Since there are people still reading this, for whatever reason, I just want to direct you to my new blog:
In my true fashion, I haven’t updated it in a little while. But it won’t always be like that, school’s just been super stressful. Thanks for reading!
Hello again. In lieu of just disappearing off the face of the earth I wanted to take a moment and say thank you for reading all of this nonsense. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate the fact that you did. It made the experience that much better, knowing that I was not only writing for myself but for a select few who were interested in what it was I was doing. I hope you’ll all still be around the next time I decide to dive head first into another adventure (which will probably be relatively soon).
Until then, I’ve decided to start a separate blog to document my journey through my last couple years of film school. I figure it’ll be nice to have as a reminder of what I had to go through and what it was I learned at the very beginning (regardless of where I end up at the very end). The fact that I tried is satisfying enough in itself. So, that said I’d love it if you did read, but of course I’m not forcing you 
I’ll let everyone know when it starts.
Thanks again. Love to all.
Samantha
I apologize for falling silent these past few weeks. Suddenly I felt that writing about everything seemed a lot less important. I don’t want to sum up all that I’ve done since I last wrote because whatever I could say about it would pale in comparison to what actually happened. Instead I’d rather talk about the present, that’s what counts anyway.
The following statement is obvious: I am not the same person I was when I left Chicago. But what makes it strange is being conscious of the changes. Normally it’s too hard to tell, you’re never away from yourself long enough to know the difference. But sometimes, like now, you can sense a change. In the way you carry yourself, the way you interact with strangers, the way you see yourself and your place in the world, even the way you think. My patience levels are almost monk-like in proportion. Time is not the enemy, it just is. I am thrilled to finally return to the states, but just as I take a piece of New Zealand with me, so do I leave a piece of myself behind. I have been truly blessed while on this journey. The people I’ve met, friendships forged, chances taken, chances not taken. I am forever altered, and all the happier for it.
In the beginning, I disliked the process of making friends with people I’d probably never see again. What was the point? But now I realize how important those transactions are. I believe that we are sustained solely on what we give of ourselves to others and receive in turn. Roz, Sam, Anna, Ben + Andrea, Chris + Jenny, Avery…there’s a good chance our paths will never cross again. But for those fleeting moments where our universes overlapped, and we shared bits of our lives, everything was perfect. These moments were the most nourishing and the most enjoyable out of anything else I think I’ve experienced this entire trip. That’s what life is for, those exchanges, nothing else. There isn’t much point to whatever this is unless you devote yourself to connecting with other human beings. The rest of it’s pretty silly when you think about it. Don George, the editor of a lovely little book titled The Kindness of Strangers, said in his forward the following:
“If we live every day, whether at home or away, with kindness, if we approach the world with a sense of wonder and curiosity and appreciation, if we encounter others with respect and openness, if we see our human differences as enriching rather than threatening, we will go a long way toward creating a world graced, interlaced, with peace and opportunity…we are each other’s greatest gift. The kindness of strangers is ours to give and to take; we shape the world with each embrace.”
Certainly words to live by. I suggest you all give it a shot.
Wednesday night was quite possibly one of the greatest I’ve had in a long time. Not only did I get to spend an evening listening to Guillermo del Toro talk for a couple hours (he’s like a giant Mexican teddy bear) but Roz gave me the most incredible gift. It’s a traditional Maori symbol carved out of jade. It’s a bit of a faux pas to buy one for yourself because they’re supposed to be gifted, that’s part of the tradition. The one she chose for me is called a Manaia, it symbolizes a spiritual guardian that protects the wearer from evil. Traditionally it has the head of a bird, the body of a man, and the tail of a fish creating the balance of sky, earth, and sea. I am so profoundly touched by this gesture I’m at a loss for what to say. No one except a rare few have ever given me something so precious and Roz barely even knows me. I am flabbergasted to say the least. And to add to the list of amazing things: I found out earlier today that a film I did the camera work on won the Grand Jury Prize at the Take 1 Film Fest at school. Even though I’m really angry at Columbia right now for once again preventing me from registering on time, this made me so insanely happy I could hardly contain my glee/flailing all day. Now I can’t wait to get back and start working on stuff again (though I’m sure I’ll be eating my words about two weeks into the semester).
I bungled my scheduling again this weekend. I missed a day in the midst of making all my bookings and left myself without a place to stay. So instead of doing the reasonable thing and paying for another night here in Picton, I’m spending one night in a hostel in Christchurch and then three nights with a couch surfer. Which is a damn shame because the hostel I’m in at the moment is really wonderful. It may be overrun with Germans, as usual, but they’re really lovely Germans. Particularly Lena. She’s really bummed I won’t be here (me too) but I told her I’d come see her on the North island on my way back. We’ve only just met, but you know those people where you can tell just by looking at them that you’ll be great friends? Lena’s like that. There have been so many like her, it makes me sad to know that I’ll probably never see most of them ever again. But who knows? Who am I to finalize things that are out of my hands? I dare the universe to prove me wrong.
I genuinely love the way being drunk makes me feel. Not the kind of drunk where you can’t remember who you were with, let alone what you did, but the kind where your head feels like it’s full of rabbit fur or clouds or something equally evocative of fluffiness and you can’t stop smiling. That’s why I like alcohol. I don’t drink very often but I thoroughly enjoy it when I do. Last night I spent some time with new friends. New friends who plied me with gin and tonics and made me lovely compilations of New Zealand music. Friends who want to see me again when I come back through Wellington and want to swap albums on the internet when I get home. Experiences like this make traveling incredibly difficult. My time in Wellington has been super nourishing and humongously wonderful, full of people and places I won’t soon forget. These past two weeks are the perfect example of those moments when you realize it was all worth it, just for this. This little slice of heaven, where you tasted the possibility of a life that is so different from your own and yet so achingly familiar. Moments like these are what make life so exciting and provide you with the bone-deep satisfaction of having acquired some secret knowledge of real happiness. You know, every night that I’m out and I can see the sky I always wish upon the first star my eyes land on (obscenely cheesy, but no less true). And do you know what I wish for every single time? For everyone I’ve ever known to be happy and healthy and content. I stopped wishing on silly things for myself because it made me feel kind of like an idiot (especially when it was something I had within my power to change if I really wanted to). But I prefer turning my thoughts to all of you instead. It truly brings me joy to know there are so many individuals out there who care about me, I feel it’s only fair to send the good karma back in spades. There’s not a single person I’ve met who hasn’t left their own unique imprint on my life. Some are more like smudges, faint and fading. Others are crisp, clear, permanent, engraved in stone. If you wanted to visualize it, finger painting comes to mind. Definitely finger painting. My life is a giant canvas covered in the vibrant, grubby prints of the hands that have shaped me. That’s really cool.
I have to say it’s been really strange to have spent so much time in two countries that have such strong communities of native peoples. Particularly their influence on language. Here in NZ the Maori language is used everywhere. In Australia it depended where you were, some cities like Darwin it was more apparent. Though the relationship between the Maori and everyone else here in NZ is a hell of a lot more positive than the Aboriginal peoples and Australia. And I feel like in the states there aren’t even enough American Indians left to have any kind of relationship with. I guess NZ’s so small it’s easier to achieve cohabitation happily. Still, I wish things were different at home. I’m going to miss the presence of such a strong culture, especially such a fascinating one.
Ok, I’m in a bit of a quandary. I’m staying with an older married couple at the moment, Kevin’s a film location scout, that’s why I chose them. Kevin told me he’s going to Auckland to work on a made for TV movie about volcanoes erupting or some shit, and he said that when I was back up there he could get me in as a paid extra. Now, you might think this is a no-brainer, but in order to get to Auckland to do this I have to sacrifice going to a few places on the North island. And I have to find somewhere to stay. Originally I was just going to take the bus straight to the airport to make my life infinitely easier, but now I’m not so sure the easier way is worth giving up this opportunity. What do you think I should do?
On Friday I finally went on a Lord of the Rings tour here in Wellington. It ended up being kind of amazing because it was only me, a girl from Wales named Cath, and our tour guide Randall. And since we saved time by not having to take pictures of eight other people doing the same exact thing, Randall took us to see a few locations the tour didn’t normally go to. Like the incredible mini-golf course run by a friend of his. He’s a metal sculptor so the entire place was covered in weird and interesting art, lots of found object stuff, totally sweet. It kind of reminded me of some post-apocalyptic playground. We didn’t get to play any golf though, which made me sad. Here’s a rundown of all the locations we went to: Rivendell, Isengard, Helm’s Deep, Minas Tirith, just outside Hobbiton and the Shire, some locations that are only in the extended editions (I’ll spare you), and a couple others I don’t recall at the present. My favorites were Rivendell and Isengard, easily. I mean we saw a lot of cool stuff (Peter Jackson’s house, Sam Neill’s house was a bonus, the Weta Cave, Stone Street Studios) but those two were the most beautiful and the most fun. At the national park where Rivendell was shot there’s this big swing bridge suspended over the Hutt River a la Indiana Jones. It was really bouncy too, which made it that much better. Then there’s the Legolas Tree, haha, where he stood to pose for some photos:
They’ve put a platform in there so you can stand on it and try your hand at his far-away look. Randall even provided us with some props: a small cloak, elf ears, and a replica of Sting (Frodo’s sword). We had a blast taking some pretty amusing photos. Will be posted at some point, when Cath gets back to Wales. Parts of Isengard were filmed at this neighborhood park that was quite lovely. The gardens that Gandalf and Saruman walk through are insanely gorgeous now. Randall also keeps two large wooden walking sticks stashed in the bushes for when he brings us nerds around, so Cath and I, or should I say Gandalf and myself, took our places and posed for some photos. I asked if Randall would take a picture of me pretending to beat the crap out of Gandalf, so there’s an epic shot of me with the staff raised above my head in a fierce battle pose. As you can see, we had a pretty fantastic time. I even got a free pair of Vulcan ears elf ears.
Then Saturday was my new friend Sam’s birthday. Roz and her boyfriend Lorenzo met me for a few drinks beforehand, then we popped over to Sam’s flat for the party and of course, more drinking. It started off pretty slow but picked up within an hour or so. I made a few more new friends that night, even managed to find another film buff which was super delightful. At about midnight, the lot of us took to the streets in a swarm of giddy bodies and dulled mental faculties. The first two bars we tried to get into were either charging too much at the door or there was a private party. We ended up at Mighty Mighty, a “mighty” cool place with mostly red lighting. We danced our hearts out for a solid forty-five minutes and then a band came on so I left. It was late anyway, and since the bus had stopped running ages before that I took a cab.
All in all I’d say that was a damn good weekend, wouldn’t you?
My days are bleeding into one another almost seamlessly. I can’t remember which things occurred on what day, only the time of day it was when it happened. Wellington is working its magic on me but I won’t be ensnared (cities have a way of getting under you skin even when you’re not so sure you want it to, I’ve been experiencing that a lot). Every day the city’s smallness becomes more and more apparent, particularly when no longer in the company of Roz and her friends. When I’m being hosted, it’s easier to pretend that I live there than when I’m staying in a hostel. I like hostels but they can be bubble-like, even in the heart of a city. You are your own keeper and it’s surprisingly easy to let the day slip through your fingers when there isn’t someone to spur you into action. And it’s not that I wouldn’t go out and do a bunch of shit but few things are free these days. Mostly it comes down to walking around, which I happen to enjoy, but it gets old after a while. I knew I would say this eventually: I wish I’d saved more money at the start of my trip in order to allow myself more opportunities down here. I am swiftly coming to the realization that I will very soon be broke. It’s not something I’m looking forward to. More importantly I’m trying not to let it effect my last five weeks here in New Zealand. There are some activities I don’t think I’ll be able to do anymore (i.e. skydiving). But I’m okay with that I think. When, not if, I come back I know exactly what I’d do and where I’d go. NZv2.0 is much more streamlined than NZv1.0, naturally.
Yesterday I met with another friend from high school, Jordan Hochenbaum. He’s already starting his masters, well, PhD actually. Something about music tech and electronic stuff that sounded really cool when he told me about it but went right over my head. He’s super involved though, teaching some classes and getting neat jobs. It’s really nice to know others have their shit together and are out there doing what they love. Not that I’m worried for myself or whatever, I’m interested in (and kind of good at) so many different things I think I’ve got my bases covered. I love meeting up with old high school buddies though, it’s like seeing ghosts. You can see shadows of their younger selves but when you really scrutinize their features you see a completely different person. It’s both eerie and awesome. Like when you stare at someone’s face long enough you cease seeing the picture as a whole and begin to reveal their real face. I’m sure I sound crazy but you should try it (preferably not with a stranger, but hey, whatever floats your boat). I always hated it, but at the beginning of my freshman year in high school we did blind-contour portraits on the first day of art class. I mean I get why it’s a good exercise and a good way to “break the ice” but it was also one of the most awkward experiences of my entire existence. Yeah, sure, let’s get a bunch of mortified thirteen year olds and have them stare at each other for forty minutes during the first class of their first day of high school. That shit marks you for life, as I just demonstrated by rambling about it for the past five minutes. Anyway, I’m glad we got on so well (we talked for more than an hour) and we’re going to get dinner at some point before I leave.
Do you ever feel like an alternate version of yourself when you talk to someone? Almost an exaggerated projection of what you’re like in your own head? I feel like that a lot. I wouldn’t say my personality changes depending on who I’m talking to (I’ve been friends with people like that, it’s annoying as all hell), it’s more like different facets of my character become dominant or are brought out by others. For instance, I’m normally quite introverted. But put me in a room with the right mix of people and I morph into miss social butterfly of the year. Or I’m more animated around some and more sedate around others. I dunno, I think it’s kind of fascinating how much we actually influence each other without realizing it. Like we’re all tasty vegetables simmering in the frying pan of life (I’m so sorry), some flavors mesh better than others.
Side note: I go on a Lord of the Rings tour tomorrow morning, hooray! I’ll let you know if I spot any goblins.
I apologize for not updating more but I honestly just haven’t felt much like writing. All is well though, My last few days at the hostel in New Plymouth were great, everyone was much more relaxed (even the Germans) and we all kind of hung out every day. Now I’m in Wellington. I was staying with the loveliest girl on the planet, but she could only help me out for so long. My host from Eugene, OR knows Roz from when they were in Spain together. He put me in touch with her and that was pretty much it. In the time we spent together I have discovered that we are almost ridiculously compatible. She’s a lover of really awful movies like Troll 2 and Night of the Bloody Apes. We click on that higher level of mutual nerdiness. On Friday night we went to three different bars: Happy’s, Watusi (my new favorite place. Roz’s friend Sam DJ’d there for an hour or so, it was dance party bliss), and The Library. Wellington has already left a really fantastic impression. I’m glad I’m spending two weeks here. Also, the universe has smiled upon me again and next I get to go see Guillermo del Toro talk at the Paramount Theater. The ticket was a little pricey but I didn’t want the opportunity to pass me by. I have to think of some questions to ask, so if you’ve got any send ‘em my way.
Sunday I watched a bunch of people do Capoeira (think of it as a cross between Brazilian break-dancing and martial arts), which was super mesmerizing. The group formed a ring around whoever was in the middle and they were in constant, fluid motion. Always honed in on their partner’s movements, anticipating what they’ll do next, totally in tune with one another. It’s really quite impressive when done well. The music is excellent too, rhythmic and repetitive and beautiful. I stayed for about an hour, taking heaps of photo and video, letting the sun soak into my skin. Then I went to the City Gallery to see work by Yayoi Kusama, a.k.a. The Japanese Dot Lady. The entire building was covered in rainbow polka-dots on the outside, which would be awesome enough, but she creates these insane environments that are like Alice in Wonderland on acid. My favorite was this tiny mirrored room that was lit only by multicolored lights hanging all around you from the ceiling. You stand on this little platform in the middle because the rest of the floor is covered in water in order to reflect the lights. It was like this infinite universe, I was suspended in space and time. I never wanted to leave. Truly awesome. I love more than anything the art that creates a complete environment, something that can swallow you whole and transport you to another emotional plane. Dan Flavin does that for me, Olafur Eliasson and James Turrell too. Light is such an incredible thing, more powerful and influential than I think we realize.
Making my father laugh has got to be one of my favorite things in the entire universe. Noting makes me happier than hearing one of his deep, raspy chuckles and knowing I was the reason for its existence. I called him yesterday from the supermarket with a question about cooking (he’s the go to guy for that kind of thing. well, most things really. that’s what dads are for) and I ended up telling him about my hostel and how Australia and New Zealand are infested with Germans. I said I was surprised there were any Germans left in Germany at this point. That’s what got him. I consider it a good day if I can make dad laugh. I wish the opportunity presented itself more often.
There’s something about the ocean, like looking up at the stars, that makes me feel small. It’s just so big and endless and vast and…big. It never ceases to amaze me. I like feeling that way. I hope I never stop feeling that way.
The other night another German kid (I told you) came to the hostel. I had zero expectations considering the rest of Team Germany had yet to really speak more than a few words to me. But lo and behold come dinnertime Goesta was all for talking. A lot of talking. We were in some state of conversation for more than three hours. He’s here for nine months to work, WWOOF, and travel. And learn to be more proficient in English, so I suppose that’s another reason to hang out with me instead of the others. Either way I was just happy to spend time with another human being. It didn’t hurt that he was totally adorable (in that puppy dog sort of way). Each time he smiled his eyes would crinkle at the corners and I was done for. Sweet guy, very funny (cheeky, more like it). I enjoyed myself very much. He left yesterday morning with another German guy to go work on a farm somewhere in the area. But he said he’d add me on Facebook, which obviously means it was meant to be. Sigh.
Tonight there may be a hostel-wide BBQ down by the beach so I hope it doesn’t rain again and spoil our fun. I like this place, It’s exciting.
Leaving Paihia, I rose with the sun and dragged my crippled ass to the center of town where the bus was waiting. Six hours of not moving did my leg good, though the rest of me was a bit worse for wear. I was only in Hamilton for one night, which is probably for the better, because even though it’s the fourth largest city in New Zealand it was still too big. But it’s also a college town, which has its advantages as well. When I made my rounds of the local cinemas I found out that every Friday in October they would be screening Rocky Horror Picture Show. And guess what day I happened to be there? That’s right. Friday. I consider myself blessed to have finally been in the right place at the right damn time. Apparently this is exactly what I needed.
And since it was a Friday I anticipated a larger crowd, however it was mostly just me, seven other random people , and a really enthusiastic girl who sat in the front. She was the only one dedicated enough to actually recite all the audience participation lines throughout the entire movie. I recited the ones I knew in my head but sang along to all the songs (and did not do the Time Warp, but kind of wanted to). With every viewing of RHPS I am always startled by how completely sexy Tim Curry is. Every time he tosses that cape aside and renders us speechless by unleashing all his awesome, transvestite glory my brain is instantly turned to mush. The only thought I can process after that is how much I’d like to bone him. Seriously.
Today I hopped on another bus, this time to New Plymouth which is a small seaside town with a bunch of art galleries and some supposedly amazing walks. I though it would feel a bit more New England-y, but I think I was projecting too much. Nothing can really emulate the real thing anyway, especially since I lived there for so long. Not that New Plymouth is a disappointment or anything, it’s quite beautiful and quaint in its own way. My hostel is essentially just a large, airy house a few blocks from the water. There are no bunks (thank you thank you thank you) and the lounge room table is painted like a giant chess board. Now if only I had someone to play with…
