It's not a cry you can hear at night, it's not somebody who's seen the light...

Cantabrians, Treat Me (http://www.treatme.co.nz/Christchurch) has a deal for a $79 dentist check up and clean. I totally took that, since as a poor student I can't usually afford the dentist. Now to book in before heading to the US. Which is difficult since much of my time before I head off, we're going South to Fiordland. Though if I don't use the booking before I head off, I have until the 2nd of Feb. I'd like to do it before though. YAY dentist!

Guy Fawkes was awesome. I hate fireworks and since I live two houses away from Firework Park, I decided to partake in some Bravery Vodka in the form of vodka and oranges. Better than anything else where you can taste the alcohol, bleh. Apparently I spent a great deal of time hugging people and clinging to Alison's leg. And Woot says I nommed his ankle. I also professed my love for Simon about 20 times and called him pretty, according to him. Spamming Tumblr askboxes is so classy. Hey, at least I'm an affectionate drinker. And now that Guy Fawkes is over, let's just NOT have more Bravery Vodka. Until next year.

I have to say, it did help. Instead of screaming and hiding and crying, I was lying on the grass and staring up as the fireworks went off above me. It was pretty.

Now if only all my friends were well again, that would make me happy! In the meantime, I will settle for walking to the store once it's open, and purchasing and eating a chicken. Yep.

EDIT: DENTIST BOOKED for Wednesday at 9:30am. Woot! Now to the store for chickens!

EDIT 2: AUUUUGGHHHHHHH I opened the door to let Helios Tiberius Fassbender in and a white-tailed spider FELL ON ME! AAUUUGGGHHHH HEART-ATTACK SPIDER! So I killed it in the midst of my freaking out and then felt bad I didn't just trap it under something and relocate it. Sorry, spider. But pls no falling on me.

WHY CAN'T I THINK OF A SOCIAL POLICY ISSUE TO WRITE AN ESSAY ABOUT?!

Oh right, because social policy is about as interesting as watching paint dry.

I could write about mental health or homelessness again, but I don't know if that is too broad and I would need to narrow it down. I could do biculturalism as well, but I am quite tired of writing essays on Puao-te-ata-tu even if I think it's quite an impressive piece of social policy work.

Oh my god, even this entry is boring. Shit on a stick.

Have an article. Margaret Thatcher refuses to meet with Sarah Palin. You know, Thatcher, I am not a fan of you. That's...putting it lightly. But lol.

I don't know.

I posted a thingy on Tumblr last night which was metaphorical of how I'm feeling inside, even though I was talking about something else. It's here in case you feel like reading it. Behold how goddamn deep I am, you guys, omg.

I just feel really fragile. I managed to actually write something I didn't hate. In fact, I really love it. And that made me want to watch Michael Collins so I could Irish!historygasm. Yeah. If you're feeling fragile, watching Michael Collins WILL make you sob for two hours straight. Just, you know, FYI. But GOD that movie. I love it. It is so well done. And it amuses me to see Jonathan Rhys Meyers in one of his first film roles. Where he gets to use his actual accent!

I'm just worn out. And people keep asking me questions I have no way of answering and it pisses me off when it shouldn't. But I don't know when my course will start again and I don't know when my placement will start again and I don't know when real life will resume. We only just got water on at full strength and considering the way it's been going on and off for days at a time, who knows if it will stay that way. Some of the city is still without power and water at ALL, let alone the people who lost homes and families and lives. So yeah, I don't know when classes will resume again.

Stop asking.

I used to spend my life in my high school theatre. There were days I could be at school from 8 in the morning until 9-10 at night. I didn't drive until I was 21 because instead of taking driver's ed, I was doing everything I possibly could in that theatre. I ate, slept and breathed that place.

When I was in my final year of high school and I was on my way to rehearsal when I saw a little girl in the hallway behind the theatre, crying. She was about eight and I went over to her to ask what was wrong. She said her mother was supposed to pick her up a half an hour before that (why she was being picked up at a high school when she was 8, I still do not know) and she was scared that her mother had been in a car accident. I asked if her mother had a cell phone and she nodded, so I led the poor girl through to the speech office so she could try calling her mother.

When there was no answer, and the girl started crying again, I told her we should go out to where she was supposed to be picked up and I would wait with her.

I ended up waiting with her for nearly 45 minutes. I kept her calmer than she probably would have been by talking about stupid things and telling her ridiculous stories about myself and my very strange friends. Her mother eventually came by and the girl hugged me and they went on their way. I have no idea why the mother was late, or what happened, but I never saw the girl again and I don't remember her name.

What I do remember, was that I was late to my rehearsal. I knew I would be, and since one of the advantages of my crazy brain is that it traps things inside its cage of memory, I had the entire play memorized already so I figured it would be okay. The director wasn't pleased however, and he informed me of this. I told him I had been waiting with a scared, little girl, and he asked me why that was my responsibility.

You know...if that's how you think, then I guess it wasn't. My responsibility was to my cast mates and my director and despite the fact that I was never late before and always went above and beyond to help and be do whatever I could to move the production forward, I was still late this time and that had inconvenienced people. I still feel like the right thing to do was to stay with the poor girl. What about my responsibility to help out another human being; to care for someone who was scared and alone? If I had been that scared little girl, I would hope someone would have extended the same kindness to me. I just apologized and we got on with it, but I never really forgot that.

I'm not someone who can pass people by. Which is why I am the one who ends up sitting with the homeless person on the street who passed out and hit their head on the pavement so hard they are bleeding into their eyes, while they wait (for over an hour) for the ambulance to come. The amount of people who walked by that day, averting their eyes so they didn't have to see, makes me feel ashamed. I don't ever want to be that kind of person. It's why I'm doing what I'm doing, despite the fact that I am not okay. The helping people is as natural as breathing. It's not going out of my way, because helping people is my way. It's everything else that's the problem. Forcing myself to leave my home, when it's the only place that I feel safe. Forcing myself to talk to people, even though I'm terrified of it. All that functioning as if I don't panic about every little thing, that's the hard part. It makes me feel like I have no right to act like I could actually help. I feel barely human. Sometimes I feel like giving up. But I won't. I can't. I'm taking responsibility. I just wish it wasn't so hard.

Whomever it is outside who keeps honking that freaking tootyhorn is about to get my foot up their ass in a minute.

No, really, I'm happy.

I actually am, I just hate tootyhorns!

EDIT: Wow. Neil Gaiman wrote a review of the Dresden Dolls reunion performances and while I like Amanda's solo stuff more, I am thinking now that is because I never saw the Dresden Dolls live. This review had me sobbing by the end (I do that. If it's emotional, I cry) and it's absolutely beautiful and frank and real and I love it.

"How do you sleep at night? It must be like catching lightning in a jar."

It's interesting being surrounded by social workers who are going through trauma along with everyone else in Christchurch. Some of the people in my course are absolutely torn apart over the earthquake and I'm realising I am not as okay with it as I thought when EVERY loud noise in the building makes me nearly dive under the desk. When I got home I have earthquake dreams because I couldn't sleep last night and now all I can dream are shakeyshakeshakes. Arrggghhhhhnotcool. And it doesn't help that then we have a lecture on mental health services and the teacher (lovely lady, honestly!) is talking about how some people feel unwell or whatever and I'm like ...god I feel pretty fucking unwell sometimes! Like now, not wanting to leave my home because aftershocks could happen at any time and what if shit falls on me and lalala headfuck.

BUT. Surrounded by social workers in training IS good. I send a text message to one of them and I get a reply in seconds that makes me feel better. Pretty awesome.

I am so tired. So unable to sleep. I should try to remember, when I think I can get to sleep without sleeping pills, that I AM MESSED UP and my brain doesn't just shut off. I can function and sometimes my ability to function surprises me, but that doesn't mean I'm a-okay. Lara, learn your limits. Take the damn pills. You'll feel better the next day.

(Also sometimes RP scenes give me flashbacks, but I have no one to blame but myself, because I did read the warning thing and read it anyway! Once again, I need to learn to listen to ME...)