Archives For New Zealand

Beetle and The Spider

December 11, 2014 — 32 Comments

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It was late and the bottle of wine was slowly emptying and the tongues of cigarette smoke licked my cheeks as they rose and assembled in haze above us. We said we hoped it would rain.
There are not many things that go together like lateness and wine and rain on a tin roof.
So when it rained we drank more wine and I told stories and said silly things.

And then there was Beetle.

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Dearests,
My dad has passed away quite suddenly and thrown the world into a shambles. Please bear with me as I take some time off to do the things daughters have to do when their fathers go away.

I’m still here, I’m just going to be a little quiet for a little time…

Thank you for sticking around,
Yours,
Vanessa

365

600 days! I’ve been a ghost over the last few months, but I have been very much still walking through these 1000 single days and can confirm that I am still as pure as the driven snow, I have made it to day 600 with celibacy still firmly in tact! Yahoo!
I have been neglecting the blog due to the fact that I have been holidaying in New Zealand having the best summer of my entire life. I have never been so happy and have been busy with incredible experiences and I am sorry that I haven’t published an update in so long but hey, I knew the freedom and carefree time of summer would make sticking to the single days pledge a bit harder so I have taken to keeping myself very busy to stay distracted. Oh, I have so many things to tell you about though and have been chipping away on a post when I find spare moments and will try and get that up in the next few days.

I am more content and happy now than I have ever been, now lets get the last 400 days over and done with!

Losing count…

November 3, 2013 — 29 Comments

Where are we? Do the days ever matter anymore?
Have I lost count? Yes.
When? I don’t remember. Probably around the time that I realized that it wasn’t about the days anymore, it wasn’t about counting down as if day 1000 was the goal. That day 1000 may never come just as tomorrow may never come as just as planning for the future keeps us facing the future, you cant place the future on a pedestal as being the point. Because it isn’t the point.

Now is the point. Just now.

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Half way baby

October 19, 2013 — 16 Comments

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I cant believe the date passed me by and I didn’t know it! On October 19th it was day: 500
My mother said that it has been so long since I had written and people may think I have ‘fallen off the wagon’ so to speak so before I go home now and write to you all properly I want to celebrate this moment with you and just let you know that there has been no falling off any wagon. I have just done 500 single days as true as I had promised I would on day one.
I have so much to tell you, oh so much! If I have learned anything these past 500 days it would be this: Life can change in a moment.
My next post will go into all the details and I will begin writing that now. HALF WAY BABY!

Vanessa’s riddle

September 10, 2013 — 31 Comments

Little helmets arch toward
Keen to keep the moving forward
Bellies pressing, pressing more
Unto the restless splintered floor
A hundred, thousand, million strides
A million more, wont see us tired
Splinter, bruise and callous healed
Faithful, tiny battle shields

What am I?

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Me on our beautiful South Coast beach, Australia at sunset.

There is a scripture, which I think of sometimes. “He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.”

I consider what people suggest life is about. I consider too how even those with all the ingredients for happiness: A family, job security and a place to call home, can then be struck with depression or ill health and so I wonder how then can someone truly be at peace, and if they can, where would they find it?

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Things.

June 15, 2013 — 41 Comments

Things that can make me happy:
Orange juice
Watching someone try to whistle after getting a tooth filling
Knowing all the words to a song
Olive oil
The smell of the smoke after you blow out a match
The way my son doesn’t believe that I understand his jokes
The sing-song way the women talk in old movies
Spagetti
Fire
Films that change my life
Photographs of people doing something they always wanted to do
Live music
That cows have best friends

Things that can’t make me happy:
Things.

365

One year passes me by. And yes, I have remained true.
635 days to go….

The undoing

April 9, 2013 — 67 Comments

I am sitting here trying to see where it began.
If I go back far enough will I find it? If I walk back further along the path will I eventually find a small, worn sign hunched over in the bramble and thorns and thicket that was the path of the last 5 years of my life that reads ‘Danger! Turn back now”? And if I do find that warning will I realize I missed it? What would it all mean then?
Will it mean it could have been prevented?
Will it become my fault, or was this meant to happen to me?

The fingers that are tapping away on this computer are connected to a woman who is more aware than ever of the richness of life, who is thankful for small graces, who is thankful every day for the very life I nearly never had.
Knowing that, can I find purpose in that suffering? Was it all worth it?

This is the story of the undoing.
My undoing.
You already know this story. While you haven’t read it yet, as you do you will realize it is familiar to you because you have seen this story unfold before in either the life of your girlfriend, your daughter, your father, or the person who stares blankly back at yourself from the mirror.

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So where was I? Oh yes. We had just finished living at the quarry, and then we were moving.

Do you know anyone who has lived on a farm? Yes? How about someone who lived on a farm, but in a bus? Yes? Ok, well then do you know anybody who lived on a farm, in a bus, with circus performers? No? Well let me tell you the next part of this story so that you can finally say that you do in fact know someone who lived on a farm, in a bus, with circus performers.
I don’t know why we moved from the quarry I really don’t remember. I wonder who initiated the move?
My mother? Did she get tired of pulling her kids down from precarious cliff faces? Was the dust getting to her?
Or was it my father? Did he grow bored of living in that quarry? Was it too unoriginal? Did he want a more curious address?
Well for whatever the reason was, all I know is that the next chapter of our life was… interesting.

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I thought I would tell you the very strange and curious story of the baby named Baby. Some of the things you are about to read will sound too strange to be true, but it is this story that will prove that sometimes truth can indeed be stranger than fiction, and I know that everything in this story is true, as the baby is me, and the story is mine.

I call this tale, “The baby named Baby.”

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Lost and found Pt 1

August 26, 2012 — 47 Comments

I cannot find the beginning to this story. Every time I think I have found it, I realise that there was something that preceded that moment, which preceded another moment, and the further back I go, the more history seems to light up, and as I sit here, I realise that if I were to truly tell this story and give it any real justice, I would have to write a book, and a book will come, but not today, so I will have to pick the part of the story which I love the most, and make that the beginning.

And so, the part of this story that I love the most, was the night he kissed me, and that, I suppose, really was the beginning of a story that would span over 10 years, and not end in happily ever after.

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A very scary story Pt 2

August 21, 2012 — 14 Comments

You don’t want to reckon with a Dutch man. Well, you don’t really want to reckon with a Dutch person full stop. But one night, we not only reckoned with a Dutch man, but we brought him to his knees in quivering fear. And this is how we did it….

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A very scary story Pt 1

August 20, 2012 — 17 Comments

The story I am about to tell you cannot truly be understood, or visualized unless you can imagine the scene in which it is set. I have set this scene as well as I possibly can in my previous story: “After living in a hospital, we moved to paradise’

If you have not read that story, I suggest you do so first, so that when I begin explaining the strange and scary series of events that takes place in this story, you can see the scenery in your mind, and ‘remember’ it almost as well as I do.

The story I am about to share with you, as all my previous tales, is 100% true and unembellished. Our stories need no embellishment. They are strange enough and scary enough and curious enough as they occurred.

I call this: A very scary story.

Remember those long summers I told you of, where we ran free through mountains, and bush land and swam in oceans so deep and blue and warm under full summer sun?….well, there is something I left out.

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On December  30th 1994 we left behind the caravans and house buses and house boats and abandoned hospitals and general gypsie lifestyle and moved over the hills and far away to a place called Helena Bay

Helena Bay (Te Mimiha Bay)

Helena Bay, also known in the Maori translation as being Te Mimiha Bay, sits on the cusp of the Bay of Islands in New Zealand.

Our new home was purchased with the money we made when we sold The House (which you can imagine was substantial because as you remember Annie had sold it to us for only a few thousand clams as revenge on her bastard husband)
Our new home was the colour of lime milk; rather unsightly but better than the colour of hospital.
A hedge ran the full length of the property as did Pohutokawas. In the back yard: Fejoia tress, Paw Paw, Lemons, Mandarines, Apples.

Also in the backyard: a heavy red gate framed with more hedge led to a vast farm belonging to our neighbors which we adopted as our own land. A river ran through the property opening its large mouth into water holes where we would spend long summer days skinny dipping and lounging in the grass with fruit picked as we dashed bare foot past the fruit trees. We would drag pup tents to the waters edge and camp under the trees and make little fires on the shore of the large water holes and though we were young our parents let us go because we had permission to seek adventure.
Oh, and I must tell you about the wasps.

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The baby named Baby Pt 2

August 16, 2012 — 9 Comments

So where was I? Oh yes. We had just finished living at the quarry, and then we were moving.

Do you know anyone who has lived on a farm? Yes? How about someone who lived on a farm, but in a bus? Yes? Ok, well then do you know anybody who lived on a farm, in a bus, with circus performers? No? Well let me tell you the next part of this story so that you can finally say that you do in fact know someone who lived on a farm, in a bus, with circus performers.
I don’t know why we moved from the quarry I really don’t remember. I wonder who initiated the move?
My mother? Did she get tired of pulling her kids down from precarious cliff faces? Was the dust getting to her?
Or was it my father? Did he grow bored of living in that quarry? Was it too unoriginal? Did he want a more curious address?
Well for whatever the reason was, all I know is that the next chapter of our life was… interesting.

Continue Reading…

The baby named Baby Pt 1

August 16, 2012 — 8 Comments

I thought I would tell you the very strange and curious story of the baby named Baby. Some of the things you are about to read will sound too strange to be true, but it is this story that will prove that sometimes truth can indeed be stranger than fiction, and I know that everything in this story is true, as the baby is me, and the story is mine.

I call this tale, “The baby named Baby.”

Continue Reading…