I am Not a Pigeon

I hate taking to the internet when angry. It rarely results in anything productive. But from sources foreign and domestic I feel like I am being told who I am. As a writer, as a person, as mom, as a woman. Maybe it's just time for an internet hiatus, there are too many messages running about the interwebs whose only intent is to tell others where they should be standing. 

I think this blog post (minus some of the cursing, except for the excerpt beneath the Shakespeare pic, which is just too hilarious) from author Larry Correia sums up my current feelings both on the NYTimes article in question, but to anyone who thinks my personal affiliation with any group gives them the right to tell me who I am. I am a woman,daughter, sister, wife, mother, writer, teacher, missionary, friend, Mormon, libertarian, food enthusiast, ANWA member, white, Arizonan, high school graduate, and none of that means beans when it comes to my potential as a human being. 

It also does not mean that I have to agree with every sentiment expressed by every other member of that group, or even any other member of that group. 

I guess one of the blessings/curses of being able to connect to hordes of folks in a matter of clicks is we often think it gives us some kind of insight. We think we know this or that person, or the groups to which they feel comfortable belonging. It allows access to groups we normally wouldn't know anything about, while simultaneously convincing us that all we need to know about any group is a few quotes from people on Facebook.

Maybe I'm worn out from finishing this novel while raising my babies, helping my hubby go gluten-free, and generally juggling about a million different balls at once, but I don't think I can take much more of others telling me the size and shape of the box into which I fit. You don't know which hole I fit into, because I am not a pigeon. 

*I didn't proof read this, try not to judge.