Intermittently Awesome

In part 1 of this series, I explored why I found my local community garden inaccessible and generally unwelcoming to disabled people. Now I want to talk about what I did instead to grow some of my own food. This is my hydroponic garden. It’s not very pretty on the outside, but it’s mine.                              Hydroponics is a method of gardening that requires no land or soil. Instead, plants grow in a solution of water and dissolved minerals.  While much of the science was developed by marijuana growers who had to keep plants indoors to avoid law enforcement, hydroponic farms now produce a wide variety of crops all over the world.   NASA has even used hydroponics to grow veggies in microgravity on the International Space Station. Before I describe how I grew my garden, I want to identify the privileges that allowed me to do so.  I live in my mother’s apartment where there is space for several large shelving units. Electricity, heat, and water are included in her rent. I have i

As inflation drives up food prices and emergency COVID benefits expire, more people are looking for ways to take food production into their own hands.  For those without land or sunny windowsills, community gardens are a fantastic resource. My town has one just a few blocks from my apartment. For a small fee, I could rent a plot large enough to grow hundreds of pounds of food and potentially cut my grocery bill in half.  There’s only one problem: the garden is not accessible to me. In fact, it’s inaccessible to most disabled people.  Before you compose an angry letter on my behalf, please understand my intention isn't to call out or lead a protest against this particular garden or organization, which is why I haven’t included any identifying photos or information.  I hope to speak to the coordinator personally to address specific issues, but regardless of the outcome, I want to draw attention to the problems likely to arise at  any  community garden that doesn’t make accessibility

I haven’t updated this blog since last Thanksgiving .  I’m tempted to say that life got away from me, that I didn’t realize the blog had been inactive for so long. I’m tempted to claim I was busy with other things and didn’t have the time or energy to devote to it. But the truth is more complicated.  The blog was never abandoned or forgotten. I devoted time to it every day. This draft was always open on my laptop or phone. I'm keenly aware of how long it's been a work in progress. In the past, a piece like this would have taken me an hour to complete. But what you're about to read took a year to write, and it's taken me much longer to understand why writing has become such a struggle. Writing is not one activity but many. When I was a full-time writer, editor, and English professor, my livelihood depended on my ability to do a number of tasks simultaneously.  I had to to be awake and fully engaged. I had to type on a keyboard and read from multiple pages and screens. I

As Thanksgiving Day approaches in the US, my social media feed offers a cornucopia of memes and messages about the importance of giving thanks all year round.  While the holiday itself is extremely problematic , it’s hard to find fault with practicing gratitude. Studies suggest that meditating on a few things we're grateful for each day can help increase optimism and self-esteem.  Celebrating a bountiful harvest reminds us what is possible with hard work and long-term planning. We cultivate better relationships when we acknowledge all that our co-workers, friends, and loved ones do for us and return the favor. If we pinpoint the good things in our lives, however small, we're less likely to fall into despair or catastrophic thinking. By focusing on the positive, we're better equipped to cope with the occasional negative. But what happens when gratitude ceases to be a means of healing and growth and becomes a tool of oppression? What if the people who encourage us to count o

Last month, I posted my review of The Actual Star by Monica Byrne. I had the pleasure of working with the author as a disability consultant, a job that was completely new to me that I hope to do again.  Recently, Monica took time out of her busy schedule to chat with me about disability as it relates to her life and work.  Monica Byrne grew up in Annville, Pennsylvania, as the youngest child of two theologians. She studied biochemistry at Wellesley, NASA, and MIT before moving to Durham, North Carolina, to pursue her career in fiction and theatre.  Her debut novel, The Girl in the Road , won the 2015 Otherwise Award. Her plays, What Every Girl Should Know , Tarantino's Yellow Speedo , and Ohio! , have been performed around the world.  She gave the first ever science fictional TED talk in Vancouver and hosted a film series on technology for ViceUK . Her essays have appeared in The Atlantic , Wired , and The Washington Post , while all of her previously published short stories are

Today, I'm celebrating the release of Monica Byrne’s novel, The Actual Star. Before I share my review, I have to admit I’m a bit biased. Novelist, playwright, activist, and futurist Monica Byrne  is a dear friend. A year ahead of me at our small Catholic high school in central Pennsylvania, she was essentially the person I wanted to be when I grew up.  For several years, I've been a supporter of Monica's work through Patreon . Rather than simply buying a book after it’s published, patrons send a small amount of money each month to support the author directly at every stage of project development. In return, we get a behind-the-scenes look at the entire creative process.  When Monica was writing about a society in the distant future, she wanted groups who are often ignored or excluded today to be more accurately represented tomorrow. I was one of many expert readers she hired for that purpose.  I’ll say more about my work as a disability consultant in future posts, but I hav