Goodbye Gemini, Hello Hubba Hubba

And so we returned back home. Or at least home for me. The sister and I have been away for the past couple weeks and it feels like a lifetime has been and gone since I last set foot in my home. She's been visiting from Canada. For Christmas. 5.5 weeks of awesomeness.

Our last two weeks was planned as an adventure exploring the famous Abel Tasman and surrounding area. Ferry booked, rental car organised and two packs crammed full of camping gear - we were set. I just didn't expect my tent to fall to pieces in the process.

Camping in daisy fields - British Columbia

I knew my tent was on it's last legs when I pulled it out to make sure it was ready to go for our holiday. It was the tent I had gotten years ago in Canada when I first starting doing backcountry camping. My first tent. It had all my first memories of heading off to the bush with nothing but the gear on my back. It got me across British Columbia - 7 weeks of just me and the Canadian wilderness as I walked from Banff to Vancouver.

When I knew I was to walk New Zealand, I had that tent shipped to Australia. I used it there while I lived at a local campground in Broome, WA. It was home for 2 months while I did final preparation work for Te Araroa Trail. And then I brought it to New Zealand.

The first major rain storm in New Zealand left me with the realization that my MEC Gemini 3-season tent had started to reach the end of it's life. It had lost all of it's waterproofing function and much like a bad rainjacket is useless in the wet, waking up in a puddle from water seeping up from the ground was even more annoying. At the time Alex and I were forced to fork over a few hundred to get a new tent for our adventure.

Since then my Canadian tent has sat waiting in storage. Waiting for the day that I would finally take it out again and invest a bit of time and money into re-waterproofing its fabric. A couple weeks ago that day finally arrived. I set it up during one of Wellington's glorious sunny days and got about spraying my tent with waterproofer. When it had fully dried, I took off the fly only to find that the velcro strips that had attached the fly to the tent poles had worn out their glue and popped off, falling to the ground like a tree loses its leaves. I tried to ignore the fact that my tent was literally starting to fall apart.

On it's last legs - note the tarp through the "window"

It was at our first campsite on route to Nelson that I began to accept that maybe my tent wouldn't last the next couple weeks, let alone another season of camping. As the sister and I set it up, I noticed that one of the windows had started to come away from the fly. It was just a simple piece of plastic glued to the fly of the tent in a triangle shape that allowed more light into the tent and the ability for me to spy on everything from the inside - but they had hung on for years. Until now. The gap between the piece of plastic and the fly mocked me as though the tent was daring me to try and fix it. We gave it our best shot - sort of.

A few minutes later and a lot of bandaides, plastic bags and sports tape later, we had resealed the window. Just as we posed for a photo to show our accomplishment for the day, the tape started to peel away. All we could do was compensate by adding a tarp to the mix and cross our fingers that if rain came that we wouldn't be washed away with the mess of it all.

By the time we got to the next campsite, both windows literally fell out of their holes. We attached the tarp under the fly, but each time the wind got strong, a corner would blow off its peg and flap against the tent.

I had no choice but to fork over the money for a new tent.

The new tent in all its glory

My purchase of the MSR Hubba Hubba tent has been something I have dreamed about for years. It has been a tent I have lusted after for as long as I can remember and I was finally in a position to not just need it, but also have the money to get it. And yet my excitement was tainted by the fact that my getting a new tent was because the old one had finished its days of providing me shelter while in the great outdoors.

Everything about my old tent is ingrained in my memory. It was one of the few possessions in my life that I truly feel sentimental about. Much like people feel about getting rid of their first car, first apartment, first love - I have felt that way about my blue and yellow tent. The nights I have spent sleeping there, hiding out from the rain or simply living my life because I was too cheap to get more structured accommodation are more than I can count.

The memories I have had in there - it was the tent that gave me the freedom to explore the backcountry. It was the tent that made me feel safe when it was dark, cold or the threat of wild animals was near. It was the tent that inspired me to take on the challenge of Te Araroa Trail. It featured in many of my travel photos and even in the promotional video done for walking New Zealand. It was the tent I carried on my back for weeks on end. It was my sanctuary. And now it is gone.

I threw my old one in the trash the day before we came back to Wellington and it was bittersweet. It was sad. And yet I felt a new thrill of hope and wonder for what will be with my new tent. At the very least I can rest assured that wherever it takes me I will stay dry without fear of any windows falling out.

A Picture Says a Thousand Words - Sometimes I Wish They'd Stop Talking to Me

Lately I have been so busy being bogged down with being "in the moment" that I have lost sight of where I have come from and what that means for where I want to go. This past year has been filled with many ups and downs for me - for each moment of celebration and happiness there has been an equally devastating moment eager to suck the air from my lungs. It hasn't been an easy year, but I feel that it has been one to make me stronger... even more so than walking the length of New Zealand ever did.

Today I took a moment to reflect on exactly all that I have done - not just this past year, but as far back as what my Facebook photos would allow me to time-travel. All of a sudden I found myself overcome with such a fullness in my heart... a fullness for all the experiences I have had. All the friends I made. All the places I have seen. All the laughter had. All the life lived.

What surprised me the most was that a majority of the photos captured I remembered when they were taken. And I remembered forcing myself (many, many times) to post them on Facebook. I remember forcing myself to ignore how I thought my hair wasn't quite right. To pretend I didn't see just how "big" my thighs looked or how my face appeared wider in comparison to everyone else in the shot. For as long as I can remember, I have always struggled with accepting myself for who I am and being okay of the way I look. And now as those moments have passed and years have gone by, I am able to look at the photos and not critique everything about me... not because that part of me has changed, but because it is far enough in the past that I no longer feel twinged by feelings of shame over my body from that moment in time.

Now that those moments have past, all I see is the smile that reaches my eyes. The laughter I can hear still lingering in the air. The gorgeous surroundings and how - no matter how I try - I can't say anything bad about the person I see reflected in the photos. That person is me. Those moments captured on camera have brought me to where I am today and it forever amazes me to where life has taken me.

And so as this year comes to a close and the next one opens up to a promise of starting anew yet again, I find myself faced with a resolution. A resolution that I learn to accept me for me. Not just who I am as a person - but what I look like at any camera angle. Because 5 years from now when I look back on the photos I take today, everything I find annoyingly hideous won't be noticeable to my eyes. And so it's not worth the mental angst to stress about it now. When I take the time to think about it, I figure I am already a pretty awesome version of myself and trying to reach invisible expectations is simply a waste of my time. I'd rather be celebrating the good times with more photography.

With that in mind, I think it is so incredibly important for all of us to start seeing the beauty of ourselves - regardless of our age, gender or size. For we are all beautiful because of our imperfections, not without them. It is a shame that we can spend so much time idolizing each other in a wrath of green envy on Facebook (though it can take a while for us to admit we do such a thing) when in reality we should be proud of the accomplishments, events and photos of ourselves we post on Facebook and other social media sites. Those sites are essentially a way to market yourself as a "brand," but why do we get so obsessed with making our brand an ideal of what we think we should be rather than just being ourselves?

Anyway - with that rant over and done with, I do hope that I will be able to make more of an effort in my own life to accept the way I look now... not wait for when I get those perfectly toned abs, slim down my legs or tilt my head in just the right way so the camera can capture my face with a slimmer perspective - there's too much going on in life to be worried about such things as it only makes me regret that I didn't fully enjoy those moments I was living as I couldn't appreciate me for me until years later when I was able to face the photos again.

The Cat Came Back.... Yeah Right

I've decided I hate that song. Whoever wrote it obviously hadn't done much house moving with not one, but two cats. The last four weeks have marked some of the most stressful days for me (and the cats) that I can remember. Sure, the house moving went smoothly - but since then I have yet to get to a point where I feel as though the three of us have officially settled in.

It started right from day #1 with all-night howling, crying and door scratching to get outside. I didn't sleep. the nights that followed were much of the same until I got to the point that I couldn't take it anymore. Maybe that makes me selfish, but I didn't care at that point. So I let them outside. Indie didn't have a problem - he knew where his food bowl was. Kaeto, on the other hand, tracked down his old territory and ended up back at my old place happily waiting for my return and completely oblivious that a new person had moved in our old place.

Indie checking the happenings of the great outdoors

For the next week and a half I spent nearly every day going back to the old place to call Kaeto who would come running to me from wherever he was hiding so I could carry him back to the new place. I'd keep him inside for a bit where I'd feed him, pet him, play with him and then eventually let him back out. He'd go straight back to the old place. I got sick of it as I still wasn't sleeping as now I was stressing that Kaeto didn't want to come home.

So I bought some fresh kitty litter, locked the cat door and brought them both inside. I toughed it out for another week and a half with the nightly scratching, howling and crying until they both finally started to settle. Kaeto began to get comfortable and truly showed signs of owning the place. Perfect. I tested the waters again with them outside and was happy as pie with the result until it came time to feed them for dinner. Kaeto had gone. Again.

That was a week ago. I played tough love with him in the hopes that if I didn't come to pick him up at the old place, he would eventually find his way back to me. He didn't. So this morning on my morning run I went back there to pick him up. And now he is in my bedroom with a food bowl and litter box as I scrounge the internet for some magical solution to helping him settle in. Who knew there was such a thing as feline pheromone diffusers to help a cat feel settled. Who knew they would cost $100 a piece. And then there's microchips, cat tags, deterrent sprays, cat treats, harnesses, cat toys and keeping him indoors for good.

My life has become one of cats as of late and as much as I love both of them, I hate that fact. The rest of my life has faded into the distance - the fact that I got my Work Visa extended for another year was minimal news to me. The experience of me doing weekly Rollerfit Classes with a friend to train for Roller Derby next year has been exhausting with my lack of sleep. My choice to finally join a gym so that I can kick it up a notch with my fitness pales in comparison to the daily stress I face in trying to ensure that my cats... maybe just this once... might both decide to call home "Home."

And so cats it is - when I wake up in the morning to when I go to sleep. My decision to hang out with friends or come home early in hopes that maybe today Kaeto might be there waiting for me is an ongoing on. At least today he is home. Now I just have to figure out how to get him to stay when Indie is more that comfortable coming and going as he pleases. One thing is for certain - my experience the past month has left me little motivation to ever want to move house again.

Uprooting and Moving On

As Moving Day creeps closer (8 days and counting), I find myself full of reflection on a vast multitude of subjects within my head. One of which is how moving has become less of a physically stressful thing and more of an emotional one. Less am I worried about what goes in what box or if I have enough tape on hand or even who is going to help me move. Now I find myself increasingly more aware of how moving house feels much like I am a tree uprooting myself from the earth in order to try and re-grow somewhere else. It’s a bit painful. A bit exhausting. A bit as though I actually have to say “Goodbye” to a chapter in my life I am not quite sure I am finished writing. And this time I am simply moving a couple blocks away.

Through all my moving experiences, I have definitely honed my skills to a point where my I have learned a few things on what to do and what not to do. 

1. You can never start packing early enough. If you don’t need it in the next week or two – pack it. One less thing to worry about closer to the day. 
2. No matter how much moving supplies you think you need (boxes, bags, tape, etc), double it. It’s amazing how things seem to grow and multiple once you move them off the shelves and out of the cupboards. 
3. Do not pack all books in one box. Unless, of course, the boxes are really, really small. You will hate yourself on moving day when you have 20 of them to haul. 
4. Skip the newspapers and use your clothes and linen to protect items. I do this for a few reasons – one, you avoid the ridiculously annoying pile of crumpled newspaper at the end of moving day that has no place to go. Two, you actually use less boxes as the newspaper isn’t taking up room and three, I’ve never liked getting newspaper ink all over my hands. 
5. Save a bag to use as an “overnight” bag. Pack it last with what you would if you were going somewhere overnight. This saves the hassle of trying to find your toothbrush the night of moving day when you are so tired you can’t see straight. 
6. Hiring movers is more efficient than doing it yourself. They’re getting paid to haul your 20 boxes of books – save your arms the trouble and get the pros to do it. Plus, it avoids you having to drag your two friends over on their day off to help you with promises of pizza afterwards (during the time you really just want to kick everyone out and curl up in a ball in the corner and sleep for the next 2 days). 
7. It’s easier to start changing your address before you move than after. Avoid the missed mail or redirection fees from the post shop.

Anyway – that’s me. In these last few days of packing a few boxes every couple of days, I had the epiphany that it never really seems real until I take down pictures from the wall and take out the nails that held them up. There’s something about seeing the chipped paint and dark hole through the drywall that seems so final. So bare. So empty.

Those small holes are what bring back memories for me. They were the places I chose to hang things important to me. They were the last thing I did when I moved in – when all boxes were unpacked and it was time to officially put my stamp on my new home. The holes represented me making my mark – creating the environment I wanted with photos, mirrors, hooks and whatever else helped me personalize the space. To take the pictures off their hooks and nails out of the wall makes everything look naked and void. This place is no longer mine and never will be. It is time to say “Goodbye.”

Lucky Number 13

By the end of this month I will have moved house a total of 13 times. Within the past 10 years, I have packed boxes, downsized to what I absolutely needed and hauled my things to a new address. Sometimes this meant many carloads between locations where as sometimes this simply meant packing my backpack with all I owned and strapping it to my back as I walked out the front door to face new adventures.

Of the last 12 places I have lived, I did not include the time I called a campervan my home when in Australia nor did I include when my only home was the tent in my pack as I walked across New Zealand. And so, without those - this next change of address will be number 13.

I am hoping this next place of residence will be my lucky number 13. I am not going far - really just down the road a bit - but I am hoping my choice to live somewhere more affordable with a few other people in a house will allow me to have more flexibility in what I want to do with my life. Financially. Socially. Everything in between.

And so the next couple of weeks will wrap up the last 8 months I have lived in Wellington - it really doesn't feel as though I have been here that long and yet it feels as though I have lived here forever. This little place I call home was the start of the next stage in my life in so many ways and it will be bitter sweet to say goodbye.

I find it difficult to even conceptualize all that has happened in the past few months. Since I last wrote, I have started (and nearly finished) a position of Youth Development Coordinator at work where I have been working on developing a new support service for young adults with disabilities. Between balancing that and my other role of Outcomes Facilitator (supporting individuals with their goals in life) there has been little mental energy at the end of the day for much else. Things such as my art have gone by the wayside as I have been concentrating all my time in sinking my teeth into giving 110% at work.

But I have managed to start to make some connections in the community. I've picked up rock-climbing with a weekly group, continued to go to the markets each Sunday, explored the wide-variety of food and drink in Wellington (a Cambodian restaurant has taken the top of my list), gone to Roller Disco, watched a couple of rugby games and even had the pleasure of showing my mom around this little city I call home.

So as things get hectic in the next couple of weeks as I balance work, moving and sorting out Immigration (yes, my work visa also expires this month) I simply look forward to when the dust settles again and I can press on with all I want my life to be.

Not Quite Home Sweet Home

The letter came today. Immigration declined my Residency Application. I wasn't sure if I should be surprised or not given the tell-tale sign of Immigration approving any visa by first notifying me via email had never come. Just the letter. A letter stating that I was unfit for Residency due to the work conditions of my employment.

Curling up in a ball on the floor near my front door and letting the tears fall, I notified all my close friends of my failed attempt at long term security within New Zealand. Shortly after I made the mental note that perhaps today will just be another page in a book on my life. For who knows what tomorrow will bring. But until tomorrow comes, frustrated does not even begin to describe how I am feeling right now. My nearly 3-year stay in New Zealand has led me to 5 Work Visa applications (one being a Working Holiday), 2 medical + police checks, 1 education assessment of qualifications and the now failed attempt to gain Residency. Total cost? Exactly $5376 - not including postage, cost of passport photos, a new passport, transportation costs, etc.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't blame Immigration for the choice that they've made. They were only following their rule book. I was just hoping that perhaps with me being in the grey area, they could make an exception to their rigidity of rules. Just once.

The financial stress of this process is only a small part of the weight on my shoulders. It's the emotional and mental stress that does me in. The waiting. The deadlines. The not knowing what the future holds. The having no control over where or how I live my life. The knowing from deep within my soul that I am where I am meant to be, yet not having the ultimate say on making that a reality.

When I finally peeled myself from the floor of my front entrance to do something with my evening (or what was left of it), I noticed my horoscope for the day:

You may yearn for the good old days, a simpler time that seems to have slipped through your fingers. But don't worry because there are areas of your life that are still in major transition now. The fun times aren't over just because a current situation demands intense focus. Concentrate on your feelings today, even if  they aren't as whimsical as you prefer. A new round of rewards will arrive sooner than you think.

As hopeful as that sounds, the way I figure it - if the "new round of rewards" don't come soon, I might have to move onto Plan B and get myself a nice Kiwi bloke so New Zealand might want to keep me around a while longer. It's either that or maybe a pot of gold to help me through perhaps another application for Residency.

Dreams Do Come True

I truly believe that anything is possible in life. Dreams do come true. Our deepest desires of life ambitions are something that could be one day. Provided you have the tools and support there to make it happen. I have the privilege of being that very support for people in the job I do. Not only do I get to help people realize their dreams, but I also get to be there to help them plan how they are going to achieve those very special life goals. 

The best part this last week was being able to go to a national gathering of all Outcomes Facilitators in New Zealand where we spent two days discussing how we could better support people to help achieve their goals. To be in a room with people who didn't just think that any dream was achievable, but that any person (no matter their disability) could achieve it -- was inspiring, to say the least. 

It has only been in this last week that I have been able to reflect on my life and the opportunities presented to me as this past month has been one large whirlwind of cramming as much new information in my head as humanly possible. It is just now that the dust has started to settle and I can start to breath again with confidence that I know which direction I am headed in. Or at least until the next challenge needs to be faced. 

One of the challenges I know will come in my near future is my volunteer position with Red Cross Refugee Services. This past month has been many meetings with other volunteers to train on the skills and information needed to work with refugees and not feel completely overwhelmed. Some of us still feel overwhelmed with the task, but at least we have a better idea of what we will be facing. 

For the next six months, us volunteers will be divided into teams and each team will be assigned a refugee family to help settle into life in Wellington. Things that we generally take for granted - how to keep warm in the winter, how to take transit, what an EFTPOS/Debit card does, or even just how to speak in English to get what we want - will generally be a huge challenge for many of the refugees relocating to New Zealand. Again, it is an incredible privilege to be part of this process - to be part of someone's life as it is changing so dramatically - to be part of the process in helping someone create a place they can call home. 

So much of the training for Refugee Services left me feeling amazed at the process that most of these individuals go through. There is so much loss in many of these peoples lives and yet for them to reach the point of being accepted as refugees to a new country, they have already become survivors. Given that the average time spent at any refugee camp waiting for the call to say they have been accepted to a new country is a whole 17 years, it truly is the strong at heart that make it. 

While every refugee's story is different and their anguish personal, they all share a common thread of uncommon courage: the courage not only to survive, but to persevere and rebuild their shattered lives. (Antonio Guterres)

Anyway, back to my life - work is good. Friends are good. The weather is good (though I'm told "winter" is here... I'm still walking around most days with no coat). And I still wait on Residency. The last of my paperwork has gone through and now it's just crossing my fingers in hope that everything I passed on will give me the go ahead for Residency Status. The waiting is hard, but at least I know I am finally starting to feel a bit more settled here in Wellington regardless. Now if I could just get the neighbourhood cat  to stop sneaking into my house when I'm not around..... 

Waiting for the Ball to Drop

It's taken me the entire weekend to finally be able to take a breather and wrap my head around all that has happened this week. Not a lot when has happened when I get down to it, but I've definitely felt everything kick into gear as I have started my new job this week.

All of a sudden the pressure has been on for me to be somewhere at some place at some time. Regardless of the weather, my mental state or how much money I have in my pocket - it's all just a matter of getting it done and though I am thrilled at my new job and everything I get to learn, there is a part of me that is sad to know that my freedom to do what I want when I want is slipping away. Particularly when it is pouring down with rain and I have to walk in it only to get to where I am going and have it stop.

Each day that goes past I am torn between jumping in with both feet and reminding myself that I still do not know what my future holds. Each day that goes by is a brilliant gift where I am allowed to stay here in New Zealand, but it only serves to increase my worry of what tomorrow might bring. For at the end of all my effort to make my life into everything I have ever dreamed it to be, Immigration holds the power to decide if I can continue on this journey or if I must start a new one.

There's something to be said about living each day as though it is your last, but there are aspects of that that are incredibly exhausting on the nerves. It becomes difficult to plan ahead - difficult to know if I should buy the bigger box of tea bags or if it will all be a waste of my time, money and effort should I have to leave it all behind. All I can do is hope that I hear a final answer soon. Tomorrow would be good. Yesterday would have been better.

In the meantime, I continue to try and push forward and plan for my future just the same. My Etsy store online - Paper Kite Creations - is coming along well and I even had my first sale this week (thanks Janelle!). Though my hours are now more limited for creating projects, I am still finding inspiration for new designs that I am excited about being able to create when I do have time.

Time keeps on ticking and one day blends into the next - at least my cats continue to find new ways to entertain themselves.

Back to the Bare Essentials

This week has been one of reassessment on my part in a few areas of my life. I have been excitedly preparing for when I start my new job this Monday and through it, I have managed to reassess my budget based upon what I will be making. Seems simple enough, but this project of mine turned into one of frantically counting pennies to work out something I could actually live with -- wish I could justify living without electricity, but the thought of cold showers and cooking over an open fire didn't seem doable in the long term.

Most of this came through the realization and decision that my new job being part-time hours is a brilliant opportunity for me to seriously pursue my art as a form of income. Completely terrifying, but somehow I am at peace with it. As a result, my  budget is only half of what I could be making right now because I am starting from complete and total scratch with my art. Because of this decision, my budget became a series of negotiations with myself this week, wriggling the last $5 around to find somewhere I could justify would be the best use for it.

And the funny thing was that once I was done and able to put my pencil down, I realized that by scrounging and skimping on everything in my life, I am forcing myself to live a lifestyle where I get more exercise by limiting my bus route. I eat healthier as I simply can't afford to go out for dinner nor buy the package of chips or chocolate that's on sale as a "treat." I also fulfil my life through a variety of DIY methods whether it's mending my own clothes, reusing toilet paper roles or making my own bread. Funny that life's "luxury's" are the very thing that keep us from living a healthy lifestyle. We'll see if I still feel the same way in a few months.

In the meantime, I now fill my days trying to do as much as I can with nothing. The internet becomes my friend as I have since learned new recipes and how many families (yes, families with kids and stuff) live on less than $40/week with their groceries. I wonder if I could do it with $20. As the months get cooler here, the layers start to pile on indoors until I start to look ridiculous as I avoid using my electric heater, but now I figure maybe I should just turn on the oven and bake another loaf of bread instead.

In all my reflection - I've managed to summarize what I hope to do with a few rules to live by:

- Only eat when I am hungry . In the past couple of months I have been trying to do this and I have been amazed at how often I go to grab something to eat when I am not hungry and how many other reasons I have in my head to eat something. The reality is, food is for nurishment and if my body isn't actually hungry, I am just wasting my money.
- If I don't need it, don't buy it . Again, just started doing this and it has really helped to clarify things no matter where it is that I am at, particularly when it comes to those hard-to-resist sale items. It has also helped to write a list of whatever it is I actually intend to buy before I go out - if it's not on the list, I obviously don't actually need to buy it.
- If I can recycle it, I can probably reuse it . I have been finding more and more ways to reuse everything that I generally put in my recycling bag - most of it helping with storage around the house (tin cans, plastic containers), but I've also discovered how I can create things to brighten up the house out of what I'd normally be throwing in the bin.
- Dress for the weather and walk there . With a bus stop right outside my house it is SOOOOOOOO easy sometimes to get a ride to where I want to go. The reality is - my legs work pretty good at getting me where I need to go, so more often than not I need to just quit whining about it and save a few bucks by walking to where I need to go.
- If it isn't dirty don't wash it . Primarily this is referring to laundry. It's so easy to just dump the clothes I've worn for one day into the laundry basket, but the last time I did laundry I had a thought as to how many clothes in that load were ACTUALLY dirty. I'd say 99.9% of them were not. It's not like I need to wear clothes for months on end as I did walking Te Araroa Trail, but every load of laundry I can skip is money saved through electricity and water.

It should be an interesting couple of months, but I am hoping it will ease up a bit as a result of my art gaining momentum. Fingers are crossed.

The Truth Will Set You Free

I think one of the most difficult things to do in life is to be honest with ourselves. It's easy to be honest with others, about things, in life - but with ourselves? All too often we tell ourselves things that aren't true. Small things. Big things. Things that change the way we see ourselves or even live our life.

In the past couple weeks I have been trying to do better on being honest  with myself, but it has meant a certain amount of pain. It has meant that things I have took at face value for so many years are suddenly not what I thought they were. It has meant that I have had to take a deep breath and seriously look at myself and decide if I really want to be the type of person I am - not who I thought I was.

This past week I had an incredibly humbling moment. I say humbling, but at the time it felt more humiliating than anything else. For the past few years I have made choices in my life that have resulted in a lifestyle that would just let me get by financially. Whether it was the job I chose, the apartment I wanted to rent, the groceries I spent my money on, the school I went do, the countries I travelled to - whatever it was, financially I have just gotten by. And in a lot of ways, that's okay - it's pretty great really.

Lately I have had to take a hard look at myself and realize that though money is something I don't much care for, all that I want to do in my life costs money - money I don't have. A while ago I had to be honest with myself and admit that I have a problem with credit cards -- it's not that they don't agree with me, it's that they agree too much. Over the past years I have managed to whittle away at my debt until I am officially now at a point that I no longer have credit cards (yay me).

But I am yet to be debt free. There's still money I owe for student loans and money I owe family. That's not where I had to be honest with myself this week. Having no job has thrown me face-to-face with the reality that I have never actually kept to any budget in my life. EVER. It seems ridiculous to me that that is a fact in my life now that I have admitted it to myself, but it's the truth. And having no job just made it that much more apparent. There was no safety net of knowing when my next paycheck would come in - no smokescreen to hide how I handled the money I did have. And the reality was that I hadn't a clue where my money went.

The past couple of months I have been religiously writing down everything I spend in a budget journal - right to the last penny. I've been that annoying person at the corner store asking the clerk to print me a receipt when there's a line of 10 people behind me. I've been the person that has an envelope of receipts and actually schedules time each week to go over my budget and every month I plan the next budget. It's been excruciatingly painful at times to walk away from purchases I normally wouldn't have taken a second thought at buying. It's been hard to focus my grocery budget on the cash I have in my hand rather than the fabulous meal I have been drooling about making for the past week. It's been difficult, but I've started to get the hang of it. But that's not what I had to be honest about with myself this week.

This week the moment came when a cheque from Canada didn't get processed like I thought it would this week. And I was stuck. This money was exactly the amount I needed to get me through to when I do actually get paid from my new job and now it wasn't coming. It could take up to a month for them to process it as it is an international cheque. I didn't have a month. I had barely a week to come up with the money needed for rent. And I had nothing.

And so I had to ask my family for temporary help - and though I know it was temporary until the cheque cleared, it was one of the most humbling and humiliating experiences of my life. It wasn't the asking that was difficult, it was the response I got. It was the realization that my financial and lifestyle choices over the years had left an imprint on my family's mind of the type of person I was. The type of person with financial problems. They type of person that might not be able to pay back the money borrowed. The type of person that had no safety net. It was the realization that my financial support was not just going to come from my mom, but also from my Grandma who is retired and my sister who is three years younger than I am.

THAT's when I had to get honest with myself this week. Yes, the money borrowed from my family was a temporary loan to help me while I wait for this cheque to clear, but the bigger picture is the reality that I knew from the depths of my soul that I never wanted to be thought of as "that person" ever again.

It would be easy to lie to myself and gloss over the situation I am in to say that I have a job and it's just a matter of being paid. It would be easy to say that my budget situation is getting better and that I shouldn't worry. It would be so easy to just brush off my current loan and say it's "only temporary," but the reality of it all is that this is just the last thing that has happened in a string of support from people in my life to help me "get by." And I no longer want to be that person. I never really realized I was that person - but I don't want any part of it. I no loner want to be just "getting by." I want to feel secure with where I am financially. I want to actually be reaching my financial goals and living my life based off of my priorities - not what happens to be on sale in the next store window.

Beads, Beads and More Beads

I have officially (and FINALLY) begun to turn the corner in my life. It has felt as though it's been forever where I have been floating through the fog that is called my existence as I wait for it all to clear so I can see what is up ahead. Well it's finally happened.

I got the call this past week that I have been offered a position with IDEA Services. Only the biggest organisation within New Zealand that's aim is to support people with intellectual disabilities and advocate for their rights - I am super excited to have the opportunity to work with them. I will be an Outcomes Facilitator  where I will work with clients on developing their Life Plans and helping them to achieve their goals. All I can do is eagerly wait my start date so I can jump in with both feet and get started.

In the meantime, I have been spending the past couple of weeks developing my art profile again. It has been WAY too long since I have seriously delved into my creative mind, but the time has come. I have dusted off my collection of jewellery supplies and gotten back to the basics of what it was that hooked my addiction to the creative arts way back when. It still stuns me to realize how much supplies I actually have to create jewellery and other works of beaded things.

As my hands have gotten busy creating things, I figured it was time to put some energy into updating my online profile and finally set things up so I can sell things worldwide online. So for those of you who haven't heard yet, I have updated my artsite (www.shalanehopkins.com) to include a blog where I will be regularly sharing my journey of artistic creativity and simple ideas on things to create in and around your home. I have also created a Facebook Page (Shalane Hopkins - Artist) That will include mostly a collection of my creative journey through photographs and provide a platform for people to interact with me and share my works with their friends. Then to sell things online, I have opened my Etsy store called Paper Kite Creations where you are able to purchase anything I have for sale online.

The name Paper Kite Creations is founded by a type of butterfly called Paper Kite. These butterflies are most commonly found in Southeast Asia and remind me a lot of my journey of my art. Butterflies are symbolic of change, growth and a person's soul. As my work has been a journey to get to where I am today and I am constantly looking for new ways to develop myself further and be creative in more ways that one, this symbolism fit.

All these pages are then linked to one another and include links to my Pinterest page and Twitter profile. I've definitely gone on a social media frenzy in the last few weeks, but I figure it's the best way for me to build up my art profile and help me gain momentum in selling my work.

So what I guess I'm saying is spread the word. Check out some of the links here - follow me. Get involved. Give me feedback or let me know what you like. Help me to move forward so I can get back on the bandwagon of a creative lifestyle.

Unemployed and Making the Most of It

Being unemployed does a funny thing to one's mindset on life. By all accounts I have been given a brilliant opportunity to start my life over and have a fresh beginning to whatever I want to become. But it's hard to think like that when the "fresh start" wasn't a planned one.

Wellington City

It's been over a month now since I've been employed and, sure, that's not terribly long in the world of unemployment, but it feels like an eternity since I had the sense of security a regular paycheck brings in. I have been in the position of not working before, but it has always been logically reasoned that I had more important things to focus on - childhood. School. Travelling. In-between there has been employment.

It has taken me this entire last month to come to a state of acceptance of my position in life right now. I have finally realized that this time is, in fact, a gift. A scary gift that I am not sure I ever really wanted, but it's there just the same. It's the gift of time for self-development. It's an opportunity to not just start a new life in a new city or with a new job (eventually), but it's a brilliant chance for me to re-build who it is that I want to be.

And that's just it - so often throughout my life I have contemplated the question of what my life would be like if I could be whoever it is I want to be. I've often wondered what my life would look like if I seriously took the time to look deep inside myself and clear out the cobwebs - find healing for past hurts and slowly build myself up to be whom I've always dreamed of being.

It's easy to travel the world and rebuild yourself to who you want to be, but the life of a traveller is entirely different to that of one living "real" life. Travelling is limited on responsibilities. Relationships are built quickly and intensely and then fade away just as fast into the sunset. The memories are great, but the longevity of that lifestyle is difficult to maintain unless one dreams of being a nomad for all of eternity.

With normal life - things are a bit difficult. There are bills to pay, societal expectations of what one should look like, consumerism pressure to purchase this and eat that, family gatherings, people and pets to care for, a community to belong to. With normal life one grows roots and that is difficult to change.

But what if one could change their roots? What if one could rebuild themselves from the ground up? I have finally clued in that this is a definite possibility for me - the only possibility really - and though it scares me incredibly with the uncertainty of my future, I am slightly excited about what this could mean.

Wellington Harbour

The past few weeks since I have moved to Wellington, things haven't been entirely peachy. I've been struggling with depressive thoughts, struggling with motivation to just get out of bed in the morning. Many days have been spent curled up under the covers as I watch re-runs of my favourite shows and movies. These days would be divided between days where I'd go to the library and spent hours sending out resumes to countless number of job opportunities. One by one the rejection letters are returned to me. By post. By email - it didn't matter, the answer was "We regret to inform you that you have not been selected for the next stage of our interview process." I began to wonder what was wrong with me. Maybe I needed to update my resume or cover letter. My multiple editions of each didn't make a difference in response and all I could do was start to surrender to the unknown universal power guiding my life.

The one interview I did have went really well - but it came with it's own set of drawbacks as I quickly realized that a good interview meant nothing. The process of interviews takes over a week or two for any employer and then there is the separate process of Police Checks and background checks which takes another couple of weeks. Even though my interview went well, there is no way of knowing if I got the job until nearly a month has past.

As I began to lose hope in everything, I started to reflect internally. If I couldn't control the external forces allowing me to earn a paycheck, I figured I might as well start to focus on what I could control. Me. I started  sifting through my various debilitating emotions and researching conditions comparable to what was going on in my life. I learned that I have a problem with emotional eating. I learned that I have a problem with impulse buying and bad money-management skills. I learned that when I am stressed and anxious, I chew the insides of my cheeks. I learned that though I have tried to live my life in the best possible way, there have been a horde of issues bubbling up inside that I have only dealt with by eating ridiculous amounts of food, spending money I don't have and chewing my cheeks. It all sounds a bit depressing really.

So with a bit of counselling and self-study, I started to pick away at the deeper issues in my life and learn how to heal from it all. It's been liberating and I finally got to this last week where I have been able to look up from the hole I feel I am in and start to see the light. I've started to see this no-job thing as a bit of a blessing and I intend to make the most of it.

Home sweet home

My biggest question is trying to figure out exactly what it is that I want out of life. And instead of dreaming about who it is I want to be, I am trying to go out there and be it. Because I want to be the person that smiles at people as I pass them on the street. Because I want to be the person that takes the time to volunteer for a cause I believe in. Because I want to be the person who donates blood on a regular basis. I want to be the person that remembers birthdays, anniversaries and other celebrations. I want to be the person who reaches out to my friends and family to connect with them on a regular basis. I want to be the person who is constantly learning and taking classes. I want to be in the best shape and health I can be. I want to be a positive change in this world no matter what I do or where I go.

And so here I am. Yesterday I found some tuition-free courses online I intend to take. Today I donated blood at the local clinic. Tomorrow I have an interview for a volunteer position.

The job will come.

Shifting North

To say it's been a while is a bit ridiculous. I wish I could also say that I hardly believe it's been six months, but that would be a lie. I've been avoiding this entry for some time now. I suppose it was an internal need to go underground for a while and be non-existent in the online world. Or maybe it was simply work commitments that left me lacking in the creative writing department. Or maybe I just got tired of sitting at the computer - whatever my excuse, I'm back. For now at least.

The last six months have both flown by and crawled like a snail. Work consumed nearly my ever move as I did the final preparations for the HSFC Art & Film Festival that occurred on January 14-20, 2013. It was maddening to try and sort out so many details all at once, all the while feeling bombarded with people wanting to do things, say things and be a general annoying distraction to my wanting to just get things done. And yet I did get it done. The event happened and was a brilliant success that made me proud. I had managed to do what many people deemed impossible and only gave me confidence to realize what I am capable in doing when it comes to my career.

That being said, amidst my love of Hanmer Springs, my work at the Hanmer Springs Forest Camp and dreams of sticking around for the next few years (or at least until my Residency Application is approved) - it became clear in the last couple of months that it was time to move on. And quickly so.

For all the things that I can not write here, I can say that I find it completely fascinating how a people interact in moments of stress and situations that threaten a complete breakdown of lifestyle. Everyone's true colours come out and it is quickly apparent who is trustworthy, who should be feared and who should be cut out from all aspects of life interaction forever. Through my most recent challenges of life I have learned who my real friends are and that sometimes standing up to do the right thing doesn't always mean that everyone else follows suit. Sometimes doing the right thing means life as it is known is changed forever.

And so my life has changed. For the better - I hope. My relocation to Wellington has been a quick process considering it involved me packing up my belongings and two cats, finding a suitable flat to rent (included a weekend to scout out some dismal possibilities), and get myself (and cats) to the North Island with the vehicle I don't own.

Five days ago I caught the bus to Christchurch to pick up a relocation campervan under my name. Thanks to this brilliant idea from Campbell, a relocation campervan would allow me to skip the hiring fee of a vehicle, skip the ferry charge and allow me to transport all my belongings to the North Island worry free. Seemed good in theory, but little did I know that I was in for a surprise that day.

I arrived at the Christchurch airport and contacted the rental company to get the shuttle to their location so I could pick up the vehicle. They said 15 minutes. I said no problem. I stood at the bus stop with no shelter in the cold wind with my broken hair straightener in hand (I planned to exchange it later on). 15 minutes went by. 30 minutes went by. At 45 minutes I called the company and asked where the shuttle was. They told me that it was coming "soon." And so I waited. After an hour had gone past (my fingers were blue from the cold), I called them again. They said the driver was on route and would be there in a minute. Another 15 minutes went by and I gave up, went and hopped in a cab and drove there. The drive took me 2 minutes. I could have walked there in the amount of time it took to stand and hope for someone to pick me up.

I briskly walked into the reception area of the rental company only to be faced with about 10 people standing there looking rather bleary. No one was talking. No one was smiling. No one was doing much of anything, including the one staff member who was staring at their computer screen. I quietly sat down and tried to calm my fuming nerves as I waited for my turn.

Eventually a staff member asked for my name and I told him. Turned out he was the shuttle driver and he exclaimed that he had had difficulty trying to find me at the airport. I told him that an hour waiting was ridiculous and I took a cab instead. He didn't laugh. Neither did I. He then informed me that there was no relocation vehicle ready to be picked up at this point in time. I asked him what he meant and he stated that there would be one later in the afternoon but he could not confirm when it would arrive. Maybe in 1 hour. Maybe in 4 hours. I was angry. I asked him how this could be when I was informed by the rental company upon booking the vehicle that I could arrive any time after 9 a.m. to pick up the vehicle. It was now noon and I could be waiting another 4 hours for a vehicle? He confirmed this. I then went on to question how this could be when they expected me to relocate the vehicle up to Auckland (they don't do drop offs in Wellington) in three days when I could be wasting my first day simply waiting for the vehicle. He shrugged his shoulders in response.

I managed to contact another rental company who needed a vehicle relocated. They booked me in and I cancelled with the first guys and started walking. The second company was back at the airport where I had started. I had spent $24 on a cab ride that was wasted as no I was circling back. Eventually I got sorted with them and was on my way. It was 3:30 p.m. I had wanted to be packed and leaving Hanmer Springs by that time. I was only just driving back.

Packing the vehicle was a mad rush with friends and then I was off. My brain had hardly enough time to process everything - the fact I was actually leaving Hanmer Springs - I just drove. Me in the front seat with two cats in their carriers. They were not particularly happy with me and Indie continued to try and get out of his box.

Travelling with cats was never something I had considered when I adopted them as my own and yet I was thrown into the situation because of circumstances. I was told to always keep them in a carrier - one each (I could only afford one and so Indie had a cardboard box) and every 1-2 hours to let them out to do their business. This meant that not only did I have the two cat carriers strapped in the front seat next to me, but I also had a litterbox on the floor. Perfect. Each time I stopped to let them out, it took twice as long to get them back in. Being stuck in a box was not their idea of fun and they protested in any way they could.

I made it to a rest stop near Picton by 11 p.m. and tried to sort out the front seat to sleep. It seemed ironic that I had a fully-equipped campervan to use at my disposal and yet I couldn't because it was jammed packed with all my stuff. And so sleeping in the front seat it was. With two cats roaming free.

Sleep was lost on me and I am not sure I really got much. By 4:30 a.m. I was up again to quickly change, brush teeth, pee in the bush and try to put the cats back in their carriers. Then we were off to the ferry. A few hours later I was driving off the ferry and on route to my new flat. And then I was there.

Unpacking the vehicle proved to be slightly more difficult than it was to pack it. Primarily because I was on my own, but also because my flat is only a short walk up a steep hill to get there. That and I couldn't find Kaeto. He had hidden somewhere in the vehicle while we were on the vehicle and I didn't find him in time to put him back in his carrier. This meant that each time I opened the door to grab the next box while unloading, I feared a black cat would come flying out as part of his great escape. But it never happened. As the vehicle slowly got emptied, I never once saw Kaeto. I continued to call his name and listen for a response and there was nothing. I started to think that maybe he had escaped when I had gotten back into the vehicle on the ferry as the ferry was the last time I had seen/heard him. Maybe I had lost him and he was still wondering that ferry - or worse - maybe someone had run him over when all the vehicles drove off it. My mind was rolling through all the possibilities.

It was when I was getting down to the last boxes that I spotted movement in the front seat. Kaeto had decided to appear from his hiding place - squished under the driver's seat. How he fit there, I have no idea. But I was just glad to see him again. He wasn't so happy to see me. The second our eyes locked he scooted his way back into his dark hole where I couldn't reach him.

It took till the very end where I managed to shift the front seat forward and drag Kaeto from his hiding spot. Once inside the flat both him and Indie took their time scouting out every possible nook and cranny. It didn't take very long as my flat is considerably smaller than the 2 bedroom house I lived in in Hanmer Springs, but I was glad to have a home. A home for all of us.

And so here I am - capital city of New Zealand and it's brilliant.