Allison Unfiltered

Um, no, looks like it's still there.

After the earthquake, stuck in traffic and shooting the breeze, this happened.

"I'm worried about my dog."

"Eh.  He'll be fine."

"What if things fell in the apartment?"

"He's in a crate and he's low to the ground."

"What if there's a gas leak?"

"He's low to the ground. He'll be okay."

"Yeah, but he's on the third floor."

"Hmm.  No, he's still pretty low to the ground."

"Yeah, but if the building explodes in a giant ball of flame, it won't matter how low he is."

[pause] "That's true."

"Yeah."

Because there's nothing else to write about.

"So, your book's about... writing, right?"

"No, I'm writing a book."

When he stared at me with a blank face while I laughed my ass off at the pun only I'd perceived, I knew my dorkiness was confirmed forever.

How to tell if your kid has had a good summer day

Freckles multiplying.  Hair smelling like chlorine.  New friendship bracelets on her wrists.  And when it was my turn to go to bed, I opened the door and found this.

 

My birthday's in a few months, people.

If you've been paying attention to my twitter feed you know I'm in Denver, the beautiful state of Colorado.

(And if you're thinking of referring me to that old site pleaserobme.com, don't forget I've got this nasty, mean dog holding down the fort at home.) 

Saw this box of tea at my hotel gift shop this morning.  Thought it was perfect.  Turns out it's sold by this company, blueq, which happens to have a whole bunch of other stuff that might come in handy should I ever need it...

My morning finish line

This is the view I'm greeted by each morning when I walk the half-mile from the metro station to work. 

I used to take the bus to the back of campus where I'd drop L'il Red off at school before walking to the main campus for my classes.  If that sounds tedious, shut up. 

The walk from L'il Red's building to mine was less than the length of a football field, and yet I stumbled over, gasping and panting, stopping every few feet to plant my hands on my knees and curse the world for making me take that hike.  And those were just the mornings when I'd missed the bus that would ferry me one block over to the next building; walking was something I did under pain of social death (translation: only when someone gave me a dirty look for waiting for the bus).

So excuse me while I greet these mornings with the sheer thrill of accomplishment.  Sometimes I imagine that blinding hot sun is the incessant flashing of cameras at a finish line and my sweaty neck and cleavage is the sign of victory.  I've come a long way, baby.

 

p.s. This morning I did the walk in heeled sandals.  Five thousand one hundred sixty three bonus points for me. I win.

My new friend/found object

This little guy apparated onto my desk amidst a pile of my notes and files at some point while I was in Vermont.  I've named him Mattie the Elephant.

No idea why he came to visit.  He's cute, though, so I've decided he's welcome to stay.

 

When the sighted get taught about seeing.

I watched a blind woman walk to the metro yesterday. 

She used the tactic of sticking to the right side of the sidewalk, tapping her cane in wide sweeps as she went.  I was fascinated as I watched her progress.  I couldn't help it.  Being blind is something I know nothing about.

She walked down the sidewalk, toward me where I was standing by the wall.  As she neared and I realized she was going to stay on the right side, I stepped forward and let her pass behind me uninterrupted, and then stepped back to my waiting place.

She kept traveling down the wall, to where usually the wall would end in the doorway to the metro station.  But yesterday a white van was parked between her and the door.

People were staring.  I wasn't the only one.  I saw a young guy, college age, call out to her.  Her back was to me by then, so I don't know if she answered.  I saw him say something about the van in her way, and he gestured toward it too.  Then I saw him say something about following his voice, and her path began to deviate as she followed him and he kept talking until she was well alongside the van.

Then the young man turned around, good deed done for the day, and went on his way.  I smiled then.  It's nice to know people still notice those little things, make the connection between people and the things their environment means to those people.  Warm fuzzy moment.

The blind woman kept walking.  She was about to walk into a lamppost that stood between her, the van, and the doorway.  People were still staring, some of them turning around to watch her progress.  The young guy who'd helped her turned around to check on her.    He stopped, turned around, and began to walk back towards her.

She stepped around that lamppost and walked into the metro station. 

The young guy stopped when she disappeared, shrugged, and turned back around and started walking again. 

Yeah, baby!  I cheered for her then.  More because she'd showed that guy, even if she didn't  know it, than because she'd walked through a doorway she's probably walked through countless times before without any help. 

On a tangent, watching this reminded me of reading this poem, "The Magic Wand," by Lynn Manning a couple weeks ago in a workshop.  I love how it shows the change in perception of people once something different about them is noticed.

Even if I did nearly break my nose the first time I braked in my rental car...

When this week is over, I think the thing I may miss most is driving these long, winding roads through the emerald hills of Vermont.

Goodbye, Goddard.  You were good to me this week.

Representation of Disability in Hollywood: "Code of the Freaks" video -- a MUST-WATCH!

I attended a workshop by Kenny Fries this week, "Extraordinary Bodies."  It was intended to give attendees an overview of disability representation and get them thinking about writing characters that may fall under the category of disability, whatever that means to you.

Kenny showed this extra-long subtitled trailer for "Code of the Freaks" during the workshop, and I fell in love.  I absolutely cannot wait for it to be finished.  There's no mention of us deafies in the trailer (except for a brief mention of Marlee Matlin at the end -- and the context in which she appears had me laughing.  Out loud.  Hard), but I related quite a bit to the statements the trailer makes.

Watch it.  If you're disabled in any way (visible or not), or know anyone who is, you'll relate.  If you're not and you think you don't know anyone, you'll learn something new.

WATCH, dammit.

 

Code of the Freaks (work-in-progress) from salome chasnoff on Vimeo.

Oh, and you can find more information about the documentary project here.

Update: link for the documentary project has been fixed.  My apologies, my dear internet elves!