Fifty Shades of Porn

Fifty Shades of Grey is most definitely a piece of erotica novella, every chapter includes a sex scene or two or three and each more descriptive than the last. I can understand why it would be a crowd pleaser as sex always sells and its simplistic way of writing holds your attention. Personally, I found the storyline ‘do-able’ as the main character, Christian Grey, is not your everyday Prince Charming but instead some perverted and damaged S&M control freak billionaire who still remains loveable because he is rich and gorgeous (women are such suckers). The amount of sex in this novel became tedious and I found myself rolling my eyes and skipping it.  Some sex scenes were just way too over the top;

"He reaches between my legs and pulls on the blue string...what! And...gently pulls my tampon out and tosses it into the nearby toilet." 

^That’s just gross. I feel gross just typing that out.

I couldn't help but laugh at the poor writing skills displayed at certain intervals, the words; murmur, whisper, oh my and inner goddess are used throughout the book more than 80 times. I never want to see the words inner goddess again nor do I want anyone referring to their vagina as their inner goddess...are you freaking kidding me?

The main reason that compelled me to continue reading the trilogy was my growing curiosity in needing to know why Christian Grey is so messed up. What could have possibly made him so dark? I eventually get my answer in Fifty Shades Darker which is elaborated later in the third installment Fifty Shades Freed. However, these novels are just so slow, a lot of events occur but it just feels like love scene after love scene...which quite frankly is so overdone. The only thing that redeems these last two books is a detached piece of writing at the end of book three describing Christian Grey’s point of view on an event that happened in the first book. As all three books are written from Anastasia Steele’s perspective, I found this little piece to be extremely interesting and clever. The majority of the plot twists are ridiculous but then again it is a fiction-based book. All in all if you have nothing better to do I suggest you give it a go but if you’re looking for a book that will ultimately "change your life", DON'T EVEN BOTHER.

2 out of 5 stars

Abomination in Design

RMIT UNIVERSITY- It has an internationally recognized reputation for architecture and design. However, its designs along Swanston Street in Melbourne CBD leave much to be desired. Its lack of integration between modern and Gothic revival architecture creates an eye sore out of the streetscape.

  Building 8

Building 8 is geometric in form and is reminiscent of a child’s toy-box. The underlying concept is trivial and appears superficial and undeveloped. Why would a university showcase such an underwhelming design that has no relevance to what the students strive to become but backtracks to a time of infancy? I am all for concepts that have a degree of playfulness and eccentricity but they need to be executed properly. If you strip this building’s facade all you will be left with is an array of coloured tiles and storybook windows with gold metal frames and if you look at it long enough it begins to take shape of a rather fragmented game of Tetris. This is the perfect space to make a strong architectural impact; it should be a source of inspiration on the way to lectures or work, though I find myself deliberately avoiding it by trying not to look up. A friend of mine describes the building “as a sadistic motive to give epileptic seizures to anyone who walks by”. 

As this is designed by an Architect it is considered innovative and fresh, however if a student was to design anything remotely similar they would be laughed at and receive an immediate fail. This is a wishy washy design, which attempts to be clever and eccentric but has become an embarrassing piece of architecture. RMIT you can do better.

Style for Style?

Over the past few years my style can be summed up into 3 words; flats, cardigans and jeans. That's pretty much all I wear; to uni, to shopping, to bars etc. To tell you the truth tho, I am so tired of flats, cardigans and jeans that if I see another pair I will scream. However, today's fashion isn't exactly inspiring, young adult women dress like men with the militant boots and scraggy petti-coats, tweenies look like hookers wearing one piece of material wherever they go and I REFUSE to dress like an old woman.

I could go rock chick but to tell you the truth I can't see myself pulling off a slasher T-shirt with tight skinny jeans and tattoos all over my body. I refuse to walk into sports-girl to try on bohemian hippy shit because that's not me either. On the other side of the spectrum I could always go as a girly-girl but I don't exactly want to be branded as an air-head before I open my mouth.

So, due to this dilemma I consult my boyfriend on advice about what he would like me to wear. BIG MISTAKE. That's how I got into this flats, cardigans and jeans rut in the first place.  According to my fashion guru's rules; no heels, no boots, nothing too-business like (pencil-skirts out, shirts with vests out), no gladiator sandals or anything remotely roman, no tight dresses and NOTHING THAT IS BLUE. But all these rules can be counter-acted if I wear a top that shows serious cleavage. SIGH. So again I am back to square one with one thought in mind ; serious cleavage. I roam Melbourne Central looking for a reasonably priced top that shows cleavage, with no luck and my mind numbed by pure frustration, I start to think...

What would I like to wear?

Seeing as this is MY body, MY temple in question...what do I feel suits my shape? What do I feel comfortable in? And what makes ME feel good?

No offence to my better half but I love heels and boots, I love tight dresses that I can get away with, blue is a nice colour as my eyes are blue and vests are awesome. Loving these things and wanting to wear them doesn't make me a fashion blunder, it just makes my tastes different which is an excellent thing otherwise we might as well all wear generic uniforms, so our inner eccentricity dies and conformity rises.

The Catholic Church; a repugnant business

When I was younger I was told that Religion should be a major factor in one's life. God was a merciful being who would forgive you of all your sins. Everything that was good in the world was by the grace of God's hand and everything evil was Satan's doing. Creationism was taught in primary school while evolution was buried way in the back. At 11 yrs old, I still believed that Eve screwed us all over because she ate an apple. But that was the type of child I was, always did what I was told and could retain and regurgitate information when prompted too.

It was not until Year 10 when I started questioning the notion of religion as I learned more and more about the Catholic Church. I saw Catholicism in a darker light, stories of molestation surfaced- the so-called "men of God" were molesting children and the church was hiding their secrets. The Catholic Church refuses to acknowledge same-sex marriages, but its perfectly acceptable for a grown man to molest an innocent child because he has urges that he has been repressing since he joined the church? The Catholic Church abides by the teachings of the bible where it is considered a sin to go to the toilet and God floods the world on his own accord killing everyone except two of each animal and a man named Noah. The Catholic Church does not recognize love between a Catholic and an Orthodox follower but if you pay a little extra they will marry you anyway. The Catholic Church sees fit to take a huge percentage out of your children's school fees because your priest needs a brand new Mercedes while your children have to share a computer to work at school. 

I am truly disgusted to call myself a Catholic, I refuse to partake in communion during masses and in every religious conversation I attempt to put as much distance from myself and the Church as possible. Religion is toxic, it breeds hate and ignorance where it should encourage love and faith. It is a form of brainwashing and programs us to believe that we will by judged by a merciless God when we die...if we go to mass regularly and donate money to the church we will ascend into the gates of heaven but if not you will burn in hell for eternity. It was said somewhere that God or Jesus did not require us to build temples in order to pray and ask for guidance, anywhere you were would suffice. So why do we need a Catholic Church? Why must we 'employ' priests to guide us when they have no greater wisdom than anyone else? Why should we invest our hard earned money into a 'business' that is clearly corrupt?

There is a reason why Atheism is on the rise, God is getting a bad reputation by its representative-the Church. I for one will not be fooled anymore by this institutions contradictory beliefs and money-hungry attitude. I still believe in God as it offers comfort in my everyday life but I will 'worship' him in my own way and will not be bombarded by a Churches fake propaganda. 

Oz Comic Con 2012

Comic Con had so much potential, I thought it would be an amazing eye opening experience in the world of Comic book nerds. We arrived to storm troopers patroling the giant line which was entertaining as well as the enthusiastic people dressed as there favorite comic book hero or villan. The appeal eventually wore off as we were made to wait an hour lining up. When we were finally allowed in, the exhibition room was packed. It took 20 minutes to move from stall to stall.It was evident they had no idea how popular an event like this would be. The biggest downfall was the confusion regarding Stan Lee. Huge lines formed in the middle of the complex and people waited hours to see him without any luck. It was a disgusting effort made by the organizers. I didn't even see Patrick Stewart. And so much for nerds being nice and meek people I was pushed, bumped and practically prodded the entire time. Comic Con is just an overpriced busy store, the whole experience was draining, frustrating and infuriatingly disappointing.

A few of my favorite things;

This composition includes images of my favorite things; catwoman, coffee, city living and music. An array of Photoshop techniques were used; mostly magic wand to cut out each graphic, hue and saturation to continue the colour theme through the artwork, opacity to create layers of depth and silhouettes.

Life as a Wog

Words cannot describe how frustratingly bizarre it is to be a wog. One minute my family are enjoying our nightly buffet of food, next thing I know there's screaming and yelling, finger biting and weird hand gestures only Italians can decipher. The old traditions, the warped sense of family obligation, the rules and restrictions, I just can't understand them, I feel as if there just control mechanisms. I reject them so much that I go as far to say I am not Italian because I don't want to be classified in the same 'group' as these illogical people. I don't want the big wog wedding where you invite 200 people (half of them you have never seen before), I don't want to have to be married to move out of the house and I certainly don't want to be interrupted mid-conversation and ordered to remove the dishes after a big family dinner.

The one thing I find totally unforgivable is that the women are always expected to do the domestic tasks...this is the fucking 21st century and quite frankly I've had enough of this backwards thinking. I am so tired of being asked to detach myself from a conversation to clean up after everyone while my brother and dad sit there drinking a beer. The daughters are asked to do everything while the sons are being treated like kings. I say get the fuck up and help.  I am no better or no worse than you so we should be treated equally. I would never marry anyone who expected this of me and if I had a son I would teach him to get up and help his sister or girlfriend clean the dishes, cook dinner and clean the house.


Another thing that I cannot stand is the exaggerated in-family gossip. A bunch of vecchi (old people) talking about how this person isn't married yet or how that person should be ashamed because their great grandmother cheated on her husband...like honest to god who cares? But you can't say anything to them because that would be disrespecting you're elders. And we go around and around in circles until one person has had enough and an in-family brawl occurs. The evil eye comes out, more Italian profanities, curses etc until someone grows some balls, holds up the white flag in surrender and the storm calms. Call me confrontational, call me rude but I refuse to respect anyone young or old who enjoys talking about me behind my back.

What was once a nationality i was proud of being apart of, is now the reason why I am angry and frustrated all the time. This close-minded thinking is what hinders me from achieving my full potential in life and I assume many others. Sometimes you have to march to your own beat and its very difficult to do that when you're a wog.