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 Toilet walls, postcards, gossip columns- nothing has become outdated yet as a medium to divulge information to our community or the world.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".