Oh goodness, what a month! I’m still finding it difficult to find the momentum to keep going, even though I’m SO CLOSE! 35 to go! Madness, I can’t believe I’ve taken that many photos of myself, really. This month was all about projects, I did the Week of Upside Down, and the Week of Reflections. I definitely wasn’t feeling the Week of Reflections, and was pretty disappointed in the photos I took, but ah well.

What have I done this month? I went to Waiheke for the Blues Fest, I discovered how to make an amazing (almost) foolproof Carrot Cake. I mailed some letters, took part in my first (less than) subtlemob, and snuck into the semi-permanent after party. I’ve had a stupid amount of cocktails, taken up an interest in Jazz at the bar on Thursday nights. I watched Lyth play League (and freaked out when he temporarily went mad and tackled people bigger than he). I volunteered for Habitat for Humanity. I got my portfolio up and running. I submitted an expensive and scary visa application, and started a Couch to 5ks attempt and drank cocktails from teapots.

Another month passed. One more and I’ll be done. Goodness, what an idea . . .

1st of August 2010 to 31st August 2010. 330 down. 35 to go.

Past Months: October, November, December, January, February, March, April, May, June, July.

There is this guy that I read, Ryan from Pacing the Panic Room. He’s a pretty good guy, I think. A brilliant guy, figuring out how to get his photography career off the ground, doing the best for his family, doing so in a funny and clever way. An all round stand up guy, really.

His step-son, LB, has Smith Magenis Syndrome. What I love about Ryan, is that on his blog he seperates the boy from the syndrome, while still acknowledging that LB has it. LB is a boy. He just also happens to be a boy that has SMS. A sweet, gorgeous little character. Though sometimes the glimpses he allows into LB’s life, well, it sounds hard. And I admire the attitude that Ryan and his wife Cole have. Like I said, an all round stand up guy.

To help spread awareness about SMS, and to raise funds, Ryan, with his music connections (as a record label guy, booking manager for clubs – he’s got an interesting past!) has put together an album. A KIDS album. An amazing kids album, actually. A kids album for parents too, the kind that is okay to listen to, and doesn’t make you want to tear your face off. No seriously.

100% of the proceeds from the sale of this album will be used to establish a SMS Research Fellowship that funds a graduate student to study SMS and support the SMS community.

Sounds good, right?

If you want to know more, visit pacingthepanicroom.blogspot.com.

If you wanna get on the bandwagon, get the cute green monster widget that plays the tracks, directs you to itunes and tells you where to make a donation? Go to dofunstuff.net or click “Share this widget” on the monster above for the code.

If not, that’s cool too. I like the idea of making a difference, but not everyone is into rocking the boat. However, I’m pretty sure most of you ARE into helping brilliant causes. So, please, visit dofunstuff.net. Check out their cause. Listen to the tracks. Buy the album. Learn. Love. And Do Fun Stuff.

There seems to be an awful lot of awkwardness around buying a girl a drink. It was something I never noticed until recently. For me buying someone a drink, was always just that, just a drink. It never had any hidden motives, or came with intentions. I’m fairly comfortable, money wise and my friends and I are incredibly generous with each other. But after hanging out at the bar, I realised that not everyone had my attitude towards buying drinks.

There’s the boy that quietly, without much fanfare places a pretty coloured something at my elbow. He knows what I drink, and what I like and what I don’t. And he quietly, unobtrusively takes care of me. I think its a sweet, and let him (even though we both know I don’t really need taking care of).

There’s the boy that prefers to go dutch, but only tells you so by purchasing his own drink, not offering to get you one, which is fine. He blusters instead, when I offer to get the second round. He has baggage, I think. A weird idea of what buying a drink means.

There’s the boy that puts on a show, bringing out his credit card with a flourish and a loud ‘I’ll get this’ when it comes time to pay. He won’t let me get a round, and I think this is some misguided attempt at wooing.

There’s the boy that is as blase as I am, I get one round, he gets the next. Theres the boy who decides to order for me, and barely holds in his distaste when I tell him that I’m not a fan of red. There’s the boy who uses a tab card, and the one who uses what coinage he has left in his pocket, and there’s the boy that drinks water, but orders me a wine.

It seems that buying a girl a drink now comes with all sorts of indicators to the type of person they are. I’d never really thought much on it, before, and even though it seems a little rude to judge a person based on how they buy me a drink, I really can’t help myself.

Is the boy who buys a wine with change just getting rid of his coinage? Or is an indicator of his financial standings? Ditto the boy with the credit card – is he getting himself further in debt, spending large to impress girls in bars? Is the boy who gets his round with little fuss as really as laid back as I think he is?

Does it matter?

In the end, I think the kind of people they are will come out. A drink is often followed by conversation and what they are looking for, they kind of person they are will inevitably come to light soon enough.

I discovered that the boy that pays with coins is an art student, last year in a film degree. The boy that was blase about rounds did appear to be just as laid back about everything else, and the boy who flourished his credit card really wasn’t very good at making small talk.

I know you shouldn’t judge book by its cover, but sometimes? It’s hard not to, especially when the contents confirm that actually? The cover art isn’t as great as you thought it was.

Disclaimer: I wrote this for the 20sb’s Carnival. I didn’t post it in time to actually be part of the carnival, but it seems a shame to not post it.

About four years ago, I used to work in this shitty admin job, on a shitty wage. It was a job that made me miserable, and paid worse. I was constantly trying to figure out whether I wanted to eat that week, or whether I should pay my share of the power bill. Whether I could live on the icecream that was in the freezer until I got paid. McDonalds for lunch was splurging. Stealing Siblings clothes was how I filled my wardrobe. But I was happy, I was living in the city in a cute little (shared with friends and therefore discounted) apartment, being marvelously independent. I didn’t have any debts, Student Loan aside. Poor didn’t seem so bad then.

But I wasn’t exactly blind. Oh hai friends! It was hard to not to see how the people I graduated with lived. Starting on 60k salaries, with regular pay reviews. They were buying DSLR’s and making trips to Australia and thought nothing of dropping a few hundred on drinks on a Friday Night. I tended to ignore the differences in lifestyle. I had what I had, and I was grateful for it. I held fiercely tight to my financial independence, and was glad. I couldn’t grudge what my friends had worked hard for.

About this time I fell madly in love. Madly, head over heels for this boy and as you do when you love someone, their life merges up with yours. We earned about the same, and a wild Friday night out was snuggling up in bed with pizza watching downloaded movies. We were living the high life.

Then, almost two years ago, I got a job worthy of my degree. A job that used the brains I had, with people who weren’t bitchy and horrible. A job that put my previous wage to shame by giving me a salary that put me on par with the peers I graduated with. But somehow, I still was poor. I was paying car fines that weren’t mine, paying out for food, or games or clothes for this boy that I was still so madly in love with. When you’re in love, money doesn’t matter because you’re making it work, right? Sure I can put gas in your car, no problem. You need new x,y,z? Sure! I’ll get it. You don’t have enough to cover the $400 rent payment this week? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it, I love you. I love you so much, I’ll take care of it, together we’ll get by. We’ll make it work.

We moved back home, to save money. And about this time I started supporting my sister too, providing a couple hundred a month, so she wouldn’t have to get a student loan. Taking on more of the household bills, as members of my family lost their jobs. Helping out where I could. Trucking on. Me and two minute noodles were fast friends, now. I was earning more money, but it seemed that the people I was supporting, and the money I was spending increased at the same rate.

Oh hai friends, with your investment property deposits, and new cars. Taking up expensive extreme sports (diving, heli-boarding, kite surfing) that look brilliant. Their fancy new machines weren’t grudged, and I was happy that they lived as they did (and happy they were willing to let me watch movies on their projectors and play their new ps3 games). There was minor jealousy, but nothing worth writing home about. There would be nights out, we’d dance and drink, and I’d sneak off home early, back to the boy I loved who was probably playing a lovely cheap night of TF2. And as long as I was rich in the world of love, what else mattered, right?

Yeah, that phrase makes me want to vomit too.

When we broke up, I was heartbroken. Devastated. But surprise, surprise, suddenly I had cash pouring out my ears. Me and alcohol struck up a healthy relationship to deal with some of that. I stopped stealing Siblings clothes when I realised that hey! I could afford an entire new wardrobe. When my stomach protested loud enough, I ditched two minute noodles in favour of $20 Cafe lunches, and dinners in restaurants that had raving reviews and ridiculous prices. Movies, fancy breakfasts, adventures, here was my eftpos card. Take it away. While I was grieving, money was not an issue.

Oh hai friends! Anything you want to do, I’m keen. There were snow trips. And shopping sprees. And Behind the Scenes Zoo tours. There was shiny new machinery, giant screens, ergonomic keyboards. A stupid amount of shoes. A ridiculously stupid amount of shoes.

Eventually, I got over it and came to my senses. I still eat two minute noodles occasionally, but I don’t have to. But all that excess money? Its now being directed into a savings account. An account that is going to fund some serious serious adventures at the end of this year. I’m thinking Canada, or Italy, or London. Or all three (why not?) It’s an account that’s going to take a serious chunk out of my Student Loan. An account that actually? Is me finally being sensible and smart. Ish.

I got a pretty sweet 77 on Charles Schwab’s new financial fitness check-up tool. I feel like I’m finally living financially smart, within my means. I have enough to eat, without having to negotiate whether the power bill can wait a week or two, without wondering how long I can go before I really do have get my car a warrant. Enough to go out to dinner every week, or have a few drinks without it breaking the bank, or ending in tears. Enough so I’m not living pay check to pay check anymore.

It’s a pretty fancy feeling. Grown up, and responsible. Ish. I still buy shoes all the time. Occasionally, if I’m having a down day, I might blow a few hundred on some super nice sunglasses, but theres nothing wrong with the occasional impulse buy, right?

How are you with your money? Do you impulse buy, too?

About a month ago now, I and a few others went on a snow trip. It was a really mad thing to do, mostly because the week before the entire office fell sick, leaving me to handle three peoples worth of work. I was also in complete denial about being sick myself, because oh! I wanted to go to the snow, dammit. And I was going to go.

And I did. And oh yes, what a bad idea that was. By the end of the first day I was hanging off the chairlift trying to figure out which way the wind was going, so on the likely chance that I vomited I could hopefully do it in a direction that would miss the people behind me, anyone below me, and the others on my chair.

Yeah, I’m that classy.

I was nauseous, and exhausted, and my body refused to work. The last run down the mountain I was on the ground more than I was on my feet, and each time it got harder and harder to get up. Shame on me, once I got to the lower mountain I actually took a chair down.

The chair. Down the mountain. Thats how bad it was.

Needless to say the next day I did not go riding. I should have made the effort (because oh! Blue skies! No wind! 10cm’s of fresh stuff on trail!), but I didn’t. And the brilliant, amazing, best friend ever, Lyth, instead of asking me to sit in the cafe while he enjoyed the good stuff (which is what I prolly would have asked of him) instead took me home.

And because I was half gutted, half resigned and feeling rather guilty I was determined to make the drive back a Fun Trip. Capital F. Capital T.

Lucky that Lyth is such a good sport. And even though I was sore, and sick and gutted, I was determined.

First there was jumping shots. There were jumping shots in Motuoapa, in Taupo, and in a few other random places. Pretty much everywhere we stopped, really.

We stopped at Huka Falls, which is a mad amount of water running through a gorge at really really mad speeds. The Waikato goes from about 100 metres across to about 15 . . . its pretty insane, really.

Next up had to be the stupidest, most idiotic idea I’ve ever had. I decided that as we weren’t riding, we should do something adventurous. Like, climb up onto a wire 15 metres in the sky, and walk along it. How convenient that Rock’n'ropes was just down the road from Huka falls.

Oh yeah. From the ground it looked easy. No problem. Once I was up there? I had a panic attack and cried. I’m definitely not a super hero. I was sick, and sore from the day before, and you’d think that I would have realised this before climbing up there. Lyth on the other hand put me to shame and made it look like childs play.

Definitely one of the more idiotic things I’ve done. It was hard, too. Mentally, and physically. Also, my arms were much much too short, and I was constantly trying to figure out how I was going to reach the next vine without letting go of the last one. Needless to say, in the end I didn’t succeed. I fell, and panicked. And when I was on the ground? I just lay there for a good little while, glad to be back on the ground.

After that I definitely wasn’t keen on any high-energy off-the-ground adventures. The next stop was the Prawn Park, which is a place that breeds prawns in the geothermic waters. We didn’t fish for prawns, but we did walk around and look at some of the random art and things. We rode on water bikes (though Lyth broke the chain on one, whoops!) and we fed Trout in the Waikato, which mostly involved throwing pellets off a bridge, and hoping that fish came.

It was good day, really. My being sick kicked in just after this, and I think I slept most of the way home. Definitely a mad weekend trip away, with much adventuring to be had. I’m glad I got to see some of Taupo’s tourist spots. I think sometimes when you’re daydreaming about overseas adventures, its easy to forget the ones that are in your own backyard.

My weekends are generally pretty mad – there’s always something on, something to look forward to or get dressed up for. This weekend? There was cocktails in teapots, and less-than-subtle subtlemobs, platonic hand holding, and cocktails at the sexy new Third and Social.

There were midnight SOS calls, and getting lost out West, and watching League games where good friends act like lunatics and try tackle people bigger than them. There was sneaking into design conference after parties, and admiring art installations.

And then, dear internet, there was cake.

I made this. Or rather, me and The Fourth Quarter made it. And it was amazing. It took some doing, and there was more than one attempt at getting a cream cheese icing that looked like, you know, icing. We laughed at Top Gear, and settled at The Second Quarters house in front of the fire and ate delicious, amazing cake.

It was a good weekend. How was yours?

I need some help, guys. I agreed that I would design posters + flyers for a bar. But you know what? I generally design for web. Web sites? Easy, no problem. I can design you a sweet little pretty site without too much stress.

But graphic design? This is a new fangled beast which I don’t overly understand. I don’t have any training in design, I figured out web design by trial and error. Yes this works, no it doesn’t. And I have an okay eye, I think. I can tell when a site isn’t as tight or as clean as it could be.

But poster design? *pulls face* I don’t know what I’m looking at. I don’t know how to achieve the look I’m going for. I don’t understand why it feels wrong, why it doesn’t look right. I don’t know what I should be changing, what font weights I should be using. And I don’t know how to do it better. Someone, please, tell me why it looks more like a book cover than a poster? Why my flyers are lopsided and wrong?

As you can see, I’m pretty much using texture to get me through. Texture is the way, apparently.

Anyway, what I need from you, dear internet, is critique. Tell me what I’m doing wrong, tell me what I’m doing right. Tell me what I can do better, and how to do it. Point me in the direction of graphic design/poster/flyer design principles site that tells me why I’m fucking up. Something that isn’t ask.com or a site with a yellow clipart 90s design.

Help me be better, internet. What should I do?

I’m really really struggling with my 365 project at the moment. Like, really really really struggling. What is getting me through is random week long projects. I’ve done the Week of Random Headgear. I’ve done the Week of Jumping. And now, I’ve done the Week of Upside Down.

I’m at 312. I only have 53 shots more to go, FIFTY THREE! That number seems both dishearteningly high, and so close to the end. No doubt there will be other mini projects happening before the end. Have any of you got any ideas for the next mini project? Anything you want to see?

I used to be a person that despised walking anywhere. But then I moved into an inner city apartment, with work and friends and everything within 10 minutes, and convenient carparking nowhere to be found. Then walking become my preferred method of transport. I used to be that person that despised running. Running was only for if you were late, or for fun games (like netball, or soccer, or tag).

Now? Now I don’t play netball anymore, and making it out the gym (which is conveniently near work, and not, rather inconveniently, anywhere near home) is sometimes impossible. So I’ve started running. Kind of. I don’t know if you can call collapsing on the side of the road running. I’ve taken Quinn with me the few times I’ve attempted to run, and every time I stopped to die, he’d tug on the lead, as if his self-determination alone could make me go on. Which is hilarious, considering he’s smaller than a shoebox. Still I was pretty sure I was doing it wrong. Running isn’t meant to be this hard, right?

So, when Kyla said she was going to do the Couch to 5k program, I checked it out. Podcasts that tell you when to run, and when you can walk? Win. Podcasts that ease you into it, and play upbeat music? Win. Podcasts that cheer you on, even though you’re dying? Woo!

So I downloaded the podcasts, and I took Quinn out.

So, week one. Slight drama. Perhaps for anyone else it would have been common sense, but I’m one of those people who prefer just to ‘do it’ instead of figuring out how I’m going to do it first. I know, I’m an idiot. There were two things I wished I’d thought about before hand:

First: Seriously wished I’d thought to try out my ipod/headphone get up before I went. My headphone extension cable was broke, which meant that I couldn’t hear when it was time to run, or to walk. So I removed it, and was left with a super short set of headphones, which meant that I ended up shoving my ipod in my bra because it was the only place that the headphones would reach, and my ipod was secure. I know, I’m so classy. It also meant that I ran for half the podcast, and had to restart. Fail.

Second: The part where I wanted to just GO, and not think about it? Yeah . . . I should have worked out my route in advance, and figured out how far a round trip was. The first time I ended up back home before the podcast was half done, and on the second attempt, I picked a route that was way way too long, and ended up running when I was meant to be cooling down. It took me two or three attempts to get it right, but I got there in the end. Still, this was probably one of those situations where a little forethought would have come in handy.

All in all, I’m probably fitter than I think I am. The first weeks podcast was pretty easy, enough to make me sweat, but not enough to take my breath away, or make me feel like I was dying. I’m hoping that next weeks is a little more challenging. I’m also having issues finding a regular time to run. I can see this screwing up my commitment, but hopefully I’ll find a spot in my routine where it fits.

I’ll let you know how it goes. Are any of you doing the Couch to 5k program?? What do you think of it??