Pieces of what… doesn’t matter anymore

Yesterday I got home after a treacherous commute from uni – slip-jogging downhill in the city in rain, with a heavy bag, heavy bass, semi exposed music folders, very full ferry, awkward seating – to the glorious sight of some parcels. My Asos package and some items from the BookDepository. I’m still waiting on 4(?) more books and a dress/convertible skirt thing to arrive:

OCD, Definition 1:

What I really want to write about is “obsessive compulsive documentation”, as per inspired by Marta’s blog. But first I have to get something off my chest: I used to be quite OCD as a child. I still am a little bit now, but it’s nothing compared to what I used to be. I’m sure lots of people out there will have done some of the things I used to do, but can you tell me – how bad did it feel when you didn’t stick to those “rules” which your brain somehow constructed and told you to adhere to?

I used to, and often still do now, but in a more oppressed manner:

– have to take three steps per slab of concrete
– count everything obsessively, out loud, in my head, all the time – especially when running and swimming (which is why I gave up the latter, counting up to the 5000 region is painful whilst swimming km after km in a lap pool)
– have to touch something a certain amount of times
– have to experience the same thing on both sides of my body (I still do this, my friends find it funny, but I really don’t – especially when they trigger it intentionally, it sets me off like a house on fire. e.g., if someone slaps one arm, I will have to ask them to slap me on the other arm, at the same angle, with the same strength; or if someone steps on my foot or something stupid like that.  Actually, I’d appreciate if everyone who reads this blog that knows me in real life would please fucking stop laughing about it and triggering it, it’s anguish in my head to try and fight the urge to punch my own arm, for example.
– in addition to the above, I like to touch things with both hands. I line people’s phones up when it’s on a table. I like to stack my ipod and phone together because they’re about the same size, and I hate feeling a phone vibrate in one hand but not the other.
– most especially in homeware-type stores, I have have have to backtrack my way out of a store, as if I had a spider web-like things trailing me and I have to “untangle” my way out, so that this “thread” doesn’t loop around a shelf or rack in a store. It used to make my mum wonder why I kept walking in circles back and back around aisles.
– worst of all, I have a counting system and this is the most frustrating and made-fun-of thing ever. As mentioned above, I count. A lot. Moreover, I do this weird thing where I count three to 3, then three more to 6, then three more to 9, then two to 11, two more to 13, then three to 16 and then seven to 23. When I was younger, this systematic pattern only existed up to the number 9, but then at some point it grew to 11, 13, 16… and it did stop at 21 for a while, but somehow ended up at 23 instead. Weird, I know. And that probably made no sense to anyone else but me anyway. But the worst thing is, people make a joke out of it and I just can’t stand it! At its worst, you can tell my mind’s distracted from say, if I’m reading a book, I’ll end up reading really fucking slowly (I’m generally a fast reader otherwise) because I’ll have to look at all the punctuation on the page a certain amount of times… the page number a certain amount of times. And if it’s a number than I deem as “not good” or that I don’t like (such as 2, 4, 8), my mind psyches itself out and I have to “fix” it by looking at “good” numbers certain amount of times.

Not to mention, these are just my main things that I “have to” comply/count to. There are all sorts of random things that I obsess over as well, but don’t kick in that often, or are more easily overridden by my logic and common sense. For example, I have really, really messy (what people like to call “artsy”) handwriting – it’s mostly because I write really fast and big, and that’s just how it ends up. But those silly people that have attempted to copy my handwriting (fuck knows why), or, those even worse ones that try to criticise my handwriting beyond a necessary point, don’t realise that there’s a whole other reason which I let it become and stay so messy. To put it simply, once I make a conscious effort to make my writing neat, I end up obsessing over making it perfect. If I’m writing down music and my “neat writing” thing kicks in, then every little thing that pours over one line must immediately be erased. Or if my clefs don’t fit in the lines perfectly. Or if I haven’t divided each bar to roughly the same size.

It’s the most unbearable thing ever. Just now, I’ve scratched the back of my neck twice, on both sides, with both hands, because I can’t talk about this without succumbing to the “NEED”. I haven’t told my therapist any of this yet, though. Simply because we’re always dealing with something else and I forget about this until I get back into my car and something sets it off.

OCD, Definition 2:

Now, the other, less annoying type of “OCD” is “obsessive compulsive documentation”. To be honest, this goes beyond the desire to blog or to write in my notebook. For me, I like to keep a documentation of my mere existence and how I think/feel about things. I’ve learned so much simply by reading back in old poetry/lyric notebooks, old diaries, old blog posts, and looking through either digital photos or physical photo albums. I can’t remember how that quote goes, but I truly do believe that everything we’ve ever seen, everyone we’ve ever met and everything we’ve ever done has had its part in creating who we are today. I guess the whole “documentation” thing began the minute I was born, because my mum is a professional photographer. She’d done the big studio thing in Tokyo, did reporting for major newspapers and magazines in Taipei, and later opened up her own studio specialising in children’s photography – so my sister and I were constantly her subject of her films. She also used to do work for a parenting magazine, so whenever we so much as cried, out came the camera, snap snap, the dough rolled in. Obviously, being photographed whilst being told off or upset in general was really quite traumatising, and caused us to cry even more – but as I’ve grown up, I kind of appreciate having these things to look back on. When I was six, I asked my mum to buy me a navy and white checkered hardback diary. It came in a matching box with a lock on it, and it was to be my best friend during our immigration to New Zealand. The last time I read back through it, it occurred to me how I had started writing all in Chinese, and then in the middle was a bit of Chinglish, and eventually the Chinese got filtered out to remain only in the phrases where there’s a lexicon gap.

Then, at age 12 I discovered blogging and it changed my life. As you can see, I’ve been doing it ever since.

What I enjoy about documentation is that there’s evidence outside of myself that an experience or thought had occurred. Our memories aren’t reliable, and more often than not gets gray and blurry around the edges. Sometimes you see a view so amazing or had such a good time that you think “I’m going to remember this forever” – but really, you don’t. Some people enjoy just keeping such memories within, to themselves, but I just can’t. On top of this, such documentation often becomes a source of inspiration for me later on, when I am feeling more creative. Reading old poetry/blog/diary entries of my own have often resulted in extended verses, a new reflective blog post, and once even a painting – so see, for me it’s not just about “did that, *photograph it*, file it”, even if it appears to be to onlookers.

As for less meaning for documentation like taking crappy party photos versus taking decent film ones with a bit more effort, both are important to me. Whilst I may not (unlike most people my age) splash all my party/drunk/whatever photos all over facebook, it’s still nice for me to know that someday when I’m older and these days are over, I will have something left of it to look back on. Heck, I don’t even party that much or often anymore, so even looking back on photos from a year ago evokes nostalgia and makes me feel old already!

Point is, I like documenting. And even though I believe that, at the core we never change that much and essentially remain the same at heart, I still like to be reminded of who I used to be at any particular given point. It’s like those amazing lyrics or songs that I write in the shower, that I feel are so worthy of being worked on and properly written out, which I then forget the minute the water goes off – so too do the amazing memories and experiences that we have, if we don’t record them in some way. Plus, it’s always fun to see things from a new perspective, or think my god, I was that retarded at that age?! and then feel like a better person a few years on, isn’t it?

 

Left: welcome to the neglected corner of my room, where I tend to stash the biggest, heftiest items (refer to multiple basses and hockey gear), which then gets in the way of me trying to reach my wardrobe.
Right: my wardrobe door, on which I stuck a pile of those whacky film photos taken in Japan (my heart melts!) and Taiwan.

Traces of last night.
Left: Chocolaaate + acrylics I used to paint my bedside table last night.
Right: The remains of the beer and cupcakes which the boy and I indulged in along with Boston Legal last night.

I’ve been meaning to post this ever since Christmas. She may not enjoy my documenting ways which entails (undisclosed) unflattering photos of us, but my special lady friend sure gave me an adorabubble Christmas present which she made herself! It graces a prime spot on my wall, of course.

 

ofthesky.org/log

Boy and girl go down, To the place by the water. Creeping into the afternoon, Young aren’t so young – They’re getting restless

I hope that the nuclear leakage business in Japan due to the earthquake/tsunami doesn’t worsen; and I’m definitely relieved that all our family/friend ties there are all safe and sound as far as we know. I don’t really have the heart to blog about such things, it’s all a bit close to home, considering I was in Tokyo just 12 months ago. Also, being Taiwanese with strong Japanese ties, we hop over there for holidays all the time – like how Kiwis and Aussies holiday on either side of the ditch.

Today started like every other day – despite being a Saturday, I was supposed to wake at a certain time, but of course I ignored my alarm clock and snoozed and snoozed and snooozed. So when I finally, rather abruptly woke up completely, I once again had that huge wave of panic, oh no, what’s the time – how far have I overslept?! Luckily all was well and the boy had txted telling me to take my time. It was only quarter past nine.

We made the long drive out to Takapuna to the Department Store where he bought a very nice Topman blazer and shirt, whilst I pranced around like the distracted mind that I am, touching, smelling, feeling every fabric and fragrance I could get my hands on. I ended up with a nice loot myself (I’ll get to that later, below) and after a bit of “so where are we actually going?”, we managed to find the lovely waterfront cafe that my special lady friend* had taken me for my birthday last year. The single scoop ice cream would have more than sufficed for my taste buds and waistline, but I have an inability to pass up chocolate ice cream (because it’s always soooo good and satisfying!) , so I asked for a scoop of berry sorbet on top of that. The boy certainly didn’t complain nor fake chivalrous refusal at all, every time I offered up some of my ice cream to go with his mango sorbet, haha.

Polaroid taken at the beach. I couldn’t be bothered scanning it in, so took a digital photo of it instead.

So I know we weren’t technically supposed to be out at the beach today, but luckily everything’s fine on the NZ shores and we enjoyed a nice spot of sun by the sea, with views of such clear seawater that it was hard to imagine what’s happening both north and south of us. My mind’s been churning at high gears lately, and it didn’t help that yesterday I skipped a 3-hour percussion workshop to go home on an earlier ferry, and ended up tagging along to the boy’s 4th year Environmental Law lecture. I ended up scribbling down three full pages worth of… well heck I don’t really know nor remember… thoughts of some (definitely illegible and sporadic) description? I know he was curious as to what my mad writing speed recorded in black ink, but even I don’t remember by the second it’s made contact with paper. I have a tendency to do that – write like a mad woman and forget. Forget until I come back at some much later point where I’m calmer, and try and see my previous thoughts through fresher eyes. Unfortunately it’s not that effective in clearing my mind at all, but at least I feel like I’ve written it somewhere as a record that I can refer to and remember later.

On the topic of writing in notebooks, today we checked yet another Paper Plus to see if my favourite notebooks-in-which-to-write-lyrics-poetry-angry-stuff-anything-fake-diary-thingy was still being stocked, and was disappointed to find that it wasn’t. A peek in Borders reminded me of how much I enjoyed scribbling in a pocket soft cover Moleskine during my Californian trip, so I contemplated the larger version in a hardcover… but at $42, we were just not meant to be. $42!!! I stood there thinking perhaps, yes, the collection of my thoughts and creative streaks combined is worth far more than that monetary value, but $42 is just ridiculous for the torture that it will no doubt endure.

This led to an afternoon of browsing all the various Moleskine notebooks online and eventually ordering 3 products off BookDepository.co.uk. I know, I know, I’ve JUST endorsed them in my last blog post, but considering I just ordered the exact same notebook for the pound equivalent of $21.94NZD, I just can’t help mentioning it again. I just hope it arrives ruddy soon, because after a quick google search, I found out that the Warehouse Stationery stocks the particular line of spiral bound hardcover notebooks that I’ve been using since I was 16. Yikes, that’s just 2 months short of being 4 years. I really, really don’t want to turn 20. Don’t want to cease being a teenager. A lot of people have said I’ll get over it, and pointed out how it makes no difference, etc – but it hasn’t changed the way I feel about my age. I’m scared of growing older – and I’m only 19! Imagine me in a few years’ time, oh my god!

 

Anyway, back onto the topic of retail therapy indulgence, I walked out of the Department Store with the above make up: lipstick in a “Beguiled” shade, and nail polish in “Airplane”. This is the darkest shade of lipstick that I now own, and I like that it matches my dark cherry shade of OPI nail polish. I don’t know what’s come over me in the past year and a bit. Ever since buying my very first lipstick (a very bold, bright red by Shiseido) for my 7th form ball, my lipstick collection has slowly but surely been expanding. Due to my heavy partying and drunken dancing with some of these babies, though, there’s been a few casualties in the form of a lipstick snapping (Chanel, I wanted to cry, but managed to re-attach it thanks to googling how), some damage done by the lid because a stick wasn’t wound down far enough (Shiseido, sad to say), and one lipstick that I was really mad at myself for losing (aka forgetting on the couch in the hostel) in San Francisco – that one was a (Maquillage x Alexander Wang). I think at this rate I may as well do a lipstick post. Some people have asked me about my makeup before (like that old jewellery post I did), so maaaaybe.

Bargain of the day was an A&F t-shirt in khaki green that I scored for $10, whilst the splurge of the day goes to my Something Else sweater from their new Winter 2011 collection. Apparently it’s only been out a week, and already the one I picked up was the last one on the rack! It was on the expensive side of things, but it’s pretty much what I’ve been looking for since last winter, so I’m over the moon about it regardless. Possible photos soon.

Since I seem to have started a trend of once again posting up my more lyrical/poetic writings in blog posts, here’s one from a few nights ago when I had trouble sleeping at 2.11am:

I’ve been everywhere,
Seen everything
But you’re the only
who stirs jealousy.

We’re living in my bed,
Fucking in my head
The heat’s too much,
Still, I want your touch.

Summer’s been a battleground
Philandering through too many rounds.
But the leaves will fall
We’ll call it  a draw.

Tell me where our lives will lead.

Last thing: I’ve been listening to this song over and over. Go look this band up – The Hundred in the Hands. We were discussing today how they almost sound like what The XX’s 2nd album should sound like, haha:

*Some of you know/refer to her as the “hot redhead” often featured in photos from late nights out; I’ve mentioned said bestie as either Lottie, Char, Charlo, or Charlotte. I should really be more consistent, but I really do call her all those things.

Would you betray me, Or save me – Save me from you?

I got interrupted half way through this post but am now leaving for Gisborne so thought I’d just post this anyway and finish it off when I get back.

I have completely no idea where the past seven days has disappeared to, except that it’s been an absolute blast, and that I need to front up to the reality of university starting soon. I went tosee Rusko at the Logan Campbell Centre last night, and was thoroughly surprised that they didn’t ID anybody! It annoying felt more like going to a high school reunion rather than a dubstep gig, and I was getting so frustrated with constantly hearing “woah, what are you doing here?! I didn’t expect to see you at something like this!”. It’s like Sorry people, I’ve gone to more raves and gigs of all assortments in my time than most of you so please shut the fuck up! Is it really so hard to swallow that a jazz student who played classical music, frequents alternative/indie bars and the occasional metal would also attend raves? Nobody at college ever really knew, but by 7th form I went to all the trancey dancey things, but now that scene is pretty dead around here and largely replaced by dubstep. Anyway, I just wanted to have a little rant – this is why I no longer pretend to be friends or even acquaintances of such people from school!

The minute I finish this blog post I have a gazillion things to do and prepare, as I am going to a 21st birthday party tonight, and then having to wake up first thing tomorrow to drive down to Gisborne for the first leg of our roadtrip down to Wellington to see Sufjan Stevens next Tuesday. I’m not too sure how the trip will end up being, actually – because somehow I have ended up being the 3rd wheel – but hopefully it all goes well, and no words of ice are thrown on these hot, hot days.

Here are some photos from Laneway Festival – note that this time I didn’t have access to the photo pit, and took a large proportion of these photos from the crowd, being pushed and bounced… dangerous for my camera, but rather fun – the rest can be found here:

We started the day at Huffer & Vice’s pre-party, for free red bulls and fooood!

The pop-up store’s location.

I ended up buying a mens jacket at a discounted price, which was apparently used in their fashion show.

Loved the fact that Laneway was in the Aotea Square – the view of the Town Hall was lovely.

This is how empty the day started off as.

An Emerald City turned out to be rather nice live, because I didn’t quite “get” them when I looked them up on myspace. Plus, bassist has niiice arms.

Dude looked like he had no teeth – this is how awful Children’s Hour looked, and sounded…

And this is what we did whilst they played.

Difficult-to-eat dessert?

I thank my mum’s long lens that I didn’t have to physically get tooo close to the stage to get shots of Lawrence of Arabia.

Holy Fuck was really HOLY FUCKing good. One of my favourite shots of the day, also.

Ariel Pink was weird. Really weird. End of.

One of my highlights of the day – Blonde Redhead blew all my expectations out of the water. They were soooooo good.

She may dance funny (possibly very drunk), but her voice was the most ethereal thing I’ve ever heard.

I’d say that this is a visual presentation of what they sound like.

I told my friend that I have to marry someone who is still that stylish and classy at that age as the Italian twins.

Sooo good.

The set felt super intimate, as if we were the only people there as we were in the front row, and he even smiled at me! Also because it felt like everyone behind me wasn’t that into them, or really knew the band, and somehow they pulled off a very atmospheric set, even in broad daylight.

I say the right thing, but act the wrong way – If you wanna be with me, baby there’s a price to pay

I’ve fallen asleep in so many places in the past week that I haven’t really been home/online/at my desk, thus the slack amount of blogging. I desperately need some form of decent daily routine to up my productiveness, but the calls of partying is just too loud as the end of summer grows closer in sight. This past week has been quite a whirlwind for me, reconnecting with old ties, severing some recent ones and meeting new people all at the same time. I’m definitely guilty of biting off more than I can chew all the time – starting up more projects than I can physically juggle, and keeping up a sort of rotation-like social life. On one hand, I really enjoy it. I thrive off the copious amount of choices I have with anything from what music I want to listen to/play/write, to who I want to see/chat/dance/drink with, to what I want to be reading and writing in bed, before I sleep.

I had a cold a week ago, largely from Big Day Out, being cold, drenched and tired, and then partying too hard. When it finally eased up a couple of days ago though, what did I do? Drank too much and slept too little again. Aka partied too hard. That, and the storm that New Zealand’s been hit with hasn’t really helped the chances of my immune system with keeping up with me. It looks to be a relatively tame Saturday night tonight, but I think my Wednes, Thurs and Friday nights have made up for it, haha.

The other day I caved and bought these killer shoes for half price. Although, having said that, half price was still fucking expensive. They are ridiculously comfortable though (took them out for 5 hours of dancing, standing and walking around to test drive them that very night, haha), and has resulted in me listing a pile of shoes that I don’t wear on Trademe.co.nz. I’m also currently selling a Sufjan Stevens ticket (Wellington), dress and various shoes. Click here for my listings :).

These bad boys make me veeery, very tall. I’m 5’7″ to start with… the platform itself is 1.5″ and then a 4″ heel wedge…

Mum didn’t say much (guilt, guilt, guilt about retail therapy, but I’m happy with them, haha), except that she looooves the leather. So soft and amazing.

So uhh, I don’t know how my legs ended up looking this tanned in the photo, haha. Very messy room though, am tidying out my wardrobe – dirty laundry on the floor, etc. Typical Amanda.

Aaaaand I’ve finally gotten my Laneway Festival Media Pass. Just smudged out my media outlet’s name until I have the photos and write up to link to.

This track – listen to it. I am so hooked it’s not funny. It’s a mash up of The Strokes’ “Hard To Explain” and Christina Aguilera’s “Genie In A Bottle”. Asides from being pure genius, they happen to be two of my fave tracks – “Hard To Explain” was the first Strokes song I ever heard, and they’ve been one of my favourite bands ever since, so there we have it.

Conversations from Wednesday and last night have really got me thinking about the chronology of my music tastes. I get really flustered whenever people ask me “what music to you like/listen to?”. Because I honestly listen to such a wide variety that I don’t even know where to begin to describe what my tastes are. I know it seems really superficial, but being the music freak that I am, I really do feel that these days, to a lot of people, what music someone is into makes a big enough difference on the impression they leave – akin to that of a first, visual impression. I can’t be bothered analysing my own musical etymology right now, but put it this way, within the two past weeks I have: gone crazy on a one-woman-dance-rampage over Ratatat + relived the nostalgia of my youth in the Deftones moshpit + creamed myself (awful expression, I know) over Rammstein’s set and pyrotechnics from the 2nd row at BDO + gone clubbing at places where “everyone goes” and they play supposedly the “most popular” tracks + had a blast to Tidball’s set at Cassette 9 + spent the rest of that evening listening to pop favourites from the past decade with friends (think Britney Spears, Blue, Christina Aguilera, Back Street Boys, Liberty X, Mis-Teeq sort of stuff)… not to mention, in the next two weeks I will see an array of bands at Laneway Festival that are more akin to recent music tastes + go to see Rusko + be at Sufjan Stevens’ concert in Wellington… I would also love to see Queens of the Stone Age again, but I can’t really bring myself to fish out $85 ish in my current state of unemployment.

Don’t even mention it – I’ve been looking and applying for jobs. And I know that I’m picky, because I want to keep whatever job I get as a part-time thing for the next two years, like I did with my last job – so I don’t want to hate whatever it is!

Park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me

This is the jewellery post that’s been requested a few times… and now you can see why I’ve procrastinated from it.

The days are so happy, the air so warm, my mind is so alive but I keep listening to broken songs. The prose and poetry I keep scribbling in notebooks or drafting but not publishing on my blog are all so full of achiness. Not outright pain, no longer sorrowful, but some sort of deep-reaching ache like that of an old sporting injury that never fully recovered… which you completely forget about until you try to exercise that particular region and suddenly you tense up a little and find no solid strength that you can rely on.

I’m taking a really long drive out to the countryside to a friend’s house tomorrow, so that should inject me with some more positivity and creativity as well as a splash of saltwater and sunshine. Although chances are, knowing myself, I can still derive some other kind of ache to write about late into the night after that, I’m sure.

Anyway, here is the jewellery post that has been requested a few times now. It’s not my entire collection, but its the pieces that are frequently gracing my limbs or are of some kind of special value:

This is the chain that I got for Christmas on which I soldered my charms on today. I had been so careful to not burn my hands a second day in a row, but my sister startled me at one point and I burnt my knee instead. That’s two blistering burns in two days. The really painful background to this bracelet is that earlier this year (I don’t want to go into details again or I might cry), following some unfortunate series of events, I ended up losing my silver charm bracelet which my parents gave me on my tenth birthday. I had been collecting charms on it annually ever since, so I was so shattered when it got lost in rather unexplainable circumstances. Ever since, mum and I have been slowly buying back the same old charms, as well as new ones. I know it’s never going to be the same, but I guess I could think of this as the chain with my adult life on it, rather than childhood. I am the most sentimental person ever, and for better or for worse, I attach a lot of emotions onto possessions, so it seriously felt like I lost my childhood.

It was really hard to photograph all the charms clearly without being really anal about it, so I just couldn’t be bothered and will make a list instead. So far these are the charms I’ve got on the bracelet above, from left to right: Bell – which is a replica of what I got for my 18th birthday, mum’s intentions were that it signified or heralded me into adulthood… Kangaroo bought at the Blue Mountains in Australia; Cable Car I got from San Francisco; State of California (it’s at a funny angle in the picture) from my trip; Mickey Mouse from Disneyland; Spider which was originally from when I was 13; Bear which mum bought me from Yosemite National Park in America; Car for my 17th birthday when I was involved in a car crash and needed a car; Ballerina for my 12th birthday; Quavers and Treble clef originally for my 11th birthday.

I don’t know how I remember all that, but somehow I do – which just truly reflects how attached I was to my bracelet, I guess. It’s like I have to buy all my years back, in the form of a little piece of metal – which I know sounds retarded… but. Every time I think about it – such as now – I seriously feel my eyes well up in a gush of frustration and anger especially at self, with “what if”s and “if I could have changed my actions and reactions” that night. I need to let go.

This picture shows some of my favourite silverware. The write cuff at the back with the turkey stone is actually my mother’s – I just kind of have it on loan from her. She had it custom made for her when she was about my age as she couldn’t find any jewellery that fits her very small wrist. Nowadays, we have yet to find someone other than us two who can comfortably fit it. The turquoise bracelet is a high school graduation gift from mum and the key attached to the side of it is a charm from my sister. It’s not very visible here, but the silver bracelet in the foreground features a heart-shaped clip at the front. I got this for my 19th birthday, and I was supposed to put my aforementioned charms on this one, but I decided not to in the end. The bracelet on top of that is a Pandora bracelet that I got for my 18th birthday. The charms aren’t very clear here, but they are placed in the order which I got them: Rabbit, Mother of Pearl Hearts & Hedgehog from my mum. She was born in the year of the rabbit, and as for the hedgehog, we have an inside joke/nickname between us from when I was younger – she’d tell me I’d be nasty and prickly like a hedgehog whenever I got angry, and so it kinda reads like rabbit loves hedgehog/hedgehog loves rabbit. Just some cute, sweet mother-and-daughter thing I guess, haha.

Next to that I got a Suitcase charm from an old friend, signifying all the places I want to, and will embark on traveling to; the next two are from a handful of friends – a Four-Leafed Clover and a pair of Quavers – all were for my 18th birthday. The last two were from this year – a friendship knot from my friend Cara for my 19th, and a Kangaroo from dad when we went to Australia earlier this year.

The two rings were both self-bought in Taipei earlier this year as well, on separate occasions. The funny thing about this set of jewellery is that I often like to wear these turquoise pieces with my aqua Dr Martens because they’re the same colour!

This is just a bunch of my other bits of silverware. As you can see, I have a preference for silver, and I’m not really into gold. In fact, I don’t think I photographed any gold pieces I have, because I never wear them. The half-heart necklace on the right hand side has my sister’s name, Liv engraved on it, and she has the other half with my name. Mum bought these as Christmas presents for us last year, signifying the two pieces of her heart… Christmas was a bit of an emotional time for us in 2009 because we weren’t sure whether or not my sister would be home for Christmas this year (turns out she is though, but won’t be in 2011). I had worn it every single day since last Christmas, until November… (see below)

The necklace to the left of that was bought at Kinkaku-ji (a.k.a. Temple of the Golden Pavilion) in Kyoto when I went there in February. The huge chunky bracelet in the middle is from a Charlie Brown boutique in Sydney. On the far left is a feather pendant which I wear on a silver chain around my neck. Someone on formspring asked me why I wanted a feather tattoo, which is for the same reason that I have this necklace: the Chinese character for feather is part of my name, and also bares a lot of meanings, symbolism and connotations.

Here are some of the rings that have rotated as favourites of mine for the past few years. The middle one is from Disneyland; the 2nd one from the left is from Japan; 2 to the right of it was bought at the same time as a ring for a very old friend, years and years ago. The ring with the longest history out of this bunch is the band that is 2nd from the right – it dates back to the summer of 2005 when a bunch of mates and I were at the mall, and the boys found it. We all wrangled over it for ages, and took turns keeping it, but somehow I’ve hogged it ever since, haha.

This is by far the prettiest necklace that I own, and its entanglement and stranglehold of my neck was the only reason that I took off my aforementioned half-heart necklace (which my sister wears the other half of) back in November. Liv and I were shopping in Santa Monica and it was love at first sight when I laid eyes on it. Liv was quite taken with it too, but after seeing the little matching heart piece which dangles down the back of my neck when worn, she immediately insisted that it was stunning and that I had to buy it. Ironically she ended up paying for it, and the dress I bought from that store, yay. What I love about it most is how it sparkles in the sunlight… Oh take me back to our afternoon in Santa Monica under the Californian sun…

These are longer necklaces which I like to wear with loose shirts, and a lot of black. The key on the left is the backdoor key to my friend’s old house at which he no longer resides. It hangs off a piece of Kangaroo leather which I bought in Brisbane in 2008. The bullet casing in the middle is indeed a real one, from a friend who does rifle shooting. I’ve often forgotten I was wearing it whilst traveling and worry about it being confiscated at customs. For some reason I always fail metal detectors and even hand metal detectors several times; and my luggage has to get x-rayed over and over, so this doesn’t really help… I made it into a necklace using the chain and ring of an old necklace that had a broken pendant. The hourglass necklace does indeed work, and I bought this at Wasteland on Melrose Ave in LA last month.

The necklace on the left is something that I only ever wear when I’m wearing some nice dress for a fancy ish dinner or something. It looks kinda shit in the photo but based on several compliments about it, I’d have to say it actually looks pretty fancy and expensive in real life. Ironically, I bought it for $5 from Bling when it was shutting down at Botany at the end of 2008, I think. The necklace to the left of it is from the Free People boutique on Cahuenga Blvd, in Hollywood. The left two necklaces were made by me about a week and a half ago, as seen in this post.

Just a bunch of slightly quirky bracelets over the years, the newest addition being the rain and umbrella bracelet at the bottom, which I got for Christmas. See, it is really a widely known fact that I love the rain. The bracelet above that as well as the top two red and blues ones were from Aotea Square market years and years ago, all on separate occasions. The black one is a mass of dagger-like hearts. The fine silver thing above that is actually an anklet, which I don’t wear much because the bells get really loud and I feel as if I sound like a belly dancer when I walk around… The pretty flower bracelet in the middle is a handmade gift from a Japanese friend, from back in 2004, I think.

This is what I wear on my right ear. That’s one earring, looped through the three lobe piercings I have. I didn’t take a picture of the left ear, just in case newly-pierced industrial piercing (which I only got only last month, in Hollywood) was crusty or something… up close is not a good view. I just usually wear plain silver studs on the lobes, and occasionally a single, dangling earring. I’ve actually got quite a collection of quirky earrings, but I hardly ever wear them, so I couldn’t be bothered posting them today.

Wrist candy from this year. I love watches. At one point in time before I cared about comfort whilst bass-playing, I wore three, large-faced watches – each telling the time of a different time zone that was relevant to my family.

So there it is… the heavy metal that adorns me often. I didn’t really want to do this post for ages, because for one, look! It’s turned out fucking huge… since I can’t do something without going into details! and two, it just looks like a narcissistic showy post. But oh whatever, I’d waited until I got a fair few requests for it, so for once I am satisfying someone out there with a blog post haha! As if that’s normal for me.

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