Sophia Topper
Staff Reporter
How did three high school band geeks end up opening for Theory of a Deadman? McMaster band Daydrunk’s origin story is one of auspicious coincidences and last minute frenzies. Jordan Hallin, a fourth-year philosophy student, who plays guitar and vocals, is also the resident story-spinner. Last winter he happened upon an MSU “Last Band Standing” poster and thought, “This is something I’ve always wanted to do, so why not throw this crazy thing together?”
With just days before the Feb. 1 deadline, Hallin recruited his acquaintance Marty Vandenberk, a third-year sociology student. The group needed a third member because the competition prioritized larger bands. Luckily Marty’s housemate, Rhett Amin, a bass player, was just next door. They called out, “Hey Rhett, you’re gonna be in a band with us,” and he obliged. The first time they practiced together was while recording their audition.
Amin’s bass is a defining part of Daydrunk’s sound. The bass often takes on elements of the melody and as Hallin said, “Rhett does things on the bass that consistently surprise me.” The early rush of success for the band has had a large influence, explained Amin. He said, “We have way more shows than we have practices, we have to listen to each other.” This unity exists offstage as well; said Hallin, “We’re the best of friends.”
Their opportunity to open for Theory of a Deadman came about in much the same way as the band got together. Hallin discovered the Whiskey Rocks contest three days before it closed, and sprang into action. Vandenberk said, “Jordan came to our house one day and said, we’re going to do this. Jordan always comes to us with these crazy ideas, and our first reaction is ‘you want to do what?’”
They filmed their music video in just one day, and Amin and Hallin spent six hours editing their footage. “I don’t think I’ve ever worked harder on anything,” Hallin said.
Ironically, the Whiskey Rocks contest, run by the LCBO, would not allow them to use the name Daydrunk, because they said that it promotes irresponsible drinking. Their fans on Facebook suggested switching the name to Dray drunk, which was viagra alternative accepted by the contest coordinators.
That wasn’t the only snag they ran into. Going from coffeehouse nights at Mac’s Bridges Cafe to the London Music Hall was a big change, but the band took their mistakes, such as hitting microphones, as learning opportunities. “We got to experience things going wrong and everything turning out all fine,” said Vandenberk. The band also shared their appreciation for the friends and family that came out to support them. “What they really don’t understand,” explained Hallin, “is how much it means and how much it helps us.”
Daydrunk was overjoyed by the success of their set. Hallin, who was still wearing his performer’s wristband during our interview, describes the experience as “unbelievable.” “We’ve had the experience of playing on a sound system that can deafen small children, how often can you do that?” said Vandenberk. Theory of a Deadman, who was once their childhood hero, came up to them afterwards and congratulated them on their performance.
They plan to build off this success by putting out more music in the next two months, and hope to release a full album by next summer. Daydrunk also has ideas for a benefit concert for the music program Vandenberk worked for in high school. Hallin said he hopes his shows “always have a cause…using your music to spread music to more people, what’s the downside?”
Sophia Topper
Staff Reporter
It was beautiful.
The sky was blue, the brick was red, the grass was green and the tree was so, so, gold.
I remembered sitting on the scratchy carpet in Mrs. Nordahl’s grade one class, learning about why trees change colour in the fall. As autumn days are cut to darkness and fall is cut to winter, the green pigments flood out, extraneous without the light that feeds them. Gold is the colour of death.
But as we extoll upon fall’s fiery beauty, we might ask why we find it so. The reds and yellows splattering our campus are omens of winter, and a symbol of vanishing vitality. They are the tree’s last words, and their parting gift before a barren darkness.
As I stood next to viagra canada Bates residence staring up at this incredible tree, I wondered why we don’t revel in spring the same way. Sure, everyone loves spring, the blissful rebirth after a harsh winter, but we don’t savour it. We keep looking ahead to summer. Fall is different because it’s ephemeral. We know it won’t last. We don’t like what comes next.
The leaves remind us how little time we have left. Fall inspires people to do things: go for one last hike before it gets icy, wear your sandals one last time, roast around one last bonfire, eat one last bowl of squash soup and live as much as possible before frigidity sets in and we all retreat to tunnels and dorms.
It was a bit of a shock to come inside and open up a magazine to a spread on anti-aging creams, serums and cleansers. Society doesn’t find beauty in wrinkles and grey hairs, but they’re no different from gold and red leaves.
When a woman looks in the mirror and spots her first wrinkle, the tired trope calls for a catastrophic melt down. She looks in the mirror and curses all the things that caused it. All those afternoons sunbathing on the lawn, those blissful cigarette study breaks, the late nights imbibing with friends, she stares in the mirror and wishes she could take them all back. Is it really worth it to lose all those joyful moments for a less flawed face?
When a man spots his first grey hair, he doesn’t celebrate the fact he lived long enough to earn one, he worries that he has lost his looks. He fears he looks old, tired, like his grandfather.
If a tree could see its leaves, how would it feel? Would it rejoice in its new beauty, or fear their imminent loss? We dislike signs of age in ourselves because they remind us of how much time we have left, but rather than plan how to spend it most people plan how to keep it from showing. What if grey hair and wrinkles were treated like fall, inspiring us to really carpe diem this time, instead of feeding into the $114 billion anti-aging industry. Couldn’t that money be better spent making the most of our own personal autumns?
I know that a bunch of college students who won’t be facing this anytime soon may not be the best people to make this plea to, but it starts with you. Next time you see your grandmother, try to appreciate the silver in her hair like you appreciate the gold in the leaves. If you’re lucky, that’ll be you some day. It can be beautiful too.
Sophia Topper
Staff Reporter
I’m standing outside the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory, gorging myself on a chocolate-covered Nanaimo bar when I feel a strange sensation at the back of my head. I pause, and once again I feel my hair being tugged. I turn around, and I’m suddenly face to face with a woman, who is currently stroking the ends of my hair.
“Never cut your hair,” she offers, as if caressing strangers is perfectly normal. She tells me she’s a hair dresser and continues, “I’m telling all my girls to grow their hair out now. Long thick hair is going to be big this spring!” I’m shocked, and as she continues to run her fingers through my almost waist length hair, I offer a confused “thank you?”
I’m not as surprised as one might expect. At the time, I had extremely thick, long hair. I was used to my friends asking to braid it, and even mere acquaintances discussing my hair with me, a topic that interested them far more than me. A few months later, I was approached again by two women who stroked my hair and demanded that I never cut it.
I didn’t listen, of course. I cut it all off after getting fed up by the fourteen hours it took to dry, and its propensity for getting caught in doors, sweaters and, most glamorously, my armpits. When I returned to school after the big chop, nearly eighty people commented, most with barely disguised disappointment. My hair raises some very strong opinions, and it isn’t even very interesting.
My personal space violations were nothing compared to what people of colour face every day. Living on the ethnically homogeneous Vancouver Island, my friend Tokoni regularly had people ask to touch her braids, and for anyone sporting a ‘fro, the intrusions are even more frequent.
Why do people think that hair is immune to the keep-your-hands-to-yourself rule we all had drilled into us in kindergarten? Why does anyone even want to touch it? Hair is such a contentious issue in society, from the choice to leave it natural for black women, to covering it up for Muslim women to growing it out for men. When I cut my hair, I even had someone ask “so does this mean you’re gay now?”
Hair is another way to signal our identity to the world, but unlike throwing on a Grateful Dead tee, growing it out or cutting it off takes a lot more commitment. It goes beyond just aesthetics, and how much or how little time we put into it shows a lot about how we feel. Just look at the difference between the hairstyle of choice during the first week of school, all clean and styled, and during exams, when greasy ponytails prevail.
Hair is a method of expression, and identifying what niche one belongs to. To end with the words of Timbuk3, “how well do we use our freedom to choose the illusions we create?”
Sophia Topper
Staff Reporter
McMaster has countless faith-based clubs and organizations, but they lack a place to interact. For years, the creation of a multi-faith centre has been in the works, but these plans have not come to fruition.
“It gets talked about, but it doesn’t seem to happen,” said Reverend Carol Wood, a McMaster Chaplain. “Every group has to support their own religious advisor."
“For a long time I’ve been interested in interfaith dialogue,” said Wood, an Ecumenical Chaplain. She has worked to create the Daughters of Abraham program, a group of Jewish, Muslim and Christian women.
The program arose from “some major tensions in years past...We worked to create some dialogue sessions to speak to some conflict areas,” explained Rev. Wood.
However, this still excludes men and those of other faiths from the discussion.
Rev. Wood looks towards the University of Toronto multi-faith centre as an example of the possibilities such a place could yield. The centre boasts a meditation space with a living green wall, a prayer space for 200 and a smoke detection system that can be altered to allow for traditional smudge ceremonies to occur.
However, explained Rev. Wood, the muli-faith centre at U of T was a “year in the procurement and implementation.”
“[Although] two proposals went out, and the [David Braley Athletic Centre] wanted to create an open space that would be a place for people to practice as well as a space for programming, and some unprogrammed times… a bit more money [was needed] than what was available,” said Rev. Wood.
Such space would “allow people to mix and interact, which I think is pretty important,” Wood said.
Dr. Liyakat Takim, Sharjah Chair in Global Islam said, “I think that’s a very important idea… we live in a multi-faith society, and that demands multi-faith gatherings.”
“It still won’t accommodate every single interfaith need…at least it’s a start,” said Rev. Wood.
While groups involved in the development of a multi-faith centre see its value, some students are not as keen on the idea.
One such student, Emily Wilson, said, “I think that different religions are really interesting, but I don’t think I would utilize a multi-faith centre, and I don’t think many people would.”
First-year Arts and Science student Liana Glass said, “I don’t think that people would go to things that are for a faith other than their own, except for people who are objectively interested in religion and not there for spiritual purposes.”
Sophia Topper
Staff Reporter
A couple Saturday afternoons ago, I drunkenly berated an unsuspecting guy in Centro about his coffee choices. Now, this was homecoming, so a little belligerency, while rude, was not unexpected. Now that I have offered a paltry defense for my ill-manners, you are probably wondering what about his coffee raised my ire. Am I a Starbucks diva? A black coffee snob? A patriotic double-double drinker? No. I am passionate about fair trade.
To me, it’s simple.
You can pay the same price for two products, one of which contributes to some horrific living conditions in Latin America, and one does not. Perhaps Fair Trade is not perfect: Direct Trade is being heralded as the best thing in responsible consumption these days. Nevertheless, it isn’t really about Fair Trade – it’s about the little things.
I am mystified by some people’s reticence about performing these small tasks. Sure, you may prefer the Colombian Dark to the Brazilian Dark, but really, it’s one dollar drip, not a glamorous espresso based concoction—is there that much of a difference? Perhaps to you, there is. I’m not demanding that you deny yourself the things you love. This is about the little things after all.
Let’s look at another beverage: bottled water.
Just buy a reusable water bottle already. Please, just buy a water bottle.
I understand, I really do. I admit to visiting a vending machine once in a while, and hating myself the whole time. I lose water bottles all the time, too. But each bottle I buy is a fresh chance that, maybe, this time I’ll manage to hold on to the same bottle for more than a week.
But needing water on the go, and being far from fountains, is a different issue than those who simply refuse to drink tap water. Someone who lives just down my hall takes a cab once every few weeks to load up of flats of bottles, because he will not condescend to drink Hamilton city water. I didn’t believe it when I first heard either. This is ridiculous. Some bottled water is just tap water anyway, and some does not even pass the stringent standards imposed on municipal water, so any justification beyond convenience is moot.
Small choices like these really do add up. Even simpler actions, like turning off the lights in empty rooms, buying shampoo that has not been tested on animals or even just a smile or a nod of acknowledgement at someone passing in the hallway is not by any measure strenuous.
Every decision you make is a statement. It’s a statement about your ideals, your principles and how much you care about the world around you. Think about what you’re saying.
Sophia Topper
The Silhouette
If you feel that life is not worth living, and have felt that way for quite some time, then you may have depression.
If you do poorly on a test, you are dejected. You are not depressed.
If you are driven to distraction every time a volume dial isn’t left on a multiple of five, you may have OCD.
If you like to have all your dirty laundry in your hamper, then you are a tidy person. You do not have OCD.
Our culture is consumed by hyperbole. You aren’t hungry — you’re starving. You hit your snooze button a million times this morning. Your backpack weighs more than an elephant, because your laptop is from the Stone Age. Things are never good enough the way they are. Everything needs to be extreme, to be epic. This inflation is fine for mundane complaints, but when it starts to extend into subjects such as mental health, it becomes problematic.
The language we use to describe ourselves and our feelings has implications that reach far further than some angsty Facebook statuses. Saying that you’re “depressed” because Breaking Bad ended negates the actual depression that I feel because my brain chemistry is messed up.
I’m not just griping because I want to feel special and exclusive. The appropriation of mental illness is troubling because it obscures the actual cries for help. When someone says “I’m really depressed and overwhelmed right now,” they should be met with concern, empathy, suggestions to visit the Wellness Centre, open arms and minds, not “yeah, me too, I only got a C on that paper!”
Generally, if you can fix your mood with a trip to Yogurty’s, you are not depressed. It is incredibly difficult to come forwards and ask for help, so please don’t trivialize it.
The appropriation of mental illness goes beyond depression. Think of all the times you’ve heard people describe themselves as “OCD.” First, no one is OCD—that’s like saying “I am chickenpox.” OCD is a potentially debilitating illness that causes intrusive unpleasant thoughts if certain compulsions are not recognized. Liking exactly two and half sugar cubes in your tea is just picky. Likewise, ADD and ADHD are medical conditions, not trendy excuses for laziness or always checking Facebook. It’s important not to obscure the needs of people battling mental illness just to attempt to make yourself stand out.
It’s even worse when this language contributes to the stigma. Calling the weather “bi-polar” may not seem like a big deal, but it plays into all the negative stereotypes of the disorder. Same with calling some a “Schizo”: it’s obviously rude, but it also attributes negative behaviour to the disorder that doesn’t even fit the diagnosis.
Using clinical definitions does not mean you have a varied vocabulary. It means you are obscuring the seriousness of actual issues. If someone tells you they are depressed, reach out. Take it seriously. Don’t let hyperbole prevent you from helping someone in need.
Sophia Topper
The Silhouette
On June 30, a torrent of hatred was unleashed onto LGBTQ+ Russians. Vladimir Putin signed a new bill into law that criminalizes the propaganda of non-traditional sexual relations to minors. This bill, voted 436 in favour, zero against, leaves the definition of ‘propaganda’ vague, police officers stretch this to include any information accepting non-hetero sexualities, or even holding hands with a same-sex partner.
This comes 20 years post-decriminalization, but two-thirds of Russians still believe that homosexuality is an unacceptable aberration. Worse than just the fines levied against those promoting ‘relations not conductive to procreation,’ as they are euphemistically described, is the escalation of anti-gay violence.
Prior to the vote, a kiss in was held in protest. Neo-Nazis hurled eggs at the couples while singing orthodox songs and chanting, “Moscow is not Sodom.” The situation became violent and LGBTQ+ protesters were savagely beaten, and the police, there to monitor the situation, arrested the protestors rather than the attackers.
The police and government blame the LGBTQ+ protesters for the violence, and insist that this law is to protect them. Officials say that ‘gays incite hatred upon themselves’ and need to be protected from their own extremism. These laws extend even to gay and ‘pro-gay’ foreigners, and domestic ‘suspect gays,’ who dare support those suffering in these horrific conditions.
This anti-gay rhetoric is defended by Putin, who claims that “no infringement on sexual minority’s rights” exists. He also says that these measures are necessary to protect youth, Russia’s birth rate and the orthodoxy. More importantly, Putin is doing his best to align himself with conservatives and the Orthodox Church by scapegoating Russia’s gay population.
The rate of approval of homosexuality among Russians is nearly equal to those in America three decades ago, but acceptance of homosexuality has actually declined since 2007, contrary to other nations where gay people are beginning to enjoy the equal rights they deserve. Russians are without gay public figures: there are no out politicians or celebrities and Russia’s Cultural Minister is even attempting to rewrite history and straighten out Tchaikovsky.
If you’re looking to support Russians under attack, make sure that your actions are not a waste of energy. The proposed Vodka boycott is slacktivism at its prime. Keep enjoying your Smirnoff and Stoli—both are no longer produced or owned in Russia. Besides, these boycotts are interpreted as attacks, justifying the Russia xenophobia.
If you’d really like to make a change, do something in support of the LGTBQ+ folk here in Canada, where you can effect change much more efficiently. You can also sign online petitions that pressure the government into condemning the 76 countries that go farther than Russia into outright criminalization. Donating to Russian LGTBQ+ organizations is the most tangible way of supporting their cause, and allows them to pay any fines levied against them.
Above all, the issue of homophobia needs to be tied into problems that are considered more pressing to the Russian majority. Due to the widespread public support for these laws, Putin is able to use them to bolster his role as Papa Putin, protector of Russia’s traditional values. However, if we are able to link this discrimination to issues that are already loathed by majority, like the ubiquitous corruption, we might be able to change attitudes surrounding not only this law, but human rights as a whole.
Sophia Topper
The Silhouette
The First Year Council could be great. At least, it’s a great time for the five first years who get to blow through $4000 with minimal interference from the MSU, and minimal notice from the students who fund it. That would be you, by the way—15 cents of your 122.61$ Student Organization Fee goes to the FYC to do… something.
What the FYC is about is unclear to even its members, who gave a vast variety of answers to my every inquiry. Alexander Coomes, last year’s chair, claimed: “No one will ever seriously change the first year experience from this council.” They have had several successful events, for instance, their club nights were successful enough to recoup their output. This, however, simply makes the rest of the spending more puzzling. The council also hosted a movie night, but the proof is in the popcorn—three out of four enormous boxes linger uneaten in FYC’s meeting room.
The annual FYC survey occurred as well, though we haven’t received the results. None of the councillors I asked could say what would be done with the results if they existed, or explain why the survey needed to be annual - surely the needs of first years do not change that much from year to year. Perhaps this is to inform the advocacy that supposedly occurs. David Campbell, President of the MSU, said that the “FYC is a fantastic venue for first years to advocate on behalf of their peers,” but again none of the four members I spoke could describe any advocacy done, or even ideas for what advocacy could occur. Dmitri Dobrov, who held the advocacy portfolio, could not be reached for comment at the time this article was published.
In the words of Alexander Coomes, former chair, “We are a social club. Sometimes we pretend that we’re more, but we’re not.” This self-awareness is laudable, but also betrays the discouragement felt by some members.
“I think the council has great potential for something amazing, but I believe it really comes down to how much each individual on the council wants to commit and dedicate. The more effort and hard work that is put into the first year council will definitely reflect in the success and the experiences one will have,” said Yipeng Ge, Former Vice Chair.
Unfortunately, the FYC is plagued by resume-builders and MSU bubbleheads, who gleefully describe the personal benefits of the FYC while glossing over the benefits to the student body. During a conversation with one member, he pulled out his discount card not once, but twice, as well as regaling me with tales of using the room as his personal gaming sanctuary, saying it was “convenient to have a little bit of authority now and then.” Other members described to me the invaluable connections they made higher up in the MSU echelons, and the importance of the FYC on their resumes. “It’s the best value-to-workload ratio,” said an unnamed councillor. Coomes said, “You can put as much effort as you want to into it… if you mess up, no one’s really there to get mad.”
There is someone there though: me. And you should be mad too. $4000 is a lot of money for some lines on a few people’s resumes. But we can’t just blame them, this is on us too. The fact is, we get who we elect, and what we demand. The FYC started a first year street team, which met twice and fizzled out. A night in Bridges to discuss the first year experience which was mostly attended by friends of the exec. And that isn’t their fault - it’s ours. If we want more than just some club nights and some flops, then we need to elect people who will give it to us. And while it’s easy to blame the election protocols, where five dollars will buy forgiveness for even the most blatant of abuses, we’re still the ones (not) voting. As Coomes says, “If the idealists don’t step up, the cynics take over.”
