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

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

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.

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

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.


Here’s something I wrote the other night:

Chances are found
In the alleyways of life
A little dark
A little scary
and you caught me,
Unwary.

Romances are lost
In the altered scales of life
A distant remark
A false guarantee
and you caught me,
Unwary.

/// /// /// // // /// ///////

Your hand in a tired curl
I hate when it loosens
As you disappear
As I stare
And I stare

(While you disappear)

 

I can’t hold my breath so long, When you pass me by without a sound. You got something more to give, To girls who never thought they’d love, Love

I’m trying to pick out five photos for a photo exhibition and I’m finding it absolutely impossible! In the meantime, I stumbled upon these photos whilst trawling through my folders and folders full of photos. This is how us sisters roll.

How to devour a cupcake (from Disneyland):



Whilst I’m at it, here’s another one.

How to be a good girlfriend:
1. Accompany your boy to his friend’s birthday party. Dress well, so that you complement one another. And look good. Very good.
2. Proceed to drink as much beer as socially acceptable in terms of sobriety and number of allocated bathroom trips – after all, he’s sacrificed himself as sober driver so someone can drink!
3. The next morning, cook him a wholesome breakfast.
4. Be awesome and be genuinely interested in sports – not merely fake it.
5. Drive him to his football match. Be even more awesome and date someone with a decent shirt number. In this case, his #7 is much easier to spot and understand, as opposed to my #33.
6. Be a good spectator and always know what’s going on. It also helps to play the same position (perhaps in a similar sport) so as to understand the lines he runs and calls he makes. This also helps with being empathetic over frustrations. Maybe so empathetic that you’re the one wanting to yell “STRAIGHT/LEFT/LINE!” more than he does.
7. Be an even better spectator and throw him a water bottle whenever he looks like he needs it. Be careful to avoid getting whacked on the head with it as it comes flying back to you at an awkward angle with the sun in your eyes.
8. In the instance that he shall then misplace his wallet (apparently down the side of your car seat), lend him money at the postal office. Even if it means the eftpos machine at the post office hates your card and rejects it, forcing you to employ the use of an ATM machine on the other side of the mall.
9. Drive him back to yours and provide a dinner of tacos and beer.

See, I never knew I was such a nice person. I usually get annoyed and angry at myself, for being annoyed and angry with other people; but it turns out that I’m not always such a bitter person. Although I might have to admit that finally being done with the first half of semester one may have had something to do with my elated mood yesterday, because now it’s rather worn off and I just want to groan and sigh at the pile of stuff I have to deal with in the 2-week Easter break.

I only had my point and shoot lazily in my pocket, so this photo isn’t anywhere near as exciting as the boy’s dad’s epic action shots, but this was yesterday for me:

And today… has been a different story altogether. I found some more photos of things I had immortalised, so maybe I’ll post them later. For now I’m just going to wallow in self-(something) and try to pick out a series of photos to exhibit.

Is it the way she looks at you? Seeing her face as you walk through the crowded avenue, That sets you afire

It’s Sunday now, and I haven’t slept in my own bed since Wednesday, thus it’s now piled with clothes, books and folders. In a monumental headache-related fuck up yesterday, I accidentally fell asleep after my hockey game, which resulted in getting nothing on my “Saturday To-Do’s” list done; I eventually did a fair bit of jazz theory at the boy’s house, which is a strike of today’s list instead, but catching up on this huge list is just a nightmare right now… In the meantime, I’ve rekindled my love for the album Primary Colours by The Horrors. I haven’t listened to it in a fair while now, and I’m just remember how much I enjoyed their noise, bass sounds and lyrics.

It’s funny because at jazz school, asides from some of the tutors, no one else seems to participate in any form of sports or physical activity beyond the fitness that we need to strenuously play music for hours on end. On Thursday evening, I was engaged in a lengthy conversation with the head of jazz about windsurfing and various other water sports that he does. And I’ve had many conversations with my old bass teacher about the diving and spear fishing he’s into, but really, no one else is into anything physical. It’s funny to me that in a discussion in the common room on Friday, none of the other jazz students could get their head around the idea of how I’m excited to get back into winter hockey again this season, because I’ve missed the stress relief it brings me. Plus the fact that it allows me to directly exert some physical aggression that might be building up due to stress… and the fact that I’m a bit of an intolerant, grumpy person to begin with anyway.

See, despite all my terrible living, sleeping and eating (the latter is improving though) habits, I’ve been rather missing the feeling of being physically capable, fit and toned. In other words, I really miss the feeling of being able to walk and walk and walk, run and run and run, and carry a load of heavy stuff without feeling like collapsing. I also miss how flexible I used to be. Gone are the days of doing splits and grand battement in ballet!

My point is, surely I’m not the only one who used to be and misses being much more physically active as a kid, running around playing sports every lunchtime and then playing more sports after school? As if to rub salt in the wound, lots of people I know could care less what they eat/drink/do, but still have “better figures” by definition of being slim. And boys! Think about how many boys you know that can eat four times as much as you and still complain about how they aren’t putting on weight. If only females had that luxury… especially as we are the ones who are more likely to have bad food cravings anyway.

On the topic of indulgence, here are two cakes that mum’s friend paid her to make for her daughter’s 1st birthday yesterday. I helped the the icing. An absolute nightmare:


Why must chocolate frosting taste sooo good? There’s a bit left over and all I want to do is eat it by the spoonful!

This is what happens when you sleep on me. You get photographed. Applicable to humans also, but in this case, darling kitty.

Isn’t he just such a sweet sweet?

I really want to fast forward into this time in 6 days because by then I will have done my three-assessments-in-a-row and will be enjoying my 2-week Easter break. It also means I get to finish off a the films I’ve started in three separate cameras, get them developed (ouch, expensive!) and see what the heck is on them.

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