I was cleaning out my drawers, going through clothes I need to get rid of, when I came across a little bit of my own personal history: my Deo Fretus t-shirt. Now, Deo Fretus (in God we trust) was the motto of my high school and also the name of the quintet I was a member of for two glorious years. It’s hard to describe the profound sense of nostalgia I felt as I tenderly pulled the tatty t-shirt out of the drawer and regarded its moth-eaten holes.
Say Uncle
At 2:44am on the 17th December, Caleb James Simpkin, my first nephew was born to my sieter Susan and her husband David. It’s a strange yet familiar sensation. My parents both had younger kids and so I am quite used to babies. At the same time, this is a whole new generation I’m holding in my arms, it’s kind of special.
I’ve reset my life counter on the left hand side of the blog to reflect the birth =D
Coming out to Granny
One day before my 30th birthday my granny Cynthia recently turned 84. The last 4 years of her life have been spent looking after her dying husband, so now that he’s passed away, she’s at a little bit of a loss. Life’s been hard these past few years and it’s been a bit of a struggle for her and her family. She travelled here to New Zealand for Christmas, to spend time with the family and, deep down, most of us are thinking this is probably the last time she’ll get the chance.
I walked up the driveway, arms laden with presents. My father, his family and my grandmother were all staying with a friend of his in Hamilton. I entered the lounge. Granny was in the kitchen, of course. I snuck on in and presented myself to her.
“Who’s that? … Stephen!”
Stephen’s off to War
Those of you who have followed my blog for some years now will remember that I had a run in with an interesting guy while I was in Texas. Stephen (confusingly sharing my name) was my second boyfriend and the first guy that I guess you could say I had anything approaching a relationship with. It all ended rather badly due to a combination of mental illness, pills and a failed healthcare system.
When I last saw Stephen, I’d left him with his new boyfriend and a tenuous but workable support structure. It all fell apart rapidly when I left and Stephen ended up having another crisis which culminated in him living with his birth father, arguably a good thing for him.
He kept up correspondence with me. Through a haze of dissociative identity there emerged this new person, a far more complete and whole person. Still Stephen, but sadly with a little added toughness. I see Stephen as equal parts creative/sensitive, angry/violent and cool/calculating. These three characters vie for supremacy in his psyche. At the moment, the cool character is prominent.
Anyway, you’re not reading this for the pop psychology lesson, you’re reading this because you want to know why the boy in that hole appears to be dressed in army fatigues and why I have a picture of a boy in a hole on my website.
Huka Falls Jet
A few weeks ago, at the end of October, I took a nice long trip down the length of the North Island from Auckland to Palmerston North to go to my Boss Llanwyn’s Halloween party. On the way down, I spent some time with my friends Chris and Charles.
Now, Chris and Charles have a special place in my heart: they’re the first gay couple I’ve ever known, they got married (civil union, whatever) during the time I’ve known them and they’re living in what can be described as relatively domestic bliss in Taupo. In many ways, they give me hope. It’s always a great pleasure to spend time with these guys. This time was especially fun because Charles and I indulged in the Huka falls jet ride.
Now, the Huka falls jet is much like New Zealand’s infamous shotover jet. You’re in a jet boat, hydroplaning in a very narrow bit of water. I have to admit, it kind of reminds me of a video game, but far more fun and realistic. I highly recommend it, though you’re likely to get wet 🙂
Cigarettes on the balcony
I hit the bed with a muted thud. It had been a long day and an even longer night. My parents were up from Hamilton and, along with other family and friends, we’d celebrated being together with food, drink and Singstar.
I rolled over and checked my phone. It was about 3:30am, we’d just seen the extended family to their car after a prolonged karaoke-off between myself and my cousin Jenny. Arth had passed out on the sofa/bed, beer in his hand, and mom was on the balcony having a cigarette. I turned over again, closed my eyes and sighed.
Mom was on the balcony having a cigarette.
I tossed again. Mom and I don’t often get a chance to talk.
30, so now what?
As some of you may know, I recently turned 30. It was an unremarkable milestone as milestones go. Last year I threw a nice big party and invited a whole lot of people. This year, I just had a small group, we drank, ate and talked a little. The next day Sam made me a birthday cake complete with 30 candles, a nice gesture on his part.
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30 seems so old, objectively so. When I was younger 30 seemed to be so very far away. I had this vague notion that I should be retired by 30, or that I should at least have my life sorted out. In many ways it is.
Argh!
In order to celebrate Sarah’s imminent PhD graduation and International Speak like a Pirate Day, a bunch of us got dressed up as pirates and had a bit of a party at our place.
Not much to say except that we all had a great time. More pics are available by clicking the link: International Talk like a Pirate Day pics.
Loud Shirt Day
Friday 18th September was Loud Shirt Day. To contribute, I bought a cheap white shirt from the Warehouse along with some fabric paint from Spotlight. I then spent about 4 hours on Thursday night making my own tribute to Loud Shirt Day.
You can see a time lapse video of how I made the shirt by clicking on the link: Loud Shirt Day time lapse.
Cocktail Evening
This past Saturday Daniel (we call him “Step†for reasons I don’t really understand) along with Sebastian were celebrating their simultaneous birthdays. Step wanted a formal cocktail evening, all dressed up with a proper bar, finger food and a cocktail menu of his own devising. I’d like to think it was somewhat my influence because he knows how much I like to mix cocktails.
We were all under strict instructions to dress up and I was asked to man the bar. I was a little apprehensive at the possibility that I might bump into Spaz, since we haven’t spoken in some time. That said, I was excited about the prospect of bartending.
I arrived early, at around 3pm to help make the cocktail food. They’d built a bar for me! When I say “built a bar†one of the guys (an engineer) had literally constructed a free-standing bar out of spare wood, rustic, but sturdy and functional. They had even bought all new glassware. There may not have been more than one and a half teaspoons in the whole place, but they had more than enough martini glasses for a formal function.