Baked 122 by Linda Woelk

Contents INSIDER

CREATIVE

REVIEWS

Editor's Note

Acres of Green, Ansha Krishnan

Jealous Guy, Michelle Gately

Baked Staff Profiles

Memories, Isabelle Ulliana

The Avengers, James Mackechnie

Baked Contributors

The Pink Dress, Isabel Dickson

Bond: A Review, Robert Rooney

Poetry: Ansha Krishnan, Kyle Manning

A Lifetime of Gaming (4 PIECE SEGMENT) James Hooper, Saxon Cameron, Danielle Bailey, Luke Agnew

COMMENTARY 10

Destination Unknown, Shannan Carroll

You have 1 new notification: you carnt spell. Rosalie Taylor

My Life as a Pig, Jayde de Bondt

Am I Pretty or Ugly? Caroline Kovac

Being a Little Bit Gay, Ross Healy

TRAVEL

DISCLAIMER: The Opinions and Facts expressed within this publication do not necessarily reflect the beliefs of the Journalism Students Association. The Editorial team accepts no responsibility for the opinions and facts expressed in this magazine. The Editorial team reserves the right to edit ay article submitted for publications in Baked Magazine.

24 26 30 32 34

From University to China at Just 18, Madelaine Donovan, as told to Karissa Straughen Noodles for Breakfast Thoughts of a China Explorer, Linda Woelk My Walt Disney World Internship Laura Fernandez Tibet, Ansha Krishnan Hawaii, Jamie Lennox

SOCIAL 60

Pictures from Bond's Social Events

The JSAâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Top Ten Bond University Memes

HEALTH AND BEAUTY

Vox Pops

Breast Surgery: Is it just for bigger boobs? Karissa Straughen

ADVERTISERS

The Hidden Dangers of Fake Tan, Clare Todhunter

Detour Hair

The Lake

I had a panic attack in the Red Light District, As told to Tara Baird

66 Cocomousse 68

Varsity Printing

Beauty with Ava Anastasia Pre-Exam Beauty & Pot Luck Survival Guide

One Society

5 Steps to Getting Healthy Kevin Braysher

James Mackechnie HELLO AND WELCOME TO BAKED! I sincerely hope you like change - because that’s exactly what you’ll get in the latest edition of Baked. Being an almost entirely new committee, each member of the Journalism Students’ Association has added their own unique flavour to the publication you know and love. The first thing you’ll notice about the edition is that we have abolished the theme, as we felt it inhibited people in what they could write about. As a result, the magazine now includes sections, which means there is guaranteed to be something of interest for just about everyone. First is the Commentary section, where you’ll find a number of Bondies reflecting on issues in society relevant to us as students. And if you’ve ever considered visiting or working in either China or America, you won’t want to miss our Travel section. Of course, Baked would not be what it is without its Creative component and thus a diverse range of non-fiction pieces, short stories, poems and photographs have been included to satisfy your rampant imagination. For an easy read, don’t forget to check out our Health and Beauty and Reviews sections.

Finally is our Social section, which includes photos from your favorite events, our traditional Top 10 countdown and your personal responses to some of our articles. I would like to thank my wonderful committee. Each of us was enthusiastic to make Baked the best it could be and each of us played our own important role in putting it together. I must make a special mention to our Designer, Amy McGinty, who no doubt holds the most arduous position. In such a short amount of time, she was able to transform the content we sent her into something amazing and without her the edition might have been a bit of an aesthetic flop.

ONE TWO TWO Cover Image, designed by Amy McGinty. This 3D anaglyph tree illustration symbolises change within the JSA.

Last but not least, I would like to thank our substantial reader base and sponsors for their continued support every semester. I hope you enjoy this edition of Baked as much as we enjoyed producing it. If you would ever like to contribute to the magazine, please do not hesitate to contact any member of the committee. From your Editor in Chief, James Mackechnie.

BAKED STAFF PROFILES

Amy McGinty DESIGNER

Linda Woelk PRESIDENT

Ansha Krishnan VICE PRESIDENT

Age: 26

Age: 21

Degree: Bachelor of Multimedia Design Why did you decide to join the JSA? I joined the JSA to be involved in something bigger, something that allows students to share their opinions, art, creativity and most importantly their voice… What do you want to do with yourself in the future? I want to rule to the world! No, in all seriousness, I love art and design no matter the medium and with technology evolving so quickly, it’s an exciting time to be a designer. Ultimately I see myself working in different industries expanding my design skills and maybe spending some more time working overseas.... Then rule the world.

Meet the staff who made issue ONE TWO TWO a massive hit!

And finally, if you could be any celebrity, who would it be and why? Scarlett Johansson. I’m drawn to the fact that she gets to hang out with the likes of Chris Hemsworth and Chris Evans all day… It would be nice to be Scarlett for a day!

Degree: Bachelor of Communication (Business) Why did you decide to join the JSA? I have always been a friend and supporter of the arts. I enjoy writing, singing and painting. I believe that the JSA is sort of my creative outlet as a distraction from all the business and university related work I do. I think that there are so many interesting people at Bond who are a great story in themselves and who are very talented in one thing or another. I want to capture this in Baked and present it to the rest of the Bond community. What do you want to do with yourself in the future? I have no idea yet. There are so many options, especially when you study marketing and communications. I would love to one day return back to the magazine business and be part of a major magazine such as Vogue or Cosmopolitan. Another goal of mine is to be part of the media team for the Olympics at one stage in my life. Overall, I just want to be able to stay in Australia, but work for an international organization that does business with Asia and Germany (my two favourite places after Australia). Oh and I almost forgot, later once I have done all of these things I would love to spend all the money I gained and start my own charity and invest in education for poor children. Yes, I know I will have a busy life, but I will love it.

James Mackechnie EDITOR IN CHIEF

Ross Healy SUB EDITOR

Matthew Corry SECRETARY

Natalie Lane TREASURER

Age: 20

Age: 19

Age: 23

Age: 19

Degree: Bachelor of Arts/Laws

Degree: Bachelor of Communication (Business)

Degree: Bachelor of Communication

Degree: Bachelor of Law (Jurisdoctor)

Degree: Bachelor of Journalism

Why did you decide to join the JSA? I decided to join the JSA as I have a passion for creative writing and because it gave me a chance to be published. What do you want to do with yourself in the future? I am very interested in human rights and photography, however, I am not very sure what I want to do. Hopefully it’ll come to me! And finally, if you could be any celebrity, who would it be and why? If I could be a celebrity I would be Natalie Portman - she’s one of my heroes. Smart, beautiful and talented!

Why did you decide to join the JSA? I joined the committee to share my love for writing, editing and publishing with the rest of the student body... Plus, I can put it on my resume! What do you want to do with yourself in the future? For someone with only two semesters to go, I am ridiculously indecisive. I either want to work for a magazine or in a publishing house, or alternatively in a role that involves creative marketing strategies. And finally, if you could be any celebrity, who would it be and why? The first person that comes to mind is Josh Hutcherson, for many reasons. I would love to star in The Hunger Games trilogy… I was definitely behind the bandwagon but it’s such a good series!

Why did you decide to join the JSA? I love writing and seeing what other people are writing about too. Then putting them all together is the icing on the published cake. What do you want to do with yourself in the future? I I one day wish to write several novels for children, give my own TED talk on the importance of creativity and education and work for the BBC doing something life changing and/or inspirational.

Why did you decide to join the JSA? I decided to join the JSA because I have always had an interest in journalism. What do you want to do with yourself in the future? I am looking to work in Taxation Law. And finally, if you could be any celebrity, who would it be and why? I'd be Robert Downey Jr, because he plays Iron Man and Sherlock Holmes.

Why did you decide to join the JSA? To meet other journalists at Bond. What do you want to do with yourself in the future? Be able to travel and work – any budding journalist’s dream, right? And finally, if you could be any celebrity, who would it be and why? Audrey Hepburn, enough said.

And finally, if you could be any celebrity, who would it be and why? I would be JK Rowling. Just so I could thank myself every day but never really know why. But really, it’s actually me thanking her in a disembodied, ghostly sort of way.

And finally, if you could be any celebrity, who would it be and why? I would be Lady Gaga, as I would love to wear some of her crazy outfits and get away with it and I would like to have the number of followers she has on Twitter.

BAKED CONTRIBUTORS

Karissa Straughen SPONSORSHIP DIRECTOR

Clare Todhunter PROMOTIONS DIRECTOR

Age: 18

Age: 20

Degree: Bachelor of Journalism

Why did you decide to join the JSA? I wanted to take part in a society at Bond and since I am doing Journalism, I couldn’t think of a better society to be a part of!!

Why did you decide to join the JSA? A long-term fan of Baked (formerly The Clocktower), I wanted to get a taste of the magazine industry and what it’s like to put a publication together. I love working with the JSA, we have a great team!

What do you want to do with yourself in the future? I want to be a newspaper journalist and work for The Australian. And finally, if you could be any celebrity, who would it be and why? Angelina Jolie, I already have her lips so why can’t I have Brad Pitt too?

What do you want to do with yourself in the future? I’m expecting to finish my degree at the end of this year and would like to go into a career in either fashion journalism or broadcast journalism. And finally, if you could be any celebrity, who would it be and why? Delta Goodrem. Come on, she’s just perfect. Look at that hair!

Contributors PHOTOGRAPHY Jamie Lennox Caroline Kovac

CREATIVE CONTRIBUTORS Amy McGinty

COMMENTARY By Shannan Carroll Life has never been defined by certainties. If history has taught us anything, it is perhaps that the most unexpected, unforeseeable moments in time come to bear the greatest significance. Without the fundamental restructuring of Britain’s 18th century textile industry, we wouldn’t have had the Industrial Revolution; nor would we have the Sydney Harbour Bridge, modern weaponry, or contemporary infrastructure. Without the Wright brothers, we may not have the AirBus360s we board without a second thought as we commence our liberating quest to discover the world – or at least take reprieve from the world of textbooks, 8am lectures, and assignments started far too late. Without the disintegration of the Soviet Union, we may not have had American hegemony. Extraordinary is the forebear of predictable. Undeniably, however, the contemporary era is defined by a kind of uncertainty far more acute than that faced by past generations. The reason is threefold: the cumulative weight of issues left unresolved by our predecessors; the current pace of change; and the unparalleled interconnectivity between states and their peoples. The environmental movement of the 1970s, from which Greenpeace was born and to which contemporary events such as Earth Day can trace their origins, represented a significant breakthrough in generating public awareness of environmental degradation. This period marked the beginning of a collective effort to limit the impact of human activity on the natural world; as noted by the website of the US’ Environmental Protection Agency, 1972 brought to an end the use of DDT. Yet, the issue of environmental destruction was never wholly resolved, and remains a point of contention amongst world leaders; case in point: Copenhagen 2009. Admittedly, the scientific evidence purporting to support theories of human-induced global warming remains inconclusive, and numerous scandals surrounding the validity of various environmental investigations have done little to help the cause. However, waiting for conclusive evidence that the world is facing climate change in excess of natural environmental fluctuations before taking action, can be equated to waiting until confirmation that one’s lung cancer is a consequence of smoking before ditching the cigarettes. Where there is any cause for concern, the proactive response is typically preferable to the reactive. And there is cause for concern.

TECHNOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENTS INTENDED TO EASE STRAINS WITHIN THE WORKPLACE COULD END UP REPLACING THE VERY PEOPLE THEY WERE INTENDED TO ASSIST.

In early March 2012, Hagar Cohen published an article on the ABC website that revealed the increased threat that will be faced by communities in the Torres Strait, should water levels rise as predicted. Moreover, an article published in The Australian in November 2011 noted the demands issued by the Association of Small Island States for immediate action on climate change and rising water levels.

COMMENTARY

Fundamentally, just as the potency of the threat posed by climate change remains unclear, so too does the future of a world that takes too long to act. If the deceptivly slow progress of any threat posed by climate change represents one extreme of the kinds of uncertainties faced by a modern world, the breakneck pace of technological innovation represents the other. From unmanned drones, to cloning and designer babies, to the less confronting - but more overwhelming – smart phones and iPads, technological invention has proliferated at a rate never before seen. Doubts about the future impact of such developments have propagated at a similar pace, across the military, medical and social spectrums. Where there is light, there is darkness; with every new technological development comes a risk of misuse, abuse, or inadvertent damage. The latter threat is most apparent in the development of social and functional technologies intended to make easier the life of the individual. There is no surprise factor in the fact that, as reported in the South Australian Government’s Healthy Weight Fact Sheet 2, the World Health Organisation has identified modern technology-based toys as a contributing factor to the obesity epidemic. According to an article published on the ABC website on 23 March 2012, internet users can now use Google to take a virtual tour of the Amazon. Google isn’t exactly a toy, but use of the internet server is also far less likely to burn any kilojoules than the physical exploration of South America’s landscapes. Moreover, technological developments intended to ease strains within the workplace could end up replacing the very people they were intended to assist. Whilst the introduction of self-serve checkouts into major Australian supermarkets has not precipitated a major layoff of staff, a gradual reduction in employment of service persons seems only inevitable. The notion that humanity may one day be replaced by robots remains the stuff of sci-fi movies, but now, as never before, such a concept seems to be grounded in the extrapolation of actual trends, as opposed to far-fetched conspiracy theories. Present generations are certainly living through a technological revolution; who, or what, comes to power, and the state in which society if left, remains to be seen. Similarly unpredictable is the future of global political and economic relations. Perhaps one of the most over-used words of the modern era is ‘globalisation’, and yet, the phenomenon is fundamental to any legitimate discussion of the causes and potential outcomes of the intense instability presently facing the international

community. The year that was 2011 saw civil society arise from a too-long slumber, empowered by the reach of modern social networking and modern media to demand change with a degree of conviction, arguably, unsustainable in a lessconnected world. The trend continues today; the future of the Middle East remains anybody’s guess. Furthermore, with the global spread of technology and information, states today face the uncertainty of security threats that have assumed a degree of subtlety impossible in the past. Nobody was going to miss an advancing army; a computer virus, quietly spread from one classified database, or coordinating source, to another, could wreak havoc without ever raising an alarm, were the brains behind computer soft- and hard-ware defence systems to miss a loophole in a formula, or miss a tid-bit of information somebody else noticed and remembered. Indeed, states have been forced to take unprecedented precautions to protect their borders from enemies who never have to make contact to make an impact. Notably, in 2010, Australia opened a Cyber Security Operations Centre to counter exactly such challenges. This move was unsurprising; according to an article published by Nicola Berkovic in The Australian in January 2010, the Australian Defence Department was forced to fight off in excess of 2000 cyber attacks in 2009 alone. Undeniably, however, the poster child for the unpredictability born of interconnectivity remains the GFC – an acronym so oft-cited that it requires no definition. The collapse of the sub-prime mortgage market in the USA brought the global financial system to its knees; the Marxists almost got the collective failure of capitalism they had predicted not so long ago. A combination of bailouts, economic stimulus packages, and bravado, brought the global economic system back from the brink; however, instability endures. Europe hasn’t quite learned how to walk again, and the rest of the world is a little too scared to run for fear of knocking her over, starting another race to the bottom that no nation wants to win. Indeed, uncertainty is both a hallmark and a product of time. As years pass, decisions are made and events occur that add to the feeling of perpetual instability, whether by virtue of the flaws inherent in those decisions, or the possibilities that arise from the happening of those events nobody saw coming. As future leaders, in all fields and disciplines, we cannot expect to cure the world of this chronic volatility - such an expectation would be naive. But we can hope to give the forces of a change a little shove in the right direction.

HOWEVER, THE POSTER CHILD FOR THE Z W BORN OF INTERCONNECTIVITY REMAINS THE GFC – AN ACRONYM SO OFT-CITED THAT IT REQUIRES NO DEFINITION.

COMMENTARY By Rosalie Taylor There is nothing worse than scrolling through the newsfeed of whatever social network you use to express the underwhelming, self-absorbed, melodramatic musings of your life only to be met with a barrage of assaults on the English language. I received a text message recently from a friend gushing over her new ‘noes’ piercing. Despite the instant jolt of irritation I felt towards her, I resisted the temptation to vigilantly erase her virtual presence from every possible device, network and contact list. I overlooked the mistake as an unintentional smart phone auto-correct. Minutes later she posted a photo with the caption “new noes piercing’. Being the grammatically conscientious person I am, I immediately took it upon myself to correct her. Unless you have only just emerged from a Y2K safe house, you will know that the internet makes up a large part of how we interact. You will know when to use the #hashtag, you will understand the term blogging, and at some point in your life you will probably try to become tumblr famous before resigning yourself to half-heartedly posting pictures of cats at semiregular intervals. Social networking is an inevitable part of our lives, but it could be contributing to the slaughtering of the English language. There are seven million Australians causing blemishes on the canvas of the written language, scoring below average in literary prowess. According to the Adult Literacy and Life Skills Survey, this number is an improvement on literate skill fifteen years ago. So why are our newsfeeds still filled with barely decipherable babble? The study found that 54% of teens aged 15-19 have sub-par spelling, grammar, and sentence construction. Teens that will soon be infiltrating our workplaces armed with poorly thrown together CVs and tablets to tweet about it. A Cambridge study found similar facts: almost a quarter of high school students don’t recognize that ‘me and my friend’, ‘them books’ and ‘Tom had gotten cold’ are incorrect. Master of Strategic Communication at Canberra University, Professor James Mahoney says society has simply changed: the message is now more important than the way it’s delivered. Gen Y is technologically literate, and assume they will always be able to rely on spell check to correct their degrading attempts at communicating. “They don’t understand the need for accuracy, few people use a decent dictionary these days, wouldn’t know a thesaurus from a brontosaurus, and don’t know the correct meanings of words.

”The misconception is that we don’t need to know how to spell, construct sentences and use grammar: people will understand what we are saying anyway or at least be able to guess. It’s not surprising at all that over 70% of Gen Y use at least one social media website according to the Pew Internet Research Centre. Today’s technology means that the picture of the meal you are about to eat, the latest antics of your cat, and subtly scathing comments about everyone you meet can now be shared with your dedicated technological following almost instantly without a second thought. Professor of Informatics at Curtin University Dr. Heinz Dreher, says young people have been trained to respond to the here-and-now through the instant reply mentality of social media. “Not only does language suffer in that superficial and hurried action, but so too does thought.” His concern is there may be a chance that this superficiality could then manifest in other areas of the written language. Social media has almost developed its own language to suit the ‘instant gratification’ environment, no user is interested in elegant prose writing. As irritating as this may be for the ‘Grammar Nazis’ among us, it is a manipulation of the English language designed specifically for the online environment. Although this may seem unbearable, as long as the made up language can be confined to social media, it remains tolerable. The ‘new language’ becomes an issue when poor literacy transcends from social media to professional media. An email, information request, or report is downright embarrassing when typed in text speak or riddled with mistakes. If we didn’t keep up with changing technology we would be a backward society. Professor Mahoney recalls his experiences of literacy: “When I was at high school in the ice ages, we lost marks for spelling errors; when I worked as a journalist we got hauled over the coals by subs, publicly in front of the whole newsroom, for mistakes we would know to never make again,” he remembers. Gone are the days of a pen and paper, meticulously ruling the margin of each page. The Australian Bureau of Statistics reports that at least 95% of school aged students are computer literate, and use computers for their studies. This means that spell check has become a tool in the curriculum of every school. We see evidence of this splattered across our social networks. Most social networks now autocorrect, but somehow there are still those irritating people that manage to bypass this handy function.

It becomes difficult to express world-shaking ideas using Harvard quality literacy with a 140 character limit. I am fairly sure a colon followed by a close bracket breaks some grammatical rules, but it’s the quickest way to show you’re happy :). Let’s not forget that language has changed since Shakespeare’s day. We even have abbreviations like P.S. and R.S.V.P that we now take for granted. Language is constantly changing and as much as it hurts those of us that are stubbornly grounded in tradition; we have to start accepting this. Information Technology Professor Dian Tjondronegoro of Queensland University of Technology says ‘errors’ often come from Gen Y’s drive to stay relevant. “Young people like to be seen as being current, and one of the key ingredients is the ability to use new language,” he says. Coining a viral internet term is a fashion statement, it may be something we haven’t heard of, or an unusual spelling of a word, but that’s the way the internet works. New terms online mean we don’t have to comply to the old fashioned, we have created a new ‘tech speak’ to keep up with an ever changing world. I am not suggesting we just pass off every nails-ona-chalkboard offense as a development in the ‘living English language’ or an expression of creativity. No, I personally insist on obnoxiously correcting every online acquaintance with the ever-patronizing star symbol followed by the correct version of whatever error they have offended me with. For those of us who are stubbornly refusing to fully comply with text speak, there are a few things you can do short of deleting every serial literary offender from your virtual realm. Reading is linked to writing (not only is this obvious, but studies have proven it), so anyone can improve their writing by turning off the TV and picking up a book, or at least swapping Facebook for a news site more often than assignments require it. Don’t expect to see a phoenix style resurrection of traditional English anytime soon. There is no true form of ‘correct English’, and never has been. We need to come to terms with the fact that our newsfeeds will continue to be plagued with a ridiculous deluge of inferior spelling and grammar. The over reliance on spell check and autocorrect combined with the need for instantaneous communication is already seeing Gen Y and generations after slip into a whole new language, that one day, in order to continue creeping around the internet, we may be forced to comply with.

I don’t deny having used short forms of words and atrocious grammar throughout my social networking rise to fame (by ‘fame’ I mean I am working towards at least my first twitter century).

COMMENTARY

SUDDENLY THERE IS A FRANTIC KNOCK ON MY WINDOW. IT’S A BLONDE WOMAN; SHE’S MIDDLE-AGED AND A LITTLE BIT CHUBBY. “PIG, PIG ARE YOU OK?” SHE SAYS. I AM NOT A PIG. I’M A PERSON, A REAL PERSON.

By Jayde de Bondt I am interrupted. She cackles so hard and so close to my face I can see her tonsils warble. Her breath is putrid, a pungent cocktail of garlic, cigarettes and alcohol. I try to remain still. It’s difficult as sweat has started to trickle down my furrowed brow. It rests on my top lip and I resist the urge to flick my tongue out and taste its saltiness. My eyes are sagging, the left blinks uncontrollably. I stay the same and the woman, bored with me, decides to cross the road. I did not dare to breathe before, but now I greedily gulp the air around me. The woman disappears into the sea of umbrellas and coffee stands, but already there is a new pair of beady slits, staring full of judgement and malice. The pink fluffy suit begins to pull at my sides, weighing me down. My aching bones creak with each sloth-move I make. My curly tail dangles between my legs, hitting each thigh as I trudge up that awful hill, and I wonder what this week has in store for me. It’s only been three hours and I’ve already had enough… exaggerated stares at the “silly bitch” wearing a pig suit, old men joking that I resemble their wife or mother, school children pulling my ears and laughing at my snout, if only they could put themselves in my hooves.

Wearing a pig suit for a week is meant to be a fun, a little bit of a laugh. Already I feel I’m wrong, already I know this isn’t going to be the week I intended. I long to retreat back to my room, run home and sleep. No-one can bother me there, well, except me. Pity, it’s only four and I have another class. Fifteen pairs of eyes watch me enter the classroom. I can tell they’re all wondering why I’m dressed as a pig, but they’re not game to ask. It’s almost like a silent game of truth or dare, only no-one’s yet agreed to play. Finally, Ginger-Ninja manages to fumble upon the courage to ask…“Why are you dressed like a swine?” I don’t want to tell her the real reason; it’d ruin the fun. “Oh, it’s a political statement,” I say. Her upper lip stiffens, and her eyes widen. I don’t think she is satisfied with my answer but she doesn’t ask me anymore questions. Instead she puts her head down. I shimmy past her to take my seat and notice her hands quiver, although she tries so hard not to move. I’ve made an impact. She is like a deer stunned by headlights, nowhere to run. It’s day two. Maybe today will be different. No, I know today will be different. As I brush my teeth in the bathroom, one of the girls from my block walks in. “It’s so hot out today, you’re goin’ to be bacon,” she says. I can’t help but laugh, I can do puns.

But she’s familiar, and where I’m going to eat breakfast, everyone is a stranger. I begin to walk quickly, the quicker I walk, the less uncomfortable I feel. I glance at people when I pass them, they’re smiling at me. Still, I keep up the pace. I pass a young couple; they must think I am out of ear-shot as I can hear them whisper about me. “She’s gutsy to do that.” I agree, I am. What nice strangers. I begin to slow down; people seem to be embracing my outfit. But as I am, I realise people have stopped staring at me – something else has caught their attention. Behind me, a woman has fallen out of her wheelchair; she must have hit the curb awkwardly. I didn’t even hear her fall. At least fifteen people run to her aid. They’re like seagulls fighting over a chip. I join the crowd of do-gooders. I overhear a man with a grey hat and lazy eye suggest lifting her. An older lady in a blue blouse doesn’t agree. They squabble for a while before another man interjects. The woman just sits there, blood gushes from her knee and tears run down her right cheek. “Can I get you anything?” I ask the woman. She gives me a faint smile. I look up and ask some-one to get a first aid kit man. Several people are frowning. The man with the grey hat and lazy eye snickers. “Go back to your fuckin’ sty.” The do-gooders turn against the pig. I don’t know what to do. Maybe I am cowardly, maybe I am smart.

“I will,” I say as I get up to leave. Fast walk, jog, run and then sprint. I can’t get away fast enough. I am out of sight, but the woman is still on my mind. It’s day five. I call a friend to see if she will come with me to the shopping centre, she isn’t available until two. Its 10.00am, I need to go now. I’ve spent the last three days in hiding; I’m desperate for supplies, namely deodorant. I get in the car and I begin to feel very hot. So hot…too hot. My heart is pounding so loud my ears are ringing from the sound. I rev my car too much before changing gears as onlookers stare at me when I pass through the round-a-bout, then again maybe it’s just my pig head. I park awkwardly; this stress is really getting to me. Maybe I should just wait until two? No, it’s got to be now. I drag myself out of the car and trudge into the shopping centre. My head is down, but I can still feel onlooker’s eyes burning into the back of my pig suit. As I get closer to Coles people barely seem to notice me. I look around to see what interests them more than me… a group of special needs children, and their carers. I don’t stare; they already have enough people staring at them. And then there’s a yelp, and a child is tugging at my arm, he’s punching my belly. “You’re my pig now, you’re mine,” the boy puffs, as he tries to drag my rigid body back towards his group. If people didn’t notice me before, they do now.

I try and tell the boy I’m not a real pig, I’m just pretending. Wrong thing to say. Punches become hysterical thrashes. The other children begin to stir, I’m helpless. The carer comes. She’s yelling but I can’t hear what she is saying, something about me being stupid, but it is all back-ground noise. I am just trying not to cry, nobody can have the satisfaction of making me cry. It’s not their fault though, it’s mine.

Maybe I have a fever? It’s hot, I feel hot. My thinking begins. It’s endless. Who am I?

I manage to make it back to my car and there is no stopping the tears now. I just want to go home but I’m hysterical. I can’t breathe properly, Oh God, I can’t breathe. Suddenly there is a frantic knock on my window. It’s a blonde woman; she’s middleaged and a little bit chubby. “Pig, pig are you ok?” she says. I am not a pig. I’m a person, a real person. My fists clench tightly together. My body becomes stiff and I slowly turn my head to face the woman. I stare at her directly in the eyes and look at her for what seems like eternity. The tears are gone, only anger remains. She begins to back away slowly. I want to shout at her, scream at her, but my lips feel as though they’ve been super-glued shut. I want her to know, I have a name. I want her to know, I hate her.

A kid pulls my tail when I’m not looking; I almost topple back-wards. Little shit. I’m twelve now, we do partner dancing in sport class. The girls get to choose which boy they want to dance with. I already know who I’ll pick, I have to run fast though, I don’t want to be stuck with the left-overs. There are always three leftovers; the worst one to get is fatty. He smells and his face is covered in pussy spots. Does he even shower? The race begins, I pick who I want. As I walk to the dance floor I look back and fatty along with his two sidekicks are making their way to their chairs. They’re frowning. I’m not a bad person. We were just kids. I never said anything mean to anyone and I was always polite. I volunteer, and study hard…I have lots of friends.

It’s day seven, and the clock has struck 12pm. My week as a pig is over, I’m not relieved. I lie in bed and try to sleep, but I can’t. Either my sheets are too sticky or my air conditioner is too loud.

I am interrupted. My room is dark, but I can still see the shadow of a pig’s head facing me. It’s watching me, smiling.

COMMENTARY

By Caroline Kovac The reply comes back immediately. I can almost see Sweet-boy’s eyes rolling through the computer scene, as if I was silly for not knowing: Yes I still find you pretty, like I said last week. I reply automatically as if the words mean nothing: Okay thanks, I’ll put you in my story. Send. As a child I never recall really being told that I was pretty, but then again I was never told I was ugly either. My hair was always scruffy, curly, thin and usually tied up on the crown of my head. My eyes were a confused green and brown, something you might find in a swamp. They were also quite large, with caterpillars as thick as male leg hair crawling untidily above. But luckily for me, these features eventually became my best assets. Not to mention my short round legs, which earned me the name “little legs” as a toddler. As a young girl, beauty was important and it only became more essential as I reached my teenage years. Going through this awkward phase, people for the first time started to bring up my imperfections and it always made me wonder why did people wait until now to say something? Was it not obvious before? Or is it because I was entering the world of adulthood, where women were expected to look perfect? Whatever the answer, I wasn’t sure. But what I did know was that to be considered beautiful was to be accepted into adolescent society.

I thought my friends took perfection too far when they started wearing make-up to school and straightening their hair so that it was as dry as stale bread. But an even bigger issue has emerged over the last couple of years involving teenage girls and online communication.

Not only are girls seeking confirmation of how they look from friends, but girls as young as 11 are posting videos online, asking complete strangers, “am I pretty or ugly?” I didn’t understand this concept at first. Not only was this dangerous, but what were these teenage girls trying to achieve? Frustrated, I tried to remember back to when I was their age, wanting to contemplate their rationale. I came up with one main motivation behind this practice; acceptance. But it still didn’t explain why they sought this online. To try and understand this notion more, I decided to make my own video.

I THOUGHT MY FRIENDS TOOK PERFECTION TOO FAR WHEN THEY STARTED WEARING MAKE-UP TO SCHOOL, AND STRAIGHTENING THEIR HAIR SO THAT IT WAS AS DRY AS STALE BREAD.

Even though there are literally hundreds of these videos on YouTube, I still felt nervous about posting mine online. I had always promised myself never to make an online video. This was not only putting myself out there, but it was also breaking a promise I had made to myself. Sometimes you just have to tempt fate, right? Am I pretty or ugly? My finger hovered over the enter button, my video about to be posted for the world to see. “Should I post it?” I asked myself. “Maybe I should do it later.” I moved my finger back off my keyboard. One day later and I had tried to put it off as long as I could, just staring at my computer screen. I wasn’t worried about what people might write, because generally I am very confident. But it was still unnerving not knowing what people might say.

This could be a potentially life changing thing to do, and I couldn’t help but wonder how other girls might feel when posting their videos? Enter. My finger took control over my rational self and my video was online. Immediately I thought the worst. Everyone is going to think I’m ugly, this was almost self-torture. How could teenage girls put themselves through this? It didn’t seem to be doing anything for my self-confidence so far. All it had done was make me feel insecure, back to a time when I did feel ugly, when I first realised I wasn’t perfect.

I KEPT THINKING ABOUT ALL OF MY FLAWS, AND HOW PEOPLE MIGHT GO ABOUT MAKING FUN OF ME. WOULD THEY NOTICE MY EYEBROWS, LIPS, NOSE, OR LEGS? IT SEEMED MY MIND WAS STARTING TO GET AWAY FROM ME, ALONG WITH MY SELF-CONFIDENCE.

It was 7th grade and I was sitting on the oval besides my girlfriends and two boys in my class, Baby-face and Candlestick. I thought I was pretty cool, leaning back on the grass, chatting away profusely. I shut my mouth long enough to notice Candlestick staring at me, just staring, staring, staring. He kept looking so I turned away, breaking his gaze. Candlestick approached me in front of my friends. His face only centimetres away, I could smell is reeking breath. His eyes connected with mine and he blurted out what he’d wanted say all year. “DID YOU KNOW YOUR EYEBROWS ARE UNEVEN?” he said pointing his shrilled finger at me. Half his face smiled with pleasure, his tiny frame shaking with excitement. Until this moment I was unaware of my uneven eyebrows and all of my other imperfections. My face dropped, and I ran home to pluck my eyebrows for the first time… Day two of my online video and still no responses. I was half glad that no one had commented, because generally I didn’t really want to hear what others had to say. But the waiting was the worst of it all.

I kept thinking about all of my flaws, and how people might go about making fun of me. Would they notice my eyebrows, lips, nose, or legs? It seemed my mind was starting to get away from me, along with my self-confidence. I started thinking about the fact that no one had commented, and until now I didn’t realise just how many of these videos were online. Mine would be at the very end of the list, probably page 101 on YouTube. This was a bigger problem than I thought, and all I could do was wait for replies I didn’t really want to receive. Day 8. Finally one comment. I wasn’t sure if I should look, just waiting for responses over the last week had made my mind think the worst. I couldn’t contemplate the real pressure this would have on teenage girls and their self-esteem, if it were affecting me so greatly. Over the past week I had seen some awful comments on other girls’ videos, so I was surprised when I read mine.

I was slightly disappointed that there was no thrill or compulsion attached to reading these remarks. This made me think back to when I did feel truly beautiful and I felt irritated I couldn’t gain this same sensation from my video experiment. I was just 18, giggly, and cheerful. For good reason too, I was about to see Blue-eyes, the boy of any girls dreams. He was handsome, kind, with a killer smile, and best of all he was a great listener. I was standing in the elevator, level 1, 2, 3, 4. My legs shook as the elevator doors opened, my eyes glued to the swirled carpet.

“WOW you’re really beautiful,” SteveChui123 said. One day later another comment appeared.

“Caroline,” Blue-eyes yelled out, surprisingly happy to see me.

“You are one of the prettiest girls I have seen, so beautiful,” Funseeker6969 said. Surprisingly, even though these comments were so positive, it didn’t make me feel any prettier than I already did.

I looked up immediately, slightly put off by his enthusiasm. He opened his arms to greet me, his broad shoulders reached around me like a python, constricting my body. He pulled back quickly to look at my face, smiled, and slightly tilted his head to the right. He pushed my hair off my face: to get a better look, I think. Blue-eyes was always bad with emotions, and even though he didn’t say what he felt, I knew what his smile was telling me.

I was shocked that I actually felt numb to their compliments. This was particularly unexpected as I thought I would enjoy the attention. After all, isn’t this the reason most other girls are doing it. Although I can’t speak for every girl, I realised that for me, being told you are beautiful by people you respect and trust is far more impacting than by someone online. Having reached this realisation,

For me, making one of these videos made me realise that it’s not always what people write or say that makes you feel beautiful. Maybe we all just want the truth, acceptance or for someone to acknowledge us. So let’s stop pointing out our defects and just tell ourselves we’re beautiful.

COMMENTARY

There comes a time in all of our lives when we are positioned with something so preposterous that we feel it needs no further discussion. But should someone have to hide or be ashamed of who they are in fear of what others think of them? Have we not developed further as the egalitarian and laidback nation we Australians like to promote ourselves as? Seemingly not. During my time as school captain of during my senior year, I hid the same secret from my cohort, feeling that the truth would only hinder my reputation and I would not be taken as seriously as if I were straight. I look back and pity myself for what I thought I was, and what I was is different. Looking back, I feel as though I could have done so much more in the name of leadership had I embraced my difference and spoken out for those who did not have a voice. Is that not what good leaders should do? As much as we would like to believe that we aim to accept all for who and what they are, this is false. We teach children in schools to respect, accept and tolerate everyone, yet we do not often practice what we preach. For those who believe that homosexual people are accepted in modern society, this may not be entirely true. Yet. In February 2012, comedian, actress and television personality Magda Szubanski not only officially came out to the nation, but also admitted she felt suicidal tendencies during times where she felt utterly alone. Australian audiences looked on in wonder at how such a happy-go-lucky character could have ever felt such things. But it is the environment that instills these feelings within some of us, into people like me. Internationally, in late 2010, a string of publicised suicides of teenage homosexuals on social media stood as the catalyst for the viral ‘It Gets Better’ campaign. To tell those still in the closet exactly that. It gets better. Did it really need the death of teenagers to make a global society wake up and establish equality? Should the matter of someone’s sexual orientation alter other peoples’ perception of them? Of course not, but no doubt it happens. From a fictional standpoint, in 2007, author of the bestselling Harry Potter series JK Rowling outed Hogwarts Headmaster Professor Albus Dumbledore as gay. Fan reactions were mixed but mostly positive, with the author famously saying that if she knew the news would have made fans happy, she would have let them know earlier. It is this that stands as the issue. It is exactly how I felt and today I know this to be fallacious. Fashion designer Coco Chanel once said, “I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t think about you at all.” While this statement could be seen as a bit pigheaded, a lesson to be learned from it is that we should not be phased by what other people think. Those unwilling to come out to their parents, friends, families, colleagues or fellow students for fear of what they think or how they may be perceived are not at fault. But like the ‘It Gets Better’ campaign, it never hurts to remind others that help and support are always available. But then there are others still. Those who, to their friends, are definitely gay but never truly admit it. Many of us have probably encountered such a person who you always felt was ‘that way’ but always seemed to deny it when asked. Those people are not just stuck in the closet, they’re all the way in Narnia. There must be a reason for why they have taken up residence among the Pevensies and Aslan. The fear, uncertainty, apprehension and anxiety of those who have not officially come out is understandably difficult, but being who they are should not change how we perceive them. These Narnians, for lack of a better label, should not have to feel like this. While our society continues to develop, and find other things to argue about once we’ve solved one problem, it seems we always need something controversial. By Ross Healy Many younger children may not be able to get away with swear words while at school or at home, so other words have since been factored in in their stead. Like the word ‘gay’ for example. No longer do we associate it with happy or carefree, but more often it connotates negative things. As a result, these negative connotations condition people to associate the word ‘gay’ with something bad. If you didn’t know, it used to mean carefree and lighthearted. Now picture this. A student stands tall and represents his cohort by delivering a speech as the leader of the student body. He speaks fairly and true, aiming to do so for the benefit of others. He is easily accessible and approachable and very well liked among his social group. But while they think they know him, the student hides a secret. A secret he believes could tarnish his reputation should the truth be spoken aloud. The student is gay.

The very topic of two gay people marrying is exactly this. What eager political figure would come out to the public when they would not even be allowed to marry in their own country? What would the public think of them? Are they fit to lead us if they swing that way? Of course not. But for many, it is sad to say that they may wish to play it safe. To stay in Narnia until such time as many of us communally agree that being gay is ok. Officially. Because it’s really such a problem. But I’m gay anyway, so of course I write this objectively. If you are reading this and think that homosexuality is wrong for whatever reason, that’s fine too. That’s what you think and you are 100% entitled to your own opinion. But know that these publically voiced negative opinions are keeping some people hidden in closets and causing them a bit of a tough time. You only have to Google the words ‘It Gets Better’ to get an idea of how hard it is for some to shape their identity. But it should also paint a clearer picture about those who shape our society who also happen to be gay (or in support of homosexuality). They are letting others know that it is ok and that it will get better.

LOOKING BACK, I FEEL AS THOUGH I COULD HAVE DONE SO MUCH MORE IN THE NAME OF LEADERSHIP HAD I EMBRACED MY DIFFERENCE AND SPOKEN OUT FOR THOSE WHO DID NOT HAVE A VOICE. IS THAT NOT WHAT GOOD LEADERS SHOULD DO?

TRAVEL

MADELAINE’S TIPS: 1.

The more ‘dingy’ the restaurant the better the food.

Traveling by bus is cheaper if you are on a low budget.

Never be afraid to stay at a backpackers, they will take care of you and your travels.

You don’t have to speak Chinese to go to China.

If you need to get your hair cut, go simple!

Could you imagine your first home away from home being in China? For Madelaine Donovan it was exactly that as she moved there to teach English at just age 18.

As told to Karissa Straughen. ~ Madelaine Donovan, 21, Gold Coast, Aus. “We walked into the cheapest place we could find in Ping’ an, Guangxi and we were quite impressed. Although it looked like a wooden cubby house, it was spacious. I looked out the window, expecting to hit my face but there were no window panes! Sure…no window panes, who needs windows? We set our bags down and went out for the day, wanting to explore the scenery and get a sense of the Ping’an culture. When we came back there was this huge spider. Not only was it huge, but it had created a massive web across the whole room, above the bed and everywhere. It was under the bed, over the bed, across the door, the ceiling and the window. I don’t know how the spider did so much in the time we were gone. I didn’t end up getting much sleep during that visit. It was one of the many strange things I saw in China. I went to Wilderness School in Adelaide. I was set on becoming a doctor in Year 12, so my whole life was dedicated to studying and prepping for the interviews to get into medicine. One day, while watching others prep for the interviews, I finally realised I was in it for the challenge, not because I wanted to be a doctor. I was pretty exhausted after year 12 and really wanted a break, so I thought that maybe a gap year would help me relax. I didn’t know where I wanted to go but I had taken Chinese at school when I was younger and so I put China down as my first preference. Before I knew it, I was off to China to teach English. It was on a volunteer basis, but I ended up having my own English Major students at Zhang Zhou City University. I had free accommodation at the university and was given an allowance of AU$200 a month, which was really reasonable as the university was in an agricultural city and everything was

pretty cheap. I amazingly ended up spending very little of my own money throughout the six months I was there.

MADELAINE’S CHINA TRAVELS:

I was definitely surprised when I realised that I was teaching students who were about five years older than me! I hadn’t even been to university and yet I was already a university teacher? It was a great opportunity because I was given flexibility within the classes I taught, so I ended up structuring it myself. Little did I know what I was setting myself up for when the papers came in because I had five different classes and in each class there were about 50 students, so the sheer stack of papers I had was overwhelming. I taught for one semester (four months) and was able to travel for two months after, I pretty much went all around China with my volunteer partner Jess. It was an exhilarating experience because we travelled by night buses instead of the train because they were cheaper and faster. When I told my students that I was going to travel by bus they all screamed, ‘Why the bus Miss? Why are you not taking the train?’ China is like Australia, it takes a while to get anywhere, so sometimes we would be on one bus for more than 15 hours. During our trip we also travelled with a Dutch man, Ted, who was also volunteering and I knew he was having a horrible time on the night buses. All the beds were really small, made to fit the normal size in China, but Ted was about 1.84m and did not fit at all. My greatest adventure was when we went to the Great Wall of China (outside Beijing). We actually decided to go to the most remote part of the wall because it is usually more pristine. We took the chair lift up the wall, but the most interesting thing was the way down! They had this amusement ride, so it was pretty much a toboggan ride down off the wall that lasted for about 10 minutes.

Blue travel line indicates that she started in Zhangzhou and the last stop was Zhouzhuang before heading back to Zhangzhou.

MY GREATEST ADVENTURE WAS WHEN WE WENT TO THE GREAT WALL OF CHINA… WE TOOK THE CHAIR LIFT UP THE WALL, BUT THE MOST INTERESTING THING WAS THE WAY DOWN! THEY HAD THIS AMUSEMENT RIDE, SO IT WAS PRETTY MUCH A TOBOGGAN RIDE DOWN OFF THE WALL THAT LASTED FOR ABOUT 10 MINUTES.

Like the famous women in Ping’an, who wear beautifully coloured dresses and never cut their hair, Jess and I felt like we hadn’t cut our hair in a very long time. We were good at conversational Chinese, but some of the specifics were still hard for us. So when we went to a local hairdresser, Jess and I only knew the basics, like a trim or fringe. Jess asked for just a trim and so did I, but I wanted my side fringe cut back in. It was all going well until the Chinese barber said, ‘I can make your fringe sit better, but it will cost a little more. Would you like?’ I said ‘of course’ as China is humid my side fringe would have a problem sitting. Jess kept miming, ‘No, No, don’t do it. You don’t know what it is!’ but I had already agreed, so he came over with a bottle, put a few drops on my fringe and let the liquid sit for 15 minutes. Jess and I were a little confused. We looked at the bottle and it said ‘PERM.’ Jess was giggling. I almost cried. For the next few months I had a permed fringe with my long straight blonde hair and of course China’s humidity made it frizz. I had no idea what to do I couldn’t just cut my fringe off, so I had to stick it out. I am now at Bond University studying International Relations and Law. Since I loved traveling, I thought International Relations would be exactly what I wanted to do and I am really enjoying the experience. I still didn’t get to do a lot of things in China and I hope to go back there in the future. I will just remember that rooms without window panes are not going to be safe from nature!”

TRAVEL

Thoughts of a China Explorer

I WAS AMAZED HOW THIS COUNTRY CAPTURED MY INTEREST AND OPENED MY EYES TO THINGS I NEVER IMAGINED. By Linda Woelk China is full of surprises! You don’t know what to expect when you walk out of your house in the morning and return to it at night as there are so many corners to peek around and so many cultural differences to experience. I believe that there is no other country like China, which was the reason I wanted to go on this journey and get a taste of it. Spending 3 weeks immersed in the culture of this mysterious country has opened my eyes to its beauty and charm. I initially planned this trip as a volunteer holiday in order to make the world a better place, but it has extended far beyond this. It all started with an inquiry to an organisation (IFRE) about a teaching program at an orphanage, but how quickly did I find myself sitting on a plane

on the way to Xi’an. I was totally oblivious to the whole trip, not knowing what to expect of China, the culture and its people. Having not been provided which much information; I was basically taking a ride into the blue, full of uncertainty. The Chinese/Australian man sitting next to me on the plane did not really help to ease this uncertainty, questioning the legitimacy of the orphanage I was going to (was this really an organisation? Or would I be the one becoming an orphan, captured in China?) and telling me other horror stories about the food conditions on the street. I must admit this did increase my anxiety by probably another 40%. I mean, I had already managed to survive in another country (Australia) for a whole year, but this did worry even an experienced traveller like me. After

all, China is the complete opposite to the West, which is something that I experienced throughout the entire trip. I finally arrived at Xi’an airport, with no clue about Xi’an or who would be picking me up. For some reason, I believed that I would be able to get around with my English, but I was wrong. A lot of the every day workers in Xi’an that I met at the airport, in the shops and restaurants don’t speak any English at all. This was my first lesson learned: Don’t assume everyone speaks English in the world, especially not in Xi’an – and next time learn some basic words in Chinese before the trip! Nevertheless, I managed to get myself around the airport with a lot of pointing and body language and maybe some poor attempts to speak one or two Chinese words. The second lesson learned

from this: Thinking that Chinese will understand you with a few words of Chinese is ridiculous to assume, since there are so many different ways (4 tones) to say each word that most of the time you will get it wrong. I don’t want to know what I must have said to the staff at the airport. Eventually I made it out of the airport and found the driver who was picking me up. When he dropped me off at what would be my home for 3 weeks, my heart sunk to the ground. I thought I was in the wrong neighbourhood or signed up for the wrong holiday. By all means it was not at all to the standard of many Western homes or even the poorest homes in the West. I guess I was being introduced to communism.

However, once I was crawling up the last stairs of the sixth floor, this friendly young Chinese man, called David, opened the door with a smile that made me feel at home. David is the local coordinator for all volunteers and really provided me the real Chinese experience.

One of these things is that the Chinese are sport fanatics and love to socialise whenever they do it. One day I went for a run quite early at around 6.a.m in the morning, only to discover that there were already hundreds of people of every age exercising together. It was incredible to watch.

After I met several other volunteers, one from Israel and a couple from America and Australia, they confirmed that I would love it in Xi’an and would not want to leave. At that stage I was still a bit sceptical about this but I was soon to understand them. China truly was an unforgettable experience and I left with tears in my eyes. I was amazed how this country captured my interest and opened my eyes to things I never imagined.

In the morning and at night from around 6-10pm many Chinese gather at the college’s (university) facilities to walk, run, or sprint on the running track in numerous circles. Then there are groups of people performing Chinese dances, Tai Chi, sword performances or other typical Chinese activities. Every day I came down, there was something new to experience. One time I even joined the large group of Chinese dancers and learned a traditional dance. 27

unique Chinese spices. It is interesting how many dishes are sold as ‘typical Chinese food’ in the West that are unknown to most Chinese people that I met.

Coming from the west, having blonde hair and pale skin definitely made me an attraction at the kindergarten. Most of the time the kids would touch my hair, kiss my skin or give me enduring hugs. It was very easy to be liked and to get to know the kids, since they were so interested.

I guess you can only get the true taste sensation in the country where the food comes from. Probably the best part of my trip to China was the experiences I gained while volunteering in an orphanage for one week and in a kindergarten for two weeks. The orphanage was to my surprise very well equipped and enjoyed regular donations and funds. However, most of the children had either physical disabilities or cleft lips and were abandoned due to these. My Chinese friend was explaining to me that this happens either due to the one child policy in China or due to the parents having no money to care for a child with these problems. Either way, it was very sad to see and deal with.

‘QUESTIONING THE LEGITIMACY OF THE ORPHANAGE I WAS GOING TO, THE CHINESE/ AUSTRALIAN MAN SITTING NEXT TO ME ON THE PLANE DID NOT REALLY HELP TO EASE MY UNCERTAINTY… WAS THIS REALLY AN ORGANISATION? OR WOULD I BE THE ONE BECOMING AN ORPHAN, CAPTURED IN CHINA?’ This is what I love about the Chinese culture; they are very social and welcome everyone to join their activities. It was during one of these walks that I discovered an area with probably the most ping-pong tables I have ever seen in my life. There must have been hundreds and almost every table was occupied, by all generations. One time a Chinese man asked me to challenge him and he beat me by far, smashing the hell out of the ball. Another lesson that I learned: Never challenge the Chinese in ping-pong, they own this sport. The same goes for badminton and basketball as they love to play these and probably wish they could do all three at once. Across the various parks in Xi’an there are several exercising stations that I named ‘the playground for adults’. These stations include fun-looking machines that work out the whole body and many Chinese enjoy that during lunch breaks from work. I saw many workers come down during their break, completely suited up or in their uniforms who all of a sudden

started working out, while talking to their colleague. I guess the Chinese don’t sweat as much or don’t care, because this would be something that people in the West would never do, as it requires special sport clothing. Another fun fact is that every morning the workers of a company stand in front of their business and perform a morning dance or some form of exercise, which can be and is meant to be observed by pedestrians. I was imagining what would happen if a worker in the West would all of a sudden start dancing in front of their company - everyone would believe this person is crazy, but in China this is how they started the day. After volunteering in the kindergarten I further discovered that it is totally acceptable and almost required to have a nap after eating lunch. The Chinese love their sleep and even tried to convince me to join them in their every day nap. It was hard to explain to them that this is something we usually don’t do in the West. I mean maybe my grandparents have a nap after lunch, but young, striving professionals like myself can’t afford to sleep. Taking a look back on the food that I ate and tried, I

However, during my time at the orphanage there was a group of doctors who volunteered to fix at least the cleft lips, which helped these children a lot and can give them a normal life. If these cleft lips don’t get corrected, then the children won’t be able to talk properly and suffer from underdevelopment as too much energy is taken up from these mouth distortions. I enjoyed every minute at the orphanage and it was an incredible feeling to see one of these kids smile every day we were there. Some of these babies I got attached to a lot and I even still miss them now that I am back. The other two weeks of my trip I taught English at a local kindergarten, which was an unforgettable experience as well. Kindergarten in China is a lot different to what I was used to from the West. From an early age Chinese children are pressured to achieve and succeed, which is reflected in their structured daily schedule in the kindergarten. There is a specific time to play (approximately 30 minutes a day), other than that there are classes that are set at a specific time to teach the children Math, Chinese, Art, Music and even English.

However, the education sometimes reminded me a little bit of the military - just in the way the teacher gains their attention and orders them to behave. The teacher would say “listen to me,” and the children would instantly answer with the words “listen to you,” and sit up straight. Every day the children would sleep after lunch in their miniature beds, which they did straight away obediently and it was adorable to watch. Experiencing a different approach to education made me reconsider the way that children behave in kindergartens in the West and I do believe now that both approaches - the total freedom and playful nature of the West and the disciplined and achievement-oriented nature of the Chinese culture both have their advantages and disadvantages and would produce the perfect education model if combined.

I was surprised how many of the children could already read and write, spell and even count to 100 in English, while I was just able to write and spell my name in kindergarten. The English lessons usually composed of a new letter and an associated word that is learned together. Then they will learn an appropriate song that incorporates the new words and also practice everyday conversations. It is incredible what some of the children would ask me and with many I could hold a basic conversation. One of the most memorable experiences was when one of the girls asked me in her cute little voice, “Can I have your phone number,” after asking what my name was and how I was doing. It is these moments that made me fall in love with China and its people. There is no way not to love these children.

My 3 weeks are now over! I have challenged my existing clichés about China and its people, I have gained an understanding for cultural differences and I have discovered Xi’an’s secret corners and hidden treasures. I have not only advanced the English of many Chinese kids and helped care for orphans, but what will always stay in my memory is that I have housed, ate and lived like a real Chinese. I advise everyone to get out of their comfort zone and discover the world, as it has too many hidden treasures and secrets that can’t be left undiscovered. There are many organisations all around the world that offer incredible volunteer experiences and one of them is just a couple of kilometres away: Global Volunteer & Travel (globalvolunteerandtravel.com.au).

must admit that the only thing that would keep me from living in China for a while is the food. Waking up in the morning to a bowl of hot noodles and chicken with veggies is not something that every Westerner looks forward to. There are only two things that I could always eat for breakfast in China, the special bean milk as I called it, served with sweet pastry and a form of spicy egg crepe. Unfortunately, lunch and dinner serves similar dishes, such as noodles with tofu, chicken or beef or rice with the same. After the 3 weeks I was really missing a proper steak or cheese or any other form of protein. However, there are certain things that no tourist can miss trying in China, which are unique to the country. My favourites were dumplings of any type (even the vegetarian ones were delicious) and ‘bao zi’, which is quite similar to dumplings but even nicer, and hot pot. Hot pot is a type of dining, where you have a small stove integrated in the table, placed in front of each person. The food that is ordered is raw and has to be cooked in each pot on the stove. This is not only very fun to mix together, but also provides for different tastes and individual mixes. Served with this is a sauce that is also mixed together by each person from several

TRAVEL By Laura Fernandez “In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun.” - Mary Poppins. What better place to find this than the happiest place on earth, Walt Disney World? By undertaking the Walt Disney World College Program, students from around the world have the opportunity to create magic for guests of all ages every single day. Program participants can choose a role in operations, lodging, food and beverage, merchandise, recreation or entertainment.

IN EVERY JOB THAT MUST BE DONE THERE IS AN ELEMENT OF FUN. - MARY POPPINS

With internships spanning from three months to a year, students have the chance to continue their education abroad through Disney’s course offerings. Although these classes are not compulsory, they can enhance the experience as they cover a wide range of study areas and provide great networking opportunities. Cast members work at one of the four theme parks (Magic Kingdom, Animal Kingdom, Hollywood Studios or Epcot), in the Downtown Disney area, or in the nearby resorts. In-depth training is provided for up to three people at a time, creating a strong and focused learning environment where life skills are developed. When I found out that I was going to be placed in Tomorrowland attractions in Magic Kingdom, I had my mind set on Space Mountain (a high speed, indoor, in the dark roller coaster) and was ultimately disappointed when I ended up in the Stitch complex. I soon discovered that no matter how popular (or unpopular in Stitch’s case) the ride was, it didn’t alter my ability to create unforgettable memories for guests and myself. With an amazing cohort of co-workers and a keen determination to make the most of every situation, even the dreariest of jobs can be made fun. The apartment complexes designated to college program participants ensure a comfortable, fun and secure home environment, with up to six girls or boys living in each apartment.

The well kept apartments complete with pools and gymnasiums resemble Barbie houses and the buses provided exclusively for cast members allow for easy travel between the complexes, parks and of course, Walmart. The complexes and buses are great opportunities to meet people from all over the world, and there is no shortage of nationalities. The transition between a full time university schedule and a full time work schedule has been interesting, with the constant physical energy under a scorching Florida sun taking its toll on my body. During the first few weeks of intense personal training, I found that my days consisted purely of sleeping, eating and working. Despite the heavy workload, the nature of the job makes it a pleasurable experience where no two days are the same. The slow tourist season gave me the opportunity to take more days off here and there, helping me tend to my undying travel bug. While I will leave the United States with even lighter pockets than I entered it with, these few months of working at the happiest place on Earth have equipped me with better customer service skills than I could ever hope to attain anywhere else, friends from around the world and memories to last a lifetime. Disney has been such an integral part of so many lives and it is heartwarming to find that I still blush as I stand beside Belle in her gorgeous yellow gown and am brought to tears by the Lion King. I am extremely fortunate and grateful that my spare time is spent playing in the parks, fulfilling my mission of riding every ride and watching every show that Disney has to offer. The best part of my job is the knowledge that I am part of the magic that helps to make the guests’ visits as unforgettable as they are.

PHOTOGRAPHY

Photography By Ansha Krishnan

PHOTOGRAPHY Photography By Jamie Lennox

CREATIVE

By Ansha Krishnan We pull into the car park of a little run-down pie shed with paint chipped lettering, ‘Pie-eria’. A tall, sausage figure steps out of the car to go order, followed by the rest of us. Thomas Whiting is about 18. After short discussion with his parents and younger brother, he looks at the girl behind the counter, “Can we please get two meat pies with peas, one pie with potato and a chunky meat pie?” He stares at the menu awkwardly, and looks back at me, unsure. He finally turns to me with beady eyes and says, “There’s only a veggie pie or spinach and feta one.” Even his voice was meaty, like a meatpacker’s at a local butcher. “Umm, I’ll have the spinach and feta.” He glances at the girl and gives my order. She replies, “We don’t have any left, sorry.” I sat down on the wooden paint chipped bench alongside Mrs. Whiting. She was nothing I’d ever seen before, a walking uncooked stork. She has rawboned legs and a long body but a neck like a turkey’s, soft and saggy. She bites into her pea meat pie, “These have beautiful crisp pastries.” Her voice is withered and rusty. I glance up at Mr. Whiting as he scoffs down the round pastry, “This is the best pie and coke combination I’ve ever had,” I nod in agreement. My food arrives. I take a bite of the poor-quality pastry to taste an ounce of flavour, but the pungent smell of processed meat lingers in the air. The manufactured vegetables slip down my throat, unsatisfying and unappreciated. I watch Thomas and his little brother, John, from across the table greedily devour the processed cow in their packaged pastry, two cannibals eating raw meat. I scan the area. Across the highway is an orange and black sign with the words ‘Schlute’s Meat Tavern’. I am in beef country.

Mr. Whiting begins to show me around the farm. “Walk this way,” I follow him through the thick greenery, like a farm animal following the herd. He shows me his apple tree, strawberries, blood oranges and pears. “Here,” he hands me some strawberries and an apple he plucks from the tree. The freshness of the fruit fills my nostrils. “Stick those in your face, don’t share those with anybody,” He looks at me with deep blue eyes, his smile glimmers in the sunlight. I walk up the uneven square pieces of wood that lead to the farmhouse. The grey sheets of iron mimic the cloudy sky. I sit down on a chair on the farmhouse verandah.

I sip my cup of tea; the flavoured water seems tasteless and monotonous. “Once, when the boys were little, they were up at the end paddock playing hide and seek,” she says. “They were hiding in this big patch of grass in the middle, and I wasn’t supposed to see them, then Gravox goes right up to them and moos, pointing them out.” She holds a distant gaze with a slight smile on her elderly face. “But then, he got in trouble because he would never go into the yard when he was supposed to, so my husband said, ‘Right that’s it, you’re going on the next truck,’ ” she snaps out of her gaze and sniggers, “Goodbye Gravox.” I sip the cloudy brown liquid. It tastes bitter and stale. “Gravox always came into the farm to eat the grain whenever the others weren’t around,” a warm glow appears on her withered face. “So when the truck picked up Gravox and went down the road, he was looking back at us the whole way.” Her face began to change, blank and desolate. I peer out the window as Thomas’ sausage body and rake like fingers mow the lawn. Thomas stops and comes inside, “Ready to go see the cows?” Mrs. Whiting nods and her saggy neck nods too. “Dad and John are meeting us there,” he says.

I STOP AND LOOK AROUND AT THE INFINITE GREEN ACRES THAT GO ON AND ON, AND WATCH THE COWS EAT. I PAT ONE. ITS EYES MEET MY GAZE. THEY ARE LIKE TWO DARK STONES, CALM AND SMOOTH. THERE IS NO SIGN OF PROCESSED MEAT OR METAL MACHINERY HERE. NO SIGN OF PAIN OR TRAUMA. NO SMELL OF SLAUGHTER AND TORTURE.

We hurry back to the car for the long journey ahead, Mrs. Whiting in the front, Mr. Whiting at the wheel and Thomas, John and I in the back. “Baby one!” Mr. Whiting’s voice is playful, a child at heart. “You have to spot the baby cow, then you’ll get a chocolate.” He has big farmer ears, a receding hairline that looks like damp shrubbery and a stomach like a piece of cold meat wrapped in plastic. His complexion is raw and fleshy. We drive past acres of lush greenery dotted with brown and cream cows. “Baby one!” Mr. Whiting gawks. The ride starts to become bumpy, like a turbulent tractor harvesting fresh grain. Amidst the uneven journey, Mrs. Whiting reads and recites French vocabulary like a scratched record in her own world, “J’habite, J’habite, J’habite”. I live.

We pull into a narrow driveway, enveloped in rich greenery. In front of the car a metal fence slices through the green pastures. Just past the metal fence is a grotesque wooden structure that looks like something from a horror movie, stained old wood amidst the tall, green grass, a murderer’s platform. “What’s that?” “That’s the cattle ramp,” Mrs. Whiting says. “That’s where they get onto the truck,” Thomas’ voice rings through my ears.

Mr. Whiting’s ears prop up high above his receding hairline, “You force them up the ramp and the truck backs up to it. You put their necks there to put identification tags called NLIS, National Livestock Identification System, and they go to the abattoir,” and in that instance, his innocence was gone.

Drifting in and out, in and out. I awake to the sound of a loud bark. A chair moves next to me. It sounds fierce and rusty, like a canine with asthma. I feel drugged, groggy, subdued in a sleep- drunk stupor. The fresh autumn air burns my nostrils as I inhale. It is intoxicating. My eyes widen as I become aware of my surroundings. The greyish white undertones contrast the lush green pastures like a Monet painting. Peaceful. Timeless. I go inside the farmhouse to pour myself some tea and sit across from Mrs. Whiting. Her bony legs are sprawled out on the sofa, still reading her French book. She puts her book aside and tells me about the cattle. Her rusty voice begins to creak. “They’ve all had names, and all the different personalities of the cows are quite interesting,” her voice seems kind and grandmotherly. She went on. “In the original herd, my husband and the boys named him. He was called Gravox, you know, Gravox is the beef gravy mixture. He was a real character.”

We follow Thomas to a run-down Suzuki. Mrs. Whiting sits in the front and I climb over the large dusty tires. We start to move, juddering along the uneven pastures. We come to a halt. And from a distance six or seven brown cows graze in the grass. We climb out of the car. “That one looks really young,” I point. “Yeah, he’s one of the baby ones,” Mrs. Whiting replies. I stop and look around at the infinite green acres that go on and on, and watch the cows eat. I pat one. Its eyes meet my gaze. They are like two dark stones, calm and smooth. There is no sign of processed meat or metal machinery here. No sign of pain or trauma. No smell of slaughter and torture. Only existence. J’habite. We return to the farmhouse in the run-down Suzuki, juddering through the thick grass. I rest my head against the dust-covered seat and almost drift to sleep.

We go inside the farmhouse and Mrs. Whiting hands me a freshly cut apple plucked from the tree. She tilts her head with a warm smile, “Here”. Her eyes are kind and maternal. I bite into the cool apple and the red sweetness breaks open in my mouth. It even smells red. I stand on the verandah and gaze at the view, a Narnia in the summertime—acres of rich greenery and dark blue mountainous peaks. I take another bite. The rush of sugary juice fills my mouth as the scenery captivates me. But the stained wood of the cattle ramp glares at me. And I cannot help but glare back.

CREATIVE By Isabelle Ulliana She sits in the blue leather chair staring out to the courtyard, her hand hanging down beside her, casually stroking a tan and white life-sized toy dog. Pale yellow light streams into the dank room. As I step over the threshold, my shoes brush along the imitation Venetian carpet and she turns around to look at me. I can see my toothy smile reflected back at me in her eyes. Her wearied, brown circles swirl with confusion. “Hello,” she says, her hand firmly on the neck of the toy dog to hold it back from jumping up at me. “Hi Nonna,” I say. Silence. “It’s me, Isabelle.” For a brief moment I think I see a flicker of recognition in her eyes, but the instant passes all too quickly. She merely responds with a second hello and starts to pat the dog again. I kiss her cheek gently. Her skin smells sweet, like honey flavoured tiny teddies. As I breathe her in, I fleetingly sink into childhood memories of feeding ducks and homemade, three-course Italian dinners. We make conversation. Small conversation. Conversation constantly interrupted by her random interjections asking where her husband is. “At the farm,” I lie every time, “He’ll be coming home soon.”But I’m here now, I’m here now with you. In his final hours, my Nonno continually cried for his wife, Vittoria, to hold him. Please hold him. The day he died, my Nonna sat beside him and stared in disbelief at his still body. She took his cold hands in her own and gently stroked them. No response. The entire family stood around her, all 25 of us, silent, shaking and laden with Kleenex aloe vera tissues, kindly provided by the hospital’s intensive care unit. She turned around and begged the question why, into each of our heartbroken, blood shot eyes. We had no answer. Soft, imploring whispers turned into screams of desperation. She pounded her tiny fists on his chest, a child banging a broken toy on the floor trying to make it work again. All the while, she sobbed, “You said you would never leave me.” A few days later I went to visit my Nonna. The large house seemed to ache and moan - a hollow cry. My Nonna leant against the white walls and lamented in harmony. “I’m so sad, but I don’t know why,” she wept as I held her small body in my arms. The dementia, which had steadily been consuming her, did not cease to let its victim grieve.

It merely continued to steal her memories from her slipping grip. I don’t remember how many bottles of Grappa we consumed at the wake but by the end of the night we wallowed in a state of numbness. We longed to forget, not the person we had just farewelled, but that sadness that had consumed us the past week. My Nonna sat in the corner intently watching the sliding glass doors, a lost turtle dove expectantly waiting for her mate to return. In that moment I silently wished that she would forget not only her sadness but also his entire existence. It was possible. She had forgotten so much already. She forgot who I was. Twenty years I had known her and she had loved me, but one day I walked in the door of her house and she looked into my youthful face, the spitting image of her own in her younger years, with a perplexed expression furrowed along her forehead. She slowly forgot the age of her daughters and asked them one by one what they wanted to be when they grew up. The five girls, all over the age of forty, sat there not knowing how to answer the question. Shortly after she forgot their names. She would walk past the large family portrait in the living room and question whoever was with her, “Who are those five pretty girls hanging on my wall?”But she never forgot the love of her life. To her, her husband was not lying beneath the dirt covered in flowers and long forgotten kisses; he was with her every moment of every day, as he always had been. They had met when they were merely children, no older than 15. She was the most beautiful girl in the small mountain village and he was a love-struck teenage boy with handsome, determined brown eyes. She moved to France and he ventured to Australia. For years they wrote love letters to each other, the ink seeping with their desire to be together one day. With a final farewell to her family, she packed all her belongings in a single chest, and took the long voyage by boat to the land down under. The journey was filled with endless seasickness. She spent so much time being nursed back to health that a young, blue-eyed doctor fell in love with her and before the trip was over he had asked for her hand in marriage.

But her love was expectantly waiting on the shores of Tasmania and her heart yearned only for his handsome brown eyes. And so he built half the Gold Coast with a hammer and nails and she built a family with tenderness and care. Five daughters, seven bright eyed grandchildren and all the while their hands remained firmly intertwined in one another’s, the beautiful girl and the love-struck teenage boy. When I watched her at the funeral and made my wish I had truly thought it was possible for her to forget. Even I, with a perfect memory, had managed to allow past memories to dissolve away into the deep closets of my mind, securely locked with a key I had purposely misplaced. But there was no obstacle, not even a disease as cruel as dementia that could break the bond between her and her love. She still remembered what time he came home every night, and what he would like for dinner. Somewhere amidst the confusion in her brain she held strong to the words he had once written on the back of a black and white photograph of himself, ‘My love, I will never leave you.’ True to his word, she never did. She comes back with a glass of water in her hand and I thank her. Smiling kindly she remarks how polite I am, so nice to have a young girl come and visit her. “I haven’t had anyone come to visit me in a long time,” she says as she sits back down and once again begins to pat the lifeless toy dog with a tenderness normally reserved for the gentle stroking of a baby’s soft skin. I decide not to remind her that before I was there my Aunty had just left, and in the morning my mother had taken her out for breakfast. I kiss her cheeks before I leave, telling her I have to go home and cook dinner. She makes no attempt to keep me with her. When I am gone it will be as if I had never come. I walk slowly towards the door, past a photo of myself on her bedside table. I stop on the threshold and look back at her. She turns to the toy dog and says smiling, “Well we must get dinner ready, Sergio will be home from work soon, it’s almost eight o’clock.”

TO HER, HER HUSBAND WAS NOT LYING BENEATH THE DIRT COVERED IN FLOWERS AND LONG FORGOTTEN KISSES; HE WAS WITH HER EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY DAY, AS HE ALWAYS HAD BEEN.

CREATIVE

By Isabel Dickson Trekking through yet another cobble stoned street, Emily thought bitterly how even the erotic, sweet, non-Vermont air of Rome smelt like him. Keeping her head down, she attempted to focus on the varied sizes and dull colours of the bricks, trying not to think how the hot Italian sun on the back of her neck felt like his hand’s stinging caresses. Turning right into a long street littered with smoke-filled cafes and artistic boutiques, the sadmouthed woman allowed herself to glance at the locals sipping their Limoncello with ease, noticing how their laughing eyes fell upon the unknowing tourists being dragged into restaurants by persuasive, ever smiling employees.

stitching the wounds of time

Even after three years of living in this city, the lively chatter and buzz of the thick, Italian atmosphere failed to penetrate her lonely, broken aura. How she yearned to have the energy and motivation of one of those arguing hagglers; enjoy a conversation with a charismatic individual, and allow, just once, a booming laugh to escape - Emily’s head snapped up, eyes searching frantically the faces of the busy tourists pushing past her; looking for (but praying desperately not to find) the source of that laughter which once had overwhelming control over her. Not here, not here, please, God, no, not here... Her eyes found him. He was here. Without thinking; in a daze of terror, she subconsciously pushed through the heavy doors of the closest building and slammed them shut before he could see her. Sliding down the chipped paint panelling, Emily pulled her legs to her chest, drawing on every ounce of self control to prevent the cries of pain from escaping... Screaming.

Emily’s head slowly uncoiled from beneath her arms. Blinking in the darkness of the room, she grasped the door handle to pull herself up, and out of instinct began feeling along the wall for a light switch. Her voice cracked like a whip in the surprisingly silent, deserted room, “Hello?” Fingers finally finding the small button that would restore her vision; light enveloped the room. Emily gasped. Reels of fabrics in rainbows of colours draped from the walls, tumbling elegantly like waterfalls onto the wooden floorboards. It was a medium sized room, with a solitary window on the opposite side that allowed fresh air to seep in through the shutters. A large table stood in the centre with an aged sewing machine seated on top. Emily felt her feet moving towards the piece of furniture, as though it had lassoed her around the waist and was now gently tugging. Coming to a soft halt, her dull, sapphire eyes took in the smoothness of the table, an unfamiliar sense of opportunity steaming off it. Unsettled by the foreign, optimistic feeling, she turned to leave. Suddenly, the tiniest flicker of movement from the table forced her to halt her departure. A faded pink note pinned underneath the sewing machine was fluttering in the breezeless room. Intrigued, Emily freed the parchment and began to read: Do not take this room for granted. You have not found it by chance. Good luck.

And, as though she had known all along what she was supposed to do, Emily walked to the left wall, took down two heavy rolls of bright fabric, carried them back to the table, and began to sew.

“Well, Emily, I must admit I am very impressed with the collection of clothing you have shown me, very impressed indeed,” beamed the twinkle-eyed man seated opposite the glowing brunette. She flashed a brilliant smile in return. “What inspired your designs? I mean, each item must have a story – they appear to be screaming with emotion!” he chuckled, once again looking over the assorted clothing laid upon his expensive desk. “It all began with a promise, really,” Emily began with a mixed Italian and American accent, “a promise to myself. You see, there was a man-” The businessman tittered knowingly. “-who had broken me in every way a person could be broken.” She paused, her beautiful eyes becoming unfocused. “I went to Italy, as far away from him as possible, in the hope that I would be able to recover. Long story short, I came across this magnificent, magical room filled with an assortment of fabrics and a sewing machine, and promised myself that I would sew an item of clothing for each obscene memory.” Nodding appreciatively, he exclaimed, “You must have been there for quite some time?” Emily let loose an alluring peal of laughter. “I thought I would never get out! I suppose, looking back, the hard work was like therapy for me. I enjoyed perfecting each item; each memory.” “And perfect they are! Emily, I would be honoured to give you the opportunity to design your own clothing line for the business. Of course, the items you have already made are more than sufficient, only they will need to be made in pink to match next season’s ‘in’ colour - of course, you are in charge; you will call the shots, not me!” he laughed nervously, clearly eager to impress the confident woman dressed in the bold pantsuit before him. “What do you say?” The man peered at her eagerly. At the mention of the colour pink, an image of the poisonous, pink dress flashed before Emily’s eyes. However, this time, she did not tremble, did not ache with hurt, and did not deem it anything more than simply, a dress. Looking the hopeful man directly in the eyes, Emily replied with a grin, “Sir, I can handle any colour you request.”

Outside America’s leading fashion company, a woman climbed onto a motorbike, and with independence, exhilaration and buoyancy, she roared away.

Somewhere in Rome, in a long street populated with cafes and restaurants, a door hides a room filled with fabrics and an old sewing machine. More importantly, it holds a rose pink note that reads as follows: I have sewn my life back together. I hope you can too. Good luck.

41 14

CREATIVE

WORDS BY ANSHA KRISHNAN AND KYLE MANNING

BEAUTY Through the people surrounding her, she finds happiness Silently watching families gather, she yearns for that same love Eyes filled with loss- She hopes Silently watching through her agony, she smiles Her gaze like windows of innocence, I am drawn closer.

AN INSTITUTION Faces mimicking bad memories disillusioned by trauma, they wait. sorrow deepening the depths of their being eyes filled with hope, they watch in silence. Praying for a miracle, an ounce of life An empty chair. People coming and going life and death- a shared entity.

ECHIDNA BUTTERFLIES

Shift the blame back and forth like a crooked see-saw. Who can weigh the other down? Off the ground. Launching like a rocketship – always intending to burn out.

Beauty flows through your hair like blood through veins, water down drains. Droplets hang on tender threads. On the edge. Hesitant to fall.

The fault lies hidden in the fault line. Tectonic plates, we accuse our fates of being too significant. They clash – crash – and we cannot help but to follow them like traffic.

Your smile falls. When left alone, defences crumble. Fumbling with the pain. You hide away behind the laughter. Shaking from the strength it takes to keep the thoughts at bay.

Raw passion, brutal longing allowed existence only in the desperate darkened confines of my mind. The sky is ours for taking. We steal beauty from the sun. But, like butterflies, we land and slowly die.

Anchored to ideals of suffering stoically. I feel the risk of losing you is worth the spikes your smiles put me through.

CREATIVE By James Hooper

By Saxon Cameron

By Danielle Bailey

By Luke Agnew

“Almost without a doubt, I will at some stage in the game encounter an enemy or boss that is too difficult for my current level. And almost every time, said boss is located at one of those ‘no-going-back’ and ‘you-can-forgetabout-going-forward’ points in the game. Seriously, it’s the story of my life…” – James Hooper.

Gam-er [gey-mer] –noun, a person who plays games. A definition from Dictionary.com

I have never considered myself as much of a gamer, or a player of anything really. As a child, I hated sports (one of my first memories of playing soccer involved taking a nap in center field while the other children tried desperately not to run over me) and loathed the aptly named ‘bored’ games. I suppose I’m one of those people who dislike the things that they don’t do well in. I’m a sore loser and have little patience for something that I view as a waste of time. Given the choice, I’d prefer to draw, write or create something tangible.

As I will be turning forty this year, this report is a personal reflection of over 30 years of gaming history, starting in the late 1970’s with Pong, continuing through with Atari, Sega, Playstation 1, Playstation 2, Xbox 360, and finally culminating with the Playstation 3.

As a kid, I never really enjoyed playing sports. All in all, it was a confidence thing. I admit it; I was a shy kid. I used to despise any ‘game’ that involved ‘movement’ or ‘physical activity’ – aspiring to get out of it where I could. Yet somehow, I found refuge in playing video games. I latched onto the PlayStation when it was initially released and can remember playing Crash Bandicoot – and what a challenge it was! I still get nightmares of Papu Papu… taking all my lives. Along the way, I developed an interest for role-playing games, action/adventure games, platformers and puzzlers. Generally opting to avoid electronic-sports, multiplayers and FPS. The one component of games culture that probably meant most to me was playing games with my family – or at the very least, have them watch me play. Including card games like Poker and Canasta (a game I still play with my family), and board games like Monopoly and Scrabble. One game that stands out in my mind is Atmosfear, a DVD board game. One of my more cherished memories was playing The Legend of Dragoon (a four-disc turn based, RPG for the Playstation) with my grandfather. Back then, we used to play it together for hours – it took us a few years to actually finish the game (one of the first games I actually finished – but not without its fair share of under-levelled moments). I really enjoyed the story (probably more the mythology and universe/world) of the game, something that I would find a passion for in plenty of games that I would play shortly after. Just before the Y2K bug that really wouldn’t eventuate, I was given a Gameboy COLOR from my parents for my birthday. Now that was an experience: playing a game and being able to go anywhere – all at the same time! I had a few games I loved playing, with some titles momentarily lost in my mind. Sure, Pokémon was pretty high up on that list, with Pokémon Yellow getting the ball rolling. Golden Sun (Gameboy Advanced/SP) and Final Fantasy X (PS2) were two more games which I absolutely adored – the graphics and (once again, mythology) of the fictional world made me love the game – thankfully, not so much for the story. That was to say, until I got to that all familiar point of being significantly under-levelled. Over the years I’ve collected quite a few consoles (carefully avoiding the Xbox): PlayStation 2 and 3, DS and 3DS, Wii (which really was more of a speed-bump than a memory) – and even picked up games for the PC (Age of Empires and the Rollercoaster Tycoon Series to name a few) and of course numerous apps and games for mobile devices (not overlooking Angry Birds, right?). University life gave me a reason to want to multiplay/social-play with games like Minecraft. Games changed for me with the PS3 – Skyrim, Deus Ex:HR and Batman (Arkham Asylum/City) are some of the games I love to play. But without a doubt, the Assassins Creed series is a standout for me. So what type of gamer am I? I’m the type of gamer that doesn’t mind if I don’t collect everything in a level as long as I had fun. I am a world-admirer, ‘experience-enthusiast’ and ‘speed-level-completer’ (which might explain something?). But more specifically, I am (where possible) a non-competitive, avid, story/adventure/world-loving, repeat under-leveller (and proud of it)! And look where that shy kid is now? I am fortunate enough to be teaching what I love (multimedia and games) at Bond University. I think I can safely say... “Achievement unlocked”.

In this reflection, I will be writing about the games that have had the most influence upon me and what I believe to have had the most significant roles in shaping the type of gamer I am today. My gaming life began in 1998, when my parents invested in our first game console, the Nintendo 64. Consequently, the first digital game I ever played was MarioKart 64 and although it took me several years from the age of five to develop the coordination to play through the game in its entirety, MarioKart 64 was and remains a replayable classic – an appropriate introduction into the world of gaming. Despite my initial enthusiasm, it was not until three years later that I started to become more committed to game titles, endeavouring to finish the game as comprehensively as they allowed. However, I only truly became a gamer when I played through Zelda: Ocarina of Time successfully for the first time. This game was by far the greatest influence in my early gaming life. To me, Zelda is the greatest game title created, and I have since replayed it upwards of five times. It was not long after this I acquired the Gameboy Color, which embedded the game culture within me; at the age of ten, having your own personal console device was a game-changer. I have vivid memories of enthusiastically completing household chores in promise of the then-contemporary Zelda titles such as Oracle of Time and Oracle of Seasons. After truly becoming engulfed in the concept of digital games, my experiences quickly broadened. I soon upgraded my Gameboy to the Advance SP – almost solely because of its backlit screen, and progressed shortly after to the original Xbox console. It was here I found my introduction to dual-analogue controllers, and as a very young teenager at the time, it took only a few sessions for me to take to the concept of FPS games; the campaign of the original Halo remains one of my favourite moments in games. It was essentially from that moment onwards that FPS games became my primary gaming genre; with this, I remained almost exclusive to the Halo franchise. The other main title for me on Xbox was Morrowwind. I spent hundred of hours enthralled in the sheer scale of freedom the game gives you – in fact, this was the first game I played where my parents voiced concern about the amount of my gaming, a true testament to the quality of the game in my eyes. I toned down my gaming as I reached my final two years of high school. My Xbox 360 was an unfortunate three-time sufferer of the ‘red-ring-of-death’ and I had neither the motivation nor funds to get it serviced yet again. My studies were never sacrificed for gaming, but I was able to find a balance between casual and more hardcore gaming with the aid of my iPhone/iPod Touch. I am currently making a late entrance into the unwelcoming world of DotA – although I tend to still lean towards the convenience of mobile gaming. I have long been a console gamer. In this sense, I lack appreciation for PC games as I personally prefer the dual-analogue stick method of gaming. I have had weeks of sleepless nights playing Halo online, but I have also missed out on many contemporary titles in recent years and failed to put serious time into a single title for a long period of time. I like to think of myself as an Adventure gamer – these are the titles that I receive the most enjoyment and satisfaction from. However, the FPS genre is more than just social for me as I become much more competitive, and in a sense that makes this genre my dominant one. With casual games in the mix, it makes it very hard to refine myself to a single gamer classification. It’s definitely not uncommon to have multiple preferences!

It might sound like I am a complete bore and one might wonder what I am even doing in a computer games degree at all. Luckily, I can say my dislike of fun did not extend to computer games. I was and still am terrible at playing them and can rarely get beyond a first level without some kind of help. However, I got around this problem as a kid thanks to my younger brother, who was a borderline gaming addict as a child. I used to love watching him play and would often buy games for myself and make him beat the levels for me, being quite content to just sit back and watch in the same way I would watch my favourite cartoons. The first game I can remember playing is Myst. My parents bought it for me when it first came out (I was six) and of course I had no idea what to do with it. I didn’t care though, it was just fun to wander around and take in the sights as a virtual tourist, which is my gaming style still to this day. Once my brother was old enough to start pestering my parents for things, we got a Nintendo Entertainment System. I also had a Gameboy of my own which I never gave a lot of time, I just wasn’t that interested in games without colourful graphics. After that came the Super Nintendo and the only three games I have ever successfully completed by myself, Donkey Kong Country One, Two and Three. I loved everything about these games, the graphics, the sound and the rhythm of playing them. The Super Nintendo received a lot of attention from me as a teenager as by this time my brother had a Nintendo 64 and I was worthy enough to be given his old console. I have many great memories of sitting in friends’ bedrooms playing games and doing other questionable teenage-type activities. As I grew up, other things took priority, though socially I would still watch them being played on occasion. I play a few iPhone games now, mainly for research but it’s nothing compared to the amount of time I’d spend on games when I was younger. I have never considered myself much of a gamer but I am definitely a fan of pop culture, which includes games. My love of art (I have been a graphic designer and illustrator for the last 5 years) has brought me full circle back to gaming and I can think of nothing better than to make a living creating virtual environments like the ones I loved to watch as a kid. I do feel a bit self-conscious sometimes that perhaps I am entering a world which I know nothing about but I’m hoping that my lack of gaming knowledge will actually be of benefit and help me bring something new and exciting (at least visually) to the art form.

Gaming has been a big part of my life and who I am. As video games have become more complex, I have found that it has changed the type of gamer I have evolved into over the years. As a child I still remember getting my first video game console, Pong. Before this we played board games such as Monopoly and Snakes and Ladders. Even though Pong was extremely basic compared to today’s video games, at the time it was the latest technology and we thought it was fantastic. Since then I have owned and played the many varying consoles from Atari to PS3. In the early days we did not have many games to choose from, so there were not the distinctive categories of gamers that there are today. Now there is such a diverse range of game genres, such as first person shooters and role playing games, that many gamers identify themselves as a particular type of gamer depending on their personal preferences. In my early days of gaming I would play just about any genre of game, from Pac Man to Space Invaders, racing games to adventure games, sports games to action games. I always played on consoles, as personal home computers were not yet invented. Even today I rarely play on PCs, preferring console titles and a large 44 inch plasma television. As games started to become more immersive, particularly with the PS1, I enjoyed playing adventure games. I recall many hours spent exploring with Lara Croft in Tomb Raider. Action games such as Siphon Filter was another favourite, and I also enjoyed real time strategy games such as Command and Conquer. Today the main genre of games that I play is First Person Shooters, my favourite being Battlefield: Bad Company 2 on the PS3. I usually play online, and enjoy teaming up with friends that I have met online. When the internet was in its early days, and earlier consoles did not have internet capabilities, I usually played alone or with friends on the same console. Online gaming communities did not exist. When the internet did start to take off we only had dial up connection, which made online gaming very slow and difficult. With the advent of the Wii and more recently the PlayStation Move and the Xbox Kinect, and also the proliferation of games on mobile devices, we now have the casual gamer. The casual gamer usually plays all different types of games and can fit into any genre, but they lack the commitment to master more complex games. This is opposed to hardcore gamers, who devote most of their spare time playing video games. Gamers usually fall into one of these categories, as shown in the 2005 Journal of Targeting, Measurement and Analysis for Marketing, “the types of gamers recognised by those in the games industry are commonly referred to as ‘hardcore’ or ‘casual’, rarely as ‘young’ or ‘old’, ‘affluent’ or ‘poor’”. I would definitely say that I fall into the hardcore category. I never imagined that video games would become as popular as they have, and if someone told me that I would one day be at university studying and learning how to make video games I would not have believed them. And people getting paid to play video games, such as professional gamers, was something that people joked about. How times have changed.

The reality is, everyone is just about every type of gamer at some point or another.

By Karissa Straughen

Titles such as ‘Celebrity boob jobs, the ones that worked and the ones that didn’t’ splash across the margins of our magazines. Is the exposure of this issue causing young women to want boob jobs? Or, asks Karissa Straughen, is it something else? In the room walks Amy Knight, no longer in loose clothing, but in a fitting top and a flower printed skirt. She never looks down and doesn’t shy away as she looks for me. The once timid girl seems strong, independent and lively. What has happened to make such a drastic change? Amy Knight had breast surgery in January, or in colloquial terms a “boob job.” She is just 18 and at such a young age I was curious whether it was another teen susceptible to advertising and peer pressure or whether it was for another reason. You are probably reading this and wondering, where did she get the money? What did her parents think? Why did she do it? You also may have the answers to these questions, but don’t be too quick to come to a generic answer, I did before talking to Amy and I was most definitely wrong. “Since I was a very young age, I had always been joking ‘oh when I get my boob job,’ it became a reality when I was 17 and my mum sat me down and told me that if it was what I wanted, then she would help me,” Amy says. “My mum was also flat chested when she was younger, so she really understood why I wanted bigger breasts and how I felt not being able to fill out clothes like all my friends around me.” A 2007 report by Queensland Health outlined the growing fears that there may be an increasing number of young girls wanting cosmetic surgery. It also stated that out of 4,000 girls surveyed (aged 11 – 18), 1,000 said they would get plastic surgery and 80 already had plastic surgery. The report also stated, “during the last few years a number of media articles have said that doctors are reporting an increase in adolescent patients enquiring about and demanding cosmetic surgery, particularly rhinoplasty, liposuction and breast enhancement. The media have explained the trend for cosmetic surgery as being caused by young people’s obsession with celebrities, aggressive marketing by cosmetic clinics and some doctors, and the promotion of having the perfect body (2007).”

HEALTH AND BEAUTY

A 2007 REPORT BY QUEENSLAND HEALTH OUTLINED THE GROWING FEARS THAT THERE MAY BE AN INCREASING NUMBER OF YOUNG GIRLS WANTING COSMETIC SURGERY.

We read this and think yes, of course it’s the media and the chase of the perfect body, but have we ever considered the feelings of these young women? “It’s not like I have been looking at all the celebrities and thinking ‘I want a boob job,’ I just always felt that without breasts I wasn’t a woman,” explains Amy. “I told my doctor that I didn’t feel important, that I was always bottom heavy and there was nothing on top, so it’s not like I wanted huge breasts but I just wanted my body to look natural. I don’t think I was even an A cup and now I am a C, I have gone up from a size 10 dress to a 14. I can’t fit into all my old dresses, but I can now fit into dresses I would never wear before and it makes me feel happy about myself.” For her 18th birthday, Amy’s parents went halves with her in getting a breast enhancement, while she saved up the over half working as a baker. She had to have two operations, the first to correct her nipple alignment so that on the second operation, the silicon implants would sit and look natural. The total cost of the procedures was just under $12,000. “My recovery after my surgery wasn’t as painful as I thought,” Amy explains. “The most annoying thing was sleeping on my back for the first week and now all I have to do is not wear any wire bras for the first four months so the shape of my breasts heals naturally.” Dr Meredith Jones from the University of Sydney said that she interviewed a number of women about why they were getting cosmetic surgery, as reported by Daniel Emerson 2008 in The Age. "Most of them weren't doing it to look more beautiful," she explains. "One woman who was already really beautiful told me she was getting breast implants because all her life she had felt 'deformed' with small breasts.” Alexandra* a 19-year-old currently studying Biomedical Science at Bond University, who wants to do medicine in the future, had breast surgery for health reasons in January this year. Already well-endowed Alexandra stunned me when she said she had breast surgery, it wasn’t until I dug a little deeper did I realise that having naturally large breasts was not always the best thing. “Since I was about 12-years-old, I had these large breasts, size DD,” she says. “I was always so selfconscious, they hung down and were shapeless and it always stopped me at school with sport and athletics. When I got older, I was so uncomfortable in front of my partner and I just wasn’t happy.”

For women like Alexandra, bigger breasts are a health concern, although she loves the size and feels lucky to have them they were causing her extreme back pain and they didn’t sit naturally. “I went to not get a reduction but to have a lift,” she explains. “I told my doctor that I wanted them to be the same size, but without the pain. It was done through cutting off the excess breast tissue, lifting my breasts and then putting in implants so that they sat naturally at my original size. I now no longer have any back pain and I am a lot more comfortable at the beach and in front of people, I no longer want to hide them away.” Alexandra’s operation cost $13,000 which she paid for from her savings. She is continuing her study and looks to get into medicine next year. With the medical advances we have today women have the availability to not put their faith in padded bras, but to have the option to have surgery. Phil Pearson, 86, had a breast reduction at age 70 in Queensland. “Throughout my whole life I was flat chested, but after my 3rd child, I had a hormone change and my breasts grew so much I couldn’t even find a bra to fit me,” she says. “I had surgery to reduce my breasts because they were causing me so much pain and because it was due to a health reason my private medical fund covered it and in the end I only had to pay $8 for the surgery. It was the best thing I ever did.” Phil explained how small breasts back when she was in her 20’s were a real concern for women and back then they didn’t have the medical opportunity to have breast surgery. “I remember going to a dance one day and most girls were not shy in using falsies to pump up their breasts,” she says. “Some girls didn’t have access to the rubber falsies I had and I remember that this girl had a yeast bun, with raisins in it in her bra, it went flying across the dance floor and all the boys were kicking it around.” Even after her reduction, Phil still has larger breasts than she did before children and she says that girls need to be careful that they don’t go too big in surgery just in case they grow after children. Given the choice, Phil would still not have had implants when she was younger. Amy Knight is looking forward to the swelling going down in the next few weeks. “I am just glad that I was given the choice,” she says. With medical advancement and readily available information it is good to know that we are able to make a choice that is right for us. * Name changed.

By Clare Todhunter It’s no secret that tanned skin has become a widespread beauty must-have. For the most part, pale skin is out and most of us are now trying to attain that bronze, sun-kissed glow that’s right up there with hair-free legs and slim physiques. Fortunately, we’re aware of the risks involved in attaining a natural tan. Over the last decade, we’ve been faced with alarming statistics and media hype, encouraging us to steer clear of ultra violet (UV) rays, either from the sun or solariums. Australia has the world’s highest incidence of skin cancer, with 281 melanoma cases attributed to solarium use each year. Alarming statistics show that those who use a solarium before the age of 35 have a 75 per cent increased risk of developing melanoma. As a result, the New South Wales government has recently announced new laws totally banning solariums from 2014, with pressure upon the remaining state governments to follow suit. Alas, tanned skin has remained a beauty musthave. With a desire to still show off a bronzed glow without the risk of skin cancers, many women have turned to what is considered to be the healthier option. A wide range of fake tanning products are now available, from professional spray tans to selfapplied mousse, slow-developing moisturisers to aerosol spray cans, and many others. To avoid the risks involved with natural tanning, some women maintain their bronze radiance by applying fake tans regularly. Meanwhile, many others have given fake tanning a go at least once, for special occasions such as weddings and school formals.

In this case, the dangers of UV rays and potential melanomas are no longer a concern. However, many women are now slathering these solutions all over their bodies without knowledge of the dangerous ingredients many of these products contain. Although, side effects may not be externally visible, long-term internal repercussions are possible. Our porous skin is our largest organ and, as we’ve seen with nicotine patches, a lot of what we put on it can be absorbed into our bloodstream. A 2009 study revealed that more than two kilograms of cosmetic chemicals can be absorbed into women’s bodies each year. While the active tanning ingredient in all tans, Dihydroxyacetone (DHA), is natural and considered to be harmless, some fake tanning products add other chemicals that have the potential to compromise the body’s organs. For instance, Ethoxydiglycol can be found in a number of fake tans. According to the Material Safety Data Sheet, this flammable substance can be hazardous and is known to be most dangerous to the kidneys. Animal studies have also shown it can cause infertility and birth defects. Erythulose, on the other hand, has been known to alter the genetic structure, while Methylparaben and Propylparaben have also been known for not only causing skin irritation, but both have also been linked to breast cancer. While many other chemicals can be found in various fake tanning products, these are the toxins most commonly found.

Most spray-tanning technicians do take some precautions to prevent these toxins from entering the body. Many use protective facemasks to avoid inhalation, and most recommend patch allergy tests before commencing the spray. However, neither of these efforts can prevent the skin from absorbing toxins. The safest way to fake tan is by seeking products that use primarily natural ingredients. While products can claim to be organic and natural, the ingredients list on the back can often reveal added chemicals. The best way to be sure of organic certification is to check the bottle for an organic processor number and, if you’re still unsure, contact the company and ask which organic certifier they’re licensed under. The best organic certifiers are Australian Government approved. While fake tans are still far healthier than natural tanning for the most part, it’s important to always be wary of what you’re exposing yourself to in the name of beauty. Of course, the healthiest option would be to bring the natural look back into style but until then, the best we can do is try to avoid products that contain synthetics and petrochemicals. Google the ingredients listed on back labels of cosmetics. Ensure you know exactly what you’re putting on your skin and potentially absorbing into your body. The human body is far too beautiful to be slathering it with toxic ingredients.

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You never think that recreational substance abuse will change your life. As told to Tara Baird “Every year my parents, brother and I go on a family vacation. This past year we decided to visit Greece, Germany, and the Netherlands. This time around, we decided to mix things up a bit and met up with some family friends that live in Germany – another couple my parents’ age, along with their two sons, Marc and Nils, who are close in age to my brother and me. My brother and I had been anxiously anticipating the trip for months, excited to see what Amsterdam had to offer in comparison to the city of Asheville, NC we were both living in at the time. We arrived in the small suburb of Amsterdam where our friends owned a condo, Marc, Nils, my parents and I ventured into the city. Marc and Nils went off for a bit while my mom, dad and I went and ate lunch at a vegetarian restaurant. We saw the beautiful canals, street performers, markets and squares, and ended up meeting Marc and Nils again for “dessert” at a café. We sat outside so we could people watch and my dad casually rolled a joint with the expertise of someone who has been doing so for 30 years. The joint was passed around (my mother politely declined), and we all talked and soaked in the afternoon. My parents wanted to explore on their own, so the boys and I went off on our own, as well.

We went to another coffee shop where I decided to get ‘space cake.’ When I ordered, the waitress winked at me and said ‘be careful,’ which at the time I only thought of as a funny anecdote to tell my friends, not a warning. She handed me the massive brownie on a plate and, being the huge chocolate lover that I am, I devoured it.

We walked around the city some more and I felt great. So great, in fact, that I was getting impatient with the space cake. I’m an impatient person, and at the time I thought the only logical thing to do to get the high I was expecting was to smoke more weed in an alleyway as we were walking down the street. As the sun began to set, we ventured into the legendary Red Light District. Out of what seemed like nowhere, the only word I can think of to describe what I was feeling is strange. Feeling strange quickly turned to feeling paranoid and anxious. My thoughts were racing. It was like my mind wouldn’t stop. Any discomfort I felt from the nudity, the prostitutes, the creepy men and this new, different city was exponentially increased by the drugs. I started hallucinating and before I knew it I couldn’t even distinguish reality from what was playing out in my mind. What started as a mental breakdown quickly turned to a physical one – my skin got cold and clammy and I began to feel dizzy. I kept trying to convince myself that it wasn’t happening, to talk myself out of these dark and evil feelings, but I just couldn’t. I don’t remember much after that. At this point in the day it was just Nils and I. This was awkward because we didn’t know each other very well, there were language barriers and cultural differences that he didn’t understand, and he had probably never had to deal with such an emotional girl before.

what hell felt like. Terror is the best word I can think of to describe the feeling. I couldn’t stand or speak and I barely even knew who or where I was. My parents could immediately tell it was due to the drugs. They literally carried me out of the city and we drove back to the suburb we were staying in. I passed out and woke up lying on the shower floor with the water running. I remember thinking ‘Wow, this is rock bottom.’ For the next 24 hours I was disoriented, embarrassed and ashamed of my actions, and my reactions. Early the next morning we flew back to the States. It was one of the strangest days of my life. I was still having flashbacks from my experience. Although the experience sounds ridiculous, this really happened to me and it opened my eyes up to a lot of things. I value my friends and family so much, and I know that if they hadn’t been there for me that day, much worse things could have happened to me. I also learned that I’m already a very emotional, sensitive person, and I don’t need drugs to intensify that. Drugs are no longer fun and recreational to me.

MARIJUANA-SELLING COFFEE SHOPS HAVE SINCE BEEN OUTLAWED TO TOURISTS IN AMSTERDAM DUE TO INCIDENTS LIKE THESE. TOO MANY TOURISTS WERE HAVING BAD REACTIONS TO THE DRUGS AND COMMITTING SUICIDE WITHIN THE CITY.

I’ve done a little research on my symptoms from the incident and I’ve been able to self-diagnose it as a panic attack. I had never had one before and have never had one since, so I can conclude that it was absolutely drug-induced. It really is fascinating the power that they can have over your body and mind.”

From what I’ve been told, Nils escorted me back to the designated meeting place we had set up earlier in the day where we found my parents. I was convinced that I was dying and that this is

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Yes, we are all busy at this time of the semester, but it doesn’t mean we have to look like something that got caught in a drain. After all, no one wants to finish week 14 with a chin full of pimples and a nervous twitch. The key features to look out for are your eyes, T-zone, hair and nails. Although caffeine is your solution to staying up all night, it has other uses than just the oral stimulant that we all depend on. Garnier Caffeine Eye RollOn works in minutes to make your eyes look less like the pillows you are craving to cuddle. If you’re too strung out to make it to the shops, dunk two teabags in hot water and place them in the freezer. This option consumes a little more time and requires a 10 minute lie-down but will leave you with more cash to celebrate the survival of exams. Beneath those puffy bags usually lies a serious case of roadmap-eyes. Stress, computerstare, a lack of sleep and the freezing library air conditioner will leave you feeling dry and achy. Visine Advanced and Visine Clear eye drops work to moisturise and relieve dry eyes, while making you look as fresh as you were in week two. Note: it takes both types of drops to fully benefit. Your high stress levels will take a toll on your skin, despite the most vigorous of routines. Before you even think about applying foundation, you must apply a primer. A primer is used after moisturising to perfect your base before applying a foundation. Your skin naturally works to process whatever you put on it, so that explains why your makeup wears off after a few hours. Note: any skin product containing an SPF will make your face appeal paler in photos. I recommend MAC, or Hourglass’s mineral-based Veil primer.

To get the most out of your precious application time, it is important to minimise the production of oil. I recommend MAC Matte as a mattifying lotion; apply to the T-zone after your primer and before your foundation. After your foundation has been applied all over, and you’ve covered any under-eye bags with a lighter concealer, set your base with a dusting of translucent powder to your T-zone. I prefer MAC or Armani. To brighten your possibly dull complexion, use an illuminating powder or cream to the tops of your cheekbones before dusting blush on the apples of your cheeks and contouring with bronzer. My favourite is Nars Orgasm Illuminator, followed by celebrity favourite Nars Orgasm Blush and MAC mineral bronzer. If you’re too tired to apply your regular eyemakeup, dust bronzer on either side of your nose to make it appear finer. Making sure your hair is perfect is usually the last thing on your mind when you’re running between the MLC and the coffee cart. A dry shampoo in an aerosol will pull you through for an extra day, without having to wash and blow dry. Last, but not least, do not, under any circumstances, bite your nails. Germs aside, it will weaken them, making them more prone to splitting and breaking. I suggest Revitanail polish for nourishing and repairing damaged nails; it’s available from most major pharmacies and gives amazing results. To maintain your best complexion all semester long, take a daily supplement targeted at hair, skin and nails, along with two litres of water per day. I recommend either plain zinc tablets, or a Swisse formulation. Now, who said you can’t feel smart and pretty!

You know that feeling you get when you walk by a MAC counter? Like your posture is that of a wet sock and your face, despite the hour it took to apply, has the glow of Lindsay Lohan right after a trial hearing? Well, I used to be that girl. No matter how much eye shadow I applied, it never stayed put. The colours weren’t potent, even if I bought them right off one of the MAC dolls’ faces. One day, I took it upon myself to cry out in pity. “Why doesn’t my makeup look like yours?” I whimpered. The fabulously gothic looking artist sat me down and asked me to describe my routine. Foundation? Check. Concealer? Check. And eye shadow. “Eye shadow?” she was baffled. “You apply eye shadow directly onto your foundation-coated eyelid?” I nodded, shameful before a given reason. “Painterly Paint Pot,” she smiled. What was this Hogwarts-sounding product? She handed me a small glass pot filled with beige mud. Was this going to save my face or would it be another futile attempt to look Photoshopped?

I bought it in sheer desperation. I couldn’t wait to get home and wipe away my sinful application and test this victorious little pot. It applied like a chalkier concealer and somehow mattified my eyelid. I applied a little black. It didn’t turn blue. A little grey. The colour was vibrant. Then some highlighting and liquid eyeliner. I waited an hour and attempted to smudge my liner. Nothing. I waited several more and still didn’t look like a racoon in labour. Surely it wasn’t this little pot? A week went by, as did seven different looks and shades. I still looked flawless. I decided to face the ultimate test and go for a stroll through David Jones. Within 10 metres of the MAC counter, I stood tall. Five metres; still felt pretty. And then I was there. In and amongst the artists who had once made me feel inferior, I sought a mirror. Despite my lack of precise training, I felt happy in my own skin. Well, as close to my own skin as was aesthetically pleasing. All thanks to this little pot.

HEALTH AND BEAUTY By Kevin Braysher

I’ve undergone a massive paradigm shift lately. I’m approaching 21 years old and heading into my final classes at university. That means I’ve had to grow up a bit over the last few months. Part of growing up is realising that you’re not invincible and that if you don’t treat your body right, it will suffer. For my first 18 months out of high school I developed some pretty bad habits. I was binge drinking multiple times a week, was eating far too much junk and not doing anywhere near enough physical activity (unless you count drunkenly dancing in nightclubs as exercise). When I graduated high school I was roughly 83kgs, this time 12 months ago I was 100kgs, and today I weigh 76kgs. Losing that weight is one of the proudest achievements of my life so far and I had to work damn hard to do it, but it actually isn’t as complicated as many people think it is. I know I’m not the only person walking around Bond who has had to deal with this issue and I hope these five steps can help others achieve what I have. 1. THERE ARE NO SHORT CUTS This is the first thing you need to understand. Everybody is looking for that get fit quick diet that will magically see them shed kilograms without having to do anything too strenuous. Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but those quick fix solutions do not exist. If you’re going to get fit and lose weight you’re going to have to work hard. Sad but true. If you’re looking for an easy way out I suggest you read some other article. They might spoon feed you the false hope you want to hear, but you will not see lasting results. You must be disciplined and you must be persistent. If you’re not willing to do that you may as well quit now. If you take nothing else out of this article, know that you need to be prepared to work in order to get results. 2. DON’T OVER COMPLICATE YOUR DIET People have a tendency to over think weight loss. I’ve seen all sorts of weird, fad diets. Calorie counting diets that restrict your intake of certain food groups while overloading on others. These diets might help people see quick results (if you don’t lose 4kgs in the first week, you get your money back!) but not only are these diets unsustainable in the long term, they deprive your body of nutrients that it needs to function properly and ultimately that weight comes back as quickly as you lost it. Instead of jumping on a restrictive fad diet, try eating a more general balanced diet. Don’t think too much, just eat plenty of fruit and vegetables, drink lots of water and for the love of God, stay away from junk. Eating poorly, even occasionally, can undo your hard work faster than anything else. That means no more chocolate, no more ice cream and no more McDonalds on the way home. This is important.

3. EXERCISE This may seem obvious, but it ties in nicely with my second point. Weight loss really isn’t rocket science, it just takes hard work, and what’s harder than exercise? If you’re trying to lose weight and don’t have a gym membership you’re probably not working hard enough. I go to the gym 5 days a week. I don’t buy into this ‘go for a walk a day’ stuff, that’s not pushing your body hard enough. Get on the treadmill, start lifting weights, jump in the pool, go to a spin class. You’ll be amazed how much progress you make in just a matter of weeks if you push yourself hard enough. 4. CUT BACK ON DRINKING If you’re anything like me, this is the point that will be the most difficult. In my first two years out of high school I was a functioning alcoholic. I never got to the point where I felt I was addicted to alcohol, but I was certainly dependent on it. I was binge drinking up to 3 or 4 times a week and was oblivious to the damage I was doing to my body. I got really serious about my weight loss last September and at that point I was still a little over 92kgs. At the end of that month I quit drinking and by the time New Years came around I was down to 79kgs. The difference I saw after cutting back on my alcohol consumption is not comparable to anything else. It was without question the most beneficial decision I made over the course of my weight loss. I still have a few beers for birthdays and other special occasions now, but I can count on one hand how many times I’ve had a drink this year. I used to struggle to do that in a week. 5. BELIEVE The final point I want to make is about belief. You need to believe that everything you do is making a difference. You need to believe that every healthy meal you eat, every kilometre you run, every drink you decide not to have is making a difference. If you don’t believe everything you’re doing is making a difference, how are you going to keep it up? Sometimes your weight loss will plateau and you won’t see results for a number of weeks. This is not a time to give up hope; it’s a time where you need to have faith that what you’re doing is worthwhile and will make a difference, even if you’re not seeing it right away. Remember, nothing in life worth having comes easy. Don’t expect it to be smooth sailing all the way, but always believe you’re heading in the right direction.

REVIEWS

LENNON: BEFORE HE WAS LEGEND A Review of ‘John’ by Cynthia Lennon By Michelle Gately “For ten years I shared my life with a man who was a huge figure in his lifetime, and who has become a legend since his death. Through the years in which The Beatles came together and went on to delight and astound the world, I was with him, sharing the highs and lows of his public and private lives.” Those are not the words of Yoko Ono, although many would attribute them to her. No, these are the words of Cynthia Lennon, a quiet, well-mannered Liverpool girl who became the wife of one of the most prolific musicians of the 20th Century. Since his tragic and meaningless death at the hands of a crazed fan in 1980 John Lennon has been immortalised through books, movies and documentaries. However, one story has almost been forgotten; that of the love that John and Cynthia shared and the life they lived through years of hardship before hysterical Beatlemania. John is her story. It is an emotional and moving journey through her relationship with the man she loved. “Dad was an idol to millions who grew up loving his music and his ideals. But to me he wasn’t a musician or a peace icon, he was the father I loved and who let me down in so many ways…I grew up longing for more contact with him, but felt rejected and unimportant in his life.” – Julian Lennon “John was an extraordinary man. Our relationship has shaped much of my life. I have always loved him and never stopped loving him. That’s why I want to tell the real story of the real John – the infuriating, lovable, sometimes cruel, funny, talented and needy man who made such an impact on the world. John believed in the truth and he would want nothing less.” – Cynthia Lennon I didn’t just pick these quotes to make you cry...well maybe just a little. These quotes are heartfelt, while not attempting to glorify a man who, to many, is still considered to be a god-like figure. Both these quotes explore some aspect of rejection or anger, highlight the pain John put them through and hinting at his flawed character. The heartbreak that his success brought to his somewhat forgotten family is also reflected in these quotes. Considering these quotes are presented before the book really even begins it is fair to say they are a good indication of the content of the book. I have split this review into categories of various songs - a sort of playlist for my review with each song relating to the particular paragraph. SHAKE, RATTLE AND ROLL! Lennon transports her readers back to the rock ‘n roll age and tells what it was really like to be a teenager in the fifties. Imagine those gorgeous frocks, the rockin’ hair and Elvis strutting his stuff (seriously, play Shake, Rattle and Roll and have a jive!). HOW? The story of both John and Cynthia’s childhood is told to set the scene. The insight into John’s life is perhaps the most interesting, with an exploration of the complex relationship he had with the dominating aunt who raised him, his distant and unreliable mother and his loving uncle. Both John and Cynthia were raised in thoroughly middle-class suburbs of Liverpool. John even attended one of Liverpool’s premier grammar schools; an ironic juxtaposition for the man who would later proclaim himself the ‘working class hero’. Although his childhood had an outward appearance of affluence John was deprived of a truly loving upbringing. This was perhaps the inspiration for the goose-bump inducing songs written during his solo career.

MOTHER John’s tumultuous teenage years were punctuated by the tragic losses of both his mother and uncle. This ultimately led to him forming profound relationships with both Cynthia and Paul McCartney who experienced similar tragedies in their teen years. Much of John’s later song writing was also influenced by these loses.

HELLO LITTLE GIRL The tale of teenage romance includes anecdotes of stern Aunt Mimi’s reaction to John and Cynthia’s relationship, John’s possessiveness and the jealous Beatles fans. Touching stories of Cynthia’s first trip to Hamburg with John and his love letters to Cynthia are also included (what girl wouldn’t have wanted a love letter from a Beatle in the sixties? I know...stupid question). “It was as though the more certain he was that I was there for him and loved him, the easier he found it to remove his protective armour…[letting] me see the hurt, lost little boy inside.” – Cynthia Lennon SHE LOVES YOU As the book progresses, audiences learn more about John and Cynthia’s marriage and the birth of their son Julian. During this time Beatlemania was at its height and audiences are able to really get a sense of what it was like ‘behind the scenes’ for John and Cynthia. The media attention was overwhelming and unforgiving and it is easy to liken the couple to birds in a gilded cage; constantly admired and scrutinised, but never allowed to fly free. “John didn’t make it to the hospital until three days after his own son was born – the first opportunity he’d had to get away from the tour…He came in like a whirlwind, racing through the doors in his haste to find us. He kissed me, then looked at his son who was in my arms. There were tears in his eyes: ‘Cyn, he’s bloody marvellous! He’s fantastic!’. He sat on the bed and I put the baby in his arms. He held each tiny hand, marvelling at the miniature fingers and a big smile spread over his face. ‘Who’s going to be a famous little rocker like his dad, then?’ he said.”– Cynthia Lennon “I was proud, excited and a little frightened. It was all taking off so quickly… the more successful the boys were, the further away from me John felt. I was getting used to being a mum, but most of the time I felt like a single parent…it was hard not to feel frustrated with being stuck at home. I loved Julian, but I knew that if I hadn’t had him I could have seen much more of John and that was hard…I felt shut off from the life he was living. After years at his side, I was excluded, just as it was all happening.” – Cynthia Lennon OH YOKO! Need I say more? Really? By the time you get to this part of the book you’re probably going to be looking for some kind of vindictive attack on Yoko Ono. Alas, I must disappoint you. Cynthia refrains from nasty and low blows to Yoko and John’s life together. However, there are many surprising incidents to read about. “The intimacy between them was daunting. I could feel a wall round them that I could not penetrate. In my worst nightmares about Yoko I had not imagined anything like this.” – Cynthia Lennon JEALOUS GUY Ultimately, Cynthia’s book brings John to the level of a flawed human who any average person can relate to. I was left with the impression that, while John was capable of creating beautiful words and philosophies, even he could not live up to them - nobody can. The book takes audiences on a roller coaster ride of emotions as they are confronted with revelations about Cynthia and John’s lives. Reading this could change your attitude towards John or Cynthia. Personally, I felt admiration for Cynthia after learning what she has been through, although there are many who may not believe her, as the book does challenge the perception that John was some kind of demigod. Regardless, all readers are taken on a poignant journey through John Lennon’s childhood and marriage with Cynthia’s vivid writing bringing the story to life.

REVIEWS By James Mackechnie See The Avengers, they said. It will be life changing, they said. For a number of weeks, the only thing I heard about was how amazing this movie was. After seeing it for myself however, I thought, “I should have just seen The Hunger Games again.” While I would definitely recommend that you hire it out some time, people’s continuous raving ensured that I had unrealistically high expectations of the film before heading to the cinema. So let me set the record straight. WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD. At the beginning of the movie, we watch two agents gather The Avengers squad, which consists of Black Widow, Hawkeye, Captain America, The Hulk and Iron Man. Initially there is much trepidation between these characters, as it seems they are reluctant to leave their newfound lives and loved ones behind to fight in yet another war. However, once they are informed about the deadly power of the Tesseract, a power supply so virile it could destroy the Earth itself, they are quick to jump onboard. As the storyline progresses, we learn that it is Loki, an evil deity from another world, that has come to rule mankind. He professes that freedom makes us weak and that we yearn to be ruled. It is after the first real fight scene that we learn this same character is the brother of Thor, who eventually teams up with The Avengers in their quest to save the planet. It is in this same scene that I found myself thinking, “laaaammmmmeeee.” Judge for yourself, but I’m pretty sure Captain America’s shield would not be able to withstand a blow from the hammer of an epic god.

A fair amount of time is spent developing the personalities of each character and exploiting their relationships with one another. Admittedly, this was one of the funnier and more enjoyable aspects of the movie. The storyline, however, was not so successful. The first three quarters of the movie were rather uneventful. Basically, Loki is captured temporarily and the crew takes to the skies in a giant aircraft. The Hulk and Iron Man, being the brainiest of the lot, are researching in their human forms and the rest of the team cannot act until they have determined how to locate and destabilise the Tesseract. What I don’t understand is why they couldn’t just do this on land? It seems a heck of a lot safer. Moreover, the producers went to the effort of showing us that the ship had the ability to turn invisible, yet this function is not used once and they end up being ambushed by the bad guys in broad daylight. Towards the end of the movie, the action really starts to heat up. One of my favorite scenes was when an old man stands up against Loki, refusing to be ruled by the tyrant. Just before he gets his head zapped off, in comes Captain America, in his skin tight red, white and blue costume. He embodies strength, patriotism, and above all, hope. When people see him, they know everything will be okay. During the actual war scene, I thoroughly enjoyed the gentle brutality of The Hulk, the sound effects of Iron Man’s suit and the absolute precision of Hawkeye’s arrows (even if I found myself wondering how they would pierce high-tech, intergalactic alien armor). In retrospect, I guess it was a pretty great movie after all. Once again, I attribute any feelings of disappointment I experienced to those people who continuously talked it up and raised my expectations too high. If it’s worth anything, I would still rate it 7.5 stars out of 10.

By Robert Rooney University: When asked to write a reflection for Baked magazine prior to my August graduation, I was at a loss as to exactly what to say and reflect on. Two years and eight months may seem like an insignificant amount of time to any ‘regular’ university student, but to a Bondie it’s an extraordinary amount of time spent developing close friendships, studying hard and, of course, partying harder. In that time I have come to be involved in many different aspects of Bond University life, such as Philosophy, Marketing, Business and Journalism. The great thing about Bond is that because it is so small you can get involved in just about anything– no matter your degree or qualification (of course an interest in the activity is always advised). The Journalism Students’ Association, in particular, is an excellent organisation which has developed Baked magazine into an integral university publication over the past few years. The quality has especially improved in recent editions with professional designers and teams of editors. It is not an easy job for club volunteers to give up so much time to what is sometimes a thankless role and I would like to extend my personal thanks to all those people who contribute to activities on campus, no matter how small that contribution. Dealing with bureaucracy is not easy at the best of times.

A reflection of my 2 Years and 8 Months at Bond University

Study: Two years and eight months of blood, sweat and tears, all-nighters, starvation, study, success, failure, drinking, parties, carousing, meetings, coffee, assignments, tutorials and exams have resulted in that hard fought battle for the Bachelor of Laws. Despite being renowned as one of the most difficult degrees to survive (yes, survive) I am glad to have finished it. If not for greatly increasing my own prospects for employment in just about any industry but for the great sense of satisfaction I have gained from being able to say I have completed it. I extend my sincere congratulations to those who have completed their degrees, to those who are working their way towards their relevant qualifications and still going strong! I believe it to be the hardest thing to do. My one piece of advice that I can give to all is something my father once said to me: “just take each day, one at a time, take each hour one at a time, do a bit of work, have smoko, do a bit more, have lunch, do a little bit more and have dinner. If you keep doing those little bits, they all add up until you’re finished.” If you follow this advice and break down your workload, you will get through – no matter how tough it seems! Another piece of advice on getting through your degree is to make the best use of your lecturer! We pay a fairly sizeable fee for the small class sizes and all lecturers have an open door policy! Ask them questions! Of course, don’t expect to get too far if you haven’t a clue what the course is about when you ask your questions the night before the exam.

Also, never buy your textbooks. If you’re going to be studying law, you’re going to live in the library. Home is too loud and doesn’t have free textbooks for loan. Food: Food is of course another thing to reflect on! In coming to university I intended to support myself fully for my entire degree. Something I thought would be easy was actually bloody difficult! Once when I was off work for a week (thanks to a funeral) I was down to my last dollar and staring at my flatmate’s cob of lettuce that he would feed to his chicken at the end of the night. Yes, I ate it and wisely said nothing when he commented on how much the chicken seemed to be eating. If you are ever in a similar situation, just look at the BUFFS Facebook page. Those guys have all the latest free food spots advertised. Also, eat at Market Square. Trust me. Working at Bond has also been an exciting opportunity to meet so many new people from just about every nation on earth. When I first was learning how to make coffee at Bond I was shown the machine and told to “go for it!” And so I did. Having never made coffee before in my life or even consumed it I immediately began making 6 shot coffees as I thought the first two shots looked too small to make a decent coffee. After the third person walked away literally rusting their teeth away and commenting through some considerable drug induced high I decided I should ask how many shots to put in a coffee. Rest assured, every barista is now professionally trained within a week of starting. Drink: Of course it is without a doubt the habit of every university student to get a little “slithered” or “trashfaced” or plain out “drunk.” A good university student experience is not complete without stumbling home as the sun is coming up without a shirt, holding a pine tree branch and three apples, after being hit on and asked for a dalliance with more than one person by a certain woman with whom we are all quite familiar. Of course the raging headache the next morning really does beg the question as to whether it was worth it. My advice – drink lots of water, pre, post and during. Unless you’re hardcore. Life: The only piece of life advice I can give you is to value your mates. A friendless life is quite lonely, miserable and practically pointless. Remember that. Life is very real. Just get ready for it. If you want real advice that may or may not help and may or may not send you a little crazy, watch Community. And buy the TV DVDs – it’s worth it and pirating isn’t cool if you want it to continue. So thank you Bondies. To all of you out there – it’s been a real honour working, studying and partying with you. Take care and good luck in the future. Remember, if life gets boring; don’t have a midlife crisis – go mudwrestling. Look up Linda Woelk – she knows all about it.

SOCIAL

BAKED LAUNCH PARTY Last semâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s launch party took a special twist, being held at the prestigious University Club. The winners of the photography competition, which turned out to be a huge success, were also announced. The night saw the handover of the old JSA to the youngsters of the new journo generation. Milly and Rob, you have been missed!

END OF SEM BASH - DISNEY EEnd of Sem Bash 121 took us back to our greatest childhood memories, where girls were dressed as princesses waiting to be kissed by their Prince Charming and boys lived up to their destiny to be a hero. It was a colourful night where some of Disneyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s most unique characters including Snowhite, Minnie Mouse, Winnie the Poo and the Indians of Peter Pan made an appearance.

Photographer // Liam Byrne Photographer // Jona Villanueva

SOCIAL

MID SEM BASH - MILE HIGH

THE MASQUERADE BALL

Welcome onboard to the theme of 121’s Mid Sem Bash. The Mile High Club saw Don’s fill up with all kinds of sexy stewardesses and attractive pilots. A few astronauts also got lost on their way to the moon and joined in on celebrating the relief of successfully completing yet another round of exams. It was a night not to be missed!

Contributing to the excitement at Bond in 121 was the Latin Society’s most distinct event, The Masquerade Ball. Lots of mystery surrounded the night as the question of who is who behind all the beautiful masks was the game to play.

Photographer //Jorja Wallace

Photographer // Shaun Rotman

SOCIAL

At one stage or another, we have all been deceived by the room numbers in building 6. We simply cannot fathom why they are labeled the way they are. And have you ever noticed the maps on the wall that are supposed to direct you? Take a look next time, we think they may be a little too visual.

There’s no denying that the introduction compulsory SAM caused some trepidation amongst the Bond community. In the aftermath, this Harry Potter inspired meme was born.

6 What is a meme, exactly? While they usually only comprise of a picture and a few words, it is a term that remains quite difficult to define. In our opinion, they are a form of social commentary as they often incorporate hyperboles and a strong sense of irony. Each of the following pictures capture a theme, a moment in time or an emotion exclusive to Bondies. Enjoy!

Coming in at number two is this picture depicting the classic ‘Bond is better than Griffith’ adage. Although we don’t necessarily support this mentality, the meme has been perfectly executed and is rather hilarious!

Note to freshers, it’s wise to take Reasoning Skills before Cultural and Ethical Values.

‘You should never go anywhere in life without thinking.’ That’s apparently what the infamous thinking steps represent. Depending on your height, you have two choices… Take giant leaps or alternate between 1 and 2 steps per step. If you haven’t mastered one of these techniques by the end of your first semester, we’re worried for you.

4 If you don’t get this meme, chances are, you’re pronouncing it wrong.

9 Don’t you hate it when you buy an expensive, brand new textbook and can’t resell it at the end of the semester? If you find yourself stuck in this position, simply spam the Bond Textbook Exchange group on Facebook & hope for the best

Just keep in mind there’s not much ventilation in the silent study areas, so the scent of your chicken cheese toasty wafts right down to the other end of the room. This is bound to get you a few furtive looks.

4. Not long ago, staff and students alike rallied against the introduction of FEE-HELP at Bond University. It was once an extremely controversial topic. Now, however, we can sit back and laugh about it in the form of a meme.

*Pictures taken from the Bond University Memes page on Facebook.

NO EXPLANATION NECESSARY.

SOCIAL

DO YOU THINK IT’S IMPORTANT THAT SUPERHEROES WEAR MASKS?

WOULD YOU EVER CONSIDER TRAVELING TO CHINA?

Hugh McFarlane BRISBANE: Yes, because it means their identity won’t be known and they won’t be targeted in daily life.

Sam Bradbury ROBINA: Yes, awesome tea ceremonies.

Matthew Harman VARSITY: Yes, mostly because China has a lot to offer culturally.

Rebecca Bills PACIFIC PINES: Yes, because it makes them intriguing.

Teagan Ridley, BURLEIGH: Yes, because they think it will make men more attracted to them.

Max Aleksrov RUSSIA: No, because there is a lot more sun here and there is also a lot of possibility of breast cancer.

Jessica Drummer ROBINA: No, women can get breast surgery for reduction because bigger breasts can be detrimental.

Lily Brand ROBINA: Yes, I think it’s rich in culture

KYLE MANNING MELBOURNE: Yes it is important, because they cause a lot of damage around cities and would be sued if they didn’t wear masks.

Sarah Ruggiero NEW JERSEY: No, because I’d like to see their faces.

Sophie Manion VARSITY: No, more of a selfimage thing.

TiTi ngoc Tran USA: Yes, it’s very different and nice.

Matthew Corry ROBINA: Yes, to look scary.

Thomas Bevans ROBINA: Yes, because masks are awesome.

DO YOU THINK WOMEN GET BREAST SURGERY JUST FOR BIGGER BOOBS?

Lara Booth ELANORA: No, not just for bigger boobs but mainly, I know two people who have them and they look ridiculous.

Stephanie Pickett ROBINA: Yes, because I don’t know much about China and the food would be great.

Sawan Naher, ADELAIDE: Yes, I haven’t been there before and I like travelling, plus communism is awesome.

Andrew Kiggundu ROBINA: Yes, for self esteem issues and also business reasons.