SWINE Issue 2 2021 - Whimsical

issue 2 • 2021

swine whimsical

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contents Editor’s Letter • Jessica Murdoch Love 101 • Girish Gupta Comic • Julia Ghent & Gloria Ghent The Little Jungle That Could • Eden Young Why Does The Forest Embrace You? • Eli Thomas How-To... Zine • Tim Bengough 8 Signs You’ve Missed Live Music More Than You Thought • Bradlee Jennings Photographs • Manaswi Rimal Paper Dolls • Tim Bengough Moonlight Fairies • Deanne Elizabeth Ocean Like You • Manaswi Rimal Shifting Light • Zoe Sorenson Once Upon A Time: A Modern Fairytale • Jessica Murdoch The Parallax Error • Ayesha Shaikh Interview With A General Rep • Jessica Murdoch Vox Pop • Various Illustration • Tim Bengough

with thanks to our sub-editors: Zoe Sorenson Tina Tsironis Molly Davidson Madison Bryce Jessica Norris

T

he team at SWINE magazine would like to acknowledge the Wurundjeri People of the Kulin Nation, who are the Traditional Owners of the land on which the SSU’s offices are situated. We pay our respects to their Elders - past, present and future.

We also respectfully acknowledge Swinburne’s Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander staff, students, alumni, partners and visitors.

We extend this respect to the Traditional Owners of lands across so-called Australia. We recognise that sovereignty was never ceded.

This land always was and always will be Aboriginal land.

If you would like to learn more about the ways Swinburne University is working to better acknowledge and repair the ongoing harm that is inflicted by colonisation, you can visit the Moondani Toombadool Centre.

Wominjeka means ‘Welcome — what are your intentions?’ in the Woiwurrung language of the Wurundjeri People.

“Moondani Toombadool Centre is a transformational leader grounded in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander knowledges.

Established in 2018, the Centre is responsible for all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander matters at Swinburne, including governance, student services, teaching and learning, research, staff, culture, engagement and governance.

Moondani Toombadool means ‘embracing teaching and learning’ in the Woiwurrung language of the Wurundjeri People.

The Moondani Toombadool Centre is committed to institutional transformation where Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander self-determination and knowledges are the foundations on which Swinburne leads educational change.”

Taken from the Moondani Toombadool Centre webpage. (https://tinyurl.com/wuypfsy) In consultation with the Moondani Toombadool Centre.

jessica • editor

One day I was sitting in the chair at the hairdressers, and I decided to dye my hair Elmo red. When I couldn’t take any more leave without pay, I handed in my resignation and enrolled in a Media & Comms degree. After seeing an ad on TV on NYE, I googled the company and enrolled in an adult ballet class. Sometimes it’s fun to just take a leap. currently reading: Childhood classic rereads and slightly weird, second-wave feminist texts. currently (binge) watching: Bob’s Burgers currently insta following: @jasikaistrycurious @emmahaydenart @alienosaurus

zoe • designer

Some days I take the train to a random station just for a change of scenery. Other days end in unplanned tattoos and getting accidentally locked in the tattoo parlour with your tattoo artist. It is what it is, and sometimes? That’s the best way it can be. currently reading: Thick by Tressie McMillan Cottom (This has been my currently reading for an embarrassingly long time) currently (binge) watching: Avatar The Last Airbender ... for the upteenth time... it’s my feel good show. currently insta following: @handpushed @greendesigns_ @cool_lookin_bug

W

ed it or ’s

letter

elcome to another edition of SWINE magazine!

This year continues to be a little uncertain – we’re in the process of cautiously creeping back to ‘normal’ and adjusting to the strange balance between study and socialising online/ on campus. As a normally self-described homebody, I’ve found myself drawn to groups and events more than ever. I’ve even found myself happy to be sitting down to work in the library! (Who is she?)

Whether you’re just embarking on your Uni adventure, or you’re an old hand, I hope you’re being proactive thinking about how you can get the most out of your Swinburne experience – rallying together to ensure collective spaces are being protected, joining clubs (joining your student union…) and seeking out ways to get involved that feel like a good fit for you. It seems clear to me that many people are – I’ve lost count of the number of students who have reached out, interested to get involved with the SWINE or other creative opportunities (ahem… watch this space!). It’s been so exciting to hear the enthusiasm so many students have for creating and collaborating, and how much interest there is in gathering and creating together.

When we were finalising this issue’s theme, we decided we wanted something that would allow us to play – with content, form and ideas. One of the goals in choosing ‘whimsical’ for this edition was to make some space to bring joy, explore joy, and find

joy in the unexpected.

I certainly feel like I’ve already experienced that in the editing and designing process. The collaborative energy of our contributors, sub-editors and SWINE team has been so much fun for me as we’ve worked together to create this issue.

I think it’s fair to say that this is a very eclectic edition – we’ve got illustrations, comics and photographs, poetry, short fiction, creative non-fiction, potential new series and some hybrid pieces that are difficult to classify! All of them are the result of whimsical experimentation, fanciful fun and creativity. So many of these pieces are the product of people pushing themselves out of their comfort zone and trying something new.

As always, the world is feeling pretty full on and it can be tough to find a balance. The current news climate is A LOT. We hope this whimsical edition gives you a little break, and maybe prompts you to follow a whim and try something new yourself.

You never know what you may discover!

Jessica xx

LOVE 101 Girish Gupta

To the stranger who just went by me: God you’re hawwt, you’re all I see You have hair so pretty and scent of the sky Are you really here or just another forsaken lie?

I looked at you when I passed, am looking back ever since You are a queen, stop looking for just a prince Your crown is made of glass, or maybe diamonds emitting light Oh I wish time would stop and you’ll forever stay in sight But oh! You move away and I can’t stop walking either If I do Love 101, can you be my teacher?

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e l e i t t l

j u ng le tha t

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Eden Young

I

n a world where flora is being killed to make way for concrete jungles, a subgroup of Earth’s population is taking it upon themselves to help oxygenate their surroundings, namely their homes. From a stylish piece of foliage elevating a room, to a parent in search of their substitute child, the demand for indoor plants is…dare I say, growing.

Plant passion in fashion?

One possible explanation for the trend is the increasing sentiment that humans must limit reproduction rates to curb the impact of overpopulation. When individuals choose to go against the call to reproduce, they fill the void of no offspring with other things. Maybe things which require nurturing to survive and thrive. Pets are a common replacement, but a new alternative is taking root, with no sign of slowing down.

Plant ladies Politely step aside cat ladies, there’s a new mother’s club in town. They sport nailbeds caked in soil instead of clothes covered in cat fur.

Plant ladies (who, of course, don’t have to be ladies) generally start with one plant but, soon enough, their collection grows. Inevitably it will continue until every available surface becomes inundated with various sized pots of lush greenery, their homes eventually resembling a small jungle.

Why plants?

Plants not only look aesthetically pleasing, but they also have multiple therapeutic properties. Studies show that being amongst greenery aids stress and anxiety relief, improves memory and even increases concentration.

So if you want to purify your home, then look no further. Plants also reduce airborne dust, carbon-dioxide, and harmful pollutants. Ever look up and see balconies full of plants?

That’s because dense foliage also does wonders to absorb pesky traffic noise.

How to become a plant lady If you’re looking to jump on the bandwagon and adopt, succulents are the recommended plant for beginners.

Supposedly they are hard to kill. Well, they are meant to be. It may turn out that becoming a plant lady is a lot harder than you anticipate.

One new parent, not quite versed in the art of maternal love, oscillated between overwatering and neglecting her new children. The thick deep green leaves of those first precious succulents turned a mushy sick yellow and ended up being laid to rot in the outdoor garden bed. But then, after a little trial and error, she was able to sprout a green thumb and (finally) manage to keep one alive. Now plants occupy her window ledges and hang from her curtain rods, mindfully placed, soaking up the sun’s golden rays.

Growers’ warning You will grow emotionally attached.

You will take pride in their triumphs and feel their pain, from new sprouts to sun-scorched leaves.

Due to demand, nurseries aren’t the only businesses that sell plants now.

Large chain supermarkets display them at the checkout because, like children and chocolate bars, plant mums find temptation hard to resist. You’ll find yourself saying, ‘just one more won’t hurt’, to which no voice of reason could dissuade.

A noble obsession However, there’s no need to fear. An obsession with plants doesn’t hurt anyone. In fact, the rise of plant children is a revolutionary trend. With each new plant mother, the human race gains further respect for the Earth’s ecosystem. So, go propagate and adopt until your home resembles a small jungle. Then, take a deep breath of fresh air, knowing you are helping to preserve the Earth’s lungs.

Y

ou were home.

I saw it in the way you stood.

Relaxed.

At ease.

It was like you could hear your name being called in this clearing.

I saw it in the way the wind blew around you. You promised me you didn’t have control over the weather, but I could swear the breeze matched your breath.

And I know it’s silly to think you control the sun, but when you wake up the day starts. You step outside, the garden comes to life. The flowers see you and unfurl their petals toward the rising light, basking in its soft warmth.

I tried to pick a flower from our garden and got a thorn in my thumb for my troubles. My brother always told me that you had to be kind when you plucked one, so it wouldn’t hurt you.

I always hear you whispering to the flowers. You whisper to the ones with thorns, and the ones without. Why do you give so much energy to the ones that cannot hurt you? You are safe, yet you still apologise when you pull them from the earth.

Are you scared? Or are you truly so compassionate that even the daisies you gather for the crown on my head deserve soft praise as you turn them into something new and beautiful?

They were beautiful before, of course.

The daisies in the clearing are wildflowers that bloom without your tending. But you let them stay. The wind that follows you bends them with the grass, and the entire clearing ripples in waves at your feet.

I never thought the grass would make me miss the ocean.

Not that I was ever a strong swimmer. Once my feet could no longer touch the sand, the water would weigh me down. My mother used to call my hair sandy-blond and I think it just wanted to be pulled under the waves to join its namesake. Now, I only dip my toes in.

I know I wouldn’t feel at home there either, but maybe I just want you to experience that too.

wh y does

t he f o rest

e mbrace yo u?

Eli Thomas

Maybe the wind that carries salt to kill your plants wouldn’t bless you with soft touches. And maybe, the sun that burns your feet on the sand wouldn’t gently kiss your face. Your caring whispers wouldn’t be heard over the waves that crash and spray, and maybe, just maybe, you would know how I feel, back in the meadow that welcomes you.

Because you just keep growing and growing and I just fall fall fall.

And I can’t go home, and I want to go home, and maybe I want to feel like this is home, but it doesn’t.

If I had any connection to nature, it would only be to vines that would wrap around me and pull me into the earth. The dirt would stain my skin and thorns would prick my hands as I reach for the sky I can no longer touch.

Because while you are blooming, I am just sinking.

But you are there, with the breeze that brushes my hair that belongs underwater. You are there, as the clouds break and the sun touches my bleeding hands that claw at the soil grounding me.

You tell me no.

I am not falling. I am not sinking.

You tell me I am taking root.

You sit with me. You promise to protect me until I feel safe, and continue even after I do. You remind me to use soft whispers and tell me that growing doesn’t need to be feared.

You say you want this to be our place, and I want that too.

You share with me all your stories of flowers. I take my favourite from the garden, and I am not pricked. I put it behind your ear, and you fix the crooked crown you placed on my head, and I smile.

This is not yet home. But with you here, I think one day it will be.

Tim Bengough

A

zine (pronounced zeen, like the end of magazine) is an informal name given to publications that are often non-commercial and/ or homemade. Historically they have usually been photocopied or hand drawn, with some zines in the modern era being entirely online!

Zines have a pretty punk history, but the beauty of the zine can be summed up simply by the phrase ‘the sky’s the limit’, because the best thing about them is that they can be about anything! Photos of your holiday? Done.

Some poetry you wrote in year 7? Too easy!! From comics to recipes, from the political to the fantastical; zines can be an easy and fun way to get ideas out into the world.

However, dear reader, if you find yourself asking, 'how do you make a zine?’ Well, you’re in luck! Because we at the SWINE are here to help. There are infinite ways to make a zine, but here is a really cool one to get you started.

Step 1 Fold the sheet of paper in half (bringing the top right corner to the top left corner), then repeat.

Step 2 Now fold the paper in the middle, so that the paper (when unfolded) is split into eighths. Unfold back to the original sheet of paper, then fold it back in half.

Step 3 Using the scissors from the folded side, cut along the middle to the beginning of the next fold line. Opening the sheet, there should be a cut in the middle of the paper.

Step 4 Fold along the cutline. Then holding the two ends, push them together, causing the folds in the middle to separate and expand, creating a three dimensional plus sign. Then simply gather the sections in one hand making a four paged booklet and voila! You’ve got yourself a zine template.

The SWINE team are always interested in our readers’ work, so if you end up creating a zine after reading this guide, please send us a photo. Or, if you post it on social media, be sure to tag us.

We’d love to see what you’ve made!

Things you’ll need:

Scan for video instructions!

8 signs you’ve missed live music more than you thought Bradlee Jennings

I

f live music is the beating heart of Melbourne’s entertainment industry, then the pandemic is the clogged artery that threatened to end it all. As we start to get back on track, let’s briefly recap some of the behavioural changes you may have witnessed in yourself or a loved one, during Melbourne’s live music drought.

1. You’ve become so obsessed with tunes that your self-care is suffering During Bluetooth shower time, you bypass your shampoo mohawk and go straight for the air drums. Bypassing the mohawk is a cardinal sin, but then again, so is feeling the rhythm and not getting down. Keep an eye on your surroundings though; you really want to avoid accidentally punching your shower caddy during the outro of ‘In The Air Tonight’.

2. Your online music consumption rivals your raging Netflix habit You used to appreciate the odd film clip on YouTube when a friend posted a song on social media to illustrate their mood. Now, your wormhole deep-dives include full two-hour livestreams (months after they’ve actually streamed), behind-the-scenes featurettes, obscure demos, and talkshow appearances. You’ve even started watching clips on how guitarists tweak their pedals, yet you don’t play guitar (and you hate Green Day).

3. You apply bar etiquette to your own house You’re so nostalgic for the days of double-parking drinks to avoid waiting in line, that you start bringing two beers back from the fridge to the lounge room to watch WandaVision.

Pro tip: Bump into imaginary punters along the way, getting your floors appropriately sticky. For added realism you can mutter “sorry” and “excuse me” to nobody in particular.

4. You dream about dancefloors and mosh pits instead of kinky sex and aliens Been fantasising about gigs in your sleep? You’re not alone. The other day I dreamt I was seeing Guns N’ Roses at Calder Park in 1993, but I wasn’t ten years old and water wasn’t $35 a bottle.

Perhaps you dream about returning to a huge bush doof, or Meredith, or even just your favourite pub soaking up some acoustic goodness. Fear not... now that live music is slowly creeping back into the spotlight, our hibernation is nearing its end.

5. Your standards have dropped, but your horizons have broadened Buying tickets to shows you’re not interested in just to hear some sweet, sweet tunes? Perhaps you’ve come to appreciate any kind of music. Anything at all. And as you stand on that socially distanced floor, devil horns in the air, tears of joy trickling down into your mask, you think to yourself, “Man, this band is fucking terrible. And I love it.”

6. Your online ticket purchases have become flagrant displays of decadence On a whim, you get two tickets to a live show. Turns out, all your mates also bought two tickets each. However, your focus is no longer on reselling your extra tickets, but on finding a dumpling house permitted to host your whole crew at one table. Money be damned; eye contact and clinking glasses are much more important.

7. You’ve anthropomorphised the furniture at your favourite venues Upon returning to the Corner Hotel band room, you apologise to the giant pole, give it a big hug, and vow to never fight with it again. You tell the proscenium at the Forum that you missed it so very much and blow it a kiss. The couches at Revs are still the tipsy aunties that make you feel right at home. As for the Tote…well, you still curse the bathrooms at the Tote as you carefully adjust your hazmat suit to use the worst dunnies in the Southern Hemisphere.

8. You’ve forgotten how annoying it is to actually be in a bar setting You’re so excited to be back at a venue you impulse-buy a round for the three random people next to you. And when they don’t return the favour, you don’t even care. You used to bug venues and promoters for set times. Now you’re waiting outside, rocking back and forth as the staff arrive. Their annoyance quickly turns to empathy when they see the desperation in your eyes. You’re really going to enjoy moving out of the way for people every ten seconds as you watch your fifth opening band.

So finally, Melbourne’s heart has rested. The stents are in. The scars are healing.

The blood that is our endless throng of amazing musicians is pumping back into our venues. And as we head, fingers crossed, towards a COVID-normal Winter, there’s never been a better time to check out a live show. What are you waiting for?

Get back out there!

Manaswi Rimal

Tim Bengough

moonlight fairies Shining colours of gemstone aplite Sitting on toadstools and hiding in bushes With shining hair so soft, so luscious.

Under rays of cold moonlight A flicker of light breaks the night I hear a giggle through the rushes Against the stream that bubbles and gushes Where fairies dance with glee delight Playing fairy games and tricks to entertain Pouring drinks of sweet honey and nectar And filling the silence with pixie chatter Knowing by morn, only stardust shall remain Deanne Elizabeth

When I look at the ocean, I remember you.

I cannot decide if the ocean is like you or you are like an ocean.

But whenever I see the ocean, I see you.

The ocean is like you: A paradox of paradise The rays of hope Whispers of authenticity And a silhouette of thoughts forming into shadows.

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li

ke

Manaswi Rimal

yo u

I see the chaos of pieces in you rumbling up at the speed of a volcano, ready to burst just like those waves, ready to bring the tsunami.

n a e

PORTRAIT OF FRYDERYK IN SHIFTING LIGHT – RICHARD SIKEN There is something terribly wrong with his face— empty, restless one side older than the other.

What is a thing Sediment. A slow river clogged with, silt. I sussed the gesso into foam and white roses, stalling. I troubled the shadow and silvered his edges.

What can you know about a person? They shift in the light. You can't light up all sides at once. A dd a second light and you get a second darkness , it's only fair. He is look ing at the wall and I am look ing at his looking. Difficult thing, to be scrutinized so long.

I find the parts that overlap with mine and light them up in clays and creams, yellow music singing pink, the flicker of his mouth a purple rust. His face congeals as he settles in. His hair is bronze in here, not gold: walnut, bark, a nd cinnamon, chipped brick tipped in ink . My shadow falls across his face, blue milk and pistachio, his eyes shine like wedding rings. My shadow falls across him and it doesn't go away. Some hours later the light has shifted , the floorboards creak. You can't paint the inside of anything, so why would you try? Painting the inside of anything is dangerous. I imagined my wrists broken just enough to keep the feeling from crawling up my arm.

Dangerous thing: an open arm, an open channel.

All these things , rungs of the ladder. Lovers do the looking while the strangers look away. It isn't fair, the depth of my looking, the threat of my looking . It's rude to shake a man visible and claim the results. This side of his face, now this side of his

face. His profile up against the tulips. I put down the brush and walked around the room. Even when I look away I am still looking. He is inside his body and I am inside my body a nd it matters less and less.

Shared face, shared looking. A collaboration.

He didn't expect to be hand ed over, to be delivered. To be tricked into his own face. Anyone can paint a mask. It's boring. And everyone secretly wants to collaborate with the enemy, to construct a truer version of the self. How much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into something else, before it's some kind of murder? Difficult to be confronted with the fact of yourself. Opaque in the sense of finally solid, in the sense of see me, not through me. The selves , glaze on glaze, accumulating their moods and m in utes. We tremble and I paint the trembling. I enlarged his mouth and everything went blurry, a forgery . It might as well be. And all my fingers turned to twigs. Inside himself he jumped a little. Why build a room you can live in? Why build a shed for your fears?

The life of a body is a nightmare. This is my hand over his face, which isn't his face anymore , revising.

I made a shape of the shape he made, subtracted what he shared with anyone else. There was n't much left but it felt like him, wild and scared.

It was too much to bear. I put down the brush and looked at my hands. I turn ed off the headlights of my looking and let the animal get away.

shifting light

A blackout poem by Zoe Sorenson Written after "Portrait of Fryderyk in Shifting Light" by Richard Siken

o m

d e r n

f a ir

yt

ale Jessica M

urdoch

time : a

o n p a u e c n o

O

nce upon a time, there was a beautiful prince. He had grown up living a charmed life.

Wanting for nothing.

Well, nothing material of course.

It’s a boring trope by this time I suppose, but he’d always felt like something was missing. Connection?

Love? Something intangible that was just beyond his reach.

No-one else could understand, of course. As far as they were concerned, he was living the life of…well, a prince.

A life of privilege and means. When he dared to voice his wants, he was dismissed as ‘selfish’ or ‘entitled’. As far as they were concerned, he had a responsibility to live up to the royal life that had been gifted to him.

And to be honest, he understood that.

He did have so much more than so many in his kingdom. So he put his head down and did his best to do his duty. Sometimes he failed (a life of

privilege can make you very ignorant of many things) but he always tried to do what he could within the system.

He endeavoured to carve out a space for himself where he felt he could be happy. He didn’t know what he didn’t know, and so he was content, at least for a while.

But a gilded cage is still a cage, for the kingdom was also home to a terrifying dragon (another boring trope…why do dragons always have to be the bad guys?). It had existed for as long as the kingdom could remember and, as long as the royal family kept it fed, it would not destroy them.

The prince begrudgingly recognised the importance of keeping the dragon satisfied, although it caused him pain to continue following the status quo. So the pressure grew. The kingdom felt a sense of ownership over their prince, because to them, his sacrifices to the dragon were a small price to pay. After all, he had such a privileged life. He owed them. The pressure continued to grow. The prince began to question

whether he would ever be able to give them enough. Even when the dragon stalked his family, they criticized and shamed. Every choice. Every mistake.

How can a person live like that?

Then one day, he met a beautiful lady. This is a fairy-tale (sort of), so let’s run with the idea that it was love at first sight. She had grown up in a kingdom far, far away. But she was not unaccustomed to the experience of pressure and fame. This was a different kind of pressure though, and as the dragon set its sights on the woman from that faraway kingdom, the prince’s eyes were forced open. He could no longer pretend that this ridiculous life he had been brainwashed to accept as normal, was reasonable. He’d tried so long to convince himself that when you don’t know what you don’t know...but now he did know. And so, they decided to run away from his kingdom, and negotiate a kind of independence. Freedom.

The kingdom accused her of stealing their prince, but the prince and the princess knew better. She had turned

the old stereotype on its head, and saved him. But did they live happily ever after?

Well, no doubt they are still living an incredible life of privilege. And it is easy to ignore the hurt of those who are not lacking in so many other ways. But a gilded cage is still a cage. And what harm does that cage – not to mention the unquestioned acceptance of a symbiotic relationship with a dragon – have on the rest of the kingdom?

Maybe the lesson of this story isn’t that the princess is just as capable of doing the saving. Maybe the lesson is that putting an elite aristocracy on pedestals and expecting them to perform is inherently unhealthy for a society. Maybe we could all live happily ever after if we understood that tearing down the pedestal entirely might allow all of us to do the saving, not of a prince or princess, but of each other.

That we too can disrupt the status quo, allowing for more equity, so that we can all live happily ever after. Or is that too much to ask, even for a fairy-tale?

A

day arrives when you can take a sliding launch from your head, twirling and twisting to the world outside. The world that is just a few steps away from those shoes which have been collecting dust under the bed. As far as the eye can see, which doesn’t seem like such an outlandish philosophical hyperbole anymore, but an experience. The experience of that breeze sprinting through your hair. The breeze which comes from the open sky above, which stretches for miles. The grass so seemingly seamlessly cut. The children’s park around the bend or on that hill, sparking unfounded excitement. People organising banquet parties, reunion dinners or live music at a small café or pub where the lights hem the parapet. When a two-stop trip means an adventure for you. Conversations, laughter, whimsical enacting of memories together is what captures your gaze and holds your smile. Life knits them all around you, and you forget all the what-ifs bundled up inside your head from the months before. These are the small dreams which bloom appreciations instantly, but floatby even faster.

Perspective. The underlying buzzword which encapsulates so much emotion, drive and opinion. Tied to time and culture. This malleable tool has come as the knight-in-shining-armour, allowing the story above to resonate with you. On a larger scale, perspective has the power of changing mindsets, revolutionising artistry and solving life’s simplest of problems. Angling your head ever so slightly, it makes you see the same idea in a new light. To give it new meaning. A metamorphosis.

If one sneakily replaces that ‘idea’ with an ‘object’, and if one is feeling peculiarly bold to change it to a ‘fact’, we find ourselves at the doorstep of the construct of a Parallax Error.

Parallax refers to the change in the apparent position of an object when viewed from two different positions.

The beauty and elegance of physics might make you find yourself in the real world through its abstractions.

Able to relate, explain and evolve with its governance

over the natural laws and phenomenon that can make one marvel or chuckle. I assure you, there are some surprises in store when you consider the realism this concept has, along with its range of application.

However, where that surprise ends, absurdity shall bid to take its place.

A species so visually perceptive that it is now glued to screens – for better or for worse – and forgets nature’s simplest wonders, which physics attempts to map out.

The Parallax can be traced from philosophy in Japan to architecture worldwide. The former of which gave its blessings to what we use as ‘perspective’ to express ourselves so liberally in almost every context.

Trekking along the same journey that our day’s story has travelled, is another surprise. Rewinding to the time when the safe haven of my studies posed as a challenge.

When it made me jolt my neck side-to-side across a lens to get straight-As. Then in the same breath told me to overlook how, when scientists did the same with the sun and the Proxima Centauri, their recordings had the surname ‘arcsec’ inscribed. Curiously trailing along these lines, I realised why sighting through the rimmed circle in a ranged weapon is perhaps not as straightforward as it looked in the movies. How even a ruler could not be trusted. That marked merely the beginning, for I had stumbled upon the mastermind behind these concepts – the Parallax.

Bittersweet stories like these, leave me with a fruity taste. I challenge you to think about your ‘worst’ day and paint it as your BEST. It may just be a matter of perspective. The one error you must indulge in, whilst knowing that it will always be far from the truth and hence open to interpretation.

Forget the known. The set-in-stone.

The immediate descriptors. The insignificant frustraters.

Pick out those tiny sparkles. Let them be amplified in both the days to come and your memories of them. Let that lead your excitement and outlook for many such days to arrive.

Ayesha Shaikh

interview t’s the next round of SSU Rep Interviews! A quick recap, for those who may be new here…

SWINE Magazine is part of the Swinburne Student Union’s (SSU) Media Department.

The SSU is responsible for advocating for students’ academic and welfare needs, managing events and a range of services.

This past year particularly, the union has played an important role in providing a voice for students during a challenging and tumultuous time. You can check out our website for a range of the services we provide.

As a way of getting to know more about what the SSU does, we’re continuing the interview series we began last year, where we take some time to sit down with current office bearers, so that everyone can get to know them and the role they play.

In this issue, our editor Jessica Murdoch sat down with Imogen Atkins, one of our general representatives. Together they talked about her role, how she came to be involved with the SSU, and some little ways that we can all make our lives a little more whimsical.

h a general rep wit

I

JM: Hi Imogen, thanks for meeting with us! Tell us about how you became a general representative – how did you initially get involved with the SSU? IA: I had joined the Student Union’s Women’s Collective when I first enrolled in Swinburne last year. When the state entered lockdown I went to some of the club’s online events, watching chick flicks and doing trivia.

I think it was one of the things that helped keep me sane during that time.

It was mostly this involvement, along with getting to know a lot of the union’s representatives at the time, that meant I was asked later in the year to join the ‘vote together for SSU’ team and run for a general representative position myself. I have been really enjoying it so far!

JM: What does your role entail, exactly?

IA: I’m a general representative of the union this year, so I act as a student voice relaying input and feedback about the union from students. So, along with helping at union events and decision making, I represent the student voice, making sure it is being heard.

to achieve, I'd like to make sure that as things keep changing, everyone knows about and can access the support that the union has to offer.

JM: What do you think are going to be some of the most pressing issues on students’ minds this semester? Do you have any particular goals you’re looking to achieve?

IA: I’m really enjoying the sense of community and social aspects that come with being a part of the union.

It’s a great way to get to know people, as well as just having more excuses to get out of the house, so I’m excited to continue this through the year! I’m also looking forward to helping out at events behind the scenes.

IA: Probably the adjustment to yet another new way of learning. Last year we were completely online, and now we’re facing an odd mix of that and inperson learning. Navigating this new style, along with the underlying issue of COVID in general, are some of the issues that are going to be on our minds this semester. In terms of goals I want

JM: This is your first year undertaking an SSU representative role – what are you most looking forward to?

JM: What is one suggestion or piece of advice you would offer to Swinburne students wanting to involve themselves in the student union movement?

IA: Make sure that you’re following the union’s socials! And of course, don’t be afraid to come along to different events. I’ve found the best way to get involved is to just check what events are happening on the Facebook page.

There is opportunity for involvement in rallies, volunteering, as well as social events with the Women’s Collective and Queer Collective, so just be sure that you know what’s going on! Once you get to know people it becomes much easier to get involved, even if it’s difficult at first. So don’t be afraid to join!

JM: The world’s been pretty overwhelming recently. Do you have any tips to make life a little more whimsical?

IA: If you’re feeling something ‘on a whim’, just go for it. I find it’s better to do something when I’m feeling inspired and take hold of that feeling.

It also acts as a nice reset from feeling bored or mundane. Seen a cool new recipe online or some art that inspired you? Just do it! Even something like going for a walk at a new park counts.

Sure, failing or messing up isn’t fun, but sometimes something new and unknown is what makes life a little more interesting.

JM: When was the last time you made a decision (big or small, for better or worse) on a whim?

IA: I often do little things ‘on a whim’.

Sometimes I choose a new street to walk down or a different supermarket than my usual. Recently I went to my local craft store and got some sculpting clay to make some little projects with.

I’m definitely not an artist, but I was just inspired by some art I saw online and decided to give it a shot. I think that feels pretty whimsical.

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when did you last make a decision on a whim (big or small, for better or worse)?

I had planned out a surprise and a few hand-crafted virtual gifts for my Granny's birthday. On the day of the festivities, I had this fleeting notion of wearing a dress for the occasion and surely the nooks and crannies of my cupboard didn't disappoint. Beyond the initial gasps and eyebrow angles as I dispelled the myths of being a tomboy, I felt confident and beamed positivity. Perfect for the celebrations and embracing the family love shining through.

Ayesha • CompSci I was feeling down in the dumps, so I decided to adopt that ageold advice and go for a walk. I walked 13kms to the Melbourne Museum and explored the exhibits on my own. I hadn’t been there since I was in Grade 2, but it was just as brilliant and awe-inspiring as I remembered. I strongly recommend that everyone take the time to become a tourist in their own city.

Ailish • Teaching and Science

Last year, when deciding whether to study in Russia or Aussie! (of course, I decided to choose Aussie) Tety • Bach. of Science

I started debating on a whim.

Turned out to be one of my best experiences from high school.

Now I've joined Team Swinburne on a whim...

Afnan • Mechanical Engineering

Normally, I wistfully walk past any cool typewriters I see in the vintage/op shops that I tag along with my sister to. One day, I made the snap decision to splash out on a typewriter I didn’t know how to use and wasn’t even sure worked, just because I thought the concept of having one was cool.

Luckily, it worked out well for me because my Gran has spent years using typewriters for work and there were only a couple of minor things we easily fixed up. But there was definitely a moment where I thought my whim would lead to a waste of time and money.

Zoe • Media & Comms

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