shaking the habitual

In a conversation with a friend the other night, we were discussing our childhood and adolescence, being bullied by girls and general bodily awareness, etc. She pointed out something that I had never considered before — that, before a certain point in time, your body was just one whole part. You were you, that’s what you looked like, and that’s just the way it was. Until one day, someone makes a comment about your body, and suddenly your awareness heightens, and you start to question your body and the form that it takes.

After thinking about this, I realised that I can remember a very distinct shift from merely acknowledging that my body looked a certain way, to realising that my actions can cause my body to look different. It’s sad that, once you cross that line, there is no going back. Life used to be, oh, swimming training, ballet classes, run the 800m heats, blah blah, and all was well. Then one day, I realised, it’s all this swimming and ballet that has given me a really lean physique with strong abdominal muscles. That switching these two for hockey then gave me a thicker build, along with hockey thighs. That my gluttony over a few meals will amount to jeans being tighter or beers equating to a gut. And as a woman, these are consequences that are too hard to ignore sometimes.

Even though I don’t really “watch what I eat” and barely try to be moderate about it all, admittedly, one big reason I love hockey season so much is that I can then consume without as much thought as when it’s off-season — because it’s almost guaranteed to burn off. Case in point: in December I bought a beautiful pair of Rag & Bone jeans in New York, and this was right after a season of winter and summer hockey, and I’d walked and walked and walked on my trip. Then I get home, Christmas and New Years happens, with no hockey… and now I can’t fit them anymore. Hopefully if my coach continues her current plan of playing me on the left wing for the first sixty minutes (of a 70 minute game, ouch!) I will definitely be reaping in rewards in the form of muscle gain and fat loss. (Disclosure: I’m weird in that I gain and lose muscle easily so my weight fluctuates not 1-2kg like most females, but more like 4-7kg) But if I were ten again, I would just think, oh yay, I feel a bit fitter and lighter. Not, I lost muscle and put on fat, boo hoo, must reverse this. This body awareness thing was much easier when I only ate what my mum put on the dinner table, and did the amount of sports prescribed.

Also, I’d forgotten about these photos until I stumbled across these scans just before. They were taking during a jazz combo rehearsal at uni last year. Funny how I can forget about these completely, yet now that I’ve found them, I can remember what it felt like at the time, framing these shots in fairly quick succession, then putting the camera away to not be a distraction.

All taken on Kodak Colour Reversal film; Nikon F3.

Now, they’re scared of where their daughter’s been, ’cause who knows, she could be alone with men

Taken on Ilford HP5 Plus 400 B/W film; Nikon F3.

I’m supposed to be moving out of home in a week’s time and I haven’t packed a single thing. My room is a wreck but I keep telling myself that there’s no point in tidying since I will be leaving soon anyway. I think the main thing I need to do is throw things out, rather than pack it all. Because who really needs shoe boxes full of clothing tags when they have boxes worth of postcards? Clearly, I “collect” too many things. The amount of books and clothes I have will be a mission to sort through, let alone everything else. That’s the mystery with me — because I can happily live out of a suitcase for weeks and not miss anything, yet when I’m back home, I can’t seem to let anything go.

I’m also starting to get terribly nostalgic about everything, thinking like, this will be the last weekend I sleep in this room and other pointless, torturous thoughts. I’m just too sentimental. And yet, I don’t think I would care half this much, if I was moving far, far away to the other side of the world. I’m only moving twenty kilometres away, it’s really not a huge deal. Plus I’ll probably be home for dinner at least once a week since I am still tutoring around here, and hockey is five minutes away. I just don’t know how my sister ever coped with leaving the cat!

Case in point — I found him sleeping on my double bass yesterday afternoon. Just too adorable:

Also, I’m pleasantly surprised at how much The Strokes’ new album is growing on me. For some unspecified reason, my favourite track so far is “Slow Animals” (below). I’d almost forgotten about their ridiculous 5-album-contract until I read this the other day. It’s an interesting analysis of what’s happening there, but I don’t know… maybe when it comes to bands from the early noughties, I really don’t like to over-analyse. I’d prefer to hang onto that feeling I had from ten years ago when I first started blogging, first really fell for music of my own accord, and was far too young to register half the lyrical content of  bands like The Strokes, Bloc Party, and of course the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. As much as I have to acknowledge that great things happen in Auckland and New Zealand, I can’t help but constantly feel that we’re so far off from being at the epicentre of anything. Maybe that’s why I wouldn’t care that much for all my stuff if I were moving far, far away.

heavy night it was a heavy night, feels like we’ve come back from the dead

Given recent events, university starting again, and just basically everything in general, that shiny, clean-slate sheen of the new year has more than worn out for me. I have no idea what anything means any more. I’m trying to avoid the snowball-effect where one lecture’s worth of readings and notes turns into three, into thirteen, into thirty, and the next thing I know is — well I don’t know anything. There isn’t a name to describe the state I’m in, but it’s a constant state of perpetual sadness. The death of hopes, of far-fetching plans — of a part of me. Every day that I’m at uni, I fluctuate between rushing to jazz school for instructed combo rehearsal in my only hour off from law lectures, or meeting a friend for California burritos. And amidst this flurry… where the hell am I, and who am I about to be? I’ve been chilling the fuck out, but I’m still serious about the things I do. I just don’t feel like I quite fit in anywhere. I want to do well, I want to come out near the top when my law marks have been scale-graded against my peers (that’s how they’re marked, on a rough bell curve, rather than raw scores) and I want to pull off a good graduation recital later this year. I want all these things and I want more. But the rest of the jazz cats or the law kids want things that are at least going in somewhat the same direction, and the things I’m after are pulling me every which way. To top it off, I’ve been debating with myself for ages over whether or not I can realistically still play hockey this season, but I’ve decided I will go to Division 1 trials after all. My father kindly pointed out that I would regret it if I don’t, and if it all really gets too much, the worst that could happen is that I’d have to drop out for the remainder of the season. So I’m going to do it.

On Thursday night the boy and I went to see Bloc Party. I’d seen them in December in LA with my sister and they were amazing, but the crowd there was awful, and — not to be racist, merely factual — a black chick tried to get in a fight with me. By that, I mean she actually did hit me several times. Just, what the hell, it’s a concert, when you’re in the fourth or fifth row and there’s a big gap in front of you, someone is going to go and stand there! So yeah, that was an experience and a half. But the Auckland crowd was predictably much mellower, and I certainly enjoyed second-row views of Gordon Moakes. I was sad they didn’t play Sunday (see blog title), but Signs was definitely a pleasant surprise. I just have no idea why Moakes looked so sad during the whole set, like something was wrong and he didn’t want to be there, who knows?

After the show I’d managed to get my hands on a set list, but a nasty girl knocked it out of my hands and into the photo pit. Then she went bailing over the barrier head-first to retrieve it. I really wasn’t in the mood to lose any dignity over it, so gave up. Luckily for me, an old friend was in the opening act, and although they didn’t get to meet Bloc Party, he’d seen the whole fiasco from upstairs and promptly went to retrieve a set list from backstage for me. Yay. And from the bass tech, no less, so I’m going to fawn over potentially having Moakes’ handwriting sitting on my desk. I honestly don’t care that it’s from the 5th in Brisbane rather than the 7th in Auckland. Nor do I know where this bass-player-fangirl-dom has come from, because as I’ve always said, bass players don’t typically tick any boxes for me… because I am one. I shall keep collecting “what stories are made of” experiences.

Here are two photos I took at the Met in New York. Both taken on Ilford HP5 Plus 400 B/W film; Nikon F3:

departure: feels like i cannot kiss you hard enough, not even if i bore right through you

I’ve done it again. I have started to call it my “spontaneous disappearing act” and I think it’s rather suitable. Just a little over two years ago, I dashed off to LA and San Francisco on a whim to see my sister and travel alone – and five days ago I pretty much bought the exact same flight deal. In two sleeps’ time I will be leaving for two weeks… after my third sleep (if I actually fall asleep on the plane) I will be in LA and in the middle I’ll be spending a week in New York City!!! I’ve aaaaalllwaaaaays wanted to go to NYC, but I’d never actually planned what I would do there because the thought of only fantasising about it was too painful. So now I’ve got to throw some ideas together pretty quickly. I’m sad that Aaron Parks is playing a night or two before I arrive in NYC, but I’ve got a handful of other people I want to see while I’m there, so hopefully it all happens! I will also be taking a LOT of film with me because I figure I would never regret bringing too much, but will definitely struggle if I feel like I am running out.

The trouble with spontaneously ditching one’s life for two weeks is that suddenly everything needs to be rescheduled or cancelled. I’m losing a nice chunk of pay from the time I’m gone and will be spending thrice that, so I had better spend wisely. Especially with Australia on the cards for Jan-Feb. Gah. But I strongly believe that travelling is one thing from which you will gain more than you spent. Anyone else with a case of wanderlust will more than agree, I’m certain. For those who are skeptical or hesitant about travelling alone, I think people just need to get over the “I need a buddy” mindset and try it out. It can be daunting, for sure, but I’ve met some really amazing people, been invited along to things and experienced so much that I swear I wouldn’t have stumbled across had I been with even one other person. However, in saying that, I’m not looking to missing the boy for two weeks. Of course I’ll still have an amazing time without him, but then I think, damn, who’s going to be my perfect person in all my photos; who will take a nice picture of me with something I want, rather than slap me in smack bang in front of it like other people do; who will hold my coat when I put my coat on; mostly importantly, who will hold my hand?!!! I guess the answer will be that no one will, and I will remember how I made do without him for all those years and travels prior, but I really wished that he was coming with me instead of writing his honours dissertation. I suppose he’ll at least get two weeks’  of decent work done without me distracting him, which means more adventures here when I get back.

As if to make me miss him even more, the lovely, lovely thing surprised me with a bouquet of flowers today:

 

 I’m kind of sad because I won’t get to see them for long since I leave so soon, but I like letting flowers dry out, so I will preserve them that way. We’d run out of vases since it’s spring, so I had to beautify an old gherkin jar, haha.

Just thought I should casually mention that the reason I’ve not been blogging is because I’ve been too busy: passing out at Radiohead, moshing to The Black Keys, shooting Sal Valentine & The Babyshakes and pining over Baths‘ sweet, sweet lyrics in person. I think the latter was quite suitable for this post, don’t you? Hopefully I’ll eventually address these distressing and heart-wrenching experiences, but for now I get to see my sister reaaaal soon and I will try try TRY to blog from LA/NYC!!!

premise to interlude…

Another week, and two all-nighters later, I am three out of five essays down. I cannot wait until November 10th which will be the first day of my summer holiday! So this is the plan, I’ll state it publicly now and hopefully I will actually follow through. Because I am such a messy person, of course my room (especially my desk!) is once again just… a wreck, basically. Frankly, I can’t study or concentrate when it’s so messy because I can’t feel like I’m sitting down to do something “proper”, so once I hit “publish”, I will get up and tidy. Ready for the rest of this week, which I’m sure will be very, very long.

It seems I’m not the only person that needs a tidy environment to study or be productive in. But the problem is, often “tidying” because a form of procrastination itself. Thus, without any plans to do further studies or practise tonight, I am just going to tidy then hit the hay. Yes, I will… Does anyone have any tips on how to keep a desk/room tidy? Because I mess it up so quickly, it only takes sitting down at the desk and voila! There’s teacups, drink bottles, tissues, pens,  eeeeverywhere. Surely there’s got to be a more efficient way to go about being a student than this!

Also, these are some more photos from the last roll of film I posted. I’ve left out all the boring group shots and just left in what I thought were nice or amusing. It’s always such a surprise when I get films developed from my point-and-shoot because I don’t think about what I’m doing, unlike when I shoot with a film SLR. That’s when I have a certain level of anticipation and expectations, which is not always a good thing. These photo are from exactly four months ago. All on Kodak UltraMax 400 film, some of my 21st birthday party aftermath follows:

P.S. I jumped the gun a bit and bought us tickets to Crystal Castle’s Auckland show as well. It’s a super early present of some description but oh well. In conjunction with the other shows I mentioned last week, January is shaping up to be SERIOUS PARTY TIME.

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