Get me that horizon.

My creative comrade is currently traversing the steppes of the United States of America. Following the trail I left, and blazing his own footstamps.

We had a small conversation this morning whilst I wasted away in bed, suffering, perhaps in normal guilt over my first use of a sick leave. He said he had lots of GOSS for me. And by goss, he means adventure stories. A portraiture of the empty fields of green, the towering mountains as they pedalled across destinations and states, the variety of winter/autumn/going to summer jackets and pantaloons. I follow him in a basic, alternative way, my viewing window the size of a smart phone. Apple or banana.

We chatted cordially infused with superlatives and exclamation points. Of course I felt thrilled for him, exhilarated for his journey that I dragged him to go along to after my own. And we came upon a pow-wow about his return – his seeking my aid upon his return back home and the back and forth’s we will bestow upon our favourite media-sphere and its various universes. We both want to eventually return to that land and seek out a glorious way to serve.

He plans for five years, I plan for four. Working professionally for the experience and the earnings whilst I continue to expand my creative horizons side by side. Scripts in progress, producing and directing roles for the weekends to come, a novella creeping in…



Row, row, row the boat, gently down the stream,
Over the mountain gullies,
And tempest, storms, squalls.






Harper celebrated Mother’s Day by crowning gifts of glory to her birth giver. It was L’Oreal worth it.

Harper also missed reviewing the last two episodes of her current drama show and when she tried to hide this blunder by doing a double-review, her editor says that she has to do two separate ones. Unfortunately, at this moment, she is now currently behind three episodes. She asks for someone to spare her.

After downloading a collage application on her phone, Harper proceeds to create fun and tease for her said birth giver by trademarking her famous “smile”. 30+ likes so far, she most certainly feels like a celebrity.

Harper is also awaiting a recipe from her coworker that she hopes to surprise an incredibly special person: herself.

Harper has locked in a date to visit and ride an old steam train in the North-East from her abode and is very excited to ride with the wind and exert no energy. Calm is peace.

And to conclude,

Harper would also like to apologise that she has been absent upon these pages. She has forgotten the importance of her promise to herself (to record and journal), but she has exciting plans of polishing up a traditional parfait that she hopes to virtually share with you all.




To have or to hold.

I brought in Harper to talk about the mature at heart.

Context: Harper’s first friend of a line-up of 3 pairs for this year got married an exact month ago.

H: I don’t feel disembodied to the reality of this friend and the 3 others who will enter in to matrimony at such a permanent age; an age of which I tower over all of them. Accomplishment shouldn’t be measured by another halves’ perfect opinion of you. It should be trialled and tested and left to flow. Drive yourself in independence. Exhaust your pipes singing your way through the Appalachian, or shout across thunderous ocean wide. What do I value, what do they value…

FM: That seems rather opinionated. Some really do just want to settle down.
H: I’m not a harbinger of judgment. My soul is more sincere in its drive to see the world through one pair of eyes first before settling with another pair. Perhaps that is why I cannot seem to accept it as well as I hoped I would by now.

FM: So you feel like their settling means they will miss much?
H: There’s a line, of course. They have their own adventures, I have my one. The difference being is that their pairing will be permanent. There will be no “I” any longer, and you’re always on the constant lookout for the other’s thoughts in matters. Spontaneity will be overridden by assessment. And you cannot get that back anymore. Unless 1 of 2 died, of course, but we never wish that!

FM: You’ll find yourself in their position someday too. You dream of it, you’ve told us as much. They’re simply accelerating a few years before you.
H: Of course, of course. There is no doubt to it. But that is still a few years they can never have back anymore. Sure, time is not of the essence when you’re an eternal-thinker. But we are physically limited humans. Death is inevitable. And there are far too many nations, cultures, cuisines, aromas, felts, brushes, blossoms and pigmentations to wonder at. Therefore, their deep desire for permanent companionship over the immeasurable value of this amazement baffles me.

FM: You can travel together.
H: And the spontaneous trip with your girl friends or boy friends are out of the picture.

FM: You heart fill be full and fluttering and blushing.
H: A conversation with a stranger on a moonlight stroll, unprompted and naturale.

FM: A kiss or two?
H: I can wait.

FM: Tell us what you picture.
H: A quiet room with a filled bookshelf. You’re inside your covers, perhaps you’d like to turn on a movie or open to the last page of your book. Tomorrow, you fly to a cousin, an auntie eight/fifteen hours away. You create magic with your gifts, and you return home to replete.
Then again, perhaps I am overthinking it.

FM: Do your own thing and they do theirs. You’ll find both your paths, accelerated or not.

H: Thank you. That is a deep wish.

Harper loves love. She romanticises romance and often daydreams of what it would be like to be the Elizabeth Bennet to someone’s Fitzwilliam Darcy. But like Lizzie, or perhaps, dear Belle, there is a great world out there. A place that one cannot compare.

For some, that may be a person. For others, it may be the places. For Harper, it’s a little bit of both. But the former can wait, she speaks. The latter is vehemently, absolutely, for now.

Snooze you lose.

I have to admit, I am absolutely, ridiculously, no doubt no doubt, enjoying my first #ever full time job in the Marketing-sphere. Sure, the hours are traditional (read: bye bye sleep-ins), and the novels are insofar neglected. However, I think it’s just my body screaming ADJUST! ADJUST! and I’ll soon fall into the habit of balancing my banana brekky whilst driving, and entertaining my creative desperations against my sleepy eyes.

The main benefits? A complete reduction from the toxicity of social media. I used to spend hours, bored, scrolling and deepening my knowledge of the useless that sometimes I find myself emotionally challenged by the constant battle to be better than the rest. Even if it’s unconsciously done. Now, I’m rocking up at 8.17am after an eight-hour snooze and no-avo smash and I tirelessly go through the invoices and the creative photographies, and find myself relaxing during the weekend with long shoots.

Filmmaking’s long hours is soothing. The sore feet’s like nah. Especially when a film I produced with a good friend of mine is going to have its first BIG SCREEN DEBUT at a Short Film Festival here in my crib.

Crazy? Unbelievably.

How Does a Moment Last Forever?

I thought (still do) Beauty and the Beast far exceeded expectations. The experience on IMAX 3D – a first for me in my hometown – is similar to a freshly baked and buttered bread, popped in your mouth, and the flavour envelops your pronunciation that you fail to babble in glee for you are occupied by full smiles, a width of the entire screen; your eyes remain fixed upon the dancers and the singers, the pirouettes, the gestures, the glances. Subtle they may be.

And as the dust and snow, and oft rose petals linger by your periphery or a wolf ready to pounce right at the front of you, you are engaged and in motion, your heart beating wildly, wishing, wishing, wishing, let this film never end, let it go on my entire lifetime, just before a song begins, one you’ve never heard of, and you feel so content, satisfied, that your wishing of it neverending seems almost a disservice to the reverent conclusion it approaches towards.

It’s a visual magic that alters reality. It whispers, in debonaire delight, that,

“Minutes turn to hours, days to years and gone.
But when all else has been forgotten,
still our song lives on..”

And its an evocation of every magical romance. Of why childhoods exist and dreamers continue dreaming. It’s the little ones and those young at heart, who find the beauty in every beast. And hope lingers, burns, deep in the recesses, and blooms in hours such as now.

If I ever wanted to become part of this world, of the storytelling, the music, the medley of it all…then Beauty and the Beast made it all the more for coming.

The new Office.

When I received a call from R.A. for a potential full-time role that I may be interested in, I was quick to exclaim my affirmative. Coming from a background of Media and Communications, I thought this new line of job (Marketing) will be a new challenge for someone whose experience is predominantly in Media production and writing and yada yada. But it was a 9 a.m. call of something positive, something new, and something I was completely surprised to even be considered for. And whose to say nuh-uh?

I splashed yoghurt in my eyes.

It was a fast turnaround between that fateful call and the first of two interviews. From multiple e-mail conversations and phone consultations from the most positive, uplifting and incredibly knowledgeable job consultant one could ever ask for, it has been a ride quite joyously challenged and accepted.

Have you met a potential employer who constantly encourages you with their smiles? Have you ever sat down in an interview where all they want to know is about you, but not in a professional and conscientious kind of way, but in a diverting, stimulatingly discursive, in a spectrum between fitting in, and authenticity? Because all they were looking for, in the end, was authenticity. How you, perhaps, may enrich them in the workplace and vice versa.

I’ve watched The Office and have seen the rapport of that bunch of wildflowers. They’re a family basket and bundle of weirdness and topical conversations. And do they work? The only branch that’s ever been successful in their endeavours, no matter the side-tracked party planning and office gossip. Not that that may happen but one can only enjoy the comparisons. (And discounting its fictionality).

Recent graduates often wallow in self-pity come six months in. They trudge a slop of “welcome to unemployment” and find themselves battling their own insecurities about who they are and where they want to be. It’s not final and generalising, but it fits in the spectrum nonetheless. Some of my friends have plans to take a break from extending their academic qualifications by going overseas or bungie jumping. One can equal you losing your life, the other to lose your pockets. And it’s a process. And I love the stories of each individual.

Well, my story begins with this new undertaking. A sojourn of sorts, in the corporate world of communications and word-building, of promoting and trading, and the story for the dinner dates with preserved high school friends and the honesty and candidness of its lasting stretch. I will fill you in, of course.

For now, I have clothes to shop. Because man,

I gotta look good.

I adore fiction (exclamation point)


Let’s be less melancholic and more gung-ho for show, shall we! ‘Coz don’t we all love shows…and books!

There is a current website overhaul of my previous University’s in-house Reviews website. Given that I am currently in a binge of show-watchin’ and book-readin’s, I thought it opportunistic to extend my writing abilities to that of a reviewer. Unfortunately, because of said overhaul, the accounts I have registered in could not pass through the identity blockade and alas, has left me with much writings and no postings. Bummer.

In the meantime, I circumnavigated the dark yet illuminating, the handsome and the intoxicating, and the romantic and the heart-wrenching worlds of magical creatures that are both impressive and somewhat oppressive. Let’s talk dagger-wielding assassins-turned-Queens, impossibly beautiful witches that actually have hearts (literally and figuratively), and the authority of a writer to slam their words on a keyboard and produce well, names. Mor tea?

As I was circumnavigating said worlds, angered by the included map that is missing half of said worlds trudged on by our heroines and heroes and anti’s, I thought about the convenience of world-building to a story and how I seriously, ridiculously adore the mythology behind these fictional worlds and settings.
Don’t you?

I usually pick my books based on my preference to be taken out of reality. That’s mostly why I’m not necessarily in the non-fiction department unless for research and learning purposes. And it’s not because I do not want to know more about this said person’s biography or anything, I’m sure it’s inspiring and all that jazz, but I want to be taken away from the bite of reality. I want to be immersed in a world of wonder and mischief and character you only ever wish to be real.

What are your usual loves and genres? Are you like moi? A historical-fantasy-mythology fiction kind of gal or are you more into biographies and non-fiction and prank books for dummies?