writing

Timeline of events 2004 Sometime:

06:30am Woke up looked up at the clock, pulled up the blankets over my head and pretended that I did not see the ungodly time it was.
07:00am   Same as above, but came to the realization that I might actually have to go to work in something other than p�j�s.
07:05am Wonder why pj�s are not suitable attire for office personnel.
07:06am Tried to justify wearing pj�s to work.
07:07am Rolled over and went back to sleep.
08:30am Took one last look at fav pj�s before shower
09:05am Making way to work in the horrific masses of concrete loving city dwellers.
09:06am Stuck going though a detour coz, some council ass thought it would be funny to make me �REALLY� late for work.
09:15am At desk thinking that anyone standing at my door would not know if I had p.j bottoms and slippers on.
09:16am Finally make appointment to see doc.
10:05am Realize that mechanic has come to pick up car, and that I have no ride to appointment.
10:06am Called bro to pick me up
10:30am Sitting in waiting room, staring at hippy receptionist with blond hair.
10:31am � 11:00am Banishing thoughts of giving receptionist mullet hairdo for Xmas. (Bad bang�z, see)
11:01am Sitting in nurses room explaining self.
11:02am Aiming for small cup.
11:03am Watching nurse place eyedropper in liquid and watching liquid fall into test.
11:04am � 11:15am Telling nurse what I do in the office for the gazillionth time. Staring blankly at nurse �lots�.
11:16am RESULTS
11:17am Staring blankly in general
11:18am Handed scan referral from doc.
11:20am MIND BLOCK (Vague recollection of bro talking) Calling friend from cel.
11:30am At work trying to get day off. Cough! Cough!
12:00pm Lunch with bofie (BLEEP!)
1:00pm On route to beat brother to tell mother.
1:05pm Handing mother test.
1:06pm Smiling at momma smiling at me.
1:10pm Making scan appointment
1:20pm � 2:15pm Drinking 1 litre of water. Talking with mother.
2:20pm � 3:00pm Bladder about to burst at scan appointment with bofie. Quick BK fix.
3:00pm � 5:30pm Back in the office �starring blankly�. Telling office girls. Quitting 2nd job.
6:00pm � 9:00pm Watching blaze on vid, eating big bag of lollies, being stared at by bofie

Doorknob

Contemporary thoughts of a doorknob consist of its general purpose by association with other items. Could a doorknob exist without the concept of purpose? It exists! Although it exists on its own, for it to be useful as far as purposes goes it cannot be used alone.   Being linked by purpose would make the initial doorknob obsolete, if its general purpose was to become a door? So what becomes apparent is that all components could exists alone, but by association they make one whole, general and expected, by association of its purpose.
Enhancing one component strengthens the purpose of its association as a whole. A lock and key enhance the doorknob, making it�s existence less questionable. Using the lock and key subsequently could make the door one with the main structure to which the door relies on.
It�s general purpose defined.

Language

Language is a beautiful medium of expression. So if you suffer from bouts of verbal suicide communication could be a problem if the person to which you are trying to communicate with, prefers verbal confirmation of the way you feel about them. (Sighs), the person needing reaffirmation that they are in your thoughts throughout the day/week/month/always.
Why does reaffirmation need to be? Why is once not good enough?
If reaffirmation is given through verbal communication on a constant basis, is it then not as genuine as when you would say it less often As from experience, repetition can be a stone in a shoe, not to mention, a tad bit tedious. Silence is golden.
I suppose that this all comes down to security, and your ability to make the other person feel at ease within a relationship. (Shrugs)

If a fish and a bird wanted to be together, where would their children live?
How well would their individual uniqueness survive being pulled in opposite directions?

Effort! How boring life would be if everything was simple and straight forward?

So many questions, no answers just life.

Guardian angel

Today I was sitting at my desk starring out the window towards �the nothing�.
I found myself thinking about my gran, her smile, her humour, her ability to say the few words that comfort, when everything seems to be going up the fuck. Picturing her face reminded me of how much she means to me, and how much I love her, and love to be in her presence. She emanates life for me, past, present and future. Her giving nature, without prejudice, sets me in awe and I find myself searching her face for an ounce of regret. I find none.

She was the last person I hugged, when my parents sent me to boarding school. I cried when she kissed me, but with the reassuring glace she gave I knew I was going to be okay.
She sent me letters that arrived when I needed them most, with memories and sayings that made everything seem right.
She was the last person I told I was pregnant with my son, and the first person I worried about telling.

I care what she thinks, I care that she hurts, I just care. She is what I shall aspire to be, her grace, intelligence, and her devotion to the people she loves.

My spiritual strength, and my guardian angel.

My daughter

The healing process begins��

Not so often do I tell people of my daughter, the daughter that I once had but no longer do.

My daughter was born in April 2000. Deemed not a viable foetus in the early stages of the 3rd trimester of my pregnancy, due to a fatal brain condition. Her father and I were given only one assurance from the many doctors that we saw and that was, that she would not last more than 24 hours after she was born. We were told that I could not carry her to full term, and a date was arranged for us to come in and have her. Complications arose before that date and I was rushed into hospital where I was induced and gave birth to her.
She was a tiny, beautiful, fully formed baby weighing just over 4lbs. She didn�t cry when she was born, but stayed in a mesmerized slumber.    For the 6 or so hours we had her this is how she stayed, until she passed away in my arms with her father beside us. She was still warm from my embrace when my grandmother took her from me and handed her to the doctors who were waiting. After that point I could not bring myself to hold her ever again, even when the doctors brought her back. I sat and watched as my grandmother pulled a scarf from her bag and wrapped her purple, lifeless body in it
I remember feeling her warmth and not wanting to feel her cold, the endless cold that could have stayed with me forever and stained my memory of her with that particular sensation, reminding me of the day where it had marked the beckoning and uncontrollable screaming of my soul.

On that day my heart was broken beyond anything I could have ever imagined. I was broken as a mother, partner, sister, daughter, a friend and as a human being.
To feel life and have it slip through your fingers, literally. Watching death right in front of your eyes, trying to block it out, when all you can do is wish it away and let someone you love more than your life itself breathe no more in this world. An uncontrollable helpless feeling when the only thing you can do is let go.

I remember the weather on the day we left the hospital, the howling fresh smelling wind, the unmistakable glimpse of colder weather to come. I remember waiting by the door of the car, and then staring up at a huge tree before taking a deep breathe, briefly closing my eyes. In that moment while looking up at that big tree I felt a change occur that I was unwilling/unable to embrace.

For three days I let friends, co-workers, and family pay their respects to her. And for the three whole days I felt nothing but empty, their condolences fell on deaf ears, their warm hugs went unnoticed to my weary cold heart.
The only legible memory I have of those three unbearable days was, leaning against the window in the car of the funeral procession on our way from the church to the crematorium, is rows of flowers. Nothing more and nothing less, just rows of beautiful flowers passing by the manicured gardens of the crematorium.

We placed her ashes in a black glass urn, with gold trim. It was then set into a burgundy crushed velvet casing with a tiny gold latch.
I have her ashes still, in my draw hidden from the world, the daughter I am still not willing to let go. Sometimes I wish healing was a process I knew had an ending, but for now I will keep them with me until I am ready/able/willing to scatter them.

Why? Why plagued me with needle sharp pains for two long years. Why was the hardest thing to come to terms with. The question Why? is normally followed by because, and that is the only explanation I have come to know �. Just Because �.

Guilt and Hate. Guilt was a huge factor in my self-hatred and for a very long time afterward a hatred of the world. A world that kept going when it had lost my beautiful daughter, my heart.
Ironic how a part of my healing was that the world indeed kept turning, and although in my time of darkness when I shielded my eyes from the world I forgot this.
In the guilt process I questioned my ability as a mother, my own expectations to bear a healthy child, to sustain life. Not being able to sustain adequate life hit me like a bus with emotions I could not control.

I tried to turn to people who ideally had been strong for me in the past, only to feel isolated, as I doubted that they could possibly feel as much as I did and that they lacked understanding. I know now that grief is grief and that it cannot be measured, just because I felt my connection was stronger to her than theirs.

Her father repulsed me to the point where I wouldn�t let him come near me. The only thing that had brought me through that near miss of relationship suicide was looking into his eyes 1 month after she had died and seeing my daughter again in the eyes he had given her. I remember now thinking back when I was in the haze of grief, too self absorbed, him just standing there, waiting, and thinking in my direction. I know now that he is a man I will love and have a connection with for the rest of my life, no matter what comes our way.

Denial. Denial came and backed me in a corner in the form of family and friends. They cared for me when I forgot to care for myself bringing me back and assuring me that everything was going to be okay in time. I felt the need to fight still for the right to have memories, to embrace death again for the daughter that I had lost, and felt I was being forced to loose again.

How? How toiled with me for 2 years. I spent most nights cursing god. How could god take her from me. How could he let this happen, when he knew she was all I ever wanted.
I have come to know that the answer for me to that question is �How could he not take her from me, she was never mine to possess�.   That as parents we never possess our children we are only their caretakers.

Scared. Scared to have a child based on a longing for the daughter I wanted to replace. To let it (death) happen again to feel the loss of any child again scared me to the point where I betrayed my partner.
The fear he didn�t understand that brought me to betray his trust in me. I lead him to believe that I too wanted another child shortly after our daughter passed away, indeed that was the last thing I ever wanted.
His expectations scared me that much, although not intentional, it was to replace the daughter he never knew.

Seeing 4 year old girls when I am around and about the city or at the park with my sons leaves me with a sensation of longing for a daughter, but not for the daughter I did not really know, and who has come and gone from my life.
If I am meant to have a daughter I will, if not, I will be content with the two boys I have been blessed with so far.
I miss her. Smiling now, I think of what could have been; smiling still I think of what her presence, although short has blessed me with. I have come to know that she was a special baby, she came into my life to give me a gift, a gift of appreciation, an aspect of my life that is still lacking, and is especially hard to grasp when thinking of her.
Her passing marked the start of a healing process for me that has spanned over 4 years now.
I have come to an understanding and accepting the real definition of �in gods hands�
Although the tears fall when I think of her sometimes, I smile when I think that she is lucky to be �in gods hands�
I hope the angels in heaven know how lucky they are to have my angel with them.

A new beginning��..

Conditioning

Went for a walk with my sister, and only by chance because we decided to catch a bus that took us to the wrong section of town. Rather WE fucked up. Her reaction to the old neighbourhood where I use to live surprised me. When we finally made it to my aunt�s house to call my bofie to pick us up, she couldn�t stop moaning about �them� and I spent most of my time in a state of �What the fuck�. I guess she is entitled to her own opinion. I only lived there for about 4 months before moving but I was told by my sister that she would never come to visit me if I ever moved back there.
As we were walking down a particular street where some local kids had a rather vicious looking dog attached to a rather flimsy bit of rope she held my son close to her and crossed the road, while shouting at the kids to keep their mutt away from them. I take it back, I�m not at all sorry that I had forgotten my celphone, but instead I wish I hadn�t forgotten my camera. I wish I had my camera to take a picture of the mortification slapped on her face as she walked across the road with my son.
It was a typical state housing area with a few properties that were owned and rented by Auckland investors.

When I first moved into that particular area there was the occasional incident.

1. One in particular that sticks in my mind and shall for a while. Our neighbours across the road had a lovers spat. Must have been a biggun coz it spilled out onto the street. I caught the last of it, where the guy came storming out of the house through the side gate slamming it behind him, his wife screaming after him (fuck this and fuck that, fucking cunt��..and to come fucking back). He was mouthing at her to get fucked and to shut her fucking mouth, until he glanced back and saw her coming after him, and then he ran. Ran like a bat outta hell actually. He kept looking back to see if she had given up and gone home. And I was quite surprised at how fast his wife could run considering she didn�t look too fit.
I rolled around on the floor laughing that morning visualising the guy across the road and his staunch walk until he saw his wife and then ran like a big girl.

2. The time when the neighbours next door must have not paid their rent. I saw the police and a dude in a suit. After the two men left, they carried their worldly possessions across the road to a relatives front lawn, where they sat on their lounge suit and had a smoke and coffee.

3. This guy who must have been tanked up on rocket fuel and/or meth and/or weeded up so bad he thought he was superman decided to turn our street into his personal drag racing strip. That was a very noisy Saturday morning. He kept shouting fuck you all, you can�t do it, while driving fast and then slamming on the brakes forcing his car to do 180�s. Someone called the cops a tad too late coz he was outta there like a bat outta hell, still screaming out his window �fuck you all�. Funny I have not seen him since. My boyfriend stood outside on our front lawn arms crossed saying �Fucking Idiot� and then just watched him go up and down the street before he disappeared.

4. And the times when my son would be playing outside on his bike in the boundaries of our fences and the kids from down the road would ask him to come and play with them. His father would say �Get in the house� and then tell the kids from up the road to �Piss off�. That was kinda hard but I was too scared to let him play with them just in case their parents were *wink* selling.

5. I got up one morning to what sounded like a rather heated conversation to find bofie arguing with another neighbour. I heard the word rocks mentioned a couple of times, picked the sleep from my eyes to notice that there were a few large pebbles in our driveway. After that I heard bofie say to the neighbour �Control your bloody kids or I�ll kick their arses myself�.

6. Someone must have been on the run or had done sumthin really bad coz one night I heard a helicopter and it was shining a huge spotlight on the entire neighbourhood.

7. Police swarming the local tinny house and cordoning off two blocks including our street because ?????

8. The crazy old lady with too many wind chimes and far too many ornaments in her lounge room window was very interesting. But when I saw her talking to her pot plants I kinda use to get scared to say hello to her, in the likely event that she maliciously pulled her spade out on ma arse for giving her flowers a wee fright when I said hello.

The first night we moved in was the hardest for me. I had my brother slept on the couch until one day he said �Fuck I�m going home you can�t cook�. I finally got over myself and use to walk around the neighbourhood to go to the corner store, and to take my son to the local park.
My mother would come over and inspect the house, step out onto the front porch shake her head and makes comments about the entire neighbourhood within a 3 mile radius, and my father never stepped out of his car when I lived there. When we went over for dinner one night to my parents house my father took me into the lounge and told me that there would always be a spare room for me at their house if I ever needed it. Funny thing was that they helped me move.

The things I don�t miss about living there is seeing children that look no older than 5 playing, and being dragged around the street by their older siblings at 10 o�clock at night while music bellows� from their house because their parents decided to invite their friends over and have a huge party. Or seeing the same kids outside the local fish n chip shop sitting in the doorway of a closed shop eating fish and chips like it was their first decent meal for the week. I use to go to their house to give their mother fruit from my aunts orchard but she was never home when I called, so I use to leave them on their doorstep, or with the kids who were usually playing on the front lawn. I use to ask them if they were okay, and where there mother was, but they kept telling me that their mother had gone to the shop and that she would be back soon. Bofie use to tell me to mind my own fucking business and not to bother with giving them anything, but we had a lot and it didn�t seem right to let them rot in the bags.

I had a chat to a good friend of mine who grew up in a situation like this. She grew up in a one-parent home where her mother use to drink every pay day without fail. Splash out on a whole lot of junk for the kids and then blow the rest on drugs.   Their father left when they were babies and that left a mother with a void and 3 kids to raise. Their house was always full of strangers when payday rolled around, and they were always ushered into one bedroom where they would try and get sleep amongst the drunken singing and loud music. Awaken the next morning to a house that resembled a tip, and then try to find something to eat amongst the smoke butts and beer bottles strewn all over the kitchen.
I know my friend beat the odds and broke the psychological circle that could have taken her to the place she despises. The life she had as a child, and one where she wishes didn�t exist. Looking at her now, the beautiful dark haired slim LAWYER who loves her job, drives a cute lil rav4, lives in a 3 bedroom town house she shares with a CUTE political analyst, and is saving for a week long holiday in bali, you would never have guessed that her life has been anything less than perfect.
I remember asking her what she thought her mother had taught her.   Her reply was, that her mother showed her the life she didn�t want for herself.

Dance Like No One Is Watching

I couldn�t stop thinking about the three woman I had seen many years ago, who woke up one Thursday and decided that they would go and dance (not so much dancing but twirling rather slowly and not very well as far as twirling goes) naked outside of Work and Income New Zealand in protest of some bloody thing. I remember asking my mother why they were dancing/twirling naked, before she quickly ushered me into the car, saying nothing. As we were driving away I saw a rather coy policeman ushering all three into a police car. That night I heard my mother inform my father of the �hippy sisters� and how stoned they were dancing outside WINZ protesting, reason still not known.

I certainly hope that they achieved what they had set out to do that day.
Reminded me of the email/spam a friend sent to me. Title of the poem "Dance Like No One Is Watching".

My Balls

I had a friend who flew in from abroad we did lunch and went on a bit of a shop. I purchased some balls from a *wink* knick knack shop in the red light district in Auckland. I actually didn�t know what they were until he told me.
I made the mistake of telling my rather gay friend, and showed the balls to him. He didn�t know of them at all, which was no surprise. He was rather intrigued as to how they could be inserted.
But for the next 2 months when we met for lunch he would ask me if I was juggling.
And then for the next couple of weeks he would ask me what I would do if the string holding them together broke. Then attempt to cover his laughing by sniggering into his mango tea in the middle of starbucks. BITCH!

George

The boy whose mother shacked up with the man from across the road. His mother and mine were neighbourly nice and we were then forced to play together.
We use to go to the corner store past my cousins house to spend all of our dosh on sugar lollies and twisties.
One incident of him is etched in my memories. The time when we were in the back yard behind the gate my father had made for us so that we could take a shortcut to school. I remember having my new white dress with orange and navy blue circle patterns/pictures on it. The only thing I remember is saying to him �No I can�t take my dress off�. I was seven and so was he. My subconscious has blocked out memories of him. Boys are so pervy.   I suspect he is in prison taking it up the a** from a big burly man named butch that has taken a fancy to him because he looks like a Georgina rather than a George.
I�ll give him that he was really nice looking.

Known

It�s knowing that in sharing that breathe that everything will be ok.
That in that breathe nothing matters.
That when you close your eyes and will it to happen that it inevitably will come about.
The ultimate peace that is shared with someone.

Bofies Family

1. Bofies uncle came over to see Michael and said that he would love to take him to Dunedin for him, as his own. Bofies jabs in the back of my arm were the only thing stopping me from getting up off the lounge suit, taking my son from that prat and kicking him the fuck outta my house.

2. Another uncle is a minister of a church and his wife left him for another man. They went to Australia together and she came back 2 years later. The minister and his newly returned wife now as a couple give relationship advise/moral support to the churchgoers who are having marital problems. I know for a fact that the minister�s wife is still seeing her boyfriend on the side. My friends uncle is the other man and lives across the road from her.

3. Minister uncle number two is always up to some �get rich quick� scheme. He told my cousin who use to work for him that his goal in life was to be a millionaire and that he was just about there. He is just about there at the expense of the individuals who support his rip-off moneymaking schemes a majority of who attend his church.

4. Bofies family want us to buy a cow for their family farm because they need one. I must fight the urge to tell his family to send his mother back to the farm solving the problem of being one cow short.

5. Bofies oldest sister wanted us to finance a car she wanted because her and her husband have bad credit. Knowing that my boyfriend has bad credit also this would have left me to fill in the guarantor papers for them. They knew this. They were ever so disappointed when I said NO.

6. I moved into my house by myself bofie moved his mother, stepfather and sister in because they couldn�t afford to pay for their rent, yet again. I lasted 4 months with them, 4 months of paying their bills and putting up with their lack of cleanliness. The longest 4 months of my life. I would rather be skinned alive before letting any of them back into my house. 1 month after I moved into this house bofies sister came over just to tell me that my spare room is bigger than her room.   I think NOT.

7. When I was pregnant with my first son bofies mother bitched to him that he didn�t financially support HIS family enough. This came after bofie had told his mother that we were giving my mother $40.00 a week as board. At the time we were staying with my parents in their batch to pay off some bills before we brought our new baby a range of stuff he would need.

8. Bofie has spent thousands of dollars paying for his mother to be able to take flights from New Zealand to Samoa and from Samoa to American Samoa to see her father. Last year her husband had to pay for her flight to see her father. He wanted reimbursement from his stepchildren for the flight he had paid for and he was ever so pissed off when at the family meeting I said NO.

9. His younger sister use to go shopping in our cupboards every Tuesday.

10. When my oldest son was sick bofies mother came over with her friend that she said was a nurse. They massaged his back with some kinda oil and told me that there was no need for him to see a doctor now that they had fixed him. I used my motherly intuition and rushed him to my local g.p as soon as they left. We were referred to the hospitals emergency unit soon after our arrival to my doctor. I know now never to underestimate my ability as a mother or trust her with the health of my children.

11. What�s yours is theirs and what�s theirs is theirs.

12. I had come back from work to find that bofies little sister had been in my draws and had taken my favourite white t-shirt and decided to wear it, without asking. I knew she had it on only as bofie and I were driving up our driveway and she was sitting on the front step reading a magazine in my tshirt.
I had also lent her my padded white winter jacket that she thought was cool enough to give to her friend to borrow and later returned it to me as a rather off eggshell coloured jacket. After my friendly and rather calm conversation with bofie to �Sort his sister out� she funnily enough has not touched or even been in the vicinity of my clothes and food doesn�t go missing from our cupboards either.

13. Bofies mother put ideas into his head that our first son might not be his because he was a light brown colour. (Wasn�t the milkman�s that�s for sure). Considering bofie is black as the ace of spades and my lily white ass isn�t I would have been surprised if he had come out anything but light brown. I do wonder sometimes what colour she was hoping my son to be, green would have be quite exciting. She let that go when I told her to pay the $1000.00 for the paternity test because I didn�t like to waste good money on her insecurity. Amazingly she shut her mouth. This is the one I hate her for the most. Funnily enough I heard her not so long ago mention that my eldest son looks like her son (bofie) just a fairer version.

14. Bofies younger brother smoke marijuana, is totally self-centred and hits his wife. It takes the youngest brother and the baby of the family to knock him down a peg or two. Literally!   I like his youngest brother he is not an ass.

15. Bofies mother caught me drinking kava (some kinda root that when mixed with water tastes like shit but has a certain��.alcoholic/speed kick in it) with him and his friends. As she walked away she was screaming while waving her hands above her head in the air. To this day that visual still makes me laugh.   I still wonder what she was saying.

16. When I first started dating bofie nuggz his, now, official, brother in-law asked that when bofie was finished with me *grunts* that he could date me. At that time he was dating bofies sister. I still don�t like that asshole and I would love the opportunity to knock a majority of his teeth out with a spade. I don�t like being alone in the same room with him, he freaks me out.

He is my soul mate, he is everything positive that I see in his family members. He is more than just his family. He is a warm giving man who strives to be all that he can be for our sons. He has moral values that extend well beyond his strict culture. When we met I noticed something about him that I now know is warmth. Warmth in his heart that emanates from his very being and is noticeable in the smile on his face. He has a desire to protect what he loves and to give all of himself or all that he can without regret.
He is surrounded by many friends because they know like me that he is a good man.
His friends ask him for advise because he sees only black and white and nothing in-between, not grey areas that clutter a person judgement.
He sees himself as not being to bright, but he has intelligence that most men never acquire in their lifetime.
He is not without flaw but these imperfections are what make me love him.
If my sons are half the man their father is they will be great and conqueror many things in their lives.
They will because they are their father�s sons.

Fantails

Since forever my grandmother has believed in a few weird things that I have shrugged off. One being that if a fantail flew into your house that it was bringing a message to the household. Just a message she would say with a smile when as she would look at us.
I know her she is the very essence of my souls greeting. She lied on that day.
I remember when I was small one incident when a fantail flew into my uncle�s house. It was a few days before Christmas day. My uncle ushered it outside but as children we knew they were uneasy about the little flying visitor. On Christmas Eve my mother�s sister passed away in a freak accident.
It had taken my family by surprise and at the funeral home I overhead my uncle say to my grandmother �we had a fantail fly into the house�.
Before my great grandmother died another family member had a fantail visitor.
Before my father�s best friend died a fantail flew into our chimney knocked its head on the heavy double glass door then died.

I was sitting eating dinner with the boys when a fantail flew in through the kitchen window darted for the huge sliding doors before flying into a kitchen window a little disorientated before finding its way out the same way it had come in. Screaming at bofie nugz to get the fucking bird outta the house, only when it had made its own way out did I realise that it was indeed a fantail.
In my freakout session panic stricken moi went to mothers to inform her of the bird. It was only when I was about to hop into the car did I tell her of the little visitor, 3 hours after my arrival.
She stood next to the car and sed �You have sent it on its way�. Nothing more nothing less just those bloody words.
8 days following "the visitor" my father died in a car accident. I hate fantails.

Time waits for no man

I wish for many things I cannot have. Yet I still wish.
As I was typing a blog entry on Valentines Day my father was evolved in a car accident that took his life.
Valentines day for me will never be the same for me again. Instead of it meaning yet another gimmick to make money for stores, now it means so much more.
Now it marks the day where I lost someone that I truly loved.

I hope he knew how much I loved him.
How much he meant to me.
How much my mother loved him.
How much my sons will miss him, and how much my sons will miss him being there as they grow up.
How much bofie nugz respected him.
How much he will be missed.
But most of all I hope he knew how much he was loved.

Life is so unjust.
I wish ��
I wasn�t selfish and that it wasn�t his time
That he could have just stayed at home that day
I had not growled him the last time we met.
Time stands still when grief embraces you.

In life he taught me many things, the most important was that in life there is always something to learn the there is always an opportunity to lean and to better yourself. That in life we are responsible for our own destiny, life is what you make of it.

The very last time we saw him my eldest son would not go near him. He arrived home with his grandmother stormed passed my father and would not acknowledge him. After informing my father�s aunt of this she said��.. �Kua taemai te wa� (The time had come) �Kua taemai te atua� (God had come for him). The atua had already come and that somehow children know.
As tears rolled down my face that is the only thing that I remember clearly from the first 5 days after my fathers passing.

I could picture him saying to me �Get along with it, time waits for no man�.
Time waits for no man not even for great men like my father.
Still wishing��

Today.......

I am coming to the realization that a whisper heard, a word said is just meant to be.
That in hearing something or experiencing something is meant to be. Fate.
Everything, even a slight whisper heard has a purpose unbeknown to the recipient.
Strength, strength in self and faith in others.

The Little Something

I cherish the little things most people forget. I am grateful for the many things I have.

I wanted one thing, and one thing only of my fathers. Something I could describe in detail and had seen many times when dad and I would do the annual father and daughter bonding.
I don�t know why I wanted it, I just did. I don�t even know how to use it.
I knew it was in the car in the boot, stashed in the toolbox with the others, as it has been for years.
I had reservations about it because it was in the car with my father when he passed away, but I knew he wouldn�t have minded me having it. I remember calling my mother when she was away to remind her of it and to search for it amongst the things the police had returned to my mother from the car. Not knowing what it looked like I gave her a detailed description of it right down to the split at the base of the handle and the tiny holes in the grip, only then could she pick it out. I knew then that it was meant to be mine.
It ment so much to me although my sisters and my brother wondered why.
As my mother handed it to me she smiled, she glanced down at it and then smiled at me. As a teen I had struggled to realize that my mother ever understood/got me. I know now that she knows��.me.

Memento

While sitting on my veranda in a numb haze, a single feather floated down from somewhere. There was not a bird in sight. Mesmerized I sat and watched as it slowly swayed in the breeze before landing on the ground within grabbing distance.
Thinking of the feather, it�s purpose, how important it must have been once.
I left it there, what would I need a feather for? Why should I have a memento to remind me of the days I was sad. I left it on the ground for the wind to pick up.

Something Is Missing

I once heard the term �Do something you love�. But what if doing nothing is what you love. Nothing is never really nothing, nothing for me is just a little slower than the things I have to fill my day. I love being a bastard, and don�t think I could get bored doing/being a bastard. Being an asshole would be quite tiresome.   I do that at work now, being a bastard and on the rare occasion apply the asshole complex in a subtle yet offensive manner. Maybe the corporate world that I have come to know brings this about, I don�t love my job I love the security it brings my children. The basic hunter-gatherer aspect of life.

I can�t shake this feeling since the impromptu lunch with a medium, when she told me that I need to be a teacher for small children in Te Reo. Te Reo has never really got me and vice versa. The basic concept of it ��yeah but those values I have already begun to install in my children. Could I extend myself beyond the attention, care, love, and concern of my children?

Contentment is the feeling, I don�t want to be content with things. I aspire to bring about change, change that for me is growth rather than the negative take that most people associate with change.

My father once said to me �So what are you going to be? Just a mother?� This after I had quit university to give birth to my son and wasn�t planning on going back. I put that down to his expectation of me and the disappointment he felt at the sudden realisation that being a mother is maybe all I ever wanted.
I remember thinking at the time, if a mother is all I am ever going to be in this thing we call a lifetime, so fucking what, I am going to be good at anything I do. I am too nosey to be complacent.
I will never forget the subtle smile on his face when I got my diploma then the law firm job and when I told him that I had acquired this job and all while taking care of my children. I know for certain he was proud of what I had accomplished he had told me many times.

Something for me has to change. I need something else. Something is missing.

Mine Part One

Oh how bored I have become. I had a convo with a mate about habits/tendencies, crap like that, seeing as I have NONE, well none that I think are a major issues it was a very one sided conversation. Although I did point out to buddy ole pal that when she is drunk she has a tendency to poke people, not in a nice way, but rather in a �Ima stab you I know it hurts, what u gonna do about it?�. A malicious poke, then twist.

I have a specific pillow
Background: My mother gave it to me many years ago and her mother before her. It is firm (god knows how people can stand sloppy/unfirm anything), stuffed with foam chips and covered in a thick silky white material. Embroidery green pattern doted over it.

1. My boyfriend was sick and snot was running down his throat casing him to cough profusely, needing elevation he took my pillow. Knowing it was the only firm pillow in the house I let him have it, taking another from the blanket box. Lying awake in the early hours of the morning thinking of nothing but my dear sweet pillow and how to get it back, looking at bofie I slowly maneuvered it from under his head and gently replaced it with the one I was lying on. Changing the pillowslip before sinking into my pillow I fell into a deep sleep. I awoke the next morning to the coughing almost choking of �the sick one�.

2. My son has slept in my bed also and has accidentally slept on my pillow, I have done the same. Waited until he was fast asleep, then taken it back replacing it with anything or nothing at all

3. It was a general family event and we traveled 6 hours to my aunts one Christmas. 20 minutes from arriving home I realized I had left my pillow. When we arrived home I begged my aunt to courier it back that same day. It arrived the next day. Now I know why she is my favorite aunt.

I have a specific blanket
Background: It is a queen size winter weight, white duvet. Acquired when my aunt was going to Australia. It is soft, fluffy, and heavy, a winter duvet inner. It is the only thing I can stand around my neck when I sleep.

1. In summer when it is too hot. I can�t get a good night sleep without it, so I sleep with it covering just my arms and beneath my neck. Sweating like hell underneath it slipping into a deep sleep never the less.

2. I only take it to one drycleaners because I trust that they will not fuck it up.

3. I do not let anyone borrow it. ANYONE!

Get Effed

One morning I woke up and decided it was too nice of a day to spend it driving to work. So walk I did. On my way to the local high school where I was co-coordinator for social activities of 6th form students I was dreaming away enjoying the fresh morning air. I noticed a guy walking toward me with his head down. As he came within hearing distance I said a rather chirpy �Good Morning�. He looked up from concentrating on his steps and replied �Get Fucked�. My reply �No, you get fucked� (Alternative response to HAVE A NICE DAY!).
Sitting at work at my desk I laughed as I thought �Shit maybe he woke up and found himself naked lying next to a guy or something�. I know now not to say hello to strange looking men who concentrate on their steps. Haven�t seen him since.

Mo Toku Tamaiti
(For My Child)

I live therefore I am
I am, therefore I live
I am you, therefore I continue to be

You are of two maunga
Strings on a guitar in sync, playing your own tune
Sweet music to my ears
Invisible koru patterns, beneath a reed
Caress of the water lily against the water
The dawning of a new day
The sweet smell of morn after rain
The beginning of a smile broadening on a face
The tingly feeling of your gaze, opening my heart
Warmth of a fire in comforts arms
Beating of hearts
Laughter, touch, beyond self
Yellow, orange, green
Dizzy twirling of clouds
Depth of surface
Folds in silk
Toku aroha, toku ao, toku tamaiti
(My love, my world, my child )

Connection To The Unknown

Heartbreaking ......... speaking of a loss you know not of.
To have tears for a person you knew not of.
Though the wounds of sorrow are still deep.
We weep within ourselves in the certainty that our time will come.
Why do we feel a connection with an unknown face that has lived a life we have only dreamed, who through life�s eyes has conquers a thousand cities.

Air

When you love, and you think that love is lost, your heart slowly begins to mend itself, not with the memory of the sweet air that you shared with the person but with the memory of the false hope that you will remain in that sweet air.
Slowly you begin to breathe

The Only Man Who Still Makes My Legs Weak

My heart swoons yet again. My feeling toward him I must keep to myself. How could I let him know and for what purpose. There will always be a part of me that wants him even if only for one night. I can think of only one reason to be with him and hundreds of reasons not to.
One thing remains etched in my mind of him. I was walking home with my mother from shopping in town. Chatting while we were holding a few shopping bags full of god knows what, he pulled over and popped his head out the window and asked if we wanted a ride home. My mother declined the nice gesture sighting we were okay. That is when my feelings for him changed and from that point on my heart would swoon whenever I saw him.
If I were to be at all honest with myself I would reluctantly confess that when I met the father of my children I started dating him because of the semiaridity between them both.
I couldn�t stop looking at him this weekend, I feel like such a retard. Throughout my relationships over the years my feelings have remained the same toward him. From seeing him this weekend I feel all schoolgirl giddy again, awkward and stupid. *growls*
I don�t know what he would think if I sprung my feelings on him. I cringe at the very thought. I don�t know if he has ever felt the same and I wouldn�t know what to do if my feelings were returned.
I�m ashamed of the way I feel about him the taboo aspect applies in this situation but barely. He is my half uncles adopted son. Even typing that is hard for me.
He has never really been a friend but has always been �� just there.
The only man that has made me feel awkward and schoolgirl giddy EVER!
Maybe next lifetime. *sighs*
Some things are better left unsaid.

My Best Friend Lulu Bell

My first memories of her
Me, standing on the front lawn hanging over our fence because I was grounded and wasn�t allowed to go anywhere, anywhere meaning out of our yard, trying my darndist to subtly defy the rules governed and cruelly enforced by �the olds� a.k.a �the parents� That day I remember her peddling slowly past before stopping, ushered by my ingenious and unnoticeable waves, unnoticeable from our lounge room windows were my parents sat conjuring up yet more punishments no doubt. I managed to coax her into peddling to the shop for me to purchase a bugs bunny lolly flinger thingy handing over two whole bucks.

She was the little girl in primary school who always wore beautifully sewn dresses with matching ribbed tights lovingly made by her mother, electing to break her mother heart by teaming these beautiful dresses up with her favourite grey and black sandshoes with Velcro straps. The same girl that loved sports and who along with me was bloody good at athletics.

The youngest of her family the only girl having 6 older brothers.
Now how to describe her upon meeting her and her family back when we were 7��..
SPOILT, demanding, and unbelievably disrespectful to her mother but the apple of her father eye.

I can still remember the first time I went to her house. Making my way up their long driveway opening the back gate, dodging their pet rat (which I am told was an ACTUAL dog), taking in the views of their swimming pool (which could fit 40 people quite comfortably while her olds were on holiday in the south island) before walking along the path toward the humongous veranda to their back door.
After being in her room that day and seeing the rest of the house I remember thinking to myself. WTF? Only because she had the biggest room in the house whilst her parents were crammed into the adjacent room and her brothers were stuffed like sardines into two rooms (3 in a room). Just her and that sad excuse for a dog (carnation) in that huge fucking room.
Ahh carnation, such an angelic name for a dog obviously possessed by the devil. Loyalty I will give the wannbe dog-looking rat that. He was indeed loyal to my friend right up to his last breath.

I remember seeing her around after she skived off with my two whole bucks but never really having anything to do with her until we both joined the same volleyball team in primary school.
From that point on we have been inseparable.
Even though we were split into separate houses in intermediate we still managed to hang out. She would spend most weekends at my place because her mother and father would be working, and oh the shit we got up to.
In intermediate we had our first, somewhat fight. That was my �dare me to stage� she dared me to throw her in the river and I did. The problem with that was that she didn�t really want to take a swim in the polluted creek. For three days she didn�t talk to me and then we were kewl after that.

After intermediate my parents dropped a bomb that I would not be attending the local high school and that they were shipping me off to boarding school.
I don�t know how we managed to do it but we coaxed my father into having a quick chat to her father about the benefits of boarding school. I know she begged her father to send her to boarding school and I know she cried lots in front of him. She told me years after she was suspended from school that her father didn�t want to send her away and had even tried to buy her a car and a computer if she changed her mind. I don�t know how or what or even why but I remember her father filling in the enrolment forms just in time for our first day.

When I need her the most she appears at my doorstep. When I worry about her she just turns up and vice versa. When I have a dire need to know how she is I pack the kids in the car and drive to her house or if I think about her during the day I pick up the phone and call her.
Through all our good times and bad we have been there for each other.
We have laughed, cried and been terrified together. No guys have ever come between us maybe because we have such different taste in men or maybe because we are just very good friends.

She has been right beside me when I have given birth. And there to laugh and point a finger at me when the pregnancy tests have been positive.
On meeting the father of my children she said �So��Have you got a job?� and now when she sees him the first thing she sez to him is �So��Have you got a real job yet?�.

Why/How She Acquired The Nickname LULU BELL

From my first impression of her, years later I told her that her mother looked like Lulu from her hey day.   Her mother was a beautifully slender woman a timeless classic beauty but a few cents short of an entire dollar. She once told me that her mother reminded her of a sound effect in cartoons when the cartoon character would slow down possibly even stop savouring the moment before the bell sound would go off and a light bulb would appear above their head. Her mother mos definitely had that effect down to a T. Over the years the name stuck and has been shortened from lulu bell to lulu and now finally just plain and simple Lu. Others don�t know why we call her Lu but we have done so for too many years.

I can�t believe that our friendship has lasted 18 years and counting. 18 years and so many changes.
Even though at times we have been so far apart we still manage to keep in touch. When we meet we spend most of our time reminiscing, laughing and catching up. I value her friendship so much and as a result of the trust I have in her, she is the only person I would whole heartily trust with raising my children should I die. She was the fist and only person I considered to be my son�s godmother.
Before I went into surgery I phoned her to tell her that if I didn�t make it she was to call my lawyer who would start the proceedings of filing for full custody of my sons.   Her response? �� Shut the fuck up�.
When I came to in the recovery room outside surgery she was waiting for me and greeted me by screwing up her face and poking out her tongue at me saying simply �C�mon lets go�.

We cried together in the hospital after her father had a heart attack. The concern and worry I know she felt was not only her own, only because over the years her father has become a father to me too.
I feel the utmost empathy toward her on the many occasions when she has needed me. She springs back so fast from setbacks and that is what I admire about her the most.
For the time I have known her she has always had a �Don�t give a fuck attitude� and most times she honestly doesn�t��.for that small percentage left and behind that tough exterior she is kind and giving.
She once told me after surviving being swept out into a rip in Mount Maunganui �What doesn�t kill you and/or nay on drown your ass has to make you stronger or at least mildly aware not to fucking do it again�.

We have seen and done so much together I look forward to the time when we are old, grey, and senile talking shit about our daughter in-laws over coffees laced with vodka in our very tranquil yet never boring rest home.

I look forward to that time when I can teach my own grandchildren and hers the great lesson in life
�What doesn�t kill you or nay on drown your ass has to make you stronger and/or at least mildly aware not to fucking do it again�.

A (farking) men!



Primary School/Intermediate
1. Wagging school to swim at the river all day.
2. Ditching badminton practice to swim at the river with our boy friends.
3. Watching the boy (Jackson a.k.a �THE PISSPOT�) from up the road drink from the hose so much that he would piss his pants in front of us
4. Ride our bikes and stash them behind a hedge, quickly pick as much green fruit before skiving off to an old man screaming his tits off.
5. Smoking on our way to school.
6. Hiding in the manicured gardens in town, smoking.
7. Rolling our first joint together at a mates place whose brother was totally gangster just because we wanted to prove that we could do it.
8. Roll tealeaves and burn it because we were told that burnt tea leaves smell like weed.
9. Lie to our parents take a couple of trays of eggs and egg peoples houses at night.
10. Mix beer and cordial sachet because we didn�t like the taste of beer.
11. Concoct sherry milkshake from my mothers $60 a bottle secret stash of sherry.

Boarding School
1. I remember there was a lot of booze and drugs.
2. We climbed into the matron�s office window without asking to borrow her set of keys so we could cut our own.
3. Getting drunk on our 4th form camp from the booze we won on the horizontal bungee
4. Getting tiddly on our 4th form camp while out to support a local school jubilee. Tasting far too many bottles of beer in the homebrew competition room.
5. At 9pm when we suppose to be in bed we would go for a walk to town just because
6. Unscrew the brackets to the windows so we could smoke on the roof where no one could see us.
7. Being on Detention having to vacuum the entire chapel with a standard vacuum head then again with a nozzle piece 2 cm long because we decided on Sunday not to attend mass instead deciding to go shopping in town.
8. Taking a quit smoking class because we were snapped smoking on the school fields by the head girl.
9. Relapse �� having to attend the quit smoking class again because we were caught smoking in the caretakers toilet by him, when he was busting for a piss.
10. Being on vegetable duty for an entire month peeling bag after bag after bag of potatoes, the punishment dished out because while making toast for the entire school (another punishment for an unrelated matter) we played on the intercom system while the matron was having a smoke at 5 in the morning, waking the entire school up.
11. Scrubbing the huge marble status with toothbrushes because we got caught fighting with each other and swearing. Scrubbing that took us 3 fucking hours.
12. Wasting 6 containers of other student�s body powder trying to make smoke/mist because we were sure that in the dense thickness of the powdery smoke we could then see the rays of the sensor connected to the alarm system, put there to stop students from taking walks at night.
13. Being kicked out of sex education class because we argued with the teacher who said that life is not all about sex. The teacher was a nun.
14. Lying in our common room watching Aaliyah�s music video �Four Page Letter� over and over again drooling over the muscular, black, bald guy with one silver eye.
15. Dressing up as Freddy Crugar before sneaking into the junior common room to scare the shit outta them while they were in the middle of watching nightmare on elm street.
16. Locking the matron out of the phone room pretending to be deaf ignoring her screams and bellowing rants mixed in with idle threats.
17. Forging our parents signatures to apply for weekend leave and then going out clubbing when we were 16.
18. Crawl under the school hall building at 10 pm at night so we could bury our full vodka bottles.

University/Work
1. Drive for hours in her car because we were bored, not knowing where we were going, driving none the less
2. On a whim visit our friends on the east coast missing class
3. Getting stuck in a ditch in Papamoa because I was SURE it was a shortcut.
4. Prancing around in Omanu checking out the lifeguards wearing their speedos later joining them at the club.
5. Driving to Raglan then to Mahia to check out the surfies and the surf.
6. Me ringing into her work pretending to be a doctor and excusing her from work because she was too hung over.
7. Being stopped by the police because of speeding not getting a speeding ticket because her excuse was �I�m trying to get my friend to the hospital she is pregnant�. We were shit scared when the police officer said that is fine I will escort you to the hospital myself, sirens blaring light flashing all the way to the hospital. I was pregnant but wasn�t due for a couple of weeks.

MY WRITING