I like this page of World Cup advertising stuff. Interesting ideas.

* * *

I like messing with kids.

My five year old step-neice has a chalk-board in her lounge.

She was getting me to draw pictures of the giant squid she'd seen at Te Papa the previous day. I got her flustered by drawing shoes and a moustache on it - she had to rub it out with her hands. But then she didn't mind when I gave it sharp teeth and drew blood around its mouth.

She liked it so much that she copied it at lunch. She kept hanging food out of her mouth and saying, 'It's my blooooood, like the squid.'

* * *

Saw a thriller from Argentina last night at the Penthouse. It came together nicely at the end (though rather conveniently). I can imagine it being remade in America with Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts.....

* * *

I don't know why the quiz team vetoed my idea of 'Team Jacob' as our name. Even Ant admitted he'd turn gay for Jacob.

* * *

While my geometic moo-moo dress was a risky purchase, I'm glad I made it. Moo-moo dresses rule! They're the ultimate outfit to wear for a yum-cha lunch or family dinner at the Chinese restaurant. Just give me a sack with a belt and I'm happy!

And the 'muted colours' (as described by a Design student I teach) make me 'on trend'.

Yeah, I watch the E channel too much.......

* * *

I'm still miffed about the laundromat fantasies not being real. Today a guy came in when I'd just got up to put more money in my machine.... and I'd left my magazine at the chair I'd been sitting at..... and he stole my place! I had to rather obviously go and rescue my magazine from under the Magnum icecream he'd just put on top of it while he loaded his machine. Hmmmph!

* * *

The satay sauce in a pouch that you can get from Moore Wilson's or Pak 'n' Save (for pretty much the same price) is delicious! I may have mentioned this before, but I had some tonight with chicken and Singapore noodles and it was just like real takeaways! Look on the cold-shelf at your local.

I like how we're going all old-school with the cigarette ban in jails. Everybody loves a black-market! Trading cigarettes will make them feel like they're in an old gangster movie. Fun!

* * *

I love how the Film Fest is somewhat of a military mission with itinerary and spreadsheets! Serious business.

* * *

We are starting a work indoor netball team. I hope it ends up being like the work team on Shortland Street! It was bitchy. I have to decide who's going to be the 'Gerald' of the team. I like to see myself as a bit of a TK...... fair, but competitive.

* * *

There has been talk of 33 being the start of the mid-thirties. I refute this theory. It's still early thirties.... 30-33 (early 30s), 34-36 (mid 30s) and 37-39 (late 30s). I think 33 is the pivotal year, but I still group it with the early years. So there.

Reward.

NO MORE REPORTS! I CAN WATCH TV AGAIN!

Finished reports this morning at 8.30am, after three nights of work from 5pm to embarrassingly late, with only food, Shortland St and shower breaks.

So I did nice stuff this afternoon (it was my day where my last lesson finishes at 11.10am). I went shopping and bought a couple of new wardrobe items at lunch (the other embarrassing thing is that I banned myself from any frivalous shopping between my last two pay days... and my bank account went up by $700).

Anyhow.

After that I went to the laundromat to dry my washing (it's been a few weeks.... I was down to the bad-underwear at the bottom of the drawer - you know what I'm talking about!).

Then I watched about three hours of stuff that was taped on MySky. I have to confess that the new Star Trek movie is actually pretty good - everyone who'd said that to my disbelief at the time it came out was right. Then Cougar Town. Then Shortland Street. Then House. Then Grey's Anatomy. Then Private Practice. Then Brothers and Sisters. Ok.... it could have been more like five hours.

Awesome! And no ads.

Now I'm dying my hair (well overdue - two naive kids in my class sincerely said my hair looked 'cool' the other day because it was two different colours).

I feel like I've had a productive day!

I'm kinda human again.

Now I just have to wax my legs......


MUST START LEARNING GERMAN

Earlier this week I got sent some wedding photos from my bridesmaid outing a couple of months ago.

If they were the best of the bunch, it's really not good. At least I can say I was brave. I went out there smiling!

Today a cute German guy from the wedding friended me on Facebook. That was a pleasant surprise. He was NOT the one the bride had been hoping to set me up with (the one I started talking to in a drunken faux-German accent towards the end of the night). He was the one who spoke barely any English and had a girlfriend. But he was tall. Very tall. And he spent most of the day-after brunch hunched over the stove making a giant omelette for 30 people. I was standing next to him making coffee for everyone (I was the only one who figured out the fancy automated coffee machine, so I got stuck there all morning). We bonded. I made him coffee.

But he had a girlfriend. Still, it was a pleasant surprise. You never know who it's gonna be when you click on the 'friend request' button. Sometimes it's pleasant. Other times you cringe and think, 'Man - I have to cut somebody to be friends with them! I'm only allowed 80! But I gotta do it cause they're somebody I actually run into and it's awkward not to.....' Well, that's what I think, anyhow. Not with anyone who's likely to read this (obviously..... hopefully). The quota system is harsh. Unfortunately for Guid, he didn't make the cut.

YOU WERE THE 81ST FRIEND - AND UNFORTUNATELY, THIS IS AN ELIMINATION ROUND.....

This time I deleted a girl I went to school with. Our families were friends, so I saw a bit of her..... but I never liked her that much, to be honest. She was one of those social climbers who was always looking to get 'in' with the rugby crowd. I never really liked those sorts. And she's become uber-Christian, so most of her updates are her sending vitual angels to people. And she has about 600 friends, so she's not gonna miss me.

She was the weakest link. Goodbye!

Toilet Paper is really Archaic

This is in Time magazine's 50 Worst Inventions ever. Apparently it was real.

Commando is funny to watch as a grown-up. 80s movies had balls. And a cavalier disregard for reality. Fantastic. It brought back deeply-burried memories of playing the C64 Commando game.

Then Michelle made us watch Night as the Roxborough. It has two good lines in it. One was 'Is your name Tattoo? Can you see da plane? Cause I think you're on Fantasy Island' (said to someone who was way off the mark). I forget the other one.

We ate pizza. The burger flavoured pizza at Dominos is surprisingly good. If you like mayonnaise sweetness. It followed the pistachio and chocolate twirl danish thing I got from Moore Wilson's.

* * *

I like my new winter coat. It's atually quite similar to my old winter coat, but it is longer in both the body and arms. My old one was kinda cropped in that Audrey Hepburn 1950s kinda way. This one is more of a pea-coat length. Excellent. And it has giant pockets.

* * *

I like my new Goldair heater too. I had a Warehouse brand for a while and it finally died compeltely (after being a little bit dead for quite some time). It really is worth spending the extra $30 to get the Goldair. I'm lying on my bed with my foot dangling down and it's toasty warm.

* * *

I like 'A Single Man'. I liked it a lot. It was nicely filmed and well acted and smart. I would never have picked that the pretty student in it was the boy from 'About a Boy'. Not in a million years. He does charming as well as he does dorky.

Colin Firth has a bizarre kind of handsomeness. He looks like someone's dad and can be frumpy-faced... yet the way he wears a suit makes up for it all. That and the self-effacing charm.

* * *

I have been watching interviews with the guy who plays Sheldon. He seems to ham up the Sheldon-ness in some of them. I am trying to decide whether he is worth having a geek-crush on.

Toy Story 3

It gives me pride and nostalgia that the Barbie used in Toy Story 3 is the main one I had as a child.

It's Jazzercise Barbie. She has on a one-piece aqua coloured lycra suit and leg warmers. At the time I was a bit disappointed - who wants a Barbie that isn't in a pretty dress?

But now she's cool. She's endured. (You can see her in the background of this pic - she has a big scene with a Ken doll in the film, apparently - she compliments on his nice 'ascot').

Rage

I like to think I'm maturing into a scary, mean, irritable teacher.

After having a rant about cheaters, my class was scared into including masses of drafts attached at the back when they handed in their most recent assignments.

They fear me and my paranoia.

* * *

Two quizzes. Two second places.

* * *

I need a new black cardigan. And a colourful scarf. And more things with patterns on them.

* * *

I'm liking mushrooms at the moment. And raw carrots.

I'm having banana on toast for lunch most days. It's good. I cut the banana lengthwise so it looks cafe-style.

* * *

I don't know anything that's going on in the world. I'm ignorant.

A kid in my class used an example of a song by Alicia Keyes (featuring Beyonce) in class and said earnestly, 'Do you know who they are?'

Old.

But some other kids said they only thought I was 29 or so.

Young.

* * *

Sleepy. Sore back.

Cat Stevens

1. It's annoying how lots of great acts only come to Auckland and Christchurch. Stupid Wellington stadiums.

2. Would he be playing his cool old stuff or his weird new stuff?

Cheaters

I was reading through a class set of essays that count for internal credits. I found two that had cheated and copied hunks out of essays they'd found online. Idiots. At first I was thinking 'Wow - nicely put - we didn't cover that in class'.... and eventually that turned into 'Hmmm - come to think of it, that's not actually addressing the right topic, and I don't remember her draft being that good.'

Nice to know I can confidently pick a cheat (the two I was suspicious about quickly turned up as essays in google searches) and that our internal checking systems work.

But not nice that two pretty decent kids thought that was their best option. Those won't be fun conversations tomorrow. They coulda just been like the rest of the class and written mediocre essays full of errors that failed for solid and ethically sound reasons. That would've taken minimal effort.

Busy Weekend

I feel like I've been busy this weekend. I haven't had time to do my down-time stuff like shuffling around the mess in my room and watching stuff I taped on MySky. Not good! And I'm super-tired tonight.

All brought upon by myself, mind you. And a lot of my current lethargy is to do with eating crappy but yummy food while socialising. Bready goodness and pizza and pancakes and caramel slice.

I might go and eat a carrot right now. The fact that I didn't brush my teeth properly this morning because someone was in the bathroom when I got up isn't helping either.

Crafting

I should think more deeply about the act of crafting. We had a loosely defined craft afternoon yesterday. It was fun. Though, for my own sense of pride I have, when in the company of manly-men, referred to it as a Project Group rather than a Craft Circle.

My step-mother belongs to a group called Yack and Tack, which is a bunch of ladies who get together and quilt and gossip and stuff. They drank one of my dad's best bottles of wine once. It has become a thing of legend through its retelling.

People did things from baking scones to building model planes (guess who) or making jewelry or putting photos in a photo album. I made a ladder for leprachauns (a wall hanging ladder thingie that I haven't fully decided what I'll do with yet).

Is it the comfortable atmosphere of people in their own little zones, ocassionally chatting to each other, but focussed on their own projects as well that makes it a less demanding social interaction?

Or is it that people doing creative things are inherently happier?

Something about them is just nice. I like it when a social event has a tangible outcome.

Taking Short Cuts

Rewind Time, Please. Give me back my hair!

I often leave the hairdressers with great trepidation. I am an 'adventurous' hair client in that I often let my hairdresser do what he likes. I'll give him a basic length I'm willing to go to and he goes nuts from there.

Sometimes it works out great.

Sometimes I get a little worried.

Today I'm a little worried.

Maybe it'll grow in and look better when it's a little longer.....

I'm looking back at photos from my road trip earlier this week wistfully.... so much glorious hair.... no fringe...... why didn't I just ask for a trim this time?

Sigh.

* * *

.... to Cheer Myself Up....

I got some nice clothes today. That cheers me up. Yay for sales at Rex Royale and Andrea Moore! Bring on American Idol tonight. I got something called a 'rosebud' skirt. I like it. It kinda has petal folds at the front.

I'm loving yogurt at the moment.

* * *

Local Loyalty

For consistency and taste you really can't beat my local cafe, Salvation. I had a salmon bagel in town at Ernesto's and it was by far inferior to my local. My local toasts it and has capers to make it taste yummier.

* * *

Medial Mystery - Modern Society's Perils on Sensitive Skin

I have this patch of eczema on my hand. It's kinda down palm-side by my little finger on my right hand. My googling skills has diagnosed it as 'pompholyx' eczema.

It's a certain type of eczema that has little blistery bubbles under the skin. It can get quite sore.

I've noticed that when I go on holiday somewhere it mostly goes away.

I'm trying to figure out what it is in my daily life that irritates it. The website says it can be irritated by chemicals or cleaners or contact with nickel. Where would I find nickel in my everyday life???

I have a few theories. I seem to have a lot of things that rub against that part of my hand during the course of the day that are plastic or rubber, and it doesn't seem to like this.

Mostly it's my laptop. When I use the mousepad bit and tend to rest my right hand on the edge of the laptop. I've been trying to retrain myself to stop doing this.

Then there's my tooth brush. Sometimes in the morning after I've held my rubber padded toothbrush I start to feel a stinging on my hand. But I use this on holidays, so it mustn't be a major irritant.

Then there's the steering wheel of my car. I mostly use my right hand, which again would explain it only being on my right hand and not my left (as would the others).

Then there are little things, like the rubber grip bit on the Sky remote, which nestles right into that part of my palm. And there's the rubber handle on the kettle.

Why is the world filled with so many rubber things that you hold????

I'm thinking of getting a little fingerless glove to wear on that hand when I'm using my laptop or driving. I already use one rubber glove when I'm doing cleaning around the house.

I'll either look like Madonna, Michael Jackson or a professional ten-pin bowler. I can't lose!

On the Road Again

What if Pac Man was real.... like something from Saw.

Roadies

I find road trips are useful mainly for forming opinions about your home town. I tripped around the North Island and constantly compared things from the weather to banana bread with how they are in Wellington.

Turns out Wellington kinda sucks on lots of fronts. But it's still home.

I'm not a Taupo fan. Have never really seen the appeal, maybe because I don't fish or do a lot of adventure tourism. I go to Auckland infrequently enough that it tends to pleasantly surprise me. I liked what I saw of Whangarei, which I've never been to before. To be fair, I mainly saw the backpackers (which is very plush for a backpackers - the queen stayed there back in the day - $40 each for a double room with a fancy tiled ensuite with bath) and the marina. And they put out a great little magazine about Northland that I picked up and read in a few cafes.

Cass is a great person to road trip with. It's a hard dynamic to get right, but we managed it well. Four nights away and the most stressful bits were when we were driving around Auckland, but we'd gone off the map and couldn't find a motel in peak hour traffic on a Friday night. There was a bit of delerium there but we made it through.

We played it all by ear, booking nothing in advance and changing our plans as we went with no real agenda. Cass is my photo buddy, so we took lots of those along the way. And drank a lot of coffee. And rocked out to cheesy music from the 90s. Sweet.

Weirdos and Backpackers

The weirdest night was in Taupo, at the dodgey backpackers. We decided to give a dorm room a go (since everything else was booked out at both places we'd tried and we, at that point, were determined to do things cheap).

Not realising that it was a room was above a night club. I was on the top bunk and I could still feel the room vibrating til about 1am. Soon after that someone started dumping and smashing crates full of bottles right outside out window as they packed up for the night (and some other truck came to pick them up at dawn, with more noisy smashing). So we figured we might as well sit outside and eat our Doritos and drink wine for a bit, since there was no chance of sleep. Plus we didn't want to have to share with our foreign roomies.

And two creepy guys came up to us. One of them was a Wellingtonian on his own road trip (having recently been made redundant) and the other was the old guy who managed the place. The older guy tried to 'enlighten us' (not that we'd asked him to) and lectured Cassie about various overly personal issues for about an hour. He then turned to me and accused me of thinking he was a loon.

I did think he was a loon, but I euphemistically said, 'Oh, I'm just quite cynical.' He then said he was cynical too and listed lots of conspiracy theories he had heard about (as some kind of illogical evidence that he wasn't a loon). Seeing I was still unconvinced, he said that if he held a person's hand he could tell an amazing amount about them. It was his gift.

My hand stayed firmly under my blanket (it was cold outside, so I had my argyle throw rug on).

He then said, 'Let me guess some things about you.' I didn't really agree but he started anyway.

'You're from a private school.' Cassie actually guffawed at this. I shook my head and smugly said, 'You're wrong.' Undefeated, he went on to guess that my parents had wanted me to go to private school. Again, Cassie guffawed. She has heard about the liberal Judges. Two strikes. He gave up at this point. I was glad I had bummed him out. The guy was weirdly arrogant and annoying. And just plain yuck.

Cassie reckons it was my argyle blanket that put his psychic powers off. Made me look preppy.

After that guy finally left (with the parting comment that 'You should never lend your chainsaw or your girlfriend to a mate - because they'll both come back f***ed') it was just us and the Wellington guy, who by comparison seemed quite sane.

He had in the meantime left and come back with more Harvest cider (all class). He admitted that he'd driven to the super market on his bike. Drunk driving - sexy. He said he'd scored some pot and offered us some. We declined. He said that he knew where a great hot pool was that we could go to on Spa Road. We declined.

Because I was polite (and really because we had nowhere else to go because of the disco going on below our sleeping beds) he seemed to think we liked him. When he found out Cass was married he actually said, 'Well, no use sitting here then' and moved across to sit beside me. Eventually he asked me out to dinner once we were back in Wellington. I made some kind of uncommital noise and changed the subject.

When he could tell we were ready to leave because it was so cold outside we had no feeling left in our lower limbs, he bravely asked for my number.

I gave it to him. Not because I liked him at all. I didn't. I'm just really rubbish at turning people down in those situations. And I even gave him the right number, because I hate lying. I won't actually go on a date with him though. I can be crueler when it's not to his face! But the guy was an unemployed pot-head who drives drunk..... he surely doesn't think those are selling points to a private school girl like myself......

The next morning, after two of our room mates got up at the crack of dawn and woke us up too... I leaned down to Cassie's bed and whispered, 'Let's get the hell out of Dodge - before the crazy people wake up and find us again....' and we high tailed it out of there.

Cauliflower.

So I'm a bridesmaid on Thursday. It's a much maligned job really. At no other time in my grown-up life do I have to wear something chosen for me by somebody else. And at no other time in my grown-up life do I have to walk unshielded in front of so many people who are blatantly judging my outfit. It's not fair!

After trying on the dress in front of the bride's mother (the bride having sent it over from England) and gotten a response of, 'Well - it fits,' I had not worn the dress in front of anyone else. It's... how do you say.... 'ill fitting'. Cassie describes it as a muffin-top dress. It's all puffy at the top, then clingy at the bottom. The opposite way around to what I usually wear.

Today I pulled it out to show my step-mother. She immediately said, 'It's hideous!' based on its shiny grey mass of folds. I'd tried to soften the blow and said, 'Well, it could be a nice dress, just not on me...' but she'd insisted the dress was hideous. I then said, 'Wait til you see it on! It gets worse!'

So I came out with the dress on and she said, 'Oh, you poor thing!' and laughed. It's that bad. She said I'd look like a giant shiny cauliflower in the photos.

We stood pulling and tucking at bits of the fabric (which is too tight on my thighs but too loose everywhere else). I pulled a handful of fabric tight at the back of my waist... and Lynne said, 'Uh huh! That's what's wrong!' Her theory was that if we did a pin tuck at the back, then the front bit sat up a bit like it's supposed to.

So she got out the needle and thread and put a few stitches in the back. It looked somewhat better. Still not great, but much better. And the newly created pleat at the back took a little attention off my massive silver buttocks.

She lent me her hard-core granny undies (the kind that go from your knees to your tummy button). They improved things a bit too. I figure my chances of scoring whilst wearing this dress are slim to none, so nana-undies aren't a problem.

But we were still laughing at how bad I looked even after our alterations.

I'm sure my hair will look nice. Or maybe I'll go for a beehive hairdo just to pull people's eye upwards....... I look forward to hearing the euphemisms people come up with to try and make me feel better about how I look in it...

Wish me luck!

At least my back is less sore than it was - I think I can walk upright anyhow (the granny undies help - they act a little like a back brace).

It's funny though really. The only three things a bridesmaid really has to do are turn up, look good in the dress and walk elegantly down the aisle. One out of three ain't bad.

A Love Affair

After months of searching I may have finally found satisfaction.

Other people may pass it over as nothing special, but it is my New Favourite. I smile a secret smile right now just picturing it hanging up in my room, wedged carfefully between my scratchy-purple dress and my appley-cotton sundress.

I was actually in Miss Wong looking for a belt. I found new stock on their $100-and-less sale display, which further lured me in. Then I got sucked into the non-sale area of the shop. Sneaky of them. They put all the red clothes together on a rack at the back, like a flittery toreodor's cape in a bull-fight.

It was red. The perfect shade of red. Not quite cherry and not quite orange. The shade Marilyn Monroe wore on her lips. Red-red. My favourite colour in the box.

I touched it. It was shiny (but not satin shiny, polyester shiny and machine-washable) and silky to touch. A muted crushed, nicely draping kinda shiny. It was nipped in at the waist and came just above the knee (a respectable length while still being 'now' and 'hip'). It had a demure rounded scoop neck that showed decolletage, but not cleavage, and short sleeves that were slightly ruched, coming out from the waist like mini bat-wings. It was essentially loose feeling, but accentuated the right bits on me.

I added to my pile of try-ons, just to see what it would look like on. Not intending to really buy it. Just curious. How naive.

It had seduced me but I thought I could still 'just cuddle' without having to go all the way.

Then I tried it on. It slid on perfectly. I didn't even have to suck anything in or adjust any bra straps or imagine how much better it would look with a little layering or a belt. It was perfect just as it was.

It said, 'This is Kate. Kate is red. Red is sexy. This is the dress to wear on a date. You need to go on a date.'

So I bought it.

I didn't need it. I bought two dresses that were actually on sale last week, both of which I like. But they are imperfect. They need accessories and pinching in and adjusting and leggings and belts. They are needy dresses.

This dress makes me happy. It doesn't need anything else. I could wear it with no accessories at all. It is whole.

I don't know where I will actually wear it. I don't really do cocktails and night-life anymore. Everybody else has mortages. I could wear a cardie and flats and smuggle it into work or a casual dinner in town. I don't really want to taint it with ordinary experiences though. It is not meant to be constrained in the domestic sphere. It is a femme fatale dress . It wants freedom and excitement and venetian blinds.

It might be that nobody else likes my dress. They might think it's too plain or too something else. They may not even notice it. But I'll know they're wrong.

I think the best kind of dating is when you like the person you're with and you don't care what anyone else thinks. You like it if nobody else thinks they're hot - less competition for you. Their loss. At least he's with someone who appreciates him.

And so it is with my dress. My Perfect Dress.





For now.

Next season is another story.

(I must confess I have an almost addictive obsession for buying dresses at the moment - I should do some kind of photo montage of all the dresses I've bought since about last November. It's scary. It probably needs to stop - and having found The Perfect Dress I can now end my epic search and perhaps move on to shoes. My feet have been sorely neglected.)

Glorious Lunch

This year I have started sneaking out for lunch more often.

The Exit - Furitve Glances and Palmed Wallets

There is something magical about driving out of the school gates and getting jealous and suspicious glances from your colleague on gate duty. And it really is sneaking. While we're 'allowed' to leave school grounds, there are always social politics about who to invite and how many people can fit in the car. For quick and efficient get-aways only small groups work - I'd say 2-4 people is ideal. Any more and you faff around waiting for each other too long, and you inevitably lose somebody on the way to the car or somebody forgets their wallet and has to run back up. Any more and you can't actually bitch about what's gone wrong that morning for fear of offending somebody.

The Unlucky Ones - Those Left Behind

Once outside the gates there is a freedom you just can't feel when you sit cooped up in the staffroom for lunch. Sitting up there you have to wait in line for the toaster, squeeze past other people to get to the fridge/drawer/cupboard in a kind of awkward waltz that ensues in a space too small for the 60 people who use it.

Then while you sit eating your lunch, glancing over whatever section of the Dom Post you can find on the table, you have to surive the virutal gauntlet of colleagues walking through who might want a 'quick word' about a student or to remind you about some piece of admin you haven't done and the students who ask to see you (who wait at the other end of a maze of corridors, which you have to wearily navigate before you can find out whether or not they were worth interrupting your cup of tea for).

Teachers do not see the lunch hour as a sacred time of eating and socialising. They see it as an opportunity to find people they need stuff from. If they're teaching all day, this is the only time they have for such things. They're opportunists.

Anyhow.

Back to my escaping.

Coffee - The Price of Ambience

This year there are various breakaway groups of us who go out for lunch. These may have always existed (I'm sure they have) but I have always balked at the idea. In the past I would have considered it some kind of mission impossible to leave the grounds, get a park, have lunch and get back before the bell. Thus I would always diligently say, 'No thanks' when asked.

But this year I'm all for it.

Regular haunts include Deluxe and Salvation, both of which have excellent coffee, nice food and quick service. Then for something different there's the Brookly Bakery or Mojo's. For a takeaway treat there's Moore Wilson's (and I've become addicted to their flavoured broad bean snacks).

I have managed to add in trips to favourite shops into my lunch time jaunts. I can easily pop into Miss Wong or Magnolia if I'm at that end of town. There's something delicious about coming back to work with new stuff.

Home - The Bastion of Domesticity

Yesterday I even managed to come home for lunch. It's strange how coming home on a sunny day made me want to do chores I would usually avoid. I hung out my washing, emptied the dish-washer, tidied my room a little. My theory is that in the morning I'm in a rush and in the evening I'm tired, so neither of them is any good for chores. Then the weekend comes and there are much better things to do, or everything has built up so much that it's daunting. Lunch time chores are the ultimate solution!

Then I made my first sandwich of the year. I sat and watched 15 minutes of Dr Phil while I ate it. Bliss! Then I MySkyed the Oscars and some other TV shows I didn't want to miss that day.

Lunch rules.

(Then there are still the days where I barely have time to eat a few crackers because I had to stay behind in class talking to kids, then there was an urgent email to respond to, then there was photo-copying to do for my afternoon classes.)

Having raved about lunch, it's only fair to mention that I also love breakfast. Cereal rules.

Super Powers

I was using MSN Messenger the other day, and I remembered that I am 'invisible' to some people on there.

And I thought, 'Hmph - looks like I've achieved that childhood dream.'

Then I got to thinking, what other super power did I want to have? Maybe the ability to fly. Well, GoogleEarth has kinda covered that fantasy too with its birds-eye shots.

More-so with the desire to be invisible, the internet really has hooked into that fascination society has. There is a delectable array of ways in which you can be nosy and voyeuristic. A massive amount of time is spent observing things, but without being a part of them. We can find out the intimate details of people's lives, without ever having to look them in the eye. We can flip through their photo albums, watch videos of them, read their thoughs, all without them consciously knowing we're there and doing it.

That anonymity and invisibility is a big part of what I like about the internet. I can choose when people see me, I can choose to tip-toe through un-noticed. I can find out all about someone else without them knowing anything about me. They can't hide.

Of course, I leave my electronic footprints and fingerprints, just like a real invisible person might. But it's still pretty neat.

I'm going to think more on what other traditional super powers the internet is accessing for me.

A Brush with Fame - OMG!

Last week my flatmate Geoff told me he had some geek conference to go to. Webstock.

I mocked him.

He told me to go check out the website.

I mocked him some more. I looked at the guest speakers and pointed out what kind of geeky each one was.

Then I saw him....

OMG!1!!

Rives.

My favourite performance poet (ok - to be fair, the only performance poet I know of really - but I am loyal) ever. A guy I came across on the Ted site ages ago and posted about how cool he was. I heart him much.

I told Geoff he had to go see him and that this was a man I would marry. He's good looking, entertaining, talented and knows about Shakespeare. And is romantic (according to his kite poem, anyhow).

Geoff watched some of his videos on Youtube and Ted and agreed he was pretty cool. Then he mocked me for liking a guest speaker at his geek fest. Turns out the emcee of the night was Russell Brown, the host of Media7, who I also like (but I haven't told Geoff that).

Geoff ended up seeing him perform at Webstock and posted a comment on my facebook wall to make me jealous. I was in awe.

Then afterwards... he talked to him for half an hour! I was in more awe. At first he made me believe he'd told Rives I wanted to marry him (which at first horrified me, but then I was coming to terms with it and liked the idea - I was going to use it as an hilarious anecdote next time I showed a class one of his performances).

This was untrue. But he did tell Rives I was a 'huge fan'. So Rives gave him a collector's edition badge with his face on it to give to me. A present! To me! From Rives!

And he told Geoff (who has now started a bromance with him and is trying to become his NZ agent) that he was looking for gigs for the few weeks he was here, but had nothing lined up yet. Geoff is looking for opportunities and open mic nights.

Geoff even had the balls to tell him that he preferred the version of the poem he performed that he'd seen on youtube to the live version of the day. What a critic. As if he'd heard of him more than 48 hours before the event. Not a true fan, not like me.

I may yet see Rives live!

Geoff is my hero.

So is Rives.

I love my badge.

I'm trying to think who else I would like to come visit Wellington and give me a badge. Right now I'm drawing a blank. None of my famous crushes are as cool as Rives.

Maybe the guy who plays Sheldon. But he's prbably not as cool in real life.




* * *
I have just wasted a lot of time clicking on all my links and favourited sites.... I have decided that this act is called 'clinking around'.

Every night when I go home from work (ok - so I'm a teacher, sometimes it's afternoon still) I exit Mt Vic and head towards the tunnel.

At the bottom of Mt Vic you have to give way to Basin traffic and wait til someone lets you in.

And every night, almost immediately, somebody leaves a gap for me and motions me forward.

It restores my faith in humanity every day. Sometimes I really need that.

* * *

I like how the Netherlands wear orange as their national colour. It's neat. I wish we had a more predominant national colour.

* * *

Ice skating is awesome. It's surprising how often the skaters fall, even at the top level. I've been watching, and it's really rare for anyone to have a completely perfect run. I love the triple lutz.

* * *

I am embracing my niche at school - I am the champion of the quirky kids and kids on the spectrum. It's official.

I have in the last day had
- the head girl email me her idea about writing a school rap (it's quirkly cool - the second line has a taunt that we make other schools 'fidgety' - buuurn! Yeah Upper Hutt, we're talking about you!)
- had a girl with Asperger's approach me to find out who she could ask about doing a presentation to the school on International Autism Day (I have never even taught the child and yet she gave me a present for Christmas last year)

I love it.

SPRINKLES!

Why waste time making an icecream when you can just eat the sprinkles right from the lid? Clever kid! Kingi is very proud of himself.

* * *

Holy crap. Let the bridesmaid dress diet begin.

My friend sent over a bridesmaid dress from the UK and I tried it on today.

Were I svelte, the dress would be stunning.

I have about six weeks to get svelterer and do justice to a satin dress.

The generous portion of desert I had and the bag of chippies I followed it up with are sitting heavily in my tummy (which is protruding island-like out of my shiny silver dress).

If I fail in that mission, I will at least contribute valuably to the wedding party by making the bride look even more petite and gorgeous by comparison. My job will be done.

The photographer will just have to delicately ask the groomsmen to obscure my rolly bits in the photos. I will be this little head peeking out from the back. Or maybe I can get a really big bunch of flowers to hold in front of myself.

* * *

I have found an online radio station that must be run by people of my generation and ilk. Roo Radio.

* * *

I emerged victorious from the scuffle of Risk. The first game hardly counted, because I was powerless to do anything against the might of Kirsten on the other side of the board. I seemed to be positioned right in the middle of Richard and Sam, both trying to progress through the centre of me.

* * *

My wisdom tooth has been hurting. Might have to be extracted.

* * *

A student teacher saw someone giving out stickers to a class and said later, 'Is that age appropriate?' Hah. Amateur.

* * *

I have had two very good cheesecakes in the last couple of weeks. One from the South African food stall at the Saturday art market. One from the German bakery in Kilbirnie.

* * *

There have been a couple of good personell changes at work. It's got a good vibe for me at the moment. Have been out for coffee several times - in the middle of the day. Indulgent!

* * *

I have not worn anything but dresses and skirts to work so far.

* * *

I didn't know Canada was famous for its fiddle playing.

* * *

I decluttered my room slightly. I have a bookshelf in my boot ready to give to Cassie.

* * *

I am trying to brainwash my students that James Cameron is rubbish. They're not caving in though.

* * *

I'm going to have takeaways. Haven't decided what kind. Should do that now.

When the moon hits your eye

Rich and I went on a very romantic stroll around the waterfront on Saturday night, and it left me feeling much amore for Wellington. Whoever came up with the 'You can't beat Wellington (on a good day)' slogan was so right. Sounds like a back-handed compliment, but we Wellingtonians are a hardy bunch and the bitter makes the sweet oh-so-much-sweeter. We are a city of contrasts, a city of surprise and change.

The song 'Four Seasons in One Day' seems to capture our fair city's essence, or perhaps the Shakespeare quote about Cleopatra's wonderful and 'infinite variety'. The predictable is not for us. Auckland can take its constantly good weather. How dull! How complacent you would become! If not the weather, what you find to complain about together?

So, with the gentle reverberating of the ACDC concert dancing over the harbour, and the gentle chaffing of my new jandals between my toes, we walked along enjoying the warm stillness of the night.

It was the fifth day of sun in a row. Glorious!

And today it's raining. Ah. What a much needed reprieve from the passionate throes of the summery week. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Take-Away Heaven

Hataitai now has a Japanese take-out shop. My world is complete. Teriyaki chicken bento box is $12.90. I might try the ginger chicken udon next.

I love a meal with lots of bits and pieces and even the little salads taste yummy. And they have free green tea for you to drink while you wait.

I love that my four year old neice admits when she's feeling shy. I wish I could still do that - but as a grown-up you have to fake it.

I was at a wedding yesterday where I didn't know many people well, and I'm not good at chit-chat at the best of times. I could understand my neice's sentiment. Early on she hid behind a couch in the house and and her nana found her there quietly crying to herself because nobody would play with her and she was feeling shy around the dozens of people.

Aww.

Aunty Kate looked after her for a bit after that, my little kindred spirit. She sat on my knee during the ceremony.

I'm stuck between generations in that family. My step-mother's kids are all late thirties early forties, with growing up kids. And the next generation are early 20s and below. I sat with the 20-somethings at dinner, and a few other stragglers joined us. Luckily I was sat next to a guy who reminds me of Richard and he was easy to talk to.

I have another wedding coming up where I suspect I'll end up feeling 'shy' as well. Hope there's a couch for me to hide behind.

Three things I did Last Year (of no particular importance)

1. Learnt to play the Ukulele

This is much, much easier than playing the guitar. And more portable. For the amateur musician (one who likes singing along more than actually caring about how the instrument sounds) I'd thoroughly recommend it. It's also really cheap and easy to self-learn. Not to mention how hip it is.

2. Used up a Loyalty Card

Traditionally I lose or don't use my loyalty cards. This year I actually bought ten books at Unity, so got a free one! I have entered a book buying phase - as an English teacher, I think it's appropriate. I also ordered my first books off Amazon last week.

3. Started Buying Fish

I have never really bought fresh fish from the supermarket. I started doing it every now and then this year. It's good. I like to cook it the way my dad did (when he had to take over cooking duties in my late teen years) - put a piece in tin foil, with tomatoe and onion slices and butter, pop in oven for 15 minutes or so.

* * *

I like that I will have eaten dinner away from home 4 of the last 7 nights.

* * *

Self Assurance

I'm trying to define that almost intangible quality that separates people I want to be friends with from people who annoy me.

I think self-assurance is attractive in friends. In most people, really. Especially if you can achieve it without having ego issues.

Maybe I'm straying into what I like in a colleague there - it peeves me when other teachers let their ego get in the way of kids' learning. Some teachers get really offended when a kid in their class seeks advice from a different teacher, or if someone else uses their resource without giving them credit. There aren't many reasons to really protest situations like those, other than 'it hurt my ego' and that's a selfish attitude for a teacher to have.

My attitude here is contenscious and it's actually senior staff at our school who I most often see these traits in.... Maybe one day I'll be more like that - I may still be naive about some things. Maybe it's a carry-over from the days of the bell-curve and Sixth Form Certificate, when you were actually competing with your colleagues for a finite set of grades.

I think in the NCEA era that this attitude is outdated.

Anyhow, it comes into friendship too. I like people who can handle a debate without taking it personally. For example, they're not going to take it as a personal attack if I say that they're right-wing scum for liking Act. It can also come into sports (and most of my friends play or have played sports... actually maybe in NZ that's not an unusual thing).

I think even playing a team sport takes a certain level of self-assurance, but you don't want to let any given performance define who you are or how you think people see you. Maybe self-assured people can have a crap game, and admit that without expecting sympathy.

I think what I'm thinking of here is a more complex set of traits and I've over-simplified it. I guess pride is a factor in there - what is the relationship between pride and self-assurance?

Actually, given my own definition I might not even want to be friends with myself. My self assurance disappears in sitations like dancing, or if I'm playing in a higher basketball grade.

Maybe I should limit that to self-assurance in at least some aspects of life, particularly intellectual areas. Most of my friends are smart in that way, and they know it. I've had friends who don't want to come to pub quizzes because they're self-conscious about not knowing enough, but the vast majority of my friends love such things.

And maybe those who come anyhow are self-assured enough to know that trivia-knowledge isn't really that important, and so there's no shame in being bad at it. But then, maybe competitive spirit comes into it too - some people just don't get a buzz out of that environment, but will happily have animated chats about random facts over coffee.

That's rather a ramble.

The wind never stops.

I'm excited about the Japanese takeaway shop that's opened down in the village. Most H'town eateries are closed this time of year (including both the cafes) - it's a ghost town.

Read another book - this one won a Pullitzer Prize, but I didn't love it. I found the end kinda unsatisfying, though the middle was good. That's two and a bit books so far these holidays - not bad. I have a few more to go.

I'm ok with people calling this decade 'twenty-ten'.

I went for a walk up Mt Vic yesterday and my lack of fitness was evident.

The new plan for New Years is dinner at Hatai-Thai. It's BYO! And I live around the corner, so cocktails there afterwards-slash-before. And maybe some board or card games. It may just be me, Cass, Nicky and Cass's brother. Anyone else is welcome to join us.

The camping thing didn't work out. I hadn't really made much effort into getting equipment, I hadn't found a friend t0 go up with me (my friends are non-camping types) and then I found out my favourite relatives aren't even going.... The appeal dwindled. I'd also forgotten there was a family wedding on January 8th.... A lot of family time!

* * *

And let me remind people about the fun, free events on in Wellington this week.

There is the uni-cycling world champs! I'm keen to go to something that's on at TSB Arena one night - that's where the artistic competitions are. I wanna see tricks! [I can't vouch that this is free - no mention of costs on any of the programmes.]
And the City Gallery is free every second Wednesday for anyone who hasn't seen the dots exhibition yet, or wants to see it again. That falls on December 30th, so free this Wednesday!

My four year old niece is charming. As soon as I arrived at their house on Christmas Eve she grabbed me by the hand and started showing me her best things.

I watched her jump off the couch many different ways, exclaiming how clever she was each time. I helped her brush her teeth and watched a bit of an Ariel cartoon with her in bed.

I slept on the couch in the room with the presents. So at about 6.30am I started seeing the bigger kids peering in through the door. They whispered about Santa's handwriting, and the older kid said to her brother, 'Look at it next to the others - you don't think they're the same?' and her brother earnestly said, 'No.' Cute. Their mum reckons they're at the age where they don't actually believe anymore, but they don't want to admit it.

The little one opened all her toys and said, 'Just what I wanted!' to each one. I like that she was the most excited by the giant lollypop she got, which her mum had told me the night before was the one thing she had really asked for. I then spent ages getting new dolls out of their packaging - it's not easy!

Then other bits of the family arrived. And the eating began.

My brother liked his giant box of beef jerky (24 packs). I knew he would. I quietly agreed to buy the Whitcoull's voucher someone gave him off him (last time he bought something at a book-shop is when he used to read GI Joe comics at primary school).

I have a nice family. Everyone had a good time and nobody complained. The kids all played together well (though the two 4 year old cousins somehow got into a bunch of paints in the shed and came out red-handed, with splatters and smears all over their new clothes - from what their parents said to them afterwards, I'm guessing at that age the concept of only painting on paper is still in need of reinforcing).

* * *

Boxing day, I casually decided to go to the sales out at Lyall Bay. I was just noting to myself that the streets were eerily empty on the way out there, right up until I was half-way down the road from the complex... when I saw car carnage.

There were queues of cars waiting to just drive into the parking lot... after circling the lot three times unsuccessfully and being on the verge of either an anxiety attack (because I was almost trapped in the grid-lock) or road-rage, I figured a wee walk in the ocean air was less stressful than getting carpark-rage.

I got some grown-up things - two new sets of sheets (Egyptian cotton high thread count, of course), a new ironing board (mine had had a lump in the middle of it since I took it home from the shop in the bus) and a lint brush. Lint brushes are amazing! I can't believe I've never had one before. My life has now changed forever - I can't believe what a lint covered slob I have been all this time. The shame.

I spent the afternoon watching stuff I'd taped on My-Sky (we just got it last week - so the novelty of it has not worn off) and giving myself a foot-spa (a present from last Christmas that I figured I should give a go finally). I now understand why they include the fluffy white slippers in the pack - it is exactly what your feet feel like wearing after they're pampered.

My secret pleasure at the moment is watching 'Shear Genius', a reality show where hairdressers get pitted against each other in weird challenges. In today's episode they firstly had to do the Meg-Ryan-shag on a mannequin's head, then they had to use house-hold items to cut hair (one lady had a massive set of hedge-clippers, but actually did a decent job).

Merry Christmas.

Oriental Bay on a slightly blustery Christmas Eve Afternoon, where everything is a relative ghost-town as people either head off around the country or fear the fictitious Christmas-Eve-crush in the city.

I have a post-chocolate-feasting head-ache. Detox time!

Christmas Eve Eve Eve

1. A Serious Film

I was Rich's movie-buddy for the week and we took in 'A Serious Man' by the Coen Brothers. I'd read reviews that warned me about it, so wasn't shocked by its bleakness. It was.... odd. Interesting. And.... very bleak.

As we were leaving, still trying to decipher what the ending meant (it cuts off at a really odd place) Richard did ask me, 'Is there anyone you recommend that to?' and I drew a blank. Perhaps I am underestimating the oddness of my friends and their tastes, but it's certainly not likely to be a main-stream success. Don't go to it based on liking 'No Country for Old Men' or 'The Big Lebowski' or 'O Brother Where Art Thou'. It's a different kettle of fish.

I do like the Coen Brothers. As with their others, this film is well made and clever. And in the book I'm reading (mentioned in previous post) it talks about how a lot of artists say they like to play around with the white space, or silence, in their work.... and that is what the Coen Brothers like to do. There are lots of bits with long, awkward silences where all you can hear is someone stirring their tea or the sound of a machine sucking the fluid out of the uncle's cyst [a detail entirely fitting the tone of the movie, but one I could have done without].

It's certainly a film worthy of discussion and study, more-so than 'Avatar'. One to ponder. Much like a movie like 'Citizen Kane' is a worthy film, though not necessarily easy to watch. I'm not saying it's in that category of film, just that it had lots of unexplained bits you could discuss. Whereas a rom-com might be more enjoyable and easy to watch, but you really don't have a lot of points to ponder afterwards. I have faith that the things I don't quite understand about the film (like, what was the whole prologue about and how was it relevant to the story? and was the Jefferson Airplane song more significant than I realised?) were carefully done and if I listened to a director's commentary on it I would be impressed by the cleverness of it all.

I liked the main character - he certainly was a serious man. Very likable - he took life's knocks with a certain grace, though you'd want to shake him into action at times. For me, that made the film more enjoyable than something like 'The Reader' where I didn't like any of the characters.

And there was some dark humour in there - funny moments. Actually, the whole thing was kinda funny - not in a LOL way, but in a HEH kinda way. All the situations were dealt with in a humorous way - the humour of awkwardness. The tone was very Coen-ish throughout in that regard.

I'd say it was the Coen Brothers being a bit self-indulgent (I've read this is the most autobiographical film they've done). It's a quality film, but it has a very unresolved narrative.

Certainly not everyone's cup of tea, but I'm glad I saw it.

2. On Demand

I've been trolling the TVNZ site for shows and clips to watch. I found this one about 'Larping' and watched it, since I think I know lots of people that do it.... was hoping I'd recognise more people in it!

3. Waterfront Pictures

I am reading a book. A book about music and the brain. And psychology and neuro-science stuff. It's called "This is Your Brain on Music".

So far I have read the introduction and I like these two bits:

"Whenever humans come together for any reason, music is there: weddings, funerals, graduation from college, men marching off to war, stadium sporting events, a night on the town, prayers, a romantic dinner, mothers rocking infants to sleep, and college students studying with music as a background. Even more so in nonindustrialised cultures than in modern Western societies, music is and was part of the fabric of everyday life. Only relatively recently in our own culture, five hundred years or so ago, did a distinction arise that cut society in two, forming separate classes of music performers and music listeners. Throughout most of the world and for most of human history, music making was as natural an activity as breathing and walking, and everyone participated. Concert halls, dedicated to the performance of music, arose only in the last several centuries."

"Why do people seem to get stuck in their musical tastes as they grow older and cease experimenting with new music?"

* * *

Lots of things the author is bringing up are things I've had moments of wondering about.

Just last night I was talking to Billy, and he was describing how sometimes at the Welsh Dragon bar (which has a lot of Brits and travellers) lots of people turn up and sing songs together. Songs that he has never heard before, but which most people at the bar seem to join in for, a Capella. It's something that's missing in modern kiwi culture.

And I've been noticing for years that I hardly ever 'discover' new bands that I like. I've forgotten how to do it.... or I just don't like anything new.... or my brain is full up with things I already like. Not sure.

For many a year, up until I was at university, my dad was pretty 'hip' with the music and liked new artists that were coming out, like Ben Harper and Bjork. But now he's quite content with his old stuff and makes funny faces if I play him something new. Ever since he evolved to liking jazz.


I hope somewhere in the book I can find a justification for my SingStar obsession that makes it sound cultured and evolutionarily advanced.

The examples the author uses to explain timbre or rhythm or pitch are from music that I know, like Buddy Holly and the Beatles and Paula Abdul (he raves about the musical complexity of 'Straight Up'). And I never realised that the 'ABC Song' had the same melody as 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star'. Not consciously, anyhow.

I look forward to reading more!

Walking along today (slightly stiffly - like a really really cool robot, I like to think) I saw some middle-aged ladies.

They had on sensible-shoes. With cushiony soles and velcro straps.

I hope I never have to wear old lady shoes. If I do, it will be a sign that I've given up. Or at least, my body has.

My back has returned to 90% power. Phew.

I did not like having to psyche myself up just to bend over and reach for the remote control on the table (it reminded me of when you've applied wax strips to your leg, and you have that moment of hesitation before you rip it off, because you know you are about to inflict sharp pain on yourself).

* * *

Where the Wild Things Are.

Interesting film. Nobody came out of it raving - at best people were defensively satisfied.

I liked it. As much out of loyalty to Spike Jonze as to the book its based on. But of its own account it was nicely made. I guess the criticisms of it would be that it didn't have a whole lot of emotional depth and it got fairly repetitive in its narrative cycle. Have destructive, wild fun. Feel lonely and sad afterwards. Repeat.

But it was nicely filmed, had a good sound-track, great special effects. And it had 'moments' that held gravity without having to say a lot. I liked how when he returned home at the end, him and his mother didn't even say a word - there were just lingering close-ups on their faces, showing all kids of love/regret/relief/apologies/understanding.

We talked afterwards about how, while we didn't love the casting of Max, it was understandable that for the story they were telling you probably couldn't have used a younger/cuter kid.

Anyhow... Jonze films are good for their 'look' and their seamless switching from reality to fantasy, using sometimes low-tech special effects and their quirkiness. This one didn't have the unpredictablity of his others and there wasn't the character development, but I guess the story didn't call for those things.

As a youngest child, I understood his pain and frustration.

$!#$%@#$%@#$%

I have quite a sore back today. Sorer than I can remember experiencing before.

I hurt it a bit at netball, playing defence. Then I played centre and it hurt even more. Then I got home and could not quite walk comfortably unless I stooped. Then I started reading the Timetravellor's Wife and read til 4am somehow... then couldn't get to sleep anyhow because my back hurt no matter what way I tried to lie. Got two hours sleep, maybe three. Gotup at 10.30 because I wasn't tired anyhow.

Then it hurts more today.

I will trek (or drive) down to the pharmacy and see if I can get better drugs. Owie.

I feel like swearing a lot. STUPID @#$@#$@#$ NETBALL!

* * *

Ahhh. Nurofen Plus. And a wheatie bag applied to lower back. I hardly ever take drugs - one Panadol at most. A few times a year.

Having four of them this morning before going to the chemist was not kind on my empty stomache. Had to go to the bakery after the chemist to get a big bread roll. Now I look forward to my pie at Sweet Mother's because it will be time to have more drugs, not because pie is delicious.

For now I can lie in bed for hours reading. And my back only hurts when I get up to close the curtain because the sun is too hot.

This 'Timetraveler's Wife' is very readable. Makes me want to travel in time. I have less than 100 pages left - that's fast reading for me, since I started at 11pm last night.

December 14th, 1993

Today marks a symmetry point in my life, in a way. I was 16 on the day my mother died. I'm 32 on this anniversary of her death.

That means I've lived half my life with her alive and half without. For some reason, the next bit seems like unchartered territory for me. It was always somewhat comforting that she'd at least been with me over half my life.

Lady of Leisure

Social Calendar

What a great start to my holidays....

Sunday - Maria's Bowling Club Christmas Party

I'm catching the bus out to some Hutt bowling club with Michelle for some cheap Christmas drinks, organised by Maria and others.

Monday - Lovely Bones Premiere

Me and Cass are going to park up for a good view of celebs at the Embassy red carpet event (6pm).

Tuesday - Wild Things

Going with Rich and co to 'Where the Wild things Are' at Embassy after 6pm some time.

Wednesday - Carols

Going with Cass to Carols in the Park (Waitangi Park from 7pm). Blanket and picnic! Must leave early for 9pm netball though....


If anyone wants to come to the premiere or carols in the park let me know. The more the merrier!
* * *

It Makes me Proud

I got a card from one of my all-time fav students (if I had favourites, that... which I don't....). She's just finished 7th form and it was one of the nicest cards ever.

I like this bit - 'I really like that you're a bit weird like me and my friends - I think it's a great attribute'. Aww!

Her and another kid (both of whom are quite quirky, to be fair) said I was one of the friendliest teachers they'd had. I'll take that!

* * *

A Juxtaposition

At 8pm on Friday night I was having a wine and pizza at that bar/cafe on the corner of Willis and Manners Streets (next to where the movie theatre used to be and it goes kinda below street level a tiny bit). I walked in and there was a guy who looked tallish, sitting down with a friend playing chess and wearing a Rock Shop tshirt. I thought he could be my boyfriend. I didn't talk to him though.

Later on the two girls I was with had a game of chess. They didn't know how to play so I had to teach them - couldn't quite remember how to 'castle' and which was nearest the king at the start out of the knight and bishop.... but I remembered the rest of it. It's been a while! I like chess.

About three hours later we were considerably drunker, having downed two bottles of champagne and six shots between us. We were out with other staff from school and some flatmates of staff. Two of the men in the party got in a fight on the foot-path in Courtenay Place. Some people ended up at A and E while one of the flatmates got stitches in his eye.

Rock 'n roll! Since I have a pretty mature bunch of friends, that may be the first time I've been with people who've had a fight like that..... makes me feel young again. Had I not been quite drunk at the time, I would have been deeply disturbed. There was blood.

The Silly Season is Nigh

1. PJ

Sam has done a thorough enough post on the PJ concert. Everyone I know who went was fairly unanimous about it was o for awesome. I was glad we got tickets in the front of the field and got to do some gentle moshing (we diverted any ungentle looking people who tried to push into our possie).

They really do have a lot of good songs and I was suprised at how good their most recent stuff sounded live too.

My friend Iona was an ideal host - dropped us off and picked us up. A guy at work who caught the train said that after the concert the train was just packed with PJ fans who had drugded in there... and he suddenly got the idea that if there was some crazy person out there who hated PJ, this would be the ideal way to eliminate them en mass..... the train could be going anywhere....

2. Frujus

I got a pack of Frujus a couple of weeks ago when Sam and Rich and co came around for take-aways. Kinda forgot about them.... but have had them all in the last few days.

I'd forgotten how damned good they are! I have a very satisfying routine going with sucking the juice out of the edges, then biting them off.

3. Tiny Stormtroopers

This person's photo collection tickles my fancy. It's two little stormtrooper figurines getting up to all kinds of mischief and adventures. Vader appears sometimes too.

Get Amongst it, Lassie

I quite like this article on stuff about the soccer-girl who yanked down the other player by her ponytail. It's a nice media dissection of the responses.

I tend to agree that it's rather blown out of proportion, when you consider that the male equivalent might be a guy yanking another guy down by his shoulder. That would never make international news. It's just a part of soccer, which is a dirty, dirty game. It was a pretty rubbish thing to do, and it might have hurt a bit, but it was in the heat of the moment and it was done to try to get free, rather than to try and maim her.

I certainly wouldn't want to play against her since she seems to like elbowing people in the kidneys, but the few games of soccer I've watched all looked fairly brutal and it's a game where only the most blatant of fouls seem to get the ref's attention. This culture leads players towards getting away with as much as they can off the ball, or even on the ball. If you wanna make up a little high-light reel of all the times she took out players during the match, then it's more of a criticism of the ref than of her.

I wonder, with our rather 'butch' female culture, if this incident would've been as controversial if it had happened in NZ. I like to think we applaud our female athletes for being rough and tough. I guess we don't support them to the point of unsportsmanlike behaviour, but to be fair only two of the things she did on that clip were grossly beyond fair contention for the ball.

Shh - Maybe Nobody Saw

That leads me to the French saga. As I was saying to Michelle and Sam tonight, I'm not going to criticise the guy who got away with the hand-ball. That kinda thing happens in sport, and if the ref had called it he probably would've nodded and got on with the game.... but sometimes when it doesn't get called, you're kinda taken aback (especially when it's that blatant) and you go with it out of shock. It's the ref's job to call up infringements - there is no onus on players to always be honest (especially at that top level).

Ultimate Frisbee is the only sport where that happens.

Certainly in most sports, if the ref misses something, you're not going to go back and make him change his call. In basketball, if I made a game-winning defensive play, but knew that I'd fouled the player, there's no way I'd say, 'Excuse me ref - but I fouled her, give her some free-throws.' Doesn't work like that. You might just quietly say to the player, 'Tough break - I probably fouled you there,' at the most.

I guess there would be something very noble about having owned up to it, but you can't play 'what-if'. If he'd refused to take the goal, then some die-hard French fan who was pissed off that his country didn't make the World Cup might've fire-bombed his house or something. You can't please everybody, and you've only got a few seconds in which to make that judgement call.

I guess that's one of the nice things about cricket, the expectation of honesty when the ref messes up a call. It's quite a unique and gentlemanly honour-code. It would be a real test of character to see if a batsman would own up knicking the ball in an equivalent situation - say, the final over of a World Cup final, where his team had no wickets left and needed a few runs to win it.

But soccer sure ain't cricket. Apples and oranges.

I have sampled the TV show 'Glee'.

It has its funny moments. Not 'Big Bang Theory' hilarious, but mildly amusing. They usually occur when the evil ex-cop cheerleading coach is around.

My two biggest criticisms are
1) That the singing is so obviously computerised to be perfect pitch. It has those awful Cher-like mechanical trills in it. I'm not going to be impressed by that - but would be impressed by a real voice singing pretty well, albeit imperfectly.
2) After two episodes, it seems that every single show will have the line 'But we're not like them [the popular kids] - that's why we're in Glee club, where we can be ourselves' (said as one of them looks wistfully at a hot cheerleader or cool guy).

Play it again, Sam

I can't remember what it was called, but on Sunday nights there used to be that TV requests show, hosted by Jay Lagaia and sponsored by Minties.

I love how Youtube serves the same function now.

Here are two TV moments I looked up out of nostalgia....

The Cosby Show: Challenge!
The Critic: El Kabong!
Rip Tide: Intro!
Whiz Kids: Theme

At some point you realise....

[photo irrelevant to first part of post]

That nobody is perfect.

I have realised this about bosses (realised it about my parents years ago). Facades have crumbled all around me!

I have been at a workplace long enough to see a total change in management. There seem to be two types of people who have these jobs - the charismatic and decisive ones who don't follow through and like to pass the buck and the methodical but over-consulting ones who are afraid of taking firm stands on things.

While people heavily critique the current management for whatever flaw they have, as soon as they get replaced, the same people will miss them and wish the new ones had their strengths (forgetting about the weaknesses).

It's an interesting thing to observe.

I just try and do my job as autonomously as possible and remember that weaknesses are often complemented by strengths and vice versa.

For example, I am 'disorganised' (though I could explain the method to my madness - it's more of a 'just-in-time' production technique) but I also adapt well when things don't go to plan. If I find myself in a Mexican stand-off with another teacher at the door to a computer room we both thought we booked, I can handle backing away to Plan B, rather than watch the other anally-prepared teacher begin to self-implode in the uncertainty of the moment.

Anyhow.

People of my generation are starting to be these wonderfully flawed leaders. Crap.

* * *

I was with Cassie at Count Down in the Hutt, when I came across something cool.

A basket on wheels! It's a mini-trolley that is light and handles really well, taking up hardly any space in the aisles, yet holding enough groceries for a single-lady. It's the Formula 1 trolley of the supermarket.

They are, of course, designed for the elderly, but glaciers also like to lean on things whenever possible.

* * *

I found this website that works like a search engine, but for pictures....

I seem to often match up with Asian women (I think it's the fringe) and when I have my hair pulled back I'm a dead ring-in for an Indian man (evidently) and it sometimes confuses my hair for a helmet.

Here is Jon and his similar images (he matches up with male models, lucky bugger).

Luckily I had lots of photos of Jon lying around, him being a photo-hog and all.

* * *

I found this interesting.

I am part of a modern social phenomenon - 'Women's Creation of Camera Phone Culture'.

Preface

I've eaten my way through a box of Cadbury Favourites. I'd like to say I'd shared them, but 'share' is a word the single person does not have the luxury of using. And thus the vicious cycle continues...

Anyhow, I was quite disappointed. I don't really like the changes they've made. It's all very bland and pastel and mushy. Where's the hard raspberry caramel that gives you jaw-cramp? Where's the caramel barrel that bursts into your mouth with gooey runny goodness? And they've added Cherry Ripes. Any candy based product based on coconut seems like a rip-off to me. Coconut is what Mum would sprinkle on the top of perfectly good chocolate slice to make it seem 'grown-up'. Ptooey to coconut, says Kate.

I digress.

In my chocolate eating haze I have been cruising the internet in a leisurely fashion. Leisurely in that I have no more senior classes to teach. So I'm not having to look up new and interesting stuff on wrestling or the newspaper industry. I can be totally frivalous and have no agenda! Bliss.

You will also note my blogging output has a correlation to school workload. Less work = more blog. Blogging is thinking. It's trying to formulate an opinion on something, or retell an event, in a cohesive way. I find it therapeutic. Am I allowed to call it a hobby? Will the people who produce solid, practical things from their hobbies laugh at me? Can I call it a hobby if I actually never get any better at it?

Anyhow, to have time and mind energy to blog is a good thing.

What I Like

I accidentally caught the end of Jools Holland tonight. I have decided to make a point of flicking onto Rialto every now and then, since for about the past 6 months I've forgotten it exists (I tend to go up to 9, then cycle back down - my world is limited).

And there was a girl on there that I liked. She is Imelda May. I actually only really liked the second song she did (which is later in the clip at 3mins12secs). Jools accompanies her on piano. It's jazzylicious.

I also like Colin Hay. I have decided to seek out some actual albums from him. I stumbled across him when I was being a pirate and getting songs from the Garden State sound track. He's done a lot of work on Scrubs.

I came across this song, which is one of my favourite post-break-up songs ever. I just like the sentiment of it. I like this song too, which is a bit more upbeat (a bit).

I like the sound of his voice (I have a thing for gravelly, story-telling singers) and I like the acoustic sound, and I also really like the lyrics.

I used to sing this song to myself back when I used to play guitar (that has been on hold since my flatmates put in enough barbed comments to make me self-conscious about playing - I have lost my callouses).

I like tangible, specific lyrics. I hate hyperboles too generic to mean anything (=Celine Dion).

Beck's lyrics are like poetry. I can't quite figure out what it means, but it sounds nice how it's all put together.

Crushed apple cider buzz.

Surround sound of Gomez's 'Rosalita'.

Niiiiiice.

* * *

Sometimes I wonder if my parents did me a dis-service by being so damned nice to me while I was growing up.

I have a pretty thin skin for mean people. A very thin skin - like an eyelid. I have a thick skin for a lot of things. But for meanness, I have a low threshold.

It can be excused in teenagers, who are still building their empathy stores (and who, for the most part, try really hard to be thoughtful). I could do without passive-aggressive shite from grown-ups.

* * *

I am beginning to lose faith in my scales.

They have fluctuated about 5kg in the last week or so - and I'm sure my body hasn't. Not having trustworthy scales sends me into some kind of existential angst - I'm not sure just how guilty I should be feeling! I want irrefutable evidence!

* * *

When you're in a hospital visiting someone, it's really hard to not cough.

* * *

Summer is a frustrating time when you live in a flat with no good out-door area.

* * *

On some levels I can still really respect my brother. He never has any money for treats. So, we were at the supermarket getting dinner and I said, 'I'll get you some stuff if you want anything.' He pauses thoughtfully and says, 'No.'

Then I insist, and he says, 'Ok - I could get some noodles.' He gets two six-packs of Trident noodles. I woulda bought him a lot more. I then insist he gets a treat as well. He gets a cake of chocolate.

* * *

I wonder if John Key's popularity has peaked. People are starting to talk about how the 2nd year tends to start to show the cracks.

* * *

I want to be friends with Sheldon.

Christmas Songs in my Head

1. My Husky Voice

My colleague said I should have recorded a new voice-mail message while I had my sexy-voice (in the early stages).

Had laryngitis again for a couple of days. It's the best of all the cool sounding diseases to have - you get visible symptoms, but feel pretty good inside! Great for sympathy, yet you can easily soldier on and look like a martyr when you actually feel better than you would with a run-of-the-mill head-cold.

It's quite an occupational hazard for a teacher. I had to plan a day of lessons where I had no need to talk - videos and essays, baby.

From googling my symptoms I have deduced that it probably somehow spread down from my impacted wisdom tooth, which seemed to infect that side of my mouth and lymph nodes a few days earlier. Either a viral or bacterial infection (I'm not sure of the difference). This is a good thing, since it means it was only acute laryngitis, rather than chronic. Chronic laryngitis means you need to go to something called a speech pathologist.

I don't like the idea of having a dying voice.

2. Healing the World

I spent quality time with my family today. My dad's wife had back surgery (relatively minor this time, though it went wrong and they had to operate again a couple of days later to take out a wonky screw, which means she can make good jokes about having a screw loose now).

Dad took me and my brother to the Michael Jackson movie. I paid though - a monumental ocassion, given my dad recently retired and it evidently costs $60 for three people to go to the movies and have ice creams! Who knew? I am now the bread-winner of the family.

I had cringed when I heard that was what we were seeing. It made sense, given my brother was a massive fan back in his youth.... And the first few minutes of the film made me cringe, with back up dancers gushing is a really put-on sort of way about how this was the highlight of their life.

But after that it was quite good. There was no narrator (they didn't mention his death at all), so it was just these really raw clips that showed the behind-the-scenes of the lead-up to a concert. You got to see the dance rehearsals and the band rehearsals. And I'd never realised how good his voice actually was - he's not like these modern pop singers who have to lip synch when they're live. He really is a perfectionist, but in a professional way. I liked seeing all the tiny details that they sorted out - the timing of everything is so intricate.

And he moved pretty good for an old fella. Certainly didn't look like a guy about to go into cardiac arrest or anything. It was actually better than a film of the live concert would have been, in terms of Michael being more animated and natural.

I liked it.