Christmas. ‘Tis a time to be jolly, hang holly, but most importantly…celebrate folly, what with all the random behaviour that suddenly becomes the height of normality in amongst all the frantic, frazzled, frenzy that is: Preperation.
To begin with, everywhere starts to crawl with Santa’s; tall ones, short ones, believable ones, ones with beards apparently sprouting from beneath their chins, or above their noses…even reclining, grumpy ones, watching the cricket in the basement of Harris Scarfe…is it not a bit confusing for small, small children?
Also, a mystifying (and somewhat mildly terrifying) phenomenon begins to occur more and more frequently…
Wild Shoes begin to appear at random along otherwise normally wholesome, shoe-free streets. (I’m not making this up – in the last three days, two, single shoes have appeared along Colley Terrace. One, a wedge, and the other a boot…a male and a female…Shock! Scandal!) By nature, The Shoe is a sociable and yet monogamous creature – it’s with its sole mate from creation, and generally they remain paired for life. So what is it about December that makes some shoes break away from the conditioning of generations, leave their partners behind, and their owners hopping mad (in the most literal sense) and act upon a most unseemly desire to hang out in the gutter…all alone?!?
…or are they?
It’s a Christmas tragedy.
However, alas, the festive season strangeness does not end here. People too, experience a shift in behaviour, and decide that language is a thing for all other times of the year, and begin to communicate through grunts – or silence.
Setting: Shoe store
Scene: Man is craning in a desperate, yet attempted subtle manner at the shoe rack that I’m standing directly in front of.
Me: [knocks over shoe while putting one back] “Whoops”
Man: “Ngh.” [craning continues]
*long, drawn out, crane-filled pause*
Me: [finally]“Do you want to swap places?”
Man: …
*pause* [continues to crane]
I think this language breakdown in the lead up to Christmas is due to the “Law of Conservation of Communication,” which hypothesises there can be only so much communication and sound transfer happening at any one time in the world. December rolls around, and with it comes carollers, cajoling us all with their confusing tales of “These Three Kings” (who for years I thought were from a place called ‘Orientarr’) and extremely alliterative Hark-Happy Heralds. The point being, what with all this extra vocabulary being bandied about, it reduces the amount of words the rest of us are able to use (because, like energy, obviously there is a set amount of speaking and noise-making in the world, which can neither be created nor destroyed)
Hmm…it’s a strange time. But, nonetheless:
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! (for Monday)
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Friday, December 08, 2006
Tyrannosaurus Rex
What does one do with oneself once the hurdle-esque hurdle of exams is leaped and bounded over?
Well, for total hardcores like me, the first thing is to very aggressively and teenager-ly stack your schoolbooks in neat piles in the guest bedroom!
From there just came delinquent activity after delinquent activity (cast of extras bursts into a rousing chorus from “Gee Officer Krupke”) Schoolies was a flurry of junk food, jump street, random spinning around in circles and…singing High School Musical?
There's also really good grasstastic fun to be had :p ("Well they are blades")
But anyways, with school being over (well almost), what better way to nostalgic up your life than with a bit of quality room cleanage? Within minutes I had re-located my Favourite Fantastic Fun-Time Yo-Yo, where fun ensued. Opening my cupboard and peering right up the back, something tall, shiny and clompy was found to be lurking…with fear in my heart, and horrifyingly clear realisation in my mind, the worst was confirmed. Platform Shoes. Several inches high. And I used to wear them out!!!
…they still fit too.
Happy minutes were spent in serious contemplation about whether or not to put up an old Spice Girls poster, before realising that it might be too strange for words…so for now we’re sticking with X-Men 2.
Best of all though, was rediscovering my 6 inch stack of speech cards…where I found a Year 9 speech on the topic “The invention we most need.”
After rambling for about a minute about Holographic DVD players, Voice operated pens and teleportation devices, and how they’d all eventually break down (most spectacularly the teleportation device – ”…well, it could malfunction and you’d end up with a bunch of atoms floating into the abyss.”) it somehow made its way to how much living forever would suck, and so the invention we’d need most it something to keep us the same forever (go train of logic) …but that would suck because: “If you can’t die, you don’t need food. If you can’t get sick, you don’t need doctors. If there’s nothing left to find out, you don’t need scientists, and if you live forever, you can do everything you ever wanted to. But then what are you going to do when your life’s played out and you’re still living it?”
Well there’s one way to end on a positive note :p
Due to recent events however, my view has changed a bit – the invention we need most is something that stops toilet paper running out…because nothing says ‘tension’ like a family all accusing each other of using up all the Sorbent.
Anyways, starting to ramble a bit (though this is better than starting to Rambo a bit, otherwise I’d be Sylvester Stallone, which would be very not very normal), so I’ll end with the following moving words (yay double meaning):
Well, for total hardcores like me, the first thing is to very aggressively and teenager-ly stack your schoolbooks in neat piles in the guest bedroom!
From there just came delinquent activity after delinquent activity (cast of extras bursts into a rousing chorus from “Gee Officer Krupke”) Schoolies was a flurry of junk food, jump street, random spinning around in circles and…singing High School Musical?
There's also really good grasstastic fun to be had :p ("Well they are blades")
But anyways, with school being over (well almost), what better way to nostalgic up your life than with a bit of quality room cleanage? Within minutes I had re-located my Favourite Fantastic Fun-Time Yo-Yo, where fun ensued. Opening my cupboard and peering right up the back, something tall, shiny and clompy was found to be lurking…with fear in my heart, and horrifyingly clear realisation in my mind, the worst was confirmed. Platform Shoes. Several inches high. And I used to wear them out!!!
…they still fit too.
Happy minutes were spent in serious contemplation about whether or not to put up an old Spice Girls poster, before realising that it might be too strange for words…so for now we’re sticking with X-Men 2.
Best of all though, was rediscovering my 6 inch stack of speech cards…where I found a Year 9 speech on the topic “The invention we most need.”
After rambling for about a minute about Holographic DVD players, Voice operated pens and teleportation devices, and how they’d all eventually break down (most spectacularly the teleportation device – ”…well, it could malfunction and you’d end up with a bunch of atoms floating into the abyss.”) it somehow made its way to how much living forever would suck, and so the invention we’d need most it something to keep us the same forever (go train of logic) …but that would suck because: “If you can’t die, you don’t need food. If you can’t get sick, you don’t need doctors. If there’s nothing left to find out, you don’t need scientists, and if you live forever, you can do everything you ever wanted to. But then what are you going to do when your life’s played out and you’re still living it?”
Well there’s one way to end on a positive note :p
Due to recent events however, my view has changed a bit – the invention we need most is something that stops toilet paper running out…because nothing says ‘tension’ like a family all accusing each other of using up all the Sorbent.
Anyways, starting to ramble a bit (though this is better than starting to Rambo a bit, otherwise I’d be Sylvester Stallone, which would be very not very normal), so I’ll end with the following moving words (yay double meaning):
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
What's On Your Radio?
Elton John began it. Sort of. Waaay back in the 80s when some of us weren’t even toddling about, due to our severe lack of existence, he’d already noticed and drawn attention to the fact that “Sad Songs Say So Much” (in an extremely alliteratively magnificent way too). The Living End seems to have taken note of it too.
With the advent of ipods and all those other personal music devices that Microsoft Word doesn’t passively aggressively put as “misspelled” with an angry red squiggle line under it, we can now be around music of our choosing virtually twenty-four hour a day if we so wish. This shift away from shared to private music listenage, though somewhat subtle, has happened extraordinarily rapidly.
In 2000, Glenelg-Seymour bus travel meant 107.1 SAFM blaring from a black cassette/radio player which had its very own seat. Within weeks, newbies would be well equipt to handle high pressure radiodical situations; swinging towards the hills, the station would cease working, giving the nearest person mere seconds to switch to the other SAFM frequency before the passengers started suffering music-and-inane-breakfast-show withdrawal symptoms.
Time passed, and with it came a new bus, with new, inbuilt radio (with a penchant for Nova) and, ever so sneakily: Discmans. Albeit, for choice you did need to bring the bulk of your CD collection, but the difference was now you didn’t need to share, or depend on what everyone else was listening to.
Now we have MP3 players and other headphonated devices. Now I am by no means saying that this is a bad thing; merely that it is heralding a shift that inevitably will, or indeed is already affecting our society, again, not necessarily in a bad way.
Simply, now if we need to escape from people, places, or even our own thoughts, its easy to retreat into a world where you hear nothing but the voice of someone, who chances are, you’ve never met speaking words that seem so relevant to what you’re feeling, whether that be happy, sad or confused.
I realise this isn’t a new thing. Maybe back in his day, when feeling a bit down, 18th Century Teenage boy indulged himself in a bit of ‘Marriage of Figaro’ to cheer up. There’s so much variety of music around, that no matter what’s going on, there will always be one that’s lyrics speak to you as if talking about your own life, day or problems. This is what the Elton John thing was about – sad songs say so much. As do happy songs, and random “Numa Numa” type songs (albeit in Romanian for that particular case).
Music is important, and not merely for entertainment. They have it in movies almost constantly to heighten what you’re seeing on screen, as it is extremely emotive. Even before the silver screen, music played a lead role in plays, stage-shows, circuses – almost every form of entertainment imaginable.
Now however, we are almost elbow deep in it. You hear something you like, not only can you immediately “acquire” it (and about twenty other songs by the same artist) you can listen to it straight away on your computer, copy it onto your music player and take it with you wherever you go; something not possible when all we had was CDs and Cassettes – unless of course you fancied toting a disc wallet around. It’s gotten too easy.
I’m not entirely clear on what my point is exactly. It’s not like “oooh! Watch out for that Billy Idol – he’s a bad influence talking into your ear all the time about “White Weddings” or that Eskimo Joe’s going to convince us all that the only cool girls are those with “Black Fingernails, Red Wine”…or something like that. Nor that Robbie Williams is telling us all to release “the hooligan half of me who steals from Woolworths.” (yes, that is one of his lyrics…)
The girl on the bus who’s at a loss at what to do because her ipod’s run out of battery, or the hooded boy charging through Rundle Mall not hearing the people around him…maybe I’m just slightly unsettled by the possibility that our generation could be the first to completely rely on self-therapy and become increasingly detached, because now we can be alone in a group, if we so choose. Already, what percentage of conversations we all have involve actual voices and talking, and isn’t all text and emoticons?
But, like I said, it’s just a possibility; things could go entirely the other way. Whatever the case, it’s not something that’s going to (or needs to) change anytime soon.
I mean, this whole thing was written while I was logged into msn, with music playing resoundingly loudly in the foreground :-p
With the advent of ipods and all those other personal music devices that Microsoft Word doesn’t passively aggressively put as “misspelled” with an angry red squiggle line under it, we can now be around music of our choosing virtually twenty-four hour a day if we so wish. This shift away from shared to private music listenage, though somewhat subtle, has happened extraordinarily rapidly.
In 2000, Glenelg-Seymour bus travel meant 107.1 SAFM blaring from a black cassette/radio player which had its very own seat. Within weeks, newbies would be well equipt to handle high pressure radiodical situations; swinging towards the hills, the station would cease working, giving the nearest person mere seconds to switch to the other SAFM frequency before the passengers started suffering music-and-inane-breakfast-show withdrawal symptoms.
Time passed, and with it came a new bus, with new, inbuilt radio (with a penchant for Nova) and, ever so sneakily: Discmans. Albeit, for choice you did need to bring the bulk of your CD collection, but the difference was now you didn’t need to share, or depend on what everyone else was listening to.
Now we have MP3 players and other headphonated devices. Now I am by no means saying that this is a bad thing; merely that it is heralding a shift that inevitably will, or indeed is already affecting our society, again, not necessarily in a bad way.
Simply, now if we need to escape from people, places, or even our own thoughts, its easy to retreat into a world where you hear nothing but the voice of someone, who chances are, you’ve never met speaking words that seem so relevant to what you’re feeling, whether that be happy, sad or confused.
I realise this isn’t a new thing. Maybe back in his day, when feeling a bit down, 18th Century Teenage boy indulged himself in a bit of ‘Marriage of Figaro’ to cheer up. There’s so much variety of music around, that no matter what’s going on, there will always be one that’s lyrics speak to you as if talking about your own life, day or problems. This is what the Elton John thing was about – sad songs say so much. As do happy songs, and random “Numa Numa” type songs (albeit in Romanian for that particular case).
Music is important, and not merely for entertainment. They have it in movies almost constantly to heighten what you’re seeing on screen, as it is extremely emotive. Even before the silver screen, music played a lead role in plays, stage-shows, circuses – almost every form of entertainment imaginable.
Now however, we are almost elbow deep in it. You hear something you like, not only can you immediately “acquire” it (and about twenty other songs by the same artist) you can listen to it straight away on your computer, copy it onto your music player and take it with you wherever you go; something not possible when all we had was CDs and Cassettes – unless of course you fancied toting a disc wallet around. It’s gotten too easy.
I’m not entirely clear on what my point is exactly. It’s not like “oooh! Watch out for that Billy Idol – he’s a bad influence talking into your ear all the time about “White Weddings” or that Eskimo Joe’s going to convince us all that the only cool girls are those with “Black Fingernails, Red Wine”…or something like that. Nor that Robbie Williams is telling us all to release “the hooligan half of me who steals from Woolworths.” (yes, that is one of his lyrics…)
The girl on the bus who’s at a loss at what to do because her ipod’s run out of battery, or the hooded boy charging through Rundle Mall not hearing the people around him…maybe I’m just slightly unsettled by the possibility that our generation could be the first to completely rely on self-therapy and become increasingly detached, because now we can be alone in a group, if we so choose. Already, what percentage of conversations we all have involve actual voices and talking, and isn’t all text and emoticons?
But, like I said, it’s just a possibility; things could go entirely the other way. Whatever the case, it’s not something that’s going to (or needs to) change anytime soon.
I mean, this whole thing was written while I was logged into msn, with music playing resoundingly loudly in the foreground :-p
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Charmed Life
I always wondered what happened to the rest of the world when Piper from ‘Charmed’ froze a big city block full of people. Were the boundaries of freezedness, something like 100 square metres of frozen goodness, beyond which lay people hovering around the edges wondering why their friend had ceased moving mid-coffee sip? Or did the whole world freeze, thus making all the non-frozen people age, while the space-time continuum was ripped to shreds, as no time passes while the world is frozen, and yet The Charmed Ones could go about their daily business in what in actuality is no-time?
Bringing this back on topic, what I’m trying to say is that these few fun filled weeks of examinationy goodness feels a bit like that, where Year 12s as a group are The Charmed Ones, and everyone else is either frozen or evil.
Civilians, and civilian activities grind to a halt as we are stuck in lock-down, scrying for knowledge. Thunder thunders and lightning lightens; the downpour of rain pours downwards. Or, sometimes diagonally. Just general ominous-ness ensues. Escape is possible through slumber…that is if you want to escape into dark, frightening dreams. About camping. And driving Jeeps. And wearing Wellington boots due to the high muddability factor. Of camping.
From here the ominysity of it all disintegrates. Sleep is banish-ed (said in a Shakespearean way) to tomorrow, as the haunting words “Yo tell me what you want, what you really really want, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want” resonate around the room. Downstairs is stumbled upon, outside is looked at, whereupon the discovery is made…Rock and Roll festival. Complete with skirt swishedness galore (I may have written about this last year, or at least the suspicious aftermath, where there was a frighteningly organised looking convergence of orange bins left in the wake of those who roll rocks in the musical sense.)
Anyways, the analogy continues, as, like in Charmed, we only leave the house to fight evil. Or do exams. Whichever.
Which is what I’m going to be doing tomorrow, so I must dash.
/.
There. All good.
Bringing this back on topic, what I’m trying to say is that these few fun filled weeks of examinationy goodness feels a bit like that, where Year 12s as a group are The Charmed Ones, and everyone else is either frozen or evil.
Civilians, and civilian activities grind to a halt as we are stuck in lock-down, scrying for knowledge. Thunder thunders and lightning lightens; the downpour of rain pours downwards. Or, sometimes diagonally. Just general ominous-ness ensues. Escape is possible through slumber…that is if you want to escape into dark, frightening dreams. About camping. And driving Jeeps. And wearing Wellington boots due to the high muddability factor. Of camping.
From here the ominysity of it all disintegrates. Sleep is banish-ed (said in a Shakespearean way) to tomorrow, as the haunting words “Yo tell me what you want, what you really really want, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want” resonate around the room. Downstairs is stumbled upon, outside is looked at, whereupon the discovery is made…Rock and Roll festival. Complete with skirt swishedness galore (I may have written about this last year, or at least the suspicious aftermath, where there was a frighteningly organised looking convergence of orange bins left in the wake of those who roll rocks in the musical sense.)
Anyways, the analogy continues, as, like in Charmed, we only leave the house to fight evil. Or do exams. Whichever.
Which is what I’m going to be doing tomorrow, so I must dash.
/.
There. All good.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Red Green Blue Violet
Today many Year 12s took the metaphorical plunge into Exam Week. Not me though. I had to be literal.
With phone in hand, messagerial intentions at heart, and eyes apparently left somewhere in the Northern Hemisphere, the last two stairs were wrongly written off as negligible and I found myself, somewhat over-exuberantly saying good morning to the carpet.
Now armed with two grazed knees (one carpet-burned and the other brick-burned), a fruit smoothie, a bottle of water, a mug of tea, and 2.5 cm (or 0.025 in correct units) worth of Physics textbook, the day was supposedly getting back on track, and steering away from loopiness like a electron away from the positive plate (hey, I said nothing about staying away from minor nerdiness).
After a swiss cheese hour, the holes being calls from Myer, the arrival of registered mail, and more tea gettage, my mind was happily losing its grasp on normality, so that when I put my hands behind my head and felt two random bumps at the base of my skull that hurt when pressed, the logical conclusion was a valiant escape attempt by my brain.
…anyways, I’m losing focus because the BEST scene in Beauty and the Beast’s coming up (No one fights like Gaston – have always been fascinated by him eating 3 dozen eggles complete with shells! ) so I’ll conclude, in a coherent, and very predictable way:
Gaston looks like the Scorpion King.
With phone in hand, messagerial intentions at heart, and eyes apparently left somewhere in the Northern Hemisphere, the last two stairs were wrongly written off as negligible and I found myself, somewhat over-exuberantly saying good morning to the carpet.
Now armed with two grazed knees (one carpet-burned and the other brick-burned), a fruit smoothie, a bottle of water, a mug of tea, and 2.5 cm (or 0.025 in correct units) worth of Physics textbook, the day was supposedly getting back on track, and steering away from loopiness like a electron away from the positive plate (hey, I said nothing about staying away from minor nerdiness).
After a swiss cheese hour, the holes being calls from Myer, the arrival of registered mail, and more tea gettage, my mind was happily losing its grasp on normality, so that when I put my hands behind my head and felt two random bumps at the base of my skull that hurt when pressed, the logical conclusion was a valiant escape attempt by my brain.
…anyways, I’m losing focus because the BEST scene in Beauty and the Beast’s coming up (No one fights like Gaston – have always been fascinated by him eating 3 dozen eggles complete with shells! ) so I’ll conclude, in a coherent, and very predictable way:
Gaston looks like the Scorpion King.
Friday, November 03, 2006
PG - "Phrasing Genius"
Shield your eyes! Block your ears! Wrap yourself in cotton wool! If you haven’t got a parent or suitable adult near you, find one now!
This is the kind of commotion a PG rating should inspire, but, alas, it seems that we are all becoming somewhat apathetic towards this would-be intimidating warning. Now, it’s not all the “Mild Coarse Language” that should be of concern (though ‘damn’ and 'blimey’ should be avoided at all costs.) No, indeed it isn’t even the ‘Medium Level Violence’ (The G rated Tom and Jerry anyone?). Nor is it the -dare I say it- ‘Sexual References’ (which, is kind of a sexual reference in itself, AND is printed on the front of the box)…no, we need to be protected from the real enemy…films containing ‘Supernatural Themes,’ ‘Sensuality,’ and ‘Teen Dating’. (not a joke – “The Sleepover" [which I certainly didn’t watch] was seriously rated PG because it contained Teen Dating and Sensuality…far worse than when the protagonist hid in the shower perving on a guy getting unchanged then stealing his boxer shorts…)
How DARE they fill our minds with such filth? It is time that we cracked down on films promoting such extraordinarily terrible ideals. Here’s the really disturbing part though; some films in this category are even rated G!!!
Some offenders are as follows:
Cinderella: This young, teenage girl, with the help of a Supernatural being (claiming to be her ‘Fairy Godmother’) deliberately disobeys the wishes of her parental figure and struts into a royal Ball, where Teen Dating ensues…not only this, she enjoys singing, and talking to mice, thinking that they talk back to her (indicating possible drug use).
The Little Mermaid: She’s a teenage mermaid. She dates a PRINCE. She gads about with talking sea creatures. Her worst enemy is half octopus, half purple. She is passionate about the out-of-sea world. Supernatural, Teen Dating and Sensuality. Despicable.
Winnie the Pooh: They’re all a bunch of playroom toys come to life. Supernatural. They do however get a tick in their box from refraining from teenage dating and sensuality, so children might possibly be allowed to watch this one…provided they sit in a big, empty room afterwards to counteract any boosts in imagination and/or mental stimulation.
Hmm, anyways, I don’t have time to start on Pocahontas or Noddy. Yes, I get that ratings are important…maybe they just need to phrase things better.
This is the kind of commotion a PG rating should inspire, but, alas, it seems that we are all becoming somewhat apathetic towards this would-be intimidating warning. Now, it’s not all the “Mild Coarse Language” that should be of concern (though ‘damn’ and 'blimey’ should be avoided at all costs.) No, indeed it isn’t even the ‘Medium Level Violence’ (The G rated Tom and Jerry anyone?). Nor is it the -dare I say it- ‘Sexual References’ (which, is kind of a sexual reference in itself, AND is printed on the front of the box)…no, we need to be protected from the real enemy…films containing ‘Supernatural Themes,’ ‘Sensuality,’ and ‘Teen Dating’. (not a joke – “The Sleepover" [which I certainly didn’t watch] was seriously rated PG because it contained Teen Dating and Sensuality…far worse than when the protagonist hid in the shower perving on a guy getting unchanged then stealing his boxer shorts…)
How DARE they fill our minds with such filth? It is time that we cracked down on films promoting such extraordinarily terrible ideals. Here’s the really disturbing part though; some films in this category are even rated G!!!
Some offenders are as follows:
Cinderella: This young, teenage girl, with the help of a Supernatural being (claiming to be her ‘Fairy Godmother’) deliberately disobeys the wishes of her parental figure and struts into a royal Ball, where Teen Dating ensues…not only this, she enjoys singing, and talking to mice, thinking that they talk back to her (indicating possible drug use).
The Little Mermaid: She’s a teenage mermaid. She dates a PRINCE. She gads about with talking sea creatures. Her worst enemy is half octopus, half purple. She is passionate about the out-of-sea world. Supernatural, Teen Dating and Sensuality. Despicable.
Winnie the Pooh: They’re all a bunch of playroom toys come to life. Supernatural. They do however get a tick in their box from refraining from teenage dating and sensuality, so children might possibly be allowed to watch this one…provided they sit in a big, empty room afterwards to counteract any boosts in imagination and/or mental stimulation.
Hmm, anyways, I don’t have time to start on Pocahontas or Noddy. Yes, I get that ratings are important…maybe they just need to phrase things better.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
The Real LOTR FOTR...according to Year 8s.
Aragorn: “OMG Elrond has such a boring voice!”
Gandalf: “That elf sitting behind me’s giving me funny looks…I hope he’s not getting ‘ideas’…”
Legolas: “…and then maybe I could get a perm and then a manicure…what! I’d look awful with a perm! Maybe I could dye it black…nah, I’d look like a Goth. Hey wait. I could be a Goth! Black clothes…no. Wouldn’t work on me…maybe I could suggest it to Gandalf. He really needs some fashion tips. Never Fear! Legolas is here!”
Boromir: “Stupid ring, stupid hobbits, stupid elf, stupid wizard, stupid wannabe king, stupid dwarf with stupid beard, stupid me, stupid Gondor…wait a second…Good Me! Good Gondor! Yeah! We Rule! What was I talking about?”
Sam: “I don’t like the way that Elrond is looking at Frodo. If he tries anything I’ll kill him.”
Frodo: “What have I done. WHAT HAVE I DONE! I should really drink less coffee. He He He, HA Ha Ha! Hee Hee Hee.”
Merry: “Frodo! What are you doing! Shut up, Elrond will hear you. Stop it. Hee Hee! I love coffee.”
Pippin: “ Am I the only sane one here who’s sane?!? Who’s providing all this coffee anyway?”
Gimli: BEARD! I think that I should shampoo my BEARD. My BEARD is so good. I love my BEARD! Maybe if I join this fellowship, others can admire my BEARD! Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Come on my BEARD! Let’s go!
Pippin whispers to Merry: I can read minds. I think we should stay away from Gimli. He’s crazy.
...Well that was a fine example of Year 8 humour, complete with original punctuation, and classic, well thought out lines such as “Am I the only sane one here who’s sane?!?”
Anyways, I think a group of us wrote it for Chantal’s goodbye book back in the midst of Lord of the Rings mania…and Orlando Bloom fever (note the length of Legolas’s entry :p) Ah well, just as well we all turned out so normal…
and cool.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Severe Lack of Montage
My revision timetable has been drawn up, and in accordance with an inherent need to narrate my life, complete with voice over and background music, I am now listening to “Under Pressure” (The original David Bowie and Queen version as The Computer has decided it will not cooperate with The Used and My Chemical Romance’s efforts…ah well). It’s just like living in a movie. Speaking of which, I could really do with one of those exam montages…where they have shots of the protagonist sitting at his/her desk, staring avidly down at their books, heartily scribbling away in a notebook, as the camera moves along and fades, and POW! They’re wearing different clothes because *shock* it’s a different day! It would certainly speed things up.
Anyways, on another kind of related note, tomorrow we embark upon what is our last week of actual schooling goodness, before plunging into SWOT Vac and then…that time after SWOT Vac. However, what better way to distract oneself than by having a good, old fashioned attack of massive pedantic-ness, which, on close inspection probably makes no logical sense, and is in fact, not relevant to anything ever.
Nonetheless…how would you define being in a particular year level? Does Year 12 begin on the first of January, and end on the 31st of December? Or, is it linked with the school terms, beginning when term one does? This being the case, when you are on holidays are you still in Year 12, as you are not physically at school, being in the generally accepted “Year 12 environment”? Probably, as you’re still doing work in that time. But then, we have to define work. Is it when you’re learning new stuff? Because then if so, does Year 12 end Friday next week, thus making “Year 12 Exams” actually “Random-In-Limbo-People Exams” as we will only be going over old stuff from that point onwards? Hmm…I’m rambled out.
Unable to think of an appropriate segue, I’ll just say it: randomly one night in the holidays there was a whole lot of shouting, revving and general loudness coming from outside. Upon peering out the windows, it was revealed that, having spent some quality yelling time at the building diagonally opposite from us, a man on a motorbike had taken it upon himself to pull along to the one side of the roundabout, put on his breaks, and simultaneously accelerate, the result of which being a massive cloud of whathadtobetoxic cloudness…what the?
So…to totally further confuse proceedings, my background music is now “Mr Blue Sky” by ELO…you just have to love songs that start with a brief weather report (that’s with the exception of “It’s Raining Men”, which leaves…just “Mr Blue Sky”)
Good luck everyone!
Anyways, on another kind of related note, tomorrow we embark upon what is our last week of actual schooling goodness, before plunging into SWOT Vac and then…that time after SWOT Vac. However, what better way to distract oneself than by having a good, old fashioned attack of massive pedantic-ness, which, on close inspection probably makes no logical sense, and is in fact, not relevant to anything ever.
Nonetheless…how would you define being in a particular year level? Does Year 12 begin on the first of January, and end on the 31st of December? Or, is it linked with the school terms, beginning when term one does? This being the case, when you are on holidays are you still in Year 12, as you are not physically at school, being in the generally accepted “Year 12 environment”? Probably, as you’re still doing work in that time. But then, we have to define work. Is it when you’re learning new stuff? Because then if so, does Year 12 end Friday next week, thus making “Year 12 Exams” actually “Random-In-Limbo-People Exams” as we will only be going over old stuff from that point onwards? Hmm…I’m rambled out.
Unable to think of an appropriate segue, I’ll just say it: randomly one night in the holidays there was a whole lot of shouting, revving and general loudness coming from outside. Upon peering out the windows, it was revealed that, having spent some quality yelling time at the building diagonally opposite from us, a man on a motorbike had taken it upon himself to pull along to the one side of the roundabout, put on his breaks, and simultaneously accelerate, the result of which being a massive cloud of whathadtobetoxic cloudness…what the?
So…to totally further confuse proceedings, my background music is now “Mr Blue Sky” by ELO…you just have to love songs that start with a brief weather report (that’s with the exception of “It’s Raining Men”, which leaves…just “Mr Blue Sky”)
Good luck everyone!
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Shopping
Individuality hinges upon expressing yourself through means different to those of everyone else. However, it is impossible to do so entirely exclusively, as we all have to have some things in common with others, therefore, maybe individuality is merely a person’s unique combination of the people, things and influences in their surrounding environment....which is what makes shopping centres so fascinating. Stocked with identical item after identical item, so many people go to them, and then come away with random assortments of stuff. Yesterday was one such experience, in the almost futile quest for summer clothes (which I'll totally get to wear so much before exams...) Each shop has it's own image, or "fashion sense", which can have mixed results for different people. One store in particular seemed to have gone crazy with the "bubble" look. Bubble dresses do work sometimes, but it takes a very particular kind of body type to pull off the bubble top - otherwise it makes thin people look thicker, and everyone else look elaphantine (a word I discovered while trying to bulk out my Year 4 "Personal Spelling List"...)
Tops are getting longer and longer, so that they would be indistinguishable from dresses, but for the fact that that...nope, drawing a blank. That's not all for tops now though, becuase it seems that alongside the stripe invasion (which is actually kindof cool) comes STAR ATTACK! Not suggesting that it's bad or detrimental in anyway (yes, detrimental. As in it melts your skin or something if you choose to wear stars...) just interesting. Personally, I'm holding out for the day that everyone's wearing Dr Who tops...
The shopping experience itself is wildly varied for different people, or even for yourself depending on your age. Usually over life, shopping goes from: Interesting, frustrating, fun, boooooring, fun, terrifying, ESSENTIAL, boring, fun, shmeh...or something like that. Have to admit though, it's good that now I'm a bit older, to be able to walk past or *whispered* into the bra section of a shop and fight the residual 11-year-old-inner-self's overwhelming urge to flee.
Anyways, the random drawing at the top was a procrastination device where I was trying to sum up (in a somewhat weird way) what all the study this year feels like to me...sortof.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Boiled Toast
Today I am absent minded. What is it about holidays and the sudden freedom from sporadic lack of bells and random mysterious common room smells that has the ability to turn one’s brain into mush?
I’ve said before (though in a rather vague and waffly way) that life is stranger than anything they could possibly get away with in a film. It’s odd to think that we’d have the need to suspend disbelief at all ever. Considering the stuff that we encounter in our day to day lives that sometimes are just so out there, fairies, 4-foot high “One Ring” wielders and scientifically-named-dogs-travelling-through-time-and-space-in-a-specially-adapted-Delorian seem fairly mild. (No exaggeration whatsoever… )
So what does this mean exactly? That the world actually is as it’s portrayed in the Matrix, that we’re all plugged into vats with computer programs beaming “real life” directly into our minds? Maybe there’s a tear in the fabric of reality that’s letting the absurd slowly trickle through? Or maybe it means that the combination of Year 12 and Holidays has brought out the extremely rare and unusual condition: Reverse Sleep Deprivation.
That’s right. After month after month of having less than the minimum amount of sleep required to keep an adequate grip on reality and sanity, the holidays have come about, and all of a sudden: 11 Hours! A Night! The problem (ooh, they’re playing “Rock the Casbah” on the radio now…you all really needed to know that) now is, we’d already adapted…maybe even evolved to be able to cope, and now it’s “being thrown for a loop” time.
Now it looks like I’ve broken into two, separate and yet equally confusing threads (wow, that sounded a bit Law and Order-y): “Life is weird” and “Help! I’m un-sleep deprived!” but they are linked somewhat. The symptoms of RSD (strangely similar to regular SD actually) include absent-mindedness, such as (in a totally general sense of course) going to the fridge to get eggs to boil, and coming away with a loaf of bread instead, random blurting…that’s my excuse anyway…and the tendency to accept strange occurrences as normality…such as the filming of Bollywood movies in the middle of Rundle Mall – which is what links the threads! (Though somewhat weakly and dubiously I’ll admit)
Anyways, again I’m getting (just wrote “gitting”…what an interesting concept. “To become increasingly more git-like”) convoluted (and also just had a brief typing interlude to answer the door buzzer, whereupon I dropped the receiver with loud, reverberating clunking noises and had to go downstairs in my HOT Phantom of the Opera t-shirt to collect a package for Mum) so I’ll stop and get back the homework...
I’ve said before (though in a rather vague and waffly way) that life is stranger than anything they could possibly get away with in a film. It’s odd to think that we’d have the need to suspend disbelief at all ever. Considering the stuff that we encounter in our day to day lives that sometimes are just so out there, fairies, 4-foot high “One Ring” wielders and scientifically-named-dogs-travelling-through-time-and-space-in-a-specially-adapted-Delorian seem fairly mild. (No exaggeration whatsoever… )
So what does this mean exactly? That the world actually is as it’s portrayed in the Matrix, that we’re all plugged into vats with computer programs beaming “real life” directly into our minds? Maybe there’s a tear in the fabric of reality that’s letting the absurd slowly trickle through? Or maybe it means that the combination of Year 12 and Holidays has brought out the extremely rare and unusual condition: Reverse Sleep Deprivation.
That’s right. After month after month of having less than the minimum amount of sleep required to keep an adequate grip on reality and sanity, the holidays have come about, and all of a sudden: 11 Hours! A Night! The problem (ooh, they’re playing “Rock the Casbah” on the radio now…you all really needed to know that) now is, we’d already adapted…maybe even evolved to be able to cope, and now it’s “being thrown for a loop” time.
Now it looks like I’ve broken into two, separate and yet equally confusing threads (wow, that sounded a bit Law and Order-y): “Life is weird” and “Help! I’m un-sleep deprived!” but they are linked somewhat. The symptoms of RSD (strangely similar to regular SD actually) include absent-mindedness, such as (in a totally general sense of course) going to the fridge to get eggs to boil, and coming away with a loaf of bread instead, random blurting…that’s my excuse anyway…and the tendency to accept strange occurrences as normality…such as the filming of Bollywood movies in the middle of Rundle Mall – which is what links the threads! (Though somewhat weakly and dubiously I’ll admit)
Anyways, again I’m getting (just wrote “gitting”…what an interesting concept. “To become increasingly more git-like”) convoluted (and also just had a brief typing interlude to answer the door buzzer, whereupon I dropped the receiver with loud, reverberating clunking noises and had to go downstairs in my HOT Phantom of the Opera t-shirt to collect a package for Mum) so I’ll stop and get back the homework...
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Alphabetical Excerpt
It’s the holidays. That’s right, we have now officially embarked upon 14 fun-filled days of “holi” in which we can work, “work”, eat noodles for brunch and watch Casper.
After a dubious trip into the city where the following was overheard “quick! The cops are coming! Let’s split up!” whereupon the group continued walking together, normal except for their panicked voices (?!?)…I have nothing to follow that up with.
Anyways, this is just a brief post to say: a) Watch Casper – it is actually so good b) YAY!!! c) The song in the Jericho ad is called “Light Surrounding You” …maybe should have just read the thing at the bottom of the screen…and finally: Happy Birthday Richard!
After a dubious trip into the city where the following was overheard “quick! The cops are coming! Let’s split up!” whereupon the group continued walking together, normal except for their panicked voices (?!?)…I have nothing to follow that up with.
Anyways, this is just a brief post to say: a) Watch Casper – it is actually so good b) YAY!!! c) The song in the Jericho ad is called “Light Surrounding You” …maybe should have just read the thing at the bottom of the screen…and finally: Happy Birthday Richard!
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
X-Men vs. Harry Potter
It’s the ultimate week in the penultimate term of the ultimate year. Ultimate. Therefore, logically it is a time to ponder the meaning of all things, of matter, and of how all things are linked…especially Harry Potter and X-Men.
WARNING! Don’t read on if you have yet to read the Harry Potter books, and don’t want any surprises, i.e. the castle exploding and everyone turning into pineapples, to be spoilt.
First of all they are both set in exclusive schools for a minority group of people (of the non-muggle persuasion) who live there in secrecy and seclusion. The teachers of both schools belong to a special crime-fighting group; The X-Men and The Order of the Phoenix. Both schools are overseen by an Omnipotent-esque being – Xavier and Dumbledore. In the third X-Men Xavier dies, and Dumbledore supposedly dies in the sixth Harry Potter. 2 times 3 is six. Where does the 2 come from? Well, Dumbledore has a beard and Xavier doesn’t and so obviously that accounts for the doubledness (this is my logic in some maths tests…it seems to work)
By the way, in this comparison, Cyclops does not equal Sirius, even though they both have ambiguous deaths…mostly because Cyclops is massively annoying.
Also, I haven’t managed to slot Buckbeak in here anywhere yet…he can’t equal Beast.
Anyways, final comparison: Dumbledore’s pet is a Phoenix. Xavier’s favourite student is Jean Grey, who, when she becomes evil adopts the name….wait for it….Phoenix! *cough*
Now…randomly early sleep!
WARNING! Don’t read on if you have yet to read the Harry Potter books, and don’t want any surprises, i.e. the castle exploding and everyone turning into pineapples, to be spoilt.
First of all they are both set in exclusive schools for a minority group of people (of the non-muggle persuasion) who live there in secrecy and seclusion. The teachers of both schools belong to a special crime-fighting group; The X-Men and The Order of the Phoenix. Both schools are overseen by an Omnipotent-esque being – Xavier and Dumbledore. In the third X-Men Xavier dies, and Dumbledore supposedly dies in the sixth Harry Potter. 2 times 3 is six. Where does the 2 come from? Well, Dumbledore has a beard and Xavier doesn’t and so obviously that accounts for the doubledness (this is my logic in some maths tests…it seems to work)
By the way, in this comparison, Cyclops does not equal Sirius, even though they both have ambiguous deaths…mostly because Cyclops is massively annoying.
Also, I haven’t managed to slot Buckbeak in here anywhere yet…he can’t equal Beast.
Anyways, final comparison: Dumbledore’s pet is a Phoenix. Xavier’s favourite student is Jean Grey, who, when she becomes evil adopts the name….wait for it….Phoenix! *cough*
Now…randomly early sleep!
Monday, September 18, 2006
On Trial(s and Tri/(ju)bulation[s])
Dust streamed between the keys, desperate to escape from the harsh sunlight now invading their long peaceful and dark haven. Years of refuge and safety, free from the unpredictable whims of long dead musicians, hands, one moment gently gliding across the surface, barely even touching, the next; harsh, angry – pounding away at the command of a little “f”. Piano? Forte? They could never make up their minds. But it was a life long left behind, keys left in peace, in silence. Exploited no more…until now.
Right, that counts as ‘practicing’ for Thursdays English narrative – and thus this most definitely (Oh no! Had to correct that because I spelt it wrong again!) is not procrastination. I am however going to have tea in a minute, which most certainly is. I also managed to watch ‘Saved’ on Saturday too…ah well. Not a big deal, it only leads to a few personality disorders.
That’s what happens in trial exam week I guess. The above italicised ramble was somewhat inspired by yesterday’s attempted try for relaxation. Yes, piano-for-the-first-time-in-about-five-months was an extremely good plan to boost self esteem and study motivation. Piece after piece would end the same way: starting alright, the mind would think “I still got this!” followed by “Well that was terrible grammar and sentence structure,” which preceded “It’s not like you said it out loud or anything”, which came before “Yeah, but that’s not the point” then “I need to go to the book store…is it time for me to start reading autobiographies of politicians rather than the latest Charlie Bone book?”…by which stage the first half of the song, having gotten progressively worse over the past minute, would taper off to a point, whereupon a new song would be selected and the ordeal would begin once more.
Maybe going for a walk would be a better option.
If walking was implemented as a warrior on the front lines of STRESS WARS! (Time out for scrolling, long winded text about stressful political situations in galaxy’s far, far away) you’d probably need to have a shower, or at least a good scrub first, due to the strange phenomena where ink from highlighters, ballpoints an biros come together as one and teleport out of their respective tubes, and conveniently relocate themselves all over your hands and arms!!! This is particularly handy (no pun intended) when making notes, because then you can then proceed to make helpful colourful smudges all over the place.
Anyways, I have to get back to the rapturous joy that is: Physicstudy! (it’s time that it became one word)
Right, that counts as ‘practicing’ for Thursdays English narrative – and thus this most definitely (Oh no! Had to correct that because I spelt it wrong again!) is not procrastination. I am however going to have tea in a minute, which most certainly is. I also managed to watch ‘Saved’ on Saturday too…ah well. Not a big deal, it only leads to a few personality disorders.
That’s what happens in trial exam week I guess. The above italicised ramble was somewhat inspired by yesterday’s attempted try for relaxation. Yes, piano-for-the-first-time-in-about-five-months was an extremely good plan to boost self esteem and study motivation. Piece after piece would end the same way: starting alright, the mind would think “I still got this!” followed by “Well that was terrible grammar and sentence structure,” which preceded “It’s not like you said it out loud or anything”, which came before “Yeah, but that’s not the point” then “I need to go to the book store…is it time for me to start reading autobiographies of politicians rather than the latest Charlie Bone book?”…by which stage the first half of the song, having gotten progressively worse over the past minute, would taper off to a point, whereupon a new song would be selected and the ordeal would begin once more.
Maybe going for a walk would be a better option.
If walking was implemented as a warrior on the front lines of STRESS WARS! (Time out for scrolling, long winded text about stressful political situations in galaxy’s far, far away) you’d probably need to have a shower, or at least a good scrub first, due to the strange phenomena where ink from highlighters, ballpoints an biros come together as one and teleport out of their respective tubes, and conveniently relocate themselves all over your hands and arms!!! This is particularly handy (no pun intended) when making notes, because then you can then proceed to make helpful colourful smudges all over the place.
Anyways, I have to get back to the rapturous joy that is: Physicstudy! (it’s time that it became one word)
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Pretty In Pink
Wow, the past 24 hours were possibly almost better than when your playlist is on random, and yet the next chronological song comes on anyway!!! (Note: that’s a good thing…it somehow appeals to the inherent rebellious “defying authority and laws of randonymity” gene…or some nerd mutation of it)
To begin with, The Hypothetical Little Man (THLM) who spent the period of time from Monday night to late Tuesday afternoon sitting in my mind and prodding my eye from behind incessantly seems to have moved on to bigger and better things (I shudder to think what exactly) THLM only seems to make his presence known when I’m databaseing, and now that the assignment has been handed up, *que inspirational bagpipe music* fingers crossed that he’s gone for good.
After a personal best (yes, it adds up; I counted :p) and a mildly disturbing episode of Home and Away (why Drew, why???) I managed to get adequate sleep! (almost as difficult to achieve as spotting stripy penguin monsters) ((That reminds me: ‘Doctor! Doctor! I keep seeing purple monsters with orange spots!’ ‘Have you seen a Psychiatrist?’ ‘No…just purple monsters with orange spots.’)
On waking up, it turned out to be Wednesday; TV GUIDE DAY!!! Yay-not-having-to-watch-every-episode-of-Neighbours-to-know-what’s-happening! However, I didn’t have a chance to read it in between diving from bed to uniform to bag to kitchen to lift-shaft to bus…but there was no last minute necessary homework do-edness, so constructive time was passed looking out the window and listening to miscellaneous music.
Turns out it was a 50% day – 3 less lessons lessens the stress. Quality ‘sitting on couch’ plans were cleverly thwarted by the video guy, who was holding interviews in the common room, which was entertaining, and resulted in the rest of the day being chock a block full (weird phrase – chocolate blocks are no more full than other things…in fact possibly less so, with all the air cracks between the individual pieces that still take up a significant amount of packaging space) of ‘oh, it’s like that time when…’ which is always fun, and usually ends up with everyone collapsing in laughter about things such as ‘evil heartburn-inducing fruitboxes’. (Sorry!)
Having been ‘de-linked’ from the year 9s, (and I was going to show them how to fold flappy birds and everything…) fun times of wacky extreme SATAC-ing ensued, before a riveting bus trip [neutral-non-chocolate-related] full of sleeping, unfocussed gazing and explaining the ever-fascinating concept of ‘n’, the variable that isn’t x.
…and to top it off: Fish and Chips for dinner!
To begin with, The Hypothetical Little Man (THLM) who spent the period of time from Monday night to late Tuesday afternoon sitting in my mind and prodding my eye from behind incessantly seems to have moved on to bigger and better things (I shudder to think what exactly) THLM only seems to make his presence known when I’m databaseing, and now that the assignment has been handed up, *que inspirational bagpipe music* fingers crossed that he’s gone for good.
After a personal best (yes, it adds up; I counted :p) and a mildly disturbing episode of Home and Away (why Drew, why???) I managed to get adequate sleep! (almost as difficult to achieve as spotting stripy penguin monsters) ((That reminds me: ‘Doctor! Doctor! I keep seeing purple monsters with orange spots!’ ‘Have you seen a Psychiatrist?’ ‘No…just purple monsters with orange spots.’)
On waking up, it turned out to be Wednesday; TV GUIDE DAY!!! Yay-not-having-to-watch-every-episode-of-Neighbours-to-know-what’s-happening! However, I didn’t have a chance to read it in between diving from bed to uniform to bag to kitchen to lift-shaft to bus…but there was no last minute necessary homework do-edness, so constructive time was passed looking out the window and listening to miscellaneous music.
Turns out it was a 50% day – 3 less lessons lessens the stress. Quality ‘sitting on couch’ plans were cleverly thwarted by the video guy, who was holding interviews in the common room, which was entertaining, and resulted in the rest of the day being chock a block full (weird phrase – chocolate blocks are no more full than other things…in fact possibly less so, with all the air cracks between the individual pieces that still take up a significant amount of packaging space) of ‘oh, it’s like that time when…’ which is always fun, and usually ends up with everyone collapsing in laughter about things such as ‘evil heartburn-inducing fruitboxes’. (Sorry!)
Having been ‘de-linked’ from the year 9s, (and I was going to show them how to fold flappy birds and everything…) fun times of wacky extreme SATAC-ing ensued, before a riveting bus trip [neutral-non-chocolate-related] full of sleeping, unfocussed gazing and explaining the ever-fascinating concept of ‘n’, the variable that isn’t x.
…and to top it off: Fish and Chips for dinner!
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Stationary Pinboards Gather Much Moss
Today being Thursday, and year 12 being a year of “looking to the future” (I don’t think I’m actually quoting anyone there), logic follows that today I should talk about yesterday…what a seriously exciting sentence.
Wednesday began in a mildly disturbing way – by eagerly leaping out of bed in the normal manner (…) only to find myself confronted Ron Moss gazing all Bold-and-Annoyingly (yes, what a mature phrase) out at me from my very own pinboard…it’s an invasion, I tell you. Removing the picture serves no purpose, because on returning from school, he had seemingly cloned himself, and I had double the sulky sultry Moss-men peering down from the wall … when will the madness end?!?
In between watching my pinboard becoming slowly covered in Moss, came attending that “Wackily Wonderful School-Like School” place where we all go. However, on this particular Wednesday, Attending the WWSLS place meant not attending…at least for two of the six lessons…
Dressed in an awesome mishmash of hybrid PE and ‘Normal’ clothes, it was time to yet again embark upon “that time of the fortnight,” in which an entire 100 minutes is spent contemplating the true meaning of life, pondering about the passive aggressive nature of motorists, and enjoying the fascinating and exciting view…of my hands. Thrilling. (for an extra fun detail, my left hand had the word “Letter” written on it…made for suspenseful reading).
Yay bike riding.
However, on the plus side, I am now three for three in the toppling-off-my-bike count. The weird thing is how it only seems to be when I’m in a big group of my peers that my severe unco-ness decides to rear it’s extremely, non-embarassed head…pulling over to the curb should be so easy…so why was it twenty centimetres further away than expected?
Ah well, at least it was raining :)
Wednesday began in a mildly disturbing way – by eagerly leaping out of bed in the normal manner (…) only to find myself confronted Ron Moss gazing all Bold-and-Annoyingly (yes, what a mature phrase) out at me from my very own pinboard…it’s an invasion, I tell you. Removing the picture serves no purpose, because on returning from school, he had seemingly cloned himself, and I had double the sulky sultry Moss-men peering down from the wall … when will the madness end?!?
In between watching my pinboard becoming slowly covered in Moss, came attending that “Wackily Wonderful School-Like School” place where we all go. However, on this particular Wednesday, Attending the WWSLS place meant not attending…at least for two of the six lessons…
Dressed in an awesome mishmash of hybrid PE and ‘Normal’ clothes, it was time to yet again embark upon “that time of the fortnight,” in which an entire 100 minutes is spent contemplating the true meaning of life, pondering about the passive aggressive nature of motorists, and enjoying the fascinating and exciting view…of my hands. Thrilling. (for an extra fun detail, my left hand had the word “Letter” written on it…made for suspenseful reading).
Yay bike riding.
However, on the plus side, I am now three for three in the toppling-off-my-bike count. The weird thing is how it only seems to be when I’m in a big group of my peers that my severe unco-ness decides to rear it’s extremely, non-embarassed head…pulling over to the curb should be so easy…so why was it twenty centimetres further away than expected?
Ah well, at least it was raining :)
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Flags!
If my maths exercise book had any more flags in it, it would probably be eligible for the “Super Patriot of the Year” award. However, that aside, I’d just like to ask, is “for a full on day of full on fun” a phrase from an old ad for magic mountain, Puzzle Park or Greenhills? It’s something that’s been driving me insane for the last five minutes.
Anyways, after establishing very clearly that we should all move to California (California!) for Just Another Day in Paradise where Everybody Hurts, so Save Me! because I’m a Terrible Person, and should Stop! right now, and be Forever Young, before becoming a Prisoner of Society, but I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing, so When the Sun Goes Down I’ll find A Horse With No Name and travel under the Moonlight Shadow and search for The Holy Grail. Nah, that’ll never happen…because I’m no Superman :P
…hmm, got a bit carried away there. To rephrase that ramble: I’ve been listening to music. It really does help with the homework. Anyways, it’s been an interesting weekend. (and by weekend I mean the period of time beginning the second you leave the school grounds)
Starting by witnessing Hugh Jackman sing, dance, prance, and have his butt grabbed by random women, you would think that Saturday would be a bit of an anticlimax, but alas, no! Awaking bright an early at the chipper, morning person’s time of 11:43a.m, I thought it was going to be a quiet, slow paced day of homework and SATACing…that was before stumbling downstairs and finding myself amidst a raging, intense battle or epic proportions: Pluto; Planet or Dwarf – who has the right to decide?
15 minutes of “Read this Article!” “It’s purely from a human perspective!” “What about Pluto?” “Who’s to say it’s a rock?” “Who’s to say it isn’t?” “Pluto’s a dog!” later, we agreed to disagree (wow, I really don’t like the cliché-edness of that phrase) and the tension subsided, and then the homework and SATACing began.
The rest of Saturday was a riot of…[10 paragraphs omitted here. In summary: homework, msn, phone, eating, phone, Mighty Ducks! msn, sleep…] Also: thank you commas! Because otherwise I’d have been msning a phone which I later ate while watching Mighty Ducks….riiiight.
Sunday however, is the most exciting day of all. Not just because I watched Dr Who, ate pancakes, and did homework…I got new conditioner! Yay! Crisis averted! Door is closing! Woohoo!
…anyways, this is starting to turn into a fully fledged ramble of incoherent babble, so I’m going to stop now….no….now.
Anyways, after establishing very clearly that we should all move to California (California!) for Just Another Day in Paradise where Everybody Hurts, so Save Me! because I’m a Terrible Person, and should Stop! right now, and be Forever Young, before becoming a Prisoner of Society, but I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing, so When the Sun Goes Down I’ll find A Horse With No Name and travel under the Moonlight Shadow and search for The Holy Grail. Nah, that’ll never happen…because I’m no Superman :P
…hmm, got a bit carried away there. To rephrase that ramble: I’ve been listening to music. It really does help with the homework. Anyways, it’s been an interesting weekend. (and by weekend I mean the period of time beginning the second you leave the school grounds)
Starting by witnessing Hugh Jackman sing, dance, prance, and have his butt grabbed by random women, you would think that Saturday would be a bit of an anticlimax, but alas, no! Awaking bright an early at the chipper, morning person’s time of 11:43a.m, I thought it was going to be a quiet, slow paced day of homework and SATACing…that was before stumbling downstairs and finding myself amidst a raging, intense battle or epic proportions: Pluto; Planet or Dwarf – who has the right to decide?
15 minutes of “Read this Article!” “It’s purely from a human perspective!” “What about Pluto?” “Who’s to say it’s a rock?” “Who’s to say it isn’t?” “Pluto’s a dog!” later, we agreed to disagree (wow, I really don’t like the cliché-edness of that phrase) and the tension subsided, and then the homework and SATACing began.
The rest of Saturday was a riot of…[10 paragraphs omitted here. In summary: homework, msn, phone, eating, phone, Mighty Ducks! msn, sleep…] Also: thank you commas! Because otherwise I’d have been msning a phone which I later ate while watching Mighty Ducks….riiiight.
Sunday however, is the most exciting day of all. Not just because I watched Dr Who, ate pancakes, and did homework…I got new conditioner! Yay! Crisis averted! Door is closing! Woohoo!
…anyways, this is starting to turn into a fully fledged ramble of incoherent babble, so I’m going to stop now….no….now.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Miscellaneous
It’s been a tough week, but for the fact that it’s only Monday, and nothing really tough has happened. Yes, the day has come. I have reached a blogging drought, and have nothing really to talk about…but that doesn’t stop me in my day-to-day life (as opposed to my week-by-week, year-by-year, nanosecond-by-nanosecond lives…) so why should here be any different? Which is why I’m going to forego the normal, long-winded-yet-highly-thrilling anecdote fest, and just go for a totally miscellaneous- yet-highly-thrilling anecdote fest of whatever comes to mind.
AGGGH! To Wednesday, a day of two tests menacingly circling around a double lesson of bike riding. It’s not so much the riding that poses a threat, so much as the sharp turning while going downhill, resulting in an unexpected-meeting-without-a-prior-appointment between me, the bike, and the unnecessarily solid ground…
Also, are Meredith and Derek ever going to get back together? (just typed Meredith and Addison…great.) Wow, if suspense could kill…except it can’t, because that would be personifying a (how do you describe suspense? Is it a feeling? Apprehension is a feeling…isn’t it? Well, suspense is a feeling now…could have said feeling a couple more times in that little ramble) feeling, which of course is impossible…for now.
Speaking of concerns, omg SATAC!!! It could be more confusing, but for that to happen, it would need to be in a different language. That, or the guide would need to be written on rye bread. Mmm…ensuing confusion to engulf the current confusion…
On a different note, I don’t think my conditioner’s going to last until we next go to the supermarket! Oh no! Not superficial in the least! But, as a wise person once told me that another wise person told her, “Shampoo opens the door, and conditioner closes it.”
Another question; is anyone else slightly out of kilter because of how the sixth Harry Potter book is thinner than the fifth, and thus breaks the getting ever thicker pattern that’s lasted five volumes? It’s fun to be pedantic :)
Anyways, off to dinner now.
AGGGH! To Wednesday, a day of two tests menacingly circling around a double lesson of bike riding. It’s not so much the riding that poses a threat, so much as the sharp turning while going downhill, resulting in an unexpected-meeting-without-a-prior-appointment between me, the bike, and the unnecessarily solid ground…
Also, are Meredith and Derek ever going to get back together? (just typed Meredith and Addison…great.) Wow, if suspense could kill…except it can’t, because that would be personifying a (how do you describe suspense? Is it a feeling? Apprehension is a feeling…isn’t it? Well, suspense is a feeling now…could have said feeling a couple more times in that little ramble) feeling, which of course is impossible…for now.
Speaking of concerns, omg SATAC!!! It could be more confusing, but for that to happen, it would need to be in a different language. That, or the guide would need to be written on rye bread. Mmm…ensuing confusion to engulf the current confusion…
On a different note, I don’t think my conditioner’s going to last until we next go to the supermarket! Oh no! Not superficial in the least! But, as a wise person once told me that another wise person told her, “Shampoo opens the door, and conditioner closes it.”
Another question; is anyone else slightly out of kilter because of how the sixth Harry Potter book is thinner than the fifth, and thus breaks the getting ever thicker pattern that’s lasted five volumes? It’s fun to be pedantic :)
Anyways, off to dinner now.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Scott Joplin + Tram Walk = ...Super Mario?
Having just brushed my teeth within the Protection of Tooth Enamel Safety Restrictions timeline, I’d like to take a moment to make an observation about which I’m absolutely certain many others before me have pondered in depth.
Making the long, arduous journey either from my house to the tram, or from the tram to my house is always fun filled and riveting. Whether it be non-ticket-having “drunkenly-stoned shouty guy”, or random people who sit next to you even when every other seat is empty, then insist upon using your phone, there’s always something interesting going on that you have to struggle to hear while simultaneously maintaining the façade of indifference and nonchalance.
However, tonight the usually phenomenal excitement that is: “The Tram Journey” was dwarfed, by the new and improved: “Walk From Tram to Building.”
Now, you wouldn’t think that too much could happen in less than 5 minutes, but from the second the tram was vacated, the fun began. With n-pod in one ear the epic 150 metre, Lord of the Rings-esque journey began, by me nearly taking out “running man with takeaway”. It was once again a case of the “move-out-of-the-way-only-to-find-they-have-done-likewise” phenomenon, which I wrote about last year. After what felt like about five years of trying to get out of his way, we finally broke free and progressed onto where each of us was actually trying to go.
Moving onto the Colley Reserve path, “having issues with parking meter” man and either “joking or hurling abuse while in cars” people were passed. Suddenly, the hardcore plinkings of Scott Joplin came on, and everything changed.
…well not really. I just wanted to sound dramatic. Nonetheless, it did inspire the random feeling of being in a game of Super Mario. Seriously try it sometime. With the background music there, it would not have come as a huge shock to see frightening evil spotted mushrooms heading in my general direction, with the only way to save myself being to jump either on them, causing them to go “fleep!!!” and dissolve into nothingness, or jump over them and continue moving on in safety.
Skirting around trees, hedges and assorted bottles and litter, without being attacked by mushrooms or mutant bug things, the remainder of the journey was relatively uneventful. Nearing home, “walking normally and not doing anything interesting or unusual to comment on” man and the familiar pillar of smart cars came into sight, and there the fascinating wonderfulness of being Mario ended…
Making the long, arduous journey either from my house to the tram, or from the tram to my house is always fun filled and riveting. Whether it be non-ticket-having “drunkenly-stoned shouty guy”, or random people who sit next to you even when every other seat is empty, then insist upon using your phone, there’s always something interesting going on that you have to struggle to hear while simultaneously maintaining the façade of indifference and nonchalance.
However, tonight the usually phenomenal excitement that is: “The Tram Journey” was dwarfed, by the new and improved: “Walk From Tram to Building.”
Now, you wouldn’t think that too much could happen in less than 5 minutes, but from the second the tram was vacated, the fun began. With n-pod in one ear the epic 150 metre, Lord of the Rings-esque journey began, by me nearly taking out “running man with takeaway”. It was once again a case of the “move-out-of-the-way-only-to-find-they-have-done-likewise” phenomenon, which I wrote about last year. After what felt like about five years of trying to get out of his way, we finally broke free and progressed onto where each of us was actually trying to go.
Moving onto the Colley Reserve path, “having issues with parking meter” man and either “joking or hurling abuse while in cars” people were passed. Suddenly, the hardcore plinkings of Scott Joplin came on, and everything changed.
…well not really. I just wanted to sound dramatic. Nonetheless, it did inspire the random feeling of being in a game of Super Mario. Seriously try it sometime. With the background music there, it would not have come as a huge shock to see frightening evil spotted mushrooms heading in my general direction, with the only way to save myself being to jump either on them, causing them to go “fleep!!!” and dissolve into nothingness, or jump over them and continue moving on in safety.
Skirting around trees, hedges and assorted bottles and litter, without being attacked by mushrooms or mutant bug things, the remainder of the journey was relatively uneventful. Nearing home, “walking normally and not doing anything interesting or unusual to comment on” man and the familiar pillar of smart cars came into sight, and there the fascinating wonderfulness of being Mario ended…
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Spice Up Your Life
We’ve been through ‘The Year Play School Became Un-cool’, Teletubbies – The must have accessory for any self respecting nine year old (wow I really hated that phase), the six months of “omg Leonardo DiCaprio is sooo dreamy, the oh-so-mature-and-witty ‘Pen 15’ and the endless joys of carpets and static electricity. It’s a good thing that the Spice Girls were around, because otherwise we would never have realised that what we really really really wanted was a “zing-a-zing AH!” Been there, done that, bought the bracelet/showbag/VHS tape of ‘Spiceworld – The Movie’. (actually I didn’t get the movie…is it sad that I wish I did?)
The discoveries continued with finding out how totally awesome and fashionable it is to wear matching floral print trousers and tops to a disco (after which many fun hours could be whittled away by shouting in each others ears because “it really isn’t that loud.”) And what better way is there to spend fifty minutes worth of lunchtime than trading stickers/bits of coloured paper/millipedes?
…and I’m sure that by now we ALL know who “Bugsy” is. Or what “I was born on a pirate ship” sounds like when spoken out loud. Ditto spelling out “I Cup.”
But at least by the end of it, we all came out better, well-adjusted people…or so we thought.
Year 11. We were at the top of our game. Serious conversations. Exams. Homework do-edness. Listening to mature, non twelve-year-old-target-audience music. Not falling asleep on the school bus…
So what is it about Year 12 that has a superior dorkifying effect on those going through it?
The year’s trickling away, and with it went the anti-dorkyness barriers that had taken years of quashing and repression to build up. Barely noticeable at first, I didn’t even really start to notice until this week. Maybe I should have twigged when I turned up on day one with Narnia and Spiderman maths exercise books…
After a few weeks of coming home on Friday to watch “H2O – Just add water” a program about teenage mermaids, and responding to arguments with “so’s your face.” (which I might add is totally legitimate…watch Scrubs. JD proves it) it was not until I found myself doing my English application while listening to “Wannabee” that the true extent of what shall now be known as “Twelvenoiditis” finally hit…
Wow I hope it’s not just me.
The discoveries continued with finding out how totally awesome and fashionable it is to wear matching floral print trousers and tops to a disco (after which many fun hours could be whittled away by shouting in each others ears because “it really isn’t that loud.”) And what better way is there to spend fifty minutes worth of lunchtime than trading stickers/bits of coloured paper/millipedes?
…and I’m sure that by now we ALL know who “Bugsy” is. Or what “I was born on a pirate ship” sounds like when spoken out loud. Ditto spelling out “I Cup.”
But at least by the end of it, we all came out better, well-adjusted people…or so we thought.
Year 11. We were at the top of our game. Serious conversations. Exams. Homework do-edness. Listening to mature, non twelve-year-old-target-audience music. Not falling asleep on the school bus…
So what is it about Year 12 that has a superior dorkifying effect on those going through it?
The year’s trickling away, and with it went the anti-dorkyness barriers that had taken years of quashing and repression to build up. Barely noticeable at first, I didn’t even really start to notice until this week. Maybe I should have twigged when I turned up on day one with Narnia and Spiderman maths exercise books…
After a few weeks of coming home on Friday to watch “H2O – Just add water” a program about teenage mermaids, and responding to arguments with “so’s your face.” (which I might add is totally legitimate…watch Scrubs. JD proves it) it was not until I found myself doing my English application while listening to “Wannabee” that the true extent of what shall now be known as “Twelvenoiditis” finally hit…
Wow I hope it’s not just me.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Superman
My computer keeps making freaky whoosh noises, which make me think its either going to implode, or take off back to its home planet.
That aside, I was actually trying to talk about something…which I have now forgotten. Well done concentration span and memory capacity, another tick in the “You Are Fantastic!” column.
Hmm…so, it’s been an awesome weekend. Well, everything except the homework. (wow, that sounded oh-so-very OC what with the starting things with “so”…how irrelevant) which in fact, I should probably be doing…ah well.
Actually, what I wanted to write about was the fascinating, extremely interesting concept that is: the afternoon nap. ( Warning: anecdote ahead) In prep, it was actually a lesson where the whole class would go to their cubby holes, and get out a specially brought from home blanket and pillow, find a place on the floor, carefully spread out, and then nap time would ensue, as exciting fun music would play in the background. It’s here that I’m going to confess that not once in the years that we did this did I actually go to sleep. It wasn’t from lack of trying. In fact, I was extremely jealous of those who could sleep, to the extent that I’d pretend, just to feel like part of the group (ooh, three year old peer pressure) ((also, I accidentally typed “froup”)) (((which could almost lead me to say: “Floop is a MADMAN! Help Us! Save Us!!!” but not quite…))) ((((This many brackets should probably be illegal)))) In the end to quell the monotony of forty minutes of not-sleep, poor old slush (my pig shaped pillow :p) ended up being defluffenated. Alternatively: I’d pass the time by pulling out some of cotton stuffing. Now he’s only half the pig he used to be.
Anyways, skipping forward a few years, the naps ceased, and work (wrote “wok”…it seems to be catching) increased…go rhyming! All of a sudden, you find yourself waking up on the bus, having been rudely awoken by an inconsiderate window making its presence known to the side of your head.
Maybe we’ve all got this round the wrong way. Should it, in fact be, the year 12s with the teddy bear blankets and soothing Old McDonald music?
Probably not. But still, it’d be good.
That aside, I was actually trying to talk about something…which I have now forgotten. Well done concentration span and memory capacity, another tick in the “You Are Fantastic!” column.
Hmm…so, it’s been an awesome weekend. Well, everything except the homework. (wow, that sounded oh-so-very OC what with the starting things with “so”…how irrelevant) which in fact, I should probably be doing…ah well.
Actually, what I wanted to write about was the fascinating, extremely interesting concept that is: the afternoon nap. ( Warning: anecdote ahead) In prep, it was actually a lesson where the whole class would go to their cubby holes, and get out a specially brought from home blanket and pillow, find a place on the floor, carefully spread out, and then nap time would ensue, as exciting fun music would play in the background. It’s here that I’m going to confess that not once in the years that we did this did I actually go to sleep. It wasn’t from lack of trying. In fact, I was extremely jealous of those who could sleep, to the extent that I’d pretend, just to feel like part of the group (ooh, three year old peer pressure) ((also, I accidentally typed “froup”)) (((which could almost lead me to say: “Floop is a MADMAN! Help Us! Save Us!!!” but not quite…))) ((((This many brackets should probably be illegal)))) In the end to quell the monotony of forty minutes of not-sleep, poor old slush (my pig shaped pillow :p) ended up being defluffenated. Alternatively: I’d pass the time by pulling out some of cotton stuffing. Now he’s only half the pig he used to be.
Anyways, skipping forward a few years, the naps ceased, and work (wrote “wok”…it seems to be catching) increased…go rhyming! All of a sudden, you find yourself waking up on the bus, having been rudely awoken by an inconsiderate window making its presence known to the side of your head.
Maybe we’ve all got this round the wrong way. Should it, in fact be, the year 12s with the teddy bear blankets and soothing Old McDonald music?
Probably not. But still, it’d be good.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Life's Fun When You're Having Fun
“… and then they made me their chief.” It worked for Johnny Depp, so, unable to think of an adequate opening, why shouldn’t I launch into a paragraph mid-sentence? Well, grammer maybe…actually, no! Hey, because it’s a quote I can start midway through a sentence all I want :D Wow, life’s fun when you’re having fun.
So anyways, today was the UMAT, and so brace yourselves – here comes a rambling blow-by-blow account:
I could begin by asking you to cast your minds back, back to last night, but that would be wrong for two reasons:
1) I’m not beginning, because this paragraph is preceeded by two others, and,
2) It would be casting your minds back to your memories, which I could not possibly describe. Why? Two reasons:
a. Though I may have been there for some of it….
Right, that could go on forever, I’m starting again…well, by starting, I mean starting that paragraph again…but wait, that’s wrong, because if I was starting that paragraph again, I would have deleted it, and actually literally started it again. So by starting, I actually mean…
Ok. NEW paragraph. Last night was a flurry of flurriedness, as last minute practice-exam-doing was being done, my phone was kept under extremely careful surveillance as we tried to answer the all important, Shakespeare-esque question: “To Uniform or not to Uniform?” That [was] the question :P (Or, my personal favourite Spike Milligan poem: “Said Hamlet to Ophelia, I’ll draw a sketch of thee. What kind of pencil shall I use? 2B or not 2B?”)
“The OC” was half watched, before scurrying (just try scurrying…it’s difficult) off to bed. After turning 45, 90, 60, -45, 45+90 degrees, and still managing to not be comfortable, sleep was finally achieved, and sustained, until the polyphonic-ised “Ride of the Valkyries” infiltrated my brain (but hey, it’s better than my alarm clock being what my phone calls “Groove” but which could better be described as “plonkety dirge”) After about fifteen minutes of pure faffing about, bread was transmogrified into toast, smeared with jam, then eatensoquickthatIendedupfinishingitinthecar.
We Smallvilled (that’s traveling while listening to the “Smallville” soundtrack) our way to the showgrounds, where I was one of the first few to arrive. Highlights of the wait included the doors being locked, so fellow UMATees were literally left out in the cold, until about ten minutes later, when we were sent to join them. It’s amazing how many people out of about a thousand you actually know or recognize.
After a surprisingly non-scary bottleneck, we were issued with a seat number, and ushered into the BIGGEST ROOM EVER!!! (That’s right, no other room in the history of MAN has EVER been the same size) Having filled in all the correct ovals, and marveled at the magnificent orangeness, It Began. Then stopped. “Can I please have your attention. Question 8: 1998 Forest Fires. I repeat. 1998 Forest Fires.” It was confusing. Other than that, it all went like clockwork (though I mean that in its intended context, its still a silly phrase. How many clocks are fast or slow and showing the wrong time?)
But anyway, overall its’ been a good day, not least because: DR WHO WAS ON THE FRONT COVER OF THE 7 DAYS LIFTOUT!!!
So anyways, today was the UMAT, and so brace yourselves – here comes a rambling blow-by-blow account:
I could begin by asking you to cast your minds back, back to last night, but that would be wrong for two reasons:
1) I’m not beginning, because this paragraph is preceeded by two others, and,
2) It would be casting your minds back to your memories, which I could not possibly describe. Why? Two reasons:
a. Though I may have been there for some of it….
Right, that could go on forever, I’m starting again…well, by starting, I mean starting that paragraph again…but wait, that’s wrong, because if I was starting that paragraph again, I would have deleted it, and actually literally started it again. So by starting, I actually mean…
Ok. NEW paragraph. Last night was a flurry of flurriedness, as last minute practice-exam-doing was being done, my phone was kept under extremely careful surveillance as we tried to answer the all important, Shakespeare-esque question: “To Uniform or not to Uniform?” That [was] the question :P (Or, my personal favourite Spike Milligan poem: “Said Hamlet to Ophelia, I’ll draw a sketch of thee. What kind of pencil shall I use? 2B or not 2B?”)
“The OC” was half watched, before scurrying (just try scurrying…it’s difficult) off to bed. After turning 45, 90, 60, -45, 45+90 degrees, and still managing to not be comfortable, sleep was finally achieved, and sustained, until the polyphonic-ised “Ride of the Valkyries” infiltrated my brain (but hey, it’s better than my alarm clock being what my phone calls “Groove” but which could better be described as “plonkety dirge”) After about fifteen minutes of pure faffing about, bread was transmogrified into toast, smeared with jam, then eatensoquickthatIendedupfinishingitinthecar.
We Smallvilled (that’s traveling while listening to the “Smallville” soundtrack) our way to the showgrounds, where I was one of the first few to arrive. Highlights of the wait included the doors being locked, so fellow UMATees were literally left out in the cold, until about ten minutes later, when we were sent to join them. It’s amazing how many people out of about a thousand you actually know or recognize.
After a surprisingly non-scary bottleneck, we were issued with a seat number, and ushered into the BIGGEST ROOM EVER!!! (That’s right, no other room in the history of MAN has EVER been the same size) Having filled in all the correct ovals, and marveled at the magnificent orangeness, It Began. Then stopped. “Can I please have your attention. Question 8: 1998 Forest Fires. I repeat. 1998 Forest Fires.” It was confusing. Other than that, it all went like clockwork (though I mean that in its intended context, its still a silly phrase. How many clocks are fast or slow and showing the wrong time?)
But anyway, overall its’ been a good day, not least because: DR WHO WAS ON THE FRONT COVER OF THE 7 DAYS LIFTOUT!!!
Friday, July 21, 2006
Gibber English
What does one do with themselves without the structure of school to lead you by the hand through the day? You could pass the time constructively, doing homework, or UMAT practice. (certainly not by watching the entire season 3 of Scrubs in less than three days…) You could tidy your room, or… improve your Gibber-English vocabulary!
Take for example:
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
i is good at the english
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
i learn him from a book
That's texbook enigmatic says:
he is a naughty language. Not liking the spik.
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
my dog likes to purple! does yours paper?
That's texbook enigmatic says:
the turtles! the turtles! The lady has the cloth!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the shoe to hit the clock!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
my brothers scarf, it goes beneath the head!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
my brothers hand sock to wear the book!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
No, no, the vase it polished the soot!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
but the soot is my family photo!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
it goes in the mantlepiece, next to the pine!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the papercut lies in the water!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
which is yellowed by the monkey basket!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the monkey basket!! get the table!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
the father has seen the nest!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the birds see the card!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
The card which is the card of my uncle's aunt!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
she is the telephone!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
the grandfather is behind the shell!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the clock is towards the cellar!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
she wants the eel of Christmas!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
not the eel! he is my chopstick!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
it lives beneath the bowl!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
but the cd! the cd!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
it calls my brother in the night!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the bracelet is on the scissors!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
the monkey laughs and the paper it white!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the man in the clock! he wear seven ribbon!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
his shoes the steamer tie!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
*stReamer
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the streamer sees the battery!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
it lights the sky with the fish
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the horse eats the fish's nose's eyes
That's texbook enigmatic says:
while purple, he is the cat
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
but my dog purples!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
he itches without the ear!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the ticket the ear's seven!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
he closes the trapdoor! Pickles!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
pickles!! get the charging bull!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
he reads the word heavily!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the teeths run the pen!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
if only he carary oftener!
Embrace Gibber-English! The language of The Future!!!
Take for example:
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
i is good at the english
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
i learn him from a book
That's texbook enigmatic says:
he is a naughty language. Not liking the spik.
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
my dog likes to purple! does yours paper?
That's texbook enigmatic says:
the turtles! the turtles! The lady has the cloth!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the shoe to hit the clock!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
my brothers scarf, it goes beneath the head!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
my brothers hand sock to wear the book!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
No, no, the vase it polished the soot!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
but the soot is my family photo!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
it goes in the mantlepiece, next to the pine!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the papercut lies in the water!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
which is yellowed by the monkey basket!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the monkey basket!! get the table!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
the father has seen the nest!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the birds see the card!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
The card which is the card of my uncle's aunt!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
she is the telephone!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
the grandfather is behind the shell!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the clock is towards the cellar!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
she wants the eel of Christmas!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
not the eel! he is my chopstick!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
it lives beneath the bowl!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
but the cd! the cd!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
it calls my brother in the night!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the bracelet is on the scissors!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
the monkey laughs and the paper it white!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the man in the clock! he wear seven ribbon!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
his shoes the steamer tie!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
*stReamer
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the streamer sees the battery!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
it lights the sky with the fish
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the horse eats the fish's nose's eyes
That's texbook enigmatic says:
while purple, he is the cat
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
but my dog purples!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
he itches without the ear!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the ticket the ear's seven!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
he closes the trapdoor! Pickles!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
pickles!! get the charging bull!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
he reads the word heavily!
sez ;; capital letters are overrated says:
the teeths run the pen!
That's texbook enigmatic says:
if only he carary oftener!
Embrace Gibber-English! The language of The Future!!!
Thursday, July 06, 2006
The All-New-and-Improved Neighbours!
Once you find yourself treading in the dangerous “Once-Upon-A-Tree-Lived-Some-Pineapples-Who-Didn’t-Like-People territory, you know that you’ve been playing bus travelling games for too long.
…I’m sorry. The previous statement had nothing to do with anything. Personally I blame “Erasure.”
It’s the “Penultimate Day” of Term Two, which means one thing, and one thing only…ASSIGNMENTS! So, taking that into careful consideration, I’m going to catch the fastest tangent-bus away, and concentrate on television.
In a week of heartfelt whinging at t.v’s expense, I feel thoroughly left out, and so would like to put forward the following suggested improvement:
Neighbours. Where is the reality? Boyd is doing a medical degree, and yet is never at university, and instead has spent the last two weeks “gadding about.” It’s time that Neighbours took a leaf out of the 24 book, and started filming in real time. This is most definitely what the Australian public wants, and so I have taken the liberty of preparing the following excerpt from:
“The All-New-and-Improved Neighbours!!!”
[Fades in from Black, to The Opening Credits. Simon and Garfunkle’s “Bridge Over Troubled Waters” plays on loop in the background, while the screen displays various black and white pictures of flowerpots. After ten minutes, this fades out to black. Tense music is playing in the background while the screen remains dark, when it fades to reveal…]
Boyd sitting at a desk, angle-poise lamp trained on a GIANT textbook, while he quietly makes notes in green pen. The camera angle does not change, and there is no sound, except for the incessant dripping of a tap, which gets increasingly louder. After 5 minutes of this…
Boyd: I feel I can stand this dripping no longer!
He walks out of shot. There is three minutes of pure, textbook filled screen, while in the background the sound of an epic battle between man and tap can be heard. Finally the dripping stops, and Boyd re-enters the frame, now wearing a different shirt. This is not explained.
Boyd: Ah! Now. Back to the study!
The scene continues much in this way, including memorable moments such as: “Boyd highlights a paragraph about the lumbar system,” “Car playing Doof Doof music drives past the window,” “Max brings Boyd a glass of Water,” and finally, the episode's cliffhanger: “Oh where has my mechanical pencil gone?”
What do you think? Give the public what they want!
Hmm…or maybe I’m sleep deprived.
…I’m sorry. The previous statement had nothing to do with anything. Personally I blame “Erasure.”
It’s the “Penultimate Day” of Term Two, which means one thing, and one thing only…ASSIGNMENTS! So, taking that into careful consideration, I’m going to catch the fastest tangent-bus away, and concentrate on television.
In a week of heartfelt whinging at t.v’s expense, I feel thoroughly left out, and so would like to put forward the following suggested improvement:
Neighbours. Where is the reality? Boyd is doing a medical degree, and yet is never at university, and instead has spent the last two weeks “gadding about.” It’s time that Neighbours took a leaf out of the 24 book, and started filming in real time. This is most definitely what the Australian public wants, and so I have taken the liberty of preparing the following excerpt from:
“The All-New-and-Improved Neighbours!!!”
[Fades in from Black, to The Opening Credits. Simon and Garfunkle’s “Bridge Over Troubled Waters” plays on loop in the background, while the screen displays various black and white pictures of flowerpots. After ten minutes, this fades out to black. Tense music is playing in the background while the screen remains dark, when it fades to reveal…]
Boyd sitting at a desk, angle-poise lamp trained on a GIANT textbook, while he quietly makes notes in green pen. The camera angle does not change, and there is no sound, except for the incessant dripping of a tap, which gets increasingly louder. After 5 minutes of this…
Boyd: I feel I can stand this dripping no longer!
He walks out of shot. There is three minutes of pure, textbook filled screen, while in the background the sound of an epic battle between man and tap can be heard. Finally the dripping stops, and Boyd re-enters the frame, now wearing a different shirt. This is not explained.
Boyd: Ah! Now. Back to the study!
The scene continues much in this way, including memorable moments such as: “Boyd highlights a paragraph about the lumbar system,” “Car playing Doof Doof music drives past the window,” “Max brings Boyd a glass of Water,” and finally, the episode's cliffhanger: “Oh where has my mechanical pencil gone?”
What do you think? Give the public what they want!
Hmm…or maybe I’m sleep deprived.
Monday, July 03, 2006
Technological Rebellion
I don’t understand my computer’s newfound disdain for me. Not only is it an assassin of conversation, it is an avid supported of the Windows Blue Screen of Death, the dreaded hue appearing at regular intervals, proclaiming the occurrence of some random “Fatal Error” known only by an illuminating name such as: “F110942HK00”.
It’s not as though it is mistreated, or acting out in a pre-teen (it’s only six years old) rebellion. Does it have it’s own space? Yes! Does it get regular attention? Yes! Does it get weekly, time consuming anti-virus scans? Yes!
So what is causing this rift, nay void that’s ever increasing in size? Acting out, it won’t go to sleep when I tell it to, and as a result, takes ages to get going the next day.
…it must be in cahoots with “The Bag.”
It’s not as though it is mistreated, or acting out in a pre-teen (it’s only six years old) rebellion. Does it have it’s own space? Yes! Does it get regular attention? Yes! Does it get weekly, time consuming anti-virus scans? Yes!
So what is causing this rift, nay void that’s ever increasing in size? Acting out, it won’t go to sleep when I tell it to, and as a result, takes ages to get going the next day.
…it must be in cahoots with “The Bag.”
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Gallivanting
If you try to type while listening to “California”, you’ll soon discover that the only sentence your mind is able to process is “If you try to type while listening to ‘California’, you’ll soon discover that the only sentence your mind is able to process is ‘If you try to type while listening to “California”…etc.
Really long story short: It’s Difficult. So what does that mean? Headphones and studying = not such a great idea.
Yes, it’s time for Installment Number Three of the week that is: Exam. Sleep deprived and mildly grumpy, we enter week nine of this term, ready for another rip-roaring five days of Rexvor Namralos (gibberish for “I can’t think of an adjective”).
The days leading up are fully filled with frantic frenzies of study, intense neurological abuse and lack of sleep. By the time you emerge, your BIOS (Basic Input Output System) will be completely equipped with (what should be) accrued knowledge in all matters spectrum, hopefully having not gone off on a tangent during study time.
[Omit 73 pages of confused, subject-related rambling here]
So before wading back into my schoolbag, I just want to note some unlikely similarities between petrol and sleep in year 12:
· The year progresses, and they both become less affordable.
· They are both a form of fuel.
· You can run on empty for a few days, but it will really mess with your mechanics.
· You can only have a specific amount of either. To much or two little is bad
Really long story short: It’s Difficult. So what does that mean? Headphones and studying = not such a great idea.
Yes, it’s time for Installment Number Three of the week that is: Exam. Sleep deprived and mildly grumpy, we enter week nine of this term, ready for another rip-roaring five days of Rexvor Namralos (gibberish for “I can’t think of an adjective”).
The days leading up are fully filled with frantic frenzies of study, intense neurological abuse and lack of sleep. By the time you emerge, your BIOS (Basic Input Output System) will be completely equipped with (what should be) accrued knowledge in all matters spectrum, hopefully having not gone off on a tangent during study time.
[Omit 73 pages of confused, subject-related rambling here]
So before wading back into my schoolbag, I just want to note some unlikely similarities between petrol and sleep in year 12:
· The year progresses, and they both become less affordable.
· They are both a form of fuel.
· You can run on empty for a few days, but it will really mess with your mechanics.
· You can only have a specific amount of either. To much or two little is bad
Friday, June 16, 2006
CHASE!
I am typing in this space,
Words that rhyme…
"Ace," "lace," "face"?
Would this poem be better,
Had I used "race"?
I could talk of cars,
Could’ve been a better base,
But I did not,
So in any case,
I’ll confuse them all,
By calling it: “CHASE!”
Words that rhyme…
"Ace," "lace," "face"?
Would this poem be better,
Had I used "race"?
I could talk of cars,
Could’ve been a better base,
But I did not,
So in any case,
I’ll confuse them all,
By calling it: “CHASE!”
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Numbers
"So, I guess today's, like, the apocalypse." It's Tuesday, and also 6/6/06, so it seems fitting to start with an "OC-esque" opening line. [ This would then be followed by about 10 seconds worth of awkward eye contact, then multiple shots of surfers and sunshine, possibly with some version of "had a bad day", or something of that persuasion playing in the background, before cutting to the opening credits ]
But back to the point of the numerical significance of today. It being the "Devil's Day" and all, it seems surprisingly devoid of horses, let alone dark hooded skeletal figures (which is oddly very Lord of the Rings...) bathed in fire appearing in a line accross the sky...not that I'm complaining. I tried to find out what's supposed to actually be happening today, and sources vastly differ, from the Apocalypse, revelation of the antichrist (one source believes theres one in every generation which makes today completely obselete, thus making their own article void, because why are they writing about a day which, according to them, makes no difference?) to the beginning of 7 years of tribulation. Some say that the devil's number isn't 666 at all, and that it is merely a misinterpretation of a reference to the "Evil Emperor Nero" and that in other publications it appears as 616. Others have worked out "bible coding" which allows them to convert the names of famous leaders in history, including past presidents and popes, into 666.
In any case, I don't really understand it. So instead I'll go off on an extremely different direction and ask a question that's been on my mind for a while:
So, do you think the person with the mobile number: 0445683968 knows that it spells "04 I love you"?
But back to the point of the numerical significance of today. It being the "Devil's Day" and all, it seems surprisingly devoid of horses, let alone dark hooded skeletal figures (which is oddly very Lord of the Rings...) bathed in fire appearing in a line accross the sky...not that I'm complaining. I tried to find out what's supposed to actually be happening today, and sources vastly differ, from the Apocalypse, revelation of the antichrist (one source believes theres one in every generation which makes today completely obselete, thus making their own article void, because why are they writing about a day which, according to them, makes no difference?) to the beginning of 7 years of tribulation. Some say that the devil's number isn't 666 at all, and that it is merely a misinterpretation of a reference to the "Evil Emperor Nero" and that in other publications it appears as 616. Others have worked out "bible coding" which allows them to convert the names of famous leaders in history, including past presidents and popes, into 666.
In any case, I don't really understand it. So instead I'll go off on an extremely different direction and ask a question that's been on my mind for a while:
So, do you think the person with the mobile number: 0445683968 knows that it spells "04 I love you"?
Saturday, June 03, 2006
"Fud wi Colb's"
It’s a lot of “fud” when “soft and gentle” tissues become equivalent to “Super Strength Sandpaper,” butter menthols are consumed by the square metre, your stomach muscles are strengthened by random bouts of coughing (which, oddly enough, seem to always happen the second after you’ve said “I’m Fine.”) and you wake up saying “There was a bird in my room…I opened the window and it wouldn’t leave until the Pedal Prix Parents were at the front door!” (…as you do?!?)
Colds: an exercise in modern pointlessness. They wouldn’t be nearly as irritating as they are if they served some kind of useful function in society. Maybe if they strengthened your immune system? But no, there are HUNDREDS of cold varieties, so the only thing you become immune to is the particular cold that has sunk its tissued claws into you this time.
They begin innocently enough. A slight twinge at the back of your throat, small enough to give you the impression that a sip of water will soon sort that out. However, slowly it begins to grow, until you find yourself grimacing as you talk. Soon you find yourself quite unable to say “rhodedendrums” without different parts of your face moving to create fascinating images of “embarrassing-grimace-pain.”
Next comes the nose problems. Having come home and consumed about a swimming pool’s worth of liquid, you find that you need to blow your nose. Here’s where things start to get strange. You blow your nose once; and you start to feel worse!!! It’s as though the more you blow, the more clogged your nose, until you find yourself seriously contemplating the “She’s The Man” solution… (just for the record, I didn’t. )
By that time you’ re feeling and looking utterly decrepit (or at least like Rudolph the red nosed koala) and you’ve coughed so much, you’re actually bored of the sound, like a really crappy song you’ve heard over and over again. (mostly because its all one pitch, except for occasional double layers of bass…)
But in the end, what can you do to make yourself feel better? (and this time the answer’s not “Soap Rant!”. Let me explain with an example:
From a Monty Python Sketch:
[A Man holding a bird cage walks into a pet shop, where another man is ducking behind the counter looking for something:]
Man with Cage: “Excuse me! Miss? Miss!”
[man continues looking behind counter]
Man with Cage: “Miss? MISS!”
[owner pops up]
Owner: “What do you mean ‘Miss’?”
[Man with cage looks at him for a moment]
Man with Cage: [pause] “Oh I’m sorry, I have a cold.”
Say and do random things! Then BLAME THE COLD!!! (maybe that doesn’t make sense…oh well, I have a cold :P )
Colds: an exercise in modern pointlessness. They wouldn’t be nearly as irritating as they are if they served some kind of useful function in society. Maybe if they strengthened your immune system? But no, there are HUNDREDS of cold varieties, so the only thing you become immune to is the particular cold that has sunk its tissued claws into you this time.
They begin innocently enough. A slight twinge at the back of your throat, small enough to give you the impression that a sip of water will soon sort that out. However, slowly it begins to grow, until you find yourself grimacing as you talk. Soon you find yourself quite unable to say “rhodedendrums” without different parts of your face moving to create fascinating images of “embarrassing-grimace-pain.”
Next comes the nose problems. Having come home and consumed about a swimming pool’s worth of liquid, you find that you need to blow your nose. Here’s where things start to get strange. You blow your nose once; and you start to feel worse!!! It’s as though the more you blow, the more clogged your nose, until you find yourself seriously contemplating the “She’s The Man” solution… (just for the record, I didn’t. )
By that time you’ re feeling and looking utterly decrepit (or at least like Rudolph the red nosed koala) and you’ve coughed so much, you’re actually bored of the sound, like a really crappy song you’ve heard over and over again. (mostly because its all one pitch, except for occasional double layers of bass…)
But in the end, what can you do to make yourself feel better? (and this time the answer’s not “Soap Rant!”. Let me explain with an example:
From a Monty Python Sketch:
[A Man holding a bird cage walks into a pet shop, where another man is ducking behind the counter looking for something:]
Man with Cage: “Excuse me! Miss? Miss!”
[man continues looking behind counter]
Man with Cage: “Miss? MISS!”
[owner pops up]
Owner: “What do you mean ‘Miss’?”
[Man with cage looks at him for a moment]
Man with Cage: [pause] “Oh I’m sorry, I have a cold.”
Say and do random things! Then BLAME THE COLD!!! (maybe that doesn’t make sense…oh well, I have a cold :P )
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Soap Rant
When brain-ache’s come knocking at your forehead, and you wake up to find that your throat has been mysteriously sandpapered in the night, how does one cheer themselves up?
( Note: Not with generous servings of Specialist Maths questions)
No, the way to cheer yourselves up is with a good, old fashioned Soap Rant! What’s that? Well, for everyone who hasn’t experienced one, I’ll transcribe one as follows:
Cast your mind back to when the formal had just finished, with tornado-proof hair, and ouchy-feet, something to look forward to was a loooong shower. Now, pretty much anyone who’s seen Psycho is already a bit on edge when embarking upon a mission of cleansing, so any sudden shocks can tip you over the edge of your nerve limit.
Anyways, this was my mind-frame on that Sunday – this was my mind-frame when I discovered that the tranquility scented soap, wasn’t as tranquil as it proclaimed to be!
Standing calmly, trying not to shampoo your eye – reach out for the glint of purple at the corner of your vision only to discover….
FREAKY SOAP FACE!!!
...ok, a bit random I know, but I'm SLEEPY!
( Note: Not with generous servings of Specialist Maths questions)
No, the way to cheer yourselves up is with a good, old fashioned Soap Rant! What’s that? Well, for everyone who hasn’t experienced one, I’ll transcribe one as follows:
Cast your mind back to when the formal had just finished, with tornado-proof hair, and ouchy-feet, something to look forward to was a loooong shower. Now, pretty much anyone who’s seen Psycho is already a bit on edge when embarking upon a mission of cleansing, so any sudden shocks can tip you over the edge of your nerve limit.
Anyways, this was my mind-frame on that Sunday – this was my mind-frame when I discovered that the tranquility scented soap, wasn’t as tranquil as it proclaimed to be!
Standing calmly, trying not to shampoo your eye – reach out for the glint of purple at the corner of your vision only to discover….
FREAKY SOAP FACE!!!
...ok, a bit random I know, but I'm SLEEPY!
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Squash Asparagus
What’s the definition of a “good time”? This could be a deep and meaningful, philosophical question - it could be rhetorical. Or, it could be straightforward.
This question that has plagued us (well, maybe not so much…hands up whoever’s had loooong sleepless nights of pondering “The True Meaning of Fun”?) *cough* finally has an answer!
…and truly, who though it would involve red frogs with protruding hearts/legs, ritual group animal-print balloon sacrifice, kiwi stamped napkins (serviettes?), flower shaped butter, “being attacked by sharks,” eating cake with improvised tongs, the pitter patter of painful feet, flaunting it “what your mamma gave you”, doing U-turns on dark roads while “bussing it”, flower-fueled head-banging, staring down the barrel of a camera, discovering the monarch of all things pancake, the lies, deception and subterfuge of the Non-Wedge, and an accidental subscription to a year’s worth of rain?
The 2006 Black Watch Formal is GO!
I was surprised to discover this actually, as a person who ardently despises being in photos, can’t dance, and who could actually win an Oscar for comedy merely by tottering around in high heels, my expectations were not Apollo high...(The Einstein Factor teaches me new things)
That’ll teach me for having a negative attitude…It all comes down to relaxation in the end (but not tranquility…more on that another day) Careful though…if you’re too off guard, you’ll find yourself revealing the finer facts of your past… Take this from having learnt the hard way: you might think that everyone stockpiled butter packets in case of earthquakes when they were young…but you’d be wrong :P All in all, what I'm trying to say is: WOOT!
So unable to think of a way to adequately finish this off, lets get into some serious mathematics:
Calmness = Good Photos (bar some, where the dubious face may need to be implemented - _ -
Cake + Fork + Spoon = Much Confusion
Table + Lollies = Endless Fun
Table – Lollies = Ended Fun
Hair + Hedge/Wall/Hanging Light = Zany Highjinks and Tangles :)
Asparagus = Leftovers
5 x 3 = 15
This question that has plagued us (well, maybe not so much…hands up whoever’s had loooong sleepless nights of pondering “The True Meaning of Fun”?) *cough* finally has an answer!
…and truly, who though it would involve red frogs with protruding hearts/legs, ritual group animal-print balloon sacrifice, kiwi stamped napkins (serviettes?), flower shaped butter, “being attacked by sharks,” eating cake with improvised tongs, the pitter patter of painful feet, flaunting it “what your mamma gave you”, doing U-turns on dark roads while “bussing it”, flower-fueled head-banging, staring down the barrel of a camera, discovering the monarch of all things pancake, the lies, deception and subterfuge of the Non-Wedge, and an accidental subscription to a year’s worth of rain?
The 2006 Black Watch Formal is GO!
I was surprised to discover this actually, as a person who ardently despises being in photos, can’t dance, and who could actually win an Oscar for comedy merely by tottering around in high heels, my expectations were not Apollo high...(The Einstein Factor teaches me new things)
That’ll teach me for having a negative attitude…It all comes down to relaxation in the end (but not tranquility…more on that another day) Careful though…if you’re too off guard, you’ll find yourself revealing the finer facts of your past… Take this from having learnt the hard way: you might think that everyone stockpiled butter packets in case of earthquakes when they were young…but you’d be wrong :P All in all, what I'm trying to say is: WOOT!
So unable to think of a way to adequately finish this off, lets get into some serious mathematics:
Calmness = Good Photos (bar some, where the dubious face may need to be implemented - _ -
Cake + Fork + Spoon = Much Confusion
Table + Lollies = Endless Fun
Table – Lollies = Ended Fun
Hair + Hedge/Wall/Hanging Light = Zany Highjinks and Tangles :)
Asparagus = Leftovers
5 x 3 = 15
Monday, May 01, 2006
Unexpected Scrutiny
It was one day, when I was sitting in the car, that the realisation finally hit me. For my whole life, until that point, the thought had never really crossed my mind, or if it had, it had been of so little significance, that I had cast it aside before really going into the depths of it. The fact is, you are not, as previously thought, in your own, relatively private world, shaded behind the surrounding glass: you can be seen, by everybody and anybody… you are horribly exposed to the outside world.
Now maybe this doesn’t sound that remarkable. I mean, obviously, people can see you, it’s not as though I used to think that, the moment you hopped into the car, you assimilated yourself into a world of invisibility, where, behind the tinted windows, you could do as you liked. But, there was always a sense, that when you’re in your car, you’re not as apparent to the outside world, as you are when, say, you’re walking down Rundle Mall wearing a jumper of which you are dubious about the nature of its social acceptability…(or, looking as though you have just emerged from spending the last week of your life living in a puddle, as I did this morning…quote of the day: ((little girl talking to her dad, and pointing at me)) “look at that lady’s hair ”) It was just the sudden shock of realising, you are just as visible when you are coasting along the road, as when you are out walking.
The same thing applies when you’re a pedestrian. You don’t think anyone’s watching you as prance about, swinging bags, or stacking it over a loose piece of pavement, because they’re just cars whizzing by, not people…
How wrong we were. Anyways, that thought weirded me out, so I thought I’d share.
To put a Harry Potter spin on the matter:
Now maybe this doesn’t sound that remarkable. I mean, obviously, people can see you, it’s not as though I used to think that, the moment you hopped into the car, you assimilated yourself into a world of invisibility, where, behind the tinted windows, you could do as you liked. But, there was always a sense, that when you’re in your car, you’re not as apparent to the outside world, as you are when, say, you’re walking down Rundle Mall wearing a jumper of which you are dubious about the nature of its social acceptability…(or, looking as though you have just emerged from spending the last week of your life living in a puddle, as I did this morning…quote of the day: ((little girl talking to her dad, and pointing at me)) “look at that lady’s hair ”) It was just the sudden shock of realising, you are just as visible when you are coasting along the road, as when you are out walking.
The same thing applies when you’re a pedestrian. You don’t think anyone’s watching you as prance about, swinging bags, or stacking it over a loose piece of pavement, because they’re just cars whizzing by, not people…
How wrong we were. Anyways, that thought weirded me out, so I thought I’d share.
To put a Harry Potter spin on the matter:
Thursday, April 20, 2006
The Real Monopoly
Have you ever walked down a street only to find yourself being sucked inside a building and having money demanded from you by a card wielding property owner?
Monopoly - Teaching us how to function in the real world.
It’s the educational board game that teaches you real life values, and how to handle yourself in the property market. If you play your cards right (literally) you can become a multi-thousandanaire by the end of three hours, and have driven your whole family into bankruptcy or debt.
Conversely, the player who started on a roll (of the lucky dice persuasion) could be holding you and your friends to such a high ransom, that you quake with fear every time you see yourself rounding a corner heavy in enemy houses…
Just. Like. Real. Life.
…or not.
But what would life be like if it really was reflective of a good ‘ol game of Monoppers?
So we’ve covered the whole being suckedbysuperhumanforcesintoahouse side of things, lets get into the whole going to jail aspect.
It’s a nice day, and one is happily walking along when: WHOA! Teleportation Device!!! Suddenly they find themselves trapped in a square prison, diagonally opposite from where they were. But hey, its all good because they can easily get out by either paying $50 worth of bail, or having three cracks at displaying mean feats of luck-having. It’s all good.
They’re out again, and ready to get back to toddling down the street. But HALT! You have to throw a dice to see how many plots of land you can pass! 7 Houses later, “oh good! One of the only three other people who can potentially purchase land in this neighbourhood has neglected to buy this particular property!” Quickly whip out your wallet and take out a percentage of your total of $1500 and pay the bank (which is conveniently located within arms reach) and immediately receive the title of the house.
You wait for the other people to move, then again throw the dice. “CRAP!” you find yourself standing on a giant question mark/hat which tells you that it is necessary for you to pay $100 to everyone else within eyesight for some random reason. Pay up, or you’ll be kicked off the street and into oblivion.
Next move, you find yourself receiving $200 merely for walking around in a complete circle…can’t keep if for long however, because you find that you’ve landed in the tax office, which immediately demands that you pay them for having the sheer AUDACITY to step within ten metres of their building. There goes that windfall…
And then the whole cycle begins again, with the two/three/four/five/six of you circling the block over and over and over again, until finally one of you is rolling in money, whilst the others are frantically searching for things to mortgage, despite being sound in the knowledge that they will never be out of debt for long enough to purchase extensions for their suckinginrenters properties…
Ah well, though maybe not so realistic its definitely an interesting concept.
…and a very fun game!:P
Monopoly - Teaching us how to function in the real world.
It’s the educational board game that teaches you real life values, and how to handle yourself in the property market. If you play your cards right (literally) you can become a multi-thousandanaire by the end of three hours, and have driven your whole family into bankruptcy or debt.
Conversely, the player who started on a roll (of the lucky dice persuasion) could be holding you and your friends to such a high ransom, that you quake with fear every time you see yourself rounding a corner heavy in enemy houses…
Just. Like. Real. Life.
…or not.
But what would life be like if it really was reflective of a good ‘ol game of Monoppers?
So we’ve covered the whole being suckedbysuperhumanforcesintoahouse side of things, lets get into the whole going to jail aspect.
It’s a nice day, and one is happily walking along when: WHOA! Teleportation Device!!! Suddenly they find themselves trapped in a square prison, diagonally opposite from where they were. But hey, its all good because they can easily get out by either paying $50 worth of bail, or having three cracks at displaying mean feats of luck-having. It’s all good.
They’re out again, and ready to get back to toddling down the street. But HALT! You have to throw a dice to see how many plots of land you can pass! 7 Houses later, “oh good! One of the only three other people who can potentially purchase land in this neighbourhood has neglected to buy this particular property!” Quickly whip out your wallet and take out a percentage of your total of $1500 and pay the bank (which is conveniently located within arms reach) and immediately receive the title of the house.
You wait for the other people to move, then again throw the dice. “CRAP!” you find yourself standing on a giant question mark/hat which tells you that it is necessary for you to pay $100 to everyone else within eyesight for some random reason. Pay up, or you’ll be kicked off the street and into oblivion.
Next move, you find yourself receiving $200 merely for walking around in a complete circle…can’t keep if for long however, because you find that you’ve landed in the tax office, which immediately demands that you pay them for having the sheer AUDACITY to step within ten metres of their building. There goes that windfall…
And then the whole cycle begins again, with the two/three/four/five/six of you circling the block over and over and over again, until finally one of you is rolling in money, whilst the others are frantically searching for things to mortgage, despite being sound in the knowledge that they will never be out of debt for long enough to purchase extensions for their suckinginrenters properties…
Ah well, though maybe not so realistic its definitely an interesting concept.
…and a very fun game!:P
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Down with Doors!
As the dominant species on earth we have evolved with intelligence, (which, interestingly I just misspelt…twice) intellect and most importantly, independence, the ability to do things for ourselves…or at least we like to think so.
You’re walking along. It isn't really important where. The only matter of significance is that at the end of the walk, you are aiming to find yourself within a building/shop/classroom (because, like, classrooms and shops aren’t classified as buildings…) Your target comes into sight, the door is only seven steps away and….
Here we take a brief interlude. See, at this point, we are still the picture perfect image of what a dominant species should be. We have the motivation , the willpower and the arm strength to just step forward, and open the door. It is here that society begins to unravel.
…out of nowhere comes someone else, heading towards the same building!!! You’re still about 3.78 metres away, so they get there first and casually swing the door open. That’s where it happens. Something inherent in your mind snaps. You just have to get to the door before it closes.
90 degrees, 70 degrees, 45 degrees…it swings closer and closer to the doorframe. Lurching forward, you get to it just the final inch disappears. Feeling victorious, you swing the door wide open and strut indoors; the hero of the hour.
But what happens if you don’t get there in time? In floods come the depression, the anger, the angst. Second guessing yourself, wondering why, why you couldn’t get there just a nanosecond earlier…
Why do we care so much? If only that other person had not stepped in, there wouldn’t have been an issue. We are all perfectly capable of opening a door.
Maybe it has something to do with the same impulse that powers people to drive across 70 metres of car park to put their rubbish in the dumpster…
So, we have so many books, movies, poems etc. about the inherent flaw within mankind, and the tragic “human condition.” All exploring in excruciating detail, what we are doing to bring about our own downfall, never offering solutions, just doom, gloom, sadness and sorrow, all reasons why there’ll be badness tomorrow...
Did they ever just think to get rid of all doors?
Oh, and this is a good site…if you can catch it :P
You’re walking along. It isn't really important where. The only matter of significance is that at the end of the walk, you are aiming to find yourself within a building/shop/classroom (because, like, classrooms and shops aren’t classified as buildings…) Your target comes into sight, the door is only seven steps away and….
Here we take a brief interlude. See, at this point, we are still the picture perfect image of what a dominant species should be. We have the motivation , the willpower and the arm strength to just step forward, and open the door. It is here that society begins to unravel.
…out of nowhere comes someone else, heading towards the same building!!! You’re still about 3.78 metres away, so they get there first and casually swing the door open. That’s where it happens. Something inherent in your mind snaps. You just have to get to the door before it closes.
90 degrees, 70 degrees, 45 degrees…it swings closer and closer to the doorframe. Lurching forward, you get to it just the final inch disappears. Feeling victorious, you swing the door wide open and strut indoors; the hero of the hour.
But what happens if you don’t get there in time? In floods come the depression, the anger, the angst. Second guessing yourself, wondering why, why you couldn’t get there just a nanosecond earlier…
Why do we care so much? If only that other person had not stepped in, there wouldn’t have been an issue. We are all perfectly capable of opening a door.
Maybe it has something to do with the same impulse that powers people to drive across 70 metres of car park to put their rubbish in the dumpster…
So, we have so many books, movies, poems etc. about the inherent flaw within mankind, and the tragic “human condition.” All exploring in excruciating detail, what we are doing to bring about our own downfall, never offering solutions, just doom, gloom, sadness and sorrow, all reasons why there’ll be badness tomorrow...
Did they ever just think to get rid of all doors?
Oh, and this is a good site…if you can catch it :P
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Flamingos are Overrated
Thundering along as though friction was something for the weak of heart, Red forces the yellow behind the pin with a gentle-yet-menacing “flpff,” to a position which would take even a skilled player at least two shots to recover from. Through the deafening silence a British Accent seizes the opportunity to interject… ”Jolly good shot!” it says, and with that, the entire process begins again.
Yes, the day has come. Where once it was the celebrated stomping ground of a Flamingo-wielding Queen with a penchant for abusing hedgehogs and beheading personified cards, Croquet has become: the new “it” teenage sport.
Now, although some have foregone their opportunity to stare Alice in Wonderland in the face and say “you’re using the wrong mallet,” 20+ year 12 students have relished the opportunity to hit coloured spheres through tiny archways using only a very, very large gavel (or was that mallet?) and their extremely superior tactical skills.
Now “stalk it, STALK IT” have joined the ranks of “cool” and “like” (a word that “isn’t even slang, it just doesn’t make sense” – Dad) in the exclusive literary marvel that is: teenage vocabulary.
Not only does it enrich your language, Croquet is also therapeutic. In games such as football, (which was SO good!) rugby or soccer, aggression is not only obvious, but can also be penalised. However, in Croquet, it is actually tactical. Knocking someone else’s ball out of the way gives you another shot…”oops, knocked it too far…didn’t mean to!” It’s passive aggressive heaven!
It’s a game in which you don’t need to: run, jump over things (though there are a few “wayward” balls that can suddenly come hurtling in your direction…again with the passive aggressive :P ) be attached to another person by means of skipping rope, fall off a bike, or even walk long distances. Yet, at the same time, it is good for improving hand eye coordination, “social skills”, and frustration management (a new and improved form of “anger management”) when everyone else is standing around the pin, ball in hand, watching in amusement as your ball bounces off the archway, and somehow, defying physics, shoots off at 45 degrees towards the next field…good times.
So for all of you wondering, what is high on a teenage mind’s priority list? Formal dresses? Hasn’t even begun to enter into common room conversations. Parties or going out? Not with all the exciting study there is to do. Television or movies? Well, yes. But really, at the moment only one word is tantamount to understanding the teenage psyche, and that is: “flpff.”
Yes, the day has come. Where once it was the celebrated stomping ground of a Flamingo-wielding Queen with a penchant for abusing hedgehogs and beheading personified cards, Croquet has become: the new “it” teenage sport.
Now, although some have foregone their opportunity to stare Alice in Wonderland in the face and say “you’re using the wrong mallet,” 20+ year 12 students have relished the opportunity to hit coloured spheres through tiny archways using only a very, very large gavel (or was that mallet?) and their extremely superior tactical skills.
Now “stalk it, STALK IT” have joined the ranks of “cool” and “like” (a word that “isn’t even slang, it just doesn’t make sense” – Dad) in the exclusive literary marvel that is: teenage vocabulary.
Not only does it enrich your language, Croquet is also therapeutic. In games such as football, (which was SO good!) rugby or soccer, aggression is not only obvious, but can also be penalised. However, in Croquet, it is actually tactical. Knocking someone else’s ball out of the way gives you another shot…”oops, knocked it too far…didn’t mean to!” It’s passive aggressive heaven!
It’s a game in which you don’t need to: run, jump over things (though there are a few “wayward” balls that can suddenly come hurtling in your direction…again with the passive aggressive :P ) be attached to another person by means of skipping rope, fall off a bike, or even walk long distances. Yet, at the same time, it is good for improving hand eye coordination, “social skills”, and frustration management (a new and improved form of “anger management”) when everyone else is standing around the pin, ball in hand, watching in amusement as your ball bounces off the archway, and somehow, defying physics, shoots off at 45 degrees towards the next field…good times.
So for all of you wondering, what is high on a teenage mind’s priority list? Formal dresses? Hasn’t even begun to enter into common room conversations. Parties or going out? Not with all the exciting study there is to do. Television or movies? Well, yes. But really, at the moment only one word is tantamount to understanding the teenage psyche, and that is: “flpff.”
Monday, February 27, 2006
Decisions Decisions
Whoever said that you become more decisive the older you get? (Actually, I don’t think anyone said it, but it did make for a more dramatic and forceful opening…I hope) Decisiveness, or lack there of. Why is it so difficult to make decisions?
Having just completed a Physics Practical which took a large chunk of the weekend, and several dollars off my subjective goodwill assets (gotta love accounting) through my many, many questions, it has now been shown that the experiment proves absolutely nothing.
So after an introduction that is worse than “Australia’s Brainiest…” jokes (and maybe even some of those quips “Biggest Loser” hosts come out with) what is the point?
The experiment. The whole point: find a linear function to show that period is directly proportional to radius, and show whether it is positive or negative. Fair enough. Pretty straight forward. At least, if you’re not in the group which managed to produce a Quadratic!!! Yes, that’s right. Logic goes straight out the window, because our results simultaneously support and disprove the hypothesis. The future of science is in good hands.
However, if you look at this result from a different angle, it is a fantastic representation of what has been an ever-increasing problem: indecisiveness.
Gone are the days when you could straight out answer “what is your favourite colour?” What once was “blue!’ has now become “it depends on what day it is,” or “what accessories can I match to it?”
Breakfast: it used to be YoGo, but with age comes responsibility, and with responsibility comes choices. Hot or cold? Yoghurt or Toast? (cereal doesn’t come into it) Peanut Butter or Nutulla? Nearly having a nervous breakdown going over pros and cons of various toppings the day of a big test? This is the reward for becoming “maturing young adults.”
I think the problem now is that we’re too informed. Life used to be black and white. Everything had one answer, and one alone. But now? It’s no longer the toss of a coin, or even the roll of a dice. Hey, we’d be lucky if it were a three dimensional do-decahedron shaped thingy… Too Many Options! Too Many Factors to Take into Consideration!!
Yoghurt is quick to eat (unless you forget a spoon) but can leave you in the weird state between full and bleugggh. Hot or cold depends on the weather outside. Peanut butter sticks to the roof of your mouth, and Nutella had lots of sugar…but really it comes down to how much time you have to brush your teeth before you leap down the lift shaft and into the bus.
But then after all the assessing and weighing, someone will ask you something, and there it is: The Rash Decision…
What else is there to say, but HELP!!!
Having just completed a Physics Practical which took a large chunk of the weekend, and several dollars off my subjective goodwill assets (gotta love accounting) through my many, many questions, it has now been shown that the experiment proves absolutely nothing.
So after an introduction that is worse than “Australia’s Brainiest…” jokes (and maybe even some of those quips “Biggest Loser” hosts come out with) what is the point?
The experiment. The whole point: find a linear function to show that period is directly proportional to radius, and show whether it is positive or negative. Fair enough. Pretty straight forward. At least, if you’re not in the group which managed to produce a Quadratic!!! Yes, that’s right. Logic goes straight out the window, because our results simultaneously support and disprove the hypothesis. The future of science is in good hands.
However, if you look at this result from a different angle, it is a fantastic representation of what has been an ever-increasing problem: indecisiveness.
Gone are the days when you could straight out answer “what is your favourite colour?” What once was “blue!’ has now become “it depends on what day it is,” or “what accessories can I match to it?”
Breakfast: it used to be YoGo, but with age comes responsibility, and with responsibility comes choices. Hot or cold? Yoghurt or Toast? (cereal doesn’t come into it) Peanut Butter or Nutulla? Nearly having a nervous breakdown going over pros and cons of various toppings the day of a big test? This is the reward for becoming “maturing young adults.”
I think the problem now is that we’re too informed. Life used to be black and white. Everything had one answer, and one alone. But now? It’s no longer the toss of a coin, or even the roll of a dice. Hey, we’d be lucky if it were a three dimensional do-decahedron shaped thingy… Too Many Options! Too Many Factors to Take into Consideration!!
Yoghurt is quick to eat (unless you forget a spoon) but can leave you in the weird state between full and bleugggh. Hot or cold depends on the weather outside. Peanut butter sticks to the roof of your mouth, and Nutella had lots of sugar…but really it comes down to how much time you have to brush your teeth before you leap down the lift shaft and into the bus.
But then after all the assessing and weighing, someone will ask you something, and there it is: The Rash Decision…
What else is there to say, but HELP!!!
Monday, February 13, 2006
The Jumpered Forest that is: Year 12
Being thwarted by 20 cent pieces, eating Teevee snacks, talking about bananas, waving our arms “like we just don’t care,” reading Monty Python autobiographies (mostly aloud during “The News”, much to the delight of ones parents) and watching “Saved” twice in one weekend; not exactly the year 12 that has been dreaded for the past thirteen years.
The first week of “responsibility, reason and bridging the gap between adolescence and adulthood” has gone off remarkably unremarkably. Arriving on the first day to be swallowed up by the deep mysterious depths of the earth, or, if your prefer, going down that sacred last flight of steps to the year 12 common room, we discovered that we had at last been rewarded with the trophies of success, a token of maturity, a symbol for all that we had achieved by getting to this point …and this was: wooden lockers!
Standing proud at about 170 cm, with width of about 8 mm, these hollowed out, non metallic, anti magnetic, trees proved to us that the Inanimate Objects are still hard at work behind the scenes. However, having spent the holidays completing “The Dolphin Puzzle” it was a *cough* welcome *cough* new challenge to fit all the books, folders, articles of clothing and most importantly: lunch, into these fiendish devices. (its fun the way nothing fits, and yet there’s still about a 70 cm void of nothingness in which many things could go if it were possible to gather air particles densely enough to enable objects to stand upon them…or if a shelf was installed.
Once the last folder was stacked precariously on top of a text book and beneath my hat, it was at last time to properly begin the year! (on first typing, “y” was omitted, leaving us starting a new “ear.” Great…)
It was then (well, actually about 6 and a half hours later, but SHHHH!!!) that history was made, when, Shock! Surprise! Amazement! Year 12 Jumpers arrived: ON THE FIRST DAY!!!
…the power is ours!!!
It’s amazing how by merely putting on an article of clothing can change the world around you (though, I guess this shouldn’t come as a surprise, being a witness to the horror that stockings can bring about…) Eyes turn, footsteps hasten, then scuttle away into the opposite direction. Voices raise in pitch (and occasionally crack!) as: freshly jumpered Year 12s walk through their newly claimed school.
Funny how you can become so reliant on a symbol, because now I don’t feel like I’m anywhere near old enough to be in this year when I’m not wearing the jumper. Jumper on: it’s like being a planeteer (take a break to sing the Captain Planet theme…here, I’ll start you off: Captain Planet: he’s our hero, gonna take pollution down to zero…*mumble mumble...can't remember the rest* ) Jumper off: the regression begins. I have this theory that the more you take it off, the further down in year levels you go. Today we’re back in year 11…by next Tuesday, who knows?
What is to be done about this new dilemma? On the one hand, are we being mentally affected by “The Jumper Phenomenon?” On the other hand, if we are, what can we do about it, because they’re so fleecy and nice?!?! Ogh! (to make a newly learnt “Educating Rita” noise) Decisions, decisions!
Anyways, unable to think of a “proper” conclusion:
The first week of “responsibility, reason and bridging the gap between adolescence and adulthood” has gone off remarkably unremarkably. Arriving on the first day to be swallowed up by the deep mysterious depths of the earth, or, if your prefer, going down that sacred last flight of steps to the year 12 common room, we discovered that we had at last been rewarded with the trophies of success, a token of maturity, a symbol for all that we had achieved by getting to this point …and this was: wooden lockers!
Standing proud at about 170 cm, with width of about 8 mm, these hollowed out, non metallic, anti magnetic, trees proved to us that the Inanimate Objects are still hard at work behind the scenes. However, having spent the holidays completing “The Dolphin Puzzle” it was a *cough* welcome *cough* new challenge to fit all the books, folders, articles of clothing and most importantly: lunch, into these fiendish devices. (its fun the way nothing fits, and yet there’s still about a 70 cm void of nothingness in which many things could go if it were possible to gather air particles densely enough to enable objects to stand upon them…or if a shelf was installed.
Once the last folder was stacked precariously on top of a text book and beneath my hat, it was at last time to properly begin the year! (on first typing, “y” was omitted, leaving us starting a new “ear.” Great…)
It was then (well, actually about 6 and a half hours later, but SHHHH!!!) that history was made, when, Shock! Surprise! Amazement! Year 12 Jumpers arrived: ON THE FIRST DAY!!!
…the power is ours!!!
It’s amazing how by merely putting on an article of clothing can change the world around you (though, I guess this shouldn’t come as a surprise, being a witness to the horror that stockings can bring about…) Eyes turn, footsteps hasten, then scuttle away into the opposite direction. Voices raise in pitch (and occasionally crack!) as: freshly jumpered Year 12s walk through their newly claimed school.
Funny how you can become so reliant on a symbol, because now I don’t feel like I’m anywhere near old enough to be in this year when I’m not wearing the jumper. Jumper on: it’s like being a planeteer (take a break to sing the Captain Planet theme…here, I’ll start you off: Captain Planet: he’s our hero, gonna take pollution down to zero…*mumble mumble...can't remember the rest* ) Jumper off: the regression begins. I have this theory that the more you take it off, the further down in year levels you go. Today we’re back in year 11…by next Tuesday, who knows?
What is to be done about this new dilemma? On the one hand, are we being mentally affected by “The Jumper Phenomenon?” On the other hand, if we are, what can we do about it, because they’re so fleecy and nice?!?! Ogh! (to make a newly learnt “Educating Rita” noise) Decisions, decisions!
Anyways, unable to think of a “proper” conclusion:
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Punching the Pantry
Walking back home through today’s random downpour, whistling “Singing in the Rain” and enjoying the irony maybe just a little bit too much, it was then that the realisation that there is less than a week left of free days left until: The-year-that-was-always-so-far-away-and-which-signifies-sudden-and-horrible-almost-adulthood.
What does this year mean? More homework, less sleep? Arranging your regular television programs into priority order in a vain attempt to see what you can axe from your schedule? Tidying up, to the point where your paperclips are colour coded and arranged merrily in size order lined up across your desk? Listening to movies while staring at a book, because you’re still being constructive, and it doesn’t really count as “watching.”
…how are we going to survive?
Well, cool and not nerd-like as I am, I have compiled a list of…stuff. Anyways, I thought I’d share with you all for when the work gets too much, there’s always random things that don’t makes sense that can make you feel a whole load better.
Quotes
· [while proposing] “I have four words that will change our lives forever.”
“The cloud is accelerating!!!” – Fantastic Four
· In “Once More With Feeling” Giles says “She need’s back up” followed by “Anya, Tara.” For two years I thought this was “I need a guitar.” Heh, weird.
· “D*mn!” said Carrot, a difficult linguistic feat – “Guards! Guards!” Terry Pratchett
· “A drunk clown hurt me once” – Scrubs
· “That’s why I’m a cat” – crazy guy in “The Real Me”
· “Ahasuerus…I think that’s how he said his name. It sounded like a sneeze.” – “Homeward Bounders” – Diana Wynne Jones
Random Thoughts
· an average person hits the snooze button on their alarm clock three times in the morning. Therefore, if you decide to wake up bright and early and make the most of life, you are below average.
· If a person decides to study mathematics intently, and make the focus of their study null values, and the effects of zero, they could tell people that they “really know nothing.”
· Everyone in a tv program or comic book lives in an alternate universe in some sense, because the television program/book they’re from does not exist where they are. This is particularly weird if it’s something famous or influential. For example, in Smallville, that program would not be on for Clark, Lana, etc. to watch, and no one in that world would ever have read a Superman comic book, because it had never come into being there. Thus, songs like “Superman” by Lazlo Bane, and “Superman” by Five by Fighting (wow these singers are creative people) would not ever have been written, and this would in turn affect Scrubs, which would have a different theme song!
What does this year mean? More homework, less sleep? Arranging your regular television programs into priority order in a vain attempt to see what you can axe from your schedule? Tidying up, to the point where your paperclips are colour coded and arranged merrily in size order lined up across your desk? Listening to movies while staring at a book, because you’re still being constructive, and it doesn’t really count as “watching.”
…how are we going to survive?
Well, cool and not nerd-like as I am, I have compiled a list of…stuff. Anyways, I thought I’d share with you all for when the work gets too much, there’s always random things that don’t makes sense that can make you feel a whole load better.
Quotes
· [while proposing] “I have four words that will change our lives forever.”
“The cloud is accelerating!!!” – Fantastic Four
· In “Once More With Feeling” Giles says “She need’s back up” followed by “Anya, Tara.” For two years I thought this was “I need a guitar.” Heh, weird.
· “D*mn!” said Carrot, a difficult linguistic feat – “Guards! Guards!” Terry Pratchett
· “A drunk clown hurt me once” – Scrubs
· “That’s why I’m a cat” – crazy guy in “The Real Me”
· “Ahasuerus…I think that’s how he said his name. It sounded like a sneeze.” – “Homeward Bounders” – Diana Wynne Jones
Random Thoughts
· an average person hits the snooze button on their alarm clock three times in the morning. Therefore, if you decide to wake up bright and early and make the most of life, you are below average.
· If a person decides to study mathematics intently, and make the focus of their study null values, and the effects of zero, they could tell people that they “really know nothing.”
· Everyone in a tv program or comic book lives in an alternate universe in some sense, because the television program/book they’re from does not exist where they are. This is particularly weird if it’s something famous or influential. For example, in Smallville, that program would not be on for Clark, Lana, etc. to watch, and no one in that world would ever have read a Superman comic book, because it had never come into being there. Thus, songs like “Superman” by Lazlo Bane, and “Superman” by Five by Fighting (wow these singers are creative people) would not ever have been written, and this would in turn affect Scrubs, which would have a different theme song!
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Ryan = Seth...Mathematically proven!
In the grand tradition of wholesome, all rounded and most of all constructive holiday activities, the past few weeks have been taken up by much intense DVD watching, which has led me to the following question then conclusion:
What do the following have in common: Smallville, The OC, and Buffy? (and no, that is not some subtle Black Books-esque comment) ((though they are all fabulous! :P ))
Now at first glance these shows may seem to have very little in common (with the possible exception of Buffy and Smallville, but all the same…) However, if you look at the first seasons of each show, you start to notice some remarkable similarities…leading to the conclusion that Smallville is like a combined version of OC and Buffy!
Look! I can even prove it mathematically!
Season 1 Smallville = Season 1 OC + Season 1 Buffy
Season 1 Smallville = Season 1 (OC + Buffy) < [factorising]
Therefore: Smallville = OC + Buffy [dividing both sides by Season 1]
See! It’s irrefutable!
But just in case the mathematics isn’t convincing enough, here’s a few dot points to support it.
· In the Smallville episode “Stray” the Kents temporarily adopt a kid called Ryan (who, as another point, cooks them breakfast. )
· Smallville (as in the place, not the show) = Hellmouth – It’s just like on Buffy where the place they live is built on a foundation of Kryponite/hell and all the people living there (usually classmates) who are affected, have strange powers and for one reason or another become evil.
· Clark = Seth in the way that they both are in love with a girl at school who’s heaps more popular than them, and when they finally get the girl to like them, end up not being able to go out with them, for reasons of Anna or sudden-discovery-of-major-alien-responsibilities-and-have-to-move-to-metropolis-temporarily…also Clark, Seth, Summer and Lana all have dark hair…though that’s stretching it a bit.
· Buffy and Smallville also each have a gang of teenagers who are equivalent to the Scooby gang (in fact in both shows, they make reference to this)
· Smallville and OC both have the adopted son coming into the perfect family. (though this screws up the maths a bit because in this example Clark = Ryan, but previously we proved that Clark = Seth, therefore Clark = Ryan = Seth, which means that Ryan = Seth which doesn’t make sense…)
· Finally they all have the sports teams who rule the school (though this seems to be the case in most American Teen Programs.) More specifically episodes in both Season 1 Buffy and Smallville, they have the Swim team and football team consecutively, who are being made to play better by evil coaches, both by way of: Sauna. In Buffy, the coach puts something in the steam which turns the swimmers into strange sea demons, and in Smallville, the coach puts meteor rocks in the steam bucket and turns himself into strange fire person...
…and that’s only some of the similarities.
So, whoever said that maths wasn’t useful or fun?
What do the following have in common: Smallville, The OC, and Buffy? (and no, that is not some subtle Black Books-esque comment) ((though they are all fabulous! :P ))
Now at first glance these shows may seem to have very little in common (with the possible exception of Buffy and Smallville, but all the same…) However, if you look at the first seasons of each show, you start to notice some remarkable similarities…leading to the conclusion that Smallville is like a combined version of OC and Buffy!
Look! I can even prove it mathematically!
Season 1 Smallville = Season 1 OC + Season 1 Buffy
Season 1 Smallville = Season 1 (OC + Buffy) < [factorising]
Therefore: Smallville = OC + Buffy [dividing both sides by Season 1]
See! It’s irrefutable!
But just in case the mathematics isn’t convincing enough, here’s a few dot points to support it.
· In the Smallville episode “Stray” the Kents temporarily adopt a kid called Ryan (who, as another point, cooks them breakfast. )
· Smallville (as in the place, not the show) = Hellmouth – It’s just like on Buffy where the place they live is built on a foundation of Kryponite/hell and all the people living there (usually classmates) who are affected, have strange powers and for one reason or another become evil.
· Clark = Seth in the way that they both are in love with a girl at school who’s heaps more popular than them, and when they finally get the girl to like them, end up not being able to go out with them, for reasons of Anna or sudden-discovery-of-major-alien-responsibilities-and-have-to-move-to-metropolis-temporarily…also Clark, Seth, Summer and Lana all have dark hair…though that’s stretching it a bit.
· Buffy and Smallville also each have a gang of teenagers who are equivalent to the Scooby gang (in fact in both shows, they make reference to this)
· Smallville and OC both have the adopted son coming into the perfect family. (though this screws up the maths a bit because in this example Clark = Ryan, but previously we proved that Clark = Seth, therefore Clark = Ryan = Seth, which means that Ryan = Seth which doesn’t make sense…)
· Finally they all have the sports teams who rule the school (though this seems to be the case in most American Teen Programs.) More specifically episodes in both Season 1 Buffy and Smallville, they have the Swim team and football team consecutively, who are being made to play better by evil coaches, both by way of: Sauna. In Buffy, the coach puts something in the steam which turns the swimmers into strange sea demons, and in Smallville, the coach puts meteor rocks in the steam bucket and turns himself into strange fire person...
…and that’s only some of the similarities.
So, whoever said that maths wasn’t useful or fun?
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