why make it public?
Thursday 17 March, 2005
Here in New Zealand, blogging is only now gaining entry into the popular consciousness. I've had some reactions from my community about this blog that I can only describe as dismayed puzzlement...sort of like "Sure, Helen, you could write your journal on the Internet everday where thousands, even millions, of people could read it...but why would you WANT to?" I think it isn't too much of a stereotype to say that we New Zealanders are pretty reticent about our inner lives and emotions. I've been trying to articulate why I want to do this, not very well...but luckily for me, the breathtakingly honest and talented self-taught girl has already done it beautifully. Here is a snippet from her "If you know me In Real Life Manifesto", which is worth a read:
"So why make it public? you ask. Why not just journal at home? I've been searching for that answer for a long, long time, and the best I can come up with is that the words have more meaning when they go out into the world with the potential to connect with someone else. One of the greatest things about my journal experience have been the emails from people--over and over, those emails remind me that I am not alone. .. I do this as a writing project of sorts and out of a desire to share and interact with a larger community. I've met some amazing people through this website. I have no regrets."
So there you go.
I'm supposed to be packing right now. I hate packing. The only thing I haye more than packing is unpacking. I hate it even more now that I'm a mother because I have to pack for three. And if I don't anticipate every single thing that the boys might need, they won't have it and it'll be my fault.
I'm not good at packing. Once we went on a beach holiday and I forgot to pack our swimming gear. Another year, we went to my parents for Christmas and I forgot to pack the Christmas presents.(Boy, was I popular!), and another time, I was so anxious about packing everything Willoughby might need that I packed 100% perfectly for him, but then arrived at my friend Sarah's house in Wellington only to discover I had left my whole bag behind. So I had to wear the same clothes for days, and clean my teeth with my finger. Ick.
I've turned into one of those nana-ish people that thinks "ooh dear, what about my garden?" when they go away. Will the lemon tree survive without it's weekly feed? Will the container plants get enough watering just from the rain? Will there be any vegetable garden left when we get home or will it just be one huge tangle of weeds? You might be thinking, "Couldn't you ask a friendly neighbour to look after it for you?" to which the answer is, "Honey, it just isn't that sort of neighbourhood." On one side the neighbours have a garden of cutty grass and rusty ex-bicycles, and on the other side...well, all I know about that neighbour is that he has loaded guns in his house. He told me that about the third time I met him. We haven't talked much since. So my wee plants will have to struggle on without me.
This is getting long and let's face it. I have nothing of substance to say today. I'm just procrastinating. I'd better go and start working on the two-page packing list. Let's hope I don't forget to pack the baby tomorrow - his grandparents really want to see him.
Posted on 17 March, 2005 | 2:54pm | 0 comments |
opportunity
Wednesday 16 March, 2005
I'm loving the Moomintrolls already - such wit and wisdom for a childrens' book! This is from the very first page:
"It's the right evening for a tune, Snufkin thought. A new tune, one part expectation, two parts spring sadness and for the rest, just the great delight of walking alone and liking it."
More rant about op-shops. I love it how in New Zealand we call second-hand shops 'Opportunity Shops'. The word 'opportunity' has such a positive sound, it's like 'possiblity'...anything is possible. It's like the shop is inviting you to take the opportunity to come in and find some treasure.And believe me, I take the opportunity to explore op-shops weekly. I'm seriously addicted. Much more exciting than the UK's class-bound 'charity shops' or the rather depressing USA noun, 'Thrift Store' - which smacks of parsimoniousness, or worse, desperation.
Among the books that I picked up in the 'Free' box at the op-shop yesterday were: Sweet and Savoury Cooking with Gelatin (UGH!), Graded Tunes for Junior Recorder and I think about Jesus. The latter has very scary 1950s pictures of spacey-eyed children acting so benevolently towards small animals and the elderly that you just know they will grow up to be serial killers or CEOs of mulitnational oil conglomerates. It's easy to see why the books were in the free box!
On Saturday, my wee family is off to Taupo for a holiday. We didn't have a holiday this summer because we had Magnus, so I'm feeling like a break is overdue. There is no computer where we are staying (which is probably a good thing in terms of trying to "get away from it all") so the site will be a bit quiet next week.
On my holiday, I want to:
go for a walk somewhere beautiful every day
bathe in the hot pools at least twice
check out the local op-shops
take Willoughby out on the lake in a boat so that we can play pirates
knit a fluffy, funky scarf for winter
write some snail mail letters
sleep
sleep
sleep...
Posted on 16 March, 2005 | 2:53pm | 0 comments |
prospect cottage south
Tuesday 15 March, 2005
Here is another shot of Willoughby's bean vine.
The frame that it is climbing up is springs from an old mattress. One day we were walking home from the library and I saw it rolled up next to somebody's rubbish on rubbish day. I got that "I have a plan!" glint in my eye and swooped. I'd just been reading about Derek Jarman's amazing garden at Prospect Cottage. He used all sorts of old metal and wooden junk to astounding and beautiful effect. So, I chucked Willoughby out of the pram and bundled the mattress into it and we walked (very slowly) home. Willoughby grumbled the whole way (fair enough, too) and I got all sorts of disapproving glares from passers-by. I was aware that I probably looked like some desperado crack-mother, like I had been walking along shouting "Any old iron! Bring out your bones" or something. But hell, I'm not one to let disapproval get in the way of art! While my little garden is no Prospect Cottage, I'm pleased with the way this looks. I like the spirals that the springs make.
I just went op-shopping. I hate how op-shops have cottoned on to the whole 'retro' fashion thing and now have 'retro' racks which they CHARGE TWICE AS MUCH FOR! Pah! It's like you have to pay more for having a bit of style-savvy. (Grumble grumble.) It takes a lot of the fun out of op-shopping. I didn't find any clothes today, but I did get a whole lot of 1920s-1950s childrens' books that were in the 'Free' bin. I'm going to hack them up for collage.
In other news, my book groups' book this month is a Moomintroll book! This is very exciting, as my dear friend Maria has been urging me to read these books for as long as I've know her. Also, our book group has had some rather dry reads lately - I won't mention titles lest I offend someone, but one was about the man who discovered latitude...yes, latitude (yawn), another was written from the perspective of a tiger (oh dear) and even had a tiger sex scene in it! (shudder).
Now it's time to go and get Willoughby from kindergarten and hear about his adventures with play-dough, sand and paint. He likes me to solemnly inspect his lunch-box when I arrive. Then he says "I'm berry good of eating my lunch" and I reply, "Yes, you ARE berry good of eating your lunch" even though it bothers Fraser when rather than correcting Willoughby's speech, I adopt it! It's usually empty except for the box of raisins. He doesn't seem to like raisins, and yet when we are packing his lunch each morning he insists on having some. I just put the same box in and out all week. Then on Friday, I eat the box of raisins and on Monday, he gets a fresh one to reject.
Posted on 15 March, 2005 | 2:52am | 0 comments |
it's about bean there
Monday 14 March, 2005
Here is Willoughby after his daily bean-picking session.
His kindergarten class grew a bean each last December. He bought his home at the end of the project and we planted it in our vegetable garden. Now it is about eight feet tall. It has become like another family member. Willo goes to 'visit' his been several times a day. He also talks to it. He picks beans off it hourly, then puts the beans in the fridge - each on their own plate. The fridge gets very full of plates!
This is going to sound weird, but I think his bean has helped him deal with the big change of having a new baby brother. The bean is like his imaginary friend, except it's real and not a person. At the very least, the bean is always there for him, which Fraser and I haven't necessarily been since Magnus was born, just because a baby takes up a lot of time and attention. Poor Willo. I'm glad he's got his bean.
I feel like I've been a bit grumbly lately, so here are some joyful things:
"I am swimming in successive and simultaneous joys." -Collette
a new tea I've discovered that is a mixture of licorice tea and indian spice tea...yummo!
the days have that autumnal sharpness
'Truth and Beauty' by Ann Patchett - I wish I could write as crisply and honestly as this
doing the yoga 'child' pose on the floor while Willoughby drive his little cars up and down my back - next best thing to a massage!
my new sneakers with flames up the sides, like 1950s hotrods
eating sweet cherry tomatoes straight off the bush, warm from the sun
Magnus's feet - they are so expressive, like little sea anenomes
Posted on 14 March, 2005 | 2:40pm | 0 comments |
life on baby-time
Sunday 13 March, 2005
I'm quickly learning about the challenges of having two children. Magnus has colic this morning, his wee tummy hard with the pain of it. This means constant crying unless I am sitting still and massaging his tummy. It is impossible to sit still and massage him when I have to get Willo fed, dressed, lunch-box made, tooth and face scrubbed and then take him to kindy. So, we forged ahead, doing all of this with a back-drop of howling baby. Nothing like the sound of your baby wailing in pain to get your stress levels up to stellar. Magnus obligingly fell asleep in the pram on the way to kindy and back, but as soon as we got home it started again. Now I'm typing this with crying child sprawled across my knee...typing with one-hand.
I have papers that need marking ASAP and a million other things on today's to-do list...but I guess I'll be spending the morning sitting on the sofa and rubbing his tummy. It's just the way it goes...but I do find it hard to be 'zen' about it, sometimes.
Welcome to life on baby-time.
Posted on 13 March, 2005 | 2:40pm | 0 comments |
spit and Snot
Saturday 12 March, 2005
I just spent an hour taking photos of my own feet for this site. There is a bit in the film 'Lost in Translation' where the girl says something like, "I thought about being a photographer for a while. But really, I just used to take photos of my feet." (Please feel free to e-mail me the correct lines, this is from memory.) Anyway, that was me this morning. Playing with photography...taking pictures of my own feet. I did feel a little silly, but mostly I enjoyed it.
Bjˆrk's first band was a teenage punk outfit called 'Spit and Snot'. Poetic, huh? Our house is the currently the house of 'Spit and Snot' - we all have yukky, spilly flu-bugs. The only thing rougher than your children getting sick is when you get sick too. Mamas don't get sick days. I've just had to keep on keeping on...through the strep throat and aching bones.
Last night Fraser and I tried to cheer ourselves up by watching 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind' on video. I loved it. It's going on my list of top ten best 'quirky girl' films, along with the likes of 'Amelie' and 'Pieces of April'. It made me want to dye my hair...but I will try to resist as my experiments with hair dye usually end in disaster.
I think part of the reason I got sick is that I've been so determined to 'cope' with having a new baby. With my first child, I had PND, although I didn't let myself admit it until he was nearly two. This time, I went to see a counsellor before the birth so that I could avoid it happening again. She was fantastic, and I've been really happy since Magnus was born. But, in trying so hard to be 'Super Coping Woman' I let my quiet, meditative time slip. You know...those sitting quietly with yourself moments... daydreaming... doodling.... surfing the inside of your brain. So now I'm sick and have to slow down.
Today we walked by the river. Willo and Fraser threw stones into the water. Magnus slept in his pram. I decided to look for a heart shaped stone to put on an old printers tray that I have on the wall - it has things like little bird's nests and tiny dolls displayed on it. I walked slowly along, picking up and putting down smooth, sun-warmed stones for about an hour. And I didn't find one. And the looking was bliss.
Posted on 12 March, 2005 | 2:39pm | 0 comments |
Things
Thursday 10 March, 2005
There are worse things than having behaved foolishly in public.
There are worse things than these miniature betrayals,
committed or endured or suspected; there are worse things
than not being able to sleep for thinking about them.
It is 5 a.m. All the worse things come stalking in
and stand icily about the bed looking worse and worse and worse.
-Fleur Adcock
I'm awake all hours of the night lately, breastfeeding Magnus. Usually I either wake up enough to read a book, or just sit there, gritty-eyed in a meditative stupor. But sometimes, my brain turns on and I get the night terrors.
The night terrors are when all logic and reason leaves me and all of my worst thoughts lurk around my head like lazy blow-flies. Last night, it was around 3.30 a.m. and the thoughts were something like this:
"I'm a terrible friend, all of my friends are going to abandon me if I keep on being so crap. I'm a bad mother - I don't have enough compassion and patience to be responsible for small children. I'm a fraud - a person who goes around claiming to be a writer, and then doesn't write. Fraser is going to leave me. I'm fat, old, lazy and poor..."
Real nice stuff. It's like the bad fairy is sitting on my shoulder, yelling in my ear and the good fairy has gone to Vegas for the weekend. And it's really hard to get back to sleep after being so steeped in this crapola for an hour or so.
So this morning, I'm feeling a little battered. Today I'm going to make myself lots of cups of peppermint tea and try to go gently through the day...
Magnus is a very pukey baby. I'm going through about five shirts a day. This morning he did a massive puke all over me. It's hard to dredge up any feelings of glamour when you have hot baby-sick running down your cleavage.
He always grins heartily after a big puke. I'm sure it's just because his sore tummy feels better afterwards, but sometimes, I swear he's laughing at me. Today, he practically giggled and it looked like he was thinking, "Damn, Mama, you got PUNKED!"
Posted on 10 March, 2005 | 2:37pm | 0 comments |
welcome to my blog
Tuesday 8 March, 2005
"I expressed some very long felt and deeply felt emotion. And in expressing it, I explained it and laid it to rest."
-Virginia Woolf
To me, this explains why people journal and blog. Having inner thoughts made tangible makes them easier to deal with. So welcome to my blog: electronic confessor, cyber-therapy, pixelated doodle pad, unblinking eye of self-indulgence...
I have been a passionate journal-keeper since the age of 13. There is an art-deco wardrobe full of old journals in my studio. I think I will always write in paper journals first - it's something about inky pens, the scratch of paper and immediacy...but I have been so inspired by my favourite blogs, it felt like time to tip a tentative toe in the water myself.
With a new baby, a four year old son, two classes to tutor, a part-time admin job, a writing career to work on, a huge garden to maintain, myriad creative projects to attempt, and sleep to be squeezed in, now is the perfect time to start. (Ha!)
I hope I'm not too delusional in thinking that I have something interesting to say. Stick around and see.
Posted on 08 March, 2005 | 2:36pm | 0 comments |