Due to the average human being's need for change once in a while, this blog has now moved here. The Life & Times of a Half-Caste Kid has run it's course and since this blogger has moved onto bigger and better things, it's only appropriate that the blog does too. Don't stress, all the old posts have been exported there too, I have simply experienced a change in direction with this collection of stories, thoughts and general bullshit. Follow the Half-Caste Kid as she continues her journey as 'Tea, Cardigans & My Foul Mouth'. Don't forget to sign up as a follower if you want to continue listening to what I'm listening to, pose as 'The Thinker' when I try to get philosophical on your asses and laugh at my misfortune. Please, sign up as a follower, lol, I need you!
Hope to see you there.
Peace, bitches.
P.s. I'm not trying to get all Melbourne-alty on you guys with this new shiet. See below.
They're all tangled in ladies of black skies posing blue/
Cannot get enough of this song at the moment. If Ed Solo’s 'Life Gets Better' made me feel good, this one makes me feel tumeke. Definitely my feel good jam over the past two weeks. It reminds me of a 60’s girl group kind of song with a 21st century twist. Favourite line is about fake asses. You said it Kimbra.
Kimbra’s heavily influenced by artists like Nina Simone, who shaped the jazz scene, and much of the music industry in my opinion, and it really shows through her music. The tone of her voice is amazing – she plays on her jazzy voice, soft smokey voice and can belt a couply notes out too. She writes most of her own music, and again, her blues and jazz influences are recognisable in the choice of instruments she uses - groovy basslines (please be a double bass), brass fanfare moments, and a predominant jazzy hi-hat drum beat on top. But then all twisted into a nearly pop-reminiscent song - her writing technique is ridiculously unique. She performs live with a band, and although I’m sure there are some electronic sounds used in the recordings of her songs, a lot of it is simply her and the band. Kimbra’s dedication to performing live whenever she can is something she’s pin-pointed and mastered as an artist. She says her main focus and goal is to perform live as much as possible, and although much of this is to promote the album, I think she personally wants to target that particular area of the music industry – because she is so good at it. Watching Kimbra’s live or unplugged videos on YouTube is unbelievable, she can sing way beyond the recording studio, and what a performer she is. There aren’t many artists who have fine tuned the art of performing live, and for a 21-year-old, she is well beyond her years. There’s nothing better than seeing one of your favourite artists perform just as well, live. For me, it confirms your love for them. Knowing that they can take their music beyond the security of a recording studio, bring it to an audience, however big or small, and nail it, shows that they’re legit. I’ll always remember seeing Rihanna perform at her first MTV Music Awards, on TV of course, and thinking how horrible she sounded. She did. Don’t get me wrong, she’s improved immensely since then, but it just made me think how many of her recorded songs were legitimately her, stripped, I guess you'd say.
Loving this video clip! It’s bright and quirky, and after finding out the story behind the song, they connect perfectly. The song is about a man who has become detached, as such, from the world, and Kimbra tries to draw him back to her. She sells her music well, connecting her songs to the video clips – as a package almost. 'Settle Down' does the same thing with it’s video clip. For some reason, not all songs do that with their videos, seems odd really. But Kimbra does it flawlessly!
I have a big thing about sell-outs. Don’t get me started on Jessie J. My debating skills on this front are average to poor, because both ends of the argument make sense to some point, but there is just something about an artist catering to the scene or industry, when it’s not in them. I have heard the opinion that maybe artists want to sell out as quickly as possible to get dirty rich and famous, then set out to make the music they wanted to in the beginning, after they’ve made a mark with the crap the industry wanted at the time. It makes sense somehow, but a real artist who is truly passionate about what they do, would surely want to use the music they’re so passionate about in the first place, to pull an audience and of course, the money – wouldn’t they? I don’t know, I’m not an aspiring artist, but that’s how I see it. Kimbra is an ideal example of an artist who is far from a sell out. I’ve followed her limply, from when I was 17 at school, and she has seldom changed, apart from grown up. She set out from the beginning, with her own style of music, with her own personality and quirk, and has pretty much cracked it, or at least is well on her way to doing so (in my uneducated opinion of course).
6-year-old Jeremiah asked me something other than, "Do you wanna watch Rio with me?" tonight at the dinner table. It caught me off guard. I couldn't give him a straight answer. I joked with him, his mother, my sister and new brother-in-law. I asked him the same question in return, and he genuinely thought about it for a sec, then his face lit up as he replied, "A zoo-keeper."
"What do you want to be when you're old and have heaps of money Aunty?" he asked. I didn't really have an answer for him. After I mumbled out some um's and ah's, I said, "A mum! I want to be a mum." Miah laughed and told me I couldn't get paid to be a mum - silly me. Uncle Gary told him that he wanted to do something with music one day, Aunty Gina wanted to own a business, his mother wanted to be a chef. And there I sat, kind of embarassed because I didn't really know what I wanted to be. What the hell was I doing with my life? I never thought of myself as old, or anything like that, but there comes a time when you should probably at least know what you want to do with you life right? Is 21 that age where you should know?
I know that when I was Jeremiah's age, I was all about singing, dancing, acting and modelling. There are hundreds of photos and videos of me pulling my best Sporty Spice pose, singing back up to 'Oh Happy Day' from Sister Act 2 for my brother, dancing the Macarena like no other 6-year-old could. I was in dozens of big stage shows, support leads even! I learnt the piano, picked up jazz and tap through the shows, sang solos in front of full houses at Aotea Centre, I was a confident wee thespian I was! This phase lasted forever, I didn't grow out of it til I was out of intermediate. That dream of making it big and starring in Shortland St obviously died. But it was the first thing I knew I wanted to pursue in life.
By the time I hit 13, I was an avid sports fan. I'd played netball, rugby league, basketball, backyard cricket, competed in athletics. But touch was my life. My whole family was into it, we were all Auckland reps and if we weren't down at the park competing against other teams, we were competing against eachother in the backyard on our home-made 5-metre line field. I was a fit young thing, loved all the sports I was playing at school socially and competitively, and I loved the theory and physicality of P.E. as a subject. I don't know why, but from about 13 through to 16, I wanted to be a physiotherapist. I guess I thought it made good money and had something to do with sport. Then in my 7th form year, I was inspired by my P.E. teacher to become one (a P.E. teacher that is). Because I was a lot older, I can definitely say I was passionate about this goal. I enjoyed and understood the subject at school, I enjoyed the inter-activeness with my teacher at the time, and I could see myself doing it. I didn't get into the uni course to be a P.E. teacher.
Heading into my first year of uni, I opted to do a BA, purely because english was the next subject I was successful in, and also one which I enjoyed. I found a whole new realm of english that year - journalism. I loved it. Writing seemed to come easily to me throughout school, and now at uni, I could almost write what I wanted, however I wanted to. No essay outline, no answers to text and all that jazz. I wanted to be a writer. A magazine or newspaper columnist or something along those lines.
Uni didn't work out for me at all. I wasn't focussed enough on it, and I don't think I had enough drive in me to get a degree done. I took time off, went back and changed my major to public health, mainly because my Mum suggested it after I worked with her for half a year doing something similar. Yeah, I enjoyed some of it, it seemed like a legitimate career path, but I wasn't passionate about it, the way I was about writing.
So here I am, two years later, with the same goal of being a writer, no where closer to it. I've had another thought of owning my own bar one day, after Big Tom P tossed the idea around with me one night, because I loved my jobs as bartenders previously. I'm good at it and it's something else I'm passionate about. I don't think simply being a bartender for the rest of my life would make Mama Gut too happy.
I guess there's always been a stigma around admitting what I wanted to do throughout my life. I'm not sure if everybody feels the same way, but I've found I've needed approval of my goals. Constant reassurance that I'm good at what I'm doing. If I failed at something, I simply packed it in and changed my mind because I saw it as a sign that maybe I wasn't good at it. I guess that's what this blog is about really. Seeing as I exhausted my resources, going about achieving my goal the traditional way, I have to go about satisfying my writing hunger in other ways. Seeing all my friends about to graduate really got me thinking, can I still do it? I really punked out when it came to my dream because I didn't want to grow up and face failure. My friends all have the drive, they're growing up and becoming event managers, designers, teachers, entrepreneurs (I really do admire you guys! *tears*).
As much as I don't want to, it's time to grow up. Here's hoping this blog will keep me motivated to go about becoming a certified bad ass columnist, the alcohol will keep me motivated to open my own bar one day and Jeremiah will become a lion tamer in his lifetime, at least.
Serious thoughts over. Enjoy a song on me, Parallel Dance Ensemble - Conditions, on repeat at the mo.
Just spent two hours voluntarily researching John F. Kennedy, the 35th President of the United States of America. It's not often I get these urges to educate myself, but I saw X-Men: First Class yesterday (which for the record, sucked), and it's loosely based around the 'Soviet missiles in Cuba' incident that happened way back in the 60's, near the end of the film. If you want to see the suck-ass movie, skip the next few sentences. The movie tells us that the super powered up gangster X-Men all play a part in managing to stop the U.S. from firing at the Soviets, and the Soviets from firing at the U.S., woohoo no World War III thanks to Magneto and Co! Cutting to the chase, I wanted to know if the X-Men really did play a part in the historical event (seeing as I'm positive I was a 60's child in a previous life, remember, I figure it's important to know my roots). Turns out they're not even real - downbuzz.
Also recently read a book about three generations of Chinese women who went through hell in their combined lifetimes, from Chinese empires being overthrown in the 1900's, to Japanese invasions of China, all the way up to Pearl Harbour. 'Wild Swans' by Jung Chang - fully seck book if you're into crazy drrrama intertwined with a bit of history for yo ass.
So! After educating my small brain a bit more, everything is so much clearer! One of JFK's earliest most defining moments as President surrounded the crazy ass Russians planting missiles on Cuba, which is super close to the U.S. It was weird and confusing - were the missiles planted in defence or were they planning some super saiyan nuclear attack on America? Although JFK was being pressured by others in his cabinet to attack their asses, his smart, collected and ultimately correct decision making lead to the retrieval of the missiles. He referred leading with an attack as "Pearl Harbour in reverse". Hence, my connection to ze book!
Both rather weird connections, but they pressed me enough to look into the Kennedy family and the history behind what I thought would be their political hungry lives. Sure, they're not all perfect. JFK was rumoured to be a bit of a dog, his parents tried to send his sister to a Convent - whatever. I'm pretty much in love with the guy. JFKool in my eyes.
Today the heavens up opened up above me. I was blinded by a bright light that I have never in my 21 years experienced, a choir of angels echoed the Hallejuah Chorus (could have been small children, not totally sure on that front), and the microwave beeped that annoying bloody beep to let me know my tea was hot again. It was almost as if God had intended it. Intended that I was bored, intended that I was listening to the exact artists I had been in the past hour, intended that the microwave went off at that exact moment. I think I had my first ever epiphany today. I can finally put my finger on my taste in music (or at least a part of it).
For years I've huddled under the umbrella of eclectics when it comes to music. Possibly the day after I watched Sister Act 2 and learned what it meant to be an eclectic, I became one (big ups Sister Mary Clarence). It's true, I actually am. But today, I found a common thread in part of my eclectic taste.
I stand firmly by my belief that I was either born in the wrong era, or was a 60's or 70's child in a previous life. I love ANYTHING from that time period. The Temptations, Carl Carlton, Jackson 5, The Beatles, Otis Reading, Al Green, Earth Wind & Fire, Average White Band, Marvin Gaye, Diana Ross (with The Supremes), Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, heck I even found awesomeness in AC/DC and Fleetwood Mac - not the first genre I'd head to in a music store. So grouping that lot together, Old Skool has always had a place in my heart. Cheers Ma & Pa for raising me on the good shit.
Growing up with older siblings also meant I was bred to love early 90s rap and hiphop. It wasn't until I started heading towards the end of my adolescent years that I actually really appreciated the O.G. shiet though. Yeahhh, I was a teeny bopping, Lil' Bow Wow fan up until then. Biggie, Run DMC, Nas, Slick Rick, Lauryn Hill, 2Pac, Nate Dogg, Warren G! Even a few years ago I was still discovering the legit De La Soul, Wu-Tang, A Tribe Called Quest, and Beastie Boys' originals. All those rides with my big sister and her mates are encrypted in my memory bank.
So today, my epiphany fused these two genres together while listening to the Forthwrite Mixtape from 360 & Pez. They do exactly what I love in music and a bit more. A bad ass beat (not all bass, not all synthesizer, sometimes something similar to an old skool groove), smart and witty lyrics, and an old skool sample (or something similar to one) with a hook mashed in. *SIGH* - magic. Something I can sing along to and nod my head to in a gee'd up way - haha. They aren't the only ones doing it; crews like Homebrew are onto the same recipe, Jay-Z and Lupe Fiasco have used it too. I must admit, the Aussie accents get a bit much with these guys, but that was a deciding factor that only confirmed my epiphany. I could still listen to it all despite their inability to pronounce their words in an understandable manner. I'm not saying this is all I listen to because there is no way in hell I'm giving up my love for the likes of Jason Derulo and The Black Kids (*cough* or Jesse McCartney), but it's definitely a big part of what I'm into.
Teary eyed goodbyes as my siblings and family all flew home
Ta daaaa
Application forms for Africa - tax number, drivers license, key card, job apps, sim card, internet - I've never spelt my name so many times in a week
My two favourite websites at the mo
My new flatty - 6-year-old Jeremiah has been keeping me entertained with knock knock jokes and Lego til I find mates my own age. Someone similar to...
This guy. He looks like he's down for a good time.
Safe to say my social life is far from what it was in Akl for now; I fell asleep watching Wall-E next to my 2-year-old flatty Eli on Saturday night - holla. I did however wake up to a shots party - got blind drunk with Georgie, Gary, his sister and her partner on our own disgusting concoctions of shots. Went to a pool bar and stole a shaker. Successful night I'd say.
Miss the crew and my family to the maxxx. But woohoo, I'm finally here. Ssssssup Melbourne.
This past week has been ridic. I think I've said "what the fuck, the world is too small" about six times. That's a fair few more than three times.
I found myself in a Mt Eden lounge a few days ago (hung mung/still drunk) with a work mate, a guy I met back at school, a friend of another friend, and his girlfriend (who I'd met super wasted a few times but couldn't say I was totally acquainted with) who ended up being quite good friends with two of my best friends. How I ended up in this lounge, I don't really know. Apparently I was on the hotline to poor old work pal and ended up getting them to pick me up after I face planted a trailer and claimed to have a raging fat lip that needed attention the night before (half of this true, the other half I put down to me being drunk/a hypochondriac). But wow it was pretty buzzy, mainly because I'd met all of these people in totally different ways and didn't think there was such a close connection between them (bar the gf/bf combo of course). They were probably just as weirded out by my connection to each one of them too, and my raging fat lip complaints as well I guess. But it's such a small world that we all ended up together that drunken morning in that lounge.
The following night, after work we were having a laugh with one of the local regulars (regular as in 'at least two beers a day keeps the doctor away' regular), who thought he'd share with us the fact that he was Justin Timberlake's body double in a McDonald's ad that was shot here in New Zealand years ago. For reals. He was getting his groove on, showing us his moves and we were all giggling along. I lolingly (it's a word) mentioned that I actually still kind of remembered the dance I did in a Kool Aid commercial I featured in when I was a kid. Adrian (the two beers a day regular) stopped mid JT slide and stared at me wide eyed. I thought he was going to abuse me for (somehow) being apart of the Kool Aid epidemic that ended up killing some kids way back when. "Not the Kool Aid ad that was shot up north on that beach in 1998?" he yelled. Awkward, a Kool Aid fan? "Yeahhh it was actually, and yeah I was about 8.. So yeah?" - sheepish as reply of mine. "With the little afro-american kids dancing on the beach and giant blow up thing in the water?!" ...Dude knows this Kool Aid ad? "Yeah that's definitely the one? Haha?" - I was secretly playing things down, really thinking 'Oh my God... Maybe this guy actually recognises me?' - "HA HA! I cast that commercial! I was in the crew up there! Small bloody world!" Adrian exclaims. And off we went on a tangent about the Kool Aid commercial, finishing off eachothers' stories about the cyclone that kept us on set in Kaitaia an extra day, and the night our bus got stuck in the mud for hours before it was towed out by some psycho on a mission (turned out to be Adrian ya know). And ok, so he didn't recognise me at all and I found out I was actually cast as a little nig, not the Spanish cutie like my Mum made out, but whaaat the fuck! Small, small bloody world we kept saying.
And then! We find out that Adrian's friend who was drinking with him at work a few nights prior, turns out to be Alan the Felon who used to rap with CocoSolid back in the day, and recognised Claire as her sister because she was hoodratting the scene that night! Just weeeeiiiiiird man. (This was totally a "Lateesha's cousin Lauren told me to tell you to tell Laurelle that Latasha was looking for her" kind of story. Sweet as if it doesn't make sense, it does ok, honest.)
Despite the fact that I have three more, I won't put you through another 'OMG she's right, it's such a small world' story, I'm confusing myself a bit and you can probably see where I'm going with this. I'm not entirely sure whether my circles are too small or I'm too big, lol, but either way - AK is getting totes out of hand! Wise Old T-Ped made the valid point that there was an upside to Auckland's thought-to-be shrinking social scene, and that was for people like him - who in his profession, find networking pretty damn important. He's booked gigs purely by going to school with a band's drummer all those years ago or knowing a friend of a friend's rapper buddy. It's not all bad news. And yeah I'd have to agree. As much as I complain about not being able to meet new people without making a too-close-for-comfort connection, I guess that's how making friends works in this day and time. It's someone in common, not something. Six degrees of separation is alive and kicking homie. And just as I get to wrapping shit up here, the word fate pops into my head - ugh. We'll save that for another sleepless night.
Being the victim of a few off-the-fucking-richter hangovers as of late, the amount of take-out I've stuffed my face with is probably unhealthy - for both my battered body and battered bank account. I present to you my Top 5 Bad Ass Hangover Feeds.
No.5 - 5am BK Banter
I would not believe you for one moment if you told me you have never found yourself at Burger King counting the last of your change on to the counter for a $5 meal deal at 5am (or if anyone else has never found you doing so, whatever). Not for one moment in time! Hungover, rightly pissed, same same but different. Everyone knows a dirty Rodeo burger or anything of the like from BK is the only legit way to end a Saturday night/Sunday morning (guilty) in town. The trip more often than not ends in flying fries but who's to judge at 5am right?! The jury is still out on whether it's pronounced Row-dee-owe or Row-day-owe. The 5am BK banter at the counter is getting a little too heated, your thoughts?
If this isn't inticing, I don't know what is. The King is back bitches.
No. 4 - The Dirty Bird
Despite the shittiest service on earth (bar the token happy as Larry girl who works at the Ponsonby outlet - you have to know the one I'm talking about), KFC is usually reliable enough to hit the spot come 2pm hangover's D-Day. I'm not a huge fan of the actual chicken on the bone (gross), but a decent snackburger when I can handle it seems to do the trick. Let's be honest though - it's the chips with extra seasoning that gives K-Fried it's pull factor (*unashamed sober dribble*), because afterall I recently found out via FB that the Colonel Sanders was actually not the founder of the 11 top secret original herbs and spices, but in fact a white supremacist. Thank you Emily Andrews.
Dude's clearly hung as fuck.
No. 3 - Mercury Plaza
The number of people you know and see from the night before walking up the Mercs stairs come Sunday morning says something about it's ability to cure hangovers. Most people go for the oh-so-popular Japanese, but I myself often wonder how in the world a shit-load of rice gets rid of a pounding headache. I've noticed Pad Thai is a crowd favourite with some now too though - apparently the extra cashews are essential. All I can think about however is the baby bowl of miso you get from the Japanese place with your meal. Coz mi-so hung! (See what I did there?) Major bonus about Mercs - you can literally roll out of bed and go there not worrying about how bad you look/smell. Close to everyone there on a Sunday is just as hung as you are. You know you've got a problem when you look the worst... But I say cross that bridge when you get to it.
Ummmm, I'm not false advertising because it definitely doesn't look as clean as this photo suggests now, but give me a break, Google images only go so far.
No. 2 - Ponsonby Foodcourt
Ohhhh shiet. The highly controversial Pons Foodcourt. AboutTown voted it's Thai place the best in Auckland once (I get the feeling it was ages ago, but good on you proud mama of the Thai place for keeping the framed article left, right and centre of the counter for this long. I would too). And boy oh boy, was AboutTown right. The only problem you'll face here is deciding what to get. It's always the green curry thing (number 18) vs. tom yum (number 30) for me - yes I know the numbers. Hungover wise, tom yum is usually the winner on the day. I'm not going to lie, I've come to the (oh so significant) conclusion that Pons Foodcourt Thai is only the perfect hangover feed for the kind that keeps you in bed all day and only drags you out when absolutely necessary - around 9pm when you feel you could probably stomach something. And sure, it's controversial only because sometimes the number of people there can be overwhelming on a bad day - a deterrent of all sorts when you look/smell like you should be at Mercs - but it really is worth it.
Another slightly eatass photo, soz boz.
No. 1 - WENDY'S
I'm sorry if this is some kind of anti-climax for you but there is NOTHING like a five dollar hollaaaa - morning, noon or night - when your brain feels like it's about to explode out your ears, your tummy is doing all sorts of weird cirque de soleil shit and flashbacks are haunting your exploding brain. Believe me homeboy, Dave's Meal Deal or whatever they've changed it's name to, knows how to fix you up. It's done the dirty on me a few times - I've been absolutely satisfied and gone jogging an hour later (ha, yeah ok), or I've ended up spewing chunky chips half an hour later (sorry for any visuals this may have just caused) - but I've felt better either way. Not convinced? If a 1L cup/bucket of coke doesn't quench that thirst at least, then you're seriously fucked. Long live the five dollar holla!
Ohhh Dave. All round good cunt.
Ok, just previewed this post and I'm clearly a little too obsessed with food but seriously - you have no idea how bad these hangovers have been. If this has actually been shit and you feel you've wasted your time, then have a laugh at the following vid below. They took down the original clip from YouTube so don't bother with anything after the first song. Earl Okin - Musical Genius & Sex Symbol.
One of New Zealand's most under-rated artists in my opinion, Coco Solid, with Bobbi Soxx as Parallel Dance Ensemble, just floored me with another fucking cool video clip. Not only is the song catchy and genuinely good, but the video is visually chur as, and the ideas are even more chur-able (overboard on the chur?).
I've met her, she's my friend's sister (big ups to Claire for your cameo in the latest video, strutting like a pro homegirl!), and I don't want to sound like a lick-ass, but she's pretty cool man! The woman can spit, she's already released her first zine (book/magazine kinda thing) - Philosoflygirl, she's held an art exhibition... She's a creative goddess pretty much. Article in the latest issue of Frankie magazine entitled "What Is 'Cool'?" defined it as four simple words: 'not giving a shit' - totes agree. And that's why I have mad respect for Coco Solid. She's a real individual, has her own style - which she tributes to her multicultural background. Being of Samoan/German/Maori decent has played a part in her love for hybridism. I can't think of anyone who is remotely like her in many senses. She comes across as someone who gives a shit about the right/important things maybe? To her. Not entirely sure how to explain what I mean. Anyway, really admire her for doing what she wants and doing it well.
The new video is so mean! Just like earlier videos like 'Weight Watchers', it's full of bright colours which makes it fun to watch. The shopping cart concept behind this one is what really impresses me. The idea of the woman buying the abstract things mentioned in the song that have become tangible in the products. The ambition, vision, feeling him in her heart etc. So smart! And the actual concept behind the song, I close to love even more. "It's a full time job to keep her shopping cart..." - lolburger! Bobbi Soxx gives the song a smooth la de da kind of feeling and Coco Solid's ease with words and ideas behind them makes the song more than some 'Souljah Boy up in this hoe' bullshit. Parallel Dance Ensemble - Shopping Cart - churrrrrrr.
'Weight Watchers' too, if you haven't seen/heard this - do itttttt.
In other news, weekend was the grossest I've had in a while. First Saturday night I've finished work early enough to go out after. Ugh. Damn you sickos - you know who you are. But it means I did get to spend Sunday arvo lunch with some of the crew I felt like I hadn't seen in ages. I missed you guys! I missed you bad! Until I became the butt of every joke again. Assholes.
P.s. Hiiiii Jenny, Mattpoo, Tanzy and Astaleeeeee. Welcome to the life and times :)
Also, decided to review Parallel Dance Ensemble to try something new. Will post more during the week for those who want to laugh at my expense etc.
Also! Want to mention the few peeps who have peep'd the blog through these early stages. Emily, Kim, Claire and Sam - chur to the churrrrrr. I appreciate the feedback, it's got me on a bit of a buzz. This is dedicated to you! Ed Solo & Skool of Thought ft Darrison - Life Gets Better. It makes me feel good, hopefully does the same for you xx
I was in a bit of a shit yesterday. Just realised I had a shitload of fines to pay or I wouldn't be able to leave the country. Hence the psycho post. Please excuse me. I lol'd at it today.
But it did get me thinking. I was stressballing to the max when I realised there was a possibility I'd be stopped at the airport on the way to Melbourne (possibly the absolute epitome of 'shame bitch'). Just being on hold to the lovely lady at the Ministry (of Justice, not Magic. Douchelord), had me sweating in nearly every place possible! Including the ever-worrying upper lip.
There were two things I did while on hold.
Number one was make a cup of tea. Sure, I paced up and down the kitchen throughout the process, and I didn't even wait til the jug was fully boiled. But this cup of tea seemed to be that important. I've always been a tea kind of girl. Since I was honestly 8-years-old, I've had tea and toast for breakfast, I've had gingernuts dipped in tea after dinner with Nana, I've had tea at 2am whilst finishing assignments. A pot of tea has always been some kind of comfort to me. NB: Tea bags, unless Twinnings Earl Grey or any branded Green, do NOT have the same effect as tea leaves brewed in a pot. So while I was on hold to the Ministry (of Justice, not Magic. Douchelord), I brewed my tea. And once that teacup of comfort was good to go, with a bit of milk and half a teaspoon of sugar, I sat down on a couch and no shit, sighed a sigh of relief. A fucking cup of tea made me feel so much better!
The second thing I did was txt a friend. I quote, "Fml, wea u? Got cig? Dessssp" - haha. Prone to the sneaky drag or two, I not only needed a cigarette, but friendly banter always seemed to make me feel better in previous cases of stress too. So off I went to my cellular. Offloading my worry on to C.Bear also brought on a much needed sigh of relief. Even if her reply to my explanation txt was, "Oh rats! I'm rolling cigs as I have none, then I'll come" - haha. I strolled off to work after speaking to the lovely 'Ministry (of Justice, not Magic. Douchelord) lady', where I was due to start in a few hours, and there I had a chat with Big Tom P - my manager and friend - and another work mate, before Claire arrived. It was weird to think that the whole 15min walk to work had me furrowing my brows, biting my nails and, again, sweating in every place possible - but as soon as Luke, Tom and Claire all said hey, I completely forgot about my worries. We had a decent yarn and Claire assured me everything would be ok, Tom told me he had my back, aaand Luke fucked off to a gig. Can't win them all I guess.
Inso facto! (I hope that's the correct phrase) I have come to realise that when I'm going bonkers beyond measures, the two stress relieving options I have are: tea - a cup of comfort. Or socialising - a couple of mates. Sorry I took a while to get to the point. Lol, that's a bit of an anti-climax. But I encourage you to get amongst the tea and company whenever you think shit is hitting the fan. I'm absolutely ay-oh-kay today after a shit ripper of a day yesterday. Tea and company are sure cures for most things. If not, Claire suggested weed also works.
Financial issues. You literally suck the fun out of life. Just when things start looking good, those damn isssssssues creep up on ya. So, money woes - kindly get fucked please. You put a damper on everything. I know I should be handling my business, but mate, you don't need to be a prick about it! Help this little brown girl out and cut me some slack wherever possible (preferrably in the area that has recently popped up - yeah I'm talking to you Ministry of Justice!). I will put my car on TradeMe this week just to make some easy moolah to pay my damn WOF dues, I'll put my iPhone up for sale if I have to, I'll even cut down to going out only once a week, I PROMISE. But please, don't make me sell myself on the street.
So I'm off to Melbourne in a little over a month to give living there a crack. Just realised how soon that actually is and I don't know if I'm prepared. Money issues aside, what the duck am I going to do without my beloved crew? Yeah I said what the duck, don't judge me. No more unexpected Sunday night drinks til 3am, no more Weekly Wednesdays out, no more arvo beers in the sun. I don't even want to think about the gigs I'm going to miss with them. I'm a self-confessed sufferer of FOMO ("Fear Of Missing Out" for those of you who have been living under a rock), and after missing out on a mate's 21st Saturday gone because of work, and throwing a bit of a sook about it, I'm starting to wonder how bad this FOMO is going to be once I'm across the ditch. Facebook updates, drunken 2am txts/calls - I can see myself literally going insane. What to do, what to do?! Thinking I could cut myself off at all new levels, but would that make it worse? Mehhh, maybe I'll find better friends in Melb and not miss anyone/anything one bit. Highly unlikely. My friends are one of a kind. They have home made foam machines at their parties, and they wake up with 50 dessert forks or icing in their bag after a big night out (no cake, just the icing), and they laugh at people with me outside Pony, and they tarp surf, and they drunkenly tell girls that they only THINK they're hot but they're not. They look after me when I'm annihilated, they laugh at me when I'm annihilated, and they usually get me annihilated. Safe to say my friends are special. Tear! Only time will tell I guess. *Heavy sigh*
On a lighter note, looking forward to hopefully catching the above at some point over in abo-diginal-land. New shiet from Drapht. Discovered this guy about a month ago and dude is LEGIT. He's a little white guy from Australia, can kind of hear his Aussie twang here and there. Have only downloaded a bit of his music, but so far, I've got a soft spot for him. Beats are cool, this one's real groovy I'd say? 60s/70s feel? And the guy is funny. 'Drink, Drank, Drunk' is another goody that will make you agree, he's out to take the piss at times. I've come to the conclusion that he reminds me a bit of New Zealand's Homebrew. Comical kind of rap. Anyway blah blah blah, I liiiiike!
Hoping Drapht isn't like our wannabe Usher - J.Williams, who I saw up at Neighbourhood last night (thanks Emily by the way, for the casual Sunday vino that turned into shit talking 101 at 3am for drunken fools). Fucking LOL. He sang. Ordinary People by John Legend. In public. To HIS group of mates. Loudly. And then he did a back flip. Way to find some attention and embarass your mates Jay!
It was one of my longest friend's 21st birthday over the weekend just gone. I never really thought about how old our friendship was until I had to sit down to write a speech for the party she had at wee Sugar Bar (which I have to say, was a good choice of venue - nice and intimate - just what she wanted I think). Not going to lie, I wrote the speech literally half an hour before I got to the 21st, but she liked it. As follows...
"I've known Emily since we were about 9 years old, just before we started St Mary's together. This is where we also met Amanda - who unfortunately couldn't be here tonight - but wanted to make sure I made a few points about our friendship with Emz. The three of us have been close friends since form 1, so we've had the pleasure of watching Emily grow into the person she is today.
We've seen her go through a few boyfriends - the first of which was the legendary St Peter's boy Robert Borrell. This relationship was probably the best telephone relationship Emz has ever had I'm sure. The fact that he had three way made him so much more appealing to her. But she got over him quick, she dumped the poor guy, of course, over the phone, by playing him 'I Just Wanna Be Friends' by 50c.
We've seen her go through a number of email addresses too, all of which perfectly describe the phases she was going through at the time. We remember sweet and innocent butterfly_star@hotmail.com. Rapperz_hunnie was inspired by her obsession with Chingy in third or fourth form. And then there was hoochie_stylez - still unsure as to what inspired that one.
We've seen Emz rebel over the years. Getting caught smoking at school, being blamed for bullying, giving numberous amounts of teachers a hard time - especially the 'all evil' (according to Emily) Mrs Walsh; Emz has definitely had her moments. But not without taking others down with her. Being in the same class as her for seven years was tough on me. She had me banished to my own desk for months in one english class, had Mrs Johnstone believe I was aboriginal, and I cannot even count the amount of times we were separated in classes.
We've seen you at your worst and at your best Emz. It's hard to believe it's been something like 12 years since you found that mouldy muffin behind my bedroom curtain and still wanted to be my friend. Your stubborn nature is often mistaken for ur strong-will. Your sometimes bitchy comments can be mistaken for your opinionated and outspoken personality. But your jokes will never be funny.
Thank you for being there for Amanda and I, ready with crackers, cottage cheese and tomatoes at all times. Your friendship has been the most constant and important to me in my life. It's been amazing watching you grow into the beautiful young woman you are today. Happy 21st Birthday xxx"
Awwww isn't that cute. It was a real good night in the end. She only wanted a (I quote) "Low Key" 21st, and it was quite, but it was one of those 21sts that had all the important and real friends in attendance. Even though I lost everyone after the actual party before town etc, and ended up on Albert St on my own at 4am - yeah, it was a good night. Way to end the 21st season methinks!
Went on a mini mission yesterday arvo with a mete. Found ourselves on the hunt for Poppa Jacks. Whaaat the hell! Who in their right mind would take this bag of goodness off their dairy shelves?! Crazy talk! Three dairies broke our hearts, with the last dairy owner telling us no one really carried them anymore. Pretty sure Foodtown and supermarkets sell them, but not at the same glorious price of $1.20, the way the dairies would back in the day. *SIGH*. Auckland dairies - sort it out! Holla if ya hear me.
I am the product of a tertiary educated, Samoan/Fijian woman and a ginger ninja, born and bred Cantab man. I was brought up in a somewhat confusing environment at times, but I was always completely aware of my mixed culture.
I've been through phases. I've leaned towards my Pacific Island heritage - admitting my third form email address of fob_ova_hea@hotmail.com (lol slash cringe.) And I've embraced my Dad's background at times too, claiming to be an Irish dancer at the tender age of 6. Don't get me wrong, whether I was the 12-year-old obsessed with Nesian Mystik or the Michael Buble enthusiast of today, I've never denied one culture or the other.
At the ripe old age of 21, my Samoan is average to extremely poor, I have never been to Fiji and my knowledge of Dad's genealogy is shocking, but I can safely say I'm over leaning. I am half New Zealander, a quarter Fijian, a quarter Samoan and, ew - mind the cliche - proud of it.
Welcome to the life and times of a half-caste kid. A collection of stories, thoughts and general bullshit (that will more often than not, have absolutely nothing to do with being half-caste).
