Chapter Four

In my recent contemplations of life, the universe and everything, I have become increasingly interested in something that is at the very core of our being, our individuality, our selves and those around us - perspective. I think we are extremely mistaken in thinking (what does that mean anyway?) that we all think in the same way. But of course we start by thinking that everyone perceives things the same way that we do because this is the only perspective we have in the first place (sorry if i am beginning to be a tad circular).

I suppose that the classic way to demonstrate this is the age old question of 'what is blue?' When you and I look up at a clear sky I would say the sky is blue, and you would agree. (My conversations are not usually this dull, I swear.) But what is 'blue'? Well... it's...a colour that is....blue. Damn.

I personally became aware of this difference in perspective with Cynic. I have always been aware that I am what you would call a 'visual thinker'. I remember the names of shops by recalling what their shopfront looked like, I remember words on a flashcard by how the handwriting appeared and trace the letters of a word with my finger to work out how to spell them. I was explaining to Cynic that I knew what his lounge room looked like because I could picture it. But, he pointed out, what did I mean by 'picture it'?

Basically, what I'm trying to get across is that I don't believe there is any sure way of knowing that my perception of the world is the same, or even similar, to yours. Furthermore, I believe that if there is a discrepancy between how you and I think, then this is often a major source for conflict. If we are not able to convey how differently we perceive a certain topic or situation, then there cannot be scope for understanding, only tolerance at the very best, and hence no chance of acceptance and respect of a differing view.

To finish, I'd just like to point out the fun of being a visual thinker, in that I often 'see' words in my head, but not always as they are intended...

You say, "beer can", i see a rastafarian rasher of bacon.

You say "Amanda", but I see...

  

You say "a lawn", I see a lonely scotsman.

And how could we forget the craziness of the American Bill of Rights?

Sorry if this post didn't make much sense, but I guess that just proves my point, right?

Until next time,
be nice to your mother.

Chapter Three

I've noticed something about how I live and how I think recently; something extremely important, yet so easy to miss because it's so deeply embedded in how I live and how I think. I wonder if it's the same for you? Our lives are filled with imposed structures - rules, time, due dates, goals, limits, expectations.... Take a typical day in my own life - I wake up, go to uni, come home, go to bed, wake up...

I have realised that because I have been taught to "think ahead!" and "get organised!", I concentrate so much on what I'm going to do next that I hardly ever truly think about and appreciate the moment I am in. When I wake up, I think about having breakfast. When I'm having breakfast, I think about getting to the bus on time. When I'm on the bus, I'm thinking about what lecture's I'm going to go to. When I'm in the lecture, I'm thinking about what work I need to do when I get home. By the time I'm working on an essay, I can't wait to get to bed. Getting the picture?

Before you start to think that my blog has taken a nihilistic turn for the worst, I would like to point out that there are certain moments with certain people in my day where I where I truly enjoy the moment.

They make every moment incredible, no matter of what you are doing.

They always make you laugh.

You love them like your own family.

It's at these moments that I think nothing of what I should be doing next or where I should be going.

And I'm sure I'm not the only person who thinks like this. So please - smile, stop, and appreciate it because it seems like the more we enjoy doing something, the faster it passes us by.

Until next time, 

be good and eat your vegies.

Chapter Two

As a good citizen, I feel it is my moral duty to inform my counterparts of an infection within our society - the Hipster (latin: Scumis Hipstis). As an Arts student, I am exposed to such creatures on a daily basis and in my travels have come to know much about this species. The natural habitats of the Hipster are opshops, South Lawn, lane way cafes and yet-to-be-discovered-band gigs.

I think the biggest issue I have with Hipsters is that the very nature of what they are is full of contradictions. Firstly, the Hipster is what I like to call a Pop-Culture Parasite - they take every trend that was ever cool and is now not cool and try to make it cool while seeming like they don't think they're cool when really we all know they think they are cool.
They have stolen:
- the 90's converse shoes
- their little sister's skinny jeans
- the emo's fringe
- the nerd's ironic slogan tshirt
- grandma's glasses
- the 50's one-gear vintage bike
- the student's satchel
- the bohemian's rollies
- the redneck's facial hair
- grandpa's cardigan
and given nothing back. How can we possibly call this a 'sub-culture' if it doesn't produce anything remotely resembling 'cultural' itself? The idea itself isn't even original to the 21st century! 'Hipsters' were first conceptualised in the 1940's, referring to those who liked a particular type of jazz music! Hence we have the second contradiction of the Hipster.
My third, final and favourite contradiction of the Hipster is their image. Yes, Mr. Hipster, I see that your cardigan has moth holes in it, you ride a really old bike and look like you had to get your blind grandmother to cut your hair because you are just too cool to work and are therefore too poor to afford anything that isn't at least 4th hand / vintage. But wait Mr. Hipster! We all know you paid at least $400 for those shoes, even if you did do your very best to make them look like you found them in that dumpster you were hiding in because you thought one of your Hipster friends had seen you shopping at Target.

Be alert, not alarmed.

Chapter One

Dear reader,
So, following suit of my nearest and dearest, I have taken it upon myself to start a blog. I have done this with the full knowledge that like facebook, it will undoubtedly become a highly sufficient source of procrastination. As the assignments start rolling in, you, dear reader, will hopefully be the recipient of my most random thoughts, large yet useless epiphanies and maybe, just maybe, the odd interesting idea.

I was wondering before why I decided to write a blog. Perhaps blogs have just become a socially acceptable narcissism, encouraged by our own voyeuristic desires to watch other people live out their lives? I know for a fact that many of us, dear reader, keep in contact online with people we would not otherwise interact with out of sheer entertainment or curiosity (usually both!).

I must state first and foremost that I solemnly swear to never talk about someone behind their back on this blog. As M so eloquently put it, it is pathetic. That is all I have to say on the matter, as I fear discussing this further would violate my promise before I even finish the paragraph.

I must also apologise for the somewhat formal tone of this post. I just finished writing a philosophy essay and the Little Voice in My Head who tricks the marker into thinking I'm a philosopher has not yet left the building.

So, how was your day dear? I hear you ask. Lovely thank you :) It was great to see Rara and Vollies during Prosh week. I was very sad that I missed out on seeing some poor guy get kicked in the dick in the name of university entertainment. Luckily, i did bear witness to Flaming Mangina. Enough said?

After uni, I had the pleasure of Cynic's company for the short work between the tram and Dad's work. It was quite possibly the best 10 minutes of my day. Thank you :)

That's all for now, but I think if we all cross our fingers and toes, I might just post again :)