The "Information Superhighway" is one of the names we once gave the Internet and World Wide Web.
Lately, I've been thinking about the trash, litter and abandoned rusty vehicles we've been leaving behind.
I need to clean up the old Livejournal, MySpace, and started-then-abandoned blogs, email entities and web pages that I've left behind.
There are links to functions that I no longer have, positions that I no longer have- jobs I have grown out of or out grown.
It's still out there. Litter and clutter.
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Saturday, June 22, 2013
Adventures in baking
On the last night of The Good Person of Szechuan, I presented Director's Awards for Excellence in Ensemble.
I wanted to recognize and celebrate the helpful, generous and dedicated members of the company that contributed to ensemble- that magic that takes a group of disparate individuals and makes us and our project greater as a whole than the sum of our individual parts.
The winners would be recognized with our words of appreciation and a special date with the director (me).
And a cheesecake. That I would make for them.
We closed the show, and the actors finished out the school year and I went to the auditions for my next round of shows.
Then the time came for dates and cheesecakes.
We checked our calendars and I made my plans to make the cheesecakes. I had it all scheduled tightly.
I was on track to get the cheesecakes done with time to chill (the cheesecakes and I would both have time to chill) before picking up my actors - when disaster struck.
My beater blade broke midway through the second of three cheesecakes. Yikes!
I wanted to recognize and celebrate the helpful, generous and dedicated members of the company that contributed to ensemble- that magic that takes a group of disparate individuals and makes us and our project greater as a whole than the sum of our individual parts.
The winners would be recognized with our words of appreciation and a special date with the director (me).
And a cheesecake. That I would make for them.
We closed the show, and the actors finished out the school year and I went to the auditions for my next round of shows.
Then the time came for dates and cheesecakes.
We checked our calendars and I made my plans to make the cheesecakes. I had it all scheduled tightly.
I was on track to get the cheesecakes done with time to chill (the cheesecakes and I would both have time to chill) before picking up my actors - when disaster struck.
My beater blade broke midway through the second of three cheesecakes. Yikes!
Below: Bad Broken Beaters
Now I have gone from having plenty of time to chill to not having time or tools to finish cheesecakes!
Fortunately, I had a back up mixer- the one I use for Passover- in the basement. So I fetched that from the basement.
Guess what? That mixer is so ancient that it struggles and moans and emits I-am-a-motor-straining smells.
BUT I finish the cheesecakes. Not much chill time for me or the cheesecakes, but it is done!
On my way home from my director date (and first round of cheesecake deliveries), I stopped at the store.
And bought a new mixer.
The N word
I can't say it. I'm a white woman of a certain age, raised in a certain place, in a certain era, and I can't say that word.
The following incident happened with a group of teens that I'd been working with a few summers ago. In the teen theater troupe I was directing, we have occasionally had Hispanic or Black youth as participants, but only occasionally. There were no youth of color in our troupe at the time of this incident.
During this particular summer, an incident occurred. Not during rehearsal, thank goodness, but after, when some of the teen boys were hanging out being cool together.
So, imagine three guys, 14 or 15 years old, hanging out.
Chillin'.
Three white, suburban boys, who think they are gangsta.
So, they are hanging out, goofing around, yelling back and forth to each other outdoors in this public park.
Calling one another the N word.
I wasn't there (rehearsal was over, and I had headed home). The boys' moms were around, but not right near them ('cause that wouldn't have been cool).
And I might never have heard about the incident at all, except that-
As it happened, in this public park, there was a Black man and his child.
Who heard the boys- gave them a look- and took his child and got in his car and left.
Enough was observed by one of the moms so that she talked to her son and to the other moms who talked to their sons and then I heard about it. The moms told me about the incident, and asked me to talk to the boys, because I wasn't their mom, maybe they would hear me.
I tried to talk to the boys.
JE, I said, you aren't Black.
Yeah I am he said.
NO, I said, you're NOT, and that is not your word.
I don't think the boys ever "got" it.
I felt terribly disturbed, though. It still bothers me.
It makes me cringe and it makes me want to slap those privileged white boys upside the head.
Even being 15 doesn't excuse being ignorant, when people have first gently then firmly tried to point out the error of your ways.
Part of what disturbs me about this is the lack of understanding/appreciation of history.
The following incident happened with a group of teens that I'd been working with a few summers ago. In the teen theater troupe I was directing, we have occasionally had Hispanic or Black youth as participants, but only occasionally. There were no youth of color in our troupe at the time of this incident.
During this particular summer, an incident occurred. Not during rehearsal, thank goodness, but after, when some of the teen boys were hanging out being cool together.
So, imagine three guys, 14 or 15 years old, hanging out.
Chillin'.
Three white, suburban boys, who think they are gangsta.
So, they are hanging out, goofing around, yelling back and forth to each other outdoors in this public park.
Calling one another the N word.
I wasn't there (rehearsal was over, and I had headed home). The boys' moms were around, but not right near them ('cause that wouldn't have been cool).
And I might never have heard about the incident at all, except that-
As it happened, in this public park, there was a Black man and his child.
Who heard the boys- gave them a look- and took his child and got in his car and left.
Enough was observed by one of the moms so that she talked to her son and to the other moms who talked to their sons and then I heard about it. The moms told me about the incident, and asked me to talk to the boys, because I wasn't their mom, maybe they would hear me.
I tried to talk to the boys.
JE, I said, you aren't Black.
Yeah I am he said.
NO, I said, you're NOT, and that is not your word.
I don't think the boys ever "got" it.
I felt terribly disturbed, though. It still bothers me.
It makes me cringe and it makes me want to slap those privileged white boys upside the head.
Even being 15 doesn't excuse being ignorant, when people have first gently then firmly tried to point out the error of your ways.
Part of what disturbs me about this is the lack of understanding/appreciation of history.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Off to work
I am off to work this morning. I will be working in the finance office. There may not really be enough to keep me busy all day, so I will clock out when I am caught up.
When I clock out, I will turn to the blogs - because I have many exciting topics on the horizon.
Note added much later: I never did return to the blog that day, did I?
When I clock out, I will turn to the blogs - because I have many exciting topics on the horizon.
Note added much later: I never did return to the blog that day, did I?
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Why I don't (currently) donate to my universities
I am a graduate of two universities- one for undergrad and one for my graduate work. I have donated to both universities in the past. Sometimes, in spite of appeals, I have not donated, due to lack of funds.
Currently, I am receiving plenty of appeals for donations from both universities. Currently, I could afford to donate something- maybe not the "suggested donation" level, but something. Currently, I am not donating. Here are the reasons:
My undergraduate alma mater cannot spell my name right. This in spite of the fact that on my donations in the past, I either received a correct spelling- or, I corrected the spelling the first time or two I received the mailing with the incorrect spelling. After correcting my name several times, I thought, forget it. Why should I keep making the same correction over and over? No one cares enough to note the correction. Simple follow up would have helped their cause- by a lot. And now, they are mailing to the wrong address. My mom's address. An address at which I have never resided.
So, no. Taking a break from that one.
My graduate alma mater is also mailing to my mom's address. This one I have even corrected IN PERSON because I was (under) employed there at the time. Still, the appeals for donations (AND my W-2 form) keep going to my mom's address. That's not the only reason I'm not donating to this university, though.
For a variety of reasons, I am not currently employed at the university. And though I have some mixed feelings about not working there currrently, my lack of employment is not the reason I don't donate.
Here's the possibly-petty-but-most-galling for-me reason: I worked my butt off to get my PhD from this university. That's how I got on their lists of people-to-ask-for-money.
They do not refer to me as Dr. LHK. Or LHK, PhD. Not in their requests for money. Not in their cheery alumni updates (when they also make clear they'd be happy to receive money).
Not even- most painfully- when I was listed in the theater programs for the season as adjunct professor (finally! after having worked for years!) WITHOUT the title. All the other PhDs were listed as "Dr. So-and-so." But not me.
Really?
So maybe I'm petty. But it bothers me.
Currently, I am receiving plenty of appeals for donations from both universities. Currently, I could afford to donate something- maybe not the "suggested donation" level, but something. Currently, I am not donating. Here are the reasons:
My undergraduate alma mater cannot spell my name right. This in spite of the fact that on my donations in the past, I either received a correct spelling- or, I corrected the spelling the first time or two I received the mailing with the incorrect spelling. After correcting my name several times, I thought, forget it. Why should I keep making the same correction over and over? No one cares enough to note the correction. Simple follow up would have helped their cause- by a lot. And now, they are mailing to the wrong address. My mom's address. An address at which I have never resided.
So, no. Taking a break from that one.
My graduate alma mater is also mailing to my mom's address. This one I have even corrected IN PERSON because I was (under) employed there at the time. Still, the appeals for donations (AND my W-2 form) keep going to my mom's address. That's not the only reason I'm not donating to this university, though.
For a variety of reasons, I am not currently employed at the university. And though I have some mixed feelings about not working there currrently, my lack of employment is not the reason I don't donate.
Here's the possibly-petty-but-most-galling for-me reason: I worked my butt off to get my PhD from this university. That's how I got on their lists of people-to-ask-for-money.
They do not refer to me as Dr. LHK. Or LHK, PhD. Not in their requests for money. Not in their cheery alumni updates (when they also make clear they'd be happy to receive money).
Not even- most painfully- when I was listed in the theater programs for the season as adjunct professor (finally! after having worked for years!) WITHOUT the title. All the other PhDs were listed as "Dr. So-and-so." But not me.
Really?
So maybe I'm petty. But it bothers me.
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