Easter Does Vietnam

Upon the first few days of my Taupo Easter getaway, em gái tôi (that is 'my sister' in Vietnamese)

 who is visiting from abroad, brings out from her suitcase a dvd for our evening entertainment.

Whilst my love for vietnamese history began when I first watched Robyn Malcom in Intrepid Journey during my  2006 high school history class, this man Ahn Do inspired a different part of me through his comedic doco of Vietnam. 

Ahn Do &  his family fled Vietnam during the Vietnamese war to Australia on one small ship which they were attacked twice by pirates on and went without food & water for days.

However, they made it to Australia and the fugitive became the happiest man alive, I'm convinced. Just watch this dvd and you'll see. 

Ahn Do is an Australia comedian and it is only natural that with his past, he also has the most wide heart and the most beating smile.

It is with his story that he made me excited about life. Life, which there is so much more to see. I have these feelings all the time. Feelings that encourage positively generic dreaming, aspirational youthful career plans and all the stuff that non intentionally creates award winning TVCs. 

That's what led me to the Ad world. An absolutely genuine convincing of what someone can do to something to make it extraordinary, and some.

 But somehow, and I can't pinpoint the exact reason- or even whether it is worth being pensive over, somehow it seems like these times of extreme dreams and winning plans are becoming more sporadic. 

That's not to say that the dreams and plans are any less awesome, if anything they're more realistic which is wonderfully exciting. But it does bother me that the occurrence of such animated mind explosions are less often. No matter how big the emotional orgasm, I wonder if I should be mourning the feeling-or more accurately the lack of it. 

Or should I merely be taking this as the perfect time to be using these now seemingly sporadic dreams to actually create said dreams...

Succeed On with Afghans, Long Blacks & Pyrotechniques.

Every weekend I cross the road from my sweet wee rental only to sit at one of the most lovely cafes I am glad to have become accustomed to. 

However, as of late my routine weekend visits have diminished due to a certain other who I have been getting to know. Sorry to inject some personal sopiness in, but as per my last post I feel it is only natural to speak of real romance when it offers itself-it's what Austen would do.  

But alas, that other has given his time to the working world this weekend. Which has left me in a place only to return to my usual one. And it is, I have now realised, a much overdue return. I have been neglecting a side project which had me so excited about ever since the thought turned aspiration turned destined reality became itself. But the said other has stolen the place of excitement, leaving the project neglected and sitting in the back of my mind-but never out of the mind I assure you!

So with this familiar time given to me, I picked up my laptop, whatever issue of Frankie I could find in my lounge and walked across the road and through the doors of my dear Foxtrot Parlour cafe. 

And because I'm sure you would like to know, I ordered a long black and an afghan. Both of which were damn lovely- even though when trying to brake the afghan in half, one of the halves decided to make an escape...to the floor. Sigh. 

Finally, after dipping the afghan in the dark silk that was a long black, and flicking through my own, and Foxtrot's own Frankies, I wrote... And wrote... And wrote. And I feel like I finally hit what I have been trying to hit for months. It seems the return to routine only awoke a searched for hit this wee project needed. And now, once again, I am excited and feel as if I belong next to Brian Blessed typing away on my laptop as part of an ASB Succeed On TVC. 

I just love this damn feeling. And I can't wait to share more about my project. 

Also, just as an added loveliness to this day of wonderful, when leaving Foxtrot, the lovely Foxtrot man himself passes me a small brown bag and as I say to him in a rather perplexed manner "sorry, what is it?", he casually replied "another afghan, to make up for the half that ran away".

And lest we forget, there is no size or criteria for success, it's all success! And we must give praise with pyrotechniques!