I wrote this four years ago, on March 16 2003, and I’m reprinting it now because it is a reminder of how far I’ve come, and how even when I’m having a crappy day, at least it’s not like that. And because I feel really disconnected from the girl who wrote this, and that is a good thing.

Thank you two, I love you.

And so in the past couple of sessions, I mentioned to Kalpana that I’ve been having more down spells lately than I feel are right, given that I’m supposed to be on the mend, I’m swallowing my 20mg of cipramil every day, I’m getting my expensive therapy and I have a job that meets all the criteria that I realised through my sessions with her that I was looking for. I mention to her that maybe I should think about upping my meds, but then come up with a thousand reasons why I’ve been getting the down spells, and she defaults to my feelings, saying “well, we should keep an eye on it, definately”.

I ache. I ache all over, hollow and empty and just so fucking lonely, and it feels like nothing anyone should ever have to feel, but it’s very familiar to me, and it always keeps coming back, and I want to call out for help, but what can anyone do to plug the gap? Nothing. Nothing at all. And so I let myself sink lower and lower. I forget to fill my cipramil prescription and then it’s the weekend and my chemist with thelovely old chinese man who gets it faxed in for me is closed. I find myself on Saturday night sitting in the kitchen crying on Bopha and Allison’s shoulders, because even if this is PMS, I cannot go on feeling like this for a couple of days every month, and Allison agrees with me that I need to get my meds adjusted. I thought cipramil was great because it stopped me from feeling suicidal while still letting me have SOME feelings, unlike Fluoxtine, but then it came back. I could feel myself shutting down again as basic functions fell by the wayside. And each time I have one of these episodes, it comes on much much faster than the last.

Cue me today trapped in my room, crying my eyes out, unable to leave even to get tissues because that’s the form and shape that depression takes for me, trapping me, leaving me imobilised. I hate being fucked up I hate not being able to sleep I hate that when I do sleep all I have is nightmares I hate the whole body ache, I hate being the girl who always seems fucked up I hate relying on my friends I hate not trusting my friends I hate being unable to ask for help I hate having to ask for help I hate that most of the time it seems like no one is able to help me. And I hate that all I could think about was the codeine in my drawer. So I texted Tom, and told him I was scared. He called my landline immediately, and we talked for ages, me crying and blowing my nose intermittantly into a towel. He calmed me down some but at the same time, while i was making jokes about expired condoms, I was combing through my medicine drawer, making a tally.

The codeine would be enough to make me sleep almost instantly. The brufen and the voltarin would probably rip my stomach to shreds. Worse case scenario, I would down them all, and then wake up, crippled from damage to my internal organs. I just want to sleep, I just want it to stop, I don’t want to kill myself, but I want to be somewhere else, anywhere else. Maybe I want that cry for attention, the suicide attempt, I want the bed in the hospital for a few days, people by my side mending bridges and all that crap. I just want to not be me anymore, to not have to battle this goddam fucking disease which seems so totally incurable.

The afternoon stretches on and on and on and I desperately try to get ahold of Nikki. Of course, I have her cellphone and her new flat doesn’t have a phone. I call her mother because that’s where she said she was going to be. Her mother calls me back to ask for Nikki’s number. I call her friend Gina, whose number I find in Nikki’s phone. She tells me Nicola’s number. Nicola’s voicemail says her name is Hayley. I am trapped on the floor in the corner of my room by my door. I can hear Bopha walking around outside and I can’t call out to her, which is fucking pathetic. And then I hear her on the phone, dealing with her sister’s crisis. I definately can’t call out now. When she knocks on my door to ask if I want dinner I say I’m fine.

I have a sore throat coming on, and it’s dry from crying so I don’t know how I’m going to swallow the pills if I take them. Maybe if I wash them down with a bottle of something, they’ll be effective enough that I won’t wake up. But the only liquor in the house that I can think of is half a bottle of kristov. I might as well swallow a box of panadol. I don’t want to try and fail. I don’t want to leave my friends and family behind, I don’t want to hurt them in any way, I know that they love me, and if I could just reach out, they’d turn heaven and earth over to help me. But I don’t see how they can help, because I’m just too far gone, I don’t see any light at the tunnel,and I am so tired and so fucking weary of having to fight this all the time, I just want to live and be okay and not have to worry every fucking day if I’m going to go psycho again. I’m tired of inflicting that worry on the ones I love as well, I’m just so fucking tired. I don’t want to be fucked up, it’s not cool,it’s not glamourous, it’s just flat out fucking exhausting. I don’t see how I’ve been an awful enough person to deserve this. And I know that there are squillions of people out there who suffer a fuck load more than me.

There’s no razors in my room, and that doesn’t work anyway. If I was to try the hot knife on my leg again, that’d mean getting up, going into the kitchen, facing the world, and besides, there’s only so much relief that that amount of physical pain can give you. My new idea is to take the codeine. Six tablets won’t kill me, but it will knock me out. Then maybe I can wake up feeling better. But what if someone walks in, freaks out. That’s not fair to do to flatmates, it’s what has stopped me before. Two pills then. But if I take two, I’m going to take more. I can’t stop my teeth from shaking, I can’t fucking handle this, and I need Nikki to come and save me NOW. I am always waiting for the knight on a white horse, and it never shows up, and we can trace that back to being 14 again, and I am so tired of therapy and talking and crying and wondering what’s the root of what and I am so tired of thinking and I am so tired of trying to keep myself alive so maybe it’s the turn of someone else and I just want the pain to stop, and surely that’s what painkillers are for and I’m tipping the codeine out into my palm and putting them back in the bottle and tipping them out again and I’m terrified so I super selfishly call Tom.

He’s in Christchurch asking if I want him to fly up, because he’ll do that on a moment’s notice for me, but I can’t get him to do that. He says he’ll call me back on the landline and I say no, I can’t go out into the lounge to get it. What I can get him to do, and what I force myself to do is admit that I really need to see someone, maybe KateH, and I tell him that I can’t call her, because it’s too fucking hard to ask for help, and so he tells me that he’ll call her, and we get off the line and I sit here and shake and my teeth bang against each other and I try to keep my breathing at an okay rate and he texts me to say that KateH is on her way and I cry some more and rub my nose raw on the towel.

And 20 minutes later she comes in, and I’m still sitting on my bed in the dark, doors and windows open wide, shaking in cold and fear and sickness styles, and she’s brought me flowers and chocolate and throaties and so I cry some more, weird animal noises onto her shoulder and have a semi panic attack before I manage to breathe and blow my nose and hand her my box of pills and ask her to take them away and we talk about pill dosages and i reiterate everything I’ve written above, and it’s the first time that I have ever told anyone in so much detail – with the possible exception of Kalpana – about how suicidal I have been/am whatever tense you want to use, and so that’s fucking terrifying as well, even if I end up listing stupid reasons why I can’t kill myself (ie – we wouldn’t win at Quiz Night anymore and she’d have to give the QM one of her specialty letters saying “no Jo didn’t kill herself cos you have a g/f you pompous git” etc) and just when I’m starting to come down, Ammy comes in and I so don’t want to talk to her at that time, and so when I try to explain that basically, I need to have my meds upped, she says “well everyone has down patches”. Yes, everyone has down patches, true. I have good patches, sometimes. That’s the difference. That and bad patches should never ever feel this way. Luckily Ammy leaves pretty soon, and KateH says “she has good intentions” adn I know that, but I just can’t deal. KateH is wonderful and nice and calms me down, and we even get in a little gossiping before she has to go off to work, taking my pills with her – promising to return them to me at a later date, because really, codeine in one-pill-at-a-time is lovely, and she drops me off at the shops so I can buy dinner and avoid my flat.

And here I am now, having eaten, and read half of Metro, and having had big long lovely cuddles with Sebastian. My eyes and nose are still stinging and my throat is still sore, but I’m a fuck load calmer, and have been rendered incapable of doing myself any harm tonight, even if I wanted to, which I don’t think I do. I’m seeing Kalpana on Tuesday, and I will try to see Dr White ASAP to get a new med script. Why did I write this up here? Attention seeking, some of you are saying. Sure, why not. Maybe. Maybe because I needed to write it. Maybe because I’d like you to know that if you’ve ever felt this way, you’re not alone. Joanna the altruist, yeah, that’s me. And yeah, I still ache, and I guess I always will.

“P.S I’ll overlook the fact that you came to Hamilton [possibly numerous times] and didn’t see me, if you overlook my excessive use of brackets and caps. Thats what a friend would do. Thanks.”

Andeee honey, you used square brackets. :]. heh.

I have been a bad bad girl and not kept in contact with my darling Hamilton friends Hole and Andee. This was by no means intentional. I also miss Miss Maree Hamilton Mazzive like crazy, so perhaps a trip to the city that’s “So much more than you’d expect” is in order pretty soon. Not next weekend though, because Nikki has me booked, and by that stage I wouldn’t have seen her for two weeks, and I’m going fucking crazy without her. I also miss Tom extreme amounts and am very much looking forward to going to Chch at Easter.

On Friday night I stood in a line with Ammy, who is skinny, and Jody, who is a personal trainer, while three boys groped our asses to compare them. They declared that rugby was the winner on the day. KateM’s flatmates’ friends gave us funny looks. The boys had started it though, making us judge their asses first. It was a thoroughly enjoyable party. KateM’s house was apparently the first brothel in Auckland, and it’s this darling little thing in a semi industrial area, which is a little weird but very cool. I consumed very vast amounts of liquor which I had been unable to do all week leading up to it, so that was fun, although yesterday didn’t feel so fun. My head is aching from the sugar pills part of my estelle35, begging me to take more hormones. It fucking sucks, especially since KateH still has all of my codiene.

Bo came round last night to hang out, so that was lovely. We’re full of plans for another dinner at Canton, so we gotta choose a date and hurry up and book in. Right now I would give anyone head for a neckrub, it’s so fucking sore. Then again, right now I’d probably give anyone head full stop. I am more than a little sexually frustrated lately. However, I do also have a pretty new grey skirt that matches my grey hat what I got at the clothing trade we had at the school gala – where inncidently I made 50 cents in the kissing booth – and if Katie would give me back my black lycra top, then we’d all be happy. And I’m not hassling you Katie, I just know that I’ll forget to ask for it at any other time, and you’ll read it here and that will be good. Wonderful.

And yay, I can still scrape together $11, so I’m off to rent six movies. What should I get? Hmmm. I’ve just finished Hunter S Thompsen’s biography – although yes, a review of it appeared in my last edition, so shoot me, I wrote it before I finished the actual book – so I’ll probably get ‘Fear and Loathing’. And maybe ‘The Ice Storm’, cos feeling hollow and empty is just what I need! And some kinda teen movie, and and and. Maybe the original Buffy movie. Heh. I have such good taste, really I do. But it’s okay, cos I’m not going to Videon so the guy can’t snob me out. It’s funny though, cos Bo was in there after ‘My Friend Totoro’ which they didn’t have, and the guy was all “oh but we’re getting ‘Spirited Away’ in on DVD soon” and so Bo got to go “well I saw that at the press preview with my friend” and he was very jealous and I wish she’d said “the same friend who you turned your nose up at cos she was renting Molly Ringwald movies”. Nevermind.

xojo

Tomorrow I am interviewing Pluto. !. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. Let’s hope I don’t drown in my own panty moistness. Also, I took these two photos of MeegEh who is leaving me on Saturday (dude, that’s Megan, but she’s from Canadia, hence the nickname) and Bo at work:

Stuff is mostly good – I am currently drunk with Nikki again, just for a change, and we’ve found a guy to move into MeegEh’s room – his name is Lance – and we have soem decent sounding prospects for Jonny’s room, adn thank fucking god he’s moving in with Ting.

Work is funnish, I have bene taking lots of photos lately, and assigning things to monkeys, and yeah. Ummm what else? School Gala party on March 8th, and if you’re unhappy with m2 beign taken off the air, you can call Mr Glen Sowry, Head of Public Affairs at TVNZ- 09 916 7565 / 021 461 775 to complain. But he hasn’t texted me back. How rude.

Would you stop smoking those goddam cancer sticks and come and hang out with me? Sheesh.

I spoke too soon about how nice it was to not have anyone extra staying. The German girls are back tonight, they just waltzed in and dumped their stuff – “we’re back”. I think I’m going to have to have a word to Ammy about it, because no one here can actually afford to subsidise their living costs. And I just want some peace!

Actually, I’m a little richer that I expected to be, because my darling frined Nikki ran my number through the IRD and I get $350 back in tax. Then on Saturday, despite that we were both hungover, she took me to the battery shop and fitted a new battery in my rusty old engine, and checked my oil (there was none) and my water, and asked me if I could change a tyre. I can. Just whip out your cellphone and call 0800 500 222. Duh.

Anyways, Friday night was dinner with KateH and Nikki here, and some copious amounts of beer consumption, before going to Steven’s apartment for more drinking. Steven lives in the same building that nigel used to live in, so there were far too many memories for me of crying in stairwells. Oh well. Steven’s friends were rather amusing, and Nikki (and to a lesser degree I) had arguments with the boys about whether or not Pearl Jam should have broken up a long time ago (yes). There was a suicide girls sticker in the bathroom, and three spacies machines in the lounge. There was also a boy there with Frodo eyes, so that was very cute. Eventually Nikki and I went home to drink more beer and hide in my bedroom from Jonny. Later I had to get up to go to Megan’s bed where Nikki was sleeping cos she came-a-knocking on my bedroom door demanding that I go and tell her stories til she fell asleep. I cheated and receited Douglas Coupland.

Then yesterday, being Saturday, there was the assorted car battery madness (it goes now! how exciting!) and much laying around doing nothing at all. In the evening, Allison showed up, which was lovely, and Ammy made us lovely food, and her and me and Bo and Allison all went to the biggass party at Milton Road that the Kids were playing at (Okay, so they’re actually called The Midnights now, officially apparently, so I must stick to that). There were many many many people there, so many that I couldn’t even watch the kids play, cos the lounge was too packed and it freaked me out. At other parties I’ve been to with the rogues, conversations came super easily to me and I was all outgoing and friendly and hot chicks were scored, but it wasn’t like that last night. Maybe I was a little introverted, I dunno. I did have a very interesting long talk with this guy who works for an organisation that’s kinda parellel to mine, and he was cool, but then there was the whole conversation finished “i’m going to go and check out the rest of the party” thing. I found Bo sitting with a bunch’o the kids on the back of a truck, but it was too cold, and they were all smoking up, which you may reemember I can’t do, so I decided to go home. It was about a twenty minute walk, and only one car offered me a ride. I rejected it, strangely enough. Anyways, so I was very very cold and lonely, but I got home and Seb came running out,so there were many many snuggles and a gorgeous warm bed, and that was fabo.

This morning (well, actually it was this afternoon), Ammy and I went to St Lukes and did a ridiculous amount of running around, and I bought a Sony video player. Yay! I owe her the money though, cos my bond refund and IRD refunds haven’t come through yet. We also got picnicy foods, and eventually headed on over to Potter’s Park, which is just a smidgen up the road, for the peace concert. We got a spot in the shade and spread out blankets and mats and had a lovely afternoon of it, even though whoever was m’cing was a dick. After that, there was more struggling with the video before I managed to get the tv tuned to it, and so now it’s all good.

Tomorrow Bo and Leo are working for me handing out shit. I’m so excited. I’m also super excited that our plans for the School Fair themed b’day party for Megan have developed, and so now along with a kissing booth and a gypsy and pony rides, we’re also going to have a second hand clothing swap meet. This party will be fabo. I hope. I was supposed to clean the bathroom tonight but I might just go to bed instead. xojo.

What was that I was saying about a user interface? I was lying. Look at it this way – extreme minimalism is the new postmodernism.

So it’s been about a week or so, and during this time period, I have been drunk too often, at Quiz Night where I just about fell flat on my face walking out because of bad chair/carpet configurations and trying too hard to make a good impression, and then the next night with Nikki, bawling my eyes out on her shoulder which was good and cleansing, except that I hate that it makes me cry when she said that people love me too much to want to hurt me, as an explanation of how I was left out of the loop of major Dramas within my circle, and i HATE how I couldn’t have been there for anyone because I didn’t know, and I hate that people see me as being that being that much of an emotional screwball, and I know that they don’t really, and I guess I’m totally glad I never had to choose sides, but still, ugh, I hate that people I love so much had so much bad shit going on.

<!– And I hate that she whimpers in her sleep –>and I hate that I can’t fix the world, and I hate that I’m going to have to take steps to fix the parts of me that I’m utterly terrified of.

On up notes, I love that I bought a TV. And I love that when I was planning on staying at home on saturday night by myself drinking champagne alone and feeling morose by myself (how dare my friends be on holiday in welly, or living in other cities for their jobs or stricken with glandular fever or at reggae festivals in Raglan?) Darren rang up and so I had dinner with him and his friends and Jonny, and then we went to see his new studio, and it was cool, although I think I had a drunken slurred argument with him about whether or not Audioslave are shit (yes). And what else is there? Visits from special friends to look forward to, although it totally sets back my whole Taking Affirmative Action plan with someone. These are two letters that I want to write and send but I won’t:

Dear Boy A, Don’t you think that it’s a little strange that I started emailing you out of the blue? No? Good. But you shouldn’t interupt other people and go all excitedly “Oh, I’ve been emailing Jo!” if what you mean is “Oh yeah sometimes I reply and then other times, like when I get a group invitation to hang out with her at her workplace which quite obviously was just a lame set up excuse to get me to get her to have coffee with me, I won’t reply”. Jesus boy. I have excellent taste in music, and I don’t think I was too bad a fuck, and I’ve tracked you down and apologised to you for being a spaz. Take a fucking hint!

Okay, so those letters are crap and not at all eloquent or proper explainy, but they’re what’s rolling around and around in my head. Oh hush, I’ll write whatever I damn well want to write. After all, I am self absorbed. And vulgar.

So it’s Anniversary Weekend in Auckland right now, which means that I have the day off tomorrow, which means that i’ll probably spend a large chunk of the day rolling around in bed with Sebastian, and reading ‘The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay’, although unfortunately, I’m quickly running out of pages left. It’s a great fucking book, and it reminds me a lot of ‘Carter Beats the Devil’ which was also excellent.

When did I last update? My job is still bliss, I’m writing all the copy for the first issue and I’m rocking at it. Plus I have my first feature story on the go now as well. The whole office had brainstorming sessions on Friday morning, and then semi team building exercises that consisted of putting up our new tent, and then we were all taken out to lunch at the Mexican Cafe. Note to self: Mexican chilli oil is HOT, and is not at all like ordering thai or Indian as ‘Hot’. Oh no. This is the red liquid of death, so I was unable to finish my meal. But I was still overflowing anyways, and drunk off two coronas. Luckily, we had the afternoon off afterwards, so I went home, and was dazzed enough to let Megan talk me into going to the pet store with her, hence why I am now the loving mother to a tiny little kitten called Sebastian. He is so sweet! He is so gorgeous! He is going to be completly loved to death! Peter came over later to see the kitten and to hang out, and umm what else did I do? Probably polished off the last of the Anne’o Green Gables books I borrowed off Nikki. Is it totally wrong of me to be picturing Anne and Gilbert having sex? I guess so. How VULGAR of me. Heh. That’s KateH’s and Nikki’s and my new catchword.

On Saturday there were huge big thunderstorms and rain in the morning which made it perfect weather for reading and catcuddling in bed. KateH came over and joined us, and then Nikki rang so I invited her over for the evening. KateH left to go home for a nap as soon as Nikki showed up, bringing with her a couple of bottles of wine and a lot of beer. So she and I sat down to start drinking and talked our jaws off. KateH came back in time for the spinach soup and of course we all called each other vulgar a lot. Eventually we were sitting in the ballroom and KateH went to go change the tape (Ammy has her cd player with her in Welly) and she found an old “Sounds of Garland” tape, and so of course she put that on, and so of course we got up and shook our collective booty. Eventually Katie put on her suit and slunk out the back door for another function, and Nikki and I stayed up talking and drinking more til I had to tuck her up on the couch with a bucket at her side. That’s what friends are for.

In the morning’o today, Nikki went and picked up Kate from her house so she could pick up her car, and the two’o them helped me dump the big couch out on the back porch. Nikki also filled my car battery with distilled water, and apparently it might even work now, once I get someone to jump start me. Hmmm, i think Sebastian has mountainclimbing urges. He’s perched on my shoulder now, clawing at my hair. You go little kitty, you go. Oh, we also have a washing machine now, rented at $36 a month which is much cheaper and more convient than laundromat fees. Now I can think about getting a tv. Our house is totally a home now. Bop’s had her mail directed here and she’s coming up next week. I am filled with glad tidings.

Friday June 7th

Morning is a mad dash to the supermarket with Bopha to get there and back in time for me to get changed and go to work,and I end up being ten minutes late, but it’s not like they’re really keeping time anyways, or so it seems. There’s a lamington waiting on my desk when I get there, sprinkled with baby m&ms and with a chopstick stuck in it, and as soon as I walk in, Skew and Terri are like “Happy birthday” and I’m like “thanks, who’s birthday is it?” and they’re like “yours” and I’m like “no” but it was really sweet anywyas, and apparently we’re gonna have a drinkathon on my birthday. That kicks ass! I can’t imagine any other workplace doing that. Oh yeah, at Foodstuffs, they laid on morning tea – biscuits and buttered muffins when they all knew I was vegan. Choice. But anyways, work is fun, and at three pm, Terri and I go for a 10 minute walk to the graphic designer’s office (the people I work for have buildings ALL OVER town – we 0wn Auckland) and that was fun too. She’s choice, I like her, and I will miss her when she is gone. Also she said today to someone else that I’m being groomed for her role, so that could be interesting.

Afternoon/evening is meant to be going down to Deschlers to meet up with the lovely Annabel but Bopa made me smoke a spliff with her so I couldn’t actually leave the house, so instead Annabel and later Arch came here. They were cool, and I invited them to my birthday party and she was like “oooh maybe the HJT could play” and I was like !!!! and then I giggled lots cos I have silly rock star crushes. Fuck, was I supposed to be writing present tense? I think it’s like, 5am or something, so fuck you and your grammar rules. Anyways, so there’s martinis martinis martinis and Bopha’s friends are over and they’re loud and shit so I go to my room, and KateM comes over and we drink and gossip and giggle, as girls do, for ages and ages and ages. Eventually we go down to Deschlers where we find Andy all by himself so we chat to him for quillions of years before Nigel & Jarrod show up. Razza is behind the bar, so that’s flashback to auldskool days, and the thousands of hours and cocktails and thighgropings consumed at Deschlers. Eventually we manage to grab ourselves a booth, and KateM holds me down and covers my mouth so I can’t scream when they get Andy to start smoking. And then there’s text messages and cellphone calls, and suddenly, I have Other Things To Do, with lots and lots of capital letters and a fair amount of injokeness, and I’m trekking up to K’Road by myself and by golly it’s cold. But it’s okay, because it’s wonderful and lovely, and yeah, but now I’m home again, cos you know what I’m like. But cool.

Hi! So. It’s been what, like, two and a bit weeks? Well, I’m here now. And I’d just like to start with this:

I love this girl so much

That’s Bopa Chai, the Shaolin Monk on Crack, aka my new flatmate whom we are still very much enamoured of. And while we’re speaking of photos, while she was around tonight, KateM demanded that i take some of her that don’t feature her cleavage prominently and in which she isn’t rather boozed, and so if you’re interested (and I guess I’m looking at the J-Crew here mostly, not that you probably even realise that you’re called the J-Crew now, but maybe we’ll get there in this entry) you can find them here.

Anyways, so I guess maybe you’d like an explanation as to where I’ve been for the past three weeks. Well, I’ve been right here, pretty much, but for the most part, I have been computerless. That’s right, you may recall how I kept getting electric shocks off my box? (oh ha ha ha, that one was a little too obvious) Those shocks eventually managed to fry pretty much every single inner component of my computer, and so I went a week without it, and then Peter’s workmates rebuilt it for me, at a cost, of course. This means that i lost everything on my hard drives, which SUCKS (and therefore all cd donations of mp3s will be very very gratefully accepted, thank you) but the one silver lining in the cloud was that therefore they didn’t find the folder full’o old topless photos (and yes of course i had topless photos on my computer – show me any girl with a webcam who doesn’t have one, and I’ll show you a girl who knows how to use her delete key). Oh yeah and Pete – if you did manage to extract them, you’d better have enjoyed them and not turned away in disgust, or I’ll be like, hurt and shit. Anyways. That’s why I haven’t been updating my website, and so yeah, thank you all for your letters of concern. Oh wait, hang on – like hardly anyone sent me one! You people think you can all sit here and read and not tell me about it – I’m looking at you, Kate Oliver, and you, Jane Yee, but believe me, I know. Also, Jane – apparently you said that I was really fucked up, but I heard that from a source with no credibility so that’s okay.

Of course there are people who do read my journal and tell me about it. I have hazy memories of one night recently having a big arguement with John and JeremE who were trying to tell me that this journal online isn’t the real me, but I can’t remember if they were saying one was better than the other or not. I think I was trying to argue 1. “Hey John, you’ve only just met me tonight, buddy” and 2. of course it’s me, but I don’t know if I got my points across because I just ended up quoting Tom and KateB who probably know me better than almost anyone and they say that I’m not as open as I think I am, so I kinda dug my own hole. Later, KateH and I managed to reach an agreement whereby Hubris is Ginger Spice and I’m Geri Halliwell (I mean, the physical resemblence is obvious) so that was good.

Other stuff that’s happened over the past while? I meant to write lists, but I didn’t. I’ve hung out with Bopha lots and lots and lots, and all her friends have decided that our flat has an excellent vibe, so they hang out here too. I get to watch them doing kung fu, having intelligent discussions, drinking endless cups of Jasmine tea and smoking very nice pot ever so often, which are all good things, even if the Kung Fu makes me exhausted just hearing it.

We had cigar, martini and poker night last week, which was fucking excellent. Everyone (was supposed to) dressed up 1920s/1930s gangster style, and we played and played and I smoked many many cigars. My friends don’t actually like martinis (wusses!) so we degenerated into apple martinis and cosmos instead, and then towards the end of the night everything just thrown together, but still out of martini glasses so I guess that’s okay. I don’t know who won at poker – we pushed all the chips in the middle for the last round and I think maybe Clayton won, but I can’t be sure.

My parents are in Mexico right now. Before they went away, Anji rang me up and told me Mum had gone into her work and been really spassy saying “Umm, I don’t know if we have a will or not, but you know that we have three houses right? So if anything happens to us, you can have one each”. I got email from them today saying that Neil got his wallet stolen on the first day that they were there, and that I shouldn’t try to buy anything online with their credit card number cos they canceled it. Also, apparently every time Mum goes to say something, she speaks Japanese instead of Spanish. Silly multilingual parents!

Oh yeah, I rang Mum up a week before they left, bawling my eyes out over my dead computer and the fact that my car had been broken into YET AGAIN and was generally unwarrantable and everything. That’s three fucking back windows, all for NOTHING. Grrr.

Shirley helped me break the rest of the glass out of the window and ducttaped it up for me. She’s my Manly friend. However, she’s going tomorrow for ever and ever and ever. I have to drive her to the airport and while I promised her I wouldn’t, I know I will cry and cry and cry. We had chocolate fondue and girlie night at her place on Friday, her and Maz and Morrison. I had flashback panic attacks in the car on the way home, partly about Shirley and partly about friends in general and other stuff. Other Stuff in capital letters even. When I set my mind to something, I want to do it as quickly as possible, get it over, out of the way and what have you. No drawn out trauma and thinking extremely, so later that night there were hugs and tears in my kitchen, and hours and hours of talking, excrutiating exhausting talking. I’m so conditioned to say “that’s okay, that’s alright” when someone apologises to me and I physically had to stop myself from saying it because it would have been insincere and everyone knows that. But there’s peace at least, and maybe that’ll stop the dreams.

Yesterday I drove to Pukekohe and got lost for half an hour because I came in at the other end of the town than where KateH anticipated that I would, and therefore rights were lefts and therefore wrong, which frustrated me immensely and I was burning up with fever, but finally I managed to find her and we went via Pak’n Slave to Nikki’s bach at Clark’s Beach. I think I wasn’t really expecting a good night, but it turned up to be excellent. Eight girls, two of them married, one with two children – it was an interesting cross section. They were all from Waiuku/Pukekohe though, so I was a little on the outside, but that’s okay, we bonded as girls always do over “I have Never” and I didn’t even end up sticking out like a deviant sore thumb as I have been known to do when playing the game with d-sters. It was also really nice to be out of the city, even if we could still see the sky tower in the far distance. I didn’t get much sleep though, cos it was hot, and I was sleeping on the couch in the lounge, cos the bunks were too short, the bottom bunks were too claustraphobic and I didn’t wanna sleep on a top bunk when I’m used to a mattress on the floor. But anyways. Nikki even cooked us all breakfast this morning, kickass. And then because I’m lovely, I took KateH to Waiuku so that she could see her mother for Mother’s Day. Her family are cool, except I was scared when someone was talking about the Baha Men, and so I complained about how I’d have the song in my head for the rest of the day, and Jane offered to put a different song in my head and I said okay, then EVERYONE at exactly the same time went “do do do do do do do do” in the manner of bears driving around in cars being the ballet. But Katie pumped me full’o gas and bought me chocolate too, so I love her.

And that’s it, I guess. Not very much for the past three weeks, I just can’t think. There’s been classes, of course, which I have even been to sometimes. I’m worried about tomorrow, my first friend off on her OE. Of course, there’s also KateB who’s doing so fucking brilliantly she makes me teary with pride when she calls me with news of her latest achievements (Kate – call me! Hi, I like you). OH! completely new topic now, so I should probably put in a new paragraph because it’s going to get a little dodgy.

What does the word “trans” mean to you? Do you even give it much thought? And if so, if you were told you were going to have a “transvaginal ultrasound” would you realise that it was going to be done from the inside? Well, I certainly didn’t, and believe me, I got one of the biggest shocks’o my recent life when the radiographer pulled out this huge fucking girthy 13 incher and rolled a condom over it. She told me to insert it “like a tampon” and I was like “ummmmmmmm holy fuck” Her reassurances that it didn’t all have to go in didn’t count for much. Afterwards she just left and told me to leave the door open when I’d cleaned myself up. I felt so cheap and used! But end of the story is that after extensive consultation with my doctor, I’m now on the pill again. Not evil evil femulen though; estelle35 which is what pretty much everyone with polycystic ovarian syndrome gets put on. And if I find after a couple of months I’m going psycho and losing my sex drive again, I will just stop taking it. Dr White was very amusing when she was going over it with me, asking if I’d be using it for contraceptive purposes, and I was like “yeah I doubt it eh” and she was like “well, if you DO meet Prince Charming tonight or something…”. I like her lots and lots. Also, yeah, so apparently I don’t ovulate all the time and I might very well have difficulty concieving children BUT I’m not infertile and I’m supposed to remember that and not worry and that was why my blood pressure was up a little, apparently, cos I was worried and cos I’d been running around. Normally I have excellent blood pressure. I asked Anji if she’d carry a baby for me, and she promised me an egg, and even offered to put it on ice now, so that’s okay. There’s a backup plan.

And now I think that’s probably enough eh. My back hurts – I’m sitting on the ground again. However, the rugmunching possibilities are looking good – or at least the rug part, because I’ve seen one of the flats downstairs has actually been moved out of, and they’re pulling up the carpet in there, and once they’ve laid new stuff there, they’ll be putting new stuff in here as well, adn then I can sort out my room and reassemble my desk, six months after the actual flooding.

I’m still downloading Hubris – the only links I have left to my computer past – but maybe I can rejig the order and upload this now.

Top’o the morning to you! To be sure, to be sure! You see, the ting is…KateMandIwentout to celebrate St Pats day today around 2.30pm. It’s only like 9.30pm now but I had to come home cos she had to go elsewhere<!– answering a booty call, no less –>. I’m full of baileys and guiness and doing easter eggs right now so I’m fairly content, especially since it means that Ican review how far I’ve come. Last St Patricks’, she said I was thepopular one, yet this yearit was her with the homeless people asking herfor kisses. Apparently I will be popular next year, we’re taking turns. Her friend Veggie Jason also came out with us (as opposed to ‘Hot Jason’) and so that was fun. Her and I got stick on tattoos from the barman that said “Kiss me,I’m Irish” so we had txting competitions, trying to send that message to more people, but we both peaked at 15 I think. Or was it that we each had 15 people starting with J in our phones? Something like that. KateM is a bad influence on me.

When did I last write? I suspect it was some time ago. Friday I braved insane traffic and lack’o parking at lunchtime to bring KateH Mercury plaza for her lunch, because I love her that much and also because I’ve behaved badly towards her lately and while that doesn’t make up for it, I’m all about tokenism. Later that evening I met up with her and Nicky and two of Nicky’s friends at D72 and we had dinner and fun and then a big drive around Mission Bay (“Nicky,are you taking me to a lookout point? are we going to make out?”). Then I went to the supermarket in Mt Eden for beer and C batteries (life’s essentials) and figured that since I was in her neighbourhood,I’d go see KateM. So I hung out with her and Elliot, and I ripped my skirt all the way across one of its panels. Damn fifty year old perishable Thai silk! So that sucked. Elliot tried to talk me into going out to dance to house music, but oh please. However, he did say that he’d go on boat tour’o the Ports’o Auckland with me, whichwas immensly pleasing since everyone else just laughs at me when I suggest it. Come on people, it’s FREE! So there. Anyways,eventually I had to go home cos i was falling asleep, and also because my skirt was so ripped.

On Saturday Shirley came over and we hung out and then Richard came over and we hung out some more. We’d intended to go dancing at bEd, but by that stage we were too ‘tired’ to actually move, so we had to give that one a miss. But still, it was nice to spend some quality time with her. Which brings us to Sunday, which is today, and which is where I started this journal entry.

Someone just sent me an AIM going “this sounds like a weird question but are you short?” I talked to them briefly but they kept saying “lol” so I started to ignore them. Lol my ass. OOOh, FINALLY I can get ahold of my Diane, so I will go and call him now and refuse to scan my nipples for him, on the grounds that my scanner isn’t working and I only offered to get his attention.

We’re in some girlie strip club somewhere and the dancer looks EXACTLY like some girl I fucked a couple of years ago, only with bigger breasts, and so it’s a little odd for me, and Nikki’s like “txt everyone!” and so I do, and then I stop to pause and wonder how the fuck I got there. And then so I think things through, and it’s KateH’s birthday, and we’re BYOing at Caravan Serai, so there’s a couple of bottles going in me as well as some lamb and hummus or something and I’m talking to lots of Kate’s friends, and wanting to set Jarrod up with WellyBrad, but they’re both refusing to call each other, so oh well. And then I’m with Nikki and Nichola, and we’re in Nikki’s car, and then we’re parking and then we’re paying a cover charge and yeah.

Later Nikki drops me at Khuja, and I’m apologising to KateH for complaining to all her workmates about the music they play, even though I know that they agree with me, and I keep calling Lovely Paul on his cellie and laughing at him trying to figure out who it is. And then eventually I go home, and there’s lamb&rice turkish on the way home, and now there’s exlovers and tears and water being spilt all over the place and oh my god, this is too excruitating.