debate ISSUE 18 | AUGUST 2015
CREDITS EDITOR Laurien Barks laurien.barks@aut.ac.nz SUB-EDITORS Matthew Cattin Amelia Petrovich Julie Cleaver
CONTENTS
DESIGNERS Ramina Rai Logan Gubb CONTRIBUTORS Amelia Petrovich, Matthew Cattin, Kieran Bennett, Emma Wingrove, Ethan Sills, Julie Cleaver, Rachel Barker, Caterina Atkinson, Naomi Currie, Alice Cooper, Shawn Cleaver, Tyler Hinde, Logan Gubb ADVERTISING Harriet Smythe hsmythe@aut.ac.nz
Contributions can be sent to
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Pg 3 Editor’s Letter
Pg 20 Hide and Sweet
Pg 5 Prez Sez
Pg 21 Adventure Internally
Pg 6 Neuro-Diverting
Pg 22 ReikiPg 24 Diversity Week Profiles
Pg 8 Red, White and Blue
Pg 26 I Survived Living in a Korean Cult
Pg 10 In Short
Pg 30 Backpack Paperbacks
Pg 11 5 Myths of Global Warming
Pg 32 Why Winter is Colder Now
Pg 12 Move Over Comicon
Pg 34 Survival of the Fittest
Pg 14 #collarbonechallenge
Pg36 InterNZ Profiles
Pg 15 My Ex, Excema
Pg38 Reviews
Pg 16 Toxic People
Pg 40 Recipe
Pg 17 Cool Shit
Pg 42 Puzzles
Pg 18 What the Frack is Fracking? Cover illustration by Tyler Hinde CITY CAMPUS
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EVENTS Carl Ewen carl.ewen@aut.ac.nz
that fails us, nor is it a lack of caring. It’s a lack of relatability. It’s a lack of an issue hitting close enough to home to stir emotion. And that lack of relatability doesn’t make us heartless or cruel, it makes us human. We are not psychologically wired to be empathetically and emotionally drawn to issues that we are not connected to in some way. And if a connection is to be made, this will more often than not take place amongst the specifics of a problem, rather than the broad.
E D I TO R ' S
L E T T E R
Hello Everyone, As of the writing date of this piece, the internet is still pretty warm with the embers of the “Cecil the Lion” fire. Like the horrifying selfies of Kendall Jones (hot, cheerleader hunter) and the occasional tweets from Ricky Gervais, Walter Palmer’s ‘mistake’ has sparked a mob-esque collective fury toward the practice of trophy hunting in Africa. With Palmer now facing threats of extradition, and a consequent trial with the potential result of up to ten years in a Zimbabwean prison, there’s no mistaking the severity of his actions. The world had a right to react in the way that it did. A life was lost - an endangered life was lost – so a rich white American could hang a lion’s head over the bar in his billiard room. It’s a problem that I’ve been looking to address for weeks in this magazine. The selfishness and problematic outcomes of trophy hunting, the bullshit that is the ‘it’s helping conservation’ excuse, and the alternative solutions for those who make their living off of these practices. I did a lot of research for the article-in-the-making, and I encourage each and every one of you to educate yourselves on this issue. And it’s because of that research and education that I’m going to ditch my findings completely, abandon the factual article, and leave it up to you to learn about it yourselves. I’ve recently come across a new tangent that I think needs to be explored. “Something to think about - What’s worse: to hunt a lion in Africa or not to care about Africa except when someone hunts a lion?” is not the first headline of its nature that I’ve come across as of late. Trivialising things like Cecil’s death with labels like ‘not a real problem’ inadvertently discards an incredibly effective tool against broader issues: emotion. Yes, there are bigger things to worry about in Africa – there is a huge market catering to trophy hunting, there is crime, there is starvation, there is unfathomable child poverty – and we’re all aware of it. It is not ignorance
Cecil the lion is a specific. He is a named, exotic, and beautiful creature, that many Western tourists have had the pleasure of seeing. His name, fame, and singularity make him an easy connection; a specific example of a broad problem. Just as the kidnapped Nigerian school girls gave us a single link to a violent, larger issue; gave us something to sink our teeth into and protest against, Cecil has given us a key to channel the emotions that motivate change. Cecil the lion’s death IS a problem, and should not be brushed aside as comparatively irrelevant. Cecil’s death has encouraged research, protests, and demands of justice that automatically open up a world of knowledge on the broader issue at large. There are discussions taking place, there are editorials being written, and with each and every headline, blog, and status rant, we move farther from the ‘a single lion is dead’ outskirts, and deeper into the heart of the matter. When the concerns for Cecil are discouraged, so too are the desires to educate, research, and protest against his death, and the cause of it. Instead of “Oh? So you care about a lion, but not about anything else that’s happening?” people should be saying “Yes, this is happening, this is a problem, it leads to _____ and if we don’t stop this, _____ is going to happen”. One brings shame to feeling emotion about a worthwhile issue, the other utilizes it. One surrenders, the other fights – even if it is only for a little while. It happens with every issue. Self-proclaimed ‘worldly’ realists picking apart what they deem to be a superficial problem, and taking it upon themselves to remind us that ‘unnamed lions are killed every day’, ‘children are starving to death’, ‘terrorist attacks happen everywhere, not just America…’, etc. Well, unless you’re living your life fighting the good fight day in and day out to end these issues, I call hypocrite. It seems concern for these ‘real’ issues only ever arises alongside the Cecil and 9/11 headlines of the world, the only difference between the focuses being the willingness to take action. We should be encouraging the general public’s concern for an issue that goes beyond reality television and a Prime Minister’s handsy antics, not shitting on it. There’s your something to think about. Laurien 3
Librarian of the Week
Matthew Banks sports and Recreation Secondary Teaching & Career Development
Kia Ora, I’m a Liaison Librarian at AUT’s North Campus. I’m part of a team that is here to support AUT students and staff at all levels with their teaching, learning and research needs. Research is the foundation of any good assignment, essay, dissertation or thesis. Finding the right academic resources will help you clarify your thoughts and improve your writing. Online research looks easy at first. All you have to do is type a couple of keywords into a search box and up comes a list of results, right? Like magic! Occasionally this might be true but more often than not, there’s a lot more to it than that, especially to get the information you really want. There’s a lot more information sitting beyond initial search results that you might not be reaching. I can help you find specialised resources for your specific information needs, and teach you the tricks and techniques of online research that will help you find more relevant information, faster. Our service isn’t just for beginners or those unfamiliar with the Library. If you’re a novice, I can help you get started. If you’re an experienced researcher, I can help you refine your methods and introduce you to new research tools. You can contact me by email, phone or come in to the library for a chat. I’m available for quick queries, or for longer one to one research consultations. Just get in touch, especially if you want help with: • • • • •
Reliable information for assignments Resources in your subject area Effective online research Advanced research techniques and tools Help using Endnote
Matthew Banks Liaison Librarian
matthew.banks@aut.ac.nz 921 9999 ext 7709 North Campus Library, Room AL110
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PREZ SEZ going on right now and I advise that you take advantage of the opportunities you have this week. Keep an eye out for the events that are going on via the AUT or AuSM Facebook page. There will be competitions and prizes up for grabs this week so definitely get involved. This week also raises awareness for what is happening around the world addresses issues that may not be happening in New Zealand. Please take notice of the students around you who may not have had the same opportunity or upbringing as you. Often we take advantage of the environment New Zealand has to offer, one in which we have equal rights. In many countries this is not the case. Please familiarise yourself with issues that are happening in the world and be thankful for the environment we have in New Zealand. We are truly blessed to be from a country that promotes freedom, equality and rights!
PREZ
SEZ
Kia Ora AuSMers, My name is April Pokino, and I am the student president of the Auckland Student Movement (AuSM). DIVERSITY WEEK IS FINALLY HERE! This week is one of my favourite times of the year, as we get to celebrate in AUT’s diverse culture. AUT has so much to offer with the variety of ethnicities, cultures and identities. There is so much
On another note, my term of office as president is coming to an end. The elections have started for the next person in line so I suggest you get out and vote for the candidate to represent AuSM. Get out and meet potential candidates and make sure your vote counts! If you have any problems, please don’t hesitate to email me. All the best with your studies this week. April Pokino XOXO
this year is ‘Celebrate Diversity in Action: awareness through involvement’. Thier emphasis is on increasing responsiveness of the AUT community to diversity by providing forums and activities for students and staff to participate in, and actively engage with people from diverse backgrounds and multiple identities. It explores diversity issues relating to ethnicity and unconscious bias, disability and sexual identity, friendship and interfaith, etc. If you want to know more, follow this link! http://www.aut.ac.nz/__data/ assets/pdf_file/0007/577816/Diversity-Week-Flyer_student.pdf
VICE
PREZ
SEZ
This week free feeds will be changing up on every campus to try and be diverse with our food. So out South you will be getting Sushi! North you will be getting Mexican, and for the City it is German sausages. For those of you who don’t know, AuSM provides a free feed every week throughout the semester. The food changes all the time but the day and the place stays the same. Monday is outside the AuSM lounge, or on the tennis courts at 12 on South campus. North, yours is every Tuesday at the Awataha plaza at 12, and City, you guys are on a Thursday in the Hikuwai plaza at 12. For those who think the line is too long, trust me, the wait is minimal, and some weeks it is truly worth it. You are always welcome to line back up for seconds, and we always try to have a vegetarian option. If you have any ideas for some free feeds, give us a email and we will try make it work.
Kia ora AuSMers, Welcome back to another week of Debate and Vice Prez Sez. I am going to be honest with you guys, I find it very hard to write every week - I never know what to talk about. There aren’t any guide lines or retrictions apart from word count. What I do is try and keep you updated about what is happening, or talk about one of the six services AuSM has to offer. I never feel like I keep it interesting enough; I am very unsure of what people want to read about, so I am sorry. Please send me any feedback about what you’d like to see me write about.
Make sure you guys all keep up the hard work. I know how hard this time of year is. It feels like we all just got hit by a bus load of work. Just keep chipping away at it and make little jobs that are easy to get done until you get to the end result! A few tips from personal experince is plan in your diary every hour of the day, and to-do lists are the best. I live by them.
So what is happening this week? It happens to be Diversity Week. AUT and AuSM are jointly hosting thier second Annual Diversity Week from August 10th – 14th 2015. The theme for
Chantal Sutherland
“Believe in yourself, take on your challenges, dig deep within yourself to conquer fears. Never let anyone bring you down. You got to keep going.”
5
NEURO-DIVERTING Amelia Petrovich I don’t know about you, but I’m really into using complicated words. It’s less about sounding clever and more about having something fun to pronounce and play with. Anything with a lot of consonants to skitter over, or a plethora of vowel sounds will immediately catch my attention, I’ll have to look it up and start using it as soon as possible. A new word serendipitously (see?) gifted to me recently is “neurodiversity”, sounding very much like exclusive doctorspeak until I actually bothered finding out what it meant. The term “neurodiversity” was coined in the 1990s and attributed to Judy Singer, an Australian social scientist who was on the autism spectrum herself. It describes the belief that different neurological (or ‘mental’) conditions should be accepted and embraced by society rather than seen as things that need to be cured. The term was once used mainly by those on the autism spectrum, but has now been adopted by a many “neuro-divergents” who consider conditions like autism, aspergers syndrome, dyslexia and dyspraxia inherent parts of who they are. We generally accept that society is diverse in many ways (racially, generationally, financially); the neurodiversity movement looks at mental diversity specifically, keen for everybody to embrace this as a human truth.
I guess it’s a little like saying “we all work differently, but that’s okay,” because when in life are you ever going to sit alongside people who work exactly like you do? We all have different tastes (and that’s okay), we all have different strengths (which is totally okay) and we all rationalize differently (again, very okay), to me it only makes sense to accept the fact that we are all neurologically different too. Apparently not everybody is so chill with neurological difference though. Historically speaking, there’s been lots of chat and research about potential cures and treatments for mental conditions but not a whole lot of thought put into how to help neuro-divergents themselves. Author John Elder Robinson argues that, if neurodiversity was a widely accepted thought, society would probably be a more accommodating place for all people, not just those who operate “neuro-typically”. Robinson explains that, instead of agonizing over why neurological difference happens, maybe what we should be doing is researching ways to better accommodate people. Imagine a world so obsessed with discovering the exact reason people are born left-handed that nobody thought to invent left-handed scissors, that’s kind of what we’re dealing with here. However, it’s also pretty important to remember that not all of those affected by a mental condition are keen on neurodiversity as a concept. Autistic bloggers, Jake Crosby and Jonathan Mitchell, have both written
about how this kind of thinking undermines autism as a “true” disability, talking specifically about how a condition like this often causes more distress than joy. There are people who argue that, if certain mental conditions are simply accepted as “differences” rather than debilitating illnesses, it may actually decrease the chance of those suffering receiving any form of job/ educational support or financial assistance (which really would be a bit horrible). Despite this kind of critique, John Elder Robinson has stuck to his guns (good old John), maintaining that we can “accept that neurological difference is a natural part of us while still working hard to minimize to eliminate its negative effects”. Robinson isn’t saying that neurodivergents don’t suffer or need help, merely that they aren’t in need of fixing and instead could really do with a bit of chill and acceptance all up in here. So I guess what’s really happened is that my new, big word has lead me to a new, big social movement to be interested in and that is bloody fantastic! No matter your stance, neurodiversity is a topic that polarizes and sparks debate- obviously in need of a good read up and well worth the extra “logging-onto-the-internet-and-not-going-straight-toFacebook” effort. It seems to me that we’re already living in a word that’s neurologically diverse, but maybe one day we’ll be clued up enough to act on it too.
7
Mathew Cattin | Illustration by Tyler Hinde
Gatsby… The Great Gatsby. He who lives in the mansion by the lake. It was he I thought of as I strolled down the sloping lawn towards the pleasure boat moored at the dock. Thatcher, the pet fox, trotted by on his chain, panting in the summer afternoon air. In my bare feet, borrowed yellow boardies, and bewildered eyes, I felt out of place and foreign in this home of milk and honey. How did I end up here? I lucked out, to put it simply. For one beautiful afternoon, I lived the American dream. I shed my silver and black outfit for one of red, white and blue. Here’s how it happened. For a week I lived on a couch in Seattle. Jacked up by a mutual friend, I scored a comfortable five seater in a student flat with seven other boys, none of whom I had ever met before. It was a great time. Like a stamp on a passport, I was their foreign slice of life, talking Lord of the Rings, my perceptions of America, and of course, my humble home at the bottom of the world. By day I explored the Seattle streets by foot, taking in the markets, the abundance of Starbucks, the art scene and the record stores. It’s a beautiful city that I really would recommend – you’ll feel at home the moment you see its uncanny resemblance to Auckland. On my last day before moving on to San Francisco, my dear friend took me to visit her old flat mate at his parent’s home. A mansion that is never locked, the lavish doors welcomed me in. I should probably have guessed its grandeur by the ornaments in the front garden, but nothing could have prepped me for what I saw; high ceilings, oil paintings, extraordinary dining tables, and a view of the lake to match. This was the real deal - the elusive American dream. Walking down the manicured lawn to the boat, I absolutely shit you not, two bald eagles swooped low over the lake and perched themselves high up in a tree. A single tear fell from my eye, spelling the word ‘freedom’ as it raced down my cheek and fell to the manicured earth. What was this utopia? I laughed out loud at the clichéd absurdity of it all. After each signing a waiver to say we wouldn’t sue if accidentally injured (America…), we set off onto the lake, eight or so beautiful, beautiful people, and me. With their interesting tattoos, impossibly defined abdomens, piercings, tans, and general aura of confidence and success, I felt like a small-town intruder of a super-powered backyard – ordinary and small. But hell, when in Rome, right? I just had to laugh and enjoy the ride.
With The Killers’ Runaways and Springsteen’s Born in the USA thumping from the boat’s sound system, I felt like I was borrowing a life. For a few hours, I was living a sun-filtered lie of perfect teeth, college funds and blue blood, all the while knowing if I pinched myself, I’d wake up to the ashes of a memory, in my weird and wonderful land of ferns and flightless birds. It felt unreal, and sitting here in a San Francisco café, I’m beginning to suspect it was nought but a dream. A beautiful red-head sat in the front, her hair positively glowing in the late afternoon sun. Out back, a rippedas-papier-mâché fella wake surfed our trail of summer freedom, his sleeved arms swaying as he weaved on the wake. Blue skies, red sun burn, white privilege. This was the America described in The National’s lyrics, the America despaired over by Springsteen, the America dreamers and opportunists live in hope for. It was scarily close to cliché… I was living in an American horror film - just one of the dumb, happy victims, enjoying the exhilaration of youth before nightfall where my face would be eaten off. But - and here’s the plot twist – one thing I didn’t expect in this cliché dream was the generosity, the kindness, and the openness of all the Americans I encountered. They opened their homes to me, treated me with interest and warmth, and made me feel incredibly welcome. They weren’t Clueless, and they weren’t The OC. They were delightful. What really struck me was the hidden insecurity that seemed to lurk heavy in the hearts of those I spoke to. Proud as proud can be of their country (which, in my opinion, is a good thing), they seemed to worry a lot about how I perceived their culture. I was constantly asked what New Zealanders thought about the silly Americans, whether we scoffed at their loud mouthed and meddlesome ways. I was honest. I told them they weren’t everybody’s cup of tea, and that most perceptions I hear of America is fairly negative. They accepted it with resigned expressions, only perking up when I added that I had had nothing but good experiences with the culture since crossing the border. Like dogs that know they’ve misbehaved, however, the everyday Americans I met seemed apologetic on behalf of their nation. And several thousand miles away from home, I smiled every day thinking about how proud I was of my own. God bless New Zealand :’)
9
IN SHORT
Freight Lines to Be Replaced With Strong-Willed Bicyclists Kieran Bennet
The nation’s train lanes are set to be replaced with strongwilled bicyclists after a treasury report concluded that trains were not only unprofitable, but very uncool. The report, released a few weeks ago, was the result of hours of looking at trains, talking about trains and comparing them to things like spaceships. Originally the treasury was tasked with determining if a complete, nationwide rail network was feasible; though the investigation found otherwise. Researchers preliminary data gave an impression that trains were not yet at peak levels of efficiency, but were also only for "huge fucking nerds". As the investigation progressed, the complete unprofitability of trains, in addition to their incredible uncoolness only became more apparent. A copy of the report obtained by debate has several chapters devoted to the total running costs of the current rail network and how it would compare to a network of warp-driven cyborg dinosaurs in terms of "total radness". Now the treasury has advised that the rail network be replaced with a large group of strong willed cyclists. "We're already resigned to how seriously not swag this whole thing is, so fuck it, let’s make it really uncool, and save some change" was the statement offered by a treasury representative. He then went on to explain that the treasury had a vision of around 100 middle aged guys on bikes, going up and down the country. To cut costs the cyclists would work for tips and be required to make terrible puns and wear outdated, neon lycra.
Toddlers Sent Home For Picking Noses Kieran Bennet
A group of toddlers at a Rotorua daycare have all been sent home after a teacher was offended by the students picking their noses. The teacher felt that the nose picking was a personal affront to her and so sent all of the toddlers home with strongly worded notes to their parents. Reaction to the nose picking and the decision to send the children home has been mixed. The school board has stood by the teacher, who did not wish to be named, saying that when children do childish things, it was important that they take it as a deeply felt insult. Speaking to press, board head Mellissa Ethridge said "you have to understand here, our self-worth is quite low. Also, we have zero recollection of what we were like as children. So you can understand why we're so outraged". Many teachers unions and similar groups have expressed their support as well, adding that when they were young, they would have never picked their noses and that this instance was a clear sign of the degradation of the day’s youth and nostrils.
The plan has been slammed by several concerned groups, including the Train Preservation Society and the Collective Against Uncool Shit. Both groups released statements declaring that they would do all they could to stop the plan, with the TPS staging a nationwide protest, while the CAUS would do its best to look sort of uninterested.
The parents of the children, however, have been quick to support their children, saying that nose picking was a key activity in exercising free speech. When questioned as to whether the nose picking was in fact disrespectful, if not just a bit gross, one parent paused only to adjust his horse blinders before completely denying any wrong doing on his child's part. Several parents could not be reached for comment at all due to the fact that they had filled their ears with carrots and were simply screaming incoherently.
No concrete action has yet been taken, however, with a referendum on the subject set to take place with the one and only question being "How much of a square are you?"
The children themselves have been fairly ambivalent about the situation with all of them moving to Australia due to newly relaxed nose picking laws.
SMILE SPORTY CHILD Amelia Petrovich
As Debate’s resident sports expert, it’s my job to inform you that over the mid-year break, the dudes playing the Super Football thing did the stuff with mixed results. It was a game of two halves with more than a few passes and ultimately one team won (I think). All in all, it was pretty good. Just kidding (shocker), I know sweet f-all about sports. But what I’ve learned recently is that maybe I know a little bit about how to engage in sports. I use the term “engage” very loosely, as in, I don’t partake in or actively follow sport at all, but I do kind of listen to tales of it with mild interest. Sport is really wonderful, don’t get me wrong! It fosters teamwork, balances leadership and determination, which is super- I’d just rather hear about other people developing all of that than having to leave my warm house on a Saturday morning and do it myself. My own contribution to New Zealand sport is simply staying interested and up to date. Our national identity is largely constructed around sport, many of us growing up with it instilled in our minds as something uniquely “Kiwi”. We are rugby players, netballers and cricketers, we’re champions and we’re fighters, we’re all in this together and we came to win. It’s this kind of mentality that makes sporting events such a huge deal throughout the country, so much so that even people like me are inclined to follow what’s happening just a wee bit. I follow sport but I don’t obsess, and I’m starting to think that I might be onto something. It’s incredible to be passionate about things but there are also people in this country who are inclined to do serious damage if ‘their’ team doesn’t come out on top, and that’s not cool at all. Of course, I speak partly in extremes here, but I kind of feel like if sports results throw off your emotional balance for an extended period of time, you’re doing things a bit wrong. I’m a Hurricanes supporter, they seem like cool guys and they work really hard just like every other Super Rugby team, I assume. These guys lost to The Highlanders in Wellington over mid-semester break, which was shitty and unfortunate for them. They’re my favourites, so I guess it could have been nicer if the outcome was different, but in the grand scheme of things it’s not really affecting my life all that much. I may feel sorry for them, but my degree of emotional detachment means that I can watch them lose, acknowledge the hard work both teams put in, and go about my life without having to bellow at strangers on the street or arm-wrestle grizzly bears to vent my rage. Maybe this isn’t how sport works, maybe I’m missing the point, I don’t know. It’s just unfathomable to me that people could allow their love for rugby (or netball, or lawn bowls, or whatever) to be overshadowed by crazy rage. By all means watch the game, shout for your team, feel bad for them if they lose, but then wake up the next morning and move on with your own exciting and complex life. Like, sports are cool and it’s neat watching the people kick the ball into the hoop to score the things and stuff, but none of it is worthy of sapping your personal happiness supply.
11
Recently in America, perhaps the biggest global event on the ‘geek’ calendar took place: the San Diego ComicCon International. The event, which takes place across five days, draws tens of thousands of fans from various genres to the state every year. Some of the biggest movies and TV shows take to the various stages to answer fan questions and provide sneak previews, and the ballrooms and halls fill up with displays, stalls and smaller panels giving various mediums the chance to sell their wares. For a few years now, I have lamented to fellow nerdy friends how poor the New Zealand conventions seem in comparison. We rarely get top name guests, and the lines to meet them are so long it takes some of the fun away from it. Queues for food and bathrooms are insane, there’s no reception in the hall, it’s always too crowded, most of the stalls are outrageously overpriced – I could keep going for a long time.
MOVE OVER
COMIC
CON
GIVE ME ARMAGEDDON ANY DAY OF THE
WEEK Ethan Sills
I have always thought it would be so much better to go to Comic-Con instead: they have real celebrities, big news gets broken there, and there is exclusive merchandise, stalls, events; just exclusive everything, all day every day. Going there would be some sort of nerdy pilgrimage, like returning to Jerusalem, but with more Game of Thrones and less praying. However, while waiting for the big news to start rolling in from this year’s Comic-Con, I read some articles and watched videos about what it is like there. And with each line I read and each second of fan-made content I viewed, I realised just how lucky we are to have such small, seemingly-terrible conventions. Firstly, the lines. I always thought the queues at Armageddon were terrible, and then I read a bit about Comic-Con. Waiting one hour for hot chips must be a few minutes compared to what those people go through. Some panels you have to wait overnight for, just to stand a chance of getting in, and there is no guarantee you will actually get a seat at the end of it. Imagine spending all day in the hot sun, probably in some sort of costume you spent several months making, waiting to get into a panel and see Harrison Ford or Ben Affleck or whoever and ask them a question, and never get the opportunity. It makes me feel a lot better about waiting two hours to get Luna Lovegood’s autograph.
Secondly, the exclusivity of the convention is not what it once was. For a bit of background, you should know the panels are notoriously hard to get into: only 6000 people can fit inside Hall H, the biggest room where basically all the really big brands go (Marvel, DC, and Star Wars to name a few). Before the time of smart phones and YouTube, whatever went on behind those doors would have only been known to those several thousand people, and only reported to the wider world hours, days, maybe even weeks later. I have imagined for some years how great that experience would be, in the same room as celebrities I admire, to be right there when some huge piece of news breaks or someone says something hilarious/amazing/insightful/revealing. Can you imagine what it would feel like to be one of a relatively select few in the world to be the first to hear about some huge movie being announced, or be sold on something by your favourite star? Now, the internet has largely diminished the uniqueness of being there. Within seconds of something happening, there will be a tweet or status online regaling the news for the rest of the world to hear. I can go to a dozen websites and read all the main quotes and revelations from each panel and watch whatever hilarious moment happened. Half the ‘Comic-Con exclusive trailers’ go online within minutes, and there will be detailed recaps of the footage or behind the scenes images shown to tide you over until that eventually happens. And I can do so without having to sit in the middle of 5999 people, all of whom are screaming, crying, sweating, breathing, oozing around me. Sure, I am missing out on the experience, but you go to those panels to get the news and the humour, and now you can get all that without having to wait in line for twelve hours. Thirdly, it is basically a giant money making machine. There is a reason why so many A-list celebrities from big name properties go there: these people want your money. Comic-Con
is basically like any convention where people are trying to sell you something. You only have to look at pictures of how plastered San Diego becomes in publicity posters and stalls to see how truly commercial it all is: decorating entire hotel suites, designing personalised buggies, installing fairground rides, virtual reality experiences: they aren’t doing that because they are generous people who love their fans, they want you to buy a movie ticket/watch the show/give them money. That is probably quite a cynical view, and I know a lot of geek celebrities genuinely enjoy going to these events, and a lot of people with too much money happily spend their dough on all that stuff. Yet something that should be a proper celebration of movies, television and fandom has become a heavily commercialised entity. Occasionally, something unique and magical will happen that you will have to be there to truly appreciate. But with so much happening and so many places to be, you could always go to one place hoping for the best and end up missing something else entirely. And as I write this, there have been no insanely huge announcements dropped: only trailers, all of which either leaked online or got officially released soon after anyway. After seeing all this, I am rather pleased with what we get here in New Zealand. The guests may not be great, but there is always one biggish star who comes, and their presence is all the more appreciated and savoured as a result.. It is crowded, stifling, confusingly laid out and has horrible queues, but only a couple of thousand people go through there – if I don’t like being cramped at Armageddon, I can’t imagine how uncomfortable that experience would be in Comic-Con. Basically, it is quaint, small and has a number of faults that make it slightly enjoyable (frankly like most things in New Zealand). One day, I will make the long pilgrimage to San Diego and cross Comic-Con off my bucket list. But, for the time being, I am fine with settling for Armageddon: I think I have to appreciate that before I can handle the king of conventions. 13
#COLLARBONE
CHALLENGE Amelia Petrovich | Illustration by Logan Gubb
I think I’m officially quitting the internet. It’s been kind of nice to me in some ways, free content is super fun, but god am I getting tired of its bullshit. Picture it for a second, I’m scrolling around marginally trashy articles having a fabulous old time as per always. There’s one about a tapeworm found inside a kid’s eyeball or something, but other than that things are looking fine. I’m clicking away at whatever is looking good and suddenly I’m confronted with a stack of spare change and someone’s creamy, exposed neck all up in my face. What the hell? Joy of joys, it’s another body-shaming Instagram trend. To usher us all into the second half of 2015, some callous devil has dreamed up the #CollarboneChallenge, in which people picture themselves balancing coins, fruit or even cups of coffee on their delightfully protruding collarbones. Apparently, rather than simply being a result of an individual’s anatomical make-up and inherited bonestructure, protruding collarbones are actually an indicator of how sexy, slender and fabulous you are as a complete human being. According to Stuff.co.nz, the #CollarboneChallenge is being championed by the same Chinese social media website (Weibo) that got stuck into the Bellybutton Challenge (which involves bending one arm around your own back to be able to touch your bellybutton, if for some unfathomable reason you wanted to dislocate your shoulder and give it a go). There is so much wrong with this, I don’t even know which channel of stupidity to direct my surge of rage down first. It’s a plethora of idiocy. Chinese news site Sina News deems clavicle coin-stacking “skinny” or “sexy”, and I literally witnessed a Durex ad featuring a vibrator resting on a woman’s collarbone. How has this happened?
There isn’t anything wrong with celebrating the human form, but bones just can’t be indicative of sex appeal for absolutely everybody (literal, skeletal bones obviously, get that mind out of the gutter). What’s more, prominent collarbones are not always even an indicator of overall physique or general health. We all have collarbones and we are also all different shapes, it makes sense that some people’s are kind of sticky out-y, right? I have a bone in my thumb that sticks out a lot too, but all that indicates is bone structure. I could be a sumo-wrestler, I could be a cyclist, I could be the healthiest person in Auckland or the least healthy, and no amount of coins stacked on my slightly protruding bones are going to accurately communicate that. And even if, in some black and white lil' universe, completing the #CollarboneChallenge did mean you were slim, who the hell cares? I mean, if that’s the way you are and you’re proud then obviously good for you, but don’t make a goddamn hash-tag challenge out of it like it’s some kind of admirable ideal. Body pride is admirable, loving your own physical make up is admirable, but challenging others to conform to a single stale beauty standard is all types of silly. I feel like a worn out parent, I’m at my wits’ end. I honestly thought we had been through this kind of thing as a cosy, internet-family and were home free. But hey, it looks like we’re back to the drawing board for this one. Internet, I’ll give you until I count to ten to sort your crazy fitspo, bodyshaming shit out… …but after that, I really will start to get cross.
MY EX, ECZEMA Julie Cleaver If you’ve never had eczema, consider yourself lucky. If you have suffered from it, I feel your pain. Eczema, pronounced in New Zealand like EX-MA, is an evil little rash commonly found in the joints between people’s elbows and underneath their knees. I’ve had eczema ever since I was a kid, but unlike most people, for me it hasn’t gone away with age. It’s continued to stain my beautiful skin with its red, devilish signature. Eczema feels like having fire ants permanently crawling on your body, burning you skin, eating your flesh alive. And then there’s the itching. The eternally itchy skin which only bleeds and feels worse after scratching it. To make matters even worse, there’s no definitive cause or cure for eczema, or so I thought… On my courageous pursuit to banish eczema from my body, I’ve tried enough fad diets to get me a coffee date with any Remuera mum alive. I’ve cut out sugar, (my one true love), dairy, (my other true love), acidic fruits, and other ridiculous diets that sucked. Unfortunately, (or fortunately, depending on which way you look at it) none of these regimes worked. Oh and my eczema didn’t heal itself either… I’ll have to let the mums know next time I’m at Nosh. I’ve also been to hundreds of different doctors (okay more like four, but still, that’s quite a few). The docs all prescribed me with different creams and ointments that were supposed to heal my skin faster than Nurse Joy can heal Pokémon. But after vigilant application, my eczema remained on my skin: proud, loud and red, like a drunk Crusaders fan. I even went to see a naturopath. After spending an hour with the only doctor I’ve ever met to wear hippy pants, I walked away with fifty dollars worth of daisy ointment and a whole new understanding of the word organic. I tried my best to embrace my inner Zen by rubbing the earthy goop all over my body daily, but after weeks, there was still no improvement.
I tried some very strange things - desperate times my friends, desperate times. I’ve refrained from taking hot showers for a month, rubbed moisturizer on my skin made from lamb placenta, and even tried bathing in all sorts of random substances. One day when I was sitting in a bath full of ground oatmeal (which is apparently good for people with eczema, unless someone online was just trolling) I decided that enough was enough. There was no obvious cause to my eczema or cure, so I only had one option left: to use my brain to vanish it from existence.
The docs all prescribed me with different creams and ointments that were supposed to heal my skin faster than Nurse Joy can heal Pokémon. But after vigilant application, my eczema remained on my skin: proud, loud and red, like a drunk Crusaders fan. To do this, I stopped believing I had eczema. I ignored it. Pretended it didn’t exist. Didn’t txt it back. Deleted it from Facebook. Whatever. In my head, it was gone. And to my amazement, and I guess now yours, it eventually went away. The only thing powerful enough to heal my eczema was my own mind. There’s a lot of research done into the power of our brains. We’ve all heard about the placebo effect, right? When people are told they are given medicine to heal their illnesses and the amazing pills work, but it was really just sugar pills all along. Well now the science community has my own empirical research to back up the discoveries those novices at Harvard made. We all suffer from something, whether it’s eczema, depression, or just toe cramps, and perhaps the cure to our problems is not right in front of our eyes, but right between them.
TOXIC
PEOPLE Rachel Barker
I once read a quote that said "between the ages of 18 and 22, you meet a lot of temporary people”, and over the past years I have found it to be absolutely true. People I thought I would be best friends with forever and stayed up until four in the morning talking to, became people I could barely exchange glances with in later months. Sometimes there is no reason, it just happens, but it's good to understand that although a lot of people you may want to stay trickle in and out of your life, new people will always come along at the same speed. More and more I try to choose to notice those entering my life as opposed to the ones exiting. There were two friendships I made in recent years that I believed would be infinite and remain exciting and joyful for ever and ever and ever. These friendships were intense and hilarious and shocking, and often times exhausting- but when all the excitement of discovering a new person disappeared, I realised there was a lack in the basis of the friendship. No similar interests, passions, views... but some kind of fire. Fire, however, always blows itself out in time, whether that be a spectacular display or a slow dampening. We often see only positive and have a tendency to ignore the negatives because we are wrapped up in the fast pace of it all. This doesn’t even mean you have to grow to dislike the person, just realise things might not be quite right. There are some people you will always deeply care for, but sometimes they just change, so be prepared for it. Slow-burning friendships, I have learned, seem to have found more importance in my life in the long run. There are other forms of friendship and relationships, however, which seem to extinguish with more than just a fizzle. From some friendships you get nothing. People will constantly criticize you, ignore your problems, and desert you when you most need them. No matter how much fun you might sometimes have with these people, you will always be the one who ends up getting burned. Ditch them. It can be hard to leave behind people you once had fun with, or thought you'd loved, but if you're getting nothing from the friendship (and I do not say this with arrogance or self-interest, but every friendship needs some level of reciprocation/ care/attention/support) but negativity, then get on and do it! I had one friend this year who, although we had a good laugh, when I removed the humour, I began to feel uncomfortable. With the more I learned about feminism and sexual abuse, I realised I actually strongly disliked the person, and they had no further interest in me beyond the fact that I was a girl they thought they might one day be able to mess around with. Don't give them what they don't give you, and then see if the friendship has anything left to stand on- often not. It may sound hard to ditch a toxic friend, but once you realise what is happening, walking out the door becomes the easiest thing you’ve ever done. You do not need to be cruel, or showy, or on the other end of the scale feeling bad about leaving someone behind. It’s okay to care about your own wellbeing mentally, socially, and physically, and it’s okay to ditch those who don’t.
COOL SHIT
DOUBLE DOUBLE We’ve got a double giveaway in this week’s Cool Shit, and what’s more, we’ve doubled the double giveaway! Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat!? Everyone has two chances to win the prizes this week, so get on it!
FLY, FLY AWAY This week, Student Flights has given us two $50 vouchers to put toward your next getaway, and we can’t wait to send not one, but two of you guys on an adventure! You’ve got to be in fast to win this comp, however, because we’re only giving the vouchers to the first two people who Facebook message us a selfie of them looking seriously pumped about the double giveaway. Like seriously pumped.
DOUBLE PASS We’ve got two double passes to Event Cinemas with your name on them this week! Two of you are going to be able to treat yourself and a friend to a movie this week (or go to two yourself, because…well, you know why)! Email lbarks@aut.ac.nz with your name, campus, what movie you want to see at the moment, and who you’re going to take with you if you win the tickets. First two people to email will be popcorning it up, big time.
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W H AT T H E F RAC K I S F RAC K I N G ? Emma Wingrove
The infamous practice of hydraulic fracturing, more commonly referred to as fracking, is the process of drilling into the ground and injecting water and random chemicals. The names of these chemicals do not have to be disclosed to the public, but they are injected at a high pressure to fracture shale rocks and release the natural gas inside. This is then used for electricity. What we do know about these undisclosed chemicals is that there can be up to 600 of them used, including lead, uranium, mercury, ethylene glycol, radium, hydrochloric acid, methanol and formaldehyde. Some of these chemicals are carcinogenic and others are just plain toxic. These chemicals can leak out during fracturing, causing contamination of the air, the land, and the ground water supply for miles around, potentially even contaminating local crops and water supply. We can take a small comfort in New Zealand, knowing that benzene, ethylbenzene and xylene are absent from the list. This water and chemical mixture known as fracking fluid, is injected just over 3000 metres into the ground, down a previously drilled pipeline, requiring between 11 million and 34 million litres of water, which I can’t even begin to picture. There are 500 000 active gas wells in the US alone, and each well can be fracked 18 times before it becomes depleted.
The pressure of this fluid hitting the bottom of the well causes the surrounding shale rocks to crack, allowing natural gas to flow into the well. While this is happening, methane and more chemicals can leach out and potentially contaminate ground water. But the contamination doesn’t stop there. In overseas reports, methane levels in drinking-water wells near these sites are 17 times higher than other drinking-water wells. At most, only half of the fracking fluid is retrieved, the rest is left in there to continuously leach out for as long as it can, and since it is not biodegradable, that will be quite a while. The stuff that does get retrieved is then left out in an exposed pit to evaporate, still containing up to 600 chemicals. Fracking first began in 1947, but has only been carried out in New Zealand for 23 years. In that time, it has been isolated to the Taranaki and Waikato regions. Petroleum Exploration and Production Association New Zealand (PEPA) claim that New Zealand practices have learned from things going wrong in the US, and there are no recorded cases of water contamination. However, in 2012 the Christchurch City Council, Selwyn District Council, the Kaikoura District Council, and community boards in Christchurch and in the Taranaki District, called for a ban on fracking due to the potential hazards. Two years after the call for a ban, most council plans still did not distinguish between drilling for water and drilling for oil and gas, and I am yet to see anything that confirms that has changed.
Fracking has often been blamed for increased seismic activity, including earthquakes in Liverpool, Blackpool, Oklahoma and Ohio. Even New Zealand’s own PEPA admit that fracking is likely to blame for the minor earthquakes in Blackpool. Earthquakes normally occur along fault lines, none of which are near these four places. In fact, the closest thing I could find to a Liverpool fault line was the one in Liverpool F.C’s play strategy that allowed Everton to overtake them in the 2004-5 championships. However, what PEPA refuses to allow fracking to take the blame for is “flammable water”. A high methane content within a water sample will make the water flammable, but PEPA claims that any methane in the Taranaki water wells is a natural occurrence, so fracking cannot be blamed. PEPA also state that there is about 150-250 millimetres of steel and cement between gas flow and drinking water, making contamination impossible.
So while the government are all for not just continued, but increased fracking, believing the financial benefits to be worth the low risk, the people of Taranaki feel differently. Climate Justice Taranaki tells stories of local residents and farmers who are sick of the chemical contamination, noise pollution, and above all, the damage to the intrinsic aesthetic value once held by Taranaki.
Overseas cases have proven that when best practice procedures are not followed, disaster can occur. However, a 2012 report released by the Parliamentary Commissioner for the Environment, Jan Wright, “found no evidence of major environmental problems as a result of onshore drilling in New Zealand, and concluded that the risks were low if best practice was used.” She also stated that the (then) current regulation of drilling was poorly regulated and needed to be improved if fracking was to continue or grow. That clearly implies that best practice was not being applied.
d r i n k i n g - wa t e r we l l s .
I n ove r s e a s re p o r t s , m e t h a n e l eve l s i n d r i n k i n g - wa t e r we l l s near these sites are 17 times higher than other
Despite over five decades of fracking, all of the websites I’ve come across admit that the long-term effects of fracking are still unknown. The large quantities of chemicals we cannot dispose of, and potential risks of contamination, earthquakes, loss of wildlife, loss of aesthetic and cultural value, will all be long-term consequences for a short term solution. We won’t be able to frack forever and we will eventually need a new and renewable energy source. 19
H I DE & SWE ET Amelia Petrovich | Illustration by Logan Gubb You’re doing that wrong. I don’t know what you’re doing or how you’re doing it, but odds are it’s wrong. There are a lot of things you can be busy doing in this world, and where there are things there are also wrong ways to do them. What I mean is, there’s a crap-load of potential for wrong. Right now, in the 21st century, we’re practically immersed in the age of wrong, new discoveries announced just about every week informing us all how incorrect we’ve been for so long. You thought Pluto was a planet? Wrong. Figured your favourite Game of Thrones character was safe? Wrong. Apparently the newest thing we’ve all been wrong about is the “healthy” food we’re buying. I saw a cracker of a documentary on 60 Minutes the other night featuring Damon Gameau, host and star of That Sugar Film, informing viewers that they’ve all become victims of “hidden sugar”. “Hidden sugar” chills out in a lot of manufactured food products marketed as vaguely “healthy” or “wholesome”: cereals, muesli bars, fruit juices and even baked beans containing teaspoons-worth of the stuff. We like this sugar, it makes food taste good and we choose to buy it because it’s tasty, but apparently we are being hoodwinked because the sugar we’re consuming is entirely invisible. This sounds downright disgusting doesn’t it? Hidden sugar! In our food! It’s deceptive, it’s unhealthy, it’s manipulative and it’s… listed quite clearly in the nutritional information portion of just about any commercial food packaging. Sure, if Yoplait’s new strawberries and cream dessert-yoghurt creation is pitched to me as “healthy” I’d probably assume that its added sugar content is low-ish, but a glance at the nutritional info could prove otherwise. One glimpse of that whopping 20g per serve is pretty friggin’ telling, no matter how “natural” and “clean”
the packaging promised me it would be. I don’t understand how added sugar, when listed on the food itself as a key ingredient, can be defined as “hidden”. Perhaps if you couldn’t read, or maybe if you had some bizarre condition that prevented you from rotating packets in search of ingredients lists, maybe then this mysterious sugar would be truly “hidden”. But you know, as the population stands right now I really don’t see these as terrible hindrances for the majority. The word “hidden” implies invisibility and, while it’s possibly not made obvious for consumers, sugar isn’t exactly lied about by advertising/marketing either. If you’re the dude who gets to decide what stuff goes on a can of baked beans (definitely a job that exists by the way, I’m not sure what degree would get you there but I’m certain there’s one guy somewhere in New Zealand who is god of baked bean cans) you’re hardly going to get all “THIS CONTAINS LIKE THREE TEASPOONS OF SUGAR” on everyone’s asses. However, you might decide something like “a source of protein”, “a Kiwi favourite” or “no artificial sweetener” could do the trick. Granted, this isn’t totally transparent, but with sugar content clearly listed practically everywhere it shouldn’t have to be. If I’ve got a sugar craving I’ll grab a bottle of juice. It’ll be labeled “Just Juice Splash” or “Charlie’s Old Fashioned Quencher” rather than “Crazy Liquid Sugar Fix”, but I know what’s up. You can’t tell me that people honestly chow down on the sweet, nutty goodness that is a ‘Nice & Natural Nut Bar’ and are then shocked to find out there’s sugar present. Nutritional information on packaging means there is literally no reason to be left in the dark as to what you’re eating, that’s kind of the whole point. So if “hidden” sugar isn’t really hidden, then maybe we’re not actually doing anything wrong. Maybe the not-hidden “hidden” sugar is what we’re all after anyway because it’s just so unashamedly there… or maybe denial is the sweetest thing. Perhaps it’s in our best interests to perpetuate this whole thing. I mean, if the sugar is hidden, bad habits and sheer laziness isn’t our fault right?
ADVENTURE I N T E R N A L LY Julie Cleaver
Living in a city can often make people unhappy. They drive to work on frustratingly busy roads just to arrive at a stressful job which they should be enjoying, since they worked so hard to get it. They then return home to their 1.3 children and unhappy spouse, and repeat the same process for the rest of their lives. Some people manage to cope with their mundane urban lives through alcohol, television and mindless purchases, however a large number of folks struggle to be content. After forking out for that faster car and then realising it actually didn’t speed up their journey to work, life can become a bit meaningless. “What am I doing all this for?” they may ask themselves. “How did I become a rat, racing towards a finish line that doesn’t exist?” When people finally cannot find an answer to such questions, they may have an existential crisis. “I don’t even know who I am anymore,” they muse; depressed, out of touch with nature and out of touch with who they are. And so, with a copy of Eat, Pray, Love firmly clutched in their fingers, they decide it is time to find themselves once again. They long to grow, experience new things and learn to devour life like a juicy eye fillet steak, and to do this, they must travel to a third world country. When they’re in Bali, staying at their two-week meditation retreat, they may experience some beautiful things. They’ll get to see a new culture, feel the sun and the salt kiss their skin and meet some cool bearded travellers with interesting stories. They may even go back to their old lives feeling revitalized. However, after a few days working the grind, their trip will quickly fade to black. The traffic and smog of the city will pollute their memories, and the only thing they will have left is enough #throwback photos to last them a year. Now I’m not criticizing travel. It is always inspiring to see new places, even if it is just for a few weeks. Being in a foreign place can help you see your regular life with more objective eyes, enabling you to spot all your old bad habits. It may also give you a newfound confidence, as now you are super worldly. But you don’t need to be in a sunny place with no responsibilities to grow internally; you can do it right where you are, right now. Think about it, if you chose to dedicate the next two weeks to reading self-help books, writing out your frustrations and thinking about your goals for the future, I’m pretty sure you would gain more clarity on your internal cosmos. City-dwellers can get tricked into thinking that they need to be overseas to find themselves, but that’s not true. You can grow at anytime and in any place, you just need to be willing to. 21
Re i ki Naomi Currie
Reiki (pronounced ray-key) is a form of energy healing that originated in Japan, and is commonly translated to ‘Universal Life Energy’. To put it simply, Reiki is spiritual healing. Reiki practitioners channel chi, the natural or spiritual energy of the universe, to promote positive energy throughout the body, and maintain a person’s chakra balance. For those of you who don’t know what chakra are, I suggest you watch Naruto.
Okay, I won’t leave you to dry. Chakra are the energy centres of your body. Your seven chakra points flow down the same way as your spine, from the top of the head to the tail bone.
Like any doctors, performing spiritual manipulation requires training. Practitioners must understand the chakra points and the flow of energy, as they use their connection to healing energy to strengthen their own, or another person’s energy flow. Reiki has been described as passive therapy because of the gentle acts of the practitioner, whether they lightly touch the areas of your chakra points, or hover their hands over your body.
During my Reiki session, the practitioner’s hands were placed on my body, they were warm, the massage table I was laying on was comfy, and it was a relaxing experience overall. When the practitioner held their hands on my stomach, they moved with my breathing so no pressure was applied, and even when their hands moved to another part of my body, it felt like they were still on my stomach. The warmth that was left behind was an illusion of the practitioner’s hands remaining unmoved. My physical senses were numb, but at the same time I was very aware - I’m pretty sure I’d reached a state of meditation.
Reiki practitioners are like the wires that connect you to the power grid, allowing your energy to flow and equalise with all the other electrons buzzing around. They provide the connection, and what you take from Reiki is up to you, but is typically based on your energy needs for balance. Like pastors are the connection between the community and God, Reiki practitioners are the connection to chi. This is not to say only certain people can perform these roles, just that it requires spiritual practise and understanding. Despite the nature of Reiki, it’s not affiliated with any particular religion, though in many ways it parallels the doctrine of Vitalism.
As I pointed out earlier, Reiki is like an energy massage. The original purpose of Reiki was developed as a form of self-care but has expanded into medical settings. It’s now common to provide Reiki for patients in hospitals, as doctors found patients ask for less pain medication when they’ve had a Reiki session. Reiki has been said to reduce pain, fatigue, anxiety, help injuries recover, and simply relax.
Reiki has physical and mental benefits, although there’s no research to support this with great credibility, so Reiki may just be the practise of the power of suggestion. Some believe Reiki may have a placebo effect, and no real standing as a medical therapy. With Reiki, it’s like your mind overcomes itself and any strains the body has endured. This is similar to telling yourself you’ve had a very good sleep and your body responds by not feeling tired. Trust me, this one works. The classical conditioning and perception you have drives your mind and overcomes the negative effects your body is experiencing.
All I know is, I sat up at the end of my session and felt relaxed. I came out of Reiki feeling happy; the list of things I had to complete no longer made me anxious, and I felt aware but blissfully at peace. Perhaps I felt good because I wanted to after feeling like shit for weeks. I suggest you give Reiki a go. If you can’t afford it because you’re a poor student, meditation is the next best thing. Meditate in a shower of fairy dust and don’t forget to think happy thoughts.
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DIVERSITY
WEEK Since we are celebrating diversity this week, I caught up with a number of students around campus to talk about how AUT celebrates diversity. Diversity surrounds us every day, check out what these students think of it. Alice Cooper
Alejandra
Tariro
My name is Alejandra Alvarez, I am 28, and I am doing a Bachelor of Business and Bachelor of Law double degree. Studying at AUT, I can confirm diversity enhances creativity, and being exposed to it can change the way we think, leading to better decision making and problem solving.
My name is Tariro, and I am studying Food Science at AUT.
What does diversity mean to you? Diversity to me means understanding that each individual is unique, and recognising our individual differences. It's all about acceptance and respect.
What has AUT taught you about diversity? At AUT, there are many different cultures, people from different backgrounds. You get to know more about them. You get less ignorant about other people’s cultures.
How does AUT support your diversity? By building a safe and unique environment that also allows us to celebrate our multicultural communities. How does AUT celebrate diversity? By helping us feel we belong, embrace our uniqueness, and realise our full potential.
What does diversity mean to you? I get to know more about other cultures than I did before.
How does AUT celebrate your diversity? Every culture is recognized, for example, I am part of the African group and we get the chance to celebrate this year.
I’m Morgan Davis, I’m 19 years old, and I am studying a Bachelor of Business. What does diversity mean to you? Differences between people based on race, culture, and religion.
Morgan
How does AUT celebrate your diversity? There have been many opportunities to celebrate diversity at AUT, lots of ways to be educated and aware of diversity as well. AUT has many students from diverse backgrounds.
Daniel
Shannon
My name is Daniel, I am 19 years old, and am studying a Diploma of Culinary Arts.
My name is Shannon, 18 years old, and I am studying a Bachelors of International hospitality Management
What does diversity mean to you? It’s like various ingredients producing the perfect dish! But in other words, accepting others regardless of race, ethnicity, and sexuality.
What does diversity mean to you? It means acceptance and respect. When you meet new people, in different situations, it changes our preconceived notions of thinking. We develop different ways of interacting with people, and become diverse.
How does AUT celebrate your diversity? AUT celebrates diversity in many sorts of ways! One of them is Polyfest! Where this year, AUT sponsored the Cook Islands Stage and I was very fortunate to attend Polyfest and represent the university at the AUT stall.
How does AUT celebrate your diversity? It’s everywhere at AUT, there are many different groups and people do feel included.
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I S U RV I V E D L I V I N G I N A KO R E A N C U LT
Julie Cleaver After graduating high school, the last place I expected to be was stuck in the snowy mountain ranges of Cheongpyeong, South Korea; surrounded by thousands of cult members. I was stranded there for three weeks, where I was given rice, rituals and zero human rights. I guess the biggest question you’re probably asking is how I got there. It’s a really long story, but I’ll try my best to sum it up.
"Unfortunately some people took the practice to the extreme a n d I s aw m o t h e r s b e at i n g the ‘evil spirits’ out of their children until they bled." When my parents were young adults, they were ultimate hobos. Dad stowed away on a ship and ended up in Sydney, where he slept in a playground and ate out of bins. My mum was biking around her homeland Canada, eating vegan food and getting her long flowery skirts caught in the bike chain. Both my parents were young, idealistic and hungry: for both food and spiritual nourishment. So when strangers came up to them on the street offering them both, they eagerly listened. These strangers happened to be members of the Unification Church, a Korean religion founded by Reverend Sun Myung Moon in 1954. The religious philosophy of the church is based around world unification and peace, two ideas that resonated with my parents’ core beliefs. Twenty years of service and one arranged marriage later, I was born. My three siblings and I were raised in the Unification Church. This meant that when the other kids were watching cartoons on a Saturday morning, we were bowing at picture frames and reciting pledges in Korean. It was an intense upbringing, with my parents placing the pressures of world peace on my unwilling shoulders. But it also had its perks, like the hundred other kids in New Zealand who were bought up the same way. We have all been through so many weird experiences together, making us inseparably connected, and I am so grateful to have these people in my life. As I entered my teenage years, I started to question a lot of things about my identity and relationship with the church. Eventually I made the difficult decision of creating distance between myself and the church. My siblings also made the same choice years earlier. My parents were disappointed, to say the least. So in a final attempt to convince at least one of their children to be part of their beloved movement, my Dad offered to send me to the church’s headquarters in Korea. That summer I wanted to go to Southeast Asia, so getting a direct flight to Korea would make it much cheaper for me. Also, I’ve never been one to say no to a new adventure.
So I went, and even though it was a little psychologically damaging, I’m glad I did it. The religious center in Cheongpyeong (pronounced like Chump-yong), located an hour north of Seoul, was the most intense place I have ever been. People often go there in search of spiritual enlightenment, or as a last resort to cure their physical or mental illnesses. I met people with cancer, depression and mental handicaps: all desperately praying for salvation. I also met young people from around the globe who grew up in the same church as I did. Like me, they somehow found themselves stumbling into the snowy gates of Cheongpyeong, confused and completely clueless about what was about to go down. Cheongpyeong was completely different to my experience of the church in New Zealand. Maybe we had just been getting a watered down version of it, because in Korea the strict and strange practices were far more extreme than anything I had ever done. One example of this was the practice of Ansu. Ansu is a ritual where thousands of people line up in rows and hit themselves repeatedly, in an attempt to rid bad spirits from their bodies. The entire practice takes a total of two hours, and one four verse Korean song is sung for the whole time, making it the most repetitive and violent concert out (after Marilyn Manson ones). White shirts were mandatory, as they attract good spirits, and everyone who stays in Cheongpyeong is made to perform Ansu twice a day without exception. I hated this practice for fairly obvious reasons. I found it mind numbingly boring and completely pointless. But that’s not the worst part about it. Unfortunately some people took the practice to the extreme and I saw mothers beating the ‘evil spirits’ out of their children until they bled. It was heartbreaking to see cheeky little Korean kids I had made friends with being abused, and that everyone around me was okay with it. I cried and begged her to stop, but I was helpless to the collective approval of the masses. 27
Scarily, there were hidden cameras all over Cheongpyeong, full on Big Brother style. So if you wanted to sit out of a session of Ansu, the Korean Mafia, as I called them, would find you and force you to attend, sometimes with physical force. The ever-looking eyes of the Korean Mafia along with the mass pressure from everyone around me meant that I had to follow the schedule completely. This wasn’t easy, as every day consisted of waking up at 5am, praying for an hour, eating a quick bowl of rice for breakfast, performing Ansu for two hours, walking up a spiritual mountain to pray, eating more rice, Ansu again, a couple hours of lectures, rice for dinner, group prayer in a hall, and than finally at 10pm, sleep. There were sometimes a few exceptions to the schedule, where we were given an hour or two of free time, but most days were a grueling seventeen-hours filled with rice, Ansu, prayer and little sleep. On a positive note, there were interesting and fun aspects of that place, like how communal everything was. The thousand of us ate together, prayed together, slept next to each other, and even showered together, butt naked in traditional Korean bathhouses. Bathhouses are like large bathrooms filled with hundreds of shower faucets and multiple hot spas, and everyone unashamedly cleans and soaks their bodies together, in all their uncovered glory. Before you get too excited, men and women wash separately; remember this was a religious camp, not the Burning Man festival.
"Bathhouses are like large bathrooms filled with hun dreds of shower faucets and multiple hot spas, a n d e ve r yo n e u n a s h a m e d ly cleans and soaks their bodies together, in all their u n c o v e r e d g l o r y. " Besides the awesome communal bathing situation, the living conditions were pretty horrific. We all slept on the floors of different lecture halls, side by side. You could say a lot of unintended spooning went down, but absolutely no forking. Normally I wouldn’t mind such a close living style, because I’m all for community spirit, but because of the mid-winter frost, unhygienic living conditions and lack of sleep, illness spread in those halls like warm butter on toast. I was spluttering and wheezing for the whole time I was there and even though I needed rest and chicken soup, since I was forced to stick to the strict schedule, my health became much, much worse. But I was one of the lucky ones, as others were far more unwell than me. One of my friends got so sick that I had to help carry her up to the church hospital. It was a chilling moment, but since she was given a bed and a break from the killer routine, I almost envied her.
After a few days in my newfound winter not-so-wonderland, of course I wanted out. However, due to my little knowledge of the Korean language and the remote location of the center, my chances of escaping were slim. Miraculously I managed to call my brother from a pay phone. He answered and I immediately burst into tears and pleaded for him to come rescue me. But there was nothing he could do other than comfort me from thousands of miles away. I was stranded. My only option was to go along with the schedule, play it cool, and hope that I would be able to make it to the other side unscathed: but for some reason, my plan didn’t work. During my stay I witnessed a lot of people go mad. On the first day when I met the other English-speaking people, most of them seemed pretty normal. Yet as time went on, the place got to them. One guy started claiming that he was the second Jesus, others felt insanely guilty for their previous life choices and repented in tears for drinking alcohol, and sadly for me, an Australian family started to believe that I was the root of all their problems. The daughter, who particularly thought I was the devil, screamed at me in the dining hall in front of everyone, swearing more than Chopper Reid himself. I had no idea what was going on and just stood there, completely stunned. Later that night her brother found me walking back from the prayer hall and yelled at me, inches away from my face, so close I could feel his cold spit hit my cheeks. I stood in the snow, crying. My sensitive soul was completely crushed by those strangers; unleashing a whole realm of sadness I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling.
Three weeks later, I had completed my time. When walking out of those grounds I felt like I had just escaped Shawshank: I was finally free. Afterwards I travelled around Korea for a week, which was super fun (minus my sickness) then caught a plane straight to Vietnam. During my stay in Southeast Asia, I was pretty wrecked, both physically and mentally. After going through so much, I had barely any energy left to give. This was particularly problematic, as I had signed up to volunteer in an orphanage for three weeks in Cambodia. I tried my best to make the most out of it, then caught a plane straight back home into my mothers arms. I am happy to say that over time I have moved on from that experience. I have forgiven the Korean Mafia, my parents and even those people who yelled at me. I now look back on that memory with reflection and insight, into both the human psyche and my own coping abilities. Plus, seeing the roots of the church in its purest form, which was close minded, ritualistic and pretty fucked up in my opinion, gave me the certainty I needed to leave it for good and pave my own path. That’s a huge deal, as before I was plagued with guilt and more confused about my life than a giraffe in Antarctica. When writing this story, I refrained from tinting it with a light or dark shade. Instead I wrote what actually happened to me, as I feel the world needs to know what really goes down in cult centers like that one. Behind those gates, it’s not pretty. But luckily after all that, my sense of adventure is still alive. I wouldn’t say no to a new experience, even if it had the word cult in its title. 29
BAC K PA C K PA P E R BAC K S by Matthew Cattin Novels are certainly the oldest and best of traveling companions, after ponies and hobbits of course. Where a film will always appear the same, wherever it may be viewed, a good book can be shifted and shaped by the passing landscapes. Your imagination, with its fresh coat of vibrant paint, can be twisted, carved, and honed like the valleys and mountains you venture across. Your mind paints new details depending on your surroundings, your experiences, and your moods. Maybe I’m romanticising the experiences of travelling with a paperback in your pack, but for me, the treasure of tucking into a chapter in a tramping hut or around a fire with a bottle of honey whiskey is indeed a special one. In my recent travels, I’ve discovered there to be a few books that pop up on hostel shelves and grubby dorm pillows more than most, and with good reason. They inspire weary feet and keep tired travellers away from much needed sleep just that little bit longer each night. Here are a few favourites.
Maybe I’m romanticising the experiences of travelling with a paperback in your pack, but for me, the treasure of tucking into a chapter in a tramping hut or around a fire with a bottle of honey whiskey is indeed a special one.
THE HOBBIT & LORD OF THE RINGS – JRR Tolkien What could inspire wanderlust more than the works of Tolkien? His tales really do encompass everything beautiful and thrilling about life on the road. The wee hobbits, leaving the comfort and familiarity of the Shire with nought but their rucksacks and cloaks, sleeping on tree roots under the stars, visiting the elves and dreaming of their soft Hobbiton beds. What I particularly love about Tolkien’s words is his emphasis on appreciating the simple home pleasures of life. The Shire is described as a utopia, full of creature comforts, warmth and merriment, and the hobbits’ quest essentially serves to ensure its future. Tolkien reminds us that as far as we wander down the path, a warm fire and a hobbit hole will always be there for us to return to, and that’s not a bad thing at all. “Not all those who wander are lost.” “It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.”
ON THE ROAD - Jack Kerouac A powerful weapon of nostalgia and inspiration, On the Road is a defining work of travel writing. Recalling the years of Kerouac’s hitchhiking and road tripping
across America in the late forties, the novel is a rambling, fluid work, which moves like a fresh river making its way to the sea. A story about “the mad ones” who can’t sit still, Kerouac has a way of writing that stirs something within and calls you to drop everything you have in exchange for life on the road. “I was surprised, as always, be how easy the act of leaving was, and how good it felt. The world was suddenly rich with possibility.” “Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.”
INTO THE WILD – Jon Krakauer A non-fiction read that details the mad tragedy of the wild Christopher McCandless, Krakauer’s book is pretty much the backbones of the film, only packed with more details, speculation and feedback from those that knew McCandless. Despite the ignorant, stubborn nature or McCandless, you can’t deny the beautiful sentiments in some of his letters and notes. The guy was a bit of a nut, but he sure knew how to make each day count. The non-fiction format mightn’t inspire you quite so much as the vivid and exciting film, but it will definitely provide you food for thought about the crazy society we live in. “Don't settle down and sit in one place. Move around, be nomadic, make each day a new horizon.”
“The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.”
SHANTARAM – Gregory David Roberts This mostly true story of a convict who escapes an Australian prison and lives in the slums of India, this rugged adventure I would recommended for those travelling to third world parts of the globe. Eye-opening, often stomachturning, yet beautifully descriptive of human nature, Shantaram does a bloody good job of putting me off travelling to India as much as it makes me desperate to visit. Tinged with tragedy, violence and love, it’s almost Shakespearean in its drama, and you can’t help but fall a little bit in love with the wise fugitive who lived each day as though he could be recaptured at any moment. “Fate gives all of us three teachers, three friends, three enemies, and three great loves in our lives. But these twelve are always disguised, and we can never know which one is which until we’ve loved them, left them, or fought them.” “Luck is what happens to you when fate gets tired of waiting.”
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WHY WINTER IS COLDER NOW
FOMOOTS Shawn Cleaver | Illustration by Logan Gubb
I can literally see my breath in my room, as I huddle under three blankets and a sleeping bag. Like so many (now probably dead) Game of Thrones characters have said before me: “Winter is arriving quickly.”
Recently I’ve felt the cold of the chilly season way more than usual. Is it because I am way busier than I used to be? Studying and working has made me appreciate my free time a lot more, so maybe I take more notice if the weather’s crap? Could it be that I probably wouldn’t have had any friends if I didn’t have a tan in summer, so I spent every possible moment in the cancerous rays and have become attached to them in some weird Stockholm Syndrome kind of way? Or could it be global warming is really just a conspiracy like the moon landing and Nicolas Cage’s career, and the world is actually getting colder and somehow it’s George Bush’s fault? Those reasons may add to it, but I’ve found the root to this new found freeze: fomoots. Fear of missing out on the sun.
Social media has turned life into a global pissing contest. All summer we selfie, we tag and we remind everyone: “Hey look I’m at a picturesque place too! I have friends! Accept me!” While everyone else comments about how jelly they are. Combine that with how humans are selfish creatures. Every time we see a post about a beautiful beach, or attractive human we instantly make it about ourselves. “Why aren’t I there?” “Why don’t I look like that?” Plus the social media we consume is designed to only show the highlights of everything. So no, your wild Harry Potter movie marathon night isn’t gonna get the airtime you wanted. (Plus you barely made it past the third movie, Hermione wasn’t even hot yet!) The problem now is that it’s the Northern Hemisphere’s turn to enjoy summer and ramp up the jelly. As we freeze, photos and videos of beautiful people at the most stunning places on earth enjoying beautiful weather flood in. As they drunkenly dance to the earth’s best music, they all seemingly slur: “I bet you wish you were here!” While we cling to blankets for as long as we can, to then drive to and from uni in darkness, ironically listening to This Summer ‘s Gonna Hurt by Maroon 5 on the radio. Plus everything is bigger overseas, so when they have summer concerts, they have Coachella. Glastonbury. Followed by the world’s best this and the world’s biggest that. Unfortunately some skank you met at a party last year got money from daddy to head over, so you get iPhone quality coverage all winter long. It’s like a lap-dance. You get a taste, but leave frustrated and somehow end up at Burger King. Regrettably, we’ve become so used to it, and it’s so normal to feel envious we barely realise it’s happening. If I had never consumed social media and then instantly began to at the rate in which I do now, I’d lose faith in humanity quicker than my mum if she somehow got a video of me in town We are not used to this. We are the generation who grew up without internet, and have now woken up in a world reliant on it. The best way through the cold is to accept. Accept that we have limited time and resources to do these amazing things and cannot magically win lotto and teleport to Tomorrowland. Accept that if our planet didn’t have routine and everybody just yolo’ed it all the time, society would eventually collapse. Accept that winter has its good points, like being able to wear beanies and not feeling guilty watching TV all day because it’s too cold to do anything else. Or to put on a bit of chub because no one will see it. Accept that just because America looks like they have awesome pool parties right now, remember that they have to pay may more for healthcare, have way more racist police and they don’t have jelly tip chocolate. Right now a hot water bottle, cup of Milo and the rest of Harry Potter three is all I need.
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SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST Naomi Currie
We go about our lives taking numerous things for granted. We expect others to do their part, while we fluctuate between what’s expected and what we want. It’s engrained in our brain that we are superior, intelligent and independent beings of the world, but at the same time we rely on each other to do our part. We are dependent on the process of production, no matter the form. People have created a system, and we are following it like it is right. It can’t possibly be incorrect when great minds have come together. Or perhaps these minds aren’t all that they seem. When laws are created we tend to think, ‘yes, that’s good for me.’ The laws may prevent others from committing acts deemed as criminal or violations, but don’t expect someone to stop mid-act because you say, “Stop! Murderer, no killing, Murderer, no killing!” It’s abundantly clear we are not Dora the persuasive vigilante. Even with these preventions and guides saying what we should and shouldn’t do in a dire situation, many people are unprepared for the dangers of the world. We sit at home with the misguided knowledge that we live in a safe neighbourhood, or we think we’ve never been violated living in an unsafe neighbourhood because we’re part of the hood. Rather than thinking about how safe we are and what we could do to prevent shit from happening, we need to prepare. We need to learn how to survive when laws can’t protect us and words have no effect. Sometimes we need to know things that the education system doesn’t teach. They want us dependent on things they want control of, and they want us dependent on the system. But we should take control of what we are dependent on. It’s time you thought about going to ninja school. Learn how to traverse the world with ease, know which weapon is best, and know how to blend in.
How to Survive 101: First off: athletics and acrobatics. Learn how to run, move with ease, and know how to escape efficiently. We’ve always been taught how to avoid confrontation because of social expectations, and told to run when facing danger. My suggestion: enhance this skill. If you run like a two-legged dog, you can be sure you’re going to be the first person to die when a disaster hits. Second: weapons mastery. Know what martial arts, and what weapon is best used, although, it is ultimately the players’ choice and style that dictates the selection. Basically arm yourself in the most optimum way; be able to adapt to any situation. And third: blend in. Know how to imitate others and blend into any crowd. Remember, be a chameleon and praise the Faceless God. By now you’re probably thinking this is total bullshit, but you’ll thank me when the Zombie Apocalypse shuffles round the bend, reaching for you. Learning how to survive is important because modern comforts and defences will wash away with your blood if you don’t prepare. Pre-adaptation is key. I don’t claim to know everything, but I’m preparing myself for the Zombie Apocalypse. When it comes, the assholes of the world will thrive, good people will become assholes, and those unprepared will die. When the world turns to shit, I already know how I’m going to protect my stronghold, how to plant traps, and I’ve weaponised myself with karate, accompanied with a bow in my room. We all know killing zombies silently is the way to go. Those whom are not prepared should start accumulating items of use, because when those air drops start coming, you’re not the only one going for them. Sometimes I look at people with pity. When I see others go about their daily business, I internally analyse whether they’d be one of the first people to die in a crisis, or be one of the better individuals to keep around like a warrior buddy. This piece isn’t to argue that many of you will die if the shit hits the fan and you’re forced to run around covered in shit until you can purify yourself with warrior essence. Its simple purpose is to ask you: are you prepared? We live in a dangerous world that cannot be cleansed with words. Actions will get you results. The political issues we endure and even brush aside as irrelevant are spreading infections. It’s growing. The world is getting more complicated despite the feeling of progression. You need to ask yourself, are you a runner or a warrior? Good night, and good luck. Redwood out.
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AUT InterNZ OF
NEW YO “I like coming here [to Elizabeth Street Garden in SoHo] to clear my head and get some fresh air. It semi feels like I’ve escaped the city. At the end of 2014 I had just turned 21, graduated with a bachelor of business with a double major in marketing and design. I was still living under my parents’ roof and had no idea this opportunity was actually going to eventuate into a real life situation. A huge transition had to be made. The toughest part was setting up a new life in a giant city...basically alone. But I did it! I made new friends who helped me along the way."
KIMBERLY MAR
GREER RASMUSSEN
“I'm currently working as an HR Generalist at Zolfo Cooper. New York is full of the best and brightest young people who are away from their home and families. This means you’re constantly meeting amazing interesting people without trying. I’ve learnt that it IS possible to become organised, and how quickly things can change when you ask for help. Also, the importance of having an elevator pitch and the ability to fake it till you make it. My favourite thing about New York though, is how easy it is to get around. There are so many transport choices. Being here you see how a lack of transport choices is really suffocating Auckland's potential and it emphasises the importance of projects like the City Rail Link and the Skypath.”
“I’m still trying to work out what I’m doing in New York! But mostly developing my skills as a designer at Red Antler, and eating amazing food. New York is a city of extremes: the cost, the weather, the noise, the number of people - navigating all of this has been the biggest thing to learn. The speed and efficiency of how you work through projects is also on a different level here. It’s all about doing great work at great speed. The most fun thing? Seeing the city from a helicopter on my birthday. It’s an incredible perspective from up in the sky.”
NICK HAYES
ORK FELICIA IRENE I definitely don’t have time to procrastinate here! Working and being a student are two completely different worlds, no matter where in the world you are. If I look back now, I feel like when I was a student I had so much free time on my hands and I felt safe under the idea of education. Working, it’s the real deal. Every day I have to give it my best shot, there’s no time for “I will do it tomorrow. . .” because by then, it will already be too late and perhaps another new project will come in. Another thing is, New Yorkers can be opinionated sometimes – so you got to speak up and fight for what you believe in. The most fun thing about being here is being a tourist in my own city. There are so many things to do here and I feel that I have not discovered all New York just yet. I’m fascinated with the old buildings in SoHo. Each building has character and a unique design of its own and there are hidden little streets that branch off Broadway accommodating some very unique shops, restaurants and bars.
Applications for 2016 scholarships are open now for AUT students completing their degree this year. Apply at internz. aut.ac.nz by 31 August. Photos by Felicia Irene, a graduate from AUT’s School of Art + Design. She was one of 10 recipients of 2015 AUT interNZ international scholarships to experience working in a major US city through an AUT interNZ scholarship.
Experience work life in the USA through a once-in-a-life-time scholarship to intern at: -
Saatchi & Saatchi, New York Paramount Recording Studios, Los Angeles The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York FCB West, San Francisco The Broadmoor, Colorado Springs The American Museum of Natural History, New York Red Antler, New York PUBLIC Restaurant, New York Westpac Americas, New York AvroKO Hospitality Group, New York Booktrack, San Francisco Play Rugby USA, New York Zolfo Cooper, New York Stanford University Residential Dining Enterprises, San Francisco - rogenSI, San Francisco To be eligible you must: - Have (or be able to get) a NZ passport - Be completing, or have completed, your degree in 2015 n: sioroles Seofsthe - Meet the requirements ofon one specified i t a m G126 r o W f , t n I s t u by u our 2016 US hosts n g St de y 13 AuDecember 2015 sdabetween r u - Be available to depart h T , 5am2016 11.1June and - Meet all United States visa eligibility criteria and requirements
18 scholarships available Applications close 31 August
Apply now INTERNZ.AUT.AC.NZ Experience the changing world 37
With purposefully flakey paint, retro surfboards proudly displayed on the walls and old milk bottles for drinking water, The Shack definitely creates a cute beach-bum vibe. It also has a warm yellow lighting, making it feel homely and welcoming. Due to the chilled out nature of the place, I had no idea what the food would be like. I was expecting a glorified fish and chips, but my meal was more exquisite than white gloves and that fancy cheese that you can never afford. I ordered an eye-fillet steak, accompanied with juicy mushrooms and a mouth-watering butter sauce. It was most probably the tastiest thing to have ever touched my lips. My partner ordered a succulent roast lamb dish with potatoes and crispy leak. It was tantalizingly good, with the best-textured meat he had ever tried (apparently).
THE SHACK 19 Bow St, Raglan
Reviewed by Julie Cleaver Like most places in Raglan, The Shack is decorated in a shabby, surf theme; however, the food is far from rustic.
Surprisingly, the meals were all around the twenty dollar mark, making them unbelievably cheap for fine dining quality of the food. The Shack was bustling with people, and after experiencing the delicious cuisine, I now know why. If you ever find yourself in Raglan and meet a hot surfer, take them to The Shack and I can almost guarantee that you two will be shacking up that night.
and has created a fantasy about the young couple living in a house the train stops beside most mornings. Still bitter about being cheated on by her ex-husband, Rachel is a difficult character to relate to in the early chapters because of how unstable and psychotic she is. Things truly kick off though when Rachel learns one half of her fantasy couple has disappeared, and she believes she holds a vital clue to the case. It’s at this point writer, Paula Hawkins, is truly able to flesh her characters out: giving Rachel a goal makes the readers want to stay on track as well, and we get further drawn into this world.
THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN Novel by Paula Hawkins
Reviewed by Ethan Sills Bestsellers can be divisive books. They either sell really well because they are brilliant, or simply become popular for a reason independent of quality. I feared Girl on the Train would fall into the latter category, yet still cautiously read it out of curiosity. Thankfully, I was blown away by the thriller. The story starts off slowly and in a jumble. Rachel, a struggling alcoholic, catches the train every day to work,
The prose and style can be fairly repetitive throughout the novel; especially given we are inside the minds of three different women (Rachel, her enemy Anna and the vanished Megan). Yet the fast paced plot helps overcome those flaws, and the character development grows with each chapter, so the book becomes a pleasure to read. It’s quite a calm thriller for most of the 300 pages, but like a train, it gathers momentum and truly gains speed in the last 50 pages to deliver on all that is promised. It’s not the most amazing novel ever, but the big twist is a well built up surprise, and it has more development and growth than most hot-selling thrillers out there. I’d recommend going on a Wednesday, as they have a special deal on the ribs. Or on a Friday or Saturday night, as the Mariachi band will serenade you. HOLA!
REVIEWS While I can’t say the soul/gospel music genre is my 24/7 go-to listening choice, I can declare that I’ve yet to have a sour experience with it. For me, it’s like that friend that you’re not super close with, don’t see very often, but whenever you do get a chance to hang, you’re genuinely confused as to why you don’t spend more time together. Leon Bridges’ Coming Home and I hung out this morning, and I left with a heart full of the emotional equivalent of jerk chicken and gumbo. Not exclusively positive feels, but beautiful feels nonetheless – feels that fatten the soul.
COMING HOME Leon Bridges Album Reviewed by Laurien Barks
It’s one of those albums that I struggle to find a standout track in; the flow and traditionally consistent rhythms melt into each other in the way every good soul album should. And with a mere 34 minute running time, it’d be a shame to dissect it into pieces when it makes for such a satisfying whole. Though I must admit that Coming Home makes for the perfect opening song; the best kindling for the inevitable ‘warm and fuzzy’ fire, and River settles the flames into glowing coals with finesse. The perfect album for a winter night slow dance, dinner accompaniment, chipping away pessimism, and afternoon drives through the countryside. This gal’s official new go-to when her soul could do with a little more meat on its bones.
being too schmaltzy, and introduced a number of story lines without really forcing them upon the viewers. Most pilot episodes usually cram too much in and handle it badly: Jane does so with fine care, cramming cancer recovery, lesbian break ups, Mexican telenova stars and a proposal all into forty minutes. It never stops but you don’t want it too, and it has me interested enough to watch further episodes.
JANE THE VIRGIN - EPISODE 1 Created by Jennie Snyder Urman Starring Gina Rodriguez, Andrea Navedo, Yael Grobglas Reviewed by Ethan Sills
This show has one of the most ridiculous premises ever in the history of television. Every time I have tried to explain the plot to someone, how the titular Jane is accidentally artificially inseminated, everyone has reacted with raised eyebrows, laughter and questions as to what I do in my spare time.
Lead actress, Gina Rodriguez, has earned a lot of praise for her starring role as Jane, an innocent Catholic girl who is impregnated when her upset gynecologist accidentally inseminates her. In the first episode alone we see a number of different sides to Jane, whose life is understandably thrown into turmoil by the change in circumstances, and Rodriguez really sells her character. If you can get past the silly premise and title, Jane the Virgin has a lot of promise. Some plot lines probably could be dropped, but there is a ton of humour, a lot of melodrama, and heaps of potential to grow. It has been received overwhelmingly positively in the States, with Rodriguez winning a Golden Globe earlier in the year. With all this hype and promise, I definitely will be sticking around.
Yes, it is silly and soapy, and the show really stretches to make the insemination work. However, I was very surprised by the first episode. It was touching and heartfelt without 39
Tu n a - s t u f f e d E g g p l a n t s W i t h Pa s t a S a u c e I’m about to share with you my favourite food in the entire world. It’s a confusing dish and I have no idea what exactly makes it so good but I bloody love it and it’s a recipe secret I’ve kept to myself up until now. I discovered it so long ago that all the official measurements and amounts of ingredients have escaped my head, but if you bear with me, maybe I can describe pretty accurately how to end up with this tasty treat.
Amelia Petrovich Preparation and Cooking Time: 20m Serves 4 •
Ingredients:
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1 eggplant per person (generally)
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½ an onion per person
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1 egg per person
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Lemon/orange zest
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Oregano
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Some type of cheese (parmesan would be the best, but I know times are hard)
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A 185g tin of tuna per person
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Pasta sauce (if you’re fancy and can figure out how to make this yourself, do it. It’s super fun. But Dolmio is also totally fine).
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Some oil
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Breadcrumbs (or you can make toast and grate it like cheese. Not kidding.)
Preheat your oven to 180C, or whatever setting lets things cook but not burst into flames. For my oven, that’s about 180C. 1) Slice your eggplant in half length-ways (so, from that strange green stalk bit right down to the bottom). 2) Now, stick your knife in about 1cm away from the edge of each eggplant half and carve out a rough circle. 3) Scoop out the center of that circle with a spoon. Basically you’re taking all the eggplant out of the eggplant so you can do stuff to it and then re-put it into the same eggplant later. Make sense? Cool. 4) Lay your hollow eggplants on a baking tray and drizzle a bit of oil over them (if you’re into salt and pepper you could sprinkle a bit of that here too). Leave them to bake and soften for 15-20mins.
5) While your eggplant shells are hanging out in the oven, dice the remaining eggplant flesh along with your onion and fry them together in a pan until the eggplant is cooked through. 6) Transfer this eggplant/onion mixture into a bowl. Add the tuna, breadcrumbs, oregano, orange rind and egg. Mix well. 7) Once the eggplant shells are done, pull them out and spoon the interesting tuna-eggplant-egg concoction into ‘em. Top with your selected cheese and pop everything back into the oven for 35minutes or until golden. 8) While the eggplants are doing their thing, heat up your pasta sauce in the microwave so you can slather them in it when they appear golden and oozy from the oven. Good god, I’m hungry now.
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Greer Rasmussen, interned at PUBLIC Restaurant, NEW YORK. Bachelor of Business
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