When you don't write for ages....

There is a lot to say. Profound. But I can't be bothered with a big lengthy run down. That makes it not fun. So quick fire update. (For my records only, no entertainment value here)

I went to Phoenix Foundation at the botanical gardens with Couple number one at the flat (love is in the air everywhere oh dear bleh!) I don't mean that at all. I had a really good time, it was such an amazing atmosphere, huge turn out and they are really really good. And we had pumpkin pie and beer. Mmmm.

I behaved atrociously on friday night. Apologies to Luke for commandeering his bed (not that I was aware I had been put in it). I did have fun though, and it's fine if you wake up early enough in the morning that you are still drunk enough to stumble home. Will I ever learn? I kind of hope not.

So Saturday was a right off, but the newly engaged ones came over for a bbq that night and after having some food I was racing around in Mark's skate shoes (I had left mine at Luke's) playing football at Lyall Bay.

On Sunday I had to be really really productive and my acts of contrition included giving our flat a really good clean, as in cinderalla down on her knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. And then I went snorkelling all on my own because it was a beautiful beautiful day, Couple number two were off somewhere for a picnic I think and I don't wanna be a gooseberry and my snorkelling buddy is away at the moment.

Then I went to see Finding Neverland with a random assortment of boys. Peter Pan was my favourite fairytale and I once went to a book fair at primary school as the Indian princess Tiger Lily. All the other little girls were in their ballet tutus as tinkerbell or sleeping beauty and I went in a brown paper rubbish bag. I have to admit looking at the photo now that mum did a pretty awesome job of it. It was definitely a portent of my style to come though....

Speaking of mums, I'm tired of movies with plots such as that contained in Finding Neverland. Especially when there is no warning. Because I never normally cry at movies. It just reminds me that i'm not as tough as I think I am. I have been dreaming about her an awful lot lately...

Dr Firecracker

I had an interview with a Dr at work today. I'd checked with Management last week if I could go and meet her at the airport because she was flying into Wellington especially for it, and she's in a wheelchair and 66 years old. Anyway, she'd been a bit of a character to talk to on the phone, and had been exceedingly appreciative of what I had done for her up to that point, well I guess she just charmed the pants off of me really. (Been a bit susceptible to that lately) I think it was when she was telling me about how the job opportunity had come up, and she got on a bit of a roll, and somewhere in the midst of it she graciously dropped in,

"...and I'm in a wheelchair, and I almost fell out of it when they offered me the job..."

So I got the sign off to conduct the interview at the airport, but ofcourse when I ran it past her she wouldn't have a bar of it. She was coming all this way and there was some marine reserve or something she wanted to check out near the airport. So she made it in to the CBD and the thirteenth floor of my building, impeccable timing ofcourse, and I spent almost three quarters of an hour just enchanted by her outlook on life. She has lived 2/3 of a century and has been confined to a chair from a degenerative illness since she was 50, and she'd honestly run rings around most of the people my age. I told her that later too, in an email which I haven't had a response to as yet, which I suppose is kind of kiss-assy. But she's invited me to her place to check out the house she's having built, and given me some bloody good advice on matters such as travel, how to get my pinky back up and running and just generally reinforced to me that outlook is 9/10ths of getting on in life, even when it sucks shit.

Man she was cool!

Are big breasts really all that?

I could see this being the title for a Rickii Lake show. No, that's a lie, because i'm pretty sure the consensus would be YES! And I would not be disinclined to agree, even from a female perspective, (admittedly a far less than well-endowed female perspective!)

But I have to say I feel kind of liberated when I see big busted women running. I mean it must be a physically daunting task to take on gravity like that. There are just some aspects of nature that even the most steel-reinforced of sports bra isn't going to accommodate. And I quite like to run. When it became apparent that the euphemism "petite" was going to stick, I wish the influential women in my life had brought the more immediately relevant issue of running to my attention instead of consoling me with "well, at least they won't be down around your knees when you are older". But then maybe it's not as bad as it looks. The girls on BayWatch coped. Although, perhaps that's why they played those scenes in slow-mo.....

Anyway, my big news is I bought new running shoes, and they are one sleek, sexy, stream-lined pair of runners, baby. My last pair got left behind in Nelson after the pinky finger incident. So the plan is, if the Big One hits, I'm going to run my way outta the city. Set!

What's in a spleen?

According to chinese medicine, quite a bit.

And it's funny how you can wake up thinking today I will do this, and instead fate slaps you on the ass and you get spun in a completely different direction.

Today i was going to walk to Red Rocks, although there are no seals there at the moment. I don't really mind as they smell bad and one threatened to chase me last time I was there. Instead I got a call from the mum of that boy in town for X-air early this morning and he was in hospital with a torn spleen and they were still six hours from Wellington. So I went to hospital instead.

On the way to town I walked with our downstairs neighbour. She was on her way to National Radio for an interview with Kim Hill on frying chicken, because she is from the deep south of America and ostensibly this makes her qualified to speak on the topic. (She reviews books for a living and does a regular slot for them). She looked quite good, which is nice as her and her partner of many years busted up recently after a succession of late night screaming matches that clearly penetrated the floor/ceiling separating our respective flats.

Once in town a nice old Jehovah's witness of Pacific Island descent in his best navy suit and of a ripe old age came up to me and gave me some reading, "Jesus's miracles - fact or fiction?" and invited me to a 'meeting' tomorrow. He reminded me of my Poppa. Just without the bottle of Waitemata permanently affixed to his hand.

I was up at the hospital for quite awhile. The boy (he's my age, most boys my age are boys) was all wired up and prepped for surgery, but he was conscious and quite responsive. He got me to dampen a flannel for him and i asked this Orderlie (that looks wrong) who was either deaf or very rude and fond of aggressive gesturing, and I used the basin he sent me to, but apparently the wrong tap because this jet of water shot horizontally maybe five metres across the room. Lucky that Orderlie didn't see me.

Anyway i'd been there for a few hours, and the boy starts engaging me in deep and meaningfuls, which was fine, I've known him and his family for maybe ten years and his parents are Jake's godparents and were really supportive when mum was sick. But then he asked me aboutthe breakup with Mark, if I had a boyfriend, and if I remembered the first time we met, which i didn't, but apparently i was sitting on his deck, our mum's were chatting, then we went and watched Top Gun. Then he asked if he had been my first date. By date, he is referring to when we were about 14, he won a dinner for two to a fancy winery restaurant in Tauranga and he took me. Cute yes, but date?

Then he says, "Did it hurt?"

I look down at my busted finger and start to recite the tale, and he cuts in, "No, when you fell from Heaven"?

Arrrghhh. I started to feel some English Patient neurosis coming on and resorted to reading the paper aloud to avoid embarrassment. I don't really blush anymore. At least, not unless I like what I am hearing. He's actually quite sweet but really. I also think this is a good indication he's going to be okay.

So apparently, the big earthquake that reclaimed the land past Lambton Quay happened 150 years ago tomorrow. Eerie? I think so.

Blah!

I'm tired of myself already, So no boo hoo love is cruel sometimes cry me a river whoa oh here she comes today. Well, it's there, but I'm denying it. Emotional repression, soooo healthy.

But i don't want to recreate my angsty teenage diary days, so reading back just makes you feel like a big bag of assholes, because you never felt the inclination to write when the whole world didn't hate you.

I bbqued last night. Lauren and I have this great relationship, where she is the woman and I am the man and she stays inside and gets the salads ready and i take my beer out and do the cooking. I realise this isn't a very enlightened view, and probably doesn't accurately reflect my true feelings on gender stereotypes, but again I'm boring myself.

The point is I love bbquing. I was born in Australia and so it is in my blood. It's like i speak the same language as my bbq. I plan to clean it this weekend (while I am grounded) and i will polish it with the same tlc as some people might with their cars. Hmmm, that reminds me, I need to buy some more fat sukka.

You might care to remember the following (although you can never possess the same innate power to bbq as someone born to it):

DON'T clean it after cooking. When the plate is hot next time you cook, splash some beer on it and scrape off the sediment then. Proceed to oil the plate.
DO have all the correct tools and condiments, even if you don't use them, it will look impressive.
DO think about bbquing onions with your meat, it will give you something else to play with rather than terrorising your steak and losing the juices/tenderness.
DON'T overcook your steak. It should still moo a little.
DO take care bbquing onehanded. DON'T be surprised if eggs broken with aforementioned one hand make a goddam mess of the plate.

OK, that's all i'm gonna reveal this time.

In other matters, I went and did some lawyering today. Doesn't seem like there's much to it to be honest. God our justice system is fraught. And I used my retail savvy to return a portable cd player two days after the expiry of it's warranty, and got a spankin' new one. Yeah, I'm pretty sad.

We had another earthquake this morning, I was just down the path from our house and heard it get the shit rattled out of it, but i didn't feel the actual movement. And it was 5.5 and shook my books off my shelf and pictures off the pelmet and broke my jade plant, which used to be zen and now makes me sad. I'm not sure if i understand that concept. WELL IT'S BAD FENG SHUI THEN. Don't worry Ken is fine, and will be played soothing music. I will garner together a survival kit this weekend. Another good i'm grounded activity.

Melancholy

It seems to be the season. Maybe that is a generalisation, especially when i go one step further and say i can see it in the single people around me. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't think of anything more self-destructive (personally) than being hitched right now, but it does make me wonder about the sincerity of the belief that you need to be happy in yourself before you can be happy with someone else. Maybe some people shouldn't be alone. And maybe some people can't be happy in a relationship.

Arggghhh! Another Dr Phil special.

I have done a lot more than contemplate the dysfunctions of both myself and those around me in the last few days, but that is what is bugging me so that is what i will write about.

It seems trite to show any kind of remorse in retrospect. I don't want to be perceived as fragile and dependent on anyone for protection. I was so angry that night when i ran back to the Terrace (after another engaging adventure in The Realms) with my tail between my legs because some big scary man with dreads got out of a car (occupied by two other shadowy figures) parked just below Boyd Wilson and puffed his cigarette at me. It was about one in the morning and i had done the same walk, probably not very sensibly, many times before without an incident worth comment. And i wanted to yell, "Let me past", or plead "are you going to let me past" and instead i stopped, pulled out my cellphone (in an i'm brandishing this dangerous weapon and you better look out kind of fashion), then turned tail and fled. And i probably won't walk through there at night again.

So if something is very much a preconceived idea and we know the outcome is dubious and to then go ahead in denial, I mean we bare the consequences right? And i guess that's supposed to be maturity. But if you know the outcome is going to effect others, people you care about, then that's just fucked up.

Quote: "Favourable Chance, I fancy, is the god of all men who follow their own devices instead of obeying a law they believe in". Five bucks to the first person who can tell me what it's from.

Which is why i am grounded. This weekend. Though i might go to a movie, and a boy/family friend who is in town for some bmx thing, (and is nice enough in an annoyingly goofy kinda way) and i might have to meet up with him. But probably no danger there.

And I have work off tomorrow afternoon. I am volunteering at the law centre (if i have any skills that they can use that is!) and then going to finger gym.

No potential for trouble there....Okay, proceed.

Abouttime...

Some Summer. Although i nearly ruined anexceptionally sunny beautiful weekend by being hungover both mornings (I think this morning was mostly tiredness) I managed to get a healthy dose of VitD. Bierre and i went for the first snorkel of the season at island Bay yesterday and although it was a bit of a struggle getting into and out of the wetsuit (actually it was a bloody circus, bierre wasstanding on my feet and pulling upwards and there were a lot of expletives and laughing, because i still can't use my righty for most things, she's a good buddy) it was so nice there. The water was cold, but sparkling and pristine, and underneath all the plants and seaweed are vivid and moving and alive and there were heaps of fish not particularly worried about me swimming along after them. Bierre had an underwater camera and we stayed in for ages until we were shivering and had to bask in the shallows for awhile. And then as soon as we got out we wanted to go back in again so we went for a swim and it was icy without a wetsuit.

We went swimming today as well down at Oriental Bay, and the water was much warmer, but there were people everywhere and it's not a particularly nice beach,i suppose they've done what they can with imported sand.

Sally, Jimmy, Bierre, JoeM Mark B and a few of his friends (oh and me) had a picnic at the botanical gardens friday night and the Wellington Synforia (not sure if that's right) was playing. I think it was pretty commercial bread and butter stuff (National Bank ad theme etc) it was such a nice atmosphere with the coloured lights in the trees casting eerie shadows and all the families and a bit of bubbly. I found Jimmy again and then him Jonno Joe and i went to Wazzo Clash at bodega which was quite good even though i would have committed pinky finger suicide if i had danced and so got increasingly wobbly relegated to my stool as the night progressed, the booziness fatigued and i just got damn tired.

I think i'ma bit of a mess and full of shit and ashamed of my don't hate me cause i'm happy rant the other day. I had a really good girlie chat at Emma's last night, and i've decided i'm doing shit i should have got outta my system at highschool. Like the ad with those old people throwing shit at the security guard in the mall because they didn't misbehave enough ehen they were young. I just hope i don't get cynical and jaded. I do want to fall in love again. I'm just scared of ending up in that not so nice place again. It's easier notto rely on anyone, or place your happiness in someone else's hands. Isn't it?

This could end up a crappy NZ spin on Sex in the City. Sorry. But it would be me and all my de factoed friends. Hmmmm. Hee hee.

Why is happy bad?

So I've been feeling quite good since I got the cast off, I guess after feeling so grumpy for awhile my endorphins are pumping, and i'm excited about all the things i'll be able to do again, although i'm not quite physically there yet. And Bierre went to Church and there was a little girl there about 3 years old, and she was an actual Lil Brudder, meningitis is my guess, (she had one leg) and she forgot her name and bellowed out in the middle of communion, "Mum what's my name? I've forgotten my name!", but that's beside the point. My point is her thing is permanent, mine was for a very short time in comparison. And why is everyone else so miserable? They have two legs most of the time. And why is my optimism and laughter perceived as "simpleness" (I use the word "simpleness" intentionally as I think the verb "simplicity" has a more positive connotation than was intended by the word "simple"), or as unusual in the human disposition.
Have we really become so miserable?
And without overrating what i've been through or turning this into an Oprah special is it true, and i am reminded of the book The Prophet by Gibran that says something about knowing true suffering or sadness to be truly happy. I could have that misconstrued I guess.
Anyway i'm going to play dnd, this isn't what i intended to write about at all.

End to the Claw

Exactly a month after i broke it, it is off. It's still quite bruised and I have to go for hand physio for goodness sake although that might be a good thing considering how weak my wrist is and how slow my fingers are to get moving. It's still "buddy taped" but i'm definitely snorkeling asap! Maybe I'll copy and paste jimmy's awesome recollection of my bravery sometime. Sorry but i am still one handed at this point (and lazy)

And Emma and Welf are engaged! Yikes. Very romantic proposal in Samoa. Sigh. Cynic or romantic? Undecided but i like other people having weddings.

And two more girls are leaving at work. I suspect it is going to precipitate a huge exodus from within Registration. Hope i'm part of it...

That is all.

Oh no wait. And now Mark that bugger of a boy just opened his trap and the flatties are on to me. Will definitely have to write lotsof rude things about him....

I'm not tough at all....

Today was the end of my short career as a recluse. I Tried desperately to maintain it by being unsociable and watching another dvd and remaining in my pjs until four again (well hey, i'm convalescing). Anyway I watched The Pianist. I'm ashamed of my egocentricity but it just made me feel shit about myself. I've watched plenty of stuff on the Holocaust, both documentaries and movies, but i just never get desensitised to it. And apart from all the senseless killing and the recurring themes in all the films, the degradation, the deportations, the few (far too few) rescuers, there was one particular scene that really upset me just because of its poignant simplicity. When the German officer finds him at the end,and gets him to play, and he plays like the devil's got hold of him, and he probably thinks its the last time he will play, and then at the end of it the Officer asks where he's been hiding, and the Pianist (sorry i don't know his name) goes to show him and he picks up that can of horrible looking stuff that he was working on opening and tucks it protectively under his arm before he limps off. And i just think about how hungry he must have been. That the can represented another god forsaken day of being hunted and completely alone. And how sorry i felt for myself when i got my wisdoms out or when i broke my freakin finger... I don't know. Anyway I'm feeling a bit restless, like the 40 hr famine and $20 by dialling 0900 for the tsunami victims doesn't really cut it. So what am i gonna do?

solitude - blight or bliss?

hmmmm, trying to be a bit clever there aren't i? I think i am really going to get into this...and i may have even sorted myself out a PC. Just have to make sure Kelly isn't ripping me off, she drives a hard bargain that girl.

Anyway the title. God i hate this one-handedness. Curses. After almost a whole week of practically having the flat to myself, while two were up north and the third was hosting a conference and out till all hours, i finally discovered the freedom it entailed today. Earlier in the week I was totally over myself and my incapacitation, and that was just the few hours after work when i had to amuse myself. I had just become so accustomed to never being alone i guess, especially after being in the terrace flat. But the weather has been so awful today (or delightful if you don't have to go out in it) with thunder and torrential rain that i stayed in my pjs until about 4 o'clock watching dvds. Oh at one point I threw some clothes over the top to go and get milk for tea. There was a car at the bottom of our steps swimming in a lake and a council man fishing around in the drain nearby to try and unplug it i guess. Other than talking to Kelly and pissing her off and a quick chat to Sarah m about new years resolutions and needing to create some scandals i didn't have any other human contact than the dairy boy and text messages. And it was so nice...but the conference finishes today and the other two are back in Wellie tonight.

And i am going to play dnd now, and we have a new PC!

But i plan to explore this being alone thing a bit more. I'm a grown woman (supposedly) for crying out loud.

that's all.

my first time

Technology isn't my thing, i just had to be spoon fed through that set up process (Thanks James) but one of my New Year's resolutions is to write more, and to create more scandals to write about... Bierre reckons i've just about got my book together. I reckon i've only just got started.

So one handed, here i am! (that's temporary for you people attracted to freaks)