All I know is that, you're so nice

I appreciate absolute, brutal honesty. I know how much guts it takes to say things directly to a person's face and I know how valuable it is.

One of the biggest problems with my first "relationship" was the complete absence of any honesty whatsoever. This has left me with the problem that, regardless of what the news is, I'm always going to prefer brutal honesty over lies or having things swept under the carpet.

The simple fact is I do want to talk about it and I do want to know what's going on.

The problem is, sometimes honesty hurts.

I appreciate knowing, I appreciate the cards on the table, but sometimes I need the time to process things before I can come back with my own true, honest feelings.

Sooooo tired!

It has been one hell of a weekend! It's safe to say one of the best I've ever had.

I do plan to blog about it this week some time but I'm too tired, too hungover, too preoccupied with the concept of sleep.

So for tonight I leave you with a 'filler' blog, hopefully tomorrow I can fill in the gaps.

Death Climb

I've been really good at going to the gym lately. Not only have I been making it four times a week, they've been real, hardcore sessions.

I'd like to thank the Death Climb for this miracle.

I've discovered that if I put my iPod on, jump on the cross trainer set to 'One Big Hill', level 7 and go for half an hour that... well I find it kinda makes me want to die, but in a great way.

I know that when I leave the gym I am going to be super-tired, but I'm also going to feel amazing. That feeling has hooked me, I love it.

Life is Bigger, It's Bigger Than You

I've talked before about how, generally speaking, the only topics that are completely off-limits with me are religion and spirituality. Walking home last night however, I started thinking about it, and I decided a blog on the topic could be valuable, so I'm going to give it a go.

The reason I don't discuss my beliefs is because they're not up for change. I believe what I believe and I have no desire to push them onto another person, but at the same time I have no desire for another person to push theirs onto me. They are the sum of years at church, prayer, knowledge and soul searching and they are close to my heart. I tend to find that any discussions on spirituality and religion turn into debates, and I don't think I need to justify my beliefs to anyone, because those beliefs are between me and the God I believe in, no-one else.

What I believe is probably best aligned to the Christian concept of God. My spiritual education was Presbyterian and many of those lessons have remained with me. The way I relate to God and His position within my life has changed over the years however, and have very little to do with the teachings of the church today.

It's not God Himself I have a problem with, it's the concept of religion and it's divisive nature. I feel like I was taught about a God with two faces. The first God - the one that I actually believe in - is accepting and full of love. This is the God that wants the best for us, who wants us to genuinely get out there and live, who ensures the right people are in our lives at the right time and guides us onto the right paths.

The second God I was taught about was the God of rules. This was the Parent God who wants constant worship and obedience. This is the God responsible for the 10 Commandments (which is essentially a long list of what you can't do), and the one who looks down on sex before marriage, gay relationships, and all the other things that tend to draw negative reaction toward the Christian/Catholic churches.

Many Christians I know can marry these two versions of God and see them side-by-side as one person. I never could. To me, the first God is the real one, the second God is man's version of God. The second God is religion. This is where I begin to have my problems.

The main Christian principle is that God is central to everything, that life is for serving God. I interpret this differently. One thing that I hate about religion is that it's all about what you can't do. It's rules, oppression, hate and judgement. That's not the God I know, that's not the life I want to live.

For me, life is about celebrating God. Life is about loving those around you unconditionally, taking responsibility for your actions and at the end of the day, being able to stand by your decisions and the life you led.

There are some decisions in my life I'm not proud of, and some I have struggled to stand by, but at the end of the day I take full responsibility in who I am, my thoughts and my actions because my belief is one day I will look into the eyes of God and, at that point - and only that point - I will be judged for them. I think being able to live honestly and with integrity is far more important than, for example, who I choose to sleep with.

I try and treat everyone the same way - regardless of any choice they make. It's not my place to judge your sexuality, the way you lead your life, what you believe, or how you choose to spend your time - so I don't. I may choose to not associate with you for one reason or another, but it's never a decision I take lightly, and I will stand by that decision for right or wrong.

While my vision of God, and my attitudes toward religion, are derived from a wide variety of experiences, teachings and sources, the one thing that sealed it for me was a Narnia book. The vision of God C.S. Lewis presents in The Last Battle is the most true and beautiful thing I have ever read about spirituality. To me, it says that it's not which religion you believe in, or what rules you follow, it's the attitude you display towards your God that is important. There are nice Muslims and nasty Muslims - just as there are nice Christians and nasty Christians.

In the end, I can't help but think it's not the Muslim or the Christian that will matter, it's the nasty or nice.

So I try and be on the nice side, I generally avoid religion and I just try to live my life honestly and with integrity.

Missing You

Since I bought this laptop I've been meaning to clean up my iTunes library, but it was just such a mission I really couldn't be bothered. I pretty much bought this thing, threw everything on and haven't really bothered to give it a proper clean up since.

Lately however I've started listening to (and buying) far more music than I have for a while. It's kinda made me think I need to finally just do it.

So that's what I'm doing. I'm resetting all counts, all ratings, all import dates. I'm cleaning, sorting, renaming, filing and just getting it tidy. I figure if I do it now before I get too bad, at least I'll have a nice tidy system, but if I put it off for much longer... well it'll annoy me and the job will only get bigger.

The reason I'm blogging about it? It's a big job, I can't sit down and give you an introspective or amusing blog today, cos I'm too busy organising my iTunes Library.

While doing my reorganising I've found a few things I'd overlooked - particuarly Girl Talk's Feed The Animals album, which is currently blowing my mind. If you like music, you should at least take a listen. It actually hurts me to know this album has been out for so long and this is the first time I've ever heard it. Physical pain. This album is so indescribably good, and I've never heard it before. I kind of feel like I've been abusing my ears by withholding it.

The genius of Greg Gillis actually can't be overestimated. This album, is blowing me away.

If you want to check out some tracks off the album, follow the links to YouTube.

Play Your Part (Vol 1)

Shut the Club Down

Still Here

Here comes the night with it's traffic and brilliant lights

"I never wash my pants. I like to keep the night on them."

- Nick (Michael Cera), Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist

Last night I had one of those awesome nights that just don't happen often enough.

For the last week or so I've been planning to go to a couple of concerts with someone I met at the last Tweet Up. Part of my new outlook is to go out, meet new people and enjoy Auckland. This was me doing just that.

We went to see a band called Handsome Furs. I've been listening to them for about a week and kinda liked them, but had the feeling they were the kind of band that was most likely going to blow me away live. Thankfully I wasn't left disappointed.

The night didn't quite start as well as it ended though. First of all, after getting ready and jumping on the train, I realised that, for the first time in my entire life, I'd forgotten my ticket to the event. I had to get off at the next stop and walk home (in the rain) to get it. Luckily my companion was made of awesome and agreed to come pick me up.

Ticket in hand, we headed into town and ended up promptly getting lost deep in the villa'd bowels of Ponsonby. Luckily however, (because villa'd Ponsonby scares the bejesus out of me) there was GPS to come to the rescue and save us. Better late than never, we parked the car and walked into town.

It was on this walk I discovered a giant flaw with my plans for the night. You see I'd decided to wear my new funky pink shoes, but a wee fact I was oblivious to when purchasing them was that they are apparently made of at least 50% cardboard and don't stand up too well to rain. So on top of forgetting my ticket, being late and having half of heaven pissing down on us, I could barely keep my shoes on my feet.

Awesome.

Let's just say I learned something about relationships from the experience. My clompy shoes might be ugly, but they are sturdy, and comfortable, and would never abandon me in my time of need like my cheap pink pretty shoes. From now on, the clompy shoes come with me.

After dinner I struggled with my slowly disintegrating shoes up to Nelson Street, down the slippery steps and finally we were there! I excused myself to the bathroom to inspect the damage and do my best to dry them off, before heading back to the bar for a well-needed beer.

We sat around and chatted while waiting for the support band, Brand New Math, a Kiwi band who were actually pretty rocking. Four things stood out for me about this band. Firstly, the lead singer looked like he desperately needed to pee for the entire event. I'm not sure if he needed the bathroom or if he was just really into the music, but it could have been either. Secondly, the drummer rocked. He bought out some really funky beats and didn't rely on the hi-hats. I appreciate that in a drummer. Thirdly, the three front guys swapped instruments a few times - as my companion remarked, it was nice to see that they all got a turn. Lastly, and this was the thing that sealed it, one of the guys was wearing a Titanic t-shirt. It was pure class.

After Brand New Math, we grabbed another beer and chatted some more before a guy came out to announce that the reason we were all here was about to hit the stage.

We made our way in and... wow... by the second song I was sending texts down to Wellington telling people to go see them the next night.

Stage presence, energy, mood, a hyped audience - it was all there. I'd been listening to the album for a week but it had nothing on the live performance.

Both my companion and I got great spots - although we were split up for most of it which was a little sad - but it's safe to say we were both blown away. It was too short, I could have danced to that for twice as long and still not been entirely satisfied.

It was definitely the best small-venue gig I've ever been to, and I'd rank it up there with one of the best performances I've ever seen.

On the way back to the car I gave up on the shoes and did something I've never done before, walked barefoot in town. It's not my usual, but it sure beat the alternative of slowly losing my sanity at the two poorly constructed rubber/cardboard contraptions.

My companion was nice enough to drop me off and once I was at home, uploading the video below and tweeting enthusiastically I realised that I'd had a Nick and Norah experience of my own - a comically random night with a great companion centered around a fantastic band. While I will wash my pants, it mightn't be for a few days, 'cos I want to keep the night on them.

Check out the video below of Handsome Furs performing Evangeline, at the Bacco Room in Auckland.

It's been a bad day, please don't take a picture

This morning I woke up in a foul, grotty mood. I remained in that awful mood all morning, and it only changed when I went out to get lunch. Since my lunchbreak...

• I've had a chocolate brownie. Never underestimate the power of chocolate.
• My 45" collection turned up - containing The Beatles and Michael Jackson. I haven't seen them in 5 years. They make me VERY happy.
• Mr Vintage made a 'Thingee's Eye Popping Out' t-shirt, which I bought because I think it's freaking wicked.
• My favourite DJ (and the man who completely spun my musical tastes onto their head) got voted America's Best DJ of 2009.
• I was introduced to a large repository of awesome music in the work servers.
• The John Green Birthday compilation has been released on YouTube and now I can talk about how unbelievably excited I am to get a John Green bobblehead. It's John Green - as a BOBBLEHEAD! Yes, I really am nerdy enough to buy a bobblehead of a YouTube star/author

So at least things are looking up. From a crap start this morning to a better outlook this afternoon.

Fingers are crossed for an even better outlook tonight.

Been Caught Stealing

Flatting is one of those situations that require a certain amount of give and take. Share the milk, borrow the washing powder, I'll do the dishes, you clean the toilet - it's a constant compromise. Problems, however, arise when that compromise isn't even.

Much like any friendship or relationship, when one person is doing all the taking and another person is doing all the giving it causes a misbalance and that leads to a crap living environment.

For the last week or so I've thought I've been going slowly crazy. I was convinced my things were being used at rates I wasn't responsible for. Before I get accused of being selfish I should probably mention that yes, I went to kindy, and yes, I learned how to share, but it's not fun to feel paranoid over the speed washing powder and fabric softener is going missing. It's also kinda disgusting to suspect someone is sharing your razor.

Unfortunately, keeping strict tabs on my washing powder/fabric softener/razor isn't something I tend to obsess about so I couldn't be sure (and also, it's not enough of a problem to make a big deal out of). It wasn't even a problem at all until yesterday morning when I went to do my washing and found all my washing powder was gone.

I don't mind someone borrowing my washing powder, I don't mind someone using my milk or shampoo when they've run out but I do mind if they use the last of it, don't tell me and don't replace it. My stuff is 'back up', not your primary source. Buy your own.

The worst thing is that this feeling goes beyond things like washing powder and milk and to things like my razor. Sharing a razor is just gross. It's disgusting beyond anything I can possibly imagine, yet I'm fairly certain my flatmates don't share that opinion. I use one of those 'Intuition' razors with the soap around it which means yes, I do notice when they're being used but how do you bring this up with someone? 'Hi, perhaps I'm being paranoid and crazy, but I'm pretty sure you're possibly shaving your intimate lady parts with my razor and I'd really rather you didn't'?

What do I do? Take everything into my room so that they don't have access? That's not exactly the ideal solution, although it is one I have employed before. In my last flat my DVD collection got relocated because, despite repeated pleas for them to be put back in their cases and the cases back on the shelves (as opposed to 'naked' DVDs all over the floor and cases prone to being stood on), my flatmates couldn't comprehend that these were my things and I expected them to be respected. After the millionth time picking up scratched DVDs and putting the right ones in the right cases I got fed up, picked up the whole shelf and moved it to my room.

But I shouldn't have to do that for washing powder - neither should I have to write my name and 'DON'T USE' in big black letters to have my flatmates respect my things because I genuinely have no problem with them using it from time to time, I have a problem with them using it as a substitute for their own. I don't want to lose that trust in them, I'd rather know that they can be trusted to respect my things in the same way I respect theirs.

Two weeks to go, two weeks to go, two weeks to go.

Listen all of y'all it's a sabotage

I've never had a major romantic relationship in my life. I've had a few false-starts, and I've definitely had my fair share of heartache, but I've entirely managed to avoid having a long-term loving relationship with someone.

How does that happen to a 26 year old?

I think my first false-start plays a huge part in it. When I was 19 I fell for someone really hard. At the time that person was in an open relationship and it got... well it got really complicated. Honestly I'm still not sure of exactly what happened because a large chunk of that period of my life just isn't part of my memory - every time I try to put it all in order it's like water in a sieve. What I do remember is pain. Lots and lots of pain. I remember my supportive friends, but mostly I remember pain. More than once Holly has mentioned something that happened at this time that I just cannot remember, selective memory has left me with one impression of that period, and it's not a positive one.

With that "relationship" (I can't think of a better word for it, but "relationship" doesn't really describe it either), I dove in with my whole heart, I took risks. That was the first time I ever opened up entirely to a person and that person fucked me over in a big, big way.

It took four years before I could open up to another person but unfortunately, the lesson I'd taken from the first experience was to guard my heart at all times. This experience was a lot more positive than the last, but I never opened up and took the necessary risks because I was scared of what would happen if it all fell apart, and I think I missed out on something wonderful because of that.

Over the last few years I've met guys, I've gone out, I've had fun - I'm not a nun over here - but I always sabotage myself. I go into it thinking 'how am I going to react when this blows up?' The pain I was subjected to means it's hard to just open up and have fun because I'm constantly waiting to be kicked in the guts.

Lately I've been doing a lot of thinking - about who I am, about why I am that way, about what I want, and about what is right for me and I'm starting to come to some conclusions.

One guy I was seeing a while back used to frustrate me so badly because he would talk about wanting to have 'fun' and 'let things develop'. I never understood the concept. I wanted to rush to put labels on what we had. For some reason I wanted to be with him, without really knowing who he was.

I'm now of the opinion that he was completely right. I think there's a balance I can achieve here - between having 'fun', being true to myself and allowing things to develop naturally.

Ultimately, yes, I'm looking for a relationship, but more than that I'm looking for someone whose company I enjoy, who doesn't feel the need to label it or create rules, and who just wants to spend time with me.

It's time for me to put myself out there, to take the risks, and to see what happens. I can't go around thinking 'what happens when this all goes wrong?' forever because if I do, it will never go right.

F-I-L-L-E-R

I'm afraid today's blog is going to be bought to you by the word 'filler'.

I'm really tired having stayed up very late last night and getting up early this morning. I've had a headache for most of the day and all I really want to do is crawl into bed and sleep.

I did have a great day though - I had brunch with a friend, then we went to see District 9, went shopping for shoes and she showed me around her work (which was very cool). I was supposed to go to a party tonight but it's miles away and quite a mission to get to. When combined by tiredness and headache I figured I'd just skip.

Kinda wishing I hadn't, but oh well. I really just need to start going to bed at normal hours!

Right, to bed with me!

Girl Brains

I don't know about other girls out there, but I experience this thing. I call it 'Girl Brains'.

It's essentially where I overanalyse everything. I'm convinced I see hidden messages where there are no hidden messages, convinced that I said the wrong thing and that's put the other person off for life. I obsess about it.

I pick things apart that have no meaning, I try to infer meaning into things that the other person doesn't pick up - and then I obsess that they did pick it up, but are ignoring it, because they don't like what I'm inferring.

I assume that what is really the other person being busy is actually the other person ignoring me.

Then I get distracted and think about shoes, or chocolate, or handbags (or chocolate shoes inside handbags) and then I obsess some more.

It's not like I feel like this all the time - but it's one of the feelings I hate most in the world - being so damn unsure, and insecure.

Damn Girl Brains.

Giving it a chance

My little revelation on Sunday has had some widespread effects for me.

It was a long time coming - I'd been slowly coming to those conclusions anyway, but on Sunday things started clicking.

I've always thought that you get exactly what you believe. If you walk around convinced it rains all the time, it will rain all the time. Not because it actually physically pisses down every day, but because that's what you believe, and that's what you see. You don't really notice when it's fine, you only moan when it rains.

Taking that theory a little further, if you believe the city you live in is an awful place to be, it will be. This is slightly different to the weather example because while your thoughts have no direct influence over the weather, they do have a very real influence over your ability to enjoy a place. If you think it's awful you'll avoid doing the good things. You'll also concentrate on and remember the things that suck more than the experiences you enjoy.

When I moved to Auckland, I came with the mindset that I was here to earn my degree and leave again. I came to Auckland to study specifically for the reason that I didn't like it, wouldn't enjoy it and thus, would concentrate on my degree.

For the last three and a half years I have moaned about how awful Auckland is. I've even avoided living in particular areas so I could keep up that belief. One place I could never bring myself to look for a flat was on K Road, because I know for an absolute fact I would love it. Despite - or more accurately - because it is my favourite place in the city, I generally avoid it.

At heart I'm a Wellingtonian, and a very stubborn one. My parents don't like Auckland, many of my friends don't like Auckland, and I'm not much of a fan myself - but then again, I'm not really giving it a chance either.

So here's what I've decided. I'm going to give Auckland three months. I'm going to have a social life, go to gigs, make friends, do coffee, live in a nice part of town and genuinely give Auckland a chance. I'm going to start saying yes and putting myself out there. I'm going to see what happens.

At the end of those three months I'll decide on the next step - which is still entirely up in the air. Maybe it's Wellington, maybe it's Australia, maybe it's Europe and maybe, just maybe, it's Auckland.

So I'm moving somewhere I like. I'll be on K Road every single day. I'll be going to gigs and throwing parties. Rather than hiding and avoiding and moaning about Auckland, I'm going to experience it.

The simple fact is there have been moments I've adored this city - I even had one last night drinking coffee and eating cake with my new flatmate at Verona. They are rare, but they are not unheard of.

So Auckland, I'm changing my attitude, I'm open, I'm eager - prove yourself.

An Embarrassing Anecdote

Tonight my (future) new flatmate is going to be cooking a roast and we're going to meet potential new flatmates. I'm quite excited - first, I get a home cooked meal which I don't have to cook myself, and second, I get to meet new people and practice those small talk and friendliness skills. Well maybe the second isn't exciting to me, but it is a positive step.

I was thinking last night about moving - how much of a pain it was, why it sucks and why it's also extremely exciting - and I remembered a little story from when I left my flat in Mt Wellington.

To preface this story and give it a little background, a few years back I went to Erotica with Shera and we spent up large - show bags, magazines, DVDs... we bought a LOT of stuff. Some of that stuff got given away, some got thrown out, and some survived.

One of the things that survived was a particularly nasty edition of Hustler. By the time we were moving out of the flat it was almost two years old and had been sitting in a far flung corner under my bed where it had landed one day after some random drinking session..

I think I have to clarify that I never used the magazine for it's intended purpose, it was mostly used for drunken mockery when friends came over. Yes, my friends are that weird.

Anyway, the magazine had sat there for what must have been quite a while and I had entirely forgotten about it. In the lead up to moving I packed everything away, piled things up nicely and did some cleaning. On the day of the move I stood the bed up on it's side against the wall, removed the legs, and let it sit there for the mover who was due later that morning.

Half a dozen of our friends turned up to help us move and say goodbye to Shera, they were all pretty happy to help take my things out to the moving truck. Everyone was pitching in, carting out furniture, boxes, bags and other miscellaneous things, I didn't even see it happen...

But when I walked back into my room the mover and one of our helpers had carted off the bed and there, sitting on the floor, her face covered in semen was a naked blonde staring up at me with 'fuck me' eyes.

Needless to say I squirrelled it away pretty quickly, and to their credit neither the mover nor my friend ever mentioned it, but there is practically no way they didn't see it.

...and that dear boys and girls is why I now check under the bed before I move house!

Will Twitter change the world?

I will admit, I am blogging about Twitter a lot at the moment. It's surpassed Facebook as my favourite social network site. Perhaps it is appropriate I'm writing this blog on the day The Reader's Digest - a staple print publication which has survived the Great Depression and countless media shifts - has applied for Chapter 11 bankruptcy, and even more appropriate that I heard that news on Twitter.

Cast your mind back almost 8 years to September 11, 2001. Do you remember where you were when you heard what happened that day? Do you remember how horrified you were watching the footage? What about the 07/07/07 attacks on London? Do you remember how hard it was to get information? To reach your loved ones? Have you ever wondered how the media might have framed these events for you?

Can you imagine how these events might be reported today, via applications such as Facebook and Twitter? People at the scene, telling you exactly what they see. People inside the building, sending video footage from their iPhones to YouTube, eye witness news, in quickly readable and instantly searchable form. All there. No third party framing, and all at your fingertips - in real time.

That's the new media people.

Look at how the death of Michael Jackson was covered, or more seriously, the 2009 Iran Elections. It's even believed that the recent DDoS attacks on Twitter were a politically-motivated attempt to silence one outspoken Georgian blogger.

More than one respectable publication has published opinion pieces recently against what they label the social networking "fad" (The Guardian, The Independent - both articles found via Twitter, for the record), but it remains that Facebook has a population which, if it were a country, would make it the 4th biggest in the world (between the United States and Indonesia). I will grant you we have heard similar statistics for the social media fad of '06 - MySpace but while many might argue that MySpace is now dead, I would argue it just found it's niche.

As a social network it's never been the best, simply one of the first to pioneer the format. As a showcase for musicians however it's fantastic. I never picked MySpace up as a social network but it's the first place I go to check out a new band. Not one of the places, the place. I will go to a MySpace page ahead of an official website. If you don't have a MySpace page as a musician, you're mad.

MySpace evolved. It's what the Internet does. Despite what people say, social networking is not new. It's simply that the Internet has reached such a saturation point that it's easy to find people you actually know. I've been around for many years now. When I first started using the Internet I was made fun of for it. I began by using HTML chatrooms and ICQ where I talked to people I'd never met before in countries all over the world, to IRC, MSN, gTalk, and Facebook Chat with people I know, and who for the most part live locally. These days you're weird if you don't use the Internet. Now there's Twitter, we've evolved again. There will be something after Twitter for sure - Facebook are currently making moves with their recent acquisition of FriendFeed, the release of real-time status searches and the upcoming release of Facebook Lite.

Twitter has holes - the bots, the lack of any apparent business model (it's free, has millions of users and practically no advertising. It's successful yes, but is it a success financially?) and the fact that 40% of tweets are considered 'waffle' - all these things weigh against Twitter.

I love it, but I can't help but think it's almost guaranteed to be superseded. I do, however, feel that whatever supersedes Twitter will improve on what Twitter has become - a fast, easy way to tell people what is happening right now.

No longer is Twitter for posting what you had for breakfast (well, it is, but not entirely) the Trending Topics feature and upcoming changes to ReTweeting are going to mean Twitter (or whatever replaces it's spot on the Internet) is going to be concerned with telling you what is happening in the world - bringing you the events as they occur, before the TV stations can get to the location, film, report, edit and broadcast, the 200 eye witnesses will be able to report the events via their iPhones, with pictures posted to twtpic and video to YouTube.

So will Twitter change the world? I think it's a start.


For more information on exactly how powerful the social media phenomenon is, I suggest you check out this post at socialnomics.com

Tweekend Highlights

Once again, I ended up having an awesome weekend and, for the most part, this has been because of Twitter.

It blows my mind that since Telethon I've managed to join this incredible community of people. The best part about Twitter I think is that it leaves the computer and goes out into real life - the tweeting and interaction can be done anywhere via cell phone, but, more than that, it's a regular and normal thing to meet the people you follow face-to-face. I've been using this tool actively for only a few weeks, yet I've met a number of my followers in real life.

On Friday I attended my first official TweetUp. Practically no-one I follow was there which made it a bit of a let down, but not a total waste of time by any measuring stick. I did meet a couple of people I follow and also some new and interesting people that I didn't at the time, but do now. Overall I found the whole thing a workout for my networking skills - which is one of those things I desperately need to develop, yet something I'm entirely clueless of how to do.

I left the TweetUp early-ish, a little overwhelmed and tired, got some dinner and went to a screening of Sunshine Cleaning. Mostly I was watching it to fill in time because what I was really hanging around for was a screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Rocky Horror was an experience I absolutely want to be part of again. If you're in Auckland and want to go, leave a comment (or tweet at me, @katjnz) and let me know - but only if you want the full experience - dressed up, half pissed and with a bag full of props. I want to experience it the best way. I loved going not-dressed-up and without a bag of props, but everyone else looked like they were having so much fun! The audience participation (the rice, torches, rubber gloves, toast, newspaper, yelling "slut" at Janet and "asshole" at Brad, cards, the singing and the dancing) was just so incredible. If you've never done a full participation Rocky Horror, you really need to. I loved it. It finished at about 12 and I got dropped off at home, where I promptly crashed out.

Most of the next day, Saturday, was underwhelming. I was supposed to go to Motat but it didn't end up happening due to rain forecasts. It was a productive house day, but the evening was where the fun started. TV3 were playing Top Gun and we discovered that a large number of people on Twitter had never seen it before. Much like last week with the Telethon, we all sat down with wine and laptops and watched TV together virtually. It's an interesting experience. I'm sure those who didn't watch (or care about) Top Gun got very annoyed with our streams from Saturday night, but I enjoyed it. Actually, maybe a little too much. Top Gun was combined with a bottle of wine, and the bottle of wine led me down a dangerous path.

Generally I stay away from drinking because it leads me to smoking and, worse, spending many hours (and many dollars) dancing in clubs in town. A bottle of chardonnay in front of the TV meant I was pumped and ready for town. A few texts to the usual suspects and I found myself at some random house party in Ponsonby.

That was cool, but got broken up fairly soon after I arrived so Shaun and I headed to the Viaduct to find a friend of his. We didn't find her, but we did end up finding someone I'd met at the TweetUp on Friday. We had a drink before he had to catch a bus home to the 'burbs and Shaun and I vanished into the night to head to Family.

Given the last time I was at Family I made some very drunk decisions (making out with a short random dude in gay club is never what one expects from an evening when a female), I was a little apprehensive. Still, Shaun kept an eye on me and we danced to a load of pop songs I've never heard before (clearly I've been listening to GeorgeFM/bFM exclusively for a long time now) and started walking a continuous loop trying to find his friends.

One thing that makes me laugh about clubbing in Auckland - and incidentally this is one of the reasons I love Ink/Coherent - is the ratio of time you spend deciding where to go and getting there to the time actually spent drinking, socialising and dancing. I love Ink/Coherent because I can turn up at 11 and not leave until 6, without feeling like I've missed out on a damn thing. It's got dance areas, 2 bars, lounge areas and a smoking area. Not to mention every bar I've been to on K Rd is just full of great quiet dark corners and Ink/Coherent have plenty of those! Clubbing in Auckland seems to be about moving onto the next place, I far prefer finding one good place and enjoying it.

But I digress. We did spend a lot of time walking up and down Family, inside, outside, upstairs, downstairs... eventually I decided I'd had enough and came home.

Of course, wicked weekends rarely come without consequences and Sunday was spent with water, coffee, panadol, my bed and a pile of DVDs. The thing I hate the most about getting older is how much longer it takes to bounce back again. When I was 18 'hangover' wasn't in my vocabulary, when I was 23 it meant I'd be seedy until 11. Now it means I can write off the next day 'cos I ain't going anywhere.

Going out did remind me of how much I like it though. I can't say I'm a fan of the Viaduct. I've little interest in 18 year old girls too drunk to stand in their 5 inch heels and pillowcase dresses stumbling around and screeching. I've even less interest in average-at-best pop music. It's just not my scene. K Rd and a series of cool little bars dotted around town however, I do enjoy. A slightly older clientele, the ability to dress themselves in more than bedding, being able to handle their liquor with at least a little bit of grace and music that doesn't make me want to have a seizure makes it an OK night at worst, and an epic night when it's really rolling.

Hopefully there will be more in the near-future. Tonight a friend offered me a room in his flat. It's a flat I won't be embarrassed to have people over to, where I can sit down at night and have a chat with my flatmates. Close to town, with people I can go out on the weekend with - people who work different hours to me so we won't be in each other's face all the time... oh wait... ask and ye shall receive I guess. With luck, the new flat, combined with recent realisations and new attitudes will be a step in the right direction to actually enjoying this city I've found myself inexplicably stuck in.

Don't forget - if you're interested in a real Rocky Horror night, send me a tweet (@katjnz). I have it on good authority it's playing at Queen St until the end of August.

Fuck off? On my forehead?

I've been following Rachel Goodchild on Twitter for a week or so now. For those of you who don't know who Rachel is, she's an author, relationship blogger and all-around lovely person. If you're on Twitter, you should follow her (@rgoodchild) and even if you're not, you should read her blog. She gives away icecream so it's totally worth it.

Her blogs are usually interesting and about things I can relate to but the one she wrote yesterday managed to stir up some feelings for me that run pretty deep. The story she published was about a woman who realised that she had "fuck off" tattooed across her forehead. Not literally, obviously, but everything about her - the way she dressed, the way she interacted with others, the way she felt around people and all the subliminal messages she sent out to those around her just screamed "fuck off".

It rang bells. Lots and lots of bells.

Before I even read the blog I was aware I sent out that message - sometimes I'm even proud of it. I'm not afraid to be disliked, but the thing the blog really pointed out to me is that apparently what I am afraid of is to be liked.

I can only assume this fear stems from high school. To my conscious knowledge I've never been abused in any way, but in high school I desperately wanted to be popular, and those who already were made it rather clear that it was not going to be happening.

I'm not here to complain about the experience - lets face it, teenagers are awful and they do some disgusting things. There are things I did back then that I could apologise a million times for and still not feel I had grovelled enough, but the fact is that those events and experiences I went though had an effect, and that effect was that eventually I just stopped caring about whether a person disliked me.

For me, the easy version of it is that if a person doesn't like me, that's fine - they're probably not worth knowing anyway. In reality, my brain races and obsesses about everything, but the outward appearance, or the company line, is that "I couldn't give a fuck if you don't like me".

I never really stopped to think that the other side of that coin was "I couldn't give a fuck if you like me".

In the past I've had friends tell me that before getting to know me they thought I was a total bitch. Prior to now I had never quite worked out why that was - I've always thought that I genuinely try to approach people in a friendly way. I thought that I was shy and a little socially awkward - not that everything about me is telling the other person I have zero interest in getting to know them.

I am a little shy, and I am a little socially awkward, but I also carry that tattoo which puts people off before they even get the chance to move past it. It's a defense mechanism to protect myself in case they don't like me.

To my knowledge, there is one thing that does let that defence down, and that is drinking. Once I've been out with a person, all that crap is gone and we're friends. Many times I've only integrated into groups once I've gone out into a social, lubricated environment and made a bit of a dick out of myself. Once that screen is down, people see that the 'fuck off' sign isn't real, and equally, when we're sober again in the morning I realise I don't need to put it up around them. A good example of this was Holly and Corrina's going away party - prior to the party I was semi-known at work but no-one really knew me. After it, I knew everyone and would happily stop to chat with every staff member who had attended.

Simply put, my tattoo had been removed around those people. They'd seen that it was a stick-on and they'd seen who I was underneath.

So, realising what the problem is, what is the net effect? Well, apart from a social life that centers around an online-medium (where people can't sense any of this) the biggest single issue would be my inability to meet guys. Actually, perhaps it's more fitting to say that I meet guys, but my scary "fuck off" persona makes them run for the hills.

Rachel's blog had a particular sentence that really struck home for me. It's this sentence that opened my eyes the most:

"I had been waiting for someone to fight their way through my defences, and thinking that if they didn’t they were not worth my time".

I have literally been waiting for the last 20 months for someone to do that.

In January last year I decided I was going to stop with the casual sex, stop with NZd and all it's crap and actually look for a nice guy. I'm not saying I'm against sex, or that I'm holding out for anything in particular, but I am looking for more than sex. I want some romance, dating and getting to know the other person - not just a casual shag I see every so often for a quick romp.

I've held out on that for the last 20 months. There have been guys in my life in that time - guys I met in clubs that I had no interest in going further with; guys I met in clubs or parties who I did, but who the "fuck off" tattoo drove away; guys I've met online; heck, I've even had a relationship-of-sorts in that time - but for the last 20 months I have been celibate because I want the next guy I sleep with to be someone I respect and who respects me too.

Unfortunately, I've let opportunities pass, I've met perfectly lovely guys and sent them packing because I've had the mentality that the "right" guy will fight past my shit to love me... which is just plain stupid now that I think about it.

In my head I want the movies. I want Heath Ledger to pursue me until he finally breaks down my defences (10 Things I Hate About You, A Knight's Tale). I want Nino to go on a quest to work out who I am, to talk to my friends and to keep turning up at my door until I finally have the guts to answer (Amelie). I want my Mr. Darcy to turn up and rescue me from my crap life and show me that everything will be OK because he will protect and provide for me (Pride & Prejudice, Bridget Jones and every other bloody adaptation). I want Richard Gere to fight his fears and prove once and for all that he really, truly loves the wretch he found on the side of the gutter (Pretty Woman)...

Hollywood has a lot to answer for.

Realistically, I have to meet a nice guy. I have to be interested and be friendly. I have to open up and attempt to make a connection. Perhaps I don't have to be the one doing the pursuing, but I can't send them packing and expect them to keep coming back for more punishment. Guys are people too and if someone treated me the way I treat some of them, I'd get the hint pretty fast and look elsewhere as well. It's a matter of changing my perspective and the way I relate to people. It's about realising I'm not happy with life the way it is, that yes, maybe it is my fault and that I'm the only one who can really make a difference here.

I've got to stop expecting that a guy is going to keep fighting for something I keep (unconsciously or consciously) telling him I don't want, and that he can't have.

That's a conclusion I've been slowly making for the last few months, but I have to thank Rachel and her friend for sharing the story because without it, I'd be missing a very important step in the process. I can change all I want, but until I erase that "fuck off" from my forehead, I'm not going to get anywhere I want to be.

If you want to read the blog that inspired this post, you can find it here.

On flatting

Sometimes I wonder if I'm ever going to be happy flatting. I've only ever lived in one situation with another person where I've genuinely enjoyed the entire experience (rather than tolerated or, in some cases, actively despised it) and that was with Holly. Even though we lived in a tiny flat that backed onto the main trunk line (and therefore had BIG trains running up and down it at all hours), it was a happy flat. We got along great, didn't fight and had no major dramas. As far as flatting goes, it was bliss.

But that's the only time I've ever really loved it. I'm not saying I haven't had some awesome flatmates over the years, or that I haven't enjoyed some of the moments I've had - indeed, even some of the worst flatmates have their moments - but most of the time, I wish they'd just bugger off, pay the rent, and let me live blissfully by myself.

In the flat I'm currently in, for example, we don't really do much with each other at all. It's almost like living with myself, only I share a kitchen, bathroom and laundry. My flatmates are generally kind, considerate people, but our timetables are frustratingly similar which means we always want to cook at the same time, do our laundry at the same time and we're always home at the same time.

This causes issues when trying to make dinner in our very small kitchen. It also causes issues for me because I can't clean when other people are at home.

In my last place, it used to get disgustingly filthy very quickly. Rubbish would spill all over the floors, dishes would pile sky high and the living room would get cluttered with my flatmate's junk. I'm not saying I was perfect in the situation, but let's just say my ratio of mess making to cleaning was vastly different to that of my flatmates. Don't believe how bad it was? One afternoon I was so disgusted, I took photos. If you wish to suffer bad-flatmate induced nightmares, click here or here.

Maybe you're asking why I didn't take more pride in my house, why didn't I clean? Well, I did. For the first month or so, every Sunday we would all clean the flat. It was a system that worked. Sometime around the month-and-a-half mark however it started to fall apart. Flatmate #1 was happy to vacuum and take out the rubbish but created piles of dishes and didn't tend to take the initiative - he just didn't see what we saw. Flatmate #2 was good at doing dishes, but due to Flatmate #1's ability to magically create them at the speed of light (and being fair, my habit of not-rinsing), got fed up and decided she'd had enough. I just saw mess everywhere and wanted it to all just be clean. I'd wait until I had the house to myself and clean everything. The toilet, bathroom, floors, dishes, stove, fridge, living room - it was actually very satisfying to take it from the state it was in to sparkling.

One day (possibly the day of the photos) I decided to clean even though I wasn't alone. That was a mistake. About half way through, Flatmate #1 walked out into the kitchen, made a big mess (and many dishes), then went back to his room again, leaving it all there for (I assume) me to clean up after him. After that day, I pretty much gave up.

The cleaning (or rather, the mess) became a sticking point. While Flatmate #1 didn't seem to care at all, Flatmate #2 and myself did - except we both had very different points of view on it. You can battle uphill for only so long with an onslaught like that before you essentially give up. I still cleaned, but not as often as I once did. The lack of appreciation and reciprocation got to me. I withdrew, kept to myself, and stayed in my (clean) room. More than one person asked how I could put up with the other two when they could see by looking at our rooms where the mess was coming from.

Moving into this flat was like a breath of fresh air. It's not as nice as the last one, and it's not as social, but it's clean. If I had to pick between those three things, I'd pick clean. I'm not a clean-freak, but I can't live in mess like that. Here, we have a roster - which I hate, but abide to because it works, and it's better than the mess.

It doesn't mean it's perfect however. The problems are generally small, but because we're not friends or social with each other (and the flat is set up in such a way it's difficult for that to happen) we all seem to just grit our teeth and bear it. Currently my biggest problem is that the last person to mop the floors apparently did so with cooking oil - I've fallen over twice this week and had numerous close-calls. I'm very lucky my hips are still whole!

What would be nice? Well apart from living with Holly again, or by myself, a flat with 3-4 sane, reasonable, tidy professionals in their late 20's-early 30's. People with their own lives, but who still want to know their flatmates. People who will share the cooking - it gets tiring cooking for one every night and sharing is so much more satisfying. People I can sit around and discuss the news with, people with opinions and quirky taste who can introduce me to new TV shows/music/food/experiences. It'd definitely have to be a mix of sexes. In my experience too many boys means it gets messy and too many girls means it gets catty and bitchy. A mix of lifestyles and experiences would be nice too. People able to compromise, with the ability to listen to, and empathise, with other people's points of view.

Unfortunately, that magic flat is unlikely to ever exist. Very few people I know really enjoy flatting. It's the kind of experience that allows you to grow as a person due to the forced crap experiences. I think those who don't go flatting are missing out, but at the same time there's a limit to how much any one person can take.

Over a total of 7 years (on and off since 2001) I have had 20 flatmates. Some of them are close friends, sealed by the shared experiences we had flatting, some of them I haven't seen or talked to since our flats broke up. Some I harbour resentment towards, some I love with all my heart and soul.

Either way, every flatting experience I've had has has it's pros and cons, but boy oh boy I wish I could give it all away and settle down in my own apartment by myself.

Better blog early...

In the interests of keeping up the rules of the project (which are simple, I've just gotta blog every day) I thought I better post something.

In an advancement of my debilitating Twitter addiction, today I have bought a new phone - a 3G phone with which I can access Twitter - and tonight I am off to a 'TweetUp' at a bar.

I am a nerd, and I just need to embrace it.

After the Tweet Up I'll be heading to a showing of Rocky Horror. I don't expect to make it home before midnight, and thus the filler-type blog.

In other news, it's exactly one month until I am in Wellington, and a month and one day until I turn 27. That means that there's 3 years, one month and one day left of this project.

How scary.

Arts and Crafts

Last weekend, I bought this ugly green suitcase...

I bought it as I've been developing a wee hobby of late. Over the weekend I throughly cleaned it, and added a base coat.

Tonight I've completed the first part of my latest art project - clearly only one side has been done and there's still plenty to go yet, but what do you think?

New ideas are hard to think of when everyone around me is smarter than Einstein

I lost the subject line game today. I was far too excited about a wee project I've got going on and I forgot a word. I was going to try wuss out, but it is an easy one, and Holly will call me a piker all day tomorrow if I don't.

Coming up with new ideas is really difficult. Hollywood proves that every second week by issuing remakes, adaptations and sequels to anything that has had even minor success. I see it regularly in myself as I look for the 'next big thing'.

The worst thing about thinking of a new idea is thinking of a good new idea. I mean, a new idea isn't actually that hard, but one worth the time it took to think of it - or even one that could make you money - is a lot harder to do.

It perhaps comes down to creativity. While I could describe myself as artistic - in that I paint, and I write, I don't tend to think of myself as creative. I can't imagine and paint a scene - instead I paint predefined shapes for the most part - I'm not that great at thinking of stories either. Sometimes I can, but more often than not I'm writing non-fiction in one form or another.

I am good at listening to other people's ideas - at offering my suggestions and at listening to their suggestions to mine. I'm the kind of person who builds on and refines ideas, rather than coming up with them. New ideas are all around us, good ideas are rare - and it's rarer still an idea arrives fully formed and thought out by one person without input from others. If everyone around you is smarter than Einstein and you do manage to have a new, good idea? Ask for input.

Maybe you've noticed...

I said things were going to change, and I'm hoping you've started to notice some of the changes already.

Firstly, I'm now located at a new address. The blog can now be found at http://www.kat.geek.nz. Shiny and new, update your bookmarks.

Secondly, the content is better - or at least I hope it's better. I'm attempting to write in advance more and undertake more editing, not to mention I'm trying to just write a higher quality of blog. There really is only so many times you can write 'I have nothing to say and I'm really busy' before both the writer and the audience get bored and give up, thankfully my mojo seems to have returned.

The third thing I plan to do is redesign the site. This blog was (and will remain) primarily about me - as opposed to a particular topic such as music or movies- but I'd like to make it a little more accessible to those who want to read what I say, but perhaps want to filter it by things they are actually interested in. For this I need someone who actually knows a little bit about webdesign. I know what I know and the last time I designed a website was the 90's so it's pretty clear that this is something I don't know. If anyone out there is interested in making a little bit of cash for what I envision will be a fairly simple job, let me know.

Finally, I'm releasing a little bit of pressure. I often want to record things that I don't necessarily want to publish in such a public arena. First and foremost this blog is about my life and the journey I'm taking to get wherever it is I'm going. As I'm sure you probably realise, not all of these moments are the kind of things I want to publish for all and sundry. For this purpose there is a private section to this blog.

Until now, if I wanted to publish a private entry, it had to be done in tandem with the public entry - i.e. I had to write two blogs. This rule is now gone. If I want to write about a private diary entry, I will, and all that will appear on the public site will be a placeholder. It may from time to time be joined by a link, or a picture I find interesting, but while the rule of posting every day stands, the post mightn't always be public.

So that's it, that's how I'm revising my site. Again, if you (or anyone you know and could recommend) is keen for some design work, drop me a line. I can't imagine it's going to be a big job, but then again, what do I know?

I am not a Google Queen

It might sound full-of-myself, but I'm a dab hand with Google. It's rare I need to find something and come up blank. Essentially I seem to have a talent for keywords and the ability to put small clues together to evolve those keywords until I have the information I need.

On the odd occasion, friends have come to me with a strange request - needing the name of a pub they heard a rumour of, a provider of an obscure service, or the name of a movie they once saw and only remember a few details of. I'm happy to help these people because they ask nicely and because I enjoy the challenge if I've got the time.

Lately however, a friend of mine has started to ask me to Google anything that offers anything more than a direct search and it is starting to get on my nerves. Often these requests come out of the blue, with impatience, and when I'm actually busy doing other things.

The requests usually begin with "Oh Google Queen", which is just the first thing that irks me. While I am able to operate Google and use it to find some very obscure things, beginning requests like that is just condescending. It's unlikely she begins any other favour request for any other friend in such a snarky manner, and it certainly doesn't make me want to help.

I'm also expected to fulfill the request right. now. Most of my friends asking for a favour begin by asking if I've got a spare sec, or they let me know it isn't urgent and I can do it when I have the chance - hell, they give me the opportunity to say no! But not this one. I once got a favour request at 4pm on a busy Wednesday via Facebook. Now, I'm on Facebook for 99% of the day in that it's open in a tab somewhere, but that's not the same as me actually watching that tab. It took 10 minutes for me to see the request. It was a pretty straight forward one so I started looking it up, to get a message saying "I have to leave, text it to me".

I had just found the information, confirmed it was correct and was typing up the text when she rang, practically demanding I tell her the answer.

At this point I made it pretty clear (in a friendly way) that I'd put my work aside to do her this favour, that I'd actually jumped on it and done it as soon as I could and that some patience would be appreciated, but given the fact that I'm still getting these requests, it clearly didn't sink in.

Since then she's asked me to Google other things for her and I'm sending through a pretty consistent and firm "do it yourself".

I really enjoy doing searches for people from time to time - the harder the better, I love a good challenge but those searches take time and in the end I'm not a Google substitute or a Google Queen, I just know Google-Fu.

#telethon in the 21st century

As a kid I loved dragging mattresses and blankets in front of the TV, where I'd settle in with my brother and a giant box of Lego to stay up as long as we could watching Telethon. I looked forward to Telethon every year, it's a fond memory. A relic from the 80's. Possibly one of the only relics I'm actually glad to see come back.

On Friday, mrvintage.co.nz posted an interesting tweet announcing the intention to build a fort and watch Telethon this weekend. This sentiment got picked up and soon quite a group were planning to recreate their childhoods and build forts.

I was definitely one of those people. It's been many years since my last fort-building attempt and so I wasn't sure how I'd do. Not only that but there are new challenges in building a fort for the 21st century - back in the 80's I just needed to access my Lego but in 2009 access to my laptop and Twitter was far more important.

In the end I managed to make a wicked fort. As I built it I made a time-lapse video so you could see how I went. It took about 40 minutes to put together and I'm happy to say it lasted the entire night - as it turns out, age has improved my fort-making ability.

With my fort made, I installed my laptop, set up TweetDeck, made a big plate of nachos and settled in for what has absolutely been the best Telethon ever.

The Telethon itself has been average. It's the usual fare of mostly sucking, but what's making it great is the Twitter community. During the night we bitched about awful singers, bemoaned our forts (which for most people began falling apart by midnight) and - our biggest achievement - we sent #telethon into the global trending topics list. With an achievement like that under our belts, what else was there to do but to go down to Telethon at 1am and meet a bunch of strangers?

Someone suggested we have a 'TweetUp' (that's a bunch of Tweeters 'meeting-up') at about 12.30am. It gained a bit of traction and suddenly I was putting on some pants and going to Telethon.

After a bit of trouble actually finding the place, we arrived and I saw the running man (who had been running on a treadmill for 7 hours at that point and was going for a total of 24 hours, the legend), briefly caught up with an old friend who was also there, met some people I'd met via Twitter and even got to see the control room where we got a scattering of applause for helping to send them into the trending topics and had a chat about how the whole social media has been working out for them. There was even a rather surreal moment when they realised that I was "the fort girl" (from the video).

I got to see Karl Urban (who is absolutely welcome in my fort anytime), a couple of Shortie stars, a giant bread fight and Shavaughn Ruakere get a pizza to the face care of Nick D. I danced with Austin Powers to The Opensouls and had the dubious pleasure of seeing a Pussycat Doll covers band. It was my first live Telethon (I always wanted to go as a kid but never had a chance) and I had fun. We were there for about an hour and a half all up before we decided to make our way home again.

If it weren't for Twitter I'd have watched the Telethon, but I wouldn't have made my super-awesome fort. I wouldn't have had the level of interaction and involvement I've experienced and I absolutely would have missed out.

Overall I had a great time, and I have to say thanks for the Tweeps for being a large part of that. All for a good cause, big thumbs up for Telethon 2009.

Screenshots and photos

Interior of the fort

#telethon trending 11.39pm

#telethon trending 11.47pm

#telethon trending 12.04am

Shavaughn Ruakere getting a pizza to the face

The Opensouls

John Campbell's thank-you message to the Tweeps

Guns and Religion

Recently I've been reading a book called Columbine by Dave Cullen.

On April 20, 1999, when Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold attacked their high school half a world away in Colorado, I was 16 years old, attending a high school in a mid-sized town in New Zealand. I suffered the same angst and issues every teenager deals with. I was on the fringes of the high school social hierarchy and the event affected me as I think it affected many people my age around the world. I wasn't directly involved or affected, but I felt the ripples.

I don't have a strange fascination in the event, but because of my age at the time, I took an interest. The event horrified me as it did most of the world watching and so when I found this book sitting in my local bookshop I had to pick it up and see what it was about.

I was hooked on the first page. The book itself is a thoroughly researched, 360 degree view of the event. The narrative is fractured - sometimes focusing on the shooting itself, sometimes on the survivors, sometimes on the killers. Sometimes it's looking at actual events, sometimes on perceived events.

It addresses the facts and the fiction, and it does the one thing I most wanted it to do: it addresses the myth of Cassie Bernall.

When I was 16, in my high school, suffering angst, I was also a devoted youth group attendee. As practically every church world wide would have done at the time, we discussed the martyrdom of Cassie. The story that hit the media was that Cassie was asked by Eric if she believed in God. Cassie said yes, and Cassie died for that.

That story has been a central pillar in my own personal beliefs ever since. For 10 years, I have judged my faith in many things by wondering 'would I knowingly die for this?' It's an interesting measuring stick. While part of you hopes you would have the courage of your convictions (and this goes way beyond religion and faith into values and morals too), you can never really know until that gun is pointed at your face and you have to really, genuinely make that decision.

The interesting thing is that Cassie's story has been debunked. She did not die a martyr, in fact she never had a chance, but interestingly, even knowing that, the lessons I have taken from the story over the years remain.

I don't like to discuss my religion and faith - it's pretty much the only area I'll genuinely shy away from discussing with people. I don't like discussing it because I believe my faith is between me and the Power I believe in, and that discussing these things only leads to judgement and ultimately fractures in social structure.

The martyrdom was the main thing I took away from the Columbine tragedy. It's what I remember the most, but it was a very small part of the overall event. This book is a must-read if you've got any interest in it at all. It's hard to put down and addresses pretty much everything (it spans a 10-year time period, from the events that spun the plan into motion to an account of how the survivors have coped in the long-term), every myth, every mistake and every moment of the tragedy.

There are lessons to learn from this. There have been other tragedies in the intervening years, but Columbine remains one of the ones that had a direct, lasting affect on the way I view the world.

Rants against Vodafone

Today I found a link to a video which was 10 straight minutes of ranting about why Vodafone sucks.

It got me thinking. Obviously I had my God-awful experience buying an HTC Magic a couple of months ago, but it's hardly the first time I've had problems with Vodafone.

I've been a Vodafone customer since I bought my first mobile in 2000. I've never owned a Telecom phone. I was on prepay until late 2006, when I switched to a contract.

When I first got my contract, it was a no-brainer. At the time I was spending $40-$50 a month on my mobile (this was just as Vodafone was bringing out text bundles and Best Mate). I did the math and realised that I could get 20 minutes a month + 600 texts to any network for $33/month. Up to, and even past this point I had had no reasons to complain about the service I was given. Whether I was naive or whether Vodafone were actually at one point a good company I'm not sure, but I can absolutely pin point where they started to piss me off.

About 10 months into my 12 month contract, Vodafone bought out the Txter plan 'for a limited time only' - that's the plan where you get 60 free minutes, a Best Mate and 600 texts to any network for $40/month. Again, I was faced with a no-brainer and I practically ran to the Vodafone store to sign up, only to discover I would be charged an early disconnection fee from my previous contract - despite the fact that Vodafone were actually going to be getting more money out of me on the new one.

That irked me. At this stage I'd been a Vodafone customer for 7 years and had never received any thanks, bonus or any incentive whatsoever for remaining their loyal customer. Instead, for spending more money, I was penalised. I dealt with it - the new plan was 'limited' and I got a WAY better deal out of it. I signed up for 24 months.

A few months into this contract, I somehow hit the 'credit limit' I had set on the original contract - despite having paid off my bill in full and having an outstanding balance of $0. This meant I was unable to call out - including to 777. I went into my local Vodafone store to discover that they couldn't fix the problem either, so I had to call 777 from the store and remain on hold for 30 minutes, talking to 3 different call center staff members before someone finally sorted out the issue.

24 hours later (yes, seriously) I could make calls again.

Still, I put up with their crap. No apologies, no free stuff, just 'like it or lump it, we don't care'.

I had no further problems with the beast for quite a while after that - my bills made sense, the phone worked, all was grand - until of course I tried to spend $500 on a new phone which Vodafone refused to take.

I mentioned in that last blog that Vodafone had laid the blame at the bank, who made an investigation into the matter. The investigation concluded that the bank had no record of the transaction and that it was an internal error on the part of Vodafone.

The only conclusion I have in my head is that Vodafone don't want my business. They certainly try very hard to dissuade me from liking them, so I was incredibly excited when 2degrees launched into the market this week.

Sadly, going to 2degrees at this stage isn't financially viable for me. Not only would it double the cost of my monthly bill (mostly due to the lack of text bundles), it's a pre-pay only scheme at the moment and frankly, I like being on contract and post-paying.

I want 2degrees to succeed though. I want them to get big and strong because it's pretty clear I'm not the only one who has a problem with Vodafone. I want 2degrees to be able to offer post-paid plans and to support smart phones - someone needs to challenge Vodafone's ridiculous data plans immediately. I want a little guy to support and to cheer for. 2degrees is my little guy, Vodafone is the bully, and frankly, the moment the little guy has the ability to introduce text bundles, post-paid billing and data plans, I (and I suspect many others) will be in very quickly.

Vodafone mightn't feel it quite yet, but it's coming. Everyone seems to know a horror story like this about Vodafone and up until now putting up with it has just been what we've had to do, but in a few months my contract is up, and I'll be redoing the math, and I will absolutely be keeping my eye out for alternatives because simply put - after 9 years, Vodafone have never, not once, made me feel like they value my business and loyalty.

Not entirely unexpected

This post does exist, but it's sitting in the Private Diaries section of this blog as it's not something I feel comfortable letting the entire Internet in on.

So here's a secret from Postsecret I like instead, to fill the gap a bit.

How (and why) to use Twitter

I’m completely addicted to Twitter right now, more so than I am to Facebook.

I love it. I can’t even explain why I love it, all I know is that this is fun. I’m going to try explain the love though because it’s one of those things that, if you ‘get’ it, you freaking love it – but if you can’t quite wrap your brain around it, you don’t understand the fuss.

I took up Twitter over a year ago when I started hearing the rumbles of this awesome new machine. I was one of the first people I knew on there (although it’s entirely probably Holly beat me to it, I can’t really remember). When I had my old phone I enjoyed updating my status periodically and seeing what was going on in the world. I kind of understood it, and I definitely used it, but I didn’t really ‘get’ it.

Then my phone had it’s unfortunate meeting with a glass of Coke and Twitter completely fell off my radar. I missed it a little but I associated it as being something I did with my phone, not as an internet-based social media.

Throughout this year I’ve made attempts to use and interact with Twitter and I’d been making a lot of progress with it, but then I went to an event on the possibilities of social media and suddenly it was like a key unlocked in my head.

When I got home that night I understood Twitter completely.

Before the event I had already developed the skills necessary to use Twitter. I knew the short cuts and I knew a few of the tricks – but I didn’t understand how to use them to develop a community, or how to engage people I’m talking to.

Honestly, I still don’t know how to do those things. Making witty observations, posting links of interest and talking to the right people is one thing, engaging those people is quite another.

So, are you new to Twitter? Have you wondered what it’s about? Do you not ‘get’ it? Here’s how to understand it.

Firstly, what is it? Imagine being able to send a text-message the world - a funny link, a photo, a witty observation, a restaurant recommendation, a message that you want to get out to a lot of interested people very quickly - Twitter is that tool.

Essentially you have 140 characters to say what you want - just like everyone else. The net result is a combination of useless waffle, advertising, and a myriad of stuff that is actually worth paying attention to. There are a few tricks to picking it up though, so below are a few hints on how to get the full value out of the tool.

• Use it. Twitter is, to quote Tim Nichols of 2degrees, an ‘acquired taste’, and you won’t acquire the taste unless you keep using it. I know you don’t get it, I know it’s weird, but seriously, just keep using it.
• Follow people. My recommendation is to follow your friends (it allows you to import your contacts), a few celebrities you like (there's a pretty comprehensive list at CelebrityTweet.com), a few businesses you respect and a few random people who live around you who you've never met. You'll slowly build up a base of your favourites over time - and if someone annoys you or bores you to tears you can always choose to unfollow them later.
• Interact. Twitter allows several methods of interacting (outlined below). Use them, take part and build a rapport with other Twitterers. This is the best bit.
• Learn the lingo. This is how you interact with other users. The three main things you need to know are outlined below

@ - having this in front of a user name means it will show up in that users' feed. You can use it to have conversations with people, to respond to something they said, or to give them credit for a link or tweet they alerted you to.

RT - Indicates the message is a ReTweet. ReTweeting is how messages go viral.

d - Got something to say to someone but don't want to tell the whole Twitterverse? You can direct message anyone as long as they follow you.

• Use a client. The normal Twitter page is OK, but for a full experience there are several clients you can use to keep track of your tweets. Hardcore users who follow many people favour clients like Tweetdeck which allows you to sort people into groups (I, for example, have 'favourite people', 'other people', 'celebrities', 'organisations' and 'updates') If you use Firefox I strongly recommend TwitterFox, it doesn't sort them, but if you're not following as many people it just sits quietly in the corner of your browser and allows you to see what's going on.

Those are my hints. I suggest you head over there and see what the fuss is about. If you're curious, commit to really using it for a week. Tweet about the man in line who just said something stupid, tweet about public transport, just tweet, and interact with other Twitterers. Give it 7 days. You'll either start to get it, or at the end of 7 days you'll continue to think it's stupid. Either way, you tried right?

Users you should follow

• @katdotgeekdotnz (me)
• @jadeey (Holly)
• @joegreenz (if you're going to follow a random guy, follow this one)
• @johnkeypm (I mightn't like him, but I like that he tweets)
• @AnaSamways (author of Sideswipe and the Spareroom blog - wicked links throughout the day to push away the boredom)
• @hankgreen, @realjohngreen (yup, the Vlogbrothers)
• @boburnham (Judd Apatow's favourite YouTube Star - who also happens to have some wickedly amusing tweets)
• @p_money
• @RHYTHMANDVINES
• @buzzchannel
• @Orcon (one of the best examples I've seen of how a business can utilise Twitter, and an example I hope to emulate)
• @theboywholived, @halfbloodprince (fan accounts for Harry Potter and Severus Snape respectively. No-one knows who mans them but they're known to have some pretty amusing fights from time to time)

My life is like the movies

I watched Amelie again this week and I noticed a pretty striking resemblance between the life and character of Amelie, and the life and character of myself.

Amelie is one of my all-time favourite movies. It has never failed to make me happy. The eccentric, oddball characters, the garden gnomes (it's this movie that spawned my love for the little creatures), the little observations - they all wrap up into one hell of a lovable piece of cinema.

Now, forgetting that I am not cute as a pixie, French or living in a wonderfully whimsical world, there are a number of similarities.

We both take pleasure in the small things in life. I still look up at sky rises with the same wonder I had as a child, I love old buildings and watching sparrows fighting over food. Odd observations make me smile, I dance in public, I love the feel of the wind pushing my hair out of my face. I know what makes me happy, and I don't really care what anyone else has to say about it.

We both want the best for those around us, and we're not above a little manipulation to make sure they take the big steps we know will bring them happiness.

We're comfortable being alone. Most of my spare time is spent in solitary pursuits. That doesn't mean I'm anti-social or against spending time with other people, it just means I'm happy being me, and I like being with myself.

We're both giant 'fraidy cats when it comes to love and relationships. We drop hints, make notes, develop strategems, live out the relationship in our head - because on one level or another we're afraid to put that trust in another person. He's a special person, and when he finds us, he totally understands why we do the things we do, even if we don't quite understand them ourselves.

Is it a bad thing that I'm like Amelie? I don't think so. I think that one day I'll meet my Nino and he'll get me, and I'll get him. Until he turns up I'll continue enjoying the small things in life, helping those around me and living the life I want to live, and I'm perfectly happy that way.