TECHNOLOGICALLY RANTIN'

Technology has come a long way since the stone-wheel carved by Fred Flintstone. For instance toilet paper is the new elm leaf; telephones are the improved ‘can and string’; twitter is the lazy man’s guide to stalking; and online porn is the modern brothel. Furthermore Japan has always lead the way in technology by unnecessarily inventing articles such as square watermelons, break-dancing robots, and talking toilet seats that warm your ass. So as you can see, the application of practical or mechanical sciences to industry and commerce has caused technology to come in many forms.

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However I have to pose the question; is technology slowly causing mankind to progress or regress? Slowly but surely I believe we are regressing. Oh, yes, it’s true – we are beginning to have less need for brains so our brains are shrinking. Not all brains, just most people’s brains – it’s an inevitable part of progress. If no object, tool or device is safe from constant ‘technological improvement’, then what is stopping man from adapting them into a robotic status? Eventually causing robotic technology to be the only one’s progressing.

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Okay, so my psychologist tells me that I’m sounding a little apocalyptic and hypocritical for using the computer’s spell-check to correct ‘psychologist’. Nevertheless as I’m covering the topic of technology it seems crucial to state the universal frustration held towards it. So in the spirit of good-ranting, I’ve compiled a list of personal dislikes towards a few of the most relied upon pieces of technology.

1. THE MOBILE PHONE
Since its arrival, the mobile phone has been a technological phenomenon spawning thousands of satellites and service-providers everywhere. It almost seems impossible to imagine a world without your girlfriend, wife, mum or tax-collector being able to ring and nag you just about anywhere. Furthermore it also birthed the process of deciphering cryptic text messages which often make less sense than Native American smoke signals. However it isn’t long before you start penning your university papers in the style of a text message – ‘chrls dickns 1st rote gr8 xpctatins on da accnt of his lng battl with socil stndrds...’ Finally I can’t disregard my deep dislike for those who publicly take a call over their mobile earpiece. Quite often I’m misled into a conversation by believing that some passer-by has addressed me with a ‘hello’.

2. THE AUTOMOBILE
Since Henry Ford first unveiled the motor car, there has never been a day without designing an improved version of the automobile. It seems we have cars for all types of people and landscapes – the 4wheel drive, the beach buggy, the golf buggy and even the moon buggy. Evidently motoring engineers weren’t an imaginative bunch as the overused ‘buggy’ could only be replaced with the title of any ferocious animal – Jaguar, Falcon, Stallion or Spider. Furthermore the automobile has birthed millions of industries and jobs along with billions of litres of greenhouse gas emissions and overweight one-occupant minivan drivers. Truthfully it isn’t the automobile that annoys me but rather the automotive technology that has spawned from it such as speed cameras, GPS systems, traffic lights and cup holders.

3. THE COMPUTER AND THE INTERNET
It is undeniable that the computer and internet has benefitted mankind by enabling easier access to all sorts of information. Most importantly it eradicated the ‘dog ate my homework’ excuse as we’re now able to blame the e-mailing system for not sending our assignments. Additionally it has revolutionized the meaning of select words in the English dictionary. For instance surfing, one of the most vigorously demanding sports is used to describe the action of website-hopping. Suddenly the overweight truck driver browsing through pages of pornographic material and the latest online Power Puff Girls comic has mastered the art of surfing. However it isn’t impudent to suggest that everyone has once wanted to disconnect their computer and drop it into the local river. This can often be due to multiple losses on solitaire and other stressful situations that arise from using the computer. One of those situations would be the bombardment of pop-ups which ironically promote pop-up and virus protection software. Alternatively it could just be the confusing appearance of your desktop that causes you to lose your cool – why do we press the start button to finish?

Technology has benefited and revolutionized mankind upon so many scales. Unless you’re some pagan dancing naked in the woods and playing a pan flute, then everything you do is assisted by technology – seriously. Whether you’re preparing food or even going to do a number two, there will be some form of technological equipment, device or article involved. However the more it advances then so does man’s frustration with the objects they are forced to use. Ask yourself this – did Fred Flintstone’s foot-propelled car ever break down? Or did the Ancient Greek’s sand timer ever run out of battery? I think not.

INTERVIEW WITH A WHOLE LOTTA' MEERKAT

The questions that should be simple are always the hardest. I can outline the key points to the treaty of Versailles, understand each of Sophocles three Theban plays, and even provide a visual analysis of any work of art. But I always struggle to answer the questions that concern me.

I’d been handed a list of unseen questions that I’ll be asked in my university interview. Basically the university is asking - who the fuck are you? And why in Newton’s name should we fertilize your dustbowl brain? It’s all typed in a less aggressive tone with a false-friendly comic sans font. At this point of nervousness, I’d rather attempt writing an essay that proves Albert Einstein’s theories wrong.

Eventually I’m called forth for my interview. And it doesn’t take long before the interviewer fires her questions. I try to think of less nerve-racking thoughts but only images of meerkats keep coming to mind. Did most aspiring writers visualize African animals when they had their first university interview? Somehow I can’t picture Fitzgerald imagining a thought bubble filled with Water Buffalo.

Nevertheless I lost my track of thought twice, shared my thoughts upon teaching and even admitted that I’d punch Shakespeare if I ever met him. And fifteen minutes later, I sealed the deal by shaking hands with my interviewer. It was official, I was going to university. This would become the first step bringing me closer to my dream. I already feel one step closer to releasing a novel.

Unfortunately it also meant that I’d have to read ‘Pride and Prejudice’. You see, I’d promise to read one of Austen’s novels if I got admission into a ‘Bachelor of Arts’. So I’d love to stay and blog but sadly for me, I have a date with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

LOOKING BACK

Having woken earlier than usual, I tried to count sheep but to no avail. Apparently no local farmer was willing to lend several hundred sheep for sleep-inducing purposes. So after dismantling my sheep-hopping gate, I retreated to the lounge and began vigorously channel-surfing. After watching several promotion spots for the Ab-Swing Pro and twelve minutes of Cantonese news, times were becoming desperate. Thankfully I stumbled upon a group of restless philosophers debating the importance of memories. Basically it was like watching ‘The View’ for nerds.

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Nonetheless their philosophical points got me thinking about the significance of memories. Firstly I couldn’t imagine myself without them. They’re a collection of life experiences able to reject the beast of insignificance from my door. Furthermore I would forget crucial information such as not liking vegemite; being heterosexual; or the $10,000 I buried under the garden gnome.

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As they concluded their debate, each philosopher agreed upon childhood experiences as the best remembered memories. While considering the possibility of a ‘Jaws’ remake... I also thought about the egghead’s statement and my earliest memories. And ten minutes later I decided that compiling a list of my most memorable childhood memories would have the makings of a great blog. So without further ado I give you a brief insight into some of my best remembered experiences from childhood:

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1. WINKY AND BOGEY:
Quite often parents will go to any extent to keep their children under control. Some of my earliest memories are the methods my parents used to prevent me from misbehaving. One of those was storytelling about demonic characters like Wee Willy Winky and the Bogey Man. Basically Wee Willy Winky was a witch who collected children awake past nightfall and the Bogey man was someone who lived under the beds of untidy bedrooms. Ultimately my parents were saying go to sleep with a tidy bedroom or DIE!

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^ Google result for Wee Willy Winky. Pretty accurate to last night's nightmare.

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2. I’M LEAVING:
At some point in our childhood, we’ve all threatened our parents with that infamous sentence – “I’M LEAVING!” The reason I remember this event so well is because I packed an entire suitcase filled with all the necessities that six-year old might need – 1 Stretch Armstrong doll, 1 sachet of Sea-Monkey eggs, several odd pieces of clothing, 1 Britannia Encyclopaedia and a piggy-bank filled with multiple 2 pence’s. Strangely I don’t recall the row with my parents that prompted me to leave but I do remember setting up camp in my best-friend’s tree. But it only took tree-sap and some English rain to convince me that life in a tree wasn’t going to work out.

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3. BED WETTER:
An earliest memory from childhood is often one of humiliation or embarrassment. No extra points for guessing the story behind this title. Truthfully I was never a black-belt in the art of bedwetting but my infamous pee incident at age seven would have put Niagara Falls to shame. It even soaked through the top-bunk mattress and dripped on to my brother's bed below. By morning I tried to divert attention to my younger brother as the bed wetter.

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4. THE THING ABOUT SANTA:
You either learn it alone or await the final blow confirming your worst fears. Usually at around age eight or nine you begin to hear the rumours spread throughout the playground. And then comes that smug kid who drops the blasphemous bomb “SANTA ISN’T REAL”. I still remember confronting my parents and hearing the truth about Santa Claus. I was eight years old and I finally met the meeting of disappointment. Firstly I would have to change my career perspectives because if there was no Santa then there would be no elves. Secondly it occurred to me that the Christmas pageant Santa really did smell like brandy and resembled our local bus conductor. And finally I remember feeling relieved by thinking that at least there’s the Easter Bunny.

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5. 7PM = THE SIMPSONS:
Truthfully I don’t know why I remember viewing my first episode of the Simpsons so well. It was 1997 and my Aunt would become the culprit for introducing me to influential catchphrases such as ‘doh’, ‘woo-hoo’ and ‘eat my shorts’. Maybe it was the way Matt Groening’s mesmerizing colours lit up the room (which was a huge achievement as Aunt Claire’s flat is the constant centrepiece of tobacco-smoke clouds). Ultimately it still impresses me that a bunch of yellow-skinned toons could remain imbedded in my mind for all these years.

6. ATTACK OF THE CAPUCHINS:

At nine years of age, my family and I travelled to Woburn Safari Park. Located north of London, the wildlife park allowed the public to drive 5KM/PH through a simulated African and American safari. Unknowingly that day was to become one of the most comical memories of my childhood. After passing a placid pack of wolves and a not-so-grizzly bear, we soon reached the entrance of the Capuchin enclosure. And for those that haven’t seen ‘Night at the Museum’, a capuchin is a small monkey found in the South Americas. Nevertheless Dad stopped at the viewing point for our designated two minutes of observation. However none of us expected a vast army of Capuchin’s to attack our car. Basically we had to await staff assistance as multiple Capuchins broke Dad’s window wipers, chewed a lump out of his spoiler and bent his number plate. Clearly Capuchin’s aren’t a fan of Volvo.

7. DAWN OF THE 64:
From Atari to Sega, games consoles were the latest market offering millions to be made (unless you invested in Dreamcast which flopped completely). It seemed that without understanding what L1 meant or who crash-bandicoot was, then you just weren’t cool. So being uncool to begin with, life in the playground got more difficult. However another gameless year passed and even Dad seemed to feel deprived of these latest Japanese gaming consoles. So through an act of spontaneous expenditure, Dad surprised the family by returning home with brand spanking new NINTENDO 64! It was a tear-jerking moment.

8. UPGRADE:
Only a child of the early 21st century could remember his first transition from a McDonalds happy meal to a regular size adult’s burger. Again I really don’t know why I’ve managed to remember this grease-coated memory so well. Maybe it’s because that was the first time I missed out on a happy meal toy. I guess the burger didn’t taste as good without my free Furby key ring.

9. ‘GOTTA CATCH THEM ALL’:

Pokémon - the Japanese franchise that every child of the 90’s suffered, endured or embraced. By 2000, there wasn’t a Pokémon and its power that I couldn’t recite. It was a fad that became a string of memories rather than just one. Between my brother and me there wasn’t a single item in our bedroom that hadn’t been pokemonized. The only thing we didn’t possess was Japanese eyes and a real-life Pikachu.

Well if that’s not a blog worth more than three comments then I don’t know what is...Well, I do really... but I haven't set up any explicit content signs. All the best. Blog on.

GRANDPARENTS & STRAVINSKY

"It’s one of nature’s way that we often feel closer to distant generations than to the generation immediately preceding us" - Igor Stravinsky

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Although Stravinsky was contrasting modernist techniques to his classical predecessors, this quote can clearly define the common bond shared between a grandparent and grandchild. I often use it to describe the relationship I once shared with my Grandmother (pictured right*).

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I guess grandparents are the supporting evidence that genes skip generations because they find their grandchildren so likeable.

*And yes, I am wearing a knitted Paddington Bear jumper (again, pictured right).

TAKEN FROM JOURNAL: 21. 06. 09

ITZAMAZING!

Twenty-six letters gives me the choice of over a billion words to use from the English language. But only helpless words like ‘Kathmandu’, ‘heebie-jeebies’ or ‘miscellaneous’ keep popping to mind. It’s almost worse than my high school human biology exam when I could only think of the words - ‘femur’, ‘rectum’ and ‘endoplasmic reticulum’. Try and say that last one backwards.

Anyway enough about endoplasmic-reticulum, it’s time I announce the arrival of my most AMAZING blog to date. Basically it’s the same as all my other blogs but slightly shorter and I’ve typed ‘amazing’ in caps. So without further ado I give you this month’s first blog; the most AMAZING thing you’ll find since the electric toothbrush.

Firstly you’re probably wondering where I’ve been this past month of missing blog entries. No? Well, I’m going to tell you anyway. I wish I could say that I’ve been sneaking iPods into Tibetan temples for Gaga-craving monks; but my life isn’t like that. Truthfully I’ve been living the lifestyle of your average Joe and encountering exciting revelations. And one of those revelations happens to be e-bay.

But Scott, what exactly is this e-bay? Well, I’m glad you asked. E-bay (‘E’ standing for enormous) is an online marketplace designed for selling and buying items such as Korean warheads; potato-chips shaped like Jesus; a one-night stand with Paris Hilton; or genetically modified pets like the Liger. E-bay was also mentioned by those rogue washing-machines (probably designed by Samsung) in Transformers. Additionally e-bay has revolutionized the way of business and financial opportunities available to man. For instance, someday I wish to e-bay all my body-parts and become the richest toe in the world.

Another recent revelation would have to be the love/hate relationship gained from running. In an attempt to make myself feel mentally and physically healthier, I’ve undertaken a precise running schedule. Basically I run from 6:00AM until 6:45. So as you can see, it’s a very complex program with no room for flexibility. Nonetheless it hasn’t been easy. For instance, Friday morning saw my iPod run out of battery and one week earlier some beach sand got trapped in my shoes. However I have prevailed and I’m pretty sure there’s a future with Nike on the horizon.

Aside from e-bay-ing, running and stalking my hot neighbour, there’s also been a lot of lot of global issues happening throughout my blogosphere absence. It seems topics such as swine flu; swine flu; swine flu; the Belgian tattoo fiasco; and more swine flu are all that dominate the newspapers these days. Truthfully I don’t see what the big deal is. If a pig bit me then I would consider myself to have superpowers. Furthermore who is this WHO? The Naked-News TV reporter keeps discussing the WHO’s response or plan of action. They sound like a gang of superheroes ready to take on the Watchmen.

Okay that’s enough blogging today. I feel like Marshmallows. Over and out.

SURVIVOR: SUBURBIA

So it started off like any ordinary day - a bowl of cheerios and cup of tea, a televised update on today's world crises and a generous sprinkle of fish flakes to the goldies. I watched the prime minister promise another river without a bridge and listened to the forecast of more unseasonal weather. By 8:45AM it seemed appropriate to avoid watching any more breakfast shows and begin my ‘day-off’ by taking out the trash.

Unknowingly I would be spending the next eight hours hostage to the noises of my suburban backyard. You see, as I took five paces towards our overflowing bin (flies included), a draft slammed the door closed. And I was less than surprised to see that Dad’s latest DIY venture (that being this newly-installed door) had self-locked itself. Some days I believe my father descended from the architect who designed Pisa’s leaning tower. Think I’m dramatic? Then please feel free to use our recently repaired toilet that reverse-flushed, or purchase the guaranteed bird-freeing cage (still on eBay) or why not make toast with our resurrected toaster that breathes fire. Yeah, that’s what I thought.

So I had no key of my own, my security-conscious mother had locked every possible entrance (that’s what living in North London until the age of thirty can do to you), no mobile phone and the parentals were both at work under unreachable circumstances. I knew that I was about to endure eight hours plagued with boredom. But I wouldn’t crack. Not me.

FIVE HOURS PASS (1:45PM): Fifty-one cloud counts later and survival mode had kicked in. For the past five hours I had taken every precaution to avoid perishing alongside the final resting place of ‘Tigger’ – the family cat. Priority one was to find a water hole suitable for drinking and I can gladly say mission accomplished. There was a workable tap untouched by Dad’s DIY ventures. The water tasted metallic and had a slight essence of grasshopper to it, but it’s a risk I was willing to take.

Another several clouds pass (one shaped like a delicious fluffy burger) and this unseasonal heat had taken its toll. I took refuge under the backyard pagoda with my collection of limes that I reaped from the land. The cicada’s chirped and a next-door conversation concerning Jennifer Anniston had been struck by Linda.

ANOTHER TWO HOURS PASS (3:45PM): Another two hours later and my reasoning had clearly gone missing in action. I had sucked dry all the limes I could find and I wasn’t prepared to give the trash a go. Not yet anyway. So I attempted various plans to break and enter my own home. Plan one involved putting a fishing rod through the cat-flap, plan seven involved finding loose roof tiles, plan fifteen incorporated a magnet and plan twenty-one was based upon a design that Tom had once drawn to capture Jerry. It was plan thirty-one (trying to Dr. Doolittle my way into the house by telling the pet dog to bring me the keys) that I realized I would have to endure the last remaining hours before the parentals got home.

And here ends our true story of survival. I braved the treacherous environment, withstood the sweltering heat, endured Linda’s mind-numbing conversation and even transformed a volley-ball into my very own ‘Wilson’. If that’s not survival then I don’t know what is.

TALKIN' AT EDDY'S

Fast Eddy's Cafe - the mealtime pit stop of every drunkard in Perth. The toilets will testify. Its interior design is an overdone attempt to mimic 1930's New York. Abandoned antiques and reproduced poster-prints are the final attempt to enhance this bygone theme. However the outside hum of city traffic and radio replays of 'U2' is a constant reminder of the times. These clear disparities provide no expectations of an Al Capone shoot-out.

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HP sauce, salt, pepper and two un-bottled Heinekens sat between Ryan and I. Checking ID seems to be the least of Fast Eddy's concerns. We listened to the immortal drone of city movement and talked of many things - childhood memories, parental annoyances, our 'Christopher McCandless' travelling aspirations and even personal well-being. That Fast Eddy's conversation covered a lot of deep-thinking and respectful-listening.

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Our facial similarities always clash with the noticeable difference between our clothing. Biting into my burger I considered the laughable possibilities of this picture. Ray bans and Ben Sherman meet Nike and Adidas. I guess that only the observant diner would notice such things.

(JOURNAL ENTRY - MAY 4 2009)