Daily Bag limit: 8 ducks with the following conditions

•A maximum of one Australasian Shoveler per day
•No more than five ducks per day from declared game species, balance of bag limit must be wood ducks
•Wood ducks are only restricted by the bag limit of 8 ducks per day (i.e. a bag of 8 wood ducks is allowed).


The SSAA (Vic) has worked consistently to distribute accurate scientific data about duck hunting in Australia. The truth about duck hunting is that it is a legitimate and sustainable activity. The government has acknowledged this fact and to its credit ignored the emotional and corrupt arguments of the anti duck hunting advocates. The SSAA (Vic) thanks the Brumby Government for its well informed and balanced approach to this issue.

Don't worry guys, the SSAA have got it all under control.

Every year, four state governments declare 'open season' for recreational duck hunting, and unfortunately, the state I call home is one of them. During these seasons, thousands of ducks are shot down over the wetlands in the name of 'fun'. Of 'recreation'. In fact, the SSAA endorse this activity by depciting a boy no older than twelve holding a gun, smiling amiably at the camera.

Some ducks will be killed as the bullet pierces their tiny bodies. Others will become wounded or crippled and suffer in prolonged pain. This is despicable, and even those not of 'emotional and corrupt' orientation would surely agree.

Duck hunting season begins this Saturday.

Visit rspca.org.au for more information.

If you need some love, get a hooker.

I saw this title quoted on weardrobe.com today, and it just struck me as being rather poetic. Please don't be rolling your eyes at me. But you know, I've noticed that I get lonely really easily, which seems almost to be contradictory, considering how withdrawn I generally am even around close friends. Today is one such day, and I have no clue why. Perhaps it only just struck me how lifeless my life actually is, and in one huge chunk my mood slid downwards.
I look at my mother; I look at my grandmother, and they've always been strong feminist role models in my life. They're both incredibly self reliable and independent, but from them I've learnt, in a way, that to need other people is a flaw, and I don't know, is this a realistic interpretation of life? I mean, humans are social creatures. We need company. Science tells us so.
I've decided that there are two types of people, both of which can manifest within anyone at any time, and they are; Macbeths and Hamlets. I probably could have chosen a better character to represent the Macbeth side of us, but basically there are those who act and regret, and those who contemplate and regret. I'm not sure what this has to do with anything; I was just walking home yesterday and I thought of it. Because I was thinking about relationships, mainly my lack of experience, but honestly, who knows what they're doing anyway, regardless of experience? I think a relationship needs both a Macbeth and a Hamlet.
If I had to choose, I'd be Macbeth, but I know I'm a Hamlet, which sucks, but it kind of fits...the whole emo adolescent hiding behind a mask thing.
Today I just feel bleugh and I have fantastic friends but I can't help worrying because things seem to be changing. My mind is horrible and I have to keep asking myself "Why so bitchy for?", because it's really unlike me, or so I like to think.
I have this theory that if I immerse myself in creativity these feelings will disappear, but I'm lacking inspiration or even motivation to begin...erm immersing myself.
Grey day.

Dedicated To All You Nuts Out There.

Peanut butter will always reign supreme.

O+

I was going to try and write something deeply profound, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

For one thing, I’m completely and utterly sick of how my ‘l’ key doesn’t seem to want to cooperate, and also trying to find deeper meaning in things and then having to express that in a level of language complexity that is, most likely, beyond my capabilities gets old quickly. Sorry to those who love Lit.

For another thing, even if I did manage to spiel out something profound in nature, I don’t think I, myself, would even want to read a pretentious philosophical web anyway.

I hope you don’t mind though; I felt it necessary to discuss Lent, a concept of the Catholic Church. Today, I hope the Pope invited all his Vatican City friends over to the Sistine Chapel to both revel in the beautiful aesthetics of the place as well as share a meal of pancakes, and pancakes alone. Maybe with maple syrup too, or the Italian version anyway. Do they have crepes in Italy? Hm. Pancakes. Yes.

So the story goes, once upon a time, Jesus ventured out into the desert for 40 days and ate nothing but [insert desert plant here]- maybe cacti of some variety. He essentially fasted for those 40 days, and so, because Jesus is awesome and all those that still adhere to the feudalistic system of the Catholic Church strive to be like him in every way (in theory, at least), to this day are also *encouraged* to, at the very least, give up something of significance to them. It’s generally to do with diet, like children will give up lollies or chocolate, and adults might give up meat or alcohol, but it can also be something like committing to spending more time with your family, or giving up swearing etc. etc. All terribly sappy, but it’s a nice idea.

Shrove Tuesday is celebrated because back in the days after Jesus, people used to use up all their milk and flour in order to prepare for the almost-fasting period. Maybe this is how pancakes came to be, and so I think my saying Jesus is awesome up there^ somewhere is totally justified, because pancakes are just delicious.

Anyway, even though I refuse to believe in the Catholic version of God, I don’t think Lent is an altogether irrelevant concept. It’s a time for reflection, for self improvement, and an introduction (however temporary) of discipline- which in my eyes leads to a sense of self control- into our lives, which I think is wonderful. That is, of course, not to say that this can’t and shouldn’t happen at any other time of the year, but I like how giving up something important to us in order to become richer as people is openly and loudly endorsed through Lent.

I also gave blood today! I bet you didn’t know that, unless Lulu told you. Apparently my vein was “too eager” to donate and so when they stuck the needle in blood spurted everywhere. I looked over my shoulder as I was leaving, after having given 470ml of blood, to see a man with a bucket of antisepticy bubbly water scrubbing at the chair I had just sat in. I don’t have HIV, though, so hopefully there’s nothing to worry about!

A horse walks into a bar. The bar man says, "Why the long face?"

So, anger's a weird emotion. I'd like to say it drives people to do insane things, but then when you look at most of the horrible things in the world, they're generally the result of the pursuit of lust. Maybe. I'm not sure. I'm also not sure what anger even is, mainly because most of my life has been rather devoid of said emotion; I've always been able to brush off supposedly mean jabs in my direction (ahem, Beaconsfield College guy) and get over even the slightest tiff with a quick perspective check. Because that's how I just work- anger in itself has always seemed a completely counter productive emotion, but then I guess most emotions are? Selalu messy. I'm so confused. I can always talk myself round; always persuade myself that there's a deeper, more pressing issue behind anything that could possibly push another person to lash out in some (to use the word yet again- Where's a thesaurus when you need one?) anger inducing way, and I don't get offended in the way I know some people do.
I was hanging out with this awesome person today, and he told me, as many people have, that he couldn't imagine me ever being angry. Ever? You people clearly don't think I'm capable of being human. But generally, I guess the only person I ever get mad at is myself; for not being hard working enough, for not having enough self discipline, for not knowing how to act most of the time, for being perpetually confused, for not caring enough to do my hair nicely, for not being grateful enough, for not being a great friend, for being silent, for just hoping that blundering through life will somehow lead me to wherever I'll be happy, and who knows where and when that'll be? It's always my fault. Always. Always?
Q: But just because I'm able to push away any feelings of hurt or anger, does that mean I have to? Why am I not allowed to wallow in the depths of my inner emo psyche, utterly convinced that I am of no worth as a person?
A:Because I don't matter at all. And it's my duty not to matter; to be sweet, nice, inoffensive and generally at peace because that's how my father's daughter was raised; that's the image I've projected of myself to the world and so why change?
I don't want to be angry.
But I am.
Let me have time, and I will get over it. Because it's my fault.

PENIS

Life as we know it is not a peach,
It is neither an apple, nor a cup of tea.
Words rush by as birds fly too fast for mere humans;
clocks strangle the obese from the thin
and we all simply smile,
ignorantly
content. Yelling will not liberate you here.
There is a time for peace and a time for war but hush,
Father is unhearing our sorrows. Blood flows freely so
strive not for golden stars-
hoard your coins now for ugly curtains once you've outgrown Peter and
let him instead flicker by the light of the lamp.
Let the darkness creep in
embrace it nakedly
dance in it
pain.
As ducks potter tenderly around our feet we muse
What are their lives worth?
But if everything and nothing and something mingled and the world spun
Perhaps then we'd be dazed; let us awake.
Let us awake.

So there's this guy. He's pretty amazing and I'm so confused and worried because I think I like him too much.
Ta-da! Remaja gadis crap over with! Maybe. Maybe not. I'm also confused about why I'm so happy. Why?
Why, Lord, why? Don't scare me like this. That saying about how smiling scares other people, I think it's somewhat relevant here. Except the only time smiling scares me is when it's on my own face. It does make for efficient time use though. I don't know. Should I be worried?
Hmm. I made a vegan cake today. It's a marble cake and it's 6 different vibrant colours. It looks oh so pretty on my kitchen bench top. AND I HAS FLOWERS IN MY ROOM NOW THANKS TO THE LOVELY NICK! Lilies! They're the flower of death, apparently, but they're so nice! And as some people argue, the theme of death is quite ah suitable in my room. Because I'm emo like that.
I'm going to learn to play guitar. And I'm going to get two bins to put in my room and decorate them according to their use- one for recycling and one for just plain old rubbish. And then I'm going to put up one giant Indonesian word on my ceiling which will say SEMANGAT which means, literally, spirit, and every time I see it I'll be reminded of Indonesia and Indonesian people and how I really need to get 98.4 to be happy at the end of this year.
TO CERTAIN PEOPLE. I want to tell you to be happy, but I know it's not that easy and I'm just going to sound like a hypocrite because I hate when people say that to me when I'm down. But seriously.

P.S. I'm too much of a coward to take credit for the title, so just blame it on Jeremy. And sorry for using your actual name here, Jeremy.

:D