The girlies have been sick the past few days. We had to cancel Wifey's birthday party because Munchkin was coughing up a storm and Munchkenna was too hoarse to cry. I think they are both on the mend, but we'll see.
Wifey and I didn't get much sleep last night. Munchkenna kicked me out of our bed so Wifey could take care of her. I took Munchkin duty.
Since we were both pretty tired tonight, Munchkenna decided to wake up about 10:00 to disrupt a good night's sleep from happening. Knowing that most of the local tv stations had news on, I sought something more entertaining on PBS.
Independent Lens had a program on tonight about deaf poetry slams. I've never been to a poetry slam, and I don't know that I would ever go. Poetry feels too contrived to me. I would be interested in seeing a deaf poetry slam though.
The first thing that struck me was how emotive the poets were. Their poetry was like dance, but with concrete meaning. I didn't feel like someone was looking down on me because I didn't understand their poem--instead, I felt like someone being told a story These high school kids were passionately showing emotion and engaging in a way that most adults could not do today. They wanted their voice to be heard.
This message resounded in me. I have felt stifled at work lately. I give feedback in hopes that things will change, but instead I get to repeat myself as my workload mounts. I want my voice to be heard--not only because I am trying to make things easier for everyone around, but also because I believe what I have to say.
It was a bit odd for me to find my voice tonight through a female high school senior from Israel who spoke only one word I could understand, but I did. Now I just need to keep letting my voice be heard and using it with a hint of the same fervor that she had.
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