These are my new shoes.







They're by Kobe Husk, who has called them the "Yeti." They're big, they're green, I kinda get the meaning in the name. I picked them up from Lady Petrova last week after I remembered they'd been on lay-by for almost a month (along with all my other lay-by shit sitting in Petrova's backroom..).

They're made of soft leather and are the most comfortable non-flats I have ever owned. I walked up and down the city in these while apartment hunting last weekend and felt zero pain. This is a huge plus considering my feet have decided that my heel-wearing day are over. It also means the height difference between my boyfriend and I isn't hilariously large.

This is the skirt I really want.


From Romance Was Born's latest collection. I found it for sale and am currently hoping that the teensy size 6 won't sell out before I convince myself to buy it. I keep asking people if it's crossed the border from amazing to horrendously ugly, like I actually expect people to like my weird choices in clothing, and everyone keeps telling me not to get it. In response, I start yelling things like, "BUT IT'S GOLD LAME" and "IT HAS TARTAN POCKETS. POCKETS!! THAT ARE TARTAN!!"

I love how disillusioned I am about the state of my bank account. Like I actually have money to spend on things.
Because I just bought tickets to South America. Because I'm actually going to climb up a mountain and see Machu Picchu.
Because I'm thinking about buying property.

You'd think all of these things would be more exciting than a gold lame skirt (with tartan pockets!!).

I got an email from my bank telling me how to set up a savings account. While I was trying to figure out if my bank telling me to save more meant anything about my spending habits, I scrolled down and found this nice 101-guide. It teaches me how to extend my fingers.



I'm left wondering though, if you didn't know how to use a computer, how would you get to your email inbox to read this message?

I have reached the pinnacle of my career.
Someone is making my Power Point presentation for me, which I will present tomorrow. I USED TO BE THAT SOMEONE.

Tomorrow I have been granted the privilege of making a detailed design presentation for a project I've been working on for the past 5 months. I have a feeling I was only given this because no one else likes public speaking.

I feel like this all the time.



People say you just know when you know, and I know.
And now It's like I get to carry this huge, amazing secret with me.

I wrote this exactly a week ago, and it's been sitting in my drafts folder since then. I let it mull about for so long because I couldn't find time to spend two seconds pressing the post button and it's just an odd little blog about nothing.

--

I'm wearing flats for the rest of this week because my feet still hurt from the wedding on Saturday. That is what happens when you spend three hours ushering at a wedding in heels that are too small for your feet.

Despite this, I had a fantastic weekend.
I met up with some friends, some of which still thought I was in Singapore (I've been back for one year, guys), and saw the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra at Video Games Unplugged: Symphony of Legends. IT WAS SO GOOD (David, I am actually only talking to you). Diablo III track, One Winged Angel from Final Fantasy VII, a Soul Caliber exhibition match with the orchestra playing the backing music and getting to laugh at 90% of the audience who clapped at the string instruments tuning.

I also managed to get tickets to Wil Anderson's closing show for the Comedy Festival.
"So I carry my bottle of urine past a Pie Face, past a Boost Juice, past another Pie Face they decided to place five metres down from the other Pie Face because apparently in Melbourne all anyone wants to eat are pies. And then you open the pie and there's a Pie Face face smiling back from inside your pie."
It was well worth the $35 I paid.

I just extended my Livejournal paid subscription service, despite the fact that I NEVER COME HERE ANYMORE. And the fact that the only thing stopping me from going to Peru is my bank account. Love getting my priorities right.

I just spent my four-day weekend sleeping. I mean, I broke the sleep up with some dumplings, attempts at baking fish, a Revenge Season 1 marathon, alcohol and drunken online shopping, but honestly, I was asleep 70% of the time. I'm kind of looking forward to getting back to work, if just to make me feel like I'm actually achieving something in life. That, and this week is looking to be entertaining. Dinner on Wednesday with a good friend of Ken's, Melbourne Symphony Orchestra on Thursday and a wedding to attend over Friday and Saturday. We all know how much I love a good wedding.

This is what I won't be wearing to this weekend's wedding (because I don't have photos of the dress I actually will be wearing and this seemed like the perfect segue into another belated outfit post), but I did wear this to a wedding of a university friend back in January. I had to hike up the train of the dress during an impromptu hike the environmental engineering friends and I took between the wedding and the reception.

( +++ )

Look, I'm finally getting around to doing this Sydney, Harry Potter, Picasso and Taylor Swift blog.

I don't even remember when Ken and I went to Sydney, but it was some time in the past month. I went to see the Harry Potter exhibition and Ken went for the free accommodation. We stayed at the Shangri-La hotel on The Rocks, which had an impressive $500/night view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House. Sadly, I took the view for granted and didn't take any photos, nor did I actually go to see the Bridge or the Opera House. Apparently I'm a really crap tourist when it comes to taking holidays in my own country.

I did, however, see the the Harry Potter exhibition at the Powerhouse Museum and some Picasso paintings at the National Gallery of New South Wales. 

Harry Potter was impressive, partly because the Hogwarts Express was on display (complete with smoke machine), partly because all the helpers put on English accents and claimed to be from Hogsmead and partly because I got to pull out fake baby Mandrakes. Ken was relatively unimpressed with the fake baby Mandrakes that cried every time you touched them. 

I'm in love with these green screen photos that exhibitions have started offering. I have one of Natalie, Tiffany, Ken and I at the Empire State building..somewhere..
Waste of money, but check out how excited I am in this photo.



Another highlight, apart from seeing Neville's cardigan, was finally (finally!!) getting a wand. They had about nine different character wands to choose from and, after much deliberation, I went with Luna's because it was the prettiest. (Then we went back to the hotel and instead of taking a photo of the view I spent an hour trying to poke Ken's eye out with it).



Picasso would have been amazing if my feet weren't falling off from wearing inappropriate footwear while walking all over Sydney's hills. Regardless, I was still appreciative of someone somewhere for convincing someone else to have Olga in an Armchair, Dora Maar and The Reader shipped to Australia. As for his cubism works, I can't say I was too impressed. I really tried to find the man and the mandolin in the Man With A Mandolin, but I really couldn't see anything but brown blocks and there's no point in pretending that I can. I did, however, get to watch a couple on an awkward first date.



I thought Sretsis' pegasus dress was appropriate for all the culture I was absorbing that day. Unfortunately no one told me that Sydney's dress code was strictly minimal clothing and micro-mini hemlines. I'm also confused with their clubbing culture. Ken and I went for dinner (at Sydney's Long Grain, which has a dismal one-page cocktail menu) at 7:00pm and saw people hitting the clubs. We finished dinner at 10:00pm (and I was drunk with a burning mouth from chilli-infused alcohol) and saw people getting kebabs. I felt like yelling IT'S NOT EVEN MIDNIGHT YET, WHAT'S HAPPENING??


( A couple of days later.. )

Cluck, cluck, cluck.

Feeling clucky, despite the fact that I am not responsible or mature enough to look after myself yet.

Trying to convince both my mother and boyfriend to get me some sort of baby animal. Puppy, kitten or chicken, I'm not really fussy.

I've have this one post lined up for weeks. I talk about Taylor Swift waving to me and almost poking my boyfriend's eye out with my wand (completely unrelated events), but apparently the thing that makes me want to blog is when a design team from Santiago come to visit and I have a really hard time being a professional 23 year old, as opposed to a giggling 16 year old.

It doesn't help when it's customary for them to greet and farewell by kissing on the cheek.

It doesn't help when someone uses their Leed AP credential as a pick up line and I find it oddly attractive.

It doesn't help when you have strict instructions from your boss to "go to a bar with them and buy them a round. Or maybe two or three. And don't come back to work."

Three reasons why I don't blog regularly anymore:

1. All my photos are on my camera. My camera is at home. I don't live at home anymore.
   I could talk all about how A Chorus Line was okay, considering Australia's small talent pool in the arts, but was somewhat mediocre at times when compared to the shows I've seen on the West End and Broadway. There was some good acting, a lot of good dancing, too many wigs and not enough good singing.
   I could also talk about how Ken and I went to Sydney for the long weekend and got blisters from walking seven kilometres a day in inappropriate footwear. But it would all be boring words and you wouldn't get to see the awesome wand I got from the Harry Potter exhibition.



2. I work ten hours a day



3. All the things I get to do when I'm not working have become more exciting than posting photos of things I'm lusting after