So, as I commented on a blog two days ago, yesterday, Fischer Library was giving out free books. To keep and not have to worry about that pesky return date, or other students needing the "essential readings". I personally think it should be a free-for-all in the library where if you need a book, its to first person to get out the door with it. Maybe it shouldn't even stop there - it's a world-wide brawl for the essential readings. You finally get your hands on Adam Smith's The Wealth of Nations, look over your shoulder, start running for the door and get tackled by the person you sit next to in lectures who rips the books from your hands, then makes it through the door, only to be hit round the head by a 2x4 obtained from the new construction areas by the lecturer, who heads to Central Station, only to be pushed onto the tracks, and the book retrieved by another student. It might make university interesting for once, what, having to run for your life.

Anyway, the library was giving books out. I managed to scavenge seventeen from the overwhelming crap that no one has probably borrowed in they were first placed on the shelf. That's not to say what I got were gems. The category I used for selection was "That title could be applicable to something I might be concerned with in the next fifty years, so I'll take it!" I really just stayed in the politics part and grabbed a few books concerning American politics , then moved to the education section and the rest of my grab-bag was about secondary education and special education and stuff like that, knowing that that's a subject I'm doing sooner or later.

All in all, it meant that I got free books. Free anything these days is a good thing, so I went home happy for once (seriously, it's one of the few times), and even got off a CityRail train happy. It was a bizarre experience.

Thomas.

QANTAS the worst? Obviously those people interviewed never traveled EzyJet. Now if you want to emulate atrocious service, you want to emulate anything EzyJet does - from ridiculously strict check-in times to fucking up your own conveyor belts. And orange? Seriously, it hurts the eyes when you wake up.

Oh, and I couldn't put my hat (my Akubra) on my lap during landing. Why, I have no idea. Maybe because it's such a block to thoroughfare in case the plane crashes? Because you're bound to just glide in and have a chance to walk down the aisle, and you certainly don't want a hat that could block your way. Certainly you couldn't just, well, step on it and flatten it. No no no, I hear rabbit pelts can only be cut by diamonds and sharp wit. Bunch of poms. The B.A. rejects they have to employ probably only share half a brain. And that's with the pilot as well.

Six more posts ...

Sixty visits ...

As a side note, the blog, this month, has seen 904 page views. Praps it could reach 1000 by the end of month?

Thomas.

Did anyone else notice that a guy on one team on The Rich List last night (Channel Seven) was also a contestant on 1 vs 100 last night as well (Channel Nine)? The wharfie whose name I think way Jay (?) who named $75, 000 worth of countries with a 'z' in their name, and is currently the reigning pod-dweller, with a lady, to the next episode of The Rich List . That was 7:30pm - 8:30pm. 8:30pm - 9:30pm was 1 vs 100, and he won jack shit. I missed what sent him out, but I doubt it would have been about countries with 'z' in their name.

It's probably unlikely that it was planned (I don't remember reading that Jay the wharfie is a ratings lock), so another strange coincidence that happened yesterday.

Seven more posts ...

Thomas.

A little anecdote, just to make this the most posted month this blog has seen to reflect it as the most visited month, yesterday, someone came to this blog from the QBE insurance firm. One of my friends works there (relatively high up for his age I believe), though he had no idea I actually wrote a blog whatsoever. I thought it would be rather strange if had just happened upon the blog, so I asked him. he and I always joke about how he never does any work, while I, the university student, have a harder life. Of course, this is total bullshit, but it's a running joke. So when he denied having come to the blog, it was a case of loading on the sarcasm and using it as proof that he really doesn't do any work, especially at the end of the financial year.

On something similar, but in no way related, I had a visitor from the BBC today. They came by Googling "Deus Lo Vult", so obviously they weren't exactly looking for a topic that I may have blogged about. But I find it interesting that also during this month I had a visitor from Fairfax Ltd. as well. Deus Lo Vult on the rise? No, not really. But interesting readers? Certainly.

And on something that is neither similar nor related, I'm wondering if I could churn out eight posts (that don't constitute post-spam) in the next two days to bring the post rate up to once a day. Would be a challenge, but I struggle to think of topics at the best of times ...

Hopefully I can think of ideas that get me linked and get me another sixty viewers as well, taking the total for the month to 600.

Thomas.

The 18 Cup appears to be unofficially retired as it gathers dust on my shelf. Of course, the Cup has gathered quite a bit of dust on my shelf when it was played for, but that's beside the point. In terms of cards, for those who still enjoy playing, rather than doing nothing, poker is dead. Long live 500! For some time I've played 500 (outside of The 18 Cup group) and maintained it to be a superior card game to Texas Hold 'Em, but the novelty of poker was there to enjoy. 500 is a rather serious, fought out and exciting game, where thinking, skills and teamwork reach a level unseen in poker. It's a game for truly skilled card players (which would explain why some people who are weak at cards choose to not play it).

I have many a stories about 500 that could be retold, but they aren't exactly interesting - family and friend politics, father and son excommunication, yelling, screaming, fun and tournaments. One that I will regale is the following: my family is good friends with two other families. Each of the eldest sons went to primary school and were in the same year (that's me), and we played sports growing up with each other. And we all enjoy snow trips, so we traveled down to the fields every year for a few years and stayed for a week or so. At nights we would play cards, and there were many people there who knew how to play 500: ten people. Five teams of two. So one year we decided that we would set up a tournament of sorts and play for this wooden egg-cup that was in the lodge we stayed at. I was was probably (then) the fourth best playing the rounds and I was paired with the best player there - the mother of one of the boys I went to school with. And we went undefeated through seven matches in one night. We backed up the following night with another undefeated seven matches, followed by the next year with an undefeated six. So, with my partner, for The Egg-Cup, I'm 20 - 0. Go me.

While not undefeated in social play with The 18 Cup gang, I do hope that we can start playing for The 18 Cup, and then continue on with my quasi-professional winning streak. Even if it means having to beat the one who calls Misère.

Thomas.

This month may very well become the most successful month for this blog. Not surprisingly, it's been the most hectic, in terms of university work, that I've had all year I suspect. Already I've had more visitors this months (466 as of right now, with five days to go) compared to the previous best (434 for th whole month of November '06), and the post count is at twenty-one (inclusive) - one shy of my most productive month of August '06 (with 22 posts). Note that I'm 123 page views short of the most in a month (October '06).

As I thought about this, I remembered reading Jim Belshaw's post about why people blog and the sense of community. It was rather insightful, and I believed it to be true (I even left a comment! Shock and awe!), and it made me think about why I blog. I know that this blog generally serves as a distraction from university work for me, but I suspect that I also use it as an outlet to have the conversations that I don't have with other people (the whole six or so people that I speak to in real life), or at least blow off some steam that I otherwise would have to keep inside.

I have a high regard for people who blog for an actual purpose, rather than fulfilling their own wants and needs, as with me. But the fact that some might find all this interesting is in itself interesting.

Thomas.

You know how in life you encounter two 'special' types of person? There's those people that you can't do a thing wrong, you and them are just great company, you know, really friendly and all. And then there's the other type, where no matter how much effort you put into things, you cannot get along for more than an hour, if even five minutes. Well, I certainly have experienced my mix of these two people in the past 24 hours. There's someone I know (and anyone who knows me outside of this blog will know who I am talking about) who I simply cannot continually get along with. Don't think I haven't tried. I have, and I did for a long time, but it just got so tiresome and frustrating that I realised any value that friendship might have certainly wasn't worth the effort it required. So, quite simply, I gave up caring what this person thought or said or uttered about me under their breath and put them out of mind. I wouldn't go out of my way to piss them off just to piss them off, but I certainly wouldn't go out of my way to appease their every want and will (which, you may wish to note, would have been what maintaining that friendship entailed). I just gave up on the person because, all-in-all, they are a complete idiot, obnoxious to the world and oblivious to other people. They are self-centred and self-consumed and don't give two hoots unless the topic of conversation is about them. And, of course, they know everything, don't take advice, and never listen to a word they say.

So please, indulge me for a moment, when I relay the following scenario to you - plans are made, people agree to them, and someone 'calls in sick'. If plans are made, things have been planned around an event. If I need to, say, wake up at 4:30am to get to work (which I do of a Saturday morning), and I can avoid absolutely having to go out Friday night, then I will. But, if I've made plans to go out Friday night, I'm not exactly going to bump my friends for a night's sleep all because I can't be fucked going out. I'm not like that - if I say I'm going somewhere, and people have banked and made plans around me showing, then I show. But the person I'm referring to simply doesn't think about that, and even though they've made a commitment to show, they attempt to ultimately ditch the event. That might not make a whole lot of sense outside of my dark mind, but it makes sense to me, so I'm running with it.

Now, knowing full well that I care about as much as knocking over a glass of water as I do the friendship with the person who is prepared to ditch me and my friends, am I really going to hold my tongue, or go to an effort to appease, or try and forget that it ever happened (that I could have had a good night's sleep for my work and gone out Saturday instead) all for the sake of this 'friendship'? Hell no. In fact, I'm going to make sure that the person knows just how much I value it and say "Don't come tonight, I won't come any night". It's not an attempt to piss someone off, it's an attempt to make this person wake up and realise that they aren't the centre of the world and that if you make a commitment, you damn well better show!

End of that story is: they showed, tried to have a horrible night (while three others intended on having a great night) ended up having a good night, though for a majority of the evening, created a tension air and a grumpy mood between he and I. I couldn't care less - I went and saw Pirates of the Caribbean III, I had a good meal, I enjoyed the company of two people who were there and I got home and had some sleep. I doubt this person could say the same thing, but like spilled water, I don't care about it.

Now that's the second type of person who you (or I at least) just do not care to be around anymore. The first type, I have the pleasure of working with on the rare occassion. See, I work at a golf course, and even though people blow off the idea that I could have risen through ranks, I worked my way up from a lowly range ball collector to what is officially called a sales position, but in actuality, I run the course on Saturdays (the busiest day of the week as it is competition day) and, during the semester holidays, any other days I get called in. I'm left unsupervised regularly, have to deal with excess of 100 customers per hour, while coordinating around 200 people on a golf course at once. That's not an effort to make myself sound more important that I am, but just a very general description of what I do. I've been doing it for three years now (I've been employed by the course for four years and some months) and I like to think I do a good job at it. There was a dodgey patch some where in the middle when I didn't get along with one of my bosses, but they got fired because no one got along with them.

Anyway, enough about that crap. When the course got brought out, we had a new boss and he decided to keep on the original employees, while implementing new administrative roles (accountant and general business manager). The general business manager ended up being the new owner's daughter, Marie, who is a delightful and just a great person. At the time when she started, I was working there the most, and knowing that she was my top-boss' daughter, I thought it stupid to get off-side with her, or at least act a mindless drone around her. And, I won't shy away from it: I had just finished high school, and one of the things that was on my mind (after being freed from an all-boys school) was fostering the company of women. And I certainly wasn't adverse to my co-employees' company - she is very attractive, and has a personality to boot. So there might have been (well, it's pretty much guaranteed) efforts to 'impress', or at least be memorable. And things went swimmingly and, as much as I can suspect, we both managed to get something out of the friendship that we both wanted - she managed to transition into the place quicker, easier and had someone to work with who was a bunch of fun (because during the week it can get so damn boring at a golf course), and I managed to at least hold my own in the company of a female (which, again, for people who know me outside of this blog, would gawk at that idea - I'm not exactly the most sociable when it comes to male company, not even delving into the mysterious world of women).

Then I started university, I had my days cut back to weekends and sporadic weekdays, and after about six months, Marie decided she had had enough of the course (it's not exactly a perfect working environment, rather, a juggling act of working, customer relations and socialisation). So we never saw each other for some time. Then, the person who replaced her unfortunately got sick and had to leave. Now in between the (probably) good two years that went by between me going to university and when the replacement got sick, I saw Marie perhaps twice, when she was called in for emergencies or short-staffed days etc., but not in any capacity to catch up. So when the replacement got sick, Marie was called in. I was still only working Saturdays, but I was getting called in more regularly because, as mentioned, one of my bosses was fired, and every now and then I get called up to cover them. I have no problems, I need the money, so I agree, but I didn't exactly jump at the opportunity until I found out that Marie was back to working there.

Now, my train of thought had shifted over the two years from the reasons I was glad to be working with her before she left and the reasons I now am glad to work with her. Over the two years I went through a roller-coaster of wanting to be there, not wanting to be there, hating the place, enjoying the place, all these changes in emotions, until it sort of settled on "Well Thomas, the best way to enjoy working there is to enjoy the company you have". Now the golf pro that I open up on Saturday mornings with is real top bloke, and the trainee that I work with through the afternoon is just as good. Similarly, my new boss and one of my old bosses are great to work with as well. But the customers ... the customers ... the customers can just drive you to world's end sometimes. Well, not sometimes: every time. See, at my golf course, the members think they know everything, and a lot of them are like the first category of people I mentioned. Now don't get me wrong, there are some real characters and people that you have to enjoy the company off, and I have no trouble bending over backwards for them and going to efforts. But I have to do this for the people I don't like either, and that really ticks me off. I learned long ago that I have to keep all that in, but some weeks you just can't - whether everything goes wrong or in their eyes you can't do your job or they just complain about things to you that you have no responsibility over. There are a million ways people can give me a headache, and I don't expect I've experienced them all. But I make the best of the company I have.

So, from this, it's understandable why I would jump at the chance to work with Marie if I can. I don't have to make a effort to make the company good - she makes it good for us. Any conversation we have we both enjoy - and they aren't always silly conversations either. She's a university graduate and is interested in what I'm doing. I'm someone who likes to talk, so I'm interested in anything. Additionally, she thinks that I'm witty and funny - how she came to this conclusion I'll never know. But we both get a kick working with one another. I don't have as much fun working with anyone else across the span of the day as I would if I worked with Marie.

Of course, to say that I've entirely forgotten all of those reason I wanted to work with Marie would be a lie.

I'm not exactly sure, when I started this post, where I intended to go with it, but here's where I'm going to conclude: with these two types of people, you can see how they both affect you, and ultimately, which friendship you're going to put effort into and which one you're not. Funnily enough, the friendship I want to put effort into doesn't need any effort at all - it develops and flows by itself, and it doesn't exactly end when we don't see each other for long stretches of time. But the (former) friendship that required a lot of effort just taxes you like nothing on Earth, and eventually you just give up. Thankfully, now that I have given up on this burden of a friendship, there's this gray weight gone from my mind, and it's giving me a heck of a lot of time more time to think about more important things.

Things like refiling those glasses of water I might have split.

Thomas.

I think, though I can't be sure, that I'm the subject of a conversion attempt. I received an email from someone who claimed to have found my work through Ninglun, and from there he linked me to pages and websites that talked about philosophy, and materialism and science bashing. I wasn't exactly sure how to treat it, as I've never been the sort of person to be targeted by preachers and converters and what-have-you. But apparently my blog indicates otherwise.

I'll give those pages a look over, and try and make some sense out of it, but from what I'd read so far, I needed a clear and focused mind, such is it's depth - something that I don't have when Desperate Housewives is on. Perhaps tomorrow. Though, in saying that, I don't know how long I'll be able to focus before I start critiquing what is written and starting a never-ending Internet argument in which no one will win, and eventually it will drop into the realm of flame warring.

Thomas.

I realise I was rather harsh in terms of 'critiquing' Turkey two posts ago. Let me explain why, and further kill the second bird by telling the story about the worst day of my life.

I woke up at 2am, got driven to Luton Airport, to get a 6:30 flight to Istanbul. I was flying EzyJet, and their procedure goes that you have to check in at least forty minutes before the flight. We (myself, my grandfather and his brother) wanted to get there with plenty of time to spare, just in case, and rocked up at 4:30am expecting check in to be easy. Now, here's the thing with EzyJet: you don't reserve a seat, they sell more tickets than they have seats, it's super strict, so if you're not there forty minutes before, and it's thirty-eight, they will not let you on the plane.

That is, unless, they fuck up.

They announced that the check-in desks for our flight, only two desks, and a mass of people flocked. We made probably the 3/5ths mark, and stood there. And stood. And stood. And stood some more. We did not move a step forward for forty-five minutes. Then we started moving. Eventually, we made the counter, LAST, somehow, and check it ... at 6am. We made a mad dash towards security where they had to scan hand-luggage, jackets, hats, boots and whatever the hell I could take off that would conceal a weapon. I made it through, and bolted towards the plan, and grabbed the first seat I could. That was at 6:20am. Ten minutes later, the plane was going, my relos were on, and we were in the air. That just started the whole day off.

Landing, you need a visa to get out of the airport. They accept EU dollars if you're from certain countries or US dollars from others. Do note, any travelers, that they will not give you change for any amount. It was US$10 (I think, but it certainly could have been more) to get this visa, and no matter what note you were using to pay with, whether it was a twenty, a fifty or a hundred, you would not get change.

Getting stamped, after getting your visa, was just as bad. They give you the third degree about where you're from and what have you. This, on top of the fact that my guy decided to walk off with my passport. Now, there's the number one rule as a traveler that you do not let your passport out of sight. You lose it and you're fucked. So there I was, having to chase this guy down back to the visa booth. Apparently the guy had stuck on the wrong one. All this government official had to do was put a sticker on one of the pages and he couldn't even get that right. Eventually I caught the guy, watched my passport, then got through.

Bus trip number one: Sabiha Gökçen International Airport into Istanbul, over an hour in a 30 C bus in ridiculous traffic. At that time, I thought it would be the worst.

Get into the bus depot and start walking around, looking for a store that sells bus tickets to Canakkale. Immediatly we were swamped by the following people:

• A man trying to sell us "good Russian wives";
• Numerous people trying to shine our shoes. I had suede on by that time;
• Beggars, who rank high on my list of people I dislike;
• Chestnut cart vendors;
• Taxi drivers

Escaping these people we dragged our bags across Taxim Square, which had more people there than I'd ever seen in one place before. It was bedlam. We asked approximately twenty people how to find a street and got three different ways to go, ten people just ignore us and the rest just mutter something to the person they were with. Eventually we found where we were looking for, and discovered that they were out of tickets and we would have to get the 6pm bus. That's not that bad, right?

Wrong. The bus trip is six ... freaking ... hours! We knew this, and we should have somehow arranged to get earlier tickets but the person we got in contact said there would be no problems getting tickets for the 2pm bus on the day. I guess something was last in translation.

So, we had to mull around for around three hours or so. The amount of people hadn't subsided and we were hungry. We found, of all places, a Burger King and stayed there for the time. I didn't need to go to the toilet at that time, but I surely wish I had. But my grandfather did and said that he had to navigate the most disgusting bathroom he's ever seen. Obviously he had never seen the stairwell.

So it's time to get a shuttle bus to the bus station where the six hour journey starts. And it was meant to be there at 5:00pm so that we would make our trip. And time went by ... and by ... and by ... and no bus. It came, at 5:30pm, and he made a mad dash for the depot. We made it in time for me to make the mistake of my life. "I need to go to the toilet. I'll be right back."

I walked one direction, I walked the other, and I couldn't see a single restroom. I ducked into one office, they had no idea what I was asking about. I found another, asked, then had to do a few hand actions to convey what I was looking for. A shifty old man grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stairwell and pointed in the direction. He tried to make sure that I understood, but because I was expecting something that I'm used to, he ultimately failed. Though, credit to him, he did help me, and I was grateful.

I started down the stairs, and by about the second turn, the place stank. I guessed that it was a rarely cleaned toilet I was headed to. I stepped off one platform and pulled my foot up in enough time to keep clear of a puddle of urine. I looked for a place to step and realised that, well, the stairwell was the bathroom and that you just let fly off the bottom step. Having my Western notions of modesty, I stepped up to a wall, trying to, you know, look inconspicuous, and did my tour of duty. I ran out of there as fast as I could. Eventually my grandfather's brother wanted to go to the toilet before the trip, so I warned him then pointed to the stairwell.

We get on the bus, and wait around, until close to 7pm waiting for people. Punctuality must be optional with buses in Turkey. I was praying that I wouldn't get anyone sitting next to me, but I did. And I'm all the better for it. I could not have met a more helpful, kind and generous person on my entire trip. His name was Seljuk, and he was our saviour. He came from Canakkle, he worked for a tile manufacturing firm and he had just flown in from Spain where he was at a tile convention. We had at least four hours of conversation before exhaustion set in for me, being up since 2am. I found out that China's economic expansion is affecting Turkey as much as Australia, that they are mad soccer fans, that he thought the people of Istanbul were rude, offensive and uncouth (a word I had taught him to describe around five minutes of trying to describe them with different words) and that he rarely went into the city because it was too crowded.

The bus trip, which was advertised as six hours, was significantly longer because we made intermittent stops in random places. Imagine a bus traveling down the M5, and then having a bus pull over, in the dark, and just letting people off where not a building can be seen at all. That's what was happening. Then someone would see someone they knew and a conversation would ensue. So the trip stretched out.

At about the three hour mark, we stopped at a cafe sort of thing. Don't ever ask for a double shot because these people had no idea. I needed something to keep me awake, and I couldn't even get a strong coffee. I don't know how easy some people find it to sleep on buses, but I can't. I'm a very suspicious person, and was afraid someone would knock off my hand luggage that I held onto white-knuckled if I fell asleep. So my dozes consisted of me closing my eyes, two seconds later, ripping them open and checking to see if my bag had been touched. I wasn't worried about Seljuk beside me, I was worried about the other people who hadn't earned my trust. I was only carrying around $5000 worth of electronics and essentials to keep me going.

We got to a ferry station to cross over to Asia (I think). The bus got on, and awaited, again, until a double-barrel truck emerged from the darkness and proceeded to back into a spot that, I swear, left only an inch either side of it. It was a masterful act of REVERSING into the gap.

We made land and drove for another x-amount of hours, before, finally we made Canakkle. We got out: 2:30am. Thankfully we had phoned the the hotel to say we might be a bit later than our 8pm check in, and they said that someone would be there. I couldn't thank that man enough who waited up four and a half hours for people who could have given him the skiff for all he knew.

So, what was my experience, that created my opinion, of Istanbul? Ten hours on buses, an hour in customs and visas (and that's not counting the two and so that I had at Luton), ten millions Istanbullians and twenty four hours awake. So I'm hard on Istanbul because I had a pretty average experience. But Canakkale - now that's a place I would recommend. Especially Kalyon Bar. Mustafa owns the place, he worked on a Miami cruise ship for a while, so he speaks very good English and makes mean margarita. And he has a very nice friend in Besra(?), who can hold her own at the bar ... until the spirits come out. And TJ's Tours, who do the ANZAC tours, s so frigging good! There were a whole three of us, and normally a tour group runs on a minimum amount of people, otherwise it's not worth the price in fuel, but he went out in a bus with just us three. He gave us salad rolls (which is what I'm pinning getting food poisoning from, but it didn't set in until we left) and a bottle of water all for AUD$40. We had the most enjoyable time in Canakkale, and I could not fault it for a single second.

Which is certainly why I'd recommend it. But Istanbul? I, personally, would recommend trying to avoid it and heading to the skirts of the country. I generally say that to anyone traveling anywhere - whether it's Australia, England or where ever. Don't go to where the most people are. It's like going to Sydney city - everyone's rude and blah. But get away, go bush, or go to somewhere like Adelaide or Hobart or Perth, and it's grand.

Thus, please understand all you Turks out there, that when I say I don't like Istanbul, it's because I had a bum experience there. But the rest of Turkey, as far as I can say, is a world of difference and a great place to go.

Thomas.

Back to the old days with university. An hour trip in, an hours lecture, and then an hours trip back home. I spend more time traveling than I do learning. Not that a whole lot of learning happens at university these days.

Theoretically I should be spending all this extra time doing my assignments and catching up on work and all that hoo-haa. But that ain't happening. Not for a second.

Thomas.

I've planned out, on paper that is, my next holiday. When it is going to happen is up in the air - it could start as soon as next year, or may have to wait until I finish three and a half more years of university. Either way, it's a big 'un. And there's a reason behind it - I want to go on a holiday and not be a tourist.

Ok, that probably makes no sense at all outside of my mind, so I'll try and explain it as best I can. See, the country I've spent the longest, uninterrupted time in is Orlando, for two weeks, back in '01. But I was only a kid, and it was a holiday that my parents had planned out, and it was all about Disneyworld. The next longest is about a week and a half in London, on my just-gone holiday. That time I wasn't a son, rather I was a tourist. And sure, the novelty was good, but I really wanted to get through that barrier and become something more. Something that meant I could fit in and become 'one of the locals', just with an odd accent. Being a tourist is fun, because of the anonymity factor, but I want a chance to actually start something over, knowing that it would all come to an end on a certain date. Which would mean a chance to do-over any mistakes I had 'blending in' here and the chance to live every day like it's the last. It would be a chance to really try out a new and exciting experience in an increasingly predictable world.

Which is what my (paper) holiday has planned out - it's five months or so spent in and around the USA. I frankly don't care what people's opinions are of "Americans" or "America", because a lot of these people are speaking from ignorance - they are generalising on a base of Bush, stereotypes and T.V. at best, and the America they talk about is the trigger-happy, war-mongering, ill-democracy that is so popular to bash on these days. I want to go over to experience the real America. I've been there, albeit a long time ago, but I've been there and I have no recollection of any truth being behind the anti-America arguments.

The same happened when I was on my last holiday. People say Turkey is a great country is they've been, otherwise, it's just another terrorist-filled blot on the map (and, for the oblivious persons out there, something I don't believe). I found that the people there were extremely nice outside of Istanbul, as you generally find in all countries, but inside of the wannabe capital (because, yes, I knew it was Ankara, I had to stop over there) it's too freaking busy to even gauge a feeling. I won't be going back to Istanbul, but perhaps to other places outside of. Now that's the opinion of one who has been there, and the subjectivity of my experience clouds my perception - I contracted food-poisoning, one of the public toilets I used was a stairwell (I should probably blog about that story actually) and all of my quirks made sure that I had a very average time. Thus, experience creates opinion.

So when people spout about how Americans are rude and loud, or obnoxious or whatever, and they have never set foot inside the country at all (and would anyone truly want their country judged on the handful of tourists that go abroad every year? Would you want Australia to be judged on it's tourists i.e. me, when they are traveling?) and America is an awful place to travel to, I just laugh in their faces and talk about how stupid they sound (usually around now I have to duck, as the person I'm ridiculing takes a swing at me) and then talk about how I'm going there to create my own, informed, opinion.

Anyway, that's the second reason I want to go to America. The third is pretty simple - to do something on my own. I want to plan and book a holiday all on my own (I pretty much did this last time, as my grandfather is hopeless on computers, but he had input), I want to go on a holiday all on my own - I want to do things in a foreign country, on the other side of the world, on my own. Call this my break at independence, call it selfishness, call it whatever, but it's what I want to do. And, in fiscal and practical terms, it could happen this year. The only thing keeping me from doing it is the fact that I want to try and make this the most kick-ass holiday ever.

So, getting away from reason why, and getting to what doing, I have a list, in my room, of things I want to do before my life is out. Things get added to it every year, and very few things get removed. Some might call that weird, but when I ask people what they want to do in their lives, they have to think and umm and uhhh and whatever before they come up with one or two things, which generally include owning a house and having a job that they like, then these dream holiday ideas that I have come into play. I don't have to think, I've got it all on paper, and about twenty of them can get knocked off the list with this monster trip I have planned, and then still have months of free time to spare.

As just a few, new years in New York was high on the list. So was see a SuperBowl, not because I particularly like NFL (I do like it) but because it's one of the biggest sporting events in the world (and I plan on going to every big thing that sports has to offer). Of course, there's those tourist-ey things, like Mt. Rushmore, Grand Canyon, Hollywood, but there's a heck of a lot of obscure things, like spending a over a month living in Texas. I don't know why I want to do it, but I do. And, of course, being in Texas means you can stop in at Dallas and stand on the Grassy Knoll. Additionally, because there are so many Americans (and Canadians surprisingly) on th eInternet, I've invariably made some friends who I'd like to go see, so that's something else drawing me to America.

But this huge holiday, to get back to where I nearly started, means that I am spending a long time in single locations, which means it gives me long enough to establish some kind of 'place' in a society. That's all I want to do - throw myself into a sort of experiment, where I have to reestablish myself from an outsider's position to an insider, all in a finite amount of time and knowing, full well, that I'm going back to a monotonous and mundane life at the end, which should only spur me on to make the most of it all.

That's the plan at least. But when it comes to holidays and me, those plans happen.

Thomas.

On Thursday, as my friend Andrew will testify to, I had to go into Sydney University to hand in an assignment and be subject to a second interview as part of a research program on the course I just finished: EDUF3028 Mentoring in Educational Contexts. They shape the course next year according to student feedback from evaluation surveys and the mentor's interviews. I (covertly) obtained copies of my mentee's surveys to see what they thought about me and the way I handled the workshops. To my immense surprise, they were overwhelmingly positive, and that's no lie (trust me, I would have taken pleasure in getting negative feedback to write about).

So, as I mentioned, I had to go in for this interview. The first one was meant to be half and hour, but mine somehow stretched to a tick under a whole hour. I am probably the most ideal test subject because I like to give in-depth and articulate answers to their questions, so generally when I answer, I invariably give the interviewer something to run with, or go off on a tangent with. So I expected this one to be just as long, especially seeings it was a follow-up and partially reflective on what had transpired over the past eight weeks or so.

My interviewer, who was an extremely likable and pleasant person, reported to me at the conclusion of the interview that I had given her, by far, the most positive and self-constructive (the experience being positive for me) feedback out of everyone she had interviewed. I was rather pleased that I could contribute something positive (no pun intended) to the program and, with the honestly (that isn't really a trait of my) that I brought to that interview, perhaps I will have a hand (through my interview) of shaping the course next year. Because I was told that the vast majority of first and second interviews consisted of "It was ok" and "Yeas" or "No" to the questions that were wide enough to write an essay about.

What my answers consisted off were how good the workshops were, that the mentees had come to me for help for a range of problems and that the preparation and teaching that I did engage in had helped instill some sort of confidence in me that I would have otherwise gone into my practicals next year without. See, I'm rather weak, in fact hopeless, in public speaking roles. I hate the vast majority of speeches (and the only ones I do like are on topics that I'm very proficient in, i.e. Star Wars, CityRail and my current desktop background). So I had a rather large doubt that I could even cut it in a classroom at all, and the only thing I had to gauge myself on was these public speaking roles I had to take part in, whether it be an individual speech or group task. Whatever it was, I was judging myself on those.

But, per my reflections and the surveys that my mentees had me fill out, I wasn't hopeless at all. In fact, I seemed to be a degree above competent in the Thomas Rating System, by what the surveys said and what I thought I was. It should be noted that the mentees thought that I would never see what they wrote, and that no one was being marked on it, not us or them, and that they were entirely confidential. So they were free to write what they wanted, and they all apparently did - and my performance was to their liking.

So, by the end of Thursday, I was rather pleased with myself. Significantly more pleased than I had been for quite some time to be honest. It was reassuring to have positive feedback in some facet of my life, and to at least know one decision I made, about a year and a half ago, was actually the right one.

Thomas.

I watch The Amazing Race and I often wonder who I would team up with out of everyone I know to kick ass and win. Same with Survivor - what team of eight I would pick out of all my acquaintances to go on to win with. The question would be who could put up with me for 24/7 for months on end for half a million dollars. That's a princely sum, but enough?

Also, on something totally unrelated, this is classic (and for just as entertaining reports - this, this and all 143 articles that were written). A riot ... because of a late train ... classic. I wish I was there. In fact, next time I'm at a train station and the train is late, don't be surprised if you see me trying to incite a riot. Hopefully I can think of some anti-right rhetoric to get the university students who are there to take part, and then the mindless drones who work in offices will just follow the mob.

Anyone who's had experience in a riot, any tips on how to make it most effective, destructive and out-of-control would be much appreciated. Bull horns I expect are a must, as are burning 2x4s. I think the destruction of the ticket machines was the best thing out of the article above. Because it's totally the machine's fault ...

Thomas.

Now that the most hectic four weeks of university work have come to an end, and I only have one assessment due next month that I can work on now, I can turn my attention (full attention that is) back to the things that actually interest me, like CityRail, T.V., cricket, movies and politics. Seeings cricket is over for the season, and T.V. and movies I'm saving for holidays because they are a mountain of interest for me, and CityRail doesn't interest me, rather it pisses me off. So that leaves politics. And what's more interesting that American politics?

My knowledge had slipped as of late, not having that much time to keep my ear to the ground, being in a different country and all. But, generally, I had kept tabs on those in the running for the Democratic primaries. After all, it's a powerhouse of names that stand a chance at becoming President, as long as they don't screw anything up: Obama, Clinton, Edwards the three serious names, with fringe candidates like Clark, Gore and Biden. I knew, roughly, how each of these stood in relation to winning the Democratic votes. But I had lost track of where the Republicans stood in relation to one another. All ... one of the Republicans who would stand a chance at winning the election, and the whole two who stand a chance at the primaries.

Who are those Reds? No, not the communists, but the Republicans who stand a chance? Well, none of them really. But whose names are in the hat? Well, we have former favourite to win the primaries and the office out of all the Republicans, John McCain. But his constant flip-flopping and shift to the extreme right, as well as walking all over the qualities that he had that made him favourable out of all the Republicans has simply thrown him out of the running. McCain has quickly turned into the Republican joke, and the guy that the Democrats want to get in. Let's take a look at his stance on election-deciding issues shall we?

Abortion, first up. What stood McCain out from the other Republicans was that he towed a moderate (for the Reps at least) line that he wouldn't ban it it, as it would force women to seek out illegal abortions(1). Then, last year in a whole spat of media tours to secure other's seats in the lead up to the '06 General Elections, McCain went and said wouldn't care in the slightest if the Supreme Court banned abortion, and further, would sign off on South Dakota's ban attempts to ban abortions as well (2). So where McCain stood a chance to steal over any Democrat/centre voters on this issue, his move to the extreme right on this issue has, in fact, meant that not only can he steal votes here, but he would have lost Republican (moderate)/centre voters who either don't enjoy his flip-flopping or don't agree with banning abortion.

How about economic issues? Bush's infamous tax cuts, McCain publicly denounced and opposed them for three years (3), then abruptly changed his stance, come the lead up to the '06 General Elections again, to supporting and voting for Bush's tax cuts (4). Similarly, when it came to campaign funding, he championed campaign finance reform (5) then, in '05, was busy laying foundations to opt out of the campaign finance system for the '08 race (6). So he's towing the party line here, again, and making himself another red sheep and he stops standing out from the rest, as the Republican's centrist-counter to Obama in the race, and becomes another Bush.

Social issues are certainly key to winning an election, and being able to capitalise on this is what can win an election. So you would think that someone running for the White House would just pick a stance and not budge, and cover up anything that might cost them votes with policies and opinions that would win them some, right? No, not McCain. Let's talk about Jerry Falwell, famous for recently dying and being a loud fundamentalist, in which he preached God's will occurring through everything that happened, claimed Bill Clinton was part of a cocaine smuggling ring, that the gay-oriented Metropolitan Community Churches contained members who were "brute beasts" and a part of "a vile and Satanic system" that will "one day be utterly annihilated and there will be a celebration in heaven", sued Penthouse and Hustler for publishing an interview of his in a magazine like their's, and was just a general homophobic and sexist. Now, seriously, which political figure would associate themselves with him? Not McCain, of course, who called him an "evil influence" on the Republican Party (7). Wait, no, that statement is more than a day old, and it was time for McCain to say something different. Well, he didn't just retract any statements he made about his new friend Falwell, no no no, McCain met with this crazy pastor to lay some sort of groundwork for his 2008 presidential run and agreed to speak at Falwell's Liberty University (8).

Now, of course, when he decided to take up company like this and tow the Republican lines, he certainly had to change his old views on gay marriage, which saw him oppose the federal gay marriage ban in '05 (9), and come to the red party in supporting a federal marriage amendment (10).

What could someone possibly do to lose more votes on social issues? Well, of course, advocate racism! McCain endorsed George Wallace Jr., keynote speaker at a white supremacist group meeting (11). That, of course, after he had publicly condemned the President for failing to denounce racists attitudes and beliefs at Bob Jones University in '00 (12).

Of course, our flip-book friend McCain weighed in on the Creationism/Intelligent Design debate. And, once again, he did a back flip worthy of the circus (which is where a lot of Republicans are recruited from I hear). Where he once advocated the choice of teaching Intelligent Design being left to schools (13) , he then turned round and said that "young people have the right to be told" (14) (do note not taught but told) about Intelligent Design, and further, refused to exclude it from any science classes (15).

Ultimately, all this chopping and changing and bullshit on McCain's part simply reflects what it looks like when a party has only a mediocre politician to offer the people, and they need to shape him to at least secure the extreme of their voters. Of course, it's a two way street, and it speaks a lot about McCain's convictions to his own political beliefs. Ultimately, it's this flip-flopping that will lose him the primaries as well as any chance of becoming President, and thus, sums up the Republicans chances overall.

Next time I'll dwell on the Republican's only chance at winning on policy, Mitt Romney, and not their only other name-recognition chance, who has no chance on policy, Rudy Giuliani.

Thomas.

(1) San Francisco Cronicle, 20/08/99
(2) CBS News, 25/01/06; ABC News, 29/03/06; ABC News 26/02/06; NationalJournal.com, 28/02/06
(3) Baltimore Sun, 27/04/01; Statement 18/03/03
(4) New York Times, 21/02/06
(5) New York Times 22/10/01
(6) National Journal 17/12/05; Hotline On Call 16/12/05
(7) Kansas City Star, 5/28/05
(8) US News and World Report, 11/14/05; Lynchburg News & Advance, 3/28/06
(9) Los Angeles Times, 25/01/05, 08/03 /05
(10) Meet the Press, 4/2/06
(11) AP, 17/11/05; AP, 06/06/05
(12) Fox, 24/2/00
(13) Times Union, 8/28/99
(14) Courier Journal, 12/20/05
(15) Arizona Daily Star, 8/28/05; NPR, 11/7/05

Someone from Fairfax Holdings visited this blog today, after search for Simon Fontana, of '06 university board elections fame.

That's all I had to say.

Thomas.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Today was for this blog, a rather popular day. Twenty-five views, where the highest in the past month has been twenty, then a couple of nineteens, then a drop into the low teens. At this rate, this could be the most popular month since I started the counter. I guess that the Eight Random Facts game attracted people, just to see what that weirdo Thomas had to say about himself, then the replies that were left. And really good replies I might add.

Thanks to you four who have left comments. It's turned into a confessional of sorts. Well, turned is probably the wrong word - I started a confessional it looks like.

I guess that a new, curve ball topic proves trumps to the regular, same-old same-old. Now, remember ex-18 Cup players, that the Joker is the strongest of the trumps, followed by the Jack of the suit then Jack of the same colour, opposite suit ...

Thomas.

Edit: that twenty-five has increased to an unprecedented thirty!

I have been vicitimised by ninglun here. Instead of suing for this, I will actually look at this as an opportunity to avoid doing the assignment I have due tomorrow for however long this will take, and list my eight random facts. On a side note, I expect that I have found a way to make a somewhat enjoyable and light-hearted game into a depressing and 'blah' game (blah being the technical term there).

1. I despise university. I abhor it. I would quite easily trade in the next three years of consciousness to wake up with my degrees in my hand.

2. I am extremely afraid of death. Not so much the process of dying (that is, the pain of being stabbed for example) , rather, actually being dead. Fear of not existing is probably a more apt description.

3. I believe that JFK was shot by a group of people associated with the Skull and Bones fraternity, and that George H. W. Bush was involved.

4. I have seen a shrink for the past year, and expect I will continue to see said shrink for the rest of my life.

5. There are days when I wake up and endeavor to not have to talk to a single person. There are also days when I succeed in this task.

6. I have never smoked (much less tried one drag on a cigarette) or tried any illicit drugs. I never will either.

7. Apart from Elvis and Roy Orbison, I don't follow any musicians, rather, I just like the odd songs. In saying that, my MP3 player has well over 1200 songs.

8. I have brought fifty or so DVDs without having ever seen the film before. Surprisingly, out of those fifty or so, I have only ever not throughly enjoyed two - A Streetcar Named Desire and Goodnight and Good Luck.

Now, because I haven't found eight blogs that I like enough to link to them, nor am I aware of eight people who consistently read this blog, I'm just going to go ahead and leave it up to anyone who has the stones to comment this post with the eight facts. I don't particularly mind if it doesn't happen, but it would be extremely interesting if you did and I'd certainly remember that you did it.

Thomas.

My endeavor, after I pile through my mountain of university work (which, let's face it, isn't going to happen too soon given my personal drive and motivation, or lack-there-of) is to beat my benchmark of the best post of the year, as decided by ninglun on his blog, as a sort of reference point for this blog. It was the photo post of The 18 Cup, on it's world tour, back in March. The question is, how could anyone beat such a monstrous benchmark? Do I have to go on another holiday (which, as a matter of fact, is in the works for next year)? Perhaps a post with actual substance, not unlike that of my Amelie review? I'll have to put some thought into this ...

Of course, I could just write about a typical sojourn meeting. That would be quite popular on the basis that everyone would think it a work of fiction.

Thomas.

The Generic Blog Post

I had a good laugh at this because it was the predominant blogging experience I saw, and even had, before I started writing my own. Very witty, but true for most political blogs. I especially liked the inclusion of spam in the example.

As to the actual comments that readers left, most are left to be desired and don't rank anywhere near the amusement levels of the post. I think they are missing the point of taking a stab at blogging in general, not a certain side of politics or commentators.

Anyway, a good read.

Thomas.

Everyone, by now, should probably know what my top five films are (and if you don't, it's on the right, a scroll down), which includes the unmatched, in terms of complexity, layers of interpretation and pure camera work, Donnie Darko. Now, I'm not about to get into a review of this fantastic film (just yet) like I did with Amelie some time ago, however, I would like to draw people's attention to the stand out single-shot camera work that is my most memorable scene from DD. It's so ... I don't know, but I watch this scene and I love it. It's so unique in that there is no cutting and the single shot from the one camera is so smooth and continuous. It's very cleverly shot, bouncing off from one character to another, and manages to introduce people we haven't even seen yet, but preface the meeting we are about to have with a little snippet of information.

Also, the music, Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears is just so apt. I think I remember listening to the commentary where the director said that he had the music before the filming and shot to suit, but I may be wrong. The scene, regardless, seems to have that effect, so it was either lucky music selection or fantastic adaption of the camera to music.

Anyway, this could go on for some time, so instead, I'll sum up by saying: watch this video (some criminal has posted it on YouTube, thankfully), and what I'm raving about in the previous paragraph is 00:14 - 2:10. Now, while the rest of the scene is interesting as well, it's the single shot that I'm mostly drawn to.

Thomas.

This is a quasi-follow-on from the previous post, so if you want (because I obviously couldn't force you to ... or could I?) read that before reading this.

If you'd followed the link in the previous post through, you would have also seen that I/this blog got described as being "seriously good on movies and cricket". Now that I certainly wouldn't take umbrage with. But what have I written about movies (not so much cricket, but still a proportion of it) is, again, my opinion, which is what seemed to cause the superciliousness of this blog. Strange thing that.

Regardless of that, I still want to write more about movies, and now that I've taken to handwriting blogs during tutorials about movies (using the diabolical scheme that I wrote about last month (or longer ago)), expect, when things quiet down for me, many more movie-related posts.

And I expect my "Last Five Movies I Saw" do-hickey will tick over at a ferocious rate come the holidays, as I've somehow bought fifteen DVDs that I've never seen before. Whimsical spending.

Thomas.

Hmmm.

Apparently I (or my blog, it was hard to tell from the description) am supercilious, or at least perceived to be, by some persons (on that page, Deus Lo Vult is the nineteenth point down). My original reaction was to take an amount of umbrage at this description, which then resided when I had a think about what was written, and then mostly disappeared when I saw that there was a few definitions of the word supercilious that I hadn't used the word myself for before. Because, while I in no way aim to write in a style that presents me as:

haughtily disdainful or contemptuous, as a person

I would, however, be happy if people believed my blog was:

having or showing arrogant superiority to and disdain of those one views as unworthy

Because that's generally what I've tried to write with in mind. Wait, no, hear me out. This blog isn't an essay, it's not assessable, and there's no question or topic to write about. Yes, it is, in fact, multiple writings about my opinions of things and topics that pop into my head randomly. There is nothing that dictates what I write about, and there certainly is nothing dictating what I can say. Which is why I would expect a blog to have the styles of the second definition I have included above, and not the first. Because, for as supercilious as the blog may appear to be, the blog is not me. The blog is just characters on a screen, arranged in a certain way so that multiple meanings can be drawn from them. Thus, for someone who may, in fact, be in the demographic I was deriding in my previous post, they would read that as think that I was an offensive person to be saying such things. Then, perhaps, if someone came along who had had a similar experience as I had in that crowd, and read my post, then they may very well agree. Similarly, a
person may arrive at this blog and find that post rather funny. There's a variety of reactions that can be had to each post anyone puts up on any blog, least of all mine.

The question that is raised with the aforementioned description of this blog is that is it naive of a person to assume that the blog is the author and the author is the blog? Is what I write strictly and solely everything I believe on that topic, or is it just one little spiel at a moment in time and an attempt to illicit a response from an audience? It is my belief (and I have always written to this belief) that it is the latter, and I am certainly not this blog. Anyone who knows me knows that I hold many people of the senior generation in such a high regard it's rather strange. People who know me also know that I am also very easily annoyed, and something like being brushed by a hat is quite easily catalyst enough to just piss me right off. Does this make me a supercilious person? No, it does not. It makes me a strange, tightly-wound person who writes a blog to express his views on events in his life.

Which is why I didn't take any lasting offense at being called supercilious, because my personal opinion is that a blog and its author are separate entities within society, both with different functions. Of course, some may very well argue that they at more closely associated than I would have you believe ...

Actually, this is a good argument to run an example from. My opinion is that blog and blogger are separate. What I could argue, which would require consideration, listening and 'taking on' of others opinions or arguments, is that they are closer than I give them credit for. It doesn't mean I believe it, but it does show that I have the capability of critical thinking. But there's a place and a time for critical thinking (like an essay, or something that's assessable, or if there was a question or topic to write about), and it is not at a blog that I use to write my opinions on.
Purely and simply, this is an opinion piece. There's no serious research going on, and any evidence I bring in is merely there to back up my opinion. And my opinion does sometimes run against what I can, and have, argued in more formal settings. But how many people can really say they've answered an essay question with garble that they don't believe in, but they know that the lecturer does and, therefore, write with an audience in mind.

So, yeah, this blog may appear supercilious, and that's something I have no qualms about. If you think I am supercilious, you're wrong, and I have absolute disdain for your opinion and views and arrogantly disregard your worth. Not really, but you would have a hard time standing up to the argument that I'm supercilious.

Thomas.

So today was the voluntary trek into the City to cheer on the cricketing world champions. Of course, as you would have seen on the news, there wasn't just two people standing at a barricade, rather a couple thousand all crammed in between two office blocks and a stage. And it was crammed tighter than a tin of sardines, or a CityRail train at peak hour. Either or.

However, we arrived rather early (what we thought was fifty minutes, but turned into an hour), and secured a spot 3 deep from the front. I wasn't all that displeased, until it got busier. Now, of course, Thursday 12pm isn't going to attract the population of Sydney - people work, people are students, people are busy. So who would you expect to see there? Fanatics, university students and retirees. And after this crowded experience, I have come to realise something.

For the deriding that my generation gets for being uncouth, rude and obnoxious (and I'm not about to say we're not), the older generation, 55+, they shouldn't be talking. I was elbowed, slapped, punched, head butted, kneed, glared at and inconvenienced more than I had ever been in my life! To my left: some old biddy. To my right: an old guy with a brimmed hat on. Behind me: a lady shrunk with age. In front of me: an old couple who couldn't decide on the weather. Let's start with my left shall we?

This lady had commuted in from some nowhere just to be here, so you would think that she'd be more interested in making the most of the day, rather than talking to two people who she'd never met. Alas, she wasn't, and my friend and I had to engage in conversation with her. Of course, she wasn't saying anything applicable, interesting or remotely true to the conversation we were having. Whatever that conversation was, because I certainly was conscious though it.

To my right, well, Satan couldn't have annoyed me more. Now I'm a frequent Akubra hat wearer. In fact, I think in all non-posed photo of me on my holiday (and then some that were) I have a black Akubra hat on. Now, do you know when I take it off? Indoors (because it's plain rude to wear a hat indoors) and when I'm somewhere crowded. Why when it's crowded? BECAUSE THE BRIM HITS OTHER PEOPLE'S HEADS! Being neither short nor tall, my brim doesn't brush against a person stomach nor ride above everyone, it generally hits other people in the head. That's if I left it on. Funnily enough, this jackass beside me, who hat a cricketing brimmed hat on with a stiff edge, left it on. And apparently he could see better with his chin on my shoulder and his cheek touching mine. Ok, that's not literal, but his best vantage point was leaning over my shoulder, so his hat again and again and again kept dinging into the side off my head. It's not all that annoying the first couple of times, but after the thirty fourth in half an hour (yes, I counted), it's plain rage-inducing.

Behind me, well, how can you be angry at someone who has been ravished by the process of aging? Quite easily when they kept trying to move you. I'm not talking about subtlety here, I'm talking about arms and hand grabbing you and trying to push you aside. Thankfully enough, I'm pretty solid, and the only thing that can move me has to be between the ages of 18 and 40. Not a 1800s relic. I did feel sorry that she couldn't see as well as she could - sorry that she could see anything at all actually.

And now for the persons in front of me. If ever I have encountered a more annoying, a more ruder, a more obnoxious couple in my life, I have no memory. They must have come from the North Shore, France or Melbourne because I was elbowed, I had my feet stepped on with high heels, received a face-full of gray and blue hair, and received not one single excuse me or apology from either Mrs. Ass or Mr. Ass. Either these people thought they were the centre of the universe or they were descendants of God. They were so arrogant. Let's take, for example, when Mrs. Ass tried to take off her jacket. The sun had no competition in the sky since the second it rose - there wasn't a single cloud and it certainly didn't look like rain or snow was on the horizon. So why would someone wear a jacket out? Well, apparently up her ass, this lady, while her head was there, detected a chill coming from somewhere. So she donned a jacket. And then when it got too hot, she decided to take it off. So, instead of either moving yourself within the space you take up or stepping away for more room, she decided to step back, onto me, ram an elbow into my chest, turn around, shove her shoulder into my chest as well, then take off her jacket and flop it all over me until she bundled it up. Quite an enjoyable experience. And when I say enjoyable, I mean crap house.

And that's just one story about this pair of insolent apes. I won't bother to recite in detail their problem with their empty cups and how Mr. Ass decided to attempt an achievement that The Flash could do, and walk through me (for reference, The Flash could walk through solid walls by vibrating), or how the lady couldn't decide if she wanted to watch the big screen on the left, the one on the right or the people that were making the damn speeches on the stage!

The common denominator: they were all old people that were pissing me off. Now, there were also three or four people who must have thought I was a thief or a mugger because the looks I was getting from old people just showed their mind: this person is going to steal my 1950s handbag, the pension cheque I got on Tuesday and the blue hair-dye I brought on the way in. I was more offended by the looks I was getting for daring to be in a congregation of old persons, who could only complain that this team wasn't a patch on yesteryear's teams, than being physically assaulted by those that surrounded me. And I wasn't the only one getting those looks; my friend who came in was getting them and this teenager near to us as well. Seriously, if my generation is rude, we only learned it from the senior generation that exists now, and there ain't no reason to improve if that's how we're going to be treated.

Anyway, despite my new-founded disdain for senior citizens, the day was enjoyable. We saw the gang turn up, say a couple of speeches, pose for some photos, then sign a thing or two. By now my friend had abandoned me to the crowd, otherwise I'd have been able to get photos and videos of Ponting, Hussey, Gilchrist and pretty much everyone who had turned up with The 18 Cup. But, alas, he had gone, and I was left to snap photos as best I could. I took thirty. These were the best seven:

The World Cup
Team photo one
Team photo two
Team photo three
Ponting
Hussey
Bracken

My favourites are team photo two and three.

I decided to leave by then because it was way too crowded with people fighting for autographs (similar to the way the crowds fought over the red hats that Emirates through out to the crowd. I tried my best to avoid getting one, but I ended up getting two), and people's stress levels had begun to go through the roof as a few verbal spats began to erupt between, you guessed it, old people and young people. Before I had a chance to weigh in and say something that I might have regretted (or at least caused a few heart attacks with) I snaked my way through the people, found my friend and we were out. But yes, an enjoyable day despite the problems.

Thomas.

Disclaimer: I don't hate all senior citizens, I despise those that I don't hate.

I'll be going into Martin Place on Thursday (it's such a hectic life that a student leads) to cheer on our World Cup champions at the public reception for the Australian Cricket Team. If anyone else is making the trip in, drop me a line. I'll also be taking my camera along and The 18 Cup and praying that I can get a drunk/hung over cricketer to get a photo with it. Roy would be pretty cool, of course Cap'n Punt and Eric Gilchurch would rank at the top.

Thomas.

I once swallowed Listerine (don't ask) and worried if the alcohol would put me over the limit, being a P-plater and all and not being allowed to blow 0.0001~. Well, I guess it turns out that I would have been over, because I've just found out that it's the beverage of choice for Northern Terrestrials. Don't know what I'm talking about? Here you go.

Yes, to replace the petrol sniffing that replaced the alcoholism, it would appear that with the advent of smell-free petrol to the bowser up north, Listerinism is all the craze now. What will those crazies think up next? The article suggests that it's an indigenous thing, but I'm sure I've seen a bogan or two sucking down a cool green, minty ale in my times out West. And North. And at Central Station, before getting mugged, because it's supposedly a crime hot spot now. Someone should tell them though that the No Frills mouthwash tastes like copper, and you're left walking round not with the minty-cool-fresh mouth feeling of Listerine (and you still have your barnacles on your boat), rather the feeling that you're sucking on a handful of loose change.

Something bad is seriously in the water up there. Probably from the nuclear tests that were done in and around that part of the world. I say we blame the British! Or the French. Why not both?

Thomas.