adventures in photography

We all know that I am a questing addict, and if you didn’t you do now, and today I went on a bit of a different type of questing mission and attacked the Tzaneen library where the is a very friendly librarian who tried to convince me into going into digital videos. When I got to the library I headed for my favourite section (I’ll give you one guess and a clue: they don’t have a scifi section) and started devouring a book on graphic printing in South Africa and when I was done with that I went back to place my book in its slot, saddened that the last person who had actually checked it out had returned the book in 2008.

The Tzaneen library is a sad place but it seems to cope and there were quite a few people in it and I guess Tzaneen is not Pretoria and the fact that they only have six shelves of art books that have hardly been touched is to be expected of the area. Sad but true. All things considered it could be worse.

So, after I had successfully devoured all the printing books they had I sighed as I looked at all the painting books (barely any drawing books and no sculpture books I could find) and LEARN HOW TO BE THE MOST AMAZING ARTIST THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN IN A WEEKEND self-help books my eyes found an amazing book - protruding from the shelf and begging to be touched. The font resembled handwriting and in black the title “DISPOSABLES” was scrawled down the spine. Curiosity almost killed the cat and I lifted it from the shelf and seated myself at a table.

The book is a collection of photos by Brett Morris who decided to start a project in which he paid people who were the “disposables” of South Africa to take photos on a couple of disposable cameras. These photographs of the underbelly of South Africa got my heart racing. These photos by the unemployed, car guards and homeless were some of the most beautiful I had ever seen. If there had ever been photographs of people these were them. The street scenes and their familiar settings bound together with their stories was pure magic. I felt full after that viewing.

I’ve never been a huge enthusiast of photography but recently I have had some more exposure and it is really fascinating stuff but that is all another story for another day. Anyway, I have never actually seriously tried photography – the last I did fine art wise photography was nearly two and a half years ago and it was simple pinhole photography which was quite amazing and a lot of fun but not enough to make it stick with me – but this book had me scribbling in my diary to find out about disposable cameras and later that day when I walked past Fujifilm I went in and made a bit of an irrational purchase.

I am excited and nervous and all those other weird feeling that come with a new project. Sometimes I think that I will never learn from some of my irrational behavior but maybe it is better that way.

the surprising thing is that i didn't die

Yesterday a bus fell over right before the turn off to get to our farm and the back up and traffic problems that it had caused were quite severe so instead of waiting in the boring que for heaven alone knows how many hours my father and i went for a drive around the local dam. due to a lot of recent rain it was full and funneling down its funnely with quite some force. I love water and I am particularly enamored by its strength and power. That passive looking dam could kill you without you in a matter of seconds - it is that Sylvia Plath Mushroom's idea: the calm, silent rebellion that is just waiting to burst.

On the other side of the dam wall is a set of stairs that lead down to the base and where the river starts.The moment I saw those stairs I had to climb them - my mind would not sit still until I have quested to the bottom and explored. This is both my muse and my vice - I must explore all nooks and crannies to see what there is to see. Despite the fact that there are about 200 stairs in between. I need a TARDIS.

Going down was really no trouble at all and soon I started to notice people had scraped graffiti into the stone stairs. I am a sucker for all graffiti even the "JO & MARY FOR EVA" ones. They always make me wonder if Jo & Mary even speak to each other any more or if I will find Jo's body tucked behind the chemical shed. The other graffiti I noticed was a handful of number on various steps: 60, 120, 200.

200 was one quite close to the end and by the end of the long line of stairs I looked up, admired my feat and went questing. Found some awesome things and hopefully there will be some drawings to post to tumblr soon. Soon I had quested to my heart's content and faced the next challenge: going back up.

*insert dramatic music here*

There I was at the base of some 200 stairs in my doc martins and jeans and I did not really want to leave the strange little spot I had found. I liked it down there and could easily have set up camp there but back up I had to go. About half way up I thought my lungs were going to fail me and my knees were telling me that this was possibly the second most idiotic thing I had ever done. Go me.

So, halfway up I stopped to rest and consider my fate if there were zombies behind me (the outlook was bleak) and snap a few pictures. I am still amazed at how the St. Josephs grow randomly in the wild and especially in between the rocks on this slope. Nature really kicks ass sometimes. Eventually I made it to the top and,, surprisingly, I did not die or need to be hospitalised.

Here is a little something I found while questing. Drawings will follow soon

i have beef with rihanna

this post might seem shallow but rihanna is stalking me and stealing my odd sounds and phrases. ask Miss M - she told me.

for those of you who know me you know i have been saying "yaaaaaaaaaaahhhzzz" since before i invented dinosaur face. for real, y'all, and now that girl who happens to have cooler hair than me at the moment has said it is cool. i should never have switched from dinosaur face.

to prove my point this is my editor and best friend's point of view after i told her that i was in fact the inventor of the phrase :

"totally. rihanna has followed you since you got twitter, saw you use it, then wrote it in a little notebook, waited for you to get over the phrase and decide it was lame and for her fame to reach its peak, then used it on twitter and BAM! she stole your thunder. totally."

and by the way, rihanna, if you steal any of Miss M's lines i will hunt you down with a cross bow. stop stealing lines. gosh

taking a hike

there are lilies growing beside road here. awesome, not?

 

You know what the best thing is about being a not-so-glorified bum? The mini vacations you take when you can’t face reality anymore. This might be why I will never be a responsible adult – when it all becomes too real I take a hike and wait for the steam to settle while I try to pretend to be oblivious to everything! Go, me. Take one for the team and all that jazz except that there aren’t really any other team members.

So I am visiting my dad. So far it has included good food (been trying my best to stick to my diet and getting it mostly right except that I have had cream cheese and pasta and maybe some Stollen) and a lot of relaxing and TV watching and internet surfing and talking to people in odd countries all over the world. It has been good and relaxing and I’ve only been here a few days. It feels good to get away from the big city and to just over indulge in Will & Grace reruns and amazing views and good books and rain and cold. Oh, how I love the wet weather up here.

Here is the view from my room to tease you with:

i wake up to this, suckers

 Also, there will be some food related blogs coming up. Say like AH if you like wild mushroom rissotto.

my best doctor

No sugar, no cheese, no dairy, no wheat, no drinking, no fizzy drinks, no more than two ear piercings, no going to bed after eleven and take my funny concoction twice a day.

I do not listen to men. I don’t know why but when men try to enforce some form of discipline on me I do not respond so it is a hard pill to swallow when I realize that I am drinking in every word that this Chinese doctor is telling me. He could tell me to cut my toe off and I would obey – after all this is the man I let jab twelve needles into me without question or protest. I just lay on his bed with his meditation music playing in the background while he flicked two needles into my stomach and three into the front of each knee and after about half an hour I let him flick two more into the back to my knees.

It didn’t hurt at all except for one of the back-of-the-knee ones that stung quite a bit. I’m no wimp when it comes to pain. I mean, after all, I walk around on my knees daily and I don’t break down every time they are sore. How would that help me get on with my life?

Now, an hour later I am feeling great – my knees are a bit stiff but the pain is mostly gone. Results: these are things I’ve never really had before and it feels good to know the pain isn’t gone because I took two mypaids and called you in the morning. What I am worried about is sticking to the new diet he has given me – no sugar, no wheat, no dairy. As a rule I don’t normally eat dairy or wheat as much as some people do but the whole “NO” is quite scary. In one foul swoop my Saturday Tribeca breakfast and tall cappuccino has been blasted away. I’ll have to find another treat that isn’t a bagel with cream cheese. In my mind the challenge feels impossible but I know I can do it.

I can walk the walk and talk the talk but can I do the do? I suspect this weekend might be quite hard to get through. Also, what will I have for supper tonight? A sandwich on rye bread? That’s what I had for lunch. I better rip out the Healthy Living Recipe Book and find something.

Oh, and I have slow, deep pulse? What does that mean? Dr Chiu doesn’t really make anything sound like it is a problem. After all, he did say “blood tests” and “autoimmune disease” as if he were offering me a juice box. Curses. But he is amazingly awesome and my best doctor. Thanks, Dr Chiu!

you can't see the writing but it says "my best doctor"

i do things that are uncalled for

Last night I wrote an angry blog that was totally uncalled for. It was uncalled for in the sense that I directed my anger at the completely wrong person when in actual fact I really, and this is the honest truth, am not mad at that person at all. I’m mad at the situation. I’m mad at the way people view me but still not complaining – it was fun while it lasted.

This is the problem though – when the fun and games are over I am the one sitting nursing my ego and all of my friends and a bunch of new people who know me by name saw me hooking up with a near stranger in a club. In that second I went for it I was declared loose. A loose, vagabond of a woman – and this mostly in the eyes of the women there – this is what people see when they see a girl kissing a boy in a club and I always find myself on the short end of the stick.

One of my friends has described, presumably this behavior, me being full of crap. Why? Can’t I kiss who I please and move on with my life? Why must it always be assumed that I want something solid when I text a guy inviting him out? Can’t it rather be assumed that it would be really great if we had a rerun of last Saturday night? No. And you know why?

Because I am a girl.

To quote Molly Crabapple, “Girls are taught to stay at home and protect their vaginae.” Sad truth. So when I am out there showing the world my map of Tasmania can I rather not be judged? Can I just be seen as a pioneer of a woman who does what she likes and doesn’t let her surpassed reputation stand in her way?

Because that is what it really is – women used to be held back by men and now they are held back by their reputations which is somehow linked to how many guys they’ve bedded. Screw that I’m a talented, smart person; I kissed a stranger at a club and now I am bad person. Thanks for nothing, world, I’ll obviously just a girl in the wrong.

Please, take a box and shove me inside it now.

Oh, and I apologize for the post and this one which just kinda morphed into a rant. I apologize and I don’t hate you.

feel

So, i've been trying this feeling thing. Miss M suggested it which is also in line of my new year's resolution that I dumped in January to "LOVE, unconditionally and with your whole heart." Feelings screw me over.

I've had enough of them. In the last two days I've gone from euphoric and full of positive energy that I was going to convert into artistic work and have now wasted on fixing my bedroom to whatever this shit is. And now I'm angry and on the verge of snapping. I want to break things, throw things and very possibly burn things. I wish I hadn't given my matches away.

And tomorrow morning I know I will get up and I'll be clawing to get out of the pit again. Thanks for nothing at all, feelings. You may now go die in a pit of useless emotional stress.

And now, let the forgetting commence. Also, bring on the tequila and Skins marathons.

i suspect this might all be a big mistake

i try not to have regrets. really, I try very hard to live with the copious amount of mistakes i make and pretend that they were all part of the original and mighty plan. however, sometimes i wonder if my spur of the moment thinking doesn't lead to greater chaos in my mind.

today i went for my 'trial run' at the place i went for an interview at and then, after four hours i quit the scene claiming that it wasn't for me which is not strictly true. I suspect that although I am quite awkward around children I was actually enjoying being around them. They said they thought I was nice, complimented me and generally made me feel good about myself. I felt free to be friendly to them and instead of being met by the wall of rejection my crazy is generally met with they were lovely and open and accepting.

Their, and my, supervisor was not as friendly, however.

I know how to work with difficult people,I have a thick skin and I can take other people's crazy ; what I can't take is people being nasty about or to people who have been nothing but lovely, nice and kind to me. People like this send my blood pressure through the roof. This supervisor was one of them.

Children are not quite the spawn of Satan that she points them out to be and even the boy who I had to tear down from the rafters gave me a high five later that day. These children just want you to be nice to them. If you yelled at me all day I'd also give you hell rather than be nice to you. Children have backbones - they are not rude(I admit, some of them are)or backstabbing or horrible brats.

These kids were nicer to me than some of the adults I know and they'd only met me once. But, hell, that woman drove me bananas in just four hours. Get a grip, woman. You're in charge of a bunch of minors - start acting like an adult.

Needless to say, I quit. Well, told them I wouldn't be working for them any more. Not because I can't handle the pace or the kids but because I might stab that woman with a pencil if I have to work for her.

this might be a problem

I have a job interview tomorrow.The time has come to be a responsible adult. Everything about it is ideal: good pay, only have to work in the afternoon, it is at the end of my friend’s street and I have a lift there and back again. There is only one set back: it is taking care of a group of children. And not like an au pair but like an after school care giver. My mother thinks it is easy – I have to help kids with their home work and make sure they do not die or lose limbs.

I am not the ideal candidate for this job, however, the pay means that I will be able to do things I like when I am on holiday like fly down to the coast to visit Miss M or (after a bit more saving) hop on a plane to go see the Wife and travel. One month’s pay is a (very, out of season) cheap one way ticket to Europe. And I bet I could use this as an advantage for my TEFL hours. And in my coffee breaks I can pop down to my friend’s place for ‘coffee’. However, I doubt I’ll have coffee breaks at all. So maybe we can scratch all of that.

Now, instead of updating my CV I am blogging. Great. Shit. To be perfectly honest I am terrified. When I spoke to Miss M on the phone earlier she laughed when I told her. She laughed for a very long time. This is why I haven’t had “time” to tell anybody else.

How is an irresponsible person becoming a caregiver for young children who might be taller than her? There is serious doubt in my mind that they would employ me: I have no experience and a quick temper. Children could be in danger. These people must be desperate.

Also, I need to find a top that I can wear to this thing. A t-shirt feels too unprofessional. Shit, bugger, fuck. I need to look presentable… How do you do that again?

for the love of food

Food.

God, I love the stuff. I love the flavour and the senses and the burst and the passion and the taste. I love food; melting and burning and pots and pans and smells. Oh, the smells that come out of the kitchen at the end of the day could melt my stoniest days and turn my heart to butter.

Especially the smell of curry coming from the kitchen – it’s Thai curry – and the fresh smell is intoxicating. My mouth waters as the prominent flavours turn from spicy, curry paste to freshly squeezed lime juice being added to the pot in a sizzle and rice being tested and the warmth that fills a kitchen and the fish and prawns and oh my! You could win me over with food like this: you could make me yours in a tick with a plate of good food and paralyze me with pure happiness.

Coriander – that’s my favourite. The moment the coriander hits the pot or my taste buds all heaven breaks loose. It’s beautiful and I could gush about it for hours and hours. It is even great growing in a pot or a window sill when the morning carries it in. Give me food – give me thai curry with coriander and I’ll be putty in your hands.

With food like this you could make me your slave.

right to the start

draw. write. music. eat. love.

 Those are the fundamental rules of life. Live by them and you will prosper or just grow really old. Eventually you will die but we’ll make the most of it – I swear.