A father, his hands resting on the shoulders of his sons.

This afternoon, I went to the World Press Photo 10 Exhibition in Auckland City. It was quite a spontaneous trip, with my flatmate mentioning she was debating whether to go to a  World Media exhibition, to which of course I was like, lets go! Anything with media and exhibition is bound to be interesting. For my Year 12 prizegiving, I had chosen the book Moments as my book prize, which has every Pulitzer prize-winning photograph since the competition began. I have spent many hours pored over that book, trying to get inside the picture. I find it easy to ignore graphic news footage, but spending time with one single shot of film, enlarged, and often alone and in silence, has deep effects within my conscious. 


I would also say my single biggest regret of high school was choosing biology over photography because I could get Excellence grades. It turns out that I was shocking at biology (largely through lack of effort) and even told the deputy principal on the field trip that I hated it, to which she took great personal offense. I was more angry that she made me go on a field trip on the day of the school ball, but I still had a strong dislike for biology. Anyway, the thread returns that I a) love photography and b) kick myself regularly for turning down the opportunity at high school in order to value good grades.
None of this is why I felt compelled to blog on coming home this afternoon.


The exhibition was extremely crowded. I found myself standing behind a middle-aged father, his hands resting on the shoulders of his two sons, about aged ten and twelve. I was listening as he carefully explained each picture to his boys, the moments of Obama's inauguration, in this case. He asked considered questions: How do you think he is feeling as he comes out and sees all those people? Can you guess where that picture is taken? Washington DC! Yes, Washington DC, that's right. 


He knew a lot about the photos, the current events, what was going on in the world. He explained detail far beyond each picture. My favourite was when we were all looking at a picture of three American soldiers defending. The shot was from behind; one of the soldiers was in his I (heart) NY Boxers and not much else. The caption indicated the soldiers had been taken by surprise. Do you know where that is? he asked his sons. That's (name) Point, where more American soldiers have died than any other. It's in the book I reviewed for the paper last week. There was no arrogance in his manner or his voice. Instead, he carried a gentle presence. The soft touch on the shoulder, the quiet explanations. Perhaps I could say he carried a wisdom in his demeanor. 


I thought, how lucky those boys are to have a father so educated about the world. How lucky those boys are to have a father who cares enough to pass on this care to his sons. And moreover, I thought, I want to be a parent like that. To take the time to explain to my children what I myself am learning and discovering each day. 

Why i'm looking forward to summer

Because I'll have easy access to a GOOD library full of all those books I want to read.
Not an hour bus-trip away. (That said, I need to do an Auckland library trip) and the local library near my house is full of actual.. crappy.. FICTION.

My current wishlist/things to buy when I get the funds.

1. A Meanjin subscription. It's like media studies and literature all in one.
2. Some damn good shoes.
3. A big green plant.
4. A pet goldfish.
5. A retro-kind-of-radio.
6.
7.
8. A VIEW.

Note to self: some assorted things to do

1. Live on my own, listening to a lot of non-music radio and reading a lot of fat books.
2. Learn the phases of literary history, and very basic human history.
3. Condense my wardrobe to one suitcase.
4. Take that suitcase, and live in America.
5. Spend an entire summer at a holiday place.
6. Do the Abel Tasman hike.
7. Write books.
8. 
9. Go to an international rugby match. Or any rugby match.
10. 
11.
12.Find a man who can light fires to keep me warm.
13.Marry that man.
14. Make sure that man wasn't married just for his fire-lighting abilities.
15.
16.Read the entire Famous Five collection, again.
17. 
18. Learn to cook an amazing dinner with lots of red wine in it.
19. 
20. Hibernate in the bush for a month or so.
21. Kiss in the pouring rain. It has to be pouring.
22. Do funny speech at brother's wedding/21st.
23. Be the crazy aunt to brother's children. Exactly how is still to be decided. Suggestions welcome.
24. Learn to paint properly. I mean, do painting or photography class.
25. Take dancing lessons. Ball room ones.
26. Buy/own a simple, small, gold watch and (inscribed) bangle.
27. Stand at the tip of Cape Reinga.
28. Live on top of a cliff.
29. Spend a night in a cave.
30. Have a pet. Must include, over course of life: goldfish, cat. No rats or mice.
31. If children appear, force them to learn to drive.
32. Learn to drive.
33.  Write lots of lists and stick them all over the walls (Maybe in accordance with No. 1)
34. Study at an overseas university.
35. 
36.
37. Find man who can light fires to keep me warm.
38. Marry that man.
39. Read books in bed with that man.
40. 
41. (Perhaps) procreate with the same man.
42. Go to Israel.
43. Meet up for coffee with Mick Duncan when I am thirty years old.
44. 
45. Shave head
46. 
47.

Thoughts, half-listening to a playlist for Taylor, half studying or something.

I was just thinking how the podiatrist asked if I was in pain, and I said no. She said if I was in pain then she would tell me I have to find that bucket-load of money and get the stuff done. Get the shoes. Whatever. 


And then walking home, I realised, yes, actually I was in pain. I am always in pain. But like a colourblind child does not know what he is missing, I don't know what walking is without some sort of pain. But I did not think of that when talking to the podiatrist, because it is a constant. We do not notice the constants in our lives so much as we notice the anomalies. But I decided a few years ago to not be a complainer, ever.  I am not perfect, but when you think complaining is not an option, you do downplay the pain, even to your own brain. I always liked thinking of Dory in Finding Nemo, 'just keep swimming, just keep swimming.'


It's been an up-and-down week. I went to the beach. I went to the doctor, the podiatrist, got jabbed with a few needles. I got a super-good report back from my lecturer on my 602 report. I clutched an ice-cream container and vomited and cried. My funds are diminishing rapidly and I am thinking of options to increase them. Tomorrow I am exploring the museum and then going to Jesse Sheehan's cafe gig in Kingsland (!) with Ocean and Olive. I have talked to my mum like four times this week! I think that is the most, ever.


I found out a different friend has got cancer. I found out a different friend (my age, too) has got engaged. The news always seems to be 'cancer, cancer, engagement, engagement.'  Too many cancers, a nice amount of engagements. I suppose in both regards I think how lucky I am for I do not want cancer nor am I keen for a quick engagement at age almost-19. 


I was thinking today (in the shower, yes) that my grandmother was pregnant with my Mum at my age! She got pregnant and then they hurriedly got married. I like it when grandma tells me how her father was very angry and how scared she was to tell him. I like this story because it makes grandma seem very accessible to me. I have not talked to my grandma about my youthful mistakes but her stories nicely remind me she is not perfect.


I turn nineteen on Monday. I have always used that phrase of speech. I 'turn' nineteen. On the calendar I write, on people's birthdays, that Michael 'turns' 17 and Dad 'turns' 56' and Mum 'turns' 44. It sounds so sterile, for most people write on the calendar 'SONYA'S 19th BIRTHDAY!' Instead, the clock ticks over and I turn into a nineteen year old female human, a New Zealander, even, and I get up and go to class and mould into my new age. It is drizzling, drizzling, drizzling.

There goes me, on my fourteenth birthday, in my parents house. I remember my fourteenth birthday so vividly and so clear. I remember how clean my room was, the collage of pictures Teresa stuck on my wall, the poetry book she gave me of her poetry and how it excited me so. I remember all her kids there for dinner, and Nicky coming 'round after school before she went to her schools' open evening. I remember having no class third and fourth period to watch the sports exchange, and telling every single kid I saw as I walked around with fifthformer Floyd, that it was my birthday. I remember that the day was so so sunny.

I love NZ

My aunty made Masterchef, round one.

I shouldn't blog when in a bad frame of mind but

I hate my body.
I'm sorry, body, but you can find your own eight hundred dollars.

EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS.
I got an application form for Pak'n' save today - morning fill jobs going: 5am-8am.

Smart women hold it together. Smart women work for what they need. Smart women do not borrow funds. Smart women do not complain. Smart women keep on going. Smart women pursue wisdom and discipline.

Today left my head kicked in.

a rare conversation with my parents

'Oh Sonya, you were in the paper the other day..'
What? I don't even live in Hawke's Bay! Did you save the article?
Naaah...

Things I am pedantic about

On facebook, when people put in their school or university, and they write 'collage' instead of college or do any sort of spelling error.. or even spell the name of their school/uni wrong! How does that happen?

Or when people write 'High School '05' when they STARTED the high school in '05, but graduated in '09! That especially bugs me.

Or making a photo album called 'eraster camp' for easter camp.

But this isn't like accidental misspelling, its blatantly ignoring how words sound and work.
I'm too critical. Not everyone appreciates facebook accuracy, or good spelling, Sonya.

Reading 1 Corinthians 13 and 14

When I first started this biblical interpretation class, I thought it was silly 'cause it was so simple. And it IS simple, but it has completely changed the way I read the bible. Coool man. Cool.

Today it is raining so I'm having a writing day

But first, here are some things I like.


Breakfast: toast - wholegrain, Vogels or homemade, slathered with mayonnaise and wholegrain mustard, with two free-range freshly poached (slightly runny) eggs, spread out to make the yolk run over, with sea salt and cracked pepper, with juice, or milo.


Broccoli. I love broccoli. Mushrooms. I love mushrooms too. I love tomato red lentil soup and vegetarian lentil nachos. I like to make both of these and eat them with lots of sour cream and parmesan cheese and warm toasty homemade bread.


I like beautiful films. I love Amelie. I love Amelie because it is a treat for the eyes (So beautifully filmed!) and I have fallen in love with the characters, their quirks. I love that I have some of those quirks. I like to tip everything out and order it all back again. I love cool clever camera movements and I wish I could make films like Jean-Pierre Jeunet. I like the sound of French, and I'm trying to decide between learning Spanish and French.


I love water, and views and plants. I am going to buy a plant for my bedroom.


I am realising I like structure more than I thought I did. I like having a workday, and a restnight. I like poetry about the relationships between people. I like wood. I like mihis and I like chapels.


I like purified water. I like bibles covered in writing, and underlining. I like handwritten messages in the fronts of books. I like maps. I like ambient music. I like Dr. Seuss's 'Oh the places you will go!' I like wisdom and I like wise people. I like to soak up their words. 


I like brown and I like red. Brown and red are my favourite colours, especially when together. I like red lips and I like eyes. I like fairy lights and I like lights reflecting off the water. I would rather be cold in a coat than be dying of heat in a t-shirt.


I like how I grew up. I like coming to conclusions that make me feel at peace. I like visits to the chiropractor and I like wondering about faces. I like to wonder about the man next door and I like to tell stories. I like beautiful violins. I like hearing Alice play the violin.


 I like putting myself in boxes and then comparing the boxes and realising how different they are so they cannot be all right and then realising they all are helpful for understanding the whole but cannot be fully relied on.


See! See! I like thought trains like the one above. I like going to class in a good frame of mind. If I go awake, fed and with a good attitude I almost always will find it interesting. Even high school science and maths. I like that I find almost the whole world interesting.


I really really like beeswaxing my shoes and I really really like wearing clothes or shoes until they die. I like prolonging the lives of belongings. I really really like reading old newspapers, because I will love every article and peruse the words. 


That is enough for now. I like myself. I like writing, and refining. So I shall go write and refine.

A nice thought, pilfered off my Bible Interpretation online thing.

Read the introduction to chapter 6. Notice that the authors are not saying that God can not (or even does not) use the procedure of grabbing random verses, they are just saying that such use of the Bible is not a fair or proper reading of the Bible as it demands a miracle (even if a small one) from God. I think of it as being like walking up to a door and waving my stick at it expecting it to open for me like the sea did form Moses, instead of turning the handle and pushing. Studying the Bible using the usual methods for studying texts is like opening the door the usual way ;)

Ecstaticly beautiful

Listen to this (or a whole Sigur Ros album) while you read this.

I feel like I'm in a sweet sweet heaven.

I love the chiropractor essay/story/prose poem. There is something about the relationship between chiropractor and patient. They know your body better than you. It can't help but be slightly intimate.

The Happy Story-Feeling In My Belly

Looking through all  my poetry written this year - trying to figure out what can be worked on and submitted to Re-Draft.


And I've realised, it's ALL CRAZY. Like in-my-head crazy dreams and descriptions and floaty and even if its not in my head its still a bit mad. Compared to you-know, 'story of people I see' and want to share, like I used to write. Funny man. Funny. Crazy as in before I could submit anything random to this comp.. and they just published it, and now I don't think the judges would be so kind.. 'cause they wouldn't get it get it


I wrote a story about a lady called Grace who is an alcoholic. And she liked to watch the phone fall off the wall and kinda strangle the voice calling. And somedays she would spend the whole day in bed and other days she dreamed of being a cooking teacher with hot housewives and their soft soft scarves hanging off her every word. Grace had a sister that stopped coming to visit. She had a '98 travel magazine on her stove. Grace had to plan days in advance for when she left the house.


I am not sure whether I'll send Grace to this competition. I'm not sure where Grace even came from. Oh! I know. I had had a few glasses of wine one weekend and was feeling all dead and random and I just started writing. By myself, too lazy to cook, all that really was in the fridge was strawberry wine, and I just started extrapolating that mindset out into a story.


I wanted to write a blog about reading. I even wrote in on the wall to remind myself. The other night I read The Glass Castle, by Jeanette Walls. When I finished the book I remembered why I need and enjoy reading. 'Cause I need these peoples stories and experiences floating around in my head. These stories talk of other places, and take me away for a while. Reading about a tiny little nothing-mining town in West Virginia and the falling-apart house, and going to New York, and seeing your homeless parents rummaging through bins as you walk to your magazine job.. all adds to the fodder. That is my Input talking (collecting information). This all helps my understanding of the world. Stories need to be told. And finishing the story made me happy! There is a feeling that is good.


When I was at high school, sometimes I would get a book out of the library at lunch, then I would read it through last period then on the bus and then sit outside and read it til it was dinner at 5pm and it was getting dark. By then the book would be finished. And I would be very happy. Normally those books were biographies of random girls who got out of slavery or whatever but even though my eyes were sore and I was starving from not eating (I was bad at eating at high school) I would have a good story-feeling in my belly. I would just smile at nothing in particular, as I ate baked sausages and boiled veges and drank too much cheap fizzy drink (pretty much raised on the stuff, a constant argument). Just have the story floating in my head. Reading, eh.


A story-feeling in my belly. That's it.

Above everything

The number one thing I probably miss about Hawke's Bay and anything to do with my life there, is being completely free to dance crazy and shameless with Lauren, Louise, Gerard, Sarah and everyone whenever I felt like. And Ben and Tiho too. There's a certain freedom that comes with that.


The thing about dancing is once you get into it, you are relatively inhibition free. It's just so freeing.


Lately I have been listening to a lot of music about dancing.

The Big C (Anyone read 'The Whole of the Moon'?)

I now have two guy friends who have had/are going through testicular cancer. At age 17. 19. Yooung, man. Yet I know no females, and certainly none my age, who have had breast cancer. It just seems crazy, when you think of the advertising/campaigns and all that around breast cancer versus prostrate/testicular cancer. Aargh, cancer. Arrgh, aggressive cancer. Arrrgh.


My blog has been relatively serious lately.

Human. Love. Feeling. Wise 17-y-o Sonya speaks.

Just when I think I'm not a romantic.. I watch a love story movie and remember I was made to love and be loved. AWWWWWWWWWWWWW


I'm terrified of losing my mind. I would rather be dead or lose my body than lose my mind.
But if I lost my mind I hope people would still love me!


It is terrifying? perhaps, to think of our bodies deteriorating
minds deteriorating. but what remains? I hope love remains. Love remains.


I'm a human giirrrl/woman. Looove eeehhee.
I think, its the knowledge you are CHOSEN. You are something to someone.


I am a heart. It's this constant dialogue: am I heart or mind? Of course I am both. Humans are both. Some more mind, perhaps, but I have a big fat heart.


awww SHUCKS Sonya Jasmine


I like that while Sonya Clark means 'wise scholar' Jasmine is the love bit in the middle.(sensuality and attachment are its two connotations)


Oh SHUCKS


My whole life is a dialogue. With myself. About myself. About how it ought to be done. My life, that is. About mind and heart and heart and mind and God and Jesus and others and battling to obtain wisdom and selflessness and never feeling like I live up to my own values. Always dissatisfied with what my current state is in line with my values.. I actually stay awake at night looking at my room in frustration with the STUFF I own.And I don't own a lot of stuff. In fact my mother probably stays awake at night worrying about me chucking out all my memories. She has mentioned this, not that she stays awake at night, but that she worries I don't own enough mementos of my life.


I'd actually probably be happiest owning two outfits, a bible, a poetry anthology, and a couple of good letters. I don't chuck letters away. Not proper ones.


**


Today, I was talking to my cousin Hannah, about my responsible/mature/grownup plan for the summer and she was like "That sounds very noble, Sonya, but feel free to let yourself get away from that environment and have fun.. go for a roadtrip.." and I was like, yes. Yes. I hope to end up in Otago somehow, hopefully due to a hitchhiking adventure. 


In Year 13 English we had to write a letter to ourselves on the first day and get it back at the end of the year. Of course mine had that stuff like 'Study hard for schol exams, the end result will be worth it' (tick) and 'get top of English' (tick) and "whatever leadership position you get or don't get, I hope you gave it your all, helped a lot of people, and fought for the things you cared about," but it also had stuff like 'don't let your (....) or (...) influence you too much, they are full of opinions, many unqualified," and "Go placidly amidst the noise and haste," and "Be a free spirit. Hitch with Wilbur (TICK! South Island!). Skateboard a little. or a lot (FAIL). Be a young person.(Yeaaah? Year 13 was good)" 


I think that shows my life tension. Responsibility vs. free spirit


Get this handwriting under control.(FAIL)
Be assertive.(Still not very good at this)
Give God your whole heart. (Getting there, daily sacrifice, right?)
LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOUR. (Same as above, still human, still wrestling with how this should be done)
Get license. (EPIC FAIL.)
Go to a hippie festival or two.(Yes, if you count summer six. A lot of hairy-armpitted dreaded crochet-pocketed floaty women and marijuana wafting around)
Don't be scared of the future.(I'm not. I'm discovering more about myself each day through formal and informal means and am accepting myself; this helps with that future-acceptance stuff)


Gems from my seventeen-year-old self.


I don't want to place a huge priority on school, but want to do well. An 'almost excellence' I'll be fine with. (Exceeded this. Stoking. Sorted out my priorities, stopped putting my worth in school marks, got Excellence and Outstanding Schol)


Life goes on. I learn, I learn.

$3,742.33

From next year, the Student Loan Scheme is changing.

I can ONLY study for SEVEN years before the government will stop loaning me money. Except they might give me one more year for post-grad and up to three for doctorate. Of COURSE this makes perfect sense - there are so many people out there who just borrow borrow borrow and putting a cap makes sense. Seven years is a long time to get one qualification - but this is TOTAL UNDERGRAD STUDY in my LIFE!

ALSO, I have to pass half of this years papers otherwise I can't borrow anymore, unless I pass half of next years with my own money, and then prove to the government I am capable. This also makes sense. Of course I'll pass all my papers. This is a new rule from the government.

All this makes good economic sense! I just hate the thought of capping my learning! I want to learn forever! Obviously, I'll just have to pay for it myself, instead of depending on the government. This means working then  studying then working to raise money for study some more.

I am going to put this number: 3,742.33 in large letters somewhere prominent. Not to burden myself down with the thought of debt, but, a simple reminder that it is REAL debt, REAL money, owed to a real government. Most students I know just treat it as free money. GUESS WHAT? I don't need a loan next year if I save 3,000 this summer. The problem is I know that it is easier to get a loan than to figure all that out. 'Cause that money I could pay my fees with could also come in handy in.. living next year.

If I work hard at uni I might be able to get scholarships for more study. Anyway. Here's hoping. It is good to be sensible, and think about finance from a realistic point of view.

Yesterday I bought a concertina file and filed all my documents under such titles as ID, IRD, Insurance, Health, Housing, Driving, Banking, Financing Study, Tertiary, High School... etc. I felt so grownup, boring(?) and sensible, and wondered if any other eighteen year olds have concertina files like that. Then I realised it really didn't matter what anyone else was doing as long as my life was in order. I recycled a lot of paper yesterday. I love refining refining my STUFF and trying to simplify my belongings and papers. I like to do things that make sense. It makes sense to pay my own fees/part scholarship next year in order to free up maybe one more year of borrowing when I do post-grad or whatever. That would be smart. Instead of wasting my money on living.. cough.. entertaining/stuff..

I like my concertina file folder thing.

When I had my 'meeting' with Jackie, she said something interesting. 'Sonya, face it, you will be studying the rest of your life." I liked my self being analysed for an hour. It doesn't happen very often from expert people in pysch and stuff so I enjoyed it very much. And she said I had to accept this. Accept that God made me to think. To crave learning and knowledge. And she said I would go mad if I got married had kids and had zilch intellectual stimulation day to day. And I nodded. For everything Jackie told me I kind of knew. I just have to accept it and work hard. She said a lot of interesting things: "Sonya, you will not maintain the academic buzz if you do not have healthy rhythms." No essays at 2am. I need to learn the concept of workday.

Interesting, interesting. At night I  cover my bookshelf with a blanket. I have to turn off my mind. I love that 'social ecology' stuff. How environment affects us. My bedroom, when tidy, ordered, simple, helps me be calm and sleep well. To turn my brain off.

$3,742.33.  Definitely small compared to almost everyone I know, but its not about everyone else, eh. I could say: 'Don't worry Sonya, your loan is small, you can be frivolous here and there." But of course it is not about them. I should keep my loan small 'cause that is a wise thing to do. There's a good quote in proverbs: the borrower is servant to the lender (Proverbs 22:7) and of course I do not want to be enslaved in debt to anyone. I'm actually studying a bit about wisdom at the moment. Wisdom interests me. I want to be wise and to make good choices.

Today, I got my essay back. I got 28/30 which is A+. Yes, the essay was a couple of weeks late. This was because of the craziness that was the month away where I had basically had no access to computer/time to myself so it was actually impossible, among other random personal stuff. So Mick didn't mind my essay being late. A classmate expressed (justified) frustration that I did not lose marks for my lateness, when they had worked hard to make deadline. 

This reminded me of a lesson I learned at high school. I would also get frustrated when I worked hard to make deadline, got an Excellence, and other students who handed stuff in weeks late would get an Excellence also (which was against NZQA rules). But then I remember realising that it wasn't about them. Whether they got unfair grades really was not my problem. The fact that I did make deadlines meant I was learning and executing time management skills, and it was good for my character. Now we have left school do I still care that other people got the same grades with different rules? No. Some of those people are not doing so well now they must always make deadlines at university. 

It is not a competition against other people; (I am not really a competitive person, so this is easy for me to say) it is ensuring I do work to the best of my ability, that I am capable of. Long term, the question I should ask myself is: What am I doing with what I have been given? How am I utilising time, money, resources, my skills, talents, education to the ultimate purpose, and not being foolish or frivolous?

And God will ask me, surely, at the end of my life, What did you do with what was in your hands?

'Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much.' (Luke 16:10a)

Politics Schmolitics

I do find it more than mildly fascinating. Had an interesting lecture. All basic information, but I enjoy it anyway.

This morning while waiting to be picked up for class, I sat on the porch, and did my reading for class, multiple times. I decided that the book was the type that needs to be underlined, written all over and used well in order to really have an influence. Like the bible, kind of. Books in general, if well loved, should probably all look like that. Funny though, I haven't written my name in it yet.

Compliment of the day

Sonya, like a sweet butter chicken & beer by a warm fire on a cold winters night. Like chocolate fonduu (sic) & marshmellows, Like mum's rubab (sic) crumble
You are amazing.
PW.

I discovered this scrawled on the front of my exercise book when I went to class this morning. I love Peter.

White noise

'What are you listening to?'
I remove my headphones.
'It sounds like white noise.'
I listen to the noise coming from my headphones.
It was the music at the climax off this video. I find it calming. I have a clear head. But it is intrusive at the same time. But it is good.



I am trying to write an essay. I am writing the essay. I am frustrated, though, because the issues and ideas and everything are SO complex yet I have to be so simple. And since the essay is weeks overdue I just need to write anything and hand it in and go to bed.