ImageHBO’s new comedy, Girls is insanely good (imo). Lena Dunham, a 25 year old New Yorker created, wrote, directs and stars in this hilarious new show.
It centers around the lives of four twenty-somethings, trying to start their lives in New York.
The uncomfortable, awkward humor and acting is just perfect. Only problem is, the episodes are only half an hour! I’ve heard mixed reviews about it but considering the heart and soul Denham clearly puts into the show, I can’t help but idolise her efforts.
Many LOLs are had throughout each episode without fail, but I keep thinking at the back of my head that that is so going to be me in like, a few years time.
I will be so gutted if this show doesn’t get picked up for multiple seasons!

My First Time (in New York City)

When I was 16 years old I was offered the amazing opportunity to go to New York City with 30 other girls as apart of a creative arts tour hosted by my high school. The moment I received the letter which informed me that I was a successful applicant I couldn’t believe it. As corny as it sounds it was a dream come true. New York was a place I had always wanted to go and having the opportunity to attend with a bunch of close friends would undoubtedly change my life. Even now, two years on, when I think back to that very moment I found out I’d be experiencing the big apple, my tummy still turns with joy.

On September 20th, 2010 after a 24 hour+ flight, we arrived in New York. It was night time when we got to Manhattan Hotel, just around the corner from Times Square. I couldn’t believe that it was real life. After we got settled, to celebrate our arrival, all 30 girls were joined by the 5 teachers on a group adventure to Times Square.

It was… I couldn’t even…Words can’t- … just wow.

I could honestly go on forever about my two weeks in New York but I’m going to try not to blabber on. So here, I present to you, freshly scanned from my adorable New York diary, the entry my 16-year-old self wrote detailing our first time experiencing Times Square:


In case my writing is difficult to decipher, the general jist of the story is as follows:
Collectively, we gathered on the glowing red steps right in the middle of Times Square. A man, who clearly had feelings of bitterness towards tourists approached us yelling “get off my mother-fucking steps, mother-fuckers!”.

And here, I am, moments after it happened:
ImageMy greasy, untamed hair teamed with the sloppy gettup and baggy eyes make it clear that I just hopped off a very long flight.

It was a wonderful welcome-to-New York gesture. Really though, us being a bunch of teenage girls found it hilarious. From then onwards, a group of friends and I adopted ‘mother fucker’ as our noun of choice.

There’s no doubt about the fact that going on the tour changed my life. I’m yet to go back but my bedroom walls are scattered with New York postcards, maps and polaroid pictures taken in the Abercrombie & Fitch stores (nom nom shirtless models).

Weekly Photo Challenge: Unfocused

A while back, I purchased an awesome DSLR camera to give myself incentive to pursue creative projects. After taking a collection of shots for a high-school assignment I didn’t bother taking the time to learn the ins and outs of the camera. Admittedly, all the photos I took were shot in auto mode (so shameful).

I’m at University now and recently a photography assignment popped up. I whipped out ye olde SLR to take some night-time, slow shutter speed shots (drifting away from auto mode… like a boss). I’m still finding the camera very difficult to use and thus far have gone through lots of trial and error to get the right shot. I had my mind set on taking a long-exposure shot, which apparently is quite a difficult task without a tripod (I learnt the hard way as you’ll see…).

The assignment was to create a photo story based on the prompt ‘The exchange’. So low and behold, my (intentionally/unintentionally… haven’t decided yet) unfocused photo:


You know when you look at a piece of your own work too long and you lose the ability to tell whether it looks artistic or crap? Well, that’s how I feel about this.

Don’t you feel so insignificant when

You meet a person, for like the third time?

I keep meeting this same damn person over and over again, groundhog day style. It always starts with a friendly conversation or small talk, then a few minutes into the conversation, he’ll ask for my name. So I tell him and then ask for his even though I know it because he’s bloody told me it three times before.

Another awkward situation I often find myself in is not knowing whether it’s appropriate to greet an acquaintance. It’s like: I know your name and I have you on facebook, but what if you don’t remember meeting me?
The amount of times I walk past a facebook friend without acknowledgement is ridiculous. Which reminds me, I have to do a facebook cull.

The other day I found myself approaching someone I had met multiple times before. I had my phone in hand, so interaction could have easily been avoided. Instead, I cool calm and casually smiled and said hey then continued walking. In response I received a sympathetic oh-a-random-just-said-hi-to-me-I-better-return-the-random-act-of-kindness smile.
So looks like I’m going to be one of those people, who greets passers-by just for the heck of it. Oh well, I’m cool with that.

People with poor public etiquette

On account of the fact that I spend much of my time in the city, I’m often around a plethora of strangers which for the most part, is not so bad. However, there are some people who really bother me, and to them I say:

Dear person who sits on the aisle seat of a full train, making that free seat in between you and the person sitting on the window seat barely accessible,
Despite my social awkwardness, I will step over your lap and squeeze into that free seat. This will probably result in our butts touching. Deal with it.

and to that dear person who stands on the right hand side of an escalator, disabling me from walking up or down in a rush,
I will stand right behind you and if you don’t get the hint, I’ll say, right into your ear: ‘scuse me! and brush past you

Thank you for your lack of consideration