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YOUTH ARE AWESOME

Youth Are Awesome, commonly referred to as YAA, is a blog written by youth for youth. YAA provides the youth of Calgary a place to amplify their voices and perspectives on what is happening around them. Youth Are Awesome is a program of Youth Central.

Any views or opinions expressed on this blog belong solely to the author and do not represent those of people or organizations that the blog may be associated with, unless explicitly stated. All content is for informational purposes only.

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How to not Procrastinate

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Procrastination leads to an unproductive lifestyle that builds bad habits. It is bane for being efficient and growing. It holds us back from achieving our goals and propelling forward. Here are some tips to fight procrastination and unproductivity.

1. Identify the Problem

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Acknowledge what it is that is preventing you from being productive and be specific. Being particular will provide you with a more clear path to fighting torpor. Without knowing this, you’ll won’t be able to stop the negative behavioural patterns. These bad habits will turn into a daily routine that lead you to squander additional time. When issues like these are addressed, it is easier to stop them from reoccurring.

2. Have Goals

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If you have a schedule or a planner of some sort, it will help you to keep track of things you need to get done. This may be difficult to get into especially if you get  easily distracted. The key is to start small. If you usually start studying at 9:00 P.M at night, the next time you could start studying would be at 8:50 P.M. This a gradual and slow process that will lead you to your end objective. If you endeavour to achieve everything at once, you’ll get discouraged.

3. Reminders

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There are lots of different things that could potentially help you remember what you should be doing and staying on track, so get creative. If you need to study, put your textbook by your laptop or in plain sight so it reminds you to study. Set alarms on your phone or reminders to help trigger you to start being productive. Get rid of junk foods in your house if you want to start eating healthier. These are a couple of examples that might work for some of you, but try different things and see what works best.

4. Acknowledgement

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Be proud of what you have achieved. Over time, you’ll be able to see what progress you’ve gone through and your growth. The bad habits that you once were doing turned into positive ones. Seeing the change you’ve gone through can become an incentive for achieving more great things.

5. Reward

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Rewards are beneficial because it encourages you to remain motivated and work harder. This can be giving yourself breaks. If you’ve been studying for the past week for a test, having a day of relaxation is not only good for your mind, but it is also something to look forward to. If you’ve been trying to read a book, have a piece of candy every chapter to help you to continue reading. Whatever it is, remunerate yourself for the goods things you’ve done.


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FuturFund x Credit Education Week Canada Essay Contest

Have you ever made a dumb money decision? Maybe you made a purchase that didn’t last long enough to justify the price. Maybe poor budgeting lead to some poor balance in your finances. Maybe you haven’t even paid attention to your money at all. No matter your financial missteps, grade 12 students in Canada are invited to disclose the dumbest thing they did with their money and what they learned from it in an essay contest by Credit Education Week Canada for a chance to win a $5000 scholarship.

The contest runs from September 4 to October 9, 2018. To enter, write an essay of 900 to 1000 words. The essays will be judged based on five categories: funniness, creativity, knowledge of savings and money management, organization, and grammar/spelling/punctuation. Click here for full contest rules. The top twenty essays will receive prizes ranging from $1000 to $5000.

This year, FuturFund is helping promote this contest. FuturFund is a youth-run, registered not-for-profit organization that runs some of the biggest financial literacy youth events in Canada. Their goal is to instill financial literacy in high school students.

 

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The Significance of Striving to Achieve Personal Goals

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Every learner is told at an early age to set personal goals for themselves. They are told that the life they wish to live is solely based on their decisions and choices they make, and to make the right choices for themselves they must strive to achieve the things they want in life. In other words, it is extremely important to strive to achieve personal goals in order to create a pathway in life that they wish to walk through, and not one that is based on poor planning. However, they are told to set goals for themselves so often that the real value is overlooked. If the true worth of aspirations is deeply looked into, the meaning behind why pursuing goals is stressed can be clearly understood. Striving to successfully fulfill personal goals helps one in telling them what they truly want, help propel them forward in difficult times, and hold them accountable for failure. When one strives to achieve a goal, they are never left without a gain, and even if it seems as though one has not acquired anything, the rare skill of self-reflection, as well as the, seldom felt surge of motivation is always the result of pursuing an objective.

How often is it that a person wonders where their true happiness lies, believing that a fancy title with a fortune will complete that empty hole in their heart, only to find that the hole has only enlarged? This common mistake comes from the deprivation of self-reflection. When one does not reflect on their lives and find out their inner desires and what they truly want, compulsive decisions are made while supposing that the decision they made is what they essentially want. However it is very rare that it is indeed what they desire, and it only results in more dissatisfaction. Setting goals for oneself is a result of self-reflection when one thinks about what they really long for, they automatically make a goal for themselves and aspire to reach it. As they begin to strive to reach their goal, they are constantly self-reflecting and asking themselves if what they are reaching for is what they actually want. By constantly re-assessing one’s goals, they gain the benefit of introspection and self-reflection, both of which are crucial to making the right decisions and choices to create a life one wants.

Many have noticed the trend that when they want to achieve something, they work hard for a while, but then their motivation begins to wane. This is because of poor planning and the wrong insight. A proper goal comes with a plan on how to achieve it, and it also comes with the understanding that one must achieve the goal, and that they must work hard to overcome the obstacles and not back down when a hardship arises. The main reason that motivation wanes is that a person encounters a difficulty, and they feel that they are not able to continue. However, having a goal written down with a set date for accomplishment gives one something to work hard form despite the inevitable struggles. A goal is not something one just throws in the towel after they find themselves in a hard situation, it is an external representation of one’s inner desires. Desires are what people really want, and it automatically gives one the motivation to continue; a goal is a constant reminder of what one needs to accomplish. Motivation is the key to moving forward, and striving to reach a goal a person wants teaches them motivation, which does nothing but helps them in accomplishing it.

An important aspect of self-improvement is learning from one’s mistakes and always trying to exceed others and well as their own standards. A goal always includes a specific date on which one has acquired a certain amount of whatever they wished to accomplish. It is like a deadline for their own assignment. If a student does not hand in their work on the day it was due, they have to suffer consequences. However, if the teacher gave no deadline, why should the student be punished for not handing in his or her work? There is no punishment, however, there is also no gain. Without goals, one may only think of what they want, however, if they do not set a goal to achieve what they want, a month or even years later they will not get what they want because they never strived to achieve it. Goals give a person the accountability for failure. When one sets a goal for themselves to accomplish something in a given time, and they do not fulfill that goal, they are responsible for not fulfilling it. If they had not set a goal, they would have never achieved it. Setting goals not only gives one the liability for their actions, but it also strengthens their character in the sense that they try to improve themselves and work harder to achieve what they want.

Setting goals are one thing, and striving to achieve them is another thing. Setting goals is a result of self-reflection, however attempting to achieve them reinforces this skill because one is frequently contemplating on how much they wish to still pursue their goal. Striving to achieve goals also gives a person the motivation to continue chasing their ambitions, because goals reflect what a person really wants and one wishes to acquire what they want despite the struggles. Goals also give one a sense of self-improvement because they feel the need to persevere in order to accomplish their goals without fail. These are the main reasons why striving to achieve one’s goals is important and shows the true value of goals that are often ignored.

Here is a talk on how to expand the scope of your ability to reach even the most impossible-seeming goals:

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A Tardigrade: The Most Durable Animal on the Planet

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A Tardigrade: The Most Durable Animal on the Planet

A tardigrade, also sometimes known as the water bear, is one the most durable creatures ever discovered, although they look like a chubby, 8-legged gummy bear. Their legs each have 4-8 claws that resemble the claws of a bear. This is why they have earned the name ‘Water Bear’ but they are also known by the name ‘Moss Piglet’ because they are also found in moss.

 

Although they are only around 0.5 millimeters long, they can survive extreme conditions. For example, it can survive at 151 degrees Celsius, which is way above the boiling point of water. They can survive in the vacuum of space, and can also tolerate temperatures as cold as 272 degrees Celsius, which is only marginally above absolute zero! These micro animals can survive a pressure of over 6000 atmospheres, which is nearly 6 times the pressure of water in the deepest ocean trench, Mariana’s trench, and can go decades without food or water!

In case you are not satisfied yet, even if you expose them to extreme radiations and they will come out victorious. Scientists have found out that the lethal dose of gamma rays to kill tardigrades is 5,000 Gy while the lethal dose of heavy ions is 6,200 Gy. For humans, 5-10 Gy is lethal.

These extraordinary capabilities of tardigrades come from their ability to halt all their metabolic activities completely. This is known as cryptobiosis and when a tardigrade gets into a cryptobiotic state, it is known as ‘tun.’ When a tardigrade enters cryptobiosis, it loses more than 95% of the water stored in itself, essentially, dehydrating itself. In this state, the water bear creates different proteins and sugars that help protect its cells. Once these cell protectants are synthesized, the water bear reduces, and at times suspends, its metabolism.

Scientists have immersed them in liquid helium, pure alcohol, hydrogen sulfide, and even exposed them to deadly radiation. However, when removed from these hostile environments, they simply emerge from their cryptobiotic state, rehydrate themselves, and amble away on their four pairs of stubby claw-tipped legs, completely unharmed.

Scientists are now trying to find out whether tardigrades use the tun state to survive other stresses. If we can understand how they stabilize their sensitive biological molecules, perhaps, we could use this knowledge to develop many new technologies, such as stress-tolerant crops that can cope with the Earth’s changing climate. By studying how tardigrades can survive the vacuum of space, we can learn more about the limits of life, and how to safeguard astronauts. Tardigrades can even answer a critical question: can life exist on a planet far less hospitable than our own? These are just some ideas if we do further research into this incredible species.

 

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Items You Need In Your Backpack For Back to School

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As the school year rolls around, it is important to have the essentials for back to school. Heres everything you need in your backpack to be prepared for the school year. Do you have everything?

 

1. Binders

Having binders to store loose papers, homework and assignments will help you to stay on top of your work. By having these organized in binders, it will make it easier to find and keep track of what needs to be done.

 

2. Notebooks

Notebooks are a perfect way of storing information. You will find that writing things down rather than typing things up on a laptop, will help you to retain information much better. You will find that the information binds to your memory.

 

3. Pencils and Pens

This one is pretty self-explanatory, you need something to write with. I would recommend writing in pencil when taking notes but I like to keep pens because I  rewrite my notes by using colourful pens.

 

4. Highlighters

Highlighters are always handy especially when you need to highlight any key topics that were emphasized by your teacher. This will ensure that you understand anything important for your tests and quizzes.

 

5. Pencil Case

It is easy to lose your pens and pencils at the bottom of your backpack but having a pencil case will you help you to keep track of them in the same place.

 

6. Planner

This is a must have for the school year. I use this for writing my schedule, deadlines, knowing when my tests are, and my todo list. Having a planner allows me to complete everything on time and not miss anything. This benefits me on my busiest days when I need to stay organized and balance school work and extracurriculars.

 

7. Lip Balm

Living in an area where the weather changes from super dry and hot to freezing cold, having lip balm will save our lips from getting cracked and bleeding.

 

8. Hand Lotion

Just like our lips, we need to rehydrate our skin when they get cracked and dry.

 

9. Snacks

You may be running late to class and didn’t have time to have breakfast or maybe you get hungry during the middle of class ( I can’t be the only one), having that snack will ensure to ebb your hunger and staying focused in class.

 

10. Water Bottle

Staying hydrated during the day is important for your body to stay healthy and to function throughout the day.

 

11. Hand Sanitizer

Germs are everywhere; doors handles, railings, desks, seats…

 

12. Hair Ties/ Bobby Pins

You always need these during sporadic moments when you want your hair out of your face and you don’t have any, keep extras in your bag and stay prepared for anything.

 

13. Gum/ Mints

Need to quickly freshen your breath, these are imperative in all situations.

These are also good to have because having peppermint stimulates a part of your brain that allows you to focus better and makes you feel more awake.

 

14. Tissues

Teachers don’t always have these in their classrooms but they are pragmatic whether you need them to blow your nose from the cold weather, have a cry from an exam or you need to clean something up, it is useful to have these on you.

 


 

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Shot on iPhone 8

Adventures in Chicago

 

“Hallway of Skyscrapers”

“There are two seasons in Chicago: winter and construction”

“Glass giants”

“Look up, stare, and dream”

“Calder Red – The Flamingo”

“Millenium Park”

“Patriotic and loyal”

“AVP Beach Volleyball Championships”

“Mall Illusions”

“Kaleidoscope Elevators”

“Get off at Harlem stop”

“Claude Monet’s Water Lily Pond”

“New perspectives”

“Going old-school”

“Underground Rainbow”

“A Hint of Nature”

“R.I.P. John McCain”

 

 

How the Legalization of Prostitution isn’t Always Empowering

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Often referred to as the “world’s oldest profession,” prostitution has existed in society for thousands of years. In recent years, many countries have decriminalized sex-work in an attempt to improve the health and safety of prostitutes. Since 2014, Canada has legalized the selling of sex, but criminalized the purchasing or “obtain[ing] for consideration… the sexual services of a person.” In New Zealand, sex-work has been legal since 2003. The brothels are even run under public health and employment laws. Switzerland, which has regulated prostitution since 1942, is one of eight European countries that have legalized sex-work to some extent. The Netherlands, another European country to legalize sex-work, made prostitution a legal profession in 1988. However, for many countries like Bangladesh, sex-workers are treated as criminals, and many laws create an atmosphere that restricts prostitution, therefore harming the sex-workers. Regardless, sex-work is still completely legal in Bangladesh.

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In recent years, there has been increased recognition for the rights of sex workers

Especially in western society, many advocacy groups have encouraged sex-work as a tool for empowerment, increased safety, and destigmatization of sexuality. Often, sex-work is a means for marginalized, suppressed people to overcome socioeconomic disadvantages. Through legalization, many advocate groups believe that this empowerment will no longer have to come at a risk of safety. Countries yet to decriminalize sex-work struggle with forced prostitution, increased transmission of STD’s, and non-consensual sex. Aside from using sex-work as a tool to overcome social and economic suppression, many believe that it will normalize female sexuality, and further empower the expression of femininity.

Many feminists view prostitution in a way that is is very unique: it just works. Therefore, it isn’t inherently harmful to women, and when the sex-worker is accepted and protected, it can be beneficial to women. Truthfully, women who aren’t degraded or forced into the field enjoy the work as they can express their sexuality. As well, prostitution can be used to explore sexuality that is currently restricted by societally “normal” relationships. Often what restricts the empowerment of women and sexuality through prostitution, is a societal agreement on morals inspired by puritan ideals.

A plethora of people believes that the criminalization of sex restricts the rights of each person to make informed decisions on their body. Other feminists recognize that prostitution can be viewed as a misogynistic practice that puts male ownership over female bodies. This is made abundantly clear considering that a synonym of a prostitute is the unreasonably white slave. However, in areas where the prostitute can choose their clients and deny service, the seller is in control over the buyer. Further, the selling of sex isn’t the selling of oneself, rather it is the selling of sexuality; in this same way, managers for example are using and selling their leadership abilities to do a job.

Considering that sex-work isn’t inherently oppressive, many have called for conditions that allow for women to benefit through this occupation. Firstly, a strict difference needs to be set between forced sex-work or sex trafficking and voluntary sex work. Non-consensual sex-work must be completely eradicated in order to ensure the safety of those sex-workers who chose the profession. As well, health and safety must be a top priority for legally run brothels. Following labour laws, allowing unionization, and educating workers on STD’s and sexual risks, is important to maintain quality of life for sex-workers. Finally, even in places where sex work is legal, people of colour are discriminated against, causing these sex-workers to be treated unfairly, receive limited hours, and be ignored for positions of prestige. Anti-discriminatory laws must be commonplace, not only for sex-work, but across all professions in society. Furthermore, areas of sex-work desperately require education and destigmatization. Viewing this profession as illegitimate and dirty is scrutinizing and disrespects those who have chosen prostitution as a means of self-expression. Kelly Bell, an author for Inquire Journal recognizes the potential profit of prostitution saying,

My argument is that prostitution should be made legal, sex workers offered the same rights and respect as workers in any other field, and that by doing this sex work can become something that benefits women and humanity in general.


When this gender-equal argument for the legalization of prostitution is put into practice, there are many benefits. Especially in European countries, sex-workers have benefited from the legalization and regulation of their practice. In the Netherlands, Amsterdam’s Red Light District contains around 8,000 active prostitutes. Prostitution has been legal in the Netherlands since the 1800s, but it became a legal profession in 1988. Now that the job is legal, prostitutes are awarded the same basic rights as other workers. Meaning, that they pay taxes, they receive health insurance, they are eligible for unemployment benefits, they work in unions, and they can receive unlimited STI checks. The Red Light District is further regulated by police, who have increased patrol in the area. In brothels, panic buttons are situated to deal with unruly clients and considering that sex-workers are apart of the Dutch workforce, prostitutes are in better positions to come forward with sexual assault allegations.

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The Red Light District in Amsterdam

Intense regulation of sex-work over the years has also combatted against sex trafficking, giving the workers further security. In a 2012 study from Harvard, it was found that,

Countries with legalized prostitution are associated with higher human trafficking inflows than countries where prostitution is prohibited.

This was made abundantly clear in the Netherlands in 2008 when six people were sentenced to seven years for the human trafficking of 100 female victims. A year later, two Nigerian men were convicted for smuggling 140 women from Nigeria to the Netherlands. However, through further regulation, human trafficking has become less of a concern for sex-workers. Amsterdam has allowed sex-workers to open their own brothels through a project named My Red Light, in an attempt to further empower and provide independence for the workers. A prostitute involved explained to the Guardian,

Everything in this project, from the statutes to the decoration of the rooms, is thought out by sex workers.

This step forward has allowed the men and women to determine their own rental terms and working hours. Although Amsterdam and Europe still require further regulation to improve the conditions of the industry on a broader scale, through current policies and initiatives, the sex-workers of the Red Light District have experienced better working conditions, leading to personal empowerment and a truthful expression of their unique sexuality.


Ideally, by keeping gender equality and worker’s rights in mind, countries that legalize prostitution can help combat sex trafficking and help those who voluntarily work in the industry stay safe, professional, and empowered. However, many countries that don’t have the same conditions as European countries like the Netherlands, create an unsafe environment for the worker’s, even though it is legal. Bangladesh, for example, has legalized prostitution, but lack of gender equality, representation in the government, and societal respect for the workers has unfortunately seen human traffickers utilize the decriminalization to make money through forced prostitution. The Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights recognizes this difference between the Netherlands for example, and Bangladesh explaining,

Women in sex work are often looked at as ‘criminals’ even when Bangladesh Penal Code does not criminalize sex work but there is a wide range of laws that create an atmosphere, which criminalizes sex work and thus the sex worker.

Bangladesh has as many as 100 000 sex-workers, and one of the largest brothels in the world, Daulatdia, is compared to a small city, housing over 1 300 workers. The stories of these 100 000 women are polar opposites to the experiences of sex-workers in countries like the Netherlands; instead of receiving support from the government that allows the industry to succeed safely, sex-workers in Bangladesh are disregarded and mistreated, trapped in a life of drugs and slavery.

In Bangladesh, child marriage is legal, and a recent bill from 2017 reduced the minimum marital age to zero. This leaves many women susceptible to abuse from their husbands and often rapists. Sometimes, husbands force their wives into sex-work for money. Another common experience of sex-workers in Bangladesh is if the husband dies, many women turn to brothels to survive. Women with dead husbands are ostracized from society due to the fact that they are no longer virgins. Aside from marriage, many women are kidnapped and forced into brothels. Countless women inside the brothels of Bangladesh are even unsure of their age.

Vice reported on the experiences of prostitutes in Bangladesh, highlighting Anupa, a woman kidnapped into sex-work for the mega-brothel Dautladia. She has no idea how old she is after she was sold by a broker for $400. To pay of her “debt,” she is forced to have sex with multiple clients per day. Although she doesn’t know her age, she isn’t an adult. To overcome that, she is fed steroids used to plump up cows, leaving her unrecognizable to herself.

After taking the pill, whatever beauty I had is gone now. My skin is ruined and my figure is not like before. I am suffering a lot for this. I am not like before.

Dautladia is Bangladesh’s largest and oldest brothel, built under British colonial rule. It is owned by a local politician’s family, who succeeds off of the booming business. Dautladia is so large, it acts as a small town for the sex-workers inside. There’s beauty salons, markets, places to gamble, and no incentive for the women to leave; they couldn’t even if they wanted to.

Brokers, known as dalals, bring the girls to the brothels and sell them. They promise a better life for these girls who are abandoned by their family, spouse, or left begging after their carer dies. A dalal who refused to share his name explained,

We roam around the streets in the evening. We talk to the girls for a while. We tell them there’s a better place than this, let us take you there. We tell them there is a place where you can work more safely. This is how we bring them to the brothel. Then the girls get trapped by the madams.

Underage girls like Anupa are often forced to take steroids to appear grown up. Their pimps feed them highly addictive steroid used by over 90% of the young girls in Dautladia to make them appear developed and “healthier.” Pharmacists sell these steroids inside the brothel for less than a dollar. The drug can cause bone and kidney damage, possibly leading to death. Regardless, a pharmacist explains,

It sells. Girls get it, box after box. There’s a lot more in other shops.

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Bangladesh sex-workers are essentially treated like cattle


UN reported that hundreds of thousands visit sex-workers every day. The industry is completely unregulated by the government. As a consequence of this, pedophiles, abusers, and drug addicts take advantage of the industry. Karim, a customer of Dautladia for many years, says he enjoys having sex with little girls. He even encourages them to do drugs like Yaba (a methamphetamine) with him, explaining that,

It makes me last longer. Instead of 5 minutes, I can go on for 10 minutes when I have sex.

It is illegal for anyone under 18 to work in prostitution, but of the 200 000 sex-workers in Bangladesh, most of them are teenagers. Thousands of teenagers work in the industry through force and to survive. Men come to the brothels to escape a society where it is taboo to have sex before marriage and illegal to gamble. However, that escape comes at an extreme mental and physical cost for the women enslaved in the brothels and forced to have sex with men often more than twice their age.


A multitude of the sex-workers working in brothels like Dautladia are second or third generation prostitutes, in certain cases, descendants from women working under British rule. The future’s of these children are desperate, but non-governmental organizations have been attempting to provide an education that will allow these susceptible children to follow a better path in life. There are six “second chance” schools near Dautladia, run by the Bangladesh Rural Advancement Committee. There are 38 000 primary schools in Bangladesh for vulnerable children that have dropped out of formal education or never entered, to begin with. Primary education is free in government schools, but the closest one to Dautladia is a half an hour walk away. BRAC isn’t the only NGO with schools near Dautladia, but it is the only one that provides free primary education like government schools. For the most part, the children of the sex-workers are exactly like the other kids at school, other than being often a little more aggressive and bold than the other pupils.

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Women in Dautladia

A teacher at one of the BRAC schools, Salma Akter, explains that the children are approaching a conjuncture,

The sons leave when they’re about 14, to find work and go on their own way. Many of the girls go into their mother’s profession but not all of them; more of them are studying and moving on.

Akter has been teaching at the school for nine years.

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BRAC school students

Equipped with education, there’s hope that the sons and daughters of sex-workers will lead a better path. A foster mother outside the school confirms a belief held by many,

So what if their mother is doing dirty work? A kid is a kid. Everyone’s not equal but our kids can be.


Evidently, sex-work in the Netherlands, for example, is a total opposite to the experience of prostitutes in developing countries like Bangladesh. Even though prostitution has been decriminalized in both countries, the attitudes of society and the government are extremely different, causing the sex-workers in Bangladesh to suffer due to a lack of protective policy. Sex-workers in Bangladesh suffer extreme abuse, often being forced into the industry, even when they are underage and being encouraged to take drugs to combat the fact that they are children. A huge contributor to the mistreatment and ignorance of sex-workers is the deep-rooted sexism in Bangladesh government and society. On all levels of government, Bangladesh routinely experiences corruption that harms the quality of life of all Bangladeshi citizens, especially marginalized groups. Further, Bangladesh as a civil society, continually practices son preference, a belief, and practice where baby girls are killed due to the fact that the family wanted a son. Also known as female infanticide, the fact that 93% of families viewed girls as a “problem,” leads to rampant mistreatment of women, regardless of their age. The fact that child marriage is also legal, causes an extreme amount of women to experience abuse and sexism first hand.

Contrarily, European countries like the Netherlands hold women to a much higher value. The government is also much less corrupt. Considering this, sex-workers in the Netherlands have the government and much of society advocating for their safety and protection. This allows those working in the sex industry to feel pride and empowerment from their career of choice. For most women in Bangladesh, sex-work is not their career of choice. Whether they were sex-trafficked into the industry or forced by the hands of poverty and ostracization, the women in brothels like Dautladia are far from satisfied or safe.

Potentially, the legalization of prostitution can be successful and liberating. It can allow women to express themselves sexually and creatively in a way that respects their humanity and lifts them up. However, in the fight for legalization, one must remember that a majority of women don’t experience the privilege of gender equality. Of course, every country has room to improve in regards to gender equality and equality in general, but compared to countries like Bangladesh, the Netherlands, for example, is essentially equal. For sex-workers in the Red Light District in Amsterdam, sex-work is safe, advocated for, and liberating. Unfortunately, the women of Bangladesh who are forced into the industry as children treated like cattle, and disregarded by the government and society as a whole, not only based on their work but also their gender, the sex industry is far from empowering.


Sources-

Inquiries Journal

Scoop Whoop

The Globe And Mail

Pro Con

Lad Bible

Independent

GAN

The Daily Star

Photos-

Cover Photo

Rally

Red Light District 

Bangladeshi Women

Women in Dautladia

BRAC Students


A Note form the Author:

Regardless of anyone’s personal political affiliation, I think the comparison between the sex industry in the Netherlands and Bangladesh is extremely important. As a Canadian, I am privileged to live in a country without a corrupt government. In Canada, we have a government who fights for the protection and satisfaction of its citizens, including marginalized groups like women. Due to this fact, we experience a coveted quality of life that we often take for granted. Personally, I believe that sex work should be legalized. I think the image of sex has been twisted in an ugly way, and I personally don’t see anything wrong with the selling of sex. I also believe that each individual person should be able to choose how to live their own life, free from undeserved judgment, particularly when their way of life doesn’t harm or affect others. However, after researching the negative effects of the decriminalization of prostitution in Bangladesh, I have realized that although legalization of sex-work can be empowering in privileged countries with government support and a progressive society, that isn’t the case for many countries around the world. Therefore, the legalization of sex-work isn’t always beneficial. Regardless of my own personal views on sex-work and aside from the sex-work example in general, I believe this comparison highlights the opportunities countries like Canada, the Netherlands, and many more have. Based off of where we are born, we, unfortunately, receive unequal potential. There is no founded reason that for example, women in the Netherlands should benefit more from the legalization of sex-work than women in Bangladesh, it is strictly based on the fact that they were born into different countries with vastly different government and societies. As a Canadian, I received a desired quality of life solely because I was born in Canada. The opportunities we receive at birth should drive us to not only continue to improve our own society but use our privilege to advocate for countries like Bangladesh, bringing them up to the same standard we have. Of course, our advocation for developing countries shouldn’t overreach into assimilation. I believe it is important to keep countries unique, but there is also a standard of equality and opportunity that all humans deserve, regardless of where they’re born.

Skin Whitening In The Philippines

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Recently, I went on a trip to The Philippines and as much as I love it there I always tend to notice one thing – the striking supply of skin whitening products. In almost every store there’s always an entire section solely dedicated to whitening your skin. Even most of the skin products (ie. toners, moisturizers) will state that it has a whitening effect on the skin.

When I first arrived in the Philippines I’m understandably a lighter skin tone because of the lack of sun we can get in Canada. Without a fail, I get stares from people. As a kid I assumed I looked like a tourist – but as I grew older I realized it was because my skin wasn’t as dark as everyone else. As the trip goes by and I spend more time in the sun and undoubtedly tan, the stares stop. Filipinos have always had a desire to have a whiter skin complexion. Consequently, you’re treated differently by society. Filipinos have become so accustomed to glorifying the idea that if you’re whiter than most, not only are you more attractive, you’re of a higher social class.

How did this start? 

The Spanish Colonial Era was the period where the Spanish were taking over The Philippines. That is rumored to be the start of the preference for a whiter start, seeing as most labor workers would have darker skin due to sun exposure. As a result, if you weren’t tan, you were more valuable.  After The Spanish Colonial Era, The Philippines was colonized again by The United States and Japan, which further embedded the idea that the whiter you were, the better. Yet, colorism isn’t uncommon in Asia. Countries such as China, Taiwan, Malaysia, and South Korea.

Because the problem dates back so far into history, most Filipinos won’t see a problem with skin whitening. Whether they want to be lighter or darker is up to them. Nonetheless, the ads broadcasted on television consistently elucidates that to be more attractive to others, you have to be white. 

Filipinos view white skin as a privilege.  The deep-rooted white superiority complex instilled in The Philippines has gotten to a point that using skin whitening products is the norm – as people actively search out for these products to get whiter. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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More Short Stories To Read If You’re Bored

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The collection of my short stories live on.


Sunrise

I tossed another half-written letter in the garbage can by the wall. My bunkmate, Johnny, was still sound asleep on the bottom bunk, his bed sheets crumpled up at the foot of the bed. It was hot in Hawaii, even if it was winter. The air was humid, especially in our crowded living space. Somehow the United States Navy managed to fit about two dozen men into a single living-room sized cabin.

Our room was dimly lit, only about four or five windows to let in sunshine. I was lucky enough to sleep directly beneath one. It was ridiculously tiny, about the size of a record, but I shouldn’t complain. There were some men on this ship that slept in rooms with no windows at all. Besides, the porthole gave me the perfect amount of light to read and write right on my bed.

I picked up another blank piece of paper and started my letter over again. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but there was enough light outside, mainly artificial, to allow me to write. Picking up my worn out, two-inch-long wooden pencil, I began to jot down what I had been thinking the past week. I scrawled in my messy handwriting, things I knew my friends would make fun of if they ever heard me say out loud. Reaching the end of the page, I drew a heart and signed my name.

I stuffed the thin paper with a stack of cash from my pay into a browned envelope. I addressed it to Daisy Morley, 220 Vander St., Wichita, Kansas. Jumping off the bed, I grabbed the letters I had written for my family earlier in the week and decided to send them all out together. My undress white service uniform was hanging on a nearby hook, freshly washed. I wore it over the same undershirt and briefs I slept in the night before, carefully putting on my pants in a way that didn’t get it dirty. I wasn’t sure why I tried so hard, it was going to get filthy in no time; a consequence that came with living on the USS Arizona.

I slipped on my shoes and was about to head into town to the post office when I heard the rustle of a pillow, followed by an annoyed groan.

“Do you have to wake up this early every single day?” Johnny murmured from his bed. He was undressed and had his arms dangling on the floor. His dark brown hair was a mess of waves and the side of his face had imprints from the pillows. It was safe to say he was not a morning person. Johnny rolled onto his back and stretched, making a loud, obnoxious yawning noise. The other men replied with grunts and curses. Johnny just laughed and sat up, eyes still closed. He flashed a smile at me but ended up smiling at the wall.

“I’m over here,” I said, “open your eyes and maybe you’ll see.”

“The only person I’d wake up for this early is a pretty girl, which I’m sure you’re not,” he joked, but sat up and rubbed his eyes anyways.

“Johnny, you’re a pig.” I rolled my eyes at him and returned to running my Sunday morning errands, unsent mail in hand. I held it up for him to see, “you comin’?” Johnny took one last look in the mirror and fumbled around his bag for his own mail. He had four older sisters, each in different states than each other and their parents, and he had to write them all. Me with my two letters and Johnny with his five, we climbed out of our closet of a cabin and onto the deck of the USS Arizona.

The sun was rising, its orange rays already beginning to shine from the horizon line. Dark blue filled the sky, making it so that the stars were still visible even in the morning. Of course, they would soon be replaced by puffy white clouds when day broke. I’ve always heard Hawaii was beautiful, but no words could help you depict how breathtaking it was to physically be there. Standing in Pearl Harbor, gazing out at the miles and miles of vast open water mirroring the morning sky, you could almost forget that there was a war going on. The battleships floating dormant in the ocean did not seem like weapons of destruction in that moment, but rather decorations. Decorations for the ocean. You forgot about death, about Hitler, about fighting and started to focus on life and the beauty of nature. Johnny called me crazy for wanting to get up so early, but to witness a view like this, it was worth it. This was a landscape famous artists could only dream about painting. It was mesmerizing, I couldn’t look away. I got lost in the shades of peach and coral that faded away into turquoise, longing for the day when I could see this again with Daisy in my arms. It reminded me of her, the Hawaiian sun, its soft colours and the sense of joy I received from simply taking a glimpse at it. For a second the rest of the world slipped away and it was just me. I wished the sky always looked like this.

“Hey,” Johnny waved his hands in front of my face; he didn’t really understand art or beauty. His area of expertise included swooning girls and drinking. “Quit lookin’ at the sun when there’s a whole town of ladies right in front of us. Let’s go Wichita! I want to go before it gets busy.”

It was almost eight and the town was starting to become steeped with sailors and airmen. The postal office, however, was empty. I fanned out my mail and got them stamped, watching as the man behind the counter took my letters and placed them in a plastic bin.

On the other counter, Johnny searched furiously through his fat stack of handwritten letters, counting and recounting carefully. He cursed under his breath and spread them out. “I’m missing the one I wrote to Cathy. Damn girl just had to move to New York, didn’t she?” He propped one hand on his hip and rubbed his forehead with the other. “The place is about to get crowded soon and I really wanna send ‘em all out today.” He stared out the store window at the USS Arizona in the distance, contemplating something hard. “Okay… How about this, you mail these for me now while I run and go get Cathy’s letter.” He checked his watch and looked outside again. “I was on the track team in high school, I’ll be twenty minutes tops.” I clicked my tongue and checked my own watch. 7:45. It was Sunday morning, not like I had anything better to do with my time.

“Alright, pal,” I said, “Tell you what, I’ll pay for drinks tonight if you can make it back before eight.”

“You’re on Wichita!” With that Johnny sprinted out the door and down the street, turning back only once to wink at me. I admitted it, he was fast. A minute had past and I couldn’t even see him anymore he was so far.

I mailed his letters for him and walked down to the hospital by the beach, next to the postal office. There was a bench in front of the building, on the edge of the sand. It was hot from lying in the sun, but I sat on it anyways and lit a cigarette. I wasn’t a smoker before I enlisted, but I became one a few weeks in; Johnny taught me how. There were things you had to adjust to in the Navy, smoking being one of them. I didn’t necessarily enjoy it, but I’d grown so used to the habit that I did it whenever I could. It didn’t take the edge off of anything like it did for other guys. For me, it was nothing more than a pastime. Duty in Pearl Harbor was tedious.

A low rumbling sound tickled my ear as I threw the butt of my cigarette in the sand and stomped on it. I squinted through the sunlight and caught the silhouette of an airplane. What was the Air Corps doing so early? The townspeople seemed just as confused. Heads up towards the sky, we watched more planes fly by. Strange. I had never seen any planes like those before. A large red circle was painted onto the wings, that wasn’t the design on American ones.

Shop owners, doctors, Navy commanders, and nurses gathered in the street to watch the airshow. Those airplanes with the big red dots flew in perfect formation towards our Pearl Harbor. The air raid siren turned on, sounding like a forlorn whale. It wailed for the entire island. Nobody followed the air raid drills we had done so many times before, they stood and gazed at the seemingly majestic aircrafts. But all beautiful things have an ugly core.

The machine guns opened up on showered the concrete ground with bullets. A few people fell down, dead or injured I couldn’t tell, I was too busy diving for cover. It all happened so fast. I couldn’t fully process what was going on. I talked so much about wanting to be in the war, but finally having it knock on my front door, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to open it yet. It didn’t matter, war had no manners; it barged in anyway.

The plane looped around and shot down another street; sparing ours for now. My heart beat so fast I felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. My eyes were wide, my breathing hard and short. Beads of sweat dripped down the side of my face as I played the experience in my brain again. I had heard gunshots before but never like this, saying I was terrified was an understatement. My legs lost its balance, feeling like jelly. The ground around me was spinning as I managed to push myself off the ground. I walked like a drunk man, staggering and wobbling all over the place. Lightheaded, I stopped in my tracks to regroup myself. I couldn’t hear anything, except for a ringing and muffled voices.

“Get outta here sailor!” A store clerk yelled at me, breaking me out of my shocked daze. I didn’t know what to do, my heart pounded inside my chest. I never imagined the war this way, although I wasn’t sure what I expected instead. My father recollected tales from his time of service in the great war, but he could never depict the true terror of being fired upon or the sight of corpses. The sputtering of gun rounds could be heard loud and clear from the ground. I watched as the planes circled around the docks, by the ships, giving me a sick feeling in my gut.

Johnny.

I sprinted as fast as my feet could carry me, the Arizona slowly coming into sight. I leapt over shrubs and small stairs, lessening the distance in any way I could. Nearing the docks, I saw him on the deck, head turning left and right, watching people rush past him. Men in their underpants, toothbrush in mouth, dashed up from their cabins to see what the commotion was about.

Ready sailors ran to their posts, manning their stations, but Johnny stayed put in the middle of it all. Torpedo bombers flew past the Arizona, but only one turned back, flying slightly lower than the others. A cylindrical object emerged from the belly of the plane. It was difficult to make out what it was from the ground, but the fan-shaped end of it gave it away.

“Johnny!” I hollered, running faster than I ever did, my lungs burning. “Johnny! Get off the ship! Johnny!” The plane released its bomb, a direct hit on the USS Arizona. It broke through the deck, destroying the metal as it made its way down. Time stopped for just a moment, Johnny stared at me. I could not see his face from this far, but I could tell he was scared. “I’m coming! John–”

The explosion ringed in my ears. I wrapped my arms around my head for protection. It detonated from the lower level, splitting the ship in two. The deck arched up before breaking apart and letting loose a burst of fire which spread to the ship next to it. I watched as bodies launched into the air. The power of the blast knocked me off my feet and emitted a wave of scorching hot air. Black smoke erupted from the ship and shot strands of fire into the sky. Everything was ablaze.

Nobody was left on the Arizona.

It was pure horror. Corpses floated in the red water. The ocean was littered with them. Johnny no longer stood on the deck, for the deck was nonexistent. The fire swallowed him whole.

Screams echoed from the ship. Survivors were trapped within the iron walls of a sinking tomb. The scene I had so beautifully admired only two hours ago was now what I pictured hell to resemble. Men plunged into the sea in order to escape the fire. Some made it and swam to shore, but others didn’t get to hit the water.

Bombs dropped on every naval ship Pearl Harbor had to offer. Radar towers came crashing down, bringing as many sailors as it could. People flew in the air, limbs in unnatural positions like ragdolls.

My hat was long lost, my white uniform stained with smoke. My eyes teared from the fumes and the thought of my dead friends. The war was here and it didn’t wait, I had to do something. Running beside the burning ship, I watched as a sailor I knew attempt to lift a shut hatch. I couldn’t recall his name, but I recognized him, he was the beefy guy with the one-year-old daughter waiting for him at home. His muscles tightened as he turned the dog and raised the hatch as much as he could before his face turned red and was forced to stop. The sliver of opening left enough space for a dozen prying hands to reach out. They clawed for freedom with no avail.

The muffled sound of plane engines filled the skies again, airplane shadows flying over me. They open fired on the docks, splintering the wood and denting the already wrecked Arizona. The strong fellow was shot in the chest and fell with a thud, rolling off the ship and into the saltwater. He bobbed above the surface, but his enormous muscular arms pulled him under. Like that, entire lives were changed within a matter of seconds. I felt like I was drowning with them, no air entered my lungs. My mouth was dry, body aching. I observed my surrounding devastation. It looked like the end of the world.

A plane dove from the sky and seemed to be flying right for me like it was a vulture and I its prey. Bullets chased me to the end of the docks; only a couple more feet until the boards came to a stop. I dove headfirst into the bloodstained ocean, narrowly escaping towards safety. The plane flew back up to its regular altitude and fired on someone else. Floating in the ice cold water, I felt weak. I couldn’t keep my head above the surface. In reality, I wasn’t safe at all.

My lower back hurt and my head pounded. I couldn’t tread water anymore; my legs refused to move. I reached for the source of the pain and felt a hole in my flesh, the warmth of my blood seeping out of it and mixing with the freezing seawater. They got me. The war got me. Perhaps I wasn’t so ready after all.

The world was getting dimmer and blurrier. I swallowed one last gulp of air before the weight of my immobile body dragged me down. The sun still shined through the smoke, its glare piercing into the water like the arms of an angel, reaching to pull me back up. But I was too far gone. I couldn’t be saved. The last bubbles of air escaped my mouth and made their way to the top, curving around the still bodies of men that were suspended in the ocean. I was cold, so cold. I extended my arms towards a world that began to fade away, the light getting darker and darker as I neared the bottom. I didn’t even realize I wasn’t breathing; my lungs didn’t burn despite the lack of oxygen in them. It was like they were trapped in a small box, incapable of expanding and letting in air. But none of it hurt; it seemed natural. Maybe they were too feeble to feel anything.

Before my eyes, all I could see was crinkled sunshine on the surface of the sea and my fallen friends sinking to the ocean floor. My eyelids grew heavy and I fought a failing battle to keep them open. Tired, I succumbed and let them shut. Blackness swarmed my sight and all I came to know disappeared.  My heart slowed to a stop, the last thump gentle and quiet. I felt myself slipping away, too weak to hold on.  I half expected my life replay in my mind, but no such thing happened. In that moment, I didn’t think about anything. I couldn’t bring myself to work my brain. I couldn’t remember a single thing, so I didn’t bother trying. I was learning to let go. A numbness hugged me, stealing my sense of touch.

Everything felt weightless.

I opened my eyes to the ocean and its azure blue. The sunshine was still there, although it seemed to get closer. Or maybe it was me who was moving. I looked down and saw my body, lying on a coral-covered rock. I didn’t move and somehow, I appeared peaceful. One arm rested over my ribs while the other was bent over my head like I was napping. My eyes were closed. I had said my goodbye to the world. I was ready now.

Around me were the transparent ghosts of sailors and pilots, all rising up with me. I recognized familiar faces among them; the beefy man with the daughter, tiny Frank, Bernie from Newark, Lieutenant Gordon. They all grinned at me, standing proud and tall while flying up towards the water surface. Proud to have lived, proud to have served. I saw Johnny there too, his whole body a glowing white and his uniform finally clean. He smiled at me and waved, then pointed at where we were going. The brightness was blinding but warm. We disappeared into the light.


Mr. Brown

**warning: this is kind of horrific with vivid and grotesque details, it might be disturbing to some people, read at your own caution**

We sat in silence around Lisa’s living room coffee table. Dried cucumber sandwiches collected two days worth of dust on their plates while cold peppermint tea began to make ring-shaped stains around the inside of the tea cups. The only noise that could be heard came from outside; people chattering and cars driving by in a habitual routine. The neighbours walked their dogs and laughed with each other about jokes I couldn’t hear.

Finally sitting in Lisa’s house on that grey wool couch she gushed so much about when she came to visit was not as glamorous as we had all imagined it to be. The so-called living room in Calderwood was dull. Leather couches that were too cold to sit on in short dresses filled up a large circular room. Though there were many windows, the bars on them never failed to remind us of where we were. Lisa was the first to be released from that horrid place and it would be three years before I left there too. In that time, five of our friends from the inside were let back into society–me, the very last when the institution overcrowded in 1964.

Lisa got married and divorced in those three years, but managed to visit us for weekly updates on her liberation. She took much pride in being the first of us to be declared sane again. She talked about getting her first job and how great her husband Jonathan was, then how stupid he was after he left her, but mostly about her wonderful house. It was a typical condo in the suburbs that was replete with furniture and home decor that was useless–like plastic display fruits and a meat grinder–but she always talked about that grey wool couch. She first saw it in an Ideal Home magazine while she was waiting for the nurse to bring her her pills and had her eyes on it ever since. Now, owning that couch, she thought of it as a symbol for what she had overcome, her mental illness and the institution, and refused to stop bragging about it. Though she was arrogant when sharing her stories, I took pleasure in hearing them. They gave me ideas of what to do when I got out myself.

When I did eventually walk free, I went back to live with my adoptive father at his funeral home and got a part-time job at a grocery store owned by a heavy, loathsome, middle-aged man named Joseph Brown. I didn’t like his face, how he always looked like he washed it with dirt, but no other employers in town wanted to hire a girl who was in a psychiatric hospital. I tolerated him because I needed the money, other than that, I despised the man. I often thought about what it would be like to slit his fat throat cutting him up, feeling that sensation rush through my body, pumping my veins. God, I missed that, but I had worked so hard to convince the staff at Calderwood to believe in my “recovery”, I wasn’t planning on going back anytime soon.

That night was supposed to be our first gathering as free people. We had all endured William Calderwood Mental Institution, some much longer than others, and deserved a celebration. Although I didn’t think we could ever become what the world considered normal and that our illnesses would never truly, completely go away, I did think we were better than we were before and that should be commemorated greatly. The whole thing was supposed to be a party.

It was not.

Lisa slouched in her armchair, her cheeks darkened by mascara and tears. She stared blankly at her knees and held her own hands, trying to calm down the rapid twitching of her fingers. She had been in that same position for hours, losing herself in her mess of thoughts. I didn’t know exactly what she was thinking, but I was sure it was similar to what we all thought. We were going to get caught.

It had been two days and no officer had shown up at our doorstep, but maybe it was too soon to assume anything. The police in this town were smart men, surely they’d come for us, if not today then tomorrow. The last forty-eight hours seemed like they did not happen. I felt like I was in a trance, or a dream. I remembered the smell of bleach, the frantic atmosphere, the loud weeping and of course, the blood. Oh, that wonderful, beautiful crimson. I felt like a fat kid seeing fresh baked cookies.

It happened in the kitchen. A large red stain was imprinted on the carpet where the living room and kitchen met. Kathleen and I scrubbed it until our arms were numb, but it refused to disappear. If anyone were to ask, we all agreed to say there was an incident with a can of tomato sauce.

I did most of the work, though I wasn’t even the one who committed the crime. It was Lisa and all she had done since then consisted of sulking in her chair and crying. Her cries were deafening and ugly, but her voice was worse. Her constant self-blame and whining was driving me crazy. I almost started to enjoy bringing the bones to the basement just to escape the noise for a minute.

“Rosaline,” she’d scream through her tears, “I did it! It was me! They’re going to send me to jail!” I told her to shut up. The neighbours could overhear.

Poor Bethany cried too, but I didn’t mind her so much. She didn’t help clean up either, but I told her it was okay. She was an innocent child, only eighteen years old. She wasn’t ready to face the horrors of the real world and its sick people like Mr. Brown.

We all watched as Lisa struck him in the chest with the same knife she used to prepare our cucumber sandwiches. She was a paranoid and jittery woman. Severe panic disorder, I think she used to have. Mr. Brown was walking behind her to the washroom when his round stomach accidentally grazed her behind. At that moment, I knew Mr. Brown regretted that he had not tried to lose weight before. It was his fatness that killed him.

Lisa had misinterpreted the situation. She thought the same thing that happened to Bethany was going to happen to her, in her own home, right in her kitchen. She picked up her knife, turned around and raised it high. Under the incandescent light, the blade shined like a sword. A sword with bread crumbs and streaks of cucumber water, that is. I had never seen Lisa so furious. She plunged the cutting tool straight into Mr. Brown’s heart and screamed. She was crazed and I was almost proud. She stabbed him again, and again, and again, and again. There was almost a beauty to it, the manner of how the blood sprayed from his chest and his neck. He was like a fountain statue, spitting out red water. It splattered on the walls, the ceiling, the refrigerator and all over Lisa. Mr. Brown died in that kitchen, in front of all of us.

Lisa came and wept in our arms after seeing what she had done. Everyone was horrified and shocked, but I was merely surprised. I always thought I would be the first to murder someone, since I dreamed about it most. But Lisa? I couldn’t have imagined it. She has too many feelings.

Nancy had to draw her bath and help her wash off the blood like she was a child incapable of bathing herself. She was shaking the whole time and never stopped. Even now, two days later, she continued to tremble in the safety of her red leather armchair. We cleaned her kitchen, her carpet and her knife. She needed to relax, it was not a big deal. It was only murder. Besides, it was her fault. She invited Mr. Brown in hopes of scaring him to leave Bethany alone, she wanted to cut the cucumber sandwiches and she was the one who slashed his throat and tore up his chest with a knife. Stupid woman.

We worked all night to cover Lisa’s mess. In the morning, with Mr. Brown rolled up in rugs in the living room; I shared with the rest an arrangement I thought up during the night when everyone was asleep. I unravelled Mr. Brown and stared at him under the moonlight for a long time before realizing how much he resembled a pig. That’s when I got the idea.

It was the second day after our bloody night, Mrs. Brown would’ve reported her missing husband to the sheriff. There were a thousand people in this town. The police would knock on our door soon and ask to come inside. No one had a better proposal.

“It is perfectly reasonable,” I argued to my friends, “meat is meat.” They fired their thoughts at me and I held them off.

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

“Our murder is illegal.”

“It’s unethical.”

“What is these days?”

“What about the bones?”

“We can bury them.”

“The thought of it makes me sick.”

“Think, you imbeciles, they cannot prove Lisa is a murderer with no body to be found.” They scoffed at me and called me insane. It was ironic, had they forgotten where we had all met?

“The more time you waste with your insensible chatter, the closer the police are getting. Would you like to see Lisa rot in jail?” I said flatly. Lisa screamed and flung herself off of the chair, curling into a ball on the ground and sobbing, repeating the words “don’t let them take me”.

“Besides,” I continued and knelt down beside Mr. Brown’s corpse, “we’d join her in jail too, for being accomplices, maybe we’ll even be sent off to Calderwood again.” Linda shifted in her seat, shuttering and smoothing out non-existent wrinkled on her dress. Nancy bit her lip and dug her fingernails into her forehead, her old habits resurfacing like an unwelcome friend. I saw each and everyone of them break for just a second, really considering the reality of our situation. They began to see it the way I did after a prolonged and tedious dispute. They knew I was right.

“Well, I suppose they do it in some native tribes in Africa and Asia, I read it in my brother’s National Geographic magazine,” Brenda said. “And there’s no possible way for them to find the body after.” Brenda always supported me, I loved that schizophrenic. Ex-schizophrenic that is. I kept forgetting we weren’t in Calderwood anymore.

“If Mr. Brown is anything like a pig, I think I’d know how to cut him up,” Kathleen offered for she was the daughter of a butcher. By 9 o’clock most people were on board. Bethany and Lisa continued to stand their ground of disagreement. They didn’t want to eat a man for some reason.

By 10 o’clock, we had won them over. Lisa really did not want to go jail and we persuaded Bethany into thinking eating Mr. Brown was a method of getting revenge. They were hesitant, but there was no other way.

At 11 o’clock, we got him ready. Linda took care of the head, Brenda the limbs, Kathleen the organs, Nancy the cooking, Bethany the blood and I was in charge of cutting the meat–only Lisa sat and did nothing. The blood was poured into toilets, sinks and bathtubs between one-hour intervals; we didn’t want that much blood in the drains at once. The dismembering of the body was the hardest task to do since no knives in Lisa’s kitchen supported the cutting of human flesh. It took many hours but by sunrise, Mr. Brown was in twenty-five pieces.  Linda shaved the decapitated head and skinned his skull. The eyes were baked like potatoes with the legs, covered with a lemon honey glaze and sprinkled with rosemary. The skull was crushed almost into a powder and scattered into the soil of the garden. We threw the tongue, ears and teeth into the neighbour’s trash at dawn and continued to cook our full course meal.

We turned the lungs, heart and stomach into haggis, the intestines into a stew and sauteed the liver with onions and sage. The back and breast were ground through the not-so-useless meat grinder and layered between tomato sauce and cheese, baked as a lasagna. His hands were chopped into inch long pieces, breaded and fried in oil. We removed the skin and meat from his feet, marinated it in barbeque sauce then boiled it in order to make them cracker toppings. Longer bones, such as those in the arms, legs and ribs were burned in Lisa’s fireplace along with Mr. Brown’s clothes while the smaller bones were buried in the backyard. Everything remaining we ground and fed to the dog in the basement.

The entire process was muted, all you could hear was the occasional ding of the oven timer or the flame of the stove. I could tell nobody genuinely enjoyed it by their grimaces and constant cringing, but I was rather amused. I thought it was almost fun. I remember smiling when I saw his pink flesh being grounded like beef. I hadn’t smiled in years.

Nancy set the table while the remainder of us sat waiting in the living room. Still, nobody spoke. It was a risky plan, but I believe we executed it with precision. The bones were burnt and buried, the blood already in the sewers and Mr. Brown’s insides were well in the dog’s stomach by now. All that was left was to eat the rest of him. It was a genius plan, I wanted to pat myself on the back.

“Dinner is ready,” Nancy called from the dining room. Blank faces started to turn to look at the feast we had prepared. It was like a Thanksgiving dinner. One by one, we stood up and took our places around the dining table. Nancy lifted the covers of each dish, revealing foods that appeared very appetizing. Bethany said grace with tears in the brims of her eyes and began to split the lasagna. Before she could serve it to anyone, Lisa’s doorbell rang. As the sound echoed throughout the small condo, Lisa jumped out from her seat and ran upstairs. Guilty people always ran.

Four policemen were at the door, one held a picture of Joseph Brown and asked if I had seen this man in the last two days.

“No,” I answered calmly, “I hadn’t seen him since my last shift at the store on Wednesday. Why? Has something happened?”

“Yes ma’am,” the young officer informed, “his wife said he hasn’t come home since Friday. We’ve listed him as missing.”

“Oh well, that’s just terrible!” I gasped, “I wish I had more information to give you, I hope you find him soon.” I pause to glance back at the dinner table, at my friends and the Mr. Brown themed foods. “You know what, my friends and I just finished cooking up a scrumptious dinner, would you care to join?”

The young officer cracked a smile and chuckled, “We’d love to but the case comes first. We still have many houses to question. I appreciate the offer though, your meal smells fantastic! Thank you for your time, miss. Have a good evening.” With that, the four policemen walked away from the scene of the crime and visited the next house. I shut the door and returned to my seat. Lisa came back downstairs, pill bottle in hand for her panic attack which had now calmed down. Everybody’s eyes darted around the ceiling, trying to process what just happened. I’ll tell you what happened; we really got away with it. I loaded a piece of lasagna onto my fork and grinned as I put it in my mouth. I savoured the flavour before swallowing it. Mr. Brown was delicious.


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Fall Book Recommendations

The beginning of September is seen as a time of dread for many students as a new school year starts; deadlines begin approaching, homework piles up, and the darkness of tests starts to loom over us. With the stress of all of this, any fun, leisurely reading can quickly drop to the bottom of our list of things to do. Not only has reading on a daily basis been scientifically proven to improve academic scores, but more importantly it can be a great way to take a break and destress. To get you started, I’ve compiled a short list of novels that I’ve loved diving into over the last couple months.

So curl up with a fuzzy blanket & a hot drink (since summer seems to have sadly ended on us) and enjoy!

  1. 1. Inside the O’Briens by Lisa Genova

Many may recognize the name of this author from her famous book and motion picture, Still Alice. This novel was written as a continuation on the theme of how chronic illness not only impacts a patient physically, but also their support system both emotionally and socially. Genova shares the story of forty-three year old police officer, Joe O’Briens’, Huntington disease diagnosis. My favourite part of this book was definitely the human insights and resilience put forward in first perspective by his twenty-one year old daughter, Katie, who has to struggle with the decision of getting tested for Huntington’s or not.

 

2. Laughing All the Way to the Mosque by Zarqa Nawaz  

Written by the creator of comedy TV show, Little Mosque on the Prarie, Zarqa Nawaz has written a novel on growing up as a Muslim women in Western society. While the struggles were different 50 years ago, as a young Muslim girl living in a time of increasing division and hatred, I can still relate to some of the ideas she writes about. Over the last year, I’ve read many narratives, stories, and articles on combating racism and embracing diversity but one of the reasons I love this book is because it incorporates funny personal anecdotes which takes a light approach to a very deep subject. You will be sure to have a good laugh!

 

3. The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas 

Chances are, if you are a high school student, you’ve heard of this national bestselling book which has won numerous awards including the National Book Award for Young People’s Literature (2017) and the Edger Award for Best Young Adult (2018). After seeing the list of all the accolades and getting a copy of the novel as a gift, I thought I’d check it out. It follows the life of a 16 year old black girl, Star Williams, as she navigates her two lives; her fancy private school and her poor neighbourhood community as well as the shooting of her friend Khalil. It will definitely getting you thinking about social commentary.

4. The Ash Garden by Dennis Bock 

To be completely honest with you, it took me very long time to get through this story… Between the extremely strong language and the scattered plot line, I wasn’t quite hooked until about 3/4 of the way through the book. One of the weird things about me is that I hate stopping books mid way through, so I persevered and, boy, am I glad that I did. Its a historical fiction novel that illustrates the events of the Hiroshima bombing through two completely different perspectives; a six year old Japanese girl and a young German scientist.

 

 

5. Ish by Peter Reynolds

I know, I know – what is a 10 page children’s book with pictures doing on this list? I had never actually seen this story book until a few weeks ago but I immediately connected with the main idea of it. In the competitive, high paced, digital world we are living in, I think its a great reminder for all of us to take a step back and remember that there’s a lot more to life, than getting everything “just right.”

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Summer Swim Club

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A lot of people love to swim but don’t have the time during the school year. Luckily there’s such thing as a summer swim club. It runs from May to August, and it is not as much of a commitment compared to winter swim club.

Swimming during the summer is fun and also competitive. Similar to winter swimming, there are still swim meets and lots of competitions.

During the entire season, there is 9 meets total, including regionals and provincials. The 7 meets before regionals are to see which strokes you do best, and regionals is where you pick your 4 best events to compete in. If you are top 2 in your region, you qualify for provincials, where you swim against the fastest swimmers from all over Alberta.

However, if you choose not to be very competitive and just want to learn how to swim, you can do that too.

Summer swimming is a great alternative for winter swimming if you do not have the time.

 

Image Sources: 1/2/3/4

The Club Kids of New York’s Influence on Fashion

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In the 80’s and 90’s, the Club Kids, a youth group of dance personalities led primarily by party promoter Michael Alig, were a defining force in New York’s underground party scene. One Club Kid who can be commonly recognized by those born outside of the Club Kid era is RuPaul. RuPaul is a drag queen especially noted for producing the drag competition show, RuPaul’s Drag Race. The group is notable for experimentation, flamboyant persona’s, and outrageous looks. In 1988, Michael Musto wrote, 

They … are terminally superficial, have dubious aesthetic values, and are master manipulators, exploiters, and, thank God, partiers. 

Drug use quickly influenced the group, eventually leading to the conviction of Michael Alig and his roommate Robert D. “Freeze” Riggs for the murder of a fellow Club Kid member, Andre “Angel” Melendez, over a drug debt. Regardless, the New York club scene became a safe haven for marginalized groups to reflect a true expression of themselves. The encouragement of experimentation led to a pushing of boundaries politically, musically, and aesthetically. Up until this point, Mayor Rudy Giuliani of New York cracked down on nightclubs, further marginalizing and hindering the expression of homosexuals, genderqueer folk, and people of colour. Michael Alig, along with his mentor James St. James, created a profound community, centred around the club Limelight, for the nation’s misfits, encouraging unique self-expression and defining a clear political statement, shaping the electronic/hip-hop music style, and creating a never before seen look.

James St. James

This aesthetic is still extremely influential on runways and in LGBTQ+ fashion. Nightlife for Club Kids consisted of an absolute fluidity of gender, self-made outfits, and an iconic truth of self. The looks of Club Kids were extremely imaginative, far more extreme than runway looks at the time. Their fearlessness inspired fashion, notably influencing designer John Paul Gaultier, who frequently visited Limelight.


Vintage is resurfacing, and it has been for some time. The aesthetic of the 90’s is bright, patterned, and often weird. This utilization of design and mixing of aesthetics was extremely prevalent in New York nightclubs, shaping the bright and glittery 90’s era described today. This resurface has allowed the aesthetic to thrive in commercial style and in high fashion. Frankly, Club Kids’ makeup was odd, often consisting of bright colours and harsh lines. In June of 2018, Crayola released a makeup collection that shocked the internet. Although the quality of the products is questionable, the promo pictures were stunning and mimicked a familiar 90’s aesthetic, showing that makeup is for everyone, including people of colour and men.

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An ad for the Crayola makeup line that mirrors the Club Kids’ makeup

In high fashion, designers like Gucci have put a twist on the eccentric style, featuring curious patterns, extravagant accessories, and lot’s of shine in recent collections. For his 30th birthday, Frank Ocean threw a Paris is Burning themed birthday party, where he was seen wearing large Gucci pineapple sunglasses and net crystal pants, priced currently on Gucci’s website at $4750. Although that doesn’t necessarily follow the DIY of Club Kid aesthetic, it definitely follows the unconventional style and fabulousness.

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Frank Ocean at his 30th birthday party

Designers may not purposely gain inspiration from Alig and the often childish “lunchbox” aesthetic of the Club Kids, but the design choices and the ethos of fabulousness, fame, and flash is rooted in the iconic looks of New York. The persona of the Club Kid era is recognized with an attitude of “being famous for being famous,” which is still extremely present in the current culture of North America, as the popularity of T.V. reality and social media continues to rise.


In particular, Lady Gaga is credited for bringing forward a new, but familiar Club Kid style to modern pop culture. Her take on the kiddie aesthetic has brought forward a new group of ‘club kids” in New York, unrelated to Michael, but partiers nonetheless.

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Lady Gaga pictured leaving an airport

Michael Musto described the Club Kid look and persona humorously saying,

We’re a bunch of kids but we’re really bratty kids and we’re doing things that shouldn’t be done by anybody.

One important aspect of the Club Kid aesthetic was the statement behind it. The fashion was boundary pushing, but it was also an outward expression of an oppressed culture. The nightlife was a safe haven for the disenfranchised people of New York to express a unique individuality and sexuality. Underground clubs celebrated differences, exploring the limits of fashion and the Club Kids’ own alienation by blending what Musto describes as,

Japanese anime, fractured fairy tale Mother Goose chic gone amok, apocalyptic chic, and a heavy influence of British outrageous performance art in the person of Leigh Bowery.

Ultimately, the Club Kids achieved their goal… using outrageous stylistic choices as a way to get famous at all costs. Along that road to legendary status, which was often dark and twisted, the Club Kids defined the aesthetic of the 90’s. Their uniqueness allowed their experience to survive today, where the mindset of the Club Kids continue to thrive in an increasingly digital world. These clubs acted as a support system for marginalized groups, allowing those who were alienated to explore their sexuality, gender, and look, ultimately leading to a group of partiers who defined what it means to be unique. Through experimentation, the Club Kids created a persona and especially, an aesthetic that has transcended into modern culture, paving the way for the unique, outlandish, and utterly fabulous stylistic choices that exist today.


Club Kids-

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Club Kids Astro Erle, Sushi, Desi Monster, and Waltpaper Copabanana
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Kenny Kenny, Lavinia Co-op, and Chris Couture in Limelight
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Desi Monster and Jennytalia at the Official Outlaw Party in Jackson Square Park, NYC
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Michael Alig and Keoki at Larry Tee’s Love Machine, 1990
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Early beginnings of a drag evolution
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Sacred Boy and Keda
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Dean Bowery wearing his signature double glasses

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The Fader

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Club Kid

James St. James

Crayola

Frank Ocean

Lady Gaga

Club Kids Photos 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7


A Note from the Author:

I have a lot of admiration for the Club Kids of New York. Obviously, there were some aspects of this party culture that are extremely dark. However, I can respect the individuality of these trendsetters that impacted and continues to impact fashion. Personally, I find commercial fashion… boring, especially for men. I’m someone who genuinely enjoys high fashion and appreciates the art and eccentric style. Not that I’m trying to be pretentious, but the way I look at it, life is very short, and in that confined time I want to do and explore as much as possible. Particularly, commercial men’s fashion lacks a utilization of colour and fabric that I see in women’s clothing from the same brands. It’s often disheartening to walk into a huge women’s section only to find nothing upstairs. Not that this is a huge issue because in theory, I could shop wherever I wanted, in the men or women section. However, in practice, androgyny comes with a lot of ridicule. I could never dress like a Club Kid going to school, but a part of me wish I could because simply, why not. Looking at the pictures and seeing such odd outfits and makeup styles was exciting. This is why I admire and chose to write about the Club Kids. The underground nightlife in New York was completely judgement free. Androgyny, fluidity, and outfits that were straight-up weird were accepted because to them and many others, gender was a social construct that didn’t need to be followed. The celebration of experimentation is what I think was the most iconic aspect of the Club Kids. That willingness to push boundaries changed the aesthetic of the time and continues to influence modern fashion. Noticeably, I’m very fortunate to even be in a position to complain about the selection of clothes affordable brands have to offer, and I’m not trying to be hypercritical because obviously not everyone is going to want to shave their eyebrows and wear gas-masks in public. However, I just hope that the unquestioned acceptance exemplified by the Club Kids of New York becomes more widespread, not just for fashion, but for the lives and choices of others. Truly, life is short… so dress how you want, don’t let others disrespect your uniqueness, and just party!

Mysteries of Space: Black Holes

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What is a black hole?

 

A black hole is a region in space where gravity pulls so much that even light cannot get out. The gravity is so strong because of how dense they are. These mysterious phenomenon form when a dying star can no longer put out any energy so the gravity of the star will cause it to collapse on itself. All the mass will be concentrated into one space, forming the black hole. To give you some perspective, if the earth magically collapsed into a black hole, it would be about the size of a nickel.

 

The 3 types of black holes

Primordial: Tiny black holes; could be the size of an atom or a mountain.

Stellar: The most common type; they’re about 20 times larger than the sun.

Supermassive: These behemoths can have the mass of about 1 billion suns. They can dwarves the size of our solar system!

Did you know? Our very own galaxy, the milky way, has a supermassive black hole at the center. Don’t worry though, it’s 26 000 light years away.

 

“Parts” of a black hole

Point of singularity: All the matter of the star before it died and anything that the black hole eats will be squeezed into the center of a black hole is a gravitational singularity, a one-dimensional point which contains a huge mass in an infinitely small space, where density and gravity become infinite and space-time curves infinitely. Scientist are still trying to discover more about this singularity as our modern laws of physics wouldn’t work in such an environment.

Accretion disc: Material such as gas, dust, and stellar debris that has not quite fallen in yet forms a flattened band of super high speed spinning matter around the event horizon. This accretion disk can be seen, because the spinning particles are accelerated to tremendous speeds by the huge gravity of the black hole, releasing heat and powerful x-rays and gamma rays out into the universe as they smash into each other. The most powerful gamma ray bursts are produced by black holes, and can be seen from millions of light years away.

Event horizon: It’s sort of like the point of no return, once you go past it, you will never be able to come out.

 

How can we see a black hole?

Because no light can get out, people can’t see black holes; they are invisible. However, scientists can see the accretion disc formed by the black hole. They can also observe how the strong gravity affects the stars and gas around the black hole. By looking what’s around the black hole, scientists can determine the mass of the black hole too.

We still have much to learn on this topic, but scientists are learning more and more every day. Black holes are one of the most puzzling aspects of space, but that’s what makes them interesting!

 

Sources: 1/2/3

Image Sources: 1/2/3/4/5/6

10 Must-Attend Festivals Before the 2018 School Year

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Are you looking for a festive place to spend time with your friends this summer? August is already here, and Calgary has a collection of lively events planned out! Here is a list of 10 must-attend festivals before the 2018-19 school year:

Calgary Fringe Festival

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The popular annual film festival event is ready for its next August events in Calgary from August 3-11. The Calgary Fringe offers to foster a sense of community to Calgarians through the theatrical arts, including interdisciplinary approaches to artistic freedom and expression, as well as festive shows. Come on down to learn about the artistic history of Canada, as well as the innovative future of Canadian art and music.

For more information:Click here  or Click here

Shakespeare by the Bow

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To be held in Prince’s Island Park, Shakespeare by the Bow gives an opportunity to bask in the glory of Albertan artists and to join in on Shakespeare’s first comedy, “The Two Gentlemen of Verona.” Theatre Calgary is the city’s largest theatre company, and it upholds its status with this theatre event, featuring Alberta’s emerging artists that will steal the stage in future years. Make sure to attend this event before it closes on August 19, and all performances are Pay What You Will.

For more information: Click here

Kensington Summertime Outdoor Movie Series

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For the first four Fridays in August at 9 p.m., bring your own chair with your family to enjoy a free, classic movie in this popular outdoor cinema. Make sure to keep extra bug spray and a comfortable cushion for your chair, as this is an outdoor event.

For more information: Click here

Movies at the Meadows

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Watching movies outdoors is becoming a popular activity for the summer. Spruce Meadows is offering a family friendly get-together to watch movies together under the stars! There will be popcorn and movie treats available for purchase. Bring a chair and a blanket, as the doors open at 7 p.m., but the movie starts at 9 p.m.

For more information: Click here

Milky Way Nights

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The Rothney Astrophysical Observatory in the University of Calgary is holding a late night observing to see stars, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, as well as The Perseid Meteor Show. The public will be observing the night sky alongside astronomical researchers from U of C. There will be a sky tour, but no formal talk will be held because this event is dedicated to observation with telescopes and enjoyment of the array of constellations and planets.

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Taste of Calgary

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Get a taste of the most interesting and unique beverages, restaurants, musicians, and marketplace vendors in Taste of Calgary’s 2018 festival! You can sample any menu items, visit artisans and entrepreneurs, and join in on the interactive activities. The Taste of Calgary’s official website also allows you to become a volunteer, a vendor, or even buy your tickets in advance to avoid the long lines.

For more information: Click here

When Words Collide

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If you’re interested in reading, writing, publishing, poetry, or literary fiction art, then this festival is for you. Register for this event (August 10-12) to meet hundreds of people with similar interests, and listen to bestselling authors, journalists, and editors as they share their stories and advice on how you can advance in your passion for words.

For more information: Click here

Global Fest

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Held annually since 2003, Global Fest is a non-profit festival is dedicated towards celebrating Calgary’s cultural and artistic diversity.  The Human Rights Forum and Urban Arts Program enhances the reputation of Calgary’s values and principles. There will be live music, multicultural food, handcrafted keepsakes, and international clothing, all available at the Night Market!

For more information: Click here

Japanese Festival “Omatsuri”

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Come down to the Max Bell Centre on Saturday, August 11, 2018, to celebrate Japanese culture with authentic music, dance, and martial arts. There will be games for kids, galleries of local arts and crafts, as well as kiosks that will sell you the finest Japanese cuisine.

For more information: Click here

Calgary Dragon Boat Race and Festival

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On August 11-12, come to North Glenmore Park to watch a competitive and active dragon boat competition! This family-friendly contest inspires teamwork and cooperation. There will be food trucks, special events, and teams participating from outside of Calgary. Join 4000+ spectators to view this years Dragon Boat Festival for the most memorable experience this summer!

For more information: Click here

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Job Interview Cheat Sheet: How to Guarantee Yourself Any Job

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Are you looking for a job but aren’t sure if you’ll be hired? Is there a position you just have to get? Here are some tips to help you ace that next interview!

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Research the company/industry you have in mind

Your interviewer may ask questions about the company’s mission and values, what the company has been up to lately, or recent changes in the company itself. For this reason, research the company you are applying to, and try to ask yourself questions you think the interviewer may ask. The more you know about the company you are applying to, the higher your chances of nailing that interview.

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Clarify your selling points

To guarantee your success, work on your first impression.  Come in with positive energy and shake the interviewer(s) hand.  Then, prepare yourself with a few points on why you are fit for the job. Interviewers may receive hundreds of résumés and applicants, and it is your job to prove to them that you are a better fit for the company. Have an example for each of your selling points and show enthusiasm! Interviewers look for interest, and this willingness for the position can be what differentiates you from the other applicants.

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Practice the common questions

I’m sure you have heard of common interview questions, such as “what is your biggest strength,” or even “tell us an example of a time you…” These questions may seem simple, but are hard to answer on the spot. To prevent yourself from fumbling in an interview, try watching recent YouTube videos or read a few books on common interview questions and how to answer them. Look for questions that you will most likely be asked based on your age or work experience.

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Also practice the “behaviour-based” questions

These questions take up most of the interview. This is the moment you are asked to describe experiences about certain behaviours that are important for the position. For example, you may be asked what you did when you made a wrong decision, how well you worked under pressure, or how you approached a task with limited information.  The SAR (Situation-Action-Result) method is useful here. Reword the situation presented, explain the actions you took, the consequences of these actions, and what you learned from the experience.

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Have some questions ready for the interviewer

An interviewer may ask you if you have any questions at the end. If you answer with “no” or “not really”, it may seem as if you are not interested in the position you applied for. Instead, try to prepare at least two questions for the interviewer, such as “what do you look for in a potential candidate?” or “what are the best things about this company?”  You can also come up with a few questions throughout the interview. Don’t be afraid to ask in the middle!

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Send thank-you notes

Putting aside the results of the interview, thank-you notes are always a good way to give thanks to the company for their time. These should be sent to the company within 24 hours of the interview. You can send one by e-mail or mail, depending on the preferences of the company. Make sure to include specific details about the interview, such as “I was interested about what you mentioned about the…” This way, you will increase your chances of leaving a lasting impression in the interviewer’s mind!

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