There came a point around the 200 day mark where I really really struggled with finding the motivation to continue my 365 project. The great thing about flickr is that there are a billion million people who share their 365 photos, so you can cheer each other on, find inspiration, and generally just be nosey.

Well on one my being nosey adventures through flickr, I stumbled across Megg. Megg, straight up, is amazing. She’s doing 365 jumping shots. JUMPING shots. And oh! They are wonderful jumping shots, with gorgeous colours and brilliant lighting and I’m jealous, jealous of her skill! Flicking through her photostream, it often looks as if she’s just floating mid air.

So last week, during one of my motivation ruts, I decided that I was going to do a week of jumping shots. I didn’t think much about it, just then, I was just going to do it. Well, let me tell you that my opinion of Megg is now a billion times higher than it was the week before last, because you know what? Jumping shots are HARD.

Jumping shots where your face isn’t contorted from the effort of willing yourself into the air long enough for the flash to take the shot. Timing things right so you don’t look like you’re doing some weird disco dance with your knees bent while standing on the ground. Making sure that your clothing isn’t doing weird things, that you are, in fact, in focus, and that you don’t hurt yourself too much trying to jump in interesting places.

Let’s not forget that the people who walk past are going to think you are absolutely mad because you’ll look an idiot.

But it was a fun mini-project, I’m glad I did it. Are any of you rocking 365 projects? How did you keep yourself motivated??

Last weekend a few of us drove across the country to Mount Ruapehu. And even though I’ve driven the way a million, billion times, I’m still struck by how pretty New Zealand can be.

I have to say, I love this drive. Is there a particular drive that you are loving right now??

It was dark, and wet and miserable, which suited me perfectly. I drove with a friend through the familiar streets, and I tried for light hearted gossip even though we both knew that I was angsting. We peered at letterboxes, trying to figure out how close we were.

Three . . . Five . . Nine? Did we miss it? I pull over, and get out.

I walk down to Seven, and stand in the driveway.

It looks like a nice enough place, an ugly villa in semi-good nick, and there are lights on. His cars not there, though. It’s Wednesday, so he’s probably at netball. I frown a little (it still irks that he’s still playing netball with MY team. I insisted, at the time, that I leave instead of he, and now it just seems silly that I did). Still, it’s good that he’s not here, I didn’t want to run into him anyway.

I hold the mail that’s not mine and eye the letter box, and I’m torn. If I leave these here, then please please please let this be the end of this, please stop bothering me with details he should have already taken care of, please get out of my life. And then the other side, if I leave the letters here, there will be no more reasons to send an email, to talk, if just about nothing, no reasons to connect . . . and I miss him.

I stop myself before I can get further with that thought. I don’t need the past.

That particular past is a bit like a cigarette. It’s bad for you, and it makes your breath and hair and clothes smell, and you get that horrible smokers cough. And everyone gets down on you for smoking, they do, because its disgusting and bad for you, and you know it, and they know it. But you crave the nicotine, so you smoke the cigarettes anyway. You feel relief, but its dirty, and tastes bad.

He was like that. Encourgaging horrible behaviour and disparaging remarks and a miserable, lonely existence.

I don’t need that past. I don’t want that past.

I drop the letters in the box, and walk away, quickly, back to the car out of the rain.

We drive on, and I spent the rest of the night in good company, with friends who are brilliant and make me laugh. With boys who like me, and tell me so. With people who bring out the best in me, not the worst. With people who would rather hold me up, than let me fall. With people who care about me. People who actually care.

I’m learning to let go, slowly. And its hard. But I wish I didn’t have to learn. I wish I already had.

I’m all about secret handshakes and in jokes, and catch phrases. And we go through them so often, someone is always uttering something new that sticks. I like them, I like the reassurance that comes with in jokes, a reminder of a friendship, confirmation of madness. I thought I’d mention a few that are ‘in’ at the moment. They’ll be dropped in favour of something else soon, I know, and I’d like to remember what’s used in the here and now.

“I veto burritos! I veto MUSICALS!”

Zes and I are stupidly indesive. So on one of our adventures fate somehow put us in the path of a cute little Mexican place in town, where we ate ourselves stupid. I think I had a had a burrito, that was bigger than anything a normal person should be able to eat, and woe was me for attempting to eat it. I was much less keen on burritos after that. Then, randomly, we saw Nine, knowing nothing more than its name. Did you know it was a musical? A really long, and painful musical? It looked promising. The name sounded good, and the poster had alot of famous people in it. But fail. The Movie was really difficult to get through. Needless to say, we now veto burritos, and musicals. We use it when a decision has to be made, generally. “What do you want to drink?” “I veto burritos!” “Well I veto MUSICALS!” We’re quite silly, sometimes.

“I’ll see you when I see you”

I have with a few people. It’s basically a trust thing. We have no plans to see each other, no idea when we’ll next see each other next, but we know that we enjoy each others company enough that we’ll see each other again soon. With one person in particular it’s kind of a touchstone phrase that kind of confirms that we are what we are. *shrug* Its a good phrase, I think.

“Tu êtes une sange pute!”

Hahaha, <3 this. This is relatively new, and came from a lock-in at the bar on right. It must've been around 3am, we were all clearly affected by alcohol, sitting around after the boys had closed. The Glassie, the brilliant brilliant Glassie is French. And when he speaks French, it sounds divine. So you know how it goes, 'how do you say, how do you say'? we ask, and he laughs at us and tries to teach us. How do you say 'You're a monkey' turned into a phrase slightly more naughty, that apparently doesn't make any sense, and had The Glassie in serious giggles (which in itself is hilarious, because the glassie is a big, cut, blonde dude). I think I <3 this phrase simply because I <3 the time that it came from. It also makes a brilliant in-joke insult.

“You are awesome beautiful!”

Ah, <3 for drunken nights out. A bunch of us (Zes, Match, Lyth, my girl JZ etc) went to a flat warming, where Match, the charming amazing Match got carefully affected by alcohol. I'd never seen Match intoxicated before, because he doesn't generally go past his limit. But he did that night, that night Match matched me bottle for bottle (in the beginning, anyway) and by the end of it he was super affectionate, and loved us all. There were many hugs, and compliments and we all got told how brilliant we were. "You are awesome beautiful" came out of Matchs mouth a few times, and the rest of us picked it up, and went with it.

“Tu êtes mon petit chou-fleur”

This is a something between me and The French Glassie. It basically means ‘you are my little califlower’, and its what I’ve started calling him. Its a cute little thing to call someone, and hilarious in that he’s not cute and little (but huge and cut, and stupidly masculine, complete with big muscles and tight shirts) it makes me laugh, and him too, I think. We dance and twirl, and its quite fun. Sadly, he has this weird work ethic, and wont dance when he’s meant to be working, but its a sweet way to touch base.

Are you using any interesting phrases at the moment?

I love sending mail, I really do. Big packages covered in brown paper with exciting things hidden inside. Generally there are always doodles on the outside of my packages, little pictures of random cute things. And really, who doesn’t get excited by a letter from some far off place? Some exciting envelope thats not asking you for money?

Well, it turns out I’m about as far as far off can get. New Zealand is tiny, and a million miles from the rest of the world. So I’m in a prime position to be sending things from a far off place.

And it just so happens, that Number 97 on the list is “Mail 100 hand written letters”

Hand written letters. One hundred of them.

Long story short, I need people to send letters to. People who live in places I’ve never been, or seen. Who live wonderfuly different lives, and have brilliant adventures. You, really. I’d like to write you.

If you’d like a letter, email your address to me (elly@rarg.co.nz) and I’ll send you a letter. A brilliant letter. With a stamp from New Zealand, or perhaps somewhere else, if I happen to not be in New Zealand at the time. Imagine the possibilities!

I promise not to do anything untoward with your address (cross my heart). Promise you’ll get something pretty in the mail, too. Something brilliant. Maybe a chocolate fish, even. Or some pineapple lumps. Maybe even a tiny tiki. You know, you’re missing out if you haven’t got a tiny tiki.

So please, please do email me your address (elly@rarg.co.nz)

It will be brilliant. I promise.

PS: Oh <3 for all the responses already! Just a note for the Kiwis, I won't send you letters from home. I'll wait till I'm in some far off place before you get yours. <3, though!

I don’t really enjoy flying, not really. I hate the pressure that builds up in your ears and makes them ring and ache. The uncomfortable seats in the cattle class, the rude people, and the children that kick chairs. But the views, oh the views! If for no other reason, I would suffer all the discomforts of flying willingly, with a smile on my face, just to see the the world from above.

And its always the little things, flying out of Wellington to see the wind farms dotted along the mountain tops, the islands shrunk to miniature sizes, and giant alps breaking up the lay of the land. When we flew back last Sunday, Ruapehu looked divine, and I was jealous of all the people enjoying the snow on such a gorgeous day.

It was amazing to see coast to coast, to see the farm patchwork of the Waikato plains. To be above the clouds in perpetual sunlight, watching their shadows fall across the sea. New Zealand is so pretty, from above.

A while ago, I used to post every weekday. Little ditties and random whatevers and pictures of my dog. I still post pictures of my dog and other such things, but now its three times a week. MWF. Well, todays Friday, and its well past lunch and I haven’t posted yet.

Yeah . . .

I used have hundreds of posts scheduled, ready to go WEEKS before they came up. But then my life became a little less dramatic. And I took a step back from posting about all the super intimate ‘the universe just taught me a lesson’ stuff. And then I stopped posting how I felt about the ex, and a little bit less about the boys I was seeing, and the messed up adventures I was having.

In short, I’m out of postable content.

I don’t even have a picture of me in a whoopie cushion costume for you.

Would you be interested in my day? Shall I ramble a bit in attempt to come up with some content?

Today, then:

It’s raining, and its dark and grey and miserable. I’m at work, sitting in an open plan office with two online forms to get out. They’re almost done, I’m just struggling with the barcode validation because I don’t get how the Broker Services work with our standard product. I’m a bit over today, and a bit apprehensive that I’m not going to get to push these forms live before I’m meant to be meeting people for drinks, and a dinner, and then a film festival movie. I’m pretty sure I’m forgoing the drinks. I’d really like to NOT forgo the dinner. And I’m NOT missing the movie.

I’m glad its almost the weekend. I’m halfway through a book which I didn’t think I’d like (The Pillars of the Earth) but at lunch I snuck out to my car to read it, its that good. I’m waiting to hear how the ‘Meeting of Doom’ went, and trying to figure out how much I can play around at the bar this weekend. Also trying to figure out if I can coax The Fourth Quarter into a spontaneous something or not, and if I can find the time to do so.

Is that enough of a postcard of today? And you, what are you doing today?

Wow, that good, huh? How about this, then: heres a few random things that I found on the interwebs. Because, yes. This ‘out of content’ post couldn’t get any worse’.

1. datingbrian.com – a 23 year old guy gets out of a long term relationship, and moves to New York. He then puts his dating life in the hands of THE INTERNET, and goes on 30 dates in 30 days.

2. departmentofdoing.net – The Department of Doing, ha! I <3 these guys (one of which is Bunny, actually). They are driving a jeep from the London to Mongolia, because they are mad and crazy and brilliant. Also, between the three of them, their blog posts have been pretty hilarious.

3. Because random apps that make pretty noises and waste a lot of time is what the internet is about, right?

4. informationisbeautiful.net – because pretty infographics do the same thing, but make you feel smart at the same time.

5. And if you’re not feeling particularly smart, and just want to laugh at some funny photos, this is for you.

6. For more giggles: stuffnoonetoldme.blogspot.com. @Emilynz saw this, and then raised www.dearcoketalk.com. That was a poker reference, which failed. I’m not very good at poker. (PS. This counts as two).

8. This made me laugh, and I’m not even a Star Wars fan (which honestly, bugs some of my friends no end. I’ve tried to watch it a billion times, but always ALWAYS I end up sleeping through it).

Okay, is 8 enough? I think eights enough. So now you: what are you doing? What are you up to? What links are you laughing at right now?

Last weekend I was in Wellington, and oh was it mad!

It was a weekend of eating ridiculously big breakfasts, and trying to speak Maori, and loosing at poker and stealing replacement chips. It was about cake and chocolate icing, and banner making, and fancy cowboy restaurants with huge portion sizes. It was about sharing bottles of wine, and in jokes, and gossip. It was about complaining about the cold, and cheering on the All Blacks, and racing to finish books. It was about straightening hair, and ridiculous impluse buys. It was about flying and birthdays and pulling faces at the camera.

But mostly it was about family. My wonderful, brilliant, mad family who I get to see once a year, if I’m lucky.

Needless to say, it was a brilliant, brilliant weekend.

“Hey Elly, its Luke from last Saturday. Hows ya nyte going? What are you up to?”

And then

“Any chance ya mite let me take ya out sumtime?”

I half cringe at my phone. Its 1am, and I’m still out, surrounded by friends and family. I take another sip of my (fourth? Fifth?) wine, and I’m grateful he mentioned his name and where I met him. I wouldn’t have remembered, otherwise. I’m not really sure how this part of the dating dance goes, but I’m not interested, hey. Its been a week, and I don’t really remember who you are.

I realise that I should probably stop giving my number out to boys who ask for it. Its just, what are you meant to do, when they are looking at you with puppy dog eyes, and that stupidly charming grin? Say no? It just seems easier to hand it over than to cause a scene. They worked up the courage, and it just seems heartless to say no. Also, there was that one time where I got snapped giving out a wrong number. Fail. Embarrassing on both sides, that one.

I reply with some polite small talk (“Nights going good, just out with some friends.”) No questions that need replying to, nothing that could be considered overly keen. I ignore the second txt. Please just disappear into the night. Please please please.

I really should stop doing this. As I flick through my contact list, every third or so entry is a name and a bar: “Josh @The Crib”, “Sam @Neighbourhood”, “Mike @BrewBar”. It seems rather ridiculous, really. But I’m worried that if I delete them, they’ll txt and I’ll have to do that ‘who are you? What do you want?’ spiel.

I sigh. I’m over this. I’m over playing the frivolous dating dance. I’m over trying to figure out what they want, whether they are looking for a happy and platonic friendship, or something more. I’m at the point where I’m happy with my lot. Happy with my friends, happy with the adventures, and happy with the complete lack of drama.

I’m just not looking for anything. Not for dates, or happily ever afters, or even here and nows. I’m happy to talk to you, and I’m always cool with friending new, interesting people. The more the merrier, right? But really? I’m not interested in an average nothing with a stranger. I’m just not interested.

So I should just tell, him, right? I flick him back a txt, a quick:

“Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I’m not really interested. Sorry, hey.”

Almost immediately I get a reply:

“Np. Have a gud nite!”

I’m glad it was as easy as that, a gentle, no fuss let down. An easy disengage, and we move on. He was probably a brilliant guy, I’m sure. He could have been amazing, and there might have been a happy forever, and all the what-ifs float through my head. But really? It all comes down to I’m not really interested. Sorry, hey.

And Dudley is a giant, huge, brilliant giant dog, a cross between a Poodle and a Golden Retriever. And he is AMAZING. I’ve been having a really, really horrible week (honestly, deadlines actually just bring out the worst in people) so when I rocked up to the amazing Barkley Manor to pick up Quinn, and Dudley was hanging out? I didn’t hesitate to play and cuddle and hang out with him.

I actually love how huge he is. No, actually. Check him out in comparison to Quinn. Check out how his head IS BIGGER THAN MINE.

I’m appreciating the simple things right now, and a dog that knows you want a hug when you hold your arms out? He’s a dog you spend half an hour cuddling with.