They're all about thought-policing and it is impossible to have a date with one without politics coming up right away. Unfortunately, it seems like that is all that exists on campus.

It must be nice to just sign-up for that.... I wish I didn't try. I have the slightest bit too much money so I do not qualify, but work my ass off. I can see why people just quit their jobs and work their way into the permanent "take care of me government!" system.

Like, why aren't people getting along? It's a relatively safe area that people want to live in... instead, people are being forced to agree with ideas like it is some extremist totalitarian time?

I wonder if I’m the only person who feels that the word “Wokeness” is so overused these days. It’s just another laughable “controversy” created by people who claim to hate cancel culture but spend their time cancelling groups they don't like.

Well, I finally wrote to Translink recently, beseeching them to come up with a way to get riders to take off their backpacks when on the Skytrain. I even gave them some suggestions. They did reply. It was some boilerplate language about how they appreciate rider feedback. This isn't new news to them but am at a loss as to why they don't bother doing anything about it. I pay the same price for a ticket as other riders do, except many have a two-foot deep sack slung to their backs taking up the space of 2 people. Meanwhile, we're all jammed in there, crab walking around each other trying to find space or get in or out. The best is when pack-toting riders attempt to "get out of the way" and turn sideways - sending their Santa sack careening into some other rider. Then, after hitting them, they look all doe-eyed...."sorry" they mumble, and then turn the opposite way, swinging back in the direction from whence they came, plowing into the person at their other side. If it wasn't so frustrating, it'd be comical. Get out of your head and have a look around you. I, (and a few others) are there blinking, dumbfounded as to how you could be so oblivious to your own actions. Having an just an ounce (or 29ml if you prefer) of self-awareness, could be such an easy collective solution to what is a chronically overcrowded transit system. I don't get angry or cause a fuss. There's no point. But I do regularly ask people to please lower their backpacks. It's my ticket's space too. And if I had wanted to dance, I'd have asked.

It was really easy to flirt and romance at the office. Today, it's just an idea that gets you fired. No wonder everyone hardly lives at the office and dies single these days.

I can’t help but feel ripped off left, right and centre. What used to be a loaf of my favourite bread is now 1/3 smaller at the same price. Like the bread manufacturer thought consumers would not notice. It’s so obviously smaller! My previous go-to pastry used to have a full egg across the bun. The egg is now a 1” wide strip down the middle. I threw it out in disgust. A mid-level comedian is coming to town next year. I searched for tickets, and it will cost $2200 for 1 ticket. So I’ve decided that while restaurants are struggling, and theatres need filling, I’m not partaking in these consumer shenanigans on my dime. Not buying Xmas presents, not giving my money away for the next several months. So tired of this “new normal”.

It was easier to love you and our friendship when we were both in the same boat. We hated where we lived but making the best ot it, struggling to make ends meet. Now you've taken a great leap of faith and I'm completely stagnant. I don't know why I'm stagnant, just that I am. Time is flying by regardless of who's enjoying life and who is miserable. Listening to how great your life is going is dull and makes me depressed. Yes I realize that sounds selfish.

I am working 80 hours a week and am barely getting by in this City. Between rent, cost of food, and everything else its like I am saving barely anything at the end of every month. I don't care what anyone else thinks I need a guy that makes decent money. I can't marry for just love.

I don’t want to leave. Vancouver is home. But on a Friday night, or any night for that matter, where am I? My apartment. Sitting in candlelight lost in thought. Embarrassingly the place is barely larger than my childhood bedroom growing up in the back country. There’s pressure to settle down in a small town. I have little life outside of my job here, my favourite haunts that I can no longer afford, friends that have moved away. The neighbourhoods are changing. More skyscrapers sprouting on the skyline. I skim through events hoping I’ll find something that sparks a feeling of life in me but nothing comes. I want to live and I don’t know why or how. Starting again somewhere else feels like defeat. My life isn’t a Hallmark movie. I don’t know where to go and I don’t want to leave, but it feels like there’s nothing here for me. There’s no place like home, anymore.