I've been writing for as long as I can remember. I have poems and diaries that date back to when I was as young as 8 years old. Writing has always been my outlet. Even though I was part of the "Forgotten Generation" of hearing impaired children, (the ones who were taught to be mainstreamed then over looked and forgotten about as if we had no disability) It was always in the back of my mind, and sometimes it would show up in some of my earliest writings.
One of the older poems I still have, dates back to October 1986. I was 9 years old.
Alone beneath the beam of the sun
and the rays of light
There was no way to tell how I felt so alone.
I can remember witting that poem as if it was yesterday. I remember how the sun was shining so beautiful that day and I can still smell my mother cooking dinner. I remember it more because of the weirdness I felt. It was the first time anyone had ever called me a name because of my hearing impairment. The girl called me a "Deaf Mule". Hey, we were 9. She didn't even know what it meant. I'm sure she meant to call me a Deaf Mute. How crazy is that.
Heres an interesting diary entry. I was 11.
July 7, 1989
If I had just three wishes:
#1. That I could hear like others
#2. I could have 3 boyfriends
#3. I could have magical powers
You know what though? At 31 those still sound like pretty good wishes....lol ;)
The best way I can think to sum the blog up is with one of my favorite quotes.
"Facts are stubborn things; and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passions, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence." ~ John Adams
2 days ago