It’s the Milgram device all over again

Photo taken by sister, as per my instructions, in Sydney.

It’s 1.30pm and I am still in bed with a cold. Cancelled musical plans for today, because I don’t want to be coughing and spluttering, blowing my nose every two seconds, and spreading it to other people.

Firstly – irony: Since the Netherlands defeat in the WC final, New Zealand is the only unbeaten team in the World Cup.

There is something about Facebook that pisses me off the most. No, it’s not something integral in Facebook itself, but moreso, something that people do on Facebook. I hardly ever sign onto Facebook – in fact usually it takes an email prompt telling me someone has sent me a message or invitation, and then I click on the link, check it out, and exit. But on the rare occasion, out of boredom or curiosity that I linger on the homepage of it, I am thoroughly reminded of why I vow to never do so again until the next spout of craaazy insomnia or whatever. I just don’t understand why some people feel the urge to sit on Facebook ALL DAY and “like” everyone’s statuses and comments, nor why they are on Facebook commenting people back and forth when I know for a fact that they are already either txting or IMing each other (or worse, both).

Some girls that I see out and about in town, at the pub, clubs, etc… what are they doing? Being annoying brats and taking photos (with such bad skill it really makes my head ache) with blinding use of flash whilst everyone else it just trying to have a good time… in semi-darkness. Don’t get me wrong, I love taking pictures, especially when I’m having a great time at something – but some people take it waaay too far, taking waaay too many pictures with the same people, in every possible pose, and it just gets ANNOYING. Especially on the odd occasion I’m going somewhere without a doorlist, requiring me to stand in queue for godknowshowlong next to snap-flashing girls. Urghhh. What’s even worse than withstanding them toppling over now and then – because, you know, trying to piggyback each other whilst in short dresses in a queue thus showing off most of your bra and cellulite is very attractive – and then flashing flahsing, FLASHING, is what happens the next morning… these pictures are then splashed aaaaaaaaaaallll over Facebook, with the people in it all tagged, who then start commenting on each picture. “Oh I remember that, I was soooo wasted”, “I don’t remember that, take that off, I look awful”, “And then this and that and this and that happened before/after this photo”, etc etc. It just gets me so bored and put off, and deters me from Facebook.

Then, there’s the type of people, who (yes, I know for a fact) are in the same room as each other, all on their separate computers, logged onto Facebok, commenting back and forth with each other – WHY?! WHYYYYYY, WHYYYYYYY?!?!!??!!!!

Whatever happened to using Facebook (and other social devices on the internet) as a means of interacting with people that you don’t really get a chance to interact with in real life? At least, that’s what I use Facebook for. If I can easily reach someone via a quick txt message or by merely turning around to face them to converse – why would I want to, oh, open Facebook, log in, find the correct person’s page, then … etc…

Now I just sound like a raging, raving looney; but I’ve wanted to have a rant about that for ages. Plus, I’m still in bed… with a rather large (and growing) pile of used tissues. Gross. Semester starts next Monday, I want to be better!

Off topic, but the title is a lyric which refers to the Milgram Experiment. That stuff (and subsequent related links) gets you thinking…

Jack Kerouac

Stoplights are swaying and the phone lines are down

My absence has been due to over a week spent in Sydney, Australia – which followed a 5-day/nights’ series of events, which were all blurred into a very long, extended lump in my memory – and I’m not too sure how I feel right now. Until I can conjure up the effort to sort through hundreds of photos and thoughts, I’m not going to write about where I went, etc.

Families are supposed to be the comfort zone. The people who’ve known you your whole life, know all your embarrassing childhood stories, who care for one another the most. At least, that is the family that I was brought up under the illusion of, despite having been disillusioned over a decade ago about its idealistic ways vs reality.

Unfortunately, over the past week in Sydney, my (immediate) family – who usually live in different countries – have been crammed into one single hotel room. It was large, yes – the size of half our house, but a single space nonetheless; and all the things we usually pretend is all okay could no longer be contained. My parents aren’t getting along. They haven’t for a long time. But under the facade of not living under the same roof for majority of the year, everything is “okay”. In the middle are me and my sister. Whilst she still has to put up with the same problems, same fights and outbursts as I do, she doesn’t have the older-child syndrome of taking on all these problems as my own. I don’t want to take sides. I have two sets of opinions and views on these problems, and how I think they should be dealt with: one, being the daughter, I want them to work through things, slowly, fine, but surely, and just at least do something productive or argue productively rather than stupidly about anything, everything and absolutely nothing at all; and two, being from a completely objective point of view – get it all over and done with, if it’s so painful to coexist.

I shouldn’t be saying this.

In the most selfish manner, also, I have so much else on my plate that I am stressing over, but the whole family thing is an overbearing darkness and source of stress, pain, guilt, troubles, internal and external conflicts that I can’t conjure up the strength to deal with anything else. It also doesn’t help that I’ve been sick for a week and a half, and it’s only draining me more, physically.

I know people out there go through much worst than me – in fact I have close friends that have, let alone all the people whom I don’t know. But it feels soo bad I don’t know how people get through it. I guess they develop some coping mechanism to subtract themselves from the equation of their parents’ misery. I can’t seem to. I am so latched onto every bitter/icy/frustrated/angry/defeated/confused/hopeless/unreasonable word that comes out of their mouths, and I catch all the hurt/vengeful/loathing/sad/intolerable look that the other doesn’t.

I can’t sleep. I was already insomniac enough without the jetlag. Skytv’s ceased working sometime over the days that we were away, so there is nothing to brainwash my sleeplessness with either.

My ipod is currently lost somewhere in the pile of luggage in the lounge, next to the couch on which my father is sleeping – so no music to dither away to.

If there was ever such a time I felt I needed sleeping pills the most – I lied. I really need some now.

To take you back when… I know it’s been so long

Tried to have a song-writing, jamming session today but failed miserably. I don’t think that the fact that I was so out of it due to having stayed up well into the morning hours watching the footy helped.

The drawings on Julia’s blog reminded me of a habit I’ve noticed more and more recently – lip biting. I know I’ve always done it, now and then; but lately I’ve been catching myself doing it more often. I’m not sure what it means… I think it happens when I’m thinking, uncertain, weighing things up. Contemplating. Anticipating. Nervous. Why?

I usually have at least one long thread of thought that I ponder on, and debate to myself. Turning it over and over, dwelling on things. But strangely, not today. I feel rather numb and empty and lifeless. Thus probably why so music-less today. As I’d said to him, “I don’t have a single musical cell in me today” :(.

This is the cake I’d decorated for a friend a few weeks ago – eeek at the sloppy edges though!

Bradley you tick all of my boxes… Bradley come tick all of my boxes

This entry will probably turn into a stream of consciousness.

I’m currently sitting on the couch in a holey bathrobe, astounded at the fact that the Argentina – Korea game currently sits at 2-1 just after half time. Wow.

Yesterday was my sister’s 17th birthday. It’s so weird, my 18th last year seems like only yesterday, yet my 17th seems a lightyear away. I had some errands to run so didn’t end up going to the waterfalls with Liv, mum and a family friend – although I got home earlier than they did, and spent a whole hour decorating her cake. This is why I am not, and will never be domesticated.

1 hour + 3 different icings later = the following: (and the last photo is the amazing dinner mum conjured up, mmm)

Whilst mum was busy snapping away the obligatory smiley, flashy birthday-girl photos, I decided to get my lens out and do my usual moody-ness. The cake looks better in colour, but I just wanted her face and candles, not all the hair and clothes and pink and blue. This is the second pink and blue cake I’ve decorated this month. I must remember to post pics of the other one, I was rather proud of it too.

I’ve forgotten what I had wanted say with the blog title from when I was in the shower thinking about it earlier. The title is derived from a song that was stuck in my head (urghh) that I heard live last week. The originalname used was “Malcolm” but I’m reaaally not a fan of that name – it makes me think of “Malcolm in the Middle”, that awful tv show from back in the day, plus it just doesn’t make me think of an attractive man.

Actually… it’s like 1.20am, I’m watching the footy, I can’t form coherent sentences, I will write about whatever it was… later.

If my life is mine, what shouldn’t I do? Everybody just wants to fall in love, everybody just wants to play the lead.

During the last week of semester a conversation I had with a classmate went something like this:
R: Don’t get tooo stressed out, it will all be fine. I mean, heck, I love jazz school.
Me: Asides from the obvious, why do you?
R: Well for one, who the heck else can say “I go to jazz school in a castle”?!
And I guess he’s right.

These photos were taken on Friday night in town with Sinead on our walk back to my car. The photos in black and white were unintentionally nice angles that I found when I took a closer, chilled out look at the surroundings that I’ve had for the past semester. It’s funny how everything that I usually bustle past in a rush to and from classes actually appeared really photogenic to me, on a cold, winters night at 1-2am. Perhaps the combination of the cold night air and the lacking elements of people and time restraints was what made these usually mundane corners pop out to me that night. The first 3 photos are taken just a few metres from the Kenneth Myers Centre (the “castle” that jazz school is located in, photographed below). The second 3 photos are just around the corner where I would usually park my car if for some reason I had shorter classes and decided to drive instead of ferrying. The last 7 are all taken around the same block as well. The odd photo is of the view out of my car and through the rearview mirror; and the sky tower was shot off a reflection.

Isn’t it ironic that most people my age I know agree with me wholeheartedly that Auckland (and NZ in general) is such a beautiful place to live, and yet we cannot wait to leave the minute that we can – most likely when we’ve finished completely our degrees. I kept intending to take photos of the amazing view that I am treated to by my daily to and fro ferry rides, but I never remember to take a camera. Maybe next semester.

Being out 3, 4 nights in a row has really taken a toll on my sleeping habits and overall tiredness. And, although I have officially finished Semester 1 at jazz school, my final assessments didn’t go as well as I would’ve hoped. I know I can’t really blame anyone for anything, but one thing that was beyond my control was the failure of the drummer during a very important song that I had arranged, and had high hopes for. There’s only so much that I can do as a bass player when the drummer doesn’t play in double time as per rehearsed. I’m just upset that it is my mark that will suffer, and most especially when it was the first time that I had nailed an entire structure of a solo without getting completely lost of out this world – let alone the fact that it was without music! I have no idea how I managed to memorise ten tunes over the space of a couple of days, but I know my arse will be kicked into gear next semester, and I will start earlier. One more exam for my Computer Science paper on Tuesday, and then I will really really be on holiday. That is, if the lingering work that’s been prescribed in advance for next semester can qualify as a total holiday. It’s once again times like these that I envy those doing other degrees the true joy of having no work to haunt their minds over semester break.

These last photos are just… well, some shenanigans we got up to. I haven’t really looked at the band photos I took that night.

Surprisingly, I have a kind-of backlog of blog entries I never got around to posting. Maybe I will catch up.

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