Archive for January, 2007

Cuppa coffee

My expectations of a cup of coffee are much too high. Not only do I want the coffee to wake me up, I want it to give me complete, cozy contentment. I want to cradle it in my hands and feel at peace, and meanwhile, with each sip the day grows brighter and more comforting.

No. In the mornings, I hurriedly pour coffee into the travel mug and drink on the way to work. It tastes like crap and leaves a crappier taste in my mouth when I’m done. On the weekends I take more time with my coffee, but it never meets that expectation. It is Saturday morning. I am in my robe and slippers, I have the cup of coffee in my hands, and I still can’t feel it. Instead I’m thinking about what a goddam mess my house is and all the errands I need to run before the weekend is done. The closest it has come to coffee nirvana is at diners in little white mugs or at the Mist Grill, which sadly closed down for some totally inexplicable reason.

So I wonder if I should wean myself off of coffee. Maybe drink tea instead, and save coffee for the diners, weekends and special get togethers.

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NEK

Steve and I went up to the Northeast Kingdom for the weekend. Everything is blanketed in pure white snow and at night along route 100 the glowing windows of the houses and cow barns are the only lights we see. Snowmobiles race through fields and villages of ice fishing shanties sit smoking on the lakes. And, of course, skiiers on the slopes and trails. Vermont winter has finally come alive. I suddenly realize how active life is around here when it is genuinely winter.

We stayed a night with our friends in Craftsbury. I have always felt that there is something about Craftsbury- a kind of unique, peaceful stillness that I feel whenever we pass through or stop in. One thing I always notice is the treeline and the striking solidarity of the pines. Outside of Craftsbury, the tree tops round out and become thicker and blend together. I guess the best metaphor I can come up with is that if all towns had a musical note, it is as if Craftsbury holds it the longest until it fades away to a ringing stillness. Sounds silly I know, especially when I don’t know anything about music.

My surprisingly painful sore throat has persisted for a week and now I have a lovely cough and deep voice to go along with it. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything for this long.

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A thought wanders into space

The description for the sign “dream” in the American Sign Language dictionary is “a thought wanders into space.” I love that image and the saying will probably cycle for some time, added to the collection of phrases and poetics that stick in my mind over the years. The phrase and sign is akin to blogging really, where my thoughts go into cyberspace. I wonder what the sign for ‘blog’ is.

It’s Sunday night and I have that annoying sore throat thing where the only symptom is the sore throat, which will persist for a number of days. My thoughts are not wandering much tonight.

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Snow day

One of the best feelings ever was when my mom woke me up on a school morning during the winter and she had the super excited expression on her face. That expression meant “It’s a snow day!!” And I would snuggle down in my warm covers and blissfully drift back to sleep for another few hours.

Those days have gone, but today managed to feel a little like that. I had the day off already so I slept in and woke up to a heavy snowfall. I stayed in my robe another few hours and drank coffee and read a book and answered emails. I painted the stairwell with a coat of primer. When we finish that stairwell, it’s going to hard to believe that a basement ever existed in the first place.

I think today was so thoroughly relaxing that I’m ready to go back to work tomorrow.

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Solitaire discussion continues..

on vlog.

And a great comment on Oh I See from A Taste for Ideas:

“It’s odd — I’m almost getting the feeling that people who are born-deaf-raised-oral aren’t just accepting their deafness, they’re awakening to it. (Hearie here, so anyone can feel more than free to correct me.) I’m getting the sense that they didn’t even realize there was a deaf identity — that there was only a hearing identity. The world only consisted of hearing people — good ones and inadequate ones. Like Sarah said, she wasn’t too anything or not enough anything, she was just DEAF.

It reminded me of an interview I saw once on TV about a guy who came out as gay in midlife. He wasn’t in denial about being gay; he didn’t even know he was gay. He thought he was heterosexual with a problem. I never forgot that turn of phrase.

For late-deafened people, I’d definitely call it denial. I have so many memories of my dad tied up with music that I’d be riven if I lost that. But born-deaf-raised-oral is more than acceptance. It’s rebirth, or awakening. and it wasn’t denial, it’s … the void. Nothingness. There is only hearing, and you do it well or poorly.”

Our trip to my parents’ place in New Hampshire was again interrupted by approaching inclement weather, but at least we got in 24 hours this time. Their new place, bought with retirement in mind, is approximately six feet from a large pond populated by ducks, smallmouth bass and snapping turtles. It will be fun to go back for a longer visit someday.

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bear

Steve imitates Bear Grylls from Man vs Wild, british accent and all.

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Picture this

I picked up a box of miniature chocolate chip cookies on my way home from work. Steve and I are standing in the kitchen. I open up the box and remove a miniature cookie. I hold out the cookie toward Steve.

(Camera focuses on the cookie in my hand)

Steve reaches out toward the cookie.

The two hands, one holding the cookie and one reaching toward the cookie fill the entire screen. Then, as the theme song to Jaws begins to play, the scene starts to move in slow motion. Just as it seems that Steve’s hand is about to touch the cookie, from the bottom of the screen, in slow motion, a dog’s head appears. The mouth opens as the dog continues to rise toward the cookie. Even the noise is in slow motion as the dog goes “gl-l-o-m-m-p” and his big lips ripple outward in slow motion.

With exquisite timing, Lucky literally chomps down on the cookie as it is poised in midair between our two hands. It happened so fast that all we could do was stand there like “Did that just happen?” That is the first time he has ever succeeded in obtaining “people food” in this house!

On the side, Lucky models “Pert Plus for Dogs”

100_1500.JPG

100_1498.JPG

No, not really.

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Everyone has something

For the past week or two I have been focusing on the uniqueness and implications of hearing loss. My greater belief, however, is that these experiences are like layers. The outer layers are more unique to me as an individual, but as I continue to explore and move through the layers, the underlying ones are universal in all of us. My experience, and the form it is in of hearing loss, may be in the minority. However, the feelings of harboring isolation and accompanying pain of loss exist in each one of us. Everyone has something- a sacrifice or lesson crucial to their life.

The outer layers: disability, gender, race, religion, sexuality, addiction, autism spectrum, mental illness, trauma, losing loved ones too early, socioeconomic status, divorce, sexual assault, illness, intelligence, family conflict. In at least one of these areas, every single one of us is profoundly affected, regardless of how we may appear on the outside. (Hence, the popularity of PostSecret). Yes, the outer layers are different but the humanity at its core is the same.

At the very core, the feelings of oppression, isolation and grief as the result of outward minority status within any one aspect of one’s life are the same despite the infinite varieties of experience. As we move outward the layers become increasingly unique in terms of how we have been impacted in our daily lives and in our sense of self. I must be able to accept and be centered in my core to be able to connect with another in theirs and you in yours. If I have not allowed myself to feel the impact of my sacrifice, how can I truly relate to you in yours?

My hearing is my sacrifice. Your sacrifice may stem from a narcissistic parent, or alcoholism, or being overweight, or childhood abuse, or something else. It may permeate your entire life or it may occupy a dark secret hole in the back of your mind. It may exist in the past or the future or it may exist always. It is the lesson of your life. The more work you do to embrace it, the more human and compassionate and connected you become.

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Sound and fury

By another curious coincidence, the next DVD to arrive in the mail was Sound and Fury. The thing about getting DVDs in the mail is that the movie is picked out months in advance and usually we are not sure who picked it out in the first place. But this particular DVD arrives this week of all weeks. Steve thinks he might have picked it out because he was looking at documentaries and this one was an Academy Award nominee.

The documentary is about an extended family of deaf and hearing members where some chose to get a cochlear implant for their child and some ultimately decided not to, and both decisions ignited passionate arguments between the deaf and hearing. In one scene, a hearing father calls his deaf son “an abusive parent” for choosing not to get the cochlear implant for his 5 year old daughter. In another scene, a deaf mother calls her hearing daughter “a lousy daughter” for deciding to get a cochlear implant for her infant son. At no point in the movie, despite many chances for discussion, could each side truly understand the point of view of the other side.

My sense is that cochlear implants are essentially hearing aids implanted, and it gives those who wouldn’t benefit from external hearing aids the hearing experience equivalent of hearing aids. It does not restore normal hearing, however it does ensure that the child will learn speech and understand speech. They will, most likely, live the life of a solitaire. This point was not at all touched upon in the documentary- I suppose another whole documentary would need to be devoted to that!

The attitude of the hearing is that the child will have an easier life and will have opportunities that would otherwise not be available. They felt the child was “fixed” similarly as one would be if they got glasses or had an operation so that they could walk. The passionate belief of the Deaf was that the operation was taking away a way of being or a way of life. This was viewed by the hearing as “abusive” or misinformed or motivated by the wrong intentions.

After the movie, Steve and I talked until 2 am. Watching Steve make the shift and both of us amazed at how we had never looked at my experience in this way before was incredible. As he talked about his realizations about how we both acted and lived as if my hearing aids were a part of my body, as if I am not a complete person until I put them in, I felt an incredibly warm sensation in my abdomen. Normally when we’re excited or angry or scared we feel sensations in our chest or our stomach, but this one was different. This was in my guts, and maybe this is the term where “gut instincts” comes from. Seeing Steve make the shift from “she isn’t a hearing person having a deaf experience, she’s a deaf person having a hearing experience” was almost more remarkable than my own shift.

Steve suggested that one day a week I don’t put my hearing aids in and the two of us will practice and learn how to communicate with each other in a new way. I have never gone a single day of my life without wearing them and I realized how little I know about how much I can or can’t actually hear without them. As we continued to talk about this, I began to have the uncomfortable experience of straddling both perspectives of the hearing and the deaf. I had a strong logical voice saying “well, if you are going to take your hearing aids out one day a week and go “all natural” then why don’t you take your contacts out too? That would be just as inconvenient. Why do you want to make yourself more disabled?” and I had a gut instinct that said “something about hearing loss is fundamentally different.”

As we talked further, I began to make more sense of this, of how hearing loss is not the same as visual impairment or being in a wheelchair. Physiologically, there is only one way to see visually and one way to walk as a human being. Glasses or surgery can correct these handicaps so that you achieve complete or near complete capacity. Seeing is seeing, walking is walking.

Hearing is not just hearing. Hearing is communication and there are thousands of ways to communicate the world over. Hearing is communication, self-expression, self-esteem, human interaction and connection and development. Hearing/deafness and identity go hand in hand. When you can’t see or walk, you can still express yourself and participate socially, although you may experience discrimination and others’ discomfort (the impact of which should never be underestimated). When you can’t hear and it impacts your connection with others and your expression of self, your experience of self and world has become imprisoned. Even if you can talk and understand speech in the right circumstances as those with cochlear implants and hearing aids, you are often still imprisoned though no one in the hearing world can really understand or see that. “She looks and talks just fine!” And due to their ignorance, though they may have the best intentions, you have lost something vital.

The deaf understand in their heart what that something vital is. More than once in the documentary, they compared having a cochlear implant to being a “robot.” The more Steve and I talked, the more sense this began to make to me. Hearing aids, to be sure, is an amazing technology and I owe much to it. It did give me opportunities and make me in most ways “just like” a hearing person which our society would consider a success story. But… it is an impaired filter and a unintentioned burden in the sense that I am held accountable to speech. I am told that this is the only way I can express myself or interact with others and though I miss out on a lot, the important thing is that I’m talking and appearing normal. I am kind of a robot, verbally miming and going through the motions. I am cut off from ways of communicating that would guarantee me complete comfort, comprehension, and inclusion 100% of the time.

Oliva writes that of all the solitaires with varying degrees of hearing loss who participated in her study, only a few (I think it was 4?) chose to remain entirely in the hearing world. At some point in late adolescence or adulthood, most of them took a journey into Deaf culture and found a way to be a part of both worlds. In the documentary, the concern was expressed that Deaf culture would become “extinct” due to so many children being implanted as infants. I don’t think they need to worry. When the solitaires get older, the majority of them will come back.

Today is my first day without hearing aids. I did not hear a single keystroke of this entry. Steve and I have had surprisingly successful communications already, part visual signing and part lip reading, and it’s definitely the quickest way to learn new signs. I thought it would be scary, but it isn’t.

See Steve’s entry.

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ticket

Walking down the street toward your car and watching the guy put the bright orange parking ticket on your windshield. 30 seconds too late!

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