“Dad I won’t be a writer. I will just write and sell books!”

Alice The Daily, Business World, On The Go, Stories, The Little Girl Series, Uncategorized

Dad always said ‘What’s you gonna do if you become a writer? A writer has nothing to feed himself, nothing but his ego.” Of course as a wise business man, he had his own stand and point. And he had the same point about me becoming an artist, a screen writer, a comedian and a TV host.

I love my dad endlessly but as a stubborn child I am, I needed to be proved wrong or else your point is invalid.

My mom loves my painting, my writing, my music, all the little stand up comedy shows I put on. And she loves me becoming a public figure as she once was. So as everyone else in her family. “An MC, yes, that must be you honeyboo. She talks so dang much!” I heard them telling me times to times.

With a pure heart being pulled toward literature and art, I fell into it as natural as it’s my second nature.

I wrote about the most outrageous adventure of this comical but phenomenal boy and his journey from east to west. I wrote about the ways raindrop broke on my front yard’s concrete floor in summer. When I was 9, I promised to my heart I will have a film or a book published. No exception!

I wrote when I was a teenager. But those pages are for the love I did not have, the cute boy in my class, the girls and their cruel plays. I wrote for my broken shaken most lively heart.

I kept on writing in my late teens. I wrote for the night tears blurred my eyes and smudged the pages, of me missing the familiar. I wrote for my heart which was controlled by the the mind of a girl who was trying so hard to grow up.

I have not had any professional training on writing and I believe it’s not necessary as it should be something you’re born with; or without. The only class that considered “professional training” was a creative writing class I took as an elective back in uni. (Which you can read about here). I remember it all vividly. I don’t know if I remember all that because that was the last semester  before I could be done with uni madness or is it because it’s the most captivating class I have ever had. I don’t know if I remember my professor ‘s name because his name is the wrong spelling version of my best friend’s name or is it because he has given me so much hope and validation.

But then after all that, it’s gone quiet…

I have not written for so long. Trust me I tried! I did. I sneaked in a bit of writing between flights. I wrote on trains between trips. At times I wrote to hide the fact that I had nothing else better to do.

I remember the last conversation I had with my colleague, one the the very rare occasion I mentioned my writing. he asked “Oh I didn’t know it was your thing! You write in Vietnamese?”. “I used to long ago but mainly English.” He gave me this look which I can’t describe. It’s a look of a native speaker giving a girl who just, with an accent, said she composed some forms of literature in English.

But none of that, the lack of time, those sorts of common reactions, none of that will diminish the promise I made to myself when I was 9. More than ever I know this is important to me. More than ever I know there’re no better timing than now.



Suit l’amour, l’amour fuit; fuit l’amour, l’amour suit

Alice The Daily, On The Go, Stories, Uncategorized

If you know this famous French phrase, you would know how true it is.

And it applies for every single thing on this planet Earth besides l’amour-love.

I was told to work hard, and dream hard to get what I want but most of the times, when I desperately wanted something, it was never mine. Then poooffs, the moment I turned my back and was like “I’m so done with this sh***. I’m out. Maybe it/he/she is not for me”, the thing I wanted instantly came into my offer.

Problem here is, ironically, in most cases, I already 1. completely moved on 2. found and “engaged” with another options 3. totally had no desire for that thing anymore. Which I then call the iconic wrong timing.

Why timing is so important?

People often say Karma is a b* but I think the real gigantic b* here is wrong timing. Wrong timing and everything right just turn wrong.

We will chat about this on another occasion. Today let’s just pay one whole minute to contemplate how on Earth this Suit l’amour, l’amour fuit; fuit l’amour, l’amour suit thingy is so damn true (at least to my life till this moment).

Guess that’s what you call life. The unexpected unpredictable ever changing life that we are all living. I know it adds spices and all things fun to our boring life but for once for God shake, can it happen in a better timing format?

I hate making decision and this kind of decision is the hardest.

Now I need some time to re-consider the option which was once “all I ever wanted”, now the “why are you even here?”.

Please someone let’s me know you hate this Suit l’amour, l’amour fuit; fuit l’amour, l’amour suit sh* but still kinda love it at the same time as I do. And also, can someone help me explain this illogical saying of not-even-trying humans who came up with it?


For now, bonsoir et au revoir!



Happy Easter Aussie

Alice The Daily, On The Go, Stories, Uncategorized

Today is Easter in Australia. Woohoo!

I had made this plan (aka the plan) real great and adventurous and all for this year Easter.

However plan don’t always go as we, you know, planned. And life is not always perfect.

Thou this time I will not blame on either the nature of plan or life itself, I figured some great of a deal out, learned the hard way and here I am so content in my own chamberrr. (Sorry friends who I bailed on)

What a great pity you gotta spend Easter alone, you might think. But the truth is, for the past 2 months of depression and boredom and hatred, this Easter has been the best days so far.

I feel wholehearted myself again. My crazy, spontaneous, energetic, weird self!

Do you remember those scenes in movies that a bit *aged where the girl dances shamelessly in her pjs with loud music bashing and wine?

Yea that’s me and my well-spent Easter


Plus endless musical session. (I feel real bad for my neighbour who just want a peaceful holiday with their fams. Soz not sozzzz)

tumblr_m2r1shSOLe1qabudj.gif  *I love Emma Stone*

Plus *this*


I don’t think, thou I hope, there will be any Easter that top this. For the rest of the night, I’m thinking of torturing myself again with either Casablanca or Gone with the wind.

Hoping you enjoy your Easter in the best possible way too.

Bye for now

Why I write…

Alice The Daily, My Jam, On The Go, Stories

It’s hard, but sometimes I need to be reminded of why I love writing blogs. I figured I would love going out and drinking and laughing and dancing the night away as much as sitting at home, in my room, by myself, losing tracks of the hours I spend on reading somebody else’s blog.

Youtube is amazing with all the vblogs. You got to look into someone’s life so closely and vividly. In some ways, it is intimate. But after watching those there’s nothing left within me. Not an intriguing thoughts or ideal provoking. I’m back to the life I am living, drowning again in my own thoughts.

But there are this great flair in personal blog. It is like looking deep into someone’s mind. It is like sitting with them and listening to their soft little thoughts. It is like being honest and genuine to each other. Reading blog post is a kind of blessing I think.


Writing has this such power of showing who you really are much better than any social media channels. I knew this girl who looks all flawless and as if she has her life all together, as if she knows what she is doing, as if she is born under a good star that only good things come into her life. Gladly she has a blog. Gladly she writes. Gladly she can prove to the world how much she holds dearly to her heart and not how she wears her hair or how much make-up she has going to uni. (Sadly I doubt anyone knew she wrote or even if she had a blog!)

I always think how funny it is you think you know a person just because “I have her facebook duh”. I won’t go too deep in how misleading and ingenuine social media can be in portraying a person life. Sometimes we do need to be reminded humans are so much more complex. If only a party picture means “extrovert” or full-on all glammed up make up equal to “bossy” then psychologist and scientist are all out of job.

Blogging has never stop amaze me of its power in helping expressing one’s thoughts and ideas, keeping them true to their values, communicating to the world a little more of themselves.

Another great thing of blogging is no matter how long you have left, no matter how rusty you think your writing skills are, no matter how random your content might seem, once you’re back to letting the thoughts out of your head and into the dancing letters, you feel like home, you feel like being heard, you feel you do own a place in this swirling world.

So trust me friends, no matter what, keep on writing. Out there, there are always people who share the way you feel, people who love to read your little meaningless notes, who got inspired or got relief from your writing. This globe is so big, when I was first typing down my blog I could not imagine of the numbers of country where all my readers coming from. Friends, your audience can be that boy who was in your art class, or that girl who stopped by your social media profile and noticed the link, you will never know.

I have 13 drafts storing in and so many racing thoughts and projects to share with you guys. But for now, Happy Easter and Happy Blogging!


Cool kids cheap thrills

Alice The Daily, On The Go, Stories

Earlier, the weather forecast showed 39 degree. It’s fogged up the car’s window where the air-con pointed directly at. It’s 11pm now and the weather had eased down to the good 34 but the heatwave was still unbearable. It’s pitch dark outside at Macca’s parking lot with a few car running pass. Today was Friday. This traffic was considered “crowded” already at this small town.

“Turn the freaking car back! Pick me up! How cruel of you guys to drop me off first hand and go get ice-cream. Unbelievable!”

“We are sorry haha. It’s too late. You’re like 3 minutes late before he finally collected his mind and decided he really wanted ice-cream.”

“I don’t care! Turn. The. Car. Around”- and the girl in army jacket kept whining the words over and over again until they finally pulled right in front of her face.

“Just get in already. Do you know how annoying you are?”

Too frequent, she got used to their spontaneous little night adventures, and of course, her friend’s whining tone too.  And she came to love them and the pickering came to become their girly ritual.

“Get downstair! We’re at your front!”

“Where? I can’t see you guys?”

“I mean, we’re mentally there with you but physically we’re “north”. Oh seeing you two!”

“Seeing your ass! I’m going back up!”

“No no no. We’re like 2 minutes there. Give us two minutes. Stand right where you are!”

“So seriously what are we gonna get?”

“At least tell me where we’re heading! We’re parking at your neighbour driveway for God sake!”

“Keep calm girls! Calm! I am googling!”

“Hkjdfbisfpjf, lala, kafbulff, tuiasaf”

“Is that your neighbour? Goshh girlss, he’s coming out. He’s so coming out!”

“Stop singing that freaking song! Give us some ideas Alice!”

“But I don’t know”

“Hold up! I think I just found a great place!”

“Goshh guyss! We need to leave. NOW!”

It’s  Friday night, girls night out.  They had dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant earlier as their own subtle version of girls night out. Two of the girls had just finished work from the contact centre 3 hours ago. The job, which according to them, should be advertised this way:

“You are young and enthusiastic? Having no money in hand and haven’t hated your life enough? Come to us fresh and we will make sure you come out of your job hating your life so much more that if there’s a bridge in your town, you will surely jump off. Oops and by the way, we are selling material for bridges constructions and housing too. Hit us up on 012-hate my life and never go back”

Sarcastic she knew, “it’s not that bad isn’t it?”. The legendary telemarketing job.

Sitting next to her was another sleepy typical-hardworking-and-ambitious-white-collar-girly. “They’ve just got the new software installed this arvo and I got to figure out how to use it.”

Life of the post graduate kids could seem dull and career-oriented in the most positive way of hopelessness. She watched them grow and as times goes by, she grew with them, passed our naive selves, passed the struggling uni days, and here they were in their car still pickering about the same old things they always did.

Us post graduate kids are not even one third as cool as the cool kids. We own no skateboard. We don’t do funk. I do have a polaroid that cover under 2 layers of dust.



We ain’t no moody, unclear, shady polaroid of kids, of thick denim jacket, heavy dirty black tied boots, tangled hair of waves and that signature what? i don’t care. i don’t give a sh88 look, and of course, in a coolest backdrop of an underground show.



But tonight the moment we were laughing away in our car waiting for the 60 cents ice-cream at the window of Macca drive thru, wondering how the lady working there can get her perfect purple hair, it was nearly as perfect as the nights I had had in my mind of what a cool kid’s night should be.



And for tonight, all we have is the lady and her purple hair at Macca drive thru. One of the girls would say “bleach”. And the other one would ask God why someone would do such sinful thing to their hair. Then we all would laugh at the joke of the last girl telling us about her great aunt losing her hair by bleaching it.

And for tonight, our happiness is as cheap as the 60 cent ice-cream cone.

“This is exactly what Vine famous and Youtuber would do!”

“Totally. Like isn’t getting Macca drive thru at mid night is a must of how to be a cool kid?”

“We are pretty cool aren’t we?”

“Do you even have to ask? It’s obvious”


Nights like this, it makes me miss this city for the days I’m not gonna be here anymore…


* All pictures used in this post are from various source to be credited


At the bus stop, I were staring at the past just across the road.

On The Go, Stories

What’s better than a great theatre? It’s a great theatre that was originally a church from the 19th century!

Wednesday has always been my favourite day of the week. Somehow things can’t never go wrong on Wednesday. And somehow good things always come on a Wednesday. Last Wednesday afternoon, I had something to sort out at Town Hall House.

On a side note, if you’re a first timer in Sydney, you should go check out the impressive small scale Sydney city model. Town Hall House is never a traditional tourist attraction since it functions as a government department and only serious stuffs happen there. (And who would want to visit a place like that during their honeymoon ?!). I have to admit there’s nothing much to do at Town hall House. However if you’re around and have some spare minutes, you will find this little Sydney extremely enchanting (or when you’re lost you can always refer back to this. The most accurate map of Sydney ever!).


The inner city


The iconic Opera House. How cute is that!


And heaps of skyscrapers!!!!!  or is this the model of under construction area(?!) 

Then, here is when the magic happened. After finishing “stuffs” there, I was waiting on a bus to North Sydney. Catching my eyes was this insanely charming and mystified looking church nestle humbly in between the two buildings

FullSizeRender (1).jpg

It reminded me so much of supervillain Gru’s house in Despicable me. Not in a bad way of course. You know what I mean. 

But then my curiosity would stop there if I did not see the leaflet and tickets booth on the right of the church.

“Why would someone sell ticket for a church’s access? That’s so wrong on many levels.”

My eyes once again failed me in identifying useful information. Alice, honey, there is that one big waving sign in yellow orange-ish saying GENESIAN THEATRE. No doubt it’s a theatre!

Genesian Theatre is located at 420 Kent Street, Sydney. With the rather central location, it’s strange that it takes sometime for people to recall the name Genesian when being asked.


I did a bit of research and found out Genesian Theatre Company has operated for 72 years as a company on the site of St John’s Church, which dates from 1868. It has served as both a church and a poor school until 1932 when it became the Kursaal Theatre, housing the Sydney Repertory Company. In 1938 it became the first Matthew Talbot Hostel. Since 1954 it has been the home of The Genesian Theatre Company which was formed in 1944.

How romantic that sounds! If romantic is the right word. For me, any plays or performances take place there will automatically turn out a masterpiece.

It always leaves me wonder and stunned looking at old architects and imagining how people was living back then. Scene after scene come flooding through my eyes of the earlier life of ladies in puffy dresses, and men so polish in their tuxedos.

I can’t wait to drag my friend there for a play (hopefully) in February. And being my best self hyping over things, I will sure write a long post on how emotionally moving my experience there is.

If you have time, go check out the Genesian Theatre and we can be hype together!

For now, happy weekend and happy lunar new year to those who are celebrating it.

Until next time!