Monday, 12 December 2011

This week I vow to...

1. Buy a present for my Secret Santa person (my family does this every year, there's too many of us for individual presents!).
2. Clean out my grossly cluttered room.
3. Do some form of exercise.
4. Clear the eczema from my hands.
5. Not act like an ass when I meet Lani Wendt Young.
6. Do a face mask.
7. Take Peanut out as least once a day (even if just to the dairy)

Seven's quite a funny number isn't it? Oh well, better an awkward number than 3 more things that I have absolutely no intention of doing!

Well, chop chop Donna!

Have a good week folks :)

Oh to be a teen...

Sometimes I like to pretend that I'm still a teenager.... (For all those judging/mocking me, you try having your first baby at 21 aka the height of anyone's fun time life phase! Oh you did? And you've matured quite nicely since then? Oh...) This songs help me do that:

Sunday, 27 November 2011

Shake it out!

"It's hard to dance with the devil on your back, so shake him off."

I have a theory that we all walk around with a bit of a screen, a filter around us. Censoring the world and protecting ourselves. Maintaining  a certain level of apathy, because if we truly felt everything, it would destroy us. 

And I think we have our most amazing revelations in the inbetweens of our lives. In the breaks between our train of thoughts. In the pause before the next task. 

So today, I was pausing. Sitting outside a friend's house waiting for her to rejoin me outside to enjoy the sun and continue the conversation.
And the song that was playing (in wonderful phone speaker quality no less) finished. And Florence Welch's beautifully melancholic voice began to sing. And in my moment of pause-y openness, I began to drink in her every word. 

I was left dumbfounded. This lady had surely either read my mind somehow from thousands of miles away in England or had managed to live my life since leaving school, then proceeded to write a song about it. This very song. 
Of course millisecond later, I acknowledged how silly the thought really was and I knew. I knew that this problem/issue/life stage/rut of mine. It was universal. Millions if not all people have dragged the proverbial horse around. Haven't we all had the devil on our backs? Been left empty by a mess that was so final? We've all run into suffer and run into hope. This woman described so many things "me" yet "not just me". And left me so tangibly optimistic.  

"I am done with my graceless heart. So tonight I'm going to cut it out and restart...
... It's always darkest before the dawn"
- Florence Welch

*Note: I know the word "tangibly" probably doesn't exist. I just felt like I needed it to be an adverb rather than a noun. Rules are meant to be broken after all! ;)

Friday, 25 November 2011

I am the Summertime

Before I moved to New Zealand, I couldn't ever understand, even imagine, the magic of an impending summer. I know, I know it's already summer. But officially it isn't. And I set a lot of store by all things "official".

So to the first of December I look. And until then, the ball of excitement in my belly continues to grow (or was that my large dinner?)...

Every year I dream that summer will be more wonderful then it probably ever turns out. But I don't care. Come next spring, the very same excitement and anticipation builds... And I dream of long sticky, humid days (a horrid thought for many, a fantasy for me) where the possibilities are endless.

Music festivals, jandals, minimal makeup, litres and litres of water, dancing for no particular reason (alright you got me there, I do this all year round however in summer it feels more natural/justified), Christmas, New Years... Ah the joys! The joys!

Let's hope December arrives before I spontaneously combust!

Kick off your shoes, the blues, the news, anything but your mind. 

Monday, 21 November 2011

Returning home

This song always conjures within me joy and nostalgia simultaneously. The Greek and Latin origin of the word nostalgia literally means to return home. Cool huh? That something could have an effect in you that memory alone can't. It's a feeling of returning home. 

[Oi Donna, go to sleep, you've stopped making sense! ... Good idea.] 

Sunday, 20 November 2011


"Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results"

 - Albert Einstein

If this is truly so, then I am absolutely certifiably insane. 

Do you find that sometimes, we as girls have a horrible thing about not being able to let things go? And I don't just mean tiny annoyances like people constantly forgetting to put the milk back into the fridge. I'm talking about those big things that we pursue although we know that it's it's not quite right. At least for the time being. Or anymore. 

Because we feel like everything else is already in place and we just need the one thing to just work out. And life without that thing is almost unfathomable. Unbearable. 

And so when you know without a doubt in your heart that that thing isn't right, we push that feeling down. Because it's the truth. And the conviction it'll give you to move on from that thing will only lead to that scary unfathomable, unbearable place. 

And then there's that stupid girl thing where we just have to be right. We have to try and prove that there was a reason we were doing all that stuff in the first place. A reason for the investment over months, years. We try and rationalise, construct reason around the situation. Give it the one last chance it didn't deserve. 

Why are we so insane? Why am I so insane?

Alanis, you told me that you live, you learn. I hope I'm learning

Friday, 11 November 2011

This is how much we love The Voice

Laws - little sister
Jabs - little brother

While watching X-Factor on a lazy Thursday night...

Jabs: "This guy reminds me of that gay dude from The Voice"

Me: "Oh sorry, I only remember the bald chicks. Who won anyway?"

Jabs: "That guy who sounds like a black Adam Lambert"

Laws: "Oh the one with the daughter?" 

So knowledgeable we are all things, The Voice. Yup. 

The black Adam Lambert. His last name is pronounced cologne though it looks like Colon by the way. You're welcome. 

Thursday, 3 November 2011

Things that are probably true...

... but are still hard to convince yourself are true:

1. Everything that's happened in your life has made you the person that you are. Wanting to go back in time is pointless. You can change from today.
2. Mistakes are a good thing.
3. Rock bottom makes for a good foundation.

... Sensing a pattern here? Indeed I'm stuck in one of those delightful things... What are they called? Oh yes, a rut. Seems 2011 has been one, big, fat rut. Bet you're glad to have stumbled across this blog today huh?

OK enough being an emo.

Things to cure stuck-in-a-rut-ness (if only for a while):

1. Keep busy.
2. Make lists/plans.
3. Eat better and get fresh air.
4. Create clean and organised surroundings.
5. Play with your kid.
6. Wear lipstick.

Any other suggestions?

Friday, 21 October 2011

Where I've been. If you give a toss ;)

The neglect started early October when Peanut and I went to spend an extended White Sunday weekend with my sister, brother-in-law and adorable little niece. I didn't want to waste the entire weekend being antisocial on the computer, online. So I didn't and I ate instead. And ate and ate. Then ate some more. Can I just say? My sister and bro-in-law are some hardcore food appreciators and any house guests they have will agree with me. Epic weekend.

Lali and Nutty in their white wear

Upon arriving back into Auckland, Peanut came down with the severe constipation... again. I don't know if it's the kid's digestive system or if I've just been feeding her all the wrong foods but I've never seen another kid struggle so much with constipation. We like our baby laxative in this house. Another week without Blogger.

Then this past week, my body decides that it's had it and completely checked out. I came down with a pretty bad fever and spent the week bedridden. Today is literally the first day I've felt human since last Saturday! Couldn't even sit upright to go online. Didn't even want to go online. Just wanted to curl up and sleep until I didn't feel like death warmed up any more.

So here am in my wee little blog home. Dusting off the cobwebs and reopening for business. It's good to be back :)

ps. Last Saturday I went to a protest march against the IRB's treatment of Tier 2 teams during the RWC, held outside the building where Eliota Fuimaono-Sapolu's hearing was being held. It was organised by some pretty proactive Samoans and boy what a day it was. There was A LOT of singing, dancing and of course chanting. It was brilliant. You would've never known that you were on Shortland St in the Auckland CBD. What made me most proud was the number of old Samoan people there. Priceless stuff. 

Samoa Tula'i protest march

Peanut in her true colours

Thursday, 6 October 2011

I don't believe in drama

Well... I don't. No point in it I say! Say what you want to say, say what you need to say. Then on your way you go.

This reminds of that scene in He's Just Not That Into You when Justin Long tells Ginnifer Goodwin how girls love drama... even resorting to doing silly things like leaving bills to paid at the last minute in order to insert some drama in their lives. This, I thought at the time, is so not me.

I like straight up-ness and yeah I'll say it.. ease, comfort. Ha! They say I'm a girly girl, but this I did not get.

Nope, I don't like drama at all.

Tuesday, 27 September 2011

(My attempt at) Makeup 101

Sooo a fellow blogger, I won't mention who (hey Joan! Hey! LOL), and I thought it might be fun to do a makeup post... You know, just about handy tips and the basics really. Cos face it, that's just about all I know anyway! Haha!

But firstly, let me just say. I love this stuff. Not because I detest the way I look, in fact I'm quite often chuffed with what mum,dad and God gave me, when I'm not abusing it with bad sleeping habits and a poor diet that is. But because to me it's fun as heck (get a hobby right?) and the easiest way to inject a bit self-love each day.

Secondly, nothing to me beats natural beauty. Makeup should be a slave to your God given assets. Not the other way around. Got beautiful eyes? Play them up! Blessed with clear skin? For goodness sakes, put down the full coverage foundation. Work with what ya got sista!

For today I thought that I'd just stick to foundations and then if anyone's still interested, I can branch out to other exciting and fun things like bronzer! And blush! And lipstick! Anyone else's heart rate accelerated? No? Just me? OK.

Now for those tips you've been looking for, causing you to quickly skim over the top bit:
(Note: it wasn't very interesting anyway).


- Not a must for all women. In fact if you've got quite clear skin (commonly free of pimples and the like) I would say skip the foundation for everyday use and just go for a tinted moisturiser! Much better for your skin and will add a healthy glow to what might not otherwise be glowy skin. Cos I mean, nothing says "I'm a healthy hottie" then glowy skin. Nuthin'.

- Your foundation shade should match your neck and chest. My face is almost always darker than my neck and  chest (probably due to my love of scarves and hate of low-cut tops/dresses) and my foundation usually does a good job of (almost) colour matching my whole body back up. Handy!

- The texture of your foundation is usually dependent of your skin's needs. Typically, if you have dry skin, keep a look out for foundations with a "dewy" finish, and if your skin is on the oilier side, perhaps choose one with a matte finish to balance it out. I only found this out  this year would ya believe?!  Crucial, crucial stuff.

- Mineral foundation. Love the stuff. Especially good for you oily skin types. Us dry skin girls can love mineral foundation too, we just need to make sure we moisturise like hell beforehand. And the best part? It's good for your skin! Not so cloggy and breaky outy like the liquid and cream (cake) types and it also tends to have the most natural finish. However, I find that it doesn't stay on as long as liquid or cream would so if you have a long day, you'll probably be looking at reapplications through out the day. Although a good primer will help. Though that might be a story for another day, yes?

So tell me...
Did any of this make sense?
Wanna see a post on other types of makeup?
Which foundations do you guys prefer/wear?
Were you yawning over how basic all this advice was while quietly sitting there in all your vast makeup related knowledge? ;)

How to love

Been in a rut lately.

Then yesterday my sister asked me to help her with something quite wonderful that she was doing for someone else. It was just what I needed to get over myself.

Thanks Sina, world and God. Time to give out more love and stop the pity parties.

Song of the week:

Wednesday, 21 September 2011


I used to love a good, juicy controversial issue. The points raised on both sides prompting you to think and reassess what you know about the issue. The debate.

Nowadays a just hate it. It just seems to bring out the ugliest in people. And what with social media, the most ill-informed ignoramuses have a platform and a means to connect with other such douchebags.

Its makes sigh with exasperation. I can't deal with it. I either need to switch off the computer or scurry off to a safe corner of the internet like my favourite beauty website or blogger (of course) and this isn't good! I'm not challenging myself to look at the issue at hand in a subjective (well, as subjective as I can get) way, I'm not researching matters that wouldn't have occurred to me otherwise. In short, I'm stunting myself.

So I guess need to come up with a way to tune out the losers in order to hear the intelligent discussion. Tips from you guys would be helpful :)

Anyone feel me on this? Or am I the one being intolerant...?

Tuesday, 20 September 2011

Reality TV

There's a docu-series that's a tad outdated now which usually reruns on the Living Channel or what was known as the Documentary Channel (I forget what it's called now) and it's called Child of our Time. And well, I absolutely adore this show/doco/series.
The show basically follows the lives of 25 children born in the year 2000 and their families while they live out the trials and tribulations of a modern 21st Century society. 

And I mean, it's not particularly grand or bloody amazing... at all really. I like it simply because it features real people with real lives. Plain and simple.

Let me explain the importance of this.

Everyday we're bombarded with images of perfection. Unobtainable perfection. Sitcoms, commercials, soap opras, "reality" tv... And we all admittedly give in a little sometimes. From time to time we'd acknowledge how image obsessed our Western world is and in our heads we consciously know that it's all impractical and just not in tune with reality.... but let's get real. Our subconscious has already subscribed (and is currently receiving the weekly emails) to the unexplainable need to either be or seem perfect. (Or is it just me...?)

So when I turned the telly on yesterday to find that a random episode of Child of our Time was on, I settled into a comfortable position in the couch and found that I was once again refreshed and relieved to see a real household (balding daddy, mummy jeans and all) with real household problems, and laughing at myself for being so surprised that people out there other than myself had problems.
But I guess that's what the point of advertising is right? To lose perspective. To become single minded about consuming. Because if we really did stop to gain perspective on things, we'd be like, eff it there are worse things in life. I can deal with this. Consuming something won't and never has helped anyway.

So where was I? Yes that's right. I love Child of our Time because it's me on TV. It's most of the people I know. Because God knows none of us are those Maybelline ads.

Friday, 16 September 2011

Why I can never be a sportwoman

I would be a horrible sportperson. Just horrible. Reason being is that I simply CAN NOT bear to see people lose in a game (and perhaps in life as well... Damned softy) and definitely could not be the cause of that loss.

When I watch a sports game, I often decide early on, if not before, who it is that I'm backing. However I find that as the game goes on I slowly and subconsciously find myself pledging allegiance to whoever the underdog is. And it happens every time! Every time I tell you.

So why don't you purposefully go for the underdog before the game starts, you ask? Well because I'm a complete sporting nincompoop and know absolutely nothing about sport. (Hah! Bet you didn't see that coming! "But she's brown..." ... Yeah it's pretty disgraceful...).

So there it is, the reason I can never be a sportswoman.

Oh yeah, and because I have no sporting talent. (Thought I was forgetting something).

Monday, 12 September 2011

Makeup is my boyfriend

Once upon a time, I was a clothes girl. I was that sister whose wardrobe got raided whenever any of the siblings (excluding my brother of course) had party/date/night out; I simply could not go to the mall without making some kind of unnecessary clothing purchase and was constantly being asked by my mum "Is that new???", to which I'd answer "Uh... No! It's old, just haven't worn it in eons!" so I that I wouldn't get into trouble for wasting what little money I earned from my crusty retail job.

But oh how things have changed. I've since evolved into a *cringes*... ok I'll say it... sensible shopper. (Phew!). I'm one of those people that has one of every "type" of clothing, if any. Eg. one flowery spring dress, one dark multi-purpose cardi, one pair of everyday sensible shoes etc etc. And I just reuse and recycle my few pieces over and over. So I pretty much have the polar opposite approach to clothes than I had before.

Now you may be thinking, "Good on you for growing up and out of that obsessive stage"... And boy do I wish I deserved that. But alas I do not. They say that the only way to get over an addiction is to substitute it with another. And substitute, I did. 

I wish I could say that it was with running or yoga... but no. The new drain on my finances: make up. Now I hadn't realized how much I'd grown to enjoy trying, buying and applying makeup til my sister Laura pointed it out bluntly the other day. 

"You're a makeup fanatic"
"Well it may seem that way to you, but I mean, compared to the average girl, probably not..."
"Yeah nah... you're fanatic"

She's as blunt as our useless kitchen knives, that one. And while I still don't fully concede to being a so-called fanatic, I will admit that it's become the new "clothes".

And after reading Kuaback's hilarious post on makeup last night, I got to thinking about how my interest had evolved. I think it started at first with being pregnant for the first time and becoming the heaviest I've ever been (and I'm talking post-birth people!). Shopping became terrifying. And the sad thing is, I'm not even exaggerating here. I very regularly had to do the ol' duck-into-the-toilets-for-a-quick-cry thing after sad attempts to try on clothes that I would've bought without thinking a year or so before. Not pretty. And I hate being the pathetic girl. So makeup became my fun thing. My self expression thing, as I'd never been particularly creative with things like art, writing or music. Makeup is the new clothes to me and for now, it's working. Of course I want and need to get back to a healthier (and let's face it, more attractive) size. But for now, I'm loving that although I may resemble Jabba the Hut, I still have something girly left. I still have something to be excited about when I go to the mall. 

Haha you could say that I've replaced a crutch for another. But I don't care. Females are the 'peacock-ing' gender of the human race (my justification). And sometimes a girl just needs a little slap on her mug :)

Sunday, 11 September 2011

... but it's just a game?

So lately my life and the lives of probably almost every person living in New Zealand right now has been taken over by a phenomenon called the Rugby World Cup. Oh the hype the hype! The flags on cars! The sudden influx of patriotic practices... We've almost become Americans!

But I hope I'm not coming off as having a negative reaction towards the RWC because to be honest, I'm loving it! The atmosphere in the city is electric! I love hearing a thousand different languages walking up Queen Street and especially the mingling of Kiwis themselves from all walks of life. It's about time us South siders got to meet someone from Orakei or Takapuna and realise that no matter how different we may seem to one another, we're all Kiwis to the outside world. No, no I'm loving this madness that is the RWC.

My only "thing" about all this, is this:

I hope people remember that at the end of the day that it's not really the rugby that matters the most. The score at the end of each game. The number of tries scored, then converted. But that it's us that matter. The people that are mixing and mingling and sharing (and showing off) our cultures to another. It's the "world in union" thing. It's the reinforcement of positive nationalism for a change. It's the immense amount of fun that can be had when we deviate from our work, play and sleep routine for a change. It's the admiration of other cultures and peoples before realising that, eff it, we're all the bloody same at the end of the day!

So to wrap this mess of a post I'd like to conclude (she says in her official tone) that rugby is in fact the vehicle that drives the most important thing about RWC: us. For once it's cool to just be a 'participant'! ;)

Wednesday, 7 September 2011


Love the shut-up-and-live-life-already thing to this song... Makes me feel a tad braver :)

Sadness, Happiness. Not necessarily mutually exclusive.

I know, I know. What a horrible name for a blog. Might have to do with my misplacing my Catchiness Hat last night. Will endure to find it today so as to never bombard you so early on with  the world's longest blog title!

So I was just flipping through the archives of a favourite blog today, and found one that got me thinking about sadness, happiness and whether they really were the polar opposites everyone thinks they are or if they are rather two things that can exist in harmony.

Sound like a whole lot of bullocks? Hear me out.

This year has been a trying one. To say the least. And yet even though I've experienced the deepest sadness I've ever felt in all my short 23 years, I've also experienced pure joy. And a few times, simultaneously. There's a good chance I could just be going cuckoo, but something tells me that not only does one have to experience real gut-wrenching pain in order to really experience pure unadulterated joy but also that at times, that joy will only really come to you while you're in that pit.

The kind that makes you feel like  you could quite possibly be glowing. Literally. Making you check yourself out quickly in the Glassons window to see if you really do have golden lights streaming out of your ears and nostrils while pretending to be looking at the clothes on the mannequins as cover up.

I'm grateful for this year and this time. And most of all, for the joy that might not have come otherwise. As for the sadness? It's like Meg says: it always, always passes.

Sunday, 4 September 2011

Project Naked Face

... catchy name for a project right? Thanks. I thought it up myself.

So yes, out of control would be an understatement for my skin right now. I think I'm developing 3 new zits a day. So my face is a site of brown pigmentation spots (deceased pimples), scabby spots (dying pimples - RIP BITCHES!) and massive red, sore looking freshmen.

And I've already pledged to not stress over them. But I also feel this doesn't mean I can pretend they're not there. Henceforth, what I've decided to do is just lay off the slap for now. I'll aim for a week first. Don't want to unrealistic after all.
And I know this won't really clear my face up entirely, but it's occurred to me that if I don't take care, I may end up with scarring... And that's not a good thought.

... Good thing I'm succeeding in "not" stressing over it right? :S

Thursday, 1 September 2011

I Can't Wait to Travel...

It's weird but all of a sudden I've been infected with the travel bug. I've never been one to crave international travel. I mean, like all people I talk in a non-committal way about how I'd love to one day travel around the world and learn about other cultures etc etc. But never have I wanted it as much I do now.

Maybe it's because all my peers are graduating uni and going on their big OE's, making sure to upload albums named "Paris!" on Facebook. Maybe it's because I have a tendency to follow the blogs of those more adventurous and brave than me and I've been influenced.

Whatever it is, I've got wander lust. Looks like I'm gonna need to work very hard in the next few years because pretty soon... You and me Peanut. We're gonna MOVE.

Sunday, 21 August 2011

The first step...

They say that the first step is to admit that you have a problem... And I think I'm ready to take that step.

I'm ready to admit that *deep breath* maybe the cause of my once clear as crystal skin to break out is not due to my make up, make up brushes, the stuff I wash my makeup brushes with, my pillowcase fabric, the frequency with which I wash my pillowcases, my washing powder, any of my skincare, hormones or how much water I drink... No. I'm ready to admit the true reason. Stress.

See, all my life I had the skin of a freshly born mole rat (as my fave beauty blogger likes to put it) and then last year December, outta nowhere -- BAM! Breakout out city. On my face. Not fun. And for so long I tried every which way to solve my new arisen skin problems. In fact, I've become quite virtuous in the process (not a week goes when I don't change my sheets now or wash my makeup brushes... wait? You did these things regardless? ... Oh...). But alas, my spotties have not budged. I've even tried the well (over) advertised Proactiv... And well I haven't been using it long so jury's still out on it's affectiveness. But for now, my pimples linger.

The thing about accepting that maybe, just maybe it's been stress that's been wrecking havoc on your face is  that it means that you have to really reassess what you're doing and why you do the things you do. Not as easy as changing your cleanser. Or washing your face every night. It means real, annoying, maybe painful change. Darn.

Alright here goes...

Thursday, 18 August 2011

I am brave now...

Yeah yeah I know, I stole the name of that Ryan Reynolds movie. I couldn't help it. I'm unoriginal... and lazy... and I mean, the title just describes me so well... indecisive, tad confusing, hopefully intriguing...


Wow... this is something I never thought I'd do... Well I suspected that I might... Then shrugged I off.

I mean, me? Blog? What for? What ever happens to me? ... The truth is not much really... However, my head always feels like New York traffic at rush hour. So perhaps I share those...

And if you don't like that n*gga than PISS OFF! -- oh crap! Sorry! That was the defensive side of me on high alert as I am not usually the type to share my thought processes/feelings to anyone other than my sisters/besties. Sorry. I'll definitely be working on controlling it in the first little while of blogging. She's a feisty beast.

But OK *wrap up* I just wanted to get this outta the way. Bite the bullet. Take the first step. And now it's done. Almost.

... just... need... to... press "Publish Post"...