I've graduated from my undergrad! :D

Semester/Session Course Course Title Grade

Sem 2 2008 HUSO1213 Organisational Studies CR
Sem 2 2008 HWSS2095 Young People and Health DI
Sem 2 2008 HWSS2136 Ethnography and Young People DI
Sem 2 2008 HWSS2142 Youth Studies & Social Action DI

Sem 1 2008 HWSS2078 Youth Policy HD
Sem 1 2008 HWSS2141 Legal&Justice Issues for Youth HD
Sem 1 2008 HUSO1176 Sex, gender, family CR
Sem 1 2008 HWSS2143 Field Education (Youth Work) 2 HD

Sem 2 2007 HUSO2165 Social Research: Qualitative CR
Sem 2 2007 HWSS2133 Models of Prac & Sites of Inte HD
Sem 2 2007 HWSS2134 Youth Work Skill Sets DI
Sem 2 2007 HWSS2135 Field Education (Youth Work) 1 HD

Sem 1 2007 HWSS2131 YW Ethics & Professionalism PA
Sem 1 2007 HWSS2132 What is Youth Work? CR
Sem 1 2007 HWSS2140 YW and the Schooling System HD
Sem 1 2007 HWSS2139 Risk Management & Young People DI

Sem 2 2006 HUSO2163 Economics for Social Sciences CR
Sem 2 2006 HUSO2162 Social History of Ideas CR
Sem 2 2006 HUSO2164 Social Construction of Self HD
Sem 2 2006 HWSS2130 Mapping the Youth Sector HD

Sem 1 2006 POLI1025 Contemp Australian Politics PA
Sem 1 2006 HUSO1207 Modern Australian Society CR
Sem 1 2006 ENVI1153 Sustainability: Society & Envi CR
Sem 1 2006 HWSS2129 Knowing Young People DI


And there you have it. I've applied for Honours, hopefully I'm good enough to get in, if not, i'll hit the job hunting track and try again in the future! :D

One million bottles of beer on the wall.... (you know the rest!)

In what can only be described as pure beauty, the Tibetan monks decided to create a building made solely of glass beer bottles, as shown in greenUPGRADER (link)

It's actually really quite beautiful, and what's even more interesting is that they had it made at no cost whatsoever.

The thing which rings in my head however is that in a sense, doesn't the building create a purpose for drinking then? It also raised another question in my mind which was that there should be a push towards using glass bottles for EVERY drink bottle (sure, this sounds ridiculous, but think about it logistically, sand + fire = glass).

There is a dying art of Glass-blowers, I met one who was absolutely fantastic in Canada last year. More glass use would mean that there would be a push towards people possibly appreciating glass more, and using it as an artistic form.

Also, think about the benefits there are from using glass compared to using plastic. Sure, both are recyclable, but glass is a better process to use. The argument of manufacturing the glass can (and often is) brought up, but lets be honest here, Glass needs high temperatures to be formed and then processed during the cool down period, this either means a bloody hot fire, or use of electricity, to melt the sand particles into a liquid state which then cools to form a solid (duh).

The fire would mean cutting down trees, which we can't have, and the electricity currently would mean using an unsustainable method which includes using a beautiful thing called coal. What if solar panels were used instead to power the engines which melt the sand into glass? It would be the most sustainable method of manufacturing glass, and it would be creating an environmental cycle, where nature works with nature to create a product which is able to be recycled repetitively throughout time.

Still, the monks did make quite a lovely temple.

:)

Plus1

There comes that time,
the development of a +1,
Not a life extension,
but a life addition.

It's a thing of joy,
beauty,
and wealth.

But does it symbolise the same for others,
the ones who've been sheltered from this form of affection,
This form of love and connectedness,
the ones who've never experienced anything similar.

The ones who have always hurt,
cried,
longed.

They never mean to cause harm,
their happiness causes blindness to everyone outside of the unique bond,
A bond that is strong,
A bond that is lasting.

A bond which can lock out others,
the alone,
without their own +1.

THUD!

Puppets.

always being told what to do.
Put your arms this way.
Put your legs the other.

Don't forget to jingle the bell.

One day the silver scissors came and cut the commanding strings attached.

THUD!

What do do.
What to say.
Is it time to go the other way?

Will the bell jingle, ring or chime?

How does one get back to the previous life?

Not my world

This isn't where I wanted to be,
I'm lost running around,
Attempting to be free.

Flying,
Tumbling,
Unstoppable.

Crash.

Where am I going.

This is not my world.

22.8.08

I Like Monkeys

I like monkeys.

The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought that
odd since they were normally a couple thousand each. I decided not to
look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys.

I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His
name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really
bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed.
Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.

I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new
environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at
high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the
spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.

Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive:
they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead.
Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn
cheap monkeys.

I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my
room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked
like I had 200 throw rugs.

I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.

I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for
a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real
bad.

I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want
to call the plumber. I was embarrassed.

I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately
there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time so I had to change
them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so
it didn't all go bad.

I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to
extinguish the fire.

Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in
my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The odor
wasn't improving.

I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the
bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt better.

I tried throwing them way but the garbage man said that the city wasn't
allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet
one. He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about the
frozen ones.

I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My
friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended that they like
them but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in
the genitals.

I like monkeys