I have three things to say about this week’s events, and then I’m going to hunker down in my writing cave.
1. Thank you to the students of Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School.
To the young adults marching for change, I say thank you. To the teenagers who saw what happened at Marjory Stoneman Douglas high school and said, “This is enough,” I am so grateful. These kids, Generation Z, are passionate. There have been school walk-outs and protests around the country. Not only that, but big donors to the NRA have begun withdrawing their money, hitting them where it hurts. Way to go, Gen X and Gen Y. You have raised a generation of woke people who are ready for change in the face of this government farce.
On a related note: As a former teacher, I don’t agree with teachers carrying guns. I can think of one teacher in particular who would have been chosen to carry, since he already has firearms experience as a hunter. The guy has a temper, and there’s no guarantee he wouldn’t draw on a student. What happens then? What kind of learning environment is that, when you know you have no voice in the classroom because your teacher has a gun in his boot? (On the other hand, WOW, this takes classroom discipline to a new level.)
2. I read an interesting article in The Guardian about the 80th anniversary of Rebecca.
Though I talked about it here, I didn’t expand on my thoughts on the book. I found myself agreeing with the article. I thought it was me, my eyes always finding an LGBTQ slant in my entertainment. I related to the second Mrs. de Winter. I have never felt particularly feminine, and anyone who asks me for my opinion, “as a woman,” makes me incredibly uncomfortable. There’s a reason my mom wanted me to read this book, in other words. I’m the child the unnamed narrator most reminded her of. (Love you, Mom!) The article made me want to watch the movie, to see for myself how Mrs. Danvers could inspire a generation of drag queens.
3. If you hate me, but you’re still talking about me: Bitch, you’re a fan.
I find it exhausting, the amount of gossip people spread when I’ve never had a conversation with them in real life. Hearsay spreads like wildfire. You thought I was going somewhere? I’m too busy proving you wrong.