I’ve always been sarcastic. It almost happens involuntarily. Most of the time, its actually fairly clever (even if I say so myself). The problem is, most people my age or younger either don’t even know what Im saying, or that it is, in fact, sarcasm at all.

Truth is, I’ve always gotten along better with adults. I’ve grown up around them a lot more than other kids probably did. Adults realise I use sarcasm; that’s what I love about it. I don’t have to censor or adapt myself for other people to understand what I’m saying.

Not that I’m saying there aren’t younger people that have a similar sense of humour, or the mental capacity.

I have a friend that we just bounce off each other; sarcastic comment after another. But he’s about the only one my age I really have that equal level of sarcasm with.

What I’m trying to say is people are different. I mean, sense of humour or attitude or whatever is a small aspect, but people often have to edit themselves depending on environment. It’s an inevitable necessity for people to co-exist. While everyone would like to believe they are themselves all the time or at least almost all the time, the truth of the matter is that we all have to conform just a little bit.

Anyway, conformity sucks. It makes girls look, sound, smell and think the same. It makes boys clones, and in extreme cases, it can be hugely detrimental to society (e.g. Nazis, cults, knee high socks).

But minor conformity is, and always will be, needed. Because if nobody understands each other, society fails. So I guess what I’m trying to say is, me minimising the level of sarcasm I naturally produce is, in fact, me protecting and sustaining society’s success.

Yes, it’s true. I am the world’s saviour.

Okay, so Sex and the City would have to be a favourite show of mine; and seriously, why would I not want to be Carrie Bradshaw? She’s a writer (my dream), has designer clothes, but more importantly, awe-inspiring shoes (I have an addiction to them, I just don’t have the funds), and she is the object of many a sexy man’s affection.

Being realistic, what budding-writer-girl would turn down the opportunity to have Carrie’s life?

My point is, that’s exactly what this life is; a dream. I mean, exactly how many women would be able to afford that amount of clothing, shoes and nights out on the town, get a job that fantastic and flexible, and have that great a love life?

Very damn few, I tell you.

So, hesitantly acknowledging the fact that I will never be in the position of Carrie Bradshaw, I accept that I will probably be a reporter at some newspaper/channel that has nowhere near that amount of prestige (damn you, New York Times), settle for shoes from Myer, and maybe, if I’m lucky, find some guy that will keep me occupied. Not that I really care about that aspect of life. Marriage; pfft.

Whatever. Point is, Everyone has to settle. Settle for a crappy apartment an hour from work; settle for a blue jumper when you wanted a purple one; settle for a life of mediocrity when you wish for extraordinary.

We settle. And those of you who don’t have to, well, we hate you.

So, we had to to this activity thing, where you kut open some cartoon person’s knee, and do a reconstruction/replacement thing. Yeah.

It was actually okay, except I kept thinking, “when will I ever kneed” (pardon the pun) “to cut open someone’s knee and fix it?” I mean, I won’t be walking along, see someone without a knee, and kneed (sorry, I can’t help it) to say “Yes, I know how to fix you!”

Because, it is definitely certain that I will never be a surgeon, or even a GP.

Regardless of all that, it was pretty interesting. The idea of actually doing a basic version of the procedure is pretty clever. I’ve always been someone who reads material in order to learn, but the act of doing something is fairly fun. Reading about things, or just seeing or hearing about things can’t really stand up to real, practical lessons. And while it’s nowhere near as easy in reality as it is in this simulation, it gives you a little bit of an idea as to what is involved.

The one thing that sort of grossed me out, however, is that they let you look at photos of actual procedures. And I wouldn’t call myself ridiculously squeamish, but I would like to recommend you to either reconsider looking at them, or prepare yourself just a little before opening the pictures.

Hello.Now, if you have very little logic and/or eyesight, you wouldn’t have figured out by my blog’s title that I have to do this. It is a compulsary part of my Information and Technology course.

I have to put my work on here, but hopefully this blog of mine won’t be too pathetic. I’m sure I’ll manage to make it half decent.
Wish me luck.

Now, another compulsary activity was the Ayiti game; www.unicef.org/voy/explore/rights/explore_3142.html
Basically, you have three kids and two adults you have to look after and all they really have to do is keep alive.

They wouldn’t.

Trust me, I tried. I attempted to look after them health wise, they died of poverty. I worked them to within an inch of their life; that inch gave way. I tried to balance everything; they became both broke and sick.

So I say to UNICEF, thanks.

I now know I should never have children. Because if I can’t look after five little fake internet things, there is very little chance I won’t kill any offspring I might have otherwise had.