Sunday, October 3, 2010

Political Rant :D

Well, I posted this as a note on Facebook, so why not blog it.

So I was reading this article a couple of days ago, and I thought it raised a pretty interesting point about the attitudes of westerners. For those not bothered to read the article, it basically drew attention to the irony of the Tea Party: as of now anyway, most of its constituents are “angry” about unemployment, taxes and big government, in light of the economic downturn in the US; most of them are also white, married, middle-aged and have above average education levels. I.E, they’re not the people who have been hit hardest by the recession, (the unemployment rate for blacks is estimated to be 25% compared to a national average of maybe 10). This brought me to the rather uncomfortable and paradoxical conclusion that the more well-off we become, the more selfish we grow and the more we want. Not that poor people aren’t selfish, of course, but they seem to be proportionally less so than rich people, given their situations. It’s generally the rich who complain about insane tax rates, and while I accept that they pay nominally and proportionally more taxes and receive less government benefits, they also have longer life expectancies, better health and healthcare, and affluent areas are less prone to high rates of crime (see this.

Another striking example, and one that’s a bit closer to home, is the asylum seeker or “boat people” issue. Undoubtedly our darling pollies have duped us into thinking it’s far more pressing than it actually is, but they wouldn’t have gone on fear mongering sprees if they didn’t think it wouldn’t gain them votes. Which reflects rather badly on Australians, to the degree that one can make such generalisations. There were 2927 boat arrivals in Australia last year, and 4822 this year. Roughly 1-2% of our total migrant intake. Roughly 0.1-0.2% of Australia’s population. (Sidenote: I have no idea why the fact that they’re “boat people” as opposed to “plane people” makes a difference, but whatever floats your...)

I’ve heard many, many arguments in favour of refusing to accommodate boat people. Several of the most significant hinge on the idea that catering to their needs might endanger Australians’ standard of living. This is either because A, they bring nothing useful to Australia and are a drain on resources, or B, they’ll steal jobs from workers. Both can’t be true at the same time, and I believe neither is. But whatever people believe, I doubt a few thousand refugees will have us all homeless and begging any time soon. The US received 49 thousand claims for asylum in 2009, and they’re about 11 places further down on the Human Development Index. And in per capita terms of hosting refugees, we’re ranked 69th. Remember, most will try to escape to neighbouring i.e. developing countries, those that are comparatively ill-equipped to manage them. In 2009, countries hosting the largest numbers of refugees included Pakistan (1.8m), Syria (1.1m) and Iran (980 thousand), ranked 141st, 107th and 88th by HDI, respectively. I don’t claim to be an expert, but I have a feeling the citizens of these countries were less worried about diseased queue-jumping refugees than about poverty, instability and corruption. People could argue that they don’t care simply because they’re too busy dealing with more pressing issues; I think that makes us first-worlders look even worse. What have we got to complain about, really? And if you think they’re that selfish over in Pakistan, I suggest you have a read of this.

More ideologically, I also stumbled upon this article, which is perhaps the most thought-provoking piece I’ve read in a while. I don’t agree with all of what the author asserts about “white liberals”, but I definitely think number 5 deserves merit:

5. It's not a "[insert racial group here]" issue as much as it is a "human" issue.

Last year, the outreach program Keep a Child Alive ran an AIDS awareness campaign featuring headshots of Western celebrities adorned with facepaint and large block letters proclaiming, "I Am African". The high-profile roster included such human rights luminaries as Gwyneth Paltrow, Sarah Jessica Parker and only one person who could actually claim to be African: supermodel Iman. There was a rapid backlash to the campaign and its asserted motives: "Each and every one of us contains DNA that can be traced back to our African ancestors... Now they need our help." Its flaws were easily exposed by a deft parody that reversed the roles portraying an African woman with the tagline, "I am Gwyneth Paltrow".

The campaign fit neatly into a framework of universal humanism, where a Westerner, with enough knowledge and/or empathy, could speak for another. Universalism, as it has existed, has refused to allow nonwhiteness to exist in any real or multifaceted way, and while Gwynnie can stand in for Africa, a nameless African woman could never replace her, or the "West" for that matter. This is yet another permutation of colorblindness that denies those who most experience racial oppression the right to speak to it. In the introduction to Notes of a Native Son, James Baldwin writes,

"When we talk about color, we are not merely speaking about phenotype, but experience, oppression, and livelihoods -- things that inform our humanity."

Even Toni Morrison (and she's not the only person who said this) made an egregious error when, in a New Yorker article, she said Bill Clinton was the first "black president." She said his background and the potshots directed at his sex life were indicative of the black experience. Not really. Nothing can stand in for having dark skin. It's also especially ironic because policies he espoused resulted in higher incarceration rates for black people.


Though that article deals mainly with the issue of race, I think the above statement is applicable to... well, everyone. White, preppy, Christian, male Tony Abbott shouldn’t be taking the moral high ground on abortion, because – let’s face it – he doesn’t have the same understanding of the issue as the rape victim or the working class teenage mother. His problem is that he lacks sympathy, (and, some might argue, hasn’t really attempted to sympathise).

But by the same token, I don’t think white liberals should assume that their progressive ideals render them especially well-informed/enlightened/intelligent. I’m not implying that they’re unintelligent, only that it’s presumptuous for them to think they understand the plight of minorities, and thus know best how to remedy their situations. Their problem is their inability to realise that sometimes, empathising is impossible.

In my view, person A (a white liberal) has absolutely no right to censure person B (another white person) for saying or doing something, simply because person A believes it to be racist and offensive. Now obviously, you have to apply common sense to that idea. Saying “black people are evil and deserve to die” is probably something a lot of black people would find offensive. But saying “Chinese food is gross” or “I think Indian dancing is boring” is merely expressing a preference that doesn’t necessarily reflect on someone’s racial prejudices, or lack thereof. (Another fascinating and important aspect of this issue is dealt with quite adequately here).

The indomitable self-righteousness of some liberals (of all ethnicities) irritates not only conservatives, who are often made to feel that they’re evil simply for possessing “unfashionable” views, but minority groups as well. A lot of people are shocked when I tell them my friends laugh at me when I walk into things/people. They think, no doubt, that I shouldn’t have to be humiliated for something I can’t control or avoid. They’re right, and occasionally it’s painful and/or embarrassing, but you know what? In the vast majority of cases I don’t give a damn, because I do grasp the humorous aspect and I laugh along with my friends. And when it is painful or embarrassing? I suck it up. That’s the way it should be, there’s little to be gained from spending my life walled up in a self-imposed prison of disadvantage. And, having encountered a fair few disadvantaged people, I know that a lot of them have similar mindsets. We don’t want people treating us like hypersensitive basketcases, because that can be just as offensive as insensitivity.

Of course, I recognise that it works the other way as well. Up until a few months ago, I relegated the anti-using-the-word-gay-pejoratively campaign to the “politically oversensitive” bin, though I can assure everyone I’ve never used it pejoratively or encouraged the practice. This was mainly because just about every openly gay person I’d met was confident in their sexuality, and most of them made and took gay jokes in good humour. Additionally, many of the really ardent anti-pejorative-ists I’d encountered were straight white liberals. After reading Darren’s note, however, I came to realise my error, i.e. assuming I knew how gay people respond in relation to that issue.

I think that a lot of the “white liberal” or “male feminist” or “rich philanthropist” sentiment arises from a sense of guilt, (this was also addressed in the abovementioned article). And from that guilt, there develops a desire to understand the wrongs inflicted. This kinda harks back to what I said earlier about empathy, and I’m all for acknowledgement of past and continuing disadvantage, but as I’ve said, there are limits. Because of the unique understanding granted by experience, I believe (feel free to correct me if I’m wrong) that a lot of upper-class liberals either wish, or like to believe, they have experienced oppression. In some ways I don’t blame them, or us I suppose. My parents tell me that it’s mighty fine to aspire to be a low-paid professional who sticks up for the little guy, but that I’ve never lived without, so I take for granted the lifestyle of the well-off. Who wouldn’t feel rightfully frustrated by being sidelined for such a reason?

For a long time I resented my affluent background, because I felt it rendered me a preachy hypocritical loser. A tiny part of me probably still feels that way. But after giving it some thought, I realised how horrible that mentality is. If I really were poor, if my parents had to work inconceivable hours or struggled to find work, if they couldn’t afford laptops or mp3 players or slick new mobile phones or any mobile phones or adequate healthcare or enough food, I think I’d be far more concerned about making ends meet than about political credibility. Which is why the idea of wishing all that upon myself, simply in order to gain political credibility, is rather sickening.

I hope my ramblings haven’t offended anyone too severely, but if they have, I’m sure you’ll live.

BTW, If I’ve tagged you, it means I think you might be vaguely interested in what I have to say. If I’m being presumptuous in doing so, I apologise, lol.

(P.S: I suck at html)

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Just realised I haven’t written one of these in forever!

And I actually have time now! Though I don’t have much to say. Weird how that happens, whenever there are looming exams there are always a hundred non-exam related things to do, but otherwise life is almost boring.

Year 12 grad was... well, I can’t say enjoyable (these things rarely are), but I’m really glad I went. It was weird to realise that they’re finally leaving, that we’re now the oldest grade in the school, that it’ll be our turn next year. I dunno about time flying, but I do think there seems to be less of it when you’re looking into the past compared to the future. Wending our way through the crowd and awkwardly hugging/farewelling people was even weirder, kind of like “awww I’ll miss you make sure you keep in touch good luck for year 12”, empty comments which were all basically saying the same thing repeatedly, i.e. “omfg, this can’t possibly be happening already, not yet”.

How do the teachers live with it, I wonder? Having their heartstrings screwed around with every year? Maybe they develop an immunity to attachment or something, that’d probably be the wisest course of action I suppose.

Also, a semi-public congrats congrats congrats to Eda, for winning the SMH Writing Competition! With the duck story, as hilariously and perhaps inaptly coined by Sneha. You will tank Eng Ext 2, Eda!

Also omfg. Omfg aahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaghaaaaaalbsdlhflkahs Tony Abbott you should grow the f**k up and stop screwing over the parliament, the government, your own reasonable party members and the people of Australia. Seriously. Get over yourself. And stop calling bloody everything unconstitutional... you’re starting to sound like the Tea Party. (Yeah, that was meant to be an insult not a compliment).

Would an informal agreement about the pairing of the speaker have been ‘unconstitutional’ if the Coalition was in government and had a 2-seat majority? Huh? Like, not only have you attempted to release a statement in Alex Somlyay’s name contradicting his views and wishes, but you’ve accused Labor of forcing him to renege on the deal. Cos Joe Hockey certainly supported that assertion the other night with his declamatory remarks about how outraging the agreement was. You. Make. Me. Sick.

OK, must stop now. 

Friday, July 2, 2010

Update!

Well, after reading this, (if that isn’t readable without a subscription, go get one now), I decided I should attempt to revive this blog! Especially considering I won’t be worrying about anything work-related within the next... 24 hours, at least.

What has happened over the past 6 months? Let’s see. I traveled overseas for 3 weeks without my parents. To Europe, specifically. I entered the senior school. BP ruined everything. And we have our first female PM.

Europe... I really regret not writing about it months earlier, while the memories were fresh. Thinking about it now, it feels a bit like a fantastic dream. Certain events are still vivid, but the whole experience seems somehow quite remote. That’s what 6 months of senior school does to you, I suppose. But it was all so new and exciting and just a little bit scary, I did things I never thought I’d do and it was over in no time at all. (Don’t misinterpret that, I’m still a virgin lol). There was snow and mulled wine and dancing unashamedly to club hits. Snuggling and socializing at 1 in the morning, high on a mixture of cider and adrenalin. Hostels with free wireless connectivity and no towels, hitting the sack at 3 A.M with feet on fire and brain barely functioning, finding ourselves in the lobby at 7:00 the next morning wondering why the hell we were there. There was the guy who barged into our room and verbally abused us in Hungarian. We watched BNP member Nick Griffin give this speech at a sitting of the EU Parliament. Some of us visited Dachau concentration camp, that was a sobering experience I don’t think I’ll ever forget. We became addicted to the creepy games and dirty talk, the political sparring and politically incorrect jokes, we really grew to love each other. Three weeks, then we returned to our respective states, our respective lives. Now, I think I realize why distance kills relationships. In general that is, not romantic ones. It’s not so much about the physicality, it’s about not being able to do things together. Znot that those relationships have been killed, exactly, but it’s been hard to keep them alive. I miss them, I really do. Shared interests aren’t everything, but they certainly count for something.

2/3 of year 11 is done. My work ethic has barely improved, nor my exam results, but at least I enjoy the majority of my subjects. My teachers are excellent, as are most of my classes and courses, and I don’t have to put up with Geo, Maths or the Chem/Phys elements of Science. Or Australian History. I will admit, the workload is getting a bit crazy. You know you’re in the senior school when you have 5+ assessments in one week and they still refuse to call it assessment week... But I actually love being a senior. Many of the teachers really do treat us quite differently, they’re generally far less suspicious and give us the benefit of the doubt, as well as a bit more respect. It’s sudden rather than gradual, the uniform makes all the difference. I don’t like that particular aspect of it, it encourages pigeonholing on the part of the staff, complacency on the part of the seniors and resentment on the part of the juniors. Scholastic/social hierarchies, yay.

BP? Check this out. That is all.

Julia Gillard! Yes, I think she’ll be a better PM. Yes, she has two X chromosomes and thus it is a historic occasion. Yes, I believe she has a better chance of keeping that crazy creature Abbott out of power. But yes, I also think that all the people, particularly Labor supporters, who have dismissed Kevin without an ounce of pity, are heartless individuals devoid of common decency. Just because Julia is a better PM, that doesn’t make what was done to him OK. Just because he fell short of everyone’s expectations, that doesn’t mean he deserved it. Those faceless factional powerbrokers who installed our first female PM? They were the ones who pressured Rudd into scrapping the ETS. He was a centralist, and the one time he submitted to the demands of his fellow cabinet members...

He was a fence-sitter, a populist, a centralist and by many accounts he possessed quite a foul temper and mouth. But he led Labor to victory in 2007. However much he wasn’t, or didn’t, or couldn’t, I think he deserves some respect and sympathy. Even from the feminists who, in their excitement over Gillard, have forgotten that it was once a choice between Rudd and Abbott. Abbott, the staunch conservative who opposes abortion, premarital sex and no-fault divorce. Argh, I’m sure you lefties can spare some of that compassion which drives you to scream down politically incorrect satirists you don’t understand. Even my decidedly conservative Dad felt sorry for Kevin!

To end on a more light-hearted note, check this awesome YouTube video out!

And for now, adieu.

Thursday, December 31, 2009

Well, I wanted to get one more post in before the turn of the decade.

Please note: if this post is horrible, rambling, ungrammatical or in any other way offensive, I apologise in advance.

First of all, this article is very cute, you all ought to go read it.

Hmmm, clichéd as it sounds, I can't believe it's New Year's Eve already. I suppose it shouldn't be that much of a surprise, given that I can't even remember what went on this time last year. Actually, I can recall New Year’s Eve of 1999 with more clarity, even though nothing really happened. All I really remember is dozing off on the living room floor in front of the TV, waking a few minutes after 12 AM, and feeling mildly disappointed that I hadn’t managed to stay awake for that particular countdown. I was 6, and very little was important back then. When I was a few years older, I reflected that I was probably lucky to have been alive and vaguely cognizant during the turn of the... millennium? but the passing of time didn’t matter much then, either. At 16, it seems much more significant. I’m not a geriatric I swear, and this has more to do with my own parochial life than with humanity in general. Still, unless someone lives in complete isolation, surely their experiences reflect upon mankind as a whole.

Between the ages of 6 and, perhaps, 10, my interests dwelt with friends, toys and books. Pretty typical of a kid, really. There was the origami, the gemstones, Redwall, Harry Potter and Deltora.

School was fun but rarely stimulating, all music save classical was for losers, and my family were still cool. Watching documentaries was a great pastime, and I tried (and failed) to start a diary about 3 times. No one I didn’t know meant anything, except perhaps some famous dead people. September 11 was relegated to that morning when my muzzy mind registered that something was amiss.

Our trip to Bali was particularly memorable. We spent 40 minutes bargaining for a ring that cost 25000 rupiah, the equivalent of $5. We went parasailing, and I fell off a jet ski. All this, of course, before the Bali bombings.

I gleefully memorized the names of the two bugs that were said to be polluting Sydney’s tap water, though I still have no idea how to spell them.

I was beyond spoilt, and the only person who seemed to notice was my eldest sister. That was probably instrumental in the breakdown of her relationship with my parents, come to think of it.

So, what changed? Well, school, for one thing. Opportunity Class was/is not a crime, but it certainly challenged. I was no longer pampered and popular, no longer the smartest kid in the class, no longer assured in the knowledge that I had loyal friends. I spent lunchtimes huddled in a corner of the playground, feeling simultaneously invisible and glaringly conspicuous. School work was taxing, I made mistakes and my teachers never refrained from providing constructive criticism. Criticism? Who needed that?

From this angle, it was a character building experience. The world, I discovered, did not revolve around me. Fancy that! Nor, I realized, did possession of an oversized ego do me any favours.

11 to 15 was the era of music and males. The former came packaged with blindy interaction, the perfect antidote to my disastrous school life. You, if any of you are reading this, were a fascinating and occasionally friendly lot. Crude, intimidating, patronizing but somehow... I couldn’t stay away from you. Though I was too young and immature to be taken seriously, I didn’t know it then.

Music was Michael Buble and Kelly Clarkson, Avril Lavigne and Evanescence. Later, it was Crowded House and The Whitlams, Aled Jones, Chopin. Music brought people together, it divided the diehards into their little cliques, it was stirring and relaxing, it was cathartic and didactic. Above all, it was fun. Plus, I loved my disorganized music library, relegated though it was to a 5-digit number to be shoved in people’s faces at opportune moments.

When I was around 12, the ‘crush’ developed into something more intense, and from there everything just went downhill. I was endowed with a healthy dose of skepticism where all things love-related were concerned, this evaporated at the onset of adolescence.

As I fumbled my way into acceptance at high school and the blindy melodrama abated somewhat, I became afflicted with that debilitating and rather inconvenient ailment known as ‘love’. Don’t laugh, it did all sorts of horrible things to my head!

Well, after wasting 2-3 years of my life chasing a couple of people and dabbling more than briefly in the art of reciprocation, I have been granted another dose of skepticism, this time of all things longevity-related. Aah, such is life.

(Footnote: all relevant emotions have been suppressed for brevity’s sake, and to preserve the reputation of yours truly).

So whilst several countries were being screwed over by Mr. Bush’s fictitious WMDs and the world was cowering from bird flu and Sars, I matured. Still as self-centred as ever, of course, few teenagers aren’t.

I discovered the internet, in all its potentially catastrophic splendor. Wikipedia became my new best friend, I managed to keep a rambling journal half alive and I grabbed a Facebook account at least a year before it became popular. I even have a folder of favourited YouTube videos, and it has about 200 links in it! I succumbed to the Twitter frenzy, but I never, ever fell victim to Myspace. Even so, I am undeniably a digital native.

2007, enter politics. Australian Liberal Party FTW, or something. Aah, what a fool I was. I knew the facts (or some of them), I just didn’t know myself. And to think I supported John Howard in the federal election... Don’t worry all you dyed-in-the-wool lefties, I was censured for it by at least three people.

Fanfiction came and went. I read about 10 Harry’s dating 10 different chicks in 10 alternate universes, before Sword of Truth provided some variety and another Christmas rolled around.

Miriani, the only game I was ever addicted to. I squandered literally hundreds of hours on it, almost became romantically attached to one of the characters, had my dreams shattered by Drew Anderson, and earned the trust of the most proficient pilot in the galaxy. Not bad for 6 months’ intensive gameplay, no?

And as the global economy crumbled and the United States found its first black president, I was finally becoming aware of everything! By everything, I mean current affairs and politics, poverty and the trade disparity, systemic abuses of human rights and Uncle Sam’s real agenda. Work choice laws were for those narcissistic, egocentric fatcats, climate change was going to kill everyone tomorrow and the Iraq war? Puh-leez!

2009: the most dynamic year yet. 2006 came a close second, but it can’t beat the following:

  • Having a life changing experience. Over the space of one weekend

  • Receiving two of the most fantabulously awesome birthday cards ever

  • Having both parents forget one’s 16th birthday!

  • Watching one’s social circle disintegrate, and being powerless to stop the process

  • Rubbing shoulders with some of the most creative, intelligent and inspiring individuals in the country

  • Reading two newspapers. Regularly.

  • Pulling wayyyyyy too many all-nighters for the sake of those damned assignments

  • Learning to master the essay! ‘Nuff said

  • Studying for an exam. Actually studying! Properly!

  • Reading for the sake of reading

  • Loathing oneself with such intensity that the result is irrepressible sobbing

  • Loving school

  • Looking forward to the future.



So, 2019. I’ll be 26, with any luck I’ll have graduated from uni, and chances are I’ll have forgotten all about this post. Will I be married? Sure hope not. Will I be happy with my lot? Who knows?

And what about the rest of the world? What about the elements of life that really matter, those I have no control over? Will anyone be on track for their 2020 carbon emissions reduction targets? Will there even be any targets? Will absolute poverty be reduced? Will the Afghan war be in the history books yet?

At this point, the frivolous discussion taking place between a dozen adults in the next room is looking very inviting. As is the guacamole sitting in front of me, and the prospect of not having to think. Enjoy the result of yesterday’s ‘Oh my God, 2010? Not already!’ moment. Happy New Year, everyone! May you break every resolution you never made.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Aah, life

Some people are so... nice. Nice doesn’t do them justice. Lovely isn’t quite right either, kind is a better descriptor. I was telling Mevandi and Amanpreet about the special provisions (i.e. extra time) I get for exams, and about how some high-ranking official type people decide on the amount of time at a board meeting each year. And the immediate response I got was a concerned comment along the lines of, “Oh, but what if they don’t give you enough time?”

This probably sounds really stupid, but that reaction meant so much to me. It wasn’t at all patronising, nor was it the knee-jerk reaction of ‘You get extra time? But but but, doesn’t that give you an unfair advantage?’ that I’ve come to dread and half believe myself. It was just the manifestation of a... desire, I suppose, to achieve fairness and equality of opportunity. And this was at a school where competitiveness is our version of sexual frustration and every precious mark is fought for and prized.

Aah, yes, camp. I nearly forgot about it. Camp was... interesting, sorta, although only very select bits of it were particularly noteworthy. Frolicking on the grass was one of them, probably one of the most carefree hours I’ve had in months.

Oh, and there was also the predictable game of Truth or Dare (Truth or truth) in the middle of the night, during which we half-ashamedly divulged our silly little secrets about love, sex, parents and career paths to one another, by the intermittent light of a torch. We really were typical teenage girls, just for that one night. It was actually quite fun, focusing on something other than ATARs and university degrees. The kind of thing people versify and consequently immortalise, frivolous as it is.

Well, back to nerddom... my first Year 12 Economics assessment task is over. And I think something revolutionary happened! I think, I developed a nice, solid, possibly productive study pattern to follow! True, I developed it about 24 hours before the assessment task commenced, but hey! Study pattern! Desperate times call for desperate measures, in this case pulling my act together. And yes, desperate times was a very apt description of the situation. We had 3 chapters of the textbook to study for the exam, I only read Chapter 3 the day beforehand.

Anyway, my pattern is the following: 1 hour of note making/studying, 15 minute break, 1 hour of work, 15 minute break, etc etc. So on Sunday, I set alarms on my phone so as not to be tempted out of my routine, and during periods of study, sustained myself with the thought that I’d be able to relax for 15 minutes after a while. Whenever something distracted me, some random thought or urge to do something, I forcibly ejected it from my mind and re-focused on the work I had to do. I set myself goals, eg summarise 20 pages within the hour, and rewards, eg during your break, you can have a chocolate. The goals were not always achieved, but just having them firmly rooted in my mind helped so much, and gave me a reason to work as efficiently as possible.

And it really did work! Or was that just my adrenaline working wonders...

Either way, it’s over and I don’t think I screwed it up too badly. And God it feels wonderful to be bludging like the other ¾ of the grade. Word games, trivia, parties, political discussions and scabbing merits off awesome Drama/English teachers, that’s what school should be about.

Graduation Assembly tomorrow. I’m actually almost looking forward to it! As the year has progressed, I seem to have become increasingly fond of school. Ironically, by the time I leave Year 12, I will probably have become attached to it. Really, really attached.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING ME!

That’s what it feels like, anyway. So I’m not allowed to say anything defamatory or inflammatory, and The Establishment will be all happy and friendly. Yay for euphemisms and untruths and suppression of freedom of speech!!!!! Still think you should create a new blog, Dorgo, even though you don’t read this. Create it under a pseudonym, like Cookie did! Then you can say whatever you like, about whomever you please! Doesn’t that sound fun?

Yeah, I’m somewhat upset. Well, it had to happen some time, although 3.5 upsettings in 1 day is a little rough, don’t ya think?

Tact. Honesty. Tact. Honesty. Tact honesty tact honesty tact honesty honesty. Honesty. Honesty wins, and I lose. *Sigh. I suppose that’s what you get for letting a very select group of people influence you...

Aaron, you’re a jerk and I hate you and you deserve to be abolished. Like an orgasm! Un-nonchalant enough for you?

Also, if anyone else reads this, besides my 3 fairly constants, it is not not not not true that Owen and I have managed to raise 7 grand in 4 months and are just getting, quote bonus money unquote, from the school. Idiots. You try raising 7 grand in 4 months.

Yeah, that’s it.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Bits and Pieces

Things of note that happened today:

  • Had ‘love’ written on her arm, by Ewy.

  • Was told to take up bodybuilding by her English teacher.

  • Completed the Computer Skills test in something like 23 minutes, had her condescending support teacher check her test for another 5 just to ensure she hadn’t accidentally missed a question, left her phone in the conference Room and had it returned by him during Drama. The conversation went something like this:
    Him: Where’s your phone? (Probably whilst brandishing it smugly)
    Me: Oh! Thanks. (Embarrassed)
    Him: *Laughs* It’s ok.
    Deva: Is he your father?
    Me: *Insulted* No! How could you say such a thing!

  • Was molested by Praween, it was adorable.

  • Assaulted Sean. With a fan.

  • Said something that, according to Sneha, was “quotable”. I merely pointed out that Owen rhymes with Bowen (or however you spell it!)



And on a more serious note... a couple of days ago we received our English Yearly marks. First of all, kudos to both Noor and Sneha for each getting an A! You deserved them, considering the amount of work you put in. But the responses of certain individuals left a lot to be desired.

Suffice to say, Sneha received a less than desirable mark for her other essay, and was berated by her teacher for it. ‘If you’d done what I told you to do, that could’ve been a 15!’ Something along those lines. Firstly, considering the fact that the other mark was a 13, I think encouragement was in order rather than disparaging remarks like that. It’s a teacher’s duty to be encouraging, to offset the horrid influence of parents. That’s my reasoning, anyway. Also, I’ll wager I spent far more time critiquing her essays than he did, and I’m happy enough with the outcome. True, if she did horribly (which she didn’t), it wouldn’t reflect badly on me, but maybe he should provide more constructive criticism instead of just... criticism.

Teachers, teachers, teachers. I’m probably being too critical myself, but within the past year I think I’ve seen the very best and the very worst, and it’s really given me perspective.

Update: I was just watching the news on some channel or other, and a particularly lengthy item featured the latest ‘thing’ in America, ‘man-gagement rings’. Pathetic. That’s commercial television for you.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

I have recently (i.e. within the past few hours) developed my own way of differentiating a friend from an acquaintance. IMO, it has nothing to do with shared interests, goals, beliefs, senses of humour, the ability to keep up a decent conversation, the frequency of contact, or how much you like/respect that person. Don’t get me wrong, I do believe those things are relevant, but I think what really matters is how you feel about interacting with them. A friend is someone to whom you can freely express your opinions, without fear of being censured. They might disagree with you, but you won’t be afraid of that.

Vaguely related, people can be so... bellicose sometimes, and it really upsets me. I simply do not see the point of being aggressive towards someone for expressing their opinion, particularly with regard to criticism. I’m sure I do it as well, but why must people become so caustic if someone disagrees with, criticises or in any way annoys/offends them? I’m not aiming this at anyone in particular, but a lot of people do it, including some of my friends. It’s really sad, because a lot of those who do it are those who champion freedom of thought, speech and expression, and they’re undermining their own ideals, seemingly without realising it. Come on guys, since when did a question like “Is he white?” warrant a diatribe against racism, small-mindedness and discrimination? Why must the doctrine of “freedom of thought” have, “as long as your thoughts don’t offend or marginalise one single person in the entire world”, appended to it? By instantly condemning someone for thinking homosexuality is wrong, are we really promoting understanding and intelligent thought?

And as for criticism, my God some people can be childishly oversensitive. If someone says something about you that you don’t necessarily agree with or like, perhaps take it with a little grace? If you genuinely think it’s unwarranted abuse, turning the other cheek now and then wouldn’t go astray either. Isn’t that better than degeneration into petty arguments? Often the outcome is even worse than that, particularly if the critic isn’t ready to fight back (I’m looking at you, Aaron) and cops a load from the person they weren’t trying to offend. I think it really is a particularly imperceptible form of bullying, and it’s quite disgusting. And there are so many people I could name who do it. So many. Half of them are friends (or, perhaps, acquaintances) of mine.

Hmmm... I wonder how many people will hate me for my opinions in one week’s time.

P.S: if you think you know to whom I’m referring, please don’t mention their names in a comment.

Saturday, October 31, 2009

Attention!

Argh, I seem to be a completely contradictory person, but I just can’t stand it! Attention, that is. Sometimes I crave it, I’m as much of an attention whore (albeit a subtler one) as Ms Mac accuses our Drama class of collectively being. But too much attention just drives me crazy, and I don’t really understand why. The constant dogging, the well-meaning(?) solicitude, yes I’m mainly referring to parents here... I hate it because it makes me feel obligated to give back in some way, when sometimes I just want to be left to my own devices. And by sometimes, I mean a lot of the time. And I guess it makes me feel guilty because they have no idea, and then sometimes I find myself thinking that they know exactly what they’re doing, but they know they can get away with it and still look like well-meaning individuals and... aaaah, raaaaant. But too much attention is worse than too little, because it makes me feel guilty as well as frustrated and trapped. Am I oversensitive? Perhaps, but maybe it’s just extremes that I hate. Isn’t that fair enough?

On a completely different note, yesterday I was reflecting upon how we’ve all changed since year 7. And I was really amazed to realise how much some people have matured, over the years. Some have become less judgmental, some are more cooperative and/or less oversensitive, some are just generally nicer to people. There were a lot of people I knew back in years 7 and 8, a lot of things that happened, a lot of attitudes that I didn’t like. And all of those things have changed so very much. Alongside myself, my actions and my attitudes, no doubt, although I’m not able to evaluate my persona with the same level of objectivity. I find it a bit disconcerting that I’m able to make such observations about my fellow classmates, I thought only mentors, parents and older siblings were capable of/prone to doing that. Still, it’s nice to see how our grade has panned out, so to speak.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

You know what I want to find? Or... who I want to find, rather. A person in our grade who isn’t disliked by anyone else in the grade. And the sad thing is, I don’t think such a person exists. I find it so frustrating when people dislike each other for the pettiest of reasons... I think it was Cynthia who brought up the same point the other day. Who cares if someone likes to talk to a certain teacher, or hates a certain movie, or can’t play a certain game, or wears their hair a certain way... I can’t believe such intelligent people still think in those terms.

Oh, and I’d also be interested to find this supposedly *hooooot* student teacher, the tall one everyone is harping on about... bet he’s unintelligent or an arrogant jerk or something. :D

And social dancing is over! Funny thing is, it was quite horrible, but I have a feeling I’ll kinda miss it... just a little bit. Not necessarily the blundering around with guys who were basically as clueless as I was (not mentioning any names), but possibly the simpler Samba. There was something vaguely... exhilarating about madly flinging oneself around an inner circle of partners, stumbling through the sweaty frenzy of movements, the awkward, inappropriate and clearly contrived intimacy... something crazy, primal almost. It wasn’t sexual or anything like that, I guess it was just interesting. And exhausting.

And now, time for some horrid Maths homework!