So much for the space in-between

I was meant to be moving house, as in my web domain. I thought they were kicking me out of blogger.com. Apparently not. Good thing really; I have been as remiss in my blog maintenance as I have in much of the rest of my life. Other things I should have done include (but are not restricted to) filing a tax return, completing my residency application, putting the broken fridge somewhere else....and so it goes.

I have been putting my energy into Langford Ink and Fish Forever (campaigning for marine sanctuaries in the Bay of Islands) and that has left very little for anything else, except the odd blow out party that simultaneously rejuvenates and depresses. In the past couple of months I have existed in a state of mild perplexity interpersed with flurries of activity followed with moments of sheer exhaustion. I think the word "moderation" should apply somewhere. The expression "all or nothing" resounds the blog halls of freelancers/startups/sole operators. "All" is seductive, exciting, productive. "Nothing" is confused, frustrating and smarts with a sense of failure. We are the bipolar of the business world.

There must be some interstitial space; somewhere more moderate to exist. If anyone cares to tell me how to find this in-between space, I'd be grateful.

The Last Post

Blogspot have told me to move. They won't host my blog anymore. I'm being evicted.

Whoop whoop!

I'm forced to buy a new domain. I am maneuvered into a position where I have to start all over again. It's chance for a revamp. This time I might do it a bit better, especially now that I know at least one thing about the concept of blogging (stage whisper: you're meant to have a Purpose).

Maybe this time I'll also find an audience. I might even capture them and then I'll have lots of friends who'll look at my photos and read my words and think nice thoughts about me.

Yeah right, said Tui.

I'm not an especially refined blogger. But I don't care too much about that at the moment because all I can think about right now is that I have to buy a domain which means (drum roll) that I can have a new name. Hurrah for small pleasures.

Fun Naming Project got me thinking about what my blog is about. This then made me wonder whether it has one of those purpose thingies. Of course it has a purpose, even if that purpose is selfish and exclusive i.e. safe place (no audience, remember) for me to air my purpose-lacking ideas.

Does it have any wider relevance? Will it bring any of YOU value? (Yes you out there! Anyone? Hullooo...? Hmm, thought not).

I've decided that my blog does have a purpose. Its raison d'etre is to find a small spot of beauty in the everyday, whether in a word, an image, an idea, a stunning equation or...or...well, whatever really, even a splodge of chewing gum on a drain cover that looks like Marge Simpson if that's what rocks my boat that day.

The purpose for me is to make it my daily mission to be receptive to the unexpected, the un-thought-of and to find freshness in the mundane. I want to keep my brain wired with all the synapses as synaptic as they were when I was ten. I don't want tired, grumpy neural pathways, trodden down by the daily footfall, always the same way, same angle, same time.

My friend Miriam recently told me you should try and do daily tasks a little bit differently too - at least one a day; say, brush your teeth with your other hand, or shower in the dark. Apparently it activates different neurones, surprising your brain into exercise mode. The new elixir of youth! No more baby placentas for me.

I found a name. I've booked www.thespaceinbetween.com as I think this is the kind of place where you might find those treats that make our mortal world more bearable. It reminds me of the letter I wrote to the tooth fairies when I was little asking where I could find them. They answered that I would find them at the end of the rainbow. I searched for years. In a way, I'm still searching.

Tom's snapper

An English guy called Tom is staying at the Pickled Parrot. He's been a bit depressed. He went fishing off the wharf at Paihia to cheer himself up on a rainy Saturday morning. To everyone's disbelief he caught a beauty snapper. He was then a bit sad because he really needed a good photo and his cousin had trodden on his camera so the view finder didn't work. How could I say no?

Sunday morning sailing

Learn to Sail March 2010

There's a Dr Seuss tree in my garden

The upshot of having a fancy camera is that I want to go out at night and take sultry pictures of the moon. I've since discovered I need to spend more money to get a tripod (vintage alto saxophone or camera tripod? hmm, I think I can live with shakey night shots or restrict photography exploits to daytime). Anyway, on my way home from a night time mission to see how the moon looked on the waves, I encountered this Dr Seuss tree in my garden. Actually, Pete - my humble assistant - spotted it; he is a primary school relief teacher afterall, so it's his job to know what Dr Seuss trees look like. Oh and the vintage alto sax? That's a story for another day...

It's the nature of things.

She's not what you thought
as you sought her to be

not the readable script
but a tapestry
of symbols
and colour
a muddle of signs
tea leaves or dreamscapes
wine stains and anger
of tears
and giggles
and things in between
that can't be touched or written or sighed
just caught in the atoms

the chaos of life.

Can't complain...

Summer in Northland

Willingness and courage

I'm stopping. I'm not doing anything anymore, ever again. Well, for the next hour perhaps. I am exhausted. EX-hausted. Molly is too, but I'm not sure what her excuse is...

My present circumstances in no particular order:

Molly: she's been a temporary feature of our house and garden for a week or so now because her mum and dad, Sam and Marg, have had a real life human baby. Molly was their baby before and so is a little confused by this apparent rejection (they still love you Molly, they do, but they're a little busy right now), but once she found her place under this fern in a pile of dust, she decided that life on a patch of concrete with Pete and Catherine might be bearable after all. She doesn't really understand that her baby status is in jeopardy. We're breaking it to her gently before her return to Opua. Her chief skills are dragging creeper vines through the house, lying in oil patches, swimming in the sea and shouting.


Camera: I just bought a new camera. Most excited
I've felt since standing on top of Ruapehu on a bluebird day with fresh slopes peeling away below me. It's a Canon Powershot S5 IS with digital SLR 'features' - a step up from my 3yr old point and shoot fuji finepix to a slightly pointier and shootier version for the advanced beginner (is that the same as amateur?). Actually, my Wellington photos (eyes down) were taken with this very model borrowed from my partner's sister visiting from Jakarta. She really IS a photographer and if it's good enough for her 2nd camera, it's good enough for me. N.B. camera in transit, these photos courtesy of the old finepix.

Baby: aforementioned baby is really very cool. He shall remain nameless for the time being but he has a funky hairstyle and wriggles a lot. No, he's not mine (see above).

Tomatoes: How can they drink so much?

Houseboat: We sold it!

Tin Shack: Artfully named by my father, my new house is indeed clad with wriggly tin. This isn't uncommon in New Zealand. Quite the norm in fact. And it looks like a real house on the inside. Most visitors have shown outright surprise that we might live in such a normal place. That's Pete's reputation, not mine, surely. Apart from my office being the bedroom and vice versa. And the creeper that grows in the cupboard. And the cockroaches. And spiders. Apart from all that, it's really rather nice.

Langford Ink: is just dandy. Not profitable, but dandy nonetheless. Consequence of lack of profitability means that Langford Ink is also providing a physio receptionist service at special rates in order to allow grocery purchase. Langford Ink has a charming array of clients though, and is excited about being in its fifth month of operation and is very much enjoying the support of some awesome local businesses.

Christmas in Wellington: ...was busy. Pete has a large family. Fortunately they're also a warm and generous family so not a squeak of complaint from me other than a shiver at the temperature plummet.

Life: I am losing myself in new jobs, technology, systems, clients and need for money; kids sailing and volunteer community work; sunshine, friends, dogs. I haven't written anything creative for months, since we moved to the tin shack. That makes me feel neglectful. I am tired but happy. When there's a spare moment I sail, surf, swim. I share wine and dancw with my friends, I walk the beach. I can't imagine being anywhere other than precisely where I am doing exactly what I am doing; whether that's due to the absolute rightness of this space or simply lack of energy to do anything else, I'm unsure. Right now I'm going to put down my computer, pick up The Listener, pretend to read for five minutes and then sleep until the sun dips behind the bush-covered hills.