Hi, God. I have slept little this past week. I am hungry, and once again I cannot sleep. It is like all I think about is culture, and New Zillund, and what makes everything the way it is. I plan university timetables and analyse the sexual politics of strangers at 3am. I read North and South and get progressively worse at empathy. This last week I have slid down hills in the dark, watched a boat in the middle of the ocean and thought it looked very much like a house. I have drunk cocktails from teapots and ran so fast I felt like I couldn't breathe, just to avoid paying a ten dollar door charge. I have even been abrupt to strangers! Well, one stranger. And he was drunk. But I normally find it very hard to be abrupt to strangers.
God, it is not that I am sick of thinking about the world. It is that I have been analysing how this thinking is sometimes detrimental to my interactions. My thinking is going so fast that my mouth cannot keep up with it. It has been suggested I talk so fast that it is clear I do not actually want people to understand me, and I have been told, repeatedly, that that is a very rude thing to do, young lady. I think so fast that my pen cannot keep up. In turn, my handwriting is so bad that even high school boys scorn it, and teachers have suggested I would fail because of it. I think so fast and so much that I cannot sleep. This is why I am on here. I also think fast and find everything so interesting that I have a bad attention span and get easily distracted. Focus is an issue. I am not saying any of this thinking is overly brilliant (there's my kiwi disclaimer, I don't want to be a tall poppy, now) but that it is just a consequence of a continually ticking brain. A lot of my thinking is menial, so very very practical, things to do and orders to do them in, but more so it is thinking about a lot of stuff to do with the identity and culture of New Zealand. I especially think a lot about how I want to speak better, to talk properly, but I am not quite sure how, as I am so entrenched in my own culture.
It frustrates me that I am so obsessed with my own country, God. It does because it means I could do the same to anywhere else. It frustrates me, a little, that I have not really left it, yet, and while I am the master of my own soul, external factors have also contributed to me not having really experienced the wider world, just yet. There will be a time. I just feel like it needs to be soon in order to not lose perspective. I fear doing a degree that is inherently Kiwi because I am so interested in it, when really I am just as fascinated with American culture, but it is slightly more far away. I am intrigued with everything, and my world, but my reality is very New Zealand which means I tend to pursue it relentlessly.
If I were honest, and I try to be, I would admit that I think a lot about myself. New Zealand is a part of myseld, and by understanding New Zealand, I understand how I am, well, me. I am constantly seeking to understand. I want to know! Everything! But I am so fascinated with identity and culture that it becomes self-obsessed. What makes us human? What makes me a New Zealander? What is cool? Elysia and I had an amazing chat about the concept of cool the other day. But my constant thinking, the daily grind of the mind doing this can be self-destructive, even self-obsessed. That is an embarrassing thing to admit on the internet.
You see, God, I am ashamed of myself this year. Especially when talking to you. Because, at the start of the year, I feel, I think, that my eyes were re-opened and re-reminded about others, others, others, poor, love, disenfranchised, marginalised, alongsiding, others, others, others. That stuff was deep in my heart, I cried! I cried in that lecture. And the next one. Now it sits in the back of my head, my 'back brain' as Marty liked to call it, the subconscious. Instead of being so pressing, pressing, pressing, like I feel it was to Jesus, it just is this good knowledge I have about what I ought to do. I could reason for hours, to myself, that I have little opportunity for it, at the moment, due to a million different factors. Perhaps that is true. Perhaps it is not true. Either way, it is an excuse.
God, I feel like this all will be okay if next year I apply this theology proper. Right now I am studying applying theology. Is real life when I apply it? I feel like this is not real life. But I cannot rest with the promise of next year. Next, next, later. Shakespeare said: 'I do not know why yet, I live to say, this things to do, since I have cause, and will, and strength, and means to do it.' That quote lives in my head. I do worry a lot. But it is always about myself. My own future, my own money issues, housing issues, job issues. How pathetic.
I do not like this post because I have not come to any conclusions. One of the things I loved about exams was the buzz of speed-writing that conclusion, going, HECK YES I NAILED THAT ESSAY and that conclusion is so true because it has been argued. Conclusions conclusions.
I am ashamed to post this but I will anyway.
Going to Hawke's Bay is good for me because its not about me, at all. It is all about the family unit, and the church unit, and the town and the society unit and the pack mentality. The talk is of the Hawke's Bay unit. There is no space for thinking about myself. I don't remember thinking about myself much until this year. I can hear my grandfather saying 'the devil finds work for idle hands.' Yeah, idle hands leads to busy brains. Whatever.
God, why was there an earthquake? Why did I not talk to the sad-faced man sitting on the fence with a trolley and a sleeping bag? Oh yes, God, I smiled at him, and he smiled back. I gave him a really big smile with teeth and crinkly eyes: I wanted to make him happy! But God, why did I just walk home and not talk to him? Have I succumbed to the 'there's nothing you can do' bullshit? Maybe I have. Sorry, God. Tomorrow is a new day. God, they say you speak in the stillness. So God, I'm going to have to ask you to turn off my brain. God, why do you keep providing me with finances? God, I would like to go to college in America. Not funny, Sonya. God, I'm sorry for not trusting You. But I have such a part to play.
I'm so selfish. Bye God. I'll see you tomorrow? I think we need a proper date. Let's just pretend we're a daily couple going through the daily grind and getting a bit self-centred. No, not you of course! You probably don't even have a word for self, in whatever your language is. Do you have a language? But say we were a couple, and that a date is what we need to remind each other (Read: me) of the beauty of the OTHER. I know this is a terrible analogy, cheesy, incorrect on a theological level and horrible. But I am human, God. And I'm sick of thinking.
Okay, God, I'm out. I'm sorry for being selfish. It's all about you, and others, eh. Oh I can write those words so easily.
Tuesday, 7 September 2010
Sunday, 29 August 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, 28 August 2010
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.
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.
Friday, 27 August 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, 25 August 2010
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.
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.
Friday, 20 August 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, 19 August 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, 15 August 2010
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...
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.
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.
Saturday, 14 August 2010
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.
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.
Friday, 13 August 2010
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 ;)
Thursday, 12 August 2010
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.
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.
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.
Monday, 9 August 2010
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 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.
Sunday, 8 August 2010
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.
My blog has been relatively serious lately.
Saturday, 7 August 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, 4 August 2010
$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.
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.
Monday, 2 August 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, 1 August 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, 29 July 2010
My friend, Armitage.
I met this fellow in Year 12, or maybe it was Year 11. My teacher loved him. I remember excited discussions as the class discovered him more and more and I remember loving how he says things so bluntly yet so beautiful. I've kind of came to view his work as having a cruel, heartless emotion behind it, but I love it, because there still is feeling, but this drawn out distance. Like his poem about killing a hitcher, but its ambiguous as to whether it was just a fantasy. And Gooseberry Season, and November, and My father thought it bloody queer and Mother, any distance greater than a single span and Poem and The Shout and the one that starts 'Tricked into life with a needle and knife.. and so much more. And hardly any are online.
If I were to own any book I would want Book of Matches.
I've made out a will; I'm leaving myself
to the National Health. I'm sure they can use
the jellies and tubes and syrups and glues,
the web of nerves and veins, the loaf of brains,
and assortment of fillings and stitches and wounds,
blood - a gallon exactly of bilberry soup -
the chassis or cage or cathedral of bone;
but not the heart, they can leave that alone.
the jellies and tubes and syrups and glues,
the web of nerves and veins, the loaf of brains,
and assortment of fillings and stitches and wounds,
blood - a gallon exactly of bilberry soup -
the chassis or cage or cathedral of bone;
but not the heart, they can leave that alone.
They can have the lot, the whole stock:
the loops and coils and sprockets and springs and rods,
the twines and cords and strands,
the face, the case, the cogs and the hands,
but not the pendulum, the ticker;
leave that where it stops or hangs.
**
'Boy with the name and face I don't remember,
you can stop shouting now, I can still here you."
Wikipedia says he is known for his 'critical seriousness'. It is all serious, but I like it.
Today was amazing.. talking to Jackie for the strengths finder = wow wow wow.
the loops and coils and sprockets and springs and rods,
the twines and cords and strands,
the face, the case, the cogs and the hands,
but not the pendulum, the ticker;
leave that where it stops or hangs.
**
'Boy with the name and face I don't remember,
you can stop shouting now, I can still here you."
Wikipedia says he is known for his 'critical seriousness'. It is all serious, but I like it.
Today was amazing.. talking to Jackie for the strengths finder = wow wow wow.
I miss having a bed.
Yeah, I really do. Crawling onto a messy mattress just isn't as restful. You can't sit up in it all cuddly and be on your laptop. I miss a bed. I'm almost tempted to somehow get a double in my wee room just cause a bed a bed a bed a bed a bed
Wednesday, 28 July 2010
Happier note: A Poem I like A LOT, stolen from Luke's blog
Past One O’Clock written by Russian poet Vladimir Mayakovsky.
This poem was found among Mayakovsky’s papers after his suicide on April 14, 1930. He had used the middle section, with slight changes, as an epilogue to his suicide note.
Past one o’clock. You must have gone to bed.
The Milky Way streams silver through the night.
I’m in no hurry; with lightning telegrams
I have no cause to wake or trouble you.
And, as they say, the incident is closed.
Love’s boat has smashed against the daily grind.
Now you and I are quits. Why bother then
To balance mutual sorrows, pains, and hurts.
Behold what quiet settles on the world.
Night wraps the sky in tribute from the stars.
In hours like these, one rises to address
The ages, history, and all creation.
The Milky Way streams silver through the night.
I’m in no hurry; with lightning telegrams
I have no cause to wake or trouble you.
And, as they say, the incident is closed.
Love’s boat has smashed against the daily grind.
Now you and I are quits. Why bother then
To balance mutual sorrows, pains, and hurts.
Behold what quiet settles on the world.
Night wraps the sky in tribute from the stars.
In hours like these, one rises to address
The ages, history, and all creation.
The Bedbug and selected poetry, translated by Max Hayward and George Reavey. Meridian Books, New York, 1960
Thoughts of a sleepy/on caffeine pills and stoked on interesting classes, Sonya Jasmine
Things that aren't cool: man outside my bedroom door at 7.30am checking the filter of the HRV thing when I only went to bed at 5.30.
So, last night, this morning, had some good old chats with my good friend Taylor. And he kind of made me aware/I became more aware through conversation that I have become quite negative about my future over the course of.. leaving school! Since leaving school. Well it actually went something like this 'me do long rant about how I'm gonna end up teaching English in a NZ high school etc etc and how I'm gutted but actually actually what else will my BA do?' and there's a pause and a 'Sonya, that's very negative.' Yes! I am shocked to acknowledge in myself that I don't see my future as bright or sparkly as I did a year ago!
I had some pretty crazy and exciting dreams in my final year, of what life after school would look like. Things I would/did would like to do include starting a sustatinable/co operative, publishing books of epic poetry etc etc but now I'm like, really, Sonya?
Why? Why is this? I could attribute this to being a boring adult. Paying bills and budgets and time constraints and a lot of this year is self awareness and I'm realising my lack of self-discipline means I don't work as hard as I should do therefore I won't get far. Oh that's so negative! So accepting of a fate which actually isn't fate! I can change this! I need to! The Bible is big on making good use of what you have - I have skills and time yet, does my use of time reflect my core values? I really really like that thought. No, I didn't think of it. No, my use of time often doesn't reflect my core values.
Think. I now do not really associate writing with my identity. Taylor and I established this is probably because as time passes from high school achievements and stuff that gave me cred, you have less to say to people if they ask. Like the gap between high school where smart kids have a lot of achievements and then the gap of say ten years or more until you actually start achieving. Like as an undergraduate there's little recognition to be had for years but thats the point - its where the work work work has to come in. But there's the risk of losing your dreams because this stage of life requires a great deal of self-motivation as the rewards are a long long way away
IF if after I do my BA and probably some post-grad or whatever.. IF IF IF I go.. oohh i should go to teachers college now cause thats secure and safe and IF IF IF I end up teaching at a local high school at like age 20-something and IF IF IF I just acccept that is my lot in life and have a kid and get married and COMPLETELY LOSE THE BELIEF I CAN soooooooaaaarrrr! can all youu readers PLEASE PLEASE okay well ya knooww you probably won't but this is just a cry to the Sonya within - DON'T LOSE THE PASSION, GIRL.
Don't lose the belief you can do great things! Work, girl! Taylor was like 'Sonya, 8 months and you've finished just ONE poem?' That is shockiing. It is, right, when I consider writing important to me and to life and to the world and to art and to part of my lifes purpose. BUT this year doing the Jesus stuff is so so useful and beautiful and amazing but
DON'T LOSE THE NAIVETY YOU CAN CHANGE THE WORLD
I don't actually have any intentions to actually change the world, but to go far far beyond what people say is possible or my background says can be done or to succumb to mediochrity or just floooaat and not make an IMPACT and
oh, Sonya, my dear friend
go home and do your essay
and don't you dare let life pass you by
Don't you dare be cynical about your OWN future
ESPECIALLY when so many people have always BELIEVED in you
when circumstance said things weren't possible
Look where you are now! tertiary study! Three years ago that wasn't an option.
I got up at 9 had breakfast, a no doze (caffeine pill), went to an exciting class where we discussed pokies and crime rates in New York and abortion and broken windows theory, skipped down the corridors, often running, ate lunch, and more lunch and DEBATED stuff (its been a whiiile) and and here I am
Don't you dare settle for mediochrity, Miss Sonya. Especially when people believe in you. Remember what Mrs. Taylor wrote in your history book on the last day of school. Remember the words of your teachers. Remember how they believed in you! How they saw themselves in you and told you so! Remember the radical lengths they went to to help you have the same opportunities as others! Remember, remember
I remember the night Gerard and I hit the realisation we won't live ordinary lives
despite perceived circumstance
It was a beautiful moment
I love catching Mick's eye and he knows exactly what I'm thinking. Goofy grins and crinkly eyes.
As we walked down the stairs he was like 'Sonya. People have lost the value of doing a BA to learn how to learn. They try to equate everything with jobs.'
So, last night, this morning, had some good old chats with my good friend Taylor. And he kind of made me aware/I became more aware through conversation that I have become quite negative about my future over the course of.. leaving school! Since leaving school. Well it actually went something like this 'me do long rant about how I'm gonna end up teaching English in a NZ high school etc etc and how I'm gutted but actually actually what else will my BA do?' and there's a pause and a 'Sonya, that's very negative.' Yes! I am shocked to acknowledge in myself that I don't see my future as bright or sparkly as I did a year ago!
I had some pretty crazy and exciting dreams in my final year, of what life after school would look like. Things I would/did would like to do include starting a sustatinable/co operative, publishing books of epic poetry etc etc but now I'm like, really, Sonya?
Why? Why is this? I could attribute this to being a boring adult. Paying bills and budgets and time constraints and a lot of this year is self awareness and I'm realising my lack of self-discipline means I don't work as hard as I should do therefore I won't get far. Oh that's so negative! So accepting of a fate which actually isn't fate! I can change this! I need to! The Bible is big on making good use of what you have - I have skills and time yet, does my use of time reflect my core values? I really really like that thought. No, I didn't think of it. No, my use of time often doesn't reflect my core values.
Think. I now do not really associate writing with my identity. Taylor and I established this is probably because as time passes from high school achievements and stuff that gave me cred, you have less to say to people if they ask. Like the gap between high school where smart kids have a lot of achievements and then the gap of say ten years or more until you actually start achieving. Like as an undergraduate there's little recognition to be had for years but thats the point - its where the work work work has to come in. But there's the risk of losing your dreams because this stage of life requires a great deal of self-motivation as the rewards are a long long way away
IF if after I do my BA and probably some post-grad or whatever.. IF IF IF I go.. oohh i should go to teachers college now cause thats secure and safe and IF IF IF I end up teaching at a local high school at like age 20-something and IF IF IF I just acccept that is my lot in life and have a kid and get married and COMPLETELY LOSE THE BELIEF I CAN soooooooaaaarrrr! can all youu readers PLEASE PLEASE okay well ya knooww you probably won't but this is just a cry to the Sonya within - DON'T LOSE THE PASSION, GIRL.
Don't lose the belief you can do great things! Work, girl! Taylor was like 'Sonya, 8 months and you've finished just ONE poem?' That is shockiing. It is, right, when I consider writing important to me and to life and to the world and to art and to part of my lifes purpose. BUT this year doing the Jesus stuff is so so useful and beautiful and amazing but
DON'T LOSE THE NAIVETY YOU CAN CHANGE THE WORLD
I don't actually have any intentions to actually change the world, but to go far far beyond what people say is possible or my background says can be done or to succumb to mediochrity or just floooaat and not make an IMPACT and
oh, Sonya, my dear friend
go home and do your essay
and don't you dare let life pass you by
Don't you dare be cynical about your OWN future
ESPECIALLY when so many people have always BELIEVED in you
when circumstance said things weren't possible
Look where you are now! tertiary study! Three years ago that wasn't an option.
I got up at 9 had breakfast, a no doze (caffeine pill), went to an exciting class where we discussed pokies and crime rates in New York and abortion and broken windows theory, skipped down the corridors, often running, ate lunch, and more lunch and DEBATED stuff (its been a whiiile) and and here I am
Don't you dare settle for mediochrity, Miss Sonya. Especially when people believe in you. Remember what Mrs. Taylor wrote in your history book on the last day of school. Remember the words of your teachers. Remember how they believed in you! How they saw themselves in you and told you so! Remember the radical lengths they went to to help you have the same opportunities as others! Remember, remember
I remember the night Gerard and I hit the realisation we won't live ordinary lives
despite perceived circumstance
It was a beautiful moment
I love catching Mick's eye and he knows exactly what I'm thinking. Goofy grins and crinkly eyes.
As we walked down the stairs he was like 'Sonya. People have lost the value of doing a BA to learn how to learn. They try to equate everything with jobs.'
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
Things I don't like about myself
I can only do one thing at a time! Like tasks. I have three things to achieve this week. Yet I will be unproductive if I don't do them one at a time until completion.. Who are these multitaskers? I just don't function that way.
Focus! What is focus? I am forever trying to learn more things. I am understanding myself better this year. I did that test and got input 'collecting ideas and thoughts and knowledge and quotes' as my number one strength. This can be a problem. Like I will be lying down in the dark trying to sleep and just think but oh! I must learn something before I sleep! And I will read a poem or something and then of course the ideas just swirl in my head and won't go away
In the same test it was like: 'accept the constant mental hum'. Oh yeah? Accept it! How do I rest from.. myself?
Focus! What is focus? I am forever trying to learn more things. I am understanding myself better this year. I did that test and got input 'collecting ideas and thoughts and knowledge and quotes' as my number one strength. This can be a problem. Like I will be lying down in the dark trying to sleep and just think but oh! I must learn something before I sleep! And I will read a poem or something and then of course the ideas just swirl in my head and won't go away
In the same test it was like: 'accept the constant mental hum'. Oh yeah? Accept it! How do I rest from.. myself?
Friday, 23 July 2010
Monday, 19 July 2010
I have actually never been more lost in my life.
But I know, I know I know I know that I will not give up my faith. Walking away is not an option.
So then, what? What am I still sure of?
You know, God, it would be really really nice if you could be here right now. Oh, I know you're here, that's not what I mean. But like be really obviously here. Ya know. With a cup of tea and a beard or whatever it is you do.
But I know, I know I know I know that I will not give up my faith. Walking away is not an option.
So then, what? What am I still sure of?
You know, God, it would be really really nice if you could be here right now. Oh, I know you're here, that's not what I mean. But like be really obviously here. Ya know. With a cup of tea and a beard or whatever it is you do.
Sunday, 11 July 2010
Shattered.
I am shattered. Spiritually, emotionally, physically, heart, mind, body, toes, fingers. I cannot sleep, I am continually told to eat more.
I tried to have a bath but somehow the whole whanau ended up in the bathroom. Privacy can be an issue.
The worst bit is I cannot feel, only think. Its like the opposite of what my faith used to be.Of who I used to be. And I feel like I have been strange recently.Even when I sleep I am not sleeping, I am thinking.
I vomited on the bus. It can be dehumanising clutching a toilet on a bus, on the ground. I had a beautiful moment, though, with two cups of tea and A Book of Luminous Things, sitting in a truckstop diner on state highway 2. I think that is the most beautiful book of poetry I have ever read or owned.
I came home and looked through the stuff I left behind. I felt like I was meeting a different person. The framed picture of his family on the bookshelf. The favourite children's books, my Plunket record, describing a lovely baby girl. School yearbooks. Everything here is the same. Almost. The stuff God put on my heart years ago to do is now being done by others.
Jesus, fill me. Please. I want to cry. I do not know how anymore. I am enjoying my newly bald, affectionate brother who has the biggest heart and one of the bravest hearts too.
Galveston Bay, Bruce Springsteen. Beautiful. Thank you, Taylor :)
Going back to bible college? My head is fractured enough as it is.
Lord! Spirit! Jesus! Take me to the place where we first met.
I tried to have a bath but somehow the whole whanau ended up in the bathroom. Privacy can be an issue.
The worst bit is I cannot feel, only think. Its like the opposite of what my faith used to be.Of who I used to be. And I feel like I have been strange recently.Even when I sleep I am not sleeping, I am thinking.
I vomited on the bus. It can be dehumanising clutching a toilet on a bus, on the ground. I had a beautiful moment, though, with two cups of tea and A Book of Luminous Things, sitting in a truckstop diner on state highway 2. I think that is the most beautiful book of poetry I have ever read or owned.
I came home and looked through the stuff I left behind. I felt like I was meeting a different person. The framed picture of his family on the bookshelf. The favourite children's books, my Plunket record, describing a lovely baby girl. School yearbooks. Everything here is the same. Almost. The stuff God put on my heart years ago to do is now being done by others.
Jesus, fill me. Please. I want to cry. I do not know how anymore. I am enjoying my newly bald, affectionate brother who has the biggest heart and one of the bravest hearts too.
Galveston Bay, Bruce Springsteen. Beautiful. Thank you, Taylor :)
Going back to bible college? My head is fractured enough as it is.
Lord! Spirit! Jesus! Take me to the place where we first met.
Saturday, 3 July 2010
I am here.
Where do I start to reflect? It has been suggested I start off the trip, off the page. I feel quite in limbo. Limbo is one of my favourite poems. By Seamus Heaney of course. I remember reading this to the class and writing angry essays against why a Church would do this when Jesus started off in love. Same thing today, huh.
Fishermen at Ballyshannon
Netted an infant last night
Along with the salmon.
An illegitimate spawning,
A small one thrown back
To the waters. But I'm sure
As she stood in the shallows
Ducking him tenderly
Till the frozen knobs of her wrists
Were dead as the gravel,
He was a minnow with hooks
Tearing her open.
She waded in under
The sign of the cross.
He was hauled in with the fish.
Now limbo will be
A cold glitter of souls
Through some far briny zone.
Even Christ's palms, unhealed,
Smart and cannot fish there.
So over this time I am in limbo. I don't think I am in a cold glitter of souls in some far briny zone but it would not surprise me if that were true. Because my head is full of things and thoughts that must must be turned into action but there are so many. If I were to become all of this I would be a vegan part-time worker in some literary thing spending the rest of my time with the poor (bivocationalism, downward mobility etc etc. new words in my vocab) and I would never never eat bananas. But then I ponder things like the SPIRIT like like like
I don't know I don't know
I am looking forward to moving to Wellington next year but I am becoming uncertain at my leaving and leaving
It is more that we, I, us, desire depth not breadth in our friendships
and yes.
And a book closed yesterday. Someone held a giant pen and wrote on the earth a nice ending to a novel that will come out in small portions in this girls poetry in the future. And the book closed when the girl and the boy or the woman and the man walked apart, one towards government and one towards the train station. Pick which one you would like. And there was nothing more to say. And there was nothing more to do. And there was nothing more to stew over, to think or ponder on, for some would say it is finished. And one floated one way and one floated another. But here they are. Now. Apart and finalised. It is funny how life turns out. I like where my life is going. And so did the man who walked to the train station. But they still must part ways. And they did.
I'm not sure if I'm homeless tomorrow night but whatever.
Today I was walking down a giant fleet of steep bushy concrete steps when I heard my phone yelling and a voice saying Tom had died. I told my parents never to scare me that way again for I was walking down a giant fleet of slippery concrete steps on Garden Road and they KNOW there are too many Toms.
I cooked beef stew for fourty people. I like that I am capable but I do not like that I cannot drive. I like herbs and I like that this house is full of books. I want God to fill me up and up so that I burst over and I wish my throat was not so sore.
Most of all I am behind in my academic work but I will get to that.
I am getting my nose pierced which I like. My brother shaved his head today.
I will end this now for it makes no sense. I hope you enjoyed this.
Dear Asian spammers, please stop commenting my blog with random proverbs.
Fishermen at Ballyshannon
Netted an infant last night
Along with the salmon.
An illegitimate spawning,
A small one thrown back
To the waters. But I'm sure
As she stood in the shallows
Ducking him tenderly
Till the frozen knobs of her wrists
Were dead as the gravel,
He was a minnow with hooks
Tearing her open.
She waded in under
The sign of the cross.
He was hauled in with the fish.
Now limbo will be
A cold glitter of souls
Through some far briny zone.
Even Christ's palms, unhealed,
Smart and cannot fish there.
So over this time I am in limbo. I don't think I am in a cold glitter of souls in some far briny zone but it would not surprise me if that were true. Because my head is full of things and thoughts that must must be turned into action but there are so many. If I were to become all of this I would be a vegan part-time worker in some literary thing spending the rest of my time with the poor (bivocationalism, downward mobility etc etc. new words in my vocab) and I would never never eat bananas. But then I ponder things like the SPIRIT like like like
I don't know I don't know
I am looking forward to moving to Wellington next year but I am becoming uncertain at my leaving and leaving
It is more that we, I, us, desire depth not breadth in our friendships
and yes.
And a book closed yesterday. Someone held a giant pen and wrote on the earth a nice ending to a novel that will come out in small portions in this girls poetry in the future. And the book closed when the girl and the boy or the woman and the man walked apart, one towards government and one towards the train station. Pick which one you would like. And there was nothing more to say. And there was nothing more to do. And there was nothing more to stew over, to think or ponder on, for some would say it is finished. And one floated one way and one floated another. But here they are. Now. Apart and finalised. It is funny how life turns out. I like where my life is going. And so did the man who walked to the train station. But they still must part ways. And they did.
I'm not sure if I'm homeless tomorrow night but whatever.
Today I was walking down a giant fleet of steep bushy concrete steps when I heard my phone yelling and a voice saying Tom had died. I told my parents never to scare me that way again for I was walking down a giant fleet of slippery concrete steps on Garden Road and they KNOW there are too many Toms.
I cooked beef stew for fourty people. I like that I am capable but I do not like that I cannot drive. I like herbs and I like that this house is full of books. I want God to fill me up and up so that I burst over and I wish my throat was not so sore.
Most of all I am behind in my academic work but I will get to that.
I am getting my nose pierced which I like. My brother shaved his head today.
I will end this now for it makes no sense. I hope you enjoyed this.
Dear Asian spammers, please stop commenting my blog with random proverbs.
Someone else's good lyrics
I like songs about drifters, books about the same. They both seem to make me feel a little less insane. Walked on off to another spot. Still haven't got anywhere that I want.
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