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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A card carrying bone fide

Yippee I think! I’m officially still a disabled person again as far as an airline is concerned. The wheelchair or the fact that they have loaded it or me before is apparently not enough evidence. I need to have the right “card” telling them and me that yes I am in fact disabled. All the proof I need that I was neither imagining nor dreaming this life long pain arrived in the pobox today!! 😉 next time I express any pride on having been a bureaucrat bop me one.

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The email I wrote for international day last year

Dear All,

I’m sending this out on a personal note.

In simple terms this email is a thank you. It is international Day of People with Disability. I refuse to deal with Christmas till after today every year!

Regardless of how stage managed events around it need to become to raise the profile, IDPwD is intensely personal and profound for me.This year it is quite emotional for me. For me it is an opportunity to take a big breathe and acknowledge the journey, the wins, the losses and the inevitable work arounds. This starts with looking at my own life and using that reflection to look outwards. It involves giving thanks to all the powers that might be and to those in my circle who give me strength and courage and other resources to make “it” happen. You are each getting this because you have personally helped me “run that gauntlet”

Interestingly, looking out for a minute I see a big disconnect between parts of the messages that are being sent out this year. Domestically we are being told to celebrate the successes and the achievements and while fighting for the NDIS, keep it light and fluffy and a-political, This is even though there are enough people with disability to fill Victoria and we are under-utilised and more likely to be in all sorts of other not-nice minorities as a result .

On the other hand, the United Nations who proclaimed the annual observance in 1992 still tell us that:

“Persons with disabilities make up an estimated 15 per cent of the world’s population. Almost one-fifth of the estimated global total of persons living with disabilities, or between 110-190 million, encounter significant difficulties. Furthermore, a quarter of the global population is directly affected by disability, as care-givers or family members.
Persons with disabilities encounter many disadvantages in their societies and are often subjected to stigma and discrimination. They remain largely marginalized, disproportionately poorer, frequently unemployed and have higher rates of mortality. Furthermore, they are largely excluded from civil and political processes and are overwhelmingly voiceless in matters that affect them and their society”

I think this is a call to action if ever I heard one!

I think the truth lies somewhere in the middle and that for those of us who are “active participants” have the balancing act ongoing. It is because of people like you that I find the strength “to run the race before me”, even if we never talk about disability! Thank you from the bottom of my heart. . It takes courage to be sit on the margins. The marginalisation may have have changed but it is still present and I still feel it so thanks for the gifts of courage I am given in the big and small ways..

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it was a time

Whoa what a strange week. Global and local highs and lows. Not sure what the parallels are if any but I think there will be some.

It was a really personal time me, it was my birthday.
It was a time for new technology, my own and others.
It was a time for the best shower of my life, when I had been ready to accommodate and adapt.
It was a time for good friends from near and far.
It was a time for new barriers and new vision.
It was a time to mourn and celebrate.


Whole chapters of this blog  could and might yet be written about any one of these lines, but the need to say a lot has paralysed me from saying anything and so I post.

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Moments with Socrates — making choices

My recent readings having included re-reading Socrates’ Apology (as reported we think by Plato).

A passage has struck me: — apologies for the gendered language


“You are mistaken, my friend, if you think that a man who is worth anything ought to spend his time weighing up the prospects of life and death. He has only one thing to consider in performing any action; that is, whether he is acting rightly or wrongly, like a good man or a bad one” 27B-28C




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Five years. People talk about five years like it’s a long time. It is, and it isn’t.

Five years ago today I started work back in Australia after what can loosely be described as “time away”. I re-entered the disability sector. I re-entered the Church (which in my case eventually included becoming a Catholic). Five years ago, I was single, and hurting.

I can remember waking up at stupid o’clock on the morning of 8 May. I have known for some three weeks then I would be starting in this job. I had in fact already been to a quarterly meeting the Thursday prior with one of my colleagues who I had known previously leaning back watching a slideshow demonstrating some of the problems that I would be dealing with. I suspect part of him was relieved that among his busy roles, someone else would be dealing with access–whatever that term means. However, it was still my first day in that role.

Anyway, all suited up, I arrived at work, on the early bus and was sitting outside a nearby church a little after eight o’clock. I had been asked not to start before 9:30 AM on that occasion. I remember feeling nervous.  I remember the sunshine. I remember trying to empty my head so that I could focus on the day. I also remember feeling powerful and having a real sense of the possible. As it turned out, a lot was possible. But I was still very naive in some ways as to what I was taking on. Who knows what a bit of extra knowledge would have done.

I’ve been thinking a lot about time lately. The wasting of it. The good use of it. The goals we set and forget. The goals we remember. The visions we have for which we have some responsibility, and those that are more esoteric.

Matt’s post on creating time for your life, was good for me. I started thinking about the passage of time. Then, at the conference, five articulate advocates were asked to share five ways that they hoped the disability sector would be different in five years. Ramp Up’s editor very articulately made the case that there was a lot more than five things that she wanted. It was the only time at the conference that I was close to tears (well no, but the only presentation that brought me close to tears).

In another part of my life–blogging  Danimezza shares powerfully and intimately the journey she has taken through time, including importantly the stuff we choose not to speak about on our blogs. You go girl! I’m proud to be a lurker on your blog. Blogging can be hard if you can’t be (or don’t want to be) classified as a particular “type” of blogger. I’m often just an “other”–a position I’m fairly used to.

I didn’t think today would be a review day. But I’m glad it is. In case you are interested tomorrow I will do my five things. But I want today to think about it.


What’s on your agenda for the next five years?



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the dichotomy of me today

I’m swooning a bit today. Floating in the way I have been doing in the last few days, between, welcoming thinking too much, too deeply and feeling too much and not wanting to think feel or even do anything.

I crave conversation. I crave silence. I want to read. I need to write. I want a force-field around me protecting me from the bumps of all sorts, I want engagement.

I want to live in a true bustling creative dialogue of a city, where at 1 am you can still eat, drink, talk, be.

I want to join a monk and meditate and sleep and serve in silence and sleep from dark.

I want to change the world. And yet I don’t. I want to stay in bed. I want to travel.

I want to eat beans and rice and drink green tea. I want to immerse myself in rich wine cheese, flavours from the four corners.

I’m a bit of everything. Today.

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My online memberships: Boutiques.com

Inspired by Steph here is my Boutique.com membership –for ideas mostly

my "boutique on Boutiques.comRoughly once a week I’ll put one of memberships online up in case you are interested in other things I do online

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Monday at 3:30 AM

I had great plans for today. I had a bit of an enforced break last week and although I took my laptop, some new billing software and at least a half baked desire to do work I found myself needing to rest again and playing computer games and watch YouTube videos of programs I had seen before and could more or less recite. It was a good rest and then last night I just could not sleep once wide awake and lay awake, with my wheelchair unable to be unplugged until the morning. For example, I was going to write 1000 words plus of my novel for NaNoWriMo–National Novel Writing Month, which are known about since I was in uni but it never actually been disciplined enough to finish. I’ve only got 200 words written so far and a busy month ahead in  other ways. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.

So I am clearly exhausted. My eyes are smarting. My back hurts and my concentration and speech are equally sloppy. Yet I still strangely feel inspired. Lazy sloppy inspired.

It was interesting and peaceful though in watching the light change in a somewhat less familiar environment this morning accompanied by the occasional hum from the fridge and the noises of nocturnal animals and neighbours next door. There was a calming rhythm watching the world wake once I’ve decided that flight was not to be mine.

And as I finally rose at 5:15 in the morning, it was only then that the birds tweeted their first greetings. It felt poetic and beautiful.

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