That’s Stella

I’ve been umming and ahhing whether or not I should tell you this story. Which is really stupid, because it’s not that good a story. But maybe you can be the judge of that.

I had a crush on someone on the film set. Unfortunately - and I say unfortunately because it’s so terribly cliche - my crush was on one of our leading men. Let’s call him X.

There’s no other way to say it - but X is a well-known “heart throb”. When I told my girl friends this story, they all literally screamed and squealed.

So here it is.

I visited set - about halfway through the shoot - and he caught my attention. He was so handsome - even if he was in his character and wearing period garb. I thought he was smokin hot and I thought to myself that I’d need to try and visit set more often. I was feeling pretty great that day, wearing a beautiful floor length flowing dress and it was definitely not your usual attire you’d wear to set. I stood out. Which could be the reason why I caught his attention that day. Not only did I notice it, but a colleague I was with whispered in my ear “Um, don’t look now but X keeps checking you out…”.

Awesome!

As I walked back to my car, X tried to talk to me by butting into a conversation I was having with one of the folks on crew. But I got the attack of the nerves and whilst I was actually just being shy and coy, it probably came off like i was ignoring him and his existence. Whoops. Pull that shit in Hollywood and it’d be career suicide disaster.

Anyway lucky me. I didn’t even have to try to make lame excuses to go out on set when he was working, our paths crossed again shortly after our first encounter. I was asked to accompany and introduce a photographer to X, which was hilarious considering I hadn’t even met him formally myself. But X was having a bad day. He was being blunt and short with the photographer. He wasn’t interested in small chit chat. In turn, I didn’t go out of my way to be nice to X. In fact, you could say I was a bit frosty. And despite this, X out of the blue (whilst waiting for the photographer to set up) comes over to me and rests his head on my head.

Now fast forward to the wrap party. Everyone was trying to get a piece of him and I thought about ending my game, but quite frankly, it had been awhile since I felt this sexually attracted to someone, that it would have been a shame to be such a quitter. It was exhausting, but we managed to spend some time together. We took it in turns to find each other and met up every half hour to down a shot of vodka or tequilla, where he would then be whisked away by someone.

I don’t quite know how this happened, but by 2am I found myself standing on Aberdeen Street in Northbridge with the Director, and two of our leading men including X. Just the four of us. We had somehow managed to break away from the rest of our party and we were on the hunt for a drink. There was a lot of pressure on me. I was the only local in our group of 4 and remember, this is Perth. By 2am, most of the usual places I would have suggested were closed! I mean seriously, WTF Perth?

Being in the drunken state that we were, we just started walking along Aberdeen street trying to find a decent bar. I walked between X and our other actor, and as we walked past The Shed and The Dean, the funniest thing happened. I wasn’t kidding when I said X was a recognisable heart throb. In fact, our other leading man is also a quite known and popular with the ladies. So as we walked past these bars, the girls on the foot path all started recognising them. Heads were turning. Girls were pointing and grabbing on to their girl friends to alert them of their “celebrity” spotting. I’ve had the experience before, but it was still such a surreal (and hilarious) experience.

At the end of the night - you know, the part where everyone says goodbye - I still hadn’t made any progress and vice versa. It wasn’t looking promising. The alcoholic buzz that would’ve given me the balls to be a bit of a tart was slowly wearing off. Everyone was way too mellow for anything debaucherous to happen. So as we parted, I said farewell to the Director who I had become to know over the last 3 months. I hugged and gave a peck on the cheek to our other leading man and said goodbye, nice working with you, etc… And I purposely left X for the last goodbye.

X walked towards me. I know he was going in for a kiss but whether it was a kiss on the cheek, a kiss on the lips or a lingering hot pash was still up to the Gods. This was the last chance…

So, I went in for it. A full embrace. I don’t know how long it lasted, but as soon as I had my way with him, my hand was up in the air hailing down a cab. Thank God one was cruising by at the time. I hopped into the cab in a flash and I didn’t look back.

High fives!

Yeah except that after a Google search, it turns out X is gay.

With only two more days of filming to go, it was time for a full crew shot. All 60 of us. A sentimental token to remember the craziness that has been the last nine weeks.

Being the shortie that I am, ever since pre-primary, I have been doomed to the first row of a photo my entire life. There’s a lot of pressure in a group shot. If you have your eyes closed, you’re cross-eyed, yawning or your skirt is accidentally caught in your undies and you’re in the front row, naturally, you’re the first thing everyone notices.

As we gathered for the shot, I gave myself a pep talk.
“I am not going to be in the front of the shot. I am not going to be in the front of the shot. I am going to do all it takes to avoid being at the front of the shot”.
We have a huge crew and as I found my spot, I felt comfortable I had hidden myself.

But all of a sudden I realise I’m standing next to the Director…
And our lead actor.

And before I had time to move, the photographer on his ladder yells out
“The girl in the front. In the middle. Please take off your glasses!”

I turn to my left and go to look at the girl in the middle wearing the glasses, waiting for her to take it off so we could get on with it.

But there was no girl to my left wearing glasses. So I look to my right. Nothing but a sea of men.

I look in front of me and all the people who were once there, had now migrated to the sides.

Holy fuck.

Everyone is looking at me. The only one still wearing their sunglasses.

I take off my glasses and resign to the fact that I am the girl, in the middle, in the front.

We are now 6 weeks into the production of the TV drama I’m working on. We started shooting a few weeks ago and since then, it has been NUTS. I had a friend in New York who worked as a camera man on films such as Green Hornet and some documentaries. He would disappear from New York for months at a time and we wouldn’t hear a peep from him till he returned. After awhile, as sad as it is, he found it harder and harder to maintain friendships, mainly because friends would write him off as being constantly away. I kinda get it now. Working in film production makes your life come to some sort of a standstill. I work a 12 hour day and by the time I come home, I usually crash straight away. I was a night owl staying up till 1am, but since working on this film, I am passed out by 9:30.

I have however been making a special effort to try and go out at least once during the weekday with friends so they don’t write me off like my other friend! Last night we went to Nine Fine Foods and I have to say, it was one of the best meals I’ve had this year.

I wish I had more exciting gossip to tell you from the set, but it’s no fun having to sign confidentiality agreements. I will however tell you that our lead is in True Blood. I will also tell you that he is the only actor who has failed to even acknowledge me and it is driving me nuts! We see each other all the time and he blanks me. The other hot male lead is absolutely lovely and gets my name every time. Ahh well. He is no Javier Bardem…

A photo I took on my trip through the Swedish countryside

I’ve only been back 3.5 months and I already have the travel bug. And I can only think it must be serious because whilst I miss my friends in New York, Perth is being pretty kind to me lately. I love my job. And I mean, LOVE LOVE my job. The weather is beautiful. I love spending time with my little dog I had to abandon when I moved to the other side of the world. As much as they drive me bonkers, I love seeing my parents. And of course reconnecting with my Perth friends.

But on the drive to work this morning, out of nowhere, I remembered that feeling I had when I hopped off the train in Copenhagen months ago.
It’s funny that I’ve started missing Sweden, but at the time when I was there, I wasn’t having a great time. I was kinda over it and decided not to take any jobs that were offered. It was a bit of a lonely place and having being ripped out of New York, I didn’t feel I was in the right frame of mind to start all over again, especially with the Swedes who have a reputation for being hard to break into.

So I decided to travel. I figured I would eventually make my way to Berlin to stay with a New York friend who had recently moved there. So I took a train from Stockholm to Copenhagen. I met a friendly Swedish mom on the train who confirmed all my fears about the difficulty finding a social group in Sweden. I had such a beautiful and comfortable home in Stockholm and had just started becoming familiar with the locals who worked in the town of Bagarmossen, but what’s a home without lovely friends to fill it on a Friday night?

My lovely apartment in Stockholm

Taking a train from Stockholm to Copenhagen was the smartest decision ever. The Swedish countryside was absolutely stunning. It reminded me so much of all these Swedish films I had watched over the years. Stunning flower sprawled fields. Modest but lovely Scandinavian cottages. And beautiful lakes to go swimming in!

But as I neared Copenhagen, I all of a sudden got nervous. I had no fucking idea what I was going to do once I got off the train! I had barely read about the city which is funny considering I nearly moved there last year. But holy shit! I was literally on the edge of my train seat as we passed Malmo (the last stop in Sweden) and crossed the waters to Denmark. When I actually hopped off the train and followed the crowd to Koebenhavn Central Station, I was slightly anxious. I realized I was going to have to wing it. And I was excited!!! I was in a foreign city, on my own, I had no idea what to do, I was just going to have to use my smarts and sense of adventure to get through this. And boy do I miss that feeling! I was overcome with that feeling as I was driving to work, remembering how fucking cool it was to have no plans in the world, to be a little scared and to be in an absolute foreign city. Completely exhilarating. I am itching for my next big adventure.

When I got back to Perth, it was rather nice and a bit of an ego boost to get inundated with job offers, especially considering I was purposely trying to keep a low profile. I decided I wanted a break. It’s not very often in your adult life that you can randomly take 2-3 months off work. And whilst I was gallivanting around Scandinavia, it wasn’t exactly a break. It was an exploration.

Anyway within weeks of returning, I was receiving job offers from people I hadn’t reached out to, to let them know I was back in town. And the reason why I kept a low profile was to figure out what I wanted to do. For years now I have been planning an escape from advertising, but the offers were tempting because the pay was good and it would mean another quick escape from Perth. But being back in the parental unit meant that perhaps this was the time to take the opportunity to end that chapter of advertising and focus on being a Producer.

It was a tough decision. Earn a shit load and return to NY in a year or focus on my dream job?

I consulted with friends. I asked my parents. I consulted horoscopes and astrology for fun. I prayed to the big man above to give me some guidance.

And well, I turned down all the ad jobs. I thought it was time to end that chapter and move on. New York will always be there, but this kind of opportunity to start afresh isn’t. And thank fucking God I took that chance, because I scored my first production gig pretty quickly and following that first job, I was actually recommended for another job soon after that one ended. I am now working on a TV drama for one of the big networks here! I was absolutely stoked. Perhaps NY is closer than I thought.

I wish I could tell you that one of my fabulous gay friends in New York pulled through and proposed to me and bought me a ticket back to New York and we eloped at City Hall so I could stay in the country and I’ve been so busy living my lovely New York life. Yeah, I also wish I could tell you that I’ve been too busy to write because I’ve been cycling through beautiful Copenhagen with a handsome spectacled, bearded Danish lover. One can only wish.

I am back in Perth. Scandinavia and Berlin and London all seem like a wonderful dream now. To be honest, the constant traveling got tiring. I just wanted to settle in a place and call it home. I wanted my own wardrobe - to hang my dresses and not live out of my suitcase. I wanted to make a mess in a room I called call my own. To be honest, I felt at home everywhere I went, but when it came to packing it all up and trying to fit everything in my suitcase, it was a nasty reality.

Anyway you’ll be sure to hear about my Scandinavian adventures but for now…. the end of The Italian Story.

So I didn’t end up spending my last Saturday night in NY with The Italian. I told him I had plans to spend the night with my best friends, but I was free late Sunday night after dinner with my best friend Cornelius. I knew he had to work on Sunday, so we agreed to meet after he finished work at 11pm since he’d be just around the corner from my apartment.

My last Saturday night in NY was nothing but a New York experience. It involved getting very drunk. A massive karaoke session with friends singing love songs for me and ending in tears. A Brooklyn loft party with Jim Belushi. Getting kicked out of a Lower East Side dive bar in the wee hours of the morning. And ending the night with sad farewells and never ending hugs on a SoHo street corner at 5am. Just thinking about that night makes me melancholly.

On Sunday I spent the day with my best friends brunching at The Standard Hotel then chilled out in Madison Square Park drinking iced tea and people watching. My girl friends asked how I was going to handle the situation with The Italian later that night, but being the pessimist that I am when it comes to these things, I wasn’t entirely convinced I would even see him.

So I spent Sunday night having dinner with Cornelius at this most amazing and delicious new Mediterranean restaurant that opened a few blocks from my apartment. After dinner and goodbyes to my first best friend I made in NY, I headed home to continue packing. Now this also happened to be the night that Osama was found dead and there was crazy celebrations and partying (similarily familiar to when Obama was announced President). To be honest I was thinking of ditching the Italian and heading down town to the World Trade Center memorial to witness the celebrations, but at 11pm on the dot, the Italian messaged me and asked if he could come over.

Oh my God. I remember thinking “YES. I am going to get laid!!”. I ran around tidying the apartment, dimming lights, lighting some candles for sexy mood lighting, grabbing a bottle of red and a pair of wine glasses and fluffing up cushions.

When he arrived at my apartment, he looked so hot. He wore suspenders with a crisp white collared shirt, dark jeans and a black business jacket. I was expecting him to come in and we’d get on to business - Yes, I am so romantic. But when he came in, he asked me if I was ready. Ready? To go out? Uh sure. I grabbed my bag and off we went.

He took me to my favorite bar, The Spotted Pig. We had a couple of drinks and just talked. The place was pretty dead but we shared the bar with Rumer Willis and her friends. Around 3am, we caught a cab to this French restaurant in Greenwich Village that’s open 24 hours. He was an absolute gentleman. He opened the cab door for me, he opened the restaurant door open for me, he pulled back the chair for me as I sat down at our table, he asked what I wanted and when the waitress came around, he ordered everything. We chatted. We flirted. We held hands under the table. After we finished our supper, he did the slickest thing and excused himself from the table, walked up to the waitress at the bar and paid for everything. It wasn’t him paying for everything that impressed me, more the fact that he was so thoughtful to avoid that awkward bill situation later.

Here comes the real zinger.

As we walked outside, I had the feeling I would be going home alone. And before I could confront him about it, he pulled me close and rested his arms on my shoulders. He said he liked me. Pause. I could tell he was trying to find the words to explain what was on his mind. In broken English and a lot of pauses, he explained to me that he liked me a lot, but he had a girlfriend and wasn’t the type of guy that slept around. He explained that this was his way of taking me out on a date. He said he liked my smile and how I made him feel happy. He told me how beautiful I was and that he wished we had met at another time when he wasn’t involved. We kissed and said goodbye.

He offered to put me in a cab, but I told him I wanted to walk home. It was 5am, New York was so still. There were hardly any cars on 6th avenue, just some delivery trucks and some cabs. The city was so serene.

I walked home kinda high, but feeling deflated and I felt really bad. My closest friends knew I had no intention of wanting a relationship out of him, but it seemed I had given him mixed messages. I mean, I really truly just wanted a fling before I left New York and thought he would be the perfect one night stand. I know this is awful, but I didn’t really like LIKE him. He really wasn’t my type. I was so turned off how he had no drive or passion for a career. The last thing I wanted was to make a real impression on him or make him fall for me. I really just wanted to have a tonne of sex before I left New York, because I definitely don’t expect anything in Perth.

Isn’t that awfull? The one time I don’t really have feelings for a guy, but he develops feelings for me?

Since leaving New York he still texts and emails and calls to tell me how much he misses me….

So the last weekend I spent in New York was stressful. I was living this awesome lady of leisure life, but it was marred by all the stresses of packing.

I was leaving on the Monday night and had a farewell party on Friday night in Brooklyn. I invited a heap of New Yorker friends on Facebook, including The Italian who had recently added me. If I wasn’t leaving the country I would’ve thought any chance of romance was doomed after a Facebook request.

Imagine my surprise on Friday when I get a CALL from The Italian!! I was shocked when his name popped up on my mobile. I mean, it is rare to get a CALL from any guy in New York. He called to say he was going to come by to my farewell party, but wanted to make sure I’d still be there around midnight since he was having a late dinner with friends visiting. I told him it was definitely going to be a long night and I’d see him later.

So fast forward to my amazing farewell party. All my friends rocked up but it was hard to get quality time with everyone and it still didn’t quite hit me that I wouldn’t be seeing a lot of these friends again for a long time. Plus I still had 3 days left in New York, and I knew I’d be seeing my best friends throughout the weekend, so it felt more like a nice catch up with everyone.

The Italian rocked up just before midnight with a couple Italian guys. I was glad that most of my friends had bailed by then and it was just my best friends left hanging out and mingling, because I was super conscious about not wanting to give the Italian too much attention. He really didn’t deserve it.

It was all very awkward at first. He was so lovely and friendly and introduced himself to all my friends (who already knew of him) but my guy friends were being very protective and judgemental. “I don’t like him” “He’s not THAT good looking”, etc…

It took us half an hour to start making out. Then I felt bad… and disappeared to spend time with one of my best friends, Perry. The Italian found us an hour later holding hands in the corner of the bar. It was nothing sexual but I’ll explain more on that later.

So later that night/morning, my friends and The Italian are sitting around a bonfire. The Italian and I are sitting next to each other, we’re holding hands, our fingers intertwined in his lap and for the first time - we have a real, serious chat. About who we are, where we come from, our dreams, our inspirations, what makes us tick. He told me about his Japanese girlfriend - I knew he had yellow fever the moment we met. We spoke about relationships and how he believed in the traditional men and women roles and how he was over one night stands.

After the bar closed, we took some randoms from the bar, and the Italian and one of his friends, and we and continued partying at my two friends amazing Williamsburg loft. By this time it was 4:30am and we were smoking joints and drinking on their rooftop overlooking Brooklyn and had an amazing view of Manhattan.

While we weren’t overly smooshy, The Italian and I were cosy - holding hands and hugging each other. At one point in the morning, The Italian and I were spooning on my friends couch. My friend Jess later came up to me and said “You have to go for it. I just got confirmation that he really likes you.” But despite the niceities I was questioning it since I had given him so many opportunities and he wasn’t pouncing.

We left my friends place together at 6:30, and I thought he would come back with me to my place, but instead we held each other on the deserted street, kissed, and he popped me into a cab and he went in another. I would’ve asked him over if we hadn’t just chatted about how he prefers “traditional men and women roles”. I was so disappointed and hurt.

The following day, Jess called to find out what happened, and when I told her nothing, she yelled at me. I told her he didn’t seem interested in coming to my place, and she told me that when we were spooning on the couch, everyone, including The Italian’s friend were talking about us, and his friend confirmed that The Italian was very much into me. “He likes Stella. He likes her a lot”. So what the fuck?

On Saturday afternoon, The Italian texts me “Bacio”. I write back “I want you to give me a proper goodbye.” He texts back “What are you doing tonight?”.

My girl friends convinced me not to get involved with The Italian, which I thought was a little selfish (did I really just say that?!) considering I was doomed to head back to Perth, where guys have no interest in me and I have pretty much accepted that if I lived there for a year, I am not going to get laid for one year. SIGH.

Anyway I did feel a bit jipped by The Italian and stopped texting him. But… around mid April I started adopting “FUCK IT” as a life motto. It was my modern day take on Carpe Diem - Sieze the Day! It was all about being brazen, having no consequences and not making lame excuses for not doing things.

Want another drink? Response? Ahh fuck it. Fill me up.
He is cute. You should go talk to him. Response? Sure. Fuck it. Why not?
Five nights in a row partying? Response? Better make it six. Fuck it.

You get the drift.

So, after my encounter with Zach I promised myself I would never ever dress like a slob (even if it meant popping out just to get soda from the bodega) just in case I ever unexpectedly met someone where I had to create a great first impression. And my new take on dressing well served me right again when my girl friend and I were walking in the West Village and we bumped into The Italian. I was wearing a cute outfit - a simple cream dress that sat above the knee and had a big skirt like this one, with black tights, black pumps and a vintage scarf.

When The Italian saw me, he kissed me, introduced himself to my girl friend and looked at me and my dress. He blatantly checked me out and said I looked so beautiful and some other things that got lost in translation. We chatted briefly but I told him we were on our way somewhere and kept it short. My girl friend slapped me on the arm after and asked that I never put her in that same situation again. “I felt like the third wheel! He is obviously smitten with you - he could barely form a sentence. It would have all been very cute and adorable if I wasn’t there watching it in person”.

Later that week, Perry and I walked past his bar and he happened to be there. I’ll leave it to you to decide if that was a coincidence or not. The Italian saw me and waved from inside the bar, but I didn’t stop to say hello. Perry walked me home, and within 10 minutes of jumping into bed, The Italian texts “Where did you go?”. I wait a few minutes and text back “I’m in bed. When do you get off from work?” followed of course by a winky emoticon. Fuck it, right? He never texted back. I didn’t lose sleep over it.

Sorry for the slow updates. I’m in Berlin! I’ve been traveling like mad and meeting and interviewing with folks and now that I’m here, I feel like I can finally catch my breath. This city is so creative and grungey and full of people from all walks of life.

So perhaps you’re wondering what came of The Italian? After our mad pash in the bathroom while he was working?

Well, I thought it was the perfect situation. I was about to leave the country and this was obviously nothing but serious sexual attraction, so in my mind, it was the perfect last New York fling (since Salt and Pepper wasn’t going to satisfy that need).

Believe it or not, after that mad pash, we didn’t exchange numbers. Hence why I didn’t think it was serious. So I went in to his bar the following weekend with a girl friend, he plied us with free cocktails on the house, which resulted in me getting VERY drunk and asking for his number! Talk about being the man in the situation! It’s a bit of a turn off thinking about it now, but I thought “fuck it” - I had 4 weeks left in the country and god damn it, I wanted my fling!

I texted him the next day and asked when I was going to see him that weekend. His text responses were so brief and littered with his foreigness “Ciao” and “Bacio”. That weekend The Strokes were playing a show and he asked if I wanted to go to The Strokes after party that Friday night. I was stoked for the invite and thought it was a cool first date, but I had been avoiding doing laundry for 2 weeks and had nothing appropriate to wear (no black leather and all my cool black dresses were in the dirty pile) AND I kept thinking, who they hell is this guy? What if he was part of The Strokes cool possie and I couldn’t hold myself in that social situation? What if all his friends are cool Europeans and I couldn’t communicate with any of them (The Italian and I already had enough communication problems)? I kept thinking, well fuck! That is a lot of pressure for a first date. So with that thought and the lack of clean clothes, I declined his offer and told him I had plans.

He was cool about it and I asked what his Saturday was looking like.

Here comes the real zinger.

He says he has to see his girlfriend during the day, but asked if I wanted to go to the LCD Soundsystem after party with him. What the fuck!? I thought who is this guy to get invited to all these after parties, and wait. Hold on. I beg your pardon? Girlfriend?!!!!!!!

I really don’t know how I get myself in these situations (over and over again) but I suppose that will really teach me to not make out with attractive men before knowing their relationship status.

To be continued…

If you’ve ever moved to and from another country, you know it is a real bitch. I was not quite prepared for the pain of having to pack 4 years into two suitcases. Sure, shipping was an option, but do you know how expensive it is to ship belongings from New York to Perth? It would blow your mind. I ended up shipping my favorite winter coat, a few files and two pieces of art I couldn’t part with, and that alone was $400.

It’s funny how much shit you accumulate over 4 years. So, with the new start, the new chapter, I thought it was time to clense myself of unncessaries. I ended up donating 10 big bags of clothing and handbags to Housing Works (the American version of Good Sammys). I divided my awesome book collection and gave 10+ books to my closest friends. I gave my favorite furniture pieces (a very old and very valuable chest of drawers I found on a NY street corner and a more generic dark wood chest of drawers) to my best friends. Not only did they just move into a new apartment, but it was insurance that I would eventually return to NY for them. As silly as this sounds, it does give me some comfort to know I still have some belongings in NY - that I do have a life there waiting for me to return.

Hej hej! I’m drinking my favorite pear Kopperberg beer on the balcony of my Stockholm apartment as I write this! It’s been a crazy month so sit tight - over the next week I’ll be reflecting on my last few crazy moments in my beloved home - New York. xxx

I had three work farewell parties during my last week at work. Yes three. And that’s just with work folk. I felt completely spoiled rotten with the excessive showering of love. First there was a lavish and expensive dinner. Then the following day a colleague organized farewell drinks after work for me. Just as I was getting ready to leave and head to the bar, Salt and Pepper comes up to me, finally acknowledges that I’m leaving and tells me that he’ll meet me at the bar for drinks. I was shocked. I wasn’t even expecting him to come and thought this was the last chance to seal the deal and check him off the “TO DO” list before leaving NY.

I thought, if this was the final deal breaker, I better do everything/anything to make it happen. So I rushed home, had a shower and got ready in record time, changed into a black dress, sported my nerd glasses and red lipstick and walked over to the bar with my boss. Salt and Pepper was standing at the bar, waiting for me. Coincidentally it was the same bar he confessed his crush on me. And like history repeating, we ended up in the corner of the bar, we started flirting, my hand on his arm and just as I was getting in the mood, his mobile started ringing. It was his fiance! I could see his confidence shrink into a little ball, and after a couple “Yes, honey” and “No, honey”, he got off the call and like a little boy being scolded, he said “I’m so sorry… I have to go”.

It took a 15 second call to squash any hope of complete satisfaction. And that was that. The more I thought about it, it really bothered me that this man I had a crush on was obviously whipped and that, is NOT hot.

On my last day at work, my team threw me a karaoke farewell. A group of around 20 of us took the afternoon off, headed to a karaoke bar and drank up a $3,000 tab. After I finished singing a hilariously inappropriate work song, “Touch Myself” from the Divinyls, my bosses gave a speech, told me how much I was loved within the company, so loved in fact that 50+ colleagues got together and bought me the new iPad 2 as a farewell gift. I teared up looking at all the names of people who had contributed, and the thought that I had made such amazing friendships at work that they went to all this effort. It was also completely heart warming to see a few names of colleagues who generally gave me a hard time at work, but later told me they had the utmost respect for me for being able to deal with their tough no bullshit work attitude.

I’m proud of the relationships I’ve formed at work - it took a long time and it was tough to crack. My heart breaks that I’ll be so far away from people who have become my closest friends, who have seen me at my highs and lows, but at the same time, I am so excited to end this chapter of my career.

Updates coming very soon. Boy, do I have stories to tell you…!