Yes folks, it’s nearly Christmas, with all the usual fun and festivities associated therein.
While some like to think of Christmas as a time of sharing and caring, it’s rather more like a time of loose lips and hot tips. As people enjoy some Christmas spirits (and anyone in Cooma would know I’ve enjoyed plenty of those so far this month), they’re also enjoying the spread of these nasty things called rumours and gossip.
These are rather unfortunately unavoidable. You can sit in your corner, say nothing, and still have some slack-jawed gossip make stuff up about you.
Indeed, one place I’ve worked at had the local gum-chewers working overtime before they’d even got a chance to figure out what my failings were.
It’s rather easy to start a rumour.
All you have to do is to make a comment about someone - framing it like a hypothetical or rhetorical question - to the right person. If you talk to the right person, they’ll take it as a statement of fact, spreading it like warm butter along the whole loaf of bread that is their community.
Among my personal favourites are that I’m gay (straight as a ruler), my parents are in some way related (only because at one stage they were married), and that I hated rugby league (please note any number of previous posts).
But they’re not too bad. If nothing else, you learn who your friends are - they tend to ask first, whereas others just like to snigger behind your back.
Actually, it’s the whole behind-the-back thing that really gives me the runs (not just in cricket either).
Granted, there are always going to be times where you need to blow off steam about someone to someone else. This can be rather beneficial, as person number 3 may be able to offer some kind of alternate insight into what’s bothering you.
But going around telling everyone that someone is incompetent/an arsehole/a right royal prick because of one thing or another - while still being "nice" to their face - is just plain wrong.
We’re all guilty of this - including myself on more than five occasions - but I still see no real reason for it.
In a business it can cut down morale quicker than timber workers in the Amazon, in a family it can break up a group of people you should really try to get along with anyway, and in a volunteer group it can really f^%k it right up for everybody and everything.
Anyways, that’s my rant for the time being. Here’s hoping you all have a safe and fun Christmas and New Year, without getting hit by a bus. That hurts apparently.
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Monday, December 13, 2004
I was drunk, needed the money...
As promised earlier on in the piece, here are some more tips and tricks of the trade that I've picked up in my 20-odd years of existence. Enjoy.
Nice guys don't finish last.
They don't finish first either. Nope, nice guys will generally finish in the minor placings. This sounds all well and good, but ask Geelong Cats or North Sydney Bears fans what it's like to just miss out on the major prize...
Learn the words to some songs.
Every self-respecting Australian planning to travel should know the words to Khe Sanh, Down Under, and I Still Call Australia Home. This is not optional.
Optional songs you can learn include Working Class Man, (You Shook Me) All Night Long, Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again (or at least the chant) and Advance Australia Fair.
Note I haven't included Waltzing Matilda. You should know the words to this already. If you don't know the words to this, there are support groups available (I Don't Know The Words To Waltzing Matilda Anonymous (IDKTWTWMA) is a good start).
Reputations count.
To a point. In the Big Smoke, you can have any kind of a reputation, but can hide away in one of the many niches around the place until it's changed.
In country areas though, once you've got a reputation, you're stuck with it.
And remember, first impressions count - so if you've got a reputation as a bit of a Romeo or as the town bike - you're stuck with it for a very long period of time.
The only way to avoid this is to get the hell out of town, or maintain a quiet dignity. But they'll probably get you for that anyway.
I'm from Queensland.
But that doesn’t mean I support the Brisbane Broncos. In fact, I support pretty much every national sporting league team from Queensland - so long as they’re not the Broncos.
I don’t know why I dislike them so much - but gee it was good to see North Queensland beat them last year. Soooooooo gooooood...
This is all highly unoriginal, but a chap by the name of John Saffron beat us all to it when he wrote Not The Sunscreen Song.
But hey - who cares?
Nice guys don't finish last.
They don't finish first either. Nope, nice guys will generally finish in the minor placings. This sounds all well and good, but ask Geelong Cats or North Sydney Bears fans what it's like to just miss out on the major prize...
Learn the words to some songs.
Every self-respecting Australian planning to travel should know the words to Khe Sanh, Down Under, and I Still Call Australia Home. This is not optional.
Optional songs you can learn include Working Class Man, (You Shook Me) All Night Long, Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again (or at least the chant) and Advance Australia Fair.
Note I haven't included Waltzing Matilda. You should know the words to this already. If you don't know the words to this, there are support groups available (I Don't Know The Words To Waltzing Matilda Anonymous (IDKTWTWMA) is a good start).
Reputations count.
To a point. In the Big Smoke, you can have any kind of a reputation, but can hide away in one of the many niches around the place until it's changed.
In country areas though, once you've got a reputation, you're stuck with it.
And remember, first impressions count - so if you've got a reputation as a bit of a Romeo or as the town bike - you're stuck with it for a very long period of time.
The only way to avoid this is to get the hell out of town, or maintain a quiet dignity. But they'll probably get you for that anyway.
I'm from Queensland.
But that doesn’t mean I support the Brisbane Broncos. In fact, I support pretty much every national sporting league team from Queensland - so long as they’re not the Broncos.
I don’t know why I dislike them so much - but gee it was good to see North Queensland beat them last year. Soooooooo gooooood...
This is all highly unoriginal, but a chap by the name of John Saffron beat us all to it when he wrote Not The Sunscreen Song.
But hey - who cares?
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Take the money and run...
ANOTHER year is coming to a screeching close - much to my disgust.
As someone with a December birthday it’s only natural that it happens to be my favourite month. How often do you get birthday, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, cricket and warm (drinking) weather in the one month?
This year was a little different - I’ve now reached what is known as the Mid-Twenties. (Coincidentally the top temps here in Cooma are also just reaching the Mid-Twenties).
But as someone who’s now (allegedly) moved on from the wasteful behaviour of the Late Teens and Early Twenties, I feel it only right that I pass on these small chunks of information to the rest of you in the vain hope you might actually pay attention.
So here are my top tips (in no particular order) about life, the universe and everything.
Music is good.
Let’s face it, there’s nothing better than to kick back on a day off, chuck a favourite cd/album/mp3/tape on and just relax.
But wait - there’s more.
You can put it on in the car to stop you from going stir-crazy on long trips, you can dance to it, and you can put it on at work and listen to Fleetwood Mac and Crowded House instead of the staff bitching.
Alcohol impairs your judgement.
Really. Honest and truly. How else to explain why women would want to go out with me?
Jokes aside, who hasn’t woken up with the sinking feeling they’ve quite seriously f___ed up? Sometimes it’s immediately obvious - they’re in the bed with you wanting breakfast, sometimes it’s the pounding head and mutinous stomach, and sometimes it’s your boxer shorts on the roof.
This leads to a little game I like to call "What Did I Do Last Night?", or in some cases the always-funny "Who Did I Do Last Night?".
Of course most people will play these games at one stage, so when it’s your turn, remember to smile.
Microsoft is useful. To a point.
After that point, it’s just a pain in the arse.
In my own profession it’s vitally important to make sure spelling and grammar are correct. As such, the little green squiggly lines often come up to alert me of a potential problem.
The problem is when they alert me to something I didn’t want, like a missing "that", as opposed to some other more obvious problems, like no full stop at the end of a sentence.
Likewise trying to get the right answer when you use that annoying bloody paper clip for help. I think I’d rather take my chances asking Mr Ed.
Some men have "it".
The rest of us don’t.
Of course, if anyone can actually figure out what "it" is, could they please post a comment at the bottom of this page and let the rest of us poor souls in on the secret.
Karaoke takes balls.
It’s also very dangerous when the silly bugger running the machine decides to give you an easy seven or eight songs in a row, including at least one by AC/DC.
This will leave you with a rather dry throat and a croaky voice for the rest of the week (which is a good reason to only do it at the end of the week).
Drinking more alcohol won’t help - it makes your voice worse. On the upside though, more grog can lead to some very interesting performances, especially of Joe Cocker’s Leave Your Hat On.
There’s more than this - but I’ll add those at a later stage in the space/time continuum.
Please note I've finally figured out how to limit the number of posts on the front page. If you want to read previous posts, click on the "Previous Posts" section on the right of the screen. If you don't want to read previous posts, it doesn't matter now does it?
As someone with a December birthday it’s only natural that it happens to be my favourite month. How often do you get birthday, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, cricket and warm (drinking) weather in the one month?
This year was a little different - I’ve now reached what is known as the Mid-Twenties. (Coincidentally the top temps here in Cooma are also just reaching the Mid-Twenties).
But as someone who’s now (allegedly) moved on from the wasteful behaviour of the Late Teens and Early Twenties, I feel it only right that I pass on these small chunks of information to the rest of you in the vain hope you might actually pay attention.
So here are my top tips (in no particular order) about life, the universe and everything.
Music is good.
Let’s face it, there’s nothing better than to kick back on a day off, chuck a favourite cd/album/mp3/tape on and just relax.
But wait - there’s more.
You can put it on in the car to stop you from going stir-crazy on long trips, you can dance to it, and you can put it on at work and listen to Fleetwood Mac and Crowded House instead of the staff bitching.
Alcohol impairs your judgement.
Really. Honest and truly. How else to explain why women would want to go out with me?
Jokes aside, who hasn’t woken up with the sinking feeling they’ve quite seriously f___ed up? Sometimes it’s immediately obvious - they’re in the bed with you wanting breakfast, sometimes it’s the pounding head and mutinous stomach, and sometimes it’s your boxer shorts on the roof.
This leads to a little game I like to call "What Did I Do Last Night?", or in some cases the always-funny "Who Did I Do Last Night?".
Of course most people will play these games at one stage, so when it’s your turn, remember to smile.
Microsoft is useful. To a point.
After that point, it’s just a pain in the arse.
In my own profession it’s vitally important to make sure spelling and grammar are correct. As such, the little green squiggly lines often come up to alert me of a potential problem.
The problem is when they alert me to something I didn’t want, like a missing "that", as opposed to some other more obvious problems, like no full stop at the end of a sentence.
Likewise trying to get the right answer when you use that annoying bloody paper clip for help. I think I’d rather take my chances asking Mr Ed.
Some men have "it".
The rest of us don’t.
Of course, if anyone can actually figure out what "it" is, could they please post a comment at the bottom of this page and let the rest of us poor souls in on the secret.
Karaoke takes balls.
It’s also very dangerous when the silly bugger running the machine decides to give you an easy seven or eight songs in a row, including at least one by AC/DC.
This will leave you with a rather dry throat and a croaky voice for the rest of the week (which is a good reason to only do it at the end of the week).
Drinking more alcohol won’t help - it makes your voice worse. On the upside though, more grog can lead to some very interesting performances, especially of Joe Cocker’s Leave Your Hat On.
There’s more than this - but I’ll add those at a later stage in the space/time continuum.
Please note I've finally figured out how to limit the number of posts on the front page. If you want to read previous posts, click on the "Previous Posts" section on the right of the screen. If you don't want to read previous posts, it doesn't matter now does it?
Sunday, December 05, 2004
Listen to the music
Please allow me to introduce myself,
I'm a man of wealth and taste...
Actually, I'm only one of those two, and that is a matter under much discussion. But what better way to kick off a column about music than with the Rolling Stones Sympathy For The Devil.
Music is one of those things that can reach us in very different ways. Some like to music to dance to, some like music for background, some like music to put them in a certain mood.
There are some songs that, for one reason or another, stay in the memory for a long time. Sometimes there's no real reason, but quite often the real beauty behind these songs is the lyrics contained within.
Guess there are times when we all need to share a little pain,
And ironing out the rough spots,
Is the hardest part when memories remain,
And it's times like these when we all need to hear the radio,
'Cause from the lips of some old singer,
We can share the troubles we already know.
Bernie Taupin wrote the lyrics, Elton John the music as well as the performance of Sad Songs (Say So Much).
As would be expected, there are a lot of songs that deal with heartbreak, ask the big questions, yada yada yada. Not all of these apply to everyone - I can't say I can relate to half the soppy stuff that comes out - but which male hasn't asked himself Is She Really Going Out With Him?, as so memorably sung by Joe Jackson and Sugar Ray.
After a breakup there are a number of "revenge" songs about how someone is better off without you really and why the dickens did I ever bother going out with you? For matching malice and profanities you really can't go past Eamon and Frankee's F___ It (I Don't Want You Back) and F___ You Right Back.
As someone with a little more class (allegedly), my own preference is for songs like Amiel's Lovesong or Pete Murray's So Beautiful.
God my fingers burn,
Now when I think of touching your hair,
You have changed so much that I don't know,
If I can call you and tell you I care,
And I would love to bring you down,
Plant your feet back on the ground,
You think you're so beautiful (so beautiful)...
There are other songs though. One song that never fails to touch home is Redgum's I Was Only 19 (A Walk In The Light Green). The song was based on the experience of a Vietnam vet, with the lyrics telling a story better than any tv show ever could.
Another Vietnam War song is Cold Chisel's Khe Sanh. While telling the story of a Vietnam vet who made it back, there's a part somewhere in the lyrics that most people can relate to. A catchy chorus helps as well.
There are other popular songs that we relate to - two old favourites are the Counting Crows' Mr Jones and Train's Drops Of Jupiter (Tell Me).
Mr Jones and me tell each other fairytales,
And we stare at the beautiful women,
"She's looking at you - I don't think so, she's looking at me",
Smiling in the bright lights,
Coming through in stereo,
When everybody loves you, you can never be lonely...
___________________________________________
Tell me, did you sail across the sun,
Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded,
That heaven is overrated,
Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star,
One without a permanent scar,
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?
All very meaningful really, and all relevant at one stage in the past.
But for those of you who have had the fortitude to hang around, the final two songs for today are ones that really do sum it all up.
Got the motor running, got the rest of my days,
Sold everything I owned for a song,
So anytime you want babe, you can come around,
But don't leave it too late, you just might find me gone...
Cold Chisel's Bow River is a classic, as is this one:
Some things in life are bad,
They can really make you mad,
Other things just make you swear and curse,
When you're chewing on life's gristle,
Don't grumble, give a whistle,
And this'll help things turn out for the best...
And...
Always look on the bright side of life,
Always look on the light side of life,
If life seems jolly rotten,
There's something you've forgotten,
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing,
When you're feeling in the dumps,
Don't be silly chumps,
Just purse your lips and whistle, that's the thing...
Monty Python's Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life. A classic, and where we end today's show.
Friday, November 26, 2004
The joys of summer
IT’S summer again, and a young man’s thoughts turn to flights of fancy - anything fancy will do actually.
Yes ladies and gentlemen, it’s the time of year when the tv and radio are taken over by "more bloody cricket", people try to make themselves go brown and men enjoy the freedom of movement enjoyed by women in their summer clothes.
Ah, women. For every joke they have about us being ignorant, dumb bastards, we’ve got ones back - although we dare not repeat them in polite company. Some call this cowardice, I call it life-preservation.
How different are the sexes? Are all males just compulsive oglers, only thinking with their stomachs and what hangs off it, proof the evolution can go backwards? Are those of us blessed with the Y chromosome only blessed with an ability to reverse-park and drink excessive amounts of alcohol? And what about those bloody women?
So strap in gentlemen, as we go through the type of women you’re likely to come across (in Australia at least).
The ANTI-SOCIAL woman
Actually, she’s not all that anti-social - she loves going out for a few with her friends and enjoying what life throws at her. This is wonderful, as it gives a couple time apart - but woe betide the poor fool who tries to do the same.
Any gentleman shacked up with one of these women and comes home smelling of beer or ciggies will cop it from both barrels (sometimes literally rather than metaphorically).
The only way to have a relatively peaceful night out is to fill out Form 1080A (Application for Night’s Leave). This may or may not be approved - but if you haven’t filled out one of these for a while, why not try for Form 1080B (Application for Time Away).
Please note this kind of woman will not, under any circumstances, approve Form 1046 (Application for a Gold Pass).
The GAMES woman
The only thing you’re guaranteed with this woman is that she’ll try to mess with your head.
The type of game she likes to play tends to vary a bit - from the always fun "On Again/Off Again" game, to the ever-popular "You Don’t Pay Me Enough Attention So I’m Going To Flirt With Every Male Here". This game is even more fun when she decides to flirt with your best mate. And the silly bugger flirts back.
There is good news though blokes - this kind of woman generally ends up with a bloke who does the same thing to her. Who said karma doesn’t apply?
The QUIET woman
These are the ones you have to watch out for. The quiet, peaceful soul by day could turn out to be Mr Hyde’s evil sister by night. Or not.
Quiet women are really hard to read, as they just keep it all inside, storing it up until it all comes out - just like a really bad volcano actually.
There would be more information about this kind of woman, but our spy is currently in hospital suffering third-degree burns to most of his body from molten hot lava. Experts say it’s the first injury of its kind seen in Australia.
The DRINKING woman
Hey, this is what we’re after! Isn’t it? A woman to come out and enjoy the wonders of alcohol with you?
Sadly, no. Just as men become more like women when they drink (talk excessively without making sense, argue over nothing, can’t drive), women become more like men when they drink. Think biffoes, brawls, and lots of scratching.
This woman is rather unlikely to take to kindly at you admiring another girl’s shirt (or what lies within), and definitely won’t be too keen on you actually talking to them.
The FUNNY woman
Is this the one we’re after? Again, it depends.
If she thinks Monty Python, Red Dwarf and/or various "boys" movies are funny then all the better.
If she thinks that the best kind of humour is the type that makes you look like an imbecile, then there are problems.
If you find yourself with one of these women, the best bet is to make jokes about Life, the Universe and Everything, rather than about specific people. That way you’re both laughing.
This is a far from definitive guide - there’s any number of sub-branches that are waiting to be discovered.
So why do we go for women? Well, they smell better, are generally more fun to touch, and don’t have that excess of hair that makes men so… whatever it is we are.
But gee they’re a strange bunch.
Yes ladies and gentlemen, it’s the time of year when the tv and radio are taken over by "more bloody cricket", people try to make themselves go brown and men enjoy the freedom of movement enjoyed by women in their summer clothes.
Ah, women. For every joke they have about us being ignorant, dumb bastards, we’ve got ones back - although we dare not repeat them in polite company. Some call this cowardice, I call it life-preservation.
How different are the sexes? Are all males just compulsive oglers, only thinking with their stomachs and what hangs off it, proof the evolution can go backwards? Are those of us blessed with the Y chromosome only blessed with an ability to reverse-park and drink excessive amounts of alcohol? And what about those bloody women?
So strap in gentlemen, as we go through the type of women you’re likely to come across (in Australia at least).
The ANTI-SOCIAL woman
Actually, she’s not all that anti-social - she loves going out for a few with her friends and enjoying what life throws at her. This is wonderful, as it gives a couple time apart - but woe betide the poor fool who tries to do the same.
Any gentleman shacked up with one of these women and comes home smelling of beer or ciggies will cop it from both barrels (sometimes literally rather than metaphorically).
The only way to have a relatively peaceful night out is to fill out Form 1080A (Application for Night’s Leave). This may or may not be approved - but if you haven’t filled out one of these for a while, why not try for Form 1080B (Application for Time Away).
Please note this kind of woman will not, under any circumstances, approve Form 1046 (Application for a Gold Pass).
The GAMES woman
The only thing you’re guaranteed with this woman is that she’ll try to mess with your head.
The type of game she likes to play tends to vary a bit - from the always fun "On Again/Off Again" game, to the ever-popular "You Don’t Pay Me Enough Attention So I’m Going To Flirt With Every Male Here". This game is even more fun when she decides to flirt with your best mate. And the silly bugger flirts back.
There is good news though blokes - this kind of woman generally ends up with a bloke who does the same thing to her. Who said karma doesn’t apply?
The QUIET woman
These are the ones you have to watch out for. The quiet, peaceful soul by day could turn out to be Mr Hyde’s evil sister by night. Or not.
Quiet women are really hard to read, as they just keep it all inside, storing it up until it all comes out - just like a really bad volcano actually.
There would be more information about this kind of woman, but our spy is currently in hospital suffering third-degree burns to most of his body from molten hot lava. Experts say it’s the first injury of its kind seen in Australia.
The DRINKING woman
Hey, this is what we’re after! Isn’t it? A woman to come out and enjoy the wonders of alcohol with you?
Sadly, no. Just as men become more like women when they drink (talk excessively without making sense, argue over nothing, can’t drive), women become more like men when they drink. Think biffoes, brawls, and lots of scratching.
This woman is rather unlikely to take to kindly at you admiring another girl’s shirt (or what lies within), and definitely won’t be too keen on you actually talking to them.
The FUNNY woman
Is this the one we’re after? Again, it depends.
If she thinks Monty Python, Red Dwarf and/or various "boys" movies are funny then all the better.
If she thinks that the best kind of humour is the type that makes you look like an imbecile, then there are problems.
If you find yourself with one of these women, the best bet is to make jokes about Life, the Universe and Everything, rather than about specific people. That way you’re both laughing.
This is a far from definitive guide - there’s any number of sub-branches that are waiting to be discovered.
So why do we go for women? Well, they smell better, are generally more fun to touch, and don’t have that excess of hair that makes men so… whatever it is we are.
But gee they’re a strange bunch.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Those were the days my friend...
RIGHT about now there’s a whole heap of year 12 students across Australia that are in an advanced state of stress because of their last-ever exams for school.
At the end of these exams the students head into the Real World, where instead of pulling on a uniform and going to school for six or seven hours a day they may now have the privilege of pulling on a uniform and working for up to 12 hours a day.
This won’t happen for everybody though - a large number of students will take the opportunity to further their education at TAFE (Technical and Further Education if my memory serves me correctly) colleges or universities. This path has the wonderful bonus of being in a group where excessive drinking is not explicitly encouraged, but certainly isn’t going to get you banned from good parties (unless you go completely overboard, which is not a good thing).
But the whole way the exams are done in New South Wales has many students a wee bit concerned.
Year 12 students down here sit for their Higher School Certificate (HSC), with these final exams apparently make up 50% of the total mark over two years for that subject.
I say apparently, because I did my own schooling in Queensland, where things are broken up a little more.
As can be expected some are rather concerned about this, especially those who want to get into a high-powered career like medicine or law. Then there are those who add atmosphere to the local pub’s trivia night every Wednesday by making an awful lot of noise and making it hard to hear the questions.
But surely there has to be a better way than saying that one exam is half your mark. What happens for the other three semesters - do you just bludge them and just do really well on the finals? Who knows.
There’s also concern in the scientific community that there’s not enough young scientists coming through. Figures in a Sydney Morning Herald article show that 17% of year 12 students studied chemistry in 2002 and 16% physics. This compares with 33 and 29 per cent respectively in 1980.
I can only give my view on this as one of those who started off on a science course and didn’t quite get through.
It would seem to me that to be a successful scientist you have to really enjoy what you’re doing and want to do it. My own enthusiasm waned once you got past the "add this to this and make a pretty colour" and into entropies, electron valances and the bonding of carbon with non-metals in an alkaline solution.
Instead of studying all these worthwhile things, I was instead espousing my views on cricket newsgroups about whether Matthew Hayden should be in the Test side (his average was in the 20’s at that stage), drawing random things on my lab coat (never give me a permanent marker) and going out every other weekend (all good, clean, wholesome fun).
It wasn’t until I failed pretty much every subject that I decided journalism might be more rewarding personally - thanks to a suggestion or two.
But how do we get more people following the path I stepped off? Perhaps we should place more importance on what these people do, celebrating a major scientific discovery much the same way we celebrated Michael Clarke’s century on debut. This would encourage more kids to at least have a go at the sciences, increasing the talent pool from which we get our "elite athletes" of that field.
Sport’s all well and good, but it wouldn’t hurt to hail the achievements of our more mentally flexible people.
At the end of these exams the students head into the Real World, where instead of pulling on a uniform and going to school for six or seven hours a day they may now have the privilege of pulling on a uniform and working for up to 12 hours a day.
This won’t happen for everybody though - a large number of students will take the opportunity to further their education at TAFE (Technical and Further Education if my memory serves me correctly) colleges or universities. This path has the wonderful bonus of being in a group where excessive drinking is not explicitly encouraged, but certainly isn’t going to get you banned from good parties (unless you go completely overboard, which is not a good thing).
But the whole way the exams are done in New South Wales has many students a wee bit concerned.
Year 12 students down here sit for their Higher School Certificate (HSC), with these final exams apparently make up 50% of the total mark over two years for that subject.
I say apparently, because I did my own schooling in Queensland, where things are broken up a little more.
As can be expected some are rather concerned about this, especially those who want to get into a high-powered career like medicine or law. Then there are those who add atmosphere to the local pub’s trivia night every Wednesday by making an awful lot of noise and making it hard to hear the questions.
But surely there has to be a better way than saying that one exam is half your mark. What happens for the other three semesters - do you just bludge them and just do really well on the finals? Who knows.
There’s also concern in the scientific community that there’s not enough young scientists coming through. Figures in a Sydney Morning Herald article show that 17% of year 12 students studied chemistry in 2002 and 16% physics. This compares with 33 and 29 per cent respectively in 1980.
I can only give my view on this as one of those who started off on a science course and didn’t quite get through.
It would seem to me that to be a successful scientist you have to really enjoy what you’re doing and want to do it. My own enthusiasm waned once you got past the "add this to this and make a pretty colour" and into entropies, electron valances and the bonding of carbon with non-metals in an alkaline solution.
Instead of studying all these worthwhile things, I was instead espousing my views on cricket newsgroups about whether Matthew Hayden should be in the Test side (his average was in the 20’s at that stage), drawing random things on my lab coat (never give me a permanent marker) and going out every other weekend (all good, clean, wholesome fun).
It wasn’t until I failed pretty much every subject that I decided journalism might be more rewarding personally - thanks to a suggestion or two.
But how do we get more people following the path I stepped off? Perhaps we should place more importance on what these people do, celebrating a major scientific discovery much the same way we celebrated Michael Clarke’s century on debut. This would encourage more kids to at least have a go at the sciences, increasing the talent pool from which we get our "elite athletes" of that field.
Sport’s all well and good, but it wouldn’t hurt to hail the achievements of our more mentally flexible people.
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Miller Mr Cool
TO modify a famous phrase, some people are born cool, some become cool, and some have coolness thrust upon them. Keith Ross Miller had all three.
It was perhaps fate that a man named after early aviation heroes Keith and Ross Smith would go on to fly fighter planes during World War II. It was here that Miller made friends, lost friends, and came close to losing his life on more than one occasion.
A fan of classical music, during one mission Miller decided to make a detour so he could fly over Bonn simply so he could see the birthplace of Beethoven. How cool is that?
Miller had made his first class debut for Victoria before the war, in a non-Sheffield Shield match against Tasmania in 1938. There he hit 181 in the first innings - and did not bowl.
In fact, it wasn’t until the 1940/41 season that Miller actually had a bowl. Playing for Stan McCabe’s XI against Don Bradman’s XI at the MCG, Miller opened the bowling in the second innings after Bradman’s XI followed-on and took the wicket of Kenneth Ridings. Ridings was one of many first-class cricketers to die during WWII, which also included Australian Test player Ross Gregory and England spinner Hedley Verity.
Perhaps Miller’s later behaviour should be seen from that perspective. He never considered himself a bowler - at one point he tossed a ball back to Bradman after being asked to bowl. Bradman threw it back and simply said "bowl". Miller bowled.
Miller’s bowling talents were found out by accident. After WWII there were a number of "Victory" Tests in 1945 between England and an Australian Services team. In the first of these at Lord’s Miller was the fifth bowler used - and promptly bowled Test player Bill Edrich.
Just for good measure he then hit 105 in the first innings.
By the end of the series he was opening the bowling, as well as adding another century to his collection. In his final match of the 1945 season Miller hit an astonishing 185 that was described by those who saw it as one of the greatest batting displays.
As a bowler he was described by England’s Len Hutton as being one of the hardest to face. Miller took wickets with quick balls, slow balls, leg-breaks, googlies, off-breaks, bouncers - pretty much anything that involved releasing the ball from the right hand. His run-up also changed more than the Aussie dollar - some days only a couple of paces, some days 15 paces, some days not bowling full stop. He could generally get away with this as he was still worth his place in the side of just a batsman.
Miller was a big fan of a contest. In the 1955 Ashes Test at the Adelaide Oval England only needed 94 runs to win and take a 3-1 series lead. Miller came out, took the wickets of Hutton, Edrich and Colin Cowdrey cheaply to leave England at just 3/18. He later threw out his back - which had been injured during the war - and England stumbled home by five wickets.
If it wasn’t a contest Miller wasn’t interested. In 1948 Australia racked up 729 runs in just one day, of which Miller added exactly 0. He shouldered arms to future England player Trevor Bailey first ball.
For Miller, cricket was only ever a game - one of many he excelled at. He played Australian rules for St Kilda, and dreamt of being a jockey before a growth spurt sent him up around the six foot mark. Perhaps his whole attitude can be summed up in one quote.
"Pressure?" he said.
"I’ll tell you what pressure is. Pressure is a Messerschmitt up your arse, playing cricket is not."
How cool is that?
It was perhaps fate that a man named after early aviation heroes Keith and Ross Smith would go on to fly fighter planes during World War II. It was here that Miller made friends, lost friends, and came close to losing his life on more than one occasion.
A fan of classical music, during one mission Miller decided to make a detour so he could fly over Bonn simply so he could see the birthplace of Beethoven. How cool is that?
Miller had made his first class debut for Victoria before the war, in a non-Sheffield Shield match against Tasmania in 1938. There he hit 181 in the first innings - and did not bowl.
In fact, it wasn’t until the 1940/41 season that Miller actually had a bowl. Playing for Stan McCabe’s XI against Don Bradman’s XI at the MCG, Miller opened the bowling in the second innings after Bradman’s XI followed-on and took the wicket of Kenneth Ridings. Ridings was one of many first-class cricketers to die during WWII, which also included Australian Test player Ross Gregory and England spinner Hedley Verity.
Perhaps Miller’s later behaviour should be seen from that perspective. He never considered himself a bowler - at one point he tossed a ball back to Bradman after being asked to bowl. Bradman threw it back and simply said "bowl". Miller bowled.
Miller’s bowling talents were found out by accident. After WWII there were a number of "Victory" Tests in 1945 between England and an Australian Services team. In the first of these at Lord’s Miller was the fifth bowler used - and promptly bowled Test player Bill Edrich.
Just for good measure he then hit 105 in the first innings.
By the end of the series he was opening the bowling, as well as adding another century to his collection. In his final match of the 1945 season Miller hit an astonishing 185 that was described by those who saw it as one of the greatest batting displays.
As a bowler he was described by England’s Len Hutton as being one of the hardest to face. Miller took wickets with quick balls, slow balls, leg-breaks, googlies, off-breaks, bouncers - pretty much anything that involved releasing the ball from the right hand. His run-up also changed more than the Aussie dollar - some days only a couple of paces, some days 15 paces, some days not bowling full stop. He could generally get away with this as he was still worth his place in the side of just a batsman.
Miller was a big fan of a contest. In the 1955 Ashes Test at the Adelaide Oval England only needed 94 runs to win and take a 3-1 series lead. Miller came out, took the wickets of Hutton, Edrich and Colin Cowdrey cheaply to leave England at just 3/18. He later threw out his back - which had been injured during the war - and England stumbled home by five wickets.
If it wasn’t a contest Miller wasn’t interested. In 1948 Australia racked up 729 runs in just one day, of which Miller added exactly 0. He shouldered arms to future England player Trevor Bailey first ball.
For Miller, cricket was only ever a game - one of many he excelled at. He played Australian rules for St Kilda, and dreamt of being a jockey before a growth spurt sent him up around the six foot mark. Perhaps his whole attitude can be summed up in one quote.
"Pressure?" he said.
"I’ll tell you what pressure is. Pressure is a Messerschmitt up your arse, playing cricket is not."
How cool is that?
Monday, September 27, 2004
Cowboys Anonymous
Hello, my name is Stuart and I’m a North Queensland Cowboys supporter.
Actually, you don’t need to do that anymore. The success of the Cowboys has meant that wandering around in a supporters jersey is no longer the modern-day equivalent of putting your head in the stocks and waiting for the rotten fruit to be hurled.
For those of us from the north it’s been a great year. In ten years of playing, the Cowboys have been a catchphrase for mediocrity. Actually they’ve been positively striving for mediocrity. Just finishing more than two places above last was normally a good excuse to celebrate, so finishing fourth is nothing short of a miracle.
Yet there’s still an empty feeling. The Cowboys pushed the Roosters all the way, and had the ref put in his contact lenses before going out in the field we may well have won. My own view was that there should have been a penalty against Anthony Minichiello for taking out a player without the ball with about 60 seconds left to go. (Funny, I seem to recall Minichiello taking out a player from NQ without the ball before…)
But, I’m afraid to say, this has been a shithouse year for me and sport. Not because the teams I’ve followed have been shithouse, but because their promises of success have generally fallen a few yards short of realistic expectations.
Take the Australian cricket team. At the start of the year they were supposed to comprehensively thrash an Indian side who still hated the ball coming up above the waist. Not only did they not thrash them, but they also came close to losing in final test.
The Queensland cricket team then tripped while taking up the baton. In the one-day final they looked home and hosed against Western Australia before not one, but two main bowlers went down with cramp. WA got the runs and I got the shits.
Then when things looked like picking up, Jimmy Maher decided to send Victoria into bat in the four-day final. Victoria were closer to 1000 runs than 100 by the end of their innings, and Queensland got pumped by an innings and plenty.
State pride was restored a little when the Queensland Reds beat the NSW Waratahs again in the Super 12 rugby union, only to be deflated by The Fluke Of The Century (Shaun Timmins kicking a field goal to win the first State of Origin for NSW). Billy Slater helped to win game 2, only for NSW to do us again in game 3 and thus condemn yours truly to a week of insufferable pain caused by gloating NSW supporters (you know who you are, and you are going to a bad place when you die).
The Canberra Raiders - who had been widely tipped to make the top four this year in the NRL - didn’t even play like the girl with the curls. When they were good it was a bloody miracle, and when they were bad they lost to Manly.
The Brisbane Lions got done in the grand final against Port Adelaide - more guffaws from "friends" who solemnly declared Port were their second favourite team (do I look like I was born yesterday?).
And now the Cowboys’ fairytale is over. But that’s the great thing about sport - there’s always next year, and as a cricket tragic, I hereby declare it to be next year.
And you know what? My name’s Stuart, and I’m a Cowboys fan. And bloody proud of it.
Actually, you don’t need to do that anymore. The success of the Cowboys has meant that wandering around in a supporters jersey is no longer the modern-day equivalent of putting your head in the stocks and waiting for the rotten fruit to be hurled.
For those of us from the north it’s been a great year. In ten years of playing, the Cowboys have been a catchphrase for mediocrity. Actually they’ve been positively striving for mediocrity. Just finishing more than two places above last was normally a good excuse to celebrate, so finishing fourth is nothing short of a miracle.
Yet there’s still an empty feeling. The Cowboys pushed the Roosters all the way, and had the ref put in his contact lenses before going out in the field we may well have won. My own view was that there should have been a penalty against Anthony Minichiello for taking out a player without the ball with about 60 seconds left to go. (Funny, I seem to recall Minichiello taking out a player from NQ without the ball before…)
But, I’m afraid to say, this has been a shithouse year for me and sport. Not because the teams I’ve followed have been shithouse, but because their promises of success have generally fallen a few yards short of realistic expectations.
Take the Australian cricket team. At the start of the year they were supposed to comprehensively thrash an Indian side who still hated the ball coming up above the waist. Not only did they not thrash them, but they also came close to losing in final test.
The Queensland cricket team then tripped while taking up the baton. In the one-day final they looked home and hosed against Western Australia before not one, but two main bowlers went down with cramp. WA got the runs and I got the shits.
Then when things looked like picking up, Jimmy Maher decided to send Victoria into bat in the four-day final. Victoria were closer to 1000 runs than 100 by the end of their innings, and Queensland got pumped by an innings and plenty.
State pride was restored a little when the Queensland Reds beat the NSW Waratahs again in the Super 12 rugby union, only to be deflated by The Fluke Of The Century (Shaun Timmins kicking a field goal to win the first State of Origin for NSW). Billy Slater helped to win game 2, only for NSW to do us again in game 3 and thus condemn yours truly to a week of insufferable pain caused by gloating NSW supporters (you know who you are, and you are going to a bad place when you die).
The Canberra Raiders - who had been widely tipped to make the top four this year in the NRL - didn’t even play like the girl with the curls. When they were good it was a bloody miracle, and when they were bad they lost to Manly.
The Brisbane Lions got done in the grand final against Port Adelaide - more guffaws from "friends" who solemnly declared Port were their second favourite team (do I look like I was born yesterday?).
And now the Cowboys’ fairytale is over. But that’s the great thing about sport - there’s always next year, and as a cricket tragic, I hereby declare it to be next year.
And you know what? My name’s Stuart, and I’m a Cowboys fan. And bloody proud of it.
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
This one goes out to the one...
Another day, another fatigue-filled, high-stress, high-caffeine low-health food day.
The last three days - nay, three weeks - have been one tired stumble to another. Even as I write this it's a struggle to try and make it into something that's witty, worthwhile and meaningful.
Given how much I struggle at the best of times to do that I don't know why I worry.
In fact, worrying is probably half the problem. If there's something worth worrying about, chances are I'll be there wondering about whether or not it was done right. This is particularly true in my job, where people can (and do) get mighty upset about not getting an article or photo in the paper when and where they wanted them. Otherwise people occasionally (but not often) crack the shits about something when you go out of your way to help them.
In the interests of finding out if there was a way of sleeping the whole night and de-stressing (is this a real word? Probably not, but who cares) I had a peek on the net.
On one site I found they had listed six different types of stress - Speed Freak, Worry Wart, Drifter, Loner, Basket Case and Cliff Walker. Each stress type had a little description, while elsewhere you could vote as to which type was yours.
Problem here is I've managed to score on all six counts. I'm not saying which - but as a fun exercise why not take the traits and see if you can make your own stressed-out me!
Of course it would all help if we were all just the bit more honest with each other. A big problem for many young males is that they don't know when a conversation with a nice female doesn't mean they want to sleep with you. One girl made it quite clear the other night she wasn't keen ("I'm not interested"), and I'm fairly sure we had an intelligent conversation after that (this was after quite a few drinks which have dimmed my memory of most things, so don't hold this as being a true and accurate record).
So a little more honesty people - let me sleep at night!
You can kick off your search for your own personal stress type at http://stress.about.com/cs/inthenews/a/worrywart.htm
The last three days - nay, three weeks - have been one tired stumble to another. Even as I write this it's a struggle to try and make it into something that's witty, worthwhile and meaningful.
Given how much I struggle at the best of times to do that I don't know why I worry.
In fact, worrying is probably half the problem. If there's something worth worrying about, chances are I'll be there wondering about whether or not it was done right. This is particularly true in my job, where people can (and do) get mighty upset about not getting an article or photo in the paper when and where they wanted them. Otherwise people occasionally (but not often) crack the shits about something when you go out of your way to help them.
In the interests of finding out if there was a way of sleeping the whole night and de-stressing (is this a real word? Probably not, but who cares) I had a peek on the net.
On one site I found they had listed six different types of stress - Speed Freak, Worry Wart, Drifter, Loner, Basket Case and Cliff Walker. Each stress type had a little description, while elsewhere you could vote as to which type was yours.
Problem here is I've managed to score on all six counts. I'm not saying which - but as a fun exercise why not take the traits and see if you can make your own stressed-out me!
Of course it would all help if we were all just the bit more honest with each other. A big problem for many young males is that they don't know when a conversation with a nice female doesn't mean they want to sleep with you. One girl made it quite clear the other night she wasn't keen ("I'm not interested"), and I'm fairly sure we had an intelligent conversation after that (this was after quite a few drinks which have dimmed my memory of most things, so don't hold this as being a true and accurate record).
So a little more honesty people - let me sleep at night!
You can kick off your search for your own personal stress type at http://stress.about.com/cs/inthenews/a/worrywart.htm
Sunday, September 12, 2004
Spare the condescending
After ten years as the joke team of the ARL/SL/NRL/whatever, North Queensland have finally shown they're capable of winning more than the wooden spoon. For long-suffering NQ fans like myself this is finally a chance to very quietly get one back at those who seek to poke fun at people who go for bottom sides.
It's actually been a pretty good year for that, what with St Kilda and Geelong now in the final four of the AFL. I can certainly sympathise with Geelong fans - their task next weekend is similar to the one the Cowboys faced on Saturday night against the Bulldogs.
It was a win for the ages then - one for those of us who've endured wooden spoon after wooden spoon, the igonomy of winning the opening four matches of 1998 to finish 16th out of 20, who've had to endure the smugness of opposition fans when they come to play us. Such was my own lack of confidence in the game that anyone who said we'd get done got a small nod of the head and the standard "just happy to be there" line. Being down in Cooma, NSW means there's a fair few more Bulldogs fans than NQ fans.
But please, oh please, spare me the inane questions, the inane comments by a certain commentary team in the last few weeks.
"Fans in Townsville, Cairns, Mackay etc, your team is in the finals." What, don't those of us living elsewhere count?
"What does this win mean for the people of NQ?" It means they've got another excuse to go out and get pissed on the weekend.
"What would a home semi against the Broncos mean to NQ?" It means we've got a chance of finally beating those cocky bloody Broncos.
Fair dinkum, blind Freddie could see that we're all very happy with our team's performance. Please spare me this condescending rubbish - Brad Fittler doesn't get asked what a premiership means to Sydney, so why the f^#! should we?
It's actually been a pretty good year for that, what with St Kilda and Geelong now in the final four of the AFL. I can certainly sympathise with Geelong fans - their task next weekend is similar to the one the Cowboys faced on Saturday night against the Bulldogs.
It was a win for the ages then - one for those of us who've endured wooden spoon after wooden spoon, the igonomy of winning the opening four matches of 1998 to finish 16th out of 20, who've had to endure the smugness of opposition fans when they come to play us. Such was my own lack of confidence in the game that anyone who said we'd get done got a small nod of the head and the standard "just happy to be there" line. Being down in Cooma, NSW means there's a fair few more Bulldogs fans than NQ fans.
But please, oh please, spare me the inane questions, the inane comments by a certain commentary team in the last few weeks.
"Fans in Townsville, Cairns, Mackay etc, your team is in the finals." What, don't those of us living elsewhere count?
"What does this win mean for the people of NQ?" It means they've got another excuse to go out and get pissed on the weekend.
"What would a home semi against the Broncos mean to NQ?" It means we've got a chance of finally beating those cocky bloody Broncos.
Fair dinkum, blind Freddie could see that we're all very happy with our team's performance. Please spare me this condescending rubbish - Brad Fittler doesn't get asked what a premiership means to Sydney, so why the f^#! should we?
Monday, August 09, 2004
Watch your names
It’s probably fair to say that none too many people have read a book written by someone in an end-of-year music chart and laughed quite considerably.
It’s probably fair to say none too many people have read a book by a music charter full-stop. By and large the only thing I want to read by a performer is a songbook with music and lyrics.
But while idly perusing through the end-of-year ARIA charts I happened across number 21 for 1988, a little ditty called "Stutter Rap" by Morris Minor and the Majors.
If you haven’t heard of this song before, don’t despair. I’d only heard of it for the first time when Morris Minor, aka Tony Hawks, released a book called "One Hit Wonderland".
Tony Hawks is a Pom (Englishmen for those who prefer proper terms), and has written three books, all about bets. "One Hit Wonderland" involves a bet he made to get a top-20 single anywhere in the world. "Round Ireland With A Fridge" details how Tony went around Ireland with a fridge (a 100 pound bet), while "Playing the Moldavans At Tennis" examines the difficulties involved in trying to play a national soccer team at tennis.
Now some of you may be thinking the name Tony Hawks is familiar - doesn’t one of the kids idolise him? A quick check with the nearest "with-it" kid may find that name is one used by a professional skate-boarder. If so, beat the kid over the head with a large object (cricket bats are my personal favourite) and tell them they are wrong.
You see, one of the funniest parts of Tony Hawks website is when he replies to people who think he is Tony Hawk, professional skateboarder. Lots of unfortunates write to Tony Hawks asking for tips. Messer Hawks gives these two for starters:
Don't stand downwind of flatulent people, and try not to get involved in leapfrogging unicorns.
True words if ever I’ve heard them.
Thinking that people who read books were more intelligent than kid skateboarders, I e-mailed the web people for Tony Hawk and asked if they’d heard of the author. They said they had, and yes, they did get e-mails for him.
So what’s the bloody point? Check names before you write/talk etc peoples. You may get severely embarrassed by a smart-arse author.
The e-mails and their replies can be found at http://www.tony-hawks.com/skatemail.php.
And for those who don't give a rats, I've now changed jobs to be a sports writer. This means I can now quite legitimately look up Inside Sport and claim it's expanding my knowledge and understanding of the world around me.
It’s probably fair to say none too many people have read a book by a music charter full-stop. By and large the only thing I want to read by a performer is a songbook with music and lyrics.
But while idly perusing through the end-of-year ARIA charts I happened across number 21 for 1988, a little ditty called "Stutter Rap" by Morris Minor and the Majors.
If you haven’t heard of this song before, don’t despair. I’d only heard of it for the first time when Morris Minor, aka Tony Hawks, released a book called "One Hit Wonderland".
Tony Hawks is a Pom (Englishmen for those who prefer proper terms), and has written three books, all about bets. "One Hit Wonderland" involves a bet he made to get a top-20 single anywhere in the world. "Round Ireland With A Fridge" details how Tony went around Ireland with a fridge (a 100 pound bet), while "Playing the Moldavans At Tennis" examines the difficulties involved in trying to play a national soccer team at tennis.
Now some of you may be thinking the name Tony Hawks is familiar - doesn’t one of the kids idolise him? A quick check with the nearest "with-it" kid may find that name is one used by a professional skate-boarder. If so, beat the kid over the head with a large object (cricket bats are my personal favourite) and tell them they are wrong.
You see, one of the funniest parts of Tony Hawks website is when he replies to people who think he is Tony Hawk, professional skateboarder. Lots of unfortunates write to Tony Hawks asking for tips. Messer Hawks gives these two for starters:
Don't stand downwind of flatulent people, and try not to get involved in leapfrogging unicorns.
True words if ever I’ve heard them.
Thinking that people who read books were more intelligent than kid skateboarders, I e-mailed the web people for Tony Hawk and asked if they’d heard of the author. They said they had, and yes, they did get e-mails for him.
So what’s the bloody point? Check names before you write/talk etc peoples. You may get severely embarrassed by a smart-arse author.
The e-mails and their replies can be found at http://www.tony-hawks.com/skatemail.php.
And for those who don't give a rats, I've now changed jobs to be a sports writer. This means I can now quite legitimately look up Inside Sport and claim it's expanding my knowledge and understanding of the world around me.
Thursday, June 24, 2004
Adultescents!?!
There's been a lot of talk recently about "adultescents", these so-called adults who apparently still have the mind-set of teenagers and quite frankly, don't give a rat's about anything.
According to some psychologist-type person, these people, generally aged between 18 and 30, like to use the internet, mobile phones, and use irreverent humour.
Oh dear. This is starting to sound like yours truly.
It does get more specific though for those who think this may sound like young-person bashing.
David Chalke, who wrote a report on these misguided souls, said people in their twenties just don't want to worry about something in the future.
"They don't save because they don't aspire to settle down. Even if they become connected to a partner, they still rent, because they want money now to spend on themselves. They don't think in terms of a career - just a series of jobs, because they get bored easily. They don't invest, because they want instant gratification," he is quoted as saying in the Sydney Morning Herald.
By the way, if I hear one more "x is the new y", I'm going to take to that person with an axe. It's mentioned a number of times in the article (link below), and makes me want to find their "Big Book of Cliches" and burn it.
Chalke then goes on to say these adultescents want to buy designer clothes, gadgets, travel to movies etc.
Now this is eerily familiar.
I don't want to settle down, will be renting until the Second Coming - because of high housing prices, not because I want more money (it would be nice), and don't invest because living tends to cut into the old bank account.
As for a series of jobs, who doesn't want to explore all possibilities? In my case, travelling and working is perfect for my career as it gives me more life experience to draw on to make things (like this I hope) more interesting.
And anyway, who wants to settle down in their 20s when the average life expectancy is around 80? I couldn't live with my family for 20 years, not too sure how I'd go with someone for 50 or 60.
What's of more concern to me is the number of young adults who aren't independent in any way, shape or form. Those who still live with their parents, who don't give a rats about the world and who just care about finding someone who's socially acceptable or has the right look, instead of someone who does care.
We saw an excellent example of this in Australia recently when a crowd during a "Big Brother" eviction booed rather loudly when a bloke named Merlin was evicted.
Merlin had come out with his mouth taped up and a sign saying "Free th refugees" (the 'e' fell off). He wanted to bring the issue back to the attention of Australia.
Without getting into the refugee issue here, what he did was very brave. Normally contestants come out, look happy/sad/bewildered, say some banal words which get a cheer from the audience, then shuffle onto Rove Live a couple of days later then out of sight.
Merlin took the opportunity to actually make his convictions clear, and in doing so put himself on the line.
The crowd's reaction? Boooooo!
As for the cost of living out of home being too expensive, what a load of rubbish.
The problem seems to be that younger people can't really budget, or use the credit card up too much. Ask any uni student who's had to move somewhere to get ahead how hard it is.
Most will tell you how they got by on less than A$15,000 a year.
I can't believe people who are earning more than that ($30,000 +) can't live out of home.
If you can't, there's something seriously wrong with your priorities. Designer clothing and gadgets are good, but going for a night on the town without your Mum asking when you're going to be back and not to make so much noise next time?
Priceless.
I'll take independence over gadgets any day - and I reckon sometime down the track I'll be able to have both.
The article on the adultescents is at http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2004/05/24/1085389339741.html
According to some psychologist-type person, these people, generally aged between 18 and 30, like to use the internet, mobile phones, and use irreverent humour.
Oh dear. This is starting to sound like yours truly.
It does get more specific though for those who think this may sound like young-person bashing.
David Chalke, who wrote a report on these misguided souls, said people in their twenties just don't want to worry about something in the future.
"They don't save because they don't aspire to settle down. Even if they become connected to a partner, they still rent, because they want money now to spend on themselves. They don't think in terms of a career - just a series of jobs, because they get bored easily. They don't invest, because they want instant gratification," he is quoted as saying in the Sydney Morning Herald.
By the way, if I hear one more "x is the new y", I'm going to take to that person with an axe. It's mentioned a number of times in the article (link below), and makes me want to find their "Big Book of Cliches" and burn it.
Chalke then goes on to say these adultescents want to buy designer clothes, gadgets, travel to movies etc.
Now this is eerily familiar.
I don't want to settle down, will be renting until the Second Coming - because of high housing prices, not because I want more money (it would be nice), and don't invest because living tends to cut into the old bank account.
As for a series of jobs, who doesn't want to explore all possibilities? In my case, travelling and working is perfect for my career as it gives me more life experience to draw on to make things (like this I hope) more interesting.
And anyway, who wants to settle down in their 20s when the average life expectancy is around 80? I couldn't live with my family for 20 years, not too sure how I'd go with someone for 50 or 60.
What's of more concern to me is the number of young adults who aren't independent in any way, shape or form. Those who still live with their parents, who don't give a rats about the world and who just care about finding someone who's socially acceptable or has the right look, instead of someone who does care.
We saw an excellent example of this in Australia recently when a crowd during a "Big Brother" eviction booed rather loudly when a bloke named Merlin was evicted.
Merlin had come out with his mouth taped up and a sign saying "Free th refugees" (the 'e' fell off). He wanted to bring the issue back to the attention of Australia.
Without getting into the refugee issue here, what he did was very brave. Normally contestants come out, look happy/sad/bewildered, say some banal words which get a cheer from the audience, then shuffle onto Rove Live a couple of days later then out of sight.
Merlin took the opportunity to actually make his convictions clear, and in doing so put himself on the line.
The crowd's reaction? Boooooo!
As for the cost of living out of home being too expensive, what a load of rubbish.
The problem seems to be that younger people can't really budget, or use the credit card up too much. Ask any uni student who's had to move somewhere to get ahead how hard it is.
Most will tell you how they got by on less than A$15,000 a year.
I can't believe people who are earning more than that ($30,000 +) can't live out of home.
If you can't, there's something seriously wrong with your priorities. Designer clothing and gadgets are good, but going for a night on the town without your Mum asking when you're going to be back and not to make so much noise next time?
Priceless.
I'll take independence over gadgets any day - and I reckon sometime down the track I'll be able to have both.
The article on the adultescents is at http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2004/05/24/1085389339741.html
Thursday, June 17, 2004
Go you good things!
Well, another night, another Origin.
It would be remiss of me not too mention the fact the right team won on the night, making up for the Fluke of the Century (Shaun Timmins field-goal) in the previous game.
If nothing else, these Origin matches are a definite show of where you come from. There aren't too may of my friends from Queensland who don't regard State of Origin as something approaching a religious experience, a chance for us to put the wind up those pesky NSW people who think they're better.
This is especially true when you live south of the border, where walking around in a maroon jersey (like me last night) is like putting on some duck wings at the start of the season and parading around in front of people just itching to shoot something.
The abuse, or verbal encouragement, wasn't too bad. There was one idiot who starting rubbing my hair at the start of the game every time NSW did well (which was often). That sorted itself out eventually (he left the room), while a couple of people tried to insults by calling us Queenslanders.
Short of saying we're God himself, I can't think of a better compliment.
Unfortunately, this view is not shared by those down here, for whom Queenslanders are those pesky things who make a habit of being very loud and annoying and sponging off the NSW Government etc etc.
This "talking down" of Queensland was actually mentioned by now-deposed chairman of the ABA (Australian Broadcasting Authority) David Flint.
Professor Flint was speaking at an official ABA reception in Brisbane in 1998, soon after 11 One Nation MP's had been elected to the Queensland Parliament.
Strangely enough the Queensland election had been deemed to be news all around the world, including the BBC World Service. Prof Flint made the point a lot of these news outlets were somewhat hypocritical when criticizing Queensland.
"But having read some of the reports, and comments, in other foreign media, I find it surprising that I have not previously read or seen or heard of media warnings not to trade or invest, or be educated in France, or Germany, or Austria, or Malaysia, or Indonesia," Prof Flint said.
"Outbreaks of extreme violence, of murders, of requirements for separate passports, or mandatory name changes, the rise of extremely racist parties even in ancient European civilisations have not resulted in editorials that these nations must mend their ways. That they are being watched."
Prof Flint also gave his view that perhaps some of the reporting of the election was clouded by views of people from outside the state. He cites the example of a heading "Finding solutions for simpletons" on a Paul Kelly opinion piece on One Nation in The Australian newspaper.
"It seems that the reporting of the Queensland election has been clouded by the views, preferences and, dare I say it, the prejudices of some of those conveying the news and commenting on it."
Queensland is not perfect - not by any stretch of the imagination. But perhaps some quotes from Australian pressman John Pringle should finish this - just like Prof Flint did.
Australians say that when a stranger arrives in Perth, the first question is
"Where do you come from?"
In Adelaide, it's
"What Church do you belong to?"
In Melbourne it's
"What school were you at?
In Sydney it's
"How much money have you got?"
In Brisbane they say
"Come and have a drink"
If you're ever up that way, come and have a drink.
Professor Flint's speech can be found here
It would be remiss of me not too mention the fact the right team won on the night, making up for the Fluke of the Century (Shaun Timmins field-goal) in the previous game.
If nothing else, these Origin matches are a definite show of where you come from. There aren't too may of my friends from Queensland who don't regard State of Origin as something approaching a religious experience, a chance for us to put the wind up those pesky NSW people who think they're better.
This is especially true when you live south of the border, where walking around in a maroon jersey (like me last night) is like putting on some duck wings at the start of the season and parading around in front of people just itching to shoot something.
The abuse, or verbal encouragement, wasn't too bad. There was one idiot who starting rubbing my hair at the start of the game every time NSW did well (which was often). That sorted itself out eventually (he left the room), while a couple of people tried to insults by calling us Queenslanders.
Short of saying we're God himself, I can't think of a better compliment.
Unfortunately, this view is not shared by those down here, for whom Queenslanders are those pesky things who make a habit of being very loud and annoying and sponging off the NSW Government etc etc.
This "talking down" of Queensland was actually mentioned by now-deposed chairman of the ABA (Australian Broadcasting Authority) David Flint.
Professor Flint was speaking at an official ABA reception in Brisbane in 1998, soon after 11 One Nation MP's had been elected to the Queensland Parliament.
Strangely enough the Queensland election had been deemed to be news all around the world, including the BBC World Service. Prof Flint made the point a lot of these news outlets were somewhat hypocritical when criticizing Queensland.
"But having read some of the reports, and comments, in other foreign media, I find it surprising that I have not previously read or seen or heard of media warnings not to trade or invest, or be educated in France, or Germany, or Austria, or Malaysia, or Indonesia," Prof Flint said.
"Outbreaks of extreme violence, of murders, of requirements for separate passports, or mandatory name changes, the rise of extremely racist parties even in ancient European civilisations have not resulted in editorials that these nations must mend their ways. That they are being watched."
Prof Flint also gave his view that perhaps some of the reporting of the election was clouded by views of people from outside the state. He cites the example of a heading "Finding solutions for simpletons" on a Paul Kelly opinion piece on One Nation in The Australian newspaper.
"It seems that the reporting of the Queensland election has been clouded by the views, preferences and, dare I say it, the prejudices of some of those conveying the news and commenting on it."
Queensland is not perfect - not by any stretch of the imagination. But perhaps some quotes from Australian pressman John Pringle should finish this - just like Prof Flint did.
Australians say that when a stranger arrives in Perth, the first question is
"Where do you come from?"
In Adelaide, it's
"What Church do you belong to?"
In Melbourne it's
"What school were you at?
In Sydney it's
"How much money have you got?"
In Brisbane they say
"Come and have a drink"
If you're ever up that way, come and have a drink.
Professor Flint's speech can be found here
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