Hubris.co.nz

Last week was totally exhausting. Actually, the week before that was exhausting as well. But I can say quite definitely that it also contained one of my top career highlights so far, so that’s pretty awesome, right? Should we mix it up and go topically, or go chronologically like usual-ish? I guess if we go chronologically, I will remember more about my time in Sydney, so let’s start there, shall we? And if you don’t like that, then perhaps you could leave me a comment to register your discontent. Rad.

Sydney and FullCodePress

So, as you will no doubt recall, I tried out for Full Code Press, and didn’t make the team, so the lovely Tash suggested that I come along anyway as volunteer. It meant a flight at some ridiculous time in the morning, but also my first Koru Club experience in 15 years or so. I love Air NZ’s newish inscreen entertainment screens, especially since a flight to Sydney involves stupidly long amounts of time on the tarmac. I got to meet all the Code Blacks people that I hadn’t already met, and it made me chuckle how we all had webstock satchels.

My hotel wouldn’t let me check in early, so I went and had a walk around Darling Harbour, having breakfast, reading the (tabloidy) paper, drinking average coffee and enjoying it being t shirt weather. I went back up to the hotel and they still didn’t have a room ready, so I sat sulking in the lobby for a bit before I rode the monorail and went and got a very nice pedicure inside the mall. And then, finally, I could check in. This was my room:

The bedroom looked out into the super huge giant atrium, and the living room had these awesome nighttime views:

I like views of the city at night. I also like getting to finally have naps, and wake up and have Kate B be there, and I like going swimming with her, and then drinking wine with her and looking through her portfolio. I like that her web work is pretty much the opposite of mine, it being all advertising, all flash, whereas I am all advocating for accessibility, in theory if not quite so much in practice.

Anyways, so Kate and I sorted out our hair and jumped in a taxi to go and meet up with her friend Rob and The Mayor of Newtown, at a pub called Cooper’s that was not dissimilar to the Southern Cross with its outdoor terrace. There we compared handwriting, broke glasses and spent a very long time trying to decide where to have dinner. The Mayor’s initial suggestion of a place across the seat was vetoed by Kate on account of the bad lighting, and my criteria was that it needed to have wine. Eventually we set off for a different Vietnamese place, but it was closed, so we went to find a different one. King Street is almost exactly like K’Road, in terms of architecture and people and shops and eateries. We found a Vietnamese restaurant that may have been called Viet Maison, which had a Tiki-Bar although I didn’t see that initially, and OH MY GOD, we ate the most fantastic food – soft shell crab with garlic butter, salt & pepper eggplant, crispy pork hot pot, duck pancakes, lemongrass tofu, coconut rice, oh my god oh my god oh my god. It was so fresh and amazing. I want to eat there every day. Can’t we swap half Wellington’s Malaysian restaurants for some more Vietnamese places? Please? Kate broke another glass, and so we went to another bar called Zanzibar. The Mayor bumped into a friend of his who was in a band and owned his own tiki shack. I’d had enough wine that I was struggling to not imply that the friend was in INXS. It was 1am before I knew it. It was very much fun.

The next day was FULLCODEPRESS so I found my way down to the Conference Centre, and then into the Exhibition Centre, which is the largest building I have ever seen. It’s like, a kilometre long, at least. The FCP stuff was taking place in the middle of all the shiny technology exhibits, so it looked like this:

I hung around for a bit while they were just getting started, and was given access to the official FCP blog, and then I went and met my cousin Jacinta for lunch. She took me to a really lovely Thai place past Chinatown, and I shamed myself by being unable to finish my chili and basil tofu because it was too hot. Laaaaamer.

Another swim and a nap later, I was ready for the FCP lock-in. My role was to blog and twitter about it using the #fcp09, to talk to the nice judges, and to try and sniff out mysterious smells in the media room. It was lots of fun. I also enjoyed making Clint from Rainbow Youth dance for me. Okay, so I wasn’t really helping anyone very much at all, except in my capacity as entertainer. I still felt good about being involved. But not so good that when 2am rolled around and people started sleeping that I didn’t feel stupid for being there when I had a nice hotel across and up the road waiting for me, so I found a security guard to let me out and had a heart-pounding but brightly lit walk back.

I had wanted to get back to FCP by 11am in time for the finish, but that zopiclone, she is a hard task mistress, and it was not to be. Instead I went and ate barramundi in the sunshine. That was lovely – trying to find the FCP annoucements was not so much fun. In fact, I felt somewhat like I was in The Twelve Tasks of Asterix when he needs to get a piece of paper signed. Not a single “information” desk in all of the kilometres of building actually had the information. In fact, a couple of them gave me unformation, and sent me miles off in the wrong direction. Luckily I eventually found some of the judges, but not before I had discovered a conference called “What causes happiness?” (apparently, cupcakes for afternoon tea causes happiness) which would be a nice counterpoint to the conference I’d see the next day at the Powerhouse Museum called “Depression in older people”. Anyways. I got there just in time to hear the judging, which was really really interesting to find out what makes a site good, according to the experts. And The CodeBlacks won! Hurray us! And hurray charity, as I wrote about in my work blog. Etc. So really what I should write about now was the cat-herding required to get everyone to the Pump House for drinks, and then off to the Spanish area for dinner, but everywhere was full so we ended up in a really old Greek restaurant where the lamb was tasty but I suspect that the vegetables had been cooking probably since it opened in the olden days. People appeared to be flagging so I taxied back to my hotel, but they actually stayed up drinking until 2am. Good for them!

The next day was a nice sleep in, a leisurely checkout, then freshly squeezed juice to treat my swineflu/airconditioning flu, and i set off to the Powerhouse Museum. More walking. I was determined to get there because I’ve always been impressed with Seb Chan’s work, and I really enjoyed it, although the ghost figures it used were spooky, and there were a lot of school children loitering about. Who are they to enjoy the culture? Pah! I was hungry and their cafe was uninspiring so I walked down to the madness that is Paddy’s Market, purchased a light shade and two Chinese cigarette posters (in case we ever start an opium den in the tiki shack), and kept looking because I didn’t feel like foodcourt Asian. In fact, I walked all the way back to Darling Harbour and made my way down all the cafes, looking for a plate of fish’n chips that would be under $30. In the end, I came to a place with an adequate bbq, and beers that I guzzled down, but because I had so much time left and I didn’t want to walk anymore, i plonked my fat ass down at the Lindt Chocolate Cafe to eat a degustation plate by myself. Mmmmm. I left with a sea of brown floating around in my eyes, it was so intense. Back to my hotel to collect my bags and be collected by the shuttle driver, and into Sydney Airport. I made my way directly to the MAC counter as soon as I spotted it, where with the lady’s help I purchased a Russian Red red lipstick, but she lacked a matching liner and advised me to look at other brands. I also bought a compact of colours from their special collection that no doubt I did not need but I dearly wanted. I pulled up a seat at the bar, and strangely enough, the other NZers found me there. I watched In Bruges on the plane, and thoroughly enjoyed it, along with the pie I got. I also thoroughly enjoyed getting home to my own bed.

Cupcakes and Mini Webstock

Now I’m not sure if you remember, but after Webstock earlier this year, I made cupcakes for Tash and Ben and Mike and Deb to say thank you so much for their hard work. Well, it turned out that they liked them so much that they hired me to make 100 cupcakes for their third birthday party. Here’s a photo of how some of that looked:

Because I am slightly insane, i decided to make six flavours – vanilla w chocolate frosting, mocha, lemon & cream cheese, mixed berry & white chocolate, gluten-free chocolate and almond, and vegan pina colada. I ended up pretty much drowning in batter and my stomach hurts just thinking about the leftover icing in the fridge!

The Webstock Mini night made it all worthwhile though. It was a lovely chance to get really dressed up, hang out with my besties, try to corrupt Alan, and heckle people drunkenly via Twitter. Even if i did end up drink at the Malt House – at least they had signs up saying they were renovating the male bathrooms and were hopefully removing their incredibly misogynistic urinals.

#GOVIS09 and twicking up

That was the Tuesday. On the Wednesday I was at work until after 11pm, duvet and all, struggling to sumarise 18 months of work into one 34 minute slide presentation. According to the Twitter feedback, I did quite well (scroll down) – or here or ,here – the problems of multiple identities! Once I managed to get some proper cafenet access and had a chance to read all that, well, I was just completely blown away and may have had a little cry. I definitely had a hugely swollen head and cut’n paste the praise into an email I sent to my whole family. It was just so amazingly nice to be acknowledged for the work I do – even though, or especially because there’s like 40 days left of me working there. It’s a tiny bit of a “oh, are you sure you’re doing the right thing, SSC?” and also a “I know that I am smart and talented and can be employable”. There were drinks, and I met a stalker who brought me wine then there was dinner at Roxy. It was tasty and entertaining, even if I had to talk to Australians for ages. Oh god the pain of it all!

The next day at the conference, I felt much much more secure and safe and smug, and more people wanted to talk to me. I even started calling myself a ‘social media expert’ but you must believe that I was saying it as if I was saying “I’m Rick James, Bitch!” Nat’s closing speech was of course my favourite of them all since I missed Matt’s but his was very highly regarded too. It was fun. I learnt things.

And then there were drinks. And more drinks. And a lot of fish on sticks, and hot roast beef sandwiches, and homemade pistachio ice cream, and more drinks, And then I ended up going to Hummingbird for the Tweet Up, and then I went to China Delight for dinner with the Toms and some new friends, and then we went to Hummingbird for a drink or two more. Alisa left my old work to manage the bar there so it was nice to catch up with her.

My weekend and the future

There has been a lot of sleeping and trying to stay warm. There has been feasts at Siem Reap. There’s been a lot of twitter time. There’s been a lot of duveting. That’s really about it. Tomorrow I go for an eye example, since glasses are still subsidised at work. Then on Tuesday I’m going to EAP to plan for the future. After that, well, who knows? I could use some quiet times but I’m not seeing a whole lot of that happening any time soon. I am more confident about being hireable based on GOVIS though. Career highlights are nice.

Sleeping and so forth

It is odd to have bedded two people in such a short space of time, (although my record is still 3 in two weeks in 2003) because of the contrast between the old and the new. It’s also redonkulous that I’ve bitched and moaned about wanting to be able to actually have sleepovers, but when it comes down to it, I had to leave a warm bed and go out into the cold cold night because of how I am physically incapable of sleeping without taking zopiclone. Doing a line-by-line comparison would be amusing for me but also totally totally inappropriate, so I will just leave the public exposure of private things to the contrast between my necklaces clacking together as my head moved back and forth, and the moment of having a lover gently unclasp my necklace, which seems to be even more of an intimate act.

These are highlights from my journal that I kept in my red book in Australia. Obviously, it’s not everything. I was doing a whole bunch of thinking, and no one needs to read all of that. But these are the entertaining highlight parts.

Saturday 24th June, 2000 – On The Train from Melbourne to Sydney

I’m sick, kinda hungover. I threw up a few bitter mouthfuls this morning, which was nothing compared to last night. So I’m sipping water now and thinking I will drink less in the future.

I’m really happy with my hair, it looks choice. So yay for that. Boo for the fact that I can’ curl up and sleep and look out the window, but hey, these things happen. At least there’s a needle disposal unit in the bathroom! Handy huh?

Oh, oh, the coolest most exciting thing that has happened so far is that I found notes in the magazine in the seat pocket! Here, let me copy them out for you. They made me smile so much!

“Dear Gracey,
Hello!
umm….
do you love Sean? I hate him
Luv Capa”

“Dear Casey
um… abobt your qestun I Dident spell it rite but this is a big secret ok
I Do sotove love him”

How cute! Go Gracey & Sean! What’s the bet he’ll end up leaving her for Casey though! Ooh nasty bitter Joanna. Yes, damn right I am. But that aside, I was so stoked to find those notes. I always loved messages meant for others in text books. I remember Ammy and I (or was it Rosalie) wrote notes we left for others in our classics books for the next classes. It’s kind of like a cross between graffiti and a message in a bottle. Soon maybe, I’m going to write a note explaining who I am, and pt my address on it, and leave it in the magazine. Hopefully someone will find it, and be as excited as me and maybe even try to contact me. Tanya and Anji used to write to some guy in Palmerston North after they found a message in a bottle from him.

Monday 26th, June 2000

Kini has my photo by her bed. I can’t even start to describe how special this makes me feel. It’s just so lovely to know that someone cares about me like that. I can look around her room and in one corner are the tulip lights I gave her, and on her shelf is the Winnie the Pooh picture, and that’s just cool. She really cares about me. And that’s lovely. I am going to start showing my friends more how much I care about them, I think. I mean, for the past six months I have just focused all my attentions on one person, and that’s just wrong. From now on, I will think about more people!

I am also going to listen to more * (name deleted on account of how i’m not willing to share this). This cd is awesome. I love it. I feel so peaceful, being in someone else’s house, and therefore being surrounded by other people’s possessions and memories as opposed to mine. This relaxes me. This helps me think clearer about everything.

*****

I had really vivid dreams again last night, tucked up high in Kini’s bed with tshirt sheets. In the first, I was back at Garland Road, and we were interviewing prospective flatmates in Clayton’s room. Kate M was there, and maybe Maree as well – I’m not sure. But anyways, the guy was saying that maybe we were too weird for him, which is when I realised i hadn’t seen what colour Kate B had painted her room, so I went to look – it was yellowy marble, and there were these exposed beams (ie it was a totally new room, not the actual one), very farm house.

Another dream that i had put me talking to someone from ASIJ – I can’t remember who the fuck it was though. Anyways, I mentioned Emily Bond, and she didn’t know Emily had died, so we both ended up crying and crying, feeling such a huge sense of loss. It’s strange. I wasnt really that close to her, but in my dream, it was like she’d been my best friend. It was just so odd to be remembering her now too, for no apparent reason. Unless maybe somehow she’s been assigned to be my guardian angel. I’d like that – I did always want to be cool enough to be Emily’s friend. And I could use a guardian angel to make me a better person!

The other dream was that I was staying in a guest house at some big estate, and I was madly looking for some pads, but all I could find were used ones that had been left out in the rain – icky. It was pretty nasty, but since I was waking every two hours to go to the bathroom, pretty appropriate. Oh, exciting breakthrough of the day? Using my first tampon. (this is where you leave real fast if you’re squeamish). I’ve tried them in the past, but was never really able to do it properly. Now, however, I think I almost have it. Maybe it should be in a tiny bit deeper because I can still kind of feel it, but that’s also probably because I just feel so concious that it’s there, if you know what I mean. The first one I put in, both my hands ended up completely covered in blood – it was very dramatic! Second one, there was very little blood, so that’s okay. I was a bit scared the first one wouldn’t come out.

Ahh, vaginas eh? Funny wee things.

****

Today I got up just before 11, and ate cocoa puffs whilst online. Later I had English Muffins and tea. Even later, I rang up Kini and got her to tell me where the shops were. It was a gorgeous day for a walk! I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going, but I found it in the end – some budget supermarket. It was realyl hideously run down, but I got some pads and some pringles, and that was all I was after.

These are highlights from my journal that I kept in my red book in Australia. Obviously, it’s not everything. I was doing a whole bunch of thinking, and no one needs to read all of that. But these are the entertaining highlight parts.

Sunday, June 18th, 2000

So, on that note, let’s move on to Airport stories, ignoring the obvious parallels between this and my last trip to Australia. It was so lovely, being with Maree and Kate M and Brad and CLayton, the people I’m closest to. And yes, of course I cried. I’m going to be away a whole month, and I feel really bad about leaving Brad with all the responsibility of the bills and with finding us a flatmate. But honestly, this trip has been what has gotten me through the past couple of weeks. I have never needed or deserved a holiday more!

****

Stuff is nifty. My feet hurt from queing though! It took soooo long to get through customs. I got stuck in the middle of a whole bunch of Taiwanese on a package tour. They had a tour guide with them, I think, because he talked a lot, loudly, and everyone laughed. He had Elvis hair, and despite his saggy man breasts and beer belly, he was wearng a tight tshirt. It was truel truely hideous! There is a smell like rotton eggs on this plane, which is pretty hideous too.

I’m really excited about this holiday, despite the fact that I’m going to miss my Auckland friends like crazy. It’s going to be really good for me to spend some time alone and record my thoughts. I don’t have to be scared about what I’m thinking either, which is a pleasant change. You know what? I am so proud of myself for surviving when I thought I couldn’t. I mean, I know I broke down and begged Thomas to help me, but when he didn’t, I managed to pull through. Thank god for Shirley and Maree, and Mum especially. All my _friends_ mean so much to me. I want to make them proud of me by taking better care of myself.

Oh, the plane is taking off now. Bye bye Auckland! I wonder if we’ll crash. I don’t think I’d mind – not because I want to die, but because I feel really at peace right now. I’ve had my breakthroughs and everything. Oh dear, I think I’m going to cry again. I _always_ fucking cry at airports, although never before as bad as the last time.

You know, Kara has never seen me sober. Oh dear, she must think I’m a fucking fruit bat. Brave girl, I think she’s lovely. Clayton shouldn’t have been talking about Shirley in front of her. Neither should I. Damn. Ahh well. He’s such a sweetie, I hope they’re happy together!

*****

I think I have developed an unnatural obsession with my drink. I am amazed at how the lemon slice perfectly fits half the glass. I’m intrigued by the bubbles, and wondering how the fuck they could be drawn. I want to scan my glass and use it for a background for Hubris. I need to redesign. I want floating text over a fixed background. It looks like there’s a bullet mark in my window. I could see the bullet moving in slow motion through the window into me, and it just felt like the needle last time they took my blood. There was a _lot_ of vodka in this drink, I think. Oh, they’re serving dinne! It must be all of five pm. How Grandma! I’m still very full from my Pork McRib, but I’ll have a pick at it anyway. The pork McRib was very disappointing, unsuprisingly since I’ve been waiting 3 weeks for it. BUt still, it was good to have a goal!

Ohhh I have reached the very middle of this book. That is very cool. I only wish there was more good writing in this book, instead of dumb babble. Do you think I will ever be published? I’d so love that. I wish I could write a novel, something that would affect other people. I know I’m not supposed to talk about this, but the thing I am most terrified of is that I had no impact on Thomas at all, that I haven’t been significant to him. I know that was the case with Morphine Matt, and both of them affected _me_ so profoundly. I would hate it more than anything if I just didn’t matter to Thomas, if I hadn’t changed or enhanced him in any way.

Chicken or beef? Chicken or beef? Chicken I think. I wonder if I’ll eat again in Melbourne. Probably. But we might save Mihn Mihns for another night. Damn the vegetarian meal smells nice. I am so not hungry though. I had chocolate covered coffee beans and red bull for breakfast today. It made me babble lots, all that caffeine. I think everyone thinks i am looking better too. Sure, I’ve probably put back on the weight I lost (looser jeans were fun!) but maybe I have my spark back. I thought it was gone for good. What’s that Leonard Cohen line? “Thanks for the trouble you took from her eyes – I thought it was there for good, so I never tried”. Well, maybe one day I’ll meet the brother that will make me truely happy.

Witty banter again – the plane wings look awfully flimsy. I wonder if they are made from paper, and if that is completely legal. I should go find a bathroom sometime. After the meal. It’s okay – airplane toilets are too small to kneel in. I rememebr dancing around in my underwear last night in the handicapped stall at Roasted Adiquition, in between sari re-arrangements. Sassy! I’m so glad Shirley liked my speech – I just didn’t know how to do justice to all the things that she’s done for me.

The clouds look just like icebergs. I wonder if I’ll see any dancing penguins. Who the fuck came up with that concept, anyways? I mean, what links chips and penguins??? Oh wait, i guess they ARE called Bluebird. But penguins seem to show up in the oddest places. I mean, Squirt? Linux? What’s going on? Is there some secret penguin conspiracy? Maybe the Emperor penguins are taking themselves too literally.

I think coke should go back to 500mls, and the price should go down again. Fuck that dollar sixty stuff. Oh sorry, that came from me thinking about the 250ml cans you get on aeroplanes. In Japan, coke sometimes comes in 200ml cans, like Red Bull, only they have pull ring tabs that come right off, which are far more dangerous. Oh my god, I remember drinking like, cocoa and shit out of cans too. Here comes the drinks trolley again. But I’d better not. I feel drunk already.

Well, dinner’s over now, and I’m enjoying dessert. It was Chicken curry – not bad, pretty much like Eastern Curries. Better than the Healthy Choice monstrosity Brad brought home yesterday. I am, I am looking after myself! This custard looks remarkably like (admittedly yellower) semen, but it sure tastes a whole lot better. Oh I want your hot cum all over my tits! I think it’s a lot worse watching porn when you are no longer a naive little virgin. Although, quite frankly, how i managed to go through with intercourse after the penetration shots is beyond me!

****

Mmmm, filter coffee, blarrgh! Oh, AND a Bardot remix. Choysa tea, man. And speaking of tea, man I have embraced it very quickly. Which is a good thing. I am way too on edge. One day I am going to have a shoulder massage that won’t hurt because I’ll be so relaxed. Oh yes, I will! But whilst in Melbourne and Wellington, I’ll drink coffee. I don’t know how i’ll get through the days at the MOE otherwise. Mmmmm Fuel Coffee! And mmmm Fuel Hot Chocolate.

****

I think relationships should come with airsick bags. Motion sickness. Emotion sickness. Oh god, I am quoting silverchair. Just as well I switched to the concert station. Goddamit that coffee is FOUL. I really need to pee, but I think there’s someone in the bathroom. This polynesian guy and girl just walked past. They couldn’t have been more than 17, but they were carrying a baby. What goes on?

*****

We must get into Melbourne pretty soon hopefully. I have steel bladder, I can hold on! Fuck it’s going to be good to see Anji again. Must remember to claim sleeping bag. And ask at the bus counter where to get off closest to Fitzroy. Fuck I’ve written heaps. I’m going to read through again.

Ahh, aeroplane toilets. There’s a sign on the door inside that says “please lock” which I think is really unfair, because like, I’d really prefer for everyone to see me peeing. The rubbish bin has funny pictures of things on it that you’re supposed to dispose of in there – emotion sickness bags, razors, nappys. But then there’s something really weird that I can’t figure out, but I guess it must be a pad. Fucking odd looking pad. Maybe it’s like the real old fashioned kind you have to hook onto a belt thingie, like in “Are you there God, it’s me, Margaret”. Maybe. I’m cold. I want my hoodie. Only no, that’s in the cargo hold somewhere.

What does scratch aeroplane windows? They are always scratched, as far as I can tell, but it’s not like planes drive through foliage or anything. What an odd concept!

I keep writign down little quirky observations just like i keep going to reach for my bag and cellie to check for text messages. Only, no, my cellie is in Auckland, n a bag with my Macy Gray cd, my Geri book, and Ru-bear. I miss them all already!

I don’t get why Channel 7 is so much quieter than the other channels. Maybe I should write a letter of complaint. Ha! Beck is on the crooners’ channel, with “tropacalia”. That amuses me biglots.

Wow, I never knew where Melbourne was on the map until now. 46 minutes left. I’m bored. I need something to read! I want my cellphone and text messaging. Ah well. Maybe I’ll try napping. Oh fuck, I had coffee. Hmm, I need another vodka.

Later:

The airport seemd to take forever to clear. Then I had to find my way to the Skybus, and tere was absolutely nowhere to dump my trolley. I had to take it back into the terminal, where I gave it to some woman so she didn’t have to pay to get herself one (I was at the domestic terminal by that stage). But I managed to get myself onto the bus okay, and the bus driver told me to get off at Franklin Station. I was so so tired at that stage, and I just started thinking about how badly lost I got the last time. Plus, I think all the stress of the past month really started catching up to me, and I just about started to bawl. But I didn’t.

Getting off the bus, I was faced with the problem of finding a taxi. I’d kinda thought there would be a rank at the bus station, but no. So instead I set out to walk to a busy looking road, with my handbag and a backpack and suitcase and sleeping bag. I was _not_ a happy camper! No cabs passed me by, so I was searching for a rank. I finally came to some huge big building, so I figured there had to be one there. There was – it just had no taxis waiting. But there were about a dozen Asians. We all had to wait at least ten minutes before the first taxi arrived, and then of course, they got it first. A little while later another taxi came along, and i asked if he could take me to Fitzroy. He said he could, but was I first in line? No. So he said he’d call me another one. Then this girl came up to me and said she’d ordered a couple of taxis. She asked me where I was going, and suggested we share, so I agreed. A taxi came along then, and another one for the last of the Asians, and we were finally off. When we got to Napier Street, the girl said not to worry about paying, but the driver suggested i pay $5, so I did. They were both lovely. If I’d had to wait much longer for a taxi, I probably would have cried!

So we sat around in Anji’s lounge, and I met her flatmate Mike. He has two chicks staying with him, Racheal and Ange, who looked really really similar. At first I thought they were sisters, but when I saw them snogging, I realised otherwise. Racheal “did my numbers” for me, and what I read in the book seemed very true. Ange said she’d cut my hair for me, yay! We smoked some pot and had some red wine, then decided to flag going out to dinner because I was too tired, and Anji seemed kinda tired too. Instead, we ordered in Italian. Anji and I shared a vegetarian pizza. Mike brought down his cd mixer, so we played all sorts of music, from Flying Nun classics to very cool techno. Him and Rach had a fight and looked just like Tekken characters. Later they danced very cooly, like someone from Bust-A-Groove. It was nifty. The one downer was when they started playing Beth Orton, but I thought “no, I’m being dumb”. I am going to reclaim music, and create NEW associations for it. So there!

I’m reading Lolita because I feel like I should. Maybe it’ll offer insight into the whole school girl thing!

When I went to bed, I was like “awww I don’t have my teddy bear” so Anji biffed this huge big bear at me that belongs to Timmy. So I slept with that, and it was lovely. The bear was bigger around than Thomas even, but snored less.

Friday June 16th, 2000

There’s a little red balloon in my ICQ box, which must mean that it’s after midnight, and it’s now my birthday. Happy Birthday me. Yay me. Yay. The big two oh now. I can legally drink. Oh no wait, that’s 18 now. So I guess there’s nothing special about it. I’m feeling very old all of a sudden. Actually, I do feel a whole heap wiser too, so that’s a good thing.

Mum gave me a set of mixing bowls for my birthday, and a rubbish bin. Sure, they are very cool mixing bowls and rubbish bin, but….. well, I guess I am going to Australia partly funded by her, so we’ll forgive her. But next year, instead of having a breakdown, I will spend my time writing a complete list of what i want, like I normally do!

Turned in my final graphics assignments today, which was a biiiiig relief, even though it was fucking annoying trying to get them colour printed – Trumps wanted TEN DOLLARS to take them off a floppy disk, so I was just like “no”. So i printed them in black and white instead, let’s not talk about this anymore. Then I went shopping to get Shirley a birthday pressie, and I got her a pair of satin pajamas, and a travel/work overseas book. So hopefully she’ll like that.

This afternoon, Brad slept through Hollywood Squares, so we didn’t get to play. This means that the final score was 8-4 to me, wuha! We love our afternoon tele, oh yes we do. Then this evening, I was sitting around thinking maybe I should call Maree, but then I decided that she’d probably call. I tried to make a bet with Brad over whether or not she’d show up on our doorstep, but he wouldn’t accept my odds. Half an hour later, low and behold, she rang to say she was coming over, and we laughed lots. But she made us fudge later – no, not fudge packing. Apparently my mind is in the gutter, despite the fact that she calls me a “light horse” (as opposed to a dark horse, obviously). The fudge didn’t set, so we have to eat it off spoons.

I was going to go to the supermarket tonight, but Juice is back on. I discovered that by accident, and sat watching the music video that was on for a couple of minutes before I realised what i was doing. Then I started shrieking in joy, of course. But with the good comes the bad, and in this case, the bad is the news that Dawson’s Creek is going to be moved to Friday nights. There goes Tuesdays at Garland! Cos if we host people on fridays, then they’ll want more entertainment than a bowl of soup or stir fry. What’s a girl to do? Oooh I know! Leave the country for two weeks, and then the city for another two. Brilliant.

So, if I don’t write anymore tomorrow or sunday morning, miss me heaps. You can still email me, and I might be able to get it even. I will definately be online in Welly, and probably in Seedneey. Depends whether or not Kini ever lets me out of bed. Personally, I’m not too fussed – I just wanna sing Dusty Springfield! So yeah, don’t worry if there’s no new entries, it’ll just be cos I’m busy and not in the vicinity of the computer. I’ve handed in all my assignments, exams are over, I’m eating properly, I haven’t thrown up in a week, and the biggest stress in my life now lives in another city. I am doing so much better, and I expect to get even better still.

Hooray for everything!

It’s cold, but not as cold as it has been, and I’m feeling quite snug. I have also just finished my last assignment – designing a business card, advertisement and another cd cover. My ad was for a rave called “Olympia” and it featured a 3D logo typa thing. I made up dj names for it, so there was DJ Twin, cos I was talking to Shirley on the phone, Fork, Spook, and then I started looking around my desk for Molko, Bik, and Korma. Oh and Colour By Numbers, which was an allusion to the number thing I was reading Shirley at the time as well.

Why is it that whenever I’m brokest I go shopping? Maree and I went to St. Lukes today (I rang her – she was like “I was just about to call you, only I thought ‘no, must not call joanna, must study, must not call joanna’ “) so that we could find birthday presents for Shirley, but instead I found myself buying a pressie for Kini, because when I saw it I knew she had to have it, and I love her lots and stuff. And Maree convinced me I needed more foundation, and I DID need saline solution, and a budget hoodie, so I was well served. Except of course, for not getting Shirley a pressie. I will have to look again tomorrow. Oh, we also cut Maree a key, so now Kimmy Gibbler can come over whenever she wants. And she can house-sit for us.

Our ad in the Herald rang today, but only one guy rang about the flat, and he seemed put off by the fact that there’d be four of us in the house. Go figure. He sounded boring anyway. We still have ads up at uni and AUT, and will have a couple in the trade and exchange coming out on Monday, but it just seems like a lost cause really. I’m stressed, yes, but Brad is calm, and it’s him that’s going to be left here alone whilst Clay and I trot off on our holidays. Although of course, Maree will be around. She’s driving me mad lately calling me “cutie cutie cutie”. Apparently she thinks the number of guys that I have slept with is extremely cute. I’m not sure I agree with her, but I guess the fact that I’ve uncontrollably started sucking my thumb doesn’t help much either. Brad keeps on laughing at me for that too. And if Clayton was ever home, he probably would as well. Man, I’ve become such a target for ridicule! It’s just not fair!!!!!

Three more sleeps to go! I am very very excited, as you can imagine I would be. Our house is such a pigstye right now – I dont’ know whether I should clean it before I go or not. Brad reckons this is our equilibrium, half way between the mess of Simon, and the clean of Thomas. Gosh, I quote an awful lot of other people, don’t I? Oh yeah, I wanted to quote this too:

From: “Peter Mahoney”
Date: June 14, 2000 7:37:20 AM EDT
To: Joanna McLeod

“Peter and Kate M were discussing my journal tonight at the bar, cos they’re both sometimes readers. ”

Sometimes readers? I’m so desparate for human connection these days that I actually got on the net tonight *just* to see if you’d added anything new to your journal.

Heh. It’s always nice when there are people sadder than me. I still haven’t fixed my desk chair. I’ve stolen a dining room chair instead. Oh, remind me to ring Dr. White tomorrow and reassure her that I’m still alive. And I must ring Penny and invite her for saturday, and do some more laundry, and write a packing list. My life is very exciting, as you can see. Yaaaaaaaaaaaay I turned in my report on my cd rom today. Brad had lent me his laptop last night so I could work on it in the lurve tent. Damn I wanna laptop now. I felt so New Media. If only it was an ibook. Right, I’m just rambling now. I should stop. Okay.

Oooh I got my first birthday card yesterday, from Karen – it was one of those square cards that I really dig, and it had a picture of a girl on it, and the words “Drama Queen”. Bitch!

Tuesday, June 13th, 2000

Fuck it’s cold! I wish I was back in the Lurve Tent. Yesterday Brad brought home a HEATER from his parents’ house, so I hung two sheets across the lounge to trap in the heat and make it more cosy, and it worked. Me and him and Clayton even all studied together in it to conserve warmth and stuff. It was cool. I actually even learnt a few things, explaining telecom stuff to Clay, which is just as well cos I ended up writing an essay on it today.

Yes, that’s right, I had my (fingers crossed) final exam ever today. And gosh, it was enthralling stuff. Me and Clay and Maree and Brad all wore scarves today, so we looked like a pack of scarfies driving in. No wonder the petrol station attendants laughed at me as I put $5 worth of petrol in the car Or as the attendant did it anyways. One day I will learn for myself!

But yeah, anyways, the xam was okay. I spent a great deal of thinking about Australia and about my upcoming birthday and about Dawson’s Creek and basically anything except the essays I was writing. Afterwards, we all went to London Bar, and I was really annoyed cos drinks were only $2.25 but I had my car so I could only have one drink. And then I started stressing out about money, and the lack of flatmate, and everything, and before you knew it, I was crying in the bathroom, but I guess that makes a nice change from feeling sick, so it was okay. Then we dropped Shirley home, and beat a swifty retreat home too, via Foodtown for wine and Wendys for dinner. Straight into the Lurve Tent, put the heater and TV on, and then Shirley and Jody showed up for Dawson’s.

So that was cool, having lots of people made it even cosier inside the tent. They stayed for Roswell too, so that was good. Actually, it was really weird watching it with a pack of analyzing girls. Kate M was pretty onto it though. And Jody was all like, understanding and shit, it was cool. She was very impressed to see the flat she’d seen so much of in my cd rom. Oooh, that’s right, it’s burnt now and handed in, wahoo! Now I just have a 15% report, and a 40% graphics assignment. Sweet as bro. Oh, and find a flatmate so as to cut down the bills. Maree rang me twice tonight while babysitting. I really really should cut off her privileges. Right now she’s having all the fun and support without the commitment – hang on, that sounds a tad familiar. Why buy the cow when you can sit on the horns for free?

Peter and Kate M were discussing my journal tonight at the bar, cos they’re both sometimes readers. Apparently, Kate M doesn’t like the fact that she gets the M put into her name, but I’ve known Kate B for like 14 years, so she’s been Kate to me for longer. I could call Kate M “Unpopular Kate” out of deference to Popular Kate H, but that’d sound nasty. And there’s already a Hairy Kate, and a Forni-Kate, so yeah, personally I think Kate M is better. Don’t you?

Oh yeah the other thing I did tonight was call up Andee, since she’d rung me yesterday but we hadn’t been able to talk for long since i had to study. Fuck, I love that girl so much! I had an awful lot to catch her up on, as you can imagine. She says the coolest shit, none of this namby pamby being nice like my other friends. Straight to the point, I ended up screeching my head off. She said she thinks Hugh is back in Hammy now – I am so going down there when I get back from Oz (FIVE SLEEPS MUMMY!) Other classic Andee quotes “fuck, Matt is so petty. I should email him!” which makes me laugh, even if it doesn’t you. I should really redo my quotes page in the whole blahblah section, since it’s like a year and a half old now, and not at all fresh and relevant. Boy oh boy it is cold. Wake up little toes! Time to take me to bed!

Well, my peppermint tea is stewing, so yes, I will write an entry now. It’s strange, I used to always love writing my journal, but lately it seems a tiny bit forced, like I have to assure people I am actually still alive, no matter what I feel like. I don’t like appearing to be unchipper, you see. However, I can play a bit part anyways.

I had a shitty day today though, lots of little things being dumb. It got better, but still. It rained on me lots as I was walking to the bus stop. Sure, I’m not made out of sugar and I don’t exactly melt, but still, until the weather in Auckland gets better, traffic problems will never be solved. Then two of my eftpos cards got declined when I knew there was money in the account. Then a floppy disk full of pictures I needed for my rom wouldn’t work. Then the email of them that Thomas sent me wouldn’t come through. Then I spent six hours working on my rom. Which is always enough to put someone in a bad mood.

But then Thomas and I had a really yummy dinner at Mezze, even if I couldn’t keep it down, and then went for drinks with James, which was cool. One day I will go back to the Occidental and try their raspberry beer. And the Playhouse was cool too. Burger King was less so. And of course it sucked that I had no money. I hate owing people money. Even if it’s someone that owes me anyway.

Did I mention that it’s going to cost $94 to get my car window fixed? Or that my warrant is due on Friday? Or that my doctor still hasn’t got back to me with my all my test results from the first round of blood, and none of the results from the second? Did I mention that I’m going to Australia in 12 days? I am so so so excited about that. I’m sure Kini would be terrified if she knew exactly how much I am looking forward to seeing her again. But first I must do three assignments and an exam and oh yeah I failed my mass com essay, no suprises there really. Also I have to write a speech for Shirley’s 21st, which will be fun, and get her a birthday present.

It’s probably just as well that I have so much to do or I’ll go mad after Friday afternoon. Damn, I just caught the last bars of “Fade Into You”. If I could hear that now, maybe that’d unwind me. Or perhaps I should play “No Suprises”. Maree and I were watching a Radiohead video on Sunday, and I remembered my soup and blanket complex: I want to take Thom Yorke home, wrap him up in a blanket, wipe his nose and feed him lukewarm soup. I always fall for boys who seem to need taking care of. I prefer taking care of others than taking care of myself. Damn I’m tired. Can we watch Roswell now please?

Is it ironic at all that I lay in bed reading about Victim Feminisim while Fiona Apple wailed away on my stereo?

Because of vomitting and long late night long distance phone calls and that sort of thing, I didn’t go into tech today. I did, however, get out of bed to give Clayton the converter plug, without which I can’t plug my modem into the phone lines. He hasn’t given it back to me yet, but that’s probably a good thing. I just don’t know when I’ll get to upload this entry. But that doesn’t matter all that much anyways.

I’ve done 1/3 of my intercom work, which is a good thing, I think. Yes. It’s astonishing how quickly I can actually do it, if I didn’t get distracted all the time. But I do get distracted, by Freecell and newspapers and thoughts and stuff that should all just be erased. Stuff. Ha.

Showers are where I spend an hour scrubbing the tiles because I don’t want to leave pounding hot water. The laundry floor is where I curled up last night after vomiting and we’ll just blame that on the gin at Shirley’s, because that’s easier.

And this is fucking victimism. I’m fucking suffering – pity me. Excuse me. And all that shit. No, I can’t write this. Or I can write this, but I can’t share this. Because I hate myself and I wanted to throw up. It’s like Bulemia chic or something. I wanted to eradicate him from my system. Why does that make me want to hurt myself? Do I want to make him guilty? Make him feel responsible? The hot hot shower was better than thinking about scalding myself, submerging myself in boiling water. I’d never reach for knives – I just want to burn. Burn his touch out of me. Burn his fucking memory out of me. I was lied to. I was just his fucking dalliance. His fucking whore. And I don’t know what’s worse - that he really did think that he loved me, or that he was just using me all along. So I feel total hate now, and yet I still love him, and I’d probably take him back, even if he was just going to be thinking of ’her’ the whole time.

And more scary, there’s Tony resurfacing when I was on the laundry floor last night. It’s not the memory of the night, it’s the memories of the subsequent nights where I’ve cried and I’ve screamed – of the motel kitchen, Abby’s lawn, Charlotte’s kitchen, my bedroom. And I can’t get over it. Not when the only guy that made me safe turns out not to care about me. And there are the bruises he left on me – and I enjoyed them. What kind of sick fucked up bitch does that make me? Is that my legacy? And when he pinned my wrists down to the bed, and his kiss was too deep, too much, and I couldn’t move, and it was just like Tony. I hate being damaged. I hate my jealousy issues. I hate how I can’t stand up for myself. I hate that I hate myself. It’s all so self pitying and pathetic. I want it to stop. I need it to stop. I don’t have an eating disorder but maybe I should develop one. And that’s just fucked up, but all I want to do is cram full of that icecream and then throw it up again, but I can’t even vomit properly. I need for this to end.

I’ve got to go to Australia. And there, what’s going to happen? Am I going to throw myself at every possible guy? Turn myself into a whore the way he treated me? Maybe I want to be fucked while I cry, because it can’t be special. It can’t be like the way it was with him, because it turns out that I was nothing, I was a time filler. So maybe if I suck the cocks of everyone else, if I swallow them too, they’ll eradicate him from my system. Other hands touching me – sure, it makes my stomach churn to think about ti now, but maybe if I just let them do it enough, it’ll be okay. They can muffle me, and I won’t say no. Because how can I respect myself if he couldn’t?

I can’t hardly even read what I’m writing. I’m so sick of this self loathing, but I guess it’s better to purge this way than head over a toilet bowl. I must get clean. I need help. Or maybe I just need to drop the amatuer dramatics. I need I need I need to get a grip. Like he said. And I need to grow up. Because pretending like my problems are more serious than they actually are does not make me cool.
It does not make me glamourous. It only serves to fuck me up more, and that’s not something I really need right now.

My self esteem had been so good lately, and now it’s getting knocked back and I just sit there and let it. This is fucked. I swear, I’ve got problems. I argue with myself so much. Is this right? Is it normal to have such a nasty person at the back of my head, telling me how pathetic I am?

I don’t deserve this. I’m a good person.I try and suppress all the bad things I could do. I could say so much about him, expose him, attack him. I think I know him well enough to see where his vunerabilities are. He could probably do the same to me. I have to hope that he won’t because I’d just crumple. I’m so afraid of his scorn. I don’t want to have to hate him, but I can’t do it any other way. he
won’t let me. Why did it have to turn so bitter and nasty? For brief instances, I had paradise. but there’s always her in the background, her that he lied to me about. He said he loved me, and he was wrong. I just have to cling to thinking that he believed it when he said it, that he wasn’t intentionally taking me for such a ride. Surely all his concern for me couldn’t have just been a cover? No one could be that cruel, surely?

But then again, how could anyone love me? He wasn’t loving me for my face or body – no matter how many times he called me sexy. So I could make him come, that doesn’t make me jesus. That just makes me easy. And my personality? Insecure to the point of
neurosis, jealous, self centred, over dramatic, fucked up, pretending to be fucked up. There’s nothing there. I think that maybe he loved that I could love him. And that’s why he tried, for a while, to keep me. he needed me to feed his own ego.

Sounds like Morphine Matt. I really love my victim role, don’t I? Why the fuck can’t I trust my natural instincts? I’m like this fucking hopeless romantic, and maybe I love the abuse. That’s it. I feel like I deserve it. I need REAL trauma because the other traumas
I’ve had I made up or exagerated out of control. Give me life, give me pain, give me myself again and all that shit.

I’ve got to stop this.

I don’t know what I’m going to do with this entry. There’s the part of me that wants to put it up for the whole world to see. I want them to suffer along side of me. I want their false pity and their “awww”. And maybe I want more anger from him, so that I can hate him some more, so that I can sting. And then I’m so scared of what he could do to me. I’m not some stupid fucking suicidal twelve year old anymore, but I don’t want to risk it. I don’t want to be pushed to the edge by him hating me anymore than he already does. And I don’t want to be laughed at. Maybe I’m fucking terrified of that. I don’t want to be dismissed as melodramatic and pathetic, although I’ll do that to myself. I don’t want people to worry about me. Well, I want some people to worry, and others not to. And I don’t want to expose myself further, while I want to expose everything.

I will think for a while on these things. But oh god – I wish I could just turn off my mind. Six days till I go to Australia. I’ve got to hold on.