Over Reacting?

Am I over reacting to the news about the new Rogan movie? I made the choice to make my friends, male and female aware of the rape scene. Most of them either didn’t care or thought I was over reacting.

“Don’t get mad.” “I don’t care.” “It doesn’t effect me.” My choice to become angry earned me dozens of people telling me my upset is invalid. The movie looks funny to them. I have yet to find any Rogan film actually funny, but trying to warn them to protect my friends has only gained me treatment that I would never offer them. In trying to explain why a date rape scene as comedy is not funny, I am told instead to stop over reacting.

How is wanting to protect someone an over reaction? Yes I asked for a boycott but I didn’t ask for proof or an answer. I didn’t explain well, when being told there is no sexism in movies like Knocked Up. There isn’t? I am not going to list the instances, unless someone really requests it because that will take me hours. I do not have the time right this second.

I am tired of spoon feeding people answers. I am tired of being cussed at, told to not have an opinion, and treated like garbage. I am tired of the temptation to cuss back. Why should I be cussed at when I tell someone we need to change the subject four times, and get angry? Why are my emotions invalid?

I am not over reacting. The idea of paying to see a film and having a very real trauma treated as a joke disgusts me. The idea that any actor or actress would choose to portray these roles disturbs me. “Don’t Blame Rogan.” Why? Actors and Actresses are allowed to speak up, especially established actors. Rogan qualifies. He and Ferris both could have said no. Neither did.

Why shouldn’t I react? Why should I passively sit back and let it go? Why do I have to manually link, explain, and define everything? What happened to the freedom of thought? I know those of you reading this actually do think. I am sorry for the blanket questions, yet there is a huge gap out there.

Does age really invalidate the need for critical thinking? I am not sure that my brain qualifies me to try and guess what others think. I don’t really know what the development of a normal person is. Trauma alone changed my needs and the skills that come with survival. Is it wrong for me to expect a person who is well aware of their enviroment and the abuses that are surrounding them to free themselves? Why wait it out? What good does that do you? What if you do not survive the waiting period?

Is it wrong for me to find someone saying that my choice to not curse, even when extremely angry, is a superiority complex silly? I don’t think so but what about the typical person? I use the word typical here to mean someone who is not Autustic, someone who is not a sufferer of abuse. Someone else.

Why is it wrong to react with passion to something that should be criminal? Why is it wrong to expect someone to at least take slight notice of the patriarchy? I always have. I have always been aware of the sexism and pecking order in the world. Aside from choice how can you be blind to it? How can you not see what is slapping you in the face daily? What makes you choose that?
Yes, there are a lot of questions here but, I think they are valid. Most are hypothetical, but if you can answer them please do.

Also, I am requesting that you boycott the new Seth Rogan movie Observe and Report. Imagine paying to have flashbacks? That’s what has me prickling like a hedgehog. I can’t really imagine paying to watch any woman act like an under educated nitwit either, but, some people find sexism and degredation funny apparently.

One last question. Is it wrong for me, to regardless of age, expect the same respect I offer people by not cursing? Why should I allow someone to call be names just to satisfy their immaturity? Does being a teenager mean I should have higher standards or should I lower them and let people degrade themselves? Should I let the people in my life treat me like crap because they expect me to allow this? I choose to say something when someone curses at me, but, each time there is always just another name. Do I cut them out as I have other people who hurt me? Is that an over reaction or is it just temptation for self preservation?

Cracks in the Facade

I had planned something else to write today. I even wrote it. My brain was going one way and I believed I had written my masterpiece. There was no wrong in it. I wound up passing out, sprawled across my bed with Sprite waiting for me to come back around. My brain misfired for about three hours this afternoon and I was online. I had conversations with people that made absolutely no sense. This tested a newer online friend’s ability to tolerate. He was very nice about it, but, I realized this has happened with more and more frequency. I also wrote a mess of gibberish that held no intrinsic value, except for comedy.

This occurrence usually fills me with dread. What have I done without being aware? What was real? What was false? This time, I am certain in my reality. I do not have someone whispering in my ear that I am crazy and forgetful. I just had a malfunction in my software. I am not sure if this is from uncontrolled pain, the Aspergers, or the Brain Damage that sometimes rears it’s head. Normally I have seizures around these times too. If I did, it was while I was already passed out. I also don’t usually remember everything intended, there are usually gaping holes.

This could be progress, I could be adapting to the new state of affairs in my skull. I do not know. The memories, while complete, do contain some oddities. For example, the real conversation with a friend went like this:

Me: http://ihasahotdog.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/funny-dog-pictures-wind-teef.jpg
Him: Ah hah.
Him: Before I click the link …what is that suppose to be?
Me: doggy
Him: Cheek flapping fun.
Me: ya
Me: yudpggy
Him: Is that a combination of a yard and a pig?

This is a small excerpt from the Instant Message, my coherency went down hill. What I thought I was saying was more like this:

Me: http://ihasahotdog.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/funny-dog-pictures-wind-teef.jpg
Him: Ah hah.
Him: Before I click the link …what is that suppose to be?
Me: A loldog, from the Failblog people.
Him: Cheek flapping fun.
Me: Yeah.
Me: Do you have a dog?
Him: Is that a combination of a yard and a pig?

Upon waking I noticed the tail end of that conversation, it was very weird. I had a unique reaction however. Instead of being told I was being an idiot, must be on drugs or being treated like crap, I was asked if I was alright. I was given kindness and courtesy. The internet is relatively new, in the realm of humanity and has so far shown itself to be prone to toxic behavior. There will always be pockets of this sort of problem behavior, anonymous bullying, and yet as the internet grows and becomes a normal part of what is expected in society, the need to be cruel seems to be shifting and changing. It feels drastic.

The complexity of my medical care throws up more and more barriers. My reality isn’t always what I think it is. I live in a world that is of my own perspective, but it must be one where I can interact with others. Each time something like this happens, brain static as I call it, I grow more afraid to function in the world. Of course, I have been told as have you, that anything that could be percieved as not normal is the worst ting in the world.

There are cracks in those lies of social normative behavior. There is no reason that we cannot exist in a world with gay marriage, there is no reason why we cannot accommodate persons of short stature, those with disabilities, and have lives that are free of complaint for those without the needs. There is no reason for us to go hungry. There is no reason to say that the status quo at this time is actually worthy of us. We deserve more.

There are people who get deemed insane because they have a bad day. There are people who are supposedly sane, but, later that quiet neighbor turns out to have been a person capable of great evil. The world isn’t as beautiful as I want it to be. I see the beauty more than the faults most of the time. I cannot over look the cracks in the facade.

They mean two things. One, the perception of normal is changing. This means of course that the extremes we see on TV, where people are called fat if they do not meet a rare body standard, where there is no mix of race without it being blatent and a token gesture, and where the disabled rarely are seen in a good way, are not always accepted by the viewer.

This also means that the advocacy that myself and others perform makes a difference. Every challenge, every pain, has been worth it because of this fact. People are learning, people are growing, and the acceptance of the humanity that exists beyond able bodied white men really is there. The internet helps with this too.

Beyond my fingers, as the keyboard responds to my touch, you cannot see my face unless I desire it. I can be any person online. This is frightening in the realm of sexual exploitation. It is also freeing, I am not trapped by my body. I can go onto a program such as IMVU and I can walk. I can also go onto that program and be a giant cat in a wheelchair. With the lack of visual, there is a greater chance of universal acceptance. Though the default presumption is still that you are a white man until stated otherwise, some of the people I have met become awakened to the very fact racism still exists because they have discovered that the person on the end of the wire is not a white man.

The world is changing, and it is changing for the better. This doesn’t mean Utopia happens tomorrow. This does mean we have to keep trying. This means that we have to advocate harder, these cracks were made by those beating their fists against the walls of oppression. We must continue to pound away, to pick at the injustice. Our lives may not reflect much change, it might be generations from now, but the change is happening. There are cracks in the Facade.

The Wheels on the Butt Go Round and Round…

Today is a busy day, and I hurt enough to make me want to not just crawl under a rock, but to make the rock cry to share my pain. This tactic is not healthy but it is very human, so, I must chant the mantra today that makes me feel the best. “Centered, warmth, healing light, none other shall have to face my plight. I am strong, I am beautiful, I am capable, and my bed waits for me to finish my tasks.” A little long but it helps me get going with a smile. I am eating a delicious breakfast made by my Male Person of Awesomeness, while he showers. The cats are both coming on our adventures today.

This will be our first time taking William Shakespurr out with us. Today’s activities consist of Veterinarian, Bank and the oh so fun Wheelchair Repair Trade off.  The wheels under my butt don’t want to go round and round. Since the first day I got my scooter things have been falling off. Getting it out the door to the house the first time I clipped the wall and lost a chunk of the plastic frame. The second time it was better but I clipped a rock at an SCA event (pebble sized) and lost a bit more. A rattle started a bit later and here we are Six Months into ownership of my own Personal Freedom Mobile, and it is broken.

Man of Awesome loaded it into the van and bumped an empty cardboard box, and the box won. The lights died and now half the time it won’t move. The scooter seems to be defective! What a concept right? It has had power issues the entire time I have dealt with it, but, I had no way of knowing it wasn;’t normal to have it whine, vibrate, jerk about, and rattle. The death rattle grew worse after it stalled out in the new apartment. I hit the wall goooood, and broke the plastic frame, and the entire system died for eight hours. I used the wall as a pillow, since my bed wasn’t home yet and everything else wasn;t here yet. I was the first piece of decoration in our apartment, a wall fixture I might add.

All comedy aside, this experience gave me a new light on the scooter. While it sucks horrible in many ways, those ways are made up for by the fact that I can race someone to the car, and WIN. First time in my life. I don’t have to try and brace my bosom so that they don’t smack me in the face, I don’t have to worry about a dislocated knee, I can zip right out there and not even break a sweat. I also have the freedom of leaving the house by myself for the first time in years. I don’t have to hide in my room if I want privacy and solitude, I merely have to get rolling.

The Maiden of ButtWheel Repair has warned that I might not be able to get this particular chair back, and that I might want to look at other designs. What I truly want is just a wheelchair shaped item, no long nose, just a nice, cushy chair. I would need to add on a few particulars, like a basket for the cat to sit in, and my sunshade, but, after that? I could maybe make it around some of the walls in the apartment, or maybe squish into that store that is barely inaccessible. Scooters add to the inaccessibility issue facing stores and their handicapped customers, though they are great for some people.

I already miss my wheels…

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