My (50M) oldest Cooper (18M) just graduated highschool. Me and the wife have a college fund set up for him that we've been putting in since he was little. It's a pretty substantial amount. He doesn't actually need it though as he got full rides on football and academic scholarships if he wants them. He's a really strong and bright kid.
Cooper has been dating this boy Kristopher (18M) for about two yrs now. Even though he's a little rough around the edges he's a good kid and we generally like him. Apparently Kristopher is signing up to the marines. Well last week Cooper decides to tell us that he's not going to school and that he and Kristopher are going to get married after he finishes Basic. You can guess I wasn't to happy with that..
I asked him why he'd give up so much like that abd he just responded that he wanted to always stay close to Kristopher and start a life with him. He then asked if he could use his college fund to do so. I quickly reminded him that he's barely 18 and that he's never lived outside our house before much less living with a partner. He got mad and told he could handle it and it was his choice.
Which started a whole argument about how he was wasting his potential and giving up his plans just to follow Kristopher around. I told him the college fund was for college and I wasn't gonna let him throw his life away for some boy. That he couldn't get it unless he went to college. AITA?

The day seemed like it would be ordinary until the aeronautical community’s most sought after document showed up on my doorstep.
It came wrapped in brown kraft paper tied off with twine, and the exterior packaging had no return address nor any indication of a postage stamp. It was as though it had been simply bundled up and dropped into my wall-mounted mailbox by a random passerby.
No part of me was willing to surrender the strange parcel without opening it first. Regardless of who its contents truly belonged to, my eyes would be the first to see it. I removed the twine and then dug a thumb under a fold in the packaging paper before clawing it away to expose a brown tan notebook circa 1900. It was full grain buffalo leather with a crisscross of cord for the spine and a thick hand cut string keeping it sealed shut.
When I undid the string, the pages that had been gripped tight by the leather fanned out gently then returned to their original position, my eyes landing on the front page. It was without a printer’s mark and read in big handwritten type: “THE DIARY AND RECORD OF HENRY H. HELGELAND.”
I knew in that instant the package was in the hands of who it was rightfully sent out for. Not just because I’d recently lost my job as an associate at our city’s art museum but because of a separate, much deeper connection to the diary’s author.
Perhaps it’s in my best interests to turn it over to the National Archives, or the US Arctic Research Commission, or maybe even the U.S. Capitol Visitor Center, but at the risk of seeing it blue-penciled to death, I’ve elected to instead share it here and now.
The world needs to know what happened.
---
Henry H. Helgeland — my great grandfather — was a severe looking man with a walrus mustache and a bone to pick with anyone who ever doubted him. He was born in Oakland, California in 1871 and was, by all available accounts relayed to me, well-behaved and well-liked. His father worked a lucrative job in the shipping industry, transporting timber between San Francisco and the Central Valley. Two years into Henry’s life, his mother would contract a fatal case of diphtheria and die shortly thereafter; when he was old enough to understand what had happened, Henry “yearn[ed] fervently for a reunion to mend [his] great anguish and sorrow.”
Near the turn of the 20th century, Henry attended Stanford University’s Department of Mechanical Engineering, where he learned everything from thermodynamics to machine design. But it was a lecture about polar transportation that would ultimately kindle his interest in a separate enterprise: arctic exploration. Indeed, the race to the North Pole was well underway, with naval officers, geologists, and aeronauts around the globe vying for the chance to make history. My great grandfather, like many of his peers, propounded the theory that he, and he alone, would be the first to reach the Great White North.
In 1895, Henry graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree in mechanical engineering and sought to expand the member list of the so called Ascension Society, a student organization he’d assembled to aid engineering graduates with materials science. Many of its constituents had engaged in research projects and experimental setups to hone their craft of mechanical systems, but in time, however, the venture would instead prove a hotspot for investors and philanthropists. Donations averaging up to $5,000 helped fund and promote the fantastic ambitions of my great grandfather. So long as the Ascension Society was gracing him with their support, he’d be the first to reach the North Pole.
In early 1898, armed with enough capital, Henry used the proceeds to purchase the materials required for the balloon.
---
A notable circus at the forefront of traveling attractions in the early twentieth century was The Fielding Troupe. With its impressive lineup of talent — from fire eaters and aerialists to equestrians and strongmen — the ensemble drew crowds from nearly every town in western America during its historic run. Its wide reach would ultimately reel in many notable faces, including my great grandfather.
Prior to a performance in Oakland, the Fielding Troupe led a procession through the town around Stanford University, announcing their arrival with a parade of wagons, floats, and animals. The strategy, as it were, was to drum up as much publicity and fanfare as possible. Evidently it worked, as a healthy fraction of the faculty and student body at Stanford made the trip over to Oakland in order to see the troupe in action.
Surrounding their arena with two hundred feet of heavy duty tent canvas, the troupe put on a show for the ages the night Henry was in attendance, with extravagant acrobatics, trained animal performances, and a special appearance from Curtis the Clown. Following a skillful display of juggling and good natured audience ribbing, Curtis’s master stroke was an intricate stunt involving balloons and wire flying. Firstly, he would inflate several multi-colored balloons and tie them off with string, securing them firmly in his grip. They served as a flashy distraction from the piece of flexible metal snaking out from the harness he had concealed under his equally flashy costume. Then, with a whisper of strength, a couple stagehands hoisted the balloon-carrying clown thirty feet into the air to make it appear as though he was levitating by virtue of the balloons alone. A separate performer — a marksman — showed off his sharpshooting skills with a Winchester model rifle and gunned down the balloons, exploding each one as the stagehands loosened their hold on Curtis’s harness until he was eased to the ground.
Henry watched the routine with eager delight. Seeing Curtis the Clown float above a hundred or so onlookers helped stir within him a plan. The ceiling of the Big Top Tent where Curtis had concluded his ascent represented more than the centerpiece of a traveling circus.
“Ascendancy,” Henry muttered to his wife Ruth. “This is how we get to the top of the world.”
---
The spherical vessel measured sixty-five feet in diameter, with a capacity of over 200,000 cubic feet. Its construction was overseen by Henry and a couple french engineers who installed in its gondola three berths and ample ballast to keep it stable. The gondola, a carefully constructed assemblage of wicker and chestnut wood, was built as such to bar any interference to the magnetic instruments of the explorers. Keeping it shielded against severe weather conditions was a varnished silk calotte and a vaselined net composed of over four-hundred hemp cords. A bamboo pole was attached bellow the carrying ring to attach the side sails and, perhaps most notably, the balloon was fitted with hemp and cocoa nut fiber guide ropes to help steer and maintain a consistent altitude.
After two years of exhaustive construction, work on the balloon was completed in 1900. Henry named it Ascension, after the society that funded its creation.
---
What follows are several selected passages lifted directly from Henry’s memorandum, transcribed by me. The first entry reads:
“At nine o'clock on the forenoon, May 5, 1900, under the auspices of the Ascension Society, we embarked from the 71st parallel on our quest of the Pole. Our great journey sets off from Point Barrow, Alaska following a grueling adventure aboard the steamer Sursum. I, Henry Helgeland, travel forth, accompanied by Charles Ringvold, esteemed navigator, and Edward Meyer, long celebrated physician, into the arctic wilderness. Together, our efforts will generate a most formidable team and an unwavering spirit. We will ascend.”
Indeed, the SS Sursum disembarked from a port in San Francisco in mid May of that year; it offered easy access to the Pacific Ocean and sailed through the Bering Strait, covering over 3,000 nautical miles before reaching Point Barrow on July 2.
When the balloon took off, carried by a fierce north east wind, it was to a thunderous applause from those that had come to bear witness to the bold endeavor. Among them were crew members of the SS Sursum, high ranking associates of the Ascension Society, and carpenters tasked with helping the balloon reach its initial phase of liftoff.
As it elevated to 300 hundred feet and passed around an onlooking whaler, Henry was reported to have shouted: “To the top of the world, hurrah!”
---
36 hours would elapse before a second entry was made.
“July 4, 1900, Lat. 77° 48' N, Long. 143° 4' W. We are soaring at a height of 600 feet above the Earth's surface, traveling at a speed of approximately seven kilometers per hour. Our morale remains similarly aloft. Charles relayed to me that, God willing, we anticipate reaching the pole in roughly 800 miles. Beyond the drag ropes lending their ballast to our journey, optimism is our guiding force. We will ascend.”
Turbulent air currents had a different plan in mind, however.
“July 5, 1900, Lat. 80° 8' N, Long. 138° 37' W. Alas! Our aerial journey came to an abrupt halt yestereve on the 80th parallel. We voyaged as many as 500 miles before a forceful downdraft spun our vehicle on its vertical axle and compelled it into a sharp descent; we had lost what we estimate to be just over 100 cubic feet of gas.
“Edward suffered severe injuries during the initial impact and claims his vertebrae have been shattered, leaving him immobile. We’re at the mercy of the floe on which we now rest, at the mercy of the Polar Sea. Should we face the specter of death, we shall meet it with unwavering honor. We will ascend.”
---
“July 6, 1900. We find ourselves solitary in the barren expanse, accompanied only by bergs, ice-fields, and majestic glaciers. Our rations encompass a container’s worth of hardtack, enough salted beef for approximately one week, canned stew, dried apricots, some chocolate bars, and seven bottles of ale.
“Edward’s outlook remains grim; he suspects he’ll never walk again. In witness of his current state, I’m beginning to share in such apprehensions. Edward, whom we have reposed on on of our sledges, fears that the opportunity to make known the great love he holds for his mistress Rebecca is one he’ll never be granted. ‘You shall be reunited at once,’ I assured him. ‘Our journey to triumph will not be thwarted by minor inconveniences.’
“We’ve plotted the course to our next destination: that being Herschel Island, located off the coast of Canada in the Beaufort Sea. Charles — who shares in Edward’s dismay — estimates a three month footslog spanning just under one thousand miles is in store for us, perhaps more given Edward’s ailment. I am determined to see this mission to its completion, yet survival remains a paramount desire. Who’s to recount our extraordinary journey should we fail?
“While establishing our encampment and scouting the local flora of the area for additional sources of sustenance, I happened upon a plant of an unknown species. Half a meter tall, bulbous tubers, and thin roots terminating in clusters of white flowers; intuition suggests this is a water hemlock, which precludes it from edibility. Nevertheless, I shall regard this finding as one of great fortune. A portent of divine value. We will ascend.”
---
Two days later, gold prospectors off the Alaskan coast at Nome beach were in the process of emptying their sluice boxes when from the sky flew a carrier pigeon directly to their mining site. It bore a label with the inscription “Helgeland” and contained the following dispatch:
“July 7, 1900. First dog watch. Three southerly traveling carrier-pigeons were sent off at approximately 7 h. 40 p.m. Pacific Standard Time, the following among them. This is Rear Admiral Charles Ringvold of the United States Navy and the Helgeland Balloon Expedition of 1900. Our hopes of reaching the pole have been reduced to naught. Assistance urgently needed. Our destinies have hitherto been unknown, and now my fears have been actualized. GO IN TERROR OF HENRY HELGELAND. He is not who he proclaims to be. I volunteered for a man of honorable stature and venturesome drive. The man before me betrays neither.”
The remainder of the message was a hasty scrawl, decrypted only by the best in linguistics and modern codebreaking.
“UNASSISTED WE WILL PERISH HELPED WE WILL PERSEVERE PLEASE GOD HELP US HENRY WILL KILL US ALL DO NOT BELIEVE WHAT HE PROCLAIMS.”
The communication was immediately passed off to the Smithsonian Institution, where word fell within the earshot of Ascension Society proponents and additional members of the US Navy. A follow-up expedition — a rescue team led by Captain S. P. Matthews — was put together at once with the authorization of the Secretary of War.
Months later, after a congressional bill introduced to secure grant funding for arctic exploration — and thereby a rescue mission for Helgeland’s lost expedition — was successfully passed, the USS Greenwich departed from the San Francisco Naval Shipyard with a crew of thirty boatswains, medics, and deck officers among others.
What they would ultimately uncover puzzled them all.
---
“July 7, 1900. The team has fractured. We are without our provisions and without the morale that has served us thusly.
“Charles and I set upon the pursuit and capture of a walrus, a most strenuous task in the Arctic Circle. Furnished with a Winchester model .40-82, the sport skews in our favor but we are in no short supply of peril. These are one ton beasts with the strength of a hundred strongmen as they stave the ice, and yet it is not them I should have feared.
“’I can’t allow you to proceed further.’ I heard the click clack racket of the Winchester as Charles chambered a round and raised the rifle, training its twenty inch barrel toward my back after I had volunteered — quite ignorantly — to take the vanguard.
“’Charles?’ I managed between clattering teeth.
“’You’re a man of bold stature. An honorable man at that. But not honorable enough to die for. And that’s it, Henry. I will not die for you.’
“’You speak out of distress, not rationality.’
“’I’m as rational as one permits when I say we won’t all make it to Canada. You can’t expect us to sledge Edward for the next month and retain our strength. Our sanities.” I could hear him gulp, ‘our lives.’
“’You’re not who you say you are.’ I realized in that moment. ‘Not even an ensign would renounce his own crew. Who are you really, Charles?’
“His credentials were a farce; a clever scheme to scrape through the expedition’s vetting process. He was no navy-man nor expert nor navigator and if you piled his life’s accomplishments on top of one another, they’d be equal to that of a cretin.
“’Doesn’t matter any more, Henry.’
“’Then why haven’t you shot me?’
“I sensed beyond his terror a hint of reluctance and felt within him the trepidation of an amateur. The man had never wielded a firearm in his life and wouldn’t start hence.
“’In Your infinite mercy, hear my prayer. In Your boundless grace, grant me Your forgiveness,’ he muttered below his breath. I could’ve believed he’d have squeezed the trigger if not for the unexpected convulsion that suddenly brought him to his knees. Befallen by the strange attack, Charles unhanded the Winchester and collapsed to the ice in the midst of a crippling seizure. And in a matter of moments, he had succumbed to death.
“With some activated charcoal or perhaps an emetic, he could have eluded such a painful demise. I stepped over to look upon his body, his pupils dilated to the size of dimes. Reviewing the immediate symptoms, intuition tells me he’s become the latest victim of hemlock poisoning, the kind of amateur mistake I’d expect from someone such as Charles. Ideal timing, if I may speak candidly.
“Hope remains alive. I will ascend.”
---
Investigators with the crew of S. P. Matthews found everything except answers.
It took them all of three months to zero in on the campsite left behind by Helgeland’s expedition. Any prospect of finding the balloon itself was dropped by the wayside to preserve manpower and time.
The camp was discovered on the 79th parallel, not in any particular state of disarray but with enough evidence to suggest conflict had broken out between the members. Edward was discovered in a tent with the rest of the rations and a bullet hole stamped in the side of his head. There was no telling how long he’d been dead for.
Forty-five meters away from the camp, buried under a stalagmitic gathering of ice and snow, was the body of Charles Ringvold. A followup inquiry would prove my great grandfather’s claims that he was a fraud, but like Charles himself, the truth is buried deep under the surface. Edward and Charles are commemorated for their failed — albeit honorable — efforts in the face of great opposition.
The body of my great grandfather, however, was never found. Theories thus abound in the saga of Henry H. Helgeland and we are no more the wiser now than we were a century ago. He is remembered for murdering his men in cold blood, deserting them, and then yielding to the elements somewhere in the frozen hell of the arctic. The carrier-pigeon message sent by Charles corroborated the apparent facts.
But I know the truth. Because only I have the answers.
“July 8, 1900. All that remains is me, for everyone else has vanished. Edward and I regaled each other with stories of our mistresses as night fell upon our place in the arctic wasteland. Rebecca, Edward’s beloved, works as an expert seamstress in San Francisco and will no doubt be devastated when news of his fate reaches her. But the great memories they shared together, I assured him, will serve her well in the years to come.
“‘You shall be reunited at once,’ I whispered to him once more before executing the dying man with the Winchester. It is my turn to face whatever awaits me on the ice.
“My great anguish and sorrow have been mended.
“Ruth is calling to me now. Our son promptly requires our presence.
“I shall go to them."
The fruitless search for my great grandfather peaked at last with the unearthing of a path of footprints snaking away from the tent where Edward’s body lay. Investigators followed them for approximately ten meters before they abruptly ceased. Captain Matthews is quoted as saying: “it was as though the walker had simply floated away.”
And indeed, it was our family that won in the end, for my great grandfather received exactly what he wanted. The final, undated entry of his diary is comprised of but three simple words:
“I have ascended.”

does anyone know if im able to put a small mh/eah doll in 1/6 bjd clothes? it says that 1/6 bjd dolls are 21-30 cms and my doll is 24 cms, technically it should fit but i want to see if anyone else has tried this yet.

Notes:

• I will include a TL:DR at the end for those who don't want to read the full essay.
• This will be posted to both OntarioLandlord and OntarioTenants (as soon as I get permission to post) as I am looking for all sides of the discussion.

A Brief Introduction
Good day everyone, this is going to be a monster of a post so I apologize in advance for the lack of brevity in my arguments. To set the scene properly, I am currently a tenant in my early 20’s. I have been working as an accountant for realtors and landlords for the past year or so which has taught me a lot about this market. It seems that every time I look into the rental market, the environment continues to worsen. Housing availability is constantly on the decline and prices are skyrocketing. Amateur landlords are often unsure or not knowledgeable of their rights and responsibilities and tenants usually pay the price. Then you have certain property management companies who act unprofessionally or cruel towards their tenants. On the other hand, there are many crappy tenants out there whose actions will cost their landlords an unreasonable amount of money.
Obviously things need to change. The question is what and how? The goal should be to allow individual investors to continue to own property while members of younger generations are given more opportunities to get real estate of their own. There should also be a large push to ensure both landlords and tenants are being held to more strict conditions with better access to the LTB for problem solving. I fully believe the following ideas would contribute to a far better real estate market for Canadians. Of course, the goal is not to make these exact changes, but to make changes in the same spirit.
Purchasing Real Estate On a Tier System
I will admit, this first point may be considered the most “unreasonable” but I fully believe in the potential it brings. Currently, houses are bought in bidding wars where everyone eligible can throw their hats in. As a family, buying their first home, there is always a chance that the beautiful starter home they want will get snatched up by some real estate investor, looking to get a quick flip.
This idea frightens me because younger people/families rarely have the financial power or freedom to compete with a full time real estate investor. The easiest solution in my eyes is to introduce a tier system that prioritizes which party has the greatest buying power in these bidding wars. Ideally, the tier should be somewhat like the following (1 being the highest priority and 4 being the lowest):

1. First time home buyers (no prior PR and no RE investments)
2. The moving home buyer (is selling their prior PR for a new one)
3. Individual RE investors (They already have a PR and are looking to rent/flip)
4. RE Corporations and larger RE investors (Those who already own a great deal of RE investments)

Say, for instance, a home is being sold for $800k. In the first week of the property being listed, two offers are received by prospective buyers. A first home buyer is looking to buy at the asking price while an RE investor, trying to get a quick sale, offers 10k over asking. In this scenario, the first time home buyers’ offer is taken at the highest priority.
Despite the investor’s offer being larger, the property should be offered to the buyer who has a greater need for the listing. Competition will now be between members of individual priority levels. Let's say that after a couple weeks, there are no high priority offers (1 or 2 level priority). Then the RE investors and RE corporations can bid between themselves. This gives far greater opportunities for those looking for a principal residence. While RE investors will have a large backlog of listings which they can compete amongst each other for the best prices. I have not yet given this idea as much thought as the next few ideas so I am always willing to adjust it to potentially make it more reasonable/clear.
Renovating the LTB - Licensing
From what I have seen, the biggest threats facing tenants today are uneducated, amateur landlords and greedy, dishonest property management companies. These next few points are proposed to put more responsibility and accountability for the worst landlords in Canada.
If this idea is implemented, all starter landlords must acquire a license before renting out a property. Furthermore, all existing landlords will be unable to renew their current leases or sign new ones until they also acquire the license. The landlord license will act as a certificate, showing that you actually know the law and understand the severity of acting unlawful towards your tenants.
The license will be acquired through a written exam hosted by the LTB. The exam will consist of a series of identification and application questions regarding the rules and responsibilities for both landlords and tenants. Exam attendees will be given access to a virtual or physical textbook which includes all the information needed to breeze through the exam. The textbook will be available in a variety of languages, allowing both domestic and foreign investors to take the test.
The point of the test is to properly assess how one will react to unique or troublesome activity within their rental properties. It isn’t meant to be a hard test. In fact, ideally, it will be quite simple and quick. Once the test is completed and marked, if the landlord fails, they will be given the opportunity to take it again at a later date. If the landlord passes, they are given their license.
In my ideal world, the license would have to be renewed on an annual basis but the period can increase to be more consistent with other professional licenses. I truly do not think this is reasonable. If you are in a position where you have power over the livelihood of another person, you should have some sort of proof that you are capable of maintaining a reasonable level of quality for them.
Renovating the LTB - Inspections
Upon the acquisition of one’s license, I believe there should then be an inspection of the rental properties. These inspections will be thorough and act as proof that the landlord is ready and capable of maintaining the quality mentioned previously. The inspection will be scheduled soon after passing the licensing exam. Landlords can choose to be present or absent during the inspection, depending on their preference and availability.
The inspector will review each room that the tenants will have access to. They will be looking for items that may be unsafe or in need of repairs/renovations. These items and include and go beyond the following examples:

• Broken or unusable appliances
• Cracked or broken windows
• Rotting floorboards and stairs
• Mould around the inside and outside of the house
• Exposed wiring/potential electrical issues
• Lack of cleanliness or sanitation
• Bug or rodent infestations

All violations recorded by the inspector will be photographed and logged in their report. The inspector will then share their findings with the landlords. If any issues were discovered, it is then up to the landlord to ensure the issues are fixed by the time tenants are set to arrive at the property. The importance of the repairs depend on the type of issue discovered. In most cases, there will only be small amounts of maintenance necessary. Landlords will then fix the issues, saving their receipts and taking updated photographs to prove to the LTB that the issues are resolved.
However, if the inspector uncovers issues that threaten the health and safety of future tenants, the process gets more strict. The landlord will be unable to even list the property for rent until the issues are resolved. The landlord is responsible for resolving the issue and contacting the LTB upon completion. When contact has been made, a second inspection will be scheduled. The second inspection may uncover other smaller issues but the main purpose is to confirm the dangerous areas have been fixed. If everything has been fixed, the landlord gets the okay from the LTB and they can finally allow tenants to move in.
If the landlord decides to lease tenants without an inspection or without clearing inspection issues, they will face fines. The fine’s amount will be made in comparison with the severity of the issues presented.
After tenants have moved in. The option to schedule an inspection will remain available. However, additional inspections will have a cost associated. These inspections can be requested if either the landlord or tenant has an issue with the property, tenants, or other such items. Hopefully, the possibility of an additional inspection will ensure that both landlords and tenants are motivated to maintain the property under the requirements set out by the law.
If issues are uncovered on these new inspections, the responsibility will be put on those accountable. If it is proven that tenants are damaging the property, the landlord will have the option be reimbursed for the maintenance costs. Depending on the severity of the issues, the landlord or tenant will also be given the option to pursue the issues in more depth with the LTB (i.e. evictions, fines, hearings, etc.). This system keeps both tenants and landlords accountable for their actions.
Renovating the LTB - Reliability
While all of my previous points will most likely be viewed and argued differently by tenants and landlords, I feel that everyone will agree with the following statement. The LTB is not that reliable. Complaints take months and months to be processed and the procedures may not always be clear. The LTB should be given more resources so they can handle all issues and procedures within a reasonable time frame. There should also be more emphasis put on unlawful or dishonest activity. There should be no scenario where a tenant can go multiple months without paying rent. If this happens, the landlord should have access to lease terminations and disciplinary actions (i.e. removal of tenant from premises). The same goes for landlords. If a tenant is being endlessly harassed by their landlord or threatened. They need quick access to assistance. There are many issues that may not be inspection worthy, but still need recognition (i.e. slander, threats, unnotified entrance of the rental property, illegal surveillance, etc.). Ideally, these items should be handled within a couple weeks of submission. This is an issue more with the current management of the LTB and it might require a full re-evaluation of the LTB’s systems and resources which is definitely beyond my scope here.
In Conclusion
To end off this essay, I want to say that these are all ideas. This is also my first draft. Items you may disagree with are subject to change and other areas will be focused overtime. I don’t believe this will single handedly “fix” the Ontario real estate market, but if more people were to give out their ideas, we can potentially help one another get through this period of inflated prices and high costs of living. I will do my best to remain active with all comments left on this post. Let me know if you hate it, if you liked it, or if you think something needs to be changed. This is simply a post made by a worried citizen, wanting their country to get better. Thanks to everyone who read through the entire post, and I hope you have a nice week!
TL:DR

1. When purchasing real estate, higher priority should be given to first time home buyers as they are in more desperate need of a home
2. There should be some form of licensing for landlords to ensure rental properties will be held to proper standards
3. Inspections should take place before the rental period starts to ensure no repairs or dangerous areas are left untreated
4. Inspections can be requested after the rental period starts if new issues with the property arise.
5. The LTB needs a restructuring. Issues for both landlords and tenants need to be addressed quicker and with more importance
6. These are all opinions being posted to simply start a discussion. These should be taken more as suggestions with room for improvement rather than proposed solutions

I recently came across a post about an expat who participated in a night wedding. After reading the accounts I began to do research on my own. Not because I believe in any of that stuff. I'm a magician after all. Illusion is my bread and butter. And I can detect trickery better than most. Which in my line of work has its benefits. But old traditions are the best places to pick up new techniques. Old ways that are new to others that delight and even scare people. Because, if I can make them afraid. Make them look away. For even a second. I can pull off some astounding magic.
My gig at the cruise line was coming to an end as we neared the port of Shanghai. And for my last several shows, where I'd normally start to include my greatest tricks in order to leave a lasting impression. I developed a new act that I called "The Sneaky Bride", it involved a mannequin in a wedding dress, a beautiful train, veil, flowers on the ground - the whole nine yards some would say. The trick was that the bride would sneak bites as my assistants who are dressed as servers pass by with their trays.
I begin the trick by placing a mannequin center stage for all to see so that they know it's a dummy. I show them there are no holes, and the entire thing is solid. Then we dress it up and set the stage for a wedding. And with a bit of lighting, another assistant switches places with the mannequin and is being fed under the veil. We later changed it to more slight of hand techniques as the assistant complained she wasn't able to chew fast enough as the items of course have to get larger and larger for comedic effect as the guests were wowed by the disappearing act as the fake wedding progressed.
At the end we even invited the unmarried men up to the stage and then threw out a fake bouquet, and watched them clamber over each other in good fun to catch it. The act was an instant hit and had the crowd roaring every night. Which was why I decided to take a firsthand look at the original, and see if there were any other staging techniques I could learn from this old tradition.
With some help from Bing and its ChatGPT features I was able to get a relatively good idea of where it was practiced. So I booked the next flight out to begin my quest for a real night wedding.
Upon arrival at my hotel, I asked the concierge for information about the local practice.
"Yes. I know of this one. We practice it often for children who were taken too early."
"But they are all scams?"
The concierge smiled, "In most cases the pouches mean no harm, and they're simply for families who want to provide peace for themselves and to complete a lasting tradition. Sometimes the dowries are quite lucrative as well, and it is the families who are scammed by those who go and collect these ghost wives as concubines. We call it a blue procession for the trail of ghosts the husband leaves behind wherever he goes." He leans in, "But between you and me? They're mostly all scams."
I laughed, and I can't stress this next part enough, tip your concierge! Which I did. "Thank you, and also. Do you know where I could get a good start on finding more information about these ghost dowries? Or even find one of these pouches myself?"
"The temple down this first street to the left, about half a kilometer, would be a good place to start. But finding a pouch is a bit more difficult as they pop up sporadically. However, if traditions are to be believed it is the pouch who chooses the spouse."
I thanked him again and began to make my way through the early morning rush toward the temple. The streets were lined with open markets full of food from local farmers, which were common in the morning in this part of the world. They would disappear before the afternoon and then return again to sell wares at night when it was cooler. It made the city feel as if it were breathing as the locals rose and ebbed outside with day and night.
On my way, I searched the ground and around alleys for loose pouches. But I had no such luck by the time I arrived at the temple. Large red pillars that were thicker than any tree I've personally had the pleasure of meeting held up the high ceiling. Inside, the locals were already starting to disperse as the work hours were amongst us. Which left me nearly alone in this temple at about 8:00 in the morning.
A monk or priest was kneeling on a mat in front of a wooden shrine, throwing pieces of wood in the shape of dumplings on the floor. I waited patiently for him to finish. Taking in the sights and the delicate features of the temple. When he rose I approached him.
"You don't speak English by any chance do you?"
He smiled.
"What about the middle tongue?" I asked in Mandarin.
"Oh," he seemed surprised. "Yes. How may I be of assistance?"
"What were you doing just now?"
He held out his hand and showed me two red wooden pieces that were, with closer inspection, in the shape of moons. "Jiaobei," he told me. "We use these to seek divine guidance."
"How does it work?"
The monk shows me the two sides, one was smooth and flat, the other side rounded. "You ask a question and then throw it on the ground. One block flat and one block round, means yes. Both blocks showing round means no. Or depending on the question. Anger from the Gods. Or crying in sadness as it is commonly known. And finally, both blocks showing flat means laughter. Which could mean a number of things." He hands them to me, "You throw it three times to get a better answer."
"I'm guessing if it's the same all three times, the answer is definitive?"
The monk nodded.
"Will I..."
"Ah ah ah, in silence."
I didn't want my first question to be too convoluted or difficult. So I kept it simple and asked if I was a good magician. Then I threw the Jiaobei on the floor. It clattered and rolled on its rounded back, showing two flat sides.
The monk smiled.
"That usually happens the first time anyone tries Jiaobei. But in my experience, it generally means you asked a pure question."
"What happens if I didn't ask a pure question and it came back as angry?"
"The gods will remember it. They will remember you."
"No bad first impression then huh," I whispered under my breath. "Okay. Do I need to throw it two more times or can I ask a different question?"
"You may ask a different question or throw it twice more."
"What is my name?" I threw it on the floor. And to my surprise, as the ends are pointed and difficult to balance, one of the damn things stood tall and erect.
The monk bowed to the pieces. "Truly you have been picked by the gods to be answered. Lijiao or a standing answer like this is uncommonly rare. The gods generally choose to laugh at a nonsensical question. And often get angry if you throw it two more times. And rarely do they ever answer ones asked aloud."
I bent forward, skeptical, though a temple this was, at how the thing worked. In my head I could only think that the switchboard guy was quick on his feet. But looking around I couldn't find any cameras. Though in this day an age, they're made smaller than a fly. So it was difficult to tell. I picked up the pieces, feeling for any sense of magnetism, but there were none.
I asked one last question before I left that day. I asked their gods, would I find the real deal? And I threw it on the ground three times. All three times it came up yes. But for two months I scoured the city, and the country side. And I did chance upon several pouches. Some were obviously scams as I watched each bag carefully before approaching. Especially noticeable are the ones in the city which would be laying on the sidewalk, filled with bills for people passing by. But I observed that if a local went to go pick it up, two or three men from around the corner would come and threaten him to put it back. But if a foreigner picked it up, an old man or woman would come and start calling them son before leading them away.
There were of course others that were genuinely following tradition. I chanced upon several of them and was married several times. But each one was playful almost. And performed by their parents in the day. Leaving me with several small bags of pocket change, a good dinner, as I went on my way.
During one of these fake night weddings I even saw a child playfully munching on a corn cob in the corner under one of the tables as I fed the effigy they constructed of my fake bride. Which was when I think I decided to call it quits. Believing that I'd never find the real deal. Although I did learn a lot as tradition can be translated by me into performance. Which helped me ground 'The Sneaky Bride' act further. All in all, this was time well spent.
My visa was coming to an end and I had mostly been enjoying the sights, the city, and their way of life. When on one the last day, as I was leaving from a faraway eatery that the concierge had recommended, that I saw a red pouch made of silk with a thick yarn around its throat, stuffed full of money. I looked around and didn't see a single person there, nothing except flat farmland and water gullies for miles.
Odd, I thought to myself, as it looked truly abandoned.
For a second I played with the idea of picking it up. Wondering if somehow a relative of the deceased would pop up magically next to me and I could change the world of magic by studying their technique. But I didn't want to spend my few hours chasing ghosts. I wanted to enjoy my time. So I kept walking.
I got back to the city and spent the remainder of my day eating and drinking, meeting new friends at the bar, newfound lads who I invited a hundred times to visit me in Melbourne one day. Who all agreed that if fate ever brought us back together we would drink until the sun rose. So yeah, I was fairly drunk when I got back to my hotel room, and didn't believe what I saw when I opened the door. It was a red pouch sitting on my coffee table.
"Someone's trying to play a trick on me," I mused. "They must have heard me talking at the bar." I circled the table studying the pouch. Any magician worth his smoke, likes a good bag. So there was no doubt to me that this was the same one I saw earlier. Which made me start putting two and two together. "It must be the concierge. He's the one who sent me out that far." I laughed and picked up the bag, even though I knew the rules. I opened it and thumbed through the bills. "It's much more than what I tipped him. Much more." Curious, I wondered what he would have done if I didn't return this to him. It must have been quite a few months worth of wages. I threw the bag up in the air and caught it as if I were juggling before I tossed it on my nightstand. "I'm going to let him sweat for a little bit and pretend I didn't find it tomorrow as I check out," I mused as I went to go take a shower.
I opened the door and felt the words stick to the roof of my mouth as the bag appeared on the counter next to the sink. I shot a glance back to the nightstand and indeed the bag I had just thrown on there was missing.
"This is a good fucking trick. That, or I'm drunker than I thought." I started questioning did I somehow fall asleep beforehand? Or walked into the bathroom and put it there as I mused my little scheme of making the concierge nervous at the lost pouch? Had I somehow in my drunken state done something without realizing it? No. That couldn't be it. I touched my chest to check my heart rate and put my fingers on my face. A bit flushed, but heart rate adequate. I was fine for the most part. Just drunk.
I looked at the pouch on the counter, and peered gingerly into the bathroom as if I've never stepped foot in one, before deciding to grab the bag and close the door. "Okay," I said loudly. "Whoever's doing this. Come on out." Of course no one appeared, not that I expected them to because the credo I lived by is that a good magician never reveals his trick.
"Okay, let's see how good you guys really are," I mused. Going over to my closet and placed the pouch on the shelf. Closing the door. Then I went back to the bathroom and opened the door. It was empty. I checked the nightstand drawer, mpty. I looked all over, and it was still mty. I breathed a sigh and went over to the closet door, "I guess you're just a bag after all." Except when I looked inside. MT. I couldn't find the bag behind any other nook or cranny. I know, I checked them all. And they were all .
I stumbled backwards and looked around, glancing at the ceiling corners in case someone had crawled up there. And even looked under the bed. But there was no one else here. I felt my chest tighten as I tried to make sense of what was happening. "Its got to be the walls I reasoned." And so for the next half hour I scoured the entire room with my hands, pushing, pressing, pulling anywhere and everywhere I could. Using all my years of experience to figure out what was going on. But there was nothing.
I couldn't stay in that room another minute so I rushed outside and nearly stepped on it! The bag! It was right at the foot of my doorstep.
My mind tried to wrap around how that was possible, "It's got to be a dupe. They've got more than one bag. I've been had, that has to be it. And the furniture inside, they have secret compartments. God, they really put a lot of effort into this," I laughed. "I have to know how this trick is done." So I opened the pouch and pulled out the note inside.
The notes generally contained their name, their current would-be age (she was 20 this year, older than most), what time they were born (8:07), a picture if they had one (she did), and how old they when they died (5). If the deceased were a bit older, perhaps a tidbit from their family is included about their personality. But most importantly, it always contained their address.
I looked at my watch, it was late and my flight was in the morning but perhaps I could still make it. So I gathered the rest of my things, my luggage, the mannequin for my act, and other bag of tricks in case I needed to go to the airport right after. "Come on," I yelled out loud to my pranksters. "Let's go see what other tricks you have up your sleeve."
I went down to the lobby and had the front desk call me a cab. I looked around for the concierge but he was nowhere to be found. So I left a note for him. And then left.
The cab drove until the city faded away. We were practically on the other side of the island by the time its tires skipped to a stop. I got out and knocked on the giant half circle doors of the address. I noticed that we were deep in the countryside. There were hardly any lights dotting the night.
I knocked several more times before I heard shuffling behind the door. And then it opened. An old man stood in front of me in his drawers.
"What do you want," he asked angrily. "Do you know what time it is?"
"I'm sorry for disturbing you at such a late hour. But," I pulled out the pouch. And his eyes widened up.
"Meju-eh. You're back." He looked at me up and down. "What are you supposed to be," he asked but then shook his head. "No, no. Come in. Come in, please."
"I don't have much time," I told him. "I have to leave in the morning."
"Sit, sit." He ushered me to a chair in the courtyard.
I placed the bag on the table next to it, "I have a flight in the morning, so if we're going to do this. We have to do it now."
Instead of fighting me, he nodded, "Yes. I agree. I don't have much time either. And Meju-eh is older than most ghost brides. The bull demon might not let her through his gets if she gets any older. And then she'll be a husbandless spinster for eternity." He ushered around, "We don't have many living relatives either. So it shouldn't be too troublesome to hurry this along." He called into the house and a young woman came out, "This is my granddaughter. Ah-ahn. Meju-eh's older sister. They were close as children."
Ah-ahn was quite beautiful. I almost couldn't take my eyes off of her.
"Go and start preparations and rouse anyone you can get a hold of. We must have the wedding tonight. Even if it isn't grand as I would like."
"Will we make it in time," I asked. "It's a lot of work for one person. Perhaps I could help?"
The old man nodded, "That's a good idea. But forgive me, I must retire for now. Or else have no energy for the wedding." He turned to his granddaughter, "Fetch me when the preparations are ready." As he left us alone in the courtyard.
"What can I do," I asked her.
"We're going to need flowers for decoration."
I pulled a rose out from behind her ear, "I happen to have a case of these on hand at all times." I put the flower in her hair.
She smiled, "Thank you."
"What else?"
"Um, we already have tables for family gatherings. There should be enough food in the freezers that we can just heat up. I need to call my aunt to come help. And wake up some of the kids. Also...we kind of need a statue of some sort, as a stand-in for my sister."
"Statue? I think I have just the thing."
Hours went by and it was the dead of the night, but watching all the people bustling around the courtyard, the kids in excited whispers, you'd never guess that all of us should have been sleeping. Soon the tables were set, the food was hot, even the decorations were strung, and I had procured my mannequin from my luggage and a few of the menfolk were putting it together inside the main living room.
Several times I found myself laughing and having a good time with the others, although chasing that hen made me look quite ridiculous, and several times I bumped into Ah-ahn and we would talk and exchange a few words. In the beginning she talked mostly about her sister. How she was troublesome as a child. Always hiding things. I told her about the pouch appearing and disappearing in my hotel. And we both had a good laugh. Eventually we talked about ourselves. I learned she wanted to get away from here, "To see the world," she told me. The more we talked the closer we got. I could feel it. Soon we were bumping into each other just to feel our bodies touch. But before anything else transpired the wedding preparations were complete.
The old man was retrieved from his bedroom and everyone gathered outside in the courtyard, looking into the main living room. There was a wooden shrine in the back of the room and the mannequin had been traditionally dressed. From an old box the grandfather retrieved several personal items that belonged to Meju. And I was then asked to enter the living room.
The grandfather said a few words, and then gave us his blessing. Ah-ahn handed me a bowl of sticky rice ball soup. I had been through this process before and knew what to do. I ate one of the pink balls and then went to go feed my new bride.
Now I've traveled with this mannequin for some time. Seen it at a dozen of my own shows. Slept with it in the room. Knew that it was in fact a dummy for all intents and purposes. However, as I started moving my spoon toward it. I swear I saw it's chest rise as if it were breathing.
I couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol ebbing away from earlier or a trick of the light. But even its shoulders looked softer than usual. My hand started shaking as it got closer to her mouth. It was like watching an out of body experience as the spoon inched under her veil. And then the CRUNCH. It scared the fucking shit out of me. I looked around hoping to see some kid in the corner playing a dumb joke. But there were none. And I didn't believe what I was seeing even as the veil started moving as her jaws chewed the sticky material back and forth.
"No way," I shook. "There's just no way." My hand was so close to the veil. "Oh God. Please. I have to know how this is done." I ripped off the veil.
Meju looked very much like her picture. But older. And then older. And older. As if her face was starting to rot away as it contorted. People behind me screamed. The lightbulbs we had strung popped. Kids were running around and the grandfather fell to the floor clutching his heart.
I backed away, the spoon clattering to the ground as I watched the mannequin crick and crack as its arms and legs bent in a tangled mess until it was walking on all fours!
The thing grabbed the bent down to the grandfather and started chewing!
I turned around and saw the other guests were piling out of the courtyard. The tables were upturned and only the dim crescent light of the moon bore down on us. Everyone was screaming trying to get out. I ran and bumped into Ah-ahn. She whirled terrified and then realized it was me. She yelled, "You never! Look at the bride before it's time!"
"I'm so sorry! I didn't know. I thought it was a trick!"
She grabbed her face, her nails leaving streaks behind as she clawed at her skin, "Now she's going to kill every living blood relative. And then you." Ah-ahn laughed manically. "She's going to torture you!"
The people kept pushing around us until we got separated. Her final words still ringing in my ears as I took to the dirt road outside and started running. I ran for nearly a mile before I spotted a cab sitting outside of someone's house. I banged on their door and then begged them to take me to the airport. Throwing at them all the money from the dowry.
When I arrived at the airport I hurried through the TSA. Relieved at the lights and normal looking people. I boarded my flight. Tapping my foot nervously the entire time, staring out the small squarish window as we prepared to take off. The sun was starting to rise as the engine roared. I took one last look at the island as we flew away. Still trying to catch my breath at what I had just caused.
My mind was reeling as I heard two knocking noises, they sounded oddly familiar, and for a second I thought that Meju had finished with her family and had somehow come boarded. But then I realized the noise was coming from my carry-on. I reached inside and pulled out two red shaped crescents that the Monk at the temple had given to me. And I realized that if I ever needed any form of divine guidance this was it.
So right there in the tiny aisle. I asked the gods if I had escaped and threw the Jiaobei.
No.
I asked the gods if I would be safe.
No.
I asked them would Meju kill me.
Both flat.
Both flat.
Both flat.
s

It's weird how people bump into one another in places you wouldn't expect, right? Like you probably didn't expect to see that title when scrolling late at night, but here we are. And now we're having a conversation.
Well, not really, but we could be!
I'll be honest, this isn't the first post I've ever made here. It's probably not yours either. And that's totally okay. Sometimes things don't work out, or people don't see your post because you always decide the optimal time would be to post it at 10pm on a Sunday night. You know, there's all sorts of reasons we may find ourselves coming back here. But that's okay too! It's never too late to try again, right?
Hi. My name is Jeff. You probably already guessed that, but maybe not. I don't know, I'm not next to you. I was never good at these things, so, I guess here's a list of things about me. That's what people usually do when they don't know how to communicate their personality, right? So, let's see here:

• I am 27 years old. Very cool, pinnacle of life, right?
• I have a full time job that I enjoy. I won't go into specifics here but it has helped me come out of my shell over the past few years and I am very fortunate for the chances people have taken on me to help me with that. Maybe you will too and message me. Just not for a job, please. I'm happy where I am.
• I am what many would consider a 'gamer', except I just say it normally in my absolutely not an accent Midwesterner accent, and not like some people do mockingly. I enjoy playing games, and do it fairly regularly. I don't really know how else to say it. Mock me if you will if that's not acceptable, I'm still going to do what I enjoy.
  • Side note, you can make these semicolon's underneath. How neat. I guess since I'm here I range from shooters to semi-strategy games, to a bit of everything but mobile games. Currently Sea of Thieves has ruled my free time, so ahoy me fellow pirates. Also, please stop sinking me. :)
• I make atleast one person laugh or smile a day. That's not an average, I'm afraid to say what the average is incase you're funnier than me and my quota isn't comparable. But sometimes people consider me funny. Sometimes.
• I tend to lean left, and am open to LGBT+ ect people. I am not necessarily looking for that romantically, but if you and someone you meet are, that's awesome and I hope the best for you. I don't tend to go into politics and such unless asked but just know if you are someone who tends to lean the other direction and or is vocal about being against those things, we probably won't really get along.
• I try to be creative, including writing stories, creating DnD campaign settings and running them, and just generally am usually thinking about something I could write or create. It's a fun hobby for me I've been doing to some extend dating back to my high school years, but has certainly ramped up and become more mature in recent years.
  • Before someone makes a joke of it, I'll beat you to it. No, I can't be a nerd because I'm not traditionally great at math, even with math rocks that go click clack. But, I like to make cool worlds, so there's that.

​

• What am I looking for in a fellow person?
• Preferably within my 'age range', so we'll say 24-30? If you're older or younger I'm sure you're a great person, just not what I'm looking for.
• Someone who is open minded and patient. Sometimes I may not understand something and need clarification, or may just do something stupid unintentionally. I'm sorry, I'm aware and can be advised of such without unnecessary insults. However, if I forgot to pick up our sitcom kid from school for an entire day in the rain, perhaps it's warranted.
• I would like to get a feel for our personalities before pursuing anything serious. Just because we may not be romantic doesn't mean we can't be two cool people who just enjoy talking to one another. I am generally a quick replier, although sometimes struggle with the confidence to reach out to others first. It's something I hope to get more used to with more actual experience meeting people.
  • On that note, I'm not looking for any sexy time hookups, so on the very slim chance you made it this far and that was the deal-breaker, my apologies.
• Someone with a sense of humor, or who can deal with my sometimes dull sense of humor. If you've made it this far, you are probably doing a great job at this and somehow found this entertaining.
• Ideally, someone who can share in my hobbies and passions, and compliment them. If you're also a creative person, or enjoy similar hobbies, that could be a great way to bond and see how we mesh just as people.
• I am looking for anyone specifically within the US. While I'm not expecting to find someone down the street from this post, more local (within a few states) is certainly a plus, but by no means a deal-breaker. I am generally happy where I am, I'm not expecting to move anywhere at this point, but who knows what can change.

I'm sure there is plenty more that we could talk about, but I am traditionally yelled at on the rare interactions these posts bring that I am not clear enough and have too long of posts. So, I tried to make this one a bit more fun, even if you aren't interested in me. If nothing else if even a little bit of what you read made you laugh or go, "Wow, look at this guy. What a post." in a slightly mocking way (without needing to explicitly tell me), then I'll consider my job done.
On the off chance you want to see what I'm like in a normal, non-mocking conversation, by all means feel free to reach out and we'll go from there. That's about it, I'm sure I've gone on too long in some cases, but hopefully you enjoyed the title atleast nonetheless. For all those out there looking for something fulfilling in their life, I wish you all the best.

[M]/Doing retro just in case, coz it took me much longer to lay this out lol/[M]

Canadian Federal Elections 101

Canada has inherited its political system from the United Kingdom, sticking to Westminster parliamentary system ever since. This means, that unlike in the United States, the outcome of Canadian elections are won by whichever party manages to elect the greatest number on Member of Parliament to the House of Commons of Canada, allowing the leader of this party to assume the office of Prime Minister.

The Senate of Canada provides for a stark contrast, since despite being originally designed to ensure provincial representation, the upper house remains unelected and is largely subjected to the politics in the House of Commons.

When no party is able to secure more than 50 per cent of seats in the House, a leader of a political party that is able to command more than 50 per cent of MPs, for example through singing supply and confidence or coalition agreements with other parties, becomes Prime Minister instead. Historically, however, the largest party in the House of Commons tends to form a monitory government, when it commands a plurality of MPs, rather than an outright majority. This allows the largest party to remain in power, but it has to rely on MPs from other political factions to pass crucial pieces of legislation, especially when it comes to votes that indicate parliamentary confidence, such as federal budgets. Losing those votes, would effectively mean that the current government has to either be completely re-staffed with new Cabinet Ministers, or call a snap election.
However, minority governments remained fairly uncommon in Canada, since the current voting system, called First-Past-the-Post (FPTP), allows for individual MPs to win their respective ridings - also known as constituencies - to be elected into the House of Commons with a simple plurality of votes. Thus, a political party can win most seats in the House of Commons through strategically placing their bets on ridings with very tight margins, where just one extra vote may allow their nominee to win a permanently seat, effectively making all votes for the opposition candidate in that riding meaningless.

General Backgrounder

For example, the Liberal Party of Canada has won the last two federal elections with a plurality of seats in the House of Commons, despite coming only 2nd to the Conservative Party of Canada during popular vote. The Liberals, despite becoming the largest party in the House still fell short of winning the majority of seats, being forced to rely on the New Democratic Party, that represented are more progressive social democratic part of the electorate, for crucial votes. Later, the Government has called a snap election aiming to get their desired majority, but failed, and had to sign a formal Supply and Confidence Agreement with the NDP, that included a massive package of social programmes, such as the recently implemented national dental care and prescription drug insurance.
However, while enjoying a steady lead in polls vis-a-vis, the federal Conservatives during the pandemic, the Liberals had experienced persistent slump as post-pandemic recovered coupled with sticky inflation and rapidly deteriorating housing crisis. As the Federal Conservatives have moved to the right following the election of a new leader, they have utilised concurrent economic challenges and liberal economic policy, blaming the current government's pandemic related emergency spending coupled with expansion of social programs as the root cause for inflation into collapsing housing affordability. As Canada had to respond to America's Inflation Reduction Act with a new public investment into green transition, conservative criticism of the Trudeau government has become ever more vocal, with fiscal deficits presumably exacerbating, concurrent inflationary pressures.
Liberal policies, especially introducing the federal backstop mechanism for carbon pricing, has also spurred, vicious opposition, among Conservatives, especially those living in the Western Canada, that culminated in the razor-thin re-election of the United Conservatives in the oil-producing province of Alberta. The federal response to the freedom, convoy protest, as well as the general push, forever wider collective community during the pandemic, has created some fertile soil for the opposition, Conservatives to capitalise on, especially as the more moderate leader of the party had been ousted shortly after the convoy protest.
After more than eight years in government, the liberal party has also been embroiled in several corruption and ethics candles, including the SNC-Lavallin affair, the pandemic-era ArriveCan App scandal, and, most recently, the accusations of Chinese electoral interference, and Chinese police stations operating in Canada.
In fact, the situation for the current government has become so dire. It's a point, but more than 80% of forecasters projected a Conservative minority government has the most probable outcome for the next election. According to some polls, the Liberals would be unable to form a government, even with the support of the New Democratic Party. The liberal convention in late spring 2023, didn't provide much of a relief either, how's the party continued to lack a comprehensive platform to combat the issue of housing and affordability - something that steadily climbed the rate of priorities for many Canadians, to become the most pressing issue, when deciding who to vote for. If anything, the Conservative party has become the most popular political force, among younger Canadians, with their laser, sharp focus on the issue of inflation and housing affordability.
The issue of housing affordability has become central to the Conservative Convention, where the Party has committed to "restoring" home ownership across the country, through planning laws deregulation and "removing resections on the supply of housing". This would see the federal government to tie federal spending on housing to municipalities shortening approval times, waive HST/GST for housing, as well as allow landlords to re-invest their profits into new housing tax-free. The Conservative convention also proposed federal infrastructure funding to be linked to higher-density housing construction.
What did, however, play in favour of the current government, what is the time. Within Canadian Parliamentary system, the Prime Minister can call an election effectively anytime, so long their term doesn't exceed the four year threshold, that was approaching at Fall 2025, supported by the Supply and Confidence Agreement with New Democrats. As inflation in North America has started slowly subsiding to return to the 2% target in early fall 2024, Trudeau has managed to re-gain some the economic credibility his government has seemingly lost. The Liberals have also continued their tilt to make some inroads into the NDP camp, with the Federal Budget 2024 going heavily on Net Zero and Green Transition.
However, the Liberals also had to deal with a political deadline, whether to call and election before or after the Budget 2025 would've been published. The former might allow the LPC to avoid the criticism of "buying up votes" that the party received after calling the snap election shortly after introducing their Federal Budget in 2021. However, Trudeau also had a stake at deferring the election for long as possible, hoping that waiving inflationary pressure might open up more space for the Liberals to re-gain the economic ground over the Conservatives.

Federal Election 2025

After long deliberation, the federal Cabinet has opened to hold an election in late March 2025, right at the time when a government would have normally tabled their budget. The election that both the Liberals and the Conservatives have approached after almost a year or neck-and-neck perforce in the polls, with Trudeau having a minuscule advantage in personal ratings.
The economy, especially housing affordability, have become two main issues during this election, closely followed by healthcare - namely access to family physicians and waiting times for selected procedures - and the issue of inflation still lingering at the back of the public debate.
Trudeau himself because a matter for the debate, with the Liberals banking on his personal likability, while Federal Conservatives continuously pressed with corruption and ethical scandals and corruption allegations, combined with the Liberal campaign continuously bringing up the "electability issue" of their opponents.

Housing

With the Tories enjoying slight lead on the matter of economic competence, the Liberals opted to treat the housing crisis as a matter of social policy, while banking heavily on personal popularity of Trudeau himself. From the policy-standpoint, LPC Election Platform has effectively copied the proposal originally voiced during the Conservative Convention. Namely, waiving GST/HST for housing construction, allowing landlords to re-invest their profits into constructing more units tax-free, as well as linking federal spending to new housing development and liberalising permitting process. The difference with the Conservatives was the focusing on new federal spending to combat housing affordability.
Liberal election promises involved the commitment for new federal housing construction to exceed population growth by the end of the first term, through the government directly contracting private developers to build more affordable housing, and task the Canada Infrastructure Development Corporation to provide funding to non-market housing in numbers meeting or exceeding population growth in larger metropolitan areas on Toronto, Vancouver, Calgary, Montreal, and across Atlantic Canada.
Unlike the Tories, Trudeau also went further, promising the government would cover development charges for projects that included affordable housing. The Liberals have also committed to conducting of affordable rental housing, aimed at younger Canadians and those who are yet to start cloning the property ladder. Conservatives on the other hand emphasised Trudeau's poor track on housing affordability, combined focusing on making home ownership more affable through market-driven construction of new units for sale.
Both Team Blue and Team Red have committed to expediting the arrival of new skilled trades professionals, especially those working in the housing sector, including interest-free loans to have their qualifications recognised or to up-skill their existing credentials. Liberals however, took a step further, promising automatic Permanent Residency who has worked in residential construction after 1 year, as well issuing Open Work Permits - exempt from the Labour Market Impact Assessment - to anyone with construction work experience willing to come to Canada, so long they continue working in the construction sector for the majority of their time before obtaining permanent residency. The Tories on their part suggested granting PR automatically after they've worked in construction for at least 5 years.
On the matter of banning foreign buyers, both parties have committed to banning home purchases in Canada for those who do not hold Canadian citizenship or are not Permanent Residents of Canada, with Liberals maintaining existing exemptions, so long the person buying has invested an equivalent amount in affordable housing construction.
Rhetorically, the Liberals have echoed the National Housing Act 1938, suggesting their government would run fiscal deficits to finance nation-wide home construction, especially affordable rental units. CPC has openly accused Trudeau of "policy stealing" choosing to emphasis permitting deregulation, subsidies for new units, and investing more construction professionals.

Healthcare & Social Care

Federal Conservatives have focused their attack in increasing waiting times, as well as increasing shortage of medical professionals across the country. Liberals, however, aimed to conservative proposals to introduce more private providers into the system, while emphasising their expansion of public health insurance that now covers both dental care and prescription drugs. Both parties suggested increasing the immigration intake for doctors, nurses, medical researches, providing financial support to have their credentials recognised in Canada as well as to update their skills.
The Liberals have however suggested lowering tuition rates international students who come to study health, social care, and eduction, granted them access to domestic rates of tuition, as well as a designated pathway to Permanent Residency for health, eduction, and social care who have obtained at least 1560 hours of Canadian work experience, and received at least part of their eduction in Canada. This would come as a supplementary measure, with domestic students becoming eligible for federal student loan write off if they have accumulated at least 1 year of post-graduation work experience in health, social care, or education - so long their degree is in the same field.
The Liberals have also committed to covering a Royal Commission to introduce a national social care insurance programme for seniors and people with disabilities.

The Economy

The Conservatives suggest introducing "full expensing" allowing companies to deduct up 120 per cent of their expenses on machinery, equipment, and non-residential property, akin to UK's Super Deduction, to combat Canada's low investment levels. They also propose to introduce tax credits for Canadian companies to up-skill their workers, as well as increased federal funding to provinces to support job training and second career programmes and labour market integration.
The Liberals suggest increasing the minimum wage in federally-regulated institutions, linking as a proportion of executive pay. LPC also pledged to introduce at least 4 weeks of paid vacation after 1 year on employment, with additional increases in line with employee tenure, as outlined in their Convention 2023, while brining paid leave of up to 6 weeks a year, allowing recipients to tradition onto disability payments after that.
Both parties have committed to supporting Employee Ownership Trusts, as well as introduction of worker representation on corporate boards in federally-regulated industries. Team Red however to it a step further, suggesting they will employee ownership mandatory for large corporations , with the only exemption provided for profit-sharing schemes.
Both parties have also supported reforming Canada's Employment Insurance Program:
The Conservatives suggest introducing Individual EI Savings Accounts that any Canadian can access whenever they are let go of their job or decide to quit. The proposed accounts would be funded through mandatory employer and employee contributions and could also be used to pay for labour training and re-skilling, with means-tested federal assistance available for those who's exhausted their accounts. Tories also suggest expanding current marginal earnings projection to apply to both individual and household income. The party also suggests waiving EI Premiums and provide rebates for C/QPP Contribution rebates to those not paying federal income tax, to guarantee every Canadian can earn at least $1000 a month free of payroll deductions.
Trudeau on the other hand suggested making EI coverage universal, and providing up to 90 per cent wage replacement in the first month of claim, while also introducing EI Benefit Floor, where every Canadian would be entitled to a minimum benefit equal to federal minimum wage regardless of their original earnings, for as long as they have enough insurable hours. The Liberal plan also introduces expands "working while on claim" provision, allowing people collecting EI benefits to have their wages supplemented through the program so their total paycheque reaches at least 90 per cent of their average 5-year earnings at all times, regardless whether the claimant is eligible for EI Regular Benefits. EI Parental Benefits are set to be fixed at at least 60 per cent of the family's income, subject o the benefit floor. Liberals suggest paying for the programme through waiving maximum insurable earnings to levy EI Premiums on all income of an individual, while introducing cap on benefits linked to median regional wages. However, the basic exemption shall be aligned to the federal income tax minimum threshold. Surpluses generated should be used to pay for expanded WWoC provisions and putting EI Operating Account back into surplus.
Both parties also committed to brining in a Canada Savers' Credit that mirrors both the amounts and eligibly criteria of the GST/HST tax credit, but is instead deposited in people's Tax Free Savings Accounts (TFSAs) and automatically invested into corporate equity. Tories and Liberals also support introducing automatic enrolment for Registered Retirement Savings Plans (RRSPs), Registered Eduction Savings Plans (RESPs), Registered Disability Savings Plans (RDSP), First Homebuyer Savings Accounts (FHSAs) and TFSAs upon either birth of obtaining Canadian tax residency for eligible non-Canadians. While the Conservative proposal would new accounts automatically linked to existing financial institutions the individual already has an account in, the Liberals instant new accounts should be automatically assigned to a new independent crown corporation, so long the primary account holder haven't decided to the move their registered accounts to an eligible financial institution.
Both parties pitch the policy as a potential interim solution to address Canada's sky-high household debt, through increased asset ownership and participation in stock markets.
When it comes to fiscal policy, the Liberal Government suggests they'll keep their "structural deficit" - as defined by tax revenues versus programme expedites - bellow the rate of economic growth over the 10 year period. LPC however is open they'll not restrain their spending on new housing construction, Ottawa set to absorb almost all the costs of housing under the liberal plan. The Conservatives on the other hand suggest introducing the $1 for $1 rule for federal expenditure, where every dollar of new spending has to be offset by a dollar in spending cuts or increased taxes, suggesting to balance the budget in their first 5 years in the office.
Somewhat comically, the Liberals seem to be attacking Conservative proposals on the grounds it may bring back the pain on the nighties - referring to the Chretien austerity era - especially in Atlantic Canada and the Regions of Quebec where benefit dependency ratios have traditionally been elevated.
The Liberals have also committed to expand existing childcare agreements, to make childcare services and spare available to anyone, and drastically reduce wait times for subsidised spots.

Energy & Environment

The issue has surprisingly played a somewhat muted role during this election, as CPC has contained to opposed federal price on carbon, pressuring the idea of turning Canada into a "natural resource superpower". Liberals on the other hand boasted about their massive investment into Net Zero Transition, while also attacking the Tories one potential fiscal penalties that the government would assume after cancelling the carbon tax. Team Red had also opened to cling to previous commitments of the Conserve Leader to ban overseas oil, which Ontario, and Quebec, as well as Atlantic Canada remain fairly dependent on, due to lack of oil transportation infrastructure from western oil production facilities. Considering the fact Quebec has remained one of Liberal strongholds even at the lowest, as well as the party's perceived electability in the province, CPC would've had even harder to fight for the votes in Quebec.

Tipping the Scales

However, what truly decided this election, was something that may in the future divide the country even more, namely the issue of the French language. Something that has been present in Canadian politics for generations, but something that this time brought a party over the finish line, while completely tanking their opponents.
While both leaders fluent in French, having French Canadian roots, combined with an almost unchallenged dominance of the local Bloc Québécois, it seemed quite unlikely either party would be able to gain any meaningful advantage in Quebec, until both parties have revealed their election manifestos.
Here was the moment the Liberals played their cards best. Namely, the party has committed to supplying French language both within and outside Quebec, through drastically bolstering access to Francophone eduction across the country. The Liberals has committed to introducing a brand-new federal agency tasked with facilitating access to French eduction and integration services - Francisation Canada.
The agency was set to provide free-at-use eduction in French, while also providing up to $1000 a month in finical assistance to immigrants who were willing to learn French. On top of that, the Liberals have committed to make existing Explore and Odyssey Programme universal, integrating them into school curriculums across the country. The Party has also committed to negotiating bilateral agreements with all provinces to provide additional funding and guarantee access to services, including eduction in French across Canada, while making French a mandatory subject for Early Learning & Childcare, as well as in secondary education. LPC would also waive tuition fees for post-secondary eduction in French, and negotiate agreements with other francophone countries, to facilitate French-speaking immigration into Canada and Quebec.

Conclusion

Thus, on the night of the election, the sudden realisation waived through the country. The Liberal Party managed to protect their urban ridings, even in West, as their pledge to "spend whether it takes to make houses and rents affordable for everyone" managed to persuade swing urban voters across the country, combined with their massive investment in green transition. The Tories has also lost their lead in Atlantic Canada, where an idea of a massive EI expansion has resonated with voters much more than the concept of individual accounts. Massive subsidies in battery production have also helped the Liberals to protect their seats across Ontario, especially in former industrial towns. However, what actually brought Trudeau over the finish line, was Quebec. The Combination of absolutely massive investments into green tech, coupled with new social programs, and proposed childcare expansion, on top of the Liberal pledge to "protect and promote the French language from Coast to Coast to Coast" allowed the party to make some significant inroads across the province, despite loosing some suburban ridings, Central Canada gave Trudeau yet another chance to form yet another minority Liberal government.
​

Party Name	Popular Vote	Seats in the House of Commons of Canada
Liberal Party of Canada (LPC)	33.8%	158
Conservative Party of Canada (CPC)	35.8%	140
New Democratic Party (NDP)	19%	20
Bloc Québécois (BQ)	6.2%	21
People's Party of Canada	1,5%	0

​

Acknowledgements

• https://energynow.ca/2022/04/energy-east-will-not-live-again-heres-why-jean-francois-thibault/
• https://2023.liberal.ca/policy/
• https://macleans.ca/politics/ottawa/erin-otoole-socialist-crusade
• https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/grenier-election-results-1.5330105
• https://tnc.news/2022/03/25/pierre-poilievre-proposes-ban-on-foreign-oil-within-five-years/
• https://nationalpost.com/news/why-does-pierre-poilievre-appeal-to-young-canadians-its-all-about-economics-2
• https://www.theglobeandmail.com/politics/article-conservatives-more-trusted-than-liberals-to-manage-federal-finances/
• https://centre.irpp.org/research-studies/amending-the-official-languages-act-a-new-vision-of-bilingualism/
• https://energynow.ca/2022/04/energy-east-will-not-live-again-heres-why-jean-francois-thibault/
• https://tnc.news/2022/06/22/poilievre-pay-as-you-go/
• https://www.ctvnews.ca/politics/where-the-six-conservative-leadership-candidates-stand-on-key-policy-issues-1.5888530
• https://newsinteractives.cbc.ca/elections/federal/2021/party-platforms/
• https://338canada.com/sim.htm

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I don't expect my SD to belabor over things to get me constantly. Rather to be able to comfortably ask for things and be spoiled frequently. I don't mean to just keep talking about what I want but I wanted to give a full picture.
What is the best way to convey this in my seeking bio tactfully? A lot of the more coded terms are geared towards monetary compensation, how to I set myself apart from that without breaking any rules or coming off a certain way?

I know garmin is better. Not why I’m here. I wanted an Apple Watch. So anyone here had experience doing full distance Ironman with it yet? How’d it go with battery? What settings did you use?

I'm a PRN DPT in home health (HH). I love the flexibility, autonomy, and not having to be in a building all day. But I must be honest, although I still have a deep passion for helping the elderly, I am over traditional physical therapy. #1 I felt like I was lied to through school. I don't feel like I got the real taste of reality when in clinicals. It one of those things where you know something isn't for you, but shoot I was already 2-2 1/2 years in. I'm tired of getting emails about limited visits regarding insufficient insurance coverage, even when the patient really needs it; having to fight for visits with other disciplines; not truly feeling valued; imposter syndrome occasionally due to admins questioning my decisions on how many visits I plot. Like HONEY I went to school for a purpose! I wouldn't waste visits on those that don't need it as well as jeopardize my license with waste of services! So insulting. To add additional insult to injury, it doesn't help seeing the coordination notes on how much they make off PT with the insurance companies (although I understand they may not receive that full amount, but still).
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Does anyone know different occupations that I can look into part time? Even if I needed to take some courses and get certificate for? SOMETHING QUICK! Like 6-12 months or less if courses are needed. I would hope for the salary to continue to be above $70,000 if I could help it (although I make more) but I do understand I may have to bend with salary.
TIA!

I park my car in the incredibly nice upper-middle class Huntington Beach neighborhood, just down the street from the ‘New Reality’ (editor's note: fake name) sober living I got kicked out of. I take a second to pull myself together while in the darkness. I’m starting to feel very weak, very frazzled. I’ve been awake for at least 60 hours straight now, and I’m well aware of that. It is 1AM. I can’t decide if I should get a hotel or not.
I am so weak. I need to eat. I need water. I need to sleep. My mouth tastes TERRIBLE – like I am decaying from the inside out. I need to shower. I am aware that I have many physical needs that go beyond my need for more drugs.
See how you feel after the next shot, Lonnie.
I text Kace:
Here
I pat my pockets, making sure I have two separate bags: a bag in my left pocket, which has my furanylfentanyl and clean syringes in it, and a bag in my right pocket, which has both their meth and their dilaudid pills in it. I do not want to sell them furanylfentanyl because I don’t want them to die in the sober living house that has already seen 2 overdoses because of it.
I get out of my car and lock it. I walk through the sprawling, meticulous Huntington Beach neighborhood full of spacious and decorous houses, heading towards the sober living, though I stay on the other side of the street. I walk past several houses, with perfect green lawns and perfect landscapes, walking past the sober living. I walk a few houses past it, and then cross the street. When I arrive on the other side of the street, I glance all around me, checking for surveillance.
I double back, heading towards the sober living. I cut into the side yard, heading for the side door that leads into the garage. It is already cracked open, just as we planned. I open the door just enough so that I am able to slide through. I see two phone lights on in the far corner of the big 3-car garage.
“Yo,” I whisper-yell in the direction of the phone lights. One of the lights starts moving in a circular motion, beckoning me closer. I walk up, moving as quietly as I can. It would be terrible if the house manager, Jack, came in here right now.
I pull out their bag of dilaudid and meth. I see a hand with money in it being held out in my direction. I take the money and replace it with their bag of drugs.
“Nice, thanks,” Kace whispers, as I count the money. It's right on. The phone lights move closer to the ground, so I move with them. I see 3 fresh bottles of water on the ground, just like I asked for. I pull out the bag of needles and hand each of them 2 clean needles, putting one on the ground for myself.
“You got the Q-tips,” I whisper, looking towards Kace. His hand is already outstretched, a Q tip in it. I open the water bottle and put the bottle cap on the floor, beginning to prepare my shot of furanylfentanyl as quietly as I can, while they break up their dilaudids. The phones are propped up on the floor, giving me an eerie feeling. I have seen this before.
Déjà vu hits, and something inside me works to flash me back to my horrible half-ounce psilocybin trip. I suppress the embodied, hellish memories and the feelings of absolute terror, doom, and panic by preparing the shot as fast as I can.
“Where are you going after this?” Kace whispers to me, while we all work. I don’t even know the third boy, I only know that his name is Shane, he is white, he came here from the east coast, he’s in his 20s, and that he came to the wrong place if he wants to survive and recover from his addiction.
“I might go get a hotel, depends on how I feel,” I whisper back.
“Well, take a piece of this, mix it in there, that’ll help,” Kace whispers, his hand outstretched with a shard of meth in it. Meth is Kace’s panacea. I hesitate for a second, only because I know that this meth came from Sloan, which means it came from Lucky, which means it is very clean and very, very strong.
A small amount added to my shot of furry would ensure that I could stay awake for a little while longer. Now that I am coming down from the 2-day cocaine binge and haven’t yet slept, I run the risk of passing out at any moment.
“Maybe I should, just to be on the safe side,” I whisper, before involuntarily watching my hand take the small shard of meth and add it to the bottle cap. I take pleasure in the fact that this is fresh water from a clean water bottle, a fresh cotton, a clean bottle cap, and drugs that I sourced myself and am familiar with.
Listen to you, Lonnie. This is your third day in a row, and now that you don’t have cocaine, you’re doing meth? You were chugging cough syrup, you went on a cocaine binge, now you’re doing some goddamn meth? The dirtiest, most disgusting drug on the planet? And you’re selling it to these poor kids, at their sober living? Shame on you.
I shake my head slightly, hoping to shut it up.
I push the limits in my preparation of the dose: adding meth to this shot enables me to add more furanylfentanyl than I normally would, since the meth will keep me awake and therefore alive. I look up from the phone light when I am done, and I am surprised to see somebody else is done prepping and has completed their injection before me.
“Whoa, god damn,” Shane whispers. I chuckle.
“He’s never done a dilaudid before,” Kace whispers. I can hear the smile on Kace’s face, even in the darkness. I don’t smile, for something terrible has happened on this night. Shane’s soul has been infected by another parasite, and I will burn in the deepest level of Hell for being the one that brought it to him.
“Can you light me up?” I ask. One of the phone lights turns towards me. I find a vein quickly and easily, though I am having to rotate injection sites constantly. I cap the needle when it’s done and lean back, putting my hands on the concrete floor of the garage behind me. I count mentally, and barely make it past 3.
Every cell that I consist of alights with the jolting electric euphoria of meth. My chest tightens with power and ecstasy. I feel electric light waves of raw energy emanating from my heart as my heart rate dramatically increases with feelings of excited arousal.
All weakness and negativity have disappeared from my body. I could fight a tiger right now. I should go play basketball right now. I’d be unstoppable. I’d win every game. Nobody else would even have a chance.
“Fuck, I hate meth,” I whisper, overly alert, my heart racing in my ears. Now it feels like the house manager will open the door any second. Police are certainly watching us. My heart races in nonstop anticipation; I can feel my heartbeat in my trembling hands. Only the massive shot of furry I did can prevent the paranoia from causing me to panic. I take solace in the sensations of peace and relaxation that underlie the meth high. My lady, the Opioid - even though She is the cold, robotic Miss Furryfent, She is with me. I have nothing to fear.
“Nobody hates meth,” Kace whispers.
“It’s too good. It makes me feel too powerful. It makes me feel crazy,” I say.
“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Shane whispers, as we watch Kace inject himself. There are a few seconds of silence, all of us waiting for Kace to get his rush.
“Shit, that dilaudid gives you a good rush. I forgot how good it is,” Kace whispers.
“I know,” I whisper back, before standing up. I walk to the exit, loath to be physically alone again, even though I feel lonely all the time. I wish I didn’t have to leave, but I know that this is another place that I am not welcome. The world is shrinking around me by the day. I am wearing out my welcome at the few places I am still allowed to go.
I need to go back to another treatment center, but life feels hopeless. More talk therapy, more 12-step meetings, more jail-rehabs, more vacation-rehabs – none of it has worked for me, and more of the same thing won’t help me. I am so hooked on these drugs; the drugs are a torrent, and every method of treatment is like a two-by-four piece of wood laying in the way. These drugs have my soul. Death is closing in on me.
“Thanks for coming out here. Be safe, brother,” Kace whispers, before closing the door behind me. I hear it lock, which hurts my feelings, even though I don’t blame him for locking me out. I’d lock me out, too.
I step out into a warm summer California night – back into a world that I don’t belong in; back into a world that doesn't want me.
Where are you going to go, Lonnie?
Not here. Anywhere but here. I start walking, and then start jogging across the street. Surprisingly, I feel no pain in my ankles at all. Jogging feels good. I make it across the street, and then keep jogging.
I jog up to my car. I open the door and get in it. I sit for a second. I check in on my body.
I feel amazing. I could run 3 miles right now. I feel great. I should keep moving.
I check in with my stomach. Although I couldn’t be less hungry, I know I need to consume some nutrients, even if they’re just liquid. I've been injecting cocaine continuously; I haven’t eaten a solid meal or slept in days.
I know what to do. I put my drugs and paraphernalia in the center console of my car. I get out of the car with only my phone, wallet, and keys in my pockets. I lock the car, checking it twice so it registers in my meth-addled brain, which is often riddled with unreasonable paranoia, that it is locked, and nobody can steal my drugs.
I start to walk away from my car, then stop mid-step. What if Kace or one of those guys comes looking for my car, knowing that it is full of drugs?
I am frozen with indecision. I notice I am licking my lips with overstimulation and force myself to stop my tongue. My heart is racing. I’m shaking with excitation. My brain is screaming at my body to do something, but I don't know what to do. They will certainly come looking for my car, hungry for more drugs.
You're being ridiculous, Lonnie. Nobody is going to steal your drugs.
I tell my feet to move. They won't move. I feel the urge to scream. I have to get away from here, I have to do something.
I start to jog again. I can get a quick workout in and get my brain to shut up at the same time. I start to jog, doing the old breathing trick I did when I was a kid trying to run the fastest 1-mile time in gym class.
I focus on my breath, to which I apply a specific breathing pattern. In, in, out. I jog, and I breathe. I jog, and then I jog faster, and my breathing sharpens – and then I jog even faster. I jog out of the neighborhood and onto the main road that connects these huge, gorgeous housing developments in Huntington Beach. I jog in the direction of a gas station that I know is just down the street from me.
I jog, and my mind turns to college basketball. I visualize myself playing in my mind, shooting 3-pointers and knowing that they’re in the hoop as soon as they leave my hand. I shoot a few more 3-pointers in my mind before losing myself completely.
The big, bright, lights, the smell of the hardwood, the sound of the ball bouncing on the floor and echoing off of every wall. The sound of solitude, and hard work, and everything that is good in life. The sound of the ball hitting nothing but net. Watching the net flip up after a perfect swish. I take myself back to some of my favorite moments playing basketball: back to Frederick, Maryland, where I scored 16 points on an overseas professional in a competitive men’s league game.
Back to West Palm Beach, Florida, where I got invited to try out for the semi-pro ABA team, the Miami Storm.
Back to Atlanta, GA, where I got made fun for doing ball handling drills with a tennis ball and then picked last, only to lead my team to victory several times in a row, scoring almost all of our points, winning in silence.
Showing up day in and day out, scoring and shooting and winning. Even when I was losing, I was getting better, so I was winning.
I press onward, jogging harder. I am going to play college basketball. Nothing is going to stop me. I notice that my shirt, which is drenched in sweat, is sticking to my skin. I peel my shirt off, barely slowing my pace. I glance up and to my right. There is a brown apartment complex. I throw my shirt in one of the bushes, making a mental note to get it out of the bush on my way back, certain that I’ll remember exactly how it landed in the bushes and precisely where it is.
I start to jog again, pretending that I have a basketball. I cross the invisible ball back and forth on the sidewalk, going out of my way to cross bushes up, crossing the imaginary ball hard and then going straight into a spin move. I lose myself in the movements. Thoughts cease, and there is nothing but my instinct telling me which dribble move to pantomime next against invisible defenders.
I stop. Why am I even going to the gas station? I should just get my car, go to 24-hour fitness, and play basketball for real. I turn around and start the journey back the way I came. I continue to run and do fake basketball moves on the shadow people. Finally, I find myself back in the residential neighborhood of Huntington Beach that my car is in.
I look around again. Is this the right neighborhood? Where am I? I walk around, looking for a landmark or something that I recognize.
There was something I was supposed to remember.
That’s right, I have to get to work. I need to find my car.
A white truck pulls up in the street next to me and stops.
That’s right, there’s a white truck coming to pick me up and take me to work! I walk up to the white truck, which has stopped in the middle of the road. Though the windows are tinted, I know that Todd is in this truck, and that he is here to pick me up to take me to Cinepolis for work. I pull on the passenger side door handle of the truck, so I can get in and go to work. The handle slips out of my hand when the door doesn’t pop open. The truck starts to drive away.
Why would Todd do that to me?! I look up at the sky. The sun is coming up? Shit, I’m going to be late for work now! I jog away from the truck. I need to go back to Todd’s house. I jog up to Todd’s house, which is the brown house right down the street. I walk up to the door and twist the doorknob. It doesn’t open.
Of course, it didn’t open, dumbass. Todd went to work.
I jog away. How am I going to get to work? I jog some more and start to feel sick.
Where am I?
“HEY! You left your stuff, like, way back there!” a random lady yells at me. I look at her, and then around at my surroundings. I don’t know where I am.
“What?” I yell back at her.
“You took your shorts off and left your stuff, like, way back there. I’ve been watching you. I think you should go home!” she yells, from across the street. I reach for my pockets.
I look down at my lower half. I have no shorts on. I am wearing nothing but black Nike compression underpants and basketball shoes. Realization strikes me like a thunderbolt: I have been running around in a state of meth-induced delusion for the entire night, playing with an invisible basketball.
I jog across the street, over to the lady.
“I’m sorry. I had a little too much to drink last night. Do you mind showing me where I left my stuff?” I ask, evaluating the woman. She is in her 40’s or 50’s, with long dark hair and a kind face. She has a small dog with her. He looks like a mutt.
“I figured. I was walking my dog, and saw you take your shorts off. I wanted to stop you when you tried to get in the truck, but I thought maybe you knew them. Then you tried to get in that house. You seemed very confused and out of it. Your pants are back this way,” she says, walking her dog down the sidewalk, back the way I came.
“Thanks,” I say, too embarrassed and ashamed to say much else. The sun is up. I try to walk naturally, like I am wearing pants instead of not wearing pants, which is a difficult thing to do. She leads me several minutes down the sidewalk, to somebody’s front yard. I see my shorts sitting in the grass in somebody’s yard, right by the sidewalk. I grab my shorts and put them on. My wallet and my phone are still in the pockets.
My keys. Shit, where are my keys?
“Do you know where my keys are?” I ask the woman, too embarrassed to look her in the eyes.
“No. I saw you take off your shorts here. I’ve been watching you, and I’m sure I’m not the only one. I wouldn’t be surprised if police are on their way,” she says, her eyebrows raised at me knowingly.
“Ok. Well, thanks for your help. I’m going to go. My house is in the neighborhood over there,” I lie, pointing further away from her and walking away. The word “police” forces me into action. I powerwalk until she is out of sight, and then I start to jog again.
Jog faster, Lonnie. Train harder.
No. I have to slow down. I’m becoming psychotic from overexertion, lack of nutrition, sleep deprivation, and methamphetamine. I have no drugs on me. I can slow down.
I force myself to start walking. I become aware, again, of my racing heart. It has been beating like this for days on end. It could easily explode and kill me at any second. Wait, when was the last time I did any opioids? The furanylfentanyl has been making me dopesick within 6 hours. I search my body for opioid effects. There are none.
I’m in the no man’s land between the opioid high and the withdrawal where I actually feel normal. The more I binge, the shorter the breaks become, and I’ve been binging, hard. If I feel normal now, that means I’ll be dopesick any second. I whine out loud. I want to scream up at the sky. My stomach starts to hurt terribly – it feels like it is bleeding.
I am dying.
I open my phone’s GPS and set it to my old sober living.
Shit, I don’t have a car key. I can’t get into my car! I call a locksmith, and then I start to run back towards the ironically named ‘sober living.’
I attempt to cling to reality.
My name is Lonnie. I am in Huntington Beach. I am going to Jack’s sober living, so I can do some fentanyl, so I don’t get dopesick. I did some meth, and I haven’t slept or ate in days, so I might hallucinate. Hallucinations aren’t real.
My name is Lonnie. I am in Huntington beach. I went to Florida for rehab for sniffing oxy, and I started to shoot dope. I came to California to stop shooting dope and picked up a meth habit.
STOP!
My name is Lonnie. The world would be better off if I were dead.
I start to walk. I can’t take this. I need some music. No, playing music would be suspicious. I start to jog again, trying not to think about my racing heart. I should focus on my breathing.
No, I can’t do that. That’s what made me go psychotic.
My name is Lonnie. I am going back to Jack’s sober living…

I think my neighbor is killing the strays in my alley
Hi. I have literally never used Reddit to post before but this makes me worried so much I decided to make a post about it. I’m under 18, live with my mom in a shared apartment building and we have a lady who lives across from us. I don’t know if she’s a single mother or the dad just isn’t around, but she’s a drunk and lets her kids run around with no supervision. In our neighborhood, we’ve always had an abundance of stray cats. They’ve never done anything unusual or caused any damage anywhere, quite frankly I think they helped clean up the place by eating the trash that my neighbor throws out. Lately, they’ve been going missing. My mom went over to the house earlier this month after finding that the lady had set live traps and was catching the cats to ‘send to the pound,’ Just now, me and a friend were sitting outside when we heard a horrible meowing sound, like multiple cats stuck together. After looking around, turns out they were in a box in my neighbors yard. We didn’t cross the area, just kind of stood around thinking what to do, because we totally would take care of and find these cats a new place to live, (I have family in the country), but this lady opens the door and is incredibly rude to us asking and talking disrespectfully about ‘if she could help us?’ And ‘no, we can take care of it, im sick of the stray cats in the alley, we’re sending them to the pound.’ The cats were basically screaming in this box at that point, so I went and told my mom, because I’m pretty sure if they cared about the cats enough to send them to the pound she wouldn’t have them tied up in a box. My mom goes out to look, and just as she sees and hears the meowing, my neighbor takes the box and puts it inside her house. My mom is a total animal lover, so she goes to our animal loving upstairs neighbor. They neighbor then goes on to basically say she’s seen and has videos from her security camera on her balcony of the lady walking into her shed with a shotgun and an empty trash bag, and walks out with a full one. Either that, or she leaves them in the live traps long enough for them to die from heat or starvation. I believe it. The question is, should I do something about it? I have outside cats and learning more about this situation is making me fear for them. I also just don’t want to live next to a potential psychopath. I have somewhere I can put the cats. I don’t want her ‘disposing’ of them, pound or not.
TLDR: my neighbor is a douche and I think she’s killing the stray cats in my alley after learning about her and encountering the situation myself