Thoughts

My thoughts wander through parallels of great distress. My body is finding new ways of spasming that make every day living a lot more complex. You see, I must stay distracted my mind on other things- work, attendant issues, etc. But I feel like society expects more from people like me. I have to break down a lot of stereotypes- good, bad, ugly, true and false, about my disability and my very existence. I like to believe that I understand people enough to realize that their ignorance is their loss, and none of my business. I go out of my way to educate these people that folks with disabilities are just people who happen to have impairments that effect their ability to empower or destroy people with disabilities. They don't understand that we are just like everyone else, but are we really? I think that there should be a poll: " but are we really?" How we feel, our actions, our ability to live, our ability to have employment and education; it means a lot for people with disabilities to become overachievers and get support in achieving what everyone should have and what everyone wants to have. A chance, a real and honest chance. And I think that for those who sit around and choose to only exist, or don't exist, it poses a real problem. It buys into a stereotype that people with disabilities are just people who use benefits and don't achieve anything throughout their lives. It is very frustrating that only 75% of people with disabilities are unemployed, and they want to be employed. But people should not stop trying. We have to keep going. And challenge our minds. I am really frustrated for some unknown reason.

Obama's Agenda

One can only imagine the wieght on Obama's shoulders as he enters the White House. His agenda is pretty Liberal and he needs every bit of our support. He is going to get a lot of crap from Congress, and I doubt he will accomplish much in his first 4 years, if he can win a 2nd term, he won the war, and his agenda will become their agenda. He will win over his non-supporters, and either they will hit the road or jump on board. I hope he can clean up the mess of 8 years of George W. Bush. In terms of world politics and international affairs, he has a lot to work on. He has to do something about Iran. And at the same time he has to get Gaza and Isreal to come to some conclusion. Like thats really gonna happen. And there's always our country. The high crime rate, the lack of jobs, the poor economy, the lack of health insurance for most Americans, the minority and all their issues, education which is failing this country...he needs to also end the drug war and illegal immigration. Oh my god, he has so much to do! I hope he is for real.

Breaking Up With Destiny

Word Count: 505

Breaking Up With Destiny
By
Nicholas Feldman

It started the way any old relationship would, the attraction, the wanting to do things together, and feeling passion. This went on for a few years with many twists and turns, and upside downs. Then, one day I had an epiphany.

Destiny wasn’t who I thought she was. The activities that Destiny and I used to find cool were no longer. Destiny wanted the world to show her the way, and protect her from the harsh realities. I see these realities every day in my business, and in life. They are the fights that make people real. Of course all of these events crescendo with a doll that almost resembles some sort of mythical character pulling two people together, hearing it all, and now becoming a grumpy old man with nothing to do but sleep all day and listen to Destiny. The creature is tired of being the silent shrink, and doesn’t want to hear about any more busy talk, or BS.

When I came home and I looked at Destiny one day, I thought I wanted to marry Destiny. Then just some time ago, I walked in the door and it was quite different. I am a power monger hungry for nothing but success, and a comfortable lifestyle. This is the opposite of Destiny.

Destiny is a very happy-go-lucky, non confrontational artist who wants to teach children, and doesn’t care at all about money. Our friends who were there all disappeared years ago. New friends were hard to acquire, and the TV show Friends did not make up for it. When I get angry, I yell and scream. When Destiny yells and screams, it turns into loud childlike wails that only a pedophile might enjoy. Destiny used to get into it and really focus all their attention on the wailing. I really could care less, and would much rather have a more practical conversation.

It would be neglectful of me not to mention the fact that both of us have physical disabilities and a case of identity theft brought on a lot of our final arguments. These arguments had a lot to do with people who helped us out in our daily lives.

Destiny and I both have Cerebral Palsy: a neurological condition that affects speech, motor control of the limbs, and can cause mental retardation, deafness and blindness. Neither of our mental faculties are affected by our physical disabilities. Destiny uses a power wheelchair, and a synthesized voice, with some use of her arms and legs. The person reading this should also know that I require significantly more care than Destiny. We are now just the so-called “roommates,” both trying to find our way out of this. It has been six years, with no regrets, but lots of changes. I get more reflective than I do sad. That’s just how I am. I think to myself that no arguments are necessary, no words can be said, and it’s just time to move on…

Activism in Russia

Please help this young woman with CP get out of a Russian mental institution!
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Russian disability activists acting on behalf of Katya Timochkina, an
18 year old child with cerebral palsy, are requesting that people
write the governor of Samara Region in Russia and let her leave a
psychiatric institution, where she is being kept against her will.
Katya has no psychiatric disabilities and has expressed a wish to get
an education (she has never received an education) and have a
successful career as a psychologist.

You can learn more about Katya at the English language blog, In
Solidarity with Katya Timochkina (http://katyat.wordpress.com). The
blog includes a link to a Russian-language interview on Youtube with
translation into English.

The simplest and most effective way of helping Katya is to write a
postal letter to the governor. Russian officials are required by law
to respond to each piece of written correspondence. Even a short,
carefully-written, personal letter on why Katya's fate is important
to you- without assuming a preachy or accusatory tone- would be very
powerful.

These letters are especially important now because in Russia's
current political climate it is increasingly difficult for community
activists, including disability activists, to operate. A regional
minister in Samara lodged a complaint to Russia's human rights
ombudsman that certain disability activists were expressing undue
interest in the fate of Katya! These very activists also happen to
serve on a government commission on inclusive education for children
with disabilities!

The governor's address is:

Vladimir Vladimirovich Artyakov, the Governor of Samara Region.

His address is:

Russia 443006,

Samara,

Molodogvardeiskaya Ulitsa, 210.

Postal letters with the sender's address and a request for a reply
bind the Governor to respond.

While an email does not require the governor to respond, it also
generate attention. Email the governor at governor@samara.ru

Katya's case has been covered several time in Izvestiya, one of the
top three newspapers in Russia and covered on national TV there. She
has the potential of becoming a symbol of Russian children with
disabilities who seek to live fulfilling lives of dignity, where they
can offer their gifts to the world and make a positive contribution.
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To whom it may concern,

I have heard about the plight of Katya Timochkina, the 18 year old with Cerebral Palsy who lives in your country. Because of her intelligence and her successful education, I ask that she be allowed human rights to be able to leave the mental institution where she currently lives.

People with disabilities can lead very successful lives outside of an institutional environment. I have Cerebral Palsy myself, and am college educated, and living with assistance in my own apartment. I have friends, own a company, and am even even engaged to be married.

Once again, I urge you to let Katya Timochkina leave to pursue a life of successful community integration. Life outside of an institution can be daunting without supports, but if she is given the support that she needs to live a life of her own, I am confident that she will be a productive member of Russian society.

I thank you for your time. Sincerely,

Nick Feldman
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All responses are welcome! Show the world that people with disabilities can lead very productive lives outside of the institutional environment.

Very Busy

For me, the holidays are always busy. I was lucky to see a couple of my old friends this week, and I also celebrated Vanessa's birthday. Times are tough on all businesses, and I am not excluded. Bills, mixed with life and a twist of drama can add up to be pretty realistic.

I will write more later, but I have to go write a letter to in home supported services about my lack of payment for December, but it;s time to get on it!

The Cab Ride

I thought this was beautiful...another great reason for more in home care.
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An Inspirational Story, Motivational Story -
The Cab Ride
By Author Unknown (submitted by Rebekah)

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, and then drive away. But, I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.

So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute", answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.

It's nothing", I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated".

"Oh, you're such a good boy", she said.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"

"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice".

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.

"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair. "How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I said.

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers," I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. "You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."

I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life. I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

People may not remember exactly what you did, or what you said,
but
they will always remember how you made them feel.

OBAMA WINS!!!

My grandfather started the first African American radio station in Baltimore, and my father is a former reporter who interviewed Malcolm X. I am so happy that my grandfather is looking down to see the first black President and the hope of a brighter future for America and all of our issues that face our Nation, and the world.

I look forward to what's to come.