I may have said this here before, but I want to say it again. I was just looking through facebook: all my friends are there, so it’s a good way to keep in touch. I just have so many memories from there. University brought me the three best years of my life; I was surrounded by people who shared my interests, who wanted to learn and also wanted to have fun. This, of course, goes without saying – they wouldn’t be there if they didn’t want to learn.

Yet there are certain groups within society who take thee opposite approach to life. Many kids view learning as geeky and school as uncool. These people worry me. For starters, I cannot help but feel sorry for them, as they are denying themselves so much fun: uni brings so much joy, from going to summer balls to seeing your big brother wear a stupid hat! It is clear that I come from a very academic family, so was brought up to value learning, but only now do I properly see why. At the end of the day, university and learning opens just so many doors. Graduates become teachers and writers, politicians and scientists. In short, I cannot help but conclude that in our hands – the hands of the learned – lie the reigns of power. To turn one’s back on learning, as many school kids do, is thus folly.

Now, it is not as simple as a choice. The decision not to take the academic path is born of many factors, class being possibly the foremost. My middle class family always impressed upon me the need to learn, taking the time to teach me things school did not. Now look: so far, the haul is two firsts and a PhD. I must say that my parents got this drive from my maternal parents, where the haul is even more impressive: among my siblings, parents, cousins aunts and uncles are 8 degrees, about 4 masters and 2 doctors. At present, the only one without a degree is my bro Luke, due to finish next year. But I digress. My point is, our grandparents endowed us all with the motivation to learn, a drive which too few kids are being given.

Of course, it is far too simplistic to argue that this is just down to motivation. Parents need the time and money to encourage kids. Yet, this way the status quo perpetuates itself: working class kids will settle for a second rate education, not push themselves, and grow up to be working class adults. To me, this is a stupid state of affairs as it means the squandering of a hell of lot of potential and a gross imbalance of power.. Surely the more we encourage kids the better off we will all be.

Hence we must stop this anti-intellectualism in children. Try to break the circle through will. We need to show them how much fun, how cool learning is. I rather suspect that this is especially prevalent among kids in special schools, who are apt to become very disillusioned with the whole system. It is up to the likes of me, therefore, to show tem what is possible, and just how much fun it can be.

Ye gads and little fishes! Never have I been so relieved to wake up than I was this morning. I was having a nightmare, dreaming that my brother had been executed by the French. Ii can’t remember what for, but it was terrible. I remember thinking ‘but he only got his PhD yesterday’. Bloody miserable dream. It’s all Graham’s fault: him and his Outsider. We were all very upset.

I woke up and smiled. The French had not executed mark, after all. Yay! I was in bed, and the sun was up. I dressed, and went to find breakfast, hugging mum on my way. The day got better when I saw, on the kitchen table, my Cat Empire CD! Yay! These guys rule man: as I say, c got me into them, listening to them on Wednesdays before brandies. Their music is just so lively, and will always remind me off the best times. Its music to chase the demons of the night away.

In light of yesterday’s momentous event, I typed ‘doctor’ into YouTube. look what happened. oh, how very (per)twee!

This entry will be nowhere near as long as it deserves, given the probfundity of that which it details. Today, my brother became, officially, dr. mark Goodsell. We just got back from the graduation ceremony in durham, so I’m tired. Nnevertheless, I’ll just record that I am now the proudest brother ever. Well done mark!

What do I write about today? There are two major things going on. The first you all probably know about, the second only my family knows of.

Today Gordon brown becomes PM. This is a good thing. If we leave aside for the moment the Iraq debacle, I like Tony Blair. He’s a little more conservative than I once thought, but his innings have for the most part been a good one. The nhs has improved vastly; disabled people have more rights, such as the right to a good education; employment is up, crime is down. I do not sense the hatred for the government I felt towards the end of the Tory era. Nevertheless, its time for Blair to go he upset a lot of people over Iraq, including myself, and to stay any longer would be undemocratic.

Eyebrows must, however, be raised over the coronation of brown. It is true that he dies not have a mandate from the people, although on the other hand the people reelected Blair in the full knowledge that one day they would see him morph into brown. I think, therefore, that brown must call an electron sooner rather than later maybe next year or the year after.

I just hope the people off this country do not fall for CaMoron. This means that Brown will have to establish himself as authoritative and genuine, in contrasts to CaMoron who changes his manifesto depending of who he speaks to. For me, as a disabled person, brown is the rational choice – the Tories would see us all back in homes and special schools in a money-saving scheme. I am quite certain that, under the Tories, I would not have gone to uni: the support structures I needed, like direct payments, would simply no have been there. It was only under a liberal, left-of-centre (well, nominally) government that a person like me could do so well, leaving as I did with a first class degree as well as friends and memories I’ll cherish forever. If Brown does not get re-elected next time, and are fool enough to fall for CaMoron and his crowd of sycophants and spin doctors (did you see David Davies on Newsnight last night desperately trying to spin the defection of Quentin Davies as a new labour stunt? It is sickening how low Tories will go to distort the truth) then I fear that future generations of disabled people will not enjoy the advantages I did. The fact is that in order to flourish we need the state infrastructures guaranteed only by a left-of-centre government. This is why brown must be re-elected.

In much less worrying business, I go up to Durham tonight to see my big brother mark get his PhD tomorrow. I am, needless to say, immensely proud of him; now I get to call him the doctor. I saw a hard-bound copy of his PhD thesis on Saturday, and was almost as impressed as when I saw that copy of the complete works dad got! I was jealous too – I wanted to be the first brother to be hard bound! Seriously though, all three of us seem to be flourishing. With my first and Mark’s PhD, Luke has a bit to live up to! No doubt that, with the right support structures, he too will excel!

Before I start this, I better apologise to mum for keeping her up so late, and thank Jo, her dad, Gilles and Maria for the lift home. How lucky I am to have such excellent friends and parents.

However, let me assure you that it was all worth it. Last night I watched (and had a small cameo in) Graham’s adaptation of Camus’ The Outsider. As I wrote on here before, graham lent me the book and then his script to read. First, I liked the book; then, I was very impressed by the script; yet the final piece blew me away. Never have I seen a finer piece of theatre. Never! Graham is my friend, but I am not simply being a sycophant: it was excellent, standing head and shoulders above anything

I have seen at uni,

Most university productions are contemporary theatre, and short. As such, most are abstracted to he point of incoherence. The Outsider, on the other hand, was more akin to traditional theatre inasmuch as it had a discernable plot and ran to about two hours. It also had characters one could believe in. Although I must sat I will never fully understand Mersault, he seemed real flesh and blood, with real (well hidden) feelings. This is ion stark contrast with the dramatis Personae of CTP, which are figments: hollow and random. I must say here that Steve jessop, who played Mersault, delivered possibly the best performance I have ever seen. His eruption at the end was phenomenal – literally jaw-dropping. He played his part to absolute perfection. I was extremely impressed, as were all the audience.

I am unsure whether this was because of the actors or director. From what I saw, both worked their socks off. While the utmost praise is due to the cast, I stand in awe of graham. I saw him create this text – working solidly for eight or nine hours straight sometimes, shaping, polishing and sharpening it. As a writer I was impressed

by his script, but he seems to excel at directing.

I had to miss his production of 100 Years of Solitude – a fact which I still regret – which I had to make certain I saw last night’s performance. As with solitude, graham has imbued me with fresh enthusiasm for the dramatic art. I sincerely hope I can one day work with him again.

I must admit I am rather troubled, and have been all weekend. My friends and I want to go to Ibiza this summer. Charlottes working out there, and there was an embryonic plan to go visit her. Problem is, I don’t know how. I’ve never organised anything like this in my life. Newquay was great, as was Paris, so that is encouraging, yet I can’t help but feel flustered. It’s the small things, like what if my friends organise to go the weekend of 1voice. 1vooice must take precedence, simply as matter of principal (C I suspect would agree). Hence in London, where we went this weekend, I spent yesterday worrying about getting a message to my friends not to book it for that weekend. I felt…well, powerless to be honest.

It’s funny, really. I’m probably blowing such things out of all proportion. If we go, its good; if not, I’m sure c will understand. Its just that I cannot help but fret.

Dad just plugged in my university computer at home, and everything’s up and running, so I’m happy. I have a mountain of paper to sort through, clothes to put away, so I’m pretty busy. It doesn’t seem two minutes since I sat in this very spot – maybe to the right to inches or so – and wrote this. yet I also seems an age away; I’ve come so far, grown so much. University is an experience I’ll never forget; it gave me memories I’ll treasure my whole life. It was the greatest thing I ever did.

My last day as an undergraduate just started. I cannot really believe it’s been three years. I do not want to repeat myself – you know what fun I have had, and how intently I will miss it. Anyway, all being well I will be back here next year for my masters.

For old times sake, I’ll just send you here, once again. Its been a blast!

Last night something pretty cool happened. Dad came here at about 7 to repair the chair, and after that I headed over to ps1 to catch up with g and the guys. I found that the rehearsal had just ended, but Richard and Justin were hanging around to work on the music. I waited about for ten minutes, then rich returned with some beers, and I watched the guys jam.

Those two guys were awesome. Justin, a friend of graham’s from the south, is quite a good bass player; Richard was on the drums. They must have just played for about ten minutes, just riffing. The lights were low, and I had a beer, and a huge feeling off contentment slipped over me.

Its been quite a long day at art school. I work 9 till four, which are longer hours than I’m used to. Today I was working in the gallery, showing kids round with their teachers. It’s mostly the children’s work in there, but, in the corner, on one stand, there’s an abstracted version of my exhibition – the only work of an mmu student in there. I gotta say that’s quite an ego boost, especially given that it was uni who asked me if they could put it up. I think its quite a complement.

oh, I forgot to clarify: I did indeed get a first. the letter was on the kitchen table when I got home on friday, confirming it. Not bad eh. the good news is that all of my friends passed too. nice one guys.

now, if only going to places like ibiza and chester was as simple as writing essays. [here I should ask the jones clan to bear with me. I will see you [i]sometime[/i]this summer (if you still want me)]

Dad and I argued yesterday evening. It was my fault – I neglected to tell him my chair was damaged, among other things. The back lights had come loose. I would ask him now to go here.

sorry dad

Its been ages since I have had a political rant. Recently I’ve been focussing on writing about the events around me. This is what has seemed important to me: my friends have been leaving, I’m going home soon myself, and I can’t help but feel morose about it. Now that campus is virtually empty, and nobody is about, I can focus on other stuff. My parents took my clothes home last night, leaving me just enough for the week, so I can’t have fun dressing up either. Boo.

Anyway, I was eating breakfast in the wes earlier, and David CaMoron was being interviewed on bbc news. In his ‘reasonable’ ‘jovial’ manner,, he was attacking labour’s tactic of ‘top down’ government. Naturally as a conservative, he thinks that institutions should be controlled by the people, not the government. When he said this, I realised just how stupid he and the philosophy he expounds is. The government, in a liberal democracy, IS the people. the people elect the government to control the institutions by proxy. If we allowed institutions such as the NHS to be run independently, as in free market capitalism, they would be run for profit. The result will be streamlined, cost-efficient, but also uncaring, unfair and open to mistakes. It’s executives would care more about their purses than patients. In short, it would be catastrophic.

People who vote conservative fail to understand this. we need government to help things run. People on their own are selfish, but working together we can be so much more. Thus we need governmental control for efficient administration. Conservatism, as we found before ’97, does not work. Frankly, I find it a sham philosophy – the only governing principals behind it are greed, fear of difference and fear of others. It means clinging on to the status quo – sort of an ‘I’m alright, sod you’ mentality. It’s exponents, of course, claim that it is ran my ‘social Darwinism’, i.e., left to its own devices, society will improve, but this is to misunderstand Darwin. He was describing nature, or rather it’s unconscious mechanisms. If we apply pure Darwinian principals to society, there would be a huge waste of talent – it would be a case of survival of the greediest and most opportunistic, not the ‘fittest’.

More pertinently to this blog, where would it leave us cripples? If society was based on conservatism, I think we would be screwed. We, without support such as direct payments, would not be able to keep up (I’m talking literal, physical support). It is the government which should be expected to provide this support on two counts: A) expecting people to pay for their own support would lead to an unfair, inhumane lottery of life. B) under the social model, it is society which disables us through it’s barriers; it follows that society should be expected to remove those barriers.

Why don’t people see conservatism for what it is? It is a sham, poorly thought out, centred on the self; it is as worrying as it is ridiculous. Why it didn’t die out in the late nineteenth century would be beyond me, had I not factored in people’s inability to understand new ideas.

The question is, how do I start this and what to include? How do I put this? It’s almost too incredible for words, this feeling – this euphoric feeling – is almost impossible to describe. Yesterday three of the most incredible years of my life reached a peak. It’s as if a grand symphony reached the very moment of climax and all the notes and phrases which had been before were added up to make one divine chord.

These really have been the best years of my life. I have loved almost every moment of my university experience, both academically and socially. Of course, I think the second equated the first. I think that if a student flourishes socially at university, he or she is more likely to flourish academically. I found that I was in a very supportive environment, so surrounded by friends which made university seem like a positive place to be. This made me more inclined to push myself. I think that staying in halls has helped greatly with this, for I was able to enjoy the company of people in exactly my position. Living at uni and finding it a fun place to be is more likely to foster a positive work ethic. I think my friends felt the same. In other words, if you are allowed to play hard, you are more likely to work hard. I think we all play hard. I have so many good memories; going to Paris in the second year, going to Newquay in the third year, discos at Brandies every Wednesday, doing my exhibition, winning the pub quiz two weeks in a row, going to Steve’s house party, going to Charlotte’s house and staying overnight, going to my first every night club, the list goes on. I don’t think this would have been possible had it not been for two factors which overlock slightly. Firstly, I have the best group of friends a man could ask for. People who I love dearly and who support me. Second, I have a very good set of Pas – without them I couldn’t possibly have come to uni. I wouldn’t be able to eat for one, or take notes, or do virtually anything that made university so much fun. As I say, the two groups overlap, it is impossible not to regard your Pas as your friends if you see them day-in, day-out. As I said on Wednesday, there is some overlap. While some may frown upon this over issues of control, I found it works exceptionally well.

Finally, Esther, without her none of this would be possible. She took my notes and gave me lunches, but she also did much more, she kept me on the straight and narrow, reminded me to do things. I owe her a lot, as with Steve, Charlie, and Nicky, I am extremely fond of her.

And so we reach the end of this blog entry; the end of my degree, the end of an era. I will miss it. I will miss all my friends. I will miss lectures. I will miss typing out assignments after breakfast and meeting everyone in the Wes at about 11. I will miss dinner with Charlotte. I will miss getting dressed up in the most ridiculous clothes and going to Brandies. I will miss sitting out on the blue benches with Jim. I will miss going to Graham’s rehearsals. I will miss everything. I should say that this blog entry is to be read in the context of all the entries before it, which I made in the last few years.

And now we come to it. It gives me great pleasure to announce that I got my results yesterday. The grand cherry was put on the most delicious cake ever: although I’m yet to see actual written confirmation of this, so it might change, it presently looks like I got a first!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUM!see you tonight. love you lots

I was over in Crewe earlier today, on business which I’ll blog about tomorrow, when the woman organising artscool came up to me. As I’ve said before, they want to put on my exhibition again, as part of it. However, just as I was taking a bite of my mars bar, she approached me. While she thought my work was brilliant, she had noticed two of the bits of writing had swear words in. as it was for kids, she asked me to change the offending words.

The first piece I had no problem with: its simply a case of changing arse to butt (arse is cooler, but never mind). However, the second piece was different. It is the closing sentence of this blog entry I need to change. While I see her point, I also think that profanity is necessary, especially in such cases. She did, in fact, agree with me, but there are kids involved. I am loathe to change it – those words were written out of hatred and despair. Most of my work in my exhibition, I feel, is very upbeat, but people need to see the contrast.

While the thought of changing those words puts me in a foul mood, I guess I need to change them. After all, there are kids involved. Just don’t expect me to be happy about it.

I find myself fretting over the entry I wrote last night (link); I think there are bits I forgot to say. It is intended simply to question the received notions of who one should employ as a PA. for me, the solution of employing a person who is already a friend or associate works wonderfully, as long as it is handled maturely. Thus, when charlotte first became my PA, we ere already friends. However, I do feel our bonds grew stronger as time went on, and the more we saw of each other, at dinner time etc, the more we wanted to see of each other socially. Provided that you both agree upon what is what I see no harm In this. yes, there are ambiguities (eg, a trip with other friends to the cinema), but these can be talked through and agreed upon (basically you just need to be relaxed, open and honest, three qualities which miss Jones possesses in spades!). I really feel it has lead to a firm and lasting friendship, although whether this friendship would have developed in such a way anyway is hard to discern. I have many other great friends here, but I seem to have grown especially attached to c. we spent a lot of time together, which is why I miss her.

I think, too, that this is only suitable for a few people: you can’t employ any of your friends. Charlie was ideal because she has the right temperament and attitude, as does Steve and Esther. I should say, too, that it is only because Charlie is Charlie that we grew so close. Whether I’ll grow closer to jen next year remains to be seen.

Better stop going on about this. I hope Charlie doesn’t mind me recording all this, but I think it important for me to try to explain to other disabled people my perspective on organising my own care, and the advantages and disadvantages to it. all I am saying is that this method, unorthodox though it is, helped me forge one of the most wonderful friendships of my life. It worked brilliantly for me: all my needs were met, with the minimum of fuss. I think we both had great fun too. You just need to respect eachother. It probably isn’t suitable in all cases, but given the result it produced, – a great year and a hell of a friendship – I do not regret it in the slightest.

I freely admit that choosing a friend to be PA a is very unorthodox. I rather suspect that some of my friends from the disabled community would probably frown upon my asking Charlie and Steve – two of my best friends – to PA for me. There are dangers inherent in such a choice; however, if handled properly, I feel it can work wonderfully, and I am really glad I did it.

I better explain the reasoning behind my decision. Charlotte was, and remains, a good friend of mine. She also lived, this year, on campus, just the other side of the sports hall. The obvious advantages to this were that A) having seen Bill PA for me, Charlie knew exactly what I needed, and B) if need be, I could very easily ask for her help by knocking on her window. Often, this worked better than e-mail. C knows me very well, and can thus meet my needs. Moreover, given that we fitted into the same large social group, our activities matched almost exactly: wherever she wanted to go, I usually wanted to. Also, although she is not a ‘professional’ PA, she was open to helping me shower etc, so she met my needs in that area.

However, one must be careful with this strategy. You must trust each other completely, as well as keeping a level head. The split between social time and PA time must be clear: for example, on Wednesday nights – disco nights – I usually put charlotte down as having worked three hours for me: one hour tea time, another getting me ready, one hour putting me to bed, approximately. Note, too, that I allowed for her to get me drinks too, which an ordinary PA would have to do. The rest of the time we were together in a capacity of friends. We both understood this, and it is why you must show your PA a timesheet to sign. You must therefore be completely open, and, of course, it is a supreme credit to charlotte that she didn’t once try to take advantage of this. Another case in point is newquay: we were both going, so asking charlotte to feed me my meals etc seemed more expedient than taking another person. The rest of the time we were simply together as friends.

It has been suggested by some that this strategy may cause an imbalance in power: one friend wants to do this, another wants to do that. However, I found that, as long as one is open and reasonable, this did not occur. Sometimes, I was happy to go along with Charlie, and visa versa. Campus is so small that options are limited and our intentions often coincided. if they did not, a way to accomodatee my needs was usually found.

Of course, there were occasions when we wanted to be together purely as friends. On such occasions, like Monster Monster, I took another PA. in that way, we could simply have fun together, and it turned out to be a great night. I think this is why I feel so affectionately towards her: we spent a lot of time together, at dinner time etc, and the more time I spent with her, naturally, the more I grew to like her. I do feel that she became almost more than a friend; it’s fair to say we became very close. Thus, I think we became closer this way. In a way, I’m glad she’ no longer officially my employee, as now we can just enjoy each others company whenever we meet. (mind you, I think it is in charlotte’s nature to care for people, so odds on she’ll still help me out however she can)

As I say, you must be careful. Charlotte is an exceptional person; I think this can only work with people like her, who are open, honest, and trusting. It would not work in places other than a campus, which fosters such openness, friendship and trust: we students have a strong sense of comradeship. This is why I need an ordinary PA over summer, but next year I intend to ask Jen, a 2nd year friend, to PA for me. Unorthodox, maybe, but I found it works very well indeed.

The contrast in my mood from 24 hours ago is amazing. I’m still rather miffed I missed that party, but yesterday afternoon I bumped into fran, who went. She explained what happened, and about how they tried to get into contact with me. In fact she seemed as upset as I was. In the end, she got her mobile, and called c. putting it on loudspeaker so I could talk to her. In that moment, I realised I have the best group of friends ever! C understood everything, and said she missed me. I instantly felt much, much better. I miss her to – quite accutely – but, with phones and the internet and everything, no friend is ever really that far away.

Well, today we’re going to put up the exhibition in Crewe. More ego-trips for me. I have a feeling it’s gonna be a great day!

I just found out something both interesting and crap. According to facebook, my school doesn’t exist. If you use their school finder thing, and select winsford, you find Verdin and Woodford Lodge, but no Hebden green. Of course, this is probably because it’s a special school, and, after all, why would we cripples be using computers? Alternatively, it may have blown up, but I rather suspect it means that people aren’t supposed to know it’s there. Interesting, don’t you think?

I’m still rather perturbed about what happened yesterday. In fact, it frustrated me enough to disturb my sleep. It made me very angry – as I wrote last night, I’d have loved to see c and all my friends – but I guess it’s sods law, and there was nothing more I could do. I’d have got a taxi, but didn’t have the cash. Either way, I got my friend john to phone Charlie to explain, and I’m sure she understands. Its just frustrating.

In fact, I was a bit naughty last night. I got home on Friday to a most magnificent sight (for a bibliophile). A hard-bound, gold-edged illustrated copy of the complete works of Shakespeare lay on the table. I have never seen a more beautiful book. at first, ii thought it was a gift for someone, but I was wrong: it was ours. Dad had got it because it had been reduced from £150 to just £8. It struck me as a blasphemy! However, I offered it to Ollie, or any of my friends, if they could take me to Chester last night. I was being quite serious: I’d have given anything for a car. Mind you, I didn’t tell anyone how little dad paid for it.

Oh well; its not the end of the world. Frustrated, if not downright sad as I feel, life goes on. Now all I have to do is organise getting my arse out to Ibiza. I wonder if I could pay for that in books.

I do not recall ever feeling this upsets. I can not access the email from my website at home, only hotmail; when I checked outlook, at about 5 this evening, I found an email from my friend Jodie: party at charlotte’s, see me soon for a lift. It was sent Friday, so I rushed but to find my friends. I was too late.. the space they had in the car filled. I rushed about frantically trying to get to Chester, but to no avail. While I know I’ll see her soon enough, I’d have given anything to get to that party – tot be with my friends, surprising Charlie. She’s the type of person I’d walk to the ends of the earth for, as I’d suspect she’d do no less for me. Not being able to get there, to be in her company, feels like I’ve betrayed her almost. If course, we’ll see each other at graduation, and I suspect we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the future, but my inability to get to this party – the farewell do of my best friend – saddens me very deeply indeed.

How come everything these days involves cats? Its odd, but suddenly cat references seem all around me. For example:

1.I recently ordered a cat empire cd from Amazon. Cat empire are an Australian band who play very eclectic, upbeat music. Charlie introduced me to them – she often put their album on when I went to visit her on Wednesday before brandies disco. Its good music, and I associate it with great times. Go listen.

2.I have been buying zentai again. This time I ordered one with a cat’s ears and tail. I know its silly, but there is something about the feline aesthetic I find compelling.

3.on campus we have a one-eyed cat called Brandy, after which the bar is named. I have recently taken amusement in chasing it, especially when bored, shouting things like ‘dinner!’ of course, I do not mean to harm the thing – in fact, I’ve grown quite attached to the animal. It is fun though.

So there we have three examples of why cats are taking over my life, and probably the world too. Maybe if I disguise myself as one while listening to their music they won’t hurt me when they take over. Mind you, if cats did take over the world, brandy would chase me. I’m in trouble!

Today I’d like to draw you’re attention to a problem which I presume is common to all VOCA users. Not sure if I have posted about it before, but it’s worth mentioning it again. The thing is we can’t walk and talk, or, rather, type and control a wheelchair, at the same time. Cp effects dexterity so that you can only use one hand at a time.

Me, Chris, Steve and martin were walking back from the pub last night (which reminds me, I still don’t know what the final score of the England mach was). My friends were walking, I was in defiant. It was about 7.30, so still rather bright. The guys were talking typical lad stuff about which house they claimed to own, sexual behaviour, cars, football, and general obscenity, my chair, when set on mode 3 is slightly faster than they walk, so I kept edging away from them. Although this wasn’t on purpose, I felt I was being rude: I couldn’t really join in the conversation, as that would mean stopping to compose a sentence every two or 3 seconds, in which case we’d just be arriving home now, but at the same time I didn’t want to appear as if I wasn’t enjoying their company.

Well, what can you do. The only solution is to go in my manual chair, meaning I would need to ask my friends to push me. This would free up my right hand to type. While I’m pretty sure they would do this, last night I felt like going in my electric. I like the ability to propel myself. Its thus a case of the ability to speak versus the ability to move. Quite a conundrum, no?

I’m not sure there’s a definitive answer. As it was, I was just happy listening to my friends talk and laugh, on a bright summer evening, on the way back from the pub.

My eagerness to evangelise about university has thrown up something of a paradox in my head, although it is one which is easily solved. To enter higher education, we all must reach certain standards: universities give applicants conditional offers, which means that they are denied entry if they do not reach them. While I agree with this system, where does it leave inclusion? It is elitist. Surely uni cannot be both inclusive and discriminatory.

Yet this is to neglect the fact that there are many different types of intelligence. Just because one cannot pass exams doesn’t mean one is an idiot. Indeed, to a certain extent, I think that academia is too lingo-centric, too focussed on literacy. While I personally believe writing is the best way to get across large bodies of information, it is not the be all and end all of communication. It relies on the ability to access an arbitrary code: why should this ability be the yardstick for intelligence? I see no real reason why assignments cannot be spoken, given in symbols like Bliss, or even danced, provided that they are judged by the same criteria as all other assignments. I believe all students should be expected to reach the same standard, but how they show this should vary according to ability. This is admittedly still discrimatory inasmuch as it still stipulates that there is a standard that must be reached: to remove such standards would be farcical, as it would remove all incentive. People would not push their selves if they knew they would get in anyway. Mind you, I see no reason why criteria cannot vary from person to person: do not judge a man by thee standards of other men, but by how much he improves. After all, school should not be about competition, but self improvement: what is valid for one is not valid for another.

Hmm..interesting. yes, I think that standards are necessary, but they should not be absolute. As long as one does their best, that is what matters. Say one person got 73% without trying, and another got 42% although they had tried their hardest, surely the 42 is better. It may not be a masterpiece, but one should be proud. The main problem with special schools is that kids aren’t taught to push theirselves. It is the people, not the numbers, that count.

Facebook is addictive. I’ve been on it for less than two days and I can’t get off it. There are just so many cool photographs on there, of me and my friends, including one of almost my entire group of friends taken at the last brandies. Although in it I’m wearing my large blue frock, and I look kind of drunk, it truly is beautiful. For it is a symbol of the friendship between a great group of people. surely, this photograph is possessed of what Barthes called ‘The Punctum’ – the ability of the photograph to prick or wound. Wound it does, as, looking at it, and remembering so many great things about the people within it’s frame, one realises with great regret that you may never see some of these people again.

Mind you, with networks like facebook, I rather doubt that!

My friends have got me using both myspace and facebook. It is the best way, apart from MSN massager, to stay in touch, but does it have to be so zarking annoying? Grrr! I prefer my own good old domain to blog: less pop-ups and certainly less emos. Myspace is full of prepubescent teenagers; and when, precisely, did it take over the internet.

Naturally, I intend to continue to use it – best way to keep in touch – but its my prerogative to growl at the screen all the while.

I think I agree with my friend Steve, who suggested this afternoon that a massive fire at an aerosol factory in Crewe was a conspiracy to make the town smell nicer. Finally, something interesting happens around here. Apparently, the explosion was huge.

link

I just got back here. Things will not be the same on campus with over half my friends gone: Charlie’s back home, preparing for Ibiza; Emma, Nicky and switch have jobs. I’m sure they understand that, although I won’t constantly mention them here on my blog, they are never far from my thoughts. To be sure, I have no real reason o feel glum: I was sitting in our back garden on Saturday, with dad, worrying about my friends. Suddenly, dad remembered something – he got out the phone, and rang one of his old uni mates: ‘hi [matt forgets name]. glad you’re in…I was just thinking about a trip to Barcelona next march…” I suddenly remembered, every two years, my parents go on a trip with their university friends from Southampton. Cool or what? I suddenly saw that it was by no means goodbye! University, as with school to a slightly lesser extent, forges lifelong friendships.

It thrusts people together. Kids come to university more or less alone, often very frightened. I found the first week of my first year petrifying. But I gradually grew, I made friends, I learned that my disability didn’t matter one jot here. I found I was learning so much and having so much fun that all longing for the comfort of home disappeared. My brothers were far away, but I kind of gained new siblings. I still intend to be in contact with all of them when I’m ninety. Uni, I feel, did me so much good. Whereas school stifled me, both academically and socially, university accelerated me to warp drive. Socially I am more positive, academically I am more critical.

I feel I must now evangelise: I must spread the word of higher education. Many kids with disabilities are told so much piffle about their limits at school stage that they do not push their selves. They tend, I think, to accept menial rolls and second rate educations because they are told, as I once was, that such things are all they are capable of. How disgustingly patronising?

Admittedly, this is problematic: I should not impose my ideas on everyone; many people do not want to go to university, and would rather work. This is fair enough, but it’s hard for me not to want to spread the word when I have got so much out of university. It opens so many doors, leading anywhere to string theory research to concert violin playing to brain surgery to the presidency of the United States. Indeed, even to film studies research. I just feel that something so great, which did so much for me, should be open to everyone.

May I refer back to this entry.

My friend are having one last get together tonight. Many leave this weekend, including Charlie. This fact alone has put me in a morbid stupor all day – my great fear is that we’ll never see each other again.

I vowed this morning to make sure that does not happen. In Australia over Christmas we met two old university friends of my parents, who live just outside Sydney in a castle made by a crazy irish dude. Even though they left uni about 30 years ago, and they live half the world away, they’re still good friends. In this I take great stock. I dearly hope that, from time to time, I still see Steve, Emma, Nicky, switch, Charlie et al.

I’ll make sure they know where I can be found, and I better warn them that, wherever they end up living, they would be advised to keep a stock of straws in their cupboard!