As an intern, you soon learn that nothing is beneath you. If you’re asked to lick the ground upon which your colleagues walk, you do it. And if you so much as breathe in a somehow confrontational or even disrespectful way, you can be sure to hear all about your unprofessionalism shortly afterwards.
Now, here’s the funny thing, most office interns will, 9 out of 10 times, receive bitchy and self-esteem shattering comments from the women inhabiting the office. Yet the icing on the cake is that you can’t win! You’re either prettier than them and therefore pose as a threat, or you’re not prettier enough and therefore are not worth a second of their egotistical time.
Working with men does pose its problems as well, such as sexual harassment, screaming and all round unpleasant behaviour due to a level of testosterone that we (always calm and evenly hormonal women, yeah right) simply cannot understand. No, we’re much too complex to lower ourselves to a primitive level of behavioural setbacks. As women, we tend to act as mind ninjas, attacking our target in their vulnerable state, with small insignificant comments that later eat away at their core and cause them to rethink everything they once knew.
As an intern, you can expect many a day with remarks such as: “Some things you just can’t learn, even with the amount of practice you’re doing.” Which, dear reader, I can honestly tell you is a woman’s form of in-office-abuse. The classic, ‘give up now, you’re clearly never going to amount to anything,’ line is quite commonly found in any situation where a woman is academically threatened by you.
Now don’t be alarmed, not every single woman in the working world is out to get you and your little dog too. There are always those with a sweet disposition and a caring nature that will show you some compassion when needed. Yet I can, with a heavy heart, guarantee that there will always be at least one woman, with a severe lack of confidence in herself that will resort to picking on the new kid. And to make matters worse, she will be so inconspicuous, so quietly devious, that she will leave no evidence that you can report to a superior. Be prepared for conversations such as: Intern: “I just met this young girl who was over the moon to meet me! She thought it was amazing that she was able to chat to someone who works for her favourite show,” Evil co-worker: “Oh, haha, you obviously didn’t tell her that you’re just the intern!”
Yes, these small throw-away-comments are a dime a dozen with Satan’s little earth walkers. Even strong young women like myself fall prey to these vicious life sucking leeches that feed off your being. I must say, dear reader, that there were many a time when I could have launched my computer across the room and hit my own life sucking leech, square in the jaw. There was never a day that I wished someone harm, other than my last day. As I was called in to discuss my time (at what had started out as my dream internship) I was shattered into pieces as fault after fault was laid out before me, courtesy of my wonderful co-worker. Yet as my dreams of becoming a writer were slowly diminished, compared to others and finally the idea for my future was laughed at, I realised that none of these women would decide my fate. Let them laugh. Let them tell me that my writing style is not good enough for them nor do they think that writing is something you can learn – you can either do it, or you can’t, as I was so blatantly told. I walked out feeling pretty damn wretched and almost willing to believe that I was the emotional and unprofessional person they had described and then I realised that yes, I had to keep my cool when working with people I couldn’t stand, and yes, I don’t write in a quirky manner coated in sparkles and fluff, but no one is going to tell me that I can’t do something that I love.
So, prospective intern, I leave you with this: Do what you love. Take the good with the bad, change your attitude where necessary, but never and I mean never, give up on yourself because a few people dislike what you do. Accept criticism. Learn from your mistakes. Accept advice. And follow your dreams no matter where they may lead you.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Never Be Afraid to Dream Big!
So some international band has made it big, again. Big surprise there. But what about South African music? Are we so far removed from our own beautiful country that we all long to live the American Dream? Is it possible that we keep letting talent slip through our fingers, forcing them to put their dreams on hold because we can’t give their demo’s the time of day?
Our media screams out the achievements of the beautiful and international while saving a ¼ page at the back, under the adverts for diet pills and exotic dancers, for our own brilliant musicians. How can we - a country of diversity and sheer resilience – bow down to those across the ocean? To follow America, we’ll have to give up our originality, gain an immense amount of weight, open a Mac Donald’s on every street corner and make sure that we pollute every inch of green land available to us and any neighbouring country.
OK,so maybe that’s a slightly harsh view on the land of cellulite and fast food but how wrong am I really?
As South African’s, we’ve had the world watch us like monkeys at a zoo, yet we triumphed. We’ve got a government with the education level of a 10 year old, but their no G. Bush. We’ve had more trials and tribulations than success but we pull through every time as a nation. Why should our music be any different?
This is not to point fingers and scream blue murder at the nation’s inhabitants. Of course I listen to international bands. I laugh, cry, dance and fall asleep to some of my favourite tracks that are right out of the heart of America. Yet the talent that we hide from the rest of the world, hide right here under our mountains and plateau, is criminal. We need to set them free, throw them out there and let them take the world by storm with the extremity of South African vasbyt!
Who better than to dream big and succeed than us? Who else can say that they have come from a nation ripped to shreds and stitched back together all in under 100 years? Join the revolution. Support South African music in every shape and form.
And to get you started, try out ALconGINE on Facebook and Dream Big.
Our media screams out the achievements of the beautiful and international while saving a ¼ page at the back, under the adverts for diet pills and exotic dancers, for our own brilliant musicians. How can we - a country of diversity and sheer resilience – bow down to those across the ocean? To follow America, we’ll have to give up our originality, gain an immense amount of weight, open a Mac Donald’s on every street corner and make sure that we pollute every inch of green land available to us and any neighbouring country.
OK,so maybe that’s a slightly harsh view on the land of cellulite and fast food but how wrong am I really?
As South African’s, we’ve had the world watch us like monkeys at a zoo, yet we triumphed. We’ve got a government with the education level of a 10 year old, but their no G. Bush. We’ve had more trials and tribulations than success but we pull through every time as a nation. Why should our music be any different?
This is not to point fingers and scream blue murder at the nation’s inhabitants. Of course I listen to international bands. I laugh, cry, dance and fall asleep to some of my favourite tracks that are right out of the heart of America. Yet the talent that we hide from the rest of the world, hide right here under our mountains and plateau, is criminal. We need to set them free, throw them out there and let them take the world by storm with the extremity of South African vasbyt!
Who better than to dream big and succeed than us? Who else can say that they have come from a nation ripped to shreds and stitched back together all in under 100 years? Join the revolution. Support South African music in every shape and form.
And to get you started, try out ALconGINE on Facebook and Dream Big.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Denims are a Girls Best Friend
SOMETIMES A PAIR OF GREAT JEANS ARE ALL A GIRL REALLY NEEDS
As we grow from tiny curious little people into the beautiful women we are destined to become, one thing remains forever needed, our jeans.
We fall off our first bicycles in them, get our first kiss in them, cry our hearts out to love songs that rip at our heart strings, we make friends, lose friends, take risks and we even learn our most important life lessons in them.
Our old Faithfull’s are always quietly waiting and watching until the day we need them in order to feel secure, sexy or even maybe a little bit ferocious.
The right pair can last you a lifetime, while others play their part for a short time. Perhaps suiting a new fashion trend, mood or time in our lives. They allow us to be confidently casual or elegantly beautiful. They comfort us when we need a hug from an old friend. They shelter us from terrible outfits and cover our ridiculous sunburns, tanning disasters and unshaved legs.
A pair of jeans are much more than any other item we purchase. They hold memories. They tell our story. Every pair fades and unravels differently, showing others sides of ourselves that we sometimes hide.
As every stylist will tell you, jeans are a staple item to any woman’s wardrobe, what they don’t tell you is that they form a more important role in your life than you could ever imagine.
We look ridiculous as we dance about trying to squeeze into them, jumping up and down and throwing ourselves onto the bed as we pull them on. Once we’re wearing them though, they transform us into confident, stylish individuals who can rock onto any scene and walk it like a catwalk ramp.
Our jeans remain a constant in our lives more so than the men we choose to fill it with. They will always be the ones that you mop your tears up in and the ones you have the most laughs in. Jeans really are, a girl’s best friend.
As we grow from tiny curious little people into the beautiful women we are destined to become, one thing remains forever needed, our jeans.
We fall off our first bicycles in them, get our first kiss in them, cry our hearts out to love songs that rip at our heart strings, we make friends, lose friends, take risks and we even learn our most important life lessons in them.
Our old Faithfull’s are always quietly waiting and watching until the day we need them in order to feel secure, sexy or even maybe a little bit ferocious.
The right pair can last you a lifetime, while others play their part for a short time. Perhaps suiting a new fashion trend, mood or time in our lives. They allow us to be confidently casual or elegantly beautiful. They comfort us when we need a hug from an old friend. They shelter us from terrible outfits and cover our ridiculous sunburns, tanning disasters and unshaved legs.
A pair of jeans are much more than any other item we purchase. They hold memories. They tell our story. Every pair fades and unravels differently, showing others sides of ourselves that we sometimes hide.
As every stylist will tell you, jeans are a staple item to any woman’s wardrobe, what they don’t tell you is that they form a more important role in your life than you could ever imagine.
We look ridiculous as we dance about trying to squeeze into them, jumping up and down and throwing ourselves onto the bed as we pull them on. Once we’re wearing them though, they transform us into confident, stylish individuals who can rock onto any scene and walk it like a catwalk ramp.
Our jeans remain a constant in our lives more so than the men we choose to fill it with. They will always be the ones that you mop your tears up in and the ones you have the most laughs in. Jeans really are, a girl’s best friend.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Redemption For Couch Potatoes
There are holes in our wallets that on a regular basis, seem to swallow coins, scribbled down phone numbers and coupons for that free ice-cream on your tenth visit, but most commonly, gym membership cards which are sucked up like that pasta you had for dinner... and for breakfast the next day. You try to persuade yourself to find it, swearing that it was right behind the Woolies and Macro cards, to the left of your gold express credit card ... or was it to the right of the all-you-can-eat-pizza-Tuesday coupon? Whatever the case, a sudden flourish of relaxation washes over you in waves as you realise that you no longer have a reason or the means to squeeze into your dusty, forgotten gym clothes while prancing around like the village idiot in a gym where only the skinny and beautiful seem to go. Where are normal people with a zest for life and exercise supposed to go then? The answer is abundantly clear, Redemption Martial Arts and Fitness Centre.
Redemption is located on Bree Street, Cape Town and is fast becoming the hottest new means to the hottest new you. The classes are vibrant, intense and guaranteed to work up a sweat. The evening group classes run for an hour each and consist of two session from which to choose from. First off there is a fast paced, music filled fitness class which blends authentic kickboxing training with intense calorie burning exercises and resistance training. The non-stop routine is filled with energy and power and may seem daunting to any couch potato, but under the watchful eye and expertise of pro fighter, Arran Mckenzie, the trials of exercise turn into an hour of sheer enjoyment and the burning of over1200 calories. Without the use of weights or machines, Arran turns your body into a portable gym by using your own body weight to tone and strengthen your limbs. By including some great beats to get your heart racing and blood pumping, you’ll be rearing to push beyond the limits of strength you thought you had to an entirely new level of fitness. Not only will you see and feel a difference in your body that night but the endorphin rush will leave you feeling rejuvenated and ready to survive another day in the concrete jungle.
The second class is focused around the training to kick some serious ass in the ring as a professional or amateur kick boxer but this doesn’t mean that you have to jump fist first into the ring. The class focuses on technique, stance and power while building muscle and taking names. It may not burn up the calories to the extent of the first class; this is a session not to be taken lightly. With strength exercises, overwhelming punching bags and a routine to fire up even the most timid of individuals, one not only gains toned muscles, strength and the body of a god but also a higher level of self-respect, discipline and a love for intense training. Fuelled once again with heart racing music, your body and mind are put to the test and you’re left, crawling back for more.
This is the redemption that all couch potatoes and those just looking for a fun, exuberant new road to fitness have been looking for. Redemption will help you to gain your body’s full potential without the fuss, crowds, machines and rush of a gym. Here you are treated as though you are attending a one on one training session and are pushed to give it your all. Yet if your couch has left some extra cushioning on your sides and a full one on one session is what you need, Arran can supply you with just that. Join today for a more fulfilled you tomorrow.
Redemption is located on Bree Street, Cape Town and is fast becoming the hottest new means to the hottest new you. The classes are vibrant, intense and guaranteed to work up a sweat. The evening group classes run for an hour each and consist of two session from which to choose from. First off there is a fast paced, music filled fitness class which blends authentic kickboxing training with intense calorie burning exercises and resistance training. The non-stop routine is filled with energy and power and may seem daunting to any couch potato, but under the watchful eye and expertise of pro fighter, Arran Mckenzie, the trials of exercise turn into an hour of sheer enjoyment and the burning of over1200 calories. Without the use of weights or machines, Arran turns your body into a portable gym by using your own body weight to tone and strengthen your limbs. By including some great beats to get your heart racing and blood pumping, you’ll be rearing to push beyond the limits of strength you thought you had to an entirely new level of fitness. Not only will you see and feel a difference in your body that night but the endorphin rush will leave you feeling rejuvenated and ready to survive another day in the concrete jungle.
The second class is focused around the training to kick some serious ass in the ring as a professional or amateur kick boxer but this doesn’t mean that you have to jump fist first into the ring. The class focuses on technique, stance and power while building muscle and taking names. It may not burn up the calories to the extent of the first class; this is a session not to be taken lightly. With strength exercises, overwhelming punching bags and a routine to fire up even the most timid of individuals, one not only gains toned muscles, strength and the body of a god but also a higher level of self-respect, discipline and a love for intense training. Fuelled once again with heart racing music, your body and mind are put to the test and you’re left, crawling back for more.
This is the redemption that all couch potatoes and those just looking for a fun, exuberant new road to fitness have been looking for. Redemption will help you to gain your body’s full potential without the fuss, crowds, machines and rush of a gym. Here you are treated as though you are attending a one on one training session and are pushed to give it your all. Yet if your couch has left some extra cushioning on your sides and a full one on one session is what you need, Arran can supply you with just that. Join today for a more fulfilled you tomorrow.
Time Defying Trends
With well over 8 billion people inhabiting the planet, having your own style is almost as unique as breathing. This is not to say that everyone walks around looking like a lost twin but odds are, somewhere down the line, there is a unique soul that looks suspiciously like you. This is not cancelling out the notion of the individual but with today’s trends changing as fast as they arrived, it’s almost impossible to get a grip on one idea before its gone again. So we snatch whatever we can from the shelves, hoping it will remain stylish long enough for us to wear it in before some designer, over their morning coffee decides that a drastic new collection is a must have for the working woman.
Yet as we watch trends come and go, we find that some departures come as an immense relief, while others leave their mark in the following seasons collection allowing us a sigh of relief as we realise that we own at least three trendy pieces in our wardrobes. However, on the other end of the scale, there are women who have distaste for fashion and go about their day, ignoring the trends, thus by fighting the system, they create their own trend and fall right back into society’s grasp.
Are there really no time defying trends that the working woman can latch onto? How about the essential LBD? A simple, versatile piece that every woman can fall back into as her safety net for any occasion. By remembering to have it simple, elegant and well cut, can allow one to never fall out of favour with any seasonal trend. Or how about a pair of well cut dark washed jeans? Flattering from top to bottom, they allow the wearer to transcend from day to night without a faltering step.
Yet just as they may fill your cupboards and ease the spending, the only trend that really will defy time is the confidence you wrap around your shoulders, which covers you from head to toe like a beautiful winter’s coat. This accessory although invisible to the wearer, is seen and admired by all those lucky enough to catch a glimpse of it. The art of confidence is not as tricky as it seems nor is it gained by having an uncaring air about you.
Confidence is the ability to believe in yourself. The power to accept everything that surrounds you as an individual and place it before you for everyone to see, without clawing it back in to be hidden. This is a rather large and daunting task yet not impossible. 8 out of every 3000 women will grow up to look like supermodels. 2 out of 5 girls will develop an eating disorder and 1001 out of 1000 statistics are made up, so there’s no excuse to lack confidence based on numbers just as there’s no reason to not love every difference you bring to the world through your body.
Without confidence, even a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes, will look drab and worthless. An architecturally designed run-way piece, will be nothing more than well arranged fabric. Confidence is a lifestyle choice that dictates how we’re perceived by the world. Any outfit, trendy or not, expensive or budget can look phenomenal if you love yourself enough to carry it off without a care in the world.
So stay eternally fashionable, love yourself.
Yet as we watch trends come and go, we find that some departures come as an immense relief, while others leave their mark in the following seasons collection allowing us a sigh of relief as we realise that we own at least three trendy pieces in our wardrobes. However, on the other end of the scale, there are women who have distaste for fashion and go about their day, ignoring the trends, thus by fighting the system, they create their own trend and fall right back into society’s grasp.
Are there really no time defying trends that the working woman can latch onto? How about the essential LBD? A simple, versatile piece that every woman can fall back into as her safety net for any occasion. By remembering to have it simple, elegant and well cut, can allow one to never fall out of favour with any seasonal trend. Or how about a pair of well cut dark washed jeans? Flattering from top to bottom, they allow the wearer to transcend from day to night without a faltering step.
Yet just as they may fill your cupboards and ease the spending, the only trend that really will defy time is the confidence you wrap around your shoulders, which covers you from head to toe like a beautiful winter’s coat. This accessory although invisible to the wearer, is seen and admired by all those lucky enough to catch a glimpse of it. The art of confidence is not as tricky as it seems nor is it gained by having an uncaring air about you.
Confidence is the ability to believe in yourself. The power to accept everything that surrounds you as an individual and place it before you for everyone to see, without clawing it back in to be hidden. This is a rather large and daunting task yet not impossible. 8 out of every 3000 women will grow up to look like supermodels. 2 out of 5 girls will develop an eating disorder and 1001 out of 1000 statistics are made up, so there’s no excuse to lack confidence based on numbers just as there’s no reason to not love every difference you bring to the world through your body.
Without confidence, even a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes, will look drab and worthless. An architecturally designed run-way piece, will be nothing more than well arranged fabric. Confidence is a lifestyle choice that dictates how we’re perceived by the world. Any outfit, trendy or not, expensive or budget can look phenomenal if you love yourself enough to carry it off without a care in the world.
So stay eternally fashionable, love yourself.
Perky Investments of Today, Sagging Stocks of Tomorrow
In today’s society bigger is not only better, it’s everything. More is the new less, perkier is just quite simply, unsurpassed by any means and fuller and bouncier take on their very own impossible new heights that confound even the most intricate sciences. Outmatching all rival aspects that complete the average Joe’s daily lifetime needs, plastic surgery has become the means to a fulfilled life for thousands of individuals around the globe.
“Under the knife” is fast becoming a household term, thrown casually into conversation as topics of dislikes over body image and self esteem arise. With the simplest flaw corrected within a matter of slices, men and women alike are fast turning our old age homes into comic relief for sci-fi writers. Colour butterflies that once fluttered free are now drowned, trampled and lost between folds and creases while above, flying high, hang the monstrosities in all their perky perfection.
Gone are the days of fragile old grannies crouching over tea while reminiscing over photographs of loved ones but rather replaced with back supports for the perky investments that pull at still fragile backs with the weight of silicone that resists the force of gravity. But what happens once skin tissue has lost all its strength and elasticity and your gravity defying appendages finally give way to the science of “what goes up, must come down” and you’re left with sagging stocks? They become folded and crammed into an ity-bity bra that once upon a time turned many heads in awe and admiration but now goes about setting off one’s gag reflex.
Yet as the ‘misguided’ youth of a lost generation, the masses flock to exchange genetic wrong doings for the ultimate body as perceived by the media that so eloquently decide how we as the majority should see ourselves. Flaws invisible to an outsider are blown out of proportion in our heads to the extent that exercise can no longer cure 5kg’s of excess body weight but rather ripping and slicing fat from skin and muscle by means of a metal rod is the answer we’ve been so desperately searching for. This process of vandalising your insides is given the name of liposuction so that one may feel secure about the decision to tarnish oneself with internal bleeding and bruising.
But how much blame can we, as society, really take for the dramatic increase for the demand of plastic surgery? Are we the reason that the media catapults their beliefs upon us, forcing us to conform to their predetermined ways or are we the inventors of the styles that pass over us like plagues? Whoever the culprits are, it is certain that we fuel one another, feeding the desires as they surface from the darkness of our well-being. The media does however have a firm grasp on the situation that we call our lives, forcing us as a unit to express our individuality through any means necessary while containing us enough that we, oblivious to the greater scheme, conform enough to keep news selling. Their power as a minority to manipulate can only go but to show that the impossible does not need the majority in order to be maintained.
Whatever reasons one may find to ignite the desire for plastic surgery, we can all rest easy knowing that when the wrinkles develop and the Alzheimer’s sets in, we will always be the generation covered in colour and perky to the end.
“Under the knife” is fast becoming a household term, thrown casually into conversation as topics of dislikes over body image and self esteem arise. With the simplest flaw corrected within a matter of slices, men and women alike are fast turning our old age homes into comic relief for sci-fi writers. Colour butterflies that once fluttered free are now drowned, trampled and lost between folds and creases while above, flying high, hang the monstrosities in all their perky perfection.
Gone are the days of fragile old grannies crouching over tea while reminiscing over photographs of loved ones but rather replaced with back supports for the perky investments that pull at still fragile backs with the weight of silicone that resists the force of gravity. But what happens once skin tissue has lost all its strength and elasticity and your gravity defying appendages finally give way to the science of “what goes up, must come down” and you’re left with sagging stocks? They become folded and crammed into an ity-bity bra that once upon a time turned many heads in awe and admiration but now goes about setting off one’s gag reflex.
Yet as the ‘misguided’ youth of a lost generation, the masses flock to exchange genetic wrong doings for the ultimate body as perceived by the media that so eloquently decide how we as the majority should see ourselves. Flaws invisible to an outsider are blown out of proportion in our heads to the extent that exercise can no longer cure 5kg’s of excess body weight but rather ripping and slicing fat from skin and muscle by means of a metal rod is the answer we’ve been so desperately searching for. This process of vandalising your insides is given the name of liposuction so that one may feel secure about the decision to tarnish oneself with internal bleeding and bruising.
But how much blame can we, as society, really take for the dramatic increase for the demand of plastic surgery? Are we the reason that the media catapults their beliefs upon us, forcing us to conform to their predetermined ways or are we the inventors of the styles that pass over us like plagues? Whoever the culprits are, it is certain that we fuel one another, feeding the desires as they surface from the darkness of our well-being. The media does however have a firm grasp on the situation that we call our lives, forcing us as a unit to express our individuality through any means necessary while containing us enough that we, oblivious to the greater scheme, conform enough to keep news selling. Their power as a minority to manipulate can only go but to show that the impossible does not need the majority in order to be maintained.
Whatever reasons one may find to ignite the desire for plastic surgery, we can all rest easy knowing that when the wrinkles develop and the Alzheimer’s sets in, we will always be the generation covered in colour and perky to the end.
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