why school sux

Education is purposed to help us make sense of our identities while providing the skills for shaping positive and participating global citizens. In westernised countries, where we spend the majority of our waking formative years engaged in compulsory schooling, the role of education in fashioning well balanced contributors is undeniable. Unfortunately, the curriculum of the current system is so cluttered by meaningless requirements and bound by so much red tape that organic growth is stifled and significant exploration of self and world are commonly deemed unfeasible.

One of the biggest tragedies of this era is the way in which students’ inherent capacity for innovation is persistently and ruthlessly squandered through our education system. The way in which we continue to dismiss the value of creativity in favour of a blind and empty emphasis on reading, writing and arithmetic is a primary facilitator of this problem. Despite massive changes to educational theories, our approaches to teaching and learning continue to discourage intellectual risk taking, simplifying concepts and limiting discovery by implying that there is a right and a wrong answer to every question.

It’s absurd that in the twenty first century, we continue to award an apparent value to subjects on the basis of outdated perceptions of economic utility. Somehow, despite radical changes to the global climate, subjects such as mathematics and the sciences are still considered overwhelmingly more important than creative alternatives. Consequently, our education system remains geared toward right brain thinkers. Those with a propensity toward academia who respond to traditional forms of instruction and assessment are able to thrive, and are used as evidence that the system is working. Meanwhile, students who are otherwise inclined are abandoned by the system. Their inability to tow the line is interpreted as antagonism and behavioural rebellion and is typically remedied through discipline. Bombarded with blame and accosted by seamless experiences of crushing failure, these students see themselves as the stupid problem. Hopeless or hardened, they eventually enter the world with a sense of resignation that penetrates the core of their identity and what they could have been. On an individual level this is a tragedy. On a societal level, this epic loss of untapped potential is inexcusable.

Too large a portion of our country’s adult population spend their lives mindless and miserable, waiting for the weekend so they can drown their discontentment by indulging in excess. We waste our existence tolerating the greater part of our waking hours because from our earliest educational influences, we were discouraged from pursuing our passions and dismissed from developing a greater knowledge and understanding through poor teaching. Studies show that those fortunate enough to fall into fulfilling fields of work are more content, less aggressive and far superior contributors to their professions and broader communities. So why, when the benefits are evident, does our education system place so little value on individuality, programming us to fear failure, to strive for less?

Exponential growth in technology and rapid changes to cultural and lifestyle philosophies in the past half century are redefining the role of education. Possessing the skills necessary for survival in an increasingly left brained, beyond the box world is becoming increasingly requisite. Educators should be obliged to equip young people with these tools. Through necessity, our approach education needs to quickly evolve. Yet instead, we remain reliant on an outdated nineteenth century model, originally developed to meet the needs of the industrial age. A system of schooling which favours conformity and standardisation can have limited benefits in a twenty first century context. It’s time to rethink our view of intelligence, as we are entering an era where innovation, difference and diversity will be the qualifiers of success.

Every government makes a superficial attempt at reforming education. Unfortunately, their efforts are usually limited to adding more requirements to an already overloaded curriculum, placing unrealistic pressure on staff and students while leaving the archaic philosophies that undermine the model untouched. The system is failing. What we require is a fresh page on which to begin drawing something suitable for our shifting culture.

For better or worse, schools are shaping the next generations of our society’s adults. Our approach will dictate whether we use this time to prepare positive and passionate contributors or disheartened, indifferent drones. Education should be fuelling students’ fires. As it stands, our system does nothing but squander our kids’ enthusiasm, driving them to opt out; if not literally then certainly figuratively. The repercussions of this reach way beyond the realms of the playground. Education is the institution which is deciding the dynamic of our country’s populace. It’s imperative we begin to get it right.

 

For a deeper understanding of our need for an educational revolution, enjoy this informative presentation by Sir Ken Robinson, a world renowned expert in the field of education. If you’re interested in hearing more, I’ll post a selection of his more engaging pieces on the Facebook page.

 

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facebook: give me my friends back

friend

1. A person whom one knows, likes, and trusts.

2. A person with whom one is allied in a struggle or cause.

3. One who supports and sympathizes.

4. A contact associated with a social networking website.

 

I’ve started to worry that the term friendship is losing its meaning. In light of the above definition, society’s evolving understanding of the word certainly raises a few concerns. Undeniably, what it means to be a friend is slowly being compromised, so that the phrase is no longer reserved for those with whom we feel strong bonds and meaningful connections. Indeed, when considered as a verb (I’ll friend you on Facebook), the value of friendship depreciates and the benefits of being and having friends are significantly weakened.

According to a study by Professor Robin Dunbar, an individual can connect with a maximum of one hundred and fifty people. Of those, the ones with whom we enjoy active friendships are fewer still. As reported by extensive studies, maintaining genuine friendship depends primarily on actually doing stuff together. It’s been established that, with the exception of a very few close and long term relationships, if you don’t physically interact with a pal within a six month period, they will become a distant friend, and from this point it’s only a matter of time before they gradually become nothing more than a person you once knew. This is because friendship is fostered and concreted through three acts: watching the way in which others respond to what you say, the sound of shared laughter, and physical contact.

After reading Professor Dunbar’s study, I thought about the ways in which I conduct my friendships. To my shame, I recognised that in most scenarios, I am not an active friend. Generally I wait for my friends to phone me for a chat, invite me for dinner, arrive on my doorstep for a walk. In a moment of dawning it hit me that if I want to keep my friends, especially now that I’ve moved away, I’m going to have to make an effort to maintain those relationships. Sadly, due to a bad track record, I have many mates who are very barely hanging on to our tattered ties.

This negligence did not happen on its own. My becoming a lazy friend directly correlates with the rise of social networking. When I signed up for Facebook, seeing friends’ statuses and pictures in my newsfeed created for me the illusion of being connected to them. I truly believed that I was interacting when in actual fact, Facebook was enabling me to be a voyeur of lives with which I was growing increasingly uninvolved. In next to no time I developed the habit of writing on their wall when I was thinking about them, rather than organising for us to spend quality time together. Meanwhile, I was growing more and more isolated. I’m sure I can speak for many when I say that, thanks to social media, in the space of a few years I devolved from a kid who would fluidly reach for the landline when I wanted to contact someone, into an anxious creature who’s more comfortable sitting at my pc and offering throwaway lines to the inter webs than pursuing face to face contact.

This revelation goes a long way in explaining why I’ve been feeling lonely of late; I have friends, but I’m not availing myself of their services. So the other night when I began feeling a shade of blue, I did something I rarely do; I phoned a couple of my mates from home. You know what? Suddenly I felt loads better. What’s more, I didn’t feel the need to write an arbitrary and obstructive status on Facebook alluding to my state of melancholy. For the first time in a long while I let my friends help to fix me. The effect was instant and two fold; I felt better in myself and closer to the darling people who had happily picked me up.

So I’ve made myself a promise; I am going to be a better friend. I am going to use my voice, rather than social media, when I feel like speaking with my buddies. I am going to play an active role, so as to make my friendships more meaningful. Because my mates are excellent. And I intend to keep them.

 

Have you noticed social media affecting your friendships? What do you do to keep it real when it’s so simple to be passive?

 

a book or ebook?

I used to believe in the humble book. There was a time I was certain that nothing could come between us and our fistfuls of musky scented yellow pages; that undeniable sense of character imparted by time and the tender hands of countless companions. Somehow I was sure that no matter how technologically advanced we became, nothing could possibly replace an authentic and unassuming hard cover.

There’s something deeply romantic about the book; a physical collection of words and sentiments, whose compilation is tangible evidence that as a people, we have existed. Through the book we happily accept the love and laughter, tears and tragedies of others; a testament to the human condition. Then when we’re done, we pass it on so that those words that shook us might wake the senses of a new reader. In that moment when we hand it over, we send our own story wordlessly with it; an unspoken yet undeniable shared history that can be sensed in the margins of every page. The happy knowledge that the leaves you now turn have been caressed by some number of others, binding you with your humanity, like the linking fingers of a best friend.

I was wrong, of course. I have always been, above all else, embarrassingly naive. How green to imagine that while the rest of the world became increasingly clinical, disinterested in their brother and the intimacy of breathing someone else’s air that the defenceless book could survive. No one wants to own something that’s been handled by an unfamiliar other any more. We want to live apart. Possess our own things. Selfishly believe the world is ours; that we are the only one. Populations are booming, but even as we’re forced to dwell on top of one another, moving ever higher into an unconquered sky, we are slamming tight our shutters.

Needless to say, there will always be stories. We’re too governed by ego to let the story die; we see ourselves in every narrative and our sense of self importance is affirmed. But books and stories, those words that were once synonymous, are about to be broken apart. Driven by our need for efficiency, we can now download our own version of the texts we wish to read. These days we need not even leave the house. What a blow of cruel irony when the interwebs adopted the phrase connectivity.

Like so many things, it’s come to pass that every book you own can be uniquely yours; you read it once but do not pass it on. The pages are ever crisp and white; untarnished as a surgeon’s scalpel. But the romance is gone. In our hunger for perfection and instant gratification we have sliced off and slaughtered the glorious romance.

are books becoming kindle? like, literally?

It’s been estimated that within this decade, electronic books will have completely replaced commercially available paper publications. There are of course, many advantages to the electronic book. Affordability is one; for the time being, they are certainly cheaper. Owning an electronic reader also means you can have countless titles at your finger tips. Many people are also citing the environmental card, claiming that the e book is better for the environment. I’m not sure I buy this one. While I’ve done exactly no research on the subject, I can’t believe the process involved with constructing these little gadgets is particularly sparing on the fossil fuels.

 

What do you think about our move toward electronic books?

Have you taken the leap to e reader?

How do you feel about the humble hard cover being made redundant?

 

the problem with god

My Beef With the Big Guy In Two Parts

There are very few topics that are almost certain to cause rifts and divisions, even amongst the closest of friends. Regardless of how delicately you approach the subject, you can almost guarantee that a discussion of religious beliefs will end with somebody feeling offended, marginalised or ridiculed; unless you’re fortunate enough to be talking purely with like minded individuals, in which case it will be less of a discussion and more of an open and shut ‘amen brother’ with either religious or ironic sentiment, depending on the company in question.

Spirituality is something that we take very personally, as it’s a subject on which many of us have spent significant periods of time reflecting in order to articulate, at least on an internal level, how we feel and where we stand. My personal opinions on the matter are many and varied and have endured an almost constant state of flux over the years. The basis of my current convictions can be found below.

NB I think it’s worth noting that the God to whom I’m referring throughout this text is the Christian God; the only one with whom I have any experience. Though I imagine the points raised may resonate for many religions, perhaps especially western varieties.

If you are easily offended, perhaps tune out now. You have been warned.

 

Part One: The Almighty Bollocks

I was raised in an open minded household where we were encouraged from a young age to question the world as a way of formulating opinions that were our own. I was sent to Sunday School every week until I was twelve years old in order that I might be able to make an informed decision regarding my stance on religion. As a teenager, I frequented religious youth groups where the majority of attendees considered themselves to be devout believers (even if many were apparently more than a little confused about what this actually meant). So I guess it would be fair to say that over the years I have more than dappled with religion.

I have a lot of respect for religious parables and the morals of the scriptures; that we should treat others how we would like to be treated and that we shouldn’t steal or lie or covet someone else’s missus are all good ideals by which I am happy to live.

What I don’t like however, is this God character. The original Big Brother, this fellow allegedly has access to all of our innermost thoughts and feelings and is responsible for all the good stuff that happens to us whilst simultaneously staking no claim whatsoever over the bad stuff (which probably occurred as a result of our sinner status to either make us stronger or punish us, depending on which disciple you ask).

I have serious issues with the notion that we’re all dirty sinners who need to be purged through devotion to some omniscient being who apparently created us as a trip for his own ego (‘worship me!’). This is psychological blackmail at its finest. When I was a little girl my mum decided she didn’t want a family any longer and so left for greener pastures, leaving my dad and us four kids to fend for ourselves. After being taught about the power of prayer at church, I prayed to God every night for longer than I can remember so that he might send my mum home. Of course, she never came back. According to the lessons taught at scripture, this meant one of three things: I wasn’t praying for something important enough, God didn’t think I needed the thing for which I was pleading, or I wasn’t a good enough believer to have my prayers answered. None of these reasons are without grim ramifications for the seven year old psyche.

I suppose the point to which I have always returned is that if there is a God, he isn’t a very nice one. War and death, the invention of evil and the alleged role of women aside, the primary reason I don’t think he’s much of a good guy is the way he is trying to trick us. Why should he insist we rest the fate of our eternal lives on a matter of blind faith? Surely he would be happier to know that he had created thoughtful and critical beings who didn’t accept the (let’s face it) whimsical claims written down by some other dude, but rather wanted to know a truth before we would up and die for it. If there was a God, I would have a lot more respect for the guy if he was to come right out and, with a big old PA system rigged up in the clouds by Moses and the roadies say something like: “Look, here I am. I created you guys from nothing but my own mind’s fancy. And I made the sunrise and lady beetles and every single blade of grass, too. Isn’t that excellent? I deserve a bit of praise, don’t you reckon? Think about me on Sundays and try to be good to one another. Then when this is all over, come on up here and we’ll all hang out. Because I love you. Peace out, guys.”

Instead, this God fellow wants us to believe in him for no reason other than just because. And for those of us who weigh it all up and conclude that we think the notion of an afterlife is pretty far fetched, and that the scientific explanations of things sits more comfortably with us? We are punished by an eternity of fire and brimstone. Nah, man. Not cool.

 

Part Two: Making Peace

After fighting with God for so many years, one cannot help but feel a little exhausted. So recently I made a peace with the topic of God and this has resulted in my achieving a genuine sense of inner calm regarding this issue. You see, I have always been a spiritual person, if in a very secular way. Every morning when I wake up, I fill my lungs with air and smile that I am alive. I go for walks in the evenings and get so filled with the beauty of things that I get this uncontrollable desire to yell really loudly and hug perfect strangers with a firmness that could be disarming. Seeing the moon glowing up in that crazy blue and the waves thundering onto the shore overwhelms me to a point of breathlessness.

Recently it hit me that perhaps these are feelings that some people attribute to their God. That for them, these feelings are God; that he is just a word they can use to sum up their love for the world, for their lives, for friendships and family. And I realised, too, that when we die, nothing ever ceases to be; the energies that allowed us to laugh during our time are simply released into the world where they are absorbed by other living things, so that the boom that beats my drum might one day help a flower to bloom or a butterfly to break free of its cocoon, or perhaps something less poetic but equally as deserving. : )

Since time and memoriam religion has had this fatal ability of dividing us all. Surely in the twenty first century we have the mental tools required to realise that as a collective humanity we have more commonalities than we do differences and that this truth extends to religion.

For me, there is no God in the sense that the Bible dictates. Rather, God is simply a metaphor created to explain to small children the divine nature of life. In which case, God is neither good nor bad. She doesn’t favour righteousness over other human conditions, she doesn’t punish or reward and she has no idea or interest in what you are thinking. In saying that, she is very beautiful, and without her we wouldn’t be here.

It’s time to stop being accountable to archaic scriptures and the conventions of organised religion which were set forward to control the masses all those years ago. The folks of the past were unwillingly the ignorant and the indoctrinated. In the twenty first century, the Bible should be considered nothing more than a literary masterpiece and an historical artefact. At this pivotal point in the pilgrimage of humanity, let’s take charge, and allow our minds to be the key to our freedom.

 

same sex marriage. or, what is quickly becoming gay marriage

Mar-riage

  • A relationship in which two people have pledged themselves to each other in the manner of a husband and wife.
  • The legal or religious ceremony that formalises the decision of two people to live as a married couple, including the accompanying social festivities.
  • Any close or intimate association or union.

For a long time now, the word ‘marriage’ has been applied figuratively to describe any close union, or the blending of two things that had once been separate. Originally, the word stems from the classic Latin verb maritare, meaning simply ‘to marry’, and is used to refer to the joining of people, animals and even the crossing of grapes in viticulture. This raises a poignant, if slightly obscure question: if grapes can get married, why can’t gay people?

The issue of gay marriage has been bombarding both public and political arenas of late. The focus of the debate is as follows: Is it time to change the laws of our country so that same sex couples can be permitted to enjoy the same marriage rights as their heterosexual counterparts? And the consensus? The general populace’s viewpoint (at least, that of the younger generations for whom I can reasonably speak) appears to be to each their own; let them marry if they wish, what does it matter? However, if you belong to a minority, such as an extremist religion or a political party, your opinion is that marriage is a sacred ritual and should not be bastardised by the likes of sinning homosexual couples. So far, the minority are owning this one.

Let me begin by addressing those individuals who, for religious reasons, disapprove of altering the age old tradition of marriage. Guys, I totally get it. You probably don’t approve of watching television, either, and if you’re a lady, you doubtlessly still wear a hat to church to cover your hair, which you’ve never in your life had cut. You believe that in marriage you must obey your husband (and this would become terribly confusing if at least one of you weren’t male). You live in the manner that the bible dictates and you are closed minded to anything which compromises the laws of your God.

Well, good for you, but let’s be realistic. Recognise that your closed minded ways, and I say this without negative connotations and with complete respect (after all, life for you in the twenty first century must be both tricky and tempting) make you very much a minority. The overwhelming majority of us are moving forward, god or no god, towards a more balanced and more comfortable future. Surely you must acknowledge that while your beliefs are valid, it wouldn’t be fair to expect that they should effect the larger population. In truth, I hope that you can continue to approach marriage with the same respect and caution as you always have (after all, since marriage is sacred, and I’m not arguing that it isn’t, you certainly wouldn’t condone an abomination such as divorce. Geez, what would Jesus do?)

That dealt with, if you are not a religious extremist, it is entirely illogical to perceive marriage with such rigidity that you cannot entertain making the glorious sanctity all inclusive. The truth is that, perhaps sadly, perhaps gladly, marriage is not now, nor has it been for a long while, the sacred ritual of days gone. Aside from countless other factors, for the vast majority of us, the underpinnings are barely religious at best and the ceremony is entirely rescindable.

The inability to accept change appears to be the largest issue preventing the legalisation of same sex marriage. This is confusing however, as changes in our cultural value systems have already affected marriage in big ways. If it’s okay for straight couples (incidentally, I hold the term ‘straight couple’ in contempt; the connotations are immediately suggestive of inflexibility and a depressing dullness. I may like boys, but I’m still an interesting person) to engage in second or third marriages when the first doesn’t work out, and if we’re alright with people entering into a marriage after having already lost their virginity, why uphold the gender specifications of the said parties? This is the twenty first century; if we are able to bend other components of the tradition when they become outmoded or are no longer relevant, what is preventing us from continuing this process in favour of equality? After all, it’s not as if you’re being made to marry a same sex person against your will (though in saying that, history dictates that the sanctity of marriage isn’t necessarily against forced unions). Same sex marriage is a non event.

And now we come to the point: I don’t think the majority of politicians really have a problem with gay marriage at all. I put it to you that the single reason the current government and their combatants are allowing the issue of same sex marriage to consume so much air time is that while our focus is directed at a valid yet relatively trivial topic, the public are being successfully distracted from important issues that should be receiving wider scrutiny. Truth be told, gay marriage is being used as a shield behind which the politicians are seeking shelter until the next election.

I think it’s worth entertaining the theory that the fuss being made over same sex marriage is bluff; an issue being used to absorb our attentions so that we fail to notice the parties’ inadequacies when dealing with the things that are fundamentally important to the strength and wellbeing of our rickety nation.

 

Gay marriage? Tell me about it.

 

 

the selfish nature of giving

 

In the season of indulgence and excess, people find themselves thinking of Africa. Whether briefly or otherwise, we allow our thoughts to wander to the various third world poster nations and we proffer throw away statements to families who doze with bursting bellies; if only there was a way to share our leftovers with the needy. After having this thought and recognising the impractical nature of such a venture, for the most part we feel better, though for those of us who have a guilt that’s slightly harder to abate, we can call the number on the screen and commit to a dollar a day before breathing a sigh of relief that we’ve done our bit for another year.

This time three years ago I was commencing my first trip into the big world on my own. I flew to Africa and spent six weeks on a volunteer project in Swaziland, assisting in a day centre for orphans and building mud brick houses for disadvantaged families. This programme was coordinated by a not for profit organisation who offered various packages to people wishing to see the world while ‘making a difference’. As I boarded the plane that day in early January, a warm glow surrounded me; I was doing something noble and good. I had been blessed with a life of opportunity and privilege, and now I had a chance to give back by voyaging into the third world with the vague intention of ‘helping’ in an effort to prove that I was open minded and generous. After all, I was under no disillusion; I was one of the lucky ones.

Being born beneath the star of cynicism, while others blindly embraced the tour, as the weeks unfolded I became increasingly aware that the ‘aid project’ with which I was involved was in fact just another tool of the western world. Rather than existing to bring about a shift in the social taboos of the SiSwati people and instead of possessing the intention of building infrastructures and providing educational opportunities to close the gap for the African nation, the programme was little more than a commercial venture fuelled by the discontentment, guilt and arrogance of the first world; people like me, who had tricked ourselves into thinking we were there for others. Actually, we had come purely for selfish gain, hoping to find ‘meaning’ in our lives, or else to offer some kind of something as a means of making ourselves feel better about the fact that we’re doing nothing significant to adjust the disparity between the first and third worlds. We ‘volunteers’ give a month of our time and believe that we’re square; we pay our tribute before returning to our modern conveniences without having to feel responsible. Of course, it didn’t work out that way and I came home feeling a fool for the ignorance that I had exhibited regarding the state of poverty stricken nations.

However, visiting Africa certainly taught me many things that I hadn’t expected to learn. For one thing, I was shocked when I was informed that in countries such as Swaziland, our ‘help’ is actually enabling a self destructive ethos for the local people. During my visit in their country, I spent a weekend with a man named Myxo who still lived the traditional lifestyle of the SiSwati people. He explained that by sending money or visiting his country we are being unwontedly selfish; that in a Kingdom where the soil is fertile and land is freely given by the King to any SiSwati man willing to reside and work it, his people are choosing to migrate to the townships frequented by white tourists in order to sit with destitute expressions and be given cash by ignorant but good intentioned westerners, rather than bothering to earn an honest living for themselves.

I also returned with the sobering realisation that no amount of ‘giving’ is going to abate those feelings of discontentment with which so many of us from the first world are plagued. After being back for a few weeks, while I remained abstractly aware of the blessed lifestyle I enjoy in Australia, I was no happier about my job or personal prospects. This desensitisation led me to wonder at whether, rather than being justifiable feelings, perhaps I was simply a victim of the western condition; that in the absence of genuine problems over which to fret, we invent our own sources of grief and suffering. Upon considering this theory, suddenly my various basis of angst seemed pathetic and invalid.

Without a doubt I consider it is good and healthy to open our minds to other places in the world, whether through travel or by other means of educating ourselves. In saying that, I am ashamed to admit that despite the sobering realisations I made regarding Africa and our bandaid treatment of the country, I have done nothing for these people since arriving back in the land of opportunity. I guess the size of it made me feel impotent, though I know that’s just an excuse to make me feel better.

Please be aware that I realise that I’m judging we westerners harshly here. I have a lot of faith in the human spirit and on a basic level it’s great that we consider others and recognise that we are lucky people. I also recognise that when we donate to one of many and numerous charities to ‘save the children’ we’re trying to help in the only way we know; by sending money, the single entity we value above all else, aside from our comfort and lifestyle. We are also targeting our efforts towards the only continent the majority of mainstream organisations encourage us to assist. When it comes to Africa, we’ve been alerted to a problem and we’re doing what we can to fix it. This can only be a good thing.

Certainly, it’s imperative that we recognise that it isn’t only in Africa that people are having a hard time. In fact, there are many places where communities are finding things much, much worse; at least the majority of African countries endure their poverty in relative peace (though of course there are exceptions to this; the Ivory Coast has been in a constant state of war for many decades). Unfortunately, many places sorely requiring foreign aid aren’t considered trendy to assist. Somebody’s agenda clearly dictates it either unfavourable or unbeneficial to acknowledge the humanitarian needs of political refugees in war torn countries, for example. It’s hard to accept that those who are most in need of our support are the very ones whom the government and popular media of our country have chosen to censor.

So this holiday period, why not dedicate some of your spare time to considering the places in the world which are currently most in need of our support. Africa will not be forgotten if you spend an hour reading about the current climate in Palestine, for instance. For an easy to follow explanation of the history of the conflict, here is a website you can visit: http://www.merip.org/palestine-israel_primer/intro-pal-isr-primer.html. Or to view current statistics regarding the war and learn more: http://www.ifamericansknew.org/.

If you learn something new, tell a friend about it. Because more than anything else, well intended Australians simply need more information regarding the political climate of what is rapidly becoming a global village. Let’s face it, being the barer of this information will feel much more rewarding than providing your bank details to an automated voice message recorded by an organisation preying on your guilt and already maxed out credit card.

Happy holidays, guys. x