First Year's we have some learning to do!

By Khushi Jadhav

Okay I have a confession to make. 

I think about what I am going to wear on campus a lot. 

Like a lot a lot. 

In my head, I honestly imagine university to be a place where I can finally let my Pinterest board come to life (especially after having to wear a mundane school uniform for 5 days a week for 12 years straight).  Also, I feel like I have to somehow compensate for my absolute nightmare of a past when it comes to fashion. Besides, wearing something other than sweatpants makes my train ride to campus a little less ‘boring’ and a little more ‘main character energy’. 

In my first semester at Monash Caufield, I noticed a couple of things when it comes to the realm of clothing, fits and aesthetics. The energy we give off at Caulfield is overall ‘indie’ or ‘alternative’ with hints of ‘private school-my dad owns three investment properties’ vibes. 

I was fascinated by the number of people who had those Crumpler messenger bags, wearing Tyler the Creator merch and would always be holding a soy latte in one hand. But don’t get me wrong, I was humbly reminded of my private school past when I saw the swarm of claw clips, every Mr Winston hoodie imaginable and that one vertical stripe Guess T-shirt (which I swear says a lot about a guy without ‘actually’ saying too much). 

In response to my analysis, I adjusted my week’s outfits to embody this more skater boy, effortless/fashion student look-you know to see what all the hype was about. 

BTW before I keep going I literally fell in love with the style with the Crumpler bag. So, I got tempted and got one the next day! Don’t judge me-it was a ‘practical’ and ‘responsible’ purchase. I know all of you have done the same, so don’t even come for me!

Anyway, I had a morning class the next day at 11 am. I decided that I would come an hour early, get some study in and maybe go over the readings I was supposed to do before the tutorial. 

My getup for the day was comprised of;

  • Gold hoops 

  • Tight black knit vest

  • Flared low waisted Levis jeans

  • A loose but not too loose braid in my hair 

  • Layered necklaces 

  • Converse 

  • Black Headphones 

And of course my Crumpler messenger bag. 

Because I was in a nostalgic mood that day, I chose to listen to the Highschool Musical 3 track as I puffed up the orange stairs to the highest level in the library to study. As I struggled to find a free space to study (no one told me it was going to be crowded like a Harry Styles concert at 10am!), I felt something. I felt everybody’s eyes glued on to me. At first I thought it was because my fit was absolute fire, but then I realised I wasn’t at the Met Gala. There was something wrong. I check my top for stains, felt my face for food crumbs and smelled my armpits for stench. Nothing but clean clothes and the aroma of my gatekeep perfume. I found a friend in the distance and sat next to her. I took my headphones off to give her a hug and that’s when I finally realised. My headphones were not connected to my phone! Everyone could hear ‘We are all in this together’ very loud and clear! As a brown girl, I never thought people could tell when we blushed because our complexion would just cover the whole situation. But when I tell you, I blushed so hard that I could see the pink in my cheeks from my reflection in the window next to me. 

Also, you know how I said I was wearing my Crumpler messenger bag, you can guess what happened next. If you have one, you 100% percent understand the pain of opening those puppies up. As I sat down next to my mate, I went to open the messenger bag without much thought and I am then faced with the loudest agonising, velcro sound ever. And just like before, all eyes on me. It was the same feeling that you get when you open a pad in a public bathroom. 

My pink cheeks were painted chrisom red!

But my first years, we live and we learn. 

Much love, 


Friends at Party

Old Friends become New Aquantinces

By Khushi Jadhav

There is a very, very very old saying that claims that ‘old keys won't open new doors’. Despite the countless quotes on friends, career or literally anything that falls under ‘self-care’- it is this particular saying that seems to always stick around. Ask anyone (including your parents) or even someone you would consider ‘older’. They would all agree when I say you are about to witness some serious friendship breakups. I don’t care if you went to Byron Bay, Schoolies or Bali together, it's about to get lonely. You see, losing friends is like dating someone. At first, you feel like you could never be more happy and you pray that this 'social high' never leaves. But then you have to get back too something called ‘life’. And life isn’t pretty a hundred percent of then time. Life needs to be realistic. If we were on this ‘social high’ all the time, I think every company would have thousands of job openings. We simply would not get anything done. It is the same thing with your mates or your so-called friends. You are going to learn quickly when life hits, that that high wont be applicable anymore-it will just be memorable. It is one of the hardest concepts to come to terms with. Because once you’re an adult, you gain a lot of independence and you will outgrow the those high school friends you latched on for social survival. But don’t worry, I am not all negative Nancy. There are friendships that do last. The ones that last are the ones who respect your growth without comprising the definition of the existing friendship. They may not grow at the same rate as you, but they grow with you in a way that their growth cant be seen as unnoticed. It other words, two flowers will grow and one will grow faster because it was exposed to more sun and rain than the second flower. However, the second flower has obviously grown in relative to its own conditions. And what ties these two plants together is one another's repsect for their growth. 

Friendship that last are based on growth and respect. Short term friendships are base on highs, memories and survival. 


by Niaa Pertiwi

Ever since I could remember all I ever wanted to do was move out. I would watch copious amounts of TV shows and movies about teens moving out, being away from their parents and harsh rules, and living the life they want to live. And for me, in more ways than not, it was true; moving out was everything I wanted it to be. It gave me new friends, new opportunities and a new beginning – I finally got to be the person I have always wanted to be, though I never realised that moving out meant dealing with my own emotional baggage too.

Moving out wasn’t always smooth sailing. I had bumps with my mental health and loneliness but I thought this was normal. Who doesn’t miss their family right? I thought that maybe if I go back home and I see my family, this feeling would go away. News flash: it didn’t. When I went back home for the first time since the lockdown ended, I thought I’d be comforted with the warmth and comfort I had been craving since the first day I moved out. However, all I got greeted with was the harsh reality of life – a shell of a room that used to be filled with so much life. It was jarring. I felt like a stranger in my home. Everything that used to be so familiar became strange and I started to relearn the life I used to live. The juxtaposition between the fantasy I had of home I had in my head and the reality of life that was staring back at me. Home isn’t my childhood home where Indonesian dishes consume my senses, however home isn’t in Melbourne, where trucks and trains are my bedtime lullaby. Home is not a place and I don’t think it will ever be a place for a long time. 

Being utterly and completely alone for the first time since my parents gave birth to me was scary. I remember crying for a week when I first lived alone. I honestly thought I was ready, but I realised I was not. I wanted to live by myself and grow up so quickly that now that I’m here, all I want is to be a kid again. Something I had realised is that because I craved for a fresh start and a new beginning so bad, I completely detached myself from the person I used to be. I look back at photos and videos from me a year ago and don’t even recognise that person.  I was so adamant of wanting to “glow-up” from the person I was in high school, I distanced myself from not only my friends and family but from everything that I ever loved and known.  As time went on, the more pressure I put onto myself to change and the more I became detached with myself. Things I loved and hated about myself started blurring into one and there was a fine line between the person I had become and the person I was. I honestly didn’t know who I was anymore. 

I was in this slump for a while. It took a mental toll on me and during this time, I didn’t know what to do.  It was tiring being sad all the time, it was tiring not knowing who I was and what to do. So I took matters into my own hands and did something I was supposed to do a long time ago. I finally looked after myself and gave myself the attention I deserved. I began to take myself out on dates, rediscover old hobbies and find new ones, cut out those in my life who make me unhappy and create new connections with new people. I moved out for not only uni but for me too. To finally experience the life I wanted to live. I had to ditch the fear of the unknown and started to live my life the way I wanted to, allowing myself to take risks and chances and allowing myself to finally be happy. 

I think it’s important to understand that things are supposed to change. It’s important to accept change and that change is normal and completely okay.  The person you were when you walked out of those high school doors from the last time and the person you are right now reading this are two different people and that is okay. Growing hurts. It feels as though throughout highschool, I was trying to find myself and my identity and now 6 years later I am still trying to find myself, but that’s okay. It’s okay not to know. I guess that’s the most fun part of adulthood. It’s finally being the person you’ve always wanted to be.