I am an artiste

   So I've basically been spending the past month or so in Dunedin, staying at a place with no internet whatsoever because some dickhead stole the router a while ago.

   What do you do with a laptop but no internet?

   Paint.

   Enjoy these lovely artworks I made for you. Because I care.

   Warning: there may be some naughty words ahead.

Evolution in Action

Go Sit in the Naughty Corner and Think About What You've Done

True Love

Look Guys I Made Some Art (It says fuck, by the way. Very profound.)

This Ferret Only Has Three Legs

Fabulous at any Size

Mr Mayonnaise

Poptarts: A Review

   In the middle of nowhere, somewhere in the ocean, is a small nation consisting of several islands, called New Zealand (or Aotearoa if you would like to be politically correct) which has an abundance of sheep, super slow internet, and now L&P flavoured white chocolate, which kinda tastes like you left the orange in your lunchbox next to your white chocolate bar and now they taste a little like each other but not in a good way, plus it has popping candy in it because the L&P drink, for all my foreign readers, is carbonated.

What has this got to do with anything? Well, living in a small island nation in the middle of nowhere (slightly south of Australia, in fact) we don't have anything. At all. It all has to come from here (hence L&P and sheep) or be imported, which makes everything really really expensive. If you're lucky. If companies even want to export to a tiny island nation in the middle of nowhere. I'm looking at you, Hostess. When twinkies went extinct, we didn't even know about them.

This also makes it a huge novelty when something the rest of the world takes for granted, (say, Doritos, actually fast broadband, and of course, Poptarts) becomes finally available here.

And yes kiwis, Poptarts are now available in New Zealand.

Poptarts are a breakfast food, apparently. So's anything you eat in the morning though, be it cereal, pancakes, or sheep's eyeballs. But I digress. I knew Poptarts were sugary and unhealthy. But upon actually trying one, I have come to one conclusion: Poptarts are the closest that New Zealanders can get to finally having candy for breakfast. And it being legit.

It's practically all the food groups: sugar, fat, and pink.

Holy ever loving fuck are Poptarts sugary.

So in vaguely related news, I've been in Dunedin for the past month or so, and one person I've been seeing plenty of is the lovely, and very American Gareth McMullen.

You know.  The one who keeps submitting all the titty pics and dick jokes to this blog.

He described Poptarts as being as if Jesus, both Queen Elizabeths, Buddha and the third emperor of Mexico were all to have a gang bang in your mouth: you aren't quite sure if it's good or bad but at the very least, it's an interesting and memorable experience. With a description like that, we definitely needed to make that trip to the supermarket so he could take my Poptart virginity. Pop my cherry flavoured Poptart if you will. We chose cherry flavoured because those and the wildberry ones were the only flavours left, as most of Dunedin had discovered the novelty of this new product already, despite the exorbitant price. ($10 for a box, daylight robbery!)

We skipped home. We put the Poptarts in the toaster. I put the Poptart in my mouth. I instantly developed type 2 diabetes.

It was kinda like an artificially flavoured cherry-filled cookie with sickeningly sweet pink icing that was still warm from the toaster. My mind was not blown. Neither Queen Elizabeths were gang banged in my mouth. It wasn't unpleasant (if a little too sugary) but it didn't really live up to the hype either.

New Zealand: this is my recommendation to you. Don't waste your money on Poptarts, you will probably be disappointed and seriously man you could buy several bags of Doritos with the $10 you didn't spend on Poptarts. Remember when we first got Doritos here? And how excited you were? Those things are still fucking tasty.

Or have a salad and go for a jog, you know. To each their own.

Shameless self promotion and other ways you can stalk me if you so desire

Sometime ago I made myself a twitter account. I posted from it... once? I think? I have no idea what to do with it because most of what I have to say takes up more than 140 characters and anything else that's witty enough goes on Facebook where people like my statuses to validate my existence. I think I'm following Dave Grohl on Twitter and maybe a couple more people but its pretty pointless as I never go on. If someone can explain to me how I should be using this Twitter thing and I get into it I'll post a link on here sometime.

   Tumblr. I didn't get that for the longest time either. Except now I do. And you should follow me, because I post pretty things and everyone loves pretty things. Rats and Rock n Roll is my personal tumblr, it has cool stuff and pretty stuff and only the occasional selfie, and you can totally ask me anything. 

   If art's more your thing (it is mine) then you can follow my art tumblr which has all my drawings, or my Facebook page for my art. I haven't really talked about it much on here but it's something I've been doing seriously for the last year or so and it's my "real job" (which, by the way kids, is a bad idea, because artists make very little money.) My work is pretty abstract and has lots of eyes and trees and rainbows, plus I also do a lot of portraits and commission work. Here's a link to my deviantart if that's your thing.

   Anyway, apologies for the link spam, and to make up for it, here's a kitten.

"Why? Because I'm fluffy, that's why."

Depression Part 2: Yes, I'm aware that I have hair, can we please talk about something else now

   So after that little breakup with Scott, I may have promised you a little series of "Adventures of a Single Girl" in which I would document all the wonderful fabulous things I was doing because I'm a strong independent woman who don't need no man because I'm too busy going off and doing my own thing all the time. And would you look at that, I haven't updated Adventures at all since that promise. Why is that?

DING DING DING DING DING. Your answer, "Bellez is a sad pathetic loser" is absolutely correct!  Your prize: this shitty drawing.

   And then I went and proved it to you by writing that little thing about how I'm miserable but I'm totally going to go get help and I was going to be optimistic about getting better despite the fact that I'm not entirely sure how to be optimistic. So it's time to update you: I "sought help."

   So I got put on the emergency list for help somehow which I think means they were worried that I'd down a bottle or two of nail polish remover despite the fact that I insisted that, while I was pretty depressed, I was far from suicidal. What the emergency list actually seems to mean is that they have a meeting about me in a couple of days and maybe I'll be able to see a counselor a week after that. Just as well I don't have the stomach for nail polish remover. Anyway. I've had my first appointment so it seems appropriate to write about how it went.

   I don't think she was actually a counselor but she was a very nice person which is always a good start. She insisted I have plenty of water to drink, sit down, and be complimented on my most defining characteristic: my hair.

This is how long and red it is now. Also,  keep in  mind it (nor I) hardly ever look this good.

While I take pride in my hair (sometimes, when I can be bothered, because with this amount of it its like taking care of a small child) it was not what I had in mind for this session. I don't know, I wanted to focus on things that I struggle to cope with, such as adoption, this bloody break up, motivation, etc. Maybe discuss stategies for coping.

   Nope. Apparently my hair is amazing and that should cure my depression.

   The only strategy suggested was to go for a daily walk in order to start to get more fit and motivate me to do something damn it. Anyway then it snowed, so I think I've been for my walk maybe four times in the last couple of weeks since the appointment? I dont know if it's helping. Anyway.

   I have no idea when the next appointment is and at the moment I'm struggling to care. I really wanted to be able to tell you guys that I'm feeling more positive about things since deciding to "get help" but now that I've actually done that, things feel more vague and pointless than ever.

  Hopefully the next update is happier..

Chocolate Icecream Can't Fix my Depression: I'm Out of Icecream and my Jeans Feel Tight

Just kidding, jeans are for people who leave the house. I'm wearing baggy sweatpants.

   I'm not sure if I'm going to publish this. Let's see how this goes, shall we?

   So, if you've read my blog much before, you know I'm a huge fan of Allie Brosh's Hyperbole and a Half, because her blog is witty, funny, and beautifully relatable. Her most recent post was Adventures in Depression, in which she comes to terms with how she's been. I remember reading it shortly after it appeared on her blog and thinking shucks, this is almost word for word how I've been feeling, right down to the pile of laundry that I'll do "later." I appreciated the accurate descriptions, and recognised that I was probably also suffering from depression. Being the totally rational and sensible person I was, I dealt with this by shoving it to the back of my mind to instead distract myself by endlessly browsing Reddit and eating.

   I think I've got to the point where I've realised now that if my problem is not being fixed by chocolate icecream, perhaps I ought to try a different strategy. Anyway, tonight I seriously decided apathy and icecream wasn't going to cut it and I'm actually going to do something. I'm a little embarrassed it took so long between "realising I probably have depression" and "actually actively deciding to do something about it"- it's worth pointing out that Adventures in Depression was published well over a year ago. Better late than never, I suppose. I think I put it off for so long for two reasons:

1. If I pretend I'm not depressed maybe I won't be depressed and just be happy. (The logic is not very strong with this one.)

2. I didn't really know where to start.

   Everyone has to have their breaking point where they decide "enough is enough." Mine happened about a week ago. I'd been out drinking in town because I'd convinced myself that it meant that at least I'd left the house and been sociable, so that counts as achieving something, right? And I'd woken up on a friend's couch the next morning, realised I'd managed to lose my eftpos card, my ipod, my keys and my favourite lipstick. Also my other friend was going to get me Fergburger the previous night, but I hadn't met up with them and thus had missed out. As this post has already made apparent, food is a strong motivating factor for me because food doesn't judge you. So that was the last straw, really. I picked myself up, walked home (which was particularly unpleasant when I was hungry and didn't have music to listen to) and threw myself on my bed, feeling sorry for myself and deciding that I was stupid and should know better than to ever leave the house again.

Best comfort food ever. They didn't even pay me to say that, but if they gave me a free Chief Wiggum burger, I would totally whore out my integrity for food and write a whole blog post about why it is the best burger place in the south island at least. OH GOD I'M SO HUNGRY.

   After stewing on that for a week or so, I've decided I have had enough. It's normally something I'd cringe about, but I posted on Facebook basically saying I'd like to get help but have no clue where to start. I was taken aback by the kindness of my Facebook friends.

   They sent me a lot of supportive messages and reminded me that treatment for depression is often free in New Zealand, so as not to let cost be a barrier to my getting better, and I was sent a couple of helpful links. One was The Lowdown. It's been advertised to death on New Zealand television, but for some reason I'd never got around to checking it out. It's pretty decent, and most importantly, relevant. In the sense that I'd come across many "help" sites for depression, but they were nearly all based in America, so the numbers they provided for helplines were not particularly useful for me.

   Another link I was given was for Depression Quest. "Depression Quest" sounds like a super lame game focused on achievements such as "eating all the icecream again, you disgusting fat slob" and "drowning in your own tears and self pity" but is actually an interactive fiction game where you play, surprise surprise, a depressed person. As you go on and make more "depressed" choices in the game, you find your options become more and more limited- but as you make better decisions for your mental health and relationships, you are able to make more choices and start to get better. It's supposed to be able to help people understand what living with depression is like, and make you feel like you are not alone in how you feel. Anyway, I "won" kinda. I got the ending where things are starting to get better and you realise that you can cope with this aspect of your life.

   For me, this was a revelation. You see, I've always considered being depressed as a part of my life, and a part of myself. Like no matter what effort I make, it's always going to be there, and I'm always going to feel this way, and I'm  never going to get any better. The ending of Depression Quest showed me that even though it might never go away, I can learn to cope with it and enjoy life and have healthy relationships and do stuff. It's part of me, sure, but it's not going to rule my life like it is currently. I wanted to do something about it.

   I dealt with this by going back on Reddit and eating a bowl of noodles and cheese.

   I kept meaning to do something about this. It was always in the back of my mind. But the first place to go would be my GP- and due to unemployment etc, I convinced myself that I couldn't afford to go to the doctor, and that I'll just have to sit at home by myself until I'd convinced myself that I was better.

   At least my friends knew about it now. At least they were able to be supportive. I found that to be a helpful start at least. One of them sent me another link: Allie had made another post about depression at Hyperbole and a Half, and it was fantastic.

Also this drawing by her became my Facebook profile picture for a couple of days because it perfectly summed up exactly how I was feeling.

   As much as I found these links inspiring and helpful, and as much as I realised I was depressed and wanted to do something about it, for the past couple of years, my motivation to do anything has been at an all time low. Seriously. I started writing this about a month ago, and I'm only just finishing it now.

   I got sick, physically. That was what prompted me. I'd been in Dunedin staying at a friend's, when I suddenly got horrifically sick. I couldn't afford to see a doctor in Dunedin- even more expensive being away from home, so I had to wait it out until my bus back to Queenstown and take painkillers galore and drink my own bodyweight in water twice a day until then. It was not very pleasant.

   Also, I wasn't able to get a bus back to Queenstown until a Friday night, which meant I had to tough it out for the weekend or pay weekend rates for the doctor, which are even worse when you're unemployed. (Also: never become an artist. Sure, I'm doing something I love, but I can't even afford to take care of myself when I'm sick.)

   I thought I could tough it out for another couple of days. Anyway, by 10 am on Saturday, I was curled up in agony on my living room floor, and my mum insisted I was going to the doctors.

   While I was there, I thought, considering I was paying $80 for the visit, I might as well get my money's worth and mention my depression to my doctor, who said she could arrange some things and get me some help for free. Oh, also, I'm not in pain and dying now, which is nice. Eighty bloody dollars though...

   I'm seeing someone on Friday. I'll keep you posted. Probably. If I find the motivation...

Props Boy and the Day I Learnt I am not Cool

   During the 90's in New Zealand, there was a children's television programme called What Now. Technically, it's still going, but I haven't watched it since 2004-ish so as not to spoil my wonderful nostalgic memories. (Also my cousin was talking to me about it about a month ago and told me it has changed considerably from the format I remember.)

   As a kiddie, I loved that show. It had wacky presenters (Caro, Jase, Shavaughn, Props Boy etc) awesome cartoons (I remember it was where I was first introduced to Courage the Cowardly Dog) and a bizarre serial acted by Barbies called Serial Stuff which I loved for some reason.

I always wanted to know what Props Boy looked like with the hat off. Well now I know. Also while researching this, I learnt he's in a fairly mediocre band. Well, I lie. I always thought "Ways to Run" was an alright song.

   Anyway, only some of this is relevant to the traumatic childhood story I'm about to tell you.

   One segment they had on What Now was reading out the super cool letters that kids had sent into them. It was my absolute life goal as a six year old to write them a letter and have it read it out on the show. It would be almost like being New Zealand famous, to my six year old mind at least. So every Sunday morning while watching the show, I'd get out my half-dried up felt pens and my crummy Rose Art Crayons and try to write them a decent letter.

   I wasn't stupid. Well, not entirely. I knew in order to make my letter stand out, it had to have cool things like glitter and colour and stickers. I didn't have any of those and Rose Art was not going to cut it. I decided all I could do was try to draw the presenters of the show and hope my pathetic portrait would at least gain sympathy points. Well, that and some nice "decorations". I decided, in order to show how super cool I was, I'd draw awesome symbols in the margins like stars, hearts, and this really awesome spiral-looking thing I'd seen scrawled in permanent marker on one of the desks at my primary school. My mum looked over my shoulder to see what I was drawing, and immediately snatched up the letter, demanding to know why I was drawing swastikas all over it.

   Six year old me was wonderfully sheltered, and had no idea what a swastika was, or Nazis, or Hitler, or any of that. I just thought it was a cool square-ish spiral- and to be fair, for thousands of years it was, in many cultures, before Nazis adopted it as theirs. Regardless, my mother was well aware that it was not appropriate for children's television, and sat me down and explained to me in excrutiating detail about what the holocaust was.

   That was the last time I ever tried to write to What Now. I wonder if I could send them a letter now, and maybe win some stickers or a tshirt. I don't think they let adults enter though. What a shame.

Bonus: I found a small part of Serial Stuff and none of it makes sense.

Gay Marriage: We've come so far (except those of us who haven't)

   Recently New Zealand achieved something we should all be proud of. For once, it wasn't even anything to do with our sporting prowess, or Flight of the Concords, or Peter Jackson, or sheep, or whatever it is we're famous for now.

   Recently New Zealand made gay marriage legal. Fuck yeah indeed. It makes us only the 12th country in the world to recognise same sex marriages (along with other forward thinking countries as Sweden, Canada and the Netherlands) and the only bad thing about it is that it's not legal in most other countries. Oh, and the people here opposed to it.

Warning: rant time.

   Yes, while the rest of the country was celebrating the awesome progress we've made in giving gays the same rights as every other kiwi, there were a small minority horrified that the country, in their opinion, is going to hell in a handcart, starting with the destruction of marriage, families, and moral standards.

"GOOD HEAVENS, WON'T SOMEBODY THINK OF THE CHILDREN?"

   One of the opponents was Colin Craig, of New Zealand's Conservative Party. While it is one thing for him to have his own (bigoted, intolerant) opinions on gay marriage, it baffled me how he was able to say with a straight face that this is a "failure of democracy" and not something most New Zealanders wish to allow. A Facebook friend of mine suggested his ability to keep a straight face while saying all this was probably due to the "massive black dildo" he had shoved up his backside at the time. I'll let you make your own decision on that one.

   On top of that, there's now Protect Marriage NZ urging kiwis to pledge not to vote for politicians who voted in favour of gay marriage. Is this democracy in action? Absolutely. Is it still ignorant? Heck yeah. Do heterosexual marriages in New Zealand really need "protecting"? From what, exactly? How will gay marriage threaten the sanctity of heterosexual marriage? One time, about a year ago, I was in a bar with some friends when a man thirty years (ish) my senior came up to me and asked if I wanted to be his fourth wife. I'm telling you, there's nothing sacred or special about that.

   Are you opposed to gay marriage because of your religious beliefs? I don't mean to frighten you, but people of any religion can get married. Even atheists. Marriage does not belong exclusively to Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Wiccans or Pastafarians. If you want a religious marriage following your spiritual beliefs, go right ahead. The fact that two people of the same sex can have a marriage based on their values does not affect you at all.

   Are you opposed to gay marriage because gays squick you out because whenever you think about gay relationships, all you can picture is ew, bumsex? You should probably stop picturing it. Unless you want to picture it. I'm not one to judge. (On a side note, you do realise that straight couples can engage in anal intercourse too, right? Are you going to picture that every time you think about heterosexual relationships?)

Anyway. I'm sorry, that was a massive rant. I'm done now, almost. I just want to leave you with this final point. I don't know if I will ever get married in the future. And most likely not to the drunk guy who offered to let me be his fourth wife. But I certainly won't try to stop anyone else in this country from their right to get married. Love is love, whether you're gay, straight, bisexual.... and everyone should have equal rights to love.

   Even  Colin Craig, who is in love with his possibly delusional view of New Zealanders' views.