And the apocalypse was upon us

Social Media. It seems so overrated. It actually seems like a complete waste of time. I guess I use it as a boredom buster. Late at night when I cant sleep and I realize I’ve gotten so lost in the world of YouTube that I’ve watched 30 minutes of trees in a time lapse, I turn to Facebook. For more mindless entertainment. When the rest of my esteemed classmates heard the tragic news that we had to go 24 hours without social media all hell broke lose. Its was like the apocalypse was among us and nobody had their zombie survival kit on hand. As for me, it didn’t really bother me. The world wasn’t crumbling. If Kim Kardashian got a boob job and I never lived to find out about it didn’t trouble me. I guess all and all I knew if it was a well-planned exercise I would probably survive without my cellular lifeline.

my weekend was full of shenanigans with my boyfriend

So I did plan, I picked the weekend. It may seem like a terrible idea to some. But I am far more than just a pretty face. I knew picking a weekend, when my boyfriend was right next to me and I could harass him, may mean my friends miss out on the riveting updates of me watching a million episodes of Castle or wandering around in fat pants, but really I wouldn’t struggle. I guess it says a lot about me that 24 hours without outside world contact doesn’t really bother me. I think it comes with being a bogan. Bogans seldom care about the outside world. We’re selfish and creatures of habit for the most part. Anyway. So I did it. I went 24 hours with my phone being as almost handy as a dead carrier pigeon.

And nothing happened.

Nothing. I missed a grand total of not a single thing I actually cared about. Yes I missed playing X-Box live while my boyfriend lay on the couch all day shooting zombies and gloating about his kill streaks. And yes my mum was incredibly frantic and I had received a grand total of four txt messages asking if I was alive. But really, nothing happened. And although I instantly caved when my 24 hours was finally over and checked my phone like a fat kid diving for the last piece of cake, I was left living with the realization that I had survived. That I hadn’t struggled. And that Social Media is for chumps.

The day i stumbled upon my heart.

I wanted to hate it. I did. And i hated so much about it without even walking through the door. I hated how many elderly people were there. I hate how my boyfriend wasn’t the one to take me when I’ve been asking for months and i went with my class. I hated the small children. The overpriced gift shop. The stairs. I hated it all. But i dragged my bogan self, bad attitude and all, into a hot crowded room and spent an hour waiting in a line, brooding the whole way. I thought the highlight of my day was going to be Ben elbowing my in the left tit. Really, it was going that well. Mondays are never my thing, nobody likes Mondays but the anger just radiates from within me and my temper is like a volcano ready to erupt.

But then something crazy happened. I walked through the door. Simple thing isn’t it? Spending my Monday morning in Te Papa at the Gallipoli exhibition isn’t my idea of a good time. Really I’d probably rather squirt lemon juice in my eyeballs or listen to Justin Bieber on repeat. Any self-respecting bogan wouldn’t be in 50 miles of the place. But i went. And you know, I didn’t hate it. Not even a little bit. I hated the crowds, the smell, and the overwhelming amount of feelings which made me feel like a vampire being threatened with a crucifix. But sometimes, not very often admittedly, maybe feelings are good for your soul.

Now. Give me a second to act completely unlike myself. Because even though I’m heartless something amazing happened. Something that i feel everyone should experience. The hush over the whole exhibition was the first thing i noticed. The deep seeded respect for these men and women who gave their lives for us, fighting for what they believed was right. And I think there’s something powerful in that. Dying for your convictions, it makes you wonder if you could make that sacrifice. If the needs of the many could outweigh the value you place on your own life. And that’s an interesting thought isn’t it? Because, people die in wars every day. It’s like we’ve all become so accustomed to the tragedy that it no longer resonates with us. And that’s horrific. The idea that somebody losing their life for you no longer matters to you, or no longer even gets noticed, does that mean they died in vain? I spend every day of my life “Thinking Brave”. I think that true bravery, is being afraid, being terrified and not knowing what will happen, but doing it anyway. Telling yourself to take the leap even though you are standing shaking on the edge, that’s bravery to me. Because if you don’t feel fear, then you’re not overcoming anything, and are you really being brave at all?

Standing in the exhibition, in a room dedicated to the sacrifices so many men and women made for us, so that we could live in the freedom we all have in New Zealand, made me really evaluate how brave I am. It made me wonder what I would be willing to die for. It made me feel. And you know what? I didn’t hate it.

Blank Babies

My body is my canvas. You can sometimes, if your lucky, leave your mark on the world. But you can definitely leave a mark on your body. My scars tell a story, every freckle adds up to make me who I am and every tattoo is a decision I’ve made at a time in my life. Happy or sad they’re with me for life. They are the one thing I’ll take to the grave. I’ve chosen to look like this. I couldn’t choose my personality, or my height, but I could decide how to decorate the body I have. I have ridiculous amounts of metal in my face, nine piercings, I’m stretching my ears and I’m covered in tattoos. Because I can. But what I find funniest, and maybe ridiculous, is the fact even though I’ve chosen to look like this I expect the babies of bogan parents to come out already bogan.

Logically I know this isn’t how it works; I didn’t pop out of the womb with six tattoos and pulling devil horns. But for some reason unknown to me I just always think alternative parents pop out bogan babies. When both parents have tattoos I always wonder to myself where their babies tattoos are. Or when they have piercings, or coloured hair, I just get so confused and end up staring at said child with a poop face. Its strange the way my mind works. But I guess it’s also strange for blank children, wondering why they don’t have pictures on their arms yet. Or when their metal mouth spikes will grow

But that’s a beauty of coming out “clean”. You have a blank slate to decide who and what you want to be. We’re all cookie cutter in the begging, but you get to choose when you are in the end. So if I bogan family has a baby who likes pink princess dresses, or a cookie cutter family ends up with a metal head, its just the way of the world. None of my family is bogan, I chose my own path and these blank babies get to do the same.

Hell’s where I was born! Hell’s where I was raised, This hell is where I’m from and this hell is where I’ll stay.

Excitement in the air, the most insane show to date. HellYeahs first ever New Zealand tour was insane! I love live music. There’s something about between surrounded by people who love the music as much as you do that makes the atmosphere electric. You can’t beat it. Every show is like coming home, I’ve said before that bogans are my family but until you’ve shared blood, sweat and tears you don’t really understand the feeling. Metal shows are insane, it’s a group of people bought together from their love of music but they all come from different paths and different walks of like. And HellYeah was the top of the top.

Music saved my life. It saved the life of most of the people who were there. New Zealand doesn’t get a lot of the big metal acts. We miss out a fair bit because we are so far away. But when bands make the effort to come all the way over, the bogans turn out in force. Even the openers were insane. They really understood metal music and the drummer was brilliant. There’s something about drummers for me, the way they do so much, play so hard, they’re pouring with sweat and they keep going, just for the love of music.

HellYeah. Well. There aren’t really any words to describe it. When the openers play everyone listens. And HellYeah really killed it last night. I wont go into too much detail about the Set List, but you have to imagine the Drummer on a brilliant cherry red Drum Kit raised at the back of the stage, Three guitarists shredding until their fingers bled on the sides, and a lead singer screaming his lungs out and being within touching distance. HellYeah stays away from the theatrics of other bands, like Alice Cooper, and keep it raw and all about the music. I have to say I went a little crazy when they played my favourite song “Drink Drank Drunk” and I can tell you that this bogan left covered in sweat, bruised but not bloody and the happiest I’ve been in quite awhile. There’s just something about live metal music that you can’t beat.

Seagulls are Satan

There’s murder in these eyes.

Any animal that is no longer afraid of me freaks me out. Humans are supposed to be the top of the food chain but let me tell you, I think that we have some competition; seagulls! They’re evil and far too domesticated for my liking. I think a lone Seagull isn’t so much of a threat, but they travel in packs, or flocks, and it would only take one lethal beak stab to the eyeball and that would be that for you.

Now, bogans are pretty notorious for being grumpy and hating things. Trust me on this, I’ve been a bogan for many years and we hate everything. Especially sunshine, sparkles and happiness; It all comes with the black clothing. But for me, birds are like the straw that broke the camels back. If we didn’t need birds to plant trees and eat spiders I would be all for destroying them and any evidence of their existence. It’s the swooping! The wings. The dangerous sharp beaks. The lack of fear and an older sister’s poor decision to let me watch Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘Birds’ at a young age that all came together and gave me an irrational fear that they’ll peak me to death. That wouldn’t exactly be a fun way to go.

So next time when you’re at the park trying to have a lovely time eating your fish and chips you paid for with your hard earned money, and you hear a faint war cry off in the distance, fear fills your heart and the seagulls descend to shit on your hopes and dreams, you’d better run because I truly believe its not the chips they’re after, It’s your life.

In Defense Of Metal

Metal music and metal culture, they’re interchangeable. Although they are slightly different in the end they came from the same place. Metal music is almost an understatement for the many many sub genres surrounding it, but metal bands are often interchangeable. Metal culture on the other hand is where alternative people find a home. It’s where the people who never quite fitted in band together and the atmosphere is insane.

Metal heads generally have a bad name. I guess if I was a cookie-cutter I too would be afraid of badass people with spikes in their faces, wearing all black and doc martins. Its understandable, but people who think like this are also the people who are missing out. Metalheads are the greatest people I know, they might be passionate about something out of the ordinary, but just because you don’t understand it doesn’t make it wrong. Metal heads are the most open-minded and accepting people I’ve ever met. they’d never judge you for not being alternative, so why would you judge them on their appearance not their personalities.

The best example I can give is concerts. Concerts aren’t for the faint hearted, whichever genre of music you’re into. People get pushed, trampled and fights break out. when you have 10,000 people in one small space there’s bound to be drama. and although metal heads have the worst name, they’re actually the nicest and safest people to be around. If someone falls over at a mainstream concert or gets injured, chances are that person will be trampled half to death before the bouncers can get them out. At a metal concert, people will run in lift you up and get you out as fast as possible. Being a female the bigger guys will protect me from the more rowdy moshers and although there’s a higher chance of being injured with the metalhead headbangers, walls of death and snake pits, all of this is optional. If it’s not you’re cup of tea you get right out of there and no body will say a thing. I think maybe this is the biggest misconception id change; that metal concerts are dangerous, because really in the middle of the pit, sweaty and bouncing around with a bunch of strangers to my favorite band, I’ve never felt safer in a crowd. I’ve seen metal heads lift kids onto their shoulders, stop the entire show, and find their (admittedly very worried and upset) parents before the show continues. When I dislocated my shoulder at Papa Roach at Soundwave in Melbourne and refused to leave the pit, the guys behind me made a wall with their bodies so i wouldn’t be slammed around anymore. Metal is  a family, its like we banded together because society labeled us outcasts.

If the people who are metal heads aren’t a big enough draw card, then the music itself should be. People have these weird ideas about metal music, and yeah I guess I can understand it when you look at Slipknot and Marilyn Manson. Their on stage personas and theatrics are insane. But all it would take is to listen to the lyrics. Music can’t corrupt your soul, music can’t make you a serial killer, but it can sum up a situation you’re going through or a time in your life and help you through it. Music is my escape, It’s where I go when I’m feeling anything and I know a lot of people feel the same.

And to end this blog post, defending all that I am and all that I believe in, ill leave you with my favourite song;

“Seize the day or die regretting the time you lost It’s empty and cold without you here, too many people to ache over Trials in life, questions of us existing here Don’t wanna die alone without you here Please tell me what we have is real” -Seize the Day, Avenged Sevenfold

an introduction

I’m just a small town girl wanting to enter a world mostly dominated by 40-year-old men. Rock stations traditionally lean towards males but at the end of the day I am a true Metal Head and I can keep up with the boys.

I am bringing my personality into a new light and am going to be the Happy Bogan on Indie/Rock station “The Basement” where I will create a nigh time based show which is very opinionated but music based with a BBC Radio One or Hauraki feel to it. Music is the most important part for me but I also want to have a fun and out of the box show, highlighting what its like to be a Bogan in New Zealand. “The Basement” is irreverent so my quick wit and passion about the music playing will be at the forefront of the show. Because I am a true metal head and quite snappy I want to bring a new take Night time metal radio and explore the funny situations of my day to day life with the audience.

My concert attending is getting out of control, any metal gig in Wellington you can guarantee ill be there. I even travel to Auckland more often then I like to admit for shows. I know what I like and I’m not afraid to go against popular opinion and let people know what I think of their music taste. My only rule is that the classic must always be respected and I would like to introduce people to what a Metal Concert atmosphere is really like, dispelling some of the negative views and opening peoples eyes to what bogans are all about and how they are probably the coolest and nicest people you’ll ever meet.