Dad keeps going on at me for not blogging more about disability subjects, and told me this weekend that my blog has become more like a diary recently. I see his point, but I’d also maintain that my writing about my day-to-day activities as a masters student will raise awareness, albeit on a very small scale, of what life is like for a person with cp. This is why my blog is filled with so much waffle. I know I should try to blog about wider disability politics, but I guess that, at present, I’m still stuck in the pleasant bubble of academia.

However, some of you may find this interesting. It’s a video, on youtube, about ‘accessing the inaccessible’. It concerns the problems faced by an American high school student with disabilities; even getting through the front door, it seems, was a struggle. Yet it is important to note that, despite these problems, her belief in inclusion never falters. It is better to struggle on against the obstacles than be segregated, for an obstacle can be overcome whereas the damage done by segregation is often life long.

Its been yet another quiet weekend. In fact, I didn’t go outside between Friday night and Monday morning. It hasn’t been the type of weather I’ve wanted to go out in, and to be honest I’m rather tired. It’s been a long term. I don’t think I’ve ever worked harder and I’m just about ready for a break. I’m looking forward to a Christmas at home watching films on the big TV, and taking lots of baths in our new Jacuzzi. I tried it out for the first time last night and it ruled. Mind you everything I touch these days seems to be breaking – this term Mum says I have methodically gone through every piece of equipment I own. I’m hoping that the Christmas holiday will give me a break from breaking stuff.

Esther just made an interesting request. It’s the time of year when we all wrap presents, and est wants to know if someone can make a ‘wrapping theory’. Her logic is, as ever, infallible: if there exists a theory of string, there should be a theory of wrapping paper. This theory should answer questions such as why things like clothes are so hard to wrap.

I guess it would be related to brane theory: this, as far as I know, says superstrings are like membranes in other dimensions. However, I personally prefer art to science. Mind you, the two seem to converge rather nicely inasmuch as they both state that absolute truth is unknowable: lyotard’s postmodernism and Schrdinger and Hinesburg’s uncertainty both lead one to conclude that everything comes down to objectivity. What holds true for one person may not be true for another. It follows, then, that the idea of objective truth is unknowable, kind of like a present inside wrapping paper!

It may be nothing to do with cp, or crippledom, or anything, but this clip, cheesy and poorly made though it may be, is pretty much the core of my personal cinephilia. Long live crap on youtube.

I’ve been putting off writing this all day, because I’m not sure what to say about it. Last night I went to see the year two ctp performances, directed by the two ctp lecturers. Both were very odd: the first concerned people going into and out of doors, some vague characters, and some music. The second concerned ‘Oklahoma’: it fused ideas of Oklahoma the play/musical, and the bombings there. This was odd, a little pretentious and mildly racist inasmuch as it had a mature student doing a very bad, almost stereotypical, imitation of a native American.

Oh, how I long for someone to do something with a discernable plot and characterisation around here. All I could think of last night was the emperors new clothes.

Its been an okay day today. This morning, despite home help coming too early, was highly productive. I watched a film called Gilda, and was able to turn out close to 1000 words on it before lunch. Not bad, although I was starving by the end of it. This afternoon, I went shopping. I love how I have the freedom and confidence to get myself to Crewe and back – something uni gave me that school did not. Bought a few Christmas prezzies. Not a bad day.

Yesterday I remembered I had mum’s Australian diary from Australia on my hard disk, so I read some. I’ve been thinking about Australia a lot recently; it was, I think, the holiday of a lifetime. Plus, the weather is decidedly better this time of year over there. Can’t help but miss it. I miss watching cricket at Melbourne and Sydney, even if we lost; I miss Rosie and the Winston’s, and peter our tour guide; I miss barramundi fish and Victoria bitter. I miss nice weather!

It has been a great year. The events of February still upset me – I remember the long, cold road back from Weston with bitterness – but the events of July, and the memory of the roar from the crowd, still fills me with joy. The year which began watching fireworks over darling harbour, Sydney, proved to me my best year. I suspect more great years will follow.

link

Although most of the boys in question were brought home sixty years ago, last nights 1940s themes Christmas party was lots of fun. There were a few outrageous costumes, lots of fun games (including Chinese Christmas, where I got the best prise) and lots of drinking. I had on a 1940s-style catsuit. Steve was there in the beginning, and it was great to see him.

Hmm… now I come to think of it, I cant remember too many of the details. Always a sign of a good party. Jen and ash have done it again.

The problem with liberalism is that one never knows where one should stand. Two stories in the news illustrate this quite well. First, on Tuesday we had an up raw over whether or not nick griffin should be allowed to speak at the oxford union. Now, all reasonable people loathe griffin and his racist beliefs; yet, at the same time, one must uphold the position that all people should have a right to free speech. My own personal thoughts were that he should have been allowed to speak, and then, in the ensuing debate, have been shown to be the moron he undoubtedly is.

The second, slightly more complex issue is the British teacher in Sudan jailed for allowing her students to name a teddy bear Mohammed. On the one hand, I think we have to respect the will of the Sudanese people and judiciary; on the other, I, as a liberal atheist, don’t see the point of getting het up about the name of this bear. I don’t see how it insults Islam. Were I to call my bear Jesus, would that insult Christianity? I don’t see how it would. Religion, I think can be taken too far. Do I believe, therefore, that the British authorities should get involved? That is a good question. Part of me says her jailing was wrong, but another part says we should respect the Sudanese people.

Mind you, I just checked bbc news – ” Thousands of people have marched in the Sudanese capital Khartoum to call for UK teacher Gillian Gibbons to be shot.” – I can never condone capital punishment, Sudanese sovereignty or not.

Thus we have the paradox within liberalism. It’s a whole bunch of contradictions really, but while some have used this fact, rather inanely, to discredit liberalism, I think it precisely mirrors the uncertainty of reality. Objectivity is a myth. Unlike conservatism, liberalism acknowledges that there is always more than one side to every story, and therefore only it can be held up as a rational political ethos.

this video has set something of a debate off within me. It concerns a family’s fight for a wheelchair the mum needs. Ordinarily, I’d have no problem with this, only they’re demanding an ibot. On the one hand, I think ‘why not? Fair game to her.’ On the other, I think it arrogant for her to demand such a high-spec chair when there are hundreds of disabled kids with woefully inadequate chairs.

I guess I might just be jealous, or have congenital-crip bias. Anyway, tell me what you think.

Just a quick one tonight. Been a much better day – watched a cool film, got about 500 words down about it, and went to watch gospel. I’ve been in a funk since Monday, but Wednesdays cheer me up. Beer discos and pink stuff, innit?

Anyway, here’s a blog by a fellow CPer in the states. He’s got a few highly perceptive entries, especially on inclusion, which I think are worth a read. Enjoy.

About midmorning yesterday I got an email from lee; he was wondering if I was free anytime this week to go and try to find Richard’s grave. Although I was supposed to be working, some things, I think, must take priority. I’ve always wondered where my friend was buried.

Lee came yesterday afternoon, and drove us both to Nantwich cemetery, where, he had heard, our friend was buried. He did not, however, know exactly where rich was, and explained that we needed to hunt. The cemetery itself is overgrown and unkempt, so this was easier said than done. We were both stumbling around this infernal place, looking for the grave of our friend, and it struck me what a shitty state of affairs it was. I keep thinking about rich, about the boy I once knew and now will never talk to again. About how this was the product of the special school system; about how this was what you got when you grew up in such a place, searching for a name on a gravestone. And how it was wrong. It isn’t that I’m not proud to have known guys like Simmo; its just that I consider what we special school survivors had and still have to witness nothing more than barbaric.

In the end we didn’t find it. It was getting dark, we were both starting to fall over, so we gave up. I knew I’d be expected home by jen. It’s just sad we didn’t find it. Poor Richard. I could do with some of his wit right now, but…..

This weekend saw the Onevoice winter conference. Because dad is the only one who can put my chair in the van, and he had to fly out to basil, turkey, yesterday, I had to cut my stay short. This was, of course, unfortunate, but I suppose it couldn’t be helped. At least I got to help a bit.

It was, of course, fun, and I’m getting used to the format. This time, I brought two Pas – jen and ash. They did their job splendidly. Bringing them both may have been overkill, but the truth is I wanted them both to experience it. Onevoice is my ‘other world’; it is the world of disability, which, outside of internet message boards and msn messager, I don’t have much contact with these days. That is, of course, as it should be, but at the same time it feels like going back to your roots – a homecoming, of sorts.

I think that’s how the kids there feel too. At Onevoice it’s as if they are the normal ones. If I can help facilitate that, then it’s all good.

For now, though, its back to my other world – the world of books and learning. In this world, I’ll always be something unusual; there’s nothing bad in that, and I don’t mean it in a negative sense, but its nice, every so often, to go to somewhere where I am the norm.

When I got back to the wes earlier I noticed the neater eater had been fixed. I owe the maintenance guys a drink, it seems.

The footballers, however, are not off the hook.

I blame the footballers. I know it was one of the sports students anyway because only they are empty headed enough to do such a thing. My neater eater is broken. When I got into the wes for tea yesterday, I found the little metal cylinder which goes into the spoon bit had been turned around. Given it was okay at breakfast (I didn’t use it for lunch yesterday) I think someone has been fiddling with it.

Now, I know its being biased and irrational, but I just know it was one of the sports students. They seem to have the brains of Neanderthals. Come on, ‘studying sport’? how imaginative. It’s as if football in our society is the arbiter of masculinity – to be ‘a man’ you must like football. Well its not. Its just 22 overpaid fuckwits kicking a ball around a field. There’s nothing manly or clever about it: it’s just a moronic game which breeds a culture of morons. Morons who break neater eaters. looks like it’s back to ‘here comes the train’ for a while.

I just got the following from my friend eunice, from australia (the weather has been making me want to return there asap). if you ask me, she has it all wrong hampsters are a nice alternative to turkey.:

”A trio of nice local kids arrived at the door last night selling raffle tickets for the school. ‘The second prize is a hampster’, said the little girl aged around ten very importantly. We discussed costs and I filled in four tickets.. The second time she said the second prize was a hamster, I thought I had better disillusion her. ‘Hamper’, I said, ‘did you mean Xmas hamper. ‘Yes, hamster.’ ‘A Xmas hamper is full of food’. I said, ‘we wouldn’t want to eat a hamster!’ Her little face fell, and I felt really mean, like I had told her there was no Santa Claus, but better she knows that some people get more excited about a basket of goodies than a cute little furry, gerbillike creature as second prize. How lovely to be young again and think a hamster for a prize was the best thing in the world. I will be almost disappointed if we dont win one, and have to put up with bottles of wine, chocolates and Xmas pudding!”’

I hate hypocrites. How can the Tories talk about improving schools when, under them, millions of disabled kids would be left behind in seriously substandard special schools (haws that for alliteration). Today, over breakfast, I saw CaMoron’s on about creating new academy places. The bbc website reads: ‘The Conservatives say they will expand the number of academies in England to create at least 220,000 ”good school places” over the next nine years. The plans focus on almost 32,000 children in deprived areas, who appealed unsuccessfully against the secondary schools they were allocated. ‘

This may sound good, but then, its intended to: the Tories are desperate for sound bytes which appeal to the electorate. But when we remember their stance on inclusion, we see their education proposals for what they are: the maintenance of a tiered system, manifestly unfair, and designed, in fact, to take us back to the seventies! Is it not the case that the Tories want to see a return to grammar schools? Thus, despite their jingoism and pseudo-progressive language. Cameron’s Tories are no different from Thatcher’s or major’s, and no less deserving of the electorate’s distrust.

link

While articles on ouch are what I term ‘okay’ – usually well written, raising a few good points but otherwise unnoteworthy – this article from tom Shakespeare raises something of an odd irony. Shakespeare points out that, in a strange way, wars are good for disabled people because, afterwards, people feel guilty about ex-servicemen maimed in wars and therefore endeavour to improve accessibility. How ironic? Of course, he sys a lot of other things too, so I suggest you go read.

Another fairly relaxing weekend at home. I am really fortunate to have a uni so close to home: far enough away to evade my parents, close enough to call them if needed. This suits me: it gives me a taste of independence, but I know that, if I screw up – as I do every so often – I know I have their safety net. It is exactly what I need, and would encourage any fellow crips reading to put any stupid notions concerning pride aside and do something similar. Without this system, I wouldn’t be able to go to uni.

I think the furball is dead. The campus cat, brandy, has not moved from lying on a chair in reception for three days. Not even it can sleep for that long, so I say its dead. Mind you, Esther claims it blinked, so it might yet live.

It’s been a rough couple of days, really. All sorts of confusion over whether I’m allowed support for Thursday afternoons – my supervisor, Alan, asked me to attend his third year lecture, but now, three months into the course, the body which pays est to support me says I’m not entitled to cover for that/ I’m really finding al’s lectures this year useful – he seems to often adapt them specifically to suit me and I have already used some material from them in my thesis. However, I cannot attend these lectures without Esther’s help. I’m therefore a bit stuck and in short need to find another funding body. The M.A. itself seems to be going really well Alan seems to like what I’ve already produced, but I just wish everything could be sorted.

In some respects I’m jealous of Brandy: I wish I could fall asleep on my chair in reception for three days.

As an articulation of the problems faced by many disabled people, this video, by Georgina Studd, is first rate. To my mind, however, it is just a tad lachrymose, but then I could just be jealous. It won Channel 4’s FourDocs competition, where ten disadvantaged young people aged 13-19 were given the chance to write, direct and produce their own short documentary. In all, I guess its quite a neat little film, but if Georgina thinks bowlling’s fun, just wait till she gets to uni!

I demand to be rendered as a lump of plastic. Now! Why can’t I be made into a lump of placticine? It seems the fashionable thing for crips to do, now that ardman had made a collection of short animations on disability. The creators of Wallace and grommet, it seems, have been commissioned by the charity Leonard Cheshire to raise disability awareness. This, of course, interests me, both as a student of film and as a disabled person.

I have yet to see these films. I need to see them before I pass judgement. I’d like to train my analytical eye onto them; I wonder, too, what Alan would make of them.

For the time being, though, I think it’s a step in the right direction. Yes, I have a slight problem in the way it still renders disabled people as ‘other’ – the new characters are presented to the audience on their own, suggesting difference and separation – but the basic premise is correct. Awareness of disability must be heightened. If CaMoron’s about to ruin disability rights, this might represent a chance to salvage them.

link

I suppose all this research into cinephilia has brought out the cinephile in me. I’m becoming even geekier. Anyway, I was looking through the annals yesterday, and found a coincidence worth blogging. I’ve tentatively titled my thesis ‘the look of love’, for some obvious reasons. But get this: ‘the look of love’ by dusty Springfield was the theme song of the 1967 spoof casino royale! Hahaha.

It all goes back to bond!

Goddamn the fact I’m a liberal and believe in second chances. If I didn’t I’d have jumped on the return of Aitkin into the Tory fold like a ton of bricks. Fair enough, the man served his sentence, but he’s still a convicted liar. I just think it shows the Tory party for who they are: a bunch of crooks and liars. I missed CaMoron on parky on Saturday: I couldn’t stand to watch the smarmy little jackass try to ingratiate himself to the electorate. Friday’s ponderings on causality aside – I still maintain that, since absolute truth is unknowable, the human condition is to all intents and purposes chaotic* – I find it patently obvious that conservatism is a sham. Its designed to maintain the status quo, not improve society. CaMoron and co may prattle on about cleaning up society, about crime being up etc. they may pretend to care about society, but they only care about their selves. Conservatism seems to currently have two faces – the embracing of liberal ideas such as equality and social acceptance versus the attempt to maintain its traditional values. The two are incompatible, and the result is the obvious sham that is David CaMoron.

*I must say I agree with the conclusion Mark draws: ” I take issue with the idea that not being able to predict every action of every person means that the only valid approach is conservatism: in a broad sense, there are social and economic cause and effect, and these can be addressed by political action rather than laissez faire…” yet I’d maintain that one can never predict human action.

While I still maintain that conservatism, rather than being a true political philosophy,, is merely a set of id impulses (that is, it is focussed on the self) has it occurred to anyone else that postmodernism may have implications for politics? We learn from both Lyotard and Heisenberg that the truth is essentially unknowable; that cause and effect itself essentially depend on belief. Indeed, I suspect they too are symbolic constructs by which we make sense of the world. When all is said and done, we can never say absolutely whether one thing causes another.

Yet, being a sensible liberal, I believe, as social animals, humans exist in relation to one another. We are all part of a nexus which controls our actions. This is probably best illustrated when it comes to crime: liberalism states that, if someone commits a crime, it isn’t because they are ‘bad’ or evil, but the social sphere has driven them to a state that they need to commit crime.

Yet here we have a contradiction. If cause and effect are symbolic constructs, then we do indeed have free will. We might as well say criminals are evil because we cannot trace the spheres that lead him to the crime. I hope this makes sense. If the absolute truth is unknowable, then we exist in chaos; we are all free agents, and the symbolic sphere is irrelevant, just as conservatism says.

Oh bugger!

I guess I better blog bout this, even though I’m still rather shaken up by it. Yesterday afternoon I had a trip to Crewe, I had already finished my work and thought I’d just browse the shops. I found a rather cool store though where I bought Esther’s Christmas presents, then I decided to have around the town centre and found the war memorial. Apparently, there was some controversy over it – it was recently moved to another site. It looks fine where it is if you ask me. After I had finished looking at it I decided to head back to the bus station. I was about to cross over at a sharp bend and a car came round the corner. I’m not sure how it happened because it was too fast, but next thing I knew, I had hit it. My right footplate was broken and I was shook.

The driver got out and pretty soon other by standers came. I still don’t have my lightwriter; I didn’t know what was going to happen or how to talk to these people. I had my letter board, but I was shaken, to be honest it was the most scariest moment of my life. I couldn’t communicate for awhile. I realised I needed help so I gestured towards my bag and pointed towards the front pocket, hoping my address book was still in there. It was, and I got one of them to call Esther. Wednesday’s is her day off, but she lives in Crewe, not far from the centre of town, plus she understands me. She came down and was able to straighten out the driver of the car with my details and I gave him mine. The front left bumper of his car was rather scratched.

After that I went home with Esther. I was still rather shaken and scared and worried. She called my Dad to explain what had happened and Dad came over. Thank fuck I don’t live too far away, and thank fuck for Esther and her family. Dad put the wheelchair in the back of the van and took me back to campus. I must have the best parents ever.

In way, it is a serious set back to my independence. I don’t think I want to go out on my own again. Yet, on the other hand, the fact is I handled it: I got myself out of this pickle. Paradoxically, my confidence is both boosted and dented.

Last night was quite cool in the end. Bout 7.30 I was scouting about, wondering whether there was anything decent on at the arts centre – which there wasn’t – when I noticed them setting up for live music. I came back home, blogged and did a couple of chores, and headed back out about 8.30. Dan was organising it. His girlfriend, Vikki, graduated with me; she was there and we got chatting. It seems she now works at some kind of day centre for disabled people, running writing workshops. She explained to me how the ‘service users’ lack confidence. They constantly see barriers. Vicks told me about how she was trying to start a magazine with them, and asked me to write something positive for it.

Knowing today was going to be busy – I want 1000 more words on my thesis before lunch – I decided to go home to write. It only had to be short. I jotted the following:

” You often assume, being disabled, life will somehow be limited. You assume that many boundaries face you, and that you can never do the things your peers do. I one assumed this – I never thought I’d get to university, or have friends, or go on nights out. I was wrong, and it amuses me how wrong I was. I am now a graduate of Manchester metropolitan university, graduating with a first class honours degree, but there was a time when my parents were told I wouldn’t be able to do GCSEs. It would seem I have proved my teachers wrong.

As a masters student I live quite independently. I have Pas to help me get up in the morning, to help with meals, and to help with nights out. Boy, during my undergraduate years, I had some right laughs. I drank too much, often crashing my power chair. But then, that is basically what university is about – having fun. Being disabled does not exempt you from this. in fact, I found it made things more exciting.

With the right help, anyone can achieve anything. This is why, when Vikki asked me to write this short piece, I jumped at it. Disability does not connote boundaries. You, me anyone can achieve anything they put their mind to. The sky is the limit.’

I printed it off and sped back to the bar. Vikki smiled – I think I’m in her good books.

I was looking through the interweb thing just now. I sometimes read the blogs of fellow crips, one of whom is an American student with cp. I found this entry – it seems she found the Onevoice video we made. How cool is that. Its only fair that I link back to her.

Off to watch live music in the bar.

Today was quite good. Research took a new direction. In order to locate the essence of the cinephiliac moment, I realised it was necessary to find and analyse my own. I set to work writing a list of all the moments in the cinema which inspire me – mostly from bond, Jurassic park and star trek – and went hunting. Youtube is almost the perfect tool for that sort of research, for on it are short, memorable clips. I’ve set myself the task of writing 3000 by the end of the week on this part of the research, which will bring the total wordcount so far up to 10,000. I don’t think that’s bad going. I already got 1000 words down. What’s more, I love this type of analysis. Its perfectly suited for a cripple, plus I get to relive all my favourite moments in film! Yay!

Yesterday was a bit depressing. My first November 5th without fireworks. The fates conspired against it. I thought that there was going to be a bonfire on campus, but about mid-afternoon, I saw a sign on the main gate saying it had been moved to the plough. I reasoned that everyone would be going there, but no. when I asked ash and jen at teatime, they weren’t going. They were going to stay in the bar till Chris (jen’s boyfriend) escapes his work there and then they were going to his place. I didn’t think I was invited, so I went home after they left.

Oh well, I don’t think I can complain too much. If I had really wanted to see the fireworks, I’d have gone myself. Getting ready for bed last night, I remembered the last firework display I saw – arguably the best firework display in the world! It was in Sydney, on new years eve. Our hotel overlooked darling harbour, and we got a prime view of the festivities. It was there, too, that I got my first ever ‘proper’ martini, in a real martini glass. After you have seen that, you can’t really complain about missing a few fireworks.

Yet on top of that, the two people I stayed here to see did not appear. Both Emma and Steve were supposed to be on campus this weekend, but I saw neither hide nor hair of either of them. I suppose it’s my fault for not organising a time to meet, but both campus and, for that matter, alsager, are so small that I thought I’d just bump into either of them.

Oh well. Perhaps today will be more fruitful. I’ll wager Emma will be in the wes at lunch, and if I meet Steve I’ll ask him to dinner in the plough. Fireworks or not, life’s still fun.

Short of anything else to write about – too hungry to think of anything – here’s a link to the most recent ouch podcast. Enjoy. I’m off to get dinner

This week, I’ve found myself getting rather short tempered at my inability to communicate with people. it is really very frustrating, leading me to get snappy. Yet, when I step back and look at the problem objectively, it’s not so bad. I could just hide myself away until I get my lightwriter back, but this would be boring. For one, Emma and Steve might be coming down this weekend, and I won’t want to miss their return.

There are ways to communicate other than my lightwriter. If I need to make a request in the library, I type it out, print it off and hand it to the woman on the enquiry desk (I owe Mary a box of chocolates). These days, in order to evaluate if film has a contingency, I need to get my head round reception theory, and I’m thinking about requesting a tutorial with professor fisher (incidentally at graduation this was the fellow reading the names). I need to do this without the ability to talk. Do I wait till I get my lightwriter back? No, this would waste too much time. I’ll simply write him a letter explaining my predicament and my request. Naturally, he may be busy today, but the odds are he’ll fit me in sometime. Of course, I’ll do the tutorial with Esther with me – she understands my speech better than anyone these days.

Technology is cool, but it’s prone to break. Therefore, one must not become too dependent on it that one ceases to function without it. That would be boring!

There’s a nasty rumour that, rather than being an excuse to dress up and drink too much, some guys at university actually do research. What’s more, it appears they’ve found something. 3 planets circling stars outside our solar system. How cool is that? Esther sent me this link yesterday. Okay, forget archaeology, now I want to be an astronomer!

You know, perhaps I should have been an archaeologist. Then, instead of just moseying over to the wes to read or write, I could say cool stuff like ‘Pack your bags, est, we’re off to hunt for crystal skulls.’ Then we could go on adventures instead of just hanging around rainy old alsager. I’d need a cool name, something like…Indiana!

Mind you, real archaeology, fascinating though it is, mostly concerns digging holes rather than going on adventures. Nevertheless, from what I read, there really have been figures like dr. Henry ‘Indiana’ Jones – Belzoni etc – which is probably why this video has me jumping up and down with excitement. I cant wait,

Yes, yes, I know I’m getting very lax at updating this thing. I used to try to do it every day, but these days that is proving difficult. I’m busier than I was; or, perhaps, lazier.

Anyway, after the party Saturday night I went home yesterday for Sunday lunch and Palin. Saturday night was great – jen and ash throw great parties, although I tended to ignore their so-called rules (for example, you couldn’t say ‘drink’). Mayer seemed thoroughly bemused by it all, although I think he had a good time.

However, I think my lightwriter needs replacing. It’s refusing to take charge. Mind you, it is about eight. Dad has suggested I look into getting a new model of VOCA, which is a very interesting idea. I’m considering opting for a minspeak system – not only do I hear it’s faster, but it would be interesting to learn what is essentially a new language. Any suggestions on this subject would .be greatly appreciated.

Sorry about there being no bloggage yesterday. Thing is, nothing interesting happened; well, not until the end at least. Dr. fair delivered a most interesting refresher lecture on Lacan, and I instantly heard alarm bells ring. His concept of ‘the real’ disrupting the symbolic order is very similar, to me at least, to the barthesian idea of the punctum and the Kathleen idea of the cinephiliac moment. Of course, I need to read up on Lacan, but now I know where to go next with my MA. To be honest, I’m having great fun engaging with the various arguments. I have 5000 words down already.

Adding to it, however, might have to wait till Sunday or Monday. Tomorrow I have a post grad meeting up in Manchester from 9 till 3 (why does it have to be a Saturday) then, in the evening, jen and ash are throwing a Halloween party. This promises to be great fun: a few of my old year might be coming, and it will be great to see them. What’s more, I think Mayer’s coming! If he does, it will be great – I’d love to show him campus, and all my friends here. Kind of like my old world meets my new world. I think I’ll try to encourage him to come to university; I see no reason why that wouldn’t be possible – he’s just as clever as I am. I suspect, too, that film would suit him, as would acting, perhaps. Anyway I’ll discuss it with him. It would be great to catch up. Mind you, what he says when he sees what I’m wearing tomorrow night I dread to think.

Cripes its twenty to ten already. Better get busy. Much to organise!

A few days ago, ash showed me this. it’s like sesame street, but cool. I agree with their sentiments exactly! Hehehe

[nsfw]

I was wrong! Totally, gloriously wrong!

Today I once again started the hunt for my friends. It has been eight months or so since I went looking for Richard, and, since then I have been too scared to go looking for the rest of my friends from school. I was scared that I’d only find more sorrow. But today, having added quite a bit too my thesis and finding myself in need of a stroll, I tapped the name ‘lee mayer’ into the online phone book, and finding one in Crewe, decided to go a-hunting.

I printed map, caught the 20, and was on my way, nervous at what I might find. The map lead me straight to the place with only a little hassle. I rolled up to the door, and knocked. At first I thought I had the wrong place, for this guy with a beard answered. Mayer, it seems, needs a shave.

After he accused me, in jest, of stalking him, we spent the afternoon chatting. I had to leave all too soon, but I was pleased to hear donno and phill are still very much about, although the latter is, in Mayer’s words, ‘still fat’. Anyway, it was great to see him, and hopefully he’ll come to visit me on campus soon. Yay!

Sorry I haven’t updated this site since Thursday. on Friday, I was busy, then I was home for the weekend where my pc isn’t set up. Blogging is my addiction (well, one of three or four, actually) and I stat feeling guilty if I can’t do it every day or so. I’m not sure why, but it’s not dissimilar to my compulsion to show off.

Anyway, while I was at home, I found that the most recent issue of Speak Out had been delivered. This is the one voice magazine. This edition carried news of mine and Katie’s graduation successes, as well as a report of the gospel choir donation, which, if I bump into them, I’ll show Dom and the head of music. It gave me great pride in reading of everyone’s successes.

There was,, however, one thing which I’m not entirely sure about. Far be it for me to begrudge a fellow cripples success – I am, after all, just a pseudo-intellectual whizzing around campus talking bollox about Lacan – but I’m not too keen on Toby’s business. He goes into schools talking about disability. From what I can gather, he gives talks and demonstrations to school children on disability and social acceptance. Now, I’m all for such things, especially about raising awareness of disability among kids. I just think A) there are better ways to achieve such things and B) that Toby’s approach may be counter productive. To me, to go into schools and say ‘look at me, I have cp’ smacks of tokenism (as dr. West-Burnham recently pointed out). It reminds me of a zoo: ‘look, I have an iguana and a cripple to show you today, kids’. It is far better to actually teach disabled kids alongside able-bodied kids: this way, the lesions will be much longer-lasting. Moreover, Toby’s approach will in fact re-enforce ideas of difference: by setting himself up as a ‘special event’, he is in Marxist language fettishising himself. I admit I had similar ideas once, but there was always this worry that I might turn myself into a three ring circus. To the kids he talks to, disability will be seen as a rarity, something uncommon to be explored. In short, freakish. I really don’t like this sort of tokenism, and fear it may be doing more harm than good.

Thursdays are always long. I have a 4 to 7 film lecture in Crewe, which really knackers me. I’m shattered and intend to hit the hay right after posting this. anyway, earlier today, during breakfast, I was watching bbc news. They had a piece about this years turner prize candidates, one of which was simply a piece of wood stretched across the corridor. Now, writers contexts 3 last year gave me a better appreciation of fine art, but this piece just struck me as stupid. Obviously, it would be impossible to get a wheelchair over it (I presume your meant to step over it) and hence in terms of meaning it was virtually a sign saying ‘no cripples’. Did anyone else notice it, or am I misreading it? I’ll ask professor fisher next time I see him.