Call your office on the phone, You can say you won’t be coming home – You’re dancing vacations on

May 1, 2011

I know that lots of people who know me IRL read/browse through my blog, but I obviously don’t care who reads this. Yes, I’m airing dirty laundry online, but at least my clothes are all intact. I’m not going to become one of those facade-bloggers that only blog about the bright and cheery stuff in my life as if I’m living in utopia even though in reality, everything is hectic, fucked up, stressful, and makes no logical sense. I think… really, this blog post is about how apparently I have to constantly lose things that are important to me(?!!) In order to truly appreciate what I still retain, things and people that tend to slip under the radar but whom I wouldn’t be the same without.

In my last post I had said that something wasn’t right and was hoping that it would work out. Well it didn’t. Long story short, my “best friend” came over to my house and broke up with me as a friend. Complete with a bag full of my stuff. As if she were breaking up with some guy. Who the hell does that?! This is someone who I had held in tremendous regard, who was my closest confidant for the past year or two, and we did and shared everything with one another. I guess not anymore.

I thought it was a given that when people cease being friends that they either have some kind of huge falling out, or they end up drifting apart. No one I know of has ever heard of someone ending a friendship like how you would break up with a lover.

I guess I was wrong, and once again placed trust and faith in people who ultimately let me down. Before anyone even tries to say “maybe she’ll come around” – no, she won’t. She’s too proud and stubborn for that shit, and I’m too dead-set on my own life now to waste precious time and energy hoping. Come on – who gets over a friend just like that?! And what’s wrong with becoming more casual friends that occasionally hang out and usually don’t speak at all? Rather than completely annihilating the whole friendship as if it was a complete dream based on bullshit. It’s not the fact that it’s happened that bugged me most, its the way it happened, and the stupid series of events that led up to it. And yes, it’s a long story, but I’m not leaving anything important out – there was no great life-changing catalyst that caused this. None that warrants this emotionally-immature of a response anyway. The motto I tend to live by is that if something’s wrong, you try and fix it. And if you can’t fix it, then you live with it, hopefully in lesser doses. I’d always been envious of the way how she’s been so (relatively) sheltered both physically and emotionally, and she’s even said in the past how she can’t imagine having gone through and having to deal with half the things I have, and I’m not even 20 yet. I was envious because sometimes I would think, wouldn’t it be so great if I were a little more ignorant, suffered less pain, and a whole lot more innocent because of it? People have said that all those things have made me who I am today, and I wouldn’t change the things I’ve learnt, but now I’m not envious of being sheltered anymore. I’ve been through worse fights, yell-fests, public shaming and humiliations due to arguments/conflict/friction with friends before… but the most important people that I’m closest to have stuck by me through thick and thin regardless of the wrongs we had done, and the things we said in voices too loud, out of spite or the spur of the angry moment. I just kind of feel sorry for both of us now – her for being cruel and cold and her inability to care; and me for caring, wondering who will have to throw her “surprise 21st birthday party” in six months’ time, for giving a shit, and all the hurt and pain that comes with it…

All of the frustration, hurt and anger aside though, it’s just a pity really – all the things we have in common and both enjoy are still there. The things we agree and disagree on are just the same. I don’t know why it had to be so melodramatic. It feels like, “boo hoo Amanda, tough shit that you care and I don’t give two shits”. She said she knows it’s cruel, but my response to that was “don’t you dare try to pretend that you know how inhumane this is”. Don’t get me wrong, she was an amazing friend while it lasted. But honestly, how do you purge yourself of a former best friend? Am I supposed to rip a few things off my wall now, because they were from or relating to her? I mean, WHAT THE FUCK.

Irrelevantly, I’m suddenly really glad (don’t take this the wrong way) that I’m completely heterosexual, with no chance of ever striking up a same-sex relationship. I can’t imagine how badly female lovers would treat each other! As I was saying to the boy earlier tonight, the dumb questions that females ask because they need reassurance, urgh. Anyway, I’ve fucking had it with losing best friends. Up until this broke the record, what with being 2011, I’ve lost one every other year of my life since 2002 (04, 06, 08, ’10). Just as I was getting my hopes up that for once that someone who hates so much the “atrocious things girls do to each other”, wouldn’t be the same – well apparently she is capable of the exact same, if not worse crime.

On a compleeetely different note, aren’t these the cutest things to receive for Easter? “Charlie the Easter Chick” was from the boy, and the delightfully cute mini eggs are from his mum. I’m pleasantly surprised and proud of myself for having managed to savour them over a week, rather than devouring them all in one sitting.

Last night the boy and I went to his friend’s house for a bit of a gathering as three of his friends had returned from studying out of town and abroad. Whilst most of us were having fun chucking down junk food and beers with the (unneeded) aid of drinking games, two of them decided to be a bit on the anti-social side, and watched the royal wedding instead. A bit surprising, really. I don’t hold much interest otherwise, but I’m glad that Middleton’s dress was by McQueen. It was executed magnificently.

As a side note, it was interesting to see how people responded to the “quote” at the end of my last blog post. Interesting, because just as I had predicted, people took what it was saying far more seriously and thought about it a bit more, because I had quoted it rather than just put it as a paragraph in my post. Basically, I quoted myself. I know the first line sounds a bit “off”, but it’s all a bit out of context and things relating to it were taken out, so that’s why.

“Strength is Happiness. Strength is itself victory. In weakness and cowardice there is no happiness. When you wage a struggle, you might win or you might lose. But regardless of the short-term outcome, the very fact of your continuing to struggle is proof of your victory as a human being.” – Daisaku Ikeda

You seem very well, things look peaceful. I’m not quite as well, I thought you should know

April 25, 2011

Sometimes, some things just aren’t okay. And don’t feel okay. And… well they just aren’t okay. And when there’s nothing more you can do about it, when you’ve done your very best according to you and everyone else you can find solace in, then what are you supposed to do and feel from here? I hate that so many things are great in my life right now, but it seems that fate will never let all external factors be okay with me. I know, I know, life’s not meant to easy. Neither are friendships and relationships with everyone and anyone in life – but it just seems like there always has to be something wrong in my life. When it wasn’t drama with one friend, it was drama with another friend, or drama with classes, teachers, classmates, drama on the sports team, drama in the music ensembles, drama in the family (okay, that never seems to and I know will never go away, but it at least has its calms), drama with boys, girls, more boys and more girls, drama oh drama drama drama, all the time. And it sucks so bad when it’s with someone so close to me, who I so badly want to talk to, hang out with all the time, and it’s not reciprocated. In this post from back in September of last year, I expressed the pains of breaking up with a former best friend, and how it feels like – if not worse – than breaking up a romantic relationship. It’s different of course, but you know. Anyway, some really messed up and traumatic thing from about 15 or 16 years ago unwittingly surfaced for me recently, and I’ve finally managed to deal with it head-on… and afterwards it just made me think, gosh, the things I really want to say, and the people I wish I could tell them to right now – the shoulder that I really need… isn’t there.

I was feeling really shitty and end-of-mid-semester-break-blue today, and got really cheered up by the surprise revelation that classes don’t resume on Tuesday as I had thought they were – classes actually don’t start until Wednesday! I was all frantic and “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!!!” to the couple of people I was txting who replied with “I thought you knew”-type responses, but heck it made my day. Also, instead of getting anything legitimate done (okay, I did some more writing, but that’s not uni-work, thus not “legitimate”), I devoured three films with mum today. One was a Chinese film which at first seemed like commentary on life, romance, priorities, marriage, etc – but with a really warped and twisted sense of humour – but then it ended up really depressing towards the end when someone died of cancer and decided to hold their funeral while they were still alive so that they could attend it. I don’t know if there’s a proper name for when they do that, instead of an uhh “funeral”. And the latter film was Robin Hood. You know, the one with Russel Crowe, which I had largely questioned about the casting of, and was initially skeptical about but it ended up being enjoyable enough and wasn’t quite as the mother and I had expected it to play out as.

I’ve had a huge up-and-down of a long weekend, starting on Thursday night when the boy and I decided we were going to make it an overtly indulgent and decadent evening of fine dining and wining at home. The highlight of dinner was my chicken cordon bleu with pesto, and my god we drank so much wine that night that even with the copious amounts of food, I was drunk enough to doze off whilst watching Boston Legal – and it’s my all-time favourite, funniest show, so that’s saying a lot. The wines were a mix of his 21st birthday presents and leftover party wine, plus some Villa Maria that I had bought on sale ages ago that’s been stashed at the back of our pantry. Neither of us are habitual wine drinkers, but we’d been talking about it for sometime now, and watching the film Sideways the other night had helped to kick it off. Four bottles that night. Or technically three and a half. Not a bad effort. It was fun to mix and match up Riesling, Chardonnay, Sav Blanc/Pinot Gris (and also some Merlot) to see which best matched what food.

I’m hungry, just looking at this now.

A lot of capsicum. I had kiiinda forgotten how expensive they were, but my god I love capsicums. Or as Americans call it, bell peppers.

Brock’s Italiano salami – my favourite – and brie. Another favourite of mine. Ahh!

These photos were all taken before I got too “happy”…

Another night later, another bottle of wine.

So many calories to burn off, but hockey training is getting tougher, and to make things worse, a fitness regime is also kicking in. But we are still young and must live close to the edge while we still can. Before we are too self-important, and too heavy with weights too dear to bear the risk of toeing the edge. And I will leave this post with this:

“Honestly, honesty never gets you everywhere. It may get you a lot of places, likewise your pretty face and ratio between your waist and hips, and those glorious breasts of yours that both sexes visually devour. But you hate that you can’t take any credit for how you look, so you feel more and more empty every time someone does a double take at you, or when strangers cross the room just to meet you. Because all they like thus far is to look at you, and maybe some of them like to hope that there is more to you… but alas, most often there isn’t much to them either so you’ve learnt to not get your hopes up. You need to learn what it’s like to look forward to something again, to be so excited for something that you’re counting down the days, hours and minutes as if nothing further down the line matters. You need to learn what it’s like to be free and young again. And worst but most of all, you need to remind yourself that you are indeed still young.”

Oh, and I ended up finishing Looking For Alaska the day after I started it, and am back to The Great Gatsby. Hopefully reading stays on track as my life starts to veer again.

Stuck inside my imagination, Busy making something from nothing. Pictures of hope and depression, Anything is better than nothing

April 21, 2011

It’s been a mind-and-history-delving, poetic-reading and inspired-writing couple of days. The highs and lows are hitting me in waves, waves and waves like nothing before, but it’s been interesting to see how I’ve grown up and changed in the way that I’ve been dealing with everything. Asides from an intense hockey training tonight that kicked up with a huge run around the block (man, that block seems so much smaller when driving!), everything I’ve done for the past few days hasn’t really taken much physical effort. Oh yeah, I forgot that two days ago I trekked my way into uni in the stormy weather to have a kind-of rehearsal – but because of yesterday’s events, the day before feels like a month ago by now.

Three albums that have been on repeat for the day:

New Moon – Elliott Smith

A posthumous release, I had never really paid much attention to it until recently. But tonight, the songs between “High Times” and “Going Nowhere” are really striking a chord with me. Pun unintended. For me, Elliott Smith’s music is largely about the mood and lyrics, since majority of songs aren’t instrumentally or musically complex at all. I mean, sonically, only “Everything Means Nothing To Me” (one of my favourites, ever – definitely worth a listen) from his Figure 8 album really really stands out, because it’s in an epic key on the piano, full of black notes.

Raven In The Grave – The Raveonettes

The Raveonettes is one of my favourite bands, and this is their latest album. My favourite is Lust Lust Lust, but that has its time and place, and is a whole other bittersweet story altogether. Point is, I don’t care what Pitchfork or whoever else says, this is a great album. Not a life-changing release that’s about to influence me and leave the same imprint as Lust Lust Lust did, for sure, but it’s enjoyable nonetheless. They just do concepts, atmosphere and nostalgia so fucking well. And I’m all about atmosphere and nostalgia. Oh nostalgia! Take me back, when…

23 – Blonde Redhead

Even though they’ve been around for years and years and years (in other words, they first released something when I was aged 2), I’ve only started listening to them recently. So it’s a huge testament to say that now they’re my 6th top band on lastfm, which I’ve been scrobbling on since late 2006 – albeit with a couple of years off in the middle. They’re just amazing and so far I’ve haven’t ceased discovering something new in the many layers of their music, every time I listen. In a way, I think that I look up to the Italian Pace – brothers who make up 2/3 of the band – because of their “backgrounds in jazz”. According to various interviews and web-sources, they seem to have Bachelor degrees in jazz, so it’s refreshing to see jazz graduates moving on and making such beautiful yet relatable music that isn’t jazz. They would be around the same age as my tutors at jazz school, and I can’t help but hope that their paths is the one I take. I mean, jazz is wonderful, but I just don’t have the same passion for it next to some of my fellow students. I’m kind of in the middle-ground actually. There are those that are wholeheartedly intent on making jazz waves and they live, eat and breathe jazz; then there are others who are purely doing it for a music performance degree, and don’t even enjoy jazz. And really, I’m in the middle of the two. I enjoy it, but it’s not my #1-always-all-the-time thing. Music in general is. Anyway, wild tangent aside, I love this album.

Something I wrote two nights ago in a frenzy. Always in a frenzy:

Lines on my face
this clear trail you can claim to
Scars in my chest
these years you’ve been through.
So much easier now that she speaks
and you’re not listening
So much harder now that you talk
and she’s not hearing.
Uneasy questions on my face
you can’t respond to
Wounds in in the harshest place
those nights you’ve lived through.
Haunted by the spark I blew
The one true part I claim of you
Realisation in your eyes –
to truth.
I weep.
If I walked once so easily
What makes you trust and stick with me?
If I walked once so easily
What makes you trust and stick with me?

My copy of John Green’s Looking for Alaska just arrived today so I think I might tuck into bed with it now. Although I’m partway through The Great Gatsby, I think Fitzgerald can wait. Just a little while. And for now, some relevant, such relevant… food for thought (it makes more sense and is even more relevant in private, but I can’t go scrawling such internal ancient matters on the internet):

“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.” – Elizabeth Kubler Ros

By that definition, who are the beautiful people you know?

This is more than I can take, I fear my heart will burst or break. If there’s a thing as too much joy, I will be taken away

April 18, 2011

I’m still completely physically shattered from the events of yesterday, so this is going to be a very image-heavy post. So yesterday I finally played my first game of winter hockey since 2009! The good news is, we won 5-nil and our captain got a hat trick. The bad news is that after five (if not more) shots on goal, I didn’t manage to get a single one in – one flew wide and the rest somehow narrowly got away or were saved, ahhh! And the worst catch was, it was pouring down with torrential rain. It was raining so hard that I had to constantly wring water out of my shirt and skirt so that it wouldn’t stick to me as much whilst I was running. On top of that, it’s obviously not the easiest thing in the world to hold onto, as well as exert force with a hockey stick, without losing grip of it. I put in a lot of reverse hits at the goal, although they weren’t flying high enough towards the preferred far corner, but for now I’m just really happy that I executed them all and didn’t skin my knees too badly in the process. New turf is skin’s worst enemy!

The rest of post and photos follow after the cut off. Photos courtesy of mum, from far far away at the top of the spectator stands where it was nicely sheltered, but you can see on some of the photos just how hard it was raining the whole time. In chronological order (I played as either Centre Forward or Left Wing throughout the whole game, in the #6 shirt):

I have no idea why or how my legs and feet look really awkward there.

So much for make believe, I’m not sold. So much for dreams we see, I’m not prepared to know

April 13, 2011

I just got home from CJC featuring James Ryan (Aus) down at 1885 in Britomart. It was a nice evening of jazz featuring Ron on drums, which always reminds me to appreciate what amazing musicians we’re being taught by at jazz school. I didn’t take many photos as I was mostly preoccupied with listening, and I also had a very corner seat which meant the angle wasn’t great either. Asides from James Ryan’s amazing tone and just lines, lines and more lines, I mostly couldn’t get over the facial expressions that Tom made whilst playing bass. We all know that drummers pull some pretty interesting faces, but woah, Tom’s taken the cake of anything I’d ever seen. That, and the fact that he is the only bass player I know (other than a shorter female) who has their spike lower than me. Although he’s only around my height anyway, the (lack of) height of his bass in relation to him really puzzled me. Perhaps it’s because he mostly plays bent right over…

Usually I really hate having incohesive blog entries that just fly left right and centre, but the following cannot wait for the next post! Yesterday I drove out to the Just Hockey store and bought all the gear I’ve been needing to replace for a while. It completely emptied out my bank account, but my had kindly offered some support, plus seeing as it’s my birthday soon, we can bank it on that.

I am so in love with my hockey stick. For once I am really really really excited about going to training tomorrow just so I can try it out. I’ve been having forehand hitting problems with my previous stick for as long as I have had it (since 2008!), so it’s been such a relief to get a stick that has a decently balanced weight that will put a lot more power and accuracy on my forehand hit. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my old stick at the time of purchase, but I’ve really grown out of the feel of it – its good feel for reverse hitting just wasn’t making up for the lack of power that I need on my forehand. So here we have its successor, a Malik Gaucho. I’ve been wanting a Malik stick ever since I started playing hockey, because I had tried an international student’s Malik stick and fell in love with it. Unfortunately, New Zealand didn’t stock them for ages so I’ve only managed to buy one now. It was a close call between this, and the 2010 Gryphy Taboo Magnum. Which to some people may appear to be a better stick on paper, cos its original price was a hundred dollars more, but they really felt pretty similar in my hands. Now I just need to name this Malik stick…

I also had to get new turf shoes because my old ones have a large gaping hole in each foot, and always left my feet wet. I reasoned out having bought all this at once because the petrol and effort involved with getting out to the Just Hockey store again simply for shoes was out of the question. On top of that, I spent two hours ripping off my old shinguard lining so I could now use new ones. Phwroar.