Who Pays?

This morning on Twitter, @KristynMaxwell asked whether it was okay to use a voucher to pay for a first date.  There has been quite a bit of discussion about it this morning, and I think I should add my two cents.

In regards to the voucher, I don’t really think there’s an issue with using a voucher to pay.  I know there’s that whole being worried about being seen as cheap, and I really don’t think it’s an issue.  If you are a person who uses vouchers all the time or sometimes or barely ever, that’s fine.  Why does it matter if the other person knows that you use vouchers, for god’s sake?

Anyway, my bigger issue is with what came out of the conversation; the presumption that the guy should pay, at least for the first date.  Come on people, it’s 2011.  I don’t have any problem at all with the guy paying, but I hate the expectation that the guy will pay.  I also think that it makes things really awkward – historically, the guy was expected to pay, but things have changed now.  The guy is still sort of expected to pay, but the girl has to do all that kefuffle with messing around with her wallet and taking out money and pretending to pay, all the while knowing that chances are, if he doesn’t want to look like a douche, the guy will have to pony up.

I think it’s so silly that we have all this bullshit around money.  I mean, we all know we have to use money and spend money and that things cost money, so what’s the big deal?  I do think that the money situation should be discussed before hand, it gets it out of the way and makes it less awkward.

A friend suggested that the first date should be paid for by whoever asked the other person out on the date.  After the first date, they go dutch, or make other arrangements, like they pay for alternative dates.  I think this is a great idea – if it was universally known, it would save a hell of a lot of hassles and awkwardness.

I don’t think guys should be expected to pay – but I don’t think that girls should be expected to pay either.  The status quo, unless you’ve talked about it before hand, should be that you each pay for your own meal/ticket/whatever.  I also think that if someone offers to pay, you should give in gracefully – no one wants to fight over it, and it shouldn’t be a big deal.  Arguing about it makes it a bigger deal than it needs to be, and that’s silly.

I have to say, the leas awkward dates I’ve been on are the ones where I’m either told ahead of time that it’s his (or her) shout, or we’ve discussed who’s paying for what.  It means that you don’t have that awkward moment when you go up to pay – you know exactly what you’re in for.

The other problem is when couples start keeping a mental tally of who’s paid for what, and who ‘owes’ more into the relationship.  I think this can be a source of contention in a relationship as you’ve got one person (or worse, both) constantly trying to even up the score.  It shouldn’t be a competition or an issue, you should just roll with it.  I understand that to some people, money is an issue, and it is something that sort of needs to be kept track of.  My argument is that the individual should keep track of their own spending, but comparing it to the other person’s isn’t a healthy thing to do.

Money isn’t a a good way to judge how well a relationship is going or even a method to begin judging how how much another person values you.  The more you talk about money, the less awkward and scary the whole conversation is.

The Great Switcharoo

So I’ve migrated (is that the right word) my blog from Blogger to WordPress, because everyone’s said that WordPress is pretty cool.  I thought I’d give it a go.

I imported my blog over, and it messed up all the formatting and made things ugly.  So far, I’m not very impressed, but I’m going to give it a go and see if I can get things looking a bit more pretty.

I will be updating the same content on both my Blogger and WordPress blogs for the foreseeable future until I can figure out which one I want to use, so be prepared for some cool(?) changes.

In the meantime, please look at a picture of a baby otter.

I had an abortion

When I was 15, I had an abortion.  If you don't want to read my personal views on abortion, PC or not, then I suggest you don't read this.  I make no apologies for hurting your feelings.  And yes, I call what is a 'fetus' a 'baby', because fetus is an ugly word and doesn't describe how I feel.

It's not something I'm ashamed of now, but there have been times where it has been something that has made me feel very very guilty.  And yes, ashamed, too, I guess.   It wasn't that I got pregnant on purpose, I was on the pill, and we used condoms, but I was on antibiotics and I guess both methods failed.  It was weeks until I found out, I think I knew that I was pregnant, but denied it to myself for a long time.  I found out when I was 9 weeks pregnant and spent about 10 days thinking about it.  I made the decision to have the abortion myself, and told the father (my boyfriend) the morning before I had the procedure.

In retrospect, I should have allowed him to be more involved in the decision, both for his sake and mine.  It's fucking scary to go through that all alone, and I can't even begin imagine how he must have felt to find out that his girlfriend is pregnant, and that she's made the decision to abort the baby without allowing him to be there.  That was a very selfish thing of me, and I'm sorry for it.  

I believe that men (fathers) should have the opportunity to be consulted and for their opinion to be heard about the possibility of aborting a baby.  I think that because it's their body, women have the right to choose whatever they do, but a guy should have the opportunity to make his voice heard.  I'm not exactly sure how it would work logistically - women probably shouldn't have to keep track of all of their sexual partners and contact them if they find out they're pregnant, but it should b some sort of moral code. 

Before I chose to get an abortion, I thought long and hard about keeping the baby.  I was quite mature for 15, and probably could have done it with lots of parent support.  I was scared about telling my parents.  In fact, there are very few people I've ever told.  My parents know I had an abortion, but not because I directly told them.  Until/unless they read this, I guess even they've never been sure.  Mum always told me that it was my body, my choice, and therefore, if I ever got one, she didn't need to know.  She was happy for me to tell or to support me whatever I chose, but she didn't want to sway my choice.  

The reason I eventually chose to have an abortion is because I realised that my want to keep the baby wasn't a moral belief or a religious belief or because I felt a close connection to it, but rather because I wanted something to love me unconditionally.  I decided that wasn't a good enough reason - if my decision to keep a baby that I wasn't prepared for was primarily selfish, then that wasn't enough.  

I think there are lots of reasons why people choose to have an abortion, and there are lots of reasons why people get pregnant.  Not all people who get pregnant and choose abortion are stupid or unprepared (although sure, some are), and that's why it's not fair to judge people who have had one.  Looking back, I reaslise at 15 I couldn't have done justice to that baby's life.  I probably wouldn't have been a bad mother, I probably would have done perfectly fine - but I wouldn't have been able to do all the things I can do and thing I love today.  

Sure, I still wonder what might have happened to that baby.  It used to haunt me, and if I'm honest, it sometimes still does.  Abortion was the right choice for me, and I hate that I feel guilty about it.  I think that having it out in the open might stop my guilt, or help someone else see that it was the right choice for them too.

Once a cheater, always a cheater

I pride myself on honest and communicating in a relationship, but I'm going to be honest, it hasn't always been like this. I've never really been a liar, although, when I tell you this next story, you might not believe me. Lying makes me feel physically sick, I hate not telling the truth and I think that not telling is just as bad as outright lying. But that doesn't mean I've never lied.

The first lie I ever told was to my parents. One night we had pizza for dinner, which was a big treat. I was probably about 3, or maybe 4. It was before my brother was born, anyway. I was feeling sick, I think I had a tummy bug or something, but I desperately wanted pizza and ice cream, so I remember not telling my parents that I was feeling sick because they wouldn't have let me eat pizza. I remember being totally full, but wanting ice cream so bad. Mum told me that I had to eat ALL of my pizza before I could have ice cream, so I put the pizza in my mouth and went to the bathroom, and spat it out in the toilet.  

I remember mum asking if I had eaten it, and I said yes, knowing that I was lying.  I'm a terrible liar, and mum's always known that.  I have no doubt in my mine that she knows I was lying, but I think she didn't call me out on it because she knew my own guilt would eat me alive.  And she was right, it only took about 3 days before the guilt got too much for me and I woke up crying in the middle of the night to confess my sins.

Anyway, that's not the story that will make you not believe me.  Once, I cheated on a guy.  Even then I was totally against it, and I knew it was wrong.  It's not an excuse, but it's hard to break up with someone when you have as much history as we did - we were (and still are) bonded forever.  I fell for a guy who was going out with my friend at the time.  She wasn't a close friend; we went to primary school together, and she was my best friend there.  One day, she stopped coming to school, and I found out about year later that she had changed schools and never told me.  She went to a school close to mine, and we occasionally passed each other in the street.  Maybe the cheating was partially getting back at her for that, not that it's an excuse.  I knew they were together, and while I didn't exactly seduce him, I didn't reject his advances either.  We were 16 and young and stupid and we thought we were in love.  Maybe we were in love.

We had sex, and started hanging out every day.  It eventually got to the point where we wanted to be together publicly, and we knew that it would come out.  I told my boyfriend, who, unknown to me, was actually friends with the other guy's girlfriend.  He told her, and one morning, the whole thing blew up.  I never lied to him about it, but I also didn't tell the truth.  He was more disappointed than angry, I think. We both knew out relationship was over, and had been for a while, but it was still a breach of trust.  The whole time it was going on (about 3 months) I felt guilty.  There were times I would see them together, and it was exciting having a secret that was just ours.  I've always liked the late night texts and sneaky phone calls, so a secret relationship is right up my alley.  

It might come as a bit of a surprise, but I am a very good secret keeper.  Despite the amount I share on my blog/in twitter/at lunch, I am actually very good about keeping things private.  I probably could have kept this private relationship going on for months and months without letting anything slip - although the guilt would have eaten me alive.  

For about two weeks after we went public and broke up with our respective boyfriends and girlfriends, it was drama after drama.  The friend who I literally hadn't spoken to in 6 or 7 years was suddenly my 'best friend' that I had betrayed, and my ex and I were somehow re-engaged (despite having decided that we were not going to get married anymore) and had planned our wedding date.  People everywhere (my school, the boy's school, her school, our respective sports teams) took sides, and it eventually ended in her sending me death threats, then sleeping with my ex to get back at me.  In the meantime, the secret guy and I carried on our relationship, although we decided we didn't want anything official.  We ended up together about a year later, and have spent 5 years together.

Cheating isn't something I've ever been able to forgive myself for.  There are still times where I feel guilty and disappointed that I didn't have the guts to leave the relationship sooner.  I feel bad that I upset her relationship, and also sad that I betrayed my ex.  However, all four of us are quite happy now.  She lives in Napier with her long term boyfriend, he lives in Christchurch with his girlfriend of two years.  The guy and I are best friends, and live together.  

Cheating probably doesn't always have this outcome.  I don't know why it worked out this way for us, and despite the 'happy ending' in this situation, it's not something I would ever condone.

The other thing I can't condone is people who encourage cheating.  I've blogged about it before; situations where one party know the other is in a relationship and still gets involved.  It's not as bad as the cheater, I think, but it is still bad - and dishonest - especially if you know the partner of the person you are cheating with.  I think people who knowingly get involved with someone who's cheating delude themselves into thinking 'oh, he'll leave her for me' or 'I'll never fall for him'.  It's stupid, and dangerous.  

There is that saying 'once a cheater, always a cheater'.  I'm not sure I believe this is the case always - people can change.  But I do think that if you cheat and get away with it with minimal or no heartbreak, you'll be more likely to try it again.  Let's face it, a new relationship is exciting.  All of those 'firsts' are new and exciting and fantastically fresh.  You feel special and appreciated, and it's a very addicting feeling.  And no matter how hard we try, over time, relationships do get comfortable and things get more mundane - it's hard to keep that spark in a relationship (and this is where exciting sex comes in, for me, anyway).  It makes sense that we want something new.  

People in long term relationships who are very, very lonely are very common.  The reality is, you spend all this time together, and you forget to talk.  You sleep with each other every night, but most of the time, you stop having sex as often, or you do it, but you just go through the motions rather than have that exciting sex in the car/on the beach/on the couch/on the living room floor against the coffee table.  And once that excitement is gone, it's really  hard to get back.  I don't have the answers.  I've ended relationships because the sex wasn't as often/good enough as I wanted.  Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can't get the spark back, and you can't make it exciting anymore.  I think that's the time to leave.

Rate My Ass.com

Tonight, a guy and I went on an amazing, romantic*, couple** date*** and did lots of firsts together(4*).  We first went to an amazing play(5*), then for a stroll along the waterfront(6*).  We had an amazing, candlelit dinner alone in a 5 star restaurant(7*), then retired to our expensive hotel room with starched white sheets and red rose petals scattered around the room(8*).  We made love in the moonlight(9*) then, as we lay in each others arms staring adoringly into each others eyes(10*), he told me my ass was a 6/10.

A SIX out of TEN!?  What the FUCK?  It gets worse.  How, I hear you asking?  Well, he said I have wide hips.  And said that my ass is pointy.  Pointy?  And that I'm short and stocky.  While these things are technically true, it's not really something a girl likes to hear, especially on a date***.  For about 12 seconds, it did make me question myself(11*).  Maybe my ass IS pointy?  Maybe the short and stocky thing is a bit much, maybe I should to go Thailand and get my legs broken and stretched so I can be 1.5cm taller.  Maybe I need to stop eating, and get an ass implant so I have a big juicy JLo ass?  

Then (thankfully, I really don't have money for all this plastic surgery), I remembered that I'm actually pretty happy with my body.  Sure, it's not perfect, but it is functional, and while there are some things that I'm slowly changing (mostly by running - not intentionally), I am proud of my battle scars and muscles - even if they do make my ass pointy!  

All I can say is that this guy is very very lucky that I'm not like a lot of girls I've met, who would positively self destruct upon hearing this sort of criticism.  We girls, generally as a species(12*), don't take criticism well, and we do it even less well when it's about our physical selves.  Maybe boys shouldn't comment on our bodies?  I sort of think that's silly - our bodies are a pretty big part of us (you know, like ALL of us), and we should be able to be honest about it, especially with our partners**.

I know it's scary to open yourself up to criticism.  I do, I get that.  Even though I'm pretty happy with myself (lol at my ego!), I do know that feeling you get when you ask someone a question like 'does my ass look gigantic in this?' or 'does this bra make my boobs look old-lady-ish?' and expect them to be honest.  It's terrifying.  But it is good for us.  We should know our 'faults' (although, to be clear, I actually LOVE my ass, and I would give it at the very least a 7.5/10!) - but we should take them with a grain of salt.

Knowing the guy who told me this, and knowing his 'perfect girl-ass', I know that my pathetic, wide hips would never be able to seriously compete.  And you know what, I'm okay with that.  He obviously sees something else in me that he likes, what to take me on such a romantic* date***, so who cares if my ass is only a 6/10.  A fucking six.

To the dude:

In the interests of fairness (and maybe to invoke a teeny bit of fear into you), I've decided to share some thoughts about your body with you.  And the internet.  Yes, on my blog.  That's what you get for giving me a 6/10, interrupting robot.  Luckily for you (sorry, internet), my mummy told me (she tells me lots of things, and I'm sure she'd be super proud of me for this) that if I didn't have anything nice to say, not to say anything at all.  I'm not good about not saying anything at all, so all I'll say is you have a nice ass.  8/10 (13*).

* no romance was involved

** we're not a couple

*** I'm pretty sure it wasn't a date

4* we actually only did one first, and I'm pretty sure no one wants to hear about that

5* well, okay, no play, but more, a movie.  It was an Oscar winning movie, if that makes it slightly more classy?

6* we didn't so much go for a stroll, but to be fair, he did get out of the car when we were within approximately 100m from the ocean, but admittedly for less than 5 seconds

7* burger king, but we were the only people there

8* this might be a total figment of my imagination

9* this is a blatant lie, I can't actually believe you guys are still reading this crap!

10* lol, who does that?

11* at this point, I'm just trying to make the guy feel bad.  I hope he knows that I'm actually only joking.  Maybe he would if he wasn't such an interrupting robot...

12* I do know that girls and boys are the same species, but it works better than gender here

13* I hope I get brownie points for this (14*)

14* it is actually true.

I'm makin' a list

Today I'm still feeling sad and I can't really put a finger on why.  I had the following conversation with a very good friend:

Lauren 
8:08 well I had a massive meltdown last night

8:08 that was cool 

James Franco 
8:08 in regards to...?

Lauren

8:08 life in general

8:08 I went for a run

8:09 and sat by the water

8:09 a man I had never seen before came and sat next to me and gave me a hug

James Franco

8:09 did you mace him

8:09 I would have maced him

8:09 for reals

Lauren

8:10 Nope

8:10 it was actually...nice

8:10 like, just what I needed

James Franco

8:11 that's good then, let off some pressure etc?

Lauren

8:11 yeah

8:11 except today I'm feeling equally suicidal

8:11 so that's not ideal

James Franco

8:12 no, I'd say not. What's causing you to feel like that?

Lauren

8:12 It's not one thing I can pinpoint, which is difficult

8:13 It's a whole bunch of things that are okay alone, but too much together

James Franco

8:13 Right. So, make a list of them and figure out an approach to deal with them

Lauren

8:14 that's a really awesome idea

I think he's onto something.  I can't deal with all of these problems together, that's impossible.  I need to break things down into manageable chunks and deal with things one by one.  It's sort of easier said than done; none of the things I'm dealing with are the sort of things you can just fix - they're all going to take time to get over.  I think writing a list has made me feel better.  I know exactly all the things have I need to work through and knowing that there are so many makes me feel better about not being 'over this' in a week.


Lists are good for helping when you're feeling overwhelmed.  I find that breaking things down into tiny, manageable portions makes things not seem so difficult.  

My Kind Samaritan

Today I got bad news piled on bad news, then more bad news.  I could feel myself sliding into a depression; one that I've been working my ass off to stay out of for the last few months.  Once you've been diagnosed with a 'mental disorder' (in my case, bipolar and schizophrenia - is anyone surprised, even for a second?) you have a few options: do nothing, and get trapped in it's vicious cycle, some sort of counselling, with or without drugs, or learn to read your moods and deal with them.  Clearly, the first and last options aren't widely promoted, and they can be very dangerous. 

I chose the last option.  I don't really trust psychiatrists or physiologists; my cousin, who was my idol and my best friend committed suicide after being taken off her drugs prematurely.  It was horrible to watch her slip deeper and deeper, and eventually never resurface.  And the aftermath literally tore apart my family.  The times I have been to psychiatrists, they've wanted to drug me on everything from prozac to lithium.  I can't do that; I can't live in that foggy mess.  I'd rather feel everything and hurt, than feel nothing at all.  And I don't like talking about my 'problems' to people I don't know.  It doesn't help - it helps a lot more when I bring things up in my own time, and I can deal with it when I want to, rather than in a 90 minute session once a week on a Thursday at 4.15pm.

I'm not really one for ignoring things, so I have made it my goal to live happily with these 'disorders' (funny, because they actually have made me very orderly and organised!).  How it works basically is I had to learn my triggers.  I had to know what it feels like to slip into that black hole, and to pull myself back out.  I had to learn what the highs felt like, and learn to ride them out without doing anything reckless or dangerous.  The schizophrenia has been the hardest to deal with; it happens almost randomly; I don't need to be in a certain mood, and I know when it happens that no matter what, I have to get around people as soon as I can; it's the only thing that can 'save' me.  

To people who have depression or bipolar or whatever, don't think that just because this works for me, it will work for you.  It's not for everyone, and I'd even argue that for most people, it isn't safe.  For me though, it's my only option, and I have no choice but to make it work.

Anyway, tonight when I felt myself teetering on the edge, I knew I had to do something.  Usually, I have two options; I can ride out the low, and remind myself every 5 minutes that I will survive, or I can pull myself out.  It's sort of like ripping off a bandaid, only harder, and more painful.  The issue with riding it out is sometimes it can take weeks, and with my workload at university, I really can't deal with that right now.  Tonight, I went for a run.  I know that exercising to the point of mental exhaustion will fix it.  I put on loud dance music, and ran up the highest, steepest hill in my area.  Eventally, I ended up down by the water.

I sat here for about 10 minutes, and cried.  They were tears of anger, fear, frustration, and exhaustion.  After a while, a man walked from around the corner (I was on the other side of a train bridge, hidden from the road and cars and people), and simply sat down beside me.  He put his arm around me and said 'No matter what it is, it will be okay.  You can get through this.'  We sat like this for maybe another 5 minutes, then I started to feel all of the pain and anger and desperation was much more manageable.  It's not gone, but I can get through it.  I thanked him, and he gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and told me to 'run safely'.  

This man, who I have never seen before and will probably never see again, saved me tonight.  I'm not going to be all dramatic and say I would have committed suicide, because that's a blatant lie; I wouldn't.  But he did save me from sinking into a pit of nothing; he literally pulled me from hell.  How can you ever thank a stranger who does something like that?  I guess the answer is, pay it forward.  There's probably nothing I will ever to do repay him, but I can repay my debt to the world by helping others.  

Remember, sometimes, little words that you say to strangers might mean the most to them.  The fact is, someone I don't know just told me they believe in me, and today, that has literally changed my life.  Be kind to others, love your neighbour, smile to people in the street you don't know.  You never know who you might be helping, or what's behind their smile.

Friends with benefits and fuck buddies

Everyone knows what friends with benefits are, and what fuck buddies are.  Well, actually, maybe they don't know the difference.  Here's the difference as I see it - probably different to other peoples, but who cares: friends with benefits are friends above and beyond their fucking.  They are usually friends first, and fuck second.  Fuck buddies often only get together to fuck; they (in my very limited experience) tend to meet and get together on the premise that they will be fuck buddies and no more.  Basically, one is purely sex, the other is a friendship also.

Which works better?  Well, I suppose that depends on exactly what you're wanting.  From what I've seen an experienced, people find it very very hard to have no strings sex, especially more than once.  Maybe a one off fling is okay, but after you've done it a few times, some sort of emotional connection HAS to form - that's totally normal.  Whether you like to admit it or not, sex IS an intimate act, and while I do know a girl who refused to kiss her fuck buddies to prevent her from forming an emotional attachment, when I tried, I found it lasted about 10 minutes flat.  Maybe that's just my lack of willpower talking. 

People tend to think that girls are the ones who can't have sex without emotional attachment, but I think it really depends on the individual.  I usually am very good at controlling my emotions and compartmentilzing in my head, yet I know lots of boys who just can't do that at all.  A perfect example is a guy we'll call George.  He and ... Molly went out on one date once.  Three years ago.  Molly and George didn't even kiss, let alone do anything else.  Yet, George had decided, in that 2 hour date, that Molly was his soulmate, and he and she were going to get married and make beautiful babies together, then die old by the fire, hand in hand.  Molly liked George as a friend, but she didn't feel any emotional attachment.  She gently told George this, and he seemed to accept it.

So that should be the end of the story right? Betcha wondering why I told you?  Well, it wasn't over for George.  He kept asking Molly out for drinks and dinners and movies, and even started befriending some of her friends so he could start hanging out with the 'group'.  They didn't even kiss.  Okay, so it's not only boys who do this sort of craziness, girls do it too.  But seriously, it's not okay from ANYONE! 

Anyway, where was I?  Right, so basically, fuck buddies will work totally fine, as long as you don't try to impose any sort of restrictions on them or their freedom of association with others.  Yes, that does mean that you both have to be free to sleep with others, which of course means using protection every time.  You also have to only see them when you're having sex.  I'm in two minds about going out for ice cream afterwards, but I tend to think that the only way it can work is a 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am'.  Going to dinner and movies or go-karting isn't okay, and neither is anything else that's not strictly sex.  And yes, that means no texting, no IMing, no emailing, no late night drunken phone calls. 

Friends with benefits are a bit different though.  These are people you've probably done the dinner, movie, go-karting and aquarium thing with already.  But when you start fucking, things can be a bit complicated.  I don't think you can really go back to just being friends once you've been fucking, especially if it was awesome sex.  In fact, maybe even less if it was bad sex!  I do think that FWB is one of thos sort of one way door things, which is a bit of a double standard given that I fully believe that people who have been dating can be friends after they break up.

The issue is where the line is drawn with FWB.  How do you introduce each other? Clearly, they're not your boyfriend/girlfriend, but does 'friend' really encompass it?  I tend to think that your relationship is your business, and you shouldn't have to define it for anyone but yourselves.  The other issue I have is whether you allow each to see other people.  I think this is where the tricky stuff comes in.  From a safety perspective, it makes absolute sense to be exclusive as there is less STI risk, but from an emotional level, it's a minefield.  As soon as you're exclusive, you can start getting a little bit possessive and even jealous, without even intending on it.  And if you're exclusive, and you hang out as friends independently to the fucking part, then what's the difference between being FWB and being in a relationship?  I blogged about it here a couple of months back, and since then, I've thought about it lots.

I think that a relationship is whatever you want it to be.  If you want to call yourselves friends, or say you're going out or that you're married when you're really not (as long as you're not doing it for fraudulent purposes), then how it that anyone's business but your own?  It doesn't actually matter what you name it, it is whatever it is to you and your partner.  People (including me, at times) are way too caught up in fitting into the boxes than they are about being happy, which is all that matters in the long run.

There's always the option that you can take things day by day and see how they go.  The best relationships, regardless of whether they are founded on romantic love or sex only, are good because they have good, solid communication.  It's something you and your partner should be honest about.  And it's something that you can always try out and change later - but the key thing, like anything in a relationship, is to keep talking.

Earthquakes and other things I hate

Last night, there was a 4.5 earthquake in Wellington.  It was something we all expected after the 6.3 in Christchurch, but understandably, everyone was pretty shaken by it.  It was 40km deep, and about 20km away - but still a decently felt quake.  My first thought was 'that's a big gust of wind' then 'holy shit, how's Christchurch' then 'I want a hug'.  Yes, instead of getting under shelter, I ran for cuddles.  Damn, I would be totally crap in a real emergency!

There was a lot of noise about it on twitter, most people freaking out, then asking 'Chch, are you okay?!'.  It didn't take very long for us to be brought back to reality with Chch experiencing a 4.6, but only 5km deep.  I think it all brought it home to us about how bad it really is for everyone down there.  I think Wellingtonians feel especially deeply for everyone in Chch - we all know that this quake should have been us.  

The thing I hate about natural disasters is that you can't really avoid them.  Most (floods, tornados etc) you can predict, but earthquakes and fires you really can't.  I'm the sort of person who hates being out of control, so not knowing what's going on scares me.  How I avoid that is to learn as much as I can about earthquakes.  I read everything I can about them, from scientific journals to first hand accounts.  I look at quake drums from around the world every day, and follow trends.  I wonder if this makes me sane or insane?  I have to say, the more I know, the more scared I get.  It freaks me out to know that if there was a big one in Wellington, we would literally be cut off from the rest of the country for days, if not weeks.  

So what can I do to not be so freaked out?  I always have my phone on me.  Okay, maybe that's not disaster related, but instead an iPhone obsession.  I can't imagine how scary it would be to not be able to reach your loved ones in a quake.  Well, actually, I'm there right now, so I guess it's like this.  Leaving my phone behind is not something I want to do.  I also have 4 emergency kits at home.  I have LOTS of emergency water, and I store them in different places so that hopefully, not all are destroyed.  

That's pretty much it.  That's not much really, is it? I do two things,, and hope that if an earthquake hits, I'm not trapped under hundreds of kilos of rubble.

It's not only earthquakes I'm scared of.  I have lots of other irrational fears too.  Here are just a few, because we don't have all day:

Spiders. I'm much more scared of small ones that big spiders.  Small ones are so so creepy.

Dentists - Sure, I've had some bad experiences, but I've survived all of them.  I don't know why I'm so freaked out by them.  It's frustrating how scared and pathetic and sweaty I get at the dentist.

Gynaecologists - I think this is pretty common.  There's nothing nice about some random stranger peering at my lady bits, even if it is for my own good.

Heights - well, actually it's not so much heights as it is falling and hitting the ground.  My fear of heights stems from being pushed off high things, and I don't like them anymore.  Sometimes, I even get vertigo looking down, and I'm only 5'1", so it's hardly like I'm ages from the ground!

Hair in my mouth - yes, what you're thinking.  I hate it.  And I don't put up with it, except in very special circumstances.  So if it's you, know that you're special.  I don't even like my own hair in my mouth.  It really creeps me out.  I don't know why it scares me, but it does. It can give me a weird feeling for days!

When I grow up...

Some of you might know that I'm part way (well, I guess 1/2 way, since I'm up to my 11th birthday and I just turned 22) through my autobiography.  I'm not sure what I'm going to do when I finish it; I'm not sure that it will ever be finished.  I'm writing the story of my life not necessarily because I'm an interesting person, but mostly because I have a truly terrible memory, and if I didn't write it all down, I would forget my entire life.

I'm not sure if I'm going to publish it - I don't know if anyone would want to read it.  It's not really a story of great triumph over evil, or even strength in the face of adversity.  Sure, I've had times of being tough and strong in my life, but I've also had lots and lots of times where I've just wanted to give up.  

I'm out of things to blog for today.  I don't want to blog anymore about Christchurch; it's not that I don't love you, it's just that I have no words.  There's nothing I can say to make this better, or to go away or to even help at all, so for my own sanity, I need to take a step back today.  Instead, I'm going to share one of the stories out of my autobiography, about what I want to be when I grow up.  It was written in March 2007, and is unedited (except to add the photo of the cute baby).  It's just part of one story out of a chapter about 'what I want to be when I grow up'.  I'm not really sure how the autobiography is going to work, it's mostly a collection of short stories at this stage.