Motherfuckers, every one.

Damn teeth

Tonight I found out I need about $3500 worth of dentistry.
Multiple fillings and something like three root canals.

I did, however, surprise the dentist. I’ve managed to get to this point completely pain free.
It’s just more proof that I am a complete bad ass.

Soon to be a very very poor bad ass.
Anyone want to buy my stuff?

A tweet I regret.

Tweet I regret. A lot.

I was sitting at my desk at work, eleven stories up, when I felt the earthquake.
It went on for a long time. So long that I sent a message out on twitter and saw both before and after my tweet, similar Wellington based messages. After it stopped I thought about it and decided that I really rather liked these little reminders that we are small and insignificant. And then I sent the message that starts this entry.

What I didn’t know then was that the earthquake I’d felt in Wellington was actually centred over three hundred kilometres away in Christchurch.

NZPA Photo of Quake Damage

6 months ago Christchurch was rocked an earthquake. It hit in the early hours of the morning and there were no deaths or injuries.
It seems that was only a practice run.
This earthquake hit just before 1pm on a weekday. People were at work, at home, out at lunch. Exchange students were in classes and tourists were in the Cathedral. I was in my office, wondering why my screen was shaking.

Everyone I know spent that afternoon glued to the television.
Parliament rose early.
There was a profound sense of shock. We saw the shock we felt etched on the dust covered faces of the people in Christchurch. I watched the unedited footage and saw someone rescued from the top of a flattened building, I saw people loaded in to the back of SUVs as the city ran out of ambulances, I saw broken buildings and broken people.

We clung to social networking sites and I have never been more glad to have twitter. Never more glad to be able to help in my small small way.
I watched as messages headed into the ether, asking if this person or at person was okay, people sending messages that they were okay, offers of assistance. I retweeted what I could, getting messages to a wider audience, but terrified of sending out misinformation.

I have no family in Christchurch. There was no one I was frantically trying to get hold of. I am loath to admit how much the earthquake has affected me because, in the most basic sense, it has not.

But I live in Wellington. We have been warned how overdue for “the big one” our city is. There is the guilt that it should have been us and not Christchurch. There is the guilt that we are relieved it was not us.

I held Craig close that night. We decided on meeting places in Wellington and vowed to get a survival kit together. I thanked whatever gods there are out there that we were safe.

At the time of writing the death toll in Christchurch is 145. There are still more missing. Our garden city has made news across the world and international urban search and rescue teams have come to our aid.

I have donated. I have worn black. I will observe two minutes of silence.
I will offer all I can and do my job diligently and to the best of my ability. Christchurch needs the rest of New Zealand to keep the country running.
They are a little busy right now.

If you can please spare a dollar or two to help
http://www.redcross.org.nz

Anywhere but here …

In 199 days Craig and I will be back here:

Waikiki
Waikiki, Hawaii – August 2008

Almost exactly. We’re staying at the same hotel. For 7 nights.

On a cold, grey, Wellington morning, heading into the final stretch of rehearsals* I need to remember that there are bright spots on the horizon.

* this is when it feels hardest, when you are sick of your lines, sick of your costume, sick of the hours of rehearsal, but don’t yet have the adrenaline of performances

Because this is turning out to be a no-good, very-bad week …

Kat's 25th

Here’s a photo of Kat‘s adorable puppy gnawing on my thumb.

p.s. That’s Craig’s manlymanly arm at the bottom of the shot. I am not that hirsute.
p.p.s. The puppy is a chocolate labradoodle (labraDOODLE!) called Bailey and is pretty much the cutest thing ever.
p.p.p.s. With me? puppies are like babies. I distrust them generally, like a few, am definitely not ready for one of my own.
p.p.p.p.s. Sir C and I will probably eventually get a cat rather than a dog anyway. You can’t parallel that one to babies.

I’m terribly sick of Funerals.

My darling sisters and I read the following poem:

Dirge without Music by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, — but the best is lost.

The answers quick & keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

Only a day late …

From the Archives

Southwark, Late 2007

Sunshine

Sun in Southwark
The Blue Fin Building

&

Rain

Rain in Southwark
The Millennium Bridge & the Tate Modern.

p.s. The Blue Fin Building can be seen in this photo. Looking like a little addition to the Tate Modern’s glass top floor, it protrudes either side of the Chimney.

p.p.s. I might have to stop this segment. It makes me sad. Wistful, wishful. If only I still lived in Southwark.

As if the post-show blues weren’t enough …

Photobucket

This is the latest straw piled on top of me.

The package includes possible moves to prevent the families of skilled migrants working in Britain and restricting skilled migrants to taking jobs only in occupations with shortages.

Smith signalled that raising the qualification levels for tier 1 – the most highly skilled migrant route – could cut the numbers from 26,000 to only 14,000 a year. The new criteria will require a master’s rather than a bachelor’s degree and a job offer with a minimum salary of £20,000 rather than £17,000.

Craig and I will be effected by these changes. Wholly and completely. They will make it near on impossible for us to get the visas we’ve been dreaming about.
I have a bachlor’s degree, not a master’s, and Craig would be applying as the family of a migrant. We would be ineligible.

We are ineligible. I cannot think of this as something which might not happen. I can’t deal with the hope.

Perhaps we can apply now, before the changes get rolled through, and just wait …

Either way we have to reassess what we are going to do with the next five years of our lives, where we will live, what we will fill our days with, how I will cope being in New Zealand when everyday already feels like torture, like a waste.

And personally, while I can stand objectively and say that I understand the changes that are being brought forward in light of the economic climate, I think the reason they are tightening the points-based system has a lot to do with the European Union

The points-based immigration system does not cover the movement of workers from within the European Union to Britain but official immigration figures to be published on Tuesday are expected to confirm that the number of Poles and other eastern Europeans coming to work continues to fall, especially since the decline of the pound against the Euro.

They can’t touch the European migrants and so have piled it all upon the rest of us.

Britain seems to forget that Australia and New Zealand are part of their commonwealth.