My mind was clear, my emotions were zen.

Twas long in the past, say maybe three weeks?

When I actually was rested and knew the word “sleep.”

Now Swot Vac is here and he’s brought his friend stress,

Anxiety arrives soon, so too does unrest.

They stare at you harshly, they tear up your head

Wave goodbye to your sanity, you’re emotionally ded.

But then out of no-where, a saviour shows up,

He’s big and he’s strong and he likes to fight rough.

He annihilates anxiety, destroys stress with a slap

He’s the mother of all heroes, he’s the mighty Power Nap!

He steals from the rested and gives to the tired,

He comes to the rescue when you’re feeling most wired.

He gets you out of trouble when you’re just about to snap,

Cause when the going gets tough, the tough take a nap.

P.s. On a serious note tho, good luck with your exams and shit fam, and just remember that

Power Nap is always there to save the day.

The post A Poem Expressing My Gratitude Towards Power Naps appeared first on IH Globe.

There are layers to each of us, and I’m not talking about muscle layers. I’m talking about the layers that make up our personality. There are things we don’t show to everyone else whether it is for fear of judgment or maybe just the fear of deviating from the norm. We, as humans, have this innate ability to categorize people, which does come in helpful for processing information but not so much for social purposes.

Shrek in all his wisdom declared that ogres are like onions, and I’m inclined to not only agree but to extend this statement to humans. We are all complex individuals with a variety of likes and dislikes and no single all encompassing personality trait. It’s time we stop assuming, and appreciate the layers in each of us. Let’s not determine the capabilities or passions of a person solely in regards to their choice of course, what sport they play, the kind of music they listen to, or even what personality they seem to give off. If a person is not talkative on the outside, maybe try and figure out what it is they like to talk about, maybe they like Shrek.

Look for the layers inside people, and take the time to look at yourself. Find out what makes you an onion.

The post What Makes You An Onion? appeared first on IH Globe.

Two weeks ago the residents of Wadham 3 ventured down the deserted, “other” staircase, with no intentions of finding anything. There, at the bottom of the stairs, they found an emergency sign with no apparent purpose resting on the floor. It was retrieved by one of the residents who brought it back up to it’s new home on third floor. It was then placed outside the door of the floor tutor, serving as the catalyst for the events to come. This door belonged to Justin Smallwood, a tutor, but more importantly a victim. Over the following days the sign was moved around the floor to various positions by an unknown source, until it has found a permanent residence in the bathtub. While this may seem an isolated event, it was far from it, and so began the Buttergate Scandal.

What is Buttergate you may be asking? Well, even the residents of Wadham 3 don’t completely know. Last week a packet of high table butter was mysteriously placed on top of Smallwood’s handle. Smallwood, once again the victim, is then suspected to have moved the butter to the other resident’s door handles. The butter has now, and still continues to make its rounds around the door handles of Wadham 3. Has the victim become the perpetuator? Are all the resident’s involved in this conspiracy?  All that is known is that Nathanial Brady wants answers.

So do we Nathanial, so do we.

In a continuation of events, the name and poem signs that were placed on our doors by none other than our beloved O-weekers have been targeted. The signs have been moved around the floor to doors that do not associate with those names. This can only be described as the purest form of anarchy. How will we know which resident lives where? Will Hugo assume Carrie’s identity? It is yet to be seen.

Loaded glances and raised eyebrows have been noted amongst a few of the residents, perhaps a sign of more to come. Watch out, Wadham 3.

The post What’s Happening on Wadham 3 appeared first on IH Globe.

“It all started with Sam posting on facebook. 100 likes for me to go vegan for a week. I quickly rushed to take it down but ‘it’ had already gathered wide public attention. Originally, I did not want to partake in the challenge but after the encouragement of many of my friends and fellow IHers I decided to consider the idea. I decided to change the challenge to be vegetarian as it would have been easier on catercare and cheaper.”

“For me, this isn’t a health thing but a friendship bonding activity. We are all in this together and without them I would never do such a thing. Our friendship bond has grown and our waist size has shrunk through this adversity. However, I’m thankful that they also want me to learn to love vegetables and become more healthy as well.

My companions did not need to accompany me through this week, however, they understand I am VERY against veges and their support is something I treasure incredibly.”

“My hatred for vegetables has always been a part of me ever since I was small. There’s something about the texture and taste. The minute it touches my mouth I feel this rush of EHUEHEFHLKSDJKNS. When I eat it in my mouth, I just want to EUuuuUUUUH. My parents forced me to eat them when I was younger, and hoped that I would eventually grow out of my meat-love passion. However, I’m proud to say I still love meat just as much as I did before.”

“An important cute fact: I go to the toilet very regularly and have never had the risk of constipation. The toilet and all its business has never been a problem for me. I do think that this is due to the fact that I love fruits as well as celery and carrot fruit juice. Oh, yeah. Just thinking about celery and carrot juice makes me excited. It’s both cleansing for the soul and the bowels.”

Do you have anything to say to your friends and supporters through this time?

“Yeah. I won’t let you down.”

The post Humans of IH – Joshua appeared first on IH Globe.

241 Royal Parade

Parkville, VIC, 3052

Beyoncé Giselle Knowles Carter

Saviour of Music and Pop Culture

Parkwood Entertainment, New York City

29th March 2017

Dear Mrs. Carter, I’m writing this to express my interest to become one of your soon-to-be-born twins. I found out about this opportunity as I happened to have your Instagram account on alert in my phone.

I believe I would be Irreplaceable in this position for a few reasons. Firstly, I have extensive experience representing and defending Your brand, such as signing up for a Tidal account immediately after Lemonade dropped. Another example would be for all the times that I personally e-mailed the Academy myself, whenever your brilliant work is passed on in favour of another “artist”. (The Academy, however, has only responded once, calling me “Crazy in Love” with you. If I Were a Boy, my logical reasonings would never be deduced to that conclusion.) Secondly, I consider myself a perfectionist; I won’t stop until everything is ***Flawless and ready in Formation. Thirdly, I can tell you that we will go along very well, as I always carry hot sauce in my bag, swag.

Being one of your twins would be the greatest opportunity to ever arise since that time Doughnut Time opened a pop-up shop in the CBD and gave out free doughnuts to everyone. Directly learning from the woman who self-handedly created booties on TV would be the highest honour anyone could bestow upon me. Not to mention, I admire the fact that you’re the ultimate Survivor, as you sacrificed yourself, selflessly, carrying two other people’s careers for years before finally breaking free. Last but not least, I wouldn’t be who I am now if you have never shown the world that Girls, yes Girls, can indeed Run the World.

I’m available for interviews from 7-11 pm most days, GMT + 11. The best way to contact me would be my instagram @theagathacelia. Slide into my DM’s and I will screenshot it and send it to everyone I know.

Sincerely,

Agatha Santosa (soon to be Knowles Carter)

The post Beyonce Twin Cover Letter – Agatha Santosa appeared first on IH Globe.

The post Assassins: Doom By Spoon appeared first on IH Globe.

My name is Detective Inspector Stanley Terry Duncan (You can call me D.I. STD for short) and I am here to inform you of my investigation into the absence of condoms in IH bathrooms. These have been my observations so far:

10:00am – Condon machine found to be empty

12:23pm – Condom machine still empty

4:14pm – No condoms present 


9:47pm – Fell asleep for an hour only to wake and find … the condom machine still empty

11:59pm – Got my hand stuck in the machine trying to search for condoms. Unfortunately none were found.

You may be wondering why I, Detective Inspector STD, put so much time into investigating the disappearance of condoms in IH bathrooms. I will tell you why, because I love sex.

That is, I love safe sex. And you may ask me how safe sex differs from normal sex. And I would say that during safe sex, contraception is used to prevent the exchange of semen and vaginal fluid between individuals. You may also ask, what is the point of contraception? You may believe as long as you are having sex, who cares about protection.

Aha! You are wrong! I, Detective Inspector STD, am here to tell you that if you do not use protection, all IHers run the risk of getting pregnant. And by all IHers, I mean females only.

GASP! I hear you say you don’t want to get pregnant. Solution: Use contraception You may think that is all.

Guys may think, ‘hey, I can’t get pregnant, so who needs contraception’. True, but you may catch a sexually transmitted disease. OH MY!! Nobody wants an STD (and by the way some are incurable). For example, Chlamydia can lead to infertility and HPV to cancer. I hear you saying you never want to have sex again as you don’t want to get infected?

Solution: Use contraception It scares me to think 39% of sexually active students admit to only using condoms ‘sometimes’. You may have been part one of the 39%. But, thanks to my investigations, you now know how to prevent against pregnancy and STDs.

Solution: Use contraception

Well guys, I think my work here is done. If you need me, you will find all over Melbourne, on the trail of the condom thief (and by that I really mean talking to front officeabout getting the condom machine refilled).

Stay safe in bed guys,

Detective Inspector STD 

The post Four Corners on a Globe: World Shortage of Condoms appeared first on IH Globe.

It was a Thursday morning. 8:15am. The Dining Hall. Two seniors were arguing over the Israel-Palestine conflict, ironic because they were both eating bacon, and watching the latest PR disaster of the Liberal Government on the TV hanging above them. Everybody secretly wished instead of the news, they played Disney movies like Mulan and the Lion King. But then too many students would miss their classes.

They were part of the infamous Breakfast at Tiffany’s Gang. A ruthless batch of scoundrels that wake up before 8am every morning, just to have breakfast. It’s where they plot their dastardly schemes. They’re the only ones who know about the secret Nutella deliveries every Wednesday morning. The secret common room on 1^st floor Wadham. Disturb their routine and they might just push you off a building.

The leader, Rohit, was also the President of IH. Like Abbott, he had gone mad with power, proclaiming High Table to be the Pride Lands. He was always there at dinner times, looking over the kingdom, ruled with an iron fist and spectacles. His election was the stuff of legends. He’d only decided to run moments before the polls closed. It was a landslide victory. The local newspaper speculated that students were too afraid to vote against him. Intimidation, co-ersion, humour, self deprecation. Those were the tactics of the powerful. It lulled you into believing in the vision, then your little sister would be kidnapped.

None of the rival gangs would dare challenge their power. Their strength, like Superman, came from the sun. Even PC was terrified of them, choosing to have tea in the office.

A fresher, a small girl from the Phillipines walked into breakfast, sobbing. She’d just came from the Games Room, the place everyone goes for a good cry and a session of MarioKart when life gets overwhelming. She was experiencing the post OWeek Depression. It’s a well documented phenomena afflicting IHers at the end of Oweek. When they realise they’re spending their parents money to study not to have fun with friends. Symptoms include, paranoia, fear of cutlery, sadness, flu like symptoms. The local psychiatrist pretty much lives of it.

Another girl walked in, she was from Jamaica with thick frizzy hair. Everybody called her Goldilocks. She hated that nickname. It started when people found out she’d complained to Catercare about there not being enough Porridge in the mornings. And about the size of her bed. The name stuck ever since.

They both sat at a table away from the others. They still didn’t really know the seniors. And so were intimidated. They shouldn’t have been, everyone is pretty friendly round these parts. Especially in the mornings. They sat with Tae Kwan Do, a towering Singaporean guy who’d just come out of a stint in the military. Everyone thought he was a General.

Nobody knew how much of the war stories were true. They all were. Especially the ones about paperwork. They all sat, staring into their french toast, sadness drifting over them. They thought back to Oweek and the good times. The memories. The events, cascading into each other. Before the routine settled in. They all wished every week was Oweek.

Tae remembered his time in the war. Peace, that’s all he wanted. A little part of the world where he can live in peace. And that was breakfast. They all had class soon. 9 am lectures, the worst thing you could do to a uni student.

The post O-Week Blues appeared first on IH Globe.

Where she was from, dancing was a crime, punishable by death and higher taxes from the government. You were only allowed to dance to 3 songs, one was just the name of the Prime Minister on repeat. The other was Gangnam Style. It was a generational thing. If someone caught you dancing, they’d report you to the local Post Office and the next thing you’d be serving out a sentence scrubbing floors with a toothbrush. Your kids would have to as well. And their kids too.

A special shoe was made to help with the dance problem by an aspiring entrepreneur. Whenever you’d feel the beat, the shoe would send 1,000 volts through your leg and you wouldn’t feel like dancing anymore. They were a thriving business until their patent was infringed by Nike and they went out of business.

They were waiting for the CIA week announcement that meant the end of Assassins. The game had been going for the whole week and Akash had barely slept. He was so scared. Thinking that someone would be hiding in his room, he slept in a nearby tree and caught a taxi to uni each day. He gripped his spoon so hard, an indent was visible in his hand. He could just feel he was being watched.

Assassins was a cruel game. A real life Hunger Games where you either kill or be killed, all for the glory of being crowned the victor. The prize wasn’t even that good. A voucher at the local bookstore.

One of the senior couples had gotten each other as targets. It was a real life Mr and Mrs Smith. They’d battled all week until she ruthlessly murdered him in an elevator. Stashed the weapon in a nearby dumpster. The case remains unsolved. 12 people overheard his cries for help. No one responded. She claimed the insurance money later that week.

Another Fresher, a cute French girl called Anaise, who didn’t speak much English was hiding behind the hot chocolate machines. Waiting to strike. Akash would be her victim. He was her prey. She’d been searching for him all week. Even went to the trouble to look him up on Nexus. She knew everything about him, his name, his room number, his degree. The kind of information only the most elite of governments compile. People like the Mossad.

She was an Arts student and was reading Infinite Jest for an assignment, wondering what the hell was going on. She wondered if it was her English or if the book was just confusing. She figured it was her English. The moment would come anytime now. She was good at math and had stacked the deck of cards. When he drew the King, he’d have to Go Fish and for the briefest of moments put the spoon down…Any second now.

Akash drew a King and wondered what to do with it. “Do any of you have any Kings?” Go fish they said in unison, and smiled. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Anaise approach him. She was carrying a hot chocolate and waived. He smiled back. He really liked her, they’d bonded in Oweek over their mutual dislike for fluoride toothpaste. He was playing it cool, but in a couple weeks would ask her out. To him, she was perfect.

She said hi. He said hi. “Winning?” She asked, grinning. “Nope,” he said laying his cards down to draw, a look of defeat in his eyes. She lunged. He looked down and a spoon was protruding from his abdomen, eyes wide.

They never spoke after that. The pain was just too much.

The post The Last Fresher appeared first on IH Globe.

A witness to one of the murders has stated that they were threatened by the killer, who is quoted in saying “I’ll get you all, spoon enough”

The post Wanted for Murder – The White Spoon appeared first on IH Globe.