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ok, i know its a day in, but so far i’m really greattful 4 this half term. last week shattered me, but now i’m full of vim and vigour. wattched a bond and aa jackie chan film today, and mum got return of the king on dvd! feeling good! revisions going well too.

Linguistics of disability

the debate on how the disabled are or should be referred to often comes up on the ouch messageboards. the debate interests me. just how should we be defined. of course, it depends in part on weather we are a specific sub-group – is there a “we”, or are the disabled merely a set of unrelated humanns with some physical quirks?

The answer, I think, lies domewhere in the middle. Essentially I am no more ‘related’ to another disabled person than I am to eminem – we have different views, diffrent likings and diffrent political stances – yet, o the other hand, all disabled people share certain things: the special school system, frustrations at restrictive beurocraccy, a hatred of steps (especially the blond welsh one).

therefore, given that we are indeed a social subgroup, how are we defined? people who wear black and llisten to thrash metal are usually called “goths”; people who wear socks outside their platic trousers and baseball caps are called “scallies”, although “2complete retards” seems more accurate; so what is the collective term for isabled people?

I often refer to myself as “cripple” or “spastic”: these are derogetory terms which, rather like the term “nigger” in americcan culture, we have claimed for ourselves. they are postmodern terms, used for ironic purposes. Yet were anyone to refer to me as a spastic – that is, anyone other than my close friends and family – I would find it extremely offensive, just as a black person would take offense were I to call him a nigger. Jackie chan illustrates this very point in “rush hour”.

We can therefore see how this debate is so diifficult. euphomisms like “the ddisabled” and “the physically challanged” smack of the medical model, which attempts to treat us like hospital patients; South Park clearly illustrated how “the crips” is already taken; “spastic” reminds me of the 1970s andd is too derogiterry.

Whatevver the word, there will be problems with it, so why dont we just call all bets off. shakespeare wrote “a rose by any other name would’st smell as sweet”, so does it matter wht we are called? I think not. we are disabled, and we are proud!

time to chill out.

this week i had three long exams on wednesday, thursday and friday. the thing is, they were all supposed to take place on wednesday, but due to the extra time i get it was thoought that doing examms for 12 hours in one daay would be a breach of human rights. Thus i had 2b persona-non-grata for three days. I was begining to get interne withdraw;l sympoms. At least now i can rest for 2 or 3 days before pressing on with revision. yay!

In other news, my site is getting more and more hits. so welcome newcomers etc.

in other other news, bush iis gettingon my nerves.. I’ll write about him smetime soon, but now it’s tome for fiends. does chanel 4 show anything else?

journey to the dark heart of goth

last night was very cool indeed. as planned, I was picked up at 8, and was in crewe by half past, I was aken in by clive and KJ. Strange how people made a fuss of me – finding me a suitable chair [i.e one i could”t fall off], saying “hi” and glad you could come”. I decided I like being made a fuss of.

anyway, i was sitting in a very dark, smokey room with a screen covering the stage at one end, onto which were being projected music videos. I got chatting to KJ, hayley and a few of the guys. Clive bought me a stella, and I sddenly relaxed. I thought “this is cool”, and felt like I was just a normal person out with mates.

I fell into my old habbit of watching people as the place filled up. I used to think goths and bikers were scary people, but tonight they seemed, well, normal, andd slightly comic for all their talk of death and suicide. I would once have been petrified of setting foot into such a place, but with Clive and the guyys about, it felt cool. couldn’t help wondering what all the beardy bikers thought of me, but i’m pretty certain they didn’t mind – one even commented on my h*a*s*h tee shirt.

After we had arived, with me sipping the stella through the straw somewhat too quickly, I suddenly heard the opening bars of one of my favourite songs – Basketcase on the big screen! From then on, I knew it was gonna be a cool night!

as 9 approached, Kyle and the guys went backstage. Suddenly, the projection-screen lifted, and the most almighty din ensued. Kyle was shouting into a microphone like something satanic, Mark and Lee were on guitar, Dar was on Keyboard and charles was on drums. it all could have been imposing, if it hadn’t occurred to me that these guys wouldn’t hurt a fly, and indeed a few hours ago had been helping around the student council. Lee ofen helps me with my coffee. my point is that, i think the goth people have a bad reputation which is unwarrented. appearences often decieve.

Well, theres not much more to tell, other than I bought the 2nd round, had a thoroughly enjoyable evening, and got home shortly before 11. I wonder when their next gig is.

Scapegoat’s site

I finally have a social life

tomorrow night, i’m going out with a few of the guys from college. theyre playing at the limelight in crewe.. clive, the head of the student council and top bloke, is gonna pick me up from home about 8. after all these years of sitting, getting bored at home, i finally have a social life!

its somewhat liffee affirming!

the a team live!

I just have to blog this – i was eating lunch at college in a conservitarry-type area thing, and down thee college road comes a big black van with a red stripe which took me right back to the 80s watching the A team with my older bro.

do you have a problem? yes lunch isn’t here yet and no-one else can help. no, esters fetching it.

then you must call…THE A-TEAM. Err, no thanks mr. beraccus, me and my LSA can cope, now go play somewhere else.

cool air

I just went downstairs again, and stood by tthe back door. the air now seems clear and fresh. I seldom go in to the garden, or any province of my father much, and so I lack knowledge of it. What I said earlier here was thus unfounded – for the most part. looking from tthe back door into the garden, I remembered the times dad had taken me there, onto the lawn, into fresh air. anger vaniishes like dawn mists, and I thought of Heaney’s poem: [quote=”Seamus Heaney”]DIGGING

Between my finger and my thumb

The squat pen rests: snug as a gun.

Under my window, a clean rasping sound

When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:

My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds

Bends low, comes up twenty years away

Stooping in rhythm through potato drills

Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft against the inside knee was levered firmly.

He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep

To scatter new potatoes that we picked

Loving their cool hardness in our hands.[/quote]

bite me, dad!

to a certain extent, the fate of people with disabilities is to bottle things up: to keep quiet about frustrations, to relax because you know that some people somewhere have things much worse. I can do this usually: the indignity of being fed, getting messy, being spoken down to. But tonight dad was bemoaning how i have it easy; how he suffered most after my birth; how cp ruined his life. well poor you, dad, sitting there with your steaming tea and fluid arms, heranging mum for not having dinner cooked after she’d done a days work; taking the piss out of my speach when you just cant be arsed to listen.

well, bite me! in this malfunctioning body a bad decision gave mme, I put up with about ten times the stresses you do. and at school i saw people with problems ten times greater than mine.