I've been thinking:

We all need a little motivation sometimes to get through things, or to get things done. Rewards, bribes, incentives - if they make something more achievable or worthwhile, then I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing.

Sure, sometimes we can lie to ourselves and say we’ve earned a reward when we really haven’t. And sometimes we should just do things because they need to be done, incentive or no. But I’ve been thinking about the different sorts of incentives there are.

Sometimes people make deals - my Mum has told my Dad he’s allowed to go to Australia to watch the rugby once their lounge has a floor again - it currently looks like this.

Now, is this a bribe, or an incentive? I personally think it seems like a win-win situation.

I know I make deals with myself all the time: “If you finish sending those emails then you can check Twitter”; “If you wait until 3pm then you can have some chocolate”, etc. I like giving myself incentives - like deadlines, I sometimes find them a necessary motivation to get things done. Or, in some cases, the necessary motivation to not do certain things (“You want to get up tomorrow & feel awesome? Don’t have that next glass of wine”).

Often I’m the only one that knows I’ve given myself an incentive to do something - sometimes it can be helpful to share them with other people, so they can help hold you to account when you waiver in your commitment.

But if no one else knows, what is there to stop you from cheating? Sometimes nothing. But often even when I don’t tell other people, I feel the pressure to uphold my end of the deal to myself - it feels just as bad to let yourself down as it does to let down others.

Sometimes it’s not so much about an actual reward - the incentive to do something can come from reminding yourself the benefit you’l get from it, or why you’re doing it in the first place.

Recent incentives/reminders I’ve given myself:

* if you tidy your room you’ll feel good - you like having a tidy room, remember? (Fun fact about me: I love freshly vacuumed carpet)
* if you get up and go to the gym, you’ll feel good afterwards (and remember how you feel when you don’t go?)
* if you have a healthy lunch, you can maybe get a kebab for dinner.
* if you try something new, put yourself in a new situation, you might find you like it
* if you stop putting yourself in this situation you’ll stop getting hurt.

It can be really hard to commit to your resolve sometimes - I’m often my own worst enemy in this regard (self-sabotage, anyone?). But there’s a reason why we’ve resolved to do these things in the first place - be it doing a good job on a project at work, sticking to a diet or saving money. When we start to lose sight of why we’re doing these things, I don’t think a little extra incentive is a bad thing at all.

Last week I lost my car keys, for all of about 45 minutes. I found them, so no big deal - but for those 45 minutes I was freaking out. See, I’m not someone who frequently loses things - so when I do, I find it particularly unnerving.

This got me thinking about losing things generally - and not just ‘things’, but the way we can lose time, and people.

Losing time:
It amazes me how quickly time can disappear, on different scales. I’ve been reading a lot lately, for the first time in ages, and I’ve been shocked sometimes to look up and find that 2 hours have passed. At work today I had few distractions, was making good progress on a report - all of a sudden it was 4:45 and nearly time to go home!

We focus so much sometimes on getting through the week, or the day, or even the hour - it can be easy to lose sight of how much time is actually passing while we get caught in the business of living our everyday lives. It still surprises me to think how long I’ve been in Wellington (nearly 5 years), how long I’ve had a blog (2 years), and how long I’ve been in my current living situation (4 months). I think it’s important to every so often take stock of how much time is passing on that larger scale as we struggle through/enjoy the day to day - both so that we can get motivated to make the most of the time we have in any particular situation, and so that we can reflect on and take pride in what we have accomplished in the time we’ve had.

Losing people:
We’ve all lost people in our lives. I don’t mean just through death - we also lose people in less drastic (though not necessarily less permanent) ways: the school friends we promised we’d keep in touch with; the colleagues we spent numerous hours with; the partners who were such central parts of our lives at one time.

Losing people isn’t always bad. Sometimes you simply outgrow your friends. A bad relationship ending can be like a new lease on life. But even those losses that are natural, or good in the long run, are often tinged with their own kinds of sadness. Sometimes it feels like you’ve lost people when you never really had them in the first place. And sometimes we can lose ourselves if we’re not careful.

Losing things:
Like I said at the start of this post, I don’t actually lose things very often. Sure, it might take me a minute (or a few) to find a particular piece of paper on my desk at work - but it’s not lost, just buried. And sometimes, yes, I can’t immediately find the sock that matches the one I’ve already found. But it’s either in the draw or in the washing basket. It’s not lost. (I’m fortunate enough not to have a sock monster living in my house - I know a number of people afflicted by such a creature.)

The downside of this ability to keep track of my belongings, however, is that when I do misplace something I get, well, a little flustered - I do the sensible things, like retrace my steps to when I last had the item, and do not so sensible things, like unfairly snap at the people around me who are just trying to offer helpful suggestions (sorry guys). It’s unnerving and frustrating - I’m glad it doesn’t happen more often.

Who knows, maybe I lose things all the time and just don’t notice it because they’re not things that are really that important.

How do we know how to behave or react in certain situations? I’m not really talking about the nature vs. nurture debate. I’m talking about knowing how to react when you find yourself in a new and unfamiliar situation, or put another way, what we sometimes blame our reactions and behaviours on.

I’ve found myself watching bits of romantic comedies that my flatmates have rented on DVD or that have screened on tv lately. So many of these movies are based on a premise that the main character is in love with someone who is unavailable, and ‘romance’ and ‘comedy’ finds us following them in their endeavours to break up the relationship (or get out of their own) and end up with the person. And they’re almost always successful.

What’s the message here? Don’t respect other people’s relationships? Or, it’s only a minor obstacle to be overcome if you want someone and they (or you) are already in a relationship - the goal is to be with that person and everyone else is just collateral damage along the way.

Ok, I know that anyone who uses romantic comedies as their instruction guide for life probably has a number of other issues going on. But I find it amazing that this formula is trotted out so often, and we as an audience don’t seem to have any major problems with the ethics of this genre. Television is just as full of people behaving badly.

Now, I’m not trying to claim that I’m above watching (or sometimes enjoying) these things (even if admitting to this is not something I’d go around shouting from the rooftops). What I’m thinking about is how often we draw on things we see in life and in the media around us to help cue us on how to react in various situations, especially if it’s a situation we’ve not found ourselves in before.

Seeing as I’ve been inspired to write this by romantic comedies, let’s take dating and other ‘romantic entanglements’ as an example - ok, so we can get advice from friends, which might include ‘just do what feels right’ (not in itself bad advice). But I think we also draw on what we’ve seen and ‘learnt’ from popular culture. I really don’t think that that’s an inherently bad thing - sometimes it can be really helpful, and comforting to have a ‘toolbox’ of social tricks or reactions to draw on. Of course it may not always play out like we intend, but I think that whether we realise it consciously or not, the things we see (over and over again) in films and television shape our social interactions.

Of course this isn’t a new idea. It’s even kind of what my offices’ work is based on - the concept that things we see in film and other media can have an influence on our attitudes and perceptions of ourselves and others.

I’m also not trying to suggest that we try to excuse any bad behaviour on our part on things we’ve seen in movies (though I’ll admit I might have jokingly tried to do that myself once or twice in the last few months). At the end of the day we’re responsible for our actions. Of course we are. But when faced with a new situation that we’ve only seen before on screen, it’s not entirely illogical that we’d use the only frame of reference we have as our cue.

Every time I start to think about secrets, I get that Beatles song stuck in my head:

“Listen….do you want to know a secret?
 Do you promise not to tell?…”

We all have secrets. Some are trivial and fun, some are big and serious (or an alternative combination of those adjectives). Secrets can make us feel special, included, or guilty, depending on what they’re about.

I think secrets can also be empowering. I mean this in a good way, not in a “I have something over you/blackmail” kind of way.

I am quite good at keeping other people’s secrets. I’m terrible at keeping my own.

On many occasions in the past I have proven my trustworthy-ness, and feel honoured that friends have the faith in me to confide their secrets. I take this very seriously, and am very loyal about keeping confidences.

On the other hand, I don’t seem to be as good at keeping my own secrets. To be fair, I don’t have an awful lot of them - but when I do, I seem to want to tell people close to me. Which can be good - it’s an opportunity to get advice from good friends. But it can also be not so good - sometimes you get advice you don’t want to hear, or other times something is lost when you tell people something that was previously private.

So by saying  secrets can be empowering, I’m referring to my newfound attempts to keep my secrets to myself. There’s a lot to be said for taking time to consider one’s own secrets before having them influenced or shaped by the opinions of others.

There can be something warm and thrilling about a secret - I think it’s that warmth and thrill that is diluted the more people that know it. Having realised this, I’m revelling in holding a few of my own secrets as closely guarded as I would those of a friend. Like I said in a previous post, this is a time of a lot of change in my life - I think taking time to think about my secrets, be they trivial and fun or big and serious (or some other combination), is time well spent. Somtimes, things are ‘secret’ for good reason.

A lot has changed lately. Not just for me - a lot of people I know have experienced some major changes in their lives over the last year - but I’ve also had to deal with more changes than I’m used to.

I think most of us are creatures of habit - I know I am. I have my spot at the gym, the locker I like to use, the place(s) I like to get lunch from, etc. I know I’m not the only one. Routines like this are a source of comfort - a sense of consistency, and in some cases something that gives a sense of feeling in control.

When these routines, or what we take for granted as being our version of normal, changes - it can be empowering if it’s our choice, or disconcerting & upsetting if it’s not. A while ago I changed the row of lockers at the gym I like to use - minor, my choice, felt good about it. Things like the earthquakes in Christchurch -major, no one’s choice, terrible consequnces and feelings.

I’ve written previously about the earthquakes, and while there’s a lot more I could write about how they continue to affect my hometown and so many people I know - that is not what I want to write about this time.

Over the last few months my own life has changed dramatically. On one level, over the last year I’ve changed a bit in terms of how I live my life - becoming more independent, trying new things (rollerskating is progressing, still need lots of practice!). I felt good about how things were going in my life - sure things weren’t perfect, but then who’s life is? I had things pretty good, and I knew it.

Then things changed. In quite a big way. It was kind of surreal, as while I’ve often witnessed major events in other people’s lives (events/dramas) - I’ve not really had any of my own to deal with. By all accounts I’ve coped pretty well with the changes - and to an extent I think I have. Of course it’s hard at times - and I’ve done a few things that are, shall we say, a little out of character for me -but on balance, am doing… ok.

Things I’ve learnt:

* trust your instincts

* know what you deserve and if you’re not getting it, ask yourself a) why not and b) how can I get it?

* it’s good and an important thing to look after other people - but it’s important to take time to look after yourself as well

* change might be hard but it can be good.

I’ve been meaning to write this blog post for awhile, but as it invariably does, life has gotten in the way a bit lately.

A few weeks ago (April 14) I went to Christchurch for the first time since the February 22 earthquake. I was keen to go, curious to get a sense of what had happened to the city I grew up in. At the same time, I was very apprehensive about what I’d find.

As my plane landed, I actually started to cry. I think it just really started to hit me that I was a bit scared about what the next few days would bring (including the potential for big aftershocks).

It’s not that I’ve always been Christchurch’s biggest fan - but it is where I grew up.

I saw a lot over the fews days I was there. The inner city was (and is) still cordoned off, but every few days they are opening up more streets. We drove through the city where we could, and around some of the suburbs where relatives live. I saw too much to recount here (besides, words don’t really convey it) but ‘highlights’ included:

• Seeing Fitzgerald Ave completely sunken on one side, making the other side which was formally two lanes one-way into two lanes two-ways
• Seeing the lean the Hotel Grand Chancellor is on
• Walking along Durham St and seeing the Cathedral and the top of the Regent building from the Worcester Street bridge (I worked in the Regent for 7 years and am keen to see how it fared - not well from what I’ve heard)
• Standing at the Bridge of Rememberance and looking down into Cashel Mall
• Seeing the destroyed Provincial Chambers where we had wedding photos taken
• The Knox church on Victoria St
• Driving around at night and seeing darkness where streets have been abandoned, especially looking into the city from the four avenues - very eerie
• Feeling the 5.3 aftershock

We didn’t feel many aftershocks while we were there, except for the big one on the Saturday night. We were at a supermarket, not at all an ideal place to be in an earthquake/aftershock. It was pretty weird, especially the reactions of the people around us, who understandably were pretty upset. It was over pretty quickly, and was nothing like either the September or the February earthquakes (though some buildings were further damaged by the aftershock), but it gave us a little bit of insight into what life has been like for people in Christchurch over the last few months.

I enjoyed the chance to see family, and to catch up with friends to hear about how they were doing, exchange information and stories we’d heard about mutual friends or shared places of interest.

When we left, I did feel some relief. Mainly to be getting back to ‘normal’ life. It makes me feel guilty, but rationally we have to get on with things, like people in Christchurch are. I did feel though - and it makes me sad to say this - that upon leaving Christchurch, I had little desire to return. Which is a big thing for me, because I’ve always looked forward to going ‘home’ in the past. I think it’s just that it’s weird being there for a few days - in a way it’s different if you’re there all the time and you adapt to the situation. I will go back of course. I just remember someone asking me at work how my visit was, and me replying ‘I don’t really want to go back’.

I think it’s pretty cheesy to put song lyrics in a blog. I know I did it last time with my post prior to my Christchurch visit. Despite the cheese factor, I’m going to put song lyrics here too - this was the song that came into my head as the plane landed in Christchurch, and which kept coming back to me over the next few days as I drove around the city.

“There are places I’ll remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I’ve loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more”

On the day I went away….

Well, actually the day I went away was on Dec 6 or 7 last year - I went back home to Christchurch for an early Christmas with my family. It was the first time I’d been down since the September earthquake which came out of nowhere and caused a lot of traumatic damage to buildings and homes in Christchurch.

On the morning of September 14 at about 5am I got a text from my Mum asking if we were ok - at that stage she thought the earthquake they had felt may have been centered in Wellington. Without any power down there, it was awhile before people in Christchurch understood the full extent of what had happened to their city. I remember lying in bed with my laptop looking at photos on the internet as they came in, and trying to relay information to my family. Once day dawned, the extent of the damage began to become clearer - as did the unbelievable miracle that nobody had died or been seriously injured.

When I visited in December, at first it didn’t seem like much had changed. Driving around, most buildings looked fine, even in parts of the central city. It wasn’t until we got to Manchester Street where Dick Smiths used to be that I saw first hand the extent of some of the damage - a whole series of city blocks was fenced off, with just piles of rubble and rubbish blocking the view to where shops had previously been. I saw this when we went into the inner city to go to the gym - in the building a few down from Latimer Square and the CTV building.

I only felt one aftershock when I was in Christchurch that time, just a small one before I left, bit of a non-event really. That was in December, about 3 months after the earthquake.

At around 12:50 on Tuesday 22 February, I saw someone on Twitter say something about there being another major earthquake in Christchurch. A few more tweets from other people started to make me think it might be a bit more than just another aftershock. I was at work, and went into the boardroom to see if there was anything on tv about it - news websites only had headlines saying something to the effect of ‘major earthquake hits Christchurch - more information soon’. I went into the boardroom, and there was nothing on the tv yet. During an adbreak I think a newsreader repeated the headline, and said they’d have a bulletin shortly. While Dr Phil kept going on tv, I started trying to call my family, and couldn’t get through to anyone at first. Eventually I got a hold of my brother, who had talked to my Mum, then got hold of Dad who was stuck in Auckland who had talked to my sister. Eventually we figured out that everyone was safe.

When the news bulletin started, they were live in Christchurch, with cameras showing (as they kept reminding us) ‘unedited footage’. I was in the boardroom by myself with the remote in my hand, trying to work out what I was seeing. All of I sudden I realised that the camera was on Colombo Street, looking towards Cathedral Square - but where was the Cathedral? Where was it? I still don’t entirely understand why, but that particular shot, that realisation that the Cathedral was gone brought me down, literally. I couldn’t breath and dropped to my knees. Just prior to this a few people out at reception had started to notice something was going on, and at that point they came in - I’m very grateful they were there. It just seemed like for the Cathedral to have gone, it was likely that the rest of the city was too (and as it turned out that wasn’t far off the reality).

There were shots of people walking around screaming and crying, injured, frantically trying to get away, help others, or just make sense of what was going on around them. Some of the media coverage was over the top and invasive - we didn’t need to see repeated images of people who obviously didn’t want to be filmed. Over the next few days, I had to self-censor around the media coverage of the earthquake. It wasn’t something I had done with the September one, but this time it was different.

I know I am incredibly lucky that all my friends and family are safe. To an extent I felt and feel guilty feeling sad about the state of the city and its people considering a) I wasn’t there when it happened and b) I didn’t lose anyone. But at the same time it was hard for those of us who had family in Christchurch and who had grown up there to not be able to do anything much to help. A few of us met up that evening to watch the news coverage - it was really nice to be able to sit together, try and work out what parts of the city we were seeing in the helicopter footage. I think in a way we all may have wished a little that we were there, just to be with our families.

Of all the stories that have come out of that day so far - and there have been so many, both tragic and uplifting - there were two things that I found particularly heartbreaking. One was the loss of the Cathedral - I’d only been in it a few times, it wasn’t a building that I had a personal connection with, but it was one that I took for granted would always be there. I walked past it so many times - to me it was the iconic image of the city I grew up in and for that to be gone seemed unbelievable. The second was the two buses on that were crushed - I just couldn’t get over the idea that these people had been sitting on a bus going to work, school, home, shopping, just everyday ordinary activities only for this to happen. Bodies on Colombo Street? It was all so surreal - this couldn’t be happening.

And I think that’s why I feel a little bit of trepidation as I prepare to fly down to Christchurch tomorrow night. I’m thinking the reality of the situation might sink in for me a bit further once I see some of it first hand. I know I won’t be able to see what I really want to  - the inner city. While I also don’t want to see it, I don’t think it’ll actually seem real until I do, maybe in October when they’re thinking they’ll be able to reopen the central city. I worked just off the square for 7 years. I spent a lot of time in that area, and even the idea of not being able to go there, let alone the fact that it’s in ruins seems so alien. I don’t know the fate of the cinema I worked in - I spent so many hours in that building, I knew every inch of it. I know it’s horribly damaged, but am unsure of exactly how far gone it is.

I try to think what it’ll be like down there - my parent’s house isn’t badly damaged at all, which is very fortunate. And every couple of days they’re lifting the cordon on parts of the city - though I think that just means that they’re safe, not necessarily that they’re ok. What if there’s aftershocks when I’m down there? What if there’s another big one? I know that it’s very unlikely, but it still sits in the back of my mind, as it must do for all those living there.

Every so often it comes back to me, and I realise just how long it’s going to take for the city to obtain some degree of normalcy again. And I feel guilty for not thinking about it more. But the reality is that I can’t think about it all the time - it’s too depressing. And I know as I write those words that this is a luxury that many don’t have. Hundreds of people living in Christchurch have no choice but to face the reality of what’s happened every day.

And I know when I’m on that plane tomorrow night there’ll be a lot of emotions bubbling inside. I’ve had this song in my head the past few days, which seems appropriate.

“On the day I went away… goodbye…
Was all I had to say… now I…
I want to come again and stay… Oh my my…
Smile, and that will mean that I may

Cause I’ve seen blue skies, through the tears
In my eyes
And I realise.. I’m going home.

Everywhere it’s been the same… feeling…
Like I’m outside in the rain… wheeling…
Free, to try and find a game… dealing…
Cards for sorrow, cards for pain

Cause I’ve seen blue skies through the tears
In my eyes
And I realise.. I’m going home.

I’m going home, I’m going home.”

I need something to blog about. I haven’t blogged in awhile and it’s something I want to do. Hmm.

Maybe I could doa blog post about writing a blog post? Thinking of something to write about is often the main thing. It seems like when one blogs, it should at least attempt to about something substantial, or worthy of a) the effort of being written and b) the effort of people reading it.

But maybe not  - maybe it’s ok just to write something. I think if nothing else, just writing is good, practice.

Politics, abortion, religion, sexuality - important social issues that warrant both a) and b) above. But I don’t really feel like writing those things right now.

TV, music, sports - don’t really feel like writing about them either at the moment.

I’ve written in the past about the necessity of having to censor myself when blogging (or Tweeting or ‘Face-booking’ - is that the right verb?), which means when I think about writing a blogpost I usually go through a couple of ideas or themes and discard them - maybe if I get into writing more regularly I’ll change my perspective on that side of things, but not for now.

I think I’d like to write about the Christchurch earthquake, but not today. I’m going down there on Thursday, so maybe I’ll do a post before I go and after I get back.

If anyone reads this, I’d welcome suggestions. Even the categories, serious and frivalous, I’ve listed above - I have an opinion on lots of things, just like everyone else.

So tell me -what should I write about?

(don’t worrry, I’m sure I’ll come up with something on my own soon enough.) ;)

This afternoon my partner and I went to the supermarket to get some groceries for dinner, and thought, what the heck, it’s summer and we’ve got a friend coming over, lets pick up some cider and beer while we’re at it. We we’re a little surprised when the girl at the checkout asked me for ID, but I had my purse with me, not a problem, gave her my drivers licence, which she studied, then she studied my face, then back to the licence. While still holding it, she nodded at my partner and said she’d need to see his ID too. As I took my licence back, he explained he didn’t have any with him. She summoned a manager, who looked at us, said he needed to have ID and took away the drinks. I did say “Really? We’re 28!” but she just kind of looked at us with a smile on her face and said no. My partner didn’t really care, just said don’t worry, and I continued to pay for the rest of our stuff, kind of shaking my head in disbelief as I did.

Now, I understand the a) the law and b) the well-established policy for asking for ID if you look under 25. But still, I was really surprised by this - we didn’t even think about it when we took the beer to the checkout.

I haven’t been ID’d for a while now, but when I have, it’s only been when I’ve been buying beer at the supermarket - I haven’t been ID’d buying wine for ages. Why is this? Does buying beer implicitly imply that someone is younger/less refined/less mature/less responsible?

I’ve been involved with asking for ID and dealing with age-restricted products for about 11 years now. Ok, censorship classifications aren’t exactly the same as alcohol, but there’s a fair bit of cross over. I know how organisations need to protect themselves but ensuring they only sell to people old enough to have the drink/film/game they are trying to purchase. I also know they discretion and common sense that employees and supervisors can and should employ in these situations.

Am I really upset by this? Not really - more amused. It wouldn’t have been so amusing if we’d been picking up beer to take to a BBQ or something - then it would have been a pain and I might have argued more. I wonder how far that would have got me? My partner pointed out that once they go down that line of asking for ID, they kind of have to stick to it. And since he doesn’t carry any ID on him, should I make him wait outside next time while I buy the drinks? (now that I find funny).And we thought he looked older with facial hair!

Just to see what happened, we stopped in at the Liquor Mill on the way home to get the aforementioned cider and beer - we both went in, both went up to the counter, nice chat with the guy who served us and we were done. No request for ID at all. I guess that a key difference is that at the bottle shop all they do is sell age-restricted product, and so are probably pretty savvy at knowing who to ask for ID to ensure that they don’t sell to people under 18. On the other hand, at the supermarket alcohol is only one small part of the range of products they sell. The employees there are also often a lot younger (the girl who served us today was maybe around 22? Let’s just say I wouldn’t have ID’d her for alcohol), so maybe that skews their perspective on how old their customers are. I know that when I worked at the cinema I at times had to step in when over-zealous younger box office staff refused to sell tickets for restricted films to people very clearly well over the age of the restriction.

I guess we could take it as a compliment - maybe we looked under 25 (though there’s no way we look under 18!!). Older people will probably tell us we’ll feel a bit sad they day we don’t get asked for ID. But I’ve already had ‘that day’ a number of times and am quite happy with that arrangment. Wonder what we’ll do next time - maybe he can go through one checkout with the food, and I’ll go through another with the drinks. But what if they see us meet up afterward?! Will they know we’re in cahoots and wrestle the alcohol off us?

When were you last asked for ID, for alcohol or even a movie? Have you recently been in this situation of being refused a sale even though you’re well over the age of restriction? And if you have, did you cause a nice juicey scene? I do sympathise with the staff who are required to enforce these laws, but come on!

Over the last few months I’ve been going to the gym everyday, and on the weekdays haul ass to the 6:30am classes. While initally this involved coming home after class to shower and dress for work, the delay this caused in arriving at work started to become a bit of a problem. The result has been fine tuning the art of deciding what to wear to work the night before and packing a bag with all the necessary attachments. There have been a few hiccups along the way (forgetting to pack underwear was an interesting day…), but now I’ve got this down pat, for the most part at least.

Of course, this now means that most mornings I shower and get ready for work at the gym. And this leads me to the reason for this post: the stuff that goes on in the girls’ locker room. Now, don’t get excited - I’m talking about the primping and preening that goes on to turn a bunch of red faced sweaty people into presentable professionals ready for a day in the office. (I don’t know if I’m breaking some sort of sisterhood code in doing this…)

Basically, I’m amazed at the amount of stuff that some women put on their faces in the morning. I’m not trying to be bitchy - I just am really surprised by the amount of makeup some of these women put on. For example, the other day I was drying my hair next to a woman that had something that resembled a professional makeup kit, like one of those cloth ones you fold out that holds a whole bunch of brushes. The thickness of her makeup can best be described as what you’d expect to see on an flight attendant (now that’s not a slight against them either - it’s commonly understood that flight attendants wear a lot of makeup and I believe they’re maybe even required to do so?). This woman in the changing room didn’t look horrible - maybe just looking more like she was ready for a night club than day at work. I guess I was just extra surprised/horrified-for-a-second when she put on a white t-shirt after having applied her foundation. Maybe it’s just jealousy because I know if I tried to do that I’d end up with a tan coloured splodge on the front of my shirt? I think I just consider it a little impractical, in terms of sweat/maintenance throughout the day/getting close to people/taking it off at night.

Why do some women do this? I’m not asking in an accusatory way - I’m really asking. Maybe they have a job which requires a heavily made-up look. Maybe it makes them feel good about themselves - all the more power to them. It’s just interesting to think about where we sit on the spectrum of ‘all naturale’ to ‘beauty pagant’.

I think I swing more towards natural - though I haven’t always. I’ll admit to in the past having woken up before my boyfriend, dabbing on a bit of cover up and getting back into bed to try and maintain some sort of illusion - but I was an insecure teenager then (that’s my pathetic excuse anyway). I like to think I’ve come along way since then. I think part of that is due to my partner’s attitude towards it - he’s not a fan of heavy makeup, and I think that’s had a positive influence on me. In contrast to some of the other women in the locker room, my makeup routine consists of:

* applying moisturiser that has an SPF in it
* a light brushing of pressed power
* using a foundation as a concealer if needed
* eyeliner
* mascara

I appreciate that even that will seem like a huge amount to some people. I suppose it’s all kind of relative.

And another thing - and this is a bit bitchy - I can’t believe the mess some women make with their makeup! Sometimes after a crowd, the counters are covered in foundation smudges - I don’t get how that happens. Maybe a hazard of applying it so ‘liberally’.

Argh - this is starting to feel a bit sour, so I’ll finish by mentioning something else I’ve noticed in the changing rooms. I understand and appreciate the etiquette of not staring at other people while they’re getting changed as much as the next person. But I haven’t been able to help but notice the number of tattoos being sported by women as they walk around in varying stages of dress. A lot of these tattoos are beautiful - I sometimes glimpse one and wonder what the story is behind it. I also think about who else gets to see them, in that in some cases it seems a pity that they’re not likely to be shared more widely (depending on the levels of exhibitionism the wearer has I suppose). It makes me think about whether I’d get one, but I still think I couldn’t think of something I could committ to that permanently. And then you see ones that are a little unfortunate (like one that is on the small of the back but unfortunately looks like it’s growing out of the butt crack) and decide to contemplate the prospect for a while longer.

If you’re one of the women I’ve talked about in this post, I’m sorry if I’ve caused any offence. But what do people think?

Wearers of make up - what’s your approach? A little or a lot? Reasons for and against?

And others - how do you feel about it? Does it even matter?

Sometimes there’s nothing better than a good laugh - one of those epic fits where you can barely breathe and just make a kind of squeaking sound. I had one of those laughs tonight - the sort where once you start, you really can’t stop until you make yourself think of something completely unrelated to what you’re currently thinking about.

It’s probably fair to say that I’m somewhat of an emotional person - I don’t mean ‘emotional’ as in high-strung, but as in I have a tendency to feel my feelings rather emphatically at times.

For example: take tonight’s episode. We were watching YouTube videos, talking about some of our favourite classic Internet memes. A lot of them were pretty amusing, such as the Numa Numa guy, the Chinese Backstreet Boys and the Dramatic Hamster - so I was already in the giggling mode. What set me off was thinking of a particular video that always cracks me up - the reaction of a news team to footage of a model falling at fashion week. It’s not so much the footage of her tripping that gets me (which, as unfortunate as it is, you have to admit is pretty funny) - it’s the pure, uncontrollable laughter that erupts from the news team. I have a penchant for videos of news bloopers and videos where people (particularly news anchors) can’t stop laughing. I think that the laughter contagion extends through the screen.

My form of ‘extreme laugh’ is that alluded to above - I’m pretty much reduced to a silent shake with the odd squeak as I struggle to suck in air, not unlike Muttley, accompanied by tears and, embarrassingly, the occasional snort. Laughing like that gives you an awesome feeling of relaxation afterwards, a sort of contentment. It’s also a good ab workout!

It was good to have such a big, out of control laugh this evening. Over the last couple of days there’s been a couple of things that have moved me to tears (not of laughter). I found the photos of New Zealand soldiers carrying the body of their fallen comrade very moving - the poppies worn by the soldiers were a poignant symbol of their loss. At the same time I did feel conflicted about the photos themselves - they were such personal moments that it felt a little uncomfortable to be viewing them. On a closer to home note, a friend of mine suddenly lost a beloved member of her family. I know this is a really awful time for her, and as she was telling me about what had happened and how she was feeling, I could feel myself starting to well up - now that’s not a particularly helpful reaction when you’re around someone who’s grieving, as you don’t want to ‘remind’ them when they’re trying to keep their own emotions under control.

That’s kind of what I mean about being hyper-emotional - I cry when I watch films, I cry when people tell me sad things, I cry when people give speeches, I cry when something happy happens, and of course, when sad things happen. I should point out that ‘cry’ doesn’t necessarily mean actually breaking down - it usually means watery eyes, sometimes running down the cheeks (I’m trying to perfect the art of the subtle tear-wipe-away disguised as scratching my cheek or adjusting my glasses, and I’m pretty good at the silent cry - useful for movie theatre situations).

For the most part, when it really matters I’m able to keep my emotions under control. I wouldn’t say that I let these sorts of emotions or emotional reactions govern my actions. Instead, they’re almost a kind of release (do you ever get a bit of a headache when you’ve been trying to keep from crying?). Sometimes it’s nice just to have a good cry - or even better a good laugh - to get rid of some of the tension and emotional baggage you may be carrying.

So what about you? What sends you into fits of laughter or brings a tear to your eye?

I don’t get sick very often. I really don’t - at least not compared to others. So when I do, it can be rather inconvenient, and painful for both me and, unfortunately, for those around me.

Don’t worry - I’m not on death’s door, though as my flatmate pointed out to me, apparently in Japan when someone says they have a cold, the polite response is “oh no, you’re going to die!” We think that must have something to do with validating the patient’s discomfort. As for me, I just have a case of the sniffles. Pretty minor in the grand scheme of things.

The trouble is, those small aliments like sniffles and coughs are problematic in their low intensity and longevity. I’m not sick enough to be in bed, but just a little bit too yicky to be fully functional. This has benefits and disadvantages: I didn’t participate in making dinner (no one wants a sneezy chef) so was served by those in my house; on the other hand, at the gym this afternoon I was seriously considering stepping out of class to go throw up/lie down/pass out. Why did I go to the gym if I was sick? Well, after being on holiday for a week I was pretty eager to get back into it (we normally go to the gym everyday). Fortunately for me that moment of queasiness passed and I survived the rest of the class. And I’m sure ‘they’ say that exercising can help you get over colds.

Re the title of this post:my partner and I have agreed that it’s just as well (for both of us) that I don’t get sick very often. He cares - I’m sure he does - he’s just not a very good bed nurse (though he did pretty well last night getting me hot water bottles). I on the other hand am pretty good at looking after a sick person - for about three days. After that I tend to get a bit over it and ‘gently’ encourage the patient to start thinking about getting better. I think its largely due to an intolerance for ‘pathetic-ness’ that my mother has instilled in me. Mum is good at looking after you when you’re sick, so long as you don’t whine and flop around like a big old waahmbulance. The phrase “If you’re that sick go to bed” comes to mind, which is a sentiment echoed in most circles today (and quite rightly so). No one likes to sneezed on, or listen to someone sniffing and blowing their nose all day.

And so I’m drugged up, rugged up, and fed and watered. I guess the silver lining of getting a little bit sick every now and then is it helps you appreciate your good health outside of those times, and maybe increases one’s capacity for empathy towards others when they are unwell.

“Time is relative…”
“Time waits for no man…”
“Where did the time go?”

There are so many cliches about time, but as is true of most cliches, they are surprisingly relevant to everyday life.

We got back from Melbourne last night - ok, it’s only a 2 hour time difference, but that’s enough for me to be up at 1:00am NZ time, feeling pretty awake and worrying a little bit about getting up in the morning. Timezones are so weird - it’s pretty trippy to think that when you’re having lunch, someone else not really all that far away from you in one direction is having breakfast, and someone else in the other direction is having dinner. While we were in Melbourne, we had an online meet up with our friends - three in Wellington, NZ at 2pm on Saturday, us in Melbourne at 12 noon on Saturday, and two in San Francisco on Friday evening. For me it just reinforces how constructed our concepts of time are.

Another aspect of suddenly being confronted by the spectre of time is meeting new people, finding out what they have accomplished in their time on the planet, and inevitiably comparing it back to what you’ve done in your own years to date. We attended a conference with people in the area of film and transmedia, and it was simultaneously inspiring and daunting to hear of their successes in their respective fields. I’m pretty bad at telling how old someone is, but most of these people were probably within 10 years either side of my age - it made me think about what I’m doing and am going to do. And not really in a “oh my god, my life is going by and I’m not doing anything with it” kind of way. More in a “where do I want to go next?” kind of way. I think that’s a really good thing, to have those moments which make you actually think actively about yourself, what you’re good at and where to take those skills. Like I said, it’s a bit daunting, but at the same time freakishly exhilarating.

The last thing I want to say about time for the moment (haha) is about how spending time with people can affect your relationship - in this instance in a positive way. My partner and I had never travelled overseas together before, so this was the first time we were stuck together in a foreign country of strangers with only each other for company. In some cases or circumstances I can see that being a situation ripe for disaster - in this case though, it was really nice to spend that time together without the distractions of work or friends (sorry guys). There were a couple of times where we went to different places for a couple of hours, but these weren’t for very long or very often (largely because we had no means of telecommunication with one another and didn’t fancy losing one another in the big city). It was fun for about 95% of the time which I think is pretty good going (we’re not perfect). Sometimes after spending an extended amount of time with people, be it working with the same people day after day, or living in the pocket of another person for just a few days, you want to shake them, run as far as you can in the other direction and not see them for a good month or two - but (and to be honest, I was kind of surprised by this) as far as the last week went, that time only made me look forward to spending more of that sort of time together in the future.

Today I attended a 1-day conference run by the Privacy Commissioner as part of Privacy Awareness week. I’m still processing most of the information I encountered today, but thought it timely to note down a few thoughts.

I find it a little bit ironic to be writing about privacy on a public forum such as a blog. Today we heard about the various debates going on in relation to privacy and the Internet - issues around trust and power.

Facebook was discussed a lot today - people talked about the risks of users unwittingly exposing their private lives to the whole world (including potential employers and online predators). Personally I think that while there’s an increasing understanding that yes, it might not be the best idea to post that drunken photo of yourself from the other night, because you can’t be sure who’ll see it - people don’t necessarily keep that top of mind when posting even seemingly innocuous photos or comments. I think that awareness is growing as people become more sophisticated about how they use social networking sites - or as more people get ‘burned’ by having something seen by an unwanted audience. I’m interested in these ideas, because they connect to concepts of censorship and surveillance -in this case, self-censorship due to increasing (albeit often invited) surveillance. I am very aware of the number of my family members who are now on Facebook - consequently, I don’t (often) use that space to vent or say things in the heat of the moment which could oh so easily be misunderstood if taken out of the context of my normal everyday life.

Twitter (at least my Twitter) is slightly more exclusive (sorry family). It’s strange to think of it as a space to express my thoughts and opinions to a relatively select group. Actually, it’s not strange - it’s wrong, because my account isn’t locked - anyone can follow me without my permission. For all I know, perhaps my family is following me on Twitter (though I get an email notification when some starts following me, so I think I’m safe). Even without the presence of my family on Twitter

[Can I just say it’s not like I have anything to hide from my family! It’s just sometimes, you know, you need your (digital) space]

                                                                       I still find I often can’t say what I really want to because it relates to my friends or co-workers, some of whom are on Twitter. Is this a good thing, this self-censoring? I’m inclined to say probably, because it means I actually have to stop and process what I’m feeling instead of ranting, hitting enter and then getting hit with regret. That or I just save it up and unleash it on the next unfortunate sympathetic ear to turn in my direction.

Today also made me think about the degree to which people are, or are not, private creatures. This was a concept raised by one of the speakers at the forum. Apparently a lot of people are saying, with the advent of such widespread Internet and digital information penetration into our everyday lives, that ‘privacy is dead’ - so we should all just “get over it”, not worry about security and just share all our information. I think I take a stance on this issue somewhere near the middle.

On the one hand, I appreciate the benefits (and in some cases the necessity) of having information about oneself ‘out there’ for others to encounter. Indeed, to be easily discoverable on the net is a goal for many people - a high profile (of the right sort) can be beneficial in terms of networking, both socially and in terms of employment or career development. A lot of the talk today seemed to be skewed towards making sure people (or organisations) can’t create dossiers on us at all - but I think that to try and keep all information about oneself off the digital landscape is to miss out on potential opportunities. That being said, I think that even those proponents of having a high profile digital presence would agree that there is some information you’d still want to keep private (maybe not those people who broadcast their lives 24/7 on the net).

Which brings me to the other hand - I don’t think privacy, or the desire for it, is dead. I think there are a lot of things that people want and should, keep private. I myself am a relatively private person. Yes, I have a Facebook account, and a Twitter account, and a blog - but that doesn’t mean I want everyone all up in my business! I have had those moments looking at other people’s Facebook pages and thinking “wow - did you really mean to put that up?” (usually in relation to photos). This hasn’t happened very often, but often enough to make me think about how someone might view my information (it also reminds me of the etiquette around tagging people in photos, which to be honest I’m still not sure that I’ve fully got a handle on). I think I’m OK with what I’ve got up on those sites - but feel free to let me know if you’ve had one of those “uh, really?” moments with something I’ve put up.

And yes, I realise that I’ve only been talking about information that I have consciously put out into that digital black hole that is the Internet - I know there will be information which I have unwittingly put up without really thinking about it or realising it, and that there will be information that I have no idea has been gleaned from my life and used in ways I’ve not even considered. But my mind, like I said before, is still processing the hours of talks I’ve heard today, so all I’ll say is it’s important to at least take a cursory glance at the terms & conditions, or the privacy notices, before you agree to hand any information over to a company or a website.

I’ve clicked a box so that my blog posts appear on Facebook, and I’ll probably Tweet a link to this post. So there goes a little bit more of my privacy - but this is a blog, on the Internet - it’s not supposed to be private! As much as this feels like I’m just ruminating and talking to myself, other people might read this, so I better mind my P’s and Q’s (what does that mean?) - I guess if you really want to have a personal log of your thoughts, feelings or experiences, you’ll have to go analogue and get a pen and a journal - just don’t leave it lying around - someone might scan the pages and put them on the Internet! (dun dun duuunnnnn).