Where in the country is Mariam Makhniashvili?

This 18-year-old girl has been missing since September.

I’m really curious about what happened to 18-year-old Mariam Makhniashvili.

The Toronto teenager has been missing since mid September, when she disappeared from the vicinity of her school.

Since then police have found no trace of her besides her backpack, but there have been three separate occassions on which a woman fitting her description was spotted in Alberta.

In late October someone thought they had seen her selling dreamcatchers in the town of Okotoks.

Last week someone else claimed to have spotted her at a hotel in Grande Prairie.

The most recent spotting was in Hinton, a town near the foot of the Rockies.

I’m no detective, but I think three sightings – all in the province of Alberta – are too many to be a coincidence. My guess is that she’s been kidnapped and dragged out there, for some reason.

Then again, these tips are all unconfirmed. Maybe it’s just someone else who looks like her?

I often wonder how this whole situation is going to pan out while I’m working the lonely midnight shift in the Toronto Star’s radio room.

I know it must seem strange that this girl’s tragic disappearance has become a narrative for me to follow. I feel heartless even phrasing it that way. I truly sympathize with the Makhniashvili family, and I sincerely hope that Mariam turns up soon and that she’s okay.

But after only a couple of months of doing the crime beat, I’m already becoming desensitized to violence. When you hear about it all the time, it really loses a lot of its shock value.

Of course, I’m sure the fact that I’m sitting miles away in the comfort of the newsroom really softens the blow. It would be a whole different thing, entirely, to  be on scene and witness the blood.

If you’re interested in following the developments in the hunt for Mariam, check out the Star’s Mariam page.

A Nuit Blanche renegade

“Raise one hand and repeat after me,” boomed Elliot into a megaphone, from atop a platform in front of the ROM Crystal.

“I believe in higher velocity.”

The smiling crowd before him echoed his words, their arms raised in the air and adorned with glow sticks and plastic jewellery.

“Less balance!”

Off to the side, members of the New Model Circus Army practiced fire spinning, prepped their tools and swallowed flames before a circle of admirers.

“And safety third!” Elliot concluded.

The onlookers chuckled.

Moments later, the crowd rushed across Bloor St. to where a flurry of colourful lights and booming electro emanated from the back of a rented U-Haul truck. DJ Dingokiller had begun spinning his set.

This was the third year of the Nuit Blanche Renegade Parade, and the event seems to be growing every year – much to the dismay of nearby traffic.

There’s nothing like dancing along Bloor St. in a crowd of easily over a thousand people. The cops didn’t even try to shut us down. It would have been nearly impossible. We were unstoppable.

We made our first stop near the University of Toronto, where a trapeze artist and a silk acrobat were suspended from the branches of a tree, their bodies striking dramatic poses overhead.

Fire dancers twirled staffs and chains on the paved road nearby to the beat of a drum ensemble that seemed to materialize out of thin air.

Next we headed over to Yonge St., where we became a major obstacle for vehicles.

Spectators gathered for the Nuit Blanche festivities didn’t know what to make of us. Some of them wore expressions of disbelief. Some of them joined in and danced along the street with us. Some of them gave us high fives as we passed. Almost all of them had their cameras pointed our way.

As a friend of mine aptly pointed out near the evening’s conclusion, Nuit Blanche isn’t really about the art itself, it’s about the way that the art brings people together. You bump into people that you haven’t seen in years.

By the end of the night, the art has merely become a backdrop to the throngs of people, all out on the street partying until sunrise.

Waterfront on Sunday night

I was sitting by the lake near the ferry dock around 11 earlier tonight before my overnight shift in the Toronto Star radio room.

While enjoying my chicken gyros from Alexandros I fantasized to myself about a different life- one where my ambition didn’t gobble up all of my time and I could be free to enjoy the gorgeous weather on Labour Day weekend and hop on a ferry to the island, myself.

There’s been talk about building an underwater tunnel from the city to the island lately, which really pisses me off. When the attempts to build a bridge were shot down there was some kind of a deal stipulated that there would be no bridge or other “similar fixed link” to the Toronto island, but apparently an underwater tunnel isn’t “similar” enough to a bridge.

Why can’t Toronto just leave the islanders alone to enjoy their peaceful, friendly, car-free community?

There’s this wonderful sort of romanticism, in my mind at least, around the notion of having to take a ferry to get there. I got stuck out on the island overnight with a friend and two almost-strangers and camped out all night on the beach once, and it’s the only island story that I have. I still remember the couple that we were there with, who had forgotten their sleeping bags, rolling themselves up in their single blanket like a human burrito.

The spot we had was on Snake island, and it was gorgeous. The wilderness made us feel like we were in Muskoka, but the perfect view of the Toronto skyline reminded us how close we were to the city. It was the first summer that the CN tower was lit up in all those pretty colours and they kept rotating them to test them out.

We watched the boat cruises circle around the lake and blinking lights on the horizon for a while before I had to head over to the Star.

Vancouver not so hot?

I stumbled onto this fascinating travel piece that compares the thrifty, artsy, hippie-based culture of Vancouver to that of Portland, and apparently Oregon has British Columbia’s hot-spot cornered five to one.

While I think the article goes a little over the top in criticizing a city surrounded by some of the most beautiful landscape that I’ve ever seen in North America, it definitely brings up a couple of good points:

It’s an underlying sentiment in many movements for a more fun city in Vancouver: creativity is happening organically all over. But as city council flaps it’s wings to create a more culturally stimulating city, it’s own policies are pushing true vibrancy underground.

So what’s Portland’s benefit? According to the article, less strict zoning laws and a government that can’t provide a great deal of funding but does a good job of “getting out the way.”

I haven’t been to Vancouver since my childhood, but I’ve always thought of it as a magical place that just exudes art culture. I wonder if I would see it differently if I visited again.

The following statement, I would say, applies just as readily to our home city, Toronto:

“Art is happening all over the city, but the city has this narrow idea of which art should be promoted. As a result, the arts being supported are un-organic. It doesn’t truly reflect the true art culture. You can feel the inauthenticness of it in comparison to what’s really going on in Vancouver.”

Sure, Toronto supports events like Luminato and Nuit Blanche, but the funny thing about Nuit Blanche is that the most spirited art always seems to be the random, renegade stuff.

As for the other 364 days out of the year, the most beautiful art that Toronto has to offer isn’t in the AGO, it takes place mostly under the general populace’s radar- but perhaps that’s what makes it so especially beautiful.

Backstreet’s back….again?!

This is just so nostalgic of my pre-teen years that I had to write a post.

I just got a press release about a new album that’s being released by the Backstreet Boys in October called This is Us.

What surprised me even more- yes, I guess I’m totally out of touch with pop culture- is that they apparently released an album in 2007 and are now a four-piece band (apparently Kevin Richardson split).

I totally feel like I just aged 10 years.

Don’t stop the presses! It’s hard to get them back up and running

I had to drag my ass out of bed at 4:45 a.m. this morning, but it was for a good cause.

The whole time I was thinking, “Wow, I must be really dedicated to my job to be doing this.”

From campus the photo editor and I grabbed a cab to Mississauga- surprisingly, not far from where I used to live with my parents (and where they still live)- to check out Masterweb, the company that prints our newspaper.

I have to say- my eyes were definitely opened.

I’ve never seen a printing press before, so seeing big giant tubs of ink and the newspapers flying along a conveyor belt was pretty freaking cool. It reminded me of a television show I used to watch as a kid (was it Popular Mechanics for kids, maybe?) where they’d always take a trip down to some kind of factory and show you how something was made.

Except, even more interesting, because as editor-in-chief I’m so heavily involved in newspaper production from the editorial side, and learning about the technical process of the presses really rounds out my knowledge and fills all of the gaps.

It’s really quite phenomenal how much I have learned over the past two years.

Breakfast at treats

He’s there every morning around 7 a.m. At least I assume he’s there every morning because every time that I’ve been there around that time, he’s been there, too.

The lady that makes bagels always smiles and says hi to him. She’s friendly to everyone, but it seems like she reserves a little extra friendliness just for him.

At first the sight of him is a little frightening. He’s always in dark sweats, although they’re surpisingly clean. His unkempt, thinning whitish-grey hair hangs down the sides of his face, frizzy and too long, revealing too much scalp. His face is round and dumb-looking but appears harmless and his eyes look rather kind. He’s usually smiling.

I’m not sure if he’s homeless or just old and not well taken care of.

Some nights I stay up in my office on the fourth floor until morning working on an assignment. I usually go downstairs shortly after watching the sky turn purple with the sunrise to get a bagel and a coffee and he’s always there, in the line up.

He doesn’t look like any of the security or custodial workers that come in on those mornings, all suited up in their red and black York uniforms.

I wonder who he is. Why does he get up so early to go to Treats for a coffee?

But it’s probably better that I don’t know. It might break my heart.

Middle class students get screwed again

I just saw an article on the Star website that enraged me about how the textbook grant is being cut back.

Now only students who are elligible for finanacial assistance (those who qualify for OSAP) will be able to get the $150 textbook grant.”

Many middle-income students don’t qualify for OSAP (Ontario Student Assistance Program) but still struggle to cover the costs of education,” said Melanson.

I couldn’t agree more. In fact, it’s the middle class students who are often in the toughest positions – many of them have families who have too many children or too high of a mortgage to be able to afford their children’s tuition.

In fact, I have tons of friends who do not even receive any financial assistance from their parents for tuition and textbook costs, and yet they still don’t qualify for financial aid because their parents are above the stringy income cut-off point (which, last time I checked, was around 20-30 grand, which is not nearly enough to support a family comfortably and pay over $5,000 a year for their children’s tuition).

Even if you submit an application clearly stating that your parents aren’t helping you out financially and you live on your own, they still award money based on your parents’ income rather than your own.

On the flip side, students who come from low-income families have a whole slew of scholarships, grants and OSAP loans that they qualify for already. In fact, a friend of mine once informed me that he had so much extra grant money from the government to buy himself a macbook and an entire new wardrobe – money that’s coming out of my parents’ pockets, while they take extra shifts at work and tighten up their budget so that they can afford to put me – a middle-class student – through school.

I’ve often wished that I came from a low income family, so that I could quality for all these scholarships and grants that are awarded based on financial need (something that I have, although the government won’t recognize it as such).

For students at York, who are losing a month of valuable working time (and in some cases maybe an entire summer, considering that many employers have summer contracts that require the full four months), this is going to be an extra hard hit.

I think that the living standards that many students have to deal with are completely fucking ridiculous. Many students live in poverty, can barely afford rent and go hungry on a regular basis because of the high cost of tuition, transportation and textbooks – and constant hunger is certainly not a state that is very conducive to learning.

How can you focus on studying when you’re dealing with cockroaches and fumigation, have an empty fridge and have to work long hours at work to be able to make rent?

The government – and whining tax payers – need to sit down and realize that investing in students in one of the most important things that a country can (and should) do. Without students, we wouldn’t have progress, and without progress, we wouldn’t have anything.

Possessed or Bewitched?

The actors in The Bewitched sure know how to convulse.

I went to see the latest Theatre @ York production last night, and it totally blew me away.

When I first glanced at the program and saw that the show had a running time of over three hours, I got a little freaked out. After all, I had an essay to write. Maybe I could just sneak out after the intermission?

However, the show was so captivating that I was quite literally on the edge of the seat craning my neck half the time, sinking back and squeezing my partner’s hand out of fear the other half. I didn’t even check my watch once.

The story line, which deals with the in-breeding of the the Spanish Habsburgs and the religious prosecution done by the Spanish Inquisition, was interesting and funny, striking a delicate balance between humour and horror that one of my writers appropriately labeled in his review as “macabre”.

The actors were fantastic, as was particularly demonstrated by their abilities to pull off being “possessed” in a way that was thoroughly creepy rather than corny or melodramatic.

But what really made the show for me were the costumes, the makeup, the incredible lighting and the use of sinister carnival-esque music and that shrill, droning sound that came in every time something spooky happened.

I’ve seen a number of theatre productions throughout Toronto, but with the exception of Tim Supple’s Indian theatre rendition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream that was in town for last year’s Luminato festival, Theatre @ York productions trump them all.

According to Amy Stewart, the publicist for York’s fine arts faculty, this is partly due to the fact that Theatre @ York shows are student productions, so they can arrange to have much larger casts than an independent production company which would have to pay  an arm and a leg for such a huge crew of actors and tech people.

I’m sure that this kind of access to resources is one reason, but we both chalked up the rest to the following: Theatre @ York is awesome, and student productions just don’t get the kind of credit and public attention that they truly deserve.

Yes! K-Os’s new album delivers.

K-Os’s new album Yes! is everything I was hoping it would be.

Let me preface this by saying that I’m not an avid hip-hop fan. But when I first heard Joyful Rebellion, it was instant, head-over-heels love at first sound.

Not only are the beats totally fun and catchy, I thought, but also, Wow! A hip-hop artist whose songs are actually about something.

Yes! maintains the philosophical lyrical quality and the light-hearted catchiness of Joyful Rebellion, which is really all that I could ask for out of the album.

My favourite track so far is “I Wish I Knew Natalie Portman,” which doesn’t mention Natalie Portman at all in the song but samples a part of the OC theme song, and is catchy as fuck.

That being said, I got into a huge debate with a co-worker about the use of sampling on that track because he seemed to think it’s unoriginal and a cheap-shot. I pointed out a couple of things to him, namely:

1. Sampling is nothing new – it’s always been an integral aspect of hip-hop and DJ culture
2. There is really no such thing as “new” music, every song is a new take on an older song/style
3. Sampling is awesome because it takes something familiar that people love to hear and portrays it in a new light, which in an art in and of itself. Plus people love hearing that catchy hook or riff from a song they know mixed into a track when they’re out dancing.

I realized, in the course of that argument, how this has become something that I feel really strongly about. I wrote an article about mashups for Excalibur earlier this year by interviewing my friend Justin, and I also published a piece from one of my writers that reviews the Rip Manifesto film, which tackles all sorts of issues surrounding copyright laws and sampling in music. Interestingly, this film is an open-source documentary and using it for mash-ups is strongly encouraged.

It would be sad if sampling and mashups had to die because of overly stringent copyright laws. Emulating the idea of a song and ripping it off is one thing, but using a catchy hook or riff to make something new is actually a very highly original thing to do, plus I would argue, it actually increases the popularity of the artist being sampled. I’ll be honest: I didn’t know who The Verve were until I heard Bittersweet Symphony dropped in one of my favourite electro-mashup sets by Vivi Diamond.