Amateur does not mean inferior

It means doing things for love by Anne Atkins

(BBC Thought for the Day, 15 December 2009)

and what can be more purposeful and rewarding than that?

Land of Dreams

Grand pa – why do we sleep?

We sleep so we can dream.

What are dreams?

Dreams are what you paint when you are asleep.

Paint? How?

When you sleep, your mind enters into a special room.

In this room are buckets of memories. Each memory is a colour.

When you sleep; your mind dips into these buckets.

And as the mind mixes one bucket with another, a feeling is born.

Your dreams are the images of these feelings.

Can I control my dreams?

I’m sure you can, but why would you want to? Every day you are awake, your mind is controlling something in your life.

That is why everyone sleeps. It is so they can let your mind.

Is it like letting a balloon go?

Yes it is. When you sleep, your mind can float anywhere.

Can it float into space?

It can do more than float into space, it can take you to a planet where the plants speak to you and the animals sing.

Can I eat all the chocolate I want?

You can eat all the chocolate you want and your dentist will never be worried.

Can I be a pirate?

In your dreams, you can be a pirate that dances with a ship that is a stage and a crew that is your band.

I wonder what my mind will dream of tonight?

Sleep and find out.

Settling in

no reward can be greater than feeling "involved" with each moment...

My Niece at 8 months

For the next few weeks, you will be all that my camera sees

Winter is a peculiar season.

Lots to love and hate.

Hate the:

- Gale force winds that strips your body of all its warmth.

- Rain that leaves you soaking wet in a bus with a strange smell of dampness invading your nostrils.

- Darkness in the morning, darkness in the evening. Darkness all around.

- Heavy clothing that feels more like lead rather than a warm comforting blanket of security.

Love the:

- The sound of rain tapping on the window pain

- Sofa sessions with a hot chocolate, a nice woollen sweater/cardi whilst watching the trees sway outside the window.

- Time out to read because the weather is too violent to venture out.

- Snuggling up with your loved one, a movie, and yummy munchies to snack on

- A Sunday Roast that fills the rooms with both warmth and fragrance…mmmm

And like the other three seasons, Winter has its own ace card up its sleeve – SNOW.

Last years winter was delightful! Beautiful soft blankets of snow which blanketed the countryside of Oxfordshire and made last years winter shine above all other seasons.

Let’s hope this winter’s gale force winds and heavy rain will turn into tender snow fall and beautiful fields of perfect untouched snowfields.

Bring on the snowman, bring out the snow sleigh, Please mother nature, put on your snow dress!

Give me my daily bread.

If only I was gracious enough to know when to stop. I recall the magic words in Oliver Twist, “please Sir, may I have some more?”

Is it wrong of us to want more than our daily bread? I was brought up in a capitalist setting. My family fled communist Vietnam so that I may “rise” in the echelon of western democracy. Yet my family have always taught me to be giving and humble.

How does one give when one is educated to believe achieving as much as one possibly can is what we should be pursuing?

Unsurprisingly, I find myself feeling torn by my desires.

Do I ask for more or should I simply be grateful for my daily bread?

Vishvapani

BBC Thought for the Day Tuesday 17th November

Sometimes impulse should win

Few weeks back, Babes and I had ventured to Birmingham Book Festival. I had subscribed to a writing workshop and following the Bath Children’s literature Festival, I was excited to be infused with knowledge.

Babes and I went window shopping with our Friend Science M to past the time. Along that journey, I found myself charmed by a blazer in a high street retail store.

I dismissed my desire to purchase the item – do I need it? No.

But then, luxury items are never necessities, they’re sustenance. It fills us with a sense of pleasure and strangely, with pleasure comes guilt.

I must say, a ‘Zoolander’ moment appeared in my mind – yes, I felt good when I wore it. And yes, I wanted it.

All the more reason not to buy it.

Luckily, Science M received a call from his bro - Super R – and we made our escape to the Bullring to enjoy lunch.

After our fast food hit, my friends and Babes accompanied me to South Birmingham College. I left them for my workshop and for those short few hours, I forgot all about the grey woollen blazer.

Not long after leaving the workshop I found myself debating over a choice: flamboyant capitalism or thrifty communism. Pushing capitalism aside, i focused on spending the last few hours enjoying the company of friends.

As Babes and I left Birmingham, Science M and his Bro, Super R I felt none the wiser from my act of being thrifty.

As the title suggest, it didn’t take long for me to capitulate to my desires.

Do I feel bad? No – because during the time that I was without, I came to the realisation that it is what I want and my impulse/instincts were spot on. In the end, if you really want it - you're going to buy it.

There’s nothing wrong with earning what you want.

‘UP’ in Didcot

Our half-day adventure in Didcot was surprisingly pleasant.

In fact, the day even reminded me of the time when I had considered living in Didcot. However, I’m glad it was only a consideration.

One cannot argue against the economics that dictate the conditions we live under. Moving from the North back to the South of England gave us a terrible fright when I saw rental prices. Didcot was a serious contender.

“Babes, I think living in Oxford is beyond our means – how about Didcot? It has quick access to London and is only one stop by train to Oxford”.

“Great! Mark that as another town to check out”.

As we approached Didcot, the thought of living in a town over shadowed by a bellowing power station killed all preconceptions we held whilst in the North. We didn’t even drive into Didcot.

Sitting in Cibo restaurant with Babes and her colleagues was a lovely experience. I have to admit, it was very tasty food for a franchise.

It also happens to be a lunch organised to promote breast cancer awareness - the pink theme was reflective of everyone’s mood.

Babes was also given a half day off from work for all the long hours she has given in the lab. I’m so very grateful that she works for a company that truly respects and appreciates the time she devotes to her work.

To be honest, we struggled to envisage how we would spend those precious hours in Didcot. Even though we had already bought tickets to Pixar’s “Up” we still had just over an hour to kill and with so little to see in Didcot and lunch ending sooner than expected – the hour looked daunting.

But none-the-less we found our way into a coffee/bistro and talked the time away.

“Up” was what made Didcot memorable. I haven’t felt so moved in a film for a long time. The old man was someone to admire. His life was fulfilled by the love he shared with his wife. Those short scenes - a collection of memories really – were evocative and so well paced that as a viewer I felt a true connection. The relationship encapsulated my definition of what true love really meant. So much was told with such precise detail. Not a single piece of dialogue was needed.

As for watching it with Babes, I couldn’t help but wish we will have the same adventures.

To me, Up was a fantastically told narrative. In my eyes, the best Pixar has ever achieved and a model which I endeavour to accomplish in my own writing. Precise, succinct, well paced narrative. Powerful and lovable. Every character added just the right amount to the story.

If you haven’t seen ‘Up’ I thoroughly recommend it – and if you live near Didcot, why not hit two birds with one stone? If you’ve got a few hours to burn, it’s not such a bad place to visit…once in a blue moon.

Sam Part 3/3

My parents grounded me for a month. I wasn’t allowed out with friends, no football training and definitely no Playstation 3. Sam, on the other hand, would attempt to visit me everyday and everyday I would tell him the same thing, “go AWAY!”

If Sam wanted to ask for forgiveness, he could forget it. Didn’t he realise that he violated the one code that we all live by: trust. When I returned from school I made an active decision to stay away from him. I knew this would hurt Sam and I wanted him to feel pain. I wanted him to know what betrayal meant, I wanted him to know how his selfish act of being pious affected me.

Luckily for me, the only time Sam would have to see me was during form time. We were in completely different sets for all subjects and for the first time, I saw the benefit in streaming students. I started to spend time with Toby Saddler, the son of the local Vicar. Despite Toby’s background, he was anything but angelic and understood the code. I pretended to invite Toby into secret discussions and we would laugh and share stories about our achievements on the Playstation. I relegated Sam to the companionship of the smart, geeky girls in our form.

The months passed like the swift turning of a page. I grew to hate my time with Toby, his stupid stories about getting drunk and desecrating the graves of the dead on his father’s church bored me to death. The same “hey, guess what I did this weekend…”

And Sam, I hated how he just moved on with his life. How he was able to adjust so well to the change.

How could he betray me like that? Why was he so stubborn? I wanted him to crawl back to me, to say “I know what trust means, I know what comradeship means, I know what being your friend means.” Instead, he continued to spite me with his “new friends”. He needed to learn a lesson on what true friendship really was.

Toby and I found Sam in the corridor with a group of his “friends”.

“Sam, you’re going to have to stop hanging out with these girls.”

“What are you on about?”

“What are YOU on about Sam? Only batty-boys have so many female friends.”

“Go away – you have no idea what you’re talking about. Go find some other goon to harass.”

“I’m not talking shit. I’m talking sense. You’re the one that’s confused.”

Sam moved away from his crowd of friends and tried to avoid the inevitable confrontation.

“Go AWAY!”

I hounded Sam as he walked down the corridor. Toby was by my side like a hyena waiting for the scraps.

“What! You telling me what to do?”

By this stage, a crowd had gathered. I don’t know how much they heard or what they thought. All I knew was that Sam needed to learn what friendship meant. I struck Sam in the face. The crowd roared with excitement.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!”

The frenzy of chants that surrounded me took over my body. I hit him across the face continuously. This is what being a friend is all about. Don’t you understand Sam, I’m teaching you what friendship means.

I saw his eyes roll back, the muscles of his face spasm with every punch. Then I entered into a space where time and sound did not exist. What I struck no longer resembled a face let alone another being. It was bloodied, it held no shape and felt limp and worthless. It was like punching a sponge ball.

Silence awoke me. I stood up and looked at Sam. His body continued convulsing from the impact of my fury. The crowd no longer smiled or jeered me on. They no longer roared with support. Only the scene of a bloody mess stared back at me.

The police, my parents and Sam’s parents were all called in. I sat silently outside the Headteacher’s office as the adults discussed the matter. I still remember the look in the eyes of Sam’s mother as she walked past me - I saw no malice or hatred in her eyes, only confusion.

Why? Why did you do it?

After my fight with Sam, I wanted to ask Sam for his forgiveness. Sam never returned to school after that day and I have never found the courage to go to his home to ask. His family later moved out of our neighbourhood.

I tried to go back to my old life. I returned to train with the school football team but the coach felt it was best that I played elsewhere. He stated concerns about tension rising in the team if I returned. He said my prank broke the code of trust within the team.

Toby found a new set of friends to spend time with. But none of this mattered.

You…I…You…I…SAM…I…

“Friendship” means nothing without “You” or “I”.

Sam Part 2/3

Leading up to the December mock exams, I caught a virus and took several weeks off school. My throat was swollen and my breathing severely impaired. I still remember the atmosphere in my room. The smell of “illness” still lingers like a shroud when I conjure up those memories. My curtains would always be half drawn to allow just enough light in to irritate you. My mum would creep into my room every day to deliver her chicken soup remedies before leaving for work. During those ten days, I believed I was dying not from the illness but from isolation.

With my long absence from school, I was concerned about the exam. I wasn’t the brightest student. Where Sam lacked physical prowess, I lacked academic prowess.

As we walked home from my first day back to school, It didn’t take long for Sam to notice my anxiety.

“What’s up?”

“Nothin’…you know, Christmas is round the corner and I don’t know what to get for my mum.” I looked at the ground, my hand tucked into my pocket. I really didn’t feel comfortable letting Sam know about my concerns. In fact, I wasn’t keen on letting anyone know.

“Do you seriously think I’m going to sit here and accept that lie – c’mon. You’re speaking to Sam. Look, you helped me get into the team. I’m going to get you through these exams.”

I looked at him trying to disguise my enthusiasm with a false puzzled look and shook my head. Sam put his arm around me and motioned me home. We walked back to his house and I continued with my defiant stance against his idea. That evening Sam and I drew up a two week study program.

Despite my lack of confidence in both my own ability and in Sam’s persisitance, the mock exam wasn’t as difficult as I had anticipated. That Christmas, I was rewarded by my proud parents with a Playstation 3 for achieving grades above the targets set by my teachers. My Christmas holiday was filled with laughter and blessed with Sam’s easy company. The Playstation 3 meant that Sam and I spent a lot of time with each other vying for top position in the latest Fifa game.

Despite my success in class, my football was ailing. I was spending more time playing virtual football as opposed to training for the real thing. The captain of the football team suggested to the coach that I would benefit from playing in the B team until my confidence returned. I was fuming with anger and later that week I concocted a plan to have him struck from the football team.

“Go on Sam, just put it in his bag. Nobody will suspect it’s you. You’re picture perfect choir boy. It’ll be a laugh and Damien needs to be brought down a level or two. They won’t suspect it’s me because I’ll be playing on the second pitch.”

“I don’t know. It’s just not right. I mean c’mon, you’ll pick up your form again sometime soon.”

“Just a game? What’s wrong with you Sam, all I have is football. You, you have the magazine, the school band. Christ I even got you in this team and this is how you repay me?”

“All right, slow down…look I’ll do it. But after this, no more.”

“Thanks Sam, you know this means a lot to me. ‘You’…‘I’…friends for life mate!”

After the match, the teams returned to the sports gym to shower and leave for home. Damien on the other hand, was caught with pornographic material that fell out of his sports bag when he unravelled his towel. The team laughed, the coach expelled Damien as captain and banned him for four matches.

Sam never felt easy with the prank but I told him to forget about it.

“Today’s news would be forgotten by tomorrow and Damien will forget the whole incident. It’s just a prank.”

Unfortunately, Sam’s guilt drove him to confess later that week. I was excluded for two days from school for my deceitful act.

It is true. Children can be cruel and when they become teenagers; their loss of innocence reveals a much darker nature.

SAM part 1/3

Sam was gentle and kind. He was my best friend and I loved him. We met one day in a football match. We beat his team 6-1. Sam was a terrible goalkeeper. He’d move to stop the striker but it would be the goal net that caught the ball. At the end of the match it was customary for both teams to shake hands. If I knew that moment was the beginning of my journey with him, I would have made more of an effort to remember the details.

Unbeknownst to me, Sam and his family had moved into our neighbourhood during the summer break. I only realised when I noticed Sam in my year 9 tutor group. He approached me and asked if I was keen to help him prepare for our local football team trials in two months. Despite knowing he didn’t have the ability, I agreed.

“Run Sam! Run! You gotta move faster if you want to get into this football team.”

“Jesus, I’m not like you. I’m not keen on running, that’s why I choose to play in goals.”

We stopped the session and took a break. Sam’s entire body crashed to the ground. His right knee rose creating a triangular shape and his arms were flung over his eyes revealing soaked armpits. His chest moved feverishly. During these weeks of training, I grew to admire Sam’s commitment. He never missed a single session and he always attempted every task I set out for him. The crazy thing was that Sam would fail them but even then, he’d smile, come back the next day and try again.

“Right Sam, It’s time to go home and rest. To be honest, it’s not like Marshmead F.C. The boys here are really focused and some of them aspire to play at national club level,” I said despairingly.

I really wanted him to be part of the squad, but the calibre of the players in our neighbourhood were far beyond the ability that Sam possessed.

“Sorry if I snapped at you earlier, it’s just that I play not because I want to be a footballer but because I like hanging out with the boys. Look, I’ll do my best, if I can’t make it as a player, I’ll go as a spectator. No shame in that. And you’ve been a great trainer and coach.”

“Thanks mate but…”

He stood up, playfully punched me in the stomach and walked ahead.

“But what? Let’s go. I need a shower!”

Despite his appalling skills, Sam was accepted into the squad as a second keeper. It was never his ability that granted him his place but rather his sheer optimism and easy nature. Everyone enjoyed his company and nobody doubted his efforts. Even the coach had to admire and respect his tenacity.

Published Pieces

PRINT AND ONLINE MEDIA

The Guardian Newspaper, January Photo Assignment: Capturing achievement on film (Feb 3rd 2012).

The Guardian Newspaper, Noise Photo Assignment: Noise (January 13th 2012).

Horizons and Futures Magazine, A voice for Oxfordshire Businiess: Portrait Photo supplied for article (Volume 3, Issue 1 2011).

The Guardian Newspaper, October Photo Assignment: Work Place (October 20th 2010).

The Times Newspaper, Fleeting Moments under the column Affair to Remember (p9); The Times2 liftout (September 24th 2009)

DIGITAL MEDIA ONLY

NOTE: All articles are now archived under VentureBeats who acquired Bitmob.com on 13 January 2012

Sony and Customer Care: The Missing Link under Spotlight: Game Character Memoirs, Demos, and Bad Customer Service (February 6th 2010), Bitmob.com

On the contrary: Unlockable content rocks under Spotlight: Iterative Games, Unlockable Content, and the Aggressive Video Game Seller (January 30th 2010); Bitmob.com

On the Contrary: Unlockable Content is Pointless:Editors Choice at Bitmob.com (January 25th 2010)

A Realization about Trophies and Achievements Editors Choice at Bitmob.com (December 3rd 2009)

Game Journalist: is it all fun and games? Editors Choice at Bitmob.com (November 3rd 2009)

Coming around on Open World gaming Editors Choice at Bitmob.com (October 27th 2009)

Life of a Beta Tester: MAG first impressions Editors Choice at Bitmob.com (October 12th 2009)

Lets not do the time warp again (October 3rd 2009); Bitmob.com

Can Games have a political Message? Editors Choice at Bitmob.com (September 28th 2009)

Humans: R we really that smart?

Click what we are to find out the answer.

K.I.S.S. the room exercise

Before: (excerpt taken from Horizon)

He stepped away from his desk to close his office door. The sight of Mrs Quicks gallivanting around the other room no longer intrigued him. In fact, it started to turn into a distraction. Behind him was a glass double door. It slid open to lead out to the patio. The sunlight shone unashamedly through the laced curtains to fill the space of the room. The large room, once a forum for multi-billion pound negotiations and secret acquisitions, was now nothing more then an empty and sterile box. The walls were once filled with an array of framed credentials and awards; now they hold invisible outlines of past accolades. Positioned off the centre of his desk was a small, framed picture of his family: his wife Janelle and their daughter, Eve. Near the frame lay a phone, a laptop, his mobile and some folders. Most of his personal belongings had already been collected and removed. All that remained in the room were shadows of what he once stood for.

After:

This once magnificent room adorned with greatness has become nothing more than a space providing a view. The only notable features left are the crude nails and hinges dotted across the wall. Large glass double doors permit the afternoon rays to highlight its simplicity: a lone desk sits in the centre. Void of contracts, void of nervous businessmen rapping their sweaty fingers gently over its smooth top; the only piece that still rests on its red oak top is a photo of his daughter. This great red oak will now be left for office recyclers to decide its fate.

Τι είναι αυτό

A short film directed by Constantin Pilavios.

We should always remember what our parents have endured for us.

click What is that? to view.

recent success

For the past two months, my journey to discover if I have a story worth telling has been both exciting and earth shatteringly introspective.

Recently I submitted a short story (fleeting moments) to The Times for their “An affair to Remember” column. Last week I received an email stating that it would be published in their Times2 liftout. The news couldn’t have come at a better moment.

My mood has been erratic to say the least. I spent most of my energy fighting of the questions that have become my demons.

Will this journey actually lead me closer to understanding myself? Is my goal to be published born from a passion of writing or a passion of self-gratification?

I also felt a sense of selfishness and guilt. Are the changes I have started to create in my life necessary to help me cultivate and develop as a writer?

I still wrestle with the thought of reducing to a part-time workload. Why? Simply because I enjoy my time in the classroom but realistically, if I am to realise my dream to be a writer, I need to be brave enough to commit real time to it.

On a lighter issue, an article of mine (Can games have a political narrative?) was printed on an online website (bitmob.com) and mentioned in another (gamepolitics.com). This success did bring a smile to my face; despite reading some heated and negative responses left by certain readers.

I understand my last paragraph was emotive, but I never imagined so many readers could focus only on the end (which was meant to be bathos) and forget what the piece was really exploring. Yet, what matters was that the editors of both sites understood the piece and therefore my message couldn't have been that misguided.

In hindsight, the title should have been "should games have..." rathar than "can". It might have helped the readers understand the concept better.

keep your eyes on the ball.

The question “do you know what you are doing?” often springs into my mind.

I would like to think my answer would be “yes”.

But when I look at my current situation, I realise I have often turned my eyes away from what I have and always looked towards what I want.

Is it normal to do so?

One half of me would call it ambition but another half of me claims it as fantasy.

To have security and success in my profession, to have a roof over my head and allowance to buy what I desire is wonderful, yet it is still not enough.

In the back of my mind, I still wrestle with the inner dream of being a writer.

If only I never had this dream!

I certainly wouldn't be plagued with the thought that I have not done all that I had set out to achieve in my life.

Aptly, Babes recently sent me a quote from the American Journalist, Hunter Thompson:

"Security...what does this word mean in relation to life as we know it today?... by this term, I mean a man who has settled for financial and personal security for his goal in life...Turn back the pages of history and see the men who have shaped the destiny of the world. Security was never theirs, but they lived rather than existed. Who is the happier man? He who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed on shore and merely existed?"

The land of the Cones and Signs.

This really doesn't do it justice

Motorways have many lanes, but drivers often find themselves only using one lane for long sections of the journey.

Why? Simple: Cones and Signs.

Driving in England is a unique experience. It is the only country I know where the number of cones and signs on the motorway much the number of vehicles that infest the roads.

I can understand the British government's obsession with health and safety but I cannot help but feel that the measures they have implemented actually make driving more of a hazard.

Traffic jams is an inconvenient truth on any road. The extra cones and signs sadly add to this inconvenience.

Sections are closed off for several miles but areas that are actually "worked on" are never longer than several hundred yards.

Miles of cones block off roads which have signs stating “work ahead” but no workers are to be found.

And what’s with the information overload?

It is as though the government wants to micro-manage how we drive on the road. All this communication simply turns the guidance into a distraction and frustration.

Babes new glasses

With eye-wear like this, who needs enemies?

Babes recently found employment at a private biotech firm in Oxfordshire. I believe their main goal is to develop new cancer therapies. Regardless to say, Babes was informed she needed to buy safety goggles before working on the bench.

I had the preconception that they were simply lab goggles with prescription lenses attached to the inside.

I was wrong.

The adventure started with a journey to visit a friend in Birmingham. He was nursing a broken ankle. In my multi-tasking approach, I had suggested we book a sight test in Birmingham as well.

All went well until we drove home. Again, endless cones on the British motorway waylaid us by stopping traffic needlessly. Surprisingly, we had an irate driver pass us by. She made verbal gestures suggesting we needed our eyes tested. We just had them tested that day!

With Babes receiving a new prescription for her eyes, the second phase was to find appropriate safety eyewear.

Into Oxford we ventured. Oxford is a crammed, over touristic town with very little to see other than old buildings which could be found in better condition in Cambridge.

And as Shakespeare once wrote “what’s in a name?”

Really, never does Juliet’s comment ring louder than when I am in Oxford.

Babes has a work colleague who visits Cambridge once in a while – I really wanted him to buy me a Cambridge top so I could wear it around Oxford. He laughed nervously and gave me the “are you serious” look.

Of course I am serious! He never bought the top.

Damn the British politeness.

Where was this politeness when Babes and I were stuck on the M “whatever” heading out of Birmingham?

So there we were, Babes smiling beautifully as she always does and me being pissed off with the crowd of mindless consumers that walked this Earth. We ventured into every optician in town. All of them had the same frames – big and ugly.

Despairingly, we went for coffee and headed home. Pushed into the corner of resignation Babes accepted the fate of wearing the world’s ugliest glasses possible. We rehearsed in our head the Dr Nerd and Mrs Babes story.

How can one simple accessory change a person’s appearance so dramatically?

Heroically, as Babes is a hero to me, she continued to pursue a better alternative.

Abingdon, a small town about 10 minutes drive south of Oxford held the answer. The answer that took us to Birmingham and back was literally around the corner.

In the end, Babes is still a babe at work. Her glasses are currently being fitted with safety shields and I realised, sometimes what you need is really just outside your doorstep.

NOTE: The glasses Babes settled for are not on display

Feel off? go shop

If we all had one of these, would we be any happier?

So there I was, staring at the screen ready to press “Confirm” only to stop and ask myself – do I need it?

It’s strange how we grow into buying "comfort" as opposed to possibly establishing "comforting" relationships which do not require a credit card admission. I look around my apartment - it’s cluttered with things that Babes and I acquired over the years. And the clutter continues to grow.

I feel guilty because I have already spent over £100 buying things I don’t need such as computer games that I use to keep myself distracted from the everyday things such as work, work and work! ICT is the new TV and “consumerism” is literally on the tip of my fingers.

The problem is I’ve contracted the terrible feeling that certain items I currently own can be updated. My computer is dying, it has no side case and is over 5 years old – in the "Techno" world, that’s pretty much ancient.

The CD and DVD collection can always be expanded. Now that we have Blu-ray, I can’t help but look for cheap deals on movies I already own in DVD format.

Sound Systems – for all those hi-fidelity nuts, it’s a terrible road to travel down. Once started, the system you own will forever be “inadequate”.

When I look at Babes' bag, shoe and clothing collection, I can only conclude that her shopping habits are fueled by the same illogical conclusions that validate my shopping urges: Update!

There’s always something newer, better, brighter.

And I feel bad, simply because buying seems so selfish. Unless you’re buying for someone else, but who in their right mind purchases things that they can’t use?

Shopping certainly has changed and the cogs of the economy have become easier to turn. Now shops are literally in the homes. I still find it peculiar to shop on-line.

In Australia people still go out to shop. I’ve never been keen on the whole “day” shopping experience, rather spend the day chilling in a café or be out and about exploring the world. When I’m at home, I can relax and I guess that’s the trap. Internet shopping allows me to purchase in my own comfort.

Shopping has been amalgamated with relaxing at home.

If you’re not careful, you can pretty much relax yourself to an empty bank account.