Connections is the latest New York Times word game that's captured the public's attention. The

Kraft Heinz's CEO Miguel Patricio will step down from the role and succeeded by Carlos Abrams-Rivera, the president

Issa Rae's eternally superb drama comedy, Insecure, is now streaming on Netflix. That's correct, HBO

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Kristin Chenoweth "didn't want" to wear a white dress when she got married so opted for pink instead.

In our series Salary Stories, women with long-term career experience open up about the most intimate details of their jobs: compensation. It’s an honest look at how real people navigate the complicated world of negotiating, raises, promotions and job loss, with the hope it will give young people more insight into how to advocate for themselves — and maybe take a few risks along the way.

Were you watching the US Open on Thursday evening only for ESPN to infuriatingly cut

I’ve spent 10 years of my life thinking my pain wasn’t enough to justify giving it a label. I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia at 16 years old — a disease mostly characterized by chronic pain at the joints and tenderness in specific pressure points — and yet, the diagnosis never felt like enough. Even now at 26, it doesn’t feel like a “good enough excuse,” it doesn’t sound real. Back when I was in high school, I could barely go up stairs or hold my pen. I felt like my teachers didn’t believe me. I didn’t look sick. I was too young to have chronic pain. I was being dramatic. My flare-ups were always convenient. I just hadn’t tried hard enough. Others suffered more, after all. I thought after receiving a diagnosis — an uphill battle of its own — would fix it all. But nothing changed. I couldn’t consider myself disabled because my teachers’ words echoed in my brain. So much so, I confused them with my own thoughts. What I wanted, what I desperately needed, were people willing to help me fight against those thoughts, to build a system around me that encouraged, loved, and accepted me with compassion, instead of invalidating me.