Never Walked In High Heels

I’ve seen the commercials. The male announcer almost teases you with the idea that all your problems will be solved if you only buy the correct application for under a dollar. And from the stance of creative businesswoman, the App Store for the iphone is enthralling. With no overhead, a constantly changing storefront and boundless creativity, this is, without a doubt, the correct formula for the next stage of entrepreneurship for the new frontier.

If only that ‘boundless creativity’ would come in the form of faster evolution.

After all, what exactly is the use of a program which is an alarm clock on a device where one is automatically build in. Better yet, how about coming to and end of a fine dinner and being unable to calculate the tip without the help of your trusty technological companion. Or there’s always the program, that tells you about what other programs have come out and which other programs you need. (This one, much to my surprise, was not created by Apple.)

I bought an iphone in hopes to make my life as a disabled woman easier. With life in this position one is dependent on barons of industry, invention, and software to make life not simply more convenient but also simply livable. To say that my iphone has changed my life would be an understatement. But I was also one of the first people investing in voice activation all the way back in 1994, and have since thrown money at nearly every piece of assistive technology conceivable. In the case of adaptive tech hardware and software, it really doesn’t matter what sort of resources you have, if can’t be sold to the mainstream population the software will not advance.

This is how we get over 200 software developers which create alarm clocks, and no program that will actually call a London black cab. After all, my friends argue, its easy to hail a cab off the street. But figuring out what fifteen percent of your dinner bill is… that’s a real challenge.

The App Store illustrates to me that the leaders of industry are few and far between while those who have the programming skills but lack the imagination are well in abundance. It’s proof that just because there are lots of hands which can make the industry move forward, without the brains there is little guarantee of it doing so. Looking at what sells today will only show you what you should’ve been selling yesterday. And so to hop on the ‘alarm clock bandwagon’ only serves to tell you where the industry is. As with any other form of progress the market has to look to the needs of people who are not in the mainstream to figure out what comes next.

I’m one of the most non maternal women I know. Its not that I don’t like children, its just that I don’t really know what to do with them. Some many of my friends talk about how they were “born to be a mom” or are willing to manipulate their careers so that they can have children and, truth be told, I’ve never been like that. If you were to ask me to phrase my expectation of having children into a economic philosophy, it, like so many of my views, could best be described as laze fare.. If kids happen… they happen and I’ll rebuild my support system accordingly.

The problem is that as an only child, I didn’t grow up surrounded by little ones. A therapist once told my mother to never speak in baby talk around me in order to force my vocabulary to expand. While it worked to some extent, an above average vocabulary had another effect. Other children steered clear of those people who used particularly big words. So between not having siblings and not having an entourage of friends, I grew up surrounded by the language of adults.

I’ve not yet hit thirty and today I decided I do not like the language of adults. When I was young I used to long to understand every word of the grown-up world, the simple statements of my peers seeming flat and almost primitive. They just said exactly what was on their mind, without regard to cadence, alteration, or even tact for that matter. The adult way of speaking seemed so complex and exact. I couldn’t wait to hear that language my entire time.

And then I grew up myself.

Everyday, now that I’m in the grown up world, I see that it is this world that has the barbaric language which lacks imagination and beauty. Scoring high on the vocabulary sections of my entrance exams for universities, the are some leaflets I receive in my mail box which I stare at blankly trying to figure out what on earth the advertisers are trying to say in them. Or the words are unnecessarily large that just the sounds of them slice through anyone who doesn’t have a shell instead of supple skin.

“Patient’s gait is uneven and massively unstable with unpredictable movements and often staccato breathing when fatigued.” I live with the condition and I am not even sure what such an analysis actually means.

Last month I found myself visiting an old friend and her two young boys. They were squirrely and much past cleaning up after them, I had no idea what to do with them. Despite my friend’s aggravation at this fact, I didn’t particularly feel the need to learn what to do with young children. Just let the boys do want they want, and cleaning up after to make my friends life a little easier. I was clearing the table when the youngest boy climbed up on his mother’s lap and whispered in her ear. Intrigued, I looked at my friend.

“He says you walk like a dancer.”

“It is a tale told by an idiot,

Signifying nothing.”

It is a very curious phenomenon which can make a person actually question his own sanity, but ever since I entered college, I sometimes wonder if I’m losing my mind. It doesn’t happen when I’m alone, just when I’m listening to my superiors. This strange occurrence is taking hold of every sector of our lives and seem to be spreading like a virus. Soon we will be having national competitions in the amazing ability to talk for hours and say nothing. 

I recognize that due to my disability, some communication problems are evident. Despite being an award winning speaker, comedian, and a RADA trained actress, there is still the occasional idiot I run into who insists on talking to my friend rather than me. I still politely remind waitresses that they weren’t listening when they got an order wrong. And on the occasions that I bump into people who say they can’t understand me, I just bring up that it must be really annoying to only understand one language. They always understand that part. But this is not what I’m referring to.

I have heard people, at terrifyingly high levels, go into a full monologue which I can’t even begin to pull a thesis out of. This extract is from a email I received from a professor concerning a room hire:

“If you think this not large enough there is a rehaersal space ( Space 1) which could hold  70. This is free in April but having given me dates they now want to confirm on Monday what is actually available.” 

What?

OK, Beyond the basic grammatical errors, does this make any sense? A room is free in April but they need to confirm if it’s actually available. Is it free or not? If it is free, why are we waiting for confirmation? If we don’t know, why are you making it sound as if we’ve discovered something? Why can’t you just be clear and give me some information? 

It is like when you ask a friend if she liked a movie, and she says, “Well, I liked it, but I didn’t.” That actually doesn’t tell you anything because in truth she doesn’t know if she liked the movie in herself. She won’t give you a clear answer because she can’t. But to hide the fact that she doesn’t know the answer she veils herself in double talk which is, of course, impossible to decipher. Now she doesn’t look foolish, you just feel stupid. 

What makes matters more disturbing is this language schism seems to go both ways. The second I ask a direct question, a teacher stares at me blankly, and I’m wondering if I’ve slipped into Greek without meaning to. Hello? Can you hear me? Is this thing on?

“So can we rent a room or not?”

And there’s about five seconds of silence before an incomprehensible attempt at an answer.

“Well… er… as I just said…”

Really, if you don’t know the answer, just say so rather than wasting time.  When did we get to a point where we have lost nearly all capacity to communicate? So quickly we want to forget that words mean something that it feels like we have no desire to be held accountable to what we say. If it sounds like I know what I’m saying, I don’t actually have to think about it. 

When I was very little, I would listen to adults talk, sometimes getting lost in the conversation that would sashay above my head. I wondered when I’d be old enough to follow what was being said. Now I look at the students I teach and see them wondering the same thing. Sometimes I can’t help but lean over them, probably stepping way out of my bounds as a teacher, and whisper:

“Sometimes, if you can’t understand what an adult is talking about, its because the adult doesn’t know either.”