Understanding...not just insurance

There are so many things in life. Human life. So many. Those undefinable links between them. Are they socially constructed...or embedded, decided from our birth, written in the Bible with DNA ink...?

Complexity.

The undecided plethora of choices unanswered. A mess of lines and crosses. Or an organised interconnectedness of the status quo? A mass transit system. A to B. Remember to pass go. Collect your 200 dollars. Feed it to the vicious cycle vending machine of capitalism. Kick it when it fails to give the change that is inevitable.

Though through this, simplicity does not depart. It exists in a complex and convoluted embodiment, simple in one eye...simple, yet different in the other. But can it be seen with both?

The flesh beneath the skin is surely just that. Switch the lens, see it with both. Mitosis of emotions - one become two, two become four, four become eight, eight becomes sixteen - until the numbers become meaningless. A scientifically explainable process, mathematically patterned - but is that really the only way?

It starts with a feeling, made into two, then multiplied. Multiplied by two.

It must be hard to be the number two. Knowing that life is resting on your shoulders. A couple. A pair. An item. The power of two.

Emotions to infinity - a meaningless and inexplicable mess. Except with the rationality of mathematics.

Humans are irrational. QED?

Then how can they produce the rationality of science.

It cannot be the only way.

Trust.

The forgotten product of a bygone future. What does that even mean? Trust.

The answer is trust.

The answer is always trust.

Do you trust me? That's the only way to a whole new world...a wondrous place...for you and me.

Trust...blind faith in the ever pursued myth of egalitarianism...?

The art of trust and the art of deceit...synonymous, or the antonym that so many of us would like to believe that it is?

Knowing when to lie. To maintain trust. Why is it the answer must always be trust?

I would not lie to keep your faith blind.
We do not trust each other, therefore we love each other.

Trust. When to lie, when to be honest. When to smile, when to deny. When to hold on, when to let them fly.




What is the answer to nothingness? Trust.

Trust is the answer to everything.

Vagueness.

Raises more questions than it answers. Ones hidden thoughts. Those thoughts which are buried...uncovered by a shovel of uncertainty

A helpful means of expressing one's deepest regrets. One's sorest emotions. Maintaining one's ambiguity. Remaining hidden behind your mask of walls. Too scared to put them into the light.

Alas, not too scared. Too aware to put them into the light. The light pales their glow. They are not that which can be thrown unceremoniously into the public arena. They are too precious.

Their glow must remain.














No one really understands the words on the page. But they read them. And relate.

Don't dis my ability.

Disclaimer that I feel is necessary for the following blog:

I am fully aware of where my injury sits and readily acknowledge that my view is based solely upon my own experience and injury.

***

Disabled.

Interesting word that one. It's one of those words that mean very different things to different people. It's full of associations, images, words, actions, and assumptions.

I think we should start with a look at the word. "Dis" a prefix that denotes the opposite of the suffix "abled".

So what we have here is a word that means not-abled. In the context of the word, its generally used to label someone who is disadvantaged in relation to the "normal" person. For example, someone who has one leg, or no arms, or senses that do not function "correctly". It also covers intellectual disabilities - not being able to think in the same way as "normal" people, not being able to fully integrate with society.

The term is based inherently in the idea that there is a way that we should be - dictated by a majority that appears to fit this mould of "normal".

I feel its a word born from ignorance, from people never labelled "disabled". The perception is one of misunderstanding, one that does not take into account what it is like to be "disabled". It appears to treat "disabilities" as something unfortunate, an illness, accompanied by the unfulfillable desire to be normal.

I think a little background is necessary here to understand the personal experience my opinion is based upon.

I was born under conditions that resulted in a moderate to severe injury to my brachial plexus. In layman's terms - a nerve damage to my right arm. It means that I have limited use of my right arm. It affected my hand and wrist the most resulting in fine motor skills at near zero accompanied by reduced sensation. This is not the worst injury one could harbour, and that's not the point I'm trying to make.

My point is that a disability is, in many ways, an ability.

Life with two functioning arms would fundamentally change who I am. My construction of self has its foundations in my inability to use my arms in the same way everyone else did. As a baby, I never crawled, but developed a kind of scoot, where I propelled myself along the ground on my bum with a combination of hand and leg movements. I developed ways to play just like everyone else - as far as I was concerned everything about me was perfectly normal. I've known no other life. Sure, I couldn't swing on the monkey bars, and took a little longer to climb, but I could swing, paint, and play with play-dough, and talk. As I grew older I found ways to express myself so that my arm did not limit me at all. I use a laptop, I play a euphonium instead of a flute, I have a knob on my steering wheel.

It never concerned me much that I was different. It defined me. I am proud - I like people asking about my arm and I enjoy talking about it, in the same way anyone would like to talk about their defining moments and features. It means that people acknowledge there is something different and unique about me.

I hate people being scared to ask. It implies that they feel I may be sensitive. Which to me, is highlighting that there is something different about me, and that they feel I should be concerned about that difference.

Which brings me back to one of my previous points. That the term "disability" is born from a lack of understanding. It implies that being disabled means that you have an unfulfillable desire to be normal.

Read that bold part closely. There are two distinct groups in that statement. The normal, and the "abnormal". It gives rise to sympathy and pity - disabled.

I do not need sympathy. I do not wish to be normal. What I need is for people to understand my injury, and the limitations that it posses to me, and then to help me modify so that I can accomplish tasks to the best of my physical ability. Curiosity is the first step to understanding what it means to be disabled.

I'm sick of the high and mighty "able-bodied" people thinking are the flag bearers in the noble quest to defend the disabled.

There was an article on the ABC news website today about a fundraiser that had been cancelled. A bunch of primary school students decided to have a "dress up as someone with a disability day". Now yes, there are something things wrong with that. But it had potential. I am all for kids having a "come to school with a pretend physical disability day" and seeing what its like being in a wheel chair, or wearing earmuffs to see what its like being deaf. It leads to greater understanding.

There were a series of comments the article, however, that really made me angry. The main one that nearly made my blood boil was from this lady, calling herself Karen:

I do not blame the children - they pick up on the perceived ideas and attitudes from the adults around them.
At the end of the day my son cannot take off his disability and slip into something a bit more comfortable. Awareness of those with disabilities is not about clothes or appearances. AND IT IS NOT ABOUT POLITICAL CORRECTNESS. It is about treating others with dignity and respect and acknowledging that despite appearances we are all the same.

She was referring to above comments that suggested what I was suggesting - that it would be a great idea for kids to understand disabilities by experiencing them.

It perfectly highlights exactly what I have been saying. She is defending the disabled, and trying to imply that they WANT to be able to "slip into something a little more comfortable". She is perpetuating the implications of a word that misrepresents that which it is trying to represent. Disabled people are NOT, as Karen would like to thing, the same as the "abled".

By trying to treat the disabled as the same you are restricting them in a way that they do not want to be restricted. Sure, they cannot do certain things - but they are able to do many other things - and that's what they want - to do what they can and bugger everyone else.

And that is what they want other people to understand.

All I want is to be able to participate to the best of my ability.











All I want is to be allowed to play on the swings, instead of longingly watching my peers swing on the monkey bars.

Social Justice - Advancing Australia's Fairness.

First up, I'd like to direct your collective eyes up this page to the top. Notice my shiny new title image?

"Wow Chris, since when were you talented?"

Answer: I'm not. Full credit goes to Adam who writes far more entertaining posts on his blog. I suggest skipping mine completely and just reading his instead.

***

Now to those readers that I have left I bring you today's post, with a nice little introduction. I know that current affairs commentary isn't something that I generally blog here. There are plenty of people out there doing that.

Actually, come to think of it, there are plenty of people writing the kind of stuff that I normally write...so it kind of nullifies that argument.

Regardless, today I am going to discuss a topic that I have been following since it began, and have previously written about. (Not on my blog - it was an editorial piece for my writer's workshop class - copies are available to anyone interested, just leave a comment).

So...here goes. Nick D'Arcy - once more you are in my sights.

***

Its not quite a year after the infamous event that lost D'Arcy his international swimming career, and his chance at Olympic gold. For those who may have forgotten Im going to do a cut and paste from my previous writing to summarise what occurred - as best as media sources will allow.

You’ve heard the story about Nick D’Arcy, no doubt. He had a few to drink. His drinking buddy, Simon Cowley, told him to “tone down his bragging” - as the Herald Sun reported - and so Mr D’Arcy elbowed him in the face. Cowley suffered fractures in his jaw, eye sockets, hard palate, cheekbone and nose, requiring extensive surgery to insert five titanium plates into his face. Pretty hefty blow. D’Arcy’s punishment? The Australian Olympic Committee has said that he will not be attending this year’s Beijing Olympics.

So, it was an unprovoked attack, or at least thats how it was presented - though recently it has come to light that he was "slapped" by Cowley. And apparently D'Arcy punched him. Whether this slap occured or not and whether it was a punch is irrelevant, as far as I'm concerned. I'm ready to get on my high horse and condemn the situation.

What we have here is a violent outbreak that has physically and mentally damaged a fellow human being, and indeed a fellow swimmer. And I do not think that is something we should tolerate in our society no matter how drunk the person happens to be. Drunkeness is not an excuse for damaging incidents. You make a decision to drink - you deal with the consequences.

Now what has bought this topic back to my attention? Well, our wonderful Nick has had his sentence passed. He attained a suspended sentence, meaning he's been found guilty but escapes a jail term so long as he is on his very bestest behaviour. So no more punching for Nick or he goes to prison.

I think he was very lucky to escape a jail sentence. But I'll stick with the court's decision. They know a hell of a lot more about in than I ever will. We can't trust the media to not put a spin on things.

But there has something that has really made me angry about the whole situation.

In news today Swimming Australia annouced that D'Arcy would not be competing in the World Championships in Rome - despite qualifying at the Australian Championships.

And people think that Swimming Australia is in the wrong here.

A comment published on the Herald Sun article reporting this development - there were a number arguing the same sort of thing - this was the best expressed, however:

The decision to ban Nick D'arcy from the swimming team is deeply concerning. It suggests that decisions in law and sentence in law is not sufficient. All Australians should be concerned that a person charged and convicted in a court of law can be required to face additonal consequences beyond the structure and limits offered by the legal system. Those who support ongoing punishment would lead us all away from the objectivity of the legal system.

"Jan Anderson"

I disagree entirely with the sentiments expressed by Ms Anderson here. Law plays a vital role in ensuring justice is withheld in the community - but it is not, and never will be, the only role in justice. Many comments expressed similar sentiments "his done the time", "he's paid his debt" and "shouldn't be punished further". At first I found these arguments compelling. He's been sentenced, and punished by the courts, leave him be. But lets pull back for a second.

I work in a knife shop. If I commit a crime - regardless of its severity - my employer has every right to sack me, no matter how good I am at my job. If I have a criminal record, I will be punished beyond the law by society. It's a black mark against my name, and its something that I would sure as hell have to live with.

It's called social justice.

It isnt a matter of whether Nick D'Arcy is a fantasic and talented swimmer, and that he has already be punished by law. He has commited a crime and in doing so he has tarnished his name, he has recieved a black mark. Swimming Australia is well within their rights to say "We don't want him."

And I'm well within my rights as a citizen of the country he seeks to represent to say: "I don't want him - he is not what I want representing my nation."

That is something he will have to learn to live with.

The blinking orange taskbar.

Dear Internet,

I know that you and I have been friends for a very long time. We became friends about the same time I became close with my BFF. "How unusual!" you may exclaim - but I do not think so, dear Internet, I do not.

For you see, you were perhaps the reason - or at the very least the catalyst - for many of my friendships. I could bore you for hours with my recollections of all the good times and bad that we shared, but I shan't - because I also have to entertain my audience. Not that I don't love you or anything. I adore you, I cherish you, I wish to spend a portion of each and every day with you, exploring the intimate folds of your extensive knowledge, asking advice, securing definitions. You are, dearest Internet, one of the reasons for my happiness today.

We've shared our mutual evolution - from the lowly days where YouTube was just some site, and MSN was actually called MSN - back in the days of Pentium fours, the Sims1, and ADSL1. From the days where I couldn't talk to the girls I wanted to, the days where the small actions of teenage life seemed gigantic and dramatic, the days where I was blissfully ignorant of the realities of the real world, and the beauty of the written word. The days when I said "wud" "culd" "2" "lmao" "jks" "yea" and "luv". We've blogged together on and off for the past four years, through different medium - MSN spaces, MySpace, Bebo, and now I've settled for the uncomplicated blogger.

My dear internet - you gave me the confidence to talk to girls, to embrace myself, and to express my thoughts. You've trained my written skills, and honed my social skills. You yourself have grown to heights that I could not have dreamed of, blossomed in ways I never imagined. Wikipedia, YouTube, Facebook. I've never been prouder of you. You bring people closer.

Yet you are constantly hounded by people who don't understand you, don't revel in the complexities and vastness that you represent, laugh and dismiss the social opportunities you provide as antisocial and incomprehensive. I can almost understand them - touch and warmth are as important as words and knowledge - you cannot be my whole life, but you can be an integral part.

And as we've grown, my dear friend, in a way we've gone our separate ways. I have matured, recognised the value of intimate association, far from the faceless monitor, with the blinking orange taskbar. And you continue to raise the adolescents of our time, with your limitless potential. So though we're drifting, please let me say - I have no doubt that we will still be friends. You've had such a huge part in making me that I could never let you go.

And as our roads diverge, perchance, I wish to let you know.

My dearest Internet. I love you. I always will.

May we run together down life's paths - converging as we please.


With adoration and undying gratitude,
Your dear friend,
Christopher.

Simply complex it all its simplicity

So.

I spent this week starting uni.

It's a pretty cool place, but I don't really want to chat about that.

No, today I wish to speak of something that I was presented with in my sociology lecture.

Apart from my lecturer having a wonderful Scottish accent (or is it Irish...I'll listen more closely tomorrow), he also has an obsession with this cartoon that he discovered, the "understandascope" by Leunig. It's a great cartoon that one would imagine being in the AST - you know describe and interpret the following picture.


Image Source: http://www.adm.monash.edu.au/advancement/assets/images/understandascope.jpg

He was talking about perspective, how one views the world, and how important it is to realise that each of us views the world through a different lens. Not entirely a new concept, but he expressed it well.

We all seek to understand the world - and wish that we had something similar to the understandascope, something that we could look through that would somehow make everything clearer. But here is the irony of the picture - we seek to understand the world, and and would love to have an understandascope, yet the understandascope itself is flawed, due to it being only one lens, in one place, in one society, in one world.

This one cartoon expresses and highlights the complexity of human nature with almost childlike simplicity.

Which perhaps raises another irony.

Are complexities really that simple to grasp?

And does that make them, in essence, simple?

Hmmm.

“Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves."

-Carl Gustav Jung

Would it be ironic if you printed this?

So I recently got a new computer, right? And its wonderful, and fantastic and all that mushy junk.

And we have a few computers in our house, and they are all networked, and the printer is connected to the "main" computer, which needs to be on before any other user can print. And the main computer is slow.

And so printing takes far longer and is far more inconvenient than it really needs to be.

So I think to myself "Printers are pretty cheap these days, just go pick yourself up one and connect it to your shiny new".

WRONG.

Printers come with EVERYTHING now. You can only get multifunctions. Okay, I lie, you can get regular normal plain old printers.

BUT THEY COST MORE THAN MULTIFUCTIONS.

So why don't I get a multifunction?

BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE THE ROOM FOR THE GIGANTIC HEAP OF HYDROCARBON MANURE.

I have said it once.

I have said it twice.

I have said it many, many times.

And after this experience my resolve was further hardened.

I.
Despise.
Printers.

Now I know that you are all thinking, "Wow, despise Chris? Isn't that language a little harsh?" But I beg to differ with every fibre in my being.

I realise that printers are hideously useful tools - they paperise (yes, paperise, got a problem with that verb?) stuff on your computer, which makes it easier to read and archive in hard copy. They let you stick things on walls, and give yourself paper cuts.

But its this usefulness that is the downfall of the humble printer.

One NEEDS a printer.

And the printers know this, yes they do.

The printers know how much you need them.

"What the hell Chris, they are inanimate objects for goodness sake..."

NO. I REFUSE TO ACKNOWLEDGE THAT THEIR INSOLENCE IS RANDOM MECHANICAL FAULT. THEY KNOW.

"You have mice that connect in the same ways, and you also need them, but you don't hate them"

THAT'S BECAUSE THEY AREN'T EVIL.

Maybe that is too harsh.

Yes, it is. Maybe printers are merely insecure. They need to be reassured of their usefulness, they need to know that their work is needed. But everyone needs that every so often.

Printers, however, go about this in entirely the wrong way.

They do it by stuffing up at vital moments. They do it by constantly needing more paper. They do it by running out of ink. They do it by refusing to talk to the computer, or the network.

THEY DO IT BY BEING WANKY PIECES OF HIGHLY INSECURE PLASTIC.

AND THAT MAKES ME HATE THEM.

AND NOW THEY HAVE TEAMED UP WITH SCANNERS AND PHOTOCOPIES IN ORDER TO BE EVEN MORE USEFUL AND EVEN MORE FRUSTRATING BECAUSE THERE ARE SUDDENLY THREE TIMES THE NUMBER OF THINGS THAT CAN GO WRONG. NEVER MIND ABOUT BEING THREE TIMES THE SIZE AND THREE TIMES AS INSECURE.

So I leave you with a message, my dear readers.

When you are feeling a little insecure and need some reassurance.

Don't. Be. A. Printer.

"I didn't fail the test. I just found 100 ways to do it wrong"

-Benjamin Franklin

Street Corners

She was standing, staring at a busy city street. Her eyes roved around the area, searching, then they flicked to her watch. She was late, but that didn't concern her in the slightest. She was content to procrastinate. The young woman was thinking - thinking about street corners. She didn't really know why - it wasn't something that she thought about very often, nor was it a particularly interesting thought topic, it was just what she was thinking about.

Street corners seem to have negative connotations, she mused. Why? Was it Americanised stereotype - the references to drug deals and hookers? It must be - I can't think of any other way that street corners could be sinister. They are where the lights are put, where the traffic is directed from, where the green man tells you when its safe to walk. If anything street corners should be held in a positive light...

The city's surroundings swirled around in bustle of noise. Hissing - rubber on bitumen and stopping buses. Yells - street vendors and angry motorists. Growls - idling engines and exhausting fans. Lights changed from green to red, and the growling engine noise doubled - only to be relieved by the change from red to green - and the opposite line of traffic raced off in a cough of greenhouse gas.

The young lady still stood, now staring intently at the corner of the intersection where a crowd of teens had stopped, perhaps waiting for the anonymous green man. A small joking push was all it took.

The streets squealed and ground to a halt.

Screams.
Panicked whispers.
Car doors slam.
Racing footfalls on concrete.
Raised voices from commanding onlookers.
Distant piercing whirl of rushing sirens.

The young woman stood stiff, neck craining, shock flowing through fear laden veins, rushing in time with her frantic heart.

The teens stood pale on the opposite corner, comforting each other, sobbing painfully - framed by a bloodied bus, and hysterical communters.

Tense silence took hold of the rigid scene - all eyes focussed on the paramedics trying desperately to revive the limp teen.

***

The lady glanced at her watch. She took a final glance at the tragic street corner, wrenched her eyes from the dramatic final act of the boys life.

Her heels clicked away briskly from the street corner - punctuating the return of the ceaseless city noise.