Hubris.co.nz

I have been as busy as a mongoose lately. A mongoose! And consequently, there is not a part of my body that doesn’t ache. Except for maybe my right ear. But that’s it.

After work on Tuesday, Karen and I went to jump into the ocean by the lagoon. Something went wrong with the way I was holding my head as I jumped off the plank though, and as I plunged into the water I felt as if I was receiving an enema through my nose. Not a pleasant feeling at all, I tell you. In fact, it made my throat and ears ache, and made me feel really sick. Add to that the teenage boys yelling “stingray!” at each other, and then the something solid that brushed my hand that made me swim and hide behind Kar, and when she saw a jellyfish I was well ready to get out. So I texted the divine Miss Fur and she came to pick me up and we went to the fish’n chip shop in Lyall Bay then drove out of the sun to go eat on the pier by my secret beach.

On Thursday Anji and I went to a pilates class at our gym for the first time. It seemed easy enough while we were doing it, although I got trembling holding my left leg in the air for so long, but afterwards, my abs were screaming. Oh yes, I apparently have abs. And for the rest of that night and all of Friday I felt like I was wearing a corset, I was so aware of them. I drove out to the airport to pick up Lani and three of her giggling friends who are staying with us, and then Lisa came to get me again for the Julia Deans (that’s her from Fur Patrol for those of you not in the know) solo accoustic gig at Happy. We got there shortly after 9pm, and were told it wasn’t on til 10 so we went to Karen’s house and made fun of her for a while before going back. Man oh man was I tired. Ryan Prebble didn’t start playing until after 11, and even though I’m sure he’s a lovely man and that some people were into his music, I started having fantasies about his guitar strings breaking as he was twanging them so hard and cutting him and him bleeding out and dying on stage so that Julia could start sooner. And then the taste in my mouth let me know that I’d actually fallen asleep for half a minute. But when Julia finally started singing, ti was all worthwhile. She did lots and lots of new stuff, no old Fur Patrol, and ‘Freak show’ and wow, her voice sure is stunning. The annoying part was that someone had brought along a baby, who cried. What the fuck? Yes, the baby was wearing ear muffs, and yes, apparently the mother was known to Julia who stopped and said “I know it’s not the volume cos that baby’s been to Shihad gigs!” but hi, you are not Gywneth, and this is not Live8 (and no one should ever aspire to be Gywneth anyways, because dude, could you pick a more bland milksoppy role model? Maybe Andie Mcdowell. But still.). I can put up with screaming kids at the beach because I suppose I do swim by the kids’ playground so I’m asking for it, but I don’t care if Happy was the first smokefree bar and it was fairly quiet, children are totally inappropriate in that context. Yes sir. But yes, apart from that, good times. I thought about how I can totally see the way I’m replacing you in the role that you used to have, and how even though I know what I’m doing is dumb it’s going to happen anyway, but meh, maybe I will go with this week’s counselling work whereby instead of being all “I should be doing this or that” or whatever, I can be all “I am making a choice to do blah blah blah”. I totally dig on how she gets my semantical issues.

Because Lani’s friends were sleeping in the lounge when I got home I couldn’t have my usual unwinding time with the television when I got home, so I couldn’t get to sleep for ages so Friday morning I was dreadfully dreadfully tired, but hopped up on excitement about the forthcoming weekend. After work I went to the ministry social club drinks where Lani introduced me to her friends – many of whom know my father, and I laughed at where a couple of the boys apparently thought my eyes were. I suppose the Mary-Kate and Ashley locket I was wearing that Martha made me buy at Craftwerk did help to draw the eye down to Mary-Kate and Ashley, which was of course totally the point. But it made me feel appreciated. Yes. I only stayed for one glass of wine though, because I ahd to go home to eagerly await the arrival of KateH and Shirley, hurrah! We had a couple of bottles of bubby while doing much gossip catch-up, and it was lovely. A couple of times I felt a bit weird, because I always used to be better friends with both of them than they were with each other, but of course now I live in Wellington and they don’t, so they have all these stories about people I don’t really know and tales to tell about nights together and I was just like “waah, left out”. But Shirley has just moved to Palmy now to finish her grad dip, so the balance will be restored again. Muahaha. We’d planned to go out to dinner but instead I fished bolognaise out of the freezer while they went for more wine. Then we went to Fia’s birthday party, and I didn’t check the address so we wandered around the top of Ghuznee St for ages trying to find a number that didn’t exist, being invited to student parties playing Metallica before I checked my phone and saw I had two digits wrong. So we got there in the end. Mostly I just talked to Karl and Amber, and laughed at the very very drunk very very young lady who tried to hit on both Shirley and KateH because she was missing her girlfriend. When we were in the taxi home I rang Lisa and decided to go to her house to panda-dance, so the girls went home to watch taped Daily Shows which Shirley didn’t like and is therefore off my weddding guest list.

It was a Saturday the next day, strangely enough, but much like last weekend when I didn’t get to sleep in because I went to the Petone fair with Shayne and Lani to see the wonderful Sue and Martha, I had to get up early to make the most of the day. This meant Shirley, KateH and I taking the bus in to the Cuba St Carnival, leaving like before 11am! I know right, haaaaaaaaaardcore. We were as awake as lemurs. Even though I’m sure it got much more crowded as the day went along, Cuba St was buzzing, and I was so fucking proud to be a Wellingtonian. I was also stoked that all of my “I am the boss of the weather and it will be sunny tomorrow!” blustering had paid off and it was still and baking. We wandered around for an hour or so, People’s Coffee from Plum in hand (I actually don’t really like it. Stink), and KateH bought a top, I found a hat that actually fit my huge head in Frutti so I bought that, and Shirley got a hat too. We also popped into Slowboat to see Ev, and now she probably thinks I am insane. Nevermind. Then it was just after 12 and we’d seen everything so I decided we should go home to get my car and go to my secret beach. So we did. KateH and Shirls were all “oooh eeek arrrgh too cold!” so they sat on the beach and read “Next (heh), while I had a bloody nice swim.

Lani and her friends were on salad duty, which cut down on my prep work for Country Club: Australia rather substantially. I went to the supermarket for beer (VB) and assorted snarlers and charcoal and ice and so on and so forth while Shirley and KateH did the dishes. We made dips, filled up a tub with ice and beer and then I turned our washing line into a pavilion in the style of Spiceworld (remember? In the grounds of the big old spooky house and they’re all wearing different coloured bathrobes, sucking chuppa chups and planning how to set up Debra and Clifford) with the help of a large couch cover, some pegs, some lime green netting curtains and assorted mattresses, pillows and lanterns. It looked bloody marvellous by the time I was done, even if it didn’t provide quite as much shade as I’d hoped. The absolutely fantastic Jimmy turned up and for a very long time it looked like he was going to be the only boy there, so he had to Make Fire by himself, although I stood around and fetched beer. Luckily Dave showed up to be manly with him. I had a period of total Hostess Anxiety because the bbq was going slowly so we thought we might have to cook some things indoors, and I didn’t know what, or when or how, and Lani’s friends were in the house so I thought if we took the food outside they might not get anything, and my friends Anne and Frances were in the kitchen preparing respectfully shrimp and falafel and I wanted to talk to everyone at once and make sure that everythign was going okay and the ghetto blaster on the stairs kept skipping on the mix CD Lisa brought (AC/DC and Powderfinger and Icehouse and Midnight Oil and the Vines and Jebidiah etc) aaaaaaaaargh freak out! So I made a choice to just sit down and have another beer. And things got much easier from then on in. I grilled some venison burgers indoors and the shrimp and falafel were fried, and people ate, and the boys tended the bbq most faithfully and more people came adn the sun went down, and ahhhh bliss. Lisa left for a while to go see the Phoenix Foundation play, and Lani and her friends took off, so it was just my posse hanging out. Instead of eating the pavlova I’d bought to be controversial, we toasted marshmallows and pears over the coals and the sugar cominded with the mango margaritas once the beer ran out made me incredibly fucking hypo. I jumped around and danced in the garden to CDs that reminded me of Volcanic and also the Pulp Fiction soundtrack that soundtracked my first-ever pash, and was just very very amped to go back into town to meet up with Shirls and KateH who’d left earlier and see the Battacuda Sound System, or whatever the correct spelling is.

We managed to squeeze six of us into Miss Lisa’s car so we could drop Frances home, and so Kar and Dyl and I were dropped off by Manners Mall to head up to Swan Lane to the big stage and crowds. I was still VERY VERY HYPER and yes, I am writing much like I was talking and jittering. It was fun. While we were waiting for the band to start the boy from the Great Blend showed up, so we chatted for a bit and it was nice to see that contrary to the stoogling results I’d turned up, he is actually just a secret ginga. Heh. Battacuda were SO MUCH FUN! I danced like a crazy person and so my calves are still aching today, because apparently dancing on concrete is not as soft and accomodating as you might think it could be. If you were stupid. I was all very hyped up so we went to Havana after, and danced some more. KateH and Shirley went home but Dyl was all let’s stay out! so I did, and then after one more drink both him and Kar were like “tired now, let’s go” and I was like you guys are DICKS. But there was a taxi right outside the door, and so that was handy. I told Karen to remember it was a black’n gold one, and texted her when I got home fine. I wasn’t that drunk, but I’m trying to form good habits in case of insane drunkenness at a later date. Ahh taking care of myself, nice work.

When I woke up on Sunday I felt like I’d been hit by a truck, what with the calves, and the pimple just inside my nose, and the cut on my foot and the scratches from Sebby who was a little unnerved by the masses of people at the BBQ – so much so that he almost didn’t want to eat steak – but he dragged it away to eat in private and emerged much calmer – and all, but I still managed to get showered and dressed and to take the girls to the Maranui Surf Cafe for breakfast. We had to wait for aaaaaaaaaaaaages to get a table and then for our food but it was well worth it because dude, Wellington is so fucking rad. I dropped KateH in town after that and said sad goodbyes to Shirley who had to return to Palmy for her first day of school today. I spent the afternoon lying in the pavillion reading Prep (so good! although I expected more sex and panties from a book set in a boarding school) and then bonding with my couch and HDD once the wind got too strong. I did a mountain of dishes and threw away salads and prawn heads, but cleanup wasn’t too bad thanks to the wonders of disposable plates. I discovered that Smoo wasn’t actually dead in a gutter but had instead gone to Hammy with Bart for the weekend. When they got back they came over to bbq up the leftovers. But it turns out that Jimmy is teh BBQ King and they can’t even touch him. Much like Hammer. While Bart trying to catch flaming pieces of paper with his bare hands was somewhat entertaining, we resorted to cooking on the stove instead. Smoo ate about a thousand chops, so KateH and I were looking forward to seeing Bart polish off a whole pavlova, but that didn’t happen, sadly. So there is still some passionfruit pav with Kiwiberries (so weird!) in our fridge if you are hungry. Okay? Okay.

Today I got up early to take KateH to the airport, but she fetched me coffee while I was in the shower so I love her for that. And that’s about all I have to say for now, I think.

This reader emailed me on Sunday to ask if I was dead, and I wrote back that I was, and it didn’t feel too far from the truth at that stage. Yes, I had another mini breakdown. Yes I am okay now. I went to see Dr White today, and we’re bumping me up to 30mg of cipramil instead of 20mg for a bit. Also, Kalpana had called her (I okayed that) and told her that I was doing really really well and had responded heaps to the therapy, which is true, and also why it was so weird that I should have such an extreme relapse. Oh well. I’ve written enough about it elsewhere.

Right now I am home totally alone for the first time in ages, and it’s LOVELY. Johnny is at work, Lance and Ammy are at Darren’s having dinner with Annoying Jonny, Daniel is at some journo meeting and umm, yeah, that’s four, that’s all my flatmates. Bo’s moved out to Milton cos the rent was much much cheaper there, and it’s just up the road. I am waiting for a purple sleeping pill to kick in. Dr White almost laughed at me today when I said “and I know that you can’t give me a big prescription for sleeping pills…” but she gave me four days instead of two, which is lovely cos I am so fucking flat out exhausted. Depression is tiring business when it stops you from sleeping.

I’ve had a day and a half off work this week due to sickness, which means that I’m a little behind on my work. I have my story to do on the Prostitution Law Reform bill in which I talk to three sex workers to finish tomorrow, and I want to do a really really really brilliant job on it because I’m lucky to be in position to write it, knowing people in the industry. Oh yes, I have my finger in many pies. This issue also will have my story on the Australian band Taxiride. Jason Singh wants the world to know he does not sleep with teenage groupies. Heh.

What else? Lots of parties and events and gossip. One of the boys I fancy has a girlfriend, I found out. However, *1 has apparently moved to Auckland. I’d be more excited if I wasn’t dedicated to a life of celibacy. Sebastian has fleas but I’m feeding him garlic brewers’ yeast to get rid of it. Apparently that works. I also have to take him to the vet. Oh god, I’m a crazy old lady with cats already.

Friday September 6th, 2002

Last night, I went as KateH’s +1 to Salmonella Dub at the Saint James, but we were both pretty drunk before we met up, and then she said she could get me drinks on receipt, so I was like, well sure, so we just ended up sitting in the booths upstairs gossiping/yelling _with_ each other, not at each other, cos she’d had a bad day, and I had conspiracy theories running around in my head, and oh god, I just wanna say (and you know I sorted this out with you Katie, so this is not a diss) how can you people not be able to tell the difference between “so I met this guy last night and he was totally amazing and I felt really close to him and I so want to see him again” and “I shagged a boy last night – he was really nice but we had no connection”? Maybe my communication skills aren’t as good as I’d like to think that they are. I know y’all have my best interests at heart though and I love you for it. Too defensive my fucking ass.

Anyways, so we didn’t even see Salmonella Dub, though we heard them, and then KateH went to the B-Net afterparty, and I managed to blag my way in cos I wanted to spend more time with her. I have to say, the so called “cool” people of this world are actually really fucking boring. Then I went home and lay on the floor in the lounge for hours and hours watching Nine Inch Nails videos and then talking on the phone til almost 5am.

Today I got woken up by Penny calling at 10.30am, and so she came round around 1pm and we caught up on the St Pats Boys gossip from the CarnageMatakana party. Then Anji rang me with hot exciting gossip. Now I am going to have a shower and take my green folder and go to bed.

BUT! The purpose of this journal really is to let you know that I have finished my zine, “BOYS BOYS BOYS BOYS BOYS” and I would like to trade it with you. Zines, yes, how retro 1993. Go to this page for more information, and yeah, that’ll be cool. Thank you!

Dammit, some slapper has just stolen my bathroom. Must go sort this out!

Sunday August 25th, 2002

Oh my god, if there’s Carnies in the Tane, then there’s Sheer Total Carnage in Matakana. You have to excuse me if I sound a little rambling or crazy – I have an ear ache and also I was woken at 6.30am so that Andy could get back to Auckland in time to go to church. I kid you not. But we’ll take the narrative back to yesterday, which gives me more time to figure out if I wanna include some things that happened last night that I am very not happy about or not, or if we should just leave that in the “really someone else’s business even though it really shoulda been MY business” basket or not. Did you know that lately I have been all about figuring out which baskets to put things into?

So anyways, since I was informed on Friday that the party was to have a SchoolBoys/Schoolgirls theme I went and bought me a tie, which I paired with my tight black shirt, my denim skirt (which I rolled up at the top to make it shorter), my burgandy maryjanes and some black and white striped socks which I borrowed off Bopha. She put my hair into two bubbles on either side of my head, and I loaded up on blusher, eyeliner and blue eyeshadow. The look I was after was Slutty Schoolgirl, since I have never worn a uniform in my life, and since I was very chaste in high school. Clayton wore his hockey uniform – purple top and short shorts. Mmmm lovely. It felt really weird to be wearing a skirt that ended above my knees, but I was feeling good. I felt even better when I got into Andy’s car and Jody handed me a mizone bottle for the trip filled with vodka lime soda. Ahhhh liquor from water bottles, how very highschool! So yeah, the hour plus drive up to Matakana was really fun, singing along to crazy lionel ritchie mix tapes that Andy had made. It was crazy to go out through the country and drive through Warkworth and everything.

When I got to the party, straight away KateM was like “DID YOU SEE HIM? HE’S HERE!!!” and I was like “no way!” and she was like “he’s totally here” and you’re like “who who who?” and I’m like, *I, of course, the first boy I ever pashed, the one who told me that my hair was choice and who I was in luuuuurve with for a year after we scored, and who i never talked to again. So that was very exciting, and naturally, there were carefully orchestrated trips to the kitchen to try and get a look at him, but I felt like i was being too obvious and felt dumb, so instead I just went into the dining room where they were all playing drinking games and asked what they were playing and was told to pull up a seat. Nice. So we played Musical Instruments, which is like Sexual Connotations, except that, obviously, instead of sexual actions, you play pretend instruments. Eventually, I had to do *I’s instrument, and he was like “right back at you, Jo” and I was all !!!!! oh my god he remembers me! Heheheheh I am such a geek sometimes. But of course, me being me, that nessecitated lots of whispering to Jody and KateM and Clayton in excitement afterwards.

And then there was assorted dancing, and more drinking from the mizone bottle and all that sorta shenanigans, and lots of bonding with Jody, and talking to various people, until at one stage, *I came up to me, and was like “hey, I thought I’d be social” and he said that he remembered Clayton from the Gomez concert (you remember how I bitched that Clay had got to see *I and I hadn’t?) and then Clay took the hint from me and drifted away. He was like “so..” and I was like “wow, you remember me – I’m so impressed” and he was like “yeah, and I wanna apologise for anything wrong that I might have done to you – I’m a lot nicer person now” and I tell you, I just about swooned. He was still really really tall and spunky looking and we chatted for ages and ages. I told him he’d been the first boy I’d pashed and so of course I’d had a crush on him, and he seemed all sorry, and I was like “oh don’t be! you didn’t do anything wrong except not call when you said you would!”. And he apologised again. My god, I know it was like, six and a half years ago, so I’m just totally completely impressed. And just a little smitten again, he was so charming. I told him like my entire work history, and he told me about what he’s been up to, and about Sarah and Dylan and yeah. Eventually he was like “well, I’m going to get a drink” so I was like “it was really cool talking to you” and he’s all like “oh, I’ll talk to you later!” and I was just yeah, a little puddle on the floor. I’m so impressed with my ability to chose well at age 15! Although really, there wasn’t much of a choice. But that’s beside the point.

Anyways, that was definitely the highlight of the party, cos pretty much everything went all downhill from there. It was a very very very very very weird night. Do I want to spill my beef? Yes, okay I will. Because it super super super bugs me. You know Jody, my good friend? The one who was trying to organise to get me to score *I again, cos she knew how much of a crush on him that I used to have, and how much I was lusting after him that night, and blah blah blah? Well, yeah. You can guess what ended up happening. And the goddam house music just didn’t stop. It danced on and on and on and on. And there were some cool things that happened too, but thre were too many weird situations, and I ended up taking herbal sleeping pills and codeiene cos the music just wouldn’t stop and consequently had very fucked up scattered dreams on the couch and then was woken at 6.30am by Andy taking me home. And I’ve lost my denim jacket and that really fucks me off. I tried to sleep in the back seat, still wrapped up in my duvet, but I had to make him stop so I could throw up on the wall of a gated community in Albany. I felt like it was a political statement as well.

I showered and went to bed as soon as I got home, but eventually Bo was being a loud crackwhore cos she didn’t realise I was home, so she woke me up. I went to KateH’s to watch Dawson’s Creek, and then we went to Occam for some excellent food. That’s all.

Thursday, July 18th 2002

In which Joanna ponders her ovaries in some detail

Yesterday I’d half written this excellent disection breaking down the stereotypes in the Breakfast Club which I’d watched that afternoon on two glasses of wine and some codeiene cos I was bored, and I wrote how I could easily match up the nerd, the weirdo and the stupid jock to people that I’ve shagged, and also probably the badass but I was having trouble matching the Molly Ringwald princess character until Tom told me exactly who it corrolated with because of major Princess Complex going on with that particular person and he was so right, but anyways, I lost that whole entry because I had to go and take a drunken phonecall from Anji, and spent over an hour only saying “Yep”, “ahuh” and “yeah”. I could have been a character on the West Wing, if I’d said it with that funny abbreviated swallowing their words kinda way that they all do (Incidentally, I can’t remember who it was that said it, but someone suggested that there’s only one character on the West Wing and I sometimes think that they’re right. CJ is still fabulous though.)

But anyways, that was yesterday, along with Maree phoning to say thank you for the faxes I sent her the other day, so I invited her around to eat vege lasange with me (it was the fucking best lasange ever, with leeks and onions and mushrooms and bromocoli and kidney beans for protein and pumpkin and tomato and everything). That was probably the highlight’o my day, seeing her. No wait! The other highlight yesterday was a suprise coffee in the courtyard of Strawberry Alarm Clock with KateH who is my sunshine although she shoulda been working. Was that yesterday? Or the day before? I can never remember. Wait, I think I wrote about that already, so maybe that was Tuesday. Who knows?

Blah blah blah. Work today. Right now Clay and BradC are at Pluto and Gomez, the bastards. I asked them to bring me back Milan, but I doubt that they’ll remember to, since it took BradC exactly one month to bring me my birthday present. And I still maintain that a cinnamon donut really ain’t any kinda present. They were drinking Soju and also Cider before, so I laughed at them over the top of my dry martini with a twist and the olives on the side. Then BradC got under my duvet cos he was cold and Clay gave me looks, which is ridiculous cos he already gave me full permission to pursue him if I want to, but I don’t think I do. I need to learn to make myself happy without having to disengage my brain all the time, etc. Plus, I’ve done enough pursuing for the year.

Also, I have had the dull distant ache of a soft headache all day, so I know it’s the goddam pill, and I’m going to have to do some serious thinking. If I skip the sugar pills, there’s a risk that I’ll have PMS all month, and I don’t think anyone would be able to deal with that. If I don’t, then I might always have this ache when I’m on the sugar pills, and while it’s not the fullscale migraine’o last time, I do realise that i’m going to have to make sure that I have full oxygen going to my brain at all times in order to keep it from getting to that evil “I think I’m going to die because something has exploded in my skull feeling”. And you know what maintaining proper breathing means that I can’t do. Grrr. So I guess I could go off the pill. I’m not using it as birth control, cos ha, do you ever see anyone actually fancying me enough to have a dedicated relationship with me where I trusted them enough to stop using condoms? I doubt it (side note – I am 22 years old and only one person has ever told me that they loved me). But in theory, the pill is regulating my ovaries – and also apparently clearing up my skin and making me less hairy. My skin isn’t really that bad though, is it? And yeah, I have horrible hairy hobbit feet, but that hasn’t seemed to have changed over the past two months. However, yeah, I do want to get my ovaries in line. Hmmm. Maybe I will wait til I’m next sick and needing to see my doctor and then I’ll discuss it with her. Dammit, if this was two months ago, I could still go see her for free cos of the whole U22 free sexual health visits.

Blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah. I think I had more to talk about but maybe I don’t. Bopha is coming back tomorrow – oh how I have missed my little girl! And I get to see KateH again too, and that kicks ass. If I had been good and gone to watch them all playing indoor netball, I coulda seen her and Maree and JeremyO today, but Maz said that they weren’t going to be wearing short skirts, so really, what would the point have been?

I really wanted to go to Gomez, but it was $60, and I’ve been increasingly crowdfreakouted, so I dunno if it woulda delivered $60 worth’o satisfaction to me. But fuck, Pluto are great live. Oh well, I’m sure they’ll play an individual gig sometime soonish, and at least this way I wasn’t subjected to Chris Knox.

NEWSFLASH! Clay and BradC just got back, and apparently they met a friend of Jarrod’s from Wellington, and OH MY GOD it was the first boy I ever kissed who I was madly in love with for a very long time afterwards. Now I’m really bummed that I didn’t go.

Monday April 9th, 2001

My ISP is being a gimp. Gimp isp, gimp! I reckon Lou’s bosses should ensure that she has dsl at home, but apparently they have other priorities. Sheesh!

Today was all about working very hard scripting. That’s not computer scripting, oh no. Well, it kinda was, cos I had to format my CBT script so that it’ll work properly in Scala. Scala is dumb.

I listened to “My Body the Handgrenade” at work today, which is like a collection of b-sides and rarities by Hole, and it made so much more sense now after that biography of Courtney Love that I read. Listening to it, I felt like the BDO 99 was just yesterday, that somehow I managed to skip the past two years, which wouldn’t necessarily be such a bad thing, although I wouldn’t be who I am today. I feel very old – “Smells Like Teen Spirit” which is unquestionable the most important song to people in my generation came out TEN YEARS ago. TEN! Wow.

I’ve made an appointment to go and see Dr. White tomorrow and get my smear, and get a full STD screen (I don’t think I have anything, I just want to be 100% certain) and talk to her about my nutrition and stuff. Fun fun. Also today I’ve been coughing a dry shallow pathetic cough, so maybe she can see to that too.

Last night I traumatised Leigh by pasting bits out of a story I wrote when I was 15 to him – “Angela felt his hands slide up and down her back. She had to clutch at his shoulders, thinking of a line from Gone With the Wind – “Now I know why men put their arms around a woman when they kiss them; it’s so they don’t faint”. She was walking on air.” True story too. I just wrote it in the third person to get a new perspective, according to my diary at the time. Though what wisdom I’d learn from “Angela was leaning on him more and more. Then he spoke. “We’re lying on a flower pot,” he said regretfully” is beyond me. Still, five years from now, I’ll probably look back on what I’m writing these days and scoff.

Oh for fucks sake, how hard is it to get a line into the Net???

I feel good today because I just had a really nice long bath. I put my legs up in the air and fully submerged my head. I love the sound of being underwater. I also feel good cos I told Clay and Louise that I wanted to do separate food from them (and phrased it a little more diplomatically than “I’m tired of subsidising your animal products and your girlfriend”)

OH! I also got a pay cheque today, and that was very very nice.

AND! I was in Mt Eden for lunch, and I walked past one place after inspecting the menu, and this guy came out, and he was like “don’t you strut away from me” and I was thinking “sheesh, overboard waiter!” but it was my friend Derek, who I haven’t seen in like a year, so that was very cool. He was like “wow girl, look at you – whatever happened to the flower skirts?” which made me blush and smile. He’s doing advertising with Kate B this year, which means I can get her to slip him notes. Wahoo. And then when I was eating my lunch which was Malaysian noodles, Kate M rang me on my cellularmaphone and said she was in Mt Eden also, so we met up. She was a little scared and felt like she didn’t know what she was doing – I tried pointing out many times that it was only her first day.

The company I work for shouted morning tea for all 400 of us on campus today for going 100 days without an accident.

you see, the ting is…

Friday the 1st of January

Me, as sketched by Penny, January 1st, 1996. Ahhhhhhhhh Ben! NYE 98/99 was in no way as memorable.

Saturday the 12th of December

Saturday. This makes two weekend nights I’ve been home in a row. No wonder I’m depressed. EVERYONE is either busy tonight, or too tired to go out. Jen Troup told me to come to this d&b rave at the James Smith, but I don’t wanna go if I can’t go with anyone. Sigh. And there are like a thousand movies I wanna see and all, but yet I’m just sitting here at my computer. I’m really trying to finish off my Gathering story, but it’s hard. It was nearly a year ago after all, and it was just so… I dunno. Very intense.

I was in Tandys today, and I saw the Gathering cd and I just about cried. I so so so want to go this year, but I can’t afford to, and none of my friends or sisters are going. Besides, I figure it’s time I moved on. I mean, I’ve been to the Gathering two years in a row, and while both times were very different, they were still the same location. I should get some more experiences. In 95/96, I went to the party where I met Ben. That was just a regular couple of parties, and that turned out great, so I don’t NEED to be up on a hill to have a good time, do I? Besides, if I go to the Gathering this year, I’ll just spend the whole time thinking about Matt, which I don’t need to be doing. It’s funny cos I went to Nelson in 96/97 so that I wouldn’t be thinking about Ben, which is when I wound up going to the inagural Gathering. The next year I went back with my sisters and to meet Matt. And now I think that it’d be a good idea for me not to go, so that I can move on with my life. Jo said that I could hang with her, which’ll be choice, if I can just relax and actually get comfortable with strangers.

Today was her picnic in Civic Square, which was cool. She has so many friends man! Just like a butterfly flitting from flower to flower is Our Jo. I just felt a wee bit out of place, because I didn’t know anyone, and I was really tired and not at all chatty. But it was cool anyways, I still had fun. It’s just funny how seamlessly she blended in with MY friends. I guess some people are just more outgoing than others. I’m just not so comfortable in large groups. Or in any enviroment that’s not my own. For example, on chat, I’ll be like the queen bitch, and totally dominate, but pretty much only in #left or possibly #mirc – rooms that I’m used to. That’s okay though, cos I know I’m so much more outgoing than I used to be. I wish that ASIJ held a reunion in Wellington, or my Onslow friends came to Auckland. I’ve got this real need for revenge, or to like, prove that I’m better now. It’s kind of sick I guess. If I still have that need, maybe I’m not better. Fucking hell! I’m thinking too much. This is the problem with staying at home and being bored. I watched ‘To Die For’ with my parents, but that only took up like two hours. Now I’m talking to some guy called Mark from the Vision project, and I’ve sent him some of my short stories that are going to be used in collabarative efforts. The only problem is that ‘Frozen’, one of my favourites, and the one he wants to use, is the story that Justine stole, and had published on reckoning.net. Bitch. I mean, it’s weird cos I don’t know her at all except from hearing a few things about her from Simon, and from her webpage, but I feel like we could maybe have been friends if we’d met a different way. That doesn’t excuse her stealing my whole story concept and claiming as her own, without giving me an inspiration credit or anything. I hate being petty, but it really does bug me that she did that.

While I have all this time, I’ll tell you a wee little story that i was just thinking of while working in the Bakehouse yesterday. No, actually I won’t. This entry is long enough already, and not everything needs to come out on here.

Monday, November 16th – sort of

Okay, so I think that TECHNICALLY it’s still the 15th, but hey – by the time I’m finished
it’ll probably be the 16th. Oh who cares? It’s my journal and I can do what I want in it.

So yeah. Tonight I drove Shirley’s car to the shop – now THAT was interesting. Her
gearstick didn’t seem to be centred properly, so I fought with it for ages. And stalled
three times pulling out of my park. Then I got lost driving around the block, and had to
turn around in an area the size of a playing card. I hate manuals. I was on a mission to
buy chocolate – mission was a success, captain!

Shirley and I watched this cheesy show about NZ love songs, that was kind of lacking,
and Ardijah had no place on it. I liked the Exponents (Victoria) and Dave Dobbyn
(Loyal), Chirs Knox (Not Given Lightly – of course) and natch Bic Runga, but I dunno – it
could have done with Shihad or HLAH or the Headless Chickens. Yes they do lovesongs,
dammit! Thank god there was no mention of the feelers though!

Mmmmmm so do you know where this is leading you to? Yup, my very own list of
special love songs. These all bring a nochalant smile to my face when I hear them. There
are others – inncidental music and stuff, but these songs are just the esscence. Actually,
maybe I’ll mention others. And count the number of times the Smashing Pumpkins
feature!

1. ‘Don’t Cry’ by Guns’n Roses, age 12. This was my theme song for Ryan Rimschnider
in 7th grade. They used to play it at all the dances and it always made me cry. This was
the guy who, along with Lisa Gonser, was so cruel to me in English class that I started
composing suicide notes, thinking to get Revenge. Hey – I was twelve – colour me
dramatic. Then along came the video for ‘Jeremy’ by Pearl Jam. I thought “Hey, cool
idea” then realised I didn’t want to be a copycat.

2. ‘One’ by U2, age 13. This one is for Simon Darby, who I had on-and-off crushes on
during sixth-eighth grade. He’d had a crush on me in fifth grade, when I fiirst started at
ASIJ, and used to taunt me, pointing to NZ on maps going “homesick?”. I have to forgive
him though, cos he was into MC Hammer at the time – and even had 3 pairs of the pants
to prove it. In fifth grade I was lusting after Scott Pertel, who had long tanned legs and
three pairs of reebok pumps. He was going out with Heather Delany – my mortal enemy.
She was the most popular girl in the grade, and even at age eleven had…..shock horror….
BREASTS. I was in her homeroom in seventh grade, and she was actually really nice.
Simon was also in my homeroom that year, but I think I was too busy wanting Ryan -
who, coincidently, went out with Heather for a week that year. Annnnnnnyways, back to
Simon. He became my main squeeze in eighth grade, and was given the code name ‘BS’
by me and Beth, since his catch phrase was “BIG SMILE”. Beth asked him out once,
which devestated me, but he turned her down. She and he were the reasons I started on
the school BBS system – geek girl at age 13. Anyways, U2 were his favourite band and
‘One’ is probably their last good song since they’ve gone to shit now. I heard it the day
after I’d had a dream in which Simon hugged me and promised to stay friends forever, so
it’s just appropriate.

3. ‘Landslide’ covered by the Smashing Pumpkins, age 14. Like the second day of high
school, I was in the library looking for a monologue to audition for the fall play with. This
guy pointed me in the right direction, and I remember telling Beth on the phone that night,
since she’d transferred to a military base school by then, that I’d met a guy who was kind
of cute. I ended up with a tiny part in the play, while he scooped the major role, which
meant I got to know him a lot better. His name was Nuno Periera, and though he was
kind of short, I was fully smitten. I was also currently in love with Landslide at the time,
and I got inspired by the lyrics “I’m not afraid of changing” and “time makes you bolder”.
Finally, I got up the guts to get my friend Amy Macintire to tell him. Tragic, Tragic. He
said nothing to me, so I thought that was that. Then, on the last night of the play, this guy
called Luke Buckley goes to me “you know, Nuno really likes you, he’s just afraid to say
anything.” That totally crushed me. I know it wasn’t true so I had no idea why Luke
would be that horrible to me. I cried so much before the play that night, such the drama
queen even back then.

Then I moved back to New Zealand. Fifth form passed fairly uneventfully, guywise. I
had a tiny crush on a seventh former named Sam Pearson in my Japanese class, but
nothing major – until New Years Eve 95-96.

4. ‘By Starlight’ by the Smashing Pumpkins, age 15-16. This song is SO the story of me
and Ben Morell- a guy I fell in Love (yes, Love with a capital L, almost the whole deal)
with, although I was only with him for an hour, tops. He was my first good kiss, and my
first get with. I believed him when he said he’d call, and “By Starlight” was my music of
choice waiting up warm summer nights for the phone to ring. I was completly obsessed
with him for nearly the whole year. I stood right next to him at the Pumpkins concert, and
that’s how I realised I was in love with him – I couldn’t move or even talk, I was so
overwhelmed. I could feel him in my every pore. But of course, I didn’t talk to him then,
and since he went to St Pats, I never saw him. I just learnt all I could about him from
Dylan – which led me into trouble. Other Ben songs are ‘Breaking the Girl’ by RHCP cos
that’s when we started dancing, and ‘I Could Have Lied’ (ironic much?) also by the
RHCP, which was when he kissed me, smooth boy that he was. So I guess that ‘Suck My
Kiss’ should be included too, in the three song seduction. Fuck, he was SO the man, I
was completly swept off my feet and didn’t realise what he was up to until it was
happening. He only had two flaws as far as I’m concerned; a) he shouldn’t have lied – I
could have accepted it as just a NYE thing if he’d just been honest, and b) he was too
fixiated on my ass. He told Dylan things went ‘fast’. Oh reaaaaaaally?

5. ‘Set the Ray to Jerry’ by the Smashing Pumpkins. This song perfectly captures all the
frustrations I felt having fallen for Dylan – the boyfriend of one of my best friends. Of
course, I never told him, or her. ‘Set the Ray’ was my favourite song at the time (and it
probably still is), which is why it became HIS song. Other Dylan songs would be the
Counting Crows’ whole album August and Everything After, which I grew to love
because he did. His theme was ‘Rain King’, so we’d always play that at partys, and I;d
even dance to it, not afraid in front of him. He was and is so intuitive, and is still one of
my most favourite people in the world to talk to, because I can tell him anything. He’s
doing a journalism course too, so we have lots in common – I remember one conversation
I had with him about our editorial bond, in the morning after a party when we were both
cleaning in guilt – him for spilling Sarah’s secrets, and me for sleeping next to him, sharing
his pillow and feeling so close. Why did he have to be Sarah’s? They’re STILL going out
so that’s over four years now. I’ve lost touch with her – think it’d be okay for me to ring
him? He always used to taunt me by singing Hootie and the Blowfish, because he knew I
hated them. Singing ‘Hold my Hand’ and going “come on, Jo,” extending his hands out
was more of a taunt that he could guess.

Mmmm. So now comes the bit I’m hidi-ashamed of. Yes, that’s right…….. Internet
crushes. Sigh.

6. Any song by STP. Nick loves these guys and so the two are entwined in my mind. He
was like the first guy I started talking to on the net…. I can even give you the date -
Febuary 15th, 1997. Not, that’s not obsession – it was the saturday after my mother’s
birthday, which was when I started on IRC. Anyways, he was such a charmer, saying
stuff like “I’d climb mountains for you”. It was all cheese, but I took it too seriously,
viewing him as the flipside to Ben. One day I got really pissed off with him being a wank,
so I was like “You just don’t get it, do you? I’ve completely fallen for you”. He was
shocked and things were just a weeeeeee bit strained between us for a while. But now (I
think) we’ve moved past it, and are even better friends. Despite being like my earliest
virtual friend, he’s the only person on the internet that I talk to and like and haven’t met.
And I don’t want to meet him either. I don’t think he could match my expectations.

7. “Black Star” by Radiohead. I remember how I was raving on about this song to Mike,
going “it’s such a beautiful love song” when he goes “it’s about breaking up”. In different
ways, we were both right, just that we viewed things from totally different angles – which
is a good analogy for the way we related to each other. I started chatting to Mike when
the whole Nick thing was at its most cringeful, and we became pretty good friends – I
think. It’s sort of hard to tell with him. Because he was so good to talk to, I saw him as
another Dylan, and developed a slight crush on him. I was grooming and preparing him to
deal with all my secrets when he was told about the crush (thanks Amy) and blew things
waaaaaay out of proportion. Several emails got forwarded to me about the situation so I
wrote him one, which, to put it mildly, was rather not nice. To paraphrase his reaction to
it; “every second sentence was an attack on me – when you get a letter like that you have
to stop caring”. (My memory for detail always did scare him). I felt bad and wrote to
apologise to him but things were never really the same after – it was too fragile and I
thuink I just get too much of a kick out of headfucking with him. He can do it even better
than me though, but I’m not sure he does it intentionally. Out of the blue one night when
drunk, him and his friend came over to my house, and he was actually really nice in real
life. Such clean white teeth. He also came to my birthday party, but I think that was just
to mock. Then there was more trouble after that, involving a lass called Kim, so he gave
up IRC. I think that’s the third time I’ve helped inspire him to do that – maybe that’s just
vanity. If you’re reading this, Mike, cos I know that’s possible, let me know your side of
the story. The other song that lingers from the Mike Era is ‘Protection’ by Massive
Attack – I was the girl seeking shelter in a sympathetic ear.

8. ‘Cherry’ by the Smashing Pumpkins. It’s strange because for Matt, the only guy that
I’ve ever seriously Loved (Ben wasn’t all there), there really isn’t much of a definate song.
No wait, there are. He started to like me when we talked about the Pumpkins, so ‘Cherry’
suits the mood. Amy was teasing him before it really began about having a crush on me
and he was like “well, she likes the pumpkins….” – good reason, pal! One day we both
started singing it at the same time, an eeire coincidence we often had – he was convinced it
was a psychic bond. ‘Cherry’ strikes me as a sort of a cry for help, which is what Matt
seemed to do. I so so wanted to help him. He was always so down, so depressed and
lonely. I know I helped him build up his self esteem to the point where I almost wish I
hadn’t since it’s gone too far now. The line in the song “cos I can tell you once were
pretty” was like how he liked me, and saw more to me than others. Of course, he
shouldn’t have made that judgement over the net. Another song for Matt that’s more
situational is ‘Exit Music’ by Radiohead. This was playing the morning after my goodbye
party when I’d been up all night arguing with him, knowing full well that I was in love
with him and needed to tell him, even if he didn’t want to hear it cos he didn’t feel the
same way. This song caught my desperation and made me bawl. I cried all the way to the
end of the album while he slept in the adjoining room. Then I went to write him a letter
that spelled the beginning of the end. The first bit of the letter was the line “maybe she’s
just pieces of me you’ve never seen” from the Tori Amos song ‘Tear in Your Hand’. I
can just so relate to that heartbreaking song, wondering with Tori why the hell it couldn’t
just work out.

That was back in January, and I’m finally not in love or obsessed with Matt anymore. My
Current Infatuation hasn’t got a song yet. He’s got shit taste in music, and nothing really
strikes me as situational. Having a song is normally the way I tell if I’m serious about
someone, but oh well. I know that I feel seriously about CI Boi, but damned if I’m going
to re-live the Matt Hell again.

Fuck, this was waaaaaaay longer than it was meant to be, but that’s cool. I enjoyed
writing it, and i’m super proud of YOU for reading it all.

xoxox

Who will be next?

So I’m sitting in my Principles of Writing exam, and one of the topics for Narrative Writing is “Feeling Used”. Hmmmmmm…. have I ever had that feeling? No, surely not.

So yeah, obviously I wrote on that subject, but the piece completely and utterly sucked. No structure, no point, no flair. AND it turned into a piece of self analytical crap too, so I decided to do a new piece. What’s more appropriate as a scholarly subject- one night stands or acid trips? Anyways, since the “Feeling Used” bit turned into such a journal entry, I figured I’d include it here. Enjoy.

“You cannot push me against a wall and force me when my friend won’t put out
You cannot use me to build up your own self esteem then work to destroy mine
And You cannot have me if you only want me when you’re drunk”

That’s what my online journal from the 28th of October says anyway. The ‘You’ refers to three different guys, three different stages of life and three different kinds of pain, but there’s still the common thread. I was used. That’s kind of hard to accept because I tend to pride myself on how strong I am. I don’t know if the users would admit to the using. I never asked them, and only one of them is still in my life. I know one guy though, who did admit to just using me, and it’s his honesty and my realisation that I was doing exactly the same thing that meant I didn’t care…..

It was a cloudy night, at a typical teenage party. She’d drunk too much, cried too much and had crawled outside to be alone, away from the people who asked probing questions and laughed at her. She shrank down into the garden steps that she was sitting on when she heard him approaching, but relaxed when she realised he was a stranger. He sat next to her, offered a bag of potato chips, and told her she sounded like a dying cat.

Fabulous pick-up line, she thought, laughing.

They talked, chitchat, casual trivia, nothing important was said. His arm snaked around
her shoulders. She was fully aware of what was going on. The first time she’d got with a
guy, it had kind of sneaked up on her; sweet, young and innocent, she hadn’t realised he
was hitting on her until they were kissing. This time wasn’t like that, though. She was in
full control. How had she become so jaded and bitter? She was only seventeen, for
god’s sakes. She couldn’t be bothered talking to this guy anymore. If she wasn’t going
to be seeing him again, why take the time to learn his name and interests? Leaning over,
she stopped him mid sentence with a kiss.

The lawn was damp from the dew, raising a pleasent, earthy smell. Out of the corner of
her eye she could see the brightly lit house, and could hear the party continuing on
without her. All she could feel was his body touching hers, pushing her down into the
ground. There was nothing magical about him. He wasn’t even a very good kisser. But
he’d cheered her up, and it was a way to pass the time. Now what she wanted was
honesty, a confirmation that it meant nothing. She’d waited nearly a year for the first
guy to call her like he said he would, completly smitten with his memory. Whoever this
guy on the lawn was, she wasn’t going to go through that again.

Rolling over, she sat up imposingly, trapping him down. “You only came outside
because you knew I was drunk, didn’t you?” she demanded of him. “You knew I was
vunerable and you’re just using me”. He just laughed, so she repeated herself over and
over again until he nodded, guilty. Then it was her turn to laugh. “I don’t care,” she
said. And she didn’t. She admired him a lot for being honest – even if he was under
pressure.

When he left, he didn’t take her number. He didn’t even say goodbye. She smiled and
buttoned up her shirt. It was so liberating – he’d used her, but she’d used him right back.

I can still remember that feeling of liberation, the seperation of mind and body. I didn’t
mind the way he treated me, not because I don’t respect myself, but because that was the
way I treated him. Neither of us pretended it was anything more than a way to spend a
drunken hour. Is that the key then, the way to avoid feeling used? I’m not sure I want to
live my life that way, using others just to keep myself afloat. At the same time though, I
am sick of being used. I haven’t given in to the last guy in my journal entry, because I like
him too much to ruin it when we’re drunk. And I guess what it comes down to is that I
like myself too much as well. I’ve learnt a lot from all the guys mentioned, but enough’s
enough. I’m going to control the rest of my life and I won’t be used again.