Student Life


FEATURED ARTICLES           Wednesday, September 08, 2010                                Email to a Friend

Tips on Staying Upbeat During the Winter Season
Trekking mountain climber style as gusts of howling winds pierce all uncovered skin. Permanent salt stains, frost bitten...

From pothead to psychologist? Why not!
A self-confessed "pot head" at 14 years of age, today, at the age of nineteen, Ariell Foran...

Tips For Valentines   Don't make him sweat on the hot seat?
What's a surefire way to close down communication? Put your mate on the defensive. Every relationship...

Tax Time can be rewarding for students
ost secondary students may be thinking about midterms and Spring Break at this time of year but...

Campus Eating Know-How:With Some Help from the Experts
Which resident student has not heard the following familiar grumblings at their native mess hall: “This food sucks”.

Holiday Shopping Guide '07
Campus Life get you the info on all the best gifts for friends and family for this holiday season.

Sweaty Coverage of the Sauna World Championship
Zooming the video camera lens, the sight of four flabby, nearly naked men and one scrawny guy forces me to zoom out—way out.

Riders with a Cause
Do you worry about the current state and future of our planet, or humanity? Are you one of those people who is scared by Al Gore’s vision of the world...

Internship Profile: Stephanie Ullman, CTV Newsroom
Attending murder trials, interviewing famous Canadian singers like Michael Buble, and covering breaking news...

In the Company of Me

Going on a Rampage

By Francis Luta

Zero booty-calls lined up, single and your friends are out of town—desperately trying to forage for something to do. The times where you haplessly endure a social and sexual famine eventually derives you to do crazy things: A need to go on a sexual rampage.

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect with a surprise-call from an old fling. By this time I have let the itch get to me. An instant instinct was to dive in without considering the repercussions. With the unfortunate drought the lawn ironically has turned into a jungle. So I picked up the scissors readying to trim the southern region. There, in the midst of snippets on the sink of my bathroom barber, I couldn’t help but feel foolish. Has it really come to the fact that I was ready to throw away everything I have learned to this point—to obliterate everything up to the very climax, by skipping anything remotely significant?—perhaps to get to know one another? I might as well walk with my pants hanging down to my ankles, while I yell out “Come and get it!”

I’ve done the dirty-chicken dance and I know what happens afterwards. It was a fact I was willing to overlook: Using each other strictly for pleasure that only lasts for no longer than twenty minutes (depending on positioning). After you have pillaged one another, you feel like shit after. You go home, hop in the shower, scrubbing hard as if every-bit-of what transpired has slid down the drain along with the respect you had for your body. Luckily while my sanity was still intact, I slowly placed the scissors down and pulled my pants back up. Was I really ready to give myself without truly receiving anything worth-wile? Who do flings think they are?

I couldn’t bare the thought of losing myself all over again. Wham-bam-no-thank-you-ma’am, at least not tonight. So I drew myself out of a deed where there are no victims.