Notes on the Accessibility of Atypical

Notes on the Accessibility of Atypical:

As part of Access2Film’s Sensory Microphone I’m learning accessible filmmaking techniques.

In Atypical I’ve found it interesting due to inter-accessibility.

The show is shot mostly from Sam’s own perspective (thus preferable to some other autism-based shows) and the subtitling matches that. The words he says and thinks are articulated in full sensory bloom – the overload is captured and demonstrated realistically at times, and the text captures that.

Also, when music is playing in the background it displays the artist and title – further allowing those with hearing impairments to research the music and interact with it on their own terms.

NaPoWriMo Day 17 – Paddy’s Poem

Yooooooou’rrrrrrrrre maaaaaaaade offffffff cuddle!
Cuddle cuddle cuddle cuddle!
His ears flipping and flopping
as I chase him around the flat.

Yooooooou’rrrrrrrrre gonnnnnnnnna starrrrrrrrrrt running!
I noticed he’d respond to the intonation.
A playful game began
with my favourite pupper.

Prior to Covid I cared for him for many years,
and I’ve definitely felt his absence since.
I’ve looked after other dogs
but none are quite like him.

He’s maaaaaaaade offffffff cuddle!
And he was my greatest canine friend.

NaPoWriMo Day 16 – Forfar Feathered Friend

A penguin greets in Forfar
By the service station entrance.
Childish glee emanates from my face.
Another feathered friend anar.
Beauty that can’t help but entrance.
Caledonian coos at penguin pace.

Deftly setting sun upon its chest
Encapsulating the wonders of the Highlands.
Could you imagine a greater greeting in this place?
Dearly held, with a landscape on its crest.
Cute face.

NaPoWriMo Day 15 – The Pique’s Peak

I have no interest in being defeatist,
not when my own mind tortured me,
flogged and flayed for over a decade
by depression, doubt and trauma.

Instead, I don’t follow my dreams…
I live life lucid and create them.

I have no interest in being disinterested,
not when too many days were spent staring out in near-perpetual apathy.

I’d much rather follow my passions,
use that heart on my sleeve as the jumper that sets the goalposts.
Forever moving,
hitting targets from afar like Ronaldinho.

I have no more interest in stating what I’m not interested in,
for my focus is on the gentle embrace of the pique’s peak.

NaPoWriMo Day 14 – Falling into Memory

I’m climbing up the slide at the park near my auntie Teresa’s,
just 3 years old and not yet accustomed to pain.

My golden curls shone
like the horizon of an oncoming memory
I hadn’t quite anticipated.

Cut.

My foot loose, greasier than Kevin’s bacon,
I lose my grip.
Gravity, like destiny, calls my name.

Cut.

Crash! Bang! Wallop!
My head hits the ground
experience bleeds out from a single…

Cut.

NaPoWriMo Day 13 – The Gift of Gratitude

Stop,
close your eyes,
and breathe.

State 3 things you’re grateful for.
Not one, not two,
but just one more.

Focus on your goals and dreams,
let go of the wheel
yet do not scream.

Embrace the gifts
the universe bestows
and each day your gratitude will grow.

I started once, in darker times,
and now I smile at all that’s mine.

NaPoWriMo Day 12 – A Forest Legacy

A seed is small but the potential is mighty
and when nourished
with wilful waters
and serendipitous sunlight
an oak appears where once stood an idea.

The greatest of men described friendship as planting seeds
and I now follow his example.
I shall leave a forest as my legacy,
each root a fragment of my soul.

NaPoWriMo Day 11 – An Answered Prayer

Smol in stature but immeasurable in heart,
her kindness an imprint
from her soul’s beacon.

Though she struggles with her own mind,
as I have too.
I am a tree planted from the seeds of her empathy.

Her humour is sharper than the tastiest cheddar
and just as cheesy at times.
Yet I cherish every bite.

She sings smoothly, an angel’s song
transmuted through finite human ears.
A melody I know by heart.

Her name means prayer,
and the universe has answered.

NaPoWriMo Day 10 – Love is difficult

Love is difficult
in a world where lust
and indifference reign.

Yet I’ve begun to love myself
and place past pains in eternal slumber.

In all else, the universe has provided.
So how can I doubt it?
Perhaps doubt lies within
after so long without.

Trauma has melted away
and scars have faded beyond Heimdall’s gaze.
Self-love’s kind kaleidoscope is the seed
from which my World Tree is rooted.