Ashvegas

Last night two friends and I drove down to Ashburton, which is about an hour south of Christchurch, to visit another friend who is on placement there. Didn't expect 'Ashvegas' to be really any much fun, especially as we were out ten minutes or so into the country from the town, but had a fantastic time! We had fish and chips at the Ashburton domain and then drove out to the farm Marielle is boarding at for her ten weeks of placement. The owners were away for a week, but the dog, Allie (!!!!!), a beautiful and friendly German Shepherd, was still there. It's very confusing having the same name as a dog.

I didn't realise how close Ashburton is to the sea, and it's even closer where the farm is. So Marielle and Katie ran down (about 3 or 4 kms) and Natalie and I biked. It was so lovely to bike again, on a big wide road with no traffic and hardly any wind, unlike Christchurch, with the sun setting. It was great to get to the sea as well, and sit on the beach and throw rocks for the dog and watch the sun set. We had a very late night and woke up really early because two of the others had to be back in Christchurch by 8am (grrroooaaan). The middle photo is of the other three: (l-r) Marielle, Nat and Katie. In the bottom one you might be able to see the guys who were fishing there, and their little fire, and the top one is from the top of the cliff overlooking the beach, and looking north, up the east coast. (Hopefully they're not too dark because on this old computer it's hard to see them properly, while they were fine on my laptop.)

Isaac

I got a letter from my sponsored child from Uganda today!--well, actually from his brother because he's too young to write yet, but it was still very exciting. Now I know they actually got my last letter as well, because I suspect the earlier ones went missing in the post. Besides the letter, last time I sent him some stickers, of cars and boats and so on, and the letter was sent back to me with a few of them stuck on it. He sounds very cute, he's almost five.

This is the letter:
'On behalf of Ogwal Isaac and the whole family, I would like to appreciate so much for you love for him in Ogwal Isaac is fine and in good health. He received your wonderful cards and stickers. He likes them so much. Ogwal likes music so much. He is always dancing music from the radio station. He was glad to hear that you also celebrating Christmas as a family. We do celebrate too. In Uganda here and Africa at large Christmas, Easter, New Year and Independence Day are always that people celebrate most. They sit as a family together with neighbours to eat, drink, and dance for over 20 days. Thanks a lot for helping Ogwal Isaac always.
Yours Ayita John his brother.'

My sister says that sponsored children are just a way charities attract donations, and it's not like your money is going only to your child--it's going into a big pool (not that she doesn't think it's great). I think it's such a fantastic idea because you get to see how you're helping people on a really personal level. It must be also really nice for the child and his/her family, to get letters and presents and sometimes visits from people overseas.

Aww.. I want another one!

(By the way, isn't this sunflower cool? We've got these fantastic 'black' ones in our garden and they are so striking.)

another cemetery

If I gave a list of my hobbies right now to someone who didn't know me, it could be quite a weird experience for them. Top of the list is taking photos of cemeteries and angel gravestones. I found a new, huge one today... or should I say an old one because it is one of the major old cemeteries of my city. When I say old, I mean New Zealand old, which is like: people who died at the end of the nineteenth century. It's right near the graveyard where Mum is buried, which is relatively modern and rather boring with row upon row of black oblong gravestone. But at this one, they're all the old style grave, with concrete 'beds' (for lack of a better word) and huge impressive headstones, some sculptured, all a little different from the next one, and some derelict, overgrown with wild flowers or grasses and broken. It surprised me that there was only one angel gravestone in the entire cemetery, as far as I saw.

Because it's an older cemetery, they have a few signs up showing where famous people in Christchurch's history are buried--like Robert McDougall (actually am not quite sure what he did but there's a beautiful art gallery building named after him!), Bishop Julius, Arthur Dudley Dobson (who was the first white man to discover Arthur's Pass, a way through the mountains from the east coast to west coast of the South Island, and a place where I have spent countless holidays)... So that was quite interesting. In the tiny little cemetery near my house, where the angel in the post below lives, there's the grave of John Cracroft Wilson, who was one of the very first settlers here, and settled in the area my old house was in. He was a rich merchant who had been in India, I think, and they say that he named the area (Cashmere) for Kashmir. There's something quite cool about seeing the graves of people I've heard of in history. It could be called morbid, but I think it would be amazing to visit the graves of people like Jane Austen or Lenin or Louis the somethingth (the only French king whose grave was left standing by the revolutionaries in 1775) or someone like that who you hear so much about, and to consider that they were actually real. Because it's really quite hard to believe in historical figures, and imagine they had hands and feet and flesh just like us. It's kind of like believing in God sometimes.

The photo above: this gravestone stood out for me because it looked slightly newer than any of the others there, and then I realised why. James McCormack died in 1925, aged 26--but his wife Marie died in 1994, aged 99. Never remarried, buried next to him almost seventy years later, still 'beloved wife of'. That's what I like about cemeteries; if you look closely enough, you notice the smaller details of people's lives that make them seem really personal and imaginable and poignant to you.

experimenting

This is my first attempt at a photo montage. I quite like it but I think it's a bit perfect looking; it doesn't really look like it's heaps of different photos clustered together. I think I need some more variation in colour and lighting etc and a more interesting background, maybe, for it to be really effective. My aunty, who is an amateur photographer, did this fantastic montage of her kitchen that she showed me the other day; she just stood in one place, snap snap snap, printed them off and stuck them together-- it looks great!

how abnormal am I?

You Are 8% Abnormal

You are at low risk for being a psychopath. It is unlikely that you have no soul. You are at low risk for having a borderline personality. It is unlikely that you are a chaotic mess. You are at low risk for having a narcissistic personality. It is unlikely that you are in love with your own reflection. You are at low risk for having a social phobia. It is unlikely that you feel most comfortable in your mom's basement. You are at low risk for obsessive compulsive disorder. It is unlikely that you are addicted to hand sanitizer.

How Abnormal Are You?

Well, that's a relief. :)

the orange lives on

At first I thought this was just a quite nice photo despite Sam hiding his face with his sunhat (this is back on Quail Island a few weeks ago) and then I realised it was actually pretty relevant-- because today I went back to uni to do my own enrolment stuff, and when I was walking through the area I'd worked in yesterday, all these people who worked there started smiling and saying "hi orange girl" or "would you like an orange?"

Kind of embarrassing, wouldn't have minded having a hat like Sam's to hide my face with, but it was kind of funny as well! :)

sigh, no photos

I missed three great photos today. Not necessarily all technically or aesthetically amazing, but good (or bad?) memory photos nonetheless.

Firstly, I worked seven hours for the bus information stall at the university Orientation week - yup, handing out oranges in the most unattractive orange overalls ever known to man. Actually that was only half an hour until my boss decided they were too hot to work in. (Hot in the temperature sense, just in case you were confused.) Mostly it involved going up to people with a beaming face that radiated no-I'm-not-at-all-embarrassed-isn't-this-fun?, saying in a goofy voice, "Hiiii!!!! Do you know the name of the orange bus that comes through uni???", telling them the name of the orange bus, and handing them an orange in reward--which 2/3 of the people we spoke to didn't really want. Even after the ugly overalls came off, it was still rather embarrassing because you'd ask people as they waited in their queue, "Hi! Would you like an orange?" --as one girl said after doing a double take, not a question one is asked everyday. Most just looked at you as if you were mad; some allowed you to explain that you were publicising an orange bus. To be fair, they were nice oranges. No pips, nice and sweet. But I really regret not getting a photo of me in my disgusting orange PVC thing. I have to see the funny side now.

Secondly, my friend (who was also working there) and I happened to see a couple of guys called Mitch and Matt who were in our Navs small group last year. They happen to be very funny, very outgoing and energetic, slightly shameless, and very good friends with each other. The sort of people who are popular anywhere they go. However, the funniest event of our entire year as a small group was something they did when they were being totally serious. Mitch got a date with a nice girl, so Matt decided he wanted to find a future wife. :D They thought about how to go about this, and decided they would go to uni the next day and talk to heaps of different girls, in hopes of finding a girl who was a) hot, b) Christian, c) a possible future wife for Matt, and d) willing to go on a double date with him and Mitch. They shyly and tentatively put this forward as a prayer request at our small group that evening and we, instead of being encouraging, prayerful and uplifting, collapsed into tears and screams of laughter while they sat there feeling slightly hurt. There was something irresistably amusing about imagining Matt and Mitch trying to chat up all these hot girls and somehow subtly bringing Christianity and marriage into the conversation before they'd even got their phone number. We suggested they make a booth labelled 'We are lonely and need friends'... basically you really had to be there, and know Mitch and Matt, but it was one of the funniest things I have ever experienced.

Well, today, when Katie and I came outside after finishing work, we saw Matt and Mitch standing behind a booth, wearing the same clothes, with Matt wearing a wig like Mitch's dreadlocks. The booth was labelled : "Lonely Hearts on Valentine's Day--Kissing Booth."

I am happy to say this was a joke this time. But it was just so so so so funny and I wish I had had my camera with me and had been able to take a picture of them behind it, if only to show the rest of our small group.

Thirdly, I was driving home from babysitting about twenty minutes ago (it is now about 11pm and I am stuffed after a very long day) and there was a full moon surrounded by all these mysterious misty clouds and it was beautiful. I don't think my camera would have been able to handle the darkness but I wish I had had it there just to try.

So my lesson has been learnt and I will now take my camera with me most places, I think. Even if I don't think there will be any good opportunities.

By the way, my five-year-old nephew told me I'm pretty yesterday. :) Awww. Big Brownie points for him.

Patty, thanks for your sympathy. I don't want it to seem like I'm fishing for sympathy on my blog but I don't want to not talk about what's going on in my life either, and I do really appreciate sympathy when it comes. :) So yeah, thanks.

and the year begins

We had our first girls' Sunday a'noon Bible study today; well, technically it wasn't really a Bible study this time but we just had lunch and talked and did that Hot Seat thing everyone does at church stuff and so on... it was cool! Above: some photos of a few of the girls... today there were only six of us but there should be a few more when they get back from athletics competitions and army boot camp and so on! (Pauline, the blonde one with white t-shirt, would kill me if she knew I was putting the bottom photo on the internet... heh heh...) Most of the other girls involved are still at school, from about 14 to 16 in age, but there's one girl who's a year older than me there too, and my friend who's at boot camp at the moment is the same age as me. I think it'll be really fun. We're also going to do just fun stuff like going to the beach or renting movies or whatever.

My dad has gone away on holiday and I am all alone at home. It's okay right now but yesterday I got all bored and restless and in need of human company, and so I went over to my friend Katie's house and we watched Finding Neverland (which I have never seen before and loved) and just chatted and it was really nice. I've been invited for meals by at least three people so far who feel all sorry for me, all alone at home, motherless and now fatherless, but the weird thing this week is I will be busy at mealtimes every night this week. Babysitting, Shakespeare music playing, going to Ashburton... etc.

I'm playing piano at another funeral tomorrow. My church has had quite a spate recently.

iPods are FUN

This is a photo of the green M&Ms I have been faithfully collecting over the past six months. I thought it wouldn't take that long to get a jarful but no, it took ages. The problem with M&Ms is you can never buy only the green ones, and then if you're eating them in a movie theatre or something, you can't see the colours and save the green ones. :) Don't ask why I collect green M&Ms... I just saw the M&M ad once about a screwed-up M&M who had a fetish for collecting green M&Ms and thought it was funny and that I was going to do that. Pretty sad, really.

I got my iPod in the mail! It is so cool. It's tiny. Smaller than my cellphone, and about as thin as a floppy disk. It's amazing. I've had so much fun putting music on there and making playlists. I borrowed my sister's collection of Flanders and Swann CDs and even put them on there (British comedians from about the 50s or 60s who are hilarious--I have grown up listening to records of them). How very exciting.

I'm feeling a lot better at the moment. For one thing I'm going to be quite busy this week, looking after my nephews, playing background music at an outdoor performance of a Shakespeare play every evening for a week and a half from Wednesday, working at the uni Orientation week for Metroinfo (wearing orange overalls, handing out oranges, to publicise the orange bus called the Metrostar... sighhh... but we get paid to look stupid so I'm going to swallow my pride!), going out to Ashburton with some friends to visit a friend who is there on placement for her Medical Imaging training... and so on.

For another thing, a whole lot of the pressure has been taken off because I've talked to Annette, one of the leading team of my university Christian group, Navs, and have decided not to be a leader of a small group this year after all. I've agreed to do a whole lot of stuff with my church (kid's club leader, youth group, girl's Sunday a/noon Bible study) this year, and without realising it, become way too busy and committed myself to too many things. Then there's music on Tuesday nights, helping with reading at Rowley Primary School, and two nights a week I have classes at university, which drastically cuts down any time I have available. I'd also quite like to join a choir. :S So yeah. Way too much pressure. Can't cope with it right now. Also can't summon up enough energy to try and make new friends etc so would be terrible as a Navs leader.

lethargy

Well. Have had a depressing few days and I don't really feel like writing about it at all. Just a couple of tiny little things that happened that got me majorly down. I don't know if it was because of the things themselves, or if I was just waiting for something to go wrong.

Happy Waitangi Day.

Just thought I'd post a few photos up. I took them when I simply suddenly had an urge to take photos of musical instruments the other day. Top: my wooden descant recorder. Middle: piano -- obviously. Bottom: a shakuhachi (which I made myself when my recorder group went to Australia for a music festival).

Counting my blessings, though: I bought an iPod today, on TradeMe (kind of a New Zealand form of eBay). Kinda excited about it but trying to ignore my bank account.

Warning: probable morbidity

Life sucks because it's so beautiful. It would be so easy to just detach oneself from the world if only one could simply stop clinging to all the good things. And why would you want to do that anyway? You'd become a nothing. That's why I don't get why people can talk about Buddhism as if it's such a great thing--how can we ignore the pain around us? Yay for them if it helps them relax and ignore their problems, but it's not exactly very helpful for anyone else, is it? When Buddha was so depressed by the state of the world and decided to run off and find enlightenment, it didn't change anything about the state of the world, it just meant he could ignore it. Which doesn't impress me at all.

One of my favourite quotes: "I could never myself believe in God, if it were not for the cross... In the real world of pain, how could one worship a God who was immune to it? I have entered many Buddhist temples in different Asian countries and stood respectfully in front of the statue of Buddha, his legs crossed, arms folded, eyes closed, the ghost of a smile playing around his mouth, a remote look on his face, detached from the agonies of the world. But each time after a while I have to turn away. And in imagination I have turned instead to that lonely, wretched, tortured figure on the cross, nails through hands and feet, back lacerated, limbs wrenched, brow bleeding from thorn-pricks, mouth dry and intolerably thirsty, plunged in God-forsaken darkness. That is the God for me! He laid aside his immunity to pain. He entered out world of flesh and blood, tears and death. He suffered for us. Our sufferings become more manageable in the light of his. There is still a question mark against human suffering, but over it we boldly stamp another mark, the cross which symbolises divine suffering. 'The cross of Christ... is God's only self-justification in such a world' as ours." (John Stott)

This has got to be the reason why I am a Christian. Sure, there's a list of things I believe and a list of things I don't believe, about God and the world and sin and heaven and so on. And I think these are important. But ultimately, it's about who Jesus is, and what he did. There are issues still, that I don't understand and I'm slightly worried about. But I've got to the point where I know Jesus, and I know what he's like, and I trust him. The things he said make sense to me. I don't think I'll ever give up on him.

Ha, this must sound so odd to non-Christians.

two funerals and a little bit of a wedding

A man at my church has just died, and we are going to his funeral tomorrow. It's going to be a weird experience, I think, when it's not long since my Mum's funeral. He had two sons, one of whom is only a couple years younger than me, and I can't even begin to imagine what things are like for him, despite both our parents dying of cancer, about a month apart. His father has battled brain cancer for about as long as I have known cancer existed. It became obvious about a year ago (or maybe more) that it was terminal, and so he has had to cope with seeing his dad extremely unwell for a whole year. Although my mother had the disease for five or so years, it was never as obviously bad as I had imagined it could be, until about a month before her death. Whereas Murray has had to deal with a lot more things than me. I wonder if he feels it's a relief, like I did.

My dad and I will be playing the piano and organ at the service. We have been busy today sorting out all the music details; what music to play before and after, who plays what, volume, etc. It's nice to be able to choose what music to play yourself, which doesn't happen at church very often. We've been given a couple of hymns for during the service, but beforehand, as people come in, we will be playing music like Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring, by Bach, Duetto, by Mendelssohn, How Beautiful are the Feet, by Handel (from Messiah), a few obscure but beautiful hymns, Bist du bei Mar, by Bach, Hear My Prayer, by Mendelssohn, and Great Is Thy Faithfulness. After, we're playing He Shall Feed His Flock, another Messiah piece. I love classical/baroque/Romance period music. I think it often helps to have a bit of music training behind you in understanding music like that in a modern culture, but I still don't understand why many people get so bored by older music. Something like Finlandia, by Sibelius... phew, you just can't describe it, it's one of the most exciting pieces ever, or a Rachmaninov piano concerto. Wow. Or the amazingly simple but awe-inspiring vocals on choral pieces like Miserere Mei, Deus, or Agnus Dei. Or just the good old classics like the Hallelujah chorus. My sister walked up the aisle to the last two or three minutes of Wedding Day at Troldhaugen, by Grieg, and by gum that was a good choice. Too bad I can't do that if I get married--it's a pain having five older siblings who choose the best stuff first!

Patty and Vicki, thanks for your comments. Patty, I have real trouble believing you could cure me of my panic attacks, they're so ingrained. :) You might be able to calm me down temporarily, but 'temporarily' is the important word there. Soon, when you'd gone, I'd start worrying again and go completely berserk. (Okay, well, I'm not quite at the insanity stage, but sometimes I could be!)

panic attacks

Last night three of my friends came home from Australia after spending the summer there--yippee! It's so great to see them again. I went to the airport at midnight to welcome them home, along with their families and a few other friends. Was extremely tired because had gotten up very early that morning to look after my nephews for a full day, 8am to 6pm. Luckily I met up with a friend in the evening and had two large strong coffees and didn't come home till 10:30pm, so it wasn't too long and tired a wait before leaving for the airport.

Then when we left the airport, about 1am, the parking ticket machine decided it was going to decline my eftpos card three times in a row, and being tired and slightly stressed I panicked, burst into tears and assumed the Someone at the pool had stolen my eftpos card along with my shoes, taken all my money, and then returned it to my wallet. Now it seems quite a far-fetched theory but you must remember it was 1am. Thank goodness for a kindly passer-by, who gave me the 20 cents I needed to pay off my parking ticket. Stopped at an ATM on the way home and all my money was there still. Go figure. A valuable lesson in trusting God, I think.

The problem with my panic attacks is that once I start to panic, I keep on going, even when the initial catalyst is resolved. I couldn't get to sleep till 4am, and woke up worrying about my U2 tickets and if they'd been lost in the post because I still haven't got them. Now I'm feeling a bit more calm. Thank goodness.

the Port Hills

Well, last night I finally went up the Summit Road. I didn't expect it to be amazing, because it wasn't one of those days where everything is... painted in neon. But I was surprised. Just the drive up was great, but what struck me the most was how when I stopped the engine and got out, everything was so quiet. It's hard to describe things that aren't there, like silence... but it was just such a welcome change, after all that chugging up the hill in third or even second gear in the tired old car. And it was lovely watching the sun gradually set. It started off with really delicate hues of amber and blue and gradually got more and more vivid, though the same colours. And if you looked to the east, you could see this huge cloud creeping in over Christchurch city on one side of the hill and Lyttleton Harbour on the other side, and seeping into the bays. It was kind of like seeing a massive tidal wave in slow motion. It was pretty depressing coming down from that; once you reached the Sign of the Takahe (the building above) you couldn't see the sky properly anymore and everything was cloudy/smoggy. It was even worse on the flat (Christchurch is completely flat except for the Port Hills to one side of it)--it was so cloudy and greyish that it felt like winter, except it was too hot, and the only hint of the sun setting was this dark orange circle vaguely showing itself through the clouds in the west.

I like that photo of the Sign of the Takahe; if you ignore the bus and the road signs, it makes me think of Macbeth's castle or something like that, all mysterious and dire with the mist around it.

Today I spent a full day babysitting the nephews; we went to the airport to look at planes and baggage conveyor belt thingys, and then went swimming at a big public pool that has a hydroslide. Someone stole my sandals. Grrr. But I can't help laughing, because they didn't steal my wallet, and the shoes were only $10. :D Ha, what fools. To choose my shoes when there are countless others lying around in an area of town where most people would spend about five times more on their shoes than me... at the very least.

Patty is right

Thanks so much for your comments on the Irishman Creek post, Patty. I went and looked at that entry, and I agree with you completely. Time machine is the perfect word for that type of photo. I think that's the power of the visual. It takes so many words to describe the smell, temperature, appearance, feel of a place, let alone the way you felt and the way the people around you felt, but one little picture brings back such vivid memories in one tiny flash. It doesn't even have to be a good photo. I've been quite annoyed sometimes because a photo I really liked has just been brushed over by others, but then you remember that they may not appreciate that expression on that person's face, or that camaraderie between those people, or that private joke. Which is a pity. I guess the most skillful photographers are the ones who can capture moments or expressions and make them seem like a memory to anyone who looks at the photo.

I think that's one of the reasons I'd really like to start collecting old black and white photos, of people. I like to look at pictures like that and imagine what they were thinking, and decide what sort of relationships they had with other people in the photos. Photography is one of the only ways normal people can live on after death, like that... you usually can't help but show your humanity in a photo. I think that's why some photos have become so iconic--they emphasise shared humanity.

Patty, thanks so much also for your comments on rats and passion. :) Sounds funny now, but I really appreciate that.

my lovely stroll

This afternoon I decided to go for a walk. I was going to go for a big walk around some of the Summit Road, which is basically on the rim of the extinct volcano I mentioned the other day. You get a fantastic view of Lyttleton Harbour and I was all ready to go when I stepped outside and noticed how hot it is. There is absolutely no shelter from the sun up there. So, being sensible and a bit too lazy, I decided to walk along the river near where I used to live, instead. (There happens to be a very good cafe there as well!) It's really pretty along there, and it's almost all shady, so perfect on a day like this. And I took my digital camera and all inspired by Patty's gorgeous photos of baby deer, decided I was going to try and take wildlife photos as well. Until--as I skipped happily along the woodland track, admiring the little ducklings in the river and the chirruping of crickets and the birdsong floating from the trees--a huge rat suddenly pranced across the track ahead of me.

I am proud to say that I did not scream. However, it did take away any desire I had to walk along the track anymore. Luckily I'd already walked a fair way and taken a few photos to prove I'd been there, so I had no qualms going back to the car as quickly as possible.

Yuck! I can't help shuddering. I hate rats. I've never actually seen one in Christchurch before. The last time I saw a wild one was in Bangkok; a huge, black, filthy beast climing out of the gutter. Eugh.

Happily, on the way back, I admired some more ducklings, bought some lilies (there's always some sort of produce--usually berries or flowers--for sale along that road in summer), and stopped to watch a huge convoy of old cars driving past on their monthly club trip/parade/thing. I think they all drive from Halswell to the beach and have a big barbecue there. It makes me want to get a styly old car. I tried to take photos of them, but the digital camera didn't really behave--it always took too long to actually take the photo, and then even longer for the screen to readjust. I think I'd better take my normal film camera in future whenever I want to capture moving things.

I'm still going to go up on the Summit Road track. I just think that I'll do it in the evening one day. Maybe just before sunset.

Irishman Creek

It's funny how sometimes you come across a place, at a time, on a day, and it just happens to be the sort of perfection that looks as if it can only appear in a photo, and it would be hard to mess up any photo you tried to take of it. That's what it felt like when Eva and I drove past this, the little hut at the entrance of Irishman Creek Station. We had just been to Mount Cook, and the drive back was beautiful--it was late afternoon, with all that beautiful golden light and those long shadows. I love the vividness of this photo. It's one of my favourite photos ever, I think, because the vividness of the photo matches the vividness of the memories. We had Coldplay playing, and whenever I listen to that particular album now (A Rush of Blood to the Head), the image of driving back from Mount Cook, after a long and beautiful day, comes involuntarily to my head.

I give in

I feel I need to indulge my obsessive-compulsive nature. This will be by making LISTS. I am going to go away and write down 'top ten...' lists. I am going to name my potential children. I am going to make the perfect mix CD. How blissful it is to succumb. I might even allow myself to start collecting a new thing (in the past it's been stamps, packages, phone cards, the corny quote-for-the-day off raisin packets). I recently saw a lady on the Antiques Roadshow (now you really know how weird I am--it's one of my favourite shows) who had a collection of wedding photographs, and I loved the idea of collecting old photos. I am very tempted to do so.

And there is nothing wrong with loving the Antiques Roadshow. :) To tell the truth, it's not the antiques I watch it for, usually--it's the funny old British men who know so much about some obscure portion of history and get so excited over someone's dingy old clock or grimy teaspoon.

they have not died

Thanks for the good luck wishes, Patty--it has obviously worked because here I am five days later and the nephews are still alive. :) It's actually been quite fun, amazing to say. They have a pool at their house, which has been a complete blessing as some of the days have been stinking hot (although my hair is all gross and chlorine-y now). I've even enjoyed cooking the meals; though nerve-racking, it's been a completely new experience to just see what's in the fridge and make something with it. My mother was always super-organised (and I mean SUPER) and if I was cooking one night I'd always have to tell her what my plans with her at least a day in advance so we'd have all the right ingredients. So it's very novel to just hash something together out of odds-and-ends, especially if the boys actually like it!

I've also got to do a lot of fun things with them. The other day we went to see Nanny McPhee, with Emma Thompson and Colin Firth and the cool little boy from Love Actually, and it was FANTASTIC. A kids movie, obviously, but it was just so cool and clever and well done that I loved it. I would even go so far as to say it's one of the best roles I've seen Colin Firth in since Mr Darcy. I actually didn't really enjoy his portrayal of Mark Darcy in Bridget Jones' Diary that much, and although I liked other roles like Jamie in Love Actually, this one was just a really good one for him. I might even buy the DVD when it comes out (a big deal for me).

Then today, we went to Quail Island for the day. Just over the hill from Christchurch is Lyttleton Harbour, which is actually the crater of an ancient and extinct volcano, and in the middle is this island which takes about three hours or so to walk around. We took the ferry from Lyttleton to the island and did a walk around about half of it, past the old leper colony buildings and graveyard (of about 100 years ago), and round to a ship's graveyard, where there are about eight skeletons of ships that have been abandoned near the beach--really quite cool. It was a lovely, sunny day and it was really fun, although the kids did fight a bit when they got tired. But I was wise, and brought marshmallows, and whenever they were being particularly painful I would pipe up with "When you get to the top of this hill you can both have two marshmallows each!" Then I sat on the beach reading Jane Austen literary criticism while the boys collected shells and found crabs, until the ferry came back to pick us up. We went back through the tunnel under the hill to Christchurch (always a bonus) and went for a long swim in their pool! Came home feeling ravenous. [The photos above are of Quail Island today.]

panic

Today I am starting babysitting for the two nephews Sam and Alex. I am very worried, firstly that they won't do what I say (I'm the fun aunty), and secondly because I have had an awful premonition that I will be responsible for their deaths or grievous injury or something.

Okay, so I don't think I'll quite kill them both off. But it is kind of nerve-racking. I've been desperately praying that nothing bad will happen on my first day. Luckily, I'll only be looking after them for about an hour and a half today, but I have to cook dinner as well so it might be rather a mental hour and a half. I think it will be actually quite fun when I spend the whole day looking after them; we can go out and do some fun stuff. But in a way, a small period of time like today will be harder. :S

I feel the need to look at calm, peaceful photos like the one above and breathe slowly and deeply. In. Out. In. Out. [The photo above, having mentioned it, is of Lake Ohau, near Twizel, in the Mackenzie Country. Eva and I stumbled across it and it was so exciting because we've got this beautiful painting of it at home and I'd never seen the real thing before.]

why Jane Austen is a genius

I have lately been reading, in small doses, a book called A Fine Brush On Ivory, by Richard Jenkyns (Oxford University Press, 2004), which is a study on Jane Austen's writing. It got me thinking, quite a lot, on why, exactly, I think Jane Austen is so great, and what particular things I should try to learn from her.

So far, as I read through the book, I have concluded (I feel a bit like Sherlock Holmes saying things like this) that Jane Austen's gift is ordinariness and restraint. That doesn't sound quite like I mean it to. But what I admire about her writing is that she takes tiny, small situations with a limited amount of people and an almost non-existent amount of novel-type drama and looks at the drama, at the depth, at the comedy, in ordinary people. Charlotte Bronte couldn't see why Jane Austen caused so much fuss; she thought her books were empty of all proper novelish feelings and scenery and passion. But since my mother died, I have come to realise that when drama happens in real life, it's not generally marked with screams of anguish or wildly beating hearts or whatever it is often marked with in fiction. Real drama is often more subtle than that. A day before Mum died, I was sitting talking with my father (whose first wife, the mother of my siblings, died about 24 years ago) and one of my sisters, and we were listening to Christmas carols. As Away In A Manger played, my Dad suddenly said, "That song has extremely vivid memories for me." He explained that he remembered putting my sister Felicity, who was only two, to bed one night. While next door her mother was in her sickbed, dying, Dad and Felicity lay on the bed singing Away In A Manger.

For me, that story has so much power and poignancy and personality. It involves no hysterics, no wild emotions, no crushingly depressing dialogue. Yet it is more real than most things I've read or watched on TV on the subject of death; it is more dramatic than drama.

Richard Jenkyns writes, Jane Austen's is a chastened art. Her instinct to purify and concentrate tells her to keep the scenery to a minimum. ... It is significant, too, that there is even less overtly dramatic incident in her later novels than in her earlier work: she does not develop her range in these later books, not, as we might have expected, by taking obviously bigger themes, but through yet more intimacy and refinement. They become even more 'ordinary'. (page 22)

So, in four paragraphs, that is the main reason why I think Jane Austen is great. That is what I am trying to teach myself. Of course there are other things I think she does masterfully, better than anyone else, but if someone were to ask me one reason why I love her writing so much, that would be what I would say... maybe in a more concise version!

[Photo at the top: Lake Tekapo, in April 2005. On same road trip with Eva.]

thoughts

I have been making a scrapbook of sorts of my mother. I went and copied about twenty photos, spanned throughout her life, and put them in a book with pretty coloured paper and all that stuff, alternated with the tributes from people at her funeral, or letters from people that knew her really well before I did, and so on. At the back I glued in all the cards I've been sent so far. It was one of those things that I get the idea for and in a rush of feverish action, I do it all in one day.

I'm finding it all so weird at the moment. I don't feel sad at all most of the time. I don't feel at all like I feel I should. Sometimes, I feel a slight twinge or two--like when my brother-in-law John, who is one of my favourite people, sent Dad and I a card, because he wasn't able to come from Australia to the funeral. It was just a really lovely card and for some reason I got a bit upset over that. And then another time, my friend Sarah, who is one of my very best friends, gave me a photo of me and her that she'd kind of stuck in a pretty card and written on the back, because she's leaving soon for two years, to go to Samoa and do her DTS (Discipleship Training School, with YWAM [Youth With A Mission]). That was really nice too and it almost made me cry but I can't really figure out why it's these isolated incidents. And there was one more time too, I got a card a couple of days after Mum died, which was from my old workmates at Spreydon Library, and I had no idea they even knew. I really think it will take me a long time to ... understand what's happened, and to understand what effect it's going to have on me, and what life's going to be like without Mum.

It's funny, when people treat me as if I'm some grieving, desolated mourner, I feel the most like I'm not. And I wish they'd stop it, yet I kind of appreciate the attention. :S

Well, anyway, today's photo is of the Alpine Memorial in Mount Cook National Park, when my friend Eva and I travelled there and did the Hooker Valley Track. Mount Cook itself (the biggest mountain in the southern hemisphere) was behind me as I took the photo, and I was looking back down that particular valley towards Lake Pukaki.

A girl has just started coming to my church who is doing her first year at uni next year, and doing exactly the same courses as I did, for English and History--and, we found out that both of us want to be authors! It's always really nice to meet someone else like that. It's funny when you do, you both take a little glance at each other and realise you're really quite similar.

Patty, thanks so much for putting me on your links. I would do the same but I can't really figure out exactly how to! There doesn't seem to be a way to make a "blogs I enjoy" list in my editing profile information. Any advice? Oh yeah, and five hours--yep, it's a long time, but it's definitely worth it. Colin Firth is Amazing.

archaeology

I thought today (sometimes I do think) that if someone were to ask me if I could discover any lost tomb, manuscript, skeleton, painting, whatever, whether mythical or real, I would discover a completed novel of Jane Austen's that was lost and never published. Sigh... dream on, I suppose.

Last night my sister and I organised all the days I'm going to babysit her two sons over the next month or so. It's quite exciting to be doing some proper work these holidays instead of just bumming around, although my excuse to not work was probably as good as they come. I think it could be quite fun, babysitting my nephews, if I make an effort to do fun stuff with them. They also have a pool at their house... velly nice in February, the hottest month of the year here, in the southern hemisphere where everything is upside down and backwards. (Or, as we see it, where everything is as it should be.)

This is a photo of an angel at a graveyard near my house. Taking photos of graveyard figures is one of my little interests. I think they're beautiful. I was inspired to write a few short stories because of an angel in another graveyard. One of them will published on the next issue (in February sometime) of the e-zine I contribute things to: Halfway Down The Stairs.

Patty, I think if you've never read any Jane Austen books before, don't go for Northanger Abbey first. I think it's one of the shortest, but Pride and Prejudice is probably the best one to start off with. Oh, and if you're going to see the new movie of Pride and Prejudice, make sure you also see the older BBC version (5 hours long, with Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle). The new movie's okay, but in my opinion it just doesn't measure up to the older one.

Right! I'm off to make chocolate-chip cookies! (Yummm...)

gravel faces & censuses

This is my brother-in-law John, skipping happily along a gravel face on the Otira Valley track, Arthur's Pass, NZ. I really like it just because I love gravel faces and walking along them (it's a bit of a thrill--they feel more vertical and unstable than they are), and because I think John's funny. :)

Thanks djohns and patty for checking out my blog, nice to meet both of you... Patty, right now I agree with you that I'd pick Jane Austen over U2 if I was stranded on a desert island. Theoretical quality aside, books would be more useful, in case I needed to light a fire, or send a message in a bottle, or something like that. Northanger Abbey is a good book. It's her first published novel, I think, or at least the one she wrote first, and at points it's kind of a parody of other novels. So not quite so serious as something like Mansfield Park or Persuasion (my personal favourite), but funny and readable and Nice.

I am considering applying for a job as a census collector from February to March. It seems like quite an amusing job to have but I can't figure out exactly why I should think that. I like censuses; the last time we had one here I was a lot younger and was really gutted because most of it was only for people aged 15 and above. I love filling out forms. It's a bit like my obsession with making lists, or perfect mix CDs.

photography

As you may have noticed already, I love taking photos. And just before, I stumbled across some guy's blog where he's posted a whole heap of photos he's taken around Anchorage in Alaska, just on a normal point-and-shoot camera, and they're beautiful. So that inspired me to take more photos... and to post some of my photos on here! I won't do it all at once, but just randomly as I post every now and then. I think I've put some of then on before but I'll do it again just for the heck of it :)

This photo--the first of my new scheme--is of Lake Alexandrina, near Tekapo, in the Mackenzie Country, Canterbury, New Zealand. (Phew, long list of directions.) It's a beautiful spot, very peaceful and soothing to be around. There's not a whole lot to do there other than relax or go out in a boat, but I would recommend it to anyone going to that region. I think this photo is kind of the classic shot of Alexandrina.

graveside

This is a photo of my mother's grave as it was today (with the surname censored!). I went to visit for the first time since she was buried, which was exactly two weeks ago. Heck, I think I was there at the very time she would have been buried. I took some flowers I picked from our garden that I think she really would have liked (you can see them just to the left of the cross, in a jar), and a little metal dragon fly thing that bobs in the wind. I also took the little fake yellow roses in the pink paper. As much as I don't like fake flowers, I have to admit they last a whole lot more than real ones, in summer, and these ones didn't look too fake. The real ones I took were already wilting by the time I got there, which was kind of disappointing, but as you know, it's the gesture, I think.

It was nice, I sat beside the grave for a while. I didn't talk to her or anything because I know she's not there. I didn't even think about her that much. But it was really nice and peaceful. I think I'll try to go back every two weeks or something like that. The plot is still sandy, I don't know when they're going to put grass seeds in, I wonder if my dad and I have to take care of that? We haven't really thought about the headstone yet, except that we want it to be different than all the rest of the ones there. My aunty Joy who died two years ago has a beautiful headstone at the same graveyard, a piece of West Coast rock that my uncle fashioned into a grave stone himself. My dad's first wife is also buried there, two rows away from Mum, and my grandparents are there also. I never met them. But it's quite nice to see a few people's gravestones while you're there. I took a single flower to Joy, my grandparents and Jean's graves as well as the bunches on Mum's.

The funny thing about death is that although the afterlife is so illogical to some people, it really makes sense once it happens to someone you know so well. Death actually makes it easier for me to believe in God, in some ways. My mother is no longer within her body, I can see that easily. But there's no way I can believe that my mother's soul, the essence of her personality and spirit and ways has just disappeared. Although her soul may not be physical, there's substance to it, and that will last far longer than physical things that just turn into dust. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, but God put something of himself into us--we're made in the image of him--and God can't just fade away.

That poem, Footprints in the Sand, where a man is walking down a beach and talking to God, and he asks God why, when he was going through the most difficult times of his life, there is only one set of footprints walking, not two, and God replies, "Those were the times I carried you"--as much as I get sick of that poem because people always quote it--
It's True.
The last few weeks I have felt abnormally at peace. Even more than I usually am, with nothing going wrong. Sometimes I have felt like I can't feel God around me, and I've wished he would be more tangible in my life, but all the same--I am sure of it, he has carried me.

Psalm 40vv1-3 (NLT):
I waited patiently for the Lord to help me,
and he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the pit of despair,
out of the mud and the mire.
He set my feet on solid ground
and steadied me as I walked along.
He has given me a new song to sing,
a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see what he has done and be amazed.
They will put their trust in the Lord.

So I'm going to praise him, no matter how I feel about his current tangible presence, or what's happening to me, because he is always with me, he has walked in my shoes, he understands me more than anyone else ever could, and I love him.

I am happy that you can't prove what's happened in my life because of him. It could be just a fluke, I suppose. But I am happy that finally I'm coming to see that sometimes the step I take to believe, the risk I take, gives me something that is better than proof.

she hath my heart in thrall

I just got a CD out of the library by the Corrs, a collection of Irish songs. One of my favourites is "My Lagan Love", and I love the words 'she hath my heart in thrall'. Why do we have to throw words like that out of the modern dictionary? Sighhh... instead we have stupid rap songs saying things like 'you're my boo' or 'i must stick wit u'. *grimace* I hate bad spelling and unpoetic words. I don't want to be snobbish, I really don't, but I can't see why people throw away words that actually sound good and replace them with some stupid morphed boring word.

I wish I lived in a book.

recommended reading

Good books I have been reading this summer:
Persuasion, by Jane Austen
Zorro, by Isabel Allende
The Eyre Affair, by Jasper Fforde
Lost In A Good Book, by Jasper Fforde
Jetlag Travel Guides: Molvania
Venetia, by Georgette Heyer
The Case For Faith, by Lee Strobel
A Long Way Down, by Nick Hornby
The Ordinary Princess, by M. M. Kaye

There you have it. Some new ones for me, some well-loved. All enjoyed thoroughly. Some serious, some the opposite, but I would recommend all. I meant to read more for my Eighteenth Century Novel course this year but started Moll Flanders and got so bogged down in the first five pages that haven't picked it up again. What is even less tempting: Anna Karenina and Crime and Punishment for my Nineteenth Century Russian Novel course. I used to want to read Anna Karenina lots, but then my sister told me what happens at the end by mistake and it completely drowned any urge I had originally.

I enrolled for varsity today. In my first semester I will be doing:
ENGL203 The Eighteenth Century Novel (off the top of my head, some of the books we'll be doing are Moll Flanders, Northanger Abbey, Lorna Doone...)
ENGL220 Creative Writing: Short Fiction (yay, got into this, a limited class of 24)
HIST274 The Soviet Experiment and its Aftermath
I wanted to do a Linguistics course in Syntax but didn't have enough space.
In my second semester, I will be doing:
HIST239 War and Society 1900-1945
RUSS215 The Nineteenth Century Russian Novel (Anna Karenina, Crime and Punishment, as before)
LING207 Phonetics and Phonology (yay!)
ENGL115 Childhood in Children's Literature (decided to do this, as last year it was a second year course and I was really looking forward to doing it, and then they changed it to a first year course, so hopefully I'll be able to manage a fourth paper)

resolution

New Year's resolution: Purity.

I suppose most people would take that to mean sexual purity. Although that's part of it, I mean something larger than that. I think that at the moment my biggest problem, the thing that holds me back from God the most, is my mind. (And no, I don't mean I can't logically believe in God, as many would leap to assume.) My outward actions tend to be okay but my mind can be a cesspit at times and I want to stop thinking certain things about other people that are cruel or crass. I want to start focussing on good things. I don't want to be so sarcastic or cynical anymore. I want to act more, rather than mull things over.

i am a couch potato

My father and my grandmother have both tried to get me to go to Le Bons Bay with them tomorrow. It's not going to happen. One, the drive over to Akaroa Harbour makes me queazy. Two, I have to take my sister and her husband to the airport. Three (the most important of all), I can't be bothered. I have come to the conclusion that I am a lazy bore when it comes to some things. To tell the absolute truth, I probably would go if siblings or friends were, but when there is probably only going to be people there who are fifty or over, it doesn't sound that tempting. Le Bons Bay is beautiful, and it's summer, and I love it, but... I am so lethargic at the moment. I feel bad, actually, because I spend a lot of time doing solitary things in my room, or elsewhere, and I hope Dad doesn't feel too lonely. But I can't help that; it's how I function. I am a lot younger than my sisters and brothers, I have become a solitary person by necessity, I have to entertain myself: reading, writing, cooking, playing on the computer, drinking coffee at a nice cafe, watching movies, going for occasional walks, playing or listening to music. If I were Dad, I'd go out for bike rides and walks and work in the garden. Ce n'est pas moi. My friends all think I'm really odd because I often enjoy going to movies by myself. They hate that, they feel friend-less. But I like it because I feel independent and I can enter my own moods/opinions/ideas after the movie and not have to enter into theirs. Basically, I am a very selfish person.

Plug time!! Go and visit the creating writing e-zine a few friends from a writing group and I have put together. It's called Halfway Down The Stairs, and features original fiction, poetry and non-fiction, publishing issues four times a year. Our last issue was Enchante, featuring re-written fairy/folk tales etc, and the new issue due out in March is Wanderlust.

almost forgot... it's 2006!

There's something funny about a new year. Really, I know there's nothing to it. Big deal, a number has changed. But sometimes these things do feel like a new beginning in a sense. It's easier when you live in the southern hemisphere and each year brings a new stage of education -- I'll be doing second-year level courses this coming year at university. I guess it also helps, in my case, that with my mother's death, it really is the end of an era for me and the beginning of something new. I don't think I can understand at the moment that my mother's soul is no longer firmly ensconsed in her body, and there is no way I can imagine her in heaven. But I miss her a lot already. It seems weird living at home without her, just me and Dad. I've been looking at photos of her and reading people's cards and tributes to her and it all seems so surreal, as I said in my last post. The photo to the right of this is Mum, with one of my nieces. I think it's the last photo anyone ever took of her, and she wasn't very well at that stage, although it was a few weeks before she got really, really, really unwell.

I've never made a point of making new year resolutions; they seem as if they're made to be broken, and I'd usually just forget them. But I wonder if I should this year, as it really is a very significant new beginning for me. I don't want to just make them up, off the cuff, here and now because I don't think they'd be very significant in that case. I'll think about it, and if I alight on any good ones, I'll post them up on here. I guess the main thing that has been running through my brain the last few days is that I don't want to do anything my Mum would be ashamed of.

We-ell, it's been kind of a surreal week. My mother's funeral was on Friday the 30th (see photos above) and turned out really well. The Samoans at my church honoured Mum by putting a tapa cloth over the coffin to show their respect for her. One of the nicest things about the funeral as a whole was how at the gravesite, the kids (grandchildren, vague relatives, and other) let off helium balloons into the sky. It was a beautiful gesture. Apparently Mum had loved that at my aunty's funeral a couple of years ago. It was also just really good to see some sort of physical mirroring of what I think death must be like. It made it sink in a bit more, yet not in a bad, or gloomy, way.

Most of my sisters and brothers have gone back to the respective homes now, or on holiday, except for one sister, Felicity, and her husband, Mike, so I'm just having a relaxing time, reading books (in particular, Zorro by Isabel Allende, and Lost in a Good Book, by Jasper Fforde, and I will start Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe soon, in preparation for my eighteenth century novel course at university this year), watching movies (Mrs Caldicot's Cabbage War, Runaway Jury, Whale Rider, Ocean's 11, etc...), going to cafes... I went to Akaroa yesterday with Felicity and Mike and his parents; it's a village quite near Christchurch which is a bit of a holiday destination, being by the sea in a beautiful harbour, having lots of cute wee shops, and milking the French history for all it's worth (on Rue Jolie, even the petrol station is called L'Essence-- puh-lease!). I guess soon I'll have to start sorting out my university details for this year in earnest. Sigh. I feel like being lazy at the moment.

There's something in me that doesn't want to say that my mother died two days ago. I know that if I bare open my soul on here I'll get no response, or even worse, I'll get an email saying "nice blog. please visit my website and buy things". Sometimes it's nice that no one reads my blog (not that I can complain when I don't tell anyone about it), because then I don't have to worry that what I write may offend someone or whatever, but there are times when writing diary entries that are basically private just isn't good enough. I don't want to talk right now except to people that aren't actually around. I miss my friend Katie who is working in Australia over the summer, I miss her a lot, because I don't have to get all emotional talking to her, which I really don't feel right now. People, I think, expect me to be distraught but for some reason I'm not. It was a relief when Mum died. She had been really sick, not herself, for the last few days and that was horrible. But now I just feel weird, like part of me is saying "you horrible heartless person" and another part is saying "you're just at peace and that's fine. Enjoy it while it lasts." It's very strange. It may be just because I know that life doesn't just stop, I really know that my Mum is in heaven, but then there are times when I find it very hard to imagine that. Obviously, no ear has heard, no eye has seen, etc etc what God has in store for those who love him... so it's hard to accept that Mum has really gone from this earth and that her body no longer holds Her. I wasn't there when she died, which may have helped, but I don't regret it.

The funeral is tomorrow and I think I may feel differently during and after that.

ding dong merrily on high

I am back from Dunedin today--not that I told you I was there to begin with. I stayed with my big sister and her husband and three kids. Compared to home, it was very noisy and chaotic but I had fun. It was such a relief to just leave home for five days and not have to face what's going on.

This is a photo I took of their front door which I thought looked nice and red and Christmassy. It's freezing in Dunedin, today it was absolutely pouring, and it's supposed to be summer, but apparently it was gross here too. Boring bus trip back up. When I went down, I was sitting next to a really nice Irish guy called Jay, from County Mead, who doesn't particularly like U2 and was friendly and chatty, and we got seats right at the front of the double decker bus, so had excellent views. This time, coming back, the bus ride was boring and dominated by teenagers a few years younger than me, who I am scornful of, still being very immature myself, and I didn't have to share my seat with anyone. Undoubtedly more comfortable but a lot less interesting.

Christmas is in two sleeps. I'm starting to get excited; I thought I had outgrown that, but I admit it here and now, I love Christmas like I love chocolate. My sister and I went through the Oxford Book of Carols last night, singing by the piano. There are some incredibly cool carols in there that I've never heard of before, from all over the world, some really old, some relatively new. It was just so nice to sing them with someone like Viv who also loves carols and feel happy that it was Christmas time and then drink coffee and eat chocolate and brazil nuts afterwards. Yum. Merry Christmas to anyone who may read this blog. I sincerely hope it's a good one.

honesty is the best policy

Thought for the day: I think many Christians have a big problem with honesty. We feel this need to perform, to present a happy, fulfilled and peaceful face to the world, as if by showing everyone how perfect we are, they'll want to become like us. I reckon that's the opposite of the truth. If we just told the truth, for once, that we are desperately screwed-up, doubting, foolish, weak, tired people rather than happy-clappy, iron-clad superhumans, I think we'd be a lot more attractive. Especially as everyone already knows we're not perfect. We'd get less comments about hypocrites in the church.

So I have resolved to be a person who doesn't have to put on this face to go to church. Some churches make me feel guilty for feeling unhappy. "What a beautiful day this is! Let's just praise and praise and praise the Lord!" (or something like that) I don't see why I should be expected to be perfectly peaceful and content with life as it is now. I firmly believe that my every desire and need is not going to be fulfilled on this earth. 'I still haven't found what I'm looking for.' Some people look at that perspective as if it's sacrilege but if we were just honest and admitted that we're not in heaven yet, there'd be a lot less depressed people who think they can't be Christians because they haven't managed to deceive themselves into thinking that everything's candy floss in their lives.

a long interval

Hello again. I realise I haven't been on here for ages. Just with Mum sick and everything, it's been kinda stressful and I don't really want to talk about or even write much. She's not too well, really, it's been horrible seeing her sick and it can only go downhill from here. Yeah. Well.

I haven't been working like most other uni students. It's probably part laziness, part that I can't find anything that suits travel/hours-wise, and part that I just don't need any more stress right now. It annoys me, however, that I meet people, say from uni or something who are all working their butts off, or people from elsewhere, and they ask me if I'm working--I say no, and you can see them pegging it down to pure laziness in their minds, which drives me INSANE, because it's not like I'm going to fish for sympathy off random people I hardly know and so I can't justify myself for bludging off the government. Oh well. I might be doing some busking after Christmas, I hope so anyway because that would be lots of fun! And I'll be doing some babysitting in January for my sister.

BIG NEWS, anyhow: I GOT U2 tickets!!!!!! Triumph. At last. Sweet victory. They are coming to Auckland, New Zealand on March 17 next year, supported by Kanye West (of all people). I thought I'd be ecstatic but I keep worrying that something will go wrong and I won't be able to use my ticket or something horrid like that. :( I got access to a presale, because my friend and I joined U2.com for precisely that purpose earlier this year! So there were no problems getting tickets! I am so lucky. Thank you God. The horrible thing about getting so worried about getting tickets (cos I was panicking I wouldn't be able to) is that I was thinking, can I pray to God for tickets? or will that kind of jinx it because I'm being materialistic? And I wanted them SO badly. But I was so happy to finally get them because I think it shows that God isn't like that, he doesn't mind if I get things sometimes that make me happy, especially at a time like this. So big fuzzies to God right now.

50th blog

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me... or my blog. My birthday was actually 6 days ago now. I am a big nineteen year old, and my blog is a big 50-post old. For some reason it feels like I've done way more posts than that... but I suppose my blog dashboard does not lie.

My last exam was yesterday, hooray for that. It was horrid, but I don't care anymore really. I think I managed to bluff my way through allright, and I actually managed to answer all four essay questions, which was more than I expected.

Have had a great last week and a bit--my brother and sister-in-law have come from Malaysia with their three kids. It's been so much fun. They just left for Dunedin today but will be back in Christchurch in about a week. The kids are soooo cute, so well-behaved, so friendly. One of them I have never seen before, he's only five months old, and he's LOVELY. I think I'll kidnap him before they leave.

thank goodness for shopping

Today I have sampled the delights of shopping, with my friend Sarah, who you will see in the photo with me at the top of this webpage. It has been the best day I've had for a while. I had $120 to spend on anything I felt like and it felt goooooood. I had the yummiest souvlaki ever for lunch without feeling guilty at not packing myself a lunch of corn beef sandwiches and a packet of raisins. I bought the Bono on Bono book I've been wanting for ages, sheet music for 6 Brooke Fraser songs (a singer from New Zealand), a Georgette Heyer novel (Black Sheep), and The Killers' CD, Hot Fuss. And I still have $25 left over--I don't know how I did it actually!

Minor setback in otherwise glorious day encountered about 6:00pm, when my music conductor told us he wants to film us playing corny jazzed-up version of Good King Wencelas, wearing Santa hats, and saying "Merry Christmas New Zealand!" at the end. On the news last night they asked people to send in Christmas greetings they would play at the end of every 6.00-7.00 show. Of course he had to take part. :( However, was already in a good mood, so managed to laugh about it.

capital capital

[see above] I couldn't think of anything to put in the subject heading and so I've quoted Sir William Lucas from Pride and Prejudice. :)

I got a headache and a really sore throat last night so I was lying in bed panicking, thinking I had meningitis or something, wondering if I should tell someone or if I was just being paranoid. Turns out: just being paranoid. I've never really done that before; one of my friends used to do it all the time. She'd be like: "I have a headache! Oh NO I've got a brain tumour!" I wonder if I'm becoming more highly strung as I get older and she's chilling out...

It's my 19th BIRTHDAY tomorrow! It's kind of depressing that I don't get so excited about them as I used to, I guess, but it's also quite nice that I can just relax. Well, relatively relax, I have an exam the day after. Sigh. :( But I'm meeting up with friends at a really nice cafe in the afternoon, have said no presents, don't mind if people can't come... etc etc --> I'm getting very mature. It's turning out to be a bit bigger than I expected - I invited about 27 people and a lot of them can come. Hmmm. I wonder if I should try and book a table(s). Mum and Dad have ordered a big cheesecake there for us to share, which is really nice. Hope it goes well.

here I am again

... for the third time tonight. I just don't know what's come over me. :)

Two things:

The first is this: go visit the website some other hopeful authors and I have made! We accept outside submissions...! You know you want to...! It's under my official links, but I'll put a link on this post as well: www.halfwaydownthestairs.net It is an e-zine of fiction, poetry and non-fiction... in the words of Mr Cliche, there's something for everyone.

Second thing: I've been missing my school hymn at the moment. These are the words. It is to the tune of the slow bit from Finlandia, by Sibelius (one of my favourite classical pieces):

We rest on Thee, our Shield and our Defender,
We got not forth alone against the foe,
Strong in Thy strength, safe in Thy keeping tender,
We rest on Thee, and in Thy name we go.

Yes, in Thy name, O Captain of Salvation!
In Thy dear name, all other names above!
Jesus our Righteousness, our sure Foundation,
Our Prince of Glory, and our King of Love.

We go in faith, our own great weakness feeling,
And needing more each day Thy grace to know,
Yet from our hearts, a song of triumph pealing,
We rest on Thee, and in Thy name we go.

We rest on Thee, our Shield and our Defender,
Thine is the battle, Thine shall be the praise,
When passing through the gates of pearly splendour,
Victors, we rest with Thee through endless days.

stats

When one looks up the following words on the blogspot blog search, one finds the following amount of blogs that mention these words:

U2: 191,004
Austen: 21,541
U2 Austen: 112 (and my posts made up a large percentage of these)
Colin Firth: 7,927

I wonder if U2 will have the same sort of amount of hits as Jane Austen in 200 years time, even though they have more? Something in me doubts it. That's the problem with electronica. There's something so perfect, so lasting, so permanent in a book.

This is an excerpt that interested me, from the Bono on Bono book:

Essence has to manifest itself. It's inevitable. Love has to become an
action or something concrete. It would have to happen. There must be an
incarnation. Love must be made flesh.

Just in case that's illegal, I will cite this for you... in a very tentatively professional way-- Assayas, Michka (ed.), Bono on Bono (London, 2005, Hodder and Stoughton), p.125

Sorry about how random this post is. I'm having an enjoyable evening rambling around doing nothing of importance.

people are nice

It's really lovely how when people know that times are a bit rough for you, they're extra nice. I guess I could take it in a very bad way if I was bitter. But I'm not; people are being very nice to me, and thoughtful, and I'm really appreciative of it. Today two of my friends from Navs (the uni Christian group I'm a member of) turned up at home, carrying a huge yummy roast chicken--it's delicious! The other day my friend Natalie rang up and said that a few of them are going to pool resources and take me out for lunch for my birthday present. The family has been great, Rachel made me a birthday cake because she thought it was sad I had to make my own. Felicity took me out for lunch and cafes and stuff several times. It's definitely not just GIVING me stuff, too; people have been really nice in general.

I had my first exam today, it actually went pretty well. So I'm feeling quite good about it. I was worried that if I'm not be able to get an aegrotat I'd completely bomb out, but I don't think I have. It also feels good to be able to make a good effort and do allright despite probably getting an aegrotat--I don't feel conscience-stricken.

grrr study

I'm finding it very hard to study right now. Of course, a major reason is that study is simply very boring. Another: I can't concentrate much because of Mum. Another: I think I'll be able to get an aegrotat so it's hard to motivate myself. But I know that I'd be annoyed with myself if I didn't try hard to do well etc etc.

My sister gave me a gorgeous necklace for my birthday. It's a big round paua pendant (paua is a shell you find in New Zealand that is bright blueish and kind of shiny and swirly, like how petrol goes when it drips on the ground), with black beads. It's really nice, I wore it properly last night for the first time and I love it! It's v cool.

I'm so annoyed, I lost my Coldplay X & Y CD. I have no idea where it is. I still have the case! Last time I remember listening to it, I put it in the stereo in the lounge while I was cooking something, and from then on, I haven't seen it. I really miss it. Luckily I taped it, for driving in the car, so if I'm desperate I can always listen to that.

hmm

I found out yesterday that my mother is probably/almost certainly going to die in the near future.

I do not want to talk about it
I do not want to confront it
I do not want to think about it

Quite yet, anyway.

A lot of my immediate family have turned up this weekend from elsewhere in the country which has been great. It was two of my sisters who actually told me about It. They thought no one had told me how serious It was (they were right) and that I needed to know. My brother is coming next weekend from Malaysia. My sister was coming from Australia in 3 weeks anyway, but she will probably end up coming earlier. So I suppose that's nice, although a little depressing.

This is definitely not a time for study. If I don't get that aegrotat I'll be screwed. But I don't really care. Three and a half days till my first exam, and I've only done half my notes. A week till my birthday; happy birthday to me.

God is good

He actually is. When I got home yesterday, I found a package waiting for me -- I had won a competition with the local newspaper and I am now the owner of a big book of photos of my region, Canterbury. It's a beautiful book, and the thing that made me enter was that some of the sample photos they showed in the review of it were of the very same things I took photos of when I went on my road trip with Eva in the Easter holidays. The one time I win something, it's when I'm feeling really really down and need to be cheered up, which makes me think that God had something to do with it and maybe there isn't such a thing as luck and chance.

This photo here is one of the photos I took on our trip that is featured in the book -- well, the little hut is, not MY photo in particular. That was an incredible day, we went to Mount Cook, which was so much more amazing than I had expected, not having seen it for about ten years. On the way back, there was the most beautiful late afternoon light, and we stopped and took this photo on the side of the road.

heave a sigh

I am hating study. I'm finding it really hard to concentrate on it, what with Mum being sick and everything (she had to go into hospital again yesterday), and then there's just the fact that it's boring. I'm going to apply for an aegrotat for my first exam, but you have to actually DO it first, and I'm not sure if I'll get it, so I still have to study hard. I would anyway; it would be silly not to try.

I had a pretty good day yesterday considering. I went to see the new Pride and Prejudice movie. Didn't really like it in comparison to the book and the BBC version. They tried to make it too moody and emotional, it moved too fast which meant it wasn't believable really, and they made the Bennets look quite poor, in a totally run-down manor, which I just couldn't fit into the Jane Austen squares in my head. My friends liked it, and accused me of being biased. Of course I am. I did think that Mr Collins was good, and Mr Bingley, but Mr Bennet was terrible -- they missed the whole POINT of his character, in my opinion. And they totally misinterpreted some characters such as Georgiana Darcy. I thought Mr Darcy and Elizabeth were okay, but just not as good as the previous ones. I don't think anyone could play it as well as Colin Firth. Matthew MacFadyen lacked subtlety, in my humble opinion. He mistook 'proud' for 'wooden' too much. So yeah, that's my opinion. It was only the genius of Jane Austen that had to come through somewhere that made it tolerable for me.

Then in the evening I went round to someone from my small group's house for dinner, with the rest of the small group. Fantastic food! Annette is a marvel. I don't know how she does it. Then we all did Singstar, which was fun fun fun. I wasn't really in the mood for it all, but it was nice to be distracted.

I'm really looking forward to this weekend, which does not bode well for my study, because Viv and Greg + kids are coming up from Dunedin, and Felicity and Mike are coming down from Auckland (and Rachel and Tony are already here!). I think it's mainly to see Mum, but I'll be so happy to see them again. I miss my sisters and brothers a lot at the moment.

i hate exams

Now that my lovely blob weekend is over, I'm having trouble getting into study--how surprising. It is SO boring. The problem is that my first exam, which is in about nine days, is going to be a complete nightmare - eight essays, two of which will be quite in-depth, and no hints on topics, which means we have to study the whole blimming topic and not just skim over it (American History). The exam for Shakespeare will be much better, I think, but that's scary too because I haven't read Henry V yet, and I keep putting it off. It's a bit odd how the more I panic about something, the more I ignore doing the preparation for it. I guess I don't want to admit how much work I have to do, because then I'd have to actually DO it. :)

Two of my sisters emailed me yesterday asking me how I was, what with Mum and everything. One even offered to fly me up to Auckland after exams for a bit of a holiday with her, and her husband. I'm actually fine, I think, but I really appreciated that they emailed me. I love my family. Can't wait for Christmas, when they're almost all coming back, and the only one who isn't is visiting in November.

My school friends and I had another prayer meeting last night, at Marielle's house. We've started having one every Monday. They're so fantastic, calming, etc... also means we get to see each other outside of birthday parties, and we hear everything that's going on, which is very nice. But it was just so great praying with everyone-- encouraging, peaceful, all that stuff... It's after times like that when I really don't get why some people don't think they could ever become Christians - you know, the type of people who go, "well, it's great you've found something to live for, and you've found your truth, but it's just not for me." Tosh. (Tosh is a great word!) It's for everyone. That's the coolest part. Or one of the coolest parts. Anyway, I just don't think people realise the contradictions they live under. The idea that truth is not absolute, that anything you believe is a truth is the scariest idea. And as soon as someone robs them or rapes their daughter, they're shouting for justice. It doesn't make sense, they say things because they like the sound of them, and then, at the times when they are being most true to themselves, they contradict things they've previously said. I also think karma is a scary thing. Sure, I believe that when someone does something, good or bad, they will generally get some sort of compensation or punishment for it, eventually. However, the reasoning that this is entirely a good thing escapes me. You've got to be entirely convinced of your own perfection to believe that and think it's a good thing... and I am so not perfect. I wonder if I wasn't under grace, what things would come round to me in the future? I shudder to think of it. Eugh. That's why I love the U2 song called Grace. She travels outside of karma ... grace makes beauty out of ugly things ... I love those words.

Another U2 song I love that I've only discovered recently... Wake Up Dead Man. And Running to Stand Still, and 40, and that one on The Joshua Tree whose name I can't remember right now that talks about the hands of love. :) Whenever I ask myself what U2 song I like the best, I can't quite decide. It's different with Jane Austen, Persuasion is definitely my favourite novel of hers, although obviously I love all the others. But I think if I had to choose five or so U2 songs, they'd probably be: All I Want Is You, Desire, One, Bad and In A Little While (yup, the slow ones mostly, I'm sorry to say!). The only song that I would be REALLY disappointed not to see live in concert is Where the Streets Have No Name. But once I've chosen those five favourites, all the others kind of blur. If I think of one over another, I feel guilty. There's ones like Pride that I just think are so classic, so amazing musically, so different. That chorus is just so different to anything else that's around, in its chords and its majorness and everything... if that's understandable. Then I think about the less famous ones like Numb or Discotheque that are just so cool. They're so surprising, they sneak up on you before you realise how cool they are. I love the Rattle and Hum movie. Apparently a lot of people hated it, the band included, but I love it a lot because it's so cool to see U2 back in the day when they weren't quite yet this fully established, mega-band that I've only recently come to love. I had only seen the Elevation tour on DVD before I saw Rattle and Hum. The energy's still there now, but I think having seen something of them in the 80's, I can now understand them a bit better now. Especially Adam.

Anyway I'm going to stop waffling and go and do some study. Sigh. I read in the Bono on Bono book, this weekend, that Bono was going to do an English and History degree like me, but got kicked out of uni for some reason two weeks into the course. So I guess I'd better take advantage of my education... :) I feel responsible.

another party

My gosh I am an exciting person. Last time I posted on here I had just been to a party and this time too : this afternoon I went to my nephew's fifth b'day party. :) How fun. I got to eat little kid food like cheerios on toothpicks, cheezels, skewered strawberries/marshmallows, and triangles of bread with hundreds and thousands on them; I even got a goodie bag at the end (granted, it was only because one little kid didn't turn up!). So very exciting. Poor little Alex was rather tired or over-excited though because he was VERY irritable, ditto with his big brother. They fought over everything. The lolly scramble was a shambles because almost all the little kids complained that some people had more lollies than others (which I thought was kinda silly when the whole point of a lolly scramble is that it's every man for himself), but there was one very sweet little boy who calmly gave every other complaining boy one of his own lollies until he only had about two left.

Alex got some really cool presents. One of them was these dinosaur bones encased in plaster, and you have to dig them out so you can make the dinosaur! So cool. I always wanted to be an archaeologist. Another present was a cheap camera with a film; that would have been my dream present when I was a kid. I gave him this voice distorter which I thought looked really fun--and it was, but just really loud and high-pitched, with heaps of background static, so I hope my sister and her husband still like me now. :)

My mum has just been in hospital for a couple of nights which hasn't been nice, exactly, but she's back home now, and seems pretty good. It wasn't anything majorly dangerous, but the issue is what could be causing it. (She's had cancer for the last five or so years, with it coming back lots of times, although most of the treatment has been pretty successful. So whenever something's weird with her, they need to check it out pretty thoroughly.)

I'm having a lovely blob weekend. Uni has finished for the year -- apart from exams, of course. I handed in two essays on Thursday and Friday, and there was NO way I was going to get straight into studying. I'm trying not to think about it, actually. The depressing thing is, as soon as exams are over, I'm going to have to get a job. Sigh. I went round town and a few malls dropping off my CV at various places yesterday, actually. I hope I can get something that isn't too many hours because most of my family is coming back to Christchurch for Christmas and I don't want to be working my butt off while they have fun. Anyway, wish me luck.

party party party

I went to a fiftieth birthday party last night; it was fantastic. Had such a great time! It was for a guy from my church, and a lot of Samoans from my church were there also; they started up a big Samoan dance, and it was velly fun. It was hilarious watching the rather tough (but secretly sweet) guy whose birthday it was (he is a prison warden, an ambulance driver, and a sheep shearer) dancing island-style with a lei around his neck. :)

I'm feeling a little anxious about work and study and everything; I have two essays due this week, on Thursday and Friday, and exams start pretty soon--my first is on the 26th. It's weird, both of the essays this time I'm writing on women issues, which I usually find really boring and overdone, but I'm finding them really interesting this time. Granted, they're both set a few years back in history (one in Shakespearean society, to do with Othello, and one in 1920-1940 in USA), which is probably the reason. I get so hacked off with feminists today who make everything a big deal. Someone told me that in a textbook he has, someone says that the words "broadcaster" and "master copy" are sexist terms, on a par with terrible words such as "chairman" and "mankind". Puh-lease. Get a grip. Life's too short. I think the really extreme feminists must think everyone else is always thinking about them and how they can most insult them. THE WORLD DOES NOT REVOLVE AROUND YOU, YOU STUPID FEMINIST LADY.

Having said that, I consider myself a feminist in a moderate sense. I am quite happy to use the terms "master copy" and "chairman" because I personally do not invest any sexist meaning in them. But I very often think that men are very silly, and that women come off a lot better in history. Look at some of the most important characters in the history of Christianity: King David, Peter, Moses. All of them made pretty huge mistakes at points. Compare that with Esther, Ruth, Mary. Of course everyone makes mistakes. But some of these people made them on a much grander scale than women. :) I take great pride in that.

Flanders and Swann

...are the best. I listened to both records my family own last night, back to back. It was so nice, after having a hard day, working flat out studying. They are so amusing. And every time I listen, I get a new joke, despite having been brought up on them and listening to the same shows x number of times.

For all you heathens, Flanders and Swann are British comedians from the 50s. They wrote a lot of songs that are fantastic - Swann was a great pianist/composer and Flanders wrote the words - and they also did a kind of stand-up comedy, well, Flanders did. They're very British, very 1950s, but I love them. :) When we learnt about the first and second laws of thermodynamics in Biology, I didn't bother listening because I knew it all already - from them. It's scary as well, the more I learn at uni, the more I see what it was they were talking about - they make plenty of references to Shakespeare (Flanders calls Swann 'Caliban' at one point, for example) and history. So that's all very exciting. Shows how useful a university education can be!