Pictures!

Here are some pretty pictures. Consider them a late Christmas present. Also, the "o" key on my keyboard keeps sticking, so it is an appropriate time for a picture post.

2010

As today is the last day of 2010, its time to write an absurdly nostalgic overview of the past year...


• Homeless Friends = Best Friends

Me and Homeless Lee at the Bear Hands Wall- "We built this wall with our bare hands- our bear hands!"

In January, I befriended two freedom campers (I use the term "freedom campers" extremely loosely here, as they were basically backpackers who ran out of money after they spent it all on booze) from England (well, where else could it be but England!) named Matt and Lee. By the end of February, when they left, I was broke. Coincidence? I think not.

• All Scottish Men Are Named Euan

 Because I met three Euans-from-Scotland in the space of around two days, bringing me to the conclusion that in Scotland, it must be illegal to name your son anything but Euan. They did have lovely accents though.

• Making Love(ly Music)



Life is always cheerful when you're Rainbow Boots...

 Yes, I invented Rainbow Boots last year, but this year she got her very own cartoon, Making Love(ly Music), of which the first few cartoons are up here. I must put some more up in the new year.

• Sick Cookies Make Cool Brothers



My brother is awesome, basically.


My little brother David just started talking to me this year, which automatically makes him cool, if you haven't yet figured that out. He even got his own character in Making Love(ly Music) called The Sick Cookie. Because he is disgusting.

• I Managed To Remain Single For Nearly All of 2010

This is less of an achievement and more of a fact. I remained single nearly all year, until on Christmas Eve I got a boyfriend for an early Christmas present, basically. He is lovely. That is all I need to say.

• I Started A Blog

Mostly after being inspired by Allie Brosh of Hyperbole and a Half, who I am pretty much madly in love with. Her blog is a lot better than mine though.

• I (Legally, At Least) Became An Adult

I turned 18 this year, which is quite exciting, although it (as yet) hasn't impacted my life all that much because I don't really like going out all that often, and I haven't voted yet, and all that seems to have happened is that everything costs more now and I have to pay bank fees which is a bitch. Still. I feel old. I've almost learnt how to drink responsibly now too.

In other news...

• Nobody really likes BP anymore after a massive oil spill that made greenies of us all. Conveniently, we were learning about environmentalism in French class, and so learnt all sorts of exciting rude things to call BP.

• We discovered that a majority of New Zealanders are actually racists, sexists, and just generally not very tolerant people after Paul Henry got in trouble for making racist comments about the Governor General and his apparent lack of New Zealand-ness, as well as making fun of Sheila Dikshit's name (oh, GROW UP. Yes, I know it sounds like dick shit. Lets now move on please) and had already got a bit of a telling off for commenting on the facial hair of a woman he interviewed. Many New Zealanders rushed to Henry's defence, claiming that he was "just saying what we're all thinking" which just goes to show how terrible we are as a nation. Good job New Zealand!

• Haiti's really not the place to be at the moment.

• The All Whites didn't fail spectacularly at the World Cup, and we had something to be proud of, telling everyone that our football team was "unbeaten." We didn't lose a single game. Or win one either. We just drew. Pretty good effort though, for a country that is apparently obsessed with rugby. Is in unpatriotic if I say I really could not care less about the All Blacks?

• There was an earthquake in Christchurch on the same day as my 18th birthday, which was terrible, because it means my mother didn't realise I was an adult until about midday. No one was directly killed by the earthquake, and the Cantabrians coped with the situation remarkably well. I doubt the same could be said if it had occurred in Auckland.

• For those who have been living under a rock in the past few months, (pun not intended) some Chilean miners were rescued after being trapped underground. We hoped for a similar happy ending for the 29 men trapped in the Pike River Mine, but unfortunately it was not to be.

• Some royals (ok, William and Kate) got engaged, and the world went crazy discussing Kate's "breeding" like she was a pedigree bulldog.

New Years Resolutions

1. Don't fail at school. Yeah, you're only going back part time to get some extra credits. Don't you dare use that as an excuse to procrastinate though, you lazy... you lazy thing that is lazy.

2. Get a real boyfriend. One that doesn't actually have an interest in someone else, or only talking to you because you have a vagina. Oh, and he can't hate me either. That bit is very important.

One I've actually achieved. Yay.

3. Lose weight. Just kidding. There's nothing wrong with your thighs, Bell-ez. But that tummy, well. You've looked seven months pregnant for a whole year now? Oh dear...

4. Learn to bake, damnit.

5. Post in Probably Not Sane more frequently.

6. Stop wasting all your money on cheese. Again, just kidding. It's not a waste if you're spending it all on cheese. As far as waste goes, with cheese, it's my waist that it goes straight to. (See item three.)

7. Start a band. For real this year.

8. Get along with my cousin better. Look, I tried really hard this year...

9. More cartoons posted to Making Lovely Music. Yes, I know they're tedious to do on MS Paint but really, I have them all written, so at least that bit is out of the way.

10. Stay drug free. Not too hard when you're terrified of the bedroom window, and you know it will be a million and one times scarier on drugs.

Assorted facts and observations

These are all completely true.



Traumatising.




"Mr Snorkel" is not pronounced "colon j"



It's the thought that counts, I guess.



... and this is why I'm fat.



Except one is about getting trashed, and the other is about how sexy the girls are. Otherwise the same song.



You will starve to death.




Not from experience. Really. I swear. Yeah, maybe.



I'm serious. Google that shit. It will blow your mind.

Adoption Part II

I've been wanting to write another post on adoption ever since I wrote my first one, mostly because the whole thing is huge and there's so much more that I want to say. So, sorry. This will be a serious post.

   I guess my thoughts were triggered the other day when I was talking to an old friend of mine who recently, at the age of seventeen, became a father. He told me they'd planned an open adoption, even going so far as to have chosen a family, but then she suddenly changed her mind. I'm unsure as to what exactly happened next, but from what I gather, she consumed a large amount of alcohol with the intention of harming the baby, opted out of the adoption, wouldn't have anything to do with the father of her child, then had the little baby boy herself, kept him, and named him after someone she had cheated with. Charming. Of course, I've only heard the biased version of events. But it got me wondering. And talking to my friend about it.

   As much as I'm opposed to the idea of adoption on principle, an open adoption really might have been the best option. I don't know if he would be able to be much of a father at this stage and, judging by her meltdown, I wonder how she will cope as a mother. At least with an open adoption, contact is maintained. Like making the most of a difficult situation. I cannot stress enough how important it is to have contact with my birthfamily. Whether you like it or not, where you come from will always make up a part of your identity- even if you aren't aware of it. Even if I never met my birthfamily, I would still have aspects of myself that are similar to them. Not just physical ones, either. My point being that, in knowing my birthfamily, I am able to know myself.

   As it is, this child is unlikely to know his father as of yet. He as chosen to stay out of the kid's life for now, drawing on his own childhood, and telling me it's better for the kid to have an absent father than a childhood dominated by conflict between his parents.
"When he's older, if he wants to meet me, I'd absolutely let him get to know me," he said, which reassured me somewhat, because I could relate it to my own experiences.

   I met my birthfather when I was almost twelve years old. Heck, I didn't even know of his existence until I was eight. Which may sound pretty crazy, but I'd never had a birthfather before, so I'd never questioned why I didn't have one. I just never thought of it at that age, and had always assumed John, my birthmother's husband, must be my father. I took it all for granted until one night when my adoptive parents told me I had a father. Named Shane.

   My world changed.

   I was curious, desperate to know who he was. When you are young, and you don't know these things, your head fills with fantasies. That he's a rockstar, or famous for something, or, at the very least, rich and successful. That he's someone everyone will be jealous of when I tell them, "Oh, he's my dad."

  Shane is none of those, but I don't care.

   He's not a rockstar. He's not famous or rich or "successful"- whatever that word means anyway. He hasn't had a job in a while, and he's shy, and he lives in a small place in Corstophine with his son Kaleb, another of my half brothers. But when anyone hears me talk about them, I am proud.

   I think Kaleb must be nine or ten now, and he's a bright kid, even though sometimes he's got more energy than he can handle, and he can be a bit weird. Kind of how I was at his age, though. He loves to draw, and to read, so every time I come to visit, he draws me a picture and proudly shows me the latest book he's reading. He got through Charlie and the Chocolate Factory fairly quickly.

   Sorry, this has quickly turned from a serious discussion about adoption to me showing off about my little brother in an almost mum-blog way. Back on task, Bell-ez!

   Meeting my dad when I was twelve, and not growing up with him has given me a different perspective on him, and when we hang out, he's more like a friend than anything else. And I know parents aren't supposed to be your mates (cringe) but he never really got the opportunity to be my parent, either.

   I wonder if this will be the experience of my friend's kid in years to come, should he decide to meet his father. And I sure hope he does, purely for the reason that knowing family = knowing self.

    Blood is thicker than water, but you need both to survive.

Today was just awesome. As is my family.

   Today has, thus far, been the highlight of my holidays. I mean, yesterday was also amazing. I saw a friend, we hung out, and, well. Cam is just awesome. But today I got to see my family.

   I'd been looking forward to it for ages. I haven't seen David or my dad in ages, after all. My mum threatened to not let me see them, and I worried that maybe I wouldn't be able to. Nevertheless, I bought some cookies and prepared to see them.

How to make David feel special.

   So I saw my dad. Which was awesome. He is just... awesome. I didn't meet him until I was eleven or twelve, so when I see him, he acts more like a friend than a dad. Adoption tends to lead to these situations. I got to spend all of an hour with him, then I went to see my brother.

   I may have said this before, but David, also, is awesome. Like, really awesome. Like, I brought him cookies, awesome. So we walked up a hill and ate cookies, or rather he ate cookies and I got somewhat sick of them. We did some exploring. We found a bush track that wasn't, and a house with a gay pride flag that David has since gone to great efforts to avoid. I'm guessing I do not have a gay brother then.

   I only got to see David for an hour, and after then it was a four hour drive back home. But even after my short time with my family, it got me thinking about adoption and such things. Family. And identity. Perhaps another deep blog post is in order. But for now, I need some sleep.

Thankyou Kiran!

Kiran is my friend's son, and quite possibly one of the coolest kids you'll ever come across. Why is that? Well, he follows Probably Not Sane, of course. :) He's also insanely good at frisbee golf.

Kiran, there's a picture coming up for you. Thankyou.

Here's your picture.

Frisbee golf