Gad to see this is finally posted on youtube. It’s the music video we made at 1voice. Well, I say ‘we’ – the young people made it. I didn’t do too much. Nevertheless, I am proud of it. They all worked damn hard to make it, but I think they all had fun too.

One of the recurrent themes in the song is Beth’s enunciation: my voice is my power. I’ve been mulling over this principal quite a bit recently. I agree – to have power, to have the ability to control what goes on, one must have the ability to communicate.. the problem is that society demands we must communicate through certain means in certain, often limited means. I am communicating to you now. I can do this only because I have two things: first, I have literacy skills enough to access the words. Second, I have an expanded keyboard, so that, despite my cp, I can type up my thoughts. Only with these two things can I communicate to you. Only with these two things can I tell you that its currently raining here, or that dad’s taken apart the rooter, or that I miss my university friends, Katie, my brothers and everyone very much. The same applies to natural voices and vocas – it’s interesting how often overlook and undervalue the ability to communicate. It, in actuality, is everything. Our voices are our power.

Ghandi is on later today. Its interesting that he freed India, not through violence, but through words. His voice truly was powerful. This is why his speeches, like those of dr. King, live on through time. The ability to communicate is greater than any other ability I can think of.

The Tories have today announced a proposal to cut inheritance tax were they to become the next government. I greet this news with a sigh. Its abundantly clear that, despite wanting to appear centrist, this proposal appeals predominantly to the rich, and thus reveals the rightist substructure of the Tory party. I say again: beneath this veneer of friendliness lies the same bunch of moronic pseudo-fascists we had in the 80s. mind you, it is ironic that this cut will now appeal to more people due to the benefits of a labour government. More people are above the lower threshold for this tax due to the fact that we are, for the most part, considerably more wealthy than we were before 97. in effect, the Tories are riding on Labour’s successes. Are these the actions of a nice trustworthy party or a bunch of liars and sneakthiefs?

its been a bit of a dull day. well, dull for me: the a-level results are at their highest, and, apparently, we’re heading for a recession or depression. summit like that. if I had my way, we’d do away with economics – the stock market is a load of men in suits feeling more important than they actually are. I mean, its just a form of gambling.

thinking of something to write about is hard sometimes. Now, I know I said no more crap from youtube but this is better crap than most. youtube has produced a rather cool democratisation of film, don’t you think?

I keep going in circles with research. Mind you, I haven’t been doing enough of that; summer always makes me lazy. I sit down to read, and read for perhaps 30 to 60 minutes, then my mind wanders. Its interesting stuff – I like the boardwellian/formalist approach, but how do you unite that detailed close textual analysis and grammatical analysis with ideas of scoppophilia? Its not enough to detail the on screen structures. I wanna know why they work, almost. I guess I should read more, but, as I say, my mind wonders.

My shortening attention span aside, I still love learning. I love examining stuff, arguing a point. I guess this is, in part, why I keep a blog. I think I have my family to blame for this, especially my parents. They have been very supportive. They’re a pair of bibliophiles, really. Incidentally, dad finished reading to mum and myself Deathly Hallows last night, but I’ll refrain from saying anything about it for fear of spoiling it for anyone yet to finish. My family is thus an academic one, and it is largely (but not solely) the environment which I grew up in that ensured my success.

There were other forces in play, of course: the fact that I love learning helped, as well as the fact that I saw college, university, and to a certain extent school as positive environments. These factors came together, and what had once seemed impossible was proved possible. The barriers to my entrance to uni fell quite easily all that was needed was my lightwriter, wheelchairs, electric door-opener, Pas and so on – physical things to overcome physical problems.

That, however, is what I’m now becoming concerned about. Before now, I’ve seen inclusively as mostly a physical problem, and I’m becoming aware this is too simplistic. Inclusion, for the likes of me, is relatively easily achieved, but it must not stop at me. I was talking to an old friend of mine last night; he used to be my LSA at Mac. He still works there, and he told me how he works with kids with ‘behavioural difficulties’ and so forth. During our conversation, over msn, I realised how little I know about that side of inclusion, and this struck me as a problem. Of course, I speak on my blog from a personal perspective (that of a white, middle class suburban man). If I truly care about inclusion beyond my own, and if I believe education must be for all, I should not ignore such issues. To a certain extent, the inclusion of kids with purely physical disabilities is just the tip of the iceberg. I must admit, too, that it kind of fascinates me.

My friend and I decided to hook up. According to him, these kids had low self esteem, which is a major cause of their problems. He suggested it could help if I went in to meet these kids; naturally, I’d be honoured – perhaps these kids just need some role models, or someone to show them how bril life in academia is, both mentally and socially. I also think such a scheme would also further my knowledge of the inclusion debate. However, now I have yet more research to do.

The DVD recording of my graduation ceremony came today. That was a very emotional day – undoubtedly one of the happiest days of my life – and I am glad we got the DVD to commemorate it. Such things serve as anchors, fixing us to the past. I look at the photos and remember, with great fondness, what has been; yet they also make me wonder what is yet to come. Not just for me, but for those like me.

University, as I have said before, was the greatest experience of my life, and with luck it will continue into my masters. Yet I was lucky. If my parents had left it to school, I would never have done GCSEs, let alone A-levels. Well, to qualify that, they would have put me in for the foundation GCSE, where the top grade is a D. they would have described me as incapable of doing anything higher. My parents, of course, thought otherwise, and the DVD downstairs, as well as the photographs of me in my cap and gown, are testimony to their confidence and bloody mindedness.

I hope dad doesn’t mind me writing this, but I think it fair to say that my father did not like my headmaster. As I wasn’t at all the meetings, I cannot relay all the details, but the discussions over my future apparently got quite heated. Neither of my parents liked school, and always maintained that I wasn’t being pushed enough. Indeed, my brothers referred to Hebden as ‘day-care’. As much as I protested at the time, I see now that mark and Luke were just about right. Schools like that virtually are day-care: holding places for disabled children. Staff were caring enough, but they didn’t push kids. They did not foster any kind of motivation to learn quite the opposite, in fact. We were just allowed to play.

It was all bullshit. Kids were pushed into doing these so-called vocational, ‘ASDAN’ qualifications at post-16. according to the aimhigher website, ‘It is the principal vehicle in the ASDAN Aimhigher HEFC national project for raising attainment, developing more independent and autonomous learners, and widening participation amongst the national priority target groups….The certificate has been calibrated by DFES as an equivalent to a Grade ‘B’ GCSE at level 2 achievement (46 points), as an equivalent to a Grade ‘E/F’ GCSE at level 1(25 points),and as an AS level equivalent at level 3. This means it can contribute to raising schools’ average points scores.’ (source) now, in itself this appears to be okay – ordinary schools might use such qualifications to supplement more mainstream qualifications. I see no problem with this. however, it was all Hebden was using. Such certificates, in my experience, are totally lacking in academic rigour. In terms of such rigour, it is often seen that the A-level is closer to bachelor than GCSE level; qualifications like ASDAN are the opposite. Indeed, the way school ran them, they were simply an exercise in copying and pasting, seeing how little work staff could make the kids do. In fact, I do not recall any student on that course having to do an extended piece of prose. Thus, while I was going to Woodford lodge, trying to do my English lit A-Level (and making a hash of it I must add for the sake of fairness) the guys in my class as well as the one above us were doing this asdan bull and drinking coffee.

The guys with md were doing GNVQ art, mind, which is a bit better, but it was still taught in the same half-assed way, lacking in both passion and rigour. In the bungalow, lessons were squeezed between coffee breaks. I think that is why I struggled at macc college: when I finally got into a proper educational establishment, where students were expected to work, I didn’t cope well. I was also completely unaccustomed to the academic mindset, with argument and counter argument. I liked cold, hard facts rather than models and hypotheses. Hebden had not prepared me at all for that.

Special schools foster neither a thirst for knowledge, nor ambition. You are simply supposed to accept one’s place in life, and let staff delude you that they’re giving you a good education when they aren’t. I’ll have to go into the reasons for this at some other time, for they are complex and manifold, but nowI have a DVD to watch, again.

I know I said on Friday that I wasn’t going to post any more random stuff from youtube, but this, of course, isn’t random. It’s the first part of a documentary about a guy with ‘cognitive impairment’ going to university in the states. My initial reaction is a mixture of curiosity and ‘why the fuck not’? why shouldn’t all mean all? Anyway, go watch.

Oh what fun we had this weekend. I’m too tired (make that knackered) to write a full account now, as we had quite an adventure. One high point was getting a flat tire on my way to my brother’s on Friday night, and having to drive at 50mph for about 200 miles. I decided the best way to get through that was to fall asleep. However, special mention must be made of George, the keeper of the guest house at Bowburn, who was extremely concerned and caring; he’s a top guy, and not only that – he makes excellent breakfasts!

Other than the flat tire, the weekend went without a hitch. My brother is, of course, worrying himself silly about moving to Paris, but is otherwise fine. It was good to see him. Had some excellent food, a good beer or two. Now, though, I just want to rest.

Every time I go away, even for two or three days, I come back to find the world and his wife are after me. I had 15 messages in my inbox just now *- I don’t usually get that many over that period. It’s a conspiracy! We’re going up to Durham this weekend for my brothers birthday – I wonder how my emails will be waiting or me when I get back on Sunday/

Although it was unfortunate that I missed the invitation for a trip to Tatton with the joneses, and I regret not being able to meet Chris, charlottes cousin with cp, I have spent a most excellent three days in Wales. I went with dad – we both go stir crazy sitting around the house. We share a mutual passion for just moving, either walking, wheeling or driving. It gives you time to think, talk, or listen to the radio. I must say I got quite engrossed in a serial drama on woman’s hour about a guy in India on a version of ‘who wants to be a millionaire’. I had great fun with the gps too.

Most of all, though, I love the countryside. I love to see things I haven’t seen before. Wales is quite beautiful, often astonishing in its ruggedness. The only way to see a place is to drive all over it, and this we did, setting off on Wednesday morning, going south, heading to Cardiff, thence west. Evening on Wednesday found us at the Beggars Reach inn, near Milford haven. There’s a pub near there, the jolly sailor, overlooking the harbour. It was quite quite beautiful.

The following morning, after a hearty breakfast, we drove north along the western coast of Wales, then up into the hills. I kept looking at the map, which gave me a better idea of the geography. We stopped at Aberystwyth, then drove further north to Anglesey, then back onto the mainland, finally stopping last night at an old coaching house on the A5.

It didn’t really feel as if we were going far, and yet we covered a hell of a distance in the last few days. I didn’t feel as if we were spending much time in the car, but we were. It was just fun. It gave me a chance to decide on a few things: firstly, I think I need to read more film theory, particularly that relating to psychoanalysis. In short, I too need to return to Freud. Secondly, after discussing it with dad, I’ll now be more focussed in my blog entries; writing about my day to day activities is good as it hopefully gives readers an idea of what life is like for a disabled person. Yet, at the same time, surely reading of the activities of some post adolescent cripple with a taste for frocks, parties and real ale gets dull after a while, so I intend to focus more on doing something more akin to editorial journalism from now on. Actually commenting on disability life, culture and politics. Mind you, there will still be room for the odd ‘what I got up to last night’ entry, but from now on you will have to find your own crap on youtube.

We got back, after taking the long way home, just before midday. Right. Time to repack for Durham.

It is fair to say I’m pretty hacked off this morning. Yesterday was Scott’s birthday. Scott, who took drama at uni, is quite a good friend of mine, and I rather like his sense of humour. I heard from rocky that they were going to Yates’s, in Hanley, last night, and agreed to meet her there. I still don’t have a PA, so I got mum and dad to drive me over. En route, it began bucketing down. We’re talking monsoon here. Thus, when we got to the place, after missing it the first time, there was no sign of rocky or any of my friends, only some dombass at the door who took the piss when me and dad walked in.

We waited in the rain. It was raining, and we had left mum in the car, so we couldn’t really wait long. Besides, it was possible that they’d called it off due to the monsoon. My biggest mistake of the evening was not bringing Rocky’s number. After ten or fifteen minute, we headed back to the car,

Dad phoned rocky when we got home. It seems we’d just missed each other. It’s extremely annoying – I want to see my friends; I want to go for nights out with them. It’s nobody’s fault, of course, except mine: had I picked up Rocky’s phone number from the kitchen table, dad could have called her when we were outside the pub. Ho hum. I’m sure there will be many more such occasions; it’s just frustrating, and rather sad.

short of anyth,ing better to write about – the highlight of the day being the aquisition of two frames for my graduation photos – I found this articcle to show you. this guy thinks he can make a time machine by ccoiling light. If you ask me, and I’m no physicist (even if I use a VOCA) he’s nuts, but it’s an interestting read.

Anyway, all being well, I’m off out later for a night in handley with a gfew uni mates. It’s Sccotts birthday. I’ve been home for a wile, so I can’t wait!

today I’ll post a link to this, a very witty, observant list of 74 ways to annoy a cripple, written by my friend simon stevens. I hope to be working on a book with simon in the not too distant future. Judging from this list, it should be a very rewarding process indeed.

something very cool has happened, if not sub zero in fact. Mum has a new recipe book. now, anyone who knows my mother, and the contents of the kitchen, will know that this in and of itself is nothing special. What is special is the fact that the book in question was made using contributions from people who work at mum’s company, and the fact that they chose to donate the proceeds to two charities: cancer research and Onevoice. How cool is that? It’s as cool as when Charlie told me the donations from the gospel choir concert were going to Onevoice. It’s bloody brilliant.

Thanks to mum and everyone at Acumed global. You are amazing!

This afternoon I put together this small video. Its just my tribute to my friends at uni. I love them all dearly. I hope they, and you, like it

My parents and I went to see the new Harry potter film last night. It was either this or the Simpson’s. I think we made the right choice: although I haven’t seen the film, I’m reticent about the Simpson’s film. I think that it is best suited for the 25 minute slot. Mind you I still want to see that movie (note I don’t say film – I reserve that term for a work of art of a single auteur. Stuff like the Simpson’s isn’t really art in that sense).

Harry potter and the order of the phoenix is a treat. Its dark and gripping. Although its billed as a kids movie, and there’s stuff in there for children, I think it is now more appropriate to think of them as adult movies. We’re reading the latest novel at the mo, and there are definitely allusions to things such as Nazism and the holocaust. And it is truly dark. Rowling may have began the potter series as sugary sweet escapism, but that sugar has steadily fermented into something far more potent. In OOTP, we see Harry become a man, and general no less. Although this may have been a bit clich, I found him extremely convincing: this angry, disturbed young man essentially alone in the world. It was as powerful as star wars, and I kind of want it to be accompanied by some grandiose overture like the Jedi music! I’m sure the potter films will now be just as immortal as Lucas’s masterpiece, for this is stuff that really grips the soul. I also think Daniel radcliffe has grown into a fine actor – he’s finally stopped being that snotnosed little kid who irritated me. The same goes with the supporting cast.

With two more films to go, these films are becoming as immortal as the books. What we’ll ever do if and when jk Rowling retires I dread to think.

I have been out again in defiant. I went for a long drive, through the park, into town and back via the lanes. Long drives give me a chance to think, analyse, and reflect on my values. Yesterdayafternoon, I was pondering university, as usual, and specifically the people I met there.

University definitely made me more liberal. Well, perhaps its more accurate to say it drew my liberalism into sharper focus. Before uni, I was very liberal, but I still had certain biases against certain activities. It wasn’t until I actually met people who indulged in certain activities that these biases were questioned.

Take the example of drugs. The usual standpoint is that all recreational drugs are bad; I used to think this, before I actually pondered it. I realised, of course, that there are reasons why people take drugs (usually ultimately concerned with discontent with the status quo). One also realises the inconsistencies in society’s attitude towards drugs: why is it that people are allowed to smoke tobacco or drink beer, but not take weed? Tobacco causes cancer, alcohol is also very dangerous. I like my beer, so is it not hypocritical for me to criticise anyone for smoking cigarettes or joints? Back at school, I used to get uptight at my friends who smoked, but then I realised precisely why they showed such disregard for getting lung cancer: life would be too short.

And life is way too short to get uptight. If my friends take joy from smoking, let them. We only have one life to lead, one body to control, surely if it isn’t hurting anyone else, why do we all get so uptight about people doing what they want to do? Passive smoking hurts others, which is why I support the pub smoking ban, but in their own homes, or if it doesn’t hurt anyone else, why can’t society tolerate such activities? No doubt there can be some harmful consequences from such activities, but I have only observed the positive consequences – people having fun, feeling mellow and being happy. I’m informed that the harm comes from ‘bad batches’, which would suggest to me a need for legalisation and regulation of such substances. Bring it away from the underground; this way, at least, the problem of drug crime can be irradiated.

Now, I don’t smoke for physical reasons, and drugs are a pain to procure, so I just stick to alcohol. This does not mean I’ll disassociate myself from friends who do such things? Why would I? same goes with my gay friends (up until 30 years ago, homosexuality was illegal). Humanity is wonderful in that it comes in all shapes and sizes – this is all part of that diversity. Naturally, one must always be careful, but my point is that uni made me question my stereotypical views. There were many people there, from all walks of life. My point is that uni made me more accepting of others and it made me appreciate the diversity of life.

CaMoron claims society is broken; what he, for the most part, means is that it does not conform to his narrow stereotype of what society should be. I just think society is changing as people explore new ways of living. Exploration can only be good. Thus, I say live and let live, and see what happens. I value diversity and acceptance, now more than ever. The Tories seem to want everybody to conform to their rather narrow view of what life should be like. Despite the fact that they use the language of tolerance these days, this seems meaningless rhetoric when their leader speaks of wanting to mend a broken society.

Naturally, tolerance can only be part of the issue. Things like domestic violence and burglary cannot just be accepted, and so need to be addressed. But, unlike most conservatives, I think it is wrong simply to dismiss perpetrators of such activities as simply evil or bad. Behind every action there is a reason. I’m not completely dismissing free will, but I don’t think our actions come wholly from choke. Behind every action there is a reason, or else all human action will be chaotic. Therefore, I say it is better to take an accepting approach, and try to understand why people may turn to crime with a view to addressing the root causes. After all, simply to lock people up who ever did anything wrong would be a waste of human resources.

Moreover, what is ‘wrong’? 40 years ago, homosexuality was wrong! Am I wrong for liking to wear girls clothes. Back on campus nobody batted an eyelid when I did that, or when we went through the sports hall in zentai suits. Campus, of course, is a very liberal environment, as I say; students are very open, and accepting. After all, there is no logical reason why anyone should be offended or object to such activity. If only the world was like a university campus.

I guess this is all pretty boilerplate and obvious. I’m just attempting to establish my views on the subject. I may, of course, be setting up a straw man, but my gut says that the Tory’s attempt to appear liberal, and to take the centre ground are just a sham. Historically, they are the party of iliberalism and intolerance. If we look beneath the rhetoric, they are just the same old conservative party, wanting everybody to conform to their narrow values, resenting difference and unwilling to look deeper than the black and white, right and wrong.

this reminds me of the time I tried to roll down the mound behind school on a rolator, and ended up in hospital. go watch

My parents bedroom is next to mine. In the mornings, I can hear their radio. This is good because I can listen to the today program as I dress. They also have it on in the kitchen, while we eat breakfast. This morning I caught the end of the 7am bulletin – it did not start my day well.

The Tories have launched their education policy. They describe inclusion as disastrous. This, needless to say, made me swear out loud. Those bunch of morons do not realise the damage special schools do. they would rather disabled kids be taught in special schools, but do not realise the damage such schools do. I find their approach to the whole subject condescending and patronising, for they would rather listen to a few idiotic parents wanting to protect their little diddums rather than the survivors of such schools. I whish I could show them what happens at such schools. I want to show them all of it. Some liken it to torture.

Despite many years at Hebden, I, in part at least, see myself as a product of inclusion. My best achievements were those that Hebden had very little hand in – GCSE English at Woodford lodge, A-levels at maccc and south Cheshire college, and my crowning achievement – my first class degree. These were all situations where I was included, especially at university where it’s hard to see how I could have been included more. I was speaking to the brother of an old school friend of mine, about to start his degree. He was saying about how his little bro was concerned he was going to be bullied or ostracised at uni. I too once had such fears; I told him how I cried my eyes out the first night at university, but on the second night found brandies and never felt homesick again. I was never once bullied, simply accepted for who I was (leotards, dresses, lightwriters and all). I have written here before about how, at university, I have met friends I never want to lose contact with, and made memories I never want to forget. I told him about the good times – about Newquay, and brandies discos. Its funny how wrong I was once about being accepted. The advantages of getting past such an assumption are huge, for I now feel more confident than ever: weekends away are nothing, nights out rule! What once seemed huge hurdles are now nothing – all I need, more often than not is a p.a (and/or a few good friends*), my lightwriter, cash for beer, and my toothbrush. The sky is the limit.

All this stems from inclusion. The psychological effects of being included allow one to see that one is, in effect, no different to anyone else. On the other hand, being segregated reinforces the idea that one is different. One thus thinks one is limited. Often, kids are told that they won’t be able to do gcses etc, and hence are taught to accept a place in life ultimately below their potential, and ultimately not as happy a one as it may have been. Looking back over the last three years, and reflecting that some kids may be being denied such experiences because of the misconceptions and biases of the powers that be – often parents and special school teachers – ii feel my blood boil. Inclusion must proceed.

Inclusion, mind, not integration. There is a difference, and an important one, as it is the stumbling block for many people. it can be explained thus: imagine a circle on

a piece of paper. There’s a dot just outside the circle. Integration means moving the dot to inside the circle, whereas inclusion means expanding the circle to accommodate the dot. What people object to is integration: just to dump the dot inside the circle is wrong. Just to dump a kid with SEN inside a mainstream school without any support is wrong. If that had happened to me, I strongly suspect things would have been very different. However, if we expand the circle so the education system can accommodate the needs of all kids, everybody will benefit. I believe this is what happened to me, especially at university: with every adaptation, every electric key fob, expanded keyboard and box of straws behind the bar in brandies, the radius was enlarged. Mind you, I think when it comes to people this circle expanded naturally. People, especially students, are very accepting: not once did I feel fundamentally different. If this red shift occurred at university, it can sure as hell happen in schools.

The Tories are therefore grossly misguided, and must be stopped. It is segregation, not inclusion, which is the disaster. I saw it’s effects first hand, and have felt them. I once felt different and alien; I once pitied myself. I will not allow the Tories to return us to the dark days of segregation, with kids being given a second rate, half assed education; with kids being stood for so long that they fainted; with classmates being illiterate age 16; with having to watch half your classmates wilt and fail. I will not allow the return of such things to appease a few overprotective parents. Inclusion must proceed.

*this reminds me, need to sort out getting my crippled butt to Portsmouth for john’s party. Need to go to see Kate too

I hope it not too optimistic of me to say that summer seems finally to be here. At last bright sunshine is streaming through my bedroom window, and there is blue sky. It may be breezy, but it is sunny enough for beer on the patio. My parents and I went to arley hall this morning, for a walk around the gardens. It was nice. Great for bombing around on one’s electric wheelchair. I’ve been stuck inside for the past few weeks, but now dad’s home, and the weather is better, I can get out more. The gardens there are beautiful, and huge. There are many winding paths to follow.

On the way back we played pub cricket, and then had a beer on the patio while reading a very interesting article in the culture section of the Sunday times on westerns. With my degree, the memories it brought with it, and with my friends just the other side of email or facebook, life cant get much better. Bring on the summer.

I would be willing to wager that most of the country is reading one book. famously, it was said once of Tolkien’s books: the world is divided between those who are reading Lord of the Rings and those who are going to read it. No doubt the same can be said of the final Harry potter book. everyone is reading them, intending to read them, or waiting for them to be made into films.

Amazingly for something so new, Harry has become part of our culture. Everyone I know, adults and kids alike, is familiar with these characters and stories, and they have only been around 7 or 8 years. This is especially noteworthy at a time when kids are turning away from traditional occupations such as reading in favour of computer games, although, needless to say, potter is now also available in game form.

Now, I love these books as much as anyone; dad was reading them to us earlier and they seem to have great power. Forgive the pun, but they’re quite magical. I agree that they’re getting progressively darker too. However, I raise my eyebrow at the fact that jk Rowling is now in quite an enviable position. The world is reading her books, hanging off every word. She, it seems to me, now wields some considerable power.

Everything, every piece of art, is created to express ideas or a meaning. Everything is political, including, or perhaps especially prose fiction. books – ell books express a political view. Now, I have no problem with what Rowling is saying; indeed, I agree with most of what she says (overt or implicit), yet the fact remains Rowling has all our ears. She has everyone’s attention, and is able to argue whatever she wishes to an audience the size of which is without precedent. I hope it not too facetious of me to compare the potter series to the bible, for with it’s huge readership comes monumental power. Although this is testament to her skill, and also to the power of literature, we must never lose sight of the fact that such power can be abused. As moody warns: constant vigilance.

I’m posting this and dedicating it to all the flood victims.

Oh, how I love living up a hill.

I’ve been looking at facebook a lot lately. Most of my friends are on there, and the photos they post contain many wonderful memories for me: events like Newquay, the last brandies, graduation. I love looking at them, which is why I have many such photographs on my bedroom wall, but I do feel that me and cameras don’t mix! In most such photos my eyes seem firmly shut. Leaving aside the pictures where I am in fact asleep, whenever the camera comes near me I get the irresistible compulsion to close my eyes. I do not like doing this as I feel it ruins an otherwise brilliant photo – one which my friends also cherish – but I don’t think I can help it. It seems to be my natural reaction to cameras.

The problem is cameras make me self-conscious: every time a camera is pointed at me, all my attention is diverted to looking good. My face tenses, and I try to grin (I usually end up showing to much teeth). As a result, my eyes often close. Well, I think that’s how it works. Don’t get me wrong – I adore these pictures. Rocky gave me one of her, me and Vikki in brandies which is now pinned to my wall; on facebook, there is one of me and Emma I especially like; of course, there are the framed photos Charlie gave too me for my birthday, which I love. It’s just that photos rarely seem to get my good side.

I tapped mmu into youtube, and found this. not too clever, are they? rofl

One of the best things about being a film student is you can watch films without feeling guilty about wasting time watching films. Most afternoon TV is crap, but this afternoon on channel 4 was something of a gem – Powell and Pressburger’s ‘A matter of life and Death’. A lot of my final film essay was on p+p, but that particular film I hadn’t yet seem. Stylistically, you could tell it was theirs. It is very British, almost patriotic. Rather sentimental. Very sweet. In all a good, solid film though. Need to watch all the films I can for my masters! [great excuse, innit?]

The house is quiet again. Everyone left this morning. I’m just pottering about, doing this and that. I may start the final hary potter book, or just watch Jeremy Kyle, later. I should also do some research, I know, but it’s (nominally) summer, and I reckon I can chill a bit.

Oddly enough, broadly my area of research is on the news, or perhaps is the news. I am interested in filmic semiotics and grammatics – that is, how moving images can be manipulated in order to change their meaning. As we all know, the bbc is currently in trouble for changing the order of shots so that they convey a different meaning. They have, in short, turned fact into fiction. this, to me, is utterly indefensible: we look to the bbc for fairness and accuracy. Can we still trust the bbc? I’m not sure.

However, I am sure that it’s not only auntie’s problem. If this happens at the bbc, why not itv or sky. I daresay it’s only because of the way in which the bbc is funded that this problem was found. I was reading the Sunday times yesterday, and found Rod Liddle’s article on the subject. While liddle makes some good points, the article was glib, poorly written and sneering. The Sunday times, of course, is owned by Rupert Murdoch; this makes me very angry. For the owner of fox, the most biased news organisation since Goebells, to mount such an attack on the bbc, seems hypocritical to say the least. I also dislike the way conservatives dislike the bbc because it doesn’t reflect their values. All this means is that the bbc is open minded and unbiased. If the bbc was changed to reflect ‘their values’ we would get a highly distorted view of the world.

Yes, the bbc is liberal, but all liberality means is fairness and open-mindedness. To be as accurate and objective, one must present all side of the story. Only then can one know the truth. Given that the world can only be observed by human eyes, and there is no independent, omniscient observer, objective truth is a myth. There is only a plethora of observing-positions and therefore values. All values are valid. Surely, any news corporation should embrace this.

The bbc, in it’s liberality, does this usually. This is why it was the most trusted news broadcaster on earth. Is this still true? I’m no longer sure.

There are lots of smells in the house today, and for once they don’t all come from me. My parents have put new air fresheners throughout the place, and were roasting about half a pig earlier. As I said before, much of my family was here this weekend: my brothers have already left, and my uncle, aunt and cousins go tomorrow morning. For the most part, the weekend was spent sitting and talking, eating, or playing gonga. This is a card game; I can’t handle cards, so I just watch and sip beer. It is noteworthy, probably, that I increasingly choose to use my lightwriter to talk to guests. This is not because my speech has got worse, but I prefer to use ‘Colin’ (as my uni mates christened my voca). It feels as if I can be more fluent and precise, without having to have a third party to translate. I increasingly see my lightwriter as part of my identity; I’m proud of it.

Anyway, bedtime is near. It’s been a cool weekend, and I hope to see all my extended family again soon.

My family are here this weekend. Luke, mark and Kat, Cyril (who has stayed since Thursday) Alexander and his parents, uncle rich and aunt toula. Thus, all bar one of my maternal cousins and siblings are here,, and Chris’ll get here tonight! The house is fairly full, and we have much to celebrate. Indeed, taking pride of place on the sideboard in the conservatory is a photo of me in my cap and gown. On top of this there’s Cyril’s degree and mark’s doctorate to drink to! It really is quite cool.

Now here’s an idea…right, I’m off to teach my cousins and brothers about Cat empire!

Yesterday was probably one of the best of my life. What can I say about it? Yes, I can write here about what a long road its been, how my parents were once told that I’d never be able to do GCSEs, etc etc. I don’t feel like writing that today though. I just want to record what a brilliant day (and night) it was. Question is, where to begin?

Luke, I think, was right. At mark’s ceremony, we were discussing the correct music to be played. He suggested the imperial march from star wars. I agree – that certainly is a cool theme. My friends, however, suggested the theme from Harry potter, which would also go.

They were, of course, all there. It was great to see them. I hugged most of them as soon as I saw them, especially Charlie and Emma. Mind you, most of my friends hugged me first. There wasn’t time to talk to them all sadly, but it was still good to see them. I cant help thinking we will now drift apart…well, we’ll see. The photos on my wall tell me otherwise though. Anyway, there’s always old boys to look forward to.

Anyway, it was a typical graduation: we got to Bridgewater all, picked up my robe, had a bite to eat, and then went to have my photo taken. Problem is, I’m no good at photos – my head kept wobbling, and my hat kept falling off. Fortunately, the photographer was very patient, and we eventually got a pretty good photo. After that, however, we decided not to bother with the hat.

I think it was then we went to meet Esther and Cyril just outside the hall. Cyril looked very dapper, but I must say Esther looked quite stunning – although I may not have made this clear to her yesterday, of all the people I saw there, she, for me, was the most important. If she had missed it, it would not have felt right. She has been my constant companion through this degree, and it made me very happy to see her there.

It was my father, however, who pushed me onto the stage. I was in my manual chair,, as Cyril was going to be driving me home and my electric does not fit into his car. I was about two thirds of the way along the list of names. As usual, friends cheered each time a name was announced, which was great fun, but, for some reason, when my name was called, there was a louder roar then usual. The dean also spoke to me longer. Don’t know why…

After the ceremony came the drinks reception. As planned, my parents went home at that point, so me, Cyril and Esther went to the reception. This was held in Manchester town hall, which is quite an awesome building. There was much taking of photos here. It was quite emotional, as you can imagine.

It was after this that my aunts plan came into it’s own. We hooked up with the joneses, and went to the meal (my cousin’s car being used to good effect). We dropped Esther off at the station,, and me, Cyril and Mr. and Mrs j drove to the restaurant. Emma couldn’t make it to this, in the end, but we would meet up with her later. The meal itself was delicious. As I’ve said before, the Jones family are cool people, and make excellent company for dinner. We ate in a Lebanese place, and the food was delicious.

Then the fun started. Bars and clubs. Mind you, we had something of a fiasco getting there. Charlie and holly were driving with me and Cyril; en route to the club we drove to their new place in Manchester to drop something off, then to Cyril’s as I needed a fresh shirt owing to coffee stains. This took longer than anticipated. On top of that, when we were finally heading into town, we ran out of petrol and come to a shuddering halt. Fortunately, although I’m not sure why, Cyril keeps some spare petrol at his place. He ran back, got it, and refilled the car. The delay, although unavoidable, was irritating, for we were sobering up. Plus, I felt kind of guilty because holly and Charlie go back to Ibiza today, and this delay was eating into their socialising time. I’m sorry, guys. Mind you, ii hasten to add that this should in no way reflect badly on Cyril. He was quite excellent last night.

When eventually did get out, it was great fun. We went to a bar, where we met up with Emma, Scott and co, then to the print works. God knows how much I drank in all, but it was a good amount. I guess I should have had some red bull, for by 2.30 I was flagging. I felt guilty about this, for I had said I wanted to stay till Charlie went home, as I’m not going to see her for some time, but I was getting very floppy. It was definitely time to go. I’m worried too that I forgot to say goodbye to people I should have, but I’m probably being silly. Besides, I hate goodbyes.

So, that’s it. My undergraduate life has ended. It has been wonderful – without a doubt, the best thing I ever did. Yesterday, break downs aside, was a great day at the end of a great three years.

Tomorrow will be huge! It’s probably the biggest day of my life: graduation. You know, there was a time when I thought I’d never thought it would occur. Ha! What tripe. Now, not only will it occur, but it will occur under the best possible circumstances: I’m graduating with a first, and the people around me will be my best friends. How exciting is that? The past three years have been thee best of my life, filled with parties, trips, balloons, and fun; on top of that sits the glistening cherry of my result. How can I fail to be excited? Mind you, part of me worries that me and my friends will fall out of touch; this concern is irrational – yes, we’ll see less of each other, but I for one regard friendship as something life long. The guys are as welcome at my kitchen table as they were at the tables of the Wesley Centre.

I’m currently looking at the photographs on my wall. Most are of me, or of me and Charlie. She gave me some framed photographs for my birthday – two small ones to sit on a desk and one to hang. The latter I had dad nail to my wall, and one sits on my sub woofer, presently thumping out Beanie by Cat Empire. You know, I used to look at these photographs with regret – those times are gone, never to come again; yet, a few days ago, I remembered a line from Barthes: ‘the camera cannot say what is, but only and for certain what has been’. The past thus remains unchanging, and no matter what happens now, I will forever recall these past three years as the happiest of my life. I no longer feel regret when I look into these pictures, but great joy at the happy times they make me remember, combined with a wonder for what my friends are doing at present. They will serve to remind me to contact them from time to time.. Even in the highly unlikely event that I may never see my university friends again, even if they somehow totally forget about me, the photographs on my wall, in telling me what has been also tell me what is yet possible.

Of course, this is not to say I’m some kind of fatalist, that I now think that the good times are over. On the contrary, they’ve only just began. Indeed, I have a new girlfriend; I have my masters to look forward to. Yes, life is good. The past is a constant and welcome companion as we walk resolutely towards the future. Tomorrow will also be sad, for there will be many partings, but in the photographs on my wall, and in the messages on facebook, I see that friendship never truly ends.

The Onevoice agm was on Saturday night. I went. In the back of their report, in the list of the donations, are the words ‘Manchester metropolitan university gospel choir’. I just want to record how proud of my friends I was at seeing those words: it was a wonderful thing Charlie and the choir did, and I think they are all amazing,

For Onevoice itself is amazing. To me, it isn’t just a charity – it is, as Beth put it, a world. It is a world where these can be themselves – confident and self assured. There, they can meet kids and adults just like them, who face exactly the same problems, yet have overcome them. Here, they hopefully see that there world is only limited by to things: their imagination, and the boundary of space-time itself.

Things like Onevoice are thus vital inasmuch as they show these kids and their parents what can be done. Me and my fellow role-models are all highly successful. Indeed, the speeches they all gave were all truly inspiring. With luck and a fair wind, maybe, in a few years, some of those kids will go to uni, befriend the leader of the choir (or, in Ian’s case, rock band) and the whole thing will start again.

I’ve written here before about how the right to communicate is often overlooked. People don’t realise just how central it is to life. I just found this video on youtube. It says it all, really.

I just got back from the Onevoice weekend, and I’m quite frankly knackered. It feels like years since we left home on Friday, for quite a bit happened over the weekend. Despite the best efforts of the weather – I’m convinced someone has stolen summer – all the kids seemed to be having fun. one of the highlights for me, of course, was the fact we had a film crew with us, filming the kids in action. I got to watch a music video being made, virtually from scratch, with the kids helping to compose the music, as well as appearing in the video. I kid you not, when you see it posted on youtube, you are going to be amazed. It is genuinely cool, kind of rap, rather funky. I loved it. I had to leave before I saw the finished video, but from what I did see in the small editing suite (working with the guy who made the ‘behind the scenes’ documentary on casino royale) it kicked butt.

It was so invigorating working with these kids. Me and the other role models all gave small talks this morning – mine was basically on university. Talking to these kids and their parents, telling them what can be done and what the future may hold, as well as listening to the other role models, is incredible. I’ll probably tell you more later in the week, but now I’m going to flop myself down in front of the TV. Life is good.

Waiting sucks. I hate it. Later I go to Onevoice; Steve gets here at about half one, then dad will drive us both to the venue. We should be there before four. The thing is, I can’t wait. Its only half nine, and I’m already packed and ready to go. Why does time go so slowly. Mark should find a way to speed it up by somehow manipulating gravity! Apparently, gravity bends space-time.. also, the more stationary you are, the faster time goes, which is just as well given I’ll be mostly sat reading in the conservatory this morning. It doesn’t seem to have much effect though, but then time for me goes at a constant pace. There is thus no way I can speed time up. Grr.

Oh, I know. I’ll go try to read mark’s thesis again. That should kill a couple of hours.

Did anyone else see The Alistair Cambel Diaries on bbc2 last night? To be honest, I found them quite fascinating, not just for the entries themselves, but for the archive footage. I had forgotten how much I liked Tony Blair back then – I think we all have. His reputation has since been muddied by the Iraq debacle, but what really struck me, looking again at this footage from 97, was his sincerity. He seemed to truly believe in what he was saying. He genuinely intended to improve the lot of the people of this country; he was passionate and forthright.

It occurred to me that Mr. CaMoron is trying to imitate Blair in 97. he too is trying to appear passionate and honest, but, unlike Blair of yesteryear, it seems just that: an act. It seems hollow. Indeed, it is hollow because his task is impossible. Conservatism runs contrary to the beliefs most in this country hold most dear: multiculturalism, fairness. At the end of the day, whereas liberalism requires a modicum of thought, conservatism is merely a set of base instincts disguised as a political ethos. For example, as children we care only for ourselves, and do not share, but as we grow, we hopefully realise that we belong in a society and position ourselves as part of a whole. Tories do not realise this, and so, child like, continue to care only for their selves. Their belief that a free-market economy will benefit all is a misguided excuse for this childish selfishness. It is therefore impossible for conservatism to appear fair and rational because that would be an oxymoron. This is why it is so blatant that CaMoron is merely performing an act. Anyone with an iq over 10 can tell this.

It is quite interesting to reflect on how central communication is to our culture, and indeed our species. We often take it for granted how important communication is; surprisingly so, when you look at it. It is all-prevalent and thus all powerful. If we take all forms of communication into account, it is incredibly important. This is probably why Lacan incorporated the symbolic in his tripartite – without the symbolic, the imaginary cannot access the real. Basically, your screwed.

Some examples may illustrate my point, but the problem is, where to begin – communication can be anything. For starters, I am of the opinion that academia can be boiled down to, and seen in terms of, one huge conversation: one person suggests an idea, which can be supported by or countered with other research, just as people in everyday life talk through ideas which may be argued or agreed with. Of course, there are differences in terns of content (what academic literature reviews a choice of breakfast cereal, and who talks about One loop phenomenology of type 2 string theory: intersecting D-branes and noncommunicativity over the garden fence?) but the point is they both employ the same structures. They both employ language, grammar, etc, the rules of posit and counter. They are, in the broadest sense, the same. They both are reducible to the ability to communicate. The same applies to virtually every situation, from parliament to the local pub. Hell, even this blog is a form of communication: at the moment, I am communicating my ideas on communication (not very well, admittedly). It also seems highly plausible to me, by the way, that it was the development of complex language that ensured human development over that of H. Neanderthalis. While I’m certain that odour nearest cousins had basic language, ours was more complex, paving the way, perhaps, for higher brain function (although it must be said that this gives rise to questions of the chicken and egg type). Either way,, language was quite central to human evolution. (go here for father reading)

It is thus obvious to me how important language and the ability to communicate is. I have written here before here about how, historically speaking, those without speech or other means to communicate have been written off as having severe learning difficulties, and, historically, institutionalised. If we juxtapose the centrality of communication in our species with the fact that access to the symbolic real is not universal, we can see why this happened.

This is why I believe the right to communicate should be inalienable. After all, what good is free speech without the ability to speak? This is why we need such things as the communication aids project, and 1Voice: in a species which seems to prise communication above all, all voices should be allowed to be heard.

Oh, now I know what’s wrong with me. I think I have post-bachelor disorder (go here). I too am becoming obsessive about my emails, but, unlike the girl in the cartoon, I would quite fancy free chocolate. Oh, wait – I have a packet of mars bars on my desk.

[stoled from a reference on mark’s facebook]

Nothing is impossible: I keep worrying about this and that, but worrying solves nothing. I find it leads to defeatism, which is never healthy. I was worrying about this post-graduation meal, when all it took was a simple question and a few emails and the solution was found. I have misplaced Cyril’s email address so I’ll just use this entry to tell him I would like him, after the graduation and drinks reception, to drive me to the venue of the meal at 6.30, help me eat there etc, then drive me home after (if need be, he can stay at my place the night, as can Esther if she goes). We should, I imagine, be home before 12, but you never know I suspect he’s in for a treat.

See? Sorted! I hope the rest of my readers don’t mind me using my blog to sort out my social life. I do feel, however, that for a person with limited speech, any means of communication is valid. You must use what is at your disposal. It is the only way to get past barriers.

I have difficulty using zips, especially small ones (like on a zentai, which are at the back). So what do I do? I don’t give up, leaving the suit in the cupboard, but either ask someone to help me put it on, or, if nobody is about, attach a chord to the zip so I can pull it up. It works a treat! To every problem there is thus a solution. My very first day at school, I was asked to take my coat off; ‘I can’t’, I said, only to be told there was no such word. These days, not only do I take my coat off, but I can even put it on too. All it takes is a little time and ingenuity. The same principle works for coats, zentai suits, and degrees.

This is precisely what I’ll be telling the guys at 1voice this weekend. Couldn’t email Cyril, so I used my blog; couldn’t do the zip so I used string; can’t talk clearly so I use a voca. No problem!

It’s funny how my mood can change in an instant. Most of yesterday I was feeling down about this affair of the post-graduation meal. Problem was my parents will probably want to go home after graduation, since dad will be tired having just flown in from a business trip. However, the joneses had invited me and my parents to dine with them and the Averys after graduation. Emma and Charlie being two of my best friends, I really wanted to go, especially given that I’m unsure when I’m going to see either of them again. I am still going to celebrate with my parents, but I can do that at the weekend.

This problem was bugging me. Uncle aki and aunt Dinah were here yesterday, and they could tell I was perturbed (frankly, it was obvious). Well, we were up in Manchester yesterday, visiting my cousin Cyril. We were in his flat, me brooding over some black coffee. Suddenly, my aunt, out of the blue, asked Cyril if he could help me out, coming to graduation and then taking me to the meal with my friends after. ‘Yeah, cool’ he said. My head lifted from the coffee, and I smiled. The solution was so simple. The details need to be worked out, but Cyril can take me to the meal, then take me either home or his place to crash thereafter. While I’m still waiting for an email from the joneses to confirm this is okay (I fear it may be too late), it reminded me of the simple truth that all problems can be solved.

It should be a top night. Cyril met Charlie at monster monster; I know Hugh and he will get on, I just know that Emma will love him. Why I got so het up about this god knows, but it was something to do with missing that party. Anyway, problem solved. I owe my aunt a beer!

I was at a loss for something to write here, but then I noticed something very important on facebook. Jen, who is hopefully going to be my new p.a in September, is 22 today. Jen is a great girl, and a good friend, so I just want to wish her a great birthday.

[wonder if she’s having a party I could crash]

Okay, I’ve been in a foul mood all afternoon, largely a result of frictions with my mum. We have contrasting ideas about what happens directly after my graduation. Also, I was feeling miserable about being stuck in on a Friday night. This mood gave rise to the rantings of my previous entry. It’s miserable, being so far away from your friends.

But then I realised: hey, what’s the point? I have no real reason to be down. Even if I go home after graduation, instead of staying out with my friends as I wanted, A. there was still fun to be had, and B. I’ll see my friends in the future. Anyway, I’m safe and warm and surrounded by family. My friends will not somehow divorce me if I cant go out after the ceremony with them (I hope not anyway). I was being irrational earlier. It just suddenly occurred to m what my friends would say if they saw me in such a mood: probably ‘don’t be such a stupid cripple’ or somesuch.

Mind you, I could still do with another bevy before bedtime.

I just found something funny: in Uganda, home brewed beer is drank through a drinking straw called an Epi. According to this article, a new one-man-one-straw policy has had to be implemented to stop the spread of tb. Personally, I prefer two straws. Straws are the way forward! Mind you, mum won’t let me drink much now I’m home, very much to my chagrin, but that’s another story… I mean, I’m an adult! Why should my alcohol intake be controlled by my mum? It’s fucking stupid; one of the disadvantages of cp.