Poetry. Waitress.

Red wine smeared across my hand,

Polite beckoning as I stand.

Gentle murmur of diners

And shouts of cheerful minors.

Cutlery and clink

A smile and a wink

A pad scrawled with pen

Inked with orders

From who knows when.

Coffee grinds

A meeting of minds

Running the pass

Wine poured into a glass

Crema and froth

Table wiping cloth

Scent of napoli

Smiling happily

Extra socks

Pizza box

Latte glass

Serving class

Menus and trays

With chips made of maize

...and potato as well.

Dessert menu

For the ideal venue

Up and sell

If my name isn't...

So many nights that I've been down...

...I've been thinking of you.
I could really use your support. This is my NaNoWriMo victory, Pizza and Coffee:

https://www.createspace.com/3735443

My dream of travelling for study overseas, well, I could use some help.

I would really appreciate if you could spare a moment to read about my antics; and contribute. If you've been reading my antics for a while now here on my blog, perhaps you might be interested in a hard copy.

Thank you.

Instagram fun...

      

 

Clockwise from the top left: A tree whose leaves are starting to colour. I walk past this tree on the way to uni.

The same tree, after two or three weeks.

The wood-burner at my aunty's house. I've finally gotten the hang of lighting a fire.

A Starbucks cup with a sleeve. I think I got the sleeve in Thailand; and the cup sometime before the trip. 

My possible horcruxes.

Taking an idea from this guy, I reckon this would be my list.

1. My dog tag I had made in Phuket.
2. An empty Chanel Chance perfume bottle.
3. A Starbucks coffee cup, with my name on it and the sleeve still on.
4. My huge purple suitcase.
5. A box of Shapes (Pizza)
6. My copy of Goblet of Fire
7. Buffy boxed set.
8. My Ravenclaw scarf that a friend bought me from the theme park.
9. My cat Delta, who currently resides somewhere in Mildura
10. A pizza box.
11. My old iPod Shuffle.

Play along if you like!

Ongoing shenanigans...

My friend Nicola and I went to a couple of panels from the Melbourne Writers Festival. This included meeting people such as Leigh Hobbs (creator of Old Tom) and all the way from the US, Maggie Stiefvater!

Anywho, going to these panels has inspired me to keep writing, no matter how busy things may get.

Who is she? And where is he?

Credit.

Who is she?

She is a nomad.

Floating through life,

All she can see

Is lies and betrayal.

When her attention

Is caught by another

They don't see her.

They never see her.

Who is she?

She is a ghost.

Somebody who has

Been long ago dead.

Who is she?

She is looking

For the one person

Who does see her.

The one who can 

Speak her language,

Hear her thoughts,

Share her dreams,

See her pain.

...where is he?

Sigh.

Random creative writing idea.

He stared, as though in a hypnotic trance, down at her empty bed.

The wrinkled, colourful sheets, which twisted around her as she lay.

The smooth, clean pillow, which had caressed her cheek as she dreamed.

The frayed mattress, which had supported her weight for nineteen years - and still continued to do so.

He perched on the bed slowly and laid down on it, his head brushing the pillow.

Bending sideways to smell the pillow, what felt like hundreds of adjectives to describe it bombarded his mind.

Floral. Spiced. Musky. Light. Crisp.

He closed his eyes.

...it was intoxicating.

She was intoxicating.

He could just breathe her scent, her perfume, for what felt like a lifetime.

Small, hesitant footsteps made his eyes snap open. He'd been caught in her room - lying on her bed - with no plausible explanation.

He instantly jumped into a sitting position, only to find she was just a couple of feet away.

"Hi," she whispered, and a small smile inched slowly across her lips.

It was the smile that told him that he needn't have to worry about his presence in her room. His pulse picked up at the sight of it. The smile that he saw when she saw him. The one that choked up so much unexpected emotion about her.

"Hi," he breathed back.

And I can think of a thousand reasons why I don't believe in you, I'm not yours any more...

So here. You guys get to have a video version of my usual teaser.
As a thank you for stalking my blog.
And because media/film students are supposed to do this sort of thing.
...well, I have no idea. I've done it, anyway. Appreciate?

"The Power of..." by The Pierces was used. I'm happy to say that I found these girls through something other than Gossip Girl. Geez, other things exist. I'm no watcher of Gossip Girl and I don't plan to.

And my normal photo version one would be something like this.

The lighting's meh.

As you can see, I have had a headphones upgrade. My last ones were cheap and plastic and broken, both physically and wire-wise. You know, when you have to arrange the connecting wires so you can hear properly? Tends to happen to all listening aid devices with age? I hope you know what I mean?

Anyway, the sound through these is INCREDIBLE.

So I went to the CBD today.
A store guy called me "miss" today. I wish I knew how to feel about that.
...oh wait, it was added to the end of every sentence. I guess annoyance, then.
I did get some reading done on the tram, which is a relief to get done before the weekend. Something I'm also hoping to get done (or start) before the weekend is my presentation/analysis on a film scene of my choice.

...Amélie, anyone?

You.

I can’t believe I’m standing here

With nothing left at all to fear.

Only you could interfere

As my thoughts fail to cohere,

To fade with one remaining clear.

Find you. 

Near you.

Feel you.

With you.

It's almost a little premise.

There was a man.

A man who was so arrogant about himself and his point of view.

Who was convinced that he knew everything he needed to know.

Who was so preoccupied with worshipping himself that he was oblivious to other things in his life.

Like a girl.

A girl who worshipped him. 

So yes, I'm thinking about writing again! I just think I need to expand my options. 

Like script writing. I might have a shot.

Better call on evolution, better way to make a revolution...

So I had a nice day today, hanging out with friends and catching up. Upon learning of Jewel's Australian Kiwi not having a blog banner, I had a great, frustrating time with Jewels reacquainting myself with Photoshop. You can see the resulting blog banner over here.

I do take requests, so if you need one for your blog or something else, I'd be happy to make you one.

I heart Photoshop for a reason. This reason.

PS, check out the song to your right, 'Quelqu'un m'a dit'. Amazing.

The moment.

The heat.
The touch.
The scent.
The gasp.
The sigh.
The stroke.
The heartbeats.
The inhale.
The exhale.
The squeeze.
The conscience.
The fear.
The end.

All I know is falling.

She was all alone. The deserted landscape began to spin around her ominiously. 


She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. 


She was paralysed as the landscape revolved faster and faster, threatening to turn into a whirlpool of despair and swallow her whole.


...and she was all alone.