Becket and More

Carrie Fisher? Really 2016? I may be figuring out who and what I am and what I want to do, but I know for sure one of those things is to be an awesome, smart, funny writer and advocate like her .

I turned 43 recently, and over the past couple of years I've realized a couple of things about myself that just are. They're just part of the fabric of my personality and they're not going to change. I am a very messy person except where my closet space is concerned. I have never really liked any kind of beef stew, however many different ways I try to make it. I am an extremely angry person. I say the last with no particular pride or shame--it just is. It can be somewhat daunting to realize that one would be better placed in the Red Lantern Corps rather than the Green Lanterns, or even the Blue. But it's just kind of there. And while I've had an interesting relationship with anger my entire life, I've been circling it a little more closely lately. Anger has been a good friend to me. It has given me energy and purpose when I could otherwise find none. Anger has also been an obsession, impeding my progress and tainting relationships. The tric

Day 2 of the Resistance was kind of underwhelming.  My usual rage was hijacked by the flexeril I'm taking for a spasming back. I have continued, however, to post pictures and stories of newly emboldened misogynists and racists on my Facebook feed.  I want every person who voted to Trump, Stein, or Johnson to know exac tly what they've done. That even if that man said those things to get attention, people took him seriously. That this is what third-party voters' special snowflake principles helped to bring about. Swastikas are popular, as is groping. An entire kindergarten chanted, "Build that wall!" Homophobic graffiti abounds. African-Americans have been threatened at gunpoint. Jesus Christ, there have been suicides , both of transgender people and people who have lost hope regarding their health care and figured they might as well end their lives sooner than later. DO YOU GET IT, YET? Lives have been utterly destroyed, and he hasn't even been sworn into o

So, yeah. That happened. That person is now President of the United States. I'm still not entirely sure I'm not giving up on the shit show[1] that the American Experiment has become. I continue to reserve that right, but I know for sure that in the meantime I have to speak up. Loudly. Often. So, *spreads arms* here I am. And I am angry. Furious. Wrothful. I am at the end of my rope with many of my fellow Americans, and, like the man said, I'm not going to take it anymore. Appropriately enough, I turn 43 in 41 minutes, and my main resolution for this upcoming trip around the sun is to stand up and fight:  the patriarchy, racism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia... At this point, if you name it and it marginalizes a group, I'll take a swing at it. I do not anticipate this being difficult, as I have run out of fucks to give[2]. I have named this blog for my two favorite historical shit-kickers, St. Thomas Becket and St. Thomas More. Both spoke truth to power. Both f