Not all dogs are chihuahuas.

I heard the other day that there is to be a meeting held between the wardens of the various residences at Rhodes University to decide the fate of the infamous Orientation Week serenades. Typically, these serenades are a way of getting the reses to meet and greet one another at the beginning of their first year. Usually, a song and dance routine (usually a very badly sung and terrible-choreographed routine) is done to break the ice, like a fat, tone-deaf polar bear. This year, however, one girl (there could have been more, but let's focus on the one in question) wrote a letter to the Dean of Students, complaining that the serenades were sexist and made her feel "objectified". In addition, she felt that it felt like initiation, and she said that she felt uncomfortable sitting in her pajamas telling "her stripper name" whilst being ogled by men. Our warden emailed us all, asking us to give our thoughts on the matter. This is but an extension of those thoughts.

Serenades: not ALL bad

I can understand that serenades can go wrong. In the heat of O week, when hook-up fever and the post-highschool freedoms of university hit us hardest, we can forget things like subtlety, sensitivity and bearable singing. Serenades can at times get a little sexually suggestive (I remember one lyric "Ladies/ you're looking good/ so good/ so finger-licking good") and raunchy (pelvic hipthrusts are the dancemove du jour).

However, in the same regard, I think that this can just as easily have been an isolated incident. Guy Butler (my residence) has always had this at-times quite cliche reputation of being "the Gentlemen's Res" (our sign has a dude with walking stick and top-hat; and just LOOK at the above picture of last year's serenade) and our lyrics have never been downright lewd or outright lecherous. Hence my terrible proverb title basically entailing the synecdochal fallacy: that we judge a whole based on a part (One society steals money? "Ban ALL the socieites!" Does that make sense?) In this case, perhaps it would be understandable to call for more moderation: make certain lyrics (i.e. those likening women to a bucket of KFC) not allowed, and tone down the Maverick's-esque dance routine.

Logic: not always dependable

However, banning it outright would be a terrible mistake. Serenades are such an important way to get to know the different reses and to meet new faces when you're just days into your stay at Rhodes. Instead, we should highlight the fact that taking part in these serenades is entirely *not compulsory* (I don't know how else I could have emphasised that more strongly).

If something bothers you, hell, downright offends you, to the point where you feel it necessary to write a letter to the DoS, don't you think you should find a way to stop it happening? Again, I reiterate: the serenades are not compulsory. You don't have to take part. So sitting there, and dancing the lewd dances, and cracking the crude jokes, and singing the dirty, lecherous lyrics, you are in fact complicit. If you lack the strength of character to stand against what you think is wrong, then perhaps you should accept lying in the bed you've made for yourself. If you sit in a barber's chair and ask for a haircut, and he just cuts and cuts and cuts and cuts, and you just sit there silently watching, what good is it complaining that you're bald when you had the power all along to speak up and put an end to it? And justifying it with "oh, but if I had not taken part it would have made it awkward for me in res" is a stupid cop-out. Again, you have the power to change the things you don't like in university. This isn't highschool; this isn't some idiotic, clique-strewn popularity contest. And besides: when did taking a stand for what you believe in ever win you friends? I could just as easily say "oh, but if I speak out against the horrifically racist jokes my friends are making, then they won't like me", but how would that improve things? At the end of the day, what good is it having a thousand friends if they're all ignoramuses whom you detest?

I'll bet my top dollar that there were far more people who enjoyed serenades than felt offended by it. We can't burn down the whole orchard just because of a few bad apples (geez, my analogies are painful to read, aren't they?). Instead, we should afford future generations of Rhodents the opportunity to decide for themselves.

I scream "KONY"!

The man himself

By now you're probably either utterly enraged by, or pissed off because of, this face. He needs no introduction; his face has been spamming your EVERYTHING since the infamous video calling for him to "become famous" came out. The video is pretty long (29min), so watching it on my Spartan (note, Dear Reader - and Hellenic Society- that this means "austere, frugal" and not "huge and muscular and Scottish-accented") student internet quota was quite an investment on my part.

There is no doubt about it: he's an evil man.

But already we reach our first problem. I come from Zimbabwe, and many of my Zimbabwean friends shared this. Why? Have you SEEN your (our? I feel more and more disconnected from that place every day that passes) own country? Similar, if not worse, atrocities happen there. Just because there isn't a sparkly, sad video showing the horrific beatings and political oppression, it doesn't mean that it doesn't happen. Where was our "MUGABE 2008" campaign, during a period known simply as "The Fear". In a similar way, South Africans post it. Even closer to home, did you Grahamstonians SEE the water last night? Where were your statuses,huh? (I'm trying to fix this; I have a large water filtration project for Rhodes that is slowing gaining momentum, if only those bastards at AquaVie would respond to my emails). Meanwhile, our society is so marred with problems that it makes Joseph look like the Virgin Mary. This is, in a way, Imperialism. It's making us care about American problems, and turning attention from our own. The thing is, Americans have time to care about things abroad, simple because (relatively speaking) their country isn't a corrupt, dangerous shithole. In this way, the KONY campaign makes us ALL invisible children. By casting a bright light on Uganda, it sends shadows arching over the rest of the world's problems.

The other "Invisible children"

There have also been allegations of only 31% of donations actually going to a cause, and of Kony-haters supporting Ugandan forces (Uganda basically hates homosexuals). The Ugandan military doesn't exactly have a sparkling record: apparently, they have been known to use rape as a weapon of war. By proxy, if you 'like' KONY 2012, you 'like' the exact same things that you're trying to stop. Also, there are some parts of the documentary that are misleading or just plain wrong.

The campaign also showed me the sheer ignorant apathy of people (or, conversely, the apathetic ignorance of people). Many posted "stop this kak u'll only change nothing" (note the horrific grammar, Dear Reader), which is absurd. Caring is good. When we get lost in the Mr Kurtz-esque "Africa the unsaveable" mindset, then we're really screwed. I also dislike the fact that some smear the campaign. And just because America (if we're to call all dogs chihuahuas, to use one of my strange proverbs) probably only cares about things that enrich it (ie oil in Iraq), it doesnt mean that every time someone cares about something they are after blood diamonds or crude oil or whatever natural resource occurs in the country in question. Whatever its intrinsic problems are, its heart is in the right place. Saying that a facebook repost is pointless is wrong. Facebook and Twitter are just the modern, electronic equivalents of placards.

That said, the whole campaign does inspire hope in me. It's amazing that social media can spread one single issue across the whole globe like wildfire in a matter of hours. Libya, Egypt, Uganda... It leaves a tingling feeling of excitement in my stomach, as I try to think what social networks will be used for next.

Hopefully something a lot closer to home.

War

I read this blog post today. It's a response to the subject of my last post, that infamous article "Club Etiquette" (someone should upload it to give context). After reading it, I felt... well, challenged. Not because it's hard-hitting, cutting journalism (which it isn't) but because it put me at a loss for words.
Speechless. A thing that happens rarely, if ever.
But then I found a picture that somewhat embodies my feelings.

My reaction

Though I hate starting with cliched defenses, I'm obviously not a rape denialist (Chrome's spell-checker tells me that's not a word), or apologist, or whatever crap someone might want to call me. Rape is wrong. We don't need a blog to tell us that. Great, now that that is out the way, I'm gonna try to untangle the bag of snakes that is my internal turmoil right now.

First of all, I've read the article. It's bad, like I pointed out in my last post. Hence, I took none of it seriously (something everyone might want to think about doing). I certainly didn't think that the article "silences rape survivors". However, the author of the blog post (Michelle Solomon, editor of Activate's rival paper, The Oppidan Press - but we'll get to that little niggle in a sec) did just that. Suddenly, a trivial fluff-piece had become a Rorschach test in which demons, monsters, and above all rape lived.

"Unfairly taken advantage of", in one swift and inexplicable move of synonymy and denotation, became "rape". One comment stated that "being taken advantage of IS rape", which is, well, silly. The guy who sold me that ornamental guitar in Mozambique took advantage of my ignorance and touristy ways, and got more money that it was worth, but he certainly didn't rape me. And also (from personal experience, Dear Reader) 'taking someone home' does not mean having sex with them. Hell, even sleeping with them doesn't mean having sex with them. This in itself is the major problem with this blog post: it assumes that what is described in the article is rape, clear and undeniably simple. However, now that we're in the realm of connotation and denotation (thank you, 2nd-year Journalism), I'd hardly say that you'd rape "the person of your dreams". Maybe I'm just being romantic or conservative here, but a better verb would be "ask out", "kiss" or "marry", not "drag her drunk ass home sans consent". Also, the original article's author is female, so I don't think that denying rape or suggesting that it is okay are high on her list. If we say that Activate's article (sorry, that should be "rape apologia") is one that trivialises rape and provides a platform for rape denialism (still not a word), then we should use the same logic and say that this response post is demeaning to Rhodes University students, and assumes that we just walk around with rape on our minds. In short, the article's molehill is made into a mountain. Yes, rape is a problem, but we mustn't make every problem some underhand, obscure justification/denial of rape.

Also, Solomon is the Editor for Oppidan Press. As far as I've been able to gather from my sources, no opportunity was afforded to the Editor of Activate to even apologise or print a retraction, a decision that disgusts me. This, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call mudslinging. I'm not saying that journalists shouldn't criticise each other just because they work for rival factions, but what I am saying is that you should try to get an explanation first. Last year I had a huge showdown with Activate about a column that spoke disparagingly of red-haired people in a column (something about them not having souls), and what did I do? Did I jump onto my computer, smash the keyboard in self-righteous fury and berate them at length on a public forum? No. I emailed the writer and the Editor. And hey-presto! Lo and behold! The issue got dealt with! This sort of rash, hot-headed journalism is the kind that gets you into trouble before you even know it.

Finally, the posted is headed, footed and sided  by credentials saying that the article is "written on behalf of the Rhodes University’s Gender Action Project (GAP) and Slutwalk Grahamstown".  Well, Solomon is chair of the former and co-organiser of the latter. In my opinion, that's hiding opinion behind a formal organisation. It would be like me saying that this blog post is written on behalf of the Rowing club, Guitar Society and the Matthew de Klerk Foundation. If, by her reasoning, Activate is to be held accountable and seen as complicit in Loxton's alleged denialism, then maybe GAP and Slutwalk should be held accountable for Solomon's brash reaction?

I want to just speak to you as frankly as I can. Let us drop, for a second, the overly-verbose academic register, the caution and backtracking of political correctness, the uptight professional journalistic agency and the other influences on the way we speak, write, act and reason, and just be real; sometimes, these things can get in the way of simple, clear-cut, reason. To cut this long story short, the reaction to this article has been uncalled for and unfounded. I think it's dangerous when we let our emotions, indignation and defenses of our various causes get too far. In the past, I have written articles in screaming blue fury in reaction to things that I thought were insanely offensive and wrong. Sure, some of it might have been good writing, but it didn't remove the fact that I had lost the objectivity and impartiality that I had been taught as a journalist to always maintain. I remember a journalism lecture when a guy came in and gave a (fake) press release from the Media Monitoring agency basically trolling us to hell and back. Most of us just stormed out in anger; many argued with him. In the end, none of the information that we had been assigned to get had been gotten. The lesson at the end was one that has resounded with me ever since: keep composure. Our emotions cloud or judgement and mar our thought-processes, and we get so tangled and infuriated at details that we forget to see the bigger picture.

This whole ordeal has been a debacle. Michelle Solomon committed a grave error, albeit one that gave her +1000 page views in a few hours. Why must we read so deeply into things, and take them so overwhelmingly to extremes? And if defending Simone Loxton and Activate and saying that this is a case of "Controversy where there is none", puts me at odds with Solomon's blog post, then, well, so be it (though that might make me a denialist as well).

I'll leave the last word to Mister Freud.

"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar"

Article ‘Activates’ bad blood

A furore ripped across campus today (and by “furore” I mean something more like “inane lunchtable discussions and Editor Wars”) after the most recent edition of the student newspaper, Activate, came out. Now, being quite a Grammar Nazi, I can understand why. You see, in this edition, hiding  deep in the recesses of the Lifestyle pages (page 20, for those of you who want to track it down), is an article expertly penned by one Simone Loxton. I could delve into why this article was bad, but that would just be mea…

Oh, screw it. ATTACK!

THIS... IS... MATT'S BLOG!!!

The article (titled “Club Etiquette”, as if such a thing exists in Grahamstown) is written in a sort of offhand advice-cum-features piece, in an attempt to educate incoming seals, er, First-years on the ins and outs and expected behaviour at venues such as the memorable (and by that Rhodents usually mean that they remember nothing) smoke-filled sardine tin that is Friars, a place so littered with broken bottles and spilled drink that you sometimes catch yourself believing that the dancefloor is, in fact, trying simultaneously to shred and goo you to death. That is, if by that stage of the evening you haven’t already had someone try to eat you alive tonsils-first.

The article starts out, “There is something about Grahamstown that automatically justifies unbelievable behaviour on a night out”. Okay, so that means that the whole article is redundant, because you can basically do what you want, non? Moving on.

The rest of the first paragraph is filled with jumpy, fragmented language that seems as if the author tried to glue random bits of printed-out sentences together. However, the pièce de résistance of the article has to be the second paragraph, which reads (sans correction):

Firstly, and this on probably affects us all: do not drop your glass on the floor. The satisfying sound of the flat pop of a glass breaking as it smashes after its second bounce (can be the coolest way to make your point). People hate it when you do this, as having glass attached to the sole of your shoe (or foot) not only ruins it but makes you uncomfortable and really annoyed.
                Activate, Edition 1, 2012 (APA-style referencing can suck it)

Whilst I must congratulate the author on the correct use of “its” and “your” (a rarity in this place, believe you me), I must point out her redundancy: “the sound of the flat pop”. A pop IS a sound, dearie; it’s like saying “the bright blue of the blue sky”. Also: glass bounces? Last I checked, Friars didn’t serve drinks in HercuGlass tumblers. And why does the sentence suddenly cut into brackets?! Moving on from this, glass doesn’t merely attach to your foot or shoe. No: rather it sticks into that bastard, DEEP. I once stood on glass at a party in 2010 (sorry, “got glass ‘attached’ to my foot”) and needed five stitches, and I must say that I didn’t feel merely annoyed and uncomfortable. No, I screamed raving blue murder and had to be driven to a clinic many, many kilometres away for immediate treatment (I won’t say why the on-site paramedics didn’t stitch me up themselves – let’s just leave that in the past).

My first reaction to the article

Anyway, I’m actually getting bored of this. It’s too easy; my hyper-corrective tendencies make it like shooting handicapped fish in a glass beaker with an assault rifle. Also, I’m not sure if I want to be so mean to someone I don’t know.  But overall and all things considered (the tautology of solidarity, my friends, to show Miss Loxton that I feel her pain) what we can surmise from the short critique into this article that  either:
A) The subediting process went horrible askew,
or
B) Simone is a not an experienced writer.

Which brings me to the point of this blog post (which has changed since I’ve decided not to be an asshole): Student Journalism.

Last year I worked as the Opinions Editor for the better of the two Rhodes University newspapers (here, ladies and gentlemen, we see a display of the author’s terrible bias). It was, all things considered, a horrible job. After about three weeks, 80% (a made-up percentage, but bear with me) of my writing staff abandoned me/stopped responding to my emails, leaving me all alone in a locked room with a two-page, 3000-word section. Those were dark days. Add this to my commitments as a rower (training three times a day) and my duties as a student (essays abound), writing six or seven 500-worders was a chore. But hell, I did it. Once in a while I’d have a burst of inspiration from a seal, er, First-year student (political correctness is such a bitch), but overall it was a very heavy burden on my shoulders. Hell, ask any student editor.

As campus newsmakers, we have a responsibility to give our readers journalism and reportage that is relevant, accurate, and entertaining. However, one of the major problems is that the Journalism and Media Studies course at Rhodes is very theory-heavy, skimping on practical instruction and almost assuming that the students in question have been news writers for years before registering at Rhodes. And so, we as editors have to deal with one very problematic problem (solidarity, my brothers, solidarity): either reject the badly-written submissions and use our own years of skill and write the damn paper ourselves (a lengthy and time-consuming process that pushed the boundaries of my sanity, made the Opinions section more like “Matthew de Klerk’s personal ranting space” and discourages fledgling writers from practising their craft), or use their poorly drafted articles so as to encourage our writers and keep them submitting (at a cost to the paper’s overall appeal).

This is not, Dear Reader, an easy choice, and we editors are only human: subediting, improvements, restructuring and suggestions only go so far in polishing a turd, so to speak. And whilst it’s all very well to sit here and pick apart (hell, tear to shreds) a writer who is new to the craft, there are wider contexts to consider. Making a newspaper that long is not easy. I won’t ever pretend that it’s not.
Because it’s something we do above and beyond the call of duty. Swamped by tests, training and essays, we still take time to churn out news for student readers, who get the paper *for free*.

It's either one or the other.

It’s the modern conundrum of journalism: readers want it free AND well-written. Digital “free”ism is killing quality and increasing criticism. 

But as another point, let’s be serious: as bad as it is, it’s just a harmless features article. I’ve heard that relations between the opposing editors of each paper have become very strained and serious, with (sources tell me) allegations of “rape-denialism” (referring to paragraph five of the article) even surfacing. “Controversy where there doesn’t need to be,” my source tells me. Hells, I couldn’t have said it better myself. People need to take stuff less personally.

Anyway, I guess what I’ve taken too much of your time to say is that we shouldn’t be too harsh on our journalists. They’re trying their best. And Simone, if you’re reading this, just keep working at it.
You’ll always meet asshole critics (note: NOT "asshole-critics") like me. Just keep working at it.

Oh, and don’t drop glass in clubs. That shit is annoying and uncomfortable. 

All animals are equal

I know this blog is supposed to follow the average life of a student here (namely mine), but sometimes I just think and think and think about something until it nearly drives me mad. And so, I’ve decided to blog it. My mate Jess tells me it’s therapeutic, or something.

In class today, I and a few friends stumbled upon a very peculiar thing being discussed. Conversation is such a funny thing, evolving and fluid, changing topic and course constantly, and very soon our conversation had steered its course onto that of Homosexuals, in particular the homosexual community at Rhodes.

Now, my experience with homosexuals has been nothing but great. Hell, my gaydar (people still say that, right?) is terrible, and so usually (as was the case with two of the first gay guys I met at Rhodes University) I just think that the people in question are very friendly, effeminate guys, until my later embarrassment (because to everyone else it’s apparently SO obvious). The Rhodes Gay community, or at least the little bit that I’ve been exposed to, has been awesome. They’re a fun-loving group, with a lot of them being the Drama Department (a place I have always secretly adored since Innovations last year, where I sang that duet rendition with Spha- one of the aforementioned men whom my gaydar totally missed).

Anyway, these two friends of mine (who, for friendship’s sake, will remain nameless) were discussing quite vehemently a girl they know who gets a little over the top and in-your-face about her lesbian-ness since coming out of the closet. I’ve always thought that whom you choose to love should be like which kind of ice cream you prefer to eat: it should be a personal choice that needs no public airing or explanation. Maybe if people started acting as if gayness was normalness, we wouldn’t need to make being gay a big deal, in both a bad and good sense; hence why I’ve always thought Gay Pride events are a little self-defeating. Ah! But I digress again! So, Friend 1 mentions that there’s a thing called being “an All-Star gay” or a “Gold-Star gay” or something along those lines. Basically what this entails is that the gay in question is an “original gay” ie has never slept with someone of the opposite sex.

This shocked me. Even as a joke (under the ever-popular political justification of “context”), it’s a little stupid. Class distinctions (because that is exactly what that is) are never good. They create an “us – them” Othering mentality, which, even if we think it is harmless, is hugely problematic.

Let us consider Gay Rights. The world has things like Proposition 8 in California of 2008, a constitutional amendment that nullified the previously acceptable gay marriages (following the passing of Propostition 22 of the year 2000). Closer to home, we have massive hate crimes against gay people, especially where so-called “corrective rape” (a fucking nauseating term, if you’ll excuse my French) is concerned.

In light of this, I don’t think anyone should make subclasses or distinguish between different levels of gayness, or even, for that matter, anything-ness. What immediately comes to mind are images from George Orwell’s Animal Farm: “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others”. Or maybe I’m just overreacting.

But then this got me thinking: about Rights, primarily. How many rights have we (I use the collective ‘we’ here, to refer to humans in general) fought tooth and nail for, and how many of these rights do we take utterly for granted? I think of all the times I could have voted but claimed to be too busy. I think of all the times I could have gone to lectures, but skipped class.

I think what I’m trying to say is that I think that we all need to be a little more appreciative of the things we can do without being imprisoned, and of the people around us. We should measure the quality of a person by the size of his or her heart, and their his or her overall humanity, and not by some social hierarchy.

One hell of a weekend

Following Friday night, my body and I aren't exactly friends. I think I might have bronchitis.
That, however, doesn't stop me doing the things that I love to do: I played at Champs Action Bar on Saturday night. It's an okay venue; it honestly seems like the new SlipStream Sports bar. The layout isn't exactly conducive to live performances. The acoustics aren't the best, and the guys on the soundboard, well, they could have been a little more reactive. By my last song (and what a short set!) I could barely hear my own guitar. I tried to compensate by turning up the volume on my guitar, but then they turned the master down.
Yeah, I know, right?
Oh well, at least it was a great opportunity to show my new Spanish and flamenco influences. I sang a couple of covers, which I thought went really well, but it was the lightning-fast, blitzing hand action of Spanish triplets that was the real icing on the cake. Eyes were opened, and jaws dropped.
I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I can't wait for next Wednesday. I just hope that this time I play AFTER 9pm (before that, and you're playing to an empty bar; not fun).

Other than that, I spent three hours in the Drama Department playing and rehearsing our performance in late March. It's gonna be a lot of fun. Robynne's voice wasn't on form today, but I think if we get some more practice in she will really shine. The dancing is pretty great as well. I'm looking forward to it.

Until Wednesday, Dear Reader.

... and steps.

6.30am run planned for tomorrow, then it's off to practise guitar for the Innovations performance with my friend Robz Peatfield. I also have assignments due, but hey: this is 3rd year. What did I expect?

In other guitar news, our GuitarSociety sign-up went just fine, thank you very much. We signed about 50 or more people, and there are still a lot more who are expressing interest in joining our fledgling society and taking their first steps towards great guitardom. Now we just need venues, practice slots, and equipment... Sheesh...
Also: Cait is strange. Left hand guitar, what?! Who does that?! (Yes, Hendrix, I know).
In further developments, still nothing going with this Rodrigo y Gabriella duo idea that I had with George (of GuitarSoc, the founding father, so to speak), which is slightly disappointing. We could make some people's jaws drop, I tell you.

And on the subject of jaw-dropping, I hope to see yours doing similar actions at Champs Action Bar (where Scott's Spot - a place visited only once - used to be). Doors open at 7pm, the Acoustic Fireside Jam starts at 9pm, and goes on until 12. Not sure when I'm on yet, but I will let you know.

Peace

The first of many

Played a set at Pirates bar last night, which was exciting. It's the first gig of the year in Grahamstown, and there are set to be many, many more. I'll probably be playing again on Saturday at Champs Action Bar for the Acoustic Fireside Jam. These performances will mark a definite shift away from covers. I mean, we all love covers (especially drunk people who believe with all their heart that they can sing), but I feel that I have to take Phil Moffet's advice (he's a great guitarist who used to play/study/work/live in Grahamstown) and get into my own style and songs. It was also the first time I've unveiled my spanish and flamenco influences. I am very excited about where this is all going (although it would have been nice to have had a bigger crowd - i guess that's what you get for taking the too-early 8pm slot).

Nothing much has happened on the rowing front. I have what appears to be the preliminary stages of bronchitis, and so i'm trying to nuke that while it's still in the bud (thank God for Louis Pasteur). I tried going for a run yesterday, but after 7km my lungs almost seized up; it felt like I was trying to breathe through sand.
I'll just have to postpone serious training until my body is ready for it. I know it is possible to train when sick, but I'd rather not chance it.

And for all those University party lovers, it's our rowing party on Friday, coupled with my and a friend's 21st celebrations!

Until next time, Dear Reader.

Baby steps

And so the journey has begun.

On the Rowing/sporting front, I've finally signed up for the gym (a New Year's resolution most don't succeed in) and woke up at 6am for a 7km run. Ended up only running at 6.30am, though: had one of those dreams - you know, the ones where you dream you have gotten out of bed and are pulling on your clothes? Yeah. Sneaky, my brain. Sneaky.

Guitar is also looking good! If you haven't caught up with my Youtube guitar channel, Dear Reader, you can do so now. Playing my first Grahamstown gig of the year tonight at Pirates pizza bar (I forget its formal business name, but down here we Rhodents just call it Pirates), and have gotten an email to play on Saturday at another bar called Champs. Baby steps, so to speak.

And, just to round this post up (can't talk only about work and, well, passion under the guise of work) it's my 21st party on Friday, which might get just a little bit out of hand. But hey, that's a few days away, so let's take this week as it comes.

Baby steps.

2012 and new directions

With us only just into the what will turn out to be NOT the last year of the world, I've decided to revamp this whole blog. Sure, ranting and raving about the things that make you seethe might be entertaining once in a while (Facebook is just one such thing), but at the end of the day it's just a bunch of hot air.

So, in which new direction shall this old blog be travelling? Well, I figured that I should just make it about the quotidian life of a university student living, partying and (contrary to popular belief) working damn hard at Rhodes University. Since that last blog post (geez, 2010 was SO long ago; it only hit me now how much time has passed since I walked through those hypothetical University gates) I've become a lot more... well, at home.
My Rowing has taken off since April last year (won Boatrace two years running against UJ), as has guitar, partying and just about everything else you could imagine. Let's be honest here: Third year is the bomb.


And so, this blog shall cover a bit of everything: music that inspires me, guitar clips of my own, things that frustrate or excite me, and the latest developments in my social, academic and sporting lives.


Let's make this year a good one.

Peace