Seth Rogen Versus Kim Jong Un

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You know, I never thought that I would ever say this, but I feel sorry for Kim Jong Un. He has a face so adorable looking that I want to poke it and caress it and force it to drink tea with me and my teddy-bears at a pretend tea party.

I do not blame him for his anger at Seth Rogen and James Franco's new flick, The Interview. I mean, I am not going to go into an in-depth analysis through political views and metaphorical symbolism - there will come a metaphor later in this piece, though - contained in the movie, rather I will speak of this aligning with Kim Jong Un's reaction through a sense of similitude: if I had a movie made about the assassination of me, I would too want the movie itself to be assassinated, let alone the jokers acting in it. After all, I want to uphold my reputation as a capitalist slave in training as much as Kim Jong Un wants to uphold his reputation as a communist slave leader.

Now, I for one love Seth Rogen. I love James Franco also, but not as much as Seth Rogen, and even though I admire Seth Rogen a lot more than James Franco, I would not urinate on him to put out flames on his body, hypothetically speaking. Sure, I admire his movies and his humour and most definitely his infectious laugh, yet I also admire my sense of dignity and if he made a movie about my assassination, as funny as it may be, I would consider sending out nuclear missiles - hypothetically speaking, of course. Plus with my high student debt, I doubt that I could ever afford one of those things. See, kids? education really is good for you - and for the government.

This situation, and here comes the promised metaphor, is like a Facebook fight, wherein Kim Jong Un is being targeted by two keyboard warriors, James Franco and Seth Rogen, over something silly, but in this case it is his life and the need for it to be stopped, and Kim being Kim, is considering sending over a nuclear bomb to teach those keyboard warriors a lesson. Actually, to teach their entire nation a lesson, and maybe even the entire rest of the world. I can guarantee that you, fellow reader, have been at least once annoyed and bullied by a keyboard warrior. I know I have, and I sure would have wished I was in alliance with North Korea in the duration of those times. 'If you can't nuke 'em, join 'em'.

I suppose Kim Jong Un's main motive throughout this crazy declaration of a "merciless counter-measure" is revenge for both The Interview and Team America: World Police. I remember watching Team America: World Police despite my parents' warnings against it, fundamentally for its hilarious portrayal of terrorists through the amazing act of puppetry, but also for its hilarious Barbie doll-esque sex scene that amused me for months afterward, not to mention the catchy theme song resembling the utter patriotism of Americans. One thing I did not take into account, though, was its portrayal of Kim Jong Il, Kim Jong Un's father. 

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And now that I am reminiscing back on his portrayal and I am imagining myself in his situation - if my father, who resembles greatly Tony Soprano, and who premiered on the news speaking against the consumer monster Coles, and who made one of my family portraits shown below look like a mafia portrait, were criticised by two Hollywood keyboard warriors, I would be deeply unsettled. It is my job to give him a sense of annoyance, it is my job to make him regret ever deciding to multiply, and it is my job to jokingly criticise him, not the job of two financially-abled bodies. 

Yes, Kim Jong Un is indeed behaving like a hormonal teenager with nuclear privileges, however I would too behave in the same way given the circumstances. Unless of course I was able to laugh it all off, in which case The Interview probably is not that funny, considering Seth Rogen's reaction to Kim Jong Un's reaction, "People don't usually wanna kill me for one of my movies until after they've paid 12 bucks for it. Hiyooooo!!!"

Dopplegänger

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I remember that back in around 2010 Doppelgängers became popular on Facebook, and throughout Doppelgaänger Week, people set their profile pictures to anyone or anything that looks like them. I remember setting mine to Jack Black.

I came to a realisation tonight, that we also have Doppelgaänger names. I do not think that I am the only one who wonders what another person with the exact same name as me is doing with their lives - where they are, what they do, what hobbies they like, what foods they prefer. It compels me to wonder.  What are their circumstances? What career do they have? Do they know the same people as you? Do they look up to the same people? 

I happen to know someone who shares my exact first name and surname. We differ utterly in physical and mental states yet we share most of the same interests - rappers, scary things and pizza. I met her, if I can recall correctly, at a church Halloween party. Ever since then, I have been attending each Halloween and I scare her mask off when she reacts to my special fx makeup. Apart from all this we have twelve mutual friends on Facebook, but that number does not take into account all those both of us have met collectively. 

But I always wonder, what if we had the ability to swap into any of our Doppelgaängers' bodies? What if we had the ability to spend a certain amount of time living under the same identity but in another form, in another place, or possibly in another time? If only Doppelgaänger transferring was available. I am sure then that we would each have very interesting stories to tell.

Imagine you chose to transport into one of your Doppelgaänger's body and you were caught in the midst of a bank heist. You were holding a gun, and about to shoot an innocent bank worker. Just as you transported your Doppelgaänger pulled the trigger, and you yourself witnessed this innocent killing. Or what if you cannot swim, and after transporting into another Doppelgaänger's body you were caught under water, scuba diving with their husband? And you started to drown? Or perhaps you were able to adopt their swimming skills? What if you get stuck in your Doppelgaänger's body, never to return to your own and you bump into your original self one day?

I cannot help but to imagine this every time I think of someone with the same name as mine. It all seems impossible but one never can be too sure about something. 

The Universality of America and its States

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I have been working non stop all day on my artworks that are due in next week for a subject at uni. I have been working on these all over my house and my father's shop and finally I have landed in the warmth of my kitchen.

Eavesdropping on the television, naturally and inevitably seeing as it is always loud, I came across a television show that was on prior to the FIFA soccer match, Portugal versus Germany. It consisted of some Australian comedian interviewing rather patriotic and drunk Americans who apparently fit the stereotypes that he heard about them before being exposed to them. And the point that was brought up was quite interesting, and very accurate - upon asking these Americans where they were from, each one of them named a state within America - Boston, Chicago, New York, and so on. 

The comedian made a point - "do you expect everyone to know all of the states in America?" And the fact is that we do. Whenever somebody foreign, usually spotted with an accent when they walk into my father's shop when I am serving and usually brought around to ask me of my personal origins, asks me where I am from originally, I say Australia. Then I go on to explain how my parents are from Lebanon. And only if the person is Lebanese will they ask me, "from which area in Lebanon?" But I have never said anything other than Australia for my place of origin. Quite frankly I do not think that foreigners would know where Melbourne was. They might know Sydney, Tasmania and New Zealand but certainly not Melbourne.

It is very interesting. I know most of America's states without having traveled to either one of them. I know about their famous landmarks and of the tweaking of accents in each one and the stereotypical portrayals, whereas Australia has one stereotypical portrayal: bogans. I know more about them than about the states in my own country. It may have something to do partly with the fact that I am obsessed with everything American, and partly because America in its entirety is a universal place.

America is so universal that I have lost interest in anything Australian. Australian movies have become absolutely intolerant. Australian accents have become ridiculous. Australian culture has become shameful. America has such a profound effect on me that I am willing to leave behind half of my cultural roots in order to be consumed by this nation of greatness. It seems like the social norm to drink alcohol from red plastic cups at parties and to chant "U S A" at big stadium games.

And that strange American man in the show surely was right about America achieving "world domination". Well, it has at least dominated my world.

Why I Hate Those Who Complain

TED talks would have to be the very contentment of my existence. They offer me a divulging of issues otherwise unknown to me and they bring to light things that have been cowering in darkness.

Being a university student, I experience a lot of complaints on a daily basis, and just when you think that I escape these complaints when I leave campus, you are wrong. These complaints then take the forms of emails, text messages, Facebook statuses or phone calls, and find their ways back to me and I sit there attempting to conjure up an invisible forcefield that blocks all complaints from ever penetrating that forcefield and reaching my ears or my eyes because all I can think about are the necessary complaints that are not narcissistic and that come from those who are forcibly hushed, forcibly silenced, all for the first-world's benefits. And that is still not enough to satisfy.

Years ago, when I was a young child, I had barely anything to play with. I had little technological devices, and I was content. I was content having a shabby camera, a shabby television, a shabby video game console. I was content not having a mobile phone or a computer. I had other things to do, places to be, things to see. I was not spoilt, and I was not selfish, and I had demands only for some things that were advertised to me, naturally. Society, since then, has changed so much.

The other day I saw a toddler with his own iPhone. It was not his mother's, because she was speaking on hers. I stared at him with awe as his fingers kept flicking all over the screen as he walked by. He was immersed in it. If he tripped over at the time and hurt himself, he would not cry from the pain - he would cry from being torn away from his device for the length of a minute. He would cry if he could not achieve a certain score in the game or if his battery was running out.

Juxtaposed with a crying toddler from Ghana who has to carry slabs of stone held up by a piece of cloth hanging from his head, tied to a piece of stick and supported by his head and neck, this display of modern city indulgence is disgusting. Lately I have been exposing myself to a lot of social justice issues and I am continually shocked at how many problems there are with the world and at how little effort is put into fixing these. Why are these people still enslaved?

And to think my peers complain about the cold weather, the hot weather, the mild weather, the lack of weather, the existence of weather, the overly burnt piece of steak, the undercooked corn kernels, the fact that class is running two minutes after the scheduled finish, the fact that teachers share personal anecdotes, the fact that we study about basic human rights, the fact that we study at all. The list, if I record it and write it down, will exceed the length of lightyears and reach Pluto and make Pluto thank its God that it is no longer considered a planet by the peoples of Earth, no longer in their sights and no longer in their thoughts.

Open your eyes. Make a change. Bring things into the light. Watch the video above and indulge yourself in what real problems are. Stop complaining about little things in life, because out there in the real world is a person your age who has nothing. Not even a voice.

The Critical Unpacking and Rewriting of the Australian Anthem

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Australians all let us rejoice,

For we are young and free;

We've golden soil and wealth for toil,

Our home is girt by sea;

Our land abounds in Nature's gifts

Of beauty rich and rare;

In history's page, let every stage

Advance Australia fair!

In joyful strains then let us sing,

"Advance Australia fair!" 

When gallant Cook from Albion sail'd,

To trace wide oceans o'er,

True British courage bore him on,

Till he landed on our shore.

Then here he raised Old England's flag,

The standard of the brave;

With all her faults we love her still,

"Brittannia rules the wave!"

In joyful strains then let us sing

"Advance Australia fair!" 

Beneath our radiant southern Cross,

We'll toil with hearts and hands;

To make this Commonwealth of ours

Renowned of all the lands;

For those who've come across the seas

We've boundless plains to share;

With courage let us all combine

To advance Australia fair.

In joyful strains then let us sing

"Advance Australia fair!" 

While other nations of the globe

Behold us from afar,

We'll rise to high renown and shine

Like our glorious southern star;

From England, Scotia, Erin's Isle,

Who come our lot to share,

Let all combine with heart and hand

To advance Australia fair!

In joyful strains then let us sing

"Advance Australia fair!" 

Shou'd foreign foe e'er sight our coast,

Or dare a foot to land,

We'll rouse to arms like sires of yore

To guard our native strand;

Brittannia then shall surely know,

Beyond wide ocean's roll,

Her sons in fair Australia's land

Still keep a British soul.

In joyful strains the let us sing

"Advance Australia fair!" 

In yesterday's post, I feel like I touched a little too briefly on the Australian anthem and its many wrongs and hypocritical statements and how it should be changed, so I thought that I would take the time today to unpack it critically, and to rewrite it into something more accurate to Australian culture.

'For we are young and free;'

I did not know that existing in Australia deems one immortal and liberated from the law. I did not know that the Aboriginal people were free to do what they want when the settlement occurred, and I certainly did not know that young Aboriginals were not kidnapped, forced to assimilation and were later known as the 'stolen generation'. 

Our home is girt by sea;

I am one of the lucky people in my family to live well near the coastline, wherein all I ahve to do is drive a maximum of ten minutes and I have full exposure to the wonderful Williamstown Beach. Another five minutes, and I have Saint Kilda Beach. Seven minutes closer is Altona Beach, and thirty minutes further is Brighton Beach - ultimately, I have a lot of beaches closeby. However, the majority of the population begs to differ, so no, 'our' home is not necessarily girt by sea. And it is not 'our' home to begin with. If you argue that it is, then is it okay for me to barge into your luxurious double-storey home and claim it as mine because it is on a part of soil that has no sign, and assimilate you to my Lebanese ways? No? Why not? That is what happened to the Aboriginals, is it not?

When gallant Cook from Albion sail'd

How was Captain Cook in any way 'gallant' if he had feared the Aboriginal people? Was his claiming of the entire east coast of New Holland as his own despite the lack of permission of the original inhabitants 'gallant' too? I think a more accurate word choice is 'thieving'.

True British courage bore him on,

Till he landed on our shore.

What is it, exactly, that defines 'true' British courage? Is it the fact that the Queen would have his head if he dared not claim this new land in her name? And who is 'our' referring to in here? Did, at the time, Aboriginal people see him as a courageous British man who landed on their shore? And if 'we' claim ourselves to be 'Australian', then how come we still associate ourselves with Britain? Are we not 'gallant' enough to liberate ourself from Miss Elizabeth's rule?

The standard of the brave;

With all her faults we love her still,

"Brittannia rules the wave!"

So the 'standard' of being 'brave' is to invade another territory and claim it as your own despite the current inhabitants clearly inhabiting it? Am I 'brave', then, if I walk into K-mart with a flag that I design and place the flag in the middle of the store and shoot all those who attempt to escort me now because I own that part of land? Would that be a sufficient amount of standard for my darling the Queen? And with 'all her faults' they still do not acknowledge the fault of stealing land, because that happened. It only comes naturally that the buffoon who wrote this anthem then includes '"Brittannia

rules the wave!"'; yes, let the 'gallant' Brittannia rule the wave and take not into account its original rulers.

We'll toil with hearts and hands;

I can guarantee that the entire generation of Australians under the age of twenty are living on Centrelink pay with their parents and "can't be f*cked" getting out of bed in order to 'toil with [their] hearts and hands'. In fact, the only thing they will use their hands for is to acquire and prepare the use of illicit substances and alcohol and rolled up cylinders of tobacco.*

Renowned of all the lands;

Yes I suppose we are spoken about by many people, and not for the right reasons either. For one, Americans think that we eat Vegemite by the jar-full, they think that we ride Emus and Kangaroos to school and that we treat Aboriginal people in a similar way to the treatment of African-American people back in the times of segregation and the Apartheid. Well, they certainly are right about the last claim. We should not be proud of that.

For those who've come across the seas

We've boundless plains to share;

This is probably the most inaccurate statement in the entire anthem. I highly doubt that our Prime Minister Tony Abbott has any plains to share. In fact, I bet that as a toddler he did not share his toys with his playmates. He probably headbutted them into the sandpit and made sure they stayed there until their parents came to pick them up. We do not share, and we do not accept any visitors unless they can benefit our economy. Other than that, off to another island they go.

With courage let us all combine

To advance Australia fair.

Of course, those of us who seek out the ways of social justice truly need courage in case an Australian equivalent of Putin makes sure that nobody protests against the ways of this 'advanced' country - sure, we have advanced past the recognition of our massacring past.

While other nations of the globe

Behold us from afar,

We'll rise to high renown and shine

Like our glorious southern star;

The Southern Star technically belongs to the milky way. Apart from falsely claimed land, I do not think 'we' really own anything here, unless we are speaking of shame, in which case we own a lot of that. Or a Southern Cross tattoo. A European man named João Faras was able to depict the Southern Cross properly and guess what? He is not Australian. Nor British. Nor a convict. And sure nations 'behold us from afar', who wants to associate themselves with a bunch of bogans who think ill of the original land owners of the place they call home?

From England, Scotia, Erin's Isle,

Who come our lot to share,

Oh, yes, by all means, I am sure that in this day and age there are a lot of Australians willing to share 'our lot' of land. Exactly how much land is theirs to begin with?

Let all combine with heart and hand

Yes, I am sure Tony Abbott wants to hold your hand and listen to your third-world problems after you have gotten off the boat, which you gave the last of your life's earnings to be able to sale on. He has prepared you some tea, too, following the customary British tradition.

Shou'd foreign foe e'er sight our coast,

Or dare a foot to land,

We'll rouse to arms like sires of yore

To guard our native strand;

Brittannia then shall surely know,

Beyond wide ocean's roll,

Her sons in fair Australia's land

Still keep a British soul.

So then, I think it fair to agree that Tony Abbot has an ice-cold British soul. Well done, Abbott. Well, it makes sense that he acts in this way since he was born in the United Kingdom. Hey, Australians! You also do not own your own prime minister!

So, without any further ado, here is my revised edition of the Australian anthem:

Australians, all, let us unite

and acknowledge the land's original owners.

We know that Cook was the Queen's slave,

so dare he misbehave?

He claimed the land and nature's gifts,
killed most of the inhabitants too,

let history's page depict this age
of massacres, thievings and kills!

In shameful whispers, let us confess
"Australia is unfair!"

When thieving Cook from God knows where
came to Australia in his great big ship,

he landed on the shore and waved his flag,
and claimed it all as his.

he scared Aboriginals and scared the animals,
he considered them all part of the fauna,

and with the Queen in mind, he ensured mankind
trodded over some more inferiors!

In shameful whispers, let us confess
"Australia is unfair!" 

We don't even own the Southern Cross,
but we won't come to terms with that!

In fact the only thing we only really own
is Vegemite, thanks to Cyril Percy Callister!

For those who've come across the seas

Tony Abbott waits with his navy!

With weapons and deportation notices at the ready,
he ensures you have a quick stay!

In shameful whispers, let us confess
"Australia is unfair!"

While other nations of the globe

shake their heads at us from afar,

We'll drift in our Commodore utes, flip the bird,
with an arm that's tattooed with the southern star;

From England, Scotia, Erin's Isle,

we came as chained convicts!

We never respected the Aborigines
and still treat them like sh*t!

In shameful whispers, let us confess
"Australia is unfair!"

Shou'd foreign foe e'er sight our coast,

Or dare a foot to land,

We'll rouse Tony Abbott from his parliament perch

To guard our native strand;

All the lands shall surely know,

despite our claims that we accept diversity,

Her sons in "fair" Australia's land

are racist Aussie sheilas and blokes!

In shameful whispers, let us confess
"Australia is unfair!"

*note: this does not apply to all young Australians - this is an exaggerated and satirical take on the Australian anthem, please do not ask for me to be shunned from this gallantly claimed island.

Racism in Australia: "As If the Police Don't Already Have Enough to Deal With"

I stumbled across the video above just before, and sat there laughing at how ridiculous the entire situation is: I mean, is there a situation? Is there a high sense of racism in Australia? In Aussie, Aussie, Aussie? Yes, yes, yes.

Racism is all around. Quite often you pass white utes with bumper stickers that read 'True Blue' or 'Get Out, We're Full!'. Quite often you see Facebook statuses saying "playing 'Spot the Aussie'", implying that there are a small amount of what constitutes as 'Australians' in certain areas of Australia.

Allow me to give you a very brief history lesson: Aboriginal people lived here in peace. One day, ships full of white convicts came around and people from those ships began to claim parts of the land and began to massacre the Aboriginal people. These convicts then told the Aboriginal people to basically conform or die, assimilate or be massacred, so some conformed and a lot died. These convicts stole the babies of Aboriginal people and one went so far as to declare the 'Half-Caste Act' wherein these white convicts basically thought that they could 'breed-out' Aboriginal genetics from half-Aboriginal, half-white people. Yes - some loathed Aboriginal people so much that they saw fornication, sometimes forced, as fit.

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There are a lot more horrid things that were performed that white history attempts to ignore, but I shall not dwell into that as it upsets me terribly. Ultimately, and ironically, the Half-Caste-Racism Act occurred within these white settlers, and some began to 'breed-out' of racism, and that is where I fit into the story, as well as the majority of the students who have studied Rethinking Australian Studies, or any person who has common sense, per se. The only difference between this modern take on the Half-Caste Act is that in this Half-Caste-Racism Act situation, it actually works. 

Rethinking Australian Studies further developed us Half-Caste-Racists, and all in the name of voluntary attendance - no, we were not hunted down and forcibly taken to the university in chains and we were not beaten to a pulp until we listened and obeyed. We were reformed, and we were not assimilated in these reforming sessions. We simply learnt to think even more critically on what our society throws out into the world and we found our inner social justice voices, and we were able to rid ourselves of the preconceived notions based on racist stereotypes that revolve around Aboriginal people and their culture, as well as their appearance - this was emphasised when we all appeared quite stumped when our lecturer told us that him, as well as my teacher and another were of Aboriginal descent.

Take my teacher for Rethinking Australian Studies, the amazing Anna Liebzeit, who, if you Google Image her, you will not see anything of the sort that Google Images shows when you google 'Aboriginal'. Anna is an amazing artist, who does not specialise in dot-painting, who predominantly performs, and embodies the very notion that the Half-Caste Act was unsuccessful. So, is Google racist?  Well, take a look at the screenshot below and consider that for yourself. 

And just when I thought the Half-Caste-Racism Act was in full swing, I found the video at the start of this post. Unfortunately, we cannot travel back in time to teach these people the difference between moral and immoral, thus we have to rely on and pray for their sense of humanity, which after viewing the video, you will notice there is none of. This poor man has been racially prejudiced - his white neighbours in his street can accept watching Big Brother on their televisions but they cannot accept that this man has cameras moderating his own household in the event of racist attacks.

It is what Tracy Grimshaw says at the end of that clip, though, that tugs at my critical ear, "How on Earth do you get to the bottom of that? As if the Police don't already have enough to deal with." What are you saying, Miss Grimshaw? Are the Police's troubles troubling you? Do you have an inability to continue commentaries on television because of having to keep track on all of the incidents that Police need to respond to? Or do you think racism does not exist in this incident and that it is not a problem and that people who are racially prejudiced against should not give the Police any trouble? Is there no room for dealings with racial attacks?

"Racism was introduced into this country," says Adam, the fellow in the video below, who, by the way, encapsulates the very meaning behind my own post perfectly, thus 'Australians' should no longer be racist because racism is not 'Australian'. Advance Australia Un-fair. We are one, but we are many, and from all the lands on Earth we dare not come in the event of racial attacks. 

I am going to end this post with the full Australian anthem, and I will put in bold all the sentences or words that are morally and obviously incorrect; I will also underline parts that need revising:

Australians all let us rejoice,

For we are young and free;

We've golden soil and wealth for toil,

Our home is girt by sea;

Our land abounds in Nature's gifts

Of beauty rich and rare;

In history's page, let every stage

Advance Australia fair!

In joyful strains then let us sing,

"Advance Australia fair!" 

When gallant Cook from Albion sail'd,

To trace wide oceans o'er,

True British courage bore him on,

Till he landed on our shore.

Then here he raised Old England's flag,

The standard of the brave;

With all her faults we love her still,

"Brittannia rules the wave!"

In joyful strains then let us sing

"Advance Australia fair!" 

Beneath our radiant southern Cross,

We'll toil with hearts and hands;

To make this Commonwealth of ours

Renowned of all the lands;

For those who've come across the seas

We've boundless plains to share;

With courage let us all combine

To advance Australia fair.

In joyful strains then let us sing

"Advance Australia fair!" 

While other nations of the globe

Behold us from afar,

We'll rise to high renown and shine

Like our glorious southern star;

From England, Scotia, Erin's Isle,

Who come our lot to share,

Let all combine with heart and hand

To advance Australia fair!

In joyful strains then let us sing

"Advance Australia fair!" 

Shou'd foreign foe e'er sight our coast,

Or dare a foot to land,

We'll rouse to arms like sires of yore

To guard our native strand;

Brittannia then shall surely know,

Beyond wide ocean's roll,

Her sons in fair Australia's land

Still keep a British soul.

In joyful strains the let us sing

"Advance Australia fair!" 

Yes - there is a lot of revising to be done. 

The Teachings of Orange is the New Black: "Babies Give You Hope"

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I have been binge-watching the relatively new television series called Orange is the New Black. My second day in, and I am on my ninth episode of the first season.

If I have learnt something other than discovering that deep down I currently having a huge craving for living in prison and creating an undying mateship with all other felons and developing an equally undying hatred of some prison guards and they way that they manipulate felons, then I have learnt that my perception about babies has been single-sided all along.

Aleida Diaz, one of the characters in the series, or, for those of you who have not gone so far as being so immersed in this television show to the point where she says the quote located in the title of this post, the mother of Dayanara, who also is in prison, decides to give her daughter advice on what to do with her quickly developing baby, which has something to do with one of the prison guards. My mouth dropped millimetre after millimetre when I heard that quote being said, as I came to a realisation in my head about what babies really can mean to the world, or to the mother.

She continues on to describe to her own daughter that she has accepted her own wrongdoings, but sees her as hope, sees her children as hope, and so too should her daughter see her own daughter as a beacon of hope. This makes, to me, babies seem more interesting than how they were normally explained to me, 'an act of God', or 'a sign of womanhood'. No. Babies are more than little sacks of fat that wake mothers and fathers or mothers and mothers or fathers and fathers up each night. Babies are more than little waste- and barf-buckets. Babies are more than teething masses of mumbling and stumbling humans. They are the future.

This honestly has changed my entire perception of them. Now I feel grief for all mothers or fathers who have lost their babies to homicide or accidental deaths, to all those teenage mothers who were forced to abort their children, their beacons of hope. Everyone makes mistakes, everyone feels guilty about something, which empowers those guilty people who have babies to rejuvenate themselves, to rejuvenate their lives through what they made, to watch a sense of accomplishment that they never felt, to perform otherwise to the prior generation in terms of treatment and of teaching, to relinquish a sense of youth that they probably never got to experience, to warn about what they were never warned about. Babies are, in a way, a new slate.

And I honour mothers who I have witnessed treating their babies in this way. I, for one, will make sure that my future babies will eat healthier than a goat in the middle of a corn field. I will make sure that they develop interests in anything and everything that they desire. I will make sure that they will find their inner voice, that their identities will form to their fullest potential, that they have the most open of minds and that they embrace things wholeheartedly. I will make sure they they are tucked in so tightly so as to keep warmth from escaping at night and to, the following day, teach them about ensuring all other humans have that same warm experience. I will teach them about human and animal rights, and I will make sure that even if they are exploited for it, or mistreated for it, that they respect and love everyone indefinitely, especially themselves, no matter what they look like - the media will not govern the way my child will thin, and nor will any family members. 

Just like babies giving me hope, I too will give them hope, hope that there are parents out there who care not only for themselves but also for the greater good. I know that when my baby becomes a teenager, I will be hated on behalf of the greater good when it comes to lecturing them about things that are against their peers' actions. But most importantly, when I have my baby, I will remind them that they are central to themselves, and central to me.

Til Death Do Us Part: Childhood Books

When I was younger, I believed that I would grow up to be a veterinarian, own hundreds of birds and live on a farm picking blueberries and making blueberry pies and that I will be in a monogamous relationship with a man and we would grow old together and I would teach my secret blueberry pie recipe to my grandchildren. I believed this because of a certain picture book that I grew attached to when I was rather young.

I remember sitting in a waiting room, in anticipation of being called up by a specialist for some medical reason that I cannot recall. I can recall though that I was terribly bored and that despite being quite young, I was beyond the brain capacity of being entertained by alphabet blocks so I sought after the pile of books stacked neatly in front of me. After carefully looking through the pile, one book alone appealed to me, and I read it for the entire waiting period. It was about a grandmother whose grandchildren came over to her farm and would pick blueberries - she then would proceed to make blueberry pie and all three would consume it along with their grandpa. I made the story seem shallow but it is a lot more enjoyable than my vague description allows.

Another book that I vividly remember from my childhood was one about a unicorn. I was obsessed with horses and unicorns at the age of around seven, and it would only make sense to be obsessed with a unicorn book. I ordered it from Scholastic Book Club, and it came with a fabulous little necklace with a unicorn charm or pendant. It related to the storyline in that a little girl had a little unicorn, and when I say little I mean one the size of the charm on the necklace, and it would grow and take her on adventures - or so I recall. I just spent three entire hours googling all the possible titles and looking through all the possible images to spark my memory. I remember that it had a pink cover, and it was illustrated in a mildly sketchy manner. It also had sketches of this little unicorn throughout the book inside. All I could find related to my desperate search was another person desperately searching:

None of the suggested book titles in the above screenshot, though, are of the book that I am seeking. I used to take this book everywhere. I remember it always being on the dashboard of our family car because it was a priority passenger. I wore the necklace continuously too. I am not one to throw things away, that is my mother's job and unfortunately these two aspects of my childhood were part of this throwing away.

I would do anything to get a hold of these childhood classics. These books are meant to stay with me so that I can pass them on and watch the reactions of others when they too feel a connection with these books. It shatters me that I cannot find it. All I know is that it is possibly from the 2001 or 2002 edition of Scholastic Book Club. I have contacted them via email to see if they - hopefully - have archived copies of past catalogues. I highly doubt that they do, or if they do, it will most likely cost me - I do not mind paying whatever amount just to get a hold of these books. 

Another book that I distinctly remember was a large hardcopy edition of Black Beauty. It smelt of old books and had amazing illustrations within it and I borrowed it from my school library when I was in Year 3. I was in complete, utter awe. I did not want to return it. The illustrations were absolutely remarkable, I could not fathom how well the illustrator drew. My mother saw my obsession with it and tried to purchase it off my librarian - my librarian refused my mother's generous offer and I had to unwillingly give it back. Each lunchtime I would go back to the library and gaze at its wondrous illustrations, lusting for the book to be in my permanent possession. It never had the chance to.

Childhood books are imperative; I still remember the ones which resonated something within me to this day. It has been fifteen years since I have held any of these three books but I still remember them better than I remember what I ate this morning. They are part of my linguistic history and I wish to have them in my life again partly because they mean a lot to me and because they contributed to my linguistic and artistic flares that have had me succeed academically thus far. 

If only we had books vows. I, Nicole Haddad, take these incredibly wondrous and inspirational childhood books to be my lawfully owned resources, til death do us part; when and if I ever find them again. 

The Impact of Teaching

"The average American will meet ten-thousand people in their lifetime. Ten-thousand people - that's a lot of folks; but if every one of you changed the lives of just ten people, and each one of those people changed the lives of another ten people, and another ten, then in five generations, a hundred and twenty-five years, the class of 2014 will have changed the lives of eight-hundred million people. Think about it. Over twice the population of the United States. Go one more generation, and you can change the entire population of the world."

This is a large concept to grasp, that so little people can affect so many others. It applies not only to America, but also to the rest of the world that the average human will meet around ten-thousand people in their lifetime. And just like negative aspects, so too can the positive circulate around the Earth's population.

One form of circulating positivity is the path that I am currently taking: the path towards teaching. A teacher is no longer just an authoritative figure; not only a parent, nor just a guardian, rather an agent of change. A teacher has the ability to throw one's world upside down in a matter of words. The phrase 'you learn something new every day' is used constantly in an educative environment and it is threaded into the learning atmosphere almost subliminally. Though some students do not wish to be there, they, without a doubt, will be learning things in the entirety of their day. And these things are not necessarily only based on the curriculum, but they can be things associated with every day life.

I am estimating that there are around six hundred students currently undertaking the Bachelor of Education at my university - in total, despite how many years they are into it. And I am estimating that since we will graduate as teachers, that we will be exposed to more people than the average person, thus I will up the average number of ten-thousand to twenty-thousand people. With those calculations at hand, that means that collectively, all of the people currently studying the Bachelor of Education will, in their lifetimes, impact the lives of around twelve million individuals. That is just over half the population of Australia.

The power of education is incredible. Though he does not refer to it directly, Admiral William H. McRaven in the above video encapsulates in the first couple of minutes of his speech just how powerful the impact of one cohort truly is. Prior to that moment, I guarantee the graduating students of the University of Texas did not know just how big they are in such a small world. 

And then I got to thinking; I recently just completed a unit called Rethinking Australian Studies, which ultimately was taught by non-stereotypical looking Aboriginal people who brought forth to our class the need to break free from the stereotyping and tokenising of all Aboriginal people, and brought into light the atrocities committed at the time of European settlement in Australia. The unit went much deeper than that, though, much deeper than the mere 'Sorry Speech' Kevin Rudd delivered - it required us, the students, to choose something to protest for or against, in terms of pro-Aboriginal rights. 

I initially was uncomfortable about the entire idea. I was frightened that the Police would give me a bad record for having to physically take photographs of myself with my protest poster in a public place, and I was worried that I would the get the message caught up and whatnot. Everything, though, turned out fine. In my class I met dozens of new people who I made an impact on with my poster art, I made an impact on my lecturer and two teachers, and made an impact on the people in the city that day who gawked at me standing with my group and our protest signs in front of the Parliament steps. 

And it has made such a difference in my life. There is an uncountable amount of strangers who I probably impacted on with my poster alone, that I have not yet met, yet they count on the people that I have actively changed. Every reaction we obtained would have then caused a chain reaction - those strangers would have gone home, gone to the pub, gone to work, gone to a fitness class and they would have told their friends or family members or co-workers about what they witnessed in the city, who later would have told their friends, family members or co-workers. It is an ongoing reaction. Imagine all the impact everyone would make if more people took a stand for various aspects of social justice. 

And that is the beauty of teaching. Not only are teachers the only teachers, but so are the students. I learn so much from going on pre-service teaching placement. I learn from the staff I meet, the fellow pre-service teachers I meet, and the students. Life is an ongoing lesson. We all matter. We all make a difference. Each choice we have impacts not only ourselves but also others - think about it: change one thing that you did today, whether it be a different setting or a different way of answering something or a different person you sat next to; how much difference would that have made? Yes. A lot.