I’m an Albertan through and through. I know it now because, here in the Mojave desert where cows as I know them can’t take the heat, I just tasted some cheese and asked my husband if he thought it tasted like the cheese back home. Yes, the cheese back home. That not so famous orange,… Read more »
Long time Voice writer Audrey Karperien’s articles always receive high praise for their originality, insight, and quirky, smart humour. The Disembodied Student Body, published on February 26, 2003 [v11 i09], is both an imaginative tribute to the diverse and diffuse nature of the AU student community, and a vivid example of Audrey’s unique style. Smack…. Read more »
Smack. Smack. Smack. Thousands of hits on thousands of tables. Thousands of AU study guides flip open, computers whir to life, monitors emit, emails ping back and forth. And the spirits of thousands of distant-edders cheer in renewal of their commitment to the vow that they will one day finish TME2. We grit our teeth… Read more »
My new editor asked me a question. She asked: Did you have a major system shock coping with the climate change from England? A fair question. But it can only be understood if you know my situation. I’m a Canadian, an Albertan, to be specific. I’ve been doing distance ed since before the hoodoos were… Read more »
Only by grace am I writing this now, for sadly, my new computer died this morning. Again. I bought it last week. Every harried distance ed student needs a computer. We rely on them to get our papers out on time, to contact our tutors:we depend on them. The one I’d been using was taken… Read more »
They say she was a gypsy. I’m fairly certain she wasn’t a spy. Her birth certificate says she was born in Alberta. But the year is scratched out. She had this thick Russian accent. And a distinctively folksy Slavic farmer chic about her. She wore a purple babushka, kept a flask of vodka in her… Read more »
Unashamedly exhausted, after hoarsely whispering “It is done,” he beseeched, “Why have you forsaken me?” and closed his eyes. I was not without heart; I could feel his pain. I knew he needed me to acknowledge the honour he had won for himself, our family, our country. The gruelling ritual was finally over. Sole representative… Read more »
For those trapped in their vacuums, glued to the wall by blobs of strawberry jam, obsessed by the quest for the perfect mildew remover, or oppressed by male oppression (the worst kind), The Voice’s Sandra had some sound advice last week: your prison is your own. So, guardian of your own destiny, run the vacuum… Read more »
Suicidal moths pinging against my window, I read. I read again. I write it down. I invert it. I write it down inverted. I break it into phrases. I look each word up. Each one. One at a time. Like the death bent moths, one by one by one by one: Then I realize it’s… Read more »
They say she was a gypsy. I’m fairly certain she wasn’t a spy. Her birth certificate says she was born in Alberta. But the year is scratched out. She had this thick Russian accent. And a distinctively folksy Slavic farmer chic about her. She wore a purple babushka, kept a flask of vodka in her… Read more »