Okay, so I thought maybe I'd take another look at this thing. Not because I have anything particularly interesting or important to say, but because I'm pretty sure that no one will look at it, and it's less likely to be picked up than a piece of paper. Or whatever.

So things are pretty flat in my life at the moment. I'm on mid-year break until sometime in July, and should really be spending my time doing research, though I know the chances of me doing something about this before the last week in the holidays are hovering somewhere around the 30% mark. We'll see how that goes.

Things I'm gonna try and do by the end of this break:

• Essay for my GDR literature class
• My translation report
• Organise the research for my 489 paper
• Start on my thesis
• Try not to fuck up tremendously

My hopes are not high.

One evening in Wonderland

So, after having been in Wonderland for over 24 hours, I now feel justified in making an objective statement about this place. And here it is: it's shit. Missioning around in streets named after long-forgotten British people of note while the sun slinks off behind a mountain range has a certain appeal, it's true, but one can only find excitement in the grid-like patterns of the road fo so long. For me, it was half an hour. There's something remotely unsatisfying about waiting half an hour to get a bus into the central city (where there is NOWHERE around to buy a pack of cigarettes), having your bus finally arrive (late), finding that the fares have risen and then scaling halfway up a mountain with all your shit in tow to an empty flat.
Though arriving here exactly a year after I moved down, I can understand why I was so enthusiastic about the place. The weather, when it wants to be, is extremely amazing, the streets seem vibrant due to the huge amount of tossers sitting outside drinking their flat whites (lattes are SO Auckland) and the music emanating from the bars and cafes is actually tolerable. While Wellington certainly has a lot going for it, I quickly grew weary of the 'individualists' roaming the streets in search of the scene while the societal detritus partied it up on Courtenay Place. To me, it seems like a city for dreamers; people who came down here to make a name for themselves and became stuck in their fantasies. But then, maybe it's just the cynic in me talking, cold and far away from things that matter.
Rant over.