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.