Source of fantasy, escape and knowledge for the mind, heart and soul.

But I’d love to see you before I leave, I leave next weekend, I’m not ready to go

Knowing that I’m a sleep-wrecking advocate of “trying to do it all”, my sister sent me some lecture notes from her religion class about how we simply can’t “do it all.” Whilst I haven’t gotten around to reading the lectures themselves (I think I can be forgiven, some days I have uni from 11am-6pm with virtually no break!), the email with her views on it have been really interesting. So I’ll rephrase — I’ll try to do everything I can. Good news is, I did make it back into the Division 1 hockey team after all, despite panicking about how badly I had trialled on the first day; I must have made up in round two.

Anyone who knows the boy and I quite well would know that we’re not advocates of marriage. I don’t even believe in little things working out, I’m such a bloody pessimist. Being the lofty thrill-seeking person I am, it’s surely no surprise that I always question the doctrine of monogamy. Without going on a huge tangent, I’ll clarify that I’m not about to ever be a swinger, and I simply couldn’t deal the jealousy and uncertainty of being in a “relationship” that isn’t monogamous. But I often encounter existential issues like “what’s the point?”, or my strong belief that I can’t be with someone unless, for its duration, I believe that I’ll always be with them, and will always want to be. Regardless of if that actually plays out in reality, I feel like, if that’s not how you feel when you’re together, then WHY would you bother being “together”?!

Some time in 2012 I devised a test for “how I may one day use to gauge whether or not I will accept someone’s proposal for marriage” — this is, assuming that anyone would ever be crazy/stupid/brave enough to stick their neck out for slaughter like that. The test is, I’d ask myself whether I would be willing to get a tattoo related to the person. It doesn’t have to be their name or anything, just, something sentimentally, symbolically, intimately related to them. Everyone knows that it’s a dumb idea to get a lover’s tattoo (sorry for the grand generalisation, though I’m not sorry if anyone actually thinks it’s a great idea), but regardless of if I’d ever follow through with something so stupid, I think if I could ever answer that test in the affirmative, then it would be pretty telling. There is so much more on how I feel about all this that I haven’t breached, but I’m looking forward to chucking my casebooks and real book on the floor, and climbing into bed with a book called Sex at Dawn. Before anyone jumps to any conclusions, it’s a New York bestselling anthropological book with the subtitle that reads “How we mate, why we stray and what it means for modern relationships.”  I think the key point to be extracted from praise on the back cover is “that humans evolved to be monogamous” — a topic I’m clearly fascinated by. It seems messed up that I’ve talked about these things for years but this book actually belongs to the boy and he read it sometime recently and has since shoved it under my nose. Let’s ignore the fact that I’m three quarters through Malcolm Gladwell’s What the Dog Saw and the infamous American Psycho. Those can surely wait, whilst I uncover the thread of how modern human relationships came to be, right?

Here is Master Flakey, cute as ever, always managing to find a spot of comfort in the mess of a life I lead. I’m going to miss him so soo sooooo much when I move out soon.

to live like common people, I never think I’ll do

The list of ever-looming deadlines I have are looking gloomier by the day. It’s amazing how many things I find myself doing instead of writings essays and doing my jazz research dissertation. It’s not that I’m “wasting time” per se, when I procrastinate, I am genuinely doing and reading things I find interesting – they just aren’t the things that I must do. Right now. I was saying to a friend yesterday that “assignments are like screaming children. You like to hope they’ll go away if you just leave them, but you know they MUST be dealt with”. When I shared this analogy with the boy, he added something that I think is pure gold: “and like your children, everyone is totally disinterested in hearing you talk about them”. Touche.

The Raveonette’s new album, Observator, is now streaming here (aka it has leaked anyway), and will be officially released in a handful of days. I urge anyone who has ever enjoyed my playlists or music I’ve posted to go and check them out. Reading Sune Rose Wagner’s backstory of how the album was conceived (you can find it here) has given me a deeper perspective on the album as a whole. I know that some people don’t like to find out what songs and albums are about or were inspired by, because they feel it “taints” their interpretations of it; but having already repeated the album to death last night, I definitely wasn’t at any risk of having my initial experience influenced. It’s fantastic. Really fantastic. It’s what I love them for – sincerity, noisy guitar, what some have labelled a “dream pop” sound, and relatable lyrics. Also, for this album they’ve brought in the piano on a couple of songs which really gives songs like “Observations” a deeper, sombre timbre.

Here are a couple of photos taken a couple of months ago. Anyone who knows me knows that, whilst I love wielding the camera, I rarely volunteer to be in photographs. Even less frequent is the event of me handing my own camera over – so this shows just what a good night I was having. Both taken on Kodak UltraMax 400 film:

When I bent down to pick up my pointe shoes off the floor to hang them up last night, a string of thoughts were triggered and the idea hasn’t left me since. Even though I haven’t done ballet for five or six years now, I leave my pointe shoes hanging on my bedroom door. On that same hook are a couple of really pretty dresses that I just like seeing. It’s an aesthetic thing. But also, I realised last night that I can’t put those shoes away and let them fall into dusty obscurity because I absolutely loved ballet and it was a part of half my life – which is a  decade! Even though at the time I probably came across like I hated it (it was hard work and painful and time-consuming and full of pressures and I had an old teacher that just went nag, nag, nag), I still loved it. I’m not into the more classical stuff, like if I have to ever hear music from the Nutcracker again I will snap, nor could I sit through something like Cinderella, but I love the more contemporary styles. Earlier this year mum and I went to see the Royal NZ Ballet’s performance of “NYC: Three Short Ballets From the Big Apple” and it was one of the best nights I’ve had all year. To drift back on topic – it’s scary how things can be such a big part of your life and suddenly it’s just gone. Whether by choice or not. And no matter how you felt about it at the time or afterwards, you will never be the same person again, because everything that we do in our lives shapes us in some way. Skills we learnt and a practised and polished may be deserted and given up on – but to some level we are a changed person, and we retain those skills and knowledge to some degree.

I was feeling rather down about myself last night, thinking about ballet and all the things I can’t do with my body anymore. Even more poignant were these feelings, since I had a physio appointment yesterday, because I am aching all over as we’ve taken on extra hockey trainings in preparation for this Saturday’s semi-final. But then I thought, hang on, yes there are many things I can’t do anymore, or at least not as well as I used to be able to, but because of all those years of hard work towards different directions and different goals, the me today can probably do a lot of things that normal people can’t do. I really need to make a proper list of things I can do, have done, and then all the things I’ve yet to accomplish, but really want to. The mere idea of compiling this list is daunting though. There’s definitely a reason why, unlike many blogs I read, I don’t have a “Bucket List” or a “101 in 1001” list. I don’t like setting concrete goals because I don’t like failing. My excuse is often, I’ll want different things at different times, and therefore it’s pointless setting myself up for feeling like a failure if I take things off the list because I can’t or don’t want to do them anymore. So after all this, I’m not sure if I will make a list or not. But I’ll definitely make a list of things I’ve managed to do already. Like a reverse-motivation thing: if I have already done this, then surely I can do that too.


won’t you be my dictionary, won’t you translate fun into something necessary – inter uni sun. won’t you be my dictionary, can’t I be very necessary?

Trying to be realistic about time management is not going well at the moment. I’m trying to do my readings but all I’d rather do is blog. I have a couple of ideas and tangents I’ve been wanting to blog about for quite some time, but I just don’t have the time to do it right now, because it needs effort in order to sound coherent. It’s about the idea of “average”. But I shan’t dwell on it now.

This week’s felt so long and it’s only Tuesday night – how will I make it to Friday? And next Friday? Well that’s three tests, two assignments and a recital’s time away. Prioritising uni work is something I’ve never been good at, so I’m still attempting to make it work out. How is one supposed to resist the pull of the internet and self expression at large? The other night instead of sleeping I started writing and writing poetry, until I fell asleep with it in my hands. Then I continued to write later that day, between classes; observations, theories I’ve been wondering about, ideas, more ideas. And all the while I felt guilty because I wasn’t writing something more academic instead. So what have I done since? I left my special writing-notebook at home. It’s like self torture!

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

I also have a huuge urge to take more rolls of black and white film, of undisclosed subjects, but I’ve still got about ten exposures left in my camera on a roll of colour reversal film, argh. I’ve got other film slr’s that I can use, but I’m very attached to my Nikon and the Contax RTS is a hefty mean machine that needs lots of batteries for some reason. Also, posting this photo finally makes me want to write about all of our December/January travels overseas – but now that I finally feel ready to do it, I don’t have time! It will be Easter break by next Friday though, so hopefully the written journey will begin there. Until then… I guess I shan’t really get to quench my thirst of multi-dimensional self expression, since I am trying for the first time in my life to achieve very specific grades. Grades. I hate that. I’ve never tried before. What happens if I psych myself out? Wish me luck.

Something I read on Julia’s blog that rang too true for me:

“Being unnoticed, and being watched,
both frighten me.”

Pt 1: And it’s been a week too long, there were several things that I’ve been doing wrong. You see the time it takes for you, Is the time it takes for me

We’ve just had two long weekends in a row here in New Zealand – first it was Auckland Anniversary Weekend, during which we went to the Laneway festival (which I shall eventually get around to posting about, gah!), followed by this past Monday, which was Waitangi Day. Naturally, I’ve been trying to fit in as much fun as these last few weeks of summer holidays will offer me. I can’t lie, I’m not looking forward to university this year at all. Moreso than the average uni student, that is – because I’ve bitten off a lot for this year, and it will definitely be some kind of mental struggle with myself to stay on top of things right from the get go. Of course, next year will be much worse… but for now, let’s try and conquer 2012 first, right?

The boy and I were discussing personal goals we have for this year. That is, goals that are not academically related, and are, I suppose, meant to be more far-reaching into our lives and future in general. The only one he’s come up with at the moment is to read more – which is also one of mine, but to be honest it’s rather intimidating because he already reads far more than I do, especially since he doesn’t have as many time-consuming side-things like I do. Such as this blog. Anyway, obviously reading is something that I think is supremely important, but besides that, another one of my goals was to take this blog more seriously. Which isn’t going very well at the moment because real-life is first priority, but I intend on going back on things and definitely making posts on all the travels we did, and the other things I feel worthy of sharing and writing about in general.

So, onto the good stuff. I thought, screw writing about something from last month or last week, this is what I did this past weekend – we went and saw Dan Deacon play at Whammy Bar. Not my favourite venue, but we were pleasantly surprised at how well the venue actually worked out for Dan Deacon’s show, and the crowd plus the way he interacted with it was just amazing. Definitely one of the best and most fun shows that I’ve ever been to. I met the boy in town after he got off work and we had hours and hours before the concert started, so we just absolutely winged the evening and it was great. I’d wanted to shoot on film, so I ended up bringing our family’s old film point-and-shoot and carried it like a handbag slung over one shoulder. These are all the photos that we took that night, none were omitted. Each and every one of them are gems to me and truly reflect how we chose to spend and enjoy our evening as the sun finally fell and our alcohol purchases hiked in price. I’m no expert on such topics, but it’s during all these moments shown below and the infinite amount of undocumented ones that I finally seem to grasp the idea of being in a “relationship”. And all those fights and tears and past grudges and pride and all that shit just melts away and for a moment – or a touch longer, if you’re lucky to not be me – pure, untainted clarity presents itself and you can almost kid yourself that this is it, this is why I’m alive, I am so fucking loved. All you can see is your better half, their eyes, their gaze, whether reading your soul in that very moment as you are theirs, or even just glancing at the bottom of their pint, oblivious to your epiphany – everything just seems right, just feels meant to be: perfect. Or at least, as close to perfection as this world will ever deal you, and as “perfect” as you’d ever dare to ask for, really. And if not for these moments of utter happiness and raw, raw love, then why do we bother with anything?

And so, here is the happiest that a fat man has ever made us. I will definitely post a playlist including Dan Deacon soon!

The boy showing me where he sometimes eats his lunch at work. Like a bunny in headlights, he said.

Where we devoured a plate of wedges coated in cheese, bacon and a thick helping of sour cream. Delicious.

Knocking back a decent beer. Prime example of what close-range flash with an old film point-and-shoot camera does.

One of my favourite photos of myself. He should be proud of himself.

The feijoa cider was sold out but we found out that the Wine Cellar also does a yummy feijoa (and other flavoured) liqueur. For $25 we bought a whole bottle and mixed it with soda water and ice ourselves.


Dan Deacon setting up.

And starting up.

Then all hell broke loose.

He instructed that a circle was to be formed, which definitely resembled a circle of death, but luckily he also had quirky on instructions as to how to get the whole room dancing.

We were greeted with this after our return from the bathroom. It looks like they’re praying, does it not?

The boy’s proudest achievement of the evening (other than going home with me of course… ahem).

Knackered. He bought me a frozen coke from McD’s and my shirt stunk like everybody else’s sweat. We sat in the lobby of his workplace for a bit and I waited for him to go upstairs to fetch his stuff.

Now it’s off to bed to continue reading Game of Thrones. Need to finish it so the boy can borrow it, ha.

Just set aside your fears of life, with the sole desire

I don’t know where my mind is. At all. In the past two weeks of freedom, I have started three draft blog posts (none of which saw the light of day), finished reading Atlas Shrugged, Less Than Zero and Snuff, and painted my new-2nd-hand dressing table which I bought off a friend last month. So here are the photos that have been requested both irl, via txt, email and twitter. It was a 2-day effort, especially since I only started painting it late in the afternoon of both days. And although it wasn’t what I had in mind to start with (I’d initially intended to do crackled gold over the top… but that didn’t work out at all), I think it looks pretty alright. I must say, the final product looks much better in person. Especially since I took those pictures at like 2am when I was finally, exhausted, but delighted to be done with painting textured gold:

Post-exam/assessments state = mess mess mess!

Green base

Using gold powder which is apparently older than I am, rather than the gold acrylics I had intended on using… because it turned out a shit shade (literally) when painted on. This caused a huge detour in repainting the top and a drawer, and general mayhem.

Flakeypie sleeping on my clothes as I paint.

Finished product. It looks funny with flash, but otherwise the gold doesn’t show up. It’s a lot softer looking in person. Eck, anyway. Not amazing, but better than boring cream.

I think I’ve just been really quiet on this blog ever since I’ve been on holiday because I’ve been having trouble with figuring out where I am. Existential problems of a twenty year old. If I don’t change my mind between now and clicking Publish, I will get up and rip a few things off my bedroom walls. November’s a new month. It’s not clogged by university stress or deadlines or pressure to catch a certain ferry in the morning… Summer’s a new season. I need to get onto this wave of “newness” and ride it out for as long as I can – as far as I can. Away from this current spot. This mindset.

I just feel like decisions are harder to make everyday, every year, because the older you get, but more important these decisions tend to be. Back at age 16, whether or not I wanted a summer job, or which jobs I might like to apply for only affected how many movies and concerts I could go to. This very day, a year ago, I had landed at LAX with a bag and plans full of a lot of nothing, and a mind full things I wanted to dump and acquire. Those twenty days changed me a lot. But having said that, I’m changing a lot, all the time. Although my whole life, I’ve always been the kind of person that “changes a lot” and constantly feel like I am, or must be, in a state of motion. A state of momentum, be it pulling me forwards or often times, even backwards… but I always had to be moving… changing. And so right now, when I find myself so idle – right at the end of a period of great motion and turmoil, and on the brink of another such period… what do I do? I want the next twenty days to count – as much as those same twenty days had counted for me, last year. As if not so much, at least, I want them to have meant something. I don’t the next three, four months of summer to turn into a dull, smooth blur, like what the sea appears to be, whilst a dangerously powerful rip lurks beneath the surface. Because that’s what I’m like.

The periods where I am just “alright” are possibly a million times worse than those periods where I experience the whole range of emotional extremes. I’ve contemplated getting medicated as a trial, maybe for a couple of weeks, now that grades and creativity aren’t things I HAVE TO be stressed about… but at the same time I also think that that would be copping out. That it would ruin the past year and a half of resumed talk-therapy and trying really hard to set right the bad mold I’ve been pressed into. Most of all, I think the biggest thing I need to overcome is this need to apologise for everything – to apologise for the way I am, and the things I do, and how I do them. And having to feel like I have to earn things. That I have to earn people’s love, attention, and earn the feeling of deserving any good thing that ever happens to me. This is a messed up topic, most especially because I haven’t put any of this into context, I know, but that would require like an entire autobiography of the past fifteen years, and this blog might explode, ha. But hmm. I can’t believe I just typed all that and not deleted it all. Fuck it. I’m sick of having to censor out the bad things because I don’t want to get too personal, or because I still struggle with anonymity and privacy issues. I’ll share what I want to share.

Anyway, the point is – I’m going to – I’ve got to keep reading like I’ve been doing this week, keep attempting to write, keep clicking the shutter… and heal my hands so that I can play the bass. I had a bit of a dumb accident with my left thumb last night and I feel like I’ve either lightly sprained it, or at least really pissed off a ligament or something, because it hurts like a bitch, and I can feel pain even when I’m not moving it. And then when cutting my nails just before, my right index nail split from the flesh way too deeply and it stings stings stings! So there goes my pivoting finger (left thumb, on the double bass), and one of my playing fingers (right index). Great. So much for working on my chops.

In 14 hours the boy will be exiting his last exam of the year and I can’t wait. Following that we have dinner plans, and we are also going to the cinema together for the first time ever. This has been the source of much heated conversation though. I used to think it was awesome because we’re such an interesting couple that we don’t have to resort to cliche coupley activities. Eye roll. But other factors came in and I got angry and what do you know, I blew the lid off things, as usual. Nonetheless, it will be great and then three sleeps from now we will be seeing Portishead together and I shall cry in public out of sheer happiness and the plan of making these twenty days count will totally be working out. Yup, that’s the plan. Playlist to come! Happy posts to come!

In the meantime, here’s a recent live video of a beautiful, tear-drawing song by Portishead – one of my favourites – and I’m quite positive that it will be played on Thursday night because I’ve been stalking their tour set lists online, and it’s been a staple. Oh god. How will I remain upright when I experience them for myself…

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