The dark lies…

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Dark lies are often covered by ignorant minds and, in some ways, I might define this as a lack of agency, where people ordinarily make their own choices and act independently. 

A sense of agency is essential for you to feel in control of your life, to believe in your own capacity to influence your thoughts and behavior.  To have faith in your ability to handle situations or a wide range of tasks.  Any structure involved tends to be factors of influence such as social class, gender, religion, ethnicity, customs, etc., that both determine or limit agents and their decisions.

Our world has been living in somewhat of a state of conjecture, for some time now.  And yes, the underlying factor with this situation has been COVID and its overwhelming impact on society.  Endless questions surrounding how, when and if this virus will end along with the vaccines in place that may, or may not, be the solution.  People are either flocking to stand in lines for inoculations or adamantly refusing to receive them.  Opposing sides stare at each other, half behind their masks, the other without, while the darkness of this virus situation continues to be instrumented, more by opinions than pertinent facts, most coming from both our government and medical communities.   

 

Definitely a lack of agency and a reminder that it’s not fate that dooms men, but instead their own failings.

 

 

workshop-button-1From Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop…Write a blog post inspired by the word: dark

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Long ago, far away

 

The United States entered World War II in 1941, this song became popular three years after, in 1944.  It conjures up so many thoughts about those who reunited after their loved one returned from the battlefronts.  They were the lucky ones, so many did not.  Sad and lovely in so many ways.

My late mother often performed this Jo Stafford favorite at a local USO facility in our hometown.  She had a lovely voice and even sang on a radio show broadcast from the Roger Smith Hotel in White Plains, New York.  I’ve often wondered how far her singing might have taken her had the war not taken her in a different direction.  A twisted path and difficult  marriage that produced a child caught in the constant warfare between two unhappy people.

In many ways, she was no different than others who find themselves wondering and wishing for something better.  Somehow, we all end up just where we are supposed to be, despite those unfulfilled dreams of long ago and far away.

 

workshop-button-1From Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop…Write a blog post inspired by the word: far

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Term of affection…

pinky2

 

She always called me “Pinky”, well into my adult years.  That label of affection was far better than the one bestowed on me by my father who called me “Doc”. 

“Doc”?  Certainly not a nickname for a girl, in fact, hearing it always made me cringe.  WTF was he thinking?

But, back to Pinky and my late Aunt Eleanor, my mother’s only sister and someone I was always close with growing up.  She got me and was in my corner during my difficult childhood.  Aunt El gave me that name because I was always, always, dressed in pink as a baby.  Back in the day, children were outfitted in very basic, even subdued, colors…pink, blue, maize, soft green and white.  In present times, baby and toddler clothing HAS to make a fashion statement and, of course, focus on being gender-neutral in many cases.  And, I won’t even get into the baby photo trend where infants are stuffed into some pretty garish theatrical props for their early pictures.

garish

 

Whatever.  I was Pinky and that favorite aunt was the only one who ever called me that until the day she left this troubled earth.  And, for some reason, I despise this color. Probably the last photograph ever taken of me wearing pink was from my senior prom.

NRHS Senior Prom-1964

I burned that dress but…still have the shoes.

 

workshop-button-1From Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop…Write about a nickname you were given at some point.

I realized, after I hit “publish” that I could have combined two prompts with this one.  Obviously, what I wrote was about a nickname but, there is also a mistake I could have shared and…I wasn’t a child when I made it.  Said “mistake” is in my prom photo but, what resulted in that particular situation was something/someone to be very thankful for.  Enough said.

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