Lifestyle
For the lives that we love, and everything that comes with it.
Sexual Harassment and Seeing Women As They Are
In light of recent reports detailing Hollywood mogul Harvey Weinstein's alleged acts of sexual harassment and assault, a Medium article was released advising male readers that if they are ever unsure of how to appropriately treat a female colleague, imagine her as Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson.
By Caolinn Douglas8 years ago in Viva
Pets... Are They Just Furry Companions or Furry Children?
There's always been a debate whether or not you're parents when you only have a four legged furry friend running around the house. Some say because you didn't give birth to it yourself, it's not your child. But you also put the time when they are puppies to teach them manners, potty train them, keep them out of trouble, and make sure they get all the love and attention they need. Or if they're like my dog the attention she wants when she wants it. But I think that's most dogs and cats. When they want attention they get it no matter what.
By Alix Nicole8 years ago in Petlife
The Rhetorical Analysis of Peggy Orenstein's 'Just Between You, Me, and My 622 Bffs'
When I first got into Facebook and Twitter, I got bullied because of my weight and looks. I would have people comment on my pictures "You're fat," "You are a cunt," "You need to lose weight," "It looks like your face got ran over a bus six times," and the worst one, "You're too ugly to be alive." This, of course, killed me inside. I stayed home for days at a time thinking to myself, "Am I really that ugly?" When I would go to school, I'd ignore everybody because I was afraid that they would start telling me all of those things to my face. But then I met my friend Adrianna in seventh grade. Adrianna always stuck up for me when people would start to call me names. Adrianna and my cousin Brittany were the two that made me feel good about myself. They made it so I wouldn't care what people would think, but then the bullying started to get worse. I went to my principal and tried talking to him about what was going on.
By Kristina Bratsch8 years ago in Viva
10 Things - A Dog's Life
Milo, my cavalier, is three this year—at the very end of the year none the less. He's grown so much since I got him back in June of 2015—he was just six months old, full of excitement, cuddles, and not to mention his adoring love for my arm.
By Nicole Topping8 years ago in Petlife
My #MeToo Story
Trigger warning. Trigger warning. Trigger warning! If you are triggered by talk of rape, sexual abuse, underage drinking, underage smoking, mentions of drug use, allusions of parental abuse, victim blaming, vulgar language, etc. then do not read this story. This is your warning.
By Nikki Jones8 years ago in Viva
My Name is Hope
I never really thought about how life could be so horrible…things were never so good for my family and I. We had to do bad things like sell drugs and rob stores just to obtain money. We stole from people who needed the money too, because where I come from the only rich folks that were around were white people. We stole from people just like us…who planned on saving that money for their kids to have a better life than their parents whom had no education. I never really knew what it felt like to be fortunate, never in my life. I’m 15-years-old and I don’t really have a name, because I don’t really know who I am or if what my poor parents named me fits who I am. They named me Hope, not because they liked how it sounded slipping off their tongues, but because they hoped that I was going to be their little hope, their sunshine in the darkness, but unfortunately, I’m not; and I’m so sorry to my mom and dad for that. Growing up, I was never happy, but my mom would always try her best to make sure I was. She tried and tried without success, so she eventually gave up, but that’s okay she gave up. Moms do get tired sometimes and it’s not her fault that her little hope is a train wreck of a human being. I’ve been in and out of court so many times and dropped back to my little tent of a house after getting arrested for stealing liquor to resell at a higher price, just so I can get some food on the table for my family, not that nasty kind of food either. The times they put me on probation the P.O. (Parole Officer) always insisted that I take a drug and alcohol test, which was completely useless because I’m not interested in doing drugs at all. I’ve never tried any kind. Growing up like me, it’s a gift not having the urge to do drugs and drink poison, but that doesn’t mean I won’t sell them to make that extra cash. I started selling dope when I was 14 and not the weed kind. The white, rocky, sometimes powdery substance — yes just a year ago, boohoo. I started selling coke for this really scary rich white man, only because he told me he’d get me deported along with my family, if I didn’t. This white man was very intimidating, but he was nice enough to give me 50% of the profit from the coke, because he knew I lived on the streets. I think the worst part about selling drugs and alcohol was being on a corner selling them. A corner across the street from my mom. I watched her get picked up by strange men at a certain time of the night, but these strange men would always bring her back to the same spot and sometimes she would be badly bruised and hurt. My mom…she’s tough. Despite being in so much pain, she’d laugh it off and wave her cash at me from across the street. While I was selling drugs and alcohol, she was selling something much more expensive, divine, real, and too precious…her body. I didn’t agree with it at all, but I couldn’t say anything or else my dad’s drunk self would get very mad at me and try to kill me like all the other times. My Pops loved me at one point, but right when things started getting harder, he faded away faster. Drowning himself in liquor and letting his lungs be invaded with methamphetamine a.k.a. crystal meth. Sometimes he wouldn’t sleep for days on and he would start talking to someone that wasn’t there; he called him death. Though it was scary to watch this, I got used to it and stopped caring. I’d even give him liquor. I stole to shut him up sometimes. The thing about me is…as I grew up I started feeling this numbness that eventually grew. I can’t feel pain, no regret, and no sadness or grief. I’d still tell my mom and dad I loved them every day, though only because I was hoping they’d say it back sometimes, just to see if it could make me feel anything at all, that maybe they could fix how broken I am with a simple ‘I love you too,’ but no. Not once did I ever hear it again, because I took their love for granted. How could a prostitute who probably has no idea who my real father is ever love me anyways? How can a junkie, who'd rather talk to his beloved death rather than his whatever the fuck I am to him, ever love me anyways? When I realized everything I’ve ever done for my parents was completely useless to me, I started not going home. I started completely hating myself for everything. I’m a genius, I know I am, but I messed up my future by trying too hard for my parents, trying too hard to get them out of their unsuccessfulness, that I became unsuccessful myself. Who I am is definitely not hope. Don’t do things for people who don’t care about you, it’s only going to get you nowhere.
By Raven Woods8 years ago in Families
