As we spill out of the Arts Faculty building, I see everyone splitting up into groups and heading off in different directions. Even Vuyo gets towed off to the Rat by a group of guys who liked what he had to say during the meeting. He gives me a friendly wave, and then they head off together, laughing and joking.

I’m the only one left on my own. Like I’ve got the plague or something. I consider walking back to Somerset House with Tyler and giving her a piece of my mind for embarrassing me like that, but she obviously has better things to do.

I’m practically at res by now so I step behind a bush and start planning my point of entry. It’s not like I can just march in through the front door, you see. Not since Jasmine Nair become my Academic Support mentor. She seems to spend every waking moment prowling around Somerset House, waiting to pounce on me for neglecting my work.

It’s bad enough that I have to put up with her all day – I don’t want her harassing me all night too. Our two-weekly meetings are okay because I’ve found the perfect way to head her off. I arrive at the meetings armed with a fourteen-day study programme all worked out on an Excel spreadsheet. This usually impresses her so much that she forgets to shout at me for my bad essay marks.

The only catch is trying to remember what I’m supposed to be doing at a particular time. So when my schedule says, ‘9.30 pm to 11.30 pm – Microeconomics Revision’, I can’t let Jasmine catch me following my real schedule which would be something like, ‘9.30 pm to 2 am – meet friends for drinks at the Rat.’

So half the time, I have to sneak around res like a spy. It’s getting exhausting.

As I lurk in the bushes trying to decide which entrance to use, my phone beeps with an incoming SMS, making me jump. I don’t have time to look at it now. I need to get inside to the safety of my room. Sticking to the shadows, I do a big loop around the front of Somerset House until I reach a side door. I open it very, very quietly and poke my head in to scope out the scene. There are two people in the duty room and a few more in the common room. The TV is still on, which gives me some sound cover.

I hold my breath for a moment and then make a break for it, speed walking past the duty room, past the common room and up the stairs.

I slam the door shut behind me and collapse onto my bed. I can feel a serious bout of self-pity coming on.

Why is my life so incredible shitty at the moment?

First I get laughed at by a bunch of pseudos and then I have to slink into my own res like a criminal.

The pile of textbooks on my desk catches my eye and I feel even more depressed. God, if only I could just wave a magic wand and make them all disappear. I try to think happy thoughts, but my eyes keep getting drawn back to my desk.

I suppose I could try to get more on top of my work, I think reluctantly. Like, really get it under control.

I sit up. Suddenly this idea doesn’t sound completely far-fetched. I could be one of those super-organised people who always hand their essays in two days early. Then I’d never have to go to another meeting with Jasmine in my life.
Yes!

A lovely, shiny vision pops into my head – of me striding across campus with a basket full of completed essays to deliver. And I’d get firsts for all of them, of course. Or maybe upper-seconds. And all the other first-years would come to me for advice on how I turned my life around.

I start taking my clothes off in a happy daze.

I’ll start now, I decide as I pull on my pyjamas. Right this minute. Feeling all efficient and businesslike I grab my most recent study-planner to see what I scheduled for this evening.

Tuesday 9 pm to 11 pm – read three articles on how the Baroque movement evolved into Rococo.

Okay. Well that’s easy enough. I know I’ve got those articles somewhere. I scanned them onto disk just the other day.

Suddenly I give a huge yawn. God, I’m tired. And I’ve just had an even better idea. I’ll get a really early night tonight so I’ll be fresh and ready to tackle my new life tomorrow. Mental alertness is the key. When I wake up my brain will be razor sharp.

I climb under my duvet, yawning some more. Boy, I feel a whole lot better.

******

I don’t know if this has ever happened to you before – when you wake up the next morning to find that the resolutions you made the night before suddenly don’t seem quite so attractive in the cold light of day?

Well, guess what? This isn’t one of those times.

I wake up the next morning feeling just as full of determination as I was last night. And I was right about having an early night. I feel a million times brainier today.

It’s eleven o’clock in the morning now and I’m spending my first free period in Kaif. I’ve been to every single one of my lectures this morning, including the dawny. This is practically a world record for me. And as part of my new regime, I’m even drinking a cup of black coffee and reading the EP Herald. Normally it would be a cappuccino and the latest copy of Heat.

I really should invest in a pair of plain-glass spectacles, I think to myself. They’d totally go with my new image.

‘Trinity?’

I look up in surprise..

It’s that bearded guy from last night. What was his name again?

‘Oh. Er, hi.’ I say feebly.

‘Sorry to disturb you. Do you mind if I sit down?’

‘Of course not.’

He slides into the booth and sits facing me.

Oh, God. What does he want? He’s going to kak on me for wasting their time last night, isn’t he? He’s going to ask me not to attend any future meetings. Oh, this is going to be so embarrassing.

‘Well,’ he says, clearing his throat. ‘I just wanted to let you know that we presented your ideas to our Faculty Liaison Officer this morning and he … well, basically, he loved them.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘I know. We could hardly believe it either. But apparently our ideas were all wrong, and your ideas were exactly the kind of fresh new thinking that the Rhodes Reporter needs. And now he wants us to get started on drawing up some first drafts for next month’s issue. The problem is none of us has any experience writing the sort of stuff you were talking about last night. So we really need you to take the lead.’

I’m hearing what he’s saying, but I can hardly take it in.

‘They liked my ideas?’ I say in amazement. ‘They really liked my ideas?’

‘They really did.’ He cracks a small smile behind the beard. ‘But I must warn you that it would mean a huge time commitment from you. We’ve had students before who have struggled to juggle their studies with their commitment to the Rhodes Reporter. Some even failed their final exams when it all got too much for them. It’s something you should probably think about before you say yes.’

A huge smile appears on my face. I feel as if the sun has come out from behind the clouds and all the birds have started singing.

‘I don’t need to think about it,’ I say eagerly. ‘I accept! I accept with pleasure.’

*****

Dear Themba

I met this guy at a party a few weeks ago. I thought we really hit it off. We spent most of the night chatting and laughing together. At the end of the evening he said we must get together again soon and I gave him my cell number. Since then he hasn’t called once, although he’s very friendly if I happen to run into him on campus.

The other day he said again that we should meet for coffee some time, but he didn’t say exactly when.

Themba, I really like this guy and I think there could be something good between us. Why is he sending me such mixed messages?

Confused
Second-year

*****

Dear Confused

There’s a great book on the market called, He’s Just Not That Into You by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo. It proves once and for all that when a guy really likes a girl he doesn’t send her mixed messages. He sends a very clear message that she can’t possibly misinterpret.

The sad truth, dear Confused, is that in this case he really isn’t that into you. Even though you felt a spark and saw the potential for something more, he didn’t. Any attempt to make him see it your way will just come off as desperate.

Forget him and move on.

*****

Dear Themba

My parents don’t know I’m living with my boyfriend. They think I’m sharing a digs with a couple of friends. And now they’re coming to Grahamstown to visit and I’m afraid they’re going to freak out. Don’t tell me they’ll understand, because they won’t – they’re reborn Christians.

I’m afraid they’ll make me go back to living in res.

Desperate
Third-year

*****

Dear Desperate,

You have two options. You can lie and pretend that your boyfriend isn’t living with you – move all his stuff out and act as if he lives somewhere else. The trouble with this is that there is bound to be a slip up and your parents will be even angrier because you lied to them.

Your other option is to tell them the truth. Explain that you are two adults who are in a loving and committed relationship and that you have chosen to live together. Then deal with the consequences.

I’m afraid there is no quick-fix solution to this problem, Desperate. Either way, you will probably end up having to face the music.

*****

Dear Themba

Last night I got really drunk and slept with a guy I’d never met before. We didn’t use a condom. Now I’m scared that I might be pregnant. What am I going to do?

Terrified.
Third-year

*****

Dear Terrified

You’re playing Russian Roulette with your life. Get down to a sexual wellness clinic immediately and ask for the morning-after pill. They may also prescribe a course of antibiotics and ARVs to deal with any STD you may have picked up.

Next time listen to Uncle Themba and switch to sparkling water before you get so drunk that you do something stupid.

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