I came across this music video by a Kiwi singer I've never even heard of before - filmed in stop motion photography from Bluff to Cape Reinga, the deep south of New Zealand to the northernmost point. It gave me itchy feet and it's pretty awesome, so - here is the link:
Jonny Love, 'Weight of Tomorrow'
[ I would embed it on here, but it's too wide for my blog width! ]
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
criticism
I'm not that great at accepting criticism.
Over the years I've gotten used to having my creative writing critiqued by the small writing group of which I am a part. Partly because they are really helpful, really good at it, and say things in a very nice way. But also partly because I know my writing's nowhere near perfect and I really need the help! The few times I've written something that I've really loved, I've known for sure that I will get a positive response because I am a reasonable judge of my own (creative) writing.
It's different with my historical writing. It took me ages - ages - to get to the point where I could hand something to my supervisor that I knew was imperfect without wanting to die. It took me even longer to hear them telling me that something I thought was okay is actually bad without bursting into tears as soon as I'm out of earshot. It's really hard to cope with when you are hitherto unaware of these faults.
I'm better at accepting criticism than I was. My two supervisors are very kind men, and one in particular is very good at making it clear that he knows I am good at history, and that that opinion is not going to change, whatever he may say about this particular piece of writing or this particular opinion of mine. It's easier now to accept criticism from them without feeling like they're going to say something like this:
This chapter contains errors, poorly laid out arguments, and bad prose. It was a waste of my valuable time. You are unworthy of Masterhood, and the university asks you to leave and never come back.
So things have improved. I am becoming less insecure.
All the same, though, sometimes I feel like I've gone straight back to square one. At this precise moment, I've had weeks of thinking that I really want to do a PhD, that the world needs a doctoral thesis written by me, and that I may be able to get a good scholarship in universities all over the world to enable me to do this. Then, I get one tiny piece of negative feedback, and suddenly I am questioning my own presumption, my own arrogance in thinking that I have anything of value to contribute. Insecurity = returned.
It's worrying, because if a PhD does anything it separates the wheat from the chaff, the emotionally stable from the emotionally instable. Slowly I've been coming to the conclusion that the people I've always thought were really really clever simply have stickability. They don't give up. They persevere beyond insecurity. (They also love what they're doing. Which, at least, is something I've got.) So will I be able to cope with a PhD, in a foreign country with people who have more sophisticated accents and more postmodern interests, without my family, without the supervisors I've come to trust and rely on? Is my inability to trust myself more defining than my ability to do history?
[NB: I am currently trying to finish my thesis, hence the slightly frazzled nerves.]
Over the years I've gotten used to having my creative writing critiqued by the small writing group of which I am a part. Partly because they are really helpful, really good at it, and say things in a very nice way. But also partly because I know my writing's nowhere near perfect and I really need the help! The few times I've written something that I've really loved, I've known for sure that I will get a positive response because I am a reasonable judge of my own (creative) writing.
It's different with my historical writing. It took me ages - ages - to get to the point where I could hand something to my supervisor that I knew was imperfect without wanting to die. It took me even longer to hear them telling me that something I thought was okay is actually bad without bursting into tears as soon as I'm out of earshot. It's really hard to cope with when you are hitherto unaware of these faults.
I'm better at accepting criticism than I was. My two supervisors are very kind men, and one in particular is very good at making it clear that he knows I am good at history, and that that opinion is not going to change, whatever he may say about this particular piece of writing or this particular opinion of mine. It's easier now to accept criticism from them without feeling like they're going to say something like this:
This chapter contains errors, poorly laid out arguments, and bad prose. It was a waste of my valuable time. You are unworthy of Masterhood, and the university asks you to leave and never come back.
So things have improved. I am becoming less insecure.
All the same, though, sometimes I feel like I've gone straight back to square one. At this precise moment, I've had weeks of thinking that I really want to do a PhD, that the world needs a doctoral thesis written by me, and that I may be able to get a good scholarship in universities all over the world to enable me to do this. Then, I get one tiny piece of negative feedback, and suddenly I am questioning my own presumption, my own arrogance in thinking that I have anything of value to contribute. Insecurity = returned.
It's worrying, because if a PhD does anything it separates the wheat from the chaff, the emotionally stable from the emotionally instable. Slowly I've been coming to the conclusion that the people I've always thought were really really clever simply have stickability. They don't give up. They persevere beyond insecurity. (They also love what they're doing. Which, at least, is something I've got.) So will I be able to cope with a PhD, in a foreign country with people who have more sophisticated accents and more postmodern interests, without my family, without the supervisors I've come to trust and rely on? Is my inability to trust myself more defining than my ability to do history?
[NB: I am currently trying to finish my thesis, hence the slightly frazzled nerves.]
Monday, September 27, 2010
how to:
Tonight I made This:
I have a smallish-medium sized jewellery collection that I just don't use. It's really sad. I've figured out that it's because I keep it all smushed together in a box and so I don't even remember what it is that I have.
First step in fixing this: An earring holder.
A shoebox lid + pretty paper from one of my favourite shops, Trade Aid + glue + a nail to poke holes = and there you have it! I am quite happy with it, actually a little too proud of it, so this is why I am displaying it on here, almost immediately.
In a quaking update, we have now had over 1000 earthquakes in Christchurch, over the last three weeks. The first one was the big one, the aftershocks vary in size and depth. This morning our entire church building was shaken by a relatively small 3.6 and a 4.1, but the epicentre was only a few blocks away - an interesting experience. Who knows how long they'll keep coming? They're still interesting to talk about with every single person you meet, but they're becoming second nature to me now.
I have a smallish-medium sized jewellery collection that I just don't use. It's really sad. I've figured out that it's because I keep it all smushed together in a box and so I don't even remember what it is that I have.
First step in fixing this: An earring holder.
A shoebox lid + pretty paper from one of my favourite shops, Trade Aid + glue + a nail to poke holes = and there you have it! I am quite happy with it, actually a little too proud of it, so this is why I am displaying it on here, almost immediately.
In a quaking update, we have now had over 1000 earthquakes in Christchurch, over the last three weeks. The first one was the big one, the aftershocks vary in size and depth. This morning our entire church building was shaken by a relatively small 3.6 and a 4.1, but the epicentre was only a few blocks away - an interesting experience. Who knows how long they'll keep coming? They're still interesting to talk about with every single person you meet, but they're becoming second nature to me now.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
our very own installation artwork
A few days ago, we woke up to find that during the night some charming specimen of humanity had decided to chuck a bucket-full of paint over our fence. White paint was splattered all over our deck, some of the fence and also on the house itself.
This is partly ironic because I'd been feeling really positive about humanity in the few weeks leading up to this. I'd forgotten that Neanderthals still exist.
We rang our landlords as soon as we realised, figuring they would want to know. 'Do you want us to have a go at it?' we asked, knowing that five girls had no chance against sticky white paint.
'No, no,' they replied. 'We'll come round straight away.'
To be fair to them, they are absolutely fabulous and it's not every landlord that would care about their own property and their duty to their tenants the way they do. Every problem we've ever had with the house has been sorted out in record time.
It's just that when they came round, they brought with them a waterblaster to attack the paint with, and they proceeded, basically, to blow the paint from its existing spots to all other spots that hadn't already got paint on them.
Now we have white paint splashed all over our vegetables; the vegetables we've been growing all winter in the hopes of one day eating them and which have only just become edible and which are now, all, inedible. The rosemary we've been growing for over a year is covered in paint. The little miniature rose, planted in my favourite favourite pot is also now covered in paint.
Sigh.
This is partly ironic because I'd been feeling really positive about humanity in the few weeks leading up to this. I'd forgotten that Neanderthals still exist.
We rang our landlords as soon as we realised, figuring they would want to know. 'Do you want us to have a go at it?' we asked, knowing that five girls had no chance against sticky white paint.
'No, no,' they replied. 'We'll come round straight away.'
To be fair to them, they are absolutely fabulous and it's not every landlord that would care about their own property and their duty to their tenants the way they do. Every problem we've ever had with the house has been sorted out in record time.
It's just that when they came round, they brought with them a waterblaster to attack the paint with, and they proceeded, basically, to blow the paint from its existing spots to all other spots that hadn't already got paint on them.
Now we have white paint splashed all over our vegetables; the vegetables we've been growing all winter in the hopes of one day eating them and which have only just become edible and which are now, all, inedible. The rosemary we've been growing for over a year is covered in paint. The little miniature rose, planted in my favourite favourite pot is also now covered in paint.
Sigh.
Monday, September 20, 2010
spring
It's spring! My favourite time of year (narrowly beating autumn). Two weeks ago I took my nieces to the Botanic Gardens, which are currently radiant. We danced around the band rotunda singing songs from Mary Poppins, made daisy chains, and skipped around the masses of daffodils. I go a little silly in springtime.
It reminds me of getting back from the UK last year. I wasn't all that eager to return, but once I was here again - at the beginning of October at the last gasp of spring - I fell in love with my hometown once again. I remember walking down the road to my sister's house smelling all the flowers and the cleanness, and, as ridiculously idyllic as this sounds, listening to birds chirruping in the trees, feasting themselves silly. There was a slightly overwhelming brightness to everything. Europe can be quite dim, even in sunlight, but the sunlight here is so raw and cheerful. (It's probably because we have a depleted ozone layer, and therefore have to be very careful to sunblock-up. Still, it's very pleasant.)
I love the turning of the seasons. Constant change, rediscovering the familiar.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
mental health weekend
Escaping to Dunedin for the weekend was a really good decision, it turns out.
I bused down on Friday.
It's a five hour trip which only becomes interesting in the last hour or so when you get to the coastline. This was a very wobbly photo I took.
Got into Dunedin at about 2pm and hung around at the Dunedin Railway Station (above) for a while until my sister finished work. It was a beautiful sunny day, and everything would have been perfect if I could only have found a café. I sat outside with my bags reading From Russia With Love in the sun (which, by the way, is racy in an incredibly old-fashioned, sexist way - but I still had to find out what happened).
My sister V. is married with three kids between the ages of eight and thirteen. They are an awesome family and it was so good to see them again. I also happen to love their house - it's around the Otago peninsula a bit, at the top of a hill, right next to a park with an amazing view of the harbour. They have the most lovely dog, Oscar, as well as a cat called Mufasa, both of whom make me wish that I had a dog and a cat.
When we got there, V., my eldest niece and I went for a walk with Oscar. Dunedin is awesome because it's a city (smallish but still a city) but it's almost like the wilderness is right next door. The wildlife is prolific - sea lions, all manner of birdlife including penguins and falcons, occasinally whales, etc - and there are tons of green green hills.
That evening, V., her husband and I watched Boy, which has just come out on DVD. This is the latest/greatest Kiwi film, directed by Taika Waititi. It's set in the 80s in a tiny community in the North Island and it's about a little boy who is a huge fan of Michael Jackson. It's one of those movies which half the time has you laughing and the other half makes you want to cry. I recommend it highly. Highlights in it were the performances of the children, and their ne'er-do-well father, played by Waititi.
On Saturday, my sister decided to take me to visit Broad Bay China Shop, along with my sister R. who also lives in Dunedin and my niece. I thought this was a strange decision given my current state of earthquake-apprehension. I couldn't drive around Dunedin without audibly wincing at all the tall, old, unstable brick buildings with huge chimneys. So a shop full of breakables wasn't going to be particularly distracting.
It was, however, a good decision. Broad Bay is a short drive around the harbour in a cute wee area, and Broad Bay China is one of the coolest shops I have ever been to. Bursting with china and so many other things, it would undoubtedly be a disaster zone in an earthquake, but nevertheless, it is AWESOME.
Besides the little building you can see in the photo above, there are at least three other rooms jampacked with china, vintage lace, jewellery, clothing, and much much more. There is expensive stuff and there is also stuff that is incredibly affordable and also tempting. I bought stuff and V. bought me a birthday present, and altogether I returned to Christchurch with:
- three saucers with the most beautiful blue and white painted design which I am going to hang on my wall someday.
- a little mug with Big Ears (from Enid Blyton's Noddy books) painted on it.
- salt and pepper shakers that look like toad stools.
- a painted tile which I will use as a hot plate.
My precious...
This Saturday fast became one of my top Saturdays when we stopped in soon after at Broad Bay cemetery. This tiny cemetery is balanced on a little peninsula, which juts out only a little further (pictured below) with huge pine trees surrounding it. I LOVE CEMETERIES AND I LOVE BROAD BAY CEMETERY. I'd put it in my top ten so far.
That night, V. and family took me up to a secret (okay, not secret but not exactly famous) location up the valley where the Leith River flows. We took torches and raincoats and climbed up a gully until we found glow-worms!! It was an amazing experiential moment, standing in a tight little riverbed gazing up above at the dark lushness of the trees and ferns and the slightly less dark sky, with shining little lights like candles speckled around us in the darkness. I felt like huddling down in a sleeping bag and just watching all night.
On Sunday we went to church in the morning. V. and family attend a lovely little church which always seems so happy and enthusiastic. Good refreshment.
In the afternoon, V. and the kids took me to the beach. It was another beautiful day - I cannot help but mention that Dunedin is not known for good weather two days in a row - so despite the still refreshing winds and still-freezing water we were happily paddling and removing outer layers.
While the boys made dams, V., niece and I went for a walk along the beach with Oscar, who is the most charming dog ever known, past people on horses, past surf lifesavers practising, past more and more dogs who all wanted to play...
... then back to the boys where we too mucked around on the beach with sand and water... Lovely.
On Monday morning I caught up with my sister R. again and then went shopping in Dunedin town before catching my bus home. Great weekend. Much needed.
And now I am back at university, trying to get back into the swing of things. There are huge cracks in the plaster walls on our floor, but we have been assured by the VC that 'all the cracks you may come across have been seen by structural engineers and the buildings are perfectly safe'. Well, fingers crossed!
I bused down on Friday.
It's a five hour trip which only becomes interesting in the last hour or so when you get to the coastline. This was a very wobbly photo I took.
Got into Dunedin at about 2pm and hung around at the Dunedin Railway Station (above) for a while until my sister finished work. It was a beautiful sunny day, and everything would have been perfect if I could only have found a café. I sat outside with my bags reading From Russia With Love in the sun (which, by the way, is racy in an incredibly old-fashioned, sexist way - but I still had to find out what happened).My sister V. is married with three kids between the ages of eight and thirteen. They are an awesome family and it was so good to see them again. I also happen to love their house - it's around the Otago peninsula a bit, at the top of a hill, right next to a park with an amazing view of the harbour. They have the most lovely dog, Oscar, as well as a cat called Mufasa, both of whom make me wish that I had a dog and a cat.
When we got there, V., my eldest niece and I went for a walk with Oscar. Dunedin is awesome because it's a city (smallish but still a city) but it's almost like the wilderness is right next door. The wildlife is prolific - sea lions, all manner of birdlife including penguins and falcons, occasinally whales, etc - and there are tons of green green hills.
That evening, V., her husband and I watched Boy, which has just come out on DVD. This is the latest/greatest Kiwi film, directed by Taika Waititi. It's set in the 80s in a tiny community in the North Island and it's about a little boy who is a huge fan of Michael Jackson. It's one of those movies which half the time has you laughing and the other half makes you want to cry. I recommend it highly. Highlights in it were the performances of the children, and their ne'er-do-well father, played by Waititi.On Saturday, my sister decided to take me to visit Broad Bay China Shop, along with my sister R. who also lives in Dunedin and my niece. I thought this was a strange decision given my current state of earthquake-apprehension. I couldn't drive around Dunedin without audibly wincing at all the tall, old, unstable brick buildings with huge chimneys. So a shop full of breakables wasn't going to be particularly distracting.
It was, however, a good decision. Broad Bay is a short drive around the harbour in a cute wee area, and Broad Bay China is one of the coolest shops I have ever been to. Bursting with china and so many other things, it would undoubtedly be a disaster zone in an earthquake, but nevertheless, it is AWESOME.
Besides the little building you can see in the photo above, there are at least three other rooms jampacked with china, vintage lace, jewellery, clothing, and much much more. There is expensive stuff and there is also stuff that is incredibly affordable and also tempting. I bought stuff and V. bought me a birthday present, and altogether I returned to Christchurch with:- three saucers with the most beautiful blue and white painted design which I am going to hang on my wall someday.
- a little mug with Big Ears (from Enid Blyton's Noddy books) painted on it.
- salt and pepper shakers that look like toad stools.
- a painted tile which I will use as a hot plate.
My precious...
This Saturday fast became one of my top Saturdays when we stopped in soon after at Broad Bay cemetery. This tiny cemetery is balanced on a little peninsula, which juts out only a little further (pictured below) with huge pine trees surrounding it. I LOVE CEMETERIES AND I LOVE BROAD BAY CEMETERY. I'd put it in my top ten so far.
That night, V. and family took me up to a secret (okay, not secret but not exactly famous) location up the valley where the Leith River flows. We took torches and raincoats and climbed up a gully until we found glow-worms!! It was an amazing experiential moment, standing in a tight little riverbed gazing up above at the dark lushness of the trees and ferns and the slightly less dark sky, with shining little lights like candles speckled around us in the darkness. I felt like huddling down in a sleeping bag and just watching all night.On Sunday we went to church in the morning. V. and family attend a lovely little church which always seems so happy and enthusiastic. Good refreshment.
In the afternoon, V. and the kids took me to the beach. It was another beautiful day - I cannot help but mention that Dunedin is not known for good weather two days in a row - so despite the still refreshing winds and still-freezing water we were happily paddling and removing outer layers.
While the boys made dams, V., niece and I went for a walk along the beach with Oscar, who is the most charming dog ever known, past people on horses, past surf lifesavers practising, past more and more dogs who all wanted to play...
... then back to the boys where we too mucked around on the beach with sand and water... Lovely.On Monday morning I caught up with my sister R. again and then went shopping in Dunedin town before catching my bus home. Great weekend. Much needed.
And now I am back at university, trying to get back into the swing of things. There are huge cracks in the plaster walls on our floor, but we have been assured by the VC that 'all the cracks you may come across have been seen by structural engineers and the buildings are perfectly safe'. Well, fingers crossed!
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