Alcohol-free Birthday Parties

In light of the three consecutive birthday parties which I will be attending starting from six pm today, which currently allows me less than one hour to prepare my physical image, including one disastrous and boring party likely to consist of food poisoning, one Onesie party wherein I will be dressed in a zebra onesie likely to consist of Korean food poisoning, and one surprise party likely to consist of starvation, and because of the fact that these three parties, all of which are alcohol-free and thus seemingly repugnant, I will base today’s essay on exactly this: my tortuous weekend that will be lathered in Korean-based foods and screaming children and other foods which I will dare not approach and an ultimately crazy endeavour which most people my age do not bother to consider seeing as alcohol is evident in most parts of our lives and we would much rather take part in those parts of our lives than the unattractive latter, however the reason as to why I choose to take part in the unattractive latter only exists because I currently have no other choice, mainly because my life has, since my Education degree, spiraled down a path which is dominated by children, and seeing as though I have a Working With Children Check, that is totally, according to the Australian law, acceptable.

This essay, also, posing a challenge to myself, will only be written in this manner: one sentence as a paragraph – this will allow the entirety of this essay to be quite interesting; in fact, I do not think anyone has, prior to this moment in time, attempted to write an essay as such, let alone any entertaining essays for entertaining purposes during a university holiday break period, for an essay in this context and form will most likely cause complications to both the writer and the reader – the writer in that they must squeeze their brainpower into the extraction points at the end of their hands, which are the fingers, and lure the brainpower extracts all over the keyboard in a sense-making manner to produce an essay – and the reader, in that they voluntarily, of course, choose to read the essay provided and strain their own brains at the fact that the writer could write such an essay and the fact that their minds could comprehend such lengthy and slightly complex sentences which exist for aimless reasons and aimless reasons alone – with that said, though, I will plough through this essay effortlessly because in actuality, my mind speaks, internally, in a manner like this: I write clumps of pieces in my very mind before it actually reaches a piece of paper or some sort of technological platform, so that it reaches either ones of those destinations with some ease, and that, my friends and fellow readers, is how my mind is capable of absorbing all twenty-six letters of the English alphabet, and releases them in an orderly, or slightly orderly fashion, to create something witty and remarkable and interesting, and hopefully, entertaining.

Now, for the entertaining essay – I cannot believe that I have brought myself to twenty-two years of mostly clean events which have thus made me the geeky estranged yet approachable nerdy girl I am today; with a genuine and everlasting love for all platforms of technology, especially the video-game sort, and an open-mind to all things which do not mostly circulate around a stereotypical girl’s life, and the ability to laugh horrid things off and remain positive in varied situations which make this a problematic and challenging thing, I believe it  makes it easier for different types of people branching from different age groups, to get along with me, which is mainly why I have chosen a future career like teaching or lecturing, both of which spiral in the educative sphere of the world and its works – most scoff at my choice when I reveal it to them, and imply that I probably do not have what it takes to hold down a class of, on average, twenty-five or more students, pre, during and post pubescent, but I scoff back because when I recall my endeavours, be it as simple as attending the movies, with my cousins, who are at varied age levels, I do it all quite well – how, though, this proves anything, seeing as though my amount of cousins in Australia is much lesser than the amount in Lebanon, is that when I actually had teaching placement last at three different schools with three different grades, albeit in only primary school which is a level arguably more difficult to control, I proved myself right – and my cousins, most of which are in secondary school at the moment, all get along with me exceptionally well, so from that evidence I can predict that my secondary school teaching experience will also be controllable and vibrant at the same time – with that all said, though, I think I will find the three consecutive birthday parties this weekend slightly more enjoyable – for the most I am around children and teenagers, the more I learn about subtle ways to control them – I mean, I was one once, and a rebellious one in my mind because my displayed personality was that of a shy and obedient one, so I know more than a thing or two about behavioural control in male and female teenagers.

In the duration of these parties I will be in an observing state of mind, and an acting state of mind, partaking in different activities with children, some far younger than me, whilst surrounding myself with brief talks with parents who unfortunately do not match my level of intellect or would even bother because most of them simply have no level of intellect due to their higher interest in other things like watching Arabic news or cooking or cleaning their house or drinking coffee whilst gossiping about their neighbours pet goat which tried to jump the fence and consume their much-loved gardening patch which has vegetables such as cucumbers and parsley and fruits like peaches and nectarines and all other lovely home-grown fruits and vegetables – these types of people do not interest me as much as I interest them, which is mainly why I avoid most types of human contact with most types of people who would much rather conform to the boring ways of society than stand out and be vibrant and truly happy, but that in itself is another story and possibly another entertaining essay – what I am trying to say in this essay, though, is I will enjoy myself in every single way, be it that there is no alcohol or Ouija boards, although there might be scary movies involved, and I will indulge myself in the indefinable thing that is life and the debatable thing that is a social life.

I would like to conclude with wishing everyone a safe and fun weekend, one that is filled with those you love and those you hate because a balance is good in any circumstance, and I would like to wish my fellow Americans a Happy Thanksgiving because it is good to give thanks seeing as most every human is rude and selfish and probably never does, and if you have made it in reading this far I surely hope you did not hold your breath in each paragraph because, let’s face it, you would not have made it this far – now, I am off to shower, do my hair and dress up, and attend the first party late because everyone else simply decided to turn up early – goodbye!

The Stereotypical Amorality of Tattooed People

For years, tattoos have stereotypically been associated with bikers, gangs and criminals. Those imprisoned would receive tattoos and tattoo other prisoners to convey gang membership, and those who killed would tattoo tear-drops underneath their eyes - one tear-drop for each victim. Other forms of tattoos are tribal tattoos, and identification tattoos which Jewish people were forcibly given to permanently remind them that they were a part of the Holocaust. The stereotype, though, has since died down, as tattoos have become more common with youth. It is now recognised as a legitimate art form, and accepted in varied cultures.

Tattooing started out in Asia and Europe, and was adopted by Samoans as 'Tatau'. Female Samoans would receive a 'Malu', a tattoo to signify their progression into puberty, and males would receive a 'Pe'a' so signify male-hood, and respect for their courage. It was not until Captain Cook's Botanist, Sir Joseph Banks, in the 1700s, had returned to England with a tattoo, thus sailing, so to speak, the concept of tattooing across the globe. Sailors soon adopted this, and by 1870 it was popular amongst upper-class individuals, including royalty, due to the pricing. When the 1970s came along, tattooing became a fashionable thing in the Western side of the world, and has been redefined as an art form, and has pulled away from being merely a statement of individuality and rebellion, although most teenagers wait until they are seventeen to get their first tattoo because it is deemed utterly awesome to have ink in one's skin before the age of legality.

In this day and age, it would be difficult to understand why someone would not stray from the stereotypes associated with drugs and tattoos, unless of course they belong to the older generations of humans. A certain someone, though, has recently caught my attention as I was reading their article which attempted to describe Ian Watkins' appearance before diving into the gnarly details of his pedophilic state of being. I did not believe what I was reading - no, I did believe the pedophile part, because it has been blown out of proportions by the media and for once, for the right reasons, however I did not believe the portrayal of Watkins which was provided. I had mistaken the description for a Mexican Drug Ring leader or something of the sort. Here is a screen shot of the basis of my disbelief, located in the article:

I read it again to make sure that my mind has read it the way it was written. I thought that, perhaps my mind was playing some sort of trick on me, to agitate me and cause alarm for no apparent reason. But no, my mind was correct. What I read was right. The journalist was attempting to shun Watkins as a stereotypical rapist because of his "heavily tattooed" appearance, and associate this appearance with the use of drugs, in an attempt to justify his actions. I searched for a photograph of Watkins to make sure that my image of him had not changed since I had a poster of his face on my bedroom wall ten years ago, and I found his mugshot:

I observed this photograph for a mere twenty seconds and burst into laughter. From the description above, one would imagine Watkins to look something like this:

Honestly, whoever this 'AFP' character is that wrote this article is, needs a serious visit to Specsavers. They are seeing the world in the eyes of my hardened ancestors who attacked homosexuals or tattooed people on sight back in Lebanon. Listen to me, AFP: the insertion of lead-free ink into one's skin does not turn them into pedophiles. I have a tattoo close to my skull, and I do not seem to have been influenced to inappropriately touch children, nor sexually abuse them. Whoever you are, you need to go back to University and learn better adjectives to assist you to help describe the criminal at hand to the public. The way you have written this description implies that tattooed people are amoral, and the fact that you have written this so-called descriptor in the same sentence as the word 'meth' and 'desire' disgusts me even more - so all those who "desire" methamphetamine are "heavily tattooed" and run a risk of sexually antagonising and raping premature children? How is this man, as such, in any way heavily tattooed?

And in the mug-shot, which is the predominant photograph of Watkins at this point in time, all I can see is a hint of a tattoo on the left side on his neck. That description is downright misleading. As well as misleading, it is also inappropriate. Tattooed people are people too, there are more pedophiles and sadistic criminals and rapists out there who are not tattooed. Take Jeffrey Dahmer. Charles Manson. Aileen Wournos. Gilles de Rais. Richard Trenton Chase. Albert Fish. Andrei Chickatilo. Joachim Kroll. Dennis Rader. John Haigh. Adolf Hitler. Javed Iqbal. Ted Bundy. None of these sadists were "heavily tattooed". It is not scientifically proven that tattooed individuals are secretly sadistic pedophiles. That claim is just as unbelievable as claiming that people with fingernails which fall short of three-centimetres long will, in their lifetimes, consume more beer than people who regularly attend pubs. Or people born with a monobrow will be more likely to fall off a verandah due to the excessive weight on their face than people born with two eyebrows. Ridiculous!

What AFP should have written, is something along the lines of this: The fetish-fueled sadistic rockstar with an addiction to drugs and the sexual domination of fans and their children due to his fame who happens to have a few tattoos scattered around his body which have absolutely nothing to do with the case at hand, spoke of his desire to intoxicate one of his victims by blowing crystal meth smoke into the child's face. Judging by AFP's claim, though, I suppose Mike Tyson probably is a pedophile too.



                                                                                                                                                                                         
References:
Wikipedia [en.wikipedia.org]
AFP's news article: [http://www.theaustralian.com.au/news/world/lostprophets-lead-singer-ian-watkins-pleads-guilty-to-attempted-baby-rape/story-e6frg6so-1226769281856]

P is for Pedophilia

As most of you have recently heard, Ian Watkins from the band the Lostprophets has turned away from being a prophet proclaiming the righteousness of his music and become a lost prophet, per se, lost in a realm somewhere between the realm of what is not right and the realm of utter pedophilia, proclaiming his fetishes for pre-pubescent children, and most of all, babies.

There are varied terms to label the varied states of sexual attraction to certain individuals in society, particularly categorised by age groups. Most people have not heard of these terms, so I have taken it upon myself to explain each one and attempt to inextricably link them to the best of my abilities, and choose the best one to apply to Ian Watkins. Firstly, comes Paraphilia. Paraphilia is, as Wikipedia defines it, 'the experience of intense sexual arousal to atypical objects, situations or individuals'. This term ultimately summarises the entire world of unaccepted sexual fetishes. Then, comes Chronophilia, which is sexual attraction limited to particular age groups, and also houses sub-terms labelling those attractions. These terms which place creeps in our society under the freak radar are Hebephilia, Ephebophilia, Nepiophilia, Pedophilia, Teleiophilia, and Gerontophilia.

Hebephilia is the sexual interest to pre-pubescent children aged from eleven to fourteen years old. Ephebophilia is the adult sexual interest for girls aged fourteen to sixteen, and boys aged fourteen to nineteen, but also is sometimes used to label a sexual preference for adolescent boys - some Catholic Priests, arguably, can thus be labeled as Ephebophiles. Nepiophilia is a sexual preference for toddlers, aged from zero to three years. Pedophilia, the most common of the terms, applies to the sexual interest by people aged sixteen or above years towards children aged eleven years and under, or pre-pubescent children. Teleiophilia applies to the sexual interest in adults. Finally, Gerontophilia applies to the sexual preference for the elderly. In my opinion, I believe that Ian Watkins is both a Nepiophile and a Pedophile. I suppose it can be stated thus, that Ian Watkins has a Paraphilia fetish. Although it is normal for every person to have sexual fetishes, certain sexual fetishes themselves are considered abnormal, and severely frowned upon, more than masturbating in an aeroplane toilet is frowned upon. Yes. That was a Hangover reference.

Ian Watkins has basically outraged most of his fans, and allegedly at times sexually pleased others and their children, by using his rockstardom and position of power. I personally know a number of fangirls who have slept with famous men, simply because of their fame - for the famous person, it is another 'screw', and for the fan it is a screw and an unforgettable memory that they most likely will not share with their own children. He has pleaded guilty to thirteen sexual offences, including, informally, misusing his fame to enter adult and pre-pubescent genitalia - and has attempted to convince those in the courtroom, when the seventeen minute long footage of him and the mother of an eleven-month old baby performing a sex act on that baby, that he does not recall a bit of it, due to being high on crystal meth.

Police, after raiding his home, found tapes of Watkins performing sexual acts with underaged fans, most of them aged only sixteen, which additionally makes him an Ephebophile. This concoction of Chronophilia results in one thing - a mentally ill lead singer with no intentions but to keep sexually exploiting and abusing young children with his fame until he was caught. "If you belong to me, so does your baby", "a summer of incest and child porn", and "do you like being my underage slut" are words which echo biological needs mixed with mental corruption. And when one ponders whether the case can become much worse than it already is, it does: police have somehow seized Skype footage which shows Watkins masturbating as the woman on the other end of the call is abusing her child. This man's password on one of his laptops is "If***kids". Could he make this matter more blatantly obvious?

Watkins took the power of being an influential role model and transformed it to influenced role play, with children. Years ago, a swarm of 'dead baby' jokes infected the internet, and outraged many. Now, with Watkins doing nasty things on live babies, I, along with many other ex-fans, do not know how to feel. The scary part about all of this is that this sexual abuse, and worse, happens each day to many children. The only thing we can do is to make sure our children/sisters/brothers do not idolise famous people to the extent where they would sacrifice their virginity, mental state and dignity. And mothers, if you cannot distinguish between what is right and what is downright wrong, please offer your child to a better home and grow some right-minded sense. If that is downright impossible, then place yourself in the child's shoes. You would not enjoy it as much as you currently do.



                                                                                                                                                                                         
References:
Wikipedia [en.wikipedia.org]

Pets in the City

If you have a pet, you have a child. You have a baby child that is unable to converse with you - though it may appear so at times when dogs moan something that sounds like 'I love you' or when birds repeat things - and that baby child needs you, its mother, every single day. It's probably because you, fellow human, tore it away from its own mother. Unless of course you adopted it. Regardless, I believe pets require more blood, sweat and tears than tiny humans.

Take, for example, my parrot, Dorian. I have had him for almost two years now. I was gifted him on my twenty-first birthday, when he was a savage little black-beaked bag of feathers - now, he remains savage, but has grown both in size, strength and intellect. At the time, we thought him to be a female, so we named him Dora after Dora the Explorer, because he simply loved to explore foreign regions which weren't his cage: the kitchen, the curtains, the curtain stand, the top of the fridge, the back of the fridge, under the fridge, the three bathroom mirrors, the bedroom mirrors, everywhere. That was until we had to pluck some feathers near his butt which were over four centimetres long, and send them off to the DNA lab. Thus, Dory was made. And now he is Dorian because Dory is too cute of a name to use when you are telling off a psychopathic critter with Houdini-level sneaking skills.

As I type this, he is imitating a bat's call to acquire my attention, because he senses my presence in the study, the room near his aviary. This certain bat passes over our home each night, and my child has captured and mastered its call, and repeats it with an agitated squawk at the end of it to imply how serious he is about being angry with me for leaving him alone for too long - two minutes too long, most of the time. I have less time to myself now, not because I have a boyfriend, not because I have a job, not because I need to clean the house, but because I have a pet. A domesticated pet, which is the subject of which I have reaped. I have sowed wanting a pet parrot, and now, I reap. But it isn't all too bad, I suppose.

Pets bring positivity into human life. They can offer elderly, adolescent and pre-pubescent companionship. They fill in peoples lives when their lives have gaping holes of freedom and isolation, and thanks for our creation of smartphones, they mostly are the reasons as to why most social media has gained popularity. They teach humans responsibility. Going to the supermarket? Do not, and I repeat, do not forget to buy your cat Tabitha her can of Fish and Chicken cat food. Otherwise, you will wake up with strange claw marks all over your body. Having a nice big juicy roast for dinner while your dog Rufus has to eat last night's leftovers? Do not worry, he'll be on your lap in no time. Just make sure you give him 60% of your roast if you wish to live.

On another positive note, if you do not have anybody to come home to, it would pay off to have a needy pet cat who prefers your undying constant affection so long as you constantly stroke its soft spots and satisfy it enough to make it purr loudly and ruthlessly claw at your sensitive thighs. It will welcome you home with loud meows and affectionate leg rubs, leaving you to clean off its clinging fur from your  only washed pair of black work pants that you have to wear tomorrow and the day after until the weekend.

Pets are needy. Pets require a lot of attention and love and time and food and exercise and showers and shampoo and their food and yours. Pets will ruin your shoes. Pets will ruin your curtains. Pets will fornicate with your plush toys and legs. Pets will deploy faeces in the corners of your house that you forget to clean that very moment before your in-laws come over for dinner. But most importantly, pets will shine an everlasting gleam in your heart which slices through the dismay and loneliness that occupies it.

Generation T

Most claim that we, the current generation, are Generation Y. I ask, why? And I counter-claim, that we are generation T. The generation that took Technology under its wing, and has caressed it ever since the American sociologist Thorstein Veblen (1857-1929) had harnessed the German concept 'Technik', which came from the Greek word 'Technikos', and ultimately is defined as 'the totality of man-made objects'. Veblen held a strong habitual liking to sociology and economics, and after helping to found the Technocracy Movement, which overall proposed that for the benefits of the economy, politicians and business people should be replaced with scientists and engineers with technical expertise, strongly believed that one day technology would allow social movements to organise the economy's affairs. A publication from Technocracy Inc. proposed this:

'Technocracy is the science of social engineering, the scientific operation of the entire social mechanism to produce and distribute goods and services to the entire population of this continent. For the first time in human history it will be done as a scientific, technical, engineering problem. There will be no place for Politics or Politicians, Finance or Financiers, Rackets or Racketeers... we are now held to an artificial scarcity forced upon us in order to continue a Price System which can distribute goods only by means of a medium of exchange... the natural resources and the natural boundary of this area make it an independent, self-sustaining geographical unit.' 

Ron Miller, from Technocracy Inc., says the following in a video called 'Meaning':

'The fundamental premise of Technocracy is that the application of energy and technology in our social system will ultimately destroy the price system. All of this is what is driving our standard of living. It is the reason we live so well. For the first time in history, people can live very well without having to work very hard for it.' 

The 'Price System', in case any of you were wondering, Technocracy Inc. says, is:

'Any Social System that exchanges GOODS and SERVICES based on COMMODITY EVALUATION and uses DEBT TOKENS or MONEY.'

Basically, the social system which the Technocracy Movement opposes still exists, and co-exists with technology and politicians. In fact, technology has grown far beyond the reach of any politician, and most scientists. It has sprouted out of proportions and almost out of control, and continues to spiral into longevity. It has taken hold of human minds and lives. It has obliterated the traditional methods of communicating and created its own, assisting in the slow but sure destruction of human speech and oral language. 

I find that, and I will be honest, when I sit in front of my laptop, I procrastinate quite heavily. I struggle to stay on task because this shiny metallic and ultra fast piece of technology on which I write has so many other uses that it becomes difficult for me not to stray - and whilst I approach this mystical piece of wonder with one motive, I leave it having adopted many. And boy, does time fly. It leaves my grasp without me having a mere chance of retrieving it. It slips further and further away and there is nothing I can do about it because I simply cannot escape technology. Nobody can.

The creation of Technology mirrors the opening of Pandora's Box - the biggest evil in the world has been released and it refuses to be contained. Instead, it develops itself and finds new ways to capture every ounce of our attention. And it never fails. It accommodates to the needs of all and once used, it becomes difficult for the user to go back to their original ways of going about the task at hand. It has replaced humans in professional environments. It will continue to replace other forms of professionals until our professions are, literally, in the hands of what we have wreaked. We have wreaked a form of havoc which both assists us and assists in destroying us.

I cannot recall a moment as of late wherein I have not been in the midst of any form of technology. In the toilet, there are lights and spray bottles and antiperspirant cans and the flushing system of the toilet and the toilet paper roll and perfectly square tiles and grout and a door handle and a ceiling fan, all of which are a form of technology or have been made from technology. In my bedroom - an alarm clock, a phone charger my mobile phone, a dresser, socks, underwear, blanket with intricate lion design, screws in the bed-frame - again, all of which are technology or were made by technology. I had fried eggs for dinner - they came delivered by a truck, in an egg carton which perfectly encapsulates every egg, each of which came from an egg farm, and I turned on my electric oven and brought out my frying pan then opened the contraption which contains oil and poured oil into the pan and, after a chemical reaction took place which fried my egg, I took out from my pantry an immaculate porcelain plate and used a kitchen device to pick up the fried egg and place it onto that immaculate porcelain plate, and I returned to the pantry to take out a loaf of bread that was cooked in a factory by machines, which the origins of its package are from a plastic company, and I sat down on a chair that has perfect machine-quality stitching holding down faux-leather, not made naturally from animals, which holds down the strange substance that is plush, and I sat down and ate the egg. Technologically.

No matter where you go, and what you do, technology creeps beside you. Be afraid, for technology also watches you. And be ashamed! For technology also controls you. And be amazed, for technology will continue to amaze you. And, last of all, feel deprived, because technology also deprives you of a natural state of being.


                                                                                                                                                                                         
References:
Wikipedia [en.wikipedia.org]
Technocracy Inc. [www.technocracy.org]

An Introductory Essay to my Entertaining Essays.

First of all, I'd like to welcome new visitors: hello! And secondly, hello to those who have found this page due to my constant Facebook posts about it. Both you types of human beings roaming the internet and stalking this page are quite important to me, and you better believe it. Why? Well, because you have shown that you take an interest in delving deeper into my mind, and in essays.

Many people loathe essays. They loathe writing them, reading them, thinking about them or even saying or hearing the word 'essay'. You, though, my dear reader, do not qualify as one of these people, for obvious reasons, thus you cannot take any of the following words as anything other than humorous, or so I hope. Those people are fools! Why, essays form a large part of our communicative lives. I see essays as arguments. Every person can argue, unless of course they happen to have no tongue or vocal cords. People who speak different languages can even argue with one another, although they probably will not understand what either is saying - hand gestures, though, can assist them. Take, as an example, an Italian man and a Lebanese man. Both cultures are known for their violent hand gestures, thus they might be communicating successfully without at first realising it - however, if the Italian says something derogative about the Lebanese man's nose, then the Lebanese man will realise that he did so because both the Italian and the Lebanese men will point to their nose and make relatively the same gesture to imply the hilarity of its length or size. One can therefore claim that gestures can create accidental collaborative communication.

Another form of communication which utilises the use of essays is the grand social tool, Facebook. We have all sat through Facebook comment duels, either with or without the accompaniment of popcorn or other snacks. We have all found these comment duels, in one form or another, entertaining. And some of us have even been in these duels. Though they might not realise it, active duellers are using essay-writing techniques to bring their arguments forward. Even conversations which use barely any verified forms of punctuation or grammar, such as "u r stupid u cnt spel gramer" or "stp et mahn i trie evry tym" are argumentative, if they, per se, argue. What I am trying to say, be it that I may appear as Captain Obvious, is that all essays are arguments.

Reflect back to your high-school English classes - I will give you an example of one of mine. It was asked of us to respond to an essay topic about Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. I cannot remember the exact topics that we could choose from, but some would have been: 'Were Romeo and Juliet in love with one another or with the thrill they brought each other?' or 'Why are Romeo and Juliet's deaths seen as tragic? Discuss.' Whichever topic was chosen, had to be discussed. In a discussion, one makes claims and guides the reader back to the argument they are enforcing - and viola! An essay is born!

It is that simple. Essays, just like the act of reading, revolve around our everyday lives. And all those who deny it have no literary conscious state of being. The entire point of this first post or essay, though, is that, central to my theory that essays are arguments, I want to spend my spare time creating varied essays about varied topics depending on the interesting, thought-provoking, controversial events that occur in my long summer break. In doing this, I will ensure that I am entertaining my fellow friends and strangers, perhaps even educating them, and keeping my mind sane and in a considerably intellectual manner, in preparation of my third year in an Education degree. 

With all that said, and if you actually have made it this far in reading, I ask you to please follow my blog if you have developed a keen interest in delving into my mind. Without further ado, I give you, Entertaining Essays.