Curse of the Caret

It blinks. Keeps blinking even as it moves and leaves a trail of characters behind. It is a stalwart figure. It blinks with a purpose. It taunts too. Each wink is a promise of a coming word, an approaching thought... a hopeful insight. Whether or not an arrival comes, it still maintains a confident uprightness. It holds the upper hand without arrogance, just a simple understanding of its power.

I can't tell whether or not I like it or hate it. Do I like it because of its beholden promise? Do I appreciate that my hands provide it with at least some of the power it wields? Or do I despise its inability to communicate those ideas to me and assist me in my own attempts to communicate them myself?

Of course I miss the point. Its power is entirely my power and its silence is a sign of my own incapacity to wield that power. The curse is self-inflicted.

Time to lift that fucker.

To a modern day poet.

Getting me through work today. No skippin', just repeatin'.

RIP

Preach, Harvey Specter

I've recently finished rewatching the first season of Suits and thus was again exposed to the gem GIF'd above.

When anyone ever screws you over, have your little whinge about it, but then deal with it. Change, fight back, do whatever you have to do, but don't waste your time on lamentations and excuses. That's what petulant little kids do, not adults.

[Delayed Post] Defying the 'inevitable' - Post-holiday Euphoria

I've said it a thousand times and will say it again and again in future - I love the guys from The Buried Life.

As is evident from my earlier magnetic post (ha), I recently returned home from an incredible trip to Europe and have now been back for just over 2 weeks. What I've found in that time, and had slowly been coming to realise in the later days of my trip, was that I've somewhat successfully been able to build that life.

When we first joined our tour group in London, it did hit me and my friends that the group with which we were travelling were a good deal younger than us, two of us being over 30 and the other just under two years shy of it. We had some moments of wariness at first but they faded fairly quickly. As our Trip Leader pointed out when we sheepishly brought up our ages, it comes down to your attitude in the end, and she was right. It was entirely up to us whether we enjoyed our trip.

I've now been working at a university for almost a decade so to be honest, I've become quite accustomed to the atmosphere of young students (which made up a large proportion, if not the majority, of our fellow tour mates), breezily talking about nothing, airing their fears about the world or cockily shouting on about all the things they think they know and the change they will bring about. A lot of the time spent with our new mates felt just like that but it was one of our roommates who articulated the fact that from what she could tell, almost everyone on the tour, including the more cocksure and loud (and I would personally imagine them even more so), was a little lost, trying to figure out their lives, trying to decide who they were going to be, what they were going to do next and this made sense, particularly for the age group.

Being over 30 certainly doesn't mean you're not doing the exact same thing. I've many unanswered questions about where I'll end up and what decisions I need to make in order to get to wherever on Earth that will be, but I do think that the difference comes in your approach. Life is flux and after years of study, then work, then more attempted study alongside trying to hone whatever talents I think I may have, you realise you already have a life and every decision you make isn't the be all/end all of your existence. You learn to take things as they come and make the best decisions you can and just continue to do so.

Of course, the usual soaring highs and the dramatic lows don't necessarily go away, but the sense of having no direction fades considerably once you realise that at the end of the day, no matter what, you're ultimately heading somewhere. Whether you're following a step by step, year by year plan or simply just trying to make the best decisions you can as the need enters your life, you're still definitely headed somewhere and you're doing your best getting there. So long as you're trying to live your life the best you can every single day, you're headed somewhere and it's most likely wherever you're meant to be.

And when I got home, this was only confirmed. I know to a lot of the people on the trip, the escape from their lives was not only welcome, but one with which they desperately did not want to part. I initially thought I would feel the same, but then as the trip wore on, while I was still undoubtedly enjoying the hell out of all the places we saw, it was hitting me more and more that I only really wanted to put my life on hold for so long. I had things to go back to, people to come back to, a home to return to... I had a life and I realised how much I loved that life when I began to genuinely miss it at a time when I thought I would be reluctant to even come back. Then when I did come back? I was thrilled to be home. I was happy to see everyone - my family especially, but also my friends and my workmates. Hell, I was even happy to be back at work - something I most definitely did not expect when I first embarked on my holiday. My first week back was awesome and it felt so good to be home. It felt good to return to MY life.

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The quote above was the source of my new year's post and the rest, a mere mindpath of how I got there in the first place (and once again delayed by a likely bout of self-doubt. Or laziness).

To the guys in The Buried Life - I think I can cross this off my list.

Build a life I won't need a vacation from. 

Check.

"Settling is the ultimate lonely."

- superbly true words spoken by my friend, Rosie.  

In Lieu of Photos - a snapshot of my trip to Europe last year

These boots walked Auschwitz and Birkenau. They also made it out. I am therefore officially luckier than 43,525 people, many of whom’s shoes or boots remain there till this day. #inlieuofphotos #europe2014

The Common Sense Atheist on the Logical Christian Philosopher

'In this post I want to celebrate what Craig and I (currently) agree about. I do this for two reasons:

1. So you can correct me if you think I’m wrong.

2. So atheists can stop wasting time by disagreeing with Craig even when he’s right, and focus on where he’s wrong.'

Luke Muehlhauser on William Lane Craig

It's a bare snippet of what Muehlhauser has to say so I do suggest clicking and giving it a read, however alongside the points made, it's the spirit in which the post was written than I am so happy to share. Modern debate of any kind has only become more and more exhausting because people seem to have no interest whatsoever in actually listening to what the other sides have to say.

Sure, when you go into any debate or any argument, you enter into it carrying your own personal beliefs and convictions which will inevitably colour your response to whatever you're presented with, but too often debates descend into agenda bashing, name calling and outright childish denial of any possibility that those with whom you disagree may actually have, if not a point, but backing for what they're trying to say.

Hence it is more than refreshing when someone, as Muehlhauser has done above, is so willing to focus on where he and Craig stand on common ground so that they can finally stop wasting time on mindless disagreement and actually try to genuinely hash out the roots of their differences. It's not just better debate, it's an actual exercise in real respect, something sorely lacking in so many argument these days.

I've said it before and I'll say it again - I respect the respectful, wherever they may lie on the spectrum of belief and opinion. Cheers, Muehlhauser, from a Christian who respects you and our differences.

Bookfest 2015 - The Chapters So Far

So since my last book infused entry, I have strayed from my original list in a somewhat haphazard game of literary hopscotch. As it turns out, tackling three books at once is really not my forte (Rory Gilmore, I am not), particularly considering the trio I decided to take on included Hawking, Steinbeck and C. S. Lewis - yeah, so I decided to not just jump into the deep end but straight up nosedive into it. Admittedly, Steinbeck and Hawking had a strong start, but once I got into Lewis, the other two were left behind entirely. I finished The Screwtape Letters in a few days and only recently finished Grapes of Wrath after a massive Palahniuk interlude.

Hawking is sadly now sitting on my shelf. Clearly my affinity for physics, the notion of time and perception doesn't translate into as fluid an understanding as I would have liked. Yep, a nice little beating to my intellectual ego there, but I do intend to finish it this year if anything. Hopefully this comes with a finer dose of understanding in an area that only continues to floor my limited grasp of abstract and physical thought. This year, there are a good few more non-fiction titles on my list, books on philosophical history, logic and moral relativism, though I do know historically I slog that bit slower though these despite the fact that I find them fascinating. Sans story (or at least fictional story, I mean, they're all telling a story of some kind), my scholastically challenged brain immediately kicks into 'oh great, learning...' mode, similar to that which plagued me as a student where my appreciation of new information was shamefully nonexistent and left me as an adult in perpetual desire of further study but without the patience or attention span to follow through. Thanks fast food style information age!

Meanwhile, events-wise, A Night with Neil Gaiman was incredible. Up close, the man has a quietly dramatic presence that is so easy to get comfortable with. His languid tones and Fourplay's dark, off kilter melodies married together exquisitely and it made for a brilliant night in. The event having been sponsored by the Sydney Writers' Festival, I am seriously looking forward to May and the Sydney Writers' Festival rolling around again. I've begun sifting through the events and am again faced with the dilemma of having to pick and choose, although that's hardly a complaint. Either way, it's a definite one or two days I plan to take off work in May so here's to the literary cherry-picking.

Anyway, on to the titles!

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This book absolutely slayed me. Seriously, what a satirical masterpiece. The interesting thing about it is that despite the fact that the narrative revolves around a character that some will believe in and others wouldn't, it still succeeds as a great critique on human nature because the evils to which it refers are hardly mystical or mythical; things like greed, selfishness, violence and envy are very real aspects of our everyday lives and he drops so much indelible insight into their insidious nature while being humorous and entertaining as hell (pun embarrassingly unintended). I do highly recommend. 

In a complete 180 turn, could I recommend a book any less than Flowers In The Attic? What a horrendous read in every possible way. The story actually could have been quite compelling, but the writing style was vomit-inducing and soapy. I actually can't help calling it a Fifty Shades for the 70s and 80s - sensationalised, highly controversial yet so, so poorly executed you can't help wondering how publishers weren't embarrassed to be employed in its endorsement. The voice Andrews decides to use is clearly meant to be characteristic of a young girl telling a story, but it only comes across as infantile and though I enjoy my emphatic characters (and am admittedly guilty of peppering my more enthusiastic texts with these), the use of exclamations in almost! Every! Sentence! is just tiring. 

[That being said, if I choose to compare it to the bare 40-50 pages through which I was able to slog in Fifty Shades, at the very, very least, Flowers didn't read like a 12 year-old's sad fanfic although this may have had more to do with the fact that fanfiction and its more poorly skilled authors weren't so widely accessible without the internet back then.] 

I have a sneaking suspicion there was a book between Fight Club and Survivor - unless I'm thinking of Guts (read it, I dare you), which I do not count, but purely because it is a short, not because it isn't horrifically brilliant - nevertheless, my attempts at threes seems to shine nicely in my immersion into Palahniuk this year. It doesn't do each book justice that I'm deciding to review them all in one go but for the sake of space and time, I can still try to comment on Palahniuk's uniquely brash and violently graphic style which is well encompassed in all three books. Personally, I found all three quite the experience. Contextually, the least interesting of the three to me was Choke, about a sex-addicted con artist who 'chokes' people out of their money. However as my introduction to Palahniuk, it served well to familiarise me with his quite sharp ability to tear apart the fabric of modern society, something he does disturbingly well in all three books. In Fight Club, I was unsurprised by my perverse enjoyment of the concept of violent self-life-control. We all have a dark side and Fight Club sunk itself cozily into that part of me that could only begin to dream of fighting pain with the furthest reaches of pain itself. I do believe the book earns its notoriety and popularity well as it was a hell of a read from start to finish. I was however surprised to find that I enjoyed Survivor the most and this likely has a lot to do with my own personal religious leanings as the story follows the last ditch attempt for the final survivor of a religious cult to tell his own tale in the most audience grabbing way possible. The book's commentary on religion, modern attention and the constant need for an audience is on point and brutal as is Palahniuk's way and made for a thought provoking read. One thing I did find of interest which may sound like a criticism but is in fact sheer observation, nothing more, is that his main characters are decidedly passive. They do little to nothing to execute change and seem to just let things happen to them, despite their own ruminations about a need to change, escape or fight. That being said, I think this aspect only serves to heighten the air of helplessness that tinges each book - the notion of being trapped, whether it be within society's strangling norms or one's upbringing or one's own rampant inability. I personally found that this only enhanced the literary atmosphere of each story and I genuinely can't imagine the characters being any different and it all having the same effect which I think acts as a further testament to Palahniuk's extraordinary ability to capture and critique.

Despite having another Palahniuk book at the ready, I voluntarily took a break from the hypnotic gloom and decided to dive back into another area of struggle with Steinbeck. Candidly, this book is fucking beautiful. Its ability to draw me so deeply and poetically into the struggle of not just the one family, but an entire era of change and uncertainty and anger left me in awe. As I mentioned in the last reading entry, the first chapter alone sculpted an emotional landscape that would only continue to stun me as I kept reading. The Grapes of Wrath actually now stands as one my favourite titles for a book because it is perfect. Tempting though it is to quote Nelson Muntz ('here's the grapes... and here's the wrath!), Steinbeck's portrayal of a simmering societal rage that only feeds and mutates itself into a frenzy of paranoia and fear still manages to be almost hauntingly beautiful. I am aware that stream of consciousness is not everyone's cup of tea, but that said, I find few other narrative styles have the same power to captivate by sheer immersion. A lack of physical directive helps sweep you along in the emotion which, though abstract, is still paradoxically very, very real and I love that. Next move - look up more Steinbeck.
[Yep, another American author.  Quite honestly, the last decade has almost been like a revolt from my teen years of almost exclusively British literature. Thankfully, I happily enjoy both.]

This story was not what I expected at all. I frankly knew nothing whatsoever about Margaret Atwood and thus had no clue she wrote dystopian tales or science fiction. Quite unjustly, I was expecting a romantic drama and while there were of course aspects of that in this book, it was nothing to the frighteningly painted world of Gilead where the Handmaid resides as a sheer governmental breeding tool. It is the ultimate nightmare for a woman of any kind of conviction where each woman has been assigned a life sentence of inescapable monotony underlain with the danger of the Eyes and told through the eyes of the Handmaid. Despite a personally acquired distaste for the use of flashback, I thought Atwood used it effectively in the story allowing the ability to slowly piece the dark history together while walking through the Handmaid's rigid daily life. It was through study of this book that I came across the term, 'speculative fiction' which serves as a contrast to 'science fiction' and I think the former a decent descriptor of The Handmaid's Tale. There is nothing particularly scientifically fantastic in the story, it simply takes us through a genuinely scary 'what if' and this hit me because something that has always struck me about societies in collapse is how quickly it can happen. One year, people in places like Ukraine, Syria, Iran - hell, countless countries - were living seemingly normal, civilised lives and the next? Hell. This story constantly made a point of the old normality having disappeared so swiftly and easily into the new horror and that notion legitimately scares me. All in all, a compelling if quietly terrifying read that I do recommend.

Now reading; 

I have not yet gotten too far into the book, but I am already happily ensconced in the ubiquitous Eugenides style that I love.

Still to come (just to name a few from the pile):

Yep, shamefully, have still not read these since the last entry, however it has occurred to me that this last day of the Easter break might be a fabulous opportunity. 

And eventually:

Eventually...

On the notion of Belief: Do Science and Religion really have to be incompatible?

'Science and religion are based on different aspects of human experience. In science, explanations must be based on evidence drawn from examining the natural world. Scientifically based observations or experiments that conflict with an explanation eventually must lead to modification or even abandonment of that explanation. Religious faith, in contrast, does not depend only on empirical evidence, is not necessarily modified in the face of conflicting evidence, and typically involves supernatural forces or entities. Because they are not a part of nature, supernatural entities cannot be investigated by science. In this sense, science and religion are separate and address aspects of human understanding in different ways. Attempts to pit science and religion against each other create controversy where none needs to exist.'

The National Academy of Sciences on the compatibility between science and religion

I do encourage everyone to read the rest of that page linked above.

Earlier today, the I Fucking Love Science (IFLS) FB page posted a link about what happens to you if you happened to give up sugar for Lent. I'm always somewhat wary of seeing links like this on IFLS, not because I'm not religious, quite the opposite, but because I've become accustomed to the hostility and mindless bashing that comes with even remotely daring to have the notions of both science and religion in the same vicinity. I have seen it before when IFLS linked to an article talking about the potential discovery of the birthplace of Jesus. Now I understand that IFLS and any similar sites are not The History Channel or otherwise historically informative, but when I see comments like, 'Why are you reporting on a myth', I am filled with a very quiet but very real fury (look up the history for two seconds, honestly). On today's post about sugar addiction that dared to mention Lent, some choice comments included, 'If you practise Lent, there's already something wrong with your head' and 'do people who fucking love science observe Lent?'.

Clearly that first comment is far more incendiary than the second which, outside of my own bias and doubt, could have been genuinely meant. In that case, I will answer it with a resounding yes. Some people who fucking love science actually observe Lent because they are both scientists and Catholics or Christians. In fact, growing up, the majority of priests I knew were scholars in science, most notably physics. Even now, some of my friends who are scientists and engineers are also very devout Catholics who have no problem pursuing science and practising their faith at the same time. Bearing further mention are the countless Christian or Catholic scientists who have contributed so significantly to our modern understanding of the world. How many people know who Georges Lemaitre, Angelo Secchi or Roger Bacon are? Look them up.

[On a personal note, I am a happily practising Catholic with a Bachelor of Science in Psychology (although one who admittedly chose not to pursue it as a career but professionally assists others who have) who agrees wholeheartedly with the use of the scientific method to learn more about the world around us. Any qualms I may have with scientific pursuit usually fall under the umbrella of scientific ethics (an area into which I undertook postgraduate study), often in the area of bioethics (eg. cloning), but such areas are generally contentious and without medical or scientific consensus so I'm far from alone on that count, religious or not.]

Essentially, what is upsetting and angering about comments that immediately jump on the science and religion can't coexist is that these days, some such declarations (not all, I'm sure, but many) are made without having actually attempted to read or research the idea and appear to have become Pop Fact, much like the notion that religion has caused the most wars (again, fury) despite the fact that according to recorded history, only 123 out of 1763 wars and less than 2% of all people killed in warfare have been classified as religiously based, according to the Encyclopedia of Wars by Phillips and Axelrod. Yet, people seem more than willing to blindly accept that religion is a bigger source of evil than outright human greed and territorial conquest and the need for power and control.

Also, from experience, a lot of people who seem to 'love' science, have no damn clue what it actually is. As a Psych student, I was often told by people I knew in the hard sciences that 'Psych is not a science' despite the fact that the method by which I spent a degree being taught to study observable human behaviour was most definitely the scientific method and the statistical analysis that followed (which I have gladly left behind) was engaged to ensure we were obtaining results as statistically significant as possible. We didn't do that shit for fun, we were trying to see if the variables we had manipulated in order to test our hypotheses were actually making a real difference - just like people do in labs. Pardon us for trying to scientifically research something that is intangible and therefore more difficult to assess. To this day, I say those studying cognitive psychology are some of the most creative people I've ever encountered. Being able to construct experiments to test and observe memory? Insanely imaginative and clever.

But I digress. As the statement made above by the Academy of Sciences points out, scientific reason and faith and belief look at things from completely different angles and ultimately, that's how you want to view the world - from as many angles as possible. Considering we live in an age obsessed with pluralistic thought and perspective, it's odd that people are then only willing to engage in understanding the world via one very often flawed means. When journalists investigate a story, attacking it from just the one side or the one perspective, it begs questions of bias, an agenda and a lack of objectivity. Why is it suddenly completely objective to stand by science and nothing else?

I think what people get confused is scientific fact versus scientific discovery and possibility. More likely than not, what many people take on board as scientific 'fact' is nothing more than the replicated results of studies that provide evidence for particular conclusions to be drawn. These are not facts, they are findings that potentially support hypotheses and once disproven or falsified, will be altered. As an undergrad science student, I was trained to write, '... there is evidence to suggest...' ad nauseum. Even in areas of more solid and tangible results, for example, biological or medical discoveries and treatments, there are only so many treatments, medications and therapies that work 100% of the time. As a sufferer of a number of chronic medical conditions, I can at least personally attest to the fact that many treatments that have worked on many past patients have not been able to work on me and I am not alone in that at all. When it comes to science, we do what we can with the knowledge that we have and still test what works and what doesn't. The rest, we take on almost as a form of faith, eg. I have never seen these medical results in others for myself, but I have taken it on faith that the medical community backing these assertions aren't simply lying to me. In that same spirit, I have never been to space, seen the moon's surface for myself or seen the Red Spot on Jupiter with my own eyes, but I have faith and trust in those astrophysicists who have done the research for me.

Now, if someone has no belief or has chosen not to believe in the supernatural (I don't, however, tend to adhere to the notion that anyone chooses what they believe. While specific beliefs can be altered, belief in itself is simply that. You believe something or you don't), then fine, if you have no room for any form of spirituality in your life or are happy in the notion that biological or neurological processes or quantum mechanics are enough explanation for the more intangible aspects of life, then by all means, that is absolutely your call. This does not, however, give you the authority to declare as fact beyond a shadow of a doubt, that those who do believe in a supernatural aspect of the world are either dead wrong and intellectually pitiable because in some cases, the likelihood will be that those people have put a lot more thought into it because that which is intangible bears far more need for thought by nature of its invisibility.

I do understand that there are people out there who have thoughtlessly decided to follow one belief system or another, among them Catholics and Christians, however, this type of believer is not strictly bound within the arena of religious faith. There are blind adherents to scientists, philosophers, hell, nowadays, even celebrities (I'm looking at you, Jenny McCarthy, incidental anti-vax champion. More fury).

Rather than demonise, however, as I've always stood by the notion that everyone believes what they do for a reason, whatever reasons they may be, at the end of the day, by all means, disagree, mock, even, if you really must, but maybe once in a while, instead of burrowing comfortably in your warren of disbelief/belief, ask someone you just do not understand - why?

This is one of my favourite ever opening paragraphs in a Cracked article. Gold.

'Great movies tend to collect in the pool of pop culture's subconscious, available to be referenced and paid homage to for years to come. And, in some cases, identifiable elements of them will become more prevalent than the movies themselves. You don't have to see The Godfather to know that a guy made some really sweet offers in it. Charles Foster Kane was super fucking into his sled. Arnold Schwarzeneggar will be back, in a chopper, sans tumor.'

6 Classic Movies that are Famous for the Wrong Thing

New Year, New Reads

Hooked on phonics is one way you could describe me, clearly, and what's a new year without a new list of great reads to come? Already, I have embarked on a novel (punny, huh?) approach to my own personal reading - 3 books at once: 

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Above is the one into which I have most delved thus far and I am loving it. Clearly, I have an affinity for American authors and Faulkner's stream of southern consciousness style has primed me for getting completely engrossed in Steinbeck's tale of landowners evicted from their homes and their resulting struggle to establish a whole new life. So far, I am indeed in love.

I'm a chapter in, having always wanted to read it and having never summoned the guts till now. So far, I am absolutely fascinated, however my one lamentation is that my powers of retention are so, so poor. I rejoice at being able to fathom the concepts he is describing and I weep at the fact that the minute I put the book down, they pour out into the (disproved) ether. Rehearsal and retention - my two weakest muscles. I hope I can make this book the beginning of a good workout for them this year.  

As yet, unstarted, however I am very, very excited. Another book I've been wanting to read for a very long time, although just never got around to it. All who know me know I believe in the existence of an entity of real evil and though I'm fully aware these letters are entirely fictional, I look forward to the study of the nature of good, evil and humanity that will undoubtedly flow from its pages.

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This early literary burst to the year can be credited to the lovely lady at the secondhand book store in Epping and my very own brother. The Grapes of Wrath, I found at Epping, among a pile of other titles I'm massively looking forward to (including Middlesex! Finally! Eugenides, I adore you).

The triple book score however can be attributed to my brother's fantastic little library (by which I mean big bag o' books) from which I obtained A Brief History Of Time and The Screwtape Letters. I recently Instagrammed a photo of my little haul from his books which included the latter two and a few more studies and histories of philosophy, logic as well as the SAS Survival Guide. LOVE having siblings who read a variety of books outside of my own.

Ah yes! I very nearly forgot the Sandman graphic novels on loan to me from my workmate, Elena!

I finally read Gaiman last year and loved him and I know this particular series of works is highly acclaimed so I really can't wait to see what all the fuss is about, especially as I haven't actually read a graphic novel since Watchmen. I definitely cannot wait for our night with Neil Gaiman coming up at the end of the month. I want to see this talented man in action!

So here's to the new worlds, insights and characters that await me in 2015 - hook me up, phonics, let's do this :)

A very, very true article I read and wanted to share...

Plane crashes, terrorism, random violence - new realities amid our relative security 

by Waleed Aly

From the article:

'Here's the thing: in our streets, in our bank accounts and in the air, we in Australia lead about the safest, most secure lives of any people. Ever. Our real income is up and the road toll is down (the lowest since 1945, by the way). We live without any genuine prospect of political strife. We're not about to be invaded or bombed with nuclear weapons – our most feared enemies have knives and guns, not armies in tanks. We're not likely to be decimated by some disease or virus – Ebola or otherwise. Yes we have problems, but they're the kind most of our species could only have dreamed of having. And yet that's so easy to forget because there's this continuous, churning fear.

Our mortal selves aren't under threat, here. But the myths we've built about ourselves very much are. The myth that our addiction to alcohol is innocently, endearingly larrikin, for example. Or that the problems of the world – like Russia's incursion into Ukraine or the disaster of Iraq and Syria – have no call on us and simply don't raise their heads in Sydney or Paris. Indeed the myth – that incidentally underscores how cheerfully we'll slash foreign aid – that we can set ourselves apart as (largely uninterested) onlookers: that the world is a sideshow to which we'll occasionally buy a ticket, but not our society.'

It has certainly been a hell of a year.

As I've already had my rant about Islamophobia, I'm not going to repeat myself on the matter. What with Martin Place, Charlie Hebdo, the continuing horror in Nigeria (which, if magnitude were measured by media coverage, one would assume only involved a handful of victims as opposed to the hundreds more people and the ongoing nature of the onslaught), alongside the sheer reach of news nowadays, Islam has never had a higher profile. 

{{ If anything, as always, what follows these sorts of events is a pretty decent display of human nature's extremities - those calling for the death of all Muslims, beating their chests about how these attacks prove without a shadow of a doubt that all Islam is the root of evil, etc, etc. Then you have those who immediately jump to the defence of all Muslims (not a bad thing) and attack those who would dare to say anything potentially critical and citing agendas left, right and centre, without a glance at the victims and the perpetrators. }}

Ultimately, however, it can't be denied that our existence down here in Australia could not be more sanitised - whether it be by our sheer historical youth (something only made more glaringly clear on my recent trip to Europe) or our cultural propriety, though we certainly bear scars from the inevitably deep wounds endured by any colonised country with an indigenous population, as the article stated, we are a country neither plagued by real famine, violent social upheaval or any kind of real threat - or even experience - of invasion. Though our freedoms are flawed, one could argue that that is more to do with the very flawed nature of freedom itself as opposed to our country actively oppressing us in ways that could ever begin to compare with places like North Korea or Russia.   

In terms of our exposure to active bouts of violence or even visual displays of real carnage, our news coverage is clearly censored or otherwise plastered with warnings of 'graphic images'. We barely see real live active horror onscreen, let alone in real life. Compare this to Filipino news where, when I watched it for the very first time, they were covering a story about a road accident and as the camera panned over the scene, I watched mindlessly for a few seconds before having to blink and exclaim, 'Is that a dead body? Is that the guy right there? Oh my gosh!' The dead man was clearly there on the screen, still, mangled, bloody and completely uncensored. My eyes, so much more accustomed to footage of fully zipped gurneys or camera shots aiming just that inch over from accidents courtesy of Australian news, were wide with shock and horror. And that was from a news report. Of a road accident. 

The next news item was actually worse - a case of escalated road rage in a country not only in possession of guns, but hot and high temperatures. The images in my memory are somewhat fuzzy, but the most outstandingly clear image is of the men actively shooting at each other at surprisingly close range, protected only by ducking behind their vehicle doors. Again, I was shocked. Although again, this was still just footage of a crazy road rage incident. 

Essentially, though the media insists on telling us that we are becoming desensitised to violence and gore in society, this doesn't include one very particular form of desensitisation - the kind that comes with actual personal experience. Outside of those who have come from countries filled with turmoil or those who have travelled to fight, work or live in such countries, the most people down here have had to endure are occasional bouts. 

This is not to diminish these events as real, shocking and genuinely frightening events - to this day, thanks to Wade Frankum and his shooting at Strathfield Plaza in 1991, 23 years ago, though it has weakened significantly over the years, I still experience hesitance when thinking of going there. For years, it made me wary of Strathfield in general. Sure, you could blame my childish naivete for such fears but even now, at 32, some of it still remains. After 23 years. Hell, 18 years after the fact, the words, 'Port Arthur' are still kind of chilling, all thanks to Martin Bryant. 

But at the end of the day, a large part of why these incidents are so shocking is because they still stand out as relatively rare. We compare ourselves to places like America and we feel secure in the fact that that stuff just doesn't happen here. Australia's last high profile hostage taking was in 1984, 30 years ago (though there have been a few incidents in between, it is still a very small number over a 30 year spread). Compared to the number of reported shootings in the US alone, we're doing a lot better. These incidents are rare, which adds to their level of horror. 

Whereas in other parts of the world, this sort of terror is a way of life. Syria, Iraq and Nigeria could not stand out more right now. Or how about Afghanistan, Pakistan, or Eastern Ukraine, just to name a couple more. In places like these, the possibility of raids, kidnappings and straight up slaughter is actually a part of every day living. 

Life is nothing at all like that here in Australia. Not one bit. And true, this has led to the degree of separation many down under feel from the rest of the world's woes. And true, this sense of distance from those harsher realities was shaken, a lot, on December 15 last year as we all watched as those hostages stood with their arms raised against the windows of the Lindt Cafe in Martin Place. And truly, it all did not feel like something that belonged here in Sydney, least of all at Martin Place in the Lindt Cafe, but watching it unfold, the myth to which Aly refers took a solid beating.

Now the bigger, more widely (if subconsciously) perpetuated myth that needs busting? That events of any kinds like these belong anywhere.

2015, it is on!

One of the last pics taken of me in 2014 courtesy of @jenifarrrrr - NYE 14/15 and wearing my favourite kind of flowers - the fake kind!

2015 has already been both turbulent but still incredible... and it's barely Day 3. 2014 (worldly horrors aside) was a blast; I watched some of my very favourite people find love, get engaged, get married, have their first/second kids and achieve some other freaking amazing lifelong career dreams. In the meantime, I too was able to not only revive some of my greatest loves (particularly writing, music and drawing) and share them (leading to one of the most insanely awesome and unforgettable moments EVER), make some beautiful, beautiful friends, as well as live out one of my longest standing dreams in finally making it to Europe, but in doing all that also realised I had been able to fulfil a buried life goal - I've built a life I neither need nor want a vacation from making any such thing a lifelong bonus. That life is flawed, full of pitfalls and most definitely begging for improvement, but it is mine and I couldn't love it more, proverbial warts and all. Whatever this year is or isn't, it will be just as awesome if only for that.

Bring it the fuck on, 2015.

Mari Madrid speaks to me...

As someone really, really close to a lot of people who put a high value on make up and non-surgical cosmetic enhancement, believe me I understand that some of those different folks' strokes with which I just cannot relate all have their own merit, particularly for those who approach it from an artistic and skillful rather than a purely cosmetic perspective. Furthermore, I understand that enhancement isn't the worst thing. Makeup can genuinely enhance facial beauty without being so grossly deceitful and that is a positive thing.

But at the end of the day, everything that Mari wrote in the post above is exactly how I feel about it all. I don't personally wear makeup unless I have to (read: weddings) and it was literally just in this last week that I began wearing lipstick to work - if you could even call it that considering I realised that in contrast to my friends' advice to 'put on more!', I actually genuinely preferred just that little dusting of colour on my lips to give my face a little bit more life and so dab a little on. That is more than enough.

As someone whose grown up with an ailment that, for years, was grossly apparent on my face and my body and has since left traces, scars and bruises that will now be lifelong friends, while not always being entirely happy with how I look thanks to the wonderfully human trait of vanity, I have grown to appreciate that what people see is indeed what they get, at the very, very least in terms of how I look. There are no surprises, there is no filter, no hiding behind a mask - there is simply me. I feel an abject horror of those women who look like completely different people without makeup on and I am unabashedly glad that I will never be one of them and feel that desperate need to hide my actual self.

It also means that the mantra with which I grew up - it's what's on the inside that counts - has only been strengthened. Looks can always deceive and in the end, my focus for personal improvement will always aim itself more heavily on my character over my appearance and I do my best to consider others the same way, still often needing to battle the more superficially human nature by which I judge people based on how they look, but trying nonetheless.

And you know, were I to take it further, each mark and scar is essentially a part of who I am and what I've been through and continue to live with. They are a part of my story which makes me, me. Considering my relative personal transparency (I'll pretty much talk about anything, with anyone, within general propriety of course), there then exists some form of cohesion between how I approach the way I look and my actual personal character.

But there I drift into douchey territory so I'll pull back.

What it comes down to? Aside from essentially trying to look nice, neat and presentable, I'm happy to face the world with my actual face. I'm comfortable in my own skin (well, for the most part... cheers, eczema) and feel very little need to abide by a standard of physical image that will never, ever be inclusive of all. While I would love it if this wouldn't bring with it odd looks and often grossly inconsiderate criticism, to each their own. I've nothing to hide and I'm happier being who I am and not who others want me to be.

My Trip to Europe! In magnet form...

Having now returned home after an incredible 5 weeks away in Europe, I am quite happily settling back into the swing of the life I put on hold, hiccups and all - my jetlag is hitting me around 6pm every night like clockwork since I got back; I've returned to work a day before the financial shutdown deadline so buckling down and getting onto invoices and reimbursements now that my head's wrapped around just what the hell else has been happening; my skin cannot figure out what has happened to the weather now that I've come home to temperatures 10 times that which I'd been enduring in Europa, so it's in a state of mad rebellion and I'm still battling coughs and wheezes from the cold I developed while away, my lungs also not entirely happy to be back in good ol' humidly hyperallergenic Sydney - but those things aside, I'm most definitely relishing being back in my own home and my own bed and my own city, reuniting with my own life. 

I have a few thousand photos I need to sort through but for now, instead of waiting till that's done, I thought I'd at least get up my magnet collection - one from each city, barring Dresden (shame). 35 days, 18 cities and loved every second of it. 

Now, shall it be forever immortalized on my fridge.

On the Church and Galileo - it's time the same old myths were put to rest.

• Further Reading:

  An Atheist's Take on Galileo and The Church - Tim O'Neill via Quora

  
  

  '@Mike

  Another routinely perpetuated falsehood.

  In fact, the matter was settled in 1741 when Benedict XIV granted Imprimatur to the ‘Complete Works of Galileo.’

  Geocentrism was not only a church-held. The accepted view among ALL scientists was that of Aristotelian geocentrism - not Copernican heliocentrism.

  Galileo privately belittled his scientific peers nevertheless refraining from publishing confirmation of his theory (Copernicus' theory actually), not fearing censure from the Church - but public ridicule from his scientific peers.

  He admitted he could not prove heliocentrism using the scientific standards of his day i.e he could not disprove the associated theory of parallax movement of the stars in relation to heliocentrism - critical for acceptance.

  Pope UrbanVIII cautioned him not to promote geocentrism as absolute scientific truth but to present arguments for and against. He refused putting it forward as absolute - with no conclusive evidence. He then launched into an attack on scripture to help his cause – which he knew nothing about and which was a church responsibility.

  Cardinal Bellarmine’s 1615 letter to Galilleo stated the Church’s position:

  a) It was perfectly acceptable to maintain Copernicanism as a *working* hypothesis;
  b) If real proof existed, he should still proceed with great circumspection.

  Pius VII in 1822, declared Copernicanism as a fact – notwithstanding that the Ptolemian-Aristotelian objection remained undetermined until 1838 when Friedrich Bessel finally succeeded in showing the parallax of Star 61 Cygni.

  Pope Paul VI in 1979, directed the Pontifical Academy of Sciences to settle the ongoing lies and misrepresentations about the Church once and for all with an Academy report on the matter.

  One concession – the CC is never in a hurry. Their report was finalised in 1992 by Benedict XVI (Cardinal) precisely in order to put to rest ongoing erroneous claims like yours.

  Commenter

  Java

   

  Location

  Brisbane

   

  Date and time

  October 16, 2014, 2:31PM'

  
  

Unearthing old loves...

I HEART NUJABES

RIP

An odd little hiccup of memory...

The awesome thing about memory is its ability to let you get thrown into a decades long, to-and-fro mental journey in just a couple of eye blinks.

A link via a friend's Facebook led me to Buzzfeed, one of the currents reigning in online nostalgic warranty, and an article on random facts that would 'shock anyone who grew up in Australia'. As one certainly of that number, I embarked on a quick skim and enjoyed the jolts of memory like remembering Benita Collings (my all-time favourite Play School star), Cheez TV (apparently the first Aussie TV show to have a website which is pretty trippy in itself, the irritatingly catchy theme immediately sounded in my mind's ear upon sight of the words) and the very real surprise that the Bugalugs Bum Thief was written by Tim Winton (the filmy memory of all those bum-less characters is still dancing before my eyes). 

Then I read that the theme to Bananas in Pyjamas was originally sung by Monica Trapaga and I suddenly heard a (somewhat cloudy) nasal, high-pitched voice gleefully squealing that name in my ear. I had to stop a second before I remembered a fellow hospital-mate from my first teenage stint at the Children's Hospital in Westmead, back in year 9 (holy crap, 1997, way to thrust yourself back into my world so abruptly). 

The bits and pieces in my head, currently attempting to knock themselves together into a picture? Light brown hair, tied up in a ponytail, glasses and a gigglesome grin, freckles and a somewhat wide set face... and rather vaguely, the name, Lauren, although I can no longer be sure if that was her name or if that was the name of one of my other ward-mates. Nope, I think Lauren was the girl I'm thinking of. Unlike many of the other girls in the ward, several of whom were suffering from eating disorders, she had a central line (for what, I never knew... at the time, I actually thought it was a condition unto itself) but her most definitely distinctive feature was her voice. Kind of thickly dopey with that little nasal edge. 

"Monica Trapaga!" She was jittery, almost as though her skin were a wetsuit she had to shrug off as quickly as possible, her eyes looking even bigger than usual behind her glasses and her 'r' teetering on that thin line between r's and w's. "Monica Trapaga!"

Simone and I only looked at her in confusion before I finally ventured to ask, "What about her?" 

"She's here! I have to meet her!"

The memory kind of seeps out of me after that point but her voice now rings loud and clear. I remember Simone, my roommate, and I finding this pretty amusing - I mean, a 15 year old getting this excited about Monica Trapaga? Still, this ethereal shot through the decades was far from unpleasant and seems to have uprooted some other mental offshoots along with it - my roommate and us ruminating over Dolly and Girlfriend mags, the TV that could move between the ward rooms and the attached VCR and Nintendo 64 on which I first played MarioKart and Mario 64, the other kids in the ward wanting to borrow the videos I had brought with me, particularly Romeo + Juliet... funnily enough, the very last memory to hit me (for now, anyway) is that of why I was there in the first place. All those dressings and creams all somehow seem secondary to just good ol' life in Wade Ward.

Not something I would have wished back then, considering I've had more photos taken of me in the last 7 years than I've ever had over the course of my life and prior to that, having them taken was among my least favourite activities (seriously, it's only in recent years that I've genuinely figured out how to smile), but it's a shame I have no photos of that time. The memory is all well and good, but it would be nice to have some solid images in my head as opposed to the cloud people and hospital rooms and corridors currently dancing about up there. 

undergroundnewyorkpubliclibrary.com and more booktalk

I literally just found out about this website and I am in love. These are my people.

A choice picture - (linked but unembedded out of respect to Ourit Ben-Haim of whom I am now officially a fan) a commuter reading the autobiographical graphic novel Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood by Marjane Satrapi, a copy of which I will hopefully soon acquire.

The movie based on the story and the illustrations is incredible and quite spellbinding. I highly recommend it, not just for Marjane's story, but also if you know nothing of Iran's recent past history and how completely different it was from the country it is now.

Also spotted amongst the underground that I hope to add to my reading list/library:

Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? And Other Concerns by Mindy Kaling
On The Road by Jack Kerouac
Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut
Blueprints of the Afterlife by Ryan Boudinot
The Metamorphosis and Other Stories by Franz Kafka

Most pleasant surprise?

Rainbow Valley by L.M. Montgomery - one of the books from my favourite childhood series.

And while we're on the subject of books, my 2014 reading list has grown:

Currently reading 

(and rather desperate to finish so I may finally part company with Patrick Bateman and his obsessive 80s New York materialism and brutally depraved psychopathy):

Upcoming:

Must purchase/borrow/steal/otherwise gain the ability to read (apart from those seen on unypl above):

Recently Finished:

The Woman in White, apparently considered a 'sensationalist' novel in its time was an unexpected and exciting read. You wouldn't imagine that such old fashioned and therefore elegantly dense and descriptive prose could keep you so well suspended by the story, but Wilkie Collins did just that. I was hooked from beginning to end and almost sad to be done with the world and the characters. The multiple character narrative especially made for an unconventionally richer journey through events and the voices of each character were distinctly interesting and appealing. As the copy I had was borrowed, it is now cemented on my purchase list. Pure story, through and through.

Gone Girl began as a slow burn for me. Sure, I wanted to know what had happened and how the story would eventually twist, but my initial reactions to the 'Gone Girl' and to the writing were somewhat unimpressed - although this could partly be blamed on the hype leading up to my finally reading. A few chapters further finally dug themselves in and in revealing what she does of our missing heroine, Gillian Flynn makes some sharply insightful commentary about the modern world and how our characters have ultimately been shaped, nay produced, by the saturation of our lives by the media. Flynn's background as an entertainment writer shows up often, but depending on your tastes (or whether or not you were just reading a 19th Century Mystery novel *cough*), this only more effectively throws us into that world of modern make-believe melding with the turmoil of being an adult and trying to figure out how to grow the fuck up. A surprisingly helpful pre-cursor to my reading American Psycho immediately after (but still nowhere in its league - a good thing), I do recommend it and I dare say, you will either really enjoy it or you will find it utterly ridiculous. Both viewpoints are obviously completely valid.

Islamophobia: more mindless generalistic demonisation of religion

Over the last week, the two videos below have been all over my Facebook, Twitter and news feeds. Both tackle the question of Islam and Islamophobia and the impact generalisation has on how people view Islam. I finally got to watch them today and, well, let's be honest, I love watching spirited debate and both delivered, just in very different ways.

'Criticize the person doing it, not the [country]'

It is odd to find myself potentially siding with Bill Maher because in general, I've never liked the man. I'm not a fan of his smug, sarcastic brand of commentary and his 'documentary', Religulous, while certainly entertaining, could hardly have been called objective and the fact that it is now treated as a factual representation of all (not some, all) religious folk by some still makes my blood boil. 

However, at the beginning of the video, particularly in comparison to Ben Affleck heatedly spluttering his disgust for their views, it was difficult not to see Maher and Harris' calm reiteration of the statistics as more reasonable. It wasn't until further on in the video I was able to see what Affleck was trying to say underneath his irritation and that, I believe, is the same point that Reza Aslan was far more eloquently able to make in the next video.

'To say that 'Muslim countries' as though Pakistan and Turkey are the same, as though Indonesia and Saudi Arabia are the same... is stupid.'

His point was so very clear and yet Camerota insisted on using the term, 'Muslim countries' as though Aslan hadn't already pointed out that the term was invalid about 5 times. Within the first few minutes, he succinctly points out that the examples that Maher was using to criticise Islam are in fact not representative so much of the religion as they are of the countries in which they are practised. I understand the point that Maher and Lemon and Camerota were trying to make about the statistics of mainstream Muslim belief and their own belief that this is indicative of a faith that ultimately promotes violence at its core and not just in its extremes, however it still doesn't change the fact that they cannot use that to justify a broad judgement of all or even most of who identify as Muslim - and yet they continue to do so. 

People say statistics don't lie. I don't imagine they do, but they certainly don't always tell the whole truth. If anything, the picture they end up painting more closely resembles an incomplete puzzle than a crisp and clear photo of reality. 

People and statistics are two separate entities and one thing I've grown to hate is one being mistaken for the other. They are indicative of either what has happened or what people think but they don't determine everything. I don't care if say, for example, a lower socio-economic area in society has a statistically higher rate of crime, unemployment or teen pregnancy or any other category of marginalisation for that matter. If you live in that area, until you as an individual finally act in a way that makes you fall into one of those categories, those statistics do not represent you as a person and are therefore in no way a determinant of your future. They do not define you until you let them.

It is based on this point that I agree with Ben Affleck more than I did his counterparts (until Sam Harris acknowledged that they were speaking of ideas as opposed to people). His point was that judgement should always fall on those who are perpetrating disaster. Not the faith they claim to represent, not the race or country from which they came, but the perpetrators, the terrorists themselves. The end. To focus the blame elsewhere based on statistics is misguided and dangerous because then the victim count extends beyond those directly affected by terrorism or genocide to even more innocent people who had absolutely nothing to do with any of it.

I'm certainly not saying that we shouldn't condemn dangerous ideas. Ideas are what drive these attacks and to pretend they don't serve a vital role is naive. But that still provides no excuse to unfairly judge and demonise innocent people who haven't adopted those more violent ideas. The beheadings in Iraq do not make it ok for the beatings and harrassment of innocent Muslims in Australia to have occurred as they did after the police crackdown this last month. That they did is abhorrent and a tragic manifestation of blind and uninformed hate. No number of bombings, attacks, beheadings or kidnappings will ever justify retaliating against the innocent and I say this as someone who has lost a family member to a terrorist attack. 

As Aslan said, those individuals, those societies or those governments that actively oppress and abuse people should be condemned but to breed fear and misunderstanding based on blanket generalisations leads to discord beyond borders because therein lies a very dangerous idea - that we have the right to judge people based, not on their own actions, but on the terrible actions of someone else.