Jess Lahitou

Back in my early twenties, I struggled financially. But more so in that much-mocked Millennial quest of “finding myself,” I made a number of questionable decisions.

Rejoicing or weeping will depend on who you are, but let’s look at what happened either way.

Democrats:

As the headline article (“Anxiety, Depression and the American Adolescent”) points out, depression has been replaced with anxiety as the leading mental health struggle of today’s adolescent. The one possible cause that stood out to me most was the impact of social media. With smartphone in hand, teens can be reading harmless texts, or – as was the case for one young female interviewed – they could be viewing disturbing Instagram posts, or reading about distant tragedies, or scrolling through hateful Facebook comments. Maybe even comments about them.

Trump’s stratospheric rise in public polls has got me thinking about the possibility of him actually being elected and what that would mean for American women. And I can’t help but be reminded of the similarities between Trump and the former Prime Minister of Italy, Silvio Berlusconi.

All this means that, for the first time since 1992, a third-party candidate has a very strong chance of impacting election results. And if something truly wild were to happen (say, no candidate broke the 270-electoral vote mark needed to win the presidency), then there’s an outside chance that a third-party could actually win the White House.

Digital assistants such as Siri are not people. Yet, the way these female-voiced bots are programmed to react when being sexualized or sexually harassed paints a pretty bleak picture of how Silicon Valley organizes its values.

I am hesitant to write anything that might tangentially help Donald Trump, because I think the man entirely unfit to be president.

Is there a difference between what the cigs biz did back in the 1950s and ‘60s and the way present-day pharmaceutical companies have aggressively marketed opioids like OxyContin?

What do you say? What do you say when the unthinkable happens?

With Twitter awash in letters of goodbyes, 140-word final messages from “collateral damage,” my heart broke last night. That doesn’t mean anything, and neither does this: I want to say I’m sorry to Syria.