An Unlikely Reflection

It’s a dark and windy night, and yet doesn’t feel in the least bit sinister. I guess maybe it’s because in all the horror movies I’ve ever seen, as the suspense builds, the editing tightens, the music that is swelling is not “In the Navy” by the Village people. Great, one cliché stereotype down…several more to go.

Well, as this is sortof like the weather you get at the beginning of a movie (though not a very good one I’ll wager, maybe something along the Lines of Ed Wood though without the cross-dressing or the freakiness…which is pretty much the entire movie, so maybe forget that whole comparison and move on) it seems that this would be a fitting time for a reflection of some kind. Fantastic. The idea’s there, now all I need is something to reflect on. In the films they never have this problem. Whether the protagonists life is anything ranging from inane to unrealistically dramatic (which, for some odd reason is always the most realistic) they can always immediately launch into some anecdote, which will inevitably lead to three things: 1) someone crying, 2) a love interest of some kind, and 3) (usually) some sort of situation where everyone is chasing after everyone else, either by running, or in cars…or on unicycles…and it is guaranteed that somewhere in there, there will be chickens.

But all of this is rather ambitious…and I am still at a loss as to what I should reflect on. The past year? I’ve been brainwashed by Maths to such an extent that when I open my pencil case, I automatically get my calculator out, without even giving it a thought. This is strange and unnatural, and chances are high that you will never see something like that happen to someone in a movie, because, simply it is not realistic…

This brings me to a point. I didn’t have one initially, but I figured that if I just kept typing, something would jump out at me. Reality. Or, more specifically, what is realistic. I thought I had a pretty good grasp of what is realistic, and what isn’t. What the movies portray is a strange form of reality. It could happen, but it’s unlikely. Some people, while watching a film ( usually while other people are around…) like to point at the screen, and say “that is so unrealistic.” And fair enough, most of the time, what happens on the screen is so far fetched, you are more likely to have your winning lottery ticket struck by lightning, then have your life emulate that of a flawless movie character. But when we say, “unrealistic” what are we actually trying to tell people? We are comparing what we see on film, to what we experience every day, we are drawing a clear distinction between that, and our own lives. (just typed liver…and yet, still makes grammatical sense...interesting…) Or at least we think we are. In reality WE ARE NOT. Just think of some of the things that happen to us, that are just so wack, random and unlikely.

Bowling balls bouncing out of the gutter, and back into the pins. When you’re thinking or talking about someone, and they walk past or bump into them (“first week back, guess who bumped into me”…grrr.) ok maybe that’s not such a great example, but nothings really springing to mind, but I know that strange, unlikely things have happened, more strange than things you would see in a movie, and I have no doubt whatsoever, if someone were to film them, present them as a movie to people who had never met you, they would have no hesitation before pointing and proclaiming those inescapable words “that’s unlikely!”

So, I said I had a point…it was heaps clear before, and now I’ve confused myself, so now, the point has forked into two directions:
1) Life is stranger than fiction – you couldn’t write some of the things we experience in these strange, teenage years…
2) Nothing is “unlikely” in the conventional sense of the word – it looks better when I have a comment here…

Anyways, though we can statistic things to death…weird things will still happen. Life is more interesting than movies!

This is the part where everyone holds hands and runs off into the sunset, laughing and grinning idiotically, then we snap back into the present, where the protagonist is sitting at his/her typewriter ((getting a really “Series of Unfortunate Events” vibe here…that would make me Jude Law…hmm)) smiling to themselves, as they take the last page of the manuscript out, and look at it reflectively…

What they wouldn’t do/say is:

I don’t run…I HURTLE

The Elusive True Base

Mathematics. It’s everywhere. Thought it may appear in many different fiendish disguises, calculus, trigonometry, statistics, hypothesis modelling…the all-time favourite: Pythagoras, and serve many purposes, such as running this computer and making the internet usable, at the heart of all the complication, it the base ten number system. So, why do we have ten numbers in a series? 1-10, 11-20, 21-30? It would work just as well with any number, so why was 10, just another integer, selected to be this all important thingummy? Through all its complication, at the root of it all, our entire mathematics system is based upon the number of fingers we have. So, it would seem, that had we not 10 fingers (and DON’T get into the “thumbs are not fingers” arguments…I’ve had that argument more times than…well, 10) maths may have been based upon a completely different digit…but was it what we really wanted?

Now, it’s not as though any of us have ever sat down and said “wouldn’t it be jolly smashing if we had a number system with a base other than ten?” because, other than the fact that it’s not a very interesting chain of thought, to quote so many debates ranging from year 6 to Senior B – “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” There’s nothing wrong with having a base ten number system, but slowly it has begun to dawn on me that, though somewhat subtly, the human race seems to have an inherent preference for Another Number!

It seems, that for some unbeknownst reason, the Number 7, plays a large, if not equal to that of mathematics, role in Today’s Modern Society. Sound unlikely? Then explain why there are:
- The 7 World Wonders
- The 7 Deadly Sins
- 7 colours in a rainbow (though a bit dubious about Indigo)
- 7 music notes
- 7 dwarfs to accompany Snow White
- going to be 7 Harry potter books
- one for every year he is at Hogwarts double whammy with that one
- 7 days in a week
also why:
- 7 is the neutral pH
- Does one “sail the 7 seas”
- There are “7 brides for 7 brothers”
- Is there a classic series “The Secret 7”
- Is there a phrase for being unsettled in marriage after 7 years, known as “The 7 year itch”
- which is also the name of a movie featuring Marilyn Monroe yet another double whammy
- Do a lot of schools stop at year 7

Though other numbers do inevitably feature in the Grand Scheme Of Things, i.e. “The Famous 5,” etc. no other number seems to be as prominent as the Almighty 7, not even the All Powerful 10. So…is something trying to send us a message? That, it’s time to be rid of the order and logic of having an even number system, based upon fingers, and to embrace the chaos that would ensue from a base 7 number system? I think the answer is a resounding: no, Personally, I think it’s so popular purely because it is conveniently situated between 5 and 10.
So now, having just voided all my previous text, I’d like to firstly say: LOST, why do you do these things to me? Why can’t you just be over with?!?! and finally, trail off on a dramatic note, of which I have not yet thought of…

The Flaw in the Brilliant Y

The Y generation – we are the best at multi-tasking, procrastinating, and have an attention span of roughly 13 seconds…or so science tells us. But what makes us so different from the previous generations? Over the last 100 years, things have been changing really, really quickly. When compared to the entire human timeline, things are actually moving at a ridiculous rate. And why? Theories abound – the abolishment of the class systems, political upheavals, the cut down of the role that most monarchies play on the world stage…but I think it’s down to technology – and more to the point: television.

TV has been around for quite a few decades now, a fourties novelty, which has today become and indispensable household item, right up there with refrigeration and bathrooms…maybe not such a crash-hot idea to put those two things in the same sentence…anyways…so now we are about the second generation, where virtually all of us have grown up with it there, always in the background, a constant. From Miffy, the freaky rabbit with a mouth that’s looks like it’s been crossed out, to the “many delightful and daring escapades” of those crazy OC kids, we have grown up with it. There’s something for everyone.

But are we dependent? I’ll be the first to put my hand up and say a loud and resounding: “yes.” For the last few weeks, Saturday night has meant “Dr Who!” for six months, Tuesday meant OC, and when Monday rolled around, that was Desperate Housewives time. But now they are all finished, gone, for six months. When next Thursday comes around, not only will that mean the weekly pilgrimage to three hours of wonderment, it will also spell the end of Lost, and with that, it all ends. Where does that leave me? I have House, yes, but it doesn’t quite fill the gap. Besides, that’s not the point. The scary thing, is that there is a gap to fill. Television has become so ingrained into our lives, that when a part of it stops, or goes away, something which has incorporated itself into our weekly lives, it feels as though there is a gap.

What does one do with oneself on Tuesday evening, now that the OC has forsaken us? Once the homework is done (ah, but the homework is never done) you sit yourself down for a nice, long hour of…nothing. You could read…yeah, but there’s still something missing….msn can fill the gap for a while…but not forever…you could do some more homework, get ahead…no, not when you’ve just escaped…so on the TV goes, and after some frantic, yet bored (yes, us Y-genners are good at strange, contrasting expressions) channel surfing – there it is: the new gap filler…crisis averted. The temporary void in your life has been filled…at least for the next six months…

So, what exactly is it that I’ve already spent…wait…*presses a few buttons* 474 words trying to say?

Last night, I finished watching the Korean soap opera!

Oh strange is the life of a Y generation child

The Silent Epidemic

The symptoms include: fatigue, irritability, lowered brain capacity, and aggression. It is ongoing, will last for many years, and will happen to over 90% of our population in Australia. But the truly scary thing, if you’re reading this and are 15+ years old, then chances are that it’s happening to you right now at this very moment. I am of course talking about homework

Now don’t get me wrong, I appreciate having the opportunity to get an education, to “partake in the learning journey,” but the fact is, there are some aspects of it that are almost unbearable.

The week ends and everyone goes home for a rest: maybe sleep in, have a late breakfast, go shopping? Sounds like a good Saturday. Then, maybe on Sunday you can go see a movie, catch up with friends…why not stay up late, just for the hell of it. You could do that, but it wouldn’t be as fun as it sounds. Homework is never ending. Even when you’re not doing it, the guilt of it still hangs, ever looming, over your head, at the back of your mind. ( note: though grammatically correct, the image created by the last sentence is physically impossible ) and if you ever are lucky enough to be up to date, to have finished everything, you know, that it is only the end of the first wave, and when you enter battle, whoops, I meant “the school gates,” on Monday, the second line is standing in wait, ready to heap upon you the reams of work that are the foundations of teenage life. Before you know it, it’s Friday again, and after a week of stretching your brain beyond human capacity, and where you haven’t gotten to sleep before the witching hour for the past five days, you know that yet another guilt-laden weekend lies just at the end of the bus trip, the bridging gap between the homework zone, and the work environment.

“School days are the happiest,” or so the phrase goes. And, to a degree, this is true. For the most part, it’s great. I like the atmosphere, the people, the place itself. But there’s always something there, something niggling, like a sneeze that will never come. Maybe it’s because of the days where the work has built up so much, that you go to bed wishing, that when you wake up, you’ll have a cold, or a stomach ache, or just generally feel crap, just so you can sleep, and escape to that place where homework doesn’t rule your existence. Six hours or less, out of 24, where you are free…then you get out of bed, not really awake, and suddenly discover yourself amidst a biology test…hmm…

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve noticed that things have started to change at school. Not only the teachers, the students, and the “social hierarchy,” but our very language. Where mean once was a description of “nasty, horrible girl,” who stole your eraser, is now a term for the “average percentage of Mexican lyrebirds who consume over 30 000 smunklemuggets in an hour,” and is now represented by the letter “meu.” What was once “Art” is now “Hess G in some cases, but if you take this strain, it’s Hess R unless you perform a triple pirouette with pike.”

All the same, I don’t think I’d trade these years for anything. (that’s the brainwashing kicking in) Stick to your guns and you’ll get through this: Here’s to the SACE years! For nothing can be worse than inanimate objects!
Spare a thought for Christopher Eccleston, a truly fantastic Dr Who.

The L in Avocado

I have a strange compulsion. It’s not so much an impulse or an urge, more of an inherent need – as though if I don’t do it, the world will fall apart around me, and the elephants will finally make their move and seize control. So what is it? What could possibly be so incorrect, and yet so unavoidable? Picture this: you’re writing a school assignment/email/shopping list, and it comes to the point where you have to write it, the word itself, avocado…on the surface of it, it seems simple, ordinary, not sinister in the least, but if this is truly the case, then why do I always spell it “AVOLCADO” ??? There has never been an “L” in avocado. There has never been a need to have an “L” in avocado. So why do I always see fit to put it there? It’s mind boggling. It causes alienation of a perfectly good word, and strikes fear in the hand of those (well, me…because I’m sure you can all spell it) writing it. Wow, now I can finally understand what it would be like to be one of “the Knights who say “Ni!””

I said It! Oh I said It again! You said It!!!

Lament of Fruit

Today was a day of cold winds, fruit conspiracies, limericks, pigtails, pizza pizza pizza pizza (and no, thats not blatent enthusiasm...it's how many pieces I had...), “happiness is…”, and rusty scouring pads. So what does that mean exactly? CLAN BIRTHDAY! (though I’d wager that the fruit conspiracy and scouring pad thing may have thrown you a bit) All but three of the above were to celebrate yet another year of existence of the glorious clan Cameron (previously Wallace, but changed due to “unavailability of tartan.”)

It began today with the assembly. No wait, scratch that. Actually it began with the pigtails. Yes, at heart I am a sweet, Dorothy-esque, pigtail-wearing, Wizard of Oz escapee…or not. All the same, it’s clan birthday! Whatever my hair looks like, it can’t possibly be more amusing than me attempting to say “dude.” Having purchased new sash to replace the previous one, which seems to have drifted off into the abyss, we headed off to assembly, where Sally and I were strategically placed near the only open door in the hall!!! After a rip-roaring time of hellz-a-poppin fun (thank you Dylan Moran) those of us so inclined plodded off to Biology. NEW CONSPIRACY! Brace yourselves because this may come as a shock, but we, the superior race on earth, masters of electricity, wearers of shoes (though, this statement can also apply to horses…and v. pampered lap-dogs…hmmm…) and users of umbrellas, are being exploited by F R U I T. May I have a moment to say: Didn’t see that one coming. We’ve had movies like “Planet of the Apes”, “The Time Machine,” “Cats and Dogs,” “The Faculty”…even that Simpson’s episode where the dolphins force the humans into the sea and take over the earth, but fruit??? Where were you on that one Spielberg? It would seem, that fruit – clever, cunning, fruit – is a trick to make animals and humans alike into helping the corresponding plants to propagate the earth, by making us eat the eat the fruit, then deposit the seeds somewhere, allowing a new, F2 generation of the plant to develop…we are being used! However, there seems to be a hint of, possibly unintentional, resistance. We have been taught to throw our rubbish away, lest we be labelled a “litter bug.” Fruit: Biodegradable, yes, but force of habit is stronger than rational thought, so all it’s clever plotting and planning, literally goes straight in the bin. Points to the human race, oblivious to the threat, but still inadvertently protecting ourselves…should we be worried about the lack of awareness, or proud of our instincts?

The truly scary thought however, is that fruit is not an inanimate object. It is a living thing. So does this mean that “the network” is branching out? (a branching network…whaddayaknow?) Is it aware of the PAIOC plan and starting to gather enemies? BE AWARE!

…and no, I’m not going to explain the scouring pads thing.