Slowing Down

One of the main differences, culturally speaking, between my American experience and my New Zealand one is pace. Things are slower here. Things are pretty much more laid back everywhere I've been than in the States. That's okay with me, but I do tend to be an active person. I walk fast, I talk fast, I type fast, I do things fast. Usually, while here, people have just chalked that up to me being American.

Recently, at my filing job, (where my apparent title is Administrative Assistant) my boss(es) keep telling me slow down. I do things too fast. I haven't made errors, I haven't done anything wrong exactly, but it's bound to happen if I keep working fast. It's been really hard to slow down. The way I figure it, if I do more stuff, I can do more stuff in that day -- everybody should be happy. But the idea here is to slow down and make sure that it's all done correctly (again, I'd like to emphasise that I haven't messed up anything). It's just funny to me that fast must equate errors here.

I am trying. I daydream inbetween looking at each file. I check my email 47 times an hour. I check, double check, and re-double check everything I do. I'm still going too fast. So here's hoping that me not having any morning caffeine, and just trying so hard to slow down is enough. :) I rather like my job and would rather not lose it on account of so much efficiency.

And I'm Done.

My parents used to tell me that I was like the dog, Bailey. If you've met Bailey, you'll understand why this isn't a huge insult to me. She's a wire haired fox terrier, full of energy and 100% stubbornness. She refuses to behave, not because she's not smart, but just for the sheer sake of refusal. She gets really scared in thunderstorms, and the only way she'll stop panting and licking her (nonexistent) lips is if I full on lay on her. She doesn't find comfort in the simulated caves that the vet recommended, but she does relax as soon as you are covering all but her snout.

I, too, like to be squished. When I used to have a waterbed (you know -- back when it was fashionable), I would end up lying between the bed and the sideboard. All that warm squishing was unreasonably comforting. I, too, tend to be stubborn for no reason other than being stubborn. I also have too much energy and not enough to do with it. We like the same movies, and she'll watch the odd scary movie with me on TV, though neither of us is particularly happy about it.

That isn't what my parents meant though, not entirely. Bailey loves to run. She likes to escape, though she will only do if you've made it oh-so-easy for her to do so. Then she'll run, as fast as she can, away. She has nowhere to go, but it's thrilling. She does not come when her name is called. She barely comes over in the house when you call her. We always fear that she'll run into the road. (We have good reason to think so. Once, my poor brother had to run after her down our road, down a main road, and then down the wrong way on a freeway off ramp. Traffic stopped and then a van opened its door. Between the van and my brother calling her, she chose the van. Bystanders had to get in the van's way so it wouldn't steal my dog. She's not a bad dog though... she just wanted to see where the van was going, I think.)

My parents made the point that I was like the dog because I wanted to run, but had no idea of the various dangers they may await me beyond my own (figurative) backyard. They may have been right. I have not made any huge mistakes, though plenty of small ones. I have not (figuratively or literally) gotten run over by any cars. But my defense for Bailey and myself is that we just need to run to see what's out there. We'll come home eventually. Now, I recognise that Bailey might want nothing more than to run away forever. She might not appreciate the warm house, prompt service of food, and poop removal that the family has performed for her year after year. She might not fathom that she will get run over if she keeps running into the street. She is, after all, a dog.

But as her human equivalent, I feel the need to speak up for the runners. I have been running for a very long time. Not to anything or away from anything: just running for the sake of seeing what's beyond my backyard. I also remember a time when I was quite prone to minor panic attacks in high school. I was on a field trip with the band in California. I was just stressed. I'm sure there were many important and relevant reasons for my extreme state of stress. I don't remember nearly any of them now. But I just had to run. I needed to clear my mind and just be moving for a while. Momentum. And all of a sudden, I was just done. Nothing was "fixed", but I could handle it. My head was clear, I feel as tired physically as I was mentally and everything regained its balance.

Again, I wasn't running away from or to anything by coming here to New Zealand. I just needed to know, needed to get my balance back, to get a clear head. But I think I'm done. I miss not having a backyard to venture out from. Dare I say it? I miss roots. Luckily, I am going to settle into a place for a long period of time, and that place gets to be back in the States where most of my friends and family are. I'm going to do that soon.

But it's weird to be in the last leg of the race.

Celebrity Moment

Okay, this picture is from the ever wonderful www.popsugar.com talking about how the speculation about Kidman's pregnacy status will flourish. Yes, I get it -- she's holding her stomach. Must be a baby and not a bad case of oysters. That's not my point though. Can you look at what a celebrity looks like with a normal person (her mother)? Look at her teeny tiny legs. Now I realise her mother isn't super thin, but she's not obese. She's normal and makes Kidman look stick legged. And I don't even think of her as one of the tiny celebrities. Imagine Nicole Richie next to these two. Goodness.

Another Day, Another Birthday

This time, it's birthday lurve to the one, the only: Kimmie Finn. :) Hope it's the best yet.

I Keep on Hoping

The weather is less than good. Not today particularly, just in general. But it's been teasing me. It'll be all sunny when I wake up, but then I find out it's still cold. Then I'll be off to work and see my not-a-cloud-in-the-sky weather turn to a thunderstorm. But this morning? I really thought it was a nice day. The sun woke me up in the morning and I felt blinded in the shower. But I just opened a window and a freezing cold draft came wafting in. Is it summer yet?

Time Clash

Over the weekend, I got to go to a real, live house. I know! It's been ages. I have been in a grungy flat for too long now. And seeing a friend -- who has a house -- with decorations and heat and a dishwasher... well, it was just too much. I am full on craving someplace I can care about. A place where mould doesn't crawl up the wall almost as fast as the spiders. Sigh. But I was reminded of how modern Dunedin can be. If you're in a nice area, the houses are gorgeous, wonderful things.

Then this morning, on my way to work, I saw a guy who was hired to mow a neighbor's lawn using a push mower. Not just a mower you have to push, but the ones that used to be common before my birth and you now see in cartoons. I thought perhaps he had to use it to keep the noise levels down, but it's actually pretty loud. And it was ten am, so I don't think he'd bother any neighbors' sleep.

What a nice little contrast.

A Sidenote

I am so ready to be done being a student. Just FYI.

Like a Baby

The final of Grey's was on last night here. Oh. My. God. I knew I was going to lose it. I was crying at the previews/commercials for it! And yes, I was thoroughly mocked for that, but still. Even though, months ago (ish), I got a spoiler alert from the ever lovely Lisa, I still lost it. And you know where I cried the hardest? You'll never guess. Was it when the main guy died? No. Was it when Izzy quit? No. Was it when all the relationship drama was going down with McDreamy? No.

It was when they put the dog to sleep.

No joke.

I don't like when animals get hurt on TV. And yes, it was explained to me: "Annika, you know they didn't really hurt that dog, don't you?" But it's just so sad. I had the unfortunate experience of being in that little room sending my kitty, Snitch, off to eternal slumberland. It's horrible. Horr-i-ble. Awful. I'm actually tearing up a little right now just thinking about it.

Now add that to all the symbolic drama that little puppy carried with him and come on-- I never stood a chance. But there is a silver lining. I never saw the first season of Grey's, but they're playing it again now here. So I can catch up on my favourite addiction. :)

Sorry I Suck

I don't mean to be so slack on posting. I know, I always have so much to say, but I've actually been really busy lately.

I think all my fun stories would be about filing or staplers, and let's be honest. I don't think those are so enthralling as I find them. But what can you do? I'll tell you funny things as they happen. I will try to live a more entertaining life. :)

Dark Ages

So I blew a fuse yesterday. And still there are no lights working in the flat. Apparently, though, it's only the lights, and not other electricity in the flat. I'm used to a room or a section of house being on one fuse, but apparently, they do things differently here.

I don't know where the fuse box is (not in my flat, in any case), and my landlord must have been living it up last night because I still have no idea. He hasn't called.

It changes how you do things though. I went to bed earlier last night because it was dark and I couldn't do anything but watch TV. That wears on you after a while. Reading by candlelight - nice. But strains the eyes.

It is odd to feel like what things used to be. Electricity is relatively new (in the grand scheme of things). I forgot. Now I remember.

UPDATE: Lights are on. It was such a quick fix. I'm sad I didn't go further exploring yesterday. Ah well. It was nice to be not so bright for a day.

Beware the Staple

You might think that a job as a file clerk would be pretty tame. But you'd be wrong.

Case One: Last week, I suffered the dreaded triple papercut. That's right; while shuffling some papers together, three pages simultaneously cut into a joint (it's always a joint) on my finger. The pain was indescribable.

Case Two: Yesterday, I came home with a sore arm. Why, you might ask? From repetitively pulling staples out of stacks and stacks of paper and restapling them. Sore arm!!

Case Three: Whilst picking up a stack of paper, a stray staple stuck itself into my finger. The whole edge that is meant to be bent over at the back was embedded into my index finger.

I rest my case. Somebody owes me money. Or at the very least, a cookie.

To Add to the List

More obsessions:

Ginger. As in, I like anything with ginger. In an attempt to help my sleep (which has gotten remarkably better), I bought some herbal tea (caffeine-free!) to help calm me. While I bought some specifically entitled Sleepy Tea (how could I say no?), I also got some ginger tea. And it's fabulous. It could probably use a little more lemon, but mmm ginger. Way to be, ginger, way to be.

Sneakers. Call 'em what you like: runners, trainers, gym shoes, tennis shoes (go Wisconsin dialect!), but I am obsessed. It's thinly veiled fear, I think, of ice. I now wear them with black pants, with jeans (big faux pas here), with nice pants, etc. Basically, I have drawn the line at skirts. But seriously, with cold and ice like we got here, I think I'm a-okay for being a little fashionally daring.

Hitchcock. I know. I'm surprised too. I hate scary movies. But it's a whole new ballgame. The newer version of Psycho was on last night - Sunday Horrors. I watched it! I watched a movie that was a Sunday Horror. And even more? I loved it. I liked seeing Vince Vaughn acting instead of just playing himself. Not that I don't like Vaughn, but it was fun to see him in a real role. But I did stay up too late watching it. And I did have a dream that a man in a wig was trying to kill me. But it wasn't that scary. I mean, as far as my dreams go, that's really pretty average. So yay, Hitchcock!

Another Random Phone Call

Just to keep you abreast of the tortures of having a phone number that looks like a commercial number:

Got this message on my phone at 7.45am this morning. "Hi, it's Jean. The heat's out again. I'll need to hear from you asap. Cheers." I still don't know how American voices that make no reference to a business confuse people, but they continue to leave me messages. I hope Jean gets fired. :)

Worst Day Ever

I am writing this blog after the fact, but I just wanted to share about my worst day ever. On Friday, I was so tired. I have ceased to be able to sleep. I've never slept well, and for this whole week, I've been tossing and turning to a ridiculous extent. After reading up on, I am no longer allowed caffeine after lunch, not allowed naps, not allowed to read in bed, not allowed to watch movies or TV in bed, etc. Clearly, I was an unhappy girl. But, I decided to conquer taking a nap by skipping it on Friday.

Well, I am the only well person left in my office. There is some speculation about how long I'll last. The throat feels mildly sore and I sneeze a bit, but that could be anything. The flat was a mess, work was hard, it was rainy and cold. Then, when I got home, I decided to air out my bedroom; there is a door that goes outside in my bedroom. In an effort to open it, I broke a window panel on the door. I mean, honestly. The door was so warped by the damp that it refused to open. Using my hip to help it, I managed to not open the door, but open a window. Drat. So I called my landlord knowing that there was no way a glass guy was going to come Friday night, or all weekend. Then in a fit of insistence upon said door's opening, another window was smashed when it was closed again. Sigh.

Cardboard went up, tears were spilled, cold damp seeped through the flat with new intensity, but it was after all Friday. There's always another day, another week.

UPDATE: the windows have been fixed. My landlord is even going to try to fix my damp-damaged doors. Lucky, lucky me.

Now, That's What I Call Winter

While winter might just be wrapping up (knock on wood), I finally feel a real winter day. It is sunny, sunny, sunny. But bitterly cold. At least it was this morning. It's the kind of cold that hits from inside your lungs the minute you breathe in. Gorgeous.

See, I think it's important to mention that I haven't been hating winter. I have been hating rainy cold days for months on end. It's been sunny for the past month, I would say, with only spots of rain. I missed the dear sun and when it's this cold, there isn't a lot of moisture in the air.

I bundled up in long jacket, scarf, and gloves and was happy. I hummed a little tune to myself on the way to work. Then; oh then. I saw ice. Of course. I think it's like my kryptonite. But I managed to bravely book it to work only two minutes late. This is a huge accomplishment for me! Usually I have been paralysed by fear, but now I have conquered.

Winter is good for me. :)

Addictions

I thought it might be time for another list of current obsessions/addictions. So here goes:

1. Grey's Anatomy. Remember, we're behind here and there's only two episodes left. I am loving and hating it. It's so intense!
2. Baked beans. Is eating beans on toast a thing in the States? If so, why did I never do it?
3. Sushi. Still. But, I am budgeting my life, so no more eating out for a very, very long time. I shall wither away.
4. Puppies. Though it may be some months before this is a possibility (or a decade... it depends), I am obsessed with looking up dog breeds and guides. I will be well informed.
5. Ducks. Feeding them, that is. I love it. It's getting nicer out, so it's even more fun to do it.
6. Pumpkin soup. I am perfecting a pumpkin soup with garlic and ginger. It's so good. It's shocking it even came from my hand. Most things I cook are basic or weird, but never something you'd savor.
7. Purses. Since my arm is mostly better, I can have bags that I have to hold instead of just sling over a shoulder. I am getting reacquainted with my pretty bags.
8. Naps. They were out of the question for a while there, but the best way to spend an afternoon is still lounging around read a book and drifting off to sleepyland.

Ooh, that reminds me. I had two (count 'em, two!) nightmares last night. One involved people breaking into my house to kill me. Naturally. The second involved this world wide pandemic of mental disease that causes you to kill those around you. Since everyone had it, a lot of people died. It ended very creepily. Like, I don't even want to talk about it. But let's just say I woke up questioning my sanity. So maybe I ought to cut out the naps altogether. :)

Om.

I have started going to a meditation class. It's actually not as "out there" as it sounds, though it is a little. I do like the incense and the hippies that show up, but it is mostly people like me -- just curious and keen.

It was the third class last night and they started in on the religion part of it. After talks of the "ideal lifestyle" that included only wholesome music; vegetarian diet; abstaining from alcohol, caffeine, nicotine, and excess sugar; working out daily; and no napping, I realised that I perhaps was undergoing a sales pitch. I mean, waking up early, refreshed, every morning without poisoning my body in any way all day sounds fine. Until I get to work and need a cup of something! Usually tea, so I'm accidentally lowering my caffeine intake. Then I eat my lunch of tuna (which is technically meat, I know) while listening to angsty music. I assume that a glass of wine with dinner will just hit the spot, too.

So while I am keen to sit and learn the meaning of stillness and mental clarity, I am not interested in a new religion. Me and God are pretty good friends. I'd like to keep it that way. It doesn't really help that my entirely well-intentioned leader of meditation seems like she would have gotten obsessed with something -- meditation just got there before anyone else did. She also encourages us to "breathe in" things we want accented in our lives. Let's say you are about to have a very important meeting, you may well breathe in confidence and capability. She continues to encourage us to breathe in happiness, joy, and power. I don't feel unhappy and powerless. This is good, I feel. But I would like to breathe in clarity and connectedness, maybe inspiration and creativity. But if your spiritual leader (as I'm sure she'd like me to think of her) is craving power and happiness, you gotta wonder. After 20 years of meditating, I would hope to have found a hint of happiness.

Then again, she's a lovely person who looks about my age, while I guarantee she's closer to her mid-30's. She can wake up with a smile on her face at 6am - 7 days a week. She does marathons, can play several instruments, can sing, and is ridiculously healthy. There is something to be said for religion, I suppose.

Another Birthday!!

And yet another birthday (which will be a day early in the States)! Happy birthday, Lisa!! Lisa is also one of the most fantastic people on the planet. I lucked out, man. It just so happens my friends are the coolest people ever.