The perfect Sunday

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New York nostalgia

I can't eat. I can't sleep. My hands, shaking. My heart, pumping as crazily as a love-sick teen's upon seeing their ex, hand-in-hand, with their worst enemy. Yes, it happens! Spiralling downwards at a nauseatingly-fast pace, I am giving in to a disease that once you've caught, you can't shake. Wait. What? No, not it's not what you're thinking; I am suffering from the Travel Bug.

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Viewing the travel photographs both taken by myself and others on Facebook has pushed me further down into a nostalgic pit, trapped and surrounded by memories of places seen and loved, ambitions of where to escape to next. What also plagues my thoughts - for an embarrassingly large part of each day - is one city in particular: I want to kiss it. Marry it. Embrace it. Share a cream-cheese covered bagel with it.

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New York: I love you.

Jelly Beach

It seems apologies are handed out far too frequently on this blog; my lack of presence can be blamed on an insanely busy uni break, being chained to Gosford RSL club - my bad!

Now, it's a wet, overcast Saturday morning in February; my boyfriend has just left for Japan, I am without a fresh magazine to read, and can't be bothered to turn the kettle on - the perfect recipe for initiating a blog session! With the dreary weather kicking in - yet the humidity still manages to inconveniently hover over us! - I am reminded that the season of Summer, unfortunately, has an annual expiration date.

Summer, for Australians, brings hot, sticky Christmas', festivals packed with shirtless attendees (this may be viewed as a positive or negative characteristic of the Australian summer festival circuit), as well as days spent at the beach, followed by eating ice-cream in an air-conditioned house, nursing skin that, perhaps, got a little too sun-kissed. Summer is the smell of sunscreen, knotted buns situated on the tops of girls' heads, mangoes and cherries, and the smell of burning cash as wallets are left dry after endless parties and get-togethers across December and January.

I'm assuming you've heard the cliche saying: "all good things come to an end". Fortunately for us, there's no saying goodbye to Summer; we'll be back enjoying the stifling heat and trips to Jelly Beach in no time - we only have less than a year to wait!

FRANCO-FIED

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James Franco is taking over the world. Yes, this quite a large claim, but it is certainly backed up with some solid evidence. Since graduating from Columbia University's MFA writing program and enrolling in a PhD  English program at Yale University - while, simultaneously, balancing an acting career and the production of his first book, Palo Alto - Franco has been named as host, accompanied by Anne Hathaway, of the 2011 Oscars to be held on the 27th of  February. Prestigious? Indeed.

However, Franco is still scoring brownie points by just having recently directed and starred in The Broken Tower: The Life of Hart Crane, based on the biography of a homosexual American poet of the 1920's, written by Paul Mariani - with a release date to be announced.

Sexified (yes, this is a legitimate word; ask Ke$ha and Urban Dictionary. Did I really just call on Ke$ha to bail me out of a textual dilemma?),  mystified, jaw-droppingly mesmorised, I have a feeling I may just be FRANCO-fied.

22

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During 2010, I was fortunate enough to spend my 21st birthday in Hollywood with my darling friend Kate, score some very important internships that will hopefully further my career, travel to Europe and China with my Dad, as well as decipher a problem that has been plaguing me for seven years - that's another blog post entry. Now it's 2011 - resolutions are out of the bag and so begins the struggle that is being strapped into the harness that may protect you from things like smoking or swearing too much, yet giving up these so-called luxuries can certainly prove to be difficult!

With the rolling-on of another year, along comes another birthday. Despite feeling a little down that I am adding an extra year onto my age (eeeep!), I am really looking forward to celebrating my birthday with my friends and seeing what 2011 has to offer - while attempting to kick old habits to the curb.

Shaking up stress

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Grumble, grumble, grumble. This is the sound of frustration. Agitation, for me, comes in stages, with each stage characterised by some sort of distorted noise. For example, the beginning of irritation could sound something like a low rumbling, cussing underneath my breath - Mutley style. Depending on the severity of the matter, you could possibly hear a loud GRRR, or perhaps even a string of nonsensical profanities spilling from my mouth. Hey, nobody's perfect, right?

Now, I have tried a few different things to alleviate stress and aggravation, with my most recent discovery being children's movies. Coraline, Where The Wild Things Are, The Secret of NIMH, Beauty and The Beast, and Toy Story 3 have all silenced my incessant complaining, played a part in preventing me from flipping out at screaming toddler on a nine-hour flight from Hong Kong to Sydney (GRRR!!), and boosted my mood from Ground Zero to sky-high - all within an hour and a half of each viewing.

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So, if you're feeling grumpy or a little wired, take the time out to watch a family favourite. If only all the world's problems could be cured with a dose of Disney.

Home is where the heat is

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Yes, I deserve a slap on the wrist for leaving my blog untouched for so long. Since my last post, I became acquainted with Wuthering Heights and the infamous fog swallowing up the moors of Worscester in England, scoped out the military attire, coupled with trenchcoats, on the streets of London (as well as catching up with my darling friend, Erin!), stayed in a castle in Florence, Italy, got completely saturated trudging the busy streets of Rome, as well as eating five-star Yum Cha in China and Hong Kong (so delicious!!).

After experiencing the bone-chilling bitterness of the fast-approaching European winter, coming home to the sweltering heat and humidity has definitely warranted the abuse of airconditioning in my house. Oh and not to mention trips to the beach and agonising whether to toughen up and dive into the icy water or not. It is so lovely to be home, sweet home.