Women truly are the biggest threat to feminism-comment on Anissa's journal


Anissa, your journal has had the power to inspire me yet again.


I am here nodding my head as I read through your post. I too believe that women are women’s main enemy. We put on friendly faces but spend the majority of time judging each other.


My friend has just pulled out of a mothers group for the comments and pressure put upon her when she stopped breast feeding her baby at 5 months and decided to go back to work a few days a week.

One woman actually asked her “Are you that hard up?”.


My cousin works full-time, her husband stays at home with their infant son. The older women in my family talk about how she does nothing to help out at home, how she’s lazy. Yet if she was at home/not work and he got home from work after 6 each night and would rather spend a few hours with his son rather then vacuum,  I’m sure he would be applauded.


Julia Gillard’s latest hair-style, or the fact that she’s single and childless gets more media attention then the political ideals that she stands for.


I disagree with your thoughts on sex being just an exchange of power and bodily fluids. Sex can be more then that, it can be about giving, sharing, intimacy, closeness, an understanding; the physical action of illustrating your love for another person.


A complete selflessness.


A greater empathy is needed in all our human interactions.

We as women need to accept each other before we can gain an equality of respect in a man’s world. 






Sem4 week 9 comment



Carmel’s journal and thoughts on “Shooting an Elephant”.


I am interested in how many of us in class feel that Orwell had no choice but to shoot the elephant in the story. I feel that he did, but he sucuumed to the pressure of expectation from the people. Unlike Orwell’s Winston who endured weeks, months of horendous torture before he betrayed his own sense of truth and love for Julia, Orwell himself caved in to an expectation of taunts and a sense of disregard.


The actual description of the elephant being shot and dying slowly is traumatic, it definatly leaves a strong impression. When I was 12, at a property a couple of hours outside of Broken Hill, I saw a Bull being shot in order to be buthchered and eaten. The bull only fell down after 8 bullets were shot into his body, then a final shot between his eyes killed him. Watching him run, then stagger and finally fall while being shot so many times was very unerving. I understood that he was being killed for food, but the bulls own tenacity and refusal to be betten, and the shooters exasperation and mounting anxiety made the situation traumatic for me.


Because of this experience reading “Shooting an Elephant” took on an extra level of visual association.   


Franz Marc (1880-1916): Elephant (Elefant), 1907, chalk, Kunsthalle, Hamburg.

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    irritated irritated

S4 Week 9 Orwell

For me the most essential insight of Orwell’s 1984 was the realisation of the power that language has to control and convince groups of people. Individually Winston fights within himself to retain elements of truth and pure emotion, while the world and those around him becomes more and more condensed, losing all sense of emotion as the words are lost to them. Without an understanding of a feeling, a word to categorise its meaning and affect on our existence how can it really exist at all?


The main part of this insight that resonated with me is how the control of language can and is used as a method of control in our current time. Are newspaper headlines today any more honest then those produced by the Ministry of Truth? 
Consider the power of media mogul Rupert Murdoch; to what extent is the truth altered- or even not reported on, based on the ideals of one man?


I have become more aware of groups of language that exist in our society. The language of sales for instance- say skincare: smooth, soft, gentle, clear, fresh, invigorating, rejuvenating, silky, beautiful, gorgeous, hydrated, moist, plump etc.

The language is designed to entice, to create a desire to experience the effects of the product-to sell.


There are specific languages for politics, religions, academia, the defence forces etc.

All have the power to affect change.
We must each of us hold within a little piece of Winston and his ability to know his own truth.


  • Current Music
    Rain just starting to fall heavily outside my window

Virginia Woolf

The writer out of the three listed that has most played on my mind over the last few weeks has been Virginia Woolf. We talked in our tute about “Modern Fiction” p2087, with particular regard to the idea of casting all else aside and forcing to the forefront your own creative path. There is no time for the mundane, no time for the battles and the chores of the everyday. Put your own self and your art/work first and foremost.

Initially I didn’t value Woolf’s thoughts on this. Thoughts that are again mirrored in “The Mark on the Wall” p 2082 when she says “I want to think quietly, calmly, spaciously, never to be interrupted, never to have to rise from my chair, to slip easily from one thing to another, without any sense of hostility, or obstacle.”  I was slightly annoyed at her for seemingly trying to get out of the work that is part of maintaining a clean, healthy and organised way of life. Also I felt that she was encouraging selfishness, suggesting perhaps that taking time to love and care for one another and be selfless at the benefit of others was wrong. I don’t agree with her ideas here. I also found myself realising that certain connections of knowledge and understanding often come to me when I am doing something else, like driving or washing up, sweeping the floor etc. Things that become to a certain extent automatic and allow for you to be calm and open to thinking more deeply BUT still get the work done. So I thought she was a bit pathetic, however, whilst I was driving this afternoon my mind took my thoughts to another level.

The band Block Party was playing on the radio, they have had a lot of airplay recently on Triple J, partly because they just toured, and I like their music very much, but I don’t have any myself. I actually started thinking about how if I was 17,18 or 19 now Block Party would have had a great effect on me, as in I feel I connect with the music, but if I was younger, it could have been a really defining influence and accompanying soundtrack to my life. Why though? Why not now and why have I not even bought their recent album. Realisation, I’m too busy with other things. I’m too distracted by so many other so called essential elements of my life to allow myself to take the time, as you do at a younger age, to build a much deeper and more ‘truthful’ understanding and ultimate connection with art and music in particular.


I have realised that I am going through life making these partial connections, developing these partial understandings.


Perhaps there is something to Woolf’s ‘selfishness’ after all. 

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wk4 s2 07 comment industrial area

I find the emptiness of industrial areas on a Sunday afternoons haunting. The often ramshackle sheds and buildings crammed together. Oil stained cement, dirty faded paint, sign written 30 years ago smearing the landscape. Pieces of rusted iron barely holding on to the roofs they are meant to cover. The smell of diesel, of oil, of dried sweat, aged over years and the many apprentices long moved on. 

The weekend uselessness of the place, its fearful desolation. Coke cans and burger wrappers kicking along in the wind, kicking around the corners into edges dirty with dust and stones.   


There is eeriness about areas like this, and for me a sense of foreboding. A place as a kid I would imagine you would be warned against playing around for the danger of strange characters lurking. Big bully kids looking for their next victim or creepy, sinister men looking for the same.


I will purposely go out of my way to avoid driving through industrial areas, on any day of the week, and go to great pains to pass on chores involving using these areas. I find the landscape depressing, hostile and ominous.    



  • Current Music
    jjj radio

20thc wk2 comment


Tamara’s entry resinated with me. Gerald Manley Hopkins’s poems have sort of snuck into my consciousness also.


“However, I believe that this is the first time that I have truly reflected on the words of the poem and the beauty that they are able to convey. Sounds contrived perhaps, but as I read over the first two lines I can feel the words flowing through me, just as they describe the breeze and light that flows through the cages created by the branches” Tamara


His poems do seem to flow through you like a breeze. ‘Binsey Poplars’p1519 has some lovely imagery but it is the way that Hopkins organises the words to be so musical that I like. I'm still researching 'sandelled'.  



20thc wk2 entry

Over the first two weeks of class for this semester the poem that has left the greatest impression on me is ‘Dulce Et Decorum Est’ (It is sweet and decorous to die for one’s country) by Wilfred Owen p1974. I have found myself thinking about it several times over the past two weeks for a few different reasons and ways. 

The very direct and shocking language, and the portrayal of the soldier’s terrible, painful breathless death is in opposition to the poem’s title which is an example of the type of propaganda, and the general social belief that was going on at the time. In fact this sort of propaganda still goes on. Anyone who has been to an ANZAC dawn service at an Army Barracks would have experienced this. I feel from talking with many service people that the majority of them are aware of the irony that the inbuilt system-the blanket honouring of tradition and ones country, presents, yet they still believe in the value of protecting their country and those they love. This is expressed in Rupert Brooke’s ‘The Soldier’ p1954, the language being accessible and beautiful presents the reader with a much more romanticised view of dying for one’s country.

Last week I was at an army barracks waiting for my husband, who is a soldier. There was a poster displayed in an office window. 
It said-

“Journalists didn’t give you freedom of speech, soldiers did.

Politicians didn’t give you democracy, soldiers did.” 

There were a couple more with the same type of sentiment that I can’t recall.

My husband walked over to me and said “What’s that, a bit of grunt (infantry soldier) propaganda?” 

So he, like the majority of service people are aware of the way language is used to coerce and mould in the Defence Forces. And he, like the majority of service people are part of these services not because they desire to kill, maim or torture enemy soldiers and innocent civilians but because they actually want to help people, because they want to be a part of something that helps to protect the innocent and the oppressed. Thankfully the Australian Defence Force’s are engaged primarily in situations where they can do this, with dignity and respect for the people they protect.

In saying all that there are some complete dickheads about, unfortunately for the Defence Force’s these are the people that make good news headlines, and create a bad image of the group as a whole. 

This is my husband Rohin leaving for deployment recently in The Soloman Islands

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    hopeful hopeful

final LJ's for marking


21st May

7:52 pm - Anna in the Tropics

I went to see Anna in the Tropics at the Belvoir St Theatre on Sunday night. The play was written by Nilo Cruz and this version was directed by Nicholas Papademetriou. Set in Tampa, Florida in Tampa, Florida 1929 in a cigar-rolling factory the workers lives are changed when the new man employed to read to them, the lector, introduces Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. I enjoyed the story and found that the workers reaction to their first experience of Tolstoy to be parallel to my own. They were swept up in the characters and the emotional intensity of their situations. 
The characters in Anna in the Tropics began to examine their own lives and their relationships. Literature has the power to make people question their own lives, particularly an author like Tolstoy.

Anna Karenina has always stuck in my mind for the tragedy of Anna loving a man other then her husband, leaving her marriage and being denied a relationship with her son. A character in Anna in the Tropics began an affair after recognising her own unhappiness in the character of Anna. The affair isn’t the key factor in either the novel or the play though, it is the reflection of a life well lived, making choices that will ultimately feed your soul, but also being a selfless person, as seen in the character on Nikita in Master and Man. As you can imagine where adultery is involved the above factors are not always came about easily or simply. Perhaps that is why Tolstoy remains so relevant in modern day, the moral questions and he makes us ask ourselves and the life fulfilment level that he forces us to examine, while being a part of an ever-tempting material and sexualised, selfish world can be recognised by many. 

Anna in the Tropics THEATRONgroup

From the company that brought you Greek Tragedy in 2002 comes our first B Sharp production for 2007.

" ...a first-rate entertainment that will linger in your heart and mind longer than most." Diana Simmonds, Stage Noise 24.4.07

Nilo Cruz

Nicholas Papademetriou

Zoë Carides, Christina Falsone, Rom Gulla, Radek Jonak, Dina Panozzo, Nicholas Papademetriou, Lani Tupu and Steve Vella


It is 1929 and Anna Karenina hits the steamy Tampa, Florida, by way of handsome Juan Julian who has been employed to read to cigar rollers as they work. In the hothouse environment of the factory, his choice of Tolstoy’s epic novel stirs passions and emotions that have been simmering for months as the lives of the workers are mirrored in the book. Ultimately the potent force of the novel causes all of them to think about what is at stake in life and love and the results change their existence forever.

Winner of the 2003 Pulitzer Prize for Drama, Anna in the Tropics is about love and progress and change and the transformative effect that literature can have on our lives.

(comment on this)




11:10 pm
- Timely poem

The afternoon sun is still orange                   


The afternoon sun is still orange, warm upon the earth, 
absorbed by blades of grass now slowed in their growth
empty spaces tinkle, sparkle the crispness of the flowing force southern
Clean and sharp and biting in the shade, awakening us to the long darkness-
cold morning tiles ahead.
Scented energy, spirited humming

caught. Nostrils teased, taught, taunted by transience

Autumn afternoon





Week 6 - Untitled Prose Piece by Renee Morgan


[Apr. 5th, 2007|08:31 pm]

1:07 pm - Renee's Coketown

Renee, I saw strong comparisons with the continual day to day drudgery that Dickens presented us with in Hard Times. The factory smoke is continual, the days are long and meaningless. When speaking about Coketown (the name of which I find ironic considering our worlds current over consumerism of the brand and softdrink and the mass industry that that must create), he writes "It contained several large streets all very like one another, and many small streets still more like one another, inhabited by people equally like one another, who all went in and out at the same hours, with the same sound upon the pavements, to do the same work and to who every day was the same as yesterday and to-morrow, and every year the counterpart of the last and the next."

That repetition of form and structure is draining to even read. While Dickens's descriptons of the town does refer to the people more than Engells does, it still does not mention the mental torture, the depressing and hopless affect this would of been felt by the workers and people of the town. The woman in your story is the modern day version of one of the workers of that time. Her life has a sense of hoplessness and a coating of the filth and polution of her everyday (both literal and metaphorical. Her spirit has been broken by the repetition of the robotic lack of meaning her day to day experience of life contains. Your story, sadly ,could be based on one of many millions of people in our consumerist obsessed world. Do we as a society still think that our mass industry and un-impassioned existance will bring us a "world without end" as Dickens so poignantly satarises?



Brigalow Country, Judith Wright

This is a print series that I did last semester based on the poem Brigalow Country from Seven Songs from a Journey by Judith Wright.
I was so inspired by Wrights emotive relationship with the Australian landscape and the spiritual essense of the country.

Brigalow Country

When the metal-blue moon
plays tunes on the hut-roof,
and the long slope darkens
with its brigalow tribe,
then Margery dances,
awkward as an emu-
dances for the useless
coin of the moon.

Haunted and alone

with the tribe of the brigalows,

their steel-coloured leaves

as curved as a skinning-knife,

her sidelong eye

as queer as the moonlight,

Margery dances

to the singing of the dingoes.


Living lost and lonely

with the tribe of the brigalows,

don’t want to stay

but never can go.

Never get no money

For when I go hungry,

never get no kisses

for when I feel sad-

rooted like the brigalows         

until I’m dead.


When the bright tin moon

plays tunes on the hut-roof

Margery dances

in her long pale hair.

and the tribe of the brigalows

drop their shadows

like still black water, 
and watch her there.