I'm so tired that my eyes are droopy in the manner of a crack addict, but damn it, I said I'll post every day and I'll be damned if I go back on that already.
Today I did the rounds; mum's house, then dad's. My mum regailed me with stories of a recent date she went on, which to me seemed deeply unneccessary. Maybe this is me alone, but I would rather never think about my mum dating or kissing. Probably because it would make me face the uncomfortable truth that she's getting some and I'm not.
My dad and I had an impassioned debate about the burqa. One of those debates of fierce, deeply held beliefs and passionate senses of justice that are unique within the white upper-middle classes who have no personal association with the issues involved. We both argued our own opinion, refused to consider the other and left with a quiet but innate sense of being right, and thus, superior.
Good day all round then.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
A Celebration of Sporadity
Is sporadity a word?
I have waved a cheery farewell (and by that I mean a sweaty, sweary, exhausted farewell) to the semester, going out on a bang by beginning my final essay, of a few thousand words and forty percent of the mark, on the day it was due. Still, such horrors are now behind me, never to be repeated again, said America, after the invasion of... everywhere. And yet, as US soldiers continue to force the uplifting and inspiring message of democracy on all and sundry, so I will find myself, mumbling swears and banging like a mad thing on the keyboard, with forty minutes to go. Such, as they say, is life.
This semester has certainly been energetic, with uni five days a week, work three days a week and.... no, actually, that's all I did. Ever.
I am all but reeling from the effort and I think some of my brain has actually given up and died (I keep forgetting what things are- I called a wooden spoon 'the brown stirry device' and a watch 'the circular time machine' yesterday) but now I have four happy days of... nothing. No work, no uni, just happily waiting to head off to Western Australia. I will attempt in this period to write a blog daily, just to ensure that I remember words.
Words like... smithereens.
I have waved a cheery farewell (and by that I mean a sweaty, sweary, exhausted farewell) to the semester, going out on a bang by beginning my final essay, of a few thousand words and forty percent of the mark, on the day it was due. Still, such horrors are now behind me, never to be repeated again, said America, after the invasion of... everywhere. And yet, as US soldiers continue to force the uplifting and inspiring message of democracy on all and sundry, so I will find myself, mumbling swears and banging like a mad thing on the keyboard, with forty minutes to go. Such, as they say, is life.
This semester has certainly been energetic, with uni five days a week, work three days a week and.... no, actually, that's all I did. Ever.
I am all but reeling from the effort and I think some of my brain has actually given up and died (I keep forgetting what things are- I called a wooden spoon 'the brown stirry device' and a watch 'the circular time machine' yesterday) but now I have four happy days of... nothing. No work, no uni, just happily waiting to head off to Western Australia. I will attempt in this period to write a blog daily, just to ensure that I remember words.
Words like... smithereens.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
On Time Passed... Or Not.
Goodness gracious, I look back and it's been a semester since I last peppered this little page with my musings. Since I last posted, I've moved out of home and out of a relationship, fallen in love with my degree and steadied my focus on my future. That's as specific as I'll get on all that, so for now I'll just leave you with a few little bits which mean things to me.
"Under the Refugee Convention, which Australia has signed, all people have the right
to seek asylum in Australia.22 They may be found to be genuine refugees, and they
may not – but seeking asylum is not illegal under Australian law or international law.
The term ʻillegal immigrantʼ, just like the term ʻqueue jumperʼ, is designed to make
asylum seekers seem alien and unworthy of sympathy."
- GetUp! factsheet... full sheet can be found here.
"She said it over and again before the line went dead. And that is what they were all saying down their phones, from the hijacked planes and the burning towers. There is only love, and then oblivion. Love was all they had to set against the hatred of their murderers."
- Ian McEwan, after September 11, here.
"Political language is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to the pure wind"
- George Orwell, most famously seen at the beginning of this WikiLeaks video.
"Under the Refugee Convention, which Australia has signed, all people have the right
to seek asylum in Australia.22 They may be found to be genuine refugees, and they
may not – but seeking asylum is not illegal under Australian law or international law.
The term ʻillegal immigrantʼ, just like the term ʻqueue jumperʼ, is designed to make
asylum seekers seem alien and unworthy of sympathy."
- GetUp! factsheet... full sheet can be found here.
"She said it over and again before the line went dead. And that is what they were all saying down their phones, from the hijacked planes and the burning towers. There is only love, and then oblivion. Love was all they had to set against the hatred of their murderers."
- Ian McEwan, after September 11, here.
"Political language is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to the pure wind"
- George Orwell, most famously seen at the beginning of this WikiLeaks video.
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