Hi From Neptune

Hi me

2011-06-01T09:25:00.002+12:00

I'm glad blogger keeps these sites. I like being able to meet the me of six years ago. (I'm almost completely not her, physically/biologically - we're replaced every seven years). I agree with her, though. I still love my Dad. Duffs Rd is still Paradise. The All Blacks are still... good. :)
I'm writing (read: contemplating and planning to write) a letter to myself as I'll be in ten years... It's a balancing act, I think. Is it? Why?
Anyway. English lecture in 30 minutes: I'd better get ready.
Bye me.

A little, pointless post about my favourite people (I've never met)

2011-04-08T20:01:00.004+12:00

[blog in between]

Super Junior's Yesung (singer, 27)

MBLAQ's Lee Joon (dancer, 22)

Bonjour à Minuit

2009-02-12T00:20:00.003+13:00

It's 12:21, just after midnight. The cat has just pushed through the doorway and is letting all the heat out, silly pretty thing. She'll curl up on my duvet, warmed by the electric blanket below... Ah, how I wish I could snuggle up in all that gorgeous, comfortable softness. But no: I have procrastinated, and now I've an assignment to finish.

I missed this. It might be a little odd, but the classes I most enjoyed were the ones that drove me to pull all-nighters, just to get work finished. I'm thinking of History, with a teacher who would embarrass you in front of the class: a very kind man, but not a patient one when it came to homework. Now, at uni, it's much worse. No talking-to, no negotiation. I can't look studious and abashed and ask for a day's extension - now, I need to maim myself. Rather seriously.

But then, there must be a reason why I always end up doing this. There's procrastination, of course, but that's the symptom: the root cause, I think, is that I enjoy the pressure. I like challenging myself, I like having a goal. I have fond memories of being hunched over the kitchen table at quarter past two in the morning, colouring pencils in hand, putting the finishing touches to a Social Studies cover page. I must have been thirteen, and I can still see Mum's exasperation - but that cover page was wonderful. I was very proud. It's happened quite a few times since. Essays, in particular... Oh, the essays. Mary McDonald. King James I. The Aeneid. Add every speech I ever did at high school: The Sight, Phar Lap, Amnesty International, Hamlet. Countless English exercises. Two magazines, one in History each year. One of those I'm sure I was still sticking together at my seat in class the next day. Ah, and Biology assignments: my poster on... What was it? DNA? The crab experiment, as well.

This is very stupid, I her you say. It is. It won't work for uni, either: even I'm not silly enough to think I can get a degree with work done at the last moment.

That said, there's something wonderful about sitting before a half-filled screen in the early hours of the morning, delving deep into the transient quality of thought as it relates to different forms of media, or the political successes of English monarchs between 1558 and 1640. It's especially good when you've just discovered the French version of your favourite Disney movie, and are listening to the prologue of La Belle et la Bête.

Wonderful.

[ Side note: la bête est féminin ? Toujours 'une' bête ? C'est étrange. I wonder what the etymology is there... ]

100th Post!

2008-12-22T11:53:00.002+13:00

Well this is... good.

Blogger finally let m back in - it involved simply deleting every single cookie on the computer.

Damnit, I've been trying for weeks and now I'm here, there's nothing to say. Let's take this as a learning experience. :P

National Novel Writing Month

2008-11-03T09:43:00.002+13:00

NaNoWriMo

My sister took part in this last year (with great success!) and as she's busy with exams this year managed to talk me into it. So, I write - without any plan, characters, or plot points. I was a blank slate as this began, in that wonderfully receptive but outwardly oafish phase that made me look like an idiot in English class. This is the day on which you ask me no questions, Mr Wallace!

I'm simply writing, enjoying the act of creation and exploring the ideas that bounce around inside my head. I'm also trying not to think too much about Jess when she did this: I remember her excitement, her passion for it. She's a writer, most definitely. I've just trusting that some the strength of the countless books I've read has rubbed off on me! So far, I've discerned some of Karen Armstrong's History of God, quite a bit of Robert Jordan, and maybe a tiny piece of Victor Hugo's Notre Dame. Smidgens of The Jackal of Nar?

So, other than that wonderfully varied masterpiece-in-the-making, this last week has been an attempt to find some shape (having gladly eaten two months' worth of traditional English food when overseas), get a job (fingers crossed!) and make the final arrangements for funding my studies next year. Oh joyous lists.

Does it need saying that this entry is an attempt to procrastinate? A very successful one, too. :-D Might go do that some more.

Dialogue and a church

2008-10-27T21:29:00.002+13:00

Hi!

I walked to Port today, to lie on the cold stone beside the church and think about all we've made, all we see, all there is to appreciate (was feeling rather metaphysical): it was a return to the feeling of belonging, of being a part of something bigger than myself. I felt as if I could feel the nobility of life again, something simple and beautiful, like the sunlight. How can anything else be so perfect? Ah, Francis Cabrel... "Et si on dormait sous les arbres le reste du temps." He's wonderful!

But this entry is more to do with what I was considering on the way home - I need a (less pretentious word than 'elucidation')... an unravelling of the influences flying around inside my head.

During my time in England, I worked for one week as a charity fundraiser. We spoke to people on the street, spending most of our time in the town centre. It's a job which involves many of the things I dread most: staying in town all day, endlessly surrounded by concrete and crowds; the intimidating act of approaching strangers, catching them as they push past, unheeding; asking someone to stop what they're doing on the basis that what you have to say is more important. Despite the unquestionable logic of this when it comes to charity, I still found it very difficult to get my head around.

In the weeks following my time with Dialogue, the reasons why I couldn't continue always came down to the essential clash between what the job required and the way I am. I prefer to listen to someone, not speak myself - especially with strangers. I like to hear what people are thinking, and to watch them, to think myself: not present what felt relentlessly like an imposition. I know, I know that raising the profile of the Red Cross is worthwhile. The members of the team that took me were some of the most amazing people I've ever met, and I feel honoured to have known them. But what it came down to, I thought, was that I had been counting on my passion for the charity to overcome my instinctive shyness - and it couldn't.

Today thought, I realised that my failure had more to do with the awkwardness I felt. Besides being unable to hide it on the street, I made the far greater mistake of allowing it to overshadow my relationships with my teammates. Our leader was an Australian girl called Sandy, a person who was a constant example of how moving and powerful genuine kindness can be. She made your soul light up.

Ah, this explanation is about to get very convoluted. (I really need some practice at written English before diving into Uni!) Trying to be short, then: I didn't open up to her. She was there to help her team, to prepare them, to motivate them, and I didn't give her that chance. I didn't trust her enough, and so denied myself the support which could have saved me. She was amazing. Without my family (who are indescribable), I was alone... And I couldn't do it on my own. That was the difference.

Inward

2008-10-12T14:19:00.004+13:00

I'm thinking, with my super-great perception, that my stages of self-doubt lead to extended self-analysis. Analysis. Yes, I do a lot of that. Not just of me, either, but of the people around me, of the environment and interaction: yet somehow, there's always something missing. I'm worried that taking so many tests will tie me to the results, that I won't be able to pull myself away from the perception they've created... Ah, good God.

On to more interesting things. (Did that quiz mention something about not tolerating your own emotions?)

*clears throat* ... and now I realise that I have no idea what to write about.

A very similar feeling overcame me yesterday, sitting on the steps of my uncle's house with a cousin I like very much and very seldom see. What do you say? Anything, I know - there's a very good chance that spending 19 years in a semi-normal family will have given me the ability to form words without causing offence. Yet my mind was empty.

I was sitting, watching, not thinking precisely but bathing in an unconscious interpretation of the scene: a crowd of people, some related to me, some not, talking, laughing and eating to the music of Jack Johnson and the Black Seeds. Good humour (unrelated thought: have I come back sounding like an old English lady?). It was warm, inclusive, enveloping. Rose was next to me, sitting in silence, and I was just enjoying the spectacle. I've always assigned a very mellow feeling to that phrase, and now I wonder why it's so hard for me to describe what I was doing the same way: but that was what it was. Totally self-involved, and dedicated to internal pleasure rather than any kind of shared joy. I was thinking too much!

My sister sighs at me a lot. She laughs, and sighs. So do I, of course: it's the oldest child's prerogative. :-)

I've just read this entry back, and it's a bit of a shock how normal I sound. Self-criticism like this doesn't make me any less, just human. Why didn't I get that before?

Enneagram Test Result

2008-09-06T02:06:00.005+12:00

This is me. (Ironic, after the rant in the previous entry.) :P

Nine With a 1 Wing

Tend to have been "model children." Instinctively worked to please their parents by being virtuous, orderly, and little trouble. When awakened, they have great moral authority plus good-hearted peacemaking tendencies. Often have a sense of mission, public or private, that involves working hard for the welfare of everyone they are committed to. Principled expression of love. Desire to contribute, do little harm. May be well-liked, modest, endearing, gentle yet firm. Some have great grace and composure with bursts of spontaneity and sweetness. Elegant simplicity. When entranced, they tend to be self-neglectful. May go passively dead and operate from a dubious, fractured morality. Dutiful to what they shouldn't be. Play the good child, disappear into contexts, settle for being overlooked or just partly recognized. Passive tolerance of absurd or damaging situations. One-sided relationships where the Nine gives too much. Rationalize, minimize, tell themselves they had a great childhood, everything's fine. Placid numbness creeps over them. Intolerance of their own emotions. Gradually deaden their soul.

--------------

Not liking the sound of that last bit. Is Jessie a Four, Dad?

US Political Snapshot

2008-09-06T00:03:00.004+12:00

This may just be a rant. Warning: written in the heat of the moment.

Did I just hear John McCain call the Russian government 'rich with oil wealth and corrupt with power'? Rich with oil wealth? That's your attack? Good God! And corrupt? How dare they!

How does he reconcile ridiculous, emotive slander like this (no doubt true, of course, but just as accurate when speaking about the United States itself) with any notion of justice? Of respect?

How can the system allow one of the two most important people in the country to carve out his position as opposed to something he undoubtedly represents? That he is claiming the moral high ground amazes me. The good qualities must be there. Why lower yourself to this drivel? Most importantly, how has the political system evolved to reward someone who appeals to the most xenophobic, bigoted and fearful aspects of humankind?

What's Going On Here?

2008-08-25T10:55:00.006+12:00

That capital 'O' in the title above frustrates me. Has anyone else noticed that the media is capitalizing every part of a sentence now? Even the 'a's, as in 'Have A Biscuit'. I know they didn't teach me that at school - but no, must not become a grumpy old lady at 19! Language changes. Cultural evolution; that's why we no longer use the phrase 'ye olde'. ^^

Now, I took this on helloquizzy:

------------------------------------------------------------------

Your result for The Ultra Ultimate Personality Test...

The Protector

You scored 10 Extroversion, 78 Intuition, 69 Emotional, and 28 Spontaneity!

INFJ

INFJs are intuitive, caring, quiet and peace-loving: deep and complex people who may seem equally at home dealing with the personal and analytical spheres of life. The interior world of vision and ideas is this type's most comfortable domain, but some degree of human connection is essential for the INFJ's happiness; a potential conflict for this type. Articulate, empathetic and idealistic, INFJs often say they just know things, they know them directly, and they may not be able to tell you how or why! INFJs seem to be able to feel others' feelings vicariously and sense the good and evil in situations: an almost psychic ability which may be an asset in many "people professions." Spiritual, sensitive and committed, INFJs enjoy being of service to others. Once this type's goals are set and the mind is made up, no argument based solely on reason and practicality is likely to divert the passionate INFJ from a mission or chosen project. Whether this characteristic manifests itself as admirable tenacity or bull-headed stubbornness may determine the individual INFJ's potential for life success.

Relationships

INFJs are warm and affirming people who are usually also deep and complex. They're likely to seek out and promote relationships that are intense and meaningful. They tend to be perfectionists, and are always striving for the Ultimate Relationship. For the most part, this is a positive feature, but sometimes works against the INFJ if they fall into the habit of moving from relationship to relationship, always in search of a more perfect partner. In general, the INFJ is a deeply warm and caring person who is highly invested in the health of their close relationships, and puts forth a lot of effort to make them positive. They are valued by those close to them for these special qualities. They seek long-term, lifelong relationships, although they don't always find them.

Strengths

- Warm and affirming by nature
- Dedicated to achieving the ultimate relationship
- Sensitive and concerned for others' feelings
- Usually have good communication skills, especially written
- Take their commitments very seriously, and seek lifelong relationships
- Have very high expectations for themselves and others (both a strength and weakness)
- Good listeners
- Are able to move on after a relationship has ended (once they're sure it's over)

[ Take The Ultra Ultimate Personality Test at HelloQuizzy ]

------------------------------------------------------------------

... and it's very much on the button. ('On the button': I like that. It reminds me of Grandad.) Apart from the almost-pyschic reading of people in social situations - I've always believed I was fairly awful at that. Hmmm... Unless it's one of my accepted truths: that almost every powerful emotion we experience, from rage to loneliness and desperation, springs from either love or the desire to be loved. We're all so fragile, deep down. A smile, that feeling of being accepted, being valued - that's it. Love.

Ah, but back to these quiz results: this line here, I liked. "Once this type's goals are set and the mind is made up, no argument based solely on reason and practicality is likely to divert the INFJ from a mission or chosen project." Mmmhmm. How else do you explain a plan to spend five years at university for an Arts degree? Oh, there are all the points I've made to myself: that a language is a skill for life, opening another world to exploration and understanding; that TESOL could provide employment while overseas; that a high-level degree could lead to further study in different parts of the world, following scholarships wherever they might go; but in the end, this is an exercise in thinking. It's five years devoted to an abstract concept, broadening the mind: learning. Wonderful! Impractical, but life isn't just about practicality. In a society like ours, where we're free to go beyond the essentials of survival (this is breath-taking luck), there are never-ending riches of culture, thought and experience to take in. We can go ever-higher in flights of contemplation, and wait, and percieve: we're unfettered. The power and the glory...

Bardem

2008-03-01T23:28:00.004+13:00

[picture to come - no matter how good someone looks on screen, you still have to find the right image!]

This was a thought that surfaced after watching a few clips of Javier Bardem on youtube - it's quick, unedited, just something to feed my hunger for writing and analysis (however trifling). ^^

There is an air of generosity and nobility around him, a humanity that seems at odds with the glamour of Hollywood. His accent - sexy beyond doubt, sweetening and deepening the mellow tones of his voice until it feels as if you're sinking into a pool of lush velvet - is genuine, his language that of a man of intelligence and sincerity. The honesty that marks the work of the great actors has always been known to come from their personal character, and the power of their performance seems to be in direct proportion to the intensity of their self-reflection. I think of method acting as a way of making your character alive through your personality, your body, your spirit. It is a changing of yourself to embrace an altered perception, but one that must be accepted wholely, without reservations. The courage of this act is what gives acting, and actors, the aura of magic for me.

IQ Test

2008-01-09T20:59:00.003+13:00

The Classic IQ Test

My Result: Visionary Philosopher

Your mind's strengths allow you to think ahead of the game — to imagine or anticipate what should come next in just about any situation. Because you're equally skilled in the numerical and verbal universes of the brain, you can draw from multiple sources of information to come up with great ideas. The timelessness of your vision and the balance between your various skills are what make you a Visionary Philosopher.

Two philosophers who share the same combination of skills you possess are Plato and Benedict Spinoza. Spinoza had insight into how things worked in the world. He could envision a future based on the patterns he saw in life, and used mathematical logic as a structure within which to present his philosophical arguments. With that base he was able to use logic to formulate his theories. Borrowing from his linguistic strengths he wrote eloquent texts and, therefore, was able to bring his philosophical ideas and structure to the rest of the world. His story exemplifies the talents that are present in the Visionary Philosopher intellectual type.

Whatever you decide to do in life, you've got a powerful mix of skills and insight that can be applied in a wide variety of ways. You can expand your mind to understand a situation. Your strong balance of math and verbal skills will help you explain things to others. For example, if you were on an archaeological dig and discovered an object, you could probably use your deductive powers to figure out not only what the object was but also how it was used. Given your ability to put things together, you are more than capable of inventing a life plan that is in synch with your perspective on how things were, how they are, and how they might be one day.

Take this test >

End of Year 13

2007-12-13T23:03:00.000+13:00

[ Haldir / Craig Parker - because Jess & I finally made it through all the extended versions of LOTR in one sitting! ]

Mood: Festive
Music: Clannad, something beautiful and nameless
Latest book finished: Gallic Wars by Julius Caesar
Excuse for being online: picking up bus tickets for the trip to Christchurch tomorrow
Top of my inbox: 'Help WWF Protect', World Wildlife Fund

Today I had a very geeky moment. These are not uncommon, as my personality does seem to swing that way - grammar, ribbon, books, perfectionist touches with chocolate cakes and truffles and countless other things - but this was of the kind that came so naturally it didn't even seem odd until I played it back.

Mum, Jess and I were watching McLeod's Daughters, a very girly Australian farming drama. One of the characters is psychic, and in this episode the writers had played on it by adding a temporary extra: an angel. His name was Gabriel, as you'd expect. (He was also tallish, muscular, Polynesian, and wore denim overalls, but that's just side-knowledge for now.) My mother commented that Gabriel was the 'fallen angel'. He isn't (I think that's the devil, Mum), so I pointed it out, and then proposed what I thought was a perfectly fitting analogy: whereas Gabriel was an archangel, epitome of goodness etc, the devil was like Sauron.

That did not seem weird. However, Mum and Jess burst out laughing... Argh. Apparently making Tolkien references out of the blue is geeky. Well, yes - but in my defence, that marathon Lord of the Rings session had occurred just the day before, and Jess understood me perfectly. She knew! I was not alone!

*resigned shake of head* Topic shift.

Have been looking up options for overseas next year, scouting through sites to check out some absolutely breath-taking ideas: trekking in Nepal, helping to rebuild schoolhouses destroyed by earthquakes; cycling through Cambodia to raise money for child sponsorship; going on a mini Amazing Race through Asia with a friend. It's all too good, too overwhelming... There's just so much to do.

How do all you adults do it? How do you organise yourselves, find money when you need it, and take time from work to do things like this? How do you wade through the piles of paperwork (even my tiny portion of which are driving me mad)? I'm in awe.

Eyes sliding closed... Computer screen becoming blurry... Music fading to background... That pavlova and cream is sending me off to sleep all full and comforted.

Thank you so much for reading - oh, and Merry Christmas!

Dux 2007

2007-10-30T23:07:00.000+13:00

[ for moderation's sake: no Orlando, but a gorgeous picture by zeitspuren at flickr ]

Mood: Sleepy (as always), satisfaction mixed with stress and disbelief
Music: Paul Potts, 'Nessun Dorma'
Latest book finished: When the Emperor was Divine by Julie Otsuka
Excuse for being online: emailing my most recent design assignment - oh yeah. :)
Top of my inbox: 'Oat & Herb Encrusted Turkey', Daily Dish #1300 from allrecipes.com

*deep breath* Okay. I got Dux!

My principal told me six days ago, in unthinkably warm Dunedin heat (must have been over 20 degrees celcius - this happens maybe ten times a year if we're lucky :P) and the bliss of a sunny period spent outdoors during my one study break for the week. I bathed in the sunlight, painted, still borne high by a morning birthday party and cake - I know, I know, utopian: sometimes life really is wonderful.

Ms Johnson appeared, caught my eye, drifted over; she sat, all matter-of-fact, and drew a breath in that business-like way she has. "Virginia, I'm glad I caught you." I must have nodded, smiled, though I remember she didn't seem all that excited - perhaps it was the sun, dulling any perception I may have had beyond 'Ahh... this is nice.' There were a few seconds more, filled with light chatter, and then: "You and Rosa have both been named Dux."

Breathe.

I was giddy, laughing, ecstatic, overcome by the brilliance of the moment: euphoric, though still with a vague curiosity about her self-control - how is this a time to be calm? This is fantastic!!! A $5000 scholarship to Otago University next year, to go toward tuition or residence fees, and a medal! (If Rosa is to be believed.) Yes! *dances* Even better, we both get scholarships! Our marks were impossible to separate, as we came first-equal in both subjects we share and achieved three firsts and a second each elsewhere: perfect!!! Yes, oh yes, a dream come true... This allows three of us to get awards, two co-duxes and a Proxima Accessit (Ginny needs google that word to check spelling). This means that Walker can be named, and he deserves it. I don't want to say 'honestly' when explaining myself, because it sounds too much like justification - more, like justification for something you need to defend. So, simply, I thought he would beat me in English this year. He is a brilliant writer: his essays are magic; and not only that, but he can speak. His Hamlet last year was wonderful, the kind of intense, dramatic, confident wonderful that makes next door's class applaud as well as his own. Even remembering now, that sense of wonder still washes over me. Deserved Excellence!

It proved too much not to tell Rosa. I saw her that afternoon as we waited for scholarship classes, and attempted to casually ask if she'd seen Ms Johnson lately... Apparently I don't do subtle. It took me 15 minutes to give in, though! Argh. (Am squashing guilt about not being able to share her joy with her Dad: Mr. Tobin had a plan all worked out. Damn, I wish I'd had the ability to keep my mouth shut!) She was... well, just like me. In disbelief, breaking out into random bouts of laughter, skipping, grinning, questioning me constantly. It's a wonderful memory.

Co-Dux 2007. Wow. I'm shaking my head still, unable to believe. YES!

More thoughts

2007-10-29T20:51:00.000+13:00

Dwayne "the Rock" Johnson - just because I can.

Hey. :)

Recent crazes: (I've discovered that even when you approach the end of high school, even when you're supposed to be thinking about growing up, you still get caught by the silliest little things. I have a sneaking suspicion that it never ends, either.)

- Minesweeper. Thoughtless, repetitive, dull... so why can't I stop clicking?
- Stress! Oh yes, stress: the kind that lives, snarling like a demon, in the back of your mind; the kind that tinges every relaxed act with guilt and drives you to push further and further away in a fruitless desire to escape. Oh lovely stress, please be gone!
- Browsing the Arts courses at Otago. So far I've narrowed it down to nine possible majors and a handful of minors (Anthropology, English, Philosophy, History, Political Studies, Spanish, European Studies, Classics and Religious Studies, in case you're interested.) How are you supposed to decide? At first glance none of these seem to scream 'career potential' - but that doesn't matter, it really doesn't. Uni was always going to be about passion for me.
So: how to choose between Alexander the Great and Buddhism? Medieval literature and Middle Eastern politics? Spanish and anything else?

There is a great gulf in front of me. Life. A lot of it. Where to go?

Europe, or a $5000 scholarship, ready and waiting and next year only. I can't pretend this choice bothers me too much: it's a big one, but both options are wonderful. I am amazingly lucky.

Back to work. Design awaits.

I hope everything is going well for you, truly, whoever you are. People are fascinating...

Thoughts #1

2007-09-27T09:15:00.002+12:00

[ Orlando Bloom - just because I can ]

I'm forcing this out, trying to boot some creativity & empathy back into a wilted sense of, well, everything! It's not a major meltdown, not a 'what's the point in living' moment, but instead a deadening, a slackening... Where are all my people? *frustrated scream*

The problem (and not a huge problem, hardly even registering on the 'world problem' scale - eep, what a facetious thing to say! Okay, pulling myself together :P)... The problem is: I'm all by myself. The house seems somehow stretched, as if its lost the buoying influence of Mum and Jess; the dogs are flat (all save Shani / Sprite: she's ridiculously bendy, hyper-happy-ears and absolutely gorgeous :) and the lack of our usual competing music - rock and metal from Jess, solid gold from Mum, and my varied Jesse Cook-ish mishmash - has cast a spell of silence.

[Ahem. This entry is not going too well: please ignore all cornyness in the above sentences.]

I think it might be time I moved on to brighter (and certainly more useful) things. Have a good day! (Yes, that's an order.)

Lists, Music and Birthdays

2007-08-05T10:51:00.000+12:00

Hey. :)

Since this is the first update of winter (New Zealand winter, that is: enjoy the sunshine if you have it in your gorgeous northern hemisphere summer), I've decided to stream-line the process. Think of it as a beaver deciding not to lug the whole tree through the snow after him, but instead just focussing on the small stuff. (And if there's a ridiculous contradiction in there, such as the fact that beavers never lug whole trees or they don't ever see snow - though I figured they would, being North American - put it down to the fact that it's almost midnight here in heater-land and Ginny hasn't gotten a lot of sleep lately. I'm not usually dense. :P)

Anyway. *smack self on head - am stream-lining, not going off on tangents*

Most uplifting moment of the last three days: sitting snuggled on the couch at night listening to Paul Potts' Nessun Dorma turned almost up to maximum volume, looking out over the lights of the Otago Harbour and dreaming. The man has an amazing voice, deep, strong and so powerful it makes you want to get right up and start singing beside him; or it would if not for the fact that you (or at least I) sound terrible and would ruin the ears of the audience.

Most generosity: a tie between Sarah for her banana & choc chip muffins (she ran out of chocolate half-way through and decided to sacrifice her Moro bar for my birthday present, awh :), Jessie's painstakingly baked and decorated birthday cake, Aunty Pam's "I'm sure your life will be full of adventure" (but not in a reassuring way - this was unprompted), Mum in all guises and forms, and Dad for calling and listening to my nonsensical giggling/misunderstandings for almost 20 minutes. Lovely family! ^^

Best 'yay for big noses' moment: Adrien Brody in The Pianist, talking to the polish woman outside the cafe. He's just so elegant, so human.

Most distressing: also The Pianist. The Stormtroopers enter a house in the Jewish district of Warsaw and kill its occupants. I would say 'enough said', but there can't ever be, can there?

'The pet won't leave me alone': our six-month-old Briard pup, Hobo, has his nose at perfect hip height - and he just does not stop poking you! *growls at memory*

Good school moment: finding my direction in Painting. ^^ It's reassuring to discover just how you work, what your path is and what you can do with your skills. Our teacher is also wonderfully supportive.

Bad school moment: "Get me out of here!!!"
Hmmmmm... *thinks* Biology, when our substiture teacher gave us nothing to do but sit for half an hour - or Design, when Mr Almond talks and talks and talks and tries to help but talks and talk and talks - or Scholarship History, when my lack of sleep rendered every one of Mr Enright's perfectly enunciated words as dull as the banging of a tin back door.

Favourite quote of the last week:
"In thought, in touch, in breath and being, we are one."

And, luckily discovered in a word folder:

Ten things you might not know about me.
(Never mind that if you're reading this, these are not 'might's but probably 'definitely don't's).

1. I write bad poetry.
2. I have four-year-old maths books in my locker at school, kept for the memories.
3. I still think about being called a witch by my classmates in year five.
4. I am wonderfully, amazingly naive.
5. I still don't want to give up on learning to ride, even though it's an expensive hobby that we really can't afford.
6. I have a deep fear of failure.
7. I'm a little bit resentful of the popular girls at school, even though I've been denying it for years. (And know how silly it is - really, I do.)
8. I'm a nerd!
9. I have an odd attraction to Americans.
10. I still like colouring in colouring books.

Ten things I worry about:

1. The world!
2. Ignoring the world
3. Not experiencing life
4. Not supporting others
5. Ignorance
6. Discrimination
7. Doing my best
8. Not letting other people down
9. If I will ever be able to take that next step
10. Letting someone I love feel lonely

Ten things I feel and why:

1. Sad: because I know that there's more of me I want to be
2. Alive: in the beauty of others
3. Frustrated: with myself!
4. Hopeless: because there is so much out of my hands
5. Silly: because I get stressed
6. Special: in general
7. Odd: also in general. :)
8. Focused: when I'm learning something
9. Free: listening to others express themself to me
10. Livid: with people!!!!

And the lyrics to Caruso, because they are beautiful. :)

Here, where the sea shines
and the wind howls,
on the old terrace
beside the gulf of Sorrento,
a man embraces a girl
after the tears,
then clears his throat
and contines the song:

I love you very much
very, very much, you know;
it is a chain by now
that heats the blood inside the veins,
you know...

He saw the lights out on the sea,
thought of the nights there in America,
but they were only the fishermen's lamps
and the white wash astern.
He felt the pain in the music
and stood up from the p iano,
but when he saw the moon
emergin from a cloud,
death also seemed sweeter to him.
He looked the girl in the eyes,
those eyes as green as the sea.
Then suddenly a tear fell
and he believed he was drowning.

I love you very much,
very, very much, you know;
it is a chain by now
that heats the blood inside the veins,
you know...

The power of opera,
where every drama is a hoax;
with a little make-up and with mime
you can become someone else.
But two eyes that look at you,
so close and real,
make you forget the words,
confuse your thoughts,
so everything becomes small,
also the nights there in America.
You turn and see your life
through the white wash astern.
But, yes, it is life that ends
and he did not think much about it,
on the contrary, he already felt happy
and continued his song:

I love you very much,
very, very much, you know;
it is a chain by now
that heats the blood inside the veins,
you know...

Irish Essay

2007-06-09T14:54:00.000+12:00

For you, Dad: this is my $50 essay! ^ - ^ Righteous much? :P

The urge to altruism is one of the most celebrated aspects of the human character. Through a desire to help others, through compassion, through sympathy or even understanding, each of us has felt its touch. As a tool with which to improve the world, it has perhaps no equal: for which of us cannot remember a time when the kindness of another has lifted our own spirits? Perhaps a welcome, warmly given; a heartfelt compliment, a gift, a remembrance or thought, a joke which blunts the edge of pain. Smiles, in all their forms. Acceptance. Love.

Suffering is a condition common to all humanity. Throughout history, in all corners of the world, we have known it. Its Irish birth can be found in the very beginning of lore; for Cessair, the mythic chieftess who was the first to invade those shores, is said to have died from a broken heart. Closer to us, it has been given tragic salute in the rebellions that have cast long shadows over Irish history: the armed uprisings of 1641, 1798, and 1916, wrought by a fervent passion to right perceived wrongs.

The greater task, not only of bringing attention to human rights injustices but to remedy them, is one so large in scope as to seem the domain of only a very few people in the world. They are the powerful, the rich, the famous: the idols of our increasingly secular society, signal fires which focus our eyes on areas so lightly called ‘trouble spots’.

When Mary Robinson visited Somalia in 1992, she went as the most popular president in Ireland’s history. She was an outspoken and morally driven liberal who aimed to draw her people in from the fringes of society, offer them respect; to listen to their concerns, and in so doing increase the chance of them listening to hers. What she saw, in the wake of the famine which had begun years ago, shocked her. A distant, composed woman who resented the outpouring of emotion in court, she had trained herself to hold her personal feelings in check. She did so as long as she could.

On the day Mary Robinson first set foot on Somalian soil, 140 bodies had been laid out for burial - but a tiny fraction of the 300,000 deceased. Fresh from the well-stocked opulence and pleasures of family at the presidential residence of Áras an Uachtaráin, the Harvard-trained lawyer was faced with desolation. She talked with those scarred, deformed by the absurdity of war. She saw and walked among women cradling starving children in their arms; she touched infants whose life would last no longer than the lighting of a candle. Death surrounded her. She was immersed, in a way few of our privileged society ever are, in the lives of those who have no hope.

And, days later, while addressing the United Nations, her compassion overcame her. “I cannot be entirely calm speaking to you because I have such a sense of what the world must take responsibility for.”

“I felt shamed by what I saw, shamed, shamed - on behalf of the European world and the American world and the developed world generally. What are we doing that we have not a greater conscience for it?”

As I write this, the United States has borne its worst ever civilian massacre. Suffering surrounds us: we must take action. So many times this has been expressed: in the aftermath of World War One, the “war to end all wars”; in the years after the Holocaust, following the defeat of one of the most hated names in world history; after Korea, Vietnam, Chechnya, the first assault by a Bush on Iraq. It was ever spoken with passion, as it is now. It has stirred the creation of the United Nations, the drafting of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights: “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood.”

Darfur – does that word strike down into your soul? It marks continuing suffering, continuing neglect. Robert Mugabe’s Zimbabwe does the same; so too the decades-long repression of Tibet. The population of Mogadishu, capital of Somalia, has lost 100,000 people to emigration since February of this year as it endures a brutal clash between insurgents and Ethiopian forces.

Persecution may be a part of human nature, but so too should be the desire to see it stopped.

Both Ireland and New Zealand, green lands surrounded by sea, infused with a colonial attitude and a queer sense of isolation, have developed a distinctive community spirit. The Irish are known for their generosity, for their humour, their warmth: though torn by religious and political dissension, the Emerald Isle projects a warm and welcoming image to the modern world.

The diaspora, whether first generation or seventh, proudly proclaim their Irish ancestry. And, in Britain especially, this celebration of their ancestry is greatly encouraged by the fact that in Mary Robinson, they found a President who gave them respect. For the first time since the 1840’s, those Irish who had been forced to emigrate were recognized, remembered, honoured. They were Irish “beyond our shores”, rightly given tribute by a light kept burning in the President’s own window.

In her many journeys overseas, Mrs. Robinson visited the poor and disabused. Her first meeting as President was with Threshold, an organisation for the homeless: her last, seven years later, with a charity for the homeless called Focus Point. She was a truly humane head of state, not only the first Catholic, the first woman and the first to win without support from Fianna Fáil, but a deeply moral individual who breathed life and compassion into an office confined by tradition and constitution. She has been mentioned in the same breath as Nelson Mandela and democratic Czech hero Václav Havel: both men of outstanding personal integrity who have contributed greatly to the global advance of human rights. In her first year as High Commissioner for Human Rights with the UN, she was to resoundingly validate that judgment.

The Irish people today fulfill and expand on the moral vision of her time. The Irish Centre for Human Rights was founded in January 2000 at the National University of Ireland, Galway, offering scholarships, PhD and masters programmes in international human rights law; a joint initiative has been made by Irish Aid, Amnesty International and several Irish non-governmental organizations on violence against women in the Sudan; Ireland is currently 6^th on the OECD list of aid donors; and, most tellingly, Gerry Adams and Rev. Ian Paisley have agreed to share power. Unionists and nationalists sit side by side, their compromise the sweetest gift that Ireland has been given in many, many years.

We thrill to the idea that we might be able to lighten another’s burden, that somehow we could mean something: instead of an anonymous shadow passing on the street, we could be a source of love. We can know, understand, value; and be known, understood and valued in return. We dream of the power to bring happiness – and we have the hope that helping others, whether it seems doomed, hopeless, or unrealistic, will influence attitudes and improve lives. This is altruism. This is Mary Robinson, and the Ireland she helped create.

2007-04-30T17:07:00.000+12:00

[ made by me - stock from sxc : morguefile : kuschelirmel : moniquedb-stock ]
[ m y g a l l e r y ]

Ginny is close to comatose. Ginny needs sleep...

Ginny fingers no hit keyboard right.

Ginny... gets tired of talking about herself in the third person. I was up all night writing an essay for History - internal assessment, credit, blah education, words, words and more words. (This is how you can tell I'm really exhausted: usually I love the whole word-blah-word thing.)

*must stop wanting to write about what would be here in another future* O.o

My hands are purple. The cat (one of the cats - Molly, white and speckled, friendly purring) jumped on top of the heater a few nights ago and gave herself a fright. Is this what 17-year-olds think about?

*shakes head* I give up. Will come back when I am awake and less horribly self-centred. Have a good night! :)

Intentions

2007-04-15T15:12:00.000+12:00

Links to all the brilliant, beautifully talented people out there:

... will be coming as soon as I get my game together and actually finish that essay!

[ Dad? *poke* Get your butt on a chair and write to me, yes? ]

A Night for Basking

2007-04-03T22:12:00.000+12:00

A collection of loosely associated words and phrases - it's a night for basking in what other people have thought, think... *bask*
It's very hard to try and cut this poem down, but, for reasons of copyright... (I'm guessing: just don't want to take any chances. No, don't want to hurt this author in any way - but, Dad, you have to see this.)

ponsonby/remuera/my lai

...
palm to th clear brow
in the oldest, most obscene
salute
& in th eyes
th mandrake root -

th blackened bone.

2 million years
have proved nothing
he did not already know
ah ! there he goes !

th kiwi's come home.
...

- david mitchell

"... The poet must find words, sounds, rhythms and a structure that combine to stimulate our imagination so that we can 'see' what he or she has seen.
But a poem is not a photograph! It is important to remember that we do not 'see' an exact reproduction of what the poet has seen. Rather, we visualise a scene or situation that is stimulated into existence by the poet's words and skills, but is uniquely flavoured by our past experiences. Thus, the reception of a poet's offering is always partly a reflection of who we are and how we respond. That is why a poem may move one person to tears, while another person may find it superficial, or even boring."

[I'll always remember when Mr Wallace read 'The Bath' to our Y12 class. The sadness, the despair and loss of that old woman touched me so deeply, invoking images of my own family... I saw my grandmother alone and helpless, abandoned by the strength of youth and strength of love. Frail, she'd always seemed. Delicate. This poem connected so naturally with the protective instinct I have for her, it drew on such fundamental emotion, that I couldn't help but be moved. Of course, the resonance and power of my lovely teacher's voice cast their spell also.]

Kubla Khan

...
But oh, that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
...
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she play'd
...

- Samuel Taylor Coleridge

From the Aeneid

...
Then shall our furious centuries lay down their
warring arms, and shall grow kind. Silver-haired Fidelity,
Vesta, and Quirine Romulus, with his brother Remus at his
side, shall make the laws. And the terrible iron-constricted
Gates of War shall shut; and safe within them shall stay the
godless and ghastly Lust of Blood, propped on his pitiless
piled armoury...

- Virgil

Art + Cakes

2007-03-31T13:51:00.000+12:00

Another great find while surfing the web - possibly the best manip artist I've seen. When I grow up, I wanna be like this. :-P

Miscellaneous observations:

- Mr. Wallace really is a beautiful person. He’s the kind of teacher that can open your mind, justify you in every sense and leave you feeling about a hundred feet tall. No words I’ve been able to find do him justice… (And that might be the ultimate goal as a writer: to describe and express the people who take you beyond words.) This week in scholarship we talked about romantic poets – Blake, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelley, Byron, Keats – and read through things like this.

“A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:

Its loveliness increases; it will never

Pass into nothingness; but still will keep

A bower quiet for us, and a sleep

Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.”

- From A Thing of Beauty by John Keats

He spoke of aging (we’ll get back to this), of the raw exposure to humanity which these poets embraced: both the ‘world beautiful’ and all the pain of life. Passion, spirit, assumptions, hopes…

And then he said: “Is this too deep for a Tuesday afternoon?”

- This morning I took another step on my journey toward becoming one of those lovely, affectionate old ladies with lavender sweaters (you know the type). They’re the ones with big smiles and welcoming voices, who usher people into living rooms with roaring fires – the kind who exclaim warmly at news of school, chalk and birthday presents... They thrill their grandchildren by letting them lick the beaters and send them merrily out on a mission to set the table; they play folksy music from the 50’s, play with the dog and laugh so loud. They’re the type who let you have all the cushions and more tomato sauce, who look so pleased when you ‘eat so well’ – they’re those grandmothers who stuff visitors full of cakes, mashed potato and home-made Christmas cards.

[Ahh, I’m so soppy: even thinking about Nana made me cry.] Back to the point…

I baked a chocolate cake. [Yes, that’s my point. No mocking.] I baked a chocolate cake, iced it with jam, cream and smarties and took it to school. Once there (and Dad you know all about Group (or at last you should if you’ve been listening :P)) we dished it up to all the people in the room, offering it round to ‘thank you very much’s, ‘legend’s, ‘ooooooooh…’ It’s a good feeling. Giving people things makes you happy!

Sharing the Sharing

2007-03-30T19:32:00.000+12:00

BIG NEWS: Today I made edible muffins... for the first time ever. ^^ Not only edible, but actually pleasant. Yes!

BETTER NEWS: Something for you. [All links also on sidebar.]

Thoughts for the future

2007-03-24T14:13:00.000+12:00

[ Blogmaster stuff: tried out the new updated template, but couldn't decode the sidebar - I need my personalization. Oh, and I'm back! ]

Ever feel like life just never changes? It's a delusion, I know - but so tiring! Lately it's been as if I never go home: as if I emerge from a restless dream, go to school, focus, listen; and then get on the bus, off to some nameless place where there is no respite, and back once more to school. It must be because this is my last year, and I've been considering, really considering, things which have only been vague half-thoughts before. University, for one: NZ$15,000 a year, just to live. The flat, the food, transport, clothes: $15,000. Add in $3-4000 for each paper, and I'll be tackling at least twice the living costs... Need a job. I really do. For me might be the gap year, not to travel (or not just to travel) but to make money for food! *rueful headshake*

It's odd (or not so odd), but coming from a family where money is scarce, the dingy, damp-ridden flat of the typical student holds no appeal at all. Not one ounce - and I don't need luxury here, just something waterproof. Noodles are the same. No appeal. Ah, I've got the soul of a well-off person (it would make sponsoring a child slightly easier as well :P).

There's something magical in my mind about the knowledge base at uni - about sunny days and majestic oak trees, reading some beautifully obscure textbook while sitting on the grass with a bottle of water at your side. About, too, rain on walls of glass (see the Otago Uni library) and a bright, well-lit room, the soft hum of talk and tap of keyboards as you surf the net for some website equally obscure. I find myself fantasizing about a place where people care about what they learn... *sigh* People who want to learn.

A dramatic school, artsy and (just) sporty, LPHS tries to appeal to everyone, not just the academic elite. It's human, inclusive, positive - but it has its downfalls. There are, always, Y9's running around like lousebitten jaggedhearted squirrels. They shriek. They shriek! It offends every geeky sensibility in me. The soft-spoken, wide-eyed "Wow, that story is gorgeous - the delicate interplay of words, the rhythm" child that I am is utterly bewildered by people who shriek. Why? They're friends, for goodness' sake! What will happen if they touch you?

Intimidation happens too. There are some people with a talent for broad, arching sweeps of generalisation: for useful, considered definitions of character, ability, situations. I'm not one of them. They make me nervous, because I don't feel I can respond: what use, when they speak in such vibrant, bold terms, to add in my little bit of detail? A doubt, appearing in my mind, does nothing to enhance. It’s colourless, insipid. It adds nothing but its presence. I must say here that I’m (usually) secure about what I know – but some people just unnerve me. The decisive, dynamic ones… I’m undone by admiration. I turn into a sponge.

I was invited to a friend’s party a week ago (just skip this bit if you’ve got that sinking feeling :-P). She’d come over for a holiday from Oregon to catch up with all her Kiwi peoples, spending time with people she hadn’t seen for 4 years. I was apprehensive, pleased to see her, anxious – a ball of nerves, really. Only these weren’t useful nerves. They weren’t the kind that fill you with adrenalin, get you bouncy and rambling, turn you green in the face: no, these were more like chloroform. I was just present. (Of course, it didn’t help that I’d thrown myself into painting the hour before, switching off all the outside pathways.) I was in, in my own mind, watching and considering, utterly absorbed in the being of things. In short, no more capable of interesting conversation than a tea towel.

At this friend’s party there were: her mother, father (both very well-educated, well-travelled, good-hearted American intellectuals), family friends (including a potter with a passion for second-hand shops and a V.I.P. at Otago Uni, ex-USA academic), mutual friend Adele (who, because she’s such a social soul, couldn’t help believing in me to make it on my own), her German exchange student Anka (really, really nice but only slightly less awkward with the crowd than me), Adele’s parents (opinionated, joking, inclusive), and a girl from our school named Sibby. Now, she was the clincher. Sibby is… gorgeous. Stylish, well-spoken, tactful, witty and blonde. She’s our Head Girl, and for good reason. She terrifies me.

I was trapped, nearly inanimate, in a noisy, crowded room for hours. It was agonizing. Everyone was talkative, friendly – and, in my painfully impressionable frame of mind, loomed as cool and distant as the Himalayas. My awareness was a hundred million miles away, being incinerated in the midst of some outlying star… (Just an example of the images that floated across a muted perception:

Betelgeuse, in the belt of Orion… Orion, famed hunter-constellation of the Ancient Greeks… Ancient Greeks, who give birth to Heracles, Zeus, Athenian democracy, the heroes of Thermopylae… Sparta, warrior-state and martial consciousness… Persia, ancient to the ancients, built in the very cradle of humanity, conquered by Alexander the Great… Alexander, ancient to the ancients, hero of Cleopatra’s Egypt and legend to Julius Caesar himself… Caesar, who met his death on the Ides of March … et tu, Brute…

and on and on and on.)

I learned some things. First, which I don’t quite yet believe: that these people, imposing, impressive and inspiring as they are, are just like me. Second: that I should not attempt anything social while in this state. It. Does. Not. Work. Oh, maybe with close friends, the kinds of people with whom you laze around on sunny days: the kinds who pelt you with chocolate chips, who clear their junk-scattered couch for you, who pull faces at you in a boring class. The kinds who never, ever let you leave without having a piece of cake. They are immune to anything – you’d do the same for them. But with others, the reflex-smile acquaintances… To them, it’s unfair. So I’m not doing it again.

2006-09-17T18:22:00.000+12:00

Some thoughts provoked by allmovie.com:

1. Braveheart
Although described as 'stirring', 'rousing', 'inspirational', this is one of the few films about which I'm most reluctant to hear argument. It gives me a small, tight knot of fear in the pit of my stomach, a sickened feeling of sadness and the loss of humanity.
It speaks of, and has been used to define, 'the societal obligations of the modern citizen-soldier' - and what would they be? What? How do these atrocities get justified? I'm incapable of believing that one man glorying in the blood of another could ever, ever be considered 'societal obligation'.
That must be the core of my disgust at this movie: that not only do people slaughter each other, they find joy in it. It fulfils them. The act of murder becomes an act for God and country, never mind that both God and country are born of human relationships which, for the sake of everything, require humans!

Okay, so that was my single thought; after going down that path I don't feel up to exploring another. Have a good day...

Oh, what the hell.

2. Snow White
This film is... well, it's magical. It's the home and salvation of innocent pleasure, sweet and pure. We don't care, watching this, that it reinforces gender stereotypes. How could we? This is Disney! It's the kind of film which allows you to finish watching it with a huge smile on your face, one which seems all the better for having been left until you're (well, I'm) 17 years old and just done with your senior formal. (That was great, by the way. :D)

Time to disappear and do some reading for English, Oracles and Miracles. Have a good night. ^^

Purge

2006-09-12T21:43:00.000+12:00

Just so you're warned, this is going to be a battering out of personal issues and hence may be very boring / confusing / ill-thought-out / self-indulgent. Most definitely the last one. :-)

Right, so... How? How can people do that much twisting of your inner spirit just by looking at you, or not looking at you; by laughing or taking a deep breath, frowning, saying something obviously stupid or obviously elitist (his word), all the while knowing that you'll (I'll) read into it way more than he could ever have meant? It's as Sayuri explains, in Memoirs of a Geisha: she pulls out her practised smile, spreads it upon her face and leaves anyone who's looking to decide their own interpretation. (I'm tempted to use another literary reference, but that might just mean that I'm feeling threatened (which I am) and feel the need to make myself feel smart (which I do) - and those feelings have just created the last sentence. This is a very confusing topic.)

So this frighteningly observant, clever, opinionated and flawed human being has just managed to set off a cascade of self-doubting thoughts within my brain, which as usual are answered by those of justification: nobody's-perfect, pull-yourself-together, think-about-something-else, stop-being-selfish, prove-your-worth. You know the ones. Only this time the justifying arguments are leaving behind (being allowed to leave) a tiny dark smear, precisely because I know they're justification. The idea of convincing yourself to do something, of overcoming instinctive reluctance, seems unnatural to me - and no matter how illogical that view, it's still there.

"She knows who she is." The words make me laugh now, after this half-effective unleashing. The ideas they set in motion are too many, too complicated and too contradictory to ever be truly understood; and so, they're amusing. Humans in general, me in particular - we're just so amusing. And that's not in a bad way, far from it. We're magical. Colour, music, magic, light: that is humanity. Every little turn of our minds, the sheer oddity of conscious thought... it's a miracle.
(Note the withdrawal from analysis to a more comforting appreciation. *snuggles deeper into pillowy softness*) Ah, that boy. Or is he a man? Can he be counted as a man if his impact on others is so vast? No, I don't think that makes a difference. Dad, you could flesh out this argument. *pokes*

There's a distinct element of competition in the way I relate to him. When I've been truthful, I've said it: I've said out loud, to others, that there was no way he was getting my Excellence in English. It was mine. He could have History (and deservedly), but English is... something special to me. It's taught by one of the finest teachers I've known, someone I can admire for both his heart and his mind. He's human in all the best ways. They feel this, my teacher and that nameless, indescribable ripple in the world; they know the fact just as well as I do. I can do it.

Somehow, this is helping. Mixed in with all the uncertainty is a shy fragment of hope. Cartharsis?
He always asked the questions. Damn that boy and his common sense.

Woman

2006-09-04T19:42:00.000+12:00

I have a new love affair - with Wolfmother! They. Are. Awesome. ^ - ^

I've been studying for practice exams, not as hard as I should be but more than is absolutely necessary. I think it's a nice balance. *dancing away to pounding Aussie rock music* Damn, Wolfmother are good. A "sprawling beast" is how they describe themselves, and it seems pretty apt.

To continue, and enscribe some thoughts which have been bouncing around inside my head (surely these things pester everyone) on the nature of reality. Kind of a big topic, I know. In fact, that's what I've been wondering about: when does it become too big? When can't you handle it any more? And why on earth do we feel that that point could ever come? Why is it that wise men and women have said for centuries that we must think of others' happiness before we can truly enjoy our own, and yet we find it so hard to do just that?

In one of the short stories we studied this year Owen Marshall says 'there is no dichotomy of flesh and spirit when you are young'. It almost seems to me that as we grow there evolves a seperate split, not between body and mind but between 'you' as you think of yourself and 'you' as you really are; between the person you want to be, and the person your actions cast you as.

Why is it that when we feel we are good, we somehow lose our innocence? Why is ignorant beauty more pure than the beauty of the aware?

Why does having someone to beat lead you to justify more actions than you would otherwise? Does competition inspire negative degradation or positive delusion; or, perhaps, positive truth? (I would add in 'negative truth' for matters of symmetry, but the existence of that is so obvious it probably doesn't even need acknowledgement.) :P

I don't have answers for those, not yet, and there is a part of me that never wants to. I like the idea of open-ended questions. They're food for thought.

Hope you're having a good time out there, wherever you are.

Updates for Daddums: stuff from a Media Studies course that has somehow been transformed into four hours a week of graphic design.

Pages 1-4, Rockquest feature...

The clowns came rushing in...

2006-07-31T21:14:00.000+12:00

image from beiz.jp

So we're all in a random mood, aren't we, guys? *waves to Daddy holed up to horrible, dreadfully sunny and gorgeous France* Don't worry, we shall rescue you. ^^

Just a few things.

1. Hallelujah! I get to do manips for school! *dances* It's utterly magnificent: my Media Studies class is publishing a magazine this year, and I get to do a massive chunk of the designing. There's going to be a feature on Amnesty (as big as I can make it), one or two fashion shoots, tons of interviews, a graffiti spotlight, horoscopes, editorials, and a lot of other stuff I forget. We shall rule.
It's as-yet unnamed, so if you have any good ideas leave a comment. :)

2. I'm turning 17 this Thursday, the 3rd of August. I don't know why, but this seems to be a very big deal. I suddenly feel old. (And we all know there are a few people out there shaking their heads at that and going "You have no idea" - but that's the fun of being young. You are free to act oblivious.)

3. Speaking of oblivion, is it just me or is it harder to get into these days? Something about the state of the world makes acting ignorant... repulsive. Such a harsh word, that, and yet still no real indication of what's going on. I can't even imagine it; somehow it must be beyond words. So hard.

That's enough. I love you, Dad - have fun in France, but don't forget to come home.

Walking Through the Mists

2006-07-13T19:52:00.000+12:00

Manip by me, images from dpawatts at morguefile.com. Used with permission.

I'm back, or more importantly for this, back online. Time and money have been too tight to allow much computer action these last couple of months, but thanks to a week-long stay in Canterbury there's no chance of overblowing our usage $, and the holidays mean a lot of empty air to fill.

So... Updates. I've doing pretty well with my manips (see above) even though that gallery idea faded into nothingness. Coding always seems to do that to me: it's slippery stuff. May as well post some now, for the benefit of the world and whoever's watching.

Another blue one - all the others have had text added. Images from sxc.hu

School, as I mentioned, is on hold. I can't tell you how good that feels, though I imagine you know the sensation well enough anyway - no commitments, no responsibilities, no battery in the alarm clock. It would be heaven if not for the insanely gorgeous picture I found on morguefile the other day...

Image by franthony at morguefile.com

That is paradise as I imagine it. I'm not sure where the picture was taken, but maybe Dad saw omething like that on his travels round Europe this year. Dad: 2008, you're taking me! Design school can wait for the big Overseas Experience.
I want to see Egypt, Russia, Mont Blanc, Yugoslavia, Seattle, Peru, the Atlas Mountains, Tibet, the Serengeti Plains, the Amazon, the Yangtze, Mount Fuji, the Costa del Sol, the French Riviera, Uluru, Mumbai, Morocco, Switzerland, Mongolia, Moscow, Alaska, Norway, Denmark, Amsterdam, the Leaning Tower, the Bridge of Sighs, Gallipoli, Istanbul's Hagia Sophia, Algiers, Dunrobin Castle, the Great Wall of China, Hadrian's Wall, Rome, Cuba, Wales, Singapore, Shanghai, the Imperial Palace in Beijing, Tiananmen Square, Stalingrad, Madrid, Hawaii, Cyprus, Nuremberg, Kuala Lumpur, Malta, Petra... There's so much world out there! So much.

Right at this moment, people are seeing all of these places, or not seeing them in their familiarity just as I forget the wonders of New Zealand. At this exact time, there are people threading their way along the paths of the Black Forest, others climbing the steps of the Great Pyramid or having their photo taken in front of the Sphinx. Most of us share the desire to be a tourist, to explore spheres apart from our own - but not all act on their desires. I don't want to be one of those... I want to go and return, I want to see these things and take a hell of a lot of pictures.

Two things have happened recently which will help me get there, and though unimportant in a worldly sense I'm very grateful for them. First, the shearing boss who I worked for last Christmas spoke to Mum and said he's be very pleased to have me back. That means work for the holidays.
Second, my uncle has promised that he'll try to find me a job when I move up to Christchuch to attend the Design & Arts College. He works in Smiths City as (well here I get embarassed, because I'm not quite sure what he does)... something to do with computers. Inspiring, aren't I? xD The point is that I'll have an advertising job, however menial, while I take my courses. It'll help me figure out whether graphic design fits. Plus it'll provide some money, which is needed for big expensive travels! ^^

The last note is a sad one, something that... well, you can't describe it. You just can't.

My Grandad passed away 11 days ago.

I know, Dad, that you want to be here with us. But I'll write something for you, in memory of Grandad: a memorial, a tribute for a man who meant so much to so many people. He was never less than the best he could be... He instilled in us all respect for the human race, belief in our own values, and an uncompromising spirit. He was truly great.

The next post will be a tribute to Grandad. Hope you stay well till then and don't suffer anything like we have in the last couple of weeks. Goodbye.

P.S. We met Grandma and your father at the funeral. They looked good and cheered us up immensely; it was wonderful to see them. Grandad's bought you some sheep. Aunty Marion was there as well, and Uncle John, Aunty Francie, Rose, Nick, Kezzy and Shiloh. They all said hello. Now have fun in Scotland!

Drumroll

2006-06-03T13:01:00.000+12:00

Maybe not worthy of a drumroll, but there you are.

This is a little bit of an email I sent to Dad on Thursday (he's great for hearing rants). Love you! The end's a bit sudden because of annoying bell-like things which compell you to go to your next class. Such things should be thrown overboard.

"We're doing the Hitler thing in History. 'Tis very interesting, but sad of course. Anyway, I've started reading a historical narrative of the siege of Stalingrad which Mr Fielding recommended to all 'booky' people. It's a bit masculine (read: unemotional) but good. The only slightly distracting thing is that when I come across a quoted source it automatically gets noted... grrrrr, school indoctrination... I can't stop myself thinking 'That's a primary source! That's good research! I should do that!'

We devoted an entire class to the study of why he was 'evil' a few days ago. I know there could be much longer spent on that - much, much longer - but what we did do was very interesting. It's 'breaking down the cardboard cutout', the 'epitome of evil'. I think now that he was a fanatic. He wasn't essentially evil, but capable of it and possessed of the kind of thinking that justified brutal action.

Oooh, speaking of justifying absurdities: The National Front! They're insane! Some of what they say makes sense (mainly observations on the inter-racial resentment in Britain) but the way they want to fix it! "Black people are naturally less intelligent than whites. Promoting them into positions they are unequipped to handle does nothing but breed confusion and resentment in their minds." Essentially, it is more humane (whitely humane) to attempt to keep the 'poor little stupid negroes' totally ignorant! That's disgusting! I was dying to write a blog entry about it but couldn't find enough internet time. They've been saying these things for 50 years. They're still saying them, and they must believe that they're right. They're just like you, and me, and Stalin and Hitler: perfectly justified in their own minds of their own beliefs. See: I believe what I just wrote. I've justified it to myself. Everybody does it... evrybody's the same. What we believe dictates our actions, and whether we are honest and true to our beliefs or not has no impact on the way they affect others. A man who believes in his heart that Jews should be killed and acts on that produces exactly the same result as a man who believes in his heart that Jews should be protected and kills them anyway.

It's mind control! It's Hitler and the Reichswehr. It's the Americans and their forces. It's Communist Russia and the Red Army (though they did lose 50,000 through desertions on one German front alone). It's the Dalai Lama and the Buddhist faith. It's all the authors you've ever read, all the people you've ever met, even me now. Mr Fielding acknowledged it yesterday, this eternal brainwashing. He said that if Hitler had died after the conquest of France, he would have been hailed as the greatest German politician of the century. He would be an example of quality statesmanship, with those little indiscretions against the Jews (denied the opportunity to evolve into fully-fledged genocide) would be overlooked."

Media Studies

2006-05-22T18:24:00.000+12:00

Totally swamped with homework, just posting some layouts for Media Studies so I can get at them from the school computers... I'm quite proud of them. ^^

Option A: Colourful and a touch of futurism.

Option B: Limited palette, classic.

Trinkets

2006-04-15T18:49:00.000+12:00

Just some random stuff with minimum ceremony. Enjoy!

Piccolo at Christmas time. This is probably the best he's ever looked. ^^

Half of a Cadbury chocolate bunny
Mandarin-filled chocolate egg
Muesli
A handful of cashew nuts

The last four things I ate. It's Easter. Don't judge me! :P

The view west from Dad's back door, Canterbury.

"All the lessons of history in four sentences:
Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad with power.
The mills of God grind slowly, but they grind exceedingly small.
The bee fertilizes the flower it robs.
When it is dark enough, you can see the stars."
- Charles A. Beard

The shearing gang at Tiramoana, Canterbury. I got to work with these guys for a few days as a shedhan. It was great. Mind-numbing, but great.

"In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.
The lamp of my soul dyes your feet, the sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
oh reaper of my evening song,
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!

You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's
wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.

You are taken in the net of my music, my love, and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begin."

"In My Sky at Twilight" by Pablo Neruda, from the Spanish-English book I was reading while shed-handing.

An abstract net-curtain creation of my sister's.

Our new kittens, Molly and Ziggy. The dogs haven't bothered them much so far. ^ - ^

James Blunt - Wisemen
Al Stewart - Year of the Cat
Red Hot Chilli Peppers - Higher Ground

The last three songs played on my MP3 player. <3

"The remarkable thing is that we really love our neighbor as ourselves: we do unto others as we do unto ourselves. We hate others when we hate ourselves. We are tolerant toward others when we tolerate ourselves. We forgive others when we forgive ourselves. We are prone to sacrifice others when we are ready to sacrifice ourselves."
- Eric Hoffer

My sis again.

amnesty.org
makepovertyhistory.org
deviantart.com

Three websites I think you should visit.

Photo taken out the car window on the way back down to Dunedin, around Rakaia.

That about does it. =) Hopefully there are no major code screw-ups. Have a good day!

Rainiac & Disney

2006-04-10T17:19:00.000+12:00

Yes, I did spell that correctly. You try coming up with a catchy title after 8 weeks of schoolwork. :P *cue hundreds of people around the world rolling their eyes and saying 'she has no idea'*

I know. I know I have no idea... and I've decided that's my philosophy. There is more to know than can ever, ever, ever be known - something along the lines of The Lion King's "There is more to be seen than can ever be seen, more to do than can ever be done." Go Elton John. You said it.

From the day we arrive on the planet
And blinking, step into the sun
There's more to be seen than can ever be seen
More to do than can ever be done

Some say eat or be eaten
Some say live and let live
But all are agreed as they join the stampede
You should never take more than you give

In the circle of life
It's the wheel of fortune
It's the leap of faith
It's the band of hope
Till we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the circle, the circle of life

Some of us fall by the wayside
And some of us soar to the stars
And some of us sail through our troubles
And some have to live with the scars

There's far too much to take in here
More to find than can ever be found
But the sun rolling high through the sapphire sky
Keeps great and small on the endless round

Yay Disney!!! See, that's what's missing now from all those stupid kids' movies - there's no magic. There's no Beauty and the Beast (most gorgeous movie ever), no Pocahontas, no Mulan or Aladdin or The Little Mermaid. They're what I love about being young, being able to curl up under a big fluffy rug on a rainy Saturday afternoon and sit for hours watching Mulan fight the Huns, or seeing Pocahontas the Indian princess fall in love with John Smith and his wavy blonde hair. Kocoum!!! Damn I loved that guy. [Explanation: the Indian brave who was to marry Pocahontas before she met John Smith. Was killed by a British sailor while protecting his people from the 'white demons'.]
About three or four years ago, my sister and I rented those two movies from the video store and watched them 4 times each over a two-day period. It was bliss. ^ - ^

16 is a wonderful age for me. I like it. I think I'll keep it. Now, because I just googled 'Pocahontas' and came up with all manner of depressing websites, I will add that stuff like that doesn't need to be historically accurate. It's the magic that's important, the positive messages that come through about spirit and kindness and being a good person. It's beautiful, and innocent; it's the stuff inside us that we used to bathe in but now struggle to touch. We need more Disney movies, more of whatever it was that charmed you in your youth. Go out, watch them again. Bring marshmallows, curl up in the warm or stretch out on some sunny couch with whatever or whoever else would make you happy. It's good for you - just do it with an open heart, and I guarantee you'll feel better. ^ - ^ And everyone could do with some feeling better...

Ha, the stuff that'll fall out of your head when you start typing... Blogs are great. ^^

Poetry Appreciation Day

2006-03-25T19:20:00.000+12:00

Seamus Heaney - Follower

My father worked with a horse-plough,
His shoulders globed like a full sail strung
Between the shafts and the furrow.
The horse strained at his clicking tongue.

An expert. He would set the wing
And fit the bright steel-pointed sock.
The sod rolled over without breaking.
At the headrig, with a single pluck

Of reins, the sweating team turned round
And back into the land. His eye
Narrowed and angled at the ground,
Mapping the furrow exactly.

I stumbled in his hob-nailed wake,
Fell sometimes on the polished sod;
Sometimes he rode me on his back
Dipping and rising to his plod.

I wanted to grow up and plough,
To close one eye, stiffen my arm.
All I ever did was follow
In his broad shadow round the farm.

I was a nuisance, tripping, falling,
Yapping always. But today
It is my father who keeps stumbling
Behind me, and will not go away.

[For Mr Wallace. ^^ Hi Dad! Usted tienen gusto de Europa?]

silkenthread.net

2006-03-13T18:38:00.000+13:00

Into the Light - from sxc.hu and silkenthread.net

"Gorgeous, isn't it?" she says, desperately trying to multi-task and ignoring for the moment that she's talking about herself in the 3rd person. All this hot oil can't be good.

By John Frenzel of silkenthread.net

So dinner is done, and since I am home alone you guys get to hear about it. ^ - ^
Thought of now: there are so many things fluttering around inside people's heads, the little vague impressions, the tiny nubs of ideas and speculations that it's almost impossible to believe anyone could ever really know them all. How much could you ever learn about a person?

silkenthread.net gallery o2

They're just beautiful. "For everything that lives is holy, life delights in life."- William Blake

The Karma Collective

2006-03-06T19:30:00.000+13:00

I did something. A little something, but a start - it's called The Karma Collective [www.karmacollective.blogspot.com].
It will be an outlet for all the good you yearn to do (and you should do good even if you don't yearn ^ - ^): lists of charities and community groups all around the world, guides (or links to guides - I'm not exactly a scientist) to issues like global warming, AIDS, human rights violations, pollution, nuclear energy and exploitation. There will be no political references, just ways to help.

If anyone has anything they think would improve the site, comment loudly! Capital letters would help. :-) [Dad, that means you too.]

Back onto the internet, and the thoughts that piled up:

2006-03-01T22:12:00.000+13:00

For the blog, written offline on Wednesday 6th of February 2006

Jukebox: Dr Feel Good

Books of the Moment: Troy – David Gemmell

The glory of accepting into your heart men of honour, men of battle and grit and steel, is a pleasure that only the most cynical – or righteous – among us can deny. The soul yearns to see good prevail, yet is strangely entertained when it does not, perhaps feeding some pessimistic desire to know what is coming. Defeat is true – but is it?

It seems to me that clichés, empty, formless and bland as they are, must at one time have sprung from something more. What poet, when speaking of true love, can deny the truth of phrases that had before conjured no more than apathetic confusion? I am getting too complicated – back to the book, to Troy and all those wonderful familiarities.

The Prince, Lord of the Silver Bow, Helikaon or Aeneas, struggling to reconcile the two halves of his character, courageous, loyal and just, hard and possessed of a simple sensitivity. He loves a woman promised to another, Andromache, a redheaded hunting goddess with a strong face and quick mind. Hektor, the hero whose name is still known to us, blond-headed and invincible, the thief of Helikaon’s love, but unaware; the solitary legend Argurios, heeding his code of honour with unbending devotion, finding at last both a cruel twist of fate and happiness undreamed of. There are Kings savage, worthy and cunning, acts of valor and revenge that continue unending. We discover cities roofed in gold, the mighty strain of timbers over open sea, blades shining in the sun, the euphoria of love and biting loss of death.

When the soul is willing, such tales are absorbed with the greatest ease: though bloodthirsty they may be (and this one is not) they speak to the common threads inside us all. There are challenges to overcome, inner strengths to be exposed, and a treasure bright and clean that escapes from the wreckage of war to call us forward and lift our hearts. Somehow, blood spilt can be forgotten, the simple joy of victory can be more pressing than the broken lives left behind. The characters come to embody eternal themes, foreign and glorious: for these are tales of heroes, and such should never be left untold.

These last few nights, I have thought. I have embraced my vulnerability, and wept to understand that all others in this world are built the same. Somehow, when it is dark and quiet, I can feel within me a part without defences: I have felt the breath enter my lungs, the softness of the cotton pillow against my cheek, and known the truth of our existence. We exist, but so delicately – we all must breath to stay alive, and no man, no woman, can escape the precarious greatness of humanity. Before going to bed, I had glanced at a page in one of the self-help books my mother is so fond of, and it had slipped unknown into my heart. I thought little of it at the time, registering no more than a fleeting sense of futility… but, at night, it opened a door within my mind. It was this, rewritten in good faith and in hope that it may help (if little comes from reading it do not worry, for I have a feeling that each person must find their own way).
It laid down the simple rules which govern the lives of our bodies and all that works to complete them, the cells which die and are then replaced. It was alarmingly basic, fundamental... That each would give their lives in service of a greater good (cells dying to help build our bodies), that each found sustenance in giving and benefited from a collective effort (the root of communism?). I wish I had the book to hand, but Mum's given it to her friend to read.

Though it did not occur to me for long moments, the vulnerability I felt, the sense of consciousness and connection with every other moving, breathing human on this planet, was in step with that philosophy. With each passing second more was revealed to me, simple truth I had ignored: and it was this. Every one of the emotions I had ever undergone, every chill of fear, sickening touch of inadequacy, pang of remorse for speaking sharply, beam of pure joy at finding kindness, were shared. Not just me, but billions of people all over this world were experiencing these emotions, or others, at the same instant. They lived, they breathed, they smiled and cried and moaned in pain.

It struck me. They were looking at the world through eyes like mine, or touching it with the same skin: every person I had ever seen, on news bulletins, walking down the high street, driving cars on the motorway, existed. The homeless were ravaging through bins for a scrap to eat. The addicted were feeding their bittersweet thrill, the bereaved were rocking back and forwards, their faces crumpled in pain. The powerful were sitting around polished tables; there were executives nervously giving presentations, teachers facing their first classes. Somewhere, someone had just given birth. Elsewhere, another had lost their parents.

Lying there, I realized that others felt my ache. The fact of people suffering, suffering with true and blinding hurt, occupied other minds. They had wept over it, as I was, or strove deeper and come to more understanding. Somewhere, somehow, the President of the United States was feeling the air on his skin, was inhaling the oxygen that nourished him as it did all. It hit me like a sledgehammer, that single name so easy to deride… He was moving now, his heart was beating, and he felt. One by one more names entered my mind, the rich and famous, the infamous, who before had seemed only creations of television screens and newspapers. Tony Blair. The man, the being, the human, stripped of the aura of power and left as no more than I, or my mother, or those I loved and believed in. Osama bin Laden, despised but determined, his muscles moving as did our own; the captives who were paraded before us and shot without regret. Or perhaps with regret, for before me now floated the faces of Al Q’aeda soldiers and I could not accept their soullessness. Kofi Annan. Muhammed Ali. Benito Mussolini. The singers you hear on the radio, Madonna and the nameless ones whose voices fade into the background.

Before this year I had flashes of appreciation for our humanity. I had told myself that we were all music, magic and light. Now I mourned for us, for what we were and what we will ever be. Self-interest propels us to live our lives, not precisely to ignore the outside world but not to confront it either: and this would be our death. We are so adept at closing our minds, at defending ourselves and projecting an image of strength to others, that we come to believe in our own invulnerability. It is a façade, yet it consoles us, and prevents us from ever accepting the suffering of others… and without accepting it, we cannot face it. The faces of the helpless plagued me, and my soul mirrored them; yet they still breathed, like me, like us, and while they breathed they were yet human.

This window is easy to close off. Self-preservation has made it so, for in exposing ourselves to the outside world we rock our belief in the invincible. It must stay open: it’s worthiness is really all there is. It is the greater cause, humanity is the greatest cause.

A week ago I read an article about global warming. Two studies had been released, of which I can remember one coming from the British government. It said we had 20 years to reduce carbon emissions before the temperature change became impossible to stop. They predicted a maximum temperature rise of 3º before the world became uninhabitable. The Gulf Stream would cease to be. Weather would be unpredictable and extreme. The sea would climb; cities would be flooded. “The vast majority of the human race would either be incredibly uncomfortable, or find the conditions too harsh to survive.” One of the most prominent scientists said that we could face a death toll of 1 billion within the next century… and it was printed on the 4th page. I forget what was on the cover. That same night, the late news had a piece on it. The newsreader spoke in the same voice she used for house fires and traffic jams. I want to think that there are companies, people devoting their lives to this. I believe there are. And they will have to save us, for none, none seem concerned. We live our lives, we feel sad over the death of our countrymen while brutally declaring hatred for the countrymen of others, and run sacrilegious cartoons citing ‘media freedom’. This may be our golden age…

Deep inside me there is a part that draws the curtains, whispering subtle messages of instinctive protection, the self-serving core that I despise. I hate that part of me, though I know I must accept it, for it talks of simple survival. Survive by blocking out the misery, eat and breathe and raise a family. It is the foundation of our animal nature, the instincts that have kept us alive through millennia – and yet it is not enough. I found my path in those nights, and now I must summon the courage to follow it.

Here the words ran out. I have made absurd plans, hoping to attract the attention of people in power. Surely Richard Branson would be interested in alternative fuel sources to offset the loss of oil and decrease carbon emission? Surely Oprah could urge her millions of followers to rethink their consumption, to help fight the battle before us? I do not know what to do, beyond taking a Foreign Affairs / Int. Relations degree at uni in the hope that I can help in the future. Maybe making another blog once back online, purely to spread the message about global warming - to reach people that way.
Ending these kinds of posts is never easy, though to write it has been simply to put words to my feelings. Fare well, for you are one of us, and may we all live happily ever after.

At school

2006-02-23T12:29:00.000+13:00

[this post is befuzzled, but I shall leave it like it is... rushed thoughts, garbled...]

location: computer room at school
time: 12:13pm
what the...: it's study time, when the classes are split up and we are given a period to do research, homework, anything schoolish really. Obviously that's not quite what I'm doing.
I don't want to be self-centred, but I think I am.
I know there is a core of survivalism inside people, those instincts passed down through the generations - through evolution - which enable us to survive. It's basic, reactionary and vital... But sometimes it just sickens me. Within me, at the core, I found not the desire to improve our world but to improve my life (which is kinda crazy because when you think about it because helping other people makes you feel better about yourself, makes you feel worthy, boosts everything which makes life worth living).
A couple of days ago when doing homework for my Journalism class I came across an interview with Queen Rania of Jordan. In the last paragraph of the story, she said something which made me think: the kind of statement that you want to clasp to your heart. It went something like... "I don't believe happiness comes from within. I think you have to look outside yourself, to see whether you are making a difference." You have to ask yourself whether the world is better for having you in it.

My first day at work, Zorro and the buskers!

2006-01-22T18:51:00.000+13:00

The Buskers in Cathedral Square, Christchurch

So I had a snazzy title, and then I went to write... and it was horrible. So I think I shall return to the most succinct of entries:

Work -> Fulfilling.
The Legend of Zorro -> (this line pre-prepared, wait for it) All the best things in life: explosions, swords, hats (yes, hats!) and capes, not to mention racing through the desert on a black stallion, jumping onto a speeding train, and spectacularly finishing off the bad guy. Am trying to express how wonderful it was without sounding like Grandma, so... About half-way through, I was already fully aware of the fact that I would have to see it at least 4 more times. Somehow, each ludicrous act seems perfectly justified, explained, nay, required - Whoop! Zorrrrrrrrrro!
World Busker's Festival -> official site
Oh yeah! This was great, absolutely great (the extent of my eloquence today :-P). *sighs* Some of the best acts in the world performing in the Garden City's beautiful Cathedral Square, the Botanic Gardens, the Arts Centre... Next year I plan on bringing up a carload of friends from Dunedin. They must come - they will love it. ^ - ^

Quiz from deviantART

-----------

1. Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, and find line 4.
"He might do," Zangi-Ragozh said. "But it would be a dangerous..."
(Dark of the Sun - Chelsea Quinn Yarbro) V. v. good book.

2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can.
Just touched the computer screen...

3.What is the last thing you watched on TV?
The Amazing Race. It's still going. It's painful.

4.Without looking, guess what time it is
8:15pm

5.Now look at the clock. What is the actual time?
8:48pm

6.With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
Horrible whining!!! <-- TV

7.When did you last step outside? What were you doing?
I was walking into the house after coming home from the World Busker's Festival in Christchurch. Damn that thing was fun!

8.Before you started this survey, what did you look at?
An Adobe tutorial on how to make realistic fur here

9.What are you wearing?
Jeans and a white t-shirt which is a size too big.

10.Did you dream last night?
Yes!!! But I can't remember what about... *groan*

11. When did you last laugh?
When Mario Queen of the Circus went crowd-diving to the sound of "We Are The Champions" in Chch *laughs again thinking about it*

12. What is on the walls of the room you are in?
A phone and varying shades of pastel paint (my Dad was feeling creative)

13. Seen anything weird lately?
Mario Queen of the Circus, an Australian Frenchman riding a bicycle no bigger than his shoe through a flaming hoop, Mulletman juggling balls atop a 9-foot unicycle, and El Gleno Grande attempting to jump tiny little jumps on his stuffed horse. (I do not exaggerate.)

14. What do you think of this quiz?
Brilliant! Means I don't have to think of subjects!

15. What is the last film you saw?
The Legend of Zorro! I love this quiz! *cheers Antonio Banderas*

16. If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy?
Zorro. And then I'd donate half my money to charity. ^ - ^

17. Tell me something about you that I don't know.
Hmmm... I'm a Leo.

18. If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do?
Tolerance!!!

19. Do you like to dance?
Yes! I wuv it.

20. George Bush:
Save me from humanity...

21. Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?
I don't know. Possibly Arianna - but I hate thinking about stuff like that. Makes me afraid I'll jinx it.

22. Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?
Beaver. (Not seriously, lol - then it would be Macintosh.)

23. Would you ever consider living abroad?
I have, more often than is healthy: top picks are Norway, Spain and Switzerland.

24. What do you want God to say to you when you reach the pearly gates?
I forgive you for not believing in me. Welcome to heaven. Would you like a cookie?

Whaling won't stay dead

2006-01-19T23:08:00.000+13:00

I don't know what to do about this Japanese whaling thing. I don't know what to think - or rather, I know what I think, and am uncertain of its fairness. Perhaps it isn't as big a story overseas as here in NZ, just a few hundred kilometres from the controversy... But Japan has been killing minke, humpback and fin whales in the waters around Antarctica, ostensibly for 'scientific' purposes. They plan to take 935 minke whales, as well as humpback and fin. 935 minke whales! Whales!

*possible, rather sarcastic rant ahead*
Other than the instinctive, righteous disgust at seeing anything as noble and rare as these creatures slaughtered, the justification given by JARPA seems glaringly suspicious. 'Scientific purposes'. Okay...
The Japanese behind the whaling declare, in a response to enquiries, that "Our research is perfectly legal in every aspect referred to by anti-whaling opponents and scientifically necessary to ensure the best decisions can be made for sustainable resource management." Sustainable resource management. Sounds fine, even admirable. However, the Japanese are the only nation to require such large numbers of whales for these tests - over 1000 in a single year. 1 whale is a magnificent thing, a wonder steadily disappearing from the world - to kill 1000 of them? To kill humpback whales? To begin the slaughter of such harmless, awe-inspiring mammals? Both humpback and fin whales are under risk, classified as vulnerable and endangered: so why exactly are such relatively large numbers required? Could it be, that among the almost seven thousand already taken since the anti-whaling laws came into effect 18 years ago, that they are missing some special whale? Are 7000 not enough, I ask? Do whales, with their naturally long life span, change so much within a year that 1000 more are needed? Did the Japanese laboratories trying to discover means of 'sustainable resource management' miraculously misplace some critical part of every single whale they have already taken? Did they take notes so messily they feel it necessary to begin again?

Perhaps my entry is unfair... but half-way through the article I read this morning, already questioning, I came across something else.
In the 31 years before whaling was declared illegal, the number taken by the Japanese for scientific research globally was 840. Less, in 31 years, than the total for 2005 alone. After commercial whaling was banned, these numbers rose fast. Why the increase? Why, when 840 whales had been considered enough to satisfy the scientist community, did their research suddenly require the ruthless slaughter of thousands? What knowledge is so important that it cannot be gained from scanning the brains of 100 whales, but demands 1000?

I do not blame anyone but those in command. The issue of legality is a critical one, but I do not know enough to discuss it, and so must stay within the bounds of moral disagreement. Their actions, to me, send a clear message, and show a group which is disgracefully manipulating the law to reduce the already declining numbers of some of the world's most magnificent creatures.
Once these whales are gone, there will be no more. To see one sacrificed before your eyes to research in which you have no faith is harrowing, shameful... and yet those responsible have a legal shield to hide behind, and are free to ignore concerted efforts against them.

Perhaps a post like this needs a disclaimer: and so, the information cited was taken from The Press, a Christchurch newspaper. The facts may be a little out (journalists, bloggers) but the point is the same. See here for ways to help.

Stag in the land of LOTR

2006-01-17T19:50:00.000+13:00

Image (c) Psycho Llama - photography - deviantART folio

A friend of mine took this at Deer Park Heights in Central Otago and managed to get it in a museum exhibition - she's very talented. ^ - ^

Something Found

2006-01-14T19:53:00.000+13:00

People like to talk about themselves, I suppose. Forum threads with titles like 'All About YOU! Yes, YOU!' have instant appeal. "Oh, me? Me!" A chance to blab! (Blinding irony... just look away. *hehe*)

The thing is, other people are amazingly interesting. Not the stupid, bland small talk or empty words that occur before the ice is broken - but the things that mean something to them: the stories that have impacted on their lives, their quirks, the memories that bring a smile to their faces. To your face, as you read this. Every story they have (well maybe not every story)... or rather, the way they tell it, the views they take, the way they see the world. Listening to the perceptions of others is like living another life: it gives you the chance to widen your horizons, to embrace differences, to experience new things and appreciate them with changing eyes. That's why books are fantastic; that's why I love listening to my grandparents and hearing their stories. The lives of the elderly are full of experience - why not share it? Why not use those hard-won lessons to improve your own life? It helps humans to share their souls...

It may even help to determine why you think the way you do. What exactly is an apple to you? What does it look like? Which feelings does it conjour - which associations are awakened?
It reminds me of red red roundness, the bitter tang of skin and the sweet grainy flesh inside. It reminds me of tall bottles of apple juice in the cool of my father's fridge, of lukewarm drinks in Mum's pantry... And through Mum I remember Nana, and sunsets, and the smooth wood of our cupboard doors. I remember kids laughing in Mr Crawford's Science class when he told us that apples were plant ovaries; and I remember that even after he died I still had trouble picturing his face. I remember watching Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote tapes pilfered by the student teacher and the stifling heat of being kept inside on sunny days - not that there are many in Dunedin.

Conclusions for this are hard - how do you conclude something you didn't even intend to write? Thoughts run away with me sometimes. Anyway, I'm glad you finished this post. I'm impressed. ^ - ^

Test results

2006-01-13T23:26:00.000+13:00

Advanced Global Personality Test Results

Extraversion	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	36%
Stability	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	73%
Orderliness	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	43%
Accommodation	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	56%
Interdependence	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	63%
Intellectual	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	83%
Mystical	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	56%
Artistic	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	70%
Religious	\|\|\|\|	16%
Hedonism	\|\|\|\|	16%
Materialism	\|\|\|\|\|\|	30%
Narcissism	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	50%
Adventurousness	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	50%
Work ethic	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	56%
Self absorbed	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	56%
Conflict seeking	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	43%
Need to dominate	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	36%

Romantic	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	56%
Avoidant	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	50%
Anti-authority	\|\|\|\|\|\|	30%
Wealth	\|\|\|\|\|\|	30%
Dependency	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	50%
Change averse	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	56%
Cautiousness	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	56%
Individuality	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	43%
Sexuality	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	76%
Peter pan complex	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	56%
Physical security	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	70%
Physical Fitness	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	44%
Histrionic	\|\|\|\|\|\|	30%
Paranoia	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	36%
Vanity	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	43%
Hypersensitivity	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	50%
Female cliche	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	56%

Take Free Advanced Global Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

Hmmmmm...

'Down By Law' & the Crown Range

2006-01-11T23:31:00.000+13:00

"Hey little birdy, fly away home / Your house is on fire, children are alone / Hey little birdy, fly away home / Your house is on fire, your children are alone..."
- Jockey Full of Bourbon, Tom Waits

Can't get that damned song out of my head! Ever since I heard it at the start of Down By Law it's been bouncing around my mind, that silly growling rumble of a voice impossible to dislodge. "Hey little birdy..." *exasperation*
The movie itself was interesting (most of the time), shown in black and white with Tom Waits himself, Roberto Benigni and John Lurie in the main roles as vaguely innocent prisoners who meet in a Louisiana jail, suffer each other's company for an undisclosed amount of time, and then fumble their way into an escape. Benigni was wonderful. ^ - ^ There were some moments when I almost fell asleep (especially at the beginning) but watching three men parade round a tiny cell shouting "I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice-cream" over and over was enough to make everyone watching grin rather broadly. That and Benigni practising his English on his new prison buddies: "If looks could kill, I am a-dead now." I've read some reviews which call this film a thing of beauty, and I suppose it might be, in a slow and vague kind of way (vague, not dreamy). There's no trace of anything which really marrs story-telling... no brutality, no coarseness or painfully obvious ploys. Maybe it's the deliberate obscurity which is it's attraction; that and the unobtrusive, well-trained touch that teases events into place. It never really trips, just flows along with a strange kind of off-beat grace. Down By Law is what it is... a 'neo-beat-noir-comedy' as described by director Jim Jarmusch. [Full article here] Not that I understand it.

View from the Crown Range towards Lake Hayes, near Queenstown NZ

This was Day 4 (I think) of our most fantastic trip round New Zealand. The landscape was amazing, amazing, amazing... Yes, that amazing. The panorama may give some sense of what it was like to stand there, on the side of a road which wound it's high-altitude way from Wanaka along rugged hill roads just recently sealed, through a vista bare save for tussock... But it was the size of things which hit me, and that isn't so easily conveyed. It was beautiful, almost alien despite the many times we've travelled that way: an alpine world of rock and cloud, towering juggernauts which cradle this beautiful valley like protective brothers. Queenstown is directly behind the sunlit hill on the left, the shimmering expanse of Lake Wakatipu southwards and hidden by the ridges at the back of the picture. Skippers Canyon is off to the right, Wanaka some distnace behind.

Now that low-pitched grating tune is back in my head, and I think it's time perhaps to get some sleep. (Late night is the only time the computer in this place is free.) "Hey little birdy, fly away home: your house is on fire, your children are gone..."

Return

2006-01-10T23:20:00.000+13:00

Whoop! Blog is fixed! ;-D <-- (That's a really happy smiley face, if case it needed translating)

I've been skipping through lists on Amazon after looking up Novalis and found around 300 authors I'm dying to get to know: Dante, Aldo Busi, Whitman, Rimbaud, Mary Gentle, Goethe, Virginia Woolf... *sigh* OK, so that's not 300 but the whole list takes up a lot of room. Now, to complete my lovely flight off into intellectual fantasyland (only slightly negated by the sounds of INXS and Rooster in the background)... I found an ancient copy of Milton's poems at a second-hand bookstore in Timaru. Ah, that wonderful old-book smell... It's gorgeous, the kind of thing you just want to frame and hang on your wall, all gilded edges and embossing and coloured borders. It has the entire text of Paradise Lost and all his other works (in English, Latin and Italian) and a story of his life; much better than the copies I was looking at in modern bookstores, and about $50 cheaper! ^ - ^

Oh, more wordy stuff: have been devouring the library lately so there are a whole lot more 'books of the moment' in the sidebar. Holidays are great for lazing around, and that teenage routine of sleep till 10, stay up until midnight has a lot going for it. *winces* Hmmm, perhaps a job is needed...

I was gonna give an account of our five-night adventure through the South Island *look up* but I think it may be a little late for that... So I'll leave with a "Yay! Online again!" and I hope you had a great Xmas.

The eve has come... late night Dec 24th

2005-12-24T23:10:00.000+13:00

It's too late to write: I just wanted to wish everyone a Merry Christmas. ^ - ^

Update

2005-12-20T10:43:00.000+13:00

Inspiring title, isn't it?
I've learnt a lot from those irritating email fwds these last few days. I'm 'cool'. ;-) Hmmmmmmm. Well, that proves it. Irreputable evidence.(On the side: I'd be happy to give out 'cool' labels to anyone who wants one. Just don't tell on me, or I shall be damned!) *laughs*
Ahh! Mum's old-style Patti-Pagesque singers are horrible with a capital 'H' (and more than a few cliches). Ick! Ick! Ick! *pause* The ironic thing is that I'll probably end up liking them, enthusiastic as Mum is. We all become our parents eventually.

I don't feel like talking about myself today. It gets boring! Right, so on to... Art appreciation, with a few of the hundreds of fantastic pics that have gathered in our PC.

(c) Burton Pritzker - Steer #7 from 'Texas Rangeland'
His website had a lot of gorgeous, atmospheric work in black & white.

(c) apatrick - from 'covered up'
A FILE Gallery of the abstract beauty in covered-up graffiti-tagging.

(c) Huntingdon Witherill - Calla Lillies #27
Colour, light and form: natural photography beyond desciption.

(c) Angus Oborn - Jesus.
Simple appeal.

Xmas countdown: 5 days

Paradox appreciation

2005-12-14T23:25:00.000+13:00

manipulation by me ^^ & gallery coming soon!

I have the lingering feeling that perhaps adding 6 more hits to my webpage through editing isn't the best way to go about it.

It's too much. Israeli air strikes on Gaza got two paragraphs in the newspaper today. On page 4.
66 people have been killed in suidice bomb attacks in Iraq in the last three days. I'm almost glad the ODT doesn't run much of it: my head would explode. Surely there must be something good going on out there - what about the G8? That hasn't had setbacks, to my knowledge (which, obviously, isn't that broad).

Cynicism isn't healthy! *slaps hand* I'm going to stop right there. Back to my little world of holidays and venison sausages... paradoxes are too much. Another paradox. I think I'm growing to like them. (And even though the exact paradox isn't clear, I am unwilling to delve deep and find the words to explain them properly. You shall have to guess.)

Xmas countdown: 11 days

That's cheered me up a bit. ^ - ^ It's too late to be posting... *rubs eyes* *yawn*

The tree is up! We've decorated it with all the traditional stuff: tiny presents wrapped in tin foil, silver and gold baubles, tinsel, wooden bears, fuzzy woolen stocking made to hold the yummy homemade chocolates that come out of grandparents' kitchens this time of year. :-) At the very top is a gorgeous little teddy bear which looks a lot like a whippet... We're very fond of him. He's a lot lighter than the dove, too: the top branch doesn't keep falling down. --- FAMILY! --- Christmas!

I'm so much more normal than I thought I was... *shakes head* (Negative comment edited out for my own sanity.)

Ah, yes: image made! :-D My muse makes its return.

Present checklist:
Mum. Done.
Dad. Satisfied but awaiting further input.
Jessie. Done and done!
Hmmm... who else? Ah, cards for:
Aunty Pam / Alex
Aunty Lauren, husband and kids :-P
Whitney, Kathrin, Adele, Sarah, Sam, Alana, Andrew (?) and Nana.

Thoughts on human nature

2005-12-12T20:13:00.000+13:00

Sydney, Australia: "Thousands of young white men attacked people of Arabic and Mediterranean background on Cronulla Beach on Sunday.
The fighting injured more than 30 people, including police officers, and at least 16 people were arrested.
The clashes follow an assault on two lifeguards last week, reportedly by youths of Middle Eastern origin."

[ Full Article: BBC ]

What the hell is going on in this world? How is it that Australians can return to the white-power, mob mentality we all hoped had been left behind? Can't humans, even being human, move beyond secular thinking? It's disgusting!!! The idea of it happening just next door, in a country many New Zealanders see as family, is almost incredible. That 5000 bloody people could turn that way!!! It's as bad as the KKK thinking of 1950's America; blatant, unashamed racism. The rioters cited a belief that land belongs to one particular group, one particular race, and should be free of the "invasions" of anybody else. It's absurd! HOW can they blanket the innumerable differences in human personality under the cultural identity or appearance of a person??? HOW???
Even the generalisation I'm making now, talking of 'the rioters' as a single group with identical motivation, is flawed. What is not flawed is the fact that this behaviour does nothing but hurt, divide and ostracise parts of society. It almost does not matter what the intentions of those who took part were, when the outcome is this terrible. People, innocent people, could have been killed. Worse, prejudice and violence have provoked more prejudice and violence in return. Can those men and women who cornered victims on the street, who set on strangers in gangs of a dozen or more, who beat a woman for merely speaking, not see that they are acting the same as the very worst of human rights abusers in the 'middle-eastern' world they claim to refuse??? The willingness to hurt other people, to cause other, innocent people harm for an idea which has no basis in fact is the most frightening part of the human character. It's al-Qaeda. It is shallow, close-minded thinking.

Being white, black, asian, mexican, cuban, whatever, does not make you superior. In any way. You have no prior claim to land simply because of the colour of your skin. I believe that it means nothing: simple appearance tells no truth of a person's soul.

Many Australians are ashamed to be identified with those who took part in the riots. I am ashamed to be human; or rather, to be one and the same as those who refuse to learn the lessons of history. People have the capacity to amaze, to create works and do good beyond comprehension. Why do we insist on retreating into the closed, claustrophobic realms of belief? Do we mistake their suffocation for security?
Why do we always, always need an enemy?

To break down another is to break down yourself, to deride your very humanity. It is a mistake. More than the solid facts about refugees, the need for escape, the idiosyncracies of employment and impossibility of some situations, we need to realise this. There is no 'Us vs. Them'.
We're all us.

Photo blow-out

2005-12-08T18:06:00.000+13:00

What can I say? (Rather a lot, actually, as you can see if you care to scroll down.) I've been online for far longer than I should have been... *laughs* Well,I'll just update and then get off; maybe that way my sister won't be reduced to beating me with a rolled-up warehouse catalogue.

Scott Gordon Photography
www.sdgordon.com

Xmas countdown: 17 days

Clearance

2005-12-05T15:11:00.000+13:00

The LPHS senior year is officially over. It was an iffy day... Where'd all my happiness go??? Today I discovered that after years of having a best friend, someone who I could count on no matter what (my other half, you know?) I don't think I have one any more. I've got 3 good friends, but none of them are as close as I've been used to. It's kinda strange.
I've decided not to be slack these holidays. Might go woolhandling with Dad (farm work in Canterbury) or... *considering conspicuously absent options* hmmm. I will go woolhandling.
Dad, don't let me bunk out!!! No... me, don't bunk out!

I got invited to write an essay for the Rodney Walshe Ireland Essay Competition next year; shall work on it over the holidays. Ah, sweet something-to-do-with-my-time... (Can't think of the right word *whacks head*) It's appreciated, anyway. The top prize is is a trip to Dublin in July 2006 to stay with an Irish family for three to four weeks and attend summer school; 2nd and 3rd are Waterford crystal. Up-market stuff. ^ - ^ Probably the best bit is that the conflict in Ireland at the start of last century was an NCEA topic in History this year, so I have some knowledge to work from. Mr Wallace suggested the spread and influence of Irish culture worldwide (which connects on to background info about the Potato Famine, hehe) and I might do that. Maybe the Catholic/Protestant thing, though how I'd have no clue how to fit that into 1200 words; a girl from LPHS last year did Sinn Fein, so that's out. *thoughtful face*
Having a purpose is wonderful. ^ - ^

Xmas countdown: 20 days

above image (c) annette botarro-walklet

Dali's 'St Jacques Le Grand'

2005-11-29T16:42:00.000+13:00

I was aiming for a longer post but Mum's kicking me off the internet. *scrunches up nose* I'm in the mood to laugh at that. Now we should have some spare time to sit down and watch the David Gray concert DVD she borrowed from Chris. :-)

XMAS countdown: 33 days

Classics

2005-11-25T14:48:00.000+13:00

I discovered a 'Top 100 Love Song' bargain-bin CD of my mother's and so now I'm typing away to the sound of Mozart's 'Eine Kleine Nachtmusik - Romance' (as it says on the back cover). :-) It's beautiful. Kinda puts me in the mood to read some 17th century romance... and if I drank wine now would be an excellent time to bring it out. I feel very girly.
Ah, Fur Elise! I used to beg my old piano techer to play this for me. It was amazing, skipping from the stilted rhythms of my practice jingles to that beautiful lilting melody. I loved it. ^ - ^
I wish I had a piano - ah, but no! I have a keyboard that was a gift from my grandparents hidden under my bed, and almost two months of free time to practise. I hereby declare that I will be able to play at least 10 seconds of 'Fur Elise' by the end of January (and without laying fingers to a keyboard in about a decade).
This is my new favourite CD... Pachelbel's 'Canon' has just finished. It's gorgeous...
Bach! :-D This music seems to call for warmth, wide open ballrooms, gowns of silk and brocade; for paintings by Rembrandt gracing gleaming, wood-panelled walls...
*an hour or so later* I've been browsing the Museum Art section of allposters.com (the good ones I go off and find in better quality elsewhere). The classical CD is on its second run-through, after a gap for a bit of Aerosmith - I've found a favourite, Love Story by Lai, and rediscovered just how much I love Monet. Mum's driven to port to return Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet to the public library and buy fish 'n' chips for Friday tea. ^ - ^
Corot! Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot! I'd never heard of him before today, but I love his landscapes. They're full of light and natural beauty, art which captures the inherent magic of a place. I'll stick one in for you.
Now I think it's time to go play with photobucket and upload some stuff. Thanks for reading. ^ - ^ Bye!

Website plan

2005-11-20T15:36:00.000+13:00

No time to type: the All Blacks are on. This is what my gallery will look like when finished; the measurements are from a template but all the graphics were done on Elements (hopefully no major mistakes). ^ - ^

A weekend of silence

2005-11-19T19:30:00.000+13:00

There is no-one here but me. It's a very strange feeling, made just a little bit more normal by the sound of the Stereophonics blaring from the sound system... I like it.
*Happily munching on Moroccan Tagine stir-fry* And I didn't even forget to turn off the gas cooktop. :-)
Oooh! Franz Ferdinand at the Big Day Out!!!!! I am so envious... Franz in NZ!!! It's brilliant! ^ - ^ The tickets are way too expensive for me (student) but the national music channel will broadcast it a few days afterwards. *gazes off into space* Ah, Franz. It's a thing.
Mmmm, peas in the pod are so good just cooked and crunchy...
I have started brainstorming for possible construction of an online gallery for pics like the one above (made on Adobe Elements and Paintshop). Should be great - the next post'll be a plan of the layout. :-)
Oh, I love this song: INXS's Never Tear Us Apart. For some reason, Rock Star: INXS just didn't manage to give this one it's proper dues. (They did have Dave Navarro, though *grins* so we'll forgive them.) Is it my imagination or have Limp Bizkit screwed with Bittersweet Symphony? *puzzlement* Why? Silly things. Hey! Blur! :-D This song is great. Have kinda just realized that my typing isn't quite keeping up with the changes on the radio... So I think we'll swap subjects. You guys have heard enough of my musical tastes by now anyway. ^ - ^
It's around now that the should-be-studying guilt comes out; this may have to be a shorter post than I'd planned. Just one last thing: algebraic graphs. Are they or are they not the most mind-bendingly frustrating mathematical device ever invented? (At L1 NCEA, anyway.) Beyond even the limits of my numbers tolerance... And I'm the geekiest girl in my class. ^ - ^
HA! No Maths next year!!! One more little exam, three hours total left of Maths work in my entire school life... *sighs*Art History rather than Maths. Exploring creativity and spirit rather than moving numbers around. The easiest trade ever made. :-D
(I'm pretty sure there's a contradiction in my thinking there, but it may be a couple of semi-realizations away and I really need to get back to New Zealand's Search for Security 1945-1985. Thrilling stuff.)
"For us, for them, for you." Bye! ^ - ^

Was that my English exam?

2005-11-16T19:14:00.000+13:00

I've been fussing with blog stuff and exploring Radio Paradise for hours now... I think I'm in shock.

That was strange - the first booklet went all right (Romeo + Juliet ^ - ^) but half-way through my long text response (3rd one up, Chinese Cinderella) the judgement bit of my brain seemed to detach. Dear Lord, I hope I didn't ramble. *crosses fingers* I think it was my normal kind of response, at least not much worse... Well, I know I passed. I've been passing these things all year - I just want Excellence!!! Excellence for Scholarship, and because I know I can get it; and because other people know I can get it too and I don't want to let them down. Ms Martin... I didn't see her today because we were trapped in the Learning Centre (big main bit where the exams are held) from 9:30 onwards, but Jessie said hello for me at Group. :-)
Back to that damn exam... The unfamiliar text (comprehension) part was more challenging than I thought it would be, asking questions about verbal techniques in an NZ soap opera called Shortland Street which has appaling dialogue and has been running for a decade over here. Pure home-grown talent, that is! How can you show that a block of speech has been planned instead of being written down as it was spoken? (Excluding rushed mistakes, etc: it was typed. ^ - ^ And they wouldn't let you cite using italics for stress either.) I had no clue about that one, just had to leave it and go on with the rest. It's only one mark lost, though; I answered everything else. :-)
Right! Well, that's all my English over with for the year. Is it weird that I want to cry? *sighs* 3 months now before my next class - and no Mr Wallace!!!! If I'm honest, that's what's ticking me off the most. Stupid... *frustration* And now I'm getting frustrated with myself as well. Me 'n' my Mum are so alike. *laughs* It's just that he's so easy to talk to (but then everyone finds him easy to talk to... I'm being stupid again). Oh, no, wait, I'm not. After all, it doesn't matter, right?
*re-reads entry* Oh crap... I'm leaving this subject.
:-) I'm listening to Radio Paradise online (link's over on the right) and they've just started playing Joe Cocker. My friend loves this guy... *chuckles* The DJ has an amazing voice; the epitome of American cool, twangy and deep and- you know what? Even better than Rick... Oh damn, what's his name? Rick Dees!!! ^ - ^ We used to get the countdown on Sunday mornings. Man, that was cheesy. *bites tongue* I think I might be a little off-centre today. Should probably go have a milkshake. Good day to all!

P.S. Changed the jukebox a little, added some links and did some other stuff I can't quite remember - almost 500 hits! Whoop! :-D

2005-11-15T10:56:00.000+13:00

Gorgeous artwork by Vlad Geanina Iustina, 'Red Rose'...

Yessy Gallery or ArtAreas.com

Tautuku

2005-11-14T16:15:00.000+13:00

Tautuku Bay, Catlins, Otago

This is the first decent pic of the place I've found it ages... *shakes head* Well, online anyway; I have a brilliant one stuck up next to me. :-)
Last year I went with my classmates to a camp just off to the right, in the trees, and spent a week doing outdoorsy stuff (our group did the most walking of anyone, lol - we were exhausted by the end). On our second-to-last day we did a five hour trek from the beach up to the hill to where the photo was taken, then back up north (the pic's looking south) and inland in a massive circle. The final hour was through gorgeous (wet) NZ bush and mud that was so deep we sank in almost to our knees. It was fantastic.

:-D I would upload some actual pictures from then, but this computer is agonizingly slow and I'm afraid the power supply couldn't handle it. *scrunches up nose* Silly thing.
Don't you just love camps??? (And I can just hear people moaning, even now... :-) I love them, anyway. Even if my bestish friend managed to stick her foot through a cargo net and we all got tired out and bitchy. It was fun. Sitting around a campfire with your mates at 11:30 at night, listening to murmurs from nearby tents and the crackle of logs bursting in the flames... Everything looks better by firelight. Noodles are a million times more satisfying if you're eating them with a plastic spoon in the bush - and need I even start about toasted marshmallows? Heaven on Earth! ^ - ^

I should really be studying right now, so I'll bottle up all my nostalgia for a bit. *deep breath* Exam on Wednesday.

Formal writing, here I come...

Email to Dad

2005-11-12T14:36:00.000+13:00

Warning: this is from an email to Dad and it's a little... unrestrained. ^ - ^

Guess what! I got all my 5 Excellences and Merit at Senior Prizegiving and everybody clapped spontaneously! Yay! :-D They did that too for Ash and Wei - they both got bucketloads. And we had fantastic music: Real Green Dress, LPHS band who are amazing (Neve Deighton-O'Flynn is the vocalist and she's very, very good) with electric guitar, kinda poppy-noveau: Neve even wrote the song. ^ - ^ Apparently the Principal's favourite school group (and there were significant whispers in the audience when she said that). *grins* Scandal!
Then there was a classical piece composed by Alex Campbell-Hunt called 'Spectrum' which was (ahh, too many superlatives) astounding. Yes, astounding. :-) It was gorgeous. Alex performed it in the piano with John and another guy on violins... Makes me so proud to go to the same school as them. Logan Park rocks!!! The jazz band played at the start and end, wonderful as always; and there was the orchestra performing the Shaft theme accompanied by one very brave singer and back-up girls - Tenor Eleven, the vocal group, sang with Bevan Gardiner who's blind and has the most beautiful voice: he sounded awesome. Bevan played lead guitar in Real Green Dress as well. :-D
We had the Honourable Pete Hodgson as guest speaker, MP for Land something and something else, Representative of Dunedin North in Parliament... Hmmmm... He was more charismatic than Ms Johnson (easily) but even when he was telling us to beware of arrogance he didn't manage to shrug off his own. A good speaker, funny - what I expected a politician to be I suppose. He wasn't magnificent, he'd just had more practice, and he didn't even bother to hide his boredom when the Principal was speaking - just told us when he stood up how glad he was to be here. Said it, but didn't show it. *shrugs* Meh. I may be the teensiest bit biased, but he wasn't as appealing as Mr Wallace. (Though, come to think of it, Mr Wallace seemed a bit odd last night - maybe because he's got no more classes this year, maybe because Ms Martin is leaving.)

Do you guys have the same rain we do at the moment? It's been suffocatingly muggy down here for the last few days, and it's still warm now even with the damp.
Oh, I forgot - for my English prize I got two books, Plumb by Maurice Gee and The Little Friend by Donna Tartt. Mr Wallace said I'd love them; I'm up to pg 110 in The Little Friend at the moment and it's definitely got something special about it. Hope I can write like that one day.
Now, that's enough I think. English exam on Wednesday! *shivers* I'm trying to talk Mum into grabbing Romeo + Juliet for me for some last-days revision. The exam itself starts at 9:30 Wednesday morning and goes through until 12:30... Shall catch the bus home I think. No more school for the whole year!!!! We get yearbooks on Clearance Day, the day after my Latin exam, December 3rd - that's when I shall say final goodbyes to Ms Martin. She's a fantastic Group teacher. ^ - ^ And a grandmother! Now she'll get to spend some more time with her family... We'll miss her though, and the chocolate cakes she bakes every Group party. (They are amazing chocolate cakes, a perfect example of how sweet she is.)

I had some strange thoughts yesterday, faced with whatever-the-hell-is-going-on in all my little affections... I think I might have a gift for that kind of thing. Silent, quietly embraced... And the truth is, I'm too sensible for this. That's why it's there. *shakes head* Reactions like that I can't control, though I try - and what I can control, the urges restrained, are what makes this strangeness what it is. It's weird being me in a 16-year-old's body. *laughs*

School?

2005-11-08T19:25:00.000+13:00

(poppy. o.O)

Hi!
Am listening to 'Lock Up Your Daughters' by End of Fashion on *drum roll* The Rock FM. Oooh, Daniel Carter voted as NZ's sexiest man. Lucky him.
*chuckles* Ah, I'm feeling weird today... A week till exams!
Would you dislike me if I just stuck in some more lyrics? Sometimes I get this way, when the most brainless songs seem more eloquent than whatever the hell else will come out of my head. I'm resisting, though: no Robbie Williams for you! *trying really hard* Yep. No lyrics.
There's a drawing by a friend by my PC, a phoenix created in ink and coloured pencil. She'll be famous one day, she will (and somewhere in my rather messy room I have a signed piece of paper which says so) and then that little pic will be worth mill- well, hundreds of thousands of dollars anyway. :-P When she drew it she was only 13... man that's an odd thought. What might be stranger though is the idea that I will be a Year 12 after Christmas (that's the second-last year of school in NZ) and so will some of the people in my class, those who I always thought would never grow up. One loud American Army-hopeful comes to mind. *shakes head* Well, he's crazy. And named after a angel - I just don't get it. :-) Anyway, being a Year 12 means that I have just one more year afterwards of secondary schooling - that's just one more year before uni! Or travel!!! We'll all be "adults" and off into the world... Do you remember that feeling? Can you imagine it?
Right now I'm safe, secure, without bills or debt or marital issues (*scratches head* ummm...?) or anything really significant to worry about. But once that buffer is gone... And again the scariest thought is that it's not just happening to me, it's happening to people I've grown up with. Seniors I remember from Year 7 have suddenly sprouted wings and flown away to Auckland, got a job in Queen St: they're doing degrees in business and psychology, law, biophysics, and, well, one of them is doing nothing but sitting in his house and killing brain cells. Girls that have been around me for the last 5 years straight, who I can recall playing hopscotch and writing crappy haikus, dressing up as faeries, playing tag in the fort - now they're gonna be seniors. Young adults... Writing essays, choosing careers, working 9 to 5 in some office somewhere, maybe even uprooting totally and making a new life somewhere else. We'll be split. That reassuring shield, that sense of returning always to a place where you know everybody, linked by a common interest, plagued by the same horrible teachers and impossible maths formulae, will be gone.
Ah, but maybe I'm getting ahead of myself here. After all, if these are to be our last years, shouldn't they be enjoyed? *thinking* Torturous exams, stressful studying... That's what being a student (at the end of an NCEA year anyway) is all about. It's my buffer!!! Studying over debt. (*grins* Or, at uni, studying and debt.) Reports and viral reproduction and SOH/CAH/TOA over having to worry about things like electrics, plumbing or tax returns. I think I like it this way.
*newly imbued with gratitude* 'Imbued'. :-D My Franz is suffering badly: been kicked out by the Wallflowers.
Now, I'm off to do some actual study and actually earn some self-satisfaction... and all without resorting to lyrics. ^ - ^

Hmm well other than losing sight of the babies...

2005-11-06T14:52:00.000+13:00

Wry and dishevelled

2005-11-06T14:30:00.000+13:00

I was going to write about a biography of Alexander the Great, but I found this online and it deserved a post as bare as possible. Read, and please think.

"There are children standing here,

Arms outstretched into the sky,

Tears drying on their face.

He has been here.

Brothers lie in shallow graves.

Fathers lost without a trace.

A nation blind to their disgrace,

Since he's been here.

And I see no bravery,

No bravery in your eyes anymore.

Only sadness.

Houses burnt beyond repair.

The smell of death is in the air.

A woman weeping in despair says,

He has been here.

Tracer lighting up the sky.I

t's another families' turn to die.

A child afraid to even cry out says,

He has been here.

And I see no bravery,

No bravery in your eyes anymore.

Only sadness.

There are children standing here,

Arms outstretched into the sky,

But no one asks the question why,

He has been here.

Old men kneel to accept their fate.

Wives and daughters cut and raped.

A generation drenched in hate.

Yes, he has been here.

And I see no bravery,

No bravery in your eyes anymore.

Only sadness."

- James Blunt, No Bravery

bump

2005-11-04T20:38:00.000+13:00

Hey peoples, it's been a while. :-)
Countdown to exams: 11 days. *deep breath*
*a great while later* Hmmm... this may be my shortest un-picture post in history. ^ - ^ Have goodness.

2005-10-29T20:28:00.000+13:00

One more pic of Queenstown. :-)

Hey guys! Audioslave's the soundtrack now, 'Like A Stone' on the national rock station. Hehe, stones and rocks... Oh don't read this, just look at the picture. Much more eloquent than I ever could be.

2005-10-25T22:53:00.000+13:00

A view of Glenorchy below Paradise, ahh so pretty; we stopped at this exact place too. :-D

Musings, an oh-too-often-used-word...

2005-10-25T22:23:00.000+13:00

So, I'm sitting here in my room at night, listening to Franz Ferdinand and thinking about English today. I have the best English teacher ever made!!! He's tall (always good) and nice and manages to be considerate in his talks with everyone: he loves language, he's smart, and he's funny. *coughs* Hmmmmm... next subject.
And what a next subject: Paradise. It's a spot in the central South Island of New Zealand where they did all the shooting for Lothlorien, Rohan and Gondor in The Lord of the Rings and it's beautiful almost beyond words. You must've all seen the film; it was as gorgeous, if not more, and so empty. We only saw a few trampers and jetboats up the Dart River when we were there. I've gotta post pictures - look up. In future piccies will be there, I promise. :-)
So, I've been blog-browsing, and no Dad they're not all druggies raving on about drugs and being waaaaaaay too explicit, *shakes head* Oh nonono, there are tons of good ones. Try The Center of the Center or Cogitatus Extrarius and then tell me there's no thought. I had a great poetry site too, but it's vanished into lost-link land along with that picture-making one with butterflies and arty words... If they're important fate will bring them back. :-) And no, I don't fanatically believe that: it's just a nice thought. ^ - ^
My 'n' is sticking! Silly keyboard. Unblessed with pleasing properties like that of certain curly-haired people, no matter how alarming their father may be. (Nothing to do with my English teacher.) Ah, I don't think I'll elaborate. On to something else. Mum's stolen the phone line, so it looks like this will have to sit in cyberspace for just a while longer.
*nostalgic squirm* I had to get up in assembly today. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be - ooh! I got an Excellence on my speech! Nobody out there will know what a big deal that is, but... I'm happy. :-D
Bloggers are a fantastic breed. So thoughtful, so varied and almost all of them love 'Life Is Beautiful'. That just says so much (contradiction with the 'varied' thing or not). So many views from so many different minds, all sitting out there like gardens planted, just waiting for someone to pass by. The Media Studies probe last term asked if any in the class were bloggers: I was too shy to raise my hand but he actually seemed quite enthusiastic. Now, if only comments were worth more than a perfunctory link to some spy-ware-filled site... Think how much we could learn!!! Ah, it's a day for English for me. I had an assessment due so was working all through Art and Maths (with the permission of one teacher, the reluctant supervision of the other) to get it on Mr Wallace's desk by 3:30. 4 credits for next year! 12905 completed! And damn 'Lukien' came back to me!!! (I had a hell of a time trying to remember that character's name, it's been so long since I finished the book. The Eyes of God by John Marco, by the way: it's good, deep and rich and guilty like the darkest chocolate. Just the hint of passionfruit too, just for a kick. :-) Oh, make that marbled chocolate, but without the sickly taste that comes with it. Or add a glass of chardonnay, something light and fresh. Even better, just eat dark chocolate to the sound of The Nutcracker Ballet and you'll have how I felt while reading that book. Or how I remember feeling. Or how I'm feeling now, remembering. I want sparkling grape juice. (No alcohol, oh no, not for me, poor little 16-year-old that I am. I was just guessing about the chardonnay.) ^ - ^)
10:00! And my bed is buried beneath piles of revision folders, half-finished Art sculptures and discarded uniform... *sigh* Franz Ferdinand is off, time for some James Reyne: old country, farmhand-in-a-white-singlet kinda stuff. Hammerhead is the most popular, or The Fall of Rome, but I like Way Out West. I used to call it the Eeyore song when I was little because it reminded me of a donkey standing in the trees beside a dusty road, and it's still got a bit of that magic now to erase the melancholy drawl of "Valium..." from my Franz-ified head.
Away from the computer to make some space. Wish everybody happiness. :-) G'night!

yay for john reyne! ^ - ^ + fated love quiz

2005-10-21T17:35:00.000+13:00

You will have a Content love. Not
boring, but without fights and problems. You
will just... be in love. Simple as that. As a
person, you're not the one who laughs highest
or most often, nor the one in the dark corner
crying. You are the one who sits watching
everyone else, often with a little smile
playing on your lips. To you, life is good and
you will get what you wish for. You will fall
for someone who is himself, and lets you be
you.

Please rate aaaaand... eat chocolate bars?
*cough*rate*cough* ^^

What Love are you Fated for? ~AWESOME anime pics!~
brought to you by Quizilla

Mademoiselle Petra aka what do I study next year?

2005-10-21T17:01:00.000+13:00

So, Year 11 syllabus (this past year for me):

- English
- Maths
- Art
- History
- Latin
- Science

Good? ^ - ^ I know how much each of those things mean to me; but now, for next year...

- English
- Practical Art
- History
- Media Studies
- Art History
- either Math or Biology.

I'm leaning towards dropping Math, because I'm pretty good at both of them and Maths is the one I enjoy least. The thing is, will there be consequences? Level 2 Maths credits aren't needed to get into University, and not for admission into any of the courses (Fine Art, History, Spanish, Art History, Journalism) that I really want to attend: so should I drop it?
Will anyone notice that it's missing? Bio would just be so much more interesting... and knowing your fill about bacteria is a little bit more practical than how to find the area of a sector in radians (bcause degrees just won't do it).
Oh, and Latin is definitely going. :-) I'm passing, but there's no desire to continue: I've learned all the basics for a language, and Spanish beckons at Uni!

So, self-indulgence, all my school worries out there on the net... *shakes head* It's raining in Dunedin, the drops drifting like moths into my window. Oh! I got a High Distinction in English!!! *happy dance* ^ - ^ Yeah! 74 out of 80, and half the ones I got wrong were spelling questions (which I thought I was good at, lol). Top 1% in the country! *sigh*
Makes me feel special. :-D Now must come tops in exams! Which probably means I should be studying... *grins* Oh, and I'm an Expressionist. handwriting analysis There's no spam with sign-up :-)

2005-10-17T19:13:00.000+13:00

Franz Ferdinand

random staccato

2005-10-17T17:15:00.000+13:00

Meekles! Yep, computer troubles are over (not that anyone knew) and we have internet again. Too much stuff to do, exams, revision must revise ahh crap I hate exams... *shakes* But blogging is therapeutic. ^ - ^ One of the tips on studyit.org.nz on coping with exams is 'avoid people who make you nervous'. Well, that's me. So, if the others have any sense they'll avoid me, and I'll be all alone on exam day!!! LOL hmmm am even getting nervous about that, maybe should just chill... *deep breath* I did learn something from the school exams (that's pre-NCEA, kind of a starter) : bring food. Yummy food. Chocolate. And a stress ball. Maybe even Franz Ferdinand! (On CD/mp3 :-) Mmm yep that would help; and I wouldn't be able to make others nervous either, so they'd do better. I love FF, lol: 'specially the chorus in Walk Away, The Fallen and Do You Want To. Those guys are great.

"I love the sound of you walking away, you walking away"

Farmland + music of the long white cloud

2005-10-04T11:23:00.000+13:00

There's something strangely relaxing about holidays spent in a tiny house, surrounded by fields, hearing only dogs barking, the distant roar of airplanes, sheep moving, grasses rustling, and the ever-present chorus of birds. And the radio, currently playing something by the Exies which is just a bit too loud. I have the house to myself, midday sunlight streaming in through the open door beside me... the drawn curtains move slightly in the wind; clouds fill the blue sky like far-away mist, stripped of any distinct edges.
QED - financial advice that works. Not an ad, but an example of just why the radio station is being changed. ^ - ^
1. To the D4, 'What I Want'. Pretty brainless, but mercifully short and at least without mention of vampires, death, isolation... no, wait. "I could be dead, I could be richer. I-I don't know what I want: maybe it's you, maybe it's somebody new."
2. On to Elemeno P, typical Kiwi: bouncy, un-sophisticated and frustratingly catchy.
3. Hmmm... something interesting. But un-named. That's not helpful! -bangs head against desk-
4. LOL, now a classic. Crowded House, lead by Neil Finn. What can you say about these guys? "Fall At Your Feet" is one of those songs that so many Kiwis grew up with - it's familiar to us, like grandad. You may never comprehend how brilliant or famous or influential he was, but you don't need to because you love him anyway.
5. -next song begins- Eww. I was hoping NZ hadn't caught that senseless noise / repetitive lyrics / stage whisper / screaming with bad voice / totally basic rhythm disease... but alas, this is proof. Consider yourselves lucky you can't hear it.
6. Now, to something quieter: synth, drums, fuzzy electronics - must be the Phoenix Foundation. I hadn't actually listened to anything of these guys' before this holiday because KiwiFM doesn't broadcast down in Dunedin, but now I have, I can see the appeal. It stands out like a saxaphone solo in the middle of a drum bar (which, incidentally, just happened). 'Hitchcock', that one was called.
7. The next, singer/songwriter, single male voice and subdued back-up; 'I Won't Walk Away' by ?Mozelee? He's got a good voice. I like it.
8. To 'Stars Without Their Make-Up' which is played at least twice a day, every day... "I do like stars without their make-up: I know it doesn't look right, I know I shouldn't but I do." Gentle vocals, keyboards, soft drums, undeniably memorable; the work of Flying Nun prodigy Dave Yetton. He's going on my list of CDs to buy (which currently includes Audioslave's 'Out of Exile' and the cheapest Lenny Kravitz 'Greatest Hits' I can find :-)
9. Other mentionable Kiwi bands are Opshop - melodic and thoughtful pop - and Shihad, antithesis of gentle, rockers to the core and probably capable of starting their own religion. ^ - ^ Or maybe I exaggerate. And there's Rhombus, another group that's infiltrated colleges everywhere: pacific tinges, dub, hip-hop, bass, beats, guitars, and a lot of other instruments I lack the ability to pick out. "Feeling that, healing that, rocking that..." Well, it grows on you. Oh, Pluto!!! Try 'Long White Cross', it's brilliant. And another classic, 'Not Given Lightly' by Chris Knox of Flying Nun once again. There, has your head exploded yet? Goodshirt!

Quotes

2005-09-29T09:36:00.000+12:00

"Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures." - Henry Ward Beecher

Here in this night
Alive with fire,
Thick with angel wings,
It is not my thoughts
that gather and conspire,
It is my soul that sings:
- Stephen J. Rivelle, translated from the writings of Roger, Duke of Lunel.

For everything that lives is holy, life delights in life.
- William Blake

All the lessons of history in four sentences:
Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad with power.
The mills of God grind slowly, but they grind exceedingly small.
The bee fertilizes the flower it robs.
When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.
- Charles A. Beard

About sacrifice and the offering of sacrifices, sacrificial animals think quite differently from those who look on: but they have never been allowed to have their say.
- Friedrich Nietzsche

What we see depends mainly on what we look for.
- John Lubbock

Life is a train of moods like a string of beads; and as we pass through them they prove to be many colored lenses, which paint the world their own hue, and each shows us only what lies in its own focus.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces
That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
- Lord Byron

History will be kind to me for I intend to write it.
- Winston Churchill

You can only protect your liberties in this world by protecting the other man's freedom. You can only be free if I am free.
- Clarence Darrow

If hard work were such a wonderful thing, surely the rich would have kept it all to themselves.
- Lane Kirkland

If we don't stand up for children, then we don't stand for much.
- Marian Wright Edelman

True peace is not merely the absence of tension: it is the presence of justice.
- Martin Luther King, Jr.

To eat bread without hope is still slowly to starve to death.
- Pearl S. Buck

When I do good, I feel good; when I do bad, I feel bad. That's my religion.
- Abraham Lincoln

True religion is real living; living with all one's soul, with all one's goodness and righteousness.
- Albert Einstein

Let me give you the definition of ethics: it is good to maintain life and to further life. It is bad to damage and destroy life. And this ethic, profound and universal, has the significance of a religion. It is religion.
- Albert Schweitzer

Why not let people differ about their answers to the great mysteries of the Universe? Let each seek one's own way to the highest, to one's own sense of supreme loyalty in life, one's ideal of life. Let each philosophy, each world-view bring forth its truth and beauty to a larger perspective, that people may grow in vision, stature and dedication.
- Algernon Black

How is one to live a moral and compassionate existence when one is fully aware of the blood, the horror inherent in life, when one finds darkness not only in one's culture but within oneself? If there is a stage at which an individual life becomes truly adult, it must be when one grasps the irony in its unfolding and accepts responsibility for a life lived in the midst of such paradox. One must live in the middle of contradiction, because if all contradiction were eliminated at once life would collapse. There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of leaning into the light.
- Barry Lopez

The cosmos is neither moral or immoral; only people are. He who would move the world must first move himself.
- Edward Ericson

The remarkable thing is that we really love our neighbor as ourselves: we do unto others as we do unto ourselves. We hate others when we hate ourselves. We are tolerant toward others when we tolerate ourselves. We forgive others when we forgive ourselves. We are prone to sacrifice others when we are ready to sacrifice ourselves.
- Eric Hoffer

Do not be too moral. You may cheat yourself out of much life so. Aim above morality. Be not simply good, be good for something.
- Henry David Thoreau

Never let your sense of morals get in the way of doing what's right.
- Isaac Asimov

All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.
- Thomas Edward Laurence (of Arabia)

photo sites

2005-09-29T09:29:00.000+12:00

image (c) kerim manganoz

www.photo.net - astoundingly beautiful photographs taken by some of the world's best

Quote #1 - Barry Lopez

2005-09-24T12:18:00.000+12:00

How is one to live a moral and compassionate existence when one is fully aware of the blood, the horror inherent in life, when one finds darkness not only in one's culture but within oneself? If there is a stage at which an individual life becomes truly adult, it must be when one grasps the irony in its unfolding and accepts responsibility for a life lived in the midst of such paradox. One must live in the middle of contradiction, because if all contradiction were eliminated at once life would collapse. There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of leaning into the light.

After searching many quotes, I found this. I can't really add to it; at least not in any way that wouldn't detract... so, just post and give me your thoughts.

update!!!!

2005-09-17T20:53:00.000+12:00

Hey guys, I'm writing this from a borrowed processor so maybe it'll be a while till I can talk again. Whoop Lenny Kravitz special on c4! Old stuff is the best: "I want to get away, I wanna fly away..." Well there's no way you can't like that. :-)
Gotta go, shall post again as soon as I can. Bye!

All Blacks v. Springboks and an exploration of Janet Frame that just kept going, finished up with bubbliness

2005-08-28T18:56:00.000+12:00

Another entry well overdue - hi Dad! The rugby last night was amazing, the kind of game that gets rave write-ups in the newspaper (almost 4 pages total in the Otago Daily Times) and cliche after cliche from those oh-so-familiar announcers. "The game to end all games!"
Look up - Rokocoko is baaaaaack!

On a different note (some more thoughts of mine, the kind that pop) I recently read a book of poems by a woman called Janet Frame. Most people overseas won't have heard of her, but here in New Zealand she's a cultural icon. The thing is - and this is what surprised me - her poems and thoughts are deeply negative. Cherry blossoms are bloody, the weather oppressive, cold, lonely and neglected. Any images that could maybe have had a positive spin - like that of Dunedin before it's discovery by British settlers - were always smothered by sadness or morbidity. It almost seemed like her inner joy was being denied. All the things I associated Janet Frame with before this were rural schools, derelict wooden houses, large families, threadbare clothes... It seems really sad that that kind of life produced someone with such a twisted sense of reality. Here's an example, maybe more justifiable than some (why I feel the need to justify it is another matter, lol), of a child dying of leukemia, 2nd and 3rd verses.

... who for six months has lain
his flesh at a touch bruised violet,
his face pale, his hate clearer
than milky love that would smooth over
the pebbles of diseased bone.

Pain spangles him like the sun,
He cries and cannot say why.
His blood blossoms like a pear tree.
He does not want to eat or keep
it's ugly windfall fruit.

I first read this particular poem last year in 4th form English, and then it had a weird, disquieting effect on me. Most probably this came simply from the subject, and not the language... but that same tone is evident in other poems, as well. This is from 'The Sun Shines All Day Vulgarly":

None told me that the sun would stay,
the cherry blossom wither and die,
and when its bloom was shed, the tree
cast off its guise of purity,
embrace light in its common mood
- wear a dark dress of blood.

Even now, thinking about it, I'm feeling uncomfortable. Naivety, perhaps - I hope - as that's definitely something to celebrate. (Does being aware of naivety wipe out its existence?)
My English teacher, when he gave me that book, said "poems are food for the soul." It's true, but sometimes verses like that take a bit of swallowing. They make me long for "The Far-Away Horse."
-
The NZ Idols are doing Wham. "Wake me up before you go-go!" There's always some balance, isn't there? Incidentally, George Michael's pants in that video are waaaaay too tight. ^ - ^
*glances back at the tv* Ahhh! That's absurd!!!! 20-something men and women wearing leg-warmers and singing duncy 80's pop... and actually getting into it. Makes me smile, lol. Idol cheese is definitely big in NZ. *shakes head in bemusement* Oh, who am I to talk? American Idol 2 claimed my head for about a year - go Clay!

2005-08-16T21:38:00.000+12:00

A damn fine picture made by my sister - no copying! ^ - ^

A prayer to Bobby Jon

2005-08-16T21:19:00.000+12:00

Hey - I fell over some empty minutes and thought I'd do some updating. We have lights in our kitchen again! No more banging into tables for me... and I'd say the risk of fire will be somewhat reduced now that the electrical cords are away from the sink.
Bobby Jon. What a name. Maybe a little slow, that man - but then again, he's not the one watching TV3 on mute because the reception's screwed up. *slaps self* We should have it soon. Steadily, every little problem in this house is getting fixed.
My sister Jessie has reintroduced me to RPGs! Beqanna would have to be one of the best you'd find: not too intimidating, tons of activity, and great graphics. Oh, they're horses, btw. If you want people, go somewhere else. (Elves, I can do. Ablithora looks good, is up-and-coming, but not totally checked out yet. Okay, I confess, I only just found it - but it could be fantastic! It could! :-)
Enough writing? Definitely enough rambling. I think I'm done. Go All Blacks!!!!!

2005-08-11T21:38:00.000+12:00

The Port of Lyttelton in Banks Peninsula, Canterbury

2005-08-11T21:35:00.000+12:00

Max Shreck as Dracula in 'Nosferatu' (1922), one of the creepiest films you should ever see.

History

2005-08-11T21:29:00.006+12:00

Castle Duffus in Scotland, owned by my family in centuries past

I knew I had to record the books I've read somehow, because there have been so many I don't remember, that I no longer think about; their influence shouldn't be ended so easily.

Finished books:
Sun After Dark - Pico Iyer (Nov '05)
Gorgeous, thought-provoking, insightful. The best travel book I've ever read, and what has now made the author one of my writing icons. :-)
Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd (Dec '05)
Many, many different characters woven together with amazingly palatable craftsmanship. A solid, traditionally well-written story that goes down easy, taking advantage of the ever-changing history of one of Britain's most ancient population centres.
The Little Friend - Donna Tartt (Dec '05)
Finished, and with a strange, melancholy feeling. Shards of effective and descriptive writing remain with me, and a sense of the torture in Harriet's dark eyes. The Little Friend makes you think. It's a wonderful book, full of prose that makes you feel like you're there and gives the whole thing an uncommon sense of reality, a disquieting frankness... It seems as though Donna Tartt writes things as they are, describing the distinct impressions they give with minimal input from muddying cliches. My mind recalls scenes as if inside them, each little line picked up and stored within my memory as a stir to achieve that particular kind of clarity.
[ Alexander the Great: The Hunt for a New Past - Paul Cartledge ]
Overdue back at the library. I never did get through it, and I don't feel I'm missing much: the style was too dry, too detached for me to get interested even though history books usually have some sort of allure to me.
The French Lieutenant's Woman - John Fowles (Dec '05)
About the story: it's melancholy, unrelenting and beautiful, a treat to read despite an ending which may seem cruel to us romantics. I found it drew my consideration, made me think; it calls all your attention, all your powers of observation and thought.
Game of Thrones, Clash of Kings & A Storm of Swords - George R.R. Martin (Dec '05 / Jan '06)
(Three books within the 'Song of Ice & Fire' series)
Fantasy. Good fantasy, the involved, well-written, epic kind. Reading for the second time I'd almost forgotten how dark they seemed, but despite the almost inevitable fact that 4/5 of the characters you like will die it's an amazingly easy story to lose yourself in: a complete other world, detailed, compelling and vivid. The reader moves from the narrative of one character to the next with seductive ease, each chapter infused with a distinctive personality that is testament to the talent of the author. The mood is never far from realistic, by turns bitter, naive, determined and distraught. I loved it.
The Death of an Ancient King - Laurent Gaude (Jan '06)
Written in a slightly otherworldy, ethereal and simplistic style, like the fables of old, this story is haunting and beautiful. It tells of a dying king whose kingdom is ripped apart by war between his loved ones, an eerie reminder of the fallibilities of the human mind that can cause such damage while believing the acts justified.
Fleur-de-Lis - Isolde Martyn (Jan '06)
Sweet, hard to follow yet irresistible, I have a feeling this may just be a girls' novel. The handsome men are there in all their glory and the heroine is witty and charismatic. Their interactions take place against the uncertainty of post-revolution Paris, but the murderousness and brutality of the time are seldom allowed to intrude.
The Dark of the Sun - Chelsea Quinn Yarbro (Jan '06)
Wonderul! Clear, crisp, and captivating... Like a frost, each sentence worth its weight. Not your typical vampire novel, not at all - its hero is a hero, Saint-Germain, the most noble of beings, elegant and gracious beyond my powers to describe... Goddamn this book is good!!!
River Thieves - Michael Crummey (Jan '06)
A realistic, talented depiction of life in the snow and ice of Newfoundland, with just the slightest supporting touch of cynicism.
Tropical Classical - Pico Iyer (Jan '06)
This author is one of those I most admire, blessed with warmth, disarming humour and a wonderfully engaging style.
Knife of Dreams - Robert Jordan (Feb '06)
Fantasy. Perhaps simpler than George Martin's work (in style, though not content), more familiar, less cruel - and amazingly addictive. This book continues the tradition, beautifully crafted and readable... Must have more...
The Dead - James Joyce (Feb '06)
He's talented, I'd always known, but before now I hadn't realised how much humanity accompanied the wit and intelligence. This is a beautiful short story, biting and melancholy but gently sensitive.
The General in his Labyrinth - Gabriel Garcia Marquez (Feb '06)
This book for me is a lot more compassionate than One Hundred Years of Solitude, and though the imagery in that tale was breath-taking, this was easier to get into. Perhaps it is the borderless theme of age and failing strength, perhaps the bare character of the General himself - but something makes it closer and more personal than the expansive canvas of his more well-known texts.
Vainglory - Geraldine McCaughrean (April '06)
A tale of the noble family of Gloriole and their heritage, the chateau of Gloriole-sur-Sablois, through the uprisings of Renaissance France. The first, Victoire, I loved, because he was all that a lord should be - but fortunes fell. This is a book rich in human shortcomings, cultured and brutal, but a very interesting one.
The Silent - Jack Dann (April '06)
A civil war drama told through the eyes of a child. It's mystical and disturbing, the stark horror of battle and loss forced from reality to a nightmarish haze which tortures the mind of the young boy caught within.
The Wolf King - Alice Borchardt (May '06)
This is good story-telling. Werewolves, but not so bleakly drawn, and Charlemagne!
The Tale of Murasaki - Liza Dalby (June '06)
Fascinating. I curled up with this book in the sun for hours at a time, just reading. The locations, the people, the legends come alive in your mind; the language is compelling, exotic and graceful. It's quite simply a gorgeous story.
Autumn Bridge - Takashi Matsuoka (July '06)
A tale that reaches for beauty, decorated as finely as any ancient tapestry, intricate, delicate and long-lasting. Its clever positioning of time and place gently entwine the reader, draping your world in thin silky gauze; each character is mythic in their own way, as Viking heroes of old, and yet we see their flaws. Very good.
A Thread of Grace - Mary Doria Russell (September '06)
Magical and harrowing. It's somehow true, somehow distant, and somehow taking place before either your eyes or the eyes of a you that could have been. (Obviously it inspires abstract thought.) The character of Renzo in particular is stunningly drawn, charismatic, 'mercurial' in the words of the blurb, and though I found myself affected by his depression I was also full of admiration for him, Santino, and Claudia. A Thread of Grace is beautifully written, captivating, and worthwhile: it's the book that pulled me back into reading.
Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden (September '06)
I stayed up all night reading this one. That's how good it is. A complete journey through life, one told with skill by a woman endlessly interesting. Towards the end you begin to squirm, as desperation grows - but... well, I'm not going to tell you everything am I? Just give it a go, especially if, like me, you're on a high for everything Japanese.
Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks (September '06)
Yay!!! This is the reaction provoked by a story told with a beauty I hadn't imagined possible, earth-shattering, mournful; it's an anthem for the losses of war, for the losses of love, for redemption and continuing life. If ever a book was to change your attitude forever, this is quite likely it. Read it for your sanity. Read it for emotion and a deeper appreciation. Read it to keep in your mind the tragic beauty of all that we have.
Augusta Locke - William Haywood Henderson (September '06)
This story has its own ambience, its own luscious sense of place and time... Seldom has a book been so distinctive. You can truly sense the heat, the dust and dry of the American outback; feel as your own Augusta's (figurative) claustrophobia, her fear of losing her daughter and dissociation from those who love her. As stilted as it sounds, this is a real journey.
Naked Empire - Terry Goodkind (September '06)
These are the books I devour. They're so captivating, so interesting, that I can't take my eyes away for more than a few minutes. This one took me... oh, around a day. I just wish it was longer! The words flow through you so naturally you hardly even need to form a conscious thought, getting carried away into another world to wonder at the sights being played out before your eyes.
Brethren - Robyn Young (September '06)
Crusades. How can it not be good? Thought not the deepest I've ever read, it's well-written and I'm looking forward to the next one. The Knights Templar, in particular, are treated with an interesting, matter-of-fact sense that heightens their strangeness to us now. Oh, and there's a plot, and a secret society. Yeah, it's good.
The Entire World of Time Series - Robert Jordan (Dec '06 - Jan '07)
That's around... 12,000 pages. They are amazing: both my sister and I dove in. I don't know if I'm capable of explaining what makes them so enthralling, but a taste might do:
- "The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, a wind rose among brown-thicketed hills in Cairhien. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning."
[From the first chapter of Lord of Chaos, book six.] Another taste, from a random page: 800, actually.
- "In the evening Myrelle spoke to him again about becoming a Warder, and went a little tight around the eyes when he told her hers would be the fifth offer he had refused since sunup. He was not sure she believed him: she flounced off in as much of a huff as he'd ever seen from an Aes Sedai."
Or page 362:
- "Suddenly Nicola spoke, sounding half-asleep. 'The lion sword, the dedicated spear, she who sees beyond. Three on the boat, and he who is dead yet lives.'" Ah, copying is addictive... Almost as addictive as these books in the first place. If you haven't tried, you must. Do yourself a favour, expand your horizons, and get beautifully intoxicated with this comprehensive other world.
The Bone People - Keri Hulme (March/April '07)
Wow. Now that is not the kind of book to make you feel better about humanity - in fact, if it'd been my choice, it would have been abandoned half-way through. But no, school has its demands... Cruel, pretentious, raw, a job to get your head around. Why do I want
my head around this?
The Aeneid - Virgil (April '07)
Much of the power I find in this can be attributed to my Classics teacher. He, for me, brings it alive. He imbues each word with the strength its author intended, deepening, illuminating for us all the subtleties and music in this wonderfully written and ancient work. Through him, we understand Virgil's depiction of 'the terrible iron-constricted Gates of War': we see Aeneas's journey from battle-hungry, honour-seeking Homeric hero to a constructive individual epitomizing the Roman ideal of sacrificing yourself for your city.
City of the Beasts - Isabel Allende (April '07)
Huh. I would have loved this a few years ago (when phrases such as "... her grandson commented, unable to suppress a hint of mockery when he saw his grandmother believed such tales" didn't make me grit my teeth - ah, such a snob). It's the kind of book I could never find: vivid, exotic, magical, moral. Very well-written.
Like Water for Chocolate - Laura Esquivel (June '07)
Light, fantastic, romantic: easily readable, sweet, and justifiably popular. Beautiful imagery accompanies a sensitive portrayal of human passion and belief.
Slaughterhouse-Five - Kurt Vonnegut (June '07)
I can hear my teacher's voice in this. Despite the deadpan description of death (a critical part of this novel, and an issue addressed by a rather circuitous notion of time), there is deep sympathy here. Empathetic, complex, unnerving in parts with a varied and choppy structure, this was a rewarding read.
The Iron Lance - Stephen Lawhead (July '07)
This is good. Apart from the inevitable cruelty and destruction brought by religious war (so much more to say here...) and my personal atheism, this drew me in wonderfully. In comparison with Byzantium, also by this author (and which I've tried and failed to finish at least three times) this is a great success: flowing, involving, heart-warming and sickening by turns. Not a power-punch to the gut, but surprisingly vivid and full of fascinating history.
Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov (September '07)
This man awes me. I've begun reading his autobiography, Speak, Memory, before, but never had the time to finish... and the loss is too much to describe. His words are so rich, so powerful, so- so much beyond, beyond, beyond! Read it now.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - J.K. Rowling (September '07)
Yes, these books are... what? Addictive? Obviously. The fact that I can plough through them is one that hardly needs to be mentioned, because that's their great strength: the ability to take hold of your thought, to create a seamless story that glides along so smoothly that before you realise, you're 100, 200, 300 pages in. (Part of that might also be the irritatingly large font size. :P) Redemption was big in this one. I liked that. There were beautiful moments, some hopelessly sad: there was death, love and much courage. Surprisingly emotive, and most definitely a fitting ending for this record-breaking series.
[ Gabriela, Clove and Cinnamon ] - Jorge Amado (October '07)
Very interesting so far: exotic, dry, human, somehow abstracted and an undeniable salvation.
When the Emperor was Divine - Julie Otsuka (October '07)
Fragile, perceptive, heart-breaking. This connects so easily, and wounds so deeply and so well: as an account of the isolation felt by Japanese Americans during WWII, a narrative of the journey of one family as they spend years in a cramped refugee camp in Utah, it captivates; as thought, it seems to crystallize a profound piece of the human spirit.

[and here we have one of those lamentable slips - I did keep a log of what I read, but on paper, somewhere... and even 'somewhere' is half a world away at this moment.]

Invisible Cities - Italo Calvino (mid '07)
It's been nearly a year since I first read this, so I'll try to capture some of the exhiliration I felt all those months ago: Invisible Cities is a poignant, insightful and life-affirming book. Within each story there is layer upon layer of meaning, lyrical and delicate, a wealth of detail and breath-taking accuracy. It's magical.
[ The Castle of Otranto ] - Horace Walpole (July '08)
Gothic, unsettling in the way of unruly superstition; complex in its language yet with the strange, echoing ring of a fairy tale. Combinations of lack of time and lack of motivation led me to return this before I'd finished, and though there were flashes of light - I remember dimly a princess' flight through a darkened castle, a village boy defending her to an angered lord - the story as a whole was too brutal to make enjoyable reading. For me, anyway. ^^
Diamond Warriors - David Zindell (July '08)
Ironic that brutality in this form is so easily tolerated; but then what I liked most about this book was it's spirituality. It was a hymn to the strength of the human heart, even crowded with magic, swords, knightly codes of honour and earth-bound immortals. Real beauty was described, in character and actions. Now I just have to find the first three books in the series!
The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger (August '08)
The blurbs call this book 'reckless', and I think that suits it well. It's crammed with chaotic beauty, courage and epic love - yet somehow, there's such truth to this. It reads close to the bone, as raw and illogical as human emotion itself.
The Testament of Gideon Mack - James Patterson (August '08)
Engrossing. I'm finding myself staying up late to read, something that hasn't happened in a while. It's a bit off-kilter, but so achingly human.
The Wars of the Roses: Lancaster and York - Alison Weir (Sept '08)
When I first saw this sitting on the arm of the sofa in Northampton, England, it mocked me. See, I didn't think I'd get to read it. But then my host surprised me, and so... It's a book of huge scope and passion, with an intellectual bent that came like a breath of fresh air and an amazing way of portraying character. The best kind of history, I think: scholarly, but never forgetting the essential humanity within all those shadowy figures of the past.
It is Bliss Here: Letters Homes, 1939 - 1945 - Myles Hildyard (Sept '08)
This book follows a British soldier through six years of service in Greece, the Middle East and France. It's introspective and seems to carry a real emotional honesty, though the author's words can be scarce when he's not describing the ancient wonders of the lands around him.

The Jackal of Nar, The Grand Design & The Saints of the Sword - John Marco (Oct '08)

(Three books within the 'Tyrants and Kings' trilogy)

Harsh, compelling and very readable. It captured my imagination, and even now, weeks after finishing, I can conjure scenes in my head: battles at sea, a palace gate like an upturned waterfall, the industrial might of Nar City. This is grand as the best fantasy is grand, a true gateway to another world.

The History of God - Karen Armstrong (Oct '08)

I don't feel any review could do this book justice. Her topic is some of the most brilliant and vibrant thinking of any age, and yet she analyses and explores it masterfully.

2005-08-11T21:26:00.000+12:00

Mount Hutt, in the Southern Alps of New Zealand - not quite Neptune, but damn gorgeous nonetheless ^ - ^

Loss of Words

2005-08-09T17:57:00.000+12:00

Matthew Brannon
Loss of Words
website

º Text, huh? Tapping fingers seem more appropriate.
The 'Ready Steady Cook' chefs grace the television; interesting how cheesy smiles penetrate those pixels so well. Mountain hairdo's are in style... How much do humans want freedom from this? To be lying on a beach in the sun, drinking something tropical and cold - or sitting in front of a warm fire, watching shadows dance over the walls - or marveling at the wonders of an ancient cathedral in Italy, France or Turkey - even standing in the wind on a grass-covered hill with not another human being in sight - all these dreams seem far more attractive and far more distant.

A Birthday and Cezanne

2005-08-05T17:16:00.001+12:00

Hey world: it's me again. How's Earth? Apparently Neptune is very dark. Our naughty space-dogs are barking their heads off and irritating the neighbours... well, those neighbours that haven't gone deaf, anyway.
I'm 16 now! It was my birthday on the 3rd, and I got an awful (hang on - chocolate, awful? Let me say 'a very great') lot of chocolate. My friend even baked a chocolate cake and brought it to school for me, and we had jelly crystals! It was great.^ - ^ Great great great! The only bad thing happened to be that when you eat jelly crystals (we didn't have too much, though, because they wind you up very easily, lol) off your fingers, the skin turns the same colour. I managed to warn everyone else but forgot about it myself, brainiac that I am. :-)
Hmmmm, interesting insights. You know what? I'm a 16-year-old girl, I haven't experienced anything much in my life save the depressingly common chill of divorce, and I honestly haven't had the freedom to make stupid mistakes. Any insights I might have (well, do have - if you can call them that) wouldn't really be stemming from personal experience, or knowledge of how the world works, or anything like that. They'd be hopelessly naive, drawn only from my judgements on the fairly harmless world I live in. It's impossible that I could understand the lives and struggles of so many of the people in this world... but I'm gonna try!
Forgive my blundering, because hopefully these thoughts of mine will improve with practice. ^ - ^
I've got to make the most of this youthful enthusiasm while I still have it: that's a lesson learned from my grandparents, one of the rare complete truths I've heard. Youth may still be wasted on me, but I aim to make the most of it. Spain, here I come!
Oh, and the painting is by Cezanne, one of many of Mont Sainte-Victoire in France. (See more work by him.) I love it - impressionism seems to speak straight to the mysteries of human perception. Maybe it's too girly, this view, but I think of art as something which conjours up human emotion. I know others don't agree with me - Dad - but I just thought I'd say it. :-) I'm almost of time, lol, have been typing for too long. Have a great day, guys, and thanks for reading. ^ - ^

The Booke of Days

2005-07-30T15:04:00.002+12:00

I've been lucky enough to find a brilliant book on the Crusades... The more I think of it, the more I have to share. It was called The Booke of Days by Stephen J. Rivelle. It's not a modern fiction or reference book, but a translated version of the journal of a French leader named Roger, Duke of Lunel who marched with over 80,000 others as a Crusader in 1096. He went for the promised absolution of his sins by God, and to retake the holy Christian city, Jerusalem, from Muslim hands. The journey took 4 years. During that time, Roger and his men fought and bribed their way through Europe. They faced mountains, desert, countless enemy soldiers, disease, malnutrition, desertions, treachery and constant attack on their beliefs. By the time they reached Syria, the Pope's holy army was cut to less than 10,000 men. Even so, they went on, and captured Jerusalem. This may not be a good thing in our histories, but it's an incredible feat. That subject alone could carry a book to greatness - but there is more to it than that. This was a journal, a place of salvation for the tortured thoughts and discoveries of the inspiring, charismatic man who kept it. He hides nothing. All the tension, the mistakes, the beliefs and cruelties of that age live again, untempered. It's amazing.

Okay, that's enough for today... ^ - ^

My last night in paradise

2005-07-23T17:27:00.000+12:00

I'll try not to get too mopey - this is just a warning that I may be gone for a while as internet access at Mum's is few and far between. I'll also have a lot of homework, no doubt. Oh, the joys of NCEA! *end of sarcasm*
I suppose I'm lucky to even have a chance to live where I'm am now, though. Look at it! That's my backyard! ^ - ^ I've also found (or rediscovered) some good band sites: The Perishers, Starsailor, and just for the heck of it, 67 Special. (Their link can also be found in the sidebar :-) And if you want to go even more arty/indie, check out The Secret Machines or Doves.
I'm stifling the urge right now to go completely overboard and post links to all my favourite music sites... no, I'm stopping it... mission completed. You shall not have to be overwhelmed by linkage, but only suffer through this rather loopy paragraph. (If you're searching for a point, it may take a while.) ^ - ^
On to hopefully more coherent things, and... be back soon.

Un Uovo Nuovo

2005-07-19T11:05:00.000+12:00

Added some more links, including one to my Dad's page 'Un Uovo Nuovo' which he tells me definitely means 'a new egg' in Italian. :-)
He's taken a lot of great pictures on his trips overseas (lucky thing!) and will hopefully be adding tons more to the few he's already put online. They're mainly from Rome, Florence and the Amalfi Coast in Italy, but this year he visited Scotland and got some absolutely gorgeous shots of castles and mountains... ^ - ^ I wanna go!

P.S. If you're lucky enough to live anywhere near these places, make sure you enjoy it, huh? They're beautiful!
P.P.S. Pleeeease don't laugh at the picture... and if you don't know what that means, I'm not going to tell you. :-P

Gerrit Dou and War of the Worlds

2005-07-17T18:32:00.000+12:00

At the moment I'm in a happy place for me (a literal one, that is) with a person I don't often see. It's good. Relaxing. ^ - ^ But I don't mean to rub it in... So maybe I won't give air to the only problem that's bouncing around in my head.

This glorious glass-and-steel creation is the Christchurch Art Gallery in NZ, a $50 million construction only completed in the last few years. I went for a walk around today and saw some absolutely amazing stuff. Have you ever heard of Gerrit Dou? He was a 17th century Dutch artist and his paintings are so detailed it's impossible to see a single brush stroke. The tone is brilliant as well, and the colour - I could have stared at it for hours. I would post it for you, but copyright laws and all that. :-P How about this page for a rather faded version of 'The Physician'. (The colours are so much more vivid in person.)

Right, now on to my first exploratory movie review... Steven Spielberg's The War of the Worlds. It was fantastic! I'd been looking forward to it with a bit of caution after hearing a lot of smack about the ending (which may not be the best, but wasn't as bad as I'd thought) but one of my friends at school loved it so I gave it a go. Does that make sense? Well, whether I am coherent or not, War of the Worlds is definitely worth seeing. The atmosphere is steady and chilling throughout the entire film, the story is well-directed and the actors all pull their weight - especially Dakota Fanning, the young girl, who demonstrated her gift and gave a performance that added immensely to the story's impact. Steven Spielberg's version focuses more on the added relationships between Tom Cruise and his two children, instead of adhering strictly to the (legendary) versions of the past. I loved it; and there would probably have been enough epic images of monstrous, towering tripods crashing around the urban centres of America to satisfy all but the most bloodthirsty of viewers. The heat rays were awesome. ^ - ^ Not particularly gross, either.
Thanks for trawling through all this! Have a good night... or day. Be happy!

Jukebox

2005-07-15T12:17:00.001+12:00

Music. The stuff I like, old, new, classic and (mostly) random. ^^
Decided I'm a bit too enthusiastic with these songs to have them all cluttering up the sidebar - so here they are, right back from Oct '05. :-)

1. Again - Lenny Kravitz
2. Tub Thumping - Chumbawumba
3. Bliss - Th' Dudes
4. O Yeah - End of Fashion
5. Come On Eileen - Dexy's Midnight Runners
6. Pretty Vegas - INXS
7. Wise Men - James Blunt
8. Seen Better Days - Pete Murray
9. Dare - Gorillaz
10. Rain - Dragon

11. Trippin' - Robbie Williams
12. Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd
13. Latoya - The Exponents
14. No Rain - Blind Melon
15. No Bravery - James Blunt
... (JB lyrics posted here) ...
16. Only You - Josh Kelley
17. Boom Boom - Chayanne
18. Hot Legs - Rod Stewart
19. Exit Music (for a film) - Radiohead
20. The Message - Coldplay

21. Hung Up - Madonna
22. Paranoid - Black Sabbath
23. White Wedding - Billy Idol
24. Darkness Darkness - Robert Plant
25. One Night in Bangkok - Murray Head
26. Blow Up the Outside World - Soundgarden
27. We Will Rock You - Queen
28. Patience - Guns N' Roses
29. Ironic - Alanis Morissette
30. High - James Blunt

31. I Want You - Savage Garden
32. Where Do You Go - No Mercy
33. Wandering Eye - Fat Freddy's Drop
34. World I've Known - Collective Soul
35. Man in a Box - Alice in Chains
36. Relax - Frankie Goes to Hollywood
37. Down So Long - Jewel
38. 9 Million Bicycles - Katie Melua
39. Break Me Shake Me - Savage Garden
40. Shiny Happy People - REM

41. Walk Away - Franz Ferdinand
42. My Completeness - Thirsty Merc
43. Estranged - Guns 'N Roses
44. Love Generation - Bob Sinclair
45. Trippin' - Robbie Williams
46. Ring of Fire - Johnny Cash
47. La Sirena - Los Lobos
48. Put Your Records On - Corinne Bailey Rae
49. Wake Up - The Living End
50. Suddenly I See - KT Tunstall

51. God Killed the Queen - Louis XIV
52. Cold December - Matt Costa
53. Father Figure - George Michael
54. Dani California - Red Hot Chili Peppers
55. Your Star, Strangled - Migala
56. An Old Familar Scene - Elf Power
57. The Ballad of Miss Kate - Matt Costa
58. Cold Girl Fever - The National
59. The Sun Always Shines On TV - Aha
60. I Bet That You Look... - The Arctic Monkeys

61. Running - Evermore
62. Forever Young - Youth Group
63. A Beat For You - Pseudo Echo
64. The Motown Song - Rod Stewart
65. For You I Will - Teddy Geiger
66. Aeroplane - Red Hot Chili Peppers
67. Opportunity - Pete Murray
68. Immigrant Song - Led Zepplin
69. Woman - Wolfmother
70. Little Red Rooster - The Rolling Stones

71. Lake of Fire - Nirvana
72. Sometimes Enough - The Black Seeds
73. All Along the Watchtower - Jimi Hendrix
74. Heartbreaker - Pat Benatar
75. Killer Queen - Queen
76. Magic Moments - Perry Como
77. Opportunity - Ella Fitzgerald
78. When Love Comes to Town - U2 & BB King
79. Lucifer - Black Sabbath
80. I'm Feeling Good - RED Speedwagon

81. Fire Woman - The Cult
82. Dude (Feels Like a Lady) - Aerosmith
83. Ruby Ruby - Kaiser Chiefs
84. Chelsea Dagger - The Fratellis
87. Makes Me Wonder - Maroon 5
88. Better Than - John Butler Trio
89. Flathead - The Fratellis
90. Proud - Heather Small

91. Everything - Michael Buble
92. Fidelity - Regina Spektor
93. Red Tide - The Have
94. Baby Come Back - Player
95. Take Me There - The Checks
96. Radio Nowhere - Bruce Springsteen
97. I Hurt - Johnny Cash
98. Heartbeats - Jose Gonzalez
99. Around the World - Daft Punk
100. Paralyzer - Finger Eleven

101. End of the Road - Boyz II Men

Evening

2005-06-12T18:32:00.000+12:00

Weather: Calm, cool, shadowed. The sky is pale pink.

Done some adding-on of counters and links and stuff: enjoy and make use! Well, as much use as you can make of something that sits there and counts. Still, we shall forgive it for it's lack of social skills - just give it a nice pat on the head as you leave.

Sharp and snappy I am not

2005-06-11T23:01:00.000+12:00

Weather on Neptune: Still dark and calm. No moonlight.

I'm been reading some of the other blogs on here, and it's made me think about just what makes people do this. Why exactly am I putting so much thought into the phrasing of these words? Thoughts on the world, passing impressions; for me, a snapshot of who I am, right at this moment, facing the future I will have explored just a tiny bit more when I read this again. Probably I'm getting a bit tired, right now... The man reading the news has a very large chin. I wonder what he was like at my age. Heh - late-night Star Wars screening. NZ television is so great.

2005-06-11T22:02:00.000+12:00

An oasis on the blue planet.

Commencement

2005-06-11T21:46:00.000+12:00

Weather on Neptune: Dark, very dark. Rather cold, no wind.

Hmmm... first of all, a warning to be prepared for all the nutty and rather spasmic outbursts of a first-time blogger - the chipmunks are coming!!!!! Second, thanks so much for reading this! (Just take that for true, will ya? ^ - ^)
Now, my comparably sober thought (nothing to do with drinking, by the way): having a blog is rather intimidating. It's not supposed to be, published in the glorious anonymity of the internet, but for some reason (possibly just a youthful lack of confidence) I feel like I'm missing something. I'm not one of those people with strong views about everything, and usually I'd rather listen to other people than take the chance of someone listening to me... (random musings about judgement, second winds, not seming like a complete idiot and the like)... Maybe this whole 'editing' thing should be stopped. Surely, since you're going to put out a piece of your character for all to see, and some people are gonna hate it no matter what you do, you should take the chance to be as truthful as possible? Nothing to lose; it's that 'first-class banana, second-rate apple - and not everybody loves apples, so you may as wll be a better banana' kinda thing. This is a banana-blog. Stay tuned.