I’m mad, utterly mad


I stole this picture of my sisters instagram…mainly because I spilt a cup of coffee on my phone so it now refuses to upload photos I take. Whatever, that’s cool. I’ve spent the last few days in Hamilton looking after the little sis who’s had an operation (she’s fine, nothing major). It’s strange being, once again, back in the house I moved into a year ago. I can’t believe how much I’ve achieved in one year and how different things are now! I’ve been rather adamant about not being one of those people who come back from travelling and say ‘I’ve changed’. But I can’t help it. I’m different. I’m still every bit me but I’m the me I’ve ignored for a long time. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it on here, but before I came back and walked into what turned into a blind-siding flip of my life, there was this moment in France.

Tom had left to spend the afternoon at the pub and I’d opted to have a me day. I’d just finished watching the rugby and I went to do the dishes only to find the sink totally blocked. I’ve had a blocked sink while I’ve been flatting, a number of times, I should probably stop expecting food to fit down it… but every time I’d called someone to fix it. Not because I couldn’t fix it, but it was easier to just get someone to do it for me. But stuck in a house with no internet, no one around to bounce ideas off, nothing. I had nothing. I’ll admit it took me an hour to realise there was a part of the pipe under the sink I could unscrew to empty the blockage (into a bucket of course, I’m smart sometimes), but there was this strange sense of achievement as I watched the water empty out and my problem vanish. I did it all myself. I’d always been able to do it myself, I just never thought I could.

So I was standing in this little kitchen in a house in the middle of a quiet, well actually silent, street in the middle of a small North West town in France. I stood and I laughed and I laughed until I couldn’t stop. And I suddenly realised all the things I was worried about, all the things in life that stopped me chasing my dreams; none of it mattered. I was going to be just fine. I was fine on my own.

I don’t know why I had that moment, perhaps I subconsciously knew more about my unravelling life than I cared to admit, but from that moment I haven’t felt the fear I used to about my life.

There are a lot of things you learn travelling: how to get yourself un-lost with no help and no maps without the use of English, how to order food with a dietary requirement without using language…the list of stuff goes on. But there are these incredible moments like in Vietnam, I went out around 10pm in Hoi An, it’s a small beach town that’s insanely pretty, and I just wandered around. The street was lit with these large lanterns, people talked loudly, some rode around on bikes, floating candles shone in different colours across the canal. It was one of the moment beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Or when I was in Ho Chi Minh city and a group of girls took me around in the evening. There’s this big street just for people to hang out and walk up and down. Buildings tower over it with bright neon lights and offices lit up. People gather to sing and drink coffee and just be there. In a city full of rush and business they’re just there because they can be. And as I rode around on the back of their motorbikes in a monsoon shower I couldn’t help but realise just how incredible life is. For the first time in my life I stopped worrying about what the future might look like and I started loving my now. And I kept loving my now the whole way around the world.

I never want to lose that, the feeling of freedom and bliss that life is going to be just fine.

So the other night at 11pm I ran off to the beach just to talk and dance and run and do cartwheels (which I fail at). Because life is amazing and it’s so easy to get caught up in what we ‘should’ be or what it ‘should’ look like. I don’t want to lose the craziness or the spontaneous fun I had travelling just because I’m home. New Zealand is an incredible country and life should be lived in the same manner people travel in; just have fun. I’m young and even when I’m not, I’m still entitled to enjoy the little things in life, to embrace my crazy mad side. I’m mad, utterly mad.

And I love it.


Back from worn out

I have battled for many years with my skin. Too oily, too dry, too dull, too many blemishes, it never seems to agree with me. I have worn makeup almost every single day since I was 15 years old. After discovering the whole thyroid thing I changed up my diet and things got better.

I never stopped to think to change my makeup.

I found a good affordable brand that would give me all day cover and was one of the few that didn’t make me look like I had bathed in lemons.

Everyone has comforted me about my oily skin by saying “at least you won’t get wrinkles easily!” So you can imagine my utter horror when at 20, I began to notice fine lines and a very ‘worn out’ look. I am well aware that these were only visible to myself… but that does not mean they did not exist! Someone actually laughed at me when I mentioned it. I wasn’t being sarcastic. No, I have waited this long to have ‘great skin’ for my age and I refuse to end up with worn out looking skin when I still have blemishes! That is simply not fair.

So we’re going natural.

I figure if I’m eating healthy, reducing sugar, chemicals, drinking awful detox tea, living in the country, avoiding doctor’s medication for a natural course of treatment… I might as well jump on the natural makeup bandwagon.

Natural moisturizer was the first stop. Second was the concealer, now I’ve added a bb cream, and today I am hoping to purchase my first natural powder. It is a rather painful for the bank account sort of change, but in the two days so far, I no longer look like I’m on the verge of having a stress induced breakdown, and am hoping next time out I actually get ID’d.

My initial hesitance has now gone completely out the window.

Though… after nearly choking on a piece of mandarin… I’m not too sure if the whole healthy eating thing is the safer option.


Hair dyeing and a wise mother

As a teenager I never listened to my mother. To be totally honest I don’t know anyone who did. One thing though out of the many we disagreed on was hair dyeing. She loved my, as I called it ‘normal and boring’ brown hair. “BUT MUM! You’re my mum! Of course you like my hair!” I would mutter, or yell, sometimes shout while stamping and crying. 

I was an emotional pre-teen and teen. Well, I can’t really say was. But I like to think I have my emotions under a bit more control now…

So, reluctantly she let me streak my hair before I left for Tech. That was that. I was stuck on changing the colour of my hair.

I should have listened to my mother.

Dyeing my hair was never a good idea. 

Now, it seems to think that because I dyed it dark brown, it will spite me and fade to a brilliant orange. If I was aiming to have bright shinny orange hair I’d be luckier than a leprechaun at the end of rainbow. I’m NOT aiming to have bright orange hair.

Naturally I am a deep brunette colour. I like it a little darker than it is naturally. BUT I have now resigned myself to final admittance that I want my natural, carefree, easi-peasie hair colour. 

So back to the salon (because home hair dyeing really just makes matters worse…and I’m running out of towels to ruin) for the next stage of the ‘restore and grow out all orange colour’ mission.

Oh why do I not listen to my mother?