So tonight I’m bouncing around MWCC’s website and looking at their academic programs. You know, doing that whole planning what I’m up to after January, which is my family’s and my agreed upon point at which I’m done with FSU
I was looking at their Computer Information Systems associate’s degree program, and saw something that I really liked. I liked it so much I had to go point it out to both my parents because it was just the coolest thing I’ve ever seen any college do.
If you go to MWCC’s CIS Program description and requirements you’ll see that under the helpful hints section it says the following.

The college’s adaptive computer lab, providing assistive technology for students
with disabilities, is available. Technical standards must be met with or without
accommodations.

You don’t see that at Fitchburg State. The only mentions you see of their adaptive computer lab are those on the section of the website pertaining to disability services. Yes, I searched. I looked. The only other things I found were their computer usage policies.
I said this to my parents and I have no problem saying it here. The fact that MWCC mentions their adaptive technology lab on other sections of their website makes me feel a lot more confident in their abilities, and more welcome there as a student. They want us to get mileage out of their services, and they don’t stick it in a little corner of their website and hope people are going to find it. As you’ve seen, they come right out and say this is available, go use it.
As a future student of theirs, I’ll say that in my opinion, the fact that they publicize their assistive technology lab in multiple places on their website makes me feel welcome there as a student. It makes me feel more confident in their abilities to provide the services I require, and provide the required materials in whatever format I may happen to request.
There have been times when I have specifically asked for one format, and asked that another format not be used, and my requests were either ignored or denied for whatever reason. As much as MWCC publicizes their adaptive lab, I somehow doubt that this will be an issue there. Even reading their academic program descriptions has made me more confident than I have been since high school, because I’m starting to see already that I’ll get what I need whichever discipline I choose. I won’t be told “You can’t do that. there’s too much math involved.” or “It’s too visual.” (Except for photography, but blind person with a camera is automatically a bad idea anyway. )
Anyway, those were just my observations for the evening. Maybe some of you will find them enlightening, maybe some of you will just think “Ugh, she’s rambling again.”

Popularity: 46%

So as you may or may not be aware, in the event you’re living under a rock, Shane showed up here on Thursday. Not even an hour after he showed up, came a knock on the door. It was the building director, reminding me of the guest policies and threatening me with academic sanctions, and basically doing her best to make me feel about the size and worth of an amoeba. I yessed her to death for the purposes of getting her the fuck out of my face before I slapped her because I was already prepping for battle because I had afeeling stupid shit was gonna go down. And well, it did.

Then, I remembered last year’s continuous saga of the stupid. My questions for this woman, because I hope to Christ she finds this somehow, are as follows.
Where were you while I was living in filth all year?
Where were you while I sat there in a room which stunk of mold, with someone else’s belongings strewn all over what should have been my side of the room?
Where were you while I sat in health services wondering how the fuck I could’ve gotten a urinary tract infection when I was being a two-shower-a-day clean freak, living with someone who didn’t shower, or even perform the common courtesy of emptying her fridge?
Where were you while I had someone come in and take pictures of the room to make sure I didn’t get dingged hundreds in damages because I lived with someone who didn’t give a rancid shit about personal space?
Where were you when all those complaints were lodged?
Where were you when I was sitting up till 2 and 3 in the morning listening to this girl sob and scream and cry to her boyfriend because he was telling her the truth and she didn’t wanna hear it?
Where were you when I was sick every other week because I had to keep the window open in the middle of February just so I could try and scrounge up some breatheable air?
Where were you when I was washing the same load of laundry twice just to try and make it smell less like rotten mold?
What did you ever do for me when I actually needed you? Nothing. And now you’re threatening me with academic sanctions because I have someone here who actually gives a fuck trying to help me?
Lady, you may be marrie to the rules, I understand that may be the only gratification you get, but you never did anything for me when I actually needed you, so why should you bother with me now?

Popularity: 74%

My brain officially aches. I have had the…what, almost 2 weeks? From hell. Naturally, this computer was the cause of it.

I woke up on the morning of the 5th to one hell of a mess. I restarted the machine, got tossed into a never-ending boot loop. I swore in all kinds of pretty and colorful ways, then I called Shane and explained the problem because at 7 PM on a Sunday evening when I finally got around to it, Lenovo technical support were the last people I wanted to talk to. His theory: My Windows install’s trashed. Well…Shit,

My next course of action, grab the 12-year old. “Here. Read this.”

“But why?”

“Because I asked you to, and this computer’s on crack. Now, read.”

So the child manages with my help to get Windows installed, but no drivers, because, well, going to hunt for those required an Ethernet cable that we didn’t have. So my mother gets it in her head that she’s gonna take it to our local fixit shop and they’re gonna wave their magic wand and make it all better. Yeah ok, smoke some more of that why don’t ya?

She takes the machine in on friday, the 12th, after loudly and screamily insisting that she could take it in by herself and me loudly and screamily insisting that no, I was going with her, it was my machine and she didn’t have to use it, I did. I didn’t care if she paid for repairs, but I wanted to speak to the person(s) fixing it. So grudgingly she took me with her, I suppose because I’m the only one who knew where my personal Windows CD was and well, they asked her to take it in with the machine.

So I walk in, described to the guy what the underlying issue was, what I did to fix it. Now I knew this guy was 1. an arrogant prick and 2. a stupid son of a bitch, because he’s standing in front of me saying he likes Lenovo, and that’s just not something you say to me after I get 2 phone calls within 3 months of each other saying that other students’ exact makes and models, same machine, had literally began smoking, in their faces. (Hi dead power supply nice to see you.)

So I tell the first dude, “We’re bringing this in for a software issue, but I want the hardware looked at too. I’ve suspected a dying hard drive since June.”

I get it back Friday night, hey, cool, it’s working, and they said the hard drive wasn’t dead. I wake up Saturday morning to discover I’m jammed in another endless boot loop! The word of the morning, at top volume, was “Son of a bitch!”

I leave for my grandparents’ place that day because I’m staring at this thing and I can’t fucking take it anymore. I was ready to overdraft my bank account and rush order myself a netbook even though I hate them on principle just because I needed a working computer, and my mother had just pissed $120 into this thing, having the Windows install fixed and putting a 2GB stick of ram in it. All I’d done the previous night was uninstall Open Office and VLC Media Player, which are two programs that are completely fucking useless with a Windows screen reader, and the next morning I wake up and it’s boot looping again.

So Tuesday, Mom drags it back down to the shop. The second ass-clown who worked on it was at least not a complete ass-clown, as he did discover the dead hard drive right away, even though his buddy over there swore to god that Lenovo hardware never failed, but now we have this other issue.

“Oh, she screwed up the hard drive by uninstalling software.”

What? What? As in, the fuck? Which is to say, are they smoking? Also, what kind of drugs are in the water over there? Uninstaling a piece of software should not fuck up the hard drive, unless the hard drive was already fucked over in the first place, which means that *somebody*, ain’t doin’ their job!

I blow up Shane’s phone again, and drop this cute little tidbit of bullshit on his desk. Naturally, he’s about as pleased as I am, but he’s got the net, he’s got a working computer and can do more than I could at the time. He busts out google, does a reverse lookup of their phone number which I had somehow managed to beg borrow and steal. Then, the Better Business Bureau gets involved.

I didn’t do it. During Shane’s conversation with whomever he spoke to over there, we found out that these twerps were operating under expired credentials. So not only were they doing this, but they were sticking inaccessible software on a disabled person’s computer, blaming said person’s removal of the software for their incompetence, then telling said person not to remove said software. Reportedly, someone from the state of Massachusetts paid them a visit yesterday evening. If we find out more, we’ll let you know.

So. that’s been, what, my last, 2 weeks? Freaking out over a broken computer, dealing with incompetent tools, freaking out because it’s broken a second time, sending it in, then finding out the retards who were supposed to have fixed it the first time blamed me for screwing it up, and finding that they were operating a repair business with expired credentials! And on top of all this, I start classes in 2 weeks! I almost didn’t have a working computer for college. Can we say heart attack? Can we say nervous breakdown? I can!

Popularity: 72%

I’m oftin curious what has happened to the kids who followed me through my days at W. Ross macdonald school.
What are they doing these days, etc.
Then I come across an article that
tells it all
My comments follow the article.

BRANTFORD—The morning sun streams through the raised garage door at Bruce Kitchen Automotive. Dust particles dance in the air, and the lighting over each workbench seems muted in the strength of the May sunshine.

Aaron Prevost, 20, stands under a ’82 Porsche 924, having positioned the hoist and raised it to working level. He can discern this sunlight, but only as a contrast shadow. It takes a moment to realize he is blind.

He doesn’t turn his head to place wheel nuts on the table next to him; he deftly deposits them in a precise order so he can find them again later. A quick count around the freed rim with his other hand, he then lifts the tire from its mount. He drops a nut, freezes as he listens to where it lands, then drops down quickly and grabs it.

Everything about Prevost is ordinary, and yet nothing is. Being an auto mechanic is a precise business, and potential hazards are everywhere. Prevost, sightless since birth, walks freely and without a cane, finding hoisted cars and the curled hoses of compressors.

At first glance his workbench looks like any other, but as he snaps through drawers searching for a mallet, his hands skimming the contents, you realize he knows exactly where everything is. A misplaced tool costs time, and time costs money; Prevost insists on being treated as an equal to the sighted mechanics.

This isn’t a job of repetition. The garage specializes in imports, and each car has unique issues. For a kid who started by ripping apart lawnmowers, it’s a story about the capacity of his memory and his ability to learn, but most of all, about his determination.

At age 10, Prevost was pulling apart and rebuilding small engines with the guidance of his older brother, Ben, now 26. Ben, too is blind, born with the same damage to the optic nerve.

“Well, we mostly put back together the stuff we tore apart,” says Aaron with a smile. Soon, they were working on the family cars and there were no concerns about their abilities.

The logistics of moving through a dark world does not concern a young man who’s known no different. The secret to his positive attitude is that Aaron Prevost simply determines what he can do, rather than what he can’t.

Frustration peeks out only in that he is passionate about cars, but can’t drive. Raised in rural Cornwall, Ont., he did what most country kids do: hopped on anything with an engine and drove it anyway.

“We’d take out the 4-wheeler, and my sister would stand behind me and she’d turn my shoulders,” he explains. “It’s pretty effective, though it can get a little crazy when you have to keep the throttle on to make sure you don’t get stuck.”

For the last 12 years, Prevost has been a student at W. Ross MacDonald School for the Blind, a residential school in Brantford. His older brother was already there, making a tough change a little easier. Prevost shrugs it off, wearing his independence not so much as a badge but like a well worn pair of jeans.

“I try to do it all,” he says. And he does. He’s lived off campus for two years now, renting a house with a friend.

Outside the shop, a riding lawnmower sits on a trailer, the housing off. Shop owner Bruce Kitchen told his neighbour to bring the broken machine in because he has just the guy to fix it.

Prevost reaches into the machinery with one surgically-gloved hand, discerns where a metal part is eroding a plastic one, and makes the diagnosis.

Kitchen vetoes the suggestion that having Prevost on board as a co-op placement student might slow down the shop. “He has his specialties — brakes and rotors — and unlike a standard garage, the turnaround times are a little more flexible,” he says.

His voice drops a bit. “Look. It’s just right. He’s earned his place here. He’s a fine mechanic. His first day here, he had the cylinder head off a Triumph Spitfire and changed the head gasket. The only thing he couldn’t do was set the foot-pound numbers.”

The shop is filled with exotics of every vintage. Prevost is loosening up the rusted brake drums on the Porsche.

“If you had your sight for 10 minutes, what would you do?” I ask him.

He doesn’t hesitate for a moment: “Drive!”

MOSPORT—A long line of Porsches wait their turn obediently at Mosport International Raceway. It’s a driving school day; owners will learn what their cars can do.

Aaron Prevost, 20 and blind since birth, will find out what a racetrack feels like.

He can’t see the rolling green countryside, but he can feel a light breeze that steals the promising heat from the sun.

As a mechanic, he knows how the high-performance machines work. Today, he’ll learn how that translates into the thrust of a dropped accelerator, the squeal of the tires in complex corners, and the exhilaration of a long straightaway.

Maybe Prevost can’t drive, but he can certainly be the passenger in a car racing around one of the best tracks in North America. “My boss, Bruce, warned me about G forces,” he says. “I really want to experience that.”

As if on cue, Rick Bye pulls up in a 2012 Porsche Boxster. Bye is in charge of Porsche Canada’s press fleet of cars, and he is also a long-time Porsche racer. He knows Mosport like the back of his hand.

At the track’s test pad, Bye puts the car through stop-start exercises, describing carefully to Prevost all that he’s doing. After a few tests, Bye gets out. “Aaron’s going to try it now,” he says. Prevost grins as he pops open the door.

With a reassuring hand on the wheel, Bye describes to his young student everything the car will be doing, and how it will respond. Within minutes, the kid who can’t see has the accelerator to the floor of the sports car. And quickly brings it to a full stop. They repeat the exercise several times, Prevost learning the car, Bye learning his pupil.

Bye will say later that “Aaron was a perfect student.” That’s a direct quote: Perfect. “He was keen, and he listened. He responded exactly to what I was telling him. If we’d had more time we could have done more.”

Back on pit row, the track clears for lunch. Bye stands waiting for the all-clear, while Aaron stays in the passenger seat, his hands showing him every stitch, every button, every lever. “Hey, you get a lot of stations on this radio,” he reports. It’s not idle chatter. Aaron is absorbing this car. With a wave from the official, Bye buckles in.

The Boxster roars and they’re off, alone on the track. When the car hits the back straightaway, the sweet crescendo hangs in the midday air. It returns to zoom past the pits and you can see Prevost smiling broadly. After the fifth lap, they cruise into the pits. “Tell her how many times you’ve done this,” says the kid. Considering this is his home track, Bye estimates he’s put in about 30,000 laps.

But it’s the next ones that will be a first, even for this seasoned pro. They switch seats.

Maintaining the same steady direction, Bye tells Prevost to position the steering, to get comfortable. It’s this reassuring voice that now leads the sightless driver, with Bye’s left hand lightly on the wheel.

By the second lap with Prevost behind the wheel, everyone is heading out to watch. The sound of the engine registers its location on the track, and there are only the same two questions in mind: how fast are they going to hit the straight, and how on earth are they going to negotiate Turn 5? It’s actually two turns, one after another. It’s difficult to do if you can see. It’s difficult to do if you’re a pro. But a blind kid, with no licence?

Even with a professional hand shadowing his, Aaron is placing full trust in a man he met an hour before. Maybe even more amazing, that man is doing the same thing.

It’s not until later that Bye will reveal the only slip up of the day — on the challenging Turn 5, Prevost carried too much speed. Bye simply repeated “more brake, more brake” until his student corrected without hitting the grass. Apparently, Rick Bye never once raised his voice that day.

It’s a complicated, beautiful thing to process. The Boxter returns past the stands and then sets off again, and again. When it eventually pulls in and comes to a halt in the pits, Prevost finally takes his hand from the wheel to shake the outstretched hands of the astonished pit crew.

In the crush, the quietest pair is Aaron Prevost and Rick Bye. In the midst of the power and the speed and the ballet of a racetrack, a great gift has been given — to both men.

Prevost completed five laps of Mosport International Raceway that day. He hit a top speed of 205 km/h on that famed back straight, as fast as most anyone.

Bye said later that Prevost was so attentive and responsive that the instructor actually took his own hand off the wheel several times. Prevost said later he only got a little anxious when Bye did this.

The idea that he was in complete control of the vehicle, even for a few seconds at a time, left him awestruck. The fact Bye never had to take over the steering amazed everyone else.

The kid who wants to do it all finally got to drive.

When we leave for Brantford, I ask him what he’s thinking.

“30,000 times,” he says. “Rick has been able to do that 30,000 times.”

For Bye, he recognized something far different. “We all only see the world from our place on the grid,” he said later.

“So many people only see the negative; that kid is so far up front, it’s remarkable.”

As someone who’s helped this young man in things such as wrestling, to being his captain on the goalball team, I knew this man had potential, and the above article has truly shown that.
Keep up the amazing work, and remember what I’ve always told you, and will continue to tel you and anyone that is blind.

Your blindness is not a disability, it’s apart of who you are and you can do anything you set your mind to.

and in this case, that everything now includes driving.

Popularity: 33%

Yeah ok, I had foster parents that rocked, and still rock, to this day, and tauight me the fine art of who the fuck cares about a person’s sexual orientation, race, etc.
Now, the ottawa school board wants to
add
it to the school learning experience with survey’s., asking those as young as 11, if their gay, and if I’m reading this correctly, these survey’s will impact their education.
If I read it wrong, hey, speak up.
My thoughts are this, please do be leaving the right and wrong teaching to the parents, for one simple reason.
The child(s) are going to here about racist crap from the larger world, and it’s the parents, not the school’s, responsibility to teach their kids right from wrong/
That’s all I’m saying.

Popularity: 23%

I thought I was done issuing clues to the stupid today? it’s almost 5 PM as I start this. I guess clue issuance doesn’t have office hours. Having said that, I guess stupid doesn’t either. And I take it those who issue clue don’t get sickdays? I could’ve taken one today. somewhere, one of you just asked, “Oh for fuck’s sakes, what could’ve possibly blown up now? Shane’s out of the country for Christ’s sakes!” Yeah, well of course he’s out of the country. but that doesn’t mean my family’s stupid license wasn’t revoked. Of course not. that’d be too easy. I’m digging through email again. Personal email. Translation: the address the family has. this can only end in cursing, right? Well, of course.

Over the past couple days, my mother seemed to have gotten some weed in her system, gotten the bug out of her ass, and started acting like a normal human being. she even cracked a joke in her last message about me buying her an iPhone for her 40th birthday. So you’d think that the stupid was if not gone, at least significantly curtailed, right? Excuse me while I pop your happy little bubble where everything’s perfect… Ah, there, that’s better. Incoming stupid! Duck and cover! (Note that the email address of the guilty party is not provided here for the author’s sanity and safety.)

Mon, Mar 7, 2011 at 4:08 PM
From: (My grandmother)
To: Krista Pennell

Hi Krista
Auntie called me last night and she wants to take you out to lunch for your birthday, I guess this weekend
she wants me to go too. Dad and I are happy you are coming home. Remember you can not bring Shane home
with you. I don;t want what happened for your birthday to happen. Email me back please
Love you

Now, let’s review, children, shall we?
When was Shane supposed to leave? tuesday.
When did he actually leave? Wednesday. We’ll blame Fitchburg State, the MBTA, and Greyhound for that, but that’s his deal not mine.
Who paid, more often than not, whenever we went to do something, whether it was traveling to New Hampshire to hang with friends, grab takeout because cafeteria food is meh, or go out to dinner by ourselves, without people whining they wanna go with us? that’s right, Shane did.
What did I contribute? I was able to pay for his food when his wallet walked off, give him a place to stay, and let him borrow my equipment while we waited for his to get here. (Thanks, asshole in Montreal, that was much appreciated. And asshole who jacked his wallet? Hell. Go there. now. Move). This trip was not under the niftiest of circumstances, as you well know, and as I’ve said before, we thank everyone who was able to pull it off the ground when it did go sideways.

that having been said, what the hell do I have to do to get it through people’s heads that he’s not taking advantage of me? Is my family really that overprotective, stupid, and unwilling to treat me like an adult that they’re hammering it into their own heads that he’s taking advantage of me? And how am I supposed to show them he’s not when they won’t give me the chance to? My mother, for one, complains that I don’t include him in anything. well, how do I do that when you won’t allow me to, you dumb ass? And grandmother, you know better. You of all people, know that I despise when people behave like that. You knew I didn’t want a birthday party, you knew it would’ve been too much for me to deal with. You knew I wanted Shane to meet everyone. I understand mother had a tantrum, oh my god, 2 and a half weeks ago, but that doesn’t give you the right to bring it up and throw it in my face. We’ve spoken of this before. I’ve told you I’m not going to be the old lady with 7000 cats just to make my mother happy and make her not have to, *gasp*, deal with people she may or may not like. the only person I’ve ever dated that she’s liked is cory. God forbid I date anyone else. she’s never liked anyone I’ve dated, with the exception of one guy, and that’s because his parents were filthy motherfucking rich. But he lived all the way out in Boston, and god forbid I be allowed to travel there. Oh, and he wasn’t necessarily college material either, so I guess the only reason she ever liked him was his rich family. Hell, she’s never really even liked any of my blind friends, again, with the notable exception of Cory. I know I referred in my last post to the poor guy whose family originated from Pakistan whom she ragged on so bad behind his back that I took pity on the poor kid and stopped talking to him. she never ragged on any of my other friends that bad, but when I hung around the few sighted people who would tolerate being seen with the blind girl in my early high school days, you could tell she was much happier about that. Take for example my friend Jay, who had one whole side of his face crushed by a jet-ski about 4 years back. He too, was blind. Did she ever rag on him, even if his face was scarred up all to hell? No. Did she rag on my friend who is wheelchair bound and only has partial use of one hand? No. All of these people have one thing in common, including Shane. That is that they all, somehow, look different. Hell, even I do. And we know she’s all over me constantly about my looks. So what the hell is her problem? Shane has done nothing to hurt me, nor has he done anything to her. When he met her, he was nothing but civil to her. And she didn’t give him any hell either. What seems to be the problem, now, and how the hell do I fix it? Given her previous history with friends of mine and people I’ve dated, how was I supposed to know she’d pull this on Shane? And why, suddenly, is my grandmother behaving like this? What’d I do to her? How’s he supposed to meet the rest of the family if they won’t remove their collective cranium from their rectum? Mother says she wants to see him included in things, and so do I, but how is that possible when everyone’s being stupid? How did they go from being accepting of this in November, to this attitude of disgust, now?
End brain vomit. Time to go get actual work done, now. it’s 7:35 and I’m still in an awesome mood because of that one email. Just… Meh. I hate people somedays.

Popularity: 47%

Hello all,
I’m sitting in communications class, bored out of my mind, eating ritz chips. Jordan’s running his mouth about programming. We’ve got a supply teacher in Communications class today.
Drama should be interesting.
Guess what play we’re doing for Christmas?
The grinch, of all plays!
Could they not have come up with something, shall we say, a little more interesting then the grintch? Like Come on!
We’re discussing the mac house program as I type this.
Let’s see, what else to talk about…
The Trekker in one of the courses I am taking has decided it’s not going to play nice, so the teacher that knows how to work it is trying to fix it.
In regards to Rose and myself, we’re dooing awsome.
A lot of people jokingly ask us when the wedding is going to be, grin, and we always say, you’ll find out when the time is right. grin!

Talk to yall later.

Popularity: 8%

>Hello all,
I’m sitting in communications class, bored out of my mind, eating ritz chips. Jordan’s running his mouth about programming. We’ve got a supply teacher in Communications class today.
Drama should be interesting.
Guess what play we’re doing for Christmas?
The grinch, of all plays!
Could they not have come up with something, shall we say, a little more interesting then the grintch? Like Come on!
We’re discussing the mac house program as I type this.
Let’s see, what else to talk about…
The Trekker in one of the courses I am taking has decided it’s not going to play nice, so the teacher that knows how to work it is trying to fix it.
In regards to Rose and myself, we’re dooing awsome.
A lot of people jokingly ask us when the wedding is going to be, grin, and we always say, you’ll find out when the time is right. grin!

Talk to yall later.

Popularity: 1%