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!