September 2019 by Salterrae

September 2019

e h t

K C A sue B

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table of contents... 3

chrysalis by isabella s. [poet laureate]

desperate and drunk by jess h. [food column]

the comeback issue by arunoshi s. & robin f. [editorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s note]

the real-real by carol & barb [sex column]

the frosh-soph smoker by sterling m. [treasures from the archives]

youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re in that room by julien s. [staff article]

the burden of branding by emily l. [staff article]

a lesson from your bishop by sophie b. & cory b. [events column]

learning how to salt by reece y. [first year column]

reading into another year by mila y. [criticism column]

the student life equilibrium by ellie s. [staff article]

rooftop garden by nathan p. [feature]

salt and fantasea by vikram n. [staff article]

inside-out by florian n. [short story]

songs to serenade your lover with based on their zodiac sign by archana r. [horoscopes]

vent to vicky by vicky m. [advice column]

Chrysalis Again, here we stand navigating veins of change perched on transition the permeable wrapped in the temporary so how should we feel? yet as we fumble to see the familiar we find our new skin By I s a b e l l a S e l l Po et La u re at e 3

editor’s note Dear Members of College and First Years, Here we stand again, hungover at the beginning of yet another year, burdened with a sleep debt we won’t be making up. The Salterrae has returned from its hiatus in rehab, and we are excited not to guide you through the nonsensical nature of life at Trinity, but to contribute to the nonsense that makes Trinity, Trin. The Salterrae only works, of course, because of you: our readers and contributors. So, thank you for picking up this issue and engaging in and celebrating the spirit of our college. You are the heart of the Salterrae. Summer sinks now into the familiar walls of Graham, friends in Strachan, a green tower against an evening sky, and below, a glow behind a half-drawn curtain, a glimpse of lives lived, paths unexplored, a horizon of possibility. An underlying theme of the Salterrae this year is My Trinity Self and I. Who do we become as we sweat free of our past selves in the parade? Who do we create as we talk about summer internships and travel escapades? Trinity is an environment of intensity, and we are each offered choice. Who will I be within Trinity? The answers are many and wonderful: a Real Housewife, the Wolf of Welch, a Strachan dweller, a fiscal conservative (socially liberal, of course), a quad squatter, a Massey-legacy, a Whit princess, a retched (retching) James Bond, or any combination thereof. Read on, then, into the lives of Trinity students, cognizant of the choices before you, the freedom to shape your “I,” whether worm or lofty fourth year. If you would like to contribute to future issues, please send your articles to salterrae.trinitycollege@gmail.com. Welcome to the year! Robin Fuller & Arunoshi Singh Editors-in-Chief

the team

Senior Design Editor

Senior Copy Editor

Grace Marshall

Emily Larman

Design Editors

Copy Editors

Treasuer

Nora Moidu Mary Danesh

Katie Gaskin Elise Lafleur Maja Soltysiak Nika Gottlieb Maria Villarreal

Cali Sherriff

Photography

Hila Lali Mary Danesh

Illustration

Ev Giles Clare O’Brien

Treasures from the Archives: 1950s Frosh September wanes and, as summer frolics become mere memories, the activities of term begin to feel routine. Straddling these seasons is a liminal boundary, a critical transition period known as “Frosh Week.” Far more than just a week of revels, a last hurrah of carefree summer merriment (though were this its purpose, it would suit admirably), it is when the most vibrant student community in Canada reforges its bonds and adopts a new class of fresh-faced worms.

by Sterling Manusco

While this brief description of cakefight sounds innocuous, it is missing one key element: the torrents of filth used by worms and sophs alike, employed in a desperate attempt to break the spirit of the others. The sophs would pelt the worms with assorted foodstuffs and garbage from within the tower. Additionally, vats of goop would be spilled from the windows. The contents of this foul mixture were usually described with vague innuendo, but a 1954 article confirmed that the sophs had imported pigswill from a Toronto farm. Worms could fight back, and indeed often softened the defences with rotten tomatoes, but it was a rare occasion when a single worm pushed his way into the quad.

The origins of “worms” as a nickname for first years predates the ’50s. From the Varsity clippings in the scrapbook, it appears most commonly in the context of the cakefight. “Origins of the cakefight [were] said to go back many a year,” wrote Phillip Jones in 1954. According to Jones, one year the women of St. Hilda’s baked a cake for the first-year students, who in turn had it stolen by sophomores (known at the time as “sophs”) on their way through Henderson Tower. Given the geography of the Henderson Tower and St Hilda’s, this story appears doubtful. But it is undeniable that cakefight was central to the initiation of worms.

Cakefight was the ultimate initiation to the rough and tumble College that was the Trinity of decades past. The drought of worm victories was broken for only the second time in 1953, when a particularly raucous class of worms triumphed over a particularly weakwilled year of sophs. The accompanying Varsity article detailed that, prior to this occasion, the only class of worms to triumph was the first class of military veterans. These battle-hardened souls simply hunted down some skunks, tied them to the ends of poles, formed a phalanx, and walked unopposed into the quad. In a close call, another devious class of worms broke into Henderson Tower in 1957 on the night before cakefight to steal the upper years’ stash of garbage. Sophs complained of foul play, but were able to procure a reserve supply of garbage in time to carry the day.

Cakefight was the ultimate iniation to the rough and tumble College that was the Trinity of decades past. The premise was simple enough. The worms would gather in Philosopher’s Walk, across from Henderson Tower. The tunnel beneath the Tower would be defended by sophs three rows deep; the windows were crammed with more upper years. At the shrill of a whistle, the masses of worms would have to propel themselves past the older students, through Henderson tunnel, and into the quad. If successful within one minute, the worms would get a cake. Otherwise, it would be given to the sophs.

Some time after the cakefight, sophs and worms would come together for the final initiation event. The capstone of Frosh Week, the Soph-Frosh Smoker, is when first years turned from worms into Members of College, and gained the privileges of the latter (including the right to use the central paths through the old quad).

A Varsity article on the Scottish-born Dean Katherine Darroch of St. Hilda’s (after whom we just renamed a floor) references her belief that Canadian universities conduct more pranks than their British counterparts, such as the custom in St. Hilda’s of dressing new students in “haloes and sandwich boards.” While most strange, this explanation breathes life into an otherwise inexplicable picture of St. Hildans sitting on top of a wall, haloes on their heads, and boards with (alas) illegible messages plastered to their fronts.

The Trinity student songbook included an entry for “The Soph-Frosh Smoker,” sung to the tune of Clementine. “In a basement, in a cellar, Anywhere that’s out of sight,” the song begins, “It’s the Soph-Frosh yearly smoker Roaring on through half the night.” The Smoker took place in the old Buttery, and undoubtedly included large quantities of alcohol and cigarettes. There is much to suggest that at this event, the worms would cut their ties off, thus completing their metamorphosis into full Trinitrons. Evidence includes literal tie fragments glued to the pages of the yearbook. Frustratingly little information remains as to the activities for women of college. Cakefight was strictly men-only, and no photos exist of women at the Frosh-Soph Smoker; I could only find three references to women at Frosh Week. The first, of course, was the baking of the cake that started the fight, and the second, a single picture of two women playing a drum at cakefight, well clear of the splash zone. The third was a very peculiar custom, indirectly referred to in an article on a new Dean of St. Hilda’s College.

The Frosh Weeks of the 50s were certainly a wild time. And while the events were of an entirely different magnitude than those in which we partake in our more inclusive day, the purpose remains the same: to introduce more of the salt of the Earth to our most hallowed halls and our most singular community. I will leave you with the final lyric of the Soph-Frosh Smoker, which depicted a nagging doubt that perhaps exists in the minds of all students in the graduating class: “For this noble institution, Only one thing do we fear, That it won’t be as successful When it comes again next year.”

THE BURDEN OF BRANDING

By Emily Larman

“While media expands our consciousness, it introduces infinite content that causes us to lose sight of ourselves.”

I was recently studying at a coffee shop in Oxford when a couple of posh boys stumbled in, rambling on about the graphic details of a missing girl. They spoke in hushed tones, deep sighs. They offered an air of indifference while maintaining an anxious, self-aware posture that informed their public display. How much was an act contributing to the elusive image they wanted to portray, to come across in the way they had built themselves up to be in their heads? Posh, reckless, sexy students of the best university in the world, drunk on Dom and bad decisions.

This fleeting instance led me to consider the dichotomous representation I mentally construct for myself. I invent stories for everyone; constantly, invasively, I craft a narrative around what goes on in someone’s life . . . how they take their coffee, the nature of their relationships, their thoughts . . . do they race as much as mine? These narratives I spin for others only serve to validate that polarity that perhaps we all face, of how we choose to present ourselves and who we actually are. How true are you to your actual story?

The dichotomy between who we think we are and what we actually present only continues to grow, leading to constant disappointment since we cannot live up to our own inflated standards. Even when we try to be #real and relatable while posting to our Finstas with shitty drunken nights and regrettable hookups, we are still participating in the construction of our image. It is a never-ending cycle of branding that pushes us further away from who we truly are.

Our perception of self thus becomes skewed to the extent that we are losing sight of who we are at the expense of our image. Marshall McLuhan wrote that our increasing use of technology, namely social media, has led to our devices becoming an extension of our identity and of humans themselves. Our attachment to our devices has established a dissonance between perception and experience, breeding an unprecedented level of numbness and irritation. While media expands our consciousness, it introduces infinite content that obscures our sight of ourselves.

“Technology does not have to be the enemy, we just have to be circumspect about our use of it.”

While the positives of social media may seemingly outweigh the negatives, it is crucial to consider the impact it has on our mental capacities and the construction of our identity. It is one thing to be cognizant of the control social media has over us, but it is another to alter the way we consume content altogether. Scrolling through your Instagram feed is changing the way you think by reprogramming the functions of your brain. Mindlessly watching Tik Toks influences the way you are able to process information, changing your relationships, your ability to interact and connect, and shortening your attention span. Trinity’s environment creates the perfect storm through which we feel the need to constantly put our best foot forward in order to be on everyone else’s “normal,” leading us to rarely reveal our truth.

Consider the way your dependence on your phone, your computer, or your Twitter account, dominates the way you think, and the way you consider yourself. Consider the amputation you would feel if your phone ceased to exist altogether; you would be without the power, dominance, and authority it has over your life. Technology does not have to be the enemy, we just have to be circumspect about our use of it. At Trinity, where social comparisons and tensions are heightened, our media persona is inevitably elevated because it is a representation of how we want to be perceived within the confines of our fiercely critical community. We pitch our constructed personas against each other: it is a competition, the very principle on which Trinity lives and breathes. But this is a competition of image that cannot be won, for any superficial finish line recedes into the distance the more we strive for it, just as we continue to recede from ourselves.

“We pitch our constructed personas against each other: it is a competition.” 8

TRINITY COLLEGE EVENTS 101: A LESSON FROM YOUR BISHOP By Sophie Berkowitz and Cory Benson You’re probably wondering how I (Sophie) got here. How I, of all people, was given such a wonderful platform to express my worthless opinions. Why am I writing to you, peasantry folks of college, and not the New York Times? Honestly, I don’t know.

SAINTS’ CHARITY BALL: When I picture Saints’ Ball, I see a room filled with Canada’s best and brightest. That room begins to dwindle down as the time passes, leaving only those who have resisted arrest from the vigilantes called the Dons. As the dance floor is left scattered with sober nerds or the most convincing drunks, the washroom becomes a warzone. Women of college are locked in dilapidated stalls, refusing to give up their names to the arguably more intoxicated Dons. Gotta love a good drunk pursuit. The Saints’ washroom also is the stage for one of Trinity College’s most popular activities: holding thy neighbour’s hair back. Nothing like a good hair-holding, bent over toilet, washroom stall teambuilding experience to foster community.

What follows is this: I am going to give vague descriptions of events that you have either never heard of or don’t quite understand yet. I will provide unsolicited bad advice to you newbies who have yet to participate in most of these so-called Trinditions, and I am going to struggle to provide accounts of a few nights that I have no recollection of, so really, I’m just gonna make shit up. Before you get too far, now is your chance to leave. I advise it, really. Go on, get. Keep flipping the pages. Leave me alone. Your staying is not worth my time.

CHRISTMAS HIGH TABLE: It’s just a regular high table but instead, you ignore multiculturalism more than usual.

FROSH WEEK: Ahhh, the week of introductions and awkwardness. The attendees of frosh events are everyone’s definitely-notfavourite, over-achieving, type-A yuppies, otherwise referred to as worms. The rains of summer allowed hundreds of these worms to unearth themselves and wiggle their way into the realm of Trinity College, in time for September. It’s hard not to step on them, and your most unholy Bishop also does her best never to miss.

MY FAVORITE EVENT: Trinity College Environmental Society Coffee House! If you want to get discovered, go to TCES COFFEE HOUSE.

After enduring this year’s Frosh Week as Bishop, it was clear to me that the worms refuse to admit what they are: wormy. They are worms that watched the first few weeks of “the next chapter of their lives” pass on by, attending events led by intoxicated Frosh Leaders and controlled by executives enjoying a big ol’ power trip. Despite obviously spending the summer researching Trinity’s long history and poring over stories of the college’s mildly covered-up indiscretions, they still refuse to take part in any of them. Truly, the Worst. Year. Ever.

CONVERSAT: Conversat is the university student’s second-take at high school prom. Members of college get dressed up in their fanciest attire of dresses and suits that, surprise, surprise, fail to match the completely arbitrary theme. They proceed to take horrid photos, some of which will get drunkenly posted on multiple forms of social media. A good portion of the population will also participate in, yet again, another team-building activity, Trincest. Gods above!

TCM: This most essential event, an exemplar of culture and democracy, which Trinity College revolves around, occurs on Monday nights: it is called The Bachelor. Monday nights are also when the Trinity College Meeting occurs. This is a place where Krispy Kreme cravers flock to watch a cross between Model UN and The Real Housewives. I’ve never actually attended one, but I’m sure there are reruns on TMZ.

In early autumn, two untouched, unknowing people get together embarking on a short-lived journey, some might say, “a relationship.” Of course, things heat up during the winter, when you can cuddle up at Welch parties and not worry about your increasing weight as those Christmas cookies add up and your trips to the Trin gym die down. Low and behold, it’s February; Conversat season. I’m -- I mean, everybody -- is starting to talk to their ex-boyfriend from home. So, the Trincest thing is dying down and is frankly, dry. By dry, I mean wet. By wet, I mean soaked. Soaked because everyone is drowning in their own tears.

In conclusion, go to these events and make mistakes that will keep you up at night. Go to these events and later wish you never did. Go to these events and then do it all again next year. You’ll miss it when you’re gone.

Marina Tsvetaeva, a poet for our time

By Mila Yarovaya

“Hell, my ardent sisters, be assured, Is where we’re bound; we’ll drink the pitch of hell— We, who have sung the praises of the lord With every fiber in us, every cell.”

Or in other words, welcome back to a new year of academic enlightenment and despair. Welcome back to the hedonistic cesspool that is this city, welcome back to the phantasm of cosmopolitan life, welcome back to Trin. Indeed - what a time to be alive in this place of infinite wonders, what a time to be young! As everyone tries to settle into the rhythm of their new routines, I won’t seek to inundate you with a lengthy reading list of all the tomes that you should read in order to make you a better person or prepare you for the year that lies ahead. I don’t want to put our professors out of business, after all. Instead, what I offer you is a morsel of truth, a calming wind of change as we navigate the transition from the stiflingly hot summer to the frigid grinding season. I offer you what our generation is known best for - melancholy, cynicism, and angst. I offer you what the world of English literature has been denied for far too long. I offer you Marina Tsvetaeva - the pearl of Russian poetry.

“Your feeling of insignificance in a teeming metropolis isn’t so different from that of a woman separated from you by time and language who is looking for a place to call her own in the unrecognizable landscape she used to know.”

I know, I know - poetry is SO for the romantic and those of us who have an actual will to continue shuffling upon this mortal coil, and besides, why should you care about a bohemian, bisexual, noble spy who also happens to be one of the most celebrated poets of her time - weird! Despite all this and her incredible writing prowess, Tsvetaeva is most often overshadowed in English literature by her contemporary Anna Akhmatova - most likely due to the latter’s more accessible themes and simplified translation.

However, if you decide to dig just a little, you will find a world filled with the longing, uncertainty, despair, and the need to carve out one’s place in the world. I promise you won’t be disappointed and, if you are, then you can feel free to track me down and sacrifice me to the great Johannes Strachan.

Her displacement and removal are made even more evident after her return from Parisian exile when she remarks, “My father gave this city an entire museum, and there isn’t even a place in it for me.” She was always keenly aware of her, and any person’s, place within the history of time, which she saw as fragile and fleeting, often dedicating portions of her work to the young officers of 1812, whom she saw were just as misguided and doomed by their zeal as her contemporaries who willingly marched into enemy fire.

Tsvetaeva’s formative years were spent witnessing the catastrophic effects of World War I on her country. This is most evident in Marina’s book To Moscow, in which she is forced to reconcile the vibrant Moscow of her youth with the now bleak city, its citizens besieged by ruin and despair.

Despite this stark recognition of and welcoming of death, Tsvetaeva’s work is filled with jubilation and a love of life, most beautifully illustrated in The many fallen ones into the deepest. Her poems, like much of her life, are filled with lightness, extravagance and absurdity, which

“Having been forced to watch the unravelling of our society and degradation of our planet at the hands of the mighty, we are like the poet: standing on the precipice of a world lived and one which may or may not come.”

is what makes her the perfect poet for our time. Having been forced to watch the unravelling of our society and degradation of our planet at the hands of the mighty, we are like a poet: standing on the precipice of a world lived and one which may or may not come, having to evaluate the significance of our lives and mistakes of our ancestors, and ask ourselves what exactly is our place in this cacophony of life, can we ever make one for ourselves, and was there even one to begin with? So as we all settle back into the brand new rhythm of our lives, some feeling supplanted, others invigorated, I hope that you will find that we are all pilgrims in an ever-changing landscape, searching for a piece of eternity that we can make ours so that we don’t go mad. Maybe above all else this is what unites us and your feeling of insignificance in a teeming metropolis isn’t so different from that of a woman separated from you by time and language who is looking for a place to call her own in the unrecognizable landscape she used to know.

The Rooftop Eden:

By Nathan Postma

Finding the perfect graduate program, or frantically networking to land that dream job, are both all too common paths that Trinity students aim to follow post graduation. After toying with these options I decided to go a different way -- and thus, I retired. That is, a year and a half after my final exam, I fill my days with cycling and gardening. Trinity now has two vegetable gardens: a rooftop garden on the north wing of the Munk School, and a patch of raised beds behind St. Hildas. The former is a controlled space built to pilot growing techniques for Trinity’s new building and to research various elements of urban agriculture. The latter is openly accessible and will begin competing with the Quad for the picnic blanket crowd. Both are introductions to what may be included in the new building. I hope these gardens will help people experience food directly and differently, and be inspired to reimagine obscure side yards and patios as sanctuaries which invite a wide spectrum of life. Have you ever really watched a bumblebee? I mean, brought your face up close and seen the scattered pollen glint in the sun? Have you ever grieved for a plant? Especially when their demise is directly attributable to your procrastination? It is clear to me that gardening can connect people with emotions, nature, and each other in ways that everyday routines deny.

I’ve talked to people about this project a lot, and a few questions come up every time:

My meme illiteracy and knack for making accidental puns created one of my most memorable gardening connections. In the buildup to asking a cute classmate to coffee, I realized she was into growing food. Fantastic -- I would give her some of my hyper-local-grown-KappaAlpha veggies and the date would be secured! Of course, I had eaten all my tomatoes already, and had only the most misunderstood of veggies left to offer: the Italian long-purple eggplant. Fortunately the quirky novelty of the gift overshadowed the unintentional double entendre.

Hey, isn’t it winter for the entire time I’m in Toronto? The academic and agricultural calendar are intentionally asymmetrical -- a legacy of a time before farmers could single-handedly harvest acres of corn in a day. But as technology has distanced people from food, there are also ways it can keep gardening going all year round. Heat-trapping greenhouses and LED-fueled, super nutritious greens are being researched as additions to Trinity’s food system. Check out 492lbs of Cucumbers in 4 Weeks?! on Youtube for some inspiration.

TRINITY’S GARDEN

What does “experimental space” mean? It means we love research! This summer, TCES hero Hila Lali has taken on a project to measure the cooling effect on the rooms below the rooftop garden, using the identical Munk South roof as a control. The TrinityONE Environment and Sustainability Stream summer interns assessed growth differences between companion planting schemes. The whole thing began as an academic initiative! What do you do with all those Italian long-purple eggplants? People expect a grand answer here -- one that weaves together an anti-climate change narrative with an acknowledgement of urban social justice issues. The real answer is more genuine, direct, and closer to my hope that people will experience food differently: we eat it! We produce an ideal quantity of fresh, delicious and organic food - too much for one person to eat without waste but not enough to offset Chartwells’ ordering. That is, the perfect amount for community meals. Thursday lunches were a tradition through the summer, and will continue into the school year. A particularly large harvest became lunch for Trinity admin and service staff, and if we somehow have extra we donate it to food banks.

Yo, can we pre on the rooftop garden? This garden was designed as an experimental space to test urban agriculture elements that may be included in the new building. Our research team knew there was a trade-off to selecting the Munk North roof -- ideal growing environment but limited structural capacity and lots of neighbours. Basically foot traffic has to be limited to prevent cracks ending up in the roof. Besides, surface level of the Munk School has a perk the roof garden lacks: shade.

In my numerous conversations with veterans of the “Good Food” movement, this reconnection with food and people is subtlety high leverage, and unquestionably enjoyable. Now (since I’ve retired) it’s up to you guys to shape how the food system works at Trinity.

Inside-Ou t.

A Short Story in Four Parts.

By Florian Naggy

The sun laboured to climb above the rooftops as Calvin stepped out onto the road. The season was passing, and the days were growing shorter, the weather colder. Calvin mounted his bike and began his commute down the empty street, the wind whipping past his face. “Damn! Should’ve brought my hat,” he thought, ears pounding from the cold. Calvin was nearing his destination, a coffee shop. Swiftly he locked his bike up and ducked inside, dreading another monotonous shift at work, eager to be out of the cold.

Late that night, Calvin went to his bed. He cherished the thought of a morning off, a rare thing. As he drifted to sleep, his mind fluttering. A series of incoherent dreams proceeded to fill his subconscious. He was standing on a dirt path that wound its way up a hill, withered greenery on both sides. The sky was partially covered by clouds but the sun was setting, so the way ahead was dimly lit. Calvin climbed, knowing that he was seeking something, and it was farther up the hill. He felt it, without knowing or questioning.

Far too many hours later, the shift was ending. Calvin thought about how little money he had made. He resented this job, that he had to work his way through school. “Why not just let the debts stack up a little higher?” he thought to himself. He was made irritable by the thought that when he got home, his reading and writing would be waiting for him. Others could already have been studying while he was at work. Now they would be meeting up with friends, going out to explore, lazing around the house. Soon, sitting down in the library, Calvin reluctantly opened his books and those thoughts were forced away. He didn’t have time for them.

The clouds above cracked, allowing sunlight to illuminate an area before him with a golden evening glow. There was a black fence ahead; it stretched out in either direction. Beyond the fence impressive trees guarded the inside of what seemed to be a garden. Calvin sped up and saw that the trees stood proud and vibrant in comparison to the dying, limp shrubbery this side of the fence. He could see a cool, clear pool deeper before him, surrounded by bushes bearing a multitude of fruit.

From within the water, a radiance danced to the movement of the shallow waves. The beauty filled Calvin with awe. As he drew closer a dark figure moved forward from a firmly closed gate. The beauty was yet out of reach . . . so distant.

“He was standing on a dirt path that wound its way up a hill, withered greenery on both sides. The sky was partially covered by clouds but the sun was setting, so the way ahead was dimly lit.”

The figure’s face was distorted, and Calvin couldn’t make out who it was. As soon as he caught a glimpse, the face seemed to change. The figure moved towards him aggressively and Calvin felt, without needing to hear the words, that he was not allowed to enter. “No! Go away! Let me in!” Calvin yelled, hate swelling up in him as the awe slipped away and despair took its place.

But hey, look where I am. Almost finished school, almost ready to start making a life for myself. If I can do it, a smart guy like you surely can. I’ve heard you talk; you know how to navigate the idiocy in this world. Don’t tell me you’re upset because it’s not easy. Is that what you want? An easy life?”

The figure was almost upon him as Calvin stepped angrily to the side, trying to keep on towards the garden. The figure extended a hand and caught him by the chest, its fingers digging into his skin. Calvin felt his body shiver and then stretched wide . . . and above him was the dark shadow of his room. It had all been a dream, but it was burned into his memory.

Calvin was impressed by this candor and fortitude but, after reflection, felt unsure of what he wanted. “Thanks for sharing, man.” Mustapha smiled and nodded, clapping him on the back. Calvin had no time to think about Mustapha’s story further; his shift was about to start. An unease remained, though, an unhappiness that his parents were unable to afford to send him to school— he felt as though the world owed him more. “Why should others be allowed to have so much?” he wondered to himself as he watched a glistening BMW drive past his parked bike. He sped along the empty night roads leading to his house. Reaching home, he unlocked the door and went down to the gloom of his basement room, his two roommates already asleep on the floor. Calvin lay in the dark and listened to the “clack clack clack” of the broken fan. He questioned the disparity between the BMW and the bike, and the experience of the person who owned each. He fell asleep with this thought: “if we shared what we had, what could people like him do?”

Later, back at the coffee shop, Calvin prepared to start his shift, replacing his co-worker Mustapha. Calvin sighed, “It sucks, man. I just don’t have any energy to study. I’m always playing a balancing act, and I always get the short end of the stick. Why doesn’t the university offer more aid so that guys like us can study and get the grades we need for the careers we want? It’s like they push out the guys who aren’t born into money, who need to work! How can we ever catch up?” Mustapha looked at him and pitied his distress, “Hey man, can I get personal for a moment? We all made sacrifices to get here, I feel you. Nobody got to where they are for free. Did you know that I live on a couch in a shared den? My rent is next to nothing. I have to do it because I don’t get any aid at all. I haven’t seen my dad in years and my mom passed away, so I sure can’t fill out the forms. I have to work thirty hours a week to afford food and rent.

To be continued...

DESPERATE & DRUNK:

A Food Guide to Trinity College By Jess Horton

The honourable and genius Chef Gusteau was on to something when he stated that “anyone can cook.” Now, I’m sure at the time he wasn’t thinking that malnourished Trin students (we love you Strachan, but not that much) would take his words to heart, yet here we are. If anyone can cook, doesn’t that mean that even drunk, hungover, and seriously stressed-out procrastinators can too? Unfortunately, no! Gusteau may have been onto something, but he underestimated how lazy the “munchies” make our weak souls.

1. Late-Night Munchies/Drunk Foods All right folks, no one’s dissing a good, greasy Domino’s slice (or three) at 4:00 am, found in some random room at the end of another Welch party. However, here at Trinity College, we can be more inventive. We’re 1 in 20, right? Let’s make use of those 4.0 GPAs New College wishes they had and fine-tune some new drunk foods to enjoy, ones that come without long walks or UberEats charges.

As cooking is off the table for most of us, I took it upon myself to compile a list of grub options for the first-time drinkers, second-year experimenters, thirdyear limit pushers, and fourth-year desperate buggers. I made it easy for you and I split my supremely wise advice into FOUR (4) categories for you, with one bonus non-food tidbit of advice at the end. Feel free to thank me later with soppy messages of gratitude and UofT bookstore gift cards!

Trusty Google would report that the greasiest foods taste best when one is intoxicated, so get intoxicated and give them a try! Pizza, McNuggets, fries, burritos, burgers, nachos, junior chickens with Thai sauce, etc. They are all within five minutes. But what about just straight-up dense, sugary food, you ask? We live in the heart of Toronto! Great sushi, dumplings, noodles, Oreo McFlurries with fudge or caramel are everywhere! But alas, if you want healthier options because the Freshman 15 isn’t on your bucket list, stock up at Metro down the road. Get sweet fruits such as green apples, cold snap peas, strawberries and mangoooooo! Your mouth will thank you, I promise.

2. Hangover Cures No one wants to trudge around town looking for food the morning after a long, memorable/unmentionable night. Strachan offers almost everything you could want for the headache, grumpiness and regret that sets in once you decide food is the thing needed for your body and soul. Carefully curated by students, the best Strachan brunch foods to help make your hangovers suck just a little less are as follows: hash browns (this is a big one guys, don’t be embarrassed to grab a plateful), waffles with whipped cream, coffee, orange juice, hard-boiled eggs and bananas (these last two are brought to you by someone who is “practically an alcoholic at this point”).

3. Late-Night Study Sessions Late-night study sessions are an epidemic that few university students are actually immune to. Cramming, procrastinating and last-minute writing will happen to the best of us. So, to push through, brain food is a must. Your brain is a muscle and studying = exercise. Logically, exercise requires food to fuel your body. It’s simple math, really. For me, a go-to late-night study snack has always been carrots and hummus. As disgustingly healthy as this is, my boring food choice has a specific reason. Hummus comes in a large variety of flavours, so can satisfy anyone. Carrots make a “snap” when you bite them, and this wakes you up. Indispensable! These are gold-mine tricks people; I kid you not.

Remember: carbs are your friends, people!

4. Preparation: When, Where, Why and How to get Some Food for... Free?

5. BONUS (Because I Love and Cherish You All!)

As of now, my suggestions have been scattered from the McDonald’s on Bloor, to Strachan, to things you could buy yourself at Metro. But alcohol is expensive, and if you’re looking to save a bit of money in the food department, stealing – I mean using your “allyou-can-eat” meal plan to the full extent – might be the way to go.

As much as I hope you’ve enjoyed this whirlwind “advice” about something I deeply love (yes, food!), taking care of yourself while intoxicated, recovering from said intoxication, and being a “good student” is the most important thing. I’m not telling you to buy all those helpful meds that will ease the headaches, backpains and stomach discomforts you’ll surely suffer. I’m simply reminding you to use that big brain of yours to figure out which kid’s mom already packed all those good meds, and who might be gullible enough to let you mooch off them. (PS – No shame on those kids. I’m one of them too. Thanks, Mom!).

Preparation is paramount to having what you want, when you want it. Strachan might not have Chef Gusteau’s Michelin-star-level food, but there are some hidden gems that might be worth risking Paula’s evil eye for: Nutella packets and sliced bread, apples (a hot commodity), bananas (a hotter commodity when they’re actually ripe), double chocolate brownies, hot chocolate and tea packets and all of the cookies you can stealthily wrap in napkins

T he Real-Real: Sex and Relationships with the Real Housewives of Trinity College

By Carol and Barb

Summer is coming to an end, but that doesn’t mean our lives are going to get any less steamy. We’ve had some sizzling times, and The Real Housewives of Trinity College are back to share all of our sexy stories and highly unsolicited - and likely life-damaging - advice on how to survive sex and relationships while at Trinity College.

3) Another lesson learned: if they ask to call you Daddy, just say yes. We’ve learned it’s a WAY better power trip than getting a 4.0 in Trin One. And that is all we will say about that… 4) Summer slowly sizzled out and I got bored of my hookup buddy. In true housewife fashion, what did I do? Fucked their roommates! And I mean ALL of them. Not only will you get to taste a little bit of everything, but you won’t even have to memorize a new route home. Win! Besides, who doesn’t like a little bit of high-stakes, real-life Russian roulette?

At the time of writing this, we were sitting poolside, summing up our summer scandals while two screwdrivers deep, trying to reflect on what our most recent questionable choices taught us (trust us, it’s a lot). We’re going to share with you, but we’ll keep it short and sweet, since we don’t want to incriminate ourselves too much ;)

5) Public sex. Yes, it’s illegal, but it’s also sexy. These past two summers have really opened some doors for me (no pun intended). I don’t know how I’ve found myself in these situations, butt naked in the middle of a forest, in broad daylight, but somehow it has now potentially (trying to protect myself from the authorities) happened twice. I never thought I would be a sexin-public type of girl, but sometimes there’s really no other option.

1) This summer I became a devout believer in all things Holy. I know you don’t believe me, but with G** as my witness, I really tried to shy away from any sins. Unfortunately (fortunately!!!), I became quite well acquainted with a little scenario devout believers might recognize as « the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. » I mean, if you’re going to collect one, you might as well collect them all, if you know what I mean. Nothing like family business, am I right? 2) I really enjoyed my summer far away from the lack of palatable snacks at U of T, the « Harvard of the North, » if you will. A little pro-tip for all my Trinity travellers though: there is absolutely nothing less sexy and more mortifying than telling someone (mid dalliance), that you go to the « Harvard in the North, » only to find out they actually go to THE ACTUAL Harvard. Not kosher. I’ve never had to get dressed and run so fast in my life.

But enough about us. It’s time to focus on you. All you bright-eyed froshies and jaded upper-years that need to be reminded of the dos-and-don’ts of hooking up and dating at Trinity: otherwise known as Trincest. Yes, you naughty little fiends, you know exactly what we’re talking about. It’s that feeling when you wake up in a stranger’s bed, only to realize that somehow, God forgive you, you’ve ended up in Welch, in *another* Welch bed. Or when you finally finish doing the nasty and are forced to sneak out of Whit, somehow staying away from the prying eyes of the Whit Bits and those chatty Hendy gals. It’s that sweaty, heart-pounding, shaky sensation you experience as you slip out of Massey yet again, a thief in the night. Ew. We’ve been there too, and so in the spirit of the new school year, the housewives have decided to share their tips on how to survive Trincest:

1) For the love of all things holy (#thebishopisababe, #thefatherthesonandtheholyspirit), please dispose of your Trin goggles A$AP Rocky, or better yet, Leave. Them. At. Home! We tried to tell the Frosh team not to hand them out this year, but here we are. Take them off. See? Isn’t that much better? When you first arrive during Frosh Week, we know that you are STUNNED by the amount of attractive people you see. How is everyone so much hotter than the people from your high school? They’re not. You’re just horny and these faces are new. Don’t fall into a frosh week relationship that is doomed to end in a few weeks when you realize the mistake you’ve made, or hook up with another Trin frosh before you know what they’re going to turn out to be like. Besides, can you imagine starting at a new school and limiting your options as soon as you arrive? Keep your doors open.

3) Can’t hook up in your room for whatever reason? Your roommate is back, the bed bugs are back, or you just want to spice up your sex life? Some of our favourite places to hook up with people on campus are outside of our bedrooms. The steam tunnels can be sexy under the right circumstances, except don’t lie down on the stairs (it hurts), and also make sure to keep your ears open - you never know when someone could be coming down to do some midnight laundry, or when Jason the Bursar decides actually to show up to his office. Shower sex is overrated, in our opinions (only three positions? Water is not a lubricant? People can see our feet under the stall?), plus there’s nothing more awkward than walking out of the stall and trying to sneak your fuck buddy back to your room with no one noticing. But, if the options are limited it still gets the job done.

2) What to do if you have a roommate? Please, for the love of our holy anglican God, only hookup with someone else who doesn’t have a roommate. Nothing sucks more than walking in on your roomie going down on the same nerd you sit next to in POL100, or worse, having them do it while you try to sleep during the night. We’ve been there, and it’s simply passé. Can someone say secret exhibitionist? If you have a roommate, only go after people with a single room. For all of our sakes.

4) Trin is small. Like really small. Like us before we married rich and became housewives. Yeah, THAT small. Everyone knows everyone’s business. We would complain about it, but we love knowing the gossip. It makes our Strachan day-drinking a lot more interesting. If you’re trying to keep a hookup low key, or just don’t want to piss off your floormates, make sure to keep it quiet (the walls are thin and, trust us, we’ve been there, no one wants to hear your O). How to keep quiet? Consider investing in sound-proofing your room. Or spread a counter-rumour about yourself so that you keep everyone guessing. Our personal favourite? Move as far away from res as possible, and as close as possible to the corporate conglomerates on King Street. So there you have it. We’ve run out of vodka, and everyone knows we’re no good without it. We’re off to snag someone to pay for a refill of our screwdrivers for our poor little housewife asses. Until next time, Trin. We’ll be waiting…

You’re In That Room Congratulations, you’ve made it. It doesn’t matter if Trinity was your top pick since you started looking at schools, or if you happened to fall in backwards (such as myself ). Take a moment and breathe it in, look around the quad -- but be sure not to step on the grass. Whether it’s what you expected or not, you’re here. In all likelihood, you’ve recently finished having the same conversation with 400 of your new best friends. What school did you go to? What classes did you take? What clubs did you do? At what stage in your career do you think you’ll be in 15 years? Maybe not the last one, but you get the gist.

BY JUlIEN SMIT

Don’t take this article as some bitter third-year telling you about the rampant self-absorption of today’s society and how everyone only wants to flex about how smart and cool they are. I want to show you that it is quite the opposite, that the fact that everyone around you is so exceptional will make you better. Force you to be better. When I first got here I was greeted by debate champions, national level athletes, and people at the highest level of both academics and extracurriculars. It was a genuinely humbling experience. If I tell someone I played a varsity sport, they captained that team at their school. If I say I got a 6 in a Higher Level IB class, they got a 7. Everyone I spoke to had already done what I’d done, and then some.

Go ahead: answer them. Tell everyone how you were a straight-A student, that you did Model UN and debate, and that you were a varsity athlete, in the band, AND valedictorian. As condescending as I may sound, I do honestly believe that people will be interested in who you are and where you came from. But what I am saying is that you have to be ready to get an earful in return. Maybe they took the same class as you, or played the same sport, or competed in the same debate tournament. Doesn’t matter. What matters is: you are now in an environment where everyone did something impressive, where everyone is prominent.

For you to be sitting here right now, you have to have done something special; and as a continuation of that, everyone you talk to has to have done the same.

You are now in an environment where everyone did something impressive, where everyone is prominent.

What I’m trying to get across is that while the intellectual pissing contest does get annoying from time to time, these are the people who will make you better.

I want to make sure that I don’t sound like Syndrome from the Pixar Movie The Incredibles, claiming that “if everyone is special, no one is.” My point is closer to the saying “if you’re the smartest person in the room, find a different room.” I don’t care who you are, or how smart you think you are. Everyone benefits from having people around you who know more than you do. Though, if you get in a debate about your major with someone who studies a totally different field of knowledge, given that it’s your major, I really hope that you know more on that topic than they do. But even in such a scenario, you will have to defend your knowledge in a totally different manner than in any class you’ll even be taking in university. Even if you’re convinced that they are totally ignorant, and the debate is the most infuriating experience of your life, I promise you that it will make you better, because the people here all got into this room the same way you did: excellence of some sort.

What I am trying to get across is that while the intellectual pissing contest can get annoying from time to time, these people at Trinity are the ones who will make you better. If everyone who’s come here has been following the “find a different room” mantra I mentioned earlier, you’re now in that room. For better or for worse, you’re now in the room where there is nowhere else for you to go. You’re in a room with the highest average GPA at the University of Toronto, the best school in Canada. Take advantage of that. Take it from my own experience that there is so much that you can learn from the people around you. If I’m honest, I’ve probably learned more from the friends I’ve made here than most of the classes that I’ve taken.

I am aware of the problems that come with the constant competition to be the smartest. However, as someone who has friends at schools all across Canada, let me tell you: it is far more enjoyable when your average conversation is more interesting than discussing who can sled down a set of stairs fastest on a container lid (but if anyone thinks they can beat me hmu).

Vent

with

Vicky

Vent to me! Vent with me! Vent about me! Eh, is there like Trinity tinder (need to fucking end the gay draught and also don’t wanna go all the wayyy to another residence on the regular) Eh, sometimes you gotta make sacrifices my friend! Use Other than that, you’re probably better off just flip- that booty call walk as your warm up and get what you ping a couple pages forward to the horoscopes sec- journeyed for, anon! tion and trusting the stars to guide you.That’s my first piece of advice. But if by some miracle you’ve Side note: by all means create a Trinity tinder. You decided to keep reading, I thank you, I really do try could call it Trinder. I just copyrighted that. Now you’ll my best! What follows may give you a laugh, may have to give me a portion of the business. That’s Rotteach you something, or may be a complete waste of man, baby! time. Whichever it ends up being, you’re welcome. Opinion on sororities or frats? Are you and Sophia DiNicolo secretly the On sororities: same person? I can neither confirm nor deny this allegation. *queue the Hannah Montana theme song* The way I see it, two things qualify me to write this advice column. Firstly, I am old. I am a 2T0. I’ve seen things. Secondly, I managed to think of a clever title for this column (even as a Rotman kid).

What are the best clubs at Trinity? Sorry to be cheesy but really, all of them! Find your passion and follow it, anon. Also, if no club seems to fit your interests, you can start one. For example, if you wanted to start the Vicky-M-Adoring-Fan-Club, you could! I might even say that I would be honoured. What’s the worst thing that happened to you in Uni? Oh honey, I’m going to need a full issue of the Salterrae to answer that question. Bold of you to ask. I’ll give you On fraternities: a little anecdote from my archives. Some casualties I’ve witnessed at U of T frats include: the floor caving in, a treasured pair of jeans tragicalThe nightmare begins on the TTC. You can already ly torn by a window, and a desperate soul climbing imagine it, right? Well the TTC is SO delayed and SO through a window for the sole purpose of dancing to congested that you’re going to be late for your hardest “Despacito.” exam, which of course is at 9 AM. Ever had that exam be only two hours when really it should be three? Ever Where can I find the hottest daddies? Asking find yourself crying before, after, and during said exam? for a friend And then, ever had Jerome spot you and pull you into TRINDER: coming soon to a device near you his office because you were looking like an absolute Also, we all know who you’re really asking for pal. wreck? Yeah well, jokes on you, I have.

Will there be hot/cold drinkable water available on every floor of St. Hilda residence? Contrary to popular belief, I have never lived on res (who, Sophia?) and therefore, cannot comment on the drinkability of Trinity’s water. Let’s play it safe and stick to alcohol, shall we?

philosophy major, wearing those philosophy glasses (you know EXACTLY which ones I’m talking about). I bet you’re sitting in your PHL101 tutorial right now, just having offered to play devil’s advocate in hopes of dazzling the class with a Latin phrase or two (that you Googled before class). To answer your question, I leave you with a quote from a good cop (if not the ultimate I’m nervous about making new friends, espe- detective slash genius) Jacob “Jake” Peralta, “eyes closed, cially as an international student. What is head first, can’t lose.” the atmosphere like in the dorms and dining Would you rather have just one eye switched halls? Hi anon! Time to get real. Starting university is a nerve- with one nipple or would you switch both eyes wracking time for everyone, but don’t worry about be- with both nipples? (NOTE: not switching niping an international student; UofT is home to many ples with eyes is NOT AN OPTION...) international students! Congrats on being brave enough Ah, the important questions. Honestly, I’m going with the one eye switch. You could to journey this far, and welcome to UofT and Trin! get a really cool eye patch to cover the nipple (if you so I have been a commuter since my first year, which does desired to) and just imagine the power of revealing a not qualify me to answer the dorm query, but I also nipple in place of an eye under that patch. did stress about eating in the dining hall! Turns out, That’s big dick nip energy. the worry was all for naught! People aren’t usually as aloof and cool as they pretend. Sit with strangers, say I thought I supported Doug Ford’s politics, hello! There are also ways to make friends outside of but now I’m realizing I’m just really, reTrinity such as classes, clubs, and events! Remember to ally sexually attracted to him. This isn’t a be yourself. This way you will find people who share question I just needed someplace to say it your interests, and also learn from those who are differ- anonymously. Sorry for voting Ford, everyent than you. That’s one of the positives of going to a body :( Although, if you know where I can big school, so many potential friends everywhere! And find nude pics of Doug Ford or even just fake nudes, I’d really appreciate it thanks... you’ve always got me, pal! I promise not to vote for him anymore! Is hooking up with people at Trinity a bad Sincerely, guilty and confused Dear guilty and confused, idea? As this is not a plea for advice and LMFAOOO x infinity If you are a first-year, I’m sure that answer will come just a confession, I do not have to you. As for the rest of you, Trincest has either been much to say (or maybe too much to committed or witnessed by you, and you don’t need my say). There is a federal election coming up, however. Nothing like a readvice. bound to get your mind off things! Is there such thing as a “good cop?” (aside Thoughts on Andrew Scheer? I hear he backs Trinder? from a dead cop, obviously) This seems like a question that would be posed by a

L E A R N I NG H OW T O SA LT BY REECE YOUNG

A first-year’s perspective on O-Week 2019

I grew up surrounded by forests and farmland and life – but I guess college is all about trying new things. I attended a small rural school where everyone in my class sucked, but it didn’t matter. was also on my soccer team. In my community, most peo- Even with those brief interactions, the accurately named ple have not attended university, and people stay close to ‘Awkward Lunch’ was fucking awkward, though the wasps their roots. So, when I announced my decision to take on certainly came to play. The tours and whatnot were manthe University of Toronto, looks of puzzlement and unease ageable, but my scant free time was spent frantically texting would flit across people’s faces. After a while, I began to friends back home, under the assumption that there was question the decision myself. Who was I to think I would something wrong with the fact I hadn’t determined my enhold up at Trinity? After all, all I did to prove myself was tire friend group only seven hours in. write some sticky bullshit on a photo of a boat. Dinner and beyond was where everything began to I had heard all the rumours and stereotypes sur- feel right. We crammed fourteen people into a single dorm. rounding Trinity College: “Trin kids are just a bunch of It turns out, friendship is hard to avoid when you’re litsnobby rich kids” or, of course, the classic: “Everyone in erally laying across several people you hardly know. After Trin is just there because Daddy got them in”. Foolishly, I only twelve hours of knowing these people, we danced all believed them. You can only imagine the chemical reaction night long on the floors of Seeley Hall. What really stood those fears caused in the pit of my stomach. out to me that night is how we mobilized and took care of So, on check-in day, when my car pulled up to the each other. When someone held back, they were pulled in. gaggle of blue-shirted frosh leaders screaming with excite- When someone needed a hoist to get home, willing arms ment about another new little froshie, my mind raced with were ready to help. After some late-night chats on a dorm panic: room floor, I went to bed feeling like everything was going “Shit. Did I bring too many plants? Are plants to be just fine. weird? I totally brought too many plants. Will they notice And it was. The next few days became a panoply of I brought a blender? I wasn’t supposed to. Did I bring too new friends, tireless laughs and immersing myself in tradimuch? Is my car embarrassingly old? What dad-joke is my tions that made me feel like I was part of something special. father going to make this time? Oh god, maybe I should And I realized that being part of Trinity College is special, just hide the plants.” but not for the reasons I had been fed. It’s because I am surI got out of the car. Here it is: Trinity College. The rounded by people who want to discuss the major political first day of the next four years. and social issues of our world, but who want to crack a few “Welcome to Trin! Oh my god, I like your plants!” drinks while doing it. It comes from more than Trinity’s I relaxed immediately. Everything was out of my car daunting standard of academia (and partying), or how hard in minutes and on route to my new home, Body-267. I was it is to get an offer of acceptance. It comes from being surleft standing a bit dumbfounded, cacti in hand, saturated rounded by people who genuinely care about one another. in smile, looking at the Hogwarts-esque castle that I would We are the smallest (and best) college and it is already evinow call home. dent to me how that creates a genuine family culture. It’s After my parents left somewhat unwillingly, I left funny how prim everyone thinks we are here at Trin. Yes, my door open and played the guitar. I figured the babes we do in fact get all Harry-Potter on Wednesday nights and would be flowing in shortly and the new bros would soon have an official matriculation, but I can’t picture any other follow. That’s how it worked in American Pie, right? Twenty place in the world where you can climb on a third-year’s minutes passed with neither babes nor bros. I walked down shoulders and run around the room screaming nonsense to the hall and shook a few hands. Little did I know in that get “elected” to student government. moment that I had just met several of my soon-to-be best In the first few weeks, I not only learned not to friends here at Trinity. walk on the grass and that the second years were not lying When I hit the Quad, all the stereotypical assump- when they said, “Strachan during Frosh is the best you’ll tions others had tossed at me about Trin students dispersed. ever know it” (even though you guys did lie often). I learned People seemed kind, and goofy, and smart, and awkward. what it meant to be a Trin student. It means confidence To my right a couple of guys were tossing a football and, and ambition. It means self-doubt and caring for others. It to my left, an intensely sweaty, hairy, and joyous Iranian means that if I were to ask myself the same question that man was dancing non-stop to the top 100 list from the last circled my mind a few weeks ago: Who am I? The answer decade (I think he’s still at it). It all felt very ‘college’. I got would be, without hesitation, that like my new compatricalled into a game of hacky sack with a bunch of boys who25ots, I am the salt of the earth. had hair as long as mine. I had never hacked a sack in my

The Student Life Equilibriu m: Finding Balance in an Imbalanced World By Ellie Schoeffel

“Sleep, social life, grades… pick one”: this question is part of the “get to know you” formula incoming Trinity first-years post to Facebook as part of their initial interaction with the community. Responses often include a self-deprecating comment about grades or a refusal to choose just one, an early introduction the balancing act implicit in university life. This seemingly simple question represents both a cardinal struggle for the larger U of T student population and a Trinity-specific dilemma. The question of choice between sleep, social life, and grades presents a microcosm of the conflicting obligations and opportunities that are faced by the Trinity student. Students are asked to decide between working and sleeping, this club or that group, a quiet dorm night or heading out with friends. Which will you miss out on?

During my first year as a Trinity student, I had this prevailing fear I was always missing out on something.

if I was going to make any informed or logical decisions, I couldn’t be caught up in that feeling. But how is that possible? How can you take in everything UofT and Trinity have to offer while still exploring burgeoning friendships, a new city, and taking care of your own mental and physical health? Should you select classes on subjects you already know you love, or should you take a chance on something new? Can you afford to forgo sleep and grind out that paper, or should you rest up for your 9 a.m. quiz? Is it better to go all in on Trinity activities, or extend yourself into the wider U of T community? I have realized that instead of getting caught up in all of the overwhelming options, all I could do is follow my gut, throw myself into my choices and not be afraid to recognize that a decision was the wrong one. Sleep, friends, and academics should all feature in your daily life, and if you are missing one of these elements consistently, check in with yourself. It is easy to lose sight of the big picture, and to lose sight of yourself. A day of studying without breaks isn’t realistic for most people, but neither is going into a full Adults tell us that university was the best years of their week of classes after a weekend of partying and no sleep. life: they met some of their best friends, they joined this cool There is no formula to be a well-rounded healthy club, they travelled. When faced with a packed class sched- student, and no one has found the “perfect balance.” What ule, a bunch of extracurriculars, adolescent sleep needs, and a I have learned, however, is that carving out time to myself pool of new people, it never feels like there are enough hours is a key part of keeping my sanity. So is pushing myself in the day. At Trinity, there are so many amazing oppor- out of introversion when I was being lazy. So is knowtunities to get involved in student governance, niche clubs, ing when to skip that party to study, and feeling better mindfulness activities, social events, and fun get-togethers, about it later. What I have learned is that what “everyone etc . . . We are so lucky, and yet choosing one thing and else” seems to be able to manage might not be manageskipping out on another is an inevitable reality that can also able for you, and the truth is that no one can do it all. breed guilt, indecision, and FOMO (fear of missing out). The notion of balance as equilibrium, as a homeoDuring my first year as a Trinity student, I had this stasis that looks the same in every situation for every person, prevailing fear I was always missing out on something. There is a myth. Balance and well-being are concepts that differ for would always be an event I couldn’t attend because of class every person, and are going to take different forms dependor club meeting, a friend I kept meaning to catch up with ing on context. Trinity is a college full of motivated achievand never did, a reading (oh who am I kidding, readings) ers and passionate individuals. Indecision, mistakes, being that got pushed aside. The chaos of new faces, activities, and overwhelmed and confused are all factors that can steer you opportunities of Frosh were both invigorating and draining. towards a clear notion of your priorities, goals, and most I thought I was overwhelmed by choices at the Trinity clubs 26importantly, your happiness. Moderation across all discifair, but as I stepped into the UofT clubs fair, I realized that plines and activities is key. I wish you luck finding your balance because, believe me, I am still looking for mine.

Salt and Fantasea the Trinity Fiction Writer’s Club By Vikram Nijhawan There are two types of people in this world. This is hardly a novel concept. Everyone from Jesus Christ to Mark Twain to Clint Eastwood has propounded the idea fairly well. But probably my favourite interpretation of this timeless maxim is from George R. R. Martin, everyone’s favourite sadist-turned-fantasy author. His bold claim referred to writers specifically, and he split them into two kinds: the architects and the gardeners. “The architects,” he says, “plan everything ahead of time, like an architect building a house. . . . They have the whole thing designed and blueprinted out before they even nail the first board up. The gardeners dig a hole, drop in a seed, and water it. They kind of know what seed it is. . . . But as the plant comes up and they water it, they don’t know how many branches it’s going to have, they find out as it grows.” Why is this relevant? Because I think most of us, myself included, identify as gardeners. We may possess some latent writing talent which occasionally surfaces when required, such as when responding to an inane pictorial prompt for, say, an application to a prestigious college. But most of the time, we let that talent go to waste, not practicing or honing our skill. We love the end result, a beautiful flower, but not necessarily the process of creating it. Worst of all, we only write when struck by that most pretentious of all artistic feelings: inspiration. Stasis, waiting for inspiration, these are of course detrimental to the one who aims to write. I myself was afflicted, and in desperate need of some structure and organization in my first year. Fatefully, one morning in Strachan Hall, an opportunity for such presented itself.

I was approached about starting a creative writing club at Trinity by an acquaintance by the name of Ross. The first meeting had a small turnout – just me, Ross, and another mutual friend – but we were determined, and it turned into the most productive Thursday I’d had in a while. After returning from the holidays, change was afoot for the Trinity Fictions Writer’s Club. Ross decided not to return to UofT for the winter semester, and I was given the mantle of leadership. In preparation for this responsibility, I sought out authorial advice. This is where I stumbled across a hidden gem at Bakka-Phoenix, the local sci-fi fantasy bookstore. It was titled Writing Alone, Writing Together: A Guide for Writers and Writing Groups, by veteran writing teacher Judy Reeves. I got home and opened it up, and shortly into my reading, a fantastic quote leapt from the page, lassoing my attention. Describing the importance of making time to write, Reeves highlights the following: “Waiting for inspiration to descend before you write is like waiting for Godot. Interminable.” Pithy, poignant, and the type of truth one would expect to find in the Gospel, not some shelf-filler in an indie bookstore, I realized it was time to trade in the gardening boots for some construction boots, the shovel for a pencil and blueprint paper. In other words, it was time to act like an architect. and “Pass the paper between writers every 5 minutes.” Throughout the semester, on a biweekly basis, I approached the club with that mindset. I conjured up ideas for prompts, narrowing down the ones most feasible for a one-hour block. Some proved to be particularly popular, such as a Valentine’s Daythemed session called “Write From the Heart.”

Worst of all, we only write when struck by that most pretentious of all artistic feelings: inspiration.

That meeting yielded a record high turnout, all of three people. Unfortunately, the attendance at future meetings plateaued around that number. Themes in follow-up sessions included such original ideas as “Make your own fantasy creature” Initially, I’d liken the Trinity Fiction Writers Club to a tiny bud at the start of the year, which had blossomed into something substantial by the end. But now, I see it as a small building, like a cottage. A mere bundle of planks it was when I began but, with a little discipline and design, now a cozy home, big enough for two or four club members. At first glance, the existence of such a club at Trinity might seem out of place. Surely we wouldn’t dare encroach on the territory of a certain other UofT college, more renowned for supporting the literature scene, and the alma mater of Canada’s obligatorily favourite author (Hint: What’s next, a Cat’s Eyes café adjacent to Strachan?) But I truly believe the Fiction Writers group serves a valuable purpose at our college. It provides the opportunity for writing practice in a casual, non-committal environment. All that’s required is showing up once every two weeks with your favourite pen in hand, hear the prompt, and scratch something down

within twenty minutes, there being no further obligation to share your work unless you wish to. There’s nothing to be ashamed of by identifying as a gardener. It’s truly one of the greatest joys of being a writer. After all, some of the finest artworks were created by merely tilling the backyard soils of one’s soul. But we could all glean a thing or two from the architect’s mindset: precision and organization. These traits won’t just help you in writing, but in whatever career path lies in your future. A person can only rely on natural talent so much before he or she has to put in the effort. Martin’s duality concerning writers has another implication. There are two types of writers in this world: successful ones, and those who, for all their talent and potential, don’t cut it (commercially, at least). Some writers are born great, others achieve greatness through perseverance. The Trinity College Fiction Writing Club is a club of perseverance, and we call to you, O gardeners, to come and lay the foundations, to build a house amid the garden.

Songs to Serenade Your Lover With Based on Their Zodiac Sign by archana raguparan Disclaimer: No one actually knows with 100% certainty if astrology is real or not. But, if you find yourself standing in the quad with a boombox playing one of the following songs only to have your “lover” throw an empty beer can at you whilst flipping you off… it’s probably because their moon is in Virgo.

Libra (Sep. 23 - Oct. 22) Lil Wayne is an extremely wealthy man. His success as a rapper is mostly what his song Uproar is about. However, his Libra shows through in the lyrics “listening to Bono, you listen to Donald” which speaks to his political preferences since Libras are constantly seeking out justice. It is also indicative of a Libra since they are music snobs; love that for Weezy. Your Libra lover will love this song because they are passionate about money, music, and justice (definitely a weird combination).

Scorpio (Oct. 23 - Nov. 21) Power, money, focus, and some seriously good timing for success: these are the traits of a Scorpio. One of the world’s best-selling artists is 6 God himself, Drake. His iconic lyrics from his song Gyalchester “I don’t take naps / me and the money are way too attached to go and do that” are textbook Scorpio (but also similar to basically any successful rapper’s lyrics). Any Scorpio hearing this song will quickly set out to get on Drake’s level, and they just may do it, so it is a smart move getting with a Scorpio now before they really pop off.

Aries (Mar. 21 - Apr. 19)

Lady Gaga’s Million Reasons is a brutally honest, negative Yelp review of her romantic partner who is “giving [her] a million reasons to let [them] go.” This is severe Aries energy since it displays their romantic impatience and their tendency to quickly move on to the next new, shiny thing. They prefer to be honest and direct, which is why Gaga is such a savage in this song. Your Aries lover will definitely appreciate the tune, but you can hope will not send you a link to it when inevitably breaking up with you.

Taurus (Apr. 20 - May. 20) Good As Hell by Lizzo. We have all heard it. We have all appreciated its message. With lyrics such as, “if he don’t love you anymore / just walk your fine ass out the door,” we have all felt like Lizzo has had our backs. That is a Taurus for you, constantly in a practical mindset even in the most emotional of situations. This song will seem like common sense to your Taurus lover, so actually, they might not even be that impressed.

Sagittarius (Nov. 22 - Dec. 21) Billie Eilish is all about freedom, whether that be freedom to pursue one’s goals, to express themselves creatively, or just to be impatient with “normal.” Billie imbibes all of these Sagittarius attributes (this could also be due to the fact she was homeschooled). In her song idontwannabeyouanymore she sings about wanting to be free even from herself and being “made from a broken mold.” Sagittarians will eat that shit up.

Gemini (May . 21 - Jun. 20) Who is Colbie Caillat? A Gemini. But she is also the singer of Bubbly, which you have definitely heard before but probably not for the past ten years unless you frequent clothing stores that target retired moms. This song is literally about orgasming, but aside from the serious importance Geminis place on sexual pleasure in relationships, this song will relate to Geminis who are in love because it takes a lot (of orgasms) for a Gemini to commit to someone and feel safe around them. But when they do, they have likely found “the one”-- hence the lyrics “everytime you hold me in your arms / I’m comfortable enough to feel your warmth” and “we are hiding in a safer place [...] please stay for a while.”

Aq uarius (Jan. 20 - Feb. 18)) Capricorn (Dec. 22 - Jan. 19) Capricorns are independent, ambitious, determined risk-takers. Hence why ZAYN broke his contract to leave one of the most successful boy bands at the time, when he only had to stay one more year to earn a ton of money. Don’t worry though, he is still immensely rich and, being the Capricorn he is, he’s also very sure of himself, which explains his lyrics in Still Got Time: “I know I’m working my magic / and I know you’re digging my fabric.” Only a Capricorn would ever find this acceptable to say, which is why you should play this song for your Capricorn crush.

Cancer (Jun. 21 - Jul. 22)

Everyone’s favourite Cancer queen is Ariana Grande. You have probably heard about the hardships Ariana has had to go through while simultaneously being a wildly successful female artist. But if anyone was going to go through a whole host of highs and lows in life, it would definitely be a Cancer. They are unpredictable in their behaviour (one day they are loving and nurturing, and the next day they cannot stand you). Thus, they tend to lead unpredictable lives. Ariana’s Cancer sun is seriously showing in needy. Every single lyric in this song describes what Cancers are like in love. So, if you play this song for your Cancer lover they will definitely relate to it and probably cry. But I am warning you, upon listening to this song, you will seriously reconsider pursuing a Cancer in the first place.

The most Aquarius song is Antisocial by Ed Sheeran (and Travis Scott). I’m going to be honest, Aquarians can be the weird ones in the Zodiac because they are shy yet eccentric. Thus, I personally am grateful when an Aquarian decides they need “some space” like Ed does in this song. Also, Ed expresses his concern for people messing up his “vibe” in this song, which is just the top concern Aquarians have at any given moment.

Pisces (Feb. 19 - Mar. 18)

A Pisces knows what you are up to. They just know. They can smell your bullshit from a mile away because they are the most intuitive of the zodiac. This is why Carrie Underwood knew she was being cheated on even before the chorus of Before He Cheats. She totally called it in the music video too. Do not, for the love of God, cheat on a Pisces. In fact, play them this song to show them that you understand the consequences.

Leo (Jul. 23 - Aug. 22) What do you mean you don’t take Lil Pump seriously as a musician? Well it does not matter because he is a Leo and he knows that he is exceptionally talented and requires no other validation than his own. Leo’s are not fans of authority, they prefer to be the one in charge – especially of their own success – which I think is why he came up with this lyric in Gucci Gang “fucking my teacher, call it tutoring.”

Virgo (Aug. 23 - Sep. 22)

PSA, Virgos notice everything. Every little detail will be paid attention to. That’s why Michael Jackson spends an entire song obsessing over Billie Jean, mentioning the smell of her perfume, the fact that heads turn to look at her, the eyes of the baby photo she was showing him, etc. That’s a lot, Michael. That’s far too much detail used to describe the time you made sure a girl got a paternity test.