Day 2: An Open Letter to Virgin Australia

I was travelling yesterday. My first ever connecting flight by myself. An hour and a half to disembark, find the gate, go to the loo, find some food, sit down and wait. Easy, right? Apparently not.  As my flight landed in Sydney I was pumped and ready to go. I turned my phone off flight mode and suddenly ping. ‘Virgin Australia apologises flight [insert flight number here] on 01 Sept is delayed. New departure time is 1905.’ Yes, this was frustrating, especially when my initial flight was supposed to land at 1805. But flights get delayed all the time, things go wrong – it’s understandable and not the issue earning this post.

No. The issue comes after I have left the plane, paced the airport back and forth a couple of times and find myself at a Virgin counter. Not particularly wanting to spend the next three hours hanging around an unfamiliar airport I asked for a possible flight change. A ‘please chuck me on any plane that leaves earlier, I will sit in the bathrooms if I have to’ request. There I was told that four previous flights had been cancelled, and that my 1905 delay was in fact the next earliest flight.

So wait I did. Outside the gate for the first two hours, then it happened. Over the speakers: an announcement for the soon to be boarding Canberra flight – leaving half an hour before mine. I watched people from my gate stand up and head down towards the gate. People from my flight. People who were not just aware that earlier flights existed, but had gotten a ticket. I packed up my stuff and stalked, to my frustrated shock it wasn’t a mistake – it was most certainly a flight, leaving before mine, to Canberra. I was not told that there was another flight with no availability. I was told, directly that there were no earlier flights. No. Earlier. Flights. Yet there in front of me was an earlier flight. Boarding in right in front of my eyes.

But my waiting was not over there. Oh no. Five minutes before estimated boarding it was discovered that the Captain and his first mate were not at the gate. The Captain of the plane, was not at the plane five minutes before estimated boarding. I appreciate the employee at the counter, trying to make us all laugh in that moment, because there was murder in the eyes of everyone waiting. Four cancelled flights, multiple delays, a missing Captain. These people, myself included, were about one more case of Murphy’s Law away from homicide. So thank you Virgin counter lady for keeping the tone as light as possible to prevent disaster. You were one of the best parts of one of my most frustrating days.

So Virgin Australia, I know that you have a hectic job – trying to organise flights. Getting people from A to B is intense. Just a word of advice, try not to tell frustrated people that there are no more flights when there are. It’s frustrating, it’s rage-inducing, it’s infuriating. It prompted the awakening of the inner psycho stalker within me. I can safety say that I didn’t have a fun travelling experience, and from the murmurings of the passengers around me when we finally landed in Canberra, I was not alone.

Frustrated traveller girl out.

 

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Day 1: Roll for Nerd Damage

September is here. That means I will now officially start my challenge of writing a post a day. Yeah, I realise that I didn’t outright say that in the original post so to the everyday person it looks like I outright failed my own challenge on day one.

But alas. Here I am. On a plane. On the first day of pre-Halloween month. There is a baby crying behind me and someone sleeping beside me. The normal plane stuff.

No matter how travelling anywhere sounds like it’s a great thing to blog abut. I’m not going to. Because my travelling so far has consisted waking up, playing Overwatch for too long, forgetting what time I needed to leave the house, and packing final items about 2 minutes before I had to walk out the door. Not the eventful travel story for the ages. More of a study of my absolutely shitty ability to read a clock.

Instead I am going to talk about a quiz. Anyone who knows me knows that I kinda love Dungeons and Dragons. I play two campaigns, attempt to DM another, and spend more time making characters than being productive. So when I came across a ‘What D&D Character Would You Be?’ quiz in my daily social media scroll it was evident that this quiz would define my entire life. Who cares about horoscopes? Your alignment is what’s really going to tell me if we’ll get along. This is the second biggest defining quality behind your Hogwarts house.

Of course, I had pre-disposed ideas of where I sat in the world of D&D – a Chaotic Good Gnome Ranger. Maybe a Halfling, something short. So I set down to fill in this quiz while waiting to board, ready to have my suspicions confirmed. And, I was kinda right. Pretty close actually. Sporting high stats for Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma – here I stand, a Lawful Good Elf Druid/Ranger. Half a point to knowing I sat at the upper end of the alignment scale, another point for getting Ranger – if only secondary class. My constitution is horrible, yay me, and while I still only sit at first level in both my classes – I can see badassery in the future.

Who cares what Sagittarius can tell you about my personality. Psycho-analyse the Slytherin Lawful Good Elf Druid/Ranger. I’m here to talk a lot, pet animals, kick ass, and help people. It might not be a Chaotic Good Gnome, but damn. I’ll take it.

Dorky Elf Girl out.

Post a Day: Let’s Do This Thing!

I’m setting myself a challenge.

Anyone scrolling through this blog will notice something – I post, on average, yearly. Like, we are talking real slack here. I begin every year with this bright-eyed, bushy-tailed positivity that ‘yes, I am going to post weekly, fortnight, MONTHLY’. Then I get to work, write a post – chuck it up here and then BAMB. Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada.

I love to write. It is my favourite thing. But then when it comes to this blog I’m either running on empty for ideas, inspiration, basic paragraph structure.

I find myself staring at the blinking line, waiting for me to write, thinking ‘what can I put on my blog.’

Everything. Anything. Literally anything. It’s my blog. Duh.

So. Guess what. I am going to set out to write something, anything. Everyday for a year. I will write something about something. And I will do it. EVERY SINGLE DAY.

So let’s get started.

 

He Drew a Knife – A Short Story

*** Danger! Danger! The following story contains not PG-rated language! Proceed with caution***

He drew a knife and promptly proceeded to quite loudly exclaim, “Oh piss it”

The victim of what was supposed to currently be a murder stopped shaking. “What?” she yelled, hands flung into the air.

“I brought the wrong knife” he cried, waving the plastic toy in her face, “Bloody hell. I must have grabbed my son’s by mistake. Fuck”

“Oi. Language!” the victim cried, “If anyone it gonna be swearin’ it’ll be me, matey”

“I can’t ruddy well murder you with a plastic knife now can I?”

“Then use your imagination Goddamn it. What kinda serial killer are you, if ya can’t work with a plastic knife” she slumped against the wall and checked her watch.

“Fine” he yelled, digging through his bag. He drew a gun. She gasped, he pulled the trigger and…

click, click, click.

The victim groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Let me guess, you’ve got a toy chainsaw in there too, aye” Our killer just stood there pulling the trigger again and again and again to no avail. “Give me that” she ripped the gun from his hands and threw it down the alley. “Ain’t there nothing in this bag that could actually kill a person?” she said crouching on the floor and rummaging through the bag. “Toy axe, toy ninja stars, toy throwing knives, toy sword. You are the worst serial killer to have ever tried to kill me, you know that? Is this an action figure?”

“A what?”

“An action figure, like a doll but named differently due to society’s standards of seeing feminity as weak and havin’ to change the name of ‘dolls’ so boys will buy em an’ shit”

He stared at her, she waved the action figure in his face with attitude to spare.

“Fuck,” the killer said, swiping the bag from her hands

“What did I say about language?”

“I took the wrong bag”

“Whatta you mean you took the wrong bag, it’s the only one here you numpty”

“I mean that I took the wrong bag this morning, this is my son’s murder bag”

“Well you gon’ an’ fucked up aven’t you matey”

“I’ve got to go” he hastily shoved the plastic weapons back into the bag and swung it over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you same time next week then, maybe you’ll try an’ bring actual weapons that time” she called out as he rushed out of the alley, he wasn’t listening. Someone suburbs away a young boy was murdering teddy bears with legitimate weapons. As he ran out onto the street he was filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. His car had been parked on a tow away zone and was now nowhere in sight. With an annoyed sigh and a ‘this day can’t get any worse’ he trudged back into the alley to ask his victim for a ride home. She was standing there leaning up against the wall, already jinglingly her car keys.

All I Know Now by Carrie Hope Fletcher – Review

When I saw All I Known Now in Big W one faithful day I screamed – abandoned my journey to get a PS4 (on sale) and ran to the book section. I looked at its yellow cover, picked it up, flicked through the pages and very soon it was sitting on top of my PS4 at the counter. This, however, didn’t prevent me from actually starting reading it like 10+ months later. University and laziness, it happens.

But it’s all okay now because I have read it. All it took was a holiday to Perth (throughout which I spent a considerable amount of time in my room, with my head firmly stuck in the pages of this book) As you can imagine what I class as a ‘considerable’ amount of time probably wasn’t much in the long run because this book barely left my hands, in fact, I think it spent more time in my reading embrace than it ever spent on the bedside table on that trip. I’m not sure you really even read this book because it didn’t feel like reading to me. It felt like sitting down to a cup of tea with a friend, and this friend just so happens to be Carrie Hope Fletcher.

My Carrie Hope Fletcher backstory: So, the first time I heard about the internet’s big sister was actually a collaboration with Danisnotonfire, the YouTube clicking maze began and I was on her channel within seconds. That’s where I found it. The song that played on repeat on my iPod for months on end. What I still class to this day as my song. Boys in Books are Better.

So yes, I am a fan of Carrie’s, hence the screaming and running to her book in my local Big W. (I wonder if any of the staff would still recognise me?) Which is why the language used in this book feel so much like a conversation to me. The references, the side commentary, right down to the words she uses. It’s all just so Carrie. I read a majority (if not all) of the book in her voice. As I smiled and laughed and occasionally muttered things such as ‘oh no’ under my breath.

But this in no way means that if you aren’t a fan of Carrie’s you won’t enjoy this book. The advice in this book is not only given out to those in the confines of Hopefuls. It is open to anyone in need of it.

Trust me, the advice in this book, I sure needed it a couple of years ago. Not that I haven’t been using the advice now, because I have already started my new outlook on admitting I am wrong (which is hard, I must say) and trying to be the bigger person, but some of this stuff would have been great a few years in advance. Do you think I can send this book back in time? Maybe I should just tell every teenager I know to read it instead. Because hey guess what guys, I was the shy, kinda awkward, nerdy girl who wanted people to like me and so much of what Carrie has poured into this book just resonates with me. Do you know what helps it resonate even more? Musical theatre and Doctor Who references.

For one, All I Know Now isn’t sectioned off into parts but Acts – it may be a small detail but from the moment your eyes hit that contents page it’s so Carrie-esque. The tributes to the theatrical parts of her life don’t stop there.

Yes, there was a particular chapter of this book that had me singing Wicked songs for a whole day. I kid you not. I will admit that I even put the book down (GASP!) to grab my iPod and listen to Thank Goodness a couple hundred times. Then of course, there’s the Les Mis, gosh this book made me want to go see Les Mis again every day until I die of Musical Theatre exhaustion. Musical Theatre fangirl aside, Carrie knows how to connect with an audience, she does this with her acting, she does this with her music and she most certainly does this with her writing.

With her words of wisdom delivered through a collection of fun, amusing and a little too relatable stories, Carrie has written a book that can help and put a smile on the face of anyone. It doesn’t matter if you’re a Hopeful or Musical Theatre geek. A teenager or a child at heart. Human, wizard, Time Lord. Whether you’re reading this book in your room, dorm, car waiting to pick up your kids, TARDIS or even Hogwarts – this novel with its bright yellow cover and girl with the Hermione-level frizzy hair is sure to brighten your day. You know what’s even better? You’ll also learn a lot on the way.

 

 

 

 

Crazy Cat Lady in Training

I am a crazy-cat-lady in training. Now before you ask, I only have one cat. Yes, I’m sure. Just the one. This whole ‘cat-crazed training program’ isn’t about me exceeding legal cat limits and filling my house with furry, purring creatures. Nor is it about my pre-planned future cat names (Moriarty, Loki, Salem, and Khosekh, if you were curious.) Oh no, this revelation is something different entirely.

Let it be known that I am a MASSIVE cat person. I don’t mean in the ‘dogs are horrible’ way, because come on, dogs are effing cute. No I mean in the ‘I REALLY JUST LOVE CATS’ way. I do also have a particular friend who is very, very, very (let it be known that at this point the word very looks fake and its causing a crisis, but back to the cat point) anti-cat. Which I don’t understand because cats are cute furry balls of demonic hatred and claws, and I love it. Yes, my cat can be a little evil (he once scared the crap out of a air-conditioning repair guy by staring at him through the window with death and hatred in his eyes) but that’s beside the point. Not even the occasional malevolence of my cat will distract me from my love of cats. This is the very same cat that used to get stuck a top palm trees and once fell into a fishpond in a high speed moth chase. I love my clumsy, evil cat.

If you need further evidence in my cat person claim here it is. I see a cat, any cat. A neighbour’s cat, a random cat, a picture of a cat, often my own cat. Any cat in general and I will stop. I will turn my attention to the cat and announce its presence to anyone, or often no one, by pointing and quite loudly stating ‘CAT!’. I am assured that the people around me are like “Yes, we can see that the creature over there is a cat.” But I will announce the animal’s existence anyway before, in full Baymax style, approaching/chasing the previously stated cat.

As I said crazy-cat-lady in training over here. Should I be wearing L plates?

But wait there is more. Yes, the tipping point of my crazy-cat-ladydom. Steve/Alan and Han Melow, the cats. Now you’re probably confused. Context time. So I am a very fandom and shipping orientated (i.e. obsessed) individual and on occasion I will write small, itty-bitty, paragraph long fan-fictions and send them to my friends. What does this have to do with cats you ask? Well. At the beginning of last year Starbucks (Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, not the coffee shop guys) moved into the prime real estate of my OTP (One True Pairing) and with that came a lot, and I mean A LOT, of itty bitty fanfictions filling up my friend’s inboxes. Within this array was Steve/Alan the cat. Bucky’s cat. Bucky’s cat named after Steve because he gets lonely, but Steve of course is unaware of this so in his presence the cat is Alan. It’s a little weird, I know, its more confusing for the poor cat. But trust me, its also super cute. I guess one cat related fan-fiction is okay. An isolated incident, right? Nope. As 2015 drew to a close, here came the new Star Wars and with the new Star Wars came new shipping prospects. One gif set of John Boyega with a cat on Tumblr and suddenly StormPilot (Finn and Poe Dameron) needed a cat. This one was Han Mewlo (the cat). Yeah I know super original, calm down matey it was the name that just stuck in my head, okay. Another long list of unread messages hit my friend’s phones as I created another non-cannon cat. While there may only be two at the moment, I can assure you there are more to come.

My brain never says ‘You know what, today these people are going to have a dog/bird/fish/pet rock.’ No, its always a cat. Even with my own characters, you guessed it, there is usually at least one per story with a cat. My non-cannon cat collection will grow and so will my actual cat collection. I might only have my one clumsy, evil, air conditioning scaring kitty cat (and two fictional cats to accompany my shipping) at the moment but I am still only in training. While I read back over this in disappointment at my lack of cat based puns and contemplate running the entire post through Kittify, I know that one day my cat shaped L plates will come off and my training will be over. I will be a certified crazy-cat-lady, ready to share my love of cats with the world in fully licensed glory. But for now I will write cats into my stories and have full blown conversations with my loud, annoying yet beautiful feline as he asks for food 5 minutes after he has been fed. For the time being I have already got a bit of the crazy, and I don’t need my training to be completed to really love cats.

 

Oh Gosh, I’m Growing Up!

Long time no post. Yes, it’s been over a month since Christmas – therefore, its been over a month since I last posted anything. Not good. I have since finished the complete Grimm’s fairy tales and maintain the idea that I don’t want to get magically transported to a fairy tale wonderland anytime soon. So what have I been doing? Well apart from some new found obsessions with Teen Wolf and How to Get Away With Murder and of course making my way through my Critical Reading novels (there are seven) I have been staring at the unavoidable abyss that is growing up. In approximately 290 days I will be 18. Yeah, I know its only 18, but 18 equals legal adult. Ad-ult. No more looking around for an grown-up or parental signatures. I will be the grown up. That’s kinda scary.

I know that the clock isn’t going to just click over to that big 18 and suddenly all my responsibilities are going to hit me in the face. They’re doing that already. The thing is that once I’m 18 the world will stop seeing me as a teenager, instead look at me as a adult – responsibility not included. I will have a say in the government, I will be able to vote. I will be able to consume alcohol in restaurants instead having to look at the waiter frantically when they place the wine glass on the table and say ‘Oh, no. I’m 17’. To little kids I won’t be a ‘Big Kid’ but instead a ‘Grown Up’. The seat at the grown ups table will finally be open to me and I will be able to follow the intense conversations on politics and taxes, you know: grown up stuff. Because I will be an adult.

I’m not going to lie – there is no way I will understand politics or taxes in 290 days time. Give me another year and I still won’t know what’s going on in parliament. But none of that stops the fact that by the end of this year, I will be 18 and in some ways its a big deal. In others its not. Its life. You grow up and usually its not the age brackets that really distinguish maturity. Whether your sixteen going on seventeen, seventeen going on eighteen or eighteen going on forty-two. Its just a number and you have a year to be that number. Only one – so have fun. Instead of worrying about turning 18 in 290 days I am going to relish in the fact that I still have 290 days to be The Dancing Queen.

A Grimm Topic

Merry Christmas. Yes, It’s Christmas time again the part of the year stacked with food, friends, family and much-loved Christmas Specials. But none of that is the topic of this spiel, oh no, this is all about one particular present. This morning I received ‘The Complete Grimm’s Fairy Tales’ which I’m not going to lie got me pretty excited. I love fairy tales, absolutely love them so of course I began reading straight away. 18 through the 211 and I’m starting to find it somewhat amusing. You don’t quite understand just how ridiculous (in a good way) our much-loved stories are until you read the originals. From the outrageously ‘creative’ titles such as Brother and Sister, The Wolf and the Seven Kids and my personal favourite title, The Story of the Youth Who Went Forth to Learn What Fear Was. Yep, the titles are definitely straightforward, none of this airy-fairy irrelevance. But, it’s the stories themselves that prove the most amusing. Now trust me, I’m not hating on Brother’s Grimm, I love these stories. However, we must always be willing to appreciate the flaws and unorthodox aspects of our passions and really this more of a list of reasons why I’m happy I’m not living out my Grimm happily ever after.

For one, I am rather concerned about the large majority of magic-induced muteness that plagues the land of fairy tales. It appears that the only way to make someone pay is to stop them from talking – eternally – or at least until some nice King comes along and sorts everything out. Now, I must say I talk a lot, and an enchantress could easily earn her payback but shutting me up.
Secondly, mothers and most certainly step-mothers aren’t all that fun to be around when you’re living your happily ever after. From the mother who was quite willing to let her children die out in the woods in Hansel and Grethel (yes, it is spelt like that in the book) to the ‘lovely’ jealous step-mothers who send their step-daughters out in peril because they are more beautiful.
Then of course there is the most concerning aspect of fairy tale lifestyle. Trade. The most commonly traded or passed over item is not gold, or jewels or even hands in marriage – although it comes a close second. No, in the land of magic and awe, people trade children. Can’t pay for kid any more? That’s all good, just pass them over to the next person who walks past your door. Want something more than anything? It’s OK I’m sure a helping hand will happily take your first-born child. In fact, Rapuzel – yes, our much-loved blonde in need of a haircut – was traded for vegetables.

Those are just some of the reasons why I’m maybe not looking for a fairy tale – maybe just holding in for that ending. Although I was a little disappointed to find that not one of the 18 stories I have read so far opened with Once Upon A Time, I still believe that even though I wouldn’t won’t to live in them I still thoroughly enjoy reading them.

I shall leave you all now with a note in a quote:

“Stop waiting for prince charming. Get up and find him, the poor idiot may be stuck in a tree or something”

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Oh no. Another whole year!

So, some of you may have heard the news. Yes, I’m talking about the Sherlock news. The next season (season 4) will be kicked off with a special. Woohoo! That’s the good news. Here comes the other bit…filming doesn’t start until 2015. Yikes. You know what that means, yes, the humble Sherlockians have to go another year of the painful, sherlockless existence. Let me give you a quite stat I learnt from Tumblr – at the time of calculation it had been 1396 days since A Study in Pink aired, of those 1396 days the show has only been on air for 42. In fact, if you were to sit down and watch all the episodes in a marathon, without stopping it would only take you 14 hours. Therefore, I am here to give you my three handy tips on how to fill the hole that Sherlock left, or at least how to try.

1. New TV Shows
No, this isn’t blasphemy merely a proposition. But you must be careful, what can start as a casual watching activity can quickly uncontrollably swerve into a whole new obsession. So you must tread carefully. Luckily for me, the show I chose, Supernatural, currently has 9 seasons. Unfortunately I am slowly creeping towards the end and soon I may be faced with the inevitable waiting for two shows to hit my screen again. Double the shows, double the insanity.

2. Books
Find a book series, or maybe a hundred. Next time you find yourself staring at that blank TV thinking about re-watching all the episodes for the thousandth time stop yourself and go pick up a book. If your lucky this new series may even have some movie adaptions. If you really can’t leave the Sherlock universe alone, go pick up the original books or stock up on some mystery novels. There are so many books out there for you to try that the time between now and the next series will be over before you know it.

3. Tumblr and Good-Old Stalking
OK, I know that sounds a little creepy, but hear me out. There is nothing better than finding out what the cast is up to. New movies, appearances in other TV shows. Missing Sherlock and Watson? Just go watch The Hobbit. Yeah, I know, it’s not the same but you can still see them and know that they are doing well. What about Tumblr? You ask. Well. You will never fell like you are alone in the world when you know that there all people on the internet having mental breakdowns too. Go follow so Sherlock blogs and relive all the best of the show with your new internet support group – or at least get in heated arguments with them.

So there you have it. Three – well technically four – ways to try fill the void. Good luck my dear Sherlockians, the game is on.

The 11th Doctor and River Song

(NOTE: Click the title to view the image)

The 11th Doctor and River Song:

A self-made tribute to one of my many ships.