eclectica; kaitistyles_

graceyyy

to those who asked;

yes, this is my dad. bless his cotton socks!

i made it for mother’s day. she approved.

I can currently hear some women talking about “the ranga gene”. At first I thought they were talking about the small percentage of people who have naturally orange hair. It intrigued me that this “gen Y” invented insult, was now being thrown around by middle aged women, not in a derogatory way, but as a description.

I then realised that they’re not, in fact, referring to the ranga child who is with them, they are actually talking about me – the girl in the corner with the laptop who has ridiculously bright, dyed red hair. Their attempts at subtly are pathetic, but I’m used to attracting a bit of attention and I’m finding their conversation enthralling.

They’re not talking about “the ranga gene” in the sense that one parent must have red hair in order for a child to have red hair. They are talking about “the ranga gene” as someone who is attracted to red hair; the people who appreciate natural rangas, the people who attempt to dye their hair orange, or, in this case, the people who hyperbolise the idea of being a ranga; i.e. me.

It got me to thinking; can this idea of “the ranga gene” be extended to other aspects of life? Can we use the idea of “the ranga gene” to refer to the people whose favourite Beatle is Ringo; the people who like “Champagne Supernova” more than “Wonderwall”?

 I’d like to think that “the ranga gene” refers to anyone who loves something that no one else does. It refers to the people who appreciate the beauty in nothing. It refers to the people who like things that are a bit unusual and a bit undiscovered.

“The ranga gene” is becoming more common and less common at the same time. Indie is becoming “hip.” Punk is becoming less “screw the system” and more “do I look hot?” Alternative is becoming mainstream. Among all this, though, “the ranga gene” is thriving.

Occasionally you come across a person who is so eclectic that you can’t find a label for them. These are the ones who have got “the ranga gene”. These are the ones who will always be different, even when the styles which were once considered “alternative” are blending into every other trend. These are the ones who are unique because they were born that way – not because they’re trying to stand out.

I posted some new things. Tell me how you feel about it.

Dear you.

I miss you. I miss sending you links to things that noone would understand the way you did. I mean, my friends all have a similiar sense of humour and know to laugh at the things I send them. But the in-jokes with you are endless and the things I find are all related to our in-jokes and my other friends just don’t get it the way you got it. Obviously when I say that people are lookin like a fool with their pants on the ground, they think it’s hilarious, but it’s just not the same.

It’s not the same when I hug other boys. It’s nice that they care about me enough to embrace me, but I don’t feel the same warmth with them as I have with you since the first time we hugged. I feel self-conscious and uncomfortable and like they’re just another person. Every hug is just another person. Of course there are people who are more special, more important than others, for example, my mother, but it just doesn’t compare to the way you would kiss me and then not really know whether to hug me or not, and then awkwardly semi let go, then draw me back in for epic cuddles. Forehead kisses from Mum, although I’ve always thought they were special, are nothing compared to the forehead kisses from you. There’s this spark that runs through my entire body everytime your lips touch my forehead.

When people tell me I’m pretty or beautiful or intelligent or amazing, it feels nice, but it’s nothing compared to what I felt when you said any of those things. Although rare, the compliments you gave me came in a package deal with goosebumps all over my body. Not in a creepy “I just ran my nails along a chalkboard” way, in an amazing “I feel so special right now that I can’t even respond” way.

The intense discomfort I used to feel when you touched my tummy was nothing compared to the way I felt when I realised you weren’t gonna judge me. It had nothing on the way I felt when I realised I could be my whole self with you, and that wasn’t going to change the way you felt about me. It was nothing compared to the way I felt when I realised how much you didn’t care about the superficial stuff.

I’m gonna miss driving past the ADI site and having it pointed out. Or the convenience of the path across the road from it. I miss talking bogan to you and I miss the excitement I got when I realised it was you on the phone. I miss coming online simply to see if you were around just for a quick chat. I miss knowing you exist in my life.

I don’t know if I want you back, but I want something that fills this void. Right now I feel like you’re the only puzzle piece that fits it, but maybe I’m meant to find a bigger piece and simply cover the hole rather than fill it. Maybe it’s impossible for you to be with me. Maybe I’m okay with that and am yet to realise it.

All I know is that, you’re the nicest thing I’ve ever seen. All I know is that I miss you…probably more than anyone ever should.

Love Kaiti xx

If you’re reading this, you should probably follow that. misskaiti is my most intense thoughts, rants, lessons. suffokaitid is the day to day stuff; much shorter posts, much easier to read. Or if you just want pictures that I like, check out intoxikaitid.tumblr.com.

For most of my life, I’ve been one of those people who finds the silver lining of every dark cloud, sticks up for people who probably don’t deserve it and tries to maintain a positive attitude at all times. When I can’t make something into a positive or when I get let down by people, sometimes I get a little bit frustrated, but I just accept that everything passes and let it go.

However, there has been some things going on in the past few weeks which completely infuriate me and make me want to punch people. I’ve never hit anyone in my life and I am completely horrified by the thought of violence, but there are a couple of things which absolutely make my blood boil.

The main thing is disrespectful people. People with poor manners, I can almost handle. People who gossip occasionally, I can deal with. People who completely lack respect for others, however, make me want to break things.

The current examples in my life include chauvinistic men, ungrateful people and people who discriminate deliberately.

In the past week, I’ve had arguments screaming matches about Aboriginal entitlements, the way tips are split at my work and the fact that gender isn’t a determining factor in who should do which jobs at a restaurant. I’ve also found out and overheard some horribly derogatory things being said by people who I would consider friends, and have had some fairly offensive things said to my face.

Aboriginal matters don’t particularly phase me. I can accept that some people will just never understand or care, and that’s not my problem. I’m fine with it. However, when people ask me questions about it and then reject everything I say, it stresses me out a bit. It’s not often that I argue about it, but when I do, it’s usually one of those arguments that make people want to hold you back, just so you don’t punch the other person. I had one of these arguments, which ended in me walking away from it - another rare occurrence. It’s not that I hate people being racist, it’s that I hate people discriminating against something that they’re completely uneducated about [ironically, lack of education is usually the main for hating it].

As someone who constantly tries to educate people or open their minds, I find it inexpressibly frustrating when people are set in their ways and ignorant to any extra information. I know why Christian Arabs and Muslim Arabs hating each other. I know why North Korea and South Korea hating each other. I know why white Australian’s hating Aborigines. The hatred pretty much comes down to one of two things - misunderstanding the others, or feeling the need to put the blame on others. Ignorance, basically.

Ignorance can be your new best friend, but it is one of those things that is bliss, only if used with caution. There are some things which can and probably should be ignored. These include bitching, rumours and Nickelback. Other things which shouldn’t be ignored include domestic violence, sexual harrassment/assault, depression and red lights.

Tonight I heard something which I’m trying to fit into one of the above categories, but I can’t choose where it belongs. On one hand, it’s gossip among men, and boys will be boys. On the other hand, it’s extremely derogatory towards my friend and was said in the presence of another friend [who happens to be female], and it would be nice to think the boys I work with were slightly decent.

I was shocked and appalled when I realised there were men out there who had such a poor attitude towards women, and even more offended that they were people who I had considered to be friends, and even my brother. It’s not even worth going into detail, but these boys have such little respect for people. It makes me want to punch things.

The most significant argument that has been occurring recently is about tips. My view is that tips are an absolute bonus; a gift from the customers to thank us for great service. It’s fair that we split the tips evenly, as everyone contributes in some way to providing effective and efficient service. Our managers don’t have to pass on the tips to their staff. They can take it as a compliment for the business and pocket it. Ultimately, as a gift, it’s something that should not be discussed, measured or compared.

For some reason, the boys I work with seem to think it’s an entitlement. They think the tips should be measured and divided depending on who’s tables tip the most. They also make a point of discussing and comparing the tips. “Oh well that person didn’t do a great job tonight but my table tipped $50, why should I share?” and silly things like that. I pointed out that every single one of us contributes. Noone cleaning cutlery = no table setting = no seating people = no serving people = no tips. Noone pouring drinks = no beverage = thirsty customer = displeased customer = no tips. Everyone contributes in some way, thus everyone deserves a share in the “gift” from the customers.

As I mentioned, tips are a bonus. We get paid enough in Australia to be able to live on our wages, and if not, we are in the wrong profession. We shouldn’t be depending on tips for anything other than an extra coffee or to throw into our moneybox. Some nights we make big bucks, sometimes we make none. It’s too much of a gamble to rely on tips for life.

Personally, I would rather someone seek out my manager and tell them how fantastic I am, than leave a few dollars in a jar. While it’s nice to be acknowledged with cash, sometimes the compliment doesn’t make it to me or my boss, and some of us would probably assume the tip is simply a share in what the other tables have tipped. What would be perfect, is if a customer told my boss I was fabulous, handed him a $100 bill and said “this is for the tip jar.” Sadly, it’s usually either/or.

The morals of the story?

1. Kaiti’s having a mangry* night.
2. Discrimination is pointless and mean.
3. Boys can be complete pigs at times^ and noone has to tolerate it.
4. It’s bad manners to measure or compare gifts; tips included.
5. Tips are a lovely compliment but the best compliment is given using words.

*Mangry - feeling or showing anger to the point of almost becoming a man.
^Boys aren’t all pigs. I know some fairly flawless ones and I acknowledge that frequently.

So it’s been a while. Quite a while. I’ve been busy, then in the wrong frame of mind, then busy, then in the wrong frame of mind, then busy, and now I’m ready to write. So much has been happening; from New Years to gigs, my bestfriend’s birthday to a leadership camp, Big Day Out and a super fun awesome party night. I would blog about the whole lot, but it would end up taking fifteen billion years and there’s no way I could do the scale of awesomeness any justice in writing. Instead, I’m going to write about the amazing time I had at camp and the things I learnt.

It all began when my mum’s friend Elizabeth rang me and asked if I’d be interested in going on a Rotary camp. My thoughts? Sounds like a great opportunity, sounds like it would be a good thing to put on my resume, sounds like I won’t know anyone and it’ll be complete torture. Thanks but no thanks Mrs French.

Mum says “well fine then, don’t do it!” in that tone she uses when she’s disappointed or frustrated with me. It’s reverse psychology and it works every time.

So I end up going to this camp (RYLA), not sure of what’s in store, but expecting to be bored through most of it, and expecting to miss home and my friends and my job and my life. Though I had these expectations, I decided to “fake it till I make it” with a positive attitude.

Before I left, I hated the idea of it and was completely freaked out. Upon my return, I hated the idea of leaving and missed everyone immediately.

This series of seminars and activities [there was sooo much space for activities!], was the highlight of my life. From leadership qualities, to financial management, public speaking and dealing with the media, to goal setting, getting a job, mental & physical health, etiquette and team building; it seemed as though every topic imaginable was covered. Not just covered, but done extremely well.

Never before had I been to something where I enjoyed every single moment. Especially something I didn’t want to be at in the first place!

What did I learn? A hellovalot! The things that are standing out to me right at this moment are the following;

I’m a green disc kinda girl. Imagine you have a collection of cd’s; one for every day of your life. Every morning you wake up and have to select a cd to play. There are red discs, representing the really bad days, orange discs for the average days and green discs for the amazing days.

By choosing a colour, you’re choosing your attitude, which will determine how your day pans out.

Not taking every single opportunity presented to you is silly. Who knows when you’re going to be in a car accident or be abducted by aliens? It’s so important to follow that cliche of “living life to the fullest”. Live like it’s your last day. Be a Yes Man. Do everything you’re capable of. Try everything you don’t think you’re capable of. Failure is way more fun than regret.

Waiting for your turn to talk is not listening. How often do you have a conversation with someone, think of something to say and then wait for them to stop talking so you can say it? A fair bit, right? How often does it become irrelevant after a couple of minutes and how often could it have gone without saying? Pretty much all the time, right? Not only is focussing on what the other person is saying good manners, but they notice, and it makes them feel good - even if it’s only subconsciously. It makes them feel more comfortable, and often it makes them open up to you a lot more.

The platinum rule; it’s not “do unto others as you would have them do unto you”, but “do unto others as they would like to be done unto.” Be selfless. Love unconditionally. Accept people for what they are and treat them how they would enjoy being treated. How you treat others says everything about your character and nothing about theirs.

Everyone’s story is unique and that’s what makes it amazing. If everyone was the same, it’d be boring. Everyone has their own battles and their own triumphs, and while society may say some are better or worse than others, noone really has the right to make that judgement. It’s important that we’re conscious of how people feel about the stories they share, rather than comparing their stories to something that has happened to you or a friend. I mean, I know an African guy who joined the army at age 13, has a prosthetic arm and is one of the happiest people I know. He also managed to rockclimb and abseil; that’s dedication, right? I bet you have a story that can beat it, but honestly, who cares?

“That’s what she said” calls can be applied to any situation. Feel free to use them. Actually, I fully encourage you to say ‘that’s what she said’ as often as possible. It doesn’t get old. And it makes me smile every single time.

You can fall in love in just seven days. I fell in love with 57 people while I was away. We spent around 160hrs together which is pretty much the equivalent of a six month friendship. It’s quite amazing how intense friendships can be after only a week. But when you look at it in terms of hours, as well as the things we were learning [especially the team work things and the mental health stuff], it would’ve been ridiculous if we didn’t bond so quickly. The support we all showed towards one another was absolutely incredible and completely unexplainable.

So What did I achieve? A hellovalot!

I conquered my fear of public speaking [to the point where I was doing wayy too much of it].

I’m no longer self conscious [there are more important things to worry about].

I realised that I’m actually pretty good at sport [and the only reason I didn’t realise it before is because I was always too scared to try. I abseiled, rock climbed, played soccer, oztag, basketball, volleyball, tennis, etc, and enjoyed every second].

I met some of the most amazing people I’ve ever known [who will more than likely stay friends for life].

I experienced the fun that is polygamy [I had about six husbands going for the week].

It was reinforced that music is about the only thing that can shut me up [and is also the only thing that can make me completely relaxed].

And I reignited my zest for life. I was reminded that with everything, I need to feel the fear and do it anyway. I absolutely need to take every opportunity within my reach and I need to follow through with everything. I need to listen more, think more, talk less shit and be a better person in this world. I’m starting with the man in the mirror.

So I’ve fallen back in love with The Inheritors. I never fell out of love with them, as such, I just forgot how amazing they make me feel. Listening to their music is like seeing a rainbow or sucking a mango chupa chup. It’s like designing something in my head and being able to make it first go, or throwing together an outfit and looking amazing. It’s like waking up to a message from the person you adore, complimenting some tiny thing you do.

It’s incredibly rare for me to find bands that do this for me. Some bands have one or two songs that make me grin like the Cheshire Cat. However, there are only three bands for whom I smile through every single song.

Something With Numbers are the first. It’s not that they have “happy” music, it’s just the moments and people they are attached to which make me think and make me smile. They are such a talented band, with beautiful music and lyrics.

Slow Down Honey and The Inheritors are my equal seconds which is still pretty much first. Both of them have happy-rainbow-chupa chup-pretty-lovely music which makes me want to dance like a crazyhead.

I haven’t been to an Inheritors gig in forever. I used to go to every single gig, and then I started to be broke or working all the time or other shenanigans, and I missed out on a few and then they stopped playing gigs. I missed them at first, and then I got over it. I was spending all my time doing other things and didn’t forget they existed, but didn’t really spend as much time talking about them or listening to them. After seeing them last night, I remember why I loved them so much to begin with, and probably won’t be forgetting this again anytime soon.

We’re going back to the start where I’ll let them steal my heart. I’m back aboard the Inheri-train. You should join me. They really are amazing. Click here to make yourself smile, kaitistyles.

As always, my love for Slow Down Honey remains incredibly strong. Not only do they have amazingly danceable dirty pop music and lovely lyrics, they are seriously the nicest boys I’ve ever known. They are always up for a chat and really make an effort to be lovely. They treat me like more than just a fan. They seem genuinely interested in people, which is refreshing. I would pretty much marry them.

Seeing both Slow Down Honey and The Inheritors in one night pretty much caused me to go into cardiac arrest. I couldn’t stop smiling all night and was just in the best mood ever. It was one of the most perfect nights I’ve ever experienced.

Maybe it’s them, baby, that makes me feel like a millionaire. Absolutely. I love life.