When I was younger – in high school and college – my friends got quite the kick out of my ability to tell a story with absolutely no point what-so-ever.
So. Jeremy Corbyn, Labour Party Leader.
The fact is, like many Southern women, I was raised to be an independent woman – dare I say, a feminist.
I really don’t think I’m a doom-monger, but this – this way of operating – this is not something I am comfortable with.
If I’m honest – and honesty is part of the game here – I would have to admit that I don’t recall much about the reality of the day-to-day.
It’s a bit of political PR spin worthy of Tony Blair.
I am, basically, thinking about anything but writing. I feel I missed my morning slot. I feel I haven’t established my routine. I feel I failed the test.
At some point you must talk about the bits that came together over time and throughout history to create this being.
I don’t want to write about it. I don’t. I don’t write well about it. Writing about it will not change the reality of it. Yet I feel I must.
I am saying that if you’re racist, if you’re homophobic, if you’re sexist, if you’re just flat out mean, I really don’t want to call you my friend.
I am a reasonably intelligent, thinking, logical creature. I am not incapable of understanding the economic arguments being put forward by governments. It’s just that I think they are not true.
Northerners and Southerners alike have continued to allow generations’ old hatred and bitterness to permeate our language. To perpetuate an ugliness that we should unite in extinguishing.
In fact, I’m really rather enjoying this writing process. It’s something I hadn’t done in years. Something, in truth, I was unable to do for years. It feels good to have the words flow the way they did many, many years ago.
I have studied with and worked with words and wordy people since I was 14 years old.
Fair means that if my colleague, who does the same job, happens to have a penis, and I do not, his penis does not entitle him to a higher grade on the pay scale. That’s it. It’s that simple.
Today, damn it, today, I’m going to find some good news. Damn it, I am.
My particular monster, the one that haunts so many of us, the one that so many of us feel we have to hide away – possibly becoming for all intents and purposes that horrible fiend under the bed – is not there.
Bullying is a nasty game. Sometimes it’s overt. Sometimes it’s subtle. Often – all too often – it’s encouraged (if not actively managed) by adults, parents, teachers, employers, and those in positions of power.
Baseball, America’s game.
I suppose these were formative years. I think that’s what psychologists and lifespan development experts say about childhood. Much of it, I don’t really remember.