There’s a strange weight to having a male best friend. People see us together and immediately want to assign a label, a story, a script. “Are you dating?” “Do you like him?” “Is there something going on behind the scenes?” And the truth is, none of that matters to us. But the questions linger, because society doesn’t really know what to do with a friendship like ours.

As National Day for Truth and Reconciliation approaches, I feel it tug at me in ways that are hard to explain. For many, it’s a national day of mourning, of reflection, of learning. For me, it is family history.

Some relationships are easy to define. Some are neat, tidy, and fit into neat little boxes with labels like “dating,” “partners,” or “serious.”

I didn’t go to work looking for friendship. I went for the cheque, the benefits, the illusion of stability. Like most of us. I kept my head down, did the job, played nice in meetings, and dipped when the clock hit 4:59.

Let me tell you something about waking up at 40 and realizing you’ve built a career that pays the bills but starves your soul: it’s not a graceful epiphany.

Somewhere, George Orwell is either laughing darkly into his tea or screaming into the void—and honestly, both feel appropriate. I picked up 1984 again last night, thinking I’d casually revisit a “classic.” Spoiler alert: it didn’t feel like fiction. It felt like a damn news report.

Let’s rip the Band-Aid off, shall we? Rejecting someone gracefully is like trying to eat a taco without something falling out—it looks doable, but reality hits different when the guac is sliding down your wrist.

In a political landscape that’s felt more like a reality show than a functioning democracy, something remarkable happened—Canada chose calm over chaos, reason over rhetoric, and common sense over the never-ending churn of rage-bait politics.

Let’s get one thing out of the way: I don’t usually like platforms other than Instagram. But then again, all social media is basically a...

Let’s talk about small victories. Not the highlight reel, not the “just closed a $250k deal from my laptop in Tulum” nonsense.

I’ve kept my political opinion off this blog—not because I don’t care, but because I wanted this space to breathe, to hold joy,...

Girls’ night in our 40s hits different. It’s less “who’s getting laid?” and more “who’s still awake past 9?”

Just a quick look at the news, and it's obvious there's a ton going wrong in the world. It's no wonder it can feel totally overwhelming.

I met someone a while back, and I really like him. Like, really like him. He’s funny, kind, and makes me feel like I can be completely mysel

Blogging has been declared dead more times than we can count, but is there any truth to the claim?