DISTURBING RARITY REALITY!


http://wereblog.com/12-year-old-boy-with-a-rare-condition-with-his-head-hang-180-degrees

This is one of the reasons why my blog, Special Persons are People, Too! got conceived.

It’s not much really as I have failed to maintain it thinking it was a futile attempt at publicizing what my thoughts were regarding things, other special persons, and my pathetic quest to know more about my congenital defect. I did not have the absolute clarity as to the purpose of my putting up a blog. I felt it was useless; and my thoughts were: ‘Who am kidding? What in the world was I thinking putting up a blog nobody wants to read? To think I’m not an accomplished writer! Who cares about things like this?’

After several years of hiatus, I finally found better motivations not only to keep my blog afloat, but above all, to make something out of it as an instrument in service of humanity. On top of writing and sharing my thoughts and that of others’, I shall try to promote better understanding and awareness about us as God’s special creatures, to disseminate information as to the legitimacy and morality of our rlghts and privileges as also members of the society who ought not to be discriminated, oppressed, persecuted, looked down upon, bullied, and deprived of our basic needs having been borne to a society that should respect and celebrate those who are ‘slightly different’. It’s gonna be one tough journey; but we all have to start somewhere.

I pray for wisdom and resources for whatever purpose The Universe has drafted and designed for me.

GENETIC ANCESTRY, MY …!


(On the prompt, “What Percentage of Who You are is Genetics Versus Your Choices?”). I would rather prefer to think that I am more ‘me’ because I ‘chose’ to.

What and how I am now I should thank my genetics for. Err… Huh? Says who? As far as I’m concerned, I don’t owe anyone or anything in this matter, anything at all! So there’s no point for the thank-you; the extension of gratitude is of no consequence. And ‘genetics’ isn’t even a person, d’uh.

But, wait! How about in the biological sense? For sure I must have come from somewhere (or from something even!). Ahhh, yes. Although it is true that I owe my existence from genetics, I would rather prefer to think that the greatest part of me, about 95%, came to be because I consciously steered myself this way and that to be the ‘me’ now. Which means: genetics has little to do with my present existence; but a deliberate effort, however, has the most dominant catalytic force in myself.

But since the case requires for some quantification, I’ll say I am just five percent due to genetics; and I am 95% me otherwise is because of my choices. As much as possible, I prefer to think that my biological ancestry has nothing to do with me at present. So, 5% is the most I can genetically account myself with in terms of valuation.

Because that is how I choose it to be.

If, on the other hand, I ‘choose’ it to be the other way around, well, who the hell would dare stop me from twisting and turning my contentions anyway? Fact is, for as long as you can justify it, particularly if you can justify it ‘good’, you can get away with it. That’s making a choice; genetics has nothing to do with that.

And, whichever contention I may uphold and strongly assert with the best of my ability (so help me God?), it will ‘be’; because, again, I ‘selected’ it. My preference will be palpable; it will come out clear, objective. This will be evident on the conscious taking of a specific task or function. There is command, and the infallible orchestration of the will is apparent. This goes to show that in effect, genetics becomes dormant while choice predominates in people as they grow to be more and more aware that they have the power to do, and thus, be.

Furthermore, it’s like: in the beginning of life, or at conception period (or is it the embryonic stage already?) in the womb, Genetics starts to take the center stage. Fast and furious, bathing in fame and fortune, it plays a very big role in the drama of life that’s about to unfold.

There are stages in one lifetime; and when the age of maturity is reached-at 18 years old-a person’s growth spurts gradually cease playing the ukulele. Yep, people stop increasing in height around this age; the breasts are fully formed (what if women’s breasts don’t stop growing? hmmm… I just can’t imagine!); and it is said that the brain stops growing at this point. This is when adulthood is reached.

When people mature, or when they are adults already (is this when they get to be allowed to avail of things for adults only?), they develop the capacity to think better, like weighing the consequences of a future action or thinking for the best in everything they opt to do. In short, they generally make the most use of their faculties to think (and discern and decide and perceive…). From 18 years of age onwards, the trend never stops.

Eventually, Genetics lost his shine. Great opportunity for Will; he takes over. Gene (My nick name for Genetics, if I may?) got depressed and faded away, and ultimately died a fatal death. And that’s always the trouble with Gene-18 years tops, never further. Clearly a quitter; too bad.

From the age of maturity until around the end of a lifetime whenever it happens to be, Will gets to be captain, pilot, mother(or father?) majorette, mother (or father?) superior, pope, prime minister, president, king, you name it.

Will gets to be anything as long as he thinks it, decides he wants it, and boldly takes action for it. Seems like a good recipe for a meaningful life, don’t you think?

No wonder Will always gets what he wants and totally deserves it, too!

THE PHYSICALLY CHALLENGED: a race forgotten, misconstrued


We call them freaks. We pay money to see them make fools of themselves.

We make fun of them as if their feelings don’t count. As kids, we harass them the first

chance we get. Because we have no tolerance for the askew, the crooked, the odd and

the physically gross or absurd. We think of them as non-human. Maltreatment and

injustice are only a common form of torment. .. (in this era wherein ‘beautiful’ is

defined by the perfection as to physicality, elegance and sophistication,and largely

depends on the carats of gems on the bejeweled class of the society where the rich and

the famous choke on over dosage of fame and overwhelming wealth).

In an age and time where everything gets fixed or “converted” into

something new and beautiful (at the right price) in the ultimate quest for the

preservation of youth and for aesthetics’ sake, some of us born rather ‘differently’ seems

to have been thrown in the backstage. Amidst the clamor and din of this fast and furious

rat race, these least of our brethren have been, since time immemorial, considered

second class citizens.

 

We tend to forget that amongst us, between the living and the dead, there

thrives a breathing, feeling faction of our race that silently, in the shadows, desperately

struggles to outlive a cruel, indifferent civilization where only the best, the brightest

and the most able have the privilege to rise up and hear the bells.

What does it mean to be congenitally defective today? True, more and more

consideration for the physically disabled and/or “special people” have never been better

with the rise in growing social awareness for the physically challenged members of our

society. Special seats, lanes, marked lavatories, especially designed walkways and

tracks, custom- made prosthetics, gadgets and what-have-yous became commonplace in

our feeble attempt to show them we care and that they count.

 

Truth is, these attempts are just to quench the guilt deep inside us. We

should be convicted and hanged for enjoying so much while they suffer in the shadows,

out of the limelight, unwillingly bathing in shame at the mercy of the bonds of

insecurity, hopelessness, envy and hate-forever stuck, forever needy and forever

irrelevant and useless. We should be fined and punished for the awesome feeling after a

nature trail hike where we got the chance to bask in the glory of seeing the world from a

different light and being able to fully experience all of its wonders. We should be

tortured and made to suffer for the awesome sights and sounds that travel makes

possible.

 

In the end, nothing can ever make up or suffice even, for the feelings of

deprivations and the pain and suffering of the physically unfortunate. These are beyond

reimbursement. Nothing can ever make up for the torment, grief and the sorrow that

inability and disability gift wraps them with at birth.

 

But everything gets to be alright

when we are loved. The world seems better, brighter. To quote anew, LOVE is the KEY.