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‘just of interest

Raw, mild updates

I have been writing lately, just not posting. After losing a post this morning I wrote the following on 750words as a head empty. Step gently as you read this but to prevent me from losing the nerve to post I will post unedited, typos, mis-capitalisations and all. The idea at the time  was that my fingers didn’t leave the keyboard and that I didn’t pay any attention to how it looked .Hence the raw title. There are probably the germination of three posts here. I won’t promise, but if you see me repeating myself in future posts, forgive.  

The only thing I did edit was I turned a few specifics that I won’t name into “various reasons”.

A bit frustrated. After months of avoiding the blogging thing because of various reasons I woke up this morning and, after listening to the 3d audio thing, decided i’d start working on the post to introduce the new wheelchair that actually and finally arrived yesterday. Then I had the whole “which writing tool do I want to use here?” internal debate, which led me to reading the article about Obama’s decision minimising (to avoid decision fatigue) which in my own mind led to a blog on its own about that whole process as a phenomena linking to the fast company piece. So i wrote it it was casual, without being too draft-y, explained that now seemed a good time to reboot the whole blogging thing again, and was just saving the post from the draft screen to be able to add the link and was sure I had saved it but something went wrong and I think I’ve lost it. I was in the zone, it wasn’t my best piece of work but I was definitately doing something and re-vitalising. I was useful.

But interesting, i’m not really that far off that feeling now and maybe the previous post,  this decision making tree stuff isn’t that valuable on the blog especially as an re-intro but might it has served its purpose as a free write or something. I’m still writing now aren’t I? I have overcome the whole question of which program to use and maybe just use this as a cut and paste starting point. I like the fact that I seem to be able to see the resistance ok, even yes feel it and work through itr even here. I’ve always noticed when the various self-help gurus would talk about letting thoughts go, float away and thought that meant ignoring them or just being disciplined. I’m sure that helped. I think it was better than nothing and certainly better than sinking into the feelings, but it wasn’t quite the same as the thing I’m talking about. Choosing different without the denial but in spite of feelings and perhaps better before the feelings can have an inpact because it will feel better each time I choose won’t it? So if I want to be a writer, yes I should do it because I enjoy it. Because I feel time and even words fly by but I can’t afford quite literally to wait till I feel like writing, or not just then. I should fill my time with the activities that improve or could improve my writing regardless of how I feel at the time, and pear back on the other stuff. seeing myself as a writer is more than a romantic gesture here. As that muscle of deciding gets stronger I will feel the flow more likely I’m guessing. I’ve slowed down a bit in the last two hundred words I’ve noticed distracted by leg cramp, noise and word count and grabbing too hard onto sentences that now are long gone, but i do think the flow is actually better and so yes I’m getting some reward for sticking with it.I must write more regularly anyway to capture thoughts like some of the people moving stuff i noticed yesterday driving around in the new chair, how people saw me just a little bit differently i think as being a person not a point of pity, how I was struggling to find a speed that felt right. How I felt like more of a person and strangely more part of the action and more visible. People were a bit more anxious. I was more anxious. How I’m over how torn up the footpaths are and what that does to the camber, and how everybody seems to want to use the flattest bit for themselves be they pram, shopper trolleys, street furniture, slow walking couples meandering right down the middle, the footpaths can’t handle all of it and leave enough space for me to apply the breaks when I need to because every time there is a gap that is a safe gap to leave it is intercepted. this means going out is painful as people don’t like me to inter up their flow or look like I’m going to hit them but I need to assume that the camber will throw me into someones shins! I should go out for a long roll to help condition the battery but I’m not sure given pre-existing decision fatigue and the prospect of the above or thinking where to go will keep me in bed and the chair today unused.

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Background music

Every morning, without fail, at about 7 am, the guy who lives across and up one plays just one song loud enough to be clear as day in my bedroom at the front of the house. Then that’s it from him till the very next day

I used to hear him playing music loudly in the afternoon. Always 80′s usually soft rock. But now just this one same track, played just once. Sunday was odd in that it didn’t happen until 8 (post election blue perhaps).But it did happen.

I know my 80′s music and thankfully I like this track.But by the same token, I’ve tried to avoid all love music (I fear I’m too old and jaded now to want the sort of earth shifting devoted love affair  I really seek)  and all faith music, so it doesn’t leave me much. If I was being superstitious I would say my neighbour’s contribution to my life was to remind me against cynicism and to keep expecting. Lyrics mean the most to me and these ones are pretty clear.

So in honor of my neighbour here is

I gotta take a little time
A little time to think things over
I better read between the lines
In case I need it when I’m older
Aaaah woah-ah-aah

Now this mountain I must climb
Feels like a world upon my shoulders
And through the clouds I see love shine
It keeps me warm as life grows colder

In my life there’s been heartache and pain
I don’t know if I can face it again
Can’t stop now, I’ve traveled so far
To change this lonely life

I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me
Aaaah woah-oh-ooh

I’m gonna take a little time
A little time to look around me, oooh ooh-ooh ooh-ooh oooh
I’ve got nowhere left to hide
It looks like love has finally found me

In my life there’s been heartache and pain
I don’t know if I can face it again
I can’t stop now, I’ve traveled so far
To change this lonely life

I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me
I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
And I wanna feel, I want to feel what love is
And I know, I know you can show me

Let’s talk about love
(I wanna know what love is) the love that you feel inside
(I want you to show me) I’m feeling so much love
(I wanna feel what love is) no, you just cannot hide
(I know you can show me) yeah, woah-oh-ooh
I wanna know what love is, let’s talk about love
(I want you to show me) I wanna feel it too
(I wanna feel what love is) I wanna feel it too
And I know, and I know, I know you can show me
Show me what is real, woah (woah), yeah I know
(I wanna know what love is) hey I wanna know what love
(I want you to show me), I wanna know, I wanna know, want know
(I wanna feel what love is), hey I wanna feel, love
I know you can show me, yeah

From here

.

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I could talk

So much I could say. So much I could post. Though of course not all of it I would post. I could and probably should post about the NDIS/disabilityCare thing and the problems with that label, not to mention any of the other funding or UN Convention on the RIghts of people with disability implications. Or I could talk about the sense of disconnect I fear between the expectations placed on the NDIS and what I fear the outcomes will be, especially in terms of the expectation of being participatory human members of society. Not to mention our own expectation of this.

I could talk about the trip to Melbourne; the changing vibe, the highs of interesting conversations about choice and image, perception and empowerment, of tram rides and train rides executed without fuss, or the extra of the seeking of permission, the lows of scheduling and missed opportunity, of mixed messages, of debates with taxi drivers yet again about the validity of the interstate taxi vouchers; (what is with it with this regular but random impression that no one with a disability travels, much less without an entourage of the strapping and the young).

I could talk about Seymour. Of awe over both people and the place. Of more interesting conversations. Of feeling both part and apart. Of movement, doing and watching. Of longing and yearning, beauty and sadness.

I could talk about the herald article about the sterilisation of disabled woman and self-directed care, assisted decision-making and full dependence. I could talk about the role of parents and the tensions there. I could talk about a housewarming party I went to a few weeks ago and a conversation I had with a woman doing research on the siblings of people living with disability and wondering what my brother would say.

I could talk about the experience I had at this college with them trying very hard not to exclude me from festivities but to also not drench my chair during a surprise water bombing.

I could talk about the books I am reading, expanding my thinking on questions of faith, doubt and also the future.  I could talk about the management of sad memories and sadness for relatives that I don’t know.

I could talk about feeling increasingly invisible and unimportant generally and feeling a wish to bunker down but have more fun. I could talk about my efforts to declutter and simplify. I could talk about technology, in its failing and succeeding. Depth not width.

I could talk about the fact I wanted to stop talking and thinking about “disability stuff”, but have realised anew that it is interwoven as part of my own fabric. In fact I could write about how so much of the thinking and feeling outlined above is interwoven and feeding into a whole that as they say is greater than the sum of the parts.

I could and might write about these things. Or I might just post this as an expression of the way things are.

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tuesday tiny: Tyres

from this old tyreto thisnew tyres

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More writing ..again

So, yet another piece of writing software becomes part of my choice to buy as part of Dad’s iTunes gift and yet I claim I want to de-clutter my life. But he did say to buy something very me; and rightly or wrongly, this feels very very me and something that is in fact very him too.

But writing does help and so I write. This bit perhaps to de-clutter my head if not my desk. I tried 750 words, but somehow that felt like competitive clutter, online clutter and another login and so I found myself stopping.

So Christmas is over and I’ve used the gift vouchers or am starting to. The iTunes voucher, Books for the Kindle, a dress some time ago, and my perfume by virtue of a gift voucher from my brother. The rest was food-y which was nice, although my stomach wasn’t really up to much this time unfortunately even on the day itself, in a pretty severe way.

So one of the books I choose was The 100 Thing Challenge: How I Got Rid of Almost Everything, Remade My Life, and Regained My Soul. 24 pages in, he is a very funny and self-deprecating author. So the book is fun, but so far I am still sitting here in what I consider to be a mess. I can’t help wondering how much flexibility I should allow for limited mobility etc. Time will tell I guess

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Reflection on my birthday

Joanna on birthday

Joanna on birthday pre makeup

Birthdays have always been a strange mix for me. The mix of fun and reflection; marking moments in time and letting ones hair down.

It was interesting what I noticed this year and what I neglected, either by choice or, more often by distraction.

It was interesting who said what and who said naught.

It was interesting what was chosen and what I chose.

It was interesting what was thought about by me and how I thought.

Thank you to those involved; in the day, the year that was and in my life.

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The making of a live wishlist

With my birthday approaching in less than a week I was asked to provide a wish list. While it might seem a bit like I’m expecting gifts from readers, I’m not. This is more a question of documentation and having a central repository for this stuff.

I will keep it live and to some extent as a personal shopping list as well, (though not for the milk or orange juice). I want to keep it also a record of the things I’d like.

I’ve had an ongoing fascination with minimalism (I’m reading The Minimalist Woman) at the moment so I’m trying to be more mindful of what I ask for. I’m not into asking people to give to charities just because I believe in them. Asking for cash seems a bit crass and seems to defeat the purpose. But often the things that seem indulgent for me to buy for myself (my favourite foundation or an interesting Disability Studies textbook for example) seem either too dull or something to ask others to get me.

So tomorrow will see a new page on the menu bar in addition to my Amazon wishlist in the sidebar. Ignore it unless you need it or are fascinated.

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Late to this too

I’m not known as a trend setter. I tried as a younger woman and as a teen and gave up pretty quickly and became a “classic” dresser which, when I was younger, looked a little “old” perhaps, but now I think it works (I hope).

All this by way of introduction that just as the cold season that I have dreaded abates and we are all wandering around in spring wear I manage to, having bravely avoided it all season, come down with a head cold as well as my persistent cough. I think I’m on the mend though. I just found it amusing that the curse continues and crosses fields of endeavour!

At least its sunny.

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heading to cold

yes, I’m here. I went home to Orange — the kitchen goodbye and other matters. It was freezing. The food we ate out was good; wintery and clever as required. My food was I think reasonable but a couple of missing ingredients meant that I was good enough to be flexible (stew turned into stir fry, creme brûlée into a very flat flan). But it worked. And the other reasons for being home went by ok as well.

Now I have a head cold, not yet flowing, with really sore sinuses in addition to everything else.

The fact that a local girl Kate had won Masterchef Australia was lightly present. The fact that I wasn’t there over a weekend made a difference. The fuss if there was reserved to a note on the blackboard of the kitchen supply shop and deli and 5 centimetres in the Friday local paper. Perhaps it had already died down, by choice in Kate’s case?

 

 

 

 

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Saturday Snap: The view from down here

The view from my down hereI’d be interested to get photos of readers view from wherever they are and post them on the blog in a series. Maybe put a collage of them up in a header for a while. Anyway, what do you think?

 

 

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