Icons: a new poem.

Icons

May 1^st 2012

My heart and mind

are full of icons

cocks and angels

be still

I

have not yet

had my fill

I’m a good girl

I promise you that

Sporting Christ on my coat

and the Goddess in my hat

I look out at that green

It will swallow me

Like a big mouthed whore takes a man

Coins of energy coil along my thighs

Inside I am all soft

The whole valley fills me with love

Bow down now

Take your fill

Open your mouth

I’m sure you’re a good boy

And that you’ll promise.

  

My cat likes Bowie, and shit, The 10th of May ...

     Video of my wee beast enjoying a bit of Bowie. 

Okay, so you may recall that I knew the 10th of May was significant for reasons beyond my doctor's appointment (ADD or not, we'll find out). I thought, is that my long-absent adoptive father's birthday, or mother's day, or some kind of historical event? As it turns out, it is of course the date for Julie's operation.

Julie is Lisa's older sister and she's got what was first pronounced an inoperable brain tumour. That was a year ago, and they're now saying that if they don't operate then she'll definitely die. It can go either way with an operation though. Hardcore. So that's what's happening on the 10th of May. I'm not sure what the results are supposed to be if the operation is successful. If she lives, what will her quality of life be?

I'm taking forever to unpack. On the upside, I've had great company over the last week. I saw Peter on Wednesday and we went for a jaunty walk, then Andrew on Thursday, and then I caught up with the Painter on Friday. I was pretty nervous about catching up with the Painter. 

Even though I felt all fine the last time I saw him, I did want to be honest. The truth is, I want to be friends with this person even though I was horribly hurt. I really want to live what I say I believe, and I do believe that heart felt forgiveness (and not the sort that makes someone 'wrong' and 'guilty' in order to elevate one's own ego and desire to be 'right') is the only way forward. I also wanted an apology, not expressions of his own self-pity, and when he understood what sorry was to me, he was able to look at me and deliver. I really appreciated it. Sure, some might say I'm just too soft, but look at what happens to people who are hard. They're no fucking fun!

With the unpleasant business of feelings and truth bought up and dealt with, I can honestly say I think there is a good chance to have the sincere and silly friendship with this guy that I was supposed to have had. 

Saw Marconi Receiver last night, Tam's band! Really really good, so incredibly proud of her and all the work she's done. The whole band just kicked it in the head, they sounded so sweet and good. I was smiling the whole time. 

Me and Tam


So darlings, remember, apologies aren't hard, manners are hot, music is necessary and marmite will return.

xxxx

ADD, Coffee, Work ... and reading.

My heart is beating too fast. I really haven't had that much coffee have I? Just two strong ones to start the day, then a couple of instant ones at work. 

Was talking to Andrew, (aka Sexy Ex) about ADD again. He hadn't even researched it but said "oh I predict that when you go to the doctor he'll say you're very mildly ADD". Ok then Doctor Andrew, we'll see. He sort of had to concede I might have a point when he looked at the symptoms though. 

The appointment isn't until the 10th of May. Is that a significant date? Mother's day or May Day or something?

Oh anyway, coffee. I'm expected not to have had any for five days prior to my appointment. The thought makes me a little nervous. I looked up coffee and ADD (Peter has a friend who lives in Scotland, a place where ritalin is banned, and she gets by with her ADD by dosing up on coffee) and it's common for ADDers to be big coffee drinkers. Keeps the mind a bit more organised, at least for a few hours anyway.

I also wonder how much of this confused order in the brain (apart from hyper-focus) contributes to depression and exhaustion? 

I remember ticking 25 out of 30 ADD symptoms on this list when I was 19 years old and deciding that I would just give it over to God to take care of. I may not see 'God' in the same light (or darkness) as I used to, but perhaps a good whack of medication could be my miracle? People are so fucking freaked out by medication. I trot out the same line every time

 "so if you broke your leg, would you not get a cast put on it?". The freaked out person looks at you and says

 "it's not the same thing". It's not?

I've known severely unwell people who were not on meds, and believe me, it's better that they take them. 'Mentally unwell' is such a broad spectrum, but if we don't have these conversations, how will we feel connected to others? How will we reduce our appalling suicide rate? Is mental illness a symptom of an unhealthy society? 

I recently had this woman speak over the top of me once, shouting me down, saying that I had never needed to take antidepressants (this was years ago, and they did help) and that it was all in my mind. Er, exactly. It was all in my mind. Places of pain and unrest exist and need to be addressed. Sometimes exercise, good food, dancing, meditating, painting, wanking and talking with friends might be enough. Sometimes it's just not.

Sure, doctors may be over-prescribing or not looking at other reasonable means of treating a variety of ailments, but that's not what I'm talking about. What if you have tried and tried, and you're still finding it way too difficult?

Focusing on what you love, who you love, what gives you a good old stirring in your heart or pants, that's what helps me. I am so grateful to be free of depression, and if I am diagnosed with ADD, then I can find out what I need to do to manage my life a little bit better. Oh please, please don't let the doctor tell me I can't have coffee. Shit, I have to buy some decaf and start mixing it with my real coffee so that I'm not in agony withdrawing.

I felt quite emotional today. I was trying to explain what 'admire' meant to my students. Respect and like. Or perhaps you could admire some things in a person, and not others. One student made a great joke by mistake

"I admire the New Zealand government!" she said

"You admire John Key!" and we all laughed

"Oh no no no," she said "the other one, the Helen Clark!".

One of my students has a massive bruise over one eye. She is a beautiful young woman, and she has been punched so hard in the face that the colours rising to the surface of her skin are like the brilliant hues of an expensive,  gothic eye shadow. Purple and deep grape-black. 

These women seem like (oh god forgive me, I'm going to sound so cheesey) beautiful flowers that have been allowed to grow at last. I am unashamedly self helpy and affectionate. I get everyone to hold hands and say things like

 "I'm a beautiful and strong woman, and I like who I am".

We laugh quite a lot, and yet there are sometime tears coming to the surface. Today I apologized because I got quite teary, but as I swallowed back the lump in my throat, we all started laughing again. 

It's been a really busy but good week. The new place is still a bit of a tip, and I can't get the phone working, nor is the cell phone coverage any good. I'll suddenly get a rash of texts coming at about six or so in the evening. 

A friend's band is playing tomorrow night, so that'll get me out of the woods, and tonight it looks like I'm catching up with the Painter. 

Might have a wine and attempt to do a bit of sorting. 

OOh, and I'm reading "Oryx and Crake" by Margaret Atwood at the moment. I've mislaid the other book I'm reading (a library one and bound to be mounting in fines) but Atwood's offering has me truly hooked. If you like a bit of Sci Fi without too much of the ridiculous shit in it, then this might be just your cup of tea. 

Ridiculous shit in Sci Fi: writing like this: 

"Zerne looked sideways at the Xyloffer Brigade. It was hard to imagine what they were thinking, their absence of eyes never failed to disconcert him. MeenVo Pileese of the third Nation of Tra asked him if he wanted any moojibiii bars while he was at Cumsucker station number nine."

That sort of thing numbs me over in less than a second. 

Atwood does create a whole incredible post apocalyptic (I think post apocalyptic is one of my favourite things to say) world that requires many strange inventions, but it doesn't seem gratuitous.

Well darlings, must be time to shower and stop at New Lynn Mall for a new razor and something else that begins with R. What was it? Knew I should have written it down.

Lots of love

C

New Abode!

New Abode


The Toscat is sort of leaning, sitting up next to me as I type. My back hurts, but I don't really mind. I'm exhausted, and that's okay. I'm home. I am where I'm meant to be. I love my new dwelling.


I feel like I'm in a boat because the room is narrow, yet when I look up there's a window that fills the whole end wall (just beyond all the stuff I haven't unpacked). In the morning, the light comes through that window (it sort of looks like another ranch slider until you get closer and see that the windows open outwards). Through that ranch slider like facade you see only native bush and the a few hints of other houses in the far off distance. I can walk around naked, and if someone is willing to get out their binoculars to see it, then they can go for gold.


Much thanks goes to Handsome Rob, the Sexy Ex and Da Mamma for their help in shifting all my marvelous and extraneous crap. Handsome Rob turned up with a trailer and despite having a number of other really important things going on in his life, still chose to spend hours helping me. I couldn't help but think about friendships once again, how someone can be in your life in 1992, and then shit, here we are in 2012 and it's still easy to connect with this person.


What's going on when you have a friend for many years and you didn't  recognise that they were a narcissistic, passive aggressive, self loathing A- hole ... and yet there are other friends you haven't been in touch with for a million years and then they glide back into your life so sweetly and kindly? Is that a sign that I am standing up for myself finally? That I'm not willing to be quite so understanding (ie; doormat?). I guess you can be understanding to a point, but if that point means taking abuse  (even quiet abuse, the kind that with holds love as punishment), then the point has been lost. 


Here's to the discovery of points. Ha, I'm not even making sense anymore, I'm so tired. 


Jobbie:


Teaching today was a bit ramshackle, and I haven't got a lesson plan for tomorrow. I'll get up early and do it, I'm just fried right now. I don't have enough hours, but I'm really excited about what I can do to help these women improve their English skills and build up their confidence. I just hope they don't bring their children tomorrow. Don't get me wrong, I love children, of course I do. I'm brilliant with them. But not when I'm trying to teach English to adults. Kind of hard when the mother whips out her breast and keeps feeding the demanding little beast during her English proficiency test. Another woman had this super ADHD child who was completely jacked up on sugar. The only way to shut him up was to draw pictures for him. I whispered to him as I drew, which he fortunately copied. I quite liked him when he whispered. He seemed less like the spawn of satan that way.


Oh, I'm not pregnant either, phew! I wouldn't mind popping one out if I had a consistent and committed partner etc, but it wouldn't be easy to do it in the current circumstances! Ha! Imagine that blog entry. I did wonder what on earth I'd do, and had decided I'd have managed fine, and that of course it would have been a very cute and well loved sproglet. Shit. It would have had the biggest eyes and lips ever!


The night away in Whangmata to get Nanna's ashes buried in with Robert's was really good. A number of rellies couldn't come or didn't want to, so it ended up being really intimate which was brilliant. This man we'll call Pat presided over the burial. He and his wife had known  Nanna and my Step Grandad (he also got re-buried on the same day) for about 35 years.


 It was kind of funny, because Pat talked about my Step Granddad like he was the most awesome man in the world, yet he was a creepy, violent old fuck head with a tendency to feel you up if you didn't wriggle away quickly enough. Ooh he loved a good tickle did my Grandad. I don't care, I forgave him years ago for feeling up my barely formed right breast as he shared a bible passage with me during my 11th year of life. Gave it a good old massage. He liked little breasts. Preferred them to grown ones I do believe. He had also done similar things, and worse, to both of my aunts. Perhaps my mum escaped such attentions due to the large size of her bosoms? It's all speculation now of course. Imagine asking him directly. "Grandad, before you die, I just wondered ..."


Pat was describing how great my step Granddad was with children. Ha! Yes indeed, you could definitely say he had a way with them, that's for sure. Adults thought we were squealing in delight as we ran screaming from him. I was screaming with genuine anxiety. I knew what sex was, and that was the vibe I got.


I looked over at my Aunt during some prayer in which Pat said "none of us are perfect". She was also open-eyed. I winked at her. I'm not usually a winker, but this occasion seemed to call for it. Dirty old Granddad was quite the winker. We smiled at each other. My Aunt is a fiery one. She's the sort that will just tell you to shut the fuck up if she feels the need to. I used to be really freaked out by that, but I'm not anymore. I'd tell her to fuck up too if that happened now. And then we'd hug. Maybe not right away, but we would.


Later she said that if I hadn't winked, and if the dogs hadn't come when they did, then she was about to speak up and say what she really thought about stinky old Granddad. We were  behaving for my Uncle's sake, and for the sake of Pat and his wife. Did Pat and Pattette realise that when this 'wonderful man' tickled their three year old son so much that he wet himself (a fun story they related at the graveside) that the poor kid was probably being molested when they weren't looking? Who wants to be tickled till they wet themselves? I didn't laugh. Oh how he loved children. Should really be on his little metal engraving.


The dogs came and saved the day. This other family were attending to their graves and their two amazing weird dogs ran over to explore. I called them over, and one in particular was ridiculously cute. It was a developmentally impaired bull dog. The owner ran over apologising as this amazing beast lay down on the grass by us and sort of spread eagled it's body flat to the ground. It truly looked like a stoned bull frog.We all were laughing and getting some much needed relief from all the Death, and the girl said "aw sorry, he's a bit retarded, he was the runt of the litter." I took a photo and then realised I'd left my memory card in the computer.


What was great about the graveside visit was describing Robert and Nanna. Sure, ole Granddad was a nasty bit of work, but Nanna loved him and I love Nanna. I only got to know her since Granddad died ... I think that was about 7 years or so ago. Robert was 13 (he'd be 44 going on 45 now!), but it was still good to acknowledge what I remembered of him. He was kind. He had lovely brown eyes.


Nanna had a blokey sense of humour, she was sharp tongued and musically gifted. She was cute. She was hard. She was coy. She was learning to paint in oils. She never gave up on love, deciding she would quite like to get married for a third time should a nice man come along. 


I love how people can be so very many things. Whatever is going on for you, don't stop. It's only too late when you're dead, and once your dead, you're back into the Big Endless Love and will more than likely be recycled into a new life. You won't remember it, so just focus on this one for now.


The best parts of the Whangamata weekend were swimming in the sea with my lovely young cousin, and going down to the wharf with mum on the Sunday before heading back to Auckland. My cousin is such an intelligent and sensitive soul, she's adorable.


Oh, and the sun is shining these days. Very happy about that. Bring me the vitamin D!!




xxx

Got a new Flat! Got a little jobbie! Nanna's Ashes tomorrow!

Holy full moon dogs!

My heart has been beating way too fast all day, cos it's all UNFOLDING and now I'm trying to keep up with my own life!

I went and got an amazing healing with Karen from The Healing Company last week. At least I think it was last week, my ability to measure time is not always reliable. She was kind yet professional as usual, and this time really focused on my breathing. She said I really need to breathe slowly and 'get grounded' every day, and that this takes 20 minutes, not 2 minutes. So that's what I've been doing every day since, and crisp my biscuits and bake me a pie, it's really helping. I would totally recommend her services. I always feel that something has been dealt with or revealed and feel it's a real investment in my mental and spiritual health.

Karen Reid

http://www.thehealingcompany.co.nz/

Since that visit, I found a place to live. My brand new land lady liked me and recommended a job interview at the place she works. It's an organisation that assists ethnic women in building up skills and confidence after going through women's refuge. The job is only part time, and it's low pay, but to teach English to women who have been through hell sounds exactly like my cup of tea. It was emphasised that a big part of the job is being motivational and empathetic. Done!

So now I just need another job as this one won't pay enough to live on. The universe seems prepared to deliver right now. I just have to keep breathing and meditating, then I can be the magnet for All The Good Things!

Mum and I are going to Whanga this weekend to (scatter or bury?) Nanna's ashes. Nanna's youngest son Robert is buried in the Whangamata cemetary; he died when I was 10 and he was 13. My mum never recovered from that really. You can trace my mum's 'issues' pretty clearly to that event. She'd managed so well for so long, but her little brother dying in a freak accident was just too much to bear.

This is going to be a family event, so my Aunty Noeline is flying in from Oz, my cousin Brian and his partner will be there, my Uncle Bruce and his kids, and my cousin Helga. Sort of weird because I'm not close to these people, though I do have a soft spot for most of them. A couple of them have just not connected with me at all, though I have tried. I have to respect the fact that they don't have to be close just because they're family! I wish Claire was here, and of course it will feel strange that Karen (Bruce's ex wife) won't be there. I feel close to both of them. I've decided it will be a good process anyway, a nice little road trip. Mum and I will put on CD's and sing in the car.

I can't get an appointment with the doctor who knows a good deal about ADD until May 10th! Geeze, that's a bit of a wait, but I guess I've waited all my life so another few weeks won't matter.

So, got a nice place to live, a bit of work and a Hilton cluster puff luxury pillowtop mattress topper. The latter has seriously changed my life. I feel like I'm sleeping on a warm cloud. If I get a little bit of insomnia, it doesn't seem so bad, because I'm awake to feel my cluster puff mattress topper. I ly there smiling to myself. Not like the Joker in Batman. Like a girl in a 1970's soft focus advertisment for shampoo.

Okay my little cluster puffs, go forth and do what you will!! Love Cx

I have a crush. Just a little one. Oh, and it's Easter.

So. Easter. To the left is The Easter Cat.

If you're of the Christian persuasion then I guess you might be getting your freak on with a bit of church going and crying about how great it was for Jesus to have died for you. If you're pagan you'll be into the whole renewal and fertility celebration ... cos that's what bunnies and eggs are all about!

I love Jesus, but I'm all for a bit of Pagan fun should it come my way.

Feeling a bit bloody tired today. Not entirely sure why, it's not like I've been scaling mountains or masturbating excessively. Was good having The Sexy Ex over the other day, but a Lover does not a boyfriend make.

Just finished reading a romantic comedy girl book. One of those ones where the girl is depressed about turning 30 (for fuck's sake) and always ends up with some really hot guy who is usually her best friend.

My best male friend is my ex-boyfriend, and he's 25. It's not going to end with a wedding, and neither should it. I suppose in years to come when he does marry someone who laments having to turn 30, I can be an aunt to their adorable children.

As for me, I have crush. This is not a fulfill-able crush.

This is simply a crush for the sake of feeling that thrill of desire run through

your body and soul without necessarily having to do anything about it.

You may laugh, for my crush works for Michael Hill Jeweller. MHJ is a chainstore style jewellery shop that creates a lot of stuff I would not wear. Michael used to have an accidentally amusing advertisement on TV years ago in which he would announce himself most emphatically. My friend and old flat mate Cornelius used to cry out "Micheal Hill, Satanist!" and this gave us many a moment's mirth. Ah yes, those were the days. Or perhaps these are the days.

Anyway, I went to get the latchy bit fixed on a silver chain, and lo and behold, the young man fixing it was SO NICE. In addition to being SO NICE he was wearing what might have been a wedding ring. Oh, and he's probably under 30.

I told him my theory about shop keepers needing velvet chaise lounges to recline on, how this would revolutionize the retail industry. I figure that if people in retail could relax then this would be good for customers. He was mildly amused by this, and I was in one of those moods where I was saying whatever came into my head. I imagined myself to be quite witty.

He was patient, fixed my chain, and looked at me with curiosity when I produced an Indian necklace and asked what kind of metal he thought it might be.

"What is it?" he asked

"Oh," I said

"It's a necklace ... see?" and I held it up around my neck for him to see how it sat. It's one of those ones that does up tight around the neck, then falls in the shape of a triangle pointing towards the breasts. I smiled and said all I had to do now was figure out what to wear with it. Something changed in his eyes. He could see me.

As he continued to repair my silver chain, I noticed his hands. Oh my god. Beautiful long fingers working delicately on silver, black hairs standing out on skin, masculine with a capital M. He had also gone bald young and chose to completely shave his head. With his glasses and uptight white shirt, he looked so straight you'd want to use him as a ruler. For some reason I found this quite sexy. He reminded me of a friend I fell in love with back when I was doing my degree, the same beautiful voice and amazing sweet presence.

We talked jewellery cleaner. I bought some (yeah, yeah.) He asked what kind of stone was on the necklace I was wearing. Pyrite. Fool's gold. I love you. I want to rip off your white shirt and see your dark chest hair. He showed me how bright my silver would be when I used the cleaner. Mm, fascinating. I asked his name. Goddmanit, the same name as the guy I loved sixteen years ago, and the same name as The Painter. Freaky. He asked mine.

"Candice"

"Can-dees, not Cand-is?"

"Yeah, that's how mum said it. Oh, and it means White Hot or Pure and Glowing."

He smiled again. God. Just beautiful.

"And which are you?"

"Both of course" I smiled back, and most gratifyingly, he laughed.

I walked away. I flirted! I never flirt!

I actually found that more exciting than having the super hot 27 year old throwing himself at me the night I went to Golden Dawn and got bullied by the bouncer who resembled my P addicted ex boss.

So that's my crush. Michael Hill Jeweller will never be the same. Does this mean I'm going to start buying gold gate bracelets and big silver hoop earrings? I hope not, but I certainly know where to go for jewellery cleanser.

Happy Easter lovely ones!

Jobs, Hypnotherapy, Selling shit, ADD, Getting Tidy!

Jobs, Hypnotherapy, ADD, Selling Shit, Getting Tidy.

(photo: yes, I sold the dress.)

Jobs:

Here's the latest job I won't be applying for:

You’re passionate about growing both internal and external relationships and keen to be a part of a team delivering great customer solutions!

Rentokil Initial | Manukau City |

If you are a New Zealand woman you will be aware that Rentokil are a company that supplies public toilets with little bins for 'feminine hygiene' disposables. I daresay there will be someone out there who is passionate about internal and external relationships when it comes to soggy tampons and sanitary napkins, but baby, that aint me.

I did apply for another journalism jobbie, only it's entry level and I don't know that theatre reviews and my idea of a witty application letter are quite what they're looking for. I personally think mentioning that I'm not too irritating is quite a good thing, but not everyone would necessarily see it that way. At least I amuse myself, I'm productive that way.

Speaking of jobs, Andrew came over yesterday and we went to the hotpools. He's also gainfully unemployed, so we enjoyed a good soak out at Palm Springs (Parakai). Such an adventure was possible due to the glory of Selling Shit. The part time work I had fell through, but fortunately I didn't get upset, I just feel lucky that I had the extra work even for a short time.

Fortunately I keep selling one or two things a week; a pair of fine cream leather gloves here, a Ben Elton book there. I don't think I'll have much luck selling Ben's offering, there are about four other listings for the same over-sized paperback book - a dark post-apocalyptic nightmare that totally bummed me out.

I don't know about selling my old Ken and Barbie Dolls. Might photograph them having an orgy, might get more mileage out of it. Maybe I could list the photos as art?

Last week I had another hypnotherapy session with Caroline Cranshaw. It was pretty amazing actually. I went with the aim of working on my inability to have a somewhat normal level of order in my bedroom. This meant dealing with old grief and increasing self-respect; something that looked quite superficial ended up being a catalyst to heal deep wounds. In addition to this, she recommended that I talk to a specialist about Attention Deficit Disorder. I didn't take it seriously when she first said it, sort of "oh ha ha ha, I'm ADD!". She said she has met a lot of people in her line of work who have ADD, and that it really would be worth finding out if I have it. She suspects I do.

I did an online survey and it said that although it was no definitive diagnosis, that the score I got put me in the 'likely to have severe ADD' category. God, this would be kind of a relief actually. To have an answer. A way to deal with it.

It's like my mind is a massive library with all these books, but all the books are open, and I see the way every book relates to another book. I tell stories that branch into new stories, threads running through my mind like a tangle in a sewing box. But be patient. I will tell them all. You may be getting tired, but I will tell them all. If I forget today, I may remember tomorrow, and I'll just keep going.

So I've done a little bit of research, and there are some facts about ADD I hadn't realised, such as as 'hyperfocus' being a symptom. I didn't think I could really have it because I can actually focus on one thing for hours if it really interests me. I can read all day. Literally. I can stare at crabs during low tide for an hour or more. I could write this blog everyday, but you might tire of it.

What that means is that people can see the person with ADD being 'disciplined' when something is interesting to them, and they wonder why they can't apply that to other things. Like being tidy. I don't get it either. I wish I could focus on everything. As you can see, I'm definitely leaning towards the ADD camp, the descriptions are just too familiar. The tangled wires in my head are smoothed out when I focus on one thing I'm good at, weather it's writing, or watching something. I often notice things other people don't; I will see the small skink as we walk through the bush, I will catch hawks circling with my flying eyes.

So this is something I'm going to be looking into. ADD and Me. Ha, a book in waiting?

Whatever the case, I'm really grateful to Caroline for suggesting I look into it.

Wish me luck ducks!

x