BakedMagazine112 by Robert Rooney

baked. one one two

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Culture is to know the best that has been said and thought in this worldâ&#x20AC;? - Matthew Arnold

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Editor’s letter BAKED feature

Welcome to what is most certainly an exciting issue of Baked. I am thrilled to present to you the very best that Bond students have to offer, in terms of articles, poetry and photography. This issue is all about culture and exploring the constraints we create in our own universe. From global, social and technological culture, we are all nomads bound by our own lines of understanding. It is up to us to explore, wonder and create.

I would like to congratulate and thank former editor, Jacqui Ward, for all her dedication, passion and sleepless nights in working on previous editions of Baked. You are amazing. Further appreciation goes to Sally Morris and all her input with the design of the magazine. Thank you also to Varsity Printing, our advertisers, the Journalism Students’ Association (JSA), the Bond University Student Association (BUSA), SCOPE and all our wonderful contributors. Finally, thank you to my sister Maja for her all support and feedback. Hope you enjoy! - Milly Arsic

Front cover photo by Lisa O’Brien

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Contents...

CCo-

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CREATIVE

OPINION

FEATURE

22 36 38 48

12 Changing Lenses 24 A Traveller’s Journey to her Nationalistc Heart 26 My Story 28 Saintly Sojourns 32 The Death of Customer Service 40 Life Lessons 43 P-Platers 44 Techno-Grief OTHER

Head to Head: Mac vs PC Freedom of Speech Internet killed the record label Eugenics

9 ‘Split Apart’ Poetry

8 Vox Pops 11 Cooking Made Easy - Pavlova 18 Social Pages 34 Top Ten: Worst Movies

Fhoto by Christian Schussler

DISCLAIMER: The opinions expressed within this publication do not necessarily reflect the beliefs of the Journalism Students’ Association. The editorial team accepts no responsibility for the opinions expressed in any article, or for any omissions or errors. The editorial team reserves the right to edit any articles submitted for publication in Baked magazine.

BAKED: The magazine of the

Journalism Students’ Association President: Jacqui Ward Editor: Milly Arsic Advertising Direcors: Robert Rooney Creative Director: Sally Morris Creative Design: Milly Arsic Emma Griffiths Sub-editors: Fiona Self Laura Bingham Contributions: Emma Devlin, Jacqui Ward, Laura Bingham, Lauren Kennard, Shannan Smith, Sam Kingsley, Peter Clayton, Robert Millard, Jorja-Lee Wallace, Angela Glinderman, Robert Rooney, Lisa O’Brien, Chris Schussler Cover photograph by Lisa O’Brien 6

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VOX POPS - It’s your say

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Dimitri Bourne Bachelor of Law/Commerce Should Australia be a republic or monarchy? Monarchy as the majority are saying it. What is your guilty pleasure? Facebook Best chillout spot on campus? Grassy patch outside Cafe Bond

Shintaro Koido Bachelor of International Relations Should Australia be a republic or monarchy? Monarchy. What is your guilty pleasure? Having a scotch and eating Mike’s Kitchen ribs Best chillout spot on campus? Anywhere and everywhere!

Chantal McNaught Bachelor of Law Should Australia be a republic or monarchy? Monarchy. Why fix what isn’t broken? What is your guilty pleasure? Meowing randomly Best chillout spot on campus? The Lawbrary with my homies

Ridhuan Kamal Bachelor of Law Should Australia be a republic or monarchy? Monarchy. Means more holidays. What is your guilty pleasure? Stealing my roommate’s cookies Best chillout spot on campus? In front of the lake under the Arch

Edward Berry Bachelor of Law Should Australia be a republic or monarchy? Monarchy, it’s good to have a big brother. What is your guilty pleasure? Tim tams and YouTube. Together or separate, you can’t go wrong! Best chillout spot on campus? On a day of sunshine, lying on the Ornamental Lawns is bliss!

Andra Nasrie Bachelor of Journalism Should Australia be a republic or monarchy? Republic. Monarchies are so last century. What is your guilty pleasure? Singing Justin Bieber’s ‘baby’ Best chillout spot on campus? The belltower. Lol, just kidding. BUSA office.

Sam Jones Bachelor of Law/Commerce Should Australia be a republic or monarchy? Republic. What is your guilty pleasure? Excessive use of semicolons. Best chillout spot on campus? The library.

Georgie Neilsen Bachelor of Law/ International Relations Should Australia be a republic or monarchy? Monarchy. It’s tradition and good ties to ‘Motherland’. What is your guilty pleasure? Pouring milk into a half eaten tub of icecream, lathering my feet with cocoa butter and watching Embarrassing Bodies Best chillout spot on campus? The grass by the lake.

Grace Macaulay Bachelor of Arts Should Australia be a republic or monarchy? Monarcy. Australia is still young with much to learn. What is your guilty pleasure? Jam doughnuts! Best chillout spot on campus? MLC or the Lawns.

Matthew Harman Bachelor of International Relations Should Australia be a republic or monarchy? Monarchy. A republic would erode the stability of our political system. What is your guilty pleasure? Excessive schadenfreude Best chillout spot on campus? Lawbrary...partial to level 6. Ivory towers are my thing.

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Split Apart by Sam Kingsley A Perfect Night

My Second Self

The Girl who Smiled

The currents of the night swell around me. I don’t know how I got here. We talk this dance and our bodies move. Our thoughts are lost. Our memories are happy. We sit so close our eyes are flirting. Our lips meet and that kiss rocks me. Electrifying every nerve. Those reckless summer nights. Times that we can smile back on. I will smile. I will smile because I lived those stories. I had that life, and it was beautiful. She was beautiful. Look back in your last moments and smile on this perfect night.

I watch you taste it. I see your face. And I know that I’m alive. You’re shooting stars from the barrels of your eyes. And it drives me crazy; just drives me wild. Send us over the edge, that burning edge of passion. Cutting like a knife, wrenching in my gut. Losing each other in a pool of desire. Drowning in this lust. I want you with me. I need you beside me. My second half. Split apart, our bodies yearn to meet. Crave to join. A carnal hunger swelling from within.

Standing on the edge of oblivion. Staring, searching, seeing only a lonely reflection. Gazing deeper, looking for the end, but knowing there isn’t one. Melting, reforming, two blue pools, bright and shining. Replacing the abyss. So beautiful and so much hidden. Still never ending. Tipping, falling. Lost. Lost in these blue pools of hope and sorrow. All the pain, the weight, the sadness, listed and washed away. The light entering my soul, opening me up, cleansing, erasing the darkness, leaving only light. Falling deeper, the past fades, the present blurs. Time ceases to exist. The future, irrelevant. Deeper still. Consciousness, soul, thought, heart, everything fades. Only a single feeling remains. Love. Falling backwards. Rising. Conscious feeling, joy, memories. Everything rushing back, flooding my sight. Standing, staring. Staring into those blue pools. Those mesmerising blue pools. I am lost looking into your eyes.

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Cooking Made Easy

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BAKED Robert feature Rooney whips up a delicious pavlova...

EAMY. Y. DESIRE. CR IT U R F T. H G LI K DE SUGARY. DAR sly family’s jealou GLORIOUS. y m to d e ch a rds att promise The many wo e PAVLOVA. I th : e p ci re s to u mo l never return il w guarded, infa u o y e p ci ng this re pieces of you after eati n, disgusting e d d ri r a g su ly di, ade is recipe is tru h T those mass-m s. ll se s h rt recipe t Woolwo AVLOVA. The P white shit tha ld o e th f o t siniscen ure. Be an Au lt cu n vine and rem a li ra st u ble. herent in A AV on your ta which is so in P e m so t e g Q and sie, have a BB

INGREDIENTS 4 egg whites A pinch of salt I cup castor sugar 2 teaspoons vinegar 2 tablespoons cornflour Filling ingredients: 300ml cream, passionfruit (canned stuff is good but fresh is better), strawberries, kiwifruit, peaches, blueberries, raspberries. (Fruits can be substituted for your preferred tastes.)

DIRECTIONS elsius. to 180 degrees C g whites. 1. Pre-heat oven g whites. Keep eg eg d an lk yo te ra 2. Sepa beating egg steel bowl when s es nl ai st a se T MIX U 3. T AS EGGS WON N A RT PO IM Y ER whites. (V salt until stiff. Wait PROPERLY). Add white and foamy. til un g in at be r, 4. Add suga ve. for sugar to dissol r and cornflour. 5. Fold in vinega paper. tray with baking and 6. Cover a baking onto the tray. Tr y re tu ix m a ov vl 7. Pile your pa nd. shape it to a mou through). It es (or until baked ut in m 60 r fo k 8. Coo cool. a meringue. Let it e bl m se re ld kly. ou sh ad across top thic re sp d an m ea cr 9. Whip p. ssionfruit over to 10. Pour lots of pa ts over the top. ui fr of diced n io ct le se ur yo 11. Place v! 12. ENJOY your Pa

CHEF’S NOTES *Remember the saying ‘less is more’? Well it doesn’t count here. The more cream, passionfruit and fruit you can pile on top, the tastier it will be. **The author of this article is not liable for any side-effects such as taste bud explosion or onset of obesity. Please enjoy responsibly. *** You are not a real Aussie until you have sampled this testament to Australian Heritage. ****Suitable for: weddings, parties, professional networking events, impressing people, enjoying with friends and morning cravings. *****Boys trust me: this gets the girls every time.

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Changing Lenses By: Sally Morris

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isa O’Brien looks like just another one of your typical, everyday hard working Bond students. But secretly Lisa sees more than the usual set of eyes. Lisa’s story is unique. She spent the last 5 years travelling through over 30 countries. This was no Contiki tour. The courageous 25-year-old travelled 29 of these countries alone. During this time, Lisa’s hobby of photography developed into an art. “My dad was a professional photographer so I used to play with his film cameras when I was young. I bought a SLR when I was 18 to take travelling and just had fun with it.” Looking at Lisa’s photos makes you feel like you have seen more than one could ever imagine in a lifetime. Of all the countries she has travelled, Lisa says Morocco was one of her favourites. “It is an overload on your senses- the vibrant colours, the intense smell of spices,

the sound of bustling markets, prayers and musical instruments on the streets. It is all so raw that it makes you feel alive. It makes you question what is real in western society”. “These villages are not sustained by infrastructure, machinery and technology; they thrive on people, their bare hands, and the skills they have learnt through generations.” I asked Lisa to share some of her travel stories with me. She said the funniest may not be appropriate for publication, but still had some amazing memories to share. “We hired the cheapest car we could find in Marrakesh. We had about 1200 km to drive, and once on the highway we realised the car had a max speed of 60km per hour. We stopped in at Casablanca to swap the car, but first they

had to put the wheels from ours on the new one. After waiting an hour for them to swap all four wheels, we went to start the new car and nothing happened. So after another hour of trying to fix the new one, they put all four wheels back on the original, and off we drove at 60km per hour. In contrast, I have relaxed on yachts at the Monaco Gran Prix, flown in private aeroplanes and partied in London with 50 Cent. It’s funny how it all falls into place when you set off with no direction. You meet so many people when you are alone. I guess you have no choice.” Lisa has considered freelance photography, but only recently gave thought to the reality of travel writing. “It has crossed my mind many times as a distant dream… oh to work for Lonely Planet… but I never

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pursued it. Now that I have been back at Uni writing a lot, I am more comfortable with creative expression. I thought many times about selling freelance and am currently working on a portfolio.” Lisa has already planned her next adventure, starting in December when she graduates. She will spend one year travelling through India, Nepal, China, Tibet, Cambodia and Vietnam, and then is going to live and work in New York. Lisa’s love for travelling and eye for capturing artistic expression is sure to be appreciated. A hidden gem some may say, just waiting to be discovered. Photographs supplied by Lisa O’Brien. Opposite: (top) Lisa on one of her adventures (bottom) three ladies in Morocco. This page: (top) Friendly locals in Petra, Jordan (bottom) rug store in Morocco.

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Photography by Lisa Oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Brien

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Illegally Bond Vegas Night @ Donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s

Mid-Sem Bash

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Whitehouse

Mid-Sem Fiesta

Grudge Week

Palaver: Angels & Demons BAKED

Live nâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Loud

Bond World Cup Final

Pub Crawl

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Exec Drinks BAKED feature

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Havana Nights: 007 Cruise Royale

Frat Party

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Head to Head: Mac Vs PC It’s the debate that has divided techies, gamers and computer nerds since Steve Jobs co-founded Apple in ’76. Now everyday students find themselves embroiled in the battle of the laptop. Is it the Mac or PC that comes out on top? Journalism student and Mac loyalist Laura Bingham goes head to head with Law/Arts Student and PC loyalist Jacqui Ward to fight it out and get some answers. MAC - Once you go Mac you’ll never go back!

has of getting a virus as compared to a PC. Most viruses are made to target PCs as the MAC OS X operating system is highly secure and difficult to target.

I once pledged to never buy a Mac. I was a young and naïve PC girl. Tired and restless from the incessant cycle of my PC crashing and files sporadically disappearing - I found myself searching for something more. It was on that fateful day I found hope in the form of a Mac specialist –they converted me and now I will never look back.

Time now for a little bit of vanity. Operating systems and technical mumbo jumbo aside – Macs are pretty. With a backlit keyboard and unibody case, how could you resist its sleek design? The Apple logo is so enticing, you just want to eat it.

The first Macintosh hit the shelves in 1984 rivaling the PC empire. But with a price tag of $2,495 USD (baring in mind inflation and the exchange rate) not every one could access the latest in computer innovation. A lot has changed since then with the oversized beige Mac 128K being consistently updated to the sleek and more affordable range available to consumers today. It has been Apple’s innovation that has seen advances in Mac technology complimented by continual price decreases. This has made the Mac more accessible to the average consumer – no longer preferencing employees of multimedia industries.

and more complicated to navigate – all it takes is a good few hours to familiarise yourself with the interface to realise how simple it really is. So much so that as Windows continues to upgrade, they are starting to adopt so much of what makes a Mac great. Apple’s innovation is too hard for the good ol’ folks at Windows to resist that they resort to copycat tactics in an effort to match Apple innovation. Well I guess they say ‘if you can’t innovate you may as well imitate’ – but it’s never quite as good as the original.

While some PC loyalists argue the Mac is not user-friendly

Something to mention would be the very low chance a Mac 22

Yes, PC loyalists are probably scoffing at my bias, but let me tell you my former PC cost me only slightly less than my Mac. Yes, I may have saved a hundred dollars or so but that heap of junk PC lasted barely a year before it decided to crash – and before that it was about thirty times slower than my 12-month-old Macbook. Not to mention it takes up to five minutes to reboot. Of course, the Mac comes with its fair share of flaws, such as the incredibly high cost of fixing or replacing parts, and the oh so irritating spinning beach ball of death: but all in all the positives outweigh the negatives.

BAKED OPINION BAKED feature PC - Once you go Mac you’ll always go back (to PC)! Well… that’s my experience. After about fifteen years of typing away on my Windows 95, 97, up until Windows 7, I hadn’t even heard of a Mac until I came to Bond (I know, Perth people, hey?) Sure they’re a bit lighter, a bit thinner, but after lugging around my PC for two years my arm muscles are quite toned. As for vanity, well I’m very content with my lime green Dell – it beats those horrible plastic covers I’ve seen on Macs in tutes. I was never anti-Mac until recently. I was always open to the possibility that my next laptop would, in fact, be one. I was also happy to realise that it may take me a while to get myself oriented with the user interface – and I don’t think either Mac or PC wins out on this point, I know my Grandma is still struggling with the concept of the ‘start’ button. But that bloody ball of death. I can’t remember a time I used a Mac in the Bat Labs when my program didn’t freeze. From my own experience, in terms of functioning and freezing, PCs have this debate down pat. Two weeks ago, I waited 30 minutes for the Mac to log off, to no avail. Sure, I felt bad, but unplugging that thing from the source felt like the punishment it deserved.

but I have two points of rebuttal. One, being that a smart PC user should be able to avoid viruses in the first place. Secondly, and more importantly, I’d bet you William Shatner’s weight in gold there will be just as many Mac viruses out there in ten years’ time. Finally, and perhaps most annoyingly, is that the ‘delete’ button is missing. Picky I may be, but how hard is it to put an extra button a key-board?

I appreciate the fact there are less viruses that target Macs 23

I am starting to understand why Macs are so much smaller/lighter – they’re missing half the functions! And don’t get me started on right clicking… So I’ve outlined why Macs really aren’t worth the money, or reputation. It’s a relatively unimportant debate, yet an incredibly sensitive one, and I’m happy to fight for Team PC!

A traveller’s journey to her nationalistic heart

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By Shannan Smith MY GRANDAD is probably one of the proudest Aussies you could ever meet. He served in the Defence Force, he loves a good barbie (and a good beer) and beholds the Pacific with sense of awe that never seems to wane. I’m a pacifist (or an idealist, depending on your point of view). I’m a vegetarian. And, given the choice, I’d take a snow-capped mountain over the sand and surf any day of the week. Every time I see Grandad he tells me how thankful I should be to live in the ‘greatest country in the world’. Every time he says it I smile guiltily hoping I can conceal my expatriate ambitions. For seventeen years I believed I could pack my bags, board a plane and trade ‘girt by sea’ for girt by Paris, Berlin and Roma without a second thought. Then I tried. O.K, I kind of tried. I knew it was a temporary separation, not a divorce. But I still didn’t expect to want to end my cultural affair and race back to monogamy before my six weeks were up. I was born to

be an emigrant, right? Destined for those distant lands of romance and culture? Not to suggest that “Kath and Kim” and Coffs Harbour’s Big Banana are any less admirable national emblems than Michelangelo or the Colosseum - the latter of which stood a mere five minute stroll from my hotel romano.

When in Rome Rome is without a doubt one of the most magnificent cities in the world. There is something truly magical about dining outside the Pantheon, climbing the Vatican dome and tossing a coin into the trevi. To visit Florence is to visit the nursery of the Renaissance – and to comprehend why it was born. But for all the history, all the glamour and all the glory, there are (at least) two things the Havaianaloving sunburnt country does better than its Prada-clad counterpart: implement road rules and legislate against smoking. Supposedly, Italy 24

does have speed limits, and strictly enforced speed limits at that. So you can discount the following as the subjective ramblings of a confused and nervous foreigner if you wish. But pedestrian crossings? They have no meaning. Traffic lanes? Apparently unnecessary - who needs them when bus drivers have learnt to overtake in spaces Cooper Minis shouldn’t fit through? And 50km/h in town centres? Please! And while we’re on the topic of pleading, let’s talk about cigarette smoke. Will somebody please tell the Italians it causes cancer? They obviously missed the memo. Every city, every street, every bus stop, outside every train station (somebody saw sense and banned it inside), there is cigarette smoke clouding the air. I get it, really I do. Waiting for public transport is cold (in Italy) and boring (everywhere). But couldn’t we all just go out and a buy a newspaper? Or an espresso? Or both? According to an article in Italy Magazine, Italian Health Min-

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ister Ferruccio Fazio acknowledged in 2009 that some 80,000 Italians are dying every year from cigarette related conditions. That is more than four times Australia’s 19,000 victims. I mean, each to their own, but when you go out to explore the ‘city of love’ and return to your hotel feeling as though you’ve just kissed a guy who smoked a pack and forgot to take a mint, things have gone too far. Thank you kindly Tobacco and Other Smoking Products Act 2008 (Qld) - and your counterparts across the border and the Nullarbor.

Guten Tag! The train trip across Italy’s national border, through Austria and into Germany takes you about 661km north on the map and ten to 15 degrees Celsius south on the thermometer. Pleased to meet you -12°C; at noon, while I’m wearing an Aussie ‘winter’ jacket and boots clearly purchased for their aesthetic appeal. Now, I’d always thought I hated being hot. When I was younger I’d sit inside all day and look at the pool through the window because the journey from my front door to the backyard simply proved too much to bear. I wore quarter-length pants in the Swiss spring. And yes, that attracted a few funny glances

from locals as I tramped through two-inch high snow. But this was really cold. On a mission to find the tour bus to take me through Berlin, I lost feeling in my fingers, toes and just about every other part of my body ten minutes into the search. I hung out in a fruit store with a guy who couldn’t speak English because he owned a heater. Point taken? When I landed in Sydney, it was liberating not to have to flinch when the airport doors opened and exhilarating to see a sky of deep azure. Not grey, not white, not babyblue, but azure. Real blue. I almost wanted to promise never to complain about the sweltering Aussie summer again. And my days of professing adoration of the winter chill are certainly behind me. As are my days of complaining about our cab fares. Yes, our taxi meters seem to tick over a little faster than they used to do. But what would you say if your next cab driver tried to charge you 600 Koruna for a 3km ride? That’s €24. $32.45 AUD. Apparently that’s what they pay in the Czech Republic – or at least what the tourists pay. But is that really any better? Last time I checked, we didn’t alter our prices based on residency status. Nor do we find it necessary to welcome visitors by pointing out where they shouldn’t go at night if they’d prefer not to be robbed – but that’s a whole other story. They say you don’t appreciate what you have until you don’t have it anymore; or to avoid that cringe-worthy cliché: Sie begreifen nicht, was Sie ha25

ben, bis Sie ohne es gegangen. (No I’m not fluent in German, but Google Translate is...) And you know what? They’re right. I may be an idealist who likes to think we can solve the world’s issues with words, not weapons, but I still feel an overwhelming sense of pride every ANZAC Day. I am a vegetarian. But there is something about a barbie with family and friends that you just can’t replicate in any other setting. I do love a snow-capped mountain, but on the odd occasion I think I would choose Bondi, even if it is something different. So next time Grandad tells me I should be grateful to live in the ‘greatest country on Earth’, I’ll tell him I know and actually mean it.

Opposite page: Classic Aussie beach page: Above (top): Shannan in Rome, This Italy; (Bottom) Shannan feeling the cold in Germany

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My Story... An emotional tell all story about Tiffany Breed’s battle with Anorexia Nervosa.

Anorexia Nervosa. It sounds terrible, it sounds like a nightmare, and it is. It is at the back of most teenagers’ minds; especially when the subject of weight loss is mentioned. But still no one ever thinks it can happen to them … but it does. This nightmare does happen and it happened to me. The truth confronted me after nagging and cajoling by family and friends alerting me I had a problem. So on February 2, 2011, I decided to seek help for what I thought was a simple eating disorder, brought on by anxiety and the need for perfection, order and control in my life. On the recommendation of a friend, I made an appointment at a community based crisis centre on the Gold Coast. I arrived at the centre and signed a form (which I stupidly didn’t

read properly) and was ushered into a room. There I was asked a few questions, like; “Why do you think you came to see us?” and “Do you ever think of hurting yourself?” I was then taken into another room and weighed. The scales read just 33 kilograms. I came to the realisation that this was way too thin and that this was of course, the basis for me seeking help in the first place. A psychologist with an extremely nasty attitude then had a chat to me. She asked me further questions, and then announced that I would be going to hospital. I began to worry and said that I would like to talk to my mother first, and would call back later. But no, they wanted me there straight away! She said, “You are going to the hospital and you are going alone.” Just like that! I walked out saying that I would

see my mother first. Mum said it would be okay, that we would organise all this ourselves, which we did. We had previously made appointments to see a GP, dietician and psychologist. That night I had the worst nightmare. I dreamt that I was being dragged, against my will to the hospital, crying and resisting, and no one would help me. The nightmare was about to become a reality. Although we had organised everything and my mother assured me everything would be okay, those papers I had signed gave them the right to take me involuntarily to the hospital. Mum suggested I go to the hospital on my own accord, and although upset, I did. Lucky I had gone voluntarily, as apparently, not even five minutes after we arrived at the hospital, police scanned our street and shortly after, ambulance officers arrived at our front door asking for me. We waited in emergency for six hours before I was seen. A lovely doctor gave me an examination and I was put in a bed in the emergency ward. It was there I realised what wonderful, caring friends I have. I had friends popping in after uni, work and even a friend who looked half asleep (she was), coming to comfort me. Mum was told by the doctors I would need to stay overnight and since we had private health insurance, I could be transferred to a private hospital in the morning. I was hooked up to a drip with potassium. It was terrible, as the only bed available was in

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BAKED through this difficult time.

the respiratory ward. There were a lot of very sick, elderly patients coughing and wheezing constantly. Mum stayed for as long as she could but when she left I broke down and cried myself to sleep. Mum arrived as soon as allowed the next morning. I met her downstairs and we had breakfast. Some people from the hospital’s mental health care facility came in and asked to speak to me alone. They asked questions very similar to that asked the previous day; “Why are you thin?” and “Do you think you are fat?” They then had a chat to Mum alone, asking her about the history of my weight loss. They then said they would go and confer with their manager and come back with a verdict as to my treatment plan. A psychiatrist came in later and announced they were placing an ITO on me. An ITO is an Involuntary Treatment Order, facilitated by the Queensland Mental Health Act (2000). They told me I was to stay in hospital for an undisclosed amount of time. Apparently my potassium levels were so low I could have a heart attack at any time. I was devastated with this news and felt like my life was over. I went through so many emotions, from worry to anger; in fact at one stage I was preparing to call a leading current affairs show to have a go at the health system and the way in which I had been treated.

Before I could eat, I was told I would have to wait until the dietician came to see me as I was to be put on a special diet. I even had to decline the meal that was brought for me from the kitchen. Mum spoke to one of the nurses who organised for me to go into a much sunnier room. It was almost dinner time when the dietician came in and spoke about my new diet to regain weight. He said if I wanted to, Mum could bring in a few extra snacks like chocolate but it all had to be recorded. However, this wasn’t right, the nurses were given strict instructions for my diet and had a constant battle with the kitchen staff who kept getting it wrong. I was also put on nurse’s watch 24 hours a day for the next two days. Although the nurses were lovely, caring and really empathetic, I had lost the last of my privacy. I was told what to eat. I had someone come with me to the bathroom and shower and most of the staff did not trust me... apparently some patients exercised in the shower. I was to be weighed every Monday and Thursday. I knew I would be in for a while. The weekend went fast, especially with my friends and family at my side from 10am until 8pm and my laptop to keep me occupied. I received word from my Uni, from lecturers who were so supportive, that they would do anything they could to help me

Tuesday morning, six days after arriving at the hospital, my doctor came in and told me that my bloodwork was fine and my weight was at an acceptable (albeit low), level – I could go home. Not so fast ... because of the ITO my condition was no longer just medical. There was now a whole team of allied health professionals who would be involved in my fate. By the time my family arrived, my section of the ward was swarming with activity. The mental health professionals stepped in and I was no longer going home. I was confused, let down and upset once again. As my family left the ward, they saw my doctor and ward manager huddled together. The nurse manager announced, “We are moving Tiffany to the Psychiatric ward.” Mum said she felt like her legs were going to give way and my Aunt said, “You just finished telling Tiffany she would be in this ward and now you’re doing that?” One of the nurses said it meant the hospital was officially full. My doctor fought for me and told my family the Psych ward would be the worst place for me. My Nanna piped up about the availability of beds at another local hospital. Mum was ready to call local and national media. Eventually the doctor called my mum, dad and aunt to come up to my ward. They bolted to my room where they found out the news. “Mum, they’re moving me to the Young Adult Ward at a recently built, but local hospital, I’m so happy.” Tiffany Breed is now back at Bond, healthy and happy and ready to kickstart uni life again.

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“SAINTLY SOJOURNS”

By: Emma Devlin

Can you say that your prayers brought a dying woman back to health? Is your mission in life to care for the poor, orphaned and aged? Do you claim to be a woman of utter compassion and goodwill? No? Well, Mother Mary MacKillop could and, for good reason, she became Australia’s first saint last year. Sainthood might be out of the question for the rest of us, but the rising popularity of travel’s new best mate, “voluntourism”, offers us all a chance to make a difference to the world and ourselves. The traditional leisure and pleasure holiday takes a backseat here, with several options to get you feeling a little bit saintly.

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When life seems over-

whelming and it feels like everything has grown out of proportion, some time with Mother Nature’s largest land animal might put things back in perspective. Sri Lanka’s Pinnawala Elephant Orphanage houses around 80 elephants in need of rescue, rehabilitation, or simply a bit of TLC. The volunteer work is minimal but those with sensitive sniffers should be warned: daily cleaning of the open sheds means getting up close and personal with elephant poo. Volunteers can share an afternoon river dip with these uber-relaxed creatures at the completion of daily chores. Having already ticked off all the countries on her must-see list, 34-year-old Niki Pearson felt that she wanted to give something back to the global community. Her love of four-footed friends led her to spend 3 weeks living with a host family and five other volunteers at Pinnawala early this year. Apart from the obvious appeal of spending her weekdays with the gentlest of giants, Niki was attracted to the work-play balance offered by the program. Weekends were free to take in the temples, fortresses and monasteries that the cultural triangle of Sri Lanka has to offer, and allowed for plenty of time to ponder life’s big questions. “You have time to reflect on things, which I think is really important,” Niki says. “It’s so much more satisfying and gratifying than a typical holiday.”

Volunteers can stay from two weeks to one year and package prices include accommodation, meals and airport transfers, with profits channelled in to elephant rehabilitation. As much as her volunteering helped the orphanage, Niki believes she was the ultimate winner in this equation. “It probably made a bigger difference to me than it did to them. I came out of the experience with a new appreciation for life…I got so much out of it,” she says.

epal offers more than the world’s highest peak – it’s also a top destination for travellers who want to make a difference to the lives of school kids. The Volunteer Nepal organisation offers programs at 15 primary schools in the Ramechhap district, where volunteers can spend up to five months living with a host family and teaching local children.

You might play games with kindergartners, or join in karate lessons with primary school students. While others jet-setted to exotic destinations for sun and relaxation, 20-year-old Sophia Grundy used her most recent university holidays to step outside her comfort zone in Nepal. “I could have gone to Bali and gone surfing, but I’d saved this money and I felt I had to do something different with it,” she explains. Sophia shared a four-bedroom house with seven members of her host family and their 12 foster children. Her experience of a life so far removed from her own has taught her not to take the little things for granted. “These kids have nothing in comparison to us,” she says. “They wouldn’t even know what a laptop or iPod is, and yet, they’re the happiest people alive.”

BAKED FEATURE BAKED feature Though hers was a positive experience, Sophia advises interested volun-tourists to do some pre-trip research. Of the fee she paid to participate in the program, her host family received only a small percentage and much of the remainder went towards administration fees. If planning is not high on your list of priorities, a cheaper and equally beneficial option is to arrive independently and offer your services to the locals, who are always looking for help. After two weeks of leading Year 9 English lessons, Sophia says the greatest reward of the trip was observing the improvements in her students. “It was the best thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. I know that they learnt from me, but I also learnt so much from them,” she says.

But saintly acts don’t always

have to be about someone or something else. While it doesn’t quite qualify as voluntourism, there is much to be said for a holiday with personal development in mind.

As our lives get faster, busier and more complicated, it’s important to step away from stressors and take time for ourselves. 28-year-old Bridget Doherty knew she needed to do something different with an unexpected three days off early this year. Work had been frantic, stress levels were high, and her love-life was in a shambles. “I just needed to get out of town and have a bit of time with no distractions to really think about what I wanted,” she says. A spontaneous decision to buy an online mystery deal culminated in a two-night stay in Kuranda which Bridget says was the most cathartic break she has ever taken. Less than an hour’s drive from Cairns or Port Douglas, the quiescence of Kuranda Rethought, and thought some more,” she says. “It’s good for the mind, body and soul, and for working out what you want in life.”

The success of Elizabeth Gilbert’s novel of self-discovery, “Eat, Pray, Love” suggests that a solo escape might be the key to contentment.

BAKED Nestled within the cool rainforest of the Cairns Coastal Highlands, these laidback-luxe bungalows are just like home with benefits: two freshwater pools, a cocktail bar and award-winning restaurant are at your service. A complete absence of itinerary or travel companion left Bridget time for the usuallyguilty pleasure of solitary rejuvenation. “It was all I did. Reflected and and for working out what you want in life.” So, while we can’t all be Australia’s next miracle-workers, it is possible to take the sort of holiday even Mother MacKillop would be proud of. Whether it’s to make a difference to local people, animals, the environment, schoolchildren, or yourself, this new breed of tourism offers a little step towards sainthood for all of us.

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The Death of Customer Service

Call it what you will, but sometimes it’s hard to imagine the words ‘customer’ and ‘service’ go in the same sentence. Do they really care if you want fries with that? Is your call really important to them? Milly Arsic investigates... So it’s true. Like the days of chivalry, customer service has come and gone, a fashion faded with the season. It’s funny, really, all this talk of giving the customer what they want. We’re a pretty unsatisfied bunch, expecting a grain of gold from a pinch of salt. But what kind of service should we be served on the side?

change and she tosses coins down next to my hand. I pick up the pieces and practically play her part, saying my ‘thank you’ for a job certainly not well done. Sure, I ordered my food to go, but that shouldn’t upsize the lack of service.

Let me introduce you to a typical shopping centre. Feeling peckish? Welcome to our generic takeaway store. Now here’s a place where customer service has well and truly had its day. What with flipping burgers and making fries, who has the time to genuinely care in the food industry? My pet hate is being served by those who bring their problems to the workplace. What happened to turning your frown upside down, if even for just a moment?

A personal favourite of mine is customer representatives who subtly insult you. Enter Exhibit A. In a formal dress shop, I attempt to place a dress back on its mannequin with no luck. Random bits of string curl around the doll, the dress awkwardly fitted backwards on its shoulders. Hearing chuckling from behind, I turn to face a stout dinosaur of a woman who exclaims, “Well dear, you certainly wouldn’t get a job here!” I’m sorry – was I testing out my retail skills? I felt like replying, “Well dear, you certainly won’t get a sale here!”

A girl who looks as though she’d rather be a million places instead of here tosses my order onto the counter, the contents spilling from the bag. ‘How are you?’ generates no enthusiasm, it is purely mechanical - a pantomime between buyer and seller. I hold out my hand for some

Forget bad manners for a moment. Step into a retail store. Now, I have been just as overwhelmed as I have been underwhelmed. A chirpy girl greets me and proceeds to tell me how beautiful I am, complimenting me from head to toe. I am literally dizzy from her words. Like this will guarantee a sale. 32

No one has told this poor girl at some stage, too much is simply too much. When I leave the store with a bag, she actually turns to me, eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, you actually bought something?” Thoughts rush wildly through my mind. Was I not supposed to? Did I miss something? I’ve been manipulated. Clearly, casting doubt in your customers is not such a great strategy either.

Next up, the good ol’ grocery store. It’s particularly more exciting when you deal with an accusatory checkout chick, just like my mum had to. She had bought a bag of cashews and found out they were rotten. Going back to complain, she was blamed for eating half the bag (not an all unfair assumption, considering they blow up the bags with air anyway). “Why would I eat half a bag of rotten cashews?” she mused. After encouraging Miss Smartass to weigh the bag, the girl, at least, apologised.

BAKED FEATURE BAKED feature Heading into upscale brand stores, I am often surprised at the poor level of service. It’s as if the representatives can sniff your ‘student’ status, assuming you have no cash to splurge. I remember (being much younger, of course) pretending my best friend and I were Austrian princesses in disguise. We would sample anything and everything, talking loudly so the representatives would hear we were loaded. They didn’t buy it. It wasn’t just the fact that we were tiny and had fake accents that convinced them. It was this inconceivably prejudicial perception against young people. Apparently, it’s acceptable to check bags twice and make young people wait for ten minutes before you served them. It’s also fine to assume they cannot do the math and doublecharge them. Let’s announce a toast to stereotypes. It seems lack is the new black. Lack of manners, enthusiasm and trust. Consumers should stand up and voice their concerns. The problem is that I sometimes feel sorry for the reps. I didn’t have the heart to tell the Hispanic barmaid it was one cup of Bacardi with two lemons, not two cups with five lemons. I waited on the line until the man from my phone company who kept calling me a ‘good citizen’ put me on hold before I disconnected his call. I apologised for mistaking a Scottish woman for an Irishman. I guess we don’t always know what’s going on in the lives of others. Although it doesn’t

excuse rudeness, we should exercise standards of decency towards others. You never know when you will be in their shoes.

“It seems lack is the new black.” In my experience, customer service is an art. You package the product and its value with your smile and passion. According to the TARP study (1980) commissioned by the White House Office of Consumer Affairs, one unhappy customer will tell nine others and 90% of customers with poor experiences do not return. A further 13% of people tell at least 20 others. That’s 20 less customers, 20 less sales, 20 less bottom lines. It’s funny how a minor, relatively unnoticed act has the power to make or break success. You have to be good at what you do and enjoy it. As for me, a fulltime student and casual employee, I’ve recently applied to be a Mystery Shopper. So stay on alert – I may just come to a store near you.

NB: The logos above do not reflect the author’s beliefs in the level

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Top Ten Worst Movies We’ve all seen the ‘great’ movies like Titanic. Some of us have also been unlucky enough to sit through terrible films. But what are the 10 worst? After doing some research, and sitting through countless trailers (she didn’t have the guts to watch the actual films), Jacqui Ward compiled her top (or bottom) 10 worst films of all time, in no particular order.

Gigli

This film attempted to capture the public’s fascination with ‘Bennifer’ – aka Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez. Good in theory, but by the time the film was released, the public infatuation had waned to quite an extent. Not only this, but the film was a shocker – the film managed to win six ‘Razzie Awards’ (to complete the ‘Razzie Grand Slam’) - Worst Picture, Worst Actor, Worst Actress, Worst Director, Worst Screenplay, and Worst Screen Couple. And if you can actually properly pronounce the title, I won’t make you sit through it!

From Justin to Kelly

Yep, we’re talking about a movie starring the winner and runner-up from the first season of American Idol. Admittedly, I don’t mind Kelly Clarkson, but a fictional love story between the two, after they meet on spring break – really?! One film critic summed it up humourlessly well: “it’s like Grease: The Next Generation acted out by the food-court staff at SeaWorld.” Ouch!

Plan 9 from Outer Space

This film makes every worst-film list, and frequently tops them. A 1959 sci-fi film, the plot line had potential. But when you use old footage of a deceased actor (Bela Lugosi) and got another actor to play the rest of the role (note: the actor looked absolutely nothing like Lugosi), there seems to be problems with attention to detail. Add this to terrible special effects (maybe excusable for the ‘50s), and you’ve got an epic dud. Surprisingly, 66% of reviews on popular critic website Rotten Tomatoes gave it a positive review. However this seems to be because the movie is so terrible, it’s basically It’s a fairly recent one, and who knew amusing as comedy. Honourable Mention: anything with Hollywood starlet Jessica While it does frequent worst-movie Alba could be this terrible. Just look at lists, it didn’t quite make the cut the film’s poster, a terrible remake of into this one. However purely bethe infamous 1980 John Lennon-Yoko Ono picture. cause of the title, this film deserves With unfunny punchlines and undeveloped and a mention: “Santa Claus Conquers unnecessary plot points, it is a difficult one to the Martians.” It really does sound watch. It terms of gross revenue, however, this film like a terrible plotline just waiting doubled its production costs. Now I’m worried this to happen. says something about humanity….

Good Luck Chuck

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Glitter

Ah, Mariah Carey. While I’m glad to see you seem to have got your act together and everything, this film is unfortunately neither forgettable nor forgivable. Carey plays a mixed-race struggling singer in the 80s, with a bad childhood and bad fashion sense to match. In Carey’s defence, she has hinted that the end product was not what she had in mind at all, but at the same time her acting was widely panned, one reviewer stating, “when she tries for an emotion—any emotion—she looks as if she’s lost her car keys.” To be honest this makes me want to watch it!

Mac and Me

I’d never heard of this movie, and feel a bit guilty giving it any more publicity. Why? It was basically a vehicle of a McDonalds advertisement, hidden within an 1980s film. It had nearly the same plotline as ET, and was released a few years after, hoping to draw in audiences. There are two keywords to this film: “Product Placement.” Ronald McDonald even won the Razzie Award for ‘Worst New Star’ after his 5 minute dance in the movie, set in (you guessed it) McDonalds. Coca-Cola also got quite a mention, with company executives even starring. I’ve no idea if it worked for product sales, if anything, such a film would turn me off giving those clowns+ (ok, pun intended) any money.

The Room

Out of all of these listed films, this is the only one that I want to see. If there’s ever been a bad movie made good, The Room is it. A 2003 Independent film, the film is infamous for its plotholes, inconsistencies and terrible acting. My favourite critic quoted, “You know how if you watch The Godfather, every scene is a masterpiece? It’s the same with The Room: every scene is perfectly bad.” However it’s become an absolutely huge cult hit, with it still being screened as a novelty occasionally in cinemas. I’ll watch it if you will!

Ballistic: Ecks v Sever Lucy Liu and Antonio Banderas – recipe for success! I think not. Usually bad films are somewhat funny, as seen by a number of films in this list. Ballistic is that bad, it’s not even funny. It is the worst reviewed movie of all time on Rotten Tomatoes due to the massive plotholes and reliance on its stars to bring the dodgy script to life. While it makes you feel a bit sorry for Liu and Banderas, it does make you ask why on Earth they took the parts in the first place.

Showgirls

Basically the story of a promising young Hollywood star (Elizabeth Berkley) who turned into a stripper/slut in the hopes that her sexuality would win the world over. Instead, audiences saw too much of everything, and Berkley’s career never recovered. Future releases of the movie had most of the gratuitous, unnecessary sex scenes and nudity cut out and replaced with plot lines. This suggests that there were no real plotlines to begin with, other than her being a stripper, of course. Hate to say it, but it’s a cult classic.

Battlefield Earth

John Travolta in dreadlocks. Do I care to continue? Based on a novel written by Ron L Hubbard, founder of Scientology, has all kinds of subliminal messages... I think you get the picture. Not only was it a complete flop, but producers got themselves into all kinds of trouble with the law – the FBI investigated them for fraud after they overstated their budget. After winning 9 Razzies, including Worst Film of the past 25 years… just avoid this one.

Freedom of SpeechIs it really so free? By Lauren Kennard

Every year on April 25th, and November 11th, the country pauses. If we are in an opportune place, we will gaze up at a flag, perhaps partaking in part of a memorial ceremony. There may even be a laying of wreaths, treks to Turkey and rising before the crack of dawn to commemorate what servicemen and women. They fought for our country and our freedom. These include freedom of religion, speech and liberty of person. I wonder, are we truly a testament to the sacrifice and bravery of these soldiers? Frankly, they would be reeling in their graves from the blatant undermining of these fundamental rights. The rights that they fought and died for. Is our freedom of speech really so free? I think not. Some of the places that claim to be the pinnacle of freedom revel in repression. We condemn places that violate fundamental rights, yet we ourselves tread all over what our soldiers fought for. This is hypocrisy. We might not be as

obvious as other places, but if we keep continuing the way that we are, before we know it, George Orwell’s infamous Thought Police will be knocking on our doors because they don’t like what we have to say, and we won’t even stop it.

“Freedom is the right to say 2 + 2 = 4”. If there truly was freedom of speech, surely there would be no line? What is next? I wish I could say that I was merely being self absorbed, but the sobering truth is that such constraints to freedom of speech exist all over the country. Political correctness forces pre-school teachers to abandon much loved nursery rhymes such as ‘Ba Ba Black Sheep’ lest it be racist. The new lyrics are ‘Ba Ba Rainbow Sheep’. I am sure this will be changed soon, lest it infers 36

hat the sheep is in fact homosexually inclined. The Bible society has been banned from handing out Bibles at citizenship ceremonies in case it offends other religions. I think they forget to consider the part where the recipients of the Bibles can politely decline the Bible. How long will it be that we will not be able to sing Christmas carols in the street, and nativity scenes will be banned? And this doesn’t only apply to the taboos of sexuality and religion either. In Britain, gingerbread men are referred to as ‘gingerbread persons’ and people make national news for smoking pages of the Koran. It is their right to do so and I am sure if it was Harry Potter, they wouldn’t make national news. Sure it is stupid (and probably bad for your health). But it sure isn’t illegal. This is political correctness gone insane, political correctness that with the help of us ‘sheep’ who enforce it so willingly is interfering with the fundamental rights of the

BAKED OPINION BAKED feature average citizen of a western nation. Shame on us. Shame on the lot of us.

is making you watch, no one is making you click on those sites. This ban is censorship, which is not ok. It is a policy I am sure that as the soldiers which reflects those in China, in Gallipoli were being slaugh- Malaysia and Saudi Arabia. tered they didn’t give a stuff Soldiers that the Australian what colour the damn sheep Labor Party are undermining was. I am sure that as the sol- with this preposterous policy. diers today dodge explosives planted by the enemies where On an international scale, they least expect it, they don’t freedom of speech is being really care about whether Bi- undermined as well. A radical bles are being handed around example of this would be that at citizenship ceremonies. I of Holocaust Deniers. Now I bet that they have a Gideon’s am partially Jewish, and nothBible in their front pocket and ing pisses me off more than that they are praying their a good ol’ Holocaust Denier. asses off. I know I sure as hell Partially because there is so would be. much evidence that it happened that it would be idiotic Those who have advocated to deny. And partially because for the implementation of it is to support their someSteven Conroy’s internet filter what pathetic anti-Semitic aren’t much better. Fools like agendas, not any logically the advocates of the Family formed argument. Yet I do First Party who claim this will not believe that these people protect the children clearly should be locked up. Currenthaven’t seen much of what is ly in places such as France, actually on the blacklist. And which is allegedly the home those that have will say that of freedom of speech, peoit should be banned anyway ple are locked up for saying because it is disgusting. the Holocaust didn’t happen. Locked up for ‘thought crime’. George Orwell’s novel, “I am sure this will be In 1984, the protagonist says changed soon, lest it “Freedom is the right to say infers that the sheep 2 + 2 = 4”. Just because ‘2’ means different things to difis in fact homosexu- ferent people does not mean that they should be punished. ally inclined. “ I am not sympathising with There is a particularly poign- their cause. As far as I am ant episode of Law and Order aware, stupidity is not a crime. SVU entitled ‘Obscene’ that We talk about all these rights provides a good summation of the point. The protagonist we are given on a platter that people in some countries are switches off a radio show dying for to this day, yet we with obscene content as the work to suppress them. remark is made, “No one is making you listen.” No one 37

We draw lines in sand that people ‘are not to cross’ and when they do, we nail them on a cross. We accuse them of stepping over a line that shouldn’t be there in the first place. Lest we forget? I think some of us have already forgotten. We need to stand up for our rights before it is too late, and we actually lose them for good. We can sit and continue to be sheep, and conform. It is the easy way out and at the moment these violations have little effect but as Edmund Burke said, “All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing”. I think it is time for us to be black sheep and do something now to preserve a right that may be gone later.

Internet killed the Record Label (we can’t rewind, we’ve gone too far). By: Petter Clayton It is a well-known fact (or at least I think it is) that a woman had to pay millions of dollars in compensation because of six songs that she made available online on a P2P site. But, surely there are better options for them. They can’t sue everyone, and if the woman declares bankruptcy, then they don’t get a cent anyway. Why bother? I can’t blame the music companies for wanting to do this. This woman (as well as millions of other people) was aiding in the theft of music. Downloading is theft, there is no denying this; but to what extent? “You wouldn’t steal a handbag. You wouldn’t steal a car. [Blah, blah, blah].” We’ve all seen those friggin’ ads at the start of movies (ironically, they are not in the stolen films, which makes the illegal films more enticing). However, they are (I’d hope) true. You wouldn’t steal a car or a hand bag, and you are scum if you do. Stealing is bad. But, unlike the car or the handbag, there

are positives to ‘acquiring’ music and DVDs. I love music. I listen to music constantly, I love discovering new bands and I also download music.

Torrents or similar P2P software applications. (NB: I flatly refuse to give Steve Jobs and the tools at Apple any more money, and on principle will not download the music from iTunes). Thus, I resort to the latter option. Whilst I don’t, in theory, pay for my music (from traditional standpoints), I do support the artists. I buy merchandise from their websites, tickets to their shows and I introduce my friends to their music, thus enlarging their fan base.

I will, straight from the getgo, explain why I download music. Have you heard of the band Anime Fire, the band A Bullet for Pretty Boy, or the band Prepared Like a Bride? I wouldn’t think so. They are difficult to come across, partly because they are hardcore death metal outfits, and partly because they are up-andcoming bands. They don’t release CDs at every HMV or JB HiFi. There are only two options to attain the music of such obscure bands: iTunes and downloading via 38

I don’t immediately pay for the music, but I do pay indirectly. I will also, if I like the band, purchase their CD when I can. It’s better quality, and there is something intrinsically better when you hold a CD in your hand (and not on an iPod or external hard drive). The same applies with DVDs. I watch a tonne of British comedy, which is either not released in Australia, or very difficult to get. I stream QI and Mock the Week and Never Mind the Buzzcocks. It’s just easier. However, I have a

BAKED OPINION BAKED feature tall collection of DVDs, such as every release of Family Guy and American Dad, and others. There is nothing wrong with downloading SOME of your goods (I’d almost encourage it). If you can’t easily get something, then take the easy route until the other alternative arises. If I have downloaded an album or show, and I see it in a retail outlet six-months down the track, I’ll buy it immediately. However, I’m not going to wait two or three years for it to be released in Australia before I buy it. I want to enjoy it now. I am merely trying before I buy (almost like listening to a CD in store before purchase). Music companies fail to see this. The Internet is their greatest marketing tool ever. Just because it exists, and there is an avenue to attain free goods, doesn’t mean that people will all do it. I say this to the record companies: “Take it like a man, and suck it up. You’ve had it pretty good so far.” People will download, but also purchase. There are many options for record companies: Release a free low-quality edition of the music, or even half of an album. Then, have people pay for the better quality or complete record. Radiohead instigated a pay-what-youwant scheme, and managed to make a profit. In The Times, London, it was reported the average price purchased was £4.00, with only one-third of

people downloading for free. Prince gave out his album Planet Earth for free in the UK, and sold out each of his 21 gigs. However, before the lynchmob, pitchforks and torches come out, I must say there is nothing entirely wrong with my actions. There are a plethora of alternatives that exist in which a person doesn’t pay for music (of any file for that matter). There is Grooveshark,

which is essentially an online iPod, except you don’t actually install the music yourself. You search an artist, then add them to a playlist. Voila, immediate enjoyment of unpaid music. Every single TV show is available on SideReel or Megavideo, and available in 72 minute chunks of happiness. What is the difference between downloading a TV show via a torrent, and streaming it online.? Aside from a file on your computer,

the difference is negligible. The same applies with music. I can’t download a concert ticket (and if I could I wouldn’t). Music sales may be the bread and butter of the industry; but for the most part, artists see very little of it. Why should I give $30 to some fat-cat in a suit so he can light his cigar with the dollar notes? I’d rather show my appreciation in person, screaming lyrics in a band t-shirt amongst other sweaty

fans. To me, that is a much more satisfying outcome for the bands. People like me are despised by record labels. I am essentially groping their wife and using their children as a foot rest. However, the music industry simply needs to adapt to technology. Downloading music is not killing music; it is just killing record companies. They should invest in market research and

Life Lessons One student’s wisdom on the lessons of university. By: Angela Glinderman I never thought Psychology was for me. When I first enrolled at Bond a few years ago, I was an impatient, strong-willed and rather outspoken teenager with no idea what I wanted in life (indeed, I still might be). I didn’t exactly see myself as psychologist material. I did, on the other hand, think a lot. When I went through my first serious relationship breakup, I asked myself: Why do people fall in and out of love? When I sat my QCS tests, I wondered: How do some people cope so well under pressure? And, most relevant to me at sixteen, what on earth motivates young people to form cliques and copy each other? I felt drawn to Psychology so that I could answer these questions, and haven’t looked back since. So, many all-nighters, statsrelated tears and caffeine-induced panic attacks later, here I am about to graduate. That

is, I will have an undergraduate psych degree and plans to study as long as I already have all over again to avoid the only job Seek.com tells me I’m qualified for – icing cakes at the Cheesecake Shop. Lately, though, I have realised that even if I am consigned to writing raspberry-flavoured ‘Happy Birthday’ cake messages seventy times per week (and inevitably becoming morbidly obese), I will always see life a little differently as a psych major - as a series of lessons - and my time at Bond has been no exception. When I arrived at Bond as a fulltime student, I quickly realised you introduce yourself around campus with a firm handshake and two standard pieces of information: your hometown and your degree. I also quickly discovered the standard responses to telling someone that you are a psych student: With hands swiftly rising to head, the new ac4040

quaintance would feign alarm, making a joke about mindreading, daddy issues or the protective qualities of tin foil. Herein, I learnt my first lesson – don’t judge people before you know them, otherwise known as Things Not to Say to a Psych Student. Safely surrounded by my fellow future Freudians that very next week, I took my first tentative steps into tertiary education – and tripped on the ‘thinking steps’. This was a spectacular event involving coffee, textbooks, and a skirt, and for the next week, I was afraid to show my face on campus. Lesson Two – relax; people pay you a lot less attention than you think. There’s a fancy name for that in Psych (the spotlight effect), but then again there is a fancy name for nearly everything in Psych, as I learnt in that first semester. Somehow I survived my first

BAKED feature semester. I then found myself in the core class ‘Cultural and Ethical Values.’ Actually to a certain extent, I found myself in Cultural and Ethical Values. Have you ever gotten so used to something you just drift along until one day you come to your senses and have no idea where you are? I had been studying a double degree, with my second specialisation being International Relations. After six weeks of ‘Cultural and Ethical Values’, I realised I did not support nationalism, or war, or most politicians – and changed out of IR. I also learnt a lesson that we get taught over and over again in Psych, but like to deny: the profound influence your parents can have on who you are. I can single out the day I chose to be a psychologist. I had been volunteering with my mother, who works as an aged care physio, helping an elderly lady learn to walk again after surgery. I had just given up on changing the world, yet I had just done so. You don’t have to work in politics to make the world a better place. Filled with enthusiasm for my new career direction, I admit to becoming a little self-absorbed. Without going into detail, let me tell you the most important lesson I am taking away from psychology: Someone you know has a mental illness. This is not an exaggeration. You’ve probably heard 1 in 4 people will suffer a mental illness at some point in their lives.

But let me tell you the other thing I learnt that semester – by all means, if you know a loved one or classmate isn’t coping, talk to a professional about it (and preferably get them to!), but don’t take it upon yourself to help them. Psychologists actually aren’t allowed to treat their family and friends, and there is good reason for this. If something is too close under your nose, you can’t see it clearly.

I had almost forgotten what it was like to relax, even as I over-studied about the effects of stress. This is easy to do at Bond – don’t do it! On a lighter note, by the end of my third semester, I finally came of age. I’m sure many Bondies know how it feels to wish you were old enough for Don’s or East or Palaver. I did feel like this from time to time, but I also was a ridiculously over-zealous student with a failure phobia like nothing you’ve ever seen. I admit to hiding behind being underaged as an excuse to put just one more meticulous hour into my work. When this excuse vanished, I wasn’t entirely impressed. When I gave in, though, I gave in enthusiastically. I ended the year with only a brief whirlwind of clubbing and parties, and I can’t say I am the type to go out very often. Contrary to the insistence of almost every more mature or respectable person I know, you can definitely learn something from partying: the value of balance. 41

I didn’t stop studying, though. By this point in my degree, I was really getting into the interesting stuff, like Sensation and Perception. To sum up that class, your mind plays some pretty incredible tricks on you when it comes to how you see the world. It’s amazing how malleable human perception is. If you want to test this on yourself, all you have to study are reversible figures – look at it one way, it’s a vase, but look again – if you focus on other parts of the same picture, it now looks like two people kissing. While I was learning about this in class, I had also just entered into a new relationship with a person who still makes me very happy. I was in the exact same world, but I was looking at it differently. In short, it’s amazing how easily your world can turn around if something makes you focus on different parts to where you were looking before. I have learnt many things as a psychology student. One is that the spotlight effect doesn’t seem to apply to housemates. Another is that caffeine withdrawals are real. The most important lessons I have learnt as a psych student are things I would have come across no matter what I’d studied. I am just glad that I learnt to see the challenges of university as life lessons that in some ways will do more for us than our degrees.

P Platers: Are we really the ones to blame? BAKED feature

By: Robert Millard

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As a mere green P-plater, I know I don’t have that much authority when it comes to driving skills and common courtesy on the roads. In fact, I’m probably guilty of frustrating other motorists with speeding and/or braking at inappropriate times, or for simply having a set of P plates loosely attached to my numberplate. But, there are a few pet peeves I have with other drivers. Please allow me to vent: 1. The indicator exists… for a reason! I know I’m stating the obvious but does it not bother you when someone just changes lane right in front of you when you least expect it? I mean, the indicator stalk is so close to your hand on the wheel. It’s just a matter of moving it a few centimetres to give some warning. It’s not just there to look pretty. In fact, it doesn’t even look pretty. Worse still, when you’re at a red traffic light that has a right-turn lane and the car in front of you has no indicator on. So naturally you wait behind as the lane you are in is the most convenient. When the traffic light changes to green, there are three main scenarios. One, the car in front does go straight ahead, and you’re on your merry way. Two, the car in front slowly

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“Hanging two inches off my bumper isn’t going to get you anywhere faster.” edges to the middle of the intersection waiting for oncoming traffic to move so it can turn right. Three, the indicator is finally turned on as the car moves to the intersection. All the while, you’re left behind trying to get back into a lane which is going straight ahead. A mild FML moment, no?

“Shift your rear vision mirror ...and angle it so the culprit’s headlights are reflected from your mirror back into their eyes.” 2. Slowing down for speed cameras is completely pointless. The speed camera will record how fast you’re going, irrespective of it being 10km/h over or under. You don’t get some sort of bonus or reward for going under the speed limit. You just successfully frustrate other motorists. It’s simple to stick to the speed limit, not get booked for speeding and remain a respectful and reasonable motorist. That should be the mediocre reward you focus on. 3. Tailgating is frustrating. Don’t do it, seriously. Hanging two inches off my bumper isn’t going to get you anywhere faster. Worse still is when you do it at night with your high beams on - I can’t see! That’s not safe. But

thankfully there are a couple of ways to get revenge. First, you can slow down. That will really annoy. But even better, you can shift your rear vision mirror to night mode and angle it so the culprit’s headlights are reflected from your mirror back into their eyes. That usually forces them to back off a bit. 4. Cyclists are like adults playing dress-ups. They have their ridiculous Lycra ‘uniforms’ and head out in convoys on the roads pretending to be vehicles. You know what? The bike lane exists for a reason. More importantly, it’s probably in a cyclist’s best interests to be as far left in the bike lane as possible, to avoid those motorists who don’t have much spatial awareness, or knowledge about the width of their car. However plenty of cyclists continue to pedal along on the actual road, forcing cars to slow down. Not cool. It’s irresponsible and dangerous. Don’t expect any sympathy from me. While I’m sure there are many more pet peeves out there, those are my top four. If they could be fixed, the roads would be a happier, more enjoyable place. Less people would be angry and driving wouldn’t be a daily dreaded experience.

TECHNO-Grief: Five Stages of an Addict’s Mourning By: Jorja-Lee Wallace

The student hive buzzes around me, as I – the lone bee – venture out into the techno-addict haven of hand held electronics; sans my own appendage attachments. I watch as they flit from flower to flower. Extracting the nectar of gossip from the exotic BlackBerry or iPhone, in order to transfer it to the Queen Bee, Facebook, in a short and predictably un-noteworthy status. Day Three. I am bored. I am lonely. And I would give my right arm to nestle into the comforting bosom of my fallen comrades. Internet. Laptop. iPhone. iPod. TV. I can hear you calling my name. Soon my darlings, soon we will be together again. Denial. Midnight. T minus 0 minutes, until I enter the Stone Age. The peaceful sigh of the computer as blue screen turns to black haunts the room. It is quiet. Too quiet. I sit crosslegged on the bed and flick my eyes between the prisoners I have taken. They stare back, content. Happy to rest Photo by Christian Schussler

BAKED FEATURE BAKED feature Computer, phone, iPod, TV. All fated to gather dust and loneliness. Fated to long for the caress of my fingertips across their smooth screens or wornout keyboards. Fated to tempt me to the border of insanity. I don’t miss them, but they will miss me. I’m fine. 11am. I look forlornly at the pile of untouchables on my desk. I’m fine. I’ve had my iPhone for less than four days, and all I want to do is play with it. I’m fine. So many Apps to try out. I’m fine. Facebook calls to me. I’m fine. It feels unnatural that the Toshiba lid remains closed, while my eyes remain open. I’M FRIGGIN FINE. 1pm. I am not an addict. I do not need technology. I am fine.The endless stream of reassurance falsely resonates in my mind like a hiker chasing an echo in a canyon. It does nothing to temper the obsessive worry that something vital is missing from my duffel bag. I leave the room clothed, but feel completely naked and vulnerable to the world. I’m fine. 3pm. I sit in the warmth of the sun, alone, staring into the distance. If the inside of my head was a bad play, the crickets would most certainly be chirping. I try to fill the hollowness with song. Eventually I give up because I’m a shit singer, and I’d rather be bathed in silence than the sounds of cats drowning. I’m fine. 4pm. The day is slow. Time

trickles past. Boredom is overwhelming. I’m fine. I do not own a watch. I should make a sundial. I feel without purpose. Refuge is taken at the cafe, where I sit and desperately hope for a friendly face to appear. Please, dear God, please. I guess time by the ebb and flow of the student wave. I’m fine. 7pm. Opening the door to the BUSA office, I wonder how I’m supposed to edit Scope. I really haven’t thought this through. Andra sits at the computer, laughing. Why did I do this? I stand across the room, facing the wall, balancing on a trolley. I wonder if I can catch and train a seagull to be like a carrier pigeon. I am totally the best chick. Ahhh, good, you’re starting to lose it. Anger. 9am. BEEEEEEEEEEEEP. Sweet mother of fucking pearl who set off the bloody fire alarm. My heart kick-starts the engine and I spring out of bed as if electrocuted. I stand posed half karate kid, half puma; prepared for attack. But there is no fire. There is no emergency. The angry yellow strokes of the digital alarm clock leer at me from across the room. I will fucking kill you. Its jarring noise subsides with an angry flick of the wrist. You’re lucky there is flyscreen on the window; otherwise you’d be spare parts on the concrete. I sulk back to the bed and perch on the edge rubbing my eyes,

BAKED ears still ringing. Stupid friggin alarm clock. Goddamn, friggin, shit, fuck. I want my fucking harp playing fucking relaxing fucking iPhone alarm. The rage train has left the station. 12pm. Lunch. My palms are sweating. I can’t sit still. My eyes dart back and forth looking at everything and nothing. I feel physically ill. My head is thumping. My breathing is shallow. My speech the whiz of a horse-racing commentator. The constant drone at the cafe is trying to open up the earth below my feet and swallow me whole. I snap like a rabid dog, my words biting into the skin of my friends. There’s too many of them and they won’t listen. Won’t listen to me. Too busy on their phones or laptops. Fucking put it down for two goddamn seconds and listen to me. Too busy, and I feel like the rage inside is boiling over and seeping out of my pores like acid. I need to get out of here before I explode. 3pm. I hate people so much. Humans are the stupidest mammals that inhabit the Earth. You are all fucking idiots. I sit judging everyone else, perched way up high on my trusty steed. They sweat onto their mobiles that are clutched so possessively. They drain hours of the day away with idle online nonsense. They stare transfixed like hypnotised slaves at the black idiot box hanging on the wall. Ahhh, why am I so mean? 6pm. My throat stings with

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BAKED FEATURE BAKED 6pm. My throat stings with the bitter taste of acid. The whole world is bathed in a deep vicious red. I want to scream. AHHHHHHHH I WANT TO PUNCH SOMETHING. I’m trapped. Can’t deal with social interaction. Stupid obsessed friends. Can’t go to the gym. Stupid TVs. Can’t escape into the online faceless world of endless possibilities. Stupid motherfucking fuck. 10pm. The floor is cold and unforgiving. My gaze fixates on the numbers above the shafts of giant moving metal boxes, and I wait. I sit and wait and cry and curse. Security won’t swipe me up, and the universe has conveniently occupied the residents with far more pressing matters than leaving the building. Half an hour passes. No one comes. My heart aches with despair at the simplicity of such a task. You’re an idiot for doing this. With a phone, I could easily summon Kristy to the first floor and together we would ascend the levels to her shoebox room. If you weren’t such an idiot you’d have a phone. Now, she is only metres away and I have no way of reaching her. She’s not coming. 8am. Bargaining. Somehow I am functioning on three hours of restless sleep. I envy those with the comforting warmth of a laptop under their palms. What I would do to be one of them. I yearn for my poison of choice; technology. Do it.

9am. The professor plans on using computers in my tutorial. The warm-up begins. I can already feel the thin plastic shaft between my fingers. Unfortunately my phalanges’ early morning training session is to amount to nothing. My professor refuses to allow me complete the tutorial by hand. Wow. Really? You weren’t even born into the technology generation, and you’re that dependant. Wow. I refuse to show up. Perfect opportunity for you to get a fix and you wasted it. What were you thinking? Screw this moral high ground bullshit; I need me some blue screen. 3pm. I pace the length of my desk with purpose. No one has to know. The yellow post-it notes screaming ‘Don’t Touch’ only draw my attention closer. You’re the only one here. How easy it would be to gently apply pressure to the button of life. DO IT. How conveniently the privacy of my own room, and deadbolt around my tongue, would serve in such a situation. 6pm. The strange circular object in my hand provokes a torrent of childhood memories. Its texture is familiar. I feel 15 again. The stereo comes to life as Track 1 begins to play. Do they even make CDs anymore? I haven’t purchased a musical album in about 4years; needless to say, ‘So Fresh’ is a complete deviation from my current tastes in music. Anything beats silence. Depression. Unknown am/pm. I am no one. I am an island. I 47 47

am the hunchback of ‘No-tre Technology’, and my room is my sanctuary. You are alone. I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling in melancholy. No one cares. I feel like I am being crushed by the roar of nothing. I want to escape but cannot comprehend leaving the comfort of bed. Sleep. It will pass the time. I only emerge to eat when the pain of hunger becomes intolerable. The crowd fluctuates with the passing of time and I sit in its wake, unmoving. I am surrounded by people, but I have never felt more alone or isolated in my life. 10am. Acceptance. I wake without an alarm. I do not greet my forgotten friends with a downturned smile. I’m fine. I only need to check my bag once. There is no lingering question of missing items. The phone stays on the desk. I actually don’t care. I don’t need it. My thoughts are not consumed with its absence. 5pm. Slightly intoxicated from a rather long lunch, I plop on the bed and wrap myself in up in a cocoon. When I emerge I will be a beautiful butterfly. Free to use technology as I may, unshackled from my addiction. Free from its alluring pull. Free from its firm grasp on society. Or so you think. 12.05am. Spartacus and Facebook occupying computer screen. Phone in hand. Headphones in ear. I’m settled. I’m calm. I’m right back to where I started. Fuck. I’ve learnt nothing.

Eugenics -

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o we really want to live in a world where everyone is having designer babies? A world in which everyone is born ‘perfect’, or a world that is so superficial that we discriminate the hair colour of an unborn child? My answer is an emphatic “No!”. Charles Darwin’s cousin, Francis Galton, originally coined the term ‘eugenics’ in the 19th Century. Galton built upon Darwin’s theories on evolution and sought to systemise natural selection on the basis that desirable traits like intelligence and talent were hereditary.

The Australian Concise Oxford Dictionary defines eugenics as the ‘science of improving the human population by controlled breeding for desirable inheritable characteristics’. Within this field, there are two types. Positive eugenics encourages genetically superior people to breed with each other (eg, doctors, lawyers, etc). In contrast, negative eugenics prevents genetically inferior people from breeding (eg, criminals, mentally handicapped, etc). Both types have been used in countries including England, America and Germany. In Britain, people were placed in different classes according to their ‘genetic superiority’. In America, they took it one step furtherwith eugenics legislation resulting in com-

pulsory sterilisation for over 64,000 people. Similar legislation was enacted in Canada, based on their scores on an IQ test. The biggest problem at the time was that immigrants in Canada did not speak much English, consequently failing the IQ test and being forced to undergo sterilisation. However, the Nazi regime went to the extreme. Hitler forced sterilisation on those deemed inferior and partook in compulsory euthanasia. The atrocities committed by the Nazi regime caused many world leaders to renounce their association with eugenics, and so eugenics breathed its last breath. This was also in part due to the United Nation’s adoption of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948) which stated, “Men and women of full age, without any limitation due to race, nationality or religion, have the right to marry and to found a family.” However, due to scientific breakthroughs in the last

three decades, eugenics has been revived and is once again a contemporary issue. Like all contemporary issues, there are legal and ethical concerns.

“Will people with dyslexia or short-sightedness be terminated before birth?” There are a myriad of legal issues surrounding eugenics, from violating a person’s basic human right to reproduce, to the storage and access of genetic information. Other issues are in regards to how we define ‘genetic inferiority’. Should there be required levels of intelligence? What happens if someone has Huntington’s gene? Should cloning be legal? Should we be allowed to grow organs to help victims of disease and accidents? In addition, there is also the issue of who owns your DNA. Social ramifications include the screening and terminating of babies with disabilities.

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A future to avoid?

by Sawan Naker

Are courts willing to say that some forms of life are better than others? In Harritan v Stephens [2006] HCA 15, a pregnant mother with rubella was concerned that her unborn child would be affected. The doctor advised that the child would be fine, but unfortunately the child, Alexia, was born disabled. The High Court of Australia held that, “In the eyes of the law in Australia, all human beings are valuable and that Alexia’s disability was only one dimension of her humanity”. This shows that courts are not taking the stance that a disabled life is not worth living. Another issue would be determining what constitutes a disability. Will people with dyslexia or short-sightedness be terminated before birth? Some of our most talented people have been dyslexic, including Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison and JFK. Under a eugenic society, they would never have existed. Imagine what the world would be like today without the influence of these great people. There are also countless ethical issues surrounding eugenics. Do we have the right to play God? Eugenics will lead to a society dividing classes of inferior and superior people. After so many civil movements, do we really want to leap backwards to live in a society involving segregation?

Eugenics leads to designer babies. Is having a disability a thing so bad it should prevent a life? The complexity of these social and legal issues demonstrates why eugenics is not the solution. The Nazi regime shows all of us the dangers of trying to obtain a eugenic society. Society needs to understand the importance of genetic diversity. Viruses affect similar people in similar ways, and strains like Swine Flu become instant epidemics and sweep through large portions of the world. The fact that some people are more resistant to the strain means it takes longer to spread and has to adapt more often. In a eugenic society where everyone has ‘perfect’ genes, a virus that affects one 49

of us would lead to the demise of the entire human race. In addition, if we lived in a world where everyone was intelligent, it would be difficult to maintain a functioning society. It would be difficult to employ such intellectuals in unrelated industries of work.

“Do we have the right to play God?” Like communism, eugenics is an idealistic concept. It is an idea that cannot be implemented if we wish to live in an egalitarian society. Like any issue that promotes class segretation, society should say no. We are not God, and we should not be deluding ourselves in thinking we have the right to decide who lives and who does not.

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