The great American road trip, part deux.

Why I used French in a title for an American road trip I do not know, my limited ability to speak foreign tongues saddens me but the few words I do know I will throw out there shamelessly to seem more mysterious and well travelled. Now to the great American road trip, the thing about this is that the second instalment actually takes us to Mexico - how's that for throwing a spanner in the works - as last I left you I promised to write from there. That has officially become a lie, not a planned one, but I am currently back home in Melbourne writing this.

Destination Playa Del Carmen, Mexico. What a crazy little place it is! We didn't sleep on our last night in New Orleans, what with the early flight and travellers budget why pay for a bed for the night? Instead we hung about on the hostel couches for as long as possible before getting to the airport to check in, may I add that they say to arrive three hours before your flight when flying internationally yet the check in gate wasn't even staffed until two hours before! The nerve. Whatever I was going to Mexico to lay on a beach, I shan't complain. We arrived in Cancun around 11am and breezed through customs, jumped on an ADO and arrive in Playa Del Carmen around an hour later. After checking into Hostel Che (awesome!) we dropped our luggage, got our bikini's on, hit up Walmart for sunscreen and finally hit the beach - conveniently located five minutes from the hostel. Boom.

I won't go over ever little detail of the trip, but I will say that I ate beans and rice everyday with a side of guacamole and it never got old. We also spent a lot of time on the beach watching the sunset from fabulous hand woven seats with giant Pina Coladas in hand, a band performing behind us and the waves crashing in front. It really is paradise. The nights were crazy no matter what day of the week; dancing, shots, and walking the beach as the sun rose hand in hand with a boy named Simone...

After not making it there due to insane tropical weather back in 2008, I finally saw the Mayan Ruins of Tulum, very impressive living quarters they had for themselves with a knockout view of the pure blue shores beneath and pet lizards EVERYWHERE. From the ruins we hit up Akumal to snorkel, lucky for us it was green turtles hatching season and we didn't have to go far to find ourselves swimming with a few of the big guys - no tour necessary we paid $5 for a snorkel/goggle kit and swam out ourselves - we were overwhelmed with excitement and awe to almost be able to touch them. The next day we went to Isla Mujeres (The Island of Women) and unfortunately our luck turned as it belted down rain, so much so that the streets were flooded and it became quite the mission to get from Playa to Cancun to the ferry to the Island. Nevertheless we made it, and managed a walk about the Island before it rained again and we decided to utilise Hostel Poc Na's bar setup for the evening. Needless to say we were more than happy to get back to Playa the next morning. Bringing us to our last day in Mexico, it rained for the most of it but that didn't stop up from doing a souvenir shop and hitting the clubs for one last hoorah. I may or may not have still been drunk when going to the airport in the morning.

I've got to say it felt good to get back to New York after partying harder than I had all year in Mexico, I was ready to get to our little apartment in the East Village and sleep for about a year, or you know at least one good nights rest. The apartment we scored on air bnb was fabulous! A real artists den, we both felt inspired in the space. I can't stress enough how damn good it felt to cook a meal in the kitchen too, as much as I love Mexican food I was dying for some broccolini. Our second stint in NY consisted of shopping, eating, drinking, pinball and exploring the East Village, an area that I fell in love with dare I say more so than I did Greenpoint Brooklyn. It was the perfect end to our three week road trip, and I know that Catia & I will be back again one day because there really is something about New York City.

After Catia flew back to London I made my way to Copiague, Long Island to reunite with family friends for the next five days - which was a lovely little rest from the past three weeks madness. Come Sunday I arrived in Cincinnati Ohio for a reunion with my very good friends Jamie & Mikal. It was beyond lovely to see them again and to know that everything is going well for them since settling there just over a year ago. Cincinnati was a fun city with a lot on offer, we got rugged up and wandered around town dropping into whatever place looked good as it lightly snowed (woo! Snow!), my only regret is that I didn't have more time. Jamie & Mikal threw a pre-giving Thanksgiving allowing me to meet all their new friends which was nice, I ate way too much food though which was worrying since it wasn't technically Thanksgiving yet. It was bitter sweet leaving Ohio for LA that Wednesday morning, as it's always the best feeling reuniting with old friends yet it never gets easier to leave them behind 'until next time' whenever that may be.

I arrived back in LA to the open arms of my beautiful ex-roomy Melissa, and we had a wicked brunch together before I got passed on to the next friend. I spent Thanksgiving with Amy - an absolute sweetheart - who took me to a local FriendsGiving in Echo Park. I met a lot of lovely welcoming people and we all wrote what we were thankful for before reading them around a fire and burning the notes, it was truly beautiful. All in all I spent my last weekend in good company managing to catch up with almost everyone I know and love in Los Angeles, and it was the perfect end to an amazing six week get away. I honestly feel blessed for having so many wonderful people in my life, friends new and old, and the ones I haven't made yet. Although it was sad to say goodbye again I took comfort in knowing that my family and friends in Melbourne were only a 15 hour flight away and I know that we'll have the best summer adventures together, whatever they might be.

Big love everyone, stay safe and enjoy the small things :)

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

The great American road trip.

Excuse my lack of blogging of late, and allow me to give you the rundown.
I flew into Los Angeles on October 23rd and found myself quite busy catching up with my wonderful friends there, before flying destination New York City to meet up with my beautiful Catia - whom I hadn't seen in a whole year! (I have mentioned her previously, she's the one from London). We spent five nights in an apartment in Greenpoint Brooklyn such a trendy little area we both highly recommend. Note: try https://www.airbnb.com for great deals on accom. on your next trip, great way to live like a local.

We walked all the way from Brooklyn, over the bridge, through East Village, Greenwich, right up to Chelsea Piers, before heading to Central Park for a much deserved sit down. We also walked in the halloween parade in the village which was SO packed and equally as fun, we went to MoMA which was such a delight (Monet, Picasso, Van Gogh's 'starry night!!') FYI it is also free on Friday nights from 4-8pm, we followed it up with a drink at a roof top bar called 'Rare' in Chelsea which had an amazing view of the city. Time flew by as we next found ourselves flying to Nashville Tennessee.

Nashville is a great city, filled with Honky Tonks playing live Country music what felt like 24/7, Catia & I both felt like it was a city you could live in a while (although personally I feel I left my heart in NY). The people are lovely, the beer is cheap, the accent puts a smile on your face. From here we hired a car and I drove on the opposite side of the road for the first time in my life, it was a little scary/nerve wracking at first, but luckily a pretty straight route on the 65 all the way to Tuscaloosa Alabama. We spent a night here to break the driving session in two (as I was the only driver), a little motel off the freeway where the receptionist asked what language we speak in Australia. We spent the evening doing facials and all that girlie stuff that makes you feel fresh and ready to go, before making the most of a comfortable nights sleep in a queen size bed. We woke early, drank a big old coffee and jumped in the car again.

The drive that morning felt super chill/quick as I was comfortable by that point. Come midday we had driven through Mississippi before arriving in New Orleans Louisiana, Woo! Destination NOLA! And my friend's, this is where I write to you from. The hostel is called India House, it is very quirky to say the least, and I love it. We took a stroll around French Quarters yesterday, and Bourbon Street of course - it smelt funky - today is when things will get interesting though. Saint Louis Cemetery here we come! I'll write another entry when I get to Mexico to let you know what's what, plus I'll upload a couple photos to my tumblr page (accessible via the tabs above).

Lot's of love till next time.

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

Dead in couture.

I took a train to visit a girlfriend in country Victoria last week, and as it happened it rained for the majority of my stay. Annoying as it was that we didn’t get as much gardening done as planned, we did manage however to forage the racks of three wonderful Charity stores. $60 later not only had I donated to charity (hey hey!) I also had a fabulous array of ‘new-old’ items; from shoes, designer tops, high-waisted slacks, to a ‘Samantha Jones’ inspired party dress and a fabulous black velvet evening bag, heck, I even managed to score a vintage buckle-up case to carry my lute back to Melbourne in! Needless to say I was more than pleased with our shopping efforts, and country Victoria had become the balls out best destination for thrift shop delights! Yet my happiness evolved into a little bit of a pissed off tiff as it had become all too clear how expensive retro/vintage shopping has become in Melbourne.

My love affair for all things vintage has gone on for as long as I can remember, and will continue till I drop dead - clad in vintage couture, grandmas pearls, cigar ash & cats no doubt - but these days there is such a hype surrounding retro/vintage shopping, that even a lot of charity stores have cottoned onto it and upped their prices! That said, I can't say that bothers me at all as it never hurts to give back to charity, but as a longtime vintage enthusiast I can make like our grandparents and say 'I remember when I could get a dress for...' to show my displeasure for how times have changed. All waffling complaints in regards to vintage going mainstream aside, I still love everything about it. From the potential backstory to the rarity of a garment, heck I'd even go so far to say I get a kick out of the smell - much like I do from a library - there is just so much history in its musk.

With my recent thrifting adventure behind me I felt inspired to go through my closet and drawers to marvel at my collection, this led to taking a few snaps of some items I’ve purchased/collected over the years, plus some shots of my country bargains. So here it is guys and dolls, some photographs of a (small) slice of my personal collection of vintage & designer pieces, plus a little list of some of my favourite hubs for shopping - if you find yourself in the area...

EBAY: Escada, YSL, Christian Dior.

Sample sales: Bettina Liano, Sass & Bide.

left to right op-shop delights: Carla Zampatti, Seduce,
Scanlan and Theodore, Morrissey, Scanlan and Theodore.

EBAY: YSL

Country op-shop $5 bargain!

Country op-shop $4 slacks, $3 top.

For more photos check out my tumblr, accessible through the tabs above this post - you know, the one marked 'tumblr'. Otherwise here's the list, PLUS! The link to my beautiful country friend's own tumblr page:
http://rforrach.tumblr.com
Because her fabulousness makes my life better.

Los Angeles

BUFFALO EXCHANGE: Buy/Sell/Trade, multi locations USA

http://www.buffaloexchange.com

JET RAG: $1 sale Sundays, LA

http://www.timeout.com/los-angeles/shopping/jet-rag

SQUARESVILLE: LA

http://squaresvillevintage.blogspot.com.au

Melbourne

HUNTER GATHERER – Brotherhood of St Lawrence: Royal Arcade

http://www.bsl.org.au/hunter-gatherer.aspx

RED PARASOL: Croydon

http://croydonmainstreet.com.au/stores/redparasol/

Of course I could go on and on about shopping in Melbourne, but I'll save it for another post!

Also a special mention to BEYOND RETRO, London: http://www.beyondretro.com

I remember shopping here with my brother and I thought he'd lose patience with me, but thankfully there was an old arcade version of Bubble Bobble in the back corner. I almost died! I could have lived in this place... Best. Game. Ever.

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

Post-script: Excuse the woeful layout of photos, something's amiss with the upload feature and it doesn't help that I'm not the most tech-savvy lady in the world!

Short Tales Part 1: Tabitha

Tabitha’s tale is not one for the faint of heart, nor is it one for those who refuse to believe in the unbelievable. For Tabitha’s tale is a tale of the peculiar sorts, stewed in solitude, growth and the kind of magic that has you believing in fairytales.

Tabitha has led a lonely life, yet through her hazel eyes she cannot see this obvious fact. You see, the strange thing about loneliness is that if one is born into it, they are sure not to understand what loneliness truly is; for you have never indulged in the company of your own kind before, and you do not understand what it is to not be lonely.

Allow me to begin at birth, a time in which Tabitha’s parents abandoned tubby-baby Tabitha, and left her to grow up alone in the woods of Lulluba. Mostly alone Tabitha would have indeed been in these woods, and surely tubby-baby Tabitha would not have survived if it were not for the strange creatures of the woods, The Lunduloo’s of Lulluba Woods.

The years went by and Tabitha grew, keeping company with the many Lunduloo who would come and go on their journey through the Lulluba woods. The Lunduloo were a creature like no other. Their features were very similar to those of Tabitha’s very own, yet a fine furry moss of many earthy shades grew all over the Lunduloo's skin. They were a short folk, never growing taller than 4 feet in height; neither friendly nor mean, for the Lunduloo’s could not communicate in a manner in which Tabitha could make sense of.

Overall the Lunduloo simply existed.

And then there were the Sparrowloo. Half Sparrow and half Lunduloo the Sparrowloo lived a simple life of flight and squawk, and they were indeed amused by strange little Tabitha. How unique she was with her fiery pumpkin coloured fur billowing out of her head, and her porcelain skin covered in teensy tiny spots of a darker shade. Tabitha spent her childhood playing games in the woods of Lulluba with the cheeky Sparrowloo. She would make the strangest of sounds as she ran around in a flurry attempting to catch the Sparrowloo in flight. Unbeknown to the creatures of Lulluba Woods, these strange sounds were in fact the familiar sound of a child's laughter to us Human folk.

Tabitha had been rather content. Yet as the years went by and Tabitha grew, her height had become quite the concern for the Lunduloo and Sparrowloo of Lulluba woods, upon which Tabitha found herself getting far few passers-by. Until one gloomy day not even the most curious of Lunduloo or Sparrowloo would pass by Tabitha. Not even for a sneaky glance at the strange beast that stood taller than all the known creatures in the mystical woods of Lulluba.

You see, imagine if everyone you ever knew was either the same height as you or a slight smaller, no one ever dare grow past 4 feet tall. And now imagine a creature like no other, with skin as white as snow and fur only sprouting upon her head. How curious this creature must be. And now imagine even further – if you dare – that this little creature girl with hair the colour of fiery pumpkin would continue to grow, simply refusing to cease reaching further heights! Making said creature girl taller than every other creature you had ever known and visualised in your whole entire existence! Most terrifying is the unknown.

And so every morning as Tabitha rose from her luminous green bed of moss, she would proceed to the Oak tree stump that resided in the very centre of her tree house. Here Tabitha would position her back against the Oak trees stump and take out her sharp & shiny trinket to carve a line above her head. And on this particular morning Tabitha let out a long and dreamy sigh, “Why, oh why, do I continue to grow? I’ve passed the height of every Lunduloo!” And as the days went by, Tabitha only continued to grow ever so slightly taller, and with her height came a longing that pretty little Tabitha had never experienced inside of her. A longing that one-day she could be lucky enough to meet someone just like her, someone who was different too.

One day no different to another, Tabitha started her usual mid-morning stroll through the field of daisies. Lonely the fields now were, Tabitha took solace in pausing at random moments to breathe in the essence of the daisies and woods, remembering those days of her childhood when she was welcomed with open arms and wings …the days when she wasn’t considered a giant fire-fur alien that had appeared in the Lulluba Woods as a harmless tubby-bubby only to grow into the tallest strangest creature in all of the woods that was surely sent to execute every last Lunduloo and Sparrowloo that stepped within the reach of her giant being…

The faint smile that had always remained upon Tabitha’s face subsided as her pink tinted lips began to quiver. Stranger still was the sensation as Tabitha’s big hazel eyes filled with a salty liquid, causing her face to scrunch as it cascaded down her speckled cheeks. At that precise moment Tabitha finally understood the true meaning of loneliness, and it weighed her down to the dirt and daisies beneath her bare feet. As the day passed by Tabitha sat slumped and confused, alone whilst contemplating her existence, “Who am I? What am I? Why am I so strange?”

Stopped were her wonders upon hearing the most peculiar of sounds, so peculiar it was that she understood every syllable. “How am I to know who you are? But I can tell you I’m Frankie. Who am I to tell you what you are? But I can tell you I’m a cat. And why are you strange? Why, we’re all a little strange, are we not?”

Frankie the cat stood what had to be almost 6 whole feet tall! Remarkable a creature he was in Tabitha’s widened eyes, for never in her life had Tabitha seen such a creature, and surely she should have been afraid, yet she could not help but sit and stare with the goofiest of smiles upon her pretty little face. Could it be that Tabitha was indeed no longer so strange and alone? Frankie returned Tabitha’s wide smile with the toothiest grin that there had ever been in the whole of Lulluba Woods. Could it be that giant toothy Frankie the cat was no longer so strange and alone?

Frankie helped Tabitha upon her feet and they strolled through the field of daisies. Frankie spoke quick and with wit, yet Tabitha did not mind for even a moment, as she was pleased as punch to be able to keep up with Frankie’s tongue and understand every word of it.

The afternoon passed quick as Tabitha and Frankie exchanged many useless nothings, and as the sun began to set they reached what seemed to be the end of the Lulluba Woods. “It cannot be!” Proclaimed Tabitha. Both Tabitha and Frankie exchanged a look of confusion mixed with wonder as they examined the scene ahead of their path. There was a rippling wall of water for which neither Tabitha nor Frankie could see where it began nor where it ended. And in front of this wall stood the two strange creatures hand-in-paw-in-awe, not quite sure where their next two steps would take them.

Testing fate Frankie placed his paw forward and touched the rippling wall of blue and purple water. Surprise clouded over Tabitha and Frankie upon the realisation that Frankie’s paw had come out dry. Furthermore, it was no longer a paw at all, for Frankie’s paw had come out a hand – almost identical to Tabitha’s! Confusion took over the two strange creatures, as they stood completely and utterly bewildered examining Frankie the cat’s used-to-be-paw. Till came a moment in which Tabitha and Frankie’s confusion turned into an absurdly strong sense of curiosity, and they looked at each other exchanging cheeky smiles, hand-in-hand, knowing what they must do next.

Together Tabitha and Frankie leant their curious faces forward through the rippling wall, and to their great surprise, it did not feel even the slightest bit wet as the liquid substance touched their faces. Instead the substance tingled Tabitha’s porcelain skin in the most delicious of sensations as she fluttered her eyes open. Examining the beautiful scene of nature in front of her, the biggest surprise of all occurred as Tabitha faced Frankie the cat.

Frankie looked Tabitha in her beautiful big hazel eyes; she was the sweetest of creatures Frankie had ever seen. Frankie took in every delighted sparkle as Tabitha saw the truth that had remained hidden inside of Frankie, Frankie was no cat. His fur sat above his head, a combination of brown and blonde. His eyes remained the colour of water, yet they seemed brighter than they had appeared before. And As Tabitha and Frankie looked deep within each other’s eyes it finally registered, they weren't so different after all.

The moment came to a halt as Tabitha felt a tug upon her dress from the other side of the wall where her body remained, and then she was gone. Frankie observed the beautiful infinite grounds in front of him, before he too was yanked back into Lulluba Woods. A small group of distressed Lunduloo stood before Tabitha and the fresh faced Frankie, yet as it had always been, Tabitha could not understand what the Lunduloo were trying to communicate.

Sick and tired of not being able to follow their conversation, Tabitha and Frankie had a stroke of genius at the same precise moment, and with that they both grabbed an arm each of the closest Lunduloo and thrust them forth through the rippling wall, before abruptly pulling them back. The Lunduloo reappeared as a human boy, his face in shock, and his hair a messy mop of dark brown, he stammered upon his words, “Wha… wha… What have you done to me?”

Silence fell upon all of the Lunduloo and a flock of Sparrowloo that had flown in just in time to witness the miracle. Confusion and excitement flooded the face of all that had appeared, until the not-so-strange little Tabitha began to giggle and clap her hands in a rapid momentum, “We’re not so different after all, it’s clear to me now. It doesn’t matter how we appear, nor does it matter what tongue we speak; for deep down inside, the truth is that we are all the same!”

Turning to the rippling wall of magic, Tabitha took the hand of Frankie the half-cat and said “Now Frankie, how about an adventure?”

With that the two outcasts walked united through the wall which was to become known to those of Lulluba Woods as the Mystical Wall of Truth, and known to Tabitha and Frankie as the gateway to adventure. And many adventures there would be beyond the walls mystique, for those who dare to believe. For beyond this wall lay a strange little place, a very strange place indeed…

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

Before I was sleeping

Here I lay eyes wide shut
A shiver brings warmth to my imagination

Igniting my minds eye I walk towards the unknown
Sheer delight for its pure fantasy

Come what may I’ll embrace thee
With knowledge that anything may lay ahead

Walk on, walk on, fly if so I desire

A mere vessel insignificant in my own creation
Just so the greater scheme of it all

Endless beauty within hands reach
All that is left is to open ones eyes

Open your eyes and embrace the possibilities
Reach your hands and caress life

Before entering eternal nothingness.

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

Ode de hipsterdom

Taking photos for Instagram using your iPhone and a filter

Wearing glasses sans lenses to maintain your enigma

Knitted sweaters, bow ties, collared shirts buttoned high

Curl your moustache, quiff your hair, slouchy beanies everywhere!

Too cool to care about what’s cool

Anti-mainstream is your fuel

Saying ‘Yeah…’ you nod and stare

Trending virus world beware!

Pabst Blue Ribbon in hand you never dance at a gig

ALWAYS first to know with judging eyes to deliver subtle digs

Adopt an ‘I hate hipsters’ t-shirt and bands before they form

Eco-friendly, bicycle rider, shopping at your local thrift store

Pride yourself on knowing all things off beat inclusive of things yet to exist

Congregate together & form new vocabulary for your click

Only watch independent & foreign film as blockbusters are such a bore

Especially watch nouvelle vague & film noir (J'adore!)

Wear your jean short cutoffs, plaid shirts & chuck taylors too

Vintage camera around your neck – spin that vinyl on the deck 

Beware the rise, yes world beware
The modern day hipster is everywhere!

Gone are the days of being recognized for being different

Rising armies have conformed through non-conformation

Walking contradictions they prescribe to irony not labels

And that my friends is a wrap on this hipster fable.

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

Experiencing mental difficulties.

What to do.
What is next.
What is what.
What is that.
What are you.
What am I.
What are we.
What the hell.
What's the point.
What's your point.
Don't point at me.
Stop it.
Seriously, just stop it.
Take a breath.
Eat a cookie.
Drink some ginger beer.
And chill the f*#k out...

Prost. Salud. Sante. Mot hai ba yo!
Or you know, Cheers.

...It is Friday after all.

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

What if?

WARNING!

There's some profanity at hand, and well... shit's gonna get a little weird. But if you're into it? Carry on.

Sometimes I’m curious about what would happen if a zombie apocalypse actually begun (yes, again with the freaking Zombies). It could be fun, it most definitely wouldn’t be dull at the very least. But a lot of people would die, and cannibalism would be ‘in vogue’ and ultimately I’d rather people keep trending on veganism as it’s better for your soul – and you know life – but what if?

Living like pirates is definitely the most popular choice to play out the zombie virus, yet don’t you think the longer you live at sea the more bat shit crazy you’ll become? Seriously, you’ll end up seeing and even doing some things that you’d (hopefully) never have dreamt of doing or seeing before. You’d pillage and even kill other sea pirates for their spoils, without been sure they had anything worth killing for, shit – you wouldn't have a second thought about it, it's just survival. Don’t you think that kind of makes you as bad as those bloody zombie bastards? Think about it, you became a pirate to escape the zombies that were running around eating every single thing with a heartbeat, and now boom! You aren't eating other people (or are you?!) but you're happy to shoot a bitch in the face for some canned beans.

Honestly I couldn’t even imagine punching someone without feeling remorse, even if someone had said something and totally deserved my fist in their face ­– I couldn’t help but feel a little conflicted. How the hell am I suppose to shoot someone? Or stab them with my homemade death blade? OR aim my arrow at their gullet? Shit, I don’t even have any archery training, and I've never even seen a real gun! I’m not prepared for this! I CAN’T BE A PIRATE TODAY!!!!! Just give me the rum and I’ll steer the ship, I’m better at everything when I’m drunk.

And how about those teen vampire novels? (Smooth transition...) Who wants to bang some dead un-ageing freak that can put his supernatural baby inside of you. How does that work anyway? I mean him producing sperm is ridiculously far fetched, in fact him being able to get a hard on is quite frankly unbelievable. Bravo dead Sir, Bravo. Seriously though, if any of you have to have sex with a supernatural ‘hottie’ (IRK!) do it with a werewolf. Firstly he has a heartbeat, and if that isn’t enough to persuade you? You're already bat shit crazy, and I think you'll make a good goddamn pirate.

Fucking Twilight.

Maybe Isaac Marion (Author: Warm Bodies) has it all figured out? ...now pucker up you gorgeous ghoul you, I'm gonna bring you back to life!

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

Carla vs Karma.

As Carla spilt red wine on her white cocktail dress her distress brought a smile to her friends face, “Oh no, is it coming out?”
She was rubbing fiercely at the stain, with little to no effect. “I think it’s ruined" she almost shrieked in displeasure "RUINED!!!!"

Her friend’s smile was twisted with a slight tremor as she did her best to suppress her laughter. ‘Carla is a bitch’ she thought, ‘this is hilarious’ her mind giggled, ‘tonight might not be so horrible after all…’ she wondered as Carla’s substantially beautiful brother strolled to the table in stitches at his bitchy sister’s misfortune. “Drop dead Troy!” screeched Carla as she stormed out of the room; all the men watching her arse sway side to side like a snake slithers in the sun.

Troy turned to me and winked “It’s safe to laugh now Wendy.”

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

Expectations & Possibilities

It’s interesting you know, one day you get to a certain point in your life in which there's a shift, and suddenly your parents will no longer treat you as a child. It’s only a slight shift, gradually growing until that day comes along that you find yourself under the pressure of expectations. Growing, growing, growing is the need for you to make something of yourself – not entirely for yourself – for your parents, to satisfy them and make them proud, and it doesn’t stop there. As you age and develop ‘adult relationships’ and find yourself involved in ‘adult activities’ from your relationship with your boss, to your relationship with your friends, and for some of you your relationship with your significant other, the list of responsibilities and expectations only continue to grow.

Grow, grow, grow…

Do you remember when you were young, and life seemed almost mystical? You had the biggest and wildest dreams for your future, and you truly believed that you were capable of having all those dreams become reality. We hold on to that feeling, the concept that ‘anything is possible’ for as long as we can, and we want to believe it well into adulthood. Ultimately though, one day arrives that we're not so sure we will walk on the moon, cure cancer, or wow an audience of hundreds (thousands, millions!!!) and a lot of us will probably just wake up and roll out of bed and be left with a broken hip, wondering where the bloody years went? Yearning for our youth, not just physical appearance but the psyche and attitude of endless possibility.

Wonder, wonder, wonder...

I guess my point is that maybe we shouldn’t be in such a rush to mature, because that whole aspect of our youth – the anything is possible notion – is something worth holding on to. In the end there will always be expectations, whether they are ringing through your ears or simply in your own mind, but there will always be an endless supply of possibilities too.

It's up to you.

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

The (non)Review: Chloe Grace Moretz.

Firstly I must state that I don’t think it’s fair for one sixteen year old to be this goddamn cool, yet here she is, gracing our big screen with an attitude that has us screaming for more.

Predominantly known for her role as Hit Girl in Kick Ass (2010) – in which she infamously uttered the c-bomb ever so casually at a mere 11 years of age – Chloe Grace Moretz has been in this game for a lot longer than most may have realised. From her breakout roll in the remake of Amityville Horror alongside Ryan Reynolds (2005), to playing Joseph Gordon Levitt’s wise-beyond-her-years little sister in 500 Days of Summer (2009), Chloe has well and truly established herself as both a versatile and boundary annihilating actress, and the craziest part of it all? The girl is only getting started.

With her ability to appear mature – almost to an extent in which the audience may forget that she is still a kid – to her tough yet sensitive attitude, Chloe is simply oozing with a level of coolness that most adults will never achieve. When it comes to her portrayal of Luli in the film Hick (2011) – which mostly received a brutal backlash – Chloe was phenomenal and no one could deny that fact. I also have to admit I enjoyed Hick throughly, it's ability to have me feeling utterly uncomfortable was impressive, I truly would recommend the film to all my friends to watch – although I know a lot of them would hate it due to the lack of fluffy bunnies... Chloe also knows how to nail an English accent, evident in the highly acclaimed adventurous family film Hugo (2011), and how to appear completely vulnerable and innocent – as a vampire nonetheless – in the thriller/horror/romance that is Let Me In (2010).

Not just hitting all the right marks in her acting career, Chloe is also making a name for herself in the fashion stakes. A regular spectator of the runway, and constantly turning heads on the red carpet, sister’s got some serious style credentials! ...I mean can you imagine being a 16 year old girl with that kind of access to fashion? Holy crap I would literally have heart palpitations!

To summarise, Chloe Grace Moretz is one badass talented babe and I can't wait for Kick Ass 2 and the highly anticipated remake of Carrie, plus whatever else the long road as an entertainer holds for her. Here's just hoping that road doesn't include going to rehab *cough* no no no, that is doubtful – unless she manages to overdose on her awesomeness.

Verdict? Love her.

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

The short & sweet: Part 3.

I had a dream about Bruce Willis a week or so ago, and in this particular dream he was trying to kill me

[Insert Die Hard joke here]

After contemplating this dream in my mind this past week, I have decided that it comes down to two possible answers as to what the hell it meant:

1: The time has come in which Bruce Willis is officially to old for me to fantasise about.

OR 2: I really need to see the new Die Hard film.

I have decided to opt for the later, because lets face it - Bruce Willis is and always will be the man.

mmm.... Bruce

 you're welcome.

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

The short & sweet: Part 2.

My ode to coffee.

I'd happily spend the last of my change on you
Heaven forbid that's what it comes down to
Not only are you delicious
But I read that you're nutritious
Full of antioxidants and you can help with cardiovascular
Not to mention you lower risks of various cancer
People say you're an addiction...
...well at least you're not heroin
I'll stick with you forever
And I'll never trade you for tea ever
Because nothing compares to your aroma and taste
Forever, once a day, my body you will grace.

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

The short & sweet: Part 1.

Time truly does fly by as we grow older, and as the weeks, months, years tick over we promise ourselves that this year will be our year and no longer shall we let time slip away! And it's true - to some extent - that we set certain goals for the year, and it feels glorious to achieve them, but mostly time just continues to tick by, and there is always something that you were going to do last year that you didn't manage to get around to.

My point is, you may be twenty-something today but one day will be the tomorrow that you wake up and you're seventy years old, so just ask yourself, what do you want to show for it?

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

Postscript: Utilise and treasure time. Enjoy your free time with someone or something that makes you feel alive, or simply makes you smile. Because in the end all you have left are your memories.

Date night.

Monday afternoon I cleaned my bathroom, it took me longer than I'd like to admit but the final result was worth it - the tub was glistening as though it had been born again! Needless to say, come Tuesday all I could think about was a steaming hot bubble bath...

When Tuesday evening came around I prepped what I could for dinner, so it just needed to be thrown into the oven, and I started running a bath. I threw in a little bit of every delicious smelling product I could find, a bath fizzer, essential oils, a couple of those hotel sized bubble baths, and an extra bath fizzer for good measure. Whilst the bubbles grew out of control I lit a dozen candles and placed them about the bath - because if you're going to do something do it right - and finally it was time to get into the aromatic tub so I could bathe by candlelight... But not before I popped a bottle of champagne, because a girls gots to be fancy like that.

After soaking in the many perfumed products that laced the water for a few minutes the phone rang - I did not answer it - I smiled to myself and took a sip of champagne. Time passed by and I didn't have a care in the world. I had drank a couple glasses by the time I finally emerged from the water allowing the blissfulness to drain away; I was somewhat lightheaded, but it felt amazing, and I smelt like a florist. After drying off I threw on my nighty and floated downstairs to stuff a couple mushrooms and add them to the oven with the sweet potato chips, but not before I poured another champagne - Thou shalt not be wasteful... Once dinner was cooked, I sat down and ate it whilst watching the underrated comedy that is 'Slackers' - both the meal and the movie were awesome.

When I went to bed on this particular Tuesday evening, I realised I had just had the perfect date night. A candlelit bath, a home cooked meal, AND a funny film - had I just become some kind of romantic? And with this notion in mind a warm and cheeky smile spread over my face, and I couldn't help but whisper 'I love you', before breaking into laughter and sprawling out like a ballerina mid-leap in my bed.

I slept better that night than I had in a long time.

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

Strange amongst strangers.

I sit motionless, falling in and out of a dreamless sleep. So silent it is when I wake that I forget I'm completely surrounded - yet ultimately alone - it's just me and forty-something others, on the road back to civilisation. The silence is occasionally broken with light meaningless banter, a cough or sneeze, and the constant rambling of the sometimes sinister thoughts that pass through my mind ever so casually. I'm not quite sure if it's just trickery, but I feel the ever present glare of the old lady next to me, so I examine her from my sneaky side-glance through my aviators; she just seems lonely and bored as she lightly shuffles - uncomfortable - in her seat. If only she could be in my mind even just for a moment, it may occasionally find itself lonely but I guarantee never an ounce of boredom shall it endure.

–Boredom isn't avail to the creative imagination, and it is a sad sin for the uninspired–

Her face is ageing yet I'm sure once beautiful. She twirls her reading glasses in her hand to numb the boredom (?) and current loneliness the years have brought her; her in her black pants and purple knit teeshirt, I'd ask her name but I worry I may pry or worst still become uninspired. So I continue to write and look out the window at passing countryside. I feel her eyes on me. I wonder again why it is so silent, why strangers can sit next to one another for hours on end yet not share even a handful of words. I know I'm a hypocrite as I write this, but I have always preferred to write my words as opposed to speak them. Although, I never shut-up around those closest to me, it's the new faces that make me nervous, nerves get the better of me, and I can't express myself.

The boy in the seat that could have been next to me yet is in front, he is beautiful. I wonder what could have been if he sat next to me; endless conversation and content eye contact, smiles and laughter as two strangers become less strange. Yet he is in the seat in front, next to an unknown face with a high set bun in her hair, they are silent and my brain - my beautiful yet ever so infuriating mind - cannot stop. His head of perfect messy hair closes in on 'bun-girls' shoulder as he nods off into dreamless sleep, to suppress the loneliness and I hope not boredom. Please not the boredom.

The reason behind the sleep being dreamless is because it is unnecessary. We don't really need sleep, we simply want to help the time pass. What we don't realise is that between the dreamless sleep and the aimless banter and grunts, we are slowly relating more and more to mans concept of the Zombie. I sometimes worry about the end of the world, the inevitable, the Zombie Apocalypse, and everyone becoming pirates and ultimately monsters themselves in order to prevent a death riddled life without any desires - apart from live brains. I stop thinking about Zombies and the fact that man is going to be the reason why man becomes extinct for a moment and I feel my hunger. I'm so hungry, yet I am too paranoid to eat the snacks I pre-purchased for the road. The chips make the loudest crunch and I fear I sound like a wild animal. The crunch is so loud in the silence that I am certain everyone can hear it, and I can't stand the thought of having forty-something sets of irritated eyes upon me.

Most of our surroundings out here in the middle of nowhere on the road to civilisation are dead. The trees, the grass, the shrubs have battled for life, as the dirt - dried out dirt - fights its way into the spotlight. Our sun, precious, glorious, riddled with happiness and potential warm memories, it shines upon nature and slowly kills it all; dries it out by forbidding the rain that is necessary for nourishment. It's all so dry, and on the verge of impending doom. I become parched and open my drink bottle to wet my entire mouth and soothe my drying throat; the bottle has been shaken by the roads and several precious drops sprout out wetting my dress. I imagine hearing the wind sail through the decaying grass outside and it whistles light its last dry breath. I feel a moments guilt as I saviour the refreshing liquid that eases my throat.

I spot a red metallic somewhat giant origami bird on the side of the road, I smile to myself as we come down a slight hill. From here I spot the city off in the distance, it seems remarkably small - the trickery of distance. We pass more and more vehicles at this point, and there are houses. We're close but not close enough. Factory style storage units, the perfect sign that you are closing in on the outskirts of the city, and there it is, I see it all from here - and it's grows bigger and bigger – I feel a pang of excitement and relief as I spot roadworks and freshly laid concrete/gravel roads, bright orange witches-hats, and an onset of traffic. Civilisation.

I want to strike up a conversation with the lady next to me, but I worry she'll find me strange for having not spoken sooner - being that it is nearly the end of our journey together. She sucks on hard candy lollies as she keeps a keen eye now on the traffic. "So close yet so far in this traffic" I'd say with a casual laugh. She would smile at me and nod in agreement as she went on to tell me how the loss of an unsatisfying husband had brought her the freedom she had so long desired, and that she was on her way to the city to meet up with an old High-school sweetheart, fifty-something years too late... Instead, still silence, broken by my sneeze left unblessed.

My excitement has dissolved into longing, longing to see my family. Yet Citylink tollway signs peer their ugly face at me, electric blue they beam in sheer arrogance. Suddenly it isn't so silent, there is light music, the sound of the road, and growing conversation - not so meaningless anymore - it is riddled with the excited knowledge that we are almost able to use our legs again, stretch out all the stiffening aches in our bodies. Relief, through the comfort of knowledge. I look to my left and take it all in. My home, my love, my Melbourne, more beautiful than ever. Surrounded by nameless faces, and soon to be named ones, yet I still can't help but wonder - what's your name? What's your story? Why are you next to me? As we step up to get off the bus we catch eye contact and smile. She makes a joke about people being in a rush, we laugh light and brief as I nod my head and say "Yeah."

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

twenty-something: the last $10

It occurred to me two days ago that there may be something seriously wrong with me... I am currently unemployed and looking for any work to get me by and to get me out of my parents place. So I should be very cautious of my money, and mostly I am, yet on this particular Tuesday an evil and somewhat moronic event unfolded which left me eying my piggy bank for its loose change goodness that lies within its bright red and yellow flowered belly ...I may or may not have spent the last $10 in my wallet on the latest issue of 'InStyle' Magazine. But before you judge let us back this story up for a moment so I can indulge you all in the tale of why myself, a 26 year old woman, is back at home with the parents AND jobless.

Once upon a time I worked very hard; I juggled three jobs at a time, I sacrificed my social life and I saved a whole lot of dough. Yet I had no idea what I was saving for? A house I guess, because that's what your 'suppose to do', but really all this money just sat there with no real purpose, and it was my hard earned, social hiatus, reward - just sitting there?! And then came along my brother with a plan to travel for 6 months, and mine being tired of my usual routine jumped onboard the adventure.

As a lot of you may know backpacking is consuming. Once you catch that 'travel bug' you're pretty much screwed! It's all you'll want to do, and it can be done on the cheap to allow you to carry on trekking for long periods of time. Yet inevitably comes a time when you'll need to earn money again, and see your family & friends. So you go home, throw yourself into work for however long is needed until you go crazy and book another flight and the so the story goes. UNTIL comes a day you feel ready to settle down for a while but you're in quiet the predicament because you haven't had a steady job for a couple years, and this my friends hinders you some as a potential employee.

-Thankfully my parents are wonderful, supportive and loving folk, and they take me back every single time; as a result I become a personal cleaner and cook because that is what I can offer them in the meantime (along with some board) for having kept me safe and sound with a roof over my head.-

This brings me back to the last $10, and InStyle magazine in its glossy perfection. The March edition with 'The wonderful women of OZ' on the cover, and what is that I see? A free Oroton linen notebook and pencil? I love writing, I write everyday, so ultimately buying this magazine with my last $10 wouldn't be so moronic, no no no my friends it would be a practical and dare I say a wise investment, because ultimately I know deep down inside that one day I am gonna write the crap out of those unlined pages! And I'll probably be writing and doodling upon the pages whilst I'm gallivanting about New York City... It's important to dream big, but more so to live bigger – one step at a time.

Step 1: Enjoy reading InStyle magazine.
Step 2: Get a job you bum!!
Step 3: Butter parents up for extended stay by buying them gifts with the money from your new job.
Step 4: Goodbye social life, save, save, save...
Step 5: Hello NYC.

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

Post Script: Never let anyone tell you how to spend your last $10, it is after all yours to play with. Enjoy it.

to Valentine or not to Valentine?

In anticipation of Valentine's Day, and the fact that a friend asked me to write him one whilst he was drunk (how romantic). I give you my 'Valentine' for a friend.

Dearest ......... ,
It is of my personal choice to not believe in Valentines day, I think it is both a scam (thanks Hallmark) and that it is horrible to only show love one day a year - who cares that is Feb. 14th?
Here is some well researched information on the 'special' day that has men buying flowers, chocolates and cheesy cards.

ORIGIN (s)
The Catholic Church recognises at least three different Saints named Valentine or Valentinus, all of which were martyred. Please note these three were ALL based on legend alone.

1. V-dog was a priest during the 3rd Century in Rome, whom recognised the injustice bestowed upon single men by Emperor Claudius II; the injustice being that single men made better soldiers, so he outlawed marriage. So our good Priest V-dog would perform secret marriages between sweethearts, until he was found out - and well, completely fucked in the worst possible way (killed).

2. V-dog was imprisoned and sent the very first 'valentine' to a young girl that happened to be the jailers daughter, after she had visit the prison and he had fallen in love. Right before his death he signed the letter 'From your Valentine' Oh he had also helped other (Christian) inmates escape the Roman prison.

And then there was the third guy, I'm sure he was equally heroic to a certain degree, and of course a romantic (maybe he liked little girls as well?) Whatever it may be, Valentine became one of the most popular Saints in England and France.

–and then came Hallmark rubbing their greedy paws together in sheer delight –

The origin of the date is to do with the burial or death of our beloved Valentine Saint. Oh there is also a legend in regards to Pagans and the celebration of Lupercalia on Feb. 15th. Lupercalia was a fertility festival dedicated to the Roman god of agriculture - Faunus. Basically Roman Priests (drunk and naked?) would gather together at a cave and sacrifice goats & dogs, you know for purification and fertility. They took the strips of goats hide to the streets and slapped women and crops with it. The women welcomed this action because they wanted to have babies in the coming year. Then there was some raffle in an urn of all the young women in town, bachelors would draw a name from the urn and that woman would be theirs for the year - marriage optional, babies a must.

By the 5th Century Lupercalia was outlawed for being 'un-christian' and the Pope - a dude called Gelasius declared Feb. 14th St. Valentines Day. It was during the Middle Ages however that V-day became associated with love, because of the birds mating season in England and France.

FACT: the oldest known Valentine was written in 1415 by the Duke of Orleans, Charles. It was a poem to his imprisoned wife in the Tower of London.

Next came the 17th Century in which the US, Canada, Mexico and Australia joint the UK and France in celebration. And from the 18th - 19th Century small gifts were given with love notes, and by the 1900's printed cards replaced letters.

*a fun fact for greedy Hallmark: an estimated 1 billion V-day cards are sent yearly. Rub hands together in your big chair - bastards*

FACT: Valentines day is the second most celebrated holiday worldwide.

Finally let me just say it is beautiful to show your lover you care, but why just one day? And why with a card that you simply sign names in? If you were my 'Valentine' it wouldn't be a once a year thing, it'd be all year round poetry, cleaning and cooking. Because sometimes I can be sweet, even though cheesy romance makes me hurl. And nothing is sweeter than a home cooked meal waiting for you after work, both practical and delicious. At least, it sure beats a fucking card once a year.

Love ...... xx.

PS: Roses are red, Violets blue.
Sugar is sweet, you are too.
[As I write this sweet note for you, I'm suppressing my vomit & gagging too.]

PPS: Happy Valentines Day.

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.