What’s up with guilty pleasures, anyway?

I don’t believe in guilty pleasures. Unless you’re the type of person that enjoys having sex with children, bathing in the blood of people you’ve murdered, or chewing with your mouth open, there is no reason to be ashamed of what you like.

What’s up with anti-feminists, anyway?

You’ve seen these posts, I’m sure. Women who are proudly rejecting feminism as an outdated concept based around a hatred of men and a sense of entitlement.

Our response has been one of either anger (no one likes to be called entitled) or pity (how sad for these women that they don’t realize all the great things we’re doing for them).

I’d like to propose a third option – understanding.

What’s up with grief, anyway?

What, are you crying? You don’t cry, all right? You keep your chin up. Come on, keep your chin up. Crying never helped anybody do anything, okay? You have a problem, you face it like a man.

…Hey, hey, I’m sorry, okay?  Twenty-six years buried in the deepest darkest jungle, and I still became my father.

I grew up on Robin Williams. Mrs. Doubtfire and Jumanji and Flubber! were my favorite non-animated movies. Aladdin was only second to the Little Mermaid (she has red hair AND lives in the ocean! That bitch had everything). His characters always motivated me to be a better version of myself, but never to compromise who I was, because nothing was worth the price of losing your sense of self.

What’s up with compromise, anyway?

I think people have developed a phobia of the word compromise. There seem to be two schools of thought going around:

1. To be happy, you must never compromise. If people do not love you exactly the way you are then they don’t love you at all. If you have not found someone you love everything about all the time then you haven’t met the right person.
2.  To be happy, you must always compromise. If you are not willing to sacrifice everything that has ever mattered to you for the sake of another person then you do not truly love that person. The same is true for them.

If I may, I would like to humbly suggest a third school of thought:

What’s up with sexism at the TTC, anyway?

Alright, fine. You want to play that way, TTC? Let’s play.

What’s up with the animosity on the TTC, anyway?

There was a “medical emergency at track level” today. As with any subway delay, the affected part of the city absolutely implodes with panic. On the bright side, it gave me an unexpected amount of time to reflect on the soured relations between the TTC and the public.