The name I use is the name I was given. I never had to do what other ethnic kids did. I didn't make my name sound easier. I wasn't a Feyz that became a Francis and I was very proud of that. Always made a point of it in conversation, "I kept my name as it should be" I would say.
I didn't necessarily correct people when they pronounced my name wrong. Though I would inwardly roll my eyes and think "Paaaaah, I can pronounce Paul, and yet they don't have the decency to properly pronounce my name, paaaaaaaah". This personal superiority has recently ended though, I have folded, I have given up and I made my name sound easier.
For this one special place I comprised almost 72% of my values. This special place is the most racist place in the world. This place is any local coffee shop.
Recently I went to a place of hate. I place I hate. This is the kind of coffee shop that doesn't call out your order, but your name. I'm sure the basis of this stupid system is to create a more jovial atmosphere, a way of trying to connect barista with customer. Instead this system leads to the most subtle form of racism! (That's right there IS an exclamation point after that statement).
I went there with my friends Jack, Tom and Deliya.
When Jack ordered his coffee (a regular flat white) he used his name.
When Tom ordered his coffee (a regular long black) he used his name).
BUT
When Deliya ordered her coffee(a Chai latte) she didn’t use her name. Deliya became Amy.
Deliya’s name isn’t Amy. Deliya doesn’t look like an Amy. The name Amy in fcat has absolutely no relation to Deliya. Yet, every time Deliya wants a coffee she isn’t Deliya, she has to become Amy.
Then I realized why I hated this coffee shop. They always sneered when I gave my order. I demanded my name be on the order and amongst the morning disorder I took up four letters of their time. When I saw what Deliya did, I decided to follow suit.
Feyz became Francis. I was bought not for thirty pieces of silver, but for one Jumbo Soy Mocha.
I relented so the sneering would stop. I gave up my name, my identity to assimilate into the coffee line. I hate to say it, but it is what I did.
Showing posts with label Project Next. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Project Next. Show all posts
Monday, May 25, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Starting a War
I am starting a new course of self improvement. I will think like powerful, influential people. I will be happy, and refreshed by what each day brings me.
Every moment is an opportunity.
Every setback an obstacle that teaches me how to jump higher.
Every opportunity is just a dream I had that happened to grow wings.
I will think like this every day.
3 minutes later
I am really bored. Obviously I am very little without my neuroses.
No. I have to stop thinking like that.
I need to do what Future Successful Me would do. So what would Future me do?
*thinking time*
I would probably start a war by invading a country and taking over its governmental institutions. This would get me out of my funk! I wouldn’t invade a country that anybody cares about though. That would be silly. I was thinking of invading Canada.
Reasons why I hate Canada:
• They have a superior social welfare system. It angers me.
• Red and White color scheme. Add some black and I think you’ll find that a swastika will be very comfortable.
• They have a whole region dedicated to French Speakers. Well Ladi-da, you tosspots!
There are other reasons but I will refrain, for I am a good person!
So yes I will invade Canada… that’s really as far as I got.
Part Two: After I invade Canada what I will do.
Disclaimer: Project Next deciders, I would never really invade a country. Except for Canada, I actually would invade the shit out of them.
Every moment is an opportunity.
Every setback an obstacle that teaches me how to jump higher.
Every opportunity is just a dream I had that happened to grow wings.
I will think like this every day.
3 minutes later
I am really bored. Obviously I am very little without my neuroses.
No. I have to stop thinking like that.
I need to do what Future Successful Me would do. So what would Future me do?
*thinking time*
I would probably start a war by invading a country and taking over its governmental institutions. This would get me out of my funk! I wouldn’t invade a country that anybody cares about though. That would be silly. I was thinking of invading Canada.
Reasons why I hate Canada:
• They have a superior social welfare system. It angers me.
• Red and White color scheme. Add some black and I think you’ll find that a swastika will be very comfortable.
• They have a whole region dedicated to French Speakers. Well Ladi-da, you tosspots!
There are other reasons but I will refrain, for I am a good person!
So yes I will invade Canada… that’s really as far as I got.
Part Two: After I invade Canada what I will do.
Disclaimer: Project Next deciders, I would never really invade a country. Except for Canada, I actually would invade the shit out of them.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
I fare thee well Facial Hair
Capitalism is the system that advocates individualism so long as you can buy your originality through merchandise. So capitalism hates beards. Simple fact, although a bearded man is an individual a bearded man also creates a gap in the male grooming market. A bearded man does not have to buy razors, shaving cream or man moisturizer. Instead a bearded man has a beard. A bearded man is a man.
A bearded man though is not a capitalist.
Politics a place previously for men of great beards has instead been replaced by the clean shaved. I blame the communists. If Marx, Castro, Stalin and Guevara had left the beards alone perhaps we would have more beards in our capitalist society. Instead beards were made obligation grooming for those who rally against the middle class. And you cannot get Howard’s Battlers by looking like you are about to rally against the Middle Class. So the idea of a beard in Australian politics has died.
Ironically Peter Garret is a perfect example of this. The man is a hairless mystery. In fact it has always shocked me that in Australia women continue asking for a Brazilian. You could just as easily say a Peter Garrett and everyone would get what you meant.
But I digress.
The most worrying and clearest suggestion that Australia and the world is increasingly becoming a No Beard Zone was last year. Kevin Rudd had mutton chops for a total of one week. Then they were gone, a brief comment was made about Therese disapproving and Australia moved on. I did not. I knew then the Beard and Moustache was dead to Australian politics.
Goodbye Beardy and Tache. You have given us great moments, but your day is gone. One day I hope to reunite you with the faces of Australian men, for now though I salute you.
P.S. If I get onto Project Next I will grow an impressive beard. It will be so lovely that Frida Kahlo would not help herself she would weep... badly.
Thank God, I have made a promise that I know I will not have to keep.
A bearded man though is not a capitalist.
Politics a place previously for men of great beards has instead been replaced by the clean shaved. I blame the communists. If Marx, Castro, Stalin and Guevara had left the beards alone perhaps we would have more beards in our capitalist society. Instead beards were made obligation grooming for those who rally against the middle class. And you cannot get Howard’s Battlers by looking like you are about to rally against the Middle Class. So the idea of a beard in Australian politics has died.
Ironically Peter Garret is a perfect example of this. The man is a hairless mystery. In fact it has always shocked me that in Australia women continue asking for a Brazilian. You could just as easily say a Peter Garrett and everyone would get what you meant.
But I digress.
The most worrying and clearest suggestion that Australia and the world is increasingly becoming a No Beard Zone was last year. Kevin Rudd had mutton chops for a total of one week. Then they were gone, a brief comment was made about Therese disapproving and Australia moved on. I did not. I knew then the Beard and Moustache was dead to Australian politics.
Goodbye Beardy and Tache. You have given us great moments, but your day is gone. One day I hope to reunite you with the faces of Australian men, for now though I salute you.
P.S. If I get onto Project Next I will grow an impressive beard. It will be so lovely that Frida Kahlo would not help herself she would weep... badly.
Thank God, I have made a promise that I know I will not have to keep.
Monday, May 18, 2009
That’s well lush…
I don’t watch a lot of Australian television. I’m not really fond of most of our local productions. So as a result a lot of my television requirements are forced upon the British and the Americans. They make the top-notch productions of which I appreciate.
And I love my programs. I love them a lot. So I watch them a lot.
As a result sometimes I forget that although I watch the programs from both sides of the ‘Pond’ I have no national or rational allegiance to either. My mind knows this, my minds knows that I am neither British/Scottish/Irish/Welsh or American. There is only one problem my voice doesn’t.
I am not particularly good at accents. I tried once and it wasn’t particularly pretty. Though every time I sit down and watch too much television (… every time I watch television), I start talking like a character with a distinctive accent. I start saying words I would usually have no intention of using in a certain context,
I can’t say ‘That’s Good’ I have to say ‘Brilliant’ with a slightly British inflection.
I can’t say ‘Think’ apparently I must say ‘Tink’ like I have just stepped out of my apartment in Dublin.
Sometimes I say Mum, but somehow it sounds like there an ‘O’ has crept in amongst the ‘Ms’ instead of a ‘U’.
This isn’t something that really affects my life on a serious level, but it does cause problems. People look at you funny, people think you are doing it on purpose. It’s hard being me in those situations. So I feel in the range of serious diseases it is at least a semi-affliction. For it definitely rates a mention amongst other mental problems like Arachibutyrophobia and PAEDOPHOBIAP*.
Some may say I am the only one hence the lack of discussion.
But I feel other people suffer from this same malady too. I feel, though, that the sufferers are all trapped by embarrassment. No one wants to admit to the Feyz Syndrome (I have always wanted to name something after myself… what a proud moment). If you admitted to it, people would scoff, they would say “Oh yeah that sounds horrible, divert funds from developing communities in Africa so this nonce** can learn how to speak properly again”.
No instead we are silent victims. We do not speak in fear of scorn… or the fact that our accent may betray us.
*You thought I was going to tell you what these terms mean. Silly you. Are you not acquainted with the internet God’s directive, “Goggle My Children, Google”.
**Perfect example, when have I heard this word in a real life situation? Never.
P.S. Project Next do not be concerned that this personal crusade of mine will affect my office hours. Although a large part of me seeking the job with the national television exposure is to contribute to my cause. I shall not lie about my true intentions.
For a lie poison-eth the tongue, and make-eth the words soiled. (That last bit, well surely you know I have recently been dabbling in some Shakespeare… well Shakespeare in Love… do not mock-eth me!)
And I love my programs. I love them a lot. So I watch them a lot.
As a result sometimes I forget that although I watch the programs from both sides of the ‘Pond’ I have no national or rational allegiance to either. My mind knows this, my minds knows that I am neither British/Scottish/Irish/Welsh or American. There is only one problem my voice doesn’t.
I am not particularly good at accents. I tried once and it wasn’t particularly pretty. Though every time I sit down and watch too much television (… every time I watch television), I start talking like a character with a distinctive accent. I start saying words I would usually have no intention of using in a certain context,
I can’t say ‘That’s Good’ I have to say ‘Brilliant’ with a slightly British inflection.
I can’t say ‘Think’ apparently I must say ‘Tink’ like I have just stepped out of my apartment in Dublin.
Sometimes I say Mum, but somehow it sounds like there an ‘O’ has crept in amongst the ‘Ms’ instead of a ‘U’.
This isn’t something that really affects my life on a serious level, but it does cause problems. People look at you funny, people think you are doing it on purpose. It’s hard being me in those situations. So I feel in the range of serious diseases it is at least a semi-affliction. For it definitely rates a mention amongst other mental problems like Arachibutyrophobia and PAEDOPHOBIAP*.
Some may say I am the only one hence the lack of discussion.
But I feel other people suffer from this same malady too. I feel, though, that the sufferers are all trapped by embarrassment. No one wants to admit to the Feyz Syndrome (I have always wanted to name something after myself… what a proud moment). If you admitted to it, people would scoff, they would say “Oh yeah that sounds horrible, divert funds from developing communities in Africa so this nonce** can learn how to speak properly again”.
No instead we are silent victims. We do not speak in fear of scorn… or the fact that our accent may betray us.
*You thought I was going to tell you what these terms mean. Silly you. Are you not acquainted with the internet God’s directive, “Goggle My Children, Google”.
**Perfect example, when have I heard this word in a real life situation? Never.
P.S. Project Next do not be concerned that this personal crusade of mine will affect my office hours. Although a large part of me seeking the job with the national television exposure is to contribute to my cause. I shall not lie about my true intentions.
For a lie poison-eth the tongue, and make-eth the words soiled. (That last bit, well surely you know I have recently been dabbling in some Shakespeare… well Shakespeare in Love… do not mock-eth me!)
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Solution Solved - You're Welcome Australia
I feel all the controversies relating to sport figures in recent times has a simple solution. Replace them. Not with another set of humans so we could see more tomfoolery. Bah humbug to that. No, instead we replace human athletes with robots. I know what the majority of naysayers are going to respond with, “Don’t be silly, how about when the robots become self aware and start rampaging against us humans when they realize we have held them captive for the purposes of our sick fun and amusement”. Good Point. Actually that is a really good point.
Bloody hell, if the players do anything bad right now at least we can slap them on the wrist. Make them quit their jobs, or at least go to counseling. If we had to deal with killer robots, well there would be no solution. The news wouldn’t be in the headlines, it would be at your front door! The worst bit would be when the robots decide they need more robots. Then they would reproduce, but because they’re robots the gestation period would be like 9 weeks. That’s a lot of robot babies.
Then if there are a lot of them how do we deal with the whole robot infrastructure thing. With ABC Learning Centers closing down right, left and center the current shortage of daycare providers would become worse. Then when robots get to school age do you need separate schools, separate syllabus, or an integrated system. But surely if there was an integrated system then gangs would form amongst the students, creating a whole new cycle of violence.
So, ok no robots.
So we put them in monasteries. If they are not near the ladies, they can’t abuse the ladies. You take away the problem. You force these men who regularly tackle other sweaty muscle men to the ground , so they can writhe around and wrestle as they look for that allusive ‘ball’, do be stuck with other men only. Solution solved. Although do nuns count as ladies. Well they surely do. So that just puts us in another problem. It’s like putting a ewe in the barn with a misbehaving fox.
Oh Okay! I got it, I got it! So my solution is this, get the mascots of each team just to fight with one another. For example, if it’s the Sharks verse the Rabbitohs we see a shark verse a rabbit. No! That’s ridiculous you say, how would a shark fare on land, how would a rabbit fare in water. That’s the genius. If it’s the home game for the Rabbitohs the match is on land, if it is a home match for the sharks then the match is played in water.
The only problem is the Dragons, how the shit am I supposed to find one of those?
P.S. This Project Next team demonstrates how good I am at solving problems. I’m a problem solver, a lot of people would have looked at this situation and would have said ‘It’s impossible’. I say, ‘I relish a challenge’.
Bloody hell, if the players do anything bad right now at least we can slap them on the wrist. Make them quit their jobs, or at least go to counseling. If we had to deal with killer robots, well there would be no solution. The news wouldn’t be in the headlines, it would be at your front door! The worst bit would be when the robots decide they need more robots. Then they would reproduce, but because they’re robots the gestation period would be like 9 weeks. That’s a lot of robot babies.
Then if there are a lot of them how do we deal with the whole robot infrastructure thing. With ABC Learning Centers closing down right, left and center the current shortage of daycare providers would become worse. Then when robots get to school age do you need separate schools, separate syllabus, or an integrated system. But surely if there was an integrated system then gangs would form amongst the students, creating a whole new cycle of violence.
So, ok no robots.
So we put them in monasteries. If they are not near the ladies, they can’t abuse the ladies. You take away the problem. You force these men who regularly tackle other sweaty muscle men to the ground , so they can writhe around and wrestle as they look for that allusive ‘ball’, do be stuck with other men only. Solution solved. Although do nuns count as ladies. Well they surely do. So that just puts us in another problem. It’s like putting a ewe in the barn with a misbehaving fox.
Oh Okay! I got it, I got it! So my solution is this, get the mascots of each team just to fight with one another. For example, if it’s the Sharks verse the Rabbitohs we see a shark verse a rabbit. No! That’s ridiculous you say, how would a shark fare on land, how would a rabbit fare in water. That’s the genius. If it’s the home game for the Rabbitohs the match is on land, if it is a home match for the sharks then the match is played in water.
The only problem is the Dragons, how the shit am I supposed to find one of those?
P.S. This Project Next team demonstrates how good I am at solving problems. I’m a problem solver, a lot of people would have looked at this situation and would have said ‘It’s impossible’. I say, ‘I relish a challenge’.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Terrorism - is now – no longer an option
Last night I watched the film ‘The Bornhoffen Mistakes’*, and I realized that my life-long dream of being a conceptual artist/terrorist is unfortunately unable to proceed. Apparently terrorists have to be amazingly good looking. Not good looking in the sense that they have such an abundance of charisma and sense of danger that they become good looking. They need to be super good looking. Like I mean ‘blow things up on Saturday’ and then ‘model a nice set of woollen jumpers for a fancy catalogue on Monday’- good looking.
I could maybe manage modelling the before shot in a before and after advertisement. Maybe.
Plus to be a terrorist apparently you have to be uber-cool. So cool - that when you bathe - you take a bath not a shower, lest the awesomeness simply wash off and go down the drain. You have to view everyone else as being constrained by their bourgeoisie/imperialist constructed middle-class morality, which you are so above.
You have to spout long lines about how the revolution is coming and about how certain things are keeping us captors. How money drugs us. How fashion brainwashes us. Blah blah blah, something Mao said. Blah blah blah something Che said. Blah blah blah followed by big boom, followed by more blah blah blah.
It looks like a lot of wank followed by some fire and running around.
So disappointed. Being a person of Middle-Eastern heritage becoming a terrorist has long been a dream of mine. I had even been shopping around for a certain organisation. Now I have taken what was previously my shortlist and thrown it in the bin. Terrorism does not look fun enough. Oh and all that killing looks horrific.
So this Project Next thing better work out, either that or I am throwing myself into ballet.
*The film is actually called The Baader Meinhof Complex, but I can’t and I shan’t remember that. So the film is ‘The Bornhoffen Mistakes’.
P.S. ASIO this was a blog for funny. I know someone in some dingy office is shaking their head and saying terrorism is never funny. How true, I say, how true. Or they maybe saying I’m not funny. . How true, I say, how true. Just please whatever you do ASIO, don’t arrest me. I’m too charismatic for prison, I would inevitably cause a riot causing tax-payers in these tough economic times to foot an extraordinary bill. I wouldn't be able to help it, I'm just that good at inspiring people.
I could maybe manage modelling the before shot in a before and after advertisement. Maybe.
Plus to be a terrorist apparently you have to be uber-cool. So cool - that when you bathe - you take a bath not a shower, lest the awesomeness simply wash off and go down the drain. You have to view everyone else as being constrained by their bourgeoisie/imperialist constructed middle-class morality, which you are so above.
You have to spout long lines about how the revolution is coming and about how certain things are keeping us captors. How money drugs us. How fashion brainwashes us. Blah blah blah, something Mao said. Blah blah blah something Che said. Blah blah blah followed by big boom, followed by more blah blah blah.
It looks like a lot of wank followed by some fire and running around.
So disappointed. Being a person of Middle-Eastern heritage becoming a terrorist has long been a dream of mine. I had even been shopping around for a certain organisation. Now I have taken what was previously my shortlist and thrown it in the bin. Terrorism does not look fun enough. Oh and all that killing looks horrific.
So this Project Next thing better work out, either that or I am throwing myself into ballet.
*The film is actually called The Baader Meinhof Complex, but I can’t and I shan’t remember that. So the film is ‘The Bornhoffen Mistakes’.
P.S. ASIO this was a blog for funny. I know someone in some dingy office is shaking their head and saying terrorism is never funny. How true, I say, how true. Or they maybe saying I’m not funny. . How true, I say, how true. Just please whatever you do ASIO, don’t arrest me. I’m too charismatic for prison, I would inevitably cause a riot causing tax-payers in these tough economic times to foot an extraordinary bill. I wouldn't be able to help it, I'm just that good at inspiring people.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Racism is Bad, so very Bad...
I cannot say much. So I will say this.
Gruen Transfer is in trouble about racism
+
Gruen Transfer is a Zapruder Production
=
ABC and Zapruder bigotry
Therefore Feyz says BOOO! BOOOO! Outraged! Outraged! Never will watch… Won’t buy… Won’t support…
ABC and Zapruder Bigotory
+
Hiring Ethnic person on another Zapruder Production
=
PR Solution solved
Therefore Feyz should get a job on Project Next as penance for racism.
Therefore solution solved!
P.S. I know Zapruder was very respectful of the situation. And Feyz would like to say the views represented in this blog in no way represent her own.
Gruen Transfer is in trouble about racism
+
Gruen Transfer is a Zapruder Production
=
ABC and Zapruder bigotry
Therefore Feyz says BOOO! BOOOO! Outraged! Outraged! Never will watch… Won’t buy… Won’t support…
ABC and Zapruder Bigotory
+
Hiring Ethnic person on another Zapruder Production
=
PR Solution solved
Therefore Feyz should get a job on Project Next as penance for racism.
Therefore solution solved!
P.S. I know Zapruder was very respectful of the situation. And Feyz would like to say the views represented in this blog in no way represent her own.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Why I am exactly like Billy Elliot.
I just watched that Billy Elliot again for the first time in two years. As a result I have decided I do not need this Project Next thing. Instead I will pursue my original dream, I will become a ballerina.
Reasons why I should forget about everything else and just become a ballerina (like my hero Billy Elliot):
• I would look fantastic in a tutu.
• I need to lose weight, and wearing lycra on a daily basis would give me a semi-serious eating disorder (hurrah!)
• I would be constantly surrounded by very well-maintained male physics. Very well maintained physics that would only be clothed with a very clingy pair of tights.
• I would have a legitimate reason to randomly say wanky sounding French things (TRES BIEN! NON?)
• I would get so much attention.
They aren’t necessarily the best reasons for wanting to be a ballerina, but if all my dreams and hopes are crushed by this whole Project Next thing at least I have something to fall back onto.
Next time, on ‘The Blog’: Why watching Mighty Ducks taught me that I was supposed to be an ice hockey player…
Reasons why I should forget about everything else and just become a ballerina (like my hero Billy Elliot):
• I would look fantastic in a tutu.
• I need to lose weight, and wearing lycra on a daily basis would give me a semi-serious eating disorder (hurrah!)
• I would be constantly surrounded by very well-maintained male physics. Very well maintained physics that would only be clothed with a very clingy pair of tights.
• I would have a legitimate reason to randomly say wanky sounding French things (TRES BIEN! NON?)
• I would get so much attention.
They aren’t necessarily the best reasons for wanting to be a ballerina, but if all my dreams and hopes are crushed by this whole Project Next thing at least I have something to fall back onto.
Next time, on ‘The Blog’: Why watching Mighty Ducks taught me that I was supposed to be an ice hockey player…
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Unleash the Crazy...
(While writing most of this my internet was very much not on a programming level. Obviously now that I have posted this my internet has re-connected. This is my journey without the internet.
This is the horror,
This is the demise,
This is a story of my boredom.)
7:02am => Wake-up.
7:32am => Wake-up again.
7:39am=> Wake-up again.
8:00am => Emerge from bathroom sparklier and emptier.
8:00 (and 32 seconds)am=> Go to study, switch on internet.
8:03am=> Internet not connected. Full blown panic.
8:09am=> Told to wait two hours, internet service provider problems in NSW.
8:14am=> Go out to buy breakfast. Cannot be close to my laptop. Cannot bring myself to explain to my laptop that it is partially disabled. Choose to avoid situation. Choose to go out. Promise to buy laptop a Get Well muffin.
8:20am to 11:30am=> Breakfast. See Friend I have not seen for a long time. Excitement, followed by awkward conversation. Go home. Approach home. See that someone is fixing broken line that was damaged in January. I am happy that it is finally being fixed.
11:34am=> WE HAVE LIFTOFF! Internet is working. Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!
11:37am=> Internet stops working. Loud noise from construction crew outside my house.
11:45am=> Construction worker approaches house. Says something to me.
11:50am=> Awake from anger blackout covered in blood.
11:52am=> Drag body of construction worker into my house, and cover it with a blanket.
11:55am=> Add Googling ‘How to Get Rid of a Body’ to my list of things to do.
Noon=> Internet still not working.
12:05pm=> Body of construction worker starts moaning. I am v. relived. I will not be charged with manslaughter after all.
12:10pm=> Construction worker awakes, is v. confused. I tell him he tripped, he seems fooled by my lie.
12:14pm=> He tells me everything should be fixed by about 3pm this afternoon.
12:18pm=> Message my Bro-in-Law. Ask him to tell me whether I have received any emails (specifically an email from the Project Next people, telling me anything yet).
12:19pm=> Get a message back from Bro-in-Law. He tells me, he is working, and that he has no time to pander to my eccentricities.
12:20pm=> Break all Bro-in-Law’s possessions that he has stored at our house. Only leave ugly vase Sissy got him.
12:22pm=> Try and repair Bro-in-Law’s possessions.
12:30pm=> Give up trying to fix Bro-in-Law’s possessions. Add sending him an ‘I’m Sorry’ e-card to my To Do List.
1pm=> Spend the last half and hour deciding I cannot do assignments without internet.
1:10pm=> Decide on a nap/ lunch break.
1:16pm=> Fall asleep.
3pm=> Wake-up.
This is the horror,
This is the demise,
This is a story of my boredom.)
7:02am => Wake-up.
7:32am => Wake-up again.
7:39am=> Wake-up again.
8:00am => Emerge from bathroom sparklier and emptier.
8:00 (and 32 seconds)am=> Go to study, switch on internet.
8:03am=> Internet not connected. Full blown panic.
8:09am=> Told to wait two hours, internet service provider problems in NSW.
8:14am=> Go out to buy breakfast. Cannot be close to my laptop. Cannot bring myself to explain to my laptop that it is partially disabled. Choose to avoid situation. Choose to go out. Promise to buy laptop a Get Well muffin.
8:20am to 11:30am=> Breakfast. See Friend I have not seen for a long time. Excitement, followed by awkward conversation. Go home. Approach home. See that someone is fixing broken line that was damaged in January. I am happy that it is finally being fixed.
11:34am=> WE HAVE LIFTOFF! Internet is working. Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!
11:37am=> Internet stops working. Loud noise from construction crew outside my house.
11:45am=> Construction worker approaches house. Says something to me.
11:50am=> Awake from anger blackout covered in blood.
11:52am=> Drag body of construction worker into my house, and cover it with a blanket.
11:55am=> Add Googling ‘How to Get Rid of a Body’ to my list of things to do.
Noon=> Internet still not working.
12:05pm=> Body of construction worker starts moaning. I am v. relived. I will not be charged with manslaughter after all.
12:10pm=> Construction worker awakes, is v. confused. I tell him he tripped, he seems fooled by my lie.
12:14pm=> He tells me everything should be fixed by about 3pm this afternoon.
12:18pm=> Message my Bro-in-Law. Ask him to tell me whether I have received any emails (specifically an email from the Project Next people, telling me anything yet).
12:19pm=> Get a message back from Bro-in-Law. He tells me, he is working, and that he has no time to pander to my eccentricities.
12:20pm=> Break all Bro-in-Law’s possessions that he has stored at our house. Only leave ugly vase Sissy got him.
12:22pm=> Try and repair Bro-in-Law’s possessions.
12:30pm=> Give up trying to fix Bro-in-Law’s possessions. Add sending him an ‘I’m Sorry’ e-card to my To Do List.
1pm=> Spend the last half and hour deciding I cannot do assignments without internet.
1:10pm=> Decide on a nap/ lunch break.
1:16pm=> Fall asleep.
3pm=> Wake-up.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Swine Flu: Is this Project Next thing all just a delusional symptom?
I have two theories about Swine-itus. One theory is that it is actually a very good conspiracy theory that shall be soon cracked. I have a few theories that I would like to contribute though, while we are conspiring:
DIGRESSION => Swine Flu – The Truth:
1. Mexico is currently experiencing a Zombie outbreak. So as to not alarm the world population international leaders have concocted the idea of an influenza pandemic. For which is more fearful, the undead returning or a bad cold with a funny name? That’s right crisis averted.
2. Obama is an ethnic President. The Mexicans are expecting him to open the borders. He can’t and he won’t. So how does one get out of such a conundrum, you quarantine a nation. You exaggerate the winter cold and then boom. You don’t lose the hearts and minds of the third biggest voting demographic in your country and you don’t have to deal with a bunch of pesky poor people applying for visas.
3. This is all a part of a peace plan for Palestine and Israel. Unite Muslims and Jews by making them laugh at non-believers and goys for eating swine products or interacting with swine products and then no more Boom.
4. Crazy socialists and Orwell were right when they made comparisons between capitalists and pigs. With the GFC and the Swine Flu quickly following one another, one can’t help but think that maybe… just maybe the illness that has infected the Global economy has mutated and become a viral infection. I’m just saying.
a. CONSPIRACY THEORY IN SEMI-SIMILAR VEIN: The crazy socialists and Orwellians have made Swine Flu and spread it, so as to further associate Swine with Capitalism. Those crazy Communists….
Though my other theory (which is not so much a broad conspiracy theory) is that I have swine flu. In fact I was the first person with swine flu. More than that I have had Swine Flu since the 30th of March, 2009 when someone called me up to inform me I was shortlisted for a job I could have only previously fantasized about having.
That in this constant state of delusion:
I also believe that I went to an interview.
I got emails from the production company for this project.
And that I recently got correspondence that tells me that all will be revealed in two-three weeks.
Or I am not delusional. I just have talent.
…
Yup, Nooo it’s Swine Flu. Goodbye then fair world. You have treated me moderately.
DIGRESSION => Swine Flu – The Truth:
1. Mexico is currently experiencing a Zombie outbreak. So as to not alarm the world population international leaders have concocted the idea of an influenza pandemic. For which is more fearful, the undead returning or a bad cold with a funny name? That’s right crisis averted.
2. Obama is an ethnic President. The Mexicans are expecting him to open the borders. He can’t and he won’t. So how does one get out of such a conundrum, you quarantine a nation. You exaggerate the winter cold and then boom. You don’t lose the hearts and minds of the third biggest voting demographic in your country and you don’t have to deal with a bunch of pesky poor people applying for visas.
3. This is all a part of a peace plan for Palestine and Israel. Unite Muslims and Jews by making them laugh at non-believers and goys for eating swine products or interacting with swine products and then no more Boom.
4. Crazy socialists and Orwell were right when they made comparisons between capitalists and pigs. With the GFC and the Swine Flu quickly following one another, one can’t help but think that maybe… just maybe the illness that has infected the Global economy has mutated and become a viral infection. I’m just saying.
a. CONSPIRACY THEORY IN SEMI-SIMILAR VEIN: The crazy socialists and Orwellians have made Swine Flu and spread it, so as to further associate Swine with Capitalism. Those crazy Communists….
Though my other theory (which is not so much a broad conspiracy theory) is that I have swine flu. In fact I was the first person with swine flu. More than that I have had Swine Flu since the 30th of March, 2009 when someone called me up to inform me I was shortlisted for a job I could have only previously fantasized about having.
That in this constant state of delusion:
I also believe that I went to an interview.
I got emails from the production company for this project.
And that I recently got correspondence that tells me that all will be revealed in two-three weeks.
Or I am not delusional. I just have talent.
…
Yup, Nooo it’s Swine Flu. Goodbye then fair world. You have treated me moderately.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Life lessons from an adolescent.
I have not been on this earth many years. In fact I have only been on this earth for 19 years, yet with only that little time I think I have learnt some important lessons.
1. Don’t make fast movements around paranoid people. They will analyze it for hours and then respond badly.
2. You are not a racist so long as you have token friends.
3. If you want more space in a busy public place yell the following things: ‘Bee, a bee just stung me’, ‘Jesus is coming to judge you sinners’, ‘Beeeeep, beeeeeeeeeep, poopy fish’.
4. Telling old people they smell like death will not get you in their will.
5. Never ask a public servant if they find their job fulfilling.
6. If you are Middle-Eastern do not act too emotional at airports, it will lead to negative attention.
7. Your girlfriends aren’t that happy for you.
8. Never question the knowledge of a stupid person on a specific subject. It is probably the only thing they know fully, so they will be very sure about it and fighting with them will be futile.
9. Everyone has a deeply racist/crazy grandparent.
10. If in doubt, Google.
11. If you do not want to do something at the workplace/educational institution cite religious reasons.
12. Never believe anything a hypochondriac is telling you.
13. Never try and outdo your pretty friend in the looks department. Embrace your frumpiness and dress comfortably.
14. Do not buy sushi from the side of the road.
15. You will not get a letter from Hogwarts when you are eleven.
16. Do not assume an Asian person is Chinese. You may get a slap.
17. People do not care about another person’s dreams
18. … Follow your dreams…
19. Do not apply for a job you really want. Waiting for a response will be akin to torture.
1. Don’t make fast movements around paranoid people. They will analyze it for hours and then respond badly.
2. You are not a racist so long as you have token friends.
3. If you want more space in a busy public place yell the following things: ‘Bee, a bee just stung me’, ‘Jesus is coming to judge you sinners’, ‘Beeeeep, beeeeeeeeeep, poopy fish’.
4. Telling old people they smell like death will not get you in their will.
5. Never ask a public servant if they find their job fulfilling.
6. If you are Middle-Eastern do not act too emotional at airports, it will lead to negative attention.
7. Your girlfriends aren’t that happy for you.
8. Never question the knowledge of a stupid person on a specific subject. It is probably the only thing they know fully, so they will be very sure about it and fighting with them will be futile.
9. Everyone has a deeply racist/crazy grandparent.
10. If in doubt, Google.
11. If you do not want to do something at the workplace/educational institution cite religious reasons.
12. Never believe anything a hypochondriac is telling you.
13. Never try and outdo your pretty friend in the looks department. Embrace your frumpiness and dress comfortably.
14. Do not buy sushi from the side of the road.
15. You will not get a letter from Hogwarts when you are eleven.
16. Do not assume an Asian person is Chinese. You may get a slap.
17. People do not care about another person’s dreams
18. … Follow your dreams…
19. Do not apply for a job you really want. Waiting for a response will be akin to torture.
Monday, May 4, 2009
An Opportunity without a Chance
To prepare myself for my own vortex of never-ending despair I have stock piled all the things I will need to get me through.
These things are:
Tissues – some are for crying. The others are for mixing with water to make myself a Tissue – Mache hat, for when I get bored in the very lonely place I will take myself to.
Torch - so that I can always remember the light in my time of darkness; and also so I can shine a light on the wall and play shadow puppets.
Tea-bags – inevitably I will be crying hot-salty tears. This will dehydrate me. So I will collect all those tears then dip in tea-bags, re-digest and hey presto, tasty hydration. Some say make lemonade out of lemons, I say make tea from tears.
Tools – there will be a moment in my anger and self-loathing where I will think I shall live in this angry moment forever. I need the necessary tools to dig myself out of this. Tools like confidence, passion and a shovel.
Television – I will watch a lot of this. Nothing more. I will just watch a lot.
All these things start with T. T is the 20th letter of the alphabet, therefore, I think it will take me 20 years to get over this horrible rejection.
In that time I could have had a family, found true love, studied for multiple degrees.
Instead I will wallow. All because someone gave me an opportunity of a lifetime. Good one dickheads.
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