Hubris.co.nz

Once again, I have been neglectful, and for that I apologise. But look outside. Do you really expect me to be indoors at my computer when it’s as gorgeous as it has been for the past week? Well yes, as a matter of fact, I spent all day at my dining room table typing away, because I slept very badly last night and consequently felt like shit this morning, and so asked permission to work from home. And that’s not even “work from home” as I did a page by page analysis of our site, proofreading, editing and planning for the future – and there’s about 100 pages on it. I was particularly impressed with one page that has “Image: please supply an image and caption in landscape form” developed as part of the text body, in title tags even, becasue um, hello, wakey wakey whoever developed it. Which wasn’t me. It was a long long boring job, but it was made easier by the fact that I was in my pyjamas, and Sebastian was curled at my feet, and all the doors and windows in the house were open to let in some air. That was much better than being in the office. It was also great that I managed to do three loads of washing whilst working hard, and also in my lunchbreak I went for a swim.

I have been doing much swimming lately, sometimes in my totally hott new togs, running to the beach after work, or on the weekend when I got totally sunburnt on Sunday. But let’s talk about the total and utter joy of last Friday first. In fact, let me paste in my drunken summation of it:

So, today I was clever and took my togs to work. But sadly, at lunch today as I wasn’t going to the gym, I ended up spending $50 at Farmers on lip gloss, tweezers, handcream and eye shadow. Then I thought I would pop into Zebranos cos they were having a sale, amnd I found a dress that I thought would be okay to try on since it was two sizes smaller than I thought i needed, but it ended up being fucking hot, if a little Twee-able, so I ended up buying it, on the rationa that it was $250 cheaper than usual on account of the sale (skipping that it meant it was $200), and then I had to go to Farmers again to buy a slip to go under it. Then at 5pm I ran away and took at #15 and went to the children’s playground near the Tugboat and found AWESOME private changing rooms and put my togs on and then Karen was there and we went SWIMMING! She pointed and made “want to?” motions at me, and so we decided that yes, we would swim out to the raft anchored in the harbour. It was about 100 metres out, and I was a little worried that I wouldn’t be able to make i, because while I am an excellent frolicker and floater, actual swimming isn’t actually my thing. But I paddled out there, and clambered on board, and felt my heart go bang bang bang, and we hung out there until we saw hordes of wetsuited people heading for us, so I dived in, and OW, must have done a booby flop cos while I thought it was a good dive, it hurt my tits like woah, but I swam back to the show mostly, and woah like FUN!

PS my dress is AWESOME

It is good when things are awesome. When I saw my counsellor last Tuesday I told her I kind of didn’t even want to come and see her since I was feeling so good and I knew that talking to her would be hard, and we talked about that some more. She asked me about my relationships and I laughed, and later she said “do you think you deliberately go for unavailable men?” and I laughed and laughed and laughed, not just because it’s funny because it’s true, but also because it seems like such a counselling cliche. I feel a little like she’s trying to tick every box with me, because now we have decided on something she says that many of the things about me are typical of that thing. But the thing that is grand is that she made me realise that while the pills have started to work, and the sun plays a part in lifting my mood I can also be proud of all the work that I have done to get myself into this state of being mostly okay again. So hurrah for me! What a clever girl I am.

What else do I have to tell you about? Tomorrow I am going to the Great Blend where people will no doubt refer to me as a blogger, and I will no doubt cringe. On Saturday February 10, I will celebrate ten years of Internetting. Yes, I surfed before, but that was the first day that I stumbled upon IRC, and therefore became addicted. In July I will have had a personal site for ten years. Ten years. Imagine that! And on that note, it must be time to put away my computer for the night. I am tired from doing so many loads of washing, and work, and making pesto, and cooking Papas Garbanzo for Lisa, and then going for a sunset swim at Lyall Bay. But before I go, I must throw mad props to Tori Spelling, because Donna Martin in Season One? Fucking hilarious.

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.