WARNING: ANGRY RANT BELOW, PROCEED WITH CAUTION
I am not sure wether it is because of recent horrific events (the Oslo bombing/shooting) or if I've just been watching too many documentaries, but I've started to read Richard Dawkins The God Delusion for the third time.
It might be completely missing the point to say this, but I consider this book my Bible. If ever someone was to refute the idea that I was choosing to lead my life free of supernatural faith then I would calmly refer to it as some sort of manual. 'How to be a person of reason and why religion has caused more harm then good' would have been a more appropriate title for Dawkins.
This book divides me and not in the sense you're probably expecting. It doesn't make me question wether I believe in a omnipotent God, or that Jesus rose from the dead, it only solidifies the fact that in all honestly the idea of him just does not interest me and I'm not sure that it ever has. What rips me apart whilst reading this is that at one end of the spectrum it delights me so much to be reading from someone who is so passionate and outspoken about the horrible things that religion encompasses, whilst it also angers me at the way in which people in this world will use religion as a scapegoat.
Don't get me wrong, I have total respect for those who wish to be religious- not matter WHAT religion. My problem is with the use of religion to get away with things like religious holy wars, the oppression of women, discrimination against homosexuals and pro life preachers who declare that not even those who are victim of rape can terminate a pregnancy.
Funnily enough most of these movements are run by men, with most religions being thousands of years old in Gods eye us women must be just tools for which we can (lawfully) reproduce. An all loving, all forgiving God in my opinion would allow all humans to love each other, despite their sexual orientation and have all people equal, despite their sex!
One thing that bothers me most is the political hold that religious organisations have in some countries, namely America. The idea that evangelical christians constitute one third of the total voting population in the USA is frightening to say the least. Yet the US has more states that have legalised gay marriage than our own country. Perhaps electing batshit politicians like Bob Katter kind of trump the millions of batshit Americans?
Now, not all religion is bad, and most of the things I am pointing out in this blog(rant) are but mere generalisations about certain places in which these religions practice. I d not believe that ALL christians, or any other religion are wholly evil, with the exception of maybe Scientology and Hillsong. Both 'churches' use the idea of religion as a facade because let's face it, they are not Church's but CORPORATIONS, designed to benefit from the governments tax breaks and created to reproduce thousands of God fearing, money throwing idiots that go out into the world and preach their bullshit onto reasonable people like ourselves.
I've always held the idea that if religion brings happiness to those in need then it can't really be that bad. And the point is that it shouldn't, but like with every structure in human kind there lies a source of power for which someone will abuse. Unfortunately religion has been abused for many thousands of years, and it has aimed it's sword at a many innocent, loving people to which it promised protection. If I believed in the 'Flying Spaghetti Monster' as Dawkins likes to put it, then you would think I was crazy and probably put me into some kind of institution. But because your belief has been carried by hundreds of millions of others for millennia then that's ok, doesn't matter that the idea of it is completely insane itself or that you have absolutely NO WAY of proving it.
I don't feel a need to believe in any kind of supernatural being. I'm so content with looking out my window and marvelling at the absolute magic of this world, the idea that we have evolved from some big bang, that our universe is still making itself even bigger every second, that our chances of actually surviving to this point in time absolutely blows my mind. We are but a speck of dust in this huge universe, why can't we be content with the fact that we are here and that nature is far more complex than any kind of 'God' could dream of.
In the words of Douglas Adams:
"Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?”
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Confessions of a Potter-holic
I do realise that in the last month or so there has been an unbelievable amount of Harry Potter garbage all over the internet. I call it garbage because I don't really know any other word to describe it, but all I do know is that I absolutely LOVE IT.
I am a self confessed Potter fan, and have been since I was about 10 years old. I spent my childhood waiting eagerly for the next book to come out and spending hour upon hour reading them until I'd finished. The last 4 books I read non-stop the day they were released (they went well into the early hours of the morning). I've probably read the entire series about 14 times over- but let's not start to brag, we all know that there are fans out there that are far more crazier than myself... and I salute them.
For me, Harry Potter was a world that whilst scary and unpredictable at times, became an escape from the unpleasant mundane normalities of everyday life. Now some people would argue that, that is simply what a story is for- to transport the audience into another world. Entertainment is not just expression or an art form but a way in which we can transport our minds (and our hearts) into a completely fictional world. For me, HP wasn't just that it was falling in love with the complete goodness that seemed to ooze out of every character and the overwhelming charming-ness of the entire magical world.
The films, however were not the same for me. They didn't harness that same connection that J.K Rowling had with you from the very minute she describe Dumbledore's eyes as he stood in the driveway of Number 4 Privet Drive. They seemed disconnected, and like many adaptations, failed to express all that was detailed in the literary version.
It wasn't until the Half-Blood Prince that I truly started to enjoy the films, and maybe that was because the first couple of films has a lot of baggage in that they had to explain to much that we (and Harry) learnt in the beginning of the series. The last few films also had an amazing style to them that had obviously over the years been cleaned up and perfected. So when the last film was released on Tuesday night it was with such immense pleasure that I felt my imagination has come to life.
The film was spectacular, in fact, I don't think I will ever be able to describe the feeling in words. The entire cinema was cheering as Bellatrix was killed, and Neville beheaded Voldemort's trusty snake Nagini. You could hear the sobs as Snape's final heroic act and long kept secret was finally revealed. It was Snape's story that really got me, and Alan Rickman's amazing portrayal of the love that he held for Lily was so spot on, I could just give him a hug.
The film took certain liberties in terms of the final battle between Voldy and Harry, and whilst this could have easily pissed off an entire world of dedicated lovers, I felt that it was just perfect in creating the much needed suspense and the catharsis that is sometimes so hard to depict on screen.
For the week leading up to the film release I spent my days watching speeches by the cast and the reflections that the entire world made on the series and how much it has changed our lives. It seems silly and cheesy to say that a book or a film has changed your life, but there is so much to gain from these books wether it be their morals about good and evil, love and family or just the idea that magic could really exist in this world.
At the beginning of this year I had the word 'imagine' tattooed on my wrist, because I believe that it is one of the most powerful tools that we have been given in this world. Harry Potter taught me to imagine, to believe in magic - of any kind, and for this I say THANK YOU.
I am a self confessed Potter fan, and have been since I was about 10 years old. I spent my childhood waiting eagerly for the next book to come out and spending hour upon hour reading them until I'd finished. The last 4 books I read non-stop the day they were released (they went well into the early hours of the morning). I've probably read the entire series about 14 times over- but let's not start to brag, we all know that there are fans out there that are far more crazier than myself... and I salute them.
For me, Harry Potter was a world that whilst scary and unpredictable at times, became an escape from the unpleasant mundane normalities of everyday life. Now some people would argue that, that is simply what a story is for- to transport the audience into another world. Entertainment is not just expression or an art form but a way in which we can transport our minds (and our hearts) into a completely fictional world. For me, HP wasn't just that it was falling in love with the complete goodness that seemed to ooze out of every character and the overwhelming charming-ness of the entire magical world.
The films, however were not the same for me. They didn't harness that same connection that J.K Rowling had with you from the very minute she describe Dumbledore's eyes as he stood in the driveway of Number 4 Privet Drive. They seemed disconnected, and like many adaptations, failed to express all that was detailed in the literary version.
It wasn't until the Half-Blood Prince that I truly started to enjoy the films, and maybe that was because the first couple of films has a lot of baggage in that they had to explain to much that we (and Harry) learnt in the beginning of the series. The last few films also had an amazing style to them that had obviously over the years been cleaned up and perfected. So when the last film was released on Tuesday night it was with such immense pleasure that I felt my imagination has come to life.
The film was spectacular, in fact, I don't think I will ever be able to describe the feeling in words. The entire cinema was cheering as Bellatrix was killed, and Neville beheaded Voldemort's trusty snake Nagini. You could hear the sobs as Snape's final heroic act and long kept secret was finally revealed. It was Snape's story that really got me, and Alan Rickman's amazing portrayal of the love that he held for Lily was so spot on, I could just give him a hug.
The film took certain liberties in terms of the final battle between Voldy and Harry, and whilst this could have easily pissed off an entire world of dedicated lovers, I felt that it was just perfect in creating the much needed suspense and the catharsis that is sometimes so hard to depict on screen.
For the week leading up to the film release I spent my days watching speeches by the cast and the reflections that the entire world made on the series and how much it has changed our lives. It seems silly and cheesy to say that a book or a film has changed your life, but there is so much to gain from these books wether it be their morals about good and evil, love and family or just the idea that magic could really exist in this world.
At the beginning of this year I had the word 'imagine' tattooed on my wrist, because I believe that it is one of the most powerful tools that we have been given in this world. Harry Potter taught me to imagine, to believe in magic - of any kind, and for this I say THANK YOU.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
It's not a gang, it's a family.
This year for uni I have to make a short video. The brief is pretty open, in fact I do believe that you can do whatever the hell you want. I chose to try and challenge myself by doing something I've never done before- Documentary.
I am quite interested in youth subcultures so I thought it was a good place to start. I originally wanted to cover my friends band as they toured and built up their ever-growing fan base. Unfortunately the band broke up earlier this year. I'm absolutely KICKING myself I didn't document the break up because it probably would have made for great viewing.
Through a few friends I started to learn a little more about the Sydney 'scene'- that is the hardcore/metal scene (it's a little hard to define and you'll understand more once you've seen the video). After interviewing a few people I soon become more interested in the straight edge scene in Sydney.
Straight edge is a sub culture that prides itself on living a 'clean' lifestyle. That is no drinking, no smoking no drugs. This can even extend to promiscuous sex, prescription drugs and vegetarianism. After speaking to and filming a few hardcore straight edge guys I knew I learnt of a gang of guys called 9lc.
9lc aren't really a gang, they are a group of guys from all different stereotypes- metal, hardcore, lad, straight edge and even skinhead. Despite conflicting morals and opposing lifestyles, these boys view each other as a family and would quite literally do anything for those who are involved in the group.
The video below is a Trailer for what will be a short documentary focusing on how this group functions together in what can at times be a very fickle and judgemental scene.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
On the Road.
Last weekend I took a trip down to a little town called Deniliquin in southern NSW. My Mum's side of the family is from 'Deni' (as the locals call it), and we took the trip down to celebrate my Great Grandmother's 100th birthday!
It had been 15 years or so since I had been to Deni and I never remembered it being such a beautiful place. To be honest I was really dreading the drive down (8 hours), with the majority of it through bumpy road on what is called the Riverine Plain- the longest stretch of flat land on earth! Despite this, the drive was actually pleasant, as I drove with my Aunt and sister blasting the likes of Lil' Jon, Kanye and other such filthy songs. As we drove we joked about passing through Dunt and screamed as I drove over a rat (at first I thought it was a bird :S). Driving into Deni was something else, seeing the old buildings and pubs juxtaposed next to the gigantic Macdonalds was almost hilarious to look at. But once we got into the center of the town and were faced with the gorgeous old Federal Hotel I really felt a sense of home.
It's kind of odd how we connect ourselves to a place we never lived, let alone only set foot in a couple of times in our life. I guess over the years and as I've grown older I've yearned for a sense of family history. Growing up in a multicultural society I suppose I always felt a little detached to my own culture. My first day of high school the first question I got asked by the other students wasn't what my name was but 'what nationality are you?'. Answering 'Australian' wasn't good enough, because everyone had links to some kind of fancy ethnicity. Since then I've always bugged my family for traces of our origin (which I believe date back to the convicts!) and constantly lied to people about being German, or French or Macedonian.
It wasn't surprising then, when at 15 I decided to christen myself with the middle name 'Matilda', because at least that had some connection with my homeland. When I was about 19 I rang my Nan to ask her of a few family names to add to my ever growing title. I soon discovered that my Great Grandmother who I had always known as Sylvie, was in fact Agnes Sylvester White. What a name! So naturally I stole the Sylvester officially becoming Rebecca Matilda-Rose Sylvester Cassel.
It was also at this time that I would go and visit my Nan and get her to tell me stories about growing up, and the places that she lived. So driving into Deniliquin brought all those stories to life for me, as I imagined my Nan walking down the streets getting up to all sorts of trouble. The history of the town is, in itself, interesting but for me it's the heritage that it brings to my family, and the journey they made from a small country town to the big city so many years ago. It's also the mystery of my ancestors, the missing links I've tried so hard to fill with fantasy along the years. Some people will think I'm just being over dramatic or emotional, but for me, Deniliquin definitely feels like home.
It had been 15 years or so since I had been to Deni and I never remembered it being such a beautiful place. To be honest I was really dreading the drive down (8 hours), with the majority of it through bumpy road on what is called the Riverine Plain- the longest stretch of flat land on earth! Despite this, the drive was actually pleasant, as I drove with my Aunt and sister blasting the likes of Lil' Jon, Kanye and other such filthy songs. As we drove we joked about passing through Dunt and screamed as I drove over a rat (at first I thought it was a bird :S). Driving into Deni was something else, seeing the old buildings and pubs juxtaposed next to the gigantic Macdonalds was almost hilarious to look at. But once we got into the center of the town and were faced with the gorgeous old Federal Hotel I really felt a sense of home.
It's kind of odd how we connect ourselves to a place we never lived, let alone only set foot in a couple of times in our life. I guess over the years and as I've grown older I've yearned for a sense of family history. Growing up in a multicultural society I suppose I always felt a little detached to my own culture. My first day of high school the first question I got asked by the other students wasn't what my name was but 'what nationality are you?'. Answering 'Australian' wasn't good enough, because everyone had links to some kind of fancy ethnicity. Since then I've always bugged my family for traces of our origin (which I believe date back to the convicts!) and constantly lied to people about being German, or French or Macedonian.
It wasn't surprising then, when at 15 I decided to christen myself with the middle name 'Matilda', because at least that had some connection with my homeland. When I was about 19 I rang my Nan to ask her of a few family names to add to my ever growing title. I soon discovered that my Great Grandmother who I had always known as Sylvie, was in fact Agnes Sylvester White. What a name! So naturally I stole the Sylvester officially becoming Rebecca Matilda-Rose Sylvester Cassel.
It was also at this time that I would go and visit my Nan and get her to tell me stories about growing up, and the places that she lived. So driving into Deniliquin brought all those stories to life for me, as I imagined my Nan walking down the streets getting up to all sorts of trouble. The history of the town is, in itself, interesting but for me it's the heritage that it brings to my family, and the journey they made from a small country town to the big city so many years ago. It's also the mystery of my ancestors, the missing links I've tried so hard to fill with fantasy along the years. Some people will think I'm just being over dramatic or emotional, but for me, Deniliquin definitely feels like home.
Our view from the Motel of the Edward River
Not only did I discover a home I never knew, but I got to learn a lot more about my family.
I've always known the women in my family to be strong willed (and extremely out-spoken), but I found a new inspiration of strength as well. My Great nan Sylvie as I mentioned above, turned 100 on July 4th 2011. Not only did she receive a letter from the Queen, and flowers from the Mayor, but she also spent the day in hospital having surgery for a broken hip.
It was hard to see her poor body in such pain, and on such a milestone. We didn't get to celebrate like we had planned but Sylvie did not let that get to her. She still had a wonderful cake- her favourite food in the whole entire world, and her cup of tea. We went to visit her in the hospital, and whilst she didn't remember us too well, she seemed so happy to see us all. When asked how she was feeling she laughed and replied 'Oh I'm fine just this bung leg, how are your kids?'. She even waved us goodbye promising to see us 'next 100th birthday'.
This woman was 100, not only that but she was probably in huge amount of pain and discomfort and she still managed to have us all laughing and even sung Happy Birthday to herself. She is a woman so tough I doubt many things could bring her down. I hope that I can be half the woman she is, strong and determined. Happy Birthday Great Nan, I hope she has many more happy years filled with cake and tea- the secret to longevity!
My nan, with her mother Sylvie.
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