Precious… I watched this last night. And I cried like a little baby! Mon’ique (is that where the apostrophe goes?) was incredible. Absolutely deserved her Oscar. I thought the whole thing was almost perfectly balanced… it had that whole ‘teacher changes the student’s lives, gives them hope to live up to their potential, etc etc’ thing going on… but without being so hokey? I’m not too sure that I loved the fantasy sequences, but that said they made their point, and worked in the context of the movie, so I think I’m on board with them.

Once Were Warriors… Another movie that made me cry like a baby! I actually had to leave the room at one point, as my cousin hung himself last year, and it’s still not something I feel overly comfortable watching. I don’t know what I was actually expecting from this movie, but I thought it was quite amazing as well. My boyfriend bought it over here to watch, as he is quarter Maori and apparently his father has a real problem with the movie or something. One of those achingly beautiful movies that intermittedely blows up and slams you right in the face. Kind of like the main character I guess.

Beetlejuice…It’s a Tim Burton movie, and not a bad one. I kind of always assumed it would be a little better, but I enjoyed it. At the end of the day thought, I’ve seen the same thing from Tim Burton so many times that I can’t get too excited about it anymore. He should definitely stick to original storytelling though. I still haven’t seen Alice in Wonderland and I have no real plans to pay to see it either.

Surrogates…could have been a lot better than it was, if it didn’t try so hard to be so much better than it was! My best friend described it as “a poor man’s Blade Runner”. That’s basically it. There were two characters who I thought were the same person the whole time! Not too much to say about this. It’s not terrible or anything, strictly meh material.

On my to watch list over mid semester break:

(And may I just say…some of these I’m strictly watching because I ALWAYS get asked about them at work and I’m sick of having to say, oh, I hear it’s okay I want to give an actual opinion! Even if I’m not allowed to say, oh, it’s shit)

  • Where the Wild Things Are (came out on dvd yesterday, like 4 days early I think!)
  • Jennifer’s Body (same as above)
  • A Serious Man
  • Mao’s Last Dancer
  • Dancer in the Dark (because omg I have never seen it, and I always mean to, but never do)
  • Wake in Fright
  • Watchmen
  • 500 Days of Summer (have bought it home twice already!)
  • The Box
  • Antichrist (am so shit scared to watch this movie that I will need my boyfriend…on the other hand I might be too scarred to sleep with him after).

Monday: Uni. Ex love. Over it. Grateful for current love.

Tuesday: Clean, work, rinse, repeat.

Wednesday: Therapy. Compromise, security. Also: unhealthy influences. Glasses! Smooth night at work.

Thursday: Library, lunch with him, procrastination. Productive night at wo. Dinner and Lost. Love ❤

Friday: Worst presentation ever. Work. Drunken boyfriend. Frustration.

Saturday: Be vewwwwy quiet…I’m hunting zombies. Passion & honesty.More work, less career.

Sunday: Still lying in the smell of our sex. To come: lunch with judgemental family & Alzheimer’s ridden grandmother. Then work.

*in other words, I can’t be fucked writing a real entry right now. It’s been a good week.

so awkward

March 19, 2010

I think the way that I interact with others is quite… strange. No one would call me an introvert. I am definitely out there as far as people go. I lack an internal censor that tells me when a normal person would stfu. I’ve never really found it easy to relate to most people because I am just… strange. This is something that has definitely improved with age, but I’ve always had that outsider vibe to me. There’s always something not quite right in my friendships; I hang back just that little bit.

Being in a reasonably new relationship (I think it has been nearly 5 months now? Who’s counting?) I’ve slowly met a lot of my boyfriend’s friends, and he has met mine. Our approaches, though, are kind of different. I always find it hard, especially when you don’t actually have a whole lot in common with the people who are now inadvertadely at least somewhat part of your social circle.. Honestly, most to all of my boyfriend’s friends… I don’t think I would ever become friends with if I met them in another context. There’s a couple I’ve kind of hit it off with, I think. But honestly, I think some of them are kind of over intellectualised wankers who spend all their time talking about, you know, the man and the status quo and all this stuff that just doesn’t interest me. (My boyfriend is very political. I am not. I was when I was younger but I’ve only become apathetic, mostly because I don’t really believe that any of the things he has dedicated so much of himself to – protests etc – really do much good).

So, apart from the couple of them that I get along with, I just hang back. I wait for him to come to me. I won’t sit in the corner and look miserable, but I keep some distance from the situation. Unless I get super drunk and spill my guts to one of his friends about…something I can barely even remember. Haha.How humilating!

My boyfriend does not take this approach. He’s extremely opinionated, often obnoxiously so. And he’s kind of used to being the centre of attention. So sometimes, honestly, he tries a little too hard. He becomes this amplified version of himself. This is especially true when he is around my best friend… which I can understand. My best friend is male, we have had a tempestuous on/off friendship, that once upon a time (a very long time ago) veered into romantic territory. So I can understand the need for this particular friend’s approval.

I think my boyfriend compulsively wants to be liked, honestly. Or if not liked, then noticed. On Wednesday, we came back from the St Patrick’s Day Party we had been at, and found my best friend STILL at my house 2 or 3 hours after we left, smoking pot in my backyard. (Which on another note – wtf? Not really cool, but… whatever.) Another friend of mine was with him. And K, he just turned up the dial. He was his drunkest, most obnoxious self. I was a little mean about I guess but at the same time, I kind of made it obvious that I was equally drunk and obnoxious.

Then we went inside and he instantly goes “I feel like I embarass you in front of your friends”. Which… he doesn’t, exactly. I think my friends would like him a lot more if he just acted more like the him I see. Not the version he projects to keep up with whatever this persona is he’s used to showing people. I love his passion and how out there he is, but I don’t love him because of these things

And then we were just cuddling on the couch watching Lost, and my friend comes in and was like “when the fuck did you two sober up?”. We were still drunk. It was just more subdued and frankly, the way I prefer it

Sort of back to my original point a bit more, I guess I just find it funny how we’re both sort of equally extroverted (though in different ways!) and we react to feeling socially awkward so differently. Although I also think it’s at least partially an age thing – I’m 3 years older than him, and have the life experience to deal with said awkwardness differently… because when I was 19, it was a completely different story.

Tonight I’m going to his ex girlfriend’s current boyfriend’s birthday party. How fun for me! But on the other hand, he sees my ex all the time, I guess. And it’s not an insecurity thing, because I’m secure in our relationship. I think this just feels awkward because it should be awkward.

How many times did I say awkward in this entry? I can’t be fucked checking. Time to go home, after getting exactly 10% of my presentaton for next week done.

March 16, 2010

I just spent ages making a new playlist for work, because I’ve just been putting my ipod on shuffle, which is fine, except I can’t really play anything explicit/inappropriate (THANK GOD I was at the counter that time ‘Flower’ by Liz Phair came on and my coworker was serving a family!!).

And then there’s the embarassingly bad music I have on my ipod for private sad times, and girl’s night in. Miley Cyrus levels of bad.

So I made a new playlist, specifically avoiding anything with naughty words etc. I won’t post the whole thing because, well, it’s 741 songs long. But here is a list of the artists that are on it:

Read the rest of this entry »

I just came home from uni, after spending many hours knashing my teeth in rage, because the network kept dropping out, and I could not amply procrastinate listen to the radio while I studied. I then went to my lecture… as everyone else was walking out. Whoops. I guess I haven’t got my timetable memorised yet.

This is my second attempt at a degree. This semester is my second attempt at my second attempt. I still can’t seem to maintain a large amount of enthusiasm for university. When is it time to give up and admit that maybe studying is not for me?

While I’ve always been told I’m smart – and my academic life up until a point seems to suggest as much – (OC class in primary school, selective high school, skipped ahead in a couple of subjects, good UAI despite a lack of any real effort), I feel stupid at university. But it’s not because I can’t understand the material. I just don’t care. I’m not a naturally motivated person, and I’m not really passionate about anything. So I don’t do the readings. I usually stop attending halfway through the semester, and have yet to attend a single exam. What is the point of me being here?

It’s not a particularly new or original sentiment but – our generation is spoilt for choice. Overwhelmed by options. Drowning in opportunities. I have been raised to believe that the whole world is available to me. But now I can’t commit. I don’t feel passionate about anything. I’m not creative. I’m clever but I have no deep abiding interest in anything. Except for tv. I love tv.

That’s no throwaway comment either; I believe that as a medium, television is on its way to surpassing film. Shows like Lost, Deadwood, Oz.. to name a couple… are amazing. The Wire definitely belongs on this list, although I admittedly am still to get properly into it. I know I will love it. But it’s a commitment of a show, and I have yet to take that next step. My curent job allows me to explore and communicate this singular passion, albeit in a pretty lame way. The other day a customer said “Oh, you must be the Lost fan my husband’s told me about”. Hahah. I get pretty enthused about Lost. I can’t decide just how sad it is that she knew that.

Anyway, I don’t know what I would want to do if I could somehow parlay this interest into a career. Review? I’m definitely not a creative writer. But then, I’m not a  very good writer in general. I’ve thought of being an editor. I do like editing. As in, I will enthusiastically edit people’s work whenever they ask me to. I love editing things that my boyfriend writes. So maybe I should be an editor.

And I always was interested in law. My first degree (attempt) was an LLB. Then I got faced with the reality of the unbelievable tedium that is the  actual study of law and more or less immediately left. After 2 1/2 semesters which are now useless to me.

So, I have ideas. But the thing is… I don’t feel passionately about any of these ideas to be motivated enough to follow through. Ultimately, the problem isn’t my excess of options, it’s that I’m an unmotivated, lazy shit. And it’s easy to be mediocre.

moving on

March 9, 2010

Tonight I went back to the brothel I used to work in. Not to work, but because I left some textbooks there yonks ago and kind of assumed my locker would still be mine and my stuff would still be there. Apparently not.

I’m okay with this. I can buy new books. I’m okay no longer having a space of my own there.

I could’ve worked tonight if I wanted to, just walked in the door and been one of them again.

But I don’t want to.

I didn’t actually intend for my last time there to be…well, my last time. I had just shifted into working more or less full time at my new job, and I was still in the very new stages of a new relationship, and I had been working less and less. But it was never like, okay, today is my last time. It just sort of happened that I never went back.

It makes me sick now. Even sitting here, after being there for about 20 minutes tonight, chatting to a couple of girls I used to work with, sitting on that couch where I spent so many hours of my life just waiting waiting waiting… I want to go and take a shower right now.

I’ve sort of had it in my head for a while that I would go back,  make some cash to pay some bills, get myself over the last few financial hurdles, and then, be gone forever. Going from earning $130-250 an hour to earning less than 20 is fucking difficult. What I earn in an average week now, I used to make on a reasonable Saturday night.

My  boyfriend knows about all this. Last night he asked if I needed him to come with me to pick up my stuff, for support. He is absolutely fucking gorgeous and I adore the shit out of him. I declined, but the offer meant so much to me, I don’t think he even realised how deeply it touched me.

I sort of meant there to be a point to this post. Actually, I kind of meant for there to be a point to this blog, period. Maybe there will be at some point, but for now, it’s just whatever’s on my mind.

Prostitution is a funny one. I don’t think it’s universally bad, but it was certainly bad for me, and I’m happy to be out. The thought of going back terrifies me. Being back there tonight… kind of felt comfortable. Like an old addiction I could easily lapse back into.

I think I will write more on this topic, but I am tired, I have a lot on my mind, and I need to just relax. I have my first therapist appointment in a while tomorrow, I want to relax before I go through all this stuff with him.


March 7, 2010

I just watched the film Gia. Another tortured beauty destroys themselves with drugs. Yawn yawn yawn.

I used to kind of be a drug addict. Apart from weed, I never stuck with one drug for long, or did it often enough to be JUST addicted to that. I just liked being high. I used to party for days. Pretty much the only commonly available (? or at least well known) drug I haven’t done is heroin.

Weed is the only drug I’ve ever actively struggled to kick, because being a stoner is really, so easy. It makes you okay with being bored. And I used to be bored, a lot. I didn’t have a whole lot to my life. The reality is, I’ve made a lot of shitty choices, and wasted a lot of my potential, already.

My main other drug of choice has been acid. Acid saved my life in its own way. Two weeks before I ever took my second acid trip, I spent 4 days locked in my room with this random old man I met at a gay bar, who was far more fucked in the head than I was, even then. When he told me he had cocaine, I was so excited, it’s really expensive here, and it’s kind of a glamourous drug. But he told me he liked to shoot up, as you got far more out of it. He didn’t say I had to. But after a while, I got curious, and I did it.

To be honest, I can barely remember how it felt. I don’t even know that it actually felt that good. But something in it compels you to keep going and going. Things were really fucked up for me at that point – I was, literally, digging my own grave. My drug use kept escalating and escalating. I had been working as a prostitute in a brothel for about 6 months at that point. My best friends didn’t want anything to do with me anymore, and I refused to consider that maybe there was something wrong with me. Of course nothing was wrong with me – they were the ones who were overreacting. They were hypocrites; it’s not like they’d never taken drugs. I was on a bad path, to use a cliche, because the cliche fits perfectly.

Then, one day, I went to a festival, I took some acid.

And it’s like I woke up.

I saw where my actions were taking me, and it was terrifying. How did I get to the point where suddenly it was okay to stick needles in my arm with some stranger I met in a club?

All these lightbulbs went off in my head, like cartoon lightbulbs. I spent all day thinking and talking. It was like I finally saw the truth of my situation.

I have told this story to so many people, because my life – and attitude – changed entirely that day. I told my mother everything. Well, about the drugs, not the prostitution. I went and reconciled with my friends. I stopped taking drugs. I sought out a therapist, and I went back to university.

It’s not like that’s the whole story. It’s not. It’s taken a while to be in a (almost) completely healthy place. Because eventually I did start taking drugs again, and in some ways it even got worse than it did before that trip. Ever tried ice? DON’T.

Anyway – my point to all this is – or what started this rant – fuck glamour whores in movies who are so beautiful and tortured and fucked up. Because yeah, they do exist. And no one thinks digging a hole in your hand with a needle is glamourous or sexy. But honestly, I am SO BEYOND BORED with watching movies and reading books about beautiful drug addicts who eventually destroy themselves. It is the same old shit over and over again. And honestly, that world is just boring. I can’t do it anymore. I have no interest.

This doesn’t mean I will never take drugs again, because I almost certainly will. And okay, some people can keep a handle on their drug use. I can not. Not to the point of being a dirty aids junkie. But it kills a little bit of me, and I have found myself enjoying it less and less. The last time I took ecstasy, I wound up sketching out. I came back from the party I was at, and when my housemate came home with all these people for a kick on party, I wanted to die. I locked myself in my room and honestly all I wanted was for my boyfriend to come and hug me, but he was sick himself, and it just wasn’t on the cards. It was honestly one of the worst nights of my life. Not every time is like that now, but it’s been getting increasinsgly worse so… why bother?

Fuck drugs. I prefer being happy, healthy and in love. I don’t need drugs anymore, and I have no more interest in that world.


March 7, 2010

I just drank an up’n’go in the shower. At night. While conditioning my hair. This may make sense in the morning. But at night?! I do not understand my thought processes.

first night

March 5, 2010

So I was trying to think of an image to use as a header, something that would sum me up, or that I felt was sufficiently arty to make me seem… deep or something.

But then it occured to me. This is my blog. Shouldn’t I write something?

I have to say, I don’t actually have a lot to write about right at this second, but to be fair to me it was a long day, and I’m kind of sick. The kind of sick where I’ve been referred to a couple of specialists, which honestly scares the holy fucking shit out of me, because I have been brushing a few things off for months. I may be overreacting, in fact I almost certainly am. Because I don’t really get sick.

I hope.

I’ve been epileptic for a long time, my first ‘proper’ seizure (as in the thrashing around, eyes rolling back, speaking in tounges type) was over 10 years ago. I haven’t had one of those seizures in a long time, and when the ones I have had (semi) recently were due to ecstasy. The chemical type, not like…. the orgasmic type or whatever.

But now, almost the longer I go without having a seizure, the more paranoid I am about it. I have actually developed a severe phobia of seizures, to the point where if I am feeling unwell I sort of start to see a phantom aura. It’s not really there and I can’t really see it, but just the thought of actually having a seizure brings it on. Maybe it’s the fact that, more than once, I could have died. Ecstasy + epilepsy is not a great mix. Last night I felt sick, and had to sit down, and felt bad because my boyfriend was over, and I was having one of these phantom auras. I couldn’t really see anything. I think my mind sort of just… seizes the possibility. Most of the time when it happens, I take some Epilim, and it calms me down. Which is pretty much 100% of a placebo effect, because there’s no way that medication could do that that fast. It’s not a benzo, it’s not mood altering, and it definitely takes more than two minutes to work.

This makes me feel really stupid, and last night I didn’t want to tell my boyfriend, because he would have freaked out. It would’ve been a concerned, loving freak out but… a freakout nonetheless.

I’ve never really had to consider my health before.

I’m only in my early twenties, but my body can not take the thrashing it once could, and that scares the crap out of me as well. I’m far too young to be getting older.