Silly Nostalgia

I mean honestly. Nostalgia must be one of the strangest emotional states I've ever experienced.

What is it? How do you describe it outside of this term? It's sadness, remembered happiness, and a vague, dull, sense of loss. I was wondering today whether it's in any way useful. I suppose as a survival device it helps us remember a certain time or state or place or situation when were happy or safe, and so we can seek to emulate those circumstances, and hence keep ourselves alive.

But outside of that, it really doesn't do much except make you feel that odd combination of emotions.

I'm feeling it about school. The institution where I never had to choose, never had to think about my life and where I was going. All I had to choose were subjects. The rest was sorted for me. There's the class situation too. Tutes at uni just aren't the same. The conversations in English and Lit classes, the confusion and time wasting with friends in Maths...these situations can't be recreated. And probably shouldn't, for the sake of progress and a healthy mental state.

But nothing is sorted now. Now that I can do anything, I just don't know what to do.

At first, being a fan of Silent Witness, I thought I should be a forensic scientist because I'd be cool and competent and clever and good-looking and British and work with colleagues like these people:

But then I realised that it wouldn't be like the acclaimed BBC thriller at all, and most likely I'd be shut in a room with smelly corpses all by myself. Then I thought that perhaps I'd like to be spy, involved in high-security operations, with clever quips when I defeated people, and tense racy music as I waited for USBs to download top secret files. It must be said, Spooks (when is the next season coming out on ABC??!) makes it look terribly exciting.

But then the spies in that show have a pretty high turnover rate (Adam, left, died last year, presumably so that the actor Rupert Penry-Jones could go on to star in every BBC production since). And don't get me started on MasterChef.

It's not as if I'm overly dwelling on it. It just occurred to me. I'll be sure not to bring it up with the official running my driving test tomorrow:

Test instructor: Turn left, into the left lane.

Me: But I mean honestly, it's such an intangible feeling, isn't it? With rage, or anger, or happiness...they're more noticeable. You can say, I'm feeling happy, or I'm angry, and you know it. But nostalgia, see-

Test instructor: Turn left at the next street.

Me: See, it's so much vaguer and impossible to pinpoint. I don't even know if I enjoy feeling it or not...if it's healthy to wallow in it. Do you think-

Test instructor: Where possible, complete a three point turn.

Me: What, you mean here in this court, or in a metaphorical life sense?

I should probably get some sleep for that test now.

Lord of the Public Transport: Part II

The saga of my battle with the nefarious Victorian Department of Transport continues...

"The themes of good and evil have never been more strongly contrasted...a truly gripping adventure." - The Age

"Edge of your seat thriller guaranteed to leave you in an awe-struck state of shock. Amazing stuff." - Beryl, loves being invented and then quoted on blogs

When last we left our plucky hero (me), he had sent a most urgent missive to the Department of Transport, politely offering them one last chance to redeem themselves by recognising that the $172 fine they threatened him with was unreasonable.

Regrettably, their response only revealed their inability to empathise, and reiterated that he must pay their fine. And it is now that we pick up our story once more...

His hands trembled as he held the thin, crisp white sheet sent to him by the Department of Transport. Adrenalin and rage coursed through his veins, and he unleashed a cry of fury. Gnashing his teeth, he tore the paper apart, ripping each hatefully typed word into a thousand pieces*, before hurling the torn shreds from the highest tower of his castle**.

But as the rage subsided, and the bold red of righteous anger faded from his cheeks, he felt cold, calm purpose enter his consciousness once more. For there was work to be done.

The fine would be paid. Oh, yes, it would have to be paid. But there was still the question of his ticket, which had been abducted on that fateful day, and still languished, most likely in a decaying and mouldy cell***, at the hellish headquarters of that most unholy of institutions. There were trips left on that ticket. Trips on trains, trips on buses, trips on trams. That ticket had a life left -sunshine not yet felt, ticket validators not yet met, links to new places and train stations not yet forged...

And the boy knew with a comforting finality that he would never abandon his ticket to abuse and murder at the merciless talons of the Department of Transport.

He would seize it back.

Drawing up his favourite letter set and quill, he began to write with driven purpose:

Dear Department of Transport,

To say that I was disappointed with your curt response to my previous letter would be an understatement - nay, a downright lie!

If it was in blind trust that justice would be served that I wrote my previous letter, then it is in jaded cynicism that I write this. I will of course pay the fine your woefully incompetent administration has sent to me.

What I must also do, however, is demand at once that you release from the festering bowels of your rotten lair my 10 x 2 hourly ticket. God only knows what evil, perverted fate it has met at your grubby and unkempt hands. I shudder to think of the traumatic acts it has witnessed, suffered, and perhaps (and most horrifically) been forced to enact at your malevolent instigation.

You will release and return to me, untouched, my 10 x 2 hourly ticket. If you fail to release my ticket, I shall enlist the help of the Ents to wreak a most terrible and great destruction upon your offices. That's right, I will actually send mythological tree people to tear your premises asunder until I have freed the ticket I promised never to leave.

Yours in impatient and destructive wrath,

Gelati Gecko

As he wax sealed the envelope and summoned his noble palfrey upon whom he intended to deliver the message to the Black Gate of the Department of Transport, the boy gave a grim smile. It had begun.

*The paper was not actually ripped at all, but carefully filed away, as Gelati Gecko was far too clever to destroy a piece of evidence which may assist in charging the Department of Transport for their malfeasances.
**Ibid.
***This is merely an educated guess.

Girl Explores Self-Esteem In Lecture

A female first-year university student today mused upon her sexuality and identity during a lecture on the evolution of Business Culture and Enterprise.

For the better half of the forty-five minute lecture, she penned the capitalised words "EMILY IS A SEXY BITCH" into her lecture pad, which she retraced, perhaps in pensive afterthought, as she pondered the significance of this revelation.

By the end of the lecture, she had carefully crafted a sketch to accompany her self-affirmation. The rich illustration depicted the nubile female form, in a style reminiscent of the Botticelli-Revivalist school of artwork, drawing on a strong use of shadow and light to create a composition which she admitted was "deeply gratifying".

Nearby students complimented her after the lecture on her fine command of the black pen. "She really knew what she was doing," an awestruck student seated directly behind her observed with reverence. "Just the way that she carefully, and very deliberately, etched each letter, each pen stroke, into the paper, you'd swear it was being inscribed into her very soul".

The lecturer noted something was afoot. "Usually everyone loves the discussion of Business Culture, which examines rhetorical approaches across business, and the dichotomous division between centralisation of bureaucratic control and a decentralised, mobile and agile business model. But Emily seemed to be absorbed in a higher sphere of thinking..."

At the close of the lecture, Emily seemed to have reached a point of resolution, as she immediately closed her book, and, as one student noted, "left the lecture with all the speed and refreshed vigour of one who has come to terms with their inner-self and emerged in joyous celebration of their libido and sensuality."

"I certainly won't be digging deep," affirms Masterchef Mum

Melbourne mother of four Jocelyn O'Rourke is not doing MasterChef for her family.

"Oh God no," she responds with a well-humoured laugh. "I'm definitely not doing it to make them proud. To be perfectly frank, I'm just here to escape them for a few weeks. That's what's been really driving me in this competition. When I'm at home it's "what's for dinner Mum" this, and "I won't eat that". Little shits."

When asked whether she feels pride and love blossoming in her heart every time she cooks, her roundly and motherly face wrinkles with a wry smile as she replies, 'No, not at all. Sometimes I cry when I'm cutting onions, but I can't help that."

Jocelyn, a favourite tipped to win the competition, has miraculously avoided elimination challenges until last night, when a poorly executed mille-feuille pastry saw her in the bottom two. When asked how much staying in the competition would mean to her, she replied "Oh, you know, it's quite fun. But it's not the end of the world. I certainly don't expect I would become tearful or emotional should I be eliminated."

What's Going On...

I don’t know what to think.

Asylum seekers want to come to Australia. Australia is a big country. Other countries take in asylum seekers. Kevin Rudd said “The combined effects of this suspension and the changing circumstances in these two countries will mean that more asylum seekers from Sri Lanka and Afghanistan will be refused.” He said this as a means of defending the policy to stop processing refugees from Sir Lanka and Afghanistan for a period of up to 6 months.

Ostensibly, this is a way of deterring refugees coming to Australia. But if most of the people seeking asylum are genuine refugees, then surely a choice between savage war, lawless killings and bombings in their countries, and detention in Australia is a bit of a no brainer. So instead the policy just treats them like shit when they do get here.

But the main justification is what really confuses me. Immigration Minister Chris Evans pointed out that the policy decision is occurring as the UN High Commissioner for Refugees is reviewing the guidelines. That is to say, they are suggesting that Sri Lanka and Afghanistan are no longer as dangerous as they once were. Yet we still have troops in Afghanistan. Fighting. Fighting the Taliban. Who are killing people. But it’s no longer dangerous. Ok.

I had a look at the Department of Foreign Affairs website, to see if their assessment rating fitted in with their policy decisions. It might surprise you:

http://www.smartraveller.gov.au/zw-cgi/view/Advice/Sri_Lanka

http://www.smartraveller.gov.au/zw-cgi/view/Advice/Afghanistan

Sri Lanka: “State of Emergency” and “attacks could occur anytime, anywhere in Sri Lanka.”

Afghanistan: “extremely dangerous security situation and the very high threat of terrorist attack.”

I don’t see how this is the right thing to do. Keeping people in detention for an unspecified period of time when they have done nothing wrong but to seek asylum here...pretty much sounds like evil to me.

So then, if I’m going to criticise this policy, what would I do? What can we do? It is true that Christmas Island is overflowing. But to me this means the government needs not to halt processing of asylum seekers, but to improve the system. Make it more efficient and humane.

It’s hard to believe that Australia’s government is actually incapable of processing refugees. According to The Age (10th April, 2010), around 2, 700 refugees arrived last year. Is it really impossible to have systems in place to deal with that amount? The number of people who immigrated to Australia last year was 171, 320 according to the government statistics here:

http://www.immi.gov.au/media/statistics/statistical-info/visa-grants/migrant.htm

Everything I see only confirms the notion that politicians do very little. It’s funny, because in Australia we have a strong, almost stereotypical distrust of politicians. There’s a plethora of jokes about how two-faced and morally bankrupt politicians are. But the sad thing is that continually I seem to see that so many of them are.

Kevin Rudd was voted in for a number of reasons, and one of those was a commitment to bring about a humane response to asylum seekers. To see this coming out really makes me angry and sad. I don’t know which party I’ll vote for at the next election. It’s like choosing between two toys I don’t want:




Kevin Rudd!
NOW with new contrived, pompous apologies at the pull of a string! Adjusts glasses frequently! Claims to be a Christian, but with NEW XTREME backflip ability, enabling him to imprison traumatised people escaping from war and death!!!



NEW! Tony Abbott!
- Supercharged energised battery life!
- Equipped with two-face ability – able to pander to most audiences, adjusting views as necessary!*
*Disclaimer: Will not believe in climate change.

Existence and Stuff...

So here I am, driven back to my blog by the mounting piles of work. Blogging once again takes up its role as my Procrastination God, to whom I will make regular offerings of questionable quality.

I could write about how I don't understand how Nike's new ad with Tiger Woods's dead father's voice is meant to be positive, or how it's sad that nobody really bats an eyelid over the leaked videos of American soldiers in helicopters gunning down civilians, but I'll put cynicism and sarcasm up on the shelf for now.

Instead, I'll attempt to articulate the most challenging train of thought which has come to me of late.

Living. Dying. What the hell.

Why do we have religion, and a God? The more I see, the more I have come to believe that a faith which includes a God achieves a few things:

- It encourages people to live good lives, where they have positive relationships with people around them.
- It comforts people, as they are assured that their lives are being watched over by some clever guy in the sky who has it all sorted.

So then it might be easy to say that God doesn't exist. But. God hasn't been around in any tangible form for quite some time, if the Bible is to be believed.

So perhaps it is, that God exists solely through faith. In that God does exist, because people believe in him. Like a philosophy, God is able to be followed by some people, and hence exert a tangible influence upon real people - he can give some strength, fuel others' hatred, spread love, etc.

Of course if we accept this, then it follows that there is nothing waiting after death. We are simply organisms, a bunch of chemical reactions which defy the laws of nature to continue to give us life. How bizarre is that thought? That the words which come to me now aren't coming from some sort of innate 'spirit' I possess, but simply from a bunch of connections and neurons in my brain, drawing on memories, thoughts, learnt vocabulary, etc., to manufacture these thoughts?

And I've also been thinking about how easy it is to die. And it terrified me at first. Friends, family, anyone - anyone can suddenly have something go wrong in their body, something happen to them, and they will stop. There will not be a replacement. There is nothing else. They would be gone.

But then out of this comes the question: What's the point of living?

And the best answer I've found to this so far? There is no point, just take it and go with it.

I think that it only makes me determined to squeeze the most out of life while I have it - and reaching this conclusion through my own chain of thought, rather than reading "Seize the day" on the front of a post-it-note, really creates a lasting emotional and mental imprint.

So I've now decided that I need to make the absolute most of everything around me. Feel, smell, taste, see, hear, all that I want to. I will try NOT to let myself get too bogged down in life's details to forget to stop and live.

I don't know whether everyone has these thoughts at some stage. I do know that not too many people have told me if they have.

I hope you all get what I mean.

Taking a look at Facebook

I wrote this for my course. It's meant to be a 'personal column'. Apparently this first draft is too opinionative at the moment.

"Add me as a friend – but if you delete me after adding me, I will kill you." This was a Facebook message I received from someone who had recently sent me a ‘friend request’ on Facebook. He was not someone I spoke to in 'real life', and so upon receiving his request I joked that "if we become Facebook friends you do realise you’ll have to say hi to me in real life!" He did not appreciate the joke, and instead sent me a torrent of abuse. And I was left wondering why he had added me, and what it means to be ‘friends’ on Facebook.

Perhaps I am unusual in that the only ‘friends’ I have on Facebook are friends. People I will laugh and talk with outside of the cyber-world of ‘liking’, statuses, profile photos and wall posts. But it seems that more and more Facebook ceases to become about connecting with other people in a meaningful way, but about projecting an image of yourself to an online community, many of whom you may barely know. The numbers of friends added is sometimes boasted, as a kind of tally of social proficiency. Similarly, posting on someone’s wall seems to some to be a form of branding, a public display of your closeness to that person. Statuses are posted, like fishing hooks, to elicit a reaction, comments, or validation of some sort from the Facebook community.

The issues of social etiquette on Facebook are also being shaped as more and more people move to this new form of ‘communication’. Jokes about ‘stalking on Facebook’ are abundant, but where is the line really drawn? Is rifling through somebody’s photos ok? Commenting on a wall post that doesn’t directly concern you? How intimate or private is a wall post? Everyone has different ideas about this, and no comprehensive answers have yet been found.

Only the other day, someone made a post on my Wall which made specific reference to a private event being organised. I deleted it, and sent an email asking that they keep any correspondence regarding the event to emails. And it led me to wonder why they decided to make a post on my Wall, given that the contents concerned me alone. The most likely explanation seemed to me to return to what I’ve come to call ‘branding’ – where people very carefully send out a particular image of themselves, through highlighting the people they associate with, the pages they are fans of, the way they choose to represent themselves in their profile photo, and the way they think, through statuses (which some friends have told me they will only send out at ‘prime time’ – e.g. 8pm, to get the highest chance of a response).

It seems to me that people are becoming more conscious of their profile pages, and what they perceive them to say about themselves – I have friends who edit their pages, deleting things they feel don’t fit in with their identity or self-image. And despite the arsenal of communication tools at a Facebook user’s fingertips, there are those who seem lonely. People who ‘like’ and comment on the ‘statuses’ and photos of their ‘friends’ compulsively. People who send out ‘statuses’ voicing isolation, perhaps subconsciously hoping for someone to comfort them with a friendly comment. And when there is no response from their 312 ‘friends’, I suspect it only deepens the feeling of isolation, as some people have suggested to me that they think that if someone fails to respond on Facebook, it suggests that they would ignore you had you said to them in real life, ‘I feel lonely’, for example.

I have caught myself, too, more times than I care to admit, trawling through the cyber-lives of Facebook friends, clicking from one life to the next as if each person’s Facebook activity were a program on television, channel surfing from one profile to the next, until, with the same guilt I feel after watching The View or Dr. Phil during lunch, I close the computer and get outside.
Facebook can be great. But it doesn’t hurt to get it out of your face, step back, and have a good look at Facebook.

Gelati Gecko Writes a Bitter Letter

Yes, it does seem to happen more often than is healthy, doesn't it...

I was booked last month for travelling on a tram without a valid ticket. At the time I was annoyed at being booked, as my I felt that I had done nothing wrong (forgetting to validate the ticket for the three minute trip), and was being targeted and made to feel like one of those people who never buy a ticket. I felt victimised, against all rationality.

Only today I received the letter from the Department of Transport with the details of my fine, asking that I pay it. Again I felt incredible anger seize me as I stared at their official letter. Rather than pushing my feeling of injustice aside as unreasonable (which it absolutely is), I decided to put aside logic, and allow my emotions to present their argument, without any censorship, so I might be able to better understand where these strong emotions were coming from. This letter is the result...

To Whom It May Concern,

I was flummoxed to recently receive a $172 fine from the Department of ‘Transport’ (if indeed this title in any way represents their alleged responsibilities). Not because I do not recall an incident in which I was travelling without a valid ticket on a tram, but because I had hoped that some common sense would apply in this situation. Although I now see that my naive assumption of common sense within the Department of Transport is contrary to all my previous dealings with them.

I have all my life been a law abiding user of public transport. I have owned a yearly ticket throughout my years at high school, and was using a yearly until the 28th of February this year. In the interim between using my yearly ticket and the appallingly introduced ‘myki’, I purchased a 10 x 2 hourly ticket which I used as I began my tertiary studies in the city. On the morning in question, I had validated my ticket on the way in. It was as I took the 3 minute tram ride up to Melbourne University in the afternoon that I forgot to validate my ticket on the tram, being used to using a yearly ticket. As I have never committed any previous ‘offence’ against the against the public transport system, it would be fair to say I am upset at the way in which I have been treated.

I have been made to feel like a criminal. From the wary condescension of the ticketing officers to the letter which informs me I have committed an ‘offence’ (carrying the implication that I have offended someone), I have not once felt like I was being treated as a valued customer of the Department of Transport who had made a mistake, but instead like a thief, criminal, or vagrant. Of course I know that this is because the Department places little value on their customers, knowing full well that for many there is no alternative to the shoddy joke that is the Melbourne train system.

All the same, it does raise the question of the relationships being established between the community and the Department of Transport. After being treated this way, I certainly have lost the little respect I ever held for this department, and should anyone besmirch the name of the Department of Transport in the future, I will be quite likely to let them go ahead – hey, I might even join in. By alienating and insulting your patrons, you only set yourselves up for the widely held bitterness and disdain heaped upon you by the public.

The fact that my irregular 10 x 2 hourly ticket was to tide me over until I switched to myki is also relevant, I believe. The information available on myki was disappointing at the time. Pamphlets were in abundance, but staff seemed to know little about myki, and it was extremely difficult to try and figure out if I was getting the best value (knowing full well that I wasn’t getting good value at all, it was more like trying to choose the least bad value).

Lastly comes the very concept of paying fines. The general idea in most cases, is that the public pay fines when they have committed a misdemeanour, and these fines are able to help fund benefits for the wider community. An admirable system. Only I honestly don’t trust the Department of Transport to appropriately spend the $172 which they are asking me for. Throwing quite literally hundreds of millions of dollars at the myki ticketing system, which ended up costing over a billion dollars (when a comparable system in London cost just over 200 million dollars), they don’t exactly inspire confidence. Rather, it might be best if I take my money and invest it into the transport system as I see fit – perhaps put it towards replacing some of the inadequate infrastructure that Connex had to work with. Notably, Metro is now in its third consecutive month of service, and after underperforming in each of those months, will receive a ‘formal warning’ from the very State Government responsible. Nice work.

The funniest part is that I know that none of what I have said above will count in any way. Valuing and caring for customers, spending funds appropriately, and providing a competent transport system have never appeared to be on the agenda for the Department of Transport. By the time you read this I will have already paid my fine, and sunk back into submission as an unwilling commuter on the Victorian transport system.

Yours in anger, sadness, disappointment, resignation, jaded cynicism, and impotent rage (all inspired by The Noble Department of Transport, no less),

Gelati Gecko


P.S. To whoever is reading, I realise you bear no responsibility for the sins of your employers and their forebears. I hope I made what must no doubt be a tedious job slightly more interesting.

...I think I'll send it.

Oh Nestle!

So in the Public Relations subjects of my course, we're looking at brand strategies and the ways in which companies are attempting to interact via social media such as Facebook and Twitter.

A recent focus has been on Nestle and their recent foray into Facebook with a fan page, which anybody can join and of course comment on. Unfortunately for Nestle, there are quite a few people who have issues with their business practices (namely cutting down rainforests in Indonesia for palm oil (used in Kit Kats), thus destroying natural habitats for endangered species such as the orangutan):

http://www.digitaljournal.com/article/289481

Nestle's response can be found here:

http://www.nestle.com/MediaCenter/SpeechesAndStatements/AllSpeechesAndStatements/statement_Palm_oil.htm

And of course this has resulted in some less than desirable comments on their Facebook page:

http://www.facebook.com//#!/pages/Nestle/24287259392

And on their photos on their Facebook page...

http://www.facebook.com//#!/photo.php?pid=1175186&id=24287259392&fbid=59312519392
(note the tags and comments)

So pretty much what was intended as a hip and trendy demonstration of Nestle's ability to be relevant and down with the younger generation, has backfired into Nestle setting up their own cyber punching bag, through which they are being mercilessly pummelled. They can't cut all the comments, nor have they been able to attract supporters.

...well I thought it was kinda interesting.

University Fire Drill

A routine university fire drill held today at a university in Melbourne failed abysmally, as some learning schools took over 3 hours to evacuate all their students, owing to overly wordy and complex emergency instructions from the teachers.

"It really didn't feel urgent," one Communications student commented afterwards. "Our lecturer just told us, 'for this drill to be effective, it is necessary to believe in the 'collective imagined emergency', a reality which must be embraced by the entire society of the university - remembering, of course, that this is a participatory form of communication, as distinct from interrogative, where an exchange of communication takes place. In this way, there are many contributions which together form the entirety of the so called 'fire drill'.' It seemed to me at the time a convoluted line of thought, which failed to provide any real insights into the fire drill."

Lecturer Griffythson held his ground. "Of course, I could have just read 'We are having a fire drill. You must all leave your books and materials in this room, and follow me to the assembly area'. But I felt it important to provide my students with a theoretical and academic commentary on the complex sociological interactions taking place. Remembering, of course," he added, "that the concept of a communicative entity or body, traversing a linear pathway of homogenous, vacuous time is highly relevant to such an example."

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.