I have been neglecting this blog again. I doubt anyone besides my mom has noticed. Still, I figured it’s about time I get into the rhythm of things again.
I’ll be redesigning the website at some point, and there’s not much point in doing that without new content.
So what have I been up to? A lot.
Symbols have power. I won’t deny that. But removing a nail doesn’t remove the hole. Filling holes, healing wounds, takes more time and effort.
Still, after yet another terrible mass shooting, we search for a quick fix– a bandaid we can slap on to make people feel better.
So we call for a flag to be removed from a government building. We suggest roads be renamed and that we relegate Confederate leaders to the trash heap of history. Our leaders hear us. They join the cause. Because they believe it’s the right thing to do and because it lets them off easy.
We’re not asking for dialogue. We’re not asking for reform. We’re not asking for frank conversations.
We’re asking for a piece of fabric to be moved.
I just learned today that the Girl Scout camps I went to as a child are being sold. Camp Tohikanee has been shut down for a while–so long that the grass is nearly a foot high by the dining hall. Camp Tweedale held its last flag ceremony this past weekend.
There were songs sung, games played, and adventures had in the night. There were fires, s’mores, banana boats, and a grill cheese sandwich fire that forced the counselors to order out for pizza. There were letters written, crafts made, and early morning icy-cold polar bear swims.
There were pranks. Oh boy were there pranks.
I spent my entire academic career on the Honors track. Aside from math, which seems to be the one subject my brain processes at the speed of paint drying, I took the Honors and AP courses available in every subject. Yet I never really thought of the implications of separating out the smart kids until I read this editorial by Judy Jones.
The advantage of Honors courses was we could drive dragsters while everyone else puttered about in sedans. We could blow through material faster than the regular classes. When teachers knew everyone in the class could absorb material quickly, they could cover more ground and still fit in time for the students to explore their own interests.
At the same time, I recall being in those classes with a lot of the same people. The “gifted” students stuck together because, let’s admit it, it’s very fun to hang out with people who are at the same geek level you are. It’s great to be able to crack jokes about math or physics and have people laugh so hard that soda rockets out of their nose. Everyone else would just give you a look that asked “so what Star Trek dimension are you from?”
But that environment doesn’t reflect the working world.
I just turned thirty. I’m single, female, and have no kids. A generation ago, folks would have slapped me with the “old maid” label and made tart comments about how empty my house must feel without a husband and children crammed into it.
But I live in a time when I can tell anyone who tries that bullshit to stuff it right back in the hole it came out of. The only “Old Maid” I intend to associate myself with is the card game.
There’s no point in freelancing unless you take advantage of some of the perks.
So when it was freezing, rainy, and miserable in Chapel Hill yesterday, I headed to Wilmington. Not only was it twenty degrees warmer in Wilmington, but my friend and teacher Matt White opened for Orlando Jones at TheatreNOW.