and now i'm leaving

naturally i was not expecting to leave so quickly. this happens to me a lot, when I think that i have more time than I do. I was planning on leaving Friday or Saturday to head up to Auckland but my travel buddy just came by last night and said that we can get a ride with her boyfriend and a few others tomorrow. Sooo I'm not one to tell a person no. Not that I really want to. My dad says that he and I thrive in chaos and sometimes I feel that we do. But chaos also wears me out and I need time to relax. This is how summer goes:

I rush around everywhere so I can sit on a beach. Basically I hurry up to slow down. I'm not sure if this is how life is supposed to be. Lately I feel that the only quiet time I have is the fifteen minutes right before right after I go to bed.

But I am excited! I've never been to Auckland and I can't wait for Fiji. I think it will be a good change from Palmy, despite the lovely people I've met here (Tara this includes you).

I'm thinking of going to Thailand in December. Hopefully this will work out. I'd like to find an orphanage or women's shelter at which to work while I'm there. Does anyone know of one?

Hopefully I'll blog in Fiji and put up some pictures. hopefully...

She is Leaving

One of my closest friends here is leaving on Saturday. Rachel and I have hung out almost every day and we go to the Palmerston North Film Society together. Fortunately she lives in North Carolina so we'll see each other.

And it wouldn't be bothering me if the Beatles song "She is Leaving" hadn't come on. And suddenly I remember that this was completely temporary and I am leaving. This was not permanent? And I wonder if any part of my body isn't aware of this. Is it only my brain that knows I'm leaving or is it my entire being? Are my veins aware? Should I announce it to every part of me? I'm sure my fingers know now, since they're typing this out. And my ears must know because I hear people talking about when I leave. And of course there's my mouth. So I figure the word will spread. Either that or it will just be a big shock to the system when I get on the plane.

Bigger Better Faster

I just have a trial with Blogspot and I suppose I should be asking you for help. First I tried to do a link and then I couldn't stop linking my words to a website and then the font kept getting bold and underlined and I discarded the whole thing and "x-ed" out of the whole site. But I got back on and things are fine. I'm just going to keep on experimenting.

The reason I want to spice things up is that I have been inspired by these amazing blogs of my friends. They have links and pictures and lots of things. I feel as though I should be grateful to my readers for anyone looking at such a boring page. Though I have a feeling you wouldn't be doing it if you didn't care for me. So thank you.

My friend Cassandra and I are going to Fiji and it didn't hit me until today as we sat down and made plans. It all looks so lovely! We'll be there for two weeks which may be too long. My main concern is getting sick of each other. This probably sounds hurtful, but I feel that way about anyone. That's why the concept of marriage is so foreign to me; I can't imagine spending so much time with one person! I suppose it's like living with parents, you get used to it. But I am sure my married friends would not draw that comparison.

Currently I'm listening to the soundtrack from Sweet Land, a movie about a practically mail-order bride who turns out to be from Germany. Her husband is Norwegian and I always enjoy a good Scandinavian accent. They make me extremely happy. So do people who come from Wisconsin. Just a good, comical accent. It makes all the difference. The kiwi accent used to mesmerize me but I've been around it so long I'm getting jaded. Well, perhaps not. I still marvel at how we can speak the same language and yet have such different words for things. It's fascinating. Anyway if you're a fan of bluegrass please get the Sweet Land album. It's only ten dollars on iTunes for 24 songs. And while they are short, they are all quite pleasant. None of those dramatic, the-ship-is-sinking-and-we're-all-going-to-die-in-a-matter-of-minutes songs. Those of you who are familiar with Titanic's score know what I'm talking about.

Another failed attempt to get to church. I have a bike here that I got for free. And my friends, I find bikes make me very, very antsy. I don't like riding on busy streets with them. And I've tried to get over this fear because really, it's beautiful here and I like the ride from my university to Palmerston North. But this is mostly all in retrospect. When I look back I remember the beauty. During the ride I tear up from the cold and let my nose run. So elegant...

My ride to church here is a little old woman named Leone (pronounced LEE-own-ee). But I think after a series of two Sundays in which I did not show up at our meeting place she's given up. I tried to write her e-mails about missing those appointments but she never responded. So I think she's washed her hands of me. And I hate asking for rides because I just get so flustered when people give me too many things. People here, especially those I have met at church, are very warm and supportive.

But this morning I felt independent.

This morning I showered, got ready for church, and hopped on my bike. I only had ten minutes before church started because I couldn't find my helmet but no worries!

Then I got lost.

Then at 10:45 (church starts at 10) I just gave up and slowly rode home. Not before stopping at the BP and purchasing some Frank's Ginger Beer and Sparkling Passionfruit and Bitter Lemon. I wish we had Frank's at home. There are some foods I will miss.

This is quite long and I am not sure anyone will have read to this point. But there's what's been going on with me. Oh! And I'm almost-definitely-for-sure-graduating in August! So let the excitement fall from the sky and into our hearts.

Oh! And check out this commercial! It won a few awards. And with good reason, I say.

I won't ask Mother Mary to come to me

Listening to "Let it Be" from the Across the Universe soundtrack and wondering if Paul meant the Virgin Mary or John's mother like people say.

I have a paper due tomorrow at ten AM which is supposed to be between 800 to 1500 words long. My, what flexibility they give! This may be a late night so I thought I'd write before I got started.

I am constantly amazed at the appeal things that are harmful for us have. They're almost like magnets. But don't we want things that make us feel good? Looking at my own life I'd say no. The things that make me feel the best, the most whole, are the very objects/people/Scripture that I run from. It's incredible. And what's even more incredible is that when you resist something bad for you, you often aren't even left with a sense of satisfaction. And even if you are, is a sense of satisfaction going to keep you warm at night? Tonight I avoided something through my efforts and the efforts of another I should have avoided in the first place. And yet I'm sitting in my room with a slightly antsy tummy, my eyes shifting now towards my window, now my cell phone, now my door. And for what? Temporary insanity. That's where I've gone.

I find it interesting that Kiwis don't think of New Zealand as islands. To me, how could it be anything else? I've never really thought of the US as a big country up until now. But after coming to NZ I've discovered we (Americans) are huge and diverse. Or at least our country is. Pretty excited about Obama. Guess who's getting my vote? Teehee.

The weather outside makes my fingers hurt. So no matter how little I want to study and work on a paper, at least I'm not outside.

A change would do you good

We have a week off to prepare for exams and I have only barely begun to study. It is Tuesday. My first exam is officially in one week now and I am here, blogging. But when I did the sample questions for my first exam I got nearly all of them correct. That's how I justify my laziness: I'll be able to answer all of the questions about the Treaty of Waitangi without studying.

I think I need to get out of Palmy for a bit. Or maybe just out of my room. Right now the curtains are drawn because I considered taking a nap, but I've done nothing that exhausts me, so I need no nap.

Lately I've been reading Proverbs and was excited to see Wisdom personified as a beautiful woman. It says that God took great delight in her. It reminds me of the muses of the Greeks, that the finest attributes associated with the arts and creativity are female. I wonder if I've moved away from the competition phase of my life; that is the competition between male and female. When I was younger I used to get so excited to hear that a woman invented such-and-such or was the first to do this-n-that. Now it's not as big a deal as it was. Still, I wonder if this is just innate in people: are we inherently counting the good deeds of men and woman in some elaborate scheme to see who's the better sex? I would suggest that yes, we are. Humans are just naturally driven to be the best at whatever.

As far as what hasn't changed about me: I am not good at solving mysteries. Despite reading so many Agatha Christie novels and watching Clue about ten times, I still don't do it well. Last night at Bible Study we played a game of Clue and I failed miserably. Well, at least I eliminated a few people and got that right. It couldn't have been Miss Scarlett. That was too obvious.

I rented Hitchcock's Notorious from the library today but am a bit nervous because of my last encounter with a copy of the film. When my 15 year old boyfriend (I was fifteen too, don't you worry) tried to watch the movie it turned out to be gay porn. It was a copy someone gave me while they were throwing all their movies out. I really don't believe it was intentional, but nevertheless I'm not going to say who it was. At least I knew he was gay before then! It would have appeared really weird if I was still in the dark.

Going to bundle up and go for a walk.

Oh my friends it has been too long

I'm thinking of apologizing to all of you for my lack of writing. It's a bit sad really. But no worries, at least my personal journal has had somewhat regular entries. Really, isn't the written word more valuable than the typed? I suppose that depends. But I feel a hand-written letter means more to me than one punched out via a computer. And that's not a fair judgment because recently I received a very heartfelt letter that was typed. When I saw it through the envelope I thought it was too formal, it reminded me of something a lawyer would write. But instead it was a beautiful letter that I read outside, under a tree on one of the last days I can wear short sleeves around here.

What hasn't happened since I last wrote? I've made some really good friends and some exciting plans. Let me think of details.

Yesterday my friend Meg (not me, she's from Canada) and I decided to go to Levin and see the Katchafire concert. This is a kiwi reggae group. We decided to hitchhike which is not an obscenely dangerous transportation choice. Nevertheless I've never done it alone and don't plan to. We trudged our small amount of luggage out about a kilometer outside of Massey (our university here) and stuck out our thumbs whenever we saw cars. Meg said I was really enthusiastic. I was trying to be as optomistic as possible, considering I was getting increasingly cold and no one was picking us up. After thirty minutes we got a ride from three pale, skinny Kiwi boys (that means someone from New Zealand) who were really interested in the winter sports in Canada. They only drove us for about five minutes but such is the way of hitchhiking; you can't pick the length of travel time. A recent college grad picked us up after that and drove us to Levin. We walked, hauling our sleeping bags and backpacks under the ever-darkening sky. There were a few hitches on the way, but the highlight was eating our fish and chips outside, on the sidewalk, in the doorway of a furniture outlet. Lots of people spoke to us as they passed; I think they were making sure we weren't junkies. The concert was great and I'm pretty sure I left smelling like pot. I couldn't believe people were smoking at the concert. I'd heard that people do that, but there they were, lighting joints right in front of us. Shocking! We got a ride back to Massey with our friend Ivor, despite planning to camp overnight in Levin. It was raining and didn't seem worth it. I returned home late, shuffled over to brush my teeth and wash my face, and crashed. Missed church the next morning. Which in itself isn't an unforgivable thing, but it still bothered me. Sometimes I think I'm way too obsessed with sleep for my own good.

My room is quite warm, which is nice since the weather is not. My building is older than most of the dorms on campus, and the heating here consists of two pipes on the sides of the windows. When the temperature drops to a certain degree outside the pipes shoot boiling water through themselves. I'm on the third floor and the mechanisms for the water are above my head. Sometimes if I am quite I can hear the boiling water. Our particular building took a very long time to heat up, the maitenence people spent hours working on it. Once I was trying to take a nap, listening to "There Once Was a Pirate" from Spring Awakening by the way, when I started to feel patterings on my pillow. At first I thought it was a mouse. It turned out the roof was leaking all over my bed. It was a sad day as I scrambled to put on a jacket and rush out to tell the guy in my attic that he was leaking water on my bed. He didn't hear me the first few times; I had to yell. And when he did hear me he didn't seem to care. Sometimes it feels that there's an air of apathy held communally in New Zealand. I wonder if it's growing on me.

I mentally prepared to leave a few weeks ago. I love it here, but leaving will not be incredibly difficult. This is a place I'd like to return, but I wonder if that's reasonable. I find that I justify leaving the country so early by discussing how easily it'll be for me to get a work visa here. I'll just come back and work for a while. But this is merely speculation; I have no idea what's going to happen.

What is probably certain is that I will move back home with my mom and dad after graduation. As all good graduates should. But I will not consider this a period of waiting; I should live life as it comes. I keep remembering John Lennon's quote:

"Life is what happens when you're making other plans."

I may get that tattooed on me. Well no, not really.

Tonight I ate with my friend Ivor from Singapore. He prepared Laska but I'm not sure what the laska part of it was. It might have been the liquid, which was coconut milk-based. Maybe it was the deep-fried tofu. Or the sliced fish balls. I am no accustomed to Laska. I think that's the most open-minded way to put it. But there again, I'm just being politically correct. Here:

I did not care for laska and will not order it at a restaurant if it's available.

There. I think that's pretty clear.

Why not post when there is so much to do?

I just returned from watching The Umbrellas of Cherbourg and feel elated. I love good movies! This image comes from the early portion of the movie, when the lovers discover Guy has been drafted. It's a great movie and the best, and possibly the most taxing part of it is, the dialogue is exclusively sung. It was a bit irritating after the first thirty minutes, but you come to expect and enjoy it more and more as the movie continues. And the Technicolor! The movie came out in 1964 and was not originally filmed in color (I think). But the colors in it are so vivid I wanted to wear nothing but bright colors and drape bright, bold wall paper all over my cinder block walls. The movie was so good I felt I was floating when I walked home. It ended happily, but not as I would expect it. Please see this film!

I have two papers due very soon and I have not started on either. I think I thrive on procrastination. It's a nice feeling to get things done when one should, but an equally nice feeling putting things off. And I work so much better under pressure. I think I will go to bed soon and get up at six AM to begin working on my papers.

My friend Cassandra and I are thinking of going to Thailand after classes end. She can only stay for three weeks though. I'm anxious to come home, but I do want to see so many things. I can only hope three weeks will be enough. And what of the rest of Asia? How will I make money? I think I need to become an accomplished writer and live wherever I please with nothing but my computer for company.

I started reading Mrs. Dalloway last week and found Woolfe's writing style to be difficult to follow at first. Now that I am used to it, however, I find it fascinating. She can skip from idea to idea with such ease; the writing does not seem stilted at all. She keeps the mind of the reader constantly at attention. I have had to go back and reread certain passages just because I realize I'm not giving the paragraph all the attention it deserves. Oh! There's one paragraph that I related to, not only as a woman but as a human being who craves attention from everyone around her at all times.

"But the indomitable egotism which for ever rides down the hosts opposed to it, the river which says on, on, on; even though, it admits, there may be no goal for us whatever, still on, on; this indomitable egotism charred her cheeks with color; made her look very young; very pink; very bright-eyed as she stat with her dress upon her knee, and her needle held to the end of green silk, trembling a little. He was in love! Not with her. With some younger woman, of course."

The passage occurs when an old flame returns to Mrs. Dalloway's parlor to tell her he's back in town and is here to seek a divorce for another woman so he can marry her. Dalloway, naturally, finds herself automatically working to reclaim her love, for fear that she may lose him. It's not healthy, but what girl does not do the same?

I'm off to roll about in my bed and which that life were so constantly colorful and I could sing as high as the women do in the film.

i am sorry this is all i can give you

The title is a quote from my brother Will's Valentine's Day card. I keep all four of the Valentine's cards that side of my family gave me the night before I left. They're stuck to my cork board in front of my desk, which is no little thing. The Massey University housing department did not check these cork boards for their... I think accessiblity could be used here. I have to use the hardest thing I have around (usually a book) and hammer the tacks into the board. It rarely works. In fact, it has never worked. I just use holes that are already there. I have no idea what people used that lived here before.

Apart from the cards I have a crumpled ticket from my first rugby game in Wellington. The Hurricanes v. the Chiefs. Very exciting game, but the Chiefs weren't very good and so the Hurricanes won easily. It's a complicated game! I can't imagine ever playing it.

Perhaps more prized than my ticket from the game is the list of recommended books one of my creative writing professors gave me. He focuses on poetry so the list is mostly poets. Alan Shapiro is the only one of the list I recognize.

The three aspects of my life are already on the cork board. And really, if I had to list them in importance I would be hard pressed to pick which one is more important: my social life or my academic career. Of course the family comes first.

Today I listened to a song called "Wagon Wheel" which I then sent to my friend Eric. I think it's a good song for anyone out on the road. Which isn't really me at this point. But since I'm not at home, I find the song relate able.

A friend of mine came into my room this afternoon and declared that my bare walls were making her sick; she's going to help me decorate. The walls are a bright, baby yellow and it does get a little stifiling. But I find I get used to the way a room looks. A person can grow accustomed to pretty much anything. There are darker examples than getting used to an ugly, small room. But I've been so blessed in my life that my little yellow cell is as bad as it gets. Anyone who has seen my apartment in Clemson knows that I am not much of a decorator. But I appreciate the decor once it's up. I like mirrors, which speaks to my narcissism more than anything. Our rooms came with a small mirror. I can see down past my shoulders, but not to my waist. It's good for applying make up. And other girly pastimes in which I indulge.

I apologize for my gender a lot. I've noticed this. It's as if I blame any issues I might have with being a girl. For example, I was in our dorm's basketball team and dropped out. I am not a sports person, as you all know. I felt a need at times to apologize for being such a girl, so easily intimidated by people on a court. This has nothing to do with being a woman, naturally. Oh! and when I cry or want to talk about my feelings I often apologize for being such a girl. What's wrong with wanting to have a 'good cry?' I think in my mind it communicates weakness. Except when other people do it, provided they have a reason. But sometimes we all just cry.

And I ramble. Stereotypically, that's a female trait too. Although I feel this is an untrue stereotype. Men love giving lectures and advice.

Why am I typing blanket statements about the sexes? I took two Tylenol PMs because I have a headache, I may be getting a little drowsy. Good night.

No Right Angles

I don't know what the sound is, but someone...

A few minutes ago I noticed a noise that sounded like an annoying tap. It increased in speed but I continued to ignore it because I figured someone was doing something repetitive and irritating in the room beneath me. As it turns out it was my friend Meg tapping on my window. There was a loud cry and I closed my curtains quickly. Then it registered that it was her. She's sitting out on my balcony (which she's technically not aloud to do, we all have signs on our windows that read "All ledges and architechural features of Hall Buildings are strictly out of bounds. Failure to comply liable to disciplnary action." But she's out there, her dreadlocked hair in a bun, which just fits in my window's opening. We're both thinking about Africa and how lucky we are.

On Thursday I had my Treaty of Waitangi tutorial and spoke with my professor afterward. She's a new lecturer, excited to teach and still using young language. For example, she would say, "girl" after a lot of things she would say to me. She and I spoke about Maori culture and society, of which I knew nothing. Now I have at least a basic knowledge. But one thing we spoke about was the similarities between the Gullah peoples and the Maori. When I went to the Sea Islands to research the Gullah culture I felt as though I appeared a foolish, white girl who was trying to get her kicks by slumming it. I felt condescending. But my professor explained that it is important for non-Gullah people and non-Maori to help protect these vanishing cultures. The society needs help.

Which brings me to Africa. I do not plan on changing the world at all. However, impacting one person's life, letting them know their worth as a human being would be a great priveledge. Still, I feel so awkward and apart, a portion of a priviledged, Western world who has no experience in the ghetto or being poor.

I am too young and too eager to simply give money. I am able-bodied, unmarried, and passionate. Is this not the perfect time for me to go and actively do something? But what is that something to be? Saying I want to go to Africa is one thing, but it's not a country. It's a whole continent, with millions of people with billions of problems. What will I do? What can I do? Something. There has to be something. And I'll find it.

I have real problems with my creative writing class, as it is the first place I have heard about a bell curve. Apparently it helps more people than it hurts, but how can this be? I am not a C student, but our professor told us that the majority of the people will get C's because it is the average grade. If too many people got A's it would mean the professor is too easy. This levels the playing field. I have no idea how. I compare this to Clemson's way of grading, which I feel is far more capitalist and encourages striving for better grades.

Additionally the class wants us to write poems which have a minimum of fourteen lines. How is the creative writing? It's only going to encourage long, wordy poetry which means nothing to the writer or the reader. Our professor told us, in is colorless, odorless way, that "The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams would have received a C plus in his class because it was not fourteen lines. I want to leave this man's tutorial. I was truly disgusted by the way the tutorial (which is only one part of the class, we have an hour lecture every Monday) is run and would like to move to another. I don't think this will happen, but I am debating whether or not to discuss my feelings with the coordinating professor. Maybe he'll sympathize.

Today, before the sun went down, I took a walk and laid down in one of the rugby fields. It was beautiful.

My First Tough Choice

So far in New Zealand I have not had to make tough choices. Most of mine have been pretty obvious at this point: of course I'm going to Wellington because all my friends are going, of course I'll eat another grilled cheese sandwhich because I have no other food options. But today I discovered that I do have a choice to make: whether or not to attend a writer's conference next week instead of classes.

For the New Zealand Post Writers and Readers Week takes place between March 11-16 in Wellington. I just came back from this fair city yesterday, but that doesn't mean that I saw all of the city I want to see. In fact, I saw very little.

What I will probably end up doing is skipping Thursday and Friday classes for the sake of this conference, although I really want to go early. Ian McEwan, the author of Atonement, will kick off the conference on Monday with a reading. Additionally there are lots of interesting discussion tables and lectures throughout the week, such as another reading by McEwan and lots of writers from around the world reading their work and discussing the craft of writing. Oooh! And there's a discussion on the lingering effects of World War Two on literature, with an English writer (McEwan again!), a German author, and a New Zealand writer.

So here's the question: what will help my education more? Will doing something that may impact my writing skills and change me permanently be a better idea than staying at school, which is something I actually came here to do? I may just leave and get there on Thursday, staying through Sunday. Responsiblities are important, but really... I do tend to get obsessed with school as a rule. I am here to learn, but not always from classes. It's what we're supposed to to in college anyway, eh?

Alright I'm going to book something for Thursday and stay through Sunday. The anticipation is palpable...

Hold Me Tight

Ladies and Gentlemen

I just put on my pjs and danced around a bit due to an unforseen fit of happiness. I was listening to Across the Universe's version of "Hold Me Tight" and really getting into it. I picked out my outfit for tomorrow. And that's when I noticed that my curtains were not completely drawn.

Flying

The past few days I have kept close to the dorm. I enjoy having a small room of my own. Still, it doesn't leave much privacy. I know everyone can hear me talking in here, so it's hard to discuss roommates. Not that I have problems with them. I just feel that some of them are very consistent in their ethnic choices for friends. That is to say, they hang out with people who are like them. But as I write that I realize I'm hanging out almost exclusively with Canadians, Americans, and Germans. We all look the same. So it's really the pot calling the kettle black.

Are we naturally drawn to people who look similar to us? Is that comforting, on some level? Perhaps we're too conscious of offending people. For example, I wanted to go to a Chinese restaurant one time with an Asian friend of mine back in high school, but I didn't want to recommend it because, well, she's Asian. All the people I've met here are very much a dichotomy of being very free and open about everything and also being extremely sensitive about other races and physical capabilities. It's interesting. We went to a comedy night last night. Frankly, I am not expecting clean jokes at a comedy tour specializing in university's freshmen orientations. And the girl next to me kept scoffing or saying things like "Oh my gosh" throughout the night. If you have a problem with jokes about people with deformities and anything that might be considered sexually explicit, don't go to a college comedy show! It seems like common sense to me. Unless she just likes to be shocked. Maybe she likes being the offended one. Perhaps there are people out there who really enjoy showing off how P.C. they are. And I'm not sure where I fit into all this. I mean, if someone makes a joke about poop, I'll probably still laugh. We all have our immaturity. But at the same time, racist jokes aren't appropriate. But... I don't think society should be constantly holding it's breath, freaking out about who's going to be offended by what.

If you have time, please enjoy this song from Avenue Q, a very irreverent musical involving puppets. DO NOT LET CHILDREN WATCH THIS! In fact, this may not be an appropriate blog entry for my boys at all. But I think it's something I wanted to discuss, I feel it's important. The song is called "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9CSnlb-ymA

Your New Fire Safety Marshall

Today we had a mandatory hall meeting complete with snacks, games, introductions, lectures, warnings, shushings, cheers, and gifts. And I was named fire marshall of our dorm. One girl conviently left while the Resident Assistants were looking for volunteers and the other girls turned to me. The RA asked me specifically if I would, since I suppose I'm the most outgoing. It doesn't take long for people to realize I have a hard time saying no.

Today I went to an outdoor concert, complete with a steady drizzle of rain and a large man dancing alone for half the show. He was more entertaining than the concert! My video camera wasn't working, which was a shame because you really needed to see him to believe someone was moving that way. He kept angrily moving people away from him so he could do cartwheels right in front of the stage! I laughed until there were tears.

Just a few minutes ago I tried to look for a good template for my resume. I met a woman who...

Okay I have to stop and comment on my newest roommate. Her name is Rea and I have some concerns. She seems nice but she has a lot of friends which are in our apartment constantly helping her to settle in. I've already heard her music from her room several times and... there's a lot of loud talking occurring right outside my window which I am attributing to a group of giddy Chinese girls standing on the walkway talking to Rae as she moves in. A door just slammed. This does not bode well.

Anyway I met a woman who is interested in my work as a dramaturg. She might want me to work on her upcoming show here! Isn't it amazing how these things work? But looking for a resume template to suit my needs puts knots in my stomach. These are the same sort of knots that appeared whenever I tried to do something very precisesly as a little girl. I can almost hear my bones clench together as I get irritated. So I had to stop and write this, simply to wonder why this makes me so antsy. True, I wish my old template would just expand so I didn't have to write a new resume, but that's a minor problem. Hmm.

I haven't been writing in my journal at all, which also sets my teeth on edge. I need to strike a balance between writing for myself and others. Because who my audience is affects how I write.
Last night I went to a party and met a boy who instantly asked me if we still beat black people. He told me he knew all about segregation. I can honestly say I had no idea it would be like this. I didn't expect to come across so much ignorance. Clearly, this is not something limited to the US. I'm beginning to believe that the majority of the population is ignorant, and there are only a few people (relatively speaking) who even attempt some sort of global perspective. Myself, I have learned that what I hear on the news cannot accurately reflect a population. Not that I read about New Zealand in the papers. At all.

a looming threat

I just took a nap because I am concerned about my health. My roommate has had a cough for a year, or so she tells me. I think she's passing it onto me. I find it ironic that I care more about germs than most people and yet I seem to get sick just as often if not more frequently than they. In order to avoid the illness I've started to take three echinacia per day.

I met some New Zealanders yesterday through one of my friends. They're easy to understand as long as they aren't using very short words. I find those difficult to compredhend. I mean, a three letter word can be anything. But if there are two syllables there's a greater chance I can piece together the word.

I found the Christian organization on campus and am a bit shocked at the time they typically meet: Fridays at 7 PM. I just think this time is a little odd since it's so close to the weekend. Frankly, it's not a memorable time. People inevitably are hanging out with friends on Friday evenings. I myself forgot about yesterday's meeting. Hopefully I'll remember next week, but I was planning on doing a lot of traveling on the weekends since I don't have any Friday classes. Hmm.

I am always amazed at how soon my faults emerge when I'm with people. It doesn't take long for people to come to realize I worry about offending people way too much. I've already been chastised for it since I came here. But really, isn't it a bit odd to text someone you've only met a few times? There was a bbq at the river today and I chose not to go but I texted (this is sending a written message from your phone) on behalf of a friend. I got this person's number from someone else. When I expressed an amount of concern I was told that I need to be less sensitive. To me, it's more of a concern about good manners.

I like manners! I enjoy having boundaries with people I don't know too well. Maybe this isn't a good thing, but I just think sometimes people are way too forward. I'm not begging for God to put me back in the Victorian Age, but I think a sense of restraint is always appropriate. But I think my hesitancy of calling people my friends without hearing them use the word first is from the same tendency. I think I'm getting better about that though. It's a concern for rejection, is what it is. It's a fear of people. Of Man. Yes, with a capital "M."

There's a foam party tonight but I just can't imagine that's very sanitary. A few of my friends are going to a party at some guy's apartment so I'll probably go over there.

I can feel my camp tendencies beginning to seep in. This is the theory that I make a lot of friends and then withdraw because I'm afraid they find me annoying. How childish! But even now I'm paranoid about coming to a party to which I was not personally invited. But I'm going to break through this and ignore my feelings.

My room is a wreck.

My First Ephiphany (of the trip)

Today I hung up any clothes that I view as "fancy." These included several shirts and a few skirts. It also included my two jackets that I brought, since they're too bulky to fold. And I am amazed at how much stuff I have.

There's a Canadian here named Megan. She has dreadlocks and I believe the best way to describe her is cool. In fact, she's amazing. She takes the time to get to know all of the students in our hall of dorms, which is known as Kairanga Court. Perhaps the most admirable thing is she doesn't shy away from pronouncing the somewhat intimidating names of the non-Western international students. She listens. She drinks tap water and doesn't think anything about it. She leaves her dorm door open almost all the time because in her mind, if something gets stolen it's just an object.

And then there's me. Through her actions Megan illuminated lots of things I'd like to change about myself. For example, I avoid saying the international names because I can't understand them when they're spoken to me, nor can I pronounce them clearly. I've coated my face with make up every day that I've been in New Zealand. I love bottled water, despite knowing that the tap water in Palmerston North is totally drinkable. And I have so much STUFF! I'm trying not to be too hard on myself, but man! My grandmother, my mom, and I went through my luggage twice to weed out unneccessary items, and I still over packed. When I was hanging up my clothes I noticed that several of my pieces of clothing have never been worn at all. I'm saving them for a special occasion. Because looking really good, or at least wearing brand new clothes makes me feel really good.

I love clothes. I love Pellegrino bottled water (the kind with bubbles). Oh! And the big one: I want to attract male attention by looking pretty. I don't think these are crimes at all, but I do think they can be carried to an extreme. And I may have passed the level of extreme. For example, I haven't had any water all morning because I can't bring myself to drink the tap water. I want this to change. It's going to change. Fortunately I don't feel like I'm going it alone. The greatest thing about my faith is that I can struggle with something and know there's always room for error, but I am allowed room for mistakes.

All this excess makes me want to take up a vow of poverty. I think I need the Peace Corps far more than they need me.

Forced Silence

Good morning!

This will be my blog for my trip to New Zealand and perhaps continuing. I chose the name because... well I'm rather tall. And trees are tall. And I'm blonde with blue eyes. Plus there's a tree with yellow fungus growing on the trunk outside my window which I can see now. Currently I'm sitting in silence because I can't get my computer to play my music. In fact, only select sounds are coming out at all. I'm more than a little nettled, which illuminates my complete dependency on my music.

Today I am skipping a large portion of the orientation. There are several reasons for this. The first is that I've already had an international orientation. Massey wants us all to go to hear the same people say the same things two times. Additionally, I had freshman orientation at Clemson three years ago, and it's still pretty fresh. By that I mean I know I have to make friends and get my own drinks so no one spikes them. So I feel these are legitimate reasons. My third reason is less so. This orientation is mostly for the new freshmen, who are all about three years younger than me. While I'm willing to make friends with the younger set, for the most part they're all concerned with making the friends who will be staying around with them for a few years. As opposed to my lengthy stay of five months at the most. One girl is going to take me to Wellington, however, which is pretty stellar.

I have heard I'm in the crappy part of the country and it's still the most beautiful place I've ever seen. I keep taking out my video camera and recording in silence, because what can I say about this place? When you see it all you can do is giggle and hold your breath. I am spellbound. And I may take a walk today alone, just for a change of pace. I've made friends and solitude seems unnatural here.

At the orientation dinner two nights ago a speaker came up pretending to be from the U.S. The first thing he did was apologize for being American. People clapped and cheered. What?! Even if you don't like the country's politics, why are we the only people constantly apoligizing for coming from our country? I've met several men from Pakistan and Iran and NO ONE has apologized for coming from those countries. The French never apologize, to be sure. Apparently we're supposed to repent of our nation entirely. I was the only American at the table who didn't clap and cheer when that man (who wasn't even American, it was all a joke) apologized for his supposed ethnicity. Meanwhile, several people have reminded me that they're not terrorists just because they come from the Middle East. I met a man in my hall who informed me that just because his name was Hussain (spelling?) didn't mean he had a bomb stuck to himself. It's like they're all waiting for me to scream and duck when I see them coming because I believe they're all suicide bombers. The best way to describe my feelings is nettled, and perhaps that's an understatement.

I have this fear that I'm missing something important in my plans for the day, although I am not. I am anxious to get to the grocery store because I'm a water snob and ran out of my bottled water yesterday. I'm rationing the last bit so I can take my vitamins. Most of the students I've met who are from America are not proud of their country. My views on the Iraqi war may be close to theirs but I'm never going to be ashamed to be an American. How's that for cheesy patriotism? Yeah, you like it.

Pictures will follow later. I'd like to put up video, but I don't have a digital video camera. Hint hint. My birthday's coming up, after all...