MAG
MARCH 2015 | VOL. 4 N O . 5
HAVE A GOOD ONE 06
KISSING AND TELLING The Sexpectations
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CONTRIBUTORS EDITOR IN CHIEF
Emma Beckett
ART DIRECTORS
DESIGNERS WRITERS
Curtis te Brinke Eric Schoenberger Jamielyn Mariano Joel Edmiston Jana Pauls Malina Sintnicolaas Melissa D’Angelo Nadia Rompas Peter Ellman Rielle Ullberg
Jacob Colosi Karen Keung
Ally Pelligrino Anna Campbell Autumn Lu Emily Munro Lucy Bilson Mary Anne Cruz Michelle Fok Scott Osborne Thaddeus Miya
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NOTE FROM THE ART DIRECTOR In the middle of the stressful, confusing, deadline-infused final weeks of the semester I’ve realized I should take a moment to appreciate my goodbye issue of Artichoke. After my first year on the design team, I’ve spent the last two school years as Artichoke’s Art Director. I can’t begin to describe how much I appreciate the things I’ve learned through my experience with Artichoke. As well, I can’t describe how wonderful it’s been to be a part of the Winters community in my own special way. Artichoke to me has always been about capturing the energy of Winters and I know it will continue to do so. I know my Co-Director Karen Keung will continue to represent the energetic style of Winters and the team of designers will continue to be passionate about Artichoke. CHEERS, JACOB COLOSI
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EDITORS LETTER This issue marks the end of the 2014/15 school year, and this issue will be my last as Editor-In-Chief. Over the last two years I have had some great adventures, publishes some fantastic articles and stories, worked with some truly talented writers and designers, and now it has come time for me to pass the torch. Mayeesha Cho will be taking over for me as editor in the fall, and I am looking forward to seeing where the Artichoke will go from here! It has already developed so much since it’s inception in 2011 with editor Lindsay Presswell, and since then it has become a well-known fixture at Winters College and across campus. I am so lucky to have been able to work with the wonderful members of Winters College on making this project what it is today, and I can’t wait to see where we all end up!
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CONTENTS
VOL 4.
No. 6 | FEBRUARY 2015
KISSING AND TELLING 06
Kissing and Telling The Sexpectations
MAJOR SPEAK
CREATIVE
10
THEATRE Emerging
16
DON’T LEAVE UNTIL IT HURTS TO STAY By Joel Edmiston
12
COMMUNICATIONS Public Spaces/Private Spaces
20
SAND ALL OVER THE KITCHEN FLOOR By Jana Pauls
14
THEATRE All The World’s a Stage
ENTERTAINMENT
LIFEST YLE
22
LOCAL YORKU BANDS Bands from the YorkU Community
28
SHELF YOUR CELL Getting Better Sleep
24
NXNE The Ultimate Summer Festival
30
LOVE University Relationships
26
KISS MY ART Comics and Spiegelman
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KISSING AN LET’S TALK ABOUT SEX. Not the scientific process of how it happens but the cultural process of constructing it. Not just the act of sex, but the implications and expectations that accompany it. The Sexpectations. Seriously though, it seems like everyone has their opinions about it, but where are those opinions taking us? How are those opinions formed? Every day we hear about brand-spanking new ways to fall in love; 15 sexy things you can say to your man, 31 perfect first date ideas, 43 techniques on complimenting your woman, 50 shades of Grey. We are told that, while love may be complex, sex should be simple and straightforward; it should be between two attractive people. However, those conceptualizations of attractiveness in the mainstream media are consistently being defined by narrow points of view and rigid convictions disguised as moralities. People are either attractive or not, plunged into categories delineated by words like masculinity or femininity. So when individuals come about preaching ideas that are averse from those disseminated by mainstream media, they are often met not only with resounding discord, but also with accusations. “They are sexist. They are bitchy. They are offensive. They should be burnt at the stake.” Opinions are dismissed before they are even examined; they create polarities before they even have a chance to become anything more than
cannon fodder for group thinkers needing to justify their beliefs over others. The truth is seduction is not so simple. It is messy, convoluted, eclectic, and essential. It needs a variety of opinions in order to flourish. Groups such as RSD, Real Social Dynamics (a company that primarily teaches men how to obtain relationship success with women), receive a lot of flak from the media for their aim to supplement the population with controverting perspectives. One of the more prominent attentionseeking members of RSD, Julien Blanc, who relies on shock factor in order to promote himself, generates an especially large amount of criticism for his standoffish attitude, radical behaviour, and questionable methods. He recently garnered a lot of negative media attention by starting a #ChokingGirlsAroundTheWorld hashtag on twitter. These antics gave Julien some notoriety and prompted the appropriate officials from many countries, including Canada, to try and revoke Julien of his travel VISA so that he may not enter these countries to teach or conduct seminars. Julien claimed to be joking, and although it's clear that comments like this can cause people real distress, when officials act like this it can also cloud interpretations about what people like Julien and others teach. So, we must ask these questions; do we treat Julien's behaviours as anomalous,
and condemn them separately from the rest of RSD? Is our readiness to dismiss opinions like Julien's deep rooted in some sort of uncomfortable feeling society faces when we confront the taboo of sex? At its core, is what RSD teaching really wrong? Or is it seen that way simply because that’s how mainstream media has portrayed it? Initially, I wanted to write a piece that examined specifically the practicality of RSD like-groups and what they teach and why they constantly battle censorship from the media. But comparing my opinion to that of the media’s, or anyone else’s for that matter, doesn't do very much good. That route would’ve made it so that my beliefs could’ve be dismissed and attacked for being single-minded, misogynistic, or contentious. So to get to the bottom of the issue, I invited my feminist-philosophy major-self titled bagel connoisseur-FrancophileConcordia student-friend, Jane, to partake in an open discussion about the practice of seduction in popular culture. After a lengthy and tangential conversation, Jane and I found ourselves deep in contemplation about society and deeper into postdiscussion cups of frozen yogurt. What follows is our reflections and analysis about the conversation, speech, freedom, Pick-up Artists, and Feminism. In no particular order. Enjoy…
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ND TELLING I must preface this piece by stating that as an individual who believes in equality for women (or rather, for all), that I may immediately be designated the title “feminist�. However, it must be dually noted that I may by no means claim any sort of expertise in this particular field. It is simply happens that by situation of my gender I am somewhat qualified to discuss the topic at hand. The topics of sexuality, sex, and seduction seem to have emerged as constant points of discussion within my daily life, as I’m sure is the case with many. It seems only natural that the next step in a process of understanding these issues is to put whatever conclusions I have come to at this point in
BY TAVISH GUDGEON & JANE WRIGHT
time, into writing. As a student of philosophy, I understand the importance in approaching both sides of any argument and considering their respective validity. All ideas within this piece are subject to change at any given moment, as a good debate and presentation of argumentation will often do. Therefore, I urge that everyone approach any ideas in this piece with an open mind, and I hope that it may engender further discussions of a similar nature. I have tried my best to write with as much gender neutrality as possible in order to avoid targeting any specific groups.
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JANE’S TAKE I was originally introduced to RSD and Julien Blanc after Tavish and two other close male friends of mine somewhat jokingly invited me to one of his seminars, set to happen in Montreal this March. Talk of Blanc’s seminars (and Blanc himself), began to gain momentum after his racist comments and various tweets of an abusive nature were brought to light. The media frenzy surrounding Julien Blanc has catapulted his dating seminar, ‘Real Social Dynamics’, to a place of problematic fame. While RSD may have at one point been a place for men wishing to develop their social skills, it may now attract those with less wholesome intentions. While I can wholeheartedly appreciate the guts it requires to approach a woman (or any individual for that matter), the genuine nature of the act is lost if
it is derived from a man who tweets ‘#ChokingGirlsAroundTheWorld’ as some sort of pathetic attempt at humour. It is the normalizing of such jokes that in turn leads to a trivializing of the act itself, desensitizing us to the harsh reality that abuse, oppression, and sexism are things that women around the world endure on a daily basis. We must consider at what point a seminar for ‘meeting’ women turns in upon itself to engender an attitude of misogyny and what some people have claimed as instruction for assault. Does it begin with the seminar itself? Or simply with the individual who attends it, motivated either by a genuine interest in meeting women, or fuelled by the promise of meaningless sex. From here one must divide the terms “meeting” vs.
“seducing”, as Blanc’s tactics suggest manipulation, appearing to many as an attempt to incite violence against women. It is the banding together of men that poses problematic, where a ‘strength in numbers’ and herd mentality led by a cult-like figure may pose dangerous for women. I must note that Blanc does teach during his seminars that men ‘take a step back’ the moment a woman appears to show discomfort or express, whether directly or indirectly, any indication of NO. I don’t want to pat Julien on the back too much for this one, as he shouldn’t have to teach a bunch of grown men what the word no means for the first time. Respecting another persons space and accepting rejection should not only be common knowledge, but common human decency. This leads me to think that
TAVISH’S TAKE Before I get into other points and now that everyone has had time to jump to their own conclusions, let us examine what Real Social Dynamics aims to do, or at least what their platform claims they aim to do. Real Social Dynamics is a group that provides men with strategies to achieve any form of seduction success with women that they desire; calling themselves “the largest dating and personal development company in the world”. Members of the RSD community often refer to themselves as PUAs, or Pick-Up Artists. These definitions immediately reek of suspicion and quite honestly sound like a front for a company that is saturated in sexism and teaches men manipulation tactics for having sex with women. Words like “strategies”
and “techniques” make it sound as though a system is being created where women are reduced to a lessthan human status; where they are seen as entities that, with calculated logic, can be persuaded solely to pleasure men. This justifiably pisses a lot of women (and men) off. Critics of RSD say that women don’t want to be seen as not an individual or have their safety compromised through objectification of their gender, and they want to be attracted to and make a connection with a genuine person, not some artificial pick-up robot. But why then, as proven time and again, does RSD actually work? Why are men who study RSD finding that they have tremendous relationship success with women? Well, it comes down to a simple yet vexatious truth:
Seduction can be learned, it is a skill. That goes for both men and women; you can learn to be attractive. This is contrary to what mainstream media perpetuates. Mainstream media likes to espouse the idea that physical appearance or material goods create an attractive person; that being attractive is either something you are or are not. Why do we think the media does this? It’s because it is simpler. When people or things are presented in the “one or the other” dichotomy, it requires less energy to make a decision. And even less energy to validate our decision as being the correct one, the one in alignment with society. I’ll admit, I felt animosity towards RSD when I first found out about them. I thought: “That’s not
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it may simply be the individuals in attendance who, unfortunately, take certain parts of his teachings the wrong way. This of course is unavoidable in life, as with anything taught there will always be people who interpret it incorrectly or take it to dangerous degrees. Taking it to the extreme is what leads to the cultivation of objectification, as the men in attendance no longer seek a woman but rather the experience and self-assuredness that may be applied to all women in general. Sincerity is stripped as the techniques become more aggressive, and women are no longer individuals but rather just another number. It is also problematic to impose the title of victim upon all women being approached on the street. As a
woman and conscious individual it is blatantly obvious to me when I am, in fact, being picked up! Especially by an “amateur" who has just paid big bucks to get someone to help them in doing it. However it may be the case that Blanc targets certain women who may not pick up on the nuances of his style. But again - I think we fail to give credit where credit is due, as women are fairly (I recognize the bias here) perceptive when it comes to men. I think the real victims here are the men who are shelling out upwards of $2000 to learn how to simply begin talking to the opposite sex. We also seem to have forgotten that women are also beings of a sexual nature. Whether or not the roots of the act are genuine or sincere, after quickly and easily recognizing
that a man is attempting to pick me up, I will (as an agent with free-will), then decide if perhaps all I am looking for is a one night stand or something more. Girl’s gotta eat too. What’s interesting to me is that not only are dating seminars for men offered by men, but the majority of the dating seminars offered for women are also offered again….by men. There is a concerning lack of female representation when it comes to something that directly involves us, and I can’t help but again discern cultlike undertones as dating gurus like Blanc stand on their podiums smoothtalking and directing their followers towards unwitting individuals.
how women want to be treated, it is so fake, and all those guys (RSD instructors) are a bunch of douchebags”. I never had trouble talking to girls, so the idea that a guy needed another guy to teach him how to talk to women seemed desperate. But the concept behind RSD was so fascinating, a whirlwind of infuriation and intrigue; I couldn’t understand how this group was continuing to flourish. I began investigating, watching hours upon hours of videos on RSD and other groups like them. Eventually something became apparent to me: RSD isn’t about using pre-loaded pick-up lines or tricks to sleep with women, it is about cultivating the sense of selfworth and confidence that it takes to actually start talking with women
so that one can put themselves in a position where, to put it brashly, they can get laid. It is about transcending pre-conceptualized notions of attractiveness and overcoming the insecurities that surround them. Instructors teach strategies for facilitating personal paradigm shifts that would allow for one to adapt to social situations. They promote techniques such as introspection, meditation, self-reflection, healthy eating, exercise, and bio-energetics that foster positive thinking attitudes and lifestyles. The concept behind these teachings is that; if you love yourself and find yourself attractive, then that will translate into others finding you attractive via the law of state transference.
After (and even before) Julien Blanc’s twitter comments, the media was brandishing RSD as a sexist and pathetic group that was responsible for supporting the existence of rape culture. The media stated that groups like RSD are partly to blame for the continued objectification of women in our culture and society. This is not the absolute truth. While Julien’s comments may very well be offensive, we really cannot find them representative of all of RSD’s teachings or beliefs. Additionally, we need to be able to look past what the media is telling us and discern for ourselves whether or not something is beneficial to us and the rest of humanity.
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EMERGING
OR: How I learned to stop trying to build Rome in a day. BY CURTIS TE BRINKE
I WANTED IT ALL, AND I WANTED IT right now. Far be it from anyone to describe me as “patient”. The balancing act of university has thought me many things, but patience has yet to be one of them. As a theatre maker, I entered university seeking artistic legitimacy by any means necessary. I was under the impression that working hard and pushing myself would lead to better work, and more of it. I wasn’t entirely off the mark, but there’s an all encompassing caveat to this statement I never saw coming. This past school year has added up to me developing (and staging) two of my own plays, joining a massive and time consuming Theatre@York production, completely rewriting a third play already in production, writing the first draft of a new one, and creating/ performing plays out of nothing as a member of York’s Devised Theatre class. Oh, and then also the rest of my undergrad, work, a personal life, and finding time to eat here and there. The fact is, I do it all to myself. Even as I write this I’m looking at the concept map for another script
that has yet to begin first draft status. While people have yet to describe me as patient, ambitious is a word I get now and then. And while ambitious makes me feel a certain level of badassery, I’ve come to the realization that ambition is boring. Results are where its really at. Results that come as a product of allowing development and process to run their due course. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Becoming a successful theatre whatever-the-hell-we-arecalling-it-now doesn’t happen over night. And while I’m waxing philosophical (read: masturbating wildly) about my own theatre bullshit, I would like to think this applies to the rest of our lives. The fact I keep coming back to (as explored in my loving write up to Richard Linklater’s Boyhood) is that life is mostly just a series of weird, quiet moments. Maybe every now and then you stumble across success and a big, loud moment. But otherwise, its you: reading this page right now. Not exactly a photo op moment.
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“I’ve come to the realization that ambition is boring. “
The footnote I missed while reading over the “early adulthood” terms of conditions was that finding your own success comes not from working hard and pushing yourself. At least not exclusively. Maybe its less about working hard than it is working smart. Because this year has been a flip book series of me throwing myself around York, around Toronto. Barely able to commit to my current moment with the rest of them hanging over my head. Working really hard, working really stupidly. It makes sense. As emerging artists and emerging people, we find it difficult to say no. God forbid we become the Pete Best’s of the next big thing. Of our own lives. But maybe its not getting your hands on everything. Maybe its about using said hands to make what you are doing the best it can be. So my challenge to all of us is this: Lets be okay with the process. Lets take things as they come. Live in our current projects. Know that this draft is enough. Let the quiet moments be quiet. Lets work smart. And every now and then, lets go back and read the fine print.
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PUBLIC SPACES SECAF ETAVIRP TECHNOLOGY VS PRESENCE
BY RIELLE ULLBERG AS A COMMUNICATIONS STUDENT, I have consistently been baffled by the atmosphere of anonymous separation that colours our student populace. I realize this is a tale as old as York’s construction initiatives. While this may be true, I believe it continues to present a problem that appears to have no solution. I do not endeavor to take to the York pulpit and condemn that “Hall-side Texter” who is perpetually engrossed in their phone (at least, up until their companion rounds the corner). I do believe that the tenuous relationship between technology and “presence” creates a variety of problems for our generation. I should note the distinction between technologies and presence. “Technology”, with respect to my argument, consists of the personal devices we bring with ourselves, out into public spaces. This can range from our snazzy new Sony Walkman portable CD players to hyped-up Google Glass tech that was celebrated, for a time, and has faded into tech legend. Our everyday reality lies in between these two extremes. Smart phones, tablets, laptops, perhaps the odd MP3 player, all contribute to this perceived isolation in public spaces. This becomes exceptionally
pertinent when our ever-present ear-buds slip out of that side pocket, and coil around our bodies like a knotted white snake. Pairing personal technology with audio broadcasting seems to add another level to the anonymity indulged with modern tech. Public music enjoyment has been dubbed the “sonorous envelope” in a psychoanalytical attempt to link the submersion of our minds in audio content, to a deeply repressed desire to fit back inside our mother’s womb. This is, again, an argument against technology that tends towards the extreme. But consider how you utilize your rubber suctioned ear-buds in public, and how they might argue to the world at large, that even though you are sharing a bus, your head space is your own. This is what presence refers to; the idea that technology limits our ability to fully engage with the social space our body inhabits both physically and mentally. This debate has been co-opted innumerably for different purposes. Check out Lululemon’s #givepresence campaign. They use the debate in their advertising to simultaneously demonize technological intervention, as well as promote their healthy lifestyle branding and yoga initiatives.
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Maybe the campaign makes you want to agree with Lulu, but I ask this: what is so satanic about enjoying the company that your phone enables? A sense of prioritization comes in to play. Certainly, in an important “talk” with your partner, or Christmas morning, or brunch with Grandma, one might put that ringer on silent (well, vibrate at least). In moments like these, presence might be in your best interest. There are things that you do not want to miss, things that cannot be remembered through a mind that was, at the time, scrolling endlessly on Tumblr. Despite this, mobile technology enables conversation with hordes of people I could never see in-person. Chances are, if I am having dinner with you, you are physically accessible to me. So when my cousin in Indonesia messages me on Facebook, this might be the only time this month we can have a real-time conversation, albeit mediated by Facebook messenger. What about the online socialization enabled by carrying a personal technological device out into the world? Instagram gets a lot of heat for its endorsement of selfies and #foodporn pics. In this spectrum, people argue that digital photography distracts from “the now” and thus sacrifices presence for likes, re-tweets, or whatever form of social media currency your online community provides. If you have a less than adequate memory, like me, then you might be grateful for that increased megapixel front-facing camera and its quick capture of moments you are surely never going to recall, like that chocolate cake you ate last night at Moxie’s. Might presence be heightened by our ability to document public space proceedings, in a private or online channel?
At this point you probably believe I am pro-technology in the public sphere. So I will argue against it. I feel a certain dread when I see that every single person on the bus is listening to something on their smart phone. This has many of our elders in a fit, proclaiming the destructive possibilities of the cell phone’s eternal presence in our hands, or a computer’s ability to transfix its users. The electronic screen presents a more worshiped deity than exists in any other religion. Furthermore, how is it that we cannot be comfortable waiting in public, and therefore must be engrossed in a technology so as to appear nonchalant? This being said, riding the bus or waiting for a friend, and subsequently using one’s phone in the interim, might have more to do about attention span and entertainment, than it has to do with discomfort in a public space, or the need to isolate oneself. This inevitably prompts a question; what is this legendary attention span, and where did it go? Is it so difficult to take some sort of comfort in the necessary evil that is public transit? I find it pleasant to have a place where indulging my own thoughts is the only way to pass the time. Then again, I admit I am not so comfortable purposelessly waiting in a public space, without at least sporadically twiddling away on my phone. I have made some arguments, but I refuse to construct a one-sided conclusion. Your sense of priority is entirely your own, do with public space what you like. I am far too busy closing and reopening my Snapchat app to moralize your public space preferences. .
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stage
all the world’s a
BY ERIC SCHOENBERGER
WITH THE YEAR GRADUALLY WINDING down and some of us leaving the University for good I feel like this is an important time for reflection. Reflection on not only what we’ve learned, but also just how we’re going to use our newly honed skills in the outside world. Speaking from experience I can understand the stress that one might feel when contemplating this stuff, especially those of us in the arts who are told time and time again how our degrees aren’t useful or how the skills we’ve learned don’t really apply to the real world. However, I can’t help but feel like those who say this haven’t actually thought about the way in which more non-traditional skillsets, particularly those related to theatre, can prove to be useful in life. Keep in mind that I am only able to relate to this from the point of view of someone who, despite being involved in theatre, has not chosen to make theatre their major or career (as I come an English background, a major almost just as often mocked). Rather,
I have been able to see how even my, relatively meager, theatre experience has helped me in my day to day life and with other job prospects. In my earlier article about giving theatre a shot I went into detail about the way I felt that theatre helped to improve me in a personal sense. While all of that still remains true, it can also be looked at a different way as well. Theatre forces a person to step outside of their comfort zone and, for some, this can be a very difficult task as shyness and insecurity can be very difficult to overcome. However, in my experience, overcoming shyness has helped immensely in life outside of school and in the workplace. It provides you with an invaluable attribute that many employers look for, confidence and, while it may sound a bit overdramatic, it cannot be denied that life involves a fair amount of acting. The need to act confident in the face of anxiety is something I’m almost positive
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anyone with experience in theatre can relate to the nervous, potentially gut-wrenching feeling one gets when facing down the eyes of an audience and, in many ways, that feeling isn’t all that different from the one you get when facing a prospective employer in an interview. This isn’t a lone situation in which theatre experience
helps either. There are many ways in which education in not only theatre, but the arts in general, can provide you with experience in areas you might not immediately think of. The Shakespearean idea that “All the world is a stage, and we are merely players” is not simply some
“While it may sound a bit overdramatic, it cannot be denied that life involves a fair amount of acting.”
nice idiom that was used to promote theatre to the masses. Rather, it’s the idea that we are all constantly putting on our own personal performance and playing out roles we create for ourselves. In this way training in acting is in some ways, training yourself for life. I want to stress however that this isn’t me saying “well at least you got something out of your degree” because the primary purpose of an education in theatre is still to pursue a career in theatre. However, if you ever find yourself thinking that what you’re doing might not be worthwhile, or you’re worrying about what the future may hold in store for you, just remember, all the world is the stage, and thankfully that’s your area of expertise.
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DONT LEAVE UNTIL IT HURTS TO STAY BY JOEL EDMISTON
I WONDER IF MY FATHER IS AS LONELY AS I am and if my brother and my cousin still love their girlfriends. There’s a lady on my lap who doesn’t love me. Fifth song ends and I give her my last twenty, expecting a hug and not a wave. I repeat her name three times and forget it on the last syllable. I want to lie down in this booth and be eaten by the velvet.
I’m shaking, walking past the bar with my head down, humming a song that ended five songs ago. I feel like I’m twelve years old, at an arcade with no tokens and no ride home. It smells like a basement. The boys at their table are wearing tight sweaters. Their expressions read, When we fucking drink, we don’t fucking think So don’t fucking sit with us If you won’t fucking fight with us.
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I’m close enough to the exit to feel snow on my neck whenever new patrons arrive. “That is one wide-open beaver.” I avert my gaze from the boys, to the stage, to my hand where I’m drawing a duck with a little black sharpie. This epileptic duck is the closest friend I have in this place. “I’m taking a shot with you, bitch. Then I’m taking a piss.” It’s my first time in this bathroom, but the cracks in the tiles seem familiar and the literature above the urinal is in my hand-writing. It says, “you will never fall in love here. You should have left with your friends. Leave now before you start crying.” Too late. I’m on the ground and I’m weeping — the kind of weeping you’re only supposed to do when someone dies. I wish I was my father or my brother or my cousin, so I wouldn’t ever be like this and they wouldn’t have to worry about me. The duck, soaked in piss and liquor, flies off my hand and up the wall, leaving a stream of black ink in it’s trail.
He flies into a vent and the whole wall turns black like it was black this whole time. I cry louder, and for a moment, everyone in this club cries with me. Then I feel a large hand on my collar and hear, “cut the tears and get a dance, or get out and go home. You’re creeping people out.” Outside by the dumpsters, I’m banging my head against the pavement. “Just until I bleed a bit and then I’ll stop.” I want to ask God to erase this memory, but he won’t, so I won’t bother. Tomorrow, when the lights are up and the clothes are on, this will be “that one time I cried in the bathroom of a strip club”. I’ll laugh about it with my father and my brother and my cousin as they wonder how I ever got to be this way and if there is anything they could do to make me stop talking about it.
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SAND ALL OVER THE KITCHEN FLOOR BY JANA PAULS
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IT HAD TAKEN MRS. MARGARET Mueller years to internalize that her daughter Marie did not like pineapples. It had always been the case, but the way that it is with parents, especially then there are multiple children to be considered, Mrs. Mueller did not seem to be able to remember this particular reference. It was not that Marie had an aversion to fruit in general; far from it. Mrs. Mueller liked to tell the story of how, as a toddler, Marie
would refuse to eat anything but pureed fruit (a story that Marie often thought had predestined her to turn a vegetarian during her teen years). Marie herself had vivid memories of the German fruit flans she and her mother used to make in her childhood: sweet spongy cakes topped with canned peaches and raspberries, or fresh strawberries in the summer, served with whipped cream at exactly half past 3 in the afternoon (the kids would make sure of that) and as such always the culinary highlight of the weekend. Her aunt SIlvia would make similar cakes for family celebrations, like birthdays or Easter, but she used fruit cocktail right from the can, which meant a mix of melon, grapes, peach, pear - and pineapple. Marie would not though the cakes, though her mom would keep offering her a piece each and every time. By the time that Marie was 16 the pineapple thing had become a bit of a running joke in her family. One year at Christmas they were around her uncle and aunt’s house for a family dinner. The dessert was to be a light, fluffy, deliciously sweet coconut mousse, but it had pineapple in it, so Marie politely declined. Her mother was surprised, “You don’t like pineapples? Since when?” “No, I don’t like pineapples. Since, like, forever.” “Really? I thought you liked pineapples.” “Mom, I’ve never like pineapples. And I’ve mentioned that before, by the way.”
“Yea, by the way, mom, she doesn’t like pineapples,” her brother Tim pitched in. “Even I know that, woman!” Margaret rolled her eyes at him. “But don’t you want to try it?” “I’ve tried it several times. I don’t like it, okay?” “whaaat, you don’t like pineapples?” Marie’s dad interjected with fake surprise, beginning to enjoy the joke. “That’s what I heard,” Tim affirmed. “Who doesn’t like pineapples?” Aunt Feli, having just entered the room holding the dessert bowl, asked. “I don’t.” “So you don’t want any dessert then?” “No, I’m good. Thanks.” “Yea, ‘cause she doesn’t like pineapples!” Tim closed with an amused glance at their mom, who, looking sheepish, pursed her lips and took the bowl from Aunt Feli. When everybody had gathered around the table and started on dessert, Marie’s grandpa said: “This is delicious, Feli! What’s in this?” “Pineapple,” Tim offered, sending half the table into snickers. “I heard Marie doesn’t like it,” Margaret added with a slight smile. “Oh, she doesn’t?” Grandpa said. That was probably about the point at which Margaret got it and would no longer forget that her daughter did not like pineapple. It was burned into her memory by repetition.
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“Who doesn’t like pineapples?” Marie shyly caught her eye and smiled. She did not stop smiling for the rest of the night. All of this brings us back to a beautiful sunny morning in December and to a small corner restaurant in Playa del Carmen, Mexico, where Marie is having breakfast on vacation with her friend Lisa. It is a square room with open glass doors on two sides, square wooden tables, a mix of wood and brightly spraypainted rattan chairs. A menu of beverages is printed onto the white wall in multicoloured Comic Sans, the typeface for once not looking out of place. Lisa has ordered breakfast enchiladas, and Marie, not feeling very hungry this early in the morning, a fruit salad and half a liter of orange and mango juice to share. When the food arrives, Marie noticed that - of course, how could she have failed to expect it? - there are pieces of pineapples in her fruit salad. At first she thinks she’ll just leave them aside, but then she reconsiders. This whole year is supposed to be about trying new things, right? And she hasn’t tried pineapples in at least a year, so… she sticks her fork into one of the yellow triangles, lifts it up to her mouth and, wincing in anticipation, bites down. A pleasant sweetness fills her mouth, a juiciness, and the distinct taste of pineapple, too, but it’s subtle, not the invasive tang that she always detested. None of the uncomfortable prickly sensation she used to get on her tongue either. “Wow,” she comments in surprise. Lisa looks up. “What?” “You know how I don’t like pineapples?” “Yea, we talked about that only yesterday.” “Well, I like this pineapple.”
Lisa raised her eyebrows. “No shit. Maybe Mexican pineapple’s special.” “Maybe,” Marie says, taking another piece. Lisa chuckles. “Have fun explaining that to your mom.” “Oh my…” Marie grins, “That’s Just going to screw up her world view.” It’s going to screw up her whole world view. Marie had been joking when she said that to Lisa, but thinking about it now she thought it might be more serious than that. It was a week after Mexican fruit salad; she had since tried pieces of pineapple in other places and liked them just as well. She was now on the train to her parent’s house, some would call it “home”, for Christmas. Outside, a snowy landscape was passing by and thinking about her recent vacation made her feel cold. The problem was that it was mattered. Liking pineapples or not, it was a tiny detail in her life, but it was immensely important to the way she thought about her mother, and her mother about her. Marie’s mother was not an emotionally approachable person. Marie had lived with that all her life, and by now she had learned to accept it. Promise, believe, proud, love - none of these were words that Marie had ever heard her mother say. She was a practical woman, a brilliant woman, but it was close to impossible to get her to admit or commit to anything. Growing up, that was all Marie ever wanted of her - or anyone else for that matter - she wanted somebody to commit, to express a positive emotion towards her, and appreciation. And then that one time, she received one. The night of that Christmas dinner, when they had shared a glance and a smile over dessert, that
had been a pact; a commitment on Marie’s mother’s part to learning this small truth about her daughter, to memorizing and respecting it: See, I appreciate you; can you appreciate me in return? And now Marie was supposed to destroy that truth? She told Lisa about this, tried to explain it as best as she could, in test, through the coming and going phone signal. Me (1:38 PM): Do you see what I mean? I just don’t think I can tell her. It would mess everything up. Lisa (1:39 PM): Sweetheart, it’s pineapples we’re talking about here. What’s the big deal? If you don’t want to tell her, don’t tell her. Me (1:42 PM): But… If I don’t tell her, then 1) I’ll be lying to her, which, admittedly, would not be the first time, and 2) what if she makes one of her fruit salads and leaves out the pineapples just for me when she doesn’t even have to? Lisa (1:50 PM): I see your point. So if you tell her you’ll feel ungrateful and if you don’t tell her you’ll feel ungrateful. Me (1:58 PM): Yea. Lisa (2:11 PM): You know you’re being a bit neurotic about this, right? Me (2:16 PM): Yea. Me (2:22 PM): But it’s important to me… Lisa (2:24 PM): Okay. So you just need her to find out without you having to tell her. Then it won’t be betrayal on your part. Me (2:25 PM): She does often try to let me to try things I don’t like again… Lisa (2:28 PM): So get her to try to get you to try pineapples again, then do try it and “discover” that
21 | CREATIVE you like it all of a sudden and then “no.” Until one time, when Marie got she will feel good about being right tired of it. and you’ll feel good about not lying “By the way, do you have a anymore and problem solved :) boyfriend?” Me (2:33 PM): … right. “Yes.” Me (2:38 PM): :) “Really?” It did not turn out to be that easy. “No, mom. But you ask me that When Marie arrived at the train every single time you see me!” station she was picked up by her “Oh.” mother, who greeted her with a After that, Marie’s mom never smile and one of those awkward but asked anymore, even when it got appreciated one-armed hugs she had to a time when the answer would developed over the last few years. In have been different. So Marie never the car they chatted about the journey, told her. And now she thought about their week, about traffic, about that perhaps it was the same with Marie’s exams. Marie always talked pineapple. Sure, her mother had a lot on these occasions, perhaps to always offered her to try it again, but compensate the silence of a solitary maybe she had given up, without train journey. Marie noticing or caring much, on “How was Mexico?” her mother account of how the answer was asked. always the same. No mom. It was a “Great!” Marie replied and became sad realization, her image in the eyes quiet. of her mother damned to be static Her mother looked at her. “Just because the questions that had the great?” power to move it had dried up her “Yea, I mean, it was nice. Warm. own irresponsiveness. She was being Beachy. Mayan-pyramids-y. I’ll show turned – had turned herself, more you the pictures later. What’s for like it - into an ice statue. No, a sand dinner?” statue, immovable and rough, past It went on like that for the next the point of being mouldable by a day or two. Everything was as it soft hand. Touch it now and it will always was except that Marie’s mind crumble. was constantly on the pineapple issue. Then, that Sunday afternoon, She was carefully avoiding bringing Marie walked into the living room it up and at the same time waiting and sure enough her mother was and hoping that someone else would. there with a plateful of fruit. Preferably her mom. Preferably by “Pineapple?” she asked trying to eating pineapple and offering some to ignore the ridiculous sudden rush of her. Preferably soon. It was mental, of adrenaline. “Is it good?” She couldn’t course. But Marie did not know how help the sarcastic undertone leaking else to approach it. into the question. It was like when her mom still Her mom picked up on the tone; used to ask her about boyfriends every she was used enough to it. “Yes, don’t time she came to visit. The question worry, I’m not putting any in the fruit was sure to come up at some point in salad for tonight.” conversation during the first couple “Ah. Good.” of days, never exactly in context. “By Not exactly what Marie had the way, do you have a boyfriend?” hoped for. She picked up a magazine The answer back then was always from the coffee table and pretended
to read. Really she was watching her mother, imagining how to start a conversation. Mom, is pineapple really that good for you? I’ve been trying to live healthier… Mom, why do you never ask me questions anymore? Like, whether I have a boyfriend of if I want to try a piece of pineapple? Mom, I have a boyfriend and I like pineapple and I’m generally not the person you think I am! Look at me and accept that! “Mom?” “Yes?” “…nothing.” It was no use. None of them were things she would ever say to her mom. She knew that and she knew that her mother knew that. And so they sat in silence. After dinner Marie helped her father put the plates in the dishwasher while her mom was scooping ice cream into four bowls. Marie’s brother and father then took a portion each, spooned some fruit salad from a glass bowl on top of the ice cream and disappeared into the living room. “Oh, I also have some leftover pineapple,” Marie’s mother called after them, “so if anybody wants to add that to their fruit salad, go ahead.” And to her daughter standing next to her, “Marie, do you want some?” Ice cream bowl in hand, stopped in her tracks. There it was. Her mother was mocking, of course she was. But still, wasn’t it exactly what Marie had been waiting for? She could take the opportunity and run with it. She could surprise her entire family, get rid of the weight, break out of the statue. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak. Paused. No. Better be a statue than crumble into loose sand; nobody wants that all over their kitchen floor. “No, mom, thanks. I’m good.”
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Y T I S R E V I N U YORK
S D N A B
BY PETER ELLMAN
summer 2015
23 | ENTERTAINMENT
VIVA MARS
OKA TRAPPIST
NICK TEEHAN
are an indie rock/pop band whose influences include the Beach Boys, The Smiths, and the Velvet Underground. They have a record (available on Bandcamp) called “But Of Course, Yes, Definitely, Right” out last march, and are already working on new material.
are an indie R&B group featuring one of the best pianist/keyboardists I know, Michael Goldchain, as well as the soulful crooning of Sylo Nozra. Check out their stripped down cover of Sampha’s “Indecision” on Youtube, and watch out for new material on Soundcloud soon.
is a jazzy singer-songwriter whose music combines the eclectic influences of jazz, blues, indie pop, and cabaret for a stunning blend all his own. I saw him charm the Rex Hotel audience a few weekends ago and then bumped into him in the halls here at York the Monday after. His album “There is Not A Snake” is on Bandcamp and he should be playing the Rex again soon.
DAN BENJAMIN REINES BROOKS is a folky, bluesy singer-songwriter, sometimes accompanied live by The Blood Machine Band, whose influences include Tom Waits, Neil Young, and Iron and Wine. His record (also on Bandcamp) is called “Brother, Take My Gold. Sister, Take My Bones.” He’s got new material in the works and is playing the Beer Market in Toronto on April 2nd. (Dan and I also recently started a drone metal band called Tar).
HUGE COSMIC are a 2-piece band that draw from ambient, electronic, shoegaze, and math rock influences. Their album, “Microcosmic” is on Bandcamp now and they have new material in the works as well. They just launched a Tumblr with links to all their content, and are playing a show March 5th at Cherry Cola’s Rock n Rolla Cabaret and Lounge.
CLOUD EVEREST are a post-rock/math-rock band drawing influence from American Football, Mogwai, and Explosions in the Sky. They blew up the Martin Family Lounge with a dynamic live set earlier this winter and the live recordings are available on their Soundcloud page.
FAMILIARS are a heavy psych/stoner rock band with roots in London, ON. Ken, the guitarist, is a cool guy in my Canadian Literature class. Their selftitled, 2-song EP is on Bandcamp, and was recorded by Josh Kordy at Candle Recording in Toronto. Korody is developing a great reputation for loud, heavy guitar sounds with Toronto bands Teenager, Wish, HSY, Beliefs and more, so keep an eye on Familiars.
REMINDER are an emo/pop punk band featuring students of the Seneca at York Independent Music Production program. They also played in my basement a few weeks ago. Their EP “Of All The Things You Are” is on Bandcamp now, and they have a new single on the way this spring, and will be starting pre-production on a full length soon after. They are playing March 8th at Parts and Labour, opening for Alcoa (Derek from Defeater).
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THE ULTIMATE SUMMER FESTIVAL BY NADIA ROMPAS
NX
ONE OF THE PERKS OF BEING a music lover living in Toronto is the huge array of gigs that happens every day. It has become somewhat of a personal tradition that whenever a new season approa!es, I consult trusty ol" Last.fm for a listing of future shows and press “I"m Interested” to bookmark them (side note: nobody wants to be the lone wolf on the “Going” column). So obviously when the weather gets the tiniest bit warmer, NXNE a.k.a North by Northeast, that runs from June 17-21 this year, is the first summer festival that comes to mind.
Think hundreds of bands playing in downtown Toronto for five days. Hundreds. Every day. Everywhere. Five days. It is literally a gig-goer"s utopia but a bank account"s dystopia. From widely known acts to small underdogs, this festival is the perfect !ance to explore new music but at the same time reacquaint yourself with old loves. Standing on a closed Yonge Street wat!ing The National gracefully sweeping the crowd"s hearts with “v emo” music and then running to the subway to cat! We Are Scientists" half music and half stand up comedy midnight set at Lee"s Palace is still one of my most memorable experiences of the festival. While NXNE is best known for the music, they also host art, film, interactive and comedy events and parties, making it more or less the perfect place to drag your musically uninterested friend(s) on an adventure downtown.
If you are currently wondering: “Is NXNE affiliated with SXSW?” the answer is yes. In fact, NXNE is created by the same people in 1995. SXSW, or South by Southwest, conceived the idea of throwing an annual week-long festival with everything happening at once in downtown Austin, Texas. To this day it is still one of the most anticipated music festivals worldwide because they expose various smalltime North American and foreign bands. So forget the thought of standing in a desert with thousands of people stuck to one another for hours, because honestly, doesn"t !illing on a patio to wat! a buzz band play a set sound more exciting AND comfortable? Or maybe that"s just me growing old and granny-like.
25 | ENTERTAINMENT
XNE Despite the festival"s consistent reputation of having solid lineups, their ability to create unforgettable memories with unusual venues is the reason why NXNE trumps other summer festivals: streetcars... an island... and boats? (wat). The Mio Streetcar that ran on Queen Street hosted performances by Army Girls, Small Black and Macaulay Culkin"s parody band The Pizza Underground - just to name a few - whi! generated a lot of social media hype that inevitably led to more exposure of these underground bands. On another hand, the Toronto Island was renamed VICE Island for a few days when acts like Future Islands, Le1f and Pusha T took over and replaced !ildhood zoo memories.
Lastly, the Pana!e/M for Montreal Bruise Cruise has been a NXNE tradition that enables you to get stuck on a boat on Lake Ontario with a bun! of cool band members and people. And if you are lucky, the show may be hosted by Mac DeMarco (if you went, I am jealous).
There is a reason why NXNE is a huge asset for Toronto"s arts scene. Its large scale enables so mu! exposure for independent acts that may one day be the next Radiohead. As the lineup is still being revealed, the experience is a standalone reason on why you should go. If you don"t have approximately 75 dollars to spend on a festival wristband, there will be free performances at Yonge-Dundas Square and many small venues. Ugh, don"t you just love Toronto sometimes? For more information, head to nxne.com or @nxne on Twitter!
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KISS MY
ART “ You have to have the right to get it wrong in order to get it right.” – Art Spiegelman BY JAMIELYN MARIANO
When you are sitting inside a sold out movie theatre, sharing recycled air and precious legroom, you would expect that the 500-plus people seated around you are sweating just as bad. You would never expect those words to have the power to send shivers down the backs of every single audience member in the room. It did.
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Earlier this year I had the pleasure of attending a lecture by renowned graphic artist Art Spiegelman, called, “What the %@&*! Happened to Comics?” in the Bloor Hot Docs Cinema. Hosted by the Koffler Centre of the Arts, Spiegelman"s advocacy for free spee# in art – particularly in comics – is su# an important topic I think many of us take for granted. While it was quite clear that Spiegelman is as mu# of an orator as he is an artist, what he stresses most of all is the power of comics and the importance of open conversation. Using Mad Magazine as a prime example, the audience is taken through a brief history of influential comics. Slide through slide, Spiegelman shows how su# images are condensed in su# a way that it becomes an instantaneous grasp on the spectator. What he also notes is how almost all the images were subject to some form of censorship or controversy. Before attending the lecture, I wasn"t quite sure how I"d enjoy a formal comics discussion. The only comics I recalled as a #ild were the Spiderman issues my brothers had lying around the house, and even then, I"d rarely pick them up. In fact, I (naively) never understood how comic books could possibly mean more than a form of boy"s entertainment. And that"s when I understood the whole point
of Spiegelman"s spee#: Spiderman didn"t have to mean something to me, but it could matter a great deal to someone else. To millions, even. It is our unique ability to extract different meanings from symbols and images that make art su# a significant platform of expression and communication. Sometimes we tend to forget the power that art holds – this is why free spee# in art is so crucial: it grants us the opportunity for new experiences, for #ange, for hope, and more importantly, for learning. Comic books are a freedom of spee#. Just like banned books. Just like censored films. Just like art. They all have a voice that has a right to exist and to be heard, never silenced. Art is one of the purest forms of human expression, and to censor that I think would be the greatest offense in our world. As Oscar Wilde famously said – all art is quite useless. Sure, that may be true; but what we say and think and feel about art – that is perhaps the most valuable human right we have.
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SHELF YOUR CELL ... FOR SLEEP’S SAKE BY, MELISSA D’ANGELO DOES YOUR NECK HURT? BACK sore? Are you having trouble sleeping? The culprit may just be something society depends on more than ever...your cell phone! Here’s why: humans were designed to stand erect and sleep in darkness; however, today’s technology has ruined society’s posture and sleeping behaviour. By staring at your screen, you not only damage tissue, but using your phone at night affects how you sleep. Let’s look at your posture: an individual will, on average, spend 2-4 hpurs daily bending the neck at irregular angles. Dr. Kenneth Hansraji, chief of surgery at New York Spine Surgery and Rehabilitation Medicine says, “The average adult
head weighs 10-12 pounds in its upright, neutral position. However, with the force of gravity, your brain becomes heavier when you bend your neck.” What’s he trying to say?! Well the longer we text and keep our heads lowered, the more pressure we apply to our spine, losing our natural curvature. This pressure creates stress that may lead to “early wear and tear, and degeneration.” The study conducted by Dr. Hansraji indicates that a mere 45 degree tilt adds 49 pounds of extra weight onto our neck and spine! The only correction to this problem is adjusting our posture. Try to be aware of yourself while in class, at work, or doing homework at
your desk: you want to catch yourself slouching, even while on your phone. You can bring your phone at a higher angle, so as to eliminate the tilting neck movement toward the screen. A great tip to help maintain your posture is to also maintain the muscles in and around your neck. Having strong scapulae (shoulder blades), trapezii (over back of the neck and shoulders), and upper and lower muscles help keep your body from slouching forward. People today tend to have shoulders that curve slightly forward, an indication of weak trapezii. By strengthing these muscles and maintaining good posture, we can eliminate sore necks and backs. What about the way I sleep? What’s my phone doing? According to psychologist Richard Bootzin, the bed is specifically for sleep and sex. This is to facilitate to the brain that when it’s in bed, it’s to relax and trian to sleep. By introducing stimuli, the brain becomes attentive and focused on a task; therefore, unable to withdraw from activity in
29 | LIFESTYLE
THE BED IS SPECIALLY FOR SLEEP AND SEX
order to begin the cycle in order to sleep. Charles Czeisler, a professor of sleep medicine at Harvard Medical School conducted research alongside colleagues to prove whether or not light, especially emitted from electronics, impedes one’s ability to fall asleep. The results discovered iddentified that our circadian cycle was distrupted due to our retina’s exposure to light, while in bed. The photoreceptors in the retina wouldn’t tell the brain to release melatonin (a natural hormone, that when increased, tell the brain to sleep). Because of our increased alertness to the light and our screens, the melatonin is released later and prolongs us staying awake. Some may question, “Well, what if I read before bed?” That’s great! However, you may want to
veer away from tablets, and stick to the classic paperback book. The less light surrounding you while you lie in bed, the more likely you are to get enough sleep, and a good one at that. By falling asleep on time, you increase your chances of waking up when your melatonin is decreasing, meaning you’ll be more alert and ready to go. If you delay sleep and don’t get enough of it, you may wake up while your melatonin levels are still at peak, which leads to drowsy, irritated mornings. Aim for 8 hours of sleep and keep in mind your posture and head position...your body will thank you in 20 years.
YOU WANT TO CATCH YOURSELF SLOUCHING
Further reading: http://www.cbsnews.com/news/omg-youre-texting-your-way-to-back-pain/ http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2014/12/no-ipads-in-bed/383981/
30 | ARTICHOKE
31 | LIFESTYLE
BY MALINA SINTNICOLAAS PEOPLE SAY THAT LOVE CONQUERS ALL. IT HAS BEEN A THEME in our favorite pieces of literature, film, and something that our mothers like to reinforce to help us sleep at night when we’re five years old. However, in our society, does love really conquer all? At the moment in the broadest sense that you can perceive that question: no. Money does. However in the most dumbed-down aspect as a university student in a campus in the middle of a boiling lake of pollution, let’s analyze that question. In university, romantic relationships are extremely wide-ranging if not non-existent. We have dubbed the term “relationship” with words like “wheeling” where the only image I personally get in my head when someone says this to me is the scene from The Silence of the Lambs when Hannibal Lecter is being transferred to another prison on a dolly. You can perceive that whichever way you want to. Another term that has been used – mostly from what I remember in high school – is “f**k buddy” where a couple has decided to enjoy themselves again after an accomplished one night stand without any emotional attachment. From what I have gathered from these expressions, people do not want to accept that while they are engaging in intimate contact with other people, they are essentially having relations with each other, thus forming a relationship. According to Oxford Dictionary, the definition of a relationship is the way in which two or more concepts are connected, or the state of being connected. You are in a relationship with your friend, with your parents, with your neighbor etc. whether you despise them or get along with them. Therefore, when you are giving someone oral sex in a bathroom stall after they just bought a drink for you, fun fact, you are engaging in a relationship with them. Rant over. Another type of relationship that occurs in university is the long distance relationship. There are many types of long distance relationships, and like every courtship, the situation is always different depending on the people involved. I will be cliché and say that like a snowflake, there will never be one that is the same as another. However, I will write about this topic from a general perspective, and discuss the type of long distance relationship that most likely some first year university students can relate to: the romantic relationship that translates from high school to university.
So you’ve made it through high school, finally got the pretty little piece of paper that says you’ve passed. Depending on how long you and your significant other have been together, you may or may not have thought or said to each other that nothing could tear you apart…. And then university happens raising the big question: do you stay together? That is completely up to the couple. To some, either breaking up is not an option or they want to make an attempt at keeping the relationship going, of course that is inevitably not the case for everyone. For some couples, if they aren’t enrolled in the same educational infrastructure then that’s it—they’re finished. However I would like to discuss the couples that do want their relationship to survive the first year of university. The advice I can give is: remain in contact. Communication is key. If you can’t talk to each other every day, talk every second day. Take some time to visit each other if possible and spend some time together alone. I know it can be difficult once the year gets going, but it is possible. Try not to hold resentment towards each other just because neither of you are going to the same institution. Following each other and studying at the same university may seem ideal if you want to stay with your high school sweetheart, however if you are only doing it for your relationship and not for your personal ambitions, it will result in resentment in the future. If both of you are in the same program, fantastic, but if you’re not or if you are only choosing a program to stay close to your significant other then it isn’t going to work. Just remember that the first year of university is always the hardest to maintain a long distance relationship. If you survive the first year, imagine that you have climbed to the summit of Mount Everest and danced back down the other side. The next approximate four years to follow will be a piece of raspberry cheesecake. No, this explicit rant or personal pieces of advice will not speak to everyone. There are of course the healthy and loving relationships that develop within university some of which our aforementioned “wheeling” can be a gateway to. Some of which our aforementioned bathroom stall scenarios can be a portal to as well, though not as commonly. As previously stated, no relationship is the same. It always depends on the people participating in the courtship, the situation given, and what the two participants want out of the situation.