Jock's Jocks

I've been thinking geeky thoughts lately - I know I shouldn't but I don't think there is much I can do about it. I bought a wireless card for my laptop a couple of days ago, and I felt excited. Last night I went to the local shopping mall cinema and saw Doom, a movie based on a computer game and enjoyed it. That's all I've got actually so it's not all that geeky, but the following is:

In fifty years time, scientists and the like finally invent some sort of intelligent robot, one that can think, feel and learn and constantly reprogram itself to adapt to the world. However once they start being produced for use in society, cheap imitations will pop up like Tamagotchi fakes (geek).
Maybe like a car or a computer, there would be different models starting at the base model, and going right through to the deluxe, top-of-the-range release. I don't really care about the deluxe one, but the base model could prove interesting.

Would it be less intelligent? Would it be a bit of a slob and not really obey any commands? Once it's settled into your home it could start getting lazy; instead of making fresh hot coffee for you, it squirts oil into your cup and adds the curdled milk it forgot to put back into the fridge two days ago and pretends nothing's wrong. It hears you swearing so it decides to add a few words to it's own vocabulary, so when asked to do something such as vacuum the house you might not be met with a "yes master," but instead something like "piss off I'm watching telly, do it yourself." There's not much point having one really. Instead of cooking a gourmet meal to delight your friends, it might cook toast or give you a can of baked beans and an opener, telling you to share it amongst yourselves while it heads to the pub.

They'd be like one of those friends who says they're only staying for a few days while they sort their life out, only to still be there three months later. He'll crack onto your girlfriend, saying that he's got 10 inches of cold steel for her, when in fact there is an infrared port where his penis should be, and he'll wolf-whistle when your mum comes around for tea. Maybe the only thing we can do is shove one of these base-model robots into the big brother house and watch it come alive. Darren TX-379 could be competing for a million bucks along with a ditzy hairdresser and a boring football player.

There is also the distinct possibility that it could turn on you, but instead of killing you it punches you in the face, pisses off, but comes back two days later mumbling something about being mugged and having no money. Darren TX-379, or "Darren" for short would then feel guilty, and so would do a quick clean of the house, involving a half-arsed vacuuming job, sweeping all of his dirty dishes and beer cans under his bed and hiding an oil patch in the carpet under a rug.
I hate robots already.

A lot of people get a fair way through their lives and say that they always wished that they could have done something differently – one of those comments made in hindsight. My parents and grandparents say that they wished they had learned a musical instrument, and when they say this I automatically respond with the tried and true cliché, “well you know, it’s never too late to start.”

As I was going through my teenage years, I played the saxophone, but eventually got to the point where I didn’t really enjoy it, however my parents kept saying “you’ll regret it later on down the track if you give it away now.” All these years later, I guess I’ve discovered that they’re right; I did stop playing the sax but I still kept it, and now that I appreciate jazz and blues music a lot more, I can pick it up the sax and really enjoy playing it.
It’s good to think about these things early on, as I want to make all the necessary preparations to ensure that in twenty, thirty or forty years time, I won’t regret having not tried done anything. This means trying new things, continuing with my music and art, and maybe even learning a strange tongue from a hidden dwarf tribe nestled deep in a forest somewhere.

However, when I think about the different things I want to learn to do before I die, there are a few notable talents that come to mind. One skill that I’ve never been able to master, or even bluff my way through, is re-wrapping the butchers paper that bacon or ham comes in. I’m talking about when you go to the deli section of the local supermarket and ask for say, 200 grams of bacon rashers. They put it in the plastic bag, using the classic ‘inside-out’ insertion method, which allows the handler to avoid touching the food product with their hands yet it still goes in the bag when they flip it inside-out. The real magic comes when they place the bag onto the pile of butcher’s paper then effortlessly wrap it, where the end result being a lovely well-wrapped parcel.

I’m unable to replicate this perfect process at home, and every time I re-wrap the paper, I might as well have scrunched it up. If anyone can write in and share any similar wrapping stories then that would be great. When I get to 70, I want to be able to say “I’m so glad that I learnt the piano, did some acting, and mastered the art of butcher’s paper wrapping.” What grandkid wouldn’t be proud of that? It’s not like you can use an ancient lost language used by forest dwarves when serving up brunch on Sunday morning, but you can impress your grandkids with your sought-after butcher’s paper re-wrapping techniques.

Heres some photos to have a geeze at. Note the bad self-portrait shot. Others show the lovely drive I get to do everyday. Seeya!

Ok everyone (that could be a few people or a lot, I don't know...) a big shout out to everyone, as well as some sort of apology. I haven't had any time at all to do a posting, as teaching 27 grade fives hasn't been the easiest thing in the world. I have had a blast in the last few weeks, but the whole experience has been quite full on, with heaps of preparation, consumed time and definetly fatigue. All I have wanted to do when I get back home is to have a beer and either walk down to the beach or become a blob in front of the television. Fortunately I've managed to keep my skeletal system, so I have in fact been able to avoid becoming a blob (obviously as I have all my structural systems intact). One saddening thing is the state of television these days, however that doesn't really worry me too much.

My time at my little country school is sadly, but relievedly, and I don't know if that's a word nor do I care, is coming to a close. So as of next week, I'll again be able to sit down at a computer and talk some stuff. Just not yet, but early next week I'll be able to. I hope you're all well, and not an actual well, otherwise you'd be just way to deep for me (eh eh). Seeya soon.

Bingo: Thursday Night, Heads Down at 8:00. That short and to-the-point statement emblazons the sign that sits outside the Inverloch Bowls Club. I forgot to go in the end, but it would have been satisfying to go home with a frozen chook or a meal voucher for the local pub after a fast and furious night's bingo.

I'm doing my teaching rounds at the moment and so far I've been having a hoot; although my intake of bad instant coffee has increased dramatically, however that comes with the territory. Yep, International Roast and Nescafe Blend 43 are still here not because they taste delicious, but they are the lifeblood of school staffrooms all around Australia.

My class is great. They are all lovely kids and there's some bright cookies there too. However being new at this there is one thing I've found hard and that is being serious when required. Lots of stuff amuses me and here's a little example.
One afternoon the class had their weekly religious instruction teacher come in for half an hour and do her thing. I thought I'd make the most of this time and sit in the front corner at my laptop and type up a lesson plan for the next day. It went well until right at the end. The religious instruction teacher was reading out a passage from their exercise books, and at the end of every passage the class recited a certain line. I think it was something like, "He will always love us." I thought nothing of it, that is until they started to hold the 'sss' sound at the end of this passage. For some reason I smirked, but I composed myself and turned back to my lesson plan. Before I knew it, they repeated the passage again and this time it was "He will always love usss." I found this a little more amusing, however being a religious class it was supposed to be serious and I was not helping. The teacher read out another passage, and this time I dreaded what would come next. "He will always love ussssssss;" this time I giggled and they knew they had me. I was supposed to be Mr Hutton here, a trainee teacher who was trying his hardest to do all the right things and this was about to come undone. "He will always love usssssss." It took every bit of my concentration not to smirk; I thought of sad things, I thought of a waterfall, I tried so hard, but it was just too funny and I giggled again, going bright red. I was trying really hard to concentrate on my work but out of the corner of my eye I could see heads turning and smiles on faces. They held me to ransom for another 30 seconds, and once it was over I was exhausted, having put every ounce of energy into not laughing for the rest of the exercise.
However it was the first genuine laugh I'd had for ages, and the amusement came from doing something that I love, and that is being a primary school teacher. I think I've found my calling, plus I can fart in the classroom and walk off and before I know it the kids are squabbling amongst themselves as to who the culprit is. Who would suspect the teacher?

Sorry guys, I haven't had a chance to post anything as I've been pretty busy with teaching rounds down here in the country so I'll endeavour to do something this weekend.

Jock