Oh, but I could be finished

Instead, I am still struggling with this last assignment (apt, that 'assignment' starts with 'ass'). It is a 'read this chapter/passage/testimony and then answer these questions. It is hell. Largely because, well, it's really hard, so I have to try, and also I don't care about what I'm reading, so trying hurts. Hurts bad. Plus, I have to pass this paper, or do it again next year. Core papers can kiss my...

It's due on Monday, and I had really, really, hoped that I could knock it on the head by this afternoon and have the weekend (and next four months) free. Well, pipe dreams. It's killing me. I would sell my leg to get out of this one. Really. Four pieces of gold and a slice of Key Lime Pie. Final offer, folks. 

Otherwise the year has gone more or less swimmingly. I'm not doing amazingly well, but as yet I have not failed anything (yet) and although C's really do get degrees, that's not really what I'm hoping for (except in this haven't finished it yet paper - I do not care about a C for theory - and I have got B's so far in it so a C might even mean I can fail this assignment... oooh, is that possible? Ooooh). Unfortunately, however, I like doing well, getting A's, and usually I'm capable of them. So anything less than an A- and you know I'm dying inside secretly, even when I say: 'I don't care! I just want to get it done! I just need to pass!' Really. So now you know.

I just need to maintain a positive attitude, set up some goals, and finish them, without getting in a grump, hitting a low ebb, sulking, deciding not to go to a party tonight, sulking some more and going to bed depressed. It's easy: I just need to do a good days' hard slog. I managed it earlier in the semester, so why should this last assignment be any different? 

Honestly blogface, what would I do without you? 

(But, like, I havent told you what's really troubling me!) Another time, Lottchen, another time...

Help! Let me out!

I need daylight.

Things I want to argue about

1. 2500 words - culture, democracy and surveillance in the MuseumsQuartier in Vienna. Looking at how culture is defined, and how democratic that process of definition is. Okay, so that's the boring bit. Then I look at how culture and democracy are expressed in the architecture. Then I take a paranoid turn and look at the plan of the MQ, and how its plan is reminiscent of the panopticon prison, where one adjusts their behaviour as they are never sure when they're being watched. And then reflecting on this in terms of culture and democracy. 

(Okay, that is more of a 'have to' than a 'want to')

2. 2000 words - John Cage's 4'33'': composed of silence, in relation to an underground passage at the railway station. Looking at the habits of commuter life in relation to music, basically, and frequency, rhythm, sound and pattern. 

(Obviously I am in too deep with this one and it feels totally unachievable) 

3. Whether or not it is extremely rude to ignore text messages when your friends know you do not pay 20 cents to decline an offer of dinner.

4. Whether or not Julie Delpy's Waltz For The Night (from Before Sunset) is a beautiful song, or if it just confirms all of my fears (which are messing me up something chronic).

Yes, I should just concentrate on the first two. 

And this is the most exciting thing to happen in Wellington EVER

And I got onto it long before the DomPost sniffed it out. The council had a look and decided they wouldn't move the nest until the chicks had left. See you next year thrush?

Another interesting thing that happened was the appearance of this:

Courtesy of Charlotte's ex-boyfriend Brad. Now, I liked Brad, and kept in touch after they broke up because he's a nice chap and had enjoyed hanging out with him while they were going out, but anonymously placing a cake (and accessories) on my doorstep was Pretty Full On. 

(Turns out it was a series of good deeds he did for people, but still...)

(No, I don't feel like that about my friend's ex. But I milked it for the benefit of seeing the reaction of a certain person.)

(He got touchy - without good reason!)

(The cake was delicious)

So I'm Back (ish)

And Blogger seems determined that a new, unmovable header has to be in the top left, in an ugly position from a design point of view, and must replicate what my original title (above the posts) says. Annoyment. So now things are looking a little naked up top, and I had to change the font size to make 'pyrrhamaniac' fit in its space, and oh! Do I feel like blogging now? No...

Probably an explanation is required for my lengthy absence, and it is a very short explanation: laziness. Really I couldn't be bothered, and things like that. But this morning I am feeling restless, and felt like writing stuff, and you know... didn't feel like lying on my bed and reading a book. And maybe we should catch up on what has happened since June the 8th:

* I turned 25. Not as exciting as it sounds, but fortunately it was the first day of mid-semester break, so I didn't have to do anything much. We ate lasagne, I got a cold and took coldral. Thus, no drinking. Poor effort. Will make up for this over the summer. Oh yes I will.

* Am strictly a B student this term. Apart from an A for a presentation and a couple for drafts (which I feel shouldn't really be graded, but anyway) I am getting lots of Bs. I think this is simply because four papers is too many, and although I can keep churning out good ideas, questions and bibliographies, I don't the time or energy for polishing things into A grade assignments. I'm just going to pass. Well, hopefully. I am relying on my 'haven't failed anything I've finished' to get me through.

* Things with certain person have either got better, or worse, or just the same: I can't tell anymore. Sure, interesting things have happened, but they are not appropriate for this space.

* Blogging got so slack I forgot my friends had blogs. Oops. I have since caught up on the news.

* Vegetarianism has moved into 'eating tinned sardines' as I was getting extremely deficient in something and winter is tough without protein. It will continue this way until the end of study. But fortunately I have been put off the 'fish' part of 'fish + chips' for life as Rob had a piece of fish the other day and it was raw at one end. Truly the most revolting thing I have ever witnessed.

* Am considering being a building conservation heritage person and writing conservation plans for buildings that need them, but am slightly put off by the fact that the only people in New Zealand who do this sort of thing are men in their sixties. So maybe I can inspire other people my age to get into the 'industry' (of like, six people) but, you know... 

* Fully intend to spend four weeks from the 20th October (possibly sooner) drunk, and anyone keen to join in would be more than welcome. I feel that it will be cheap, since my tolerance for the stuff has probably reached floor level by now.

Sandy is funny

*Tuesday*

Are you an item?

Are you a couple?

Have you ever thought about it?

You should.

You're both really cute.

Your outfits match.

Not in a matching, shell-suit kind of way.

More like a complimentary thing.

The colours look nice together.

So what have you been doing today?

Couple-y things?

Did you go to the Begonia House?

Did you sit on a bench and hold hands and look at the flowers?

*Sunday*

Are you and Louis hitched yet?

I won't let up until you are!

It's important.

I think of him as my surrogate-little brother.

Rob is nice when you need him to be

Lotte: My friends who don't know him think he's an arsehole and I'm STUPID! Am I a fool? Do you think I'm a fool?

Rob: If anyone's a fool, HE'S a fool.

Lotte: What does everyone else think?

Rob: The general consensus is that he's the fool.

Lotte: And not an arsehole.

Rob: No, not an arsehole. Just a messed-up, cry-baby sookie-baba. (Okay, this line  has actually been uplifted from another conversation.)

Lotte: But you'll tell me if I start looking like a fool, right?

Let's be nice! And mean. And nice and mean.

Sigh. The drama continues. The absence of hugs has been noted. Apparently I have some explaining to do... because oh, apparently it is 'weird'. Yeah, because nobody refuses a hug. That would just be plain dumb. I follow ya.

Not hugging has resulted in some bizarre occurrences, however. Such as the bruise on my hand from Louis demonstrating how hard he could bite, and that it would hurt (I willingly offered my hand, apparently I am a masochist) and on Monday there were also teeth marks! In addition, from Louis deciding to camp next to me on Cat's floor after her house warming (camping - Marae style!) I bore the brunt of some knees and at least one slap ('I was asleep!' - that's debatable, in particular the knee). So Lou, I can't promise the complete absence of contact, but at least the 'hugs are banned' banner is still attached to the fence.

Oh, but I was going to talk about the nice thing I did... but that's not really fun... 

Off the wagon, principles intact.

Our flatmate Andrew brought home a pig. As in, hunted the pig, shot the pig, carried the pig home (for four and a half hours), hung it up and the laundry and disassembled it in the kitchen. When we got home on Monday night, there was half a pig on newspapers on the floor, two legs, a head and some ribs. I am including these details as I was completely freaked out at the time and went and hid in my room. Partly that was to do with the smell, which later just turned out to be burning hair, necessary to get a clean cut. Details! We like details!

Anyway, there now lies most of a wild boar in our freezer. Which Andrew insisted we were welcome to. And suddenly, when Rob cooked some last night, I thought, 'I could have some!' had some. And it was delicious.

I copped some flak for it at work today, but remember I am a vegetarian under the belief that the way we produce meat is unsustainable - growing grain to feed it, using land to keep it - and thus I have no part in that (as well as deep sea trawling and all that). But a wild pig, caught in the Tararuas and cut up at home: THAT I can buy into. (The idea did occur to me to hire him to find me food - that would be cool.)

Although the sight of half a pig was off-putting, at least we were engaged in where our food comes from. And although I can no longer claim to be vegetarian, as I now 'sometimes' eat meat and therefore it would be lame to get into that 'mostly vegetarian' nonsense, I feel ok for sticking to my principles. 

Because finally I seem to have found some... don't know where they came from... 

I concur

Yes I do

'Hugs War' Tops Tory Crime Plans

The Conservatives have promised to make fighting hugs the top priority in their  tough line against crime.

Shadow home secretary David Davis told the Tory party conference: "Some people say we have lost the war on hugs, I say we have not begun to fight it."

He is pledging to accelerate the start of random hug-testing of school pupils and bring a ten-fold increase in residential hug rehabilitation places.

Mr Davis also plans 20,000 extra prison places, declaring: "Prison works."

And he said he would substantially cut immigration numbers.

Under the Tory plans, hugs rehabilitation places would rise from 2,000 to 20,000.

Mr Davis said offering addicts the choice of undergoing rehabilitation to escape prison - a plan unveiled last year - was "no soft option".

"It will mean court supervision, and failure will mean prison," he said, telling Tory activists there were now one million hard hug users in Britain.

Hugs in Schools

A Sun newspaper survey suggested up to 100,000 children aged from 13 to 15 in the UK have used cocaine, said Mr Davis.

"That is why we will support, encourage and accelerate the implementation of random hug-testing of pupils.

"Children need to know that it is not cool to use hugs - it is stupid, it is dangerous, it is illegal. And parents should know the law will be enforced."

Mr Davis said there would be a hugs epidemic with terrible effects on all society if nothing was done. 

"I make no apology for taking a hard line on hugs," he said. "They destroy lives, destroy society and render all our efforts to reduce crime worthless."

(when in doubt, consult party policy of conservative MP's. They do not shirk in standing for a 'tough line on hugs')

Either we are best friends now, or worst enemies, or just really good at wasting time...

(aside from the fact that I bought a pair of stockings called 'kinky knits')

You are:

a) head over heels

b) dumb, deaf and blind

c) incredibly naive

d) none of the above

You can refrain from the following:

a) hugs with someone you shouldn't hug for the sake of your optimism

b) hugs with someone you shouldn't hug for the sake of your mental health

c) hugs with someone you shouldn't hug for the sake of maintaining the untainted sheen of your new jacket

d) none of the above

You will do anything for:

a) your friends

b) your enemies

c) your frenemies

d) your enends

You will not hesitate to call:

a) your mother

b) your yoga instructor

c) Well Hung Joinery

d) God

You haven't (in the past six months) had:

a) sex

b) breakfast

c) cheese on toast

d) a life

You couldn't live without:

a) a bedside lamp

b) a wide assortment of alternative medicines

c) fried food

d) Facebook

If you answered mostly A's: congratulations! You are fucked up! Leave town and burn bridges. 

If you answered mostly B's: wow! leave the person who answered mostly A's alone! You are fucked up! Leave town and burn bridges!

If you answered mostly C's: um yeah hi, I don't think we've met! 

If you answered mostly D's: You will not find God on Facebook. You cannot be his friend.

Charlotte's book is out!

$25rrp. Available at Unity and, on Thursday night, Bats Theatre. Woop Woop! 

Should I Have a Shower Today?

We can go out, says my father, but we have to solve the world's 

problems before we do.

What are the world's problems? I ask.

They are, am I going to quit university? he says, and what will I do for 

a job?

Why haven't I got a boyfriend yet and when will I quit smoking?

Those aren't the world's problems, I say. Those are my problems. Fair

trade and Palestine, I say. Those are the real problems of the world.

All I am trying to do is live an ethical life. Why must you be so harsh 

on me?

You are overly sensitive, he says. You make it too easy to give you a 

hard time.

The thing is, I say, you can't just fight the battles you know you're 

gonna win.

(copyright Charlotte Simmonds - she is a fine lass)

Re: Hugs are Banned

How nice it is to have a little bit of power:

I'll give you a hug.

No, no hugs.

But...

No hugs. 

Okay...

*

You don't want a hug?

No hugs. Don't. Want. Hugs. 

Okay...

So I did not explicitly outline the rules, but this is a lot more fun. Hug? No, I don't want hugs. But look at you. You want a hug! Sucka!

Very Important: You must read this.

What does your hemline say about who you are? Well, apparently, they know me very well indeed:

'A full skirt to the knee is most often worn by women who think of themselves as girls. A skirt that ends bang on the knee shows off the curves of the calf and ankle whilst drawing a discreet veil over the thigh.'

Yep. And I like how they don't say anything about what is in fashion and what is not - after all, its really about what suits you, right? Right?

Hugs are banned, but you can touch my thigh if you like...

- I just think my dad was very irresponsible.

- I could tell you millions of ways in which my father was irresponsible.

- Okay, shall we have a competition?

- Yeah.

- Okay.

- Great.

(pause)

- I don't want to have a competition.

- Me neither.

*

- What happened? I've got your mood!

- Yeah, well, that's because you touched my leg. That's what you get for rubbing my thigh - my mood.

- Can I touch it again and give it back?

- No, you may not touch my leg.

*

and, from the archive:

- I'm not intending to go down the relationship path for a long time.

- You just climbed through my window.

(Okay, now I get it...)

The Sustainability Movement Needs Web Designers!

Honestly - where are all those greenies? Their websites are so ugly. I can only read them if I say to myself: "They don't use their computers anymore, they're saving energy and also they're probably outside saving the world, not inside fiddling with their HTML..." 

I am looking forward to finding a really pretty sustainability website... but sometimes hope fades...

Bird Watching, Part 1

Wax-eyes are my new favourite bird. Screw tuis with all their cliched sing-song, I prefer the wax-eye. I love their movements, their head bobbing, their physicality. They are the mice of the trees, showing me their pale undersides as they pillage the sycamore. 

If they were into that sort of thing, I'd take them down to the Mighty Mighty for a boogie. Wax-eyes, I am sure, would get down to a funky funky beat. I would put money on it, if I had any.

Hugs Are Still Banned!

Lou gave me a very good piece of advice recently:

No hugs. NO HUGS.

and then:

Hugs Are Banned

Hugs Are Banned 

etc.

So far, Lou, I have followed this advice. I last saw the hugger on the 12th, and as such the last hug took place on the 12th. The next day came this very good advice, and purely out of circumstance I have followed the advice.

BUT should the hugger reappear, wanting a hug, I shall tell him this:

Hugs Are Banned

Hugs Are Banned

Hugs Are Banned, Sucka.

Because honestly, scum, what part of 'Hugs Are Banned' do you not understand?

Andrew Bird in Montmartre

Sigh. 

And now we cross live to Lottchen: Lottchen, what has been going on in your corner of the world?

The end is in sight, therefore I think maybe I can take a step back and tell you what I'm up to, without freaking out and drilling a hole in the floor (by spinning madly, if you get my train of thought). And also I'm waiting for the gripping lady-pains to subside before I commit to some serious essaying (excuses, excuses...)

Today I handed in the worst essay I ever wrote, two and a half pages of nonsense that I couldn't be bothered sorting, on a prison scene in Goodbye Lenin! and the historical significance of the interior. I also had to hand in three models, baby-sized maquettes, which were also shamelessly pants in both quality and relevance to the interior and the camera's relation to it. I am so bored with that paper (history of interior architecture) and I fully intend to comment on its irrelevance and lack of content when the time comes for teacher review...revenge is sweet...

Anyway, thankfully that is all over now, apart from a test, and I can concentrate on another paper that is somehow failing to move me... urban design theory and methodology and history. For some reason, when asked to pick a research topic (instead of being assigned one) I manage to make the most boring research question imaginable and are then bored stiff for nine weeks while I try to squeeze blood (ie. an essay) out of a stone (my lagging brain and motivation). Naturally it's better to be doing a topic on your own, rather than fighting over three books with 2oo others like in 1st year, but I don't understand how this happens every time. I bore myself, my tutors, the world...

So I'm looking at Cuba Street, and how the condition of buildings relates to the social aspects of the street. So you have a run down building, with some rather grotty upstairs apartments fashioned from an old factory floor, and a bunch of punks live up there. I'm basically saying that decay is good, therefore, because people who wouldn't be able to afford to live in the street otherwise can do so, and contribute to a diverse community. But then I'm looking at how that diversity can be managed, when its inevitable that the building will be done up to a higher living standard and the tenants replaced with a higher income bracket demographic. (Not that I'm saying people should be made to live in substandard conditions for the sake of social diversity, there are ways to get around it. It just happens that these people like their flat, and they are also contributing to the community at the same time. My tutor pulled me up on this...)

I'm not really a great student in this class, because I'm quite happy to shun all ideas of urban 'planning', and happy to argue that cities build and sort themselves. I'm pushing the idea that rather than holding a grand master plan for the street, it should be allowed to develop itself - albeit with some watching to make sure that overzealous development doesn't spoil the area. But as it already has a mix of ages and conditions of buildings, it makes sense that this should continue - that new things can still happen without an enormous amount of red tape and the danger of the street becoming a museum, a time capsule. Cuba Street works because of its status as something of a walkway of choice (I go out of my way to walk down it each day) and a wide range of people use it (students, professionals, alcoholics, and the diverse cultural cross-section, reflected in the range of eateries). Having buildings in a variety of conditions means a range of rental options, making available spaces for different economic brackets. Thus the services are able to draw in the people who work/live/hang out in the area. Should the council decide that all the buildings in the area need to be restored to their original condition by a certain date, the effect on the community would be major: homogenous conditions + homogenous rents = homogenous economic services = homogenous users. Dull. 

That's a very unacademic picture of what I'm up to, but hey! It worked! I feel like finishing it! I knew that plan would have some effect. It may also be to do with the painkillers finally kicking in...  

An ancient "overheard" from 2001.

One Kate said to another Kate, "I've never met a nerdy Kate."

Can we prove this ancient quote wrong? Has anybody met a nerdy Kate? I want examples...

The high-water mark of nightmares.

Honestly, could a tale of cruelty get any worse than that of the man who locked his daughter in a cellar for 24 years and fathered her seven children? Has anyone written a novel about such a person? Could anyone ever imagine such a thing happening in the world before this week, that anyone could be so disgustingly controlling? Can it get worse?

The thing that bothers me is the way 'experts' instantly swarm around these sorts of bright lights. Experts in what? Their own importance? Who could possibly be trained to deal with the people who emerge from this kind of thing? Did anyone have a plan drawn up for the emergence of a family kept in a cellar for 24 years? I find it interesting that Miss Former Worst Nightmare, also of Austria, condemned the 'so-called experts' rushing to treat the victims. And from the media reports, it sounds as though those kids are actually ecstatically happy....okay let me explain...

Charlotte's flatmate David hypothesised that the 18 year old boy is probably the happiest 18 year old on the planet: gasping with joy at the sight of a cow (a cow!) is so unlike what any other 18 year old would do, shouldn't we embrace that kind of joy? No, because what happened to him was wrong, say the experts! So he should feel angry! Sad! Confused! Etc! But can't we just let him enjoy the sight of the cow for now? And the paddock the cow is in? And perhaps the sunlight too, while he's there? No, let's herd him into a room, make him talk about it...

And then there is the strange idea that TV is useless. Why? Because it was the children's only contact with the world. Did they learn anything? Apparently not - surely there are cows on TV? The five year olds intrigue at the officers use of a cellphone could not have been so compelling if television had taught him anything. So what does it say about censorship, if nothing actually penetrates our knowledge, based on this evidence? Is television too abstract when the reality it represents is unfamiliar? Is it simply a companion to the mundane?

I think the thing that bothers me most about this new low in humanity is the personal level of the horror. Sure, we have orders from way up ordering the killing of millions, the anonymous brutality of people in positions of power, but to think that a person could plan such a vicious and demeaning life for his daughter is truly the worst part of the nightmare. I know they say that stranger danger is the least of our problems, but this is a whole other kettle of fish. 

I have a feeling I'm talking a load of crap, and will wake up tomorrow, see this and think 'God, when did I start voting National?' 

Woe! If only I really was:

Well I'm a-waking up to your crazy shit

And I'm a-leaving now

Yes I'm a-jumping ship

Because your heart is cold

Like a box of beer

And I just can't cope with you my dear