ok so i'm a geek - but this is cool!

every now and again the homilies at mass will leave me a little bit confused. now most of the time they are simplistic, clichéd, and somewhat juvenile and this week fulfilled that criteria and then some. today's gospel was the naming of the twelve apostles and asking for laborers for the harvest. with the old testament and epistle there is quite a lot to work with, even to produce simplistic etc. but father started off saying that they gospel presents the apostles as being afraid and confused. father went on to say that we don't know much about the lives and characters of the apostles, except perhaps for peter, and that this was rather fitting because all of us are likely to be forgotten by history in time but that God will never forget us because we are His precious children. im afraid that i tuned out for most of the remainder of the homily (i'm sorry but hearing drivel week after week has that effect on one), but the phrases "God's precious children" "on eagle's wings" "each by name" did come up over and over again. i do remember the supposed distress on the part of the apostles not being cleared up. hence the confusion, on my part, remained.
i'd always thought that it was the crowds that were lost and astray like sheep (He does say to go to the lost sheep of Israel) and that the apostles are being sent to shepherd them so that they will no longer be lost and afraid. further, the traditions of the church tell us quite a bit about the lives and characters of the apostles and many other saints. in fact the church makes a point of recording the lives of the saints so that they won't be lost and so that we, the rest of the church, have visible examples of how to live out the gospel.

*sigh*

perhaps father simply mis-spoke and meant to say "crowds" at the beginning of his homily...

florescent lights and the hum of many computers... now why does this sound familiar?

our internet at home is dead so until it's resurrected i get to hang out at school in one of the various computer labs. fortunately since it's friday night, the place is relatively empty and quiet. undergrads make so much noise...

i went shopping to day, a mixture of clothes and errand type stuff. my cycling of two pairs pants for five days of work has been working but only just. there are a number of second hand shops scattered around so i headed toward's k rd after work this morning. two of the recycled clothes shops there have $20 caps on prices which just fits my budget. a little sifting through p'leather pants and paint-on jeans yielded up a decent pair of serviceable black pants that will do for both work and play. however neither had any shoes that would do so that hunt had to continue. you see, i throughly wore out my pair of black flats and have been using my boots most days for work. but they don't do so well for all of the walking i have to do getting to and from work. i've been in and out of shoe stores for the last couple of weeks, unwilling to spend nearly a week's pay on shoes, however my second hand shops were leaving me with little choice. as i headed home i resolved again to just pay the exorbitant prices and call it an "investment". my last call was to another op-shop, a church run basement store up and around the corner from us. they've been a good source for kitchen-type stuffs and i've been needing a mixing bowl. wandering into the dim underground room, i decided to look at the shoe offerings in the back, you know just in case. too small... too high... hmm this would work... nope too small.... last one. hey, it fits. now are they comfortable? seem so... and they're cheap too... sweet! and what to you know, a mixing bowl!

three out of three: must be my lucky day...

i'm such a girl sometimes...

for three months now we've been living in a narrow room, perhaps 3m by 6 m, in a converted office building next to the mortorway. we have one window that looks out into the carpark. the side of the building to our left has been converted into a great billboard that has been covered with three different adverts: the first was innocuous (milk), the second offensive (tv show - don't ask), and the current one is ...mmm, colorful (petrol). across the carpark and beyond to the left are old brick buildings. the farther ones simply make for interesting lines, chimneys, false fronts detailing that is left out of most modern buildings. but the one directly across from us is someone's loft apartment. they have many windows and a balcony; the front door is grey painted planks a high step above the slanting pavement. during the days the lady hangs out her laundry and it blows in the wind that is always coming up from the direction of the sea. the sea, or more properly, the gulf lies out to the right, both to the west and east. you have to stand on the end of the bed and lean against the wall and nearly press your face up against the glass to get a good view, but you can see it. away to the east are islands and the far curve of the mainland. it has to be a clear day to see very far. some days the gulf is filled with sails, bits of small white hardly moving. they look like bits of torn paper thrown up into the wind and coming down in whatever fashion the sprite chooses. the near island is a volcanic cone, covered in greens that change according to the light. on bright days it is a verdant green, bespeaking much life and growth, beckoning the city-worn to come and rest in the quietude. on days that are dim with clouds or mists or rain, it becomes sullen and foreboding, reminding one that it is after all still an active volcano, merely resting between fits of activity. far out in the distance, over the greyness of the water are greater islands. the mountain range can be seen on days that are not too hazy. they seem like entirely other worlds from our little room, so far away and beyond us. the center of the city lies in the middle distance, dominated by tall buildings and towers. here and there gaps can be identified as relics of the old city or bits of reserve greenery.

i didn't like it much at first. it's small and finding places to put things so they would be "away" was a challenge. the wireless signal, while legal and on the up-and-up, is patchy at best and subject to frequent bouts of mind numbing slowness or vanishes all together. we have to share a narrow kitchen fitted out with ill-tempered electric burners (more than half of which at the moment do not work - that makes for 13 people trying to cook on three burners!) and not very good pots and pans. it took some time to get a feel for other's cooking schedules and routines. S. cooks only rice and something based on kim chee. A. stir fries copious amounts of vegetables every couple of nights. K., the resident 'artist', bakes on most nights - a mix of chicken and vegetables coated with a sweet chili sauce. we weave our way around them, making do with as few pans and burners and counter space as possible. but gradually somehow it's grown on me. the near constant chatter of voices in the lounge in the early evening while not always pleasant, is more friendly than the motorway. cooking supper often combines conversation with people whose only other contact with america has been through tv and movies. watching our neighbours across the court coming and going though the day. i've developed a fondness for our neighbours particularly the lady. she has hair of a lovely silver white and nearly always wears a skirt, knee length, with high socks and a layers of sweaters. she will sit out on the balcony at a small table brought out specially for sitting in the sun; she will read for hours, drinking coffee (it must be coffee, that's all people drink here). as the sunlight become warmer, she'll gradually unlayer like a flower shaking off dew. first her hat and scarf, then outer sweater. what view out the window that is not taken up with buildings is filled with sky. the city is nicknamed 'sky city', whether for the tower that dominates the skyline or for the sky itself. it is the most dynamic sky that i have yet lived under. being so close to the sea it is never cloudless. they pile up high creating fantastic cities, full of towers and hills in mimicry of the one below. the winds are constantly in motion, often sweeping roughly across this narrow strip of land, surprised to be running into something so foreign on their journey across the wide ocean. they hurry the clouds along with little care for their elaborate configurations. sunlight and shadow, rain and brightness follow so quickly one on the other that at times it will be raining through the bright sunlight and blue skies.

still it is not an ideal place by any measure. we frequently talk of finding somewhere new but assignments will pile up or the internet will die for days and we become distracted. well yesterday while the wireless signal was momentarily alive we went looking. this time something came up, something that was less than where we are now and they weren't put off right from the outset because there were two of us. the evening twilight saw us squelching through the mud of the cricket pitch and rugby field taking a short cut through the domain. the place was beautiful;
third level over looking the trees and sweep of grass we'd just walked across. windows facing east and north; open kitchen with gas stove and granite countertops; drawers and cupboards to spare; a real bathroom with shower and tub; bedroom and closet; and to cap it off, a study. by the time we'd walked home we'd decided that we could afford whatever up front costs there would be to move in. the day was spent with a vague anxiousness and frequent glancing at the phone to make sure that i'd not missed a call. i found myself thinking almost nostalgically about our flatmates here, wondering if we'd somehow run into them after we were gone. as hour after hour passed without hearing anything, we grew less and less confident. by the time the call actually came it was not much of a disappointment.
"we've decided that we really don't have enough room for a couple. good luck with your searching." (having personally packed nearly all of my current possessions into two suitcases i personally found the statement somewhat bemusing. but such preconceptions are part of life.)

as i said, i've become used to living here, almost to like it and think of it as a home of sorts. but then the wireless signal dies, or have to wade through the puddle left in protest by the water spirit (i still haven't figured out how to appease him), or walk into the kitchen to find it a near disaster zone and i can't help but think that for what we're paying we shouldn't have to wade through puddles or clean up after other people. so i'm left not knowing quite what to do, not wanting to give into that part of me that says i'm too good for this place, that i deserve better. i tell that part of me to stop being such an over privileged american and that if its enough for the others who live here then its enough for me. i don't want to be like most of the other americans i've met down here, supported by someone else's money. i guess that leaves us in our 3m x 6m room for the time being.

"coming...

coming..."

how many of you remember the old disney cartoon robin hood? the one with the foxes and rabbits and bears and other "forest" type creatures. i loved the movie growing up (and still do for that matter) and some of my earliest memories are wanting to be like robin hood and live out in the forest until i was very old. ...being a fabulous shot with a bow was not too bad either, but that's going to take a bit more work.

anyway, at the big archery tourney, sir hiss gets himself stuck in a barrel of wine. prince john comes looking for him after the big hullabaloo involving lady kluck becoming the worlds greatest linebacker (i actually think my love of american football stems from this one scene). "hiss! hiss! you're never around when i need you!" hiss replies in a high sing-song voice: "coming...coming..."

the scene replays itself in my mind when ever anyone is looking for me or when something is expected of me...
needless to say tales of our adventures are coming

(my apologies for the delay; excuses of class work will only work for so long)

Part the first: adventure has a way slipping into your blood and breathing, shading the way you see the world

standing in the chill darkness, my still damp suit was miserable to put on; i could feel the goosebumps rising all over my body. down the steep embankment i could hear the water of the stream rushing by and voices of the rest of the group rising up with the steam from the water. the motorway was almost out of earshot, the sound of an occasional passing car or truck filtering though the trees and bush. i slipped my shoes back on and tried to slip though the brambles reaching out over the small track without getting myself caught on the barbs.

"i was hoping to just head into town and find supper and then go home" my beloved whispered.
"i know, but this should be good. com'on, do you really want to pass up a hotpool in the middle of the bush?"

slipping into the warm water of the stream was a relief after the growing chillness of the air. as i sank to the gravely bottom i thought back over the last few days.

the drive south was somewhat mind bending. coming from the northern hemisphere we're accustomed to associating "cold" with going further north; whereas here in the antipodes its the opposite. it seems like a simple enough idea to wrap your head around...

the late afternoon sunlight was fading as we pulled over at on the edge of a small town. there was steam rising everywhere, from small clumps of bush and little piles of rock. looking closer one could see fenced off enclosures scattered around ostensibly to prevented wanderers from straying too close to cracks in the rocky ground or pools of hot mud. driving a short while longer down the highway and then down a few deserted byways lead us to an even more impressive display of geothermal activity. a bubbling, spouting pool of mud lay before us. around the edges mounds had built up, miniature volcanoes sides flowing with years' accumulation of spattering. it was fascinating to watch and even more to listen to. it burbled and spat, sounding for all the world like grumpy old men arguing about detailed matters only they could see as important. the nearly full moon shown down though the rising steam, reflecting back from wavering pools that danced as they were disturbed and speckled by falling drops of mud. the growing chillness of the air hurried us back to the car the promise of a soak in a hotpool more alluring than further observation of bubbling mud.

the heated falls was a long walk down a closed road. the air was weighted and still, no birds or insects could be heard, just our voices and the sound of our footfalls on the rough pavement. you could hear the falls a good ways before the turn off into the bush. a quick change and some groping in the dark and then the slow immersion into hot water. steam rose, was caught in the tree branches and fell back in fat drops. the waxing moon slowly rose, moonbeams breaking through the dense bracken and seeming to solidify in the misty air. but for wanting supper i could have willingly stay in the pool all night.

the chill evening had given way to a cold night; the damp cold that works its way between the fibers of your clothes and then settles down for the night. we were camping near another waterfall, this one not heated. it's voice could be heard around the small embankment, the stream moving off into the darkness. we set up our borrowed tent as quickly as we could and curled up for the night.

a few of you have asked me if we've had any adventures here in the antipodes yet. i've had to tell them no, which is kind of disappointing. i suppose there are the daily domesticated adventures (such as the frowning of the kitchen gods upon me resulting in two successive cooking disasters) and the random odd or beautiful thing that catches (for example, the thick layer of soap suds on the central fountain in the park across from the university), but no real adventures. this might be in part due to the fact that we are both working and studying to the point that we can't remember what day it is, or the fact that we haven't been able to leave the city.

however we've thrown care and responsibility to the wind (which maintains quite a presence here so it wasn't that difficult once we decided to do it) and are taking the weekend off. the whole weekend. starting in about an hour. i'd give you a run down of our general itinerary but i'm not too clear on it myself. we're headed south toward mountains and forests and lakes and hotsprings and generally cooler weather. i should return with tales of conversations and waterfalls and hours of tramping. and Beloved should have some amazing photographs to share.

so adventure is on it's way...

could those of you who still remember Kant comment on the idea of academics (ie those in academia) as "knowledge producers"?
the phrase was brought up at the university and strikes me as being both arrogant and erroneous. it's wrong even without going into the process of coming to know. knowledge is something other than information. information can be made and produced, stored and passed around. but knowledge is what's inside of you after you've assimilated that information.

we the rich are all one with the dead
one day - perhaps even soon
we who now tread so heavily
will join them in the silent sleep
beneath the earth
exchanging the sunlight both sweet and harsh
and the touch of the wind upon the cheek
for crumbling stone and dry earth
and what will remain to mark our sojourn?

the lives of countless others
nameless faceless distant
kept broken and poor to fill our desires
they too will die - be laid in the ground
to enjoy perhaps the first rest
they have ever known

the tawdry signs and boards displaying
our valuing of life and love
a theme of lust and greed
appealing to senses already deadened
and appetites brought low through a surfeit of plenty

what call have I to mourn for us?
we take from life what we will
the self all important
and consummately empty
perhaps it is that emptiness that brings sorrow
the loss of so much that could be
and never comes before the sleep
beneath the head of stone

reflection from class last week

the train comes by
filling the window space
with rush and rattle
drawing my attention
down the tracks - away - away
clatter clack clatter clack
bringing an unheeded freight
of silence in its wake
leaving the mind to wonder
of the where's and who's
coming and going in so
passing a fashion

seems like i should write something today but i forgot the exercise book with my scribbles from this past week and don't feel up to recreating them off the top of my head... there's more poetry coming it'll just be a bit...

They shall grow not old,
As we that are left grow old,
Age shall not weary them,
Nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun,
And in the morning
We will remember them. Lest we Forget

it's Anzac day today, a memorial of the landing of the ANZAC troops at Gallipoli. last friday there were tables set-up all over town selling poppies and people have been wearing them all week. there were dawn services at the war museum and memorial services all over the city. it's a national public holiday and people seem to be glad of the three day week-end but there seems to be more of a general consciousness of the reason for the memorial. the papers here have been filled with war stories; the library had books about Gallipoli and the Anzacs; signs around that say "we will remember them, lest we forget." all in all a distinct lack of commercialization about the whole thing - no sales for the week-end, no big movie releases. all so very different from our memorial day.

May their souls and all the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace.

i love the way the rain
melts away the edges
of the distant hills
green greys made soft
kissed by a morning
bow

today i saw a lovely red porsche with a bike rack (and a bike on the bike rack) on the back... it made me smile.

i've spent the majority of the last couple of days going through the company "induction" - ie standard training for incoming staff. it's been a rather odd experience, since i'm just the cleaning girl and kitchen help. at every other job i've worked it's pretty much been a case of getting dumped into the deep end of the pool and being told 'now swim - quickly.' it's what i've always thought should happen when starting a new job, actually telling people about forms, styles and standards for documents, giving a run though on how the email system works, how to file documents and then search for them, generally trying to make everyone who comes in feel as though they were part of the company community. And yet i almost feel myself resisting or vaguely resenting it. perhaps it's because i am "just the cleaning girl" and i don't see the majority of this applying to me. on the whole it's very interesting to see my reaction to the whole process.

when doing research for an academic type paper, when do you know you've done enough? i'm at the point where i'm re-reading articles that i somehow printed off twice without realizing it - and i'm not picking up that i've already read the whole bloody thing 'til i get close to a third of the way though...

sigh

i think i just don't want to start writing...

first day of work today. oh, yes - i've managed to get a job. it actually came through the other day in the late afternoon. i had a day to go and find suitable 'office' type clothes on a very limited budget. fortunately there is a decent secondhand shop just up the road that will yield up some very decent goods if one just sifts though it long enough. so i'm officially the new 'catering assistant' at a rather swank law firm on the harbor-side edge of downtown. in reality i'm the cleaning girl who takes apart the coffee machine, makes sure nothing is growing in the refrigerator, wipes down the counters and tops off the milk and biscuits every morning. i may get to do some baking and cookery type things, but i think my main function will be to clean... but we'll see how things progress.

our internet connection is freaking out.

i was listening to concert radio NZ but decided i'd had enough classical music for the morning (as it was fueling my desire to curl up with tea and read novel) and thought i'd switch over to wxpn out of philly.
now the internet has been slow all morning - pages taking longer than usual to load, radio coming in and out, but playing nonetheless. so i find station page, link to live streaming, load it into winamp and wait. and wait. now it become a test of wills. its been 'buffering' for the last 5 mins now reading 0% 20% 50% 80% 0% over and over and over.

i give up. 'net: 1 me: 0

i don't know what the deal is. the building is practically deserted during the day. who is choking up all of the bandwidth???

the rain drops run down the pane and i fear me the wind is blowing them in onto the window sill as well, in spite of the mostly closed window. my little basil plant in its over stuffed wee pot will get very little sunlight today. the wind makes our small room rather drafty and chill, but without the cracked window it is unpleasantly stuffy. the cars are backing up along the mortorway - it seems drivers do know how to drive cautiously, it just takes a spell of nasty weather to bring it out.

i have thus far spent the morning tucked away with my book, watching the window out of the corner of my eye to judge the time. but the clouds are thick and low - touching the tops of some of the higher buildings in the downtown and entirely hiding the tower (a word about the tower: picture the lower half an inverted Cloud City and you've about got it) - preventing me from being able to judge the light very well. so now the morning is nearly gone and i am no more inclined to turn from my book than i was a few hours ago. it still looks like it did at 7.30, why should i be wanting to be productive?
answer: because i've a term paper to produce in two an a half weeks time...

ah, i have news: my class schedule has taken yet another potential job from me. perhaps i will elaborate the subtle intricacies of my class schedule as laid out by this institution of higher education. but not now. i am disappointed - i actually wanted this one. a bookstore, even though located in a mall, is still a bookstore.

c'est la vie

what word describes the sound of air pouring fourth from a vent? one of those square ones you see in drop ceilings across the westernized world. "rushing"? "discharge"? "effusion"?
coupled with the tapping clatter of keys and the occasional bit of objuration coming from the disgruntled ESRI crafters it re-enforces the weighted silence of the grad student lounge.

what am i doing here?

i am "researching" for my next paper. this one is about farming subsidies. i will readily admit that i am feeling a distinct lack of enthusiasm for the topic. the propositions for my proposal are dull and lifeless; i wrote them because i had to but i don't know if they will actually lead to anything worthwhile, much less 4000-5000 words worth of something... objectively i am pretty sure that they are actually ok (i think, this could be wishful thinking though). but i, the researcher and scribbler of words, am finding nothing in what i wrote that is leading me to further thought on what more to write...

what am i doing here?

i don't want to be an academic. an inveterate scribbler of words out of touch with the world and reality who takes other papers and makes new ones to feed the endless cycle of journals and digests while feeding the ego with thoughts of informing those who form the minds of the masses... a scholar perhaps, learned, well-read, conversant, trained in the lore and practice of my immediate field and those related. but an academic?

one of the first things i was told about auckland and nz in general was that there are more cafes and coffee-type shops per capita than any where else in the world. now whether or not this is (f)actually true there are certainly a whole heck of a lot of them. no street is complete without at least two per block. add to this that every other cafe seems to also be a licensed bar and you have a rather interesting dynamic set up for job hunting...

"do you know how to make coffee*?"
"no, but i learn really quickly"
"do you know how to work behind a bar?"
"no..."
"well, i'm looking for someone who is already trained, but if no one comes up i'll be sure to get back to you"
"ok, sounds great. thanks for your time"

if you don't know how to make coffee* (*espresso, et al - they don't do drip coffee here) or how to pour drinks, you and your cv can go to the back of the line. and the idea of training is almost unheard of - if you don't already know what you are doing you are wasting their time.

back to the drawing board; there has to be something i can do in this soddering city...

*sigh*

i was saving up little things all week to share and now they are gone...

*sing-song*
all gone...

there was something about rain in the city - how it sticks and is messy and dirty - how natural bits that we take for granted in other towns, wind, rain, tree lined streets, all seem rather lost and distracted in this city - as if they are still trying to figure out why there are tall ugly buildings and mazes of pavement blending roads and sidewalks and alleys where there was forest and streams for so very long - how wind and rain are very old and have very long memories and become used to change so very slowly with much confusion in the between times

but i've forgotten it... i was not feeling so well for most of this week; but i'm better now.

in other news i turned in my first graduate paper today. "where does the answer lie? population control and the disjunction between the arguments" my thanks to em for her help in finding resources. i'll see about putting up a link to it somewheres abouts if anyone is interested (or perhaps even if there isn't any interest...)

signing off...