nondescript - issue one by T L

The crew of first issue.

nonDescript

would like to welcome you to the

This project was started for a lot a reasons and probably not much sense. Maybe that’s why this magazine does not have any specific themes but rather a somewhat broad area that we vaguely aim towards. Made by students, possibly for students, nonDescript contains various things, which you can discover for yourself on the contents rather than having to read a lengthy text description. After much procrastination and delays, this issued is/was finally released on the last day (Sunday) of the Term Two holidays 2010. Apparently those now gone Term Two Holidays were the last ‘real’ term holidays (for the year, excluding end of year holidays), since Term Three holidays would probably spent hardcore-studying (if you’re doing VCE subjects, if you’re not...then start spending your holidays properly because they are numbered, and if you’ve past all of that stuff, you’ve either have lots of holidays or almost nothing...) Anyhow, hopefully everyone reading this is spent their holidays well, studiously reading non-educational novels and exploring the fascinating worlds of MMORPGs, or the student fate of doing HOLIDAY homework. We trust you have a lesuirely, and relatively happy, time browsing through nonDescript. Again, I would like to say, “Welcome.” TL Chief Editor

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THE CREW

COMIC: THIS IS SCHOOL

TO GIVE UP SEAT OR TO NOT GIVE UP SEAT?

CASTLE BEAUTY UNDER THREAT

LET’S TRADE SHOES

REVIEWS: THE SIX SACRED STONES AND THE FIVE GREATEST WARRIORS

HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON CREATIVE WRITING: ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS LEAVES OF THE DAY, LEAVES OF THE NIGHT

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Chief Editor + Designer

Senior Writer + Editor

Cyrus A

Senior Writer + Editor

Xuan Le

Senior Writer + Editor

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to give up seat or to not give up seat? It is that time of

the week where I have to once again embark on an excruciatingly uncomfortable trip on public transport. If only there was some other way to avoid the daily loathing of uncertainty, capricious timetable changes and the awkwardness of being pressed up against a stranger. But even sitting down on a seat during peak hours causes me queasiness and gives reason for the butterfly cheering squad to screech its muffled shrills in my stomach. It feels even more awkward in school uniform, where you are very identifiable to the public scrutinising eye. Most of the time, you experience the odd furtive contemptuous glance made upon you based on your conduct. You are frowned and tut-tut upon when you place your oversized bag of yours in the middle of aisles and thereby obstructing pathways (the most common notion upheld by adults is that you are purposely trying to trip them. HA! Wrong. There’s just simply nowhere to put them). Students these days are being reported by officious bystanders who quietly voice their mutual disdain and disapproval of teenaged behaviour to their corresponding educational institutes. They make mental notes of school symbols, mottos and can distinguish between a Caulfield Grammar boy and a Melbourne Grammar boy. These people appear to be normal public trans-

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port users who frequent means of ‘reporting breaches of societal expectations and public transport etiquette.’ They enjoy the sensation it brings to them when they type out lengthy emails to the school principals regarding the abhorrent and immature nature of their students. They believe that by doing so they are accomplishing a great deal for themselves and others. Muahahahahahahahah! These people are everywhere. So how can you identify them on trains? Well, sadly there is no easy way. The only thing to do is to be suspicious of anyone who appears to be tightlipped, introverted and carrying a notepad around. These people are sensitive and possibly uphold traditional views of public courtesy. They probably do not enjoy the sounds of repetitive shrills and screams of teenage girls and listening to the lewd jokes that serve as the major banter between teenage boys. They love peace and quiet, the simplicity of life’s smallest events and continuously drown themselves in thick novels because they are so unsatisfied with what the world offers them. You can’t help but feel sorry about them. But that feeling wears away once your school coordinator lectures the whole year level about public persona and the absolute importance of being an ideal role model when walking around with the school’s emblem emblazoned on your

left blazer pocket. Left is where your heart lies, metaphorically. However doesn’t this insinuate that your school pride is not right? So the fundamental issue that upsets people most on public transport is when to and when not to give up seats. This is also the issue that troubles students most. Who is entitled to a seat? Who is more worthy of this seat than yourself ? This issue raises many arguments surrounding different perspectives such as scientific, ethical and social values. If you were to take a scientific view on giving up seats, you would argue that you are not entitled to give up your seat because you claimed it first. Darwin’s theory on natural selection thoroughly supports this argument. Those with the skills to claim seats survive in comfort while those without the skills suffer with having to stand up for the remainder of the trip. If you took an ethical stance on this issue, you would support the main idea that you must give up your seat to the elderly, pregnant and disabled. By giving up your seat, you are being considerate to other people and their circumstances. Psychologically you can benefit from giving up seats as you smile at the thought of helping others. If you believe in karma, you would believe that in the end, you’ll be compensated for your sore legs later on in your life. But there is a disadvantage in giving up seats. In order to give up your seat, you need to identify whether someone is elderly, disabled or pregnant and if you’re a student you need to identify whether they are a fullfare paying passenger. Ultimately, your mind formulates a narrow-minded judgment on a

person based on characteristics of common stereotypes that surface in our society. Surely a person is worth more than their age, disability, fertility and their preference of purchasing a full fare ticket? They are given special considerations on public transport because of their circumstances, however, it varies from person to person as to whether they are willing to accept seats. Some of the elderly find it offensive when someone offers them a seat as well as those who are partially injured and demand no special consideration. Sometimes it can be humiliating when you wrongly judge a person and offer them a seat. For example, women who have large abdomens and are not pregnant can react quite bitter at the presumption from others that they are expecting a baby soon. Students find it even more difficult to distinguish between full fare paying passengers and concession paying passengers as attire does not solely represent wealth and status. Students can’t find themselves asking a passenger whether they are a full-fare paying or concession because the subject of money is sensitive. Men and women nowadays are unable to adhere to their traditional stereotypes as society progresses with the attempt of ‘equality between the sexes.’ However, there are some people who have a preference for old traditional qualities of men and mentally demand they give up seats for ladies. There are still a group out there that supports old fashion manners instead of the ignorance these days with most of the focus on technology related pastimes. But do you see what I mean? There is a certain risk involved when offering someone a seat. The risk of humiliation and offense with offering a seat and the risk of being considered rude for not offering a seat. So really, if you want a seat, ASK FOR IT. (Although there is a sense of selfishness felt afterwards when you sit down. I guess public transport will always be uncomfortable and awkward unless you’re on a nearly empty train.) nonDescript

Castle Beauty A few years ago, Mac.Rob unfortunately lost a debate against Melbourne High with the topic, ‘Mac.Rob’s inner beauty is better than Melbourne High’s outer beauty.’ The year was 2007 and although MHS won the debate with their snide argumentation, they definitely forfeited the right to claim victory in 2008. The matter in question was the actions taken by MHS when they were presented with a threat to the image of their educational establishment. Their actions by means of dealing with this issue clearly demonstrate that ‘looks are everything’ and without it, they are ‘screwed.’ We all know that Melbourne High School have impressive buildings. But what happens

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if you stuck a 25 storey residential tower behind it? Yes, those two grey figures are meant to imitate the massive tower. This was Stonnington Council’s plan, to build a 25 storey residential tower to cater for its growing population in the South Yarra area. However, it was put on halt for some time. Word got around at Melbourne High and things were intervened. Out of pure nature, Melbourne High School were undeniably outraged. Their unparalleled scenic castle was going to be overshadowed by a monstrous eyesore of a tower. In the April 24th edition of Ours, Mr. Jeremy Ludowyke, principal of Melbourne High as well as an ‘old boy’ himself, commented,

Under Threat ‘The sheer height of this proposed building is such that its shadow will fall across the entire oval in the morning. It will dominate all view lines of the school to such an extent that the school will look like an ant overlooked by an elephant.’ It is quite unbelievable that the Principal of Melbourne High is more concerned about a shadow falling across the entire oval in the mornings. Was he not more worried about the safety measures? But I guess it does explains why there aren’t so many tall trees at Melbourne High. He also went on further stating, ‘This must be opposed at all costs. If such an extreme overdevelopment was to proceed it would have an impact not only upon the physical life of the School but upon the sense of attachment and spirit of the place which rests within the hearts and minds of anyone associated with the School.’ So in other words, Mr. Ludowyke is explaining that if there was this massive tower behind the school then past and present MHS students, staff as well as parents would not feel they belong to the school anymore. He also concludes that all sense of life within the school would be drained away, leaving the school in a purgatory state. Isn’t that overly exaggerated or what? So, what do MHS do?? What was their course of action? Were they going to sit back and let a tower’s shadow overrule them??

Were they going to let a mere shadow transform into a black hole and eventually engulf their vigour and virility? No, they honour the work by fighting for it, of course. They hire a team of ‘dedicated members of the MHS community’ (with appropriate credentials) willing to fight this case. Mr Simon R Molesworth AM, QC BA, LL.B, FAIM, FAICD, FEIANZ, FVPELA, PIA (Hon.F), C.Env.P, M.ICOMOS

Queen's Counsel Mr Michael Fooks, Director - FMSA Architecture Ms Roz Hansen Hansen Partnership Pty Ltd Melbourne | Sydney | Vietnam

Ms Robyn Riddett

Anthemion Consultancies Melbourne Victoria

Information found from: http://resources.mhs.vic.edu.au/ours/2008/5-september-2008.pdf And there you have it. Melbourne High School value superficial outer beauty. While MHS marvel their win on their case, we remember the students who attend government schools located within metres of mobile phone towers, learn in decrepit portables or are exposed to asbestos in their school environment. As for us Mac.Rob girls, we sigh and laugh at Mr. Ludowyke’s hilarious use of metaphors and say, ‘well, they are Melbourne High.’

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Xuan Le

Let’s Trade Shoes Tony Abbott’s plan to send illegal boat arrivals to a third country has many left people fuming and for good reason. Something that persecutes victims has no place in Australia. Kevin Rudd’s way of dealing with the asylum situation may not be the best but if the Liberals were to come to power, things will get a whole lot nastier. Asylum seekers’ treatment will be harsh and inhumane. Even now, uncertainty of their refugee status has led to an increase in self harm and depression. Add this new ‘Pacific Solution’ to the equation and the number of incidents will sky rocket. You should realise that Abbott is just using them as pawns to score petty brownie points, all the while knowing the devastating long term consequences. But they are real people too and deserve the same rights as us- not just to feel safe but to be safe. Asylum seekers aren’t doing anything wrong. Most asylum seekers are just that! - Not terrorists or criminals. This is just the Liberals’ paranoia talking. To seek asylum is not illegal under international law. Of the refugees holding a Temporary Protection Visa as part of the Pacific Solution, 97% were found to be genuine. The government should be more focused on the much larger number of ‘illegals’ in Australia that come here on planes and overstay their visa that are doing much more harm. Compared to other countries, the number of refugees coming into Australia is puny. Don’t you people have a heart? We are meant to be a multicultural country, a land of opportunity, and proud of it. Yet, the Coalition is suggesting we close this opportunity to the people who need it most. Past refugees made a huge contribution to the community such as Khoa Do, 2005 young Australian of the year. Every-

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one should have a chance to shine. Let’s trade shoes for a moment. Imagine that you have to make a tough choice-risk your life and stay or risk your life out on the oceans but have a chance. You flee from the war, violence and torture but you also have to leave your home and loved ones behind. You’re not sure if you will ever return home. Finally you think you’ve made it to a better life. Relief surges over you, then strangers break to you it’s not true and it’s all sucked away. You’re chucked into a detention centre, behind piercing razor wire. It’s a prison. You’re life is no better now then before, you don’t know when or if it will ever get better. But you stay because you have no other choice. Instead of locking the asylum seekers up, how about the government work on accelerated assessment and a dispersal program. They need to focus less on border security and stop being over territorial. If we ‘stop the boats’ as Tony Abbott said, then where will these people that have been forced to leave their country go? Australia is such a large country yet we are resorting to a third country. I’m sure if we all shuffle over slightly, there will be plenty of room for everyone. If everyone cared, loved and shared, we would all see a better day. And I wouldn’t have to be pointing out the obvious. But I guess Tony Abbott will have to walk a thousand miles at least in the shoes of the Pacific Solution refugees till they fit his feet-to really know the pain they had to go through. Then he would finally understand the anguish he will put thousands of future refugees- real people in.

REVIEWs

Cyrus A

Matthew Reilly’s The Six Sacred Stones and The Five Greatest Warriors Are you up for an adventure around the world? Do you have even a slight interest in the relationship between the ancient past and now? Are you keen on puzzles and action? Have you ever wished that you could save the world? Well, if you answered yes to any of these questions, this book is definitely for you!

A sequel to The Seven Ancient Wonders, the novel brings back the much loved characters of the brave, loyal and Aussie hero, Jack West, with his fellow comrades and his genius daughter. His comrades comprise of an Irish Princess, Wizard from Canada, Pooh Bear from the United Arab Emirates, Stretch from Israel, Sky Monster from New Zealand and the quirky Scottish math genius twins, who always win at the blackjack Table, simply by doing the ‘math’. These small countries band together once again in an attempt to prevent the more ‘powerful nations’, that is, United States from taking over the world, and in the case of Japan, from destroying the world.

France is also in the race and the betrayer’s will also be involved. In this action packed novel, where there are dates, locations, pillars and stones needed to be found, where information is power, where there are immense rewards at stakes, the reader has no choice but to be stuck and fascinated with this novel.

How to Train Your Dragon (2010) Co-directed by Dean DeBlois and Chris Sanders, Dreamworks Animation has brought yet another brilliant film, successor to the animated comedies, Shrek and Kung Fu Panda. Based on a children’s novel, this film will be a joy to watch for all ages. Set in a mythical world where Vikings exist and dragons roam, the story follows a young boy name Hiccup, striving to prove himself capable of killing a dragon, to prove that he is brave and strong, to make people see through deeper than his skinny, weak outer appearance.

From an attempt to seek his father’s recognition, Hiccup succeeded in bringing down a Nightfury, a feared, powerful dragon that none has ever seen before. Given the chance to destroy this dangerous creature but did not, Hiccup made a decision that will turn this story into a thrilling ride as the audience is plunged into an adventure, one that takes us upon the road of what it means to make new friends and overcome obstacles together.

ture the audience minds from beginning to end. It is not too complex nor too simple, but just right for a story, one that will bring a warm, sweet feeling that stays with you long after.

A warm, touching film, with a lovable dragon, a determined working mind and an original plot, this film will no doubt capnonDescript

Rock, Paper, Scissors JT

There were only certain exceptional

circumstances where my father saw fit to exercise his fist power. The first was whenever he was having a civil game of ‘rock, paper, scissors’ with me. After the best of three, he would always philosophise that the rock is the most powerful object one could ever be in possession of if given the choice of rock, paper or scissors. Of course it wasn’t wise of him to use ‘rock’ in each game we played but after a while it becomes evident that he had a dominant preference for ‘rock.’ To this day he even upholds that ‘rock’ is heavy, ‘rock’ is strong and ‘rock’ is never wrong. As for me I was more inclined to ‘paper,’ mainly because it could be easily creased and folded, especially into pretty paper cranes. But most importantly paper reminds me of presents and the delicate eye catching wrapping that hides and covers what the gift actually is. My father would smile and remark that my thoughts were very good and well constructed, especially for a young girl that I was back then. As I was the avid ‘paper’

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supporter and he was the firm ‘rock’ enthusiast, it was inevitable we shared a lot of debates over which one was better. But I do remember one time where our little ‘rock’ and ‘paper’ debate was unceremoniously interrupted by an inadmissible third party. I was showing my father my proficient paper folding skills while simultaneously arguing that without paper there wouldn’t be books. ‘Ha! Paper is better,’ I asserted with confidence. My father opened his mouth to respond when all of the sudden he transfixed his eyes to the oddly shaped shadow that was casting on the adjacent wall. ‘What would you say Joanie if I came and cut up your piece of paper into a million pieces?’ exclaimed my mother in a stern and solemn tone that left an imprinted air of discomfiting silence in the room. My father and I slowly diverted our attention to her presence, glaring at her sharp scissors contrasted with the frenzied expression on her face. My mother and father exchanged a lengthy and poignant

stare as though they were struggling to overpower each other to prevent any revelations from being exposed. I figure that it was probably to protect me. Eventually my father avoided eye contact and let out a teasing laugh. He replied that he would crush my mother’s scissors with his rock if she ever did try to ruin my perfect blank piece of paper. I even added that I would wrap up his rock in my paper so that his rock didn’t get hurt when crushing the scissors. ‘My scissors can cut through both rock and paper,’ retorted my mother as she lowered her scissors and left the room quietly. My father and I chuckled in hysterics at that absurd comment. The second situation that calls upon the impeccable power of my father’s fist was whenever he was pretending to be ‘superman.’ At around 5 o’clock on weekdays, I would wait on the porch, yearning for his swift return and his ‘superman’ rock fist. He told me that his ‘superman’ rock fist was endowed with supernatural powers that encompassed great strength, courage and unparallel forces against adversaries. Lifting me on his burly shoulders, he told me to imagine that I was a paper plane that was light and agile dashing through air. Together with his rock fist and me as paper plane sidekick, we went on many adventures and encountered peril, ‘baddies’ and sometimes even my mother, who disapproved of many of our activities. During times when my father didn’t come home at 5 o’clock I would turn to my mother for answers. She wasn’t helpful because she would always sharply snap that ‘he’s probably out wasting himself on ladies and booze.’ Afterwards, she would tell me to go away as though she

was cutting me off. She was like a pair of scissors that got tired of snipping paper, refusing every opportunity to open up. You can probably tell that my mother’s mood tended to oscillate between one extreme to another. I used to think it was far worse than what the thermostat did on a regular basis. Sometimes my mother would invite a friend over and they would talk about various matters in the living room. Whenever this friend came over, I knew it was my cue to stay in my room and to amuse myself with the beautiful dolls and teddy bears my father had bought me. But one time I did manage to overhear a very interesting conversation. I stood behind the kitchen door and listened in on the intricate details. ‘How’s your husband treating you?’ asked the friend with scintillating eyes who appeared to be very eager and overly excited. ‘Not very well. He gets worked up on me when Joanie’s not around. But the problem is that Joanie loves him all too much. More than she should. She’s too young to understand her father’s true colours. But I can’t blame her for not loving me as much. I’m always moody and I can tell she hates it when I spontaneously yell at her for nothing. I wish I could leave him but I can’t leave Joanie,’ said my mother who was almost reduced to tears. ‘Well…all relationships have problems and imperfections. I think you’ve got to concentrate on all the good qualities your

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husband has to offer to this family. He is after all the breadwinner and he loves Joanie a lot. From an outsider’s view, your husband is providing for you and Joanie. That’s all that matters,’ smiled the friend. My mother ordered her out of the house and she was never invited over ever again. The third situation that echoes for my father’s fist is quite a complicated and difficult circumstance to explain. I have only seen it happen once but then again it was a very traumatic experience to be caught in the middle of. I remember the sound of muffled voices and a few shrilling screams that were begging to be noticed and heard. It was one of those days where my father didn’t come home at 5 o’clock and we didn’t get to play ‘superman.’ I came down stairs and headed towards the direction of the voices which were emanating from the kitchen. When I approached the entrance I stood still in disbelief to the scene that unravelled before my eyes. I saw my father pinning my mother down on the kitchen bench with his left hand. My mother’s eyes were red and streams of tears profusely rolled down her face. She was groaning in agony as my father’s clenched right fist came down on her face. The great force was inexplicable as the impact of

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her head against the kitchen bench elicited a loud thud. Time after time the same action of the fist coming down on her face was repeated excessively. My mother kicked her legs relentlessly without any avail. He was too strong and he was like a rock crushing her. As far as I was concern, he was the rock and my mother was the scissors. In a game of ‘rock papers scissors,’ the rock beats the scissors. I remember my father telling me that he was being ‘superman’ and was hurting mother because she was apparently stealing too many cookies from the cookie jar. He silenced me by making me promise that I wouldn’t utter a word about what I had witnessed. So for many years I acted like the piece of paper that covered for the rock and unfortunately I’ve let my mother suffer in torture under the overbearing influence of my father. She tried to raise me right by cutting me in the right shape. Sadly, the blades of her scissors were made blunt by the repetitive friction of the rock. My mother didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve to be deprived of a mother. Now that I’m older, my father and I no longer play the civil game of ‘rock, papers, scissors’. I think he’s forgotten that paper beats rock. The police agreed with me.

Leaves of the day, Leaves of the night TL

Leaves of the day Whom pay homage to the sky, The misty wet rainbows And the deep, deep blue high. Of times that have passed, Gone away in the wind. Of times that yet passed, Is what tomorrow will bring. Leaves of the night Whom pay homage to the sky, The fiery red golds And the icy blue whites. We are the children Upon the tree of life. Dreams is of our nature, Of living, our life.

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| Issue One

projectroom.weebly.com Cover Illustration by T L