So Here It Is

I said I would write in this blog to document my final year of high school. Now, my final year of high school has come to an end. So here it is. The final entry.

Of course, I still have three exams before I'm REALLY free, and the last of those is on the 1st of December. But it's closer than ever.

Who Was That??

I only just saw the 'Hello Katie' post. Someone has been hacking my account to say they love me! How dare they. <3

Hello Katie

I love you :)

Hello

I apologise for not posting on this blog very much. I have however been updating and posting on my tumblr account, so feel free to check that out. Here is the link:

Today, At 5:45pm

my mum passed away after her 5-year struggle with Motor Neurone Disease. She bore the illness with such grace and bravery. She was a rare woman.

She went peacefully, surrounded by family and close friends, to this beautiful piece of music:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z1eob2_6baA&feature=related

The translated lyrics are here:

Do not be sorrowful or regretful;
Be calm, as God has ordained, and thus my will shall be content.
What do you want to worry about from day to day?
There is One who stands above all who gives you, too, what is yours.
Only be steadfast in all you do,
stand firm; what God has decided, that is and must be the best.
Amen.

I am so glad she could be there for my 18th birthday. It was just as she wanted. I love her so much, and she will always remain a part of me.

This Post Is For Nandita, Who Begs Me To Update My Blog

My last exam was yesterday morning, and I now have a five-day break carrying over until Thursday next week, which means two days of school, then the weekend, then another week, and... suddenly, holidays. The holidays bring many things & people worth anticipating, including Rhi from Bristol, and Nana and Poppa from Havelock North, etc etc. However they also bring an uninterrupted window of time in which studying and painting must take priority if I'm to continue my unbroken record of excellence endorsements!

So today I'm going to do some housework and chores and tidy my room (which I seem to do every week - as soon as it's neat, it seems to dissolve very gradually into this chaotic state, which demonstrates to me that it is in fact not due to an inherent untidiness in my nature, but rather a characteristic of my room to scatter and accumulate before my very eyes).

After that I have to go into Mt Roskill to tutor Haydon, the year 11 boy whose mother has entrusted me with the task of improving his essay-writing before exams. Then I might watch Stanley Kubrick's Lolita later on. We shall see.

What are you up to today? If you had exams, which one do you think you did best in, and which one do you think you bombed?

Since, As, Until

It is the 4th of September. It is 28 days until my birthday. It is two days until my first exam. It is too soon, too late, too now -

I know the tags in this post seem contradictory. How can I feel general exam apathy and general exam panic? I assure you, it's possible. However I'll soon be put out of my misery, as all five of my exams are on the first three days of the week and a half exam period, so I've got de petits vacances of five days. So at least that is something to look forward to, and then another couple of weeks and the holidays will be here...

Tomorrow is Father's Day. I don't know how I can even begin to co-ordinate and enhance one of these ordinary Sundays (which are, at best, resigned and low-key) to do justice to the man who carries a family on his back, and runs a household, and answers the door to visitors who stay longer than they should, and cooks meals, and folds clothes, and cares for his wife, our mother, with utter dedication and acquired knowledge that could practically qualify him to be a nurse. I am privileged to be this man's daughter. But how could any breakfast-in-bed or card or present express the profound weight and impact of that privilege? Father's Day is a joke. Neither the absence nor the presence of a father, and the effect of this, can ever be explained in a single day. It should not be a 'holiday' to be exploited by hardware stores and bookstores and so on. It must be an everyday event... or else it is empty, and meaningless.

So, tell me. What do you appreciate about your father?

A Confident Loner

Sophie couldn’t sleep.

A brilliant moonbeam was slanting through a gap in the curtains. It was shining right on to her pillow.

The other children in the dormitory had been asleep for hours.

Sophie closed her eyes and lay quite still. She tried very hard to doze off.

It was no good. The moonbeam was like a silver blade slicing through the room on to her face.

The house was absolutely silent. No voices came up from downstairs. There were no footsteps on the floor above either.

The window behind the curtain was wide open, but nobody was walking on the pavement outside. No cars went by on the street. Not the tiniest sound could be heard anywhere. Sophie had never known such a silence.

Perhaps, she told herself, this is what they called the witching hour.

The witching hour, somebody had once whispered to her, was a special moment in the middle of the night when every child and every grown-up was in a deep deep sleep, and all the dark things came out from hiding and had the world to themselves.

As a child I used to be able to recite this story, The BFG, word for word for about twenty minutes. I had the cassette tape, and I always had a wonderful memory for things like that. (This now manifests itself in my ability to remember lyrics.) It's a stunning experience to re-read this as an almost-grownup. Even though I don't immediately recall the words of the story reading them now, it's as if I can faintly hear the echo of remembrance - and even stranger, I sense that this writing has influenced my thoughts and my own writing - without my even being aware of it.

Sophie Dahl, the inspiration for this character, is the granddaughter of the wonderful Roald Dahl, author of stories like James and the Giant Peach, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Fantastic Mr Fox, Matilda, The Witches and, of course, The BFG. She has a cooking show on Food Channel in which she cooks according to certain themes or "moods" each week, such as melancholy or self-indulgence. She is quite captivating to watch and I have fallen a little bit in love. My mum and I have observed that her face reminds us of our friend Mari Day crossed with that of Petra Bagust. It's strange when people can remind us so strongly of others and be utterly unrelated.

Last week, "the delicious Miss Dahl" talked about dining alone. She said she always admires people who are confident enough to eat alone at a restaurant or a café - that those things which are deemed in school to be "uncool" become infinitely cooler as you get older. So today I took a leaf out of Sophie's book, and I went to a café with a book (a biography of Sylvia Plath) and a notebook & pen, and passed a wonderful afternoon as a confident loner. My verdict is: I thoroughly recommend it. There is no pressure to talk or to leave before you're ready - and you can people-watch quite unashamedly, without having to divide attention between the fascinating action playing out around you and conversation with somebody else!

Tell me about one of your favourite stories from childhood.
And: what are your views on dining alone? Or even going to films alone? That's something I haven't done yet.

Poems Poems Poems

Stayed home today with a cold, because my parents took pity on me again. (They do this once in a while.) I had a bit of a weekend-type-day, you know, waking up early and mostly going on the internet. Maybe this will enable me to do more exam-related work in the weekend, which I really need to do!

Anyway I'm writing this blog entry because I need to ask you a favour. I've been looking through a lot of poetry competitions and online magazines and I've decided I'd like to submit some of my poems. However I need some help deciding which of the poems I've already written are your favourites. It's also just helpful to know which poems are the best communicators.

So go along to my gallery and pick your top five favourites. Then come back here and list them for me, or send them to: sneakyandzip@gmail.com

It would be much appreciated.

Time (The Revelator)

It's 74 days now or something ridiculous like that. How about it.

I got my learner's today, it was a half day due to the PPTA meeting. Dad picked me up and we did the grocery shopping, got Starbucks and L-plates.

Starting to teach year ten health classes next week. Mock exams are the week after next week. The weeks seem to be going unusually quickly, unfortunately weekends are too. On a roll with painting, after Helen and I spontaneously began dripping paint into the art room sink and pressing paper onto it, creating the best effects. Inspired.

Still got to get my university portfolio together by the 1st of October. Hoping to go down to Hawke's Bay to visit my grandparents the week after next when I have study leave.

Haven't shaken off my cold yet. Sore head whenever I cough, which is pretty miserable. But I'm okay. Comment and tell me one thing you're dreading, and one thing you're looking forward to.

No Callback

I think I'm still jobless.

Job Interview And Other Stories

Yesterday at lunchtime I was lying on a bench outside the common room in the sun talking to Eva, and suddenly my phone started to vibrate, and so I looked at it and didn't recognise the number, and just tried to think for a minute. Eva said "Answer it!" which is exactly what she wouldn't do, as she'd be too scared. So I did, thank goodness. It was a woman calling from New World offering me a job interview, yay! I know it's just a supermarket, but this is the first opportunity that has come my way in a long time. And it will definitely mean better treatment than I received at a well-known butcher's earlier this year...

Anyway! It's a new supermarket, too, so that speaks to me of cleanliness and fresh-polished floors and such. I'm probably going to pick a full day in the weekend. So my interview is at 4:45pm today after the media scholarship meeting.

I was going to talk about "Other Stories" but I don't actually have any. Tricked ya.

89

This is definitely going to be an eventful week, which means it will probably fly past like last week, and before I know it I'll be posting another Sunday night entry about how chaotic life is.

Last week the official scholarship meetings started, so Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons will involve both media and English study sessions, respectively. In addition to that, Alex and I will be planning our short film entry into the Waikato University film competition.

During the weekend I got on a roll with my 3.3 art portfolio, so that will take up my lunchtimes, and hopefully will branch out into something fantastic and useable.

Thursday is Jono AND Leo's birthday, they're both turning 18 (and they still argue about who's the eldest), and then Friday night is Leo's party. The theme is "song names" so I have to come up with a good costume idea.

If I had a blue velvet dress I'd wear that, but... I don't.

Karina's Party And The Rest Of The Weekend

On Friday evening at 7pm, Karina's eighteenth birthday party commenced. She had put clever signs up everywhere saying things like "This Door Leads To Hell" and "If Shit Happens, Call My Mum On This Number." She had a massive vase filled with glowsticks for everyone to use. She had rented a black light and a mini strobe. It was quite exciting.

So at first it was just me and Karina and Eva, and we were actually quite content that way, but soon people started arriving. As tends to happen at parties. Thrills were had at the way white clothing lit up under the UV light. Leo wore his Ghostbusters jumpsuit. Nandita had fantastic fluorescent orange tights.

Fast forward a couple of hours. Alex, Jennecca and myself were celebrating the conclusion of our media ordeal in Karina's brother's bedroom. The door was closed, as we were having a "serious talk", while everyone else banged on the door and clamoured at the window on the other side of the room, and yelled about coming in, basically acting like a pack of zombies. That's when we realised that the door was mysteriously stuck... and that none of us could open it. I tried, and then the door handle came off. Alex was hysterical. She cried. (Let me just add that she wasn't in her usual frame of mind!) Then Leo came tumbling through the window, which was an incredible feat -- okay, I've climbed through that window before, but I was completely sober... so he staggered to his feet and despite our belief that he had come to help us, he was also shocked to learn that we were locked in. Which begs the question, why did he climb through the window? Did he feel left out?

So anyway, then Bridget climbed through the window. I don't think she knew we were locked in either, I reckon she just went to where the commotion was. I vaguely remember Jennecca shouting, "GET OUT, YOU'RE STEALING ALL OUR OXYGEN!" It truly was like a zombie invasion.

Apparently Renee or Carl came to the rescue by jiggling something in the hole where the handle used to be, and we poured out like prisoners being released. And that concludes the story of The Time We Got Stuck In A Room.

The rest of the party went really well, and when everyone had ditched and gone to Zac's or something, Karina and I ate all the leftover sausage rolls, brushed our teeth, and went to bed. The next morning we surfaced earlyish and began the cleanup/breakfast process. There was a slight problem with a lack of eggs -- due to an incident the night before in which Jono opened the fridge too vigorously and broke all of them -- so that was resolved by Renee, Laurielle and Alex going to Foodtown in their bedraggled morning-after states, complete with onesies and mugs of coffee. Oh, and there was also a mysterious stain on the ceiling, which caused Karina's mother much distress! We still don't know what it was.

So then at 12 I met Alex and Jennecca at BurgerFuel in town for a dissection of the night's events and an awesome lunch, and that's all that really happened on Saturday...

Sunday was my cousin Roy's 16th family birthday party so I helped out all day preparing for that. I made this double-layered dark chocolate cake with chocolate ganache, and set out the lollies and chips in the bowls, (I love doing that!), and basically acted as kitchen assistant to my folks. The food was a-ma-zing that night, including crème caramel made by my auntie Suzie, a pot roast made by my father, and of course my cake. A select few at school can testify to the tastiness of the latter!

Then as we were sitting around talking, the subject of careers came up, and the question came up, "if you could start over, what job would you want to do?" Obviously this was aimed at all the adults.

My uncle Chris said he would have been a musician. "Probably playing the keyboard, synth... back in the 70s, that prog rock scene..." It makes perfect sense as he's always been passionate about collecting and listening to music. He has hundreds of LPs, CDs and mp3s.

Julie only had one thing to say, "Not teaching!" Whereas my mum said she would have done just the same (bless her, I knew she would say that), though probably getting into specialist classroom teaching earlier.

Suzie said she would have been a vet. I'm not at all surprised. She has always been an animal lover. Currently they have two golden retrievers and two cats, and there have been many other animals before. She would have been an excellent vet.

My dad's answer was the one that surprised me and interested me the most. He said he would have liked to do something with his hands, like being a cabinetmaker or doing restoration or something. I never would have thought. It's such a far cry from teaching geography.

It really made me think about my own future. I realised that my ambitions are so huge but I must pursue them, because I don't want to go down a path that diverges so far from my original passions. I don't mean to say that I think my parents and aunties and uncle have wasted their lives or chosen the "wrong" careers, at all. I just don't want to reach that stage of my life and be able to say I wished I could have done something else. I suppose I mean I'd like to have the same feeling about my career as my mum does for hers. That would surely be an accomplishment.

95

Today was great because:

- I woke up to my alarm which was set to the sound of "crickets" -- and didn't go back to sleep! That may have been partly due to the nightmare I'd just had about a burglar in my bedroom, but it's still probably the first time that has happened all year. So crickets are a winner, I think I'll try that again.

- I wrote a to-do list at the beginning of the day and managed to complete all three tasks on it.

- Two people from Elam art school (attached to Auckland University where I plan to go next year) came to our painting class and told us all about the courses, which sound amazing, and made me look forward to it immensely. The best thing about it is when you do your first year, you get to sample all different art forms, like sculpture, film, design, painting, photography... exactly the kinds of things I'd love to explore.

- I walked to the pet shop after school and asked about part-time work. It could be a possibility. Not that I'm really getting my hopes sky-high... you know what it's like. I've got this job jinx.

Anyway I must go. Tomorrow I shall update thoroughly on the events of the weekend. I am formulating a lengthy post in my head.

99

That's the countdown now. I know several people are upset with me for reminding them so frequently how many days are left but they will have to deal with it. =P Hi Nandita.

Tonight is Karina's 18th! It's a glow-in-the-dark party. She bought 300 glowsticks for $16.

We got excellence for our documentary! Tomorrow I'm going to BurgerFuel with Jennecca and Alex to celebrate. BurgerFuel kept us going in the early stages... we're repaying them with our patronage. I am really hungry right now actually and BurgerFuel would really hit the spot. Hm.

So yeah I think it's a fairly full weekend, might update on Sunday night. CIAO.

My Ruminations On Life, And What I'm Presently Doing

The countdown is at 102 days. I'll be super excited when it gets into double digits.

Last night I went to bed too late after having a big "discussion" with my parents, and then performing my nightly ritual (a quick/not-so-quick game of Plants vs Zombies on my iPod) which quickly became rather addictive as I passed a few new levels. I actually think I'm developing a bit of RSI in my right hand, because the tendons feel funny and sore. Maybe that's what we're destined for, as the texting/internetting generation! Oh dear! So many exciting new evolutionary issues we are yet to face. Another thing I can complain about is my sore back, which is largely to do with appalling posture, which is due to tiredness, which is due to lack of sleep, which is due to... Plants vs Zombies. That game will be the slow, painful crippling of me.

So I got out of bed very late, giving myself twenty minutes to get ready and go next door (my neighbour is a family friend, and she takes us to school on her way to work to relieve my dad) which was pushing it a little, especially as I was so zombified from my meagre five hours or something. Five hours may be an insomniac's dream, but to the average teenager, it's torture. I got myself some breakfast, which consisted of leftover berries from Linda's birthday brunch the day before, and some Greek yoghurt. So then I sort of chucked things in my bag and went next door, and waited for Luke, who always ends up arriving about ten minutes after me, when I suddenly remembered -- the berries had been soaked in sherry. So that was why I was feeling that funny sensation in my legs that I associate with alcohol. How scandalous, I thought. Sherry for breakfast.

I got to school feeling exhausted already, and found Eva, and we talked animatedly about something or other -- Jessi Slaughter, perhaps, and how her old best friend had got a nipple piercing -- and then we went to our respective form classes and listened to our teachers announce Maori Language Week with their appalling failing Maori pronunciation and their feeble promises of going into a draw to win a movie ticket if you are heard using Maori words throughout the week. I mean seriously, how unexciting. I have become dreadfully cynical over my years at high school. I find it amusing when people get enthusiastic about house points and assembly presentations. You know, cause I'm like, so indie.

So first period I had design, nothing much happened, and then I had French, same again -- oh except Nandita told me a wonderful thing, right Nando? Wink wink in your direction. And of course it was nice seeing Jennecca, and pretending to be totally engaged and interested in the lesson. Actually I lie, I was a little interested. The topic we're studying at the moment is racism and religion in France, mostly around the Muslim dress code and surrounding controversy. Brings up a lot of interesting issues about freedom, oppression, women's rights and respect for other cultures. A very complex issue, though.

Then it was interval, and I sat with Eva and poured out my little packet of scroggin and divided it into categories: raisins, cranberries, banana chips, dried apricot, peanuts, cashews, almonds and dark chocolate drops. There were about seven dark chocolate drops. It was the best day of my life.

We had English next, and it was interesting because Helen told me something crazy, and then we re-watched and analysed 'Rain' which is a brilliant little New Zealand film with themes of nymphet-ism and alcoholism and seventies-dancing-ism. I think film study is always my favourite part of the English curriculum. Yes. It even beats creative writing. Which isn't hard because NCEA manages to make creative writing lame and rather uncreative.

Then it was a long trek across the corridor to E12 where we have media studies. Rewiti did not share our marks for our documentaries with us -- instead he screened the films for the class and we all watched each other's work (ie. our lives for the past two months) and that was very cool. It was an immense feeling of pride watching our final product play on a biggish screen. Nice work Alex and Jennecca. We are great.

So then it was lunch time, the best part of the day, and thinking ahead, I texted Dad and asked him to pick me up as soon as possible after school. After a lifetime of getting home at around five it's such a luxury to be picked up at three thirty like the normal kids. I had painting last, and Helen and I just sat and planned my eighteenth birthday party. Which, by the way, my mum has been having ideas about for about three years, so... it's going to be classy. Only around two months to go!

Yep I just gave you a full overview of my day, excluding the part when I came home, watched Rosemary Shrager's School For Cooks with my mum, then had dinner and watched the Graham Norton Show with the family, then came here to talk about myself to an audience of three people. Hi guys.

Now finally I will share a performance/song with you that has been in my head since last week's episode of I'd Do Anything: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLRk366dUnM

She's pretty gorgeous.

Albany Mall

is a foreign place, way out there in the north of Auckland. I liked it, a nice change from Sylvia Park's familiarity. It made me realise, though, wandering around for a while, that there is very little out in the world worth buying (in my eyes) as I trawled listlessly through the clothing racks finding nothing desirable. Why is chain-store fashion so generic and tacky? All the ambitious, avant-garde designer ideas paraded on the catwalk are ridiculous when brought down to the average consumer level. Current trends seem to include fake lace, netting, two-tone floral leotard-type dresses, "body-con" stretch fabric, various types of patterned and textured leggings, faux fur, truckloads of leather jackets, shapeless woollen jerseys mimicking the kinds of things you find in so-called op-shops on K Rd for the same price, and still the insufferable high-waisted denim shorts that have haunted society since summer 2008. What is going on?

114 Days

until the last official day of school for seniors. 140 days until my last exam (it's always French) and the last time I will ever set foot in Mt Roskill Grammar as a student.

Today I Might Go On A Solitary Adventure

including a visit to the Hard-to-Find bookstore and Cornwall Park.

All Right, That's It

No more days of utter non-productivity. I must do things or I'll feel that I've wasted my holiday!

Here At Last

The holidays. The first official day. I am in my bedroom with the window open, the winter sun and breeze coming in, listening to the Bright Star soundtrack which seems to fit perfectly.

The ball was fantastic, the afterball was fantastic, everything went well. Finally we finished our documentary on Friday afternoon. I feel partly relaxed. Never entirely. This music is soothing and saddening. I think I want to go to the library and get out twenty books and read them all in a week, like I used to do when I was 13, 14. Today I might watch The Cove.

The film festival starts on the eighth. I'm so keen to go to as many as I can afford...

Um Wow

It just hit me properly that it's the last day of term two tomorrow. We've just about finished our film, just got to record and put in the voiceover and we're done. We have done so amazingly well considering the huuuge tragedy that happened last week. Good job Alex O'Connor and Jennecca Evalu! And I am fully confident that we will get the results we deserve.

Then thankfully I'm also finishing off two pesky written internals in French and English. English is the creative writing one but it's so bloody hemmed-in I can't stand it. Typical of NCEA to turn something creative into something so formulaic. And the French is also a bit of a farce. I'll be glad to get them over with.

I decided tonight to wear my antique fur stole to the ball as well, following the Narnia theme. It's very beautiful and precious, since it was passed down to me by my auntie Trish who recently passed away. I'm also wearing the locket she gave me, that belonged to my grandmother, and holds a picture of my dad's dad when he was 17 years old.

So we're nearly there. Even when I do get to the holidays however, I have a whole pile of art to do to prepare for working on folio boards and resubmitting. I think I blather on about my assessments a lot, and repeat myself endlessly, but I think when I'm feeling stressed and overwhelmed I draw and write a lot of to-do lists and planners and summarise tasks to keep track of them and pin them down in the swirling mess that is my mind.

Also, watched I'd Do Anything tonight, Tara was FINALLY eliminated. Silly tart couldn't hold a note, what was she doing there? I like Niahm most, but since when is a name spelled like that pronounced like "Neev"?

The Final Countdown

Yeah so I think I just got that song in your heads, am I right?

Feeling a bit unhealthy right now after having been on this healthy eating frenzy, and then completely lapsing in the weekend and today. Funny how that works out. Problem is, most of the day is spent doing media now, which means staying seated at a computer in every spare moment and it makes you feel lazy.

Anyway, learning the error of my ways, I am going to get back to drinking heaps more water (I think I'm more tired without it?) and eating lots of the good raw stuff. Also, I should go to sleep early tonight, and not play Plants vs. Zombies till 12:30 a.m.

Oh yeah and I gave blood today. It was really smooth sailing, I didn't feel lightheaded at all. And Eva made it through after I coached her, held her hand, and distracted her with my rambling. I am very proud of her! Loads of people fainted and went super pale and needed cloths on their foreheads. I feel quite brave knowing I can even look at the needle and the blood and not be worried at all. Leo was funny, he gave as well, and we were rigged up at the same time, he was in the chair next to me. He claimed they had to get a bigger pressure cuff for him because his biceps are so big. The nurse laughed just as doubtfully as I did. She was nice, her name was Jill, and she liked me and said I had beautiful veins and that she'd like to adopt me. Leo and I had a race to see who could get all their blood out first and he won by a minute, clocking in at 5 minutes. To be fair though, he had a head start, because mine was a bit slow coming out at first. We all know who the true winner is.

So it's Tuesday night and the ball is on Saturday. Exciting. I love my dress. I'll post photos of me in it after the event. You know you wanna see. Yep.

Okay well I'm feeling generous and sort of good. If you're reading this, have a bit of my love. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Alrighty

So, full on. Two weeks left. Less than. Got to finish our film. Utter priority. Will think about art resubs in the holidays. Booked hair & makeup appointments for the ball. Dress will be completed and dropped off by the lovely Marcelle tomorrow! & now I have to gooo.

I Was Too Busy Worrying

And yesterday I forgot to mention that I got my first excellence EVER in art, for a six-credit internal... YEAH BABY. Even if I'm only recording this for future reference so I can look back and think aw, I was so pleased.

To Stay On Track

I am going to post every day this week. It might remind me to stay focused on finishing things and not to wish the days away without getting work done.

I am presently feeling upset and sad and emotional. I think there are a lot of pressures around the time of the ball, including pressures to attend pre-balls and after-balls. It seems strange that all of my closest friends are going to different events. I wish it were a case of simply gathering all my favourite people together in my house and being able to share this experience with my family too, (my mum especially, as I know she would love to be able to have some part in it). As it is, I am caught in a painful dilemma.

I just went and kissed Mum goodnight and she said "it'll all come out in the wash," which is funnily an expression Helen often uses -- and it looks like she might be the only one who's going to be at my place if I choose to get ready at home rather than going elsewhere. Maybe it's a sign!

So a pre-ball is one thing, the snacks, the getting ready, the photos taken by squinting fathers against a makeshift backdrop. But the afterball is a party, right? I don't know if I'm cut out for a partying lifestyle... last year, after the ball, I was so knackered it was a relief to simply have a small sleepover with more food and talk. On the one night of the year that I wear heels, I doubt I'll be able to keep them on much past midnight... For anyone who agrees with me, the offer is there to stay over at mine!

I really do hope it works itself out. I know that some people reading this might think it's all pretty trivial. But it's supposed to be one of those special nights in your life, and for all the money and preparation, it has to be worthwhile.

Three Weeks

...until the end of term, and the ball, and holidays. We have to finish our documentary before that, though. So I'm not wishing the time away, exactly... I'd also love to get my art internals all finished and resubmitted so they don't carry over into term three, when we'll be starting 3.3 -- can't believe I'll be making my last NCEA art submission ever in a matter of months.

Today I went to DressSmart and had a very successful shopping trip with Roz & Helen. I bought gold, not-too-high heels from Wild Pair for $30, and a little gold sequined purse to match for $11. I also found this gorgeous long wool coat in Creem (the shop where I bought my ball dress last year, it has some lovely stuff) and I called Dad and said "I know this isn't what I came here for, but, I do need a winter coat..." and because he is so kind he let me use his money and buy it. I know. I've been spoilt.

A friend of the family, Marcelle, (whose husband was the one who played matchmaker between my parents!) has very very kindly offered to make my ball dress. So yesterday we went to Centrepoint Fabrics in Newmarket and bought a pattern and material. I ended up buying something totally different to what I initially thought I wanted -- but I am super pleased with my choices and can't wait to see the dress start to take shape. Tickets for the ball go on sale this week on Monday and Tuesday -- year thirteens (rightly) take priority and so that's another expensive day, but of course, well worth it.

I've been watching a lot of the series Dollhouse on the recommendation of a friend, and while I'm enjoying it, I can see why it was rated so badly and was eventually cancelled. I mean, let's be honest, Eliza Dushku cannot act. The role really requires extreme versatility, after all, she has to take on different personalities sometimes multiple times in a single episode. But as an actress, Dushku doesn't seem to be able to dig any deeper, and often doesn't convincingly "transform". A few of the other performances are pretty flimsy, too. However it's forgivable, because the idea is pretty fascinating. And I'm enjoying having a series to follow. I suppose I could always go back and watch season one of House. Aww! So much has changed...

My to-do list is so massive. Thankfully I've checked off some of the ball-related things this weekend, and yesterday in town we had a really good filming session, but there's still heaps to do. I'm praying for a burst of energy and motivation this week.

All right well I have to go and clean the bathroom now. Then I'll have dinner (I'm sure it will be delicious -- Nana is chopping up vegetables to be roasted) and attempt to do something productive, and I suppose after that I'll go to bed. And another week will come.

Commenters

Please don't ALL be anonymous. It's scary.

Okay Well That Sucked

I had an English exam & I am going to forget about it now.

Champing At The Bit

Roll on Friday, when I will be deadline and exam-free.

I figure that, of late, I have not been performing my duty and updating you, followers & readers, on the happenings of year 13. So basically, here we are, week something-rather of term two. It is one of what I deem to be the Three Great Bottlenecks which occur during the school year. The entire first term is basically quite breezy -- sure, they put a little bit of pressure on ya, just to keep you focused -- and the occasional internal assessment manages to provoke a little bit of customary school-related stress here and there -- but overall it's a walk in the park. Then you go on holiday for a couple of weeks, and forget to do any of that planned "preparatory work" that you decided would put you in a comfy position in time for exams. All is well and good when you return, except a slight nagging sense of impending doom. This nagging sensation grows and, by week six or... is it seven... exams are suddenly upon you. And by upon you, I mean straddling you, slamming your forehead into a computer screen (filled with various websites which are all quite unrelated to any of your subjects) and screaming "DEADLINES!"

Because, if you're a bleeding fool like me, this is also the time when all the art subjects decide to have major assignments due. As I am taking both painting AND design, I have 20 credits' worth of work due on Wednesday & Thursday... that's a third of the (minimum) amount of credits I have to get this year. Plus these stupid mock exams. And the thing is, I can't even cast them off as insignificant, because they may end up counting towards something.

So after I've handed in all my assignment work and done my three exams, (media, English, French) consisting of a total of five essays, we will enter Lull Number Two, a deceptive window between Bottleneck One and Bottleneck Two. For us media students, it will be filled with an ongoing, consistently vague panic over trying to finish our documentaries. In art, we will no doubt begin our end-of-year portfolios at a dangerously leisurely pace, misjudging the length of time until the final, massive deadline at the end of term three. For some reason, even though this is my third year of doing art, I know it will be the same... It always, always is.

I thought that I would dread the end of high-school but I don't feel that way anymore. I am ready to leave. That doesn't mean I won't feel nostalgic and cry heaps throughout that last week of term four! But it does mean that I'm "over it" in a sense, and I guess I am looking forward to some changes. Some.

My life plan has gone through a trial period of a few months' thinking and thus I have reached a conclusion (I think) which entails going Auckland University next year and doing a conjoint degree in arts and fine arts. I will do the first semester and then travel for the second. I think I have already mentioned this in several places throughout this blog, but you know. Changes come.

Women Of The World

You should know that my brother Luke is a very desirable, considerate, multi-talented young man to have around. The acid test is in the boy's reaction to a situation such as when, for example, a girl has cramps that could knock a moose over, (nature's way of saying "You think this is bad, wait till you give birth"), and returns home from her friend's sister's wedding early because she thinks she might hurl on their immaculately decorated tables. Okay, so that's not just an example. Now Luke's reaction was not to retreat, attempting to rid himself of the nightmarish, mysterious visions that most poor males must conjure when faced with the idea of a girl's monthly "cycle" -- but instead, he offered me a bacon sandwich, a hot water bottle, and a milo. Which I gratefully accepted of course, getting straight into bed. How wonderful is that? And he's only fourteen. Imagine how much more sensitive and thoughtful and kind he will yet become. So if you're looking for a man, remember your standards, ladies. Don't settle for anything less.

Back Online

So I took a week off the Internet, for experimental purposes. I had hoped it would make me more productive -- in fact I spent ages re-organising iTunes: ascribing album art to songs and artists that didn't have any, deleting repeat songs and sorting out playlists. I organised all my saved files, found some writing scraps and reminded myself that not all of my old poetry was bad. (To qualify as "old", a piece of writing needs only to have been written two weeks ago.) I didn't, however, make much headway into my work.

Exactly two weeks from today, I have exams. These are just "practice" exams, or mid-years, but unfortunately I also have four massive art assignments (worth 20 credits in total) due at the same time. Today I am feeling not-so-bad about that, as I did three backgrounds for paintings today. But don't let that fool you... there's a lot more to do.

Not to mention our documentary, which we are now filming. Apparently we have to finish filming before exams (two weeks!) which is very likely not going to happen... After school we will be going into the city centre to interview passers-by on social networking and how our lives are becoming increasingly "virtual". Hopefully we get a lot of useful stuff, and the weather/technology doesn't crap out on us.

Alright, so if I was able to exercise the will to avoid the Internet for seven days, surely I can will myself to write those practice essays, go on a painting frenzy, make some awesome design work, and I don't know, be generally amazing. Surely.

Patron Saint Of Motivation, Please Help Me

All the things I have to do by tomorrow are very urgent.

So Today, I Succumbed

to the temptation that has been calling me for a few weeks now. Eva and I went to the cinema (with lots of LAHLEES) and we watched Dear John. Now before you judge me, I'll have you know that my taste in films is really good! It is! I'm into arty film-festival films, I like espionage thrillers, I like films with subtitles! So allow me this, this one romantic drama tear-jerker. By the same guy who wrote The Notebook... (which I also loved.)

And I'm not about to hide the fact that I cried. I cried so hard! (And Eva.) And if you scoff at that or smugly nurse feelings of condescension, then I encourage you to go and watch it. And if you're the type who doesn't cry at movies then clearly you have no soul, and I can't help you with that.

After A Million Things Have Happened

It seems like months since I last updated this blog. For those of you who know, there's been a lot going on, but I felt I should just update it to acknowledge how surreal and blurred the past two weeks have been. Thank you to those who have been in touch, I really appreciate your love.

Might update in more detail at a later date. In the meantime, I have been writing poems on my writing website so feel free to read those instead.

P.S. Does anyone have any idea why my Blogger profile says that I am 18 when in fact I'm 17? I've tried changing it but it carries on telling lies.

It's About Time, Maybe

One of the most nerve-wracking things one can do is bid on an online auction for something they really want when the auction has about twenty minutes to go. And someone is bound to be waiting, ready to pounce at the very last second. How cruel. The refresh button keeps calling.

So in... seventeen minutes, I may or may not have a new black blazer for $15. The same kind of black blazer that is currently going for around $70-80 in the clothing chain stores. I think my frugality is to be admired.

However, cool thing, we sold our couch and DVD player today, and because I arranged the deal I got 25% - this is partly because my parents pity me and my poorness.

ARGH TWELVE MINUTES.

Anyway, the actual reason I decided to write this blog was to go "omg" because this is the second to last week of term one, and after all the point of this blog is to document where school is at, not my wardrobe or my funds. Sooo, yeah it's okay. I have a French internal next week, on Wednesday and Thursday (evil, I know, in the last week, but it's better than the first week back). And also four art assignments on the go, as I'm taking painting AND design, so I get a double dose of research/drawing assignments. But those are actually really interesting, I love love love contemporary urban art. Believe it or not, there's so much more to it than graffiti. Let me point you to the wonderful Dan Baldwin, whose work I have (attempted) to emulate as part of the process of "breaking down and understanding the works of an artist model" - I'll post my experiment paintings on my art Tumblr later.

SEVEN SEVEN SEVEN MINUTES.

NOW FIVE.

Okay, I'm going to keep this blog post open until I know whether I've won or not.

*goes off and does other things*

*i.e. clicking refresh fanatically*

Oh my gosh. Two minutes. C'est insupportable.

SOME TOSSER JUST PLACED A BID. NOW THE AUCTION EXTENDS.

48 seconds can't beear itttttt

I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON.

Thank you for living through this with me.

What About Thy Neighbour?

You've heard the story
You know how it goes
Once upon a garden
We were lovers with no clothes

Fresh from the soil
We were beautiful and true
In control of our emotions
'Til we ate the poison fruit

And now it's hard to be
Hard to be
Hard to be a decent human being.

- David Bazan, 'Hard To Be'

On my street, living over the road from me, there are two families. On the right, at number 25, are the Parkers -- Mr and Mrs Parker, and their four sons. They're a white, middle-class, christian family, involved in the YWAM (Youth With A Mission) organisation down the road. We have lived opposite them for about ten years.

The house on the left, number 27, is home to a large family of Afghani refugees. They are a muslim family, not at all wealthy, and their children go to the local school. At one stage, there were about fourteen people living in the average-sized suburban house. They have lived there for about five years.

A couple of years ago, when my parents decided to put down paving stones beside the house, the Afghani boys and their father were over like a flash. They brought their slightly uncertain smiles and their hardworking generosity, and within an hour or so, the job was done.

In the evening, the middle daughter, Fatimeh, brought over warm, Afghani-style flatbread, with a smile and her long winter coat and her hand-me-down ensemble of clothes in the hot evening sun. It was not the first nor the last time that they would bring over food, or gifts from father's trips back home.

Countless small kindnesses have passed between our two families over the past years. We sponsored Fatimeh to go to a better intermediate school -- she fed and visited our cat religiously and collected the mail and watered the plants when we went on holiday. They borrowed our lawnmower, we gave them our childhood bicycles. And all the while, the Parkers went about their lives, busy with their churches or their jobs or whatever they did, the boys in the driveway, having loud and juvenile shouting matches with their father while packing the car to go to their christian music festivals.

And then my mum's illness began to get worse, and my dad began to have to transfer her from the car to the chair each morning and evening, and vice versa -- a change that was plain for anyone to see, especially those living in perfect line of sight. And if ever the Afghanis were on their driveway in the afternoons, from time to time, one of them would be sure to make the crossing over the road, offering forth their broken English. "Not good, not good," they would say, gesturing at Mum concernedly -- "We very angry for you."

But the Parkers, all throughout the past five years of Mum's deterioration, have never said a word. Barely a hello, let alone any kind of expression of concern or neighbourly interest. While they busily go about their church lives, evangelising and enabling and supporting missionaries off all around the world, it seems that they have forgotten the most basic christian ideal. Loving thy neighbour.

It's not as if it's difficult. No-one can offer a cure for suffering, nor try to explain it away. There is no justifying what my family is facing -- three terminal illnesses. People have said to Mum, "It's not God's will that you're this way." That just makes me angry. It is a redundant platitude. When you are suffering, and it is something beyond your control, you don't need people to tell you that it's all some cosmic mistake. How are we ever going to know why things happen the way they do? The act of simply noticing, acknowledging, and expressing regret is enough.

We're united by our collective ignorance, our common suffering. And when you strip it away, all you can do is love your god, and love people. I don't know about the rest. Maybe, today, I don't really want to.

A Day In The Life

Year 13 camp was the best camp I've ever been on in my liiiife, and that's a lot of camps, including various Easter camps, Soul Survivor, Parachute (okay maybe not Parachute '08, that was actually freakin' amazing) and of course heaps of school camps over the years. At around 9am on Monday the 1st of March, 180 of us went to Half Moon Bay on the bus. When we arrived we discovered that our ferry was having engine problems, and that we would have to wait two hours for the Waiheke ferry to arrive. So we all hung around the rich peoples' lawns and looked out over the harbour, and put on sunscreen and ate. Finally we were able to board the ferry and about half an hour later we had arrived on Motutapu Island, which is really not that far away, but the fact that it's an island somehow lends it a sense of isolation and awesomeness.

So we loaded our luggage onto a truck, and then began a six kilometre walk on a gravel track that went up and down through the dry sunny hills. (We thought we had it rough, but on our returning walk before we went home, we passed Rangitoto College, with ALL of their luggage on their backs. Thank you, Roskill, for having mercy on us.)

When we finally got to the camp, an ex-military camp nestled down by one of the beaches, the head instructor or overseer (who calls himself Troll, which is a thoroughly appropriate name) proceeded to give us a sort of warning/introduction lecture regarding matters such as sun protection. Away from the smog of the city, the hole in the ozone is a bigger problem, and temperatures go into the 30s. Troll claimed to have spent time dealing to girls with blisters on their shoulders the size of his fist, thus it is a camp rule that no one is permitted to go around during daytime with exposed shoulders. The punishment for that offence as well as the usual alcohol/drugs ban was an even longer 10.5km walk, with luggage, in the hot sun, alone, to the ferry. Funnily enough, people were really well-behaved at this camp.

So then we just launched straight into activities - our first one was the Survivor Challenge, which was a kind of assault course with two forts on either side, and you challenge another team. One of the obstacles is a cargo net that you have to crawl under, and I sacrificed comfort for technique, resulting in bleeding knees within the first half hour of our activity. I must admit I actually felt pretty ruthless. =p

And then we did Waka Ama, which is a kind of long canoe that fits eight people, and you all paddle, and it has an arm out to the left which stabilises it. We had to race the other team and we won, because Mr. Cornes, who was the teacher on our boat, has actually represented New Zealand in that very sport. Strange what you learn.

I'll just go through and list the other activities and give a short description.

Art - screenprinting t-shirts with designs to remind us of our camp.

Snorkelling - self-explanatory. We went down to a part of the beach called Stingray Alley but I saw no stingrays. Snorkelling out at Goat Island is far better... all we saw was a little group of snapper.

Kayaking - awesome fun. Paddled out to a little rocky island then played some games in the water. This was when the moment with Swanwick happened - if you've heard about the cicada incident, this is where it was at.

Sailing - omg. So fun and hilarious yet so frustrating. I would really really like to try it again with better instructions. MR. HORNE.

High ropes - let's not talk about this one. I climbed to the top of the centipede which is a sort of hanging pole with staples and footholds in it, and then I also climbed to the top of the wooden pole that connects up to the high beam. But there was no way I was walking over the top.

SEAL challenge - as in Navy Seals. Lol. A kayak was placed on the sand, we had to dig a hole underneath it to fit the entire group underneath the kayak and out the other side, without talking, without tools, and without touching the kayak. Every time someone slipped up, we had to run down to the water and do whatever the sadistic instructor requested - for example, lying down in the shallows (which were rocky, and covered in pointy razor-sharp oyster shells) and rolling three times to the left, three to the right... sit-ups, singing the national anthem... whole group going underwater... Then once we'd all climbed through we had to fill the hole under the kayak with water and all of us had to go through the water underneath. After all that, we had to play a game transporting pieces of a puzzle down a field without talking and without moving with the pieces. Then we had to carry our kayak through the swamp. Yes, so much fun.

Archery - again, it's obvious.

Confidence Course - destroys your confidence.

Beach Games - a failure of an activity. One game was "frisbee golf" in the grassy hills. Most of the time, me and Nic and Jono and Nandita were just looking for our damned frisbees. Then we played Invaders on the beach, which sort of petered out.

Pump - we had this last, on the last day. Hahaaaaa omg. The idea is light weights, loads of reps. We were flattened after that.

Raft-building - ours floated! We won.

Annnnd that's it I think. Ah wow. It was pretty amazing really. And all the good times at mealtimes when we sat out on the deck and just talked and joked, and then the skit night was great. I was relieved when it came to an end but also sad. It's one of the highlights of the year and now it's gone.

Except now I think I'm thoroughly at peace with the idea of leaving school. It has become tired - the routine is old and repetitive and nothing is new. That's not to say at all that I'm not going to absolutely make the most of this year - just that I will not feel a desire to stay at school.

In terms of changes to my future plans, I have been talking with my family and I think things will go as follows:

In December this year and January/February of next year I will work my butt off and earn lotsa money. Then in March I will go to Auckland Uni and start a conjoint BA/BfA degree. Then in June when the first semester ends, I will go to England as I have planned to for a long time, and spend a couple of months there - spending some time in Bristol and also having the Europe experience - visiting my exchange student friends whom I won't have seen for two years, and some family around France and Switzerland. It's nowhere near as long as I planned to go for, but with recent developments in my family, I know that there is all the time in the world for me to travel and "follow my dreams", whereas at this stage in my life I need to be here with/for my family as much as possible. After I come back I will work for the remainder of the year and into 2012, then resume my degree where I left off. Aaaaahh it's all so exciting and confusing and I really hope it all works out. I always knew my plans would have to change, thank God I'm such a flexible person. It has not yet put me into a tailspin. I think I'm okay with it all.

Does anyone even read this blog? Hahaha.

The Day Before I Depart

Tomorrow is Year 13 camp, wow. I hadn't thought about it at all really until this weekend. I'm all packed and everything, and excited. Nervous about the high-ropes course and the rock-climbing (aagh, heights!) but you know, it's all about conquering fears and everything. *looks unconvinced*

So I won't be contactable via text or internet until Friday, which is cool, some good old-fashioned socialising may occur. But we are also advised to leave behind our ipods, oh noeees, no music for five days! =0 Except we will make our own music, as I'm sure Jono and K and Nic will bring their guitars and I will take my newly-recovered voice (begone, niggling cough) and it'll be nice.

Some interesting changes to my future plans have taken place due to circumstances in the family... I think I will blog about them when I come back. Also, I no longer work at the Mad Butcher, partly due to being treated awfully and the fact that I couldn't justify the distance with the amount I was being paid. I hadn't even been given a contract so it was fairly simple to just up and leave. So some alternatives have come up and I'm okay with that.

Miss me ridiculously, folks.

Day Eighteen?? Nineteen... screw it.

OH WOW.

I have the best friends in the world.


After a truly shitty week, which believe me is to do with more than just the job and the phone, Eva came up to me this morning with a little brown paper envelope with KATIE - (we love you!) written on it in silver pen, and I opened it up and INSIDE WAS A VAMPIRE WEEKEND TICKET, which might I add, I had given up hope on as I knew I couldn't afford it. And wow, I mean I almost bawled, I was speechless really. I am so, so thankful. So here I come, April 29th, and I'm so excited, and did you know the tickets have since sold out??



If you contributed to it and you're reading this: thank you. It is one of the most lovely things that has ever happened to me.

Day Seventeen (I think?)

It hasn't been a good week.

My phone broke on Tuesday night. It has been an old faithful - I think I've had this one longer than any of my others. It was a trusty cheap Nokia, and it withstood a lot of stress in its lifetime. I hadn't had a normal day until I'd dropped it at LEAST once, usually as I got out of the car forgetting it had been in my lap.

Alas, on Tuesday night it threw up an error message saying "TEST MODE" and refused to turn on or off. I removed the battery and the simcard, (after tearing through the layers of sellotape holding the simcard in place and the back cover on), put them both back in, and it seemed to work again. Once before I had had an emergency moment when I dropped it in the shower (don't ask)... while the water was running... and it did a bit of a flip-out. But with my super-skills I convinced it to work again, much in the same way that you talk a small child out of crying when they hurt themselves, saying "There now, don't be silly, you're not bleeding." *dab dab*

So we had been through a lot together, my phone and I. And I was not willing to give up on her now. But then the dreaded "Charger not accepted" (or something similar) message came up, and when I googled this one, it appeared that it was fatal.

So I then proceeded to use the family hand-me-down "homeless phone" (to quote Alex) which turns off literally every five minutes. And nowwww I'm using a phone that Karina found at Splore. Dad kindly said he will buy me a new cheap Nokia, and that is very nice of him, as the last time they bought me a phone they said it would be the last they'd pay for. But since this isn't really my fault and phones don't have that long a shelf life anyway, clearly they feel it's okay. Oh, God, where would I be without my parents. =/

There is something else I ought to post here about the Mad Butcher job, but I will wait until after a key event has occurred... It's not great news, guys. A clue: it's my response to being paid $32.50 for six hours' work. Do that mathematical equation, baby.

Day Eleven

Oh, wow. What a day. It started off slow, but it picked up momentum. We had the swimming carnival today, I was helping out in fifth period. It was so awesome cheering on orange house rather than being subjected to the slightly miserable task of staggering through that decidedly UNSANITARY pool over and over again. I felt like we'd finally earned the right to dance wildly to all the songs over the loudspeaker and act like fools yet still feel cooler than the young 'uns.

After school I had work again. Okay, this sucks: I'm not getting minimum wage ($12.50/hr) until I've done like THREE MONTHS of work there. That means I'll be on something like $9.60. I didn't know this was legal! How is it fair? I'm already proficient, and I'm not doing anything less than the other workers. I haven't even been given my uniform or badge yet. My boss doesn't even know my bank details!

But otherwise, it's totally fine. And seemingly, people in Roskill South love their freakin' pigs' heads. When I told my grandpa-in-law's brother (confusing relationship right there) about my new job and the pigs' parts particularly, he proceeded to tell me of the "old times" in England when folks would buy a whole pigs' head and tell the butcher, "Oh, leave in the eyes, it'll see me through the week." I forced a laugh, a whole one.

I try not to judge people, as I'm standing at the till and ringing up the various items, but it's hard not to. And often, what people buy just seems to be a reflection on them.

Maybe I should start listing my Favourite Customers for how easy they were to talk to and be friendly to. You know how some people automatically emit a sort of openness to smiles and small-talk and comments about the weather, and some make you sort of shrink and go "So how was your day?" as a tentative afterthought in that awkward interim between their entering their pin and the receipt (thankfully) slipping out...? Well today their were plenty of the latter, and a few who were just really nice and who seemed to be pleased I was talking to them. There was a guy who bought (surprise surprise) pigs' heads, but he was quick to inform me that they were for his pit-bull terriers. (The image of two pit-bulls tearing about those dull-eyed, fatty masses was ever-so-slightly nightmarish.) I remarked about how they'd love the treat, and asked how many dogs he had, and he said two, and that one was part-Alsatian. I was thinking Oh, thank God, some redeeming feature I can be genuinely enthusiastic about.
"I love Alsatians! I used to have one. They're such intelligent dogs."

The thing is, it's really a basic skill, to be able to interact with people in a genuine way. I hate it when people in shops treat you as just another transaction, someone to greet perfunctorily, take money from, give receipts to, pack goods for. Though I'll acknowledge that it can be hard when things get busy to remember to smile and to make eye contact and to be efficient yet not snatchy or brusque, I also think all those things are really really important. In the same way, the customer shouldn't act as if the shop-worker is non-existent, and nor should they act almost slightly affronted by any attempts at engaging them in conversation or making them feel at ease.

I will probably continue to ruminate on this subject, since it's all quite newish to me and everything. But it's interesting, probably the only interesting thing about the job, what I'm learning about people.

Day Ten

IT WAS SO SO HOT TODAY, GROSS.

I found out today I can't be in 'film appreciation club' anymore... as it turns out I'm going to be busy on Tuesdays and Thursdays with university, Wednesdays and Fridays with work, and Mondays aren't an option because the teachers in charge can't do Mondays. Guts.

So Mondays are going to be my only free days... and working on Fridays means I won't be able to continue my much-loved tradition of going to Helen's place after school and eating and de-briefing and then going into town together to youth group. This makes me saaaad, as it's something we've done consistently since, what, Year 10? At least. I'm very sorry, Helen. =(

Today in painting, Anna and I made the most amazing artwork ever, using black, red and white ink and ink-rollers on a massive piece of A2-sized paper. We rolled it, splattered it, streaked it, covered it with stencilled circles and rings, black lines... it was so, so therapeutic and hilarious. As usual, Anna got the paint ALL over her, in the way that only she can. Including several spots on her face. She's so fun to work with, and just as passionate as I am about pushing the limits and going crazy, which makes for inspiring art sessions.

In media we're watching 'Triumph of the Will' which is this crazy 1935 propaganda film about Hitler's regime. It's disturbing how jubilant the music is, and how happy and attractive all the people in the film are, and how they all seem to LOVE working for Germany's supposed betterment. Can you believe this quote:

"Around you stand the flags and standards of this National Socialism. Only when they are threadbare will the people be able to understand, by hindsight, the greatness of our time, because of what you, my leader, mean to Germany!"

- Deputy Führer Rudolph Hess

Yes, in hindsight, now that you mention it, Hitler really WAS a great guy, aw geez, we got it all wrong. It's unimaginable that the filmmaker, Leni Riefenstahl, could have been unaware of the extreme antisemitism endorsed and propelled by Adolf Hitler, yet supposedly she was, (even when she was interviewed in the 1970s?! This is what Mr. Rewiti told us...) However in the film, there apparently is not even one reference to Jews, and only one or two references to a "pure race." It's so interesting to consider - the way they manipulated their speeches to instill this idea of making Germany the most powerful nation in the world. And all those people looked on and believed him.

Ignorance is not bliss.

Day Nine

Today we experienced another exciting perk of being a Year 13... our first study period of the year, which was fifth, so we got to go home early. Yusssss. Alas, for the prefects it meant we had to endure assembly first, in order to officially receive our prefect ties. I must admit it's rather cool, but sitting through the same assembly twice is a drag.

At the moment I'm supposed to be researching artist models for my design project. The theme that we must loosely base our assignment around is 'street art' or 'urban art', and I've found some pretty cool artists, such as Zilda and a database of similar styles, called Unurth. I really love the idea of mixing styles/media and using old Renaissance style women or much more recent Mucha-style subject matter with contemporary touches, such as the images of the goddesses and shapely classical women used by Zilda. I like mixing the feminine, delicate images with rough, dark textures and even elements of horror. I want to be slightly shocking but also beautiful.

If you find any good contemporary art websites, let me know.

Day Eight

I had a good weekend, albeit filled with lots of tangly complicated feelings. It's so freakin' humid all the time, as well, yet kind of cloudy and that's really not nice.

Today we kept watching Nanook of the North, this film made in 1922 which sort of resembles a documentary, except we're slowly learning that it's largely staged... ("Hopefully this year, you guys will become much more cynical," said Mr. Rewiti. It's happening.) But honestly, Nanook is still the man. Alex and I have decided that we need men who can build us igloos. That has officially become a prerequisite. It is an epic skill to have. Keep that in mind, men of the world.

Everything is just plain overwhelming. The great thing about taking two practical art subjects means I get to do an hour or so of art therapy every day, lol.

Nandita reminded me today that I'm going to be away at Year 13 camp for the first week of university, which means I'll miss two tuitions. My face right now is thoroughly crestfallen. What shall I doooo? I will send an email now, to the lady in charge.

Anyway, I thought there would be more to say, but oddly, there isn't. Maybe I'm forgetting some momentous occasions of the day.

Day Four

Hi blog-reader/s. If you like what you read, you should follow me, 'cause then I'll have the illusion that people are interested in hearing about my life! And if you post me a link, I will follow your blogs, too.

Onto my day. I am knackered. In a good way. I feel like I haven't sat down all day, which can't be right, since, you know, I have classes and things. Where you sit. But all the rest of the time was rather full-on.

My first day of work was from four til seven, and it wasn't bad at all. I was flustered at first, trying to remember everything, but I think I got the hang of it. It's just remembering all the unmarked grocery prices, but everyone says I'll pick that up in a week or so.

However I do NOT understand why people would want a) a whole pig's head or b) pigs' trotters. Yet those very items passed through my hands today. Purell much.

I was feeling really good about things and it was going smoothly until just before I finished my shift, and then I got a text from my ride saying I couldn't be taken home, due to their prior commitments. (You know who you are!) So I waited for a bus for ages, only to realise that the last bus of the day had already gone from that stop, and I walked to another bus stop which only took me about a kilometre closer to my destination - for those who don't know, I live relatively far away from my school zone, meaning it takes about fifteen minutes to drive, as you go over the motorway, but buses take ridiculously indirect routes and walking is just suicide, (and it takes about two hours), going under that dodgy bridge. So I started walking down Mt. Albert Rd, and was just really upset because it was eight o'clock and I had said I'd be home by then, so I did what one just must do in such situations.

I called my daddy. I told him I was stranded and he said he'd be there to pick me up. Then I walked off my frustration to Three Kings Plaza and got in the car and Dad laughed and I apologised and he said "That's all right."

Independence, eh?

By the way, I was successful in changing my shift and didn't get throttled by my boss, he just put me on Fridays. So that's fine.

Alright, so I have to get off my dad's laptop now, I think I owe him one. Haha. One more thing for you orange Roskillians - was anyone else totally uninspired by the Orange House pep talk today? Bless our house deans, the way they rave. But I'm a cynic. I just don't really see the relevance of the house system anymore... sure, there's the whole "competitive spirit" thing, but there are, what, three events in the whole year when we actually have inter-house competitions? Anyway.

Day Three

Right now I'm listening to Vampire Weekend's new album 'Contra' - I love it, I think it's awesome, and I really want to go to their live show when they come to Auckland in April. It will probably be around $50-60... let's see if I can afford that. Josie, Eva, you should come with me. WOULDN’T EVER GAG YOU WITH A SPOON, MY ONLY TRUE LOVE.

So far the classes I most enjoy are media and English. Ideology, hegemony, discourse – these are the buzzwords in media at the moment. And in English we’re looking at this poem, which I really like:

On the Subway, by Sharon Olds

The boy and I face each other.
His feet are huge, in black sneakers
laced with white in a complex pattern like a
set of intentional scars. We are stuck on
opposite sides of the car, a couple of
molecules stuck in a rod of light
rapidly moving through darkness. He has the
casual cold look of a mugger,
alert under hooded lids. He is wearing
red, like the inside of the body
exposed. I am wearing dark fur, the
whole skin of an animal taken and
used. I look at his raw face,
he looks at my fur coat, and I don't
know if I am in his power-
he could take my coat so easily, my
briefcase, my life-
or if he is in my power, the way I am
living off his life, eating the steak
he does not eat, as if I am taking
the food from his mouth. And he is black
and I am white, and without meaning or
trying to I must profit from his darkness,
the way he absorbs the murderous beams of the
nation's heart, as black cotton
absorbs the heat of the sun and holds it. There is
no way to know how easy this
white skin makes my life, this
life he could take so easily and
break across his knee like a stick the way
his own back is being broken, the
rob of his soul that at birth was dark and
fluid and rich as the heart of a seedling
ready to thrust up into any available light.

I was thinking about how you simply cannot extract yourself from your context - your birthplace, your family, your ancestors, and what that will lead people to assume about you. In the poem, the woman's inherent guilt is a perfect example of this: she has never directly interacted with this man nor had any influence over his life, yet she inherits the "sins of her fathers" and feels a moral obligation to the people that previous generations have exploited and abused. It's so interesting, and something to consider - that while you can try to understand and to learn about other people, you can never move from your own standpoint. You are rooted to the conditions that have shaped you.

So my job starts tomorrow, I’m getting trained up on how to smile and use the till by Michelle Lim, who used to go to our school. I’ll be working five hours a week so far, Wednesdays and Thursdays... but I have to swap with Jennecca, Mondays for the Thursdays, since my university lecture is supposed to be on that Tuesdays and Thursdays. I didn’t think of that earlier. Facepalm.

I'd better go and sleep, things are full-on already and I was really feeling it today.

Day One

As I'm just starting out with this blog, I think I will probably end up writing a whole lot, but that won't happen all the time! It's just that there's always so much to say at the beginning.

Today was the very first official day of school. There were a lot of novelties, such as taking over the Year 13-only common room, and the scary, thrilling little '13' in front of our subject codes on our timetables, and the maroon jumpers (which no sane person should be wearing in this heat, but of course there's nothing wrong with carrying them casually over your arm to state your seniority), and the little impact of finality about everything - this is the last time I will ever have a "first day of the school year", this is the last time I will buy a locker, this is the last time I will receive a new timetable...

I had design first, so there was nothing unfamiliar about that, I know Mrs Kempster really well, and she's lovely. So that was all very blah-blah, new rules, recycling, course outline. We have to start brainstorming 'youth organisations' to centre our work around, or make up our own. I'm thinking it might be interesting, having been around the South Island and visited many so-called 'accessible disability units' for Mum which fell ridiculously short of the most BASIC requirements around being wheelchair-friendly - to work on some kind of support organisation for people with disabilities who want to travel, or even just to lead a relatively ordinary, relatively stress-free life. I think there is an initiative like that in Wellington, called Walking Is Overrated.

Then we had French, with Mr McAlpine. He's a short, rotund, energetic man who speaks quickly and pushes you urgently through all the work in an extremely efficient manner. It forces you to learn, actually, but his demeanor is so funny and idiosyncratic that you don't often find yourself minding all that much. He gave the lesson almost entirely in French, and I was relieved to find that I could still understand it all after six weeks barely speaking or thinking a word of it.

After that it was interval and I had a meeting for the Diversity Forum, led by one of the school counsellors, Jeannie. The Diversity Forum is a group that meets and talks about 'issues surrounding diversity' including gender/sexuality/disability/religion, and... well, I personally never feel all that enlightened by it, but some good discussions do eventuate, and it's a good place to express your opinions.

Next was English. This year I have Mr Hawthorne, who was my teacher in Year 11, too. He's fantastic. Really, really knows his stuff, and I feel very privileged to be in his class. Even if he did once tell my mother I'm a freak... he meant it in a POSITIVE way, apparently! He has always been a strong supporter of my writing, (at least in the essay-writing and formal writing field, as I haven't shown him more than a couple of my poems) and I'm looking forward to a year in his class. We're going to be studying 'Othello' for our Shakespeare text, 'The Colour Purple' by Alice Walker for our novel, and the New Zealand film 'Rain' for our film.

That same period, my dear friend Helen got a note from the principal's secretary asking her to meet him at 12:15, and then she did, and it turns out that she is the Head Girl. And I'm so happy for her, really, but of course I'm disappointed for myself. And I had just hoped to be deputy, but it hasn't happened, and I'm alright. I'm not an all-rounder, and I'm satisfied with that, because I love being good at the things I am good at and the things I love so much.

After that, media. Oh, media. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. This year we are studying documentaries (yuss!) namely music documentaries... rock and roll especially. I'm thinking it would be good to watch the Jeff Buckley one, Amazing Grace... that was stunning.

At lunchtime we all went out onto the grass beside R Block under the trees and ate lunch and talked very loudly and laughed and exchanged outrageous stories and frightened the new Year 9 children. I heard from Alex that some people in our year call us the 'alternative' group. It's so true! There's Alex, the rule-flouting, piercing-wearing loud and wild party girl; Nandita the studious, generous, thoughtful and committed one who does nothing whatsoever for banishing the stereotypes about Indian kids yet is essentially as Kiwi as you get in any other aspect; Helen who is the most rules-oriented, practical, left-brained, responsible, straightforward and effervescent girl I know; Megan the pretty, popular type whom you would almost expect to be one of 'those girls', and yet she isn't; Karina who I've known since primary school, one of my all-time best friends, skipped most of Year 11, is impossible to pin down, is as restless and gregarious and flirtacious as the day is long; Eva who is a creative and sensitive and lovely friend with so many similar interests to me, a sister from another mister(!)... oh and there are more, but it's so cool. I love how interesting we are, and how people must think "wow, what are they doing in a group?"

And last I had painting and it was pretty much the same as design, except we had Ms Gröber (who looked very foxy, you were right Eva!) our lovely, eloquent, thin German teacher who has a PhD in Painting, and she always calls me Holly and reprimands herself, but I always forgive her.

THEN, triumph above all others, I GOT A JOB. At a butcher's shop called The Mad Butcher, can you believe it... More about this tomorrow, I must go. But I am elated. It feels as if my plans are moving now.