Written in response to article in Metro this morning.
I strongly disagree with the FPA’s view that in order to stamp out teenagers having sex too early when they are unprepared for the consequences, teenagers need to be told about sex earlier. Can’t they see that it makes no sense?
Teenage pregnancies, abortions and sexually transmitted illnesses are on the increase at least partly because teenagers are becoming more sexually aware – why? Because they’re being bombarded with sexual messages on a more and more regular basis. Whether it’s sex education in primary schools, condom adverts on television or pop stars prancing around naked in pop videos, it’s a part of the culture that is becoming near impossible to shield children from.
I have never met a teenager who did not know what a condom was, yet so much teen sex is obviously unprotected. Drumming it in further and earlier that it exists is not going to solve the problem. It is also going to contradict the law: “You’re not allowed to do this until you are sixteen, but here’s the information several years in advance”.
Rather than forcing more sex education down children’s throats, facts of life should be taught later and children allowed to be children, rather than sexualised mini-adults. Let’s be honest, how many parents would want their children taught all about sex and condoms at the age of five? Because this is how far it could get before those in control of sex education realise they’re doing the opposite of what they should be.
Thursday, 25 November 2010
Tuesday, 16 November 2010
NaNoWriMo: Novel Excerpt
Casey wished she had brought her sketchbook down with her as she watched her brother race up and down the pool. There were very few guests swimming, so he had most of the pool to himself. Every now and then he would swim up to the side and playfully splash her, and she would do the same back. It was a good quality pool, large and clean, and the room was fairly well lit from a vast glass window in the wall by the deep end. The walls were decorated with Victorian tiles, and Casey kept staring at them, imagining copying the patterns. She was not too bothered about the swimming, although she was quite enjoying the water swirling around her ankles that she was dangling over the side.
“Look, Erri, I’m going to go and get dressed now,” she called to her brother. “I’ve got homework to do.”
“Okay,” he replied, and Casey forced herself to stand up and leave the pool. As she dried her hair, she turned her mind to her English essay. She was having trouble finding sources to quote; her lecturer had suggested browsing a library for anything that took her fancy. Casey had not had an opportunity t sign up for the local library yet, and besides she didn’t want to leave the hotel with Erri still here; she would look at the hotel’s library. From what she had seen of it, the only books in it were decades old, which should at least make her work unique to her classmates’ whose sole source was Google.
As Casey entered the library, she saw that it was not empty. Searching shelves was a young man, several years older than her, who turned and smiled at her. “Afternoon.”
“Hi,” Casey replied, not wanting to be rude. “Sorry, am I disturbing you?”
“By no means. Go ahead.”
She began browsing the shelves, but could feel his eye on her. After a few minutes she turned round and, seeing that she was looking at him, he quickly diverted his gaze.
“Can I help you?” Casey asked.
“I’m fine, thank you,” was the reply. Casey continued to study him. There was a distinct blush creeping over his cheeks and he was now carefully looking anywhere but at her. Seemingly to grab it as n excuse, he removed his glasses and started to polish them on his jacket sleeve.
Casey put her mind back on her work. He was kind of cute, she admitted, but she knew the rules.
Another few minutes passed, and Casey began flicking through the books, before there was another interruption. “Ms Tyrrims?”
Casey looked up, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the man beside her react violently, dropping the books and papers he was holding at his feet. “Yes?”
“Call for you at reception,” her boss answered. Casey stifled a sigh. She desperately needed to change her mobile, the reception here was awful. “Okay, thanks.” She replaced her book on the shelf and made to leave, but a hand grabbed at her arm.
“Your name’s Tyrrims?”
Startled, Casey stared at the man. “Yes – I – Let me go.”
He dropped her arm. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to – I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Not much.” Casey sent him a glare “Who are you?”
“Samuel Willoughby.” He held out his hand, but Casey didn’t take it, and he let it fall to his side again. “I’m sorry – could I -”
“Excuse me, I’ve got a call waiting,” Casey said, and hurried out of the library.
“Look, Erri, I’m going to go and get dressed now,” she called to her brother. “I’ve got homework to do.”
“Okay,” he replied, and Casey forced herself to stand up and leave the pool. As she dried her hair, she turned her mind to her English essay. She was having trouble finding sources to quote; her lecturer had suggested browsing a library for anything that took her fancy. Casey had not had an opportunity t sign up for the local library yet, and besides she didn’t want to leave the hotel with Erri still here; she would look at the hotel’s library. From what she had seen of it, the only books in it were decades old, which should at least make her work unique to her classmates’ whose sole source was Google.
As Casey entered the library, she saw that it was not empty. Searching shelves was a young man, several years older than her, who turned and smiled at her. “Afternoon.”
“Hi,” Casey replied, not wanting to be rude. “Sorry, am I disturbing you?”
“By no means. Go ahead.”
She began browsing the shelves, but could feel his eye on her. After a few minutes she turned round and, seeing that she was looking at him, he quickly diverted his gaze.
“Can I help you?” Casey asked.
“I’m fine, thank you,” was the reply. Casey continued to study him. There was a distinct blush creeping over his cheeks and he was now carefully looking anywhere but at her. Seemingly to grab it as n excuse, he removed his glasses and started to polish them on his jacket sleeve.
Casey put her mind back on her work. He was kind of cute, she admitted, but she knew the rules.
Another few minutes passed, and Casey began flicking through the books, before there was another interruption. “Ms Tyrrims?”
Casey looked up, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the man beside her react violently, dropping the books and papers he was holding at his feet. “Yes?”
“Call for you at reception,” her boss answered. Casey stifled a sigh. She desperately needed to change her mobile, the reception here was awful. “Okay, thanks.” She replaced her book on the shelf and made to leave, but a hand grabbed at her arm.
“Your name’s Tyrrims?”
Startled, Casey stared at the man. “Yes – I – Let me go.”
He dropped her arm. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to – I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Not much.” Casey sent him a glare “Who are you?”
“Samuel Willoughby.” He held out his hand, but Casey didn’t take it, and he let it fall to his side again. “I’m sorry – could I -”
“Excuse me, I’ve got a call waiting,” Casey said, and hurried out of the library.
Thursday, 11 November 2010
Umbrella Care Label
I am your new umbrella.
Caution: I have a mind of my own. While I keep gentle showers from messing up your hairdo, I am not designed to enjoy the kinds of weather you really want me for and will snap my prongs or turn inside-out in protest.
I double as weather controlling tool. Take me out and about with you to guarantee a spotless sky, no matter what the weather reporter says. If you desire it to rain, prepare to take me out and then at the last minute change your mind or forget. Will gather the clouds every time.
Rain wash only. Not suitable for use in conjunction with sleet, hail, thunder, lightning, slush, snow, tornadoes, twisters, tempests or tumble dryers.
The End
Caution: I have a mind of my own. While I keep gentle showers from messing up your hairdo, I am not designed to enjoy the kinds of weather you really want me for and will snap my prongs or turn inside-out in protest.
I double as weather controlling tool. Take me out and about with you to guarantee a spotless sky, no matter what the weather reporter says. If you desire it to rain, prepare to take me out and then at the last minute change your mind or forget. Will gather the clouds every time.
Rain wash only. Not suitable for use in conjunction with sleet, hail, thunder, lightning, slush, snow, tornadoes, twisters, tempests or tumble dryers.
The End
Sunday, 31 October 2010
Caffeine Through the Day: Student
6.00 AM. Sleepy-eyed, dog-tired, face another day of classes. Four teaspoons coffee, sugar and a splash of milk, transport strike and car out of petrol.
9.00 AM. Hellish commute complete, lightly fragranced latte to calm. Sits on desk and gets sipped smugly.
11.00 AM. Class ends, elevenses, munch time. Frothy cappuccino and a piece of cake. Not coffee cake – alas! Hurry to next class, brush crumbs away.
1.00 PM. Sick of coffee. Soothing tea makes up for hurried lunch break. Sidle into seat in nick of time, sigh of relief.
3.00 PM. Will day never end. Eyes tired again, been staring at computer screen too long. Vending machine and Red Bull fix, type double speed.
6.00 PM. Thirsty on home trip, what’s there to drink? Half caf, please, been shaking all day.
8.00 PM. No time to cook, order in. Would you like a drink with that? Coke, please.
9.00 PM. Want to get a drink, mate? No thanks, driving, and early start tomorrow. I’ll get you a Coke, then. Oh, all right.
11.00 PM. Home again, enter room and spot pile of work needing working. Going home tomorrow, no time then. Double espresso to keep awake.
12.00 midnight. Will not sleep, will not sleep. Eyes closing. Invented new cocktail, friends will be proud. Coffee granules and Red Bull mixed in Coke, yes, down the hatch, yuck! That should do it.
1.00 AM. Work done, sent to tutor, jump into bed. No more caffeine for me! Don’t let bed bugs bite, Saturday tomorrow.
2.00 AM. Wonder why I can’t sleep ...
The End
Disclaimer: Caffeine Through the Day: Student is intended as a light-hearted parody of student life, not in any way a realistic representation. The author takes no responsibility for lack of sleep or any other side-effect induced by caffeine over-use as a result of anybody following the persona’s example.
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