I directed, co-wrote, edited and starred in FACESPACE. So, this is my baby. It’s all of ours. I have a GREAT cast and crew to thank for making it so wonderful.

Without further ado, check out FACESPACE.

Don’t forget to like the video if you think it’s awesome and leave comments with your thoughts!

Also, check out our teaser trailer and promo at the same YouTube Channel.

Technorati Tags: web series, FACESPACE, Electric Marshmallow, trailer, release, video, television series

So, as of now, my path is uncertain. I plan to just finish this quarter and then spend the summer shooting films. From there, I’d like to see where the films go. I really am happiest on a film set. People have no idea how comfortable I am there. There is nowhere else I’d rather be. I also want to look into spending some time in L.A. just because the creative vibe there is insane.

Anyway, I did realize that this isn’t just me over-reacting. One of my peers, appearing to be good-natured seemed quite thrilled that there would be one less in the competition. His reaction to me saying I’d switch to theory was to proclaim I was a great “author” and that it was for the best anyway. Wow. Really? I’m not an author. I’m a filmmaker. I think no one completely comprehends all I do for a production, on set, with my actors and so forth, because I cannot physically put up lights, or the like, so I guess it is presumed I’m just a writer. Writing isn’t even my thing. I am a creator and an editor. I help develop the initial concept. I have a writing partner who helps put my concept to paper. She is the writer and deserves credit for that. I do everything to help mold her beautiful, spun, written word. Yes, I can and DO write, but not often and not all the time. That is why Ash and I make the perfect duo. She completes the parts of me I do not fill out and vice versa.

Needless to say, I realize I probably have more practical and guerrilla film experience having spent all last summer shooting and making my projects much longer and in-depth. Ultimately, it was just another way to degrade me, and it made him look kind of ableist instead. Most I have told about it have found it highly offensive, actually.

Right now, I have one goal – make great films. Finishing the quarter off strong will make me feel better. Then I can have surgery on June 7 and recover from it by completing three more films. This summer is looking to be worth all the trouble. So, here’s hoping it all works out.

Oh and special shout out to Dr. Richter, who is one of the few to have the “cripples can always apply to film school while I’m around” mentality. She’s super intelligent, which makes her super hot, in my opinion. So, having a super hot person being so accommodating is a good sign. It means those of us with disabilities are no longer relegated to being supported by the odd, weird fringe of society….okay well maybe she’s a little weird, but that adds to her cool factor.

Technorati Tags: life, drama, film school, wright state, trouble, disability, cripples, update

My first year, I would talk to a few different peers. “Our peers don’t get you.” They would say. “They don’t want to work with you because they think you are incapable of helping them back.” I was advised to explain to my classmates exactly how I could help them. However, I felt this wasn’t my duty. Why must I educate them? Audre Lorde writes about how the oppressed must be educators to their oppressors, but I am sick of educating everyone. These are grown ass adults. I shouldn’t have to hold their hands through seeing that I am a human being just like everyone else.

They sure knew how to contact me when they wanted something from me. They would bother with me if I had equipment they wanted to use. They could use my camera, tripod or dolly, but that was the extent of our relationship. I asked for help on a few projects, but gave up when people were always too busy, wouldn’t return my emails or flat out ignored me. I formed my own crew and stopped asking for help, at all.

Then we got a new teacher. Students started testing boundaries, some making it horrid to be in class with their distracting personalities. I talked to the teacher and thought we were on the same page. Then this person sabotaged more than one of my projects. I emailed the teacher more than once about this person and received no reply. I spoke to another teacher about them, who was upset, but it isn’t their responsibility. Finally, the student started kicking me. YES, kicking me. Every day they sat near me they kicked my wheelchair. They put their feet on me like I was a foot stool. They picked pieces off my wheelchair handlebar, as my girlfriend watched them, horrified. I am unwilling to make a scene in the class, but the teacher won’t respond to my last emails about their behavioral issues – issues I would be ashamed of in my own son if he acted that way (which he wouldn’t because he was raised better). So, I figured it wouldn’t matter if I bothered saying anything. I endured the kicking, by moving throughout class to stop it from happening. Still, the person would extend themselves further, apparently because their momma never taught them not to kick a cripple!

Then, I showed up for class and my way into the room was blocked by people. They saw me drive by the door and they remained in a spot so I could not get into the class. I sat in the hallway, alone, waiting for class to begin, hoping they would let me in. Eventually, they left so I could sneak in, but I was already upset. The teacher walked right by me and didn’t say a word, as I sat in the hallway, alone. I was in pain that day, anyway, so I focused only on my throbbing leg. I tilted back, because it relieves the pain but the lights blinded me so I had to keep my eyes closed. I wished for sleep or death or both. I’d rather be dead than in class.

I stopped saying anything to the teacher. When I did they’d snap at me. I asked a question, snap. Another student asked a question I knew an answer to that the teacher does not, snap. I feel like I cannot say anything without feeling bad about myself. I am not trying to act above anyone. I am just trying to help. This teacher makes me feel bad about myself, and bad to be alive. This teacher makes me feel like the lowest of the scum – not even human. Nobody should be forced to feel that way. I know they will say I misinterpret things but I do NOT misinterpret how I FEEL. I FEEL LIKE SCUM. THESE PEOPLE MAKE ME FEEL LIKE SCUM. I don’t need this negativity in my life.

The teacher also tells me I need things I don’t have, but I do have them. I need to be given instructions for how to do things without command keys. I type blindly because I cannot look down at the keys, so hot keys in Final Cut do not work for me, but when I try to ask or offer suggestions of other ways I am snapped at. I’m told this is the way we do things. Let’s ignore my need for disability accommodations. I have considered filing a bias-incident report. I am on the BirT committee on campus. However, I worry all it will do is piss people off and affect my grade.

Thank the Gods for Luke and the other good people in my life, who make me feel like a person. Without them who knows how low I’d sink. They find what’s going on deplorable. They understand. I am a person. I deserve to be treated as one.

I wonder if anyone other than Ash knows how much I’ve gone through – how much of this pain – how much of this hurt? I wish it would end. It just gets worse, the older I get. Who knows how I’ve managed to live with all this hate? I just wonder WHY they hate me? What did I ever do to them other than exist? I tried to be nice to them – to help them. I tried to be their friend, but they didn’t want someone like me to be their friend. I am a great friend – loyal to a fault, caring, dedicated, devoted, hard-working, fun. I have always been treated like dirt, so no one understands how much good I have to give.

It doesn’t matter because they’ve won. They’ve wanted me out for who knows how long. All the cripple-bashing through indifference has worked. It happens and I feel it, whether anyone else feels it or not should not matter. Ash tells me they are bullies. They talk about how progressive they are as filmmakers. They can be feminists, open to GLBT people, but have a cripple in their presence and they become as bad as the people who cause all those kids in school to kill themselves. The WSU MoPix majors of 2014 are the bullies. They probably do not know or even care, but they will all be glad that I am leaving – that they have run me off. Maybe one day they will realize that they make people feel awful about themselves – excluded, not a part of the group, and like less than human. Of course, I’m sure they’d find a way to blame me. I’m sure I didn’t try hard enough – blaming the victim is always the way these things go and for a cripple it’s commonplace to be blamed for it all.

Maybe one day they will realize they made a human being feel like scum – maybe one day they will care.

Until then, I will make my own films, on my own time because while they may be dicks so that I want to be kicked from the program – they cannot kick me out of filmmaking. This is what I was meant to do.

They say “It gets better”. Maybe for the gays and lesbians but not for the people with disabilities. It gets worse…we just become more equipped to handle being treated like the lowest of the low.

Technorati Tags: bully, wright state, film department, motion pictures, discrimination harassment, cripple, disability, hatred, scum, worthless, mopix, suicide

Tomorrow, this could be you. Muscular Dystrophy can strike anyone of any race, gender, age, sexuality, cultural background or religion/lack thereof at any time. You could get in an accident that leaves you paralyzed from the neck down, waist down, head down. Multiple sclerosis, cancer, lupus or some other debilitating disease could become a part of your daily life. Anything could happen.

What do those of us who live this life every day do? We live our lives and find alternative ways to do simple tasks. We reach for the moon, stars and sky. We fall in love, have families, make films, act, sing, dance, participate in sports, have jobs, homes, and lives. We get past our difficulties, but we NEVER forget our struggle. We must live with it day in and day out. We not only know the struggle to live, survive and thrive but we also know what it is like to be oppressed on a daily basis.

We are oppressed by the store clerk who feels sorry for the poor cripple. It’s such a shame that someone “so young” would be in a wheelchair. I’ve heard this since I was born with a limp and a muscle disease. Poor little Dominick – what a cutie but such a shame he will never be able to “function” like the rest of us.

We feel the sting of our peers who treat us with indifference. Let’s include the entire class in group activities BUT you. You’re cripple. You cannot get in our house anyway, so why even bother inviting you? You probably stayed home from prom, homecoming or even the birthday party of your “friends” because it was just easier to keep you from socializing with the ABs (able-bodied folks) who can navigate steps. We know they may just be ignorant and think they’re doing you a favor but the exclusion hurts. Even if we cannot come, the invitation is much appreciated. It means you want to include us, but don’t know how.

We know tomorrow you could be in a wheelchair, too but unless you already are in one, we struggle to find ways to make you understand how rejections sting. We fret and often keep our mouths shut knowing you are oblivious to the pain we endure. For me, this means I pour all my heart, soul and pain into making a beautiful film and it always turns out so much better due to the inner angst – angst only those of us with disabilities understand.

You have no idea I am a fighter. I’ve fought to live – almost dying at one point. I’ve fought to live in my community – nursing homes are common homes for many young people in my position. I’ve fought to find someone to love and accept me for who I am. She is beautiful, wonderful and my best friend. I have fought to be treated like a human being. I am still fighting for that. Every day I must and every day I hurt, at some point, simply because someone has treated me as less than human.

In spite of my disability, I make films. I filmed a web series. I am a trained singer with a beautiful voice. I have acted in films on stage, been on television, sang on the radio, rode roller coasters, had sex, had fights, felt pain, felt love, cooked meals, popped wheelies, danced in the rain, danced on the dance floor, drank alcohol, cruised for “chicks” with my dad, rode in a thunderbird, went to baseball games, hockey games, football games, played wheelchair football, kissed a girl, washed my dog, kissed a boy and felt nothing from it (to each their own!), had a water fight, rode Harleys, kicked ass at video games, got a standing ovation at karaoke, had one of the leads in my high school musical, went to the movies, went to New York, Los Angeles, Canada, Reno, Florida, Walt Disney World, Cedar Point. I’ve done so many things because my disability may be a part of me but it does not DEFINE ME. It does not DICTATE what I want to do, what I can do, or what I should do.

Tomorrow it may be you, wanting me to help you navigate through a new, strange, world of disability, but today I am alone, surviving on my own. I will survive, I will thrive, and when you need me, I may not be there to guide you. So maybe you need to reach out today, while the anchor is there, allowing you to step into my world, a world that could one day become your own.

Technorati Tags: able-bodied, disability, health, wheelchair, paralyze, tomorrow, acceptance, life, reality

Forbidden Fate started as a short film project for school. However, I knew when I was making it, after the development of the script, and the casting of Luke Wortley that this film was so much more than a school project. The cast and crew poured their hearts into it. This is a story that needs to be told. It tells the story of a man who is living a lie because he fears rejection. When someone learns the truth, all of his fears become reality. This story explores sexuality, relationships, and confronts the reality of homophobia. This topic is prevalent to today’s society. We need to see homophobia for the ugliness it is and eradicate it from civilized society.

This is where I need your help. I am raising money to make this film accessible to the public. You will be rewarded by donating. For some, it means a thank you in our credits. For others, you can be listed as a producer. Every dollar will help. Please consider making a donation, to help us get Forbidden Fate out to the public. You can find out how to donate by visiting the Indiegogo website.

Please help me. I will be forever grateful for your help. As an aspiring filmmaker, you will be helping to make my dreams come true.

Technorati Tags: Short Film, donate, raise money, indiegogo, Forbidden Fate, LGBT, film, fundraising, homophobia

Thanks to Facebook we were able to reconnect. Brian and his parents, Judy and Dennis, were three of my biggest supporters. His family loved me for who I was. They loved and accepted Dominick. They didn’t care about my past. They cared about the person I became. Sometimes I spoke to them on the phone, but not enough. I was always busy with school, filming or something else. I always figured I could call Brian tomorrow, when I had a little more time and now there is no more tomorrow.

Brian and I had similar conversations whenever we spoke. We both loved NASCAR, but for him it went beyond passion. It was a way of life. We both hated Kyle Busch. He would always say, “Dom, I hate Kyle Busch.” I would say, “me too” and he’d be happy we agreed. We both wanted Earnhardt Jr. and Tony Stewart to win races. We shared a love for video games, and he’d always ask me about the games I’d play. He was great at shooters and I sent him some games I had, because I knew he loved them so much. Every time we spoke he’d tell me he hoped I got free time to play games. He always asked about Ash and our son. He knew how important they were to me and he always hoped they were doing well. He was thoughtful, in his own way, and always wanted to know we were all healthy, safe and happy.

Brian felt isolated at home. He wanted to talk to friends more, and I wish I would have given him more time. I asked him once if he was afraid of dying and he said no. We talked sometimes about Duchenne and how so many of our friends were already dead who had the disease. I told him how I felt guilt at being alive, when so many of our friends were dead. He understood and yet he told me not to blame myself. He knew one day his time would come. He knew it would come far before the average person’s time came. I believe Brian chose to go quietly and peacefully because that was how he was. Still, his death is a shock. We knew this day would come, but we didn’t want it to be so soon.

Brian was my friend. He was just 30 years old when he died. He was someone who cared about me. He was more than just the kid with the squeaky voice. He was a person I valued as a human being. It hurts for him to be gone. It makes me mad at Duchenne all over again. It makes me want a cure. It makes me want to never hear of another boy or man dying of Duchenne again. Brian is one of the last from my generation, that I grew up with who had Duchenne. I have watched them one by one, pass away before their time. I have been the witness to their deaths and though I have seen more death than any 31 year old should see, it never gets easier.

I pray to all the Gods the pain of Judy and Dennis is lessened. I pray they can celebrate his life and how long he lived in spite of Ducheene. I want them to celebrate the guy who loved NASCAR, computer games, talking to friends, and helping his dad fix computers. I want them to celebrate the guy who loved talking about his dad’s race car and told me excitedly about going to the track. I want them to celebrate the guy who accepted who he was. He was not afraid of dying. He knew he would go before he grew old and yet he still had a smile on your face.

I will miss you Brian. I will miss our talks. I will miss calling you up and sharing things that only you could understand. I will miss getting messages on Facebook from you that always cheered me up. You were a great guy and though I am glad you went peacefully…you went your way…your loss still leaves a hole in my heart with the rest of the guys with Duchenne that have left with you. I will miss you and I will never forget you.

Technorati Tags: death, friend, sadness, RIP, Brian Helsel, Rest in Peace

Some of my friends would be lost without the internet. To them, the internet is more than just a tool they use for communication and entertainment. To some it is a lifeline to the outside world. This is especially true of people with disabilities. The internet allows us to connect with people in ways we may not be able to in our own lives. It doesn’t matter that we’re the kid who didn’t go to our prom because our peers picked on us. We have friends from all over the world online who respect us for who we are.

The internet also speaks to a new generation that has little comprehension of going outside to play all day in the summer, using their imagination to travel to far away lands or be heroes, villains or some other special person, or immersing themselves for hours in the world created by a good book. These kids cannot just stop and smell the roses, literally. They have to be doing, be going, be busy every second of their day or they are unfulfilled. The internet does this for these kids. The more isolated the child, the more they seem to crave the internet, and the more they want to reach out to total strangers for support and encouragement.

There are obvious problems with this. Strangers is the operative word. Strangers can lie. We do not know anything about strangers and yet sometimes the nice words of a stranger can compel someone to want to spend more time with these strangers. Children do not have the filters adults should have. Not all adults have these filters, either, but children, especially those with disabilities are even more vulnerable to want to find acceptance wherever it is given. The most dangerous stranger always seems to know the right thing to say, anyway.

I do not speak much about this, but our son has a terrible net addiction. It is so bad, he is banned from using any kind of technology without someone sitting next to him. This means he has no computer, cell phone, iPod with internet access, or other gadgets of his own. He couldn’t function with access. He’d become angry and violent when told to put them down to do school work or even to go with us and leave the house. He has said he’d rather have net friends than meet someone in person to be his friend. He has been hurt by his peers in person for being weird and different. He has Aspergers and Bi Polar, so he feels out of place in the world, and the net sucks him in to a place where he believes everything others say. He would do anything to talk to a stranger, even if it appears to be harmful to him.

We tried monitoring him. He would sneak into our room and steal our cell phones, check our computers in case we forgot to lock them. Every device we have has to be password protected. We realized we could not stop living our lives because he cannot handle this addiction. At the same time, we do not use these things in front of him either. He doesn’t need to be taunted or reminded, but we need cell phones in cases of an emergency. We need computers to do work and school work. We cannot stop living because of his addiction.

I have seen friends post about how they too have net addictions. Many of them have some sort of disability. I am beginning to wonder if it is a trend, but it seems more serious than a passing fad. Until I met my girlfriend, I spent a significant amount of time online. When she and I lived apart, any waking moment was spent on the phone or net connecting with her. Now that we live together I have no need to be online all the time. I can understand how the need to connect can lead to wanting to be online all the time.

Online, people cannot see you. Their first impression of you is based on what you say. It is not based on how you look. For those of us with more physically visible disabilities, we want to be seen as a person first, with our disability secondary. With the net, the disability becomes inconsequential unless it affects our ability to type. Even then, there is software that can help. For some of us, we do not even have to reveal our disability. Yet, this comes with a price. It leads us to isolation. We have trouble going out into the real world and interacting and for some of us we prefer interacting online.

When the computer shuts off, we are alone. This kind of isolation is not good. The addiction keeps us logged in as long as possible and then when it is time to disconnect we are lost. All we can think of is getting back on. As much as being on disrupts our lives, making us neglect work, school, family, and even friends, it also creates more problems for us when we are off. All we obsess over is returning to the computer. It entertains us, and provides us with happiness and satisfaction. It becomes our sole reason for being and being without it makes us angry. I understand that this is what drives my son and why he is angry about not having the internet, but he has done careless things online, because he is so trusting of others. He is so trusting because he is so desperate for acceptance. If someone says they accept him, he will believe everything they say.

Sadly, we live in a world that perpetuates this environment for people with disabilities. We live in a world where we are viewed as less. Our peers go out and have fun together. We are not invited. Perhaps it is because the fun is at a house with no wheelchair access, so to save us the pain of finding it out we’re just not included. Still, that hurts just as much as being invited and not being able to go. At least if you are invited, you know they want to include you, they just do not know how. With no invitation you are an outcast. Thus, you turn to the internet, where you can find acceptance. For the person with a disability like my son, you may not be invited because people think you act weird. The internet can partially hide your weirdness, and as such you want to go where you can be someone else. For him, he attempts to take on new personas and be something he is not.

The internet/real world dilemma for those of us with disabilities is a vicious cycle that repeats itself, and yet it is doing more harm than good. Ultimately, we as human beings need to find a way to include everyone regardless of ability. Technology should not be taking over our lives and isolating us from one another. It should be bringing us together, online and off. Please, try to reach out to those you think may be addicted to the internet. You will most likely discover they are in a much lower place than anyone thought.

As for my son, we try to integrate him in real life activities and hope he will find those who accept him, as he is. He needs that, so he can see there is so much more to life than the internet. Maybe then he can find a place where offline and online are both places he can go to find happiness without being outcast and without letting either take over his life.

Technorati Tags: Disability, addiction, net, problem, online, autism, acceptance, obsession

I don’t know Amelia. I do not even know her mother or her father, Joe. What I do know is that this adorable little girl is facing a battle that could mean life or death. She came into this world already against the odds, with a rare genetic disorder called Wolf-Hirschhorn Syndrome. One of the typical characteristics of this disorder is mental retardation. Still, when you look into the eyes of little Amelia, you see the window to her beautiful soul. It shines through her pictures. You can see her will and might – a will that has kept her alive despite odds that see many children with WHS dead before their first birthday.

Amelia needs a Kidney Transplant. She needs it within the next six months to a year or her kidneys will fail and she will die. Her parents do not want her on a transplant list. They wish to donate their kidneys instead. If they are not matches their large family is full of potential donors. One of them is bound to be a match, to keep little Amelia alive longer. She may experience life in her own little world, but it is a world full of love, no doubt. Her mother and father clearly love her very much and her mother is willing to fight to see her child live.

Unfortunately, the transplant team at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia believes that in spite of her beautiful smile and her ability to display emotion, even in pictures, this child has such a low quality of life. The only reason for this is due to her mental retardation and the brain damage characteristic of WHS. Amelia can clearly still feel and react. She is not what medical professionals deem a vegetable. She merely faces developmental delays that are characteristic of mental retardation. Apparently, this is common practice for patients with MR/DD. It is the Eugenics movement, at its best, trying to weed out those society deems unfit.

Who gives these doctors the right to determine who lives or dies? Why must her parents sit back and watch their child die in six months to a year? Is it not the responsibility of a medical professional to provide patients with medical treatment and preserve life, if they are able to? It seems to me, all Amelia needs to continue living is a transplant. These doctors are breaking their Hippocratic oath by refusing her treatment. This is disability discrimination at its best, disguised as deeming it “what is best for her”.

In a civilized society, slowly letting organs shut down, ones that can be fixed by transplants, seems barbaric. Yet, here we are in 2012 doing this to an innocent, beautiful child. It boggles my mind that these things are allowed to go on in our hospitals and yet they happen regularly.

Imagine back to 1975, when it was still legal to keep a person like me, you know – one in a wheelchair, from attending mainstream, public school. That is a little over 35 years ago. People like me, who could not walk, were deemed unfit to go to public school. Delve just 20 years back from that and people like me were still deemed unfit to live. Because we could not walk, we were believed to have a low quality of life.

Thanks to technical advances and assistive devices, people like me, with physical impairments, are doing magnificent things. Looking at all I have accomplished in my life, I wonder what would have happened to me had I still been deemed as having a low quality of life. Look at young Becky on Glee. She has Down Syndrome, a form of Mental Retardation, and yet she is a bubbly and vivacious actress! Imagine if she had believed she had a low quality of life. She would never have been able to humanize the face of Down Syndrome with the American public, much like her predecessor, Chris Burke, did in the 1980s.

Amelia deserves a chance at a future. I urge her parents not to give up. To them, I say this: I support you and many others I know do, as well. I recommend finding a new hospital, one that sees Amelia as a person and not a diagnosis, because that is what she is; a beautiful little girl, about to change the world with her story.

I urge you to check out Amelia’s picture and read her mother’s heartbreaking tale at The WHS Blog.

Update: Help Amelia’s family out by signing a petition against the decision CHOP has made. To do so: GO HERE.

Technorati Tags: Amelia, WHS, Mental Retardation, Kidney transplant, Wolf-Hirschhorn Syndrome, child, CHOP, Children’s Hospital, Philadelphia

I met Erin on Twitter a few years ago. She is known as @QueenofSpain. I liked her name instantly. A little known fact about me is that at four years old, I apparently declared myself the reincarnation of the Queen of Spain in response to my parent asking “Who do you think you are, the queen?” I had no idea then where Spain was. It was one of those eerie little kid talking about places and people they have no knowledge of kind of moments as I knew names, places, and a wealth of information about a former Queen of Spain. Regardless, I felt an immediate kinship to Erin because of this, whether she knew it or not.

After meeting on Twitter we connected on Facebook. We chatted occasionally. I had no idea she had Lupus. I learned her husband worked on films and I am studying Motion Pictures. I learned she was a reporter and she had children, one who was struggling with a potential “invisible” disability. I have a son with Aspergers, Bi Polar, and ADHD, so I could relate. I saw her many, liberal rants about politics. We share many of the same views.

As I got to know Erin I realized we shared a lot of the same beliefs – about family, a love for Detroit sports, and a rich Polish heritage. We grew up only an hour apart with long Polish last names. I am a bit younger than her, but not by much. I also learned we shared many of the same struggles. I have watched as Erin has come to need a wheelchair and understood her as I had been there myself, a decade earlier. I have read about her struggles with healthcare and having to get assistance. I have felt the political struggles she has fought online personally as we have often come from the same place, both having “disabilities” if you will, which allow for insurance and governmental abuse.

Erin struggles every day because of Lupus. Her children have had to sit by and watch her go in and out of the hospital. They have experienced so much and yet they seem to be very well adjusted, happy, caring children. In spite of her struggles with Lupus, Erin and her husband, Aaron, have raised their kids to be unique individuals. They have raised them to care about their family, but also strangers on the street. Erin has raised these children not to see themselves as better than others, but as compassionate human beings. I am proud to know Erin because of this. There are not enough kids being raised to think for themselves, to be strong and independent, but also to love their fellow (wo)man. It makes me worried for our future, with so many self-serving children being raised to believe they are better and deserve better than others.

I commend Erin for resisting the status quo. It’s hard, in a world where conforming seems the easy route, to allow our kids the freedom to be as “weird” [sic] as our kids can be. We do not want them to hurt. We want them to be able to fit in. We want them to have friends. We want them to be able to hide their differences so they are not teased for them. Erin, instead, is teaching her children to embrace their differences. She has a son with OCD and Tourettes and yet she feeds his interests in the solar system and Stephen Hawking. Her daughter has a crazy style of dressing that might not always match in conventional ways, and yet Erin encourages her to dress how she feels, often allowing her to express herself in adorably vibrant ways. These are happy children living in a time when not many children can truly experience happiness.

The reason Erin has succeeded at raising such great kids is because she herself is an ardent supporter of the people. She fights for the rights of those with disabilities and illnesses, the GLBT community, children, women, and other minorities. She supports free speech and free thought. She is not afraid to speak her mind and put bigots in their place. I read her well-thought-out rants on politics and it gets me fired up. It demands my own response. Erin experiences our joy with us and cries with us at the sadness we have endured as minorities. She truly cares, in a world where not many do anymore.

So…let it be said that I do not admire Erin because of Lupus, but in spite of Lupus. In spite of Lupus she is still living her life as a fighter for the people, as a fighter for her kids, and in the process is still fighting for herself.

To learn about Erin Kotecki Vest visit her website at: http://queenofspainblog.com/

Technorati Tags: Erin Kotecki Vest, Queen of Spain, Blog, Lupus, Admire, Blogger, politics, liberal, fighter, human rights

There is NO EXCUSE to bully…not one. Even if a child is taught that people with disabilities are less, because that is how many were treated in Biblical times, or that being gay is a sin because their church says so, that still does not give a child the right to verbally or physically harass another human being. That’s right. The person being bullied is human…just like you and me. They breathe oxygen. Their blood is red but looks blue in the veins beneath their skin. They have feelings and emotions. They feel sadness and joy, excitement and fear. Essentially, they are just like their bully physiologically; both are Homo sapiens.

If bullies remembered this, we would have no need for such legislation. We would not need to make a special law to protect children that are bullied because there would not be any bullying. The reason bullying occurs is because these bullies are often bullied themselves. They are devalued and made to feel like they are not human. They feel good by dehumanizing others…by treating them as though they are subhuman. Many of these bullies do not even consider their actions, the hurt and pain they are causing, and fail to recognize their victims are human themselves.

As much as I wish I could completely blame the government, this is where parents need to step in and teach their children how to treat other human beings. Our words and actions are often critical of others. We make fun of people without even realizing it. Look at the way we bash celebrities we cannot stand…because we do not see them as people, as humans. It is okay for us to criticize them since we do not know them. We grow up learning this as we have done the same to peers we are not able to relate to…the ones that are different. We are taught not to see them as humans…as people, like ourselves. We can torture them because we do not believe they are just like us emotionally…that they have the same kinds of feelings, themselves.

I was tortured by my peers in such a way, from the time I entered public school. In 1986, I was mainstreamed because it was the law and because I was smart. It was in this first year of school that kids all over the elementary school I attended tortured me on a daily basis. They called me a horrendous name, for a five year old. I was called “duck”. The reason behind this was my unattractive gait, a symptom of having Spinal Muscular Atrophy. While walking, my step was more a waddle, henceforth the reasoning behind calling me “duck”.

It got to the point where I could not walk down the hallway without hearing other students, from a variety of grades, quacking at me as I passed by. I would hear snickers and laughter following their quacks. To add insult to injury, I was cast as a duck in our Kindergarten play. Everyone wanted to be a bunny rabbit. I could not hop, but boy could I waddle. So, guess who was forced to be a duck? I remember crying and having to be convinced to play a duck. None of the adults could comprehend why being a duck was so upsetting to me, but then, they did not experience such harsh teasing.

It was 1987 when I first declared it was better to be dead than to live with any type of difference. What 6 year old should have to have these thoughts? Back then, my school was as guilty as my peers were. They knew the teasing and bullying was going on and yet they did nothing to stop it.

Things did not get better as the years progressed. The school attempted to force me to go ice skating, for gym, and threatened to fail me if I didn’t go. I was teased for my disability, my clothing, my family’s financial status or lack thereof, my family’s unpopularity, my weight, my hair, the way I spoke, the way I moved. I was deemed stupid, fat, ugly, nasty, pathetic, worthless, a loser, evil, a nothing. Not a day went by, in the 13 years I attended the Lake Local School system, where I was not called names, made fun of, or treated like a piece of crap.

In high school, things got worse. I was the butt of the senior joke one year. I don’t like talking about it much, but just know it involved dead rats. My doctor had me removed from the school, for my safety, as I was recovering from surgery that had almost killed me, at the time. I had just returned after missing nearly six months of my sophomore year. When nothing was done to stop the bullies, I was forced back to school. As bad as my peers were, I was equally as tortured by the administration of the school, who broke various laws pertaining to my lack of IEPs and refused to offer services to help me be independent at school, even as they accepted extra money for me to attend their school.

Raised Catholic (or Lutheran, prior) I spent much of my nights crying myself to sleep and praying for God [sic] to either change me into something better or kill me. Neither happened, and I was ready to kill myself. In the time since I managed to escape that environment and a nasty home environment, I have realized that life can get better, but it is still hard. It is a constant struggle to be different in this world. There will ALWAYS be bullies. There will ALWAYS be haters. However, as a kid, these were things I could not comprehend. Children want to see the world through rose-colored glasses. Finding out the world is not as sunny as it should be is difficult to understand.

I had no protection. I had nothing to stop my bullies. I also did not have the government backing an idea that bullies can justify their reasoning for bullying. This bill is wrong. Since the government does not appear to be willing to budge on this awful legislation it is up to parents to take matters into their own hands. Please…I beg of you. Do not let your CHILD be a bully. Do not let your CHILD devalue another human life. We are all different in our own way and that should be celebrated, not devalued. Teach your children now and help us build a better world, because the government can do nothing but seem to make it worse…for everyone.

Oh, and Michigan…shame on you. I’m glad I left. I won’t be coming back anytime soon.

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