......Spoonful of Daniela......

Change of address.

2011-02-23T10:03:00.000-08:00

Yup.
So- new address.
Not sure why.
follow your heart, yaddiyadder.

Anyway.
Bit of a new water mark ish too.

Actually a couple.
anyway.

http://spoonfullofdaniela.wordpress.com/

looking toot sweet.

2011-02-16T22:56:00.000-08:00

$100.

Thats all it will take.

To get from this:

To this:

or $75 by yourself looking hot.

Studio or Location.

Your choice.

Plus a bit o' post production editing.

Sahweeet deal.

Call me toot sweet.

oh sweet sweet holidays.

2011-02-11T11:29:00.000-08:00

What happens when I stay on hold for too long.

2011-02-10T23:02:00.000-08:00

Rachel is...ahem, ENGAGED!

2011-02-10T23:00:00.000-08:00

On etiquette and fondue. Cause thats what important.

2011-02-05T15:55:00.001-08:00

So.

One week in.

It's not possible to tan at school. And thats sad.

Had a kid ask me if I was wearing pants. So thats always nice.

But this weekend I am on holiday.

Had a fondue party. The red couch had its debut.

Toblerone chocolate. Basil Gryere cheese. OHWOW.

OOOO. Also, I have dscovered this RAD as site. With non-mainstream indie music.

And they are ethical too.

Here's their blurb and link:

http://www.withetiquette.com/info/

Oh mum. You smell nicer than my car.

2011-01-29T16:12:00.000-08:00

So remember my blog about this time last year about mink blankie's? http://spoonfullofdaniela.blogspot.com/2010/01/remember-mink.html

or this one about running away from a furniture store to mums hot drink?

http://spoonfullofdaniela.blogspot.com/2010/03/life-looks-way-cooler-with-my.html

Yeah well.

Im sitting in a coffee shop being stealth with the internet.

Because I got my internet router sent to the wrong address.

Anyway.

Point is.

I have moved.

To a space I get to fill.

Again with the tears.

Again with the midlifey crisis moments.

Again with the awesome mum.

Far out.

She is better than that mink blanket.

She plodded down in the ute just so I could have the purple bookshelf I painted when I was a tween.

Actually not true.

She is a woman.

Who knows about the width of curtain pleats.

She also knows that red towels need to be washed separate.

She knew that the black couch would be more practical, but encouraged me to get the red one cause it was more me.

She also asked the questions to the scary german landlords while I peeked out from her apron strings.

She gave me hug.

That almost undid me.

Then did me back up again.

Oh wow mum.

Thanks for coming on that first grocery shop with me as an adult.

Magic words: "You get whatever crackers you like dana".

ICANWHAT????? Oh sweet choice. haha.

So mum.

Cheers to the hottest cat in the block.

I love your blondeness for ever.

OOOOO. New site. (Without the need for glasses).

2011-01-15T16:43:00.000-08:00

http://spoonfullofdaniela.wordpress.com/

So there it is. A new website.
Pretty sure I'll never delete this blog though.
I like talking while I type to much.

Im interested in what you think too. I'm pretty much painting by numbers when it comes to this whole maybe one day i'll be a professional creative thing.

Here's a picture too.

If a picture tells a thousand words- my video just took over a magazine.

2011-01-12T16:06:00.000-08:00

Yo.

I rekon you should see how awesome my holidays have been.
-And still are I spose.

Holiday's are a state of mind.

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=497381225115&comments

Summer Discoveries

2011-01-08T02:55:00.000-08:00

So.

Just thought i'd share my experimentation.

No pressure. Full on sunshiney flavoured experiments.

All on a precious Sabbath.

Here a pic I took of my friend playing with the framing of the shot- lanscape or portrait. Totally changes the 'fahlavour' of the image.

I tried dappling with lanscapey shots. But my faux ADHDness got the better of me. And I lasted one shot.

I know for a fact I prefer people. They talk back to you and may laugh at your jokes.

I love artistic temperaments. different creative personalities.

He draws and I paint.

So I also decided to flip the 200mm lens and take a pic through it using the Manual focus on the other tinesque lens.

Could potentially be rad with a(lot) of tweaking.

Oooo random one- Late at night. Cant remember the settings. But I do remember getting ted to run. lots.

HA. While I stood there. Being awesome.

And this is me.

With a bit o tweaking in Iphoto.

I love Mac flavoured products.

The Lurrrve Bug.

2010-12-27T19:26:00.000-08:00

So scuse me while I share something deep.

Maybe I'm niave, young or dense or whatever- but it has just hit me.

Love is a sacrifice.

That saying "treat others how you love to be treated", may work for you to recieve love, but to give love- you have to speak their langauage. And unless your the same emotional nationality- your a foreigner and have to dig out the phrase book to give the love that person will recieve.

And it's not easy. Thats why its a sacrifice.

And that, kids- is perhaps my last deep insight for 2010.

Anyway,

Love languages.

Gary Chapman is a champ. He has interpreted for me many times and has not even met me.

He's the author of the 5 love languages.

Here's a run down of the 5 love languages that describe how we recieve love. The trick after that is learning how to sacrifice our love language to speak love to someone else.

"The 5 Love Languages^®

Words of Affirmation
Actions don’t always speak louder than words. If this is your love language, unsolicited compliments mean the world to you. Hearing the words, “I love you,” are important—hearing the reasons behind that love sends your spirits skyward. Insults can leave you shattered and arae not easily forgotten.
Quality Time
In the vernacular of Quality Time, nothing says, “I love you,” like full, undivided attention. Being there for this type of person is critical, but really being there—with the TV off, fork and knife down, and all chores and tasks on standby—makes your significant other feel truly special and loved. Distractions, postponed dates, or the failure to listen can be especially hurtful.
Receiving Gifts
Don’t mistake this love language for materialism; the receiver of gifts thrives on the love, thoughtfulness, and effort behind the gift. If you speak this language, the perfect gift or gesture shows that you are known, you are cared for, and you are prized above whatever was sacrificed to bring the gift to you. A missed birthday, anniversary, or a hasty, thoughtless gift would be disastrous—so would the absence of everyday gestures.
Acts of Service
Can vacuuming the floors really be an expression of love? Absolutely! Anything you do to ease the burden of responsibilities weighing on an “Acts of Service” person will speak volumes. The words he or she most want to hear: “Let me do that for you.” Laziness, broken commitments, and making more work for them tell speakers of this language their feelings don’t matter.
Physical Touch
This language isn’t all about the bedroom. A person whose primary language is Physical Touch is, not surprisingly, very touchy. Hugs, pats on the back, holding hands, and thoughtful touches on the arm, shoulder, or face—they can all be ways to show excitement, concern, care, and love. Physical presence and accessibility are crucial, while neglect or abuse can be unforgivable and destructive".

Anyway, anyway, Anyway.

My Dad's language of love is service.
He takes it as a personal insult if I forget to bring in the washing (never mind the fact that I just told him he suited grey hair).
He's MRBEHINDTHESCENES.

And this is the result:

He sourced 3 VW's and combined their forces.
He's a champ.

Christmas trees don't have to be green and hairy.

2010-12-17T11:58:00.000-08:00

So I think this might be my first blog where I have completely outsources the ideas.
Good on me. Im finally admitting I'm not all that.
But I am someof it.
Just not today.
Anyway, Anyway, Anyway.

Here are some rad as christmas tree ideas that don't offend the wallet and are a happy alternative from green santa flavoured trees.

http://cdn.webecoist.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/tree-6.png

http://design-milk.com/images/2008/11/possibiliTree.jpg
(oops lost the links to the other ones. DANG IT- IM SOOO GETTING SUED).

Happy Sabbath World.

My mum's cooler than yours.

2010-12-09T01:24:00.000-08:00

So would you believe my mother turned 60????

I loved the long weekend at the Batch with mums Gals.

Here's some moments taken that set the ambience:

And here's some pics of the set up:

Pretty much all of it revolved around laughing. eating. preseants. laughing. and food. With a dose of chocolate.

Here's a glipse of the snappys I took.

Here's Mum being Stunning:

Oh HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUM!!!!

If ya fancy some squity frown lines- get a closer look at these:

Nutter in the corner staring at children.

2010-11-27T23:20:00.000-08:00

There is something dandy about writing with a pen.
And even dandier drawing.

I have missed it.
The awkward shuffles of people slowing down to stare over your shoulder.
The waitresses thinking they are stealth by not sloshing the coffee while they look at what the nutter at table 7 is drawing.

Anyway, anyway, anyway.

Point is.

Heres a few moments from allbymyselfinpublicplaces.

OOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!
Also. there is this thing in NZ.
I think everyone should go.

IExpose. Epic Post 1.

2010-11-24T00:22:00.000-08:00

So apart from teaching little jellyfish how to sting.

This is what else 2010 tastes like:

A harmonica sourced by my bro. Complete with the cigarette ash from the original owners:

Oh BOY. this doesn't even need a caption.

I have missed NZ cocoa beans.

A faure into the adult host world.The turks would have been proud.

I play in this ground:

This is my bro.
Being all natrual like.

At a Market.
I found where fairies pursue the glitter circus and play in gold dust.

While i in the meantime turn my winter stumps into a golden compass.

So you might recognize the author.

This is better than "eat pray love".

I figured that out all by myself, before I even read them both.

Her most famous one.

I think I was more excited to photograph it.

No thats not fair.

I would like to write a quote's book from her musings and claim the royalties.

My photo will one day be on the front.

no not me.

actually....maybe.

At the hairdressers.

I caught my gown, the table and the wall playing nicely together.

This my new 'do.

Can't do much with it.

Cept look rad.

(haven't heard that word much in NZ, rekon I'll start).

Oh vintage cheese. you always taste the best.

I want to be this Rad then.

(she was marching in the brest cancer walkathon)

Romanian Food!!!!!

Oh hello tummy.

didn't notice you INVADING my hotness.

Bluddy Romanians.

Always trying to get you to pay for it.

This is my mum.

Can you believe I'm going to her 60th in a week?

innashesweet?

Fridays.

On the slosh.

HA.

virgan all the way.

I love Flying Burrito Bro's- they make the best non alco drinks.

OH I LOVE SEEING THIS.

its on my road trip to and fro the big smoke.

This is Dad.

He's trying to explain something.

But I'm not listening.

BECAUSE THIS CAR IS MINE.

Oh swoon balloon.

He has 2 VW's in his garage.

We (loose term I know) are going to cut and paste the two into a smooth mobile.

This is the '66

Aww, isn't my dad a champ?

And this is the '69.

Back to food.

Italy. you can keep your men.

But certainly not your taste in decor. or food either.

This is a piano accordian.

And its upside down.

Thats me holding it.

And to Finish with:

So remember a blog post about dankness?

This was me trying to escape that.

If your feeling ugly.

Surround yourself in beauty.
Then claim it for yourself.

PS- thats an original quote. Don't steal.

Mating Season.

2010-11-18T23:23:00.000-08:00

So its mating season.

Has been a while actually.

The calls are unique.
Some are attractive and husky.
Some are downright crass.

However. This year I am a puppet. Gepetto upstairs is my match maker- No, not 'the man upstairs'.
Just the cheif to my indian.
I hope he remembers what it was like running around barefoot in the woods.

This time last year I had finished carving my jigsaw piece.
I placed it on the table.
At the same time a school was carving out their piece.
Happened to be the same pattern as mine.
And that children...is how a baby is made.

Anyway,
The point is it worked.
9 months later, Im still here. I survived. And my piece is still on the board.
One little part of the bigger picture.

I guess I'm just having a flash back moment to where I thought the world would combust into fairy lights and rainbows as soon I announced my arrival into the 'market' after graduation. But really all it did was grunt and shift over to make room for me.

And for some reason this comforts me.
It's a peaceful moment.
I belong.

I can still hear cat calls as I walk down the street.
Whether its the echo of lovers gone,
Or the whisper of new unions.

But I know, that for now.
I am here.
I belong.

The war???? Bring it.

2010-11-02T11:49:00.000-07:00

So last night I tried to write this post. Didn't work. CTRL Z was my frenemy.

Anyway.
I have declared war on smludge. Dankness. politics. PMSness.
And dang its fighting back.

You see...I have a thousand projects that need my inspiration.
Dad has sourced 2 VW's. Fo' Real.
Pictures soon- I'm supposed to be rushing off to work.
Anyway, Also the Sketchbook project.com needs my attention.
And this potential 'thing' for mums birthday (she may read this...so cannot be revealed here).

However this war is crippling.
And I think it goes beyond the present.

I think its that war called Spiritual.
Which is funny I am acknowledging this, and being aware of it- because this freedom and independence has gotten too attractive this year. If I want to go to the shops- I can leave when I want. If I want to ge that chocolate fore breakfast- I did. If I don't want to acknowledge God- I didn't. (I know- I was TOTALLY ruining Syntax there- deliberatly).

Anyway, the point is, I have retreated from God. Neither for nor against. Neither Love nor hate- the worst kind of Christian- apathetic.
Oh boy- no wonder I have struggled to feel passionate.

But my heart is telling me it wants to return.
And what has tugged at my strings? Christian music and peoples stories. There really is something incredible in someone's face shining when they share a truth or experience they had with God.
If they have this passion- perhaps I could to?

So there I have said it.
I want more.
I want to feel.
I want to be all shiny like.

So I have started telling God about my details again.

My problems,
My fears.

The present and the future.

My excitements,
My goals.

The present and the future.

So thats me.
Sorry there's no pictures. My computer is faaaar to slow to respond to random inspiration.

Rather important post:

2010-09-16T02:49:00.000-07:00

So its the eve of my 23rd birthday.

This will be a short post.

On the eve of my 20th: "flip. 10yrs ago I was 10. In 10 yrs time I'll be 30".

On the eve of my 21st: "yay, mum and jaxon are here"

22: not much.

Tonight: "The next time the second didgit of my age matches the 1st will be when I'm 33: The age Jesus was when he died".

Random bit of wisdom after my last shower as a 22yr old: Make sure you don't leave your wet red hair on white tiles. It will leave pink lines everywhere. Unless you own the tiles- then take a photo of it and sell the prints on trademe.

Here's a pic of me in case you forgot what I looked like.

kitten's, headache's and fancy pills.

2010-09-08T15:13:00.000-07:00

Last night I cried. It was a pathetic attempt- I couldn't let it take me to far down the rabbit hole because if I did- I'd heave.

Drama much? Dang. This week has knocked me down. I have always said I'd turn into a man when I get sick. All 'man flu like', but that was said in the confidence of having never actually been seriously sick in my life. Wait I remember having the sniffles back in my 1st yr at college when the floods took the power and my morale.

But mum, breathing tufts of love down the phone said she never rememberes me being this sick before. Temps of 38 and vertigo themed headache's had never ever been on my radar.

I remember one night this week, I thought my feet were dragged backwards and flinging me in circles like I was the saturday night lottery board.

But I really am blessed to be living with a Dr and a Nurse. We'll call this family the 'Incredibles'.
They last night welcomed me to the world of little blue and white pills. Antibiotics- you little pearls. And a beautiful prayer. There is something stunning about someone praying for you when you don't have the strength to do it yourself.

I can now see without having to squint one eye and tilt my head, I can smell.....(my sheets are in the wash because of this) and I can almost breathe deeply without feeling like I'm sucking life through a straw.

And I'm debt free. I wrote a list of goals and the one at the top of this yr- to be debt free by my birthday. I'm 8 days early.
2nd goal on the list- hasn't happened. But during one 3am wake-up call by God I was thinking that the only way to get me to start taking this goal seriously was if I got stopped in my tracks. If something dramatic happened.

And it seems like a week of debilitating headache's, special moments of kittens sleeping on me, episodes of nausea, interspersed with chapters of the disney favourite "Emperors new groove" might just be the drama I was needing.
Ugh what an awful thing to wish upon myself.

But I guess im looking for the Birds-eye view in a balloon full of helium.

(which incidently- you need to check this woman out- her byline on her blog is "I'd like to see into your dreams my little girl"- while her baby's sleeping, she sets a scene up and takes the picture. http://milasdaydreams.blogspot.com/ )

2010-08-25T22:28:00.000-07:00

This is a snippet from my exhabition.

Stop and Stare.

2010-08-24T23:25:00.000-07:00

...............by One Republic.
You sound best when a mass of primary schoolers belt you out (of tune).

But this is not about you.

I got this book.
with real pages. Not the Ctrl T type page. Pages that smelt and rustled.
I turned my lights down....bad for the eyes, great for the soul. And then I read.

Till I got distracted and stopped and stared.

Till I got distracted from that and digressed to taking photo's.

Exhabition

2010-08-21T23:15:00.000-07:00

This is the closest I have ever been to being a commercial artist. I don't mind the final product. But at 30% commission, this exhabition sucked the creativity out of me. I may have sold out- I hope its not tooo 'cafe art'. I'm a "real" artist haha. But anyway, I got there in the end, but dang. The process was not pleasant.

Anyway- this is the works for the exhabition.
I'll but pics up of the sahweet frames I made...which are in array at home. 4 coats of paint and I'm in a heady sense of reality.

Latoya Williams

2010-08-20T14:10:00.000-07:00

I'm going to pretend I've been photographying for yeeeeeers and have loads of experience doing model portfolio's and give the highest compliment: We in the 'budniz' say..."what a natrual".

flippin heck, im not kidding- nothing was forced. she just ooozed starishness.

Dang- normally a photographer has to jump into the shot to demonstrate 'the vision', but as soon as the lights were ready- she went off.

Man it was fun.

PS she talkes awesome. I was cracking up.

And my absolute fav series of images...:

Postcards

2010-08-15T23:57:00.000-07:00

Dear Diary.....it's been a while.

Sound familiar?
Dang. I have been avoiding writing my thoughts.
Im a bit lost. Im in a tangled web of my own doing. I've never been here before. I might like it- it might choke me. But the truth of it is I feel numb. I have avoided being by myself, or being too deep.

Click on the link below to hear my favourite singer/songwriter do a better job of explaining how I feel. (you'll need to click on the Postcards track too...)

Postcards

Lyrics:

"At seventeen she ran away to the city
Thought she would find herself there
Scared and afraid, she pan-handled all day
To get enough for a one-way fare
And a taxi to the nearest greyhound bus
Made a call, mom said please come home to us

I'm searching, I'm traveling
My life's been unraveling
I still don't know where this will lead
Enjoying the weather
I'll get it together so don't worry
I'll send you a postcard
From my journey to me

Crawled through the desert
And swam in the ocean
Tried meditation
And a few magic potions
Marched at the Whitehouse
Agianst the attacks
Sent a call out to Buddah
But he never called back
And I'm thinking there must be something
I have missed
What do you think of all this

I'm searching, I'm traveling
My life's been unraveling
I still don't know where this will lead
Enjoying the weather
I'll get it together so don't worry
I'll send you a postcard
From my journey to me

If you can't find all the answers from anyone else
You'll just have to see for yourself
Under a blanket and up on a mountain
A sleeping bag prayer
Where she drank from the fountain
Thought about Sunday school
Thought about Jesus
Love that's so simple, grace that's so genius
And just like those ruby red slippers you know
The answers were there in her soul

I'm searching, I'm traveling
But I'm not unraveling
I still don't know where this will lead
Enjoying the weather, it feels like forever
Since I've seen Tennessee
This is the last of my postcards
I'll be back home by the next star
I love you all with all my heart
Sincerely, Me"

ring riiiiiiiiiiiing a ding.

2010-07-06T03:46:00.000-07:00

I was looking at togs today (of all things) and the shop lady asked me something personalish and I blurted out something about being a teacherish. Then she observed how much teachers have to work in the holidays.

I totally corrected her.

As if- unless I become like a HOD of all the HOD's- whats that like a principal or something? I'd NEVER bring myself to come into school 8-4, 5 days a week- yagottabekiddingme. Seriously, work like ya got no life during the term, then spend hours milling round the mall searching for control undies (im in a wedding this weekend, its a must have).

Then she said something like "ah well, must be nice to have a break from the little uns". Then I muttered something about secondary students while under a few pairs of sunnies (im cool like that), she gasped, grabbed me under the arm, dragged me under better light and told my I looked to young to teach them.

HA- I suddenly got a flash back to my first practicum when I was 18- intimidating kids older than me.

Quote of the day: "If ya can't fake it...google to ya make it".

Oh swoooooooon, google. my best friend. I learn't how to photograph like a techicat, how to sing (www.tangle.com), how to teach yr 8's about the blues era, how to play I'm yours (Jason Mraz) on the ukulele- and more. When its just to inappropiate to ask the person sitting next to you in ch, or to ring your mum in the middle of the night- google will be there for you. If not google- then youtube.

So there you have it. A soliliqy exhibiting the signs of life that doesn't ring of...well bells.

Happy hols.

My new watermark

2010-07-04T17:59:00.000-07:00

So I have been learning the ways of copyright- modal relase forms and the less creative side of photography. Not a pleasant process as my idealisism can alter my perception on reality, so all this is very new- the assertive photographer.

Anyway enough blah blah. Here is my new watermark/logo.

Charlie and I...Weeze tight.

2010-05-17T03:38:00.000-07:00

There is a change-a-brewin.
In me.
I like it.

This is a mixymash blog. I have a bit swirlin round my head so good luck making sense of it.

Charles Darwin and me....we are a bit in sync. Ok so he's a mad nutter- but there are other similarities.

The survival of the fittest, Natrual Selection.
That's me.
One example of Natrual Selection is Mimicry. "Some harmless insects mimic other insects that are more powerful. Mimicry evolves because the better mimics survive better. They live to produce more offspring than the less good mimics. The genes of the better mimics become more common in the species. Over time, mimic species get closer to their models. This is the process of evolution by natural selection" (- on ya wikipedia).

Good ole Darwin. Hit the nail on the head, and then missed and got his thumb, but the sentiment remains.....
I have had some solid models in my new professional enviroment to mimic.They are experinced and successful teachers that are talented, passionate and honest. The more I mimic them, the more I become like them- talented, passionate and honest.

And Darwin- another winner example of Natrual Selection is Wings: "The wings of birds are good examples of evolution caused by the creature adapting (changing to fit in) to its environment. Wings have evolved, and they enhance the survival of their possessors".
In order for me to survive, I have to adapt my wingspan. I have to LOVE routine (and secretly I do). I have to pre-pack my lunch. I have to budget. I have to learn to say no. I have to rely on myself to rely on God.

It could be quite terryfying if I never had anything good to mimic.

I can see that this new me is evolving. A new professional dependable me. I like it. I like being relied on. Good ole Muss Brown. (still hearing the kiwi accent). I like the new musical wings that I'm developing- like when the creativity is stripped away- there still is a music teacher who knows her stuff.

It's nice.
It's like cutting your hair. Whenever you pass a window- you stop, notice the changes- how now you can feel the wind on your neck, you fluff up the new style and move on with a zing.

Yeah, the new me. I'm not entirely sure that if the new me stepped out of the mirror and introduced itself, I would recognize it yet. Its all hollographicish still.

The new me, its pending.

In case he gets famous...

2010-05-15T23:24:00.000-07:00

So his mum and I go to Church together.
Therefore- the logical thing to do is to photograph her son. Its only natrual.
Pretty sure he's going to be famous and I can say that I photographed his first model porfolio.

Routine smells of trains and tastes like crusts.

2010-04-03T23:17:00.000-07:00

My last posts have been oppressive/depressive.

But I have stumbled across something so intense that without it my life would be an apron without the smell of baking.

Inspiration.

Like breath to my flute.

Im going to stop there with the analogy's- you can imagine your own wind beneath your winginess.

At school I teach music.

2 things that have kept me out of the loony routine bin is:

www.therebelution.com Inspiring teens to Rebel against Rebellion.

and The Frankie Magizine.

Excerpts from this magazine have graced my office space, my coffee mug and my bible.

I'd been on a mission every afternoon I had nothing of particular importance to do, to find the newest raddest edition. Seriously- loo time reading is not the same without Frankie.

9 weeks into this challenge I find myself loitering on the habour of Tauranga spying on hot guys in resturants wearing tight jeans and wedding bands (I HATE this coincidence), and in general saving petrol by wasting time between engagements.

So anyway I slink into this dodgy indian diary (imagining it on the cover of the next NZ herald for the latest break and enter robbery) and then actually sqeal outloud because there behind a grimy car/nakey lady mag is the Frankie Magazine. my Frankie. I actually did a tiny jump as everything in my world finally fell into a sweet vintage alignment that smelt of musk and cinnimon.

Anyway anyway anway, the point is. From that moment on, I have been indulging in Frankie when the mood is down. Like when go on a road trip, get in your car and you know something isn't right- you adjust the volume and away you go.

When I get up, have a shower, trudge to work, teach as though no-one is actually sitting in front of me, complain about the bad coffee, get in the car-get home-get in bed, close eyes and forget about what I just did all day, Thats when I know something isn't right.

Routine is Dangerous.
Routine is Depressive.
Routine is Contagious.
Routine is...Sucks.

Get Inspired,

For me its getting Frankie.

It inspired me to do stuff.

Like putting tuscun seasoning on avocado.
Like wearing a skirt the wrong way around,
Like speaking in an accent to someone you've never met before,
Like mouthing music and deliberatly looking at the cars next to you at traffic lights,
Like taking a picture using your sunnies.

Like anything- just do stuff that gives you something to remember.

This is the end of my soliliqy.

Life looks way cooler with my retrospecs on.

2010-03-05T01:34:00.000-08:00

I got my retrospecs on right now.
I was very tempted to wander around without them on and you'd be none the wiser.

But here I sit. Retrospectales on. The rear-view mirror in focus.

This time last week, I was driving around with my eyes so blurry I nearly crashed into my own shadow.
I was hyperventilating and felt so totally stifled. Even though I was in a car on the open road.

That afternoon I had gotten 'home' from 'work' and layed down on my army barrack, nearly sunk through the floor witht he sheer weight of my heart- or that could just ahve been the shotty srings. And with the new flatmate having a go at her son as a themesong I cried out. Internally of course. it nearly blew vessels.

I felt so oppressed. I've never felt that way before. I had to get out. To physically be alone. So I did. I put my sunnies on (while inside like a cool person) and left. Got in the car and let rip. I cried so loud I was scared of the sound. It was the most gutteral sound. It came from so deep inside me it sounded like something else.

I ended up in a furniture store of all places. Wandering around completely lost. I then had the weirdest thought- 'Where the hell am I going to put my VW collection?!' And then that set me off again. I raced back into the car and let rip once more.

So fast forward to the eyes blurry moment and then you have the phone call. To mum. Asking if I could come home again. The poor woman. I must have sounded wounded. I was hyper breathing.

Anyway enough of that. I drove and lamented to God the entire 4 hour journey home. I didn't stop for the loo once. I felt like Job.

So I got home. Almost didn't put the handbrake on in my rush to get in the house. And mum said these precious words.... "Shall I put the kettle on"?

Wow.

I had such a blessed weekend. It was reprieve. I went to church. Had a movie night with mum, had my car checked over by dad, got my OWN crockery and pillows, designed my bro's 21st invites and visited friends.

It was with the logic of my parents that cut through the non-sensical girly PMS frills of me. "Why don't you give that woman a call- you know, the one with the unit thingy attached to their house.....the one for free".

Oh boy. No wonder all the other places I looked at tore me apart. Gods had a plan that I could only see through my retrospec's.

Anyway- cut to the car trip back to Tauranga.
I was crying again. sheesh. I could water Darwin. Only these tears were balm.
I was talking out loud like a nutter then cackling away when another revelation from God cut through.

I learnt alot in that car trip about the great I AM. I claimed God in every moment.

"Lord, Im worried about the car trip....I AM"
"Lord, what about Jaxon? I AM"
"Lord, what about where I'm going to live.." AM"
"Lord, what about the primary schoolers I teach...I AM"
Lord...? I AM, And What about?...I AM. And what if?... I AM.

No matter what I said... the answer was the same- "I AM".

The mistake I had done in the past month was to ask ask ask and just when God was about to answer I ask ask ask again. The same cycle.

The family who own this unit asked me in my FIRST weekend in Tauranga if I would like to live here. I said....no. And have now spent the last month complaining about living in a bird cage while not noticing the door is swung open.

Duh.

My new digs are amazing. Like a Sanctuary. wow.
It's a Haven.

Im blessed.

I might even wear these retrospecs inside.

Sara and Jaith.

2010-02-21T21:34:00.000-08:00

For 2 yrs she told me what to do and where to be and how to do it. My boss I guess. I even got VIP lanyard out of it haha.

Editor of the Jacaranda Magazine. Good ole kiwi gorl makes it big as a designer in Australia. And made it big in Jaiths heart (another designer and another cushy cute pun).

They got married in the best part of NZ- Mt Maunganui beach. Sweet deal for me who lives 15mins away.

Anyway this is about them.

Get ready for the sunnies.

She's so hot.

2010-02-15T00:12:00.000-08:00

Snatch the moment. Seize the day. Carpe damn.

One ear is blocked and I have the headace that comes with self-induced ADHD'ness.
My implusivness is in overdrive.

This post has nothing to do with teaching/school/work/boys.

I have never set up a life before on my own. I can make any decision and pay the consequesces. And by pay I mean....Pay. I got my first measly pay (NZ beurocracy has red taped my salary to their 'pending' box). Truly- if I decide I can't hack it living like a nomad, I could rent a 4 bedroom apartment in the lusted area of the hood- and have no money for dental floss. Or I could lie to myself and say that living out of a cardboard box with seedy old men is heaps artsy and gypsy like, but my foot would be hard on the exaggerator and potentially fatal.

In the last couple of weeks I've looked at so many flats with so many different flat 'mates' or should I say flat 'geezers' and 'marms' that my head is spinning. So much that its full of mucus and I can only breathe with one nostril.

Its actually been very hard. Money sucks. Petrol sucks the money and growing up sometimes sucks.

Anyway, anyway, anyway- I'm overtired and sick of being sick.

Life is really lala. But I do need to buy running shoes and the world will be clearer.
But first I need to pray. Not like I did before in between mouthfuls of flat hunting- but before breakfast. Before the very first spoonful of Daniela is dished up for the day.

Remember the Mink.

2010-01-30T18:44:00.000-08:00

Today is special.
Its a day of reprieve. I want to write about it before I get swept away and forget.
Today is the first day here in my new life that I have stopped. truly stopped and don't need to cry.

For the past week I've started my life in Tauranga. New car, school, house, church and people.
I've tried so hard to keep my emotions in balance this last week- because change is huge. Especially one to this extent. And because I was blessed with over-active emotions, when given half the chance I'm swept away.
But I had to restrain them. I had to be polite: "Yes, Hi, my Name is Daniela (no I don't mind that you just repeated it back to me wrong), Yes it is a beautiful school, Yes I am thrilled to be here in your house...."
Not that I'm sad to be here, Its just so darn unfamiliar. No-one knows me. I never thought that would be the biggest emotion I feel. Loneliness.
Oh there are people, lots of them and they are beautiful caring and genuine. But they don't know me.

Normally a heightened intense sense of emotion is a direct reference to the state of my relationship with God- but this time I find myself clinging to him. Only he got me this amazing job (and its true- it really is a blessing) and only he knows how much I really swear and how I want to be softer in spirit.

But my throat has been choked up this week. And that's actually quite sore- especially when your trying to hold a polite conversation with someone.

One major tip I have for those who have left home to a unfamiliar territory- bring a mink blanket or something that is warm, from home, that is yours- not laid on your bed by your host. Something you can surround yourself in and rock yourself to sleep and press your face into to muffle your sobs and to pretend its your mum.
These deep emotions only overwhelm me at night and early mornings, when I've stopped- car/meal or bed time. During the day when I actually have to be functional I feel invincible. I have God on my side and a great future ahead of me and nothing can stop me.

But when these moments overwhelm me I have to stop the car (or pick a private moment), run my body dry, indulge in the sorrow. Then pick my head up, stand strong and be brave. I never thought I would be this scared.

I might also advise not to have these 'breakdown' moments 10 mins before you have to walk into the school on your first day. People might notice. Look at you kindly and set you off again.

I am growing up in these moments. God is teaching me something through it- of that I'm sure. Strength, self-assurance in the blessed assurance or something.

But I guess the whole point of this post is to write it down. Writing is therapy. To write is to remember. To remember the day it rained, To remember the day where I am alone but finally praise God not lonely.

Ruan and Hannah's Wedding.

2010-01-30T14:04:00.000-08:00

Ruan went to my church.
Hannah started coming.
Because of Ruan.
She turned into one of the sweetest, most genuine people I know.
Even if I did only see her in snippets.

At our church camp she came up to me and invited me to their wedding. Their WEDDING!!!! I know....9mnths later right?? kidding. Its love I'll expect.

Anyway her's some pics- I took my powershot point and shoot. And managed to get in the way of the actual photographer the get a couple of snaps. I love it- the guests think they have the right haha.

I dreamed a dream in time gone by................

2010-01-19T15:46:00.000-08:00

Its Time.

I have been on a 10 day church camp.
Before I left, I prayed that God would reveal to me what he wants- basically commiting myself to him. For me to return to what I once was.

So that week, through the incidental moments that you had to 'be there' for, not through the speakers or the programs, God reignited in me a passion and a purpose.

So I was born in Romania. Taken to an orphanage at birth- the other details are hazy/and to sensational to bother with. Its was footage of the orphans after the revolution that inspired my beautiful parents to adopt.
There is no doubt in my mind that there was no other option in my life- other than to end up a kiwi, in a beautiful family with a heart for God. Absolutly no other option.

So it is no suprise either, that God had lead me to return to Romania. No other option.
Here's a picture (I didn't take it) that is the icon of my return:

This is what I would love to do: (pending God's actual design for my future to be revealed), Go to Romania-armed with a camera, a savings account and a heart to listen.

So for the next 2 yrs- while in a beautiful job, I want to save like no other, take Romanian classes again (I really only know the swear words), buy camera equiptment and team up with a group- either a ministry group or a journalist team.

Then go to Romania and see where God leads. To take footage of the orphans still there to rise International awareness, to start a studio, teach in a school, work in an orphanage, tell my story- where ever he needs.

It reminds me of Moses- he returned eventually to the land he came from to bring his people home- now I know I'm no wilderness majician- but God used what was in his hand- a staff. He will use whats in my hand- a camera.

Here is a verse that is going to be the promise I continually claim these next to yrs- 2 Colossions 5:14.

If I read two versions of the same verse they say "The love of the lord constrains me". Or: "The love of the lord compells me".

Compell and Constrain. Push forward or restrain.

oover the next 2 yrs, I need to be sensitive to God pushing me through the times when my motivation ceases and 'reality' checks in. To inspire me when I have forgotten the dream I once had.

Also I need to listen to God slowing me down, making me think properly about things- not in a flood of emotion and flinging it all away in the heat of the moment. To plan and take it in his time and plan it all properly.

Compell and Constrain. Its kind of a mantra for all aspects of my life anyway. Im so darn impulsive then get immediatly forgetful.

Here's another pic (not mine either) to finish up on.

Theme Song of 2010.

2010-01-06T17:27:00.000-08:00

Jamie Cullum "Twenty Something".

I listened to it on my road-trip-to-get-me-a-job. He's also kinda good looking, in a boy-caught-in-his-dad's-workboots kinda way.

hmm kinda-over-this-type-of-typing.

"After years of expensive education
A car full of books and anticipation
I'm an expert on Shakespeare and that's a hell of a lot
But the world don't need scholars as much as I thought
Maybe I'll go traveling for a year
Finding myself, or start a career
I could work for the poor, though I'm hungry for fame
We all seem so different but we're just the same
Maybe I'll go to the gym, so I don't get fat
Aren't things more easy, with a tight six pack
Who knows the answers, who do you trust
I can't even separate love from lust
Maybe I'll move back home and pay off my loans
Working nine to five, answering phones
But don't make me live for my Friday nights
Drinking eight pints and getting in fights
Don't wanna get up, just have a lie in
Leave me alone, I'm a twentysomething
Maybe I'll just fall in love
That could solve it all
Philosophers say that that's enough
There surely must be more
Love ain't the answer, nor is work
The truth eludes me so much it hurts
But I'm still having fun and I guess that's the key
I'm a twentysomething and I'll keep being me."

oh wow- this is everything about me and the mo- the contradiction/tension between being in-between.

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

2009-12-31T22:48:00.000-08:00

2009-12-31T01:35:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-12-30T00:38:00.000-08:00

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....?

2009-12-26T00:57:00.000-08:00

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............

Re-Shoot

2009-11-21T20:31:00.000-08:00

So I had the opportunity to re-shoot the Pinter family.
This time on location.

Its hard shooting families.
I'll be honest.
Trying to get 12 eyes all looking in one direction.
A mission.

Exhabition Jitters

2009-11-17T06:32:00.000-08:00

My mind is buzzing.
I did a photoshoot today (pics soon) in the 100 acre wood (or at l;east thats how I explained it to the 3yr old).
And now I can't sleep. I have figured. If I haven't 'fed' my brain artistically. I have no hope sleeping.

In other news, It is the morning of my Graduation Exhabition. wow. This could be sadder if I indulged myself. I am trying to be stoic.

The 'theme' we were given for the exhabition was 'I AM'. This wasn't intended as a fluffy shmizzle excuse of a self-portrait.
But really we had to get to the core of what the dribble was about. It was like we wrote down what we were about, the core of us, what drove us. We then screwed up that piece of paper and re-wrote it. Then screwed it up again. And again. The result is a very raw exhabition.

My exhabition is all about yearning and seeking out what is hidden.
This woman is hidden.
I have always reached for her.
I have never seen her face.
All I know is that she exsisted at one point in more life. My birth.

So what happens when I tap her on the sholder and she turns around?

Whats the real, raw result of this search?

It's me.

I find me.

The apple never falls to far from the tree.

Thats confronting- to tell yourself you are like the person you are hidden from the most.

But its releasing.

It means I can be a daughter to my real mum and dad.

I am me.

Jasmine * Photo competition

2009-11-06T15:18:00.000-08:00

Ok so there are 2 people in the world I totally admire. I've said it for ages. Cindy Morgan for her amazing singer songwriter talent and Jasmine Star for not only her amazing photography- but her accessible success story- she's so real that it feels like I can do it.

I never thought I would meet them, but Jasmine Star has the photographic competition that means if I take this pic:

-A self-portrait with a 'star' somewhere in it...

I'm in the running to win a free seat to her workshop......wait for it............in NZ!!!! Back home!!! I never thought she'd come to nz- this is like my one chance.

http://jasminestarworkshop.com/

So here's what I did:

I jumpt up on stage at my University's evening church program during the announcements.... looked like a fool and announced I needed them to help a sistah in need (epic timing- straight after the plug for a concert raising funds for a slavery project).
So anyway after the service I got them to form a 'Star' on stage and I raced up to the sound and lighting desk, stood on the platform and pressed the self timer.

Here's the progression to get the pic...

The modals....

The ...erm....star....

Me taking over the entire image- smooth.

So here's the final pic!

But in case that one stinks Jasmine, I really want to go...so I grabbed this shot. With the starry lights.

The Jac Attack

2009-11-04T20:53:00.000-08:00

So we didn't go to the Jac Banquet (university formal). Instead I begged and swore on my life.... that I would protect the lights and studio equiptment. And I did. And for that I am proud. I can set up a studio. Ha! I even proved myself wrong.

ooo I digress.....I have a schmicky watermark.

So anyway we secretly announced that the studio was set up and voila! here are some shots of a few people that came through- we earn't le grande total of $6.

So after we did these saucy cats...

We got in on it. We dressed up like we went to the Jac, then we got changed...and changed and changed. Im such a girl.

Cue self timer and goofy dances.

And this is where I break my promise to the nice studio guys.

Step One: I leap.

Step Two: I run.

Step Three: I photograph the clean up...note- Photograph- not Clean

Then we are back on track.

I swear I'm not naked- but I have to credit Ted for being a very male photographer.

Pinter Family

2009-11-01T15:51:00.000-08:00

They say never work with children and pets.
So I did.

- not the pets though. Not yet.

Ted.

2009-10-25T15:34:00.000-07:00

He's like my sister. Ranece and I have been training him over the last 4 yrs. He's now quite polished.

My Mum

2009-10-25T15:30:00.000-07:00

This is a little corner for mum.

She's a mum,

She's beautiful.

She's a friend.

Kristy Young

2009-10-24T00:42:00.000-07:00

Her first photoshoot. can you believe it? She was/is amazing. Fromt he moment she walked in, I was inspired. Her mum was there in the background as the stylist and wow. I had so much fun. My abs got a workout too.

Break down/Break through

2009-09-25T05:01:00.000-07:00

Ok I'm not sure if its the reality of the situation, or if my judgement is completely impaired because I am obviously the one thinking it. But things - things meaning- people, stress levels, emotions, philosophies etc.............are crazy at the moment.

I feel like I am standing on what I used to think was concrete, only to find its melting ice and I'm slipping over, I look up to find help- only to find everyone else falling too.

I might also add- to make myself feel a bit better, that this is relative to my environment- which is as a graduating student at Avondale.

My little happy-go-lucky bubble is dissolving, I used to fluff around and not even think that things like permanence and consequences and cause and effect and cynicism and sarcasm existed let alone take over my world.

I'm learning things like how by 2020 depression will be the number one mental illness in teens and that no matter what we do- kids will still die and the world is in recession and tsunamis, hurricanes and yes I'll say it...dust storms hit home.

The world as an environment used to be non-negotiable- it existed, don't litter, but its there. But that's all changing- the world is scared of its own power to destruct.

This world is crying out. Leaders, teachers, governments and even pastors are headless chickens flapping around. Its no wonder we are moving away from the pick and mix post-modern philosophy. This world is crying out for the concrete again. Something infallible, something we can blindly trust.

Even though I am a Christian, a passionate one, I am scared. I am scared because the gap between the leaders and the people is closing in. I've been in enough board/bored meetings now to realise that even the highest of all infallible authorities are scared, uncertain sinners.

I don't like all this new found knowledge. I don't like how now I am being called to be a teacher to students in this new world that's changing before my eyes. But then on the other hand. I am ready.

Why am I worried and scared? The world is going to end- this world. I know that, I grew up with Sabbath schools themed to it. I have known all my life that even the rocks will cry out. That by the time Jesus comes, we will be crying out to be swept away from this pain.

Won't that be amazing, I can see my philosophy changing before my eyes. Wow. no more pain. Again with the cliche's I learnt in my memory gems. but seriously. In my sphere (my bubble of being) there is so much stress, awareness of pain and rejection. This world is an absolute mess. I can see why we are moving away from post-modern, it has all been preparation for Jesus to come back.
Now we are moving away from self-reliance to the terrifying truth that we are not in control of our own universe- physically, symbolically or emotionally.

No more pain. No more sadness. No more tension. I go to the city and no-one talks. No more strangers.

Its happening. Its now.

This awareness is a good thing. This is a huge ramble- mostly for my benefit. I got overwhelmed like none other, but wow. Typing this has revelled- well God has revelled through my rant- he is hearing us. He is about to swoop in and pick us up.

He's there. He's crying out to us.

I'm ready.

I feel sick, yet excited.

Its like the world in its self-absorbed state wasn't ready for God to return and save us. And he knew it.

It is only now when we realise the world we once 'controlled' is controlling us, do we cry out in blindness. Grappling around in the dark, tripping over objects on fallen on the ground only to find they are our leaders and who we blindly trusted.

We need God now. And he knows it.

He is calling us with the knowledge. I'm calling 'us' the ones with the full pathfinder sash and the history of sitting still on trains.

I know it is mid-night and I'm in a moment of spirit-led; thirst quenching revelry, but we need to shout. We need to be the rock for those who don't have this gift.

Why do we have this knowledge? No Christian is exempt. We are all guilty of hiding it under a bushel. With the gift of knowledge comes the burden of sharing.

But no, its not a burden, when its God inspired and not self driven, he will inspire, equip and deliver us. It when we do things in our name our christan t'duty' to share the truth become a chore.

Far out this terror is transformational. Its calling me to action.

Anyway what the crux of it is. Let's be the rocks in our own post 'post modern' worlds, let's tell the world the truth.

Actually, let's show the world.

My sister Jodes.

2009-09-25T00:44:00.000-07:00

This is my adopted piece of love. She is amazing. Totally my sister in every way. I was visiting her in Melbourne and we were shopping up a storm. And we went down an amazing alley way. It was taken on her camera. I love Melbourne. I love alleyway's, I love my sister Jody.

Krystle.

2009-08-27T15:37:00.000-07:00

The HOTTEST cat alive.

These pics were taken at the Newcastle coffee and chocolate festival. Oh I love alley's.

Teaching drums on a table and other bedtime stories

2009-07-25T05:03:00.000-07:00

So I’m on this Practicum that is so close to reality that I feel I just have to document it to remember it.

Normal Prac’s are a warm ball of idealistic word counts and theorist haziness. Everything can be improved and analysed for the greater good of the students.

Here’s the background to my current existence:

Once a yr for the last 3 yrs I’ve been dumped unceremoniously into an unsuspecting school on Prac–for as little as 2 weeks up to (this year) 2 months. On this Prac I write over the legal word limit, I nod off in class while ‘watching’ my supervisor wow me with their brilliance and nod my head when ever they blather to me about why they feel they are the best teacher. I then hide in the photocopy room for lunch or if I really daring- I walk around the playground (why do they call it that- high schoolers don’t “play”) and pretend I’m on duty- all in a daft effort to avoid other staff preying on a victim ear to vent their cynicism. I also invent elaborate tales as to where I’ve come from and what experience I have to justify my presence in a class full of well- lets be obvious here- students.

This is the Foreground:

I’m at this 2000+ (I’m sure I’ll have to know the statics accurately shortly) public school. Its uniform is stock standard moss green, with tartan lower half. Its co-ed and there are over 200 teacher/support staff. The staff room is themed bright red and blue with modern furnishing. The art dept still use blackboard while the music dept is a sharp contrast with mood lighting and a recording studio. I strongly suspect the principal bats for the other team (typical of woman in power in Nz sadly). Staff: hmm, it was just today that I found out a teacher was arrested for marijuana possession, other members of the staff range from leaky taps to stock standard army cadets. The students smell of cigarettes and hormones. There are more boys and the girls have cold knees because of the tartan belts they wear.
And now let’s fill in this canvas with detail.

I started 2 weeks before the end of term. During that first week there was a boiler explosion where 3 men were seriously injured and sadly one died. The school was hyper due to the media and days off school for the investigation. One thing I equally admired and hated about this school. The staff banded together as an absolute unit- I’ve never seen this in a public school before. There were morning teas shared lunches and morning teas and lunches and morning teas- I have now learnt that in order to support someone- you eat first. They were beautiful. But they completely neglected the students. Due to their worry that the media were going to twist the story- they never discussed any of it with the students. There was no de-brief assemblies of consequence, we (staff) were NOT allowed to mention his name to the students and if they at all showed signs of wear and tear- we had to shove victim support brochures in their face and send them on their way.

That weekend- after the After Ball of the School Ball, a 17yr old hung himself. A classmate did himself in. Again I was not allowed to mention his name to the students and to the teachers eye- School returned to normal by morning tea on Monday. Ugh those students are hurting and we can’t do a damn thing about it. It tears at my Christian heart.

Now- about my crazy supervisor. She is brilliant. British if that’s any key to your imagination. I watch her teach and I actually am furiously writing in my journal everything that comes out of her mouth. She has a sharp wit and an intimidating look that had me putting my hand up in response for hers when she demanded silence. I was scared to teach in front of her because anything I knew I would do- she would know how to do it better, faster and quicker. I have never felt nervous before standing in front of a class before this woman. She soon got bored of the fact that she had nothing left for me to teach because I absorbed her teaching style and completely plagiarised it. So she invented challenges. I had the task of going into a completely random poor yr 8 class who was on a practical lesson and absolutely yell at them (because believe it or not she thought I was shy and had to prove I could yell). So I did- I wrenched open the door with murder in my eye and I bullocked the socks off them about something I barely can remember and spun on my heel and would have slammed the door if it wasn’t on that stupid controlled hinge thing. Another challenge was to have them lined up in 2 lines outside, marching in, and sitting down and on task in record time all without saying a word.

So that was before the holidays. And now it is the beginning of term 3 and now she is gone- left to go to a school where they all have laptops and lapdog students. Pros and Con’s about her departure: Pro- I can now breathe easy with my new supervisor/HOD of music because she’s a gentle older lady called back from retirement. I also know the roped of the department and she is the one asking questions. Con- I have never been pushed so hard by a supervisor and totally on my toes. She was passionate and couldn’t care less about being politically correct or cynical. She had a job to do and she wanted to do it well. Sound sappy to say- but if I am a little bit like her I’ll be a very good teacher.

So right now because the supervisor is rubbing her weary eyes clean of retirement I have been given the opportunity to be welcomed to the real world of teaching. Its day 2 today and the reliever ran away so I taught a full day (first ever thank you very much) and because my supervisor was trying to interpret the new manual for her new computer I had the freedom of teaching my style to students I have built a rapport with and somehow that ended up with me on a desk demonstrating how to play the drums. And I loved it. I absolutely loved it. And that’s a bit of a relief because my poor parents have invested a bit in this degree.

So now I’ve proved my point- I spent 1159 words to tell you about my Prac- that’s not including the words I need to actually prove I was on it to my lecturers.

Children

2009-07-25T00:47:00.000-07:00

I used to run a few holiday programs. And where the programs were based there was this amazing wall. And the only way to legally take the kids pics against it- was if I incorperated a photoshoot into the progam. sneaky. It seems also semester I come back from college there is an additional family member- so included in this blog are some 2nd cousin shots too.

I am both Sepia and in Color. This is a Gen Y Lament.

2009-07-14T05:02:00.000-07:00

Its 7am and I’m in a cafe watching the sun rise already supping on my 3rd coffee waiting for the moment where I have to walk to where the bell tolls for me and time waits for no man.

You can tell I’m very much made of the Gen Y mould, as I’m over it. Only 5 weeks in and I’m ready for a change.

Perhaps this lament is inspired by reading the Viva section of our herald featuring an article about 20 something females doing ‘it’ all and doing ‘it’ now.

“It” being Art. Whether its photography, writing, acting, painting, designing or all everything, ‘It’s” Art. And I want in.

Right now all I teach is music. All day. Everyday.
Truly it’s great when I’m not in the mood I’m in now. But while I’m feeling it, I will write, and then I will never forget I was once inspired and idealistic.

Here’s the magnet: Music is my reality, but art is the force that is attracting me to my true self.

All this reading about the photographer for the Frankie mag makes me want it. The fight, the competition, the industry battle. The lights, the action and me being the one to say it.

I want to live in Barcelona in a crumbly old shack (totally idealised I’m aware- the crumbly and Barcelona combination is probably not that attractive in reality- but for now when everything is more textured and coloured with lazy hues in my dreams, I want it) and paint. I want to be the photographer for the covers of the Frankie mag (I have already done a few I could choose from to last at least 4 months). I want to teach art to tired old men and bring passion and reason (the purpose kind- not reality based). I want to battle it out for exhibitions and show my work in the Biennale di Venezia.

Or at the very bare minimum least- I want to have paint splatters as my manicure again. The closest I get to art.....is whiteboard markers.

I think this entire lament really truly boils down to teaching from some shockingly designed year level workbooks. They range from all colours of the rainbow for easy visibility and have centred size 12 Times New Roman font with pixilated images and clip art borders. It’s clearly depressing. Surely it’s not regarded as quality Duty of Care and correct transmission of curriculum to teach content from such ugly manuals? (Yikes, I’m aware I sound like a gay man on a labour site).

Perhaps this is also me flexing my newly built graduate teacher wings and planning my school domination.
Next yr I will teach (wait.... ((word change)) inspire....!) from books with all the correct aesthetic principals and I will be paid (albeit minuscule- which is a fortune when you have nada) to do it. Wow.

But for now I shall go against my very Gen Y nature and stop idealizing and settle back to my current reality and wait till I have the guts to pay a dog to eat everyone’s homework.

Random Inspiration

2009-06-07T01:03:00.000-07:00

Snaps of freedom, passion and beauty.

Early in the morning is precious. Its really living. This morning the fog was out. God had placed the best filters in the sky and I wore barefeet.

This was taken at the residental banquet at college. That year I was the yearbook photographer. I also have the habit of lying down to a)get the right angle and b0 resting while getting the right angle.

Hands. They are raw, naked and honest. You can't hide them. They do everything, They are emotive. You can tell so much by a persons hands. These are kush's hands. I don't even think she will remember this shot. She was mid-gesture, in a heated moment talking about what she was going to speak about at church that weekend.

The VW, beauty, perfection and my passion. This was taken on christmas day 08. We were volunteering at a soup kitchen and when we were walking out I saw this car and melted. I have had a mild obsession with vw's since I knew what a car was. My dad is a Hot Rodder with a garage bigger than his house- so a daughter with a vw fetish doesn't bode well for his fourtune.

Anyway I ran up to this car and the nice old couple inside, gushed a bit and nearly got batted over the head with the lady's umbrella. Perhaps I took it too far. Anyway I got this pic.

Time to get yo' praise own

2009-06-05T05:04:00.000-07:00

So Im switiching it on and switching it off.
Breathing it in and breathing it out.

Im sick of complaining and being cranky and sensitive to anything negative. NO MORE!
I was going to write a note last week that....well complained really. About everything.

but HA.

Stick it.

So here it is.

I am loving this semester. I have 3 classes and 2 of them are Visual Arts ones. Rough I know.

My studio class has lead me down an interesting track- I was entirely schitzophrenic (I know I can't spell) and couldn't decide on a "thing" till I was wrestling with it so much that I *gasp* actually thought to give it to God and BOOM! Its now his and what I'm doing now is too great and intelligent that I couldn't have done it in my own strength, haha- truth, it actually has maths everywhere- I figured out the golden mean of the tabernacle to see if it matches up with Fibbonaci's philosphy of numbers and turned it into an abstract series.

We have a exhabition on June the 3rd. My first one. you see us teachers wern't supposed to be part of the graduating exabition cause its just for the BA's, so pish pash to that- and we have started our own one. And Im proud to be a part of such a multifaceted talented artists clan. seriously I think that we are on the brink of greatness here. You need to see it.

Speaking of multifaceted, I love that God has created in me (in all of us) multifacets. I love that I am not just one side of a box. There is a crazy art freak in me, a SAM leader/turn up to church board meetings late/meet with the president and embarass myself in me, a teacher who want's to teach rascals, a girl whos just a tad scared to grow up, a musician that needs to do more, and a operation hotness in me.
But I guess what I love more than....well multifaceted me.. haha, is the fact that God has created friends that meet all my needs. And that is total truth. Some may not be the best influence on me and some might be to much of a good influence, but still I have friends that I can call mine and for that I am entirely grateful.

Also I am free. here we are in a world that is in total bondage, I think of Joseph Kony's invisible children, the AIDS victams, orphans still waiting, those torn by war, those in spirtual captivity and those in my backyard in bondage of their own making.
I have this gift of freedom but with blessings come burdens so I am also grateful for my journey that I am now equipped to help in whatever way I am lead.

So there.
I am making a public pact to this week stop getting down when Im looking up. Seriously, I have such a temptation to be cynical and disappointed and ....well whatever. So NO MORE!

...and I encourage you to get yo' praise on too.

Lets be a magnet for attraction, not distraction.

Toni and David

2009-05-01T04:08:00.000-07:00

I grew up with Toni and her 2 boys- Aiden (her son) was my partner to my first school ball. She is an passionate, intelligent woman and to see her married to a crazy man that matches her stride for stride makes me believe in love finding you wherever your at.

NZ moments

2009-02-22T15:43:00.000-08:00

These photo's were taken at home- in NZ.

When I was on Prac at Orewa College, I would get a lift with Dad. He would drop me off at the local beach and I would start the day right.

These photo's were taken at the marina at the end of my road.

Theology and Ministry Graduation Class 08.

2008-11-10T01:37:00.000-08:00

This was an 'accident' shoot. My sister was graduating and asked me to go along as the 'mum' to watch her get her photo taken. So I truddled along with a book, perched myself at a park bench, held all her stuff and was content to watch from afar. Until she ran up to me in desperation- the professional photographer they booked never turned up. So insert me.

Beaches around australia

2008-08-12T04:11:00.000-07:00

Ok I'll admit. I may prefer Australian beaches. Here's some beaches and sea scapes around australia.

Melissa and Cameron

2008-06-08T04:01:00.000-07:00

She was my first friend I had in Australia. I remember lying on the floor of my room, tears streaming down our faces as we poared out our hearts or dreams and fears. One of her dreams- to be married. I also remember the first night she got asked to go for a walk by Cameron. She raced up and down her stairs in an absolutle frenzy freaking out about what to wear.

Melissa is one of the most- in fact THE most talented pianists I know. I am so proud of her. She's normally quite pleasent, and soft. Until you hear her on the piano. Then she is fiery, angry, feirce, strong, melencholy, wistful etc... The piano is her voice. This piano was played as she walked down the aisle.

Sydney

2008-03-03T04:16:00.000-08:00

I love Sydney, in spurts- meaning very small day excursion doses.

This photo has been by far my most successful photo's I have ever taken- it has got me shortlisted for a few things in australia- but Im not a citizan.

Sometimes to get the angle. You have to wear the angle.

I met this woman in a very plush plush loo. She had a fake american accent (along with the fake everything about her). But she was genuine. Contradiction- Im aware of it, but I believe it.

Almost everytime I go to Sydney I see this man. I wish I had the guts to ask about his story.but he did let me photography him.

I thought I would never do it. It wasn't as tall as the NZ one. But I did. Center point tower.

Esther and Sebastion

2008-01-09T01:51:00.000-08:00

Esther is genius. She is a musician. Actually she is music. Hearing her play the cello is like closing your eyes and indulging in the 5 senses at the same time. She has taught me so much. I came into the music department as a scared, compeditive and apathetic flautist and through our deep chats time listening to her, I have fallen in love with music and the power it has- both on the performer and the listener.
Out of our entire group- She was the least likely to get married, and now she is so married, and a mother. Im so proud of her and honoured to know her.

Here's a shoot of her family.

Joy and Luke

2007-12-15T04:03:00.000-08:00

Luke is one of my best friends brothers. He was my partner to my high school ball. Anyway. this wedding was one of my first practice wedding photoshoots. It helps when the bride and the colours are so stunning.

Naomi and David

2007-04-15T04:06:00.000-07:00

I went to college with Naomi. I was playing the fute at her wedding. But during the photography session that I was hovering around at- her husband (a photographer) gave me his camera to 2nd shoot with. I managed to get one image with my camera. One thing I learnt from this photo- the amazing power of natrual light. It was in the afternoon- with amazing long shadows and deep contrasts.