I went for a run in the afternoon today. Straight after weights. Following up a lunchtime soccer session. On the same day as PE, which was admittedly speedball/vortex, but still left me pretty tired chasing around in the hope of catching the thing.
Conditions were good, despite bucketing rain leaving a wet pavement. No choking pollution induced by Toorak Rd roadworks. No gale force headwind up the long northward straight. No excuses for a bad time from the environment.
First lap was a fairly sluggish 7:47. My best lap was 6:56, but then again I have had some fairly leisurely 8:00+ laps so it wasn't too bad. On the second lap, 3 slow minutes in, i started cramping.
After lap 1 I was getting tired, but then after a few hundred metres my legs started getting that dreaded feeling. It wasn't a mega cramp which left me rolling around begging for the torture to stop. I knew at that point that I had to stop and stretch.
My legs were pretty much screaming 'STOP!' There wasn't much point continuing; I was hardly on a record time, and with my limited knowledge of sports science, there were fears permanent damage would be done. I walked pretty much the rest of the way, tried a few slow jogs which led to more cramping then had to stop again.
The result? A grand time of 12:30.7, a full 1 minute and 22 seconds slower than my next best time in which I walked most of it with a stomach ache.
I do believe there is an underlying lesson to be learnt here apart from the obvious 'don't try running 3 k's after a lot of sport on the same day'. Just as too much physical exertion may burn you out and not produce much in terms of results, the same could be said for studying.
What is the point of studying if your thoughts are elsewhere?
Just how much redox theory or wave-particle duality or John Wade or calculus will an indifferent mind absorb?
The upcoming months are about doing the best that you possibly can; the aim is to fulfull your potential.
The key word here is 'you'. While we all dream some time or another of that 99.95, for some that goal is not realistically attainable; yours truly is still hoping, but accepts with a wry smile that there are others smarter, more gifted, harder working and with a better set of subjects than himself.
It's important to keep in mind your own abilities and limitations; while we hear about many people triumphing over adversity due to sheer willpower, there are just as many who accept the gulf between them and their goal, turn their attention elsewhere and find something they find just as fulfilling but better suited to their unique skill set.
My friend Tom suggested my blogs were too long, and while I was hoping to keep this one short it seems like its grown longer than his hair! Its time for me to stop rambling.
Lawrence
Monday, August 31, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
26-Aug-09: sacs are winding up.
Nothing much to talk about here.
Went for a run around the block, pushing myself hard in the second lap to come up with the best time I've got recently, only to realise when I got home that it still wasn't as good as the one set 5 months and a day ago. Still felt good though; I reckon a run once in a while helps refresh the body and gives a break from all the study we have to slog through.
Today was the first time I used the internet since Sunday night. In a way I'm proud of this 'achievement', but it throws up an interesting question: does that mean I'm ashamed of using the internet?
Initially, the answer is no. The internet's a great way for connecting and entertainment. However, I think the sense of achievement comes from the fact that many times in the past, I have moped about on the computer; not so much surfing on the net as wallowing in its vast ocean of potential distractions.
We just had our last prac sac for chem. We've already had our last ever english sac as well as our last non-trial-exam spec sac, and physics sacs are starting to run out. It seemed just a few months ago that we were having our first sacs and getting all worked up about them, but now they're just another stop on the way to the big thing: the end of year exams.
Revision for these exams are starting to pick up, with a full blown english trial exam in about a week. In private study today I was talking to some students who did methods with me last year, and while I did do a lot of practice exams, it was nowhere near what they did; some of them did double or even triple the number that I did. Even though my methods mark was better than I had hoped, perhaps doing those extra trial exams would've given me the score I truly wanted.
I think that this, like my recent running time, shows me just how much harder I can work; that no matter how difficult things may seem during the revision period, there is no real limit to how much practice one can have, and if there is one, it's certainly way above how hard I worked for methods and bio last year.
I'm determined not to make the same mistake this year, and I know that while the year is nearly over, there's still half of the english assesment, 2/3rds of maths, and 1/3 of the sciences left to go, so there's plently of room for all of us to do well!
Cheers,
Lawrence
Went for a run around the block, pushing myself hard in the second lap to come up with the best time I've got recently, only to realise when I got home that it still wasn't as good as the one set 5 months and a day ago. Still felt good though; I reckon a run once in a while helps refresh the body and gives a break from all the study we have to slog through.
Today was the first time I used the internet since Sunday night. In a way I'm proud of this 'achievement', but it throws up an interesting question: does that mean I'm ashamed of using the internet?
Initially, the answer is no. The internet's a great way for connecting and entertainment. However, I think the sense of achievement comes from the fact that many times in the past, I have moped about on the computer; not so much surfing on the net as wallowing in its vast ocean of potential distractions.
We just had our last prac sac for chem. We've already had our last ever english sac as well as our last non-trial-exam spec sac, and physics sacs are starting to run out. It seemed just a few months ago that we were having our first sacs and getting all worked up about them, but now they're just another stop on the way to the big thing: the end of year exams.
Revision for these exams are starting to pick up, with a full blown english trial exam in about a week. In private study today I was talking to some students who did methods with me last year, and while I did do a lot of practice exams, it was nowhere near what they did; some of them did double or even triple the number that I did. Even though my methods mark was better than I had hoped, perhaps doing those extra trial exams would've given me the score I truly wanted.
I think that this, like my recent running time, shows me just how much harder I can work; that no matter how difficult things may seem during the revision period, there is no real limit to how much practice one can have, and if there is one, it's certainly way above how hard I worked for methods and bio last year.
I'm determined not to make the same mistake this year, and I know that while the year is nearly over, there's still half of the english assesment, 2/3rds of maths, and 1/3 of the sciences left to go, so there's plently of room for all of us to do well!
Cheers,
Lawrence
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Parents
Just how important are our parents?
Strangely, I thought about this because of all the iPhones and iTouches I'm seeing around the place. There's nothing wrong with them; I think they're great devices. In the past, I would be envious of others with these new, flashy marvels of technology and wish that I wasn't stuck with my brick phone which was the cheapest phone on the market at about $59 and can't even store music and doesn't have a camera.
Yet curiously, despite my phone being an emblem of what material posessions I do not have, I see it as a symbol of everything I do have. It is not in the best condition as I've been pretty careless with it. There are a series of parallel slashes across the back of the phone, the result of me dropping it on a ski field. Someone skiied over it, picked it up and returned it to my father.
Those ski marks remind me of all the holidays my parents take me on all the time. All the trips to the snow. All the theme parks. All the scenic destinations. All the foreign countries that would leave us with an ever broadening knowledge of the world.
I have friends who have all the xboxes, playstations and things like this, but rarely leave their country. I know that they would happily trade their toys for more holidays, and I would not give up my holidays for these games.
It reminds me of just how lucky I am to have the parents I have. Other parents may be richer. Other parents might be 'cooler'. Other parents may be more lenient. Other parents may spoil and encourage me more.
None of that matters to me.
My parents are not perfect. I know that. But although they can sometimes seem insensitive, I know that they care for me more than anyone else possibly could.
My mum works tirelessly, whether at work or at home. And yet she never complains about it, always willing to drive us around wherever we want or need to.
My dad also works extremely hard. He has to juggle multiple pressing matters, the strain sometimes showing through, but as the leader of the house shows great poise and is also just as willing to take us places.
My dad's constant desire to make things better for us was highlighted when he proposed working overseas; there, he claimed, his income would be more than doubled.
The reaction of our family was unanimous.
We questioned him on how he could possibly survive over there; he can barely cook 2 minute noodles, let alone buy groceries to cook for himself. He would get to see us about once every six months at best.
The fact was, none of us wanted this possibility to become reality; We all enjoy his company and care for him, and the prospect of only seeing him twice a year was unpalatable.
The money was not an issue; I don't think we would support his moving even if his pay was tripled, or quadrupled.
It was just that number of iPhones and playstations and pocket money would be able to compensate for his absence, and we wanted him to be with us.
The whole saga reminded me of just how fortunate I am to have the parents I do. I have a good education, have a decent work ethic, pick up new ideas relatively quickly, and generally conduct myself with dignity and self respect.
I do not thank myself for this; nor do I thank chance, or God, or any other kind of higher entity.
I know that where I am today is almost completely due to my parents.
They have given me the framework for living ever since a young age. They gave me a strong sense of direction for what was right and what was wrong; who I should look up to and who I should avoid; where to go for help and advice and where to steer clear of; how to act in the presence of others; and finally, why I should do all of this.
Sometimes what my parents say don't always sound the best to my teenage ears, but I will remember my mother's words in cantonese, which roughly translates to:
"we will never do anything to harm you"
It sounds obvious and silly in english, but those six words in my native tongue encapsulates the complete and utter care they have for me, and my only hope is that someday I will be able to repay that back to them.
Loz
Strangely, I thought about this because of all the iPhones and iTouches I'm seeing around the place. There's nothing wrong with them; I think they're great devices. In the past, I would be envious of others with these new, flashy marvels of technology and wish that I wasn't stuck with my brick phone which was the cheapest phone on the market at about $59 and can't even store music and doesn't have a camera.
Yet curiously, despite my phone being an emblem of what material posessions I do not have, I see it as a symbol of everything I do have. It is not in the best condition as I've been pretty careless with it. There are a series of parallel slashes across the back of the phone, the result of me dropping it on a ski field. Someone skiied over it, picked it up and returned it to my father.
Those ski marks remind me of all the holidays my parents take me on all the time. All the trips to the snow. All the theme parks. All the scenic destinations. All the foreign countries that would leave us with an ever broadening knowledge of the world.
I have friends who have all the xboxes, playstations and things like this, but rarely leave their country. I know that they would happily trade their toys for more holidays, and I would not give up my holidays for these games.
It reminds me of just how lucky I am to have the parents I have. Other parents may be richer. Other parents might be 'cooler'. Other parents may be more lenient. Other parents may spoil and encourage me more.
None of that matters to me.
My parents are not perfect. I know that. But although they can sometimes seem insensitive, I know that they care for me more than anyone else possibly could.
My mum works tirelessly, whether at work or at home. And yet she never complains about it, always willing to drive us around wherever we want or need to.
My dad also works extremely hard. He has to juggle multiple pressing matters, the strain sometimes showing through, but as the leader of the house shows great poise and is also just as willing to take us places.
My dad's constant desire to make things better for us was highlighted when he proposed working overseas; there, he claimed, his income would be more than doubled.
The reaction of our family was unanimous.
We questioned him on how he could possibly survive over there; he can barely cook 2 minute noodles, let alone buy groceries to cook for himself. He would get to see us about once every six months at best.
The fact was, none of us wanted this possibility to become reality; We all enjoy his company and care for him, and the prospect of only seeing him twice a year was unpalatable.
The money was not an issue; I don't think we would support his moving even if his pay was tripled, or quadrupled.
It was just that number of iPhones and playstations and pocket money would be able to compensate for his absence, and we wanted him to be with us.
The whole saga reminded me of just how fortunate I am to have the parents I do. I have a good education, have a decent work ethic, pick up new ideas relatively quickly, and generally conduct myself with dignity and self respect.
I do not thank myself for this; nor do I thank chance, or God, or any other kind of higher entity.
I know that where I am today is almost completely due to my parents.
They have given me the framework for living ever since a young age. They gave me a strong sense of direction for what was right and what was wrong; who I should look up to and who I should avoid; where to go for help and advice and where to steer clear of; how to act in the presence of others; and finally, why I should do all of this.
Sometimes what my parents say don't always sound the best to my teenage ears, but I will remember my mother's words in cantonese, which roughly translates to:
"we will never do anything to harm you"
It sounds obvious and silly in english, but those six words in my native tongue encapsulates the complete and utter care they have for me, and my only hope is that someday I will be able to repay that back to them.
Loz
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Four Hundred Metres.
A lanky guy filled in for a star sprinter in the 400m at CGS aths day. This is his story.
I wasn't listed to do the 400m. However, Sam Chan pulled out and offered me the spot, so I took it. It was 400m A's, which meant I was racing pretty much the top runner from each of the 8 houses. 'That's alright', I thought, because it meant I wouldn't have much pressure to perform; I am no athlete so no one expects me to do well anyway. I tell Kai about it.
Kai: 'you doing the A's?'
Me: 'yeah'
Kai: 'you've got to sprint that'
Me: 'ohh...'
To be honest that never occured to me that I would have to be 'sprinting', because I thought I was simply making up the numbers. It really freaked me out because it meant that now I had real pressure to perform.
The lineup did not look good for me:
J.Tsarouhas SUM
S.Tarbet BRI
me
H.Leung ROB
H.Levvey STE
B.Mellody SCH
S.Soh DER
N.Burri MAC
All were very accomplished athletes; it didn't look like I would be able to come close to any, let alone beat any of them.
I lined up at the cones along with everyone else. I watched the year 10s, then 11s, then 12 B's race. The races didn't go for very long, so hopefully my torture won't last very long.
Out we walk onto the red track, to our respective positions. I was in the 3rd lane, which I liked because it meant I was still on the inside, but dont start off like I'm behind everybody else.
I stand behind my cone, then walk forward to have a go crouching at the line.
'TAKE YOUR MARKS!'
up I walk, then slowly crouch down.
The perspective completely changes; the track is a lot closer, and I can see the little bumps on the track.
I see the other racers crouching ahead of me.
I see the white lines next to me quickly curving around the bend.
I feel a small breeze blow, making my fringe wave in the air ahead of me. My breathing is quiet, my heart pounding hard.
'SET!'
I get myself ready, pricking my ears for the bang of the gun, preparing my quads to spring me out of my crouch and down the track. I look down at the white line ahead of me, with my fingers splayed out under me.
*CRACK*
go go go! I start getting up. My left foot springs up quickly, but my right foot loses traction, the adidas ATS cool running shoes scrabbling against the ground. For a few precarious milliseconds, I slip before I thankfully regained control.
The first few steps were nerve wracking. I was so used to crouching near the ground, when I got up I was momentarily disorientated, nearly veering out of my lane.
Off all of us go, around the first bend. Already Jason Tsarouhas has caught up to me on the inside, but I don't care; Hans has already streaked ahead, but I see Sam Tarbet is still behind me in the second lane, and I'm keeping up with Sam Soh. I haven't dropped behind yet!
I regulate my breathing, trying to keep it regular. I used my puffer twice beforehand so the asthma hasn't started kicking in yet, which is a good sign. Its a pretty fast pace, but I've done a few runs before so I'm not feeling too bad; its at the edge but not past my limits, and still I haven't dropped behind everyone else- I only see a few runners ahead of me.
Down the strait we go. I keep pace with Sam Soh, then I push ahead, and he falls away from my periphary vision on the right. Tarbet's catching up, but I'm not too worried about that.
Into the final bend. I can see the crowd looming up ahead, and I'm feeling much more confident about this bend; no more wobbles near the edge of my lane. I keep putting in the effort to set me up for a decent finish.
It looked like I was coming third or fourth.
We start finishing off the bend and start running onto the final straight. I can hear the crowd building, the collective high pitched buzz that comes from the pure excitement they posess. I can see the track straightening out for me. I can see the gates through which I have to pass through. It must be about 80 metres away but it looks like forever.
I was tiring.
Hans and Jason were already streaking ahead. Burri must have been ahead of me already. To my right I see Sam Soh power ahead. To my left I see Sam Tarbet easily outstride me and sprint to the finish.
I got the impression that I was on a runway and all around me aircraft are firing up and taking off, and my engine wouldn't start.
The truth was that my legs were spent. I could hear the crowd, and while it seemed to spur on the others, it could not do the same with me. I willed my legs on, but each step just got harder and harder.
The finishing gates still seemed miles ahead of me.
To my far right, I see a brown shirt. It was Harrison Levvey, running hard. I watched with terror as he steadily caught up, trying to beat me before we finished.
15 metres to go. He was about 1.5 metres behind me. I was losing balance and struggling not to fall face first into the dirt.
10 metres to go. He was about half a metre behind me. Don't fall forward. Keep going
5 metres to go. He was just about level, I was desperate not to lose. Come on!
2 metres left. Balance was no longer required. There was simply no way I could possibly fall and not cross the line.
I gave it everything. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot.
I ducked my head through the thin yellow gate, then immediately lost balance, taking a step with my left foot before falling sideways onto the right side of my hip then doing a roll and landing on my back, arms spread wide.
'oohhhh', I hear the crowd, and the commentator Mr Tuckfield say. Or was it my imagination? I don't know.
I look up, and I see a brilliant blue sky with a few fluffy clouds. The track feels warm and rough, but strangely comforting. The last minute or so had been thrilling, but the race was over.
Two heads block the sky in front of me. One was Mr Hutton's the others was some other student.
Mr Hutton: 'Are you alright?'
Me: 'Yeah. Did I come seventh?'
Mr Hutton: 'you came seventh'
It was all I cared about. I didn't care about how sore I felt, or the grazing on my hip and left hand. All I cared about was getting a result for the race. Hearing those three words from Mr Hutton made all the effort, all the strain and all the pain worth it.
It didn't matter that I didn't come top 4 or whatever. After all, I am no athlete.
Mr Hutton and the student helped me up, and I shook hands with my fellow students. I couldn't help but smile, because even though six other people beat me, I had run my heart out and did myself proud. Looking at the number 7 tag, I didn't feel belittled or inferior. It was reward for the effor I had put in, and I was happy.
Writing about it today, I still got shivers up my spine thinking about that amazing minute.
Thanks to Sam Chan, Alex Morris and Mr Williams for letting me run the event!
Hope you enjoyed reading,
Loz
I wasn't listed to do the 400m. However, Sam Chan pulled out and offered me the spot, so I took it. It was 400m A's, which meant I was racing pretty much the top runner from each of the 8 houses. 'That's alright', I thought, because it meant I wouldn't have much pressure to perform; I am no athlete so no one expects me to do well anyway. I tell Kai about it.
Kai: 'you doing the A's?'
Me: 'yeah'
Kai: 'you've got to sprint that'
Me: 'ohh...'
To be honest that never occured to me that I would have to be 'sprinting', because I thought I was simply making up the numbers. It really freaked me out because it meant that now I had real pressure to perform.
The lineup did not look good for me:
J.Tsarouhas SUM
S.Tarbet BRI
me
H.Leung ROB
H.Levvey STE
B.Mellody SCH
S.Soh DER
N.Burri MAC
All were very accomplished athletes; it didn't look like I would be able to come close to any, let alone beat any of them.
I lined up at the cones along with everyone else. I watched the year 10s, then 11s, then 12 B's race. The races didn't go for very long, so hopefully my torture won't last very long.
Out we walk onto the red track, to our respective positions. I was in the 3rd lane, which I liked because it meant I was still on the inside, but dont start off like I'm behind everybody else.
I stand behind my cone, then walk forward to have a go crouching at the line.
'TAKE YOUR MARKS!'
up I walk, then slowly crouch down.
The perspective completely changes; the track is a lot closer, and I can see the little bumps on the track.
I see the other racers crouching ahead of me.
I see the white lines next to me quickly curving around the bend.
I feel a small breeze blow, making my fringe wave in the air ahead of me. My breathing is quiet, my heart pounding hard.
'SET!'
I get myself ready, pricking my ears for the bang of the gun, preparing my quads to spring me out of my crouch and down the track. I look down at the white line ahead of me, with my fingers splayed out under me.
*CRACK*
go go go! I start getting up. My left foot springs up quickly, but my right foot loses traction, the adidas ATS cool running shoes scrabbling against the ground. For a few precarious milliseconds, I slip before I thankfully regained control.
The first few steps were nerve wracking. I was so used to crouching near the ground, when I got up I was momentarily disorientated, nearly veering out of my lane.
Off all of us go, around the first bend. Already Jason Tsarouhas has caught up to me on the inside, but I don't care; Hans has already streaked ahead, but I see Sam Tarbet is still behind me in the second lane, and I'm keeping up with Sam Soh. I haven't dropped behind yet!
I regulate my breathing, trying to keep it regular. I used my puffer twice beforehand so the asthma hasn't started kicking in yet, which is a good sign. Its a pretty fast pace, but I've done a few runs before so I'm not feeling too bad; its at the edge but not past my limits, and still I haven't dropped behind everyone else- I only see a few runners ahead of me.
Down the strait we go. I keep pace with Sam Soh, then I push ahead, and he falls away from my periphary vision on the right. Tarbet's catching up, but I'm not too worried about that.
Into the final bend. I can see the crowd looming up ahead, and I'm feeling much more confident about this bend; no more wobbles near the edge of my lane. I keep putting in the effort to set me up for a decent finish.
It looked like I was coming third or fourth.
We start finishing off the bend and start running onto the final straight. I can hear the crowd building, the collective high pitched buzz that comes from the pure excitement they posess. I can see the track straightening out for me. I can see the gates through which I have to pass through. It must be about 80 metres away but it looks like forever.
I was tiring.
Hans and Jason were already streaking ahead. Burri must have been ahead of me already. To my right I see Sam Soh power ahead. To my left I see Sam Tarbet easily outstride me and sprint to the finish.
I got the impression that I was on a runway and all around me aircraft are firing up and taking off, and my engine wouldn't start.
The truth was that my legs were spent. I could hear the crowd, and while it seemed to spur on the others, it could not do the same with me. I willed my legs on, but each step just got harder and harder.
The finishing gates still seemed miles ahead of me.
To my far right, I see a brown shirt. It was Harrison Levvey, running hard. I watched with terror as he steadily caught up, trying to beat me before we finished.
15 metres to go. He was about 1.5 metres behind me. I was losing balance and struggling not to fall face first into the dirt.
10 metres to go. He was about half a metre behind me. Don't fall forward. Keep going
5 metres to go. He was just about level, I was desperate not to lose. Come on!
2 metres left. Balance was no longer required. There was simply no way I could possibly fall and not cross the line.
I gave it everything. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot.
I ducked my head through the thin yellow gate, then immediately lost balance, taking a step with my left foot before falling sideways onto the right side of my hip then doing a roll and landing on my back, arms spread wide.
'oohhhh', I hear the crowd, and the commentator Mr Tuckfield say. Or was it my imagination? I don't know.
I look up, and I see a brilliant blue sky with a few fluffy clouds. The track feels warm and rough, but strangely comforting. The last minute or so had been thrilling, but the race was over.
Two heads block the sky in front of me. One was Mr Hutton's the others was some other student.
Mr Hutton: 'Are you alright?'
Me: 'Yeah. Did I come seventh?'
Mr Hutton: 'you came seventh'
It was all I cared about. I didn't care about how sore I felt, or the grazing on my hip and left hand. All I cared about was getting a result for the race. Hearing those three words from Mr Hutton made all the effort, all the strain and all the pain worth it.
It didn't matter that I didn't come top 4 or whatever. After all, I am no athlete.
Mr Hutton and the student helped me up, and I shook hands with my fellow students. I couldn't help but smile, because even though six other people beat me, I had run my heart out and did myself proud. Looking at the number 7 tag, I didn't feel belittled or inferior. It was reward for the effor I had put in, and I was happy.
Writing about it today, I still got shivers up my spine thinking about that amazing minute.
Thanks to Sam Chan, Alex Morris and Mr Williams for letting me run the event!
Hope you enjoyed reading,
Loz
Sunday, August 16, 2009
freebies
Hello!
Melbourne Uni had their open day today, and it seemed to me like getting as many freebies as possible was more important than the course advice. To be honest I wasn't particularly excited in getting most of these, mostly because by and large they don't serve much purpose other than advertise the university once they get home. It got me thinking, why do we love these freebies so much?
Personally, I reckon we like them because of the initial thrill of receiving. I mean seriously, how amazing are most of the freebies once you get home? they'll probably go to some dark corner of your room, or just sit somewhere never to be useful again. However, that instant when you receive the gift, the moment the person says 'here you go', there's the rush that comes from receiving without having to give anything back in return.
Is it as thrilling as getting a present from a friend? probably. Is it as thrilling as buying the same object? probably not.
See the thing is, I don't think it has got much to do with the money you save. Wow, a free sausage! Wow, a free pen! yet how much do these things cost? a few dollars at most. Time and again we pay a few bucks at KFC or maccas or wherever we feel like, and we do not grumble about the prices. Despite what many of us claim, in reality i think many of us aren't too concerned about saving money, certainly not saving the few dollars for lunch, pens and a few soft teddies. Unlike my mother, who I remembered was annoyed that at a petrol station in nz that they rounded up 86c to 90c (they phased out the 5c coins).
I think the excitement of freebies comes from the moment of receiving, and possibly the moment of using (or eating as the case may be). After all, people who don't know you are GIVING you things FOR FREE! For many, it is irresistible, and even waiting in line for 15-20 minutes for some food is no deterrent.
Although many of us will probably not admit it, I believe that receiving feels special because we feel loved. We feel loved and special when someone we know give us a present, regardless of how badly thought out it is. It is the same for freebies, except perhaps it is even more special because the givers don't even know us. But the question is, why are they doing this? Why are they giving us these free items?
Advertising.
It is a powerful yet extremely subtle kind of advertising. These freebies spread around by word of mouth:
'grill'd are giving out vouchers for free chips!'
'did you get the freebies from optus?'
'I got so many freebies from melbourne uni open day!
See, it is impossible to talk about what you received without talking about where you got it from; who is doing the giving. It is a subtle message, one which some of us are not even aware of. And yet it is there.
This is so powerful that in the health industry, some people seriously want to boycott company sponsored medical lectures because of the effect it has on doctors. They feel that because of all the perks these doctors receive, it will make them prescribe drugs when better ones are available because of this subliminal advertising. It is a practice which has been going on for years and years, and its not cheap; dinner for hundreds of guests rarely is.
Why would pharmaceutical companies splash out on feeding hundreds of doctors for free if it wasn't useful and producing results?
It is similar to these open days. Although some shamelessly admit that they are going to open days for the freebies, many others will probably find excuses like 'homework' and 'too far' if such open days did not offer these trinkets.
However, I am by no means condoning getting these freebies; I admit that I waited today with a friend for 20 or so minutes in the rain today just so I could get some lunch, and although I claim that I go to open days for the information, I still cant help a pang of jealousy whenever I see friends with a stack of freebies, no matter how useless most of them are. Personally, I don't really mind the concept of freebies and how they compromise our judgement; after all, it is pretty much impossible to get information without bias these days anyway.
I guess the point of all of my rambling is this: take freebies, accept and embrace them; there is no harm in receiving free gifts! However, bear in mind that there is an underlying purpose behind these baubles, so don't let it brainwash you and overrule your better judgement!
Hope you understood most of that.
Loz
Melbourne Uni had their open day today, and it seemed to me like getting as many freebies as possible was more important than the course advice. To be honest I wasn't particularly excited in getting most of these, mostly because by and large they don't serve much purpose other than advertise the university once they get home. It got me thinking, why do we love these freebies so much?
Personally, I reckon we like them because of the initial thrill of receiving. I mean seriously, how amazing are most of the freebies once you get home? they'll probably go to some dark corner of your room, or just sit somewhere never to be useful again. However, that instant when you receive the gift, the moment the person says 'here you go', there's the rush that comes from receiving without having to give anything back in return.
Is it as thrilling as getting a present from a friend? probably. Is it as thrilling as buying the same object? probably not.
See the thing is, I don't think it has got much to do with the money you save. Wow, a free sausage! Wow, a free pen! yet how much do these things cost? a few dollars at most. Time and again we pay a few bucks at KFC or maccas or wherever we feel like, and we do not grumble about the prices. Despite what many of us claim, in reality i think many of us aren't too concerned about saving money, certainly not saving the few dollars for lunch, pens and a few soft teddies. Unlike my mother, who I remembered was annoyed that at a petrol station in nz that they rounded up 86c to 90c (they phased out the 5c coins).
I think the excitement of freebies comes from the moment of receiving, and possibly the moment of using (or eating as the case may be). After all, people who don't know you are GIVING you things FOR FREE! For many, it is irresistible, and even waiting in line for 15-20 minutes for some food is no deterrent.
Although many of us will probably not admit it, I believe that receiving feels special because we feel loved. We feel loved and special when someone we know give us a present, regardless of how badly thought out it is. It is the same for freebies, except perhaps it is even more special because the givers don't even know us. But the question is, why are they doing this? Why are they giving us these free items?
Advertising.
It is a powerful yet extremely subtle kind of advertising. These freebies spread around by word of mouth:
'grill'd are giving out vouchers for free chips!'
'did you get the freebies from optus?'
'I got so many freebies from melbourne uni open day!
See, it is impossible to talk about what you received without talking about where you got it from; who is doing the giving. It is a subtle message, one which some of us are not even aware of. And yet it is there.
This is so powerful that in the health industry, some people seriously want to boycott company sponsored medical lectures because of the effect it has on doctors. They feel that because of all the perks these doctors receive, it will make them prescribe drugs when better ones are available because of this subliminal advertising. It is a practice which has been going on for years and years, and its not cheap; dinner for hundreds of guests rarely is.
Why would pharmaceutical companies splash out on feeding hundreds of doctors for free if it wasn't useful and producing results?
It is similar to these open days. Although some shamelessly admit that they are going to open days for the freebies, many others will probably find excuses like 'homework' and 'too far' if such open days did not offer these trinkets.
However, I am by no means condoning getting these freebies; I admit that I waited today with a friend for 20 or so minutes in the rain today just so I could get some lunch, and although I claim that I go to open days for the information, I still cant help a pang of jealousy whenever I see friends with a stack of freebies, no matter how useless most of them are. Personally, I don't really mind the concept of freebies and how they compromise our judgement; after all, it is pretty much impossible to get information without bias these days anyway.
I guess the point of all of my rambling is this: take freebies, accept and embrace them; there is no harm in receiving free gifts! However, bear in mind that there is an underlying purpose behind these baubles, so don't let it brainwash you and overrule your better judgement!
Hope you understood most of that.
Loz
Saturday, August 15, 2009
motivation
Hey everyone!
Just watched my beloved cats get over the line at Sydney today so not exactly in the worst mood at the moment, but overall it wasn't the most flash day for me. Today I just couldn't really muster up much motivation to do any kind of homework really, which seriously worries me. It was stark contrast to yesterday, where in the double private study I just stuck my head down and wrote for the entire double to the point where when the bell went I wanted to stay and finish it off. It got me wondering, what prompts a desire to study and what doesnt?
Today, I had my iPod, my laptop and just about every other kind of distraction I could possibly have. Yesterday in private study, I didn't have any of those; pretty much all I had was pen and paper. It seems easy to draw the conclusion that I was distracted by other things, but I don't really think that this is the case. I opened up facebook, opened up random games, but none of that really appealed to me; it was all pretty boring stuff. song's werent exactly distracting either; they were just there, and I often get my best work done with them. So what is it?
I remember a few days ago, a friend of mine was talking about his lack of motivation, despite it being already near the end of year 12. He seemed pretty exasperated, and to be honest I couldn't really believe it either- WE ONLY HAVE ANOTHER 10 WEEKS OR SO OF SCHOOL, and you cannot concentrate?!
and yet here I was in exactly the same position.
I think that perhaps I am a person who works best with rigid structures in place; maybe that's why I prefer physics, specialist maths, and chemistry over english. With the first 3 subjects, you just see the problem, apply the formulas and just plug in the numbers and definitions.
Everything is just clear cut and a general procedure is followed.
However, I would always have a major fear of starting english essays; unlike maths and science problems, thought about what is the best way to go about things is required, and it is this lack of a path which deters me. Despite this, time and time again I plan english essays, and with such a plan in place I just write!
I write and write and pretty much don't stop until I have finished my essay at breakneck pace, after which I usually just try to fix up my messy handwriting. At such times, essay writing is just as simple and straightforward as maths at its best can be.
It made me realise that planning really is the best way to work efficiently, whether it is planning for a piece or planning for a weekend. Last week, I had one of my best weekends: I went out with friends on friday night, lost a whole afternoon on saturday because of shopping with my family, and yet I still got an absollute tonne of homework done.
Why? because I laid out what I had to do. Here's what I wrote in my diary:
1. Spec task
2. Chem worksheet
3. English questions
4. Chem questions
5. Physics assignment
6. Uni maths practice paper
True, I only finished the first four and started the fifth, but this wasn't a list of what I had to get done over the weekend; it was just what I could do. I had sunday pretty much all to myself, and it was just incredible how I just kept working and working, at the very desk which I could not work at today.
For me, it was a revealing moment; it proved to myself that I can actually focus on tasks for extended periods when
it is required.
Yes, I have wasted a whole day today, but I still have all of tomorrow to hopefully salvage what was a promising weekend. As for motivation for these crucial few months ahead, I keep thinking about nickelback- sometimes their lyrics don't make much sense, but I think some sections of 'If today was your last day' are particularly apt for us year 12'ers:
'every second counts 'cos there's no second try,
so live like you're never living twice'
Thanks for reading,
Loz
Just watched my beloved cats get over the line at Sydney today so not exactly in the worst mood at the moment, but overall it wasn't the most flash day for me. Today I just couldn't really muster up much motivation to do any kind of homework really, which seriously worries me. It was stark contrast to yesterday, where in the double private study I just stuck my head down and wrote for the entire double to the point where when the bell went I wanted to stay and finish it off. It got me wondering, what prompts a desire to study and what doesnt?
Today, I had my iPod, my laptop and just about every other kind of distraction I could possibly have. Yesterday in private study, I didn't have any of those; pretty much all I had was pen and paper. It seems easy to draw the conclusion that I was distracted by other things, but I don't really think that this is the case. I opened up facebook, opened up random games, but none of that really appealed to me; it was all pretty boring stuff. song's werent exactly distracting either; they were just there, and I often get my best work done with them. So what is it?
I remember a few days ago, a friend of mine was talking about his lack of motivation, despite it being already near the end of year 12. He seemed pretty exasperated, and to be honest I couldn't really believe it either- WE ONLY HAVE ANOTHER 10 WEEKS OR SO OF SCHOOL, and you cannot concentrate?!
and yet here I was in exactly the same position.
I think that perhaps I am a person who works best with rigid structures in place; maybe that's why I prefer physics, specialist maths, and chemistry over english. With the first 3 subjects, you just see the problem, apply the formulas and just plug in the numbers and definitions.
Everything is just clear cut and a general procedure is followed.
However, I would always have a major fear of starting english essays; unlike maths and science problems, thought about what is the best way to go about things is required, and it is this lack of a path which deters me. Despite this, time and time again I plan english essays, and with such a plan in place I just write!
I write and write and pretty much don't stop until I have finished my essay at breakneck pace, after which I usually just try to fix up my messy handwriting. At such times, essay writing is just as simple and straightforward as maths at its best can be.
It made me realise that planning really is the best way to work efficiently, whether it is planning for a piece or planning for a weekend. Last week, I had one of my best weekends: I went out with friends on friday night, lost a whole afternoon on saturday because of shopping with my family, and yet I still got an absollute tonne of homework done.
Why? because I laid out what I had to do. Here's what I wrote in my diary:
1. Spec task
2. Chem worksheet
3. English questions
4. Chem questions
5. Physics assignment
6. Uni maths practice paper
True, I only finished the first four and started the fifth, but this wasn't a list of what I had to get done over the weekend; it was just what I could do. I had sunday pretty much all to myself, and it was just incredible how I just kept working and working, at the very desk which I could not work at today.
For me, it was a revealing moment; it proved to myself that I can actually focus on tasks for extended periods when
it is required.
Yes, I have wasted a whole day today, but I still have all of tomorrow to hopefully salvage what was a promising weekend. As for motivation for these crucial few months ahead, I keep thinking about nickelback- sometimes their lyrics don't make much sense, but I think some sections of 'If today was your last day' are particularly apt for us year 12'ers:
'every second counts 'cos there's no second try,
so live like you're never living twice'
Thanks for reading,
Loz
Friday, August 14, 2009
first post
Hey everyone!
I've read some blogs recently and I must admit I was very impressed with the sophistication of some of them. It prompted me to think about blogging, and I decided I might as well give it a go; after all most people who blog seem to be pretty normal and cool people to be around so it shouldn't be another one of those things which will 'make me fail vce'! hopefully...
I must admit I was tentative about starting this- despite what some of you might think I am a pretty self concious guy who can get uncomfortable in the public eye, as those at house music can attest! I figured that even if this does turn out to be a bad blog at least I can get a bit of english practice.
If you're wondering why I decided to name my blog 'loz man', don't ask- I'm not entirely sure its so great either! I've looked at the names of some people's blogs; some people combine complex words (Dean), others decide to show off their french skills (Jon) while many decide to simply use nicknames (Edi). Admittedly I spent a long time trying to think up something sophisticated and classy for myself but couldn't come up with much, but the whole time I couldn't get the images of Dean and Edi saying (yelling? screaming?) 'lozzzzmmmannn', so I figured it will have to do for now.
That's it from me!
Lawrence
I've read some blogs recently and I must admit I was very impressed with the sophistication of some of them. It prompted me to think about blogging, and I decided I might as well give it a go; after all most people who blog seem to be pretty normal and cool people to be around so it shouldn't be another one of those things which will 'make me fail vce'! hopefully...
I must admit I was tentative about starting this- despite what some of you might think I am a pretty self concious guy who can get uncomfortable in the public eye, as those at house music can attest! I figured that even if this does turn out to be a bad blog at least I can get a bit of english practice.
If you're wondering why I decided to name my blog 'loz man', don't ask- I'm not entirely sure its so great either! I've looked at the names of some people's blogs; some people combine complex words (Dean), others decide to show off their french skills (Jon) while many decide to simply use nicknames (Edi). Admittedly I spent a long time trying to think up something sophisticated and classy for myself but couldn't come up with much, but the whole time I couldn't get the images of Dean and Edi saying (yelling? screaming?) 'lozzzzmmmannn', so I figured it will have to do for now.
That's it from me!
Lawrence
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