Wednesday, February 29, 2012

That's just, like, your opinion, man.

It was the opinion of my mother that I needed to learn how to type. So she made me.

It was the opinion of Rome that it could rule by conquest. So it did.

It was the opinion of Gandhi that violence was wrong. So he preached his message.

It was the opinion of the Twelve Apostles that they knew the truth. So they spread it.

It was the opinion of American colonies that they were oppressed. So they threw it off.

It was the opinion of Martin Luther King that racial separation could be fought against, and ended. So he spread his message.

It was the opinion of the Civil Rights movement that racism was wrong. So they changed how things were viewed.

It was the opinion of certain of the United States that their rights were being trampled upon. So they attempted to secede.

It was the opinion of women that they should have the right to vote. So they fought for it.

It was the opinion of Germany that it should rule Europe. So it fought to do so.

It was the opinion of the Allied nations that they would not be ruled. So they fought against it.

It was the opinion of many voters, in 2008, that Obama should be President. So they voted for it.

It was the opinion of others that McCain should be President. So they voted for it.

Don't tell me it's just my opinion. If I didn't believe it was the truth, if I didn't believe it was worth holding, I wouldn't have it.

My opinion might not be yours. But that doesn't mean I won't act on it.


Pro-choice. Pro-life. These are labels invented to make each side sound better. I reject them. My official stance on abortion is as follows:

I am anti-murder.

Each abortion is a murder. You can argue biology at me all day long - it doesn't matter when it is done, if you abort the child, you have murdered it.

Each abortion is the removal of a choice. The child's choice. Each time one is killed, that life is snuffed out before any choices can be made.

Each abortion is a statement of worth - the child has been judged not worthy of a chance at life. She, or he, has been judged less than human.

Each abortion is a tragedy. Each abortion stains our hands.

We are awash in the blood of the innocent. As we have always been.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Lying to myself

One of the most frequent lies I have told myself is the following: "I just can't write right now."

Yes, it's a lie. Oh, there are times when I literally can't write, because I am busy with something else that must be done. One can't write while sleeping, or while working, or while studying. But that is not when I tell myself this lie. It is when I am doing nothing that the lie comes.

The lie, of course, is in the word "can't." I am capable of writing whenever I have time and access to writing tools. I do not need 'inspiration' to put fingers to keyboard and create a story. It helps, certainly. Motivates, directs, and pushes. When I have an idea that needs to be written, it comes quickly, and easily.

But when that idea isn't there, it doesn't keep me from putting words on paper, or the screen. All that really keeps me from it is my own apathy, my own lethargy. Whenever I sit there just staring at my screen, wondering what to write, it is one of two scenarios: I want to write, but it is not coming easily; or I thought I wanted to write, but didn't, not really. In the latter scenario, doing something else is the usual response.

In the former ... "I can't write." Such a sham. And yet I have gone months, believing this lie, not writing, looking for 'inspiration,' for that 'spark' that'll fix the block. And then when I finally just buckle down and do it, I wonder what took me so blasted long. And the sneaky thing? I can't tell a real difference in quality between when I was inspired, and when I just did it. And in these cases? I never do find that 'spark,' never get that whisper of muse.

So, me. Stop lying to me. Stop believing the lie.