Do you think we’re there yet?

Today at work, a girl and a guy walked up to my counter and the girl ordered first. She ordered an Eat-In, so I put her receipt on the tray, and went on to take the guy’s order.

He also ordered an Eat-In, so to save trays and also because it’s just easier, I asked if I can place his meal in the same tray as the girl’s. He said sure.

The girl looked at him and, with a cheeky smile on her face, remarked, “Wow, are you sure? Do you think we’re there yet, I mean, are we ready to make that big a step for that kind of commitment?”

I realized then that they’re a newly-date couple…and they’re both very humorous and easy-going.

Kinda went aww a bit audibly.

Kinda wish I have that.

Oh post went emo.

Alex.

Woman

I had a writing task in Script For Performance today that asked us to look at a photo of a person, and then to write a description of this person, starting from a close-up physical description, then to pan out to a wide-shot which gives her some form of identity, and finally to put her into a “space”, a context.

I had a photo of a Japanese woman standing in water, while behind her there was only rubble. I don’t want to describe the photo too much because I wrote about it, and I hope you can get the sense of the photo from what I wrote.

Her hair sticks to her face and forehead, plastered in place by sweat. The lips are set, not pressed firmly, but with some determination. A towel is draped around her neck, acting not only as its original purpose, but more as insulation. Her body has morphed into a sphere, all features hidden underneath layers that try to keep her warm from the inside. In fact, apart from the parts of her face – and those determined lips – unobscured by her hair, not another inch of her kin can be seen.

Were her clothes only there to keep her physical body warm? Were her lips only tightened to keep any despair out? She stands ankle deep in water so clear that a distorted version of herself stares back. The ripples of the water smooth out, leaving a stillness that wasn’t just her, but seems to contaminate everything around her. She stares off into a personal thought, until the determination in her lips gives way to a sigh of the overwhelmed.

She looks down. A perfectly blue sky, straight out of the imagination of a child, reflects back at her. In front of it, her distorted twin looks at her, silent and strong.

She looks up. The sky gives way to the mess of a country in ruins. The shadow gives way to short and panicked breaths.

She recognizes the mangled red sedan behind her – she had driven her (still missing) son to school countless times in it. She looks down again, and for a moment all those short, packed breaths gathered at the top of her throat as she wondered how quickly the idyllic sky that lapped around her ankles had destroyed her car.

It was difficult to write this piece, not only for its technicality, but also because when you start emotionally putting yourself in her position, it hurts just that much more.

Alex.

Who wears the pants?

Another Uni blog for Sex and the Screen:

The thing that made me think the most – apart from Butler’s mindblowing suggestion that there is no such thing as an ungendered sex – was that everything is brought back to heterosexuality, or a version thereof.

I have a few friends in a lesbian relationship, and in the three cases that I immediately think of, at least one of them is considered “butch” while the other “girly”. I know this is counter-productive, but they sort of prove the theory that in a relationship, one of them have to be the “masculine” one (or, the one who takes on the role of masculinity), and the other the “feminine” one.

One of the couples got asked at a party “so, who’s the guy in your relationship?” which ALSO solidifies that idea of a relationship as between a “masculine” and a “feminine”.

There’s also that saying “wearing the pants in the relationship”. Again, that implies that in a relationship, there is someone who takes the masucline role, and if those pants happen to be on the non-male (or the “non-masucline”) of a relationship, then it’s considered amusing because it’s an inversion of the “normal”.

However, there seems to be a different way of looking at this for homosexual guys. For some reason, when someone says lesbian couple, the first thought to come to mind is a butch girl with a girly girl, or two butch girls (I am giving up on the “” marks, but you understand where they might go), yet when someone mentions a gay couple (gay guys), the first thing to come to mind (at least for me) are two “feminine” guys – two guys who enact more of a feminine role than a masculine one.

(Argh, drowning in the prescriptive non “” words here.)

I don’t know where I’m going with this, but I just find it weird that the heterosexual relationship pairing only exists for lesbian couples, and not gay couples…

Oh oh and this video confused a lot of my (straight) guy friends a lot. I like this (watch before you keep reading):

Thailand’s Got Talent video

My guy friends found themselves at a loss as to whether to think she’s adorable, or what. I think, when you live in a country with more transexuals (like Thailand), you kind of become more desensitized to the ambiguity of transexuals.

Alex.

That video, seriously, love it.

Alex

Sock puppets, mmm

Another Uni blog post for Sex and the Screen:

I found that last thought in today’s lecture particularly interesting, and because I’m a terrible note-taker, I think I will paraphrase…to my own benefit.

Basically, the point was brought up that of all the ways that “sexuality” could have been regarded, the object-of-desire gender was the focal point.

In other words, imagine an alternate universe where “sexuality” is determined by, say, the source-of-desire gender. Oh I’m going into deep shit here.

So when you meet someone, and it’s a chick, your first assumption is that her “other half” would be a male, and then consider the other possibilities (unless of course the chick is just exuding lesbianism, and hey some girls do that, I’m not being rude. Gotta watch what I write huh). But in this Alternate Universe, when you meet this chick, instead of assuming that, you just see her as a chick, and the thoughts that come with that are “she is attracted to all the other attraction possibilities”.

This completely ignores transexuals or transgendered people but I don’t know how to fit them into this universe. If you can think of a way, by all means!

So in AU, there is no “normal” attraction pairing for a particular person, but rather a variety of attraction possibilities. Since there isn’t the concept of a normal attraction pairing, you can’t have abnormalities – along with the possibilities are female, male, horses, sock puppets, whatever. Wouldn’t that competely eradicate the bullying and the segregation, even, of different preferences?

It probably would completely change the face of songwriting. Imagine if Taylor Swift had to write songs about a Prince/Princess/Phar-Lap/Miss Piggy. The farm-yard imagery would take on a completely different meaning each verse.

Alex.

I’m going to be straddling the line between cheeky and rude many times, I think.

Alex

Earning Skillz

Whenever I start a new thing, and I realize I suck at it, I try to tell myself that I’ll get better at it soon, I just have to keep at it now and my muscles will get better at it.

For example, when I first started work, I sucked at the till, but today, apart from some wrong change given, some refunds and some bad orders on my behalf, I managed to hold down my till for 4 hours during lunch rush, so I figure I’m doing pretty well for my first proper shift.

What I’m worried about is running, or gathering the order, putting it together and giving it to the customer. I tried doing that on Friday night and oh it’s shameful to admit how many minutes some of my orders were running on, and how bad I did all of them. I really want to get more experience doing the running during off-peak times, so I can get better, but at the moment I’m put on the till.

When I first started learning how to ride the bike, it took me ages to get it, but once I did I became pretty good (except for when I fell off my bike in Yr 9, but hey, so not my point), and when I first started a lot of video games, I was horrible but then it’s like a light finally came on and I was playing like any other regular.

That’s why I just want to get some training in coffee making or anything else, because I know that I learn and pick up skills quick, but no one wants to hire someone with no experience. Can’t they see that it won’t take me long to become a favorite?

Ok now I’m just tooting my own horn.

Depending on how much there is to say about work, I may not actually create a separate category and just put it under stuff-that-happened.

Alex.

P.S., I was going to write about the Japanese earthquake too but my mentality for that is roughly the same as for the Christchurch one. The sheer monstrosity of the disaster is actually making me rethink the validity of 2012.

No cheese no onion no pickles with mushrooms and mayonnaise…

Basically, I had my first day of training today at Maccas, and all that I’ve done so far was cook a basket of fries, failed at putting fries into the box (how is something so simple so hard), swept up some tables outside, and then took some orders after learning Macca’s surprisingly extensive menu.

I’ve yet to learn all the names of the people working there or, for that matter, the name of my manager. I really need to get on top of that.

To test me, my trainer Keith mock ordered a Large Big Mac meal but with the conditions of my title. Figuring out how to do all that under 25 seconds is, again, surprisingly hard. I expect to get faster soon. Counter stuff seems straight forward enough, you just have to get used to where the items are on the screen. It’s running around for the food which seems like a tough job, especially making the coffee/tea, and the soft serve, and the McFlurry stuff.

Next training shift on Thursday. Wish me luck!

Alex.

P.S. Might put up a new category soon.

Yet another Uni blog assignment…

For one of my subjects, Sex and the Screen, I have yet another blogging assignment (I actually have 2 blog assignment subjects this semester so this should be interesting.

This is my first post for Sex and the Screen.

A quick introduction – usually I write an entire post for that but honestly I’m not that interesting – my name is Alex, and I’m a 2nd year Media & Comm. student. If you want to know anything else about me, feel free to abuse the comment box. Makes me look good hey.

This is just a quick note, really, nothing deep. Today in the lecture when we were warned not to be homophobic or sexist or any other -ist, I kind of had a moment where I saw things from the other side of the stick. While it would please me to no end if any kind of discrimination would just disappear off the face of the earth, it’s plain naive to think that they don’t exist if we simply repress it. The thing is, people have gotten so sensitive over any kind of negative intention behind words spoken that you can basically look at anything as insulting. To be slightly homophobic is now considered ‘wrong’, and there is a huge stigma stuck to it.

To have any kind of opinion isn’t ‘wrong’, but it can be ‘close-minded’. The aim should be to open those minds, not force some version of ‘correct’ onto them. Doing that would almost be identical to repressing homosexuality, for example, because homosexuality is considered ‘wrong’.

My point is, if someone posts a homophobic post, or a racist post, it’s too extreme and, to some extent, plain counter-productive, to fail them on the subject. Instead of punishing them for having an opinion, and further cementing their negative feelings towards a social group, engage them in discussion and try to have them see things from the other point of view.

While it saddens me, whenever I come across a friend who expresses homophobic tendencies, I don’t just tell them that they’re backwards, I try to ask why they feel that way.

The other part of this post is really just…people take things too seriously! A tiny little joke gets blown up to epic proportions of inappropriateness, and it just makes what would be a light-hearted conversation annoyingly technical.

Alex.

P.S., hopefully GIFs work. I won’t do it too much but I do love my GIFs.

Alex

Was This Over Before It Ever Began?

[Feel Good Drag – Anberlin]

One last song title post, even though Autumn has hit. So, on March 1st, I went to see my first ever gig – Anberlin, supported by Bayside and The Starting Line.

I warn you now, very long post.

After my classes ended at quarter to five, I went to the tram stop to meet up with Julia, who had my ticket. At the same time, I was due to meet up with a friend of a friend’s, who up to that day I hadn’t met before. His name is Louis.

So we grabbed a quick bite before we headed to Bel’s apartment where Julia and I dropped off our stuff. We went back up to Billboard, where Susan had started lining up already. She had with her a whole bunch of food that she probably thought she could finish but then realized she had a limit to her appetite, so she tried to offload the food onto us.

Pearl arrived at around 7, just in time to get to know the people we were lining up with (friends of Julia’s). We went into Billboard as one of the first ones, got our stuff cloaked (and, I’ll say now with hindsight, I should not have kept my Metcard in my jeans pocket. Also, Metcards are damn durable.)

We’d gotten that amazing spot at the barriers, right near the center. At this point, standing around while more and more people crowded in behind us, Louis decided to tell me that 1) the waiting part takes ages (which it did, nearly 40 minutes), and 2) there is a chance I’d die (Julia also said she hoped I wouldn’t die). Now, seeing as this was my first gig ever, I had to take their warnings with a certain note of fear. Still, the atmosphere of the waiting crowd pretty much soon made me put aside those words.

At this point, two people began chatting to Louis, who was standing behind me. I didn’t catch the guy’s name, but the girl’s nickname was Ish, and they were both well lubricated with beer. There were general high-fives of excitement, and then the guy decided to pat my head, saying he liked my hair.

Bayside kicked the show off, and even though I didn’t really know any of their songs, their energy, and a guy standing two people behind me who knew every word, got me into the mood of the concert. There were some rocking of bodies, but in general the amount of violence was tolerable. Oh except for Pearl, who was being battered by Ish.

After they finished, the buzzing grew a bit louder, not only because I think more people liked TSL, but it was also one band closer to Anberlin.

At this point, Ish had managed to move her way to being right behind me, and so when TSL started, it became my turn to be battered by her. I supposed it was better to be battered by a drunk girl than to be beaten by an enthusiastic drunk guy. Anyway, TSL started playing Island, and Ish had been screaming for them to play it for two songs already, so you can imagine her enthusiasm and volume when they did start playing it. There were many amused glanced that Pearl and I shared at her excitement, but I rather enjoyed it (ignoring the bruises), because she made the whole event even more exciting, even when there wasn’t a song playing.

When The Best Of Me (admittedly, the only TSL song I knew that they played) began, so began my scream-along for the night.

The one thing I noticed about moshing (and, pressed against the barrier –  actually, pressed against Julia but that’s a later story – I could only assume that what I experienced was moshing) was that everyone around you, stranger or not, suddenly share the same emotional flow. Everyone screamed the same line, everyone threw their arms up in the same beat, and, to some extent, everyone jumped in unison.

After TSL went offstage, the amount of time as Anberlin was being set up no longer became the placid waiting as it was for TSL – everyone began pushing forwards for the best view of the band they’d all come for. It was through some elbowing that I managed to keep my position behind Julia and next to Pearl.

Remember what I said about there being a later story? Well, having not experienced it before, it soon became clear to me that all rules about personal space and touching get trampled, as complete strangers pressed up against my back, and because of my limited upper body strength, I was subsequently pushed so far into Julia that we REALLY tested the boundaries of our friendship.

This is a photo of the setlist that Anberlin played yesterday (“King” was “We Owe It To Ourselves”). Standing right next to the speakers, it was a comment on the enthusiasm of the crowd that our collective screaming matched Stephen’s amplified vocals. It was so loud and so full of energy that he was momentarily taken aback at the microphone.

Bouncers threw water into the crowd, wetting the already sweat-soaked faces. Stephen passed by us many times, as did Deon. When the first few bars of Dismantle.Repair. began playing, I put aside the breathlessness I was feeling, and I fought off the tingling dizziness, and completely lost myself in the beat. It’s strange thinking back now of my conduct, but in that moment, with at least six other bodies occupying my personal bubble, and Julia’s hair in my mouth (yeah…), my crazed arm flailing and very-likely offkey screaming to lyrics that barely need any thinking to recall seemed like just the right thing to do. The crush of bodies turned from an unrelenting enemy into the friend that kept me upright.

At the end, they came back on for two more songs, Readyfuels and Never Take Friendship Personal. In a flash, the show was over. We retrieved our jackets, and sculled down blissfully cold water. I was tingling all over, half from exhaustion, half from the lack of oxygen, and half (my maths have taken a hit lately) from the overspill of excitement. I also noticed that my right side was completely soaked (as was my back, despite wearing two layers), and since I didn’t feel that sweaty, I realized that the wetness was due to the fat guy who’d fought his way to my right towards the end.

Louis and Pearl had to leave to take the train home – can’t express the gratitude I have for Bel for letting me crash at her place, because I was able to stay behind with Julia. We waited around for a while, and saw the band come out at the back. Through Julia’s persistence, we managed to get photos with three members of the band:

This is the one photo of the both of us with Deon, who, by that time, had become my favorite.

Deon actually stood with us and had a bit of a chat, and for a moment he managed to make me forget that he’s the guy who stood onstage in front of us, playing amazing bass. Stephen and Joey had gotten into the van already, so Julia only managed to get a quick signature.

This is sort of where the concert part of the blog post ends, the rest is just for my remembering pleasure.

After we left Billboard and made our way back to Swanston, we realized that we’d just missed all the trams for the night that go to Bel’s apartment. Ignoring the pain in my feet (Julia is a tank, she wasn’t in pain at all), we started on our leisurely stroll to Bel’s apartment (except at Julia’s walking speed which, in case you don’t know her, would make her future children speed walking champions). I tried to keep warm by singing the whole time, and Julia’s complete nonchalance to my musical attempts meant that I had to be the backup vocals too.

We got back to the apartment and, it being half past 1 in the morning, we cat-footed our way around the dark apartment, opting to shower the next day as to not wake Bel’s family. Julia took the mattress on the floor and I took the couch, which was leather. Here, I must recount the moment when, after I’d fallen asleep, the sweat on the back of my hand stuck to the leather and when I changed position, the ripping of my hand off the couch was possibly one of the more painful experiences in my life. How can something so little hurt so much? (That…is what she said.)

Bel left for uni early, so I was half awake at around the time the sun rose. Julia woke once or twice, each time rolling over to sleep more, but finally at around 8:30 we both gave up trying to continue sleeping and simply started the sluggish morning rituals.

After waiting a while for her phone to charge, and talking in semi-whispers in fear of waking Bel’s sister who might not have even been in, we went to DeGraves for brunch (oh, by the way, my sweat soaked Metcard – yes, ew – works, if not after a hesitant click from the turnstile). Dropping her off at Flinders Station so she could go to Uni, I made my way back to my own Uni, bumping into a newly made friend on the tram.

The rest of the day was spent in a sort of sore, tired stupor, and finishing class at 6:15 did not help.

So here’s the predictable I LOVE MUSIC CONCERTS conclusion. I’m not quite sure if I want my next time to have two drunks right next to me, and I have yet to experience a concert where I wasn’t fighting for breath every three seconds, but the thrill of having a stranger next to you hold you up while you’re both leaping to the music is something I want to experience again.

Also, massive thanks to Julia who stuck with me the whole time, Pearl for exchanging amused looks with me the whole time, and Louis who tried his utmost to shield me from the worst of the moshing.

Alex.