Friday, May 7, 2010

Looking like somebody else

great grandma, moose & mum

my great grandmother, grandmother (moose), mother and me. x

Mothers day

In 1979 my mother and her sister were sitting in a milkshake bar in a small town called Ernakulam in Southern India. My father, a pig hunting, farm roaming salt of the earth type clapped eyes on her and that was that. My existence was a sealed deal. They were married within three months.

Bessy was supposed to have an arranged marriage and the communty was in uproar. The woman gossiped, sighed loudly and cursed the heavens (all the while secretely enjoying the juiciness of the scandal), the men smacked their foreheads in exasperation and indulged in heated debates accompanied by whiskey and late night cards. My stubborn mother stuck to her guns and gained the eventual support of her mother. This was all that mattered.

When they tied the knot a 1300 year old heritage was broken. In 700AD, 60 families from Syria made the voyage to India where they set up a new life. This community, called Canaanites, married strictly within the 60 families keeping the bloodline pure Syrian. Books were kept recording every birth, death and marriage and mum can track her lineage back 1300 years. My brother and I were wiped clean from the books and her heritage was snubbed out from the community forever.

After travelling through Europe mum moved to New Zealand with dad. With her family oceans away, unusual customs and climate and not a single friend but my father, it must have been lonely. She has built an amazing life for herself and the made the most of every opportunity given to her. Bess now has her MBA, manages a veternary and biomedical faculty at a university, cooks the best meals I have ever tasted and most importantly, leaves any boyfriend of mine quaking in their boots with her sassiness.

Happy mother day! x

Thursday, May 6, 2010


I am the firmly uncompetitive type. Lawn bowls, speech competitons and a game of cards are all approached in a very relaxed manner. I'm not sure what happened because I used to be a super fierce carb burning hyper jock who wore adidas tracksuits, trained for 2 hours a day and kicked ass at regional swimming competitions/hockey tournaments. Maybe I over exerted myself in my childhood but the bright flame of desire to be number one and punch the air repeatedly has left me. All that remains is a rather calm feeling and the knowledge that my very best effort is my best.

Last night I attended the Wellington finals for the 48hour film competiton as a contender. I felt serenly calm, gulped back a few glasses of wine and watched the short films with my team. Part of me misses the burning desire, the sweaty palms and rising nervousness. With so much drama the rollercoaster ride of emotions is a lot steeper and the highs are higher. But, like any good drug, the comedown is literally awful despairing over why things weren't done differently and how I allowed myself to lose. I think I am happy to be a calm contender these days. Arguably, I may win less and I could be described as lacking 'passion' but if you're enjoying the ride, who's to complain?

We ended up coming in at second place. For a split second my adidas tracksuit wearing monster self emerged green eyed and jealous. It disappeared just as quickly and then I felt genuine happiness, overwhelmed by the fact we had made it so far. Hearing a theatre of 700 people clapping provided me with me pure elation. I have come to realise guest appearances from my former self are okay from time to time, a bit of a push is good, just as long as I don't rehash those tracksuits.

beating the blues

my impending departure for Londres has been delayed, sure by merely a week, yet it has left me with a mighty dominating case of the blues.

beating the blues;
: kenzo summer
: developing film
: light, light, light
: look up, literally
: hundreds and thousands
: coloured pencils & felt tip pens
: smoked salmon & cream cheese bagel
: up beat playlist, the cheesier the better

Viewing pleasure

To watch:

The Fox and the child
Love at Twenty
The Squid and the Whale
City Lights
Spirit of the Beehive
The first day of the rest of your life
Le souffle au coeur
My neighbour totoro
Lady in white
Female prisoner #701 scorpion: beast stable
Picnic at hanging rock
A streetcar named desire
Wendy and Lucy
Broken English
The graduate
Le amants reguliers
Tokyo story

Wednesday, May 5, 2010


Today in my lunch break I made a trip out to the hospital with my best friend to visit our other very best friend who has to spend a wee bit of time there. We took her out in a rickety old wheel chair away from the antisepticy rooms to a sunny little lawn spot the hospital had rather strangely called 'the labryinth'. The ground was completely covered in acorns and it was a little bit cold but sunny. We peeled the acorns, threw them at each other and imprinted our fingernails on the softness beneath the hard shell. I was reminded, totally and completely of slightly cold days spent outside a long time ago when there is nothing much to do and you are just fossicing about exploring things with your friends. I remember acorn piles, snipping strange plants to make even stranger bouquets and the story of my friends grandmother who went senile, ate a lily and died from the poison.

The subtitled kiss

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

I want I want I want ...

I want to swim

I want to dress up

I want to paint

I want to look like

I want to eat

I want to wear

I want to feel

I want now!

I wish I was ...

Their work is why I studied design and realised I just don't have it, their work makes me choke with jealousy and yearn to possess even an ounce of their creative talent, swoooooooooon

My weekend in pictures part II