In Limbo

My dear Sarah Jane,

Oh so good to hear from you. And great to hear your decluttering is going swimmingly. It's funny you bring up old uni notes/books etc; I was just talking to my friend Riddle last night about the fact that I kept all my old uni stuff for YEARS AND YEARS and of course hauled it around the various flats I was living in for the better part of a decade. What an eejit. It wasn't until I was packing to come here to the States that I biffed it all, although I did actually keep that Honour/Fleming textbook, just in case. Good old Honour/Fleming. It's sitting on my parents' bookshelf and will probably never be read again. Ha.

As of today, the festival site is a ghost town. No patrons, no interns (apart from a handful rolling around like tumbleweeds). Some of the seasonal staff are packing up, permanent staff are alreday starting to plan for next year. Me, I'm in major limbo right now. I'm heading back to New York tomorrow for a couple of weeks which is awesome but I'm a bit worried about money. But I'm just going to do as many free things as possible. The key word here is FREE. My list is as follows *ahem*:

1. Go to the Guggenheim. They have "Pay-what-you-wish" every Saturday 5:45–7:45pm.
2. Free Tai Chi in Central Park
3. Hang out in Bloomindales and get a free makeover. Apparently they sometimes have parties for brides-to-be and prom-goers in those big department stores, with champagne, DJs, lots of goodie bags and stuff. I can pretend. Whaddya mean, I don't look 17? WHADDRYOUSAYIN'?
4. There are actually bars in NYC that have unlimited free drinks every Tuesday. Granted, it's el cheapo PBR, but still. I'm in.
5. There's also this thing where you can swap your drivers licence for a bike and go cruising the streets for an afternoon. I think they even shut down traffic so it's just a bunch of cyclists tearing around like loonies. If it's true, that would be amazing. Research required.

So in other news, I might have something lined up on the job front but nothing is finalised so I'll keep it under my hat for the moment. But of course I shall keep you posted my dear. Write me soon. It makes me feel so much more grounded to hear all your news and know that Wellington is ticking along just fine without me.

Kiss kiss, Rebecca

Hello Dolly

Hello darling SJ.

I love your cheer-up post. I'm taking all your advice, for it is all worthy advice. And I actually feel a lot better already. I just got the wobbles the other day when I got that disappointing news from the embassy, but really, it is not the end of the universe. Every cloud etc etc. And yes, fifteen days flitting about NYC is a rather marvellous silver lining. It's like me moaning that my diamond necklaces are dreadfully heavy and my gold shoes are weighing me down on the dancefloor. Ridiculous really.

Right now I'm listening to Arcade Fire, then I'm going to listen to some Dolly Parton. Ah, DOLLY. You are my patron saint. I will never tire of you. Here is a picture of a lovely piece of work by Jenny Hart. It tickled my fancy bigtime, and I thought you might like it too.

What was that great Dolly quote? "It takes a lot of money to look this cheap." Perfect.

Beer Review #2

SAMUEL ADAMS
Price: US$9 for a six pack
The website says: “Full flavored with hops and malt yet balanced and complex.”
Tastes like: Malty sunshine.
Drink it when: To paraphrase Mme. Bollinger, I would recommend drinking Sam Adams when you’re happy and when you’re sad. Drink it when you’re alone. When you have company, you should consider it obligatory. Trifle with it if you’re not hungry and drink it when you are. Otherwise never touch it - unless you’re thirsty.
Beer memory: I personally tried this beer for the first time at a baseball game on July 4th. The Pittsfield Colonials were giving the New Jersey Jackals a walloping; I was wearing jandals (sorry, “flip flops”) and holding an American flag. It was so hot that evening, the first gulp of beer went down like ice cold nectar of the Beer Gods. Bliss in a plastic cup.

Gumboots

Dear Ginger Jane,
I love that clip you posted. More specifically, it makes me imagine my own metamorphosis into an eccentric older lady with a slightly dazed expression and a penchant for orange lipstick. It’s like a visual prophesy of sorts. It’s going to happen to you too, don’t fight it. You’ll be the ginger-haired foodie version, like Peta Mathias. I know you love Madame Mathias, so this won’t be an alarming prospect for you. In fact, I can see you embracing the situation with alacrity and a wide smile. It’s raining right now, so everyone here is wearing gumboots, which is super super cute. One thing I kind of love about this place is how schizophrenic the weather is. Check it out.

One minute it’s scorching, the next, thunderstorms. So in the spirit of gumboots, here is a weather-related, America-related song you might enjoy. Well, it’s not really about weather so much, but it is called “Last of the Melting Snow.” You’ll like it, I promise.

Smooches, Rebecca

PS: How’s your new budget treating you, my dear? I want a progress report. With diagrams, like you promised.

Halfway Point

Dear Sarah Jane,

I like your angry walrus a great deal. So I sent you a *real* letter about my daytrip to Rhode Island on Sunday… which I guess will probably reach you in about three months. One awesome thing I didn’t mention was the sheer number of crazy old people walking along the beach with metal detectors. Metal detecting seems to be a very popular pursuit in Rhode Island (along with complaining about the postal system ha ha). It cracks me up. I think someone should take the idea to its logical conclusion and dress up in full Jack Sparrow regalia while they shuffle and beep along the beach at dusk. “Argh me hearties! I just found… a nickel. And a lost spanner.”

So as of this week I’m halfway through my time in the States. Isn’t that nuts? It’s been a rose-tinted miasma of stinking hot nights, press releases, marshmallow fluff, reading O Magazine in the laundromat, talking to sweet old Jewish ladies in the box office, cut-grass smell, exposed timber (“ooooh rustic!”), cafeteria food (BBQ Mondays, pizza Thursdays), and editing endless program inserts. This week I get to meet a journalist from Vanity Fair and the almighty chief dance editor from the New York Times. We also have a company currently onsite entirely comprised of seven-foot tall Amazons and Adonis-types, who like to sun themselves on the lawn outside my office window. It’s extremely distracting.

So I need to start thinking about what I do next. Do I want to stay in Canada for a visit, or to live? After September I have two suitcases, no job, and no house. I think I might try and get a short term contract in Canada (maybe another festival) and then see how I feel. Part of me wants to come straight home; there are things and people I miss terribly. One of them is you.

Much love,

Rebecca

Beer Review #1

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BUD LIGHT
Price: $5.99 for a six pack
The website says: "A blend of two and six row malt and cereal grains give Bud Light its clean, crisp, smooth taste."
Tastes like: Cat piss and broken dreams.
Drink it when: You leave your parents' basement and move into a frat house.

An art outing in the Berkshires

Dear Sarah Jane,

Oh my lord, you are too funny. A crocheted skirt? A Jane Eyre dream? Obsessive cleaning? I miss you.

Today I was wearing a little headscarf a la Hilda Ogden, plus my mint coloured t-shirt with the myopic rabbit that I got in Sydney and black short shorts.

It was my day off so we went on a mission to a really amazing art gallery about 45 minutes from here. It's called MASS MoCA and it is housed in an old New England style brick factory. It is enormous, so most of the work they show there is large scale installation. I thought of you when I saw the piece to your left. It was piles and piles of rope handknotted by a single artist. We had this whole discussion with the tour guide about how she doesn't use knitting implements when she creates her work (just her bare hands grrrr), and she doesn't like to use words like crochet and knitting when she's talking about her stuff because of the whole feminine connotations thing. I'd love to know what you think of that.

I also saw some work that was kind of a cross between Bridget Riley and Simon Morris. It made me a wee bit queasy actually. I had a nap in the car on the ride home after that, just like a six year old. All tuckered out.

For my next post, I'll be writing the first of a series of American beer reviews for you. Get your virtual thirst on, baby.

Much love,

Rebecca xxxxxxxx

An excerpt from 'Does God Love You?'; religious propaganda from the heart of Massachusetts

Q-1. I sometimes wonder if God loves me. If he is a loving God, why is there so much suffering in the world?

A. In His book called the Bible, God explains that our sins are the cause for all the suffering and sorrow. It is true that God reveals His love to the whole world, as we read in one of the most quoted verses in the Bible:

For God so loved the world that He gave his only Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. (John 3:16)

Q-2. But I am not wicked. I am a decent, moral person. Surely the good I have done in my life far outweighs whatever bad I have done. How can these verses apply to me?

A. By God's standard of righteousness, even the most moral person is looked upon by God as a desperate sinner who deserves God's wrath. The Bible teaches that no one is good enough in himself to go to Heaven. On the contrary, we are all sinners, and we are all guilty before God.

Virtual Whiskey With You

Sarah Jane! There's no shame in quitting. Just because you set up that derby league doesn't mean you have to do it forever. Can you imagine being a ninety year old jammer? I didn't think so. It was going to have its day sometime, and today is that day. I salute you.

In other news, I have a bee-sting on my foot.
It's been two days now and aforementioned extremity is still enormously swollen and of cartoon proportions. I couldn't get my strappy sandals on this morning. I put on ballet flats instead and by lunchtime had the foot version of muffin-top. Yeah, laugh it up. Alright. The heat probably doesn't help matters. It's that sort of heat where you come out of air conditioning and it hits you like a snuggie being tied around your whole body.

As I can't be there to drink a whiskey and celebrate your newfound spare time, I shall send you this instead. My boss played it just now and it tickled my fancy. Maybe it'll cheer you up?

xxx
All my love,

Rebecca

Take me out to the ballgame

My dearest Sarah Jane... I just had the best 4th July weekend.

An ex-workplace friend from NZ came to visit me (SO nice to hear those broad centralized vowel sounds, you have no idea), we had a golf cart parade, I gave some public tours, went to a baseball game in Pittsfield (with fireworks at the end), the laundromat and then to the Quarry to swim. And then had pizza and beer. The weather must have been around 35 degrees, it was perfect perfect perfect.

THE BEST:
On the actual 4th July, I popped into the office to check my emails, and my gorgeous ladies in marketing had decked out my workstation in red white and blue: American flags, fake red roses, bucket of M&Ms, red and blue plasticky things, marshmellow fluff, and tissue paper peeking out the drawers. My heart swelled up like a Disney movie.


THE WORST:
We’re at the baseball game and my friend Stav rolls up her flag and put it beside her bag for safekeeping. A morbidly obese local in a sweaty stars ‘n’ stripes t-shirt comes up to her.

Morbidly Obese Local: “Can I see your flag?”
Stav: “Uh sure thing”
-MOL walks back to his seat, taking Stav’s flag with him-
Stav: “Can I have my flag back?”
MOL: “You put the American flag on the ground. You stepped on it three times. You don’t deserve to have a flag.”
Stav: (stunned silence)
MOL: “Recite the pledge of allegiance and you can have your flag back.”


The more time I spend here in the States, the more I like it. Even the ugly sides. I wouldn’t stay here forever, but right now it’s just great. Yee-haw.

I Am a Fail Whale

Dear Sarah Jane,

Today was dumb. I booked a patron some tickets for the wrong night, had to placate a company manager, phone ran out of credit, folded hundreds of programmes for our community day, and realised my favourite dress is getting too tight (damn you, tatertots! I shake my fists at your tiny, buttery, potato-filled mmmmmmmmm.. No! No!).
I'm in a filthy mood so I thought I would write a list of irritating things. Some general, some specific; ALL irritating. Enjoy.

1). People Who Think I'm British
Having to explain several times a day to cute old Jewish ladies from Long Island that I'm not from London is starting to wear thin. "I know you're speakin' the Queen's English bud I jus' don' unnerstan' you."


2). The Way Gala Darling Stands in All Her Photos
Listen Gala, I quite like your blog. I like how you're sort of like a skinny pakeha Oprah, with your advice about embracing your flaws and baking cupcakes and shit. But please stop standing with your legs all turned in like a manga character with polio. It's irritating. Sorry.


3). Massachusetts Mosquitoes the Size of Sparrows
I have a theory starting to emerge about this. Maybe there's a whole underground blackmarket in steroids out here in the rich-kids land of the Berkshires. Perfect abs and pecs to go with their perfect holiday homes and vast amounts of perfect leisuretime. The mosquitoes feed on a hot summers night and BAM! It's like a 1950s horror movie, like the Incredible Shrinking Man in reverse.


4). Fucking. Twilight. Saga.
The Oatmeal sums it up nicely.


5). Sleeping alone.
This is the dumbest thing of all, worse than Gala's polio legs. I miss that boy back home. Can you put him in a Fed-Ex parcel and ship him over here?


xxxxx
Rebecca

Calorific

Dear SJ,

So like I mentioned the other day on FB, I'm trying to plan my very first trip to Walmart. Inspired by the blog, I figured I should go all out and get a costume for the event. Any ideas or pictures gratefully accepted. Send me concept drawings and I'll try my best, but keep in mind I'm in the woods. Also, I'm planning to go to Hooters for dinner afterwards. So. Excited. Now if only I can find a mechanical bull, my life here will be complete.

You'll be pleased to know I'm eating breakfast every day up here in Massachusetts. I think it's the mountain air. Or the fact that a team of people get up and make it for me every day. Ha! Junior and Betty, you are my godsends. The food is good, but kind of fatty. And I'm eating just like... just like an equine animal of some description. Today I had waffles, scrambled eggs, three cups of coffee, a pulled pork sandwich, onion rings, brussell sprouts, two cups of peppermint tea, two chicken drumsticks, salad, cold noodle salad and a peanut butter cookie. That is such an obscene amount of food. I'm trying to balance it out by doing a couple of dance classes a week - they're free for all staff here so I'm been getting back into my leotard an' busting out some moooves. Yee-ah. Just hope I can still fit into said leotard by the end of summer.

The other day my colleague Ellen was teaching me how to use 'y'all' correctly.

Scenario One: You go into the lounge and your friends are sitting there eating pulled pork sandwiches and onion rings. You want some Reeses Peanut Butter Cups, and you don't want to have to drag yourself off to the dairy yourself. So you say, "Are y'all going to the store?". Translated, this means: "Are any of you going to the dairy?"

Scenario Two: You go into the lounge and your friends are sitting there eating waffles and drinking chocolate fribbles. You want a Whopper, but you want people to come with you so you can play songs on the jukebox together. Someone mentioned going to Burger King earlier, so you might be in luck. So you ask: "Are ALL y'all going to Burger King?". This means, "Are all of you going to get burgers together?".

It's a whole new vernacular.

Miss all y'all. xx

RTG

From Becket, Massachusetts...

My dear Sarah Jane,

So I'm here in a cabin in the woods of Massachusetts, at the oldest dance festival in America. I made it here in one piece, after flying for I guess nearly 30 hours arrrrrgh; Auckland - Tahiti - Los Angeles - New York. Sooo very jetlagged at first, but now I'm fully recovered and having a grand old time.

So far we've had training in:

- What to do if you see a bear
- How to tie a trucker's hitch knot
- How to pronounce 'Nina Ananiashvili'
- Why you don't wear heels on steep gravel pathways
- The proper etiquette at an icecream social


Seriously though, my work is going well, and the dance companies are about to start arriving any day now which is exciting. The weirdest culture shock so far? Almost all of the houses in the neighbouring towns have American flags hanging off them. Do they simply forget they're in America? Bizarre. New Zealanders aren't patriotic in that demonstrative kind of way (beyond wearing 'I Huffer NZ' hoodies and listening to far too much Trinity Roots et al) so I start giggling on car trips and my colleagues have no idea what's going on.

To tell the truth, I'm really excited about getting down to the nasty nasty Dr-Phil-watching, Dunkin'-Donuts-eating, mechanical-bull-riding seedy underbelly of this place. It seems too squeaky clean and outdoorsy to be real right now.

My next post will have pictures, so you'll see what I mean. It's pretty as a postcard here. Is it a facade? We shall see...

Oh god

My dearest Sarah Jane,

I loved drinking Argentinian tea with you at that funny little restaurant last night. Were you wiiiiide awake at 2am as well though?

Starting to freak out slightly about my plans to conquer the States/Canada. For a start, I have so much stuff to get rid of, my precious red convertible to sell, internship to hear back from (second interview this Wednesday!!), loose ends to tie up at work, money to save. All in just two months.

I'm just going to breathe through it, like an overcaffeinated yogi. Tssssssssssss.

My other method of dealing with this surreal and stressful situation is procrastination. Highly recommended.

So instead of emailing the designers back with a proper brief for our Outreach brochure, I've been looking at this: the joys of Toilet Paper Origami. It reminded me of this time when I was six years old and I had this crush on a boy in my class called David. I made him a flower out of pink toilet paper but then chickened out of giving it to him. In high school, David grew so much body hair people started callling him Yak. Now he's married. I don't think his wife calls him Yak.

Yours,

Rebecca

Passport Agony

My dearest Sarah Jane,

My plans to leave the country soon have got me thinking about my passport sitch. To explain briefly (and because I would never voluntarily SHOW you my passport for shame for shame for shame), I got my passport renewed last winter before I went to Malololailai. My skin was a fetching shade of Colgate White, my hair needed a dye and my eyes were bleary from hangover. I tried to give a nonchalant smile without grinning away like a fool. The result was of course a dreadful grimace and the weird fluro lighting in the chemist made me look like I was suffering from jaundice.

Anyhoo, I was greatly cheered up when I saw this site. Yes, even literary geniuses and Hollywood celebrities get saddled with unflattering passport photos. My favourite is e. e. cummings; looks like a right psycho.

Enjoy!