Dadaisms

Greetings yet again! I’ve nearly been here for a month already, and I feel like I’ve been here for a week!

Since the last time I wrote much has happened. Including me being exposed to some nasty international bugs that put me out for a few days, and me managing to get a mild bit of food poisoning. Other than that it has all been positive. I’m drinking far too much Coca Cola (99p stores are evil - 3 cans for 99p I tell you!), but on the flip side I’m eating hardly any meat and am loving smoked tofu. And I’m walking everywhere, so I’m getting quite a bit of exercise.

My most urgent goal over the past few weeks has been to buy clothes. Warm clothes. Number one on that list has been to acquire a pair of boots. Not going to well: I’ve been distracted by far too many goodies. Including a pair of formal *very shiny* silver shoes (which everyone loves, so they’re well-purchased); a bright green houndstooth hoodie; high heels (see below); hot pants (see below); and fishnets (see below!). So the quest for sustainable clothing continues.

Of course, I have now started lectures. Sussex has a beautiful campus. It’s very similar to the architecture of UKZN, but the lecture halls are ALL equipped with projectors (that aren’t stolen), computers and Internet connections, sound systems, and coffee machines. Ok, well, there aren’t coffee machines in the lecture rooms, but close enough! What I find fantastic is the number of trees on campus. It’s so GREEN. So the architecture doesn’t stand out as much as it does, for example, in Durban. It’s great to sit on the grass in between lectures. Provided, of course, that you can avoid being stalked by murderous seagulls with lust in their eyes. They hunt you down on foot, take to wing and snatch the food from your hands. I jest not. Beware the seagulls.

My course is fantastic. I’m particularly enjoying the gender studies aspect. We’re only just getting through core approaches, but I can tell that this term is going to be very interesting. My classmates include a Fijian, a Romanian, an Iranian, and a Pakistani - so all our conversations integrate examples from across the globe. I’ve found it fantastic to hear how their respective societies function. I’m looking forward to learning more.

I’ve also been rather active outside of class - whenever I haven’t been in my room reading, which is most of the time. I was lucky enough to be selected for a chorus part in the University production of West Side Story. Because it’s not a major role I don’t rehearse that often, so it isn’t affecting my studies. The cast and crew are great, and I’m really enjoying the dancing and acting releases from academics. Combined with the different evenings over the week - such as open mic nights, quiz evenings, tours of the city - I’ve been very busy. I went on a tour to Stonehenge and Bath: incredible. I’ve posted the link to my photo album below. My greatest excitement, however, is the approach of next Thursday, when I’m going to see Rocky Horror live. We’re dressing up, thus the reason behind the purchasing of the heels etc. Everyone in the city seems really excited about it: all the costume shops are running out of corsets and Frank outfits. I’ll be sure to take photos!

Tonight, 24 October, was the “White Night” festival. It’s a celebration of setting the clocks back 1 hour. The basic concept is that we have an extra hour, so why not use it to celebrate the arts? There were various exhibitions, gigs, tours and concerts happening throughout the city - most free - that one could wander around to. It was a beautiful evening to walk around. We started off by catching a bus tour of the city. Little did we know it lasted 1.5 hours. And we were placed on the top half of an OPEN double-decker  bus. Well. “Freezing” and “wind-swept” are hardly adequate in describing our condition after that. But we warmed up in a lovely burger bar, and set about exploring the scene. The Royal Pavilion, Brighton’s “palace”, built during the 1800s but sold by Queen Victoria later on, was open for the night. It’s not usually open during the evenings, so it was a real treat to get to see inside with all the lights lit. Wow, WHAT an incredible experience. The palace is a museum, decorated with a Chinese theme. What’s amusing is that none of the original decorators or designers had ever been to China, so it’s a typical colonial period depiction of “the Other” - OTT and exotic. But breathtakingly beautiful. The music room was particularly magnificent: its high ceiling, elaborate velvet curtains, lit fire and incredible chandeliers created the perfect atmosphere for the members of the Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra playing Mendelssohn.

This wonderful festival ended for me on a very special note. Quite by chance, Peter and I walked past the Brighton Town Hall, where a large crowd had gathered to watch one of the acts. We looked up, and on the balcony of the beautiful town hall building, surrounded by massive red velvet drapes that were billowing in the wind, was a drag queen. She was wearing a magnificent white ballgown, complete with sequins, Eva Peron hairdo and a diamante necklace/earring combo. She sang a few numbers, and ended her performance with “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” (of course). As she reached the crescendo of the chorus, the crowd below, gazing lovingly up at her, began to sing along. I spotted several tears glistening off the faces of the participants. As any good drag queen would do, she raised her arms in a mock Madonna/Evita pose, and the crowd of cheered.

I love Brighton.

Where else in the world could you assemble a random crowd that would know all the words to an Andrew Lloyd Webber number and clap in wild support of their gender-defying leader?

Links to my photos:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=158211&id=503735358&l=68034a2880

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=163244&id=503735358&l=1cdd534b1b

Love to all

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I know it’s old, but I still get a laugh out of reading it.

—–

To the citizens of the United States of America, in the light of your failure to competently govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately.

Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths and other territories.

Except Utah, which she does not fancy.

Your new Prime Minister (The Right Honourable Gordon Brown MP, for the 97.85% of you who have until now been unaware that there is a world outside your borders) will appoint a Minister for America without the need for further elections.

The House of Representatives and the Senate will be disbanded.

A questionnaire will be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed. To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

1. You should look up “revocation” in the Oxford English Dictionary. Then look up “aluminium.” Check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it.

The letter ‘U’ will be reinstated in words such as ‘favour’ and ‘neighbour’; skipping the letter ‘U’ is nothing more than laziness on your part. Likewise, you will learn to spell ‘doughnut’ without skipping half the letters.

You will end your love affair with the letter ‘Z’ (pronounced ‘zed’ not ‘zee’) and the suffix “ize” will be replaced by the suffix “ise.”

You will learn that the suffix ‘burgh’ is pronounced ‘burra’ e.g. Edinburgh. You are welcome to re-spell Pittsburgh as ‘Pittsberg’ if you can’t cope with correct pronunciation.

Generally, you should raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. Look up “vocabulary.” Using the same thirty seven words interspersed with filler noises such as “uhh”, “like”, and “you know” is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication.

Look up “interspersed.”

There will be no more ‘bleeps’ in the Jerry Springer show. If you’re not old enough to cope with bad language then you shouldn’t have chat shows. When you learn to develop your vocabulary, then you won’t have to use bad language as often.

2. There is no such thing as “US English.” We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter ‘u’ and the elimination of “-ize.”

3. You should learn to distinguish the English and Australian accents. It really isn’t that hard. English accents are not limited to cockney, upper-class twit or Mancunian (Daphne in Frasier).

You will also have to learn how to understand regional accents — Scottish dramas such as “Taggart” will no longer be broadcast with subtitles.

While we’re talking about regions, you must learn that there is no such place as Devonshire in England. The name of the county is “Devon.” If you persist in calling it Devonshire, all American States will become “shires” e.g. Texasshire, Floridashire, Louisianashire.

4. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as the good guys. Hollywood will be required to cast English actors to play English characters.

British sit-coms such as “Men Behaving Badly” or “Red Dwarf” will not be re-cast and watered down for a wishy-washy American audience who can’t cope with the humour of occasional political incorrectness. Popular British films such as the Italian Job and the Wicker Man should never be remade.

5. You should relearn your original national anthem, “God Save The Queen”, but only after fully carrying out task 1. We would not want you to get confused and give up half way through.

6. You should stop playing American “football.” There are other types of football such as Rugby, Aussie Rules & Gaelic football. However proper football - which will no longer be known as soccer, is the best known, most loved and most popular. What you refer to as American “football” is not a very good game.

The 2.15% of you who are aware that there is a world outside your borders may have noticed that no one else plays “American” football. You will no longer be allowed to play it, and should instead play proper football.

Initially, it would be best if you played with the girls. It is a difficult game. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which is similar to American “football”, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like nancies).

We are hoping to get together at least a US Rugby sevens side by 2010.

You should stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the ‘World Series’ for a game which is not played outside of North America. Since only 2.15% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable. Instead of baseball, you will be allowed to play a girls’ game called “rounders,” which is baseball without fancy team strip, oversized gloves, collector cards or hotdogs.

7. You will no longer be allowed to own or carry guns. You will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous in public than a vegetable peeler. Because we don’t believe you are sensible enough to handle potentially dangerous items, you will require a permit if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

8. The 4th of July is no longer a public holiday. The 2nd of November will be a new national holiday, but only in Britain. It will be called “Indecisive Day.”

9. All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap, and it is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean.

All road intersections will be replaced with roundabouts. You will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

10. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call ‘French fries’ are not real chips. Fries aren’t even French, they are Belgian though 97.85% of you (including the guy who discovered fries while in Europe) are not aware of a country called Belgium. Those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called “crisps.” Real chips are thick cut and fried in animal fat. The traditional accompaniment to chips is beer which should be served warm and flat.

Waitresses will be trained to be more aggressive with customers.

11. As a sign of penance 5 grams of sea salt per cup will be added to all tea made within the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, this quantity to be doubled for tea made within the city of Boston itself.

12. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling “beer” is not actually beer at all, it is lager . From November 1st only proper British Bitter will be referred to as “beer,” and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as “Lager.” The substances formerly known as “American Beer” will henceforth be referred to as “Near-Frozen Gnat’s Urine,” with the exception of the product of the American Budweiser company whose product will be referred to as “Weak Near-Frozen Gnat’s Urine.” This will allow true Budweiser (as manufactured for the last 1000 years in the Czech Republic) to be sold without risk of confusion.

13. From the 10th of November the UK will harmonise petrol (or “gasoline,” as you will be permitted to keep calling it until the 1st of April) prices with the former USA. The UK will harmonise its prices to those of the former USA and the Former USA will, in return, adopt UK petrol prices (roughly $10/US gallon — get used to it).

14. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you’re not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults. If you’re not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist, then you’re not grown up enough to handle a gun.

15. Please tell us who killed JFK. It’s been driving us crazy.

16. Tax collectors from Her Majesty’s Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all revenues due (backdated to 1776).

Thank you for your co-operation.

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So the blogosphere, twittosphere, discussion threads and social networks are all abuzz with Adam Lambert talk. I read a very interesting article here about Adam’s presence on TV as a turning point for gay visibility.

And that got me thinking: do we judge him as a pioneer for gay rights? As a symbol of the young gay man today? As an icon in a continuous struggle for equality?

And my personal answer would be no to all of the above. Adam Lambert, for me, represents something far more complex and yet simpler at the same time. He speaks to the nature of sexual identity politics for so many ‘gay’ people today (young, maybe old?). He does not flaunt a personal struggle to come to terms with identity - indeed, as far as I’m aware he hasn’t specifically said “I am gay”…he’s just said that he has nothing to hide.

Nor does he speak out for any cause.

What this symbolises from my perspective is a frustration with labels and the media. Friends I have spoken to are tired of being labeled “gay”, because what does GAY mean? They’re tired of having to clarify, they’re tired of being judged by just ONE aspect of their life.

So whilst some people who watch AI are chatting about whether there’ll be a GAY winner, Adam Lambert is standing there as the epitome of the pomosexual man - the man who has moved beyond petty sexual identity politics.

Instead of lashing out about the Miss California issue, or speaking about gay marriage or whatever other issues, he just continues to do what he does best: perform.

And the message he sends is very clear:

“I’m here, and I can sing. I may be gay, I may not be, but who gives a f**k if I am? I still rock your world”

And that’s exactly what pomosexuality is, that “who cares??” aspect of life in relation to identity - who cares if he’s gay? If you’re asking, then it’s an issue for YOU, and YOU need to deal with it. Either that or you’re gay yourself and want to have some sort of common connection fantasy to him (no judgement here…). He’s beyond it - so don’t judge him or analyse him according to a set of predetermined values.

Adam, for me, is the pomosexual man. He may label himself as gay for convenience, but by no means is that a defining feature of him. He’s a testament to contemporary existence for many people - move on. Get over sexual labels, they’re not nearly as important as you think they are. There are bigger things to worry about in the world.

No, I’m not hero worshiping him. Nor am I putting pressure on him to live up to any expectations. I am simply observing his projected image. I don’t expect him to do certain things in terms of his life outside performing, nor do I expect him to say certain things about certain issues. And it is this lack of expectation that defines a pomosexual mode of representation - not a lack of ethics, but rather a lack of ‘hype’ around who’s gay/straight/bi/tri/trans/a/etc etc etc.

And so no, his presence on TV has not increased gay visibility. It instead serves as an insight into a segment of society that has evolved beyond dominant ideologies of heteronormativity and patriarchy. His presence has increased pomosexual visibility - it leaves those outside to the familiar prejudices of the Othering process thinking “WTF??”. And that is why Adam Lambert is incredible as an artist.

Viva the pomosexual. Viva Adam Lambert.

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Right, so here we are. As I predicted. 1 year later and I failed miserably on the blogging front. Shame on me.

But I’m back and trying to give it a go again! So here goes…

Life check:

- Completed Honours (yay)

- Now doing Masters in English, with a focus on Gender Studies

I think my first proper post will be about what I plan to research

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As I write this I am sitting on a couch with my laptop on my knees. I am connected to the Internet via 3G on my mobile phone, which is communicating with my computer via Bluetooth. Whilst blogging, my friend is standing in front of me, playing Wii.  This is all very postmodern - a total shift away from “making do” to “making”. Viva.

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So I fell into the same-old trap of procrastination. Life over the last few weeks, however, has been especially stressful.

For a start, the conference was amazing. I can’t begin to sum up what an experience it all was - truly life changing. We have a few more group meetings this year, so I’m looking forward to those. Isn’t is strange how we take things for granted in our lives? We assume that we have it so hard, but there are always people far worse off than us. But on the other hand, we can’t live in guilt that we are more privileged than others - that’s no way to live at all.

In terms of the whole “moving” thing, I’ve decided to go with Durban. My flat is nearly fully furnished (and is looking fierce in lime green and pink, with splashes of purple here and there), and I’m registered on campus (which wasn’t NEARLY as stressful as undergrad registration). I hope I’ve made the right decision - I still have nagging feelings about flotsam and jetsam in my life, and I’m not entirely savvy as how to eliminate such insecurities. Damn those penguins.

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I went to chat to the head of the Media department in PMB this morning. He was giving me advice on whether to move to Durban or not, and made me aware of the departmental politics that I may encounter should I choose to Durban.

The decision to move away from home, move away from the lecturers you know, move away from all your friends is a huge one. Granted, being on an academic scholarship I have to consider what is best for my academic career. However, surely I should consider my social and personal growth as well? Should one remain in a city that does nothing for one’s personal development, or should one move to a department in which one may encounter academic difficulties?

My dilemma extends to next year. I’m thinking about applying to Oxford to do my Masters Degree. If I suddenly choose to stay in PMB, it means that (in the event that I am accepted to Oxford) I will just from living at home for 22 years, to living “alone” in a foreign country, surrounded by NO-ONE I know. I feel that Durban is by better option, purely because it provides that essential stepping-stone phase. Yes, I would adapt and survive if I didn’t have the opportunity to study in Durban first. However, I DO have the opportunity, and I’ve decided that I’m staying in Natal.

So I ultimately need to weigh up my personal, social and academic interests, and decide what is best for me overall.

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Here is a piece I wrote at the start of last year. As February approaches, registration is on the minds of all students. My prayers are with you all.

Registration Day: two words that strike fear into the heart of even the most determined and disciplined UKZN student. If the term does not conjure images of torment, torture and numerous collapsed bodies, then you must be either a first year student; a stranger to the Premier University of African Scholarship; or a total lack-wit. A combination of these, of course, is also possible. First year students tend to have this absurd notion that their induction into the University system will be “exciting”, “maturing”, or (even worse) “fun”. We should pity such students, not wish them ill. To those students returning from their vacations, the mention of “registration” is likely to result in the need for another three months of intensive psychotherapy. As such, the mention of “registration” on campus during February and March is highly unadvised. That is unless you have a wish for death-by-student of course.

2007 marked the entry into the final year of my degree – my final registration day ever. First year registration was a mess of emotions ranging from depression, to excitement (remember to pity the first years), to hopelessness, to satisfaction. And that was just the walk from Main Campus to Golf Road. As for second year registration: let’s just say that some of us are still recovering from being locked inside the Law School due to the strike action. As a result I didn’t get my hopes up for this year to be any better. I wasn’t disappointed.

For some reason, unknown to any rational person, UKZN squeezes all returning students’ registration into one day. This invariably means that you have all the second years, all the third years, all the backlogged first years and all those doing third year for the fifth time registering on the same day. Why doesn’t the University spread it out over a week? Why doesn’t the University employ more people to hand out the forms? Why doesn’t the University invest in industrial-strength fans?! As a result, the day consists of students scurrying, crawling, galloping and swinging from queue to queue to queue.

My day began with an effort to beat the masses of the great unwashed by arriving at the demarcated pick-up point at 6:30. I was twentieth in the single-file queue. By 8:00 I was fiftieth in the triple-file queue. So much for my attempt at beating the crowds. After a minor temper tantrum I was able to get in front of those who had arrived an hour and a half after me, and eventually pick up my registration form. The next step (as indicated by the massive, idiot-proof signs splayed across every second wall) was to get signatures from my lecturers. As I crossed the threshold into the air-conditioned lecture rooms where the academics were situated, I noticed several students huddled up in the foetal position. They were rocking back and forth, murmuring something about “The queue!” ‘The queue’ was the massive concertinaed line of psychology students spewing forth from the room. I looked to the heavens and thanked myself for not choosing psych as a subject. After beating my way through the poor souls and crossing the swamp that had arisen from the leaking air-cons, I found my head-of-department, looking thoroughly harassed. When he saw me, all I could read on his face was, “Oh no, not him! Please not him! He’s going to ask more questions - he always does!” And that I did.

Signatures obtained, I swam out of the room, and stood in yet another queue (surprised?), this time for the Dean’s signature. To pass the time, I watched other people. Those other people included students who had finished their registration – many of whom (mysteriously) were about fifty places behind me in the first queue. I must have missed that time warp. After standing for 45 minutes in 37 degree heat I was told by the person next to me that I was, of course, in the wrong line. How silly of me. I mean, who can’t tell the difference between a commerce queue and a humanities queue? My mistake. After breathing deeply and singing Abba to myself to keep calm, I reached the Dean. I still fail to understand why everyone else required a twenty minute consultation period.

The administration personnel who completed the next step of the never-ending process were little bundles of joy and enthusiasm. I have always thought that if one is employed in a position that requires constant interaction with students, then one should be tolerant and –dare I say – even friendly with students. Obviously UKZN missed that memo. The administration step required careful maneuvering as not to stomp on any tails of the various dragons positioned throughout the room. I had to hold my breath, as the smell of fire and brimstone was overpowering.

The final leg required an exodus down the road, across the lawns and to the Risk Management Services queue to activate my student card. This was a step that not everyone survived: many became despondent and left to rejuvenate their energies. Others were not so lucky with the dragons. I, however, had packed my box of sausage rolls. Combined with Abba, I had my elixir to last me through the final stages of torment. The road to RMS was riddled with dangers: Christian fundamentalists handing out juice; representatives from every bank in South Africa trying to convince one to join their ranks; and, worst of all, recruiters from various varsity sports clubs. I was lucky – my singing of Voulez-Vous (uh-huh!) and averted eye contact managed to keep the scavengers at bay. The queue was made bearable by the sketches of shade, though the sweat-drenched, booty-short-wearing masses diminished this positive ever so slightly. And so I began counting down the hours.

And then with a swipe of a card, it was all over. Rater anticlimactic I thought: I was expecting applauding crowds.

Nonetheless, after seven hours, my registration was finished. Yes, it was painful. Yes, I was soaked in other peoples’ sweat. Yes, I lost part of my remaining sanity on the journey. But at least I can say that my last-ever registration day is over.

To those having to register next year, I have some advice: wear an extended belt, high heels and a very revealing top. You will be guaranteed a place at the front of every queue. For those who are not able to do so, try not to fail anything. The thought of having to go through another registration day should be motivation enough to pass all your courses.

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I’m meeting with one of my lecturers from PMB tomorrow to discuss Durban…

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I met up with my potential lecturers yesterday…it turns out, I’M MOVING TO DURBAN! I confirmed my acceptance into the Howard College Media Department yesterday. All that remains is to actually register (I must remember to dig up my “Registration Day” piece and post it) and move into my flat.

Speaking of which, I drove past it yesterday. Before I move in, the owners have to paint the walls, block off a wall, and erect a garden fence. There was no garden fence yesterday, so I’m starting to worry about the interior. What if it’s not finished before semester starts?

Amidst my excitement, I am sad to be leaving the PMB department. I’ve come to form close bonds with the staff and my peers. It’s rather intimidating entering an environment where everyone else has formed connections. But there is a wide range of courses on offer, and the lecturers are exceptionally helpful, so I shall survive.

On a more panicked note…I leave for the conference on Friday, and I still don’t know what I’m supposed to be taking with me!

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