Being conventionally fashionable is hard. It can be expensive, it can be inaccessible, it can make you feel like you can't dress how you’d like to dress.

Before you get over zealous, and agree to a way-to-good-to-be-true agreement, SCOUT OUT YOUR NEXT LANDLORD.

Should Pākehā learn and speak te reo Māori?

I know, shameful right? But what can a boy do when there are literally no other options on campus. It's bad enough that we are in a cost of living crisis as our university cafe prices are continuously rising, but it's worse that, unless we want to venture off on a thirty-minute walk, there are no other options to stop us spending our precious pūtea.

I fought with the idea of talking about my cultural identity, but thought as a half cast, I wouldn’t be able to do this justice. You see, identity is a tricky subject to pinpoint, and to prove this to those reading, I ask you to answer this; who are you, really?

But, as I’m sure with many kiwi kids, the try hard was slowly strangled out of me in favour of seeming cool. This was a big thing in high school, but now that we’re a bit more grown up, why can’t we go back to our try hard selves?!

We sing to make a point, to support each other, to tell stories. We sing to our gods, we sing when we’re sad, and we sing just because we like the sound of our own voices.

As a boy from the Hutt, one of the first things I noticed when I came to uni was how differently people spoke. For me, this was the first ding of the bell on my imposter syndrome journey. As the years have flown by and I’ve slowly come to terms with my place in tertiary education, every so often I hear that dreaded ding and the feeling comes back as strong as it did on day one.

For this Pride issue, our fearless leader Mason nominated me as the chosen gay to write this editorial. Obviously I accepted without question because I've always known I was special and love that I'm finally being treated as such.

For many, the appearance of Matariki signals a time of peace, joy and remembrance. To make sure you don’t forget that, here’s a list of activities you can do to inject some kaupapa Māori into your life in time for 24 June.

Happy birthday to Massive!

Ten(ish) years ago, Matt Shand and the late Cameron Cornelius created Massive Magazine. The origin story of Massive was lowkey epic, but to keep it brief, student media was on the brink of collapsing at Massey, and these two legends fought to keep any reminiscence of a student publication alive.

(See what I did there?)

We’ve all heard of it, or even used it, but the term ‘gaslighting’ has taken the online world by storm.

I hate their stupid names. “Yeastie Boys”, “Dirty Water”, “Stag Semen Stout.” I can’t tell if the industry is taking the piss, or if breweries have gotten away with the most elaborate scam of our generation, but they certainly sell.

Believe it or not, but I’ve always hated writing. If war is hell, creating trashy magazine stories is purgatory. Writing is a long expanse of mental strain and boredom, at the end of which you’re either lifted into the light or, more likely, plunged further into darkness.

For many avid swipers, it can be tricky to decide whether or not to take the plunge with an online stranger, but I’m here to wave a few red flags in your face, to ensure your next hook-up satisfies all your needs. 

I vowed not to flood Massive Magazine with Covid-19 content this year, but here I am, about to give you my personal recount of me getting Covid-19. I know many readers will have had a similar experience to me, but this is more for those who have yet to catch the bug!

Based on economic and social data along with people’s assessment of their own happiness, the UN-sponsored World Happiness Report reminds us that, despite our troubles, we have a lot to be grateful for… right?

Massey University, and other bodies of power, reiterate that they want to engage with students, but when asked why, far too often the answer is that “youth are the future” or that we “need to empower the future leaders”. Both of these statements fail to recognise the agency young individuals have, and the proximity we have to problems that affect us the most.