Friday, 27 April 2012

Why I'm Not Drinking the Kool Aid.

The madness it seems continues unabated.

On Monday, Every Australian Counts have organized a ‘rally’ to promote the biggest policy catastrophe since ‘The Loans Affair’ of 1974. What they are ‘rallying’ for seems to be of little substantive importance. They want policy change and they want it now, dammit! It matters not that the NDIS amounts to eating a sandwich filled with diarrhea, sure it constitutes food for the starving, but it is sick and unhealthy.

Yet again, participants have no idea of the policy implications of the NDIS. The Government and the Opposition have blindly followed each other in backing the scheme, which as of yet has no policy infrastructure, and as is designed merely serves as a policy organ to promote corruption within disability service providers, many of which take advantage of suspicious loopholes to begin with. It matters not apparently that the chief 'ambassadors' of the policy do not have a disability, and Every Australian's self appointed 'patron' does not have a disability, and is a politician with no policy achievements or experience in the disability sector. He supposedly has more expertise than fellow supporter Graeme Innes, who is the Disability Discrimination Commissioner AND has a vision impairment! There is no doubt that Every Australian Counts cares about the opinions of those with a disability! 

On top of which the government funded disability information portal ABC Ramp Up (which I often contribute to) was used as a tool to propagate policy ignorance by having one of the scheme's supporters speak of the 'benefits of the NDIS', when in fact she did nothing of the sort.  As usual the article spoke nothing of the policy implications of what the proposed scheme will do. In fact, the only thing it does is articulate a glorified wish list of what an NDIS might, but won’t, provide. I want these wishes too, but it won’t happen as long as the current plans, or lack thereof, are implemented.

So while many of those in the disabled community drink the Kool Aid and ‘rally’ for an NDIS, I will do what the NDIS formulators refuse to do and follow through on a commitment with integrity:

If the policy is actioned, I will not accept any funding that is in any way NDIS related, unless the many flaws of the proposed policy are remedied. I will continue to refuse funding even if is detrimental to my standard of living.

I do not expect this one act to change anything in any way, but at least I will not be party to sheer incompetence and corruption. But it will achieve more than a 'rally' or the proposed NDIS combined.

Thursday, 19 April 2012

Internal Sever Error...

Last Saturday I went nearly four days without the internet. There was no warning. No time to prepare myself for this respite. Initially I came to despair this annoyance. I couldn’t read the tweets as Port played its round three fixture. I couldn’t keep up with my regular schedule of downloading my favourite television shows, but most of all I would be out of the loop: news would go on without my cynical remarks. Would people even notice that I was gone?

I decided to pass the time by trying to be as productive with my thesis as possible. Despite taking a day trip to Brisbane on Sunday, I resolved to work steadily on Monday. The theory being of course that with no internet there would be less distraction. That held true to some extent. Research was easier, plans were streamlined, words came out of my brain at a steady stream. But I was missing something. It was the power to share my ideas with others.

Despite two very good excursions outside the house in those 92 hours, I felt as if the world was passing me by. I could not read the articles of some of my favourite writers, let alone the nine newspapers I consume on a daily basis. More importantly, I missed the ability to communicate with the online periphery: those who know how to contact me online, but don’t know how to contact me personally. The respite showed me who should move from the periphery to the centre, as well as who should do the opposite.

Life without the internet gave me time to stew in my own solitude: think about what will be important as I move to Brisbane (hopefully) soon, what questions I need to ask myself in order to be happy again.

Happiness I have concluded is the hardest thing in the world to achieve. People think it is easy, but most who think this live in a world of self delusion. Half the time humans think they are happy, but are really wholly unsatisfied. So instead of experiencing the loneliness that the internet has provided me with in recent times, I was confronted with an entirely different form of the same emotion. Rather than trying to seek happiness and coming up short I felt isolated as well as literally and figuratively disconnected.

Those 92 hours served as a microcosym for the past 18 months, as I was stuck in a holding pattern, with no real solution as to how to escape it. It confirmed to me that although I am frustrated almost every hour of every day, at least I’m choosing the right plans of attack, even though they seem almost impossible to implement.

The emotion that swirled around me the most in those four days was jealousy. It is such a useless emotion. I want what others have and more than likely they want what I have. And so on Tuesday I was reconnected in the literal sense, but certainly not metaphorically.  

Sunday, 8 April 2012

Complicated

Finding someone who matches what I thought to be my rather simple criteria has proven to be the most challenging aspect of my life. Far harder than undertaking a PhD. I have so far failed to satisfy the majority of my needs.

Here are the scenarios I have encountered (and in some cases more than one applies):
  1. A woman is interesting, likes most of the stuff I do, is generally awesome, and is very attractive but only seeks to be friends with me for any number of reasons.
  2. I fail to live up to expectations. I am boring because I have substance. I am not a testosterone filled wanker. I love talk politics, philosophy, history, movies, music and literature instead of being a dip shit. This somehow works against me.
  3. My credentials are intimidating, and women find it nerve wracking to talk to me (apparently).
  4. They hate the whole crippled business.
  5. They lead me on despite me being very clear about what I want from the beginning.
So not only do women have to fulfill my needs, we have to avoid the above complications. This has proven to be utterly impossible and frustrating beyond belief. It has become some sort of weird musical number come to life.

The end product I desire seems rather simple to me. How hard could it be to find a good friend who shares common interests, is willing to share intimacy of all kinds and someone who wants respect, love and trust?

Tuesday, 3 April 2012

Time to Give a F"ck

One of my Facebook friends just commented on a photo of two drunk girls kissing in a Brisbane nightclub and it popped up on my feed. It was taken directly off the nightclub’s web page.  Minutes after the photo was posted one of the kissing participants clearly stated that she did not consent to this photo being distributed. In today’s culture this is often regarded as socially and sexually acceptable. Yet days earlier, there was a public outcry when Kelly Vincent, a South Australian Senator, proposed laws which would give consenting adults with a disability the right to see a sex worker. What’s wrong with our society? You can drive a track through the outrageous double standards at work here.

Most conservative know-it-alls rage against the prospect of subsiding people with a disability to have sex without knowing the benefits of such programs. Little do they know that sex is a valid form of physical therapy for many people with disabilities. Therefore, subsidizing sexual activity for those who need it, is just as valid as subsidizing occupational therapy as State Governments already do. Or do people wish for me to pay for that too? 

No, I’m not being cute. Apart from the other obvious pleasures, activities of a sexual nature are the only time my body and my brain work in co-operation. Sex allows me to explore what my body is capable of in a positive, enjoyable environment and gives me incentive to manipulate my body more than (tax payer funded) physiotherapy ever could.

Then there are the emotional and psychological benefits. As I have discussed previously sex is one of the main avenues towards physical and emotional intimacy. We all need a good fuck once in a while.

So why should others decry such an important and innovative policy? I would ask those who are still opposed, how they would feel if they were denied sex for several years, even decades? Or even worse, what if never had sex in your entire life? You think you could cope? If you are deluded enough to say yes I would offer a blunt response.

Fuck off!