Enjoy the weekend. My plans center on Saturday evening’s playoff game between the Packers and Vikings. The game is at Lambeau Field, which should give the advantage to my Packers. But Adrian Peterson could exploit the Packers’ weak running defense, which could make for a miserable evening.
If you’ve ever thought to yourself “I really like The 19th Floor, but I wish there was a more book-ish version,” you’re in luck. Written in Slow Motion: Thoughts on Disability and Other Random Topics will be released in Spring 2013 by Think Piece Publishing, a new imprint founded by my good friend Adam Wahlberg. The book is a series of essays inspired by, and sometimes borrowing from, the posts on this blog. It focuses on my experiences as a person with a disability, but will touch on many of the topics familiar to my blog readers: technology, pop culture, geekery, and politics. I may even mention fishnets once or twice.
I have no idea if a market exists for this book. After all, I’m no Justin Bieber’s mom. But I’m really curious to see how this project turns out. I’ll blog in the coming months about the process of getting a book to market and the challenges encountered along the way. I don’t anticipate any changes to my regular blogging schedule, but I apologize in advance for posting the occasional YouTube video because I’m struggling to meet a deadline.
I look forward to seeing many of you at the release party next spring!
Over the weekend, my wheelchair stopped working during a walk across the Stone Arch Bridge. The power toggle switch had been glitchy last week and I probably should have stayed home, but the gorgeous weather and a desire to see Looper compelled me to abandon caution to the wind. Fortunately, I was able to get a taxi ride home. My equipment vendor is now working on finding a replacement part for my aging wheelchair.
These assorted tech failures are beginning to wear a little thin. As I’ve noted previously, wheelchair malfunctions are particularly frustrating because they leave me housebound until they can be fixed. It may be time to start the process of getting a new wheelchair approved before this one becomes the gimp equivalent of a rusted-out car resting on cement blocks on the front lawn.
The gremlins have avoided my computer, at least. But at this rate, I may have to start staying up nights with all the lights on to stand guard.
My local movie theater will be closing its doors next week, leaving only a couple remaining tenants in the troubled Block E development. The news isn’t a surprise; the theater lost a legal battle to extend its lease months ago. But for downtown residents like me, it’s a frustrating reminder that the city can’t figure out how to develop a downtown core beyond restaurants and nightclubs. And it didn’t help matters when Block E was acquired by developers more interested in opening a casino than in making downtown more livable. I doubt that most other major American cities have difficulty keeping a movie theater downtown. I hear that some cities even have more than one.
The theater itself was no gem. It had the cavernous look and feel of a suburban multiplex plopped unceremoniously in the middle of downtown (which is probably why it failed). But I enjoyed walking to the theater via the skyway on a rainy or snowy afternoon. It felt like a very urban thing to do. Now I’ll have to schlep out to the suburbs, or at least Uptown, to see a movie. Perhaps a more savvy developer will eventually open a new downtown theater that looks like it belongs in the city. Until then, look for me at your local mall-based megaplex. I’ll be the one waiting in line with a scowl on my face.
After 25 years of using the same model of ventilator, I’ve completely switched to the newer and smaller Trilogy. It feels a bit different than what I’m used to, but I’m sure I’ll adapt soon enough. But I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for the sturdy old LP-10. It accompanied me from early adolescence to middle age without failing me once. It even survived being dropped a few times. When I build my panic room to keep out the rampaging zombie hordes, I’ll stock it with a few LP-10s.
I am one spoiled cripple. I was reminded of this again today when I had to take the local paratransit service to and from work. What’s normally a twenty-minute commute in my own van became a sixty or ninety-minute journey into aggravation. I respect anyone who uses the service on a daily basis; it requires patience and fortitude. I’ll have my van back in a few days, but I get ulcers just thinking about having to depend on paratransit on a daily basis.
Like I said, spoiled cripple here.
My ventilator alarmed unexpectedly during a packed meeting today. It was nothing serious and it’s happened before, but it’s a bit awkward to be the sudden focus of attention in the room. My co-workers weren’t fazed (they’ve heard my alarms before), but others probably wondered why I was in a conference room instead of the ICU. Afterwards, one of my colleagues joked that I was bored and wanted a break. And now I must confess: during high school, I would sometimes slip out of a particularly boring class under the pretense that I needed suctioning or some other medical intervention. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I still somehow managed to avoid a life of total slackerdom. Now, I’m more inclined to gasp for breath than miss part of a meeting.
Maturity!
Somebody had better figure out a way to upload my consciousness into a much better-looking robotic body because I ain’t getting any younger. But aside from a little more graying at the temples and an inability to stay awake past one in the morning, I seem to be holding up remarkably well with nary a mid-life crisis in sight. Let’s hope the final year of my thirties continues that trend and delivers a few pleasant surprises as I make the final approach to forty. And I hope you’ll stick around to see what happens next.
Someone recently said to me, “You’re pretty normal, except for being an atheist.” And so I was reminded yet again that most Americans still believe that atheists are kind of icky. While I can appreciate that the lack of belief in God is deeply foreign to many people, I’m still struck how much emphasis people place on it as a defining characteristic. Nurses have introduced me to their friends as “my boss, the atheist I told you about.” A girlfriend once pleaded with me to not mention my lack of belief to her parents. If asked to list my most interesting qualities, I don’t think my metaphysical views would crack the top twenty. But others seem to regard it with a weird mix of fascination, fear, and pity. It’s eerily similar to how many respond to my disability.
I certainly don’t try to inhabit the margins of Americans’ comfort zones, but it seems to be something I do with ease.
I’m going to spend the weekend clicking monsters to death in Diablo III and testing Comcast’s commitment to suspending its broadband cap. See you on the Monday side of things.