Monday, May 28, 2007


I left my cell phone in the grey lab the other day. But this is not how this story will be told.
It was a usually horrible day on campus, filled with the traditional stress, contempt of absolutely everything and general lack of social life. Our networking project was due the next day and considering networking has been our absolute worst subject all year, things were pretty tense. This, naturally, was good enough reason for us to promptly give up and choose a place to eat at lunch time instead of prioritising our lives and postponing lunch. Coffee at Burgundy’s on campus serves a cheap horrific margherita pizza and the place is frequented by lecturers who have somehow forgotten that one lowers ones voice when indoors. But as we all should know by now, I don’t mind weird lecturers. Burgundy’s was getting to me somehow. “Coffee at Burgundy’s is a unique upmarket licensed casual Restaurant aimed at all sectors of the public and has captured the market.” Yeah sure. Maybe at every single other branch except the damn University of Pretoria one. Gosh it sucks. It looks like some cheap hotel in New Orleans in a bad supposedly smutty romance movie with blotchy British actors. The kind that you watch on a rainy night because there’s nothing else on and your heater’s broken and your skin is itching. Anyway we order the horrific pizza (I’m not complaining though, I didn’t pay) and ice cold water (oh my word, only university students can ask for ice cold water in this weather) and we’re tucking in when Thohira gets this phone call. It’s Zak, my sister’s best friend. Why on earth is Zak phoning Thohira? Thohira is giving me this incredulous look and I’m wondering if maybe someone is dead. She pointedly tells Muhammad and not me to take this number down because I don’t have a phone. What the hell? It’s only then when I realise I don’t in fact have it any more. Somehow my network rose up to contact me and the sad news about that pathetic 3310 did eventually get to me. So the list of people that were involved grew and grew throughout the day. Roughly it goes that William picked it up in the grey lab, called Ebrahim who contacted Shakira who called Andrea (some person I don’t know) who called Michelle who told Farah who called Saaj who called Zak who called Thohira who, yelled and laughed shamelessly at poor me. Then I picked it up from the Joyce, the secretary on the 17th floor of the HSB who told me some random Chinese person was trying to call. I stopped caring about failing Networking that day. I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank all these people, whether I know them or not.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Our Lady Peace

Oh, Johnny wishes he was famous
Spends his time alone
In the basement
With Lennon and Cobain
A guitar and a stereo
While he wishes he Could escape this
It all seems so contagious
Not to be yourself and faceless
In a song that has no soul
I remember feeling low
I remember losing hope
I remember all the feelings
And the day they stopped
We are, We are all innocent, we are all innocent
We are, we are, we are
We are all innocent, we are all innocent
We are, we are...
Oh, Tina’s losing faith in what she knows
Hates her music Hates all of her clothes
Thinks of surgery
And a new nose
Every calorie is a war
While she wishes she Was a dancer
And that she'd never Heard of cancer
She wishes God would give her
Some answers
And make her feel beautiful
One day
You'll have to let it go,
One day You'll stand up on your own, you'll stand up on your own
Remember losing hope, Remember feeling low, Remember all the feelings and the day they stopped
We are, We are all innocent, we are all innocent
We are, we are, we are, We are all innocent,
we are all innocent
We are, we are...