No one likes change but babies in diapers,” once said Barbara Johnson, American literary critic and poststructuralist professor at Harvard University who died in 2009.

Sex without consent isn’t sex. It’s sexualized assault. Period. But how do we know when we’re engaging consensually? Better yet, how can we actively ensure enthusiastic consent in our relationships? When we actively work to ensure consent is present, we have sex where we’re communicating and enthusiastic.

You are suffering from overhydration,” Dr. Wayne Smith said, running a hand through his greying hair. “You are drinking so much water that it is becoming like a poison in your body.”

I stand at the edge of the roadside, patient, my thumb directed confidently skywards. I am perched on the precipice of possibility. Freedom. The road extends enticingly. It pulsates with promise. Everything I need is in a pack resting at my feet. Liberty. The opposite side of the highway beckons, teasing with the allure of an alternate destiny. All that stands between me and changing my fate is a dozen steps and a dashed yellow line. Independence. I can feel the desiccating prairie wind stumble with heat stroke through the shimmering waves, rising from the baking Saskatchewan asphalt. Then again, I may be mistaken. Perhaps what I hear is the rustle of leaves from the New England maples that border the lazy, rolling roads of Vermont. Or maybe I am seeing the sun-soaked surf in the distance, interrupting my Vancouver Island vantage point from the towering coastal range of mainland British Columbia. Not that it matters. I am hitchhiking, and the journey is just as important as the destination.

It’s 3 p.m. on a Monday and I’m sitting in my afternoon writing lecture. The professor has been reviewing their Powerpoint slides for the past half-hour and my attention has inevitably slipped away from the content of the class. In one open window of my laptop, I’m brewing ideas for the paper due at the end of this week; in another, I’m editing photos for a commercial photo shoot I did over the weekend. In my busy life, this is the perfect opportunity to get some work done. I half-listen to the lecture, perking up when a question is asked.

Photography by TESS FORSYTH

Styling by VANESSA ANNAND and VANESSA HAWK

Modelling by ELLA WEATHERILT, JOEL O’ROURKE, MARYSE BERNARD and JEFF MCALLISTER

I first remember hearing about acupuncture back when I was in elementary school. My mom was seeing an acupuncturist for some reason, and I remember her talking about the profound emotional and psychological impact the experience was having on her.

My little brother Tyler was a still lump under a pile of light baby blankets. He was six weeks old and weighed less than five pounds — about the same as a small cat. He lay motionless in his crib. Only his quiet, trembling breaths gave any indication that he was alive. Upstairs in the foster home, his three older siblings played on the floor of the bright living room while he slept in darkness.

When I first enter the 10 000-square foot opera shop on Discovery Street where Pacific Opera Victoria (POV) builds its productions, I am struck by the emptiness of the front room. POV is the only opera company in Canada that builds sets from scratch for every opera it produces. I’d expected every square inch of the shop to be bristling with Valkyrie costumes and Viking helmets from past shows. Instead, a few employees eat lunch at a sparse table. A single piece of paper is pinned to a large bulletin board. On the paper is a picture of a tree that’s fallen and crushed a house. Under the picture are the words, “I’m a lumberjack and I’m — oh, shit.”

U Vic athletics has made an uncanny discovery this year — a gene that promotes soccer success. For the first time in Bruce Wilson’s 25-year reign as head coach of the Vikes men’s soccer team, three brothers — Lucas, Wesley and Gavin Barrett; 25, 23 and 21 respectively — are playing for him at the same time.

For $32, Julie Gubisch will transform someone into a Mexican bandit. For 44, she’ll make a couple into swashbuckling pirates — eye patch optional. For 60 she’ll turn three young tourists into saloon girls. For eight people or more, see pack¬ages. Dogs, add $10.

Healing Farm is an ecosystem unto itself. Fruit trees, honeybees, nuts, free-range egg-laying chickens and patches of forest and meadow make up the 18-acre rural Saanich farm. The farm’s owners, Mike and Sharyn Romaine, aim to facilitate a “reconnection between people and their environment” by providing certified organic products. As my friends and I drove onto the farm, we stopped to photograph a colourful yellow bird flying about the surrounding woods, which are a part of the property left alone to preserve ecological integrity, prevent soil erosion and help regulate water.

This past weekend, Victoria was rocked by the fourth annual Rifflandia Festival. Check out the images from our photo feature below.

Dr. Laurenz Thomsen from Jacobs University, Germany, turns on his laptop, takes a sip of coffee and logs into the NEPTUNE Canada cabled seafloor network. He turns on the light to see the ocean floor halfway around the globe and wraps his hands around the controls of Wally, a deep-sea crawler robot whose name was inspired by the Disney movie Wall-E.

From singing “Redemption Song” with 10 000 people at my first 4/20 celebration in Vancouver to witnessing police cars set ablaze from metres away during the Stanley Cup Riot to an eight-day desert survival journey at Burning Man, a kaleidoscope of summer experiences threw me across challenging boundaries.

Even if you have never been, you’ve probably heard about it. Maybe from your friends, a co-worker or a family member. It’s Shambhala, and it’s the biggest party in Western Canada. Shambhala has taken place every August for 14 years on a farm near Salmo, B.C., in the Kootenays. Rick and Sue Bundschuh own the sprawling Salmo River Ranch, while their three kids, Jimmy Bundschuh, Corrine Zawaduk and Anna Bundschuh, are in charge of the festival. It’s become the family business.

Here’s the thing: Nothing really matters. I’m not very old, but I know this for sure. There isn’t a thing that is worth a damn on this whole blue earth. Those countless hours spent by the brutish and astute dwelling on the meaning of life, on the divine, on existence are all for naught. They won’t get anywhere and it wouldn’t matter if they did. We’ll all be ground to dust just the same. Don’t look at me. Blame scientists.

In recent years honeybee colonies have been in rapid decline, with some North American beekeepers losing 50 to 100 per cent of their honeybees each year. This phenomenon has been dubbed Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD) in North America.

Climate change threatens Island food security

Considering the growing popularity of farmers’ markets in B.C., many of us aren’t foreign to the local food movement. But according to climate change and food security experts, there is growing evidence to incite us to accelerate the movement and push for the provincial government to do more than is currently being done.

One of the first things you notice about Gabrielle Kind and Mitch Hawes, two young broadcasting graduates based out of Victoria, is their indefatigable enthusiasm. It’s a characteristic that is crucial for anyone branching out into the media field today. Record low profits, audience fragmentation and changing cultural trends have seen radio’s allure dwindle in the age of satellite and streaming music channels.