Viva Forever

Watched Avatar a few days ago and enjoyed the film very much. One of the reasons I wanted to watch it, besides the hype from almost everyone I know who’ve seen it and who’ve gushed about it, is that lately I’ve seen many articles posted on the internet about Avatar that opine about the various -isms that the movie apparently did or did not handle well. For example, people have issues with the movie’s apparent racism, ableism, “liberal white guilt” and a bunch of other -isms.

I, for one, didn’t find any of the above criticisms particularly persuasive, especially the assertion that Avatar is white guilt fantasy. I think this article said it best in how it points out that the protagonist at the start of the movie is a lonely ex-marine who’ve lost the ability to walk and have no money to get his legs back. He is very far from the trope of the dashing white guy who brazenly saunters into a land occupied by indigenous people to teach them the ways of the white, ala John Smith.

But what got me was the comment on the article from a guy who asserts that the article and the movie is ableist (see previous link to article about ableism in Avatar). The comment postulates that people with disabilities shouldn’t be made to feel incomplete just because of their disabilities. The comment and the article implies that the movie is ableist in having the protagonist seem preoccupied and unhappy about being disabled and that he wants to be “fixed”.

I have a lot of issues with that sentiment because of how slippery-slope it is. I agree that there should be more media that portrays people with disabilities as being capable, independent people, and I’d be more than happy if there would be more movies made about people with disabilities who are absolutely comfortable with it. However, I have issue with it being a blanket statement that all people with disabilities should simply accept their disabilities and try to be happy with alternative means of living. Because that means silencing all those people who are unhappy with being disabled because they don’t want to be and telling them they should feel guilty about wanting to be different. Should the protagonist in Avatar be silenced for wanting to walk again, just so that he isn’t ableist?

I think a wider problem is our society’s preoccupation with the notion of “be yourself” and that incongruity what the ideal “yourself” (as molded by societal and media values) is. At face value, it seems like such a nice sentiment, to “be yourself”, in contrast to the evidently bad sentiment of “be what society say you should be”. However, both sentiments impose a command, an order. To compel someone who has a disability who wants to be different from that, so that they can “be themselves” does not seem any better than to compel someone who is comfortable with their disability to want to be “fixed”.

The conflict between the two societal “commands” manifest in more common ways and further hypocrisies become evident. It seems that the following are socially acceptable; dying hair, using coloured contacts, using makeup, dressing in particular ways (e.g. push-up bras), using perfumes and colognes etc. However, plastic surgery such as breast implants and face lifts are not socially acceptable. Outside the arguments that surgery is obviously more intrusive and dangerous, people are quick to jump to the accusations that the latter is “unnatural”, that it’s deceitful i.e. bad (some people in fact get very offended by plastic surgery, see some of the comments to this article). But isn’t cosmetic surgery just part of the self-enhancement spectrum that makeup and hair dying is on? They’re all about making yourself look a certain way, to be more appealing in a way that you want. Why is some of that okay but others not?

IMO, there is nothing wrong with putting on makeup, or getting plastic surgery or wanting to walk again if you’ve lost your legs, if that would truly make one happier, after having eliminated the possibility of peer pressure or any other incidental reason (psychological or otherwise) for such desire. One shouldn’t be guilted into not doing something out of fear of condemnation or shaming because their wants do not fit the “be yourself” mantra. Because “yourself” does not necessarily mean it’s statically who you are currently, but it also encompasses who you want to be. And if “being yourself” means wanting change, then why not?

In a hypothetical perfect world where getting cosmetic surgery have zero surgical risk, is 100% reliable, cheap, painless and quick, would you condemn someone who’ve got a boob job or a face lift? And if you do, do you feel the same way about them having dyed their hair, wears cleverly flattering clothing and makeup?

Went to Supanova last weekend, haven’t been to a convention in years! It was great, though I was too embarrassed to approach cool cosplayers (there were a ton of them) to ask for a photo. But still, had a whole heap o’ fun.

But anyway! The point is, in the spirit of all things geeky, and the fact that I was too busy/lazy to get anything properly cosplay-y done in time, I more or less finished my Gryffindor bag just in time for the convention.

(another photo here)

It’s still missing a lining inside the bag and it won’t get one until I go buy some cloth. Until then I’m trying not to use it too much in case it stretches out inside. But hopefully it should be ready for the next Harry Potter movie premiere! :3 But yeah, I totally had the bag mostly finished MONTHS ago but I just never got around to really finishing it. By now I realise I probably like Ravenclaw better but I have to say Gryffindor’s got great colours. It was a really fun and surprisingly easy project once I got the hang of knitting with a different colour yarn in each hand.

I also finished knitting this a while ago:

(another photo here)

I haven’t worn it because I ended up being really disappointed by the colours… it’s such a neat concept too, using two types of yarn to get a scarf that seems to be made of heaps of colours but the yarn I got sucked monkey balls in terms of colours. That’s what I get for getting the cheap alternative to the expensive kind. With the expensive kind you should be able to get something like this. Wah so cool.

And finally, here’s what I’m currently working on:

(another photo here)

It’s supposed to be a cabled scarf. This was supposed to have been a birthday present for my mother. Her birthday was in April. Yeah… I just haven’t had much time to knit lately, with work and study and fun times. Also I’m a sloooow knitter and all those bobbles are awfully time consuming. Fingers crossed that it’ll be done by next April.

In conclusion, my life is clearly uber exciting.

Worst. Morning. Ever.

Okay, so yesterday afternoon, just as I was about to go home, my boss (the solicitor I work for) tells me that he needs me to be at the city local court the next day because at that time he has to go to a Family Court conference. Note that I’ve never properly appeared in front of a judge/magistrate before. So I’m nervous as hell and he tells me to not worry and to just be outside the court at 9am the next day and he’ll give me instructions as to what to do.

So today I’m there at the court at 9am, knowing that my matter is going to be heard at 9:30am. My boss saunters into the court at around 9:10am. He tells me the gist of the matter and what he needs me to do, while I madly scribble it all down on a piece of paper.

He certainly made it sound simple. Basically it was just a case review in front of a magistrate. A case review happens to civil cases every once in a while to make sure that the matter moves along and is on track to be resolved. We were the defendants and all I had to do was ask for the current review to be postponed. What happened was that both us and the plaintiffs were previously ordered to have evidence exchanged by February, but both sides had delays. The plaintiffs only gave us our documents a week ago and our evidence, which was a report from an expert witness who was out of the country until last Wednesday, was just about ready.

After getting the gist of what I was supposed to do, I rushed to find the courtroom I needed to be. I find that my matter was the first one on the list to be heard (the list being a list of cases to be heard that morning, for minor matters like our case reviews and people seeking directions and such… basically stuff too minor for a proper hearing but still need to be decided by a magistrate). I was heaps nervous but I thought that since I had relatively straightforward instructions it should be okay.

I met the plaintiff’s solicitor outside the courtroom and I had a chat with her. She was quite nice and was also instructed to postpone the review. At this point I was relatively relieved and was only worried about speaking in front of a magistrate.

Now here’s the thing. I’m not a solicitor yet, I’m just a law clerk. Therefore, before I can even introduce myself to the magistrate, I have to seek leave from him/her, to ask their permission to be there. I’ve heard from people that some judges/magistrates hate having to deal with law clerks and get grumpy at them because they prefer dealing with lawyers who are properly instructed and know the law. I thought, the worst that could happen is that I might annoy the judge but since I have pretty good instructions, it should be sufficient to get me through.

So anyway, ours was the first contested matter to be heard. The courtroom was absolutely packed (all seats taken, many lawyers having to stand) because there was some 50 cases to be heard by the magistrate that morning.

The magistrate called our case name. The plaintiff solicitor and I approached the bench. The other solicitor introduced herself. Then it was my turn. I asked the magistrate the standard, “I seek leave to appear”.

Then came the answer. The magistrate said, looking mighty angry, “No I will not grant you leave to appear”.

He went on about how in the case review he needs the solicitor to be present. He talked about how we were late and contravened the previous orders. He quoted sections from the practice notes. But all I could think of was, “Oh shitballs, what the hell do I do now??“. I have never heard of law clerks actually NOT getting leave to appear, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do. The magistrate kept ranting at me about how it was inappropriate that I am seeking leave. The room with scores of lawyers present, was absolutely silent, it felt, while the magistrate went on. I managed to squeak out that the plaintiffs were late too with their evidence and so they contravened the orders as well, but the magistrate retorted that it wasn’t for me to submit that but for the solicitor.

He then said something like, “if you want me to make orders, these are the orders I’d make”. He gave orders to basically say that the defence (us) will not be allowed to serve any evidence and that the whole defence might be struck out altogether (i.e. we’ll need to restart the case from scratch) if the solicitor doesn’t show up by the end of this list. My hands were absolutely shaking while I scribbled those orders down as the magistrate listed them off.

The magistrate then called for the next matter on the list and we were dismissed. I rang and smsed my boss many times but he didn’t respond, undoubtedly because he was in the Family Court. Not knowing what to do, I called Tim to tell him what happened and the upsetness really set in. I went to the bathroom and got a bit teary, mostly because of how devastatingly bad it went. I felt like I somehow ruined our client’s case, and in front of heaps of lawyers no less.

But I pulled myself together and just waited, keeping my eyes on the phone. I sat in the courtroom and watched the magistrate hear other people’s case. I felt a little better seeing the magistrate interacting with other people, and concluded that he’s basically mean to everyone.

Finally my boss was done with the Family Law stuff and rushed to the local court. He appeared before the magistrate, whom totally told him off. In the end the magistrate ordered that our client pay the other side $900 for today’s hearing. Just like that. The other side didn’t even have to argue for the costs, the magistrate just pulled that number out of the ether. So yeah, conclusion: meanest magistrate ever.

I spent the rest of the day writing letter after letter at work, before rushing off to class that ended at 9:11pm. Long fucking day. I cannot express how tired I am. I’m rushing this entry because I’m so sick of typing words and am in dire need to shoot something for a little while before going to bed.

And tomorrow? I have to go to the Federal Court for a subpoena matter. All by myself again. Fingers crossed that it’ll turn out a bit better than today.

I’m currently clearing out all the papers and work books that I hadn’t had the heart to throw out since I started attending school. In front of me is evidence of about 17 years of schooling and it pains me to throw out work books from so many years ago (I’m very attached to my intellectual property).

Anyway, I stumbled across my year 6 (I was about 10 at the time) work book and I found a short story in it titled, “The Antique Shop”. Here’s how it goes (bad grammar and spelling retained):

While I was visiting an Indian Market, I wandered into an Indian Antique shop. To my surprise the owner of the shop knew how to speak English. “Hello”, he said with a deep accent, “Can I help you?” “No, I’m just looking.” I replied. The items in the shop is very queer. There was a bull’s head, some black and strangely shaped balloons and a silver crown which I wanted to buy. The man came out and with a pen. “20 pounds.” He said. “20 pounds! That’s way to much for a pen!” I exclaimed. “This pen comes froms Greece. It is very valuable.” He said. “What about 10 pounds?” I argued. “Sold” He said. I went back to England very proud of my pen. I was about to write a letter to my aunt in Australia. Thats when I realized that there is no ink and no place to put ink. I have been ripped-off!

Worst story ever.

Guess what?

Finally found a place to live! It’s a modest unit that, I think, is absolutely adorable inside. It’s got a tiny, newly renovated bathroom and kitchen and the amount of living space is perfect for Tim and I. While the rent is a bit dear, the costs even out as I can probably walk to and from work from the place (or take a 3 minute car ride), hence saving travel expenses and most importantly, time lost in travelling!

I absolutely cannot believe we were picked out of all the other applicants though. When we went for the property inspection, there were 12 other people there who was also looking around. Tim overheard a couple gushing about how they really liked the place. We thought we’d have no chance given our dismal rental history (i.e. none) and currently meager income. Nonetheless, we put in our application and hoped for the best.

During the break at college this morning, I got a phone call from the agent. Part of the phone call went like this:
Agent: So you’ve never rented before?
Me: Yes.
Agent: And you still live with your parents?
Me: Yes.
Agent: And Tim also hasn’t rented before and he still lives with his parents?
Me: Yes.
[Pause]
[Heart sinks]
Agent: … Well would you like to come to our office today to put down a $300 holding deposit and come in on Friday to sign the lease?
Me: Whaaaa-sure!! Of course!

WHAT A TWIST! It was pretty surreal and completely surprising. I could barely concentrate on class after that, with not only the excitement about renting out first time EVER but also the new worries about moving and buying stuff.

Thankfully our collective families have amassed enough unwanted stuff that they’re happy to palm it off on us, which means our starting costs other than the bond and other costs are minimised. But we still need to figure out when/how to move stuff, how to connect the utilities, and very importantly, how to get internet up and running ASAP. By that, I mean we should really try to get that all figured out before we sign the lease on Friday.

In the midst of all this (including the large chunks of my days taken up by college of law) I have a 60% assessment for Family Law to prepare for Thursday. It’s a mock-hearing for an interim property application. Oh joy.

Blargh, such a tiring day. Can’t be bothered to look over what I wrote. Time to sleep. =_=