First Term Madness

I thought I would put down a few of the pieces I have written for some of my subjects, mostly journalism pieces. I'm sure I hae mentioned this a million times before, but one of the best ways to express yourself is through words and documenting things. So one day when I look back on this blog and read what I wrote for my journ course at university I will either cringe at how I used to write, or smile at the fact that I still write the same.

First though, an essay I loathed writing. Okay so I have admitted to Shakespeare being a genius. But Sonnet 129 kills my soul. Not only is is difficult to identify with his criticism of humans today, but it was the fact that I had to write a whole essay explaining why old William felt how bad humans are for having sex, that was what drove me insane. But I do get his point. Sort of. A paragraph from my essay, if you will...

The poem speaks about the ‘expense of spirit’ (1), or the using up of the vital energy humans need. That energy is seen as going to waste if one uses it up on sex just for lustful purposes. The poem elaborates on lust in action and lust before put into action.(2) Both of these can be equally denoted to a crude, immoral, untrustworthy and somewhat guilty crime.

Yes. Ok sure.

But here is a personal narrative article we had to write for journalism, I did quite well in it too, unlike in the English (hmmm, a sign perhaps?)

Filling the gap

I didn’t plan on taking a gap year after school. In fact, I had never even thought about the idea. You see, the plan was this; finish school, head on to Rhodes, become a journalist. But it was the day my mom suggested a year in England to me that altered my pragmatic plan partially. I went back to her later that evening and with just one quick skim over the Tutor’s Worldwide pamphlet, my plan had changed. The adventure had begun.

It didn’t take very long to realise I was on my own. The touching goodbyes’s at the airport, sitting in the boarding lounge and reading a letter from my mom, even the plane ride, they all seemed completely natural to me. It all went by really quickly. But it was when I stepped off the plane, got hold of my ridiculously large amount of luggage and came to quite a halt, mid-step in Terminal 4. Now what?

Why on earth did I think I could do this on my own? There I was, on the threshold of adulthood, albeit only just eighteen years old standing in a very non-South African environment, with no map. I needed a map. I strolled over to the chubby bearded man behind the help desk. Now I remember this moment so clearly you could swear it happened yesterday; “Or’righ’ darlin’ wha’ you wanna do is this, ‘op on the Piccadilly line from this terminal yea, stay on it for abou’ 10 stops then change, eeva at the circle or district line yea, but rava on the district, until the Victoria stop yea, you got that?”

No, I didn’t have it. But it was then that I developed my theory. This was the first big step to my independence. The first big step to my adventure. If I could make my way to Victoria station without losing my way (or my head for that matter), there would be nothing else I couldn’t do on this gap year.

Now I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a map of the London underground. It is epic. It looks like a two-year old has taken about fifteen different coloured crayons and spontaneously joined them up across the page. A ‘maze’ would be putting it lightly. But I slowly started to memorise it.

The underground eventually became my favourite form of travel. Whenever I missed mom and her special Sunday roast, the Piccadilly line took me to Covent Garden where I would have a Sunday lunch at Angelica’s (and the gravy was almost just like mom’s). If I ever felt like a great amble around a market that reminded me of Irene flee markets, the northern line kindly took me to Camden Markets on a Saturday afternoon. I would sit on those trains from Wimbledon to Upminster, getting off at every stop just for the sake of exploration and adventure.

I was once travelling on the central line to the Notting Hill carnival. The elderly lady next to me had been checking me out since we left Putney. Just before her stop, she asked me how old I was. When I replied, she seemed somewhat taken aback. For the rest of the ride I thought about maturity and how it surely cannot be measured by how old you are. It is what you have experienced that determines what you know.

My gap year took me on rides of knowledge I would never imagine myself getting tickets for. I travelled, and I met the most extraordinary people. I challenged myself, and I learnt how to budget my earnings. I learnt how to apply for jobs, and how to accept rejections. My lessons in independence prepared me well for life ahead. I had discussions with people that no lesson in school could ever have taught me. I now have a certainty of what I want out of life, and a new passion for wanting to learn even more.

And I learnt how the London Underground works.

The Mind the gap sign I became so familiar with by using the underground has a new meaning in my life now; don’t mind the gap, but fill it up.

I enjoyed writing that one.
We also learn the boring bits of journalism too, like hard news stories. Normally I don't really enjoy writing them, but I liked this one - because the person it was based on was so so interesting.

Freelancing: from Moscow to Berlin!

On the 16 March 2010, former freelance journalist and foreign correspondent Anna Christensen shared her stories with the first year Journalism students at Rhodes University.

The students avidly listened as she spoke about her “lucky breaks” with United Press International, her continuous obituary writing and her after attaining her “love affair with anything Russian” and how it eventually led her in Moscow, at the height of the Cold War.

Christensen shared with the students the hardships of her career; how the conflict between America and Russia left her “disillusioned’, and how it became hard to identify with her homeland because of it. She mentioned how she lost friends, and how the KGB limited her movement and freedom of speech as a foreign journalist.

Following her stay in Moscow, Christensen was sent to East Berlin to report where she “found herself homeless for a while” and what essentially marked the beginning of the end of her career.

According to a student in the lecture, he found Christensen very “seasoned in the journalistic sphere”, although he would have liked to hear more about her writing experiences.

Christensen is now combining her two passions, with a teaching degree and still doing some freelance work in South Africa. She wrapped up by telling the students that her worldly knowledge and belief was what got her to the top. “I believe you can be taught to be good at something”, says Christensen, “there is always something more to be learnt.”

I have one more, but I will create a new post for that. I think I got a bit over excited with this one. We also just handed in a beeeeeg Drama assignment which I will hopefully do well in. It was all about Shamanism, and how it influenced the way we act today. So interesting. It all is really. I love it at Rhodes. And I love learning new things. Honestly though. :) Yes, it sounds nerdy and cheesy. But, quite frankly. I don't care :) Over and out for now!