On Dit 84.4 by On Dit

i n s i d e : r o b l a w r y ta k e s a b at h w i t h g u y s e b a s t i a n , s e a n n o t t l e i s

angry about socialists, and galina murina teaches us self love

uofa student magazine

- issue 84.4

Editorial Correspondence Whatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s On President Reports Vox Pop Articles Artist Profile Creative Reviews Diversions

02 03 04 06 08 10 24 38 44 46

On Dit is a publication of the Adelaide University Union. We recognise that the Kaurna people are the landowners and custodians of the Adelaide Plains. Ngaldu tampinthi Kaurna miyurna yarta mathanya Wama Tarntanyaku. Editors: Lur Alghurabi, Natalie Carfora, and Celia Clennett Sub-Editors: Karolinka Dawidziak-Pacek, Grace Denney, Brydie Kosmina, and Seamus Mullins Designers: Chelsea Allen, Anna Bailes, Daniel Bonato, and Georgia Diment Social Media Offier: Nicole Wedding Hugs to Carina Stathis for her Sunday morning copy-editing services <3 Front Cover: Delia Chin Inside Back Cover: Stephen Lang Back Cover: Anonymous Published: 26/04/2016

EDITORIAL

Hey you,

Hi there,

Hello darling,

Four editions into On Dit, I’ve learned a lot of things: how to sleep on any surface any time; how to pretend to know big words; how to stick ‘You should write for us’ in any conversation including with my grandmother in Baghdad. But more importantly, I’ve now learned how to survive being poor (p. 17), how to worry about that even after I die (p. 18) and why I shouldn’t try turning a cute little mouse into a zombie (p. 38). But I still want to learn a whole lot more, and I want to learn it from you. You should write for us.

As I am sure you’re aware we recently moved office! Yay! The moving process included a lot of cleaning and dust and spiderwebs, the latter two which covered decades of On Dit history. It was So Cool seeing all these magazines – from a 1990s board game called ‘Manopoly’ to awesome Don Dunstan 1970s covers to 1940s magazines talking about Hitler as it happened. At risk of sounding lame, I love that we are making this history. I hope that one day in the future when the magazine is full colour and there are e-robots doing the distribution instead of me and I am a frozen head in a glass case, that a future editor blows the dust off of the cover of the very magazine in your hands and thinks, ‘wow, imagine a world where we don’t write in a combination of memes and emojis.’

Over the break we have finally moved office! You can find us on the fourth floor of Union House. We hope to be more approachable now we are out of the basement. Since we are no longer in a convenient place to store bodies, we have everything that constitutes a great office space. We even have a kitchen sink!

Never lose your charm,

Anyway, that’s just a little dream of mine.

Since I’ve arrived back in Adelaide I’ve been frantically assimilating knowledge of how to edit for On Dit from Natalie and Lur. One of the most satisfying jobs at On Dit is distributing the final copies of the magazine. You may have seen me around awkwardly squeaking along with my little hand-trolley stacked with magazines. Sometimes I struggle to place the magazines before people are already picking them up! But seeing people engaged as they are reading or snatching editions with a smile is a strong reminder of how many people may read these editorials; apologies for going full meta.

Lur

Nat

Celia

Also, I’d like to thank all the angels from heaven who open doors for me when they see me pushing a trolley with hundreds of copies of On Dit. You are the unsung heroes of the 21st Century, and I appreciate you very much. You are Nutella in the form of a lovely human.

CORRESPONDENCE The author’s problem is the persistent openness of socialists. They claim that a handful of students who stand outside –trying to petition to oppose fee hikes and prompt conversations with like-minded people– is “confronting”. This isn’t confronting. The fact that refugees can be deported to Nauru is confronting. The fact that student poverty is at record heights, and forcing many to skip meals or go dumpsterdiving, is confronting.

sipping coffee. No good thing in history has been won like that. Last year, Socialist Alternative led a protest campaign against the fascistic, Islamophobic “Reclaim Australia”. This had a real-world impact, diminishing the confidence and numbers of the far-right and their mobilisations. A large, confident far-right unquestionably leads to a rise in street-level racist violence. By promoting counterprotests on campus and organising students to take a stand, we were able to fight back. We sent racists home with their tails between their legs. We achieved something real.

Anyway, I’ll address the political argument buried beneath these fantasies. The author writes:

The only way to counter this brutal reality is for like-minded people to get together and do something.

If you want to be involved in this, please come up and chat! If not, decline and keep walking.

‘I think it’s fantastic to see you passionate

It’s not enough to chat politics while

- Jack Crawford.

RESPONSE TO STOP THE LOBBYISTS (P. 12 OF THIS EDITION) Much of this article, in trying to discredit socialists on campus, consists of attacks on the clothing and (speculated) diets and recreational habits of its target. I assume that readers recognise this as lacking substance. Otherwise, it rests on the claim that socialists “force” people into conversations –even people who express disinterest– as some “aggressive recruitment tactic.” This is especially bizarre. We would have nothing to gain from doing so.

about something. I just wish you could see its okay to do that by yourself. To be active in the private and not feel the need to inform the public.’

WHAT’S ON

Draw Your (S)Words 6th May 5pm - 9pm Ancient World $5 entry Open mic spoken word event Politics in the Pub with Dr Richard Denniss 12th May 6:30pm - 8pm The Jade Monkey Gold coin donation for students Tasting Australia 1st - 8th May All over Adelaide! For locations and events see www.tastingaustralia.com.au

UNI RELATED

HUNGRY? BROKE?

New Sounds for an Old Room 26th April 6:30pm - 9pm Barr Smith Reading Room

DoNut Freak Out! 4th May 12:30pm - 2pm Pfitzner Court Free donut and hot dog lunch for first year Arts students.

Undergrad Exchange Information Session 5th May 11am - 12pm Hub Central Seminar Room Need an excuse to spend a semester in Europe? Look no further. Film Club Every Thursday night Week 7: How’s Moving Castle Week 8: Zodiac 7pm in Union Cinema $3 for Non-Members

Adelaide Vegan and Foodie Picnic 30th April 12:30pm Bonython Park Smoking BBQ in the Shed 30th April 12pm - 7pm Big Shed Brewing Concern It’s a barbecuing competition… What more do you want? AUES BBQ 6th May 12pm Barr Smith Lawns Free for Members $10 Membership

ARE YOU A BIT OF A KNOW IT ALL? DO YOU KNOW WHAT’S ON BEFORE EVERYONE ELSE? KEEP US IN THE LOOP, EMAIL US AT ONDIT@ADEL AIDE.EDU.AU AND TELL US ABOUT THE NEXT BAKE SALE, MEETING, PRIVATE LECTURE OR CLUB EVENT.

GOT CULTURE?

WHAT ELSE IS ON?

ARTS

History Festival 1st - 31st May 3:30pm - 8pm Get your history fix when all of the heritage sites in Adelaide open their doors. For more details see www.historyfestival.sa.gov.au

Adelaide Zero Waste Movement- Meeting #1 5th May at 6 PM The Joinery 111 Franklin St

Try Pottery with Adelaide Potters’ Club 30th April at 10:30 AM Unley Town Hall 181 Unley Road $5 per person. Bookings Essential.

University of Adelaide Theatre Guild presents: The Two Gentlemen of Verona 7th, 10th-14th, 17th-21st May 7:30pm Little Theatre at the Cloisters $28 Adult / $23 Concession History, Science and Fun of Variable Stars 4th May 8pm Kerr Grant Lecture Theatre Free Lecture

Candlelight Vigil For Victims of Domestic Violence 4th May at 5:30 PM - 6:30 PM Elder Park

Who Made My Clothes? Q&A Discussion 29th April 5:30pm - 7:30pm Adelaide City Library

Activism After Dark Forum by Amnesty International 26th April at 7 PM Exeter Hotel DO YOU LIKE US? Issue 6 (IdentiDit) submission deadline Friday 6th May

SAY HELLO! Email: ondit@adelaide.edu.au Facebook: @onditmagazine Twitter: @onditmagazine Instagram: @onditmag In Person: George Murray basement, down the creepy stairs near the Barr Smith Lawns

STATE OF THE UNION

Hey all! I would like to write this column about clubs. The obvious benefit of joining a club is the impact that it will have on your social life. You will meet people who share an interest with you, and you will widen your social network beyond your course and the people you live with. There are three main types of clubs. Some of the most well-known are the sports clubs, which encourage competition between universities. There are also clubs based around specific schools within the university. These enable a more informal step into academia, through guest speakers, field trips and extracurricular activities. Finally, there are some miscellaneous clubs such as circus skills or cheerleading, and clubs that involve setting up a business or working in the local community. The Union organises and manages all social clubs on campus and the University Sports organises all sports clubs. The Union provides rooms for clubs to meet, equipment and resources that can be booked for use by clubs, and grants to help clubs stage events or buy things they need. The Union helps social clubs

with administration, infrastructure and event advice and promotional support. We also coordinate Clubs activities during O’Week. Clubs give you a great chance to enhance your employability. Even if you aren’t an active member of a student society with an administrative position, you will demonstrate a number of qualities simply by becoming a member. Firstly, you will be a team player who is able to show commitment to fellow members of the society. Secondly, by succeeding in your academic work alongside your participation in a society, you will demonstrate time management skills and come across as a well-rounded individual. All societies depend on events for their success, such as meetings, matches, competitions, trips and fundraising events. Consequently, if you’re an organiser or officer of your society, you will develop lots of experience and expertise in event planning and organisation. Some of the concerns I had about clubs when I was a first year were that clubs can sometimes seem intimidating and close-knit, particularly if they’re involved in producing something, be it a

magazine, theatre show or concert. As a first year, I felt too shy to speak up. Don’t give up on these societies, they’ll be really eager to have new members and want to hear your input, just don’t be afraid to voice it. A common regret for many graduates is not joining a club or society, and that shouldn’t be you. It is never too late to join. Whatever your passion or interest, it’s bound to be represented in some form by a club. Of course, you’ll have to drag yourself out of bed and into club events to find out! Renjie Du auupresident@auu.org.au

SRC PRESIDENT

Like the clown paintings of serial killers, the Liberals’ plans for students have given us an insight into their creative streak that nobody really wanted to have. Dante’s poetic imagination filled the afterlife with all manner of wacky and wonderful reflections on the world we live in. In the world of current government, death for students is much like life: paying off enormous debts. Rather than following the rich to their offshore accounts, with 800 Australians named in the scandalous Panama Papers and accused of hiding wealth, they’d rather follow students beyond the grave with proposals to collect HECS from deceased estates worth more than $100,000. We’re told education shouldn’t be free because of the individual monetary benefits for graduates. In the Liberal imagination, this benefit can exist even when you are earning nearly $18,000 below the average yearly wage of $59,740 as outlined by the Australian Bureau of Statistics, with proposals to lower the HECS repayment threshold to just $42,000. Poor and struggling? You too can have the opportunity to pay more tax than Qantas did in 2015. That would

be $0, according to the Australian Taxation Office. If you’re not earning enough don’t worry, because another proposal is to measure the HECS repayment threshold by family income. Even if you didn’t study at university you will get the chance to pay off student debt by entering into a relationship with someone who did. All these proposals are designed to solve a hallucinated problem. The Liberal Party is warning of a $180 billion student debt black hole in the next ten years, but this figure is reached by taking into account the effects their policy of fee deregulation would have on student debt. This is the policy that would see $100,000 degrees become a reality. It is also a policy that has twice been rejected by the senate. If they want to stop student debt spiraling out of control, perhaps they should stop trying to push through unpopular measures that would see students paying more for education. It is worth looking at what stopped the last round of Liberal attacks on students. The popular opposition to fee deregulation, reflected in the senate votes, followed a campaign of protests and stunts coordinated by

the National Union of Students. As students, we need to replicate the positive aspects of this campaign in response to the latest round of attacks. This year we’ve seen protests confronting Liberal politicians. They have put some fire into the campaign, but we’ve got to keep up the fight against whatever nasties find their way into the budget. With an election approaching students need to come out strong. This also means not just lining up behind one party or another. While the Liberals are clearly no friends of students, the Labor party has as bad a record. A few years ago they were pushing deregulation and massive cuts to funding. Their position changed following the campaign of students, but we’ve got to maintain our campaign to ensure they keep that position. The SRC is supporting this ongoing national campaign. With an action planned one week after the budget on 11th May, I encourage all students to get involved in fighting for our rights. Tom Gilchrist srcpresident@auu.org.au

VOX POP

ANDRE

ADAM

ELISE

4TH YR, LAW/ ENGLISH

3RD YR, LAW

MSTR, ACC./FINANCE

1. Capitalism for sure.

1. Capitalism

2. Killer rabbit of Caerbannog.

2. An octopus, not that they need brains as they’re very smart

1. Maybe capitalism? Some countries like China are socialisy but actually they have a similar capitalisy system so it’s hard to say.

3. Saint Vincent

2. Insects - like spiders.

4. No - it would be disrespectful

3. Jackie Chan, I only like him, but I would still take a bath with him.

5. Moderately

4. It depends on the aim. I think if they just want to dress in that culture then that’s okay, but if there is a bad meaning to look down at the culture then I’d say it’s not right.

3. Rey from Star Wars. 4. Yay, how else can you to the rain dance? 5. Goddamn so efficient.

5. Actually, this is first day of study since the start of the break.

1. CAPITALISM OR SOCIALISM? 2. WHAT WOULD BE THE MOST TERRIF YING ANIMAL TO TURN INTO A ZOMBIE? 3. WHICH POP STAR WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE A BATH WITH? 4. NATIVE AMERICAN HE ADDRESSES AT MUSIC FESTIVALS, YAY OR NAY AND WHY? 5. HOW EFFICIENT WERE YOU OVER THE MID TERM BRE A K?

LUKE

INTISAAR

NUR

1ST YR, ARTS/EDUCATION

3RD YR, COMMERCE

1. Capitalism 2. Any sort of pet really. I think that would kill most people. It would be emotionally devastating! 3. One that is charming and interesting enough to talk to. It’s going to be awkward afterall. 4. Sure why not. 5. Not very.

1. In the middle, but more towards socialism. 2. A spider, but I think any animal with a lot of legs; even a caterpillar could be scary. 3. Shailene Woodley 4. I guess it’s okay for expression, or fashion expression. 5. Well I’ve only read the assignment, that’s my productivity.

1. Socialism 2. I’m terrified of dogs, like if they jump on you. People see them as pets after all. 3. Stana Katic 4. Maybe if you’re interested in getting to know other cultures. 5. No, not very much.

THE DAMAGING NATURE OF CULTURAL APPROPRIATION WORDS AND ART WORK BY: EMMA FERR ARO

All people hold unconscious racist attitudes that have been ingrained in us since birth. In particular, white people are often socialised to be racist, as racism is a dominant Western ideology. In a system of hierarchical racism, white people benefit from racism, and from the privilege resulting from being white. One of the most unconscious forms of racism is cultural appropriation. Culture appropriation is defined as, ‘the adoption or use of elements of one culture, by a different culture.’ Primarily, it’s white people taking traditions/beliefs/items from one culture, and bastardising it for personal gain. This is often in a way that reinforces damaging racial stereotypes, leading to discrimination, objectification, violence, and oppression of the original group. Cultural appropriation is when items of significance are taken out of their cultural context and their original meaning is changed. They

are no longer accessible to the group they belong to. An extreme example is the swastika: originally a Buddhist symbol of prosperity and luck, the Nazis appropriated it, and it is now recognised as a sign of racism. However, more modern examples include the guy wearing a Native American headdress at a music festival, the girl wearing a bindi at WOMAD, the person on campus with dreadlocks, or the white musician wearing a sari in her music video. Acts of cultural appropriation have become so normalised and standard, that we don’t even recognise them as racist. The problem is that these cultural traditions are not for your personal gain. They are not to make a fashion statement. You don’t know anything about the historical and traditional context of the culture, and your appropriation shows that you don’t care to. People of colour (POC) often spend their lives being bullied for displaying their cultural traditions, and they

shouldn’t have to see them being celebrated on a white person. Cultural appropriation is most strongly normalised by celebrities. Kylie Jenner is one of the world’s most talked-about celebrities, and she’s a white girl trying to be black. She’s living in brown face and commodifies black women’s bodies. While black girls are oppressed, discriminated against, objectified, and abused for these features, Kylie is glorified. This happens everywhere. Miley Cyrus can use black women as props, wear grills, and have cornrows, and she’s considered iconic. Gwen Stefani, Katy Perry, and Avril Lavigne can use Asian women as “props” to sell their music and make a profit, and then dismiss them as a passing trend. Yet, as a consequence, cultural traditions are undermined and stereotyped, which then reinforces harmful attitudes. All Asian women are ‘submissive’. All black people are ‘ghetto.’ Using other

people’s cultures for self-expression is white privilege. Exploiting others’ cultures for personal benefit is not a tool for survival, nor a celebration of POC culture. It is furthering the misrepresentation, generalisation, and discrimination against other cultures. When considering cultural appropriation against non-white cultures, one might ask, ‘is there such thing as “white” culture?’ Some people might say that white culture is Starbucks, Ugg boots, and hair-straighteners. Or is it white people under-seasoning their food, using Ouija boards, and claiming that they’re not racist, ‘because I have a black friend’? White culture originates from colonisers invading land, and then forcing the indigenous people to adopt their culture. This is typically referred to as ‘assimilation,’ when a subordinate group is forced to assume the norms of a dominant culture to survive. The adoption of white culture by subordinate groups whose land and

traditions were taken from them is not cultural appropriation, because you can’t appropriate a dominant culture. What is now considered the ‘standard’, ‘everyday’ culture, particularly in Western societies, is the default white culture. You cannot oppress or discriminate against white culture. So why do some white people refuse to acknowledge their privilege and why do they want to be oppressed? Some people call this reverse racism. Now, I am going to say this a little louder for the people in the back: THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS REVERSE RACISM. Reverse racism is when POC mock white people for being white. When a POC makes a joke about white people, it isn’t damaging to their livelihood. This is not equivalent to a comment that supports damaging racial stereotypes, furthering the oppression, prejudice, and violence. You cannot compare this to centuries of enslavement, invasion, and genocide, while continuing to

suffer the effects of racism in society. White people live with the privilege of being born white in a whitedominant culture and society. If you’re offended over a joke about white people having infinity ring tattoos and say that someone’s racially stereotyping you, when at the same time a black man can be murdered by a white cop for being black, then you really need to reevaluate yourself. Generalisations of white people don’t get them killed. There is a privilege to being white and power that comes with it. Your refusal to educate yourself is no excuse for your ignorance. It’s important to recognise that even if you are white, and have been oppressed in other ways, you still have advantages that POC do not. However, when you acknowledge your racism, actively educate yourself, and correct your assumptions, that’s when you become part of change. Emma Ferraro is openly biracial.

STOP THE LOBBYISTS: OPEN LETTER TO SOCIALIST ALTERNATIVE WORDS BY: SEAN NOT TLE ART WORK BY: LUR ALGHUR ABI

At precisely mid-morning on Monday I was robbed. What you may ask was stolen? My wallet? My Free Entry to Zhivago’s card? No, it was my morning, stripped from me by a short altercation with what I’ve come to learn are a persistent and passionate group of unruly youths, Socialist Alternative (SAlt). To the best of my knowledge, SAlt are just like any other society here on Campus. Their weapon of choice, the Red Flag newspaper is really like any other newsletter that I see floating around the Cloisters and eventually the bin. I won’t debate its content, because I’m here to draw attention to the process by which they try to engage the public with their crusade. This brings me back to Monday morning. Being the archetypal university slouch that I am, (I once used a laser pointer to entice my cat to turn my light off because I didn’t want to leave the bed), the pathway to the Hub was almost the last place I wanted to be. So when my thoughtful foray into how I was going to tackle this semester, and why glue doesn’t stick to the inside of the bottle, I was quite put out.

‘A Copy of Red Flag?’ posed the overbearing youth who’d forgotten to shave and whose attire told me he hadn’t been home since Black Market that Friday. In step with me, shoulder to shoulder, he was seemingly unaware his presence was unwanted and invasive. I’m sure that at this point, you and I both have a collection of retorts that we use interchangeably: ‘I don’t speak English; I’m in a bit of a hurry; I’ve already got one; Go away; I love Tony Abbott’. For those of you who just lower their head and keep walking, I applaud you. You give less of a hoot than I do. In the end, I glowered at the kale muncher and continued on ahead. Now my response was not met with hostility. But when their advances are rebuffed with more than silence, things can get nasty. For example, I once decided to retort back to ‘Do you hate Capitalism?’ with a not-sosubtle ‘No but I hate you pestering me every Monday’. This was met by an even less subtle ‘Well you can f **k off then’ to which I replied ‘That’s not very nice’ as I continued to walk on ahead. At this point I expected the conversation to cease and for him

to move onto another target, but he went on with a ‘Yeah keep walking, I’ll see you next Monday, and every day after that’ which amused me slightly because I think it means he likes me in Socialist Speak. I glowered and moved on, not wanting more of this Pester-Gate, but it was in vain. So once I’d dismissed Black Market Boy I was confronted again by a ghost in a green leather coat. ‘Hi, how are you today?’ What?! Polite? Check. Kind of cute in a mod rocker, eastern suburbs rebel cross? Check? Could this be… ‘Are you aware of the bigotry in Australian politics?’ Ah nope, there it is, somethings are too good to be true. I dismissed her with a conciliatory glance. Do you see the problem here? I do understand the implied freedom of political; I’ve watched Q&A controversies unfold in between flicking through MasterChef and I get that people have different views. I’m not a staunch anything, if at all I agree with common sense. And don’t recite to me that different people have different views on common sense. it’s common, you belligerent

antagonist: the majority think it’s acceptable reasoning. Even after recognising that everybody has a right to their opinion, I’m still angry. Not because I disagree with SAlt’s views, because I do think equality would be okay, I think racism is bad, and I think you should marry whoever you want. But what I don’t agree with is invasive, intimidating and harassing the public just to preach a point. Having my passion and intellect insulted by members of an organisation that preaches amongst all the ‘liberalism is akin to Satanism’ crap, equality and fairness is downright contradictory. If I feel strongly enough about the cause you are spruiking I will endeavour to get off the couch, pause my third re-run of House of Cards and do something about it. I’m a fully qualified adult with a diploma of responsibility majoring in tidying my bedroom. If I think not enough is being done to support the refugees, or not enough Liberal hate is being preached, I will spread the word. But it’s not like I don’t know the issues are out there, so if you try to counter

this argument with something like ‘we are just trying to educate people,’ then no. People are aware of everything you’re talking about. That’s why they’re not listening. They just don’t care enough to read a trivial piece of writing penned by some disgruntled supporter of this cause or that (I understand the certain irony to this statement, but I’m too disgruntled to care). If I want change, I will actively seek it out; I do not need to be indoctrinated with it. Have you ever tried to engage with another point of view? Ever pursued a different hobby than just being a “leftist antagonist”? You need balance, you need to believe that your message is out there, that there are people like you somewhere near and that you do not need to brainwash us with your incessant and increasingly aggressive recruitment tactics. So here’s my advice to you, the alternative. Try a different tack. Take off the fair trade clothing, the recyclable jeans, unclip the OXFAM emblazoned helmet, let the one, unshaven side of your hair fall free, and put on some track pants,

a warm hoodie and come inside for some tea. Get some Earl Grey with lots of real sugar and gluttonous milk into you and try to approach us like human beings. Or let us approach you. Either way, have a steak and see things from our point of view. We like a conversation as much as the next person, but we vehemently dislike being forced into one. It’s fantastic to see you passionate about something, but I wish you could see it’s okay to do that by yourself. To be active in the private and not feel the need to inform the public. Maybe then I’ll return your greeting or take your copy of Red Flag. Because if I’m not hearing about it, not being saturated with it day after inexorable day, I might start to wonder if something is wrong, and what is the alternative to mainstream media. But for now: I would really just like my Monday morning back.

Read the response by active socialist Jack Crawford on page 3.

I QUIT SUGAR (SORT OF) WORDS BY: BRYDIE KOSMINA ART WORK BY: GENEVEIVE BR ANDENBERG

I love sugar. My two favourite foods in the whole world are ice cream and hot chips (not necessarily together, but…). Sugar is great. Sweet things are great. Food is great. I’m hungry. Damn it. I’ve never been big on crash/fad diet things; food is delicious and I’d rather exercise more so I can eat more. So, all of the above in mind, for some reason I decided to try this “I Quit Sugar” diet for a week and see how it went. I have been wanting to get back on the healthy eating train, maybe this will kickstart it? TL;DR; it didn’t, I’m eating Nutella from the jar as I type this. The no sugar diet thing has been around forever, but in its current incarnation it seems to be mainly along the lines of the “I Quit Sugar with Sarah Wilson” model. According to the website for IQS, the ‘bad sugar’ is fructose because “fructose is almost exclusively metabolised by our liver … fructose promotes fat storage in and around the liver … our brain doesn’t have the same ‘off switch’ for fructose as it does with glucose… and fructose is highly addictive and twice as sweet as glucose.” The whole point of this IQS is to #JERF ( Just Eat Real Food). To me, JERFing sounds like some new form of sexual

activity when you masturbate on a cliff. (I know nothing about biology or chemistry or whatever, and, tellingly, there weren’t many links to verified source on the website, so I don’t know if those claims about fructose versus glucose hold). So basically, no sugar. For the first four weeks, that includes fruit. FRUIT. I CAN’T EAT FRUIT. No honey, no chocolate, no sugar in my coffee, no artificial sweeteners like Stevia. Nothing. In the interests of disclosure; I was coming off a bad cold when I started, and I’m not counting the 6 kilos of throat lozenges I ate. The oranges and Vitamic C tablets don’t count either. Hush, I just really like fruit. DAY 1 Bleh. Snuffly and a sore throat, and I let my boyfriend make me tea. Forgot to tell him not to put honey in it, so I’ve literally fucked this up within an hour of starting ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Wanted Nutella on toast. Had Vegemite instead. Disappointed IN THE EXTREME. I don’t know if I’m allowed tomatoes or not (aren’t they a fruit technically?) but I don’t really care and am eating a massive cheese and tomato sandwich for lunch. Dinner was veggies, which is fine,

I think. Typing this while in bed; I want ice cream so bad, fuck this. DAY 2 Still snuffly, the tea has made way for Lemsip, which is basically hot, sugary, lemon flavoured paracetamol. I literally could not care less, if it makes the difference between being able to speak or not, I’m going to go with the sugar. Sorry Sarah. I skipped lunch, because my throat was too sore to swallow, but I did snack on trail mix, WHICH I HAD TO PICK THE FRUIT OUT OF. This is the saddest I’ve felt in a long time; if you saw a girl in the Hub picking dried cranberries and apricots out of her trail mix, looking depressed, that was me. Dinner was pumpkin and feta risotto and god damn it I love a good butternut pumpkin, so sweet and delicious. I don’t know why pumpkin is allowed but bananas are not. Pumpkin is pretty high in sugar, isn’t it? I mean, I don’t really care whether it is or not, but it doesn’t really make sense? DAY 3 Cold is on the mend, so I started today off well. Vegemite toast and coffee for brekkie, falafel wrap for lunch (not enough hummus; never

enough hummus). Sort of dropped the ball for dinner; I do evening classes for French, and I had a muesli bar for dinner. This was unsatisfying both because it means I ate sugar today and I was so close, and because it was a only fucking muesli bar for dinner. I want ice cream again. DAY 4 CONQUERED TODAY. It might have been because I didn’t have enough money to pay for lunch, and therefore it was much easier to not accidentally eat sugar, but I totally smashed today. Had Vegemite toast and tea for breakfast; had nothing for lunch; had toast for dinner after finishing work late at night. WOO, today is shit. I’m going to sleep and I shall dream of strawberries and ice cream. DAY 5 If I could today wouldn’t count. It was going fine, then I went out for drinks with On Dit friends. I couldn’t remember if alcohol was allowed or not, so I figured I should definitely have a drink. And I decided to really hammer the final nail into the coffin by drinking apple cider. I blame peer pressure from the On Dit editors (I jest, don’t sack me). When I got

home I sat down to watch TV with boyfriend, and ate popcorn. And a Magnum icecream. And chocolate. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I RESTRICT MY DIET; I EAT SHIT LATER. If I was allowed to have fruit or a biscuit or something during the day I probably would’ve had more self-awareness, and not craved sugar! What’s wrong with sugar in small doses! WHY DID I DECIDE TO DO THIS? DAY 6 Work all day, easy to avoid sugar. So close I can taste that first apple. Made it through today completely sugar-free. It was a thoroughly boring day. Cheese and tomato sandwiches are getting old fast. I just want to have fruit and yoghurt or something. Dinner is fine because I tend to eat mainly veggies anyway, but god damn, lunch is hard. And now I’m (still) thinking about ice cream. I mean, come on.

involved. Guarantee. I don’t really get this diet. I am not a scientist, so I have no clue about the claims made about fructose. And yes, I have to make it clear, you only have to cut fruit out for a month. But I think it’s silly to cut any whole food out for a diet, no matter how long. I haven’t lost any weight whatsoever (although if I had lost weight after a week I’d actually be concerned). I don’t feel any different. I feel like I want a banana. Of course, I didn’t really follow this diet properly, and it could be that when done correctly, you’ll feel amazing. I don’t think it’s for me though. Sure, I am happy to cut back on chocolate and sweets and processed sugar; just not every sugar. But maybe I’m just a sugar addict in denial and Sarah Wilson needs to stage an intervention for me. Either way, I’ll do it with an apple in one hand and a jar of Nutella in the other.

DAY 7 THE HOLY DAY HAS COME. IT HAS ARRIVED. Made it through today easily, and now I’m lying in bed thinking about what breakfast I’m having tomorrow. I haven’t finalised it yet but bananas will be

Brydie sent us this article while actually eating Nutella from a jar, because this diet is stupid.

DAWN OF THE DEBT: CENTRELINK HORROR STORIES WORDS BY: JON OVAN

It was a dark and stormy night. Geoff (now a second time student) was randomly audited by Centrelink during his first time through university while on Youth Allowance. At the time, Geoff was in the early stages of his degree and received a surprise letter in the mail. It was not a severed body part, nor a note reading, ‘I know what you did last summer’ – it was worse. The letter detailed that Geoff would be subject to full, random audit, and that he would have to physically report his payslips from the previous year to Centrelink. Usually meticulous in his bookkeeping, Geoff found that all but one of the physical payslips had mysteriously disappeared. You could use addition and subtraction to work out things like gross income, net income and tax. Geoff tried to ring them and explain this, but was told by the voice on the phone that he had to have all of the slips. So he ventured down to the Centrelink office, hoping to be able to speak to someone else, but was still told that I would ‘ just have to find it.’ After ringing the supermarket he worked at, and with his manager unwilling to co-operate, he went back in and explained the situation to a Centrelink manager. Common sense prevailed and Geoff wasn’t cut from his YA.

Kellie wasn’t so lucky: To receive independence when moving from the country, students used to be able to work for 18 months and earn $21,000 in this period. Moving from the Riverland to study, Kellie was under the impression that if she worked for 12 months, but earned the historical requirement of $21,000, she would receive Youth Allowance, allowing her to live and study in Adelaide through Rent Assistance. She went into Centrelink and they conf irmed this. However, it wasn’t until moving to Adelaide and not receiving payments that she was then made aware of the requirements. If it were not for the generosity of her parents, she feels certain she would have been living on the streets; yet she then adds in good humour that it would’ve been ‘good preparation for her life as an artist.’ Kellie lived without financial support from Centrelink until July, and was eventually back paid until May (the 18 month cut off ), after exhausting all savings and relying on parents who were almost unable to financially assist her. Although understanding, Kellie wishes that the proces s w a s ea s ier. ‘ I d id n’t even k now t h at a l l t he paper work w a sn’t r ight , a nd t hey even con f i r med that it was… I received a phone call months later that I wouldn’t be

getting Centrelink, but I’m glad that it all worked out’. v Despite these horror stories, Centrelink workers are notoriously mistreated, overworked and are understandably irritable. Be nice to them and they will make your life a whole lot easier and be more willing to help you. Remember – they are human too. TIPS FOR DEALING WITH CENTRELINK: 1. Go in early. Opening times are the least busy time. Closing times are the most. Don’t sleep through your alarm at 10am. Set one for 7:30am and be there at 8:30am. You’ll have more time with people who can help you and they’ll be (at the start) fresh faced for the day! 2. Be informed. Read all details online. The circumstances of which applied to your sibling/friend/co-worker years ago may have changed, so it’s always a good idea to do your own research on their website. 3. Keep your payslips. Jon enjoys complaining about government assistance while relying upon it to eat. He can be found scowling at payment receipts and human resource websites.

FINANCIAL MANAGEMENT FOR BROKE STUDENTS WORDS BY: MIL AN PODNAR ART WORK BY: EMILY HART

Let’s face it, uni is expensive. Textbooks, stationery, technology and clothing all take a toll on a student’s meagre budget. However, with these financial management tips, you’ll be sure to master your finances. BUY SECOND HAND TEXTBOOKS Second hand textbooks can save you heaps of money. Some prices are up to 50% off RRP of current textbooks which is a great saving. On Facebook, there is a textbook selling page which gets updated nearly every day with new textbooks from every subject. StudentVIP is another online source that has second hand textbooks from all over Australia at affordable prices. Last but not least, our wonderful library can give you the goods if you ask - most textbooks are kept (and with duplicate copies!) SET YOURSELF A WEEKLY SPENDING LIMIT The goals we set, whilst made with best intentions, for weekly spending

can be thrown AWOL by the accidental $15 of food splurge per day, or that item of clothing we’ve been eying for weeks and cave in to purchasing. By setting limits (which are reasonable of course) we can spend appropriately on items we need each week. This can avoid the shock of overspending and impulse buying and in the long run, more money will be saved!

put clothes for the next season on lay-by, pay a small fee and pay the balance off over a given period.

BUY CLOTHES AT CERTAIN TIMES OF THE YEAR

MAKE OR BUY EXTRA FOOD FOR LEFTOVERS

Retailers like to do specials on clothing at the end of seasons or during the end of financial year to sell more items. If you assess the purchase, deem it to be at a great price and therefore likely to sell quickly – snap it up!. However, if your guilt gets the better of you, wait a couple of weeks as some retailers make further reductions or promote specials such asf 50% off clearance items.

Leftover food is your friend. Sometimes going to a nice place to eat can range from $10 to a massive $25+. By grabbing more food or making extra food a day in advance, you can container it, refrigerate it, microwave it, dig in!

Laybys are another effective way to acquire those items you’re after but can’t afford immediately. You can

Finally, Harbour Town is heaven. You can literally find everything and anything there at great prices. Sometimes there stock is from the year before, or the last season and will be discounted down to a cheap price.

If you follow these tips, and wait at certain times of the year, you will be saving more money over time and manage your student budget like a pro. Many people think i am Italian because of my name, i’m actually Croatian and Greek.

THE INTERNATIONAL POWER OF HECS REPAYMENTS WORDS BY: NADINA PAINE ART WORK BY: JACK LOWE

Repaying HECS-HELP is the financial bane of many students, with a lifetime of debt to look forward to after graduating. If you are amongst the other students approaching the end of their degrees, possibly planning on buying property, travelling, or beginning your career, the thought of the dreaded student loan is likely to be influencing some life choices. In my own case, I had a grand master plan – move to England and become a Dartmoor pony whisperer. All sorted, no worries, I could leave my student debt behind, the government unable to track my tax returns overseas, and begin my new career of frolicking on the moors. It was fated not to be. Under new policies, tax information sharing has been established between a number of countries in order to counter the repayment issues. The UK, the USA, and Singapore make up an estimated 40% of destinations for ex-patriot students from Australia, with many

of them not paying back their fees even after earning above the income threshold. Now I’m not here to complain about the HECS-HELP scheme, as it is the only pathway into higher education for many, and this is not my main concern related to overseas graduate loan tracking. When you sign up for HECS-HELP, you agree to repaying your loan under the stated agreements, and so it is justifiable that government are working towards reclaiming that money. What concerns me is that this all started with proposals to recover HECS-HELP debt from deceased students who had not paid off their debt, along with a discussion that sought to reduce the income threshold for repayments. Both of these were rejected, but options raised such as these implies that this could be a revenue raising scheme, rather than a legitimate effort to make students pay their dues. The 2015 budget claims that the money earnt through this scheme

will be upwards of $150 million by 2020, with 6.4 million from strengthened Higher Education Loan compliance, and $241.6 million from strengthened compliance in VET FEE-HELP, with the money made apparently being reinvested into universities. As long as Adelaide doesn’t waste their share on another ridiculously expensive lecture theatre (coughBraggscough) I’m also ok with this. But the facts don’t seem to add up. Let’s take a step back and look at what we are being told about the claim scheme for students who have moved overseas. Problem: The Australian government doesn’t know what overseas graduates are earning, and thus they cannot charge them for their outstanding student loan. So, if the government doesn’t actually know what these graduates are earning, how can they know what the returns for such a project will be? Before I see the

government spending the money it will undoubtedly take to track down these graduates, I would like to know where they produced their estimated revenue figures from, and how they plan on implicating the debt claiming better than their foreign counterparts. The transparency does not seem to be there, and as we can see from similar New Zealand and UK schemes to claim student loans in a similar way, they are not wholly effective. There are approximately 60% of New Zealanders who have moved overseas and are not paying their debts, and 25% of UK graduates, proving that such a course of action is not as foolproof as the government would have us believe. Indeed, the proposed course of action appears to target future students who are more vulnerable to fee deregulation, and might desperately want to escape debt â&#x20AC;&#x201C; rather than tackling the governmentâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s stated concerns regarding current fee dodgers living overseas.

TAKING BATHS WITH POP STARS WORDS BY: ROB L AWRY ART WORK BY: JOSH MORROW

As a mildly beloved radio personality I have to deal with celebrities on occasion. Trendy gossip magazines – this publication included – tend to portray their famous subjects as the mere cumulation of fashion faux pas and sex scandals, but I’ve learned to see celebrities as actual people. I believe they deserve the same impartial representation in the tabloids that all you regular citizens receive, so when On Dit offered me the chance to interview a cohort of today’s biggest pop stars in the bath, I pounced on it! *** First up, I had the chance to share a bath with up-and-coming songstress Ivy Levan. That I should find myself sitting in the tub with the voluptuous singer would be surprising, as she is only in the early stages of stardom. Thankfully, she is not too starstruck. The tub is filled to the near brim with bubbles as I begin to ask Ms Levan about her morning routine: IL: I wake up at about 7 am and I go for a quick jog around my neighbourhood. RL: No breakfast? IL: I’m one of those people who can’t eat first thing, you know? I have to do something beforehand. RL: Oh yeah, I know somebody like that.

Immediately I see there is more to Ivy than meets the eye and I begin to understand the gravity of this role of mine, interviewing pop stars in the bath and such. These artists are relying on me for their credibility and none more so than my next subject, Australia’s own Guy Sebastian. For most magazines, sitting down in a bathtub with Guy Sebastian would be a chance to pry him for details about his two young sons, but as I disrobe to join him, I am not interested. Instead I see a man who enjoys the simple things in life, such as his lone rubber duck and some ocean sounds on tape. RL: I notice you’re still using a tape player for this ambience track. GS: Yeah, I’ve had that for years. It still works fine and if it gets wet there’s no dramas. RL: The tape, is that Seashore Sunrise by Tony O’Connor? GS: Good ear! Yeah, nah it’s one of my favourite albums. Guy goes on to say he had hoped to perform the cassette’s signature track, ‘Spirit On The Wind’ at Eurovision, but SBS wouldn’t allow it. Still, with his endearingly relaxed nature, I doubt it troubles him much. Katy Perry broke onto the pop scene when I was a teenager, and I

honestly don’t know how a 13 yearold me would react to the news, I would one day be sitting naked in a bath opposite the I Kissed A Girl singer. There are many obvious, immature jokes one could make about this scenario so let me set one thing straight: the water does not go hot, and then cold. In fact, Ms Perry, nothing if not hospitable. KP: Do you have enough room? RL: Oh, yes, I’m fine. KP: Don’t hesitate to ask! RL: No really, I’m great. This is Katy at her least refined. I feel as though I am only scratching the surface of her human complexities and I look forward to my next opportunity to wash with her. In a similar vein, it is always a huge honour to join America’s pop sweetheart Taylor Swift in her washroom. It wasn’t so long ago that Ms Swift concluded her globally successful 1989 World Tour, and today she is making the most of her quieter lifestyle, as she lights some scented candles beside the tub. RL: It must be nice to have some time to yourself. TS: I’ve barely had a chance to do chores at home let alone unwind! I’ve got garbage piled up the terrace – which is really bad, I know.

RL: There’s so much there it doesn’t seem feasible? TS: Exactly! (laughs) I can immediately see the improvement the candles are having on Taylor’s demeanour, and I’m beginning to remember the bright eyed all-American girl in a bath that the world fell in love with all those years ago. I’d like to stay here longer but today I am a busy man. There is one final pop star for me to speak with, one whose public persona encapsulates everything I’ve aimed to achieve by taking baths with pop stars. It’s hard to find a tabloid in this country that isn’t obsessed with Dave Graney, and with good reason; Mr Graney is supremely talented and has been in a stable heterosexual relationship for three decades. I join Dave in his ensuite. He sits there, completely nude but for a neck scarf and a cool leather hat. I can only hope that, deep down, there is more to this icon than the desperate child of the industry, too scared to break “the norm” that I see before me. RL: Can you pass the soap, Dave? DG: I actually use a velvet body wash as I find soap gives me a rash. It’s a revelation.

*** Of course, I have only scratched the surface but I do hope it sufficient to give rise to a revolution, where the rich and famous can stand tall above the unwashed masses, not for their image or means but for their superior character. It’s a subject I wish to explore further – through more baths with more perfect celebrities – but in the meantime, I’m off to my dermatologist to hear the results of my leprosy exam. Rob strives for good, old-fashioned journalistic integrity. His dream is to write for the Murdoch Press.

PLAYING LIFE ON HARD MODE WORDS BY: P.K. STALENHOEF ART WORK BY: NATALIE CARFOR A Note: it is not the aim of this piece to judge or compare ways in which people choose to cope with their health. Everyone copes in different ways. This is only a reflection of how the author feels about his unique situation. The decision of whether or not to consult with the Disability Service of the University has been bothering me lately – as it has throughout most of my undergrad and into my post grad. You see, I was registered in my first year and received the service’s benefits, the greatest of which was the ease in gaining extensions. I remember reluctantly approaching tutors at the end of class: ‘Hey, about that essay,’ I’d mutter embarrassed. And before the final words had finished forming on my lips I’d receive an ‘Of course, it’s fine.’ Boom: extension granted. No questions because they’d already been asked and answered. I was a certified disabled student. No doubt you are wondering what my disability is. But I won’t specify – I don’t think it’s necessary. However, I will reveal that I straddle two worlds between being healthy and yet permanently “sick”. Nowadays it’s questionable whether I qualify for Disability Service. My medical history certainly qualifies me, yet I’m actually quite healthy. I’m not chronically ill as much as permanently altered, and my illness is invisible. I don’t know if any of you are in a similar position – in between definitions. For me life is still playable – I’m fine, but if my life were a video game, I’m playing it on hard mode.

Let me explain: a few years ago I was diagnosed with an acute autoimmune disease that tore through my body with the speed and unrelenting ferocity of a twentyfirst century bushfire. No treatments worked and my options quickly became bleak. Days in hospital became weeks and under the spell of perfect and necessary opiates it all became one long night. It became clear that my only chance for life was to face multiple major surgeries. It was a year of my life but it worked. I was a student then too. Sometimes, in morbid moods I dig up essays I wrote days before the disease hit and berate my old self for being so ignorant as to what was to come. After recovering I returned to study. Only weeks before enrolling I couldn’t walk ten feet without collapsing and breaking into a sweat. But there I was again: navigating the energised crowds of people in first year lectures, enduring the awkward initial getting to know you tutorials and staring into the oncoming headlights of assessment deadlines. To me there was no question – I needed the Disability Service. So I signed up. A year goes by. I recover. My mental state recovers. I hit second year. I have momentum. It turns out the easy-to-get extensions were almost never necessary. Sometimes I even handed things in before the due date; and my marks were quite good considering the

low expectations I had on myself following medical catastrophe. It turned out I was a good student. But I began to question my need for the extra help. Shortly after – as is my nature – I became guilty for the benefits I received from my categorisation as a disabled student. The stigma was becoming a burden that I had to shake off. Listen: I’m in the lucky group of people that can do this. That can drift from extreme illness to almost complete normality. I’m not even chronically ill – in fact, technically I’m cured. But the surgeries left me changed – altered. For some people, registering as a disabled student is a complete and permanent necessity. No one would doubt that. I simply felt that it was time to relinquish the definition because doing so would make me feel healthy again – a privilege few sick people get. Time passes. I finish undergrad. I recover as much as I ever will. Life is kind and then it’s cruel and then it’s kind again. I take some time. A harsh year passes. I decide to study education. March takes a while to come and then it hits hard. The competing sectors of my life – Study, Work, Rest, and Play begin to resemble the ellipses of an overlapping Venn diagram. Somewhere in the center of the diagram sits the illusive goal of self-actualisation. I forget one of the ellipses shadows all others – my health.

A guilty thought surfaces: should I register as a disabled student again? Should I claim the status and the stigma – but also the assistance? I am not unwell. And the unfortunate relics of my post-op body are invisible. In fact – it amazes me every day just how healthy I am. How dare I claim a service I do not need? But here’s the kicker: things are difficult – sometimes too difficult. I don’t sleep well. I have dietary restrictions. I’m often in low grade but nonetheless distracting pain. Complications can arise any time. I live in fear. I have memories; I play on hard mode. Weeks pass. I find routine. I receive an email alerting me that I’ve registered before with a ‘medical condition’ and that I should consider booking a consultation. I delete it. I prefer to pretend I’m healthy and get on with it. But I’m so lucky to have that choice. For others there are no choices. I often wonder how many students out there straddle this strange line between sickness and health as I do, and see those same emails and think whether or not they need help or if it’s simply easier to keep playing on hard mode.

Paul is a writer concerned with how people withstand medical trauma. He promises he doesn’t mean to make people sad.

ARTIST PROFILE: DELIA CHIN Delia Chin is a young, talented artist from Perth, WA. Only a few months away from becoming a dentist, she has recently been able to dedicate more time to her passion for art. Her favourite media to work with are: combining watercolour and ink, and graphite pencils. She has also created a number of artworks using acrylic on canvas. After a first successful collaboration, On Dit has invited Delia to publish her artwork in the student magazine on a few other occasions. In the process, she painted ‘University Life’ (a painting using actual coffee!) and ‘Flying Colours’ (a representation of celebrations at the close of an academic year) for two different On Dit covers. Her artworks ‘Inked’ and ‘Autumn Wings’ were also featured in the magazine. Delia has recently received multiple enquiries for commissioned projects including watercolour artworks for decorating homes, large-scale paintings for dental clinics in both Adelaide and Perth, tattoo designs, and a number of donation artworks for non-profit organisations. She loves the concept of sharing art to an audience and has kick started her artist’s page ‘Maisondelia’ in the first few months of 2016. Instagram: @maisondelia Facebook: /maisondelia

A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP WITH FOOD WORDS BY: L AR A JUNGHARDT

Confession time:

Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

I binge eat.

In our society healthy eating is regarded as an individual’s responsibility, but it is important to remember that the mixed messages we receive constantly are part of what makes it so hard to navigate our relationship with food. We are told that certain foods are ‘bad’, and that we need to deprive ourselves in order to live well. On the other hand, many of these foods are portrayed as treats that we can earn when we are ‘good’, and they are associated with friendship, comfort, and pleasure. These conflicting messages make it difficult to work out why we do or don’t want to eat certain foods at certain times.

Reachout.com defines binge eating as: “eating very large amounts of food in a short period of time and feeling a sense of loss of control while eating. It often happens at times of stress, anger, boredom or distress and at these times is used as a way of coping with challenging emotions.” For the past few years my relationship with food has been marred by feelings of anxiety and helplessness. I started using food as a crutch to support me through emotionally tough times. I’d eat when I felt stressed by schoolwork, when I was facing problems with family or friends, or whenever I felt unhappy. Food became a lifeline, something that I could always rely on to provide comfort and an escape from reality. However, it also became the source of so much stress. I worried about my physical health, and I felt I might never be able to regain control over my eating habits. Last year, I started seeing a counsellor at uni who helped me work on my relationship with food and eating. It’s been a long journey, but I am making (slow, cha cha like, but still documentable) progress towards eating well.

Through counselling at uni and my own research, I’m re-shaping the way I think about food. I’ve discovered that for me, thinking in terms of good/bad or all/nothing isn’t helpful, it just leads to feeling restricted, deprived, and helpless. Instead I’m practising mindful eating, and focusing less on ‘rules’ for how I consume food. Mindful eating is one way to disconnect from unhealthy eating habits. It involves distinguishing between hungry and non-hungry eating, identifying triggers for ‘mindless eating’, being aware of physical hunger and satiety cues, and truly appreciating the experience of eating in the present moment.

Steps I’ve taken towards this mindset include: - Setting up a routine and a place for meals where I can relax and appreciate the experience. - Being aware of the situations that for me lead to mindless eating e.g. watching a movie, writing an essay, arriving home after a bad day. - Devising other support mechanisms or go-to reactions for dealing with emotional or social pressures, such as stepping out of the situation and listening to music for a while. Being aware of how my relationship with food is shaped by society, and how I can shape it myself, has really helped me tackle a problem I thought I might never beat. I think learning to eat well can be of real benefit to everyone, and I hope that by sharing my experiences I’ve given you some insight into possible ways to achieve that. If you’re concerned about any of the issues I’ve discussed and want to speak with someone, the university offers a free counselling service, and you can also contact Headspace online or over the phone.

INDEPENDENT MEDIA? SIMPLE AS ABC WORDS BY: JOHN SWAN

WHY PUBLIC BROADCASTERS MATTER From Four Corners, to Please Like Me, and Kitchen Cabinet, I am always amazed at the plethora of content delivered by our ABC; yet this Australian institution and its hallmark independence is under threat from severe funding cuts. From 1985 to 2016 the ABC’s government funding has been cut by over 25%. The ABC has shaped my worldview immeasurably. Seven o’clock has always been ABC News time at my place and of course Radio National and 891 have had their pre-set buttons on the family car radio. Trust is why the ABC is so valuable. According to a recent Essential Media Communications poll, ABC Television News and Current Affairs is Australia’s most trusted media organisation. With rumours of further cuts in the upcoming May Federal Budget, the Federal Government needs to stop and recognise the importance of an independent and well-funded ABC for all Australians. The current government has a poor record of undermining ABC journalists and cutting resources.

Prime Minister Abbott demonstrated his incomprehension of the ABC’s independence from political interference when he described it in January 2014 as “being on everyone’s side but our own”. This was relation to the broadcaster’s reporting of the Indonesian spying scandal and the Australian Navy’s treatment of asylum seekers. These comments, actively supported by the then Communications Minister and now Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull, directly undermine the ABC’s editorial independence. These views imply a dangerous expectation of self-censorship on the broadcaster by the government. As stated by the outgoing ABC Managing Director Mark Scott, the ABC is a “public broadcaster, not a state broadcaster”. Only two months later, the 2014 Budget began almost $500 million dollars of cuts to ABC. Compared to other government services, ABC journalists are severely limited in criticising funding cuts, due to stringent impartiality standards. These cuts to public broadcasting should be contrasted to this government’s fervent funding of media advertising for its own controversial policies - these include university fee deregulation ($15

million), asylum seeker boat turn back ads ($70.7 million), and its signature innovation package ($28 million). The ABC has further been attacked by conservative commentators and a concerted campaign in the Murdoch News Corp press. People like Gerard Henderson and Andrew Bolt lament that the ABC is left-wing biased and only has a small inner city elitist audience. Perhaps they forget that they themselves have been part of the ABC, both appearing on Insiders. Bolt is also soon to appear as a costar in a new ABC documentary about indigenous recognition. It is clear that the editorial team go to great lengths to ensure objective news reporting and balanced debate. I remember going to a televised debate between the state Liberal and Labor leaders before the 2014 South Australian Election at the Collinswood studios. Anyone from the public could request a free ticket online to attend but had to indicate their voting intentions so that a balanced audience could be chosen. Contrary to various conservative commentators’ views, the ABC compliments other media organisations and promotes the

overall quality of our media. Additionally, cutting the ABC funding further would severely reduce the diversity in the ABC’s vast audience. Specialist programs have been severely impacted by past cuts. Since the 2014 Federal Budget, the South Australian television production studios have been forced to close, leading to the loss of local programs like 7:30 SA and Poh’s Kitchen. Classic FM, of which 50% of recording is done in South Australia, has suffered deep cuts. Over 37 employees have lost their jobs at the Collinswood studio, with 10% of staff being laid off across the network. Many specialist Radio National programs have also been cut. Regional radio stations have been hit particularly hard with local morning programs canned. So-called back office efficiencies, whilst seemingly positive, have also had damaging impacts. The closure of the South Australian ABC switchboard means that viewers and listeners now have to ring via Sydney to comment on programmingcreating a gap between the ABC and its audience. There is also no longer a South Australian State Director who can promote our

state’s programming interests. These overall funding cuts will affect youth content too in a media segment unprofitable for mainstream media to have an interest in. You can only imagine the implications for popular Triple J programs like Unearthed High or Hack. Minority groups which rely on content from public broadcasters are disproportionally affected by budget cuts. The ABC is Australia’s leading producer of indigenous content. Programs like the acclaimed Black Comedy highlight Australian contemporary issues in an incredibly witty and engaging manner. This is the first program since 1973 with an all indigenous cast, and demonstrates the ABC’s support for diversity in production, which is clearly lacking in mainstream commercial media. SBS has similarly faced cuts by the Federal Government, leading to a decrease in its ability to provide multicultural and multilingual content to Australians with ethnically diverse backgrounds. Australia Network, which broadcasts to a potential audience of 144 million viewers in the Asia Pacific, was shut down. This is despite only being in the first

of a new ten-year agreement with the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade. This closure has had a dramatic impact on Australia’s international engagement and removes our country’s greatest contribution to freedom of speech in a region where it is severely restricted. Australians deserve well-funded and independent public broadcasters. I was shocked at the recent arbitrary detention of ABC Four Corners reporter Linton Besser and camera operator Louie Eroglu by the Malaysian Government. Their alleged crime was to question the country’s prime minister on corruption allegations. This injustice not only highlights to me the courage of ABC journalists; it also made me realise that our government shows no greater respect for independent media. Having well-funded and respected public broadcasters should be as simple as ABC.

John is a member of Friends of the ABC who procrastinates by learning to bake new types of bread.

THE LOWDOWN ON VANITY WORDS BY: GALINA MURINA PHOTOGR APHY BY: TESSA L AUREN

In this generation of youths, who are obviously not doing anything with their lives, self-love is both lacking and visible in large proportions. I mean a lot of people are sad; even happy people are sad. Whether this is because our generation sees the repercussions of all the occurrences in the world or we’re just ultrasensitive about everything we’ll never really know. There’s a wide world out there and sometimes people lose themselves in it. I’m definitely not some expert in self-love but I suppose I’m observant enough. At times in my dazed state I look around myself and time and time again I see people not loving themselves so that they feel as though others love them. I mean I understand. Personally I believe that one should not (and cannot for the sake of their own sanity) keep up such a façade. Sure, you might feel like others won’t like you for who you really are but consider

all those horrible people you know that still somehow have friends (how this occurs I could not for the sake of me tell you). Maybe accepting who you are is the initial step to self-love or maybe it’s your last step; who cares? As long as you become comfortable in who you are, you will be okay. On the daily we probably all do something just for ourselves. Maybe we wear that lipstick that makes us feel great, or maybe that shirt that shows off our body just the right amount. Maybe even something as simple as your favourite coffee before class. Each of us cares for ourselves in different ways. This caring process that we do, in its own special way, is an act of self-love. You may not realise it, I certainly don’t sometimes. We all subconsciously love ourselves it’s just that sometimes it is difficult to get past that stage-hogging consciousness we all have.

Some of us are harsher on ourselves than we need to be, yet some aren’t harsh enough. Love is a difficult thing to define. Love isn’t about letting yourself follow every whim you have. If you did that it would be infatuation. Self-love is about caring for yourself as an individual. One can fall in ‘love’ constantly when really they’re only infatuated with an idea. Many of us mistake infatuation for love and many of us forget to love ourselves when the subject of our infatuation is as bright as the points of the constellations. The thing that we usually don’t realise is that if we get too close we’ll turn to dust. When someone burns as brightly as the sun, you should be scared. Especially if you want to put them before yourself. Many people lose themselves in relationships, you see it happen time and time again. Then it ends. You see them, though they are lost in a fog. Followed by a haze and struggling to get out.

Self-love is about being a complete entity made of galaxies by yourself. This way, you do not turn to dust unless you need to grow again. Self-love is growth. And selflove sometimes needs a push; or a ginormous shove.

Love is a simple complexity. It can be seen as vanity by those who fear a person becoming secure in themselves. This makes sense though; I mean the world runs on insecurities, does it not?

Look, loving yourself can be hard when the world is telling you that you aren’t perfect. In all seriousness perfection cannot be loved, only admired and feared. It is doubtful that anything worldly will ever be perfect, if we think critically. So, I (as this annoyingly young person) want you to take a breath and look at yourself, flaws and perfections, and all those charming quirks you have. Then I want you to realise that the most important love you will ever feel is from you…. Maybe also from animals and pets… but in the long term the love that you gain from yourself will be the best love you will ever get.

Galina Murina is a science student who seems to think she can answer philosophical questions. If you want more weirdness her Instagram is: chesnariel.

Model: Loren Harrison MUA: RVL Make up

IN DEFENCE OF IRONY WORDS BY: INGMAR DULDIG ILLUSTR ATION BY: NATALIE CARFOR A

The sheer frothing sanctimony of the Baby Boomers can be a bit hard to swallow at times. The same people who have left us with skyrocketing house prices, a radioactive environment and a historical legacy of unbridled bloodlust and hatred are now the ones telling us that we need to pull our socks up and start taking life seriously. For millennials like you and me (I’m assuming mature aged students don’t read On Dit, the foreign sounding name has probably put them off ), the cruellest blow is that we were born just late enough in the picture to have experienced the last of the good times, and we’re now staring down the barrel of a slow, painful descent into certain doom. Between a flailing world economy and irreversible climate change, I honestly believe we’ll be living in some kind of Mad Max situation within the next 100 or so years, which is why I’ve been stockpiling cartons of long life milk under my bed (the smell also wards off intruders). One of the most grating criticisms levelled at our generations is that the millennials spend all our time rooted in the past, and the only way we relate to the world is through irony. This is annoying for many

reasons, not least of which is that it implies that our generation doesn’t care about the world. To the contrary, I think people our age are actually way more switched on about political issues than we’re given credit for. But the other annoying thing is that it assumes the ironic mode is somehow indicative of a cultural failing, like it’s a bad thing. Irony may well be more heavily used by this generation than others, but that doesn’t mean we don’t care about anything. Firstly, let’s clear this up, because we’re dealing with a concept that has ironically been oft-misinterpreted. Irony is not merely a funny situation or coincidence. It is, according to my extensive research on Google, ‘the expression of one’s meaning by using language that normally signifies the opposite, typically for humorous or emphatic effect.’ This can extend to anything from a retro t-shirt to a Swedish black and white dramedy. The reason that irony is popular in public discourse is that it’s exclusive. To use irony is to say that something is and is not simultaneously. This means that an ironic statement creates an exclusive club made up of people who ‘get it’ - you may have

said ‘that’s a nice hat’, but those of us that are in the loop know that you really meant ‘why would a 21 year old undergraduate wear a fedora?’ Using irony allows you to be in two places at once in terms of meaning, and, with enough nuance, be believed to be genuine from either angle. This is the subversive power of the ironic mode – it allows you to speak truth to Power using its own language, but on your terms. The ironist is able to slice through bullshit like a freshly sharpened blade through butter. ‘what an interesting argument, Corey’.) I’m not saying that irony can change the entire global political system, or that it doesn’t have its irritating misuses (the fact that The London still plays Fancy in 2016 can only be put down to a grossly misguided sense of kitsch on the part of the management). But it can be pretty fun, especially when there is a victim who doesn’t realise what’s going on, and the ability to say (and possibly mean) two things at once has the capacity to liberate us from the gloomy reality of the corporeal. That Kevin 07 t-shirt you bought because you thought it would be funny to wear at a party is not a sad

piece of regressive cultural flam, it’s irony in it’s purest, shiniest -white haired- form. I think this is why the use of irony is becoming more and more widespread. With a world so utterly unfair and so royally screwed, people of our generation (even privileged ones) feel increasingly powerless and alone, even as we become more connected through social media. Using irony does not mean you don’t care - is a way for us to feel included in a special group of people who know what’s really going down, and it gives us a tool for expressing our angst while simultaneously making light of it. The prevalence of irony is, therefore, not a sign that our generation has nothing to offer to the cultural canon - it’s actually a tool for subversive progressivism, as well as a way for us to acknowledge the grim reality we face while also allowing for a bit of gallows humour.

Ingmar Duldig is a male Law student from the Eastern Suburbs. I guess you hate in others what you hate in yourself.

I’D RATHER BE ALONE WORDS BY: SKYE JENNER PHOTOGR APHY BY: JOSH CORKE Last month I was asked to go on my honours camp. It wasn’t compulsory, and was not only going to cost me money, but also mean that I would be missing work (and therefore losing more pay.) I decided not to go. Enter: my Mother. ‘Why don’t you go?’... ‘You should make some more friends.’...‘Stop being antisocial.’ It was really irritating, but it also made me wonder if there was something wrong with me. No, there’s not something wrong with me. I am just introverted. I’m not saying that myself (or other introverts) don’t have friends or enjoy their company. But, I personally like my very small group, and their familiarity with the ins, outs n crazies of Skye. They’re the people who know my history and are the key players in my life. And they love me. But these friends also get that I will quite literally disappear for a week or two without a word. They understand that I’d rather be alone. Sometimes. Sometimes being an introvert, and (in my case) just a little too weird for most people, isn’t fun at university. I remember my first year I was told that it was all about making friends. I met new people, I laughed, I talked. And a month later I still didn’t feel like I’d made friends. But the years have taught me that uni isn’t necessarily about that, it’s about embracing who you are. So here are some of my favourite things about being an introvert and just being alone.

BEING WEIRD Not having a group of people around me all the time means that I can just be myself. I am slightly (alright, incredibly) kooky at times and sometimes it is really frustrating having to explain yourself to others. ‘No, I’m not “special”’. ‘Yes, I am smart’. And my personal favourite, ‘Yes I know what traffic lights are!’ (I’m from the Barossa, apparently some people assume that means no traffic…) I love being able to dance and sing to my music when I want and not worry that I’m bothering somebody with the noise. Being alone means that I get to do what I want, when I want and that’s okay. Some days that means writing, or reading, or even crocheting a scarf (still mastering that skill I’m afraid). But regardless of what it means, sometimes being alone (even if you’re an extrovert) lets you embrace yourself – scars, bumps and everything. FEW FRIENDS I love my small group of friends; most days I can count on one hand the people that I class as true friends. It’s always refreshing to rock up to your mate’s house – in trackies, no bra s and a packet of favourite junk food in hand. They’re the friends that will let me come over, flop on their couch and sometimes never even say a word. I don’t get worried that I’ve made an ass of myself in front of them or that I’d somehow said something stupid.

Some of my more extroverted friends are constantly running around with other people’s drama – they love it, so I guess kudos to them. But that seems like the most draining thing to be doing. STUDY This is a university magazine, so eventually I was going to talk about study. I am in constant awe about how much I get done with no one else around. I get my assignments finished so much quicker, and it means I have heaps more time to do the things I love. My first year of university I had one classmate who would rock up to a Biology tute every Wednesday morning hungover. Apparently he got insanely drunk every day or two. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good drink with friends, but being hungover in class? I’d rather not. Go the introverted sober studiers! FUR BABIES I’d rather be alone, but I’m not technically alone. Even now with

the house entirely to myself, I still have company. Not socialising every spare moment means that I get to spend so much more time with my fur babies. Stressed out? Stuff a call to my friend, I’ll just grab my beagle puppy and give her a huge hug (if she holds still for long enough). In need of entertainment? Watch the dogs run around in circles. Or try and stop my possum from going straight down my shirt and scratching my stomach. Need a good, emotional booster? Start up a game with the dog and watch her be delirious with happiness. In the end, I didn’t go to my honours camp. I spent the week reading, relaxing and just enjoying the company of myself and my fur babies. I can’t think of a better, or more productive way to spend my time.

Skye is convinced that the best way to spend the day is reading a good book with her beagle on her lap and possum on her shoulder.

THE LAST PLACE ON EARTH WORDS BY: JESSIE PANAZZOLO

In my mind, I envisioned the last place on earth to be a rocky moonlike landscape, filled with vast endless nothingness. A tundra of emptiness, void of all things human, and all things lush. It may be so in the sanctity of my mind, that the last place on earth is a void of all things living and all things with a pulse. However, in the reality of Earth, the last place upon its surface, is completely the opposite. The Gunung Leuser Ecosystem is one which is the most diverse in the world for plants, insects, birds, mammals, reptiles and amphibians. Hornbills can be heard flying over the expanse of tree topped mountainous regions, paired with lush lowlands favoured by some of the world’s most recognized large mammals. Sumatran tigers, elephants, rhinos and of course the orange hairy men that frequent the tallest most sparsely spanning trees of the forest . Standing beneath the canopy, the symphony of the Leuser soundtrack fills your ears. Frogs croak out melodies in among the chirping band of insects and in the distance, you can hear the distinct whoop whoop of the peacocks, the fangirls of the forest. The lighting in this performance is stunning; as the brightest rays of the Sumatran sky penetrate the glossy leaves in the thick canopy, spotting magical beams of light in every direction. You think you can visit the last place on earth, but the vines entangling any human body that may want to pass through, reminds you that the forest is alive. The leeches on your

legs remind you that you are just as much a part of the forest cycle, as the leaves or the water or the air, but not just your blood. The hair that got tangled in a branch looming overhead, may now be the cushioned comfort of a bird’s new nest and your footprint may be the vessel needed, to create a small watery pool for a frog to raise its tadpoles. There is never a dull moment, as the macaques and silvery languars dance overhead to the whooping melodies of the dark and handsome siamangs, and the forest boars scatter out through the undergrowth, leaving their pungent stench, trailing behind. Monitor lizards scamper up trees as the vibrant feathers of bee eaters and the outrageous head dress of woodpeckers, add a splash of colour to the otherwise green landscape. There are sun bears, golden and leopard cats striding through the leafy undergrowth at night, filling the daylight with mystery. Where are these animals hiding now? The last place on earth holds many secrets close to its chest, like how many of the critically endangered rhinos there are left in its grasps. If this information leaves the precious confines of the forests, poachers are willing to travel not only from local regions, but from other countries such as Vietnam too, in order to feed their thirst for rhinoceros trophies. Poaching isn’t as much of a problem for the tusked men of the forest, compared to the shock they face when thick canopy is no longer present, along their age old

pathways. “Oh well” they sigh, and just keep trekking, sometimes through the dry landscapes of oil palm and rubber plantations. They try to re-establish the age old roads that their fathers and grandfathers used before them time and time again.But instead of kind and warm understanding from agricultural workers, their reward is 20 to 30 of their loved ones poisoned each year. What about the stripy ones of orange and black? That stride the lengths of the forest at night, hunting for the ever alert forest deer that will be the perfect feast, for two hungry cubs. For those that escape the grasps of human hands for medicine and trophies, you will find them sleeping eternally along highways. After cars didn’t bother to stop, too busy going where they needed to go, without a care for one of the last remaining beasts of the forest, who just wanted to cross the road. And that leaves us with the orange men, the most loved and cherished of the four, as the likely resemblance to ourselves hits us in a familiar place. So many are out attempting to save the orange men as they aren’t as elusive as the rhino, who are specialists at hide and seek, seldom being found. They are not as generalized as elephants and cannot wander as far into uncharted broken forest territory, making their own way through. Lastly, they are not strong like tigers, standing up for themselves when threats come their way, being able to grit their teeth and bare it. The orange ones in the trees become trapped by fragmentation, shot down on agricultural land and

WEIGHTING WORDS BY: ANDREW MCNAMAR A

their culture becomes lost as soon as connectivity between communities dissipates. What happens when all the rhinos are poached, all the elephants are poisoned, all the tigers are hit and all the orangutans are homeless? The last place on earth would suddenly become the last place on earth Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d want to be. I want to keep the magic. I want to believe in the sparkles of the sunlight and the encouraging whoops of the peacocks. I want to know that even though I cannot see the sun bears, that they are still abundant and joyous. I want to nourish the degraded land with tiny saplings and re-assure the ground that it is going to be okay. I pray for the sky to cry its tears of sadness over the tiny saplings until they grow strong and tall, like I did when I was a child. When the leaves reach further than my jumping reach, I can know that there is hope again. Hope for the secrets to persist, the secret lives of the rhinos, the secret journeys of the elephants, the secret families of the tigers and the secret whispers of knowledge between the orangutans. There is hope, there are people fighting, and there is a future. The last place on earth, will be the last place on earth so help me god, for I will never stop fighting to protect its leafy expanses that to over 25,000 species are not just expanses but are so much more than that. A sanctuary, a family, a home.

Weighting. Damocles hangs over me, An unresolved anticipation. Waiting for eternity Trapped within my frustration. Prisoner of fates decree, Canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t avert the imposition Predetermined destiny Demands to become. Be it doom or salvation, Cease now the procrastination. What will be will surely be, Let it now be done.

TIMOTHY: THE ZOMBIE LAB MOUSE WORDS BY: KATIE SKEEN ART WORK BY: R ACHEL WONG

Timothy never had good role models. His scientist didn’t care for television shows starring morally fibrous mouse leads. He opted instead for reruns of Stargate SG-1, and since Timothy was a mouse, he was able only to develop a loose understanding of astrophysics from the show – the moral lessons of human beings were completely beyond him. Timothy had never been anywhere but the scientist’s lab. It was white and sterile and clinical. His cage was connected to the cages of his 104 matching brothers. Genetic identicalness to his siblings was crucial if his scientist’s experiments were to have any validity. He and his brothers were essentially tissue – pure, untainted, glorious experimental tissue. The best thing that had ever happened in Timothy’s short life was the time his scientist downloaded Die Hard 1 – 4 (the worst being when his scientist downloaded Die Hard 5). My point is, perhaps Timothy can’t be blamed for the terrible thing he became. His sentience was ignored so that science might flourish. Under

different circumstances and with the proper reimbursement, Timothy may have been a willing participant in his scientist’s experiments. But he was never asked. He was simply born and put in a cage. Once, it was thought that personality must be a result of either nature or nurture. It couldn’t be both. Just like the Sith, science was dealing in extremes, and just like the Sith, science was wrong. Now, it’s thought that the two are interrelated and cannot be considered separately if an accurate understanding of how we develop is to be reached. It was this avenue that Timothy’s scientist was exploring – hence the need for Timothy and his clones. But unluckily for Timothy, he was to be one of the pups raised without any love or nourishment. Months of malformed development meant that Timothy’s brain was already in a bad way. Use it or lose it, that’s the rule of thumb when it comes to brain regions. And the only regions in Timothy’s brain that had ever had any exercise were the mean

ones. All the nice parts had turn to shriveled pinky goop. So it didn’t take much for Timothy to snap and become a monster. One too many electric shocks, one too many days spent starving, and one too many hours of the butchering of the Die Hard franchise had finally fizzled his brain and turned him into a zombie. One day his eyes turned inwards and his whiskers stopped twitching. He began chewing at the bars of his cage, the pain from gnawing being nothing to a mouse like Timothy. He knew that once he was on the other side he could open the cages of his brothers. And then the feast would begin. His two front teeth bled over the thin bars he chewed at, the blood whetting his appetite for delicious, happy-hormone brains. And then, some many hours after he began his task, he felt the snap of the bar breaking vibrate through his little body.

He chuckled as he squeezed through the gap he’d created. Timothy had to pass the cages of his brothers to reach the switches that would unlock their doors, and as he did, he watched them. The further he ventured from his own cage, the larger and more jolly his brothers became. These mice mouse-smiled at Timothy as he passed. Some even put their little paws through the bars eager for a little mouse hi-five. ‘Them first,’ thought Timothy. Once the cages were opened, Timothy waited a few moments more. The anticipation of what he was going to do welled up inside him, the stress hormones he usually feared now filling his body with the strength and excitement it would need if he were to succeed. Really, if you could’ve seen Timothy sitting there, watching his clonebrothers, you would’ve felt sick. A billion little coincidences had accumulated and resulted in Timothy. Things entirely out of Timothy’s control led to him being there, licking his lips while watching

mouse brains dance around in front of him. What if his scientist had decided to put Timothy in a cage at the other end of the room? What if his scientist had followed his passion for gothic architecture instead of behavioural psychology? What if it was never discovered that the biology of humans and mice was so similar? But Timothy was only one mind, one isolated and malformed mind. He could never have appreciated the kismet of his existence. Time and space had determined he would sit there, watching his brothers who were really himself run free for the first time and think only of their tasty brains. Timothy was a monster. He munched down as many brains as he could before his scientist found him and stopped it all. Ironically, Timothy’s zombie choices meant the scientist’s data was worthless, so all the mouse’s suffering ultimately meant nothing. But could it ever have been another way?

DEATH: A ROMANCE WORDS BY: JAMES RUDD ART WORK BY: NATALIE CARFOR A

The first time I explored the “occult” was the drawing of Tarot cards at a friend’s farmhouse. Deep in the wild, the farm was a meeting place for couples and people in love; a safe but eerie space away from my version of normality. I’d just gotten myself involved in a relationship that was short, fast, loud, and deadly. It was a complicated affair, but one that seemed a positive step forward at the time. It was my first step into a deeper physical intimacy and on that I cherished because I made it happen. It was my step. My walk forward into… whatever. Of course, it wasn’t as positive as it first appeared and wasn’t to be for very long. A tangle of feelings, connections and memories ultimately tore the whole thing apart. Wham. Blamo. Ugly mess. But that’s not something to worry about anymore. I couldn’t have known at the time, even though the signs were there. The f irst sign was a scary one: everyone’s favourite card to draw in the game of Tarot. DEATH.

You don’t flip over DEATH and react well at first. That little skeletal bastard on his horse doesn’t seem like a particularly good sign. It’s even worse when the question you asked of the cards was `how will my future love-life be?` And it’s absolutely apocalyptic for someone who’s just entered into their first “adult” relationship. Of course, Death is misunderstood. Some times things have to die so that you can move on to bigger and better things. Death has been said to represent `transformation and passage from lower to higher,` and now, I’m thinking that’s what my small Death has allowed. I struggled for some time after the inevitable breakup. I lost something secret and beautiful, I lost a group of friends. I still feel the pain at times, knowing that the tangle damaged some of my other close relationships. I beat myself up, blamed myself for everything, and then blamed everyone else for the pain. But there’s no sense in blame, nothing to be gained anymore from anger of jealousy. The Death came

and I was allowed passage from lower to higher. In the middle of 2015, after I met someone really, truly dear. Instead of the tangle of secrecy and connections that you must encounter in a small city like Adelaide, this relationship was outside the circle. For better or worse, the first time I felt truly connected to someone was when they happened to live 16,000 kilometres away. *** Relationships are just as dangerously mortal as we are. They come to life in explosive colour and excitement before either fading away, ageing gracefully or imploding in on themselves… … but that’s what makes them so beautiful. Because time is precious, life is also precious. Because time is limited, love is a treasure. I hate to admit it, but if the Spanish girl of my dreams wasn’t two months away from

boarding her plane, I probably never would have plucked up the courage. It was actually a battle against time to prevent things not yet said from becoming things left unsaid. And because I was appreciating every little, heavy-breathing moment I had with her, I was truly living it. Because I knew that at some point one of us was going to have to fly back home, every moment had to be perfect… and we made it that. Instead of worrying about the potential Deaths of the future (something we had both experienced in our own way), we found comfort in the life that had been thrown to us. In fact, I was so taken with this character that I found myself in Spain late last year, smooching in Alicante airport and then getting all teary in front of a heavy black elevator on my last day in Madrid. Romance novel material, isn’t it? *** My Death allowed me to look at things in a different light. I saw

people in a different light. Instead of formulaic beings, bottles of chemicals with set reactions, I saw creatures with their own complicated lives, their own stories and their own Deaths. Sonder. But Death is painful as well. It must hurt to allow the passage. Receiving the break-up text late 2014 was one of the worst pains of my life. That was a Death. The passage was meeting someone new and wonderful. Saying `see you later` to them as I left their beautiful homeland was another Death, but not a truly painful one because I knew there was the promise of life Fafter it. Perhaps my second life really was “higher”. Perhaps the Tarot cards told the truth. The passage, the transformation, really does change who you are as a person, or at least puts you in a better cosmic “place”. It’s a place to receive things more beautiful, if you let them in, and grab them with both hands.

HER GRAND WORDS BY: LEWIS HODKINSON

She always smiled when I played the piano. Even in her darkest moments as she lay there, the corners of her mouth lifted when I played for her. I suppose I lost a childhood in many respects — I didn’t play games with friends or even have friends for that matter. I had her. It never really mattered what I played, however, as she especially liked it when I would compose my own pieces for her. The music created by one broken soul with the futile hope of healing another. My music poured and rained through her room, and she simply smiled, closing her eyes to escape her reality. That’s what I was — her escape. When she would fall ill, I helped her to fly from her bed to the cusp of the moon, or the hidden section of her favourite library. I never thought otherwise really, for she was my world and for her, I wanted to create a masterpiece that she could not only exist in, but live in. We had positioned the grand piano at her bedside one summer. It has not moved since. I guess in many respects, neither have I. I sat beside her in the most abhorrent and traumatic moments of her life. I know she was more than what I saw of her, but I didn’t care. I have been shown photos of a young woman daring and bold, out dancing and laughing. I wish I could have heard her laugh. It’s a strange thing, isn’t it, to have never heard a person laugh, but it doesn’t matter. I didn’t and don’t care because I was there through

the thick of it. The times when she needed someone, a distraction, an escape, a journey for her senses to help heal her soul, I was there. I remember once, she was having one of those days that feel as though the sun had not risen, yet will never set. Then, I played more beautifully than I had ever and have ever since. As she closed her eyes and smiled, I played. My piano played for her wilting heart, my fingers wet from the teardrops falling from my eyes. All through the haunted night to the saving sun, I did my best to save her. Since that day, I haven’t been able to play that piece again. It just doesn’t seem fair how notes, simple sonorous tones, can haunt and inspire one’s memory. I simply wished for what was best for her. We wouldn’t speak much. I was only young at the time and did not know not what to say, but it was never uncomfortable. When she was healthy, in those seldom moments of life screaming out, she would always tell me that my music had gotten her through the pain. I only have a soul today because she let me into hers, and my heart is only whole because the shattered pieces of my own fit perfectly into the torn pieces of hers.

I see that now. The last thing she said to me, I will never forget. ‘Don’t you ever stop playing, it’s how I will know how to find you.’ That was my mother. There are some beautiful lines in this piece, and the image created is beautiful. However, you need to watch punctuation and make sure the story flows smoothly- some sentences appear out of place, and disconnect us from the story. The timeline also seems to jump a lot randomly. Although the idea is nice, it becomes a bit cliché towards the end, the whole idea of ‘two broken people saving each other.’ The child’s devotion to the mother is amazing- I wonder whether it would be interesting to hint at that and explore than angle further. How did the narrator become so broken? Maybe clues into the past could make the story, and the ending, a bit more plausible.

BIRTHDAY DREAD 2016* BY JOHN HARGREAVES’

MUSIC BROK EN DEVOTION | MINT JULEP REVIEW BY: ANDREW L ANG

2.5/5 | Broken Devotion is the new record from Mint Julep, the indie pop project comprised of husband and wife duo Keith and Hollie Kenniff. Keith is best known for his work under the aliases of Helios and Goldmund, as well as having collaborated with Hollie on a number of other projects. Broken Devotion’s release is the result of a Kickstarter campaign late last year, which also saw the release of Helios’ new record Yume. Mint Julep takes inspiration from a variety of genres, including electronic, shoegaze, and 80s pop. The two share performance duties, with Hollie taking charge of the vocals. Her singing style leaves a little to be desired, although the most noticeable imperfections are masked

by vocal effects and other production tricks. On that subject, the production quality of the record is top notch, with each of the instruments bringing different elements to the mix which find their own space. Considering the number of instruments present, this is no simple task. The issue with this record is one that plagues many albums in this genre – it’s very easy for each song to blend into the next, with little variations present in instrumentation or melody. And while there are stand out moments, these fade into the background. The strength of their previous album, Save Your Season, was the ability for each of the tracks to feel unique and interesting. In comparison to such albums, Broken Devotion falls disappointingly short.

MUSIC UNTITLED UNMASTERED | KENDRICK L AMAR REVIEW BY: EWAN TURNER 3.5/5 | From the outset, Kendrick Lamar’s untitled unmastered, seems doomed by its status as a successor to the critically acclaimed To Pimp a Butterfly. Kendrick’s follow up to TPAB, was seemingly fated to be overhyped and underappreciated. These expectations have been avoided somewhat by the title’s acknowledgement of its unfinished and unmastered state. The ominous saxophone solos and G-funk inflected bass lines from TPAB are present here, but the unfinished nature of unmastered’s tracks, render the production skeletal. The beats are sparse, juxtaposed with jazz influenced instrumentation leaping in and out of each track, creating an intoxicatingly immersive atmosphere. Lamar’s existential angst is the perfect lyrical accompaniment, as he attempts to reconcile his fame with his Compton origins. The trap influenced ‘Untitled 2’ demonstrates Kendrick’s awareness of the trappings of materialism and complacency, casting a critical eye on himself and his surroundings.

That’s not to say that the album is a resounding success. Because of its unmastered state, Lamar’s voice becomes indecipherable within untitled unmastered’s instrumentally chaotic moments. For the first time on any Kendrick Lamar release, the man is sometimes second fiddle to his beats. Furthermore, some unfinished ideas work to the album’s detriment. ‘Untitled 4’ barely justifies its existence as the improvised bass meanders around Kendrick’s whispered flow for two tedious minutes. untitled unmastered is not perfect, neither does it make any pretences to be. Half-finished song ideas and muddy mixing are obvious critiques, but the album retains Kendrick’s thought provoking lyrics and idiosyncratic beats. When lined up next to his previous works, untitled unmastered seems minor and unfinished (Probably because it is). That said, when Kendrick’s lyrical prowess shines through, the results are unquestionably magical.

FILM WHERE TO INVADE NEXT | MICHAEL MOORE REVIEW BY: RYAN MAC

3/5 | So Michael Moore made a new film about how backwards the US is, this time by traveling from country to country and looking at how much higher the standard of living is. All done under a running gag of “invading” to steal the policies that allow this and bring them back Stateside. Which works really well as a way to showcase of how much better the world can be and has become in some places. The series of invasions spans across Europe from Portugal to Slovenia and even across the Mediterranean into North Africa, and the topics range from sex education to prison systems to school lunches. All (well almost all) discussed in tongue-and-cheek invasion interviews that are equal parts poignant and hilarious.

Other than that well, it’s Michael Moore. If you guessed that it’s left-wing, mostly un-subtle and occasionally plays selective with the truth in service of a worthy agenda then congratulations, go grab yourself a cookie. He’s a little more open about the factual bias than usual here, admitting up front that he’s looking at the good in countries and ignoring the bad, but the sin of omission is definitely still present. Whether or not that bothers you is a personal matter, just be aware that this isn’t a completely balanced portrayal. If you’re willing to accept that though go for it. It’s funny and heartwarming and actually really optimistic. It seems the future might not be so dark a place after all.

FOOD

BAKL AVAS | AL MINA MEDITERR ANEAN PATISSERIE REVIEW BY: LUR ALGHUR ABI 5/5 | I ask myself often times whether ‘belonging’ is a feeling that exists for anyone at all. Maybe my idea that I don’t belong anywhere is never going to part ways with me, and this is just how it’s meant to be. Maybe the conflicts in the Middle East that forced me to leave my beloved homeland will never come to an end. Maybe we will all die miserable, sad, and pathetic, all while life means nothing and we should just give up. Existence is futile. Life is pain. This nihilism was starting to bury me alive. I dropped out of uni, moved to the underworld, made friends with Charon, stopped wearing shoes, and I started eating carbs just to see if I could feel something. Nothing could be done to breathe any life back into me, or so we thought. I was lounging in my house one day, scrolling down my Facebook newsfeed with my dead fingers and came across Al Mina Mediterranean Patisserie. ‘Patisserie?’ I thought to myself, ‘sounds French, and they’re miserable too. I must go there.’

I got into my car at 8pm and drove to across town to the northern suburbs. The street was dark, lonely and dismal, except for that one little shop with its lights on. I walked in and oh my god sweet mother of sugar it was an ocean of baklavas, waves upon waves and stacks upon stacks of nothing but sugar syrup induced goodness telling me my life had meaning again. That was the only thing the shop had. Just baklavas. Every type you didn’t know existed. Stuff with cheese. Stuff with almonds. Stuff with cashews. Stuff with custard. Stuff with little flakes of paradise sprinkled on top, gently whispering ‘I love you.’ Stop everything you’re doing. Leave your assignment. Leave your readings. Leave your partner. Go to Al Mina. Move in there. Camp outside that place and eat nothing but the best baklavas in the world for the rest of your life. Don’t think of anything else. This is the only thing in our universe that’s beautiful, and you need to make it a part of your life. If everyone did that, the war would soon become a foreign concept.

RANTSPACE WORDS BY: R ACHEL CAINES ART WORK BY: MEL ANIE PERRE

‘DO YOU WANT SOME CHIPS?’ I’m sure this question would bring joy to most of you. After all, how many people can honestly say that they don’t want some chips? To me, this question is just the beginning of a spiral of confusion, anxiety, and, more often than not, disappointment. You see, I have a secret. A secret I know I share with many, and yet it still makes me an outsider. A secret that makes even this most basic of offerings fraught with unanswered questions. I understand the difference between chips and crisps. I know what you’re thinking (I mean, I don’t, but just go with it ok). Rachel, the word ‘crisp’ is an outdated British term and we don’t need it here in Australia. We’re

intelligent enough to differentiate between ‘hot chips’ and ‘crispy chips’ without needing two different words. Well, I respect your hypothetical opinion, but you’re wrong. You see, having two separate words to differentiate between hot chips and crisps is not only helpful, it’s vital. All too frequently I’ve been offered chips only to actually be handed a bowl of crisps, and honestly I don’t think I can adequately express my disappointment. I mean, crisps are great and all, but when you’re expecting a bowl of hot chips, ideally covered in chicken salt and/or gravy, a bowl of cold, broken crisps is kind of a let down. What if you’re on a night out, and someone offered you chips? Surely you’d be picturing them, fresh from

a definitely unclean but still glorious deep fryer, salty and steaming. Imagine your disappointment at realising they actually just meant a packet of crisps from behind the bar. And the worst flavour (because that’s just how these things seem to happen). That disappointment? That sinking feeling when you realised your steaming hot chips will have to stay in your imagination as an unfulfilled craving? That’s me whenever I’m offered ‘chips’. Sure, I guess we could say ‘hot chips’ and ‘chips’ and leave it at that, but why bother? Why overcomplicate something that’s already been catered for in the English language with two separate words? At lunch with a friend the other week we bonded over our mutual strong feelings about chips and crisps, and I can honestly say it brought us closer. Not only is it something we have in common, but now I know I never have to worry about him telling me he’s got chips, only to provide me with crisps. That’s true friendship. Perhaps you’re reading this thinking that I’m overreacting. I mean, there are so many serious problems in the world that I could rant about. Gender inequality. Something sportrelated. Family Feud (don’t even get me started). And whilst that’s true, I thought I’d take this time to write a rant that also serves as a public service announcement. Please stop offering people chips when you’re actually giving them crisps. It’s an unnecessary misunderstanding, and to be honest, it’s downright rude to get my hopes up like that. #crispsnotchips

MR STABLES AND MISS L’S CORRESPONDENCES Issue 4 (It’s a musical, a musical, a puffy piece releasing all your bluesicals): Dear Stables, what a splendid issue, the prologue to a brand new piece. What a piece, I’m impressed (Well, one does one’s best). Here’s to us! A toast to all of On Dit, what a pity that Miss L could not be here. Masquerade! Aliases on parade! Masquerade! Hide your name so the world will never know you. (And hide the original questions too).

tearing up Liberal Party property. Don’t I just love it –what I would love more is if those revolutionaries were true to Victor Hugo’s book, particularly during the ending of the barricade.

BUSTOPHER JONES – A silly question! How do we survive on a student budget and further, how do we adequately pay off our debts? Be born rich. You should stop being poor and just go and get some money. Like when I need money, I just ask dad, so you should try that too. Off you go, go and get rich and don’t just sit there thinking ‘If I were a rich man, yubby dibby dibby dibby dibby dibby dibby dum’.

MUNKUSTRAP – With the federal election will most likely be held this year so I wouldn’t be surprised if Shorten and Labour will do what they can to have the Turnbull vaulting (they’re revolting). It could even be very soon, with Turnbull’s threat to a double dissolution if parliament want to fight his bill (What? Fisticuffs?). While we try to be politically neutral (yeah we’re not very good at this) I think your question should more be more: ‘How on earth did Bill Shorten become leader of the Labour Party?’ rather than focusing on Turnbull. It’s always a laugh to see Shorten’s infantile sermons, as the multitude drools.

MACAVITY – Yes, it’s not surprising that the resident Marxists of Adelaide Uni are making the news. They are definitely not Friends of the ABC, nor to any liberals and any of the news channels, after going by the relatively recent ransacking of Cory Bernardi’s office. But I mean go them, right? We all love revolutions. We all love little Enjolras’ and little Grantaire’s waltzing around being revolting and vandalising walls and

TUMBLEBRUTUS – I wouldn’t be worried about work experience and internships if I were you. This talk about them abusing you and making you work long hours and doing all the shitty jobs like photocopying thousands of documents and making coffee for everyone in the office and all that jazz are all LIES. It’s really not a hard knock life being an intern. I’ve interned before, and I was treated quite nicely, I was even

given an office that was bigger than some people’s studios and bigger than most of the junior lawyers and personal assistants that were there. This definitely had nothing to do with me knowing the firm’s Mr Biggley. No way. JENNYANYDOTS – The best place to relax when you have some free time at uni really depends; If you’re the Oxbridge wannabe why not swing by and take a seat on the steps at Bonython Hall or Barr Smith Library? Maths Lawns and Barr Smith Lawns are also nice places if you like grass. And if you just want to ‘hang’ around the university bridge I’ve heard is a great place to swing by and spend those summer days, wasting away ‘till uh oh the summer nights. RUM TUM TUGGER – You should stop worrying about the situation in America because unfortunately as Adelaidean AUSTRALIAN, there is little we can do to change this. We can only sit and remember the times when the only Donald we talked about was the duck (and as Adelaide Uni students, we should endeavour to maintain this obsession with ducks). The Democrats can try any hand they have but the Republicans have the ultimate Trump card. And then when he’s leading the free world, I guess anything goes. It’ll just be like Springtime for Hitler and Germany.

DODGY CRAFTS WITH MADDY AND EM WORDS BY: MADDY SEXTON AND EMILY HART

GLAM ROCK PAPER (SCISSORS) It’s April, so let’s make wrapping paper. YOU WILL NEED: Clear contact (the stuff mum covered your maths books with, but not the Spiderman stuff. It should be going really cheap now because school has been back for ages (suckers).) Newspaper Coloured paper offcuts (flyers, bills, government notices) Hole punch Glitter Brown paper OKEY DOKE, STEP ONE: Cover your work surface/entire house with newspaper (because glitter is a bitch. A beautiful, messy bitch). STEP TWO: Cut your contact to the size you want your wrapping paper to be. It is easier (and more fun!) to make multiple, single-use sheets instead of one huge piece because, contact.

Lay it out flat on your newspaper surface, but keep the backing paper on for now. STEP THREE: We should probably have done this step earlier but empty your hole punch, stack up your paper offcuts to the amount it can handle and start hole punching. You may have to separate it out a bit but you should end up with some wedding-worthy confetti! Resist the urge to instantly throw the confetti everywhere in an imaginary wedding (to yourself ). STEP FOUR: Carefully peel off the back of the contact. Just because you are old doesn’t mean you will be any better at this, so take your time. Now start sprinkling your confetti onto the sticky contact side with gay abandon. You may want to leave it there, or you may want to also add glitter. Or just do glitter. Or hundreds and thousands. Or cereal. Or tinsel hair

clippings (much festive). Maybe not real hair clippings, unless you are very weird. You do you. STEP FIVE: Once you have your desired superfun party effect, cut some brown paper to roughly the same size as your contact and stick this down as the top layer of your wrapping paper sandwich. If you have very good fine motor skills, you could use the contact on both sides to make celebratory raffle-hamper cellophane. *** Use your wrapping paper to make your dodgy budget presents seem jazzier. Otherwise it also makes very budget art or budget placemats. Budget.

inside: brydie kosmina quits sugar, lara junghardt

walks us

t h r o u g h b i n g e e at i n g , a n d w e w r i t e a l o v e l e t t e r t o b a k l ava s

uofa student magazine

- issue 84.4