With attendance numbers growing from 10 000 (Bruce Banner) to approximately 50 000 (Hulk capacity) since 2009, Calgary Comic & Entertainment Expo is becoming the Canadian mecca for all things nerdy. For three days, I explored the sights, sounds and (Holy Thor!) the smells of Western Canada’s answer to San Diego Comic Con.
The fan-furious and the con-curious can enjoy anything from vendors and memorabilia to meeting famous guests. This year’s celebrity roster included comic creator Stan Lee, actor Adam West and wrestler Jake “The Snake” Roberts. The Expo is also a great opportunity to meet talented artists, whether they be seasoned industry pros or web-based independents in Artist Alley. Costumes are optional but encouraged. Conventions like this are a magical place where introverts become extroverted, and where it is never taboo to ask, “Can I take your picture?”
The kitchen is full of feet. Years of church dinners, school fundraisers, and the occasional wedding have left scuffs. The floor carries the bulk, each footprint and shoe sole leaving behind a faint mark, imprinting the day, the date and the event into the kitchen forever. For the kitchen is full of feet, but the result is comforting, never off-putting. It sounds of someone running to stop a pot from boiling over, smells of another person basting a turkey and every other passionate soul who created food within its four walls. After today, the kitchen will vibrate with children and smell of pizza and cake and ice cream.
When I first heard about genetically-modified (GM) food, I reeled at the ingenuity of customizing a food product through the very source: DNA. The prospect sounded like something from a science fiction film. To be honest, it was a little unnerving. For the time being, though, I shrugged off the idea that I might personally have eaten GM foods. I assumed I’d know one if I saw one.
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arrive at Hoyne Brewery and am greeted outside by four large garbage cans full of spent grains, waiting to be picked up and taken to the farm they came from. Inside, the floor is freshly laid cement, complete with handprints and signatures of those who built the brewery. Sean Hoyne is standing over one of the three copper cylinders he brews his beer in. He’s just completed a batch of beer and is scrubbing down the inside of the cylinder through the hatch at the top. He turns to greet me smiling in his gumboots, blue jeans and white T-shirt. He grins and takes off his gloves to shake my hand. He looks as someone at the start of something good ought to look — excited.
The explosion of electronic music has left a mess. Shards of dubstep, hip-hop and good old fashioned instruments lie scattered on streets of progressive house, trance avenues and electro boulevards. Remixes pile up like casualties at the corner of Soundcloud and YouTube. Music listeners are digging through the rubble, frantically looking for old friends and new finds. And no one knows what the hell is going on.
Imagine you’re with your boyfriend in your shared apartment. The two of you lie in bed post-heated-frantic-coitus, the sheets a tangled mess around your half-naked bodies. He gets up to re-dress as you prop yourself on one elbow and watch him yank on his pants. He heads into the bathroom, brushes his teeth, kisses you goodbye, and takes off for work.
I was eleven years old when I got my first job delivering newspapers. It was 1985 and I had wanted a route for years, since the older kids in my neighborhood had routes. I also loved reading newspapers. And I wanted to master the subtle art of the newspaper throw.
Sex without consent isn’t sex. It’s sexualized assault. Period. But how do we know when we’re engaging consensually? Better yet, how can we actively ensure enthusiastic consent in our relationships? When we actively work to ensure consent is present, we have sex where we’re communicating and enthusiastic.
You are suffering from overhydration,” Dr. Wayne Smith said, running a hand through his greying hair. “You are drinking so much water that it is becoming like a poison in your body.”
No one likes change but babies in diapers,” once said Barbara Johnson, American literary critic and poststructuralist professor at Harvard University who died in 2009.
I stand at the edge of the roadside, patient, my thumb directed confidently skywards. I am perched on the precipice of possibility. Freedom. The road extends enticingly. It pulsates with promise. Everything I need is in a pack resting at my feet. Liberty. The opposite side of the highway beckons, teasing with the allure of an alternate destiny. All that stands between me and changing my fate is a dozen steps and a dashed yellow line. Independence. I can feel the desiccating prairie wind stumble with heat stroke through the shimmering waves, rising from the baking Saskatchewan asphalt. Then again, I may be mistaken. Perhaps what I hear is the rustle of leaves from the New England maples that border the lazy, rolling roads of Vermont. Or maybe I am seeing the sun-soaked surf in the distance, interrupting my Vancouver Island vantage point from the towering coastal range of mainland British Columbia. Not that it matters. I am hitchhiking, and the journey is just as important as the destination.
It’s
3 p.m. on a Monday and I’m sitting in my afternoon writing lecture. The professor has been reviewing their Powerpoint slides for the past half-hour and my attention has inevitably slipped away from the content of the class. In one open window of my laptop, I’m brewing ideas for the paper due at the end of this week; in another, I’m editing photos for a commercial photo shoot I did over the weekend. In my busy life, this is the perfect opportunity to get some work done. I half-listen to the lecture, perking up when a question is asked.
I first remember hearing about acupuncture back when I was in elementary school. My mom was seeing an acupuncturist for some reason, and I remember her talking about the profound emotional and psychological impact the experience was having on her.
My little brother Tyler was a still lump under a pile of light baby blankets. He was six weeks old and weighed less than five pounds — about the same as a small cat. He lay motionless in his crib. Only his quiet, trembling breaths gave any
indication that he was alive. Upstairs in the foster home, his three older siblings played on the floor of the bright living room while he slept in darkness.
When I first enter the 10 000-square foot opera shop on Discovery Street where Pacific Opera Victoria (POV) builds its productions, I am struck by the emptiness of the front room. POV is the only opera company in Canada that builds sets from scratch for every opera it produces. I’d expected every square inch of the shop to be bristling with Valkyrie costumes and Viking helmets from past shows. Instead, a few employees eat lunch at a sparse table. A single piece of paper is pinned to a large bulletin board. On the paper is a picture of a tree that’s fallen and crushed a house. Under the picture are the words, “I’m a lumberjack and I’m — oh, shit.”
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Vic athletics has made an uncanny discovery this year — a gene that promotes soccer success. For the first time in Bruce Wilson’s 25-year reign as head coach of the Vikes men’s soccer team, three brothers — Lucas, Wesley and Gavin Barrett; 25, 23 and 21 respectively — are playing for him at the same time.
For $32, Julie Gubisch will transform someone into a Mexican bandit. For 44, she’ll make a couple into swashbuckling pirates — eye patch optional. For 60 she’ll turn three young tourists into saloon girls. For eight people or more, see pack¬ages. Dogs, add $10.
Healing Farm is an ecosystem unto itself. Fruit trees, honeybees, nuts, free-range egg-laying chickens and patches of forest and meadow make up the 18-acre rural Saanich farm. The farm’s owners, Mike and Sharyn Romaine, aim to facilitate a “reconnection between people and their environment” by providing certified organic products. As my friends and I drove onto the farm, we stopped to photograph a colourful yellow bird flying about the surrounding woods, which are a part of the property left alone to preserve ecological integrity, prevent soil erosion and help regulate water.
