Wandering Home.


I, like many of you, suffer from a beautiful condition called wanderlust.

Having said that, I am fortunate to have won a geographical lottery. I can savor glorious locally made produce,  enjoy french champagne while watching a beautiful sunset on a mountain, and scale riverside cliffs without going more than half an hour from my home.

That, is the beauty of Brisbane.

For those of you who feel you have to head south to Sydney or Melbournetown to get the best of the land down under, I say you underestimate what Queensland’s capital has to offer.

So regardless of whether you’re a local, or stopping by from interstate or overseas, here is a quick run-down of the best this city has to offer.

In a 24 hours.

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MALAYSIA DIARIES. Episode 1 : The Adventure Begins


The last few weeks have been boring. Completely mundane and exhausting. I apologise to everyone for anything and everything I have force written in the past few weeks cause I guarantee it was relatively terrible. Entirely because I’ve been feeling pretty terrible. The only interesting stuff has been breaking through walls and break downs at training (which to anyone outside of the cheer realm essentially has no meaning) and that guy that crapped the floor in the change rooms at work (which although I wasn’t there for, I sure laughed at A LOT when I heard about it). Apparently all work, no sleep and no play turn Natalie into an emotionally volatile mess…and are a substantial contributing factor to my recent epic face plants and head stacks. A human mess that sweats as much as it cries, rarely has time to eat and or sleep, has semi-formed and yet melodramatic actual human feelings about things, and packs in && breaks down every 2 days. Cyborg Nat worked and trained and worked and trained until she could do no more, and so, she jumped on a plane and flew to Malaysia.

Observation 1: Plane sleep does not equal real sleep.

Upon learning that my flight would take 8 hours my first thought was SLEEP. I had fond memories of the plane ride home from NZ last year when I continues to fall asleep during Megamind && took me the whole trip to watch it in its entirety. The seat reclined, mamma donated her in flight meals, and life was sweet. On my KL flight, I was fortunate enough to get the non-reclining seat && so I looked on with intense jealousy at my fellow passengers who were able to recline at an angle greater than 90 degrees, and as such, sleep without dribbling all over themselves. Of course my travel pillow was not really any help, yes it was smooshy and amazing, but it pushed my head even further forward and substantially increased the saliva flow, causing me to continually wake up mid-dribble and hope that no-one had seen me. On the upside, my constant awakening led me to not find myself in an epic pool of my own saliva, which is something that happens far too often when I crash out.

Eventually we landed in Malaysia. All in all the flight wasn’t too bad, no babies, semi-attractive man meat littered throughout the plane && no salmonella from the interestingly unfresh looking airline food. My first thought “OMG THEY HAVE GIANT MENTOS TUBES HERE!!!!!!”, swiftly followed by “Damn there’s a lot of palm trees here.” I jumped in the cab and took my first looks at this land where palm trees outnumber people, indicators are fast becoming obsolete, unnecessary seat belt use if riding behind shotgun, babies on motorbikes, reversing sensors, and FOOD. Oh so much food; Western food, Asian food, desserts, fast food restaurants, coffee shops. EVERYTHINGG!!!. And all oh so inexpensive. Naturally my first question was “If there’s so much food && its all so beautifully priced, why is everyone so skinny??” Apparently the heat and humidity mean that everyone sweats out all the calories that they consume. I maintain that there MUST be something in the water cause I come from Queensland where it is hot && humid as a mother and we have enormously fat and sweaty people all over the place. Maybe if they turned off the aircon in KFry, Mickey Dees, and the Queen street food court Australia wouldn’t be the fattest nation anymore. Or.. undeterred by the heat, fatties would continue gorging on junk and we would become the fattest and the stankiest nation as all the skinny decent smelling people would GTFO. Not that I’m really in a position to judge the fatties considering my plans for the week include a healthy routine of sleeping, eating, and more sleeping, followed by a potential shock on the scales when I get home.

Who am I kidding, I’ve earnt my right to pass judgement on those who don’t love themselves enough to take care of their bodies, and as such, learn from their example and NEVER treat myself like junk.

So after a half day of eating, shopping, exploring and being introduced to new friends who are so kind as to show me around and let me crash under their roof thanks to my dear cheer friend, I crashed….and hard.

Eggs.


Sometimes I wonder about myself. 

I mean, I think about myself almost 24/7, but sometimes I float out and have a look at myself from the outside. 

This morning I saw a lizard.

I have concluded this morning that along the evolutionary scheme of things, when it comes to eating….I’m not very far along.

*nb none of the following reflects on my upbringing. trust me…i’ve been taught to know better.

I maintain that I’m book smart.. life smart…not so much.

This mornings approach to eggs proved this to me. 

Not only did I have to google how long to cook eggs for (because I didn’t steal the egg timer from mammas && cbf searching through the nest for someone elses)

But I decided to make soft boiled eggs (the best way to have eggs) without owning egg cups to consume them from (probably another thing I should have borrowed from mum)

Nevertheless, I got myself out a plate, as if in some deluded fantasy I might be able to eat my pre-bed snack in some sort of civilized way.

For those of you who are lucky enough to have never been in the kitchen with me at breakfast//egg time…I feel I need to point out my approach to cracking the shells. 

Instead of daintily tapping at the shell with a knife, I’m a smasher.

By smasher I mean I will drop//throw the egg repeatedly on the kitchen counter until the shell is so shattered that it just comes right off. 

For some reason it didn’t register that the insides would be all gooey and I wouldn’t be able to transfer the delicious insides onto my plate and eat them with a spoon in a humanlike fashion. 

Instead after several smashes I realised that the eggs were quite gooey delicious, but also completely impractical. 

So in a lizard like fashion I licked and sucked out the inners, leaving behind the shells on the paper towels I’d laid down to save the kitchen. 

It was halfway through the second egg, as I was drinking the insides, the thought popped into my head… what would my housemate think If she woke up and walked into the kitchen to find me with my tongue in an egg with shells scattered around me..what must I look like.

Lizardy

Perhaps even a Raptor

Not a lady. 

On the upside…the kitchen doesn’t look like its been raided by a starving reptile. 

So its not all bad…

 

Nat ❤

The final gorge.


Im now in my last week at the parental nest. I’ve found a new one, with real grown ups, and a pool. As such. I will become a real grown up…with a pool.

So I’m taking this opportunity to gorge on the plethora of junk food contained in the parental nest.  Being a poor uni student, my post-parental diet will surely consist of two minute noodles, cat food, and beans.

So due to the fact I will be unable to justify and//or afford junk food when I leave home, I’m taking full advantage of the opportunity to inhale as much as possible over the next few days.

Including, but not limited to, chocolate as a staple for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Dorito’s and dessert spoonfuls of nutella for second lunch.

And jatz && dip for second dinner.

Apologies to all if I get fat and//or repulsive.

Nat 🙂

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An actress' guide to love, life and making it BIG in an even bigger world.

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