By: Zara Lewis
Dear Student Debt,
The majority of us are dreading the time when we have to begin to start paying you off. For me, my student debt is just an imaginary number, stored away on computers that I don’t want to have access to, and that I do not want to know the balance of. I’m sure you can relate when I say that paying off that dreaded debt is the last thing I’m looking forward to when I finally manage to secure a job.
In the meantime, living in student debt is a life where every dollar counts. It is a joyous moment when that extra tooney is found at the bottom of your bag and you can afford to buy a Tim’s coffee to accompany an exciting breakfast of dry toast. Ok, so I might be painting the student debt picture a little too grim, there are some perks of living in ignorance on behalf of the bank’s generosity. But all in all, at the end of the day, it boils down to the simple question: how well can you stretch your budget? Whenever there is the latest offer at Metro where pasta is only 88 cents for a pack, do you and your friends hurry on down to get every last pasta shell to stock the cupboards with? Or, when toilet paper goes on sale, do you stock up to your hearts content as if you were never going to leave the toilet for the rest of your life? Yes, it is these very tactics that we poor students have to embrace in order to make our way in the world of student debt.
But instead of ending this rant on a depressing note about student debt, I think that the one thing living in student debt will teach all of us students is how to make a lot out of something little. For example, those nights that we don’t remember anything except going out with fifteen dollars and having the best night of our lives - who knew it was even possible? So yes, living in student debt is certainly not ideal, but we might as well work at having a laugh and taking advantage of the sales of Metro whilst we’re poor, in debt and, most of all, young.
Yours Sincerely,
An optimistic broke student
By: Jamie Hillman
Dear Neighbours,
As a retired trick-or-treater, I have experienced many a Halloween throughout the years. And through this, I've managed to develop a route in my neighbourhood that only includes the 'good houses.'
By that, I'm referring to those awesome neighbours that give out cans of pop, and the full size chocolate bars. Score. And I am confident I can speak on behalf of all the candy-hunting witches, ghosts, and vampires when I say that there is absolutely nothing worse than eagerly knocking on a door, full of hope and a need for sugar, only to discover a bowl full of apples greeting you on the other side. We can all share in that sensation of disappointment as we put on a fake smile, and mutter a monotone, “thank you,” before running off to the next house.
We know you have the best intentions, but Halloween is the one night of the year that we are allowed to indulge in sweet treats without punishment from our parents. Apples just weigh down our bag, and I hate to break it to you, but they always end up as puréed mush on the side of the road once we're out of sight. It's not just fruit that can ruin our Halloween haul though; I know I always dreaded getting those McDonalds coupons that expired within a week, and those awful brown, chewy candies that get stuck in your teeth. Also, we could really live without a ballpoint pen obnoxiously advertising your company, or even worse - a toothbrush.
There are so many great options being thrown in your face as you walk into the grocery store, so there really is no reason why unsuspecting children should end up with a handful of loose peanuts and scotch mints at the bottom of their bag at the end of the evening.
Even though you might be the sweetest old lady on the block, we've been programmed since our very first Halloween not to accept any homemade goods as they've obviously been poisoned. It may seem ungrateful to complain about free candy, but let's face it, there are just certain products that merit more when making trades at the end of the night. So, when debating what to hand out at the door this year, don't rummage through your cupboards for some old boxes of raisins - just stick to the basics, and hopefully you'll make it on to the 'good house' list for next year.
Sincerely,
Ex trick-or-treater
By: Miranda Babbitt
Dear Overhyped Technology,
I’m speaking on behalf of all of those who don’t live under a rock and are held subject to the absurdly frantic hype over what is called the iPhone 5. Apple fanboys have been lighting up cyberspace with mock trailers for months, spurring intensified critique of the current iPhone 4S, and spending 98.7 per cent of their time dreaming about their new life, so radically changed with this new phone.
The new design has been deemed “revolutionary,” a complete “breakthrough” and “lighter and skinnier than ever before.” But am I the only one feeling that nagging sense of déjà vu: haven’t they called every redesign thus far revolutionary? Each one poised to simply knock your socks off? Sorry to inform you, Apple, but I can confidently say that my socks are snugly on my feet. I have never awoken to a newspaper article featuring the newest design of the iPhone and consequently fallen from my chair in sheer sock and awe. And to anyone who has, you may want have your inner ear checked, because you’re clearly imbalanced.
How am I so stonehearted, you ask? How are my nerves made of such steel, nay, titanium, in the face of such ground-breaking design? Well, fellow consumers, it stems from the irrepressible irritation created by the incessantly repeated “updates” to an identical phone! In a sense, it seems as though the inner snob in all of us is elucidated when we can feel the newest iPhone in our pockets, as if it was the ring from Lord of the Rings, power pulsing through you, seeking envy in the eyes of those you speak to. Conversations ensue, and it becomes a challenge to drop the fact that you have the “game-changing” phone by your side, acting as though the phone from three generations ago is almost the same thing as an infamous Nokia brick. The iPhone 4S will now be met with an “oh, cool,” escaping from their subtly condescending lips, as if you just told them you prefer mailing letters via pigeon carrier. In actual fact, that would be far cooler than any phone on the market. Who wants to bring back pigeon mail? Nokia, this is your chance to shine!
Now I hate to sound so brash. Admittedly, I have tapped into some of the beauty of Apple on my own. I’m the proud owner of an iPhone, a MacBook, and some family member down the line has an iPad, I’m sure. I know others who have virtually every product released by them, and others who stick to simply one. Regardless, it is undeniable that Apple has made a permanent mark on the consumer world, and it has come out of repeated innovations that have literally changed the dynamic of technological products. No longer are these advancements confined to the awe of the nerdier elite of society, but it has stretched over the world to an unfathomable degree. It is something to be feared though, when people will sacrifice all logic for an obsessive frenzy over the release of a product that really doesn’t seem to be that innovative on its own anyhow. How much is marketing and how much is true innovation? How desperate are we to be a part of this advancing technological world that we will buy the newest products every time, not questioning their value but simply praising their name?
I know we love to pick on our old fogeys of parents, pointing out the flaw in their story of the trek to school being two hills up, chuckling at their confused faces as they attempt to send emails, feeling all high and mighty when they ask you how to add a friend on Facebook, but what were they waiting in line for, camping out for in the prime of their earlier years? Legendary rock festivals, like Woodstock, which gathered 400,000 people, or tickets to Jimi Hendrix or Led Zeppelin. The phenomenon of being the die-hards for a certain niche of the entertainment world came from genuinely sick things you could go to. Not for some game that you’ll hide in your basement and play, or for a phone that you paid someone to stand in line for (oh, the things that could go wrong there). And it’s not like after we get the iPhone, we rush home and do crazily innovative things with it, like solving world hunger with an app, checking out some x-rays as though we were McDreamy from Grey’s Anatomy, being Picasso for an afternoon whilst using your finger to draw a stick man – let’s be real. We Instagram, we tweet, we Facebook, we game alone on the bus.
Essentially, phone companies of the world, you’re making us less cool than our parents, with their hipster records and vintage photos of their afros gleaming in the sun. And as impossible as that sounds, it’s becoming a tragic reality. Stop the hype. Let us be cool again.
Sincerely,
@FedUpWithPhoneHype #whenwillitend #hashtag
By: Ronald Leung
Dear Cold Season,
I sit in my 8:30 a.m. lecture, still fighting my eyelids despite the mountain of caffeine pumping into my brain. Nothing punctures the soft hum of my professor’s voice as it drifts across – oh wait, what was that I heard? And then again. And again. It pops up around the room in an almost random order; a mundane sound, but one that truly heralds a great change. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, the winter cough is slowly but surely squirming into, and out of, our throats. But wait – doesn’t the sight of leaves falling peacefully and the bright crisp mornings prophesize a time of frolicking through snow, vacations and gifts? Not necessarily. What about the frosted cheeks and toes? The chattering teeth playing percussion to the slip slop of slush growing in the entrances of buildings… I can almost hear it now.
But what about snow, that’s fun right? The white fluff is a trigger for nostalgia, bringing back many fond childhood memories of sledding, snowmen and the familiar sphere of semi-solid water exploding on my sister’s tuque. It also brings slippery surfaces when it freezes so beware all you drivers – you better have been paying attention during drivers’ ed. But even then, long delays and detours await the bus-rider as everyone collectively tries to navigate the ice covered highways and streets. No more outdoor football or soccer on rich rolling rugs of green grass while the sun radiates warmly – good luck trying to run through 5 feet of snow. Get ready to strap on your collection of heavy parkas, gloves, scarves, hats, and boots. Also, have fun putting all that on and taking all that off after walking five minutes to class. If you live in a house, make sure your shovel is up and ready to go to battle with the waist-high white blankets that carpet your driveway overnight. While you’re slowly transforming to a human popsicle in negative 20 - oh wait it’s actually negative 40 with wind chill - you can think of the warm smooth beaches with clear blue waves lapping the shore in Hawaii. Perhaps that’ll warm you up. Whether or not you are a fan of the sun setting at 4 p.m., bitterly cold weather, or a labyrinth of snow and ice (arriving at a sidewalk near you) there’s no doubt that the cold season is approaching.
Trading out Kleenex for toilet paper, dedicating one mitten as the snot-mitten, wondering if Fortino’s sells gallon-jugs of VapoRub… There is nothing quite so picture-perfect.
We’ll make it.
As with our coughs, we’ll hack it.
Yours, but only for a little,
The Sickly
By: Devra Charney
Dear City of Hamilton Garbage and Recycling Day,
You know that I love you. Love waking up for you every Monday at 6:59 a.m. Love not seeing my garbage collected until three hours later. Love it when sometimes my flyers from last week end up scattered on my front lawn. But there are a few concerns I’d like to discuss. Where better to start than at the beginning: my first encounter with you, which, coincidentally, was the same morning that my housemates and I discovered our infestation of fruit flies.
We had been keeping our garbage in the mudroom, since despite your friendly online advice to put our trash out anytime after 7 p.m. the night before, we wanted to avoid raccoons knocking over the bins and tearing into the bags. Until your arrival on Monday morning, we thought that we had devised an effective strategy for avoiding garbage-related pests. Upon opening the door to the back room, though, we were greeted by a swarm of fruit flies buzzing around our lidless bins.
We hauled our green bin, recycling, and garbage bin out to the curb to make sure that we’d be on time for your 7 a.m. collection before doing damage control in the kitchen. Google searches eventually yielded a recipe that claimed we could solve our problem by placing a concoction of vinegar and dish soap in containers around the room. For the duration of our fruit fly eradication, we decided to keep our bins outside until the house was fly free.
When our garbage was finally collected mid-afternoon, our green bin had the same number of bags in it as before you came. Although your web guide promises a note providing a list of possible reasons our trash could have been skipped, no such explanation was left for our full bags of wet waste. Through the process of elimination, we learned that green bins are not collected when compostable waste is placed in non-biodegradable bags.
As it turns out, raccoons aren’t as particular about bag choices as you are because a few days later, our green bin was lying on its side with food scraps spilling out of its open lid. No trace of bags could be found amongst the blackened banana peels and crushed eggshells. We might not have had a fruit fly problem in our kitchen anymore, but the number of flies circling our green bin came close to the number caught in our vinegar and dish soap traps.
For the first time, our garden hose and shovel were put to good use. We scooped the mound of rotted food scraps into a biodegradable bag so that it would not be passed over on your next arrival and hosed down our green bin until it looked clean enough to eat out of, even for non-raccoons. Our final step was placing all of our bins safely back inside the mudroom.
You’ve thrown us a lot of curve balls, Garbage and Recycling Day, but next Monday morning, we’ll be ready for you. 6:59 a.m. can’t get here early enough.
Thank you,
Fruit Fly and Raccoon Wranglers of McMaster
