USQ - A Review

- A Review

On first glance, the University of Southern Queensland seems pleasant enough. The car turns into a big, welcoming driveway with brickwork gates on either side. Bright yellow banners bearing a bright yellow phoenix wave proudly from literally every available hanging place. I note that some of the hanging places are yellow.

Unlike the two universities I have previously attended (I’m collecting), finding a park at USQ is easy. What’s this? An educational facility with the foresight to build places for its students to leave their cars while they attend learning? I suppose in UQ’s defence, when it was first built people still walked to uni, as horses hadn’t been invented yet. But USQ is not really anything like UQ. Not a sandstone building in sight, I head towards a series of buildings with completely logical and easy to understand letters and numbers on them. Everything is built around one big square, the building I am heading to, building R (for Refectory) is in the relative middle. Super easy.

Sheesh USQ sure likes yellow is a thought I have possibly 78 times before I sit down at my orientation seminar. The toilet doors are yellow, the signs are yellow, the powerpoint presentation that hasn’t started yet is yellow. A girl in a yellow singlet pushes past me and I squash up to make room for her. My knees near my ears, I turn my head to see a girl across the aisle, she’s wearing a yellow shirt and matching yellow cons. I remember that I saw her drive in: her car is yellow too. I begin to wonder if maybe there was a memo I missed, or perhaps an invitation to a cult.

The orientation is for the most part, interesting and informative. I am struck with the thought that all people should have the opportunity to attend university, even for a short while, just to experience the amazing wonder that is proper, compassionate support. Free counselling, cheap accommodation, interest free loans. There’s a group here that will help you with real estate agents giving you trouble while you’re studying, access to tens of thousands of academic journals, careers advice, hundreds of scholarships. They even offer scholarships to people studying non-traditional courses, like men in nursing or education, women in engineering and science. The whole world, every single person, should know the joy of education and the support of a good university.

There’s an unfortunate section of the orientation where a guy from the library tries to get us, the first-year online/distance students, to talk to one another. No dude, we are literally going to spend the next however many years behind keyboards, please don’t make us interact. Thankfully the people in my row seem to agree with me, and we don’t talk. Maybe I’m missing out on something here, but I’m not in the mood for this kind of forced interaction, and the guy running this bit is super irritating so I feel justified.

Awkward situations over, it’s time for collecting up a bunch of pamphlets, trying to navigate the blue card forms and sussing out if I can get some kind of scholarship for living in the country/generally being socially awkward. Then I go to get my photo taken for my ID. The security guy doing the photos has clearly been at it for some hours and looks exhausted so when he asks me how I am, I ask him genuinely how he is doing instead. He is appreciative and pleasant and we have a chat about how lame it is you can’t smile in passport photos. (Which is super lame, by the way).

After that some random engineering dude smiles at me and says hey and I decide to add an extra star rating to the review blog I am already writing in my mind. Sure, I don’t know how to do flirting/I have a lovely Boyfriend, but he had pretty hair, and maybe he thought my hair was pretty too. It was a nice moment.

There is a Phoenix Carnival, which is just like a normal carnival, except everything is yellow. I go to investigate and purchase some vegetarian dumplings from the Chinese Culture Society. I feel like they would have been good dumplings, except that on the advice of the guy behind the counter, I dunked them in a garlic soy sauce. This “sauce” apparently contained every single clove of garlic in Toowoomba, and I can still taste it. I obtained a free phoenix shirt, and, now fully indoctrinated into the USQ cult, decide to leave. On my way out there is an a cappella quartet consisting of 4 pubescent boys with surprisingly good voices. One of them makes eyes at me while they sing, “Can’t help Lovin’ that Gal of Mine” and I begin to wonder if I have left a boob out this morning or something.

As I drive away I try to find an amusingly named street that I saw driving in, but it seems to have disappeared. Perhaps it’s like the Room of Requirement and only shows up when you are in desperate need of a laugh. Luckily for us, unlike the Room of Requirement, this street does show up on maps.

Sure, I might be starting my second degree, but I never said I was mature.

All in all it was a good day. I took a star off for forced interaction guy, and half a star off for all the garlic ever. But then added one back on for nice hair boy. Four and a half out of five yellow stars, would recommend. 

Epipha-map

Self Portrait - Lizzy King, 2013

Sometimes we change our minds slowly; we learn gently, and subconsciously, we may never even realise that our opinions have grown. Other times, realisation comes like a clap of thunder. We might be reading something, or sleeping, or talking with someone, and then suddenly, BAM – the light bulb cliché, the explosion of knowledge. I like to think that those moments are a good way to map our development as humans. So here’s my epipha-map.

Epiphany Number 1: not all families are the same.

In grade 1 or 2 I went to my first sleep over at a friend’s house. I remember my mum telling me I had to wear knickers to bed. I never wore knickers with my pyjamas (secretly, I probably didn’t start doing so till I was a teenager) and I remember being quite weirded out by this change in my sleeping attire. But that wasn’t the epiphany. Sitting at the dinner table with this nuclear family of four, it occurred to my small brain that it was actually probably a bit weird that I called my dad Tony and that he did most of the cooking. And I remember not liking my friend’s dad because he had a moustache and liked his lawn more than he seemed to like his family. My mum did all the garden work, and I actually sort of had it in my head that mums were outside people in my world and dads were really good at making cheesy cauliflower. And in that moment I realised that not everyone was like us (awesome).

Epiphany Number 2: Fractions and decimals are the same thing.

I was quite a clever kid. I was good at most subjects at school without even really trying. I was a very good reader, I liked writing and science things the best, but I also was pretty good at maths too. Until I was about 10. And then suddenly, maths got hard. I struggled intensely with anything that combined letters and numbers: 3 + x = 7?! How can an x be in there?! Xs are for words, not maths. The whole thing baffled and upset me. In particular, I could not cope with fractions. I got my head around decimals ok, but spent hours freaking out about fractions. And then my mum spent a day baking with me. We measured things out with measuring cups, and she patiently explained how 1/4 + 1/4 could equal 1/2. And I got it. I was happy. The next day at school we were working on some maths problems and I had a little “oh!” moment as I realised that 0.25 + 0.25 = 0.5 as well. They were the same thing. All this time, they were the same bloody thing. I felt like a genius idiot.

Epiphany Number 3: Belief isn’t fact.

On school camp, some of the girls were reading out horoscopes from a magazine and asked me what mine was. I went on a small rant about the ridiculousness of the belief that somehow rocks in space could tell us anything about our little mundane lives. Basically, I killed the fun. My atheist friend looked up from the magazine and said, “you know Lizzy, the way you feel about horoscopes, that’s the way I feel about Christianity”. I was pretty pissed and stomped off, I guess not because she’d said it, but because she’d called me out. I was religious at the time, but that moment was one of the first times I deigned to consider other people’s beliefs as in any way legitimate. Not that I suddenly thought horoscopes made any sense (they make none, to be clear), but in that one sentence, my friend had made me realise that all belief is kind of ridiculous, and it doesn’t hurt to be a little bit respectful. (If you’re reading this, Hilde, I give you permission to gloat).

Epiphany Number 4: I’m not a Catholic.

On the subject of religion, I started doubting and questioning my faith around the age of 16. At the end of the school year I went overseas with my choir, and we sang in amazing places across Europe. We sang a church service in a Catholic cathedral and it was one of the most beautiful places I’d ever seen. We were told that only those who were Catholic were allowed to leave the singing to take Communion. So I dramatically stepped out from my 75 fellow singers, along with 3 or so other students and walked the length of the cathedral to get my bread and wine in the fanciest setting possible. And swallowing it was like swallowing chalk and acid. As I walked back to place I realised I’d done it to be different, to be interesting, for fun and I vowed never to take Communion again unless I was sure it was what I wanted. I’ve not touched it to this day.

Epiphany Number 5: Pride and Prejudice.

The themes are in the fucking title. Right there, on the goddamn cover.

Epiphany Number 6: It’s not them it’s me.

In 2009 I got quite sad. And anxious. And stressed. I was depressed at the end of high school too, but this was a whole new ball game. I sort of felt like I wasn’t allowed to call myself depressed because I knew people who’d battled depression for years, and mine came on quite suddenly. In the space of a few weeks I went from being pretty happy and ok to locking myself in my room, not eating, hurting myself, being in a constant state of panic. I probably would not have sort help had it not been for the paranoia. I had an overwhelming sensation that people, all people, everywhere, were looking at me. I knew, logically, that they couldn’t be, but empirically, evidence that I was seeing with my own eyes was that they were. So I went to a psychologist. It was three or so weeks before I got the courage to tell her people were looking at me and she said, “have you considered, Lizzy, it’s that you are looking at them?” No I had not considered this, I admitted. She told me to practise not making eye contact for a whole day, and see if this fixed the problem. I walked out of her office and up the street and instantly realised I was making eye contact with people. So I stopped. It was excessively difficult, I had been the one freaking other people out all along. I genuinely skipped home with happiness. While the battle for my happiness took a lot more than a quick fix realisation, this epiphany helped me so much, that I honestly don’t know how I would have survived without it.

Epiphany Number 7: I can’t run out of inspiration.

Almost every time I sit down to write a blog, I don’t know what I’m going to write about. And it’s becoming a problematic fear. I won’t go near my computer for hours, I’ll dawdle and procrastinate and ask people what I should say and read a book and hope it’ll go away. And then every time, without fail, I’ll open a word document with a blank mind and suddenly find something to write about. Like just now, when I had an epiphany about epiphanies, and started telling you about it. There’s always going to be stuff in my brain and as long as people keep reading (and even if they don’t), I’m going to keep writing it down.

Ever had an epiphany? Tell me about it via comment, facebook, twitter, carrier pigeon.

14 Reasons to Hate February 14th

Fig. 1. The "Blood Red Bear" from Ancient Valentine's Mythology. It takes your heart and then eats all your chocolates. 

Valentine’s Day is a crock of shit and you know it.

“You’re not allowed to say that, Lizzy,” I hear you grumble; “you’ve got a boyfriend. Only single people are allowed to hate Valentine’s Day. Leave us alone and go back to your happiness”. Well to that I say, pffffft. We can unite in our hatred of this “holiday”, ok? Is there anyone in the world who genuinely enjoys Valentine’s Day? In their heart of hearts? (Not sorry). Really? I would like to hear from you. I have a small experiment I would like to perform on you. Right after I take you through this list of 14 reasons no one in the entire world could possibly like Valentine’s Day:

1.     No one wants a goddamn bear that says “I wuv you” when you squeeze it.

2.     No one wants to pay $90 per person to sit in a crowded restaurant in the middle of the week eating a set menu worth about $30 on any other night.

3.     Have you seen Woolworths is selling a ONE KILO BOX OF CHOCOLATES? You could kill someone with a box that big. And this is for a holiday recognised for being about couples. You are buying a box bigger than my torso for ONE PERSON. This aint no family box, this is gift that says, quite clearly “hey fatty fatty, I love you, please have a coronary”.

4.     Single people feel inadequate on a day devoted to couples.

5.     Couples feel obliged to get involved even though it’s a Thursday night and honestly, wouldn’t you much rather stay in and eat tacos?

6.     If one person in a relationship buys a present, and the other is like “why is present? Happy Thursday?” then everyone is going to feel just a little sad.

7.     If one person is expecting a present and the other is like “Hah! Valentine’s Day is for chumps” everyone is going to feel a little sad then too.

8.     No one wants to see your facebook photos of your romantic, candlelit dinner and hot tub session.

9.     Or your hike to a mountain, followed by champagne and a quick proposal.

10. Or your 1kg box of chocolates.

11. St Valentine was just some guy (or possibly two guys) and he didn’t have anything to do with tacky Hallmark cards with pink hearts and flowers on them.

12. In fact he was martyred. And was probably single and alone.

13. That movie tried hard, but Love Actually was 300 times better and got there first so… yeah. Shut up Valentine's Day.

14. One Valentine’s Day, Boyfriend and I decided to go to the Night Owl to get some instant packet mousse because we both really felt like chocolate mousse because um… who doesn’t? I bought the mousse and the milk and then Boyfriend decided we needed whipped cream too. So he went back in and got it and the guy behind the counter with the permanently blood-shot eyes was like “heh. Happy Valentine’s Day” because it looked like he was just buying whipped cream on Valentine’s Day and that was kind of gross.

Overanalysing Harry Potter

... well it’s worked for me once, why not try again?

Overanalysing TV, books, movies etc. is one of my all-time favourite pastimes. I respect that for some people, this is classified as “ruining”, but for me it is a true expression of my own enjoyment of a text. Now, I’m sure you guys will be stunned to hear this, but I’m currently re-reading the Harry Potter series. I’m about a third of the way through the Chamber of Secrets and already my brain is buzzing with some of the big questions. Please keep in mind that I am analysing from an ‘in-universe’ perspective, that is, I am looking for answers in the stories as if they are for real, and making assumptions where there are gaps. I am not suggesting that J.K. Rowling has any flaws whatsoever, because she is a perfect human being.

Why are all Slytherins jerks? I mean I’m not sure that we ever get a fair representation of them, given that we usually see them from Harry’s perspective, and Harry’s first encounter with Slytherins is Draco, who sucks at being a human. Harry then sees all things Slytherin though this lens, and understandably, that house is tainted with a whole lot of bad shit. But there is no real evidence to suggest this perspective is wrong. Even Slughorn, who is mostly harmless, is kind of a dick. He’s cowardly, insensitive, prejudiced against muggleborns in a really dangerously subtle way. And of course there’s Snape, hero, double agent, eternal sufferer; surely he bucks the trend? No, he’s still a douche and besides, Dumbledore himself says that Snape’s good qualities suggest that Hogwarts “sorts too soon”. That is to say, that Snape perhaps never belonged in Slytherin to begin with.

So I propose one of two answers to this conundrum. Either 1. Slytheriness is hereditary or ingrained or 2. Sorting people into Slytherin makes them douches. I’m inclined to go with option 2, because it seems to me that there can’t be four kinds of people in the wizarding world, but segregating children, bringing them up with four limited world views *creates* four kinds of people. I hope that some time in the future, Hogwarts thinks about reviewing the sorting process. I know that houses are a big part of their history, and that tradition is important, but I would suggest that certain dark traits could be gently discouraged and harmony and cooperation better achieved without this archaic practise.

Where the flip does all the food come from? We know that food is the first of the five principal exceptions to Gamp’s law of Elemental Transfiguration. Right? You guys all knew that right? Basically, you can’t make food out of thin air. Other exceptions likely include money or precious stones and other wealth. This makes sense, if you could conjure that shit up, there’d be pretty much no need for economy or education or like… anything. If you could sit around making food and money all day, you’d never leave the house. BUT we do know that you can summon food from elsewhere if you know where it is: we know that House Elf magic can teleport food between say, the kitchens and the Great Hall. You can also make more of it if you’ve got some already. So presumably, if you had to feed 100 people, you could make a couple of yummy dishes and then just multiply them, or make them bigger. But this isn’t my question, my question is, where does that original food come from?

Are there wizard farms? Wizard grocery stores? Wizard farmers’ markets? Would you become a primary producer if you could be an auror instead? Would you farm the land if you could be the Knight Bus inspector? I feel like there are probably speciality food producers, the kind of people who make magic sweets and chocolate frogs and stuff, but who is growing the corn? I guess the answer is probably muggles. While most witches and wizards would not be able to cope with muggle money and muggle shops, there are probably some who are savvy enough to buy from muggle suppliers and then use Geminio or something and sell it all at a hefty profit.

I was having this discussion on facebook and my friend Blake made the rather amusing suggestion that some pure blood families wouldn’t like this idea, and that there are “muggle-free” ranges that can be purchased by those not wanting their food tainted by non-magical hands. I like to think the shop owners would have to be pretty subtle about this, to avoid being condemned as muggle-haters. I bet the labels say things like “mud free” and “pure bread”.

 Can I go to magic school? I mean, no I can’t, because I’m 24 and a muggle, but where do Australian witches and wizards go? Where do all the non-British, non-French, non-criminal wizards go (sorry Drumstrang, but let’s be real). There’s reference to the Salam Witches Institute, but that seems to be for grown-up witches in America and Bill had that Brazilian pen-pal. I just want to knooooow. I bet the Australian school is somewhere in the outback, and the kids get to it on the magical equivalent of a Greyhound bus. I think magical and non-magical Indigenous people lived together in harmony before Europeans came and mucked it all up. The school would be underground maybe, and Quidditch would be played in the dust and the haze. Mail would be delivered by Tawny Frog-Mouths and Care of Magical Creature class would be even more dangerous than at Hogwarts. In short, it would be awesome.

Incidentally, if J.K. ever felt like releasing An Appraisal of MagicalEducation in Europe like she did with Quidditch through the Ages and The Tales of Beedle the Bard I would be all over that shit in a heartbeat. 

Hey you guys guess where today's blogspiration came from...