nicolette kaponis

I’m going to take a deep breath and quickly type the following: I’maDoctorWhofact. Still with me? Hope so! I will type the following less quickly: this.post.is.not.about.Doctor.Who. Except that it is…sort of…sorry. Before we talk about adventures in Space and Time, let’s talk about missed opportunities. We all have them, buried out the back, never to be contemplated for too long. They are sometimes life-changing I-should-have-spoken-to-that-guy/taken-that-job/gotten-on-that-plane missed opportunities or more of a doesn’t-seem-like-the-biggest-deal-at-the-time-but-I-still-can’t-get-over-it missed opportunity. The latter happened to me in 2007, the year I was living in London in my British life v.1. Back then, Tennant was the Cumberbatch-flavour of the day and it was announced that he would be staring in an adaptation of Hamlet at the Novello Theatre. Mmmm Hamlet-y Cue sharp intake of breath.

The 90s, for me, were a time of heady, angst-y, pop culture-y obsession that ranged from Pump-Up-the-Volume era Christian Slater, to Brandon Walsh to Brenda Walsh, back to Brandon Walsh, Leonardo DiCaprio, most people from ER and Pacey (#neverDawson). As I entered my twenties, my obsessions didn’t quite fade away, but they did become more tasteful. And by that, I mean they became French. I miss my Tiger-Beat-buying days Guys, in my twenties, I was a Francophile.

If you're still reading (I'm sure I've turned a few of you off by way of my obnoxious heading to which I say, fair play), I'm going to have to love you and leave you sooner than I had intended. This blog post was supposed to have been written in advance so that all I had to do today was hit the 'publish' button and feel as if things were right.On.Track. Alas, life so rarely follows the plan you try and set. And so here I am, less than an hour away from departure and typing furiously to get something, anything posted while McNulty nudges my laptop off my lap so he can take pride of place, be centre of attention, shower me with love before I go - though I expect it's more him making sure I'm anchored to the flat until his dinnertime, after which I may do as I please. He.Won't.Care. And so to Paris. As Meg Ryan's character said in French Kiss (ie one of cinema's most important works) 'I will triumph!'

2014. It was the year Emma Watson delivered an address at the UN Headquarters in New York City, launching the UN Women campaign HeForShe, and received a standing ovation heard around the world. It was the year we lost Malaysian Airlines flight 370, Ebola threatened to take us all, Kimye became official (as did Brad and Ange…), Li Na won the Women's Australian Open final, Gangnam Style was inescapable, Malala Yousafzai won the Nobel Peace Prize, and a survey by the European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights reported that about 1/3 of women in the European Union had experienced physical or sexual violence since the age of 15. It was also the year I set myself my first reading challenge as an adult (because like most Aussie kids, I was a staunch MS Read-a-Thon challenge participant throughout my primary school career). In 2014, I decided to only read books written by women. Cue. Gasps. So magnanimous, I even included a male author in this pic