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.

Closer

As their laughs faded into the stillness of the night silence filled the void left behind. The two teenagers lay side by side on the oval - the smell of freshly mown grass lingering. At first the silence was merely a break in their conversation, a full stop after a particularly complex sentence. The dark clouds drifted overhead as the silence became ever more prolonged, an ellipsis after a sentence - the three dots leading into the unknown.

The boy and girl embraced the silence, happy enough to lie together in their own thoughts, contented knowing that they were in each others. Headlights swept over the oval as a car drove past in the distance - the two friends exchanged a smile, amused by the bizarre situation that they had found themselves in. The gaze held - a thoughtful moment as each tried to glean what the other was thinking. Another smile later their eyes were once more focused skyward on the clouds that hid the elusive stars - a softly spoken parallel between the thinly veiled feelings of the two young people.

This was not the first time the two had found themselves drawn together in such a situation - both were comfortable enough with each other to know exactly where things like this could end up. The night drew ever more still as frigid hands crept closer, their fingers meeting softly, before pulling each other in. With their hands together they broke the silence, and the gentle back and forth resumed - dotted with laughter and flirtatious grins.

They were sharing warmth - so absorbed in each other that they did not notice the devious explorations from the fingers of cold. The two young friends grew evermore daring with their flirtations as minutes grew into hours. Their interlocked fingers played silent games. Still talking their faces reached toward each.

Closer...

Closer...

Closer.

Their lips met, but whispered thoughts still leapt between the two until finally they gave into the pull of mutual affection, losing themselves in the moment of contact. The clouds drifted overhead - and the once illusive stars peaked through...gazing down on the two close friends embracing each other.

Too far gone.

Lisa Mitchell (Too Far Gone) - "I wonder if you dig me too."

_______________________

Now that is just one of those expressions that I have never really understood:

"I dig those new shoes"

WHAT?

You would like to get a shovel out and "dig" them?

They look like dirt?

Those shoes make me want to dig a hole for them, so that I can bury them and never see them again?

***

And then you apply it to an actual person:

"I dig you."

"You...you what? You want to dig me? What does that even mean...which orifice are you digging? What are you digging with? ...I don't think I like you anymore..."


Thus I conclude.

Dig is an ugly and unhelpful word if you are attempting to inform someone that you feel positively about something or someone.

***

Diglet, however, was always one of my favourite Pokemon.





It was because I could actually draw it.