The opening scene: In four-inch heels and gold satin, Clara Bishop lights a cigarette in an interrogation room, her crime unknown. “Tell me, Miss Bishop,” demands the sergeant, “do you always act like you’re a character from a film noir movie?”

Well, yes, actually, she does. In Kim Izzo’s My Life in Black and White, failed screenwriter Clara – a mousy tomboy “more Molly Ringwald than Megan Fox” – travels to London to win back her estranged husband, a sleazy reality-TV producer, from his gorgeous new girlfriend.

Armed with and inspired by a suitcase of glamorous gowns from her grandmother, a film noir actress who careened off the Hollywood cliffs, Clara goes Rita Hayworth red and is transported back to 1952 – as are all other characters; just go with it – to save Grandma and win back her husband’s love.

After a bit of a slow start – Clara in the present, afternoon-drunk in her ex’s T-shirts, is painfully pathetic – we’re finally in 1952.

It’s a strange world, where every waitress is an actress, every actress is a screenwriter, and if you sit down to cry on a doorstep, you better believe the homeowner is the most powerful movie producer in the country.

Doubly convenient if you discover A Woman Scorned, Grandma’s unfinished screenplay about a jilted lover who happens to be named Clara.

All this through a film noir lens – thick fogs, cracks of lightning and possible murder.

It’s not the easiest sell, but Izzo has mapped her plot with careful precision. If readers don’t overthink time travelling, it’s a familiar romcom premise with delightful results (I’m sure you recall Pleasantville as fondly as I do).

My Life in Black and White, however, doesn’t always seem confident in its own premise: “Whatever was going on, [in her present-day life],” Clara puzzles at one point, “the same people … had made the trip back to 1952.”

Parallels are clever, but rarely go unannounced: “It was chilling how much the script mirrored my own life”; “The script full of eerie coincidences were tough to ignore”; and “The tone of A Woman Scorned seemed to have found its way into my attitude.” But Izzo needn’t explain and re-explain Clara’s transition from frumpy to femme fatale; by now, imaginative and insightful readers are firmly on board, thanks mostly to speedy pacing and stylish similes.

Which is where My Life in Black and White gets it just right. Its deliciously campy descriptions – “Her lips were glossed to a shine that twinkled as brilliantly as the crystal fobs hanging from the chandelier” – effortlessly evoke mood, and well-placed film references teach film noir basics without feeling like Film History 101.

Camp and clichés are plentiful, but as meta nods to the genre that never take themselves too seriously, they work like a charm. Or, as Izzo might say, like cream on ripe berries served with freshly poured champagne: sweet and satisfying. Fade out.

Allison Rouble’s four-year-old daughter is just starting to ask some big questions. Most recently she asked, “Where did I come from?” But the answer is not straightforward.

After years of infertility, Rouble’s daughter was conceived via an anonymous sperm donor. Sixteen months after her daughter was born, Rouble gave birth to twins, now three, using the same donor. “We have been answering her questions as age appropriately as we can and with as much detail as we think a four-year-old can handle,” says Rouble. “Regardless of her being conceived by sperm donor, she is still a little girl who has no idea about the birds and bees yet.” But this brings bigger questions for parents: What and how much do we really tell children about conception and childbirth? What can they really understand?

simple is best
“I see lots of parents with questions about how to talk to their kids—about traditional reproduction and otherwise,” says Deborah Bell, PhD, a Vancouver-based child psychologist and founder of Sand Story Psychology Services. She says a developmentally appropriate answer with just enough information is best, especially since parents have a tendency to over-explain, which can overwhelm little ones. “Sometimes a five-year-old asks, ‘Where do babies come from?’ and parents launch into a detailed account of baby-making, when ‘Mommy’s tummy!’ is enough,” says Dr. Bell. “If the child wants more information, he will ask more questions. That will cue parents as to what information the child is ready to hear.”

Of course, every child is unique. “Depending on his personality and temperament, you might have a kid who asks every single question—or you might have one who seems entirely uninterested,” says Dr. Bell. And if you have three kids, you might be blessed with many different responses—and that’s okay too. “Think about what you want to say ahead of time,” advises Dr. Bell. “Especially if the child’s origins are more complicated (i.e., adoption, reproductive technology)—that way you won’t be taken off guard.”

a non-traditional start
If life were a Hollywood movie, the Roubles might sit their daughter down on her 18th birthday and drop a plot-twisting bomb about the donor. But for the thousands of Canadian children born via non-traditional reproduction, such as egg or sperm donation, IVF and surrogacy, the reveal is much less dramatic. “We don’t want them to remember it is as a time in their lives when Mom and Dad sat them down and ‘told’ them,” says Rouble. “We would prefer if it was something they just always remembered knowing from the time they were very young—a discussion that is ongoing, open and one that I am sure will always be evolving as they grow and as they have more complex questions for us.” And hopefully, the children will grow up not remembering anything different. “All families are diverse now, so for us to be different too isn’t all that strange,” adds Rouble. “It is why I want our kids to grow up knowing that they are not a family born out of secrets, but one born out of joy.”

As Dr. Bell notes: “All children wonder where they fit in and make connections through sameness and love. Be sure to emphasize similarities even if they are not biological. A sense of humour and a strong work ethic can be just as connecting as eye colour and hair colour.”

helpful resources
New books and resources reflect changing times and can help parents with this conversation. “There are so many single parents, gay parents and straight parents using assisted reproductive technologies. More and more people aren’t biologically related to the kids they’re raising,” says Cory Silverberg, a Toronto sex educator and author of What Makes a Baby (Triangle Square). His book, written for the curious son of a trans man, uses colourful, gender-neutral figures to explain how an egg, a sperm and a body for the baby to grow in makes a baby. “I wanted a book that could work for anyone, regardless of how many grown-ups were involved, what their gender, orientation or identity is.”

Whatever your family situation, says Dr. Bell, embrace it, making it a part of your family story from the beginning. “Parents can say, ‘We wanted you so much and were so thrilled when you arrived.’ Then the child can feel part of you, regardless of who donated the genetics.”

The Ancient Greeks soaked in public baths, Northern Europeans rolled in snow, and modern athletes plunge post-performance, but hydrotherapy—this is, the alternating combo of hot and cold for therapeutic benefits—is invading the Canadian spa scene in the form of outdoor Nordic Spas. But you’re normal if ice baths sound like the opposite of relaxation. I, for one, am terrified.

“It’s cold, but if you follow the instructions, you won’t feel it,” promises Martin Galdu, president of Station Blü, a new Nordic spa nuzzled at the foothills of Quebec City’s Laurentian Mountains. At the elbow of a bubbling brook, surrounded by snow and tall white pines, swimsuit-clad patrons of Station Blü walk along heated stones between the sauna, steam bath, whirl pool and—at a shivery 7˚C—the dreaded cold pool.

My mission, should I choose to accept it: Begin in the 35˚C sauna—which sits 40 people, making it one of the largest in North America—for as long as I can bear. When my pores are open and dripping sweat, I’m ready. Move as quickly as possible and jump—no easing in—into the cold pool, head underwater. “If you just go to your shoulders,” explains Gladu, “those pores are still open so heat will escape. You’re searing yourself closed, like a good steak.”

And, more important, you don’t feel the cold plunge. Promise.

Instead, your body’s trapped heat delivers a strange euphoric feeling, staying sufficiently warm to enjoy the snowy scenery in just a towel. Meanwhile, good things are happening: heat has slowed the internal organs’ activity, encouraging blood vessels to expand, while cold water constricts these blood vessels, pushing blood back into the organs. The result is improved circulation and detoxification. “Your muscles relax, circulation increases, oxygen is carried to all levels of the skin,” says Gladu, who says by my third or fourth visit, my skin will glow.

Studies are rare and few, but some have shown hydrotherapy may help arthritis, fibromyalgia (chronic pain), inflammation and even insomnia. The jury’s still out on beauty claims, though spa enthusiasts claim improved skin elasticity, shrunken pores and aided weight loss. In the physiotherapy community, where full-body cold immersion has long been used in sports, some athletes claim enhanced performance.

“Unfortunately, there’s little scientific evidence to support the notion of improved performance,” says Sandy Rennie, director of Dalhousie University’s School of Physiotherapy. “It does help decrease trauma and control the pain and swelling of soft tissues and joint injuries,” he adds, not unlike plopping an icepack on a sore ankle. Beyond the sporting community, Rennie calls the practice “quite faddish.”

But wrapped in my towel and sipping my antioxidant smoothie, I’m convinced the Nordic spa is here to stay. They’re a good match with Canada—long winters, European influence—and cater perfectly to the bustling ski crowd. They often use greener hydro energies and natural gas. And, perhaps the most relaxing part of an afternoon at Station Blü, is a refreshing lack of distractions. “There are no kids, no cameras, no computers—there aren’t even clocks,” says Gladu. Your only job is to heat up, cool down, relax and start over.

Two thousand years ago, Hippocrates said, “All disease begins in the gut.” He didn’t know about probiotics, but the father of medicine was onto something: balance your intestinal bacteria, a.k.a. “gut flora,” and better overall health is almost inevitable.

“Humans are made up mostly of bacteria; we’re essentially a walking organism,” says Gregor Reid, the director of the Canadian Research & Development Centre for Probiotics. It’s not quite dinner-party conversation, but 100 trillion microorganisms are currently having a fete of their own in your digestive system. More than 400 known species of live bacteria—good and bad—are in a constant struggle for body domination (OK, we called it a party, but really it’s more of a battle).

Simply put, probiotics are the living microorganisms often called “good” bacteria that keep your digestive and immune systems happy. To continue with this battle analogy, ingesting beneficial bacteria means you’re adding reinforcements to the camp that helps you improve digestion and reduce inflammation and constipation.

HOW PROBIOTICS HELP

Recent studies have suggested that probiotics may do much more than tame your tummy; they may also reduce the incidence of diarrhea caused by antibiotics and stave off weight gain and common colds. They may even help with lactose intolerance, lower cholesterol levels and decrease blood pressure. And since bacteria impact the biochemistry of your whole system, they may lower stress and anxiety.

“Good bacteria impact everything from how often we get colds to the amount of energy we have to whether we suffer from allergies or depression,” says Jennifer Keirstead, a holistic nutritionist in Nelson, B.C. “But if bad bacteria are overgrowing and outnumbering good bacteria, they sort of take over.” The result can include poor digestion, diarrhea, irritable bowel syndrome and bladder and yeast infections.

YOUR DIET AFFECTS THE BACTERIA IN YOUR GUT

Bacteria feed off of what we eat, and the good guys help us digest our food. But diets high in refined sugars and simple carbs provide food for the bad bacteria. This is compounded by the fact that processed foods don’t provide us with a source of good live bacteria, which further tips the balance—and sustaining the delicate ecosystem in your intestines really is about achieving a healthy balance.

WELCOMING GOOD BACTERIA

Not only do our refined diets provide an advantage for the bad bacteria but we also consume few sources of good bacteria that come from raw or fermented foods. The process of pasteurization, designed to kill dangerous microbial growth in food, also kills off many of the good guys. So there are fewer of them on our plates than generations ago. As the body of research has increased, over the past 10 years manufacturers have been adding probiotics to many food products, from yogurt to dark chocolate to granola bars. In the past decade alone, sales of probiotics have almost tripled.

PICK THE RIGHT PRODUCTS

You can get your microorganisms the old-fashioned way since ingestible probiotics are all over your local grocery store. Raw sauerkraut, raw kimchee, raw apple cider vinegar, raw kombucha tea, unpasteurized olives and pickles and other raw and unpasteurized foods may contain probiotics. Meanwhile, science continues to look at the addition of probiotics to products ranging from orange juice to sliced bread.

“A massive amount of probiotic products has flooded the market,” says Reid. While he believes most are beneficial, the research is far from complete. “There are hundreds of bacteria that could be probiotic, but there are just 10 or 15 that have been proven in clinical studies to have a benefit,” he says. When purchasing products with advertised probiotics, Reid advises savvy consumers to read labels carefully (look for words such as “lactobacillus” and “bifidobacterium”), then research to see any studies on the strain you’re eating.

If you’re thinking of popping a probiotic in pill form, head to the supplements aisle and speak to a pharmacist or a staff person knowledgeable about probiotics. “Ask them for their opinion on the best probiotic they offer and why,” says Keirstead. (Even in a bottle, probiotics are alive! For best results, store them in a dark jar in the fridge.)

Reid suggests you follow the recom¬mended dosage instructions and start with regular doses, three times a week. “Like anything, your body will tell you if you overdo it,” he says. If you go over¬board, you could experience cramping or diarrhea. Keirstead recommends starting with smaller amounts of raw foods, then working your way up from there. “When the body isn’t used to naturally probiotic-rich foods, they can be powerful if eaten to excess,” she says. “One tablespoon or less of raw sauerkraut a day is a good amount to start with.”

THE BOTTOM LINE

“If you think of the organisms in your gut changing as you get older, good ones and bad are constantly multiplying and turning over and being expelled from the body,” says Reid. “The question is, how do you replenish the good bacteria?” By embracing probiotic-rich foods or a supplement, that’s how—no matter how gross “live bacterial microorganisms” might sound.

Choose a job you love, they say, and you’ll never work another day in your life. Maybe things start new and awkward, but you get comfy quick. Soon you’re spending 40 hours a week together, plus some late nights with Thai takeout and the occasional weekend. You take a mini vacation to an out-of-town conference. But then things get complicated, the stakes rise and suddenly you find yourself thinking about work at home, complaining about work to your friends, obsessing over how work can be more, wondering if your job is really the one for you. Which begs the obvious, awkward question: Uh, is work your boyfriend?

Exhibit A: While on a rare movie date with my real boyfriend, despite all efforts of resistance, I discreetly check my BlackBerry a dozen times while Jessica Chastain works 24-7 fighting terrorism in Zero Dark Thirty. Back at home, I reluctantly obey my guy’s one drink rule: I can chit-chat about work for as long as it takes to consume one drink. And as a freelance writer who loves and lives her job, I must sip slowly, because a funny thing happens after my last gulp: guilt-ridden silence. Worryingly, and unlike my better-balanced and conventionally employed drinking partner, I often have no thoughts that aren’t work thoughts.

But, Exhibit B: I wasn’t always like this. Like most people I know, I have the dubious, at best, job history of a flippant dilettante. My resumé is filled with random stints: a publishing internship here, a few months at a TV show there. Two months of telemarketing, two-and-a-half shifts of waiting tables (true story). If you had told my bad-waitress alter ego that my future self would keep notebooks of work to-do lists, she would have laughed and spilled the water jug on you.

There is a name for job-jumpers like me: wander women. It’s a useful term coined by Dr. Marcia Reynolds, an Arizona life coach and author of Wander Woman: How High-Achieving Women Find Contentment and Direction. Reynolds has abandoned the old logic—that women prioritize family and relationships over careers—and replaced it with a new theory for a new generation of ambitious and high-achieving women who instead look to work for fuzzy feelings. “This generation was brought up to think that you can get out there and do anything but also that you are great, unique and better at something than anyone else,” says Reynolds. For us, a job with a paycheque isn’t enough. “Our drive isn’t just to make money anymore; it’s to follow our individual passion. We have to make a difference and be acknowledged,” she explains. “And when we don’t get that, we move on.”

Work not giving you the love you need? “Lack of emotional fulfillment” is a new addition to our job dealbreaker list: Since our fickle employment market rarely offers three decades of job security plus a cushy pension plan anymore, it’s only logical that we expect our labours of love to deliver in other ways. And if you’re a one-love kinda gal, it’s often work that gets prioritized while relationships—Reynolds’ included—fizzle on the back burner.

“I destroyed a few of my marriages because I thought ‘You can’t take work away from me,’” admits Reynolds. Another unapologetic workaholic is Lady Gaga, though she doesn’t see it that way. “I’m a passionaholic,” says the songstress, who works 16 to 20 hours a day, uses her downtime to write and choreograph performances and only reluctantly cancelled her Born This Way tour for emergency hip surgery in February. When it comes to choosing between relations and vocations, her advice is bleak: “If you’re wondering which way to go, remember that your career will never wake up and tell you that it doesn’t love you anymore.” It’s a dark thought to keep you up at night, ladies. But, of course, a career and a boyfriend aren’t mutually exclusive—it just sometimes feels that way.

“I’m focusing on my career right now because that’s the phase I’m in,” says my pal Marybeth, a 29-year-old TV anchor with a long-distance boyfriend whom she sees on weekends. And no wonder—it took her a week to find 10 minutes to answer my questions, and, though she’s too pressed for time to do the math, she estimates she logs up to 80 work hours a week. This includes not only her official nine-to-five, where she typically skips lunch and stays two hours late, but also a freelance gig on evenings and weekends to supplement her wage (since she’s not an up-and-coming Bay Street lawyer or a top exec at a PR firm).

Still, Marybeth doesn’t consider herself a workaholic. Compared to her friends with hubbies and kids, she says, work stress is average and almost pleasurable. I can relate; I’m also in my “career phase,” a go-go-go decade for twentysomethings to get as far ahead as possible before looming domestic pressures drag us down. As such, single, childless women are almost pathologically productive: We represent 62 percent of Canadian university students, we study more and drop out less, and we graduate with higher marks and increasingly land better jobs, according to Statistics Canada. We’re also twice as likely to work unpaid overtime. Head to a big city like New York and a single, childless woman can expect to earn 17 percent more than her male peers—so says the U.S. Census Bureau.

But if you think men of the same generation are feeling the competition and kicking up their game, you’re wrong. “Men are failing to rise to the challenge,” says Aurea Crotty, entrepreneur and founder of the group Savoir Faire Professionals. Newly relieved from the burden of breadwinning, “men are entering uncharted territory and need to get with the program,” she says. “Do they really want to be trophy husbands? My husband jokes all the time that if I want to make all the money, he’ll stay home. He’s so comfortable with that.”

Lovable male slackers slackers—Bill, Ted, every dude in a Kevin Smith or Judd Apatow film—loiter just about everywhere in pop culture, beer and video games in hand. Their female counterparts, however, are shrill fun-ruiners, quick to squash their afternoon buzz with grown-up expectations. “I really feel that our culture is not inspiring men to step up their game,” says Crotty, reminding me that, despite all our advancements, Canadian women still perform nearly twice as much domestic labour as men. Statistics Canada concurs: In 2012, women reported 13.8 weekly hours of housework compared to men’s 8.3. “Now we’re making the money, we’re working long hours, and then we’re coming home and still cooking dinner and taking care of the household,” says Crotty.

If that mere thought has you slipping into a depression, it’s almost no wonder some of us choose work over home—at least for now. As for me, while it seems everyone else is enjoying a leisurely brunch, I’m choosing to spend my Sunday morning of a long weekend working on an article about workaholism. Some scientists suggest that workaholics may be as addicted to stress hormones as junkies are to heroin. In my case, while I’m not doing tequila shots for inspiration or anything, I do crave the rush of crossing this piece off my to-do list. The moment promises relief, but it never delivers.

So when does ambition turn into addiction? Workaholics Anonymous, which has meetings quietly popping up in church basements across Canadian cities, asks 20 hard questions. Among them: Is work the activity you like to do best and talk about most? Have your long hours hurt your relationships? Do you get more excited about work than about anything else? With a pile of yeses on my conscience, and feeling a bit wary of the 12-step program that Workaholics Anonymous recommends, I turn to Susan Washington, a Vancouver-based “Master Success Coach” who specializes in work-life balance.

Though both Crotty and Reynolds question whether it even exists, work-life balance is big business to coaches like Washington who make their living selling peace of mind to stress cases like me. “You can go high speed for a while,” she warns me, “but, eventually, you will burn out.” The infamous burnout isn’t just a celebrity excuse—ahem, Mariah, Demi, Lindsay, Selena, LeAnn—it’s a legit medical condition with symptoms including exhaustion, cynicism and inefficacy. Or, as Washington describes it, “when you’re lying in bed in the morning and you don’t feel you have the energy to brush your teeth.”

Complicating matters, explains Washington, is that, contrary to popular belief, stress doesn’t cripple some and bypass others. “It’s not like some of us have unsolvable problems while others don’t; we’re all prone to it,” she says. “Each of us is as bad as burned out on our worst day.” Conventional tips to minimize stress and maximize productivity still apply—exercise, meditate, don’t eat chips for breakfast (like I am now)—but the goal, however you choose to do it, is to control your spiking cortisol and the cheap rush it provides. “On the one hand, the urge to do more and be greater can be a great motivation,” says Reynolds, “but on the other hand, it can kill you.”

There has got to be a time when enough is enough, when you can stop to recognize and celebrate your progress—whether it’s with an eight-hour workday (hit 11 hours and double your risk of depression, says the Finnish Institute of Occupational Health) or your own one-drink rule. Then there has got to be another point—in my case, a computer-free week on a beach—when you can turn off progress altogether. Consider yourself more important than every assignment. “Exercise, read a stupid book for fun, schedule time for yourself like any other appointment,” suggests Reynolds. “We sometimes keep moving—it’s an endless quest for something more. We don’t ever stop to celebrate.”

So, today, I’ll break up with my work boyfriend (at least until Monday morning, when I’ll try again to keep things casual) and, since I’m not much for meditation, take my one drink in celebratory champagne form with my flesh0and-blood boyfriend. With any luck, I might stop talking and worrying about work long enough to score a different kind of passion—which is stress relieving, I might add. And it’s a good thing too: Despite all my best efforts, my work boyfriend never puts out.

Imagine you’re a mid-twenties human with a partner named Alex. It’s Monday morning and you didn’t sleep well. You struggle with motivation issues at a boring job. By Friday you’re exhausted, but Alex wants to take you to a party. Your choices: 1) shake off your funk and go have a blast; 2) agree to go, reluctantly; 3) say you’re not feeling well and can’t make it. Positive thinkers might want to choose 1), but in the online game Depression Quest, you cannot. Since you haven’t been seeing a therapist or taking your meds, having a blast just isn’t an option.

Launched on Valentine’s Day—a hat tip to the most depressing day of the year—Depression Quest makes it clear it is not a game like most others. “This game is not meant to be a fun or lighthearted experience,” it begins, sad piano music playing over a grey background. Instead, it presents 150 unique encounters to the 200,000-odd gamers who’ve played it online. Content is generated by your decisions, which affect your depression level, which then limits your choices. Its creators, Boston-based developers Zoë Quinn and Patrick Lindsey, are both serious gamers who struggle with depression. Neither saw their experiences reflected in the community. “It’s a topic most games don’t explore, and those that do dress it up with layers of metaphor and imagery,” says 26-year-old Lindsey, a transplanted writer from Toronto.

Their game is one of a slew of recent ones aimed at exploring issues of identity and mental health. Richard Hofmeier’s Cart Life, an exploration of poverty among food-cart workers, won top prize last month at San Francisco’s Independent Game Festival. Dys4ia, developed by a gamer who calls herself Anna Anthropy, is an autobiographical game about the experiences of a transgender woman. And Actual Sunlight, from Toronto creator Will O’Neill, explores “depression and the corporation.”

The 32-year-old O’Neill is a creative director by day and “hardcore gamer” by night. Actual Sunlight is his “largely autobiographical” story of a “fat, boring loser” who takes transit to work, loiters around a filthy apartment and speaks to his imaginary therapist. As in Depression Quest, options are limited. “You control the player, but your agency diminishes over time as a reflection of his depressed state,” he says.

Gaming as therapy is a controversial idea. The pursuit is more often associated with increased risk of depression and anxiety—a 2012 Swedish study found computers in general and gaming in particular was associated with stress, sleep disturbances and depression in young adults. But in an Australian study, researchers found a fantasy game-based treatment called SPARX was as effective for treating adolescent depression as clinical counselling.

Championing the change is Jane McGonigal, a game designer and author of Reality is Broken: Why Games Make Us Better and How They Can Change the World. In her 2012 TED talk, McGonigal talked about a dark period in her life. “I spent three months in bed, wanting to die,” she said. Following complications after a concussion, she had “non-stop headaches, vertigo, memory loss and mental fog.” Doctors suggested she rest her brain—no reading, writing, work and especially no video games. Instead, after 34 days, McGonigal decided, “I’m either going to kill myself or turn this into a game.” She created a roleplaying recovery game, Jane the Concussion Slayer, avoiding her real-life symptom triggers (bright lights, crowded spaces) and rewarding good habits—taking a walk, cuddling a pet. “That fog of depression went away. I still had the symptoms, but I stopped suffering.” The game is now sold as SuperBetter.

But don’t expect miracles, says Toronto psychiatrist Bruce Ballon from the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health. Ballon works in the simulation field, creating award-winning games dealing with mental health and addiction. Ideally, he’d take a blended approach. “I’d sit down and let the person play this game and discuss every step of the way.” Rethinking and reforming thought patterns is, after all, a slow process. Of Depression Quest, he says, “I don’t think it will help your depression, but it might help you understand your depression.”

FOR ASPIRING ATHLETES
Fitfix Junior Health and Wellness Inc: Core Stability Balance
Designed to complement a kid’s extracurricular sports – whether gymnastics, hockey, skiing or swimming – this class, part of the Sport Specific Movement and Injury Prevention program, focuses on strengthening little cores. Kids in two age levels (four to six and six to eight) start with a general warm-up, move into strength and coordination exercises and finish with a stretching cool-down. Centrally located at Yonge and Eglinton. Sessions run for seven or eight weeks, $23.50/class. 2409 Yonge St., Suite 202. 416-322-6770; fitfix.net

FOR MOMS
Belly Bootcamp: Bellies & Strollers
This intensive class boasts a program of “no fads, no gadgets and no nonsense.” Professional personal trainers – all of them pre- and postnatal specialists and mothers themselves – offer guidance, attention and support to rehabilitate your core, burn maximum calories and improve strength and energy, all while bringing your baby to beautiful Toronto parks (outdoor sessions run May to October, then this class moves indoors for the winter). Get hooked with a free trial class, then enroll for 10 weekly classes at one
of five locations, $195. 416-274-1020; bellybootcamp.ca

FOR LITTLE KIDS
Beaches Fitness: Music & Movement
This east end favourite offers many family-centric classes, all with ample daytime scheduling, but we especially love Music & Movement to encourage little dancers – two different classes are structured for kids two to four and four to six – to get their groove on. Classes include the basics of dance, a dash of musical theory and even help with counting, literacy and math. Six weeks, $60. 862 Kingston Road. 416-690-0045; beachesfitness.ca

FOR TOTS TO TWEENS
Zen Beginnings: Itsy Bitsy Yoga and Kids Yoga
Among its many pre- and postnatal classes, this uptown retreat is the only studio in the city to offer Itsy Bitsy Yoga – which is exactly as it sounds, and just as cute – and Kids Yoga, for kids from birth to tween-age. Baby poses aid with digestion, soothing, sleep and bonding, while tween yoga is interactive and imaginative (not to mention calming for this busy age group). The latter is such a hit that Zen Beginnings even offers yoga birthday parties for blossoming yogis. Classes start at $99 for six weeks. 697 Mt Pleasant Rd. 416-480-ZENN; zenbeginnings.com

FOR MOM AND BABY
Creative Children’s Dance Centre: 80s Babies
Head west to the Junction where this super-fun class is a chance for retro moms – you know who you are – to get moving, baby on hip, to the best ’80s tunes. Vogue like Madonna, have fun with Cyndi Lauper or moonwalk like Michael. No previous dance experience necessary! Bring your baby (recommended age is six weeks to one year), baby carrier and running shoes (leg warmers and lace gloves optional). Enjoy a free trial class, then enrol at $110 for eight weeks. 2968 Dundas Street West. 416-857-1746; 80sbabies.ca

FOR WATER BABIES
YMCA: Tot & Me Swim
Every kid should learn to swim, so get comfy in the pool early at the YMCA’s Tot & Me Swim, offered for children up to age five. Under the watchful eye of a certified lifeguard or instructor, tots learn to blow bubbles, bob up and down, and safely enter and exit the pool. Or, dig out bathing suits for everyone and splash about at the unsupervised family swims. Yearly membership – including swimming, classes, gym access, basketball, soccer and more – is $117 per month for families (two adults and all kids under 21). Check locations. ymcagta.org

FOR BIG KIDS
Kidnasium: Elementary Gym
Older kids ages seven to nine flip right out for Kidnasium’s gymnastics. It begins with a full cardio workout – that’s running, skipping and jumping – followed by a thorough stretch session. But the main show is where the fun really starts: a gym circuit of handstands, cartwheels, bridges, kick-overs, vaulting, somersaults and more. Expect to transport a sweaty (and tired) child home. Twelve-week session, $215. No experience required. 745 Mount Pleasant Road, 2nd floor. 416-480-2608; kidnasium.ca

There was one lonely message in my inbox: “I miss our friendship.”

This isn’t a story of reconciling with my high-school boyfriend or of breaking up with a best friend. This isn’t a story about missing anyone, and it’s certainly not a story about friendship—maybe “just friendship.” Or maybe not.

I met Michael a decade ago on my first day of university. Or, more accurately, I saw him from across the lecture hall in an English class full of hundreds of eager students scribbling in their notebooks. Meanwhile, I couldn’t even decide on a major.

The next day, in the class’ corresponding tutorial of just a dozen students, I saw him again. This time, I braved a smile. While I conveniently loitered outside on the steps afterwards, he asked me first to grab a coffee and then if I’d like to go splitsies on a pack of smokes. It was a big “yes,” even though I didn’t smoke.

Time flew over coffees and then drinks—which morphed into a marathon 12-hour hangout session. At one point he lazily plucked a leaf from a nearby tree, shaped it into a heart and placed it in my palm. Now thoroughly convinced I’d met the man of my dreams, I asked if he’d like to see my new dorm room.

This also isn’t a one-night-stand story. I wish I had been that clever.

“I’m so attracted to you right now,” he said, perched on the edge of my foam mattress and gazing lovingly into my eyes. He’d been saying all the right things for hours. Then, a curveball: “But I feel so guilty too,” he added. Time slowed right down again. “I have a girlfriend of three years. We live together. I thought I should probably tell you.”

It was the most understated “probably” I’ve heard to date. It was 11 hours late, completely misplaced in my bedroom and seriously squashing my buzz. Or not, as I like to (even now) blame the afternoon beers for my overdramatic reaction to his confession: I pushed him hard against my still-empty bulletin board and told him to get out. He did, apologizing the whole way, and said he hoped we could somehow stay friends.

And so, after a much-needed cool-down week, we began a beautiful, albeit dramatic, so-called friendship. Just friends, of course, as I was no home wrecker. I was the product of happily monogamous parents who still flirted with each other at restaurants. All my closest friends were women—strong women—and I considered myself an excellent girlfriend to them. I majored in women’s studies, for heaven’s sake. (I’d finally decided.) So, “just friends” it was.

My new just-friend and I did all the normal just-friends things. We had coffee dates and caught romantic jazz shows. We “accidentally” ran into each other more and more often. We played hooky in favour of too-close lie-down sessions in grassy fields in the sunshine. We split litres of wine and discussed what it would be like if we were together—but, of course, we could not, must not, even consider it at the moment. Needless to say, when I wasn’t busy with looming guilt, I considered our future almost constantly.

But since I’m only human, and since I had a facade to maintain, I dated elsewhere and everywhere. On the surface, I was fun and independent—a perfect strategy, said all my well-meaning friends, who had my back the best they could but were secretly hoping I’d soon move on.

Dig a little deeper, however, and I wasn’t so girl power: I desperately wanted an official boyfriend to level the playing field, to make Michael jealous, to make me forget about him entirely. A good plan, in theory, but something had already shifted in me. I had been cursed.

Suddenly, it seemed that every handsome stranger I met soon confessed to having a boring girlfriend on the home front. Like Michael, they were all thinking of leaving any day now. I assumed I was the exciting alternative they were considering leaving her for, and this made me feel exciting—and excited. Everything was wrong and shameful; guilt started to feel normal and then good.

Amid my many adventures, there was Adam, a gloomy fellow I met in a gloomier club and let hold my hand as he walked me home. After a dozen poetic emails—he was a philosophy major, natch—he confessed to a better half. But I was even better, he insisted, acting all tortured and torn about it. We just-talked for months before I grew bored of decoding his emails with a dictionary and disappeared.

By then, I had met an older gentleman on Craigslist who, for two glorious, wonderfully romantic weeks, showered me with expensive gifts and flowers. Finally, I boasted to my friends, my luck had rightfully come around. I was at last getting the attention I deserved. Then he tearfully confessed to having a wife and toddler, and I never heard from him again.

At work, a hunky chef took a very unprofessional liking to me. He and his lady friend had an “open thing” happening, he mentioned casually, a don’t ask/don’t tell policy (or, as it applied to me in practice, a don’t text/don’t call him policy) that—though I never heard this confirmed from all sources—seemed to work swell for the involved parties. And since he didn’t feel a single ounce of guilt over our late-night meetings, I justified often and relentlessly, why should I?

While it wasn’t something I ever consciously sought, my other-woman curse moved from bad luck to bad habit to way of life. If someone already had someone, I could relax around him. This felt so good that it made me like him, and my no-pressure ’tude tended to have him liking me too. I didn’t believe much in men anyhow at this point, and it was much safer to hold tight in the periphery. As much as it sometimes hurt to be the other woman, I told myself again and again, at least I wasn’t a naive girlfriend.

Until the day I was. Years into our just-friendship, Michael called me with big news: He was single and available. (He never mentioned, and I never asked, if he’d finally realized our fated love or if his girlfriend had tossed his sketchy ass to the curb. For convenience’s sake, I imagined the former.) He was crushed by the breakup, he said, and he needed my friendship now more than anything. Two bottles of wine and a friendly heart-to-heart-turned-all-nighter later, we were officially no longer just-friends.

A sexy notion, yes, but, spoiler alert: Moving from understudy to headliner isn’t easy. I felt no pleasure—just pressure, which immediately began building up around me. My mind raced with regrets and what-ifs, I obsessed over his thoughts and whereabouts and more than once I dreamed that he had reconciled with his ex. All the guilt and insecurity I had never allowed myself to feel over the years were pouring out of me at the worst times. Within a week, I had my first panic attack.

Though I tried my best to conserve it, the image I had created and perfected—the sexy, carefree alternative to his difficult, complicated girlfriend—was shattered almost instantly. Conversations, when I could think of something clever to say out loud, became tense and forced. After all that, we had nothing in common except a propensity for betrayal—and no one to betray but each other.

So, true to form, just a few awkward weeks later, Michael had more big news. He was sorry he hadn’t returned my calls this week, but he’d met the girl of his dreams. She was awesome, he gushed, and he thought she was the woman he was destined to marry. I wasn’t angry or even surprised—just relieved. I wished him luck, and I actually meant it. That was the last time I heard his voice.

Sure enough, in a few months I heard a relayed update from a friend of a friend. Michael had indeed got hitched, just as he’d predicted, to a nice girl in a small, traditional ceremony. I didn’t reach out to him with congratulations, but I didn’t begrudge their happy marriage either.

Then, the weekend after the wedding, he emailed: “I miss our friendship.”

For a fleeting moment, I felt sick to my stomach. And then, just as quickly, I felt better. I only let myself think about it for a minute and then asked myself: Did I miss him too? Was just-friends a friendship at all? My internal answer was a “no,” and then an even bigger “no,” and the realizations made me feel far better than he’d ever made me feel. I can’t say with certainty that this exact moment cured me of what I thought was my lot in life, but never again have I been anything but headliner in my relationships. Michael taught me—the hard way, no less, though I’m sure I needed it—a new set of expectations for myself and the people I let into my life and my inbox.

So, even though I hate to admit it, I suppose in retrospect I’m even grateful for our just-friendship, whatever it was. Not grateful enough to respond to his note, however.

A generation ago, the division between college and university was clear. “The older thinking—and there’s still some of that out there—just streamed students into academic or applied courses,” says Ken Steele, co-founder of Academica Group Inc., a research-based marketing consultancy in London, Ont., focused on higher learning. Grades still matter, but these days—as the outdated hierarchy of academic versus applied learning crumbles—so do countless other factors: tuition, location, experience, job prospects. So for unsure high school grads entering post-secondary education, how do you decide which path is for you?

First, consider your GPA. “Grades are black and white—either you have them or you don’t,” says Connie Easton, a high school counsellor in Richmond, B.C., who sits on the British Columbia School Counsellors Association. Most universities impose a 67 per cent minimum, but the number is always in flux. “It’s consumer demand. Admission standards depend on the number of kids applying and the average GPA.” Some students may luck out with a C-plus, but probably not. “You usually need to be in the upper 80s to be competitive,” she says, but you can bump up your application with life experience and leadership skills.

Independent, self-directed learners are a good fit for university, which offers a broad, comprehensive education through four-year undergraduate degrees in general areas (sciences, humanities, business). Many include professional programs, such as law or med school. While every program and school is different, says Herb O’Heron, Director of Research at the Association of Universities of Canada, “a student going to university is making a longer-term commitment to themselves. They go in with the idea that there’s a lot of time to understand and improve themselves.”

Colleges, meanwhile, offer shorter-term certificate and diploma programs with a focus on practical—and often regional—job training. “A lot of college students want to go, get out, and get to work as soon as possible,” says O’Heron. To facilitate faster learning, colleges are “more interactive, more instructive and project-based,” says Easton. And another big selling point: “[Most colleges] operate on a first-come, first-served basis,” she says. If you satisfy the basic requirements, you’re in.

It’s a much easier leap for younger students, some graduating as young as 16, who are used to small classes and a teacher who notices if you’re absent. If you live at home, college will likely feel more familiar. “Many students prefer the experiential hands-on learning that they get at college rather than the theoretical learning they’d get at university,” says Steele.

But for those looking for a bigger change, a possible move and greater academic challenges, university is probably your ticket to a new life. “In university, more people live on campus, so there are more student services and cultural events,” says Easton. None of it is free, however, and Canadian undergraduate students paid an average of $5,581 in tuition fees in 2012. That’s up five per cent from the year before, and doesn’t include living expenses, which can easily soar to $10,000 for on-campus housing. Community college fees range from $1,800 to $3,700.

Unsure dabblers, providing they’ve got the grades, often opt for a broader university degree that leaves more time and space to experiment before settling on any field in particular. “But the flip side of that coin,” explains Humber’s VP academic Michael Hatton, “is that college offers short programs; if you don’t like it, you’ve only invested a year or two.” And these days, as the division between college and university becomes increasingly blurred, moving from one to the other and back again isn’t a mistake—it’s the norm. Many colleges now offer degree programs, and college diplomas can sometimes count toward a university degree.

As stressful as choosing a post-secondary school may feel, remember that any staunch divide between colleges and university is long gone. “At this point, there is a mosaic of pathways to any profession from various credentials and various institutions,” says Hatton. Diplomas can be upgraded to degrees, and degrees are topped up with diplomas. “For 10 years, we’ve been focused on building these pathways from diplomas to degrees to post-grad and back again,” he says.

Considering college? Here are 34 unique programs across Canada.

Camosun College (Victoria)—Archaeological Field Technician
Stone tools discovered on B.C.’s Beatton River date human habitation to at least 12,000 years ago—lots of time to create a rich bank of archaeological evidence just waiting to be discovered. In compliance with provincial heritage legislation, Camosun College’s archaeological field technician program looks primarily at Aboriginal archaeology through an indigenous perspective, including First Nations elders as guest speakers and an overnight camp on Saltspring Island.

Camosun College (Victoria)—Pre-Entry Nautical Training
Students interested in trades relevant to shipbuilding—from pipefitting to welding to fine furniture—can now test the waters first with Camosun’s pre-entry nautical program, a beginner’s course on building modern-class seafaring vessels. Grads find gigs with the Coast Guard, BC Ferries, whale-watching and commercial fishing.

Okanagan College (Kelowna, B.C.)—Studio Woodworking
This new full-time program emphasizing craftsmanship is one of few woodworking programs in Canada. Often using the province’s Douglas fir and larchwood, students learn a range of skills (from traditional varnishing to modern computer-aided design) and for more than just furniture: instructor Tim Diebert’s expertise includes custom-stringed instruments, yachts and Hollywood movie sets. (See his handiwork in Disney’s Earth Star Voyager.)

Northwest Community College (Terrace, B.C.)—First Nations Fine Arts
Northwest is home to the Freda Diesing School of Northwest Coast Art, honouring the Haida artist’s work as a master carver, painter, educator and champion of First Nations art and culture. Here, students of Aboriginal descent develop a solid foundation in Northwest Coast art while learning and practicing the traditional art of woodcarving alongside world-renowned artists.

Douglas College (New Westminster, B.C.)—Skills Connect for Immigrants
In this program, skilled immigrants network with local employers, improving their communication skills and learning Canadian job-search techniques. Skills Connect also helps health professionals through the often-challenging process of obtaining Canadian licences and credentials. To date, Douglas College has helped more than 1,000 skilled newcomers leverage their existing skills, experience and education to start new careers in Canada.

Nicola Valley Institute of Technology (Merritt and Burnaby, B.C.)—Environmental Resources Technology
Formed in 1983, B.C.’s Aboriginal post-secondary institute offers a new two-year program to train First Nations students to work in the fishery, environmental assessment, mining, grassland ecology and forestry sectors. The latter is especially opportune; last September, the B.C. government committed $250,000 for scholarships to allow as many as 10 students to take the First Nations forestry training technician program offered at other colleges in the province.

Medicine Hat College (Medicine Hat, Alta.)—Environmental Reclamation Technician
Graduates of Medicine Hat College’s two-year environmental reclamation technician program are doing the opposite of their counterparts in mining programs, who are learning to extract from the earth: they study surveying, mapping, assessment and monitoring in order to return disturbed lands—from mining, oil drilling, gas extraction, transportation or logging—to their natural state.

Grande Prairie Regional College (Fairview, Alta.)—Commercial Beekeeping Certificate
Launched in January 2012, Grande Prairie offers Canada’s first beekeeping vocational program to train apiary assistants and field supervisors for commercial beekeeping operations. Alberta is the third-largest producer of honey in North America, contributing $20 million annually to the local economy. The program uses eco-friendly models to mind bee populations and support “the sustainable bee.”

Grande Prairie Regional College (Grande Prairie, Alta.)— Active Aging Fitness Practitioner Certificate
Also at Grande Prairie, in anticipation of shifting demographics caused by aging boomers, the Active Aging program is offered on campus and online through eCampusAlberta. Ten courses include managing fitness programs in local gyms, planning outdoor leisure events, and developing programs for older adults in acute, continuing or community-care settings.

Red River College (Winnipeg)—Railway Conductor Certificate
Manitoba’s largest institute of applied learning now offers a modern take on Manitoba’s rich railway history: the railway conductor certificate integrates safety, business, communications and management of all things transportation. The intensive 15-week program uses a combination of classroom, lab and work-site instruction to simulate working conditions on Canadian railways.

The Northern Alberta Institute of Technology (Edmonton)—Nanotechnology
Nanotechnology—a merging of physics, biology and chemistry to manipulate atoms and molecules—is an emerging sector in Canada; Alberta has been a major player since unveiling its investment strategy in 2007. The Northern Alberta Institute of Technology launched Canada’s first diploma in nanotechnology in 2010, a two-year program catering to more than 40 companies in and around Edmonton.

Great Plains College (multiple campuses, Saskatchewan)—Industry and Safety Training
Great Plains College’s slogan, “Education with Energy,” is applied literally at its Energy Training Centre, where post-secondary industry and safety training prepares students for careers in Saskatchewan’s oil and gas industries. It’s also home to the province’s only fall-hazard indoor training facility, the Fall Protection Tower, which opened as part of the newly renovated Swift Current Campus.

Northern Star College (Edmonton)—Hypnotherapy Certificate
Hypnotherapy isn’t for just hippies and mystics—it’s increasingly used in Canada for weight loss, smoking cessation, migraine treatment and as a therapy aid. Believers can start with a one-year certificate in hypnotherapy, which includes classes on essences and energy, systemic constellation, and self-hypnosis.

Lethbridge College (Lethbridge, Alta.)—Power Line Technician
Program Electricity experts say most of Canada’s infrastructure needs to be expanded or replaced—especially in Alberta, the country’s largest producer of energy, where 4,000 new skilled technicians will be required in the next five years. Since this January, Lethbridge’s progressive, up-to-date program (in partnership with the City of Lethbridge, Alta., Link and Rockstad Power Corp.) provides hands-on and theoretical training for the burgeoning field.

Steinbach Bible College (Steinbach, Man.)—Certificate of Ministry Studies
Ministers of tomorrow can study from a distance with Steinbach Bible College’s new online learning program. More than 30 fully transferable online courses—in the areas of Bible/theology, arts and sciences, and ministry—can count toward a certificate, diploma or even a Bachelor of Arts.

Humber College (Toronto)—Bachelor of Journalism
Journalism-bound students looking for a career in Toronto’s media scene can skip the traditional university route with Humber’s renowned four-year bachelor’s degree program. A broad first year is followed by a second-year specialization in one of four media facets: Humber runs a full television studio and radio station, as well as newspapers and magazines.

Seneca College (King City, Ont.)—Gerontology
Now that baby boomers have hit retirement age, shifting demographics will mean good business for gerontologists. Plenty of alternative retirement communities in the Greater Toronto Area will be hiring graduates of Seneca College’s gerontology program—transferable toward a degree in social work—who have learned skills in interventions, family communication, bereavement and grief.

St. Lawrence College (Kingston, Ont.)—Culinary
A revival in eastern Ontario’s artisanal cheese industry is creating new demand for culinary students who, through collaborations with students in biotechnology and business, are becoming lab researchers assisting local cheese makers. With the support of Ontario’s Ministry of Agriculture, St. Lawrence is researching not just taste and texture, but market needs and opportunities, as well as innovations in business processes.

Niagara College (Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ont.)—Winery, Viticulture and Brewery Studies
Niagara College’s Canadian Food and Wine Institute offers a combined approach to wine, culinary and beer education. Home to Canada’s only commercial teaching winery and fully licensed teaching brewery, it offers a variety of options for budding winemakers and brewmasters: winery, viticulture and brewery studies students choose from certificate, diploma or graduate programs.

Sheridan College (Oakville, Ont.)—Animation
Twenty-five years before Toy Story wowed moviegoers, Sheridan College offered animation, earning a reputation as “the Harvard of animation colleges.” Grads head straight to work with the digital giants—Pixar, Dreamworks and Cookie Jar—keeping Canada fiercely competitive in
alternative media and the 3D digital boom.

LaSalle College (Montreal)—Technical Clothing Designer
For fashionistas looking to showcase their creations in Montreal’s fashion scene, the International School of Fashion, Arts and Design at LaSalle College offers a one-year program in technical clothing—that is, high-performance snowboard, ski and scuba apparel. Students are trained from conceptualization to design of this high-value niche product that caters to Quebec’s sports scene.

Durham College (Oshawa, Ont.)—Web Applications for Mobile Commuting
Good or bad, a 2012 Rogers Communications survey found 65 per cent of us feel “naked” without our smartphones. But it’s very good news for savvy web developers, who might try this new graduate certificate (beginning in September 2013), where experienced working computer buffs can amp up their Apple and Android programming skills for use on new websites, apps, and whatever cutting-edge social media are next.

Fleming College (Cobourg, Ont.)—Solar Photovoltaic System
Planning & Installation Certificate Sarnia, Ont., was briefly home to the world’s largest photovoltaic solar farm—China and India have since copied our model—which generated power for more than 12,000 homes. Prospects in this growth industry are exponential, hence Fleming’s new solar program, including classes such as 3D computer modelling and drafting, renewable energies, and solar installation job site safety, all designed to meet criteria for the North American Board of Certified Energy Practitioners.

St. John’s Marine Institute (St. John’s, Nfld.)—Ocean Mapping
St. John’s Marine Institute offers a joint diploma/degree in ocean mapping, teaching the solid technical skills needed to collect, manage and analyze ocean data from the surface to the seabed. There’s no shortage of material for treasure hunters, either; Library and Archives Canada estimates more than 25,000 shipwrecks exist off of Canada’s East Coast.

Holland College (Summerside, P.E.I.)—Wind Turbine Technician
The global market for wind energy—sustainable and fuel-free, with no greenhouse gas emissions—is expanding faster than any other source of electric energy, and P.E.I. is emerging as one of the most progressive renewable energy leaders in North America. Holland College is preparing workers with its wind turbine technician program at its Summerside location, ripe with strong gusts to keep the windmills spinning.

College of the North Atlantic (multiple campuses, Newfoundland)—Emergency Management Education
Beyond the coast’s obvious natural disasters—hurricanes, snowstorms and flooding caused by the unruly Atlantic—government agencies have been expanding their emergency and contingency plans since 9/11. Graduates of the emergency management education program, with the help of cutting-edge 3D technology at the Manufacturing Technology Centre, will be prepared for any number of worst-case scenarios.

Nova Scotia Community College (multiple campuses, N.S.)—Fishing Master Certification
The second-smallest Canadian province exports a whopping $1 billion in fish to 90 countries around the world. To keep up with demand, Nova Scotia Community College’s School of Fisheries offers a fishing master certification, teaching everything from boating safety to fish-harvesting technology.

Nova Scotia Community College (Cumberland, N.S.)—Refrigeration and Air Conditioning: Geothermal
Nova Scotia Community College offers access to some of the world’s deepest abandoned coal mines—mines that have flooded over time—as the ideal setting to study refrigeration and air conditioning: geothermal. Two geothermal wells have been drilled below the campus, providing a “living” training lab for students to monitor and maintain geothermal energy—a cutting-edge trade aligning with Nova Scotia’s growing renewable energy sector.

Yukon School of Visual Arts (Dawson City, Yukon)—Visual Arts
A renewed art initiative merges the Yukon School of Visual Arts with the Tr’ondëk Hwëch’in, or People of the River, who have resided along the Yukon River for millennia. The progressive and holistic visual arts program, with a mandate to support First Nations arts and practices, is widely accepted across the whole country; it’s accredited at Emily Carr, OCAD, ACAD and more.

Aurora College (Yellowknife)—Introduction to Underground Mining
Settled in the ’30s after the discovery of gold, Yellowknife eventually shifted from a mining town to a government centre—until the mid-’90s diamond boom prompted the Northwest Territories to return to its roots. De Beers’ fourth mine, the Gahcho Kue, is currently in production, and the region will be ready: Aurora College’s community-based introduction to underground mining includes a “Ready to work North” course, which students fast-track through in just six weeks.

Nunavut Arctic College (multiple campuses, Nunavut)—Fur Production and Design
Head due north to Nunavut, where fur isn’t murder, it’s art. Fur production and design at Nunavut Arctic College teaches traditional Inuit methods to prepare sealskin, sew garments and sell them in a contemporary market. And students are at the top of their game: Former student Rosie Audlakiak’s form-fitting sealskin vest won first place at the 2010 national Fur Re-Invented competition in Montreal.

Yukon College (Whitehorse)—First Nations Governance and Public Administration
Given degree-granting status in 2009, Yukon a lready leads Canada with 14 First Nations self-governments—11 of which have settled their land claims. Tomorrow’s Aboriginal leaders train at Yukon College, where the First Nations governance and public administration program offers classes in economic development, power and influence and, of course, land claims.

Yukon College (Whitehorse)—Mineral Resources
Nature lovers flock to remote field camps to learn mineral exploration and mining in the vast Canadian wilderness. Students explore the terrain of the territory and the world of mining through a mixture of office and fieldwork before entering the workforce, where mineral resource grads are well paid and highly sought after.

Aurora College (Yellowknife)—Northern Leadership Development Program
With the sponsorship of their employers, talented Northerners demonstrating leadership skills at work can upgrade to management, supervisory or leadership positions—whatever their industry or business—via Aurora College, operating at three campuses and 23 community centres. Now in its second year, the northern leadership development program fosters a unique mentor-employee relationship that primes the worker for fast promotion into leadership roles. Courses include personal development, effective team leadership and conflict resolution.

Get out your party dresses, ladies; it’s Oscar season again. And as such, celebrity chatter—almost none of it about the films, mind you—will no doubt be great: Did you see Halle’s dress? Is Anne Hathaway too skinny now? Will Nicole Kidman’s face ever move freely again?

It’s nasty, yes, but it’s also natural—we’re social creatures with old habits. Before Perez Hilton put gossip at our fingertips, fans lined up for a glimpse of Madame Tussaud’s wax celebrities in 1835 and, before that, the ancient Greeks looked to their gods for gossip and drama. They even had a proverb to describe the plight of fame: “Whom the gods wish to destroy, they first make famous.”

The relationship between famous people and fans is closer—and more fickle—than ever before. “We used to admire people who were admirable,” says cultural anthropologist Grant McCracken, a Vancouver native and author of Culturematic. He’s referring to Old Hollywood, when talent and goodness—think Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant—reigned supreme. If Marilyn Monroe or Elizabeth Taylor had problems (uh, they did), fans didn’t always know the dirty details.

Now, Hollywood is in an age when paparazzi meet technology. “We know so much more about [stars] now; it’s a warts-and-all scenario that we watch through good and bad days,” says McCracken. This, fittingly, is both good and bad. “An awful lot of stars today are flawed humans with minimal talent. But we can identify with that.”

As the gap between celebrities and regular people closes, they depend on us for fame while we depend on them for identity. In this case, a little bit of celebrity can be good for you: A 2008 study by researchers at the University of Buffalo found that people with low self-esteem saw their favourite stars as versions of their ideal selves, which made them feel better about their real selves. This is how I feel about Tina Fey—she’s smart and funny and wears glasses, and I wanna be just like her.

But what happens when our fave celebs behave badly? If Fey were to get arrested for selling crack to orphans, would my identity suffer?

A case study: Last year, Kristen Stewart had a really, really bad day. Busted canoodling in a car with her married director, with photographic evidence to boot, Stewart admitted the affair via a very public statement. “I’m deeply sorry for the hurt and embarrassment I’ve caused to those close to me and everyone this has affected,” she said. “I love him, I love him, I’m so sorry.”

Stewart’s apology was to her boyfriend, Robert Pattinson, of course, but “everyone this has affected” is a deliberately broad group. Andrea Iseman, a 29-year-old blogger in Toronto, is a huge Twilight fan who has seen every film on opening day. “When I read about K-Stew cheating, I was shocked,” she says. Iseman’s new favourite celeb is Taylor Swift.

Iseman has a three-or-four-times-a-day gossip-site habit, not including her own site, celebspiration.com. According to New York psychologist James Houran, co-developer of the Celebrity Worship Scale (CWS), she’s very normal. The CWS isn’t a diagnostic tool, as there’s no official celebrity-obsession syndrome (yet), but it does use a series of yes/no statements—from “The successes of my favourite celebrities are my successes also” to “When my favourite celebrity dies, I will feel like dying too”—to plop everyone into a three-stage scale.

Stage one is called Entertainment/Social, and most of us are already here. “If you have a pulse, are connected with the outside world and live in Western society, you’re going to indulge in a little celeb gossip,” says Houran. In stage two, Intense/Personal, things get closer to home. “People start meshing their identity with that of their favourite celebrity.” Houran estimates that a quarter of the general population is at this level.

Finally, there’s the Borderline/Pathological stage, where 10 percent of people fall. “Here, things can get very dysfunctional. For example, you may spend money you don’t have on celebrity memorabilia, withdraw from friends and family and spend a lot of time and energy trying to meet the celebrity,” says Houran. The news is rife with more stage-three fans than ever before: Alec Baldwin’s stalker, convinced she was his girlfriend, smiled at reporters while being arrested; Jennifer Aniston’s carried a list of potential baby names.

Thankfully, I’m not anywhere close to camping out in anyone’s bushes—especially when TMZ will do it for me—but I’ll admit that I’m firmly in the Intense/Personal category. And I understand completely when Houran calls his scale “a slippery slope.” I still have a secret stash of expensive Princess Diana memorabilia. When Whitney Houston died, I found myself moping to “I Will Always Love You” on repeat. Ditto for Amy Winehouse, Heath Ledger and even Andy Griffith. When he died, a three-day thundercloud engulfed me. As if Matlock were a wise old uncle, I mourned and recovered in the conventional way.

“I remember the day Michael Jackson died,” recalls Shane “Fame” Alexander, a 34-year-old writer and “huge pop-culture freak” from Newmarket, Ont. “I felt like a friend had passed. I don’t remember a time when Michael wasn’t part of my life. Dude taught me to dance.”

Of course, dude did not teach Alexander to dance—they’d never even met—but there’s a term for what he’s describing. “Parasocial interaction is generally a one-sided relationship between the fan and the celebrity,” explains Houran. “We form an attachment, which leads to a relationship—at least in our heads.” The term first popped up in the 1950s with the rise of television, but it was modern social media that sealed the deal.

“We looked at preoccupation with the Internet to see if it correlates with celebrity worship, and, of course, it does,” says Houran. Canadians spend more than 43 hours a month on the Web—the most of any country and almost twice the worldwide average of 23 hours. We’re also the most prolific users of Facebook, YouTube and—the uppity celeb’s platform du jour—Twitter.

It’s a tempting premise: Just one click and you can follow your fave celeb’s every thought, which he or she is gifting you for nothing at all. Avid tweeters let us in on the minutiae of their daily lives—“cereal is really good,” noted Justin Bieber to 30 million followers—which arrive in tidbits that we weave into our own daily lives. Bieber’s relationship with fans, he told Oprah, is completely different from that of any star that came before him. “I’m able to really connect with them through the Internet,” he said. “I try to respond to as many as I can.”

By interacting, celebs like Bieber encourage parasocial relationships—but not always for the right reasons. “Remember: When a celebrity sends out news or tweets, they’re not doing it for you. They’re doing it to capture and keep a market,” says Houran. Fame is more valued and sought after than ever before, but it’s also more fleeting. “Modern celebrities aren’t timeless. They’re of this time—they’re somehow attached to right now,” says McCracken. “But they’re also totally replaceable, and the moment we’re sick of them is the same moment they disappear.”

If you’re too involved, you might feel like you want to disappear too. And, like with any other addiction, the threshold is when wants become needs. If this is you, go cold turkey on Us Weekly, find a new hobby and work on knowing yourself instead. Remember that celebs are in the business of being known, but, paradoxically, we in no way really “know” them—despite what reality TV and social media want you to believe.