Miley Cyrus

The great debate started a month ago, (actually three months ago – but that's just embarrassing) - what to be for Halloween?

Why does it always happen that we have over ambitious ideas and then three days before Halloween the panic sets in and (once again) we end up tearing through Value Village trying on ragged housecoats, children's apparel, neon wedges and ski jackets assuming we will find 'the' costume, all the while waving at ex-friends and neighbours that we sort of know. Sigh. read more...

by Samantha Evans
This time of year most people are busy drumming their fingers, trying to conjure up the most clever but not too uglifying Halloween costume. For once, I am like most people, and am also trying to decide who is worthy of my imitation. But unlike others, I have another seminal occasion to ponder. My mother (in)conveniently birthed me the day preceding Halloween, leaving me with a constantly themed, yet overlooked birthday party each year. (I have likened it to those born on Christmas - whose birthday gets upstaged do you think - yours or Jesus’? Yeah, exactly). J. Alfred Prufrock may have his coffee spoons at the ready, but I prefer to measure life on a larger scale. (Maybe this is why I can’t seem to keep a diary for longer than a few months at a time; once I left high school it seemed more important to live life than to record it. But then, maybe I’m just sub-consciously avoiding judgment day. After all, it’s so much easier to dance when no one’s watching.) Birthdays are inherently self-reflective. Try as I might to dose them in cocktails and celebratory dinners and be done with them, my self critic can’t help but take mental stock of my leaps and hurdles over the past year. read more...