Vicroads Tightens Probationary Requirements

The Victorian government today announced their hopes that the introduction of another test in the steps before young drivers receive their P plates will help to curb the "unacceptably high" road toll, largely involving inexperienced and "dangerously reckless" drivers on probationary licences.

The new test, which would be an online addition to "complement the already very realistic and useful Hazard Perception Test", involves young drivers completing a single player championship (on 100c) from popular Nintendo video game "Mario Kart".

"A course such as Rainbow Road, for example," explained Licensing Initiatives Manager Karen Blackmore, "ensures that drivers are able to stay in the middle of lanes, even when those lanes go upside down, or are suspended over a starry void without any sort of safety barrier. It's through these sorts of scenarios, which so closely emulate realistic driving situations, that we hope to truly test the crucial skills needed for drivers on the roads."

The stringent new test is aimed at filtering 'hoon behaviour'.

As well as testing skills such as car control, speed control, sharing the road, and when it is appropriate to use a red shell against another vehicle, the simulation would mirror the distractions often present on the roads.


"Because all drivers ought to be able to competently soar across a black abyss with booster mushrooms."

"I think we've all been distracted by bright lights, rocket boosters, bananas, and blue shells at some stage or another," stated Ms Blackmore. "This test allows us to ensure that all drivers are able to adequately prepare for and respond to these hazards safely, whether it be by using their invincibility cube, or their ghost. I think we owe this to parents, families, and communities across Victoria."

The scheme is expected to be rolled out in late October this year.

A Sinister Plan

"But what they do not understand, is that it is MY KEY!" Mr Jefferson exclaimed triumphantly, his hands shaking with supressed excitement and possibly rage. "Myki will allow me to overcharge people slightly for the mediocre service we offer! 300 days on a tertiary concession card will cost $834! Students everywhere will be confused by our inability to explain the system in clear English, without insultingly condescending phrases such as "as simple as" or "all that's needed to top up" or the more disturbingly innuendo laded "touch off"!"

There was a silence around the office, as all the other people in the room realised with horror the truth of his statement. Then they realised it's not really that important, and that public transport is public transport.

The End

Phone Manners

So yesterday I was out in the city when I got a phone call on my mobile from an unrecognised number. I answered it, and couldn't hear anything at all.

Me: Hello? Hello?......HEELLLOOOOO? Who are you? Hello? I can't hear anything...oh God you're tracing my phone so you can kill me aren't you? Hello? *hung up*

Then two minutes later it rings again with the same number and I answer it.

Me: Hello?

Man on phone: Hi this is *** from Degani bakery (where I had applied for a part time job). Can you hear me now?

Good impression. Gooooood.

Malicious Librarian Retires

Intentionally incompetent librarian Daisy Fitzgerald today retired after her 50 years of service in confusing, misleading, and frustrating library users.

In her retirement speech, she acknowledged the good times. "The best times were really when someone would ask me for a specific book, and I'd have no idea where it was. So I'd go 'follow me', and then embark on a rambling tour of the bookshelves, while they stood beside me in polite exasperation, occassionally venturing to say 'it's ok', or 'oh, thank you but nevermind'. Of course, I never let them get away if I could help it. The pained impatience on their faces was a joy."

Leftovers

I found these on my USB. They were never published in the last edition of Sentinel, as it was cruelly aborted before it saw the sky or tasted fresh air. Here I dump them to rest in peace.

NEWSFLASH: MX'S 'VENT YOUR SPLEEN' SEES 80% DROP IN REASONING, GRAMMAR, BASIC LOGIC

Zealous Substitute Teachers Plan World ChangeSubstitute teachers convened yesterday in Canberra to discuss possible means of solving the major issues plaguing today’s Western societies, including global warming, the economic crisis, and terrorism.

Brenda Ballymoral, 31, stated that she felt it was “really only a small jump from doing what we do in schools. We come into a class of unmotivated students who have absolutely no desire whatsoever to do any work, and we gently coax and nudge them, until by the end of the lesson we have a group of students who are unmotivated, and have absolutely no desire whatsoever to do any work. We feel confident that these skills are readily transferable into global forums on pressing current issues.”

Suggested strategies for tackling the complex issues included ineffectually shushing international bodies preventing the development of solutions, awareness campaigns with confronting slogans such as “Come on now, let’s stop being silly, this isn’t lunchtime, let’s get some work done on climate change, ok? In silence, please”, and engaging in important ‘dialogues’ with scientists who know what they’re doing and really just want to be left alone.

New Addition to Archibald Collection Doesn’t Phail to Delight
An unusual entry in the prestigious Archibald art competition has raised a few eyebrows in the high-brow art society around Australia. The somewhat controversial painting features a large and crudely drawn phallus, entitled ‘Your Mum’, painted by young aspiring artist from Victoria, Edgar Smithson, aged 15.

Director of the Archibald competition for 2010 Peter Brown explained the unorthodox choice making it into the finalists’ shortlist. “We’re always seeking to move with society, and current trends,” he stated at a press conference yesterday. “We feel that if this is the direction art is moving in, we would like to grab it with both hands, and ensure we stay at the forefront of the artistic zeitgeist. This exciting new work, which demonstrates Smithson’s obvious enthusiasm for Freudian psychology – both Oedipal longing and penis envy clearly influencing his work – is yet further proof that the future of the artistic community in Australia is bright indeed.”

Smithson has given nothing away, answering cryptically to questions as to how his work was a reflection of the gender roles forced upon women in our current society, with “fucked if I know. I just drew a cock.”

Painting Trains Plan Fails

A new scheme by the Victorian government aimed at improving train services within metropolitan Melbourne has proven largely unsuccessful in its first few weeks of trial. The plan, which involved painting trains purple with red stripes in a youthful and exhuberant design, has failed to improve the number of train cancellations and delays.

"We're really stumped," spokeswoman Wendy Choo said in a press conference today. "I really thought our 5 million dollar initiative here, with a design especially commissioned for speed and accuracy, was going to see a marked improvement."

In the face of increasing criticism over the new myki ticketing system, which still faces technological issues with overcharging even as it is being rolled out over three years behind schedule, this new defeat could well see Labour outed at the next election.

"I thought the trains would be all better and stuff," concerned daily commuter Trevor Hargreaves sighed. "I thought once they rebranded, relabelled, reticketted and re-painted everything, it would alter the basic infrastructure somehow and we'd have fast trains like in Japan or something."

Hong Kong

So I'm in Hong Kong waiting for the next flight. I have been reading the Diary of Anne Frank for a few hours, and enjoying it immensely. Now if she had a blog, it would be a really good one.

While I was the first person packed in my family, I perhaps could have packed my hand luggage more prudently, as my carry on luggage includes two novelty sized pencils from Amsterdam (about 40 cm tall) and a Mozart quill and nib, which has been regarded with great suspicion by all customs clearances thus far. I can only presume the scene rushing through their minds:

Tragedy Averted as Dangerous Novelty Pencil Wielding Passenger Disarmed

It was meant to be a quiet flight from Hong Kong to Brisbane. But what should have been a peaceful flight nearly turned to disaster, as mid-flight a passenger pulled two deadly novelty sized pencils and attempted to take control of the plane.

"He just pulled out two brightly coloured pencils. One was orange...the other one was green," one witness recalled, tears springing to her eyes as the traumatic event was relived. "Then he pointed it at the face of a flight stewardess, and threatened to draw on her face if the control of the plane was not relinquished."

The on-flight staff played down the incident, stating that once the security staff present draw their firearms, the effectiveness of the large and colourful pencils was greatly diminished.

Anyway. I could lose them at Brisbane, as that is still one more hurdle of security to get through. I'm still feeling ill, which is excellent, as it means I don't eat much and just feel generally rubbish.

The customs people at London/Heathrow had no sense of humour whatsoever, which is seeming to be the general trend with customs officers. It was all good until I forgot to put my mobile on the conveyer belt (forgive it, for it is the innocent ignorance of a novice flyer), and the scanner went off.

Me: Oh, whoops, forgot my mobile. (Gets out mobile, puts it on conveyer belt, and walks through metal detector/whatever the hell it does, which does not go off.)

Woman (with flat, monotone voice): No. You still have to be checked now. Too late.

Me (obligingly, no doubt): Oh, ok. (I walked over to where her equally upbeat colleague was waiting with a scanner of some description.)

At this point my parents expressed exasperation that I had been stopped.

Me (cheerily, as always as I am always in best behaviour in my recollections): Oh it's ok...now I'm getting the full security experience, hey?

No response from either of them, who made absolutely no effort to make the experience of being felt up more comfortable. I decided to dispense with the "wow, that's it, just the tension in the back" jokes, and left after they were done. I even said 'Thanks', but they didn't acknowledge it.

I have therefore come to the conclusion that airports should have a greater emphasis on customer comfort in such situations. Because I'm sure the percentage of 'baddies' out of people passing through security is quite low, and so for the majority, it can be daunting. And even a smile for someone planning to commit an evil act isn't such a bad thing. It might even make them thing twice, if they are struck by a spontaneous expression of goodwill and kindness.

But I guess that's why I don't run airport security.

Back To Melbourne

So the rest of my family is still packing, and in a few hours I will start my return to Melbourne on the plane. I have been sick and am still not better, so naturally the prospect of a 30 hour trip on planes, waiting in airports, and so on is very appealing. And lucky me, Melbourne is having some of the hottest weather ever.

I suppose now is the time I draw profound conclusions about the places I've visited.

The Louvre is massive, but does not have as great a proportion of Madonna and Child pictures as the Uffizi gallery.

It was snowing when we visited Versailles, which was great, but of course freezing. The decorative lake was frozen over and the swans there were rather aggressive. Versailles's rooms were all sort of colour co-ordinated, and themed with Roman gods, as the quiet and unassuming Kind Louis XIV (The 'Roi du Soleil' or 'Sun King') wanted to draw the similarities between himself and the gods - similarities which one assumes were all too apparent to him.

It was interesting seeing Marie Antoinette's house, as we had visited her childhood home at Schonbrunn Palace in Vienna, only her name then was 'Maria Antonia' - the French made her change it when she married to the more French equivalent.

Paris is the most dog friendly city I have ever been in.

I got a haircut just a few hours ago, to pass time, and practice French. Also because I needed a haircut.

Coiffeuse (hairdresser) : Alors, comme ça, mais plus courts? (So, like this but shorter?)

Me: Euhh, oui, pourquoi pas. Comme vous pensez. (Umm, sure, why not. Whatever you think.)

Coiffeuse, souriante (hairdresser, smiling) : Alors, comme je voulais? (So, as I like?)

Me: Oui, oui, ce que vous pensez m'ira. (Yes, yes, whatever you think will suit me.)

I now have a quite short haircut that is not unusual enough to be a point of conversation, nor particularly flattering. And you have learnt some French.

Everyone overseas thinks comparatively little of Australia - kangaroos is just about it. A porter in Germany knew we were culling them too.

Anyway, I have a headache, and the rest of the family is annoyed that I'm not helping them pack their own luggage. So I guess I should now go and help them.

Au revoir mes chers lectures

Taser Unveils Brain Chip

Stun gun manufacturing company Taser yesterday unveiled their brain chip, an exciting technological advancement promised to "revolutionise the face of parenting techniques".

"Essentially, this chip will allow parents to read their child's thoughts, and screen them through an electronic medium, blocking any deemed innapropriate. For instance, you might suspect your child is angry at you, or perhaps that they are hiding something. Now, the old fashioned way of dealing with this would of course be to approach them directly, and ask them about the perceived situation," explained technology spokesperson Tom Snith.

"Thanks to this technology, a confrontation is no longer necessary. You can simply scan their thoughts using our easy to use menu, until you're either satisfied that they are concealing nothing, or you have found their 'little secret'.

Smith rejected accusations that the technology is tantamount to mind reading. "This is a collaborative effort, where the child is aware of your intrusion into their consciousness. And of course, as they grow older, you can build trust, until you may only intrude their most private thoughts once a month."


So this was meant to be a satirical article, based on this piece of news I picked up today while trying to find out about news in Australia:

http://www.news.com.au/technology/taser-adds-parental-mobile-phone-monitoring-tool-to-its-arsenal/story-e6frfro0-1225817655054

But I think the problem is that the article itself is almost satirical. If a parent's relationship with their child is so poor that they can't give them the basic human right of privacy, forced access to their friends and life outside the family is hardly going to help that relationship. The children will probably never trust their parents again. It is one of the stupidest ideas I've heard of in a while.

It Has Been a While, Jaa?

Since Christmas, my travels have continued. I have been to Salzburg, Vienna, Munich, and am now in Amsterdam. I am quite surprised myself to look at those cities and know that I have seen them, breathed them, walked in them. And it is far too difficult to properly convey them in writing. Nevertheless I will try...

Of course it is Winter in Europe. So it is cold. Today in Amsterdam I didn't wear gloves during the day, and my hands froze numb because I had to take them out of my coat pockets to look at the map of Amsterdam, which has canals going round in circles. There are bikes everywhere, and it can sometimes be difficult to know whether you're on a pedestrian path or a bike path, or whether you even have right of way over bikes at a pedestrian crossing. And the bikes move quickly. After snow, the paths can get icy and quite slippery too.

I suppose the main image of Amsterdam is that they smoke drugs and ride bikes and have gay marriage and an infamous Red Light District. While I have seen a small cafe called "Yellow Mellow", which sold marajuana, I have not visited the Red Light District, and there is nothing overly radical about the city.

Today I visited Anne Frank's House, which was a very sobering and moving experience. Walking through her house, accompanied by all her personal diary entries, and crouching to go behind the moving bookcase to the annexed section of the office, knowing how many times a girl, who you almost feel to know on some level, had crept in silence, and knowing that for all their precautions of silence and darkness, what their fate was, nearly brought me to tears, oddly enough.

On a lighter note, we also visited the Rijkmuseum, where there were many paintings by Rembrandt and a few by Vermeer and other Dutch painters. There was a particularly amusing portrait of an exceptionally rotund and piggish looking boy, which I am sure was entirely truthful and attentive to details.

Salzburg is perhaps the most beautiful city I have visited yet. It is surrounded by mountains from which fresh water flows, tap water which, as one waitress summised when we commented that it was nice: "Ja, you can drink it.." We visited Mozart's house, which had an excellent museum with audio guides, but did make me realise that Debussy really should've had a better museum.

Vienna was bigger and busier, and the Schloss Schonbrunn was almost as decadently decorated as my own house.

I am tired now and it is 11:52pm in Amsterdam.

Joyeux Noel!

I have finally stumbled upon some time where:



a) I have internet access

b) I have time and inclination to update my blog



I could show you all that I have been up to, along the lines of:



14/12/09



Spent today in Florence. Did some shopping at the market, cooked our own dinner in our apartment kitchen facilities. It was delicious. We ate squid and pasta. I am becoming better at navigating Florence. I am getting impatient, however, at keeping my diary. My pen is running out.



But perhaps, maybe, just possibly, this could be a tad boring for you. So instead, I have packaged aspects of my trip into a Christmas poem:



A European Christmas



'Twas a week before Christmas, and a boy was in Europe,

Exploring the continent, but not in a tour group.

Nay, he ventured with his family of four,

As French people, staring from cafes well saw.

They travelled to Italy, to Florence and Venice,

Photographing architecture and art at its zenith.



Eating of gelati and polenta abounded,

As delicious as church bells in the crisp cold air sounded.

They shopped in big stores, for thick warming coats,

Where they were assailed by harsh, grating notes,

From a techno rendition of Silent Night,

'Silent' no more, it sounded like shite.

'Stop that shit music, in the name of the Lord!

Stop it right now, it is causing discord!'

The young boy named Theodore let out a gasp,

For there stood Saint Nicholas, with a tinsel whip in his grasp.

'Down with materialism, etc.' he continued in English.

'Non parlo l'inglese,' explained one staff member, sheepish.

Nevertheless, old Nick blew up the store,

And then yelled out loud, with a bloodthirsty roar,

'Hahahahahhahahahahahaha!'

Theodore shrugged - it made no sense to him either.



They saw the Loire Valley 'neath a blanket of snow,

Visited a chateau, namely great Chenonceau.

'Wow!' exclaimed Theodore's sister named Gen,

'A snow capped great castle is not seen often (she separated the syllables so it rhymes, ok?)

The fresh snow was powdery just like cornflour,

Thought Theodore, as the light snowfall increased in power,

Before long, a blizzard raged all about them,

Ok turns out I have less time than I thought - it was just going to be all 'now we have to stay in the castle and there is only an attic available with a mysterious secret because Gelati Gecko loves the gothic genre'. The upshot of it all was Merry Christmas, bla bla bla, thank you for your patronage with my blog.

Also, I would like to announce the opening of the Gelati Gecko Golden Club. Members will be eligible based on their comments. The first two members are Bennett and Luna Mooney. Members benefits include free use of the blog's virtual gymnasium and relaxation facilities, and a whole range of yearly benefits and offers. Congratulations to Bennett and Luna Mooney. I assure you both that this is the gift that will keep giving.

Let us hope that the new year will yield better writings from me, and more loyalty from all of you.

Student Throws Away ENTER Score

Timothy Walkins today celebrated his VCE results. A perfect score in three of his subjects secured his ENTER of 99.95, the highest ENTER achievable by Victorian secondary school students. Following his outstanding results, he has re-organised his VTAC preferences.

"I just want to do something I enjoy...you shouldn't choose something just because of your score," he explained, as he revealed that he has cancelled his VTAC applications, and has instead applied to the local garbage collector rounds. "I think that this will ultimately be a more spiritually fulfilling occupation," he said. "It's something I've always been able to see myself doing, and I don't think I should let a high score distract me from the noble profession of garbage collection. The cold morning starts, the wholesome knowledge that I am an essential cog in the social machinery of life: disease and pestilence would reign supreme in my absence."

His local municipal garbage collection jobs do not currently have an ENTER requirement, a fact which has distressed his mother, Beverley. "I'm just concerned that he will regret this later down the track. He should use his score to do something useful...or Arts at Melbourne, at the very least."

I'm In Venice

Wow. I can scarcely belive I'm in Venice. But hey, I am. So...I have a few days' worth of journal stuff, but I'll try and make it interesting for you all.

Firstly, we went to Paris Bercy, which was a quiet and less expensive area of Paris (12th arrondissement). This was our first stop before we took a night train down to Venice.

In Paris Bercy, we went shopping at a supermarket, and I was introduced to the Carrefour. Imagine a supermarket, like, say, Coles, or Safeway. Ok? Now imagine a SUPERMARKET, as in Coles ^ 1000. I went into one to get a bottle of water.


One

bottle

of water.

It took me thirty minutes.

Firstly, the store is massive. I wandered round for a bit, trying to find it myself. Eventually I chanced upon a deli section, and I asked (in French, as I found my French really was quite useful, and each time I successfully used it, I felt very grown up) if they had some water. She directed me to the very back corner of the store. Having acquired my water bottle, I walked back to the counters. There were about forty checkouts, only around ten of which were open. And then, after waiting in one of the queues for a short while, I discovered that some were reserved for credit cards. So the only other one I could find was self serve, where you do the checkout yourself. So I waited there, until one that accepted cash was available. Then, apart from one glitch where I didn't realise you had to put down your purchases on a table with a sensor in order to finish the transaction (my purchases included one water bottle), it was all smooth sailing.

You don't believe me? Think that the store isn't that massive?

The staff moved around on roller skates.

Above: This image displays approximately one sixtieth of the store.

The next day, we went to Saint-Germain-en-Laye, which seemed to be kind of like a Camberwell of Paris. The reason for this trip? This city is the birthplace of Claude Debussy, the greatest composer to ever exist. Ever. If you disagree, then that's fine, you are of course entitled to your opinion. Even though it may be wrong.

Oh, I should remind everyone, it is Winter over here in Europe. It is cold. So far I have seen no snow, but I remain hopeful.

We took a night train, where we slept on a train overnight (I know, the name doesn't really make it clear, does it), arriving in Venice in the morning.

How to describe Venice? It is cold, clear, crisp. The air is fresh and bracing. The sky is clear, or sometimes a cool grey, but it hasn't rained at all thus far. December is actually meant to be one of the driest months in Venice.

There is no such thing as a car in Venice (this is the proper island I am talking about, not Venice Mestre). There are no roads, only canals, or paths. There really are gondolas everywhere, and the people running gondolas whistle tunes or sing songs, though oddly it only seems to start when they spot someone with 'TOURIST' stamped all over their map holding hands, or their camera hanging from their neck. Their public transport system is quite cool. A boat goes down the main canals, usually alternating between banks of the canal for each stop. The stops or stations themselves consist of a floating platform, which the boat bumps up against.

In the city, there are bridges everywhere, over all the canals, and they often reek if you stand too close for too long. There are winding streets going around, and they are all made from grey stones. There are shops alongside the paths. These are almost all tourist shops. It seems that an extremely large proportion of Venice's economy is tied to their tourism industry. There are a few shops which keep popping up:

• The mask and puppet shops. These shops have colourful, ornate Venetian masks, and elaborate puppets hanging in their window. Sometimes they will have a sign asking you not to take photos.


• Shoe shops, or shops selling leather goods


• Shops selling Venetian glassware from Murano. Prices differ wildly from place to place. Luckily I don't seem to have paid too much yet, for the three things I have bought.


• General clothes shops, selling ties, scarfs, and similar clothing items.


• Bakeries, with merinques, biscotti, and other Italian pastries in their windows.

There are also flower sellers at major tourist hotspots, who go up to people, trying to hand them roses, then get them to pay for it. The demeanor adopted varies, but the other night a man came into the restaurant we were eating at, and tried the "forlorn and defeated" approach, where he walked over looking at you through dull eyes, the flowers gripped limply in his hand, as if apathy and fatigue had disabled his flower holding abilities.

European Stereotypes: True or False?

• The French are snobs - not yet decided. Being able to speak French, I have found them mostly an engaging and lively people. They make valuable contributions to shop discussions, and diligently perform every task required of them. It has been a pleasure to converse and interact with the French people, and they should be commended on their fine work.


• The French smoke - hell yes. Quite a few young people just stand on the street, or frame themselves in a doorway, pull out a cigarette, and smoke. Vraiment cool.


• The French eat pastries 24/7 - true. There are SO MANY boulangeries it seems incredible that they all stay in business. On almost any street I have been on in Paris (and no, it's not that many), there will be a boulangerie every 20 metres. There are some staples which are present in all boulangeries, such as the eclair, croissant, pain au chocolat, and escargot (swirl shaped pastry like a snail, hence the name). There are also a significant number of fromageries (shops specialising in cheese).


• French trains are awesome - I guess. They're certainly better than Melbourne's train system. They have a nifty system with a map with lit up stations, to show where the train is headed (shown below)

• Italians wave and shout and use hands a lot - sort of true. When we were taking a boat to Murano, for example, I went to the desk, and asked "Murano". The man replied (as it sounded to me), "Pour uno, ou bourano?", holding up one finger then two fingers. I assumed he thought I was asking for a ticket, and proceeded to explain that we already had tickets. As I started to talk, he cut me off, repeating more loudly "Pour uno, ou bourano?" So then naturally I tried again, and again he cut me off. I was getting a little frustrated, so I started raising my voice too. So we stood there, shouting the same things at each other, and not understanding what the other was saying. Which was fun, but didn't actually achieve anything. Finally I realised he was asking "Murano ou Burano?" as there is another island named "Burano", and he had not heard me properly the first time I asked. If in France I felt grown up to be able to use my French; in Italy I feel like an incompetent idiot, as I know very little Italian. I compensate for this by saying "Grazie" (thankyou) a lot. They always reply "Prego" (my pleasure/it's fine).
• Italian shop owners are pushy - not all, but the ones who are, are. Where in France they sort of left me to do my thing, here it's all "you like? You will no find better price anywhere else. Is good price I offer you, very good."
• You can add "io" or "o" to the end of English words and they become Italian - absolutely. Deliziosio, magnifico, fantastico...makes it a whole lot easier.

Racist generalisations aside, my trip has been fantastic thus far - of course, I am only a few days in. Anyway, good luck with results everyone, and if you have questions or anything, you know well that my longing for comments is never fully sated.

My Travels Begin...

So, here I am. Where is 'here'? I am in the Qantas lounge in Hong Kong, typing on a Mac. Before long I will take a flight to London, and then from London to Paris.

I'm afraid there's not been too many colourful anecdotes to share with you thus far. I did some scribbling in the plane:

The Journey

"500 years ago, a ship sailed towards the southern coast of France, made up of a crew charged with a secret mission from the most secret of secret and powerful of powerful powers of their age.

Now, in 2010, a young boy is traveling to Europe with his family. But his journey will yield more than he could have ever expected, as shocking truths buried deep within his ancestry begin to come to light..."

Logbook, Monday 7th December 1509

Food is scarce. The Captain says that if we don't see land within the next two suns, we shall have no option but to kill the lovable ship's monkey, Lucifer. Lucifer expressed discomfort with the proposal through screeching, and biting the wooden oars of the ship's dingy. The air is thick with mutiny...

Young Thomas Wemberlybroke settled himself into his comfortable plane chair, and opened a small blue book, and began to write. 'But what to write about?' he wondered.

As he stared down at the blank page, a hostess approached him, her lips stretched into a smile.

"Can I get you anything?" She broke out into a dazzling laugh, her eyes sparkling with saline.

"Do you have some saline in your eyes" asked the boy politely.

"No," she lied. "Can I get you anything?" she repeated.

"You do have saline in your eyes," insisted the boy, still politely.

"No I don't," she responded shortly. But she did.

Why was she lying about having saline in her eyes? The boy pondered this question as she continued down the aisle. Then, with horrific clarity, it dawned on him. She didn't have saline in her eyes because she needed to hydrate them, but because she was an alien. Having solved this puzzle, the boy went to sleep. The alien hostess then promptly devoured everyone on the plane, and then the plane itself.

I have no intention of finishing that story.

I could go through all the details, such as:

• I watched District 9 on the plane. I watched some of Marie Antoinette and Bruno, but didn't find either very interesting.
• I have been feasting on the free food provided in the airline lounges and so forth, as food will cease to be free once we get to France. I shall be well stocked by the time we reach Paris.

but those details would not interest you. I will come back when I have something interesting to say. Either then, or at the next lounge while I'm waiting for the next plane.

Why?

I'm going to level with you all, because you are each and every one my special and beloved readers, and you deserve the truth.

Lately I've been finding the upkeep of this blog problematic. And I have to ask myself, why? I've got more time each day than I've had all year. I should be churning out stuff that makes me feel happy, and keeps this little fire burning (where each blog is a log...yes?).

But I'm not. I want to contribute. I want to improve the quality of my writing, and I want to do this because I enjoy it. But here's what I'm starting to see the problem as.

I blogged to procrastinate. I blogged when I should have been working, or doing essays, or building an umbrella out of train tickets. And it is really when I'm stressed, when I'm under pressure, when I'm stressed and tired - it's then that I produce my best writing.

Either that, or when I feel passionately that I have something to write about. But when nothing is grabbing me, or compelling me to throw my pointless opinion onto the mountain of crap out here on the internet...I don't write well.

I just wanted to explain why this blog has been coughing and spluttering its way through these last few months. So that you don't give up on it. Because I swear, like a deciduous tree, there will come a spring, when this blog will unfurl its leafy green foliage, and all shall be well and prosperous once more. So just be patient. Please.

In other news, Gelati Gecko is going travelling. To Europe. And I'm hoping that I'll be able to update this blog as I go - and I'm sure I'll have lots of interesting stuff to say.

Anyway...I suppose I could chuck up some of the more obscene stories I wrote during English classes this year...'Bennett' might enjoy them, anyway.

VCE Study Tips

With VCE exams less than a day away, I thought it would be prudent to share some wise advice with you all:

• A strong mindset is essential. Don't tell yourself that you want to 'do the best I can do', but instead set specific study score goals. If you fail to reach these goals, tell yourself you are a failure.
• Don't start revising months in advance - leave all of your revision till the very last minute. This will ensure that all the information is fresh in your mind when you go into the exam.
• The night before, make sure you revise absolutely everything in detail - and if there's one part you don't quite understand: THEN PANIC! PANIC, AND TRY AND RE-LEARN THE WHOLE COURSE! Don't worry about sleeping - what good is sleep if you're not prepared?
• Don't eat breakfast on the day of the exam. A full stomach will only increase your nausea. Avoid low GI foods like cereal - if you must have something, have a Wizz Fizz.
• Don't take a drink bottle with you into the exam - being hydrated is not important, as irreplacable seconds tick past every time you stop to drink.
• Make sure you get to your exam at the last minute - this will heighten the excitement of the morning/afternoon, and create another layer of fear and nervousness.
• When you do arrive, be sure to mingle with other people and ask them lots of questions about the exam, as it is likely they will know something you don't. If they bring up an obscure part of the subject that you hadn't considered, start to stress about it, and try to learn it all in the five minutes before the exam. It is advisable to enter the examination confused, disorientated, and afraid.

Apart from that, there are no 'hard and fast' rules to VCE success. Just remember that plenty of students just like you have done the VCE before you, and plenty of them have done appallingly.

Revolutionary New Australian Television Show

Three Sydney socialites today revealed their plans to create a Gossip Girl type television series, all based around their wild, high-class social life.

Called Snobs, the show would be an exciting new foray into as yet untested genres. "We asked ourselves, what is something unique about Australia? And what original, challenging content could we provide in a drama set in Australia? And then we threw all those ideas out and went with a cheap and tacky remake of American shows such as O.C or Sex and the City," explained creative director Susan Watermeadow.

"We're not sure if the 'three girls spending big and going wild in a city setting' format is really going to work - I think we're really pushing the boundaries of what's ever been tested in comedy series before," cast member Gracie Otto enthused. "We're just hoping that Australian audiences will be ready to embrace something as diverse as the mild mishaps and shenanigans of three rich white girls," she continued.

"The title is certainly not intended as elitist, or anything like that," one scriptwriter hurried to affirm. "It's something everyone can enjoy - we're even planning on celebrating the diversity of the Australian people - perhaps a token Muslim friend can make a guest appearance."

A "Whose Reality?" Take on Beauty and the Geek

So I sat down and watched some reality TV yesterday. Called Beauty and the Geek. Go on, judge me (I’ve certainly already judged myself). And so to make up for my lapse in taste I watched Q and A on ABC – “the unpredictable show where you get to ask the questions”, as Tony Jones informs the audience every twenty minutes.

But to make my earlier transgression excusable, I turned a critical eye to the show. I don’t mean the sort of TV critic eye, where I’ll make some cheap shots, a wanky joke, throw in a quote, and end with a little pun. I mean I took a serious look at it, from a Whose Reality? perspective. So without further ado, I present my musings.

Of course, reality TV presents a distorted view of reality for our entertainment. And so to begin, I feel it is necessary to analyse the layers of reality within the television show Beauty and the Geek:

Firstly, we have the title itself, which juxtaposes two disparate identities which would supposedly share very different ‘realities’:

• ‘Beauty’ – a term which is used to label all the female contestants. This labels the women as ladies from a world of cosmetics, fashion, partying, and so on. Of course, the complexities of the connotations associated with the term ‘beauty’ can offer other readings to this specific vocabulary choice. It could be construed as ironic, as many of the women are presented (we will get to this) as vapid and superficial. But most likely it was chosen to give a ‘Beauty and the Beast’ type ring to the title.

• ‘Geek’ – when compared to its counterpart ‘nerd’, the nuances of the word ‘geek’ become clearer. This clearly suggests that the ‘geeks’ are socially inept, and withdrawn. It also credits them with a large intellect. These contestants, as with the ‘Beauties’ are initially presented as breathing, living stereotypes.

Having established through their title that the focus will be a clashing of realities, the show needs to create an atmosphere within the ‘house’. Naturally, this is one of fear and competition. The very language of the host, such as announcing to the team which ‘survived’ the elimination round, “you live to fight another day”, is suffused with conflict and competition. Contestants are forced to vote each other out, even though apparently everyone, including the host, agrees that it’s not easy or pleasant. This creates conflict within self, as some individuals struggle to choose a team to nominate. In these cases these choices are inevitably going to be made by impressions, or their reality of the others, as shaped by their interactions with and observations of them.
The atmosphere during elimination rounds is one of fear, which is added in an attempt to push contestants to the extremes of their personalities and aggression. In a way, the emotional space inhabited by the Beauties and Geeks is manipulated, altering and distorting their ‘reality’, if you will (and I will), in order to entertain.

Lastly, of course, is the representation of these realities by the editors and producers, which deserves equal discussion. How are these people represented, how can we know what is and isn’t taken out of context? It can be easy to throw back your head and let loose a full-bellied laugh at the contestants from your couch, thinking “at least I’m not as stupid/socially awkward/maladroit as that person”. Indeed, I think that a large part of these types of shows appeal is just that. And in presenting stereotypes to us, the show can sometimes lead us to forget they are complex human beings. Reality is distorted and simplified for our viewing pleasure.

So I think we can agree that there are three layers of reality within the show; the people’s realities (‘Beauty’ or ‘Geek’), their emotional/psychological reality as shaped by the fear and competition the whole show is saturated in, and the representation of these realities.

Frequently, perception of others and self perception are what really drive the conflict. The challenge for the Geeks this week was speed dating – the Geek with the highest totalled score from the women the winner. Upon hearing of the task, one Geek noted, “The calibre of a woman who would go on speed dating rather concerns me; they’re either really desperate, or really busy.” This quote is interesting for a few reasons. He has never actually been speed dating, but has already made his mind up about what sorts of people would go, and has decided, more or less, that it’s stupid. The origin of this constructed perception of speed dating, it could be postulated, may be the fact that he has never been speed dating – or any other dating, for that matter. So now he must admit to himself either that he is missing out and is ‘desperate’, or that the speed daters are the ‘desperate’ ones and he himself is above the whole thing. A reality must be constructed in order to validate his own perception of self.

One Geek later noted, “I always try not to get frustrated with my students because I appreciate that some people have differences in the way they think.” This quote was given as he attempted to teach space science to the Beauty he was paired with. His carefully tactful wording of his frustration shows both his ability to empathise with the Beauty, and his careful representation of his own reality.

The Beauties, too, offered some insights into individual realities. One Beauty mused upon the relativity of time, as she exclaimed “An hour – that’s not even long!” when told that she had an hour to prepare for her challenge. And another Beauties observation, as she watched her Geek partner dancing – “He looked like he needed to go to the toilet or something,” is clearly anchored by past experiences, when perhaps she has seen people acting in a similar manner before needing to “go to the toilet”. Thus her memories have a significant impact on the way in which she interprets, processes, and analyses the stimuli around her.

The clash of realities may not end in tragedy as in A Streetcar Named Desire or Enduring Love, but it certainly creates an interesting psychological study. The reality we are left with at the end of Beauty and the Geek is one which cannot be taken at face value, but which must rather be analysed carefully, so that we might be able to form our own individual interpretations, based on our own experiences and memories.

Well, there’s just one way to waste time. I hope it was mildly diverting.

No Longer a Student

So I haven't written much in a while, but I don't care much either. Today I finished school. It's an odd feeling. I think the main thing is that I realise that there are so many people that I see every day, talk to often, or occassionally, and only now that I am faced with the possibility of not seeing them for long whiles, I realise that they were awesome and I'll miss them being a part of my daily life.

And it's not even a case of "I'll miss them all, but especially" because there are so many 'especiallies', all for their own reasons - the funny people, the clever people (ok that's quite a few people). People I wish I had gotten to know better, people I hope I'll still see, and so on. I think it affirms two things for me:

a) I'm glad I went to the school I went to (does not need to be named here)

b) I should always make sure that I make the most of my time with people, talking to them, and getting to know people.

I haven't cried, and don't think I will. I just have some sort of odd mixture of nostalgia and sadness and memories and faces, and I don't know if there's a word in the English language that articulates it all for me yet.

So if you're one of those people, then thanks.

Whew, ok, done *wipes oddly shiny eyes*.

Lost in Translation

I think one of the major issues we're having with Kevin Rudd lately is just that we're not completely understanding what he's getting at. Perhaps a translation phrasebook would be useful:

Rudd-English Phrasebook

Rudd:
"People have to understand that because there's going to be the usual political shit storm, sorry, political storm."

English:
"Hey look everyone, I'm using the 's' word. Aren't I terribly hip - we're on the same wavelength here, aren't we? I'm just a typical Aussie bloke, and I'm every bit as prone to use a little bit of saucy language every now and then. Saucy..."

Rudd:
"Fair shake of the sauce bottle."

English:
"Oh dear me, excuse that, it's just my colloquial language, no doubt the sort of which you'd hear on your evenings down at the local pub, or just in common usage. Strewth."

Rudd:
"I don't care what you fuckers think!...You can get fucked!...Don't you fucking understand?"

English:
"Now is not a convenient time to discuss your printing allowances. I have a very strong stance on this, and don't wish to negotiate with you. Perhaps you could come back another time, as I am a little bit stressed at the moment. Do you not understand what I have just said?"

Rudd:
"In the unlikely event of the Bulldogs winning, I’ll wear their tie. The Lions scarf will compliment Julia’s hair! KRudd"

English:
"Look everyone, I'm Twittering!"

Rudd:
"First news I got having arrived in the states was that the Broncos had won. Terrific. Important work this week with UN & G20. KRudd"

English:
"Yay Broncos!!!!!...and im meant to be doing sumthing with g20 lol but really im just a normal bloke XD"

Take a Deep Breath...

Finally, some holidays, even if it will just be the calm before a massive studying storm. So why don't I mark this day by regaling you all with a freshly experienced incident from yesterday:

In a train carriage, headed out from the city, not overly busy, around 5.45pm. A group of friends were reading the mX, and briefly pondered how the horoscope section was written. Two friends leave, and only one is left, a rather plain looking boy, the sort that would keep a blog. A man is standing nearby, who has a wandering left eye or something. He laughs as the doors close.

Man (in an odd sort of voice - picture that as you will): Haha, horoscopes.

Boy (somewhat surprised, smiles politely and nods): ...

Man: Once I knew this person...and she always read the horoscopes. Ouahh....SO ANNOYING!!!

Boy: Ah..right.

Man: It was just like, shut up!

Boy: Yes, I can imagine...

Man: So you're all from (insert name of school)?

Boy (mildly surprised at the ID of school): Yes...

Conversation lapses into awkward silence.

Boy (against better judgement, volunteering more information): We're Year 12...so just preparing for exams and all...yeah...

Man: So where d'you wanna go?

Boy: Oh, well, there's this course at Melbourne Uni, Media and Communications, that I'm looking at at the moment...

Man: Ah, right. I never went to uni and stuff, I only finished school. I'm coming back from work now...

Boy (conversationally): Oh, right. So whereabouts do you work?

Man: ABC Childcare.

Boy: Oh, cool. Nice.

Man: Yeah...little kids...oh, they just came up and grabbed me today, grabbed me around the legs (waving his arms at his legs). It's amazing how kids just want to come up and...(gesturing at his legs again).

Boy: Mhm.

Man: Yeah, some kids...they just don't want to talk to you. But these ones today were like, all over you.

Pause.

Man: I've had to get a police check and everything...started in childcare last year...

Boy (inwardly alarmed, but retaining a calm demeanor with all the skill of the best spies): Sure, yeah.

Train begins pulling into station at which the boy is getting off.

Man: Yeah, I was based in Altona before, and all the kids were grubby and yukky...but not so much here, they're mostly clean...which is nice.

Boy: Yeah, probably wouldn't be too much fun having to clean up kids.

The train pulls into the station and stops. The boy gets off. The man does not.

This episode depressed me, because the thought which was running through my head when he was speaking with such enthusiasm about affectionate young children grabbing his legs was "oh shit, this guy is a pedophile". I suppose it's due in part to the recent attention over vigilante action over a particular offender living in the community, but it also just seems to be the trend. There's so much news that's bad news, that we instantly assume the worst when we're confronted with situations like this.

It's of course equally possible that this guy was harmful, or that he was just a lovely yet awkward man who had a deep non-sexual love for caring for innocent children. I'm not trying to make a point, or get all "WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE DAYS WHEN WE KNEW THE MILKMAN AND ALL LIVED IN HARMONY" or anything. It was just a bit sad, to realise how quickly the thought that the person I was talking to was a pedophile jumped into my mind, and tainted what could have just been a nicely awkward conversation.