Boxing Day in New Zealand (and most developed places) marks a day of ridiculous shopping, long check out queus, discounted rubbish, maxed out credit cards, excited women and exhausted partners.
I have a great facination with people.
I could even say that I "enjoy" watching humans function in public places and shopping malls.
Today is like a Box Office Hit for 'people' enthusiasts like I.
I went to Ezibuy to buy pants that can fit my swelling belly, only to be pushed and shoved to the side by middle aged women with bargain badges in their wringled eyes.
I find myself saying "oh, sorry!" for her bumping into me.
What i really meant to say is "Oh sorry you are so tragic looking that you are convinced that buying that pink top might improve your self-image".
I moved towards the dressing rooms but find queus and queus of anxious women wanting to try dresses two times smaller.
So i give up and walk to the furthest corner to put on pants under my skirt.
Perfect.
I remove these pants and proceed to the check out queu, oblivious to the women looking at me disusted with my public changing room.
High on our list is baby shopping.
But G-man shruggs "Why don't we wait to find out first if its a girl or a boy?
"But we already know the sex of the baby from the 21 week scan."
It seems like Gman is willing for the growing baby to change its reproductive organs in the next few months.
I hold his hand and assure him we can still buy neutral coloured items,. He shakes his head and walks to the strollers section.
Our relations begin to stray as shops turn into malls into massive department sections and even more queus.
Soon, we no longer hold hands, nor keep eye contact, only striding forward with angry thoughts.
Soon, even people watching takes its toll and i just want to sit down and put my feet up in the middle of the shopping mall.
I look around and realise i am not alone in my misery.
Even men of strenght and bloated egos are reduced to weary-shoppingbag-carriers, yawning and staring into nothingness, lamenting the damage on their credit cards and wishing for the Festive Season to be over already "for farks sake".
Gman dropped me off so i can relax as he returns to Bunnings warehouse to buy some male shet to fiddle with in the garage to remind himself he's got balls, and i hav'nt.
Thank God i'm a warm blooded bitch
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Saturday, December 23, 2006
23 December: Twas the eve of Christmas...almost
And i find myself scolding at the horrible chill in the air.
I have 4 days off work to get a tan and the sun fails to show.
We will be home this Christmas,
Because i don't want to be too far away in my condition.
My belly is getting bigger by the week, and baby tends to do acrobatic flips every time i have anything sweet.
So even now i can't indulge in chocolate during the season of abundance.
WE had our scan 3 weeks ago and we were astounded at how much baby has grown, he/she is definitely here to stay.
I said a silent prayer because there is nothing wrong with baby so far, he/she has two hands, 10 fingers, 10 toes, a complete body and and a beautifully beating heart.
So thank God for this blessing in our lives.
Onto more menial things, i had to buy a cheaper version of my work uniform because my $89.00 skirt no longer fits around my stomach and my boobs are popping out of my shirt.Pro
Bebe is due on 24 April...closer to 25th actually....but we'll see how that works out.
I informed my manager that i will leave work on the 13th April to start m.leave.
I really really what to get my job back at the Base, becuase i love working there, the people are awesome and for once i can confidenly say that we are a real team!
So i pray hope that i can get my job back after i have baby.
okay, better get back to work,
Merry Christmas to everyone in the world and My the New Year bring JOy and Prosperity.
Manuia le Kerisimasi ma le Tausaga Fou
I have 4 days off work to get a tan and the sun fails to show.
We will be home this Christmas,
Because i don't want to be too far away in my condition.
My belly is getting bigger by the week, and baby tends to do acrobatic flips every time i have anything sweet.
So even now i can't indulge in chocolate during the season of abundance.
WE had our scan 3 weeks ago and we were astounded at how much baby has grown, he/she is definitely here to stay.
I said a silent prayer because there is nothing wrong with baby so far, he/she has two hands, 10 fingers, 10 toes, a complete body and and a beautifully beating heart.
So thank God for this blessing in our lives.
Onto more menial things, i had to buy a cheaper version of my work uniform because my $89.00 skirt no longer fits around my stomach and my boobs are popping out of my shirt.Pro
Bebe is due on 24 April...closer to 25th actually....but we'll see how that works out.
I informed my manager that i will leave work on the 13th April to start m.leave.
I really really what to get my job back at the Base, becuase i love working there, the people are awesome and for once i can confidenly say that we are a real team!
So i pray hope that i can get my job back after i have baby.
okay, better get back to work,
Merry Christmas to everyone in the world and My the New Year bring JOy and Prosperity.
Manuia le Kerisimasi ma le Tausaga Fou
Friday, December 01, 2006
1st December 2006
I have not posted in several months on this page, so i figured today is as good as any to get back into cyberspace and type my soul out.
We've moved house, from Hamilton East to St Andrews.
We bought a three bedroom house on English St, 5 minutes from the Base Shopping Centre on a very quite street but pretty much next to everything.
It only just occured to us recently that we're shopping at the largest New World in NZ and the largest Warehouse in Australasia....not that it changes the Made in China price tags anyway.
Mom came over last week and spent a week with us,.
She sewed a few things for me. We had an awesome time catching up and doing absolutely nothing, for a change.
Satuu's Rugby team were also in Auckland for some Auckland tournaments.
Sinave came along and went to see a Doctor regarding his epileptic condition.
Something tells me the doctor he is seeing is not a Medical doctor but one of those Otara Chinaman nutters using curry leaves and tiger balm for treatment.
Anyhow, the whole thing was a disruption because the so-called doctor adviced that Sinave needed 3 more weeks for so-called treatment (acupuncture included).
For Sinave to stay a further 3 weeks, he needed to have his visa extended and a whole new airfare ticket to be purchased.
And as expected, his reliable father relied on everyone to fork out cash and effort to make this happen.
Albeit being gifted and paid shitloads as the Coach of the team from the numerous Samoans residing in Auckland.
I'm reminded again of why i left these people in the first place.
Ungrateful, inappreciative and the first to criticise and hate when things fall apart.
Completely unconstructive.
Aside from that, the relations in Auckland are robbed of needed finances to pay their own bills and sustain themselves.
Its a very depriving vicious cycle.
It is all about a very few who give give give, and the majority who take take and demand more.
So stop wondering why Samoans and Tongans and equally other minorities NEVER succeed and excel in life., because they are too busy trying to give life to the rest of the unplanned overpopulation. and the bloody church.
I sincerely hope that Samoans can learn to move away from church donations and learn to simply chanelled their finances towards their own struggling families.
My hope is that in a few years, people would have woken up and relaise, "Shet, wev'e been screwed all these years, lets all give only 5.00 tala to the church every month!" Until church leaders can no longer sustain their extravagant lifestyles and equally extravagant bellies.
Aside from those thoughts, I've decided now to make this my personal page and use it more often because theres too many people reading my fagogo page,. Many of whom have pickles stuck up their asses who keep sending me hate mails and other annal stuff like that.
Like I give a shet, or two.
okay, better get up and repaint my nails, ive damaged the artwork on some nails thanks to the laptop keys.
Adieu
We've moved house, from Hamilton East to St Andrews.
We bought a three bedroom house on English St, 5 minutes from the Base Shopping Centre on a very quite street but pretty much next to everything.
It only just occured to us recently that we're shopping at the largest New World in NZ and the largest Warehouse in Australasia....not that it changes the Made in China price tags anyway.
Mom came over last week and spent a week with us,.
She sewed a few things for me. We had an awesome time catching up and doing absolutely nothing, for a change.
Satuu's Rugby team were also in Auckland for some Auckland tournaments.
Sinave came along and went to see a Doctor regarding his epileptic condition.
Something tells me the doctor he is seeing is not a Medical doctor but one of those Otara Chinaman nutters using curry leaves and tiger balm for treatment.
Anyhow, the whole thing was a disruption because the so-called doctor adviced that Sinave needed 3 more weeks for so-called treatment (acupuncture included).
For Sinave to stay a further 3 weeks, he needed to have his visa extended and a whole new airfare ticket to be purchased.
And as expected, his reliable father relied on everyone to fork out cash and effort to make this happen.
Albeit being gifted and paid shitloads as the Coach of the team from the numerous Samoans residing in Auckland.
I'm reminded again of why i left these people in the first place.
Ungrateful, inappreciative and the first to criticise and hate when things fall apart.
Completely unconstructive.
Aside from that, the relations in Auckland are robbed of needed finances to pay their own bills and sustain themselves.
Its a very depriving vicious cycle.
It is all about a very few who give give give, and the majority who take take and demand more.
So stop wondering why Samoans and Tongans and equally other minorities NEVER succeed and excel in life., because they are too busy trying to give life to the rest of the unplanned overpopulation. and the bloody church.
I sincerely hope that Samoans can learn to move away from church donations and learn to simply chanelled their finances towards their own struggling families.
My hope is that in a few years, people would have woken up and relaise, "Shet, wev'e been screwed all these years, lets all give only 5.00 tala to the church every month!" Until church leaders can no longer sustain their extravagant lifestyles and equally extravagant bellies.
Aside from those thoughts, I've decided now to make this my personal page and use it more often because theres too many people reading my fagogo page,. Many of whom have pickles stuck up their asses who keep sending me hate mails and other annal stuff like that.
Like I give a shet, or two.
okay, better get up and repaint my nails, ive damaged the artwork on some nails thanks to the laptop keys.
Adieu
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
When I think of Home...
.JPG)
Nature....
The sea....
The irritating little kids that won't let you be....
(This is one of my favourite photos, which i got off Jackie's collection from her trip to Samoa,. she took this in Manono Island.)...merci!!!
And Most of All, my Aiga!!!....
Sei POlynesia Dance Group
In the beginning
In the midst of 2005, Cilla Brown and I sat down at a coffee shop on Kroad, and set about our grand plans to establish a dance group in New Zealand.
Why?
As former dancers for Samoa Tourism who both travelled to promote Samoan culture, we both share a passion for dance, and for Samoa.
Obviously, we have moved on from Samoa Tourism and have now focussed on our own lives and jobs, but the urge to don the puletasi once again pushed us to start something fantastic.
Samoan Dance, My Perspective
Samoan dancing is generally seen in New Zealand mainstream as 'dull, boring hand movements, with the occasional slap dance by men".
From where i was standing, the appeal of Samoan dancing was the grace in the movement, the physical attributes in the dancer, the music that liven the show and the assecories that completed the dance.
These key aspects of an inspiring samoan dance is largely absent in New Zealand.
What is more common is the haste unsmiling robotic dance moves that can lull the audience to sleep. The physical attributes are usually of largess physiques draped in poorly sewn, tacky coloured 'Made in Taiwan' poplin uniforms.
It is suffice to say that watching a Samoan youth group in Auckland is a sad portrait of Samoan people. The words obese springs to mind.
Doing it right
Samoan dance must be expressed, not taught.
Samoan dancers must be able to move freely and not restrained by being unfit.
In saying this, I have met many slim dancers who get exhausted after 30 minutes of rehersal.
Regardless of size, Samoan Dancers must be prepared to endure dance practices with decorum, commitment and enthusiasm.
In the midst of 2005, Cilla Brown and I sat down at a coffee shop on Kroad, and set about our grand plans to establish a dance group in New Zealand.
Why?
As former dancers for Samoa Tourism who both travelled to promote Samoan culture, we both share a passion for dance, and for Samoa.
Obviously, we have moved on from Samoa Tourism and have now focussed on our own lives and jobs, but the urge to don the puletasi once again pushed us to start something fantastic.
Samoan Dance, My Perspective
Samoan dancing is generally seen in New Zealand mainstream as 'dull, boring hand movements, with the occasional slap dance by men".
From where i was standing, the appeal of Samoan dancing was the grace in the movement, the physical attributes in the dancer, the music that liven the show and the assecories that completed the dance.
These key aspects of an inspiring samoan dance is largely absent in New Zealand.
What is more common is the haste unsmiling robotic dance moves that can lull the audience to sleep. The physical attributes are usually of largess physiques draped in poorly sewn, tacky coloured 'Made in Taiwan' poplin uniforms.
It is suffice to say that watching a Samoan youth group in Auckland is a sad portrait of Samoan people. The words obese springs to mind.
Doing it right
Samoan dance must be expressed, not taught.
Samoan dancers must be able to move freely and not restrained by being unfit.
In saying this, I have met many slim dancers who get exhausted after 30 minutes of rehersal.
Regardless of size, Samoan Dancers must be prepared to endure dance practices with decorum, commitment and enthusiasm.
Matariki Wearable Arts
With Gui during the Matariki Wearable Arts Night in Hamilton
Well, we did have a bit of time to spare backstage...heh
Well, we did have a bit of time to spare backstage...heh
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Zinedine For Life
Gui mourns the Frenh loss on the Soccer Finals, but stubbornly faithful to
Zizou- "Made in Marseille"
Zizou- "Made in Marseille"
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Of rotting leaves and choking new baby chicks
Back when we were drinking the juices of rotting leaves and choking new born chicks just to watch them squeal, life seemed so wonderful and stressfree. I was almost six.
Omega was eight, Diana, seven, Cherelle, five and Sinave, still a toddler in our care, crawling after us, chewing wandering worms until we noticed and slap it off his dirty fingers.
I return to the blogging world with a renewed zest for life, not quite matured, slightly emancipated, vaguely clueless and forever sentimental, in an amateurish sort of rhythm that captures you and then squashes you gleefully with mismatched ideals and distressing thoughts.
In the past three weeks, we have bought a home, detested the minus two degrees frost in the morning, failed to fix my car heater, dined in Auckland’s Wildfire and woke to the distasteful hours of the morning to a certain French cry for Zinedine Zidane.
Who remains immortal albeit a head butt.
Clearly, the French need heroes, with anger management classes made compulsory for soccer superstars.
In the midst of all this, we celebrated our one year anniversary, being appreciative of the fact that we have come a long way from working shit jobs to make ends meet away from our families in a foreign place. Life has improved immensely.
A year ago, I was a virgin.
Okay, I lie.
A year ago, I married Frenchy (real name Guillaume but NZers couldn't pronounce that, so Frenchy it is) in Marseille under the brilliant Mediterranean sky, witnessed by families and friends.
Many want to relive their wedding days.
I don’t.
A writer once wrote “A thing of Beauty is joy forever, its loveliness increases, it will never pass”. Beauty being the joining of two hearts, the bonding that lasts, the marriage that says ‘I will never have sex with another human being’.
Yes indeed, that is the hope.
The certainty is uncertain
The guarantee is absent.
But the challenge lie with two people making that commitment.
Without sounding like a broken record, I return now to my dreamlike thoughts of
Back when we were fishing out of tin cans, soaked with mud water, tanned by leisurely hours of sunshine, awaiting the grown ups at sea, anticipating what they bring, be it sea urchins, small fishes, seashells, jellyfish or a smack in the face and a guarantee that your tiny neck will break if you don’t wash off the mud, go home and read your Holy Bible.
Omega was eight, Diana, seven, Cherelle, five and Sinave, still a toddler in our care, crawling after us, chewing wandering worms until we noticed and slap it off his dirty fingers.
I return to the blogging world with a renewed zest for life, not quite matured, slightly emancipated, vaguely clueless and forever sentimental, in an amateurish sort of rhythm that captures you and then squashes you gleefully with mismatched ideals and distressing thoughts.
In the past three weeks, we have bought a home, detested the minus two degrees frost in the morning, failed to fix my car heater, dined in Auckland’s Wildfire and woke to the distasteful hours of the morning to a certain French cry for Zinedine Zidane.
Who remains immortal albeit a head butt.
Clearly, the French need heroes, with anger management classes made compulsory for soccer superstars.
In the midst of all this, we celebrated our one year anniversary, being appreciative of the fact that we have come a long way from working shit jobs to make ends meet away from our families in a foreign place. Life has improved immensely.
A year ago, I was a virgin.
Okay, I lie.
A year ago, I married Frenchy (real name Guillaume but NZers couldn't pronounce that, so Frenchy it is) in Marseille under the brilliant Mediterranean sky, witnessed by families and friends.
Many want to relive their wedding days.
I don’t.
A writer once wrote “A thing of Beauty is joy forever, its loveliness increases, it will never pass”. Beauty being the joining of two hearts, the bonding that lasts, the marriage that says ‘I will never have sex with another human being’.
Yes indeed, that is the hope.
The certainty is uncertain
The guarantee is absent.
But the challenge lie with two people making that commitment.
Without sounding like a broken record, I return now to my dreamlike thoughts of
Back when we were fishing out of tin cans, soaked with mud water, tanned by leisurely hours of sunshine, awaiting the grown ups at sea, anticipating what they bring, be it sea urchins, small fishes, seashells, jellyfish or a smack in the face and a guarantee that your tiny neck will break if you don’t wash off the mud, go home and read your Holy Bible.
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