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I Had A Great Topic This Morning

Having my coffee and breakfast, staring off the balcony. I had a great topic in my head to write about today. Instead of going straight to work on my great blog idea, I decided to apply to some local jobs, and aimlessly scroll through Facebook.

Three hours later, I felt blanketed by regret for getting sucked into ‘Zombie scrolling’.

On the bright side, I may have found a good-paying furniture moving job. The guy I spoke with seemed very nice, and I have the impression I will get on well with them. I also found a very exciting Social Media Manager opportunity. The guy claimed he was swamped with applications and I haven’t heard from him yet.

Nor have I heard back from any farms…

My roommates asked me what I’m planning to do once lockdown ends. Tuesday is coming quick.

Well, Tuesday presents itself as the elephant in the room question. A lot of people are saying Alert Level Three will be scarcely different than Alert level 4. Are we allowed to move? Are we supposed to move? I haven’t got anywhere to go confirmed yet. Its no use working my-self up. I’m dreading texting my friend Kelly for her couch to crash to on.  The issue is she’s in Dunedin which is close to seven hours south. And while two weeks in Dunedin won’t be too bad, it feels like a setback returning. And i hate asking for charity from people I don’t know well. Me and Kelly were good weekend friends, but we only hung out four or five times, and never really had ‘Deep Chats’. Then again, shes a typical Kiwi; hopefully I find a shred of their famous hospitality in her.

Backpackers are no longer welcome in NZ. It flipped almost overnight, we were once loved and made subjects of interest. Now w’re scrutinized and feared. I am being dramatic, but I can agree with the other backpackers. Getting dirty looks for having an accent sucks. Then again I have very little to complain about. I can’t imagine all the Entrepreneurs, and small businesses that face losing everything due to the lockdown. I have no dependents, and ultimately I choose to stay.

I choose to stay. I knew this stress was a possibility. And I’ve come to the realization that I love the chaos of uncertainty. I know something will come up because I’ll find, or make something come up. I have no other choice.

Tree-planting’s a choice. I’d rather do something different this time though. I definitely prefer piece work/commission to regular wage. I’m trying hard to get on a fruit picking farm. I’ve applied to a few sheep and dairy farms…

And typing this now has reminded me of Ryan from Wellington. Ryan, the weed addicted Kiwi, on the run from the police, who I met in Sydney Australia. The guy who insisted on showing me around Wellington insisted he changed and set me up to join a fire spinning circle. He had been working on a farm for as long as I had been traveling in Canada and Vietnam. I’m holding hope that he and the farmer ended on good terms; I may have a reference for a place to go.

And go I will. I’m starving for work. Starving for structure and direction. Staying within Christchurch seems optimal, and is my current preference. However, there’s nothing binding me to anywhere particularly in NZ now. I’m in my most effective state; unbound and hungry.

Here’s to opportunity, and making a call tomorrow.


It Was a Scam

The online job that I thought too good to be true, truly was. After I posted the ads to Facebook marketplace, I was flooded with responses from across the Middle-East. So many eager and excited to jump on the ‘deal’ I was advertising. I had one guy respond back to me, saying I was advertising a scam. I messaged the company and was informed that had blocked my messages. I was filling with suspicion and dread, faster than my inbox with all its requests from names I cannot pronounce for information, and how to make the sale final.

The who said it was a scam said they wanted the money deposited into their bank account, and that they would courier the phone over. The sketchy thing is this company has no website, or any material online, other than its Facebook which it uses to sell phones. They appear to have an office/warehouse and plenty of stock. However, they are so vague in providing details and seem quite annoyed whenever they are asked questions about the company.

I was really hoping this marketing job worked out. I’m broke and have yet to hear back from anyone about work. I might just ask Brandon to join him in his drive to where-ever once this is done. Or talk to Kelly about couch-surfing, and return to Dunedin for 2-3 weeks.

Its going to be another late night on the job boards.

Something Other Than the Bars

I spoke to my best friend Connor today. It’s not that unusual for Quarantine, I pretty much call him every-day I don’t call, or get called by my parents. Connor has so many fantasies of the global-world in his head. He’s eager as a beaver to finish school and resume traveling. He’s a fun guy to travel the world with. We were traveling and living in Melbourne for a while in 2018. We were planning a huge road trip into the Outback once we raised funds in Melbourne. Halfway through our fundraising, he got accepted into an MSC program in Ontario. It suited me fine, as my former employer offered me a car to drive through the Outback on their dollar.

He cut his Australian adventure into less than half; he never completed his farm work. Costing him his ability to return on a Working Holiday Visa. And now he plans to travel the Artic Circut in Scandanavia. He dreams of watching the Northern-Lights Hang upon the Fjordlands. His voice got to a higher pitch when he said “Just going to the bars, and meeting the people in town.” And it was the only excitement I could not share with him over his trip. I didn’t discourage him. I just wasn’t interested in listening to his fantasy about paying for beer in Krones instead of Dollars.

It also reminds me of what I struggled with on Vancouver Island, and again in Vietnam. The loss of excitement for meeting new people. The novelty of something/someone different wears off when every day its different things and different people. I also remembered myself at 20. My first time truly backpacking; hoping the Go-bus and trains across The U.K and Europe. I was on my way home from studying in Ghana for 8 months. I had no plans, 500$ CAD in my chequing account, and a two-week layover.

Bar’s were the priority. I passed through Brussels, Amsterdam, Paris, and more. While I made a point of hitting the Eiffel Tower, and Notre Dame, I skipped things like the Van Gogh Museum for day drinking and street parties. I was having so much fun during those wild weeks. After years of living like that, the appeal really fades. They always said it would happen to me when I was in High-School, and I didn’t believe them.

Needless to say, I’m excited for Connor. I’d also love to do the Artic Circut, and the bars would be a blast, despite being a low priority personally. However, to focus on my side projects, and what I want to build for the future. The bars just aren’t that big of a deal to me. And it’s a cool feeling. I used to wonder if I would ever be comfortable living my life without partying frequently. I’m not even sure I’ll be overly excited to party at the end of lockdown. Mostly because I’ll be too broke to really enjoy it, or anything. But also because I’ve had a really good time working on all my little things while in Dunedin and again on Lockdown. I’m so glad I took a break during Vietnam and my first three weeks in New Zealand. To reset and re-energize my writing style. Figure out my focus.

Connor said he may come to New Zealand to do a hiking trip through the New Zealand Fjordlands once this blows over and he’s done school. That’s an adventure I’ll happily be whisked away on. And contradictory to everything I said above; I’ll be dragging him to the bars once we’re done.

The condition is he comes to New Zealand and we have sick adventures.

IMG_6558This is a sample of my Hai Guang adventures, that I posted to Instagram. The motorcycle track is amazing. Check out my Instagram @ #TheYesMad.

Right Its A Proper Hangover

For the second time during quarantine, we got on the piss. It was an intense night that steamed out of day drinking and talking shit about local news stations. Four beers and agreement that extended lockdown sucks. Julian was stoked, and tipsy. He gave out beers generously. Quickly turning into Rum and Vodka.

I didn’t sleep. It’s not true, but it’s not untrue. I was up, sipping beer and screwdrivers until about 8:30, 9 in the morning and then I slept until close to two. Then I called my Mom and Dad and we talked about stocks.

I have no idea how I felt so sober during our chat. Today’s hangover is nothing like the hangover last time I drank with the roommates. I’ve also had zero energy or real focus. Tons of giggles from last nights shenanigans, and otherwise loving life as a couch-potato.

I’m reeling to get out and about. I’m excited to move and exist amongst people again. A part of me looks back, and thinks I didn’t use my lockdown time to its fullest utility. With this, I agree. But I also got a lot done.

I’m actually pretty confident with my financial literacy, and I understand the stock market, and real estate market A LOT more now. Plus I learned some cool tech tricks, and things about computers, cameras, and story telling.

And I managed to hit my old work-out goals. Made those old goals a daily habit. In principle, there is almost nothing ‘bigger’ than that.

Onwards to a clear head for tomorrow. Onwards to job hunting, and building a solid post-lockdown plan.

IMG_6527Another photo from my amazing trip to Vietnam. This is one of my favorite edits. Please check out my Instagram @ #theyesmad

Its The Little Victories

After months of rejections and no’s, a woman messaged me on Facebook, saying she saw my ‘Job-Wanted’ Ad on the Facebook. She messaged me saying she had an online agency that needed some people for digital marketing. I’m crossing my fingers and wishing on shooting stars that this isn’t a pyramid scheme. If this winds up being a legit job, then I’ll have income and a fail or flight learning environment for digital marketing skills.

On top of that, there are tons of farms opening up once we go into level 3. It gives me hope, as they sometimes provide accommodation.

Speaking of accommodation, New Zealand has started ‘Emergency Hostels’. Basically, they’re free hostel-style accommodation, for backpackers and tourists who’ve run low on funds during COVID-19. Most of the advertised ones have been on the North Island, which will remain closed to all except essential travel, and those who can prove their moving for a job.

What a Working Holiday Experience. I always said I wanted unique, impossible to copy experiences. And I definitely got what I wanted in that regard. Be careful what you wish for, blah blah blah.

I’m not excited about rocking up to the free accommodation. Something tells me there will be a bitter sense of entitlement in the air. Backpackers, who feel their dreams and fantasy have been ruined by the lockdown. Backpackers who feel isolated in a foreign country, pulling their hair out, over how little money they have.

I know it’s going to infuriate me when I met some traveler, entitled and naive. Who will find things to continually complain about, despite having free accommodation in times of crisis.

Then again, I guess some people deal with stress and worry by pushing negative emotions out onto others. And the emergency accommodation is Plan C. Plan A is finding an online gig related to Christchurch. Plan B is moving to a job offering accommodation. The other issue with free accommodation is the competition for employment. Everyone will be at the ends of their wits, and likely desperate. The mass amounts of people, with varying levels of work ethic, competence and talent will make for shitty jobs with worse pay and terrible conditions. And we will have no way to change it.

So I’m going to do everything in my power to avoid that.

I’m hoping to find a gig online, through Facebook or Indeed. Using Upwork is soul-crushing, as people put little value in the writing, and the App takes a heafty third party fee (20%).

IMG_6539Vietnam. Follow my Instagram @ #TheYesMad

Will The Times Make Us Forget Again?

One thing I’ve noticed about the changing times is how quickly everyone forgets. We used to dwell on topics and memorize dates. “Where were you when Sydney Crosby took the shot in the 2010 Winter Olympics was a common joke ‘get to know you’ question asked around the cafeterias in my University. People remembered Brittney Spears’ meltdown. Boston movies always reference baseball, and no one forgets the lessons and struggles of 2008.

Somewhere around 2016, things began moving really fast. Smartphones changed; the internet changed, and our perspectives on gender and sex came under microscope inspection. Times got weird, then continually got wilder. Youngsters ate tide-pods, and if that’s your take away from 2018, you had a lame year. War rages in every corner overseas. And at home, some posters, for some refugee camp, lies in every corner of public space. “Donate Now. Raise Awareness. Start the Change”. Pipelines get protested; schools get shot up; national anthems are put into question and cult’s start in people’s back yards. And the rabbit holes keep coming. Stupid internet challenges. T.v exposing and glorifying twisted levels of debauchery.

We keep forgetting. Moving on, uncaring and consumed by all that’s around us. The drain from performing at your ‘9-5’. The exhaustion, frustration, fulfillment, and absorption into your side hustle, hobby, project, or young ones. The bombardment of new information. All wrapped in ever-evolving cyberspace outpacing the human capacity to comfortably adapt.

We found out about Pedefile Island six months ago. Our link, Epstine had a sketchy as hell death. And people mostly moved on from the subject. More people were dying. Others were thriving. No one had any idea the entire world would go into lock-down six months down the line.

This is so big, and so personal to everyone. Some are fortunate, and go about their day ‘business as usual’. Yet the common person is affected. Isolated, and deprived. This lack of socialization will no doubt have an effect on our social skills. I realized the decline had already personally begun while running errands. There was a beautiful girl at the supermarket today. Standing two isles over I tried to think of a reason to call out to someone despite social distancing. 

During my daydreams, the cashiers hurried me out of the store. I walked back in a daze to truck and told my roommates Julian and Claire about my exciting morning. Don’t judge me, in these times the bar is low. Anyways. Julian and Claire get a laugh out of me describing how awkward I am in line. Julian picks her out in the car park and says he’s got an idea.

“OI! How was the grocery shopping?”

“O? Oh hello? It was quite lovely”


At this point I already had my head in my hands, convulging with laughter. This was the most embarrassing thing to happen to me since I got caught trying to sneak into a concert, that I bought and held a ticket for.

Our Truck blocked the space behinder her car. She was boxed in. Clarie made a comment about how uncomfortable this is for both me and the girl. The girl began laughing hard. Julian peeled-out just as we made eye contact.

He was right. Her smile was beautiful.

But holy shit has social distancing made me awkward. I’m going to be blubbering around the streets and the bars like some blubbering sitcom character. Then again, everyone is.

O I can’t wait for the circus of freedom.

Going back to my point. Do you guys think people will forget and move on from this like they have for world events in the past? Or is this the next global phenomin that takes us to a new stage in Globalisation? One where its not just the market connecting us. But a real, human experience. The time everyone shut down, and every form of current capitalism, and state-welfare was tested.

I just hope we don’t dwell on this for years. Making this the topper for the Technological golden age we’ve been experiencing as a species would be anti-climatic.

IMG_3310Here’s a shot of me trying to be Majestic next to the crater of Mount Batur, Bali. For more photos please check out my Instagram #TheYesMad

They Call Him Mr. F*** Your Girl

Today was a day of tragedy and let down. A day that left foreigners shocked and locals unsurprised. Prime Minister Ardern declared Alert Level Four would continue for another week, followed by Alert Level Three. This means one further week without work. One further week of stretching out my finances. And they’re low. I’m no longer interested in working in Christchurch. I’d love to be here for a few weeks/months to get my feet wet with the international Antarctica Center, and museum. However, I am in survival mode now. And realizing I won’t get my masters sorted in this go has my urgency for city life quelled.

Farm work, forestry. Hell, I’ll even be an Au-par. I tried doing surveys online earlier. It took me 15 minutes to complete one survey that awarded 75 points. The website said every time I submit 500 points, I’ll get 10$ sent to my Pay-Pal, It’ll take me close to two hours to earn 10$. I suppose some money is better than no money, but still, that is a weak option.

I have noticed some job ads on Indeed. Looking for essential service staff and beyond. While the goal was to move forward, right now I need to stay afloat. It’s hard to keep reminding myself of this fact. I’ve got this unsteadiness, and urge to return to normal. My personal financial position post-COVID won’t allow me to return to normal. And I stare off my balcony, at all the Kiwi homes and wonder how many others share this deep sinking fear.

I’ve read articles online, of essential service workers being paid less than those on E.I. They’re outraged and feeling exploited. Perhaps this is the revolution Marx, and all my Undergrad fellows have been waiting for. My ultimate ‘topple capitalism theory’ has been proven wrong during the duration of our quarantine. I always used to think that if the whole world went on strike, and stopped consuming for a day, there would be a crash in stock value leading to an economic collapse. While this theory was more dependant that Gas stations, in particular, be boycotted. The lockdown behavior has proven my theory to be false. I’m so glad I can move on with my life.

I am unsure how I will move forward now. Slowly? Quickly? I have paid for one more week here. I guess its time to get cracking on jobs, accommodation, and the sort. The issue is the country goes into level 3 this time next week. They say level three won’t be much different. I’m optimistic that level 3 will have a healthy market flow, and bring in a wave of casual employment as shops hurry to open up.

Reeling from the loss of an extended quarantine, I turned to Facebook to make several status, as that always helps a situation. Scrolling through the articles and meme’s. Trying to get my mind off of the coming storm; my friend shared a post. It was a long, barely English post, where some trashy girl was talking about how great her boy-friend was. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to set him up with other women, or intimidate people. She kept calling him her man, so I guess they’re together…

It’s just that he has a tattoo that says “MR FUCK YOUR GIRL” across his forehead. I can’t imagine that would be healthy for the relationship, as everytime he meets someone new, he has to fuck their girl. Then again, maybe she’s into that.

He has the state of Texas tattooed underneath the tittle, right between his eyes. There’s a swastika on his abdomen, and somehow he had all his teeth. I fell over laughing when I saw this golden nugget on my news feed. And then my friends started sharing photos of their conversations with this guy and all those in their circle.

Its a cyber circus portraying the fundamental failures of being human. It was too human to be a cosmic horror. Too incomprehensible and arranged to normal

And I’m pretty sure they’re from Brampton because they say BRAAAAP alot.

Like People from Brampton.

So I sent a picture of the tattoos to my friend Liz. She texted me saying “What am I even looking at?” I called her up and yelled


Never in my life had I thought I would one day call someone up and scream it. I never thought I would “Mr Fuck Your Gril” in a serious sense. Me and my old Fundraising manager Bic would call Mr/Mrs Steal your girl, but only as a joke. And this was the real deal. The real Mr Fuck your Girl. I’m just so happy to know there’s an official Mr Fuck your Girl.

Maybe I’ve gone crazy from lockdown.

God being in a zoo must be a shitty life.

I didn’t share the picture because I don’t want a swastika related/linked to my blog. And I guess his privacy is important… To a point.

IMG_5153I wouldn’t call a guy running around in a Chuckie onesie MR Fuck Your Girl, I would call him a #YesMad. Please check out my Instagram #TheYesMad

Aligning Plans As I Travel

It’s relieving to know I won’t be able to make large steps towards my masters until I have secured my permanent residency. Every time guilt for not writing or working on academia creeps up, I can remind myself now is not the time. I can keep the bulk of my mental energy focused on the tasks I’ve been working on.

It was exhausting doing deep dives of academic research, followed by photoshop and finance education. From now until I get sponsored, getting sponsored is my primary goal. The morning focus is my 9-5 job. No juggling 5 different things like I did at Ledcor. Instead, it will be two. My job, and my brand. In the morning or the ‘9-5’ section of my day, I’ll be focused on my job. How can I improve something, anything? How do I increase efficiency, or sell more? I’ll have to be looking for any avenue that scores me points and benefits in the permanent residence process.

After work, I divert my mental focus to writing, learning technical stuff related to social media, photography, and WordPress. The other side project to juggle is the trading account I set up with my parents, and continued financial learning. Finance is such a boring, confusing, complex subject. Learning terms for myself, and the market for the account.

Academia can be exhausting. Both reading and writing it. Even thinking about journals. Pondering on critiques, skepticizing Utopia, and thinking you’re smarter than everybody for finding the hole in their theory, or a probable that makes it less than perfect. It wears a lot on your mind. Hours of data mining to find a good paper. Like an intense workout, doing it in the morning leaves you drained for the rest of the day, even if you feel great and productive.

And once the permanent residency is sorted, I can begin seriously inquiring about my program. I won’t have to worry about international laws, interviews, and paperwork that goes along with processes involving lawyers. Nope, once the heavy legal stuff is sorted, I’ll be able to focus fully on my masters.

Well almost fully. I’ll still be writing and banging my head off the wall every time I have to learn something tech-related. Although social media interfaces make me feel smart. Maybe I just need to focus on my talent. Besides, after a year or two, I hope my writing and net skills are in a place that doesn’t require hours of practice, or learning. I’m hoping writing becomes like second nature at that point, and I rely on the muscle memory; like when I was planting trees.

I also plan to understand finance fully by the time I begin my post-grad study. And I’m sure there are plenty of other basic adult things I should that I don’t even know about, but I think finance is a big one. And once I have that one out of the way, everything else on the path will be smaller, faster and easier. Until I decide to learn a new language at least.

I’m starting to feel stir-crazy, and bored. anxious and sluggish.

I hope the quarantine ends soon. Adventures are food for my soul, and I’m famished.

IMG_3430Shot from inside a cave in Australia. For more photos check out my Instagram @ #TheYesMad

Bright Rays And High Vibes

The sun’s been in full blast, and what a Sunday send-off. With the amount of recovered cases almost tripping the current infected, talks for lifting quarantine have begun. Tomorrow we find out our fate. Do we go to Alert Level 3? Or will Jacinda keep good on her promise of a five week quarantine? Tomorrow morning will be a big one.

This morning was a big morning on its own. I woke drenched in sweat, and early. I got up at 10;30 and read The Great Gatsby until noon. I’m not sure if I like this book or not.. On one hand, the writing is pretentious and slow. On the other, I seem to have a lot of opinions and thoughts for a book that I’m not even interested in.

Finishing my reading and work out, I took a long walk along the park and beach. I spent close to three hours outside today. Sunshine felt so good. I’ll miss this stunning mountain view; I don’t think I’ll miss climbing the hill. Then again, I can’t let my hopes get too high. The decision on stage three is being made tomorrow, and many are predicting Jacinda will extend.

Others are saying there’s no point to extending, because of New Zealand’s reliance on Imports and foreign tourism. Measures and progress within the borders will become redundant, as outside carries bring the virus back into the country.

What will happen the next time a major disease or pandemic is spotted? Will the world shut down again?

I’m itching to get out and about in Christchurch.IMG_5156This is a photo from my road trip to Salmon Glacier B.C. For more photography please check out my Instagram #Theyesmad