My confession is that anytime someone wishes me a "Happy FriYAY", I want to slap them. It was cute the first time but 47 times later....
Money runs this place and if you aren't flush with cash you are only in the way to the policy makers who are cashing in left and right. We are being played for fools and no one can do anything about it because you're either profiting from this scheme or struggling too hard to do anything but live day by day.
The working people of Vancouver being exploited is a mental health crisis waiting to explode. The government doesn't care about the people, the companies don't care about the people, the medical system doesn't care about the people and there is no more community to speak of.
The opioid crisis and cannabis dependency are such obvious results of such a toxic environment. Vancouver's own Dr Gabor Mate wrote a book about drug abuse being a result of broken societies and UBC is where the rat park experiment proved that well cared for beings don't seek comfort through supplements.
People of the generations before us mostly had oblivion to rely on. We have to seek our oblivion in craft beer, sparkling rosé and Instagram reality because knowing how badly we are being screwed over on every level is too much for our spirits to handle. Vancouver is a prime example of the "could not beat them so I joined them" mentality.
Anyone who denies the experience of people discussing racially charged nuances in their life is fundamentally racist. If you say racism doesn't exist, I know you're one of them and I steer clear.
This confession was inspired by one I just read from yesterday called “poor travellers”
First of all I would like anyone reading this to know that I spent my late teens and early adult life homeless and living on the street/outside in general in Vancouver. As such, I feel I have a pretty unique perspective on this issue. There are several reasons I ended up there, but briefly: drug addiction, family problems, falling through the cracks... blah, blah, blah the usual stuff. No one to blame but myself really.
My life took a turn for the better just over a decade ago. But before that, I did my best not to be seen. Which of course is impossible, but never in my life did I sleep on the sidewalk of say, Granville street downtown. I did my best to sleep “comfortably” in alleys, stairwells, under bridges, and the occasional abandoned house.
(It was never comfortable; one morning I was sleeping in an alley behind a business on Main st. somewhere south of Broadway. The weather was cold and wet. I was pregnant. Despite having fallen asleep somewhere outdoors and not in anyone’s way, that I thought would keep me dry, I woke up being drenched with icy cold water. It was coming out of a hose the business owner was deliberately spraying me with. I’d like to think I was able to have a hot shower somewhere after that, but I don’t recall. Another time, a group of young guys thought it would be fun to throw large rocks at my tent, not knowing at first if anyone was in it. There was someone in it, me, and it wasn’t fun. I tried yelling at them to stop. I tried yelling for help. They didn’t stop, and help never came. I was scared to come out so I just covered my head with a pillow, hoping they would leave soon without causing me any serious injuries)
Despite never receiving welfare and never having had a job during that time of my life, I never once panhandled, scammed, stole from people’s homes or cars.
(I also want to add that I didn’t sell my body. That was my personal choice. Some people don’t get to choose, as for those who do, it is a perfectly legitimate line of work in my opinion.)
When I see people panhandling or scamming it makes me furious. I still struggle financially, nothing like before, but I still can’t afford to hand out my pocket change, nor would I for anyone who asked me for it. The panhandlers and scammers may have it a little rough. But I’ve known so many of them personally and I am telling you, firsthand, many of them are self serving, lazy, entitled a$$holes, and are undeserving of your money. Christmas time was always tempting for me to panhandle when I’d see the hundreds of dollars a day, the food, and the presents those leeches sucked up. But honestly, I’m glad I didn’t.
The exceptions I give are to seniors who I can tell are not career panhandlers, and anyone who has something to offer that I want or I enjoy. For example, a guy selling his art outside a nightclub (still need to get my own K.Foster), or a busker playing the guitar and sharing her beautiful voice with the world.
You wanna give money directly to someone who needs it?
Give it to the guy in the dumpster. The kid sleeping in an alley. The lady who tries to conceal the tent she lives in in a wooded area you go to walk your dog.
Wanna help someone directly without giving money? Offer a ride to the elderly person using a walker with a few bags of empty bottles you just drove by at a skytrain station or bus stop. Don’t have a car? Offer to help them on or off the bus.
Most people are too proud to ask for or even sometimes accept help. Use your better judgment and just help when the situation calls for it.
And by no means am I saying you have an obligation to be a good person. My message is for those want to be, but need a little guidance. Basically, open your eyes! Observe the humans around you. Be curious, use your imagination and get in touch with your empathy. Be kind!
And thank you from the bottom of my heart to the few who were generous and kind to me when I had nothing to offer them in return!
I hate fiddling with traditional wallets: the pockets, zippers, snaps. I just throw everything into a ziplock bag. This way I can see my cards and cash right away. I just don’t have the time to sort coins, receipts, cards, bills everyday.
You're so hard to read, and you drive me absolutely insane. I wish you'd just stop pushing me away, it's like the minute you started to feel what I felt, and we're starting to "catch feelings", you totally turned into a different person, to try to change your feelings... Ouch...
And as if im still falling in love with you.
I hate fake eyelashes...... how come nobody can be identical anymore. How come everything is fake , has become fake; eyelashes. boobs, fingernails, toenails , faces, skin and the list is endless.... where did we go wrong.....?!? and when........?!?
About thirty years ago or so, I knew a girl in my school who was a rebel through and through. She hated authority it seemed, skipping school at the age of 14, smoking, drinking and cussing, even having sex with more than one person in our school. When I asked her how she could do all this, she laughed at me. She also got away with stealing her parent's motorhome and crashing it into a boulevard, stealing native headdress bonnets from the Bay by putting them on and walking out, and leather coats and suits from other stores. I used to think she was brave, at least, because it seemed she never got caught and if she did get into trouble she rebounded quickly. Now with the internet I found out her uncle was a police officer and her father a politician, which may explain a few things. She also left Canada for the States for a few years and never has a picture posted on the internet. I no longer feel that she was really ever a friend, but what shocks me the most is that I never knew how she got away with everything and she never told me.
What irks me the most about the laws that will be coming into force are the laws regarding cultivation and possession of marijuana. It is really terribly difficult to understand why alcohol is available in unlimited quantities and indeed promoted heavily meanwhile the absolutely less harmful recreational or medicinal substance is demonized once again. It has been at least 40 years since I have gotten piss drunk, although I do enjoy a glass of wine, a beer, etc moderation is key, and while on the other hand just use medicinal marijuana for the most part, to function as a normal human being, use far more of it with less harmful effect. Overall health is good, no kidney problems, no addiction issues, no driving while impaired. Today's youth are enjoying the pleasures of people who for many decades stubbornly refused to quit smoking weed, always believing in the ultimate "good" or positive effect and seeking to increase that for the user by creating more useful strains. This should be acknowledged somehow in my opinion, by everyone who appreciates what is now coming to pass as some of the stigma may be removed. Can you imagine if the government tried to tell you how many beer or what type to buy? Or that you could not even make your own? It seems a monumental shame to bring about the legalization in this way, hope it changes.
There is just nothing I can do to save save them from it. They have no idea what they've done, they have no idea what's coming, and I have no way to explain it to them. They are so screwed. They have no idea of how lost, without hope they're going to become. I shouldn't even care. They did it to themselves, all because they didn't want to listen. They are doomed.
Same old ghosts. Wish you were here to help with that
As a fan of history I enjoy reading about the prosperity of ancient
(and not so ancient ) cities reaping the rewards of their successful trading relations , the fabulous buildings , statuary , plazas . The residents enjoying the wealth so created and most of the citizenry enjoying the party.
Here we are , a modern day gateway to the rest of the country and the USA . The port absolutely teeming with activity, cruise ships, cargo , containers , tourists. The airport full to bursting point
What do WE get ?
Well we get higher property prices and taxes , people unable to afford to live here, spartan and high priced public services and not a sign of all the money that's rolling in from the port or the airport.
So where the fuck is it being spent, where's the benefits of a throbbing, dynamic, booming city to its residents.
All we seem to get is a bigger bill in the mail every month, no benefits from the cascade of money that's flowing in.
The dystery meepens
Every time your story paints you in a bad light, you go and you change your entire story. Don't keep trying to tell me I did something wrong. We both know you're a big nosed liar! And I guarantee that surround you know it to, they just don't tell you to your face because they don't want to have to put up with that indignant and petty side of you.
My little boy is 5 years old and I’m starting to realize that my boy will be my boy. He loves dancing and singing more than sports and cars. I LOVE sports and cars and I used to dream of sharing this love with my son. But most of all, I love him the most. I’m not going to push sports on him and I’m going to sing my heart out with him like he wants me to. I’m just getting used to all this.
"Holden... Holden!..." I heard a woman calling her cat (I assume it was a cat, it was small and not responding what ever it was). I immediately thought of Holden Caulfield - who else is named Holden? I stopped to watch to see what a cat named Holden Caulfield looked like. She saw me looking.