Credit crunch

Its Christmas time again and there is the usual stressful hysteria amongst shoppers. How can we enjoy shopping leisurely amongst the carol singers, festive decor and the repetitive Christmas songs loop, when our wallets are tight and there is a concrete deadline.

To add to this hysteria, retailers are tempting one and all with their large sales, turning us all into bargain hunters prematurely.

Retailers are the beggars on the street this festive season- desperate for coins and attention. Usually they are the smug old misers, gloating with goods at ridiculously high prices until they can pity us post-Christmas and ply us with their old and damaged stock.

For anyone working in retail with bosses determined to turn a profit in such a competitive market and reduce the shoplifting rate, the number one rule has become customer service.

There are certain stores I chose solely for their lack of customer service. You can browse freely without the constant 'Can I help you Madam?" or thanking me for coming in.
These shops are becoming increasingly thin on the ground.

My friend and I were in Warehouse Stationery and we saw an ex-classmate who ignores us every time we go in there. She actually grunted "hi" to us when we entered the store, which was amazing but also showed the strength of the customer service concept.

I do love the programmed nature of customer service though, due to its sheer predictability.
"Have a nice day" when it is obviously night. "Would you like a bag"- the planet is dying and I'm already dragging 40 bags, but sure what the heck.
Even "Merry Christmas" is completely hollow at this time of year.
Sugar sweet conversation is sometimes hard to take, that means I actually have to think of a response when I am mentally and physically exhausted from shopping.

It feels like a waste of good oxygen, which makes the self-service checkouts appealing. Unfortunately they loudly rap you over the knuckles if you make a mistake. Just because I don't want to put the item in the provided bag, doesn't mean that I don't understand the instruction.

Oh well its only a few more days. Then we can become real bargain hunters, attacking retail junk sales like rapid dogs on boxing day with the money we saved in the pre-Christmas sales.

New Look blog

Scrawling through the multiple blog background sights, I still can't figure out what would make this blog exciting. Each site seems to have plenty of zip files to unzip and transform your blog site into the craziest place on earth.

The process itself feels like a time-waster and frustrating when the programme doesn't compute with your radical new backdrop. Then I question, whether a holly-homemaker type blog with pictures of cats and sunflowers is what I want to say to the world?

I'm rather changeable so like to experiment, but each time the new blog background sets itself up on my page, I ultimately regret it or make a mental note to get rid of it. I seem to have fallen into the black hole of blog designs, each designer keen to have their Wordpress rip-off version downloaded onto Blogger.

The limited Blogger designs do infuriate but I'm sure a professional blog is based on the content and not the wrapping. I'll just change the layout once and a while, after I figure out how to unzip it.

Weebly

Latest obsession: Making my own website.

I'm gradually plastering an identity around the net on a variety of sites, even if they are all under slightly different guises. I may as well unite them in one common place.

So I began trolling for a new free web-based platform. There are plenty about but most are rather pushy about buying something.
I guess it takes the professionalism out when there is some dodgy name attached at the end of your address, all for sake of staying free but I'm rather fond of my own stinginess.

We all yearn for a shred of professionalism and sometimes that falls a little flat. Guess you try and take things in your stride and hope readers/employers can see behind the fake cardboard backdrop and see the effort.

Think I've been listening to the 'girls can do anything speech' and my grandmother's hype a little long but we all need some confidence in life or that is at least what I think.

Anyway to the matter at hand, finding a site, figuring out the content and launch it upon the masses.
Weebly looks easy, especially the design and layout. Now all is left is to decide on a name and run with it.
No link to post here as I'm stuck on my slightly environmental outlook.
Will my little bit of Internet junk add to the information highway? Think I'll just bite the bullet and send it out there.

Mix Tape

I was browsing the latest blogs of note the other day and came across a virtual mixtape. It was something a bit different so I went to the mixwit site.

Its interesting but lets be honest, its a time-killer listening to other 'tapes' already saved at the site. Some users seem to create a tape everyday just to capture the mood.

I've become a little addicted, so thought I'd post my first offering above. Its definitely quicker than creating a physical mix tape!

After writing the above, mixwit closed down which I'm sure disheartened some loyal followers. But the virtual tape will appear again in another form, every day there is something new to discover.

Zine Scene

Independent publications such as zines never went out of popularity it seems. I've been thinking about them for a while, looked up blogs about them and generally wondered how does one get into the zine scene.

I love the homemade nature of a photocopied booklet with ramblings, writings and general outside art.

They retain their DIY aesthetic by multiple photocopying and hand-drawn illustration. But really they are a platform for whatever you can think of -articles, art, collage, interviews- after all your the editor, reporter and publisher!

I went in search of zines in Hamilton to get ideas before I took the plunge. I only found one at Auter House. I've seen a couple in Wellington and know there is Cherry Bomb comics in Auckland, that sell zines. Must have a look next time I'm up.

So I decided to give it a try, make my own personal zine as its only a couple of A4s. But I wasn't sure what topic to write about, which is also true of this blog!

I joined the zinesters website http://www.wemakezines.ning.com/ just to give me an insight. There is lots of help out there from old-hat zinesters to noobs (newbies).

Its called 'Transmission', but I have hardly included any articles in it, even though I'm a journo. Think I wanted to see if solely imagery and a brief cartoon would carry the zine.

My family like it but I pay them well.
The next step is sending it on to a 'zine distro' and spreading my message to the world. But since there are hardly any words, my message isn't exactly loud and clear.

I was thinking of doing another 8 page zine about the hot spots of Hamilton after all the positive feedback.

TV withdrawal

As an avid TV addict, the medium itself is leaving me increasingly cold.
How much more mindless TV can we take before we run for hills screaming for mercy?

Its like a daily diet of pasta and cheese, it soon becomes evident that time is passing but you are not really living.
If you read the letters to the TV Guide, we should be outside throwing ourselves around the back garden or using the remote and turning the box off.

Maybe it dulls your brain. I find the trivial actions of everyday people eating lunch, talking, shopping somehow fascinating now when paired with ridiculous commentary. Or is the ultimate death knock on your social life-"I can't go out tonight, CSI is on!"

As we are nearly at the end of election season, the TV news is now as entertaining as 'Home and Away' as politicians plead for votes with empty purses.

Debates heralded as the 'deciding event' of the election are mind-numbingly boring. A tired audience who have heard all the arguments before, act as judge and jury.

Sleeping on the couch instead of watching sounds like a great alternative. If only I could press the off button as fast as the on switch.

Picture of the Day

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A picture speaks a thousand words, so instead of writing we can photo blog about our day. The possibilities are endless, it could be the couch or your breakfast.

No wonder photo bloggers begin looking for the unusual or even set the scene up themselves without admitting it. Everyday life doesn't exactly draw the crowds regularly unless you can find some interesting angles of your pet goldfish or office desk.

I was contemplating a photo library of stenciled graffiti, every store front, back alley or bin seems to hide another activist's masterpiece.
If we can't laugh at the state of world affairs, western super-powers or weird robots through these graffiti campaigns or vandalism, urban life is rather dull and austere.

The Brooklyn community of blogs features neighbourhood life in all its glory. A featured photo might be a woman in a large hat or children playing on the street with a small story behind it. They are all strangers but are bound by living in such close proximity to each other. Any blog Brooklyn-related is listed in links. Its like a Brooklyn tourism guide!

Photo-bloggers daily inspiration is posted for the world to see, all you have to do is look.

free, take one

Everyday the letterbox is filled with circulars and leaflets. They flood shelves in shops, the streets and the gutter.

Is it human instinct to take flyers pressed into your hand by a distributor instead of refusing. Fifty people can go by, each given literature they briefly scan. It is instantly crumbled and thrown in the bin or drops to the ground.

Is the prospect of a bargain more important than the planet?

Amazingly despite living in the digital age, we are still reliant on paper to spread messages. Maybe its because a physical item and not a jumping ad on a computer screen that we can scrawl away from or shut down with a click of a box.

Even when trays in stores are stacked with the latest catalogue, people would rather read the specials and then put it back or rest it on a shelf.
We are in a constant battle with paper, newspapers and general junk ourselves.

Spare a thought for the hopeless hoarders, every aspect of modern life mass produced including paper takes over every living space they ever had.

One of the festival films I saw was about people crazy about movies. It followed three, who spent their days rushing from one cinema to another in New York.

Their apartments were crammed full of albums, promotional movie material and memorabilia. One woman had to move out because she had filled her entire apartment despite warnings from her landlord.

Guess that is why paper is successful as an advertising medium, it is hard to throw things away. Clutter-free books and TV programmes are all the rage, but will they save us from our own rubbish dump in the car, home or at work?

disposable camera

Remember when 'Staple Magazine' hit the streets in the early 2000s?

As with all new magazines, it had a fresh look and its bill stickers were all over the city when first released, only to fade into the background within a year.

Each month the back page featured the developed film of a disposable camera that had been given to some up-and-comer or famous NZ face.
Over 24 shots, the person took photos of friends or places, even swimming underwater with the camera.

I've never really been a fan of disposable cameras but they serve their purpose, when a digital camera isn't around. There is something final about film, without the handy erase button.

After leaving my camera at home, I bought a disposable before I left Napier for Wellington.
Lack of zoom, its obvious boxy shape and manual winder reinforced its status as a mode of convenience.
The environmental aspect of their disposable status is rather disturbing, but its a novelty I rarely repeat.

Capturing images along the journey, I went photo-crazy in Wellington. I think it helped that the shops were closed and less people were on the streets.

I was glad to be able to snap a golden sunset or an building without over-examining the photo, it seemed more about the moment rather than the camera for once.

I'm looking forward to finishing off the film and getting them developed. I haven't got a clue what to expect.

Art Deco City

Its all palm trees and sunshine in the bay. They are also rather proud of their art deco architecture, which is stunning but almost like a time warp.

Shopping on a Saturday, I tried on hats at a art deco costume shop on sale.
Its quirky when its just dress-up but I've heard they go all out on Art Deco Weekend.

It was Kelt Capital Spring Carnival weekend- the ultimate racing event and there were people on the street dressed in 40s costume. It felt a bit like a movie but everyone else seemed to be staring at them too.

On my travels, I went into an antiques and vintage clothing store. It was like a cheap gift store with bright lights on glass cabinets.
When I walked in, a number of plastic looking necklaces greeted me. The sign above them said "Genuine art deco necklaces found in the back of a European warehouse. $12 each."

Jewellery glass cases housed broaches, necklaces and crystals at the front of the store.
Down the main aisle, I came across a secondhand bookshop area, gloves, bags, war memorabilia, binoculars and finally a 1940s department store style vintage clothes area.
Hats were perched on old mannequin heads and dresses 'pre-1970' were displayed on racks.

It all started to feel rather morbid instead of quirky. Its great to enthuse about the era but it dawned on me that all the ex-owners are probably dead.
All this was reinforced by the 1940s style song with lyrics 'I'm going to live til I die'.

As other customers poked at the items on display, the whole thing seemed a tacky and distasteful way to honour the past. So I quickly exited, walking home via the steep staircases and lanes weaving above the city.

It was a sunny Saturday and the art deco detail of the city was more apparent as I climbed the hill. How could I argue with the views, palm trees and this small city's style!

Stress

I'm a bit of stresser but how can it all crumble into a massive health snowball on my first big internship week.

I've always leaned towards total burnout work-wise because lets face it, its a little fun.
But I think even for me, I'm a little wiped out from all the stuff on lately.

I arrived in the Bay in one piece, its hot here in the afternoons and everything has fallen into place. But I've been on edge and overtly worried about waking in time for work, getting there and then actually producing the goods.

So in this stressful time (one week) along comes large pimples, a cold, the sorest throat possible, day long headaches, shivers and automatic cars- where is the clutch and why is the shift always stuck in park?

But while my body has a melt-down least some interesting stories have cropped up.
Went door knocking around Flaxmere when they had the 200 plus school brawl and then talked to a McDonalds owner when an employee exposed himself in the children's playground.

News isn't always palatable but you have to get it out there amongst it.

I'm not sure what to make of the medical miracles but I'm sure they will be solved with sleep in the weekend.

Post A Secret

I was in Borders the other day (I love manufactured cosy environments) and found myself in the art section.

Amongst the overpriced books on street art or how to draw cartoons was the book 'Post A Secret'.

It is a community art project that encourages people to send in postcards of their secrets.

I've seen about two of the four editions which have been released and the content just gets crazier.

Its amazing the creativity out there even when you are dealing with the most painful secret possible. Most are weird scribblings or collages to over-emphasise the point.

Imagine the relief of sending your secrets to a box number anonymously. You could tell them anything and it won't be traced back to you but it would be out there. Published in Borders no less!

Maybe its perverted that we are automatically drawn to wanting to knowing what other peoples secrets are even if they are anonymous. Toilet walls, postcards, gossip columns- nothing has become outdated yet as a medium to divulge information to our community or the world.

We all want to know forbidden information, but how far does it go before it makes even us uncomfortable. Maybe because its anonymous there is not even a line marked in the sand.

'Post A Secret' now has its own blog, due to the sheer volume of secrets being sent in.

Stitching a storm

Before I interviewed the organiser of 'Stitch n Bitch Hamilton', I had a quick look on the net and I found a massive online craft community operating.

Even here in Hamilton, there is this craft group who meet at a bar weekly to knit and chat. No craft is excluded and as an ex-cross stitcher, I started contemplating a new piece.

I had previously heard of Subversive Cross Stitch in Bust magazine, so began my search there for some creative patterns.
Most of patterns include swear words in their sayings, as I've never been a graphic text person they don't really appeal. Anyway not sure if the charm would remain by the time I stitched it and then hung it in my laundry.

This brings me to what I would like to stitch- maybe a battle scene or a protest march, just to make it interesting and a little radical.

I've already bought some fabric for it but I'm not sure when the great masterpiece will be begun. I'll have to settle on an idea first, which could take a while.

Town Centre

After writing teeline passages about town centres, I've begun to wonder if they still exist.

If you believe the promotional imagery at your large nearby carbon copy shopping centre, its a place to meet friends and get all your to-do lists done.

When people-watching the other day at yet another Westfield, families kept to themselves, couples walked oblivious, school children gossiped and individuals moved with determination. No-one outside of shops seemed to actually interacting.

Architects impressions of new shopping centres highlight the building and the brand as the main attraction to the complex. People are barely decoration on the footpath or public areas even though they lure the viewer into the image and sell the concept as a place to be. It remains the same when these centres are built.

Reading the local paper, I came across an ad for my local block of shops. It termed the shops as 'a shopping centre where everyone knows your name'.
Like a lot of 1960-70s suburban shops in Hamilton, it is a singular row of shops with parking in the front and a large pot-holed car park at the back.

Owned by a family trust, basic necessities such as butcher, vet, fruiterer and real estate agent have gone. Replaced by cafes, therapists and furniture upholsters.

I won't term it the epicentre for the local community, but then maybe we don't require a modern version of the town square.

We call, text and meet at other locations on the move. The world doesn't stand still for us to interact with others.

Lost Art

Letter writing or sending a postcard seem to have become a lost art as email and new technology takes over the world.

In Browsers Bookshop, there is a box of old and new postcards. Most of the new ones are paintings by Edward Hopper (I'm now officially a fan) but some of the old ones are so faded and dog-earred.

It sounds strange to buy a used postcard, but the fountain tip pen message says more about the person than the scene. I read one from Paris that was an apology to a friend for something that they had not spoken off since.
I remember when I was younger, the point of writing a journal was to leave a piece of yourself behind and available to the future explorer who finds it.

A tale popularised by Anne Frank's diary, journals continue to be stocked with locks, flowers and ribbon bookmarks, but I wonder if their charm remains when social networking sites grow in members.

I guess its up to the individual as to what is important. Its nice to receive a hand-written letter or a postcard as fewer people get round to it, even if it has the cliche "wish you were here".

Three films

I prefer being in the dark rather than being in the light so I guess it isn't a surprise that I savour the cinema experience.

There have been memorable incidents- one involving smuggling a fish burger into a movie and then the attendant telling my friend off for possessing it. She had sushi with her and hasn't really forgiven me.

I jump a bit in thriller and horror movies and that is accentuated when I wear a plastic raincoat. I haven't yet fallen asleep, become locked in the grotty toilets or thrown up in my popcorn but I'm sure my time will come.

During this year's International Film Festival offerings, I ended up seeing three from the Incredibly Strange Film Fest which was running in conjunction.

Zombies were living in apartments in [rec]- the reporter trapped in the building liked to scream a bit but told the cameraman Pablo to keep filming while running.

A naive girl found power from an unlikely organ in 'Teeth'- very funny but I'm not sure if the mainly male audience found it so amusing.

Then 'Timecrimes'- three versions of one man play in a loop around a house and lab. Death, betrayal and confusion ensue. Love time travel movies ever since the Back to the Future trilogy.

Enjoyed them all and will have to seek out some incredibly strange ones in the future for some light relief.

Mixed tapes

In less than a months time, I'll be making a large road trip east for a three week stay. A five hour drive sounds daunting but isn't too bad with a couple of mix tapes.

Once you pass Taupo, it feels like you are alone in the wilderness for several hours. Last time I made the trip, I only recorded half of the tape properly with edited songs. The rest was taped continuously off the radio with ads, DJs and callers in-between songs.

As my car isn't worth the splurge of a CD stereo system, I'm sticking with my cassette player. Instead of hooking in the ipod, think I'll try and make at least 3 tapes for the journey.

I've always been a fan of older technology such as cassettes. I bought tapes instead of CDs until they became completely obsolete.

My brother used to use a hack tape to record songs and then re-recorded them onto a final tape. I just record direct onto a tape and don't re-record unless it is quite a messy recording.

Its funny to listen to the older tapes I made since about age 12. I had an obsession with 80s music and only recorded a few modern songs.
The quality is not the greatest- grainy, half cut off and parts re-recorded over but they provide some entertainment especially on road trips.

For birthdays, I used to record special mix-tapes so I had a defined soundtrack of tunes for the day.

I'm only half-way through the first tape for the trip and it is taking a while as I only want songs I haven't been able to capture.

I better listen to the radio over the next few weekends, so I can achieve my 3 tape goal.

Internal Maze

Whenever I visit a new supermarket, I feel like I'm lost in a theme park maze.

Everything is clambering for your attention and its a sea of colours and activity.

You have to travel through all the fruit and vegetables, dairy, meat before even getting close to smaller items like batteries or bread. All the while trying to escape slow trolley traffic and insistent product demonstrators.

No-one ever looks like they are having the time of their lives travelling with a trolley. At peak time like when you are on the road, there are traffic jams and road rage.
Shoppers try and pass you on the right and left, grab for the items you want, trespass personal space areas and children are always screaming for lollies or attention.

I wouldn't recommend going to supermarket- hungry, sick or tired, that never ends well. I once went to buy cake and ended up throwing up my dinner in the bakery- it wasn't pretty.

While you are killing time in trolley traffic, why not check out all the cheap appliances, latest dvds and cds available in a special aisle.
Along with my bread and instant meals, how could I forget that I needed to pick up a big screen TV for myself?

Then you get to the checkout and you search for the shortest line. Usually the operator-in-training is free, aren't you lucky? Over-charged and then they ask for your loyalty cards, which could be lost at the bottom of your wallet or in the washing machine. The bin could be a better choice.

I'm loving those self-checkouts- no personal contact/drama, only the machine and me. The scanning sounds are extra thrilling but they still demand my loyalty card.

If I heap all the goods back into my trolley, I could save 20 cents and then do battle with real cars in the car park. Or I could bundle them under my arm and drop keys, purse, groceries in the car park or even better the supermarket floor. Least I'm a clean and green consumer without my plastic bag.
I should really bring along my trendy eco-bag to pack my own groceries, but then I could be accused of shop-lifting.

After my weekly shop, I feel like a lab mouse that has just completed a maze marathon. Can't wait to start it all over again next week.

Coloured ink

I really should diligently read the entire newspaper before falling upon the magazine lift-out, but it is hopeless I'm rather addicted.

Viva, Time-out, Sunday, Escape even TV Week catches my eye. I wonder if coloured ink has this effect on everybody.
I can forgive the cheesy explaination statements on the cover (think Time-Out- because your weekend starts here) because the combination of words + pictures= numerous views.

The only problem with these magazines is the lack of variety in format. After a couple of kooky people have shared their 10 favourite things and a series of eco-warriors are paraded, the columns get old and predictable.

I do though enjoy the questions and answers in the Sunday magazine.

Questions like:
what is your favourite supermarket aisle?
Shave or Wax?
Ten material possessions you can't live without?
Biggest fashion mistake of our era?

All produce varied answers from the simple to the ridiculous.

What these 'magazines' feed on is the latest hype- designer clothes, TV shows and up-and-comers on the national or international scene. People love this light relief fluff and the free TV listings.

Auckland restaurants always get put through their paces by 'the duke', 'the woman' or 'Jude' reviewers. Their companions thoughts often find their way into the column even if its their 5 year old son.
What I've learnt in my review reading is: views/location and good food never mix, bathrooms are often tight and unpleasant and bad wait staff can kill the ambient mood.

The things you learn when you read gossip, food and TV reviews!
Long live the throw-away lift-out, keeps me sane when I should be doing work.

Risks

In our course there is becoming an overwhelming elephant in the room of where we will go from here.
We are driving on the avenue and side streets start to appear, is it really where we want to go or do?
Will we be stuck forever in this one way street if we take this path?

There is always fear with any choices as you constantly read about regrets and missed opportunities. In the latest TV Guide, stars comment on their regrets, namely turning down a part on a successful film or series.
I was struck by Henry Winkler's tale. He said he regretted not taking the part of Danny in Grease. He didn't want to be typecast after Happy Days but was unaware that he already was.
John Travolta went on to make big movies and he just went home.

I wonder what is worse thing you could become if you strayed from the professional journalism path. Your reputation could be a hack, a dark sided PR vampire or even an ex-journalist in 10 years time but is this industry so callous that you are forever tainted?

There are endless ways to become 'stuck' and still peddling the same trash in the future, but right now we have our fresh near-graduate status on our side. We have to strike while the iron is hot (love cliches) and try and make it sooner rather than later.

I've already thought and experienced all this doubt in a previous tech life. What is the point in worrying about mistakes you might make in the future.
You make decisions as the person you are today not what you could be 10 years from now.

Corporate Identity

Another day and another product is released. The latest is the iPhone, dripping with contract strings and add-on costs.

In line at the Queen Street Vodafone store is Jonny Gladwell, typical student camped out for 60 hours to be the first in the world to buy one.
Media coverage was overkill due to the lack of political blunders and overseas disasters.

We could all celebrate or relate to this guy then it turns out he's been paid to do it, wearing sponsored clothing and is the latest in sheep in wolves clothing marketing plant.

What a surprise that blatant logo placement is not reaching consumers so now honesty and creditability are for sale in this urban wasteland.
You can sell your soul on trademe, pretend to have a disability to sell airbags, make a "homemade" video on your cellphone of your workmates and be the latest video diarist on utube.

It does take the gloss off when everything is a hoax and set up by corporate identities. Though outraged, we can't kid ourselves that we would never sell what was truly important to us.

Bribery is the daily bread of corporates and we are only a twig in a storm.
Is it possible to fight the corporate machine and maintain individuality in modern culture.
Or are we so far gone that when a branded t-shirt is offered, we actually believe we are buying popularity and acceptance.

We are but branded calves in the herd.

Virtual Cities

Its freezing and winter is only just beginning.

So instead of slipping on the grit on the footpath, I have become a blog hunter on the web. Virtually travelling through blog communities began at the recommended blog section.

Its like the recommended section at the music store or wine store. Someone recommended it so why not take it seriously. There are always ways out (i.e links) that are side streets on your journey.

With my training wheels on and some spare holiday time, suddenly I found myself in the Brooklyn blogging epicentre.

Millions of people live there so why not name your blog after your street. You could click around forever looking at albums, observations and stroller mums but then you hit a brick wall (i.e no links). I'm a bit of hypocrite without my own links, so maybe I'll take this as a friendly suggestion.

I've found completely random unconnected blogs linked but it adds to the blog because you are bound to get bored and want to move down for a mocha at another sidewalk blog.

Long live the recommended sections and blogs of note, how else would we know these people exist.

Alleyways

Finding an alley is like crawling into a tight space, there is the element of the unknown.
Buildings make the space dark even in the brightest sunlight. It is a shortcut to another street, space or shop but there is no-one else about, is it safe?

In the bigger cities, they are necessary accessways for loading docks, creative businesses and flats. In small towns they hide rubbish bins and plumbing.

I'm fascinated by their unpolished nature, dirty and gritty they are ultimate in urban decay.

The above photos are a sample of what remains me of alleyways. The first is behind Napier's Emerson Street, rotten and dripping.
The next is the side accessway of an old office building. It had chicken wire windows on the left for light.
On the right is inside a 'flat'. I was doing documentation of an old building and persuaded the tenant to let me take some photos. This is on my descent from the roof down to the flat. It was about to be demolished and was particularly wrecked.

I question safety in my exploration but you never know what you'll find or see. If I'm really worried there is always the zoom lens.

TV Stereotypes

New Season TV is coming to a small screen near you.

Every new programme buys into standard stereotypes. There are so many, the only variety is the combinations of these boring characters in reality TV, drama and comedy.

Poor little rich girls/bored housewives/frustrated young office workers seems to be the latest offering from America.

Kiwi shows are pure agony. Prolonged excuses to rehash kiwi cultural stereotypes and ex-shortland street stars put me off my cocoa before they have even begun.

I confess as a long time TV junkie I have become rather cynical. I'd just like something fresh and slightly intellectual to grace our screens. Any non-children cartoons that appear late at night, I keep an eye on.

Pictured is "The Oblongs" circa 2002. Even though it seems ages ago, a cartoon about an anti-stereotypical family living in a toxic wasteland is not your typical fare so of course it appealed.

It had a short run in the US which seems to be the usual consequence.

While I try and enjoy shows without looking for moral messages, I like the "outsider gets on with life regardless" message of this show.

There are so many 'be a clone/sheep' characters everywhere else on TV, your whole TV schedule can become overloaded with the trials of perfection for real or imaginary people.

Maybe thats why shows about models/celebrities are so popular and addictive.

It's a charmed life, guess someone has to live it and film it.

hair talk

Having shorter hair means regular hairdresser visits.
For several years I enjoyed changing my hairdresser every couple of appointments.

Each salon has its own style depending on how expensive the cuts are. The staff are like walking advertisements with their hair, makeup and clothes. The waiting area has comfy couches and a mountain of gossip magazines and the atmosphere is self-absorbed.
Then your hairdresser comes along and there is an ease of conversation about TV and random items.

I've settled with my latest hairdresser for about 2 years and I'm dreading our next appointment as usual.
She's not the greatest conversationalist and is extremely negative about everything.
When you get blunt answers, a conversation becomes lots of questions. Am I still a child on a kitchen stool wanting some chocolate? Not mature enough to understand the world or engage in discussion.

Months in a row it was a 40min lecture on using product and my lack of hair styling interest.
It has become slightly better as I have learnt some lessons.
Stay clear of certain topics:
-movies
-marriage (she's engaged but don't mention the wedding)
-hair competitions
-public holidays

After a while, I'm completely spent and have no questions left so I try and use the time constructively for internal monologues.
Its like a monthly resolution, how will I do things better next month (work and health wise) rather than talk to someone who doesn't care.

Some months I've gotten so mad that I'm ready to chuck it in and decline a new appointment. She must realise I'm absolutely fuming because that haircut is particularly good.

What is more important a good hairdresser or a conversationalist. I never thought I'd be so dependant on conversation to keep life pleasant.
Is 40 mins monthly of stonewalled talk really worth the haircut?

A to B

"Public transport, have you smelt these people?...We believe in human energy but profit from human laziness, what are you going to do..walk?" - just heard this on the radio parodying petrol companies values.

So Let's review the 'sensible' options:
Walking- weather and considerable distances sadly put me off.

Cycling- It's dangerous as cars and buses don't respect personal space or the cycle lanes.

Buses and Trains-both save time and headaches from traffic but is boring if you are ill-prepared.
They used to have advertising on the ceiling and on the wall but that has all but vanished.
I didn't really care about tyre repairs or bus fares but it is something to kill time. If that fails or there is nothing about, I look at the scenery then the passengers.

Sights- unless you are a tourist, you'll know the route back to front so that becomes tiresome.

Passengers: You are relatively safe in the bus as they are not usually facing you.
You can:
-analyse the drivers ornaments or decorations.
-look at people's clothes, hair and/or what they are reading.
-if a pushchair plus mum get on, then there is some manoeuvring and bus lowering.

Even if I bring something to occupy myself, boredom is not my sole enemy.

I try and sit on the aisle seat so I can have a whole seat to myself. People go for the empty aisle seat first.
In the latest Sunday magazine, bad bus etiquette was on the down list. Commenting on how your bag doesn't need a window seat. I disagree completely.

Even though I sympathise with later passengers, they don't look beyond the obvious and search for a seat, that means lots of standing.

On the train, I used to catch the limited stops service so often fell asleep and woke just before my stop.
If that is not possible, the scenery is going past fast so stalker staring begins.

It requires some skill of averting your eyes when caught staring. Unfortunately your gaze naturally goes back to the same person at the other end of the carriage regularly so you can get stung over and over.
Suddenly your shoes are super interesting.
Sharing a seat is also inevitable as train users are particularly vigilant.
Both buses and train users though seem to have a common sharing habit of seeking out the same gender or age group, if necessary.

Public transport may involve chatting with strangers, but as always I hope for simple weather comments and not long involved conversation. I'm trying to relax!

I'll try and learn my lesson and bring a good book or schedule a brainstorm session for my next trip but I can't promise anything.

Rip the city down

Rejuvenation is how a city evolves and expands over time. Areas become dilapidated and are targeted for re-development.

In the property game, investors and developers are always on the look out for the next up and coming suburb or precinct.

Gentrification 'renovates' an area so it appeals to a specific target market. This could include restoration, additions, relocation or new building developments.

New cafes, stores and galleries make a questionable area palatable to the masses. Previously I considered this a logical and inevitable process to keep urban areas progressive.

Reading "Hollow City: The siege of San Francisco and the crisis of American Urbanism" by Rebecca Solnit and Susan Schwartzenberg divided me on the issue.

It examined the gentrification of San Francisco during the 90s dot com craze. Residents were forced out of homes, residential hotels, workplaces and eventually the city by raising rents, new developments, demolition and developers tactics.

The dot com craze was a fast bubble that appeared and cause chaos in San Fran. New start up companies, their employees, clients and luxury brands arrived and demanded immediate residential and commercial space. Minorities and poorer communities in historic areas were the worse affected.

A photo essay of Starbucks around the city with a caption of the established businesses they replaced was particularly sobering.

We want brands but they come with bulldozers and white walls.

Locally, all re-development seems small and measured until a Westfield drops into your area.

Renovation of Wellington's upper Cuba St was a drawn out battle between locals and residents.

A motorway entrance and some restored and relocated historic buildings was the inevitable conclusion. When I last visited it felt like a cardboard film set without character.

Its a sad way for the past to be erased but the future requires progress to be made.

dream slideshows

I was reminded of the film "Eraserhead" the other day, when I read a David Lynch book.

Finally it explained the plot:
Man left with his ex-girlfriend's deformed baby, becomes paranoid. He loses his mind and begins a relationship with a woman in his radiator.

When I saw it, I was rather perplexed as to the point. There was an ugliness to the characters and creatures that inhabited it. It rapidly became grotesque and contrasted with the starkness of the man's small apartment.

Once I lost sight of the plot, it became a slide show of images that either intrigued or disgusted.

I often feel trapped in a dream like state when watching his films, easily manipulated by my own confusion.
Just once though I'll forget about agendas, the god complex and plot/meaning.

Random DVDs make the world go round, so does weird imagery.

Sydneysider

Upon arrival in a new city, I'm always keen to check out the basics: cinema, supermarket, public transport, different suburbs and TV channels.

When I arrived in Sydney, I knew I wasn't in Kansas anymore. The sheer scale of buildings and expanse of the horizon was exciting yet so unfamiliar.

I called the backpackers at the airport and a shuttle driver picked me up with some other randoms. Crammed into a van, it was a long drive to Kings Cross. The driver took the corners at a frantic pace as we looped in and out of small side streets and suburbs dropping off passengers. Bars on building windows gave me Back to the Future 2 flashbacks.

At the backpackers, which was modest yet colourful, I hauled my suitcase up a couple of flights of narrow stairs.
My friends were on a later flight, so I had the one bunk and a bed room with a fridge to myself for the day. It was bleak and looked out to an internal light well along with the other windows.

Walking into the city, there were the usual drunk men on the street at 2 in the afternoon.

We compromised our food intake for spending money. Somehow surviving off a piece of jam toast each for breakfast and minor things for lunch and tea.

Subway stations were a new experience. People kept to the left on the escalator so others could run down or up quickly. Random cheap clothing shops operated next to the ticket counter. On subway platforms, there were vending machines and ads projecting on the walls.

TV monitors hung above listing train stops and was announced by a monotone sound recording on a loop. This was in the smaller stations of Bondi, Kings Cross and Redfern. Martin Place station was massive and multi-levelled in the city centre.

We explored Chinatown, then got lost in the Spanish quarter on our travels.
I didn't realise I relied on brands when I couldn't figure out what to buy at the mini-supermarket. Nestle seemed to have the market covered with all things dairy.

One night, we went to see 'American Splendor' and stopped at the local Indian restaurant on our way for a treat. Every night since arriving, a man had stood at the doorway with his menu, proclaiming the wonderful dishes inside.

We were seated and perused the menu with the owners' family stationed at the doorway.
Being cheap students, we decided on the $10 special.
Away went all the finery: plates, glasses and napkins. We were presented with a divided plastic dish of food and paper serviettes. It was a bit of a shock to the system, as the resident family looked on.

Being in another time zone, having an accent and not knowing the correct terminology to use in shops or bars is an adjustment. But near the end, I thought "I could live here".
Sydney had its own vibe and colour while not being too far removed from home.

Melbourne is next on the list.

Rewards for sacrifice

The other day I was looking at a dreary office building and its windows. I imagined a 9-5 worker behind it, watching the clock aka living for the weekend.

There is always the reminder of what is outside the office- family, friends, holidays in photos pinned to the wall.
At work, our time and soul are the sacrificial lambs of life. They have to be traded to get money. With all this sacrifice, we need lots of rewards to keep us happy.

Why not indulge ourselves, just to ease the drudgery of modern living and Monday mornings?

So out came the rewards loyalty card. We all want that 'free' coffee or 20% off our next purchase but we have to pay with our money, persistence and consistency.
You'll forget about them. Then when you eventually find them at the bottom of your wallet, you'll discover they all have used by dates in their fine print.

Later, I was at the trendy site of revelation, the petrol pump. There was a sign about being a FlyBuys Millionaire.
Even if you buy into reward schemes, you have to be the most persistent person on the planet, never forgetting your membership card, coffee cards or vouchers.

But when will you reach enough points to be rewarded 'well'?

With my points I could get a vegetable dehydrator from Noel Leeming but not the promised trip to London. That's about $10,000 of extra buying to get close. These schemes are all pipe dreams, promising big 'rewards' just by spending money.

If I need a reward, I'll try a walk around the lake.
Some worthless points aren't going to cut it.

Consumer Pawn

I find the best time to peruse the stores is when I'm really tired.
I can wander without motivation and not get frustrated. Unfortunately it isn't without its consequences, as an internal critical dialogue begins. It revolves around the central question of "why am I doing this when I could be sleeping?" but strays to goods, signs and shoppers analysis.

"Can I help you?" is the death kill conversation opener and drips of desperation. I was hoping to exchange dull pleasantries but now I have to justify my existence just to begin a conversation. With my sleep walking and happy temperament interrupted, the inevitable "just looking" comes out and my retreat to the exit.

Friendlier conversations may be in the tone of friends stopping by for coffee, all warm and fuzzy. Reacting favourably to this atmosphere, unwittingly makes me the pawn in the brutal retail game and then I have to question my motivations for shopping.
Does my self-esteem, validity or existence really hinge on a shop assistant, who just wants to sell me something.

Being ignored is expected, maybe if I was awake, I'd take offence. No point coming back when I'm now a member of the rejection club and a number.

An internal monologue can lead to irrational choices and perceptions, but it livens up the most trivial situation. Just turn it off when you see a movie. You start to question why an actor is wearing an ugly shirt or when the actress will pick up her handbag.

10 Ways

A new month is here and it could be the time to make yourself more fabulous by having a personality procedure.

The advice industry is massive, even though resolutions are usually reserved for New Years Eve or the milestone birthday.

Lifestyle magazines and websites indulge readers with quizzes, personality tests and horoscopes. Its pure trash but appeals to human curiosity and over-analysis.

There are the usual suspects on the list of '10 ways to change your life', regardless of the source.


1) Stop smoking/drinking

2) Travel

3) Learn a foreign language

4) Exercise/diet/makeover

5) De-clutter

6) Budget

7) New job

8) Volunteer

9) Seize the day

10) Socialise/ Communicate more


They could change your life, depending how radically you implement them.
Effects of routine seem to drive some people to the extreme to change their life.
Maybe advice isn't so harmless when it results in a life crisis.

Quarter-life, mid-life or late quarter, a crisis though could change your life for the better.

How Leaf We Are

There is a poem I quite like. Though it is dark, I find it refreshing.

How leaf we are,
At first, all furled in separateness,
Peeping out with little vanities and hopes, also vanity;
Perhaps the last vanity, holding us to that green world,
Our life shall be; believing ourselves,
So individual, we all reach, being identical,
Shall the prodigal gardener weep?

How leaf we are,
At last, all seared in brittleness,
curled up with tiny tears and hurts, also fears;
Perhaps the last fear tethering us to that dry twig
our life's become,
then knowing that we are enumerable we fall,
being expendable, all,
The gardener is blind,
He will not sweep.

How leaf we are,
Like waves we do become;
First urged, then merged.

That gardener is a fisherman,
That fisherman is asleep.

-Anon

Proof

Empty shops and developments are the same as a closing down sale. Not only has a dream ended publicly but an envisioned activity or purpose failed to materialise.

Even when the next big place opens, its inevitable that the world, people and traffic will move on eventually. Surrounding shops disappear or change till there is nothing there and its an empty arcade in a side street.

Documentation of a site acknowledges its existence, but like a person its not dependant on a photo to exist.

French conceptual artist Sophie Calle documents her life as if to prove she exists in the world. Her personality can be negotiated and changed at will and her possessions are of no consequence.

She experiments on herself as though she is an empty shell and an open book. Her projects though personal are firmly in the public gaze.

She once followed a man for two weeks in a blond wig, publishing every detail of his actions in a left-wing newspaper.

Briefly worked as a hotel maid, solely to search and photograph guests belongings.

Persuaded her mother to hire a private investigator to follow her, so she could see his photos and report of his impressions of her as a subject.

The world is full of people who want to make their mark on the world. It doesn't seem to matter whether it is for a structure, photograph, store or piece of writing.

Do we really need the world spotlight to justify our existence, when we are all stars of our own soap opera, however small.

Windows

"Living in the city gets under your skin. Where a leisurely stroll leads to hours lost in a local bookshop. A trip to the dairy turns into a discovery of a new art gallery. Where the local barista knows your name and their cafe becomes your boardroom. Where billposters are like pages of a diary."

I found this in a promotional booklet for the Hudson Brown apartments that have since been built on Auckland's waterfront.

It brings up some nice lifestyle friendly images about city communities. Unfortunately the city is rather impersonal and anonymous at the best of times.

You can go a whole day without a real conversation, especially on the streets where you can be invisible until someone wants a donation, money or to give you a flyer.

On dark, cold nights especially shop windows are attractive visual escapes. They sell a lifestyle or a scene well with varied materials.

I always find clothes stores more engaging than enlarged medicine boxes and fake grass.
Their mannequins take on a life of their own even when they are headless or bald and faceless.

Occupying a scene of twine tumbleweeds, streamers or disco balls they are positioned to out pose others or ignore each other. Splashy graphics just label the scene and refer to the instore music.

Its great fluffy filler for your journey and averts your eyes from sometimes gritty reality.

Stasi

Last year, in Browsers Bookshop I saw "Stasiland" by Anna Funder.

It depicts the struggles of East Germans at the hands of the Stasi (secret police) prior to the fall of the Berlin Wall.

Her post-wall investigations were sobering but balanced, as she explored Stasi headquarters and spoke to both ex-stasi officers and victims of the regime.

A few months later I saw the film "The Lives of Others". It focused on a writer and his opera singer wife perceived to be unsympathetic to the regime.

The book highlighted the number of spies in the country. Each spy needed to report on only three people to cover the entire population.

It is hard to imagine fear controlling a country. Yet poverty and possible torture drove citizens to prove their loyalty to the government by becoming informers.

I would recommend both the book and the film.

Lone Lighthouse

Essential ingredients for exploration are: feet and determination.
Optional extras include a sense of direction and knowing which bus to catch.

While living in the capital, I set myself a series of missions.
One Saturday, I ventured to Pencarrow Head at the mouth of Wellington Harbour.
Its lone lighthouse was open for three hours this particular day as part of World Architecture Day.
Wearing a nylon raincoat and a backpack, I caught the Eastbourne bus to its last stop. I'd packed some books for the hour long journey but having motion nausea and the rain lashing the bus I was in no mood to read.

Assumptions are dangerous and usually lead to a whole lot of work rather than the easy ride you're expecting.
The last bus stop was at the beginning of a long road ending in a car park.
Beyond that was a wide rocky track/road.

I began hopeful, there were lots of people about riding, walking and playing with kites.
But as the track weaved in and around the hills, there were fewer people and more silent time.
I made bets with myself that the lighthouse would be just around the corner, but when I got there I saw large bays to walk around till the next corner.
I lost count at 10 bays of this nature as it rained, blew gusts and I began to hate the books.
Eventually, the figure of a lighthouse appeared after 3/4 of an hour.

I was so excited I was nearly there. but its presence mocked me as I had to walk another 6 bays with it in view before I reached it.
Parked on the track below it was a Historic Places white sports car.

There was a bit of a hill to climb, which was longer and steeper than I thought, but that wasn't going to stop me as I was so close.
This track lead to hills of sheep who stared at me like I was an alien.
I felt more like a nylon lobster.

After all this effort, the lighthouse was rather unimpressive. It was a two-storied, quite crude in structure with a spiral staircase to the top.

I was more interested in the historical literature provided than the view. The sea seemed choppy and the hills wide.

After about five minutes I left, exchanging hello and goodbyes with the Historic Places people there.

I knew the next bus left in an hour from the stop so I went and caught it.

Later at a book launch, I saw one of the Historic Places representatives.
She said they had expected to see me on their way back and would have given me a lift, but I was nowhere to be seen.

Later that year, I dragged my Mum to see the lighthouse. We left late in the afternoon walking till we saw the lighthouse figure.
It was dark twilight on our return and as night closed in so did some wild billy goats behind us. Eventually they went as a pack up into the hills to sleep.
As we set our feet on the car park asphalt, it became pitch black. We continued on to the lit bus stop and waited for the next bus.

city + friend

I once lived in the big city but now I live outside in a smaller one.
Suburbia and me aren't the greatest mix so as often as possible I'll liven the weekend with an impromptu trip.

I drink in the atmosphere of bright lights, signs, noise and traffic but continue to be fascinated by dark alleyways, old arcades and empty developments.

So I seek them out, question safety and have a quick look usually with a camera. There is nothing better than being in an unexpected place, where you are not meant to be.

I try and balance the nosey with normal as much as possible.
Last weekend went with my friend to her favourite spots.
I hate to pay for parking so search high, low and far for a free spot and walk/bus/train it everywhere I can before I need to rip my feet off.

We got lost in northern suburbia looking for a trademe vendor and then trying to get back into the city.
After finding a free park close to the CBD, we strolled to outlet furniture shops and encountered a random market day with stalls of cheap junk.
By bus to the next location, she bought some fabric- a roll of linen, bag of fabric and pillows stuffed into a plastic rucksack.
That was a mistake cause then we carried it everywhere, careful not to break things or hit things on our travels.
It got a bit tight at one stage in a small paper shop, you could barely swing a cat let alone linen!

We spent more time on the bus than actual stores but it was a great day with doses of caffeine.

"Next time, we have to hit all your favourite spots" she said.

Must look for some new ones on my next trip just to keep things interesting.