I recently saw a video on Facebook of a fellow cerebral palsy sufferer (minus the wheelchair, unlike me), working out in a gym. I watched this chap lifting weights, rowing on a machine and using a treadmill – but none of these things caught my eye. Indeed, it wasn’t anything to be found in the video but rather the caption it had been posted with, which made reference to the man “battling” against his condition to use the gym equipment. It was that single word that I took issue with, since it evidently hadn’t been chosen by the man himself. It seemed more likely that it had been written by someone able-bodied, with no personal experience of cerebral palsy and therefore no idea that – in my mind at least – dealing with it is anything but a battle.

Generally speaking, anyone who has cerebral palsy has it from birth, regardless of how long it takes for them to receive a diagnosis. Being a lifelong condition, it is hardly insignificant, but in my case there is little to do except learn to live with it and become as independent as I possibly can. Some people have suggested to me that it is a hardship, and Will has even described it as such in one of his posts here, but at no point in my life have I ever been able-bodied – and that means nothing ever causes me to feel bitter or think about what might have been. In actual fact, I feel very lucky to have the physical independence and mental capacity that many others with more severe forms of cerebral palsy sadly do not, and it is this that drives me to oppose the idea that my life is a “battle”.

It’s just normality for me, and it is beyond my control, but I’d rather face it with a smile on the outside and happiness on the inside than feeling like a victim who is constantly fighting an oppressor. I’d be willing to bet that everyone else with a type of cerebral palsy similar to mine would say much the same thing – if it was a battle, everything would be so much more disheartening, and maybe we’d never get anything done! I’d just like to think that in the midst of his exercise regime, the man in the video never once saw himself as fighting a battle, but merely as someone who was determined to reach his fitness target for the day, and then to get into the shower as soon as possible.

Mason

When Mason asked me to do another blog post, I was more than happy to oblige; but naturally I had to wrack my brains to find a suitable topic. Or at least one I’d actually want to write about. Thankfully, Mason already had a question waiting for me – what makes life worth living? This question is one that has many answers, and the answer you’ll get is completely dependant on the person you ask. I can only answer for me, of course, but my gut instinct was to say the little things are what makes life worth living.

To me, little things are the things that make me happiest. The smell of freshly cut grass and old library books, the taste of my first cup of tea of the day, the feel of fresh bed sheets, the thrill of trying something new, a sweet message from my partner or a friend, a compliment or a smile from a stranger – although all cliches, all give me that little buzz of happiness in my gut. Another cliche answer is love. Whilst this wasn’t my gut-instinct-answer, it’s all too true. Not just the love of a boyfriend, girlfriend, wife or husband, but the feeling of support and warmth from family and friends. When I’m feeling down, you can guarantee that my other half or my best friends are there for me in a heartbeat. I don’t consider myself to be someone with a lot of friends – but my closest friends are always there to remind me life is worth living.
They say to do one thing every day that scares you. Sometimes, just living can be the scariest thing. But if it wasn’t hard, it wouldn’t be important. Remind yourself that the little things are what makes life worth living, and you’ll be okay.

Emily

You may or may not have noticed that I haven’t mentioned that book I was planning to put together from this blog recently. I was going to take a lengthy break from writing here to focus on it, but there was only a month between the post announcing that in January and my first one back in February. Whilst the book is still a New Year’s resolution, it might take a lot longer to get round to it than I’d initially anticipated, and this is probably because of the marked lack of motivation I’ve noticed recently.

Now, Mum might say that I never usually have that much get up and go anyway, but this is different, a whole new ball game. The simple fact of the matter is that aside from work, and the writing I do here and for the good folks at F1Today, there’s not an awful lot I can occupy my time with at the moment. Yes, I’m independent in my wheelchair and I could get on a bus and go where I wanted within reason, but that’s not all there is to it. There’s undoubtedly a gaping hole in my life today, indicating something missing – but try as I might, I just cannot put my finger on what that is. Whether it’s an activity, a person or contentment itself, it isn’t there and it needs to be put back again. Sooner rather than later, if that’s at all possible!

Speaking of people, I haven’t really seen any of my friends recently and that’s made this worse. It’s not anyone’s fault at all – rhey’re at university or busy in their own jobs and lives, but it’s still hard going without seeing a friendly face for weeks and sometimes months on end. When I look at it with that kind of timescale, it does hit home just how alone I feel sometimes, and the lack of companionship does affect my enthusiasm towards going outside. After all, what’s the difference between being alone in my own home, and being alone in the middle of town?

Yes, I realise I’m rambling and moping at this point – and what could possibly be more annoying for a reader, eh? But I feel like I need to say these things, because I can’t help but think that I beat about the bush a little too much. I need to find something or someone that’ll help me get my “oomph” back, so to speak. When it’s here, I’ll know about it, because I’ll be able to get up in the morning without being able to feel anything niggling at me. In the future, I’ll be able to pinpoint that stage as the point at which I was able to say, “everything’s all good”. I’m not asking for miracles or the perfect life – just for a good balance of everything, be it work, socialising or other miscellaneous projects. I just need to find the right catalyst, and I’m sure the absent spark somewhere within me will ignite once again.

Mason

Mason recently posted an article about friendship, and I wanted to give my input. For me, friendship means a lot, maybe more than it does for other people.

In my opinion, a friend is someone who makes life easier, be it in a large or small way. Whether it’s by making you laugh or encouraging you to cry, they just make life better. In a different way, though, I see it as an investment. If I put time and effort into a friendship, I always hate seeing that time lost when the friendship is broken. Losing a friend is always heartbreaking for me, as it negates those shared experiences. It’s painful and miserable, which is why I try and avoid doing it.

One thing I’ve learned since being at uni is that your friend doesn’t have to be constantly present for that relationship to remain strong. Mason and I haven’t seen each other in months, but our friendship is still as strong as it was when we would meet every morning. I think it shows how strong a friendship is when it can be maintained without constant communication.

Friendships are important to me because for a long time I didn’t have any. Until Year 11, there weren’t many people that I would call friends. I slowly became part of a group where I realised that some of those people could be firm friends, and they have remained so. The members of that group know who they are, and should know my affection for them. I’ve made some incredible friends, especially in the last five years.  It is also crucial to realise who among your circle are actual friends, and who are almost superficial. Making those mistakes can hurt you in the end. So, I try to hang on to the true friends purely because I know what it’s like not to have any.

Now, talking of friends, I wanted to shine a spotlight on Mason. Over the six years of our friendship, I’ve realised how strong our relationship is. It is based heavily on humour and the several cock-ups we’ve made. Just sitting on his doorstep (because we’d locked ourselves out) giggling improves my day massively. He is one of the few friends I have that I see more as a brother, given how similar and close we are. From upside-down wheelchairs to vandalising common room posters, we’ve made several memories as the disastrous duo. Here’s to several more, pal!

So, if you want to take something away from this post, it’s that finding friends might be hard, but once it’s done, life becomes easier. Keep them close, because it’s difficult to get them back when they’re gone.

Will

“Friends show their love in times of trouble, not in happiness.” – Euripides

 

Exactly one year ago today, I went with Deanna on my first – and so far only – night out. I know this because I blogged about it on that very afternoon, writing a post which remains the most-read of any so far on this site, with 63 views. Without looking back at it, I seem to remember looking forward to the evening ahead because it was uncharted territory that I was eager to be finally exploring. I was right to feel like that, as it turned out, because one year on I still look back on that night fondly, and I’m very glad to have spent it with a friend as dear as Deanna.

It began in the first of four pubs we visited during the evening, with my first of five JD and Cokes, and ended just before 3.30 on Sunday morning when I had to stop Deanna – who was by that stage decidedly worse for wear – from lighting a cigarette in a petrol station. In between, there was my very first cocktail, the simple but very tasty Black Russian, at least two pints of beer to accompany the six other aforementioned drinks, and various tipsy snippets of conversation I can’t recall with people I can barely remember either. There was one bloke who was a friend of Deanna’s, and I bonded with him to the point of declaring him my best friend, as you do when you’ve had a few – except I haven’t seen him since, and until Deanna confirmed he was real I even wondered if he was just a figment of my imagination. She and I both paid the price for all the alcohol consumption the next morning with particularly sore heads, but I didn’t mind too much.

I felt that my first night out had been some kind of initiation test for adulthood that I had passed with flying colours, and although she already seemed a seasoned veteran at that sort of thing, Deanna enjoyed it too and we still reminisce now. She stayed at my house that night, and took the opportunity to scrawl a message on my whiteboard upon waking up in the morning:

“Thanks for a great (albeit hazy) night! xxx”

Even now, I haven’t rubbed it off – partly because I can’t be bothered, and partly for posterity. I could be reminded of far worse things, after all! Deanna and I did try to organise another night out shortly after that one, but we never got round to it and as I say, I haven’t been on one since. Frankly, at a time when I’m feeling pretty unmotivated to do anything at all, I wonder if it might do me good to finally repeat the experience, be it with Deanna, someone else or on my own. Maybe I’ll write a “Part 3” as a sequel to this post if it ever happens. But in the meantime, I just thought I’d commemorate the anniversary. It’s actually made me crave a JD and Coke…*

*other drinks are available

Mason

Earlier this week, Emily asked me another question I thought fit to answer in a blog post, because I had realised just how useful questions are as inspiration when I need it. Come September, I will have known her for seven years, and whilst we were discussing our shock at how that time has flown by so quickly, she asked me how I think I’ve changed since then. I’ll be honest, I don’t think there’s been a straightforward linear change, for better or for worse. Instead, as the title of this post suggests, I would say I’ve come full circle.

I should probably provide some background at this point so you know exactly what I mean. When Emily and I came into the same mentor group at the start of Year 9, I was – as she points out – incredibly shy. According to her, I would only really speak when I put my hand up to answer a question in class, which really doesn’t surprise me at all. As I may have mentioned before, my mentality for many years was that it was probably better if I simply said nothing and stayed out of everyone’s way, because what did I have to offer to them? Why would anyone legitimately want to talk to me? It probably sounds a little like I’m fishing for sympathy here, but that’s what I thought and it remained that way until the start of sixth form, when someone very special unknowingly helped me to come out of my shell more than I could ever have dreamed of. Whilst this person understood they had made this contribution to my life, I don’t know if they could grasp how or why it was important, but nevertheless their decision to come and talk to me as I waited in line one day changed everything. For the best part of two years, I was more confident and happier than I’ve been before or since.

Sadly, the special person and I eventually fell out – through no fault of theirs, I should add – and subsequently I went through quite a dark period without them, when everything they had given me in terms of strength and confidence evaporated. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t regret what happened, but unfortunately it did, and I caused it so I must bear the consequences. Nowadays, I come into contact with a lot of new people at work, so I guess it’s not as bad as it was, but I still can’t say that I feel like the man I became thanks to that person in sixth form – and that’s why I see myself as being like I was when I met Emily. As it happens, I wondered today if I’d lost motivation to do anything or go anywhere, and if that was because I thought of myself as lame in the eyes of everyone else. After all, who would want to be troubled by someone like me?

Mason

So, Will thinks he’s the new captain of the ship, does he? Not so, I’m afraid – yes, I’m back as I said I would be, and it’s thanks to a question I was asked a couple of weeks ago that I now feel the compulsion to answer. I feel like most people would be able to answer it quickly, confidently and knowledgeably, but when it comes to this I am not “most people”, because it requires a closed and definite but extensive reply that I am simply unable to give. What is this question, I hear you ask? Nothing quite as dramatic as I might be making it sound, but let me enlighten you.

It was Emily who posed it – not so much as a question, but a request. “Describe your three closest friends without using their names”, she said. Now, Emily and I have been talking rather a lot recently, to the extent that I could easily have included her in my description – indeed, I initially felt a little pressured to do so. But I could also have included Will, Deanna, Tamara and a number of others who have each been a big part of my life, and it was at that point that I realised I would find it really hard to nominate three of my friends as best ones, let alone to know what to say about them. You might think I’m too much of a wuss to commit to three choices for fear of upsetting the people left out, but I genuinely think of all my friends as being on an even keel, all equally as important to my life with personalities that would be sorely missed if they were to vanish. It’d feel wrong and against who I am to suggest any kind of hierarchy, or that one is more loved than another. To me, it is vital that everyone is treated equally no matter who they are and that mentality spreads to every part of my life, including this one. It’s why, when I’ve fallen out with people in the past, the whole predicament will stay on my mind for as long as it takes for the situation to be resolved – or, in the sadder situations, for me to move on from it.

Emily, I hope this answers your question to some extent. I know you’ve been waiting a little while for it and I apologise if it’s not quite what you were looking for, but the answer for me is simple as aforementioned, and I have given one that is as comprehensive as I can make it without lying to myself. If you’re a friend of mine, you should know you’re the best, and that as long as you’re near me you’ll be just as valued and appreciated as anyone else nearby.

Mason

Since Mason has gone on a soul searching mission (or something, I wasn’t really listening), he asked me to write a few posts in his absence. This was a bit daunting for me. This whole year, I have been suffering from a debilitating case of writer’s block. I’ve meant to start writing my own scripts for university, but have been incapable of finding an idea. So Mason decided I write a post about it, as a true cop out.

To me, writer’s block is something I get every time I get given an assignment. For the last couple of months, I’ve had a void of motivation. I love writing, but there is nothing scarier than creating a story. But it is something that you have to deal with as a writer. If you let it get the best of you, you will never finish a script. So, I’ve compiled a short list of methods that can help you shift an idea.

The first is an exercise that was taught to me by one of my lecturers. Think of a four letter word. Any four letter word. Not that one, get your mind out of the gutter! Next, think of four words, each one having the same first letter as each letter of the first word you thought of. The weirder the better. Then see if you can make some sort of sentence or phrase out of those words. Finally, see if you can think of a story from that. It’ll most likely be a strange and brief concept, and it may never go further than that phrase. But it’s forcing your brain to start processing the story. You may start thinking of characters and action sequences. I’ve used this several times as a warm-up before a writing session, and it really does help.

The second tip is something that also gets the mind working. Go for a walk. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a place you visited before or a totally new area. When you’re a writer, you should see everything from a different angle. See how you can make a story from the couple arguing. From the old timer putting their shopping away. Keep your eyes and ears on, because the real world is brilliant. How about getting the train or bus somewhere? Every person you see has a story to tell. See if you can give them a story just by watching them. Mason and I have spent a lot of time people watching, and have decided whether we like that person from a few seconds of visual cues. But they can give some great character ideas. The second week of uni, we went to Blackpool, and were given the task to find something that gives you inspiration for a story. I looked everywhere, from the location to the people to the seagulls. One of those things can be the pebble that is thrown into a pond, subsequently creating large ripples that will follow you to the final full stop.

The third tip is something quite simple: start writing. Can you see how to untie a tricky knot by just looking at it? No, you have to start pulling at it before you can unravel it. Your first few paragraphs may be pointless and unintelligible, but it can help you focus and straighten up. If you can’t figure out how to start a script, leave it till last. Work on a particular scene. Write the ending, then work your way backwards.  Writing does not necessarily have to be linear. It can take ages, working at it from several approaches. Personally, I hate endings. Sometimes I just want to write a thousand pages, rather than try and wrap the story up. So I will write nearly the whole script, then wait for days whilst I figure out the perfect end. The mountain isn’t going to move by looking at it, you have to start climbing. Yes, you may get stuck, but that summit will also keep you down until you conquer it.

Please note that there are many ways in which writer’s block can be broken. It is a horrible feeling, but it is possible to defeat. Mason has had it, I’ve had it, it’s normal. But just do something, don’t let it beat you.

That’s all for today, I will continue posting on this page for a while until the prodigal son returns. After all, I am the captain now.

Will.

“Don’t waste time waiting for inspiration. Begin, and inspiration will find you.”

― H. Jackson Brown Jr.

I suppose I should start this first post of 2017 by wishing you all a belated Happy New Year. Then, I should apologise, both for taking so long to follow the last entry up and for the fact that from this point onward, you might be reading a bit less from me for a little while. Indeed, I’m writing this now as less of a full post and more of a note, to let you know that there might be some bigger gaps between updates than there usually are. I’m going to divert my focus towards a book I’ve wanted to put together for some time, filled with extracts from this very blog and some new bits I’m going to try and write alongside them. It might take some time and I obviously can’t tell whether the outcome will be something to be proud of, but I have to attempt it and that means relaxing my presence here where necessary.

I will be back from time to time, however, maybe to tell you about my progress – if I make any! I’m hoping that Will, Emily or Grace can keep the blog going while I’m away, because I’d like them to be able to express themselves, and I’d hate for the site to gather dust! That’s all from me for now, I’ve said what I wanted to say – but I will return, and maybe when you least expect it…

Mason

Last year, I tried my best to write a blog post with this very title, but ultimately I couldn’t quite pull it off. It may be that I even felt a little bit of pressure with regards to committing my thoughts about Christmas Eve to “paper”, such is my love for the day. Christmas Day is the crowning glory of the entire festive period, of course, but to be at home for 24 December – and the preceding week – has always been equally as magical for me. It’s for this reason that I’m not going to worry too much about writing a masterpiece right now. Instead, I’m just going to focus on the glee that is always immediately stirred inside me.

Waking up on Christmas Eve is, for me, a little bit like waking up on the day before my birthday, such is the feeling of anticipation within. Every hair stands on end and the butterflies are quick to make themselves known in my stomach. The excitement is just the same now as it was when I was younger, and it makes me feel weightless – I live in the moment and my cares just slip away. Today I had to wrap the presents I’d bought for Mum, Dad and Louis, and on any other day wrapping would be a mild inconvenience. On this occasion, however, I couldn’t think of it as a normal chore, one of those run of the mill tasks we might try to put off. Instead, it was tackled with a solid smile, alongside everything else (even if all I did was hold the sticky tape). 

The same smile even extends to the crib service at church in the early evening, which we’ve been to for as long as I can remember. Whilst we aren’t religious, it’s a little tradition that has become synonymous with Christmas Eve, and as such it is always positively received. We continued said tradition earlier today, and followed it up by really pushing the boat out and going to the pub for a couple of drinks – in my case, a Coke (full fat, because life’s too short for Diet) and a lager. They went down well, as you might expect, and I can think of no better way to finish the day than sitting in my front room with a cuppa and the Christmas tree aglow, watching the legend that is Peter Kay. All set for tomorrow? You bet!

Mason