The world won't stop screaming. Every ping on the phone delivers fresh disaster. Every headline promises the end of something. Doomscrolling has become a reflex, and the brain can't process one crisis before three more arrive. The desperate need to fix something, control anything, takes over when the entire system seems built to self-destruct. Start here: figure out what's actually yours to manage. Most of what floods the news feed lives completely outside anyone's individual

Dystopian fiction has always been absurdly far-fetched. No wonder school boards keep banning these books. Too unrealistic for classroom consumption. I blame Tolkien for starting all these dystopian novels with his silly little book Lord of the Rings about Frodo and a Fellowship on a quest to destroy a magic ring. Like who in their right mind would want to destroy a ring with power. That ridiculous premise set the tone for everything that followed. Take Margaret Atwood's The H

People treat kindness like a loan shark treats money. Everything comes with interest, invisible repayment plans, and the nagging suspicion that someone's keeping score. Accept a compliment and watch the mental gymnastics begin. Someone says your hair looks great, and suddenly you're offering detailed credit to your stylist, the humidity levels, and possibly divine intervention. This isn't etiquette. It's a pathology masquerading as good manners. Decades of transactional think

Before Televisa packaged melodrama for screens, Mexican families leaned toward radios and built entire worlds inside their heads. One voice. Sound effects. Music. Everything else came from imagination. That was how Porfirio Cadena entered homes. Not as an image, but as a presence. “¿Por qué se hizo criminal el ojo de vidrio?” The question crackled through speakers starting in the 1950s, crossing Mexico and pushing deep into the United States. The line landed in kitchens, pati