Tag Archives: Rant

Waiting For A Reply

Over the past week or two I’ve been sort-of-half-in-touch with several musicians. I’ve posted several ads on Craigslist because I want to either join or start a band and I’ve been impatient. I mean really impatient. Part of it is that someone will read my ad and send me a note, so I’ll reply to them and then never hear back. Yesterday I got a note from a guy saying that he and his band are looking for a lead singer and they’d be interested in having me. He even said I was better than their previous singer. The one potentially problematic issue was that they live kind of far away.

I was really excited, so I sent him a note with my phone number saying I’d like to ask some questions and talk about stuff. So of course I’ve checked my email a million times today waiting for something. Anything. But of course, there’s nothing. I know I’m being impatient. It hasn’t even been twenty four hours and I’ve already considered putting yet another ad on Craigslist. I really want this to happen, though. They’re an established, committed band, and even though they don’t play the kind of music I write, I like their style. I could write for them. When I started taking guitar lessons, I wanted to be in a punk band. These guys play the kind of music I wanted to play but couldn’t because I’m just one person. Out of necessity, and because I like it, I write pop/folk music. I can branch out, and I want to.

I really want this guy to call me, or at least send me an email with I time he could. I’m so tired of making music by myself. I can write, but I have no idea how to get gigs. These guys can teach me. I can work with them, and I can learn how to promote my own material. I could perform and be successful with these guys. I listened to a couple of their songs, and I wasn’t wild about their lyrics, but they’re great musicians. With my lyrics and their musical talent we could be really great. I want to be part of this. I’m kind of losing my mind.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

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What Can And Can’t Be Done

Saturday was a rather musical day for me. We got home late from Maine on Friday, accompanied by my new friend, Ivan (Romanian violin). I didn’t have much time to play with him that night, so after lunch on Saturday I spent a while experimenting with different ways of holding the instrument and fingering the neck. As I’ve mentioned before, I can  play it sort of like one would play a cello. I hold the neck of the instrument up near my neck and reach down with the bow to play the strings. I was having to worry too much about it sliding, so yesterday my dad built me a little metal brace that holds it steady. As it is, I can almost kinda sorta play a major scale. I initially thought the lack of frets was going to be more of an issue, but my ear is good enough by now that it doesn’t seem like it’s going to matter that much. Yesterday I played for several hours because I can’t really even go outside at the moment. I’m allergic to something that’s in bloom right now, and it’s killing me. I figured out how to play a very squeaky version of Ode To Joy, as well as some improvised melodies. I quite glad with the progress I’ve made so far.

Nobody thought this was going to be a good idea. A lot of people thought I was going to waste a bunch of money on an instrument I wasn’t going to be able to play. I will most definitely be able to play it and make pretty things happen, so eat it, doubters! I love proving people wrong. It’s one of my favorite things to do. I’ve been able to figure out how to do just about everything I’ve wanted to–with the exception of skateboarding. That one would probably be a little tricky.

The guy who made my violin was super helpful and encouraging. He had a whole bunch of suggestions and was completely open to me finding an alternative way of playing. We need more people like him in the world. Picking out a violin and doing some experimenting at the shop reminded me of my first guitar lesson almost eight years ago. In short my teacher’s approach was: Well, this is how you’re supposed to do it, but it looks like we’re gonna have to do things your way, so let’s get down to business.

That’s the point. I don’t do things “the normal way.” I do things Katie style, but the fact of the matter is, I do things. There isn’t just one way of doing anything. I open doors with my feet more than half the time. My bird has learned to climb up my wheelchair to get off the floor. The more people are convinced that I won’t be able to do something, the harder I will try to get it done.

I find that people, especially people in the school system, are way too quick to assume that people are incapable. The special education department at my school practically controlled my life until I went to high school when, in fact, they simply wouldn’t listen to me. They thought I was incapable of focusing or getting anything done, so they assigned me an aid and hovered over me for eight years when the truth was I was bored. I was a normal kid who would have figured it out eventually. I would have got some bad grades, my parents would have nagged me, and that would have been the end of it. Instead I coasted and school took care of itself. For many years I didn’t care because I was a lazy kid who thought she was getting a free ride. You start to care about what other people think of you in middle school, though, and I realized that people were seeing me as broken. In my freshman year of high school, I wrote a strongly worded letter, using the best English I could possibly muster at age fourteen, and I fired them. After the first few weeks of my freshman year, I was free.

Don’t underestimate people, but more importantly, don’t crush their will. I’m a stubborn, outspoken person. My “issues” are only physical. Things can be harder and more intimidating when people have intellectual issues. This isn’t always the case, but it seems to be at least somewhat true from what I’ve seen as a mentor. Don’t tell anyone what they can and can’t do. Don’t talk to their parents about them while they’re standing right there. Don’t assume anyone can’t do something just because it looks difficult or even impossible. Especially don’t do things for people without even letting them try. Be encouraging. Be annoying even. Make people step outside their comfort zone. Make them try things. They’ll surprise themselves and they’ll surprise you.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

The Word I Hate The Most

I really hate the word “disabled.” It sounds like there’s something wrong with me. I’ve been working on my story for the past couple of hours, and many of my characters have some kind of “disability.” Kithryd is paralyzed, and Iris has intense anxiety. Kithryd has telekinesis, and Iris has pyrokinesis. Before you have to ask, yes, this is totally wish fulfillment.

A couple of days ago I found myself griping about how I’m not physically capable of doing a lot of things. Because my body isn’t “normal” I will have to live at home indefinitely unless I want to go through the giant hassle of, first of all, finding a place to live, and beyond that, figuring out how to get help with things. I need help with really basic stuff. I need help bathing and getting from my wheelchair to the shower or my bed or what have you. A lot of things that most people would consider very simple are rather complicated when you’re me.

Most of the time this stuff doesn’t bother me, but the other night I was griping. The thing is, I’m capable of a lot. I’m creative. I’m intelligent (yes I’m bragging). I love like a crazy person. I can write. I’m unreasonably optimistic. I try to be humble and spiritual. I asked God the other night why he would give me a mind that can understand the world, and a heart that loves it and wants it to be good… and a body that’s so broken. I actually used that word. Broken. There’s something really screwed up about that.

When I was born I was diagnosed with a kind of Muscular Dystrophy that was supposed to kill me by the age of three. I believe I’m alive today because my mom prayed, and God spared my life. If I wasn’t supposed to be alive I wouldn’t be here. For the record, I am still undiagnosed. The doctors can’t figure me out, and you have no idea how hilarious that is to me. I revel in it.

I am not broken, and my characters are not broken. This stuff is on my mind now because I was working on the political and social atmosphere of my story. A lot of my story is meant to be about what’s going on politically, as well as the actual actions my characters take. After World War III, which took place around fifty or so years before my present story, the world’s population was almost wiped out, and many of the following generation (about 30%) were born with some kind of “disability,” however, they also tended to have various psychic powers. The corrupt government in my story started using propaganda to get the public to believe that these people were somehow “less,” and that many of them were even criminals because of their abilities. This is not necessarily the focus of my story, but it is going to be a prevalent part of the atmosphere.

The point is that when I was writing out my plans, the word “disabled” kept popping up, and this started to get under my skin. This word is so ingrained in our culture, that even I couldn’t think of a word to replace it. I am not disabled because God made me who I am. I’m not perfect, either, but I’m certainly not broken. The word “disabled” implies that there is something wrong with me. When talking about these things people focus on the things that people like me can’t do. People have to be unusually nice to people like me because our lives are so difficult. Our lives must be awful.

There is nothing wrong with me. I use wheels instead of feet to get around. I learned how to adapt so I could play guitar upside down. I intend to learn how to play violin. I can write ludicrously complicated stories. I was the first of my friends to graduate college. I have dreams. I want to change the world. How is that the mark of someone who is broken? How is that the mark of someone who is “disabled?” I’ll admit that I need help with basic stuff. This annoys me sometimes, but it is how it is and it’s not going to change, and it doesn’t mean anything. It especially doesn’t mean that I should be pitied. That is probably the worst thing you can do. Do not pity me. Do not pity us.

You know what? There is no “you and me.” There is no “us and them.” We’re all just different. I might not be able to get a job at Starbucks to make a little extra money (which believe me, I want to do), but I can teach middle school kids who Jesus is. I can love-spam the internet. I can express my ideas, and the ideas of others concisely and coherently. I can dream. I can trust that, despite the complications, I, and the rest of the world, are part of something excellent. I can stubbornly believe that everything will be better than okay. I can hold on to the fact that I, with all my weird quirks, am made in the image of God, and I am not broken.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

Confessions Of A Gospel Snob

I’m kind of tired of the New Testament. Earlier this summer I decided I would read the Bible cover to cover, so for the past several weeks I’ve been making my way through Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, and now, I’m in Numbers. It’s been both strange and refreshing. Honestly, I’m just kind of tired of the same old Christian posts on here and Facebook, and quite frankly, everywhere else. A lot of us (I’m sure I’m guilty, too) tend to just cycle through the same old ideas, and while they’re still true, and always will be, they just start to sound empty.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the message of the Gospel. I love Jesus. It’s all good over here. I just think that we need to find some new way of talking about it. Put it this way: it’s not cool. I know that’s not the point, and maybe you can’t express it in a way that’s “cool,” I also think that we need to get creative, especially if we’re going to teach the Gospel to younger people, and especially the next generation. I don’t know whether or not my brother is planning on ever having kids, but if he is, I want to make sure they know who Jesus is. I don’t know if I can trust my brother enough to do that (at least right now). I honestly have no idea what he believes. He’s an enigma to me. I can’t get a straight answer out of him, either. Alas.

What Iv’e read so far of the Old Testament has been interesting. Some things have been surprising. Some of the things God requires of Israel, and some of the things he does are confusing. It’s certainly different than the teaching of the Catholic Church in a lot of ways. I’m very interested to read the New Testament in perspective. I’m enjoying reading the Bible like this. I’m just focusing on it like it’s a story or a text book, which is different from my usual take on it (for obvious reasons). I think it’s actually helpful to view it in this way, which I haven’t done before, outside of school. The last time I did this kind of thing was four years ago, and that was for school.

I want to know God better. I don’t read the Bible enough. Some people read it every day. I think I’m just stubborn. I convince myself that I’m to busy, but I’m really not. I’m finding lately that I’m not very good at prayer. I find it difficult. I think I’ve always kind of had this problem, but I just haven’t noticed it. I probably just think too much about it. I don’t pray about what I’m reading. I probably should.

I trust God, and I love him. I can honestly say that because I’ve made it through some rocky places and come out better for the trouble. I think too much. It’s a giant pain in the neck sometimes. I’m a superstitious person. Before I was Christian I was willing to believe just about anything, and now that I am Christian, I’m willing to believe a lot (i.e. all my eggs are in one basket). I’m stubborn about it, too. That’s why I think we need to change the way the Gospel is presented. We need to make it “cool” while still being truthful. I’m not sure how to do that, but I’m sure we can figure it out. I definitely think music helps. Music is super helpful, actually. We need to exploit every medium we can. Not only that, but we need to invent new ways of expressing things. I know I’ve done this rant before, so I’ll shut up now.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!