I Heart Parkland

Facebook is exploding with posts about a lockdown drill at PLU. I haven't heard what happened to cause the lockdown, but naturally it was the cue for everyone to start stereotyping Parkland. Nothing offends me more, nothing makes my blood boil quicker, than these bigoted and closed-minded attacks on my beloved hometown.

I have lived in Parkland for nearly 20 years. Two decades, growing up in an area that is supposedly "the ghetto", and I have never been in a dangerous situation. I have never feared for my safety. I have never been a victim of any form of crime. I don't do anything special. I'm not lucky. I use common sense and intelligence. And ultimately, Parkland is just your standard urban community. There's crime, there's danger - but usually for people who cause it, who are in the wrong place. There aren't very many innocent bystanders involved.

So many students come to PLU from gated white communities or from small towns. A girl in my communication class freshman year explained that her hometown had one streetlight - and that was fairly new. That's not uncommon among the student body. In short, these students aren't used to reading about drug busts or shootings or bank robberies in their local news. Well kids, welcome to Pugetropolis, where the population is much greater, and much more diverse. You wouldn't let crime deter you from visiting New York or LA would you? There's far more crime in either of those places than in Tacoma, and certainly far more than Parkland.

Security at PLU is minimal compared to other universities; the reason is because it's not needed. The campus is so safe, the students have no clue what a protected little bubble it is that they live in.

When an incident happens near the campus, any school will take the precautionary measure of calling for a lockdown drill. This isn't because the students or the school are in imminent danger; it's because any school campus is a prominent destination and an obvious place to go hide. In the two (count them...only two) lockdowns I have experienced in my two decades in Parkland, there was no threat to the school. Both times, the incident was happening several blocks away and the school authorities simply decided to be cautious. Students were never in any danger.

The response that students have toward the local community is one born out of ignorance, misconceptions, and flat-out privileged bigotry. The entire world isn't the protective bubble or gated community that you grew up in. Just because an area is more urban and therefore is home to some of the lower ranks in society doesn't make that area - or it's entire population - "ghetto", "dangerous", or any of the other contemptuous stereotypes you wish to affix.

What appalls me is the fact that PLU as a whole perpetuates this stereotype, shutting itself off from Parkland, instead of embracing Parkland and working to improve the community. Sadly, it's not limited to only students. During my time as a student at PLU, I heard members of the faculty and staff make derogatory comments on the local area on numerous occasions. Any time I counter argued, or pointed out that I'm from there, the reply was always "well, you have to admit it's pretty bad."

No. I do not. Because the fact is, it isn't. I will admit Parkland isn't perfect. Of course it isn't. But is that any reason to condemn an area that I love? Of course not.

Parkland is a place where I could walk to school as a child; there's a neighborly aspect in play, where locals allow the children to cut through their yards as shortcuts to school, to friends' houses, to playfields. Parkland is a place that offers numerous activities to its youth, from the Spanaway-Parkland Youth Association sports leagues to the Sprinker Recreation Building.

Parkland is a place full of churches, full of families that have grown up together for generations. Parkland is a place full of daycares run out of homes, where the kids running around may be charges of the daycare, children of the owner, or friends. I had a safe, happy, and healthy childhood in the heart of Parkland.

It makes me sick to see the unofficial reaction PLU has anytime something occurs in Parkland (or Lakewood or Tacoma, for the matter. For some reason, Puyallup gets ignored). PLU was built in Parkland because it's a beautiful location. Parkland grew up around PLU. For decades, there was a sense of community, love, and support between the two. The growing rift takes several steps backward. PLU isn't any better than Parkland; Parkland helped make PLU. And any student who has the nerve to look down upon Parkland and her inhabitants is a much lower person than any member of the community.

Halloween

One year back in elementary school, I decided to be Princess Jasmine from Aladdin for Halloween. My mom made all of my costumes back then, so I had a one-of-a-kind Princess Jasmine outfit, much more accurate and interesting than any store-bought version. I loved the costume, and couldn't wait to wear it to go trick-or-treating around my grandparents' neighborhood. Princess Jasmine, it's well known, wore flowy pants and a bikini-style top, leaving her arms and midriff bare.

When the evening rolled around, however, my mom made me wear a light pink turtleneck underneath my costume. Mortified, I pointed out that Jasmine never had to wear a turtleneck under her outfit! Readily prepared for this exact protest, my mom responded that Princess Jasmine didn't live in Western Washington in October. Guess I had overlooked the fact that a middle-eastern princess isn't properly equipped for a crisp autumn evening in Tacoma, where temperatures average in the 50s or 60s.

Now, it's Halloween weekend in Savannah, and the past two days have seen 80 degree weather. Maybe if I had tried to go as Princess Jasmine over here, I would have been more successful.

As a side note, I have been numerous Disney princesses as a kid. I've been Snow White, Jasmine, Esmeralda, and Pocahontas. Notice how only one princess was white? And yet people like to argue that Disney isn't very diverse. Could have fooled me!

Bite Update!

Well, I've been treating my foot religiously for the last week, and it's clearing up slowly but surely. Guess that's all I've got to say about that (as Forrest Gump would say), on account of the fact that you probably don't want to read a description of my bug bite foot rash.

Speaking of Forrest Gump, I worked Saturday at the Lucas Theatre. We had no customers to speak of whatsoever, but one of the on-duty cops was hanging out with us at the concession stand talking about movies he's worked on the set of here in Savannah, including Forrest Gump. He said he was there the day they shot the feather scene - they spent hours just going up and down with the crane tracing the movement of the feather. When I got home that evening, guess what was showing on TBS? Yup, Forrest Gump.

The next day, I went to dinner with Margo, and we decided to take the duckies to Chippewa Square, where the bench scenes of Forrest Gump were filmed. So I got a nice picture of Chazz and Ginger waiting for the bus - there's no bench there, that was brought in for the movie. And no bus runs there; traffic actually runs the opposite direction, so the street had to be closed down for the movie.

This weekend is far less exciting; I'm spending it working on homework and preparing pieces to submit to the SCAD Art Museum for its grand reopening. I'll update on that piece of information later in the week.

Guide to Southern Bugs

When I first arrived in Savannah, I would regularly see these strange bugs all over the city. They hang out in pairs, and appear to attach to each other at the butt and then fly off together. I find them disgusting and creepy, and they have an annoying propensity to fly into peoples' faces, but somebody from Florida informed me (and another student from New Jersey who was commenting on the strange, gross bugs) that these are called Love Bugs. My initial reaction was along the lines of "really? Love bugs is a real thing?" and apparently, the answer is yes. I haven't seen them recently, which indicates that they probably are gone for the winter. Fine by me.

Then of course, there's chiggers, or mites. It's not an uncommon sight to watch tourists ooh and ahh over the Spanish moss hanging in the trees all over Savannah. One evening, I watched an elderly couple stop to admire the Spanish moss, even stuffing it into the lady's bag. According to Margo, an acquaintance I made thanks to her grandma's connection to PLU and Trinity, collecting Spanish moss in such a way is a surefire way to inflict a chigger problem upon oneself.

Savannah is also home to cockroaches, which I have never seen in person before, and some sort of large, hideously ugly beetle which I noticed one day outside the dorm. It was utterly repulsive, and I'm thankful I've only seen one such creature. I also frequently see dragon flies flittering about which I enjoy, as they always make me think of home. The dragon fly is, afterall, the state bug of Washington.

These bugs and I were happily coexisting until last Thursday, when I woke up with a bug bite on my foot. Coming from such a mild locale, where the worst thing we have to worry about are irritating mosquitoes or the occasional (harmless) spider bite, I initially considered the bite to be a simple annoyance and ignored it. I did look online for home remedies to relieve itching, which led me to treating the bite with an ice pack and aloe vera lotion (in lieu of calamine lotion).

Unfortunately for me, something odd bit me, or the climate and I don't get along, or my immune system simply isn't quite on par these days. Whatever the cause, the past week has been a rather frustrating adventure for me. Within a couple days, my bug bite grew to the size of a nickel; no cause for alarm, but clearly not a standard mosquito bite reaction. By Sunday, I had developed a faint bullseye rash around the bite. It still didn't look that bad, but I decided it was time to see a doctor (and make a trip to the pharmacy for calamine lotion). So Monday, in I tramped to the student health clinic during walk-in hours to see the nurse, who took a look and said the bite was healing fine, and the rash was probably an irritation from my shoe, as the bite was located on the side of my foot. She suggested I buy over the counter hydrocortizone cream to treat the rash.

Between mid-terms and the inconvenient hours of the local haunted CVS, I didn't acquire the hydrocortizone cream until Wednesday, when I had to make a trip to CVS for some school supplies in order to complete my mid-term. Naturally, it was just my luck that in this time period, my rash decided to get worse: bumps started popping up around the inner circle of the bullseye, and the outer ring was spreading.

This leads us up to today, when I decided it was time to see the doctor again. Unfortunately, the student clinic at SCAD is appointment-only on Friday, and they're closed all weekend. Instead, they directed me to the urgent care clinic. I attempted to find a general practitioner in the historic downtown area, but to no prevail. There aren't many options to begin with, and getting in without an appointment is impossible. So SCAD res life called a taxi for me.

Oh, if only my adventures ended with a smooth ride and a quick diagnoses. But I think we're far enough into this story to know that it's not going to, aren't we?

The taxi driver was a caricature; every negative southern stereotype rolled up into this odd man. He showed me a picture of his (now dead) 10-foot rattle snake, griped about every driver on the road, and complained about Obama. The ride itself was complicated, as traffic reached a stand-still and we were stuck sitting with no end in sight. Turned out, a tree had fallen across the street and nobody could go anywhere until the cops and tree-removal service managed to work through the traffic and remove the tree. 45 minutes later, I arrived at the urgent care clinic, where I got to wait for just over 2 hours before finally being seen. By this point, I hadn't eaten in 6 hours, and was operating on 4 hours of sleep. The more I had to wait, the crankier I was getting, and the more eager I was to finish up and go back to the dorm.

The doctor took a look, said it looked like a bad rash and prescribed a steroid cream and an antibiotic to avoid infection. Of course, with the haunted CVS being the only pharmacy within walking distance, and the amount of time I spent waiting for everything, it was closed by the time I returned to the dorm (this time driven back by a Russian taxi driver who kept wanting to take me to Oglethorpe Mall, instead of Oglethorpe Ave...about 15 minutes apart).

So this brings us to tonight, where I'm stuck with a blistery rash that is irritated by every single pair of shoes I owe. I don't know what caused the problem, whether is was some sort of venom in the bug which bit me, or an underlying problem that was simply aggravated by the bug bite. I've certainly been a very good girl and haven't touched my foot - even when the itching was driving me absolutely mad. Hopefully, things will go back to the way they were the first month here: with the bugs and me ignoring each other.

Most Haunted City in America

Well, I've been told on more than one occasion now that Savannah is the most haunted city in America. My dorm, Oglethorpe House, is supposed to be the most haunted dormitory at SCAD. Although with the amount of noise perpetually around this place, anything could be attributed to a ghost. I've heard extremely noisy footsteps overhead at 5:00 AM which may seem odd, until you remember that college kids never sleep (why else would I hear anything at 5:00 AM myself?). But whether you believe in ghosts or not, my floor seems to be off limits to the spirits; according to a website that tracks all of the O-house ghost stories, nothing exciting seems to happen on the 2nd floor. We do have a devil shower though; it seems to mutually hate me. Every time I turn the water on, the second I turn my back from the shower I find my scrub lying on the floor of the tub, requiring me to reach in to the scalding-hot water to pick it up. I have never actually witnessed the scrub fall; maybe I should keep my eye on it and play a game of wills with it. Oh, how I hate our evil shower (apparently, there's a ghost who messes with the faucets in the showers; guess we don't get along very well).

Anyway, the real inspiration for this ghostly post is the CVS on Bull Street. It's the only pharmacy within walking distance of the dorm. Conveniently located, it has the WORST hours. While most of the city will stay open into the evening, the CVS closes at 6:00 PM. Sorry folks; no prescriptions, no bathroom needs, no last-minute supplies in the evenings. Coming from a place where drug stores stay open until at least midnight if not 24 hour, this highly irks me. Two sources have explained to me the reasoning for the 6:00 PM closing time: The CVS is highly haunted, and the employees flat out refuse to work after dark. I've never heard such a reason for a business to close outside of a movie or TV show!

So I did some research into the subject, and sure enough plenty of sources explain the story behind the haunted CVS. Apparently, the CVS stands on the site of an 18th-century jail which housed the first woman to be hung in Georgia. The woman was pregnant, which post-poned her imminent execution (sounds like something out of Chicago or Raising Hope to me), and now in death she searches through the CVS every night for her baby. Has nobody informed the ghost that her baby is long dead too? According to another source, this CVS is the only store in the country to close so early. Eerie!

As Halloween approaches, this city is gearing up to celebrate; it's a very big deal, here in America's most haunted city. While many businesses close around dark, the various tours around Savannah - especially the ghost tours - continue well into the evening. I once saw a horse-carriage tour going at 11:00 PM when only the bars were open.

Living downtown is host to some other odd occurrences; yesterday morning around 6:00 AM, Erica and I heard a loud crash somewhere outside. I don't think too much of loud noises, being familiar with military base noises (and there's a base near here, too). But this one prompted Erica to loudly ask "WHAT was THAT?!" which then piqued my interest as something out of the ordinary. Almost instantly with the crashing sound, my iPhone buzzed twice - which I took to mean I had received a text (at a very odd time...). A few moments later, as we were still puzzling over the source of the sound, every device in the room buzzed back to life; Pete again buzzed twice, the computers hummed to life, and the printers very noisily turned on. Pete's initial buzzes were an indication that power had been cut, and the later symphony was the power returning. Our theory is that somebody drove into a power source; although they must not have done too much damage, because we really only had a glorified power blip. One of the printers, however, obnoxiously needed the last word and proceeded to throw out random noises for the next few minutes. I mean, really.

Tonight, I'm going down to the river (River Street, that is) for dinner with Margo and to experience a place which serves alcoholic smoothies; mmmm sounds fun! :) My only other foray so far down to River Street was last weekend, briefly, but it had a very charming, old feeling about it. Tomorrow, I think I'm going to hunt down the square and the bench where Forrest Gump sat telling his story to any person waiting for the bus willing to listen, and take some pictures of Chazz and Ginger recreating a scene (not a hard task; they'll sit on the bench).