Graduation!

No, no. Not me. My graduation is still two years away.

I just witnessed a batch of graduates parade down Lambton Quay here in Wellington. Led by a kilt-clad, bagpipe-playing orchestra, they walked in groups according to their area of study. So you had, amongst others, education, humanities and social studies, law, science … and my memory fails. Jesus, I study at Vic, and I don’t even know what else they offer.

The reason I went into town to watch is that one of my friends is one of the graduates today. He was in the science group. I have seen the same progression down Lambton Quay once before, earlier this year, but that was a pure co-incidence.

Seeing the students in their graduation outfits, complete with the hat with the tassel, makes me want to be a graduate so bad. I met up with my friend last night, and he told me how it all works. Apparently they really do the whole ‘throw-their-hats-in-the-air’ thing which, for some reason, I assumed was only the case with American graduations.

It’ll be interesting to see when (if it happens at all) I become a graduate. At the moment the plan is to complete my bachelor’s degree, and that’s it. Which means that if I pass all my courses, I’ll be a graduate in more or less two years to the day. Exciting.

However, if my desire to learn even more is stronger than my desire to graduate in two years’ time, then I’ll do at least another year at uni, which is likely to be a one year course in screenwriting (you can tell that I’ve already thought about this).

At the moment I can’t possibly imagine leaving Wellington, but who knows how I might feel after another two years here. It’s a fantastic place, and I love so many people here, but if I’m no closer to starting a career here once I’m ready to graduate, then there’s nothing to keep me here, really.

Wellington is absolutely abuzz today. I’m currently sitting in my favourite cafe in Lambton Quay, enjoying a lunch consisting of a mocha and a bowl of fries, typing away on my wee netbook.

I heart cafe offices.

Graduation time is an amazing time, because the city is full of all the students who have returned for their graduation, as well as their families.

That is what I look forward to the most about graduation, to be honest. Getting my family down here to watch me graduate, and celebrate with me. The best thing about putting off graduation is, for me, that it leaves more time for my family to save up money for the huge trip down from Norway – it’s not as if they’ll be coming down for just a weekend, plus they have to pay for six people, if everyone is coming…

Right, better finish off my fries now. I’ve taken up a table for three all by myself for more than half an hour, and the place is packed. I’m sure the staff would be shooting me dirty glances right about now if they weren’t so nice in this place.

Twenty Candles

Just sitting here eating some chocolate love hearts. And listening to Christmas songs.

I got the chocolate from my best friend in Norway. Because today is my birthday. Or, well, technically it isn’t yet, because of the fact that I was born in Norway, which is about 12 hours behind New Zealand, but I only see this as an excuse to celebrate for 2-3 days straight, to make sure I cover my birthday in all the different time zones.

Holy cow. There was just a delivery for me. A basket full of flowers and stuff. From my family in Norway – thank you, I love you so much!! You just made my day.

I started celebrating my birthday last night, with a few close friends. I had an amazing night, and despite the fact that half a bottle of malibu and half a bottle of vodka was consumed, I woke up this morning feeling fine.

I’m still undecided about what I’m doing today. So far I haven’t made any specific plans, other than to tidy up my room (there are empty alcohol bottles and cans, dirty plates, cups, etc, general rubbish, and clothes lying around…), eat a fair amount of unhealthy food, listen to some good music, and reply to messages on Facebook. Tonight? No idea.

I prayed for some nice, sunny weather today, having celebrated my birthday in dark, cold and usually wet conditions for most of my life, but the weather gods didn’t really listen to me. It’s overcast and about 13C outside.

Whatever, I’ve got chocolate.

Movie night

This afternoon I bought a ticket for the midnight screening of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1.

I didn’t plan on going to the midnight screening, because I’m not really that much of a hard-core HP fan (although I love the books) and not desperate to watch it straight away; I’d prefer to go with someone if I went, and anyway I assumed that all the tickets would be long gone. Then I read on the cinema’s Twitter page this morning that there were still some tickets left to the midnight screening tonight, and I was like, ‘why not?’

So during my stroll around Wellington this afternoon I stopped at the cinema and bought a ticket. I’m going by myself, but that’s alright. I’m sure the experience is going to make up for it. I wonder if there will be people dressed up as HP characters…

The “official” world premiere is, as far as I know, November 19. However, that doesn’t seem to apply to NZ. Here the date is November 18, and thanks to the time difference between NZ and Europe (read: Norway), and me going to the midnight screening, I’m going to see the movie way before anyone in Norway does. Wicked.

If I was a mean person, I’d run home after it was finished and tell all my friends in Norway who are HP fans everything that happens. But that would be cruel, and I’m not going to do it.

Before the movie I’m having a wee drinking sesh with one of my friends from Norway, who just happens to live in Wellington as well. I’m meeting her in half an hour or so, so I better get going.

I’ll provide you all with my opinion of the movie as soon as I’m able to…

Have you locked the door?

The slightly unnerving experience of having a complete stranger walk into my bedroom at 2.45am, while I was sound asleep, has emphasized the importance of one thing to me: Locks.

This actually happened to me last night. Not only did it put me off sleeping for the rest of the night, it also put me off the poor woman who walked into my room, thinking it was my flatmate’s bedroom. It was his girlfriend.

I don’t usually lock my bedroom door at night, because I live in a fairly safe area and I trust my flatmates. So it was quite an incomprehensible situation when I suddenly woke up after I heard what I think sounded like a knock on the door, turned over in bed and opened my eyes, and saw that light was flooding my bedroom from outside. No one ever opens my door, especially not in the middle of the night.

So I turned around and tried to get a look at the door, but I only caught a fleeting glimpse of a person leaving the room in a hurry, and a second later I heard the front door slam shut, leaving my door open and every light in the flat on.

Now’s probably also the time to mention that I was home alone. Gulp. I’ve often said that having an unexpected guest at the flat wouldn’t scare me, because both my flatmates are professional Thai kick boxing instructors. They’d whoop anyone’s arse. But there I was, all alone, asleep, and someone walked into my bedroom.

Finding myself suddenly wide awake and my brain working at 200 miles per hour to try to come up with a solution to the mystery that had just unfolded in real life right there in my room, I turned onto my stomach and lay there cradling my pillow for comfort, when all of a sudden, lo and behold, another surprise! A cat walked into my room.

Now this wasn’t just any cat. This was my favourite cat in all of New Zealand. He lives just down the road and is the friendliest cat I’ve ever met. He’s gorgeous, and loves people, and has followed me home once in the past. I had to shut the door on him then, which was heartbreaking. I love cats, and I love this cat particularly much.

So seeing this lovely, furry creature also make its way into my bedroom was almost more than I could handle in one night. What the hell was going on? At least seeing him made me act. I put on a pyjama top and made to pick up the cute kitty to put him back outside. He was purring before I’d even touched him.

It’s fair to say that what I did next was less than clever. But it was in the middle of the night, and my brain was utterly confused. What I did was walk to the locked front door, open it, crouch down, and put the cat down outside while looking to the right to look for people. Just as I turned my head left to look for people on the other side, I heard a voice.

At the far end of the walkway outside my front door stood a blond woman. She looked at me, and said apprehensively: ‘I’m sorry, I think I just walked into your room.’ All I could reply with was, ‘that was you?’ My fleeting vision of a person in my room had strongly suggested a male person to me, but once again it’s fair to say that I was barely awake when it happened.

She then proceeded to explain herself. She told me she’s one of my flatmates’ girlfriend, and asked me if he was at home. Funnily enough, he wasn’t, and I didn’t know where he was. A bit strange to show up at your boyfriend’s place uninvited at 2.45am, “break in” and walk into his flatmate’s room, and not even know that he’s not there, don’t you think?

She said she didn’t know that a female lived there as well, so she had thought that she’d walked into the wrong flat. Once she learned that her boyfriend does indeed share a flat with me, she was quick to pick up her bag and stroll into the flat again, without waiting for any kind of invitation. But I was gracious about it. After all, the mystery was solved. It hadn’t been a mad, raving rapist slash killer.

Once inside again, I told her to make herself at home, and then I went back to bed. I could hear the woman rummaging about in the other rooms, and when I thought she’d gone to bed, all the lights in the kitchen where still on. Stupid cow, I actually have to pay the bill, you know.

After lying there for a while thinking about what had just happened, I realised that I still hadn’t locked my bedroom door. Once I’d considered this woman’s weird entrance in the first place, at such an ungodly hour, I decided that she could possibly be a bit unstable after all, and might not appreciate the discovery that her boyfriend shares a flat with a woman. So I got up, tip-toed to my door, and locked it. If you try to stab me in my sleep, I’ll hear you coming, you crazy bitch.

However, I found it really difficult to go back to sleep. Firstly my mind was on red alert following the strange yet exciting events of the night, and secondly I was afraid of going back to sleep because I don’t fully trust people who sneak into other people’s homes late at night.

It took me more than two hours to calm down enough to drift off to Never Never Land, and when I did, it was a restless sleep. I’m pretty sure I heard my flatmate’s voice at some point as well, and if that’s right it means that he came home some time during the night. This morning he was gone again, however. And when I woke up, it was to find all the lights on (again), the woman sleeping in my flatmates’ room (with the door ajar), and a kitchen that looked like it had been nuked. Seriously, who cooked dinner in the middle of the night, and decided to leave traces of all the ingredients, and every pot and pan they used, dirty, on the bench and in the sink? I have a pretty good hunch…

So of course I proceeded to loudly make coffee (I have a very noisy espresso machine) and played music unneccesarily loudly in my room, to make sure that the woman would be awoken. It’s only fair, seeing how she not only robbed me of several hours of sleep last night, but also gave me a real fright.

From now on I’m sleeping with my door locked. You just can’t trust anyone these days.

Summer dreams

Boy, I’m a slacker. For now. My love for the beach actually caused me to miss out on a public lecture I wanted to go to tonight, by a UK expert. It was about employment in the film industry, and sounded very interesting and useful. However, I didn’t manage to drag my arse away from the beach early enough for me to get home and have a shower and make it there in time.

Time to sharpen up. I need to sort out my priorities. Living on the sunny side of life is definitely a little too high up. Hopefully that’s going to change in a fortnight, when I’m investing in a bike. Improved means of getting around = a more efficient me, right? I’m super excited about it. Just knowing that I’m about to get a bike makes it feel like Christmas has already arrived.

Anywho, here are some nice and summery photos from my day at the beach, to make all you people enjoying a cold, dark winter in Norway drool with jealousy. Sorry.

Tales from the beach

Prepare yourselves for a non-stop stream of stories involving beach, booze, strangers, sand, ocean, ice cream, sun, bare feet, long days and endless amounts of adventure. In short: Summer.

Oh, and sunburn, blisters, dehydration, sleepless nights, hangovers, lazyness and the annual Christmas weight gain.

But let’s not sweat the petty things. Let’s pet the sweaty things instead. (Right, that actually came from one of those awesome rental vans. – See what you’ve done to me, uni?? I won’t even plagiarise a van.)

In my desperate desire to get a tan, I’ve neglected my blog. But all is well as long as I’m happy, right? And how can I not be, what with the sun shining from a clear blue sky every day and me having all the time in the world to kill, in whichever way I see fit.

So, I wander to the beach. Every day. I bring my Empire magazine, something to drink, and my iPod, and I’m all set for a long, lazy day in the sun. If a catastrophic earthquake struck and the entire beach was swallowed by the ocean, I would have died with a smile on my face. Because I’ve got a tan.

I spent about 5 hours in the sun today, first lying around in various grassy areas (more commonly known as ‘parks’) around the city, before heading to the Oriental Bay beach where I spent most of my afternoon/evening.

Y’know, it’s astonishing how many hours’ worth I get out of a single magazine. I’ve been reading the same Empire for a week now, and I think I might be about halfway through. It’s so nice though, just relaxing at the beach, with music in my ears, a magazine in my hands, munching on chips and drinking cold drinks straight from the fridge. There’s sand between my toes, a gentle breeze brushing over me, the sound of people laughing, and waves rolling in…

I see it now. Why people love summer.

It was at the same beach, just before I was about to leave, that I started talking to this really nice woman (about feet, of all things), and now we’ve just agreed to meet for a coffee tomorrow, and then I’ll assist her in shopping for a dress. I’m definitely going to the beach every day from now on. Oh, hang on. I already do that.

I just realised that I never wrote about the Guy Fawkes celebration. There were fireworks in the harbour. It was stunning. Then it rained, and everyone ran for shelter in the pubs and bars around town. It was messy.

Back to sunbathing. I’ve discovered that I still possess that uncanny ability to go to the beach looking like I’ve never seen the sun before, and return home looking like someone actually threw me into an oven and left me there until I was all crusty. Ouch. Another ability I possess is my selective deafness. I’m deaf to all good advice, such as ‘slip, slop, slap and wrap’ and ‘stay in the shade between 11am-4pm’ and all that. I don’t even put on sunscreen lotion (until after I’ve been burnt). I just make up my own rules as I go along. Not always a good idea, but hey, it makes life interesting (and occasionally, painful).

I’m not the best at learning from my mistakes, but here’s an attempt – note to self: never wear jewellery while sunbathing. It looks like I had my necklace tattooed in white around my neck. Aaargh.

Move along

Life

is

so

darn

sweeeet.

The last 24 hours have been rather amazing. Last night out on town was ah-mazing. Today was AMAZING. One word for it? Yeah, amazing.

Also, I now have beers in my fridge. Fuck yeah. Speights, at that. I am one VERY happy girl. AND a bottle of wine. AND a bottle of gin. Does life seriously get any better??

Oh, yeah – it was supposed to be raining all day today. Instead it’s been sunny for most of the day. Someone is definitely on my side.

I have a newfound love for Australians and football players. And cafès in Wellington. (That last one was a lie – I’ve always loved the cafès in Wellington.)

Now to cook dinner. Then I’m having a movie night with my bud. Rock on, world.

1/3 down

I have officially (and hopefully successfully/satisfactorily) completed my first year at university.

I spent nearly 6 hours on campus today. I sincerely hope that that’s not going to happen again fot at least another 3 months or so. I went to the library at noon to do some last-minute cramming with some friends, and we spent the next couple of hours having an awful good time, considering we were about to sit an exam. Which I reckon was the best preparation anyone could’ve asked for. It was also quite entertaining to watch as we one by one (myself included) took turns studying our notes for a few minutes before throwing our arms up into the air and declaring to the library at large that it was hopeless and that we would just have to make it up as we went along.

At 2.30pm the exam began. At 4pm, halfway through, two of my friends were done, and left. Half an hour later another one left, and I was the only one still sitting there out of our wee study group. I finally finished about 10 minutes before the time was up, and when it’s 15 minutes to go no one is allowed to leave, so I was forced to stay for an extra 10 minutes and had a quick second glance at what I’d written. Which, in hindsight, I suppose might have been a good thing.

When I was allowed to leave though, at 5.30pm, I was so happy I could have kissed everyone in my path (of course, I didn’t). Once outside, I sat straight down and felt the warm sun on my face and the wind in my hair, and I just couldn’t stop smiling. Free at last.

So I went home, got changed and went to the liquor store. Obviously. On my wee shopping list I had written ‘gin, lemons, and lemonade’. You smiling now? I know I am.

On my way back from the supermarket in town I stopped at a red light. (Everyone knows I’m a sworn pedestrian right? Good.) While I was standing there the cars coming from my right were turning into the road on my left-hand side, and when the second car was going slowly past, I accidentally caught the driver’s eye, and he stared at me, transfixed, and I stared back, and I saw him, quite clearly, utter the words ‘Fuck me’. Now how is one actually supposed to react to that?

If this was any other day, I would have been furious at being objectified like that, and probably felt compelled to give him the finger, but instead I just tilted my head a little and smiled resignedly at him while barely shaking my head. I saw him repeat the words, never breaking eye contact with me, and that, I must say, made me feel a little angry afterwards. Does it mean that he has absolutely no respect for women? This is where I’d like some opinions, please. Is it appropriate to feel flattered? Upset? Compelled to chase after the car, tear open his door and threaten to send your (imagined) boyfriend after him? Like I said: If this had happened on pretty much any other day, I would have hated it.

But at the time I’d just come out of a 3 hour long exam, my last one this year; I was carrying a newly purchased bottle of gin in my bag and the sun was shining. Let’s face it; I was happy to the point where I could have been walking through a blizzard and a wee sun still would have been shining above my head. Living in perfect bliss.

But yeah, curious though. How normal is it for a guy to be that “rude” to someone they see? And how should I feel about it?

 

And tonight? I’m going out to celebrate with friends, of course. It’s not every day you finish your first year at university.

The start of something new

So, I’m just sitting in my room procrastinating before I’m off to my second study group (aka “gossip central” as of now). Suddenly I decided to do a google search for blogs in Wellington to see if my blog would show up. The top result, however, was Victoria University’s student magazine, Salient. So I had a look at their page. And I’m glad I did. Their latest blog entry is entitled ‘Salient 2011. Has Editors. Needs Everything Else.’

Anyone remember how I said I’m going to join their crew to get some experience for my future temporary career as a journalist? Yeah, that’s still the plan. So I read the entry, and at the bottom it said ‘Expressions of interest by Wednesday the 3rd of Nov.’

Whoa, that’s tomorrow.

I immediately wrote an e-mail expressing my interest in helping out in any way I can. I can’t quite believe I made such a “bold” move just like that. Especially considering I wrote that I’d do pretty much anything for them. Ahem…

I never found my blog though, and now I’m curious to know whether anyone would ever find/read it if I didn’t advertise it on every other page I maintain on the World Wide Web.

Google works in mysterious ways.

Know your onion!

And God said: ‘Let there be madness.’ And there was exams.

Oh, sorry, did I get that wrong? From my point of view: No.

Fortunately, I’m not terribly affected by the pre-exam stress. Unless you count insomnia and fasting as symptoms, I’m doing pretty well.

I had my first study “group” today. Three of us girls got together in the library to study for the exam. So, naturally, we spent half an hour discussing the exam and four hours talking about boys. An afternoon well spent.

Spaghetti bolognese and a glass of wine goes a long way after a long day of – uh – gossiping. It’s such hard work.

Add music according to taste. Mix in someone to chat with on any kind of social media, and the night is almost complete. Casually round it all off with a couple of hours of studying, and you’ll avoid the madness.

(And if you happen to react to cutting onions like I do, pour a bucket of water over your face before you attempt to get any reading and/or note taking done.)

Fasting

Sick of living off mainly unhealthy food while studying, and without getting any exercise done due to time constraints, I decided to more or less abstain from food. It’s surprisingly easy. I just stay in bed most of the time, reading and taking notes, and have a few cups of coffee throughout the day. I usually have a couple of pieces of fruit as well. Then at night I have dinner before I go to bed. Simple, really.

Furthermore, “fasting” seems to make my mind more alert, for some reason. I can see everything more clearly now… And it’s so easy to buy healthy food. I went to buy some groceries today, stopping by the supermarket first, and I didn’t even feel tempted to buy any lollies/chocolate/chips; only picked up what I was after, went to the fruit and vege market and bought loads of apples, bananas, pears, carrots and other stuff to munch on.

Also, I didn’t get much sleep last night. Strangely I don’t feel or look tired today, but I think it’s affecting me in other ways, because I’m really pissed off with my flatmates who kept me awake for most of the night by having showers at 2am, slamming the doors, as well as having people come and go at the most incredible times (basically all night long), whom they then proceeded to have loud conversations with outside my room. Thanks, guys. Do it again and I’ll kill you. That’s roughly 4 hours of sleep in total for me over the past 48 hours. No wonder I’m feeling just a little tense.

Other than that, I’m more than ready to farewell October and welcome November, and with it, summer and four months of holidays, and all the time in the world to do all the things I want to get done in the near future. (Ooo, I just had an idea. I’ll write a list of what I’m planning on achieving over the summer holidays, and post it here.) Only three more days of studying ‘till I’m freeee! And no longer a first year university student!

Wait, what?

We’re celebrating Halloween tonight? Oh, well, I suppose my invitation to at least one of the hundreds of parties happening in Wellington right now just got lost in the mail… or cyberspace… or space…

No, who am I kidding? Since when have I ever been the one who gets invited to parties? Trust me, I got used to being left out a long time ago. (My near inability to make new friends is also to blame.) Besides, I’ve satisfied my brief want of society for today. I’m not the kind of person who goes to parties – I’m the kind of person who goes to the supermarket at 11pm to buy coffee – and that’s enough interaction with other people for me.

I get the weirdest urges when a stranger talks to me or looks at me when I’m in town. If they talk to me, depending on what they say, I usually ignore them or give them a vague smile or, if they ask me something, I shrug my shoulders and keep on walking. If they merely stare at me, I get a mad desire to punch them – especially if they give me one of those sleazy looks. I thought cynical me had been banished from my life, but apparently that part of me is alive and well and speaking and acting on my behalf whenever I’m around people I don’t know. It’s kind of frustrating how my claim that I’m a ‘recovering’ cynic seems to be a lie – I’m just a cynic. My recovery isn’t making any progress.

Also, I was (un)fortunate enough to walk past Public (my favourite pub on Courtenay Place) just as the rugby match between the All Blacks and the Wallabies was in its final minutes, so I stopped to watch the rest of it. The score was NZ 24 – AUS 19, and the Wallabies were pushing for a try, hovering very close to the dangerous line. The All Blacks kept holding them back – they entered injury time – and then, past fulltime, the Wallabies managed to break through NZ’s defense and score a final try, making the score 24-24; and with the successful conversion made afterwards, the final score was NZ 24 – AUS 26. Gutted. Here’s a report of the match.

I  can hear fireworks again. For real. I’m amazed, there’s nothing to celebrate tonight, is there?

Not amused

Really, I’m considering going back to Facebook. Not because I miss it or feel like I need to catch up with everyone. No, I need to find a way to temporarily stem this flow of creativity.

At the moment I come up with at least one original concept for a film every single day, each completely different from the other and with a complete story outline. Don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely thrilled to know that I can be this creative, but it has revealed itself to me at such a bad time! I’m desperately trying to read a couple of hundred pages of philosophy every day, and I CAN’T GET THE STORIES OUT OF MY HEAD. It’s infuriating. If only I could keep it all bottled up somehow for another 4 days, and then release it, I would be stuck by the computer writing steadily for a couple of months.

At the moment I’m reading “Imagination and the Aesthetic Appreciation of Nature” by Emily Brady, and I’ve just read 5 lines in a paragraph on the third page about 60 times while in my mind I’ve been developing the latest story that appeared out of nowhere. It became so distracting that I had to pull out a notebook and quickly write something down, because it was the only outlet I could think of. Two words: Bad idea. Now I really can’t stop thinking about it, even after I filled two pages in the notebook in the equal number of minutes.

I’m desperately trying to focus on reading about how and why we should (or should we?) aesthetically appreciate nature – and I do find it interesting, really – but my mind is like an explotion of ideas at the moment, and no matter how hard I try to rein it in, it’s not working. Knuckling my forehead doesn’t help. Music doesn’t help. Writing notes doesn’t help. Telling my brain to focus certainly doesn’t help. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!?

I do apologise for this seemingly desperate and slightly (OK, more than slightly) hysterical post, but I’m at a complete loss as to what to do. I cannot stress enough how important it is for me to study for this exam, and I’m quickly running out of time.

At least I know now that as long as I stay off Facebook, I’ll have no trouble making a living as a writer of some kind. The stories are coming at me at such an overwhelming rate it feels like I’m drowning in a world that isn’t even mine. I need a quiet place where it’s just me and something to write on/with, and I’ll produce anything you like. MY GOD, my head is about to explode.

Help.

Insomnia

Now I know what reading philosophy for 14 hours a day does to me. It prevents me from going to sleep.

By the time I finished the last reading yesterday I was ready to fall asleep. But no – instead, after I’d tucked myself in, I decided my brain needed something light to snack on to shut it down a bit. So I pulled out a Harry Potter book and began reading. I usually fall asleep after a couple of pages, but not last night. It was almost 2am when I started reading, and when I’d read one very long chapter it was nearly 3am, and I’d been nodding off quite a bit, so I figured all I had to do was turn my light off, roll over and sleep would come. Alas, no such thing occurred. I lay there for ages, turning over and over, mind spinning, eyes tired, body restless. In the end (what must have been after 5am) I just gave up and lay there, motionless, thinking about everything and nothing.

I must have dozed off at some point, but I’m well aware of how uneasy that ‘sleep’ was, and the next time I checked the time it was 8am, and my empathic flatmates were laughing, talking and playing music right outside my room. No point in trying to get some sleep then, in other words. I got up before 10am, feeling more like a zombie than I’ve ever done before an exam or an important essay is due, because on those occasions at least I tend to get a good 4 hours’ sleep.

If I were to look on the bright side of this, I’d say that it proves how alert my mind has become due to recent efforts to stir things up in the upper story. Now to try to find the median point, so that my brain actually takes a nightly break. Yeah, that’d be nice.

Carlson, Brady, Lessing, Stalnaker, Armstrong, Mill, Feinberg, Montague, Neill, Carroll, Hume…

In case Mill didn’t give it away; these are some of the philosophers whose ramblings I’m reading at the moment.

You might detect a slight resentment in that sentence. Allow me to say that you are correct if you think you do.

I wonder how I’m going to feel when I wake up tomorrow morning. Considering I only read one philosophical essay yesterday (John Stuart Mill’s “Of the Liberty of Thought and Discussion”), I was surprised to discover this morning the instant I tried to sit up in bed that I felt like I’d been poisoned or exposed to some other evil; the world was spinning faster than it has ever done while I’ve been under the influence of alcohol, and when I finally managed to stand up I crashed into every bit of furniture in my room in my attempt to get to the bathroom. (And of course I will attribute this weird physical state to having read philosophy.) As I stumblingly found my way back to bed, I was determined not to let the swaying sensation keep me from studying harder than ever before for my philosophy exam (which is next Wednesday), so I fell back into bed, pulled the covers up to my chin, picked up the course reader and continued reading (Edward Herman and Noam Chomsky’s “A Propaganda Model” this time – it’s not even a proper philosophical essay, just a bunch of numbers). My attempt was stymied, however, by a sudden attack of drowsiness – so I dozed off for a couple of hours, and when I finally woke with a jolt it was past midday. Sigh.

Anyway, the instant I awoke I continued my perusal, and I just kept reading and reading and reading throughout the day. I didn’t even stop for the customary meal breaks, meaning I read all day without a single bite of food – unless you count three cups of coffee with a ton of sugar as a nutritional substitute. I didn’t take a break until 7.30pm, when I went to the local fish ‘n chips shop and bought a hot-dog and some chips to take home. (Unfortunately it takes just long enough for the food to be prepared for me to walk down the road to the liquor store and buy a bottle of wine and walk back up to the fish ‘n chips shop in time to pick up the yumminess.) So I got home, and read another essay on freedom of speech and the free press. Damnit, I actually decided today (I swear it was peer pressure – those bloody philosophers) that I’m going to spend a couple of years as a journalist. I suppose that’s what I’ll do to pay back my student loan once I’m back in Norway after I’ve been deported…

Guess what, I’ve decided to join Victoria’s student magazine, Salient. It totally kicks ass, and I feel way more confident writing in English for a larger audience now (I mean, I got an A+ on an English essay this year – not to sing my own praises or anything) than I did at the start of the year. That’s going to help me get a job at a newspaper or magazine at some later point in life, I suppose. Plus, I love to write, so why not?

But I digress. Back to philosophy readings. My brain has turned to custard. Information overload. On several occasions today I found myself laughing at something the philosopher wrote (Feinberg is exceptionally funny), and now I’m worried about my sanity. Is the philosopher actually funny, or am I completely missing the point? Also, what I fear now is how I’m going to feel tomorrow morning, considering the amount of philosophical texts I’ve read over the past two days increased by 400% in a single day. If reading one essay makes me feel like I’ve been on a sea voyage for the last four months and only reached land yesterday, I’m scared to think what effect reading so many more essays today will have on me tomorrow…

But even all this mad studying has its silver linings. It allows me to crawl into my own world of solitude without feeling asocial. Yesterday I did what I said I’d do a couple of days ago; I packed up my philosophy course book and my notes, and went to the Wellington Botanic Gardens, where I have found ‘my’ spot, which is rarely disturbed by other people, plus it’s relatively sheltered from the wind but gets all-day sun. So I went there and lay in the sun for a couple of hours while going over my notes. Sa-weet as. Turns out tanning and studying aren’t as mutually exclusive as previously thought.

All the thinking has also stirred my brain from its slumber, and last night, while I was trying to go to sleep, I had the most important epiphany of my life. I suddenly had a pre-conceived idea for a short film in my head, and I knew straight away that that’s going to be my debut. It just clicked instantly – it is my film, my idea, which no one else has come up with, and which no one else is likely to copy, in fact. I’m so looking forward to the time after my exam next week, when I can finally sit down and write it out, and even create a storyboard; I know exactly how it’s going to look. What’s so brilliant about it is that it’s so simple; I can probably make it without any funding whatsoever, which means that it’s the best kind of short film to be making as my first. I’m so excited!

PS. Facebook, consider yourself no longer part of my life. This separation is good for us.

Victory!

 

It’s almost all I can say!

My brain is so befuddled with joy at the moment, I’m finding it exceedingly hard to express myself. THE HOBBIT WILL BE MADE IN NEW ZEALAND!!!

Of course, this is as it was always meant to be, but still! Lately I’ve had to deal with essays, exams, job applications, CV’s, illness, limited entry course applications and so on, and to top it off, the whole Hobbit ordeal, jeopardising the entire future of the NZ film industry which I’m hoping to one day be a part of. NOT COOL.

Then this.

Whoa, the relief is like a physical weight taken off my shoulders, leaving me with a sense of great exhaustion now that I realise how heavily it actually weighed me down. I’m so happy my head is spinning. I’ll blame this on fatigue, but I actually shed a few tears when I logged on to Twitter and my brain recorded the words ‘HOBBIT’ and ‘NZ’ in the same sentence along with a whole lot of exclamation marks, and I understood that it was carrying a positive message. Although I am tired beyond words right now, I wish I could go out into the streets of Wellington and drink and dance and sing all night long. I’m sure there will be plenty of other people celebrating tonight, but alas, I will have to postpone my celebration.

After a long and bumpy road to gain the green light, the Hobbit production is finally on its way. With Sir Peter Jackson as director, shooting will begin in February next year, right here in Middle-Earth.

Everything is as it should be…

Studying = Student dying

Yesterday I overdosed on coffee. Before you say ‘wait, is that even possible?’ I will assure you that it is. There’s this cool website that tells you everything you need to know about caffeine. Within the space of 4 hours, on an empty stomach, I consumed 5 or 6 cups of (very strong) coffee, and for 4 hours afterwards it felt like my head was hovering somewhere around Jupiter and I felt confident my bodily fluids were at least 95% caffeine and I couldn’t control my hands. Not to mention I felt sick and dizzy, and basically stumbled around the flat every time I had to get out of bed (where I was studying). It was awful. But necessary. You see, I stayed up quite  late on Monday night to finish my essay (I didn’t have to pull an all-nighter though; I was in bed by 3am), and then I had to get up early because the essay was due in before 10am, and I had to go to the library to print it out first. After that was done, I spent the rest of the day studying for my Media Studies exam, which I sat this morning (another early start; 9.30am). I struggled to keep my eyes open while studying for it, and when you’re extremely tired, haven’t had anything to eat and really like coffee, it’s rather easy to overdo it.
In the end I think I got a good 14 hours of studying done, which really helped. But what I was most impressed with is that I managed to stay off the computer basically all day, only starting it up after 9pm to do some PDF readings, and not spending any time on Twitter. Amazing! It proves that it’s doable.
I didn’t have a very good sleep last night, what with all the media terms racing through my head as well as a million other things. This morning before I went to sit my exam I had one (double shot) cup of coffee and a can of V and now, a mere 4 hours later, I’m already experiencing withdrawal symptoms because my caffeine consumption today is nowhere near as high as it was yesterday. I might try to go outside to escape the lure of the espresso machine; besides, it’s sunny and warm in the capital today, and a smell of summer is in the air (I mean that quite literally; I think it smells like the South Island in summer). It’s tempting to pack my Philosophy coursebook and just head over to the Botanic Gardens for a good afternoon nap…

The Battle for Middle-Earth

…is soon coming to a town near you.

I always get my priorities right. Really, what would you do: Stay at home and polish an essay that’s due in the next day, or spend 3 hours outside, surrounded by like-minded people, supporting a cause that means the world to you? OK, so maybe that was a little biased, but hey, I have to do something to make myself feel better for once again downgrading the importance of getting this essay right. (I think that’s a lost cause, though; that’s why I’ve stopped trying. Now I just want to hand it in.) At least I’m fully prepared for an all-nighter if need be (and I’m sure it’ll be necessary).

But that’s not the main issue today. I want to say something about the rallies that were arranged today to support filming of The Hobbit in New Zealand. I arrived in Civic Square about an hour early to secure a good spot, watching the people from Weta set up loudspeakers and TV screens etc. I had fun trying to recognise people, however it wasn’t until Gino Acevedo turned up that my heart skipped a beat; he works for Weta as a prosthetics supervisor and did a lot of the special effects on the LotR trilogy, and even got a cameo in The Return of the King as a pirate (on the right in the photo below). It was exhilarating seeing him in real life, after seeing him so many times on the behind-the-scenes footage from the extended versions of the LotR trilogy.

The second arrow points to Sir Richard Taylor; he runs Weta Workshop with his wife Tanya and is the creative supervisor. The biggest moment for me today was seeing him, as he talked to the crowd several times, reading a statement from Peter Jackson himself, as well as sharing some anecdotes from the production of The Lord of the Rings, making everyone laugh. Man, I love these people. Liz Mullane, the casting director on the Rings trilogy also spoke to the crowd, and shared a few of her own stories from behind the scenes, to highlight the way NZ pulled together to get the LotR trilogy made, and how they sometimes hit a few bumps along the way…

My heart swelled with pride and affection at seeing how much people in NZ care about their film industry. It was something special to hear stories from the making of the LotR from the people who were involved in it, even though it happened almost 10 years ago. It still means so much to them, and judging by the response their stories received, it still means just as much to everyone else.

After the last person had said their piece (there were several speakers, including the mayor of Wellington, several Weta workers and a couple of filmmakers), people released colourful balloons that had been handed out by the people who arranged the rally, and everyone was in a really cheerful mood. I very much wanted to say something to Richard Taylor, but didn’t know what, so I just went over to where he was standing, and snapped a couple of photos before I left…

For more photos from the rally, go to http://picasaweb.google.com/randikleppe90/HobbitRallyInWellington25101002?feat=directlink

Only bummer of the day was that I brought my video camera, thinking that it was fully charged, only to discover as I began filming that I had less than 10 minutes of battery life left… So I got about half of the mayor’s speech, and none of Taylor’s, Mullane’s and Acevedo’s anecdotes from the Rings days. Sad face. But at least I got to hear it in person, and to me, that beats nearly everything. Almost as good as being there myself (the filming of the LotR, that is).

Now I really need to finish the essay. All of a sudden it’s nearly 6pm. And I still don’t feel a panic attack coming on. How weird.

Hard at Work (Yeah, Right)

 

I’m still procrastinating. I’m a little pleased that I’m able to find other ways (besides Facebook) of procrastinating, though. I just tried this whole ‘enter-your-name-and-let-me-tell-you-everything-about-you’ thing, just for fun, and then I nearly choked on my wine when I read the result. It’s like reading my own thoughts out loud! Here’s what I got:

(leaving out my name for privacy reasons)

There are 30 letters in your name.
Those 30 letters total to 146
There are 10 vowels and 20 consonants in your name.
What your first name means:

Norse
Female
Lovely goddess.

Your number is: 11

The characteristics of #11 are: High spiritual plane, intuitive, illumination, idealist, a dreamer.

The expression or destiny for #11:
Your Expression number is 11. The number 11 is the first of the master numbers. It is associated with idealistic concepts and rather spiritual issues. Accordingly, it is a number with potentials that are somewhat more difficult to live up to. You have the capacity to be inspirational, and the ability to lead merely by your own example. An inborn inner strength and awareness can make you an excellent teacher, social worker, philosopher, or advisor. No matter what area of work you pursue, you are very aware and sensitive to the highest sense of your environment. Your intuition is very strong; in fact, many psychic people and those involved in occult studies have the number 11 expression. You possess a good mind with keen analytical ability. Because of this you can probably succeed in most lines of work, however, you will do better and be happier outside of the business world. Oddly enough, even here you generally succeed, owing to your often original and unusual approach. Nonetheless, you are more content working with your ideals, rather than dollars and cents.

The positive aspect of the number 11 expression is an always idealistic attitude. Your thinking is long term, and you are able to grasp the far-reaching effects of actions and plans. You are disappointed by the shortsighted views of many of your contemporaries. You are deeply concerned and supportive of art, music, or of beauty in any form.

The negative attitudes associated with the number 11 expression include a continuous sense of nervous tension; you may be too sensitive and temperamental. You tend to dream a lot and may be more of a dreamer than a doer. Fantasy and reality sometimes become intermingled and you are sometimes very impractical. You tend to want to spread the illumination of your knowledge to others irrespective of their desire or need.

Your Soul Urge number is: 5

A Soul Urge number of 5 means:
The 5 soul urge or motivation would like to follow a life of freedom, excitement, adventure and unexpected happening. The idea of travel and freedom to roam intrigues you. You are very much the adventurer at heart. Not particularly concerned about your future or about getting ahead, you can seem superficial and unmotivated.

In a positive sense, the energies of the number 5 make you very adaptable and versatile. You have a natural resourcefulness and enthusiasm that may mark you as a progressive with a good mind and active imagination. You seem to have a natural inclination to be a pace-setter. You are attracted to the unusual and the fast paced.

You may be overly restless and impatient at times. You may dislike the routine work that you are engaged in, and tend to jump from activity to activity, without ever finishing anything. You may have difficulty with responsibility. You don't want to be tied down to a relationship, and it may be hard to commit to one person.

---

http://www.paulsadowski.org/Numbers.asp – the website, if you want to have a go. Seriously, I’m a little freaked out now. But also pleased that my parents clearly gave me my right name.

 

On a side note, I have pretty much finished my film essay. At least I’ve finally cracked the 3,000 words mark – I’m now over the maximum limit, in fact. But I’ll do some pruning today and tomorrow. It’s easier to cut back on words than it is to conjure up new sentences…

Something I’m really looking forward to tomorrow though is going to the rally to support filming of The Hobbit in New Zealand. Hoping to catch a glimpse of some of them Weta people…

I thought I just heard some fireworks go off down the road. Hmm, am I hearing things? Too much wine, perhaps.

A Simple Life

 

Disclaimer: This has absolutely NOTHING to do with Paris Hilton or Nicole Richie.

At 8pm last night I deactivated my Facebook account. As the final moment drew closer, I was in anguish. Have you heard about the scene in the new film 127 Hours by Danny Boyle (out in November 2010), based on the true story of Aron Ralston, where the mountaineer’s arm gets stuck under a boulder, and he cuts it off to save his life? Yeah, that’s how I felt as the time to click the ‘deactivate’ button approached, and I realised that it was going to be a relief to get it over with. Especially because I was silly enough to let the tension build up for a good 36 hours beforehand. I took a long, hard look at myself then, and saw how pathetic it was of me to feel so connected to a website. It shouldn’t control my life, yet it does. Or, no, it did. At 8pm I vanished from Facebook, and at that very instant I felt more free than I have done in years.

Originally the plan was to get straight into my final film essay once I’d abandoned Facebook, but then one of my friends offered to come round to my place to watch a movie, and of course I felt like I deserved that, so I agreed. Funnily enough, we ended up watching Into the Wild (one of my favourite movies). So if I’d been feeling a bit sad about amputating a good 50% of my online presence, that feeling changed over the course of the evening, into that of shame; shame at thinking that what I’d done was something extraordinary, when this guy, Christopher McCandless, aka Alexander Supertramp, gave up everything to live a more simple life. Every time I watch that movie I feel so inspired to go and do the same thing; just give away my money, burn my ID papers, strap on some good tramping boots and a backpack and just go for it. I’ve always had a desire in me, deep down, to do just that, and watching that movie brings those feelings to the surface, making me want to leave on the spot. I’m not the biggest fan of society, I’ll tell you that. To quote the amazing Lord Byron: “I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.”

Of course, today I was expecting to be madly wanting to check my Facebook profile, but so far whenever the thought even just pops into my head I think about all the things I want to achieve in the near future (especially passing my exams, which demands a fair bit of studying beforehand on my part), and the knowledge that Facebook would distract me from achieving those goals makes me a little furious and strengthens my determination to place all thought of Facebook in a tiny, dark space at the back of my mind and throw away the key. (Wow. Long sentence.) The only thing I’m struggling with is finding other ways to procrastinate when I need 5 minutes to consider what more I’m going to say in my essay. So, as you can see, the lack of Facebook is doing me nothing but good.

Being Saturday, I also have a wine glass and a bottle of wine (Chardonnay, today) standing next to my laptop, on call to be opened after 5pm (I’m practicing self-control – so far this week I have failed miserably every day). Not that there’s anything wrong with drinking – to quote my man Lord Byron again: “Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; the best of life is but intoxication.” (My only concern is the cost of it.) Also, to justify writing essays under the influence of alcohol, here are a few well-chosen words, from the great Ernest Hemingway: "Write drunk; edit sober." Wise man.

I must say I really am enjoying the Facebook-free day I’ve had so far. It’s forcing me to look elsewhere when I want something “fun” to do, thus causing me to think creatively once more. And lo and behold, there’s another blog entry being written. Not to mention that I’ve written a lot more on my essay. Feeling just a little cut off from the rest of the world feels, in a single word, great.

“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods;
There is a rapture on the lonely shore;
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar;
I love not man the less, but Nature more…”

- Lord Byron

The clarity of seeing

 

Lately I’ve been doing a bit of soul-searching. And boy, have the epiphanies come falling at me like sweet, sweet rain after months of draught. This came about as a result of me feeling a bit lonely and ‘superfluous’, if you like. I wanted affection, unconstrained, of the kind reserved for that one special person. Or so I thought. After fooling myself with these thoughts for some time, I suddenly realised that I was wrong. Wanting something like that – that’s not me. That’s who society tells me I should be. Me – I want freedom; to chase across those green pastures, wind in my hair, a smile on my face. No sorrows, no worries, no attachments – just an abundance of life.

I realised that the only person whose company I will ever truly treasure is my own, and now is most likely the best time for me to enjoy that. I’m not saying that I will necessarily change as I grow older, but let’s face it; the possibility exists that somebody, someday, might want to constrain my freedom and have my wild personality around at all times. So I really ought to make the most out of this opportunity to be utterly selfish and do only what I think will be good for me, and not have to worry about the effects my actions can have on people that are close to me. Because there won’t be any. And this is what I want.

I discovered that I can have whatever I want. The snobbishness of that sentence is likely to make everyone who reads it reel backwards and call me a haughty bitch, but that’s okay. Nothing comes for free, and I put every ounce of effort I’ve got into achieving my goals. No one has ever been allowed to tell me what I can or can’t do; only I get to do that. And I say, reach for the stars, but bring a big fucking ladder if you want to entertain even the slightest hope of getting there. I think the fact that I’ve only ever really had myself to think about is what has led me this far, and that’s exactly what’s going to take me even further. I don’t want to share my life with anyone else, I’m too preoccupied at the moment; chasing after the arrows I shoot in front of me. Sure, I might get sidetracked from time to time, but I’m mainly on a steady course, and I know what I want.

Another thing that came to me is that the reason why I’m still in this position where it’s just me, living in my own world free of boundaries, possibly stems from the fact that despite me thinking that I wanted to be with someone, and have been searching for that right person, deep down I knew that it wasn’t what I really wanted, so it never happened. I believe in fate, and I find it fascinating how people just seem to appear in my life at times when I need them the most, change my life in some way, and then just as often disappear again. It’s funny, I always thought people exploited me – now that I think about it, maybe I’m the one exploiting other people. I should fit straight in with the people in the film industry, then.

Opting out

 

A couple of days ago I was asked by the editor of the local newspaper in my home town back in Norway to participate as a blogger on their new website due to be launched in a couple of weeks’ time, and I’m absolutely thrilled to say that I agreed to do it. I’m not yet sure exactly what it involves, all I know is that I’ll be sharing the task with 7 other people, each posting once every 8 weeks. Another blog to maintain, excellent. That ought to get my creative juices flowing.

Speaking of, I have a theory that Facebook kills my creativity. Lately I’ve been trying to study for my exams, so naturally I have spent a good 18 hours every day procrastinating on Facebook. And in less than two weeks my exams will be over, so I’ll go back to spending on average 8-10 hours a day on Facebook again. This has got to stop. So today I made an executive decision to deactivate my Facebook account for an uncertain period of time – all I know is that I will not activate it again until after my exams are over. If I’m past the sweaty palms and fevered dreams stage due to my abstinence from Facebook at this point, I will consider extending my absence indefinitely, to see if this will increase my attention to various creative projects I have started but not made any progress on lately.

This desire to be creative (and thus, to do something to make it happen) has been greatly spurred on over the last few days by the drama surrounding the production of The Hobbit, with the latest reports saying that Warner Brothers have decided to move the production offshore. Apparently they want to shoot it in a studio in England, where they shot Harry Potter. I am simply outraged by this development. Ever since I first heard that The Hobbit was going to be made into a film I’ve had mixed feelings about it, because ever since I first read the book, I’ve wanted to be involved in the making of the film version (preferably I would be the one making it). So at first I was against Sir Peter Jackson directing it. Then they announced that Guillermo del Toro would be the director, and I decided that I’d rather have PJ direct to keep things consistent with the mood and feeling of the LotR trilogy. Then GDT dropped out, and the whole thing was stuck in limbo for a while. It hadn’t been greenlit, the studio was bankrupt, there was no director – the problems seemed to be neverending, and the film destined not to be made. Then, just as we heard words of progress, some Australian douchebag union decided to royally fuck things up. There was a boycott of the film, demonstrations, marches, secret meetings, press statements, verbal abuse, anxiety, still no green light – and all of a sudden came the press release from the studios that the film had been greenlit, PJ would direct, and shooting would commence in February 2011. But wait… There was nothing about where it would be shot.

The fight instantly on between a handful of countries all wanting not just a slice of the cake but the whole goddamn thing, The Hobbit seemed set to be pried from the shores of Aotearoa. Tax breaks, cheap labour, no Australian unions – England, Scotland, Canada and several Eastern European countries all put their offers on the table, and Warner Brothers took the bait. According to the newspapers today, representatives are coming down to New Zealand next week to arrange the moving of the production offshore. After all this time, New Zealand is set to lose one of the bound to be biggest franchises of the next decade.

One of the main reasons I decided to study in Wellington was that The Hobbit was supposed to be made in Wellington during my stay here (originally there were reports that shooting would commence in March this year, but we all know that never happened), and now that is no longer the case, and the long-term effects of this move is likely to more or less shut down the smaller film industry in Wellington, I see no future for me here. Maybe I should transfer to London? I hear they make some films over there…

Happy Birthday, Darling

We love you very, very, very, very, very, very, very much. <3

I would like to dedicate this blog entry to my best friend, who turns 20 today, on October 1. 3x HURRAH for her, she’s amazing! That’s her on the right, by the way. I hope she has the most amazing day of her life, and gets lots and lots of fun presents (hopefully she likes what I got for her) and eats too much yummy food (and drinks too much alcohol?).

I just want to let you know that I miss your company so much, and every time I find a new spot in Wellington or do something by myself, I wish that you were still here so that I could share those moments and experiences with you. You are an incredible person, and you mean so much to me!

Wishing you all the best for the coming year – and just keep in mind that if all goes according to plan, I’ll be seeing you again in approximately 9 months, which isn’t such an awfully long time after all.

Love and miss you,

xxx

A Fruity Obsession

I just woke up one day and wanted some fruit…

Lately I’ve been buying quite a bit of fruit every time I do my grocery shopping. And it keeps getting worse (or better, either way you like it). Earlier this year I attempted to become healthier by buying less chocolate, chips, and so on, but I soon went back to buying it (in larger quantities), mainly because I didn’t buy any substitutes to nibble on every time I felt peckish. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I went completely overboard and bought so much chocolate I won’t say just how much it was, and subsequently ate it all over a period of 4 days. So I felt bad about it. And started buying fruit instead. Now I have a constant supply of apples, pears, mandarins, oranges, bananas; last week I even came home with two eggplants (squash), an onion, a lemon, capsicum, salad – to use in cooking/lunches. I mean, come on – onions?! Since when did I start eating onions? I’ve hated them all my life! But I used it in a meal, and it tasted delicious.

I also keep making epic (and healthy) lunches:

This looked so good it was almost a shame to eat it, but I couldn’t not eat it, because it looked so good. And it was.

It’s been a very rainy day here today, and I feel all moist, but in a good way. I think it’s finally easing now, and it’s supposedly going to be sunny and warm for the next week or so.

Also, a quick newsflash: I don’t know how much the rest of the world is actually hearing about the Hobbit and PJ vs. actors drama currently unfolding here in NZ, but down here it’s on the front page basically every day now (today’s headline reads: ‘Nats [Nationals, ed.] take up arms for [Peter] Jackson’). A fantastic blog entry by up-and-coming Wellington film maker Chaz Harris sums up the main points of the dispute so far, and thankfully he shares my exact view on the situation, so please have a read of it if you like. PJ is not the villain in this scenario.

That is all. (For now.)

Well that went just like clockwork!

I won! My Alex DeLarge outfit won first prize in my film class’ dress-up do today. It was so cool wearing it to uni, I felt pretty awesome. Several people told me it was a cool costume as we waited outside the lecture theatre, and I actually started singing ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ in the foyer… Not in a shy mood today, in other words. Or maybe I actually adopted Alex’ buoyant behaviour as well as his clothes.

The people who had dressed up had to go up on stage and introduce themselves one by one, and when it was my turn I held up my glass milk bottle and said, after I’d said I was Alex from A Clockwork Orange, that ‘I’ve even got my milk!’. One of the tutors then repeated our “names”, and whoever got the loudest applause would win. Guess who was very pleasantly surprised when the tutor said my name and the whole room erupted with applause and cheers, after very polite applause for the people before me. There were a few other people whom I thought might beat me, but according to the tutor, after everyone had had their round of applause, it was pretty clear to him who the winner was: Alex from A Clockwork Orange! What a great feeling it was to hear those words. I made a few bows and spectacular movements, in line with Alex’s strange behaviour.

First prize was two movie passes, so now I have to choose what to do with the second one – be selfish and go to the movies twice, by myself, or go with someone and treat them to a free screening? The second one is more tempting, but then the question remains; who shall I share it with?

See any resemblance? (The lecturer and the tutors took heaps of photos in the lecture today, so if/when they post them online I will post them on my blog, so you can see what other costumes I was up against.)

I spent the rest of the afternoon running around town getting my grocery shopping done, battling the ferocious wind all the time. When I finally got home it was almost tea-time, and after some time trying to decide what to make (I bought lots of yummy foods today) I finally decided on burgers. (Mmmm burgers.) I haven’t had a burger that didn’t come from McDonald’s or Burger King in at least a year (or maybe like 10 months).

They were sooo darn good. (I was starving when making dinner, hence the large number of burgers. I was close to vomiting when I forced down the last bite.)

Now I’m about to have a shower, a glass of gin and tonic, and then set out for town to see what it’s like. Friday night, wooo!

Dress-ups and presentations

Today I finally completed my Mdia102 response paper, which included a 700-800-word essay and leading a group discussion in this week’s tutorial, about the readings and the essay topic. Funnily enough, I wasn’t a bit nervous before the tutorial, and I think it went pretty well. I’m hoping it did, anyway.

After uni I went to town (for the first time in about a week, it was great!) – the sun was shining, and I was wearing a dress because it was so nice and warm. I got several compliments for it, from strangers as well as from people I know, which made me smile even wider at everyone I met. (Just for the record, here’s a picture of me wearing the same dress in January this year:)

The reason I was going to town was that I was looking for stuff I need for this dress-up thing we’re doing in my film class tomorrow, where we are supposed to dress up as our favourite celebrity, movie character or something like that. So I’ve decided to dress up as Alexander DeLarge (Alex) from Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange, because I find that character so fascinating. Plus I really love his outfit, and have been wanting to dress up like him for some time, but didn’t really have a reason to do so until now. There will be prizes – I really want to win!

Pretty cool, huh?

I went to several shops around town; the $2 shop, various second-hand shops and other cheap places, but everything was either not quite right or too expensive for something I’d probably only wear once, so I went to a costume place our lecturer had told us about, and they fitted me with the costume seen above (my shoes) for only $35 – I would very much like to keep the hat! I even bought fake eyelashes to wear on one eye… That’s what I call dedication!

Malcolm McDowell’s Alexander DeLarge is like Heath Ledger’s The Joker of the 1970’s – frightening; charismatic and crazy; but we still love the characters.

I also went to the supermarket, where I happened to come across a ONE News cameraman and a TV presenter hard at work in one of the aisles, and I just had to walk past them while they were filming, so somewhere in the NZ news world I will be shown on a screen, most likely tonight (I’ve been trying to locate the clip online, but so far I’ve been unsuccessful). I swear those cameras are following me…

Btw does anyone else notice how much better I’ve become at posing in front of a camera? Just thought I’d randomly throw that out there.

Crash and Burn

My least favourite way to spend a Sunday: Hungover and trying to write 1,000 words and thus finish my very important film essay. Yet that is what I have subjected myself to today. The half-finished essay can only be blamed on considerable amounts of time spent procrastinating, and the hangover can be blamed on a very foolish decision made last night, concerning a bottle of wine and some gin & tonic.

Waking up this morning was not in any way pleasant; although now, several hours later, when the hangover has subsided a little bit, I can see the humour in it. My flatmates woke me up with their usual noise, and trying not to think about how late it was bound to be, I checked the time, only to discover that it was 8:30am. Great. I’d had about 5 hours of sleep. So I got out of bed, dressed myself and stumbled out to the kitchen. There, I proceeded to make an epic breakfast, which consisted of a huge omelette, lots of toast and numerous glasses of juice. I brought the omelette back to bed with me, checked facebook, ate about 3/4 of the omelette, and went back to sleep. The next time I woke up it was 11:45am. Much better.

Since then, I’ve been drinking everything I could think of that could make me feel better; suffered a severe attack of chocolate craving; peeled an orange for the first time in years and remembered why I stopped doing that (about half the orange is now strewn all over my room); sat on my bed, back against the wall, staring at the opposite wall trying to make it stop spinning; taken deep, meditative breaths to try to control my body’s desire to vomit; and repeatedly told myself how stupid I was for drinking at all last night, when I knew that I had to finish my essay today.

I think about 95% of my brain is temporarily out of service, and I’m finding it extremely hard to write even a simple sentence. Certain words, images, even sounds, make me feel all queasy, so I’ve had a real struggle all day trying to find music that I can listen to without getting that gagging feeling. I had to unfollow someone on Twitter because he used the word ‘lol’ (blah, there it happened again) in all his tweets, which are numerous – and I can’t handle that word today.

About an hour ago I was finally beginning to feel better (at least the world wasn’t spinning as badly anymore), and then I went to the fridge and ate three crumpets. Now I feel sick again. What to do? I’ve tried like everything that has ever worked for me in the past against hangovers, but it’s just not working today. And I still have to write 1,000 words on my essay before I can go to bed tonight. Jolly good.

I swear I’m never drinking again (at least not when I know I have a really important essay due on the Monday after).

Silly, silly bugger.

Perhaps I’ve been reading too much Plato

First of all: Yes, I’m still alive. I survived the (whatever-it-was) infection and, even more impressive, the antibiotics treatment. I swear I’m still feeling groggy and a little nauseous from taking those pills. Other than that, I’m fine.

Now to what I want to discuss in this blog entry – I have some pretty far out notions about the way things happen in life, and let me just warn you now, that if you have a restricted imagination, you might as well stop reading here.

For those of you who are as open-minded as me, I would like to invite you on a short journey through my beliefs, paying particular attention to fate. I strongly believe that things happen for a reason, and that some things are simply inevitable. They are just meant to happen. Such was the case with me ending up in New Zealand. There was definitely a force beyond my control that led me to this marvellous country. Despite all the things I thought about prior to leaving, about how scary it would be; how difficult to be financially independent in another country, on a different continent, on the other side of the world; how I would miss people and the familiarity of Norway, and so on - there was nothing that could hold me back. And you know, it was only ever NZ I had my mind set on. Nowhere else. After my first stay in NZ my life had changed for good, there is no denying that. I had turned onto a new path, one that would see me return to Aotearoa 18 months later, and after I’ve been here for another 8 months I have not regretted coming back once.

What made me think about fate today was a funny episode that took place when I went to the supermarket this afternoon. For the first time in about a month I went to Pak’n’Save, which lies in a suburb of Wellington called Kilbirnie. To get there I have to catch the bus, which takes almost half an hour; that’s why I don’t go there very often (only when I have lots to buy, because it’s the cheapest place).

So I’m at Pak’n’Save, just strolling down between the aisles, when all of a sudden this guy I’m walking towards looks up from his trolley and catches my eye - so I smile at him, and he smiles back at me, and then he says ‘Oh, hi! How are you!’ Completely taken by surprise by this friendliness, I manage to say ‘I’m good, thanks, how are you..?’ He then realises that I actually don’t know who he is, and lets me know that we met last Saturday when we were both out on town, and I remember (after all, I was completely sober that night, whereas he was, as he told me today, ‘absolutely trolleyed’). He was really nice, though, and gave me his number and all. When I met him at the supermarket he apologised for the way he behaved last weekend, but really he was one of the few decent (drunk) guys I’ve talked to out on town on a Saturday night. So we chatted for a bit, and then we kept walking in different directions (although when I turned into the next aisle he was walking down it in the opposite direction, so we had to pass each other again. Awkward.).

Anyway, the point is that I have this (undesirable?) ability to read way too much into these sorts of incidents. Chance meetings, you know. Why do they happen? Has fate got something more in store for us? I realised just the other week that I believe that if something is meant to happen between two people who (may or may not) like each other, then fate will make sure that they meet, to make them realise what they want. The funny thing is that I was kind and gave this guy my number last Saturday as well, because he suggested having a coffee one day, and I (almost) never pass up on an offer of coffee, but nearly a week later I still hadn’t heard from him. And then I just randomly run into him at a supermarket I almost never go to, and he remembers me.

What made this whole event that much more intriguing is the fact that it’s the second time something like this (a chance meeting) has happened to me in two weeks. A fortnight ago I was out on town to watch a rugby match and a football game, and hoping to meet someone (not anyone, someone as in a specific person) afterwards. That person kind of got stuck somewhere on the way, so after a lot of waiting I joined a group of people at a pub, and decided to go with them when they went to another place. Guess who I just happened to run into on the way, in the middle of a crowded sidewalk? You got it, the person I’d been waiting for all night. You need to be able to imagine the overpopulated streets of Wellington on a Saturday night, especially after two wins by NZ sports teams on the very same night, to be able to fully appreciate the awesomeness of running into the one person you wanted to see, but had given up on. It’s true what they say; as soon as you stop looking for what you want, it finds you.

So if I had any participating readers, I guess this is where I would ask for your advice and comments and thoughts, but seeing as I don’t, I’ll restrain myself from doing that. Instead, I will apologise for the lack of introducing other beliefs I hold about how and why things happen, as it’s getting really late and I haven’t actually thought about anything else to write about than fate, so I’ll leave that for another time and place.

Maybe I’ll read a bit more of Plato’s ‘Timaeus’ (that’s where the original account of the legend of Atlantis comes from, for those uneducated souls out there who didn’t already know that) before I go to sleep (that’s bound to put me to sleep straight away). Actually, I quite enjoy it. It’s ironic, isn’t it, how I despise my philosophy course but read Plato for fun.

 

“Let us stay up all night and watch the stars fall down around us;

as the world breaks we shall dance in the golden showers, invincible.”