All Men are not the same by Trying to Make things Right (BLW Contributor)


Dr. Martin Luther King jr

I want to talk about something that is very important to me, i want to talk about how society is developing a very negative attitude towards men. This is something that needs to be addressed and stopped. I know that there are men who have done terrible things in this world, but there are many more men who have done extraordinary and wonderful things, and to put all men in the same category simply because they are male is preposterous.

If all men are the same because they are male then it stands to reason that all women must be the same because they are female. So i ask you are all women the same as Andrea Yates, the woman who drowned her five children in her bathtub in 2001? Are all women the same as Casey Anthony, the woman who ( regardless of what the courts said)  killed her 2 year old daughter?  

Serial killer, Ted Bundy

Are all women the same as Aileen Wuornos, the serial killer who killed 7 men, in 1989 and 1990? I could continue with hundreds more examples of women who have done evil things, but i think you get the point. Not all men are the same, not all women are the same, and it is really disturbing that there is this growing hatred for men, as if all the men in the world are responsible for the evil acts of others, just because they were male. This really bothers me, because the best people i know are men, my husband, my father, my 4 children, all of the sexism towards men is something that frightens me when i think about my boys futures.

You would think that with all the intelligence people claim to have in this day and age, that they would be smart enough to know that, women and men both have the ability to do evil as well as good, and that neither sex is better than the other, we each have wonderful characteristics, and some that arent so wonderful. So please stop with all of the bullcrap about all men being the same, because if all men are the same so are all women, and if that is true then every person in the world is a murderer, a rapist, and any other vile thing you can think of. The pictures above are the perfect example of how all men are not the same.

Stop the hate, it  helps nothing.

Check out other great articles from Trying to Make Things right  @

Death of a King: The Real Story of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s Final Year

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How much do we value our soul? – By Bitter Sweet Transitions (BLW Contributor)



I watched a documentary on Sunday about the Illuminati (New World Order) just to get a deeper insight as to what this is all about. I wasn’t surprised that the majority of persons that we esteemed as role models are in the mix as well in fact more so than others. I wasn’t surprised that they’ve all signed themselves up for their own damnation.

I wasn’t!

What surprised me really was the fact that so many people are willing to give up everything their soul and sacrificing their family for ‘Material Gain’.

What is Wealth? What is power? that one should give everything for? Can these things bring us happiness? I’m not naive to think that money is not important, it is, very much so but isn’t having just the right amount to get our needs and occasional wants Enough?

Are these things the source of Happiness? I really want to know?

How do we value our Soul? isn’t it important? Shouldn’t it be worth more than a few billion dollars? Shouldn’t it be worth more than Fame?

Our soul lives on even after our body dies are we willing to work for the devil and spend the rest of eternity in hell.

Why don’t we live right, live for God!!!

Again, How much do we value our Soul?

King James Bible

“For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?”

Matthew 16:26

Check out other great articles from Bitter Sweet @

Soul Mind Body Science System: Grand Unification Theory and Practice for Healing, Rejuvenation, Longevity, and Immortality

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Poetry Mondays – Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night (Dylan Thomas)


When Worlds Collide

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieve it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Author Notes

DT’s father was going blind when DT wrote this poem. The dying of the light is a reference to darkness and being blind.

Photo Credit:

The Poems of Dylan Thomas, New Revised Edition [with CD]

All Love No Hate by Reesie’s Pieces of Advice (BLW Contributor)


Words Hurt

“She’s so weird”

“Why is she so ugly?”

“Who would want to talk to her?”

“Are you contagious?”

This doesn’t even begin to touch the words that I would hear on a daily bases. While most people were excited about the first day of school, plotting their new outfits, or excited to reunite with old friends and make new ones, the beginning of the school year was always just the first day to a 180 day nightmare I would live every day at school.

Things started at a young age, as far back as second grade. I can remember the teacher having to move my desk next to hers so that no one else could pick on me after a boy pulled my chair out from under me just to see me cry. I can remember in middle school, walking down hallways and having to walk over legs being stuck out to trip me, or dodge objects like wet paper towels, pencils, and pennies being thrown at me. During my seventh grade year when my purse got missing and the janitor had to retrieve my purse from the car port where the buses were parked so I could use my key to get in the house that afternoon. In High School, girls would go up to guys, point to me and tell them I wanted their number, and I would have to act like I didn’t see the face or hear the comments of disgust the guy would make, and the laughter of the reaction. During my Sophomore year I remember while I was in the bathroom, the lights went out and I was terrified, thinking that I was about to be jumped. Upon emerging from the bathroom, I came to the realization that it was just a group of kids waiting outside the door to point and laugh at me. These are just a few accounts of the everyday acts of bullying that I would have to deal with every single school day.

I’ve always kept quiet about the bullying that I went through during my school days to my family and friends outside of the school. I often thought of those places as my get away. The only people who truly knew what I was going through are the friends of mine that I was in school with that saw me go through these things every day. I had a best friend and a guy that I was dating at other schools but I never told them anything about the everyday battle I had. At that age I knew that your opinions can change according to the company that you keep. I loved the person they saw me as and I didn’t want to change that, and I was very thankful that other kids couldn’t change that either.  I certainly didn’t tell my parents because that last thing I needed was for one or both of them to come up to the school and make a scene, and that become the topic of the week and yet another thing for me to have to deal with once they left.

I can say that halfway through High School and towards graduation, school life got a lot easier. Once these people got to know me, they began to like me and the bullying came less and less. By my Junior year of High School, I had enough and started standing up for myself, putting bullies in their place and letting them know that I was not taking it anymore. I would let a teacher know after class if a person was bothering me during the lesson. In the halls and after school, I would finally shoot back at the names and comments being made. I thought if I ended up in a fight as a result, I’m going down punching. I had remained quiet for so long, after they saw that I was finally taking up for myself, they seemed to back off. After a couple of conversations with me, a few even became my friend. Later on, thanks to Facebook and other social media, I have actually had a few people that have, as adults, reached out to me and apologized to me for the way they treated me during those school years and stated that they admired my courage, and how it didn’t seem to let it bother me.

One great lesson that I have learned from being bullied every day is how to be strong in situations where you feel like you are at your worst. My sister went through some forms of bullying at one point and she told me something at a young age that I could carry with me even into my adult life. Her advice was this:

“The things they say may hurt you, tear you down and even lead you to tears, but the words that hurt worst are the ones that you believe are true.”

Check out the rest of this great article @

Poetry Mondays – Easy A by Ryan Fu from The Hated Ones


There’s something magical

watching someone self-destruct,

there’s a beauty and honesty

about the downward spiral.

You can’t turn away from it

like an oncoming car crash or an F5 tornado,

terrorizing and destroying

everything around it.

You wish them the best but secretly,

you want to see how far the rabbit hole

they can fall and stumble

past the point of no return. 

It’s all our fault.

We did this to them.

We gave them the magic carpet,

then pulled it underneath them. 

We put them on the highest pedestal

because we’re scared of heights.

So we make them stars

then wait til gravity does its job.

A nation of vultures

waiting for the next falling star.

Welcome the New Roman Colosseum,

where we crucify our heroes.

Photo Credit: Owen Beiny/ WENN

Easy A




Seeing this picture inspired me to create some buzz about being humble and remembering there are other people in the world besides you. It’s easy to get carried away with success, especially when you’ve worked very hard for your success. The truth is, most people work hard for what they have, even if they started out with an advantage. Having a big head is not cool and will alienate your friends and family. Before you accuse someone of being a hater, take a look in the mirror and see if you may have contributed to their reactions. There is a good chance the so called hate is just their way of saying you need to calm down and be more humble. It’s true, there are people in your life who are just plain jealous and will never be happy for you no matter what, however, there are also tons of good people who want to see you succeed. There is a fine line, but you must train yourself to know the difference. Pay attention to the way people:

• Look at you when they think you’re not looking – Do they roll their eyes when you say something or are they genuinely interested in what you are saying?
• Talk about you when you are not around – Are they running you down or are they cheerleaders?
• Show up to support your events – Are they usually at your events with smiles or are they always absent and/or complaining?
• Ask you to join them for activities – Are you invited to join in with their fun or are you never invited?
• Post about you on social media – Is there shade going on or do they happily post about your events and ventures?

If you notice people in your circle are being shady or they just don’t seem interested in what you are doing check yourself first, then check out their actions and determine their intent. Sometimes you need to just cut your losses and move on, but if the culprit is you, don’t be afraid to swallow your pride and apologize. Don’t be like Two Slice Hilly… Eat the humble pie before they put in more than that good vanilla from Mexico!

Check out Lisa’s other great article @

PPD and Me by Creative Blog Mom (Be Like Water Contributor)


5 mos (3)


I live in a rapidly growing community. In fact, we are ranked the third fastest growing community in the country.  We are surrounded by construction, moving vans, model homes, more construction, new residents, and tons of newborn babies! They’re everywhere!

Don’t get me wrong. I love it here. It is absolutely perfect for my small family. My daughter is thriving here and, since day one of her life, has brought me nothing but life itself. I just have to admit that seeing all these young moms with new babies is making me a bit sad. I feel like I was robbed.

I was 43 when I got pregnant. We went through hell and a good chunk of our bank account to get there. My pregnancy was not void of minor complications. My C-section and 6 day stint in the hospital almost did me in. Bringing my daughter into this world was hard as hell in a lot of ways.

And still, that’s not what haunts me the most. And I do really mean to use the word ‘haunt.’ When I see the happiness, glow, adoration, and purity of a mother with her new baby, I can only think back to the first four, extremely difficult, months of motherhood. It was rough. It was sad. It was scary. It was disturbing. It is unchangeable, yet I truly wish I could go back and do it again.

I lost half my blood volume from the C-section. This was discovered after the persistent vomiting that kept me from holding my baby right away. The nurses were told to prep me for a blood transfusion, but my amazing OB was able to control the bleeding. The process was disturbing and scary, I hear from my mother and husband. I was too far out of it to know. So, I was a new mother and severely anemic. I will never forget the struggle between the desire to sleep when I got the chance and the sadness and paranoia felt when a nurse, or even my husband, took the baby away. I cried one night because I didn’t trust the nurse who came in to take her for a bath, but I didn’t want to wake my husband. I was a complete mess. In addition to the anemia, I was headed for post pardem depression.


When I look back on this part of it, I feel extremely pissed that no one saw it coming. I have been treated for clinical depression and anxiety since 2001. I had to go off my medication for the fertility treatments and had to stay on a low dose during my pregnancy. In hindsight, I truly believe that my doctors should have put me back on my normal dose the day she was born. My history had proven that the danger to me far outweighed the danger to my baby.

Check out the rest of this great article @


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It’s time! Start YOUR REVOLUTION! by DOUBLE YOUR PRESENCE (Be Like Water Contributor)

Originally posted on Double Your Presence:

Good day! My name is David Long and welcome back to another post on where I do my best to help people who have self-confidence and other social issues to learn to manage them better and hopefully, conquer them some day.

Today, we are going to talk about the topic of Revolution, and it is going to be one of the post that I feel, to be truly beneficial to you so I hope you’d stick with me till the end for this one. Let’s get started!

Do you have an Idea/Goal/Cause that you feel, can help shape & change Humanity?

Are you one of those people who believe that you can make a difference in your life or this world, if you are given the opportunity to? I am one of those people. Hence, this is why I totally understand what it’s like, to have an idea and feeling…

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One Man’s Trash . . . from Barenaked in Public (Be Like Water Contributor)

Originally posted on Bare Naked in Public:


Generally, I do not save things. I have a one year rule . . . If I haven’t worn it, used it, or looked at it in a year’s time, I want someone else to enjoy it. So I give clothes to charity, furniture to friends, and leave neatly boxed odds and ends in my alley for the “alley people.”  These are the folks who drive through the ally looking for freebies and I am happy to oblige. My ally items are of the highest quality and always picked up quickly. It’s my presentation, clean,  organized, and all items visible without having to dig around, it is not trash. The goods usually disappear before the sun goes down. Wherever their ultimate destination,  it always warms my heart to know that my stuff gets a second chance to be loved by someone else.

The one year rule does not apply to my sentimental treasures, particularly correspondence, letters, cards, texts, voice messages and emails, some of…

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