her kitchen, her hands still soapy from the dishwater and when she passed out he covered her with a blanket. Her little 12 year old belly grew round with her fathers child and she wished and wished for blue eyes so that people might look at her and think that she was beautiful. How does a child embody that ugliness so deep within themselves that they stand constantly tense, their head cocked as if waiting for that blow that is to fall at any second. How does a child find their voice trapped within their throat because they are so afraid to speak lest their ugliness be witnessed, so afraid to grow with eyes that are black instead of blue.


Here’s to the fathers that take out their shotguns. To the men that watch that little foot scratching the other, and think not of showing their little girls just how much they love them but protecting them from the bastards that want to. To the women like Mrs Breedlove, who didn’t have the courage to leave, or the strength to protect her daughter from the monster she chose for her own fate, your crime was not that you failed to see what was happening before your very eyes, but that you let your daughter believe she was worth nothing with her beautiful black eyes. You have no right to be a mother to the Pecola’s in this world or any other. 

Autumn Leaves



In the last month, I found my way and lost it again, became a child for a week, and got on a plane 4 times in 6 days. Waiting for my family to come, I read copiously, devouring books and movies, emptying my fridge and cleaning my house with eagle eyes watching for what mother would see that I was happy to ignore. It was a wonderful 10 days and a desperately needed break, a time to pause and take stock. I had a lovely pre-easter weekend with my Eggs girls Shruti and Fedora and their friends Kshipra and Harshani, went shopping, Pancake Parlour and a house party at someones house. Haven’t had a good night out in ages so it was really good to be out and dance to old school music. Also went to Pappa Rich finally and (window)shopped at H&M but was a bit disappointed at the choice of clothes there.


After an interesting night at work Drinks at Fathers Office on Maundy Thursday I went home, set my alarm for 3.45am and crashed like a sack of Potatoes. I started reading Plain Truth by Jodi Picoult at the airport and even the story of an Amish girl accused of murdering her new born son didn’t stop me from falling asleep on fellow passengers on the plane. Then I watched Last Vegas and listened to music and slept some more before arriving in sunny, sleepy Perth. Although it was easter weekend and yea everyone leaves the city ya dee ya dee ya…the city was unreasonably dead. At 10 o’clock on a public holiday yea you could expect it everyone wants to sleep in but by 1pm? 5pm? 9pm? Wtf. It was pureety quiet.


I arrived a few hours before my parents so had a quick shower and then took the free public transport to the Kings Gardens which was beautiful and spent a few hours walking around there, climbing the DNA tour and then came back just before the fam bam arrived. It was wonderful seeing my parents and Denver after 4 months and it was as if no time had passed except Denver went from being bald to being a gollywog again. We went for a walk around the city, went up to the Cathedral which was beautiful and then back to our hotel on St Georges terrace. Then we went out to my Dad’s friends house for dinner and met his family who were lovely. The next day we had an early start with a full day tour beginning with Kangaroo Feeding, patting Koalas and Wombats, a tour of a Lobster Farm before lunch, the Pinnacles Dessert, and then sandboarding before we headed home. We were pretty shocked at all the restaurants being closed when we got back though and struggled to find somewhere to have dinner. The third day we had a day trip to Kings Gardens and Freemantle which was a cute little town with pretty old buildings and cobbled stones. Easter Dinner was at mum’s friend Marian’s house and it was nice meeting all mum’s Vikhroli friends, people we would have met when we were little and sharing stories of our childhood there.


I left early Monday morning for Cairns and had a 2 hour stop over in Sydney where I started and finished reading Boy in the Striped Pajamas. Reached Cairns and it was raining, humid, and I had no trouble imagining crocodiles crossing the road in that dense hot evening. It was 7.30ish and I hadn’t eaten since 7am on the flight to Sydney so I was starving and after ditching my bags in the hotel I hunched my shoulders, picked a road, and started walking. Finally found a Chinese takeaway about 20 minutes away and single-handedly demolished a box of garlic chicken. Went back to the hotel and had the most amazing shower of my life – as anyone who has been to my flat will know, my shower is a hole. The next day we went on the Down under Dive tour, and I was among the few people who didn’t get sea sick on the boat. There were people throwing up left right and centre, including Denver bahahah but alack, I have a stomach of iron tehe.


We went snorkelling in two locations on the reef and saw some amazing colourful fish, I also saw a really pretty transparent kinda fish with different colourful patches on it. Lunch was amazing with lots of different salads, sausages, fish, steak, and prawns. We then had a helicopter ride back to the mainland where we saw the reef from the air. The next day we went the rainforest tour where we took a train ride to Kuranda with some amazing views, saw the waterfalls along the way, explored the Kuranda village, then went for a ride on a WWII army duck through the forest where the guide pointed out the Stinger plant which is extremely poisonous and last killed someone in 1920, turned someone else blind for 5 years as well. After that we had lunch, then saw the aboriginal cultural performance, through boomerangs (mine did not come back) and learnt about the different animal sounds on a Didgeridoo. After that we patted some more kangaroo, saw Koalas, Jack the Ripper a Crocodile, Dingoes, Tasmanian Devil, and Wombats. It was a lovely trip but it was nice to get back to Melbourne and see people and concrete under my feet and cars and horns and traffic.


We spent the two and a half days in Melbourne seeing my flat, going to IKEA, DFO, St Kilda Beach, and visiting family and friends. It was good getting back to work on Monday and to my usual routine after a lovely 10 day break though the weather was a lot colder than I remember it being. But this time round I was heavily armed with supplies of Lemsip, soup packets, vitamins, Panadol, strepsils and throaties from my mum. Ended up buying a Heater on Monday after work for $14 from Big W, such a bargain, and my feet will be stockinged up for work for the next 3 months. I’ve decided to actually take care of myself and not even give my body a chance to get sick so I drink something hot before I go to bed every night whether its soup or milo or just hot water with honey and lemon. Also started doing Blogilates with Bhaveeni which is an easy way to get in your daily exercise because lets face it there is no way I’m ever joining a gym and I’m too cold to go out for a run. Hopefully by December I will actually have the abs I always claim to have but don’t. It’s been a good first week back at work with my awesome BRM Team, and a huge stash of Easter chocolate and The Mindy Project has only made it sweeter 🙂