As your notes slides into the machine, you have been credited with that amount.
But why do we do it?
For some, it’s a method to pass the time. For others, they think somehow their skill will cheat the system and win. We press the buttons mindlessly, staring absently at the screen, secretly hoping that our money has been doubled.
Our mind is occupied by other thoughts, so when our money doesn’t double, we don’t always react in the same way. It was Einstein who defined insanity is repeating the same action and expecting different results, wasn’t it? Yet some will take their loss as a sign and leave the gambling area. Others will continue to play, one note after the after the other hoping to recoup their losses.
Sometimes it’s best to leave it, other times there is better luck. You end up spending all of your money, so there is nothing left to even nurse a glass of scotch. Poker machines are notoriously good at stealing our time and money - but it can be a social activity, a pastime you enjoy alongside friends and family.
But not always, gambling can make you a very lonely person - it can actually segregate you from your friends, separate you from the rest of your life and blur the lines between machine and reality.
(Source: niknak79, via tysonstime)
forever the kid on the right.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
(Source: excruci4ting, via tysonstime)
So here we are. Here I am publishing my thoughts online rather than communicating them in person to whoever will listen. I am, conforming.
These days, face-to-face communication is in its dying day as we tap away endlessly at our iPhones, whining about how $450 worth of credit isn’t enough for the month. Heaven forbid if we go over our credit cap on our plan! Shock horror, we might have to actually look people in the eye and speak to them. We have conformed to the values of the globally dynamic Western world that technology dictates the way that we run our lives.
The previous is ironic as I type this on a Macbook Pro, a laptop which pretty much every Communication student has, while listening to music on my iPhone and clicking with Apple’s Magic Mouse. To add to such irony, I am chatting to people on Facebook in another tab.
In reference to conformism, anyone who doesn’t embrace technology is cast away faster than the original iPod was upon its upgrade. Those who are outspoken are perceived to be unusual, those with opinions are always the ones that get shot down, the person with ideas is ignored, unless they post it online. That’s why I’m conforming, in the hope that people will read what I post here. In the hope that my message will get across.
For people to leave the online world and put themselves out there, get to know people, talk, laugh, have a drink, get to know each together! Crawl out of the safe haven you’ve buried yourself into and just live! Be happy.
It’s almost laughable that our camping trip was referred to as “The Summer Edition” because the sun barely made an appearance.The week long visit into the second world, also known as the Watagans, was fleeting and eventful.
There was no need to measure time, only in units of “Beer O’Clock”. It was actually quite therapeutic to turn off all of my electronic devices. Surprisingly, in a whole week, I only missed out on three text messages and about 11 emails. Here I was thinking I was important! It just goes to show that it’s not a big deal to be without technology for a week!
So instead of tweeting, texting and status updates, we went for a three hour bush walk, following the river along the trail as far as we could manage until we grew tired. We only had to stop because one of the group stupidly injured themselves, no names will be mentioned here.
The one time we did leave the Watagans was a matter of life and death: we had no foam cups. It was impossible to consume coffee without them, and I hadn’t had a cup in three days. The group was starting to notice, I was becoming easily irritated and I tired quickly. So our trip back to the first world involved restocking in supplies and sanity. Going to McDonalds was much appreciated, as was the McCafe.
We reverted to an arguably childlike state, playing games of our past like Bullrush and 44 Home. I let them have 44 Home, but back in my day we made it interesting by calling it 24 Home. Much less time to hide, more fun. The group played these games until we were bruised and sore.
This would be followed up by the defining question of the trip: “Is it 5 o’clock yet?”. Most of the time the answer was no, but when it was yes, we could get really rowdy! Some of us were victim to dancing crazily around a blazing bonfire, some showed restraint. Some had been drinking, some hadn’t. Rain, hail or shine, we still managed to have a good time!
But returning from such a camping trip really makes you appreciate the advantages of the first world. The inaugural outing to a shopping centre is like a rite of passage, leading to a membership to the consumer club. Hey, don’t judge me, I’m stimulating the economy through the retail sector. At this time of year, so is everyone else!
Would I do it again? Maybe. Next time, we need to give ourselves much more to do!
“I sometimes think we expect too much of Christmas Day. We try to crowd into it the long arrears of kindliness and humanity of the whole year. As for me, I like to take my Christmas a little at a time, all through the year. And thus I drift along into the holidays—let them overtake me unexpectedly—waking up some fine morning and suddenly saying to myself: ‘Why, this is Christmas Day!’” — David Grayson
As the final days of university draw to a close, only the devout students attend the last few lectures and tutorials. We sit here eagerly, clearly being productive - taking notes, asking questions, finishing work on our assignments as good students do.
But we are alone in the university, our friends weren’t stupid enough to join us on the 2 hour train trip and travelling time. They sleep in until lunch time, forgetting what they have to do, missing due dates or just scraping by. Our friends are blissfully unaware of the stress and torture we are putting ourselves through.
The library will be quiet, desolate, depressing. Banks of computer will be free, but we no longer need to use them. There are over a million books on the shelves, but there is no time to read them as the semester slowly ends.
I sit with one friend who for some reason is still here, yet has nothing to do apart from writing angry emails to his lecturers and tutors. How productive, I assume, what a necessary task to complete! The time spent is so valuable to him, but still he continues to aimlessly type into an oblivion in a hope that he will recover more works.
When I said end of days, I meant no religious connotation at all. Merely it was a reflection of the days or weeks remaining of the semester. So Christians fear not!
There’s nothing like a home cooked meal, made by one’s mother.
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I know this isn’t something everyone would randomly start thinking about but let’s put it this way: I had a lot of spare time of the semester break.
Spending my Sunday afternoons playing bingo with my grandmother has taught me that older people can be very violent when it comes to bingo. Seriously, don’t laugh.
Dabbers are pressed hardly onto the bingo, muttering of voices can be heard the closer they get to winning the prize at the end. But when the numbers don’t match up, the reactions are almost in slow motion.
Heads will roll and spit will fly if they don’t win, year after year and dollar after dollar they say. Yes of course, life must be difficult for you, you reply. Keep the peace and don’t get the rage, and maybe go somewhere else on Sunday… Church anyone?