Living Your Last Days

This article is extraordinarily interesting. (Originally noted on this blog, a quality read.) The basic discussion is how you would spend your last days if you found out you had three months left to live (or any small amount of time really). The article discusses on man's take. He was a successful business manager who decided to handle his remaining days alive in a similar fashion, organising and prioritising in order to optimise.

This begs the question -- or it wouldn't be an interesting article -- what you would do with your remaining days? I have to say, I don't know how entirely different I would be currently living. Alright, alright... I would say I blow my savings, but I do a pretty good job of that now. I try to scrimp and save, but I'm frankly rubbish at it. I can scrimp and save for short periods of time if I can splurge it later (holidays, presents, etc). I would say that I wouldn't bother with my Masters. Again, truth be told, I am not overly stressing about it currently. I read, yes. I take notes, yes. And I will be full on later on... but right now? How would my daily life change? Um... I think I would make more time for people. But shouldn't I do that now?

I guess I find myself in a different place than typical when I analysed this perennial (doesn't it always pop back up as a heartwarming story?) rhetorical question. I'm not sure if it's good or bad that I am living in such a manner. Does it mean that I am just plain ol' happy or does it mean that I am the grasshopper in the grasshopper vs the ant story? My dad would say it's a matter of balance. Enjoy today while planning for tomorrow -- what else can you do?

So Dreamy

It's been quite a while since I related one of my crazy dreams. This morning I woke up absolutely exhausted (quite antithetical to my sleeping hopes) because I had just been going through this maze. I think the maze was loosely based on this cool life sized maze I went to in Wanaka (here in NZ). But there was a much more desperate need to get through it. I was racing ahead of some unnamed something-or-other and kept running into people I only sort of know, the peripheral people of everyday life. This bad thing was coming and I knew it so I had to try and get these people to come along with me so we could all be saved. We eventually decided to pool our collective knowledge of various parts of the maze to best get free. I woke up before we did it, but I have every reason to believe we made it through.

Later on this morning, I was reading some Vonnegut while I waited for the washer to finish its current cycle (naturally). There was a line (if I had the book with me, I'd put it in... alas, no book) that suddenly reminded me that the scary thing I was running away from was war. There was an elaborate and lengthy portion of the dream that was dedicated to me having to fight in a war. Now, usually in my combatative dreams, I have to overcome the world's enemies all on my lonesome or with a small few (see above portion of dream), but this time it was quite realistic. I was just one of thousands of people fighting thousands of other people with nothing around us but war. It also went on for ages. I would tell any interesting bits of battle if there were any, but it was just this long monotonous period of trying to stay alive while killing as many of them as possible. Toward the end, I ended up crying in a pile in a corner somewhere saying I didn't want to fight the war anymore. I remember thinking -- how could so many of our relatives (grandpas, uncles, fathers) have fought through this? The overall theme was extreme exhaustion. It wasn't just physical, either; I was emotional, mentally, spiritually drained as well. So I started to run.

But I couldn't figure out how to get away and got stuck in a maze trying to help everyone else I met too. Weird. My dreams are typically completely entertaining fiction or obviously transparent. I don't know which this is. I am not particularly "stuck" in any area of my life, nor am I about to engage in war with anyone. I honestly wonder if reading so much Vonnegut had me playing out social and political politics in my dreams. I hope so. That seems fun.

Tan

I was going to dedicate this post to my funny face tan lines, but in an effort to find a picture of someone (who isn't me) who had them, I found this picture. So now I am going to tell about all my funny tan lines. :) Joy for you.

• on my face from my sunglasses. I did put sunscreen on, but it was a long day out.
• tan on my shin from where my soccer socks come up to.
• tan on my thigh from where the shorts (or skirt I was wearing later) came to.
• obviously more tan on back than front from when I was reading out and sunning myself at the same time.
• a fun small v-burn on my neck/chest where I was wearing a v-neck shirt. Smart.
• really old Fiji bikini tan lines.

I look like a striped freak. I love it. You want to know why? Because it means that it's sunny! And warm and blissful and wonderful. :) Also, I want to wish you all a happy year of the dog. I went to a sweet Chinese New Year celebration in the centre of town this weekend and there were dancers, food, performances, little shops, and fireworks! In honor of my family's fireworks experiences, I did also do the classic "Oooh... oooh" bit. Classic.

Mmmm.

Funky art and tuna fish sandwiches? Sold, my friend. Pointed out to me by Lisa. Look at the cool stuff you could buy me!!

Latest Obsession

My new latest obsession is the random movies they play here on TV. Sometimes it's Little Nicky or Pay it Forward. Just a few days ago it was The Wedding Planner and last night it was Sliding Doors. I love that movie!! I forgot just how much I love that movie. It's great when they throw something oldish and a bit random at you. A lot of them are movies that everyone's heard of and I just never got a chance to see them.

Basically, it can be touch and go. I wasn't thrilled to see Evolution. But it's cool when they toss something you never thought to rent or watch. So huzzah, NZ TV, for keeping me interested.

Buried in Paperwork

There are a number of false perceptions about Kiwis. One of them is that they are the nicest people in all the world. Not so... they are just as nice as Midwestern folk. Some are nice, some are not. Another falsehood is that they don't do needless paperwork. Lies. All lies.

They used to not be engulfed in the paper wars. But, alas, many are following in the accountability age where we need four signatures from you, your dog and your favourite auntie to guarantee that you are, in fact, you. I am in the hurried process of trying to renew my visa and permit which enable me (respectively) to abide in New Zealand and to travel freely between New Zealand and other countries with my passport. I am frantic in order to prepare myself for an excursion to the UK in just over two weeks. Yes, I am insane.

But, I was guaranteed that I would have no problems finishing up my renewal process because "we're not like you bloody Americans and your paperwork". Well, that's true. You're not. I had to sic my financial advisor and my international advisor on Immigration and both of them (as calmly as possible) protested, "If it's good enough for Washington DC, why isn't it good enough for you?!" In addition, I have seen more name grubbing than ever before. "Well, sir, do you know who I am? I happen to be Ms. So-and-so. That's right, Ms. So-and-so. (Pause.) I see; I'm so glad that makes things easier for my client." Client??

Luckily, as soon as I recognised the vile cogs of the bureaucratic machine lurching into motion, I found myself calling in favours from the right people and jumping through the correct hoops -- now there's the advantage of my American education. My visa and permit should be cleared by the week's end. Thank you very much, painless non-bureaucratic paperwork process of the morally superior New Zealand. ;) How much we could learn from you.

Bull Poop

In a Past Life...

You Were: A Gorgeous Philosopher. Where You Lived: Israel. How You Died: In Childbirth.

Who Were You In a Past Life?

This thing is poop on a stick. It asked me just two questions: occupation and what blog do you use (for code purposes). Honestly? I didn't even read what it said; I was just irritated and copied it in here to state my irritatedness.

Idiots. I mean, I know a test isn't going to tell me what past life I led (nor do I believe in past lives anyhow), but we all know I wasn't going to the site to solve some horrific mystery in my life. The goal was to entertain, and sir, I was not entertained.

UPDATE: And the stupid link doesn't work. Grr. Here it is, you know, the manual way.

Be Careful What You Wish For

I have complained for ages about the weather here in dear ol Dunedin. Well, it finally got warm. But let me tell you -- it isn't actually hot, it's just really, incredibly humid. And you know what people say, "It's not the humidity, it's the heat." Wait, no. That's right... people hate humidity. And I am a part of humanity. Therefore (am I going too fast for you?), I hate the weather. :) But at least it's been quite sunny. No day with the sun can be so bad.

I think the sun is actually a hot commodity around here. If it's actually warmish and sunny, people flock to open windows and the outdoors. I am right along with them. It's like we're all Vitamin D deprived (which we probably are) and we just soak, soak, soak til we're soaked through with sweat.

So while I could really go for some lack of humidity (though it's damp when it's cold, why would I assume it'd be a dry heat?), I am eternally thankful for this beautiful sunshine. Naturally, now that I have declared this, it will probably start raining. But I have regained my love of rain, so Dunedin and I are at a standoff.

What a drama this might be.

Christmas Parade

I forgot to say that I put up the pictures from the Dunedin Christmas Parade '05. It's interesting that it's summery and that they have things like Barbie in their parade. Enjoy.

Grammar Rules

So I took this quiz. I only got 11 out of 15. I might suck at grammar. I'm not an English teacher yet, I guess. :) I will blame it on the fact that I'm tired. And I've been in a foreign country which messes up your spelling. And the sun was in my eyes. ;)

Book Report

I know I try to refrain from doing book reviews or my whole blog would be about them (hm... a new concept?), but I had to write about this book. Now, upon trying to locate a picture of the cover (a different one than the one I have), I found this -- and evidence that it has recently been made into a movie (2004). Unfortunately, that guy on the cover is the guy from Third Rock from the Sun. He was also in Ten Things I Hate about You. I enjoy both those, but he's like an innocent little geeky kid and I think he is playing a very dark character. But go him for expanding his resume'.

The reason I wanted to write about this book is because it's a whole new brand of messed up. I like books that deal with stuff that is messed up or at least abnormal. This one has tons of child molestation, stereotypically hard lived lives, alien abduction theories -- but it isn't after school special, it isn't stereotypical in the least, and it isn't out there. It's so real. It was the kind of book where you finish a chapter and you feel ill. Not because of any one thing, but the author successfully had you live through something unpleasant right along with the character. He makes you walk down that road, unsuspecting as the character, and experience something horrible as you must.

Now, that being said, I really liked the book and didn't find it depressing. I honestly think he wrote down some reality. So, it's an intense book dealing with some real issues of life, but it's a totally different look at them. I highly recommend them if you have a solid stomach (it's not that gross, but it gets you to some dark places of your mind) and are interested in a new style of writing. I can't even define it. It's just great writing.

So there you have it. If anyone's seen the movie, I'd be interested to hear about it.

Doctors and Lawyers and Professors, Oh My!

As you may have gathered from my previous blog entry, I am back into the research game. It's a pretty crap game, mind you, but I am stretching the dear ole' mind again. That's always good fun. My topic for my thesis is standardised testing, generally speaking. My current book analyses the definition of intelligence and success on which standardised tests base their "correct" and "less correct" answers. Twice now, and I'm only a couple dozen pages into the book, successful careers are described as "lawyers, doctors, and university professors".

Is that odd to anyone else? I mean, I am pleased to someday be a teacher. I bet I'll even teach at the university level (though I'll never fully abandon the high school sector), but I've never thought of those jobs as prestigious. Granted, they are talking about professors, not standard teachers, but still. You hear heaps of four year olds spouting off that they want to be doctors and lawyers. Police officers or firefighters, perhaps. These careers hold a certain amount of honour. But professors? Really?

Perhaps I have just not realised the prestige involved. Perhaps I have missed the glazed over look of general awe and respect people have when they hear I'll teach one day. But I really do think that I haven't imagined the "Man, I could never do that! High school kids suck." "Who wants to be around teenagers all day? At least toddlers are small enough to force into doing what you want." "Speaking from a teacher's point of view, you're going to hate your job in a matter of a decade." Yeah, I'm pretty sure those are real comments. Apparently, it's all a facade. Really, they're just all jealous.

It's good to be envied.

One Last Time!

I know I say this every year. That isn't going to stop me from saying it again. I am so done with school. I know that once I get into it, I'll love my dear old topic and enjoying researching, blah blah blah. But for now? I am just sitting here thinking about how I will spend the next year of my life slaving away at a massive paper. Ugh.

I think people become adults just so they stop having to do this sort of thing. Being a teacher will be so much better because the kids will have to write, not me. They will have to worry about grades, not me. I love grading. Good thing, I suppose. Mostly, I love it because it's so much easier to be a critic than an artist.

Bring on adulthood -- I am tired of writing. :)

So Broken

No, not actually broken -- I'm a sucker for hyperbole. But I played tennis for the first time in a long time yesterday and went back-buckling grocery shopping today. So my knee (which I may or may not have injured during soccer earlier in the week) is hurting, my back is hurting, and to top things off, I burned my hand during the creation of my lunch today.

I am accident-prone.

I almost fear to think what will happen at soccer practice this evening. Maybe I should hold off til the new year's insurance policy is up and running.

Such a Poser

I am a vegetarian... of sorts. I eat seafood and acknowledge this makes me a fraud. Mostly because I apparently treat fish like many people treat meat. It isn't an animal, it's a substance in a box at the supermarket.

I was at the farmers' market and found a great deal for scallops. I bought them, intending to eat them. Busy life got in the way, and I found myself eating them days after I bought them. Such was the anticipation that I ripped open the box... only to find the scallops still attached to the half shell. Ew. After consulting a person and 14 websites (how do I handle this situation??), I decided to grill em up in my oven (which is technically baking, but with the grill option on the oven) and cut them loose from their fishy shells afterwards. It was horrible. They were ungodly fresh, but still had sand on them. I had to cut them loose from their muscles and it was making my stomach turn. Scallops had become far too much like meat.

I finally cut 'em all loose and tossed them in a stir fry, but every bite tasted like animal. I put the whole thing in my fridge for later. Now, does that mean I am done with scallops and seafood? Hardly. I am just waiting til the image of me cutting into fat and muscle to get my meat goes away. I will pretend this stir fry was delivered to my door this way and that I never saw shells at all. Ah denial -- it makes great seafood dishes.

Spider Update

Well, the spider has left the building. It was a rather unpleasant ordeal, though, I'll tell you what. See, I hate hating the spiders, but it's really the sheer size - nay, enormity of this particular spider. It's like saying you like dogs. But when a strange Great Dane starts wandering toward you with a funny look in his eyes, you worry. All I wanted in the world was for this spider to leave my bedroom, preferably through the large door that opens into my backyard. Unfortunately, the spider didn't know what I was trying to encourage him to do. He wanted to flee to the darkness and comfort of my closet. This was so not kosher with me.

I tried to encourage the spider out with a piece of paper. But he scuttled across the paper toward my hand and it made (I kid you not) the sound that Stewie makes on Family Guy when he runs away. That gave me shudders that put me out of commission for a good five minutes. Then I tried to gently nudge him out with the force of the blow dryer. He just curled up. All the while, I was whining, "Don't make me kill you! I really don't want to! Just GO... OUTSIDE!!" Then I remembered something about hairspray killing spiders. So I doused him. Again, he just curled up and smelled like girl. Then I thought, "Wait, does that only work when you make the mini-blowtorch with a match and hairspray?" I actually considered using a makeshift blowtorch. I reconsidered.

I decided to better understand my enemy. I looked him up, all the while reminding myself that nothing in New Zealand is poisonous or dangerous. This spider is a tunnelweb, meaning he makes a tunnel made of web (go figure) and lives under rocks and logs. So, with my newfound knowledge, I constructed a tunnel out of tissues and an old toilet paper roll, surrounded with plastic bag (I don't wanna touch the freak). This contraption worked only after I summoned up a huge amount of courage and a piece of cardboard to shove the poor guy into my tunnel thing. Then, he scuttled around the bottom of the bag (not in my tunnel -- so inappreciative) touching me. I, dignified and mature, cried, "Ew ew ew ew ew! I can feel him!" and tossed the whole works into the far reaches of my garden. Then I slammed and locked the door.

I showed him.

AHH!

This is living in my bedroom!

On a Serious Note (Sort of.)

I am a huge fan of Jennifer Aniston. One of my main problems with celebrity, in general, is that there is no way I could ever befriend any celebrity. I don't mean that in a pity me, why can't I be friends with Aniston kind of way. I just mean, if I met this person that I greatly admire based on media coverage that she no doubt despises (well, I'm sure it's a bittersweet relationship), what would I say? But if I did see her on the street and was able to say hello (highly likely here in New Zealand, I'm sure), I would tell her I admire the way she lives her life. This isn't as random as you might think.

Here in NZ, Oprah has recently become a once a week, prime time show. No, I don't get it either, but there you have it. Last night's Oprah had Jennifer Aniston on it (the first episode of the 20th season, you may recall). So this was when all the divorce talk was at a new height, etc. Oprah and Aniston were talking about (in politely vague terms) "the divorce" and what she had learned. Oprah asked what her one big lesson she learned was. Aniston said that, of course, there were a million lessons, but one event that stood out was that one day, she was doing yoga with a friend (don't we all?) and just looked over and said, "[Paraphrasing] I don't wish that I was anywhere else but right here, right now." She said that for the first time, she wasn'tfretting about the past, worrying about the future or stressing about the present. She just was.

I don't do New Year's resolutions. I think they're a bit silly. You don't need to buy a new calendar to inspire you to change your life. These things are called guilt. Another year has passed and you still didn't quit smoking/lose those 20 pounds/start exercising regularly/decorate the house. Bah. But, this resolution/realisation happens to come at an opportune time of year for such resolutions. But. I have decided (And realised I had already decided) to be here now. When I was little (ha - or like last year and before) I used to have fun just thinking about how I was living in the only 10.08am on Friday the 13th of 2006 I would ever know. What am I doing in this one point of time and history that I'll ever see? No do-overs.

So I'll still make sure my future is accounted for, and I'll still fondly look back on the past, but I only get one now. And if Jennifer Aniston was still listening to my crazy-fan-diatribe, this is when I would tell her -- thanks for helping me remember that. And I'll be at all of your new movies. :)

Ooh, Shiny...

When I moved into my new flat, there was a manky, but perfectly fine refrigerator. By the time I fully moved in, however, the freezer door was broken to the point where it wouldn't close. Being the frugal person that I am, this meant that I didn't buy anything that needed refrigeration and didn't even turn it on (what - am I made of money??). When I informed the landlord of this situation, he kindly said he'd be over to check it out. I assumed I would return to a duct taped freezer or some such nonsense. Now, this isn't because I think he's a horrid landlord, but that's the course of action I would certainly take. Instead, I got the delightful message on my machine: "Well, that should probably have been replaced ages ago, so we're putting a new one in tomorrow morning if that suits you." Oh the shock -- the pleased shock!

And new refrigerator indeed! It is gorgeous and new! Sparkling white with compartments with differing cooling systems for best kept vegetables, dairy, and hypothetical meat individually! Thinking back, I have never had a new fridge at my disposal. I mean, the family one was perfectly fine and wonderful, but not "new" in my conscious memory. My student housing has been less than ideal. My first new fridge! There should be a card for such an occasion. I am going to go out and buy the necessary fridge-stuffing food and things and bask, yes bask, in my newfound wealth and luxury.

It's Raining Garbage

My new flat has some surprising new adventures to conquer. An unexpected new obstacle is the placement of my flat. I live in the basement. Yeah, it's a converted flat; I'm not like living in some old people's basement though. The back half of the place is all exposed to my little garden, sunlight (when it's sunny), and people. I have spent the most time in my garden trying to figure out how to hang clothes out to dry in a veritable rain forest. Tricky, tricky.

As I was looking about myself yesterday, I saw a crumpled up candy wrapper in my yard. Odd. I threw it away and went about my day. Later, I saw an empty coffee cup (disposable, not ceramic) discarded on my wee porch. Odder still. I went outside to pick it up and looked for its original home. The garden is at the back of the house and fenced in... where did the mysterious cup and wrapper come from? The only solution is that my neighbours (as in upstairs neighbours) are throwing their garbage out the freakin' window.

Have you seen the Simpsons where Homer pisses off the sanitation department? I don't want to live in that kind of situation. I have to hope this is just a freak coincidence. Maybe it just got bumped out the open window. I would understand that. But if this becomes an issue, I'll have to bust out Passive Aggressive Patty and make a garbage slingshot and return the goods.

And I'm Back

Huzzah for returning to the blogging world. And, I suppose, returning to the world of New Zealand again. Unfortunately, I think one of the major things I brought back with me to home sweet New Zealand is a big, fatty cold. Well, it's pending anyway. If precedence is any indication, I will lick this thing before it gets too underway. My first big attack was taking Nyquil last night before bed. No, it didn't make me sleepy then. Now however? Yeah, tired as could be, with the added bonus of a medicine-induced stupor to go along with it.

But the oddest thing about coming back to NZ is not the pending cold, it's the general transition. I shifted flats right before I left, so I have been a busy little bee preparing my new place. Plus, the treacherous expedition from Madison to Dunedin (which will be funny someday. Not today, but someday.) disoriented me a bit. But here are some fun little things I learned while away and returning, list style:

• SuperWalmart is a scarily large thing: "But, Mom! I really can't see the end of the store!!"
• Everyone told me it would be so incredibly weird to be back in the States, and it really wasn't. It's kind of like how Christmas loses its magic as you get older.
• I can't drink as much beer as I used to. I can, however, still sleep on the bathroom floor like a champ.
• Americana can be defined for me personally in three words: greasy spoon diner.
• There is never, ever enough time to be spent with family and friends.
• United Airlines can kiss my buttocks.
• Eating your weight in vegetarian corndogs several times over in a two week span can make you feel uber-fantastic.
• I like to pretend that I'm not materialistic, but not having a dryer might be the end of me. I was not meant to hang clothes on a clothesline; it's unnatural.
• Going to the hospital alone on Christmas Eve morning? Not as bad as you might think.
• Having a constant and simultaneous phone line and internet connection makes me the happiest girl in the world.
• Starting your day off right, with an Annika breakfast (2 eggs overeasy with hashbrowns, mixed all together with a ton of hot sauce and rye toast on the side), will change your whole perspective on life.

And I'm spent. There are more stories, or at least in depth stories that I will write beautifully at a later date. :) But moral of the story is that I'm back, I'm moving in slowly but surely, and it actually feels pretty freakin' good.