A glimpse of plan(et) B
By Seshini Jayakody
Light pollution often poses an obstacle when observing the night sky; but don’t you dwell, because Mars is bright and perceptible this October and will remain more or less the same till mid-November.
This is by virtue of its placement in relation to the sun and Earth. Earth travels almost twice around the sun in the same amount of time that Mars does once. But when Mars meets up, it sits in alignment with the two bodies. This is called “opposition,” and it happens about every two years. However, not only is Mars in opposition this October, but it is also in perihelion. Perihelion is the point in a planet’s orbit when it is closest to the sun, and the two together only occur every 15 to 17 years.
More excitingly, Mars will be tilted in such a way that it exposes its southern polar cap to our view. Although it may be difficult to identify its key characteristics without a telescope, the red planet (that is, Mars) will nonetheless be perfectly distinguishable to the naked eye. In order to locate it, Mallory Thorp of the University of Victoria tells Abbotsford News that gazing northeast right after sunset will help follow its rise. Conversely, In-The-Sky is a handy tool that provides an online guide to a map of the night sky from any location.
Itty bitty titty committee
By Andrea Sadowski
Puberty did not help me a lot in the boob department. I am a B-cup at best. I used to be pretty bummed out about my tiny titties and bought bras with a deranged amount of padding in them. To my mom’s horror, I would wear low-cut tops and push-up bras that would awkwardly highlight my non-existent bosom. It has only been within the past year that I have realized how blessed I am to have a bra-size so small. I have probably worn a bra a handful of times since I first quarantined in April, and it feels amazing. I am no longer held captive by society’s chains; my teats can feel free and proud. I don’t experience under-boob sweat; cute, little, lacey bralettes are my jam; I can trot down a flight of stairs without getting hit in the face; and underwires? Forget about it. Yes, I am truly blessed and will forever be grateful that my boobs stopped growing when I was 16.
A cowboy needs a hat, needs a hat, needs a hat
By Mikaela Collins
Just like how that new TikTok audio clip from “A Cowboy Needs a Horse” lives in my head rent-free, so do 10 tiny, porcelain cowboy hats. I’ve seen them at a vintage store the last three or four times the siren call of overpriced Pyrex bowls and random antique photographs has drawn me in. There are two matching sets of five, in pastel colours, the brim of each one a little bigger than my hand. They are not ring holders, catch-alls, or ashtrays. They can not even be hung on the wall. They are very fragile, purely decorative, and absolutely useless — and I love them. The last time I was there, I treated myself to one of the pink ones, but to no avail — I hunger for them still. There are horizontal surfaces in my home that go tragically unadorned by these miniature chapeaus, and that fact can not stand. My plan is to pick them off one by one, but I’ve decided to advertise that fact here in the interest of financial responsibility. You, reader, know they exist. You, reader, could hunt them down if they speak to you as they do me. Please, buy them before I do. My wallet — and my roommate — beg you.
(Rain Neeposh/The Cascade)
Andrea Sadowski is working towards her BA in Global Development Studies, with a minor in anthropology and Mennonite studies. When she's not sitting in front of her computer, Andrea enjoys climbing mountains, sleeping outside, cooking delicious plant-based food, talking to animals, and dismantling the patriarchy.
