Because learning how to help disabled people should be free.
Are there really FREE disabled access courses out there? Yes. Please read on!
First, if you are debating whether or not you should pay for this, visit this site for the least expensive pay site that I have found anywhere. Currently this site appears to cost $10 ten dollars less that others online.
Continuing on, here below is why I started this blog and the links to Free courses for your use:
Ever since it became a necessary for California Architects to have five hours of disabled access coursework in continuing education, I had wanted to find out if there is really free classes available for us to take. Looking at the renewal application, It looks like we have to take 5 hours of course work related to ADA, in other words disabled access. Looking around the internet, even though there are a…
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monday is a day of long black tears
with heart torn and heavily bruised.
where i wonder again why didn’t i kill myself
so long ago, before i had met you.
only the simple joy of folding laundry
can save my life now.
why can’t i say goodbye to those
who go away, without remorse?
as a preteen i lost my mother
i should have just ended it all
way back then. for now i still have
the monumental pain of losing you.
moonday morning, bleak white sky
of winter. i only need to find
my direction again. a reason
to live again. without you in my life.
for now i am at a loss
with no reason to get up in the morning
and little hope of finding work.
and i wonder what i am to do with myself.
for what is my true reason for living?
how can i pull myself together and
find a way to make a new life?
it seems now all i can do is paint and sigh.
why? did i have to pin my heart on you.
no one should ever hang their reason for living
on the life and love of a lover, and yet
that is exactly what i made the mistake of doing.
i must refocus my heart to
the broadest face of humanity.
and live for strangers as well as
dear lovers and ancestors.
yet i will still long always
for the warmth of your
soft touch, and your sweat singing
salty on my skin in the night.
I think I just found my new phone. why wait for an iPhone that is 4G? I need a new phone now!
My self destructive tendencies seem to be mostly aligned with my need for self medication. If it were not for coffee, herb and alcohol I would probably be fine on my prescription of zoloft and oestrogen. Still, I love to smoke so much that I do it greedily. I smoke on and on until I run out. I smoke far more than is necessary to get proper effect in most instances. Herb is so expensive I all too often drink alcohol at the same time to prolong the effect. The problem with that is the following additional damage to my liver, and the effect that I become lethargic and I want to lie down or sleep.
The problem is I don’t feel up to the challenge of quitting drinking alcohol entirely anymore. I have in the past. Now, it is harder to see the advantage of the sobriety. Perhaps if I was successful at sobriety I could again enlighten myself to a better way of being, but for now i cannot see it. There once was a time when I was totally sober for a good 6 months here and 3 months there. By the end of each of these periods I would be eager to rejoin the rest of society with social drinking or smoking. Typically these bouts were urged along by eating 4g or so of psyilocyben and seeing in stark relief that damage that addiction or even casual use was doing to my life, my body, my mind and I would have my mind changed with a resoluteness would have been very difficult in a conventional state of mind.
This makes me think; Why do I always want to smell my finger after finger-fucking my ass. It must be some primordial response to want to know what your shit smells like so that you can tell it apart from the herd or your mates. I wonder if humans smelled each other like dogs, would we get a quicker or more accurate rendering of other people?
My boobs hurt enough from my second puberty of progesterone and estrogen stimulated development I should think that that would be enough pain for me to undergo. The mental anguish of my incongruent genitalia and masculine brow and chin is a feeble excuse for needing to dull the pain by abusing drugs. It is harmful to my body, it is expensive, and perhaps worst of all it robs me of the energy and concentration I could have to put into other productive endeavors. In classic abuser style, one of my best friends has similar abuse problems. My spouse also has issues and genetic lineage with an alcohol soaked past. I know how to quit from previous experience freeing myself from tobacco.
When will I find a way to clean experience? I believe that I must find a power of belief to stop. I must really want to stop. I must really bring myself to despise smoking and drinking.
It is generally easier for me to quit drinking, I may have the genes for it but I can bee much more lively without it. Herb is far more preferable to me, and there are times where it can allow my mind to move in interesting ways. However, as Terence McKenna said herb is far overused in our society. It should really only be used ever week or two. This way you get the best effect, and allow the previous dose to fade from your system. I on the other hand am in the habit of smoking several times a day. This seems to be a most self destructive habit, and yet I find myself succumbing without much of a fight to abstain. May the purer of my thoughts plant seed and flourish, I pray to myself.
I have noticed my gender identity din’t really fit with my sociatal norms arounds puberty. This was a point where, instead of people saying,
“who’s that fat kid over there,” ey would say:
“Is that a girl or a boy?”
Later, they mostly just assumed whatever they wanted.
I was given an androgynous name at birth. By this trait, when I changed high schools in freshman year my peers at my new school were at odds with how to appraise my gender. I wound up making the most lasting friendships with others that in some way were not easily categorizable, or others that were interested in me because I peaked eir curiosity.
As a child, many of the toys I like were “construction” oriented. Construction type toys such as blocks are given to be categorized as male in our society, and as such were consider gender appropriate to my assigned sex of male. I also had an inordinate fondness for stuffed animal toys as a child, and played with an Israeli girl whose father shared an interest in chess with my father. When we would play together, it was only following the taunts of other children that I ever considered that my gender expression was anything other than normal.
I began to deeply examine gender and its component parts during a period of time transitioning from living as a male to living as a female. Reading the book “Whipping Girl” by Julia Serrano it became clear to me through her biological analytical perspective that each discrete trait could be assigned a gender, and that gender was arbitrary from society to society. I concurrently read “Gender Outlaw” by Kate Bornstein, which suggesed one use what ever gender best suited the needs of the momest, to oversimplfy it.
Every trait that could be defined, and when assigned to every society there is, shows no trait is patently female or male.
Therefor, while my gender may not conform exactly to the society in which I live or any other society, it is my unique identity. My traits are just my traits, and they do not derive from gender. My gender is just a tool for people to try and define me so that they make presume many modes of interaction and aspects of character; it is for convenience of thought only and should not be used as a true description. Gender may suggest typical commonalities, but gender cannot define that person.
I live a contemplative life. I journal. I’ve kept a sketch book since I was 17. I have a phd therapist. I also have an attending MD for anti- anxiety meds. I’m a functional alcoholic, with a strong taste for hops and tequila. I have a strange and compulsive mental addiction to cannibis flowers. I’m chronically depressed and gender dysphoric. Gender exhausts me. All gender feels like performance, but when I cross the line from my given gender I feel strangly free. All of a sudden I am comfortable enough to be myself. I read recently that someone felt like being a girl was fake, and being a boy was fake too but felt more comfortable. After having officially switched my gender from feminine man to average to slightly butch woman, I realize that taking that jump was necessary to really going all the way to being free to express myself no matter how I may feel. I would not conform to anyone’s stereotype.