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Noni Did NZ: Friendly Faces

Published on July 15, 2014July 28, 2014 by NoniLeave a comment

If you haven’t heard about me harp on about it yet, I went to Wellington (this one, not this one) last month. It’s taken all that time for me to be able to take a step back and start writing about it without dissolving into fits of giggles and nostalgia. That and I’m a little bit lazy. I’m compensating for the delay with sheer quantity. Over the next few entries, I’ll be writing about all the fantastic things I got up to in an attempt to give you a glimpse of Wellington that doesn’t involve that dude from The Voice. For the rest of the posts, take a look here.

*****

Travelling on your own is a funny thing. It can be incredibly liberating, wandering the streets of a place that isn’t home, knowing that there’s no expectations as to what you’re going to do or how late you will be out. You’ve got all the room in the world to make your own way without worrying about how it might affect your reputation back home. It leaves plenty of room in your head for soaking up experiences and meditation on what you want from life. Basically, it can be pretty damn rad.

Conversely, it can be incredibly lonely, full of nights spent in and wandering between unfamiliar bars, stuck in a hotel room or a backpackers with a lottery of transients who know about as much about your destination as you do. Before you know it, you’re wishing for faraway friends, or at the very least someone with enough local knowledge that you could find a decent band to wash away your homesickness. Your days can be spent scouring the internet and whatever street press you can find for scant details on what might be happening outside of the usual tourist haunts, but even with the most accurate information, you can never tell if your experiments will fly or pull a spectacular Icarus routine.

On my trip to Wellington, I was lucky enough to have the perfect combination of solo ambling and time with new friends and acquaintances. From those I spent whole days with, to those who humoured me with fleeting chats in the bizarre space that is Boogie Wonderland, I was surrounded by ridiculously awesome people I was completely and utterly blessed to meet.

This post is dedicated to just some of the magnificent human beings who made Wellington Week so absolutely marvellous.

10430381_1443470145902105_5618008059503002784_n — *Anna and Petyr being total babes. (Source: What We Do In The Shadows Facebook page)*

Anna

If it wasn’t for Anna, none of this ridiculousness would have occurred in the first place. Sure, I was really damn excited to see What We Do In The Shadows to begin with, but the marketing campaign that she devised and drove was more than the icing on the cake; it was fucking ART.

When Anna first got in touch, I was still sitting in shock at my computer, having won the TradeMe auction for an WWDITS artwork only a few hours earlier. There were a few emails back and forth over the following days, flitting across a few different threads: the joy I’d derived from interacting with the vampires through social media and the auction, the possibility of a personal handover of the artwork from Jemaine and Taika, or maybe I could come to the premiere, but how outrageous is that?

Before I knew it, I’d booked my leave and flights and was just about falling over myself with glee. It seems that Anna is not only a marketing and PR wizard, she is also remarkably good at dealing with insane Australians who are high on post-purchase euphoria.

Over the following weeks, Anna sent me information about the weather (“four layers” was the prescription in terms of wardrobe), made suggestions for accommodation and somehow wrangled me in for a brief TV stint in a story about the campaign. (Did I mention it was fucking ART?)

The initiation of my trip alone would have been enough, but I also had the pleasure of hanging out with her after the premiere and then again on the following Friday at the launch of her gentleman-friend’s exhibition in a venue that was so full of beautiful, stylish and awesome people it was unbelievable. (Daif is also incredibly rad.) Then we went and had Japanese and that was also brilliant. (Although I did discover that sake and I are probably never going to be friends.) After that, we walked through the city for a little while and she and Daif pointed out various locations from the film, adding even more sparkle to the places around me.

From start to finish, Anna was an incredible guide and phenomenal pal. I couldn’t have asked for a better introduction to the New Zealand capital, and its community of insanely clever people, than the one she provided. I still feel so incredibly honoured to have met her.

Note: Somehow, despite all the joy and fun I had hanging with Anna over the course of the week, I forgot to get a photo with her. This is because I am an idiot.

Jane

When it all suddenly became clear that I was actually going across the Tasman on this mad jaunt, Anna immediately offered to help me out with accommodation by way of sorting a couch surfing arrangement. Jane was the first name she threw at me, and she went on to be pretty much my guardian angel for the whole week.

My first connection with Jane was via Twitter. From there it was only a matter of days until I pulled up in a cab at her front door, fresh from the airport (and the cab driver charged an extra $100 on the fare by accident – OH HOW WE LAUGHED).

We got on like a house on fire, with hot topics including Dog on a Log (which I had somehow missed), the bizarre world that is Tinder, and the sharing of tunes from either side of the ditch (I offered up Citizen Kay and Brass Knuckle Brass Band, Fun Machine and Mikelangelo and the Black Sea Gentlemen; she introduced me to Beastwars and The Phoenix Foundation). She gave me a room, a bed, fed me, gave me transport advice, accompanied me to the premiere, kept me company, helped me do my hair, taught me things and convinced me to do things that I might have otherwise passed up for nerves. (I can now say I my lips have touched something that was also used by Michael Palin. Pretty fuckin’ cool.)

Jane didn’t just treat me like a friend. When I was hanging out with her and her daughter and their cat and her housemate, I felt like I was part of a family. The degree of hospitality shown to me took my breath away, and I still feel like I haven’t said thank you enough. (Thank you, thank you, thank you.)

I hope that I when I have guests in my house, I’m half as good a hostess as Jane was to me. She truly is one of the kindest hearts I know, and I’ll happily call her family any day of the week.

*Not a good face shot. Not a good fire shot. Honestly, who lets me use cameras?!*

Benjamin

Okay, so I didn’t exactly get to know this guy beyond throwing money at him and a quick chat, but he certainly made an impression. I spent the better part of an hour watching him entertain those ambling along Cuba St on a Friday night, before I bailed him up to thank him for the pleasure.

We got chatting: I told him how the smell of fire twirling brought back happy memories of university friends, and complimented him on his incredible live looping guitar skills; he told me that he was planning on heading to Melbourne to meet up with his girlfriend and how that seemed to be a growing trend among the young artists of Wellington.

He showed me the way to The Rogue and Vagabond, a craft beer bar a few blocks off Cuba St with a bulldog on the logo and a mad gypsy band playing in the corner. It was very much my scene.

I would have stayed and harassed him a little longer, but the bar was pretty full and he was keen to do some writing, so I took down the address of his Facebook page and told him to get in touch when he got to Australia.

Sure, I knew Benjamin for an hour and a half at most, but he reminded me of friends back home, was remarkable company and brilliant entertainment, and he introduced me to a venue I am definitely going to have to revisit when I go back to Wellington, whenever that may be. It’s not much and it didn’t last long, but you’ve got to celebrate the little things sometimes.

10376856_10152510687798656_260002323514781734_n — *Thanks to the windy hills near Wellington Airport and a magnificent tumble along the way, I’m as red as a bloody beetroot.*

Taika

I didn’t get to talk to this guy that long either, but man, what a champ.

Taika and I probably talked for a grand total of about 5 minutes across four or five occasions, but in each brief instance he had a big smile and was just a totally awesome dude. Even when I was babbling nonsense from excitement, a touch of post-hill-walking exhaustion and a good serve of shaken-brain-from-nearly-face-planting-onto-concrete-on-said-walk-to-the-airport, and he was keen to get back to his car and actually do stuff with his Sunday, he was kind and accommodating. I couldn’t have asked for a better end to my trip than this: receiving an artwork from someone whose work I really bloody admire, who was also really nice about me being a complete numpty.

Seriously, I would give my right arm to share a pint and a chinwag with this guy. He’s just a freakin’ top bloke.

To be perfectly honest, I’ve really just put Taika here as a figurehead for all the beautiful people I had the pleasure of meeting through the What We Do In The Shadows premiere and in the hours (and days) afterwards, mostly because he’s the only one I got a photo with. Some other names that need dropping belong to Jemaine, Chris, Jackie, Theresa, Rhys, Vanessa, Mark, Daif, Nikkie and so many other brilliant, creative, kind, clever people who took a couple of minutes or more to chat to me, dance with me, be reasonably impressed by my trip or just cover the fact that they thought I was a bit of a twat. Whether it was the briefest of pleasantries, dancing around in an attempt to circumvent blocked doorways, dissections of Inter-Tasman media environments over wine, or barely decipherable conversations on disco-themed dance floors: every moment is treasured, and is going to stay with me until I shuffle off this mortal coil. (Even if you’ve already forgotten me. It’s okay: I’m particularly unmemorable.)

Of course, it is worth mentioning that not all the friends I made were of the human variety… But that’s a story for another time.

I really was completely and utterly blessed to have met these delightful folks on my trip, and I just want to remind the aforementioned awesome people (and those I’ve neglected to mention): there’s an open invitation for drinks at Smith’s Alternative or The Phoenix should you ever be in Canberra. (You showed me your town. I’d love to show you mine!)

Part of the reason why this post has taken so long is because I want to do these marvellous folks, and all the happy feelings they gave me, justice. Hopefully I’ve come relatively close to doing that.

tl;dr: Thanks dudes. You’re the best. Let’s go get a drink some time. x N

Noni Did NZ: When in Wellington, Take the Bus.

Published on June 30, 2014February 16, 2016 by NoniLeave a comment

This time last week, I was marvelling at the fact that I had just come off the most incredible week of my life. Tonight, I’m struck by the bizarre thought that all that magnificent stuff happened a little under a fortnight ago. I’m pretty sure that it’s going to take another week for it to sink in that it’s all flitted off into the past, so I’m dedicating the next few posts to the week I spent in Wellington earlier in the month.

Each post will look at a different aspect of my trip: the people, the places, the premiere and the picture that made it all happen. And you know, some other shit too. And it will probably be out of order. Sorry about that.

If you’re looking for the full list of entries on this topic, you can find them here.

The first entry is about something that is incredibly important to me: public transport.

Shut up. This is serious stuff. Pay attention.

*****

Not being able to drive can be an absolute pain in the arse. It can leave you in quite a spot of bother, especially if you’re in a place you don’t know and travelling alone. Unless you want to be shelling out regularly for cabs, you have to work out the buses and trains and timetables pretty quickly, and that’s if you’re lucky enough to be living in or visiting a place with any to begin with.

Luckily for me, Wellington’s all over it: their public transport system freakin’ rocks.

First and most importantly, like most major cities, they have their transport timetables integrated into Google Maps. It seems like a stupid thing to get excited about, but when you’re as navigationally challenged as I am, not to mention terrible at remembering what time things come and go, this is an absolute lifesaver. It means that even if you’re at a bus stop with no timetable, or are struggling to find a bus stop at all, you’re not stuck. Sure, you get the same thing in Sydney, Melbourne and Canberra, but it’s the little things that can make all the difference. Without this little bit of beautiful technology, my trip would have been a lot more difficult.

Look! Getting places is EASY. (Of course, I used it on my mobile, not the icky new desktop version. Yuck.) — *Look! Getting places is EASY.*
*(Of course, I used it on my mobile, not the icky new desktop version. Yuck.)*

The other thing that impressed me was how punctual all the buses were. Now, I’m not one to complain about services running late, as long as they don’t run early. After all, you can always catch a bus if it turns up after you do, but you’re buggered if it’s already left. I don’t think I encountered a single bus that arrived before its scheduled time or any that ran later than about 5 minutes behind schedule. As much as I love Canberra’s ACTION buses, they could learn a bit from the Go Wellington bus system.

At a number of the major stops, there were even automatically updating signs that told you how far away the next bus was, probably powered by some kind of black magic, or GPS or something, kind of like the ones at the Civic Bus Interchange except there were a lot more of them and they were all over the place.

And there were the trolley buses. I found them incredibly bewildering (“Wait, that bus has a power connector… thing?”), then comically endearing (“HA. THAT BUS THINKS IT’S A TRAM!”). Apparently they’re on the way out, so I feel incredibly privileged to have been blessed by their presence, even if I didn’t take the chance to ride one.

*Seriously, Trolley Bus. Pick a side already.*

I only had a short trip around the bays to get from where I was staying to the city, but it can be pretty easy to mess up these things when you’re a tourist. Thankfully, all of the drivers were remarkably polite and incredibly helpful with directions and tips. I didn’t miss my stop once, and I didn’t have a single unpleasant trip. I was beginning to think that someone had sent out a memo saying, “There is a plump Australian woman coming from Canberra who is a bit of a bus aficionado; be sure to give her the best public transport experience she has ever had,” because it really was pretty damn good.

That said, like all public transport systems, there were areas that were less than brilliant. There were no services to the city from where I was staying on the weekend, but there was a stop about 30 minutes’ walk down the road (but holy crap, what a beautiful seaside walk it was)… The signage to find stops often wasn’t that great, and there were some really weird streets that were just for buses that were also deceptively dangerous for pedestrians. That said, it’s still a pretty damn good service, as long as you remember to look both ways, you bloody idiot.

*Me: “Seriously? That’s the only photo I got? Why am I even allowed to have a camera?”*

But it’s not all about buses. The Wellington Cable Car initially seems to be just a gimmicky novelty for the tourists, kind of like Sydney’s Monorail (RIP), but it turns out that it’s also another cog in the public transport machine, if you’ll forgive the heavy-handed metaphor. Sure, there were a couple of families on board who were obviously out for the day to see the sights, but there were also a significant number of travellers who looked kind of jaded and were busy reading newspapers, most of whom got off at the stop for Victoria University. Whoever they are, I thank them, because they’re probably the reason why my little tourist jaunt to the top of the mountain only cost me $4! Nice.

So that’s the practical aspect of all the public transport options I sampled.

Then you get into the more ridiculous stuff that only weirdos like me care about.

https://twitter.com/NoniDoll/statuses/478653018011729920

Seriously, look! Look at the seats! They’re really pretty! Ferns! Fresh! Green! Lovely.

(Especially when you compare them with the seats of Canberra’s ACTION buses, which look like somebody murdered a Ken Done painting.)

ARGH. MY EYES. (Thanks to Ali for the photos.) — **ARGH. MY EYES.**
*(Thanks to Ali for the photos.)*

Basically, getting around Wellington was really bloody rad, from the buses to the cable car to the fact that there were effectively taxi spruikers when I got in at Wellington Airport. (Seriously, that was kind of weird.) Everyone was friendly and didn’t want to charge me through the nose and got me to where I was going with a minimum of fuss.

As a non-driver, Wellington is easily one of the most non-driver friendly places I’ve visited, at least in terms of the routes that I took. Sure, next time I head over, I’ll have to do a little more exploring outside the inner city area, but for now I just want to say well done, Wellington.

A Poem For My Pen

Published on June 3, 2014 by NoniLeave a comment

Hottest 10(0) Picks for 2013

Published on January 13, 2014February 16, 2016 by NoniLeave a comment

Democracy is a pretty awesome thing. Sure, sometimes it doesn’t go the way you want it to (big shout out to Prime Minister Tony Abbott, and the people of Geelong), but the idea that you get to have a say in something that’s a bit of a big deal is a pretty cool concept.

And when you’re voting for songs rather than politicians, what’s not to love?

Yes, it’s time to get your votes in for the triple j Hottest 100, where the best songs of 2013 battle it out to see if they can possibly, just maybe beat Lorde1 for the coveted number 1 spot.

Most years, I get to January and find myself having completely forgotten who I loved in months previous, but this year I got myself a system – loved a song? Buy it and whack it in iTunes. When the time comes to vote, arrange by year and voila! You’ve got yourself a shortlist, with an indicator of how many plays each one got, should you need to whittle down the numbers.

Funnily enough, this year was a breeze. I picked a shortlist from iTunes before running through the list of suggestions on the voting page to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, and here’s the run of ten that I finally settled on for my vote, in no particular order.

(No pressure, but I reckon I’ve got pretty damn good taste.)

Note: Those marked with (DIY) aren’t in the suggestion list provided by triple j, so you’ll have to add them yourself through the… well, “Add Your Own” feature.

*****

Citizen Kay – Raise A Glass (feat. BKBB)

Yes, this choice is full of Canberra pride. The nation’s capital welcomed me back with open arms in 2013, and I repaid it by getting stuck deep into its local music scene (more on that in future posts). This is undoubtedly one of the biggest songs of the year from the ACT, with Citizen Kay and The Brass Knuckle Brass Band (aka “feat. BKBB”) getting a whole lot of airplay on the national youth broadcaster, and it’s been a real delight to hear it coming out of headphones, radios, and cars over the last few months.

Plus, they’re both killer live acts. I’m still pissed that I missed seeing this in the flesh.

Dan Sultan – Under Your Skin

Ahhhhh… Dan Sultan. If there is an album I am absolutely falling over myself for in 2014, it’s the one that this track will be a part of. The growling, howling vocal in the opening bars immediately talks to my lady bits and the video clip… Excuse me. I’m going to need a moment to compose myself.

Fun Machine – Naked Body (DIY)

The first time I saw Fun Machine was in early 2012, when they were supporting Mikelangelo and the Tin Star, and to be honest… I didn’t get it. Sure, I could see why so many people had told me how awesome they were, but something just didn’t click for me. Even though they were deemed by many to be one of the acts to see in Canberra, I didn’t go in for a second dose for a long time.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to give it another go, I was just always busy/sick/broke/lacking motivation/just too damn pretentious to go. Then this song dropped and it was like a light switch flipped in my head. I suddenly *got it*. And I loved it.

So I started to plan to go to a Fun Machine gig. Somehow, the universe had caught wind of my initial doubt and inevitable change of heart and decided that I deserved to be punished for my foolishness. Hence, I endured months of not being able to get to see Fun Machine. Stupidly heavy rain storms, seizures, clashes with family gatherings… Until I finally got to a couple of their gigs in December.

And now I have a massive crush on all the members of Fun Machine. And we all lived glitter-ly ever after.

(If you were expecting my blurb about Fun Machine to make sense, you do not understand Fun Machine and you should come with me to one of their gigs so that you can understand.)

The Preatures – Is This How You Feel?

The jangly guitars, the sultry male and female vocals, the Instagrasm-style vintage-esque video clip: there is nothing about this song that isn’t amazing. You will undoubtedly have chunks of this tune floating around in your brain for weeks after you’ve hit play on this video, and you will enjoy every minute of it.

Saskwatch – Hands

The day that Saskwatch played Transit Bar, I was a wreck. I’d had a seizure earlier in the week, I was tired and emotionally vulnerable, and in the end I couldn’t even bring myself to stand up to watch their set, choosing instead to sit and listen quietly from a nearby couch, my view blocked by all the happy punters.

As it turned out, I didn’t need to see anything. They were so good that I was entranced and delighted by just being in the same room as them and hearing them be bright and happy and funky and awesome. It took me a long time to pick between this and “I Get Lonely“, but this one seemed to have got a little bit more airplay, so I figured my vote might be better spent with it. Hopefully my cynicism pays off and it gets a spot!

Vance Joy – Riptide

For me, Vance Joy’s ‘Riptide’ is this year’s ‘Somebody That I Used To Know’. Working in commercial radio, it has been in my ears almost every day, but it’s such a great tune that I can’t bring myself to hate it. In fact, I still love it immensely, right from those beautifully chirpy ukulele chords and confessions of ridiculous phobias in the opening verse. It’s just sweetness, pure and simple.

Fun fact #1: When I first heard it on the radio, I thought it was some jaunty side-project from Alex Barnett from Sparkadia. (Come on, they sound a little bit similar…) I confused many cab-drivers with this assertion.

Fun fact #2: His real name isn’t really Vance. This still infuriates me, because people called Vance are awesome, like my great-grandfather and my 8-year-old cousin.

Twin Beasts – Badlove (DIY)

I can’t remember how I first came across The Toot Toot Toots. Maybe it was when I saw them at The Phoenix back in 2012. (Or was it earlier than that?) Maybe it was when I first heard ‘Fool’s Gold‘, off their debut album which is a gorram Spaghetti Western Rock Opera.

However, the last twelve months have meant a transformation for this delightful band, with a complete name and sound change. I’m not disappointed though – their new direction as Twin Beasts is absolutely kick-ass. Plus, the video features a guy who reminds me of Peter Capaldi flailing around in one of the best pieces of interpretative dance/acting I’ve seen in ages. Hit me right in the guts, man. Right in the guts.

The Basics – So Hard For You

Sure, 2012 was the Year of Gotye, but 2014 could well be the year The Basics, my favourite of Wally DeBacker’s projects, really come into their own. This song is absolutely killer, and now that they can count an ARIA-and-Grammy Winner among their members, their fantastic brand of retro-pop-rock might just get the attention it deserves, especially with the swell the genre is currently riding with the likes of The Preatures and Jeremy Neale.

With a new album apparently in the works, keeping an eye on The Basics should be one of your major hobbies in 2014.

Brendan Maclean – Stupid

I don’t know where to start when it comes to Brendan Maclean, because he is just a brilliant human being, even before you take into account how amazing he is at music. His songs are not only catchy and brilliantly entertaining, they’re also surprisingly raw and revealing.

And seriously, look at that face. How could you deny those gorgeous puppy-dog eyes a vote? Do the right thing, and give a tune that is unashamedly about unrequited gay love a spot in your short-list.

The Growl – Douse The Lamps (DIY)

And now we come to the song that gave me more lady-tingles than any other. Seriously, that bass line. You can feel the rhythm weaving its way into your hips. Arch your back to the gravelly-gorgeousness of Cam Avery’s voice. This song just screams “SEX”. It’s primal and gritty and just makes me want to do something my mother wouldn’t approve of.

And then you strip it all back to two guys in an alley, with nothing but a double bass and that gorgeous voice, and it still gets into your blood stream and sets your insides on fire.

Sure, Dan Sultan is sexy, but this song is just something else, to the point where I am terrified of seeing The Growl live… I’m just not sure I could control myself…

*****

What were your songs of 2013? Leave a comment below and we can create our own little “Warmest 100”.

Endnote:

1 Yes, I realise Lorde isn’t a 100% sure bet. Daft Punk are also major contenders. But even though I have come to be really sick and tired of ‘Royals’ due to hearing it all the time at work, it’s still not as infuriating as hearing ‘Get Lucky’ every two hours.

Also, it’d be nice to have a solo female artist win the title for the first time ever, who also happened to be the first New Zealand artist to win… and the youngest winner ever.

But mostly because I want to see a young woman at the very beginning of her career kick the arse of a whole bunch of dudes, especially some who’ve been in the game for almost two decades.

Open Letter #15 – To George Proestos

Published on January 1, 2014July 16, 2014 by NoniLeave a comment

This letter was written and sent to George Proestos (left) via Facebook message a few days ago.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have a spare $18 lying around to get it sent through to George’s inbox (turns out he’s quite a popular young man), so it’s probably languishing unnoticed in cyberspace. Either way, I wanted to get this little message through, so I figured this would be the best way to do it.

I’ve left a link to this post in the comment section for his video on Facebook, all in the name of an open conversation.

*****

Hi George,

I’m writing to you in regards to a video you posted on Facebook yesterday, titled “How to fuck up a street performance”.

Click through to see the post in question. It will open in a new window.

As a creator of videos, I’m sure you find it tough when someone takes a dump on something you’ve taken the time to plan and make and post online. What you did to Gordo (the street drummer whose kit you tackled) was just like that – it was, to use the technical term, a “dick move”.

You know what would have been way cooler? If instead of ruining everyone’s fun by stopping someone else being creative, you’d added something to it.
I confess, I stalked your Facebook page a bit, and found a mention that you rap. That’s great! But this means that you effectively missed a massive opportunity to practice and show off what you can do in a public area, in front of a sizable audience. Why didn’t you choose to freestyle over the rhythm? Or maybe you could have used it as a base for some new rhymes? That would have been AWESOME!

Here’s an example of the magic that can happen when artists spontaneously collaborate:

Would you like to know what happened to the lady in that video afterwards? (It was pretty damn great…)

Basically, rather than ruining somebody’s day, you could have made it way better. Instead of fucking up a street performance, you could have created something beautiful.

As artists (for the record, I write a bit from time to time), we need to work together with other artists to grow and get better at what we do, not knock each other down (metaphorically or physically).

Maybe you should be the bigger man and reach out to Gordo with an apology, and perhaps something amazing could come of this unfortunate encounter – something that benefits both of you, and gives the rest of the world something to smile about as well.

I hope you feel what I’m saying. Let’s work together to make the world more awesome.

Kind regards and best wishes,

– Noni

New Year, New Page

Published on December 31, 2013May 30, 2014 by Noni2 Comments

Here I am, holding a new year in the palm of my hand. Sort of.

I’m little bit superstitious about the New Year, in my own way. I feel like the way you bring it in can have an effect on the way the next 12 months will fall (I brought in 2013 by going to the pub in Dubbo and having a woeful time, before coming home and feeling much better; 2013 started in a less than desirable state and warmed up when I came “home” to Canberra). I almost always make a little New Year’s Resolution or two, even if I don’t tell anyone or think that I’ll follow through. I never, ever host a party at my own residence (my housemate is holding one outside right now, but I’m not brave enough to break out and say hello). I’ve never kissed anyone at the stroke of midnight, and I feel like that is actually a good omen, which probably marks me as being terrified of commitment, but that’s okay. It’s not like I intend to really commit to my resolutions either, so at least I’m honest about it.

And every year, I get myself a diary. It has to be A5 in size, and be day-to-a-page, otherwise it’ll never work. I spend a good hour or so filling in important dates, birthdays and anniversaries, promising that I will keep up with them and send cards for each occasion. I always fill in the ominous “BACK TO WORK” entry, which this year is a little bit sooner than I’d like. I put all my contact details in the front, taking great pride in the fact that the address I enter is no longer that of my parents, and then I put it in my bag so that I have it when I go back to work.

This is about as organised as I ever get, but I do take a special kind of delight in it. Even though planning comes as naturally to me as flying does to a hippopotamus, I enjoy the idea of making the first mark on a blank slate. The paper feels fresh and still has that lovely clean smell of new stationery, and there’s no errors made, either in the lines or in my life past that first page. It’s invigorating.

I bought this year’s diary incredibly early, probably in October, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was as early as June. From the beginning of 2013, I was keen for it to end, and having next year’s diary made a brighter future almost tangible. It was an electrifying prospect.

And here we are, just hours from 2014’s birth. Am I excited? Absolutely! I’m still not sure where I’ll be bringing it in, but that’s okay – I’m still unsure of what I want 2014 to bring, except that I want it to be delightful and exciting, full of self-set challenges that will reap rewards I’ve longed for over the last few years. I have plans (as much as I ever have them) and I am going to be bold and brave and try harder to do stuff rather than just consume it. I’m ready. Bring it on.

On the other hand, I know it could all fall to pieces. That doesn’t matter though – 2014 is going to be the Year of Trying. At least, that’s the aim.

Hopefully, when it’s all over and done, my diary will be a testament I did exactly that.

Written Replies – The First Results of my Letter Writing Experiments

Published on August 26, 2013June 11, 2014 by NoniLeave a comment

When I started my (so far significantly lacking) attempt at Blog Every Day in August, I wrote about my love of letter writing. Over this last weekend, I’ve been seeing the full effect of my postal pastime, with results that have been both surprising and heart-warming.

I spent the weekend back home, spending time with family for my Poppy’s 80th birthday bash. I saw a whole stack of relatives, some of whom I haven’t seen in months.

Amongst the throng were a number of young cousins, to whom I have sent letters or postcards over the last few months. As I went around the room, I asked each of them if they had received the mail I had sent. To my surprise, my question often drew blank and confused looks: “No, I didn’t get a postcard?”

I was confused myself. “Maybe the postie hasn’t brought it yet?” I asked, even though I’d had confirmation from their mums and dads that their postal surprises had arrived. Then again, these kids ranged in age from three to ten, so I wasn’t about to hold a grudge.

But it did make me wonder: do kids not place any value on letters anymore? More importantly, was I as forgetful about the written correspondence from relatives when I was a child?

That second thought left me kind of confused. I can vividly remember receiving letters and birthday cards in the post from grandparents, and postcards from friends and relatives who had gone off globetrotting. I recall being incredibly excited about receiving letters in envelopes covered in pictures my Grandma had meticulously cut out of the various magazines she’d bought. I can even remember Mum telling me how grateful I should be, because Grandma’s arthritis made that crafty task incredibly difficult, so it really demonstrated just how much she loved my sister and I whenever she did so.

But did I write back? Did I at least make a phone call to thank the sender for their caring correspondence? Well, that I can’t remember. I wish I did – it would make me feel a lot better, but something tells me I didn’t. I was probably like my cousins are now: a bit forgetful.

What did surprise me was the number of people who confirmed that they are going to write back to me: three. I wasn’t expecting any! Instead, I got a confirmation from my cousin Gina and her mum that she had been working hard on a reply. Later on, when I was wandering around Sydney while waiting for a bus, I got a call from my mate Chris, who told me he was also working on writing back to me, as soon as he got a break from his insane schedule. While I was on the bus back to Canberra, I got a call from Tom, another friend, who promised me a typewritten letter.

I was so chuffed. So far, I’ve only had a response from my Aunt Joyanne and a letter from my Dad, who writes semi-regularly. It’s been nice to hear from them, but they’re from an era when letter-writing was more common; to hear from a bunch of Gen Y folks (and younger!) that they would have something to post to me in the coming weeks was incredibly thrilling, encouraging and heart-warming. I can’t wait to see them when the postie comes!

Potentially Problematic Opinion Month: Australia Should Withdraw From the UN Refugee Convention

Published on August 25, 2013May 30, 2014 by NoniLeave a comment

That’s it. I’ve had it up to here with this nonsense. The race to the bottom has got to stop somewhere and it’s about time both parties spelled out exactly what that means.

The ultimate way to “stop the boats” is to withdraw Australia’s support for the UN Convention for the Rights of the Refugee.

Yes, the idea makes me sick. But really, it’s pretty much the only move that either party can make that can’t be beaten.

At this point, we’re already looking at a pair of parties whose policies on this issue have made me literally retch and cry. (Well, their policies on a lot of issues have pissed me off, but I can’t help feeling that the ones that deal with vulnerable people fleeing persecution are the the ones that make me the most disgusted.) I’m so furious at both of them that I have reached the point where I have refused to vote for either of them.

Both Labor and the Coalition seem to be always trying to one-up each other in terms of scare tactics, seemingly to see who can score the most votes from the southern-cross-tattooed, wife-beater-and-flag-wearing, racist-bumper-sticker-toting dickhead constituency.

So if you have the humane treatment of asylum seekers as an issue that could influence your vote, I’ve got some bad news – these are your options:

A government who will send people to a country that we already accept asylum seekers from, robbing them of the right to ever come to Australia, even if they already have family here. This government has already been found guilty by the United Nations of 150 breaches of the Refugee Convention over the treatment of a number of asylum seekers and the use of indefinite detention since the reinstatement of off-shore processing, with five more cases pending.
Or you can vote for a potential government that will not only maintain the status quo, but build on it, reinstating Temporary Protection Visas, which only allow certified refugees three years of residency in Australia, after which they have to reapply and be reassessed. This type of visa also rules out the possibility of family reunion, and has been accused of being the cause of a spike of women and children getting on boats to Australia to join male relatives, many of whom died in the SIEV X disaster. They are also suggesting a Work For The Dole-type scheme, which sounds good to the average punter, but if you ask anyone who has actually been on government payments, you’ll discover that these sorts of programs actually reduce the time that could be used to search for work, or to volunteer as part of the community.

Two “leaders”.
No vision. No compassion. No solutions.

Both parties have said they are trying to stop people smugglers by taking away their product, namely permanent residency in Australia, but really they are just trying to pander to poorly informed voters with action that looks like it’s doing something, without having to address the actual problem, which is that there is an increase of people fleeing persecution. Indonesia doesn’t want them, Malaysia doesn’t want them… Where else are they supposed to go? Perhaps to a country that is safe, can offer them support and has signed the UN Convention for the Rights of the Refugee? (Hint: That would be us.)

The fact that we have signed the Convention is the reason why they are coming here, but if we are so keen to breach it, why are we even on board any more?

It seems I’m not the first to ask this question. Kevin Rudd has already indicated he would like to “update” the Convention, saying it no longer addresses the traffic flow of asylum seekers. Tony Abbott has said that he supports the notion of changing the Convention, but experts say that changes to the 1951 Convention, which came about after the Second World War and the exposure of the full effects of the Holocaust, are unlikely.

So what are we waiting for? Well, Australia recently won a seat on the UN Security Council, so pulling out of one of the biggest UN Conventions would probably be a bad look for us right now, especially if the time comes that Australia has to shake a finger at other nations for breaching their human rights obligations.

But really, we don’t need to jump to end point that I have suggested. There is a far better option, but one that neither political party seems to have the balls to float to the electorate.

Human rights campaigner and QC, Julian Burnside has proposed an alternative solution: process asylum seekers in Indonesia using Australia resources, to reduce the waiting time and in turn eliminate the incentive to seek out people smugglers.

I entirely agree with this suggestion because it not only allows us to reduce the burden on our Indonesian neighbours, it also offers a range of opportunities for Australians. Consider this: Australian students studying social sciences like psychology, social work, law and other humanities could go to assist the work in Indonesia, and in return for a set period of work, receive a discount on their HECS/HELP debt. It also gives them priceless professional experience that will serve them throughout their careers, as well as bringing back cultural knowledge that they can share with family and friends, which would slowly spread through the community, making it easier to integrate asylum seekers and refugees into the community.

Julian Burnside also suggests that refugees could be required to live for a period of time in regional and rural areas, working locally and boosting populations in towns that are struggling to survive. This sounds like a brilliant idea to me, especially as it will expose Australians who otherwise might not have had previous interactions with other cultures to new experiences and perspectives.

So we might not need to pull out of the Refugee Convention just yet, but one thing is certain: our political leaders need to shift the focus of the discussion from simply stopping the boats to fixing the broader problem. It’s time to stop freaking out about the symptoms and treat the cause, and in turn, fulfil our obligations not only as a nation, but as human beings.

*****

If you’re looking for a little bit more info on what the difference is between refugees and asylum seekers and roughly how many we take a year, this video is a good place to start. It was produced by the ABC’s Hungry Beast in 2009, so the stats are a bit out of date, but the most important part of the message is pretty clear: for asylum seekers, there is no queue. This is something that is being conveniently left out of the debate by both sides of politics.

The other thing the video notes is that emotions tend to run high on this issue. As you can tell, I am no exception.

Potentially Problematic Opinions Month: I’m Fat. That’s Okay.

Published on August 18, 2013February 16, 2016 by Noni3 Comments

Don’t mind me. I’m just being fat and fabulous.

I am a fat woman. I have no qualms saying that this is who I am. While I’m not necessarily proud of it, I know it and I don’t need reminding. More importantly, despite the good intentions of many who do so, I don’t need to be chastised for it.

I have tried plenty of diets in an attempt to shed weight, and some have been fantastic in the short term, but more often than not they leave me feeling sluggish, bloated, agitated, hungry and generally awful to be around. The weight-loss shakes might initially taste okay, but my tastebuds always end up catching up with them, revealing their true, artificial nature, no matter how much I’m told to cover it with servings of extra fruit, soy milk, extra ice or by using a blender. (Yes, apparently using a blender makes a difference to taste. No, that doesn’t make sense to me either.) The eating plan might be full of nutrients, but it quickly becomes difficult to stick to when you’re eating something starkly less appetising than the delicious, home-cooked meal the rest of your family are eating. The exercise plan hurts, and believe it or not, I have little to no tolerance for things that hurt, especially when the pain extends for days or weeks afterwards.

I am fat. I have been for a very long time, and despite the holier-than-thou health-sermons people continue to throw at me (or at themselves in my presence, which is just as demoralising), I would rather accept it and enjoy my life in my current form than rob myself of simple pleasures in an attempt to change it.

And according to researchers at Monash University, the University of Canberra and the University of New England, that is a perfectly good response.

A recent study from the aforementioned scholarly institutions on the effects of the “Fatosphere”, a group of blogs about “fat acceptance” and what it means to be plus-sized, seems to indicate that acceptance of one’s shape and size actually results in individuals making better, more healthy lifestyle decisions. Despite arguments from some critics that these sorts of blogs, and the support groups that surround them, promote obesity and unhealthy lifestyles, the study indicates that this new culture is actually reducing dangerous behaviours like crash dieting, cycles of starvation and binge eating, and laxative abuse.

From a personal standpoint, I completely understand where they’re coming from. I’ve seen it in my own life.

In the ten months that I was at home with my family, I wasn’t going out very much, and the only people I was spending time with were folks to whom I was already very close. I didn’t have to worry about being judged for what I looked like, and was freshly armed with a collection of delightful (I would even go so far as to say life-changing, in their own way) plus-size dresses, so I wasn’t concerned about my body at all. Nobody around me was making remarks about their own weight, because we were all comfortable within ourselves. It was just cool all round. When I weighed myself in the morning (well, afternoon) before my shower, it was more out of curiosity than a need to see how much my weight had fluctuated. I was eating better (thanks to being fed good food by my family) and was eating less overall (because I was sleeping more, I wasn’t emotionally eating and had little to no junk food on hand).

Slowly, I started making changes to the way I was living. Unlike the bracketed elements above, these were choices I took entirely off my own back because I wanted to. They weren’t about losing weight; they weren’t about the way I looked… Well, they were actually about my wondering if I would ever be able to be a companion to The Doctor if he ever turned up on my doorstep. (There’s a lot of running involved, okay?) These decisions weren’t based on any kind of external pressure, and they weren’t for any other reason than because I thought they might be fun.

I started walking a few kilometres almost every day, churning through podcast after podcast. Once I week, I walked down to the nearby park and did a few rotations on the different equipment there. I even tried the Zombies, Run! app… (But that was an abysmal failure that left me unable to walk straight for almost two weeks, so I decided maybe I wasn’t ready for that yet.)

As the study linked above suggests, these healthy choices weren’t attached to changing the way I looked. They were about doing stuff I wanted to do. I made that decision not because I felt I had an obligation to do so, but because it just appealed to me. In fact, I’d even say that because there was no obligation, it actually made the choice more appealing.

In the ten months that I was at home, I lost 13kg. It’s not hard to do the maths.

Fast forward to my current situation: I’m working in the industry I love and writing commercials that make me really proud, but I’m also hanging around a lot more people who I’m still getting to know. Unlike back home, a lot of the people around me are very health conscious, which is really great for them.

What’s not so good for me is the way that their vocalness on the subject feels almost pervasive. Every day, there’s a comment about what’s good and what’s bad food. As a result, I am once again becoming increasingly conscious of my body and the way I look. The fact that I have so many brilliant dresses means I have a sort of armour, but the talk of carbs and protein and blood type diets is still confronting. It makes me concerned that because they’re judging themselves, I am also being judged for what’s on my plate or how much blubber is on my frame. It makes me anxious, and that makes me reach for the chocolate bar(s), despite my best efforts to nibble on carrots and apples and other greenery through the day.

That said, it’s not only the anxiety that makes me eat junk as a response; there’s also a significant degree of satisfaction to be had in erecting (and consuming) a great big middle (Kit-Kat) finger to the expectations of others. Being surrounded by negative opinions of certain beloved foods makes the defiant consumption of those things even more tempting: “Screw you! I’m having a whole bag of Doritos to myself and none of you kale-chompers are gonna stop me!”

I’ve become reluctant to go out and exercise because there are considerably more joggers and cyclists doing the rounds, and I inevitably end up making comparisons between them and myself. I walk to and from work most days, but that only really works because the stretch that I walk is pretty much deserted. My awareness levels in terms what I look like have shot through the roof.

And in the last month, I’ve gained 3 kilograms.

I’m more than willing to grant that this attitude could well be me trying to shirk off responsibility. I almost certainly need to address my weight in order to improve my health, but the fact remains that I am more responsible about my health when I don’t feel like I’m being coerced into it.

Putting all that aside, there is still one other issue that I want to make perfectly clear: the only person’s health you need to be concerned about is your own. My fat doesn’t have any effect on anyone but me, and therefore whether I want your advice on diet or exercise is up to me.

And to be perfectly frank, I don’t want it. You can keep that Potentially Problematic Opinion all to yourself.

*****

Potentially Problematic Opinions Month is a thing that runs all the way through August, and was initiated by the incredible Alexandra Neill of Adventures in TV-Land.

This week, Lizzy has written about how Sansa Stark is amazing, and there are more to come!

I was going to try and keep up with a post each week (nobody mention how many BEDA posts I’ve missed – this was meant to be for Sunday 11th but only went up on the 18th!), but I’m obviously way behind. There may be a late explosion of PPO’s though, just so you know. I’ll definitely have one next week. x

The End of Cursive Handwriting

Published on August 12, 2013May 30, 2014 by NoniLeave a comment

Yesterday, I read an article that left me feeling pretty grim. It proclaimed that cursive script was well on the way to dying out, with only five American states maintaining the teaching of cursive writing as part of their curriculum, with most turning to increased typing skill instead.

As a lover of the medium of handwritten letters, I was horrified. So much personality can be portrayed in the curls and swishes of an individual’s hand, to the point where there is a (pseudoscientific) field built around it. Typing simply doesn’t have the same effect, pumping out letters without any kind of variety or way to distinguish the author. Sure, it’s quick, easy and necessary in the modern digital age, but there’s something a lot more satisfying about a swirling, handwritten note than a sterile email message.
One critic, who supported the death of cursive script (or “running writing”, as most of us called it in Grade 3), argued that it simply isn’t used enough to warrant the continued teaching of it to students, saying that most handwriting is done in the printing style, without the flourishes and embellishments of its more stylish counterpart. As I look at my notes for this blog and the letters and postcards I’ve written over the last few days, I can see that this argument is right, to a certain extent: I regularly switch back and forth between the two styles, depending on how quickly I’m writing (cursive if I’m in a real rush) or if I want to be clear (printing, or a mixture of the two).

While neither style is particularly prominent, I am incredibly grateful that I learned both when I was at school. Not only because I can use them to write in my day-to-day life and in my profession (there is a lot of taking notes involved in client meetings), but because it means that I can decipher the handwriting of some of my more… artistic friends and colleagues a lot better. It makes it easier to maintain a train of thought as I blast a sentence from pen to paper, the constant flow of letters facilitating my concentration a lot better than the regular starting and stopping of printing. I can pen a letter or note that looks more fluid and creative, and I get satisfaction from the fact that I have put a bit of extra time and effort into it to make it that little more appealing to the eye.

Add to all of that the suggestion that cursive handwriting may also have cognitive benefits, increasing connections between the left and right hemispheres of the brain, and improving development in areas that are relevant to things like memory retention, language and general thinking processes. Anecdotal evidence even points to it improving concentration for those with learning difficulties. Other sources indicate that the use of cursive leads to less forgeable signatures, and increasing chances of career success (apparently some businesses place a high value on good penmanship – it gives an impression that you can work quickly and effectively, while also understanding the importance of keeping up appearances).

Judging from the articles I continued to stumble across on the New York Times website (where this is apparently a very hot topic), there is a significant mixture of opinions on whether or not cursive is on the way out, with a 50/50 split on whether it should be taught in schools, but with three out of the four articles arguing that it is still an important skill to have, both in terms of reading and writing the script.

From all these opinions, I can’t help but find myself at the conclusion that cursive still has a place in our lives. Certainly, typing is faster and more relevant in the current era, and the use of the basic printing style in handwriting is cleaner and clearer in most cases, but neither of them really offers the same amount of room for personal expression as cursive. The flourishes and the cleanliness of the lines and the flow of the letters: it’s as close as you can get to flying across the surface of a page. It can be magical, it can be swift, and it can be beautiful, and even though we may not all possess the ability to be great painters or architects or writers, through the freedom allowed to us through the development of our own personal cursive style, we have the opportunity to leave our own unique mark on the page of our choosing.

*****

Post Script: Since writing this post, I’ve discovered that American cursive is about a bajillion times more complicated than Australian cursive… Like, to the point where it’s too much. So yeah, maybe the U.S. should let go of their incredibly fancy old script and move towards the Australian model? I don’t know. Just a thought!