| Post-inspired "Rant of the Day" |
[31 May 2004|04:54pm] |
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Mama Cass - California Earthquake |
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I just received a chain letter in the mail.
And may I offer this hearty message to whoever starts these things: Die. Now.
I know chain letters irritate me more than they should, but honestly? I'm sick of'em. Yes, sick. To the back teeth, even. Until recently, they would clog my inbox with nauseatingly cutesy subject headings.
Fwd: *+-,.,-+* Make a wish now! *+-,.,-+*
Fwd: Red Roses are Forever
Fwd: Freaky But True (This Really Works!!) ^-~
Fwd: The story of Laura Tainish: Dreams can come true!
It was always the same couple of friends sending these to me, and I'm sure one of them is responsible for the letter now sitting in my garbage bin. I politely told them to knock it off a while back, so I'm not impressed by the unexpected snail mail.
The thing is, chain letters are meaningless. And no matter how many poor hopeless souls are said to have been saved by them, they remain meaningless. Hell, if all it took to produce instant wealth was sending off twenty photocopies, we'd all be laughing. World poverty would disappear overnight. Just sending everybody in Uganda a copy of Red Roses are Forever could have more of a positive influence than every aid program combined.
I despise chain letters because they play on vulnerability. Yes, they play on weakness too, but that's something else. If someone rolling in cash loses ten dollars on postage in an attempt to rake in more money, well, that's the price of greed. (Greed for sale! Ten dollars apiece!) But there are people who are struggling and send these letters on thinking their lives will change. They're irrational but they're also desperate. I'm going to move into black-and-white territory here and say that I think it's wrong to create false hope just so that one day in the future, you might receive your own chain letter back and feel like a Big Person. Piss on that.
Also? It's really annoying to get excited about mail and then find out that it's Just Another Chain Letter. Bah!
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| Do you get it? Eh? Eh? |
[29 May 2004|05:05pm] |
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So, a woman walks up to a cashier, and starts unpacking her stuff. The cashier says, "Hi", they exchange pleasantries, nothing unusual here.
Like a lot of customers now, the woman has her own bags and half the stuff is already in them. The cashier unpacks the bags, scans and re-packs them. 'A little annoying', she thinks, 'but no big deal.'
Halfway through, she comes to a bag with about twenty different packs of batteries. Now, each battery has a security tag and so each must be run across both the de-sensitiser and the scanner before re-packing.
While the cashier gets on with her work, the woman tells her toddler that he will, in fact, not be getting the electronic Finding Nemo toy he has been toting. A tantrum immediately ensues.
Now, wait for it.
The minute the cashier has finished packing the batteries, the woman says, "Oh, I wanted to put those through separately!" Remember that the batteries were mixed in with everything else. The cashier has to call her supervisor to void the batteries from the sale, and then - to the strains of "Iwantmytoy! Iwantmytoy!" - finish the first transaction, unpack the batteries for the second time, re-scan them all, and re-pack them all.
~ ~ ~
Today I handed in my notice to Franklins. I have been a cashier there for two and a half years.
It was a good feeling.
~ ~ ~
Yesterday morning, I spent the time before work emailing off a job application for an entry-level journalist position. The application had taken much of the previous night to put together, but all in all, I was pleased with it.
At midnight, I received an email from an American newspaper, informing me that I had mistakenly sent my application to them instead. They complimented me on my resume, but kindly suggested I redirect it to the intended address. Apparently, I am not the first to make this mistake.
I sent the application off again straight away. We'll see. Frankly, the fact that I can't read an email address correctly undermines much of what I said anyway. :)
~ ~ ~
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[04 May 2004|01:47pm] |
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JJ Goldman - Peur de rien blues |
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Well. It would appear that my rush of updating in March was rather short-lived, for I managed to bypass April altogether.
And now it's May. In just under a week I'll be 22. This is fortuitous because I've had it in my mind - since a friend's 22nd birthday in December, I suppose - that I'm already 22. This is the age I have been telling people when they ask. Then I say, "Oh, no! Hang on. I'm 21." Then they edge away. Actually being the age I tell people will make things a great deal less complicated and embarrassing.
Speaking of birthdays, might I offer many happy returns to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) ingole for tomorrow! May all your camels be bountiful. :)
Tomorrow is also the day that I will graduate from UTS. As far as I can tell, this event brings the following consequences.
· I can no longer claim the state of my room is acceptable because "I'm a student!".
· I can no longer check/write "Student" as my current status on forms, etc.
· No more concession on public transport, at the movies, etc.
· No more leaving halfway through tutorials to get Chinese food from the food court underneath UTS. It is also unlikely that I will ever eat vegetable noodle soup there again.
One of my co-workers has just discovered that I am graduating from film production. Fancying himself as an actor, he now asks at every opportunity about what I'm working on, and when I'll be able to put him in a film so that he can become Rich and Famous. Or something.
And now, to finish:
This Week's Top 5 Annoying Customer Types
1. Those who watch me pack something in a particular way, and then say, "Oh, I've brought my own bags!/ Oh, I want that in a separate bag!/ Oh, I'll have all those together in the one bag!"
2. Those who snatch half-packed bags from the racks before I am finished with them. Included here are parents who allow their children to snatch the bags when only one item has thus far been packed.
3. Those who ask for petrol discount coupons (à la Woolworths and Coles), and get pissy when I inform them that Franklins don't have fuel discounts offers.
4. Parents who - whilst in my place of work - let their children behave in ways they'd never allow in an office. Yeah, Little Timmy, keep bashing my screen with your shoe.
5. Those who, before I have even begun to scan anything, say in a sharply reproving voice, "Can you pack the cold things separately?" Now, I understand this request. But I don't need to be told, frankly. Nor do 90% of cashiers. And I especially don't need to be told in that tone. Milk with milk, poison with poison. I got it.
Heh. That's me done. Saying here the things I can't say to customers' faces? Spineless, but gooooood! :)
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| Go Hell, Go Pell! |
[21 Mar 2004|07:16pm] |
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 Pell-datory |
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This man is George Pell. He has been archbishop of the Sydney Catholic diocese for the past three years. Some time late last year, the Pope made him a cardinal. This means the dude might be the next Pope or, at the very least, he gets a serious say in who is.
George Pell is one of those Pick'n'Mix religious types. Y'know, the ones that remember certain lines from Leviticus, and yet completely forget others. Judging from his photo here, I'd say the man enjoys a regular trim about the temple, but he's not too concerned about that. Because he's on a mission to stop "teh dirty bad gays".
He's known for refusing Eucharist to gay members of the congregation, and ranting in his sermons that homosexuality poses a greater danger than addictive drugs. Fairly recently, his cousin, a lesbian and former nun, published a letter in the Sydney Morning Herald, asking for some rationality on his part. She addressed him publicly, it seems, because her private correspondence had been much easier to ignore.
To his credit, George Pell does at least seem to know the difference between gays and pedophiles. He's quite firm about the "seriously depraved" gays. We're going to hell, no question there, my friends. But he feels that, when it comes to, say, child abuse within the Church, we ought to remember that worse things happen, boys and girls. Yes, they do. Worse things, liek, OMG, gays and abortions!!!111! So let's not worry about the children who were raped by priests, okay?
A few years back, before George Pell winged his way up from Melbourne, women were given the green light to become acolytes in the Sydney diocese (the acolyte being the person that helps the priest through the Mass). Our own parish has two very capable female acolytes, in addition to the ten or so male acolytes. Okay, not exactly an even scale, but it's a start.
Or it was. In about two and a half weeks time, on Holy Thursday, George Pell is going to announce that women are no longer to serve as acolytes in the Sydney Catholic diocese. Given his influence, this is probably going to spread throughout Australia. No official statements have been made yet - I heard it this evening from one of the acolytes in question - but if this were fanfic, George Pell would be very IC right about now.
Given the non-officialness of it all, I don't know what kind of action I can take yet. My gut reaction - Burn the house down, laddy. Burn'em all! - likely isn't wise. There are arson laws ... and ... stuff.
The sad truth is, it probably doesn't matter how many people protest this. As with so many things, after a while you just get tired of hitting your head against brick walls and seeing no change.
People suck with a scary regularity, and thank God for the ones that don't. You people make the world happy and very, very shiny.
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| But I thought the Earth was flat! |
[17 Mar 2004|06:25pm] |
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Not "Somewhere, Out There." And that's all that matters. |
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The longer I work in customer service, the more a lot of things make sense to me. Like why postal clerks sometimes run amok with flamethrowers in public places.
As I have now finished my study at the poster-child for Soviet architecture, UTS (huh, you think the letters stand for "University of Technology", maaaaan? Do ya? Huh? Huh? 'Cause that's what they want you to think!), I am now working more or less full-time at the poster-child for misery, Franklins.
That is to say, I was until somebody wised to the fact that a casual worker in the highest age bracket was receiving the same number of shifts as a full-time worker. And was receiving the casual loading fee for those hours. Last week, forty hours. This week, a pitiful twenty-one.
But! The very, very shiny side of the coin is that I don't have to get up early tomorrow morning. Nor do I have smile patiently through encounters like the following:
( No facts or dialogue in the following situation have been embellished in any way. )
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[04 Mar 2004|04:52pm] |
Franklins used to tune in to Eeeeaaaasy Mix 106.5.
When I worked the Monday night closing shift, we heard "Monday Night Love Song Dedications". An original title for a radio slot if ever I heard one. It was hosted by a man who sounded rather like he was trying to hypnotise his audience. And indeed, if I had been listening to what he said as opposed to analysing his quality of voice, I just might have run amok in Pet Food and Accessories.
As it was, I didn't. Since only the very late-working and the very odd venture into Franklins after 7pm on a Monday night, I would straighten the impulse-buy stands and listen to the dedications.
"And we have Nicoooole on the line. Hi, Nicoooole."
"Hi!" (nervous teenage giggling)
"Tell us about yoooour dedication tonight."
"Um, well. This song is for my boyfriend. Um, 'cause ... yeah, we sorta broke up? But, um, yeah, I just wanna tell him thaaaat ... (more nervous giggling) yeah, that I still care about him and that ... I hope he calls me soon! (Beat.) Hi, James."
"Okay. Hope yoooou're listening, Jaaaymes. What song do you want us to play, Nicoooole?"
"Um, The Power of Love? By Celine Dion?"
The Power of Love was by far and away the most requested song on the show. It accompanied me through serving customers, data entry, reading magazines, stacking shelves, and helping a customer decide whether bright red or ash blonde would look more atrocious over her natural black. While it's not a song that I find particularly inspiring, every time The Power of Love ended you knew you had passed another ten minutes. Shortly, there would be HypnoMan, Other Songs, Commercials, News - there would be contact with the Outside World, dammit!
Franklins doesn't listen to Mix 106.5 anymore. For several months now, we have instead had the pleasure of ( Franklins Radio )
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| Pointless update |
[17 Feb 2004|03:16pm] |
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Circuit-graunching |
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· I fear for the wellbeing of my computer. Every action, every minute one-eighth-of-a-byte bit process prompts a harsh, metallic scraping sound from within. It is a noise my Soundtrack tutor would likely have described as "circuit-graunching". This disturbs me.
· I am now shamelessly addicted to America's Next Top Model. Am backing the lil' underdog, Shandi - partly because I like her and partly by default. The only other girl I feel inclined to cheer for reminds me, uncannily and without any real reason, of a girl that I generally disliked in primary school. Now, because I have grown up and left such pettiness behind, I can't see her on screen without some misgivings.
· Although I informed my employers as to when I would be available for shifts, my name remains absent from the work roster this week. They have, however - very generously - consented to give me one (1) shift a week on Saturday. Twelve days after I "returned" to work. In order to right the karmic cycle, I have recommenced pirating goods on eBay. Which is completely, and utterly, a victimless crime.
And that is the news to this minute. We now return to ticking off the items on our daily "to do" list.
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| The horror. The horror. |
[25 Jan 2004|11:43am] |
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Thunder |
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As a survivor of the Catholic education system (K-12 inclusive, people), I suppose the horrors of liturgical celebration should long have passed. Yet today brought a new contender for that shiny, gleaming title:
( Worst. Mass. Ever. )
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[02 Jan 2004|02:31pm] |
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 creative and needing to stop |
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Cicardas outside |
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Aaaand a Faith'n'Buffy banner - which will hopefully be enough to satisfy, and cease, my recent Faith!Art kick. ;)
Would be better if I had a nifty fic to go along with it ... uhh, but I don't.
Words by T.S. Eliot
In other news, I passed my driving test today at the ripe old age of 21. Second time lucky, yes indeed.
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[28 Dec 2003|03:33pm] |
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 amused yet enthralled |
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Buffy musical - singing to self |
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And if I had waited just three more days, December would have passed this journal by. However, 'tis not to be!
My sister recently acquired a book called Heck's Pictorial Archive of Nature and Science. According to the cover, it was edited by J.G. Heck, and has over 5,500 illustrations. Interesting, no?
Actually, this is the sort of book that makes me drool in unadulterated Image!Lust. Because it's a republication (thank you, Back of Book) of the plates featured in the Iconographic Encyclopaedia of Science, Literature and Art of 1851. Steel engravings! Copyright-free steel engravings! And with all the downright creepy and clinical charm of 19th century Germany.
There are pages and pages of insects, each rendered in painstaking detail and with the ever-present Fig.xx beside them. There are cross-sections of volcanoes, planets, hell, of horses! Plates of whaling expeditions with the title, Technology, Plate 35. Hate to tell you dudes, but from where I'm sitting? If the size of your boat is accurately scaled to the size of that whale, you ain't gonna win this one!
Still, I think my favourite is this one. I would like to assure any non-Australian readers of this journal that this is indeed how life proceeds on our fair shores. Including the kangeroo in the tree. And that ... whatever it is, centre left. On its hindlegs. All absolutely true.
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[16 Nov 2003|02:07pm] |
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Beryl's tedious, tedious dialogue |
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So. After editing last night, there are some phrases that I never ever wish to hear again.
1. "Oh, I was born in Ootacumand."
Why did you put the Oh at the start of that sentence, Beryl? Why?
2. "My father was a leader in the /military boys band, /and it was the /best cadet school."
That sentence is almost entirely constructed - hence the strokes. Because Beryl seemed unable to make such a clear cut statement by herself. We cut nearly a full minute - from a ten minute documentary - of "uhmm"s, "uhh"s, and Beryl's personal favourite, "errahh"s.
3. "And he was a very, very, very proud man. He loved to dress up."
Yes he did, Beryl. Yes, he did.
Beryl, why did you pause and trail off so much? Why did you use such marked intonation that the construction of coherent sentences became a daunting task. We're trying our best for you, dammit! And yet you run all your words together - to the point that your pronunciation of "RSL" sounds much closer to "asshole" - and insert the phrase, "And thing(s)" without a care in the world. How could you say the following sentence?
"And so he had a proper, military send offandthing, and he's buried in Rookwood cemetary."
It just doesn't make any sense! Neither the above phrase, nor your decision to include "andthing" in it! And while we're on the subject, why oh why did you give us a thick photo album, packed with thirty year-old pictures of yourself and a mysterious gentleman friend, and say that no picture of the man may be featured at any point in the documentary.
And yet I wonder...
At some time past three this morning, a freakish and ghostly frame of Beryl - looking particularly smug - appeared on the timeline without apparent cause. And in the three seconds before I selected it, and muttered, "Die, Beryl, die!", a thought struck me. As it apparently struck my co-editor, who said, in a shaky and defeated voice:
"Perhaps Beryl is getting her own back at us for called her ManBeryl."
Today is Sunday. Somewhere in the greater local area, Beryl is probably spending time with her grandkids or putting her feet up. But the spectre of ManBeryl lives on in that computer. She is the spirit of Documentary Subjects Scorned, and she will have my sanity as penance.
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[20 Oct 2003|09:10am] |
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My Inner!Worker screaming desperately and pointlessly |
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Well. It's been a fair while since I've updated this thing, and it strikes me I should post something here.
So I will :)
Sketch done by my talented older sister. If we swapped ages, a lot of things would make more sense - my sisterly pride, overprotectiveness and height, for starters.
There are two weeks left before the roughish cut of my film must be handed in, and I have not started editing yet. No one can understand why I have also not started panicking yet.
A recent conversation with a friend.
Kathy: I can't believe you aren't worried yet.
Jo shrugs, and continues fiddling with AfterEffects.
Kathy: If I ever see you panic, I'll know things are really bad.
The moral of this tale is, "Never let Kathy see you panic." Because then things will never be Really Bad. *grin*
So, there's my two cents for a little while. And now to other things. I hate going into uni when I have no class. 'Gainst nature, 'tis!
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[01 Oct 2003|02:45pm] |
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So...
In the midst of preparing my second shoot tomorrow, I rang my production support at university for a film workorder. One of the wonderful things about doing a film as part of coursework is UTS' discount film deal with Kodak.
However, Jo was rather stupid. Jo did not check what type of stock she needed before ringing production support. And so, when the inevitable question of,
"What type of stock are you getting?"
came up, Jo did not know what to say. And so, she said this:
"Oh... um.. I'm not sure-- Eleanor's shooting it for me, and I don't really know that much about film--"
At which point, there was a short silence down the phone, and then the conversation moved on, with production support saying that was okay, and he would just leave that part of the form for me to fill out. Very kindly and nicely, I might add, because he is that kind of guy.
So, any guesses as to what he was thinking in that short silence? My own favourite would have to be,
"This girl has been studying film for three years, has done several cinematography subjects, and she knows nothing about film?? What the hell has she been doing?"
So there you have it. And now you know. Because I feel the need to share my idiocy with the world *nods*
Now to go buy the stock. It's raining. Bah.
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| For no particular reason... |
[28 Sep 2003|03:34pm] |
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 discontent |
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Sol Bianca - Makenaide, just turning off |
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...Here are some random things.
· I have just seen two different types of spider in my bedroom. This, as a relatively hysterical arachnophobe, disturbs me. The first one - a sort of tan-y golden colour house spider sort - escaped while I was finding a cup to trap it in. The second one - a bloody white-tailed spider! - I was luckily able to knock out the open window. Now I can't help wondering how many others are lurking.
· It is incredibly smoky here in Sydney, as there are bushfires burning across the state. Everything I can see from my window has a bluish tinge to it. If things are this bad now, I'm dreading January - as are, I would imagine, those with houses in actual danger.
· I finally caught up with the rest of the world, and watched Heavenly Creatures last night. It was good, no question, but pretty bloody disturbing. Not made any better by Big Sister commenting that one girl looked rather like the younger version of a woman I work with. And even though I said I wouldn't, I did end up fast-forwarding past a couple of bits. Because I am a pathetic, frightened girly-girl.
· I was looking forward to vacuuming my room (yes, I am aware of the high Sad Factor in that statement) today. However, since the First Spider is still at large, I can't bring myself to do it in case I accidentally vacuum him up. I am not sure what to do about this right now - and, truth be known, this is also partly why I am filling my LJ with useless information.
· I had arranged to get together with some "Long Time, No See" friends this week. One has just messaged to say she cannot come after all, and another has asked to bring her new girlfriend. [insert Seinfeld-esque lipcurl]. It's not that I object to the idea - why should I? - but to be blunt, she is, and always has been, very weird about her girlfriends. The idea of spending an evening with the pair does not thrill me.
· The Unexplained and Annoying Cough™ I have had for nearly a month is not going away, despite my being equipped with a new puffer (which I strongly suspect was designed for children - 'tis shaped like a fish). The smoke from the bushfires is not helping, and things are now at the stage where I can't cough without wanting to retch. Too much information, I know.
So... on that note, I think I will go eat some lunch.
Edit: I have deleted the Between Friends update from my LJ, as Fanfiction.net seems to be working again. Unless anyone particularly wants me to post updates here, I'll be leaving them at FF.net as usual :)
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[26 Sep 2003|09:32pm] |
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RAC - Slavery and Suffering |
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If LJ eats this again, I shall scream. Well... not really, but the sentiment is there.
So, once again - the next chapter of Between Friends at Malory Towers. I did post this an hour or so ago, but since - upon reading it properly *slaps self* - I have discovered several errors, I have also replaced the chapter on FF.net.
Clicking on the below link should lead to the latest version :) Apologies for the lateness and the non-Blytoness of it. I shall try to do better with these two next time.
For Alenka - hope it was worth the wait :)
Chapter Four
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| Half-time in Producing Class... |
[17 Sep 2003|07:59pm] |
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aggravated |
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Brain short-circuiting |
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...And all's not well.
Argh! My brain is honestly going to implode any moment. Goodbye world, it was relatively nice while it lasted.
To the short, bald, objectionable man seated right in front of me: Stop. Please please just stop! Stop asking pointless and involved questions to which you already know the answer, simply to make yourself seem more savvy than the rest of us! Stop speaking in the calm, patronising voice of an understanding fundamentalist religious nut! Stop picking your hair out whilst listening to the tutor talk - you haven't much left anyway. Just stop!
That is all :) And now, back to class
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[12 Sep 2003|11:44pm] |
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Today we concluded our shoot with a visit to Featherdale Wildlife Park and Taronga Zoo.
The people at both venues were extremely helpful and nice - especially given that neither will be receiving the traditional form of reimbursement for such services. And our small production is most grateful to them.
I could go on at length about the myriad of school children we encountered everywhere. The fact that our only redhead blew a bulb before we could shoot anything. The endless walk to the Bird Show at the Zoo. The bra-strap bruise cut into my shoulder as I carried the tripod to said Bird Show. The fact that each drinks stand closed just before we reached it, all along the walk back to the car.
Yes, all those things happened - and more. The list goes on. But we got to film two falcons today. Making for what is probably the coolest and most difficult footage we've ever shot.
( More falcon antics. )
So, a tiring but ultimately satisfying day. 'Tis a long time since I have visited the zoo. I hope it will be a long time before I visit it again.
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