One morning in February I had just got out of bed, my alarm failed to go off that morning and I was meant to meet my Boyfriend at our favourite coffee haunt in the centre of Christchurch where we both live. I called him "Honey I'm so sorry I'm late, I will be there, gimme an hour ok?", He was there already waiting for me, and as usual he was his sweet self and told me not to worry as he was deep into a book anyway so to take my time. I went to change in my room at our 100 year old flat. Then I heard a loud rumble and all of a sudden things started falling.
One thing that really gets me angry is when other people try to tell you how to live your life, especially when you are just plodding along harmlessly, not entirely in the mainstream and so it is decided that there is either a) something wrong with you mentally or b) you are some rebellious naive young girl who will eventually grow to love the white picket fence.
Wow it has been a while.
What I want to know is who invented this grand scale of social achievement which really, I must say, does nothing for me.
Excuse the short sabbatical. My mental health has not been fantastic, which unfortunatly has meant a few hospital over nighter's. One thing I have noticed when I am really not feeling like myself is that other peoples realities seem to jump out at you a whole lot clearer. Which makes for not only some interestingly sleepless nights but for a lot of summarising of what exactly I want/do not ever want in my life. So without further rambling, here is that list:
I DO want:
-To live in a place where i am safe and secure (at least most of the time)
We are the snails,
Slow in our approach, hindered by such a weight upon our shoulders.
Predators swoop upon us as we retreat inside our shells, silence, darkness, and for this we are labelled obedient.
Or perhaps we are the spiders silently twisting up and down a flimsy thread; foolishly hoping those we lust after will become tangled in our web, and for this we are labelled delicate.
Could we be the fantails? Beautifully formed, flitting graceful in and out of sight, watching, and adored for our beauty not our song.
Maybe we are the lizards, shrugging off old skin tempted by a new life, abandoning our memories of a harsh dry existence.
I have been staring at this page all day, writing and erasing, it seems that I just don't have many words today, so I will keep this short...
It is pretty sad when a (male) teacher stands in front of a class of 120 people and tells us that we women should feel so lucky that we are no longer second class citizens. We still are, and itâ€™s still shitty. Oh shit, I actually vocalised that and now everyone is staring. Well fuck it, we are. Yeah I can get an education, but I have to make grades that are SO much better than the male students in my class so that when we both show up to a job interview they might even consider hiring me over him, but in this country, itâ€™s unlikely. I might have a job, a job working behind a bar where I serve idiots who drive trucks that are too big for their families, donâ€™t give a shit about the environment and think I should feel privileged that they even bother to pinch my ass every time I walk by. Sure I have the vote, but most of the time there are no women to vote for in the election now that we have lost (my dearly beloved!) Helen Clark. I can play sport but I canâ€™t watch Women play it on television if there is menâ€™s sport on which takes preference over it immediately. I donâ€™t have to marry and have children but when I seek out healthcare such as asking for a hysterectomy due to chronic pain, I am denied because I am apparently giving up a womb that the world still might want to use.
I saw a show today where someone said that perfection is only measured within a frame of imperfection, and it made me think. I have recently started on a journey of trying to do a little more for myself, more counselling, more painting, more things to throw me off this path of dwelling on every little thing that has happened to me in the last decade, and I gotta tell you, itâ€™s hard. Itâ€™s easy for me to blend in with the crowd and be the party girl, thatâ€™s what they call me, â€œtheyâ€ being my friends, the people I work with, people at school. I am the girl who turns up to a test rottenly hung over and gets an A, and they all say they wish they could do that, but I wish for nothing more than to be able to turn up to a test without having to get drunk the night before because I am terrified that I wont get a perfect score. Somewhere over the years I have equated getting anything less than the â€œperfectâ€ score as my abuser having some kind of control over that.
September is here, and that means it is spring time in New Zealand. I have not really spent much time in New Zealand over the last two years, and as much as I have tried to resist enjoying my time here, with the changing season I have also noticed myself starting to refer to it as home once again. Each day I have spent here since being back from overseas I have been making an effort to reconnect with this country and the people here who I left without looking back two years ago, especially the Women in my life.
When I left high school I made the mistake of moving out of home and finding a place with my best friend and her boyfriend. This may sound nice, but I now understand why people often tell you not to move in with friends, but that is a story for another day. Leaving home however was fantastic. I worked at the market everyday after school to save up enough cash to get out of the town I lived in and move myself into the city, hoping to disappear into a new life there but I guess the tides donâ€™t change that fast, and I quickly found myself completely isolated, even though I was surrounded by thousands of people. So I left and went overseas.
I am currently in the midst of assignment madness at school, but wanted to pop in here to share a recent experience which I found quite interesting...
I have recently discovered that ex boyfriends sending you the lyrics to "Nothing compares to you" is just creepy, and a bit screwed up. Especially when you have a) have not seen the dude for a good 2 years (emphasis on GOOD), and b) I would rather stick my hand in a blender than revisit our relationship. This may sound harsh, but I am just way past being with someone simply because I am alone, I don't need a guy/girl in my life to complete it.
I'm sorry if this post is a bit personal, but it has been swirling in my head for weeks now, and is part of why I have been MIA, so here it is:
My big brother and I have always been good friends, despite what stood between us, namely our parents, and the fact that most of my life he lived at my Dad's house with my older sister and I lived with Our Mum. He is only three years older than me, so being so close in age we were always pretty close and I spent much of my childhood following behind him begging him to let me play (which now I realise must have been highly annoying, but what are younger sisters for?).
So here's the thing... I have just entered into a new relationship with a guy I have known for a long time, a good friend of mine who I lost touch with for a few years and just met up with again recently. It is good, for once, it is really good. We get along great and all, and things have been going at the right pace for me and he is respectful of that... the problem is he is going to want to know why I am the way I am... e.g. abuse issues. I donâ€™t want to talk to him about it. It is so not that I donâ€™t trust him, because I really do, but every time I have done this with a guy in the past he has either been really put off by it, or he has started to abuse me just the same way as if thatâ€™s like a free pass to do so.
I am still alive, don't worry! Somehow I managed to survive the end of semester exams with my sanity in tact, and am feeling mighty glad they are finished but not so confident in the results! Oh well.
So here is the story with the whole Women's rep thing at school... They asked me to come back and do it, because a). they figured out that they HAD to have at least one Woman on the executive and b). the guys on the executive apparently can't handle it alone (haha is all I have to say!). So I am thinking about it, but here is the thing, and yes this is pretty pathetic of me, but the guys on the actual executive who are there already don't want a girl involved. I know, so screw them, but with all that is going on, as much as I desperatly want to go in there and show them I also do not feel like being in yet another toxic environment at a place I usually love going and find a lot of solice there.
I don't know how it ended up this way.
I have stamps in my passport I don't remember... I went to Seattle more than once? I am just a small town New Zealand girl; we are not supposed to go anywhere. We are supposed to marry some so and so from the fire service and have kids and work twice a week in the bowling club so that the eighty year old residents of the town have something to cling to during the winter.
I have a big backpack that sits in the corner of my room all year round staring me in the face. I donâ€™t have an apron or the "what to expect when you are expecting" book. I donâ€™t want to trade my stethoscope for a bib and a yearâ€™s supply of diapers. I donâ€™t need to be in some meaningless marriage. I donâ€™t need props for having dinner on the table when some husband comes home from work. I want to work. I want to burn stuff because I can't cook and I want to live on noodles and rum, as though I am 20 forever.