A letter to my younger, more naive, self.
Dearest Plakkie
Fitting all that I would like to tell you in one letter would be like squeezing on a pair of your “thin jeans” when you were 10. Impossible.
It is nearly the beginning of a prospective new adventure. Prepare yourself for sensory overloads, all nighters, copious amounts of coffee, junk food, life changing conversations and an initial acute awareness of yourself and your surroundings, which will give way to that rollercoaster we call life, and more personally, your unique first year experience.
All your trepidation about the “small town bubble” factor of growing up in Grahamstown and coming to Rhodes is appeased by the fact, (albeit Grahamstownian advocators) cliché that the experience is refreshingly different. No longer feel claustrophobic.
If the occasional mild cabin fever sets in, take yourself back to the train ride, David Gray’s “Babylon” streaming through your Ipod, afternoon sun on your face and blue sky above you. The epiphanic moment when striving to become a journalist became part of your being. You’ll feel a lot better.
You won’t steal your parents’ car to go clubbing at EQ and get caught. Your drunkenness won’t leave RAFSOC in the red. No fun, you think? On the contrary my friend.
If first year is like a circus, your forte is that of juggler extraordinaire. Time, there never seems to be enough. Know when to catch the ball, and to next throw it in the air, balancing work and play.
The key to becoming a master juggler, and a successful one at that, is if you can look back and say “I pulled that off – really well”.
One day you will learn how to work hard and party smart – all without severe negative consequence (mild hangovers excluded, the remedy for which is Cream Soda – a gift from the gods). Until then, revel in the fact that you’re young, passionate and driven – chin up, head on your shoulders. Now, fly.
Good karma heading your way.
All my love,
Moi
Fitting all that I would like to tell you in one letter would be like squeezing on a pair of your “thin jeans” when you were 10. Impossible.
It is nearly the beginning of a prospective new adventure. Prepare yourself for sensory overloads, all nighters, copious amounts of coffee, junk food, life changing conversations and an initial acute awareness of yourself and your surroundings, which will give way to that rollercoaster we call life, and more personally, your unique first year experience.
All your trepidation about the “small town bubble” factor of growing up in Grahamstown and coming to Rhodes is appeased by the fact, (albeit Grahamstownian advocators) cliché that the experience is refreshingly different. No longer feel claustrophobic.
If the occasional mild cabin fever sets in, take yourself back to the train ride, David Gray’s “Babylon” streaming through your Ipod, afternoon sun on your face and blue sky above you. The epiphanic moment when striving to become a journalist became part of your being. You’ll feel a lot better.
You won’t steal your parents’ car to go clubbing at EQ and get caught. Your drunkenness won’t leave RAFSOC in the red. No fun, you think? On the contrary my friend.
If first year is like a circus, your forte is that of juggler extraordinaire. Time, there never seems to be enough. Know when to catch the ball, and to next throw it in the air, balancing work and play.
The key to becoming a master juggler, and a successful one at that, is if you can look back and say “I pulled that off – really well”.
One day you will learn how to work hard and party smart – all without severe negative consequence (mild hangovers excluded, the remedy for which is Cream Soda – a gift from the gods). Until then, revel in the fact that you’re young, passionate and driven – chin up, head on your shoulders. Now, fly.
Good karma heading your way.
All my love,
Moi
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