random/weird pic of tattoo- with a vw in the background.

You know how you have 5 senses?

Well my it was my ears that got the first impression. buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. I thought I was at the dentist. I peered around the surly receptionist (who wore black....everything) and saw the noise- this maori guy with what looked like a homemade gun playing light sabers with this guys arm.

Then the lady came over. She was just a nice middle-aged woman who looked, well- normal. My friend Beth came with me- she had her's done a couple of weeks ago and becuase she's a med student I trusted the hygiene and general practice of this middle aged woman called Pip.

Anyway, I embarrased myself/and Beth, by producing 2 pieces of paper with my design in millions of sizes and fonts...to be exactly sure of course.

So she did this fake impression on me and it was all ok, until I decided it was to thick- so I made her do it again.
In normal situations the response to- "Sorry, I should have told you before" would result in "No worries!". But instead I got a short "Yes you should have". riiight. Sort of reasurring though- this woman who is in control and not too polite.

So I sat down and boy the adrenaline was pumping- it was surging through me- I had the goofiest grin on my face.

Ps- the scene- it was:

 I couldn't decide to look or not. It was this little gun thing with a needle pumping at a millions miles an hour at me. Then it all went black and I woke up on a fluffy cloud with the letter box number 9.

NOT!

People describe the pain as a cat's claw, or a serious sunburn. I call it one word- "searing". I confess im a wuss- I don't remember breathing at all.

No pain no gain. But when she said "Only 10 mins to go" I whimpered, audiably.

There was a guy next to me getting his arm thingy extended and I tried to make conversation with him as I was getting settled. Now I know why he just stared at me. Its hard to talk when you can't breathe.

Anway, I did it. wow. And lurve it.

Afterwards Beth and I went to Esquires, drank to see the new yr in and took pics.

This is her's- the butterfly and mine. aww. 

Fineto!!!

The last day of 2009. The last day of the last yr I'm a student.

I'm a visual person.

If someone tells me where to stick it. I can actually see it happening.

Sometimes this visualness is great- like planning a stage set, or an outfit. Sometimes its horrific- as above.

I'm also a forgetful person.

Actually, lets get honest- I have select forgetfullness.

Like my Dads hearing. Poor mum- she gets the best of both worlds.

Anyway- the point is, I have this cycle with God- I thrash around blindly, crash into others, break valuable things, then hit a wall. and in the stunned haze- pray to God. calm down, recieve some wisdom and then copy and paste my last manuvere.

This is because I am forgetful. I hate it. I forget about God till something happens to make me remember. Usually its a painful experience. They say pride comes before a fall.

Im going to go through a painful experience once and for all tomorrow.

I threw out the suggestion that I would get it- and most of the people (other than those with them already) say no because its forever. It's permanant.

But thats the point.

 עַכשָׁיו

So thats it- a tattoo.

I really am hoping that its the correct translation- but I have researched it in dictionary's (I actually went to a libary). It is the direct Hebrew translation of the word........... "Now".

3 reasons:

1) God is here now. Right here. No matter where I am, what I'm thinking or doing. God is here- its a visual reminder, short of tapping me on the shoulder and making me turn around to see the sunset around me. I could simply put an alarm on my phone to remind me to pray- but thats nerdy.

2) Be content- live in the "Now". I am guilty of living in the past and planning for the future. Be, instead of Do.

3) Because, basically I want to. This is my last hurrah. Next yr Im a teacher- like I'll even be cool enough to even think about a tattoo. This is to remember the good ole college days too. Also my friend Beth is going away to Melbourne for an intensive 3 months and this is to support her also, to give her the gift of branding myself because she has one too (that sounds like mum would say in the next sentance---"But if Beth threw herself of a bridge..would you too?"- I'll ignore that. 

Hmm so yeah. Its like the Verb of Now.

This time tomorrow I'll have it. Goodbye 2009, year of the tattoo. Hello 2010 yr of the....?

So the last month has hosted loads of change for me.

I graduated.

At Avondale College- its not just a boring 2 hour service-  its a whole weekend shabang.

The friday night was the coolest- only because I was part of the 'stomp' fest that the graduands marched in to.

This is me doing mah thiing.

For the most part I was resembly happy about it all. I was the staunch one that told the other hankie's to clean it up and get over it.

Until the official morning of graduation. I woke up- with one of my friends in the the room (she had travelled over from NZ for it) and burst into tears.

It hit me- I was actually leaving. Leaving these hot people:

But still I had done it.

 4 yrs. Practicums, music reciatals, exhabitions, festival of faiths. all done.

I was sad about it all- minus the red tape/finance dept. I was sooo glad to rid myself of them.

Or so I thought. I came back to nz all bright eyed and bushy tailed. Only to get slapped by NZQA- the international version of Avondale's finance dept. They gave me a whopping $930 fee to get my teachers registration. Aaaand they had shocking on hold music- only to be rivalled by their attidude.

I must admit- I had good training from my 4yrs at Avondale- so I gave as hard as I was given. but I didn't win, plus my call was being recorded- and I did really want to get a job.

But the whole experience has opened my eyes to the new life ahead of me. The life where I have to fend for myself. A life that doesn't really care about my religious affiliation or my sexual orientation. As long as I have my taxes paid and my rego is new- we're all good.

Part of me is itching to get 'out there' and give it 'em. But the other part wants to still run behind mums apron strings.

However- as attractive and scary as it is- I am being pushed out of the nest.

I am moving to Tauranga. Teaching at Bethlehem College.

But here is a pic that warms my heart and will do when I am looking at it in admist grimy teachery stuff in the heart of the jungle.

Christmas in my house. Yum.

I shall be updating this from time to time. My theme at the moment- contradiction.

Photography v's teaching- can I have both?

My cooking v's mums- should I start learning.

Growing up v's staying the same height.

eckseterah............