Saturday, August 17, 2013

Oh Uni, How Familiar

I have recently returned to University for my (potentially) last semester of my very long degree and it almost feels new again. Last semester I did not attend a single lecture (they were all too early in the morning) and did not find it necessary. This semester though, this final semester, in my fourth year of attending University.... I have decided to actually be the responsible organised student that I've been promising to be next semester each and every semester. It's going well so far. I attend lectures and those I can't (and some I legitimately can't) I listen to online. I read my textbooks and I finished an essay more than a week before it was due so I would have more than a week to work on another one. I'm doing so well.

And oh boy does it feel good to have it all sorted out for once. I'm doing a first year unit. An intro to the general idea of everything it seems called Ideas in Action. Different lecturers come in and say things about community vs autonomy and witch trials and all sorts of things. It's great because I walked in to this lecture theatre after not having been in a lecture since 2012 (and even then my lectures were all small theatres hidden in the humanities department building) but this... this theatre is huge. It's two stories tall at least and it is filled with hundreds of eager students with their ipads, laptops, pens, pencils, notepads, textbooks, highlighters, binders, and of course: that fresh faced look that says "I'm new here."

It is the iconic University experience. The massive theatre that's filled with a sea of faces that all look down at the tiny old professor talking about some subject that they find endlessly interesting whereas a lot of us are just learning about to pass this unit and go onto other, more interesting, subjects. It was both nostalgic and new all at once. It was the kind of lecture you see briefly in movies, not the kind of lectures I was used to where we would get told about the conventions and techniques of those movies. It feels great. It feels like I'm taking part in something.

Then I go to class for this 1st year unit and everything is just adorable. They've assigned us an 800-1000 word essay and oh gosh it's tiny. It's positively bite sized. All these first years are all so clueless. The tutor talks on and on about things and she is ever so helpful and understanding. She is really keen to make sure all those bright young first years are comfortable asking questions on things they're not sure about (and they are not sure about a lot of things) and it's all just so amusing to have put myself in such a relatively simple environment. While she was talking to the class about very basic essay related things like structure and choosing to express a single argument etc I was busy ignoring her and writing it anyway. I nearly finished it in class and would've had I not periodically interacted with the people around me/turned away to pretend to listen.

That may paint me in a bad light what with the whole not paying attention in class and being pretentious about it but I do actually aim to learn... just if you're going to spend half the class discussing the basics of essay writing then I don't need to really pay attention. I've been there, done that, repeat a dozen times over and then repeat again. Like I said, I'm actually being a responsible Uni student and doing work. I plan on evenly spacing everything out to minimise the rushed attempts to finish near crunch time that leads to being shut away in a room for hours on end with no distractions. I know I cannot do everything a week and a half in advance forever but that's OK because the more I get a headstart on now the less I'll need to do later.

Yes. I did it. I beat procrastination by simply just not procrastinating. I learned a valuable lesson last semester which was just that: do things sooner in advance and everything will be fine. Thankfully now I am doing only essay based units instead of film production units so I have this thing called "time". So much time and I know that if I don't waste my time I will enjoy my time a lot more.

Here's to a successful and slightly less stressful final semester!

Saturday, August 10, 2013

The Beach Beneath the Cliff

Yesterday I was bored. I was overcome with the feeling of being cooped up indoors. I'm normally a very indoors person but sometimes I get restless and need to move around and the way to deal with this involves exercising until I am physically tired. I feel the urge to adventure.

So that's what I did.

The sun was setting and the post-rain clouds that covered most of the sky lit up with this beautiful orange glow. My friend and I had driven to the beach because I had no real plan to this adventure. There didn't need to be a direction or end goal, there just needed to be something. The sunset was so pretty it annoyed the hell out of me because I wanted to photograph it and I hadn't brought my DSLR with me. Yes, I am the kind of person who gets annoyed at how beautiful the natural world is if it means I miss an opportune photogenic moment. Curse you nature for being really nice to look at!

Next up: the look out on top of the taller of the sand dunes. It by itself was unimpressive and by this point it was getting dark. At this point my friend decided that hey, if we're going on adventure then fences didn't apply to us so over it we go and onwards towards the coast. The coast, of course, at this particular point isn't so much a nice sandy beach as it is a rocky cliff-face that has a sudden drop onto more jagged rocks. Woo! Rather fine thing to go exploring near at night. (#YOLO)

To the side though we discovered an alcove that hard been carved into the rock. It was a few metres drop to get into it and the sand was heavily littered with rocks larger than us so jumping could result in two outcomes: landing on the sand and breaking our legs or landing on the rocks and dying. We walked around the entire thing considering which parts were best of rock climbing until we found a small entrance of sorts where the rock jutted out in increments of about 2 feet above each other forming a very disfigured natural stair case down into the alcove. We managed to get down without injury.

It was like a secluded miniature beach only a few metres across. The rock had been carved inwards by the tide and so a small cave like structure had formed under the cliff. We sat on two large rocks near the entrance of it and talked about different things like comic books and life while the light of the crescent moon illuminated the waves. Small unidentifiable bugs that would jump away when you shone a light on them walked around near the seaweed. It was peaceful. I no longer felt restless. I decided I had done something worthwhile that day.

When the tide started coming in closer we decided it was time to leave. We parted ways and I went back home. It wasn't the grandest of adventures, I didn't go very far from home, but I explored, I found something new, and I had fun. Even small adventures can be good for you.

Attack of the Quarter Life Crisis

We've all heard of the mid-life crisis: balding head, bulbous gut, grey hairs, and the ever looming reality that you're not as young as you used to be... the fear that maybe you haven't done enough yet weighs down on you, or maybe you're running out of time to do the things that used to make you alive. This leads to the urge to buy an expensive car to impress a young 20-something blonde with similarly expensive plastic surgery. Horrifying.

Boy I hope that doesn't happen to me... I nearly have two arts degrees. I don't think I'll ever afford a fancy car.

But what about the quarter life crisis? The lesser known phenomenon occurs around the same time someone in their 20s is facing the 2nd half of their college/university degree or even scarier: GRADUATION!!! (Dramatic braawwwwwwrrrr). Everything's fine and then suddenly... everything stops.

And it hits: What am I doing? What am I really doing? Do I want this? HAS THIS BEEN A MISTAKE? DO I NEED TO MAKE DECISIONS NOW? Oh no! I'm GETTING OLDER! A few more years and all my dreams will be over and I'll be stuck doing whatever I'm doing! (Whatever that is!)

So then you stop mid-essay and get out your laptop and start blogging about a quarter life crisis in third-person...

The nagging feeling creeps into the back of your head. Something's wrong. How do I fix it? What do I even need to fix? Am I being productive enough? Are the things that I'm doing that are productive even what I want to do? It becomes difficult to understand if things are a waste or not. Not in an apathetic sense, but an unsure fear of the future brought on by the stress of responsibility.

Did our parents feel like this when they were our age? Are we faced with the multitude of choice and are overwhelmed with the reality of *dramatic chord* ADULTHOOD? (Did you really expect answers here? I'm 21. I don't know anything! I'm irresponsible, ignorant, vain, and fear job interviews more than death because let's face it... 21 year olds are immortal and we cannot die until age 30. 27 if we choose to be musicians) That alone cannot be it (unless it is it and I figured it out! Did I win the quarter life crisis? Can someone give me money so I can afford food?) because I do not believe that human motives and issues are so simplistic as to have one basic cause. See it'd be easy to blame the warm embrace of the internet that distracts us into a world of escapism and easy fixes, where we don't need to deal with the difficulties of day to day life because hey look a cat gif! Awwww! Reblog! But that's such a simplistic scapegoat and sounds like something our parents would say so naturally we have to disregard that. Truth is the future is scary and unsure and I believe we aren't failing at tackling it because of the safety net of easy-access endorphins supplied by the internet... I think a lot of us go on the internet a lot because we need something to escape from the uncertainty of adulthood for a while. Life doesn't go away because we have a Tumblr, life continues... just now we have cat gifs and an outlet to complain about how hard taxes and washing machines are. (WHY DO THEY HAVE SO MANY SETTINGS AND BUTTONS? I only ever use one for my clothes! What do I need the rest of these settings for!?)

I'm pretty sure I know what to do. I've been wanting to do it since I was 8. I just don't know how good I'll be at it or how to be more successful. I don't know if I'm trying hard enough to learn how to get better let alone working hard enough to reach my goals. I can't seem to shake the uneasy feeling that whatever I'm doing might be wrong. What if it's a mistake?

But come on... I'm 21. I can screw up. I can do poorly and fail because I have time to get up and try again. I have plenty of time to achieve my goals, I hope. I just need to reassure myself that it's OK to be unsure about things from time to time because I'll figure it out... my parents did. Your parents did. I hope. Did they? No? Oh. Awkward. Well someone's parents has it together so maybe one day we'll be some other worried 21 year old's friend's parents and we'll have it together by then. If we have kids that is... oh gosh I hope I don't start worrying about having kids.

*BRRAAAAAWWWWWWRRRR*

ADULTHOOD.

I need to save my fear of the future until I'm 45 when I'm really running out of time to achieve things. 45 is old. A few mores years left and that's it... all my dreams will be over and I'll be stuck doing whatever I'm doing! (Whatever that is!)

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Every now and then...

...I go into a frenzy of trying to get a job. It's emotionally draining sending resumes off over and over again knowing that I won't get a single email back. Not even a rejection email.

See job hunting is a lot like trying to date 100 different people in a month and you know they're all going to reject you by never calling you. It's really not fun. This is, of course, after sifting through the thousands of jobs that come up that require experience you can't get (because you don't have the experience to get the job to get the experience to get THIS job) so the entire thing seems lengthier and more time consuming than it should be. It starts to feel like a waste of time (time I could be spent earning money or doing productive things like studying for my degree) and in a lot of instances it probably is.

Then something gets in the way and I feel I can only tackle one problem at a time in a linear fashion... Suddenly life improves. Job hunting kills me. It's like actively taking hours out of your day to punish yourself and tell yourself you're inferior to others because you don't own a forklift license (seriously, what is up with all the jobs that require forklift licenses?). Job listings on websites are always disorganised and barely related to the search criteria that returns them. The problem is that all this time spent not being employed or job hunting accumulates to a bunch of money I could've had by now if only I had someone gotten some terrible casual job in some dodgy dank place somewhere (bonus points if the manager was balding and refused to discuss the mysterious mould that was growing next to the employee's lounge) and that always haunts me whenever I stop and think "wow, I really wish I could afford this lens for my camera..."

I just want to get it over and done with. If I get a job I can stop worrying about that job. It's just so tiring... or maybe I have a medical condition. I should probably get that checked out but I'm currently too busy job hunting/complaining about job hunting.

DID YOU KNOW SOME PEOPLE ADVERTISE FOR JOB VACANCIES IN ALL CAPS? THAT'S HOW YOU KNOW THAT THEY'RE INSANE!

Have you ever noticed how simplyhired.com.au and jobseeker.com.au are the same website with a different logo attached? Have you noticed how Seek.com.au is as functional as an alcoholic is at driving? Because I have. I notice them all.

I have it glazed into my eyes.

"Experience needed..." the bane of my existence.

The end of my university degree approaches. I fear the end is coming. Someone come throw money at me and reassure me that I have the good part of a decade left of my 20s to go...

Sunday, July 14, 2013

I hope Tumblr never dies.



I hope Tumblr never dies. I hope the servers stay active for generations to come, long after we are gone and forgotten. I hope the archives remain like a digital archaeological site and people come back to it to sift through the millions of pieces of information to see a glimpse of our generation growing up… Mingled between the homoerotic fanfiction and cat gifs are real life stories of millions of people out there blogging about heart ache, success, moving out, graduating, coming out, sending messages to strangers, creating things. I really want future generations to be able to look back on us. Not history, but us, as people, and from the extensive daily records of our lives come to know us better than the characters they love in books. We’re not just a faded daguerreotype to be pondered over by a curious collector. We are entire books without paper pages. Give it enough time and you will record more to your life than War and Peace.


Could you imagine someone out there falling in love with the memory of someone who died a hundred years ago because of their blog? That seems silly because it’s never happened before but think about it. The static words on a screen, the virtual memorial to your youth, being read by some lost teenager going through the same old problems of growing up and facing life just in a different time… We have these shared basic themes to experience: how to fit in, dealing with the transition to adulthood, being judged for our appearance and coming to terms with the fact that it doesn’t matter. These aren’t limited to our generation even if we don’t really think about our parents struggling with looking in a mirror at age 15…


They could go from the start and watch you grow, watch the progression of your life and get so attached to you and then… your blog ends. The last post has been made. They know you probably lived on past that, that you just moved onto some other website that they’ll never find and you might have spent decades being happy but at the same time… that’s it. That’s the end of the story you have lived and shared and it sinks in and it’ll hurt more than any fictional character because it’s real. You’re dead… you died years ago and it’s too late to send a reassuring message to tell you it’s OK, you’ll get past your problems eventually… They know, because they read on after 2013 and saw that one day you’re happy again, that the mirror doesn’t hurt to be near, that you find love, that you stopped needing those pills to get up in the morning… And after all that all that’s left is dust and words.


But you live on in the faint flickering light of a computer screen displaying the long neglected archives of the autobiography you wrote with words and images many many decades ago… a new way to be remembered.

I'd like to be remembered.

Saturday, July 13, 2013

A Series of Poor Job Application Attempts



Google search: Where do I buy a job?






Go on Seek > Don't have any search criteria other than in my general location > proceed to scroll down past all the jobs searching for experienced chefs that are also registered nurses with forklift licenses and lots of experience in customer service...






dear random


like


I want the job


because I have previous experience and I am a well...


...organis...happ... good talk...


..


I have many qualities


I have... legs






*scrolls down Tumblr for ages*






I think I've been at this for an hour? I haven't applied to anything yet but I've written half an email.






Surprise! I'm here! Give me money?






Message friend: Quick. What's something good about me that's also job related?


Good at socializing.


No, something that's true.


Friendly to people you work with/customers.


No, something that's true.






""If you have good communication skills, could assist another person to develop and maintain new social networks, enjoy working with people and are a good role model in social situations-" Oh f*** I'll be unemployed forever. Ugh.






ONE JOB APPLICATION DONE! WHAT'S NEXT?






...pizza. I can make pizza. But I don't want to shave... suck it up man. Think of the camera gear you could afford if you had a job.






"Dear... you.


I like pizza."


That's relevant for my cover letter yet? Well it's not like I'm going to eat what I make so I could hate it all I care? I hated everything I made at Hungry Jacks so...






Screw it. Send. Send it all.






Time to STOP DOING THIS.






Funds low. Send job.

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Adventures into Responsible Adulthood

Today I went shopping...

...to survive.

Both my sisters have moved out of home and my parents are in Sydney for the week so that leaves me and my younger brother who isn't going to do anything towards maintaining the house so it was up to me to fend for the both of us and buy food. Foolishly I had brought this upon myself by asking my mother to just leave me money so I can practice being a "responsible adult". First up: Dishwasher.

How... is that... am I loading this properly? Can I put cups in that spot? Should I fill that up with blue liquid or... Ok press the button anyway. That's good enough. I don't remember it making that much noise previously when Mum uses it but OK. The red light means it's on so that must mean it is doing something, probably washing the dishes.

While that does its thing I made a shopping list. To see what I needed I looked in the fridge (which was nearly empty) and stared at it long and hard...

"...what... do you normally have in you..." I thought. Honestly I don't remember what goes in the fridge besides yoghurt and we didn't have any of that so I put it on the list. Surely lists are longer than that? Is it just a list if it's one thing but bullet pointed? I heard somewhere that lists look better in threes. After a lot of staring at the fridge wondering what exactly I ate back before I had full control over what I put in my mouth I managed to write down more like "milk" and "cheese". Something else too... Also Froot Loops because damn it mother! I don't care if they're nearly completely just sugar! (She wouldn't buy them because she wanted me to be "healthy". Yeah well I spend most of my time sitting in front of a computer anyway so tough luck on that one)

Off to the shops to buy food for survival and not just fun. I was never a real fan of shopping but now it had the added con of "responsibility" attached to it. Ugh. Oh no. The things I find while stalking between the different isles must sustain me for the week to come... I meandered aimlessly throughout the store, unsure of where anything was but discovering new things as I went a long. There was so much gravy.

So much gravy...

I couldn't find the right cheese so I skipped it and just bought a lot of different kinds of fruit juice. YOLO!

I awkwardly paid the cashier and then walked off with the four plastic bags filled with random foodstuffs only I meant to grab two in each hand but it didn't work and I accidentally grabbed a bag in the middle with both hands and was too awkwardly carrying it away to stop and fix it. I just kinda looked a bit odd carrying these bags in a slightly off manner as I exited the shops...

The things I bought won't last me a whole week... I'm going to have to do this again.

That or lay down and die from starvation. I dunno. One of those. We'll see. Damn adulthood is hard.

Why "We Can't Stop" by Miley Cyrus is Brilliant

It's brilliant and you know it. Even if you hate it.

Especially if you hate it.

Now for those who haven't seen the music video (all 7 of you) watch it now:

What do you see? A trashy non-sensical music video where a 20-something pulls a proverbial middle finger to a non-descript authority and flaunts a sexual image? And also a few random shots of bread?

Yes. That's why it's so good.

It's good because those things aren't bad people just think they are. Miley is well known for her portrayal of Hannah Montana in the family friendly Disney show of the same name. Well that was fine while it lasted but now it's over and she's stuck with that Hannah Montana image that she clearly doesn't want. She's growing up, she's changing, she's not this innocent sweet role model for small children and she doesn't need to be. There are other Disney shows out there people go watch them instead.

What her latest video does is forcefully reject her previous image for the sake of drastically reinventing herself. This is how you destroy an image and make a new one. She's getting a lot of backlash from this in the comments. People are calling her a slut etc, which is 1) slut shaming and 2) gosh darn stupid because "you're meant to be a good role model to kids you slut whore!" is somewhat contradictory.

The song isn't just an attempt to distance herself from her innocent image that drags on her like a weight but a response to the hate she is inevitably getting from this. It literally opens with a message to those who think they can tell her what to do and wear:

It's our party we can do what we want
It's our party we can say what we want
It's our party we can love who we want

The opening verse might as well be "F*** off x10" and rightly so. Does everybody not realise that they are demanding that this person they've never met do what they want and act how they've constructed her in their minds to be? A construct based off a fictional TV show. Do they not realise how weird that is? People are yelling at the horror that is reality not aligning with their personal fictions. They fail to understand that their opinion on the matter starts and ends with whether or not they're willing to spend money on a product. They don't need to care outside of "do I enjoy this music enough to buy it" and they don't realise anything outside of that isn't wanted. She's an entertainer and you either like her entertainment or you don't. You don't get to tell her how to entertain you. They're not just trying to control what she wears but her entire persona and that's messed up. She sees that it and is rebelling against it. Did you not expect her to grow up and change? Did you expect her to be playing the sweet virgin until her 40s? If she never changed anything you'd be busy complaining about "That Destiny Hope Cyrus is such a bad role model for 13 year old girls!" (thank goodness she changed her name. That'd be really weird to see thousands of complete strangers call someone called "Destiny Hope" a slut).

I really love the self affirming lines:

Remember only God can judge ya
Forget the haters cos somebody loves ya

Those lines and the opening verse basically sum up the entire song. People will be judgemental but screw them. They don't matter.

There seems to be a lot of random silly things in this video like oversized teddy bear back packs, bread, stuffed animals, and coins projected onto bread... but I do believe even if a lot of these are for the sake of being unexpected there is one bit with meaning: at 1:43 Miley is in a pool with a "CENSORED" bar over her mouth. Out of all the deliberately sexual imagery in this video she chooses to put a "CENSORED" bar there. Sexual imagery of women pervade our society, but Miley is pointing out how little women are allowed to comment on that. This video and song are deliberately shocking and, as expected, we see the backlash. "Stop saying these things about you having fun and doing what you want! Be quiet! Have fun in ways we approve of!" and her response is "I knew you were going to say that... but no." It's a brilliant mixture of a message and a rebuttal to the response of that message at the same time.

Is Miley a good role model? Does it even freaking matter? Why are you imposing the role model status on her? And really deep down... what did you expect from a wealthy 20 year old with a lot of pressure on her to do if it wasn't rebel and write songs about partying?

Have... have you not... met 20 year olds...?

Saturday, June 15, 2013

Why I'm Uncomfortable With the Idea of "Fans"

I'm not famous, but if I were it'd be weird, especially if it were for my Youtube work. See the idea of being a fan creates this sense of separation between the individual and their audience. You see it every now and then, the avid fan meets their celebrity idol and freaks out, complete fangirling ensues, and it is a messy awkward thing to watch. Sometimes it can get really messy. See, the problem of celebrity is the idolisation of an individual. We put them up on a pedestal and venerate them as greater beings. The idea of celebrity creates a whole new class divide that isn't dependent on wealth or behaviour, but simply being known.

Well celebrities aren't just famous for being famous (though this is actually a thing) and some are astonishingly talented individuals. We're right to adore them but that adoration can only go so far before it turns into idolisation and that is the problem. Idolisation creates an "us" and "them". This distinction is of course backed up by the natural asymmetry between the amount of us vs the very limited them. Their time is taken up being busy doing things we adore them for and so there's never this personal connection and it seems like it is impossible to have any personal connection with a celebrity because of that.

See, I have people who refer to themselves as "fans" of me. I know, they're quite limited, but they exist. They adore my work, they think I'm great, and I've had people get overly excited when I messaged them out of the blue. I've heard of people who want to talk to me because they think I'm cool but don't. It's weird... because, for me, I don't feel like I've really done anything. It's just a few dozen vlogs. But this also unsettles me because this creates this expectation that one day if I reach a level of popularity where I can actually make money off youtubing I am innately different to them. I will become increasingly unapproachable...

"Oh my gosh I can't believe he would message me. This is amazing!" No. I'm... just typing on a keyboard. I do it all the time. Here I am, being me, always me, constantly just existing and part of that entertains you so you find me appealing... Well, thank you. I'm still just a person. And that's what celebrities are too... It's bizarre being the very-very-very-small scale experiment into how "fame" alters the perception of strangers on an individual. As someone who is trying to start working in film it's going to start getting stranger as I put out work that I actually feel is something.

It's weird how magazines and paparazzi simultaneously enjoy building up and then knocking down celebs. Look! They're without make up! They aren't perfect, look at us creepily take images of their thighs while they're at the beach and call them fat so we can simultaneously lower them onto our level so we can feel good about ourselves, but also insult the very nature of being just like us by showing it in an unflattering light that celebrities are encouraged to avoid. They're not treated like people, and when they are it's this strange public sadism that seems like we're trying to enforce some kind of humility on them when we're the only ones who think they're not ordinary people. The mark is missed, the point is warped, the entire thing is strange and confusing. They're just people!

So that's why I am uncomfortable with the term "fan". Because if I have fans then it creates this sense that people are expected to idolise me... I become less approachable. This is a thing that actually happens with Youtubers. The internet has given rise to the micro-celebrity. Youtube becomes people's primary media intake instead of the TV and suddenly the celebrities of popculture are replaced by the internet giants of vlogging. Never has it stressed the fact that the aura of celebrity is an imposed idea, worth collectively given to other people. Ordinary people are suddenly raised up to be on par with Kardashian's in the minds of adoring teens all over the world and then we're given a new celebrity image: the kind of person we adore but every now and then denies their celebrityhood and goes "I have no idea how I got here..." because they really don't. They realise that their initiation into celebritydom was an accident and their medium isn't as glamorous as TV so it seems weird, it's unfitting, it's uncomfortable to be thought of as a "celebrity". It should be. Because then they're no longer ordinary people so you can't be friends with them. I think that's why Tumblr loves Jennifer Lawrence so much, because she isn't just talented (and gorgeous) but says such blatantly relatable things that willingly fight against the dehumanising idolisation of the media. We see one of us in her, when really she isn't the exception, she's just not living up to the expectations that celebrity imposes on a person. It shouldn't be a surprise that deep down they're really like us. She eats food and does goofy things on camera and gets star struck herself at those around her - even though she is part of the "them." Even celebrities elevate celebrities. Fame does not inherently uproot a person from being subject to this whole trap of "OMG THEY'RE FAMOUS!" and thus demonstrates just how strange of a system it is.

It's an illusion we create for ourselves because we want to be able to look up at someone. Their work is worth more if they are worth more to us. Celebrity as a label is meaningless without a personal attachment to that which makes someone a celebrity. Of course there's no way to do away with the term fan because this asymmetrical relationship between creators and consumers will forever remain, it is impossible to entirely break down the boundaries created by celebrity culture... but it doesn't mean you have to give in to the idea that being a fan creates a divide between you and your focus of adoration.

So I try not to get star struck. Whenever I run into celebrities I'm pretty chill. They're just really cool people in the end and so I talk to them like they were any one else. I looked up to someone once, then ended up adding them on Facebook and realised... it was like talking to a random 20-something. I've gone from "I really enjoy your work" to adding someone on Facebook before. They still remain cool, and worthy of attention, but they remain a person to me. The thing that stops you from being friends with a celebrity isn't the fact that they are celebrities, but the nature of the distance between you and the limited ways you interact with them. Unfortunately talking to someone behind a panel for a few minutes at a convention doesn't really help foster a friendship, but outside of that environment you never know... Treat them like people and you might have a really nice conversation with them.

And for crying out loud don't hyperventilate when you meet someone you admire because it is just super awkward for them...

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Issues With Self-Examining Identity

I've been thinking a lot about the concept of how we define ourselves as a person. I've started the idea of making an "About Me" video once every year to chart the progress of me as a person. I refer to vlogging as a form of "visual autobiography" which is in itself problematic in terms of representation and its inherent constructed nature. The basic issue is that because I choose what to present myself as, I thus create a subjective representation as a front to the world as a whole. It isn't an inherent fiction, but is not an accurate reality either.

So how does one define the self accurately? I'm not sure there is a system that is all encompassing that enables an individual to properly define and convey identity and individuality through anything but prolonged exposure to a person. Think about who you are as a person (an abstract and intangible idea) and then try to describe it in words. For example: I am a nice person. But what is nice? Nice as a word is solid, without spectrum, and thus suddenly creates both a strict and confined category, but also an inherently subjective one as you are now trying to convey to someone else your meaning through a sign system that is flawed because you have your own personal idea of what "nice" is based on your context and personal history, that is not the same as their idea of what "nice" is. I'm nice because I don't actively insult people. Someone else's idea of nice is that they go out of their way to be considerate of helpful to others. To some this then is very nice. This "very" thus creates a sense of spectrum. There's nothing to compare it to and if you did, you cannot convey the comparison point to another person without assuming they innately understand that too from their reference point in the hopes that they align.

Creating a list of qualities that describe a person begins categorising yourself based off unclear criteria. There is no objective scale to the validity and intensity of these criteria. You can be a bit nice, just nice, very, not very, extremely, a lot, pretty, normally, often nice, etc... These then create approximations as guidelines. Well isn't that enough? We are surrounded by the subjectivity and issues of connotation vs denotation of language in our everyday life. This issue here is a universal issue and thus as it is normalised isn't it irrelevant? A person does not need to be definable by words (seeing as this is in itself difficult and vague).

Well we then must examine how someone constructs their own identity. There are so many different factors outside of personality traits that a person can find as an integral part of their identity. For example their sexuality, nationality, or their commitment to a specific community such as Nerdfighteria. They then divide these into either facets of defining features. Now I'm a nerdfighter, but I don't view this as an integral part of who I am. It is an addition to me, not what defines me as a person because, as I see it, it has not altered my personality, merely aligned perfectly with the qualities I already held as part of the core of who I am. Other people choose very much so that being a Nerdfighter is what they are. Similarly a person can have a strong patriotic association with their country, but others may simply think of themselves as "Australian" simply because that is where they happened to be born. Another way of looking at it is this: Lindsey Stirling plays the violin and she is a violinist. Einsten played the violin, but he is a physicist. The things we do and are play smaller or larger parts in how we construct our own identities given how much weight we attribute to them.

I personally have no patriotic sense of Australia in a nationalistic sense, but I do love the idea that due to geography I am Australian. When summer comes, it is an Australian summer. When the air wraps around you like a warm blanket and the eucalyptus leaves have dried out and saturated the air with their scent. Native birds fly overhead and there is this very sense that is Australia. There's no politics involved, this is simply a shared experience of atmosphere and iconic flora/fauna that others around can identify with on a personal level. It is my childhood, it is my day to day life, it is not merely a tourist experience but a strong sense of seasonal nostalgia.

We now find that simply listing "I am Australian" is an over simplification of a person because we both require a definition of the category, but also the motivation for that category. Identity is inherently complex not just as a concept, but to explain it.

I also recently thought about my self-conception of my identity as a fixed point vs the reality of its fluidity. When driving along I realised that I often describe myself as an introvert who hates making phone calls because they stress me out. But I am increasingly more capable of picking up phones and just making phone calls. Suddenly reflecting upon my identity in terms of personal qualities had proved problematic because it had solidified it when in actuality it was in flux. I'm 21, I have not finished going through big changes in my life to reach a point of safety and calm in my development as a person. In fact, that might never come. After University is moving out, dating, marriage, children, as children grow up and change so does my role as a parent, middle age, children moving out, retirement, etc... death of loved ones destroys the idea of me as a part of a bond between two or more people.

How can I understand my identity if I never examine it? But if I examine it I create a constructed image that can become outdated. Schroedinger's Self-Conception. Self reflection becomes important to self understanding. Alternatively identity can remain as an abstract concept not consciously understood but demonstrated through actions and thoughts without having to filter through the subjective personal bias of your own insecurities and self esteem. One of my favourite faux-philosophical questions to ask in a satirically-pretentious fashion when asked "who are you?" is "who are any of us? Can we really know the self?" Only now have I started to really think about it in depth.

Of course we know who we are... we are who we are who we know we are. You are as you are. But you don't need to put it into concrete words because they will always be inadequate for appropriately encompassing the complexity that is you. A person can be defined by their interaction with their surroundings and that is good enough I think. After all, words are but ideas, but actions are demonstrations of those ideas. I'm not a musician because I can play an instrument but because I play it with the purpose of engaging with it in a sense that demonstrates that I am. I am Australian because in my mind I react to the stimuli in a way that I find suits my abstract idea of what it means for me to be Australian. I have only managed to put it into words through practice of expression and over 2 decades of experiencing that stimuli so that I have adequate knowledge to construct those sentences.

So yeah... define yourself through actions not words I think is the eventual conclusion to this.

My Dick Is a Commentary on Stereotypical Masculinity

A while ago I made a video entitled "My Dick":

You should watch it. You'll love watching my dick. When you look at My Dick it'll make you laugh.

Far from being just 3 minutes of non-stop dick jokes it is something deeper and more intelligent than that. It is a commentary on typical expressions of masculinity. The conventional method of affirming one's superior masculinity is to exaggerate and brag about the issue of size of the manhood. I took this concept and parodied it by taking the saying "it's not the size that matters, but what you do with it" and expanding upon the idea of things that you can do with it to the point of absurdism. With impossible statements like "my dick knows kung fu" and "my dick creates liquid nitrogen..." the idea of traditional forms of masculinity are shown as sub-par. The criticism is indirect, but effective. By positing the idea that the competitiveness between dicks to assert dominance is inherently absurd through a constructed example we can link this back to the basic form that it exaggerates and see that comparing dick sizes is stupid. Paradoxically we manage to affirm our masculinity through a mixture of immaturity and intellectual criticism of the very system that we are utilising to affirm our own masculinity. Through insincerity we escape the obvious insecurity that bragging about dick size tries to cover up. This comfortableness with our own masculinity and sexuality is further demonstrated by the fact that we have decided to sit in bed together to discuss our dicks, with no sense of discomfort or fears that the image of two men in bed together is seen as the exact opposite of masculine in contemporary society. It is a challenge to the heteronormative ideas of society by showing off something that is seen as masculine and heterosexual in juxtaposition to a homosexual setting. Ultimately the idea of phallocentricism is seen as a self-serving egotism that is shallow and empty as it requires competition with others through fictional statements.. As comparison with another male is unimportant as our dicks are not for service of the other it is the realisation that such a competition is pointless. In the end neither of us really wins.

This commentary on contemporary expressions of masculinity is perhaps my most underrated and intelligent dick joke I've ever made.

Also, John Green had a competition called "Nerdfactor" recently where to enter we had to send in our best videos as a video response and he'd watch them all then pick a winner to do a guest vlog in his absence. I sent in "How to Love Yourself"  It didn't win but I realise now I have passed up a golden opportunity to have submitted "My Dick" because then I could say with all honesty "John Green has seen My Dick" and the joke would've been almost worth erasing all possibility that I would even remotely have a chance of winning that competition. Oh well.

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Why Star Trek Into Darkness Was Terrible.

My friend was shocked that Star Trek Into Darkness had been out for however long and I hadn't seen it. She had expected me, in my infinite nerdiness, to have been there on the day it was out dressed up as my favourite character and ready to go. Her obvious misguided ideas of just how nerdy I am aside, I was actually expecting myself to have seen it sooner too. Star Trek, although not my favourite sci-fi franchise is still enjoyable. I was eager to see it as I remember having enjoyed the first of J.J. Abrams' Star Trek movies.

Alas, I was very disappointed.

It starts off pretty well, with action, intrigue, and some wonderful foreshadowy tones with a near deadly scenario involving Spock in a volcano which leads to some interesting exposition on Spock's character as a half-human later on. This scene though turns Uhura into an emotional love-sick wreck and makes her not only a useless fop, but her whingy feminine bickering and completely stereotypical womanly inability to control her emotions leads to endangering Spock and Kirk later on while she's distracting them from their surroundings. This is where the issues with Star Trek begin. I was hoping, wishing, throughout the film that Uhura would overcome her uselessness and become a character in her own right with depth and emotions outside of "whingey" and "irritated". She is a translator, that is her special gift that allows her to stand proud against all the men whose basic skills guarantee them importance, and does she get to show this off? You bet she does!

Yaaaay! Not really. Her moment to shine by saying a few random things in Klingon is basically a chance to stall before the white male (meant to be a not-white male but whatever. For once whitewashing a character makes the vaguest sense - after all, the alternative would be to make the only dark skinned main character besides Uhura a villain. The brave whites vs the evil dark skinned guy is too common an unfortunate trope these days so what is clearly not an intentional attempt to avoid racism inadvertently is mildly redeeming enough to simply conflicting, instead of outright offensive to me) comes in to save the day. Uhura's only worth is as a distraction, not as an individual with agency over the situation.

Let's take a pause from this feminist reading of Star Trek to point out that yes, it has other flaws outside of race and gender. For starters, a lot of the shots were ever so slightly out of focus. It annoyed me so much because it went from crisp and sharp... to slightly blurry. I'd punch that focus puller in the face if only I had hands and also was a violent individual.

As a film based off a series that was meant to be progressive, especially for it's time (but still can be seen as progressive now considering it is always seen as special when non-whites are cast as main characters), it is sad to see something so utterly terribly misogynistic and devoid of substance. It had been glossed over into a very straightforward Hollywood action romp set in space which is not what it is meant to be. Even worse is J.J. Abrams is stuck in this delusional bubble where nerdy things are inherently masculine and therefore cannot imagine a woman being part of his audience. You know who is a big fan of Star Trek? My mother. I went to see it with a female friend, who had already seen it, first person to talk to me about it when I arrived home was a woman, former girlfriends have loved Star Trek so much, I know a woman with a Spock tattoo. I actually honestly think I know more nerdy women into Star Trek than I do guys. Whenever I've been in a comic book store it has been with women. First time I walked in there was a female staff member. Whenever I go to comic conventions the people I bump into are my female friends and only very rarely a guy I know. Being a nerd is not an idea reserved for socially inept men whose interaction with women is predominantly fantasies that get played out on screens.

That kind of thinking is stereotypical and insulting. To the writers and director of Star Trek: Women don't exist for the sake of the male gaze. Women do not exist for the sake of the male gaze. 

There is of course more women than Uhura. In order I believe there are some sexy cat ladies who have slept with the dashing young Captain Kirk and have no depth outside of being sexual, then there's the woman in the bar that Kirk desires to hit on but is interrupted, then there's the blonde Carol Marcus who is an intelligent doctor, science officer, and weapons specialist. Sounds like the recipe for a strong female character who is a role model and inspiration to the large amount of women watching this film right? Wrong. Granted, she has more depth than the cardboard cut out resembling Uhura that somehow manages to speak out of its paper lips, she isn't just regarded as barely useful to the plot but her usefulness is overshadow by her overt sexualisation for the sake of encouraging the audience to objectify and fantasise about her. She isn't using her sexuality to manipulate those around her and utilise this misogyny for her own gains like a proper empowered woman would, she is simply trying to do her job and cannot escape her degradation let alone object to it. Her singular moment of worth in the plot is when she tells Kirk that she thinks the missiles - which Scotty has already stated - are dodgy and she wants to open one. Huzzah! She is smart! She is actively progressing the plot! But what? For some reason this entire conversation involves her leading Kirk into a shuttle where she proceeds to strip off her clothes, presumably to change into something more appropriate for going to a planet. She tells Kirk to look away, of course, but when he disregards her wishes and privacy she poses sexily and dismissively tells him to turn around again. This gratuitous stripping is simply forced in making that particular plot point bizarre, but also provides the trailer with sufficient sexual allure to yep, you guessed it, appeal to all the horny nerdy fan boys. See what I mean about assuming the audience is strictly male? We would've fantasised about her anyway, being the sexy blonde, but now our male gaze gets catered to directly. Her worth in that scene is belittled by the unnecessary transformation of her into a sex object.

Moments later, on the planet with Bones, she is doing SCIENCE (something that Bones doesn't really know about, which I will explain later). Very important of course to the plot, but Bones cannot help but treat this chance to be near a woman as a reason to flirt incessantly. The audience is encouraged to continuously think of her as a sex object instead of noticing how influential and intelligent she is currently being. Her lack of interest in Bones's advances are irrelevant because her interest is not the point, the tantalising dangling of her in front of us is. She is never seen as useful without being directly juxtaposed with being a sexual being whose presence is directly or indirectly for the aesthetic enjoyment for the audience of the male cast. Once she has led a man towards discovering the horrifying secret of the photon torpedoes she goes back to being of little importance to the plot. Meanwhile Uhura is off being emotional? I dunno. Does anyone really care at this point? What exactly encourages us to engage with Uhura or care about her as a character besides a sentimental attachment to her original construction in previous Star Trek media? Her utter lack of characterisation or motivation outside of "I'm an emotional woman and I'm incapable of being heroic outside of being lovesick, whereas men are heroic because it is masculine" is boring.

Apparently the writer apologised via and will be mindful in the future. I hope he is, but he is a grown man and should've had the forethought and critical thinking skills to begin with to realise that it wasn't just terribly objectifying, but also really didn't make sense plotwise for her to lead Kirk to a private area where she could have told him to easily leave before stripping. It wasn't some accidental mishap it was obnoxiously intentional. Abrams addressed this on Conan (video can be found here) by debuting a deleted scene of Benedict Cumberbatch having a shower. Abrams justified it by saying it demonstrates how Kirk is a womaniser and this is just giving an opportunity to show off this as well as bring "balance" because he wasn't dressed earlier. Well earlier on in the film, as I've already stated, we see that Kirk has had a one-night stand with not just one, but two sexy women and then later wishes to pick up a woman at a bar. It has already been established that he is the kind of person who does this. Abrams' comment of "editing the scene poorly" to explain why it was so negatively received is irrelevant as the scene, regardless of how it was edited, is unnecessary. Another note on balance: Kirk's sexual prowess is seen as an addition to his character, whereas hers is a defining feature. Kirk is exercising his sexual desires because he wants to and when he isn't intending to be sexual no one treats him or his body as sexual, whereas she has an aura of sexuality imposed upon her constantly, she is never ever seen as a worthy individual or instrumental to the plot without this constant sexual overtone. Even when she is trying to work. She is not defined outside of that whereas Kirk is therefore there is no balance, there is a constant blaring inequality in how characters are being approached and addressed due to their gender. Furthermore, the deleted scene with Benedict Cumberbatch having a shower does nothing to negate this as, for starters, it is deleted, and the top half of a man is not nearly as sexualised as a woman's body. Sure, many women would enjoy it, but it still is merely a few seconds of a man simply standing there, not overtly trying to be sexual. The issue is not that a woman hasn't got clothes on, it is that her clotheslessness is for the sake of arousing the male audience, not adding to the depth of her character. The movie screams "I am constructed around the male gaze and have no recognition of anything I, the director, do not find inherently appealing to my masculinity!"

Fast forward and it is revealed that SPOILERS: Admiral Marcus is evil and plans on killing everyone on board the Enterprise. Carol the rescue! She is his daughter and thus if he knows she's here he won't fire. Well that's why the beaming technology exists... She's captured by her father and her brief attempt to be important simply places her in the position of damsel in distress for Kirk to save. Just like Uhura, when she actually needs to take an active part in the story she serves as a temporary distraction for a man to do something infinitely more useful. In this instance the firing on the Enterprise stops so momentarily for Scotty to mess around in engineering.

Explosions ensue. At this point in the story if you have been watching you should be able to predict everything that happens next, or if not, be able to predict 5 minutes before it happens as the plot progresses. See, the first 2 acts where reasonably solid as far as story goes (though seriously, why put people in a torpedo? You're trying to save them so you put them in something designed to blow up) but now it starts falling apart. By now Bones has randomly injected all of his sample of Khan's blood into a random dead Tribble because... why the hell not? Damn it Jim! Bones is a doctor not a scientist! As seen in the very start, and later explicitly said, Khan's blood has remarkable regenerative properties. It's a wonder drug! So lets put every last drop of it in a dead ball of fur. What Bones hopes to achieve is never explained but it is pretty clear thanks to the opening scene and the conversation between Spock and Spock that there is such intense foreshadowing that someone is going to die and that Khan's blood is the golden elixir that saves the day. It was so utterly predictable that all emotion from the scene was erased. I sat there, as the obvious homage to Wrath of Khan with the hands against the glass (look closely you'll see a continuity error between close ups and mid shots) played out, and quietly laughed to myself. I didn't think "oh, that's sad" I thought "well duh... come on then Spock, how long until you figure out what the solution is? Because we all know it." The most important death scene was funny to me. Let that sink in as a reflection of the quality of that plot device.

So blatantly obvious is this plot progression from here that all suspense is gone, tension is merely boiled down to how long it takes for the next thing to happen, and I could start ticking off narrative elements as listed in any of my screenwriting textbooks. See, I know the basic structure that hollywood plots follow, we all do, me especially considering I've studied them, but normally when watching things they don't blatantly consciously remind me that they're ticking off a checklist of archetypes and plot points laid out by Christopher Vogler in The Writer's Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers.

Well, this predictable shambles of a third act is actually enjoyable despite the obvious resolutions to every conflict. Not all of it is bad. The issue that arises is that Uhura, in her only time to actively do anything of worth, is not an instrument of resolution in any heroic sense as she could be. Using the somewhat nonsensical plot device that you can't beam a person up from a moving surface but you beam them on to one (didn't they beam up Kirk and Spock while they were in freefall in the other Star Trek film? A far faster movement than the non-descript flying metal bricks that Spock and Khan have their final showdown on. Though my father points out that he thought it was interference causing the issue there which a) I don't remember anything about and neither do the people I ask b) even if it were true it still poses a similar issue of being nonsensical that something that affects the beaming technology one way doesn't the other) Uhura interrupts the fight between Spock and Khan, a fight that could potentially have gone Spock's way eventually as all fights between evil and good go, with some last minute bit of ingenuity on Spock's part, and distracts Khan long enough for Spock to get the upper hand. Once again, her use is basically serving as an emotional distraction for men to swoop in and save her after she has deliberately and recklessly endangered herself.

Now some might defend this by pointing out that this is the normal thing in sci-fi because it is inherently seen as a masculine genre, thus this is just a staple of that genre. Well telling me it is ubiquitous doesn't disregard my problems with the misogyny, it merely demonstrates just widespread of a problem it is. See, in recent comic book movies (comic books are a genre considered as pulp fictiony and lower class corny sci-fi as you can get) they have still managed to combine over the top sci-fi action with strong female characters who go outside of their roles as the emotional love interests. The Black Widow and Pepper Pots being two examples of different female characters who play active roles in their plots. Pepper, despite her tendency to be emotional, her shock and alarm at her dangerous surroundings, and inevitable role as the damsel in distress as her position as the superheroes girlfriend, manages to still influence the plot and be instrumental to the resolution of the conflict by overcoming her own damsel status. She is only ever partially reliant on men around her and only at her weakest. Her personality is capable of coming up against Tony Stark's demanding and troublesome ego and walking away smug and superior. Comic books themselves are currently being heavily criticised for their sexism and blatant overtly objectified poses of female characters and yet their film counterparts manage to ascend past this into the realms of respectability and worthwhile well constructed entertainment. There is no restriction of genre that prevents women from being properly, let alone adequately, represented as people. Why then has a franchise, which in its original form, that was so progressive managed to go backwards with age?

It's the kind of movie where all the men involved rush to defend it with "we don't hate women! They're our favourite thing to have sex with!" and it is disappointing. Really, in the end my favourite female character was the overweight black woman with a shaved head who never spoke. Why? Because she is the only female in the entire movie (besides extras in the street) who breaks free of the conventional (read: outdated) idea of what a woman should act and look like. She's not emotional, she's not a love interest, she isn't unnecessarily sexualised, and she sits and does her job, whatever it is (I assume it is important because she is on the bridge). She is a non-skinny black woman with no hair. She is the most progressive representation of a woman in a mainstream movie I've seen in a very long time...

And she is so unimportant she might as well not have been there and there wouldn't have been a difference... because only conventionally attractive people matter to plots in Hollywood. Oh, actually I just remembered there was another girl present who had white hair who also didn't say anything... Women exist. They just don't really matter very much.

Outside of the technical issues, the predictable plot, the lack of resemblance to the original Star Trek, and the incredibly poor representation of women to the point where I got angry enough to write a blog post this long... it is actually a decent movie. Though really, those things annoyed me enough that I don't feel like watching it any time again soon. I would be fine not watching it again ever.

The franchise will survive J.J. Abrams. It will be remade. It will be fixed. One day it will return to its progressive roots. Once again women will be properly represented in sci-fi... have hope Trekkies, this franchise will not end here. Not like this. The uncountable hordes of female fans won't disown this franchise just because of this because they will wish so long and hard for it to return to a state where it does not offend them that they will continue to poor money into it, because that's what a lot nerd culture is made out of... women. Hopefully the Executives and J.J. Abrams will realise this and alter their approach so that the series can improve because right now it is awful.

Saturday, May 25, 2013

There's No Sense of Ending This Semester...

Semester is "over". It doesn't feel over. I have exams which is weird because I don't normally have those for my course, nor do I have multiple at the same time. Even more strange is how this semester didn't end with a bang but a whisper...

See, I've done Film. Now I'm doing English. The difference between these are so immense it is like having grown accustomed to being beaten across the head only to suddenly be handed icecream. One of my teachers complained he thought his class was being lazy, as if they thought that literature was easy and the problem is: to me it is. Hence why, despite him obviously being a hard marker and me handing in my essay late, I did really well on it. What's hard about sitting down and writing an essay? My fingers are practically glued to a keyboard it's not like I even had to do anything but minimise the internet so I could sound intelligent somewhere else.

That sounds really braggy, and I'm sorry. I haven't always been this good at writing essays but I've been doing it for years. I'm halfway through my 4th year at University, I've written so many essays I've lost count. That's why, when suddenly there's no 5am starts to get to a film set for the entire day and being entrusted with several grand worth of expensive equipment, I think "wow. This is relaxing." Because it's something I can do and I can spend time doing it whenever I want. The only pressure that arises during essay writing is when you've started it too close to the due date.

I handed in my assignments while offering those around me chips. I spent a lot of my time on the final submission day hanging around with a friend before I'd actually sat down in a library to finish off my assignments. It was so casual, so stress free, so relaxing and simple and easy and... and...

It feels wrong. It feels horribly, horribly wrong.

I'm sitting around now not doing anything because... today is an average day? It's the day after final assignments are due! I should... celebrate? I should relax and take a break from all the stress? But there isn't one? My expectations have not been met. I did not become a wreck and come out of it triumphant and so sleep deprived that my bed became more important than life itself. There's no sense of... accomplishment.

It didn't challenge me enough so I don't feel accomplished. Now that's an odd first world problem now isn't it? "It wasn't hard enough." Oh waaaa. Waaaa. Boo-hoo.

But come on... you love it don't you? The day after. The excuse to lie down. The relief that floods your bones and loosens your muscles. That mental load you shove off and sigh away. The smile that creeps across your face as you realise it's over. You survived!

I... just... did... things. Does that feel worth it? Is it worth it if I'm not being challenged?

I hope so.

I've got exams, so maybe that will be a challenge? My past experience with University exams is that they're easier than expected. I study tons and then... realise I could've studied less. But I'll do it just in case. I want to have that push to be great. I'm not done being a student, and being a student means I still have things to learn. So I guess I'll start knuckling down, revising the things I learned this semester, and tackle those exams head on.

Then I can get my feeling of a well earned ending.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

I Survived Groovin The Moo 2013

I have the privilege to do volunteer photography at a bunch of music festivals (Southbound, Blues and Roots, and most recently Groovin the Moo) which is a pretty sweet gig. I get to walk around taking photos of people and can walk in and out of the festival thanks to the magic powers of the "STAFF" wristband and there's nothing stopping me from watching bands while I work for a few hours. I don't get paid but I get in for free.

After a bit of a road trip southward bound with friends we arrived at a carpark reserved for staff. There were two cars for the photographers (good ol' carpooling) but only one car would fit because someone had decided that one carpark space was insufficient and deliberately parked partially in two spaces. Naturally my friend wrote "you are a prick" on a piece of paper and put it on the front of the car for them to find. They had to know... they just had to know.

Then we arrived at staff registration where we were told we had to sign a form that said we were only allowed to use a "SRL camera" (unfortunately we had only brought real cameras). I didn't have to start my shift until 2 so I decided to walk around and watch the bands. First up was Foam (aka Nirvana 2: The Return of the 90s) that was led by a dude with hair so long that it looked like he was a mop with legs and a nose who was channeling the voice of Kurt Cobain the best it could. At one point I yelled out "Play Smells Like Teen Spirit!" and the guy next to me laughed. They announced they had one last song, started playing it, then realised they didn't have time and walked off promptly and politely so the band on the stage right next to them could start playing. What fine young lads.

The thing about the crowd at GTM is it isn't 18+ only so you get lots of teens. You've got the 14 year old kid with the 2010 Justin Bieber haircut, the 15 year old groups of girls with braces that clearly have somehow managed to get their hands on alcohol somehow, 16 year old boys on the prowl for hot teen chicks, and whatever other assorted teenage hipster-esque types you can think of thrown in and then segregated from the majority of the adults by a fence that surrounded the bar. As I was watching the rock bands on the triple J stage there was this one adult in a black trench coat, top hat, beard, piercings etc... the kind of serious looking dude you'd expect at a metal concert. He was watching the bands and looking around at all the teens and I could tell in his head he was thinking "I don't belong here... there are way too many kids for my liking... I've made a mistake."

There's something about teen fashion today that looks, to me, like a mixing pot of 60s, 70s, and 90s. There's certain kinds of clothes you could list from each decade and then play bingo with them. I lost count of the amount of blonde girls I saw wearing green cargo jackets. My friend and I were discussing how there were archetypal examples of fashion and how this created this feeling of generic familiarity. We had photographed crowds before and so when looking out at the see of faces it posed the question "do I know that person, or are they just a generic hipster?" As the words left my mouth I pointed to a random individual and then realised... hang on. I DO know that generic hipster! Then I rushed over to say hello.

But back to the fashion. There were all these 15-17 year old girls walking around with tight clothes and denim shorts so short they nearly weren’t shorts at all and I kept looking at these women thinking “Geez… cover yourselves up… it’s really freaking cold. How are you not freezing your nearly visible butts off? I’m wearing multiple layers and I’m cold!” It was ridiculous. How did they not realise that it wasn't summer anymore? Kids these days have no respect for the weather conditions. They party hard regardless.

Doing crowd photography is pretty simple. Stand around with a camera. It is like bait on a hook and if no one bites then simply wiggle the bait... the bait being the camera and the wiggling being asking someone for a photo. Frequently they'll agree, and when nearby people see you doing this they suddenly realise your purpose. You're the camera guy. It doesn't matter that they don't know what exactly your reason is for having a camera because the most important part to them is the fact that you have a camera. Suddenly the relaxing standing around is interrupted by a bunch of teens running up going "can we have a photo!? Can we have a photo!?" Which, of course, they can. It is my job. Then they would demand another one which... OK. You're only getting one uploaded but whatever. Then they thanked me, hugged me, and told me how wonderful I was which was super uncomfortable... who wants a bunch of drunk teenage girls touching them without warning or permission? Thanks? (Fortunately only a few did that but still... ask before you surround a person and embrace them all at once people...)

After taking hundreds of photos we have to sort through them to figure out which ones are acceptable to upload to Murdoch's Facebook page. For instance: any of them with people doing rude gestures are not allowed. At other festivals that sort of thing is pretty easy to avoid but at GTM for some reason teenage guys would see you taking a photo and quickly lean in from the side to give you the finger. Thanks dude? What does that achieve? I'm not taking the photo until you a) go away b) go away. I'm not blind. Anyway, the joy of the sorting process is that I get to sit down with food in front of a laptop (I bought chips. They were really fresh. I could tell because they tasted like dirt...) which just so happens to be in a tent bordered by the DJ stage at the rear of the festival where people uninterested in the real live bands can party hard to dubstep...

Constant dubstep. Constant loud dubstep. With such classic dubstep remixes as: Smells Like Teen Spirit Dubstep, Thriftshop Dubstep, Harlem Shake Dubstep, and Skrillex as Skrillex, remixed to be indistinguishable from Skrillex. BRAWWWAAARAWWUBUWUBUWUBUBUBAAAAAAHHH.

Fortunately this led to fellow friends and photographers sitting around and making fun of dubstep to pass the time. We dug into the clichés, the climactic crescendos and bass drops - everything. That sort of thing is my favourite part of getting into these festivals for free. Not the bands, but the company that I spend my time with. I actually don't know the majority of the bands that play at these things. I go with the intention of taking photos and then maybe finding new bands to listen to based off how much they catch my attention live (Cloud Control is one such band I had never heard of before seeing live and now I quite like them). For me it is a chance to hang out with Uni friends I've known for years and relax as well as go off and see a live show if I so choose.

The night neared its end as I watched The Temper Trap (one of the few bands I knew of and the one I specifically wished to see) perform. As they music played I sung along, my breath flowing out as mist in the cold, being illuminated by the light shining off the stage. I love the end of festivals. The favourite band plays, all the effort of the day seeps away, and I'm there watching, listening, engaging with a performance.

In the end it was fun. Sure, there were things that detracted from it but that's festival life for you. That's the story of my first Groovin the Moo experience.

Advice for High School Students

Dear kids in high school right now...

I have some advice for you. Advice I really wish someone had told me when I was in high school because it is kinda super important. It is about the very point of high school. See right now you're probably procrastinating doing some kind of homework that involves polynomial equations (functions? Something?) or reading some bit of assigned literature you'd otherwise be enjoying if only you didn't have to think about it. And for what? None of this is going to be relevant to your future employment right? You're not learning important things like how to do taxes? Well... yes, true. But does that make it pointless? No.

OK so you are simultaneously blessed and cursed right now because you're in high school and that seems like a difficult concept to grasp but it is true. See you're in a golden period of your life where not doing something you don't want to do has no immediate consequences. I managed to avoid doing multiple assignments, hand things in late, and generally not put in effort for half of my high school life. It's possible to get by without actually engaging properly, and some of you probably feel like doing that. "This isn't immediately relevant or obviously to my future so I don't need to do it." If things are hard you can just scrape by, graduate, and forget everything you ever learned about coefficients and all that other weird maths hoo-hah. I know I can't remember a damn thing about anything number related...

But here's the thing, and I'm putting it as nicely as possible so don't get offended... shut up about it and just do the work.

You heard me. Yes, High school may seem pointless learning a bunch of standardised stuff you really don't care about but that is simply a lack of forethought. I did high school. I survived. I'm out of it now and kinda in the real world. Thing is, the very point of high school is to suck. Yes. High school is designed to suck. That may seem blatantly obvious to you but it sucking is only a means to an end not the end itself. Sucking has a purpose. You are going to be faced with a bunch of horrible, bland, boring, uninteresting, and seemingly pointless hoops and loops to jump through which you don't want to do... and the point is to shut up and do it anyway.

Because that's life. High school is a life simulator. Sure, one day you may just get your dream job and there won't be any hoops to jump through so much as casually stroll past once you get there but until then things will most likely suck. You are inevitably going to be faced with things you don't like, like a difficult essay for a University course you're doing. A course actually designed to get you what you want. The real world requires work and the work isn't always going to be fun.

The grand practical skill given to you by high school is not whatever they are teaching you in class (though one class might appeal to you) but the skill of sitting down and doing something regardless of how you feel about it. I love my University courses, I really do. they're interesting and wonderful and looking back I have certainly learned a lot that I will take with me to a future career... but at times it has been awful, dreadful, and dull and I had to do it anyway to continue onwards to the good stuff... and that is just part of life. If you sit around being entitled and thinking you can cruise through things later on because high school lets you then when you step out into the real world you'll trip and fall face first into the ground. You'll be behind and need to figure out how to catch up, to sit down and work for hours on end despite your problems with the task at hand.

They're teaching you how to study. They're teaching you how to work. If they cannot give you a passion for their subject than at the very least that is the gift you must take away from high school.

So next time your schoolwork sucks remember that it sucks for a reason... and do it anyway.