I’ve been feeling increasingly down, frustrated stressed out as of late, and in general I don’t have all that much to say right now. The only thing which has occurred that might have some long-term bearing on my life is that I’m already officially accepted into the LLB/BA conjoint degrees at university next year based on my UCAS points. Music and Bmus/BA, however, still says “Pending”… we shall see how that develops after I actually send in my music application, I suppose.

The other day during last period study class, I was much too tired to attempt any more writing and sat around daydreaming instead. I was thinking that I really don’t like the feeling I get when I get asked if my hair is naturally curly. At this point I should explain that my hair is naturally quite wavy – though not enough to be curly, and too much of a mess to be anywhere near straight, so about a year ago I got talked into getting a perm; which has surprisingly lasted a whole year until about now. In other words, I decided that being in-between sucked so chose to incline towards something which I thought looked better than the other (I look awful with proper, straight hair).  But being asked such a question makes me feel somewhat like a fraud. Frankly, I observe other people’s roots for answers, instead of asking them “oh, is your hair actually naturally blonde?” – surely not! It would be social suicide in the land of females, so I’m not quite acquainted with why it’s okay for me to be confronted with “oh I thought so, that it wasn’t naturally that curly”: as if I was fake by further extents than those evidently-bleached-platinum-blondes with skin several shades of unkempt and uneven orange, their lips dripping with gloss.

That said, I don’t have any problem with people dying their hair blonde – except asians, really. Now that is just not meant to be. Gross.

I’m not sure exactly what happened to my blog in the week/ends that I was away in Rotorua, but somehow it has nicely resurrected itself upon my return. A blow-by-blow (sorry, couldn’t resist, I copped too many hits to the hand, arms and legs with endless blood and skin loss to not use that term) account of tournament is just far beyond me right now, and to be frank, coming 14th isn’t too exciting. Although, I’m proud to say we only lost to the team who won the Marie Fry cup by 3-1.

The first set of photos are from the Friday night before I left – Angie and I went with our geeky boys to see District 9 – and I have to admit, after having seen the first 20minutes at a friends house on a pirated file, I couldn’t take the first half of the movie seriously. But then it got darker, deeper, and I was almost reduced to curling in my seat. The real fun only began when most of us parted ways, but Freddy, William, Joel and I were adamant that we weren’t going to return home without getting up so some form of shenanigans. It started off with us lying in the middle of Joel’s street. I was determined to get a photo of it, so we acquired William’s camera and ended up heading for a stroll along the beach. The huge downer was that his camera was desperately lacking in battery power, so all the shots we came up with were pretty funny since no one knew what was going to show up until the photo had been taken, nor did the shutter go off when we wanted it to.

The one on the right shows me wincing in surprise as Joel suddenly sat down when the flash went off; and the bottom left, according to Michael, looks like an album cover. I’ll salute to that.

I’ve included a couple of pics from tournament – my warpaint from our last game, luge lifts; and Concert Band National/North Island Festival – our school got 6 straight gold awards! And dammit, the far bottom right picture ended up being the wrong one… in my haste I mis-compiled it… it was meant to be a far, far funnier one. Oops.