As part of my ongoing activism in favor of being treated like a human being rather than an alarming epidemic, I am, once again, pushing back against Autism Awareness Month with satire.

I’m posting an “inspiring” story of overcoming autism every day in April at  http://autisticacademic.com . Feel the inspopornation!

(For 2015’s satire campaign, see http://fieldnotesonallistics.com )

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Still Don’t Grasp the Social Model of Disability? Try DST!

Daylight Saving Time is quite possibly the best real-world example of how the social model of disability works that I have yet seen, as this past weekend has painfully reminded me.

Like a lot of people, I spend a week or more after the time change dragged out, sleeping poorly, unproductive, and with wildly varying moods.  Even people who don’t consciously notice the difference to their own health or mood express it in their behavior: studies show that productivity tanks, people argue more, and the number of fatal accidents increases due to the time change.  In other words, DST does a real number on our quality of life – at least temporarily.

What does this have to do with the social model of disability?

The social model of disability states, essentially, that while we may be impaired by conditions that have a medical, bodymind-based cause, we are not disabled by those conditions unless we run up against social conditions that don’t accommodate them.

For instance, using a wheelchair doesn’t actually “disable” the person who wants to go places.  The wheelchair gets them to the places they want to go just fine…until they need to get into a building that doesn’t offer a ramp.  The lack of a ramp is what disables them.

The power of the social model lies in the way it exposes these disabling conditions as largely constructed: that is, they are under our control and we can change the way they are set up.  Humans built those stairs; humans can build a ramp instead or alongside.

What does this have to do with Daylight Saving Time?

DST is a human construct nonpareil.  Unlike stairs and ramps, which are at least constrained by concrete realities like labor-hours and, well, concrete, time is a completely fictional agreement that only exists because we all agree that it does, based on some loose shared perception of when is “now” versus when is “then.”  And so is DST.

DST only happens because we, as a society, agree to change our clocks forward one hour at 2 a.m. on some predetermined day.  Because we all do that, we put up with the disabling consequences for a while after: the disrupted sleep, the brainfog, the mood swings.  These are “symptoms” of a disability that only exists because we participate in a fictional social construct: the time change.

The medical model of disability, which locates disability in the individual and turns it into a problem to be solved by Science, doesn’t have room for DST-disability.  There’s no DST Disease that people get for a few weeks every spring, and that magically resolves.  We disable ourselves.  The social model just underlines how.


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Primarily Silly: Michigan Primary Predictions

Some people have Oscar picks or March Madness brackets; I have the primaries and Supreme Court nominees.

Here are my predictions for the majority of votes in select Michigan counties tomorrow, in approximate geographic order east to west (“select” here means “counties I have lived, worked, or spent a great deal of time in”):

Wayne: Clinton, but her margin over Sanders will be narrower than is currently expected.

Oakland: Clinton, by a landslide.

Genessee: Sanders.  Snyder made sure it’d be a Democrat, and the least slick-looking one of the bunch at that.

Hillsdale: Rand Paul write-in.

Washtenaw: Sanders, by a landslide.

Jackson: Cruz/Rubio split, but which one comes out on top will depend on the direction of the breeze.

Calhoun: Trump, narrowly.

Kalamazoo: Sanders, but the margin will be narrower than is currently expected.

Van Buren: Cruz and Rubio together earn more votes than Trump, but split them so that Trump takes a plurality.

Berrien: Trump.

Allegan: Trump, narrowly.

Barry: Trump, excessively.

Kent: Clinton, believe it or not.

Mecosta: Trump, with a weird-looking blob of Sanders votes just over the southern border.

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The Ylphybyt

Apropos to nothing, here is an excerpt from the satire on fluffy-bunny “Wicca 101” books I was, apparently, working on in undergrad.  I gift unto the world: the Ylphybyt!

The Ylphybyt

Are you at a loss as to how to conceal the secrets of your most anciente religion from the world – but still look cool doing it?  Been struggling for months – nay, weeks to grasp that silly squiggly but oh-so-mysterious Theban Alphabet, to no avail (how ever did those Thebans manage)?  Well, study no more, for at last the easy (and therefore Truly Witchy™) answer is here!  May I present: The Ylphybyt!

The Ylphybyt offers the following features:

*Easy to use

*No need to remember “I before E” or any other silly rules

*No fear of invoking icky demons through careless misspellings

*It’s portable – No large books to haul around

*Looks properly ancient and mysterious

*Guaranteed to be incomprehensible to the unenlightened hordes

The key to the Ylphybyt is to replace every vowel with the letter “y.”  It’s that simple!  See how the use of this ancient yet simple system can change any work into a mysterious Ode to the Gods:

“Yyps, Y dyd yt ygyyn,

Y plyyyd wyth yyyr hyyrt, gyt lyst yn thy gymy, yy byby byby

Yyps, yyy thynk Y’m lyvy, thyt Y’m synt frym ybyvy,

Y’m nyt thyt ynnycynt.”

Not only does this transformation instantly cloak your work in an air of ancient mystery, it’s also historically accurate.  In the Middle Ages (back when your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother was being burned for your sacred witchy beliefs), vowels had only just been created by the evil Church.  Anyone who desired to follow the Ancient Snuggly Goddess Religion of their ForeMothers wrote in “y”s only.  Of course, this made them much easier to identify, but their horribly painful sacrifices ensured a world where you can write in the same style they used and achieve almost total obscurity and ignorance!

Just look at what a few of our devoted fans are saying about the Ylphybyt:

“The Ylphybyt has made my life so much easier!  My teacher used to yell at me for not being able to spell, but once I wrote my term paper in the Ylphybyt, I managed to make her read a magic incantation that would turn her into a toad!  It didn’t work, but the two weeks I spent in detention were more than worth it.”   ~Ravenstar Sunchips

“People used to laugh at me because, being able to read, they knew more about my religion than I did.  Now who’s laughing, you book-learning bastards?  Huh?”  ~Stomping-Centipede Mc’Moon::Puff

“I swear I don’t know who blighted the mayor’s cattle!  Stop burning me!  Ow!”   ~your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother

With rave reviews like that, who can resist?  Try the Ylphybyt today!

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Inchoate Thoughts on Disability, Access, and Cost

So I’m writing a thing for a client that repeatedly posits alternate forms of contacting their business (phone vs. email vs. online form that sends an SMS message) as “conveniences.” And I find it odd, because for me, text-based communication options aren’t “convenient,” they’re an access need.

To cast them as “convenience” in all cases elides the ways in which we set, without interrogating, a “normal” against which disability is measured. Could I call this business? Yes, in the sense that I’m not physically incapable of communicating by phone – the only sense by which I was allowed, for my entire upbringing, to think of being “disabled.” I was thus expected to understand my difficulties with phone communication as a “preference” for the “convenience” of text-based communication, not as a disability-related access need.

I was never allowed to ask what the cost of things like phone calls *should* be. Imagine my shock when I got to my early 30s and discovered that, no, it’s not normal to work so hard to do things like phone calls that you burn out, nearly die, and have to be hospitalized for an extended stay. Twice. Before you hit 35.

If “the norm” had been made explicit, my access need in relation to it would have been apparent as the *need* it was. Because the relevant question, not just for me but I think for disability in general, is not “are you physically capable of doing the thing?” It’s “are you capable of doing the thing at a cost relatively similar to the expected average human cost of doing the thing?” If not, it’s time to address your access in order to get your cost closer to the expected average.

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Blogging, Submissions, “On Spec,” and “For Exposure”: When, Where, and Why You Should (Not) Write for Free

Want to be a writer?

The good news is that there are endless outlets for folks who want to see their work in print (or in pixels) and are just getting started in the business.  Science Daily estimates that 90 percent of all the world’s data has been generated in just the past two years – and a significant chunk of that is written.  It’s writing.  Someone wrote it.  Why not you?

The bad news is that most of these outlets will exploit the crap out of you if you let them.  Yes, I’m talking about working for free.

Here’s the first thing you need to understand about writing for free:

1. You are doing work.  

Writing is work.  It’s work no matter how much you love it.  You are expending time, effort, and attention to create something that does not currently exist.

Here’s the second thing you need to understand about writing for free:

2.  Your time, effort, and attention are valuable.

Yes, even if you’re having “fun.”  You get a finite number of minutes per lifetime; you have a finite amount of energy to expend on things you do in your day.

Which brings us to the third thing you need to understand about writing for free:

3.  It’s you giving charity.

Your time, effort, and attention are valuable.  When you focus them to produce a piece of writing, that writing has value.  When you give that writing away without being compensated for it, you are giving charity.  It’s a gift.  And like all gifts, you are not obligated to give it.

Naturally, a lot of companies realize that simply asking people to give them charity doesn’t fly.  So “write for us for free!” is often (though not always!) masked with other terms, like “on spec” or my personal favorite, “for exposure.”

What do these terms mean?  When should you write for free, and when should you avoid it?  Here’s what you need to know:

Continue reading

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Writing Makes You Lonely and Weird

I’ve been through a lot of big changes recently, but perhaps the biggest one is this: I’m finally writing the novel.

Writing the Novel(TM) is officially my longest-running life goal.  I’ve wanted to do it since I was about six.  To date, though, lots of things have gotten in the way: school, not understanding how novels work, more school, need to make money so as not to starve (incompatible with novel-writing, as it turns out!), more school, more work, crippling self-doubt….

I have, so far, vanquished none of these.  But thanks to some clever life reorganizing and a job that has informed me that the novel is a priority, the novel is, at least, getting written.

I have learned one thing so far about writing a novel: writing makes you lonely and weird.

This might be the loneliest thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve lived in the woods for a week at a time all by myself.  It’s lonely not because it’s a solo enterprise, but because there is an entire world in my head that excites me.  I want to talk about it.  I want to share it.  I want to infodump or fansquee about this awesome incredible universe and wheeee these characters omg I did not see that coming did you!?!?

(Seriously.  My characters are far, far better at plot than I am.)

And it’s weird because I now live in that world all the time.  And until the first draft is finished, I’ll keep living in that world all the time.  Half of me lives here, in the physical spaces my body inhabits; the rest of me lives on a fictional starship in an unspecified part of the galaxy.  And my wires cross.  A LOT.  Which makes my conversation and behavior even more weird than usual.  My scripts are starting to include lines from my own novel – a series of references so obscure, I am currently the only human on Earth who gets them.

I’m starting to understand why writers infodump about their novels in Facebook communities or present them as serial drafts on their blogs before releasing them in print.  But I’ve also realized that anything short of the serial draft is deadly boring to anyone who isn’t me.  And so I’m restraining myself from fansqueeing all about my own work – which is only making me lonelier and weirder.

I’m okay with that.


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