Face Hats and Gladiators.

Dear reader,

It's Saturday. People everywhere are out partying and generally having a jolly good time. Good for them. The time will come for me to join those people, but for now I am perfectly happy to lounge about on the sofa  watching reruns of Friends before occasionally stuffing my face with garbage.

Which leads me on to today's topic. No, not the garbage stuffing part, the reruns. Today, I shoved some pizzas in the oven, took the ice cream out the freezer and settled on the couch. Sounds like a plan, right? Well yeah, that's kind of our Saturday night family routine. Only problem is, when we finally sit down, we spend 10 minutes flicking through channels in the vain hope that something, anything will show up.

Aston defying gravity by wearing a hat on
the side of his face. 

Saturday night TV used to be great. There was The X Factor, but that's all gone downhill since Simon left and the auditions became in front of an audience. When that wasn't on, there was BGT. That's ok I suppose, but Amanda Holden claps like a seal and, again, Simon left. Got To Dance is about the only talent show I can bear to watch now, but dear oh dear oh dear... there's a new judge. Aston flipping Merrygold. Who doesn't actually know anything about dancing, and can't wear a hat properly. Look, just look at him. It's a disgrace. Can you imagine what his grandmother would say? I-I just... I just can't...

Does anyone remember the show Gladiators? You know, the one where contestants would battle against the gladiators and the white haired guy with the whistle would shout "CONTENDERS... RRRRRRRRRRRRREAAAAADY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GLADIATORS... RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREAAAAAADY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

No? Ah. Look it up, it was a favourite of mine.

So with nothing decent on, what are we left with? Cheesey films starring unheard-of actors who never made another appearance? Thanks, Sky. Remind me never to invite you over.

Well, enjoy your Saturday evening folks. I'm off.

Keep reading!

Liv.

Maths? Pah.

Dear reader,

I would like to begin by apologizing in advance to all maths teachers. This essay is simply a matter of opinion. I do not wish to hurt anyone’s feelings, I just want people to realize that mathematics is a hidden form of torture. 

I mean, come on. I don’t care how many apples John has if he and Steven both had fourteen to begin with and Britney Spears got a boob job. I don’t care. Aside from the essentials, we are never going to have to use this crap in the future. So why must we sit in in a stuffy, humid classroom on a disturbingly warm seat in order to work out the value of x? 

As far as I know, the people who may require algebra in their jobs include electricians, mechanics, plumbers, construction workers and accountants. Fair enough, but not all of us want to become some kind of engineer; some of us are perfectly happy to work as a zoologist or interior decorator, in a world far away from complicated nonsense. Like I said, the basics are all we need.

Addition and subtraction and multiplication and division and percentages and fractions are basics. These are essential. Quadratic equations are not essential. I strongly believe that the only other time in our lives when we will have to open the mind cabinet labelled “surds” is when our own children come home with homework they don’t understand. That, dear reader, is where the cycle repeats.  

Now, I’m a reasonable person. I’m not saying that maths is a complete waste of time. It is a handy skill to be able to add up price tags to work out whether or not you can afford to buy the shoes and the scarf, or if a distressing decision must be made. I don’t hate maths. I find some aspects of it tedious and frustrating, but others are manageable. Despite an earlier paragraph where I rambled on about the uselessness of algebra, I actually find it the most enjoyable sub-topic in the textbook. Typical, eh?   

It’s a shame, some parts of maths are actually quite important. Standard deviation, for example, is a dreary, complex area which could prove to be vital in later life. Unfortunately, I see it as more of an excuse to draw lines all over my jotter page.

The same applies to trigonometry. It is an almost understandable feature of this cruelty, however (unless you become an architect or something) it’s hardly a necessity.

But do you know what I’ve discovered makes any part of maths a thousand times worse? Drawing a graph. Solve this equation, and then graph it. Calculate the value of x, and then draw a trigonometric graph to show this. Amuse me, puny 3^rd year, because I have nothing to do with my spare time other than write textbooks ordering you to draw squiggly lines to prove something I already know. They must really get a kick out of the idea of 100 and something children simultaneously groaning as they turn to the allocated page. Sadistic, don’t you think?

So there you have it. One and forty-seven ninety-fourths of a page explaining why maths is stupid and a waste of time. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to use sine and Pythagoras to solve the area of my toast.

Liv.