Hand drawn illustrations

Redesign of under 5 children's book. Cover and one inside spread.

Red Cross Benefit Concert Poster and Invite

Nobilo Wines. Station Road label redesign

Mental Health Awareness pocket sized pull-out brochure

New Zealand Women's Weekly Magazine Lifestyle spreads

Inghams Packaged Chicken magazine adverts

Anglicans Trust for Women and Children dinner event advert

Anglicans Trust for Women and Children Prospectus

Samaung Instore Washing Machine Display

Samsung Instore Display Plinths

Nike Anti-Slave Labour Posters

Poster designs: Nike anti slave labour posters

Trash to Fashion Sponsorship Proposal

Trash to Fashion This had to be one of my favourite projects, whereby i had the chance to completely reinvent and redesign a significant art event in New Zealand - Trash to Fashion. Taking an initial visual identity design of sewing siluettes from a design studio, i decided to go all out and completely deviate from the previous year’s design. Using the last years photography, and lots of reds and recycled textures; i wanted to create a proposal that was lively, energetic, and fun, and that really reflected the creativity and energy behind a national arts event.

Taxi Driver

On a long easter weekend where i have not much to do, i woke up really late today, like about 3pm and cleaned up around the house, went for a walk, cooked dinner and ate it, and looked forward to my small event or attraction for the day which was to watch "Taxi Driver" directed by Martin Scorcese, featuring Robert DeNiro-back when he was a really good looking young man.

I liked that movie heaps, it's funny that every movie/story/song set in New York always include so much of the city as part of what it is. In a way, the plot IS of NYC, told through the eyes of a cab driver. But he's just the middle man, really the story is about New York, and less about him.

What does NY do to him? It drives him a little nuts. Well, first he's too smart and too deep for his taxi driving job. His surroundings, going to all the bad neighbourhoods including Harlem and Bronx, engulf him, and he smells it. There's two ways to go, let the shit city swallow you, or try to stick to your true self and do something good to regain some balance or satisfaction in your miserable boring taxi driving life. So, when his attempt at some more meaningful happiness with the blonde uptown Betsy doesn't work out. His next mindful yet somewhat accidental project and shot at something BIGGER in life was to save the young Iris (Jodie Foster) from falling too deep into the world of dirty dirty prostitution. He does this, and his life is fulfilled, not even Betsy was good enough for him anymore, and he didn't need her. He could feel more of a person simply by doing some small good deeds, rather then being in love with her.

That was a great story, told well, in some lost city. Finding some meaning and satisfaction in your routinely boring life- its not so much the act of gaining it that's hard, its figuring out WHAT would give you meaning and some sense of satisfaction. Well, i personally certainly wouldn't fall for religion, that's for sure. There are many other options.

Falling off the cliff

One nice story from a book i read once, was those few little pages about the title of the book. What happens is there's this cliff, and on the cliff are all these children playing in a big pretty field of rye. They're playing with a ball or something and playing catch, with their eyes and noses in the air. And they're so busy watching their game and watching their ball with their eyes upward that they don't notice when they fall off the edge of this cliff...to their death! So, the catcher in the rye is this boy, the main character...whose name i forget actually, Weatherfield or something. He is the young man standing at the edge catching all the children who falls,.. and in case they fall.

That was such a nice chunk of the book, it was significant for what the book was. Loosing yourself in the things you do, the things that occupy you, and all of a sudden, you fall! And never get back to the ryefield. Maybe it's like you loosing sense of yourself, or loosing sense of...the person you had wanted to become, or turn out. Instead, you got too busy, too distracted with all these other things, your direction diverted, you turned out completely different. Not what you had wanted, expected. Maybe you don't mind the way you turned out, but perhaps you could have been better if you'd stuck to your expectations. You'd have become the person you wanted at least. Gotta catch yourself before you fall off the cliff. Forget the stupid ballgame. Watch out for the cliff.

Time

Another entry, i think i really AM getting bored now. It's a mixture of fustration, and sometimes just thinking and reflecting too much. Too much time can be a curse.

Been thinking about time. I'm 24 now, and being a slightly practical person, i have all these plans til i'm 30. ANd i hope i stick to them, as they are definitely duable. But you know what i hate? Is the race against our age, to have to DO so much before this age, and be thinking about MARRIAGE before that age.

Would like to think that time is on my side, but then everything has a limit and it's this age clock that pushes people to do things. The scarry thing is i really count on time so much, the ONE thing i count on in fact. If time was a person, i'd trust that person the most. I assume i'd have a long life, and so much of time that i can chill and do everything slowly without pressure.

Once in a while though, you get fustrated because a little chunk of 'taught' reality creeps in, and you think. Ohh no, time, i'm wasting it. each week, each month, doing ...NOTHING, well something really, but nothing that COUNTS....in the eyes of society. So, are you wasting that time then? It sucks that everything has to counted to be noticed as you DOING stuff. Doing nothing is just as important, because you can't think if you're always doing something. Need to clear your head sometime, and build character.

That's all. I really dislike updating blogs actually, because i still think they're a little lame, but another curse...i really want to write what i feel down. But i'm so affected that i feel like writing without people reading them does not ACCOUNT for anything really. It's one of those...doing stuff but not REALLY doing stuff because no-one ever knows about it dilemas. I wish i could be just personal and not think of things this way, but i think i can't really help it. It's embedded in me somehow. Thus, i dislike it.

A Weta in my room

One night i was sewing something on my machine with the window open in front of me, and as i was sewing i glimpsed something large and crawly and ugly and i jumped up, knowing straight away it was an ugly creepy crawly insect. So i wanderd out of my room to the bathroom where the lethal RAID is. On the way i kind of yelled out something like "Fuck, there's a fucking large insect in my room!"

When i came back, my brother was here and he was like " It's a Weta" I'd never really seen a Weta before, it's actually quiet cool looking but ugly and very insect like in a way. I just didn't know how to get rid of it, wussy old me couldn't possibly pick it up! The only solution was death, so i got my RAID and sprayed. Now remember this: RAID is fucking strong, it blasts away cockroaches, the same insects that survive nuclear bombing, and one spray of it just into the atmosphere in your room, and with the door shut for about 8 minutes would kill all minor insects in that room-flies, moths, mosquitos. So i sprayed, and the Weta of course moved abit, but struggled, and before it got far (as in 2 steps) i sprayed again, and again. "DIE MOTHERFUCKER!" i yelled. Of course it would have been dead with the first spray, but no, i had to be a little typical girly idiot and spray half the bottle onto it. When i had stopped, we watched, it flinched, treid to move (but couldn't) it flinched some more, in fact uncontrollably for about a minute, it took a total of 50% of a step. RAID on an insect is like sulphuric acid on your entire body, just imagine that. The white acidic raid was still glued to its entire body, and after a minute of pure and immense pain, i'm sure, it died. Finally. AHHHHH, i'm such a bitch! And an idiot!

Really, i thought i had gotten over insects, even fairly big ones, and never seen ones, because insects are in actual fact, fascinating creatures, but i suppose i still don't understand. I felt bad about killing it, and my brother felt bad about me killing it. But it was so dead, and i took it outside rather then to the toilet, at least it'd feed back to nature.

Anyway, a couple of days later, i told a guy at work about this. In between me making 'market research' (ie call up people and annouy the shit out of them to complete an extremely UNinteresting survey) calls i told him " A weta came into my room the other night..." I paused, that was already half the story, so he replied with "What? Is that your story?" at which point i burst out laughing and couldn't stop because i thought that was really funny. And i finished the rest of the story with " And i blasted it dead with RAID."

The end, but really it was not a two sentence story, because this is the real story. The actions were short, but the whole event itself was something that involved: a shock, a death, a weapon, a killing, a killer and a victim, then guilt, by two people, and something kind of unjust and unlawful in between. So the story was lots more elaborate then that, the sequence of events seem short but it's what lies beneath!

The end.

The OC

I was rereading some of my past blog entries and i realised that the ones i enjoy reading the most are the ones that are not so much insights, but the ones in which i would severely diss something or someone!

Therefore, i've decided to enter another like it, cos it's actually way fun too. And i have chosen.......brom brom brom (drumroll) .......no other then........the (FUCKING) O.C , apparently stands for The Orange County, where many rich americans apparently live.

The O.C with all its blandly beautiful girls and such fucking wussy looking guys! (Never actually go out with in a million centuries) With melodramatic mums and even worse dads, strutting around in their humungous mansions with so much stuff (!) Does an average household actually NEED so much stuff? I would be worried if even close to 30% of people living in Orange County do actually own that much stuff. And ohh so many worries.

Let's see, those people are: young, expectedly and quiet boringly gorgeous, filthy rich, healthy, lots of proepects, have support from family, and have their whole life ahead of them... So what actually is the show about? Actually i've only watched a total of about 4 minutes of it in my life, but just the way it was set and the way they spoke (!) was enough to put me off it....FOREVER. I mean, do nomal people actually talk like that? With every third word being a 4 syllable word? The dialogue is way overdone, yeah, we get it , they're supposed to be promising young intelligent branded college wall street future of what american elite class stands for kids. Fuck! See you never hear them say that. And that's the smartist of them all, the word can be used as a noun, verb, adjective, adverb, all sorts.

ANyway, it's a pretty terrible show. The worst part of it all is that it actually took the world by storm. I think people don't so much watch it for the plot as such, but half of it is watching their lifestyle, their impossibly fake falsely portrayed lifestyle. All their stuff, clothes, guys, it's all there, just the actual life is missing that's all. And that's filled by the drama plots-that are only ever within their elite clique and are never anything major-like starving to death or anything to do with the REST of the god damn world. People aspire to it, and i think that's why they love it.

But really, you must know this. It is in fact, utter, total, and complete shit. It should be called THe O.C, standing for: The Offical Cocksuckers. That's the real name

Thankful to my parents

If there's one thing i am sincerely thankful of to my parents, it is that they had moved our whole family to New Zealand. I am not talking about the most obvious reasons like the fact that i can learn fluent english or that we can live this very comfortable (actually perhaps too comfortable) lifestyle. I am thankful about that too, that's for sure. But mostly, i am thankful to them because it is through moving to New Zealand that i could gain some kind of mental freedom that i do not think i would have gotten, or been exposed to, or had been insightful enough to figure out- if i had been raised in Hong Kong.

I have a friend who is in a real dilema, she has a boyfriend overseas and she is not getting younger (though she is still very young) and she is planning to go overseas to where her boyfriend lives, and marry him. This all sounds really good and a great plan really, however the only problem is, even though she does want to do this indeed because she does really love him, somewhere in the back of her mind-she wishes for another life, one entirely different. Where she does not even have a steady boyfriend who is a husband to be, and she does not have to move to another country to live forever- but instead she can be free to go out with any guy she wants for as long as she wants, and she can travel and work whenever and however she desires. Bascially, she'd be cut free from any strings attached, and she would be her own person making her own decisions and creating her own freedom.

So, in actual fact, what's stopping her? It is her upbringing, her entire family, her culture, the way she was brought up to think, everything that is her life and what she had been raised to value and believe. It is expected of her and she has so much to uphold. Those are the strings attached, tied since before she was born, and it would take a load of guts to untie them with your own bare hands. She is also essentially raised in New Zealand, and she saw the New Zealander's more free minded way of life, the lack of commitment, the independence you can have (and not be afraid to have it) and the feeling that you are NOT restricted by time; namely age. She sees this too, and she can fantasize about it but she dares not go for it, because it defys everything that had been taught to her by her family and her tradition.

This is why i am so lucky, my parents are very open minded, they understand change is impossible to avoid if you move to different country with different ways of thinking. I had become some kind of 'kiwi' kind of girl early on ....well actually not really i think..., but anywho,- even that wasn't enough to free my way of thinking, it was through actually going out, and having a long almost four year relationship with a New Zealand born and raised guy that i saw how this other kind of life could be possible. He lived in a flat alone and at twenty seven didn't even think about marriage, or worry about buying a house or 'career' prospects, and then at 28, 29, 30. It was fine for him and i respected that, infact almost admired that. To me, it seemed such a unique way of life and i wished i could do it. Get rid of the mental clockwork of age in my head and just do all the things i want without setting a clock so i have to do it all before 30 in order to be settled and married. Now i think, who cares, i'll start only considering about marriage when i hit 30 and just not worry myself with time. See i still am not totally free from it as i have only delayed it - but i do think it is a huge improvement to how i had thought.

Times are changing, and life is not about the things you get done and in what time you do them in, nor is it about getting to this one point where you are supposed to get to by a certain age, it's now more about all the freedom you have and what you choose to make out of it, and how you can and do - control it. I am thankful my parents brought me here, because i saw this other society construct, this expectation- unravel, loose its importance, because it is through seeing a different culture (ie of New Zealand) that i can be someone with their point of view also. So i can be outside looking in, to the rules of tradition that is from Hong Kong. If a typical kiwi New Zealander can be 30 years old and still be in a flat, free of commitments, with a happy job and still enjoying life, then why can't everyone else living on the same land do that too? They only have to be convinced of it to be able to do it, and i think through all these years of this other different culture, that i am convinced.

Hating university

God i hate university. The primary reason i know is that i'm just too fucking old for it. I am 24, and everyone are between 18 and 20. Bascially fresh out of highschool (and still acting it!), and there i was very old and mouldy out of highschool, in fact, i really have finished tertiary school apart from this one last god damn paper.

I know older people must have looked at me when i was a young kid like that and thought, "God, that girl is ridiculous" and i probably was as i acted just like those kids, escept back then i thought i was something else. Ohh yeah, i was way cool and full of worldly wisdom! But, now i look at those kids and i wince. They walk around in their fucking annouying little cliques and ugly fashionista clothes, talking about either crap or somthing very vain but potentially insightful, and they think they've discovered something. They think because of this one little puny thought about their society or world that now they understand the world. More then others, and they're just so fucking cool because of it. So, they would go and act the way they feel. Yes, i am cool, cold in fact, and i am thinking about the world, i see the shit that it is, i am a loner so i have to act it, portray it. Yep, i am a university student thus i am PART of something, something intellectual, something that it totally the future of the world, of New Zealand. We deserve respect because of this. And yep, my life is pain, just check out my solemn face and the cigerette in my hand. Ohh my god, please, don't try TOO hard to externalise yourself. Because we are really ALL paying attention to you, and give SO much of a shit.

That's why i hate university, young kids trying so hard to be noticed, to have character, to be wierd in some sense. When really the one understanding they all lack is that really, no one gives a shit. Everyone has characer, and you are one of an insignificant many. So just act normal, be normal, act young (ie be more curious and less smart) and get over yourself!

Bloody Straight Lines

My brother and i had a conversation over lunch today, it was on various things, but the common topic was human's evolution, more mental evolution then biological, though i do know that both are invariably linked.

I came up with the thought i had heard sometime ago from a friend who pointed out an artist- who had noticed that; the world ie nature (not the world WE create) has no straight lines. Nature has only curves. And perhaps this is why we humans now feel so tense, we are surrounded by bloody straight lines. The office, the home, frames, boxes. Straight lines feel like some kind of restriction. In film, straight lines are used in shots and mise-en-scenes to create tension in the scene/shot. This is a film technique and goes way back to the first 'Pycho' the Alfred Hitchcock version. See, that's why he was considered a revolutionary film-maker.

So, with this conversation in my head, i looked around our house and noticed (as if i hadn't noticed it before) that everything was just straight. All of a sudden, in front of my eyes, as if i had somehow disciphered the walls, doors, cupboards- into shapes- all i saw were lines, lines, and lines. All vertical-the most tense of them all. And i almost couldn't stand it, i looked outside, where the trees, leaves, grass all were being blown in the wind, it's curves swaying seemlessly left and right, backwards and forwards. There were no lines outside, only soft curves. The site itself, even for a few seconds, relaxed me.

Later i had to go to work, in a shitty office and there they were again, lines, beeping sound in my ears (because i do market research-suck job) and it was a nightmare. I feel very tense just thinking about it now, ahhh the straightness. Everything with a god damn edge. Framing you, and everything else. And i wonder, how can we humans stand this? How can/could we go through life day to day without noticing all these god damn lines in our environment, making us stress, tense, STRAIGHT, and just live through, without ever craving for curves? For nature? Nature, i am sure gives everyone comfort, a walk on the beach is a good example. But, it's like-how are we so blind we cannot see all the objects and shapes that MAKE us tense in the first place? Yet, we keep designing things that are straight?

Now that i have had one day of actually noticing this nightmare, i am afraid that it will persist, i know i have a lifetime of straight lines ahead of me, and i would rather be ignorant of seeing them then always seeing them, for i really don't want my life to be a nightmare.

Writing letters

Some nights, espeically recently, i just feel like typing something down somewhere. I've recently broken up with a boyfriend, so i suppose instead of my usual exchange of ideas with another person, the only way i can exchange anything is through the net, and even though it's not verbal, at least perhaps one of these days, someone will read it.

I remember when i was travelling last year, i had done most of it alone, and thus spent alot of time alone, and wondering the streets etc. I would have times when i would not really have spoken (at least not properly) to someone for several days, and as humans, i think it is in our nature to express outselves, in any way or form possible. To not be able to express ideas or thoughts is like keeping some strong energy inside of you, at least i feel that way. It's really not healthy i think, because its too much being kept and tossed around inside your head, you can turn a thought around over and over and if it persists, you find yourself getting a little bit lost in your own mind. It's like you would look at other people and somehow they seem more distant, you don't feel quiet natural to just chat with them, and it seems they all have something in common (some kind of normality-the same view of their surroundings) , but you don't have that commonality with them. By then, you've already retreived into yourself quiet alot.

Anyway, i would have days without talking to anyone, and then i would find or visit some beautiful place (as i was travelling, this often happened) and i would have this immense immense desire to share this place with someone. If only i could just pull someone off the street and say "Ohhh, isn't this place gorgeous? Beautiful?" Just one sentence to share my strong feeling, this would be enough for me. However, of course , there was no-one. And i would get lost in myself, i had to appreciate it really quietly, solemnly. So, what i would do, is i would write a letter. I would write a letter to home, to my boyfriend, anyone, and describe this gorgeous place i was at and how i was feeling, and all the thoughts going through my head at this point in time. And a couple of weeks later, when i had accumulated about ten pages, i would send them off, a couple of weeks after that, the receiver would get it.

See, my feelings about this place is being communicated, but only in a month or so's time. I sometimes think about it, that even though whatever i think is not REALLY expressed to anyone until a month's time, it was enough for me. It wasn't so much about wanting to share the place with someone, it was that i almost needed to, to write something down and express something was a small load off your head. You cannot absorb so much and not let it out. So it's kind of funny i guess, what i think and feel, travels to another time and place in the future. I know this as i write, that this 'sharing this gorgeous place' is only shared in a different time and space, but its ok. I could just imagine when my mum receives my letter, she would read it and her heart would reach out to me, and she would only have to imagine it a little bit to be able to visualise the gorgeous place and understand how i so appreciated it, and wanted to tell someone else about it.

About guys

What to post, see i've just spent the entire afternoon updating my blog, it's not really a diary but just these thoughts that are in these kind of essay forms that i post up in no particular order. So after posting up loads of kind of serious stuff, i'd like to post something real light. Which is this:
ALL THE FUCKING THINGS I HATE IN GUYS

1. Addidas sneakers and polo shirts, espeically ones with collars UP, O-so-cool!
2. Brain not quiet screwed on guys who think that everything a girl does, she does it cos...she's a chick! And that ohhh it's just how chicks do things, or that's just how chicks are, oh that's just how chicks think. Don't generalise each individual person to JUST their sex, thanks!
3. Fucking LARGE uneconomical , fuel wasting cars, am not impressed, espeically with some unpractical useless exhaust pipe that just polutes the city: with carbon dioxide and noise.
4. music blasting with hip hop like 50 cents- from the gutter, and the like
5. Guys that call girls : love, doll, darlin, even Babe.
6. Guys who think girls are just always naturally dumber
7. Talking , and actually having an entire conversation about....a product! Like: a phone, a flash car, these shoes, some other crap or other. A mention is ok, but not an entire conversation.
8. Men overseas who are like "ohh you poor single girl traveller, all alone in a foreign country, let me show you around and save you from lonliness in this big big foriegn place." ahhhh!
9. Guys who think " Ohh nice simple girl teaching piano, yeah that's your place, dont aim TOO fucking high" Ahhhhh again.
10. Dirty texts!

Boo Radley

There are loads of movies i've seen and really enjoyed, and more then one that are my favourite. But i think my favourite character from a movie (and a book too-but i liked him even more after the movie) was Boo Radley, from the black and white movie To Kill a MOcking Bird.

IN it, he saves main character-13 year old Jim and hides in their house while Jim's father Atticus and sister Scout fuss over him. Then Atticus asks Scout "Who brought you back? Who saved you?" And she was like, " Why a man just came out of nowhere fought the bad guy off and carried us home, why he's right behind the door infact."

And then the door shuts and Boo Radley is standing in the dark shadow, he moves to the corner where he can be as part of the wall as possible and not be acknowledged as a live person in the room. "Who're you?" Atticus asks. Camera zooms on Scout's face and she smiles "Hey, Boo."

Ahhhh, it was Boo Radley, THE actual Boo Radley finally appearing, so he WAS real, and the stories of him WERE true. The camera zooms to his face. He is blonde with this messy greasy hair,young, thin, a pointy nose, nice face shape-pointy chin and the kindest eyes. And he smiles at little Scout. As if the sight of her was the most satisfaction he'd ever had, as if he'd never seen another human quiet like a small child.

That scene made me melt, Boo and his gentle kindness. Ahh, he's cute too. I've got a crush on a fictional character, and that's Boo. Scout ends up escorting him home. What a buzz that would be! If you had never exited your home, never played with another child, and now that you're a grown man, a little child-a girl holds your hand and takes you home. It would be the best and most memorable walk you'd have ever taken in your entire life. Poor Boo, but i suppose his part in the book was only to prove a point. Somehow though, i felt for him more then anyone else.

That was a cool movie To Kill a Mocking Bird.

This movie i'd seen

I was watching this movie the other night, it was really accidental as i was just kind of chanel flipping, and came across the movie Girl, Interrupted with Winona Ryder and Angelina Jolie- back before she was famous. It's a pretty good movie i thought, about being crazy and specifically what it's like to be a girl and be crazy. (probably your mind dwel on different things with a crazy male)

And actually, none of the chracters were crazy at all, they were all just inexplicably very focused on one specific character flaw, that everything they do and think feeds to that, it's this never-ending cycle they cannot get out of. At the end of the movie, the narration tells something like; crazy isn't REALLY crazy, it's really some part of our personally- most likely a not so good part- amplified. An amplified part of our mind, our thoughts, that you can't control, no matter how you suppress it down. It just EATS at you.

This one girl in the movie, she was so fucked because her dad owns a chicken deli and he's fucked her all her life that she only eats chicken- and can only eat chicken alone, because having other people in the same room as her while she eats, to her is like many people taking a dump in the same room. It's revolting to her, i think her eating chickens makes her think of her dad fucking her, so she cannot eat with others in the room. It's too shameful. But she likes what her dad does, and she hates herself for liking it. So in the end she kills herself.

I really dont know my point to this whole entry, i hate it when i go on tangents. I think.., i was thinking about how the little crazy part in all of us is really some kind dissatisfaction about ourselves. Maybe it's something we think we should have done in our lives by now- but havn't, some person we think we should be-but are not, or some secret thought or wish we always have- but it's just so sick! That dissatisfacion with ourselves amplified, spreads to all these external things we do too. It no longer becomes this lingering back of our mind thought, but is always on the surface affecting everything we do and think! And god, it's a fucking pain yeah? When we sit down and think hard about it, we know we're pathetic. And i guess that's the pain, it drives you a little nuts like that, and you become a little crazy.

Anyway, that was a bad entry. Whatever- i'll just post it up anyway since i spent the past half hour thinking and writing it.

Dreadful thoughts!

In a very blogging mood, so i've decided to post loads today.

You always see in movies about each person having some kind of DEMON. Oooooo....what's that? A demon? Is it something you're really afraid of-like something literal or something that has not happened to you and you are very afraid it will someday, or some kind of terrible past that you cannot bring yourself to dig up agian, or some dirty perverted thought you always think about but hate yourself for thinking it because it's just ...not normal!

Demon is prabably just some word to sum up all those terrible things, it just puts it into a character, a person, like rolled into a ball so you could hate it even more, and it's easier to target, rather than hating and dreading so many things all over fucking the place.

For me i find that whenever i do have a so called low or downer period, one dreadful visual always goes through my head. It's almost as if i've subconsciously associated this visual with every feeling that is dread, misery, hatred, but actually most particularly dread. It's of that fucking long haired, unnatural moving, terrible sounding chick from the ring. Her voice like "ahhhhhh" I know it must be cliche, but man, everynight before i fall asleep, i would lay my head on the pillow, then i would sort of lean up a little and look around my room, to make sure she isn't here, lurking in the dark with me, sitting watching me, or crawling towards me. I sometimes check my closet for that freaky looking kid from the grudge. It's like she is the ball of every dreadful emotion i've ever had. She isn't even fucking real, but she only exists in my mind. I pray my eyes will never play tricks on me and make me actually SEE her. I think i'd have a heart attack.

But some days, or nights, you feel so much lower then your usual downer period that it scarrily exceeds that. Maybe it's hormones, or that time of the fucking month or what not, that i' ve been feeling particularly low these few days. Last night, i had trouble sleeping and as usual i looked up from my pillow to see if she was there, and funnily enough at that point i just didn't care. God, who the fuck cares? Its like, if she was there then at least it'd mean i can SEE my feeling of dread, i can actually externalise it somehow, and man that'd be better then keeping it in that small brain of mine. At least i can face what i feel, and that'd feel good. At least i'd not be alone in it, even if it was her, at least well she'd just be the same as me- a ball of dread and misery. At least then, the weight would be off, and the feeling can at least be converted to fear, which is better then whatever mood i was feeling at the time.

But of course, i'm not QUIET nuts enough to see her, so i got the unfortunate choice of just lying in bed thinking about it. Visualising my emotion in my head. Ahh.....i must be going insane. I thought of her; some ugly diamantled rabbit face; my big metal sewing scissors; and this strange curious visual of what it'd be like to run my brother's sharp stencil scalple along the bottom of your eyes, almost as if you're putting eyeliner on. I didn't want to do it of course and the thought made me shiver, but i just kept imagining it. Ouch! That would fucking hurt!

So i slept on and off, with all these visuals bouncing back and forth between the four walls of my room, me trapped in the same box! When i did sleep i slept sound, and when i didn't i would bolt right awake. I really really hope this shitty mood will blow over soon.

Praymatis story

I havn't blogged in awhile, i'm not sure what to write. When i'm not typing in something i can think of loads of stuff in fact so much so i can,t wait to type it all down, but when i'm in front of this damn formal like posting box, i kinda go abit blank...so here's a story.

One afternoon i was going outside to our backyard through our sliding door. I spot this praymantis just at the frame of the door, and i'm like "Ohhh you cute little thing, as good as you look, you really shouldn't be attempting to enter our living room." So i gently kicked it with my foot so it was on the outside of the doorframe.

The next morning i awake, and sit at lunch with my family, my mum tells us that that very morning she found a whole long trail of ants in our living room, and her first thought was that she thought i had annouyingly left some dirty plate or bowl out in the living room again. So she followed the ants.

And then, she told us that, to the contrary, it was a trail of ants leading to the sliding door to the yard. She opened the sliding door (as it had been bolt locked) and found trapped by the closed door- was a pregnant praymantis, her head was sticking out to the garden outside, and her big pregnant stomach was trapped and semi squashed by the sliding door. While she had been trapped there all night, a long trail of ants had crawled into her tummy and ate all her babies or eggs in her womb. She was trapped, so there was nothing she could do about it.

My first reaction was "Ohh my god!" And i mean ohhh fuck, the poor poor insect. I imagined instantly the pain of insects eating at the inside of your stomach, eating away at all your little babies, and the desperation you must feel because your poor babies were being eaten and there was nothing you could do about it! Ohhh my fucking god indeed! Ahhh...the thought is too cruel on behalf of nature. I felt bad, if only i'd left the gorgeous insect alone, or actually bothered to take it RIGHT out to the yard rather then very lazily kicked it with my stupid food, trying to be heroic and smart.

I mean, do insects have feelings? Surely, they must feel the pain of that? And even if praymantises do kill the male right after mating, surely there is still a bond between the mother and the unborn? Even if they are insects, wouldn't it be just nature to have such a bond? I really dont know, and lazy old me i wont bother to read it up, but i suppose i'll wonder about it and ask around abit. I wish i knew an insect geek, that'd be handy.

So there's the story, i began right away to try to convince myself that it wasn't my fault because it was trying to get in, we couldn't just LET a large praymantis like that into the house, i had to kick it out. It just let itself back in on its own. So i'm not the killer, it was really just nature i guess. But actually, i know i'm responsible. All that is just me being a coward and avoiding responsibility. Murderer i am! Yes that's fucking right!

Anyway, my mum had put the poor thing in a plastic bag and i went and checked it out, hoping it was still alive and that i could maybe save it somehow. But it was so very dead. I didn't give it a burial, just left it there to be thrown in the trash.

Its getting warmer

Hey! The weather is getting warmer and warmer, its time to shave those legs (and armpits) and its time to put away the big dreary dark coats and take out all the various colours of cardigans to wear. You can winde your windows down in the morning, and enjoy the sun in your lunchbreak. Also, its the perfect season to wear almost whatever you like cos not TOO hot and not TOO cold, you can get away with abit of winter and a bit of sunner. A change of weather means a change of hairstyle, me i'm growing my hair long for the summer, and will cut it short again for the winter. Also, weather changes bring about new possibilities, new things you can do, new people you may meet because of those new activities. And, it is a good time to think about the long end of year break, and to start planning a perfect non wasted break. All in all, everything's looking up, theres much to look forward to. So embrace the slow change and enjoy this time!

sheena