Blind French Canadian student denied entry to English classes at university because his seeing-eye dog is strictly francophone?
I guess Saturday morning is as good a time as any to think about stuff like this. In between doing my weekly weekend writing splurge, watching the Royal Tannenbaums sometime later today, cleaning my flat at some indefinite point. I admit I spend a lot of time collecting seemingly pointless strange articles and facts, and marveling at the ridiculousness of our world, but it’s my entertainment from constant thinking about things like a comprehensive system of education that truly educates and empowers children.
Or the role of parents in nurturing their children, something I don’t think people take quite seriously enough.
Or how the entire world is basically organized in every way possible to keep Africa poor by instantly engulfing the extraordinary wealth it produces and return a piddly percentage of that wealth back to the starving looted continent, disguising it as charity and aid.
Or how do you effect social change so that these poisonous catch-22 cycles of economic colonialism are reversed? Micro-finance? Women’s literacy? Youth Empowerment?
Or how do you use your talent if it is writing to make any kind of difference? I mean, aren’t qualified scientists and economists or social innovators really the people that make a difference? And if so, how do I become one of them? Or how do I have the courage to make the difference I can by staying true to who I am?
Sometimes I need to think about my friend’s walk in Uganda, when a kid popped up with a piece of paper and told him to hold still for his photo. And then proceeded to make an origami camera, complete with shutter. Or I need to plunge and lose myself in a thick book of perfect fiction, like the Poisonwood Bible, something I can squeeze for instant meaning or wallow in literary beauty. I need a perfect film, once in a while, like my M & M’s five minute home video about their trip to Venice set to hauntingly beautiful opera music. Gliding gondolas in rainy grey waters, an exquisite short story about voyage, where you bob along canals as the basilicas cloud over, and your eyes rest on beauty and the story of finding yourself.
So that’s why I’m all over the place, and more specifically, that’s why I’m here so often. Sometimes I just need to talk, because if I keep it all in, I feel like I’m going nuts.
And I love to hear from you, so keep commenting. It makes me feel less crazy for talking to myself… talking to myself.