We're all just so darn special.

Am I the only one who thinks that the term "special needs" is not only annoying, it's also somewhat patronizing?

Seriously. The more I watch the presidential debates (*cough* GO OBAMA!! *cough* oops, straying off topic...lmao) the more I want to vomit all over my TV screen every time I hear the term "special needs". And it didn't escape my notice that the other night, McCain actually had the audacity to use the term "very special needs"! Oh, so now we're very special?? I guess the normies weren't content enough to just label us plain old special!

I mean, I know special means unique and unique means different and we are different, technically, it's just...it seems so condescending. I know! Let's ask the dictionary!

Hmmmmm...I didn't realize there'd be so many definitions for one of my most hated words of all time! But one of the definitions for special seems to fit my point...

spe·cial–adjective: extraordinary; exceptional, as in amount or degree; especial

Someone please gag me. I mean, I know crips are fabulous and all, but I wouldn't call us extraordinary or exceptional. We're just ordinary old people with some extra challenges to face.

In other news on Spaz Girl's Political Rants, I started a post on Sarah Palin forever ago that I never finished. Maybe I should go do that now...

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And here it comes...my rant on Sarah Palin.

OK, I've been waiting for a chance to post this for a long time. Let me make this LOUD and clear: I HATE SARAH PALIN!! You would think I'd be all for her, right, with all this talk she's touting about the disabled having "a friend in the White House"? Hah, guess again. She's a liar and a phony and I despise the way she's exploiting that poor son of hers.

That's right. "That poor son of hers." Oh no, I don't feel bad for him because he has Down Syndrome. Sorry, I'm not going for that. You all know how I feel about pity-it makes me want to GAG!!! I feel bad for him because he's being shamlessly exploited by his own mother and he's too young to even know it.

Take a look at her website. Instead of anything substantial on her views, there's a rather large and fluffy page devoted to "comments and blessings" on her son, Trig. Also notice that in the picture to the right of the site page, she's holding her son. She was also holding her son when she made her acceptance speech. She's obviously going for the pity factor to get more votes. It makes me SICK the way she's exploiting that baby.

In her acceptance speech, Sarah Palin said "And children with special needs inspire a special love." Ugggggggh....we're all just so special! Ah, no, we're people. To me, the word "special" used in relation to disabled people, as well as the term "special needs" is condescending and idiotic. I want to ban it. Why should we be loved any different than a "normal" child? Aren't we just as important as a "normal" child, aren't we on equal terms with a "normal" child? Apparently Sarah Palin doesn't think so.

And did anyone else notice the other night when a question came up about autism and McCain said Sarah Palin would know better about autism than he would?! I mean, what was up with that?! He can't possibly have been lumping autism and Down Syndrome together, can he? God almighty, please tell me he did not do that! And as for Palin's supposed understanding of autism, have you heard she's being sued by the family of an autistic boy because she won't provide 24 hr care? Uh huh. Check it out. And you can also read the First Amended Complaint of the case here. That's understanding, all right.

All I can say is that if McCain/Palin win, us crips are in serious trouble.

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I have a brain, thank you.

The trials of being a short bus rider...

Short buses usually have an aide on the bus, more commonly known among us crips as a driver's assistant or D.A. These aides are supposed to help you with various things, but most of the time they're pretty much useless. Other than that, though, I've never really had a problem with them. Until now.

The D.A on my morning bus seems convinced that me and my fellow cripples are mentally retarded. She has continually tried to help me put on my seatbelt, and when I put it on *gasp* she gives me a thumbs up and says "Good girl." in the tone you'd normally use for a puppy. She has also told me to "move my pretty toe" when she's wheeling my friend into her spot. She's terrified that my other friend is going to crash her power wheelchair when she's a perfectly capable driver. Basically, she thinks we have no brains. It's half funny and half infuriating. And it's only the second week of school! God knows how I'm going to put up with her for the rest of the year...

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Candidly Crippled is now Butterfly Dreams!

Yes, I've changed the title of the blog. Yes, I have also changed the layout (isn't it BEAUTIFUL?? I found it online and absolutely fell in love with it). No, the link has not changed. And yes, like all things I do, I had a reason for the switch.

The butterfly has always been of particular importance to me, because it represents freedom. It is also the symbol of the summer camp for kids with physical disabilities that has given me unimaginable freedom over the past four years. The metaphor of the butterfly applies to my life in infinite ways. As I get older, and become more independent, I spread my wings a little more, and soon I will take off and fly away, on my own. I have undergone many metamorphoses in the past few years: not the least of them, my transformation from a "normal" kid that just couldn't keep up with her peers to a full out cripple. This particular change in point of view has been brought about by a number of factors-my gradual drifting away from my able-bodied classmates and my summers at camp among those who are cripples and proud come to mind. I have realized that being "normal" is overrated, and being a little freakish isn't so bad. Showing my true colors is better than not showing any colors at all.

And finally for the second part of my new title-dreams. Dreams are also very significant in my life-I've learned throughout my 16 years on this earth that there is no such thing as an impossible dream, that through hard work and perseverence you can make your dreams come true, even those that may seem crazy. I had a dream to help other people with disabilities: I made it happen. I had a dream to dance and move my body to music just like a "normal" girl. And although our style may not be as graceful or as poised as a typical ballerina, the girls of our class have more spirit and drive than anyone I've ever seen. I had a dream that one day I'd feel like I belonged somewhere-and I've found it. Dreams do come true.

So what do you think? Nicer than the old blog, huh? I'm starting school tomorrow (yikes! definitely not the place where I belong!) so I won't be able to blog for awhile, but just know that I'm still here and I still have plenty of ideas for this blog.

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Not Just Another Camp

For years I have been trying to explain to people, verbally and in writing, what exactly is it about camp that I love so much and crave so much during the year. While I was mulling over this question, an essay kind of poured out of me, which I would like to share with you. It's edited a little bit so as not to reveal any personal information, but I think it's the closest I'm going to get to expressing the magic of camp.

I know a place that is my own utopia. Here, all barriers, whether physical or mental in nature are broken down within a matter of days, something the world's leaders could only dream about. People of all cultures, races, beliefs, and abilities live, laugh and love in harmony, without fear of being judged. We stand (or sit) proud of who we are, unafraid and unashamed. Stereotypes are quickly proven wrong in this perfect place, and soon you forget that you ever saw those around you as anything less than friends, comrades, and most of all equals. Our differences are embraced, making up the rich mosaic of what our society should be, but isn't-yet. Four summers in this place have taught me infinitely many lessons-not all of them easy to learn. I have come to realize that we are not broken toys waiting to be fixed; rather, we are strong, independent human beings with hearts, minds, and spirits of our own. The freedom I have found here far exceeds anything that could be written law; it is incomprehensible and inexplicable. I feel like the phoenix-rising from the ashes to take flight once more. Leaders of the world today would be astonished at the microcosmic potential of a little camp for cripples nestled quietly in an unobtrusive town. If only those leaders would stop looking for answers in craftily worded doctrines and realize the peace and acceptance that has been going on nearly under their noses all this time. If only everyone could know the power of camp, I firmly believe that the world would be a better place.

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Normalized

First off, I'm so sorry to anyone who actually reads this blog that I haven't posted in awhile. I got very busy with school towards the end of the year and then right at the end of June I left for camp for three weeks, so I haven't had much time to post. But rest assured the blog ideas have been piling up in my head and I'm finally going to sit down and write them all down.

It's camp which I would like to discuss now. I go to a camp for physically challenged kids*. It is one of the most amazing places in the world, and this is my fourth year there. Every year there are new counselors, new campers, and new experiences. One of my favorite parts of camp is seeing the transformation in the counselors and teaching them about our crippled world. I could go on for hours about camp, but I'm going to split my musings into different posts.

One of my counselors this year was very adament about the word "crippled". She prefered to use the phrase "physically limited". I tried to explain to her, several times, why I use the word crippled as I do, as a term of pride. I knew why the word "crippled" bothered her so much: it has such negative connotations to it. What I couldn't figure out for the longest time was why "physically limited" bothered me almost as much as "crippled" bothered her. Finally I figured it out: to me, the phrase "physically limited" is yet another attempt to "normalize" us.

What exactly is "normalizing"? It's an attempt by a "normal" person to fit crippled people into the "normal" mold, to make us less disabled, because we're not supposed to be disabled. It's an effort to make us closer to what we're supposed to be. But as we all know, me and most of my crippled brethren do not like being ordinary. Most people try to "normalize" us without even realizing it, round off our square corners, because anything different scares them. And it's normalizing that has really begun to bother me in the last few months. Let me say it straight out, for anyone who might've missed it: I. DO NOT. WANT. TO. BE. NORMAL. I am very happy the way I am. I am a crip, and don't try and deny it, or sugarcoat it. I LIKE being a crip. I LIKE being different, and I LIKE not fitting into any sort of mold or stereotype. I'm a square peg trying to fit in a round hole, and it's not gonna work. I like standing out. And sometimes, standing out scares people, whether they know it or not. And sometimes standing out is harder than fitting in. But I'd rather risk it all to stand out, then to be boring and fit in all my life. I will not stand to be normalized. I will die before I let someone normalize me. Don't be ashamed of your crippled culture. Say it loud: I'm crippled and proud!

"To be fearless when I'm scared to move

I'm overdue

Daring to be different

To scream yes, yeah I'm awake

I will not break

Daring to, daring to be different"

-Daring to Be Different by Everlife

*if anyone would like more information on my camp, feel free to contact me privately

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Oh, you don't need that...

Sorry I haven't updated in awhile. Too much going on with school and everything, I was lucky if I found the time to check my email. But now school's over, and I have a very small window of time before I leave for camp. But onto the post.

Over the last week, I have had a number of people try and convince me that I don't need the modifications/equipment I have and/or are trying to secure. It all started when my OT commented on my neat handwriting. She knows I use an Alpha-Smart for notes, so when she saw my neat handwriting she said: "Oh, I don't even see why you need an Alpha-Smart!" Now, as any person who knows me would tell you, the reason I use an Alpha-Smart is not because my handwriting is messy, far from it. The reason I use an Alpha-Smart is because I hold a pen very awkwardly due to my CP and this results in hand pain if I even write as much as one sentence. Needless to say, I hastily tried to explain this to her before she could march up to the special ed department and demand that an Alpha-Smart be removed from my IEP. She didn't look convinced...what, am I lying now?

Then last night my dad was on the phone with the Scooter Store (yes, that is the name of the store), trying to get the scooter that I need. I can't walk long distances, and since I'm going to college in a few years, I need some sort of vehicle to save my stamina so I don't collapse upon arriving at class. There's a ton of red tape and stupid stuff to wade through before you actually get a scooter, especially if you're not filthy rich, so my dad was trying to coordinate things between the Scooter Store, my orthopedist, and the insurance company. And guess what? Apparently our insurance doesn't cover a scooter/powerchair unless you can prove that you need it for use INSIDE!! So since I walk inside, I must not need a scooter! The truth is out! Yes, that's right, I just want a scooter for a nice ride, like a car, but less expensive! Grr...

And then today put the icing on the cake. It's on my IEP that if I need it, I can dictate and someone will write my answers for me. I don't use a writer unless I'm truly desperate, so when the teacher in my room for the math regents today asked me if I wanted her to write for me, I politely declined. Later, when I was handing in the test, the teacher was flipping through my answer booklet, and she goes "Oh, you don't need a writer, your handwriting's perfect!" *explodes with annoyance* Uh, yeah, and do you know how much my hand hurt after that test? I just kind of smiled and was like "Oh, my hand gets tired really easily." because I didn't feel like going into the whole explanation. Hmm....maybe if my hand falls off, they'll finally believe me! I don't have to prove myself, people. I am not learning disabled or any of the other stereotypes you try and put me in. I am purely physically disabled. Is that so hard to comprehend?

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