Short of reading business and technology news, I'd really love a bunch of sources that are just the raw, unadulterated facts, without the sensationalist B.S that is injected into every story depending on the perspective and political leanings of the media engine that housed it, let alone the journalist. It gets very tiresome leapfrogging to different companies and sources, trying to get to the essence of the truth and forming my own opinions. Maybe one day, we'll have that automatic, unbiased source... For now, I dream.

When I read these post about being checked out or approached by a person in a public space I can't help and think what these delicate flower's would do with themselves if they were in Italy, Portugal France? In Italy, Portugal or France people check one another out. What they are wearing, who they are with, what flavour of ice cream they are eating and yes they check one another's asses out. It's so apart of the culture the Italians make it a part of their day. They go out after supper and check one another out. What would a Vancouverite do, stop and yell " I won't be objectified!!"? They have this natural curiosity that's been snuffed out here. They behave like humans. Do you have any idea how ridiculous and boring you have all become? You're becoming robots.

I'm grateful for being as simple and humble as I am. People would kill themselves over things that I simply accept. I don't feel the need to throw fits or tantrums and scream that things are unfair, even when they are absolutely unfair. I just observe, and smile inside, knowing who and what I am.

I recently watched a documentary about Milawi and how happy the people are there, faced with such intense struggles, and me here, standing in line to buy groceries at Whole Foods, feeling miserable about how long it's taking to work off my gut, and thinking about baby Trudeau wanting to bail out Texas billionaires. We're so fucked.

I once saw an apple in the staff room and thought it was from the previous night. Turns out it belongs to my boss, who often brings apples in and leaves them there for her lunch later. I bring in snacks all the time so it evens out, right?

It still turns over and over in my mind. All the drama. All the crashing waves and violent spray. I made a few mistakes. It's hard to fight the tide. I did what I could to hold together my sandcastle together as it washed away, and by the time I realized it was the ocean I wanted, it was too late. She had changed her mind and pulled away. I'd like to know though if there was anything ever there, or if that is just what an ocean is.

Just better health care, more expensive, and less freedom of speech.

When I was in my thirties, experiencing some of the most powerful sexual urges I have ever had, I was also a single parent going to university to try to finish a degree. It was so difficult to have any kind of a relationship or even to have five minutes for myself so often I would walk around with a kind of uncontrolled lust raging in my body and it ended up becoming triggered as well by the professors who lectured in my classes. It started to excite me because of course the professor always assumes a position of authority in the classroom, and my sex starved imagination took over and created such a strong feeling of desire that I had to take time to go to the washroom and relieve myself quickly... thirty years later I find myself wondering why I did not just go out and satisfy myself with someone rather than suffer so much but there was so much guilt around seeking sex with a child in the situation, did not dare to risk a real relationship so lived on fantasies....

I came upon some information that your boyfriend cheated on you. How many out there would want a phone call telling them the truth??? Or should I leave it be and let her discover it eventually on her own.

2 years ago I came home from dropping the kids off at school and went up to the bathroom and saw wet towels on the floor. I had told my husband to put them in the laundry hamper and he obviously did not listen. I spent the next 2 hours in the bathroom crying on the floor. The wet towels were a metaphor for our marriage and everything that was wrong with it. I decided then and there that I could no longer be with this man because I couldn't sacrifice my life for his. I needed someone that would light my soul on fire. Its been a hard 2 years and I often think that if he had only put the wet towels in the laundry hamper maybe we would still be together. My kids were seriously impacted by my decision and I blame myself because they act out and aren't the sweet innocent children they once were.