A decade ending in passion.

As has been my New Years tradition for many years, this is my wrap up of my 2009. What I have seen in 2009, what I have learnt, what I wish to learn.

More succinctly, however, it is my time for a bit of nostalgia.

New years eve, two-thousand and nine, is a pretty big deal - I think. What we have here is the end of a decade. This decade, the naughties, is the decade that I have really grown up in. I remember 10 years ago I was getting ready for the biggest change of dates that was seen in 1000 years - the turn of a new millennia. It was pretty exciting for me. The year 2000 sounded so futuristic. The turn of the century was the first new year that I really remember. It was the first time I tried champagne, and the first time that I stayed up 'til 1.30 in the morning.

The following years huge changes occurred. 10 years has seen me complete my schooling and move into higher education. It has seen me begin many new things, and even been enough time to end the new things. The 10 years are riddled with personal achievements - the highlights and...lowlights.

But these 10 years has also seen huge changes to the global landscape of the world. The internet has taken off, and grown at an astounding rate. Facebook, Youtube, Myspace, Bebo, MSN, Blogger, Google - all of these are household names, terms. My fantastic new phone, purchased at the turn of this decade, now has access to all these sites, and many more. The social landscape has changed entirely.

The naughties also saw September 11 in 2001. When my parents told me of this I never realised the true implications of the event. Yet still we feel the effects of this event - eight years later.

Environmentally, global warming has gone from the realm of hardcore environmentalists to front page populist news.

But that's the big picture decade - viewable in the essay section of any major newspaper. This blog is really about myself and my year.

War followed and has been a part of our headlines for eight years now.

***

Passion has never really been a concept that I have put too much thought into. Whenever I heard the word passion I tended to think of a passionate relationship - a person to person relationship - and looked upon it cynically as just some overblown Hollywood concept.

The way you see many things changes as you go through life. All of you already know that, no doubt. This year - 2009 - has seen me change the way that I see many things and perhaps passion is perhaps one of the most pronounced of these. It shares the stage with other concepts, but for the purposes of this blog - passion is in the spotlight.

When I think about 2009 I think about one thing in particular - my first year at university. Now I have constructed for myself a pretty idealistic view of uni. I really like it. It's a great place to get my learn on, it's stimulating and it's full of interesting (though pretty damn pretentious) people (I fit it rather well). But what I like most about uni is the passion.

I am being taught by people who have devoted years of their lives to studying, exploring and teaching different, narrow and highly detailed sections of human knowledge. I think it takes a great deal of something to be able to do that. And I think that something has to be passion.

Now...I guess I always knew that people had their passions...but I never knew just how powerful a concept passion really was. We have here something that drives people to examine the most intricate and almost irrelevant knowledge to a subject that many would be surprised even existed. There are entire bodies of work devoted to riverbank erosion on the Bangladesh delta, the social construction of nationalism, the way we structure identity online. Each area has hundreds of texts, several books, and endless discussions between a number of academics.

Suddenly I could see and explore the results of incredibly passionate people and I understood just what a powerful force passion can be.

Though it took academic passion to make me realise what passion can be, I now acknowledge that it is not the only form of passion, and all forms are just as likely to result in wonderful things - be it on a personal relationship level, or on a global knowledge level. This year I have met people this year who are incredibly passionate about the natural environment - taking great strides to change the perceptions of the greater population. I have made friends with people who are passionate about music and the power it has to bring people together. I have been taught by someone who knows more about Vietnamese culture than the probable majority of the Vietnamese.

These are people are individuals who can change the way other people relate to each other. They have the power to inspire change within one's self, one's community, or between people. Passion empowers the individual.

And though that sentiment is a tired cliché (though is there any other type of cliché?) it is an important thing to discover for yourself, rather than be told.

The naughties have given me a solid foundation upon which to construct my future.

And the last year of this decade has shown me the way to move forward into the next decade.

And so I set myself not a new year's resolution, but rather a new decade's resolution.









I will find my passion.

And I will empower myself with the ability to effect change.













And I promise that I will also learn to write these yearly recounts in a way that won't sound so ridiculous. =)

To my friends, family, and valued readers I send my love and best wishes as you welcome in the new decade (to those that don’t fit those categories I also offer my best wishes. But you’ll have to work for the love.=) )

Sincerely farewelling 2009,
Christopher.

Living the "real" life in cyberspace

More and more often I am hearing the terms "real life" and "real world" in conversation. It might not be that there is an real increased use of these terms, but learning this year has been starting to train me in doing a double take on terms like this - so I guess I'm just learning to notice it more.

Whenever I hear "real life" or "real world" I almost have to stop and question what the person is actually referring to when they say this. Why indeed do we feel the need to have "real life" as a term? And indeed, what is this "real life" everyone is going on about?

I have decided of late that I do not like the term "real life" or "real world".

Now I'm going to place some boundaries on the particular usage of "real life" and/or "real world" that I will be covering in this entry. I am going to be discussing this term in relation to the divide between interactions within "cyberspace" and interactions located within geographical space, or tangible physically existent space.

The usage of the terms generally implies a kind of divide between virtual worlds and the physical world. The term can be used to devalue interaction in web based mediums, used with disdain for people who interact with people on the net who have never met in "real life". But it doesn't necessarily have to be used with malice, it can be used just in passing. It is a common part of our everyday speech. But it is a loaded part of our speech - it comes with a series of assumptions that we make about the internet that I fear we do not stop to question.

I guess we have to ask ourselves what we deem to be real. I think we can all agree that the monitor you are reading this through is real. You can see it, you can touch it, you can relocate it, you can physically interact with it. Same as your mouse, keyboard, phone, bed, etc etc. I would suspect that many of your friends you would view as real. They exist, you can touch them, speak with them, see them with your eyes, you can interact with them as if they are objects located physically around you.

So anything that you can touch, see, smell, hear, taste is real, yeah?

Now I'm going to move into the slightly more abstract. Are your emotions real? Is love, jealousy, happiness, sadness and anger, real? Even though you cannot feel them through your senses, they are something that is there, something that is real.

Again, I would suspect yes, though feel free to disagree.

Having accounted for that...I have a proposition for you, my dear readers. I propose that cyberspace, although not physically tangible is a valid means to experience a certain kind of life. This type of life, I would argue, is no less real to those experiencing it than those who are of the opinion that real life is mostly or only present in the physical world.

Alas, I cannot touch the person on the other end of my MSN conversation, nor can I smell or taste them. But these days I can see and hear them. They are real people, my conversations actually happen, and the consequences of these interactions spill over into my face to face interactions. Same with Facebook - the interactions has on that website affect people in a very real way. Some would argue that social networking has led to suicide - one of the most real consequences of cyberspace.

"What about more anonymous interactions?" Many would now seek to argue. "What about World of Warcraft, that's not a real world, that's make believe."

Alas, I would also argue that online gaming is very much a real world. What is not real about interacting with other humans in an imagined world. Children do it all the time, in fact they are encouraged to (On a side note, if you are interested in childrens' interactions with cyberspace this blog entry is good). They play in imagined worlds, pretending to be something/someone else. This is much of what online gaming is - playing in an imagined world. You can feel anger at interactions, you can make friends who are not physically tangible, but are very real in the sense of how they make you feel.

Furthermore I would argue that by continuing to employ a discourse that implies a segregation between cyberspace and the physical world we continue to adopt a blind eye to the social problems that go had in hand with the reality of web based experiences.

I think recognition of cyberspace as an environment that is very real in both its interactions and its consequences is vital toward encouraging open and frank discussions about how to deal with social problems like cyberbullying. This, combined with an education of parents, teachers and academics of how social interactions occur in cyberspace, should provide us with the foundation to understand how cyberspace has changed the dimensions of social life forever, and what this means for society.

I shall leave you with a theory from William Isaac Thomas, famous American sociologist:

"If men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences"

Clifthangers

I know that many of my readers will be having a hectic time with study at the moment so I figured that I would upload a bit of a fun story. It's one that I wrote about this time last year. I'm very fond of it, but it isn't one that has seen much exposure to an audience.

So please, take a little bit of time out of your academic musings and enjoy an easy read =)

Christopher.

***

The cow perched precariously on the edge of the cliff, entirely unsure as to how she came to be in this curious predicament. She gazed down cautiously, her jaw slowly chewing the gourmet cud she had just regurgitated. Blinking slowly, she decided to take a small step into the emptiness before her, just to see whether she wanted to continue walking. The cliff crumbled slightly, a dozen or so pebbles violently made their way down the exposed face of the cliff. The cow decided that it probably wasn’t the best idea, and took a few steps backwards into a wall of rock rising behind her. She kept chewing. The cow glanced to her left, eyeing a juicy clump of grass growing out of the rocky platform she had found herself balanced on. She turned herself to face it and, deciding that it was best to take a bite, swallowed her cud.


A harsh wind swept up the cliff. The cow took the delicious-looking clump to her mouth, and tugged gently. It didn’t budge. The cow tugged a little harder. It didn’t budge. She made sure her feet were planted solidly into the rocky platform, and took the clump into her mouth once more. Taking a deep breath she heaved her neck and body, her solidly planted legs giving her leverage. The grass didn’t budge. She let go, letting out a slightly defeated, yet still defiant, moo. The cow plonked herself onto the hard ground, staring intently at the stubborn tuft and imagining its juicy green goodness in her mouth. She hacked up her cud once more. Chewing cautiously, she tilted her head sideways in a thoughtful gaze, and a few moments later she rose again seemingly energised by a new idea.


The cow took a few steps over to the tuft, swallowed her cud, shook herself slightly, and began to furiously kick the hard rock that stood between her and her lunch. Her hard hooves sent chips of rocks flying down the cliff, going the same way as their previous brethren and tantalisingly exposing more of the delicious greenness. A few moments later the cow stopped, panting from her efforts. She bent her head, closely examining her hoof-work. The cow opened her mouth, enveloping the tuft in her moist cheeks. She braced herself once more, and heaved. The grass didn’t budge. Furiously she belted a series of aggressive moos at the stubborn plant while kicking angrily at the sheet of rock behind her. Throwing herself to the ground, she loudly hacked up her cud, and began to chew angrily, resuming her brainstorming.


The cow looked around the rocky platform she perched upon, searching for something that could possibly help her. Her wandering gaze focussed, suddenly, upon a patch of sand wedged amongst a couple of larger rocks. Poking its head out from this patch was the tip of a worn looking piece of rope. She glanced at the shelf of rock rising behind her, noting a rocky protrusion. The cow once again rose, the anger that previously flowed through her replaced by excitement. She grabbed the rope and pulled it from its sandy bed and, in some unlikely and just plain astounding movements of her mouth, managed to tie it tightly onto the stalk of the grassy tuft. Abandoning the tied end of the rope, she gathered the other end into her cheeks, and shuffled over to the face of rock behind her. She looped the rope around the previously noted protrusion, creating a simple pulley system. The cow, for the third time, dug her hooves into the ground, braced herself, and heaved on the rope with all the weight she could muster. The tuft flew out of the rocky enclosure it called home. The cow swallowed her cud in surprise and stumbled backwards into nothingness.


The cow was falling but letting out an ecstatic moo for the world to hear. The tuft - still attached to the rope, still attached to her mouth, fell with her. As she fell she began to pull the rope with her mouth, bringing the tuft closer toward her toward her. When the knot that attached the rope and tuft reached her, she freed the juicy green goodness with a few deft movements of the tongue and let the rope fall away. She closed her eyes, letting the juices of the stubborn tuft flow over tongue, enjoying the fruit of her labour. She reached the end of her drop, hitting her head on the rock of a platform that caught her. She swallowed the grass at the suddenness of it, and decided to lose consciousness.


The cow perched precariously on the edge of the cliff, entirely unsure as to how she came to be in this curious predicament. She gazed down cautiously, her jaw slowly chewing the gourmet cud she had just regurgitated. Blinking slowly she decided to take a small step into the emptiness before her, just to see whether she wanted to continue walking. The cliff crumbled slightly, a dozen or so pebbles violently made their way down the exposed face of the cliff. The cow decided that it probably wasn’t the best idea, and took a few steps backwards into a wall of rock rising behind her. She kept chewing. The cow glanced to her left, eyeing a juicy clump of grass growing out of the rocky platform she had found herself balanced on. She turned herself to face it and, deciding that it was best she took a bite, swallowed her cud.


A harsh wind swept up the cliff. The cow took the delicious-looking clump to her mouth, and tugged gently.


It didn’t budge.

...Though noticeably more forced.

Dear All,

Previous posts, and comments relating to them, have led me to reinforce the following point.

The following character is NOT me. The following character is fictitious, and though unavoidably based within my experiences, education and thoughts, should be read without the author at the forefront of your minds.

With love and apologies to any fellow social science students reading this. Writing happens to be an excellent way to cement new ideas. =)

Christopher.

***

You can always see those images of urban life on the TV. You know the type. The panning image of a metropolis skyline. The montage of busy streets, people dodging other people, rushing to and from. The jamming of city streets, impatient drivers leaning on horns. It's an organised mess of noise and interaction. A vast nest of networks, ever more complex as we march further and further into the information age.

These images that are designed to depersonalise city life, destroy individuality, and comment on the society that so many of us are a part of. Society that has conditioned us to believe that we are individuals anyway. That we can do what we like, when we like, how we like, and who we like. And I suppose that's true. We like to think we have choice - that we can go where we like. But there are so many forces outside of the individual, forces that constantly mould and shape our so called individuality. We can't go to the shops on December 25. We have to wear clothes, or run the risk of losing our freedom. Our unique sense of style is dictated by the whims of designers, the limits of technology, and whether we are really able to afford it. Those who strive to be different, try to separate themselves from the crowd, always end up doing it in the same way as every other person who thinks like that.

But so what?

The individual might just be a myth, in fact, I'm fairly certain that it is.

Maybe humanity is only valid as a collective.

And if it is, I think that it is something that even if we wanted to change it, we couldn't.

Love is an emotion that many would say is a fundamental of the human condition. But is it just a socially constructed state of mind? An unavoidable social fact, instilled into us from our birth to our death? The basis of all those Disney movies you grew up with, the institution of marriage, the world's greatest literature.

What about attraction? Is it as romantic as we would like it to be? Or merely a primal instinct, an evolutionary trait in order to ensure perhaps the only common goal of all life - reproduction.

But are these thoughts even relevant? Does it matter whether all our thoughts and emotions are moulded in ways that we don't even realise by society's subtle tendrils?

Time, I think, would perhaps be better spent not dwelling, moping, and wondering about the state we are in, the society that we could be. Time would be better spent embracing that society has allowed ourselves to believe that we are individuals, and no matter how thinly veiled this is, it doesn't change the way we have be bought up to feel.

And thus, this story is the experience of an individual - it is not a series of words dreamed up by the collective. And though I draw my words from thoughts already well pondered, from emotions almost unanimously experienced, the lens through which they are expressed is that of an individual. And though the lens is almost entirely moulded by outside forces, it is this moulding that has allowed the lens to belong to an individual.

And so I seek to personalise that urban montage. I want to zoom in on an entirely personal interaction between two people.

The interaction is unspoken. It is so subtle, fleeting and so personal that the event goes entirely unnoticed by the milling crowds. It is not part of the collective. But an experience shared by two individuals.

It was always a surprise when she appeared. A shock. She was sitting on bench, conveniently located to take a rest from the bustling city centre, surrounded by what he assumed were her friends. He hadn't seen them before. They looked happy. But was that a glimmer of sadness on her face between laughs? He doubted it. He was trying to see what he wished he could see. A glimmer that maybe he was still part of her. But it was only laughter and the glint of teeth that reached his searching gaze.

She looked up at that moment. Him, caught in a ponderous moment. Her, taken by surprise. Her smile slid from her cheeks. Adrenaline surged. Fight or flight - heartbeat jumping the gun. He broke eye contact, and walked away – short of breath -wondering why he couldn’t stand to face her.

She returned her gaze to her friends. They’d not noticed her distraction. The grin returned to her face. Though noticeably more forced. She glanced toward his retreating back, but he had already been engulfed, back into the milling crowds.

***

<3

Closure and admin...

Well - having just previously blogged on something that was a breaking news story, I have some closure related to the previous entry.

Firstly, happily, Kyle Sandilands has lost his job at Channel Ten judging Australian Idol after the aforementioned radio controversy.

Secondly, as I mentioned on the end of the previous entry - the PM did condemn the incident.

Thirdly, there has been a reaction to the incident from advertisers - with many reviewing their choice to advertise with the station, including large companies like Optus.

Fourthly, Kyle and Jackie-O's morning show has been taken off the air, pending a review.

So there you go - I think the reaction is much more suitable now.

***

In other news...

It occurs to me that many of my readers use the email subscription service this page operates. The advantage to this is that you get sent new entry as they are published.

The the disadvantage, and this has just occurred to me, is rather embarrassing. For you see, my editing process is highly unprofessional. I do a quick edit first, followed by a soft publish, assuming that no one will read it until I have been able to make sure that all the grammar, spelling and formatting is correct. I find it much easier to do my editing seeing the entry on the page, rather than in the box that Blogger provides me.


I imagine that this means that you get sent an unedited version of all my entries. For which I apologise profusely for. I do not ever intend to subject anyone to grammar and spelling that atrocious.

I also apologise if you get sent the entry multiple times, as I edit the entry multiple times before I advertise it as "published". Please let me know if this is the case.

I will review my editing process from now on, in the hope that all my readers get a slightly more professional final product.

Commercial radio - raping our airwaves?

Being fourteen wasn't particularly fun. In year eight I was fourteen. I stand by year eight being the single worst year in high school. Behaviour was atrocious all round, severe bullying was at its peak, and many people were seeking to cement the highest place possible in the unforgiving high school social ladder.

And no doubt there is also some crazy stuff going on with hormones (as scientists so often tell us in order to make excuses for teenage rattyness).

Now what does being fourteen have to do with anything? Well - anyone who has been connected to media sources in the last 24 hours will have noticed a bit of an uproar over a Kyle (urgh. big surprise) and Jackie-O radio segment aired on Wednesday.

I'm going to give you some "facts" (or at least, as fact as possible - having been reported by both ABC, and seemingly confirmed by listening to the radio segment in question) about this case, and then I am going to ask you to watch the YouTube "video" (it's actually just audio) below.

We have the Kyle and Jackie morning show. For those who are unaware I disdain Kyle Sandilands - just so you know where my personal bias lies.

We have a child aged fourteen come onto an "entertainment" show to be questioned about her sexual activity and drug use.

We have aforementioned child hooked up to a lie detector.

We have a mother who has granted permission to have her child on the show, granted permission to have the child hooked up to a lie detector, and has bought to the show a series of questions that she wishes to ask her daughter.



We what we are left with is a fourteen year old girl who has been raped, and pushed into publicly admitting it on air. Now lets make the assumption that this was not fabricated by the mother and daughter as a publicity stunt (and if it turns out later on that it is, I'm going to be even angrier than I am now).

Now - I'll let this out nice and early in the piece. I think that this entire segment in nearly every way is absolutely, and undeniably, disgusting.

Listen to the introduction to the segment, after having listened to the entire interview. Ms Jackie O - our seemingly mature and caring presenter, introduced the segment laughing while saying "she's [the girl in question] not happy".

And then all the girl can answer when asked "How are you?":

"I'm scared." And apparently the lie detector confirmed this.

"It wouldn't be fair on any child," is Jackie's response.

No. It wouldn't. Shame you didn't stop it right there.

This is a live radio segment, broadcast on a morning show - the prime time of radio - entirely devoted to questioning a minor about illegal activities she may have been a part of. Let's not forget that fourteen is under the age of sexual consent (I'm not 100% sure on the legalities surrounding this issue, so I may be wrong in assuming that the activity is against the law) and that she has already - apparently - admitted to smoking an illicit substance.

Thus, I think I can safely say that the idea of the segment to start with was in questionable, if not appalling taste. I believe that the broadcaster (2day FM) should be ashamed that this even got past an approval stage.

I also believe that the two presenters have a lot to answer for. Jackie-O redeemed herself slightly by being the "mature" voice after the revelation that this child had been raped (no doubt the producers would have been going nuts in the studio signaling them both to cut it...so we can't assume that she did this of her own accord). But I think Kyle's fantastic response was pure radio gold (oh please, please note the sarcasm):

Child: "Uh um, okay, I got raped when I was 12 years old!"
*silence*
Kyle (in his defense, somewhat uncertainly): "Right...and is that the uh...only experience you've had?"

That, my dear readers, is why I dislike Kyle Sandilands: "sweet, you got raped, that's kinda interesting, but really, we don't care about that, we just want to know, you know, if you've had sex?"

An apology is not good enough here. There needs to be accountability within the commercial radio business. There needs to be some responsibility taken

Many of you will remember the recent sketch aired on television show: the Chaser's War on Everything. Best summed up by the following news extract:

The 'Make a 'realistic' Wish Foundation' skit purported to be from a foundation which "helps thousands of kids to lower their extravagance and selfishness".

The skit signed off with the line: "Why go to any trouble when they're only going to die anyway?"

-http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2009/06/04/2589532.htm

This skit was slammed in the media, and the following day Prime Minister Kevin Rudd told the Chaser team, the following day, to "hang [their] heads in shame". The show was taken off air for two weeks, and as I understand it a member of the approval team was demoted for letting the skit go to air (apologies - I cannot recall the source).

Now this is a sketch that asked a very difficult and serious question, masked with very black comedy. We make donations to the Make-a-Wish foundation without second though - I entirely support the work they do, and gladly donate. What the Chaser team did - earning them a huge slap in the face from the Australian public - was ask the question "why do we donate to sick kids who have grown up in a very wealthy country, with a generally high standard of living?"

I think it's a very valid social observation, highly unnecessary and pretty distasteful, but definitely valid.

So why did I bring this up?

Well - it has some to my attention that there is a hideous inequality with the reaction to these two incidents.

We have here a radio station who has aired a segment that from the very word go, disregarded societal values, morals, and ethics, all in pursuit of listeners and, ultimately, more money from advertisers. In the process a young girl - not an actor (I hope...) - has had to reveal to the nation that she has experienced sexual assault at the devastating age of twelve.

2day FM should review its approval processes. Editors and producers who did approve the segment should be reprimanded severely, and I wouldn't say no to firing Kyle and Jackie O (but then, I would have liked that regardless of this incident, and sadly, I don't believe that this is enough for them to lose their jobs over).

I would love to see the broadcaster donate any profit raised from advertising during the show to go to organisations supporting rape victims. I would also like to see the two presenters donate their wages earned from the show to the same organisations. And I would love to see the same condemnation that our dear Prime Minister directed toward the Chaser boys to also be directed to Kyle, Jackie-O and 2day FM, because this story, in my humble teenage opinion, is far more disgusting and insulting than the Chasers team have ever been.

On perhaps a lighter note - it is fantastic that the girl in question is receiving counselling, and that 2day FM has offered to foot the bill. Hopefully it will shine a spot light onto the issue of rape - indeed rape involving people as young as twelve - and spark a national discussion. But at the expensive of a public confession, with possible untold psychological damage? That's a tough call to make.

There are so many more dimensions to this issue that I have barely touched upon, and I am aware of this. Please, feel free to comment any criticism, alternative views, additional information, or just an addition to the above commentary.

EDIT@ 7:15pm 31 July 2009
A reader has just bought the following article to my attention:
http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,25860085-5012974,00.html

PRIME Minister Kevin Rudd last night joined a chorus of community leaders speaking out against the "humiliation" and "abuse" of a 14-year-old girl during a controversial stunt on The Kyle And Jackie O Show.

I apologise for missing this originally. I did perform a search of the ABC news website (a source which I trust a little more highly than the Herald Sun :P) and did not find any mention of Rudd in regards to this issue.

Understanding...not just insurance

There are so many things in life. Human life. So many. Those undefinable links between them. Are they socially constructed...or embedded, decided from our birth, written in the Bible with DNA ink...?

Complexity.

The undecided plethora of choices unanswered. A mess of lines and crosses. Or an organised interconnectedness of the status quo? A mass transit system. A to B. Remember to pass go. Collect your 200 dollars. Feed it to the vicious cycle vending machine of capitalism. Kick it when it fails to give the change that is inevitable.

Though through this, simplicity does not depart. It exists in a complex and convoluted embodiment, simple in one eye...simple, yet different in the other. But can it be seen with both?

The flesh beneath the skin is surely just that. Switch the lens, see it with both. Mitosis of emotions - one become two, two become four, four become eight, eight becomes sixteen - until the numbers become meaningless. A scientifically explainable process, mathematically patterned - but is that really the only way?

It starts with a feeling, made into two, then multiplied. Multiplied by two.

It must be hard to be the number two. Knowing that life is resting on your shoulders. A couple. A pair. An item. The power of two.

Emotions to infinity - a meaningless and inexplicable mess. Except with the rationality of mathematics.

Humans are irrational. QED?

Then how can they produce the rationality of science.

It cannot be the only way.

Trust.

The forgotten product of a bygone future. What does that even mean? Trust.

The answer is trust.

The answer is always trust.

Do you trust me? That's the only way to a whole new world...a wondrous place...for you and me.

Trust...blind faith in the ever pursued myth of egalitarianism...?

The art of trust and the art of deceit...synonymous, or the antonym that so many of us would like to believe that it is?

Knowing when to lie. To maintain trust. Why is it the answer must always be trust?

I would not lie to keep your faith blind.
We do not trust each other, therefore we love each other.

Trust. When to lie, when to be honest. When to smile, when to deny. When to hold on, when to let them fly.




What is the answer to nothingness? Trust.

Trust is the answer to everything.

Vagueness.

Raises more questions than it answers. Ones hidden thoughts. Those thoughts which are buried...uncovered by a shovel of uncertainty

A helpful means of expressing one's deepest regrets. One's sorest emotions. Maintaining one's ambiguity. Remaining hidden behind your mask of walls. Too scared to put them into the light.

Alas, not too scared. Too aware to put them into the light. The light pales their glow. They are not that which can be thrown unceremoniously into the public arena. They are too precious.

Their glow must remain.














No one really understands the words on the page. But they read them. And relate.

Don't dis my ability.

Disclaimer that I feel is necessary for the following blog:

I am fully aware of where my injury sits and readily acknowledge that my view is based solely upon my own experience and injury.

***

Disabled.

Interesting word that one. It's one of those words that mean very different things to different people. It's full of associations, images, words, actions, and assumptions.

I think we should start with a look at the word. "Dis" a prefix that denotes the opposite of the suffix "abled".

So what we have here is a word that means not-abled. In the context of the word, its generally used to label someone who is disadvantaged in relation to the "normal" person. For example, someone who has one leg, or no arms, or senses that do not function "correctly". It also covers intellectual disabilities - not being able to think in the same way as "normal" people, not being able to fully integrate with society.

The term is based inherently in the idea that there is a way that we should be - dictated by a majority that appears to fit this mould of "normal".

I feel its a word born from ignorance, from people never labelled "disabled". The perception is one of misunderstanding, one that does not take into account what it is like to be "disabled". It appears to treat "disabilities" as something unfortunate, an illness, accompanied by the unfulfillable desire to be normal.

I think a little background is necessary here to understand the personal experience my opinion is based upon.

I was born under conditions that resulted in a moderate to severe injury to my brachial plexus. In layman's terms - a nerve damage to my right arm. It means that I have limited use of my right arm. It affected my hand and wrist the most resulting in fine motor skills at near zero accompanied by reduced sensation. This is not the worst injury one could harbour, and that's not the point I'm trying to make.

My point is that a disability is, in many ways, an ability.

Life with two functioning arms would fundamentally change who I am. My construction of self has its foundations in my inability to use my arms in the same way everyone else did. As a baby, I never crawled, but developed a kind of scoot, where I propelled myself along the ground on my bum with a combination of hand and leg movements. I developed ways to play just like everyone else - as far as I was concerned everything about me was perfectly normal. I've known no other life. Sure, I couldn't swing on the monkey bars, and took a little longer to climb, but I could swing, paint, and play with play-dough, and talk. As I grew older I found ways to express myself so that my arm did not limit me at all. I use a laptop, I play a euphonium instead of a flute, I have a knob on my steering wheel.

It never concerned me much that I was different. It defined me. I am proud - I like people asking about my arm and I enjoy talking about it, in the same way anyone would like to talk about their defining moments and features. It means that people acknowledge there is something different and unique about me.

I hate people being scared to ask. It implies that they feel I may be sensitive. Which to me, is highlighting that there is something different about me, and that they feel I should be concerned about that difference.

Which brings me back to one of my previous points. That the term "disability" is born from a lack of understanding. It implies that being disabled means that you have an unfulfillable desire to be normal.

Read that bold part closely. There are two distinct groups in that statement. The normal, and the "abnormal". It gives rise to sympathy and pity - disabled.

I do not need sympathy. I do not wish to be normal. What I need is for people to understand my injury, and the limitations that it posses to me, and then to help me modify so that I can accomplish tasks to the best of my physical ability. Curiosity is the first step to understanding what it means to be disabled.

I'm sick of the high and mighty "able-bodied" people thinking are the flag bearers in the noble quest to defend the disabled.

There was an article on the ABC news website today about a fundraiser that had been cancelled. A bunch of primary school students decided to have a "dress up as someone with a disability day". Now yes, there are something things wrong with that. But it had potential. I am all for kids having a "come to school with a pretend physical disability day" and seeing what its like being in a wheel chair, or wearing earmuffs to see what its like being deaf. It leads to greater understanding.

There were a series of comments the article, however, that really made me angry. The main one that nearly made my blood boil was from this lady, calling herself Karen:

I do not blame the children - they pick up on the perceived ideas and attitudes from the adults around them.
At the end of the day my son cannot take off his disability and slip into something a bit more comfortable. Awareness of those with disabilities is not about clothes or appearances. AND IT IS NOT ABOUT POLITICAL CORRECTNESS. It is about treating others with dignity and respect and acknowledging that despite appearances we are all the same.

She was referring to above comments that suggested what I was suggesting - that it would be a great idea for kids to understand disabilities by experiencing them.

It perfectly highlights exactly what I have been saying. She is defending the disabled, and trying to imply that they WANT to be able to "slip into something a little more comfortable". She is perpetuating the implications of a word that misrepresents that which it is trying to represent. Disabled people are NOT, as Karen would like to thing, the same as the "abled".

By trying to treat the disabled as the same you are restricting them in a way that they do not want to be restricted. Sure, they cannot do certain things - but they are able to do many other things - and that's what they want - to do what they can and bugger everyone else.

And that is what they want other people to understand.

All I want is to be able to participate to the best of my ability.











All I want is to be allowed to play on the swings, instead of longingly watching my peers swing on the monkey bars.

Social Justice - Advancing Australia's Fairness.

First up, I'd like to direct your collective eyes up this page to the top. Notice my shiny new title image?

"Wow Chris, since when were you talented?"

Answer: I'm not. Full credit goes to Adam who writes far more entertaining posts on his blog. I suggest skipping mine completely and just reading his instead.

***

Now to those readers that I have left I bring you today's post, with a nice little introduction. I know that current affairs commentary isn't something that I generally blog here. There are plenty of people out there doing that.

Actually, come to think of it, there are plenty of people writing the kind of stuff that I normally write...so it kind of nullifies that argument.

Regardless, today I am going to discuss a topic that I have been following since it began, and have previously written about. (Not on my blog - it was an editorial piece for my writer's workshop class - copies are available to anyone interested, just leave a comment).

So...here goes. Nick D'Arcy - once more you are in my sights.

***

Its not quite a year after the infamous event that lost D'Arcy his international swimming career, and his chance at Olympic gold. For those who may have forgotten Im going to do a cut and paste from my previous writing to summarise what occurred - as best as media sources will allow.

You’ve heard the story about Nick D’Arcy, no doubt. He had a few to drink. His drinking buddy, Simon Cowley, told him to “tone down his bragging” - as the Herald Sun reported - and so Mr D’Arcy elbowed him in the face. Cowley suffered fractures in his jaw, eye sockets, hard palate, cheekbone and nose, requiring extensive surgery to insert five titanium plates into his face. Pretty hefty blow. D’Arcy’s punishment? The Australian Olympic Committee has said that he will not be attending this year’s Beijing Olympics.

So, it was an unprovoked attack, or at least thats how it was presented - though recently it has come to light that he was "slapped" by Cowley. And apparently D'Arcy punched him. Whether this slap occured or not and whether it was a punch is irrelevant, as far as I'm concerned. I'm ready to get on my high horse and condemn the situation.

What we have here is a violent outbreak that has physically and mentally damaged a fellow human being, and indeed a fellow swimmer. And I do not think that is something we should tolerate in our society no matter how drunk the person happens to be. Drunkeness is not an excuse for damaging incidents. You make a decision to drink - you deal with the consequences.

Now what has bought this topic back to my attention? Well, our wonderful Nick has had his sentence passed. He attained a suspended sentence, meaning he's been found guilty but escapes a jail term so long as he is on his very bestest behaviour. So no more punching for Nick or he goes to prison.

I think he was very lucky to escape a jail sentence. But I'll stick with the court's decision. They know a hell of a lot more about in than I ever will. We can't trust the media to not put a spin on things.

But there has something that has really made me angry about the whole situation.

In news today Swimming Australia annouced that D'Arcy would not be competing in the World Championships in Rome - despite qualifying at the Australian Championships.

And people think that Swimming Australia is in the wrong here.

A comment published on the Herald Sun article reporting this development - there were a number arguing the same sort of thing - this was the best expressed, however:

The decision to ban Nick D'arcy from the swimming team is deeply concerning. It suggests that decisions in law and sentence in law is not sufficient. All Australians should be concerned that a person charged and convicted in a court of law can be required to face additonal consequences beyond the structure and limits offered by the legal system. Those who support ongoing punishment would lead us all away from the objectivity of the legal system.

"Jan Anderson"

I disagree entirely with the sentiments expressed by Ms Anderson here. Law plays a vital role in ensuring justice is withheld in the community - but it is not, and never will be, the only role in justice. Many comments expressed similar sentiments "his done the time", "he's paid his debt" and "shouldn't be punished further". At first I found these arguments compelling. He's been sentenced, and punished by the courts, leave him be. But lets pull back for a second.

I work in a knife shop. If I commit a crime - regardless of its severity - my employer has every right to sack me, no matter how good I am at my job. If I have a criminal record, I will be punished beyond the law by society. It's a black mark against my name, and its something that I would sure as hell have to live with.

It's called social justice.

It isnt a matter of whether Nick D'Arcy is a fantasic and talented swimmer, and that he has already be punished by law. He has commited a crime and in doing so he has tarnished his name, he has recieved a black mark. Swimming Australia is well within their rights to say "We don't want him."

And I'm well within my rights as a citizen of the country he seeks to represent to say: "I don't want him - he is not what I want representing my nation."

That is something he will have to learn to live with.

The blinking orange taskbar.

Dear Internet,

I know that you and I have been friends for a very long time. We became friends about the same time I became close with my BFF. "How unusual!" you may exclaim - but I do not think so, dear Internet, I do not.

For you see, you were perhaps the reason - or at the very least the catalyst - for many of my friendships. I could bore you for hours with my recollections of all the good times and bad that we shared, but I shan't - because I also have to entertain my audience. Not that I don't love you or anything. I adore you, I cherish you, I wish to spend a portion of each and every day with you, exploring the intimate folds of your extensive knowledge, asking advice, securing definitions. You are, dearest Internet, one of the reasons for my happiness today.

We've shared our mutual evolution - from the lowly days where YouTube was just some site, and MSN was actually called MSN - back in the days of Pentium fours, the Sims1, and ADSL1. From the days where I couldn't talk to the girls I wanted to, the days where the small actions of teenage life seemed gigantic and dramatic, the days where I was blissfully ignorant of the realities of the real world, and the beauty of the written word. The days when I said "wud" "culd" "2" "lmao" "jks" "yea" and "luv". We've blogged together on and off for the past four years, through different medium - MSN spaces, MySpace, Bebo, and now I've settled for the uncomplicated blogger.

My dear internet - you gave me the confidence to talk to girls, to embrace myself, and to express my thoughts. You've trained my written skills, and honed my social skills. You yourself have grown to heights that I could not have dreamed of, blossomed in ways I never imagined. Wikipedia, YouTube, Facebook. I've never been prouder of you. You bring people closer.

Yet you are constantly hounded by people who don't understand you, don't revel in the complexities and vastness that you represent, laugh and dismiss the social opportunities you provide as antisocial and incomprehensive. I can almost understand them - touch and warmth are as important as words and knowledge - you cannot be my whole life, but you can be an integral part.

And as we've grown, my dear friend, in a way we've gone our separate ways. I have matured, recognised the value of intimate association, far from the faceless monitor, with the blinking orange taskbar. And you continue to raise the adolescents of our time, with your limitless potential. So though we're drifting, please let me say - I have no doubt that we will still be friends. You've had such a huge part in making me that I could never let you go.

And as our roads diverge, perchance, I wish to let you know.

My dearest Internet. I love you. I always will.

May we run together down life's paths - converging as we please.


With adoration and undying gratitude,
Your dear friend,
Christopher.

Simply complex it all its simplicity

So.

I spent this week starting uni.

It's a pretty cool place, but I don't really want to chat about that.

No, today I wish to speak of something that I was presented with in my sociology lecture.

Apart from my lecturer having a wonderful Scottish accent (or is it Irish...I'll listen more closely tomorrow), he also has an obsession with this cartoon that he discovered, the "understandascope" by Leunig. It's a great cartoon that one would imagine being in the AST - you know describe and interpret the following picture.


Image Source: http://www.adm.monash.edu.au/advancement/assets/images/understandascope.jpg

He was talking about perspective, how one views the world, and how important it is to realise that each of us views the world through a different lens. Not entirely a new concept, but he expressed it well.

We all seek to understand the world - and wish that we had something similar to the understandascope, something that we could look through that would somehow make everything clearer. But here is the irony of the picture - we seek to understand the world, and and would love to have an understandascope, yet the understandascope itself is flawed, due to it being only one lens, in one place, in one society, in one world.

This one cartoon expresses and highlights the complexity of human nature with almost childlike simplicity.

Which perhaps raises another irony.

Are complexities really that simple to grasp?

And does that make them, in essence, simple?

Hmmm.

“Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves."

-Carl Gustav Jung

Would it be ironic if you printed this?

So I recently got a new computer, right? And its wonderful, and fantastic and all that mushy junk.

And we have a few computers in our house, and they are all networked, and the printer is connected to the "main" computer, which needs to be on before any other user can print. And the main computer is slow.

And so printing takes far longer and is far more inconvenient than it really needs to be.

So I think to myself "Printers are pretty cheap these days, just go pick yourself up one and connect it to your shiny new".

WRONG.

Printers come with EVERYTHING now. You can only get multifunctions. Okay, I lie, you can get regular normal plain old printers.

BUT THEY COST MORE THAN MULTIFUCTIONS.

So why don't I get a multifunction?

BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE THE ROOM FOR THE GIGANTIC HEAP OF HYDROCARBON MANURE.

I have said it once.

I have said it twice.

I have said it many, many times.

And after this experience my resolve was further hardened.

I.
Despise.
Printers.

Now I know that you are all thinking, "Wow, despise Chris? Isn't that language a little harsh?" But I beg to differ with every fibre in my being.

I realise that printers are hideously useful tools - they paperise (yes, paperise, got a problem with that verb?) stuff on your computer, which makes it easier to read and archive in hard copy. They let you stick things on walls, and give yourself paper cuts.

But its this usefulness that is the downfall of the humble printer.

One NEEDS a printer.

And the printers know this, yes they do.

The printers know how much you need them.

"What the hell Chris, they are inanimate objects for goodness sake..."

NO. I REFUSE TO ACKNOWLEDGE THAT THEIR INSOLENCE IS RANDOM MECHANICAL FAULT. THEY KNOW.

"You have mice that connect in the same ways, and you also need them, but you don't hate them"

THAT'S BECAUSE THEY AREN'T EVIL.

Maybe that is too harsh.

Yes, it is. Maybe printers are merely insecure. They need to be reassured of their usefulness, they need to know that their work is needed. But everyone needs that every so often.

Printers, however, go about this in entirely the wrong way.

They do it by stuffing up at vital moments. They do it by constantly needing more paper. They do it by running out of ink. They do it by refusing to talk to the computer, or the network.

THEY DO IT BY BEING WANKY PIECES OF HIGHLY INSECURE PLASTIC.

AND THAT MAKES ME HATE THEM.

AND NOW THEY HAVE TEAMED UP WITH SCANNERS AND PHOTOCOPIES IN ORDER TO BE EVEN MORE USEFUL AND EVEN MORE FRUSTRATING BECAUSE THERE ARE SUDDENLY THREE TIMES THE NUMBER OF THINGS THAT CAN GO WRONG. NEVER MIND ABOUT BEING THREE TIMES THE SIZE AND THREE TIMES AS INSECURE.

So I leave you with a message, my dear readers.

When you are feeling a little insecure and need some reassurance.

Don't. Be. A. Printer.

"I didn't fail the test. I just found 100 ways to do it wrong"

-Benjamin Franklin

Street Corners

She was standing, staring at a busy city street. Her eyes roved around the area, searching, then they flicked to her watch. She was late, but that didn't concern her in the slightest. She was content to procrastinate. The young woman was thinking - thinking about street corners. She didn't really know why - it wasn't something that she thought about very often, nor was it a particularly interesting thought topic, it was just what she was thinking about.

Street corners seem to have negative connotations, she mused. Why? Was it Americanised stereotype - the references to drug deals and hookers? It must be - I can't think of any other way that street corners could be sinister. They are where the lights are put, where the traffic is directed from, where the green man tells you when its safe to walk. If anything street corners should be held in a positive light...

The city's surroundings swirled around in bustle of noise. Hissing - rubber on bitumen and stopping buses. Yells - street vendors and angry motorists. Growls - idling engines and exhausting fans. Lights changed from green to red, and the growling engine noise doubled - only to be relieved by the change from red to green - and the opposite line of traffic raced off in a cough of greenhouse gas.

The young lady still stood, now staring intently at the corner of the intersection where a crowd of teens had stopped, perhaps waiting for the anonymous green man. A small joking push was all it took.

The streets squealed and ground to a halt.

Screams.
Panicked whispers.
Car doors slam.
Racing footfalls on concrete.
Raised voices from commanding onlookers.
Distant piercing whirl of rushing sirens.

The young woman stood stiff, neck craining, shock flowing through fear laden veins, rushing in time with her frantic heart.

The teens stood pale on the opposite corner, comforting each other, sobbing painfully - framed by a bloodied bus, and hysterical communters.

Tense silence took hold of the rigid scene - all eyes focussed on the paramedics trying desperately to revive the limp teen.

***

The lady glanced at her watch. She took a final glance at the tragic street corner, wrenched her eyes from the dramatic final act of the boys life.

Her heels clicked away briskly from the street corner - punctuating the return of the ceaseless city noise.

Aussie Aussie Aussie! Oi Oi ...Oi.

Blogging while at work.

An excellent use of time that makes you look engaged and not bored?

Or a gross misuse of company services for personal means?

I think I'm going to go the latter - but its a public holiday, the store is clean, there are no customers, and to those that are walking past in the centre look in and see that I am enthralled and typing into the computer - no doubt typing a highly important email about a bulk sale of Leatherman waves.

But little do they know!

***

As many of you will know today is Australia Day. Like every other public holiday - I think it means many different things to many different people, but perhaps its more so with a day like today.

For some it means the end of a long journey to citizenship, the day where they finally can say - with pride and honesty - they are Australian, and their children are Australian, and their children's children.

To the natives of this land, many view it as "invasion day" the day where their "world fell apart" - as the Australian of this year...or last year...preached to a nation.

Perhaps for others still it just means a public holiday - a day that they don't have to go to work, and can sit back and relax with the kids, or have a barbie, or a beer. Or, on the opposite side of that coin - it means double time and a half pay and casuals can't wait to be at work.

To many others its a day of indifference. Ones that whine because the shops are only open 10-4, or that restaurants use it as an excuse to be closed.

And others still, like myself, see it as a day to look back, reflect on, and celebrate the discovery of the great southern land by the English, and the eventual birth of a nation. Every time I leave Australian, I come back thinking how wonderful it is to be able to call Australia home - call myself Australian. There is something about the unique flora and fauna that we take for granted is so enticing to me. Those dull greens and browns of our gum trees - perhaps unattractive to those used to the vivid greens of European bushes, and the tranquil beauty of Japanese gardens - something so out of the ordinary that its difference makes it startlingly beautiful. The bizarre evolutionary twists that Australia is renowned for, animals like the Platypus, which people thought was an elaborate hoax, to the Kangaroo's perfect bouncing and balancing act. The blue haze that settles over distant mountains, and the rolling roar of coastal beaches.

Yes - I'm a sucker for the sun burnt country, but I'm little tentative when it comes to praising Australian society. Pictures of the Cronulla race riots still run through my head. Cronulla, one of the beaches that Australia is famous for - sweeping sand and breaking waves - is now a place where the mere mention of the name leaves a bitter taste. And it was all in the name of Australia, there was even an Australian flag in the pictures. Australia - the sunburnt, multicultural, yet hideously racist country. There is the alcohol fueled violence, and the rude and abrasive nature of many, all of which to a certain degree seem almost excusable - as part of our 'lovable' cultural persona.

On the same token I feel Australia is maturing as a country. Our higher educational facilities are amongst the best in the world. Our health system - though a little unhealthy in places - is applying state of the art technologies. Our economy, though crippled by the global crisis, hasn't gone the way of American and the UK and fallen into recession.

Australia has talent that breaks into markets around the world. In the literary scene Australian writers such as Tim Winton, John Marsden, Hannie Rayson and Kate Grenville have achieved remarkable domestic success - the former two have achieved international acclaim. Australian sports people are held in high regard around the world. Australian musicians are being exported to the world, and our animation companies have produced global success stories such as Happy Feet. Much of our television has also been exported, the two most notable examples that I can think of off the top of my head - Neighbours and Thank God You're here.

The nation has come a long way since the First Fleet landed on this strange outcrop between two great oceans. In fact, its even become a nation. We have room to improve, space to mature, and problems to face domestically and internationally. From our humble beginnings as a colony of the British empire we have become a player on the international scene. And though we aren't perfect, we've built a country with much to be proud of.

So let's not make this day a day of indifference.

Let's make it a day to not only 'celebrate what's great,' but also a day to acknowledge whats not so great and look to the future of our land down under and how it can and should be shaped.








...Now where is that republic I've been looking for?


"And he sang and he watched and waited 'til his billy boiled...you'll come a-waltizing matilda with me"

-Waltzing Matilda, Banjo Patterson

The broken wire fence

So apparently, now that I have nothing better to do with my life, I have started to write rather more than is usual for me. Which is a good thing, because I haven't really done much of it for six months now, and I'm a little rusty with the pen.

Funny really - that phrase is starting to feel obsolete as I tap away at my shiny new keyboard.

However I still love picking up the pen (the actual pen - not the metaphorical pen of the keyboard) and taking out my note book and having a bit of a scribble. Doodle. Scrawl. Oh thats a word that I haven't used in a very long time...

Point being that the following piece is just an sample of the kind of thing that I write as spur of the moment kind of things - when I do pick up my shiny blue parker pen that is looking rather worse for wear after having been used for an entire year, which is amazing because normally I only ever have pens for about a term before I lose them - most of the time they are just descriptions of what I see around me at certain times, with an un-named and vague character popped in.

***

Taking stock, he gazed over the quiet school yard. It was midday on a Tuesday - the place should have been filled with the ramble of noise from hundreds of teens. In the distance a crow projected its mournful cry, as rain-filled clouds faded the summer sunshine. Vivid reflections of colourful graffiti shone in the numerous puddles that were pooled haphazrdly upon the aging bitumen of the basketball courts.

The stillness of the air relaxed him as he gazed at the broken wire fence of the raggard tennis courts. Sighing he settled against a scrawny tree.

Finally, this was the end.

***

I have lots of little things like that floating around. Sometimes just in thoughts - and I flesh them out when I feel like it. Many of them are scribbled on paper here and there. Every so often I take one and base a short story on it...or a blog...or whatever takes my fancy.

Most of the time, however, they sit there forgotten. Half-finished inspiration that will never reach its true potentional.

But is that really a problem?


"The worst part is when sidewalk cracks are out-of-sync with your natural stride."

-xkcd

Lets hope its a good one

So as we head into a new year, its a time for me to look back at the year previous, and celebrate not just the future on this windy new year's day, but the past, and all that it has contributed to the present tense of my life.

For all its faults I enjoyed 2008. Rather a lot actually.

2008 saw me delete my bebo, myrandomnessdomain (for those who remember it), make a facebook, decide that I hate social networking, and then made myself a blog. I think the latter of these choices was the best. I missed blogging.

But, contrary to what many of you will think, my 2008 life didn't just revolve around little places on the internet that I like to call my own - infact 2008 saw me achieve a plethoria of wonderous things.

• I saw Nightwish live in concert. I maintain that there is almost nothing like seeing and hearing your favourite band played live.

• I completed year 12 - with flying colours which I could only have imagined two years ago.

• I gained an appreciation for poetry and literature, the former of which I loathed 12 months ago.

• I improved my writing skills - and writing now stands as one of my favourite methods of communication.

• I learnt to commit.

• I became legally recognised as an adult in Australian society.

• I had a voice in ACT politics for the very first time.

• I went clubbing thinking that I would loathe it with a passionate vengence. Now I love it.

• I applied for university.

• I held onto a relationship for five or so months. Go figure.

• I travelled to Japan with one of the greatest groups of people that I could have.

• I gained further experience of being behind a counter, and not just in front.

• I saved up all year and bought my own computer.

• I learnt to appreciate the people that surround me everyday (go figure, Christopher, for all his whinging in previous years actually misses seeing the group at school. Also I tried to make that less clicheish, but then I couldnt be bothered).

• I travelled to Melbourne with my two best friends and discovered the wonder of hot towels.

• Also I beat Daniel and Mitch. Twice.

• I completed maths methods major. And still could have UC with the scores I achieved (seriously!)

But 2008 also saw a number of goodbyes to things that were a constant in my life - some for years.

• I said goodbye to the ACT Instrumental Music Program - who were an integral part of my life for eight years.

• I said goodbye to public education - which was my life for 13 years.

• I said goodbye to Canberra College, and the teachers who helped develop and shape my ways of thinking.

• And I said goodbye to childhood.

But hey, now that its over, we move into 2009, my first full year as an adult. The year that I hopefully start uni, and see what develops from there!


To everyone out there I wish you the very best for two thousand and nine.



"As our lives change, some forever, we will still be friends forever"

-That really corny vitamin C graduation song
that I only listen to because it has
pachabels cannon and
I happen to like
that song.