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artivism ~ #lestweforget – te ngutu o te manu

translation : ‘the Beak of the Bird’

.

every year we remember the queen and her god dam birthday.

it has no relevance to us and if anything, is a fucking insult.

her imported colonial disease ridden troops,

borrowed from all corners of the globe.

stolen from other countries and cultures they had killed off.

absorbing their people into their front line troops.

expendable i think they call them.

.

of this batch, came mongrels.

commemorated mongrels.

that have streets and parks named after them.

plaques and crosses erected in their honour.

scattered all over our land

stand their erections of dysfunction.

it reads the dead memory:

this cross is erected in memory

of the officers & men who fell or died

from wounds received near this spot

in engagements with the maori tribes on the night

of August 20th and the morning of

August 21st 1868 and on September 7th 1868.

and 1oo years on

they remembered tangata whenua

as an after thought they named one,

and mention those

who were not caught up in an engagement.

but were defending their lands.

their homes.

their families.

their right.

to live.

their turangawaewae.

it reads:

Te Ngutu O Te Manu

This domain marks the locality of the fortified village Te Ngutu o te Manu

which in 1868 was the headquarters of the Maori tohunga and warrior chief,

Titokowaru.

On 21 August 1868 it was attacked and partially destroyed

by colonial forces commanded by Lieutenant~Colonel McDonnell.

A second assault made on 7 September by a combined European and Maori force,

resulted in a decisive victory for the defenders.

Among those killed on this occasion was Inspector Von Tempsky

of the Armed Constabulary who led one of the three

detachments of the attacking forces.

and still its commemoration

is polluted with blaming language.

the type that makes the engage-ees

complicit in their own demise.

and places the perpetrator in a more

respectable, victorious and historic light.

but no mention, other than the word ‘village’

denotes the sanctity of this place.

the place; when your feet touch the ground

you can hear the children,

and the soothing song of their mamas.

where; as you brush your finger tips over the branches,

you can smell the blood.

the tears.

where you can feel the war cry.

where you can feel the strategy,

the survival.

in the sunshine and the rain

you can feel their voices

whispering their strength

whispering their lives.

you can feel their voices

raging against the invasion

standing under the power of their ancient maunga

and their beautiful tipuna.

#lestweforget

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366 reasons to smile ~ +180

+180. I can follow this logic 😉

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beer and burgers and the weekend that was

A bit overdue I know … but I’ve been processing. Gotta love the processing part lol.

As Friday night closed and Saturday morning rolled around, I ended up more stressed than anxious I think. To most, they may seem like the same thing – To Me they are distinctly different. Stress, of the mundane kind, I can deal with but it makes Me butt ugly angry. So if anything, I call it being pissed off; those looking on, call it ‘over dramatised stress’. So really thats got more to do with them, than Me. And anxiety, for Me, is the pre requisite for a panic attack. The distinct difference, is the latter is a debilitating ass wipe that leaves Me feeling vulnerable, not angry.

Angry gets shit done.

Vulnerable leaves you debilitated.

So, rolling with stressed on Saturday morning, I’m asking the partner (because this is his soirée) …

‘so, what time is everyone coming?’ … ‘dunno’ …

‘what time did you tell people to come?’ … ‘saturday’ …

Oh my fuck! And thats how most of the day rolled out.

Now I’ve come to grips with the partner being as he is. A man. He doesn’t plan like Me; he doesn’t organise, anything – and he definitely doesn’t do time frames. He actually adds to the anxiety that is Me, but I’ve also learnt a lot from him … I’ve had too otherwise I’d be fucking insaner than I already am!

So 12 o’clock rolls by, as does 1 … and I’m hungry as fuck lol.

‘Dear … can we make some food?’ … ‘Um … I haven’t got any buns … they’re coming’

WTF? LOL.

So peeps start arriving at this point and there isn’t any food.

“Learning Moment” … I pulled the partner aside and ever so gently said to him …

“Do you have a Plan B sweetheart?” … ‘Nope’ … “So this is where, as anal as I am, I would have a Plan B”. He looks at Me a little astounded and says, “Ok, so if I was to have a Plan B, what do you suggest that should be?” …

Oh my fuck, is all I’m thinking.

“Plan B would have been purchasing some spare buns and having them in the cupboard. It would be buying more than 1 lettuce to feed 25 people … so maybe 4 or 5 … and then the rest of the salad ingredients … Plan B would be ensuring I had all the meat patties here and ready to go.”

“Ohhhhh” … says Partner … “That sounds good”.

*groan*

And while that conversation right there pretty much sums up the whole day: I must say, I coped pretty fucking gangstah-ly with the whole thing!

The family came – landed – caused chaos – and departed. And I watched, slightly interacted, and felt reasonably unaffected.

The friends came – landed – settled in – caused abit of chaos – and departed. And again, I watched, slightly interacted where I wanted too, and felt reasonably unaffected.

What I found super duper interesting, is whilst I was ‘Managing Myself’, quite a few of those around Me found that -how would you put it – threatening?!. They wanted Me to engage in their incessant grizzling; they wanted Me to ‘put shoes on’; they wanted Me to drink; the wanted Me to eat more. And as I said No, or thank you – No thank you … they squirmed something awful. It made them feel enormously uncomfortable. And usually that discomfort effects Me, as in it makes Me feel anxious. But not this time.

I was able to see what was happening, and more importantly, see that it wasn’t my problem at all 🙂

So as the night wore on I ended up being one of the last ones awake. There were a few hard cores that stayed up and drank themselves into a stupor. But all in all, I enjoyed my night. And so did my partner!

What I was mostest proudest of for him and Me, is we both managed ourselves; did our thang, separately and individually … but we both allowed each other to do Us. It was quite liberating for the both of Us 😉 I think he enjoyed not having to ‘babysit’ Me. He’s figured out that I am capable of managing myself, its just other people that don’t like how I do that, but thats not his problem – Or Mine 🙂

There was an ‘incident’, of which I am still processing – whereby a friend took offence to another friends manner. As I have been told – the 2nd friend was hitting on the first friends husband.

What I found most interesting, again … is while I’m pretty good at picking up whats going on around Me; somehow, I completely missed this!

My daughter said to Me later, that I hadn’t picked it up because I’m ‘not like that’. I didn’t, and still don’t, understand, what that means. But she says I don’t do drama therefore hadn’t picked up on what I guess I deemed to be, un-necessary drama. I was a bit distraught that our mate had been offended and felt uncomfortable by the whole situation – but it did leave Me wondering – If that was a flirtatious encounter that was witnessed by everyone around Me, then it wasn’t very good!

Needless to say – I don’t have a romantic or flirtatious bone in my body 😉

So, all in all, a good weekend … many burgers consumed (finally), and many beers had … and for Me, survival skills employed succinctly! I think I’m looking forward to the next event, which is fucking amazing for Me !

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artivism ~ deconstruction

analysis
əˈnalɪsɪs/
detailed examination of the elements or structure of something.
 .
deconstruction
diːk(ə)nˈstrʌkʃ(ə)n/
a method of critical analysis of philosophical and literary language which emphasizes the internal workings of language and conceptual systems, the relational quality of meaning, and the assumptions implicit in forms of expression.
.
Depending on how you look at something, the view will always be different. Depending on who is doing the looking, the view will also always be different.
The art of dismantling something so that you can see it from a different perspective, is analysis and deconstruction.
In art terms, it works just the same way.
You start with something reasonably mundane.
Like a washing machine.
And you strip it down to its larger parts.
Then you take those larger parts and dismantle them further.
You view them from different angles.
It always looks different depending on where your looking ‘from’.
And it looks bigger or smaller, depending on how much you’re focussing on it and fading out whats around it.
I love this perspective. The ability to see something in it’s totality –
And then in its totality as an ‘individual’ thing.
Being able to appreciate the function of ‘items’:
And then the uniqueness and beauty of the intricacies of each of those parts.
And depending on where you’re looking, you’ll see beauty in the most unusual places.
And this is how I view my world;
And the world around Me.

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366 reasons to smile ~ +179.

+179. LOL … 😉