I've been meaning to blog about David Paterson every since he was granted the opportunity to become governor of New York. But time always got away from me, and I never got around to doing it. I guess I really wanted to write a thoughtful post. And up until this particular post, I really had very little that I wanted to publically say about this historical appointment.
Well, I found an article about the brotha that I felt was worth sharing. My next post will be my thoughts on the article, David Paterson, and reflections about my experiences with what this particular article is about, feeling ashamed about being blind.
So, check out the article. It's nice. And let me know what you think.
Perhaps tomorrow or another day this week, I will post my response to this article, as well as my thoughts on David Paterson and his historical appointment to the highest governmental office held by a blind person in the United States of America. (Shucks, probably the world...)
David Paterson: I was ashamed to be blind.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Sunday, June 15, 2008
The Six Foot Tall Kite and My Six Foot Tall Daddy: They both gave me some joy today.
I’m so excited!!! Today, on Father’s Day, about an hour and twenty minutes ago, I got a chance to do something that I always wanted to do. Something that I dreamed about doing when I was a child, a child that could see… I got a chance to fly a kite!!!
When I was a kid, I remember seeing some of the older kids in our neighborhood having a great time, flying beautiful, multicolored kites in the open, clear, blue sky. I would watch the kite as it soared above the earth, looking so free, so magical, so effortless. Then, I would trace the string of the kite back to the hand of the smiling kid that held on to the kite with delight. Boy, I wished that I was that kid for that brief, shining moment.
I would always ask my mother and father to please buy me a kite. But they never got a chance. At the age of ten, tragedy struck me, and I started losing my eye sight. The desire to fly a kite really had been pushed to the back of my mind by my desire to just survive another day. And my parent’s goal was to do everything in their power to help me grow into a healthy, productive, centered young woman despite my blindness. So needless to say, the opportunity to fly a kite really never presented itself to me. My folks and I were too busy trying to make it. We certainly weren’t thinking about kites.
Today all of that changed.
My baby sister, Kim, bought a kite that is six feet tall. The truth is that I have no idea what color it is. For some strange reason, I pictured it to be lime green. **shrug** I wonder why? Maybe it has something to do with my addiction to Mountain Dew... But anyway…
This morning, I told my mother that I always wanted to fly a kite. And I never got the chance to do it before I lost my sight. Well, my mother told me that if I wanted to fly a kite, go outside and fly one. She told me that the lack of eye sight had nothing to do with my ability to hold the kite as it flew in the sky.
Well, I went outside with my father and my two sisters, Frances and Kim. We waited outside for a couple of hours until the wind decided to visit us. Actually, Frances got tired of waiting, and she went back into the house.
Well, when the wind started blowing, I ran in the house and told Frances to come outside with me to fly the kite. Frances, who is always ready to clown around and have fun, ran outside to fly that big old kite.
We went out into the middle of the street, ready to do our thing. Well, Frances couldn’t really get the kite up in the air long enough for it to stay. So, my father came out to the street with us and helped Frances lift the kite into the sky.
Well, that kite took off and started flying above us. Frances brought the end of the string to me so that I could hold it. The kite lifted more and more in the sky, and the string unraveled more and more in my hand as the kite lifted into the open sky.
A feeling of complete joy and exhilaration filled my heart. I was overwhelmed. I felt so free, so accomplished, so thankful that I was getting a chance to do something that I always wanted to do.
And you know what… I didn’t give a dang that I couldn’t see. I was content as ever. I’m glad that I listened to mama, and didn’t allow my blindness to stop me from fulfilling a life long dream. And it also didn't matter that I was a good and grown woman. For that moment, as I was holding that kite, I was lost in time, standing in the crack between time and eternity. I was happy, and nothing else mattered for that moment.
What was even greater about holding that kite as it soared in the sky above me was the fact that I was out there flying that kite with my father. What a wonderful way to spend the afternoon on Father’s Day. I was flying a kite with my daddy. **huge smile** Just thinking about it right now makes my heart fill up with gladness.
Sometimes living gets on my nerves. But this afternoon, I was so glad that I was here, feeling the air blow against my face, hearing the laugh of Frances and Kim, anchoring the kite as it pulled from my hand, and sharing an unforgettable afternoon with the man that I love the most, my father. I live to have moments like that, moments that I can hold close to my heart and cherish for life. Even after me or Daddy have passed from this life, no matter who goes first, that memory will be left with one of us. What a wonderful gift.
Daddy, Happy Father’s Day! Thanks for always giving me your best. I wish you many more happy years. And I wish myself more happy years with you in my life.
Much love and more opportunities to fly a kite with my daddy,
Angela Braden
Thurman’s Oldest Child
(Yes, I’m pulling rank like that. **wink**)
P.S.
Happy Father’s Day to all you daddies who have accepted the challenge to protect, to provide for, to love, to teach, to direct, to expose, to embrace, to affirm, to connect with, to enjoy your children. I applaud you for being a man and doing what is right.
When I was a kid, I remember seeing some of the older kids in our neighborhood having a great time, flying beautiful, multicolored kites in the open, clear, blue sky. I would watch the kite as it soared above the earth, looking so free, so magical, so effortless. Then, I would trace the string of the kite back to the hand of the smiling kid that held on to the kite with delight. Boy, I wished that I was that kid for that brief, shining moment.
I would always ask my mother and father to please buy me a kite. But they never got a chance. At the age of ten, tragedy struck me, and I started losing my eye sight. The desire to fly a kite really had been pushed to the back of my mind by my desire to just survive another day. And my parent’s goal was to do everything in their power to help me grow into a healthy, productive, centered young woman despite my blindness. So needless to say, the opportunity to fly a kite really never presented itself to me. My folks and I were too busy trying to make it. We certainly weren’t thinking about kites.
Today all of that changed.
My baby sister, Kim, bought a kite that is six feet tall. The truth is that I have no idea what color it is. For some strange reason, I pictured it to be lime green. **shrug** I wonder why? Maybe it has something to do with my addiction to Mountain Dew... But anyway…
This morning, I told my mother that I always wanted to fly a kite. And I never got the chance to do it before I lost my sight. Well, my mother told me that if I wanted to fly a kite, go outside and fly one. She told me that the lack of eye sight had nothing to do with my ability to hold the kite as it flew in the sky.
Well, I went outside with my father and my two sisters, Frances and Kim. We waited outside for a couple of hours until the wind decided to visit us. Actually, Frances got tired of waiting, and she went back into the house.
Well, when the wind started blowing, I ran in the house and told Frances to come outside with me to fly the kite. Frances, who is always ready to clown around and have fun, ran outside to fly that big old kite.
We went out into the middle of the street, ready to do our thing. Well, Frances couldn’t really get the kite up in the air long enough for it to stay. So, my father came out to the street with us and helped Frances lift the kite into the sky.
Well, that kite took off and started flying above us. Frances brought the end of the string to me so that I could hold it. The kite lifted more and more in the sky, and the string unraveled more and more in my hand as the kite lifted into the open sky.
A feeling of complete joy and exhilaration filled my heart. I was overwhelmed. I felt so free, so accomplished, so thankful that I was getting a chance to do something that I always wanted to do.
And you know what… I didn’t give a dang that I couldn’t see. I was content as ever. I’m glad that I listened to mama, and didn’t allow my blindness to stop me from fulfilling a life long dream. And it also didn't matter that I was a good and grown woman. For that moment, as I was holding that kite, I was lost in time, standing in the crack between time and eternity. I was happy, and nothing else mattered for that moment.
What was even greater about holding that kite as it soared in the sky above me was the fact that I was out there flying that kite with my father. What a wonderful way to spend the afternoon on Father’s Day. I was flying a kite with my daddy. **huge smile** Just thinking about it right now makes my heart fill up with gladness.
Sometimes living gets on my nerves. But this afternoon, I was so glad that I was here, feeling the air blow against my face, hearing the laugh of Frances and Kim, anchoring the kite as it pulled from my hand, and sharing an unforgettable afternoon with the man that I love the most, my father. I live to have moments like that, moments that I can hold close to my heart and cherish for life. Even after me or Daddy have passed from this life, no matter who goes first, that memory will be left with one of us. What a wonderful gift.
Daddy, Happy Father’s Day! Thanks for always giving me your best. I wish you many more happy years. And I wish myself more happy years with you in my life.
Much love and more opportunities to fly a kite with my daddy,
Angela Braden
Thurman’s Oldest Child
(Yes, I’m pulling rank like that. **wink**)
P.S.
Happy Father’s Day to all you daddies who have accepted the challenge to protect, to provide for, to love, to teach, to direct, to expose, to embrace, to affirm, to connect with, to enjoy your children. I applaud you for being a man and doing what is right.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Borrowed from Temple University's Disability Studies Blog
**I thought that this essay was great. It really made me think about myself and how I choose to live my life. And it really made me think about what I would tell a young person with a disability. So many layers... So much to consider... So much to really think about...
so, I thought I would share it with you. Let me know what you think.**
What Should We Tell Them?
Outside of my office window I have seen lines of young graduates since at Temple there is a event hall used for many programs such as Graduation. Looking
around my office, I also see a lineup of Disability Studies books from theory to autobiography to poetry. I then glance up on my wall and see my degree,
which I earned many years ago. All of this caused me to reflect on the youth with disabilities who are today's graduates.
In many ways, their experience of life and their micro and macro worlds are quite different than my generation of peers with disabilities. Certainly this
is a great accomplishment for society, but then reality sinks in and I realize that in many ways the youth of today are facing the same challenges of discrimination
and stereotypes as we.
So what advice can we give a young person with a disability who has dreams and aspirations and may still be innocent of the thorns that may wound the spirit
and bruise the ego? Do we tell him or her about the different theories of social repression experienced by those in any minority? Do we speak of making
activism a relentless activity that consumes all your energy and concentration? Do we deconstruct for him or her the inequality of privilege and how this
nebulous concept is ironically very concrete and palpable in one's daily existence? Should we explain how to be skeptical and wary of employers who may
seem receptive but who are just skilled at understanding the Americans With Disabilities Act, and who don't want to be accused of discrimination? And last
of all do we espouse the ideals of independence, and how one must do everything at the sacrifice of their own comfort and simple life pleasures to prove
their independence?
Naturally these rhetorical questions imply a set of values that should be questioned by scholars and other proponents of disability rights and culture.
Although the social and political climate in which I grew up in many ways was thought of as progressive and liberating, I am now understanding that many
of the ideologies which I osmonically inhaled were variations of the dominant social culture's values and beliefs. I hope that my advice to youth with
disabilities might be just a little bit less demanding and a little more empathetic of the totality of their person. I hope that among the words of wisdom
I would give is that everyone has their own wisdom inside. That they should spend equal if not more time and energy enjoying themselves and their peers,
having fun, being reckless, not being bound to a regiment of goals. Spend the days and evenings exploring life through laughter and yes, through love.
Love and be loved. Be empowered by being yourself, by being weak when you feel overwhelmed, and by reaching out when you need others. People who are able-bodied
do this all the time. They just don't have it formalized the way people with disabilities are expected to go through a certain procedure of accessing help.
My last piece of advice, which probably will make a lot of people within and outside of the disability community wince, is be damned with independence.
It is not the measurement of one's value. There is nothing more courageous and genuine than saying, "I am confident and comfortable enough in myself that
I know I need you to help me get through or even just be where I am."
Posted by Carol Marfisi at
Temple University's Disability Studies Blog
so, I thought I would share it with you. Let me know what you think.**
What Should We Tell Them?
Outside of my office window I have seen lines of young graduates since at Temple there is a event hall used for many programs such as Graduation. Looking
around my office, I also see a lineup of Disability Studies books from theory to autobiography to poetry. I then glance up on my wall and see my degree,
which I earned many years ago. All of this caused me to reflect on the youth with disabilities who are today's graduates.
In many ways, their experience of life and their micro and macro worlds are quite different than my generation of peers with disabilities. Certainly this
is a great accomplishment for society, but then reality sinks in and I realize that in many ways the youth of today are facing the same challenges of discrimination
and stereotypes as we.
So what advice can we give a young person with a disability who has dreams and aspirations and may still be innocent of the thorns that may wound the spirit
and bruise the ego? Do we tell him or her about the different theories of social repression experienced by those in any minority? Do we speak of making
activism a relentless activity that consumes all your energy and concentration? Do we deconstruct for him or her the inequality of privilege and how this
nebulous concept is ironically very concrete and palpable in one's daily existence? Should we explain how to be skeptical and wary of employers who may
seem receptive but who are just skilled at understanding the Americans With Disabilities Act, and who don't want to be accused of discrimination? And last
of all do we espouse the ideals of independence, and how one must do everything at the sacrifice of their own comfort and simple life pleasures to prove
their independence?
Naturally these rhetorical questions imply a set of values that should be questioned by scholars and other proponents of disability rights and culture.
Although the social and political climate in which I grew up in many ways was thought of as progressive and liberating, I am now understanding that many
of the ideologies which I osmonically inhaled were variations of the dominant social culture's values and beliefs. I hope that my advice to youth with
disabilities might be just a little bit less demanding and a little more empathetic of the totality of their person. I hope that among the words of wisdom
I would give is that everyone has their own wisdom inside. That they should spend equal if not more time and energy enjoying themselves and their peers,
having fun, being reckless, not being bound to a regiment of goals. Spend the days and evenings exploring life through laughter and yes, through love.
Love and be loved. Be empowered by being yourself, by being weak when you feel overwhelmed, and by reaching out when you need others. People who are able-bodied
do this all the time. They just don't have it formalized the way people with disabilities are expected to go through a certain procedure of accessing help.
My last piece of advice, which probably will make a lot of people within and outside of the disability community wince, is be damned with independence.
It is not the measurement of one's value. There is nothing more courageous and genuine than saying, "I am confident and comfortable enough in myself that
I know I need you to help me get through or even just be where I am."
Posted by Carol Marfisi at
Temple University's Disability Studies Blog
Thursday, June 12, 2008
I know you don't realize it, but...
Yesterday, we had a staff meeting at my place of employment. Well, during the meeting, I heard at least two people say, "Everybody has a disability." Here's some insight about the two that said it... Neither one of them actually have a disability, mental or physical. They may indeed have some issues that are deemed as less than perfect. But disabled… I don’t think so.
So why did they say that everyone has a disability?
Well, I think that they were sincerely trying to make us disabled folks not feel alone in this "awful life" that we are being forced by God to live.
"Don't worry, Angela. I'm disabled too. You're blind. And I... Um... Well, I'm allergic to peanuts."
“Don’t worry, young man. I know you can’t walk due to being paralyzed from the chest down, but I’m disabled too. I have to drink coffee every morning, or I’ll be falling asleep at my desk.”
“Hey young lady. Don’t feel so bad about being def. I’m disabled too. Don’t you see all this acne all over my face that I can’t get rid of?
“I know you might not have a right arm, young veteran… Don’t feel bad… I can’t manage to remember to pay my bills on time.”
“I know that you have multiple personalities, but I have multiple colors of hair. I just can’t seem to get this gray out of my aging hair.”
Forgive me... But that's how ridiculous it sounds for someone that does not have a physical or mental disability, trying to tell me, a blind woman, or any other person with a significant disability that they are disabled too.
For the record, a shortcoming, a challenge, a personality flaw is not a disability.
A disability is a physical and/or mental condition/impairment that substantially limits one or more major life activity.
So, let me further break this down for you.
A person needing to wear reading glasses to read the print in a telephone book is not disabled. But a person that needs to put a two inch magnifying glass over the pages of the telephone book just to slowly read one word at a time while their strained eyes are watering may indeed qualify as disabled.
A person that can't walk in heels because their knees hurt is not disabled. But if you can't stand up and walk from your bed to the bathroom without falling over, you are definitely disabled.
If you have a headache from time to time, you are not disabled. But if you have chronic migraines that make it hard for you to be around any sounds, to lift your head from the pillow, and to make it throughout the day without taking prescription drugs to manage the pain, you may indeed be disabled.
“If you have to wear an incontinence pad because of you not being able to hold your urine until you get to the bathroom does not make you disabled. But if you need assistance to transfer from your wheelchair to the toilet, that may indeed qualify you as disabled.
If you’re having a bad day and folks are getting on your nerves, you don’t have a mental disability. But if you are hearing voices, can’t manage your vacillating emotions, cannot sleep for days unless you have a prescribed sleeping aid, you are certainly disabled.
Basically, a disability significantly impacts a person’s ability to live independently, to do daily tasks that come easy to others, such as bathing, toileting, cooking, driving, walking, reading a book, and so on… A disability significantly impacts a person’s ability to prepare for, find, and maintain employment.
A real disability creates barriers that require you to need tools, equipment, and comprehensive strategies to bring those barriers down.
So, the next time you want to make a disabled person feel included, be nice, be respectful, be friendly, be compassionate, be understanding.
But whatever you do, do not minimize their physical and/or mental challenges by somehow trying to make your shortcomings equal to a disability. It just ain’t cool.
Peace,
Angela B.
So why did they say that everyone has a disability?
Well, I think that they were sincerely trying to make us disabled folks not feel alone in this "awful life" that we are being forced by God to live.
"Don't worry, Angela. I'm disabled too. You're blind. And I... Um... Well, I'm allergic to peanuts."
“Don’t worry, young man. I know you can’t walk due to being paralyzed from the chest down, but I’m disabled too. I have to drink coffee every morning, or I’ll be falling asleep at my desk.”
“Hey young lady. Don’t feel so bad about being def. I’m disabled too. Don’t you see all this acne all over my face that I can’t get rid of?
“I know you might not have a right arm, young veteran… Don’t feel bad… I can’t manage to remember to pay my bills on time.”
“I know that you have multiple personalities, but I have multiple colors of hair. I just can’t seem to get this gray out of my aging hair.”
Forgive me... But that's how ridiculous it sounds for someone that does not have a physical or mental disability, trying to tell me, a blind woman, or any other person with a significant disability that they are disabled too.
For the record, a shortcoming, a challenge, a personality flaw is not a disability.
A disability is a physical and/or mental condition/impairment that substantially limits one or more major life activity.
So, let me further break this down for you.
A person needing to wear reading glasses to read the print in a telephone book is not disabled. But a person that needs to put a two inch magnifying glass over the pages of the telephone book just to slowly read one word at a time while their strained eyes are watering may indeed qualify as disabled.
A person that can't walk in heels because their knees hurt is not disabled. But if you can't stand up and walk from your bed to the bathroom without falling over, you are definitely disabled.
If you have a headache from time to time, you are not disabled. But if you have chronic migraines that make it hard for you to be around any sounds, to lift your head from the pillow, and to make it throughout the day without taking prescription drugs to manage the pain, you may indeed be disabled.
“If you have to wear an incontinence pad because of you not being able to hold your urine until you get to the bathroom does not make you disabled. But if you need assistance to transfer from your wheelchair to the toilet, that may indeed qualify you as disabled.
If you’re having a bad day and folks are getting on your nerves, you don’t have a mental disability. But if you are hearing voices, can’t manage your vacillating emotions, cannot sleep for days unless you have a prescribed sleeping aid, you are certainly disabled.
Basically, a disability significantly impacts a person’s ability to live independently, to do daily tasks that come easy to others, such as bathing, toileting, cooking, driving, walking, reading a book, and so on… A disability significantly impacts a person’s ability to prepare for, find, and maintain employment.
A real disability creates barriers that require you to need tools, equipment, and comprehensive strategies to bring those barriers down.
So, the next time you want to make a disabled person feel included, be nice, be respectful, be friendly, be compassionate, be understanding.
But whatever you do, do not minimize their physical and/or mental challenges by somehow trying to make your shortcomings equal to a disability. It just ain’t cool.
Peace,
Angela B.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
The Charge
Sometimes, I really get down about this whole blind thing, family issues, and just life in general. Living sometimes feels like a chore, a never ending task, an endless road that leads me to the land of nowhere.
But then, as I'm sitting, with a hand full of confetti and ready to blow up the balloons for my pity party, God reminds me that I do not have to allow my tragedy, the loss of my sight, my family problems, and everything else to define me. I define me and this life I’m living.
I'm in charge of my life. My blindness may have an influence on how I do daily tasks. But my blindness, my disability is not in charge. It doesn't boss me.
I'm a slave to nothing but God.
My family situation may indeed impact the choices that I have to make, the arrangements I have to make, and the way I plan my life. But it is not in charge of me. My family situation does not define my life. In fact, Angela defines, shapes, and directs the family situations. I boss it. It doesn’t boss me. My presence in the family impacts the situations. I create the change. The family situation will not change me. I’m in charge of this.
I’m a slave to nothing but God.
In the recent days, I’ve been worried about my career, how I’m going to make some money to take care of myself. But I’m not going to allow worry fear, and anxiety to define me. I’m in charge of my finances and my career path. If God said go, I will go. And I don’t have to worry about the provision. God supplies and undergirds what He has ordained. He will not send me anywhere and won’t meet my needs. If He is indeed the one that is sending me, He has an abundance waiting for me. But I have to trust Him enough to accept the call, get up, and go. And that is when He will reveal the provision, no sooner, no later. And I believe that!
I’m a slave to nothing but God. And I don’t mind being a slave to Him.
You know why?
Being a slave to God makes me a free woman. More free than I've ever been before in this life...
So the truth is that I’m actually not in charge. God is in charge. He’s the boss. And He has given me the liberty, the right, the power to take charge of my life, my destiny, my position in this world. And I am handling up on that charge from God to be in charge.
But then, as I'm sitting, with a hand full of confetti and ready to blow up the balloons for my pity party, God reminds me that I do not have to allow my tragedy, the loss of my sight, my family problems, and everything else to define me. I define me and this life I’m living.
I'm in charge of my life. My blindness may have an influence on how I do daily tasks. But my blindness, my disability is not in charge. It doesn't boss me.
I'm a slave to nothing but God.
My family situation may indeed impact the choices that I have to make, the arrangements I have to make, and the way I plan my life. But it is not in charge of me. My family situation does not define my life. In fact, Angela defines, shapes, and directs the family situations. I boss it. It doesn’t boss me. My presence in the family impacts the situations. I create the change. The family situation will not change me. I’m in charge of this.
I’m a slave to nothing but God.
In the recent days, I’ve been worried about my career, how I’m going to make some money to take care of myself. But I’m not going to allow worry fear, and anxiety to define me. I’m in charge of my finances and my career path. If God said go, I will go. And I don’t have to worry about the provision. God supplies and undergirds what He has ordained. He will not send me anywhere and won’t meet my needs. If He is indeed the one that is sending me, He has an abundance waiting for me. But I have to trust Him enough to accept the call, get up, and go. And that is when He will reveal the provision, no sooner, no later. And I believe that!
I’m a slave to nothing but God. And I don’t mind being a slave to Him.
You know why?
Being a slave to God makes me a free woman. More free than I've ever been before in this life...
So the truth is that I’m actually not in charge. God is in charge. He’s the boss. And He has given me the liberty, the right, the power to take charge of my life, my destiny, my position in this world. And I am handling up on that charge from God to be in charge.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Thirteen
When I sit down and think about my teen years, I really feel like I’m remembering scenes from a movie. Yeah, it was my life, but it really seems a little surreal. I guess it’s because I don’t even know how I made it through those awful times. But I did. I’m here. And although I’m a little bruised up, I’m still in one piece, a whole piece. And for that, I thank God.
The other day I was talking to Devia, one of my best friends, about life’s tragedies, and how those tragedies really do impact how we see ourselves and the world we live in. During the conversation, she asked me how old I was when I left my home in Houston and moved to the Texas School for the Blind in Austin. I told her that I was thirteen-years-old. She was shocked that I was so young when I was forced to leave my parents.
And the truth is that I was so young... I was only thirteen-years-old. A baby… A young child… And there I was, being overshadowed by the giant that had come to destroy me. And instead of me being able to have my parents there to help me fight this giant, I was removed from them, and left in a world that felt so foreign, so alien, so lonely.
My parents, along with other educational professionals, felt that it was best that I go to Austin to attend TSB’s summer program. Honestly, I don’t remember how I felt about the idea. I just remember being horrified when my parents were driving away from the school and leaving me with all those strangers. And even though I was there for six weeks, one of the few things I remember about that summer was me crying day and night. I remember calling my parents every single day and begging them to come and get me. I remember bawling every time my mother said no. I didn’t understand how this woman, who I sincerely believed loved me, could possibly leave her child, who was going blind, at a school that was 150 miles away from her. Pain and sorrow sandwiched me as I tried to understand, to accept, to submit to the fact that my parents knew what was best for me.
Another thing I remember is that so many of the other students that were attending the program were happy to be in Austin for the summer. They were getting a chance to hang out with friends that they only got a chance to see when they would come to the summer program. They were getting a chance to socialize with other visually impaired children, which meant that they didn’t have to deal with the hassle and strain of trying to be friends with insensitive, sometimes rude sighted kids. Many of them were getting a chance to have summer flings with other blind children, who didn’t have an issue with dating a person that happened to be blind or partially sighted. And some were happy that they were getting away from their overly protective parents and getting a chance to spread their wings and be independent, even if it was for only a few weeks.
I was the only nut that was sitting in a corner, crying, throwing a pity party, and getting on many of the other kids nerves. There was this guy, a white boy from Ft. Worth, that bought me a milk shake to cheer me up.
Every few years, I’ll run into Bobby at different events. He often reminds me how he bought me that milk shake to make me stop crying. I tell him that I blame him for introducing me to using food as a way to find comfort. We share that laugh together, and we also share the memory of me being a broke down young girl, feeling like the world had caved in on me.
More later…
The other day I was talking to Devia, one of my best friends, about life’s tragedies, and how those tragedies really do impact how we see ourselves and the world we live in. During the conversation, she asked me how old I was when I left my home in Houston and moved to the Texas School for the Blind in Austin. I told her that I was thirteen-years-old. She was shocked that I was so young when I was forced to leave my parents.
And the truth is that I was so young... I was only thirteen-years-old. A baby… A young child… And there I was, being overshadowed by the giant that had come to destroy me. And instead of me being able to have my parents there to help me fight this giant, I was removed from them, and left in a world that felt so foreign, so alien, so lonely.
My parents, along with other educational professionals, felt that it was best that I go to Austin to attend TSB’s summer program. Honestly, I don’t remember how I felt about the idea. I just remember being horrified when my parents were driving away from the school and leaving me with all those strangers. And even though I was there for six weeks, one of the few things I remember about that summer was me crying day and night. I remember calling my parents every single day and begging them to come and get me. I remember bawling every time my mother said no. I didn’t understand how this woman, who I sincerely believed loved me, could possibly leave her child, who was going blind, at a school that was 150 miles away from her. Pain and sorrow sandwiched me as I tried to understand, to accept, to submit to the fact that my parents knew what was best for me.
Another thing I remember is that so many of the other students that were attending the program were happy to be in Austin for the summer. They were getting a chance to hang out with friends that they only got a chance to see when they would come to the summer program. They were getting a chance to socialize with other visually impaired children, which meant that they didn’t have to deal with the hassle and strain of trying to be friends with insensitive, sometimes rude sighted kids. Many of them were getting a chance to have summer flings with other blind children, who didn’t have an issue with dating a person that happened to be blind or partially sighted. And some were happy that they were getting away from their overly protective parents and getting a chance to spread their wings and be independent, even if it was for only a few weeks.
I was the only nut that was sitting in a corner, crying, throwing a pity party, and getting on many of the other kids nerves. There was this guy, a white boy from Ft. Worth, that bought me a milk shake to cheer me up.
Every few years, I’ll run into Bobby at different events. He often reminds me how he bought me that milk shake to make me stop crying. I tell him that I blame him for introducing me to using food as a way to find comfort. We share that laugh together, and we also share the memory of me being a broke down young girl, feeling like the world had caved in on me.
More later…
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Random Reflections
1. I'm so thankful for good psychological health.
Yesterday, I went with my aunt to her psychiatric appointment. We had to wait two hours to see the doc. As we were sitting there, I observed the other people that were waiting in the waiting area to see the psychiatrist.
After only a few minutes, I could tell that half of the people that were waiting to see the psychiatrist had some kind of psychological issue. But the other half... Well, it wasn't so clear.
But what was obvious to me is how mental and emotional impairments are truly an invisible condition. And yes, while it may be invisible, the effects of the impairment are usually crystal clear to the family members of the one with the psychological impairment.
It's so sad how mental illness destroys some people lives. It's so sad how mental illness has majorly impacted so many members of my very own family's lives.
While listening in on some of the conversations that were going on around me in that waiting room, I began to be thankful for my mind. I listened to a 15-year-old young man tell someone how excited he is that he knows his time tables. He went on to tell the man that although he is good with his time tables, he's not good in "genomotry". And that's exactly how he said it.
I sat there and thanked God for my good mind. Yeah, I can't see. But I can think clearly. I can learn. I can solve my problems. I can create. I can manage my own affairs.
2. I now understand why certain people pack up all of their stuff and move to the other side of the country to get away from their family.
That's all I'm going to say about that right now. More later...
Certain family members are getting on my nerves so bad that I can't even write about it right now... **smile**
3. Sometimes, even I forget that I can't see.
Yesterday, my friend, Chad, was painting the inside of his house. I called him to see how it was going. Well, he bragged about what a good job he and his buddies were doing.
After I hung up the phone, I started to tell my daddy to go over to Chad's house so that "we" could "see" how the paint looked. Then, as suddenly as the desire popped into my head, I remembered that I could not see anything at all. Yeah, I could go over to Chad's house, but I wouldn't see any paint. So, I decided to not even mention to my dad that I wanted to go by Chad's house. What was the point?
4. I'm going to Chicago at the end of the month to hook up with Miko and some of her friends. I'm looking forward to the trip. I need the time away. I can't really afford it, but my emotions cannot afford not getting some kind of break.
5. I'm so glad that the primary election has FINALLY ENDED. Praise God!!!
And I'm even more glad that my candidate, Senator Obama won the nomination of the DNC.
I'm so excited!!! And I'm so thankful that I am getting the chance to witness this myself. I don't have to read about it, or imagine it happening one day. It's happening now. And I'm apart of it. **huge grin**
5. I can't say it enough... I love Gabby, Jasmine, and Joseph. They are light and love. I praise God that He has been so kind to me by sharing them with me.
So often, I get a little frustrated and sad. But when I think of the kids, I get a little boost, a little bit more enthusiasm about staying the course and fighting this battle out. They, each one of them, in their own little special way, are my inspirations.
6. Gas in Houston is $3.83. They claim that gas will be $4.05 by the 4th of July.
No comment... Just a big frown...
7. I am so tired of Noggin being on my television day and night. Jasmine is a huge Noggin fan. and because Jasmine basically lives here, Noggin does to.
She better be glad that I happen to like her. **wink**
8. I fell down the stairs today.
Earlier this morning, I was coming down the stairs at the speed that I usually walk down them, and my foot slipped off the step. Well, I went down fast and hard. My big toe got bent up pretty bad.
Honestly, I think that it might be broke. It's swelling up pretty bad. I'm going to go to the hospital later this evening. I'll update y'all as I know something.
9. Cell phone, cable, and internet bills get on my nerves.
Honestly, I understand and realize that we have to pay for electricity, water, and gas service. And I even understand that we need to pay for cable, cell phone, and internet access. But why so much? I'm so tired of communication and entertainment outlets taking so much of my money. It's sickening!
10. I'm looking for another job.
I want to teach in the college setting. So, pray that I get that opportunity this academic year. Teaching during the presidential election would be fantastic!
Yesterday, I went with my aunt to her psychiatric appointment. We had to wait two hours to see the doc. As we were sitting there, I observed the other people that were waiting in the waiting area to see the psychiatrist.
After only a few minutes, I could tell that half of the people that were waiting to see the psychiatrist had some kind of psychological issue. But the other half... Well, it wasn't so clear.
But what was obvious to me is how mental and emotional impairments are truly an invisible condition. And yes, while it may be invisible, the effects of the impairment are usually crystal clear to the family members of the one with the psychological impairment.
It's so sad how mental illness destroys some people lives. It's so sad how mental illness has majorly impacted so many members of my very own family's lives.
While listening in on some of the conversations that were going on around me in that waiting room, I began to be thankful for my mind. I listened to a 15-year-old young man tell someone how excited he is that he knows his time tables. He went on to tell the man that although he is good with his time tables, he's not good in "genomotry". And that's exactly how he said it.
I sat there and thanked God for my good mind. Yeah, I can't see. But I can think clearly. I can learn. I can solve my problems. I can create. I can manage my own affairs.
2. I now understand why certain people pack up all of their stuff and move to the other side of the country to get away from their family.
That's all I'm going to say about that right now. More later...
Certain family members are getting on my nerves so bad that I can't even write about it right now... **smile**
3. Sometimes, even I forget that I can't see.
Yesterday, my friend, Chad, was painting the inside of his house. I called him to see how it was going. Well, he bragged about what a good job he and his buddies were doing.
After I hung up the phone, I started to tell my daddy to go over to Chad's house so that "we" could "see" how the paint looked. Then, as suddenly as the desire popped into my head, I remembered that I could not see anything at all. Yeah, I could go over to Chad's house, but I wouldn't see any paint. So, I decided to not even mention to my dad that I wanted to go by Chad's house. What was the point?
4. I'm going to Chicago at the end of the month to hook up with Miko and some of her friends. I'm looking forward to the trip. I need the time away. I can't really afford it, but my emotions cannot afford not getting some kind of break.
5. I'm so glad that the primary election has FINALLY ENDED. Praise God!!!
And I'm even more glad that my candidate, Senator Obama won the nomination of the DNC.
I'm so excited!!! And I'm so thankful that I am getting the chance to witness this myself. I don't have to read about it, or imagine it happening one day. It's happening now. And I'm apart of it. **huge grin**
5. I can't say it enough... I love Gabby, Jasmine, and Joseph. They are light and love. I praise God that He has been so kind to me by sharing them with me.
So often, I get a little frustrated and sad. But when I think of the kids, I get a little boost, a little bit more enthusiasm about staying the course and fighting this battle out. They, each one of them, in their own little special way, are my inspirations.
6. Gas in Houston is $3.83. They claim that gas will be $4.05 by the 4th of July.
No comment... Just a big frown...
7. I am so tired of Noggin being on my television day and night. Jasmine is a huge Noggin fan. and because Jasmine basically lives here, Noggin does to.
She better be glad that I happen to like her. **wink**
8. I fell down the stairs today.
Earlier this morning, I was coming down the stairs at the speed that I usually walk down them, and my foot slipped off the step. Well, I went down fast and hard. My big toe got bent up pretty bad.
Honestly, I think that it might be broke. It's swelling up pretty bad. I'm going to go to the hospital later this evening. I'll update y'all as I know something.
9. Cell phone, cable, and internet bills get on my nerves.
Honestly, I understand and realize that we have to pay for electricity, water, and gas service. And I even understand that we need to pay for cable, cell phone, and internet access. But why so much? I'm so tired of communication and entertainment outlets taking so much of my money. It's sickening!
10. I'm looking for another job.
I want to teach in the college setting. So, pray that I get that opportunity this academic year. Teaching during the presidential election would be fantastic!
More Questions and Answers
A couple more questions have hit my in box in the last week. Here are the questions and answers.
Remember, if you have a question hit me up.
I'll be taking questions until July 12th, my birthday.
Nancy in Austin asked me, "How long did it take you to learn braille?"
It probably took me four months to learn both grade one and grade two braille. It took me a couple more months to learn the braille code that is used for math.
Grade 1 braille is words written out in long form. For instance, when you write the word "can", you would use all letters to write the word "can". But in Grade 2 braille you would have the option of contracting certain words. For example, the word "can" in Grade 2 braille would be spelled with just a "c". Basically, it's like shorthand or abbreviated versions of words.
Grade 2 braille is the bomb!
Here's a question that I will throw in as a bonus...
Can you read braille pretty well? My accuracy is on point. But my speed is terrible. It takes me so long to read one sentence. In fact, I avoid braille when I can because of that reason.
Supposedly, if I read braille more often, my reading speed would increase. Probably so... But it seems like my fingers go numb after reading for 15 minutes. Perhaps it's all psychological... I don't know...
Even though I can't read braille fast, I can write it like a pro. When it comes to typing braille, these fingers can move. In fact, I can type print like a olympic typist. That's one of my talents. **smile** Even with long nails, these fingers can move like fire.
Devia in Dallas asked, "Do you have some kind of machine to read print to you?"
I do not have a stand alone machine that reads print. But I do have a standard scanner that works with special software that will allow a scanned copy of print to be translated into speech. I happen to own both of the leading software packages that allows blind individuals to read print with a scanner. I also use this software at my job.
If I had this software when I was in undergrad, I probably would've graduated with a 4.0 GPA. Oh well... At least it's out now.
Okay... That's it. Remember, if you have any questions that you want to ask me, shoot them to the comment section or e-mail me at angie.braden@gmail.com.
Don't be scared to ask your questions. I'm here to answer what you want to know.
Peace,
Angela
Remember, if you have a question hit me up.
I'll be taking questions until July 12th, my birthday.
Nancy in Austin asked me, "How long did it take you to learn braille?"
It probably took me four months to learn both grade one and grade two braille. It took me a couple more months to learn the braille code that is used for math.
Grade 1 braille is words written out in long form. For instance, when you write the word "can", you would use all letters to write the word "can". But in Grade 2 braille you would have the option of contracting certain words. For example, the word "can" in Grade 2 braille would be spelled with just a "c". Basically, it's like shorthand or abbreviated versions of words.
Grade 2 braille is the bomb!
Here's a question that I will throw in as a bonus...
Can you read braille pretty well? My accuracy is on point. But my speed is terrible. It takes me so long to read one sentence. In fact, I avoid braille when I can because of that reason.
Supposedly, if I read braille more often, my reading speed would increase. Probably so... But it seems like my fingers go numb after reading for 15 minutes. Perhaps it's all psychological... I don't know...
Even though I can't read braille fast, I can write it like a pro. When it comes to typing braille, these fingers can move. In fact, I can type print like a olympic typist. That's one of my talents. **smile** Even with long nails, these fingers can move like fire.
Devia in Dallas asked, "Do you have some kind of machine to read print to you?"
I do not have a stand alone machine that reads print. But I do have a standard scanner that works with special software that will allow a scanned copy of print to be translated into speech. I happen to own both of the leading software packages that allows blind individuals to read print with a scanner. I also use this software at my job.
If I had this software when I was in undergrad, I probably would've graduated with a 4.0 GPA. Oh well... At least it's out now.
Okay... That's it. Remember, if you have any questions that you want to ask me, shoot them to the comment section or e-mail me at angie.braden@gmail.com.
Don't be scared to ask your questions. I'm here to answer what you want to know.
Peace,
Angela
Thursday, May 22, 2008
More Questions
As many of you know, I'm taking questions for the next couple of months. So, anything, and I mean anything you want to ask me, please do.
Yesterday, I decided to also post some of the questions that people ask me off the board, when I'm in the community. So here goes... And these are only a few of the questions that some have dared to ask.
1. You can't see anything at all?
For some reason, people find it hard to believe that these eyes of mine can't see nothing at all. But sorry folks... I can't see a thing. Wish I could say I could see something, but I can't.
People often tell me that the reason why they think that I can see something (shadows, colors, shapes) is because I move around so well. I guess people expect me to walk around, bumping into walls all the time. Or maybe they expect me to be patting on everything around me. Too bad.
I try my best to do all that I do well. And since I got to live life with blindness, I make sure I do that well too. I might bump into a wall from time to time, slip off a curb that I didn't realize was there, bump these hips of mine into the corner of a desk or table, or lose something that is sitting right in my face... That's part of the game. But I'm gon' play this game with as much ease and sexiness as I can. That's a requirement for Angie B.
2. Can you read braille?
Yep... I learned it when I was fourteen-years-old. The doctors warned us that significant blindness was eventually going to visit my Glaucoma diagnosed eyes. So, it was recommended that I prepare for a life with no sight. Although I objected to the idea of learning braille and how to use a cane, my mother left me no choice. I made a decision to deal with learning braille than to deal with my mama being on my behind.
So, I registered for a braille class in the 9th grade. I learned all the levels of braille in a few months. I sped through the class, only because I hated it so much.
I didn't think that it was only going to be three years later that my braille skills would come in handy. I'm glad that I learned it when I could. I guess my doctor was right in that particular case.
Even though I can write braille like a speed demon, my reading skills are slow. My fingers are just not sensitive enough to pick up on those dots. Plus, my fingers actually start feeling numb after 30-minutes of reading. I don't know...
3. Who bathes you? Who combs your hair? Who irons your clothes? Who washes your clothes?
The answer to all those questions is ME. I don't know why people think that blindness would make it hard for me to bathe myself. Yeah, I can see the how people would think that ironing and washing clothes would be hard. But bathing myself... **sigh**
I'm very careful when I iron. I take my time. There have been a few occasions that I rushed when I was ironing and got punished. So, the key is to be careful and take my time.
Washing clothes... Well, I have my washer labelled with braille. That way, I can turn the knob to the setting that I want it on. Got it?
Because I don't do a lot of different things with my hair, I can manage it pretty good. Plus, my texture of hair is pretty manageable. Thanks Daddy and Mama. And I try to keep it a length that is good for me. I like it real short or to my shoulders. Anything in between is hard for me.
**I'll stop here. But expect more questions and answers throughout this summer.
Renee: I haven't forgot about my commitment to further answer your question. I'll get to it real soon.
And everyone else: Shoot me a question. Post it, or e-mail me. I'm here.
Blessings,
Angela**
Yesterday, I decided to also post some of the questions that people ask me off the board, when I'm in the community. So here goes... And these are only a few of the questions that some have dared to ask.
1. You can't see anything at all?
For some reason, people find it hard to believe that these eyes of mine can't see nothing at all. But sorry folks... I can't see a thing. Wish I could say I could see something, but I can't.
People often tell me that the reason why they think that I can see something (shadows, colors, shapes) is because I move around so well. I guess people expect me to walk around, bumping into walls all the time. Or maybe they expect me to be patting on everything around me. Too bad.
I try my best to do all that I do well. And since I got to live life with blindness, I make sure I do that well too. I might bump into a wall from time to time, slip off a curb that I didn't realize was there, bump these hips of mine into the corner of a desk or table, or lose something that is sitting right in my face... That's part of the game. But I'm gon' play this game with as much ease and sexiness as I can. That's a requirement for Angie B.
2. Can you read braille?
Yep... I learned it when I was fourteen-years-old. The doctors warned us that significant blindness was eventually going to visit my Glaucoma diagnosed eyes. So, it was recommended that I prepare for a life with no sight. Although I objected to the idea of learning braille and how to use a cane, my mother left me no choice. I made a decision to deal with learning braille than to deal with my mama being on my behind.
So, I registered for a braille class in the 9th grade. I learned all the levels of braille in a few months. I sped through the class, only because I hated it so much.
I didn't think that it was only going to be three years later that my braille skills would come in handy. I'm glad that I learned it when I could. I guess my doctor was right in that particular case.
Even though I can write braille like a speed demon, my reading skills are slow. My fingers are just not sensitive enough to pick up on those dots. Plus, my fingers actually start feeling numb after 30-minutes of reading. I don't know...
3. Who bathes you? Who combs your hair? Who irons your clothes? Who washes your clothes?
The answer to all those questions is ME. I don't know why people think that blindness would make it hard for me to bathe myself. Yeah, I can see the how people would think that ironing and washing clothes would be hard. But bathing myself... **sigh**
I'm very careful when I iron. I take my time. There have been a few occasions that I rushed when I was ironing and got punished. So, the key is to be careful and take my time.
Washing clothes... Well, I have my washer labelled with braille. That way, I can turn the knob to the setting that I want it on. Got it?
Because I don't do a lot of different things with my hair, I can manage it pretty good. Plus, my texture of hair is pretty manageable. Thanks Daddy and Mama. And I try to keep it a length that is good for me. I like it real short or to my shoulders. Anything in between is hard for me.
**I'll stop here. But expect more questions and answers throughout this summer.
Renee: I haven't forgot about my commitment to further answer your question. I'll get to it real soon.
And everyone else: Shoot me a question. Post it, or e-mail me. I'm here.
Blessings,
Angela**
Monday, May 19, 2008
First set of answers
The first question that I'm going to answer is from a beautiful sista who lives in Trinidad. Nicole asked:
"Have you ever been involved in an accident when someone is guiding you?"
The answer to that is a big YES. Because people tend to be a tad bit careless and selfish, I have most definitely been ran into walls and guided right off of a step, without being warned that the step is even there. Thankfully those accidents that happen from week to week have only resulted in one "real" injury.
In 1997, my final semester in undergrad, my friend CB was rushing to get inside of the church, where he was serving on the music staff. He was supposed to be on the organ in two minutes, and we were probably four minutes away from the door. So, the brotha was in a mad dash to get inside the building.
Well, as he was rushing, and I was saying, "Slow down.", my left foot slipped off the side of the sidewalk, and my ankle cracked. I actually heard the bone break.
Did that slow my friend down from trying to get inside of the building? Nope, sure didn't. CB stayed on his mission to get to the organ before the clock struck 7:00. So, I had to walk on that broken ankle until we got in the church. Once we got inside, I was able to get off the ankle, but I had to sit through the service before we went to the hospital.
So, my last semester in college I was having to figure out how to walk with crutches and a cane for the blind. Needless to say, it was quite, quite interesting, and a challenge, I might add. But I did it. I graduated as scheduled.
And yes, CB is still my friend. I love him, even though I don't always feel secure when we walk together. He's still a good brotha, and he's in my cabinet of best friends. And trust me, it is quite difficult to make the list of "best friends." It's a short list. And he made it.
The second question comes from a woman named Renee. I actually thought that my sister, Renea, who blogs at had asked the question. But after looking more closely at the spelling of the names, I realized that these two ladies were different.
Renee asked: “Do you ever want to get married? Have you ever been in a serious relationship that could have possibly lead to marriage? Do you want to have kids?”
Only because I'm a little out of time this evening, I will provide the short answers to these questions. Of course, to answer these questions fully would require me to expound more. Renee, I promise to spend more time on this. Perhaps I will tomorrow.
Do I ever want to get married? It depends when you ask me that question. But overall, I would have to say. I think that marriage, with the right man, would be good for a sista named Angie. And I think that marriage for the man that has enough love and courage to marry me could be good for him. Oh yeah, I'm confident that I'm a good catch.
I think that marriage could offer me support in a number of ways: financially, emotionally, spiritually, and sexually. All of that sounds nice enough to make me hope that I will one day share my life with someone. But he has to be a good somebody. I don't share a biscuit with someone that ain't worth my company. I'm certainly NOT going to share my life with someone that offers me no positive and loving significance to my life.
Have I ever been in a serious relationship that could have led to marriage? No, I haven't. I will definitely deal with this question later. There's some things I would like to say regarding this very question.
Do I want to have kids? Yeah, one or two. Boy and girl... But as I get older, I realize that time is not being very cooperative in the baby dept. If I don't get married in the next four years, I won't be having a baby naturally. I don't want to be too far in my 30's when I get pregnant. Having a baby that is disabled is more likely the older you get. And since I know how disability impacts a person's ability to live in this society, I rather not throw the dice, knowing how the odds are. Perhaps I will adopt. I've always wanted to do that.
And yes, those are the short answers to those questions. **smile** Again, I will pick these questions back up again this week.
The third question comes from a lady by the name of Canada. She e-mailed me and asked: "Do you have a guide dog?"
The answer to that question is no. I don't have one, don't plan to get one, and there is nothing anyone can say to change my mind. I don't like dogs.
I see how these dogs could be helpful in terms of giving a person that is blind more independence and accessibility. But, like I said, I don't like dogs. I'm actually frightened by them. So, no need in pretending that a guide dog would be an option for me. I'll continue to use my cane or these sighted guides that continue to run me into walls and off curbs. At least I don't have to clean poop up after they go to the potty on the sidewalk. Know what I mean?
The last questions come from The Last Domino. Although he wrote that he ended up reading more entries on my blog and found the answer to his questions, I thought I would still answer his question here. Plus, I thought I would provide a few links to previous posts, where I explored some of the answers to his questions.
He asked: “Is your blindness congenital or the result of an accident?
Actually, two questions: If not congenital, how long have you been blind?”
Is my blindness congenital or the result of an accident? That's a bit of a trick question.
Well, my Uveitis, which I contracted when I was eight-years-old is indeed what doctors would likely classify as congenital. But the Glaucoma, which is the theif that stole my sight, was kind of sort of an accident. I'm blind due to what we consider malpractice of a doctor. It is my opinion, along with countless others, that the doctor that was treating me at that time did not take the steps to prevent the Glaucoma from taking over and evicting my sight from my eyes.
The doctor was giving me steroids for the Uveitis. And steroids can result in Glaucoma setting in. Well, he was not looking out for this disease, even though he was giving me steroid injections in my eyes. When he finally diagnosed me with Glaucoma, I was grossly ill and my sight was already making a mad dash into the land of "Goodbye Forever".
Yes, we sued the doc. But we needed a medical testamony from a doc that could testify that it was indeed malpractice. Well, the doctor who was working tirelessly to try to reduce the effects of the Glaucoma killed himself. And when he died, he took his testamony where ever he went.
Yes, my experiences are so varying and unusual. Angie's Life... What can I say?
How long have I been blind? I started losing my sight at age 10. I lost all of my functional sight at 17. When I was 19, I lost the light perception that I was clinging to. I have not seen anything through these wrecked up eyes of mine in nearly 15 years.
Here's some links to posts that I have written regarding the onset of illness and my visual disability. Enjoy reading, for all it's worth.
The Genesis of My Eye Problems
Changed Forever
Brown Eyes
**Boy, this was a long entry. Next time, I will break the questions down in separate posts if it looks like it's going to be this long again. Well, I hope I answered your questions to your satisfaction. If not, ask me to clarify. And if you have more questions, I'm here to answer. And that goes for anyone else out there. Ask away...
Until we meet again, love God and His people. May you find peace, satisfaction, and fulfillment.
Peace,
Angela
UPDATE: My friend CB called me this morning and went off because I told my story about the broken ankle with his actual name. Even though he didn't remember the set of events around the injury, he did not like it that I called him out on the world wide web. As he requested, and only because I love him so much, I took the time to edit this post to change his name to his initials instead of his actual name.
Now, for the purpose of disclosure, I want anyone that reads this to know that I love this brotha. He ain't the best guide, but he is better than most. And although he's not a great guide, he's a wonderful friend to this girl named Angie. And for the record, CB has not caused me to have any more accidents since then. I haven't had to kiss any walls or stumble off any steps because he was guiding me. So, I guess he has improved over the years.
And Randy: Thank you for policing my blog. I guess my assumption that no one that actually knows me is reading my blog was just disproved.
Randy, my darling, I'm glad that you're reading. I do consider it an honor.
While I'm at it, let me refer my readers to your wonderful website.
Readers of Nuvision: Check out my friend Randy. He's a wonderful music artist. I call him Randy. But his name is Randevyn. Check him out.
His upcoming project is set to release in September. Show the brotha some love.
I'm out.
A
"Have you ever been involved in an accident when someone is guiding you?"
The answer to that is a big YES. Because people tend to be a tad bit careless and selfish, I have most definitely been ran into walls and guided right off of a step, without being warned that the step is even there. Thankfully those accidents that happen from week to week have only resulted in one "real" injury.
In 1997, my final semester in undergrad, my friend CB was rushing to get inside of the church, where he was serving on the music staff. He was supposed to be on the organ in two minutes, and we were probably four minutes away from the door. So, the brotha was in a mad dash to get inside the building.
Well, as he was rushing, and I was saying, "Slow down.", my left foot slipped off the side of the sidewalk, and my ankle cracked. I actually heard the bone break.
Did that slow my friend down from trying to get inside of the building? Nope, sure didn't. CB stayed on his mission to get to the organ before the clock struck 7:00. So, I had to walk on that broken ankle until we got in the church. Once we got inside, I was able to get off the ankle, but I had to sit through the service before we went to the hospital.
So, my last semester in college I was having to figure out how to walk with crutches and a cane for the blind. Needless to say, it was quite, quite interesting, and a challenge, I might add. But I did it. I graduated as scheduled.
And yes, CB is still my friend. I love him, even though I don't always feel secure when we walk together. He's still a good brotha, and he's in my cabinet of best friends. And trust me, it is quite difficult to make the list of "best friends." It's a short list. And he made it.
The second question comes from a woman named Renee. I actually thought that my sister, Renea, who blogs at had asked the question. But after looking more closely at the spelling of the names, I realized that these two ladies were different.
Renee asked: “Do you ever want to get married? Have you ever been in a serious relationship that could have possibly lead to marriage? Do you want to have kids?”
Only because I'm a little out of time this evening, I will provide the short answers to these questions. Of course, to answer these questions fully would require me to expound more. Renee, I promise to spend more time on this. Perhaps I will tomorrow.
Do I ever want to get married? It depends when you ask me that question. But overall, I would have to say. I think that marriage, with the right man, would be good for a sista named Angie. And I think that marriage for the man that has enough love and courage to marry me could be good for him. Oh yeah, I'm confident that I'm a good catch.
I think that marriage could offer me support in a number of ways: financially, emotionally, spiritually, and sexually. All of that sounds nice enough to make me hope that I will one day share my life with someone. But he has to be a good somebody. I don't share a biscuit with someone that ain't worth my company. I'm certainly NOT going to share my life with someone that offers me no positive and loving significance to my life.
Have I ever been in a serious relationship that could have led to marriage? No, I haven't. I will definitely deal with this question later. There's some things I would like to say regarding this very question.
Do I want to have kids? Yeah, one or two. Boy and girl... But as I get older, I realize that time is not being very cooperative in the baby dept. If I don't get married in the next four years, I won't be having a baby naturally. I don't want to be too far in my 30's when I get pregnant. Having a baby that is disabled is more likely the older you get. And since I know how disability impacts a person's ability to live in this society, I rather not throw the dice, knowing how the odds are. Perhaps I will adopt. I've always wanted to do that.
And yes, those are the short answers to those questions. **smile** Again, I will pick these questions back up again this week.
The third question comes from a lady by the name of Canada. She e-mailed me and asked: "Do you have a guide dog?"
The answer to that question is no. I don't have one, don't plan to get one, and there is nothing anyone can say to change my mind. I don't like dogs.
I see how these dogs could be helpful in terms of giving a person that is blind more independence and accessibility. But, like I said, I don't like dogs. I'm actually frightened by them. So, no need in pretending that a guide dog would be an option for me. I'll continue to use my cane or these sighted guides that continue to run me into walls and off curbs. At least I don't have to clean poop up after they go to the potty on the sidewalk. Know what I mean?
The last questions come from The Last Domino. Although he wrote that he ended up reading more entries on my blog and found the answer to his questions, I thought I would still answer his question here. Plus, I thought I would provide a few links to previous posts, where I explored some of the answers to his questions.
He asked: “Is your blindness congenital or the result of an accident?
Actually, two questions: If not congenital, how long have you been blind?”
Is my blindness congenital or the result of an accident? That's a bit of a trick question.
Well, my Uveitis, which I contracted when I was eight-years-old is indeed what doctors would likely classify as congenital. But the Glaucoma, which is the theif that stole my sight, was kind of sort of an accident. I'm blind due to what we consider malpractice of a doctor. It is my opinion, along with countless others, that the doctor that was treating me at that time did not take the steps to prevent the Glaucoma from taking over and evicting my sight from my eyes.
The doctor was giving me steroids for the Uveitis. And steroids can result in Glaucoma setting in. Well, he was not looking out for this disease, even though he was giving me steroid injections in my eyes. When he finally diagnosed me with Glaucoma, I was grossly ill and my sight was already making a mad dash into the land of "Goodbye Forever".
Yes, we sued the doc. But we needed a medical testamony from a doc that could testify that it was indeed malpractice. Well, the doctor who was working tirelessly to try to reduce the effects of the Glaucoma killed himself. And when he died, he took his testamony where ever he went.
Yes, my experiences are so varying and unusual. Angie's Life... What can I say?
How long have I been blind? I started losing my sight at age 10. I lost all of my functional sight at 17. When I was 19, I lost the light perception that I was clinging to. I have not seen anything through these wrecked up eyes of mine in nearly 15 years.
Here's some links to posts that I have written regarding the onset of illness and my visual disability. Enjoy reading, for all it's worth.
The Genesis of My Eye Problems
Changed Forever
Brown Eyes
**Boy, this was a long entry. Next time, I will break the questions down in separate posts if it looks like it's going to be this long again. Well, I hope I answered your questions to your satisfaction. If not, ask me to clarify. And if you have more questions, I'm here to answer. And that goes for anyone else out there. Ask away...
Until we meet again, love God and His people. May you find peace, satisfaction, and fulfillment.
Peace,
Angela
UPDATE: My friend CB called me this morning and went off because I told my story about the broken ankle with his actual name. Even though he didn't remember the set of events around the injury, he did not like it that I called him out on the world wide web. As he requested, and only because I love him so much, I took the time to edit this post to change his name to his initials instead of his actual name.
Now, for the purpose of disclosure, I want anyone that reads this to know that I love this brotha. He ain't the best guide, but he is better than most. And although he's not a great guide, he's a wonderful friend to this girl named Angie. And for the record, CB has not caused me to have any more accidents since then. I haven't had to kiss any walls or stumble off any steps because he was guiding me. So, I guess he has improved over the years.
And Randy: Thank you for policing my blog. I guess my assumption that no one that actually knows me is reading my blog was just disproved.
Randy, my darling, I'm glad that you're reading. I do consider it an honor.
While I'm at it, let me refer my readers to your wonderful website.
Readers of Nuvision: Check out my friend Randy. He's a wonderful music artist. I call him Randy. But his name is Randevyn. Check him out.
His upcoming project is set to release in September. Show the brotha some love.
I'm out.
A
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Why I Decided to take Questions
In the recent weeks, I've been thinking about hanging up my blogger's hat and discontinuing my commitment to Nuvision for a Nuday. I figured that I would either stop blogging once I got to 200 posts, which I'm almost there. Or I would stop blogging once I hit my birthtday, which is July 12th. Whichever event came first, I really, really had almost come close to ending all of this. Nope, I wasn't going to take down the blog completely. I was just going to stop posting.
Well, before I signed out, I wanted to take some time answering some questions that some of my readers may have regarding me, my blindness, my experiences, or whatever. Heck, if you want to ask me about anything, shoot. I'm open. I'll let you know what I think about all manners of things. **smile**
After having a conversation with my best friend, who currently resides on the left coast, I decided that I owe it to myself and others to continue in my quest to inform, to enlighten, to educate, to expose, to create awareness about what it is like to live life with blindness. The whole reason why I started blogging was to give sighted folks the opportunity to see life through the eyes of a blind woman. Not all blind people... Just me... Like I've said before, my experiences are mine and mine alone. However, many of my experiences as a blind person are not unique. But I guess what is unique is how these experiences impact me, how I respond, and how I view myself and my place in the world because of these extremely significant experiences I have had because of the veil that has been draped over my natural eyes.
Well, even though I have decided that I'm not going to stop blogging on Nuvision anytime soon, I still want to take those questions. In fact, I'll answer questions anytime. But for the next few months, probably the entire summer, my post will be the answer to some of the questions that have rolled in as a response of me opening myself up and announcing "question time" on Nuvision for a Nuday.
So, relax and ask me a question. I don't bite. I just answer. And most of the time, even if the question makes me feel a little uneasy, I still won't fly off the handle. I might not give you the answer you want. But I will answer. So, please ask.
Later today, I will post the answers to questions that I have received from three of my readers. And if any more questions roll in before the end of the day, I'll answer those too. So, check me out later tonight.
Peace,
Angela
Well, before I signed out, I wanted to take some time answering some questions that some of my readers may have regarding me, my blindness, my experiences, or whatever. Heck, if you want to ask me about anything, shoot. I'm open. I'll let you know what I think about all manners of things. **smile**
After having a conversation with my best friend, who currently resides on the left coast, I decided that I owe it to myself and others to continue in my quest to inform, to enlighten, to educate, to expose, to create awareness about what it is like to live life with blindness. The whole reason why I started blogging was to give sighted folks the opportunity to see life through the eyes of a blind woman. Not all blind people... Just me... Like I've said before, my experiences are mine and mine alone. However, many of my experiences as a blind person are not unique. But I guess what is unique is how these experiences impact me, how I respond, and how I view myself and my place in the world because of these extremely significant experiences I have had because of the veil that has been draped over my natural eyes.
Well, even though I have decided that I'm not going to stop blogging on Nuvision anytime soon, I still want to take those questions. In fact, I'll answer questions anytime. But for the next few months, probably the entire summer, my post will be the answer to some of the questions that have rolled in as a response of me opening myself up and announcing "question time" on Nuvision for a Nuday.
So, relax and ask me a question. I don't bite. I just answer. And most of the time, even if the question makes me feel a little uneasy, I still won't fly off the handle. I might not give you the answer you want. But I will answer. So, please ask.
Later today, I will post the answers to questions that I have received from three of my readers. And if any more questions roll in before the end of the day, I'll answer those too. So, check me out later tonight.
Peace,
Angela
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Basic Disrespect
**I know that I made this little promise to not blog about issues on my job, but this is important to me. I need...I must make a point about the importance of accommodations on jobs. If you are an employer, consider my words.**
I cannot get those that have the authority to create change at my place of employment to realize how incredibly disrespectful it is to place a printed piece of paper in front of me, without even considering if I would like an accessible copy. They take out time to make sure that the employees that are def have an interpretor or a transcriber to translate verbal communication to American Sign Language or print. So, why is it that they can't take a little time to e-mail me the hand-outs, just so I can at least have an accessible electronic copy, that I can choose to read with the help of my computer with speech, or that I can print in braille?
Since I see them go out of the way and spend thousands of dollars to provide the employees that are def with reasonable accommodations, I really wonder why is it that they just insist on not understanding why the accommodations I request are both reasonable and necessary to help me do my job effectively and efficiently. It would appear to me that these people, that pay me a pretty good salary, would want me to do my best on my job. What kind of sense does this make? They want me to do the job, but they don't want to give me the tools to do my job. They want me to provide quality services. But they don't want to provide me with the same level of training they provide the other employees, so that I can provide quality services.
I've been working for this employer for nearly a year; and I'm finally getting a few of the reasonable accommodations that are necessary for me to do my job. And still, there are some, that are completely aware that I can't see a damn thing, who insist on questioning why do I need an accessible copy of training materials that they must feel are important enough to give to the sighted employees. If the training materials are not important, and listening to presentations are good enough, then everyone should have to just listen. No one should be able to take notes. No one should have a clue what the trainer thought would be a good idea to be on the overhead projector.
I sometimes wonder if they continue to disregard me because of my race and age. You know, it is possible... And it just might be my disability. I am one of two counselors, who have no sight, that have been "allowed" to be employed by my division in the entire state. What's up with that anyway? We are a agency that assist disabled people, including blind people to go to work, but my agency is tripping about hiring more than the two of us, and about accommodating us. This makes me sick!
I would file a complaint. But I know how these people work. They would come to work to make my life a living hell. Instead of them doing the right thing, providing me with the accommodations that are reasonable and necessary for me to do my job, they would just take offense to my complaint. They would take it personal. And you know how people typically respond when they take issues personally or with offense. They get catty, and they go for blood.
What should I do? Should I stand up for what I know is right and make enemies? Or should I stay quiet, deal with it, look for another job, and hand them my resignation for their continued disrespect? Or should I resign now and look for a job afterwards?
Help!!!
**I know that posting this entry on the net is probably professional suicide. Putting my issues with employer on the net for all to see is probably a no no. But they continue to disrespect me in public. So, I'm crying out about it in public.**
I cannot get those that have the authority to create change at my place of employment to realize how incredibly disrespectful it is to place a printed piece of paper in front of me, without even considering if I would like an accessible copy. They take out time to make sure that the employees that are def have an interpretor or a transcriber to translate verbal communication to American Sign Language or print. So, why is it that they can't take a little time to e-mail me the hand-outs, just so I can at least have an accessible electronic copy, that I can choose to read with the help of my computer with speech, or that I can print in braille?
Since I see them go out of the way and spend thousands of dollars to provide the employees that are def with reasonable accommodations, I really wonder why is it that they just insist on not understanding why the accommodations I request are both reasonable and necessary to help me do my job effectively and efficiently. It would appear to me that these people, that pay me a pretty good salary, would want me to do my best on my job. What kind of sense does this make? They want me to do the job, but they don't want to give me the tools to do my job. They want me to provide quality services. But they don't want to provide me with the same level of training they provide the other employees, so that I can provide quality services.
I've been working for this employer for nearly a year; and I'm finally getting a few of the reasonable accommodations that are necessary for me to do my job. And still, there are some, that are completely aware that I can't see a damn thing, who insist on questioning why do I need an accessible copy of training materials that they must feel are important enough to give to the sighted employees. If the training materials are not important, and listening to presentations are good enough, then everyone should have to just listen. No one should be able to take notes. No one should have a clue what the trainer thought would be a good idea to be on the overhead projector.
I sometimes wonder if they continue to disregard me because of my race and age. You know, it is possible... And it just might be my disability. I am one of two counselors, who have no sight, that have been "allowed" to be employed by my division in the entire state. What's up with that anyway? We are a agency that assist disabled people, including blind people to go to work, but my agency is tripping about hiring more than the two of us, and about accommodating us. This makes me sick!
I would file a complaint. But I know how these people work. They would come to work to make my life a living hell. Instead of them doing the right thing, providing me with the accommodations that are reasonable and necessary for me to do my job, they would just take offense to my complaint. They would take it personal. And you know how people typically respond when they take issues personally or with offense. They get catty, and they go for blood.
What should I do? Should I stand up for what I know is right and make enemies? Or should I stay quiet, deal with it, look for another job, and hand them my resignation for their continued disrespect? Or should I resign now and look for a job afterwards?
Help!!!
**I know that posting this entry on the net is probably professional suicide. Putting my issues with employer on the net for all to see is probably a no no. But they continue to disrespect me in public. So, I'm crying out about it in public.**
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