Then we could be dancing, no more missing you while I’m gone, there we could be dancing and you’d smile and say I like this song

I just want to put it out there that I really don’t like hate the way in which mental heath issues are ignorantly trivialised by many people. You hear people say “oh my god I am soooo depressed!” about their favourite restaurant being booked out, or people getting told, “you are sooo OCD!” because they value cleanliness more than the average person — the list goes on. It really irritates me. It makes me feel like mine, and other people’s mental health issues are undermined as merely a description of a fleeting problem, a hyperbolical description. Surely I’m not the only person out there who feels like their personal struggles are trivialised by these terms being casually misappropriated in popular culture and everyday use?

A few months ago, law school had a “Mental Health Awareness Day” which involved (via sponsorship, of course) a bouncy castle, warm fuzzy post-it notes, puppies for petting, etc. Needless to say, I was really unimpressed. Whilst it coincided with the release of a survey of law students (which unsurprisingly concluded that we are one of the most stressed faculties, and that many people develop mental health issues, or their previous difficulties worsened), none of this was the focal point. It really should have been called a “Stress Relief Day” or something a bit more mild. I realise that stress in itself is a serious problem, and it also exacerbates other mental health conditions, but the whole thing looked like a magical, colourful fun-day joke and I felt like it rudely trivialised the seriousness of other things caught under the umbrella term of “mental health.”

In happier matters, I recently did a photo shoot for some friends’ presskit:







feeling fallen like a stone, you ask your mother, “is it true?”

I mustn’t be the the only person who feels like it is much easier to continue something, that it is to start it in the first place. A couple of months ago, I was on a really good health and fitness streak — it was towards the end of the hockey season, and I was also doing really well at the gym. And then I stopped.

Blah. I have a tonne of “excuses” which I see as fairly legitimate reasons, but the bottom line is — I stopped. I don’t actually regret it, because those extra hours of not exercising meant either much-needed sleep or charts being fixed or practise or reading the backlog of law cases I had accumulated, etc. but it still sucks. I wished that I had simply been more motivated or less lazy or managed my time better, but I don’t actually regret it at all.

The point is, now I have to start all over again. Yesterday I went to the gym for the first time in a long time, and I had to bust my arse to do the same routine that I was just about to upgrade from, seven or so weeks ago. I wondered how on earth I had done more reps with heavier weights, and my declining fitness really showed at 11-a-side summer hockey on Monday night. I had to play two positions (neither of which I usually play) simultaneously towards the end of the game when we were a player down, and I just felt like walking instead. I have hockey again tonight and have agreed to meet a friend at the gym right afterwards — the prospect of which frightens me immensely. Gulp.

Recently, howtobea20something posted about a “Self-Improvement Summer”, and a lot of what I want to do overlaps with his list, so I guess what I’m embarking on is some kind of self-improvement mumbo jumbo as well… and it starts with continuing this little streak of exercise that I’ve started. Starting was the absolute worst part, now I’ve just got to keep it going. Which also relates to me struggling with learning to surf. Apparently I’m not really struggling and I only suck as much as someone who’s only attempted it once. But I hate being bad at things, so I feel like a total failure so far. The boyfriend’s board had to get repaired this past weekend and I was moving house, but we’re going again on Sunday and sometime next week I’ll get a proper lesson along with a friend or two.

For the record, I’m not one of those mindless souls at the gym who just does a shitty, half-arsed routine and goes home. Nor am I trying to kid myself that I can change my body type and want to shed 15kg. I mostly just enjoy the feeling of being fit and able to do and lift things with relative ease.

the cold and the loud and they won’t let me sleep

My mum likes to whip out a saying in Chinese that literally means “plans never keep up with changes” (although it sounds more eloquent when my mum says it because in Chinese it’s a bit of a play on words).

Anyway, that maxim seems to ring true far too often in my life, and this past week has been yet another example. So besides feeling like I had messed up three out of my four exams, they were done and dusted, and everything felt great. I was ready to relax, to hit the beach, to chill in general… then the status quo at home and at the flat changes so now I have to move back home within the next week to house/cat sit for the next couple of months, and then start flat hunting again. I can’t even be bothered regurgitating statements about how bad the Auckland housing market is at the moment and how competitive the flat/rental scene is — it just ain’t pretty. Plus I hate moving. I own a lot of stuff. Which I had planned to be cull down after exams anyway, just as a general spring-clean type thing, but now I’m forced to. I get stupidly sentimental about dumb things I own and I’m far too into shoes and books (both of which are very heavy), so moving is going to be a mission. Urgh.

I guess I’m just going to have to suck it up and deal with unexpected changes. I just wished that life gave you more warnings though, you know? So you can brace yourself a little, and close your eyes for the impacts, no matter how minor. I feel like I’m always getting smacked in the face by unexpected shit when I least expect it, when I’m most vulnerable. I just wanted a break! But I’ll be packing boxes and doing some heavy lifting instead.

During the exam period, I had somehow managed to build up quite a substantial list of “things to blog about”. But I haven’t gotten around to it yet, because I’ve been too busy enjoying my short-lived carefreeness and seeing friends that are going away for almost the entirety of summer. I wish I was the one going away instead. In the meantime, here are some crap-quality iphone photos. I’m doing a photoshoot for some friends in a couple of days’ time and also need to finish a previous project, so hopefully this blog’s photo quality will be resurrected. The photo above is of Piha, on my first day of trying to learn how to surf (before the weather and waves deteriorated), and the bottom are some of the dishes I got treated to as a “yay exams are over” meal, by the boyfriend. Apparently I’m really, really into south and central American food.

if this is the life, why does it feel so good to die today? blue to gray, grow up and blow away

Labour Weekend is supposed to be a weekend spent relaxing outdoors in the sun — especially since the weather has been amazing all weekend. Or at least studying for my law exams. But nope, I’ve done neither. Instead, I’ve been mucking around and practising for my recital, and then more mucking around.

I’m really freaking out but that’s boring to talk about. So, serious stuff aside, what the hell do I wear to my own recital?! I know that sounds like a really shallow and superficial “dilemma” to have, but it’s not as straightforward as it sounds, when you’re a bass player. Plus, no one wants to hear about how I am wanting to kill myself for having picked a(n awesome) tune which has three different time signatures (3, 4 and 7).

I can’t even look to the other girls at jazz school to see what to wear because they’re all either singers or pianists, so the level of movement that I require is completely different to theirs. Bass-playing is pretty physically engaging and stage lights elevate sweating to a whole new level. I have a really nice silk blouse that I would love to wear, but the long-sleeves mean that it’s absolutely out of the question. I also don’t have any pants that aren’t jeans or sportswear, so that’s also ruled out.

What about footwear?! My patent black leather shoes now have gaping holes at the front so that each shoe has its own “mouth”. And the last thing I want to feel besides nerves and sweaty palms would be pain in my feet, so definitely no heels. Plus I’m not a singer and it’s jazz school, not the classical department, so heels aren’t unspokenly-mandatory.

This sounds silly but I went as far as to put on the outfit I thought would be most comfortable and appropriate, only to discover that anything and everything feels uncomfortable when practising with the knowledge that your recital is less than 48 hours away. I’m getting all picky and indecisive about this because I really don’t like the idea of wearing something that doesn’t feel “me” — especially when I’ve gone out on a bit of a limb with some of my tune choices and arrangements. Everything is all quite Amanda-ish and with music it’s all about how you feel and interact in the moment, so how I feel in my damn clothes are important!

Urgh, break time is over. I’ve got to go finish these charts so they will be hot off the press for rehearsal tomorrow morning.

P.S. Metric announced a show for Auckland in December. I wished it was a few days later so that my sister could go with me. I don’t know anyone else that really likes them and at $60 a pop, it’s not the sort of thing you can ask someone to “just come along”. The boyfriend swore he’d never heard them and asked how I could “love them so much” if I hadn’t listened to them in years. I pointed out that he had heard them (although, yes, hearing is different from listening) but always asked me to skip the tracks when they came on in my driving playlist, soooo yeahhh. I was thinking today that besides Emily Haines’ voice and the occasional line of lyrics I wished I’d written, I can’t actually explain why I like Metric. I think they just hold a high sentimental value for me. If they’d toured here in 2007 I would probably be happy to throw down even more hard-earned cash for their show.

but you ain’t going nowhere, why you procrastinate girl

Taken at MoMA, New York City.

This is it — there are 12 days before my recital and 19 days before my first law exam. And then, perhaps by November 13th I will be able to con myself into relaxing and not constantly refreshing the “exam results” page.

I’ve been quite sick this week (had a fever on Monday night which carried into Tuesday) and I’m going to attempt my first full-day at uni tomorrow, but it will be Friday already. Words can’t even begin to describe how stressed out I am. I know I signed up for this workload so I’ve got to see it through, but my god — how did I ever think my mind and body are supposed to come of this intact?! I’m 99.999% sure that what I’m doing is unprecedented as I’m taking the maximum law workload along with probably the most important paper in my entire jazz degree (since it includes my recital).

Anyway, to brighten my hopes a little, here is a list of things that I look forward to doing in the fortnight right after it’s all over. In no particular order:

  1. Reading. I can’t wait to read. And read. And read. Recreationally. Without guilt as to what else Ishould be reading instead (i.e. law cases and textbooks). I will read in bed, on couches, in the sun, in the breeze, outside, inside, all night long until dawn — I will read!
  2. Play hockey. I’ve been skipping summer hockey games because I need to attend other people’s recitals, or be studying or practising. I can’t wait to show up to a summer hockey game not exhausted from my long day, and get to stay late after the game drinking beers with my team. I’ll probably throw in “go to the gym” and general “exercise” here too. They don’t really warrant new points.
  3. Writing. I have so many ideas that right now merely exist in some abbreviated, bullet-pointed form all over the place — in my phone, notebook, scattered on post-it notes, etc. I can already feel that I will be turning night and day around like I do every summer — reading and writing until dawn, then collapsing when the birds start chirping. It’s going to be amazing.
  4. Drinking beer. That’s right, drinking beer gets its own bullet point here. I fucking love beer and I can’t wait to grab a box of cold beer and be popping them open in the sun, at barbecues, whilst cooking dinner. My god… nothing beats the feeling of a cold, cold beer on a hot spring/summer’s day. I’ll be scouring for sales of all the yummy, hopsy beers, mmm.
  5. Beach. I don’t really care what kind of day at the beach it is at the moment, I just want to go to the beach. Be it to read a book, write some stuff, walk around, eat an ice block, drink a beer, read some more, tan, tan, tan, maybe even swim if it’s warm enough…
  6. Spend all day with my cat. Self-explanatory.
  7. Go to the art gallery again.
  8. Take a shitton of photos. I need to get my camera fixed ASAP.
  9. Remember that I love playing music and keep doing it. It’s not actually as much of a chore as I keep telling myself it feels like.
  10. Listen to music all day and all night long.
  11. Hang out with my friends and catch up with people.
  12. This doesn’t fit within the “fortnight” criteria but oh my god I cannot wait until my sister is home in December. It will have been over a year since I last saw her by then.
  13. Do other, spontaneous, miscellaneous, unexpected, stupid stuff. (Like suddenly leave without notice, maybe?)
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