Angry PFLAG Mom Rant #1

Some of the “pockets of resistance” I referred to in my post…This justifiable rant comes from one of the people who have their heart and proactive mind in the right place…

Lady Diction's avatarLady Diction

So, I spent a good part of my morning posting updates and silly memes about Kim Davis and her short jail sentence. For those of you who don’t know who she is, Ms. Davis is a county clerk in Kentucky, who was found in contempt of court and taken off to jail on September 3rd for refusing marriage licenses to same-sex couples. I’ve had some good chuckles at her expense, and I’ve successfully avoided seeing too much banter from the other side via social media, most likely because at some point in time I’ve pissed off most of my more conservative friends, and they’ve ultimately deleted and blocked me. My mantra “don’t ever, ever read the comments” has protected me, I’m sure, as well.

The more I’ve thought about the situation since then, however, the angrier I’ve gotten. It’s personal to me, and when a woman like Kim Davis takes a homophobic stand in judgment…

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Racism Is a Lifestyle Choice Part One

This from one of the most determined activists and writers I know…considering this post is two years old, it shows she was on point even then over the issue of the stars and bars…

Lady Diction's avatarLady Diction

I was a naive girl. I grew up on military bases from Fort Campbell, Kentucky to Fort Dix, New Jersey, which may have been some of the most racially egalitarian places in the country. Military bases often are. My neighborhood was diverse, but at the time I didn’t recognize that. Kids were kids. We all played together, went to each others birthday parties, snuck kisses behind trees, never paying attention to the color of each others skin.

Our neighborhoods were divided by military rank, so our dads were all Green Berets, or Drill Sergeants, or Rangers. We didn’t care much about that either.

I remember first learning about the United States’ history of intolerance in school: slavery, civil rights and racism. I thought how terrible things were back then. I believed that I lived in a time when people were equal. That racism was a thing of the past…

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Welcome to my blog-launch!

I’m so glad you stopped by…

So here’s what I think.

Blogs are like opinions, everyone has one. Most people don’t like hearing other people’s opinions. But that doesn’t matter to writers. Why? Because we can’t help ourselves. It’s this left brain thing that does something to force our fingers to push an organized set of keys to produce words on a screen. And Share. We have to share. We’re simply not happy if we don’t write and we don’t share. Ask a writer’s mother, wife, husband, child if they don’t often wonder what really makes their significant other or parent tick. We frequently space out, sometimes at the dinner table, or in the shower, sometimes even while we driving (hopefully the commissions on highway traffic safety will never force writers to have special license plates). It just means that we’ve taken temporary leave of our senses and feel the soft caress of words gently passing over the frontal lobe of our brains. And then we must write – it’s like taking an Excedrin for a headache.

Anyway, there is sometimes this quandary about what to write. Well, actually, there’s always a quandary, but if we’re lucky, we get to focus on a couple of things we feel passionate about, and then write about them. In my case, it came down to whether I should continue with my original quest – which was to give back a form of entertainment that saw me through so many difficult times, or tackle some of the more serious issues that come across my sphere of observation that invokes that spirit to wield the pen which is “mightier than the sword”. Discussing this with my girlfriend, she said: “why not do both?” She’s not my girlfriend for nothing, you see.

And so I shall. I will continue writing my books and telling my stories. But this blog, so named “My Intemperate Blog” is set aside for my, hopefully, well-considered rants and to hold certain issues up to the light of day in the hopes that whoever reads them will join me in moving something in a better direction, or rethinking a situation or an idea. Many of my thoughts about things are intemperate because the world is so screwed up, and my sense of injustice is moved to the extreme or the severe and that’s what intemperate is all about.