The Doubters are Damned

The first passenger on commercial QANTAS flight on Australian soil was an 84 year old man by the name of Alexander Kennedy. Despite being told by friends and family that air travel was potentially unsafe, he merely told journalists "Damned be the doubters!"

I remember reading that in my history book at high school. I was early to science class one morning and my teacher approached me amid my quiet solitude. He glanced at my book, pompously pinched a leaf between two fingers and remarked derisively: "History, eh? You must have a test coming up."

I replied that I hadn't. He flashed a quizzical look at me. Possibly because my marks in science were decidedly rotten and I ought to have been reading my science book instead. Why on earth would I read history in science class? Didn't I know that history is at best a "hobby?" and left to the academic "experts?" Surely no one could make a living from history!

But now, I remember the words of Kennedy. "Damned be the doubters" could be taken as a roaring Twenties variation on "Haters gonna hate" - those who doubt you will relish in your failure but will agonize over your accomplishments. Though it escaped my purview at the time, I did get quite good marks in the arts and humanities though I'd never take any stock in them. Gaining "A"s for history and politics meant nothing while I almost failed mathematics or science. Time and again my family was encouraging me to take up engineering or IT because there was "better money in it." During one point they even professed that taking up a trade was a more worthwhile endeavor than to attend university and pursue a "ridiculous" dream typing up letters and hoping to be paid for them.

Yet, despite oft-repeated criticism, I still love history. Moreover, I still have enough self-belief to damn the doubters and forge ahead.

Most recently, I came into correspondence with Dr. Herb Goldberg. He is a psychologist and a man whom I'd never have dreamed of talking to without a natural curiosity and a drive to find stories and tell them. Its a validation that a faithfulness to my craft has yielded me much joy despite the hardships I've faced.

I feel that my choices in life have not been ideal insofar my financial well-being is concerned but they have been personally and intellectually satisfying. I wonder now, a day after the completion of my Masters degree if I would reverse the decision to study and merely accept any full time job that came my way; and I wouldn't. I have proved to myself that I can do it. Ultimately, that's all that matters.

Thesis Diary #12: Tom Valcanis, MA (ComnMediaSt)

It's done. The thesis is finally handed in and done with. Unless it's a complete cock up, you may call me Master.

But in the last couple of days I've just been feeling incredibly directionless and empty. The words are affixed to paper and the work that I've poured into them seems to have amounted to little more than a pat on the back and a couple of letters I can stick on the end of my name on my business card. It seems my life since the start of 2010 was almost defined by the pursuit of this qualification - now its at the end, I've fallen into the void between a closed point and a new beginning and I'm fumbling around in the dark while I figure out my route out of there.

So I ask myself: what now? There's no concrete succession plan when you're asked to hand in your library card and gun* at the end of (another) degree. You're given the diploma and some platitudes and you're sent on your merry way.

Quite vaguely, I do have a goal. I'll be embarking on another journey towards integration and recovery for the last half of the year, reinforcing my "spine" and softening my "heart." During this time I'll be working to establish myself in the tightly bound and seemingly impenetrable media culture of Australia or even...the world?

I've said my (online) thank yous and perhaps now it's time to say my goodbyes. I was looking for work online the other day when it dawned on me - there's now nothing keeping me in Melbourne; I could theoretically work anywhere I wanted (domestically of course.) So I unchecked the "Melbourne only" option for the first time while browsing careers websites. Why restrict myself to one place? You can't follow your dreams sitting in the one spot, unless your dream is sitting on the couch all day playing Xbox.**

Now I close my thesis diary with this: Thank you, friends. I love you all. Wish me luck.

*they issued me with a gun?
**I don't even have an Xbox. I hear they're quite fun.

Media fever: infecting the political landscape

Look up. Look down. Now look back at the screen. What are you thinking about? If you’ve wasted countless hours on YouTube, you’ll know that I’m referencing the ‘Old Spice Guy’. You’ve been infected by a media virus. But never fear – I have too. In fact, it’s hard not to be.

Created as an advertisement for the company, the Old Spice video spread throughout several media and became what’s known as a meme – a piece of content that ‘spreads’ from host to host. It can even mutate, causing further iterations of the virus, until it lies dormant in the public consciousness to be ‘re-activated’ or referenced at a later time. The fact is, once unleashed, memes never stop spreading, mutating and spreading again.

Read the rest of my article at Upstart magazine.