awesome disability/divergent-embodiment things:

[shehasathree]

http://star-anise.tumblr.com/post/129610156974/c-is-for-circinate-so-hey-disabled-version-of
c_is_for_circinate 

So hey

Disabled version of Cinderella where the prince is entirely faceblind, and Cinderella has a musculoskeletal condition where her mobility could be seriously improved by custom orthotics.  Which of course she never had until the fairy godmother made them for her, which explains why her entire gait and posture changed at the ball and her stepmother/sisters never recognized her.

After that, well, the shoe-fitting is just efficient.

http://star-anise.tumblr.com/post/129609861769/dyspraxia-gothic

weird-mcgee

 

• You choke on water. You choke on air. Your friends ignore you choking. Things are always going down the wrong way. You’re not sure there was ever a right way.
• The bruises appear mysteriously. Sometimes you wake up to a constellation that wasn’t there yesterday (or maybe it was; there are always bruises somewhere).
• “If you keep practising, you’ll get better at it,” they say about football, about netball, about volleyball, about basketball, about baseball. You wonder how many people they’ve lied to before. You keep practising. 
• The words won’t come out, or they come out wrong. You have the sentence in your head but something else controls your mouth, something unknown. 
• You could do it yesterday. You might be able to do it tomorrow. You cannot do it today. 
• All you want is a routine. All you have is a fear of the things you’ve left undone. Nothing fits. 
• There are things you’ve left undone, aren’t there? You think you might have written them down somewhere. Someone saw you write them down. When the things are left undone, they will come for you.
• Your hands have betrayed you again. 
• Your muscles do not talk to each other about anything except for pain. 
• Do this, then that. Do this, then that. Clothes off, then shower. Shirt on, then coat. You know the rationale behind these things but the rationale is not enough. It is never enough. 
• The doctor asks, “What did you trip over?”. You do not know. You did not see. Maybe it was the eternal shadows that haunt the corners of your vision. Maybe it was your own feet. 
• Everything is too loud. Everything is too bright. Everything feels too rough. You scream until you can leave either this place or your body.
• The form asks what support you require. You do not know. You’ve never had it.

http://timetolisten.blogspot.com.au/2015/09/movement-teachers-i-am-your-dream.html

NeurodivergentK/kassiane:

Movement teachers: on the surface I am your dream student.

I'll walk in. You'll show me basics. Or have someone show me basics. They will do them at the same time I do, so I can exactly follow. I'm echopraxic, you see. If I have someone to exactly follow? I can do that. I can make my body do exactly what they do--or as close to exactly as different builds allow.

You will probably think that I am talented. I probably am not. I am echopraxic and I have a big library of movement to draw from. So as long as I have someone to follow I can look comfortable with the things.

You may be tempted to skip steps. You may forget there's things I haven't learned. I know how to do a lot of things with my body because of years of dance, gymnastics, & team sports. This is why I can give you the impression I have an aptitude: because if it is on the ground or in the air I have probably done something similar. I've done gymnastics. I've spun a flag & marched at the same time. I've done some ridiculous number of styles of dance. I've played basketball on feet and on wheels. Whatever you're showing me, I'm sure to have a bit of muscle memory that relates enough that I can copy you or more advanced people.

Here's where I'm your nightmare:

I can only copy for a substantial amount of time.

Comments

[davidgillon]

All you want is a routine. All you have is a fear of the things you’ve left undone. Nothing fits.

There are things you’ve left undone, aren’t there? You think you might have written them down somewhere. Someone saw you write them down. When the things are left undone, they will come for you.

Oh my, this. This is my life.

[lilysea]

The dyspraxia gothic! I relate to ALL OF IT.

*literally chokes on my own saliva when I'm not paying attention/am too tired*

[vass]

That last one: I'd somehow forgotten that the autistic kid who climbs everywhere is a Thing. I mean, it was even in What's Eating Gilbert Grape.

I climbed up the sides of trams (on the inside) in Indonesia when I was two. In primary school I did all sorts of things on the monkeybars that I wasn't supposed to do. And my favourite cubbyhouse was the cupboard above my bedroom closet. It was a normal-height build-in closet with shelves on the inside wall and a cupboard above it up against the (high) ceiling, and I would open the closet door, climb up the shelves, open the cupboard, climb in, close the closet, then close the cupboard doors, and then no one would know I was in there. I had a sheepskin mat and some drawings on the walls and a torch, and I took my horse books and school stories up there.

And then I hit puberty, and my strength to weight ratio went away. :( I was too tall for the cubby anyway, but I tried to climb trees and read up there, and it just wasn't fun any more.

I'm starting to wonder, based on that post, if I'm echopraxic for singing. My coordination isn't bad, but my motor planning is crap, and I'm a horrible kinaesthetic learner. But (for vocal technique) I learn best by imitating the sound of someone doing it right, and it's really easy for me to start doing it wrong by listening to someone else. This is one of the reasons I hate large choirs, and shouting crowds. I can get hoarse in those environments even if I'm completely silent. My first singing teacher at uni hooked into that: she told me to listen to recordings of people who had good technique plus voices like mine.