So I signed up for a World of Warcraft account. This could either be a lot of fun or a huge mistake. You may recall that I previously made a brief foray into the land of Azeroth, but I recently made a return trip and decided it merited a longer stay this time. The game really does an excellent job of triggering my “just a few minutes more” response. If you come across a night elf priest named Kalendi who moves around in a somewhat herky-jerky fashion, stop and say hello. I probably won’t be as loquacious as I am on this blog, but I should be able to manage to muster a quick “hi”.

I really should program some keyboard macros for frequently used game phrases like “Heal me!”, “Where’s the inn?”, or “Kid, who taught you how to spell?”

I’m not a Twitter user, mostly because I don’t see the point. Between this blog and my Facebook page, anyone curious enough has ample opportunity to find out what’s going on inside my head. But it’s still exciting to see University of Wisconsin researchers using a neural computer interface to compose Twitter messages. The researchers point out that Twitter is ideally suited to this kind of interface because sending a tweet takes relatively few steps.

This technology is bound to become more responsive and easier to use, but that’s probably all the more reason for me to stay away from Twitter. If the interface is too sensitive, it might start broadcasting tweets from my subconscious:

• really have to pee
• wonder if I have any Pringles left at home
  
• OMG fishnets!

The great thing about art is that it doesn’t require any special training or education. All that’s needed is the urge to create and access to the necessary tools. Make is a documentary that tells the stories of four artists with disabilities who dwelled at the edges of mainstream society, but still managed to create unique and provocative works. One of the artists, Judith Scott, had Down’s Syndrome and found her medium in intricate sculptures of yarn and found objects. Another artist, Royal Robertson, coped with mental illness and painted strangely beautiful images that fused elements of pop culture and religious iconography.

Many artists with disabilities don’t have the wherewithal to promote their own work and are dependent on others, like the producers of this documentary, to get the public’s attention. It makes me wonder about all the anonymous people who created something worth preserving while living in institutions, psychiatric hospitals, and group homes across the country, but whose work is now lost because it was discarded by a family member or caregiver.

Make is showing at the Rico/Maresca Gallery in New York on Saturday evenings through May 2nd. 

My eyelids get heavy even when I overhear someone utter the word “baseball”, but I’d pony up the money for a ticket to a game at the new uber-accessible Yankee Stadium. I’m accustomed to seeing disability seating in sports venues clustered in a few spots (and usually priced at a premium), but the new ballpark has disability and companion seating scattered throughout the whole park, even the cheap seats. The dugouts and fields are also accessible, which means fans with disabilities will be able to rush the field along with everyone else when the Yankees win the next pennant. The team will also provide assistive listening devices and game programs printed in Braille and large print.

I recently walked by the nearly-complete Target Field (only the Yankee have the resources to avoid slapping a corporate logo on their stadium), the new home for the Twins which opens next year. I’m hopeful it will provide a similar level of accessibility.

Last week, my sister attempted to make brunch reservations at a popular local restaurant that shall remain nameless. My sister explained that she needed reservations for six, including one person in a wheelchair. The hostess informed my sister that she could accommodate everyone in the party except for the person in the wheelchair. My sister protested and asked to speak to the manager. The hostess called my sister back a short while later and backtracked on her earlier prohibition on me and my wheelchair entering her restaurant.

I understand that restaurants have space issues, particularly during busy weekends. But we could have made the reservations without mentioning my disability, shown up at the restaurant, and let the staff decide at that moment whether to accommodate. And it’s a good illustration of how disability bias differs from other kinds of bias. I don’t encounter many people who outright hate me because of my disability. Instead, I’m usually seen as an inconvenient presence, an unexpected and confounding interruption to someone’s daily routine. It’s easier to ignore me rather than figure out how to accommodate me. It’s a perfectly human reaction that can usually be countered with a judicious mix of humor and patience, but there are times when I get weary of being a mobile teachable moment and just want to shove someone into the path of the oncoming clue train.