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breakfast:

i’m still here lol. i’m feeling happily contented, and it’s still raining 🙂

starting to feel slightly tired, thank fuck.

i think my breakfast may have something to do with that … i was surprised i made it with burning the shit out of it.

what are the chunky things i hear you ask?

more chorizo 😉

bona petite and have a lovely sunday ❤

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so, here I am … still:

it is now 7.08am … good lord lol.

i am currently on Michael Jacksons “Off The Wall”, and have about another 20 albums to wade through.

strangely enough, i’m enjoying my semi tired, leaning more toward the over-insomniated, meanderings …

i’m thinking coffee and a possible walk before the rest of this stuck up small town, gets their moaning asses up, jumps on our local Facebook page and has a pathetic weekend gripe.

*i’ve lost my cat*

*my rubbish bin got tipped over*

*theres sand on my tyres*

at least i keep mine to my blog lol

or … i could make pancakes?!

pancakes sounds good actually …

pancakes, coffee, michael me old mate .. then a walk.

anyway … good morning peeps 🙂

so, here i am ..

3.16 am. over a half a sedative later, and I’m still awake.

Decided not to fight it, so got up to finish cleaning my vinyl collection. Yep, still at it.

I’m onto George Benson ❤

I’m feeling aight … not frustrated, which is good.

I know I’ve got to keep doing exactly want I need to when I want to.

Nothing extra.

I know I love music, food, art, and creating shit.

I figure music is good for 3.16 am … so I’m rolling with that.

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mauri of me #38 ~ my music

You, know, I thought I’d already covered music. But apparently not. So here it is, my explanation (of sorts), of my love … affinity … gravitation … toward and with music.

I’m not a genre buff per se. If I had to pick one it would have to be R&B … which is pretty wide.

But my love of music probably happened before I was even birthed lol. My Nan would sing to Me when I was little, and I actually remember some of those songs 🙂

Her and I would watch old movies with Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds …  She also loved classical and operatic music. My Nan is where my love of Dance was nurtured ❤

As I got older I was more influenced by Christian / Pentecostal ‘worship’ music, but absolutely loved Black Gospel. Theres nothing quite like the old Gospel.

My mother was / is a musician and still plays the guitar. When I was growing up I remember her music and her guitaring. She’d listen to ‘folk’ type music, like Peter, Paul and Mary … Simon and Garfunkel. Now whilst that wasn’t exactly my favourite, I guess it influenced what I was drawn too.

Because we were raised ‘Christian’, we weren’t allowed to listen to what was deemed ‘mainstream’ music. That didn’t stop Me, obviously, and made the listening to the ‘forbidden’ that much sweeter.

I’d find old cassette tapes and tape the songs that would come on the radio, as quickly as I could, before my mother got out of the shower, or returned from the supermarket lol. I kept those tapes tucked away and would listen to them when my mother was out or we went to my Grandparents. I was influenced by your mainstream ‘pop’ at the time, (the 80s), and because I was a dancer, that type of music also influenced my overall love of music.

Another great music memory for Me, is my Grandfather. I’d go to work with him when I was at their house for the holidays. This is something I absolutely loved. It is one of the few memories that I’ve clung on to over the years. It’s where my love for building and concrete and making things, comes from. And during these ‘work sessions’ with my Grandfather, he’d listen to the local radio station. I got to hear all the new songs and radio being what it is, they’d play the songs over and over, which meant I got to learn all the words 🙂

By the time my first daughter was born, I’d sing to her. It’s also one of the best memories I have of an extremely stressful, sad time – holding her, and rocking her and singing her to sleep.

I did the same when my second baby girl was born too, and she had the same reaction. She’d go all limp and relaxed, look at Me as I’d sing to her; smile and then go to sleep 🙂

And as the years went on, I was influenced by Country and Western, Heavy Metal, Rock, Jazz, Soul, Blues, Hip Hop, Underground, Thrash, D&B, House, Dub, Reggae, Ska … the list goes on. The first 2 were never my favourite genres but they still added to my ‘taste’.

I guess music has always been with Me.

It eases Me in ways I can’t explain. It helps Me to vent, focus, re focus … and as I’ve moved throughout the years, I’ve figured out what ‘does it for Me’. I’m drawn to the eerie minor keys and tones and those come in all genres. I’m not particularly drawn to lyrics as is the ‘norm’; but instead am drawn to ‘the feel’ or the ‘atmosphere’ that a piece of music gives.

It’s not something I could live without I don’t think. Although I have sensitive little ears lol, I think of all the ‘disabilities’ I wouldn’t want … the loss of hearing would be the hardest.

For Me, music holds some of my best memories I’ve got ❤

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fyi …

I’ve just been informed the world is supposed to end today.

Again.

Not sure if thats metaphorical re elections, or literal.

Any who …

I thought I’d give my vinyl collection a clean and a listen 😉

*bring it on*

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feature artist: prince

What is there to say?

The Man.

The Master.

so fucking annoying

Should of been 365 things that are
Fucking annoying

Think I would’ve found it easier
To come up with daily shit

For example, well 21 examples:

1. Windows 10 reminder update
2. The neighbours Bogan music
3. Holiday makers
4. ACCs, ‘please hold’, music
5. The cat
6. Ultra fast NOT broadband
7. Spell check, that respells FUCK into DUCK
8. There’s no FUCK off button for Facebook
9. Facebook
10. Randoms, that text the partner for favors, not me, the mean one
11. Pop up ads
12. The rip in my shorts
13. WordPresses new ‘New Post’ layout
14. Messenger
15. Junk mail
16. Fast drying paint pfft
17. No brownies
18. Running out of water
19. Battery in the tablet going flat
20. Charger for the tablet shitting itself
21. Spellcheck changing shitting into shutting and having to go back and change it!

Now that was easy peasy

I suppose no Buddhist monk
Ever said the old inner peace
And tranquility,
Was going to happen during the adverts

Assholes

+++++++

First Published on: Jan 21, 2016 @ 19:59 LOL and ❤

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366 reasons to smile ~ +218.

+218. 🙂image

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unforgettable?…1997

I can remember bits and pieces of events, but I can’t place them on an accurate timeline. That’s how 95ish to 99ish go. As I’ve re-read some of my stuff I know its in the wrong order…with dashes of stuff I had completely forgotten, till I dreamt it. But oh well…that’s the whole point of this…

I was introduced to underground hip hop during the ‘critter era’. It’s one of my bestest things from this wretched but enlightening era. While everything was a hazy cloud of drunkenness, fucking, drugs and pain…I found this. Not by accident of course. Through my brother.

I don’t talk about my brother much. It’s a bit of a sore soft spot. But he gave me these gifts…acceptance and hip hop.

I don’t mean gangster rap…or even rap. I mean thesaurus-ised lyrical flow. And beats. Head nodding, heart thumping, beats.

I found Method Man…Wu…Nas…Mobb Deep…Goodie Mob…Outkast…Lauryn Hill…Keith Murray…Onyx…Pharohe Monch…Gangstarr…Mos Def…Talib Kwali…Lost Boyz…The Arsonists…The High and Mighty…Black Star…Dilated Peoples…

I found old school DJing…turntables, mixer and vinyl.

And I was privileged to be introduced to my brothers lyrical talent. I became a bit of a ‘brothers performances’ groupie :). I loved watching and listening to him…I still do. He’s one of the most talented lyricists I know.

He accepted me where I was at. My little brother, who by the way is a few feet taller than me. He let me be. I didn’t treat his acceptance as I should have, probably. But I loved him as well as I could.

I had a critter ‘boyfriend’ at this stage. Boyfriend/partner is a very loose term for what we deemed as a sort of formal relationship. We lived together, argued together, screwed and drank. But I didn’t want titles or restraints and pretty much did as I pleased. He didn’t like that much. After I moved out and went flatting with other peeps…he broke in and ripped us off. The End Of That. Karma really.

I decided to study design…just randomly. The course involved beauty sectors, clothing fashion and design and modeling. Hmmmm. I did brilliantly in all areas except for hospitality lol…but I didn’t like it. I attended possibly half of the course…it was interfering with my drinking schedule…and still managed to come out on top. Mentally it wasn’t much of a challenge but it showed me what I didn’t like…and it did reignite my interest in design.

I visited my girls every other weekend; they came and stayed every other weekend. When they came, I removed everyone and everything that could harm them…or that wasn’t a good influence for them. No drinking, no drugs, no swearing. No critters. Pretty hypocritical really, but I knew enough to know what I didn’t want them round that kind of stuff. And I knew I still wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be able to protect them properly…this was my way of doing that.

I danced…whilst drinking…a lot..the dancing was probably a good outlet for me.

I flatted with a really good friend somewhere around this time…we were drinking mates, but also similar in personalities. We’re still friends today.

I was mates with my brothers girlfriend about this time. We drank together too. She had a stable kind of life though…and was wealthy. Nothing I was used to. She’d lend me her car to go and see the girls, who by this time, were living quite a distance from me. When they left with their father, it was on the understanding that they would be moving 20 minutes from where I was staying. That never happened. Instead they moved about 5 hours away. With no car, or transport, it made it hard going to see them or picking them up. But I did it…with the help of friends…and family. My ‘brothers girlfriend’ mate, had a mother that drank as much as I did…if not more. But she was socially ‘acceptable’…she held down a very productive job…even though she’d show up pissed…she had shitloads of money…and the ability to buy shitloads of very expensive alcohol.

Somewhere in here, my father showed up again. He had a habit of showing up every 7-10 years…to make an appearance…try to reconnect…blah blah. I did a bit of it…but was still pretty pissed off with him.

Around this time I became quite fascinated with figuring out the minds of rapists, serial killers, mass murderers and pedophiles. I get now, that I was trying to figure out, the ‘why’. I didn’t then. But it started a string of events that led to my degree in the end. But for this time, I read a lot of books…John Douglas, ex fbi profiler…Robert Ressler…Behavioural Analysis type stuff.

In the mean time, did I mention I drank ALOT.

This was a time that I spent a lot of time regretting and feeling guilty about. I tried to fancy it up and make myself sound remorseful and gutt wrenching-ly sorrowful And to some extent I have been just that. Especially for my babies.

There’s also another part of me that knows this is exactly what needed to happen to get me onto the next phase.

I’ve watched both my girls grow up; one has nearly made her way through her twenties, the other is just starting. And they have been unsettled…questioning…changing…uncomfortable…angry…elated…desperate…and I think that’s what your twenties are supposed to look like?! It is an awkward kind of uncomfortable time when your still figuring out who the hell you even are let alone where you want to be in 5 to 10 years time. And yeah, I’ve heard some peeps who can describe in fine detail where their lives are going to be during and after their twenties. And most of those peeps got a little fucked up along the way as life threw shit at them and they were desperately unprepared. So not to down the know it alls…but mistakes are all part of the process I think…and the twenties seemed to be filled to the brim with those.

For me…while I have guilt for some of the shit I did during this time…actually a lot of it…I know it was necessary. I needed to let rip.

First Published on: Jul 26, 2015 @ 00:53 ❤

when we sing

I used to cry every time I heard my girl sing. It became, and still is really, a long-standing joke for them now…little shits. But there is something that happens for every Mama I think, when you see or hear, the essence of your children. I don’t just mean those typical proud moments…when they walk, they go to school, they’re in a school play, they get an award…those proud moments. I mean those things, that they don’t see you see…the things that you watch, grin at, laugh at…cry at.

Well, when my girl sings, performs, I howl like a little girl lol. Some if it is because she sings in our native language …which none of us, in our family, speak fluently. I won’t go into the colonial ramble at the moment…but needless to say, our language was one of the first things the colonialist shredded from our culture. There has been a huge revitalization over the past 20 plus years, but it’s not a journey I have started yet. Partially my issues with…not being a ‘real Maori’…being to white…being side tracked with a few other fucked up issues throughout the years.

But I knew enough, by the time my children were with me again, to put my girls in a bilingual school. Which meant they were able to be part of their language and culture without feeling like it was foreign. My eldest embraced it. My youngest, embraced it and strangled the shit out of it!

There is something ancient that I feel when I hear the rawness of what is/was ours, as first nation people’s. And hearing it come from my girls, is beyond amazing. Then there’s the singing side of it. I love music. I love nearly all music; I possibly have a bit of trouble with death metal and classical…but I can appreciate the lyrics of the first and the minor keys of the latter. Overall though, if it touches my soul; makes my toes tap; makes the hips swing or the head nod…I’ll listen over and over. And for me, a lot of my memories are attached to music. I might not remember a year; a date; a particular event in the sequence that it took place; but I can tell you where I was when I heard a particular song; what I felt like; what was happening around me…I love my music. It soothes me.

And when my girl sings in our old language, I cry…I unashamedly cry. Not unhappy tears…just proud, soul wrenching, loving, beautiful Mama tears.

I thought I didn’t have anything to do with her singing…I wouldn’t describe my own voice as Mariah Carey’s soul sister or anything. But, I love music…and I’d forgotten, till my recent unfolding, that I sang to them all the time. From the time they stepped out of the womb…I sang to them.

I think it was probably my way of showing affection. Touch is not really my thing! At all. I pretty much dislike it a lot, ALOT! But I can convey how I feel, about me, to them, when I sing to them. And I love them dearly.

Well, my youngest Moko (grandchild), who is nearly one, has been here all week with her Mama, my youngest girl. And I sing to my Moko all the time too…and she loves it. It’s the first time I’ve really recognized that the babies, my babies, respond to it. And this little Moko midget is just beautiful…she sits on my lap, waves her hands in the air, turns out her palms and looks at me. I say to her…’do you want me to sing your song?’, and she claps her hands. So we sing…she does the actions and then laughs.

Watching her, and my daughter, through the week, I realized how much I’ve impacted positively on my gene pool lol! I have been so scared of damaging them all…only to discover that they love and get how I love them.

First Published on: Jul 19, 2015 @ 23:16 ❤ ❤