Opinion/Musings

Screw Political Correctness

/ Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 4 Comments

For me as a new writer, I love seeing my words in print. The endless learning process of how to structure a sentence properly, and tweak the grammar to near perfection, while annoying at times, nevertheless, has proven to be one the of simplest aspects of writing skills I’ve undertaken this past year.

The most difficult thing for me, about what it takes to be a writer, by far, has been and continues to be, silencing the ‘political correctness critic’ sitting on my shoulder, or perhaps, the ones surrounding me in my daily life.

The well-meaning spouse, sibling, friend, co-worker, employer, clergyman, community leader, or any of the sundry others who may read something I’ve written and react with a word of caution, a raised eye-brow, rhetoric, invoke ‘tolerance’, quilt, or sometimes down right tell you “I don’t think you should…” Think how that sounds… What would people think…say, or react?”

I find myself after writing an honest and powerful piece, second guessing myself and going back, tampering with what I’ve written, changing the tone, or the language to be more acceptable. I see their discomfort, a cringe, reaction, an intake of  breath,  or widening of the eyes, and through my inexperience, I let them manipulate me to change my words, to cow-tow to political correctness, to sooth their ruffled feathers.

But, here’s the thing …

I may be new at writing, a neophyte, inexperienced in the craft, but this I know for sure: If I am ever to be successful as a writer, especially in my eyes, my words must be authentic. Writing should evoke emotions. Sometimes the emotions will run the gamut from good, to bad, ecstatic to horror. Real life is much the same way.

There will be times my writing runs the gamut from good to bad to excellent (my prayer), but one thing I promise from this post onward, my words will be authentic, like it or not.

So, screw political correctness.

Suck it Up Bluebell

/ Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / Leave a comment

Okay, so my Doctor told me to get a personal trainer. He said I was losing muscle strength, and training would help alleviate my pain and aid in mobility.

In other words, I might be able to move without looking and sounding like my dead, great-grandmother! I sat on the table, contemplating kicking him in the shin, as soon as I  garnered the strength, when he handed me  a physician’s order for physical therapy, and exited the room. Guess he could tell I wasn’t pleased with his assessment.

Did I look that terrible? Seriously?  Whatever, I decided to play his game,  maybe it would help. As I put my clothes back on, I checked myself out in the mirror and warmed to the idea. I pictured myself in sleek black, workout clothes, fit and trim. Perhaps  I could get in shape, redefine my muscles, and become a new, sexy, late middle-age woman! Hell, anything was possible. I pumped myself. I could do this and by Christmas, I’d  sashay across the room, instead of amble with a limp.

With the doctor’s order in hand, I promptly hired a personal trainer and, n-o-o not just any old trainer. Nope, I hired an ex-military, bronze star, triathlete to whip me into shape. And, his favorite saying?  “Suck it up bluebell.” Want to guess who bluebell is?

In the first few days of training, I discovered the following truths.

  1. You CAN walk 3 miles, short of breath and not lose consciousness.
  2. Balancing on all fours atop a gigantic blue rubber ball is not for the faint of heart, and  almost impossible to do.
  3. There are more ways to do sit-ups than you imagined, and I got to do them all!
  4. A peak heart rate of 160 bpm is okay! You truly aren’t dying of  a heart attack!
  5. That gasping whale sound you hear is coming from you – it will get better.
  6. The  tomato-red color  your face turns during workouts does fade to normal; it just takes a few hours.
  7. And last but not least, personal trainers send you home with a written plan, for your  days off,  and spy on you to make sure you’re following through. Did I mention he was ex-military?

I survived my first couple of days, barely. And, I’m so excited, up next on the  training agenda – kayaking! Does it matter to him if I’m not a strong swimmer, afraid of rolling over in the kayak and drowning, or  can’t bear 37 degrees outside? Nope!

I hear him loud and clear.  “Suck it up bluebell.”

I Hate Texting

/ Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 2 Comments

I hate texting.

Our society is going to Hell in a hand basket because we are losing the ability to communicate. Apparently, this generation finds typing on a tiny keyboard, while doing any and everything, easier than actually talking to another person. Emotive’s and acronyms attempt to replace the tone of one’s voice, the expression on your face or excitement of the moment.  You almost need a texting dictionary on hand to understand the language! And then people wonder why their text was misunderstood or why they’re so easily ignored. Forget someone, especially your children actually picking up the phone when you call, anymore! Oh, no, you leave a message and later, you get a text. “You called”?

Emotive’s and acronyms attempt to replace the tone of one’s voice, the expression on your face or excitement of the moment.  You almost need a texting dictionary on hand to understand the language! And then people wonder why their text was misunderstood or why they’re so easily ignored. Forget someone, especially your children actually picking up the phone when you call, anymore! Oh, no, you leave a message and later, you get a text. “You called”?

Men have forgotten how to be men;  instead, believing texting a young woman, and asking her to hang out is the same as calling a few days in advance asking for the privilege of taking her out on a date.  Young women accept that behavior because they, also, have forgotten how to converse across the dinner table.

It is easy to disregard, ignore and delete people from your life with texting. A few short answers, a quip, a few acronyms, a few push of the buttons and you’re done. You don’t have to deal with anything you don’t want to deal with, see people you don’t want to see, even your favorite TV shows aren’t interrupted, all with no effort.

Picking up the phone or sitting down across the table requires effort,  a connection, respect for others and manners. Talking requires you listen, look people in the eye, feel the tension, excitement, love,  fireworks, cold or warmth flowing between two people.

To think our society would rather engage in conversation in this manner rather than hearing the sound of our voices, whether it is laughter, anger, or tears and know we aren’t alone in this world, makes me sad. Seriously?   People!

FTLOG!

Pick up the damn phone and have a real conversation for a change.