The news & you, or alternatively - How low can you go...

While reading one of the Australian mass news media publications I came across this article asking why we don't see enough penis on HBO or on TV in general. Usually I wouldn't be drawn to an article which interacts with such base levels of journalism, but the picture linked to the article was of Eric Northman, a character in a TV series I watch called True Blood, so I was obviously intrigued - and not at the prospect of seeing his penis. 

The article in question being:

Why are there so few dongs on TV.

The interesting thing is that even the headline without realising addresses part of the reason why penises are absent from television and even movies. Using the word "dongs" reveals that the author isn't willing to interact or address the male genitalia in a way that is in any way less objectifying than men calling breasts "titties" or vaginas "cunts". This gender equality that they're seeking on screen is rather exploitation and objectification equality. 

The flawed (in my opinion) premise of the article is the there aren't enough penises shown on TV. Complaining that in sex scenes we see breasts but no penises is demanding programmes to become pornographic, as it's not as though we're going to watch a TV series hoping to see some penetration (really - where else did you think this was going!?). 

And while comparing a penis to a breast may seem like a valid comparison to some, women are able to sun bathe topless, while men stripping off their speedos at the beach would be punished by the law. Women can still breast feed in public while men aren't typically allowed to get a blow job in public, and while many people ask that a woman cover her breastfeeding with a blanket when in public (as some people are complete prudes) it's not as though throwing a baby blanket over a blowjob on the bus would make it any more acceptable - so it's not really apples with apples now is it?

I suppose the most important distinction between watching porn/TV with nudity and the acts done in public is that people chose to watch (or not to watch) TV/pornography while people who would otherwise shy away from lewd and intentionally provocative TV shows have no option but to be subjected to breastfeeding and public fellatio. A programme that is in contrast with your views or offensive to your sensitivities is easily avoided whereas breastfeeding (something which for the record I have no problem with and consider it to be perfectly natural) is in many ways unavoidable if done openly in public.

I appreciate that one is necessary and not a sexual act, and the other is a purely sexual act so even comparing and contrasting both in the public arena isn't really possible, but then I don't think that comparing a sensitive erogenous zone and (subjectively) attractive part of the female anatomy whose sole purpose is attraction and breast feeding isn't comparable in anatomy to the sexual and reproductive organs of a man's anatomy. Although I suppose the real point in this context is that 90% of the time where a man's penis would be shown in programmes like True Blood is either just before or straight after some form of sexual interlude. Programmers, directors and writers would then need to take special care to ensure that the penises were wearing condoms so that the programmes were not promoting unsafe sexual habits (in the same way that Hollywood has shied away from tobacco being smoked by "hero" characters so that smoking isn't promoted to younger generations). 

And really, anyone who has seen either an erect penis in a condom , or a flaccid, spent post-coital penis still in its sheath knows that it's nothing worth looking at.

Personally, I don't care if we see penises on TV or not... I've seen plays live on stage where the protagonists exposed penis was less than 2 meters from my face, and watched shows like Starz's Spartacus where it's impossible to avoid a throng of penises in any one scene.

But I do resent the fact that some people are calling for more penises on screen and not also calling for more labia. Which being a part of the woman's sexual and closely linked to the reproductive genitalia is probably the better call for nudity equality when watching a programme. I am yet to see in popular programming a bevy of open legged women parading their vaginas for the cameras... Full frontal male nudity exposes far more of the male reproductive genitalia than a full frontal of a woman, only really exposing breasts and pubic region.

To be completely honest I'm ashamed of the calibre of writing in the article and that this is primarily considered "newsworthy", instead of being the topic of some single and bitter, sex in the city style 40-something's blog post. I'm offended that a "call for dong" has made it into one of Australia's leading media publications and at the same time saddened that I thought the SMH.com.au was capable of paying for a higher calibre of entertainment writing.

The realisation from the number of comments however illustrates exactly how profitable this style of writing and reporting can be. And that it is this type of writing that broadens their reader base and increases their market share, therefore bringing in more profit.

So I suppose the real issue I have is we the readers chose to read and interact with writing of this calibre on topics as base as these. What a shame.

The fool...

He sat alone at the bar, waiting for his friend to arrive with a warm embrace and a wide smile. A sign, a symbol, a physicalisation of the bonds of lasting friendship that link the two men. Drinks would flow, smoke would bellow and stories of adventures and people would rumble amongst the chorals of roaring laughter.

But the Fool sat alone.

The Fool waited... Fumbling with the phone, flicking feebly through his "Favourite" contacts... Always pausing on that name. The one who he knew would come, of course, and while the Fool questioned if he should call he knew that he shouldn't have to, when he was near he would come. He thought of all the times he had opened his doors to the Adventurer, welcoming him in with no questions and no expectations... Now that he had returned surely he would come, call, knock, email or text to reach out that hand for that embrace. He hadn't while he was away, others had spoken with him, but not the Fool. But he wasn't away now, now he was home and would at the very least show some semblance of gratitude if not friendship, for the months spent in each others company while the Adventurer relied on the Fools hospitality.

But the Fool sat alone.

The fool would remain alone. Just like the last time, the time before that and probably every time in memory. The Fool was only a fool for thinking that something somewhere had changed, but the Fool was never a friend, never a comrade or confidant. Never someone who the Adventurer would actually lean on should he have a better option. Because the Fool was never the better option, never a better option for company, friendship, conversation. Only ever the last option - and not knowing that made him the Fool.

Battle...

This pen fights me with every letter it reluctantly looses from its bitter point. As though it is upset with its entire purpose for being, not satisfied with the lot it was cast. My hand growing ever more weary as it forces me to wrangle, struggle and wrestle the life from it. Perhaps this pen knows of its fate. As though by some mystical force has been willed into life and is aware of what time it has left to live, in much the same way that I am reminded of the length of its utility made present by the length of colour, visible through the transparent tube that contains its thick and stagnant blue blood. So that this pen must be my enemy and I his, that he should take battle with my hand while I slowly bleed the life from him that I might give life to my page.

Could it be that this pen of mine has grown so cumbersome and lethargic through lack of use? After all, in this post-paper world that we are creating, where the keystroke or meme is mightier than the sword, a pen might be led to believe that this long and fortunate existence is indeed an inalienable right. In this way, could my pen be ignoring the long history of scrawled and scribbled stretches of paper that preceded this partial emancipation of penmanship? It is in its infancy, this apocalyptic post-pen world, and while black and white may still be struggling for true equality in society - black and white are undeniably united and bonded in equality and artistry when a passage of prose or verse is transcribed.

OH! Then what sweet irony it is then that this tale, first wrought in ink strangled from the repugnant and churlish vassal, should be transferred and in turn transmuted to binary that it might be shared. To never be read aloud or handed around as hand written letters on street corners. But copied from cursive to keystrokes for your appreciation. This pen will have found asylum and will happily lay at rest, still and motionless in the darkness of it's case. Its victory in repelling its purpose is certain for a moment, but while each and every letter of the draft is scrawled along the lines of my page, its agonising passion rages on till completion.

Unlike the average teen, blissfully unaware that each day spent is one closer to death, this pen from first letter to last will rail against my wrist till strain and fatigue cause me to surrender... if only for a moment... to hopefully, at last as if by chance or by the pen simply willing it to happen, that I should pick up a different pen. A less suspecting bedfellow, unknowing and unaware that I will waste its life away in unread words on an ink filled page.

THE PEND

A wall post is not a status update...

After my long battle with Facebook (as is outlined in my first year of blogging), I eventually conceded that it was too big not to be a part of. Too many publications that I read, organisations and profession specific groups which I belong to post regular updates for jobs, training and other related topics which I simply wouldn't have access to without Facebook. So for me being a part of Facebook is the digital equivalent of reading a daily print publication which caters exactly to my needs.

In many ways, my interaction with the site has removed the social aspect, as the bulk of my 200+ friends list is simply me showing some Internet etiquette in not offending you, in the off chance that I might actually bump into you on the street. Or, in other words, I only care about you enough that I would prefer to avoid an awkward "you deleted me" conversation should we cross paths (to the hundreds I have deleted already, I obviously couldn't care less).

So, anyway, removing the social aspect has its drawbacks, in that I appear to be the only person who has done it. While I might post a legitimate question to an organisation, my friends see this on their news feed and have the ability to comment on it. While mutual friends posting on a status update, or on a comment made on the wall of a mutual friend could be seen as nice, the inappropriate banter which occurs on official "pages" when people comment is completely unnecessary and inappropriate.

The problem is that email is no longer the most viable method of seeking assistance, where as a professional community bulletin board or Internet forum is no longer relevant due to the immediacy and mobile interaction that is available with Facebook. It's no surprise So in the past, where a message to an organisation would be private, or directed in a theatre which was only frequented by like minded people, Facebook opens up the typical query to a banter that is completely useless, and potentially career limiting, or in a case of need, might cause those who would typically answer a query to be put off by the white-noise that infects the comments section.

So readers and possible Facebook users, please, for the love of God, realise that a Wall post to an institution (i.e. not a mutual friend) should be left alone, as the user is obviously seeking advice from other people directly linked to that page, and not from their well meaning friends (unless you are both a friend and have actual experience in the matter). It's not your moment shine and crack a joke, post something warm and fuzzy or offer irrelevant advice... Just as when I post something as a status update it is directed to those who can see my status and in fact is like every status update every made - to be commented upon, when I post on the wall of a business or organisation the desired audience is the organisation, not you.

So I say again, a wall post is not a status update, of course anything posted on Facebook is open to the forum of the Internet, available for all to see and comment on - all I'm asking is that you use the benefits that the Internet (unlike speech) affords you... The power to think before you type.

I suppose the best thing about having such a small reader base is knowing that this entry, at least, will not get commented on.

Funemployment...

I don't necessarily know what's worse. That I've only had 3 days of paid employment this financial year, or that I'm finding my life mirroring the intro song to one of the most refreshingly honest musicals of the modern era.

It sucks to be me, and I'm starting to wonder what anyone actually does with a BA in English. Or as my expensive piece of paper declares, a Bachelor of Arts, Bachelor of Education. 

Of course, after taking a form of gap year last year while preparing my marital home for my wife-to-be, being dicked around for months waiting for the powers-that-be to approve my teaching credentials (approximately 5 months), helping to plan a wedding, being forced to resign from my part time night/weekend job in order to have the wedding and honeymoon they knew about when they hired me, and then becoming a live-in carer for my wife while she recovered from a bad case of Bells Palsy (a form of facial paralysis that comes with a helping of chronic fatigue like symptoms), and then dealing with the partial relapse of said Bells Palsy due to the added stress of family calamity over the Christmas period, I may have been forced onto the back foot in beginning my chosen career as a High School English & Drama teacher.

But all that aside, I am astounded at the dificulty I am having in finding some form of casual or temporary (let alone permanent) work as a teacher. For the 4 years that I spent at UNSW studying education, every lecturer would paint the prettiest of pictures of the future and financial stability that our chose vocation would offer us. The benefits of becoming teachers at a time when 40% of the current teaching workforce would be retiring, meaning that there will be more jobs than teachers to fill them. 4 years of mindless babble by the people who were meant to be training us and preparing us for the future left me stumped. A heterosexual, male, highschool English & Drama teacher. I was told I would be the prized bull that everyone would want! 

What wonderful dreams and expansive joy and hope they inspired in we, the naive minded learners. If only it were true. What they failed to mention was that the GFC in 2008 obliterated a heap of existing teachers super annuation forcing them to continue working well past when they would have originally hoped to retire. Or that the only way into a school as a new starter would be doing casual work. Only problem is that most schools don't need new casual teachers as the ones that actually do retire from full time work stay on at the school in a casual or temp role, and those already retired have come back to the work force as casuals to bolster their post 2008 super funds. One less avenue into a school to build up the rapport and reputation required to fight for the illusive maternaty leave position.

So after being unemployed for what is coming up to seven months now I can quite easily say that it is no longer fun, and perhaps stopped being fun as soon as we returned from the honeymoon. Not that I wasn't trying to get other part time work for the last 4 months, but being screwed around by my previous part-time employer at the promise of getting my old night job back has left me without work for the whole duration, and with a feeling of worthlessness that I can't even begin to describe. 

Funemployment? I think not. Who ever out there believes that the long term unemployed have it easy are gravely mistaken. The constant anxiety of a looming mortgage mixed with the absence of self worth or value from being unemployed have taken their toll on me personally, and I can only beginning to understand how many other long term unemployed people must feel, as at least I have the support of my friends, my family, my wife to keep me going. If not for the continued need to repair and improve the house I would probably have slipped into a deep depression, thankfully finding some personal worth and satisfaction in the value I have added to our house, and our lives as a resulf of my physical labour.

I am now starting to see the glimmer a turnaround in my luck in my pursiut of paid employment, but have been doubting the worth of the $25,000 piece of paper that I have hanging over my desk. Was education/teaching, a noble endeavour and honorable vocation, the right choice? Was leaving a career in retail management (that paid more 6 years ago than a full time teaching salary does today) the right choice?  I no longer know. I know the feeling of worth and satifaction I get from teaching is far greater than the sense of worth I had when seeing how much earned each week in retail. 

I suppose it's remembering the pride I feel in watching my students learn and achieve that is helping to keep me focused. Helping me to not lose faith, and driving me to schools different schools every week searching for work. 

It is a noble and honorable vocation, and anything worth doing isn't easy. At least when I say that to my future students I will understand what that phrase actually means, as this test is far more trying than any suffered at university.