If you believe I’ll deceive and common sense says you are the thief, Let me take you down the corridors

I just did something extremely cringe-worthy: I went back and read some unfinished blog posts that are still saved under “drafts”, as well as some posts from 2006 that I’ve long ago made “private”. 2006!!! It’s so scary to think how fast five years have flown, and how much yet little of me has changed. Ahh. I dare not dwell on it.

It’s late and my mind is boggled, but before I let myself ramble off in tangents – there are two main points to this blog post. Firstly, I’d have to say that as far as birthday presents go, the boy’s done pretty well for himself . He’s given me a huge stack of books, The Fountainhead being the first that I decided to tackle. Reading Ayn Rand’s novel has not only preoccupied me enough to leave him alone to study for exams, but it also made me cry, laugh, and re-read paragraphs pensively on many, many occasions. It’s such an amazing book that I almost put off finishing it, instead mucking around with the last hundred pages the other night, and finally allowing myself to finish it and sleep at 6am. Which resulted in me being terribly late for a meeting with the head of jazz, but that’s a different story. I had a discussion with the boy about the book yesterday, but I don’t think I’ve quite tidied up my thoughts enough to blog about it. Actually, I don’t know if I will ever collect my thoughts enough to write a coherent post about it, but all I can say is just read it!

Secondly, people don’t read enough these days. Or should I say, people my age don’t read enough these days. I was tweet-chatting to Rob the other night and finally decided to blog about this. It seems that most people who complain about “kids these days not reading” are older adults, so it was interesting to really step back and think about how I feel in regards to this topic – as I’m supposedly part of this “generation of non-readers”.

I’ve loved reading for as long as I can remember. When I was still very young and lived in Taipei, I remember my family’s in-car entertainment would be “can Amanda read all the signs?” – because, as you know, the streets in Asia are overwhelmed with signs, of stores, ads, you name it. Later on I progressed to proper books in Chinese, and when we moved here when I was six, I learnt English mostly by being virtually the only Asian kid at my primary school, and by – you guessed it – reading. Never mind not understanding all the words in a book at the time, the actual reading itself, absorbing ideas, characters, gaining entertainment from reading was the biggest thing for me. And then when the Harry Potter phenomenon exploded all over the world, I used the series as my escape from reality. I always had a niggling feeling though, that many of my peers didn’t enjoy reading. But I never thought twice about it since even the kids who “hated reading” seemed to all have read Harry Potter as well… until…

…One day, someone in my class snapped at me, “don’t tell me what happens, I’m waiting for the movie”. That’s the day I really did a double take and thought, what?! you’d rather wait a couple of years for a bad film interpretation of the best children’s series of our generation, rather than read it?! I was shocked. But sadly, at the same time, not that surprised at all. It was a kind of disillusion, almost. And whilst I will note that the technology age has impacted a lot on the declining number of youth that read, I’m not going to sit here and blame television, the internet or various other sources of entertainment that have replaced books. Instead, I’m more concerned with what those things cannot replace. Too many people are too preoccupied with plots. And getting fast, instant results. That’s why TV is so addictive – you get fed a half-hour storyline with a cliffhanger, as opposed to spending perhaps two hours reading to gain the same amount of “plot development”. That’s why many people have seen movies based on books, but have no interest in touching the book whatsoever. Some people have told me that it’s “more convenient”, or “saves time” in terms of digesting the “classics” in the form of movies rather than books – but none of these people will have truly experienced what made that book a “classic” in the first place.

Personally, I know I get too tied up in the analysis of the writing itself – choice of diction, dialogue, how the plot is structured, how characters are portrayed and the contrasts between them in terms of writing styles employed, on and on… That sounds like a total exaggeration but I kid you not – I involuntarily do all this subconsciously, peeling things to pieces and re-reading phrases or entire paragraphs just to re-absorb the text in a new light (all my favourite English teachers should be proud!) – but I’m not saying that other people should or could do this, I just think that they should read so that their brains are offered a chance to even do so. I’m not slagging films or anything (I love them!), but I truly think that books are irreplaceable and I repeat – people get too caught up with the plot, and wanting to “find out what happens”. Although many books are judged by how much of a “page turner” they are, I think that with the best books out there, less emphasis is on “what happens next”, rather, “how it happens” and “why it happens”  is far more important – and that’s what non-readers are missing out on. They’re missing out on the gaps between time spent reading, where their brains absorbs what they have just read, and allows mind space for their own judgements, analysis and ideas to be formed. Don’t forget now, books and imagination are hugely connected, so youths who don’t read are often missing out on chances to explore their creative boundaries.

I’m sure most people have experienced (perhaps, once again with the recurring Harry Potter example) an occasion where they’ve seen a film based on a book and have either had their imagined settings or character appearances completely recreated onscreen, or have completely disagreed with the visual depiction they’re offered. And therein lies the beauty of reading – you’re not confined to any visual elements and are free to interpret the setting and descriptions in any way you wish. That’s where your imagination gets a workout! I remember when I read Twilight out of curiosity (the entire series, no less, I am thoroughly ashamed to say!!! – instead of studying for my 6th form AS exams), and I had pictured Edward as… well let’s just say that I don’t think Robert Pattinson does my mental version of Edward any justice whatsoever. But in stark comparison, I’d have to say Harry Potter (once again) was very well cast, and was a case of where I thought the core cast members were precisely as I had pictured them when I first read the books.

Also, when I say that people should read more, I’m not being a literature elitist here and trying to shove “classics” or anything down anyone’s throats. I just think that, yes, some books are more worthy of your time than others, but people aren’t reading enough for me to even begin to comment on what they do read.  I vastly enjoy the odd crime/thriller/action novel, but I also like to feed my mind with other books in which the plot is only the undercurrent to character development. I think a lot of people don’t realise how valuable these things are – how reading books with complex characters with different backgrounds and motives actually gets osmosed into daily life and how you view or analyse the actions of those around you. Ever wondered what the life of a struggling artist is like? Go read about it. Ever thought thank god I’m not the kid picked on at school? Go read about some poor kid. Ever wonder what might drive the ulterior motives of conniving people? Go read about it. There is so much eye-opening to be done through shelves and shelves of black ink, more so than people even realise. Reading isn’t just about “what’s going to happen next?” or “does the good guy win?” – it truly is about how it happens – and the conclusions we’ve drawn along the way, as well as perhaps some philosophies that deeper books may offer us.

I know I’d said I wasn’t going to rave about it, but I can’t ignore using it as an example: The Fountainhead for me felt really personal, on so many levels that I can’t even begin to describe coherently. But the underlying theme here is the fact that, through her highly contrasting cast of characters, Ayn Rand’s writing has put into words for me, so many conclusions, judgements and philosophies that I’d already drawn up throughout my life, but had never attempted to vocalise and summarise. The different “types” of people that I’ve spent hours of my life trying to decipher, to understand, to overcome difficulties with; how I feel towards them, and they towards me, why I love or hate the way I do… my illiterate scrawls in notebooks and hours spent theorising with my therapist – all these tangents of life compacted into a beautifully crafted novel.

To view this whole “young people don’t read enough these days” issue in a different light, I have to say that too many people struggle with English Lit at high school. Asides from tutoring my sister to pass AS English Lit in half a year (so that she could qualify early for a college scholarship in America), I’ve also helped out various people throughout high school, plus I now tutor a kid on a weekly basis. And I’m disturbed by the main causes of why I think they needed help in the first place: how the teachers are teaching (or not teaching); and how these kids never read except when they are forced to do so for class. Therefore, they don’t know how to read “effectively”, how to process what they’re reading, how to analyse and absorb things, what they’re looking for – which results in their inability to scratch beyond superficial meanings, let alone concoct an in-depth analytical essay in an hour-exam! What these people have in common is the fact that they don’t read by choice as a pleasurable pastime: when they’re faced with trying to get through behemoths such as Jane Eyre or Cat’s Eye for school, they simply struggle through the books, and are reading “up to Chapter X” by certain deadlines merely because they have to! I’ve discovered that an astonishing amount of people don’t even know basic things like what a semicolon or em dash is – I had to write up sentence examples and point them out in a book to my student who is 17!

I could go on and on about this, but I’d better not and get to bed instead. I will, however, freely admit that I’ve been guilty of neglecting books in recent years, but I feel that at least I make up for it when I have some time – such as now. So that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I feel about this issue, at age 20. Maybe when I’m older I’ll look back and be one of those old grumpy adults still bitching about the same thing. Ha.

You say can we still be friends… If I was scared, I would. And if I was bored, you know I would. And if I was yours, but I’m not

I’m about halfway through working on my transcription which is due to be tested in Improvisation* class on Thursday. The transcribing part is down, but next I need to learn how to play these 64 bars of Ron Carter’s solo on “Bohemia After Dark” from the Stardust album.

I had a really long phone conversation with Miss Felisa M.D. last night, which involved hanging up as close to 59 minutes and 59 seconds as possible, because we have this phone deal at the moment that charges $2 per hour of international calling, but a lot more if the time is breached. We went over the hour mark by a few seconds once, so I really, really hope the bill doesn’t fly too high, because mum frowned when I told her about it.

Speaking of my mum, she took this awesome photo on last night when the boy and I were busy stuffing our faces with butter chicken and beer:

Also, I now stake that this post marks the day I became domesticated enough to voluntarily cook dinner whilst not home alone, and without mum having to pull the “I’m really tired and have a headache” card. Tonight for dinner I whipped up a waistline-threatening amount of couscous and then proceeded to flavour it with anything I could think of that was in our fridge. It started innocently enough, with me thinking “now I need to cook extra because I want to solve the problem of having to pack a lunch tomorrow”, and ended up involving: 4 fresh diced tomatoes, yellow and green capsicum that were diced and then pan-seared in butter, chicken cooked also in butter and some rosemary from the back yard, 4 hard-boiled eggs, a questionable* amount of olive oil, and nice dollops of whole seed mustard and pesto.

The results are as follows:

Rounded off with a beer, it was really a lovely meal, if only I hadn’t spent so long cooking it, I think my appetite would’ve been better!

*Just as I was typing the word “questionable”, I suddenly remembered the web-Comic Questionable Content that I used to follow religiously back when I was like… 15, 16? I have just over a thousand posts to catch up on, but I really mustn’t let myself indulge until the holidays, or I will never get any work done! I’d highly recommend it for anyone who enjoys a good serving of sarcastic dry humour and indie references.

A reaction starts, when

When I sit down to blog these days, I get really confused as to how to structure the posts. These days, I’ll end up with a couple of dilemmas I can never seem to decide as to how I’d like to tackle: often I’ll likely have something in mind I want to blog about, at length, but then I will also often have a set of photos either from that day or that just got processed that I’d just like to throw in for good measure… the problem is, I can never seem to decide which way round to order it. A huge chunk of writing about whatever the topic of the day is, followed by menial ramblings and some photos; OR, photos and ramblings, then huge riff raff at the end?!

I’m so indecisive with everything. It pisses me off enough as it is, I’m sure people around me must be so sick of it. Maybe that’s why I often form “favourites” at restaurants and such, and I will 99% of the time order the same thing. Boring, you may say, but I tend to go to specific places for a specific dish, etc.

But oh shucks, I had meant to do my whole blog rambly thing and then post photos of my very delicious day, but now that I’ve mentioned food and all, I can’t escape this order. I partied late into the early hours of this morning, and only got three hours of sleep before mum hauled me out of bed to go to the Clevedon Farmer’s Market with her. That sounds like she did a mean thing, but I did promise I’d go with her. We ended up having a scrumptious brunch at Maraetai beach (pics below).

Then later this evening I had a catch up with some friends over an amazing meal at Mezze Bar – the restaurant that I raved about here, and once again ordered the roast chicken with risotto, as well as sharing some Spanish meatballs. It was thanks to that meal at Mezze last month that inspired me to cook risotto twice since, and probably once again, soon!

My solution to aforementioned dilemma – posting a second blog post for today. Why not?! Lots of people post several times a day.

Bottle and mirror art work on the wall of the cafe.


Mum’s brunch order… mmm!


My eggs benedict was amazing.


Mum & I on self-timer & the hood of our car. It wasn’t very well thought out, but we had a lot of laughs taking this photo – we were against the sunlight, and it was fiddly…





Lamb Kebabs – they were very well spiced.


My roast chicken and risotto, again!

SPANISH MEATBALLS FTW!

Make me want you, make me miss you, make me wonder where you are

Whilst browsing various blogs today I stumbled across this – Filmography 2010. It’s an amazing video mash-up of movies from 2010, put to a very decent soundtrack that results in thumbs up from me:

Full list of films can be found here.

My day today in lists and pictures:

1. My grandma sent us a huge box of goodies from Taiwan.

2. I embarked on doing some form of painting. This is what it started out as. Blue, red and some white = purple.

3. Swirled some paint in a coke bottle as the beginning of a series of bottle painting.

4. Mmm, potato and leek soup for brunch.

5. Ambiguous words and symbols. Dry painted some. I still have no idea what I’m going to do over the top of it all, just pretty mindless, subconscious stuff.

6. I made a pair of matching necklaces in anticipation of my sister’s arrival home from Malibu tomorrow morning. Couldn’t find a better place to photograph them so hung them off the hook on the back of my bedroom door.

7. Had a decent play/listen/write/jam session with a man and his guitar this evening.

8. I finally moved my large painting which I did at age 13 from my old bedroom into my current on. Might post photos of it later on.

9. Currently can’t stop listening to Outkast with their smooth words and sexy basslines…

It’s the Milgram device all over again

Photo taken by sister, as per my instructions, in Sydney.

It’s 1.30pm and I am still in bed with a cold. Cancelled musical plans for today, because I don’t want to be coughing and spluttering, blowing my nose every two seconds, and spreading it to other people.

Firstly – irony: Since the Netherlands defeat in the WC final, New Zealand is the only unbeaten team in the World Cup.

There is something about Facebook that pisses me off the most. No, it’s not something integral in Facebook itself, but moreso, something that people do on Facebook. I hardly ever sign onto Facebook – in fact usually it takes an email prompt telling me someone has sent me a message or invitation, and then I click on the link, check it out, and exit. But on the rare occasion, out of boredom or curiosity that I linger on the homepage of it, I am thoroughly reminded of why I vow to never do so again until the next spout of craaazy insomnia or whatever. I just don’t understand why some people feel the urge to sit on Facebook ALL DAY and “like” everyone’s statuses and comments, nor why they are on Facebook commenting people back and forth when I know for a fact that they are already either txting or IMing each other (or worse, both).

Some girls that I see out and about in town, at the pub, clubs, etc… what are they doing? Being annoying brats and taking photos (with such bad skill it really makes my head ache) with blinding use of flash whilst everyone else it just trying to have a good time… in semi-darkness. Don’t get me wrong, I love taking pictures, especially when I’m having a great time at something – but some people take it waaay too far, taking waaay too many pictures with the same people, in every possible pose, and it just gets ANNOYING. Especially on the odd occasion I’m going somewhere without a doorlist, requiring me to stand in queue for godknowshowlong next to snap-flashing girls. Urghhh. What’s even worse than withstanding them toppling over now and then – because, you know, trying to piggyback each other whilst in short dresses in a queue thus showing off most of your bra and cellulite is very attractive – and then flashing flahsing, FLASHING, is what happens the next morning… these pictures are then splashed aaaaaaaaaaallll over Facebook, with the people in it all tagged, who then start commenting on each picture. “Oh I remember that, I was soooo wasted”, “I don’t remember that, take that off, I look awful”, “And then this and that and this and that happened before/after this photo”, etc etc. It just gets me so bored and put off, and deters me from Facebook.

Then, there’s the type of people, who (yes, I know for a fact) are in the same room as each other, all on their separate computers, logged onto Facebok, commenting back and forth with each other – WHY?! WHYYYYYY, WHYYYYYYY?!?!!??!!!!

Whatever happened to using Facebook (and other social devices on the internet) as a means of interacting with people that you don’t really get a chance to interact with in real life? At least, that’s what I use Facebook for. If I can easily reach someone via a quick txt message or by merely turning around to face them to converse – why would I want to, oh, open Facebook, log in, find the correct person’s page, then … etc…

Now I just sound like a raging, raving looney; but I’ve wanted to have a rant about that for ages. Plus, I’m still in bed… with a rather large (and growing) pile of used tissues. Gross. Semester starts next Monday, I want to be better!

Off topic, but the title is a lyric which refers to the Milgram Experiment. That stuff (and subsequent related links) gets you thinking…

Jack Kerouac