Tag: blogs vs. journals


Robot-tusslin’

April 19th, 2007 — 10:03am

So apparently, unless you want to lie away for a significant part of the night listening to your stomach making noises similar to that of Homer’s when he took many a cannonball to the stomach in ‘Homerpalooza’ (one of my all-time favourite episodes), it’s not a good idea to swig most of the bottle of cherry-vanilla robotussin over the course of a day when it says “may have a laxative effect” on the label. Why didn’t my parents teach me this when I was growing up? But I had to have that much cough syrup. I had to leave a lecture on accountability in the public sector twice because I was coughing so much, and the second time I coughed so much that I puked. Fun times. That’s when I ran away to beg a chemist for the strongest thing she had. Now I have to find a new chemist to go to cos my bottle is pretty much empty and I only bought it yesterday and I wouldn’t want her to think I had a problem. Of course the good thing now is that since I missed most of the talk, I can’t possibly be held accountable for my actions. This means I can go to the Dub Pistols’ myspace page and listen to see if it’s their version of ‘Rapture’ that I heard and liked, right? Wrong. I’m not that much of a badass.

What are some other things that I wanted to write about? I had my first Creative Wednesday this week, but I was so sick that I decided to let myself sleep in until whenever I woke up, which was 1pm, and then I just sat on the couch coughing until Brad went and bought me vodka and fresh OJ. Before I got stuck in to making myself feel better though, I paid a visit to the new Ezibuy shop to get a shirt for the lovely Hadyn and stunning Martha to screenprint for our Bowling League. My other achievement as a project on Wednesday was in finally getting that all sorted out, via many mailings to our mailing list. As I said about my shirt to the list today: “It’s pink! And lowcut! So people will recognise me! All my sentences are going to end in exclamation marks today! I am high on cherry-vanilla robotussin!”. Heh.

But today I am not wearing a lowcut top because I also bought leggings which are so much less of a pain than tights, so I’m wearing my short pinstriped dress and boots instead. Hurrah! And my nails are bright bright green, which I’ve decided will be my new trademark thing. Hurrah nu rave! Heh. Oh my stars, why am I being so vapid? I really must add more bad influence websites to my list of things to give up for Matariki, since that’s coming up soon. Also my main Matariki resolution is to wake up with someone this year and not want them to run away ASAP. That’s what grown-ups do.

And on that note about grown-ups, the divine (and crazy for walking 100km) Kimberley asked me five questions, as part of a fad which all the cool kids are doing, so here they are with my answers.

How many nicknames do you have? What’s the story behind each one?

I don’t really have that many nicknames, apart from a thousand variations on Jo (Jo Burger, Jo Blo, Jo Jo Jo etc). Before I left high school, I tried to keep Jo in reserve only for my friends, so people I didn’t like had to call me Joanna, or my father if I was shitty with him, and so on and so forth, but then when I started working and leaving phone messages everywhere, it was easier to call myself Jo than Joanna because I don’t talk very clearly. I will still write Joanna if I’m doing anything where I can’t sign off “xojo”. When I went online in 1997, I called myself Astrid, so I had nicknames based on that – Strid, Striddy, and so on. Also in order to seperate me from the other one (no capital letters) I became known as Jo Hubris to match my domain. To me these days Jo Hubris is the fierce, brave and outgoing side of me, my super hero identity to Joanna McLeod’s Clark Kent, if you will. I am Jo Hubris when drunk, Joanna when sober. There’s also a Canadian who calls me Trouble but I’m not entirely sure why.

What is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do in your life? How did you feel afterwards?

Everything when it happens feels like the hardest thing EVAH (moving to Japan, moving to Auckland, that horrible drawn-out fucked up relationship and subsequent horrible drawn-out fucked up break up), but now I will say having Depression is the hardest thing ever, because once you’ve got to a place where you don’t want to be alive anymore having to claw your way back from that to not just a place where you’re surviving but where you’re actually thriving, well, I think that makes me pretty fucking awesome. And I say this as Jo Hubris, not Joanna, of course.

Have you ever forgotten to put on underpants?

How could you forget something like that? I’ve had to wear shortshorts instead of underpants at primary school when I ran out of clean ones, and once I left my skirt behind at a guy’s house when I ran away in the middle of the night (I had pants as well) cos I couldn’t find it in the dark and had to go back the next day to get it, but I’ve never forgotten to wear underpants, no. If it’s terribly terribly late in the laundry cycle, I might not be able to put on thunderpants though, despite having ten pairs…

Where/ with whom was the last kiss you had?
My last kiss would have been after the Great Blend in my bed, with the ginga who turned out to be an asshole (damn my weakness for English accents!). I don’t know if we’d actually kissed at Mighty Mighty, or in Cuba Mall or in the taxi before then or not. It was the hottest day of the year, we were sweaty (despite the late night swim) and bloody noisy. And I had the Killers on repeat because I couldn’t find any of my records (they were in the lounge).

I think that was my last kiss anyway. I do drink an awful lot.

What thing about yourself do you like the most?
I like that I am such a giving and accepting person. I can validate that statement too with things that others have said about me too. In fact, I spend a lot of time discussing it with my counsellor when I’ll be all “oh I am so selfish, I am so caught up in myself, I let my friend down this one time” and she’ll be all “so you let them down once and that means all the good things you do are wiped out?” and I’ll be all listing things and she’ll be like “hello, duh” and I’ll be like oh this is why I pay you, for that validation. Heh. No but seriously, I’m pretty confident that if you are someone I care about, I will accept anything about you, and I will do whatever I can to be there for you in whatever capacity you need me to be. And that’s awesome. Wahoo!

EDIT: Questions from the fiesty Miss Heather:

1. If you had the chance to wake up with a completely new personality, what would you be careful not to change?
I would make sure that my openness was still there – the way that I will accept people for who they are, the way I try to be completely honest with the way that I’m feeling, and my willingness to take on board new ideas.

2. Desperate for a shag, or frigid?

Seriously? Does this question even need to be asked? Did you not read the part above where I slept with a ginga? So to most people, I would be desperate. To a couple of poor lads who were around at the wrong times though, I suppose I may have appeared frigid.

3. On girls: greying, or dyed? Worst option for dyed? On boys: balding, or wig? Comb-over? Facial hair?

Greying or dyed is fine, but I’m not a fan of platinum blonde on most people. Balding is okay, but is best when shorn real short. I like to rub heads with short haircuts. Never a combover, generally never facial hair. A little stubble’s okay, unless you’re making out with it.

4. What do you think are the seven cardinal sins of blogging? Obviously this doesn’t apply to you, since you’re not a blogger.

Writing “Here’s a link and it’s funny”, and thinking that counts as content.
Apostrophe catastrophes.
Holding political views that are different than mine. Puppy-eaters.
Worshiping anyone that I don’t like.
Not writing about me as often as possible.
Refering to Hubris as a blog.
Constantly doing memes. Like we care.

5. What would the cover stories be on the first ever issue of your own magazine?

Ooooh, I adore this question, although I would have prefered you to say “will”, not wood.

Cover stories:
- The definitive guide to cocktails in Wellington
- How my website got me laid, paid and on display: an autobiography.
- Do get me started: a how-to for new media startups.

So if you want me to ask you five questions to answer, and you want them to be all probing and hip, comment or email me.

I don’t think I have any plans for this weekend. Someone make some for me?

xojo

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The Queen of Blogging

February 13th, 2007 — 9:10am

Apparently Russell doesn’t read Next. If he did, he’d know (because somehow apparently it’s easy to miss on Hubris, because it’s only like OH I DON’T KNOW, THE TITLE OF EVERY SINGLE FUCKING PAGE) that “Joanna McLeod doesn’t like the word ‘blog’”. In fact, that’s the first sentence of the piece, entitled ‘Blogging On’, on page 34 in the March issue. And then you can stare at the picture of me and reminisce about the time that the photographers came to my house instead of thinking about how my cheeks swallow my eyes when I smile. Must remember not to smile so hard. Which is easy to remember today since it’s Tuesday, and Tuesdays mean counselling day. But back to the article, I’m pretty sure that I told Danielle that I was one of the first people in New Zealand to write an online journal, not in the whole wide world ever, but Lani has the broadband cord right now, so I can’t check in my emails. But once I can, maybe I’ll post everything I said, so that I can pretend that it’s a whole article just about me, without any references to LonelyGirl15.

I can’t remember what else I wanted to write about. Things I talked about today included how worked up I got when we talked about the thing that I don’t like to talk about, and later when we talked about something else she was like “your hands seem to have calmed down now” and we laughed, which was important because of course I am still trying to keep her entertained, even if she doesn’t actually exist outside of that room, as she said. We talked about things that do or don’t define me, and my homework is to try and come up with a definition of myself(*). I told Lani that when I got home today and talked to her for way too long despite the soreness of my jaw (more about that later) and was like “Oh man, if only I could stand the word, because then I could be all “Joanna McLeod, Blogger”. Lani said she thought I was creative and inspiring because of the cake I made my mother and the story I wrote and illustrated to explain her present, and apaprently also because of the curry I made for Flat Dinner last night. Well, the curry’s not hugely creative, although it had cabbage in it for the first time ever, but the bathroom sure is clean and sparkling, as is the kitchen, and I bought a new shower curtain with gardenias on it. It’s clear, which is rad cos it lets in more light. And isn’t mouldy (and yes, I am still celebrating small achievements). When I showed it to Smoo he was like “well, I kind of wish you’d got one with dragons on it.” Smoo makes me laugh a lot. When I asked him what the proper ettiquite was when gentlemen callers have left their panties (okay, perhaps just underwear, but panties is so much more of a fun word, and wouldn’t it be amusing to think that I did someone who was wearing women’s underwear who wasn’t a woman? Yes) behind and you don’t think you will be seeing them again, he suggested starting a trophy wall. I could hang them between the pictures of STDs hanging on the lounge wall. Heh. What do YOU think the correct thing to do would be?

Anyways, today I felt bleh and also nauseous and then full of mysterious stomach pain, and then the buses didn’t happen, but finally I made it out to O’Bay, and had a swim with Karen out to the raft. Afterwards I sat dripping water on the decking and debated about whether to go home to my house like I really really wanted to do, or to go back to Karen’s to try on the dress she’s altering for me so that I have something to wear on Friday to the Tiki Tiki Party. The sewing won out in the end, via the supermarket so that we could have steak sandwiches with spinach pesto. I cooked the porterhouses rare, so they were succulent but soooooo chewy, and Karen made a mountain of super crunchy coleslaw, and so I chewed and chewed and chewed. Then when she was sewing, she told me to sing to her, trying to distract me from Q, and when I asked what, she said “Ten Green Bottles”. So I did. And she didbn’t ask me to stop, so I kept on going, for about 20 minutes. People should know not to have that kind of stand-off with me, because oh yes, I will be calling your bluff on that. So now both my jaw and my throat hurt. At least the muscle in the inside of my thigh has stopped aching, because man my sisters laughed at me as I limped around on Saturday. I told my parents it was a swimming injury, but it might actually have been a gym thing. Perhaps.

Fuck, I am exhausted. I had big ideas about what I wanted to write about, but mostly now I just want the cord so I can get online, post this and then lie down and vege. It’s 11pm already. Where did the time go?

Upcoming events: Craftwerk on Thursday, Tiki Tiki on Friday, Harvestbird on Saturday, then Fia’s birthday next Friday and Country Club: Australia on Saturday 24, not to mention Shirley and KateH both going to be in town next weekend. And then it’s Peti’s the week after and Bic Runga, and then two weeks after that we’re going to Martinborough and then it’s practically my birthday and Dead Rockstars, and then I must get out of town for New Year’s Eve…

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I’ve been looking so long at these pictures of me

December 30th, 2006 — 12:07pm

Right now I am getting my photo taken. Yes, RIGHT NOW. Actually that’s a lie.Technically speaking, right now they are roaming my house trying to decide where the best place to shoot me is. I’m sitting on my bed right now, but they’re worried that since I’m sitting down they lose all the things that makes my room unique to me. When I say “they” I mean Nicola Edmonds and her friend/assistant Adrian. So yes, it’s somewhat more than a snapshot, but there’s no makeup or racks of clothes or catering or records playing or interviewer from Q or Jane tagging along or any of the things that I will no doubt have one day. But I am having my photo taken by professionals for an article on blogging (yes, i know), which is quite nice. And also funny, because THIS IS NOT REAL! The Arch Hill poster in the background does not actually live there on my wall! And normally I have Xmas lights rolled around my bedhead, pretending like there could actually be an occasion in which I would need to light up my bed. And it’s funny because oooh, they have one of those big shiny silver things which is bouncing the light or something. I dunno. I will pretend for the next ten minutes that I am a Spice Girl. I think the martini that I had before they got here will help with that. Who knew that vermouth actually freezes? Not I. But it was like shaved ice in my gin. I made up for it with an exra olive.

I like that they are trying to get an essence of who I am in the photo (oooh, essence of Joanna, they should sell that in bottles. And then people could make cocktails with it and a lot of vodka. Although there would already be a lot of vodka in my essence, no doubt. Or apparently today gin). After overhearing debate in the dining room about whether or not the Xmas lights would be applicable if the photos come out in March (I should have pointed out that they’re somewhat of a permanent fixture, but nevermind) and perhaps a discussion about the interior of my house being somewhat younger than the magazine’s demographic – but I might have misheard – I ended up standing in my room in front of my Bic posters in most of the photos, carrying my laptop under my arm, one hand leaning on the cabinet that usually houses my record-player but today was historically unaccurately cleared of clutter and dust, and the other with my thumb hooked into the pocket of my dress. I have taken some self portraits before they arrived, so here you can see an approximation of what I looked like:

I'm starting with the man in the mirror

I'm asking him to change his ways

And no message could have been any clearer

I’m hoping of course that her photos will actually have proper light in them, or it will turn out that the shiny silver disc was all for nothing! They were kind and said that I was pretty much the only person all year to actually want to have my photo taken, and when they said I was photogenic I said “well that’s why I don’t mind having my photo taken” instead of just saying “thank you” and blushing. Thanks Martini! Perhaps it will be a new New Year’s Resolutions to take compliments and run with them. Or perhaps I should pass a resolution to not come across as so hubristic to people I’ve just met who might not know that I am making fun of myself. But I’m not sure I’ve got the votes to get that through congress, let alone the senate.

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Shirley the blended pirate

July 1st, 2006 — 2:50am

So you know how I said that I’d try to update every day this week? Well, okay, so I’ve royally sucked at that. But it’s not my fault! Anji blew up my computer on Tuesday night when she was over to watch The Amazing Race so I couldn’t. So that’s what I’ll be doing this weekend – trying to track down my warranty and a place to take my computer to, which hopefully won’t involve driving out to Johnsonville where I originally bought the computer.

  • Shirley
  • The Great Blend
  • Pirates!


    Shirley


    On Wednesday I got a text from Shirley going “come and meet me at this bar after work” and I was like but you’re in Auckland, so you are crazy, and then I remembered that oh actually, on my calendar in Outlook and on myspace I had “Shirley in Welly”, so I went on down to Vivo. It was very warm and pretty inside, and they poured me a glass of Pegasus Bay Cab Merlot into a veritable bucket of a vessel. Then the bottle was finished, and I said I would buy another one, having looked at the menu for wines by the glass online, which seemed quite reasonably priced, and then I read the wine list for bottles, and it took an awfully long time to find anything for under $70. It made me laugh that they were playing the Wu Tang Clan when there were $600 bottles on the menu – and it wasn’t Cristal either. Shirley’s identical twin’s partner was celebrating his 36th birthday, and there were lots of people in suits there, so I felt a little out of place. Ordering what I suppose would be the equivilent of Bernadino – the $36 Pemberton Flybrook Shiraz would have made me feel stink except that I wasn’t getting paid until the next day, and honestly, $51 for the Pegasus? Insane. But after a couple of glasses, I hit the chatty stage, and tried to restrain myself from talking too much bullshit to people. Eventually Shirley said that we were allowed to bail, and so we went to Harem for mountains of meat and cheaper wine, and talked and talked and talked. I’d sent Shirley a copy of 101 Stories and she wanted to talk to me about that, and at one stage she was like “It’s not all Thomass is it?” and I laughed so hard I nearly fell off my chair. No, it’s really really not. And then I told her stories about how people from it who were long gone have shown up again, and that’s weird and confusing. And we also talked about rejections and pashes and work and home and friends and everything and everything. She said that I was a great pash. Haha. After Harem I took her to Good Luck, where apparently Denzel Washington and Peter Jackson were enjoying a $500 bottle of wine, but we didn’t see them. We enjoyed $7 caipas though, before she insisted on calling it a night.


    Blended


    Last night, I went to The Great Blend with Lisa, which meant that after we watched Star Lords I could say to her “well sure he can cut up movies, but what’s he like with MS Paint?” and I laughed. As I said on the Wellingtonista list, a lot of the presentation seemed to boil down to “so apparently there’s this thing called the Internet, and oh my stars, the kids are using it”. That’s me being snide, but you must remember that I got into the whole online journal thing from reading Tori Amos fan sites and their related journals, so the idea of healthy/unhealthy online communities etc is not really any kind of new thing – I am after all like totally tangata whenua. Plus as I’ve already snickered about on the Wellingtonista mailing list, dannah was talking about the importance of the ‘Top 8′ for the kids, and in between whispering in Lisa’s ear that I’d cut her if she ever took me off her top 8, I was like ‘but you can have a top 24 now….”. And I shook my head a little about the lack of capital letters in dannah’s slides, but that is actually my job (please note that my job does not include checking spelling ever. Honest.), so I can’t help the analness. I was playing a drinking game with myself, taking a large gulp any time anyone said the ‘B’ word, but it was like how people can turn my Creedstance into aerobics, the frequency of it. And beer made me need to pee. I was disappointed that there was no vodka on offer, despite mention of 42 Below sponsorship, because the large amount of beer that I had made me need to pee an awful lot.

    But enough with the criticisms. Dannah was an articulate and interesting speaker, and I was also impressed by Sam Morgan. And I learnt that rural America has a crystal meth problem, how totally Carterton of them! It was nice to see many of the Wellingtonistas out and about, and to try out our secret handshake, and a drunken Martha is always a good time, even if I did catch myself referring to her as Wanda. How embarrassment. And the Boatshed was gorgeous. Lisa told me that I was being that girl when Bunnies on Ponies were playing, as I was a bit loud by that stage given how few people were left. And I was a badass and whispered my way through a lot of the presentation. Honestly, you can’t take me anywhere. I was going to introduce myself to Russell, but then the band were playing, and while I will talk through dreadful movies about sinking boats, I don’t talk during bands because that’s what people who have a special circle of hell reserved for them do.

    Pirates!

    I sent out this email to some people today and also to the Country Club members on myspace (ha ha, myspace):

    Ahoy me hearrrrrrrrties!
    Set your ship’s course to sail to Hataitai next Saturday July 8 for the very special Caribbean at the Country Club: The Pirates Edition.

    Drinking of RUM and GROG will begin at 2pm, with the pirate fleeting taking off at 3pm to search for booty at the mythical Pirate’s Cove Mini Golf. After that, there’ll be more bucaneering hijinks, booty and drinking back in Hataitai. (While the sun always shines on pirates, if a hurrrricane stirrs up, the wet weather plan is to go see Pirates of the Caribbean 2. While dressed up. And drunk. Naturally.)

    To make sure that everyone can be accounted for and gets a seat in the long boats, please RSVP by Wednesday. Also if you’re for some unknown reason planning on drivin’ instead’o drinkin, and you could ferry people about too, let me know cos that would be arrrrrrrrrrrrrrsome.

    Prizes will be awarded for the best pirate costume, and as this is a Country Club event, you’ll need to learn a fact about either pirates or the Caribbean to share with the group. And bring GROG. If you don’t like rum, might I suggest pirate beer?

    There’s no excuse for missing this great piratical rumbustification, unless you’re a layabout landlubber who should be made to walk the plank.

    You’re invited.

    Oh, and just another whinge before I sign off: we went to One Red Dog for lunch today for a goodbye thingie for the last remaining person under 30 who isn’t me, and holy fucking shit that place is shit. Terrible service, drafty interior and incredibly mediocre food. $24 for some pasta and a glass of wine? Bullllllllshit.

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    Giving it up for the interweb

    June 16th, 2006 — 10:39am

    Since I managed to achieve my New Year’s Resolution (or rather, sat fairly passively in a chair while someone else achieved it for me, I suppose), I decided it was time to make a resolution for Matariki too. To this end, I’m going to stop reading the blogs of people I despise. Yes, that’s right, I said the b word. That’s a sign of my disgust at my reading list. I do not need to read about some kitten-eating wanker who posts fairly moderate thoughts but knows full well that his rabid lunatic fringe commentors will take the argument to a much nastier place. I do not need to read about some kitten-eating woman in Hong Kong who thinks that money can buy all and that girl power lies in fucking other women’s husbands (oh shut up), when she’s actually totally transparent. I do not need to read about some stupid little girl in Auckland who thinks Carrie Bradshaw is an inspiration, that Louis Vuitton is like, totally awesome and important, and that proper payment for blow jobs is something expensive, not reciprocal head. Really I don’t.

    In the good world of the Internet however, I had lunch with the Wellingtonista crew on Wednesday, and that was very rad. It’s nice to go out with different people so that you don’t keep having the same conversations about tentacle porn over and over again. Not that there’s anything wrong with tentacle porn, of course, but it’s good to challenge myself to try and remember social graces, and how to not punctuate every single thing I say with an in-joke, and how to try and talk about things that everyone can relate to. That said, Martha provided the smut to the conversation, and I was like “hey! that’s what I bring!” in my head. But not in the angry HULK BASH CRASH SMASH kind of anger that other conversations in my head had me having last week.

    It’s funny because I can compare myself to the Hulk now, and decide to laugh at myself, but at the time I was biting my arm in the bathroom at Tupelo and then making myself throw up in order to try and get back some sense of control over my life. I spent the rest of the weekend and Monday crying on and off, knowing that it’d take a couple of days to work through the down patch, and that it was truly out of control. I’ve written a lot more about this in my head, but I’m ditching it because it’s too exhausting. Suffice to say I need to find a counsellor again if I’m going to continue to function without pills. My manager at work gave me a list of names (best way to start the week: cry in your weekly catchup at 10am), but meeeeeeeeeeeeeeh, it’s arduous. And besides, now I am up again, and don’t want to think about being down.

    Today I am aching from doing yoga stretching instead of cardio yesterday because I just wasn’t feeling it, and also all the project managers and I ordered in pizza from Pomodoro for lunch cos no one wanted to go out in the rain, but I’m still full of love for the high of exercise. Do you know what I did on Wednesday night? I RAN. Sprinted even! Sure, it was only for half a block, but Anji said because she was with her workmate-who-is-stalking-me that I wrote a blog so I went to hit her, and she said “I can run much faster and for longer than you” and took off, so I took off after her, even in the cold-makes-breathing-harder air, and she stopped before I did, and I punched her in the shoulder and felt like I could have run further. And that’s quite exciting. And we saw Take the Lead which wasn’t nearly as bad as I had expected it to be, although Karen and I sniggered the whole way through at the dialogue and there were points where I was like “holy crap I need some more sake” cos we’d just had dinner at Kazu, but Antonio Bad-ass was very charming, and the dancing itself was awesome. Now I want some high heels and someone to dance with. Will I sound too Oedipully if I say that I’m rather looking forward to dancing with my father at his birthday party next weekend? It’s just that boys so seldom take the lead. Unless they’re Brad’s tutor from the prom, of course, who I was totally in love with for the duration of our dance.

    And on the birthday note, it’s mine tomorrow. Please everyone, keep your legs crossed for me that I will not be spending the day on an IV drip with people poking at my vagina. Some vagina pokage would be acceptable, providing that it’s only carried out by a limited number of people, and if none of them have South African accents. You may also shower me with presents, if you choose to.

    But the BEST PRESENT OF ALL is that my current favourite band whose name I won’t utter until I have the tickets in my hot little hands are going to be playing in Auckland on July 12, and I’m going! I’d originally planned to fly up on the 14th for the weekend, but now I will be in town from Wednesday through til Sunday. I would like to hang out with you while I am there, okay? So let’s hang.

    I actually can’t think of much else that I wanted to say. I posted a recipe for Lemon Pie, and also the linear notes from my NZM Mixtape Compilation. I need someone to watch soccer with. Shirley left a squeeing message on my answerphone when she received the CD I sent her that contains The Garland Gang CD ROM, The Sound of Garland mixtape in mp3 form (I had to listen to Creed in order to make it, but rest assured that I had my fist and knee up the whole time), a bunch of photos and a copy of the newly digitised Garland tape. I also sent her a copy of 101 Stories. The weather is poos. My boots are awesome. My tummy is full. I haven’t had a period since early April. Maybe my tummy is full of Messiah Baby. Foetal Alcohol Syndromed Messiah Baby.

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    What really happened Next

    February 14th, 2006 — 7:37am

    In honour of everyone at my work now knowing about my journal (dammit, although given that I’m number one on Google I always sort of expected this), here’s what I told the journalist via email.

    Hi Danielle,

    Please find below answers to your questions – I’m sure I will talk at
    length, but if I haven’t explained myself very well at any stage,
    please let me know.

    There may be a lot of questions but please note, that most are just to help me set you up in my mind and provide background. I would also need to know your full name, age, occupation and where you live. That’s to provide background to the reader, and helps to introduce you into the article.

    My full name is Joanna Tiare McLeod, and online I am known as Jo,
    Joanna and Jo Hubris (there was another girl for a long time who moved
    in the same circles called Joanna, and so we were differentiated from
    each other by our domain names – she was Jo Starla. She doesn’t exist
    any more though). I am 26 years old, I work doing communications for a
    government agency (I work for * which is part of the ministry of
    *, but I’d rather not specify if that’s okay – it keeps
    things a little simpler with our incredibly long Code of Conduct), and
    I’ve had an online journal for the past eight and a bit years.

    SO what I want to ask is first, WHY the online journal?

    An online journal to me is the virtual equivalent of a piece of paper and a pen – it’s about writing about yourself and being inward-looking. Blogs meanwhile are more outward-looking – too often they come across like “here’s a link and it’s funny” and that’s about the extent of their content. I’m not interested in doing that. I write because I would like to think that I am pretty good at stringing words together, and because I like to tell stories. A blog is usually about one particular subject, like politics or food or architecture (or at
    least the good ones are), wheras online journals are a record of one person’s existence.

    When I started my website in 1997, the word ‘blog’ didn’t exist. Back then as well as walking five miles to school barefoot in the snow, most web pages were done either in special programmes or hand-coded in HTML, and then uploaded onto the internet. There was none of this fill in a box and click tomfoolery that there is now, so people who had webpages had to be more dedicated and in to what they were doing than people who use things like blogger and myspace these days. I think in a way that meant content was a lot better. As a whole, people put more thought into it, and because it was so much more effort to get things
    online, people were more likely to stick with it. This will sound incredibly stuck up, and please be aware that I am mocking myself here, but when blogging came along, and the media jumped all over it, it was kind of like I’d been doing all these great complex oil paintings and then all of a sudden people were like “woah, check out these awesome paint-by-numbers kits that people are doing!”.

    I know a couple of people from New Zealand like Robyn from secret-passage.com and Annette (who’s now at nutandbee.com) and we were all doing the online journal and heavy content thing back in 1998 when there was like no one else in NZ doing it, and so we like to call ourselves the tangata whenua of the interweb. I can’t help but feel like I should get special recognition for doing it for so long. Man I got shitty when Bizgirl won a netguide award when SHE’S NOT EVEN REAL. Well, not that shitty, because James Guthrie is a friend of mine, but still…

    What do you get out of it?

    There used to be a lot of people who would write disclaimers on their pages things like “I keep this journal for me, and me only so if you don’t like it you can go away”, but that always struck me as being kind of silly, because if you didn’t want someone to read what you were writing, why would you put it out in the public forum? For me, I love having the audience. I think it pushes me to try to write better, to try and include more interesting stories and therefore even a little bit to try and live a more interesting life so that I have more
    interesting things to write about. Knowing that I have an expecting
    public (haha, oh, that sounds so wanky) gives me good motivation to
    make sure that I continue to update my site, rather than just let it
    slide like so many other projects I start without finishing. Hubris
    serves as a useful place to let out my feelings when I am angry about
    things, a platform for my opinions when I want other people to hear me
    and also a place to build a sense of community in a way, so that if
    there are ever people who find themselves going through things that I
    have been through who come across the site might not feel so alone.
    Which sounds very altruistic, but there’s something very cathartic
    about writing about crappy stuff, even if it’s just in semi-coded
    vague references.

    It also means I can keep a record of more mundane things like books
    I’ve read, movies I’ve seen, places I’ve eaten and when I get my periods. Looking back over journal entries is an awesome way to track moods and mental health, and also to see how far I’ve come in many ways.

    Do you look at it as a place to express your thoughts, political views, worldwide views, talk about your life, your day or to vent?

    All of the above. Hubris is full of pretty vapid empty crap sometimes,
    like a big pile of whatever my catchphrase of the day is (“The Gilmore Girls are so hot right now”), and fairly mundane descriptions
    of my day, while my locked down footnotes are where I vent. I have
    political views that I think come through in my writing – I don’t
    think anyone could read more than one entry and think that I was
    right-wing, but I really don’t want to be seen a “political blogger”
    because I’m just not that interested in the details. You’re much more
    likely to find fairly broad statements about living as a decent human
    being from me, or stuff like “so Don Brash has had sex with at least
    three women? Really? Ewww”.

    And I will bitch and moan about the state of the media or the state of
    the world, but usually only about things related to me.

    What made you start?

    When I used to write a paper journal, I used to get a little frustrated thinking that I’d be the only person who ever read it. I wrote sometimes with an audience in mind, and would occasionally read (fairly censored) parts of it out loud to my friends.

    I first came across online journals in 1998, when I was really into
    Tori Amos, so I used to go to a lot of her fan sites, which were
    mostly run by angsty American teenage girls who used to keep online
    journals that were written in tiny little 8 point verdana font, and I
    just really related to what they were doing. They had an outpost for
    their thoughts and rantings, and an audience, and through their
    guestbooks, they built a sense of community. I didn’t think I was as
    angsty, or as obsessed with Tori Amos, and I didn’t like their sort of
    competitive nature – it seemed like in order to be cool you had to be
    on six different kinds of medication, cut yourself and have a
    borderline eating disorder or a history of sexual abuse, but I could
    relate to many of the things that others would write about – a sense
    of alienation from your peers, and a yearning to be a writer, or just
    to stand out, and so I started keeping an online journal too.

    What made you carry on?

    I enjoy doing it, and I love being able to look back on things. I’m
    gutted that there are chunks of my life that are not as well
    documented (like having the ihug hacker delete July-Nov ’98) or when I
    was just too depressed to be able to write at all, but I am grateful
    that there is this record, because basically all I really want to do
    with my life is become famous enough that I can get an autobiography
    published. Hehe. There’s a reason I had to use Hubris as a name…

    But on a slightly less hubristic note, I’m full of regret that I never
    got to hear enough stories about my grandparents’ lives. They left
    behind some stories written down, but they’re handwritten, and on my
    mother’s side they’re in Dutch, so I can’t really read them. I want to
    make sure that there is some record of my life for my grandkids that
    they can easily access, if they want it. I really admire what Heather
    from dooce.com is doing for her daughter in that way, although I find
    it kind of weird that I know more about what it’s like for this
    complete stranger I’ve never even emailed to be raising a daughter
    than my own mother’s experiences. That’s something I should work on.

    Now that you are into it, do you think you will still be doing it a year from now? Two years?

    Having been doing it nonstop for the past eight years, I have no doubt
    that I’ll always be keeping an online journal of some sort.

    Did you write a diary as a child/teenager/adult?

    Yep. It was all descriptions of “she said ‘blah blah blah’ at school,
    and pinings for the first boy I pashed. Hubris is pretty much no
    different.

    Is is something you gave a lot of thought to before starting or a spur of the moment thing?

    I had wanted to start keeping an online journal for a while, but I
    didn’t really give much thought to what I actually wanted to write in
    it until I got going. Content has therefore evolved over time.

    What do you write about?

    I write about my day, parties I’ve had, injokes that are hilarious to
    me and maybe two other readers, tasty food I’ve written, hatred of
    people who talk at gigs, reviews of stuff, and I also post writing
    that I’ve done for publication elsewhere.

    Do you know who reads it? Do you have some sort of mechanism to find out who reads it?

    I’m lucky with Hubris in that it’s a customised system my friend built
    for me, so I can track everyone’s IP address, and also people can have
    their own logins to the page which means every time they visit and
    they’re logged in, it keeps a record. People can get themselves to
    Level One, which is what some entries are locked to, but I have to
    chose to bump them up to Level Two which is what my footnotes page is,
    and any kind of rant about things that make me unhappy which shouldn’t
    be talked about in public (like work issues), or things that I am
    currently squeeing over – like crushes on people. I can actually put
    in more levels too, so I can choose what information what people see.
    Mostly level two membership just goes to people who I know really well
    (online or in real life) or people who actively contribute to the
    Hubris community – and by that I mean leave me comments, because of
    course as an attention seeker, it’s all about the feedback.

    Do you care? How careful about personal info on it are you? Do you include details about other people in your life?

    Hubris is the number one result on google for a search on Joanna
    Mcleod, so I write on the basis that anything I write can be read by
    anyone – although as I mentioned above, I do have some security
    measures but I’m aware if someone was dedicated enough they could hack
    me. In the olden days before google, I used to use people’s full names
    when I wrote mean things about them, and use my friends’ full names
    and so forth, but I am much more aware of self-googling now so I don’t
    do that so much. My restraint also includes never mentioning who I
    work for (I don’t want to get dooced!) and trying not to give away too
    much information about other people’s crap. One of my friends last
    year made me remove every occurence of her name on the site because
    she found her parents searching for her and therefore didn’t want her
    name associated with drinking and drugs. Many years ago the first
    time I went to bed with a certain boy in the morning he was like “this
    isn’t going in your journal, is it?” – well that particular incident
    didn’t go in, but I’ve said some very non complimentary things about
    him since then, and him being a little drama queen, he’s done the
    whole “lawyers, defamation, blah blah” speil. But funnily enough the
    only legal letter I’ve had in regards to my website was regarding my
    improper use of the word Sellotape (r) without using the registered
    trademark symbol. Laaaaame.

    Have other people, complete strangers (Like me!) been in touch?

    Yes, many many many. In 1999, my friend and I used to have a thing
    called The Breast Club, where we made scans of our chests in our bras,
    and put them online and encouraged random people to send in theirs,
    and so I met lots of people through that. Another time someone wrote
    to me and said that since they read my site every day and it made them
    happy they really wanted to send me a 21st birthday present.

    Have you made new friends from it?

    More than I can count – oh I’m so popular. Heh. But no, internet
    friends are easy to make – you swap “i like your site” emails – well,
    in the olden days you did, nowadays you comment instead, usually, and
    that can progress to instant messaging, and then maybe you meet in
    real life, and it’s all hunky dory.

    Sometimes I meet (online and/or in real life) people through them
    coming to my site – getting links from publicaddress.net brings them
    in – and sometimes I meet them through contacting them on their sites,
    or on forums, and then they come to my site to find out more about me.
    It’s a way of demonstrating common interests or feelings, I suppose,
    like joining a book club or a sports team might be in the real world.

    Do you pay particular attention to what you write should someone you do care about it read it? Like your mum?

    I do find myself censoring myself more than I’d like to sometimes
    knowing that my friends read the site – sometimes I’d just like to
    have a bit of a vent about a particular person without having
    repercussions about it, but there are ways and means to get around
    that, with different levels, or secret journals that others don’t know
    about that.

    I asked my parents not to read my site, although my dad did but I
    think he was more embarrased about it than I was. I don’t have a lot
    of boundaries anyway, so I’d like to think that the person I am online
    is the person I am if you talk to me in real life – I don’t have that
    much to hide.

    Do you expect your family/friends to read it?

    I’d actually kind of rather than my family didn’t read it, because
    who’s more fun to bitch about than family? No one. And I feel
    differently about different friends reading my site – I mean, when
    it’s people I met online to begin with, that seems perfectly natural,
    but the juxtaposition of my real life friends being in my online world
    can be odd (and I know that contradicts my statement of being the same
    in both worlds). If I’m away, or if my friends are away, I might cut’n
    paste from my journal into emails to save telling hte same story over
    and over again.

    And if you do, do you feel offended if they haven’t?

    If they’re not regular readers of my site, I don’t feel offended if
    they don’t read it, but if they’re supposed to be regular readers and
    I’m talking to them and they’re like “what? when did you do that?”
    I’ll be all “DIDN’T YOU READ MY JOURNAL?” mock angry. But seriously, I
    know that my journal can be a higher level of self disclosure than
    some people might be comfortable reading (case in point: my review of
    the Dimmer gig that was just sex sex sex).

    But I would like to think that everyone wants to stalk me and know
    every single detail about me ever.

    Do you read other online journals or blogs?

    Yeah there’s about 70 that I read religiously. Thank god for
    Livejournal friends lists and RSS feeds, otherwise I’d be surfing all
    the time.

    Do you have a favourite? WHy?

    One of my current favourite sites is what I’d call a blog if I didn’t
    cringe at that word so much – it’s http://wellurban.blogspot.com. Tom Beard who writes it is passionate about Wellington, and he takes the time to
    read council submissions and all those things I’d never bother doing,
    and provides handy summaries, and he always finds new bars, shops and
    restaurants for me to try.

    I also love www.dooce.com because Heather writes in an easy, funny
    way, but she also writes in great detail about her struggles with her
    mental health, and she’s just an inspiration, even though that’s a
    cheesey-as-fuck word to use.

    and I love my friends’ sites because I like catching up with their
    lives. And I like it when they write about me, of course.

    Do you expect your online journal to take on a particular direction in the future that you haven’t yet established or are thinking about?

    I want to write more stories about things that I did in the past -
    like the Lost in Translation entry I wrote recently about moving to
    Japan. I want to start writing my autobiography (yes I know, I’m 26,
    I’m not that interesting and I haven’t really achieved anything, again
    with the hubris), and so that’s what I’m keen to do.

    How many times a week do you write in?

    I used to write every day, but I also used to have a huge list of
    people I could only talk to online that I’d spend hours chatting to
    and write at the same time. I also used to be a student who didn’t
    have bung wrists, so now I only update a couple of times a week. I
    wish I wrote more.

    For how long?

    Entries take about an hour to write – more if there are pictures and
    many links, but that’s an hour of much surfing at the same time.

    Would you say this takes up a lot of your time? Does reading other blogs take up a lot of your time?

    Yeah it does. But that’s okay.

    Before email, were you big on writing letters? Or still are?

    Only when I lived overseas. Now I wish I kept the letters I used to write.

    Are you personal friends bloggers/online journalist or website owners? Family members?

    I’ve always had online friends who were journallers (not journalists -
    that’s like, media. Although I am trained in that too), and now it’s
    weird, I have a group of friends who are so not into computers but
    because of goddam myspace they’ve started keeping blogs. And boy are
    they ugly…

    What do they think of your new hobby?

    Eight years isn’t a new thing. People used to think I was weird, but I
    suppose at least the one thing I can thank the word ‘blog’ for is that
    it’s mainstreamed me. Hang on, do I really want to be mainstream?

    And do you consider it a hobby or something else entirely?

    My job is writing website content, so writing online hones my job. And
    one day I’d love to write a novel – or an autobiography, so maybe it’s
    research for that. I just want to have a legacy, even if it’s a “I
    watched Buffy all day and then laughed at some emos and got drunk”
    legacy.

    Ummm, sorry about the novella-length answers, I hope this helps!

    Jo

    Comment » | Journal, Published Elsewhere

    Twenty Things

    October 25th, 2005 — 2:26am

    I don’t normally do this kind of thing on Hubris, but hell, at least it’s all about me…

    1. Everyone (who’s anyone) uses the phrase “jumped the shark” about TV shows, or sometimes bands, or just celebrities in general (for example “Milan totally jumped the shark when he let that groupie wear his hat right in front of me”). I’ve started to use it to describe friendships. Not cool.

    2. I have seven sets of duvet covers (yellow, pink with gold, magenta & purple, brown & red retro, blue undersea, burgandy oriental brocade and brand new silver brocade) but only two sets of sheets – black and lime green, and four single duvet covers, including my New Mexico-ish Ralph Lauren cover that I got when I first moved to Japan, which we had to specially order and cost like $400 (shoosh. We paid $150 for an Xmas tree once…)

    3. I have real problems with trust and jealousy – and given my background, I’m really not surprised.

    4. The reason I hate being called a blogger is because I’ve been doing this for EIGHT FUCKING YEARS motherfuckers, when that word wasn’t even a glint in anyone’s eye, and why the fuck do all these newbie people get the attention and book deals and why aren’t I famous yet?

    5. I made Anji and Sebastian worm themselves this weekend right along with me. My next guess is that I have haemarroids. Of course my reason for thinking this has absolutely nothing to do with an advertorial in the local rag of course…

    6. I’d really like to have a cock to fuck Jessica Simpson with. This is not a “lesbian sex doesn’t count compared to hetrosexual sex” blah blah blah crap, it’s just that dude, she’s so horrible but there’s something about her that makes me want to fuck her ass and mouth.

    7. I no longer talk to anyone I’ve had sex with (this would probably be an advantage if I fucked Jessica). There’s only a couple of people on that list that I wish were still in my life. Others I miss when I think of jokes that only they would get.

    8. I am secretly impressed with how much pus I can squeeze out of my various pimples and assorted other bumps.

    9. I am terrified of people liking my online persona and then meeting me in real life and going “wow, she’s just not real at all” and disliking me.

    10. Often I think that I will spend the rest of my life without ever hearing anyone say that they love me again.

    11. I find the idea of being a housewife in the 1950s strangely appealing.

    12. Half the reason that I want to be a music writer is that I have a fantasy of having a musician fall head over heels in love with me and write songs about me.

    13. There’s this one song on this one CD by this one guy that makes me go huh, but I’d be too scared to lose it if I did ever find out that it wasn’t actually about me.

    14. If I had an infinite amount of money to spend on a car, I like to think that I’d still just buy something like a prius. Or maybe an oldskool convertible. But definitely nothing too ridiculously expensive and/or evil.

    15. If I was cloned, I’d probably be friends with me, but I might think that I was too needy and/or insecure. I’d probably have sex with me though, if I got myself drunk and came on to me first.

    16. I feel like I have a decent enough grasp of the English language that I don’t feel bad about twisting it to better suit my purposes.

    17. When I was under five or so, whenever I counted to 20, I would generally forget the number 17. Spazz.

    18. I can’t get a credit card for another four years because I didn’t pay my car registration fee.

    19. I often prefer Latinish type beers, like Amarca, Corona and San Miguel, but I’ll drink pretty much any kind, except for Lion Red.

    20. I plan a lot of funerals in my head – not just mine, but those of an assortment of people I know. I think about what I’d wear, what I’d say in the eulogy, what we’d serve at the wake and how I’d spend my inheritance.

    Comment » | Journal

    You weren’t much of a muse, but I wasn’t much of a poet

    July 5th, 2005 — 4:46am

    Hi! I’m back from Rarotonga. Here are some things I have to tell you:

    1. If you’re interested, you can find the start of Penny and Kevin’s relationship covered in New Idea this week (with the “Charlotte Fights to Live” cover which unfortunately isn’t about Dawson). They’re on page 32 34. The article is called ‘Chamber of Love’. The reporter and her mother were at the wedding to cover it. I will write about it later when I have my photos downloaded. Suffice to say, it was beautiful and wonderful and awww.

    2. In theory, I should call her “Hoyle” instead of “Penny” now, but then again, I never called her “Penney” anyways, so why change?

    3. It rained every single day in Rarotonga and didn’t go over 20 degrees. I still had fun.

    4. I just bought my ticket to Shihad for Saturday. I thought they were in a couple of weeks time. I’m bummed that Dave can’t go because introducing English people to Shihad is top of my list of favourite things to do. Nevertheless, I have been listening to the one Die! Die! Die! track that I have on the server lots today because it is really great. I didn’t like them so much in Martina’s ridiculously crowded apartment, but I am digging them now.

    5. Speaking of that party, I really must text back my old Volcanic flatmate Dan who is apparently in Wellington this week and wants to catch up. I’m a little surprised that he still keeps in touch – I would have thought that conflicting values of him and the combination of me in an active period of gentlemen callers and Jonny in his usual lifestyle that were probably factors in Dan moving out might have meant that we’d never have kept in touch, but obviously he is much less judgemental than I am, which is a good thing.

    6. My couches have arrived. I am hoping to have a lengthy date with them and Season One Seth Cohen and possibly Katy and definitely lots of junk food on the weekend.

    7. Via Mr Russell Brown at Public Address, I am reading the blog of a sex offender, who complains bitterly about being persecuted all the time, but who has now been jailed for abducting a little girl and killing her family. I can’t stop reading it, although it’s making me think all kinds of uncomfortable thoughts about things that I haven’t decided what my opinion is on yet. Like, vigilant hounding mobs are bad, but also, so is rape and abduction and murder. Right, okay, so obviously I do have some opinions, but they’re very Miss America like in their simplicity. I’d like the whole world to hold hands, because you can’t make a fist when you’re holding hands. Etc.

    8. Speaking of Public Address, has anyone else read the Metro article yet – or more specifically the sidebar of interchanges between him and Dog Biting Men? See, this is why I hate people who willingly attach the name “blogger” to themselves. Keep the circle jerk in your pants, boys. There’s more important things in the world to talk about – like how you’re oh so depressed. And how much better than Fiona Jackie Clarke is. Journaller fo’ life, fo’ reals yo.

    9. I have a buttload of writing and reviewing to do before tomorrow at home (*), and also a lot of work to do at work. So I might go and do that now then shall I? Okay.

    10. Oh but before I do, are there any websites that you read that are just so horrible you want to punch the people who write them in the face every single time their page loads – and yet you still can’t stop reading them? Can you please tell me about them? You can do so on the secret footnotes page if you want to remain semi-anonymous.

    Comment » | Journal

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