All Souls' Day.

Ah, glorious stuvac. And just like very other study vacation I've had the pleasure of experiencing, I've found other things to do aside from studying. Like being manly and playing around with power tools. No, seriously. I had to saw a couple of centimetres from the legs of a table that Mum thought was a little high. So I did that, and watched Parliamentary Question Time on ABC TV too. And a couple of other things as well. So all in all, not a page was turned. What an excellent effort, don't you think?

We've had kids trick-or-treating all evening, and I can't help but be a little-- I don't know, worried I suppose. I mean, sure, Hallowe'en is a tradition dating back to pagan Europe but it's only been popularised here via overexposed American popular media. Rue the day when Aussie kids know more about and maybe even celebrate, say, the Fourth of July or Thanksgiving while being totally ignorant about Australia and Anzac Days. Of course, this is all speaking in hyperbole. But still.

On a somewhat related matter, we have Government MPs complaining that the ABC doesn't make enough local drama. Well geez, of course they aren't. Not when the Government that these very MPs belong to cuts the ABC's funding year after year and then spends $55 million on worthless Liberal Party propaganda instead. Bah!

And ironically, speaking of things American pop culture, I just realised that South Park's Kyle Broflovski is like this one ex-boyfriend of mine in so many ways. Aww.


Listening to:
Title: Hip To Hip
Artist: V
Album/station: You Stood Up (2005)
Length: 3.29

I choo-choo-choose you.

Yesterday my best mate Adam took me on a heritage rail tour. Now this is probably something I should mention, a confession I need to make. I'm Mikey, and I've never grown out of the Thomas the Tank Engine phase. Deary me.

The preserved electric locomotive 8606 and Silverton's 8644 hauled the train of 3801 Ltd's forties-era ex-NSWGR passenger carriages. It left Redfern at about 9.30am and went around the City Outer, Airport and East Hills Lines to Glenfield, then went north to the Harris Park Y-Link, west past Parramatta and then all the way over the Blue Mountains to Lithgow, arriving at quarter to two in the afternoon. Adam and I managed to get a cab ride in the loco from Werrington to Faulconbridge along the way (how many people can say that they've done that?).

The inner nine-year old Mikey had a field day. It was a fun trip, and I spent most of it hanging out the open top half of the horse-stable-esque carriage doors with the wind in my face while we hurtled down the track at maximum line speed.

We had lunch and a drink or two at a pub in Lithgow before making the return journey. We left at about twenty to three, coming back via the Metropolitan Goods Lines and Enfield Yard and taking a trip up the Eastern Suburbs Line to Bondi Junction. The looks we received from bewildered commuters, especially on the ESR, were classic. When the train glided alongside the underground platforms between Redfern and the 'Junction, some tried to board. And some didn't seem at all surprised that CityRail may have resorted to using mid-twentieth century rolling stock.

Even if you aren't a gunzel, a heritage rail tour is something everyone should get around to doing. There is a romance involved with long distance rail travel, let alone locomotive-hauled passenger trains. You know the kind - fast smooth trips, stopping at quaint country towns, casual wanderings to the buffet car, the privacy of your own compartment if you're lucky enough - that sort of thing. Economic rationalism has left us with somewhat unappealing modes like the XPT or Xplorer and, even more digustingly, road coaches. Shudder.


Listening to:
Title: Lovecats
Artist: Paul Anka
Album/station: Rock Swings (2005)
Length: 4.01

Attention: The Governor of New South Wales Professor Marie Bashir AC.

I draw your attention to section twelve in the Constitution.

"The Governor of any State may cause writs to be issued for the elections of senators for the State..."

Chapter I, Part II, section 12, The Commonwealth of Australia Constitution Act 1900.

Tell all your Governor friends. It'll be fun. Trust me.

Listening to:
Title: Sweet Harmony
Artist: The Beloved
Album/station: Ministry of Sound: Chillout Session, Vol. 2 (2002)
Length: 3.23

Thor's day.

Today was my last day of lectures. Only the Mössbauer report for experimental physics and one more organic chemistry lab report and I'm finished for the semester.

My chem lab this afternoon was shocking. See, I hate it when people blame equipment when it's plainly obvious that it's really their incompetence that's causing things to go wrong. And as much as I don't want to be one of those people, I have to say that there can't be any other reason than the faultiness of the apparatus. We were meant to be synthesising 5,5-dimethyl-1,3-cyclohexanedione and, well, all I ended up with was an off-white filter paper. Something was wrong with my steam bath, and the solution in my round bottom flask just wouldn't reflux. Ergo, no synthesis and no crystals. Ah well. If I pass CHEM2402 this semester, I won't ever have to do any of this ever again. So here's hoping.

Amongst other things today, Nik and I visited the coordinator for our course to get some advice about pre-enrolment for next year. Both of us are a little miffed about the absence of a physics science teaching elective, seeing as we both want to specialise in teaching physics. Apparently it's not likely to run at all - not next year, nor the year after. But he says we'll be accomodated some way or another. Sigh.

Anyway, I'll be overloaded in second semester next year, it seems. The only science teaching electives I'm otherwise eligible to take are for senior science and chemistry, and they only run in second semester. So including all my other second semester units, I'll be on thirty credit points. I barely made it through twenty-eight last semester. Woe is me.

But on the plus side, I get to do twenty-five days of practicum! Hah! I get to go into a school and impart some of my wisdom to wide-eyed high school youngsters. Erm, right.


Listening to:
Title: Heartbeat
Artist: Steps
Album/station: Step One (1998)
Length: 4.25

The business end of semester.

I have five things to do before the week is out for uni:

1. My section of the report for our experimental physics project on the Mössbauer effect;
2. My part of the presentation for the aforementioned project (on the nuclear Zeeman effect), to be given tomorrow afternoon;
3. An assignment for special relativity;
4. An assignment for quantum physics; and
5. Two lab reports for organic chemistry.

In classic style, I'm procrastinating. It hasn't all been pointless though. My hapless distractions have had me ducking and weaving through articles on Wikipedia. I'll tell you what, it might not be classed as a peer-reviewed resource but when you're having a mental blank, it's excellent.

And how much of a horse's cock is John Howard being? (Getting in early, so I will/won't be convicted for sedition).

Amongst other happenings, Mattymoo is now a barcode babe at a supermarket which happens to be my local. And speaking of whom, I haven't seen him for a while, which is a shame. Apparently he wants an actual relationship with the girl that he was diddling. Ah well, too bad she has a boyfriend now.

Also, more inquiries from Pat about my sex life. See, last night he managed to bed an older woman (something he seems to do quite often) and turned up at uni with only a few winks, as opposed to the full forty. It was cute, the way he kept falling asleep during lectures. Anyway, lunchtime discussion lead to questions about the oldest people we'd slept with. Of course, I didn't go into any details, but I made mention of the almost-forgotten flyboy Dave from way back when I was seventeen; he was twenty-three. Gosh, how could I forget him?

So now that his manly 'hunger' has been catered for, I suppose it kills those thoughts in my mind of him as the horny straight lad desperate to stick it somewhere. Yes, it's been a long time for me too.


Listening to:
Title: Isn't She Lovely
Artist: Stevie Wonder
Album/station: Evenings with James O'Loghlin / ABC 702 Sydney
Length: -.--

Monday night musings.

My legs ache. Probably from yesterday's paintballing fun. You know, from all the running, jumping, crouching and such. I'm finding it difficult to climb up or down stairs. Pain just shoots up from below my waist and above my knees. But it's good pain. Satisfying pain. Don't ask me why.

Earlier today, there was a whiney bitch on the bus from uni. As people boarded at the City Road gates, she shouted at the bus driver not to let any more on because there were more than fifteen people standing, despite the bus being licenced to carry twenty-three standing. And I'm pretty sure that the fifteen-standing limit is only advisory and up to the driver's discretion. She whined all the way to Railway Square, all the while being jeered by other passengers and then claiming the right to free speech (which she doesn't technically have due to the lack of a Bill of Rights in this country).

By the time we'd arrived at Railway Square, the bus driver had had enough and kicked her off. She wouldn't leave. He called the police. She demanded her fare back. More jeering. She called the rest of the passengers cunts. Then she finally left. Bitch.

And Pat asked me what my thoughts on hairy arses were. I can't for the life of me remember why that came up. I told him what I thought and that I'd never really come across a bad case of arse hair. And he looked somewhat the wiser for it. Strange.


Listening to:
Title: This Old Love
Artist: Lior
Album/station: Autumn Flow (2004)
Length: 3.03

Mikey goes to war and shoots things.

Three words kids. Paint. Ball. Skirmish. Today, I went up with a couple of mates to the Paint Ball Place up on the Central Coast. We indulged ourselves in some primal urges and hunted things-- erm-- well, other people. We went up because one of the girls in Adam's pipeband was raising money for the Fred Hollows Foundation and organised this little trip for us all.

I've never had so much fun in my life. I was actually pretty shocked about how much I enjoyed it. I mean, a simulated battle with guns and shooting probably isn't quite a wholesome family-style activity. War is bad, right?

But gosh, it got the adrenalin pumping. I felt so manly holding that gun, that CO₂ powered semi-auto, and popping up from behind obstacles and putting a few rounds into someone. Singular bangs rang out over the valley aswell as staccato rat-atat-atats. Rounds went whistling overhead and whirred through the long grass. Along with everyone else, I was jumping from behind tree to tree, rocks and logs, commando rolling and diving through the scrub. Grunt. And when you get in close, combat reduces to an all out mêlée. Paintballs come in from all directions, and when you get hit, you really get hit.

Real war, of course, isn't so fun. After all, you can't just wipe off a 'wound' and get started again. Nor is there a guarantee that you'll go home at the end of the day, where a long hot shower is waiting to soothe one's aching muscles. Despite that, I still wanted to join the Army Reserve not too long ago.

And those paintballs hurt like a bitch. I'm covered in little round bruises and welts. But that's of no matter, pain was my friend today. I mostly got hit in the face, which didn't really hurt due to the face mask. It's more disconcerting than anything else - the balls just go splat all over the goggles and you can't see anything. I copped a few on my arms, my chest and my back too. It's ridiculous. Even when you've been hit and are heading off the field, they still shoot. Bah!

Most of the games were capture-the-flag type things, but the best one was the hide-and-seek. It was in the back battlefield, in the forested part of the property. One team was to hide throughout the field, usually in protected foxholes or behind logs, and the other team had to sweep through and find them.

My team - the Blue team, denoted by the blue visors on our Darth Vaderesque safety masks - didn't really do too well for most of the day. Except that one capture-the-flag game where I triumphantly got my hands on the flag and ran it to the end zone, we either lost or drew with Orange. They just worked together better. Ah well. Besides, primary colours beat secondary ones where it counts anyway.

One of the highlights was seeing the hot orange boys take off their tops and drive away topless. Not surprisingly, the place was also packed with trigger happy fools who fired their guns at targets and trees when they weren't shooting others. Anyway, I can't wait to do it all again.


Listening to:
Title: Spill The Light
Artist: Betchadupa
Album/station: The 3D E.P. (2001)
Length: 3.34

Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.

Intelligent design as a scientific theory sucks balls. I saw a piece about it on ABC's Catalyst tonight and, well, everyone's been talking about it for yonks, so I thought it was about time that I put my 2.2 cents in. See, at the end of my degree I intend to be a secondary school science teacher. You know, the hot young teacher that all the girls want but obviously can't have. But I digress.

As a matter of principle, I've set myself these two things: I will only teach in public schools; and I will not teach in a school that adopts intelligent design in its science curriculum. And I have faith (pardon the pun) that public schools will remain largely secular and will not themselves adopt ID either.

Intelligent design is not science. ID is theology. Sure, one can think and believe in whatever one wants to, and if one believes that the two are connected then it's their prerogative to do so. But as far as education in academia goes, the two are mutually exclusive. Science may be taught in the science classroom, and religion may be taught in the religion classroom and nary the twain shall meet.

I personally think that scientifically, ID is a bit of a cop out. The basic tenet of the 'theory' is that there are too many holes in the Darwinian Theory of Evolution, so someone of some higher intelligence must've put it all together instead. But like all theories, Evolution isn't complete. And we shouldn't throw our hands up and say "oh, this is too hard, we'll just say that someone made it that way" instead of working towards the answer and learning things along the way. As far as science goes, it's plain laziness.

Imagine if we'd extended this to other areas of human endeavour. Where would we be?



Hmm, some lighter thoughts are in order. You know sometimes I wish that I was straight. I've been told recently that girls want me - well, more than boys do at least. Le sigh.

Also, Pat's looking for people to go on a trip with him up the Sunshine Coast after exams. Of course, I can't go nor can I afford to but that isn't stopping him from talking it up with me. He really wants the trip and to cut down on costs, he needs another few people to help pay for the room. The room which, he tells me, consists of a couple of singles and a big double bed... that he says he's willing to share with me. The flirt. Will he stop at nothing? Damn straight boy. The arrogance. The-- bah, who am I kidding?


Listening to:
Title: Fields of Gold
Artist: Eva Cassidy
Album/station: Live At Blues Alley (1998)
Length: 4.59

Bah!

I was really buggered yesterday. I fell asleep on the ferry and almost missed my stop. Deary me, you know you're getting old when you start falling asleep on public transport.

When I got home, I flopped onto my bed and that was the end of it. I was planning to get up at some stage to have dinner but that didn't happen. So now here I am, hungry, with hours to go before I really need to get up and nothing to do.

Meanwhile, I love today's Heckler in the Sydney Morning Herald: Introducing SerfChoices.

"The Government is proud to unveil its new industrial relations program - SerfChoices. You may have seen the ads for it already: smiling peasants plough the fields while soothing mandolin music plays. You wouldn't believe how hard it was to find peasants with full sets of teeth for those ads, this being the Middle Ages and all. Or ones that remembered how to smile."

It's high-larious.


Listening to:
Title: Hungarian Dance no.5
Artist: Brahms/Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra
Album/station: Breakfast / ABC Classic FM (Sydney 92.9FM)
Length: -.--

See something? Say something.

My hair had gotten to that stage where it was too long to manage (well, by my standards anyway), but not long enough to just leave it after I get out of the shower in that sexy shaggy kind of way. So I had most of it lopped off this afternoon after uni.

I went to the Filo place that I always have my hair done. The ladies there are lovely and they treat me like a son. It's excellent. They know my mum, so they're always asking about how she is and stuff. I love the way they gossip and joke around in Tagalog, and when they see me giggling they're surprised I understand what they're on about. It's better that way though, I mean, when translated literally into English, most jokes just don't make sense.

Today they had some sixties Filo pop-rock playing and some started bopping along with each other. And there was this one woman who suffered badly from foot-in-mouth disease, much like my father does sometimes. Erm, often. And when she tried to rescue herself, she just dug herself in deeper. Ah well, you just had to laugh.

Amongst some of the other achievements today, we've finally got a title for our EDUF2007 project. 'Drug and Alcohol Education in Schools: Attitudes and Efficacy'. It's coming together quite well, considering that it's due tomorrow. I have a sneaking suspicion that it's actually due today, but the late penalty of five percent roughly equals 1.75% of the total assessment mark. Even if it was due today, it's really nothing to crap one's self over.

Also, I have finally conquered the Schrödinger equation. I've solved it! Well, the one-dimensional time-independent version of it, at least. It seems like it was only yesterday that I didn't have a fucking clue. But over the last few days, I have systematically shat all over it, mainly with the help of the differential solver in MatLab. Not that it's a big deal or anything. After all, it's only just baby steps at this stage.


Listening to:
Title: (Let me be your) dirty f#!@ing whore
Artist: Machine Gun Fellatio
Album/station: Paging Mr. Strike (2002)
Length: 1.36

Sunday night musings.

Yesterday, like that one day in October every other year, I went to the local district gala, the Granny Smith Festival. Of course, Ryde being the birthplace of the Granny Smith apple and all, what else is there to do but eat apples? And I tell you what, I don't think I could look at an apple let alone eat one for the next few months.

I think the local knees-up has lost a bit of its lustre. Maybe it's just because I've grown out of it a little. I remember that all through high school, Granny Smith used to be one of the big things on the social calendar. It was all about who was going with who, and the stories of the juvenile shenanigans from that one day in October often lived on, well into the next year.

That said, it was still good. The community was out and out, Rowe Street was plugged up with boutique stalls and Eastwood Oval was packed with dressed-up kids of all ages queuing up to go on one of the rides. There was no shortage of pretty or spunky lads either, and they were the types that I like too - surfer-skaters and prettyboys in general. Of course some of them, as Dave from uni puts it, would probably have to be put away on layby for a year or two. Heh. Erm. But yeah anyway, there was, however, one thing missing this year: potheads smoking bongs behind Baker's Delight. Ah well, can't have it all.

Last night, one of the boys in my year group in high school was launching his album at my local, the Eastwood Hotel, and the night turned into a small reunion. Amongst those in attendance were two ex-girlfriends (yes, girls), both of whom are now engaged to be married. I saw one, Cindy, and we briefly spoke. I put on the campest act - just for fun, and asked to meet her fiancé, but she wasn't fond of the idea. "What am I supposed to say?" she asked me. "Tell him, 'hey, meet my gay ex-boyfriend'?" I didn't see her point.

A couple of years ago I'd met Dylan, the fiancé of the other (girl)ex and close friend Jenni, and he's excellent. And cute too. Great seeing him again. She'd just come back from a two-year stint working at a hotel in Uluru and I hadn't seen her since she left, so we had heaps to catch up on. Gosh I missed her.


Listening to:
Title: 60 Miles An Hour
Artist: New ORder
Album/station: International (2002)
Length: 4.35

Wishful thinking.

Today, Pat was reciting a little bit of some Eddie Murphy schtick, where he pretends to be Mr T, had he been gay.

"Hey boy", he says. "You look mighty cute in dem jeans. Now come on over here... and fuck me up the ass. Now I'm a-gonna ben' over... and you better start fuckin'."

He clicked his fingers as he spoke those last three words. I didn't believe my ears when I waltzed into that conversation. Could this have been one of my fantasies coming true? I mean, one of my fantasies not including being screwed by Mr T, of course.

So I was a little deflated when I heard where it was from. I mean, why would a straight lad need to put on an amusing accent in order to bed another? Of course he wouldn't, he's just putting it on for comedic effect, stupid. Bah! Still, it was cute. And disturbingly sexy.


Listening to:
Title: Taste In Men [Alpinestars Kamikaze Skimix]
Artist: Placebo
Album/station: Once More With Feeling: Singles 1996-2004 (2004)
Length: 4.36

A right royal whinge.

A nine hour day today. It started with a chemistry lecture at 8AM and finished with an education lecture at 4PM. I mean, sure it was pretty cushy by most standards, with an hour break between most classes, but it was long nonetheless. You know, this semester has felt the longest out of the four I've had the pleasure of experiencing. I don't know why.

Maybe as a result of the day that was, I have a throbbing headache. And what's worse, I have one physics assignment due tomorrow and another physics assignment due on Friday. I've never hated electromagnetism and/or special relativity more.

And food has been tasting overly salty too. Bah! Kidney stones anyone? Umm,no wait. That might just be Dad's cooking. There have been salt issues before. I should've remembered that.


It's pre-enrolment time at USyd again, and I'm most dismayed about the advice that us B.Ed(Sec.).,B.Sc. students are getting. Evidently, we're not meant to take any third-year science units in first semester next year and only one of those in second. Hot American Nik was equally miffed about it. Like me, he doesn't want to lose 'momentum' with our science studies (pardon the pun). And in addition to that silly business, there also aren't any physics teaching electives next year, which is a bit of a shit, seeing as I'm aiming to teach high school physics. Bah!


Listening to:
Title: Eternal Life
Artist: Jeff Buckley
Album/station: Grace (1994)
Length: 4.52

Monday night musings.

Deep breath. Alright, here goes. I have a crush on a year twelve boy. There. How embarassing.

There's this lad who catches the same ferry that I do. Without fail, as the 3.10pm Rivercat ex Circular Quay pulls up to Milson's Point wharf and surrounded by a rabble of posh junior private school kids, he steps aboard. He's like this solitary tall figure towering over a flock of little kids. Blue blazer, blue and yellow tie. Baby face. Broad shouldered. And short, dark and scruffy surfy hair.

I've never spoken to him, and I don't think I could. But I've heard his voice though. It's a lot deeper than you'd think, just by the look of him. Of course now that year twelve has finished for him, he won't be catching my ferry anymore. Le sigh.

Bear in mind that I'm only nineteen and he's only two years younger than me, tops. So it's not as wrong as it could be.


This week, I conducted the interviews with my friends for my EDUF2007 project, which has now been dubbed 'Drug and Alcohol Education in Schools: Reflections'. There had to be a colon in the title. I remember some wise words from Dr. Karl about it. Come to think of it, I can't remember what he said at all, but for some reason it was important to have a colon. But I digress.

Of course, for ethical reasons, I can't really say much about the reponses I got - not until we finish the report at least, university policy and such. But I'm surprised by what I've found: my mates are a bunch of quite sensible people. I mean, not that their sensibleness is what surpises me - I've always acknowledged their sensibility. Only when it's-- erm-- measured, I suppose, does one really come to terms with it. You know what? They rock. I wouldn't entrust my life with anyone else.


Sometime in the future, I intend to change my name. I'm playing around with some different given names at the moment - Ben for example, but I'm almost definitely going to change my surname to my Mum's. And thus concludes my Monday night musings.


Listening to:
Title: Semi-charmed Life
Artist: Third Eye Blind
Album/station: Third Eye Blind (1997)
Length: 4.30

Thursday thoughts plus uni woes, part trois.

Evidently, ModBlog shat itself so bad that it now has a prolapsed rectum. Ergo, still no images.

And okay, so maybe organic chemistry lab wasn't so bad today. In all fairness, it wasn't quite organic chemistry. For some reason, we were synthesising inorganic compounds (the [Ni(en)₃]Cl₂.2H₂O I mentioned yesteday). The lab tutors on the level five lab didn't seem to know much about anything, seeing as it wasn't their field, but were captivated by the colours that they usually don't mess around with - pretty purple.


I picked up the Queer Edition of Honi Soit today and skimmed over it at our regular Thursday morning Manning hashbrown session. Homophobia was mentioned several times in it, I noticed, which isn't entirely unexpected seeing as it is one of the big queer issues. I have no doubt that it exists but I can't recall a time when I was a victim of it. I suppose I should count myself lucky.

Incidently the other week, in one of his more sensitive moments, Dave asked me if I'd ever been picked on specifically because of the gay thing and after thinking about it for a while, I told him that it hadn't ever happened to me. Even the most outspoken anti-gay boy in my year group in high school (who happened to be drop dead gorgeous, too) went out of his way to tell me how he'd had a sneaking suspicion that I was into lifting shirts instead of chasing skirts and how cool he was with it. And that was after he'd heard a rumour that I wanted to fuck his brains out. I was touched - obviously not in the way that I would've liked but you make do with what you have.

So after the clear run I've had, would I be right in thinking that it could all come crashing down? I hope not.


Listening to:
Title: Sweet Virginia
Artist: Gomez
Album/station: Ministry of Sound: Chillout Sessions, Vol. 6 (2004)
Length: 4.51

Uni woes, part deux.

There's this one thing of note that I forgot to mention in that last post about the banality that is my uni course. My group, which includes a rather hot American ex-pat, started on our experimental physics lab project (involving the Mossbauer Effect), down in the third-year laboratory where the equipment for it lives.

The third-year lab is an amazing place. It's packed with various apparatus. Some of them are new, some are old and some ancient but still in excellent working order. And another thing that the third-year lab holds within its walls: radioactive sources. Our experiment uses the gamma decay of ⁵⁷Co (cobalt-57) to ⁵⁷Fe (iron-57). And seeing as I'm the one least likely to have kids, I volunteered to man-handle the equipment. I only have the future children of my lab partners in mind, of course. It's funny how us physics students are so blasé about radiation. But one mention of it amongst the hoi polloi results in mass hysteria.

Anyway, the windows of look right onto the path from St Paul's College, which passes within metres of radioactive neutron sources down in the back corner of the room. Despite being sheathed in a castle of lead blocks, there's still an exclusion zone that extends for a couple of metres away from it and into the lab. Yet on the opposite side and protected only by a pane of glass, spunky college boys (whom I couldn't help but perve on when they walked past) are exposed to neutrons every day on their sojourns to class and back. A case of schadenfreud? Possibly.


Listening to:
Title: The Hero Dies In This One
Artist: The Ataris
Album/station: So Long Astoria (2003)
Length: 4.06

Uni woes.

Firstly, pardon the lack of images. ModBlog, where I host them, severely shat itself the other day and hasn't been well since. Ah well.

So from here on in at uni, it's crunch time. Bah! It's Wednesday and I'm bogged down in it. Project due dates are coming up, and in true Mikey style, I'm struggling to have them done in time. I'm getting a wriggle on, but I'm not panicking - it's just not my style.

My education partner and I got started on our report for EDUF2007, the working title of which is Drug & Alcohol Education in Schools: Attitudes and Effectiveness. No, it's not quite catchy, is it? Come to think of it, we probably should've gone for some sort of inappropriate and/or totally unrelated two-syllable pseudonym like CatPuke, ManJam, or, heaven forbid, Longhorn.

We've had to narrow our focus, though. Originally, our investigation included parents, teachers and other community stakeholders, but due to time contraints and other limiting circumstances, we're just going to look at recent high school graduates. It's all good, less work to do.

Also due soon is my quantum physics computational lab project. It's a total bugger. We're meant to be modelling hydrogen-like atoms as electric potential wells, but after four hours of lab time over the last couple of weeks, we've only written six lines of code that don't even work.

Organic chemistry labs start tomorrow. Great. For four hours, I'll be stuck up on Level 5 of the School of Chemistry preparing aryl halides and/or tris(ethylenediamine)nickelate(II) chloride metal complexes. Fun times lay ahead. Erm, yeah.


Listening to:
Title: Dreamworld
Artist: Midnight Oil
Album/station: Diesel and Dust (1988)
Length: 3.36

Science for the mindless and the mindful.

You know, I never thought I'd see science debased in such a manner for the sole purpose of entertainment. Tonight, I watched Brainiac, which screens on Tuesday nights at eight-thirty on the Ten Network. "The show which sticks its fingers down the throat of science", the host claims. He also constantly alluded to some sort of scientific validity to the show throughout the program. And mind you, not only does the show stick its fingers down science's throat, Brainiac chases science down a dark laneway and rifles though her purse, only to steal a stick chewing gum instead of going for gold.

Among the 'experiments' they perform are several "will it float?" jobs, an attempt to cook an egg with the radiation from a hundred mobile phones, throwing a TV out of a van while wrapped in various packaging materials and the mindless dropping of a caravan onto a stereo playing Twisted Sister's You Can't Stop Rock And Roll. I have no idea how that last experiment even rated as vaguley scientific. I suppose that the hypothesis was that a falling caravan will ultimately stop rock and roll. The only real scientific justification came when the pommy host explained that the caravan would fall twenty metres at a rate of ten metres per second per second due to the Earth's gravitational potential energy (it's closer to 9.8 metres per second per second, but I'll let that slide).

Explosions featured prominently too. One segment involved reacting alkali metals with water, which is always fun to watch. But then the whole show was wrapped up at the Big Bang House, where busty lasses blow shit up. Tonight's episode featured an outhouse being obliterated by det cord. Classy.

That said, it was pretty entertaining. A nice change from thinky science that some have to deal with from one day to another. Hmm, snobbery abounds, methinks.

In other science news, a pair of Western Australians won the Nobel prize.


Listening to:
Title: Ban The Tube Top
Artist: Reel Big Fish
Album/station: Cheer Up (2002)
Length: 3.10

Further musings: Labour Day Monday.

I'm back at Dad's place after a long weekend of shenanigans at Mum's. Of course, no one had yet done the groceries this week so the cupboards were bare. What to do. For some reason I had this sudden craving for baked beans on toast and alas, not even a baby tin of the stuff was to be found.

So anyway, I normally buy my weekly Green TravelPass on Mondays. Obviously, seeing as this today is a public holiday, I wouldn't need to. But really, is there any saving made by deferring the purchase until the next morning? The line outside the ticket office tomorrow, being the first morning back from the long weekend, would be horrendous. And knowing me, I'd get to the station just as the train would pull up, leaving me no time to wait in the queue. And I, no less, have an eight AM start at uni (meaning the 7:19 train).

Heeding the words of the CityRail gurus, I walked to the railway station earlier this evening and bought my TravelPass, passing the corner store on the way there. On the walk back, I popped in and perused the shelves and there they were, baked beans. In tins of various sizes. Sweet. I took one and waltzed to the counter. No need to be greedy. I soon found myself passing the ice cream cabinet and I decided that I also had a craving for a Golden Gaytime too. Heh, Gaytime.

I sidled up to the lady at the counter and dug into my pocket - my hip pocket, full of heavy, heavy coinage.

"That's a lot of loose change you have there", said the corner-shop lady.

She went on to mention something about people paying with big notes and how she had next to no small change left. Evidently, in a round about way she was asking to swap some, and I wasn't against the idea. It was great to lose all those coins. I hate coins. Well, carrying them around at least. That chinky noise they make is pretty cool, though.


Oh, and the beach last Friday: it was good. The weather was nice and warm, but the water was freezing. A little kid yelled out, "I pooed in the ocean". Hmm, I only hope the tide washed it out to the sea, it being a harbour beach and all. We ended up missing the last ferry out because for some reason, the ferries stop running to Watsons Bay at about four in the afternoon. Instead we got the bus that took us back to the city in a round about way via Bondi, but that wasn't so bad. A whole bunch of hot surfie lads got on at Bondi Beach and stayed on until the Junction. Mmm. Taut and tanned. Boardies and barefoot. Drool.


Listening to:
Title: Eternal Flame
Artist: The Bangles
Album/station: Everything (1988)
Length: 3.42

Sunday night musings.

While the NRL Grand Final graces the TV screens in my household, let me just say that I have nothing but contempt for rugby league. Apart from their tight jerseys and short shorts, they really don't have much going for them in my books. There's just so much missing from the game. Well, the stuff that counts, at least. The scrums look silly and this dummy-half business is just rubbish. And to make up for it, they count the tackles and turn the ball over after the sixth. And their jerseys aren't even dirty at the end of it all!

So yes, I had a bit of a quiet last night last night. I was a little bummed out about the result of yesterday's Woodies-Uni Grand Final and didn't feel like going out all that much. You know, not that I take it all that seriously or anything. Bah, I hate getting so emotionally involved in these things. Anyway, there wasn't anything in the fridge so we went down to the high street for dinner instead.

On the way, I met this dog when we crossed the railway tracks. He was this cute little blond thing (I'm assuming it's a he). His tail was wagging and just generally looked happy. That's what I like about dogs. Cats are aloof and I get the feeling that they all, in general, don't like me. Dogs, though, they might be simple creatures, but they have this amazing attitude, an attitude that I wish I had - always tail-waggingly happy and easily excitable. And that's another thing, people should have tails. Like that Sony ad. But I digress.

The poor dog fell in between the boards at the level crossing and let out this little yelp. I asked him if he was okay. Oh dear, I'm talking to strange dogs now. Bah. Anyway, he regained his footing and wagged his tail some more before watching us cross and trotting off into the dark.

Dinner was good. Nothing too sophisticated, just roast chicken and chips. A lot can go wrong with roast chicken and chips though, but this was pretty alright.


Listening to:
Title: Car Crash
Artist: Eskimo Joe
Album/station: From The Sea (2004)
Length: 3.48

Uni boys win the premiership over my Woodies.

Sydney University, 41.
Eastwood, 5.
Aussie Stadium, Moore Park.

The Woodies were absolutely plastered. They put in a fine effort, but it wasn't enough. I'm still proud of them, though.

The season was good. Woodies came equal second on the competition ladder and made it to the grand final, so it's all good. And the odds were stacked against them: of the three Woods-Uni games this season, Uni won two.

Next year, though. Next year the Wooodies will be in the finals, like ever other year since I can remember. And they just might win the Cup.


Listening to:
Title: Boys Don't Cry
Artist: The Cure
Album/station: Greatest Hits (2003)
Length: 2.41