muddied thoughts has moved here! I’ll be posting daily! Spread the word~
Hey guys! Sorry I’ve been off so long. I went on a cruise, I finished up my summer homework, actual school started… fun, exciting, time-consuming stuff like that. I can’t guarantee routine posting, but I will make an effort to give y’all something here and there.
As for today, well, it’s a bit of a political rant (and unfiltered too!). But do hear me out. I’d say this is really quite high on the importance scale.
Last Sunday on Meet the Press, Ben Carson essentially stated that a Muslim president would be incompatible with the Constitution. Upon hearing that, I ran to find my copy of the Constitution and searched through it until I stumbled across Article Six:
The Senators and Representatives before mentioned, and the members of the several state legislatures, and all executive and judicial officers, both of the United States and of the several states, shall be bound by oath or affirmation, to support this Constitution; but no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under the United States.
So Carson’s logic is void. The only thing incompatible with the Constitution is his belief that practice of Islam equates to legal illegitimacy as president. What more is there to say? Carson is wrong, and the support for that argument lies in the Constitution itself. Fact-check that.
You know what? If you don’t think Candidate X should be POTUS on the grounds of his or her religion, that’s 100% okay. You’ll find that there are people who disagree with you, but newsflash! It’s your own opinion, and you’re entitled to it. You’re also entitled to publicly expressing it in a manner that does not harm others, and the Constitution is to thank. Any repercussions of doing so, however, will be your responsibility. Expect much backlash.
Saying that Candidate X shouldn’t be POTUS due to their faith because that’s against the Constitution is another story. What once was in the realm of opinion has been brought into the land of fact. Opinions are wishy-washy and subject to change. Facts, however, are absolute. There is no right or wrong to an opinion. Only from a particular paradigm or a specific viewpoint, one can decipher the balance between good and bad. Facts? There’s a right, and there’s also a very, very wrong.
Please do consider the above. And don’t hastily, wholeheartedly accept everything that’s thrown your way. Analyze things for yourself. Research. Be a critical thinker. Heck, critically think about this very blogpost!
I guess I’m a little salty after a conversation with a certain person who got mad at me for “being too politically correct” and denying “the fact that America is founded on Christianity”. (When I disagreed with the latter argument, said person shot back at me with a “so you think it’s founded on Islam?!!”. Ha.) I personally think that being politically correct and correcting legal misinformation are two separate things.
Overall, what an ironic situation.
Love you all. See you soon.
Many, many ages ago, there was a stone mountain in the southern corner of Ireland shaped in a peculiar heart formation. One particularly electric night, a bolt of lightning shot off a large boulder and sent it flying down to the field below. It stayed there for countless centuries, and lent shade to many a lovers’ picnic.
But destiny would not have it. For a vicious storm passed and another fateful lightning bolt struck, and suddenly, that absolute monolith was split into two.
At first, the divided boulder mourned its separation. But as time passed, the two stones grew so accustomed to their new positions that it appeared as if they had never been one stone at all. That, one may argue, was the greatest tragedy of the stone mountain.
Word count: 130. For a flash fiction challenge. Well, I tried.
wishes of luck don’t
keep us safe and sound in life
we can only hope
(Wishes of luck don’t keep us safe and sound in life.
“Keep us safe and sound in life”, we can only hope.)
Bit of a late submission for the Weekly Haiku. I had some trouble with this one, but I managed. Somehow.
The team employed the use of Nightshade to get the information they wanted from their captive.
With poisonous extractions from nightshade foliage combined with an assortment of other unfriendly matter, the team transplanted the mix into a tube of rose DNA and created the Nightshade- a deathly white flower whose scent proved fatal to those exposed to it for more than five days. The symptoms were horrible, painful to observe, and the deaths were always consistently slow and dragged out. Most prisoners relented information under the false hope that they’d receive an antidote. Even more deadly, it seemed, than the Nightshade itself were its administers. They were young adults with trademark snowy hair, pale skin, and translucent irises, who had all developed resistance to the poisonous plant due to staggered exposure since birth. They were known to be silent killers, but as current captive Nikolai Reminovsky knew to be true, they were all still human.
Word count: 139. For Monday’s Finish-the-Story. I guess this one wasn’t much a story than a bunch of setting vomit, but ah well.
this room of only just the two of us
i don’t recall
this room so vast and spacious
this emptiness inside the towering walls
do not blame me for the curtains that have fallen
from the ceiling to the ground
breaking up our room after you sneaked
inside another inhabitant
Back after a two-week hiatus to drop in my submission for Poetry 101 Rehab (the prompt was “partitions“). My writing’s a little rusty, but I trust I’ll pick it right back up.
“Emma, can’t you come bowling with us?”
“Sorry, but I’m broke.”
“I bought a selfie stick.”
“It was surprisingly more expensive than I had expected.”
“Oh, it wasn’t for me.”
“Does your dad know?”
“He does now. Dad loves his new selfie stick.”
For the 5o-word story challenges. “Selfie stick” was the one I attempted today. And failed, because that was just a bunch of dialogue, and not at all a story. Blargh.
She was a dancer from Brooklyn- poised, heart-faced, and graced with long legs. She performed in competitions and shows and won ribbon after medal after trophy.
“She’ll make it big,” the critics raved.
“She’s already big,” the crowd roared.
Then the dancer from Brooklyn retired in seclusion, preferring quieter things.
While this one wasn’t as good, I’d say it’s more a “story” than a “moment”, so that’s improvement, eh? For the 50-word story challenge found here. The prompt was “grace”.
Billy was simply furious. As a pro cowboy, said man ought to sit upon big animals and do tricks. I will not purify any stalls again, as long as I am living, Billy thought angrily. I am so sick of bull poop. I did not sign up for this gross insanity. Unsurprisingly, a particular cowboy quit his job.
Rules copy-pasted off the original post:
1) Write a whole paragraph ( a paragraph sounds easy right?) without any word containing the letter “e” (still easy for ya?)
2) By reading this you are already signed up.
3) Challenge at least five bloggers to do the challenge. They must do it within 24 hours or it is considered as failure.
4) If you fail or pass, suffer in the Page of Lame.
5) If you win, wallow in the Page of Fame.
And it seems I won! *does a mini-dance in the Page of Fame simply because I can* This challenge was surprisingly hard! Gosh, I don’t know what I’d do without the letter “e”… Although I’m going to be a rebel here and not follow rule #3. Simply put, if you are reading this, you are already tagged. 🙂
I was trapped in a labyrinth, and the memories crawling behind me forced me into an intersection. The left and right hallways were dimly lit, yet unsure. There was also the option to go straight, but the path declined into darkness. The mind was a difficult place to escape from.
Oh whoop-de-doo, look who wrote a moment instead of a story! At least I’m improving… I hope. One of (many to come) 50-word stories.