I liked this article . Probably only of interest to the journalists. It’s about the lack of media reporting on humanitarian disasters, but particularly ‘genocide’.
The international media don’t send reporters to cover genocides, it seems. They cover genocide anniversaries.
I was making brief, passing mention to this in another post. That had more to do with media pushing for intervention in Bosnia (white genocide) while largely ignoring Rwanda (black genocide).
Do we have to change the gatekeepers (editors who decide what prints) if these events are to make it past the cutting floor? If that’s what has to be done, how can we change the gatekeepers? If we can’t change the gatekeepers, then what? How do we get the story out, let the world know what’s going on?
Serious questions. It really does bother me.
So it’s a good thing (post delay) because I’m freaking out about assessments I have to do for next week… and the following week. So spending time doing this is just going to make me freak out more.
I’m procrastinating and writing this in the library at uni….but not anymore!
Hmmm, looking forward to ‘Blues Brothers’ tonight at Peto’s. Good times, good times.
Another day, another dollar. Well, not really. I don’t work.
Went for a quick drive, and I mean a quick drive, up Mt Glorious first thing this morning with my dad in the toy car. That’ll wake you up of a… well, mid-morning. I was allowed to drive it back down the mountain. I’m not sure, but it may be the first time I’ve driven it since that fateful night…oohhhhh 6 years ago now?…. when I was driving it to a party, as you do when hoping your dad’s sweet ride is going to make you ‘cool’.
So I’m in the Westfield (pictured zipster), friend in his dad’s Mercury Cougar (American beast) and we’re travelling in a sedate fashion, observing and adhering to all applicable road rules, when acrid smell and white smoke begin to emanate from beneath the dash. Long story short, electrical fire was narrowly averted but the wiring harness, from one of the headlights back to the dash, was opened like a pizza sub. The wires inside looking much like melted cheese. Not so cool.
From memory that was the last time I drove the Westfield. I’m not sure, but if it was, it makes for a slightly better story. Although I think it’s lost some of the ‘hey, look at me!’ appeal (or maybe I’ve lost that), it will still be nice to be able to take it out every now and then. Carries a little more punch than the 82 Corolla , that’s for sure. That’s an old and dodgy picture of the Westfield, but you’ll all cope.
Another day comes to an end. Played soccer today. That went well.
Hopefully I’ll stay awake for the whole Liverpool-ManUnited game that starts at midnight.
I’m in the process of procrastinating about several assessments and this blog is testament to that. At this stage I’ve spent a gob of time working on it (and the offshoots you can link to from the left). It’s enjoyable though.
‘Apparently’ she got it from me, although I have no foot dandruff, am not sloughing skin from between my toes and have no horrible odour wafting from my feet, strong and pungent at a distance up to four feet. My friend, on the other hand, does.
Of course, having insisted it was ‘my’ feet from whence this offensive odour had spread, she refused to believe it was not. Finally, after we finished watching some DVD together the other night, throughout which I had mentioned I could, and would rather prefer not to, smell her feet from aforementioned four feet away, she demanded proof she was the culprit. How was this proof to be gained? Why, by having one of the offending feet presented for my smelling, of course!
And so, Milose….sorry. And so, in the dirty murk of the darkened room, late at night as I stood to leave, I bent for an obligatory smell of the proffered foot, convinced already this was one of the two culprits who had assaulted my senses.
And assaulted I was. The darkened room masked my attacker, but as I leaned forward, her violent stench took me by surprise. I stumbled. I tipped. Suddenly two foul toes clawed at my nose while a third tried to push past my upper lip so as to gain entry into my mouth (it was just like in Alien I tell you!). I was nearly overcome, but bravely struggled to my feet, spitting and gagging and screamed, “It IS your bloody feet!!! Agghlleghh! pthah!”
At this point I will admit, I jumped around like… well, like I would if a large huntsman (5-6″ spider for you Americans) had just run up my pants. Then I went and washed my nose and mouth until I bled. No I didn’t. Come to think of it…I didn’t wash my face at all after this traumatic episode. Oh, that’s right, I licked my lips. No, I didn’t do that either… even to think it is wrong, and yet I have. I think I just walked away in shock.
It should come as no surpise that I’ve taken to wearing thongs (flip-flops for you Americans) in the shower. I don’t want the Angel of Foot-Death coming knocking on my door.
Good timing – Liverpool-ManU about to kick off. Cairn the Reds!
We rule. Or rather, the rest of us support Greg, who rules.
The soccer game today was great. We played at 1pm, clear blue sky, hot sun beating down, but a nice breeze. Long story short, we won 4-0, with Greg scoring all four goals.
The opposition should have pegged us back when awarded a penalty late in the second half. Our defender had a good 10 meters of free space around him with no opposition even making an effort to move any closer. So an unintentional hand ball that had no impact on play sent one of their strikers to the spot. He couldn’t hold it together and sent it high, giving us a well-deserved shutout.
Everyone was happy with the team performance. One of the goals before the game had been to play it out wide more often. Play to this point in the season has been characterised by a lot of short passing up the middle and/or through balls to Greg. It’s worked well but Pete wants us to get some more openness to our game. We played with a lot more width today, which should keep us in good stead throughout the season if we keep it up. I think that puts us at … 4-1 (win-loss).
Next week the majority of the team will gather for Greg’s engagement party at 12, only to have to leave soon after to make a 3.00 game at Beenleigh. Should be good. I’ll keep you posted.
My faithful regulars (yes, both of you) will have noticed a complete change in the layout… I was in the process of developing it when the last one got deleted or saved over, so had to rush in the ‘under construction’ one
It will continue to change gradually as I have time, or make time where there isn’t available time, as the case will most likely be.
Got an email from an old friend today… good to hear from you mate. Welcome to my waste of time that is this blog if you come across it.
This blog will make comments on international news and current affairs, with links to news of interest to at least myself, if not any readers who may or may not stumble upon the site.
The blog will, at times when travel is undertaken, include travel related postings, to which Suzanne may at times have input.
anyone reading this far back, the International, then the NEWS blog, is what this is referring to. It doesn’t exist anymore, and has all been reposted here.
Continuing with the $50 parking ticket theme. Somebody stated this sort of thing tends to put a hole in your budget. Well yes, but a hole in the empty hole that is my budget makes a black hole…its accretion disc gradually sucking in everything around it…
In other news, a persistent bug is back.
He (or she) was on my arm about 5 hours ago…i flicked him (or her) off … obviously he (or she) took an unintended flight across my room somewhere….i just found him (or her) again on my shoulder…
A good friend suggested I “sex it”….ummm, no. No I didn’t do biology. That just sounded wrong.
my apologies…trying not to be angry at the world, but not succeeding particularly well at this point.
$50. for a parking ticket. FIFTY dollars! It’s my parking spot damnit. Now I’ve always thought this spot was outside the 2hr limit zone. Whenever I drive to uni, I park there all day…no worries. Until today… Have they extended the zone? Was my spot ever outside the zone? Have they just targeted students, hoping they’ll just pay and ask no questions?
Oh there will be questions… make no mistake. (sigh)
In the meantime…I wonder what the point of trying to save money is when *&!#@!… stuff like this happens…. Ugh.. Oh, wait, no please, kick me again, quick, before I get up…oh that was a good ‘un! hahaaaa, Iiiiii LIKE it!!
So, today. It all sort of merges into one when there was just that short nap. Despite the coffee I have just grabbed, I still find myself getting noddy. Nothing quite so interesting happened until about 10.15 this morning.
I’ve just had a week-long Easter holiday. All week I’ve said, “That 200 word French thing I should easily knock out in about two hours, and that journalism court report ….ahhhh… six or seven hours.” Of course, instead of actually doing that in the five days available, I decided, what better way to test my ability to estimate assignment time, than actually leave only that amound of time in which to complete it by deadline.
So long story short, French was done in 90 minutes, just in time to print it out and walk into French class at noon, journalism was saving on disk at 4.50pm… Anyone reading this and noticing time discrepancies should note travel and class time thrown in there as well.
It’s a run to the cheap student print shop. Print, come one come on. Of course, because journalists are the ass-end of the intelligentsia spectrum, they are also at the ass-end of the campus. I shoulder my bag, collect my laptop, watch check: 4.57. Crap. I’m off.
Now running does not come hard for me. It does when you’re thrown off balance by an incredibly heavy laptop which is now not only making you run like you have a broken hip, but also trying to rip off whichever arm happens to be holding it.
Huffing and puffing I reach the top of the hill at, apparently, 5.05pm, just in time to see our evergreen journalism receptionist, Jenny, emptying the assignments out of the drop-off box and commenting to a nearby student, “…even if it’s three minutes late, it’s still late.” [okay, big smile while handing over my paper] “Hi Jenny. :D so, uh, am I late?” [smile back with perfunctory glance at watch] “No, you’re three hours and six minutes late,” she says as she strolls out of sight briefly.
She must have heard my jaw hit the ground, and the plaintive bleatings trying to escape my dumbstruck mouth of bu…wha….hu…I thoug….my head hurts. And just as I prepare to protest the course outline says nothing about 2pm deadline, “And it’s in the course outline!”
damn she’s good. Reappearing behind her glass window she calmly prepares to stamp all the papers ‘received’, while I remain unmoved, wondering what the hell this torture was for, just to hand something in on time for once. she speaks again
“Luckily for you Rhonda has said she’s not going to penalise anyone for submitting after 2pm this time.” why….you….EVIL….evil….EVIL woman!!!!
So anyway, sitting out on the grass to cool down after my run I look through the course outline… no mention of 2pm deadline anywhere. And I thought Jenny was alright….
eyelids droopy, *now* I can sleep.
30 minutes of sleep in the last 40 hours is good. I was falling asleep watching Premier League highlights, but now I’m wide awake again…I guess you wouldn’t call it wide awake…I’m not falling asleep as I type, read or talk to people, so it’s closer to wide awake than the majority of the day.
I crave coffee…I have never crafed coffee before, nor have I craved it.
Soon to follow, post on the adventures of starting two assignments at 3am that were due today. Started late after happily procrastinating by reading Dan Tobin. Okay, I was pissed off at myself for procrastinating, but I was laughing, so I managed to push that conscience out longer than I should have.
The assignments did get in on time…thanks to powers beyond me that managed to keep me semi-lucid, long enough to put together something that might even be acceptable.
I love Poynter (in Media Specific Links over on the left there). I also said I love the Editor liftout section in the Weekend Australian. I love many things. Feel the love.
Why Poynter? Because they’re just what a young journalist needs. Damn the man, student journalists get screwed again. And in Iowa! (this means nothing I realise to those who don’t know I lived in Iowa mid 1999-end 2002. Now you know – welcome to my inner circle) Go you student journalists.
And this, a new broadsheet in New York, the The New York Sun, is starting
it’s its third year of publication! Who cares you say? Well, me. I think that’s awesome, a startup paper in a competitive market! Damn these one-paper metropolitan centres, bring back diversity!
Rah, coffee, white, two sugars, one Milo – I kick on
Okay, seriously not enough sleep, but I’ve got plans, big plans. The blog is taking shape in my mind and will be based on the unfinished template you can see at geocities. Methinks it shall be tres cool.
So, 2 hrs of sleep last night, a FULL day since 6.30am, including a soccer game (we won 3-1, go us), and now an assignment to write…
I simply could not sleep. Lay awake/semi-awake for over 2 hours before deciding I may as well do something. Went and got Weekend Australian…read this article and then fell asleep… There were things I thought about mentioning, but you can read them for yourself *if* anyone reads this. Suffice to say there are some things about
that Wolfowitz character I just gosh-darned can’t reconcile with for pete’s sake! okay… I don’t like. Please excuse the sleep deprivation ‘humour’.
I ate an orange at the game (soccer), but there were no bins at the field, so I brought the rind home with me to throw away. After getting inside I collect the bits of orange rind in my hand, and in the three steps to the bin think, “Ah, throw these rinds in the bin, throw these clothes in the clothes basket and take a shower.”
I then threw the orange rinds into my clothes basket… Yes, in the split second as my hand made the underhanded release motion, I knew what I was about to do, but could do nothing about it. My mind protesting at the insanity of it all, yet unable to stop my hand from releasing them into flight…
So I gently picked orange rind out of my clothes basket in the hope none would disappear further into the abyss.
note to self:
do not lie down on bed for a quick bit of shuteye, or you will wake up tomorrow morning with, amazingly, less time do your assignment than you have now…
Other things happened today. They were important too. THE END
really though, the new blog when I do it will be, like, so cool