One Thing

I want to do… a lot of things in my life. I want to do far more things than I am likely to actually accomplish. I’m alright with this.

It’s impossible to go in every direction.

(I’m pretty sure that trying to go in every direction is the definition of going in circles.)

I think the fear that I’m fighting with right now is that the direction I’m going to pick… won’t be good enough.

It’s not so much an idea of going in the wrong direction, as I’m quite familiar with a compass rose, and nowhere is there a “wrong” direction*.

It’s the knowledge that to get anywhere I must pick a direction and commit to it, and in committing, I am inherently…not going in any of the other possible directions.

So, wherever I end up choosing to go – it doesn’t have to be The One True Path (I really don’t think there is such a thing) – but it does have to be fulfilling enough to justify not having gone a different way.

I think maybe that’s one of those decision-things that doesn’t ever go away. Weighing options to try and choose the road with the most potential.

*Really. I promise that’s now what the giant “W” means.


Mystery Cheese

There is a block of cheese in the fridge. It’s really pretty good, but I have no idea what it is. The label on it just says


and apparently has 38% less fat than cheddar!

Is any of that helpful?

No. Not really.


What are you cheese?

What are you?

Have I…Found Heaven..?

Stephen Fry has a show where he travels the world and finds endangered languages and dialects.


Stephen Fry has a show where he travels the world and finds endangered languages and dialects.


It’s like….perfection in the form of television.

If you could bottle that shit, I would be addicted.


All I can say is…

“Show. Where have you been all my life?

It’s okay…you’re here now.

You’re here now.”

Paused Brain Syndrome

My brain has been put on pause, and I’ve managed to misplace the remote.

This is exceedingly unfortunate, as , In the way of that whole “Newton’s Law/ conservation of energy” thing, it always seems more difficult to get going again, after I’ve found myself in stasis.

I’m not very good at down-time. I find that I never quite know what to do with myself.

I’m pretty good at managing to fill up my life, so often I don’t really *have* downtime; however, this also means that I am less accustomed to coping with said downtime.

Often, my response is to eat copious amounts of ice cream.

I am currently trying to remove that response from my playbook-of-life, and have found myself somewhat at a loss for finding new coping methods.

This leads me to conclude that I should learn how to just get over it, and figure out some kind of manual override for my Paused Brain Syndrome, but I certainly didn’t manage that today.

A Moment in the Stillness

I have found myself in a space for the next few days where I have…very little to do, and even fewer distractions.

This, for me, usually leads to either A) being really, really unproductive

or B) fretting over future plans that will pretty much never come to fruition.

I really need to come up with a better way to kill time.

Tragedy Has Struck

This morning, there was a National Tragedy for New Zealand…that took place in San Fransisco Bay.

After 17 races, fraught with wind delays and weather cancellations, The America’s Cup, was, sadly, kept by Ellison (the Billionaire Dickrag) and his Team Oracle U.S.A.*

Unfortunately, Oracle thoroughly trounced the Kiwi team this morning, winning by 700 meters.

I watched the final race in a coffee shop, surrounded by folks in red socks (the New Zealand good luck charm for this race, apparently), who were swearing quite prolifically and sharing some genuinely uncharitable thoughts (“Oh, can’t the mast just…fall off or something?” “Maybe someone will fall off the boat!”)

Honestly, I think it’s really too bad that the New Zealand team didn’t win back the cup, because really…the U.S. doesn’t care.

Here, the America’s Cup is the headline, with a full page spread of skipper Dean Barker, on the way to the final race. I think in the states, the only comment anyone has really had is that it’s dragged on for about twice as long as was originally planned.

Having the America’s Cup in New Zealand would have meant a refurbished harbour in Auckland, and a significant amount of tourist interest generated.

In the U.S.A., I think the only person benefiting is the team owner, Ellison, who has poured over a billion dollars into winning this title.

So… a sad day for New Zealand, and a good day for a smarmy, asshole billionaire.

Sounds like business as usual. :/


*This so-called “U.S.” team has, I think only one U.S. citizen on the boat, and they kicked him off after not winning during the first week of racing. Oh yeah. Feel that National spirit. >.<

People On Buses

When I left for New Zealand, I ended up ditching my mp3 player as well. For folks who don’t know me, this is distinctly significant change from my normal pattern of life.

I am usually The One With *ALL* The Music.

If people are going on a roadtrip, I have 50 hours of music on an mp3, and anywhere from 25 to 60 C.D.’s.

I am virtually never without music.

However, not having an mp3 player has also meant that I no longer have headphones.

Headphones are a seriously interesting addition to social interaction, in the way that they sort of…absolutely prevent it.

Not having headphones has opened me up to all kind of delightful things, not the least of which being…people on buses.

The first woman I met on a bus has now turned into a potential job on a dairy farm, with possibilities of landing a spot on a yacht as a cook.

The second time I got on a bus, I met this amazing Maori woman, who fed me half of her sandwich for breakfast and gave me her contact information, just in case I ever found myself up in the Far North again, or I ever needed anything in New Zealand.

I have met jet-setters and farm-girls and faith-healing missionaries who can apparently see demons. (I’ve even run into folks that I’ve met before, which is really saying something, because I only know about ten people in New Zealand, so running into one of them at a bus stop is pretty much twelve kinds of crazy.)

Everyone seems to ride the bus here. A bus ticket isn’t the socio-economic indicator it is in the United States. In New Zealand, a bus is an economical way to get from one place to another.

It’s sort of what I love about airplanes, but better, because buses stop so passengers can get off and stretch. 😉

So, like…New Zealand is Beautiful..? Or Something Like That..?

I thought that I was going to be exploring the town of Whangerai (pronounced “fah-ng- er-ray”, as a “wh” is the labial-dental fricative in the Maori tongue, that is elsewhere simply referred to as “f”.

I thought I would be wandering into town, to get lost (as is my way), and then perhaps meet some folk, maybe find a shiny museum or coffee shop or art gallery.

Instead… I found


And then my day was more-or-less filled with




which continued with


I mean…there was a bit of


as well, but y’know. Whatevs.

So far, I have been operating quite efficiently on the basic principle of not really having any idea of where I’m going. I’m not really asking questions, and certainly not doing any research. I’m just going with what looks good.

While I am quite sure this will come around to bite me at some point, for now, it really seems to be working out quite well.


An Obsession with Beauty

Why is it then women have to believe they are beautiful?

Why is beauty valued above…everything else?

I want women to feel beautiful, because…it often feels like physical appearance is the only social currency afforded to women. When women greet each other, it’s a comment on what they’re wearing (“Oh, you look great in that color.” “Your hair looks fabulous today.” “Is that new?”)

It’s important for a woman to feel beautiful, because if there is one lesson that pervades culture, it is that “Women are meant to be beautiful”. It’s why Snow White got poisoned, it’s quite literally the only trait ever spoken of in The Princess Bride, it’s the one thing

Women have the responsibility of being physically attractive, and it gets culturally mandated to continue.

A woman’s job it so be beautiful.

So what if we…weren’t.

What if we could get to a point where beauty wasn’t a factor. I mean, it’s nice to like your appearance, but what if instead of wanting to be beautiful, women wanted to be strong, or courageous, or intelligent.

In every plot that I can remember, when it’s supposed to be celebrating a woman having traits that could be valued independently from beauty, it’s not. It all has to be additional to beauty. A woman can’t prove her intelligence until she believes she is beautiful. A woman can’t be strong unless she believes she is beautiful.

There are so many stories about a man reaching a point of competence – physical appearance is never mentioned. Physical ability is, but beauty and fitness are really only barely related.

There are no stories of a woman gaining competence through being competent, because it’s not enough for a woman to be good at what she does. There is a reason that every woman on a cop show runs around in high heels. It’s not enough to be good. A woman must be good *and* beautiful.


I want women to feel beautiful, if that’ s what they need to feel successful and fulfilled.

I just think that physical appearance shouldn’t be a reflection on someones life-worth.

I wish that women didn’t feel a need to reassure each other in their beauty, because women were confident enough in their other abilities that beauty was an afterthought.

I don’t think we’ll ever get there, but it sure would be nice.

Two Oceans in One Breath

Yesterday I went surfing down sand dunes. Apparently it’s a bit of a thing, here in the Far North of New Zealand.

I met some really amazing folks on the journey out to the lighthouse on Cape Reinga.

I also got to walk up a staircase that had been carved into the center of a giant tree stump.

It was pretty much like walking into Lorien.

Going from the Seaside to an Elven forest. Not bad for a days journey.