I Don't Regret Being Blind

I rarely lament being visually impaired. Even lately, with my vision worsening, it's not something I do. Sometimes, I think wistfully, things would be easier if I could just skim documents like a sighted can, or if I could just read and write (in print) the answers to my own work instead of having to find a notetaker for certain circumstances. But everyone wishes for things they either can't have or can't do. So why should it be any different for me?

I can't skim a document because in braille, it's hard, I'd even say impossible, to just let one's fingers glide over the words waiting for something to pop out at you. You actually have to pay attention to the words. And it's not as though you can visually scan for bolded or highlighted text. But, sometimes, if your using a device like the BrailleNnote—essentially, a braille computer—then you can use the search string or text finder to search for words that you feel are important. Or find, sometimes more quickly than the sighted person scanning, the passage that your professor is reading. So an easy work-around.

In my lab class, all of the labs are paper-based and the PDF'S that the class has to print out are inaccessible with my screenreader—a software that reads most, if not all, of the visual content found on a computer screen (I use voiceover, Apple's screen reader). So I need a notetaker for this class to both read the labs to me and then write my answers. It's a little annoying, because sometimes this causes me to fall behind a little depending on how long it takes to find someone, but again, fairly easy to fix.

This post was prompted by someone on the train today, asking if I wished I could see "normally".

"Well," I told them. "The way I see is normal to me."

"You know what I mean," she sounded flustered. "See like… with both eyes."

Sometimes, sure. I realize how convenient life would be. Instead of needing a note taker for my Weather and Climate class, I would be able to see the images my professor points to and have no trouble getting all of the notes. But I can't.

I didn't say this to the woman. What I did say was:

"Sometimes. But I'm happy with the way things are."

"Well God bless you," she said. "This is my stop but I'll keep you in my prayers. I'll pray for you to get your sight back."

"Have a good day." I told her. What I really wanted to say was: "Thanks. But I never had twenty/twenty so that prayer is kind of pointless."

But I choose my battles. And I realize that for most, if not all of the people who say things similar to what that woman said, it's not coming from a place of cruelty.

It can be frustrating though. People constantly praying to change me, or not understanding how I could be happy as… well… myself.

I'm blind, visually impaired, whatever. And I'm cool with it. Why shouldn't I be? I can't change things. Not easily anyway.

Just because being blind and happy is unfathomable to you, doesn't mean it's impossible.

***

So, on January 25, Mending Misconceptions turned 2. I would have written a celebratory post like I did last year, but I was lounging around my godmother's house in Atlanta that week, and not thinking about blogging. I have no excuses for the other two weeks of radio silence. I had so many plans for my winter break; all involving artistic hobbies that I either had to put on hold last semester (it got really intense) or things that I've always thought about but never seriously worked on. … I did non of that. I worked, read, ate and slept. And it was glorious.

Well, I hope you all have a wonderful week. My next post on braille reading speeds should be up by Saturday. And in the meantime, don't be shy, check out my latest vlog upload.

till next time

довиђења ( (Goodbye in Serbian/Montenegrin)

I Slapped Someone Today... By Accident

As texted to my sister and a few friends:

• Um… I may have just backhanded someone by accident.

• As I was walking, I put my hand up, the one with my phone in it, to rub my nose. On my next step, the back of my hand connected with the side of someone's face.I was in the process of lowering it… it didn't make a cool resounding sound, I assume because there was no real force behind it, but it startled both of us. I'm not sure why she was so close considering I was in the middle of the sidewalk but… yeah…
• • But then, I think she was just .. standing there!!

I was very startled by the encounter. And when my sister sent me back a laughing emoji I was like it's not funny! But a few seconds later I started smiling. It was just kind of surreal.

And something I forgot to tell them in the messages was that after having slapped this woman, she asked if I was okay. … WHAT?

***

Look out for the post I have scheduled for tomorrow at 8. In the meantime, check out one of my latest  Vlog videos. My sister and I went to DC, and people were actually speaking to me like  I was a person. (Watch the video to better understand).

See you around… or rather, you'll see me :-)

To Margaret and Roman: Two of My Favorite Strangers

Hello my dearest readers,

I know, it's been nearly a month since I wrote to you all.  But this semester has been more trying than the last .  I've also, as has happened in the past, been having trouble coming up with things to write about.  It's been a lot easier rambling on camera for the vlog than sitting down and writing.  I hold a far higher standard for my writing than I do for my videos-which, of course, isn't to say that my videos are of poor quality-but I am a perfectionist when it comes to my main craft and it is so easy to digress on camera.

But the final day of classes is the 19th, and while I'll be taking a summer class, I'm going to be a lot stricter with myself with my "at least one post a week" rule.  And I will try to make it consistently on Saturdays.

But anyway, I've managed to digress from the reason behind this post: Margaret and Roman.

A few weeks ago, I went to a Yankees game with my sister (she was given two tickets at work).  It was actually my third time going to a baseball game: the first in fifth grade where the Mets lost to the Yankees 0 to 1, then came the camp trip when I was thirteen or so (it was the Staten Island Yankees) and I never got to see the game because it rained, and then this event where the Yankees won 6 to 3 against the Tampa Bay Rays.

On my way back to my dorm that night, my sister and I were in a different part of the train than I normally ride in.  So when I got up stairs, I was slightly disoriented.  I knew which intersection I was at, I just wasn't certain of my direction: so which way was east, west, etc.  As I pulled out my phone to check maps, the kind lady who'd helped me find the turnstile when I was in the train station, offered me further assistance by orienting me.  The kind lady, who I later came to learn was Margaret, and her son, Roman even went so far as to walk with me the entire way to my dorm.  I was going to take the crosstown bus (because though it was a rather nice night, I was feeling lazy) but she told me that they were headed in that direction anyway.  So after a brief bout of indecision (that's one of my personality traits) I agreed and we set off.

On the walk-which involved crossing four avenues (for my readers who have never been to New York, an avenue block is the equivalent of anywhere from one and a half to two and a half regular city blocks)-the three of us talked about all manner of things with school and books being two of our main subjects.  Nine-year-old Roman is an avid reader (a trait I hope you never lose) and Margaret as well, so we traded names of authors and books we liked.

I think one of my favorite moments was when I asked Roman if he'd read the Percy Jackson series and he said "yeah, I read that a long time ago" (or something to that affect).  I definitely had an older person moment because I thought something along the lines of "really dude? How long ago could it have been? My long ago was about four years ago when I was fifteen, and you were probably just past toddlerhood." Of course this was thought good naturedly.  I think I then went on to think something along the lines of: "kids" and how different time is depending on your age.  Then I reminded myself that I wasn't even that old, only nineteen.  And I laughed at myself and resumed our discussion.

Once we'd reached the point at which we were to part ways, Margaret offered to just walk me all the way home.  It only put them about two blocks out of their way, but it was still an extremely nice gesture.  And then, upon arriving at my dorm Margaret realized that this was the location where she and Roman came to swim weekly (the school rents the pool and gym to outsiders).  And that was an exciting coincidence.

As they walked me to the front doors, she also commented on the beauty of the tulips that were blooming outside of the building.  I made a point of stopping and checking them out in the daylight the next morning, and they are quite lovely.  So thank you for mentioning them, because it might have been a while before someone else pointed them out to me.

Upon entering my room after leaving them, I called my sister to let her know that I'd arrived and about the pleasant strangers I'd met and promoted myself to (by telling them about the blog).  I then talked to one of my friends, who I also regaled with the story of my walk with the strangers.

"They walked me all the way home," I told.  "And we spent the entire walk talking but it was neither awkward or frustrating."

"Oh that's good," she responded.  "I was actually going to ask if they were annoying."

And I'm delighted to report that you were not.  There are so many people who offer assistance to me and, when I take it, talk incessantly about things I either don't care about or don't have that much to say about.  I realize that that may sound unkind, but generally, when I accept assistance from people it's because they were being pushy and I did not want to argue.  How I feel about the chatter is also dependent on my mood.  As I told Margaret, I don't care that your best friend's boyfriend's cousin's ex-wife is, was, or is going blind.  Well, actually sometimes those stories are interesting.  Or if the person is going blind, I can offer up information about resources.  But generally people just throw the information out there with no real purpose.  Usually causing me to respond awkwardly "oh, that's cool" or "really?".  And after the person says "yes" or something to that effect as response, it doesn't lead anywhere.

On Thursday, someone asked if I needed help crossing the street, upon shrugging and saying sure, the guy said "my elbow is here".  When I looked up in surprise, he was like "my mom's blind, so I know what to do?.  Then we crossed and parted ways.  That was a cool interaction; it was short, sweet and the relationship to the blind person was relevant.  There are other people that know to offer their arm/elbow because of helping other bl/visually impaired people or maybe from observation or the assumption that offering one's arm is less strange than holding hands.

But anyway, I went completely off track there (so much for my words at the beginning of the post, right?).

As I arrived at my dorm yesterday, the public safety officer stopped me and told me that Margaret and Roman wished him to give me their regards.  I was very confused initially so he began to hesitate a little:

"Margaret's the mother," he said slowly.  And after another second, the lightbulb snapped on.  And I was excited.  As was the security guard (I guess for it not turning into an extremely awkward situation).

He said that Roman had read through all of my blog posts and that he was extremely enthusiastic about it.

Awww.

So I hurried to my room and immediate began writing this post...  and then I laid down, watched Jeopardy!, fell asleep and finished this at 2 AM (with clips on The Tonight Show's Youtube as my soundtrack).

So I wanted to write this post to let you know that I did receive your regards and that I wished to send my own in return.

Well till next time "Adieu, adieu

To you and you and you?"-Sound of Music

The Great Cane Incident of 2016

Warning: the following post may contain semi-strange formatting. And the slightly disjointed nature of the author’s thoughts may be jarring to some readers. Proceed with caution.

Copied from my Facebook on Friday, April 8:

I swear, Facebook, I cannot make this shit up. I was walking to my first class today, and someone tripped over my cane. I figured that it would probably

be a little bent but usable, it's definitely happen before. But rather than being a little curved out of shape, The bottom most fold/link/whatever was

bent almost in half. I thought about trying to straighten it, and once I put a little bit of pressure on it. It pretty much snapped.

I went to the accessibility office after class, using my single usable eyeball and the bit of feedback that the broken came could give me. I almost tripped

down some stairs because, though I saw and expected them, there were a bunch of people in the way and I was trying to get around them. And of course, today

is the day i decide to wear my boots instead of sneakers so the heel caught on the step... But luckily for me, most people react quickly to a blind person

stumbling, And my reflexes aren't terrible so...

Well, I'm off to class now with my scotch taped cane (they didn't have duct tape).

My thoughts

                As you can tell from the start of the post I was... I’m still not sure what word best describes how I felt. I wasn’t angry, more confused than anything else. People trip and hop (yes, hop, not even jump) over my cane quite a bit. And so I’ve had to replace a few because they were bent out of shape… but it’s never been broken. It was a little surreal, I guess.

                I don’t usually curse, and so I knew that using it in my post would really get people’s attention.

Everyone Else’s thoughts

                It was interesting, looking at the comments.

The ones from the people who knew me best all made light of it while the ones from family and acquaintances were all panicking and worried about my well-being. My fellow blind and visually impaired people sympathized. One person told me they had four spares by their door and one in their bag at all times while another told me that she’d replaced her cane three times so far this year. Luckily, I did have a spare in my room (though it wouldn’t have been hard to get a new one).

                                After telling her the story, my godmother asked if I’d “caught a big one”. That made me chuckle. The person was small in stature though I’m uncertain of…width.

I’m just still surprised that it broke. And now that I think about it, a little annoyed. Now I have to remember to get another spare. Sigh.

Well:

Sorry I was gone for such a long time. That whole college thing was rearing it’s head, and rather aggressively, I might add. I had papers galore. And when I wasn’t working, I was sitting and complaining of boredom. Then I’d remember my darling readers, but have nothing to write.

But I have been updating my blog (it’s easier to ramble on camera than write and perfect my posts to my satisfaction).

Check out my original poem, about people’s reactions to me. I wrote it a year ago. And when you’re through with that, watch my latest Vlog: What You've Always Wanted To Ask A Blind Person. It’s long, but hopefully the content makes it worth it.

For my blind and low-vision readers:

The three pictures I included are of me: one of me holding the cane and then two of the cane by itself: one showing off the tape and the other how bent it was.

‘till Saturday

Chao (the Spanish spelling)

I Miss Making Rolie Polie Olies

            All right, first, there will likely not be a post tomorrow because
1.  I have no idea what I'm going to write about, and
2.  I'll actually be behaving like a stereotypical teenager, so I'll be "out".

            So you're getting your post early.  (As usual, be forewarned of the needless backstory).

* * *

            I have two classes today, the first one, at 11:10, was made optional (for today only) because we have a paper due in a few days.  So my professor decided to use the time to work on her Masters thesis and to conference with any student who felt they need help.  So, though I woke up a few times between 6:00 am and 9:00, I didn't actually get out of bed until around 10:15.  I then paced for a while before finally beginning to get ready for the day.  And I ended up leaving ten minutes later than I was supposed to (this is what happens when you're schedule is messed up).  But I still would have gotten to the second class in time had it not happened.

            As I'm leaving the dorm building, one of the security guards comes up to me and offers to walk with me to the gate.

            "It's slippery," she says.

            Though I'm pretty sure I would have been fine, I nodded and murmured my agreement.  She takes my arm and I correct her; I'm supposed to hold her arm.  And we start moving.

            Upon reaching the gate, she tells me to have a nice day and I wish her the same.  She kept using my first name, and I was proud of myself for not correcting her each time.  I've grown a little more comfortable with it over the years (out of necessity, since there are some people who either forget or simply refuse to call me Lily).

            But anyway, after the guard—whose name I don't think I ever knew—and I parted ways, I turned right, heading toward First Avenue.  As I walked, I had my head turned slightly to the right (I can only see out of my left eye, so I usually have to turn my head to see things on the right side).  I was looking out for the City Bike rack, I always have to remember to look out for it so I don't stumble over a bike tire.  I see the person move up beside me, but I think nothing of it as I continue monitoring with my eye and sweeping my cane from left to right.  It's New York City, there's always people.

            Then my cane jerks.  I pull it closer to my body, and pause mid stride.  I think the person tried to cut in front of me.

            Did they fall? I ask myself.  It doesn't look like it and I didn't hear anything.

            In the seconds it took me to mentally ask that, and continue walking, they're on the ground...  and rolling (they roll onto my foot a little), and I see them hunch in on themselves.

            WTF? I think.

            I'm a little stunned.  I thought they were fine.  Did they fall in slow motion like eyenurse? It's times like these when I wish my vision was a little better, not twenty/twenty, but just enough for me to have seen the fall from start to finish.

            My lips curl upward (well, I'm always smiling, so I guess, to be more accurate, the upward tilt widened).  I wanted to laugh...  she freaking rolled! Which then made my think of Rolie Polie Olies.  And I had to try so hard not to laugh out loud.

            "Are you alright?" I asked, my voice hesitant and not quite loud enough to cut through her moaning.

            Did I forget to mention that? Yah, she was moaning.  That's how I figured out it was a woman.

            "Hey! Are you alright?" A man walks over to us.  And then a girl soon after (I think she's a fellow dorm resident).

            The man went to the lady, who wasn't speaking English, but a language that sounded like some flavor of Asian while the girl just stood there, the only thing she'd said was "oh my God" when she first arrived.  He kept asking if she was alright, and offered to help her up.

            "Okay," he said, voice strained.  "On three.  One, two, three."

            She didn't get up.  She said something in her language and then rolled over and lifted my cane, tapping it as she did.

            "It was this, it was this."

            Honestly, my first thought was:

            Why the F is she touching my cane? No, it was not my cane's fault, it was yours.

            My next thought was berating myself for being a terrible person.  Then I shrugged it off.  And I started fidgeting, wondering if it was appropriate for me to leave yet, I had to get to class.

            The guy tries lifting her again, and she's up this time.  I turn to leave and then stop.

            The lady says something in her language, then the guy tells me that everything's fine, and I can probably go, while the girl touches my arm gently, reiterating his words.

            There was a quick second wherein I wondered why she was touching me, I didn't feel it was necessary.  But I got over it, smiled pleasantly and went on my merry way...  to be nearly twenty minutes late to the next class.

* * *

            Later, as I was getting off of the train (I was heading to work) someone was rushing past me off of the train and also tripped over my cane, this time knocking it from my hand.

            "Oh, I'm so sorry," he said. “Are you okay?”

            I just shrugged and was like, “yeah, can you get that for me?” as a very adamant Caribbean woman began yelling at him.  He handed me my cane and I left the station.  The woman seemed a little offended when, upon turning to me and asking if I was okay, I just shrugged it off.  It happens.  Which is my usual attitude.  Except for this morning.  Where I was extremely annoyed.  Irritated.  One of those words...  but not angry.
Well, till next time (i.e.   next Saturday, or sooner)
Adios

Addendum:

Watch me rant about another person that tripped on my cane. It happened an hour or so after this post:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLOCAHjeCXA