Hubris.co.nz

In the interests of full self-disclosure, I will tell you that it’s late. I’ll tell you that it’s 12.45am if you would like me to be precise, and I will say happily that I have been drinking since 5.30ish. So what’s been going on? And who is John G?

Haha, I totally forgot what I was going to say, cos I was getting all angry at random other sites, and cos I was watching Momento as I’m sure you already gathered from the title, and the I was posting on Well Urban and then I was talking to Calum, and then I was wishing that you all were Tom,(but like, the auldskool one, not Mr. Beard) just because of the Momento jokes that we used to have, and also because while I do still have friends now, I don’t have many injokes with them, and mostly I just have silly MSN animated gif jokes with workmates, and that makes me feel like a dick. Ha ha, remmeber when I had a life and I didn’t work all the time? Really? Cos i’m not sure I do. And to be honest, I don’t know how much I rally have to offer you that’s new and interesting. I mean, I could tell you that I am wirting this journal entry with my eyes shut and I am looking in the distance, but I don’t think tat me being all “oohn other people” is the way to makie me be all cool and stuff. Also, informercials are fucking me off. And, I’m drunk. And, Plan A is officially (OFFICIALLY!!!) dead in the water, so it can snack on my cockhole. K rad, fun

xojo

For Kate (Kate, do you have another name? There’s already too many damn Kates!) and Noizy and Llew, and for me, since this is all rattling around in my head right about now.

Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy and Pride. Which (if any) have you broken? Give examples.

Lust:
The example that first springs to mind when I hear this word could probably very well also fall under ‘wrath’, given the history involved, and how in that stall in the men’s room in a skanky goth bar I used to go out with the guy who was there with me, and also how I’d also fucked his wife who was banging on the door, so maybe I should wind the tape back to about four years before that, when I’d only pashed two boys, and I went to the movies for the first time with the gentleman in question. Just sitting next to him, our arms touching was so unbelieveably arousing that when I went to the bathroom and wiped, I was so wet that my hand slipped and I nearly punched the back of the toilet bowl. That was very unexpected for the girl that I was then.

I think it can sometimes also be hard to seperate lust from all the other things going on in my life, like needing other people’s approval to feel good about myself, or drinking too much, or needing to feel alive to combat antidepressants, or confusing love with sex, or having an overly developed sense of irony, or whatever. I suppose another example that would be appropriate here would be the first time that I hooked up with my stupid flatmate Ben III, and the following weeks. He wasn’t my type of guy – I mean, when I say he was stupid, he was stupid, but one night, he just smelt really really manly (read: sweaty) and the pheremonal connection was like “badoinga!”

On a slightly less disturbing note (I think), the character of Evan on The Secret Life of Us is so exactly my type that it hurts to watch the show cos I want to jump his bones so much.

Right now my head is full of pretty much nothing but lust. I haven’t had sex in a very very long time. Y’all didn’t think that I got OOS from working at a soul-destroying job with a really really bad computer set-up did you? Oh wait…

Gluttony:
This one is probably most apparent to everyone as something I have a problem with. The question then becomes “why is it a problem?” Quite frankly, I can’t imagine anything worse than being the type of person who would become obsessed with denying themselves the pleasures of food. To not know the joy of wine and cheese (CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEESE!), or fillet steak, or fresh baked bread with butter, or even dhal with fresh coriander on top or avocado on soy & linseed bread is just freaky. I use the last two as examples of how food can be goooood and good for you at the same time, but I suppose gluttony comes mostly in the form of ‘bad’ food. The thing is though, if you’re going to eat the ‘bad’ food anyway, then why hate yourself for it? Why not enjoy it? I would like to stop mentally beating myself up for it. I have accepted the fact that I am never going to be thin – I was born huge, for starters – so I would like to enjoy my life. At the same time, partly because I so often don’t enjoy my life, I’m more than a little nihilistic – like, if I’m going to get hit by another bout of crippling depression and decide that this time I can’t get through it, then why should I have skipped the cake? And please don’t start in on the whole “but exercise and healthy food can make you happier” crap, because I know that. That’s why I went vegan, and that was great for a while, although half of my enjoyment of that was a big “Fuck you, dairy and meat! I don’t need you anyways!” defiance that wore off. There’s so much cognitive dissonance going on in my head at all times that I could easily present a seminar on it in relation to the LTSA ads. Oh wait, I did that already…

And of course, gluttony doesn’t just apply to food, cos there’s drinking too. I like to drink. I will probably drink more than you will if we go out together. I like the taste of the things that I drink. I like the social aspect of it. I also like the feeling of confidence it gives me, which is not even about the wine anymore, it’s about me. If one bottle is good, two bottles is better. And while I have a few friends who don’t drink, and some friends who aren’t very in to food, I can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable around them if I was eating or drinking, because while I get it in my head, at heart I don’t understand why they’re not indulging in the pleasures.

Sloth:
Have you seen my couches? It took me a long time to find ones as big and comfortable as they are. I am happiest when I am lying down fully stretched out. I hope that when I am lying down on my couch I am in my pyjamas, and that it’s cold so I can have a duvet to snuggle under. I have no idea how people find enjoyment in tramping, or running. A leisurely walk in nice weather with an iPod and comfortable clothing might be okay, but I have bung-ass knees due to the gluttony section, and flat feet so long periods of walking are no fun. I like dancing, if the music and environment is right, but mostly if I go out I want comfy couches to sit on. Part of my perfect week off plan would involve a day spent watching many episodes of a favourite show on DVD. I <3 the Sloth. I feel no cognitive dissonance about it at all.

Wrath:
I’m a pretty angry person. I’d like not to be, but I’m really really not good at letting things go. Now, I’ve just been to look up the word, to try and figure out if being full of wrath makes you actually do things, because my only reference point here is 7ven, and I haven’t killed Kevin Spacey any time recently. Mostly my wrath consists of me not getting over things, and steaming about them for years and years. I have strict moral codes of things like the Two Year Rule, and if people break them, I get really really angry. I think more people should just suck it up and be miserable instead of hurting people. I am very very angry about people who hurt me and get to have their happy endings, because where the fuck is the justice in that?

Envy:
I am extremely guilty of envy. I envy people with pretty shiny possessions like houses, and DVD hard drives, and then I envy people without few possessions, who can pack up their lives in a matter of minutes. Mostly when I envy people I try to belittle them in some way – the phrase “skinny bitch” comes out of my mouth an awful lot, or when I see couples making out in public I’ll be like “get a room” when I am really thinking “I wish that was me”. I am envious of anyone who gets to hear someone tell them that they love them. I am envious of my friends who are having successful careers in areas that I want to work in. I am envious of people whose webpages get more hits than mine when they’re not even fucking real, Natalie. I am envious of people that I look down on for appearing to be happy with who they are. I am envious of people who seem to have taken the blue pill if we were going to go all Matrix comparison-y – is the blue pill the ignorance one? Well that’s the one I want. In a way, and this is disgusting to admit, I am envious of people with real identifiable trauma in their lives, and that’s something I spent a long time on when I was in counselling. I would like to be able to say “the reason that I am like this is because ___ happened”, and have it be all nice and easy like that. And if you think that I actually think that other people have lives that are all nice and easy, then you’re a dumbass. I’m well aware that the grass is always greener on the other side. It’s just that it’s often very hard to see what people would be envy about me.

Pride:
Hello, have you looked up the definition of ‘Hubris’ lately? This links in to the wondering what people would envy me for. Being well-educated, raised upper-middle class and given the opportunity to travel the world before I was ten and having parents I can rely on to back me up? Sure, that’s lucky, but I don’t know if it’s something that I can take pride in, because it’s not something that I’ve achieved – unless we go “yay little sperm, nice work on hitting that egg”. I would like to take pride in overcoming depression, having friends, being a good writer, but it just seems like those are all things that come naturally, or are things that I have no alternative but to achieve, so that seems dumb. But yes, I am condescending. I am snobby. I can cook well, and sometimes am capable of carrying out a good stimulating conversation. I used to take pride in giving really great head, but since the throwing up on someone’s cock whoopsie, my confidence in that area has been shattered. I would like to think that Hubris the site is really interesting, and I’m proud of that, but it’s not like I’ve got a book deal or anything. So meh. Perhaps pride is my least sinny of the sins. Rock on.

I’m not going to tag anyone – when you presume that people want to do things, you make a press out of you and me! – but please feel free to riff off your own if you like.

EDIT: whoops, I forgot
Greed:
I think this is pretty much covered by all the other ones, isn’t it? I’ll just go with the Hole quote to sum this one up, cos I’ve already wasted too much time: “I want to be the girl with the most cake”. Chur. But actually no, let me change that to say that I’m well happy to pay as much tax as I do, because I want to live in a world where the people who aren’t as well off as I am can still have things like oh you know, housing and healthcare and education…

Oma’s sick again. She’s in hospital now with gall stones, but on Saturday she was still at home, so on Saturday morning Anji and I set out to visit her. However, we had to go and pick up Karen from a house that was not her own first, which was annoying but was also an endless source of amusement – at least to me and Anji, because Karen was getting more than a little sick of our jokes. I was extremely overtired, and more than a little hungover, so we did the drive-through thing, so then I was hyped up on caffiene. Ethel’s getting on a bit in years so we took her up to Ngaio to swap her for Mum’s car, which has the additional bonus of a CD player. We played Led Zepplin and I waved my arms around a lot like I was Bonzo. Eventually someone suggested to me that I only talk in rhyming couplets, and so I did (*). For like half an hour until we got to Oma’s, and then for a while then when I wasn’t talking directly to her (language and hearing miscommunications would have just made that way too hard). I suggested to my aunt that she might like to take the opportunity of us being there to go out and have some time to herself, which she did – which meant we had to stay for ages. Anji was great, talking up a storm. I was less so. When Aunt Diz got back though, she said that Oma had totally perked up and that we’d worked like a tonic on her. A tonic with gin, perhaps? It had been quite amusing to hear Oma telling us that Diz had been bullying her (much like it’s hilarious when Mum complains about Oma complaining about Mum not returning her phonecalls). Oma was also very very big with telling us old stories, which was great. I could have done without the whole “this is how much you guys are getting in my will when I die” speech though.

On the way back from Paraparaumu we made a short but scary stop in Coastlands for something to eat, and we all pretended to be Britney Spears with frappe type drinks from Muffin Break. I dazzled Anji and Karen with my amazing grasp of geography, managing to figure out a much quicker way out of the mall through the cinema. We went back up to Ngaio and Anji picked up Ethel while I absconded with the car and took Karen home. Then it was nap time, finally.

Later, Miss Lisa Fur picked me up for our hott bear-cub planning date, otherwise known as seeing The Phoenix Foundation with SJD at the Opera House. While we were waiting the long time before the show started, we played the “who knows more people here?” game. Because of the number of musicians present, we made it that you’d had to have at least talked to the person in the flesh for them to count. I only managed four – Mr and Mrs Noizy, Sam Scott and Nato. Umm, not to name drop or anything. But while I AM namedropping, I’ll say that we were sitting by the door to backstage, and sometime during the Phoenix Foundation, someone that I think was SJD came and collapsed in the seat next to me, talked to someone behind me for a while and then sat there texting away for a couple of songs before leaving again. Not cool. The light was really distracting. That said, the Phoenix Foundation was unbelievably excellent. I think I am now a huge fan of sit-down gigs, and large scale production values, and comedy lead teams and cute home movies with adorable kids and and and oh yeah so good. Yes. Fantastic. I think it’s one of my top three gigs’o the year, along with Nick Cave and the Straitjacket Fits. Ohhhhh yeah.

On Sunday, since my parents were at Toast Martinborough and the car was still at our house, I drove all the way around the Miramar peninsula, starting at the old Navy base or whatever it is, and then all the way up to Owhiro Bay and back through Brooklyn. It was really nice to be playing party mix CDs really loud and singing along, and it was sunny despite the wind, and just really great time to myself. Then I grocery-shopped, which wasn’t nearly so interesting, but had to be done. And that was the weekend, with a little laundry thrown in there as well. I am a party animal. At least I got home late on Friday night *), because I am a spaz. Today I am really tired, just for a change, although going to the gym has perked up my mood (who’da thunk it?), and tonight I am going to Serenity again with Lisa, and my mother who needs a healthy chunk of escapism right about now, I reckon.

I’ve been consuming media like crazy lately, and maybe I haven’t told you about it, so here goes:

All of todayk, I have been about to collapse over and fall asleep. I didn’t sleep at all last night. Stupid pre-period bright light, lower back pain, stupid brain going tick tick tick. Stupid girl drinking coke at 7pm. Stupid oversensitive-to-caffiene existingness. YEAH! SO this afternoon, I was very very mcuh like “hi, I know we have our weekly production meeting right now, but do you mind if I fall asleep right here and now?”

As it happened, we were actually bidding farewell to a colleague, and they talked in her speech about the air of calm she gave, and since she was one of my project managers, I can totally agree that yes, she was calm-making. And now she’s gone. But at least we had butt-loads of Pandoro goodies to ease the tradition. And we all know that pandoro muffins are so hot right now. Oh I’m sorry, that’s err “da bomb”. I forgot it was 1996. Also, haha Joel, seriously, you’re all crazy and shit – you are planning on the face punch right? Remind me to put those links in when my ISP actually catches up to reality. Did I say my ISP? Oh you all know I’m using my mother’s account. (Edit: see how I blamed my inability to link properly on my ISP, rather than the many glasses of Church Road Sav Blanc? Nice. That’s what my Grad Dip PR Com was for. But I think I’ve put in the right links now…)

It’s funny, cos for five minutes or so, I was like “huh, those ex-workmates of mine that I’m making fun of – what if they make fun of me?” but then I was like “well, what would they say that I wouldn’t agree with?” and then I laughed some more. But on a more serious note, the directors put on some drinks tonight (*) and we were at the Courtenay Arms, which is where VUWSA had its Xmas party last year when I was like “I’m going to be leaving after Orientation, cos I am 10k short of what I should be making”, and now I am 12k up, and working happily, and not having to deal with RANK ARROGANT AMATUERS all the time (and if I spelled that wrong, it was Anji’s fault, cos she spelt it for me,a nd she has like, a degree in literature) and also just, I like almost all my workmates. Where the fuck was I? I can’t remember.

Oh wait, foozeball. I have searched the archives right now, and am curfrenly laughing my guts out about feta jokes that Bo and I made together. Also, WHERE THE FUCK has peppercorn feta gone? I don’t think it exists anymore. And now I spent like half an hour looking for an obscure reference to our first year Peach Pit environment (yes, htat’s Pizza Pizza I’m talking about) or how there happebned to be some boys who had happened to come across half a Nikki Watson poster from Sandringham Road that haapppened to be in our backyard and I was lying on her boobs in the photograph, and wait, what was my point? I totally forget. But I will say hey, remember that time that I had two girl friends,and then there were these three guys that we all hung out with? And remember how the three of us had it all worked out? Yes.

ALSO! FUCK OFF SHORTLAND STREET! Stop having our motherfucking glasses onscreen! It’s bad enough that our three new water glasses are the stripey ones are the same as the ones in the cafe. Tonight Anji pointed out that our gingerbeer cocktail glasses have showed up in Coltrain. FUCKING SUCK IT, YOU QUEERS! (That’s the OC, k? xojo) Because I am a potter’s daughter. I care very much about the vessel things are served to me in, and I feel like you just fucked my daughter’s navel cavity. Hott! But also, unless it’s you making the mule, back the fuck off!

Ohh, I haven’t made a public update for a while now, so I guess I really should do that (and if you’re the couple of people who are on level 1 who haven’t commented or introduced yourself to me and therefore haven’t got the upgrade, maybe that’s something for you to think about…).

So Jo, what’s been happening? Well Jo, that’s a good question. Boy you’re hot right now (as opposed to being SHRN), you could do with a shower, but that’d be the third one of the day, and that would just be silly. So sweaty and smelly it will be instead. Tonight I worked late, sort of, being a model for some kind of training programme that our company is doing. On Tuesday I got to do voicework for it. Exciting times. Other than work, and the gym (haha, I know! Crazy!), annnnnnnnnnnnnd umm that’s it. Woo! But there are social activities scheduled, honest, like Atomic on Saturday, and hanging with Brad before he moves to Whakatane for the summer (he sent me a text the other day that said “As an exercise for a class we had to create a two minute item that would be performed at our funeral. I did a choreographed dance in a bear suit. Brilliant.” Brilliant!), and SERENITY!!!!!! on Tuesday, and going to the Phoenix Foundation with Miss Lisa Rat Pony, and and umm oh, trying to think of a spunky costume based on the Loveboat theme of our Xmas party (I’m thinking maybe an entertainer? That way I can still look glam and hott and yet still be a team player. Wahoo. Work’s been full of all kinds of dodgy conversations lately (“which workmate would you sleep with?” – my response was “who gets paid the most?” but I was told that wasn’t a valid answer), so that keeps me very amused. As do of course my various actual work projects, naturally.

Okay, let’s try to talk about things that aren’t work-related, so that I don’t seem like such a sellout. Ummmmmmmmmmm.

Umm…

Ummm…….

There’s angst. There’s always angst. This is just the stupid giggly crush type thing, that comes and goes, and my little mousewheel of pessimism and optimism spins around and around. Today I think I am being pessimistic, but given the ache in my gut and lower back, and how I wanted to start crying when ‘I could have lied’ spun up on my iPod, I know that’s just because I am due for a bleed, so I’m not concerned. Mostly I’m just wondering when I’m going to get some clean clothes and do my laundry and that crap. Wahoo! Exciting! At least I had Brad’s text message in here to make it interesting. Please insert your helpful Loveboat tips here, keeping in mind what I look like (so I’m not going to be a bikini-wearing sunbather). Now I am going to go and redo my links page. Wahoo.

Shall we call this a level 2 entry? should I try to censor myself? oh man, I am so conflicted. Mostly I am SO ANNOYED that I left my phone at my old building, but since this is in theory Level 2, I can say that if you want to get ahold of me before Monday (umm…… Lisa?) you can call me on ummmmmmmmmmm 386 4631? But I don’t answer the phone and also I’m going to my parents’ tomorrow night for dinner. While I mention them, can I also add how disturbed I am that they changed their phone number? Yeah, they switched over to Telstra for broadband, so now hte first digits of their number are 970. It’s wrong. It’s wronger than when all of Welly had a 4 put in front of it. You know that the reason (well, one of) that I ahven’t switched to a telecom mobile is cos I’ve had my 021 since it said “bell south” on the phone. I am a traditionalist.

It appears that Sebastian is a tradiionalist too, and has once more run away over Guy Fawkes. This makes it three years in a row, and I know that if he disappears for eight days like he did the first time, I won’t survive. But for now, I will sustain myself on giggles that Miss Rat Pony and I can share over a subject called “A.” and it’s really got out of hand, and honestly, I am sick and diseased and I think I decided tonight that there was no point and that I needed to stop.

Anyways. Tonight I went up to my old office (same company still, but we have two buildings – have I explained that enough?) to watch fireworks above the harbour go bang. I was actually incredibly impressed. After that one time in Japan, when my parents made me (against my wishes) ride a stupidly crowded subway for an hour and a half and then walk for half an hour and then sit on a crowded tapualin for half an hour watching some big display, I have not been the biggest advocate of fireworks, except for sparklers, the occasional bang at Halloween and and that one time that Si, Morphone Matt and I were letting off fireworks that night we stayed up all night drinking barcardi and theyclimbed the tree that’s been cut down now.

I am watching Starsailor on TV right now. I deliberately smoked half a cigarette last night. I wonder if thses things are leated, like that I am trying to sabotage my life, like maybe I am “oh, those things that y7ou want, they’re not going to happen, so why don’t you just crash your ferrari, and kill Razzle, and go to jail?” I have also been rereading The Dirt again, in case you didn’t get that reference. I’d give it all up to have Sebby back here cuddled up to my thighs. And Starsailor says “my wandering soul found solace at last” and wow, I don’t even know what solace is anymore, if I did ever. And I am going to enter Cosmo’s erotica writing competition, and you know I will be good at that, and while we are talking erotica, let me go again “OMG SO SMITTEN” but I decided tonight that I am wrong. Also, while we are talking aobut tonight, can we please get a FUCK YEAH for Mt. Vic being on fire?

Also, since we stayed late, and played silly games at work,I’d like you to say which of these three statements is wrong, since no one else got it: A) I refer to my breasts as Mary-kate and Ashley because of their size discrepency B) I lost my virginity when I was 13 C) I have a fondness for age discrepencies with thte people I sleep with?

Also for right now, I’m praying that someone will heed the invisible signals that were probvably totally inaudible as well and come over and we’ll sort this out> I bet that won’t happen though. Still, a girl has two fingers.