Growing a beard…

After getting my haircut last Wednesday, I felt there was still something missing from my new suave and sophisticated look. I’ve got the glasses (I need to start remembering to wear them) if I’m going for the cute nerd look. However, I’m fed up of constantly looking like a choirboy. How can people respect you if you look like you haven’t been through puberty? So I concluded that a bit of facial hair might help the situation and make me look rugged. I’m not talking full beard but more designer stubble because that’s what all the cool kids do. It’s been less than a week but already it’s starting to take shape and I definitely feel more manly.

I tried to upload the pictures directly on here but I don’t know how to get my photos off Instagram (I’m new to it) so here is the link if anyone is interested in monitoring how much it grows everyday: http://instagram.com/goonerglen1

5 days growth don’t sound a lot but for someone who is used to shaving all the time otherwise they feel dirty, this is landmark territory. It is starting to get a tad annoying but I think the rugged look will be worth it.

My ill-mannered friend decided to write a little message at the end of this post but I have slightly tweaked it.  He wanted to embarrass me by telling everyone his beard is far superior to mine and the most frustrating thing is that he did his by accident after leaving his shaving gear down at University. The thing is he has had the entire Christmas break to grow it and he still looks like an unwashed vagrant. Not forgetting that its ginger.  Looks like I’ll be getting all the women while he’ll be getting all the flies. ‘Wheelchair Boy’ has the last laugh… yet again.

Bye for now!

Internal monologue…

I have a voice in my head. To clarify, it’s not a devil feeding me dark thoughts but more of a narrator commentating on my life. The monologue tends to switch depending on what situation I’m in.

Sometimes it’s a Danny Dyer esque bloke taking the mick out of me for “making a right mug out of myself” when I’m chatting to women. Like the other day, a girl I haven’t seen in ages asked me “what I was doing job wise?” I panic when I hear that question because being a full time ‘Wheelchair Boy’ doesn’t seem to cut it as a profession. Without hesitation, I replied, “writing 2 novels”. Danny (as I’ll call him) chirped up. “What did you say that for you idiot? You haven’t even read 2 novels, let alone writing some”. Goes some way to explaining why I lack self-belief.

Other times it’s a girl bigging me up and giving me compliments. I’ll christen her Lauren for story telling purposes. An example of when the beautiful (I imagine) Lauren speaks to me is when I look in the mirror after styling my hair.  She tells me “how sexy I look” and that “I would get it”. Talk about a confidence boost but unfortunately that only lasts for 5 minutes. Where is Lauren when I’m chatting to girls and need to be less insecure about my appearance?

Hands up if that short post made me sound mental. Well I’m not… yet so cancel the police. I don’t need sectioning. I posted about the narrator in my head just in case other people have an internal monologue. At least you know now you’re not alone. Also, I thought everyone might be amused because it’s a ludicrous concept. The final reason for this random blog is because I couldn’t think of anything decent to write about.  Better than nothing, right?

Bye for now!

This week…

I went on Twitter this afternoon to see what’s going on in the world. I saw that the fame hungry moron that is Katie Hopkins, who has made many ridiculous and controversial comments before including the fact that she hates geographical child names eventhough her daughter is called India, was trending. I clicked on her name to see why and read an article, instructing me to watch This Week from last night (Thursday) to see some terrible views on disabled people who get benefits. I urge you all to do the same: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b03pml84/This_Week_09_01_2014/

I am strongly against hitting women but Katie Hopkin’s face is so punchable. I don’t know if the Sun columnist (says all you need to know about her)

is acting up to the cameras or genuinely believes all the bile that spews from her mouth. Either way, the controversial remarks she made last night were very hateful and reinforced my theory that if people like her ran the country; they’d kill off all disabled people. One of her most outrageous points was “We have to take a much firmer line on people who are on disability benefits”. That is clearly the voice of someone who is ignorant and probably hasn’t met a disabled person in their life.

Yes, as you have all guessed, I am on benefits. It’s a need though, not a want. In fact, I’ve worked out getting a 9-5 job would be better financially so the majority (there are exceptions like all things) of people would never choose a life on the doll. I know that from the outside, there are people who see me as a lazy scrounger and don’t understand my disability prevents me from getting a normal job. I find it a struggle to get through the day, let alone working on top of that. The fact that small-minded idiots like Katie Hopkins need to grasp is that being disabled is not a lifestyle choice. At the age of 9 (when I was diagnosed with FA), I did not suddenly turn around and say “I want to be a full-time Wheelchair Boy when I’m older”.

Speaking of weeks, when I said I’d blog every day, I meant Monday-Friday because my weekends consist of football, football and more football (either live or on the T.V.). I occasionally like to paint the town red so probably wouldn’t get time to post.

Bye for now!

Not suitable…

Just before Christmas, I signed up to take part in a drug trial for patients who suffer from Friedreich’s Ataxia. The study is part of on-going research into the affect that Vitamin B3 has on people with FA (read more here if you’re interested: http://www3.imperial.ac.uk/newsandeventspggrp/imperialcollege/newssummary/news_14-6-2013-16-49-16). I thought I’d give it a try because bringing the symptoms under control so that I didn’t deteriorate anymore would be great and vitamin B is a supplement that can be purchased over the counter so it should be safe. Yet after answering a few questions, the doctor had a few concerns regarding my recent heart problems and a slight tendency I have to choke.

In a way, I was sort of relieved that I wasn’t allowed to be involved in the trial because I can’t be bothered to travel to Hammersmith every week for tests. However, the other side of me was annoyed because the worst part of my condition is the gradual deterioration so freezing the FA in its tracks would be brilliant. I shouldn’t get ahead of myself though because the findings haven’t proved conclusive so far and vitamin B3 might not even help. Anyway, I’m going to have a few tests so I may end up as a human guinea pig after all.

The funny thing (to me anyway) is that the doctor sort of implied I was too disabled to take part but I am used to being told the opposite. What I am referring to is a Boccia (like bowls but sitting down) tournament I attended a few years ago. I’m pretty sure it was somewhere in the Midlands but I can’t remember exactly. Anyway, my mum and I travelled up the night before and stayed in a hotel around the corner. When I went to register in the morning, I was told in no uncertain terms that I was “too able to compete”.

You heard it right. I wasn’t disabled enough eventhough I couldn’t walk and my arms were shaky, meaning I can’t throw a ball like an ordinary person. For the first time ever, someone (me) was upset and angry being told he WASN’T disabled enough. It was the wasted journey that annoyed me the most. No one wants to be in the Midlands at the best of times, let away when you’re turned away from a sporting tournament (that’s a joke if you live in the Midlands. Don’t take offence!) and have to drive home. The people running that completion were clearly morons.

Bye for now! 

Fresh….

To go with the 'new me' that I've been banging on about for the past couple of days, I decided to go and get a haircut (at a salon) as a metaphor that I mean business! It's the same style as I normally have but there is something about a fresh trim that makes me feel cool and sexy. It certainly helps with my confidence.

Eventhough I hate taking photos of my ugly mug, I have took two so you can see if you like my trendy look:

Pretty much look the same…just angrier!

This is a better angle…short on the side!

And just in case you weren't questioning my sexuality enough already, I brought a new JLS poster for my room. Enjoy!

Still absolutely gutted they split :(

Bye for now!

Is it me you’re looking for?

I was listening to some toe tappers (the irony is that I struggle to move my toes) from the 1980s the other day and came across the video for Hello by Lionel Richie (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDZcqBgCS74). I’ve heard this song many times before but didn’t realise that the song is about an able bodied person falling in love with a blind person (let’s ignore the fact a male teacher is coming on to a student. It was the 80s so what do you expect?). It got me thinking about how I never get an able bodied girl falling for me. Normally, I get annoyed about how most women can’t see past my disability but I’ve realised it’s my fault I’m single.

Not just because I have a filthy sense of humour and come across as a bit of a perv but as a few people have noted, my insecurities are my biggest problem when it comes to my love life. There is not a single part of my body that I like and I’m always worried about my appearance, even when I go down the gym. A fear of judgement, started at school, which extends to my voice and even things I say. I am scared of speaking in case I say something foolish or not funny. That can be attributed to the whole ‘lad’ culture at school where any mistake would be jumped on.

As Gok Wan says, “it’s all about the confidence” and I need to address that issue if I’m going to lead my life to the full. I don’t want to be held back by a lack of self-belief and constantly go red everytime I say ‘Hello’ to a girl. I need to stop worrying about what others think and start being myself. If I’m being honest, the real ‘Wheelchair Boy’ is rarely seen, especially when I’m out. This sounds absurd but sometimes it’s like I am in a film playing a character, doing and saying what other people want to see/hear. That’s got to change because I think people would like the actual me.

A lot of my complaints in the past have been about people being patronising and not getting to know me. While many are ignorant that I am a human being after all, one of the reasons I’m treated differently is probably because I make out I am ‘special’. The random clapping and singing probably doesn’t help me seem normal but I find it funny. I’m no psychologist but I reckon I play up because I oddly want to scare people off. It’s not that I have a cold heart, it’s just I’m very closed off feelings wise and I’m reluctant to let anyone in.

Bye for now!

It’s 2014…

Welcome back to ‘The Adventures of Wheelchair Boy’ (#TAWB) and the first post of the New Year following a two-week festive break. I hope that all my readers, new and old, had a great Christmas (like me) and a brilliant New Year (unlike me). I am such a good boy so, as is always the case, Santa was extremely kind to me and brought me loads of presents. My birthday or ‘Glen day’ as I have decided to call the 30^th December was also great as I said goodbye to being a teenager and hello to being 20.

Then came the day I’m not really a fan of. It’s a little celebration called New Year’s Eve. Every turn of the year, I should be grateful that I am still alive but instead I end up getting depressed because I think about noteworthy achievements in the previous 12 months. Considering I dropped out of University and became even more of a reclusive loser than I was before, I counted none. So, to distract myself from reflecting upon a mediocre year (the holiday in Spain was the highlight), I planned to go out and party. However, I had yet another cold so didn’t have the energy to go clubbing.

The only positive about a quiet night in was it allowed me to sure up some resolutions for 2014. I know it’s cliché but when Big Ben chimed at midnight, I thought to myself “New Year, New Me”. Most probably won’t happen but I’ve set myself various targets, from getting a girlfriend (I say this every year) to writing a book on my father’s life to getting fit and losing weight. My ambitious list doesn’t stop there and at the moment, I feel quite positive about achieving them all. Whether that is wishful thinking I am not too sure.

One resolution is to do with this blog. I sort of went off the boil towards the end of last year and I want to be more in touch with you, my beloved reader. As a result, I vow to post every day of the week but if I’m busy and don’t have time; it will just be a picture/video/link with a line or two of text. I also want to get readers involved by having more guest posts (I’ve only had 2 so far). Please get in touch if you’re interested.

Bye for now!