Hottie overload

Come on, be honest now: how many times have you walked into Friars, looked around and thought Holy crap there are a lot of hot guys at Rhodes! ? And how often have you walked in and thought Holy crap the world is spinning...I need a bar counter to hold on to. More the latter than the former? I thought so. :P
Yes, this post is aimed at girls (and gay guys of course), so all you straight guys who were hoping for something pertaining to you...I'm sorry to disappoint. Seeing as you're here, you may as well keep reading though. I'm full of compliments tonight :)

While walking between lectures today, I was suddenly struck by how many above-average looking guys there are at Rhodes. Now I tend to be fussy when it comes to boys (OK OK I mean for proper relationships, not hookups. Don't laugh at me) but even I can see that there's something for everyone here. Take Philosophy Boy, for example (my friends know who he is). Tall, skinny, black emo hairstyle, huge dark eyes and breath-taking intelligence. What's not to love? Or French Boy: blonde, tanned, wears boardshorts and surf-designer hoodies (I really must introduce him to my sister). Then there are the serious intellectuals, with long hair and glasses and collared shirts with the top button undone. The jocks/Smuts boys, wearing backward caps (I can't believe that's still in fashion) and wife-beater vests to show off their biceps. The 'cuddly nice guys' with big smiles and friendly hugs that make you feel fuzzy inside (and outside, depending on when they last shaved). The socially awkward ones who smile nervously and run their hands over their hair when they're tongue-tied. The bikers, wearing their aviator sunglasses and carrying helmets under their arms...the list goes on.

Is there a point to this post? Not really. But I enjoy people-watching and I find the different types of guys so fascinating to study. And it also fascinates me that before today, I had never truly appreciated how many - and how many different types of - good-looking boys there are at Rhodes. So here's a shoutout to all the Rhodes boys: whatever you're doing, keep doing it because it's working :D

Some obscure band you've never heard of

OK I understand that I'm not always on top form with the latest trends. I'm not into local fashion or local movies, I rarely watch the news and I don't read those trashy gossip magazines that tell you which singer is sleeping with which movie star. But when it comes to music, I always thought I was pretty clued-up. Until I hit university, of course.

Suddenly I'm hearing all these odd band names that I've never heard of before...and yet everyone else seems to know exactly who the band is! More than that, everyone knows their latest album, the lyrics to all their songs, when the band began, where the lead singer got married and all those pointless facts that only really come in handy when playing Trivial Pursuit. And here I sit, quietly blushing in my corner, unwilling to admit that I'd never heard of Liquid Deep before university. Or Zebra and Giraffe. Or even Goldfish (that one I am particularly embarrassed about). And once I'd heard their music, I didn't understand what all the fuss was about. I mean sure, each band has one or two good songs (examples are Oxymoron by Zebra and Giraffe, or whatever Goldfish song it was that my brother played on his phone for me) but why do people get so excited about these bands? Is it just because they're local? Or because they're playing live at Rhodes?

I have a strong suspicion that most of the Rhodents don't actually know these bands. But when posters start to go up around campus, students rush home to search Wikipedia for the latest 'facts', download the latest album and memorise the lyrics so that they can appear as cool as their friends. I can even go so far as to extend this theory and say: Rhodes is full of undercover hipsters. What is a hipster, you ask? Hah! I may not know who these bands are, but at least I know what a hipster is :P seriously though, a hipster is usually someone who likes to 'break away from the commercial trends' and listen to strange, local and unknown bands with names like Kill All Nerds and The Bittersweet Yetis (yes I made those up. But I kid you not, I have heard stranger band names). In fact, a good way to explain hipster-dom is through a joke...

Q: How many hipsters does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
A: It's an obscure number. You've probably never heard of it.

Gettit?
So you might be asking why I am posting such a rant today. Well, apparently the Union (see Rhodent Slang) is hosting a performance by Plush. I've seen numerous Rhodes students posting excited statuses about how Plush is playing here, and how excited they are. My first thought was: who the eff is Plush? Naturally I rushed to Wikipedia and downloaded their album.
OK no, I didn't. I looked it up on Wikipedia for the sake of this post, but it was too much effort to try to download their music. My point IS, Plush is not quite as obscure as some of the other bands that have passed through the hallowed halls of Rhodes campus, and is thus a band I will have to add to the list of "Things I was embarrassed about not knowing". Not that I'm going to buy a ticket to go and watch them, of course. I have no doubt that they'll be very good. But I'm quite content to plod happily along through my playlists of MCR, the Beatles, Nickelback (yes! I listen to them! Deal with it), Jason Mraz, New Found Glory, Secondhand Serenade and numerous other commercial bands frequently played on the radio. I pride myself on not conforming to the non-conformist ways of the hipster! I am a non-conformist by not conforming to the non-conformists! Thus I am a conformist to the world and a non-conformist to the typical ways of Rhodes!
Confused? Yeah, me too.

Labrador Love

Today I saw two gay Labradors getting it on in the quad. I have officially seen everything this university can throw at me.

No, seriously. There were these two adorable Labradors sitting in one of the quads as I walked out of a lecture. Myself and another girl stopped to pet them; I can't help it, I'm an animal person. As soon as we walked away, the golden Labrador started violently...ahem...well, you get the picture. "Mating" is too gentle a word. And they were both males! A homosexual friend was walking a little way in front of me, and on seeing this I heard him say "Now even the dogs are turning gay!" It cracked me up :D I do believe we may have discovered the new mascot for the OutRhodes society! (OutRhodes is the gay/lesbian/bisexual/transsexual society at Rhodes). Sorry, mascots. The two Labradors are kind of a cute couple, it would be a shame to split them up. Besides, gay couples are generally adorable. And a gay Labrador couple? SQUEEEEE!

On a completely different note, I was told last weekend that I had "calmed down a lot since last year". Say what? I'm offended! OK sure I haven't exactly been painting the town red this year, but I've had a lot of work! Like next week, for example, I have three tests and one assignment due. Two of those tests are for my majors. So going out tonight (Friday) would probably be a very bad idea.
On the other hand, I've been told that one of the guys' residences is having a party tonight with free punch. FREE PUNCH. Free alcohol is rare in a student town, and I am as broke as a very broke thing (to paraphrase Blackadder), so it is a very tempting offer. Plus term ends next weekend and as I'm driving home on Saturday I won't be able to drink on Friday night (travelling long distances + hangover = bad idea).

First year Tayla wouldn't have thought twice about it. Second year Tayla, however, is more mature and hardworking and knows that she won't be able to study tomorrow if she's hungover. She also knows that she has a test on Monday and that going out tonight is a bad idea.
So...
Who's up for an epic mare tonight? :D

Pet peeves

I'm having a bad day and need to rant. Deal with it.
Here follows a list of things that drive me mad. Note that this is not a complete list.

• People who steal your laundry slot
• Lecturers who make assignments due on the same week that you have three tests
• People who take up the entire corridor but walk really slowly.
• People who walk really slowly in the rain. With umbrellas.
• People who miss lectures and then think they're being clever by asking questions about work that was covered in the lectures they missed.
• Being told that my subjects are pointless.
• Being told that BA subjects are easy.
• Being told that BA kids aren't as clever as BSc or BCom kids.
• Being treated like an idiot.
• Being patronised by people when I know that I know more about the topic than they do.
• Just generally being patronised.
• People expecting me to set up DC for them (it is not my responsibility)
• People blaming me when the internet goes down in res (I don't mind being asked why. Just don't expect me to make it all better).
• People who only talk about themselves (yes I do see the irony, considering this blog post).
• Girls who wear clothes that are far too small/tight for their size (and I'm not only talking about chubby girls).
• Being told that I only do well because my subjects are easy.
• Being told that Philosophy is a bullsh*t subject (THIS is probably the worst one).

More to come the next time I have a bad day.

The wonders of grass

I know what you're thinking. Finally, she's going to post something about weed! Sorry, not that kind of grass :P I'm a good girl. Well, relatively good anyway. I don't smoke weed, put it that way. So since I'm not really experienced enough to write a long dissertion on the finer points of drugs, I'm going to talk about grass in the sense of the green stuff that you sit on. The stuff cows eat. The stuff that makes up the many beautiful lawns at Rhodes.

By now the Rhodents among you would have realised where I am going with this. To you - and to other readers - I pose this question: why on earth are Rhodes students so attached to grass?? It's as if the moment the sun comes out, Rhodents feel the need to sit down on the nearest patch of grass they can find and, more often than not, fall asleep. It baffles me. Walking between lectures today, I didn't see a single empty patch of grass. There were students studying up near the bicycles, chattering in groups around the fountain quad, and a scarily high number of them dozing on Drostdy lawns. I remember one occasion last year when I came out of the law department, and spotted a random guy fast asleep on the lawns next to the chapel. Not under a tree or with a group of friends; he was stretched out all by himself in the middle of nowhere, his bag tucked under his head like a pillow.

Now I've developed a couple of theories as to why Rhodents do this. The first theory is that our distant, less-evolved ancestors saw grass as a comfortable resting spot, and thus the simple green beauty of the Rhodes lawns awakens an evolutionary desire in us to relax.
The second theory is that at some point in the distant past, a group of 'cool' people had a day-mare (read: got drunk during the day) and passed out on the grass. Seeing them and assuming they were sleeping, the first years were socially pressured into believing that this was the cool thing to do, and so the trend began.
The third - and most likely theory - is that Rhodes students spend so many late nights either studying, working on assignments or partying that they simply cannot stay awake for a full day. Rather than returning to their residences (especially those on the hill) they simply crash on the nearest comfortable spot: the grass.

Now I am not one to judge the students who do this; I know for a fact that I've dozed off on Drostdy lawns by myself before (I was reading Hamlet. Can you blame me?). I just find it awesome that the right to equality even extends to the grass at Rhodes: no patch must be left out! So if you see a lonely patch of grass, don't let the poor thing feel unloved and unwanted. Do the right thing.
Sit on it.

[Insert Stephen King reference here]

First off, apologies for the overly-emo post yesterday. I would have deleted it this morning, except that I'm a bit of a hoarder and even deleting an online post is a difficult task for me to overcome :P on the bright side, you'll be pleased to know that the friend in my last post and I have resolved our differences (well, kind of) and are once more friends. After all, what is friendship without the occasional conflict?

On to today's post.
I couldn't think of a witty quote from Stephen King, hence the generic title. Last night I took a late-night stroll around campus with a friend, and this experience re-enforced my beliefs that Grahamstown is exactly like a town from a Stephen King novel (hereafter referred to as SK because typing out Stephen King every time is such a mission. Plus I keep spelling it wrong). It was a chilly night and a thin mist had come down over campus. As we passed the bot gardens we stopped for a moment to admire the view. A path lead away from us into the dark mistiness, and in the distance we could the faintest light of a single street lamp. We agreed that it would have been the perfect moment for a supernatural creature to come sweeping down and eat one of us. Preferably him, because it would be such a wonderful role reversal: the princess having to save the prince for a change :P.

It was also surprising to see how many people are actually up and about on campus at 2am on a Monday morning. We passed quite a large number of people sitting on walls talking, or wandering along the pavement like we were. Even more surprising is that they weren't drunken revellers returning from a party; they were all (OK mostly) perfectly sober, and clearly just enjoying each other's company in the spooky, misty night. While such beautiful settings normally lead to intense philosophical conversations, I must admit that the conversation between myself and my friend was slightly less profound than usual. We discussed relationships, comedians, bad jokes, relationships, child molestation, Michael Jackson (who we agreed may not have been a paedophile but rather psychologically a child, and so saw nothing wrong with getting into bed with 'other' children), relationships, academic snobbery...did I mention relationships? We're both single so that topic tends to come up a lot.

All in all, it was worth staying up until 2am for such interesting conversation. Earlier in the evening we had been in another friend's res room, playing boardgames like Balderdash and 30 Seconds. While Balderdash is clearly not my strong point, I remain unbeaten at 30 Seconds. This could be due to my partner during the game, who thinks in much the same way I do. Whatever the reason, we kicked ass and I will go so far as to say that we are unbeatable.
Challenges are welcome...

Flames to dust

When I first arrived at university last year, I promised myself that nothing would change. I promised that I would continue to be as diligent and hardworking as I had been in matric; I promised I would never get drunk; I promised my boyfriend and I would stay together and I promised that I would keep in touch with all of my highschool friends. And now today, for the first time, I've realised how much has changed and how far I've gone from who and what I was in matric. What's more, I don't think it's been a good change.

My diligent, good-girl nature is long gone, along with my promise to never get drunk. Sure I still attend 99% of my lectures, I never miss a tut and my work is always in on time. But it's not the same as the studious person I used to be; my spare time is spend with friends or on Facebook rather than on my work. On Fridays I go out, get tipsy (if not drunk) and meet random new people rather than spending the evening watching movies and drinking tea with friends.

As most of you may know, in matric I was dating a guy who I stayed with for 22 months (2 and a half years if you count the first time we dated in Grade 10). The day before I left for university I cried for hours because I knew I wouldn't see him for eight weeks. And somehow I ended up cheating on him and breaking his heart. It's not something I'm proud of, and it's something I will never forgive myself for.

Then there are my friends, who are the main point of this post. In highschool I had four close friends (not counting the one who moved to East London because we still talk on an almost regular basis). One went to UCT, one to study in Durban. Other than the occasional Facebook message, I haven't heard from either of them. Another friend came to university with me last year, and so we'd often see each other in class. This year she also went to Durban to study, and we've barely spoken. The last friend was supposedly my best friend. I was there for him through some tough times in matric, and he was there for me when my boyfriend and I broke up. Despite being in different provinces last year, we kept in touch and always made plans to see each other in vac. This year I finally convinced him to come to varsity with me. And apparently it's changed him as much as it changed me.

I tried. I really did. He told me he was hurt that I never came to visit him and that our friendship obviously didn't mean much to me. How can I visit him if he never invites me over? He said I didn't need to be invited. So how can I arrange to visit him if he ignores my smses and Facebook messages? He said I only get hold of him when I need something. The only time I asked him for something was when I was looking for a lift home in the vac. I asked him as a last resort, after I'd asked everyone else. And five days before I asked him, I'd suggested that we hang out sometime, but he never got back to me. He told me he didn't need to make any more excuses about being irritated, and that if I didn't want to be friends anymore then he'd see me around.

If this friendship had really meant something to him, he wouldn't be so blasé about ending it, especially over something so relatively trivial. And in my opinion, he would have made more of an effort to save it. But fine. I can't force you to be friends with me if you don't want to. Ignore me now, but when you decide you need me...you can go to hell.
I suppose even Will and Grace were destined to come to an end evetually. :(

Top o' the morning to ya!

Shamrocks and red hair, pots of gold and rainbows...on Thursday night it felt as if someone had dropped an elephant-sized can of Irish spirit on campus. St Patrick's day: the day that bartenders love most.

Allow me to slip into lecturer-mode for a moment and share a little detail about who St Patrick was and why we celebrate this day. According to that wonderful website known as Wikipedia, St Patrick was the patron saint of Ireland and - to the best of my knowledge - a Roman Catholic. There are many legends around St Patrick, such as the legend of him chasing snakes out of Ireland or the way in which he used a shamrock (normal three-leafed clover) to help illustrate the concept of the Divine Trinity: God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit. As I can't be bothered to type out endless pages about his life and teachings, go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Patrick#St._Patrick_banishes_snakes_from_Ireland if you'd like to learn more. Or use Google. It's a wonderful tool.

So why do we celebrate St Paddy's day with wild partying and drinking? No idea. One would assume it's because the Irish are infamous for their drinking skills, and St Paddy's day has become more a celebration of Irish culture than anything else (well, here in Gtown anyway). If the wisdom of Wikipedia is to be trusted - which it usually isn't - Lenten restrictions on eating and drinking alcohol were removed during St Paddy's day and hence the Irish would celebrate with gay abandon. If only I'd known that on the day! I've given up sweets for Lent...and if Lenten restrictions were lifted...dammit.

Naturally my friends and I all donned our greenest outfits, covered ourselves in neon green stickers and ribbons, and hit the streets with bottles of cane and Cream Soda in search of a party. Everywhere we looked we found students covered in green paint and stick-on shamrocks, loudly proclaiming how awesome the Irish were. Personally, I had no choice but to celebrate; I'm half-Irish (on my mother's side) and a full Irish citizen. According to my passport, anyway. On these grounds, I decided I was morally obligated to have a serious Irish mare. Which I did.
At least, I think I did. Some of the details are a bit hazy...

The next morning I wandered sleepily into my tutorial, clutching a can of Coke and trying to remind myself to stay awake. As soon as I sat down at the table, one of my fellow tut-people glanced over at me, at my Coke, then casually asked "Hangover?"
Was it that obvious?

And now, especially for your entertainment, I have gathered a selection of Irish quotes that I particularly enjoy. Hope you do too!

"There are two types of people in this world: the Irish, and those who wish they were."

"God invented beer to stop the Irish from taking over the world."

"Here's to our wives and girlfriends: may they never meet!" - Irish drinking toast.

"Drink is the curse of the land. It makes you fight with your neighbor. It makes you shoot at your landlord and it makes you miss him." - Irish proverb

"When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we fall asleep. When we fall asleep, we commit no sin. When we commit no sin, we go to Heaven. So, let's all get drunk and go to heaven."

"St. Patrick -- one of the few saints whose feast day presents the opportunity to get determinedly whacked and make a fool of oneself all under the guise of acting Irish."

"There are many good reasons for drinking,
One has just entered my head.
If a man doesn't drink when he's living,
How in the hell can he drink when he's dead?"

Here's hoping you all had an epic St Paddy's day! Slainte! (Translation: cheers!)

The Cult of Blackberries

Steven Spielberg (and his ridiculously difficult-to-spell surname) had better watch out; not even Titanic could match up to the blockbuster I've been planning. OK so it's not exactly a romantic drama...more like one of those creepy horror movies that involve a tall, thin man with weird eyes and a houseful of screams and dark secrets. Intrigued? Read on...

Set in a university in a small town in the middle of nowhere, our story begins towards the end of 2010. The opening scene depicts two female students walking together to lunch.

Girl 1: "Happy birthday! I can't believe you're nineteen already. Did your parents spoil you?"
Girl 2: "Not yet, but my mom's promised me a Blackberry as soon as I get home."
Girl 1: "A Blackberry? Really? I've never seen the point of those phones."
Girl 2: "Haven't you heard of BBM??"

(At this point we shall cut to a scene four months later, of a campus full of students wandering around with their noses glued to their cellphone screens. In the background, the creator of the Blackberry laughs maniacally).

Personally, I think it'll be a hit. It has all the makings of a horror movie: a shadowy bad guy, a massive cult and lots of young, beautiful people that are likely to have sex at any moment (provided, of course, they can put their phones down for long enough to do it). Just watch. I'll be raking in millions.

Seriously though, this Blackberry phenomenon truly has me stumped. A couple of years ago those cellphones were marketed specifically towards businessmen and were designed to work in a similar way to a PDA with the added advantage of being able to make calls. In fact, most of the advertisements I've seen around are still aimed at people in the business world. So what is with the sudden Blackberry fad among students? Last year, only one of my friends had a Blackberry. I return this year to find them all madly swapping BBM pins and spending their spare time checking to see if anyone has emailed them since they last looked at their inbox five minutes ago. Today one of my friends took her Blackberry out to check her emails during lunch; she became so engrossed in it that she didn't even notice me leaving the table. Most Blackberry owners are rarely seen without their cellphone pinned to their hand or ear, and the faintest suggestion of leaving home without it sends them into a cold sweat. Maybe I'm weird, but I don't understand the addiction.

As you've probably guessed by now, I don't have a Blackberry. There are a few potential reasons for this:
1) I can't afford one (probably true, except that my mom offered to buy me a new cellphone for Christmas and a Blackberry was one of the options).
2) I'm trying to be a non-comformist (potentially true, except that I refuse to conform because I don't see the point).
3) I don't want people to be continuously sending me random BBM messages (definitely true).

But the one defining reason why I will most likely never own a Blackberry is far simpler than most people think. That reason is...
(deep breath)
I don't like the keyboard.
No, I'm not joking. I really, strongly dislike those ridiculously big QWERTY keyboards that Blackberries all come equipped with. Trying to poke buttons the size of a pinhead is something I don't particularly want to have to do, and I'm quite happy with typing out messages on a normal cellphone keypad. I will admit that I also dislike how big Blackberries are - my own touchscreen Samsung is so small and sleek and beautiful. I know you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but in short I think Blackberries are ugly. There, I said it and I'm not going to take it back.
Now to hit the 'Publish Post' button and wait for the mob and their burning torches to arrive.

Street child...yummy.

Ah res food; the bane of my existence. For the longest time I truly didn't understand the concept of first year spread because hey, who could seriously get fat on food like this? But then in June last year it hit me! (Both the spread AND the answer). And now I am here to share my wisdom with you. As per usual.

Firstly, I believe a definition is needed. First year spread refers to the weight gain that 90% of students experience in their first year of varsity. The usual explanation for this is that one's parents are no longer around to keep an eye on what food is consumed, and so first year students begin to eat unhealthily and end up fat. Now, I won't deny that this is true for some people.
BUT
I would like to propose an alternative theory.

When asked what her favourite meal in the dining hall was, one of my res mates glumly replied "Toast." This echoes the beliefs of a number of my friends, who despise dining hall food and insist that eating it will kill them. Personally, I don't see what all the fuss is about. Most of the meals are edible; some are even quite enjoyable! I think that perhaps the hype about university food being bad has an effect on the beliefs of first years, and they become afraid to admit that hey, the food isn't actually that bad. (OK except the braised steak meal. The general conspiracy theory is that it isn't steak, it's actually street child. Morbid, yes. But believe me, it doesn't look anything like steak).

Anyhoo. I digress once more. My point is that first years either truly dislike the food at varsity OR pretend to in order to 'fit in' with the others. Because of this, they start to avoid the occasionally-dodgy-looking healthy meals and order fast food meals like pizzas and chicken burgers. Sometimes they take it a step further and eat only peanutbutter toast and take-away like KFC and Steers. As we all know, too much unhealthy food inevitably leads to weight gain. And Bob's your uncle, first years get fat. Simple.

And I will admit that first year spread did indeed hit me last year. In the first term I lost a lot of weight because when I received a meal I didn't like, I just didn't eat it. Towards the end of the second year I began to order the nicer fast-food meals and to keep food in my res room. Before I knew it, I was rapidly gaining an uncomfortable layer of chubbiness around my waist. As soon as third term hit I removed all fast-food from my menu and began running. While my running regime has now become rather intermittent and I do allow myself one fast-food meal a week, at least I am no longer as roly-poly as I was in winter last year.

'Skinny' is something I shall never achieve (you see, I was born with these horrible things called 'hips'...) but I can at least aim for curviness rather than wobbliness. And so every evening I amp myself up for a brief twenty minute run around campus. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes I end up sitting in front of my PC eating crackers and Melrose instead (OK so the Melrose is something new I only started this week), but that's OK. We can't all be athletic superstars. I was born to be a writer, and a writer I shall remain.
But if I can be a slightly toned writer rather than one with a wobbly middle, that would be nice. :P

Smile and wave, boys.

Awkward greetings; how I hate them. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. When I'm walking up the stairs in res and see someone walking towards me, I can't help but feel the faintest flutter of panic.
I don't know you, I think. How long have you been living here? What's your name? Am I supposed to say hi?
Inevitably this leads to a brief uncomfortable smile, and perhaps a mumbled "Hey", leaving both of us free to  pat ourselves on the back for being friendly to a stranger. But I sometimes wonder whether there shouldn't be some kind of protocol in place for certain awkward social encounters. Like passing someone you don't really know in res. Or passing someone from your res in a lecture theatre. Seeing as no one else seemed clued-up on the subject, I decided to create my own guidelines on how to handle such situations.

The Awkward Etiquette (it's a working title)
Someone in res
If you pass someone in your res who you don't know very well, a smile is usually an acceptable form of greeting. If you're feeling friendly and want to say hi, make sure it's audible or else the other person may not respond. Then you will walk away feeling rejected while she is thinking "Did she say something? Was I being rude?" Unnecessary discomfort all around.
If you are in the process of getting to know the person - such as a new first year in the res, or someone you're on house comm with - saying "How are you?" is also acceptable. Even if the person doesn't return the question but simply replies "Fine", you can console yourself that at least they didn't ignore you.
If the person is a friend, it is almost mandatory to begin a gossip-session in the middle of the corridor. Be warned: pasing res-mates may join in the conversation too until there are at least six of you sitting on the carpet in the middle of the corridor. Trust me. It isn't as rare as you'd think.

Someone from your res in a lecture
The above rules apply. Except the sitting-on-the-carpet part. Lecturers tend to get upset if you sit on the floor and begin a long conversation with a friend in the middle of the period.

Someone you met in Friars
This is a tricky one. There is a 50% chance that the person does not remember meeting you, while another 25% chance that the person recognises you but doesn't know where from. If he/she glances at you a couple of times while approaching, you can assume that they vaguely recognise you. In this scenario, it's probably safe to smile. If the person approaches you smiling, you can say "Hey" without feeling awkward. If the person glances at you once then looks away, either they don't recognise you or they want to pretend that they don't. Either way, pretend they don't exist. It'll make you feel better for being forgotten.

A friend of a friend
If you've only met the person once, the rules for Friars meetings apply. If you have met the person numerous times, it is safe to ask how they are and perhaps how their lectures are going or something equally neutral.

Someone you hooked up with last weekend
The chances of him/her not recognising you are probably not very high, considering that he/she was probably attached to your lips for most of Friday night. If the person doesn't look at you, accept that they are not interested. Ignore them and move on. If the person glances up, smiles and says hi, consider it as a sign of friendliness but not necessarily as a sign of the encounter being more than a hookup. Only if the person stops for a conversation can you assume that they may be interested in something more than a random kiss on Friars dancefloor. And if they invite you out for coffee...it means nothing unless you set a date and a time. I've experienced THIS one way more than I like to admit to.

The toaster
Personally, I find this to be the most awkward possible encounter. You're standing at the toaster, waiting patiently for your daily dose of carbon, when someone else comes up and slips their slice of bread in. You silently pray that he/she will return to their table...but no! Instead they hover next to you, clearly keen to closely watch their food as you are doing. If it's someone you know, then this usually isn't a problem. However, if it is someone who you've never really met, the awkward turtle appears.
At this point, you have one of two choices. First, you can pretend that he/she doesn't exist and let the silence linger uncomfortably until the tension gets to be too much and you grab your underdone slice from the toaster.
OR
You can pass some weakly witty comments about how terrible the toaster is, how it always burns one side of the toast but doesn't cook the other, how the toast is going to go straight to your thighs etc (OK maybe leave the last one out if you're talking to someone large. They may think you're poking fun at them). Unfortunately this doesn't really relieve the awkwardness of the situation and your attempt at wittiness may be met with a polite half-smile, a vague "So true..." or a returned attempt at joking. There is no remedy for toaster-awkwardness. The most you can do is bear the awkwardness until your toast is finally cooked to your liking, then give them a parting smile and speed-walk back to the social safety of your seat.

Sadly the amount of work I had to do this weekend has turned my brain to porridge and so I can't think of any other witty - and awkward - situations to add to The Awkward Etiquette. As soon as I'm feeling more like my usual amusing self, I shall begin work The Awkward Etiquette v2. Until then, consider taking a book with you to the toaster. Rude, yes. Awkward, not at all. Problem solved.

Late-night, slightly tipsy thoughts

My general mantra in life has always been something along the lines of Boys are stupid. Throw rocks at them (thank you, David and Goliath). Tonight that belief would have been forever cemented in my mind were it not for one particular boy who showed me that there are still decent guys in this world.

My friends and I had decided on the spur of the moment to have a night out, despite the masses of work piling up on our desks. We arrived at the local hotspot Friars, had a few drinks and hit the dancefloor. Now usually my nights out lead to at least one hookup, be it a random lunge from a friend or a more promising kiss from a prospective future boyfriend. Tonight, in short, was a fail.

The failure began when the guy I'd last hooked up with walked past me and didn't even glance my way, forget taking the time to say hello. He eventually mumbled a greeting to me later in the night, but only when the friend I was following literally walked into him (and not on purpose. She had no idea who he was. Or how awkward it was for me). I mean sure, if you don't want to hook up with me that's not a big deal in my life. But don't mutter hello while gazing pointedly over my head as if I'm an annoying two-year-old. They're called 'manners', learn how to use them.

The failure worsened when the guy I've been trying to hook my friend up with - dropping general hints, dragging them places together and doing everything except locking them alone in a closet - decided to fade early and abandoned us. Idiot.

My night was clearly on its way downhill. A guy I had an on-off romance with last year kept looking at me strangely and laughing. One I'd had a brief scene with earlier this year completely ignored my existence and walked past me several times. The younger guy I had spent most of o-week with stopped to chat but didn't bother to explain why he had simply stopped talking to me a few weeks before. Morale was at an all-time low, and the sweaty, stuffy heat of the dancefloor wasn't helping. I headed out into the bar to cool off and feel sorry for myself.

And then, out of the blue, a guy appeared. Now I suppose you could say I have a lot of history with him...we hooked up a few times last year, and had a romance this year that ended badly. I'd rather not go into exact details, but whatever the reason, we hadn't spoken since. He asked if I was all right, then - to my surprise - made a sincere apology about what had happened between us and asked if we could still be friends. For some reason, this simple act made me smile. It meant a lot to patch things up with him, and it reminded me that not all guys are jerk-asshole-douchbags.

If you're reading this, I hope you know who you are. And I want to say I'm sorry too, for everything that happened. For hooking up with the first year even though you told me you liked me. For being too scared to admit that I liked you too. For everything that happened during the awkward night in Friars that started this whole fight. And most of all I want to say sorry for treating one of the few decent guys I've met here so badly. I didn't mean to screw everything up, but I seem to do that a lot. I'm glad we can be friends again.

I guess I just wish things could have happened differently between us.

The Facebook Conundrum

Hi, I'm Tayla and I'm a Facebook addict. Yes, sadly it is true...I have been a Facebook addict ever since I came to varsity. Perhaps it is simply a form of procrastination, or perhaps I just don't have anything better to do with my spare time (test? What test?). Either way, I will admit that I spend more time online than I probably should.
But I am not writing this to complain about my addictive behaviour. Instead I am here to confront a conundrum that we have all faced at some point in our lives: to invite or not to invite?

I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. You met someone cute in a lecture a few days ago, and you've stopped for brief conversations every morning since. Or you've hooked up once or twice, and possibly woken up in their bed. Or you seem to be taking the exact same subjects, and often joke about it when you pass each other in lecture theatres. Or maybe it's the friend-of-a-friend whose name you've known for months even though you've only spoken once.

Then one day, out of the blue, that person's name pops up under the "Friends you may know" window on your Facebook home page. You find yourself instantly struck with indecision. Do you invite him/her? Would it be creepy? If they were in your position, would they invite you? Do you really want them to see those drunken photos of you from last Saturday? (Although if it's someone you've hooked up with, it's likely that he/she has already seen you in that particular drunken state). I'm here to tell you that I understand your pain. And even better, I'm here to help.

First of all, let's make a list of people you definitely should not invite no matter what the circumstances:

1. Lecturers. I don't care if they're friends with your parents or if 'she's hot for a forty-year-old!' You don't want them to know what you've been up to on the weekend.
2. The cute guy/girl that you always see in lectures but have never spoken to. They probably have no idea you exist. This is a FRIEND invitation. He/She is not your friend, despite those late-night wishes on shooting stars and the occasional aeroplane.
3. Your friend's crush IF you don't actually like him/her. You may inadvertently end up threatening to castrate them with a rusty spoon (trust me on this one. It happens).
4. Tutors IF you aren't actually friends with them in a social setting. No tutor wants to receive Facebook messages begging for help with this week's tut work. Rather email them.
5. People with the same name as you. You don't know them. Don't do it.
6. People with the same surname as you. Especially if your surname is "Smith" or something similarly common. The chances of you actually being related are slim (and I don't mean related as in "her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother and mine were sisters!". That doesn't really count). However, if your surname is Acadyhopsilon or something equally bizarre, you may as well go for it.

Now that we've established the ground rules, time to move on to things one should consider before inviting said person (particularly if said person is a long-term crush):

1. Scroll down your profile and check for anything you may not want the person to see. This can include embarrassing photos, socially unacceptable statuses, disturbing wallposts from your strange friends (such as where she threatens to 'put some part of [your tutor]'s body in her mouth' - don't ask) and any wallposts or statuses that refer to the person you want to invite.
2. Check how many friends the person has. If they have 800, they're more likely to accept your request. If they have less than 200, they're either new to Facebook OR they only accept close friends. In this case, consider the closeness of your relationship.
3. Check how many friends you have in common. At the same time, bear in mind that you should not invite someone you don't know just because you have 20 friends in common. That falls into the creepy category.

Once you have considered these factors, you can determine the likelihood of the person accepting your request and sparing you the humiliation of a friendship rejection. Personally, I rarely turn down friend requests (unless they come from random creepy Turkish men who tell me I look pretty in my profile picture). The base rule is only invite people you know. That way, you're less likely to fall prey to Internet paedophiles AND less likely to become known as 'that weird girl/guy that invites EVERYONE on Facebook'. Do you really think you have 800 friends in real life? Keep dreaming.

Finally, here's a brief list of people you could invite without incurring the 'creepy' label:

1. Anyone you were at school with two years or less before.
2. Anyone you were FRIENDS with at school at any point in life. But perhaps send them a message first to make sure they remember you.
3. Family members (whether you want to invite them or not is a different story entirely).
4. Someone you've hooked up with more than twice OR someone you've had naps with. If you've spent a night in his/her bed, I'm pretty sure they're willing to be friends. Unless he/she was ugly. Then just don't go there. And maybe block them just in case.
5. Your crush (that you HAVE actually spoken to). "But that's creepy!" you cry. "What if he/she rejects me? What if they don't want to be friends?" Protest all you want. You know you're going to do it eventually anyway.

Disclaimer: the above advice is followed entirely at your own risk. If you become branded with the 'creepy' label due to unwise invitation choices, don't blame me. And don't come after me. I have my rusty spoon. You have been warned.

Drowned Rhodents

Rain, rain, go away...

If there is one thing I hate more than anything else, it's soggy bedding. There's something so uncomfortable about sitting down on one's bed and realising that the duvet is - not soaking - but suspiciously damp. No, this isn't a post about bed-wetting (well, not in the sense you're thinking of anyway). This is me ranting about the annoying, can't-make-up-my-effing-mind, moody Grahamstown weather.

When I woke up this morning and peeped through my curtains, the sky looked suspiciously grey. Nonetheless, since this is Grahamstown, I decided to don a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Sure enough, by 10 o' clock the sky was bright blue and the air was beautifully warm. Birds sang, trees rustled their pretty leaves, and I half-expected to see Snow White dancing through the corridors with her forest friends. As the afternoon wore on, a few innocent clouds appeared. Being the skeptical person that I am, I had the forethought to grab an umbrella on my way to my society meeting. And Bob's your uncle, it started raining just as I had to walk home. Due to my infamous good luck (holds up sarcasm sign) it was too windy to use an umbrella without the damn thing turning itself inside out and so my friend and I scurried home in the downpour, trying to avoid being concussed by one of the abnormally large raindrops. I hurried into the dining hall, soggy but pleased to be under the shelter.

Where am I going with this? As one writer has said, "If you don't like the weather in Grahamstown, just wait a minute!" This is actually a terrifyingly accurate statement. When leaving for lectures, the prudent student (hey I made a rhyme) would venture out in shorts and a T-shirt, carrying sunblock, a sunhat, a hoodie, an umbrella, a pair of wellingtons and perhaps a snow shovel in their bag to prepare for the onslaught of seasonal changes that occur in Grahamstown in a single day. The above scenario is no different to any other day in this bizarre little town - one could be horrifically sunburnt and drenched in the same day. Possibly in the same hour.

I left the dining hall after half an hour, congratulating myself on having thought ahead to bring an umbrella. My inflated pride lasted all of ten minutes; apparently I forgot to close my bedroom window before leaving my room for the society meeting. Now not only am I soggy, but my bed is too. Ah well. If I want to sleep in any comfort tonight, there is only one solution...time to get out the hairdryer.

I am never drinking again

And this time I truly intend to stick to that.

Last night I experienced the wonders of a 'digs formal' for the first time. For those of you who do not know, a digs formal is basically a type of party held in the home of a group of students not living in res. It usually involves a lot of alcohol, some interesting games, and the unwritten rule that you have to score your date.

In this particular case, each of the members of the digs had to arrange a date for one of the others. It so happened that I have been hooking up with one of the guys in this digs (let's call him M) and the one who had to find a date for M (who we shall call T) is my sister's ex-boyfriend. Naturally this made it easy for T to decide to invite me as M's date.

Being a naturally shy person, I was absolutely terrified at the prospect of spending an evening in the company of 25 people I didn't know. In the end it turned out that I knew more of them than I had expected, and with the levels of drunken-ness going on, it didn't really matter anyway. The evening started with a boatrace, a 'sober lunge' (where one has to hook up with their date) and a lot of vodka-based punch. Other games included a version of pass-the-parcel where each layer of the parcel contained an instruction for the couple to perform. My date and I had to remove 2 items of clothing before lunging, while another couple had to perform an interesting scenario involving a broomstick. All in all, an interesting night.

Unfortunately I made the fatal mistake of drinking far too much punch, and have since learned my lesson. I was forced to skip all my lectures when I realised that I couldn't get out of bed without throwing up. I have truly never been this hungover before, and I hope never to be again. It is now 1pm, and I have only just managed to keep down a mouthful of water and a cracker. Wait, half a cracker. The other half is still waiting for me.

On this basis, I am choosing to adopt a mantra that a friend of mine came up with towards the end of the year, whose wisdom I have not truly comprehended until now:
"Drinking is bad for you. Alcohol is poison."
Truer words have never been spoken.

Burn, baby, burn

Whoever invented the firedrill should be shot.

This was the mantra repeating itself incessantly in my mind last night as I traipsed sleepily down the res stairs, the shrill fire alarm blaring in my ears. First years rushed past me, blankets clutched against their chests and terrified expressions lighting up their faces. In the beginning of first year, one is told that speed is of the essence during a firedrill, lest it turns out to be a true emergency and we all fry in our beds because we were too lazy to sprint down the stairs. Naturally once you've been through the process a couple of times, you can't be bothered to hurry. During one of the workshops we went through last year, a fireman told us "If there is a fire in your res, your chances of survival are slim." If I'm going to burn to death anyway, then I shall do it at a leisurely pace.

Another important rule that we are told is to place our dustbins outside our bedroom doors when the fire alarm goes off to indicate that we've left our rooms. If it was a real fire, I doubt I would take those few extra minutes to wrestle my stubborn dustbin from under my desk and kick it out of my door (as I did last night). If they're going to take a register once we've evacuated the building, who needs to see a dustbin? On that point, who is going to re-enter a burning building just to check how many dustbins are outside bedrooms?

And of course there's the ever-popular "Don't take anything with you!" that we've been told since primary school firedrills. At my very first firedrill in first year, I obeyed this rule perfectly. It was only after we were allowed to return to our rooms that I realised I'd locked myself out. Since then I choose to alter this rule to suit myself: "Don't take anything with you EXCEPT your keys! And possibly your cellphone so you can update your Facebook status. And maybe a blanket if it's cold."

So to sum up my thought processes during a firedrill:
"Wha...effing fire alarm! Crap. It's 3am for god's sake! OK let's see...can you tell I'm not wearing a bra? Hope not. Where are my keys? Wait, grab a blanket. Alright NOW where are my keys? Oh there they are. Is my heater still on? Actually, who cares. The place is burning down anyway. I should probably hurry."
(opens door and walks quickly down corridor)
"Wait...forgot the damn dustbin."
By this point, of course, the fire would probably have consumed most of the res and a burning pile of floorboards would crash down on my head as I maneuver my dustbin out from under my desk.

Hmm. I can see now why they tell us to hurry. Ah screw it. I may as well stay in bed. With my procrastinating skills, I'm never going to make it to the front door anyway.

The Dangers of IM...

Je suis, tu es, il est, elle est, nous sommes...

Studying for tests is never fun. Conjugating French verbs is even less enjoyable. And so, rather than trying to force my poor, overworked brain to accept this new knowledge, I find myself sitting on Gtalk and chatting to a friend. Interestingly enough, he keeps mentioning that he has "SO much Greek work to finish!" and yet he's still here, making small talk with me about girls, food and paedophiles. (Don't ask. We have a strange friendship). When he complained that he was tired, I told him to go to bed. His response? "I still have Greek work to do. Plus I'm busy procrastinating."

What fascinates me is that this is not a rare occurrence among myself and my friends; in fact, it seems fairly common among any and all varsity students. The closer the test/exam/assignment due date gets, the more interest we find in menial tasks like cleaning out our sock drawers, drinking 'just one more' cup of tea in the dining hall, and debating about the weather with random res mates that we meet in the corridor. (OK, to be fair the weather in Grahamstown is an endless source of fascination. But more on that another time). To sit down and study for a test sounds so simple, and yet somehow it becomes a complex battle of wills between myself, my textbooks and of course the ever-present Facebook.

I'll just check my notifications quickly, I tell myself. There won't be many. I mean, I was on only ten minutes ago. But you never know. Maybe the cute guy from Friday night invited me as a friend!
And forty minutes later I'm still there, sending messages to friends I haven't seen in five years and flicking through endless pages of bumper stickers while my poor textbook sits alone and forgotten on my bed. Procrastination is not a habit, it's a disease. And I have yet to find a cure.

One would think that all it would take is a failed test and I would be motivated to study harder once again. If only! Somehow, I always seem to pull it off at the last minute and scramble my way to a first with the minimum amount of effort. It usually involves one late-night study session and a lot of grumpy, sleepy cursing when I have to drag myself out of bed after half an hour of sleep. I don't know why I do this to myself.

But as they say, there are three S's in the student life: Study, Sleep and Socialise. The general belief is that it is only possible to achieve two of the three.
...
Challenge accepted!

In a crooked little town...

Blogging has never been a strong point of mine. Over the years I've started numerous blogs for numerous different reasons, many of which have long been lost in the mists of cyberspace. One that particularly springs to mind was a form of online diary during my highschool years. The endless list of crushes and boyfriends it contained was actually quite a terrifying sight. Perhaps it is better that that particular blog remains lost...

But I digress. Today I begin this blog to document the many weird and wonderful things that happen in the tiny Eastern Cape town of Grahamstown. For those of you who don't know it (and I have no doubt there are many of you), Grahamstown is the kind of town one would expect to find in a Stephen King novel. It's very small, it has the strangest weather patterns, and it is inhabited by a lot of old people with a tendency of trying to run you down.

To be fair, their homicidal tendencies may be justified. Grahamstown is also a student town, famous for one of the most beautiful universities in South Africa: Rhodes University. The students are known colloquially as Rhodents, and are sadly infamous for the amount of alcohol they drink (at this point, I would like to correct this belief: Rhodes ran an "Alcohol Awareness" campaign in 2010 that showed the majority of the students are not heavy drinkers. Many of the students have theorised that this rumour of heavy drinking came about because Rhodes is smaller than many other universities, and so the drinking students appear to be more condensed).

Yes I am a Rhodent, and proud to be one. I wear my purple and white colours with pride :) and so through this blog I hope to share the many experiences, stresses, ups, downs, parties, exam troubles and general excitement that accompanies the three years of the undergrad degree. To quote a sport-war-chant handed down through the generations:

"SEND YOUR KIDS TO RHODES!"

Peace.

PS: Please take what I say with a pinch of salt. This is only opinion, not fact. Freedom of speech and all that jazz :)