NBA and NHL headed in dangerous directions

The Carmelo Anthony trade, the Deron Williams trade, the Tomas Kaberle trade. Some smaller, less significant deals (get excited Habs fans...Paul Mara! Again!). These recent transactions have gotten me a little concerned about two things, one in each league.

NBA: Superstars only wanting to play for storied franchises and/or attractive cities.

The Miami Heat. Need I say more? In the years following the Heat winning their title in 2006, Flash needed help. In and around 2009, Wade must have been feeling pretty discouraged about the lack of top-notch, high end talent surrounding him. And then I thought quietly, "The Heat higher-ups better realize what a special talent they have in Wade, and make him and their fanbase happy by supporting him on the court. It can't be too hard, your selling points are Wade and a great city with beautiful weather and a vibrant nightlife". CB4 and Dr. Decision soon followed. When the Celtics traded to get Ray Allen and Kevin Garnett, it seemed pretty cool that a team with a rich history would be able to once again be a contending team. But the then Seattle Supersonics and Minnesota Timberwolves were left in the dust, needing to rebuild (OKC fans have been rewarded with Durant, to be fair). Then you've got Carmelo Anthony making it clear he would love to play for the New York Knicks, a pretty big dagger to Denver fans. You've got Chris Paul apparently making a toast at 'Melo's wedding saying that he wants to leave behind the New Orleans scene for Broadway:
http://www.nypost.com/p/sports/knicks/me_amar_and_melo_BU8MzS41wIdwRYLU1D7NTJ

And don't get me started on Toronto (Carter, McGrady, Bosh, etc...). So here is a dangerous picture of what the NBA could potentially look like in a few years, barring some slick handling of the next CBA agreement by Sternzy:
Teams that superstars would want to sign with- Lakers, Clippers, Celtics, Knicks, Heat, Bulls, Blazers (especially if Oden can play and stop looking and acting like a 47 year-old man), Nets (especially after acquiring Williams and moving to Brooklyn), Magic, 76ers, Thunder (due mostly to playing with Durant), and MAYBE Spurs, Mavericks and Suns, depending on what those teams look like after their aging stars retire.
Teams that have NO SHOT IN HELL of creating a dominant powerhouse through free agency: Raptors, Grizzlies, Kings, Bobcats, Bucks, Cavaliers, Timberwolves.

NHL: Too many players having no-trade clauses.

I am quite sick of hearing about rumours involving players with no-trade clauses. Kaberle, Richards, Lecavalier, Chris Phillips etc... I used to think that these clauses were kept primarily for superstar veterans, but it's pretty clear that many GM's toss them into contracts as an incentive for players to sign, ANY player they want bad enough. Who's next, James Reimer? Gimme a break. In my opinion, no-trade clauses should be reserved for players 35 years of age and over, who have earned the right to say "I'm in the last several years of my career, I've done a lot for this league/team, I want to finish my career here". That makes sense. But giving a no-trade to a 27 year-old player just so that he can make it extremely difficult on a GM to trade him? Ridiculous. And don't give me the excuse of "I want to be able to settle my family"(at 27 years-old?). Call me heartless, but I'm pretty sure that when your child is 15, 16, 17 years old and you retire, you can explain to them "Hey sweetie, I'm sorry we moved around a few times during your childhood. But see this insanely huge house and your personal Porsche out there, not to mention our yearly exotic vacations, is that a fair trade-off?" And even still, players get a minimum full two months off to spend with their families every year during the off season, a luxury most people don't get. Also, these players get to retire at 40 years old or sooner if they choose, with a more extravagant lifestyle than most other humans, and more years to enjoy with family than most people get in an entire lifetime.

Rant over! Those are two things that I have noticed in the NBA and NHL as of late, and I don't like them. The...end.

UN-Selfish Sniper: The Evolution of Ilya Kovalchuk

When Ilya Kovalchuk was drafted 1st overall by the Atlanta Thrashers, there was some debate about whether that was the right choice, given Jason Spezza was also there for the taking. Both the Senators and Thrashers (up until this year) are probably quite happy with the way things turned out, with both players putting up huge numbers in the big league.
Early in his career, I was not a fan of Kovy, because I labeled him as being a stereotypical ego-driven superstar. I remember when the Thrashers made the playoffs for the first time, and he was average at best (in 4 games, 2 points, -1 rating and 19 penalty minutes!). During one game when the opposition was not only gaining the neutral zone but entering the Thrashers zone at full force, Kovalchuk lazily skated to the bench on an ill-timed line change. I was disgusted. Then there's this incident between him and Crosby (given, Crosby was not without fault for being a huge whiner here, but the finger point was a little much for my taste).



Over the years however, Kovalchuk has in my opinion, evolved into a mature, classy leader. I don't love Kovalchuk, as there are still parts of his game that don't make him a complete package (inconsistent back-checking, occasional floater). But I like him a lot. As he entered his early and mid-twenties, he started standing up for himself, and not taking any crap from anybody. He turned into a decent fighter, someone his teammates could rally around.



But last week, during a game against Montreal, Kovy solidified my respect for him when he unselfishly opted to not pad his stats by scoring an empty net goal (though he easily could have), but instead dropped the puck for Brian Rolston. This gave Rolston a prime opportunity to score his 700th NHL point, which he did. Kovy then proceeded to immediately grab the puck, and with a huge smile, passed it to Rolston on the bench.

http://www.nj.com/devils/index.ssf/2010/03/post_12.html

It's plays like that that I absolutely love, and that teammates love. Kovalchuk seems to be fitting in well in New Jersey, and he has turned into a dangerous combination of incredibly gifted offensive talent and focused leader. Well done sir, you're one hell of a hockey player.

Canada produces amazing music

The Vancouver Olympics seem a distant memory, but a great memory at that. After Sidney Crosby had scored the Golden Goal and my jubilation had tapered off, I thought to myself "This is great, our country produces the best hockey players in the world." But I also started thinking that there have got to be other exports of ours that we can be equally as proud of. Well there are: Comedians (Jim Carrey, John Candy, Phil Hartman, Russell Peters etc...), Actors (Ryan Reynolds, Hayden Christiansen, Kim Cattrall etc...) and female beauties (Rachel McAdams, Neve Campbell, Elisha Cuthbert etc...). But last night it dawned on me...
Canada produces some of the best music in the world. While the U.S. and the U.K. are often looked at as tops in terms of music production, I believe we can go toe to toe with any country in the world, those two included.
I saw Charlettown, P.E.I.'s Two Hours Traffic rock Queen's University in Kingston, Ontario last night and wow, are they good. Snappy, catchy, hooky, poppy, use whatever word you want to use to describe their quick tunes, point is: they're great. Check out "Noisemaker" or "Stuck for the Summer", and if they're not stuck in your head within two listens, you're not human and I'm scared of you. But other than that, they have deeply emotional songs like "Stolen Earrings" and "Drop Alcohol" that prove these guys are on to something serious. Give this a listen:


Before the show, I had a short conversation with lead singer Liam Corcoran where he divulged "It seems like we've gotten a following overnight, but in reality, we've been doing this for 7 years. Hitting the pavement hard, and now people are FINALLY starting to appreciate us." There are a lot of terrible bands out there, geography unimportant. So when I hear a small D.I.Y. band that I truly believe have something special, I have no problem passionately conveying that. And turns out a lot of them are from Canada. But D.I.Y. or not, Canada produces important, relevant, influential music, and has for a while. From Ron Sexsmith to Michael Buble, from Arcade Fire to Alexisonfire, from Broken Social Scene to Wintersleep, we export a lot of amazing talent in many different fields. Stand up and be proud Canada! (It should be noted we make some horrible television though...anything starring Brent Butt as an example)

Repeat offenders: My 5 most hated hockey players

*Honourable Mention: Steve Ott

Mike Modano said he was embarrassed to be a part of the Stars after this game. 'Nuff said.



5. Jarkko Ruutu
Not only is he one of the ugliest players in the league, but he's a diver, and cheapshots are right up his alley. Way to target Kovy's knee completely unnecessarily. Granted, Chris Simon stomping on Ruutu's ankle was a tad extreme, but there's a reason he did it.



4. You're tough Carcillo, REAL tough. Clearly had Gaborik in his sights from the top of the circle and rips him away from the crowd. And Carcillo loves celebrating his own fights by throwing up his arms in celebration to the crowd. Clear sign of a total jerk



3. Steve Downie

This little punk entered the league by leaving his feet like he was competing in a high jump competition. It's sickening to watch, and that's far from the last time he's been dirty. He's a slasher, a slew-foot artist, and suckerpunched Jason Blake for no reason. ZERO respect for this scumbag.



2. Matt Cooke

The reason I made this list is because Cooke's hit on Savard was utterly distasteful. Watch the video: knee knee knee, headshot, headshot headshot. Get out of the league, you don't belong.



1. Sean Avery

If you love hockey as much as I do, you shouldn't like/support Sean Avery. He's everything that's wrong with the game. If you like Avery, I don't want to be your friend. He's a human joke. And my most hated thing in hockey by far...turtling. Ooooooooooh that gets me mad. You shove Kariya into the boards, you back it up.

Chase The Light- "World Below In Stereo" Review

As the music industry becomes increasingly saturated with stereotypical rock groups making predictable rock albums, it’s refreshing that Kingston quartet Chase The Light’s first EP, World Below In Stereo, makes a valiant effort to steer away from generic pop rock. The album has pop rock influences, but it’s clear Chase The Light is aware the public’s thirst for overly-catchy, substance-deprived rock groups has been quenched unceremoniously by groups like Red Jumpsuit Apparatus and Hedley.

World Below explodes out of the gate with the ready-for-radio track “Games We Play”. A clear candidate for first single, the song shows singer Pat Donovan’s ability to match a verse that keeps you listening with a chorus you’ll be banging your head against a wall to get out. Although the song does have a conventional radio-single arrangement, it wraps up with interesting keyboard work that will have you questioning if someone slipped in a Motion City Soundtrack record while you weren’t looking. (check out this acoustic version)

The band follows the catchy “Games We Play” with the slower “Wish You The Best”.

Not as immediately gratifying as “Games We Play”, ambitious lyrics and a refreshingly original bridge add up to it being an excellent choice for a second single. Containing the best drumming on the album, the song is also Nick Gallinger’s statement that his work adds an interesting element to the band. Just as you think you’ve heard this chorus before, Gallinger’s decision to pepper the back half of the chorus with a ska beat slaps you in the face like a rude date. Alex Arthurs’ piercingly appropriate riff at the end of the first two choruses does nothing but give you more incentive to re-listen.

The EP chugs along with the darker, moodier title track “World Below In Stereo”. Embedded acoustic guitars give the song depth while Donovan continues to show his eagerness to envelope the songs with accessible melodies.

“My Ceiling” is the most unpredictable song on the record, and its aspiration outweighs its impact. But the unconventional arrangement gives bassist Chris Maurice an opportunity to show the low end of the band. While Maurice’s stellar bass work could be overshadowed by Arthurs’ generally high-pitched riffs on the album, “My Ceiling” displays the chemistry between Maurice and Gallinger, with the rhythm section carrying the bridge.

Just as you might have been thinking that the album needed to be faster, the angry and aggressive “Thimble Cottage” comes screaming out of your speakers. But you may be ill-prepared for the mainly acoustic “Growing Old Without You”. As World Below’s ballad, the song gets about as far from the beginning of the album as possible. Featuring beautiful female vocals accompanying Donovan, the song sticks out from the pack, before “Written Roses” picks up where “Games We Play” left off.

Simply put, World Below In Stereo is worth your time. The record takes you on a ride with enough tempo changes and emotional diversity to keep you interested. Tastefully sprinkled throughout the 7 songs are moments where each member is given an opportunity to shine, and done so in a way that doesn’t seem forced. Pat Donovan’s vocals are stimulating, his lyrics are thoughtful, and a sigh of relief will be breathed when you realize that although he could, he refuses to sing in that expected whiny fashion of emo rockers. Chase The Light has a bright future ahead, and it will be a treat to see where this quartet take their sound on a full-length album. (check out this interview with Chase The Light at The Drive in Kingston, ON)

What's in a Name? A heck of a lot!

DON'T EVER NAME YOUR CHILD REGIS. DO YOU REALLY WANT PEOPLE TO THINK OF THAT WHEN THEY SAY YOUR KID'S NAME?

From the time we’re little kids, we’re told not to judge a book by its cover. While I agree with that mindset, I feel it’s completely okay to judge a person by their name. Before you get your panties in a bunch and call me a judgmental jerk, consider a recent ruling by a New Zealand judge.
This judge saved a nine-year old girl from a lifetime of questions like “What kind of drugs do your parents do?” after ruling that her name was too ridiculous to stand. Her parents named her (are you sitting down?), Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii. But the judge thought that might impede her future. *clap clap clap*
TALULA DOES THE HULA FROM HAWAII. Just name the kid Daddy Forgot To Wear A Condom and get the whole thing over with.
People will say, “But Apple Paltrow will be fine”. Apple Paltrow will be fine because she will bathe in hundred dollar bills, NOT because people will learn to accept freakish names. Frankly, our society is far too judgmental to accept names like (apparently someone actually named their kid this) Iam Ahore. Could you imagine? “It’s time to open your Christmas presents Iam Ahore!” Unacceptable.

Video Resumes: How a Stoney Creek woman turned her dream into a reality

When she was in the eighth grade, Stephanie Trendocher’s closet doors were littered with cut-out images of fashion trends from magazines like Teen, Elle Girl and Cosmo Girl. When she entered high school, she discovered art-inspired magazines from London and New York specifically geared toward fashion. It wasn’t until she began studying at McMaster University that she started loyally reading Flare, and when she did, Trendocher knew she had found the publication she dreamed of working for. She sent out resumes on different occasions, but never received replies. Then, one night, when she and her boyfriend were leaving his Hamilton home, she noticed a message on her phone. Despite it being choppy, she got the basics. Her phone slipped from her hand and fell to the floor. After an almost cruel month-and-a-half-long waiting period, her career had suddenly taken a turn for the better. Stephanie Trendocher had been selected to be Flare’s newest intern.

Flare didn’t discover her by sifting through stacks of resumes looking for experienced candidates, though. Instead the magazine set up a contest where applicants were to upload a 90-second video of why they would be suitable for a position with Flare.com. That approach immediately let Flare editors discern the dedicated from the lazy, and it also allowed them to meet the applicants in an informal setting. Trendocher feels it helped display her personality and talents more than a piece of paper ever could.

“It’s hard when you’re just looking at a resume because everyone will have the same qualifications. They’ve already been an intern, or they were the editor-in-chief of their school paper,” she says. “The video resume was a really interesting idea because that allows you to vocalize and really show who you are.”

As she sits by the window of a downtown Toronto Starbucks, Trendocher fiddles with her hands, but stops to take a long sip of her iced tea. Growing up in a small Ontario town, she used to look at images in fashion magazines as a way to escape the “little realm that everybody becomes involved in.” When asked about Flare’s unique contest, she peels her eyes away from the view of a mild afternoon, and discusses the effect another influential fashion magazine has had on the industry.

“I think it’s just a trend,” declares the Stoney Creek native. “If you look at something like Teen Vogue, they definitely have done something like that. The Hills with Lauren Conrad, they’re always on camera at their internships, and it’s kind of appealing to have that kind of contest. You want to know what this person looks like and how they’re going to be so that you’re like, ‘Okay, I want this person on camera’, and it’ll be okay.”

Trendocher feels the contest gave her a great opportunity to show Flare she’s capable of manipulating video, as well as representing the publication. But before she was able to translate her personality to the screen, she had to overcome obstacles. Her camera broke, so she borrowed an unfamiliar one. Her script was too long for the 90-second time constraint, so she reworked it. And finally, once she had everything recorded, she realized the camera was PC-compatible only, rendering her Macintosh unusable for the project. She converted all the files, and the entire process took roughly two weeks in what she describes as “a huge pain for a 90-second video.”

That “huge pain” ended up turning into her dream internship, which may not have been the case, had Flare not gone with the video format.

Flare.com editor Zdenka Turecek thinks video applications force hopefuls to think outside the box, and they make the most of an editor’s time.

“It knocks off the first impression,” explains Turecek. “[Otherwise] you would have to get an actual interview in, so it might be a time-saver. Essentially, we decided on her without even interviewing her. Rather than someone submitting a resume and calling ten people to interview them, we watched a video. It definitely takes less time to do that.”

Turecek says Flare.com received roughly 20 videos, and thousands of comments on them helped in the decision process. She says Trendocher was selected because it was obvious she was stylish, she had relevant experience, and her video was creative. But not everyone sees the correlation between coming across well on camera and being a talented member of a magazine team.

“I just don’t get how it has any relevance at all to the magazine industry,” pleads James Keast. “It’s a separate thing. That’s the whole idea. The point of print is writing. Whether or not someone is good on camera, the skill set required for working at a magazine is radically different from the skill set required to either host or put together or build a video piece.”

Keast, the editor-in-chief of Exclaim, doesn’t look like the typical music buff. He has no visible tattoos, doesn’t wear the T-shirt of some obscure band, and he roams the office in his socks. However, he trades a predictable appearance for a wealth of knowledge on how to run a magazine. He’s performed a range of duties and has a seemingly good relationship with his staff, which may be a result of where his own career began.

After graduating from Queen’s University when he was 24, the Belleville native went through a scrupulous application process to become an intern for Toronto Life. He didn’t have to make a video, but did have to write a 500-word essay about the latest issue, write another essay detailing why he would be successful there, and pitch three story ideas for each section. He landed the position, but would’ve been skeptical had creating a video been a part of the process.

Now that he is on the other side of the desk, Keast knows what he wants in an intern and how to find it.

Exclaim launched its own online television station, Exclaim TV last fall, but Keast says he wouldn’t ask for a video resume from an intern unless it was specifically for an Exclaim TV position. He is concerned with a candidate’s ability to write and hit deadlines, and feels a video resume does little to convince him of those pertinent skills.

“It feels a little bit like the Much Music VJ Search,” he explains. “It’s like, ‘Let’s put an idiot 20-year-old in front of a bunch of screaming teenagers and see if they can keep up’. It seems one step away from, ‘We’ve put all of our applications up on YouTube, and the person that gets the most views is getting the job’. It’s really a popularity contest. What’s it teaching me? It’s teaching me that the person is good on camera. If I worked at Much Music, I would absolutely be running VJ searches every six months, because that’s what they do. They’re looking for personality. Working at a magazine is not about personality.”

Exclaim and Flare may differ on what qualities they find most desirable in potential interns, but whether or not personality dictates success is debatable. Flare was impressed with Trendocher’s energy and enthusiasm and Turecek is delighted with the selection. The contest and subsequent internship have been so successful that a second edition of the contest began in April. Trendocher just wrapped up her third year of cultural studies and English at McMaster, and stresses to internship-hungry people the importance of relentless passion.

“You have to prove yourself,” states Trendocher. “It’s all about proving yourself and setting yourself apart. That was the whole purpose of the video. How can I show that I want this more than somebody else does? The video was a great opportunity to do that because I had a lot of difficulties with it and I had a lot of setbacks, and then after all, it was worth it in the end.”

Barack Obama: He's not the end of racism, but he's a great start

I lived the first 12 years of my life in Montreal, Quebec, a city known for multiculturalism. In public school, I was friends with black people, Jewish people, Italian people, Muslim people, and white people, among others. Although you can chalk it up to being a kid, I never cared about the background of my classmates or anyone around me.

My family moved to suburban Kingston, Ontario in 1997, and the difference was undeniable. Everyone was white. Not only that, but racist jokes were rampant. In my time in Kingston, I've heard jokes about most ethnic backgrounds you can think of, and most of the time, they're not clever. I had to quickly get used to this, because when I first heard these jokes, I was speechless. I would have NEVER heard these types of jokes in Montreal, but in Kingston, I heard them spewed freely. Here's an example of how ridiculous it can get:
Last time I was in Kingston, I was leaving a restaurant with my friends, and this guy we went to high school with thought it was completely acceptable to try to get our attention by yelling, "Hey n*gg*rs!" I was floored. I whipped my head around to see if there was a black person jumping out of his seat to introduce his fist to this young man's skull. Of course, it was Kingston, so there was nobody of ethnic decent anywhere in the restaurant. I though to myself, "This guy needs to get out of Whiteville, Ontario for a day to understand the way the world works."
It's pretty apparent that racism and prejudice still widely exists across North America. The movie "Crash" is a hauntingly accurate portrayal of everyday stereotypes that people hold. When I began college in Toronto two years ago, the multiculturalism was a breath of fresh air. I loved being in a city that reflected the real world, not a pocket of society I was exposed to in Kingston. I would be lying if I said I don't think certain people look at me differently because the colour of my skin. It's undeniable that there is hostility bubbling beneath the surface, and sometimes, it makes its way to the surface.
I've thought for several years now that one giant leap towards ending racism would be for a white U.S. president to stand up and apologize for the atrocities that existed during slavery. But that hasn't happened. This is why when my friend made me watch Barack Obama's "A more perfect union" speech, I was floored. Finally, a presidential candidate has the guts to stand up and say, "There is racial tension in our country, let's not deny it. Let's acknowledge it and make strides to rectify it."



I am not in denial, nor do I have unrealistic expectations. I don't think that one man, no matter how charismatic or intelligent Obama may be, can end such a long history of racial tension. What I do have is an unwavering belief in people. I think that should Obama be elected and one of his main goals be bridging the gap between different ethnicities, we can all begin to move forward. We must never forget, but we must attempt to move forward, together. The best scenario in my mind, would be for Obama to be elected and consciously help this issue, and Hillary Clinton be his vice-president and concentrate on the atrocious American health care system and other issues affecting families. And the fact is, much of the time, our Canadian prime minister follows in the American president's footsteps, which should Obama be elected, I wouldn't have a problem with. But one step at a time.

Can The Offspring be cool again?

1994. Nirvana, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains dominated the airwaves. But in a year when grunge dominated, punk became cool again.

Every time "Basket Case" by Green Day was played on MuchMusic, I was glued to the t.v. set. I bought "Dookie" and loved it. At the same time that the Berkeley punkers blew up, a group of Orange County boys released their second Epitaph album, "Smash". "Come Out and Play", "Self Esteem" and "Gotta Get Away" made me feel cool by just listening to it. When the rest of my public school classmates listened to whatever was on the radio, I felt like I was a part of something cool that was happening. And the best part was that none of them knew what was going on.

Dexter Holland didn't look like Kurt Cobain or Eddie Vedder. He wore long braids and didn't seem to have the "life if so hard, poor me" mentality. The video for "Come Out and Play" had crazy orange tints and was all over the place. Unlike many of the grunge dudes, it didn't seem like any of The Offspring members were about to cram needles in their veins. They were cool without having to act like they were cool.



When they had a big fallout with Epitaph, they jumped over to Columbia Records, and if you didn't like it, too bad. "Ixnay on the Ombray" was released, and for the most part, it was straight-ahead classic Offspring punk. Songs like "All I Want" pretty much said "I'm gonna do what I wanna do, screw off". When I was 16, I loved it. I'm 23, and with the puny amount of maturity that has taken place, I still love it! In all seriousness, it can still be played with NOFX or Pennywise, and is just as "punk" (whatever that means anymore).



A few albums later, they released "Splinter", and I almost puked. Boring, repetitive, clearly lacking the effort they've put towards previous albums. And The Offspring have announced a release date for their follow-up to "Splinter". Bob Rock produced the record, and for a man whose been involved in such punk rock classics as Bon Jovi's "Slippery When Wet" and Metallica's "St. Anger", I'd be disappointed if the album wasn't at least a partial return to classic Offspring. Okay, so maybe those other Bob Rock albums were a guitar slide or two away from punk rock, but still, Bob should be able to produce at least a half-good album with all the success he's had in his career. Well, here's to hoping.

Think before you post, would ya, please?

Facebook. As loved and abused as this social website is, many people are annoyed by certain aspects of it. Maybe the hundreds of applications bother you, or maybe people you hate or never really knew trying to add you as a friend annoy you. For me, girls who use Facebook to advertise themselves as alcoholic party animals grind my gears. They also amuse me, though.

I love my friends. I love hanging out on a deck on a warm summer day with a couple of drinks. I also enjoy checking out a bar with some buddies. But I don't feel the need to litter my Facebook profile with pictures of myself passing out on a random street corner. Nor do I feel the need to record and post a video of myself chugging tequila like it was Coca-Cola. Frankly, I don't see the appeal of it, and I don't picture anybody seeing that on my page and saying to themselves, "He seems like a really cool dude". No, he seems like a joke of a human being.

I personally get a kick out of girls who change their away messages to things like, "Can't wait to party this weekend!! Gonna be sooooooo sick!" Meanwhile, I notice the message was written on Tuesday morning. Really? Can you not wait four days? Lord knows your last weekend started late Thursday afternoon, and didn't end until Monday morning when you flushed the remnants of your own vomit down the kitchen sink. But I suppose giving your liver a three-day break is a real drag!

I also thoroughly enjoy watching a video of a girl literally being carried away by several of her friends because she was too hammered to walk. Personally, I find incoherence extremely sexy in a woman. Who wants to be with a girl who can form a sentence? Screw that! Or the best is a video of a girl being carried to her room by some perverted, steroid-abusing man. He drops her on his bed, she bounces off, and hits her head on the edge of a desk. There's nothing cuter than a bump the size of Peru on your forehead, I can tell you that much.

Or here's a beautiful young woman enjoying the scenery in the bathroom:



Ahhhhh, then there's the groups. If you ever want to know what a girl is like, take a look at the groups she's in. I think some my favourites are, "I know I have a problem with alcohol but I like it", "Reality is an illusion that occurs due to lack of alcohol", or perhaps the classiest of all, "My alcohol tolerance is higher than my G.P.A.". Hey, I've got an idea for a group: "I'm going nowhere in life." How's that one sound?

Let me say this: by no means am I straight edge. I may be a loser and a morbid beast, but I am not straight edge. All I'm saying is that there's no need to alert the Facebook world that the majority of your thoughts revolve around your insatiable appetite to party. Anyway, it's Monday, so I'm off to my campus pub. I only have to wake up at 8 a.m. tomorrow morning! (Ladies, that's called sarcasm. Put the drink down, and grab a dictionary.)

Why Matt Stajan shouldn't be the captain of the Leafs

Let me say that, first and foremost, I am a big-time Montreal and Calgary fan, so what the Leafs do interests me less than decisions which affect the Habs or Flames. With that said, I currently reside in Toronto, and want the Leafs to be a successful organization.
Toronto, being the media juggernaut that it is, constantly has hockey journalists starting rumours and spouting their opinions about what the Leafs need to do to be a contender. As the season was wrapping up and Sundin rumours ran rampant throughout the city, Toronto Star writer Damien Cox wrote an article suggesting that Matt Stajan would be a great candidate to wear the "C" for the blueshirts should Mats not be around. I was enraged that such a knowledgeable hockey man would attempt to spearhead another decision that would send a clear message to the 29 NHL clubs: "In Toronto, mediocrity is okay".
When I brought this issue up to a classmate of mine, he said something along the lines of "Well, they can't just go out and get an Iginla." That is true, you can't just go out and get Iginla. (I should say that Jarome Iginla is my favourite hockey player, and truthfully, I do have a non-sexual crush on the man.) Iginlas aren't a dime a dozen. But that got me thinking, is it too much to ask that Toronto have a Sundin-like captain to replace him? Is it crazy to think that the biggest hockey market in the league would have a captain that put fans on the edge of their seats, the type of player that leads both in the locker room AND on the ice? Someone who can put his team on his shoulders when they falter? No, it isn't. I looked around the league and compiled a list of NHL captains that are CLEARLY better than Matt Stajan. It proves that if 19 of the 30 teams have captains that make Stajan look like an AHL player, then barring unforeseen talent growth, the Leafs should seek a legitimate franchise player.
Captains clearly better than Stajan: Saku Koivu, Sidney Crosby, Rod Brind'Amour, Daniel Alfredsson, Jaromir Jagr, Zdeno Chara, Olli Jokinen, Bill Guerin, Niklas Lidstrom, Patrick Marleau, Marion Gaborik, Chris Pronger, Jarome Iginla, Markus Naslund, Joe Sakic, Jason Arnott, Shane Doan, Rick Nash, Rob Blake.
Now I don't dislike Stajan. Although he gets pummeled here, and the ref cradles him like a frightened child, I respect him for at least defending himself.

But let's get real here, if Stajan was on a contender like Anaheim, Detroit, Pittsburgh or Montreal, he'd be a third liner. Because it's the Leafs, he's a second liner, sometimes a first liner depending on injuries. I'm a firm believer that a captain should be a great locker room guy AND be among the top three most talented/point accumulators on your club. Giving him the "C", having him to take a faceoff against Patrick Marleau, having him go into the corners against Jarome Iginla or Zdeno Chara, asking him to lead his troops into battle like Joe Sakic, is unrealistic. It would be another indication that failing to make the playoffs or squeaking in to 8th or 7th spot is fine for Toronto fans. Well, it's not. And I'm only a mild Toronto fan.

The Times They Are a Changing

Everyone has heard of the struggles faced by the music industry in recent years, but you never hear people talk about the struggles of the people who sell their product.

At the end of 2007, Music World, the last major Canadian CD store, announced it was going out of business and declaring bankruptcy. This follows the collapse of Sam the Record Man, which closed its doors for good in June of 2007. Record stores are having a tough time dealing with declining sales and as more and more stores close, more and more people lose their jobs.

“I loved working at Music World because I didn’t hate going to work,” said former Music World employee Alex Young. “I could go into work and I knew it was going to be different and fresh everyday. I didn’t know who was going to buy what, and you don’t get the chance to work at very many jobs where you could come into work and talk about Jimmy Hendrix for an hour and forty five minutes. You get to meet a lot of different people from a lot of different backgrounds because everybody listens to music.”

Young worked at Music World in the Woodbine Mall for two and a half months before losing his job after the holiday season. A passionate music fan, he is sad to have only worked at his favourite job for such a short period of time. He acknowledges the difficulty major chains are having with competing in a struggling industry, but says the stores need to roll with the punches.

“I find the only music stores that are staying open now are the ones who are adapting, the ones that are taking on a different edge now,” said Young. “They’re not just music stores. If you walk into an HMV now, it’s closer to a Future Shop. Some stores, like Sunrise, took it in a different direction which I think is good. What’s keeping them alive in my opinion is the deal they have with Ticketmaster.”

Young is referring to the fact that Sunrise Records is an official Ticketmaster outlet, allowing people to purchase concert tickets in person. HMV is also expanding its horizons, as it recently began selling Ipods after recognizing the overwhelming popularity of the Apple product. Although major chains are being forced to adapt, Young thinks that independent retailers will always exist because they serve a completely different demographic.

“The danger in more and more record stores closing is that it might just show how many people are actually invested in the music industry strictly on a commercial basis,” said Young. “The only people that are going to survive are the bands, the labels and the stores that people care about. Those are the bands, labels and stores that appeal to music fans. The only reason that mom and pop record store is there is because these people love music. That’s the only reason people work there, that’s the only reason people would go there.”

Monster Records, located at 664 Young St., specializes in vinyl and older music you might not hear on mainstream media outlets. Its manager, Roger Costa, says his store has not seen a drastic change over the years, and he credits that to his loyal clientele and informative service.

“I don’t have a staff of thousands, and I don’t have big money tied up,” said Costa, who’s been managing Monster for 11 years. “It’s all about hiring people who know what they’re talking about. In good stores, suggesting stuff to people perpetuates the industry because you’re exposing people to new stuff. It’s a more personalized service. Come here and you’ll get my voice. You don’t get that at the big stores. They treat music like a product, but it’s more than that.”

Costa has done everything in the music industry from being a roadie to working at HMV. He has seen many changes over time, including record stores selling alternative products simply as a way to survive. According to Costa, there is a danger in the extinction of record shops, and a lot of the loss may be felt by the consumer.

“People might lose a connection to the music,” he says. “There’s a social aspect to record stores that may get lost. That drives my store. I like talking to people and turning them on to new stuff.”

HMV assistant manager Kiran Bhoday has noticed that her store now needs to compete with a much bigger market, such as Best Buy and Future Shop. In order to do so, she’s needed to alter her job description.

“The focus is more on conversion now,” said Bhoday, who works an HMV in Etobicoke. “It’s more on trying to make sales, trying to beat last year’s target. We also merchandise differently, we talk to customers differently. 10 years ago, we would have just let you shop. Now we ask, ‘What are you looking for?’ We’ve got to give 100% service all the time.”

Although the future of record stores may be difficult to predict, it’s more likely than not that stores are going to be selling a wider variety of products, not strictly CD’s and DVD’s. Even with the changing industry, music fans hope that they don’t lose the magic of purchasing music at their local record shop.

“I would miss the experience, and the memories. It’s the process. Going to a CD store is like a journey. I’ll go to a record store and pick up the record with the coolest artwork and just listen to it. There’s something special about discovering music that way. Just being able to go to a record shop and hang out with the guy behind the counter who’s wearing one of your favourite band’s t-shirts. Music doesn’t exclude anybody, and record shops are great for that because it’s like Music Lovers United.”

A New Metallica Record: God Help Us

A new Metallica record is expected to drop this Spring, and frankly, I think it's time that Lars Ulrich put the drumsticks down. Their last studio album, St. Anger, was horendous. The first single by the same title was mediocre at best, followed by "Frantic", a joke of an effort to fans who still drool over the guitar licks in "Fade to Black".
Accompanying the record the following year was the documentary movie "Some Kind of Monster." I must admit, I found the piece to be very entertaining and interesting, and directors Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky did a fantastic job putting it together. Moments like Ulrich finally addressing the departure of Megadeth's Dave Mustaine with the man himself left you wanting more, and probably warranted a longer section of the film. With that said, Metallica (specifically Ulrich and James Hetfield) have always tried to maintain a tough-as-nails image, and with that image tainted, should the music change?
Aside from that, it seems as though Metallica are having a difficult time adapting to the state of the music industry today. Let's take a look at the fact that Metallica were the first people to publicly condemn downloading music. Trying to see things from their perspective, I understand you put a lot of time and effort into your craft, and you want to be financially compensated for that. But let's get real; Lars Ulrich can talk about how wrong it is for you to "steal" his music, then drive off in his Porsche to his multi-million dollar home and play tennis on his personal backyard court. Someone grab him a tissue! Personally, I side with the construction worker who works 60-hour weeks, drives home in his beat up pickup truck, and feels that his $15 is better spent on something other than a sub-par hard rock album. Metallica also loves waiting for extended periods of time between albums. They released their self-titled album in 1991, and waited until 1996 to release Load. After releasing Reload in 1997, they waited until 2003 to release St. Anger (unless you count the orchestra album S&M, because I don't). Now, their new record is set for Spring of 2008. Musical hunger has never been higher for the general public, people constantly want new music for their iPods, and the public's attention span has never been shorter. If they were a fairly new band who only had a couple of albums, a couple of singles, the public would have forgot about them long ago. 2003 seems like a long time ago in the music industry. It is for these reasons, and the caliber of St. Anger, that I say "Lars, put the drumsticks down!"
PS- I'm assuming the fact that Bob Rock is producing the new Offspring record has something to do with this, but Metallica opted to go with Rick Rubin as producer. The man is a musical genius, and told them to re-listen to their older albums while preparing for this new one, according to thedge.ca. I'm not surprised at all.

Vincent Lecavalier wearing le bleu, blanc, et rouge: Unlikely

Within the last two weeks, Vincent Lecavalier and the Tampa Bay Lightning visited Toronto and Montreal in a Northeast road trip, and the media had a field day. Sportsnet's Nick Kypreos and Daren Millard began speculating that due to the probable situation where the Lightning will have to move one of their big three, Lecavalier will be moved, and Montreal is a likely candidate. Kypreos even went so far as to say "I think Vinnie will end up in Montreal". I think Kypper has suffered three too many concussions.
I could talk for days on trade scenarios where it might be doable for Bob Gainey, but let's take a look at why the media jumped to so many conclusions in first place. Simply put, it would look good, and the Montreal Canadiens marketing team would have their jobs done for them by having a talented french-canadian leading the way. For years, Montreal fans and the organization have been looking for someone to fill the shoes of Patrick Roy, Guy Lafleur, Jean Beliveau, Maurice Richard, Boom-Boom Geoffrion and the list goes on and on. Saku Koivu has never been enough, despite being a phenominal leader and one of the NHL's true warriors. The Quebec media made it quite apparent earlier this year that no matter what Saku does for the team, it will not be enough because he is from Finland, not Quebec. That is an absolute joke, but that's the way it goes in Quebec. Even if Lecavalier did end up playing for the Canadiens, if Saku was still there, it should still be Saku's team.
Lets, for one moment, entertain the idea of Lecavalier playing for the Habs. Expectations would be so astronomical for Vincent that meeting them would be almost impossible. Today's NHL is not set up for dynasties, and that is exactly what people would want out of him, because Lafleur brought a dynasty, Beliveau, Boom Boom and Maurice brought a dynasty, and Patrick Roy brought two Stanley Cups, so that's what they would want out of Number 4 (he'd have to change his number of course). In today's NHL, it's difficult enough to win one, let alone two or three. And if they did get Vinnie, he'd command about 8 million plus dollars a year, leaving little room for a supporting cast, considering keeping Saku would be a priority and Carey Price is most likely going to deserve in the 5 million dollar a year range within the next few years. Resigning Michael Ryder might prove to be difficult, and if they had to let guys like Mike Komisarek and Chris Higgins go to obtain Vinnie, then they're losing some of their core, placing even more pressure on Lecavalier.
The fact is that having Vincent Lecavalier play for the Montreal Canadiens would be amazing, from a fans perspective and from a PR stand point. Frankly, they've been waiting for a similar opportunity for years, and Daniel Briere didn't quite pan out in the off-season. But even if Bob Gainey somehow could work something out with Tampa Bay, or with Vinnie himself when he becomes a free agent in a couple of years, I am not going to be holding my breath that he will be "the next one". I have all the faith in the world that he would continue his brilliant individual efforts recording 90-plus points year in and year out, but I do not have faith that he can fill the shoes of some of the great Habs. To do that, he'd have to bring some Cups to town, and in today's NHL, more than one is just getting greedy. Plus, we all know that Gary Bettman would much rather see an imaginative talent like Lecavalier playing in an empty arena in sunny Florida on a Saturday night, than in a jam-packed Bell Centre on a Monday night with the crowd going nuts. Heck, that would make sense. Let's just expand the league some more, have it more watered down, so even less teams have a shot at having a superstar like Lecavalier play on their club. Oh Gary, you're just downright nutty.

Jimmy Eat World's Chase This Light

Jimmy Eat World’s new record, Chase This Light, may have alienated those fans who just aren’t prepared to make the plunge towards full-blown pop-rock, but one thing is for sure: It is definitely a Jimmy Eat World album. It is, for the most part, much more accessible to the mainstream than it’s predecessor, Futures. Although Futures spawned two successful singles, “Pain” and “Work”, Chase This Light offers up the possibility of at least four radio-friendly singles.

Even the album’s cover art is an accurate preview of the content on the CD. The cover of Futures featured a wonderful photo by Christopher Wray-McCann of a man standing alone in front of an out-of-order payphone. This was a fitting introduction to such songs as “Drugs or Me” or “Polaris”; very dark and lonely tunes appropriate for a rainy Sunday afternoon. The brightly coloured peacock feathers on the Chase This Light cover let the listener know that they are in for a much lighter ride this time around.

The album blasts out of your stereo with “Big Casino”, already a heavily-spun hit on influential radio stations such as Los Angeles’ KROQ and Toronto’s The Edge. Similar to the opening track “Futures”, “Big Casino” is loud and in your face, with each instrument not letting up from beginning to end. Clarity enthusiasts might cringe at the thought that the band has given up on opening albums with slower tunes like “Table for Glasses”. They may also snicker at their perceived irony of the line “There’s still something left when your prime comes and goes”, but regardless, “Big Casino” does it’s job.

If there was any doubt Jimmy Eat World have lost their touch, that thought is erased by the wildly emotional “Let it Happen”. A definite highlight on the album, it captures all the powerful possibility of vocalist Jim Adkins’ voice and explodes with a terrific chorus. For anyone questioning Zach Lind’s role in the band, the chorus of “Let it Happen” displays how his drumming can add intensity and energy to already great moments.

“Electable (Give it Up)” is the closest thing the album has to offer to fans in love with 1996’s Static Prevails. In order to imagine “Electable” sitting beside “Claire” and “Call it in the Air” however, one would have to imagine Adkins’ vocals being much screechier, and the production of the song taken down several notches. “Electable” is fast and energetic, and may be the only tune on the album that wouldn’t get the band bottled to death at a Vans Warped tour concert.

Completely out of place on the record, “Gotta Be Somebody’s Blues” is slow, sad and experimental, and requires a lot of patience and loyalty to appreciate. It does, however, feature a fantastic string arrangement by Canadian conductor David Campbell, who also conducted the string section on Green Day’s “Time of Your Life”.

Chase moves ahead, and the final four songs are a major payoff. As of October 19, “Here it Goes” was rated as the second best song on the album in a poll at jimmyeatworld.com. A high-pitched, piercing guitar riff carries the song, unlike any other Jimmy tune thus far. “Here it Goes” takes the poppiness of tracks like “Carry You” and “Always Be”, and offers a certain originality. Practically screaming at Interscope records to be released as a single, the song stands on its own, while still fitting in with the other ten tunes.

The title track, “Chase This Light”, is three minutes and twenty six seconds of Adkins showing the world what he does best: blend simple, yet, well-crafted music, with phenomenal vocal melody. Whether you’re clutching to the brilliance that was Clarity, or you’re happily along for the post-Bleed American mainstream ride, “Chase This Light” is one of the best songs the band has released.

Any fan of music should take a listen to the madly passionate “Firefight”. After a verse that keeps you listening, the song explodes with a loud, emotional chorus reminiscent of “Kill”. With a wonderful melody and perfect bridge, this song is a sigh of relief to fans who were worried about them completely abandoning the style that so many associate them with. If you can only hear one song from Chase This Light, “Firefight” should be at the top of your list, as it contains instant gratification lacking on most of the record. Chase is closed out with “Dizzy”, which doesn’t have the same impact as Futures “23”, but is still a solid track. At the very least, “Dizzy” is a good song, but could easily grow into a favourite upon many listens.

A blend of Bleed American and Futures, it has definite highlights and possible skippers. There is a lack of spine-tingling moments; moments where you feel shivers, and must re-listen immediately to understand what you just heard. In the past, thirst for such moments have been quenched by the bridges of “Kill” and “Hear You Me”, the climactic ending of “Polaris”, or the ‘Merry Christmas’ moment of “12.23.95”. Referring to Zach Lind’s comment on their message board, Chase might not be one of the best albums in the last twenty years, but it’s closer than anything Angels and Airwaves are capable of writing.

Humber's video game programming is tougher than it sounds

Humber’s newest course, game programming, might sound like all fun, but behind the scenes, students are learning a lot more than just video gaming.

“They’re going to have to do hardcore programming. We have a whole set of classes that were disguised so as to not turn people off,” said Information Technology professor Scott Fielder. “We have a class called ‘game dynamics’, which is code for physics. We have ‘numerical computing’, which is code for math.”

Students might be interested in storytelling and graphics, but Fielder wants them to realize the magnitude in which sciences and math play in developing a video game.

“If you really want to write video games, if you’re sincere, you have to be educated,” he said. “And then I’m smiling about the whole thing, thinking the skills they’re learning here are applicable to almost anything other than video gaming, but my hook to try to drag these guys in is gaming. I wish I could call it ‘Really hardcore programming for hyper-intelligent people’ but then no one would come.”

Game programming is in its first year at Humber and the origins began when Fielder went around to high schools and asked kids if they would be interested in a course about developing video games. The response, he says, was overwhelming.

“I went in there very arrogantly and just said, ‘Humber’s not going to apologize. We’re going to make a program that probably a lot of people won’t survive’,” he said. “I was amazed. Rather than seeing scared, shaking little kids, they all of a sudden sat up and said, ‘Really? Someone’s really going to challenge me’? I think we’ve spent enough time lately, in the last 10 years or so, catering to everybody. Maybe we should raise the bar a bit.”

The heart of it lies in its focus on the essentials.

“One of the things we’re separating ourselves here at Humber from everybody else is that we’re taking the hardcore physics, mathematics approach to game programming,” said Fielder. “There are many other colleges here in the province that claim to do video gaming but they all coast over this issue of math and physics, the sciences, the hardcore computing of it and, really, that’s the guts of it.”

As for competing with other established programs in the gaming realm, such as the International Academy of Design and Technology, Fielder is not worried about setting his students up for employability upon graduation.

“I don’t want to compete with them at all. That school is focusing on the art of the game, the storytelling of the game. We’re the geeks and geeks get paid well,” said Fielder. “There are a few companies here in town, there are a whole bunch in places like Vancouver and Montreal, I’ve been in contact with them and they’d love to find some smart, bright, computer literate people who can do math and physics.”

Students of game programming may be worried about being trapped in a “guinea-pig” year, but seem confident about the skills they will have learned after receiving their diplomas.

“For a student coming out of a brand new program that doesn’t have a reputation, we’re going to be setting a reputation and, also, we’re going to have to go against other schools that have really good reputations for this kind of course,” said John Borthiry, first-year game programming student. “As for beating them when we’re done, that’s really up to us.”

Borthiry, 25, heard about the program through his mother, who works at the Ontario College Application Service. Borthiry, who was in the general arts and sciences program last semester, has no regrets about choosing Humber over other training facilities.

“I’ve talked to one student that went to (International Academy of Design and Technology), and he was very impressed with it. But hearing what he’s going through, by reading the course outline over the next three years, it sounds like a lot of the same stuff,” said Borthiry. “I know Humber’s got the capacity and they’re following the right trail to teach at least at the same caliber and possibly higher than those other courses.”

Game Programming is six semesters and graduates receive an advanced diploma. Domestic tuition fees for 2007/2008 are $2,877.16 with additional fees for computer labs. For more information, contact Muthana Zouri at 416-675-6622, extension 4422.

Yuk Yuk's Amateur Night

With another school year in full swing, Humber College is ready to send in the clowns.

Yuk Yuk’s is the home of Amateur Night, a two-hour spot on Tuesday nights where students from the comedy writing and performance program get to strut their stuff in front of peers and strangers alike. It’s an opportunity that is great not only for the comics, but for students interested in checking out amateur comedy.

“This place is the best open mic for people in my opinion. It’s always full in here, and the more people you have, the more you can gauge your response,” said second-year comedy student Richard Steudle, 23.

Despite rainy weather in downtown Toronto, Yuk Yuk’s was full when Steudle performed on the second Tuesday of the school year. Playing to the primarily young adult audience, the Timmins, Ont. native ripped through his set, which included observations about residence food containing too many olives and his roommate drinking excessive amounts of Creatine.

Although Steudle’s set was well-received, his work ethic won’t allow him to sit on any positive reaction for too long.

“In this program, as much as you want to put into it is what you’re going to get out of it. If you put a lot into it, you’re going to be the funniest guy out there. But if you want to just go to class every day, hand in your homework and do the bare minimum, you’re not going to do anything,” he said.

Earlier in the night, second-year comedy student Bobby Knauff from Thunder Bay, Ont. warmed up the crowd for the later acts.

Dressed in plaid pants and a full red beard, Knauff, 19, used the microphone as a prop in order to tell the audience about his long-distance relationship with his girlfriend. Conscious of the importance of leaving the crowd wanting more, Knauff ended his set abruptly by declaring “Yes! I ended with a laugh!” right after the crowd erupted at one of his punch lines.

As the drinks flowed and the peer support was evident, the Humber comedians took to the stage one after another, with short sets and even shorter breaks.

All the comedians performed original material, with the first female performer of the evening cracking jokes about men rejecting women based on ridiculous criteria. The flow to the night took a complete twist when second-year student Alan Mason performed his satirical tune “I Watched You Sleep Last Night”. The acoustic country song about sneaking into a girl’s bedroom to watch her sleep got the entire crowd clapping along.

Success at one of these amateur nights is great, but as Knauff explains, a comedian needs a lot of dedication to pursue a career in comedy.

“If you think that just by going to the Humber Comedy program, you’re ‘in’, you’re sadly, sadly mistaken,” he says. “If you’re pro, but never work on it and you’re like, ‘I’m awesome’, there’s so many people that want your spot. But if you’re professional about it, you’ll get it eventually.”

Although a portion of the crowd was students from the comedy program, many were not. As the night went on, it became clear that the students were performing for more than just their friends.

“Being a fan of comedy, I definitely found it interesting. I’d definitely go back and check it out again,” says Michael Vlasveld, first-year radio broadcasting student at Humber.

Vlasveld, 20, is a huge fan of comedy and found the experience to be interesting, as well as entertaining.

“At first, I thought it would be just comedy students sitting there watching each other. I thought, ‘oh great’,” says Vlasveld.

“It really filled up by the end. It was a way better atmosphere than at the start. It didn’t feel like it was amateur, it was like you were at an actual comedy show. I’ve never gone to see stand-up comedy, and even though it was amateur, it was good. You get to watch decent stand up. I’m really passionate about comedy, and it’s cheap, so that’s sweet.”

Yuk Yuk’s is located at 224 Richmond St. W. and amateur night begins every Tuesday at 7:30 p.m. (except for Dec. 26 and Jan. 2). Admission is $3. For more information, call 416-967-6425.

To Be A Woman (A Short Story)

Christy laughs just like her mother. It’s a giggly, bubbly laugh which exudes the type of femininity boys can’t help but be attracted to. Sometimes it seems like she hasn’t laughed like that since my ex-wife and I split, but I know that she has. Where there once was conversation enveloped in laughter, there are now frustrating series of my questions and her one-word answers. Everyone has walls, I suppose.

It’s difficult to pinpoint a moment when our relationship began to transition to no access, but I know it was around the time that Janet and I divorced. This could be because we decided never to tell Christy the true reason for the divorce. Perhaps Christy knew what we told her was a lie.

I’ve never told Christy that I spent over a year saving up enough money to replace a gold necklace Janet had lost at the beach. It was a gift her mother had given her when she had graduated from university, certainly one of Janet’s most cherished items. For over a year, I spent every janitorial shift at Laurentian High School sweeping hallways and scrubbing toilets knowing that a significant portion of my paycheck was going towards the necklace. When I went to put the necklace and card in Janet’s jewelry box, I found the note that ended our marriage. It was a note from our family doctor describing intimate sexual moments he had had with my wife. The way he fondled her breasts, the way he loved her scent, the electricity he was overcome by when his lips met hers. It even described a trip to Cuba he planned to take her on. I still quietly laugh when I think of that heartbreaking letter. I never told Christy any of that. As far as she knows, her mom and I just fell out of love. For me, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

I was sitting in the main room of our two-bedroom apartment listening to Tim McGraw when Christy came home, providing me with a welcomed distraction from my thoughts. She had gone on a date with a boy from school and that was the extent of what she had told me. The music was playing pretty loudly and I almost didn’t hear the door open, in part because she was trying to be as discreet as possible.

“Christy? How was your night?” I asked.

She mumbled “fine” and went straight to her room. Although this was a normal answer, her voice had a faint tremble that worried me. Her shoulder-length blonde hair and petite physique make her appear young, but for a fifteen year-old girl, she’s quite mature. I questioned whether or not I should pursue a conversation, so I gave it a few minutes. Finally, the awkwardness in her voice was too much for me to handle, so I got up off the tattered rocking chair and went to her room.

“Don’t you knock?” she asked angrily.

I laughed and said

“Sorry darlin’, but I was just wonderin’ how your date went.”

Christy stared at me as though I had asked a perfect stranger the most intimate of questions. She folded her arms and rolled her eyes.

“I said fine, didn’t I? I’m waiting for Mom to call me back. She was just busy for a few seconds. You can go back to Garth Brooks or whatever,” she said.

I took a couple of extra seconds to look at the posters of Justin Timberlake and Leonardo DiCaprio which adorned her wall before turning around and going to my room. It was funny going from Christy’s room to mine because the size difference was laughable. After the divorce, I knew that it would be hard on Christy to get used to living in a cramped apartment after spending years living in a nice suburban home. Yet without Janet’s nursing wages, I simply couldn’t afford anything bigger than this apartment. I understood that with the change of housing and Christy being a teenage girl, she deserved the privacy the big room could afford. It still hurts to think about how she had pushed so hard to live with Janet during the whole ordeal. I knew how important her mother was to her, so I had offered every weekend to Janet, but she had said that two weekends a month was plenty of time for mother-daughter bonding. An uncomfortable smile still creeps onto my face when I think of the selfishness of her reply.

I slowly undressed and climbed into bed. The sheets felt frigid, but I’ve always enjoyed the feeling you get when you bring warmth to something cold. As I lay there knowing a good sleep was necessary to tolerate work the next day, I thought of Christy’s make-up. Christy had refused to let me help her with it before she went on the date. Instead, she had called her mother to see if Janet could drive over to our apartment to help her with it. Apparently Janet was pretty busy. She and her boyfriend-of-the-day were going to a musical, and she needed that time to find a babysitter for his daughter. Christy had spent a couple of hours in the bathroom trying to teach herself how to do it, and came out asking me if she looked all right. She was wearing far too much eyeliner, blush and mascara, but I told her she looked beautiful. I really thought she did, but whoever was taking her out probably would not agree. That same independent girl was sleeping, or on the phone, in the room right next to me, refusing to tell her own father how her night had gone. As tired as I was, that thought prevented me from sleeping, so I got up, grabbed the robe Janet bought me for my thirty-second birthday and went to Christy’s room.

She was sitting there on her bed with her legs crossed, squeezing her teddy bear as hard as she did the first day I bought it for her. The mascara was running down her cheeks, and she didn’t even look up when I entered the room. My initial instinct was to hug her, but if I had, it would have risked any chance of her opening up. She probably would have told me where the door was. I went over to her bed, and sat next to her.

“If you squeeze that bear any harder, it’s gonna stop breathin’,” I said.

She didn’t respond, but I could swear I heard a giggle under the sniffling and crying, so I smiled.

“Your mom didn’t call you back, did she?” I asked.

Again, there was no response. I didn’t need one. I made no attempts to hug her, but I ruffled her blonde hair. She dropped the teddy bear on the floor, and walked over to her full-size mirror. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, which was useless, as they were pouring from her eyes uncontrollably. She ran her fingers through her hair, preening. She adjusted her skirt, her top, and her bracelets as though she was going on another date. I sat there watching her fidget over the tiniest things, obsessing over a few out-of-place hairs, wondering what it was that she saw. As I looked at her, I could have told her all the things that I saw, things I admired in her, all that father-daughter kind of stuff that no kid wants to hear, but it wouldn’t have mattered to her.

“You know, I’m not your little girl anymore,” Christy said as clearly as she’s ever said anything to me before.

I took a moment to ponder what she just said, and thought she was just telling me to leave the room in her own way. I said “I know” and was about to leave when she spoke again.

“No, you don’t. After tonight, I’m really not your little girl anymore,” she repeated, but this time she laughed one of her bubbly laughs underneath the tears.

That same laugh that is the sweetest sound to me in the entire world, at that moment, was alarming. She stopped adjusting her outfit, and she even stopped looking at herself in the mirror. Her head dropped, she folded her arms, and her eyes were glued to the floor while the tears continued. I felt an ugliness in her body language. My heart was racing, my anger was becoming too much to handle, and I was starting to grind my teeth as I looked at her. I handled the situation in a manner I never would have before. I got up, walked over to my daughter’s side, and spoke.

“Never pretend to laugh when you’re trying to say something serious. Just say it,” I said convincingly, while looking at myself in the mirror.

She nodded her head a few times, and I took that as a sign that she understood what I meant. I glanced over at the pink, heart-shaped clock I had bought Christy for her tenth birthday. I was shocked at how awake I was considering it was 2:00 a.m.

“Why did you do it?” I asked in as soothing a voice as I could muster.

She took close to a minute to respond, but I would have waited an eternity for the answer.

“I don’t know. He took me to the movies and dinner, paid for it all. We were talking in his car afterwards. It just happened,” she said. “It felt good to be wanted.”

She didn’t move her body or her eyes. I didn’t move either. We both stood there letting our short bursts of conversation sink into our minds. I, however, looked at her reflection in the mirror the entire time. Nearly another minute passed, and she spoke again.

“If I don’t let myself be happy now…then when?” she said in almost a whisper.

My heart stopped racing. My anger evaporated. I stopped grinding my teeth. I didn’t hesitate. For the first time since I had become a father, I didn’t hesitate. I put my hand on her shoulder, and I looked at her. Her tears were pouring with more and more consistency, but I didn’t care. I waited. I wasn’t waiting for anything in particular, I just stood there next to my daughter, with my hand on her shoulder, waiting. She finally faced me, and our eyes met. Mine, dry and anxious. Hers, red and drenched in pain. She wrapped her arms around me. It wasn’t uncomfortably tight, but she hugged me tightly enough that I knew we hadn’t hugged in a while. We hugged for several minutes, and said absolutely nothing. Then we shifted positions. I was behind her with my arms wrapped around her chest, and her hands gripped my forearms sternly. We both looked at our reflection in the mirror.

I noticed something I hadn’t ever noticed before or, perhaps more accurately, taken the time to notice before. I noticed the lines on her face. It was challenging to see them because of the makeup which had run down her cheeks, but I noticed lines. Lines around the edges of her lips, lines by the sides of her eyes, and one very faint line on the top part of her forehead. As I looked at every aspect of her face, I couldn’t decide if I saw a girl, or a woman.

Running (A Short Story)

One week ago I boarded a bus at the Anaheim station, and with every mile driven, I was taken further and further from being a man.
Six televisions hanging from the roof and spacious seats with footrests made this bus seem like a pristine home that a lawyer would retire to. I was undeserving of it all.
I spotted two seats in the back corner immediately. I could sit there in silence for the entirety of the ride, but seconds after I slouched down into the corner seat, a tall man approached me.
“Excuse me, would it be all right with you if my son and I sat in those seats? It’s just that they’re the only two empty seats together,” he asked.
I craved the silence that these back seats promised, but when I saw the boy, I couldn’t refuse. His nervousness prevented him from making eye contact with me, so he stared at the floor while he squeezed his father’s hand tightly. It was clear to me that all

the boy wanted was the security of his father. I was familiar with that yearning. I complied.
I chose a seat right next to a man resembling Jesus. The stench of stale cigarette smoke surrounded him, and it was clear that he hadn’t shaved in weeks. He shuffled cards and I sat there thinking about the time I had taught myself to shave before my first real date.
Soon my mind wandered and was handcuffed by thoughts of Kelly. I was consumed with the thought of her giving birth to our child with no one’s hand to squeeze tightly. No husband or boyfriend to provide security, just an overwhelming sensation of loneliness she didn’t deserve. What bothered me the most was that no one would be there to tell her she didn’t deserve it.
I reached into my backpack and pulled out the photograph that was etched in my mind from hundreds of looks. It was a picture of Kelly and me at the beach, and I was instantly drawn to her jet black hair. I remember how her face lit up when she said “You’re going to be a father.” The words paralyzed me. And there I was one week later, running from the responsibility that was her womb.
“Pretty girl,” said the man sitting next to me. I was so involved with Kelly’s beauty that I hadn’t noticed him staring at the very same thing. “That your girlfriend?”
His voice was much smoother than his appearance would predict, but I was still reluctant to speak.
“She was,” I responded.

“Ya don’t get too many like that in your life, boy,” he said.
I peeled my eyes from the photograph and stared into his. They had a glowing hazel tint, and they were inviting and protective at the same time. He extended his hand and introduced himself as Richard.
“What happened?” he asked.
Participating in a conversation about Kelly was the last thing I wanted, but I had taught myself to be polite.
“It got complicated,” I muttered.
He laughed and continued shuffling his cards.
“Well, that’s a typical response. It’s not complicated, boy. You two in love or not?” he asked.
I felt an anger boil inside of me, not so much because of his simplistic view of my situation, but because that was the second time he called me boy. I’m twenty-three years old, and I’m not anyone’s boy. I’ve never been anyone’s boy.
“You sure love questions, Richie. “What about you? What are you doing on this bus?” I asked.
“My daughter graduated and doesn’t know what to do now, so I’m going to try and teach her a little bit about making decisions,” he responded with concern. At this point, my anger was replaced with jealousy.
“Well, I’ve never had anyone teach me about life and I turned out just fine,” I said. He stopped shuffling his cards, and as we stared at each other for several seconds, he knew not to question that.
When I was seven, my dad joined the Army and never came back, so I never got to ask him how to kiss a girl. In the tenth grade when beautiful Julie McVernon kissed me at a party, I pulled away and stared at her while a few people laughed at us. The tear streaming down her cheek told me that she thought I had rejected her. Frustrated and drunk, I ran to my house, grabbed a baseball bat, and smashed rear view mirrors off a few cars in my neighborhood. I also never got a chance to ask him how to fight. When a thief approached Kelly and me on our way home from our fourth date, I just stood there and let him take her purse. No matter how many times she told me that she didn’t care about the purse, that she was just glad we were safe, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t about the purse.
Fifteen minutes passed while I stared at the seat in front of me. As the last hint of sunlight was swallowed by darkness, silence fell over the bus. Just as I closed my eyes in hopes of some rest, I heard Richard clear his throat.
“Since you can’t answer my question, why don’t we let the cards decide?” he asked without a trace of a smile.
I turned to him and laughed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He continued to shuffle his cards and stare at me. “I asked you if you two are in love and you said it was complicated. Well, let’s simplify it. Let’s flip one card. If it’s red, you call that girl and see if you two can’t work out whatever the problem is. If it’s black, you burn that picture and never think twice about her. If you can’t make your own decisions, the cards can do it for you.”
I smiled and shook my head, wondering if he was joking. When I looked back at him, he gave me the same look I had given him when I told him that no one had taught me about life. I didn’t question him.
“Flip the card,” I said in a low voice.
He shuffled the cards slowly, and I thought of how I should have placed my hands on Julie McVernon’s waist. I should have run my hands through her lacey brown hair, leaned in confidently, and felt what it would been like to place my lips on hers. I thought about how I should have thrown everything I had at that thief, regardless of the beating I would surely have gotten. At least Kelly would have known that I can be her strength when she needs it.
Richard stopped shuffling. I watched him cut the deck in half, and place his index and middle finger, which had a scar right next to the nail, on a card. I felt my temperature rise as I turned my head. He withdrew it from the deck and flipped it over. I slowly turned my head back and stared at it. Black eight of clubs.
As the bus pulled into the Los Angeles bus station, I thanked Richard for his help. I gathered my things and pushed past a few people to the front of the bus. Just before opening the door of the station, I glanced to my left and saw the young boy and his father who I had given my seat up to. The bitter three a.m. cold prevented me from watching them for any longer than a second. I walked up to a woman working at the station and smiled at her.
“I need the next available bus going to Anaheim,” I said with more confidence than I’d ever had.