Early memories

The last week, particularly the last few days, has been a strange one.

Last week, Sir Howard Morrison passed away and since then the news media have been in Rotorua to cover his funeral. This has been incredible for me because I grew up in Rotorua and at over my time have known many members of the Morrison clan.

His daughter was one of the most influential people in my life. She was my primary school teacher for several years and I loved her. I remember when our class was on a marae stay and I got homesick how she sat next to me and stroked my head until I fell asleep - a little thing, but no one had ever done that for me before and it stands out in my mind. She is a woman I respected beyond even possibly my own mother, and seeing her on the television, farewelling her father, was somewhat of a privilege. She retains all the mana and humour I remember her having all those years ago.

Outside of that, the funeral was attended by my primary school principal and my old community constable. If I were to take a guess (because clearly I didn't see everyone at the funeral on TV) I would say many of the people from my past were in attendance - it's just who that family is in the community I grew up in.

I remember one particular birthday party that must have happened when I was about 9 or 10. The most popular girl in my class invited me and we were having a great time on her farm. I can't remember what we did or who was there, but I do remember 3 men on horseback who turned up to say hello - one of whom was Sir Howard Morrison. That was the first of a couple of times I came across the man in my youth, but certainly the most memorable, it made the girl whose birthday it was even cooler that a celebrity turned up to wish her happy birthday.

Rest in Peace Sir Howard, you were a great man.

BDO 2010 Baby!

The first Big Day Out announcement was made today. It didn't include most of the rumors (including David Bowie) but it did do one better - it includes my current favourite artist, Girl Talk.

For the most part, I'm happy with the line up. My only gripe is that 90% of the artists have already been to a Big Day Out. I've already seen Lily Allen, Dizzee Rascal, Peaches, Muse and Powderfinger. Granted, I'd happily see Lily, Dizzee and Peaches again - and I didn't really pay much attention to Muse the last time around so I'd be happy to give them another go - but what I really want to see are acts I haven't seen before like The Gossip and Florence and the Machine.

Still, there are bands I've never heard of before to investigate as always - Karnivool, The Temper Trap, Midnight Juggernauts, Mastodon, The Horrors, Blue Juice, Kisschasy and Tame Impala.

Not to mention the ones I've heard of, but couldn't pick out of a line up - Kasabian, Rise Against, Magic Dirt and The Decemberists.

My plan for the next few weeks is to slowly make my way through the MySpace pages of the acts in the lineups for both Rhythm and Vines and the Big Day Out and get a feel for who I want to see, and who I can miss...

The only one I know I'm seeing - as many times as I possibly can (I'm hoping for sideshows) - is Girl Talk.

YEAH BABY!

Screw you, Twitter is awesome.

Over the last few weeks I've had to defend Twitter from all corners. My friends have scorned it, I'm constantly fending off eye-rolls and the media like to attack it as a 'fad' and as 'useless'.

Maybe it is a fad, but it's definitely not useless. It's changed my life.

Now, I am the first person to admit, I'm addicted to Twitter. I have even described myself as a "Twitter addict" on the cards I had printed specifically for tweet ups.

I check it regularly, I update it many times a day, I use it to make and to keep in contact with friends, I use it to communicate with businesses and I use it to help chronicle my life.

Twitter has helped me discover new places to eat and drink, has gained me new friends and contacts, keeps me up-to-date with the news and the weather (who needs the paper when Twitter delivers the news first?), has won me new CDs and movie tickets and has generally been the thing that's made Auckland worth sticking around for.

I now have girls, and a partner in crime for mischief on the town to go to concerts with. I'm learning about gigs and new bands and new movies and opening myself to new experiences... because of a random website which allows us all to communicate with each other succinctly and effectively.

Forgetting about how it's changed how I interact with business, what Twitter has done for me personally is just incredible. Maybe it's all a fad, or maybe I'll get something larger out of it, but I've seen bands I wouldn't normally have seen, I've been places I normally wouldn't have been, I've met people I most definitely wouldn't have normally met and it's opened up my world considerably.

So if you're a Twitter hater, I say screw you. I know what it's done for me, it's helped me meet dozens of like-minded people, see things I would have never seen otherwise, it gets me free stuff, cheap stuff and help when I need it.

Maybe it's a fad, but if it is, it's the best one since chatter rings.

Washing Machine Blues

I seem to have the worst luck with washing machines.

The first one to go kaput on me was when I was living in Thorndon. It used to like disconnecting the drainage hose from the machine and flooding our house. That was awesome. Every time it would happen the house would smell like dog for a few weeks and then just as we got rid of the smell, it would happen again.

In Mt Wellington we didn't even have a machine for a long, long time. I had to hand-wash everything for about 6-8 weeks. It sucked. I was waiting for my flatmate to move hers in. To be honest, I would have been happy to buy one, but she had one and just took forever to move it in. When it did finally arrive it was missing a hose. That meant that we had to bucket the water from the sink into the machine - twice - every time we wanted to do a load.

After that experience, I was incredibly happy to move into a flat with a working washing machine. It was wonderful for about 4 months... and then it stopped filling up with water.

Rather than get it fixed, we just used the hose to fill it up directly which was a bit of work (and occasionally led to a flooded bathroom) but overall it worked well. That said, I was very happy when, at the Hobbit Hole, I had a working (if very small) machine.

Now, in my awesome new flat, I find myself with washing machine problems again. The damn thing just won't turn on at all. It's frustrating. We all need to do laundry and we're all stuck waiting, slowly getting down to our granny panties.

Thankfully the landlord has agreed to pay to get it fixed and my flatmate is getting someone around tomorrow to do the job. With luck the part will be able to go right in and there won't be any problems but... we shall see.

Favourite Feature

I think many girls, when asked, would choose their eyes as their favourite feature.

That's not necessarily true for all those girls. Many may favour their breasts, or their butt, but the eyes are seen as the 'safe' feature. That's what they'll tell you - whether or not it's actually true.

For years I said my lips. I like my lips, they're full, they're well moisturised... I never highlighted them with lipstick because I prefer to enhance my eyes, which I feel are the weaker feature and I felt that my lips spoke for themselves, but for a very long time they were my favourite feature.

Until I bought my favourite Little Black Dress.

I've got a few LBD's (and even a Little Purple Dress), but one in particular seems to highlight the bits that should be highlighted and minimises the less-attractive areas. It's actually got to the point where I'm beginning to think of it as my 'lucky' dress as it probably has an 85% hook up rate.

One of the things I always hear from friends when I put the dress on is compliments about my legs, and after hearing this a few times I started to realise that my best feature is actually my legs.

Because I've always been a walker and because of the way I carry weight, my legs are actually pretty damn awesome. Yes, it sounds full of myself to say that, but I think everyone should have one feature they are proud of. For me, that feature is my legs. I love them, and I'm beginning to develop a penchant for showing them off.

I've started buying shoes that make them look longer, and I've started wearing shorter skirts. I mightn't have great boobs, or a flat stomach, but I have a sexy pair of legs that I'm proud to show off at any time.

And that, is worth shouting from the rooftops.

In the near future...

Right now I'm trying to make a decision. I'm trying to decide if I want to live in Auckland or if I want to live in Wellington.

I decided just over a month ago to give Auckland a 3 month shot. Recent developments have meant I may need to shorten that shot a little, but I'm still trying to make the most of life here and to enjoy it.

The problem is, while before my birthday I had been enjoying Auckland - almost to the point where I didn't want to go to Wellington for my birthday - the thing I had overlooked was that Wellington deserved an equal shot.

While I was there I wasn't fussed about moving back - to the point where a few people teased me about having 'converted'. I enjoyed myself, but it wasn't until I arrived back in Auckland that the difference became so... stark.

The fact is in the last week I have missed Wellington badly. Really badly. This trip was special because I met new people and had new experiences which is something I wouldn't normally have done on a Wellington trip, but which I have been doing a lot of recently in Auckland... and it seems I like doing it in Wellington more.

Due to certain circumstances I refuse to make a snap decision, but the fact is Wellington has regained the pull I thought it had lost.

So over the next two months I have two more trips to Wellington planned - one in October and one in November. The one in October is a road trip with a couple of my Auckland girls on which we plan to go crazy in town and enjoy every bloody minute of it, and the purpose of the November trip will be decided at a later date. Maybe it'll be the last push to decide, perhaps it will be letting it go, perhaps it will be something entirely different, but I can't give Auckland three months without giving Wellington a real chance too.

Maybe a pros and cons list will help, but that's a blog for another day.

Anyone out there have an opinion? Share it in comments.

Losing It

Over the past three months I've been losing weight at quite a rapid rate. My clothes look better, I feel healthier, the scales are kind to me and so is the mirror.

So, what's my secret? Am I on the Lemon Detox? Am I dieting? Am I at the gym 6 days a week?

Nope, none of those. I eat healthily in that I eat veges and try to make healthy choices - I don't go crazy, but I also don't deny myself a muffin or a V or whatever else it is I may want.

I go to the gym, but while I aim for a minimum of two visits a week, I don't beat myself up if that doesn't happen for some reason. I walk to work and back every day which is about 6km total with a hill both ways, but I've always been a big walker.

In fact, there is only really one thing that has changed recently which could be contributing to this incredible weight loss.

A few months ago I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovary Syndrome - which is both common, and something I have had my entire life. It has various side effects and it means different things for different people, but on me it's caused me to store weight for years - weight it turns out, when treated, just melts away.

But it's not a comfortable process. My appetite has changed fairly dramatically recently. I don't eat as much as I used to and my stomach is nearly constantly in some state of 'upset' - particularly after eating, and basically my whole insides kinda feel like they're being dragged out. I could go into more detail here, but trust me, you don't want to read it.

I might have gone down 3 belt notches in the last month but weight loss at the rates I'm experiencing could never be comfortable.

I'm not taking any combination of crazy drugs - only one very common treatment based on natural processes to even out hormone levels, I haven't changed my habits, I'm simply coming back to the natural state I should probably have always been in.

I've known for at least 10 years something was up, but I've always lacked the courage to go see a doctor about it. I only ever told two people about it. One of those was the person I turned to to push me to a doctor after I saw my own behavior mirrored in my mother. I buried my head in the sand for a decade before I finally got help.

I don't think it's worth thinking about the 'what ifs' of if I had got it treated earlier. It's not worth turning it into regrets, more about turning what I have now into opportunities.

Until now, my PCOS has been something I've only approached in locked posts. For a while it hasn't been something I've discussed with many people, short of telling my closest friends I had it. That in itself is unusual for me, but I've been talking more with friends lately and I'm becoming more comfortable with it. There are other side effects I'm noticing, but I thought I'd slowly approach these through further blogs. I know I'm not the only girl I know affected by it and maybe if I share my story it might help someone else.

Some of the things I am planning to talk about are things I've considered posting to other blogs anonymously, but at the same time I'd like to own the material as my own. It's all stuff I want to share, but it's all stuff I just don't talk about.

But apparently there are very few limits to what goes on this blog, so we shall see.

The Wellington Experience, the Extended Edition

This post is simply the photos from the trip. Good times.

Cleo, the mutt that lives at the flat. So adorable.

The ridiculous sink at the fancy-pants hotel
Dora, Joe and Shera at the fancy-pants hotel
Joe, Rory, Shera, Dane and Ang at the fancy-pants hotel
Me and Joe at the fancy-pants hotel
Dane at the fancy-pants hotel
Joe wearing a bowl at the fancy-pants hotel
PUPPIES!! They were so cute, they totally snuggled up and made themselves cuter for the camera
Dane and a puppy

Dane and the Colossal Squid
Giant dildo. That's a 1.5 litre bottle next to it.
Right after putting the red in my hair - so pretty!
The very large, and very awesome, platter at the Tweet Up
Young Naly_D's ass
The notes we left at JJ Murphy's
The sunset from the plane on the way home

The Wellington Experience Part Six

My final day was set aside for Holly. After getting up, showering and packing, Dora and I grabbed coffees at Midnight, dropped off a thank-you present for one of the girls I'd met while I was there and jumped on a bus for the train station.

We jumped on a train, chatting until I got to Holly's station where I said goodbye to Dora and went out to lunch with Holly.

Given Holly's on a big health kick at the moment I thought it would be an ideal time to start my detox - no alcohol and no smoking (in particular, although aiming for more veges and less caffeine as well) for 7 days, so when we got to Queensgate I got a Ka Pai salad and a detox Tank juice. Given I think I got to sleep after sunrise the night before, I wasn't quite all there but we hung out, looked around the shops, went back to Holly's place to watch Dr. Horrible's Singalong Blog, film a wee nerd project we're working on and also watch the new episode of The Office - which was really cool to be able to watch with Holly. It's been a long time since we watched The Office together, let alone a season premiere.

Then, in a move most unlike Holly we decided to go to the airport very early. Ridiculously early in fact. Early even for me. The good thing was that in leaving so much time there was absolutely no stress so when we got lost after picking up my suitcase, we just went for a tiki tour. Then we even went for a wee journey around Miramar to check out Weta and Stone Street before going to the airport, checking in and grabbing some food.

It's always sad to say goodbye but nearly every journey these days, Holly is the last one I see, and often she's also the first. Even though we've both got busy lives down there, I love being able to create 'Holly Time' and hang out like the geeks we are for a few hours before saying goodbye.

So that was Wellington. I realise that these posts are a bit 'Dear Diary' but I like to keep the memories of these trips because every moment and every person I see down there is absolutely precious to me. I had a completely amazing time down there and tomorrow's post will be a photo one. After that, we'll be back to regular programming, I promise.

The Wellington Experience Part Cinq

Friday was... epic. I left the house a bit later than usual and sent Dane a text to see what he was up to. I skipped my morning coffee at Midnight (it was packed when I got there) and instead tried a little bakery that Naly_D had told me about called ArtCraft on Bond Street. Thankfully I hadn't been led astray and I had some great bakery food overlooking the harbour.

I meandered around, finding some good books and just hanging out until the time I'd arranged to meet Dane. We decided to go to Enigma (because that's just what we do) and then went and saw Shera at work one last time.

On our way out of Shera's work I suggested to Dane we do some shopping. I had plans to wear my LBD out that night and unfortunately all my accessories had been planned around colours that now clashed with my hair.

Thankfully Dane is the gayest straight man I know and jumped at the chance. We bought stockings, shoes and a handbag over the space of about 2 hours before we went back to Enigma to caffeine up. Unfortunately we really couldn't decide what to do after that so we pretty much just sat there for an hour chatting and putting graffiti on the furniture. Dane decided it was time to go to work so I bade him farewell and dragged my purchases back home. I organised myself, got changed, put on my face and headed back out again. Next stop was dinner with old friends.

I'd planned to see J&J on Wednesday but unfortunately my stomach was playing up and the trip just really wasn't in me. However tonight I was feeling better so we met up and went to Viva Mexico in Left Bank who served traditional Mexican fare that was really quite brilliant. Cheap, friendly service, good food.

We caught up on what had been happening and reminisced about old times before moving onto Plum for coffee. At about 9.30 I thought I better make tracks - I'd been planning to catch Lady Sings The Blues at Bodega and J&J had moved out into suburbia so had to head home.

I wandered up to Bodega and got in to then wait 20 minutes for a drink. Bodega was packed! Just after I got my beer, a lady (Sophie O'Dool) began singing the blues and it was pretty good - though I'm sure it would have been better if I had a full appreciation of the blues.

After Sophie's set I decided to flag it and headed back up to the flat - someone was bound to be there and Dora had said she'd meet me there to go out. I got there and a couple of the peeps were watching Chopper which... well it's not a film I really like to watch, so I jumped on Twitter which was kinda nice. I'd been avoiding it for the most part for much of the week (my friends were giving me me dirty looks) and being able to chat with my friends back home helped.

Soon enough Dora suggested we head out. One of the guys piped up and told us another friend was working at the Bollywood Fusion Bar and that we could probably get free drinks as it was his last night. We figured that was worth a go so, after a quick stop at BK, that's where we headed.

When we got there we got a bit of a surprise because it wasn't Bollywood at all - it was Salsa!

Earlier in the night J&J had given me some post-its and some rubber bands that were shaped as pigs. We decided that during the night we would visit our old haunts, giving each bar person a rubber band and leaving them a note on a post it.

We said hi to our friend The Bartender, got drinks and presented him with a piggy before going to sit down and watch the salsa. I'd never watched people doing the salsa before so I never realised just how much passion it contained - I mean obviously there's plenty, it's a passionate dance - but having never seen it I'd never really realised just how sexy it it was.

I was enjoying watching the people dance when a guy walked up and asked if either Dora or I wanted to dance. Dora decided I was going to so suddenly there I was, learning the Salsa. For the most part it was really fun, even when I stuffed up. After my dance I said thank you to my teacher, sat down, finished my drink and wrote a post it for our friend The Bartender telling him to join us later after he finished and we moved on to the next bar.

The next bar was just across the road at the old Cell Bar (now named Hashigo Zak) for a craft beer. The bar's absolutely stocked with them. The bartender here was Dora's flatmate (the one who owns the massive dildo) and we gave him a pig, a post-it note and got a glass of Wicked Elf beer. We sat down and reminisced. It was hard not to. For a while we spent a lot of time in that space.

After our beers we decided we were getting a little tired and irish coffees from Enigma were in order. Not sure if they were going to be open or not, we wrote two post its. The first was "Dear Enigma, you were a stop on Kat and Dora's night, and you were closed. Boo!" and the second was "Dear Enigma, you were a stop on Kat and Dora's night, and you were open! Hoorah!" We were lucky enough to be able to attach the happy post it note to the coffee machine. We gave the guys piggys and sat outside, chatting and smoking and perking up with the caffeine.

We decided the next stop would be JJ Murphy's for cider in a booth. It was here we were joined by The Bartender. We'd started writing countless post it notes for the person stuck cleaning our table by this point. We can only hope they read them. More likely they were just thrown away, along with the pig we left.

After the last-call we picked up and found the next stop (the Good Luck bar) closing so we figured we'd just call the pub crawl over and go back to the flat for some more drinks. We hung out, chatted, drank vodka for a while and ended up crashing out at some point to wake up at 10am for my last day in Wellington.

The Wellington Experience Part Quatre

Thursday morning began bright and early with Midnight Coffee and Real Groovy. I managed to track down Girl Talk on CD which made me incredibly happy. I hadn't been able to track it down in Auckland because I couldn't work out what genre I'd find him in. In Auckland genres are 'Drum and Bass', 'House', 'Dance' etc but in Wellington it's just 'Dance' and there he was under 'G'. Score.

Most of my day on Thursday was spent getting my hair done. When I'd lived in Wellington I'd always wanted to get my hair cut and coloured at Jam who, to me, are the best hairdressers in Wellington. This trip I made sure it happened. The hairdresser had a look at my hair and declared that due to the amounts of dye in it, he needed to bleach it first.

The entire thing took three and a half hours in four stages. First bleaching, then adding the base colour, then an over-colour and finally an actual cut.

The net result however is amazing and I'm completely happy with it. If you want your hair done in Wellington, go to Ben at Jam. He's a wizard. The colour is exactly what I wanted and the price wasn't much more than I'd have paid for a cut and treatment alone in Auckland.

After my 3 hours in the seat I met Holly on her lunchbreak, then meandered back up to Te Aro where I got some fish and chips and sat in the sun, watching the people go by.

Soon enough however it was time to get ready to go to the TweetUp and meet the Wellington tweeters, so I ran past the house, put on my face and headed down to The Southern Cross.

There is a thing with me and tweet ups, I always - always - go to the wrong place. Once again I was out the back and everyone else was inside. Awesome. Thankfully I was rescued and as people started showing up I started recognising faces and I started getting into it a bit more.

It does always amaze me how, with the exception of the Aro musios, I am always worn out by meeting new people in large groups. The more people I know, the longer I can go, but it definitely took some time to get into it and, as lovely as everyone was, it was a bit of a relief at the end of the night to head back to the flat for a beer.

Everyone was just finishing drinks when I got there before heading out to Bodega for a Jimmy Hendrix covers night. I decided to tag along and we saw some nice band action but unfortunately the lead singer had a pair of skinny jeans that actually freaked me out. I've said it before but I can't trust a man in skinny jeans and this guy... well he was dancing.

Thankfully, being a Jimmy Hendrix covers band, the band itself took center-stage for most of it and Mr Skinny-Jeans would hang out - dancing - out back.

We had, however rocked up late so the gig ended pretty soon and... to be honest it gets a little murky here. I'd love to tell you what I did - I'm pretty sure we would have gone back to the flat for a while and then home to bed - but I can't. I know for a fact I got home in one piece and I remember getting into bed, but everything between leaving Bodega and bed is kinda blank. That doesn't happen often - not even Friday night, which was by far the best night of them all...

The Wellington Experience Part Trois

I woke up bright and early on Wednesday lacking a hangover and curled up in front of Sunrise for the last hour or so. Shera left at 10 for work and an hour later, Dane and I hauled our asses downstairs to check out. We walked outside, blinked at each other and decided Enigma for breakfast was the way to go.

Enigma is the old Espressoholic and last time I was there something about it didn't feel... right. That said, I was told it had found it's groove so gave it another go and was pleasantly surprised. It's not the old Espressoholic, and it's no longer my favourite place, but I definitely spent some time there on this trip. We got breakfast and decided we'd go see Shera and decide what to do next from there.

Work for Shera was dead so she made us coffee and we hung out, eventually deciding we'd go see puppies and hang out at Te Papa. The puppies were super-cute and Te Papa hadn't really changed many displays since I was there in April but we did see the new level 3 exhibition going in and it looked very cool, so I'll check that out next time. After paying my visit to the Goldie (my favourite artist), we grabbed Wholly Bagels and delivered lunch back to Shera.

We grabbed my bags from the hotel, jumped in a cab and went to go to drop them at Dora's house... which in and of itself was an interesting experience. It turns out Dora lives with two 21 year old boys who are... well, 21 year old boys. I wasn't quite aware of this when I arrived in the house to find a giant dildo on the couch. Not just a small one, the thing was HUGE.

So I freaked out and practically ran out of the house. I rang Dora to ask what the hell!? She somehow managed to calm me down and got me to come join her at Midnight for coffee - which was waiting for me when I arrived. I was convinced to give it one night and if it was still freaking me out in the morning I could find another couch. We had a bit of a chat before we were joined by Dora's friend Sam.

Soon enough we decided to get some beer and head back to the flat for a few drinks. After a couple of hours there we moved out to The Bristol for pool and $4 handles. My stomach was playing up pretty badly so there wasn't much drinking for me but I got to soak up the atmosphere a bit - given I used to live in the flats behind the Bristol it definitely bought back memories, however soon we lost our table in a challenge and the music was driving us a little mental so we headed back to the flat again.

When we got back, most of the people were asleep so we ended up outside, playing guitar and singing. The great thing about hanging out with musios is the guitar got passed around and we ended up singing (or listening to) a veritable catalog of rock under the stars.

Unfortunately, the cold did get us after a while and so we went inside to hang out quietly and chat before everyone started making 'work/uni tomorrow' signs and I got to go home to the dildo flat. Thankfully with a few drinks in me they were much funnier so I managed to sleep well enough. Well enough that I didn't plan to go find another couch in the morning anyway.

The Wellington Experience Part Deux

On the Tuesday I woke up to MANY happy birthday texts, tweets and Facebook messages - it could not have been more of a contrast to last year. After checking out and having breakfast at Midnight, the first thing I had to take care of was organising the cash funds and the hotel for that night. So I made my way to an internet cafe and started researching. Soon enough I landed on the Century City Grand Mercure on Tory Street which promised two rooms and a mini bar at a price I liked. I organised to meet Dane and Shera later on and went on a wander around the central city by myself for a while.

On my meander I spotted a tweet from someone I followed asking if anyone in the central city would give her a cigarette. It had been Random Acts of Kindness day earlier this month but I didn't do a ROK at the time because I think the act of doing it on a particular day completely negates the random part of the act. So, given I was in the central city and had cigarettes I decided I'd help her out and not long after that I was helping out someone I'd never met before in my life.

After the random act I wandered around Cuba St and bought an expensive bottle of Italian wine for dinner that night before meeting up with Dora at Midnight. We wandered down to Left Bank to Satay Kingdom for lunch before meeting Dane and Shera and heading over to the fancy-hotel.

When we got there we realised that this place was brand-spanking new. The bottom level hadn't even been quite completed. We checked in and went up to our suite to find the place... like a spaceship. It was very white and modernistic. The art was generic, the lack of plants and wood put me at unease. It was all glass, metal, white and straight lines.

It also lacked a mini bar.

We checked it out for a while before Dora had to go home and I had to go meet another Twitter person for milkshakes at Sweet Mother's Kitchen - leaving Dane and Shera to enjoy the hotel for an hour or so.

While I left them alone, I went and met Naly_D who was one of the tweeters I was most excited to meet. He was great - he had suggested Sweet Mother's for milkshakes over my usual Fidel's who have apparently gone downhill - and I wasn't disappointed. Not only that but they had curly fries - another win over last year when they were out - as well. Naly_D was just as great in person as he is online and somehow managed to get away with calling me a prostitute before I returned back to the hotel.

I hung out with Dane and Shera, had a shower, a glass of wine and got ready for dinner while we waited for Holly. She turned up and admired our space-age hotel before we headed out to go to the world's tiniest restaurant, Il Piccolo.

On entering the restaurant you notice a few things. Firstly the incredible aroma of garlic, Parmesan and tomato. Then you realise that there are literally five tables in the place. Maximum capacity at any given time is 14 - and the tables were never empty. The place is a little gem and definitely worth visiting for a special occasion or with someone for a romantic night - the only thing I'd recommend anyone going there is aware of is that the prices are plus GST. There was a little bit of shock about the bill. Other than that, wonderful night.

Holly departed at this point and Dane, Shera and I wandered back to the spaceship. In the restaurant I'd had probably 2/3's of a bottle of wine which I was very much feeling. We got back, relaxed for a bit and then Dora arrived with a few of the people from the flat.

And at that point things get a little blurry. We watched half of Outrageous Fortune, we drank, we talked loads, played drinking games and then at about 3am everyone had left (much worse for wear) and Dane, Shera and I all crashed out in our unfamiliar hotel beds.

The Wellington Experience Part Un

The next few posts are going to be all about Wellington. Please bear with me.

One of the main reasons I made it down at all was due to Jetstar's $13 tickets. I was lucky in that Jetstar's awful reputation, in my case, turned out to be pretty inaccurate. I didn't have any problems with it at all. I got down easily and on time, no worries.

On arrival, I jumped in a shuttle and made my way to the hotel I was staying in that night. Holly was just going to lunch just as I got checked into the hotel so I arranged to meet her at Subway... only to discover I actually went to the wrong Subway.

Bit of an Aucklander fail there.

However, I soon found her and taught her how to eat a meatball sub - which I'd been promising to do for months - it's not that hard but I know plenty of people who can't. After lunch I dropped Holly back at work and met up with Dora at Midnight and this is when things started in motion that would make the whole week just... awesome.

Dora had told me she knew a bunch of musicians and awesome people in Aro that I would love. On the first afternoon/evening I had the pleasure of meeting them... and pretty much spent every evening after that either at the flat or with them.

It's hard to explain the why of this. I know so many people in Wellington and I love all the friends I do have down there, but this trip was overwhelmingly about meeting new people for me. For the most part my friends down there have moved on and, while they are happy to see me or make time for me while I am down there, for many of them, their lives wouldn't normally include me. Those who would happily include me in their everyday lives I made special time for, but otherwise I spent my time meeting new people because if I'm moving back, I'm going to need new friends as well as old ones.

So my first night was spent meeting possibly a dozen new people. We drank, laughed, smoked, hung out, listened to one of the flatmates (a DJ) spin the decks, listened to the (very good) hip hop of another flatmate, patted an incredibly friendly dog and was generally welcomed with open arms.

While we were there we had a brain wave. I'd planned to spend an entire week in hotels but really what I needed was a place to crash that was central. Dora's place offered the perfect spot. The plan was that instead of getting an ok place for 5 nights, I'd get a GREAT place for 1 night. My conditions on the great place was that it must have two rooms - so that I could invite Shera and Dane to stay with me - and that it must have a mini bar. It was an awesome plan.

At midnight I was wished happy birthday and soon after that I made my way back to the hotel where I had a shower and mucked around a little before bed.

Looking back, I'm glad I met these people and didn't stay at the hotel. The whole week was a blur of awesome and it all comes back to this night where I met a bunch of random strangers and for the first time in a very long time, felt instantly like I belonged.

Weight loss

Since I was 16 I have hovered around the same weight. I have floated within 5kgs each side of it for over 10 years now. Because of this, I've never put much faith in diets, or exercise. My goal is to be healthy and happy and to feel good rather than to lose weight or to be skinny. It's something that's hard to explain. My doctor is on at me to lose the weight, but I can't help but think there are so many more important things in life.

Frankly, I have no desire to be skinny. I think girls with some 'meat on their bones' are more attractive. I'm not saying if you're super-skinny that you're unattractive, but it's certainly not a goal for me.

For me, weight loss is a long-term thing. Going hard at Weight Watchers or with Jenny Craig works, but only a small percentage of women keep it off long-term because making lasting changes needs to happen over a long time frame, rather than a short one. The value of the gym is best realised over a two year period than a 2 month one, the habit of making healthy choices needs to be implemented on most days and over a long time period to count.

I know I've been losing weight since I moved to Auckland. I'm officially 2-3 dress sizes smaller, and aiming for at least one more. I do a lot of walking, I aim to get to the gym twice a week and for the most part I consider my body when choosing what I eat. I'm not a saint and I love chocolate and icecream and burgers - but I also love salads and Subway and fruit. Despite all that effort and work, I never really noticed the effect it's had.

But lately I've been looking back at some of my old YouTube videos and I am noticing how much weight I've actually lost in the last couple of years. It actually staggers me. The old videos make me look puffy, my face has more tone to it now, my belly doesn't jut out as much.

It used to be I hated having photos taken, now I'm happy to pose. I've learned how to hold myself, I'm comfortable. Maybe it's just as I've gotten older I've become happier in who I am, but it's nice to know the salads and the Death Climbs haven't been for nothing. They are working, and that is encouragement in itself to keep going.

I have a couple of pieces of clothing in my wardrobe in the size I'm aiming to reach. Hopefully in a year I'll be able to fit those pieces comfortably. That would be absolutely wonderful.

Three to go

Today marks two years of this project officially complete.

The last month or so has resulted in a boost to my readership numbers so first of all, welcome to anyone who has recently discovered my little corner of the Internet. Having you all around and hearing your reactions to my writing really does help, so thank you for that.

I thought it would perhaps be a good idea to re-examine, or reiterate the goals of this project. It began back in July 2007 as a place for me to blog - something I've been doing in one form or another since 2000 (you can read what's still around in the archives) - and in that very first post I wrote the paragraph that started this whole crazy thing.

Ha, unlikely, the truth is - even though it is a sad truth and I would like nothing more then for it to be untrue - I will probably update on here every day for a week. Then I'll get bored and forget about it - just like everything else.

Committing to something and following through has always been an issue for me. This blog has, in one way, acted to overcome that particular character flaw. A week after I wrote that fateful paragraph, I found I had in fact written every day and, in the interests of proving myself wrong, I made it a goal to keep going. A week after I began this project my flatmate (and best friend) decided to start blogging daily as well and a week after that, so did another friend.

I've tried tracking down the exact day I made the decision to go for 5 years but I can't find it. I did however decide on my 30th birthday as the end date - thus there are two particularly important dates for my little corner of the internet - 18 July, as it is the birthday of the blog itself, and 15 September because it's the official countdown marker - the date on which I can officially cross another year of this project off.

I was the only one of the original three to make such an optimistic promise and also the only one to still be going. I summed up my reasons for blogging every day pretty well back in September 2007.

...just prior to turning 25 I looked back over the last 5 years and realised how much I'd changed and been through since my 20th birthday. I've fallen in love - twice - I've had my heart broken into a million little pieces, I've had depression, anxiety issues, friendships erupt spectacularly to tatters, I've moved cities - twice - had countless flats and flatmates, I've done so much. I'm a completely different person to what I was the night I turned 20.

Alot of my thoughts and feelings from the time were contained at Diary-X (RIP), but obviously I've lost them. I'm better at backing up my blogger posts just simply because I want a record of how I'm going to change over the next five years. I want to be able to look back at the big events, the times I was weak, the times I was strong, the times when I just didn't have anything to say and talked about shit. I want to read that when I'm 30.

More than just wanting to read it when I'm 30, I want to read it when I'm 60. I want to share this with my grandkids. I don't know a lot of things I'd like to know about my grandparents - most of them are things I either can't ask or they won't talk about. I don't want my grandkids to feel like that. If they are interested in who I was, I want them to be able to find out.

Not everything goes into this blog. I tend to avoid discussing other people for instance. I may blog about events and such, and I may blog about feelings set off by others, but I don't discuss other people directly. I never really realised I did it until recently but I like my friends to know they can be themselves around me without the worry that things are going to end up all over the Internet - there are exceptions of course, but I prefer to confront issues rather than get all passive aggressive and use this as a place to 'send a message'. One especially interesting thing I've noticed I do is I keep my romantic life off the blog - I know there are exes who read this blog regularly and, apart from perhaps a funny anecdote, I just don't feel the need to publicise who I'm seeing or what we're getting up to. If I feel the need to write about it, I have other - more private - places for that.

The one thing this blog doesn't have is an actual subject. It's not a music blog, or a relationship blog, or a technology blog, it's all about me. If you don't like me, you won't like my blog because it's completely and unashamedly self-obsessed. I occasionally turn to politics, events, random interesting things, but for the most part it's about me. How I view the world, what I like and what I don't.

This blog is never going to reach a large audience because of that, but I hope that those who do read and enjoy it take something from it. It's my life and I love being able to record and share it.

Friday and Ukuleles

Last Friday I took an extended lunch break and went and saw the Wellington International Ukulele Orchestra playing at Real Groovy. I'd never seen them before but I do really like ukulele orchestras and my boss plays their last EP at work fairly regularly. A free concert at lunchtime sounded like a great plan.

So glad I went.

They were very fun. I think it'd be hard to play those tiny little guitars without it being fun but if you get a chance, you should check it out - they go on tour in October and I'm very keen to go check them out again.

Watch the vids below and if it perks your interest, check out their tour dates - rumour is that original member Brett Mackenzie might "pop up toward the end of the tour".

Africa (originally by Toto)

Blue Smoke (NZ's first pop song)

Hangovers

I tend to find that hangovers come in several varieties.

There is the one where your head is banging, things are coming out of your intestines that shouldn't be coming out, sunlight hurts your eyes and everything is loud.

The one where you wake up in the morning craving the world's biggest McDonalds breakfast, stuff your face and then spend the whole day beating yourself up about it.

The one where everything feels hazy and wonky. You're not in pain, but you're not feeling awesome either.

Or the non-hangover, where you drank enough to deserve one, but you wake up early, feeling alive (if thirsty) and great.

Today I have a mixture between the Maccas hangover and the 'feeling great' hangover - right now I'm very lethargic and a little sick - but I blame the Maccas more than the alcohol for that one.

It's actually about the perfect state to be in for today. I have a mess of a room to attack, a suitcase to pack and a number of things to organise.

If only I could get my ass off the couch.

Google - I heart it.

Tonight I'm going to a housewarming out in suburbia.

Auckland's a pretty large place and while I'm very familiar with particular pockets of it (sometimes it scares me how familiar actually), there are plenty of areas I've never been to or have no idea about. The area I'm going to tonight (Avondale) is one of those pockets.

Not being a driver, I rely heavily on the bus. When I looked the journey up on Maxx I realised that this trip was going to be quite a mission. The biggest problem about bussing to a place you've never been before is knowing when to press the bell.

This was a much bigger problem before Street View. Street View has completely changed the way I use public transport. Every time I go somewhere new I take 20 minutes to first look the trip up on Maxx, then look the final destination area up on Street View.

Street View gives me the ability to judge when to press the bell, to know what the area is like (are there footpaths? Am I going to be mugged in a dodgy neighbourhood? How long is my walk? What are the markers to watch out for?) - before I even step outside my door I can get a feel for the place I'm going to. It's wonderful.

So this morning I had no idea where I was going or what to expect. Now I know the general lie of the land. It's not as bad as I was imagining luckily. Still lots of other things to organise, but at least I know where I'm going, and what I'll see when I get there.

On holiday

I'm officially on holiday. For the next 9 days I don't even have to think about work. I can relax, socialise, drink, eat and be merry to my heart's content.

I'm heading down to Wellington on Monday (or at least that's the plan - I am flying Jetstar) and am there for a week. I have no idea how often I'll get to blog - I'll try, but I make no promises.

For now I plan to relax and hang out and enjoy myself.

Yay holiday!

Gym People

One thing I love about the gym is the people watching.

I love watching the couple who work out together 6 times a week, the kickboxing instructor who patiently pushes everyone into giving their all, the girls flirting with the beefy ex-Shorty star, the guys who are there to perve at the little Asian girls who pay absolutely no attention to them - everyone at the gym is interesting. There are regulars, new people and a constant rotation of staff. When I jump on the cross trainer I lose myself in my music, but I also lose myself watching people doing their thing.

But today I got a huge treat.

When I walked into the changing room there was a girl there I'd never seen before. She was wearing very high heels, business suit and a very low cut top.

On seeing her my heart kinda sunk. There are some gorgeous girls at our gym - all of whom do a very good job of reminding me why I'm there in the first place - but this girl was a knockout on a level I hadn't seen in our little gym before.

But I put her out of my mind, got changed, put on my iPod and started my Death Climb. I was happily watching the regulars when she exited the changing room.

I have never, in all my years seen anything like it.

Most respectable girls know that you show either legs or boobs. The beach and international pop stars are the exception. Everyone at our gym generally dresses appropriately. This isn't Les Mills, we're not there to pick each other up, but this girl, well she was clearly there for the attention, and boy did she get it.

My first thought when I saw her was a tweet.

"Dear girl-at-gym, this is a gym, not a beach, dress appropriately."

Short-shorts and a sports bra. The girl was walking around in glorified under ware. Now, I'll admit, she looked great, but she was wearing the least amount of clothing I'd ever seen in our little gym.

I took a look around at my fellow regulars to see the reactions. The girlfriend half of the work-out couple had a disgusted look on her face - though to his credit the boyfriend didn't even look at Miss Swimsuit. The guys pushing weights were slyly looking at her like they had just hit Christmas early, the guy on the cross trainer next to me couldn't stop staring.

She wandered over to the mats and started doing the most sexual stretches you could imagine. Legs split, writhing, it was all there. Everything about the girl screamed "look at me! Want ME! Fuck MEEEEE!"

After 10 minutes of stretches she went for a walk around the gym, garnering some very badly disguised staring (I caught one guy out, he got all embarrassed and I couldn't help it, I cracked up laughing and almost fell off the cross trainer).

It soon became apparent why we were getting this show however. The kickboxing class was on and the teacher of the class... well I'll admit, he's certainly one of the reasons I like to go on Tuesday and Thursday nights. The man is eyecandy.

Miss Swimsuit started hanging around the class, stretching, doing pull ups. Stopping, watching Mr. Kickbox, going for a walk around the gym, stretching, getting weights... I'm pretty sure she did more walking around the gym than actual exercise.

It was very clear that the nakedness and her appearance at the gym was all about the attention, particularly the attention of Mr. Kickbox. Who - to his credit - if he saw her, he didn't act it. He continued to give his full, undivided attention to his class.

The whole thing made me kind of sad. I mentioned there are some extremely attractive ladies at my gym, but while they are hot, none of them act so skanky. They wear normal workout clothes, they get into their workouts and then they leave. For them it's all about the exercise, not the attention. They work up a sweat, they work on their bodies and, while I'm extremely jealous of them sometimes, I can respect the fact that they work hard and clearly care about themselves.

Miss Swimsuit, however, I feel pity for. I don't have the perfect body by any means, but I am secure in who I am and where I am going. My romantic life doesn't suck and I'm secure that if a guy likes me, he likes me for me, because I don't pretend to be anyone but who I am and I certainly don't attention-seek in such an obvious, over the top way.

I can't help but think that in sexualising herself like that, Miss Swimsuit cheapened herself. She lowered expectations and rather than relying on what may very well be a personality just as hot as her body, she left nothing to the imagination, clearly needing the approval and stares of strangers.

Sometimes it helps to know that the beautiful people are just as screwed up as the average ones.

Oh is it in his eyes?

I mean there's been all these bloody hints and stuff, but has he ever actually stuck his fucking tongue down your fucking throat?

- Shazzer (Sally Phillips), Bridget Jones' Diary

One thing I really enjoy - possibly too much - is kissing.

Frankly, I'd rather have a really good kiss than anything else. The foreplay, the sex, the cuddling... all of that is very much secondary to a really deep, amazing kiss.

I've kissed good kissers and I've kissed bad kissers. I've kissed boys, I've kissed girls. Some use a lot of tongue, some grab your hair, some are light, some are hungry, some are soft, some are tender but I've enjoyed every kiss I've ever had. I will grant you, some more than others, but every kiss is fun.

I'm not a natural hugger and I don't naturally let people into my space. But kissing seems the exception to that rule. I'll kiss on the first date, and if I like a guy I could happily spend hours just making out. To me, that's magic.

Now, I'm not saying all I enjoy is kissing - talking with a person, getting more physical or just hanging out in silence, or together, but doing our own thing - all that is also encouraged, but the kissing, that's the main part. That's my favourite part.

To me it also says how much you like me. How long do you kiss before you try for something else? Do you kiss me goodbye? Do you kiss me hello?

Aretha Franklin had it on the money, it all matters, it's in his kiss. I can tell the difference between a friendly kiss, a kiss filled with lust and a kiss filled with passion and feeling. I'm not all that experienced but enough, at least, to know that much.

The problem is, I hate being the instigator of a kiss unless I know where I stand with a person. If I'm not sure, I can't take that risk. It's that one step too far, just too scary. I'm nearly always open to a good pash - whether it be a friendly one, a romantic one or a dirty one - it's the other person's feelings toward me I'm trying to ascertain.

But how does one make themselves open to a kiss? I know when a kiss is coming - there's a look guys get before they're about to kiss you that is just unbelieveably sexy, but I'm yet to work out how to get a guy to give me that look, to encourage him. Every time it's just... happened. The problem is, when I'm dying for that contact, when I want it badly, I can never make it happen. My hand is dying to reach out, my body is crying for it - but I've never been able to take that risk and make it happen.

His fault or mine? Well, I'd have to say, mine. I can hardly expect a guy to make the first move the whole time - it is after all, a two way street and the guy needs just as much encouragement as I do - unfortunately, we girls walk a very fine line between acceptable and being too forward. It's not a fair line by any means, but we walk it nonetheless. Despite my own personal feelings about absolute equality and gender balance, I am affected by that - still affected by Victorian/Austonian ideas of romance and the gender balance. As much as I'd like to say I need to get over it, move past it, I like my Austonian ideals of romance... but that really is a blog for another day.

All I really want is to be kissed.

God of Wine

My birthday present from my parents arrived today, half a dozen bottles of VERY good Pinot Noir.

The only problem with this is that I don't drink red wine.

Now, I don't want you to get me wrong - I am extremely appreciative of the gift, but for such an expensive, awesome one, it was quite gutting to realise I wouldn't really enjoy it.

So instead of holding onto 6 bottles of wine I'd be unable/unlikely to fully enjoy, I tracked down the company that supplied the wine and called them up. I explained my situation and they were happy to help. I meandered over this afternoon and they happily swapped my 6 bottles of Pinot Noir for 3 Pinot Gris (what I'd actually wanted) and 3 Chardonnays.

The net result? My parents bought me 6 very special bottles of wine which I now get to save for special occasions with friends, and I got to choose them. There is no way my parents would have chosen a French Chardonnay for me, but it's my favourite of the lot, and the one I am most looking forward to drinking.

Over Summer, in the sun, with someone awesome.

On being happy

The problem with when I'm happy and being social is it's harder to think of things to blog about.

I'm too busy doing things, meeting people, hanging out that when I sit down to blog it all comes up blank.

Not to mention my bed is still a giant mess from trying to locate my iPod charger this morning and I need to clean it before I can sleep.

The new flat is working out nicely. The location is fantastic, the flatmates are lovely and I'm just generally... happy.

I'm usually quite a pedantic person, but I'm beginning to realise the more organised, the more pedantic I am, the less happy I am.

Right now I'm not at all organised or pedantic, I'm floopy and happy and enjoying myself.

It's an interesting way to be. I'm trusting things will happen - and for the most part they are - I'm trusting that the things I don't usually leave to chance will be OK - and they are.

Letting go and enjoying things - the ride - as it comes, isn't something I normally do, but I'm having a ball doing it at the moment. My room remains unpacked, my trip to Wellington next week remains unorganised, but these things will sort themselves out slowly and I'm just going to keep having fun in the meantime.

I am the BBQ master

The new flat is working out already. I'm getting exactly what it is I wanted - a social flat, who enjoy spending time together. Somewhere nice, somewhere central, somewhere I'm not embarrassed to have my friends over.

Last night I had a friend over. She came, we had a big chat, she checked out the new digs and then we went and had the best-worst meal I've ever had. We decided we'd go find somewhere random on K Rd, and we found a little Mediterranean place. It was completely empty when we walked in and the waitress was immediately on top of us. Overall the place had average food, an incredibly bad soundtrack, over-the-top service and a hilariously bad decor. We spent the whole time laughing.

This afternoon my flatmate came home from work with a friend and I found them sitting on the deck with a beer. We started talking and the combination of the gas bottle I'd just bought home, the sun that had been had been shining all day and the beer bought us to the conclusion that a BBQ would be an awesome idea.

We already had most of the ingredients so we didn't need to spend much at all in order to have a great time and after a quick trip to the supermarket we had ingredients we needed.

We cleaned up the BBQ (it hadn't been used in a while), fired it up and wow. The first BBQ of the season was definitely worth it. Garlic steak, onions, sausages and a great salad. We're all very full and thinking we should make this a regular thing. Open-invite to our friends, bring a plate, hang out and have a BBQ.

Awesome flat, awesome weekend.

Admission

I admit it, the last few days I have been CRAP at updating. I plan to fix my errors in blogging this weekend, but given the move (I no longer live in a Hobbit Hole and now live somewhere nice...) I'm OK with the recent lack.

More from my twisted brain soon :)

Moving!!

Today I moved from The Hobbit Hole to somewhere decent.

I now live in a townhouse with all the mod-cons, with flatmates who don't entirely suck and a house that I'm not embarrassed to have people come over to.

Apart from my useless movers who seemed incapable of moving stuff up two sets of stairs (and instead dropped my stuff in the lounge, leaving me to take it all upstairs to my room), the move went OK. I've just got to go back to the Hobbit Hole tomorrow for the final clean and to hand back the keys and then I am free.

FREE!

A change of perspective

I think every single girl has a picture built up in her head of the 'perfect man'.

That picture is built up from so many places - books, movies, music, our own past boyfriends, our friend's boyfriends... we see what we like, and what we don't and we amalgamate them into these imaginary men. Men who are perfect because they're everything we want them to be, and nothing we don't.

The problem with having been single for as long as I have is that my picture, my 'perfect man' has had plenty of time to build and very few reality checks. I've blogged about my perfect man before, and, while these qualities are nice to have, I'm still very open to the fact that the person I finally end up with my have none of these qualities at all.

The problem is that we build expectations that life will never, ever meet, and in building these expectations, we're highly likely to miss dozens, if not hundreds of possible connections.

It's also worth remembering that, just because a connection isn't forever, doesn't make it any less important. Searching for 'the one' is a bit useless. There's nothing wrong with experiencing your life and keeping yourself open to all opportunities rather than closing yourself off for some mythical person who is going to sweep in and change your life.

It's taken a long time to realise, but I'm starting to change my thinking. Instead of looking for someone to settle with, I'm looking to enjoy the experiences that life gives me - whether they be long term or not.

As long as you're being true to yourself, the rest just falls away. Drop your baggage and go forth, free to enjoy the people and events along the way.

Tweet Up. Mark 2.

I attended the September Tweet Up tonight.

I wasn't sure if I would go, but in the end the girls and I thought it would be fun, so we went, and boy am I glad I did.

I met a lot of people I followed - the number was far higher this time than it was at the last one, not just because I've been on Twitter longer and thus know more people, but also because there was a better range of people there and I was more comfortable within the universe.

Something @CourtneySit said to me after the last one was that now I'd been to one, the rest would be easy. Sure enough she was completely right. This time I knew a few faces, I had my girls, I'd been to a couple of Twitter events and things were just... much easier. Conversation flowed, I met some great people, put faces to names and... generally had a pretty wicked time.

Apparently the next Tweet Up is planned to be out West at The Falls - which frankly, I'm looking forward to. Apart from gaining confidence at each event, I also happen to like the guy who runs the place, and have quite a respect for businesses that can successfully run Twitter. I've heard good things, I'd like to see it.

So, if you are on Twitter, I would highly recommend these brilliant people as people you should follow. All were there tonight, all made me smile. Sadly, many of them witnessed the Saturday fall into drunken Tweeting, but thankfully all seemed to find it amusing.

@CateMOwen, @annagconnell, @CourtneySit, @TheWineVault, @JamesHancox, @cameocremes, @TeeTwyford, @roxstar_pr, @Giapo, @PatrickCavill, @LewisBostock, @joegreenz, @matt_stephenson...

Also plenty of others who I probably forgot to mention. Feel free to pimp yourselves in the comments. Good to meet/see you all again. Hope to see you at the next one!

Oh Yes, I'm Fine, Everything's Just Wonderful

I've had a rather up-and-down day today. Well, mostly it's been down, but it's ended on an up so that's good.

Wow, that was cryptic, let me see how much more specific I can get.

I started off the day extremely angry over things going on in my life. I was angry at people for being idiots, others for being right and also at myself. I was in pain because I managed to injure myself in my drunkeness on Saturday and I was angry about not being able to go to the gym to work the anger off because of the injury. I was just unpleasant.

By about 2pm however, my anger had completely abated and I was left with sadness. Sadness for all the same things I was angry about, but having been given the benefit of a few hours' mindless tasks and a number of emails and texts to friends.

The emotions I was feeling were the product of a situation working it's way out of me. The sadness was worse than the anger. Anger is an active emotion. It gives me the desire for action - to yell, to scream, to pull hair, to stomp my feet. Sadness however, is a static emotion. It makes me want to curl up and cry; to get a big block of chocolate and eat it all while watching Bridget Jones in my pajamas.

Which is almost what I did. I left work early, went to the supermarket, got pasta and fruit salad. I reigned in the desire for the world's largest block of chocolate and settled for a little one instead and slowly started walking home.

Despite the fact it hurt (due to the aforementioned injury), I needed the walk. Walking is my favourite way to think. I process a lot while walking. The forced slow pace and the fact I'd forgotten my iPod meant I had plenty of time and little distraction.

Half way home, however, my future flatmate texted me and I realised that going home to watch Bridget Jones in my pajamas wasn't productive in the slightest. It wouldn't make me feel better, it would just make me feel worse. It wasn't getting up, brushing myself off and moving on, it was staying still. The situation didn't require me to mourn anything, it required me to take a deep breath, say 'oh well' and keep going.

So I stopped by the current flat, picked up the leftover wine from the weekend and meandered to the new flat. We had wine, a wonderful dinner and had a chat. I got a real feel for what it's going to be like for me next week when I'm living there and I realised, I'm OK. I'm happy, life is good.

I have friends, I have (or will have) an awesome flat, I have a weird quasi-social life on Twitter which I adore like the giant nerd I am - and it all makes me happy.

Rough patches and bad days happen. For once, rather than behaving like a 4 year old and throwing a tantrum, or a 14 year old and becoming over emotional, I behaved like an adult.

I got up, I found my friends, and I decided I'm OK.