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Camping: Summer Edition

It’s almost laughable that our camping trip was referred to as “The Summer Edition” because the sun barely made an appearance.The week long visit into the second world, also known as the Watagans, was fleeting and eventful.

There was no need to measure time, only in units of “Beer O’Clock”. It was actually quite therapeutic to turn off all of my electronic devices. Surprisingly, in a whole week, I only missed out on three text messages and about 11 emails. Here I was thinking I was important! It just goes to show that it’s not a big deal to be without technology for a week!

So instead of tweeting, texting and status updates, we went for a three hour bush walk, following the river along the trail as far as we could manage until we grew tired. We only had to stop because one of the group stupidly injured themselves, no names will be mentioned here.

The one time we did leave the Watagans was a matter of life and death: we had no foam cups. It was impossible to consume coffee without them, and I hadn’t had a cup in three days. The group was starting to notice, I was becoming easily irritated and I tired quickly. So our trip back to the first world involved restocking in supplies and sanity. Going to McDonalds was much appreciated, as was the McCafe.

We reverted to an arguably childlike state, playing games of our past like Bullrush and 44 Home. I let them have 44 Home, but back in my day we made it interesting by calling it 24 Home. Much less time to hide, more fun. The group played these games until we were bruised and sore. 

This would be followed up by the defining question of the trip: “Is it 5 o’clock yet?”. Most of the time the answer was no, but when it was yes, we could get really rowdy! Some of us were victim to dancing crazily around a blazing bonfire, some showed restraint. Some had been drinking, some hadn’t. Rain, hail or shine, we still managed to have a good time!

But returning from such a camping trip really makes you appreciate the advantages of the first world. The inaugural outing to a shopping centre is like a rite of passage, leading to a membership to the consumer club. Hey, don’t judge me, I’m stimulating the economy through the retail sector. At this time of year, so is everyone else!

Would I do it again? Maybe. Next time, we need to give ourselves much more to do!

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"I sometimes think we expect too much of Christmas Day. We try to crowd into it the long arrears of kindliness and humanity of the whole year. As for me, I like to take my Christmas a little at a time, all through the year. And thus I drift along into the holidays—let them overtake me unexpectedly—waking up some fine morning and suddenly saying to myself: ‘Why, this is Christmas Day!’"

— David Grayson

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End of Days

As the final days of university draw to a close, only the devout students attend the last few lectures and tutorials. We sit here eagerly, clearly being productive - taking notes, asking questions, finishing work on our assignments as good students do.

But we are alone in the university, our friends weren’t stupid enough to join us on the 2 hour train trip and travelling time. They sleep in until lunch time, forgetting what they have to do, missing due dates or just scraping by. Our friends are blissfully unaware of the stress and torture we are putting ourselves through.

The library will be quiet, desolate, depressing. Banks of computer will be free, but we no longer need to use them. There are over a million books on the shelves, but there is no time to read them as the semester slowly ends.

I sit with one friend who for some reason is still here, yet has nothing to do apart from writing angry emails to his lecturers and tutors. How productive, I assume, what a necessary task to complete! The time spent is so valuable to him, but still he continues to aimlessly type into an oblivion in a hope that he will recover more works.

When I said end of days, I meant no religious connotation at all. Merely it was a reflection of the days or weeks remaining of the semester. So Christians fear not!

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There’s nothing like a home cooked meal, made by one’s mother.

There’s nothing like a home cooked meal, made by one’s mother.

Photoset
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The ‘Bingo Rage’ Phenomenon

I know this isn’t something everyone would randomly start thinking about but let’s put it this way: I had a lot of spare time of the semester break.

Spending my Sunday afternoons playing bingo with my grandmother has taught me that older people can be very violent when it comes to bingo. Seriously, don’t laugh.

Dabbers are pressed hardly onto the bingo, muttering of voices can be heard the closer they get to winning the prize at the end. But when the numbers don’t match up, the reactions are almost in slow motion.

Heads will roll and spit will fly if they don’t win, year after year and dollar after dollar they say. Yes of course, life must be difficult for you, you reply. Keep the peace and don’t get the rage, and maybe go somewhere else on Sunday… Church anyone?

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Reflections on the Psychic Fair

Never in my life had I envisioned undertaking such a unique spiritual experience. The psychic fair was a promise made to my best friend, I gave her my word that I would attend. It was an event that a sceptic such as myself would find difficult to enjoy, or so I thought…

Once I got there I discovered a magical place - a space filled with stall and clairvoyants, mediums and palm readers. Books were neatly lined up for sale, which reassured my presence, as I can’t resist a book sale (especially not one peddling self development solutions!).

The psychic fair isn’t all about what one would assume, there’s more to it than crazy philosophy and individualised belief systems - it’s about self development. This sense of self generated by the surroundings dissolved my scepticism, mainly because it was aligned to my current interest of improving myself which is where I place my faith in, rather than to a particular religion.

My friend had her reading done, and while I waited I realised that I had always searched for clarity and direction in my life, clear goals and a sole purpose. Now I had opened my arguably cynical mind, a bitter love affair between pessimism and realism.

It’s truly amazing how simply one can change by drawing an ironic tarot card from the mysterious deck of life, a literal metaphor (or so I felt). According to this card, I inspire trust and confidence. I really hope I do. Such a result has given me something refreshingly new to believe in.

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Warning: Exercise After Dark

If your schedule dictates that the ever necessary visits to the gym have to occur after 5.30p.m., I’m suggesting not to bother.

At this hour the gym overfills with eventually sweaty businessmen and the commuter crowd - these people are workaholics by day and gym junkies by night. It is recommended you avoid these groups at all costs.

The ‘after park’ problem means that machines are never available, always in use by the overly zealous of bodybuilders and wannabes, the floor is crowded and messy. Patrons of the gym are hopeless at organising themselves, blocking off the corridors and clustering in the most inconvenient places.

This really makes it difficult for the rest of us. We have our designated program, we want to retain a structured effort towards the ultimate goal of excellent health and fitness. Such discipline is a far cry from the harried commuter dash routine.

If you haven’t determined this by now, the gym after dark is a busy time of day - so for the ultimate workout, avoid this time and direct yourself elsewhere. Leave before 5.30, just advice based on experience.

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An Impossible Standard

We sit through lectures studiously taking notes on what we deem key points, then return home only to summarise over our efforts. Is this all in vain? Can we achieve the same results with less effort?

Probably. Regardless, we attend tutorials and labs judiciously without fail - asking meaningful questions and completing meaningful tasks in search for equally meaningful answers and recognition for our work.

Time is spent researching beyond the requirements (in advance of course) aiming to maximise our marks like a conscientious automaton. Our second home is the university library, our second family are the staff.

Social lives die a slow, painful death as they are washed down the drain. Our money piles up because we only leave the house for university and work.

But just to be sure, we summarise our summaries, e-mail our lecturers and tutors for constant feedback and approval, we show our drafts to everyone - in an endless cycle of productivity and efficiency, never slowing down.

We’ve done everything physically possible to be prepared for the final exams and yet we still stress irrationally. While we fuss over minute details, the rest worry over everything.

We are busy, latte sipping or energy drink swilling robots. I present to you all, the model university student. A standard a have failed to reach in the first semester of university. As there is semester two to look forward to, I wish you all the best of luck!

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"The beleaguered intellectual - it is a badge and a position in life."

— Jacques Barzun, 1959, p. 1.