I finally did it!

I have tried to learn Te Reo a few times over the years and, although I picked up a few words, I never managed to learn much or pass the course. One provider even said “I needed a more basic course” and it was their beginner level one! Hmmm. I don’t have an ear for language and suspect it’s tied to my utter lack of musicality.

This time I enrolled in the Te Waananga o Aotearoa Papa Reo course, with has books, audio and a wonderful local Kaitiaki to support me. One year on … I have passed the course. 

Am I proficient? Heck no. But I can introduce myself, ask & answer basic questions and so on. Now that the course is complete, I’m going to go back to book one and start again, learning all the extra words I didn’t have time for initially. I highly recommend the course; the structure is good, and the support makes it so much more achievable.

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When your privilege shows

I’m (slightly) hesitant to write this, but angry enough I will anyway! I won’t use the sportsman’s name because he doesn’t need more publicity. A prominent sportsman is raising money via GoFundMe to fight a legal battle he can well afford form his own bank account.

He says it’s about religious freedom, but no one is stopping him practising his religion. The problem is him using his sports profile to spread anti-gay anti-transgender etc hatred. That’s dangerous, especially when he was a serious following in Pasifika youth.

The page has raised a lot of money very quickly, which is sad when other pages, such as for kids with cancer, are struggling. Now people are giving money to LGBTQ causes instead, in anti-him pledges. That makes my heart sing.

My family is rainbow – I won’t bother trying to explain, because who cares? They’re all awesome people who we love. We have a mix of pronouns and, again, who cares? I use she/her, some use he/him and one is – I think – opting for they/them over ze/zir.

My friends and colleagues are rainbow too. When people attack the rainbow community it’s deeply personal to me. If your god makes you hate people, find another god, because your god sucks. If you have a god, and I don’t, I’d hope they encourage love, kindness and respect. If you interact with me on social media, please show  respect – thank you!

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Another week almost done & dusted

I love recording life’s wee details in my Dylusions dyary. I’ve never kept a ‘proper’ diary but this format suits me; a bit of art, a couple of photos, and whatever I want to record. Sometimes it’s day by day, sometimes one event needs the whole page; this week, it’s all about family, love and loss. Hug the people you love…

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Well, that pushed my buttons

The journaling on this page tells the story!

This is the first layout in a new 5×8″ Dylusions journal – I love the high quality stock for working on. I used Dylusions paints (Periwinkle blue, Vibrant turquoise, Mushy peas), stencils (Diamonds in the rough, Teardrops, Squares) and stamps (Dy’s alphabet), letter stamps (Tim Holtz tall text), Pitt Big Brush pen in walnut, Distress Ink in black soot for the edges of the journal strips, Ranger Distress collage medium & Tombow Mono adhesive. The image is from an old magazine – I keep files of people, buildings, angels, religious icons and flowers.

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My art journal habit

I’m also teaching an art journal class in Greymouth next month and, as with gelli printing, participants get a pack to get them started. When I teach art journaling its about how to get going, tips and tricks, making it your own.

Why do I art journal? It’s a fun, creative outlet with no rules. It is whatever I want it to be on the day; writing or no writing, paint or collage, personal thoughts – found word poems – song lyrics, deep and meaningful or light-hearted.

I write down the things that are in my heart and soul; sometimes I leave it so it can be read, other times I journal in such a way that even I can’t re-read it. My journals are a trusted friend where I pour out my feelings and work through anything that’s bothering me. I frequently record song lyrics – I love recording the music I listen to – and often there’s a message in the song I chose on the day.

Here’s a fairly random selection of pages I have created in the last 2 or 3 years. I hope you enjoy the variety of colours, styles and imagery.

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Gelli-ing in Greymouth

I’m teaching a couple of art classes in Greymouth next month, so I’ve been busy putting class packs together. I love gelli printing because it’s something anyone can have fun with, regardless of artistic or physical abilities. There’s no toxic chemicals and you don’t need a lot of time or materials.

I thought I’d share a few fav prints from the last two or three years; as you can see, gelli printing can produce a wide variety of styles. Some prints I keep as artworks in their own right, some become the base for mixed media works, some become part of collages, some I cut up and use when I’m making cards.

 

When you’re the older generation

Yesterday I visited someone who I had been fond of; a strong, sweet, determined woman. We’d been tangentially related by marriage for a time (too complicated, let’s not go there – and not my story to tell). I visited as part of seeing some relatives. Today she passed away in that sudden-but-not-totally-unexpected way the 90+ sometimes do.

She was, I think, the last of her generation in that family, and certainly mine. Mum and Dad had me at 40, so I sit between generations. All the same, when Mum died 6 years ago I became, at 48, one of the older generation in my family. A history keeper, story teller, someone meant to remember all the threads and be able to tie them together.

It’s not a role I felt ready for then, nor do I now. I love scrapbooking so I’m a history keeper and story-teller in that sense. But the “who used to live where” and what was great Uncle Whatsit’s son called?” is beyond me. I’m not good with genealogy or remembering how distant relatives tie in. If, in 40 years’ time, I’m the old lady in the rest home and my great-nieces and great-nephews come looking for answers, I hope Google is ready – because I won’t be…

Shirley – Mum and Dad were very fond of you. You were always kind to me, and welcoming. Rest well.

 

Being an adult means self-care

Self-care. It’s not all yoga, warm baths and getting your nails done with your bff. It can mean harder stuff, like cervical smears (thank goodness I don’t have to anymore), mammograms, exercising even when you don’t want to and a squillion other ‘not so fun’ things. 

A couple of years ago my Dr and I talked about a ‘thing’ on the side of my face. Should we cut it out? Well, maybe, but very near the nerve that controls your face, and also right by my ear so it would sound yuk! We opted to try a topical treatment used for cancer spots. Yeah nah!! It didn’t budge even a millimetre. 

I did what any sensible adult would do. I ignored it. Only now it’s got worse. I can hear my mother saying, “I told you so”.  

Trouble is a few years back I had a lump cut out of the back of my thigh. Five minute job, Cath, you’ll be fine. Except the Dr couldn’t get to the bottom of the lump and, 35 minutes in, had to inject more pain relief so he could keep digging. So, I have good reason to be a sook about it, kind of…

 

Anyway, just now I have logged onto managemyhealth and made an appointment with my fa Dr to get a referral to a skin specialist so it can be removed. Can anyone recommend a favourite brand of brave pills?

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