To be, or not to be...

Listening to: 'Valerie' by The Zutons [Tired of Hanging Around]

The Goo Goo Dolls did a gig at the Cambridge Corn Exchange last night. It's quite surprising how many good rock bands actually play here, considering what a small place this is. I guess the student population makes it worthwhile. But yeah, there was a spare ticket...I could've gone. I've never seen anyone play live before, unless of course you count the time I saw Jason Donovan in Joseph - man I used to love him (yeah I know, I was young and foolish). LOL I remember 'practising' my scream, for when he appeared on stage...hey, I was nine, what do you expect?! My poor darling father paid a lot of money for that birthday present.

Anyway, I digress. Like I said, I could've gone. The ticket wouldn't have been too expensive either. However, I had to decline on medical grounds. Yeah I can tell you're confused. I think I've alluded to my condition in a previous post, but I've never explicitly explained it in BlogWorld. I'm not sure why, but it's possibly because I'm trying to maintain that I'm more than just the sum of my imperfections. Nevertheless, I feel I should be less vague about what is undoubtedly a major part of my life, so here I am (this isn't supposed to sound dramatic by the way, so I apologise if it does)...

When I was eleven years old, I was diagnosed with a condition called scoliosis, which basically means that my spine is an "S" shape instead of being straight, and my rib cage is twisted. I had corrective surgery when I was 12, where a stainless steel rod (about a foot in length) was inserted and clipped to my spine. Because the curvature was quite severe, the correction wasn't absolute, so my spine's still a bit curvy and my rib cage is still twisted. [Useless piece of info: Melanie Blatt of All Saints also has scoliosis]

So what does this mean in the long term? Well, almost nothing. Externally I look mostly normal, maybe like someone with bad posture. I don't have pain, and my scar is just a straight line down my back, which isn't too ugly to look at. On a personal level, there are some limitations. I can bend from my hips and knees, but not from my waist. My heart and lungs have less room to expand (due to the twisted rib cage) so I get short of breath very quickly. If I fall (or bend from the waist), the clips that fasten the rod to my spine might break, and I'll be paralysed. Hence any kind of competitive sport is out of the question; same with crowds (hence the 'no' to the concert invite). Oh and I'm not supposed to carry heavy things because of the strain on the spine. Finally, when I look in the mirror, I look like halves of two different people stuck together...which can be quite frustrating when I'm in a vain mood...but that's more a case of low self esteem than anything else. Thankfully clothing covers my sins.

In one respect, I'm really lucky. I have a condition that has been largely corrected, and I can live an almost-normal daily life. Compared to people who have more severe mobility issues, I'm cruising. As long as I don't go near a big magnet, I'm fine. Oh and by the way, airport security hasn't detected the rod as yet.

On the other hand, I'm slightly 'disadvantaged' (although that seems like the wrong word in this context). Because people (including, and especially, my friends) can't see my condition, they forget that it exists. They forget/don't know about the limitations that I just mentioned. They don't seem to realise that I can't do things like a 'normal' person. They forget that sometimes, I need help. Any complaint on my part gets the response "oh she's whinging again, bloody attention seeker" or "if it's such a big issue, why did she come in the first place?" and I can see that my presence is a burden. Sometimes I think it would be different if I was pretty, but that's another discussion altogether.

So what am I? Am I disabled or not (see, this is where the title ties in, kinda)? According to the UK Disability Discrimination Act, I'm disabled if my condition has a 'substantial and long-term adverse effect on my ability to carry out normal day-to-day activities'...does having to stop half way up every small hill 'cos I'm out of breath count? I don't think so either. So legally, I'm not disabled. But since of late, I find my actions more and more restricted due to my condition. Or it may be that I'm trying to be more ambitious and then getting upset when I realise I can't do what I want to. If I'm not disabled, I should be able to do anything I want to, and anything anyone else does...but I can't. So, I ask you again, what am I? Call me a scientist, but I don't like being in a grey area where I can't be defined. I want to know where I stand. Our department's safety session is on Monday - do I tell the Safety Officer that I have 'disabilities'? Are they disabilities in the traditional sense? Do I have a legitimate place at the bottom-end of the disability hierarchy, or am I really just an attention seeker?

I'm generally of the opinion that one shouldn't get into a situation where they are a burden to others. Others shouldn't have to suffer for my sake. But does that mean that I can never go on a group holiday ever again? Does that mean that I can never go to a concert, even if I'm given a ticket? Does that mean that I should never engage in physical exercise (e.g. walking) in case I fall and someone has to take me to hospital? Suddenly something that was initially a very mild disability has turned into a huge deal. Suddenly I feel like I don't belong in the world of the 'physically perfect', and that I should 'stick with my own kind' (i.e. those with reduced mobility). Suddenly, I don't fit in.

Please understand, I'm not looking for sympathy. My condition is just 'one of those things'. The purpose of this post is not to make you feel sorry for me. I'm not ignorant to the fact that there are many of you reading this who have your own imperfections. How do you deal with it?

Elitism, Discrimination and the Curse of Cambridge...

Listening to: 'En Aranjuez Con Tu Amor' by Il Divo [Ancora]

...or "why I don't like to say I'm from Cambridge".

Let me start with a (few) disclaimer(s): I am in no way trying to rub it in your face. I do not think I'm better than you. I do not think that I'm the most privileged individual in the room. I am not some kind of alien who can't carry on a non-intellectual conversation. The fact that I'm a female engineer at Cambridge does not make me a freak.

Now let me ask you a question: do you believe me? Nah, didn't think so. And that, in my opinion, is where the problem lies. Stephen Fry, one of Cambridge's prominent alumni, said this last year:

The best thing about having gone to Cambridge University was never having to deal with not going there.

And essentially, I think that's what's happened. A kind of 'sour grapes' attitude adopted by some unsuccessful applicants has helped immortalise the 'Cambridge Elite' - something that (in my experience) hasn't existed for quite a while. On one hand, the university is trying its level best to appear more accessible to 'target' audiences - ethnic minorities, state schools, kids from broken homes. In the other corner, Cambridge graduates get the following reception when they go out into the 'big bad world' (these are things my friends have been told) -

"...is it because you're intellectually superior?"
"You're doing quite well at being approachable for someone from Cambridge."

And then of course there's the alpha female syndrome. Let me explain:

1. Go to party with no other Cambridge people present
2. Get introduced to Random Guy
3. Random Guy asks you where you're studying
4. You say 'Cambridge'
5. Random Guy's jaw drops - OR - Random Guy makes some sarcastic comment to prove that he's not intimidated (see that's just not convincing enough to me)
6. Random Guy conveniently finds a way to leave, with you standing by yourself looking like a mutt who can't carry on a conversation

Oh I'm sorry, did you get upset by the fact that I have a higher IQ than Britney Spears? D'oh.

And that's not all. Yesterday I learned the workings of Research Councils in the UK, and how universities get money for research. Bottom line: if the project is from Cambridge, it won't get any funding 'cos "otherwise the other universities will complain that the councils favour Cambridge". I'm sorry, what? What happened to Research Councils rewarding the most worthy projects? What happened to Research Councils aiding research??? I'm disillusioned already. I thought I avoided industry so that it wouldn't be about the money. And now I'm told that if I was doing the same project at a mushroom university, I'd probably get funding because it would 'make the council look good'. Ugh this makes me sick. Everything in this world is a bloody popularity contest.

So yes, hopefully now you understand the Curse of Cambridge. Hopefully now you understand why quite a few Cambridge people are reluctant to tell you which university they're from. Hopefully now you understand why Cambridge seems to be getting much less publicity for 'groundbreaking research' compared with past centuries.

Oh by the way, I passed Stephen Hawking on the corridor at Addenbrooke's Hospital yesterday.

"Workin' 9 to 5..."

Listening to: some random (but nice) song on Radio 1

So it has begun. I am a first year postgraduate student at the University of Cambridge. My work week will be officially 40 hours long, and unofficially...as long as I want it to be. I walked into the department at around 9.30 this morning and drifted out at about 5pm. Nobody knew, nobody cared. It's a weird feeling...like office work without office regulations (and without the pay). I've started with a read-through of someone's PhD thesis, and so far, so good. Admittedly, I've only read 10 pages.

Now I have to go downstairs and make some dinner (for myself). I'm beginning to see why PhD students are perceived as being unsociable creatures.