Good afternoon on this fine Christmas Eve, comrades.

Here’s a thought that seems to be appropriate to share on Christmas Eve.

Why do people bother going through the painstaking process of choosing and buying presents for people, with a roughly 90% chance that he/she won’t like it?

Why can’t people just give some money as a present, and the recipient can go and choose and buy something he’ll actually like?

I find it idiotic that, for the sake of “tradition”, people are willing to fight through swarms of fellow shoppers and significant amounts of time hunting for Christmas “bargains”, only to have whatever shitty present they buy promptly forgotten forever by the recipient. Is it not blatantly obvious that the most logical way to do Christmas giving is by handing over a few notes so he/she can buy something they’ll definitely like? Stop wasting effort in vainly hunting for “perfect” presents, in the process funding big corporations and companies and giving those filthy rich Capitalists a much unneeded boost. Go spend your time on something more productive and of more value to this world.

“But wait, you dirty communist!” you might say. “What about the excitement of opening up an unknown present! Stop trying to take away an important Christmas tradition!”

Well, quite frankly, no matter the excitement and suspense associated with presents, a gift from someone else will never suit your wants and needs as much as if you go out and buy it yourself. And I couldn’t care less about “tradition”, in this day and age what we need is practicality and logical thinking to solve problems that plague society. So what if giving money doesn’t look as good as giving a box wrapped up in colourful paper. It’s the practical solution. Getting rid of the silly, imagined importance of wrapped up presents will help solve the stress and often chaos associated with Christmas shopping. I mean, people have been killed in Christmas shopping-related stampedes. It is really worth it for 40% off some overpriced product (despite the fact that, even with the 40% discount, it’s still overpriced)?

Then you might argue that, with everyone giving each other money, it would be even more silly, with people being able to see clearly exactly how much they’ve profited or lost. Well I personally wouldn’t mind seeing an annual period of spreading the wealth, but I admit that this idea is somewhat unfeasible.

So you know what? Let’s just cut out this costly ritual of spending large amounts of money on each other’s wants (not needs), and actually give to people who need it! Let’s make Christmas a giant charity-fest, an annual event where, along with traditional Christmas celebrations, people bond together and donate large amounts of funds to charities, giving to the less fortunate poverty-stricken people both at home and abroad in poor areas, and helping supply for their basic needs to survive, instead of running around wondering what new flashy gadget we can add to our collection. For the religious ones out there, I’m sure your Jesus would be pleased with such a combined action to help the needy every year, much more so than making the rich even richer. For the non-religious, well, such a charity-fest would simply be a highly productive, conscience-nurturing and fulfilling thing to take part in – much better than spending hours hunting for meaningless products, only to never see them in use again after giving them away.

Modern Christmas is a Capitalist lie. How did we turn a time for reflecting on the goodness of humanity into a money-grubbing Capitalist’s wet dream? Maybe it’s time we saw through the hugely unnecessary amounts of the trivial, commercial aspects of today’s Christmas and get back to the positive and spiritual meaning behind it. We should take a look at the bigger picture and make use of Christmas, a time when good nature and generosity are at a high, to get something useful and necessary done in this problematic world.

– Ruob.


Dear Readers,

I know that I have not posted for quite some time, and I apologize.  I recently undertook a week long leadership course with one of Australia’s premier youth leadership organizations, which involved a week staying at not the arse end of the Earth, but pretty close to it.  I spent this week with some of our other contributors, and we all had differing experiences over the course.  If you look back to my last post or two, you will notice that I am rather cynical about the level of intelligence in the youth of the world, and Australia in particular. One thing I find is that the persecution of the intelligent seems to lessen in an environment such as the one I have spent my last week in.  People who are intelligent are respected for their abilities, their help is sought for problems, and their offerings of help are welcomed.  This is the attitude we should be looking to cultivate in ourselves.  Not quite a celebration, but rather an acceptance of the intelligencia, and perhaps, God forbid, respect that someone may know more than you on a particular subject.

So, people of the Interwebs, my message to you:

Next time that nerdy kid sticks his hand up in the front, or that workmate who has no life gets that pay rise, stop and think…. “Why don’t I know the answer?” “Why him not me?”

Here’s the answer:

“Switch on, the world respects intelligence and dedication to work, even if you don’t.”

Teen drinking is very bad. I got a fake ID though.

(I no longer need a fake ID. My ID is sufficient.)

For most of this year I abstained from the booze, this was due to an incredibly embarrassing occurrence that is not going to be mentioned, not even on this blog, and I had no wish to repeat this. Not drinking is less fun than drinking. I know, I’ve seen both sides of the tracks. I have a inbuilt need to care for people, and when they’re drunk, and lacking in judgement, this makes for a not fun night. On the other hand, you can get drunk and let other people worry about you. This is more fun. It’s better fun when everyone is drunk, but that can lead to date rape etc. My solution to this is to just drink in a safe (home) environment, as a) the alcohol is cheaper than at a bar, and b) everyone can get drunk!

Just ensure there are no balconies to fall off, no roofs to climb on, and that no one gets drunk enough to pass out and choke on their own vomit.

Death is bad. Quite like teen drinking.

Don’t Die.

After raiding through my closet for hours on end, I have discovered that clothes are useless. Sure, they keep us warm. Sure, they help us protect our modesty. But all in all, too much time is wasted on picking and choosing and ‘mixing & matching’ and other such lame yet catchy names given to the art of covering oneself.

Getting lost in my wardrobe between piles of odd socks, old underwear (‘old’ as in the ‘too small to fit’ kind-of-old, not of the ‘3 months passed after use without washing’ kind), broken yoga mats, and statues of naked women is what I experience everytime I’m trying to look for some unsoiled pants. For some reason, my family thinks that my closet is also the perfect place to use for dumping everyone’s unwanted shit.

So anyway, uh… Where was I? Right, back to my point… WHO LIKES SHORT SHORTS?? Wait… No… CLOTHES WERE BIRTHED FROM THE LOINS OF SATAN! Yes, I think that’s it. So anyway, all these people are making money from the fashion industry and they’re feeding us a whole lot of mumbo jumbo fizzle shizzle and we can’t help but be influenced by their products. Take Boho for example. (No, that is not a typo of Bono’s name), its pretty much, in my opinion, anything to do with hippies, hysterical gypsies, flowers,and tying fabric to your forehead. For guys, its all about the hair and probably a pair of designer sunglasses with some kind of fad initials on them like ‘CK’, ‘CC’, ‘LV’ or ‘SUPRE’. Clothes these days are only really ‘cool’ if they’re endorsed by someone with a name like ‘”Miley” Destiny Hope Cyrus’ or ‘Peaches Honeyblossom Michelle Charlotte Angel Vanessa Drummey Geldof’.

For your pleasure, I have included:

Some entertaining things to do whilst nude:
1. Run around the house while your family is away shopping/holidaying/gardening/sleeping
2. Experience a nice breeze
4. Frolic though a meadow
5. Make a phone call (They’ll never know…)
6. Pee in the shower (It’s a basic human right)

And some things which you shouldn’t do whilst nude:
1. Deep frying
2. Picking up your kids
3. Jumping / climbing fences
4. Rolling down hills
5. Visiting your grandparents
6. Operating heavy machinery (ie. Lawn mower / clippers)

Note: I am not saying that everyone should become a nudist (as I myself have no intention to do so), but I am suggesting however, that everyone should THINK like a nudist. Because, let’s face it, life is a lot more fun without clothes.

PostSecret is my favourite website in the entire world. The principle is that you write your secret on a postcard sized postcard, but it has to be a real secret that nobody knows. The majority of people decorate them, and so they end up being mini-works of art that release people from their demons. It’s annoying because they don’t keep archives, they publish books instead.

Every time I read PostSecret (every Sunday, when they update the site) I think to myself a) how much I empathise with the secret and b) what my secret is.

Don’t get me wrong, a lot of my really close friends know little about my inner thoughts and feelings, but over the last few years, I have bared all to a few people. You may think this is my attempt to bare all to the world, don’t get me wrong, I feel that it’s fine for people to do that, but if the majority of my best friends in the whole entire world have no idea, I’m not going to let people who I barely know into my confidence.
caitlyn is the coolest
To me, I sometimes feel like the facade I present to the world is entirely contrary to the thoughts and feelings running through my head. Sometimes it escapes, but people like to believe that you’re making a joke, and yes, I too use sarcasm to hide how ridiculously vulnerable I am.

Sometimes the times I speak in jest, are the times I reveal the most about myself, but no one believes it. People are relentlessly optimistic, and refuse to believe the worst.

Those of you who actually know me shouldn’t start reading into my sarcasm and jokes, because there is a good mix of truth and lies, so you know, I’ve got myself covered.

On another note, I achieved my SWOTVAC/exam period goal of learning all the words to We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel.

Party Town.

No, actually, scrap that title, it was just that I had no idea what I was going to write today, because everyday is obviously very different from the last. For example, I woke up this morning and my alarm clock beeped in its usual exact nine minute intervals (I have no idea why; perhaps the manufacturers in Taiwan will only allow me 8 minutes and 59 seconds more sleep just to piss me off) whereas yesterday, I was woken by my neighbour calling for her cat. Seriously, I have no freaking idea what is UP with this woman and her cat. It doesn’t even have a name, she just refers to it as ‘pussy’. And believe me, I struggle to get to sleep at night when, at 1 in the morning, a woman is outside yelling ‘PUSSY!! PUSSY!! PUSSY WHERE ARE YOU? COME TO MAMA!’ and she should probably just ask the gardener. The conversation would probably go something along the lines of:

Crazy Cat-Lady: Have you seen my pussy?

Gardener: Why yes, I think its over there in the bushes.

Okay, sorry, maybe that last part was purely fictional, but you get my drift. Anyway, from what I have told you so far about my life, you are probably now aware that I do not delve very deep into important issues concerning the world (and that I’m probably just another horny teenager posting blogs about cats). Ah but you are wrong. Let me show you, with another example. You see, a couple weeks back, I was having a jolly old time with my friends on a bench along humble Collins Street in the city, we were watching people pass, innocently licking our ice creams and drinking our 7-11slurpees, when suddenly between brainfreezes, I notice… OH EM GEE!!! Someone’s just dropped a $10 note! No one else has seen… I run up to it… Heart pounding, I grab the blue note between my sticky ice cream hands, and you what I do? I put it in my pocket and save it for a rainy day. NO!! You know what I REALLY do? I’ll tell you what! I chase that man down Collins street until that note is safely returned to the cosy confines of the strangers wallet. See? I can be deep. And caring. And i like to think that, in one way or the other, I’m helping to ease the Global Financial Crisis. Yes indeed. You know what else I did that day? I helped my friend win a free slurpee by peeling off the tag on her cup. That’s right. Me. Saving the world, one free slurpee at a time.

Until tomorrow, I shall leave you with a quote:
“Smoking kills. If you’re killed, you’ve lost a very important part of your life.” -Brooke Shields, Actress.


So I should be studying for my imminent exams, that are the pinnacle of my schooling life, but I really can’t be bothered, right now.

There’s something that I always wonder, why do we take photographs, write diaries, and film our lives?

When we’re gone, no one really cares.

I’ve been keeping a (sort of) diary since year 8. I now have 5, but I don’t want anyone else to read my thoughts and feelings of those defining years. Even if I have children, I don’t want to scar them with that, and after they’re dead, their children won’t know me, and no one else will care.

Photographs are the same. We take so many photos, with the digital age and all, but who will care to see the day that Jimmy took his first step, after his children are dead and gone.

What if he never had children? No one will care. We’re all so attached to the physical mementos in our lives, that we forget to live in the now.

Yes, it’s good to be able to look at photos from both my mum’s and dad’s past, but compared to the thousands of photos that i’ve taken over my short life, they have barely any at all, and that’s enough.

My dad has about 5 photos from his childhood, it doesn’t make him a lesser person.

I have about one and a half thousand. Probably more, if you include the photos that aren’t in photo albums, and the ones that my grandparents have taken.

I’m ashamed that I’m such a consumerist.

I never used to be.

Next Page »