Subway brestaurant at posner park

Hello everyone, I'm being offered by my current company to relocate permanently from Philippines to Bucharest. I work in finance, and they're offering me around 2K euro net of tax/social contr per month of paycheck, + xxx ron worth of flexible benefits monthly where i can use it for my misc expenses. The company will shoulder the relocation expenses for my family as well, wife, and 2 kids (1 toddler, 1 grade schooler). For 1-2 years, my wife will fully take care of our child, so I will be the sole income earner in the family. I heard that private schools, especially international schools there are pretty expensive, so we decided that our daughter will enroll in public school. In terms of learning the language, the company offered us to have 100hrs per person subsidized training, either in language schools or private tutors. Also, in terms of apartment hunting, there will be a real estate agency that will help us find a suitable 2-bedroom apartment in city center or at least near the city center where we have close proximity to public schools, parks, subways, markets, and hospitals. the company will also give us relocation allowances to help us have a fresh start there in Bucharest.
so, these past days, we've been estimating the monthly cost of living there. so i would like to get your thoughts how realistic it is. Also, I've heard that sector 1, and sector 3 are good neighborhoods, but I'm not sure if there are public schools there. which locations can you recommend where they are lots of public schools, and near subways? Our office is located in business park somewhere in Floreasca. So to put everything into perspective, apart from the fact that I liked the role being offered and I think in EU I might have more opportunities than in PH, one factor before accepting the offer is whether can support my family there in Bucharest. As a Asian family, we tend to be excited to move to EU, but just to make sure if this great leap is worth it.
rent (2 bedroom apartment) - 500-600 euro
wifi + cable - 15 euro
electricity/gas - 100 euro
watemaintenance - 60 euro
mobile internet - 9 euro * 3 phones = 27 euro
transportation (combination of metro, bus, taxi, uber, etc) - 50 euro
eat out - 50 euro
groceries ( food, toiletries, infant milk) - 600 euro
clothing - 50 euro
total = approximately 1,500 euros

No A between Rockaway Blvd and Far Rockaway-Mott Av from May 17 - 20, Fri 11:30 PM to Mon 5:00 AM
S service at Broad Channel is replaced by free shuttle buses
For AirTrain JFK, take the E instead
A runs between Inwood-207 St and Lefferts Blvd‌, the last stop.
Rockaway Park Shuttle runs between Beach 116 St‌ and Mott Av‌, every 15 minutes.
Free shuttle buses run along three routes, making station stops on the A and S lines:

1. Far Rockaway shuttle buses run nonstop between Rockaway Blvd and Mott Av‌.
   
2. Beach 67 St shuttle buses run between Rockaway Blvd and Beach 67 St making stops at Beach 90 St and Broad Channel.
   
3. Howard Beach shuttle buses run between Rockaway Blvd and Howard Beach-JFK Airport making stops at Aqueduct Racetrack and Aqueduct-N Conduit Av.
   

• Transfer between A and shuttle buses at Rockaway Blvd.
  
• Transfer between shuttle buses and S at Mott Av, Beach 67 St and/or Beach 90 St.
  

LIRR will accommodate subway riders traveling between Brooklyn and Queens for no additional cost at Atlantic Terminal, Nostrand Av, East New York and Jamaica. Check LIRR service and schedules.
What's happening?
We're making electrical improvements

Original post
https://www.reddit.com/relationship_advice/s/qlMCWJePi8
We basically got into a fight and I blew up with resentment about many things. Wasn’t right but I just feel like I could not talk to him as I kept getting interrupted mid-sentence, denied everything I was saying and accused of being something I am not.
I also realized that when we talked about the reality of me moving in with him, I mentioned that I could sell all my furniture but would want and need to keep my desktop computedesk, his response to me was that he wouldn’t let me have my own room for that and to get a laptop instead. The man has an entire room dedicated to his sneakers. When I also mentioned the commute and how I’d have to pay for parking, as I take the subway to work currently, (not a big deal in comparison to paying for the mortgage, but still an expense) he said there could be days he could drive me, then followed it up with “but you don’t ever drive me to work”.
He did not buy the house with “me” in mind at all. It’s clear that this is HIS house and he wasn’t going to share his space in any other way besides how he wanted it.
We had plans for me to come over on a specific day but had also fought. I admitted and apologized that I could have put my anger aside and came to help. However, I wanted reassurance that he understood that if I have my own priorities and we discussed this, he cannot throw it in my face and tell me I did not meet his needs. I’m not saying of course that in any in case I would not drop something for my partner in an emergency. I did not feel that he understood this. And when I tried to explain this he said that I was “retracting my apology”..I just kept feeling constantly misunderstood and having to defend myself in this relationship with other issues as well. That was the end of that. Better to cut it off sooner than later and before taking the relationship to the next level of commitment. It definitely sucks.
AND I showed him this thread in which he of course was upset, says he felt betrayed. He called me “entitled” as he thinks I am saying I he bought it FOR me, which I am not in any way. He’s missing the point for this post in which I think he doesn’t want to take accountability for not acknowledging he was wrong for throwing it in my face. The main point was guilt tripping and using the “I bought it with you in mind” response. Because clearly, even if the commute was not in mind (currently, I live in an expensive area so to not buy a house here is a valid point), the ability to actually live with him was not with me in mind! He really absolutely did not care about me as a person and my needs or even can understand what a real relationship is. He skimmed through all 565 comments and screenshotted the best ones that validated him and sent them to me to prove, he’s a “good guy”.

Inspired by trolls on posts about congestion pricing on this sub, I wanted to give a guide to folks who are misunderstood, confused, or otherwise apathetic to congestion pricing and give people a guide to push back against the most common arguments.
1) "It'll never work here" - Sure it will. It has worked in London, Stockholm, and Singapore to great success. The London metro area has about 15m people, not far off from the 19m in NYC. There is nothing that unique about NYC relative to other cities to suggest it won't work.
2) "It's just a cash grab." I love this one. Firstly, this implies that congestion pricing will not lower vehicle travel. Firstly, London, Singapore, Milan, and Stockholm all saw 20-30% reductions in traffic. Back to the first argument - what makes NYC so special that this wouldn't apply?
Unless you've taken the time to dive into their 909 page environmental report to see the kind of intensive modeling they've undertaken, then you're talking out of your ass. The review board estimates that 150k less cars will enter the Central Business District (CBD) every day, amounting to a projected 17% reduction in traffic below 60th street. Unless you have some solid methodological argument as to how the modeling overlooked some key aspect they missed in the decade of studying this, then kindly, you have no clue what you're talking about. It's also positioned to improve air quality, increase use of public transit by 1-2%, improve emergency response times, and a host of other benefits.
The other thing I'd like to point out to it being a cash grab is, "So what if it is?" The MTA is required to raise $1 billion per year from this plan, all of which is required to be used for public transit improvements. Let's say in this hypothetical there is 0 reduction in congestion, and the only thing that happens is that the MTA collects $1 billion a year to improve public transit based on monetizing what people are already doing. They're currently polluting the air, hitting pedestrians and cyclists (such that about 10 people die in the district every year), increasing noise pollution for residents, slowing emergency response times, impeding deliveries for local businesses, and a host of other issues. The least we could do is make them pay for these externalities that we all suffer from to rectify the inequity.
3) "But the MTA is corrupt. Where is all that money actually going?" Yeah, probably. But this is a strawman (and I'd encourage you to find a city or state agency that isn't rife with some form of corruption). Once again, we can flip my prior argument around: let's say that in a hypothetical, $0 of money goes to improving public transit or anything meaningful, but we get a 17% reduction in congestion - that is a win for all the reasons I listed above.
But of course, people also love to overlook the fact that it's not actually $1B, it's $1B that can help secure $15b in bond financing, which the MTA has already laid out a robust plan to show where all of that money is going to go - namely, substantial capital project improvements and long overdue maintenance. Not to mention, I don't hear these same people demanding to see where the money from the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, or Triboro Bridge go to. How is this any different? In a time where fare evasion has increased dramatically post COVID, losing the MTA $700m a year - nearly half of all MTA bus riders on local buses skipped the fare in Q4 2023 - it is more important than ever to ensure we have sustainable income to support our crumbling infrastructure. And no, you absolute buffoon, you do not have a right to skip the fare because the service sucks, any more than you have the right to not pay for a sandwich you ate in its entirety because you decided after the fact you didn't like it.
4) "But the majority of car traffic in the CBD is Ubers and Lyfts, why should everyone else be punished?" Let's get a few things straight. In 2018, about 35% of all vehicles in the CBD were personal automobiles and motorcycles. That is compared to 52% that are for hire vehicles and taxis, so yes, there are more taxis/Ubers/Lyfts than personal vehicles, but personal vehicles make up a substantial portion.
Comparing people whose car is used for work vs. a vehicle that gets you to work is disingenuous. Firstly, people who drive to work overwhelmingly don't have to drive to work - they have other options. For the taxi drivers, that is their income. Secondly, let's talk about congestion.
The vast majority of personal automobiles in the CBD have 1 person inside of them. That person will drive in, presumably park on the street or in a garage, go about their day to work, and then drive home. 1 person utilized that vehicle over the course of an entire work day, and for about 90% of that work day, the car sat on the street or in a garage, taking up space and doing absolutely nothing. This is the pinnacle of inefficient transportation usage.
A taxi, meanwhile, never parks. It can pick up dozens and dozens of passengers every single day, making for a much more efficient use of space, fuel, and time. We should be encouraging efficient trips to reduce congestion and not encouraging one-person, personal automobile use to get to the best connected transit area on the continent. And we are - the price during the day for personal automobiles is $15, whereas riders will pay a surcharge of $1.25 in taxis and $2.50 in for-hire vehicles.
5) "Okay, but what about the people that need to drive to Manhattan?" Almost nobody "needs" to drive to Manhattan's CBD, but I'll humor it. First of all, nobody lives in a transit desert in NYC. All areas of NYC except Breezy Point live within a half mile of some kind of public transit service. Let's focus on those that don't: approximately 440k people. Of those 440k, about 34k (7.7%) commute to the CBD. And of those 34k, 5,200 people commute to the CBD by car. And I can hear you trolls seething now: "But living within a half mile of a transit stop doesn't mean the transit is good!!" And you know what can make it good? More investment in the service by raising capital money through tolls on people that can afford it.
6) "But how is that fair to the people in Long Island, upstate, or New Jersey?!" I want to make one thing very clear here: the needs of people that live in the city should ALWAYS come above those who simply commute in and leave at the end of the day. Commerce and jobs are of course important, but nothing is more important than the livelihood of residents that live in the area. And those residents suffer from all the externalities I mentioned before as a result of it, and this is attempting to restore equity. People who live in the suburbs choose to do so, and of course, that's their right to. But because you made the decision to live in a bigger house in a quieter neighborhood well outside of the city, does not mean you get to have your cake and eat it too. You can pay for the convenience and externalities you bring to the residents of the city as a function of your choosing not to live there. Also like... New Jersey is New Jersey. Their state dollars benefit their residents, not us. This is a New York program for New York residents that stands to benefit New York City residents.
Let's talk about New Jersey for a second. It is a complete myth that New Jersey residents need to drive to Manhattan. In the 21 legislative districts closest to Manhattan, just 1.6% of commuters commute to Manhattan by car. Of those 1.6%, the median income is approximately $108k. In other words, they can afford the $15 toll if they choose to not use the many public transit options available to them.
I might add that you are only charged the toll by entering the CBD - if you are someone in New Jersey trying to get to Long Island, provided you stay only on highways and don't enter local streets, you will not pay the congestion pricing charge.
7) "But what about disadvantaged New Yorkers? How are they supposed to afford this?" Thankfully, the subway fare is $2.90, and the Fair Fares program allows that to be cut in half if you qualify. But if you insist on driving into Manhattan as a low income resident, there is the Low-Income Discount Plan (LIPD) which results in a 50% discount on congestion pricing tolls after the first 10 trips in a calendar month, but requires your federal adjusted gross income in the prior year to be less than $50k.
For individuals with disabilities, you have the Individual Disability Exemption Plan (IDEP). To be eligible you must have a qualifying disability that prevents you from using public transit - which surprise surprise, is very, very few people.
Emergency vehicles, buses, and specialized government owned vehicles are also exempted.
8) "Okay, but what about my 130-year old grandmother who lost 3 legs and absolutely must drive to go to the hospital in the CBD?" In all seriousness, public transit exists, but some individuals are too ill or unable to take transit. Many of those individuals are also too ill or unable to drive.
For the few that remain, there are countless city services that can help them. Medicaid and Medicare enrollees cover low-income people and those with developmental disabilities, as well as veterans and some aged 60+ and offer free or discounted transportation to medical appointments. Access-A-Ride provides public transit for eligible customers with disabilities or health conditions that otherwise prevent them from using public buses or trains for some or all of their trip. If you have a Flexible Spending Account, Health Savings Account, or Health Reimbursement Arrangement, transportation costs to and from medical appointments are often reimbursable.
9) "And what about our public servants? They do such important work, why should they have to pay?" They don't! They can take transit and pay the measly fare of just $2.90.
The work they do is incredibly important, which is why we should be investing in our public transit system and improving its reliability to they can get to work easily, on time, and safely, which is exactly what congestion pricing is set to do. But if it's so important they get exempted, then why not exempt them on all bridges, highways, and other tolls? Or all parking fees? Why does the congestion pricing toll represent something so unique that must be exempted?
Fun fact while we're here: the majority of public servants already take transit to work. Census Tract 29 in Manhattan near Canal Street has the highest proportion of commuters getting there by car than any other Census Tract in the CBD. 6,832 workers, over 40% of commuters to that Census Tract, drive to work there, despite it being one of the richest areas for public transit in the entire city. Why is this you might ask? Well, because of all the law enforcement and government buildings: One Police Plaza, Manhattan Criminal Court, New York Supreme Court, New York County Supreme Court, City Hall, etc. In other words? The vast majority of people driving to work are police or other city officials abusing placards to have free parking on Park Row. And surely, you as someone that hates congestion pricing, are incredibly concerned with public corruption, right? (See point 3).
10) "But all this is going to do is push car traffic toward other, less advantaged communities." Firstly, I'm a believer that we should let experts do what they do best and while we should always apply skepticism, we should ultimately trust those who have dedicated their entire careers to study a particular domain area. And one of those domain areas that you and I don't know shit about is traffic modeling, and the MTA published a 900-page document detailing every little bit of considerations regarding traffic flow through robust models. I'm not going to pretend to understand every detail of how or why it works, but clearly, neither do you, and so I think we should let the experts handle this one.
So far, the anticipated effects on other neighborhoods and parts of the city are expected to be small, as people will take to other forms of commuting, like public transit, or driving at different hours than they usually do, etc. The toll credits on bridges and highways will reduce "toll shopping" which will ultimately mean many of those will not elongate their commute to look for cheaper options, and those that choose to drive will overwhelmingly end up just paying the toll.
Perhaps the area most anticipated to be affected is the Cross Bronx expressway, of which there are expected to be about 700 more trucks there than before. It might increase soot from truck traffic 5%, and overall soot by 1%. The MTA is trying to rectify this by spending $25m on an asthma treatment in the Bronx, as well as other initiatives like planting vegetation near roads and renovating parks and green spaces.
To be very clear these are real impacts to people that already suffer some of the worst consequences of congestion. We are trying to do the right thing for the most amount of people, and while Manhattan's CBD congestion pricing will carry a lot of benefits for everyone, and the overall effects on the Bronx are expected to be small, they are not negligible, and require their own attention to figure out. Ultimately, this all comes down to the very thing that we are trying to advocate for - less car reliance, less pollution, less lives lost due to unnecessary driving and unhealthy transit habits. This is step 1 in trying to address these long-term, very serious inequities and is the tip of the iceberg in turning all of NYC into a more livable city for all residents.
TL;DR: Congestion pricing good, trolls bad.
Any thoughts or other arguments you want to see me address? Comment your requests! And thank you if you've read this far - I clearly have too much time on my hands.

I had my first baby (boy) earlier this year. My partner and I bought our 2 bedroom condo in our dream neighborhood in Toronto. Great schools, on the subway line, lots of parks, delicious restaurants and walking scores of 98. We both work downtown, so hopping on the subway is an easy commute to work.
We are decaying of a second kid in a few years. Our families and friends are telling us that we need to buy a house with two kids. Sadly, we can’t afford a house in our neighborhood.
We can buy a house in Toronto but not on a subway line, which doesn’t sound appealing as I remember how bad/annoying it was to take the bus to school and downtown.
Families are pushing for us to move to the suburbs, which we aren’t really fond of the idea. We just love Toronto too much!
So, we’re toying with the idea of just staying where we are and raise our kids in the condo. Genetically [edit update: sorry for using the word genetically wrong…from my husband side of the family, there are significantly more boys/men than girls/women with a ratio of 80:20 in every generation. That’s why I think] our second will most likely be a boy. We would have them live in the master bedroom and my partner and I live in the smaller 2nd bedroom.
Can you please share your experience of raising 2 kids in a 2 bedroom apt/condo at various stages of your kids lives?

This sub has been a huge help in my itinerary preparation and general whatever questions so I thought why not return the favor.. 3 months later. Welp, better late than never!
This trip report will be done chronologically, detailing our mistakes as we went (especially on day 1). And I'll probably be sprinkling in some tips and learnings here and there.
Travel dates
February 18 to 22 – Kyoto February 22 to 27 – Tokyo
Day 1
After landing at Narita airport, we were able to breeze through the immigration and customs lines, mainly because of the Japan web QR codes and maybe also partly because we had a morning flight. First things that I wanted to get in order ASAP were:

1. Cash - Took us a while to find an ATM in the airport, but did find one in the lower floor and withdrew just a tad over 20k JPY (a mistake).
   
2. Yamato Transport - After getting cash, I wanted to buy and load my Suica card first but it turns out there aren't any nearby the arrival area. Since Yamato is inside the airport, I just decided to do that first. Paid 5260 JPY in total for 2 luggages sent to our Kyoto hotel. Not sure if it's a measurement error or a done deliberately, but the Tokyo (NRT) to Kyoto fee was much more expensive than our Kyoto to Tokyo luggage fee.
   
3. Suica - Finally found a JR East office that sells the 10 year Suica cards. Bought two, one for me and my partner. Initial load was 1500 JPY, so I deposited 500 each so each card ended up costing 2000 JPY. After sorting all that out, I topped up our Suica cards at a 7-Eleven store. But since I did a rookie mistake of only withdrawing 20k JPY, I was only able to load 5k for each card. I call this a mistake because the foreign exchange and withdraw transaction fees where I'm from are WILD so I should, as much as possible, minimize the amount of withdrawals that I do.
   

Next task was to buy tickets for the Narita Express bound for Tokyo station. It wasn't difficult to get one, but turns out that I selected the unreserved seats option when I got my ticket. All of the seats in the NEX are supposedly reserved os I'm not sure why that was even an option. Luckily, I asked a guard about my ticket, at that time just making 1000% sure we're in the right place. He found out that I had an unreserved ticket so he taught me how to change to a reserved one in the kiosk near the tracks. So big thanks to that guy.
Slept the entire way from NRT to Tokyo station. Tokyo station wasn’t as bad as I expected. After just following the signs leading to Tokaido Sanyo shinkansen, managed to find ourselves in the right floor and right gate. I tried to redeem our reserved tickets, but somehow couldn’t get it to work. Turns out that this is not an isolated issue and people on Reddit are also complaining about this. Apparently all you need to do is just let the gate machine scan your QR code and then it spits out a ticket for you. The conductor asked me to insert my 2 tickets from the NEX too, probably to ‘end’ the trip.
While waiting for our 1 PM train, we bought some ekibens and water. Got pork cutlet and unagi. Around 12:50 we decided to go up and wait for the train there. Turns out the train was the one waiting for us. Apparently you can already board a shinkansen 20 minutes before departure.. when the clock struck 1 PM, the train immediately left the station.
Ate and then slept for quite a bit at the train. We had premium or business class style seats, so it was pretty comfortable. I wasn’t really feeling well, so I had a hard time resting. Asked my partner to wake me up if she sees Mt. Fuji, but Fuji-san was shy that day.
Arrived at the specified time, as usual when it comes to Japanese standards. Looked for signs leading to the Subway and Karasuma line, as that will be our next train going to the hotel. Managed to find it quite easily. Metros and subways are really just about following instructions, turns out. Shocker. As we arrived at the exit gate leading to the subways, we didn’t know what to do again so asked for help from the gate conductors. They just took our ticket and scanned our qr codes and then let us pass.
Found the entrance gate to the Karasuma line and tapped our Suicas. We were able to go inside without any problems. Couple minutes later, we arrived at Shijo station and tried to exit when for some reason it wouldn’t accept our cards. Obviously I have no idea again what happened here. A concerned citizen pointed us to the fare change booth, but it only ended up recharging my card another 1k yen. After a couple more failures, just decided to call for help using the help desk/kiosk thing. The attendant asked me to scan my card and then he opened the gate. We stayed at THE GENERAL KYOTO Shijo Shinmachi for our Kyoto leg, which was pretty close from the station. After taking a little rest, we went to Nishiki market even though most of the stalls are already closed. We weren't very hungry due to sleep deprivation so we just bought strawberry daifukus. Wanted to check the good coffee place nearby (WEEKENDERS) even though I had an inkling it was already closed, but was pleasantly surprised to find out that they were still open and accepting orders at 1 minute before their closing time. The coffee was amazing, of course. We left shortly after finishing our cups and headed to a nearby Lawson to top up our cards again, withdraw additional cash, and buy some snacks.
Day 2 - Temple hopping, Pontocho
Started our day at 9:30 AM. First stop was Shijo station, just to have my partner's Suica card fixed. The station staff was really efficient and was able to fix the card in no time, probably because they get idiots like us everyday. Unfortunately, it rained the moment we got out of the station, which lasted the entire day. We had our minds set to our itinerary, so we had a quick Daiso run for some face towels and umbrella. After our first ever Japan bus ride, which turned out to be the wrong bus, we were finally able to ride the correct bus for Kiyomizudera. We hiked to the top with a shit ton of people and elementary school kids who were on a field trip. We didn’t really mind the crowd – explored, took some photos, and paid 400 JPY to enter the temple premises. After circling the entire perimeter of the temple, we went down to the next temple in our itinerary, Kodaiji. Bought a snoopy ice cream on the way down and this pickled cucumber on stick which we found absolutely disgusting, to say the least.
To reach Kodaiji, we passed through Gion street, which had lots of cute distractions everywhere. Entered a ring making store, but didn’t buy anything. Saw the second Ghibli merch store and got some souvenirs this time. Reached Kodaiji but decided not to go inside anyway lol. We went to Maruyama Park instead and enjoyed spending time petting and taking pictures of the most obese cats we've ever seen in our lives.
We had more temples that we were supposed to visit in our itinerary, but at this point with the rain and all we just decided to fuck it and skip them. Went to Ichizawa Shinzaburo Hanpu, an old canvas bag shop that only has this one store in Kyoto. A bit pricey, but it's even more expensive on their online store so I took my sweetest time to find one that I really liked before I pulled the trigger.
At this point, we haven't had a proper meal ever since we set foot in Japan. So we took a bus to the nearest Ichiran and got the ramen bowl with soft-boiled egg add-on. It was good, but nothing life changing. As we were in the area, we walked to WEEKENDERS (again), and ordered pourover and iced latte. Everything was amazing. On the way to Pontocho, we passed by our first Donki and ate our first famichiki. That thing is insanely good and one of my biggest regrets is not eating more of it. Strolled by Pontocho alley, didn't eat at any of the restaurants. We didn't have any winter clothes at all, so we went to UNIQLO and GU for some heattechs and outerwears. Before ending our day, we paid another visit to 7-Eleven for snacks/dinner. I think it was probably around this time that I fell in love with the salmon onigiri.
Our Yamato transport luggages arrived in the afternoon that day, so were only able to collect it when we returned to the hotel at night.
Day 3 - Fushimi Inari, Higashiyama
Arrived at the starting area of the Fushimi Inari hike 30 minutes past 12. Was wearing my newly bought long coat today and a pair of loafers. Definitely the exact opposite of clothes you’d want to wear for this kind of activity. Still, we managed to finish the entire Fushimi Inari loop, but not without sweating loads.
At the end of the hike, we went inside this cozy coffee shop by the river (Vermillion Cafe). Ordered hot coffee and bread. Place was nice but was more amazed with the Japanese cashier's fluent English. Didn’t stay for long, and then continued on our way and stumbled upon this chonky tuxedo cat. Or it could’ve been the other way around…
Anyway, after those events, we finally arrived at the end road. Plenty of food stalls everywhere, so we tried some takoyaki, chicken skewers, and karaage. Probably liked the takoyaki the most, but then again, none of them were life changing good.
After Inari, we were kind of at a loss on what to do next. We weren’t really hungry because of all the snacks, and the supposed next stop on our itinerary is already closed because of our late start. So I figured to go to Arabica instead, and found one in Higashiyama. Boarded the train to Kyoto and then a bus to the area. Turns out that this Arabica spot is the one that’s famous for the Yasaka pagoda background. Took some pics, bought coffee, which was terrible at first but got better as it mixed, then took more pics. Fair warning if you're lactose intolerant, you might want to stay away from Arabica's coffee..
Again, we didn’t know what to do after our coffee stop. We just mindlessly strolled for a while, until finally setting our sights on Gion. Noticed that there’s a gyukatsu place on the way, so we decided to eat there for dinner.
Day 4 - Arashiyama, Kinkakuji
Started the day with a fun 15km run along Kamo river. Really had a blast running there, as the riverbank never seemed to end.
Had a long bus ride to Arashiyama, where we visited the bamboo forest and monkey park. It rained again, but at this point we've had enough rains that it didn't really matter anymore. Mount Arashi looked amazing across the Oi river, especially with the fog caused by the rain.
For lunch, we had a reservation at Unagi Hirokawa, which is also located in the vicinity. A little pricey, but the meal was superb.
Shortly thereafter, we left for Kodaiji temple. We arrived just before closing time so we just kinda sped up going around the temple. It probably would've looked much better if we went there in the morning or early afternoon. Didn't do much afterwards, just random strolls along Gion and Shijo, visiting a couple boutique stores and had takeout Mos to eat at the hotel.
Day 5 - Kyoto → Tokyo
Our last day in Kyoto. Checked out of our hotel and grabbed our last cup of coffee at Weekenders before going to the station and ride the Shinkansen to Tokyo.
Tokyo felt much colder than Kyoto for some reason. Maybe it had to do with the wind. We were freezing when we arrived outside Tokyo station. Anyway, we took the city bus from the station to Hamacho hotel, where we'll be staying at for 5 days in Tokyo.
After settling ourselves in, we strolled around the neighborhood and stopped by Single O for coffee. Walked a bit more afterwards to explore the nearby stations. Realized it was getting too cold so we decided to take a quick trip to Ginza to buy gloves and leggings.
Pretty uneventful day overall, but we were pretty tired from all the travelling so it felt nice to have a slow, easy day.
Day 6 - Shinjuku, Shibuya
Our first taste of rain in Tokyo. And what better way to spend a rainy day than to visit the Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden.. But yeah, that's exactly what we did. It was freezing cold, but we had fun seeing the plum and early cherry blossoms at the garden.
We were supposed to visit Meiji Jingu and Yoyogi afterwards, but we were short of time so we went directly to the Harajuku area instead. Ate some crepes, strolled a couple blocks, and off we went to Shibuya crossing. After a couple pictures, we then went to Shibuya Sky for our scheduled visit.
Since it rained all day, we weren't allowed to go to the open/rooftop area of Shibuya Sky. We didn't get a nice view either because of all clouds and rain, so pretty unfortunate overall. But we still had fun looking at the streets below. Had a late lunch/early dinner at Tonkatsu Maisen Omotesando, which was also our first meal of the day. We didn't plan to go at this restaurant at all but I'm so glad we did because it was amazing. Their tonkatsu was something else, plus the unlimited rice, which was a welcome surprise.
If it isn't obvious by now, we're huge suckers for good coffee so we went to Koffee Mameya after our meal. There was a short line (around 5 PM) so we had to wait for a while before getting our turn at the table. This never came up on my research for some reason, but I was surprised to find out that they don't carry their own beans, and they actually only make the pourovers for you using beans from other roasteries. Both of us had a light roast (forgot which roastery) which was pretty good, but didn't really make me salivate enough to buy the beans.
Checked a couple more stores around the area. Didn't really like anything so we left and went to the ASICS RUN store in Marunouchi and bought my first pair of Superblasts. Then, we left for the hotel shortly afterwards.
Day 7 - Ueno, Asakusa
Had my morning run at the Sumida riverside, just a few blocks away from our hotel. Not as nice as Kamo river, but it was good enough for me, as someone who lives in a place with barely any running routes.
We tried this bakery beside our hotel called Boulangerie Django, somewhat European inspired but the food and bread were really good. We didn't really have much of a choice though since the aroma of the breads just draws you in when you pass by the place. Afterwards, we bought coffee to-go at Single O, which is at the other side of the street. The weather today was perfect. Sunny with some clouds. We visited Ueno zoo, even though it wasn't in our itinerary. Initial plan was stroll around Ueno park and visit the museums, but for some reason we wanted to look at some animals that day, so we did. Didn't know what else to do at Ueno afterwards so we headed to Asakusa for food.
At Asakusa, we had croquette for snacks, street izakaya for late lunch, and unagi onigiri, and cremia for more snacks. It was nice, but at the same time the place felt very congested.
Before going back to our hotel, we paid a quick visit to Akihabara just to have an idea of what the place is like. We ended up spending quite some time here, visiting a couple anime stores and claw machines. Left the place around 10 PM and arrived at the hotel at 10:30 PM.
Day 8 - Chuo area
Ran again, this time at the Imperial Palace. I think I did around 2 loops. Had a ton of fun running here, plenty of other runners as well so you could easily just latch on to their pace and cruise the entire time. It also rained again after I finished my run.
Went to Tsukiji Market first thing for snacks. Then we walked to Hamarikyu Gardens for more plum and cherry blossom spotting. Kinda wish we just skipped this since it felt pretty much just like our Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden trip with the rain. There weren't any stations nearby either, so we had to walk to our next destination, which was Ginza Steak.
Ginza Steak has set menus, but I'm pretty sure everyone's just after the unlimited wagyu beef. I think I had at least 6 servings. The person beside me, who was already there before we arrived, probably had like 20 servings. Funnily enough he struck a conversation with us just out of fun, so I told him that I think he's a very big eater. He laughed and thank me for the compliment. He was there with his daughter, who was celebrating her birthday. In the end, all of us at the table sang happy birthday for her. Such a fun moment.
We went to Glitch Coffee after our meal, then lined up for almost 2 hours just to get inside. Turns out their other branch was under construction so everyone flocked to the Ginza branch. It was 100% worth the wait though because this was the best cup of coffee we've ever had in our lives. I ended up buying 2 bags of beans from this roaster. Shopped at UNIQLO then had a small meal at TORIGIN. Bought souvenirs at Don Quixote before going back to the hotel.
Day 9 - teamLAB Borderless, Shibuya
Our last day today. First thing we did was go to teamLAB Borderless at Azabudai hills for our reservation. We didn't expect to have as much fun as we did here.
We wanted to eat ramen so we looked for one near Omotesando. Stumbled upon Oreryu Shio, supposedly a big ramen chain in Japan. Their serving was much larger than Ichiran's. Taste-wise though, I think we preferred Ichiran more.
We didn't have much planned for this last day, as we wanted to keep it open to allow us to visit places that we liked or wanted to visit again. We spent our last half day in Shibuya, doing vintage stores crawl and revisiting Takeshita street. Also did some last minute shopping at Loft Shibuya and spent all of our coins in a gachapon place near Shibuya crossing. Crossed the Shibuya crossing one last time and then we went back home to pack and rest.
Day 10 - Flight back home Our flight was at 8:00 in the morning, so there was no room to do anything else before leaving. Since we stayed in Hamacho, the T-CAT was just a few blocks away from us. We took a taxi to T-CAT, then boarded the bus to Narita. Arrived around 6 AM, which was plenty enough time for us to go through all of the stuff in the airport plus buy additional souvenir snacks.
And as promised, here's the expense breakdown of our trip: https://imgur.com/a/PCckaO1
Edit: Formatting

Write one page stories in response to these prompts and post your favorite ones here in the comments!

1. Lost in the forest, she found a mysterious key—unlocking a hidden door to a magical realm of talking animals.
2. Every night, the old lighthouse keeper whispered secrets to the waves, until the sea revealed a long-lost love letter.
3. In the attic, she discovered an ancient map leading to buried treasure, transforming a routine cleaning day into adventure.
4. An orphaned kitten, afraid of rain, found a friend in a compassionate umbrella, forming an unexpected bond against life's storms.
5. The broken music box mended hearts, playing a forgotten melody that mended the fractured friendship of two old musicians.
6. The astronaut’s lonely orbit was interrupted by a cosmic visitor—an ethereal, star-shaped being seeking companionship in the vast void.
7. A magical pen wrote the future. Terrified of the unknown, she learned to embrace each unwritten moment as a gift.
8. Beneath the city, a network of tunnels held the forgotten tales of subway musicians and their symphonies for the rats.
9. In a desolate winter, a snowflake with a secret wish fell into the hands of a child who believed in miracles.
10. A garden gnome, tired of being stationary, embarked on a quest for adventure, hitching rides with unsuspecting birds.
11. On a crowded train, a mysterious suitcase swapped hands, sparking connections between strangers and intertwining their fates forever.
12. Time froze at midnight. A clock repairer's dance with the gears led to a moment of eternal stillness in town.
13. A library cat, bored with routine, discovered a hidden book portal, whisking readers into enchanting worlds beyond the shelves.
14. A worn-out teddy bear, discarded in an attic, found new purpose as the guardian of a child's sweetest dreams.
15. A mysterious jar held fireflies that whispered forgotten wishes, sparking a magical night of dreams come true for a town.
16. In a ghost town, a lone pianist played melodies that brought memories alive, reviving the spirits of the abandoned.
17. The talking mirror revealed harsh truths. Determined to change, she shattered the reflection, discovering beauty in fragments.
18. A message in a bottle sailed through time, reaching the hands of a modern-day sailor and uniting two distant souls.
19. The rusty key, tucked in a forgotten drawer, opened a portal to childhood dreams, unlocking a world of nostalgia.
20. An owl and a firefly, unlikely friends, lit up the night sky, sharing stories that painted constellations on the darkness.
21. A peculiar tree whispered forgotten secrets to those who listened. Its roots held stories spanning centuries, connecting generations.
22. Lost in a storm, a little boat discovered a magical lighthouse, guiding it to an island where dreams washed ashore.
23. In a dusty attic, an old typewriter typed messages from the afterlife, comforting grieving families with unexpected love letters.
24. An abandoned carousel, cursed to spin forever, granted wishes to those who dared ride, revealing the magic within their hearts.
25. An artist painted a doorway to other worlds. Curious, a passerby stepped through, finding a realm where colors spoke.
26. On a rainy day, a neglected umbrella found purpose sheltering a stray dog, forging a bond stronger than storms.
27. The lonely scarecrow, longing for friends, befriended a misfit group of crows who taught it to dance with the wind.
28. In a forgotten library, a bookworm encountered a volume of living stories, each character begging to be read into existence.
29. The clock tower's chimes echoed stories of the past, inspiring a time-traveler to rewrite history with second chances.
30. A lonely shadow, detached from its owner, explored the world, discovering that shadows too could leave an imprint.
31. An old camera captured moments of pure joy. Rediscovered, its photographs rekindled forgotten smiles and laughter in a family.
32. The wishing well granted whispers of hope to a grieving soul, turning tears into petals that bloomed into a garden.
33. A discarded toy soldier, missing an arm, rallied fellow broken toys, forming an army of resilience against neglect.
34. On a foggy night, a lighthouse's beam revealed ghostly ships from centuries past, silently sailing through time's veil.
35. A gardener's tears watered a magical plant, whose blooms told stories of love, loss, and the passage of time.
36. A misfit teapot, left on a shelf, found purpose brewing dreams, pouring inspiration into the cups of sleepers.
37. The carousel's magic painted dreams onto children's minds. Each ride sculpted aspirations, turning mundane moments into extraordinary memories.
38. The librarian's cat, enchanted by ancient scrolls, stumbled into a world of forgotten tales, bringing lost stories back to life.
39. A discarded key unlocked a trunk of memories, revealing a grandmother's treasures that sparked adventures for a curious grandchild.
40. The echo in an old clock tower whispered the wishes of forgotten lovers, creating a timeless symphony of heartbeats.
41. A curious rock in the garden harbored a tiny door. Opening it led to a realm of miniature creatures and wonders.
42. A discarded puzzle piece, overlooked in haste, found its place in a grand masterpiece, completing a picture of unity.
43. An old diary discovered in an attic held letters from a bygone era, weaving tales of love transcending time.
44. The moonlit pond transformed into a mirror of dreams, reflecting the aspirations of those who dared to gaze into it.
45. A forgotten umbrella sparked a serendipitous meeting, sheltering two strangers who shared a rain-soaked adventure and laughter.
46. An abandoned toy store at midnight came alive, toys playing and dancing until dawn, filling the darkness with joy.
47. The wishing star granted a child's plea, turning the night sky into a canvas painted with dreams come true.
48. A humble lantern, carried through generations, lit the path of a family's stories, flickering with the warmth of memories.
49. The clock tower's gears clicked in harmony with a street musician's melody, creating a fleeting symphony in the city.
50. A neglected swing in the park became a portal to childhood dreams, swaying through memories of laughter and innocence.
51. The attic's dusty typewriter wrote letters to the future, forging connections between generations separated by time's relentless march.
52. A lonely moonbeam illuminated a forgotten statue, bringing it to life to dance beneath the celestial ballroom of stars.
53. A broken compass found in an antique shop guided a lost traveler, leading them to unexpected destinations and serendipitous encounters.
54. The neglected rocking horse in the corner sparked to life, carrying children on whimsical adventures through the realms of imagination.
55. An old train ticket, misplaced for decades, led a nostalgic traveler on a journey through memories of youthful escapades.
56. A discarded map, its edges worn with age, guided wanderers to a mythical land hidden behind the veil of reality.
57. A forgotten key discovered in a dusty drawer unlocked a door to childhood secrets, revealing treasures of innocence and joy.
58. The abandoned robot in the junkyard fixed broken toys, teaching them that imperfections were the essence of beauty.
59. A fallen star transformed into a messenger, delivering dreams to sleepers and sprinkling stardust on their midnight wishes.

Previously
I could not tell you exactly how I failed my semester. Everything was foggy. One thing for sure, I recalled spending more time with Al than with my studies. With her, I discovered the ins and outs of Boston: its neighborhoods and surrounding towns. She would take me to different areas to countless parties, hosted by her friends. We would sing reggae together, dance , drink, smoke marijuana, a lot of marijuana, and, afterwards, would go to her place, where we would sleep together a lot like rabbits. The only time I ever set foot in my dorm room was near the end of the semester, where I came across a stack of urgent notes from my academic advisor. These notes pertained to my parents and, particularly, their demands that I should “call them at once!”
It was through my parents that I learned about my academic failure for the semester and how I failed: not attending a single class. Prior to calling, my plan was to keep quiet like I normally had done before and let them do all the talking. That was supposed to be the plan.
Upon dialing, my mother picked up the phone after the first tone and, without exchanging any pleasantries, proceeded to blast me with her sweet voice and biting sarcasms. I was the son “scamming them out of their hard earned money” and one who was doing something that I was “finally more than average at,” making them “shameful parents.” I expected all of this from her, but what caught me off guard was the raw anger in her voice. Still, I stayed silent and listened as usual.
My father, on the other hand, was far angrier and did not mince his words with sarcasms. After my mother had said her piece, he took the phone and cussed me all the names he knew under the sun, even cussing me in his mother’s tongue. His anger made his nasal voice even more pronounced, making it difficult for me to remain silent compared to my mother's words. It felt like each word was a punch to the ear through the phone. I fought to keep my composure, but frustration surged within me.
"Mary, I bet this whole thing is all over some stupid asshole girl." That blew me up. I took it as a direct insult to Al. He hadn't even met her, hadn't seen her warm smile or her inviting eyes. He hadn't experienced her nonjudgmental nature or known how easy she was to talk to. Yet, he felt he had the right to insult her.
“So what the fuck it is!” I remembered yelling over the phone. I remembered there was a brief, deafening silence after I spoke, so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Mind you, at this point, I was no longer the same Howard that my parents were used to talking down to. They were exposed to a rude awakening. A different Howard who had long thick dreadlocks that stopped at his knees and who could look you directly in the eye and cussed you out like a seaman.
“Mister man. I want you to pack your things and take the next plane back home.” It was the clearest I ever heard his voice, without even a hint of nasalness. I could also hear his heavy breaths, like a silverback just before it was about to beat his chest and charge at you.
“Bite me.” I had answered him and hung up. That was the last time I talked to my parents. I had many regrets in life and this was among the top ones. Looking back now, I probably should not have done what I did. First off, I probably should have called them when I was off sound mind or sober. I also underestimated how cold and unforgiving my parents could be, and how far they would go to maintain their family's image. I had two younger brothers and a toddler age sister. When I did not take that next plane back home, my parents, as far as they were concerned, still had a legacy that they could build up and make their name proud, even after they left this world. I was the first child: the mistake and experiment that they could learn from when rearing up my siblings.
Not surprisingly, I was kicked out of MIT as my parents did not pay for my next semester’s schooling. I did not care at the time. At least, I had my Al and she was nice enough to offer rooming to my bicycle, suitcase and I. We were officially together under one roof. Only this was not to be permanent.
About a month after moving in with Al, we found ourselves in a situation where we couldn't afford the rent and had to move out. Al had lost her job a few weeks earlier because she showed up to it high, a decision I blamed myself for since I had encouraged us to attend a party the previous night.
Living with Al's friends was initially a relief, a temporary solution to our housing predicament. But as the days turned into weeks, we began to overstay our welcome. Our presence became a burden, straining the patience and resources of those free spirits who had graciously taken us in. Eventually, we found ourselves with no place to call home, facing the harsh reality of homelessness.
During this period, finding work proved to be a near impossible challenge. Despite my best efforts, no employer wanted to even touch me. It was then that I truly understood my immigration status on a student visa and the obstacles it presented to securing employment. Until then, I had never considered or entertained such thoughts, leaving them up to my parents.
The idea of marrying Al for a green card never even crossed my mind. I refused to burden her with my problems or pressure her into such a life-altering decision. One way or the other way, I was going to find a solution on my own.
Though it looked like a grim reality check, strangely enough, Al and I were the happiest when we were homelessness. Freed from the burdens of parental or societal expectations, we embraced our status as free birds in the city, viewing it as our own personal playground.
If there was no luck at the soup kitchens, we would scavenge food from trash bins by restaurants. Surprisingly, we often stumbled upon untouched treasures like whole pizzas, pieces of chicken wings, discarded birthday cakes (often anniversary cakes), pies, and many other items. People's wastefulness became a lifeline for us, and we were deeply thankful for it.
Beyond mere survival, we reveled in the adventure of exploring the city's hidden corners. From navigating the labyrinthine subway tracks to stumbling upon alleys adorned with vibrant street art to sneaking into buildings with magnificent views of the city’s skyline, every discovery fueled our sense of wonder and curiosity. And we certainly were not shy to fool around in all these places as no place in the city was safe from our escapades: not the museums and not even the stadium.
But even with all the craziness and unpredictability, the most important thing about being homeless was the bond we shared. I fondly recall the nights spent huddled together under the stars in quiet parks, wrapped in blankets and sharing our dreams. Al wanted to go back to school to pursue nursing, while I had ambitions of completing my engineering degree at a community college. With that qualification, I hoped to secure a well-paying job that could sponsor both of us, paving the way for us to settle in a cozy home in the suburbs. There, we could begin our journey of building a family together. Each time I shared my dreams with Al, her left blue moon eye seemed to radiate with an illuminating glow, serving as a source of hope and strengthening my determination to believe that anything was possible.
Eventually, I managed to secure employment the other way: under the table at a slaughterhouse. But even with a steady income, my wages were barely enough to cover our basic needs, let alone secure permanent housing. However, luck seemed to smile upon us in an unexpected way.
At the slaughterhouse, I crossed paths with a fellow countryman named Archie, who had faced similar challenges with work status. Our shared nationality sparked instant camaraderie, and Archie eagerly offered his assistance upon learning about our homelessness. He revealed that he had a friend at the Port of Boston who could help us find shelter in one of the abandoned shipping containers there.
Archie assured me that living in a shipping container wasn't as bad as it sounded, sharing his own experience of finding temporary refuge in one upon arriving in America. He explained that as the weather cooled with the onset of fall, we wouldn't have to endure the sweltering heat of summer. However, he advised us to prepare for the winter chill with plenty of blankets and, even better, a portable heater. Despite its unconventional nature, it was a far better option than braving the elements out on the streets.
As Archie led Al and I through the lively Port of Boston, I couldn't shake the feeling of gratitude for his unexpected generosity. Here was a man who did not know me from Adam and was offering to help me and my woman, with no payment or strings attached.
We soon arrived at a secluded corner, where Archie introduced us to his friend, JJ. JJ was a short, stocky man with large muscular arms, a stark contrast to Archie's tall and malnourished skinny frame. Despite their physical differences, JJ exuded friendliness and kindness, much like Archie. He welcomed Al and I very warmly. Hence the reason, I could never forgive myself for what I did to him. That was also one of my biggest life regrets.
With a nod from JJ, we followed him to an abandoned shipping container nestled away from prying eyes. It was a hidden gem, shielded from the outside world by stacks of cargo containers. JJ assured us that it was a safe haven, far from the scrutiny of port workers.
As we settled into our new home, JJ's kindness continued to shine through. He provided us with port safety jackets, ensuring we could blend in seamlessly with the workers. He even offered his assistance if we encountered any issues, emphasizing that he was always available at the main loading dock during his night shifts.
The shipping container began to feel more like home with each passing day. Thanks to Archie and JJ's assistance, we were able to transport an old mattress, dresser, and milk crates— repurposed as shelves— from various junk sites and donation bins using JJ's cargo van. Despite the simplicity of our accommodations, the mere presence of these familiar items filled us with tremendous joy as we finally had a place to call our home.
Al's creative touch transformed the interior, adorning it with artificial bouquets she had found at a dump site. The vibrant colors breathed life into our makeshift home, infusing it with warmth and charm.
As we settled into our newfound sanctuary, a wave of relief washed over us. For the first time in months, we felt a sense of stability and security. With our basic needs finally met, we could now turn our attention to our goals for the future.
Eager to continue my education, I made plans to dedicate myself to finishing my engineering degree once the upcoming winter months had passed. Little did I know at the time that my student visa had already been canceled, making this goal completely impossible. Being a youth and all its naivety.
However, I never got the chance to find out about my visa status or even make the attempt to finish my education. At the start of winter, Al went missing.
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It was a wicked, cold-blooded anger that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I tried to release my hands from his shirt, but it was too late. He seized my wrists like a vise grip and, in one swift motion before I had time to react, picked me up, slamming me onto the concrete.
/The Tragic Tale of Howard. A West African 9-Part Series short story about loss, second chance, betrayal and personal demons. By West African writer Josephine Dean /

Previously
I could not tell you exactly how I failed my semester. Everything was foggy. One thing for sure, I recalled spending more time with Al than with my studies. With her, I discovered the ins and outs of Boston: its neighborhoods and surrounding towns. She would take me to different areas to countless parties, hosted by her friends. We would sing reggae together, dance , drink, smoke marijuana, a lot of marijuana, and, afterwards, would go to her place, where we would sleep together a lot like rabbits. The only time I ever set foot in my dorm room was near the end of the semester, where I came across a stack of urgent notes from my academic advisor. These notes pertained to my parents and, particularly, their demands that I should “call them at once!”
It was through my parents that I learned about my academic failure for the semester and how I failed: not attending a single class. Prior to calling, my plan was to keep quiet like I normally had done before and let them do all the talking. That was supposed to be the plan.
Upon dialing, my mother picked up the phone after the first tone and, without exchanging any pleasantries, proceeded to blast me with her sweet voice and biting sarcasms. I was the son “scamming them out of their hard earned money” and one who was doing something that I was “finally more than average at,” making them “shameful parents.” I expected all of this from her, but what caught me off guard was the raw anger in her voice. Still, I stayed silent and listened as usual.
My father, on the other hand, was far angrier and did not mince his words with sarcasms. After my mother had said her piece, he took the phone and cussed me all the names he knew under the sun, even cussing me in his mother’s tongue. His anger made his nasal voice even more pronounced, making it difficult for me to remain silent compared to my mother's words. It felt like each word was a punch to the ear through the phone. I fought to keep my composure, but frustration surged within me.
"Mary, I bet this whole thing is all over some stupid asshole girl." That blew me up. I took it as a direct insult to Al. He hadn't even met her, hadn't seen her warm smile or her inviting eyes. He hadn't experienced her nonjudgmental nature or known how easy she was to talk to. Yet, he felt he had the right to insult her.
“So what the fuck it is!” I remembered yelling over the phone. I remembered there was a brief, deafening silence after I spoke, so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Mind you, at this point, I was no longer the same Howard that my parents were used to talking down to. They were exposed to a rude awakening. A different Howard who had long thick dreadlocks that stopped at his knees and who could look you directly in the eye and cussed you out like a seaman.
“Mister man. I want you to pack your things and take the next plane back home.” It was the clearest I ever heard his voice, without even a hint of nasalness. I could also hear his heavy breaths, like a silverback just before it was about to beat his chest and charge at you.
“Bite me.” I had answered him and hung up. That was the last time I talked to my parents. I had many regrets in life and this was among the top ones. Looking back now, I probably should not have done what I did. First off, I probably should have called them when I was off sound mind or sober. I also underestimated how cold and unforgiving my parents could be, and how far they would go to maintain their family's image. I had two younger brothers and a toddler age sister. When I did not take that next plane back home, my parents, as far as they were concerned, still had a legacy that they could build up and make their name proud, even after they left this world. I was the first child: the mistake and experiment that they could learn from when rearing up my siblings.
Not surprisingly, I was kicked out of MIT as my parents did not pay for my next semester’s schooling. I did not care at the time. At least, I had my Al and she was nice enough to offer rooming to my bicycle, suitcase and I. We were officially together under one roof. Only this was not to be permanent.
About a month after moving in with Al, we found ourselves in a situation where we couldn't afford the rent and had to move out. Al had lost her job a few weeks earlier because she showed up to it high, a decision I blamed myself for since I had encouraged us to attend a party the previous night.
Living with Al's friends was initially a relief, a temporary solution to our housing predicament. But as the days turned into weeks, we began to overstay our welcome. Our presence became a burden, straining the patience and resources of those free spirits who had graciously taken us in. Eventually, we found ourselves with no place to call home, facing the harsh reality of homelessness.
During this period, finding work proved to be a near impossible challenge. Despite my best efforts, no employer wanted to even touch me. It was then that I truly understood my immigration status on a student visa and the obstacles it presented to securing employment. Until then, I had never considered or entertained such thoughts, leaving them up to my parents.
The idea of marrying Al for a green card never even crossed my mind. I refused to burden her with my problems or pressure her into such a life-altering decision. One way or the other way, I was going to find a solution on my own.
Though it looked like a grim reality check, strangely enough, Al and I were the happiest when we were homelessness. Freed from the burdens of parental or societal expectations, we embraced our status as free birds in the city, viewing it as our own personal playground.
If there was no luck at the soup kitchens, we would scavenge food from trash bins by restaurants. Surprisingly, we often stumbled upon untouched treasures like whole pizzas, pieces of chicken wings, discarded birthday cakes (often anniversary cakes), pies, and many other items. People's wastefulness became a lifeline for us, and we were deeply thankful for it.
Beyond mere survival, we reveled in the adventure of exploring the city's hidden corners. From navigating the labyrinthine subway tracks to stumbling upon alleys adorned with vibrant street art to sneaking into buildings with magnificent views of the city’s skyline, every discovery fueled our sense of wonder and curiosity. And we certainly were not shy to fool around in all these places as no place in the city was safe from our escapades: not the museums and not even the stadium.
But even with all the craziness and unpredictability, the most important thing about being homeless was the bond we shared. I fondly recall the nights spent huddled together under the stars in quiet parks, wrapped in blankets and sharing our dreams. Al wanted to go back to school to pursue nursing, while I had ambitions of completing my engineering degree at a community college. With that qualification, I hoped to secure a well-paying job that could sponsor both of us, paving the way for us to settle in a cozy home in the suburbs. There, we could begin our journey of building a family together. Each time I shared my dreams with Al, her left blue moon eye seemed to radiate with an illuminating glow, serving as a source of hope and strengthening my determination to believe that anything was possible.
Eventually, I managed to secure employment the other way: under the table at a slaughterhouse. But even with a steady income, my wages were barely enough to cover our basic needs, let alone secure permanent housing. However, luck seemed to smile upon us in an unexpected way.
At the slaughterhouse, I crossed paths with a fellow countryman named Archie, who had faced similar challenges with work status. Our shared nationality sparked instant camaraderie, and Archie eagerly offered his assistance upon learning about our homelessness. He revealed that he had a friend at the Port of Boston who could help us find shelter in one of the abandoned shipping containers there.
Archie assured me that living in a shipping container wasn't as bad as it sounded, sharing his own experience of finding temporary refuge in one upon arriving in America. He explained that as the weather cooled with the onset of fall, we wouldn't have to endure the sweltering heat of summer. However, he advised us to prepare for the winter chill with plenty of blankets and, even better, a portable heater. Despite its unconventional nature, it was a far better option than braving the elements out on the streets.
As Archie led Al and I through the lively Port of Boston, I couldn't shake the feeling of gratitude for his unexpected generosity. Here was a man who did not know me from Adam and was offering to help me and my woman, with no payment or strings attached.
We soon arrived at a secluded corner, where Archie introduced us to his friend, JJ. JJ was a short, stocky man with large muscular arms, a stark contrast to Archie's tall and malnourished skinny frame. Despite their physical differences, JJ exuded friendliness and kindness, much like Archie. He welcomed Al and I very warmly. Hence the reason, I could never forgive myself for what I did to him. That was also one of my biggest life regrets.
With a nod from JJ, we followed him to an abandoned shipping container nestled away from prying eyes. It was a hidden gem, shielded from the outside world by stacks of cargo containers. JJ assured us that it was a safe haven, far from the scrutiny of port workers.
As we settled into our new home, JJ's kindness continued to shine through. He provided us with port safety jackets, ensuring we could blend in seamlessly with the workers. He even offered his assistance if we encountered any issues, emphasizing that he was always available at the main loading dock during his night shifts.
The shipping container began to feel more like home with each passing day. Thanks to Archie and JJ's assistance, we were able to transport an old mattress, dresser, and milk crates— repurposed as shelves— from various junk sites and donation bins using JJ's cargo van. Despite the simplicity of our accommodations, the mere presence of these familiar items filled us with tremendous joy as we finally had a place to call our home.
Al's creative touch transformed the interior, adorning it with artificial bouquets she had found at a dump site. The vibrant colors breathed life into our makeshift home, infusing it with warmth and charm.
As we settled into our newfound sanctuary, a wave of relief washed over us. For the first time in months, we felt a sense of stability and security. With our basic needs finally met, we could now turn our attention to our goals for the future.
Eager to continue my education, I made plans to dedicate myself to finishing my engineering degree once the upcoming winter months had passed. Little did I know at the time that my student visa had already been canceled, making this goal completely impossible. Being a youth and all its naivety.
However, I never got the chance to find out about my visa status or even make the attempt to finish my education. At the start of winter, Al went missing.
Next Part 4 Preview:
It was a wicked, cold-blooded anger that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I tried to release my hands from his shirt, but it was too late. He seized my wrists like a vise grip and, in one swift motion before I had time to react, picked me up, slamming me onto the concrete.
/The Tragic Tale of Howard. A West African 9-Part Series short story about loss, second chance, betrayal and personal demons. By West African writer Josephine Dean /

Previously
I could not tell you exactly how I failed my semester. Everything was foggy. One thing for sure, I recalled spending more time with Al than with my studies. With her, I discovered the ins and outs of Boston: its neighborhoods and surrounding towns. She would take me to different areas to countless parties, hosted by her friends. We would sing reggae together, dance , drink, smoke marijuana, a lot of marijuana, and, afterwards, would go to her place, where we would sleep together a lot like rabbits. The only time I ever set foot in my dorm room was near the end of the semester, where I came across a stack of urgent notes from my academic advisor. These notes pertained to my parents and, particularly, their demands that I should “call them at once!”
It was through my parents that I learned about my academic failure for the semester and how I failed: not attending a single class. Prior to calling, my plan was to keep quiet like I normally had done before and let them do all the talking. That was supposed to be the plan.
Upon dialing, my mother picked up the phone after the first tone and, without exchanging any pleasantries, proceeded to blast me with her sweet voice and biting sarcasms. I was the son “scamming them out of their hard earned money” and one who was doing something that I was “finally more than average at,” making them “shameful parents.” I expected all of this from her, but what caught me off guard was the raw anger in her voice. Still, I stayed silent and listened as usual.
My father, on the other hand, was far angrier and did not mince his words with sarcasms. After my mother had said her piece, he took the phone and cussed me all the names he knew under the sun, even cussing me in his mother’s tongue. His anger made his nasal voice even more pronounced, making it difficult for me to remain silent compared to my mother's words. It felt like each word was a punch to the ear through the phone. I fought to keep my composure, but frustration surged within me.
"Mary, I bet this whole thing is all over some stupid asshole girl." That blew me up. I took it as a direct insult to Al. He hadn't even met her, hadn't seen her warm smile or her inviting eyes. He hadn't experienced her nonjudgmental nature or known how easy she was to talk to. Yet, he felt he had the right to insult her.
“So what the fuck it is!” I remembered yelling over the phone. I remembered there was a brief, deafening silence after I spoke, so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Mind you, at this point, I was no longer the same Howard that my parents were used to talking down to. They were exposed to a rude awakening. A different Howard who had long thick dreadlocks that stopped at his knees and who could look you directly in the eye and cussed you out like a seaman.
“Mister man. I want you to pack your things and take the next plane back home.” It was the clearest I ever heard his voice, without even a hint of nasalness. I could also hear his heavy breaths, like a silverback just before it was about to beat his chest and charge at you.
“Bite me.” I had answered him and hung up. That was the last time I talked to my parents. I had many regrets in life and this was among the top ones. Looking back now, I probably should not have done what I did. First off, I probably should have called them when I was off sound mind or sober. I also underestimated how cold and unforgiving my parents could be, and how far they would go to maintain their family's image. I had two younger brothers and a toddler age sister. When I did not take that next plane back home, my parents, as far as they were concerned, still had a legacy that they could build up and make their name proud, even after they left this world. I was the first child: the mistake and experiment that they could learn from when rearing up my siblings.
Not surprisingly, I was kicked out of MIT as my parents did not pay for my next semester’s schooling. I did not care at the time. At least, I had my Al and she was nice enough to offer rooming to my bicycle, suitcase and I. We were officially together under one roof. Only this was not to be permanent.
About a month after moving in with Al, we found ourselves in a situation where we couldn't afford the rent and had to move out. Al had lost her job a few weeks earlier because she showed up to it high, a decision I blamed myself for since I had encouraged us to attend a party the previous night.
Living with Al's friends was initially a relief, a temporary solution to our housing predicament. But as the days turned into weeks, we began to overstay our welcome. Our presence became a burden, straining the patience and resources of those free spirits who had graciously taken us in. Eventually, we found ourselves with no place to call home, facing the harsh reality of homelessness.
During this period, finding work proved to be a near impossible challenge. Despite my best efforts, no employer wanted to even touch me. It was then that I truly understood my immigration status on a student visa and the obstacles it presented to securing employment. Until then, I had never considered or entertained such thoughts, leaving them up to my parents.
The idea of marrying Al for a green card never even crossed my mind. I refused to burden her with my problems or pressure her into such a life-altering decision. One way or the other way, I was going to find a solution on my own.
Though it looked like a grim reality check, strangely enough, Al and I were the happiest when we were homelessness. Freed from the burdens of parental or societal expectations, we embraced our status as free birds in the city, viewing it as our own personal playground.
If there was no luck at the soup kitchens, we would scavenge food from trash bins by restaurants. Surprisingly, we often stumbled upon untouched treasures like whole pizzas, pieces of chicken wings, discarded birthday cakes (often anniversary cakes), pies, and many other items. People's wastefulness became a lifeline for us, and we were deeply thankful for it.
Beyond mere survival, we reveled in the adventure of exploring the city's hidden corners. From navigating the labyrinthine subway tracks to stumbling upon alleys adorned with vibrant street art to sneaking into buildings with magnificent views of the city’s skyline, every discovery fueled our sense of wonder and curiosity. And we certainly were not shy to fool around in all these places as no place in the city was safe from our escapades: not the museums and not even the stadium.
But even with all the craziness and unpredictability, the most important thing about being homeless was the bond we shared. I fondly recall the nights spent huddled together under the stars in quiet parks, wrapped in blankets and sharing our dreams. Al wanted to go back to school to pursue nursing, while I had ambitions of completing my engineering degree at a community college. With that qualification, I hoped to secure a well-paying job that could sponsor both of us, paving the way for us to settle in a cozy home in the suburbs. There, we could begin our journey of building a family together. Each time I shared my dreams with Al, her left blue moon eye seemed to radiate with an illuminating glow, serving as a source of hope and strengthening my determination to believe that anything was possible.
Eventually, I managed to secure employment the other way: under the table at a slaughterhouse. But even with a steady income, my wages were barely enough to cover our basic needs, let alone secure permanent housing. However, luck seemed to smile upon us in an unexpected way.
At the slaughterhouse, I crossed paths with a fellow countryman named Archie, who had faced similar challenges with work status. Our shared nationality sparked instant camaraderie, and Archie eagerly offered his assistance upon learning about our homelessness. He revealed that he had a friend at the Port of Boston who could help us find shelter in one of the abandoned shipping containers there.
Archie assured me that living in a shipping container wasn't as bad as it sounded, sharing his own experience of finding temporary refuge in one upon arriving in America. He explained that as the weather cooled with the onset of fall, we wouldn't have to endure the sweltering heat of summer. However, he advised us to prepare for the winter chill with plenty of blankets and, even better, a portable heater. Despite its unconventional nature, it was a far better option than braving the elements out on the streets.
As Archie led Al and I through the lively Port of Boston, I couldn't shake the feeling of gratitude for his unexpected generosity. Here was a man who did not know me from Adam and was offering to help me and my woman, with no payment or strings attached.
We soon arrived at a secluded corner, where Archie introduced us to his friend, JJ. JJ was a short, stocky man with large muscular arms, a stark contrast to Archie's tall and malnourished skinny frame. Despite their physical differences, JJ exuded friendliness and kindness, much like Archie. He welcomed Al and I very warmly. Hence the reason, I could never forgive myself for what I did to him. That was also one of my biggest life regrets.
With a nod from JJ, we followed him to an abandoned shipping container nestled away from prying eyes. It was a hidden gem, shielded from the outside world by stacks of cargo containers. JJ assured us that it was a safe haven, far from the scrutiny of port workers.
As we settled into our new home, JJ's kindness continued to shine through. He provided us with port safety jackets, ensuring we could blend in seamlessly with the workers. He even offered his assistance if we encountered any issues, emphasizing that he was always available at the main loading dock during his night shifts.
The shipping container began to feel more like home with each passing day. Thanks to Archie and JJ's assistance, we were able to transport an old mattress, dresser, and milk crates— repurposed as shelves— from various junk sites and donation bins using JJ's cargo van. Despite the simplicity of our accommodations, the mere presence of these familiar items filled us with tremendous joy as we finally had a place to call our home.
Al's creative touch transformed the interior, adorning it with artificial bouquets she had found at a dump site. The vibrant colors breathed life into our makeshift home, infusing it with warmth and charm.
As we settled into our newfound sanctuary, a wave of relief washed over us. For the first time in months, we felt a sense of stability and security. With our basic needs finally met, we could now turn our attention to our goals for the future.
Eager to continue my education, I made plans to dedicate myself to finishing my engineering degree once the upcoming winter months had passed. Little did I know at the time that my student visa had already been canceled, making this goal completely impossible. Being a youth and all its naivety.
However, I never got the chance to find out about my visa status or even make the attempt to finish my education. At the start of winter, Al went missing.
Next Part 4 Preview:
It was a wicked, cold-blooded anger that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I tried to release my hands from his shirt, but it was too late. He seized my wrists like a vise grip and, in one swift motion before I had time to react, picked me up, slamming me onto the concrete.
/The Tragic Tale of Howard. A West African 9-Part Series short story about loss, second chance, betrayal and personal demons. By West African writer Josephine Dean /

Hey ya'll! I have lived in the deep south my whole life and am moving to Chicago in a few weeks! I know these are two completely different worlds, so I was wondering if any of my friends here on Reddit had any tips or advice they could offer a southern gal. I am happy to answer any questions you have as well. I am moving to the river north / gold coast area and I couldnt be more excited.
Some questions:

• Are there any farmers markets in the city? Do they shut down during the winter?
• For those who live in the same area as I'm in, how often would you say you use your car? I am not planning on using mine really at all, however I have never taken subways before so I will have to learn how to manage that (I am right between the red and brown line).
• How is it walking your dog? I noticed most green patches on the sidewalks are fenced off, do yall just walk to the nearest park?
• How is the music and arts scene? What neighborhoods do you think have the best culture and community?
• What do you think are some "must-do" summer and/or winter activities? How would you take full advantage of the seasons?
• Lastly, whats crime like? I took a look at the crime map and it seems incredbly tame compared to Nola, and the overall crime rate for the city seems like its down this year. But is there anything particular I should know?

And any other tips or advice is very much welcome!! Nola has my heart, but it's time to experience something new. Thank you kindly :)
Edit: removed some questions for redundancy

Hey folks, I was in attendance at Monday's Mayoral Debate on Housing hosted by More Homes Mississauga (Website, Twitter). I took some notes on the two candidates who participated and wanted to share them with you all here and get people's thoughts on the election and housing in our city.
* Who are you supporting in the upcoming election? How do you feel about the candidates & their platforms, housing or otherwise?
* How do you feel about housing development in Mississauga, housing & urbanism policy in the city, transit, and other related issues?
Alvin Tedjo (Full Housing Plan)

• Housing is clearly an important issue to Alvin, he spent most of his opener talking about how this was a priority for his campaign as a whole
• Middle-density housing: he wants to encourage four-plexes, low-rise apartment buildings, and allowing owners to add housing units to their properties (ex. adding a basement suite or garden suite to your home).
• Transit-enabled housing: he wants to pair home building, especially larger condo development, with appropriate transit options. This means planning housing development along GO, LRT and BRT lines, and building a "minimum viable transit network" in Mississauga
• Affordable & rental housing: promote the development of affordable and market rental housing by offering incentives to developers (i.e. reducing developer charges)
• More land for housing: removing exclusionary zoning in some neighborhoods, using municipal/provincial/federal land for housing, converting strip maps into 8-story residential+commercial buildings
• Stresses the importance of working with all levels of government to get funding & support
• Looking for efficiencies to speed up approval process: combining multiple applications into one, hiring dedicated staff to review housing development
• His record: was a vocal supported of the four-plex bill, has been active in supporting and voting in favor of new housing developments, has championed new housing developments near GO transit stations, commissioning feasibility studies for new transit development, offering discounted transit to seniors and kids, and voted to reduce parking minimums along transit lines

Dipika Damerla (Platform)

• Offered a pragmatic approach, understanding that the city is growing that we need to manage this growth effectively
• Notes that there is a lot of planned construction of housing units, but sometimes large housing developments (i.e. large condo towers) being delayed reduce the overall number, the key is to speed up approvals
• Looking for efficiencies to speed up approval process: mentioned examples of studies that can be done after initial approval to reduce duplicated work as an example of how to speed things up
• Community engagement: wants to ensure development is done in consultation with community groups (takes feedback from ratepayers associations and neighborhood associations)
• Will focus on promoting market rental housing by offering incentives to developers (i.e. reducing developer charges)
• Transit: Would encourage an extension of the Kipling subway line and other transit developments
• Her record: noted that her ward has some of the largest number of new housing developments planned. Has voted in favor of some major housing developments. Voted against the fourplex motion because she "needed more time to review". Would block the Bloor street redesign on the grounds that it is reducing car lanes to increase bike lanes and would increase traffic overall (the accuracy of this is questionable).

My daughter is 13 yo. She doesn't care about school and is constantly behind. I am constantly hounding her about doing schoolwork and it is stressful and exhausting for both of us.
Example 1)
Last Thursday in one class, she had one assignment late and another due the next day (Friday). She told her mom she completed both assignments that night (Thursday). After school Friday, I asked her if she turned them in and she said yes. I check online yesterday and they are both missing. I ask her about it and she said she lied to both of us and didn't finish either assignment.
Example 2)
On the weekend, she told me there was a big project she needed to do. She knew what class it was for but not what was required or when it was due. We couldn't find any information about it online so we decided she would ask about in class on Monday. It turns out it was due on Monday so it is now late. But she STILL didn't ask the teacher what was needed to complete the project.
There are about a 1000 other examples but moving on...
For several weeks after the last quarter started, she kept up on everything and was doing well in all classes. It is not a question of her ability, she can do the work. Even if she couldn't, I am always offering to help. I help her siblings with their homework daily. She knows I check her progress regularly. She knows the teachers and I are in contact with each other. But she just does not care.
What I've tried:
I try to tell her her behavior is going to be extremely detrimental to her future. But it falls on deaf ears because she has ZERO ambition for anything in life. She just shrugged her shoulders and said, "Guess I'll just work at subway then." I don't know why she said that. Her mom and I have never said anything like, "You need to do such and such or else you'll end up at McDonalds". Her apathy breaks my heart.
Sometimes I take away privileges. Outside of school, she likes to ride her bike, draw, play the violin and use her phone. I am not going to take away exercise, art or music so the only thing I feel I can threaten to take away is the phone. Which I do regularly but it seems to have no effect.
I try to incentive her but this has poor results. Money for good grades? She does not care. There is a class trip to an amusement park she really wants to go on which is providing a bit of motivation but this will only be short term. How can I get my child to care?
Edit:
To clarify, about half of what she is failing to complete is classwork (meant to be done in class), which then turns into homework. The other half are projects. Most classes emphasize project based assessments instead of tests. So every time she doesn't do a project, it is like skipping a test.

I got recently diagnosed of Schizotypal Personality Disorder because of my referring different mythology, deities, and religious concepts interconnected with each other.
I was suffering from depression from roughly around 2015 to 2019 then there would be moments when I would get a lack of sleep and I would feel better (hypomanic) this went on for a while me cycling depression and hypomania. It wasn't until 2018 that I was introduced to cannabis being high opened my eyes to new possibilities like I could be this happy. I realized I'm a highly anxious person and cannabis allows me to relax.
In 2020 I had a psychotic episode where I was walking with my mom to the subway and I was on my way to an interview with Equinox to become a Personal Trainer, I just wanted to help people get better. During the subway ride, I was happy as a peach, but then I heard whispering from the other side of the subway cart, it was a little who was just mumbling to herself and she was just looking around with a paranoid taste. I looked at her and sent her love and kindness and she nodded at me and closed her eyes. Then I received a text from Jude mentioning about Flushing Printer, but I interpreted it as I need to go to Flushing Hospital. I left the subway cart and I called an Uber, as my Uber lifted me up I had an internal monologue, I had a voice.
The voice said "Son you are worthy, to be King!", the worthy part I liked, but becoming a King I said "I don't know want to be a King and be burdened with responsibility" I asked the Uber Driver where he was from, Brooklyn = King so I said he can be king. Then I went to call two people who I had a crush at the time, one I would be referred to as a Lady Sif and another a Valkyrie, I just automatically assumed their title and they responded normally. I assume I was Thor.
I got to Flushing Hospital and I bypass the security and followed an old man going to see his daughter or wife, I still have no reason why I was there, I thought I was going to perform a miracle, and I was on the 4th floor by then. I was answering's doctor's call which were empty. Then the medical staff noticed I was there, there was another older gentleman who said "You have nice hair" and my Grandfather would say the same thing.
The security team arrived to escort me out and they were disappointed in themselves for missing me and allowing me to come in, they were annoyed by my presence.
Since then I've gone through many Archetype.
Marvel Thor was cast out of Heaven due to arrogance and to learn humility. I equate that to Lucifer, a lightbearer, and Lucifer is equates to a Dragon. I have this book call "An Initiate's Guide to the Path of the Dragon" which ties everything for Dragon path.
I went through a plethora of ArcheType I really thought I was God because I was able to create a pantheon a series of what I would call evidence.
Aang The Avatar: The Last Air Bender shares the same name as my Vietnamese Name "An" it's pronounced the same. An in Sumerian is number 60, I am also number 60 in my Kung Fu Lineage. Then I received the name "Samuel Wiest" and from there things started to get biblical. I have a degree in BTech Computer Information system so I started to see things as in codes.
I would mean "Daniel" would be "God is my judge" and Ingram "angel, raven, or ruler" the most recent archetype if Dream, and I would use his Family Tree mostly recognizing the different archetypes and characters around me.
I received a Hot Pink Umbrella that said Dream Hotel from a local park that has Graffiti "I LOVE YOU JESUS!" and "ELI" "MER" "SIL" and "SUPA" tagged on the billboard.
I've cycled through and attached to different archetypes, I still use Dream and N30 Morpheus as my "high self".
Anansi the Spider, King of Stories, and Loki, God of Stories has been resonating a lot.
I meant this clown named Spatz Donavan and he worked with Jim Carey to get into spirituality, he worked with performers like Michael Jackson. I called Spatz Merlin, but Merlin is also Odin and I'm Loki his blood brother.
There are just a lot of things that happened that connect to each other, like the show Mr. Robot and Raganarok the endings are the same where it was all in the character's head.
On Facebook, there a lot of people who seem to pick up on the Lucifer archetype and then Lucifer in the Netflix series becomes a boddhisatva of Hell.
There is a trend where Anti-Heroes or the An Thai Christ, I use my name as part of the equation.
An = Peace Shalom = Peace
Lately I've been exploring the Abrahamic religion because I want to learn more about the Holy Spirit.
I was wondering if this is a common thing to explore archetype.
I looked in Anansi the Spider because it contained "An" my name and my initial is AT = @
@ looks like O+a which reminds me of the Netflix Series The OA (Original Angel)
The most recent death Akira Toriyama's initial is AT, he is known for Dragon Ball and Dragon Quest. Dragon Ball characters such as Son Goku take after Sun Wu Kong, and Sun Wu Kong is Hanuman.
After watching the show Loki, I believe we are all variants of each other, so there is a say "view all as your mother", since people as variants from one another helps me navigate.
Journey to the West, Sun Wu Kong because a Buddha
I believe I connect with Chenrezig aka Avalokiteshvara the most, after watching ABC: American Born Chinese, I'm a firmly believer that my mother is Guan Yin and I'm learning the path back to Source.
I'm writing because it's the only thing that brings me joy and hopefuly opens to other who would like to share their story.
I personally don't subscribe to Schizotypal Personability Disorder, but I'll borrow the name because I do look at SchizoPoster's Memes.
I learned OM MANI PADME HUM Mantra from a group of Guan Yin' Disciples in California, ever since then my parents have taken on meditation practice and even setup an altar since I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder which I definitely do have since I've felt the highs and lows, writing because I feel low right now and didn't know where else where I would post and discuss besides Reddit.
Anyways I wonder if this has to do anything with the Arisings and Passings or has anyways gone though this Archetypal journey?

Sublet Alert - for Summer 2024 Location: 415 West 120th Street, New York, 10027 Dates: May 20 to Aug 20th, 2024 Subletting a luxurious Master Bedroom with a Private Bathroom in a 3 bedroom apartment “Monarch Heights Apartments” https://www.monarchheights.com/ It has all the facilities, which includes a fully furnished bedroom, kitchen, dining area, spacious central living room, laundry inside the apartment, fitness center in the basement, Community Doorman, elevator, wifi, smart television, air-condition, heating, glass windows, rooftop terrace, game rooms, several study areas, & free coffee bar, etc. Price reduced from 3200 to $2500 per month. Comfortable place to live. Convenient Location: Living in the heart of Academic NYC, Morningside Heights, best-located residence, close to Columbia University, Bernard College, subway, Apple Tree grocery, pharmacy, restaurants, parks, etc. Male students only. If interested, Please DM me at 3612126803, Thank you in advance.

Hi all!
I wasn’t sure if this fit the sub but the girl who handed a note to a cute guy on the subway motivated me. I (31M) ran into a pretty unique situation (especially for me) last week and would love to hear thoughts/advice.
So I live in NYC and was walking to work last Thursday, when a cute girl walked out of a shop on my street with a little cat inside her purse. I’m definitely not a huge approach strangers person but I also have a cat so I commented on it and let her know I always have wanted to get her used to outside/take her out more. I actually have tried taking her out a good amount of times, she usually gets scared and also it’s weird standing at a park alone with a cat on a leash so I kind of just stopped. But she was super friendly and open when I told her, and gave me her cat’s instagram (lol). Later she DM’d me a bunch of “cat walk” people/groups and mentioned that we should go sometime.
So I just go to work and sometime in the afternoon she initiates like a concrete plan to go over the weekend. It’s something I wanted to do anyway and now a cute girl is offering to come help me so of course I’m down. We meet up, chat a bit and head to a nearby park. It was a lovely time, and she mentioned that it’s good to take her out often so we should do this again.
It’s honestly great news even if she wasn’t a cute girl, I need new social things to do and I love my cat. But now I’m in this weird place where like 90% of the conversation was cat-related. We had fun but seriously like I know her name, where she’s from (Czechia, cute accent!) and that she’s super into cats. There was a quick moment she mentioned she got the cat with her ex and kept him in the “divorce”, but don’t want to read too deep into anything
Anyway, we have another plan to meet up this weekend. I’m fine naturally meeting new people and can probably be a little flirty, but I also want to just keep this person around whether I want her or not! I would want to steer it in that direction though, so if anyone has tips to somewhat clear the “friend who I walk cats with” zone, please advise!
TD;DR: Met a girl on the street, we both like to take our cats outside, we met up that weekend at a park with our cats, but not really a date vibe. Looking for advice on how to keep that door open without shutting the friend/social part completely.

Morning all (or afternoon, evening, take your pick), I've been a problem substance abuser for twenty three years now, starting at 16. Luckily nothing too heavy, initially weed, I was never a gifted smoker and could never hold down a job, looked like shit and didn't care, slept all day and all night, tons of debt, shitty friends, missed out on hundreds, maybe thousands of amazing experiences because I wanted to stay home and get high. In 2008 I broke out of that, got a job in teaching and have been essentially a functioning alcoholic ever since. It's like my whole life I've always just been bad at being clear headed and straight, never content to just sit there without something getting me wrecked. Teaching is full of drinkers, I love rock, punk, metal, clubs, festivals, all full of drinkers. I am currently travelling around various spots in Asia (Vietnam - Malaysia - Japan - Thailand - currently Taiwan), working online and living the dream. Full of drinkers. I have also been a liability on a number of occasions. Drinking until 4am, blacking out, waking up somewhere where I don't know where I am. I dont piss myself but I do lose a lot of hats and cigarettes. Last Saturday morning I woke up on a bench, made it about 200m down the street then passed out on another bench, threw up under it then finally got my shit together and stumbled home. This was at about 7am in a big city in Taiwan. Families, kids going to Saturday school, elderly people exercising, everyone going about their day. And me, a 6ft3in white male barfing and sleeping in the middle of a park next to a busy subway station. It's fucking pathetic and I hate myself for it. I'm too old and too tired and my body is too beaten up to keep on doing this. But, booze is everywhere, and no matter how bad it gets I always convince myself of the same old cycle - quit completely for a little while - pat myself on the back for being a good boy - convince myself I can drink in moderation - drink in moderation for a little while - get a true taste for it - lose a whole weekend and wake up Monday feeling like hell - Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, sober and working but filled with existential dread and suicidal ideation. I'm going back to the UK in a few weeks. Even if I manage to quit for a while here, when I'm back home I will be surrounded at all time by fellow drinkers, heavy drinkers, and various sniffables and smokables and the ten months I've spent getting my head together, avoiding everything other than booze, will all go out of the window and I'll be waking up at 6am on Monday for work after 4 hours sleep all weekend with a nose clogged with blood and regret and that specific kind of headache that only valium and more booze can come close to shifting. It's fucking depressing knowing this is how weak I am. Anyway, no real point or request, just haven't put this into words for anyone else to read. I've written loads in my diary but I'm already anxious that if I die suddenly and my mother reads it she will then also die, but of secondhand shame. I'm not particularly addicted to alcohol, I only drink beer and occasionally shots, I can go days and sometimes weeks without really missing it, if the time and place is right. I'm addicted to parties and late nights and chatting shit and singing and dancing. Which is a shame because they all lose some of their appeal when you're on the soft drinks. I mean, they don't, it's all about perception. How do you cope, those that have broken free? What're your stories? I feel like this cycle is similar for everyone that knows they have a problem. Thank you for reading x