Monday, 31 August 2009
Monday, 24 August 2009
OK, so it is. Tagged on FB, so re-completed for more hilarity.
Go to: http://thesurrealist.co.uk
Put your name in, and generate slogan after each question.
1. What do you say to yourself every morning?
It Takes a Tough Man to Make a Tender JAG (damn straight it does!)
2. What do you want other people to say about you?
Wouldn't You Rather Be JAG? (Yes yes you would)
3. Someone asked you out, your answer is...
Obey Your Jag (I wear the pants, but there's no need to call me Mistress)
4. How would you answer a booty call?
You Press the JAG, We Do The Rest
5. How would you introduce yourself to someone you really like?
Things Go Better With JAG (you'll never want anyone else)
6. To someone you dislike?
Designed For JAG, Engineered To Last (I'll outlive you, bitch)
7. You're in a conversation and you suddenly feel the need to pee, how would you excuse yourself?
JAG Is What We Do
8. Your parents ask you why you got home late, you say...
Central Heating for JAG (aka bedtime!)
9. You're failing a subject, you say...
When It Absolutely, Positively Has To Be JAG Overnight
10. The love of your life asks you to marry him/her, what do you say?
You're in Good Hands With JAG (too right y'are)
11. Your bf/gf is breaking up with you, you tell him/her...
Spreads Straight From the JAG (I'll get over you)
12. Someone told you you're an asshole, you tell them...
Just Like JAG Used To Make
13. What are the best words to describe you?
Bring Out The JAG (and the partay will start!) :)
14. If you're going to have a movie about your life, the title is...
Who Would You Have A JAG With? (JAG, obvs! The one and only...)
15. Your last words before you die...
Doing It Right Before Your JAG
16. Your message to a special someone..
Tense, Nervous, JAG?
17. Title of this post will be...
JAG, Born and Bred
Do your "Home, Sweet Home" doormats read, "Sweet Home, Sweet Sweet Home"?
The Rhetorical Letter Writer
Are you offended when people refer to your style as "unorthodox"?
The Rhetorical Letter Writer
Saturday, 22 August 2009
But people made of even sterner stuff had literally set up camp outside the VCA this past week:
Despite the weather, they were dressed to the nines...
...Resplendent with outrage, indignation and clever banners:
Check it: they even cordoned off Swanston St for us and escorted us to Parliament!
There were performances
and speeches, all in the good name of the VCA:
OMG OMG OMG I don't think you people UNDERSTAND. It's GEOFFREY RUSH, who, like, didn't even GO to the VCA (but then again, neither do I and I still care!) and he gave a super inspiring, well-thought and fairly balanced speech about his point of view which, I cannot stress, was super-mega-awesome, not to mention like heart pumping. GEOFFREY RUSH, PEOPLE, DOES NOT HAPPEN EVERY DAY.
This is the part where we dramatically slow-walked past Flinder's St Station to the theme from Chariots of Fire. The Final Countdown is now stuck in my head, because that's what the band - and the van played - as we commenced the march (it's sadly oh-so-fitting.) They also - appropriately - played R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
News segment here
(From the free
I don't know if we saved the VCA, but we certainly brought it to a lot of people's attention, including, hopefully, Kevin Rudd and Peter Garrett. I want to believe that maybe, in some small way, we changed something, for the better of the future of the VCA.
Friday, 21 August 2009
ANYWAY. I make this point because in a week from today it's DAFFODIL DAY and I bought a bunch (of daffodils) in Coles today and they make my room bright(er) and shiny(er) and (more) cheerful.
I don't know - is Daffodil Day a worldwide thing, or just an Aussie thing? Not important. If you have a mother, father, sister, brother or best friend, there’s every chance your life will be touched by cancer. No matter who you are, Daffodil Day is for you.
My grandfather - on my father's side, who recently passed - was diagnosed with cancer in 2005. I remember, because I was in year 10, and the way my father phrased it was "your grandfather's dying." We were out to dinner, and I promptly burst into tears. It was debilitating, but only physically (only is a relative term here); fortunately, he kept not only his sanity, but most importantly, his personality; his stubbornness, his incredibly generosity, his inappropriate sense of humour, his kind and jolly attitude. It was his second stroke that killed him in the end, but he lived longer than we dared hope.
I came across his obituary the other day, online. It's so beautiful and brings me such joy that he remembered so fondly. The article was a tribute and testimony to his good character, sound judgement, firm principles, and giving nature; the nicest thing a friend said about him was along the lines of "I never met someone who didn't like him."
My grandmother (his wife) is visiting us, and I'm going home next weekend to see her. I went with to pick her up from the airport, and when my father and grandmother started talking about him all the wonderful, funny, irreverent memories came back and it was so down heartening to remember I'll never see him again, but my comfort is in my memory. My grandmother in and of herself is an incredible, inspiring, amazing woman; I rang her about a month later, around my birthday (which was the day after his, but the same time in terms of time zones) to thank her for my gift, and she sounded so strong and upbeat I could hardly believe it. But that's probably where my innate optimism comes from.
Buy a daffodil in the hope that future You will never have to know anyone touched by cancer.
Thursday, 20 August 2009
Which one do you think is me? (Yeah my photography skillzzz are the shiz right? I totally missed our faces...and I wasn't even drinking...)
We went out on Brunswick St on Friday night to the Night Cat and Perseverence. It was, essentially, a man-hunt, but only one of us hooked up. Hooking up for the sake of kind of bothers me. I had a great night - I've never really been out on Brunswick St, except to Bimbo's (several times), so it was nice to see some new places. Perserverence was awesome - well, the music was; the dancefloor, not so much (tiny and crowded) - it was 90s night. The Night Cat - yep, the one and the same Cat Empire named themselves for! - was very cool, where a live band played a Latin-American kind of salsa-jazz. I had a really great time, and fortunately none of my friends got rip-roaring drunk (like vomit-in-the-gutter drunk).
Much as I love going out, being the only sober one and having to look after my friends is a little frustrating, to say the least. It's selfish to say so (and I love all my friends dearly), but I just wish once I could go out and have a good time and not worry about whether someone is throwing up in the bathroom or being felt up by some creepy guy (neither of which is an often occurance but you get my drift.)* I'm just saying: moderation is key, people.
But then I looked at my friends, being silly and giggly and uninhibited, and I almost wanted to feel like that. And I realised I probably could, if I wasn't so cheap. But then it occurred to me; I like being in control. Of myself. I love that I won't (necessarily) fall over in the middle of the road, or be able to stop a guy groping because I'm too drunk to notice, or wake up the next morning and not remember parts of the night before. It continues to frustrate me that people say "I wish I didn't need a few drinks to be confident and comfortable" (because you don't, dammit.)
Anyway, that's my moral aside, and I'm not preaching, promise.
*I should add that quite a few of us went out for dumplings on Saturday night - yeah, big weekend I know - for a friend's 20th, and then went out after. Because I was leaving early (for a wet, wild and windy Open Day at 8.30am the next morn, woot!) it was very relaxed for me, and quite lovely. Drunk freshers were someone else's problem.
Wednesday, 19 August 2009
"The configuration of the VCA is a source of envy among international art schools. Nowhere else in the world are the six creative art forms taught together on the one campus, in the heart of the arts precinct of an appreciative and sophisticated city. The two models that informed the founding of the VCA in the late 1960s and early 1970s were Cal Arts and the Julliard School in New York."
I know you're begging - what can I do? Oh please, tell me, I'll do ANYTHING to prevent the Melbourne Model from spreading its evil disease!* Well, Friday is the uber-rally, when prominent industry members like Cate Blancett and Geoffery Rush are going to be there. 10am, St Kilda Rd entrance to the Southbank Campus (behind the NGV).
If you're not a Melbournite, apart from the obvious (what's WRONG with you?!) --> sign the petition! Yoo who, over here.
*My problem isn't really with the Melbourne Model; although I have epic issues with it, these are largely related to its infancy, the Arts cuts at Parkville (ZOMG don't even get me started on jobs and subject cuts^) and its inflexibility. I just don't think it belongs at the VCA.
^I'm not kidding - about half the lit subjects "aren't being offered in 2009" (read: suck it students this class is FINITO) not to mention almost all of the philosophy classes I was interested in taking and ALL of the now-defunct Diploma of American Studies classes except the overseas intensive one I was lucky enough to take over the break. It's getting to the point where I want to take all my second semester subjects of choice this year because I don't know if they'll be around next year!
[Click to enlarge]
5. The Bahamas
13. Costa Rica
15. The Netherlands
16. Antigua and Barbuda
18. New Zealand
20. The Seychelles
Other notable results include:
The three least happy countries were:
176. Democratic Republic of the Congo
Now ask yourself the same question: "all things considered, how satisfied are you with your life as a whole these days?"
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
I'm not sure how I feel about the film, given I love the book so very very very much and I have made a point of not seeing My Sister's Keeper because the book (which also made me cry, but is so beautiful and heart-breaking) because 1) they changed the ending 2) Cameron Diaz is not the lawyer-mother of the book and 3) it just seems like an injustice to the book. Much as I may love McAdams, she's not the bookish type I imagined Clare to be. Eric Bana can do little wrong for me (I haven't seen The Hulk so we can pretend that never happened) but he's not the womaniser Henry is supposed to be either. Also, although the special effects for his time travel aren't as awful as Twilight's "sparkling" Edward (oh god, the hilarity!) I'm not sure they're quite what author Audrey Niffenegger had in mind when she (or I) visualised him disappearing. But I really can't resist, so even if this film sucks compared to the book, I can drool.
And check it out: the title translates to Te amaré por siempre in Argentinean spanish, which means I will love you forever. Aw. And in German they actually have a word for time traveler; it's zeitreisenden.
Also: does a certain someone remember a young, dorky looking Bana from The Castle? Ha ha.
Monday, 17 August 2009
Saturday, 15 August 2009
Wednesday, 12 August 2009
"Is this the state of feminism today - Britney and Christina pashing Madonna for a bit of attention? Christina on all fours, kneeling next to Dave Navarro's crutch as he triumphantly plays the guitar solo from her song?"
"American women are wealthier, healthier and better educated than they were 30 years ago. They’re more likely to work outside the home, and more likely to earn salaries comparable to men’s when they do. They can leave abusive marriages and sue sexist employers. They enjoy unprecedented control over their own fertility. On some fronts — graduation rates, life expectancy and even job security — men look increasingly like the second sex."
"What is a woman? ‘Tota mulier in utero’, says one, ‘woman is a womb’. But in speaking of certain women, connoisseurs declare that they are not women, although they are equipped with a uterus like the rest. All agree in recognising the fact that females exist in the human species; today as always they make up about one half of humanity. And yet we are told that femininity is in danger; we are exhorted to be women, remain women, become women. It would appear, then, that every female human being is not necessarily a woman; to be so considered she must share in that mysterious and threatened reality known as femininity.
"Thus humanity is male and man defines woman not in herself but as relative to him; she is not regarded as an autonomous being." Simone de Beauvoir
What is liberation for women? Is it the freedom to flash our tits, or is it the right to reserve our desire for sex?
Ariel Levy argues that women have built their own prison, that with the rise of raunch culture and the feeling that women are empowering themselves through their own sexual liberation, stripping, posing nude, etc means that femininity and sexuality are becoming commodities; sexy is a product, and women are selling it - and themselves - short. To what extent are we perpetuating our own derogative stereotypes?
Germaine Greer is now seen as an opinionated woman who is behind the times, a loudmouth who wants to make a fuss. When did feminism become a dirty word? Are we no longer proud of our femininity, or do we simply think we have 'made it' in terms of equality between the genders? OR are we in fact regressing with a generation whose motto is if you've got it, flaunt it?
Most of us would consider ourselves progressive-thinking, open minded women, right, who don't judge each other but are in fact united against the sex that has supressed us for so many years? But I was struck by the fact a few days before this lecture, when moving back into college, a dear friend of mine was pointing out a girl from another college who she sniffed at and said "she's slept with all the boys in her college." We want to be treated with respect, as the same, but we're not willing to do the same of ourselves.
Is the media to blame - "Kate Moss and Amy Winehouse [are] getting more publicity and kudos from their bad behaviour than they ever did before." After all these years of feminism, girls still get judged by their looks, not to mention their reputation. Is it the (so-called) exploitation of women by lads' mags? Is it "role models" like Paris Hilton, who is supposedly sexy? Or is it because we've become ultimately content with what be an increasingly neo-feminist society that still condemns women who feel comfortable enough to "sleep around," a phrase that in itself carries negative connotations, because we feel like 'feminism,' whatever that may be, has been 'achieved'?
Is feminism what defines us, what we let define us, or how we define ourselves?
More to the point; are you a feminist?