The Melange April 2023 Issue

A r t s & S c i e n c e S t u d e n t M a g a z i n e

vision statement

Our vision is for The Melange to be a light-hearted and enjoyable read, to shine light on what constitutes the Artsci experience (in terms of our formal degrees, but also in terms of day-to-day goings-on!), and to bring Artsci students together to appreciate each other’s written and visual talent.

We want The Melange to be a positive force within the Artsci community; as such, we do not accept or publish submissions that are discriminatory or hateful There is room for thoughtful critique or for kind-hearted teasing in the name of humour or satire, but there is not room for pieces that insult anyone, are hurtful, or perpetuate racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, ageism, or religious discrimination We also want all information published in The Melange to be factual, correct, and clear; please note that fact-checking and resulting edits for non-fiction pieces will be included in the editorial process.

Content guidelines

Think about The Melange and all of its content as aiming to be community-building: when designing your submission, check with yourself: “Is this contribution supportive of my Artsci community?” (though your contribution doesn’t have to be about Artsci!)

If you want to create a piece on a faculty member, admin, student, or alumni, please get their consent (and evidence of consent, to show our editors) for the specific way in which you will be portraying them before you create or submit your piece Note: Merely referring to an individual in passing (i e , when they’re not the subject of your piece) doesn’t require formal consent, but please note that The Melange’s editors reserve the right to edit these names out of a piece if their inclusion is inappropriate

Please aim to keep submissions under two pages maximum/1000 words We will assess submissions on a case-by-case basis, but generally we are looking for short pieces

We accept poetry, short stories, comic strips, recipes, humour and satire, book reviews, reflections, visual art, fun riddles or crossword puzzles, and any other categories of submissions you come up with! Be as creative as you want! We can’t wait to enjoy your work :)

Submission and editorial process

Submissions should be sent exclusively to themelangebyartsci@gmail com Please attach your submission to the email as a Word Document or Google Doc, and indicate in your message what type of submission it is (e g “historical fiction comic strip” or “interview with an Artsci alumnus”). If yours is a written piece, feel free to attach any images you would like to accompany it on the page or provide suggestions for accompanying illustrations for our team of artists to take on!

One of our editors will contact you directly within a few days of the contribution deadline to notify you whether there is space for your piece in the upcoming issue or whether we will need to save it for a future issue If your piece is accepted, there will be a specific editorial timeline We reserve the right to reject submissions if they do not follow our content guidelines

Editors will work one-on-one with contributors to edit their pieces There will be an initial round of edits, which the editor will return as feedback to the creator for any necessary or suggested revisions A final draft will be sent from the creator back to the editor, who then will complete final touch-ups Please be available to make revisions to your piece in the week following the contribution deadline, since our turnaround time for edits will be quick!

WIN A PRIZE BY DOING WIN A PRIZE BY DOING THIS SIMPLE HACK! THIS SIMPLE HACK!

It’s not clickbait, readers: as a special thank you for being such dedicated fans, we’ve devised a quest for you Somewhere in this issue, we’ve hidden the Melange logo (pictured here): be the first to find it to win a signature Melange button! Send an email to themelangebyartsci@outloo k.com telling us where you found it for your chance to win.Happyperusing!

Volume 3 no. 6

DearReader,

I’ve written two editor’s notes for The Melange The first was back in September 2021, for my first ever issue as a Melange editor, where I rambled (somewhatcoherently,Iliketothink)aboutbeginnings Poetically,thisismy secondandlasteditor’snote andnaturally,itisaboutendings

As I stare down the barrel of my last set of finals before graduation, I’m not thinking about my insurmountably long to-do list, gathering digital dust in my notes app. Rather, I’m foraying back into my memories of heated philosophical debates, of exultant parties, of quiet moments on the couch with friends trying to find meaning in the time I’ve spent here, and in my choicetoleave

It seems especially fitting, then, that this issue is about time Time, which expands and compresses as it pleases Time, which waits for no one and comes for us all Time, which whisks us away from the things and people we lovemostandstill,somehow,breathesinfinitemeaningintoourfinitelives.

And yet, sometimes (and this is one of those times), I want time to pause To stretch out, thick and sweet as molasses, and let me enjoy the moments I thinkthat’swhyIloveTheMelangesomuch:everyissueislikeatimecapsule

Art, whether it’s words or pictures, is funny like that it lets you stop time, and it lets you time travel When you peer into an issue of the magazine, you glimpse a fleeting moment made immortal (that is, if our Issuu subscription lasts)

So, whether you’re a month from graduation or just done your first year, relish the time you have left in Artsci Make memories, and make art As a well-known poet and philosopher once said: “Have me a good time, before mytimeisup ”And,ifyoufeeltheurge,readthisissue Orrevisitit,ifyouever wanttorecapturethistime IknowIwill,andIknowtheTheMelangewillbe waitingforme

Forever&always,

Editors: Anitra Bowman, Amarah Hasham-Steele, Charlotte Johnston, Luke Fancott, Sam Potts, Elle Klassen, Emily O'Halloran,NavyaSheth

Journalists: Olly Griesbach, Ishmeet Johal, Tess Macdonald, DaniWohl,AliceQiu

Contributors: Alyssa Abush, Jack Gillies, Tasmiya Khondoker, Graeme Lavrance, Camille Lisser, Flynn O'Dacre, Zoë Wind, MaceyZhou

Artists/Illustrators: Jayda Hewitt, Jadyn Westenberg, Victoria D'Anna

Layout/ArtEditors:AmandaDam,MayaZabian

Brought

The iconic McMaster arch, April 2023

The Artsci art Show In Review

If you’re anything like me, your initial interest in the Arts & Science program might have been because you thought it combined fine arts and science Spoiler alert: it does not Nevertheless, the artistic talent of Arts & Crafts Science students of all levels was on display the evening of February 27th, at the annual Artsci Art Show. In spite of a sudden snowfall, many attendees trudged across campus to indulge in a night of aesthetic entertainment, live music, and those delicious little brownie squares we always get with catering (you know the ones I’m talking about) Without further preamble, here are some unique and powerful trends I noticed among the art that was exhibited:

Unconventional Mediums Multimedia/

Faces

At least half of the works on display were portraits or otherwise featured the human form. Many Artscis submitted portraits of those closest to them and conveyed with overwhelming success what those people mean to us. These portraits were bold in terms of scale, some larger than life Contributing artists told stories in the languages of composition, perspective and texture, and their brushstrokes and pencil lines filled their canvases with care and significance. Clearly, Artscis value the relationships that make our actions meaningful and the vibrancy of the human experience

W o r d s

I’ll admit it I can be a bit of a purist when it comes to visual art Like a picky eater who demands that the food on her plate isn’t touching, I don’t like to put my oil paint next to my colored pencil Fortunately, not all Artscis have the same reservations Many artists took up multiple mediums, combining ink and paper-collage, beads and wire mesh, even my dreaded paint and pencil Other artists eschewed traditional mediums altogether and made art with pill bottles or price tags My art teacher used to tell me, “Don’t let the medium push you around!” But that’s only half good advice Collaborate with the medium Allow it to guide your hand According to this year’s Art Show, the result will be spectacular.

Let’s face the facts In Arts & Science, we write so much And, if we’re being honest with ourselves, academic writing is often a soul-sucking blunt instrument At the Art Show, we used our words to make art Words and poetry were incorporated into various twodimensional artworks, from poetry made from newspaper clippings to calligraphy inscribed on watercolour paintings, adding a new dimension to the experience of these pieces Too often, we devour art that deserves to be savoured Words slow us down We have to stand in one place and read them We have to consider them in the context of and in conversation with the accompanying visuals. Then we have to look beyond them. Words are just boxes we put things in. Words are a medium just like pencil or paint, and they deserve just as much implicit deliberation

The abundance of processes and perspectives in this year’s Art Show showed me that art is deeply personal but I also learned that art can be a community-building tool. When we show up for the Art Show, we don’t just show up for art and creativity; we show up for each other

A couple romantic strolls At least a few meditations Several mental breakdowns Dozens of wedgies unpicked These are some of the things the trees in Cootes Paradise have seen of me. But the thing they have witnessed most often is a marriage of awe and calm that places without trees simply don’t give me My mom hypothesizes there must be a gene on the Cox/Powell side of our family that draws people to plants. For some, it’s a lifelong passion, while for others, the love of plants comes later in life. Regardless of when we catch the germ, so many of us seem to become enamoured with greenery whether it’s trees, flowers, or gardening. It seems I’ve been hit with a soft spot for trees these past few years. That’s why hearing about trees being removed always saddens me, regardless of how many new saplings are promised When you love something, a new version just isn't the same This is part of why I’m nervous to be leaving Artsci and Mac altogether this spring. Whatever happens next, it won’t be the same as Artsci has been

I’ve learned a lot at Mac, but the importance of finding a happy place is something the trees in Cootes have taught me. (Though, I suppose I probably could have taken Trees Inquiry to find that out ) I’ve learned that if where I am doesn’t invoke awe in me, I have to make time to go somewhere that does You could take that figuratively if you wanted to, but I mean it literally. Trees

inspire, calm, and exhilarate me, so I spend time near them It may not be the most profound lesson I’ve learned, but it has been an important one.

As I’ve spent more time with them, trees have become increasingly central to my life While others mark the passing of time with birthdays and New Year’s, I find myself more and more using trees. When ginkgo leaves turn golden and maples look like they’ve gone up in flames, I start thinking about what the new school year will be like and what I hope to accomplish When buds graduate to fully-fledged blossoms, it’s always a beginning and an end for me: the end of a school year and the beginning of a summer season Even though I’m graduating this semester after four years in Artsci, there are still a least a few more years of school for me And I think I’ve gotten so used to seeing time pass through trees that I’ll always see fall and spring as beginnings and endings, even after I leave school for the last time So, as the leaves emerge again this spring, I’ll take my last few hikes through Cootes and I’ll know it’s time to pack my things.

AnitraBowman, LevelIV

Season lEaves On childhood

Memories are hazy like summer, they can swelter and they can boil, they can leave you sun-kissed and satiated. Memories are like a scraped knee in the summertime; like a cold popsicle on your gums

Maybe, you were running outside, in the woods, with your brother or your sister Newfoundlandian moss and wildflowers and pineneedles underfoot as you charge ahead. Leaping and soaring through the underbrush and over logs. Your foot catching on an upturned root and you sprawl; memories are like twisting your ankle in your youth in the summer It is ingrained in you, sedimented in your history, your fossil record so to speak

Memories are like lounging in the hot sun with a cicada in your ear and the chickadee on your door-step. Maybe it's dirt and maybe it's linen Maybe there are birds at the feeder or your old shaggy cat on the gravel Maybe your dad is at the barbeque with a burger, maybe your mother is there with a green-bean salad

It could be that your father mows the lawn or that you swallowed pool water. Perhaps it's the fear of going to the front of the house or into

the barn, the fear of what would happen

Your dog’s tongue lolls out of his mouth and your sister has her nose in a book You're at the park and the hot metal of the structure is satisfying, like lizard-on-rock.

Maybe there are bug bites or a summer storm rain on the roof and windows Maybe you can’t fully remember, maybe it's colourful and maybe it's your neighbourhood friend whose face you can’t quite place You carry them with you and you cling to them, through the tumultuous and shifting adolescence of fall, the harsh adulthood of winter, and if you’re lucky, to the fruitful ageing of spring. You carry and recall them regardless of their joy or their sorrow; they are your parents fighting or your parents laughing and they are wine and lemonade

GraemeLavrance, LevelI

Holocaust education week at mcmaster

In the final week of January, McMaster Hillel, an organization for Jewish students on campus, coordinated events to recognize Holocaust Education Week The timing of this week centers around January 27, when Auschwitz was liberated. To learn more about the importance of this week, I interviewed Level III Artsci Sydney Wisener, who is McMaster Hillel’s Holocaust Education Chair In commemoration of this week, Sydney organized several phenomenal events for all McMaster students, faculty, and staff. Hillel hosted a Holocaust Education exhibit from Yad Vashem in MUSC, offering valuable insights into the timeline of the Holocaust (Shoah) and the atrocities that occurred in concentration camps. We also had the honour of listening to Holocaust survivor Andy Réti, who recounted his firsthand experiences as a child Shoah survivor in Hungary The following day, Hillel hosted a bagel lunch, where attendees read and discussed a selection of Holocaust survivor testimonies. On Friday January 27, Hillel held a Shabbat dinner to reflect upon the events that occurred throughout the week During the event, McMaster student Koby Welman shared his grandfather’s story of surviving the Holocaust Lastly, on the following Monday, Hillel hosted a virtual tour and seminar of the AuschwitzBirkenau concentration camp, which was a difficult but highly educational experience

Sydney has been involved with Holocaust Education Week since her first year at McMaster This year, she created and took on the position of Holocaust Education Chair Sydney was motivated to take on this important role as she was inspired by her grandfather, Mendel Wisener, who was a Holocaust survivor. He was forced into three concentration camps Auschwitz, Gusen II, and Mauthausen and he and his brother were the only two of their eight siblings to survive Sydney is dedicated to continuing to share his and other survivors’ stories, and to pushing forward Holocaust education in order to ensure the atrocities of the Holocaust never happen again She reflects that it is so important for all of us to “take on the responsibility to learn about [the Holocaust] throughout the year, because in order to ensure that [such an atrocity] will never happen again, we need to actively be engaging with this topic ”

One moment from the week that stood out to both Sydney and I was listening to Holocaust survivor Andy Réti Sydney was moved by the pledge Mr Réti had all of us in attendance recite, in which all participants promised to speak up in situations of injustice. Afterwards, Mr. Réti said “now that you have taken this pledge, you all have a responsibility to ensure that education will prevail over ignorance ” Reflecting on this powerful statement, Sydney shares that we must remember the event of the Holocaust “didn’t occur in a vacuum.” Rather, “there was a lot of ignorance and hatred involved that allowed it.” Sydney further explains that we must remember all the “small steps” that led up to the Shoah to ensure it won’t happen again We should listen to Holocaust survivors speak any time the opportunity presents

itself, as we are the last generation with the opportunity to hear firsthand accounts from those who were directly impacted

It is crucial to keep in mind that antisemitism neither started nor ended with the Holocaust During our interview, Sydney spoke about a particular event that occurred during the week which reminded her of this fact On the days the Holocaust Education exhibit was in MUSC, Hillel members stood in front of the exhibit and answered questions Sydney recounts how one student came up to the group of Hillel leaders, saying “Kanye was right ” This statement is especially troubling given Kanye’s recent controversial comments, insinuating his support for Hitler. This is not a standalone event. Antisemitism occurs too frequently both on campus and around the world

Sydney explains that antisemitism is a form of hatred that perpetuates in “complicated ways that are sometimes hard to recognize” The term antisemitism is much more complex than can be explained in this article, and I encourage you to do more research on this word’s meaning However, it is important to recognize that while the Holocaust was an extreme manifestation of antisemitism, this form of discrimination can also present itself in more subtle ways including, but not limited to: making fun of Jewish facial features; Holocaust denial/distortion; comparisons between the Holocaust and unrelated events, essentially minimizing the horrors of this atrocity; stereotyping Jewish people as being ‘good with money,’ powerful, or ruling the world (or other stereotypes that can appear to be complements on the surface); conflating the views of all Jewish/Israeli people with the views of the Israeli government; and scapegoating/blaming Jewish people for issues they are not responsible for

Reflecting on the week, one moment that stood out to me was the Friday night Shabbat dinner organized by Sydney and other members of the Hillel Executive team Sydney encouraged Hillel members to reach out to non-Jewish friends so that we could all share in the dinner together I was fortunate that many of my housemates could come I felt joy in embracing my Jewish identity and took pride in sharing one of my favourite traditions with my housemates, watching them participate in our customs and share in this experience

With this sentiment in mind, I asked Sydney what aspect of Judaism she finds most meaningful. Her answer was the Jewish community She loves how she feels that wherever she is, if she finds another Jewish person, she feels a connection to them Sydney also shares that she loves how welcoming the Jewish community is. She tells of her family’s Shabbat dinner every week. When she was growing up, her family always invited other people who didn’t have anyone else to spend Shabbat or holidays with, regardless of whether they were Jewish or not

CamilleLisser, LevelII

Your hands

I only see two

But there are so many things in this life

I want ours to do

Different speeds

Different lines

One moves slow, one moves fast, they overlap on their paths

That’s how we tell a perfect time

Who knows what’s held in hands of fate

My wrist wearing a silver promise

My palm holding something worth the wait

I know they say that a broken clock is right even twice a day

But I watch for a countdown

With nothing to say

My hands

Clutching my heart

All the things these hands could someday build

And the fear that they’ll only ever fall apart

Louder, looming larger

A ticking sound on every shelf

I lose track of moments as it all spins faster

Losing track of time, losing time itself

Who knows when, if ever, we’re ever done

I was once the wistful walker, but then we learned to run

I know they say you’ll find your way, there’s a right time for your right place

But your hands sprint to a finish

And I’m not good at the chase

How to catch up to time, when it’s running its own course

Hold still, spin late Hold close, just wait Count down, grow up Time moves, time’s up

My watch, the clock

The villain, my rock

If you were broken, you still could be right Though I wouldn’t know how, or when Maybe that’s what makes perfect time We’ll overlap on our paths, now and then If there’s a time to walk on, amidst time running fast I beg you to please tell me when Once every while, surely we’re bound to overlap Time and time again

“We each have the same hours in every day” but hearing that, each time, makes me feel much worse

I know it’s well intentioned, but I can’t help but question the cause I once wished I could just fast forward, now if only I could just pause

How to hold sacred precious memories, when I know soon I must loosen the clutch

When you once kept up with everything, how do you go to merely keeping in touch?

I know nothing is forever, but can’t help but want the best to last I once lost track of time, now I’m only losing it--and fast

Can I wistfully walk without fear of running late

Not let the fleeting good be ruined by fear of impending ending dates

I know the hands on a broken clock will cross now and then Can I catch up, walk beside you?

With your hands,

Show me when

Your hands, my wrist

And sounds of ticks

Right place, right time

We’ll intertwine

Keep up, keep track

Keep touch, hold back,

BROKEN CLOCK BROKEN CLOCK

DaniWohl, LevelIII

VictoriaD'Anna, LevelII

A love letter to time A love letter to time

I had a dream about you last night

You were my mother;

We were in the grocery store, I'd wandered to the ice-cream aisle and now I couldn’t find you

With horror, I realized you’d left without me followed you down the freeway but kept missing the exits

guess I was too busy looking in the rear-view

When I finally caught up, you were picking flowers in my childhood bedroom (the one that got torn down)

I asked what you were doing there

You said, I could ask you the same

You handed me the bouquet, your hands weathered and wise, and said I should get going, it will be dark soon

I begged you to wait for me a moment, there’s something I need to find

It will only take a moment

I just need to remember what it is

But you only shook your head, cupped my face in your hands (they’re softer than they look)

brushed the tear from my cheek and said I am not meant to be kind, only true

OllyGriesbach, LevelIII

Dear universe,

I want kind and gentle love.

I want love like the remaining warmth after sunset on the beach

I want love like tiny rain pecks, kissing my cheeks

I want love like everlasting fabric softener, still there when I open my closet weeks after

I want love as if it were a giant bear hug, where my head rests on his chest and I can feel the shake of his laughter

I want the type of love that will sweep me off my feet, even though it didn’t have to.

I want the kind of love that starts with hey, I think I like you and goes on to let me get to know you

I want to feel the lingering tension after something as simple as a hi, how are you I want comfortable love where we can hold hands forever and there would be no sweat between our palms

I long so dearly for a genuine smile, or even a simple head nod that can spark my inner fantasies

In my mind we are already married.

I know I sound crazy right now, but universe hear me out

I’ve been extra nice lately, patiently waiting for my genuine smile, aching for that spark

So, when possible (at your earliest convenience), please let our paths meet.

MaceyZhou, LevelI

"At Your "At Your Earliest Earliest Convenience" Convenience"

Interview with

dr. marquis

Melange editor Charlotte Johnston sat down with Artsci director Dr Beth Marquis to talk about her first year as director, challenges and changes, and where things are going for next year

CJ: What were your expectations coming into the summer and September?

BM: I mean, it was an interesting transition because I was on research leave last year and the year before was fully online, so it felt like even more of a transition than it might have in other years. But thankfully, Dr. Wilson, not surprisingly, was extremely generous with her time And so I don't think this is common for people transitioning into similar roles, but I had a fairly extensive period of time that I could come in and meet with her and learn some of the stuff that I wouldn't have had access to as an instructor in the program So it wasn't like there were any huge surprises It was just a big change And I think maybe the one thing that's still sort of surprising to me, is just how much there is to know. I keep saying jokingly to people, I look forward to the day when I will feel like I know something again

CJ: Dr Wilson, she was program director for

BM: Eleven years

CJ: Eleven years I was wondering if there's anything not that you were set on taking the program apart but was there anything she had built that you weren't so sure about?

BM: Not really, honestly I think obviously everybody does things their own way So there's figuring out how my approach fits into the existing system and where things might shift or be tweaked, but I think generally the goal is just to maintain a steady state and then continue to build on some of the really exciting things that have been priorities for a long time.

CJ: There have been curriculum changes even this year Was that something that’s been in the works for a few years?

BM: I mean, that's a perfect example of these kinds of processes that I think are ongoing and iterative One of the things we hear all the time is that students would love more opportunities to take upper-level inquiry courses. So that shift in the level three requirements came in part because of that ongoing student feedback I find it hard to think of it as a new initiative It feels really, to me, like a kind of ongoing part of established processes of curricular enhancement.

CJ: That leads me to 1C06 How has it changed? You're in a weird position, teaching that first year course You're overseeing the whole program, but you're also in the trenches, for lack of a better word

BM: I love that part of it, to be honest I love teaching more than most things. And so that opportunity to be in the classroom, in a class that is a really amazing and generative learning experience for me, at least students might have other thoughts on it is super important I love being able to discuss the ideas with students and see what they come up with for Capstones, et cetera. And getting to really know everyone right from first year is wonderful

CJ: I wonder if it's challenging, especially because that course specifically, you learn how to critique the systems that you're a part of, and now you are the system they're critiquing Has that changed anything?

BM: I don't think so. As you note, we’re all already part of systems in any case And critique (by which I don’t only mean criticism), to me, is just a fundamental and important part of doing things, and doing things in ways that are working towards not only justice and equity, but also just doing things better. I feel like it is a fundamental approach that we should be bringing to everything And so the Directorship is just another context in which I might be involved in that happening I don't know what students would say about that, if they feel more or less able to engage in that kind of criticism with me holding two different roles, but yeah, for sure I'm all for discussion

CJ:What are you looking forward to next year?

BM: I’m looking forward to a lot of things I'm looking forward to those curriculum changes being rolled out and seeing how that all goes. What else am I looking forward to? It looks like I'm probably going to be teaching one of the Tech classes as well as 1C06 next year again, at least part of it, which is very exciting I’m also hoping there’s more space and time to follow up on some of the really cool, exciting ideas and initiatives that get brought to the surface by students and others in the program things like the film screening series we’re just barely starting this year We're trying to start stuff like that on a small scale, but hopefully we can do them in more expansive ways.

CJ: My, like, fun question was: if you could have anybody create an Artsci course?

BM: Anybody? Anybody? Does it have to be a new course, or could it be an existing course?

CJ: Yes, any course!

BM: I mean, my brain went to the media inquiry course, which hasn’t been taught for a long time I would say maybe Stuart Hall? He's dead, so that’s not going to happen anytime soon. But he's just an amazing media theorist Maybe he could be joined by someone cool, like a documentary filmmaker too Alanis Obomsawin That's what I'm going to say She's a fantastic Indigenous documentarian. There's tons of people, though. I mean, we just did a 1C06 class on transformative justice We were talking about abolitionist feminism and so I was reading Angela Davis again She'd be great

CJ: Call her up.

BM: Exactly Clearly whoever comes through my brain at a given point, I'm like, yeah, that'd be good I also love the faculty we have. I don't think we're missing out.

CJ: Anything else you’d like to broadcast? Often it's tough to make questions that isn't just like, ‘what's your advice?’ Advice feels hypocritical, almost, to give to students.

BM: I'm always happy to talk to people That's the way I would frame that Rather than saying, here's advice that fits for everyone, which is… who am I to say anything? People might have very different situations But I would like to listen and share whatever thoughts I have No, I don't have anything inspirational to say Just happy to have a chance to do whatever small bits I can to continue to contribute to the vitality of the program We'll put it that way

CJ: Very quotable Thank you

BM: Anything quotable out of my mouth at this time of year is a victory

CharlotteJohnston, LevelIV

time, slipping through my fingers

2020 04 28: for my friend it’s easy, being alone with you i could talk forever, or listen to the sound of your voice, your laugh forever feels too short but i’ll take all the time i can get with you (this is not a love poem)

2021 03 07: for always the stars are bright outside if i were brave i would climb onto the roof and bask under the night sky maybe a falling star would hear my wishes

2022 07 01: for anyone that cares I wish that it could just be enough the sprawl of my unfiltered thought crawling out of the cracks in my heart

2023.01.17: for my favourite cat i can’t imagine returning to a house with only two sets of paws padding over to the door to greet me no one to come over and sit at my feet and purr so loudly i can feel it in my chest

life is temporary but i wish i had five more lifetimes with you.

2023 01 29

2020.05.15: for myself there’s something achingly lovely about the quiet of the night being alone in the dark with only the stars awake when you finally wrench yourself away from the glow of the screen and you look up to see gentle light seeping through the window

listen to the cadence of your breathing a reminder that you’re still alive

2021 08 01: for my old home growing up and moving away and familiar things becoming unfamiliar

2022 11 26: for my grandma i’m as tall compared to you, as you were to younger me back when i still slept in your bed safe from nightmares

I'll go to bed soon,

2:57 a m is for the oldest South Asian sisters in university wondering if they made it

It’s for the South Asian girls who developed this fascination with the stars in the skies

And wishing on all of them for their brothers, fathers, and especially mothers

To wonder if your dreams were just an extension of hers

To cry knowing you couldn’t reach the finish line this time.

Forgetting at least you ran.

2:57 a m is for the oldest sisters stuck on this stupid stats problem, worried a door has just closed

Oh how you just crave the touch of amla and castor oil on your hair right now

Just by the press of her hand on your head, all your frustrations are gone today.

2:57 a m is the realization that somewhere along the way the bottle is in your kitchen, and she is 72 km away

72 km away to make illish maach, baath, and bortha

72 km to narrate some crazy life story before coming to Canada.

72 km away to argue

2:58 a m is when you get up for a snack and you investigate the fruit basket

You don’t take any of course because the bowl is in the cabinet and you're too lazy to get the knife.

Apologizing is too cheap in Bengali but apples with an onion aftertaste seem too expensive in Hamilton

Eventually it’s 3:00 a m and you’re back in your bed

The oldest sister didn’t want all this. She didn’t want all this responsibility

To learn to read tax forms before multiplication

To talk to the lady at Service Ontario before talking to her babysitter

Sometimes 3:00 a.m. is for the oldest sisters who question who they could be And nothing pops up

Because they know how to write the best essays, get the best internships, show the most love, and hide their thunderstorms on the brightest days

Now it’s 3:26 a.m. and she knows she has class the next day.

Brain buzzing, hands glued to her phone, eyes heavy

It’s3:56inthemorning

But of course we know, from one oldest sister to another, we’ll wake up for tomorrow. We always do

TasmiyaKhondoker, LevelII

As long as my thoughts go on

I love you with all my heart; if I hid it I’d be lying

But my foremost thoughts of you are loathsome; terrifying

I grit my teeth and claw my scalp although that’s nothing new I’ve designed a permanent crease between my eyebrows, just for you

Intrusive, conducive to all my worst fears; my Own Constructed Dread

As controllable as a cloud of sand the wind’s blown through my head

Belittling of my morals with no purpose but to offend

These thoughts forge vivid realities wholly demeaning of what I intend

When we share a heartfelt moment the warmth of our embrace is lined with frigid fear with which it soon will be replaced

Every good thing is invaded the second you’re through the door by images of your face between my boot and the bloodied floor

The arch of my foot twitches; my nape burns with regret

I tense to stay still, hold my breath to not kill, Numb just to settle the threat

The impulses tingle under the cold sweat to which I succumb My fingertips burn to hug your throat but I clench till my palms are numb

This urge is not denotative; It’s just a performance of mind in projecting the very worst images that it could possibly supply

It’s a testament to my affection this cyclical insanity:

The thoughts progress, I do more to suppress because you matter to me

It’s beautiful that I care for you so much that it conquers my brain But it’s wretched to be reminded through my aversion to your pain

But above the fear and shock

Before the alarming sensations

These thoughts’ intrusiveness is shadowed only by their iteration

They’re ceaseless, incessant, consistent, resistant to any relief or respite

Constant as clockwork, and so I must be the same to remind and recite:

These thoughts are not my fault. These thoughts won’t stay for long Just because I feel guilty doesn’t mean I’ve done something wrong

Before I understood them their intensity knocked me out Since I learned to live with them their subtlety wears me down

But I’d rather face the clockwork a heartbeat that exists

Constant palpitations over ignorance of bliss

So, bury me in ice or drain me of my blood

Force me to go cold, dare you to stop the neurotic buzz because

I choose to shake and sweat, to be always tense and stiff As long as my thoughts go on, my love for you persists

IshmeetJohal, LevelI

Ice cream sandwich for breakfast

I sometimes feel like a twelve-year-old boy

The reckless kind,

The one that blurts out things then realizes later that the word choice might be wrong,

The one that dresses in pjs 24/7, and the one that feels clueless and lost in this huge world

The child that so eagerly wants to accomplish so much but feels like a grain of sand in the lonely desert

The child that chases butterflies and believes one day he will reach the stars because no one ever told him no.

But the same child also worries there is too much to life and not enough time.

Everyone is the 12-year-old boy

The reckless child that screams and yells but shrinks from stepping on grass or flowers

The reckless child who so dearly wants to be heard, be seen, and be loved

The twelve-year-old boy that lives inside me continues to blossom, so full of hope, joy, and laughter.

He who is continuously being crushed by confusion, who is also blown away by the spark’s growth, lives inside us all

MaceyZhou, LevelI

ACorns have feelings too

ThispiecewaswrittencollaborativelybytheattendeesoftheMelangesocialonFebruary15th,2023.Attendees tookturnsaddingthreewordsatatimeuntilthepiecewascollectivelydeemedcomplete.

If I were a tiny acorn I would be falling through the canopy of leaves. I would fall forever and ever, much like the mental health of the squashed worm under review from the thesis committee And then I would crawl into a cave of my own thoughts, from which I’d emerge much stronger So I chose my oak form to be lanky and grow like a tree Periods of crippling depression happen from time to time, but they are mostly short-lived Joyful times are odious pomegranates manifesting as rings of the tree of life This tree grows like a largely insubordinate child who cries only under the milk processing constraints of their small, purple castle. And thus, acorns are born to be the most sinful and heroic of all nuts

AnitraBowmanetal.

collaborative mind map

ThispiecewascreatedcollaborativelybytheattendeesoftheMelangesocialonFebruary15th,2023 Attendeesrespondedtothequestion, "What'sthefirstthing(s)youwoulddoifyoucouldstoptime?"

A s i d e w a y s c o w a w a y

When I told you that I wished your city was a tiny bit closer to mine, That I wouldn’t have put them so far apart if it were up to me, I realized this is something I do often,

Carefully arranging the words I know how to say around the ones I really mean Raise your hand if I made you read Lucy Maud Montgomery

I’d like to live one sideways cow away from you when we grow old Just close enough to whisper about things that might be important, And move slugs off the pumpkins together; slug relocation is absolutely not a one-man job. Sorry... that doesn’t seem like where those words are meant to go, I guess I mean I’d like to always have you nearby.

I’ve been looking for a little frog to place in the palm of your hand, I’d give her a toasted walnut, so she doesn’t get hungry on the trip, And hope she tells you I’m working to get better at arranging my words Opening more windows and leaving less wiggle room

Raise your hand if I told you that I'll miss you, as you leave to get groceries

FlynnO'Dacre, LevelIII

JadynWestenberg, LevelII

Anzac cookies

1cuprolledoats

1cupflour

⅔cupbrownsugar• ⅔cupchoppedupcoconut•

125gchoppedbutter•

2TBSPgoldencornsyrup• ½tspbakingsoda•

Combineoats,flour,sugar,andcoconutinabowl

Placebutter,syrup,and2TBSPcoldwaterinasaucepanovermediumheat Stirfor2minsoruntilbutterismelted

It’s quite interesting thinking about a recipe’s history Did you get it from your parents, grandparents, allrecipes com, a cooking show, or maybe even an abandoned recipe box in a library? Anzac cookies, to me, aren’t from only one source. While I got the recipe online, the connection to, history of, and desire to make Anzac cookies came from my parents: born and raised in Aotearoa New Zealand Australia New Zealand Army Corps Both the cookie and the group of soldiers hail from WWI when their families wanted to create something that could be home-baked and still survive the shipping journey as far as the front line The result was a cookie that was nonperishable and solid in structure.

Stirthebakingsodaintothebutter,thenstirthebuttermixtureintotheoatmixture

RolllevelTBSPofmixtureintoballs Placeonpreparedtrays5cmapart Flattenslightlyandbakefor10-12mins,oruntillightlygolden

Cooking and baking play an odd and important role in the stories of history Nutrition, history, connection, stories: they’ve got it all! While the tools, ingredients, and recipes may have changed over time, the basic structure of making something lovely from individual items in fridges and pantries stays the same It’s remarkable how, standing in a kitchen with a mixing bowl and a wooden spoon, I can be so connected to generations before me. I guess that’s something interesting about food: we’ll always need it. So as long as people are eating and ingredients are available, we’ll be cooking Who knows, maybe something we make on a whim trying to scrounge together final meals before reading week, using ingredients loitering in fridges, will be passed down generations Immortalization through whimsy, necessity, creation Food transcends time

Preheatovento320˚F Linecookiesheetswithparchmentpaper

I started baking back when I was around 11, spurred on by my older sister’s short-lived baking blog It was a way for me to spend more time with her when we were so far apart in age My dad loves to cook As long as I can remember, he’s been making dinner almost every night and relishing the hours he spends in the kitchen or grocery store My mom is somewhat the opposite, not really cooking, partly because he loves it so much. She does make the best pavlova I’ve ever had though. That’s a recipe that needs time and effort

mostly patience, actually, and the willpower to not open the oven or else all the work you’ve put in will collapse into a flat disc of meringue As I’ve grown up, I’ve been baking less and cooking more The shift, I think, is mostly associated with being on my own There’s less time for fun and more need for necessity I guess food grows up with us

Standontraysfor5mins

Baking can both pass the time and freeze it Yes, it takes time when you could (or should) be doing something else, but you’ve made something that didn’t exist before in the meantime Baking, to me, is one of the most productive forms of procrastination What a delectable oxymoron Taking the time to focus on creation can be so refreshing In the kitchen, there is something tangible to be made, a time limit, and steps to follow. Even as a bonus, when you’re done, you’ll have a snack. Nothing jogs the mind like fresh baked goods And they’re your goods to bake You’ve taken time and shaped something from it I wonder why time is never included in the recipe list Well, maybe you can never truly take or waste time – only spend it

Transfertoawireracktocoolcompletely.Eatnoworsaveforanindefiniteamountoftime.They’llbewaiting,nonperishableasever.

TessMacdonald, LevelIII

Anchorage of time

What is life but the passing moments and memories which make up the mosaic of a man’s mind? Each rush of water in the stream is fleeting Still though, they form the river What would we be but the individual currents passing through the earth? Yes, we are only here for so long, but here we are nonetheless The ephemeral nature of our time on earth is what gives anchorage to our lives. The rock is held firm to the river-bed by the swirling tides around it. The people who float us by are set to their own course Yes, you may miss them, but no matter, you must cast them off We all have places to be, greater seas to flow into Yes, your volume may outgrow the bounds of what you know; let yourself flood the riverbanks And maybe the waters will grow unsteady, and the leaf shall be capsized But what would serenity be without uproar? The rushing and roaring and raging tidal torrents. Be careful please, these foundations may not keep you buoyant; try to come up for air, as you are gasping at the surface of your heart

GraemeLavrance, LevelI

Something they do not tell you

Something they do not tell you, is that you often find yourself drifting off down a side stream away from the central river Paddle as you might, you will nonetheless be let down the mountain at your own pace; maybe you will rejoin the current of saliency, maybe you will not

Something they do not tell you, is that you are just a tangent from the main argument. I.e., a footnote, of a footnote, of a footnote No, there is no central protagonist, least of all let it be you You are not nothing, you are just not the greatest something to exist in your time.

Something they do not tell you, is that our lives, like the universe, are not geocentric – and you are neither earth nor star. Still though, you do not revolve around a single sun; you are carried along with the gravity of the cosmic forces, being passed from star-to-star with abandon Nobody you know is central to your life, there is no foremost figure you can rely on throughout your time. Your brother and sister and kin; friends and lovers and passersby; your mother and your father and the good beasts who greet you: All of them shall one day leave you, eventually, for a reason entirely unique as they themselves are There is no way to predict how it might happen, with swiftness or slow unclenching terror; the manner in which they depart is left only in a premonition felt as a slight twinge in the wind. It is vain to be centred around yourself, and naive to centre yourself around another; and I am left feeling small in this unflinching universe

Something they do not tell you, is that periods of mourning and of joy do not restrain themselves like the Gregorian months of the year They come, and they go, however they choose. No one else is on the same schedule as you; some have lost their calendar. You walk along this road and you may meet others but they, too, will continue forth on their journey

Something they do not tell you, is that the one-year anniversary of your grandfather's death is the same day as someone else’s six-year wedding anniversary There is no great catharsis of the human experience The world does not stop to listen to your wails Gone is the great empathy of loss, lost as we accelerate beyond ourselves.

Something they do not tell you, is that you must embrace the changing of the leaves with the seasons Be careful to rake them into their brown paper bags as needed. Embrace these changes which will mark your life in stark contrast to those around you Embrace them or they will stack higher and higher until you cannot peer over them Careful now, embrace these things that shape you – don’t let them disfigure you – but don't let them consume you either. Look them directly in the eye before turning your head to gaze out to the setting sun across the hill Rise to face the next morning I know your hands hurt from tending to the plow I know your eyes grow weary from gazing towards the bright heavens in hope of salvation. I know your voice is getting fainter as you try to call out into the dark woods you have found yourself trapped within. I know the bench on which you sit grows harder with each passing minute

Still though, you must continue to search and to yell and to work and to rest and to eat and to love and to sit still and listen, even among all this loss you might encounter, and even if you are not the central motif of a greater tapestry; that, is what they do not tell you

JaydaHewitt, LevelII

Perhaps the only Infinity is the void

A young child, a neonate, A neologic or nativity in nightless dark A nuisance to the starless sky–If the sky existed at all, But instead it falls, or perhaps has fallen Like a single speck of pollen in a midnight field of dandelions. It's a ragdoll, Blind and bound by senselessness, It's a child of captivity to the content of its own creation With its narration nuanced as the eclipse between two atoms. It is atomic in the sense of anatomical demise, For it splices and divides the defined into derivative sized intervals of displacement, Misplaced mistakes in a mirror-shaped mirage of the marriage between the obscure and the objective; This child is left without perspective

For they cannot see, They cannot light the matches, hug the light that carries the tiniest particles of life: The visual evidence of time They cannot hear, They cannot scream They cannot do much more than dream, Wondering if their dream is a demon seeking devastation or a dissertation into the only certainties that can exist Thus, this is reality in the abyss

No change, no utterance of motion, no bliss No ease amongst the waves, for no waves ease against a wind That does not exist

And with this, the sails of insanity are filled instantaneously with gusts of griping grief Because when there is no light left to keep, There is no night during which to sleep No rest left to seek, So the child tears like a seamless wreck, Breaking and spouting and shouting into the airless endless era. Piercing only the peril of perfect nothingness

For if nothing changes, Then nothing ages. And nothing writes the story of life, Thus no one turns its pages

For if birth of thee is the birth of time Then from the child’s cry to corpse, There is no casualty nor crime, But neither is there growth, Nor death to see, nor hands to hold. Nor ripples to watch, nor whispers to follow Nor wants to desire, nor sparks to start fire, Nor music to dance, nor dances to speak of, For there are no voices in the dark; No speakers who orate the awful tale Of how death became a favour, For there was no witness to its breath, Only darkness had its last air to savour.

JackGillies, LevelI

The seeds of the

I slip though the universe’s folds Like a gardener gathering seeds

A bee pollinating flowers I collect the secrets of the stars and black holes and meteors and planets to bring back and make something new

I drift without direction for a millisecond or a hundred thousand years

I to avoid the comets hurtling by duck I twist to prevent rocks from hitting me sky all out of the pick them to I reach

placing them gently in my pockets

Sometimes they don’t stay that way disappearing as the time shifts again and they are called elsewhere

Sometimes they grow bigger and bigger than my pockets could ever hold and they burst out and I must let them go

universe

Sometimes they react to a shift in climate or another placed in a pocket too close and they explode or meld or are propelled closer farther

That’s part of it

Universes aren't easy things

They’re unpredictable wild unchanging stubborn beautiful impermanent limitless great terrible vast absurd empty incomprehensible destruction timeless expanding forever

That’s part of it

why I love it

why I do it

I bring them back somewhere the ones that remain and I let them go

And the universe its thing does

AlyssaAbush, Level I

the Trauma of being born

i have about two days’ worth of existential crises in me every year i fritter away one in brief moments when it’s too dark or i haven’t talked to anyone in a few hours or someone’s a little bit mean to me or nothing at all

but the rest is spent on a cold winter day usually starts at midnight lying in bed awake

thinking of how it’s like christmas and how both have lost their luster as i solemnly congratulate myself and add one it’s never a bad day often it’s good better food surrounded by family a lingering whimsy something sweet

but there’s a dread in the back of my mind storm clouds gathering on the horizon

i convince myself today is not important as if that makes it better

i await it now in silence in growing despair as though it is the end of things two decades and still it takes so much effort to see past a cold winter day

it is hardly an end it is far worse

i am not so desperate to seek an end but continuing is a suffering of its own past that cold winter day there is another and another and however many more i have and i’m right when i say that day is not important

no different than the rest and not much changes that day other than a number

but it doesn’t make it better my heart still aches knowing i am fleeting i find pain in the meaningless ritual of changing a number

i find pain every time my mother tells me how much i was wanted

i find pain every time i realize that i wish to do the same

i find pain when i lie down that winter night and affirm as ever that nothing has changed other than a number

when it was zero my little heart was broken my mind shattered with the weight of existence my soul brought into painful focus

and i could have it no other way even joyless even suffering there is no avoiding that trauma

but i still find myself placing hope in some cold winter day that this time it will bring something different than the last for if that day were truly no different i would not need to justify my indifference

LukeFancott, Level I

APRIL FOOLS' DAY

Water plants (and yourself, you are definitely dehydrated)

Easter monday (find the eggs, look suprised)

go to the gym for the first time since before reading week (definitely not to avoid studying for exams.. definitely)

Indig critical reflection paper due Stats assignment #5 due

Globaljusticefinal assignmentdue

Lock self in room with snacks and computer

Adjust exam study schedule to accountfor your procrastination so far

Calc final Stats final

Exploring hamilton paper due

Passover starts

LAST DAY OF CLASSES Global challenges poster reflection due Calc communication assignment due SPT final essay due Stats project due

Argfinal Education inquiry essay/project due

Tech II final World intellectualproperty day (don't ask me how I know this)

Indig reading group peer eval due

Take a long nap

Good friday" NO CLASSES! (but also the physics project is due)

EXAMS

START

Taurus season begins :)

Physics final

Give up on study schedule Start cramming

Take another long nap

Eat leftover cookies

Make exam study schedule and swear you will stick to it this time

Global challengescapstone essay due

Videgames final project due

Indig final

Earth day

EXAMS

Global challenges capstone poster due

Easter sunday (hide some eggs)

Frantically clean room toavoidstudying for exams

Stress bake six dozen cookies

END Goodbye artsci <3