rules for survival

My dearest self
All of life is only a continuation of high school. Whoever told us that was definitely on to something. First year is coming to an end and the only thing I’m certain of is that this is just a bigger playground. So in the spirit of making it easier I decided to give a hand guide to what you’ll find.
Before we begin you need to know a secret that no one knows what the hell they’re doing. Let’s start from the big guys, who have gone through all the stages and have earned their titles as the ring leaders. These are usually the third year students, fourth year and up are normally too busy to go around making others feel socially inferior. These are the people that create the various clicks. There are many you can choose from such as:
The environmentally conscious: basically smoke a lot of weed and just want a happy world to live in. There is a dress code for each click or else it would just simply be called high school. To fit in this group you would have to wear floral skirts and shirts preferable dyed and for a reason not yet known big heavy shoes.
Then you get your fashion setters. They all basically wear the same stuff that they “secretly” got from Mr Price. This has to be the most complicated of all the clicks because no one is ever a member. If you miraculously are the hit for the day then all the others will be envious and start hating.
“I’ve got 99 problems but a bitch aint 1!” Next is the Hip Hop heads who dress baggy and some even carry out the lingo, hey mommy! Listen to a lot of hip hop and get trashed like mutherf!ckers. For this group its all about the music, please don’t get me wrong they know their stuff- each one teach one. But all of this would mean nothing without the honeys. Let’s be honest Booze, women and good music is not a bad combination at all. But this aint you.
Listen, what I’m trying to tell you is that don’t go around looking to fit in, it’s not always about finding the perfect match. It’s a sad truth, sorry buddy.
Stay real

CoUnTrY BuMpKin

by Lauren Roodt
I had a bit of a profound revelation today as I walked up the hill carrying 5 kg's of liquid with me as well as the other "necessities" that one might expect a girl to want. It dawned on me that I am the biggest, most undeniable Country Bumpkin to gallop into Rhodes on my high horse. Typically, if I saw a girl staggering up the hill with bottles of water I would laugh at her and probably call her a rich little snob but of course I would never call myself that. No. It simply reinforced how countrified I really am. Chlorinated water just does not gel with my system. Fullstop.

I am one of the lucky kids out there who has had a rapidly flowing spring constantly trickling past her house. A daily abundance of full cream milk straight out of Mama-mia (our Friesland cow) overflows out of our fridge. Pure, unpolluted, country air is absorbed into my lungs and there are never ending hills to frolic in (talk about stress relief). And, best of all, the cool smell of a thatched house on a scorching summer day and the oozing warmth of the fireplace while watching the snow fall outside.

Sadly, at Rhodes I feel obliged to keep in touch with my inner "boere-meisie" by buying the Country Life magazine, to indulge in my two litres of vanilla milk a week (if I can afford it) and to support Aquelle (after all- they bottle their water not too far from my real home).

Rhodes may have that small town feel to it but it so sadly misses the true joys of Country Living.

Forever young

I found this pic on Harold's planet and thought it related nicely to my letter to a younger self (Mature Adult? No Thanks!)...

Pulling off plasters

by Lauren Roodt
It's funny how when one has motivation anything is possible. The Oppidan Press, one of our student newspapers here at Rhodes, hosted a series of workshops this Saturday (27/09/08). The workshops were centered around sensitivity in the media. Now, for me who probably isn't the most committed journalist on the block, the thought of going to this was almost as agonising as the head-ache I had from the night before. But, with the promise of a certificate upon completion I pulled myself out of bed (maybe I should say plopped coz that's the kind of noise I made when I hit the floor) and rolled down the hill to meet my death. (Why would I do that all for a silly certificate? Well, my Journ vacation work got messed up for me so I figured that I had better push for as much extra credit as possible. Go figure- I only do things if there's something in it for me.)

Now usually if you say the word 'workshop' my mind goes to talking to strangers (urghhh!), group work (bigger urghhhh!) and the worst of it all... actually having to do (extra) work on my Saturday (URGHHHH!). However, suprised as I was to hear myself admitting it, the workshops were actually super fun! They were full of confrontation, fresh ideas and they used atypical methods to get their points across. The speakers from Amnesty, GAP, SHARC, and a speakers from the Afrikaans and Xhosa societies were confident, brave (we fired some mean questions at them) and they knew exactly what they were talking about. The main body of the workshop was based on discussion from us (the baby journo's) which lead to some firey looks and loaded words being shot all over the place but all were relevant and worthy issues which need to be raised by more people.

What struck me the most was how all of us Whities shut up when race (that big ugly word) was discussed. All of us were too scared to speak. Quite ironic considering that we were journo's attending a workshop on how to say what we think but in a sensitive way. It just hit me how people are so terrified to say what they think in fear of doing something wrong. I think that this is why nothing seems to be changing in SA. Everyone is too chicken. Nobody wants to say something because race has been made so prominent in SA. I just think that we should deal with it in the same why that you pull off a plaster. Admit you are going to have to deal with it, close your eyes and pull. I really believe that if we just took a deep breath and just did our jobs things would straighten out and would be a whole lot less painful than if we dwell on the issues and go slowly because we are too afraid of what the result might be.

Call me SuperMOO

by Lauren Roodt
Now, to all of you enthusiastic future first year's. There is one thing that you need to know which will draw the blood from your veins and rip your heart out of your chest... the fire drill.


Our residence - no names mentioned but one up on the hill - religiously holds a fire drill each term. So religiously in fact, that I have now developed a sort of sixth sense. I know when they are going to pounce out of the shadows and claw their way into my mind. My friend lives right next to the fire exit so she gets kindly woken up before hand by the sub-wardens while they move dustbins and loudly whisper amongst themselves. Bracing themselves for the heart wrenching, mind twisting, blood bursting wail that the siren releases. I, on the other hand, still have to rely on my super human sixth sense to tell me when these things are going to happen.


Last night something however, was on a mission to defeat my powers. I had no prior warning from my sixth sense. But true to form I displayed super human powers...When I was jolted from my sleep like a 6 year old in his bumper car my super human ability kicked in. With one swift movement I was up on my feet. I wrapped my white blanket cape around me. Scooped up my dustbin (the signature of where I have been) placed it outside my door and I was out of there!

In record time I was back in my bed, keeping warm and dreaming of my next adventure.

But, contrary to popular belief super heroes do forget. I woke up this morning and could not remember even being disturbed. I remain true to form. A Fire Drill Super Hero. My duty is so second nature that I do not remember it at all...

One, two, three Blog myself!

By Lauren Roodt

I'm not sure if you remember that game we used to
play as kids called base or usually "1, 2, 3 block". We used to sneak around stealthily trying to get close to the target, shouting "1, 2, 3 BLOCK MYSELF!" when we managed to sneak up behind who ever was 'on' without getting caught. I have a feeling that as a kid I put a few alterations onto the game. Who ever was on (let's call him the detective) wasn't allowed to move from a certain specified point and was only allowed to take two steps away from the said area. There were designated areas in which we could hide (bases.If the detective caught/spotted someone at the first base (usually the biggest hide-out therefore easier to hide in) he was rewarded by being allowed to take an extra three steps away from his post. This made the game that much more exciting because it increased our chances of being spotted.

This blogging assignment has a familiarity to my childhood game. The recent offer of an extra percentage for every ten blogs we write is as exciting as the offer of three extra steps. It is difficult to reach, like spotting someone in first base, but oh so tempting! It does come with its hazards however; our writing still has to be sharp and relevant just, like our moves from base to base.

Writing on a blog is not as easy as it seems. It is intimidating and takes courage to put your words out there for public interrogation. So bare with me, I'm just a kid playing her favourite game. It takes a while to learn the best routes...

PS I'm the kid in the blue jersey. People say I look exactly the same now.

Growing Pains

by Lauren Roodt
While being a responsible blogger by checking up on my peers blogs I found a letter written by Cimone which struck home (hard).

Cimone wrote in her letter exactly what I wished to write in mine but couldn’t find the words. I am pretty sure my parents know that I followed my ex-boyfriend to Rhodes. I thought I had convinced them that if I was going to do Journalism I wanted to go to the best Journalism school in SA, but like Cimone says- parents aren’t gullible. Rhodes has been a hellish night-mare because of him but also I wouldn’t have made it without him. He is my best friend (ironically). I am also highly strung like Cimone and I too am finding ways to settle down. I took this focus in my letter (see below) where I reminisced about the way I used to be liberated like a child. Cimone's story hit home, right on target and settled my worry that these growing pains only happened to me.

Smells of Summer

by Lauren Roodt
Ahhhh! The smell of sun block. It's powerful enough to overcome the stench of stress which seems to be plonked under my nose at the moment. I’m one of those people who stress about everything - my next assignment, test, and essay, what I said to the guy in The Rat the other night - everything! I feel as if I am constantly being dunked by waves, struggling to get out of the pounding load that is my work. But when I walked out into the sunshine today armoured up in my bikini (which I am proud to say reflects no sign of the 'first year spread') and wielding my book and block, the pungent smell of stress seemed to evaporate as fast as the water out of my juice bottle.

Summer is the blessing I have been waiting for! The winter’s in this little town seem to last just as long as the hangovers you wake up with. The tingle of the redness on your shoulders and the sting of the cool water on your pale exposed skin (not for long) go miles to relieving all worries. A full day of sunshine with no academic material should be compulsory for all university students. This is living the life!

The Great Journey

Naive Fool,

Do you remember the day you decided to come to Rhodes and start studying to become a Politician and/or Journalist? Can you remember the feeling of elation and trepidation you got when you thought of being “free” from the bonds of parents and school, and finally making it in the world? The life you thought would be easier and more care-free is in reality the one that would push you to the brink of insanity.
Let me tell you, with all the wisdom acquired in hind-sight, you are in for a trial that will shake the very foundations of your life. You will be uprooted from the comfort of your family, pulled out from the midst of your friends, booted to the other side of the country and buried under a mountain of work that makes your matric seem like the easiest task in your life.
Shame, poor you, you still have to toil away and break through the metaphorical igneous rock that is education, whereas I have made it half-way through. Common sense would dictate that it will be all for the “greater good”, but common is not me, personally (and I know you will feel the same way, eventually) I think that there are other ways of viewing the world that make life a lot more interesting. That would put us in quite a paradoxical situation, because if common sense would have you go to Rhodes and study to become a proactive, sane member of society, and I, having done that, seem to be neither proactive or sane after having followed the “commonsense” route, would inadvertently make the norm insanity and otherwise not governed by commonsense, which seems quite contradictory to me.
I think this proves the theory that no matter how one might change the past, the future will always have the same outcome. Thus, my younger, innocent, naive, foolish self, enjoy your sanity while you still can because your destiny to become a ruler of the planet is inevitable. I know you will get this. It’s just some food for thought.

Till we speak again…
Your loving, insane future self.

Mature Adult? No Thanks!

Spring 2008

To the girl who never knew,

You have been on my mind a lot over the past few weeks. I’m generally not the type to worry, but lately you seem to be...secluded ...I know that you are busy at university but that is no reason to desert me. I feel as if you have been blasted into another realm – too far from the Land of Lauren.You have always been one to take your life seriously (especially your academic work) but you also always live by the motto – “Mature adult? No thanks!”. Do you remember the day we came home covered in a burning rash because we had been rolling down the grass banks by the river on the farm? Mom told us, in one of those “bad day at work” tones, to grow up and go do the laundry. We did the laundry but only after playing hide and seek in it for a while. I cannot believe that was only a year ago. How embarrassing I hear you say. Stop it! This year has taken something out of you and I want you to put it back!

I haven’t forgotten everything that you have gone through this year which might have made you a bit cautious in life. I’ve walked the thorns with you, remember? Mom still worries that you followed Stefan to Rhodes. She is probably right but that’s not what troubles me. You have lost the childlike freedom from your inhibitions. Now you worry about paying for next year’s fees and whether or not you are doing the right course and about what you are going to do when you are big. You have stopped imagining your endless possibilities like a child and instead have begun to focus on life’s mundane woes. Be careful.

I am warning you because the same thing happened to me. While my friends were out licking ice-cream off their noses I usually chose to stay back and work. This made me miserable. All work and no play, makes Jack a dull (and highly strung) boy. Without noticing it I got caught up in the responsible life and neglected the part that was telling me to slow down and stop stressing about the little things. I was disjointed and w as like a time bomb waiting to explode. I had let the intensity of university get to me.

Whether its love, hate, disappointment or success it’s all part of our life cycle but when we let it dictate our lives it becomes dangerous. When you arrive at university throw yourself into every opening that you can find. Be a child. Explore unknown territories, climb over jungle gyms of challenges and see how high your swing will go. Investigate everything you find and learn from your findings. It is the only way.

Take this warning my dear friend. I do not want you to be the girl who never knew that university would make her grow up too fast.

Eternal hugs, kisses and loving cautions.

Lauren

Dragonball Z

I have no idea why people every enjoyed DragonBall Z, it was such a pointless show, that repeated itself over and over again, watching the same people fight, completely pointless!... but anyway, I thought it might be nice for those of you who feel the same way to get this great summary of the entire series of DBZ. Its got all the good stuff in it and might enlighten those who are still foolish enough to like it!

Stars are lining up!

Even though this blog was created for you, the students of Rhodes, celebrities are obviously visiting us! Rihanna's new song "Disturbia" was, and all the MasterMinds agree, inspired by this site (dont quote us on this, but our reliable sources have provided this information... cough, couch...)! So to Celebrate we are posting the Music Video right here!

Rhodes Military Initiation Process

Have any of you every wondered what happens to you after you get excluded? This is not something anyone should take likely! Rhodes has a secret army, ready to wage war... and do you know how they get soldiers? We have the answers right here. What you are about to see is highly classified information:

Some Good Advice From Foamy

Why is it that we always have to be ripped off by government? Why do we allow them to take our taxes and give it to these freshly graduated "experts" to run stupid experiments to tell us the obvious? Now I know you are probably going to say that it is due to the fact that all politicians have less creativity than amoeba on Saturn, and that may be true in most cases, but to be honest, the politicians who are actually martians in disguise are quite intelligent and diabolical. However, I found the perfect character, one of my closest friends actually who can provide even more insight into the matter... Everyone, wave your appendages in salute to FOAMY!

Zombies run the journ department!

Due to current radiation levels on campus, frequent siting of zombies at the Media Matrix has been reported.
The mastermind behind all this is non other than... well I'm not really at liberty to say, but I can tell you that it is a man. However, this seemingly happy man was kidnapped by aliens ten years ago and now is running their separate agenda to slowly put a vending machine in each common room.
Fellow Students, Unite against the terror that is filling our common rooms! First the common rooms,then the dining halls... it is madness!