Why I'm Anti-Equality: An Essay

       The idea that "all men are created equal" has been part of our nation since its creation, and on the surface it sounds like a wonderful doctrine that would benefit everyone if properly implemented. However, the idea of equality does not take into account the fact that humans are diverse in infinitely many ways. A pair of shoes might help a barefoot man, but they wouldn't help a man who already has shoes but needs a coat. Surely, it's more important to make sure everyone gets what they need than to make sure everyone gets the same thing? The idea of equity is that everyone gets treated justly and fairly, but what is fair is not always "equal" or identical.
       Picture people standing at a ball game, right in front of a wall that separates them from the players on the field. There's a tall person, a medium person and a short person, and there are three blocks they can stand on to see over the wall. Equality would mean each person gets one block, even if the tall person doesn't need it to see over the fence, and the short person can't see, even with the block. The goal I propose instead is equity, which is defined as fairness or justice in a way that doesn't have to be uniform. Equity would mean that the tall person doesn't get a block, the medium person gets one, and the short person gets two. It's not "equal," but they can all see over the fence now. That should be our goal as a nation, to make sure that everyone gets to the point where they can see over the metaphorical fence, even if some people need more help than others to get there.

Dedication (Found this in my notes, unfinished. Don't know if I posted a finished version on the page I was dedicating?)

It isn't easy to write or draw on the first page of a notebook. Nor is it easy to dedicate a page.
Dot dot dot
Each and every one of you is more than you give yourself credit for. I dedicate this page to you.
DL - you wrote the series of books that brings us together, and this is your blog. It's only right for you to be in the dedication.
I'll stick with the initials thing. I like how it looks. JG - my arch-nemesis, this page is for you as well, because I am such a nice person. Jk, you're actually really cool, and even when I am attacking you with a light saber or with my dinosaur form, you're still one of my best friends. I guess that says something about me... Too bad.
Certainly, I have to include SI - oh hey, like SI units! You have a really cool brain and I like hearing you talk about random things you find interesting. I need to finish that book you keep talking about, btw.
Agatha Christie gets part of the ded even though she isn't a Bloglandian because I was thinking about books, and I've read a lot of hers this year and quite enjoyed them.
Truth is, there are so many people on this blog I want to dedicate to, and I have nowhere near enough patience.
Each and every one of you has impacted my life, some of you have majorly impacted my life. Tbh, though, just dedicating to "everyone" feels a bit boring..
Hmm...
I dedicate this page to words on a page. Because they're really important. In a sense, that's all most of us are to each other. I mean, there are plenty of you who I've either video chatted with or seen pictures of, and I associate profile pictures with people even if they aren't pictures of people, but you're all mostly words on a page.
Sometimes words on a page can make you laugh, other times they make you cry. They're abstractions of objects, ideas, people. They're feelings, stories. I also dedicate this page
Page, with words on it, to...
AB, AD, AM, AT, AS, CA, CC, CD, CG, CT, DM, DP, DR, DS, DT, EB, EF, EM, EtR, ET, EZ (whose name is in all caps to blend with the initials. :-P) FO, FP, HB, HS, H, IL-S, KL KP, KAS KX, LH, LS, LN, LL, MH, MC, MLC, MBT, MF, MS, MFH, MH, NC, NR, NS, NJ, NA, OA, PG, PM, R, RN, RS, RB, SS, SI, SN, ST, SR, SP, SO, SB, TD, TBC, T, TO, TC, V, VV, WS, WV, ZK, ZM. (I included each combination once, so for example, Snow Stormberg and September Silver are both really awesome, and this page is dedicated to both, but I'm only listing SS once because it's just easier that way.)
Guys, do any of you remember my name project? Well I'm dismantling it and transferring it to a roll of paper with more space, so if any of you want to change anything about your names as listed on the project, now's your chance. And if you've talked to me about it, talk to me again, I've probably forgotten. I did make most of the names before going by your given name on the blog was a thing, so... Keep that in mind I guess? Anyway, back to the ded.
Every one of you has had some sort of impact on my life. I'll remember you, and I dedicate this page to you.

I wrote this a while ago, but I don't know if I actually posted it anywhere

The pigeon landed on Hannah's gloved hand. She removed the tiny band around its ankle, fed it a crust of bread and then set it free. She hated caging pigeons, even for the few minutes it would take to scribble down a reply. They were better off free, just like she was.

Hannah unrolled the slip of paper and quickly decoded it.

SERVANT'S SITTING ROOM IN USE
FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM NOW
PLEASE COME HOME
A

It was just as well, then, that she hadn't kept the pigeon for a reply. She wasn't ready to go home yet, and she couldn't explain why, not via pigeon.

"Nolan!" she called. "Adjust the sails to catch that wind. We're headed out to sea."

*****

The crew was rather an odd one. Benjamin was the only one who looked like a pirate. He was rather old, had a peg leg, and was missing a few teeth. Out of all of them, however, he was the least pirate-like and, rather than raiding and pillaging, preferred to sit in his cabin and knit or tell hyperbolic stories about his own bravery. Hannah wasn't really sure why they kept him around, but she couldn't think of a good enough reason to get rid of him, either.

Nolan was the good-looking one of the bunch. Hannah still was uncertain how he could climb down from the rigging without one curly brown hair out of place. Nolan was theoretically the captain, but he wasn't especially fond of talking or doing anything interesting, whereas Hannah actually had plans and gave orders despite lacking any titled position.

Mary was Nolan's younger sister, though she'd sort of adopted the rest of them. She was one of the sweetest, kindest people Hannah had ever met, and her presence helped keep her sane. She had a habit of calming people down and was rather good at diffusing tension.

Ramona and Leonard were twins with slight Sensitive tendencies. Their talent wasn't something Hannah could quite classify as magic, exactly, but it was certainly unusual, and certainly came in handy. Ramona, like Hannah, generally dressed like a man.

Hamish was the Scottish one, and also the most bloodthirsty. Robert was the first mate, and the one who challenged Hannah's authority. Peter was the small one, and probably the youngest besides Mary (he refused to give his age). James was the cook.

They were happy, mostly. Nolan worried about his little sister, and the fact that she really wasn't getting a proper lady's education (Hannah and Ramona tried, on occasion, to remedy that, but neither was among the most lady-like of people). Robert and Hannah clashed, sometimes to the point where they wouldn't speak to each other for days, and Nolan and Mary tried to patch things up. Leonard twisted his ankle once, and Benjamin broke a knitting needle.

Then, of course, there were the raids and sea-battles and that sort of thing.

It was easy to forget sometimes...

When Hannah chose to lie to herself, that is.

*****

I wrote this a while ago and I think it's called Eileen, but I'm not sure

Fabi S. strides briskly down the sidewalk, the autumn wind making her nose turn bright pink. It seems to jump at any excuse to turn bright pink, she notes sourly, heat or cold, sun, rain or wind, various emotions...

Emotions.

They're extremely confusing and make everything needlessly difficult, yet where would she be without them? Who would she be without them?

Fabi turns and descends a flight of concrete steps, then stops at the Abbington Park & Ride, Bay 6. She stands absolutely still and avoids making eye contact with the various college students and business people around her.

After about half an hour, the bus pulls up. She scans her pass, then proceeds to one of the sideways-facing seats near the rear exit (her usual spot to sit). As she's putting her bus pass back in her wallet, a young, dark-haired woman sits next to her.

A whisper: "Hey, Audrey."

Only years of training cause her not to show how startled she is. She's gone back to her old look. Anyway, Audrey is dead. She glances around, looking for whoever the woman is speaking to.

"I can call you Mireille, if you'd prefer..." The woman's voice is even quieter than before.

The truth has always been one of her worst fears. Like usual, she runs.

"I'm sorry, are you talking to me? If so, you've got the wrong person."

The dark-haired woman shakes her head. "I'm sorry..."

Her apology clearly conveys that she knows. She's not sorry for her mistake. She knows it wasn't a mistake. She knows that Mireille Cavendish went on to become Audrey Nielsen. She might know about Fabi, too.

Fabi keeps her face calm, but as she speaks, her voice cracks. "It's...it's alright. I'm often mistaken for people. Aubrey's a new one, though." She forces out a laugh. "Usually I'm mistaken for someone called Katie. I guess I'm just sort of average-looking."

"If you say so."

No.

That's not how things work.

She's ordinary, boring. She blends into the background. She only leaves an impression on people who take the time to get to know her. People she's barely met don't do this.

She's on the outside, because that's the way it has to be.

She can't take it.

The bus stops, and she hurries to get off. She's so nervous, she completely misses the woman's hand brushing against the outside pocket of her purse.

She doesn't notice the note until later, much later, but by then it's too late, of course. Eileen exits the bus a few stops later, the tiny strip of paper now in the pocket of her jacket.

🌹

...

If any of you, ever again, tell me I don't care, I will hate you for about three and a half seconds and then probably cry a lot.

In case you were wondering.

Progress: a poem and a dedication

Once upon a time, there was a man or woman

That man or woman had an idea, a new perspective

It went against everything the "experts" took for granted

It was absolutely ingenious, and once he or she had spoken

It made sense

Deep in the back

Of the experts' minds

But it also contradicted

The reality they had spent

Most of their lives constructing

Rather than admit they were wrong

They decided to kill the man or woman

Hoping that somehow, the idea would die too

But of course it didn't. The truth would come out

Albeit decades, centuries after the man or woman died

Even if

It wasn't

That extreme

If they didn't kill

The forward-thinker

They would ridicule them

Rather than open their eyes

Is this what you call "progress?"

I dedicate this page to the new ideas

The ones we've found, the ones shot down

And all brilliant the ideas yet to be discovered

I dedicate this page to listening, not simply hearing

I dedicate this page to seeing the world with open eyes

I dedicate this page to all those people who feel like they're

Just sitting there quietly in the corner while the world moves on

To those people who are talking when the world doesn't want to hear

To everyone who's taken the time, found someone with a story and listened

I dedicate this page to the problems that are not always acknowledged

And to the few individuals who make efforts to find their solutions

I dedicate this page to those who haven't yet given up

Even though everything seems hopeless, futile

I dedicate this page to the people

Who are treated like problems

Waiting to be fixed

When they're

Perfect

I dedicate this page to the truth. We'll know it someday

I dedicate this page to the solution and the people

Who come closer and closer to finding it

I dedicate this page to the people

Who didn't make it to today

And to those who did

You can do it

I dedicate this page to making it through

I dedicate this page to the tunnel

But also to the light

At the end

Farther and

Words slide past her, not sinking in somehow
It was here once, that magic that's gone now
What does it take, she asks to be someone
What is still left after everything's done?

One, two, three, four
Somebody worth waiting for
Five, six, seven, eight
Then the waiter waits no more

Where did it go, that happiness she had?
Minutes ago, but it's transformed to

No

One, two, three, four
Somebody worth waiting for
Five, six, seven, eight
Then the waiter waits no more

It will be fine, she promises her friends
But the pot of gold where the rainbow ends
The more you run, the farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and

One, two, three, four
Now the waiter waits no more