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SUNDAY 22 JUNE: Its crunch time - bring your A-game.
The lesson to be learned from the above (other than that random cartoons of stick men are hilariously funny, but less so when your psycho flatmate does cheap copies of them in lectures and you’re obliged to laugh. Ahem.) is that taking action and preparing is essential.
Where, you ask, did one such as myself come by this nugget of eternal wisdom? EXAMS. There. I said it. Stop cringing.
That horrible time of year, now just past, when you experience more stress collectively than the rest of the year combined (excluding those times you were late with a crucial-for-DP assignment, or asked a total hottie out) Yeah, its pretty crap. You either stop eating entirely (big plus if you’re a girl, not so much if you’re a guy) or you begin eating like a pregnant hippo carrying sextuplets (bad all round), your hair falls out, your nails start splitting, your wardrobe goes from trendy and chic to baggy tracksuits and slippers – its just a manky state of affairs.
And then, there’s the fact that you actually have to study. It’s a much-discussed topic for me, but for all those people who STILL labour under the misconception that students go to university to study, you’re wrong. I’m sorry. It has been empirically proven that students are genetically incompatible with studying. It’s like putting a fish in middle of the Sahara Desert and asking it to not only survive, but make a success of itself, work hard, have no social life and leave said desert with a degree and several job prospects. Just not gonna happen. Fish chokes and dies. (Much like the current Italian football team)
Of course there are exceptions to every rule (like those freaky disgusting catfish they had on the news the other day that can actually survive out of water for a few hours and “crawl” across land to new rivers, etc.) and some students not only like studying, but thrive on it. They hate sunlight and loud music and much prefer the quiet, dimly lighted interior of a library to the beach or a club. They have few friends and less of a life and so, studying is their natural ally – an excuse as to why they never go to Tiger, or socialize at all, but sit in bed reading Sci-fi/varsity textbooks or playing DotA on a network all day. These catfish people, luckily, are rare, and seeing as they inhabit the library, you probably won’t have to deal with them much.
The name “student” is intrinsically misleading – it should really be “young person who escapes parental authority by leaving home for digs/res and likes to party and drink too much and get in trouble with the law for doing socially inappropriate things with friends/members of the opposite sex in public”. But that’s far too long to put on an application form under “job description”, so “student” it is.
That said, every year at a certain time, for every subject our parents have paid through their necks for us to (not) study, we students must be examined on the material we have so-called learned during the year. These exams, traumatic though they may be, are necessary to test our learning (read: force us to pick up and read a book for four or so collective weeks in a year) to make sure we are prepared for our eventual employment.
Many students employ different coping methods for exam stress. There are the comfort eaters, who go through roughly a truckload of biscuits and hot chocolate Monday to Friday, and gain at least 12 kilos over exam time. This is a decent litmus test if you’re wondering which of the perfect stick figures in your class has really good genes and which ones just pray to the toilet gods several times a day. (Hint: the ones who rapidly go back to normal after the exam time weight-gain fall into the latter category.)
A certain awesome friend of mine, known only as “Weird Steve” (not because he’s in any way strange or weird, that’s just his name) has a great coping mechanism: Nonchalance. (Rinse. Repeat.) Nothing fazes the guy! The biggest, meanest exams can come and go, but Weird Steve is chilled. He laughs in the face of International Law papers, while the rest of us gnaw on our stationery and look ill. The guy is my hero, but despite trying to be like him, I’m still a wreck before every single paper. Bummer.
Then you get the all-nighters – people who literally drink 15 cups of coffee a day, and do not sleep for 3-day periods while frantically catching up on work that they’ve missed during the semester, sitting hollow-eyed, surrounded by mounds of copied notes and loaned textbooks until the library closes at night, clutching empty, gnawed-on, Styrofoam cups.
Some people, like another mate of mine, get through it by looking good, which by proxy, makes them feel good and combats bad vibes and stress. Of course, it helps when you have the looks and wardrobe of a male model, like said friend, but it’s worth giving some thought to. Have tried it out once, my reasoning being that if I was going to fail, I might as well do it in style, and the paper actually went really well…. The secret to my mate’s success, perhaps?
Some people find the best way to cope is to vent your frustration and stress as naturally as possible. I WISH I could find the girl who walked out of my Psychopathology test venue and screamed her lungs out as soon as she had shut the door behind her, and shake her hand. Well done. My best girlfriend just goes to kickboxing classes (not that she needs any more lessons on how to kick ass!)
The fact of the matter is, whether you cope by some arcane means, or whether you, like me, become a caffeine addicted, socially isolated emotional and intellectual wreck for the 2-3 weeks of exams, its something that cannot be avoided. As the 80’s rock band Killer Pussy (they’re real, google it!) say in their song Teenage Enema Nurses in Bondage “It’s not a very pretty job, but someone’s gotta do it”. And as everyone (except catfish people) knows, cane and cream soda or a huge jug of beer never tastes sweeter than the night after you finish a killer set of exams. The Thursday after Constitutional Law June paper, and the third worst cane hangover in recorded history, is testament to that.
Another lesson learned.
The R-Word
I am white. And I’m proud to say it. Why shouldn’t I be? I don’t baulk at the thought of filling in the “race” column on a form any more than I do the “gender” or “marital status” column. Its simply part of who I am, something that sets me apart as an individual and defines something of who I am, the same way as being female, brunette, and a law student sets me apart from many other people. Why then, do some people still get so touchy at the mention of words such as “black”, or “white”? Or refuse to fill in a race on forms, stating that in the new Rainbow Nation everyone is equal and having to fill in such a column is prejudicial and offensive to them? Race has practically become a swear-word (unless used in the context of F1 or the J&B Met.)
Wake up, South Africa – Apartheid died a long time ago. Sure some people (of all ethnicities) are still stuck in that time, and some are still justifiably hurting over what happened, but the vast majority of South Africans no longer view one’s race as a means of deciding one’s status or worth as a human being. Seeing people of all races occupying a multitude of different positions, from car mechanic to State President, and noting that one’s race does not affect one’s ability to do well (or not to) at such jobs, its hard to believe that anyone who wasn’t born into Apartheid can still harbor such outdated ideas and beliefs. And yet, people get remarkably touchy when defining their race becomes an issue.
A good example of this is that tired old chestnut that seems to rear its head every so often in UCT student conversation – the apparent “segregation” of UCT students socially. We’re a racially integrated campus, and yet if you observe students in a social setting, you notice that white people hang out with white people, black people with black people, coloured people with coloured people, and so on. Why is this a problem though? In my experience at UCT (bearing in mind I come from a Northern Suburbs predominantly white conservative neighbourhood) you learn very quickly, (no matter how you grew up) to open your eyes and your mind, and race actually ceases to become an issue. You don’t look at the skin colour of the people around you as much as their manner, style and generally whether you do or don’t have something in common - which is pretty much the way you would analyse a stranger of your own race. That said, it’s quite natural that some segregation on a cultural basis would take place – people who have grown up in a similar environment tend to have similar social behaviours, and since we are attracted to people with whom we perceive we have something in common, it’s only natural that there would be some degree of racial segregation among students.
However, that does not mean that students of different race groups shy away from each other on a negative basis such as prejudice, or hatred. It has everything to do with similarity on a personal basis – this explains why I am great friends with Themba and Nwabisa, but not with Sibusiso or Andile, why I often talk and socialize with Raihan, Junayd and Nadia, but can’t really identify with Fatima or Fawaaz . Those of us who are friends have similar upbringings, similar values and similar personalities, whereas the people I don’t get are just too far removed from who I am, not because of who they are in terms of skin colour, but because of who they are.
Why are we South Africans so afraid of the r-word? Your race is as intrinsically part of you as your culture, your name and your religion. Without it you wouldn’t be who you are! Anyone who has ever stood still for a moment in a cosmopolitan city such as Cape Town, Johannesburg, London, or New York and observed the panoply of people, each with a different skin colour, bearing, attitude and style, walk past will appreciate how empty the world would be if there was no such thing as race and we were all variations on the same old theme. We should celebrate our diversity and be able to appreciate it without being afraid of causing offence or being thought bigoted or racist – I am fortunate to be in a circle of friends where jokes about “whiteys” (usually directed at me) are taken in good humour, (as is a reply such as “nigga, please!”) and we can comfortably express our differences knowing that we think no less of one another for it.
This, I believe, is what Nelson Mandela truly meant when he spoke of a “Rainbow Nation” in a New South Africa – not a country where, because of the horrendous wrongs of the past, people are afraid to celebrate the uniqueness bestowed upon them by their race, but where everyone can be themselves knowing that we are no longer burdened by the shadow of what was, where we can express our differences, ask our questions, make a few jokes and accept each other without inferring or conferring prejudice, malice, or bigotry. Our motto is “Unity through Diversity” – if we have no diversity, we cannot even attempt to be the multicultural, multiracial democratic nation that the leaders of the past foresaw.
At the end of the day, what should be holding us together – in unity – is our citizenship, the privilege of belonging to this country, South Africa. The diversity is what we ourselves provide, in all our creeds and colours, black, white, brown, whatever…. We’re all different, and we should be proud of that. What binds us together is the fact that as South Africans, our destinies are inextricably linked, no matter what we look like, where we come from, how we dress or talk or conduct ourselves. And that is unity through diversity.
SUNDAY 25 MAY: Varsity Speak, bru.
Day rating: 7/10
This post is dedicated to the amazing ability we students have to create our own dialect of English. In fact, it’s a mishmash of English, Afrikaans, Yiddish, and any number of African languages. Throw in the odd Spanish word, and you have student-speak in Cape Town.
The difficulty with student speak is that nobody else understands it, largely (as I have previously said) because certain words have multiple meaning, depending on the context and tone in which the word is said. For example, “lank” can mean very (that’s a lank kiff oke), or nice (lank sweater bru) or it can be used to express any escalation in degrees of comparison. “Hundreds” can refer to a large number of people (hundreds of people on Jamie stairs) or that something is acceptable (that’s hundreds) or that you are feeling particularly great (I’m feeling hundreds after that surf!)
These are but two examples in a dictionary so uniquely student and South African, which is so rich and vibrant it’s a pity we don’t all speak it. Here are a few more examples to get you started:
Action: any form of sexual gratification, including kissing
Af: disgusting
Amped: excited, keen anticipation
Arb: strange or random
Awe (pronounced ah-WEH): greeting, similar to “hello”, used mostly by coloured students.
Bleak: not good, unfortunate
Bliksem: to hit (I bliksemed him) also an exclamation of anger or used to refer to someone you dislike intensely (the bliksem!)
Bro: term of reference when referring to a male friend
Bru: unisex term of reference, usually referring to a male friend. Often used in conjunction with “awe”.
China: loosely used to refer to a friend, usually male. Used almost exclusively by jocks.
Check: synonym for “look” e.g. “check those hot chicks!”
Chick: loosely used to refer to any female, usually an attractive one
Chop: synonym for “idiot”
Chunder: to throw up, or (n) actual puke.
Cockblocker: (adj) ugly friend of a hot chick who tries to prevent said friend from getting any action
Dack: well-built, muscular
Dig: to like (I dig your shoes)
Diss: (v) to insult, (n) an insult (what a diss!)
Dog: a male slut
Doos: asshole/idiot
Dop: alcoholic beverage
Dude: unisex term of reference, although usually male
Eish: expression used to indicate exasperation or commiseration
Fluff: silly, airheaded female
Game: degree of success with members of the opposite sex
Gatvol: tired of something (expression of annoyance, similar to “fed-up”)
Gay: usually used to indicate homosexuality, but when used by jocks, usually taken to mean lame or pathetic.
Guns: large arms/biceps (male)
Gunshow: when a dack guy wears clothes that show off his impressive biceps
Guy: any male person
Harsh: refers to an unpleasant situation. Expression of commiseration.
“Heavy days”: phrase indicating a serious situation/matter. Appropriate response to someone else’s bad news.
Hectic: degree of comparison (hectic cool night) or an exclamation of amazement (hectic, bru!)
Heya: greeting, similar to “hello”
Hond: (pronounced “hawnt”) someone really ugly or otherwise worthy of degradation
Hoodie: bulky, hooded jacket, usually bearing the name of a university or clothing brand
Hook up: (to have) some kind of sexual experience. Often refers to kissing.
Hot: attractive
Hottie: any attractive person
Jammie: refers either to UCT shuttles/buses, or to Jameson plaza
Jammie stairs: stairs above Jameson plaza, popular place for socialization and skipping class.
Keen: synonym for amped. Can also refer to a nerd, someone who takes academic work too seriously (he/she is keen) or can be used to indicate a positive level of interest (I’m keen to go out)
Kiff: synonym for “cool”
Knob: refers either to the male reproductive organ, or as a colloquialism for “idiot”
Kotch (pronounced “kawtch”): to throw up. Also, as an adjective, meaning disgusting
Lag (pronounced “lugh”): laugh. Usually used in the context of something/someone being pathetic or amusing (what a lag)
Lank: see above paragraph
Las: (v) to leave (las it, bru) or (n) an annoyance or burden (what a las!)
Los: immoral, usually used to refer to chicks who sleep around
Mack: depending on context, to make out with/have sex with (I macked her last night)
Manky: ugly, usually used to refer to persons but also used to indicate general unpleasantness usually relating to something being dirty (manky top that he hasn’t washed all week)
Miff: disgusting
Nada: nothing
Nasty: ugly/unpleasant
Naaaaat: inserted at end of sentence to make it funy/sarcastic. As used in the movie Borat.
Nort: bastardisation of the Afrikaans “nooit”. Used to express surprise/disbelief (ah nort bru!)
Oi: synonym for “hello” or an expression of annoyance/alarm (Oi! Stop that!)
Oi vey: expression of exasperation/despair
Oke: any male person
Over it: state of not caring about something (I’m over it)
Owned: a state of having been convincingly dominated
Parry: stressed, worried
Parrying: worrying, stressing about something
Pissed: depending on context, angry or very drunk
Plank: stupid person
Porky: fat
Proper: extreme degree of comparison (I was proper over it/we were proper fighting)
Ride: car or other vehicular transportation
Rough: harsh or unpleasant (I had a rough night)
Ruggas: the sport of rugby
Siff: very disgusting
Shag: (v) to have sex with
Shot: synonym for “thank you”
Shweet: synonym for “good” or “nice” (shweet ride, bru!)
Six-love: indicates a state of total unconsciousness (he drank 7 tequila shots and passed out, six-love)
Skank: girl with loose morals
Skinnys: skinny jeans (exceptionally tight jeans)
Slops: flip-flops/sandals
Spade: to have sex with (exclusively used by males)
Stoked: happy/excited
Suck: to be uncool/unpleasant (exams suck/this sucks)
‘Sup: contraction of “what’s up”, enquiry into a state of affairs, someone’s wellbeing, or just a general greeting
Suss: to check out (I sussed out the new club, its pretty cool)
Tanked: drunk
Tigering: the act of going out to Tiger Tiger
Tool: stupid person with no sense of originality
Tripping: on drugs/crazy
Vibe: (n) a state of being (good vibe), indication of someone else’s mood/intention (getting a vibe) or indication of plans/mood (what’s the vibe for tonight?)
Votch: disgusting, nauseating or the need to/act of throwing up
Wanker: idiot/asshole
Wasted: usually refers to state of advanced drunkenness, can also be used to mean tired or to refer to a particularly violent death or defeat (I wasted him in ProEvo Soccer 2)
Whipped: a state of giving in to all of a female’s demands because of overwhelming sexual desire and fear that she will withhold sexual favours if displeased
Yaaaasis: (alt spelling “jaaaasis”) exclamation of indignation/frustration/surprise.
Yoh: synonym for the above
Yo: greeting, similar to “hello”
WEDNESDAY 14 MAY: The Year of the Dog
Day rating: 8/10
Why such a good day? Minimal encounters with the Grinch, and romance. Aside from that, study slogging sucks and definitely going to fail everything on Friday. But right now, too tired and over life to care!
One thing you can be certain of on campus (besides anorexic girls from ‘maritzburg, and rain) is that sometime in your illustrious varsity/college career, you will encounter a dog. No, not the friendly, four-legged, tail-wagging kind – I’m talking about the guy who wrings his fun out of life by making out with and sleeping with as many girls as is humanly possible, and breaking the hearts of most if not all of his conquests.
The dog, much like his animal namesake, comes in several breeds. The most prominently noticeable is the Jock. Now, to be clear, not all jocks are dogs. But a certain type of dog disguises himself as a jock. The Jock is your quintessential manly man: he plays rugby, water polo and other manly sports, he wears Lacoste golf shirts, baggy three-quarters and Guess sweaters, he gyms continuously and if not on steroids, is at least a regular consumer of creatine and protein shakes.
He is ruggedly good looking and usually quite loud and vulgar, and can be heard a mile off conversing loudly with his “boys” in “jock-speak”, for example: “yaaaasis bru, I got so wasted last night! Got home and I was chundering everywhere bru, my folks were so bleak, I passed out six-love, but I woke up this morning and felt hundreds.”
The Jock also has a string of female admirers – he may have a girlfriend, but will cheat on her regularly and sadly, she often accepts this as her fate. He completely objectifies women and considers them interchangeable at best. His masculine good looks, deliciously ripped body and sports prowess unfortunately mean that he has a never-ending supply of smitten ladies trailing in his wake for him to seduce, use and throw away.
Then there’s the Smooth dog. This guy could charm the pants off Ellen DeGeneres. He knows exactly what to say, and when to say it. He seems to know every woman’s idea of a perfect date and will take you to watch beautiful beach sunsets followed by sundowners, sushi and cocktails; he will bring you flowers (and not those crappy ones they sell at Spar, a proper bunch of roses) and he will bring your mother flowers, he’s educated and stylish but definitely masculine and he showers you with attention – until he gets tired of you, that is.
Suddenly, he doesn’t sms, he doesn’t call and he doesn’t reply to any attempt to contact him. You cant seem to find him on campus and are beginning to wonder if alien abductions are real, when you spot him, wrapped around a gorgeous blonde who seems to be holding… no…. yes! A BUNCH OF ROSES. Your only consolation is that she, too, will be replaced in a week or so.
The Chameleon might sound more reptile than dog (which is not far off) but don’t be fooled – he’s the sneaky one. This guy flies so far under the radar it would take a frigid SS Gestapo fraulein to even come close to spotting him. He’s good-looking in an unassuming, scruffy (adorable) way and to outsiders, appears to think he has no game at all. He doesn’t flirt, and is self-effacing, allowing you to do all the flattering and accepting complements with a shy, VERY sexy smile.
He seems amazed that you even notice him. He will protest his uselessness right up until the point where you make out (or whatever else happens) and then, once he’s had enough of you, will drop you like a ton of bricks and in about 3 hours, all of campus will know how awesome you think he is, the nature and content of every complement you ever paid him, how you assured him multiple times that he’s devastatingly hot, and that he just dumped you for someone else. Bastard.
The Politician is probably the biggest asshole of them all. This guy is arrogant and completely obsessed with power. He’s much like the Smooth dog in that he’s a real charmer, but whereas the Smooth dog’s world revolves around himself, the Politician is all about climbing the success ladder. This guy only targets women who can advantage him or his career; if you’re a somebody on the varsity newspaper editorial staff, or are involved in the students council or student political parties, beware.
Although not your conventional hottie, he is good-looking, but what really sells him is his self-assurance and the air of confidence he projects. He sometimes dates random women for their trophy status, but this never lasts, and he mostly targets girls he thinks will get him somewhere, or who need to be gotten out of the way. Either way, once he has what he wants or your reputation is history, so is he.
Finally, there is the most dangerous dog of all. The Swiss Army dog. He is so named, because much like those Swiss army pocket knives everyone had about 10 years ago, he has a combination of skills that allow him to do anything and everything. He is a mixture of the best parts of all types of dog, and as such, is the most dangerous of them all.
The Swiss is very difficult to spot, not only because he often uses the self-effacing “I don’t really have game” tactics of the Chameleon, but also because he doesn’t completely conform to any of the known dog types. He is all of them and none of them at the same time. He is enough of a jock to attract any woman with hormones, but not offensively masculine – chances are, he plays for the second, or even third rugby side. He is ruthlessly efficient, combining the Smooth dog’s cunning and charm with the jock’s masculine arrogance, the Politician’s confidence and the Chameleon’s “I don’t really have game” attitude in exactly the right mixture – he’s irresistible.
Unlike the Jock, who is discernible by his complete lack of academic concern (read: intelligence), the Swiss usually studies a moderately difficult course – BA politics, economics and philosophy, or a Bcom degree are good indicators. Chances are he’s well known around campus for his involvement in a society and/or sport, and is moderately well-read. He seems to know exactly what you want, but unlike the Smooth dog, he messes up sometimes – but never too seriously, and he’s always so apologetic that you can’t stay angry for long.
His one downfall is John Tucker syndrome, something that many dogs develop as a result of becoming too confident in their super-seduction abilities. For those of you who haven’t seen the movie I’ll make this quick and painless: a dog suffering from John Tucker syndrome has the belief that he can juggle several girlfriends at once.
This often works for a short period of time, but he inevitably trips up somewhere, and winds up alone. Sadly, the Swiss dog is increasingly developing the ability to bounce back from such a disaster – he finds women who feel sorry for him, and pretends to turn over a new leaf. Little do they realize that the Swiss dog thinks only of himself, and is completely incapable of seeing a woman as anything other than a piece of meat.
By now, you’re probably wondering if I’ve ever been taken in by a dog. Honestly, yes, I have. I was targeted by a Swiss dog not too long ago, and if I hadn’t recognized him just in time, would have had my heart shattered. Luckily, thanks to his amazing guide I saw him for what he was – I recognized his Chameleon tactics and even though (thanks to the influence of one too many double cane-and-cream sodas) things got hairy, I managed to keep it all in perspective. And completely flatten his ego the next day when he tried to exert his evil dog-influence over me and get some action. He’s still waiting for me to get back to him, and you know what? Its never gonna happen. I can’t say I’ve vanquished him, or that he even cares about me in the face of the overwhelming female interest he receives, but my dignity and pride are still 100% intact. In fact, some people have suggested that I used him. It’s a nice thought.
Wait……… what does that make me?!
