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What Grinds Our Gears: Charity campaigns at the checkout

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The photo of a cashier’s hands, near the cash till, as they are printing a receipt.
PHOTO: Simon Kadula / Unsplash

By:  Petra Chase, Features Editor

I recently moved close to a Walmart and inevitably find myself there for essentials. Every time, I’m asked if I want to add a donation onto my bill. This seems like a convenient way for shoppers to make a small difference, with wallets already open. It’s typically only a couple dollars — much less than the five perishable items that somehow came to a whopping $38 being held hostage at the register. But I’m shopping at Walmart because of the rising cost of groceries, like the low-income families that have always been Walmart’s main customer base. So why is the colossal enterprise that made $175 billion in profits last year (in the fiscal year of October 2024 to October 2025) asking us if we want to help make a difference? 

Walmart proudly announces they have donated millions of dollars to charities like the Children’s Miracle Network, Canadian Red Cross, and Breakfast Club Canada. Giant corporations like Walmart should absolutely be supporting local charities, but this money should come from their own hoarded pockets rather than scavenged from the customers they’re already milking profits from. 

Being sprung this question in an overstimulating environment as the conveyor belt moves the next person’s items towards the edge adds to the pressure. In the quick-moving conveyor belt, the ensuing fight or flight may cause you to feel like the greediest person alive for not sparing two dollars to “end world hunger.” But a simple response is available: “I don’t donate through Walmart.” When you donate to organizations and fundraising campaigns directly, you can be intentional about supporting causes that you care about, without unintentionally being a part of Walmart’s deceptive charitable branding. You also get tax credits later on. So, let’s make intentional giving the norm in 2026.

Three music platforms for a better listening experience

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A phone open to the Qobuz app, plugged into wired headphones, playing the song "Everything is free" by Gillian Welch
PHOTO: Elliott Marquis / The Peak

By:  Heidi Kwok, Staff Writer 

The onset of the 2000s ushered in the birth of online streaming, driven by small tech startups who would become the exploitative media monopolies we have today. An unsettling prediction of this grim dystopia is Gillian Welch’s 2001 song “Everything is Free,” which expresses her despair towards what the internet would mean for musicians’ livelihoods. 25 years later, Welch couldn’t have been more on the mark. Spotify, the global music streaming giant with over 700 million monthly users, is perhaps the worst culprit, underpaying artists with skimpy royalties that vary between $0.003 and $0.004 USD per stream. This abysmally low rate makes them among some of the lowest-paying music streaming platforms available out there, right next to Apple Music. 

In April 2024, Spotify came under further controversy, requiring tracks to exceed 1,000 streams before being eligible for royalty payments, to the detriment of independent artists with smaller audiences. Royalties that should have gone to their rightful creators instead end up in the pockets of former CEO Daniel Ek, who accumulated $345 million in one year. These earnings surpassed those of even the most-streamed artists on the platform. Worse yet, in 2025, Ek’s venture capital firm invested $600 million euros in AI weapons systems company Helsing. Spotify also reportedly donated $150,000 USD to President Donald Trump’s inauguration ceremony.

With Spotify’s extensive rap sheet, many have called for their boycott. Sharing the same sentiment, I’ve decided to explore three music listening alternatives with more equitable compensation models, whether you’re streaming or owning.

Tidal

Tidal is an “artist-first, fan-centered music streaming platform that delivers over 110 million songs” — 10% more than Spotify. This streaming contender offers one of the highest artist payouts at $0.013 USD per stream, far outpacing competitors like Amazon Music and Apple Music. In terms of pricing, individual plans run for $10.99 per month, with student plans being half the price. A unique feature of Tidal’s paid plans is subscribers can choose to opt in for a DJ Extension at an additional monthly cost of $9. This add-on allows users to access and mix Tidal’s music catalogue via integrations with professional DJ software such as rekordbox and serato.

Upon creating an account and a free 30-day trial, I was immediately given the option to transfer my music (including artists and playlists) from other streaming platforms, including Spotify, Apple Music, iTunes, Amazon Music, and YouTube Music, to Tidal using a third-party service called TuneMyMusic. A one-time fee is charged for transfers of over 500 tracks. If you only need a one-time transfer, you must buy a monthly premium plan (at $7.60 CAD), then immediately cancel the subscription once you’ve conducted all necessary transfers. 

Playing around with the audio options and selecting the highest sound quality (HiRes FLAC) flooded my ears with a rich and crystal-clear tone.

For years, I attributed Spotify’s poor audio quality to my cheap, crappy headphones, but the truth is that Spotify’s audio quality is just embarrassingly bad.

Exploring the platform, I quickly noticed Tidal’s proactivity when it came to giving credit where it’s due. Have you ever wondered who were the instrumentalists and sound engineers responsible for your favourite track? Tidal sets album credits front and center with a simple click of the album cover art (Spotify, in contrast, tends to sweep the credits behind a long-winded navigation path). 

Tidal also presents a significant departure from Spotify’s emphasis on popularity ranking. On Tidal, listening statistics (or “plays”) are eliminated from artists’ profile pages, whereas Spotify displays artists’ “monthly listeners” metric, as if being top of the charts was more important than artistic merit. 

Bandcamp

Bandcamp is an online music store that connects artists with fans with the mission of supporting “artists equitably so that they can keep making music.” While Bandcamp does not release public financial reports, the store claims that an average of 82% of fan payments goes back to the artists and their labels. For all sales on physical and digital items, Bandcamp charges a revenue fee of 10% to 15%, respectively, in addition to a payment processor fee that varies between 4% and 6%. 

Bandcamp offers a unique browsing experience with personalized pages for each artist and label, where fans can purchase entire music catalogues, limited merchandise such as vinyls and apparel, and engage with community board messages posted by artists. Users can listen to tracks for free — although some artists stick to short previews as samples — before deciding to make a purchase. Once a purchase is made, customers can download their music in audio formats such as MP3, or for those who are more attuned to the obscure world of sound mixing and production: FLAC, ALAC, AAC, Ogg Vorbis, WAV, and AIFF formats. 

With the rise of AI-generated music and algorithms, Bandcamp’s anti-AI stance is refreshing. “Bandcamp is not built to break you as an artist,” general manager Dan Melnick told MusicTech. “I think our business model is very well positioned for the age of AI. If the streaming world gets flooded with AI music, then it reduces the pie for living musicians.”

In an era where subscriptions reign supreme, and consumers have scarce opportunity to truly “own” their favourite media, Bandcamp is great for those who want full control and permanent ownership over their music. It can also be a more accessible way of owning than traditional CDs and vinyl records. Keep in mind that purchased music can be accessed through Bandcamp’s app (which includes a feature for offline listening), but cannot be added “directly to Apple’s Music app due to limitations imposed by Apple.”

Radiooooo

Radiooooo — alternatively known as the “musical time machine” — is an app that takes listeners across both space and time. Well . . . not literally, of course, but through a worldwide radio platform livestreaming tracks from countries around the globe and spanning multiple decades of the 20th and 21st centuries. Launched in 2013, the platform began as a passion project created by a group of music-loving friends. At its core, Radiooooo is a collaborative, user-curated music player driven by discovery rather than algorithms. An unpaid account only gives you listening access to ten countries and four decades, so for full access, you’d want to consider opting-in for a premium plan at $6.90 CAD per month.

Radiooooo’s user interface can best be described as a blend between Google Earth’s interactive globe and retrofuturistic design elements, featuring clunky yet charming analog-style buttons set against a backdrop of bold primary colours. Unlike the sleek, minimalist UI of platforms like Spotify or Tidal, Radiooooo deliberately rejects overly sterile neofuturistic designs. Instead, it embraces an analog aesthetic that evokes the nostalgia and optimism associated with the space-age cultural movement of the mid-1950s to early 1970s — a period when faith in technology and visions of a utopian future were widespread. The result is a highly immersive listening experience centred around the unexpected.

After comparing three Spotify alternatives, how do you ultimately decide which service aligns best with your listening habitats and values? Here’s my final verdict: Tidal is best for those seeking familiarity, with an interface nearly identical to Spotify’s, though it may not suit those who prefer listening to podcasts, as Tidal appears to be purely music-focused for now. Bandcamp is perfect for supporting artists directly through the purchase of physical or digital music, though the selection is not as large as Tidal or Spotify. Conversely, Radiooooo is your go-to for those eager to step outside their comfort zone and expand their musical horizons. There are also other music streaming options out there, like Qobuz and Deezer, which I did not get the chance to review but are worth checking out.

NTKNTG: Events for the late winter

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PHOTO: Adi K / Pexels

By: Sarah Venkatesh, SFU student

A performance of Legally Blonde

Evergreen Cultural Centre 

1205 Pinetree Way, Coquitlam, BC 

January 1517, 7:30 p.m.

January 18, 3:00 p.m.

January 2124, 7:30 p.m.

Cost: $2530, $18 for upper seats

Stage 43 Productions is bringing Legally Blonde to life right in one of Vancouver’s most popular theatres. Whether students are fans of the movie, or want to see a musical for the first time, the classic story of Elle Woods comes to life in this performance. Students can purchase a ticket for $25 through Stage 43’s website or in-person at the venue; however, the organizers are offering a special discount of $20 tickets, only for January 21

 

Ballet BC’s INFINITY program

Queen Elizabeth Theatre

630 Hamilton St, Vancouver, BC

February 2628, 7:30 p.m.

February 28, 1:30 p.m.

Cost: Ticket prices may range

For those interested in contemporary performances and pieces, Crystal Pite’s Frontier and Jiří Kylián’s 27’52” are bringing their work to the Queen Elizabeth Theatre. These performances feature experienced dancers from Ballet BC’s INFINITY program. Tickets range from $19 to $195, depending on how soon students purchase and the seating time. Those that have subscribed to Ballet BC can guarantee 20% off ticket prices, including other perks, such as early access, free ticket exchanges, and priority service. This is a great opportunity to enjoy phenomenal theatrical nuance performed by a talented team. 

 

Lafarge Lake Christmas Lights

1299 Pinetree Way, Coquitlam, BC

November 28–February 16, 4:00 p.m.

Cost: Free

Lafarge Lake hosts the largest free light display in Metro Vancouver every year until February 16, perfect for those that want to spend a fun night out without paying. Those visiting can explore the lights from dusk until 11:30 p.m. daily, although it is recommended to visit on the weekdays or from 6:00 to 8:00 p.m. to avoid large crowds. Lafarge Lake’s lights include festive zones and installations, and food trucks and warm drinks are also available!

 

Destination Downtown

Various locations across downtown Vancouver

December 1–February 28, times vary according to activity

Cost: Varies depending on activities

Although the winter break is over, Vancouver’s own winter festival, known as Destination Downtown, is still running until February 28. The festival includes a Ferris wheel located at the Vancouver Art Gallery North Plaza, free ice skating (with a $5 rental fee) at Robson Square, and live entertainment. Students are recommended to use public transit, since it can be difficult to find parking and some of the events are located near Waterfront Station and accessible with bus routes.

Enemy Alien: Tamio Wakayama at the Vancouver Art Gallery

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PHOTOS: Jamal Allad / The Peak

By: Noeka Nimmervoll, Staff Writer

Enemy Alien: Tamio Wakayama is on display at the Vancouver Art Gallery from October 3, 2025, to February 22, 2026. Curated by Paul Wong, this postmortem solo exhibition of the photographer Tamio Wakayama features collections from a career spanning over 50 years before his death in 2018. Wakayama was born in 1941, a time of aggressive discrimination against Japanese Canadians by the Canadian government, with around 21,000 people detained and dispossessed, many of whom were forced into internment camps. Japanese Canadian prisoners were labelled “enemy aliens” due to rampant racial prejudice and political fear of a Japanese invasion. Furthermore, the government seized their possessions, homes, and businesses, sold them to pay for the costs of their internment, and never returned them to their original owners. In exploring injustice and discrimination against his community, Wakayama turned to photography, launching his first foray into activism.

Wakayama photographed and participated in many political events throughout his life — including the Civil Rights Movement and the redress movement of Japanese Canadians. He also embarked on personal journeys for meaning and connection, which became an integral part of his work and life. The exhibition featured his memoir, Soul on Rice, now published posthumously via the Vancouver Art Gallery, as well as a film entitled Between Pictures: The Lens of Tamio Wakayama (2024) by multidisciplinary artist Cindy Mochizuki. After a visit to the gallery, I hereby share my musings.  

The gallery is quiet on the eyes when you enter, black and white, the only colour in the room being a violent red with these words: Enemy Alien Tamio Wakayama. I began viewing photograph upon photograph of this man’s work. Even with these harsh words in mind, I began to see the world through the eyes of a man who loved people. His photos, beginning with his time with Black communities in the South, captured the tangible tension of the time, as well as the joy, resilience, and wisdom of the African American community there. Some images evoked a warmth of community and life-in-motion, while others captured the raw, tumultuous spirit in every individual of a crowd. It occurred to me that pictures like his can only be taken when the photographer, and the camera, are accepted by the community.

The exhibition displayed many of Wakayama’s journeys on his lifelong fight for social justice. He photographed Indigenous life in Saskatchewan, the struggle of Doukhobors maintaining their traditions in BC, anti-war protests in Ontario, and more. On one personal journey, he visited Japan and captured scenes of families cooking, strangers mingling in parks, communities planting trees, and people enjoying life. These photographs were often composed around a single person in a group, capturing them in a candid moment of simple pleasure and living. Some of his other works were much more dramatic. He later became the official photographer of the Powell Street Festival in Vancouver and served this post for almost twenty years. His photographs from this time are filled with action and captured a thriving community in moments of intense focus, flow, and fun. 

The story of Japanese Canadians isn’t told enough, and such a remarkable life and career as Wakayama’s is long overdue for its time in the spotlight.

He was a resilient activist and artist, devoted to pursuing justice, who searched grandly for community in a world hostile to his existence, and seemed to have found it, time after time.

I am in love with the tenderness and humanity that is so prominent in his work and displayed at this exhibition, and my visit to Enemy Alien inspired me to continue my own work for a community in the place that I call home, and beyond.

#InfluencerQueen: Rating my 2025 achievements

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PHOTO: Zulfugar Karimov / Unsplash

By: Zainab Salam, Influencer of Influencers

Hey, girlies! Life’s so interesting and hectic as a baddie influencer. This past year has been a year of many successes. I think I smashed it, to be honest. Everyone should follow my lead. 

I want to say that I can’t believe it, but like, I already lived it . . . the Met Gala was iconic on so many levels. I got to bump shoulders with everyone who is someone (and at least three people who pretended not to know who I was #rude). The vibes were immaculate. I got to browse racks upon racks of 70% off bags like there’s no tomorrow. The liquidation theme of the event was superbly executed. And it was like, totally awesome. I think it was revolutionary to hold such a prestigious event in Surrey! #MetGala2025 #MetGalaInSurrey #OnlyCoolPeopleGetInvited #YouWishYouWereMe

My Met Gala experience taught me that I can have a seat at the table. Prior to the invitation, I thought I was just a small content creator, with no following. But the event changed the trajectory of my life. I now know that even celebrities use plastic folding tables! #WhoKnew

Another career highlight was being there for Tay Tay. Photographing her engagement to her football beau, a true dream came true! I think my photos were aesthetic and totally matched their vibes. The raccoons sneaking in the background of the photos truly made their engagement photos to die for. Haters say that she was Temu Taylor, but back off!!! Taylor LOVES Stanley Park. #DreamCouple #IAmAPhotographerNow #TotallyProfessional #NothingIsAsRomaticAsAPublicParkProposal #PPPForTheWin

All the likes and comments that my photos received catapulted me to a prestigious clientele — and they have given me great ideas for my 2026 New Year’s resolution! I will finally respond to the message requests from so many people requesting that I photograph their engagements to their Nigerian princes (omg there are so many of them!!). Unfortunately, in the past, I had to decline them all because I didn’t have time for anyone — I was focusing on my career as a stay-at-home daughter. And I didn’t actually have a camera. And the job market is kinda down. 

To the cousin who won’t stop questioning that I’m Taylor Swift’s engagement photographer: Don’t doubt me, Adam! I always knew you didn’t like me; I just didn’t think you would take your dislike to this level. I’m gonna tell your parents about it at the next family gathering.  

Overall, 2025 me showed initiative, confidence, and an inspiring resistance to criticism. Haters tried to get me many times throughout the year, but I was resilient! Every hateful comment left under my Insta posts was reported. I hit every hater that tried me with a block, block, block.

To be hella honest, I would rate 2025 with a 10 out of 10. Everything I did was great. I broke the stereotype of SFU girlies not being invited to the Met Gala. And I became the first ever SFU student to have trended on social media with the #IsSheBeingForReal? 

So here’s to an even better 2026. Although I’m not sure how I, or anyone for that matter, could top my 2025 achievements . . . 

The Peak investigates: Students falling down the stairs from Blusson Hall to the AQ

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PHOTO: Aitore Zholmukhan / The Peak

By: Heidi Kwok, Investigative Journalist-In-Training

As a wannabe-investigative journalist, I was determined to follow in the footsteps of my predecessors at The Peak Investigates column. Thus, donning my fedora, beige-coloured trench coat, and with one too many coffee enemas in my system, I ventured out from the bowels of The Peak office to solve a very complex (yet seemingly straightforward) case

After making my way to the AQ, I squeezed my way into the long table near Renaissance Coffee to begin my observations. The case was simple enough: recently, an unusually high number of students have been reported falling down the stairs that connect the AQ to Blusson Hall. Sources say that people have been too busy texting and scrolling on their phones to notice the 50-foot drop right in front of them. However, I was unconvinced surely, this bright and highly-educated group of youths would know to keep their eyes peeled forward to watch where they’re going. Right?

Target #1: The clueless first-year

The first person to fall victim to the stairs was a first year speeding down the hallway, glasses askew, backpack slung haphazardly over one shoulder, its unzipped-compartment trailing behind a mess of crumpled-up class syllabuses. “Where is that damn lecture hall?” Distracted by the SFU room finder app, they almost made it down the stairs unscathed until one misplaced step sent their arms flailing like a windmill. For one glorious second, they soared like a bird before diving downwards, landing in a crumpled, defeated heap at the base of the stairs. Ouch. 

Target #2: The repeat offender

This one was easy to spot. Given the way they hung onto the handrails for dear life as they analyzed the stairwell with a concentration that world-class mountaineers reserve only for climbs as perilous as Mount Everest — this was far from their first rodeo. “You’re not getting me this time,” they muttered under their breath, and as if to prove their point, they brandished two sets of sling and carabiner, clipping one end to the rails and the other to the harness across their waist. They slipped on a pair of rock climbing shoes, secured on a helmet, before slowly beginning their descent. This was going to take a while . . . 

Target #3, 4, 5, 6, 7 . . . : The campus tour group

An hour later, and while still observing the rock (or stair) climber who had made it almost halfway down, a chorus of animated voices started drifting from above. “. . . And this,” announced a student tour guide decked out in SFU merch, “is one of the seven archaeological wonders of Canada: the Saywell Hall Atrium!” Her enthusiasm was met with a round of “oohs” and “ahhs,” as the prospective students whipped out their phones and excitedly snapped selfies. “Now folks, please direct your atten . . . aaughhhhhh!!!” The guide, with her back turned, failed to see the impending drop. Fortunately, her hands managed to find purchase on a nearby structural support. Unfortunately, that support turned out to be a member of the tour. In an effort to help the guide, the entire group also surged toward the ledge. The aftermath was almost elegant, as the tour group spiralled, spun, and flew down the stairs, one after another, like a synchronized Olympic diving team. The illusion was unfortunately broken when the rock climber cried out in desperation as one of the prospective students took them along for the fall.

A couple days later, a sandwich board appeared overnight, telling passersby to put their hands on the handrails of the stairs rather than using their phones. It appears my work here is done — the mystery behind students falling down the stairs can be chalked up to pure student-ness. 

 

Calls emerge for increased program funding for BC sex workers

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A woman’s lower body is pictured in black and white while her face is cropped out. The lighting is serious. The woman’s arm is crossed over onto her shoulder, and she looks off to the side.
PHOTO: Levin Anton / Unsplash

By: Niveja Assalaarachchi, News Writer

On December 16, 2025, 10 organizations — including sex worker-led groups, feminist organizations, and First Nations groups — released a statement marking the International Day to End Violence against Sex Workers. In their statement, the groups called for the provincial government to increase funding for programs serving BC sex workers. 

The push comes amid a crisis in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside, where centres serving unhoused women, those who face gender-based violence, and support for substance use are closing. In July, the PACE Society, a drop-in centre in the area, permanently closed down. In February, the WISH Drop-In Centre closed temporarily. Most recently, The Tyee reported that the Kingsway Community Station, Vancouver’s last drop-in centre for sex workers, was on the brink of closing as a result of funding changes tied to the City of Vancouver’s 2026/27 budget

In their press release, the groups noted that these centres are essential, given the mobile outreach, peer occupational health, and safety training services they provide. “We have seen first-hand sex worker-serving organizations having to close or reduce services over the past year and how detrimental this is to sex workers who need these programs day to day,” said the organization Living in Community. These centres are also essential amid the increasing prevalence of gender-based violence — violence which has seen a 54% increase in Canada since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic

The Peak spoke with Kaley Merritt, a mental health advocate at the Downtown Eastside Women’s Centre, on the impacts that the province’s cuts have had on sex workers and services. The Downtown Eastside Women’s Centre provides services to the sex worker community, such as temporary shelter spaces, recreation, and self-help assistance. Merritt noted that her shelter serves an average of 500 people a day — an increase of 200 people compared to the previous year. “There’s been a real demand on services, being that we are one of the organizations that are still operating in the Downtown Eastside,” she said. Merritt said the demand for increased services comes alongside increasing mental health struggles that are more noticeable among sex workers.

In BC, certain aspects of sex work are illegal — specifically, the ability for people to purchase sex services. However, it is permissible, in narrow instances, for sex workers to offer services. Merritt noted that the nature of how the province governs sex work has left many in the dark about how it applies in reality. She said this, along with the stigma that comes with their employment, makes sex workers hesitant to look into support services. 

The joint statement urged the government to pay attention to how these effects and the closures are tied to the criminalization of sex work: “We cannot accept the violence perpetrated against sex workers being minimized or overlooked,” as “continued closures, underfunding, and service reductions in the context of ongoing criminalization are putting sex workers’ lives at risk,” stated the press release. Andrea Krüsi, principal investigator at the research project An Evaluation of Sex Workers’ Health Access, stated, “Decades of peer-reviewed evidence highlight how criminalization undermines health equity and human rights of sex workers.”

Merritt noted that decriminalization reform “would really put a lot of autonomy in sex workers’ hands and reduce fear and open up possibilities.” She said, “Sex workers would really get a voice to decide what is it that they need and how can we come together to create different things that protect sex workers.” 

As for concerns around the shelters themselves, Merritt said more people seeking services that are gradually closing down put “a lot of financial strain” on her shelter. “It’s been difficult to maintain staff and carry on with a lot of the other supports and services that we need.”

For these compounding reasons, organizations like the Downtown Eastside Women’s Centre called on the provincial government to “allocate stable and enhanced funding for critical programs serving sex workers, following many existing recommendations, including those contained in the Final Report of the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women,” the final report of the Missing Women’s Commission of Inquiry, and the province’s gender-based violence action plan. “We often see that marginalized populations face the most impact from a lot of this, and they are very connected to one another,” said Merritt. “There’s a lot of systemic harm that falls into all of this. So, when we’re looking at sex worker issues, we’re also looking at Indigenous populations, BIPOC populations, [and] disabled populations.” 

When it comes to discussions centred around helping sex workers and tackling gender-based violence, Merritt said,

“It’s always important to remember that sex workers are people. They are human beings. They are mothers, daughters, sons — they’re people just like any of us. Sex workers deserve dignity and respect.”

— Kaley Merritt, mental health advocate, Downtown Eastside Women’s Centre

Brighter Side: music nostalgia

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a black and white photo of a stack of CDs on top of a CD player.
PHOTO: KIBOCK DO / Unsplash

By: Zainab Salam, Opinions Editor

Art has a way of preserving time. My favourite albums are basically an auditory photograph of what life was like when they were on repeat; music is a time capsule. Lately, I’ve been packing up my room for a move, and I stumbled upon my collection of CDs that included my favourite songs and my stay-up-all-night companions. Like plenty do while going through their items, I had to listen to some of them. So, I metaphorically and literally wiped the layer of dust that coated my far too-long-neglected shelved memories. And oh my god. Nostalgia hit me like a wave — swept me back in time to revisit all my past crushes, and all my now-dead friendships. 

There’s a melancholy in this kind of nostalgia. Music can remind us of what we once were before all of our hopes and aspirations were buried under piles of responsibilities that appear never-ending. But music does more than recall moments; music echoes the past into the present. As cultural historian Jeremy Eichler suggests, music can act as an emotional bridge to the past, carrying forward the resonance of lived experiences in ways that facts or photos alone cannot. In other words, music allows our past self, for a brief while, to interlock itself to our current selves. For a moment, we stand in front of past selves and dialogue. 

Clichés contain pearls of human wisdom

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a girl lying down on her bed, in a room that is slightly messy. There are three posters on the wall that read: live, laugh, love.
ILLUSTRATION: Olivia Blackmore / The Peak

By: Noeka Nimmervoll, Staff Writer 

The question of “what do I do with my life?” seems to occupy the psyche of many people. Which isn’t odd considering the relevance of existential questions and their resulting answers on shaping the trajectories of our lives. As we get older, we start to realize that nobody really knows what they’re doing. How do we find meaning in this vast continuum that we call life? One method that I’ve found to figure out the answer is through clichés like live, laugh, love. We all love to harp on the white mom who has found comfort in a cursive sign boasting this statement, but there really is something to this message. 

On a personal level, figuring out what’s important in my life has been difficult, but the answer came to me in a rather casual, non-academic setting: sitting at the bar talking with my friends. Laughing, enjoying others’ company, relaxing after work. That’s when the epiphany hit me: it really is just live, laugh, love! How corny, I know. 

It’s unfortunate that clichés have gained a negative reputation as phrases that are overused, and indicate a lack of original thought from the speaker or writer. Of course, there may be cases where this is true. If you’re to declare that your New Year’s resolution is to get fit and be healthier, you don’t want to hear someone tell you, “Well, actions speak louder than words.” You just want that person to hush. However, it seems that oftentimes they don’t understand the meaning behind the clichés that they hear, leading to undeserved judgment. However, clichés can be a tool of incredible insight into the human condition if they are understood. Instead of rolling your eyes at home decor that proudly boasts live, laugh, love, consider why this phrase has become immortalized in our context. 

Ignorance is bliss is another phrase that echoed around me many times in childhood, and now provides me with a different perspective on aging and knowledge — and makes me jealous of my baby cousin. But it also makes me grateful for my childhood, even the times where I was utterly lost and confused. Part of understanding the meaning behind clichés is getting older and experiencing life.

Clichés are a fascinating subsection of speech that provide a log of common human thoughts throughout history.

If you ever want insight into your circumstances, it might help you to know what the common consensus is.

PR-lady from athletics department holds mandatory teach-in on why football is problematic

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PHOTO: Dave Adamson / Unsplash

By: An unsuspecting student

I was walking to the bus loop after a long day of classes when a shadowy pink and yellow figure suddenly appeared out of nowhere. A bag was then shoved over my head and my hands were zip-tied together. All I could smell was Chanel No. 10 Eau de Toxique Florale Gaz — don’t ask me how I know. The next thing I knew, I felt myself being pulled in all directions and down endless steps before finally coming to a stop. I heard a door creak open eerily. Someone then grabbed my shoulders and plopped me into a seat. 

When the bag came off my head, I found myself in a cramped and dimly lit lecture hall packed with hundreds of trembling undergrads. I was trying to gather my thoughts when a high-pitched voice rang out. I traced it to a blond woman in a pink blazer, peering out from behind a dilapidated podium.

“Helloooo my lovelies! My name is Tiffannee, with two f’s and two e’s, and I’m the new public relations manager for SFU’s athletics department. Thank you for voluntarily attending this talk about why it’s time to abolish college football!” I suddenly knew where I was. It was an SFU propaganda event dedicated to self-affirming their decision to get rid of the football team. 

Tiffannee beamed. “Now, as most of you know, the university officially ended the football program earlier this year, and I’m here to address why football no longer has a place in higher education. Football has literally been giving major #DestroyingTheEarthCore vibes since day one.” 

An overhead projector flickered to life. The words: Football — It’s Giving No More Hot Girl Winters appeared alongside a stock photo of a football helmet next to the earth on fire. Tiffannee began shuffling through her cue cards. “First off, we must protect our precious environment. Who knew tackling opponents at 100 km per hour would emit more carbon dioxide than the entire university combined? Yes, that’s right! Traumatic brain injuries are just not in this season. SFU wants to nurture academic success not the destruction of the ozone!” Blank expressions plastered the faces of the unwilling audience.“I’m an environmental science major,” a voice echoed from across the room. “What about the fact that we leave all of the lights on in our buildings? Doesn’t that account for more emissions than a little old football? In fact, where’s the science there . . . ” The person was then suddenly dragged out of their chair and out of the room. “Let’s get back to this informative session! I love this!” someone called out. 

“Yaaaas, thank you Todd! But the real problem here? The fact that football helmets are made from plastic. And plastic comes from digging wells or whatever. And wells? They’re bad for the environment, babes. This clearly points to a reasonable explanation as to why SFU would get rid of the program — because we love the environment! Even though we still invest in fossil fuel companies — UGH who put that on my cue cards??? Anyways, live, laugh, breathe the fresh air at SFU!” The same voice shouted from the audience: “Yeahhh! We love the environment!” 

“That’s right, Todd. You love everything except for me. Ugh. And moving ooonnn, football is just distracting. Pushups, burpees, bicep curls? 6:00 a.m. laps at the stadium? Noooo thanks. Just imagine how much more time players could spend on pesky coursework instead of dislocating knees and spraining ankles.

“Last thing, school spirit has gone completely out of hand.” A photo of a group of maple leaves wearing Red Leafs jerseys and chugging beer flashed on the wall. “We must preserve our identity as a commuter schoolTM. Rowdy pep rallies and free popcorn are out, period. Bus lines and broken R5s are sooo in!”

The audience erupted in an uproar of protest just as a thick fog that reeked of synthetic florals descended from above, knocking out several students, including me. I woke up slumped outside the library with a giant foam finger that said: “PROTECTING THE ENVIRONMENT (AND SCHOOL SPIRIT) SINCE 1965.”