James Taylor Made Me Cry

True Story Magazine, pulpy, always a photo on the front of a young woman on the front with a blurb about what she had done for love? True Story had a monthly feature called “My Visit from Beyond”. My high school bestie and I used to love to read those out loud to each other, complete with weird sound effects. The sound effects were used to punctuate the lameness of the stories that consisted of lonely lovelorn women seeing shadows of lovers from past lives in doorways and dead aunts telling them where they had hidden their pearls.

Circa 1985, proving that interesting things only happened to people in soft focus in the ’80s.

I have no doubt my skepticism about all things paranormal spring from this experience. Not only did these experience with the ‘other world’ seem mundane, they were obviously wish fulfillment fantasies.

Now I wonder. This morning I turned on the radio, the first song I heard was James Taylor’s Fire and Rain. I’ve never paid much attention to the 1970′s singer/songwriter types, but being of a certain age, there is no way you don’t know that song. Heck, I had never realized it was about someone dying, it was just something that played in the background a lot when I was a kid.

That song had me in tears before the first chorus. The mixture of grief, realization, self disgust, and finally laughter through tears, at my silliness was intense. Seriously how could I, Addie Pray, be breaking down will listening to James Taylor? Then I figured it out, it was ‘my visit from beyond’, David was haunting me, sending me a message.

Nothing would make him laugh more than seeing me break down over a song like that. It’s so not me, and so David to play a paranormal practical joke on me. God, I loved that man.

I really hope it was him trying to make laugh today.

I Wonder If I Can Relinquish Myself?

Since my state continues to treat me like a child that can’t be trusted with my records, I think I’d like to relinquish myself, to the state.  the problem is I don’t want to be a ward of the court.   Since I’m relinquishing myself I think I should be able to pick my new adoptive parents.

I was thinking the governor would be a good choice.  He can afford another kid, and let’s face it, the prestige would be nice.  I think it would be a mutually beneficial relationship.  He could get all kinds of publicity for adopting and I could live in the governor’s mansion.

I think it would be a great way to bring adoptee rights issues home to someone who could do something about it.  At all the family photo ops, conventions, and tree lighting ceremonies I could raise my fist and yell “GIVE ADOPTEES THEIR ORIGINAL BIRTH CERTIFICATES!!”.   I’m betting that could get something done fast.

We all should do it.  Just imagine if all the governors, in all the states that don’t allow equal access for adoptees, had tens of thousands adult adoptees trying to relinquish themselves to them…….

The potential news story.

Addie Pray Nixon, yeah that sounds good.

I’m Horrifying Adoptive Parents Again..

..over at Grown In My Heart.

It’s Sex and Drugs and Dear Birthmother letters for me this time.

see-adoption-blog-post

Alternatives To Violence

Being an adoptee can make you want to throttle everyone you meet sometimes, but you just can’t do that. Read more about it here….

Melanie’s bitchy post at Grown In My Heart

To anyone that might take offense, I was talking about someone else.  Really.  I was.

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I Saw Your Name In the Paper..

In my neck of the woods folks used to say, “I saw your name in the paper..” when you had got in trouble for something.  A speeding ticket, owing back property taxes, receiving an honor from a church or organization of which they weren’t a member, etc.  All that changed in the 1980′s when we finally got cable TV.  From then on it was, “I saw your name on the cable.”

It was a wondrous thing when my town finally got cable, it changed everything.  Up until that time there was only one channel that would come in reliably.  You might be able to get 2 or 3 more if you had the giant tower with the giant antennae with a rotor, sometimes, but not always.  At best recetion was snowy and went in and out.

Oh course we lived a few miles from town so we didn’t get cable.  We would eventually have a giant sattilite dish, but that was years away.  I loved going to my friends houses and watching TV.  I could finally tell what the cast of Saturday Night Live really looked like, and they had 8 channels, all perfectly clear.  That’s right, 8 channels, including HBO.  One was the public access channel where you could see funeral notices, the weather, community events, and who owed back taxes.

My town’s cable system has not changed much over the years.  I think they are up to 13 or 14 channels. They did eventually run the cable out by my folks house, and they have it.   It doesn’t much matter because almost everybody here has 100′s of channels on their  satellite TV anyway.

The access channel is still there, unchanged.  You can still see the same things there.  Yesterday my dad told me that he had seen my name on there.  My first thought was, “Oh what the fuck now?’  Oh course he couldn’t remember what my name was on there for.

Ever since my town has  decided to give failed sheriff’s candidates gainful employment as “code enforcement officers” my only contact with city government has been with the never ending line of blowhards who occupy this position, before they are fired for carrying a sidearm and threatening someone with it, knocking on my door and telling me I have to move a junky car or mow my yard.  I had a feeling my name on the cable channel wasn’t good news.

So I called city hall and explained that my dad (I didn’t have to tell him who he was, surprise, surprise) had seen my name on the cable and I wondered what it was about.  The clerk said, “Well we don’t have any code violators or anybody owing back taxes on there now, I’m not sure.”  (she knew who I was too).  “It’s on here, let me see what it is when it comes around. There is funeral notices on there now, that wouldn’t be you.”  Obviously.

I wait, try to make small talk, “How’s that new code enforcement officer working out? You know he ran for sheriff in the next county over last election?”  She knew that.

Then she says, “Here it is….you were the Project Pride house of the week.”

I ask, “What is Project Pride?”

“It’s were we recognize people who have really nice yards.”

“Oh..Ok, well thank you.”

Maybe I’m moving up in the world.

Adopt-a-Adoptee

Adopte-a-Highway

Adopt-a-Manatee

Adopt-a-Classroom

Adopt-a-Minefeild

Adopt-a-Microbe

Adopt-a-Grape

Adopt-a-Watershed

Adopt-a-Lemur

 

The above are all examples of good works involving adopting a variety of people, animals and things.  It seems that everyone wants to adopt something.  As valuable as these programs my be, it seems to me something is missing.  I think we should let an anxious public go right to the source and actually adopt-a-adoptee.

These programs are set up to help provide needed volunteers and funds for a good cause.  I would be willing to put a sign in my yard that designated the kind individual or organization that had volunteered to clean up and beautify my yard.  I would love to attend a banquet and auction dedicated to better the lives of myself and other adoptees by collecting money and donated gifts.

All adoptees reading please leave a breif desrciption of yourself and any needs that you have so we can get the ball rolling.  Anyone interested in adopting an adoptee, please contact me, so we can get a sign made and get you scheduled to help out.  I’ll start…

Addie is a 43- year-old adopteee who could use some help with her landscaping.  She would also appeciate any help with vacation funding as she is long over due for a holiday in the sun.  Please help.

 

Right Here.

Changes

I think that each and everyone one of us has the capacity for change.  Heck change is what I’m all about, and what this blog is all about.  I an an Adult Adoptee Advocating For Change, after all.

It’s not just me, I feel change in the air.  We are all growing, all changing, maybe we’ll all be better for it.   

Change takes inspiration and no one has inspired me more than Marley today.  Just to think a year ago her position on adoption agencies went like this…

Records and identity access is about our rights and has no connection with the marketing schemes of adoption agencies. BN has a long-standing, hard-line policy of accepting no support from the adoption industry. Bastard Nation specifically, and the adoptee rights movement in general, cannot and should not be co-opted or used by the adoption industry to promote its own agenda. We disavow all industry involvement in our work. Any entanglement with the adoption industry endangers the integrity and credibility of the adoptee rights movement.

 

And today when she says, in reference to her groups partnership with Holt International, commenting on my last post….

 

 We are partners with many groups with CalOpen. 

 

This includes 3, count them 3, adoption agencies, by the way.

 

I’ve always said that in order to get records opened up we must work with all kinds of people and organizations related to adoption, and here’s Marley living by that example.  

And I can only think that her presence will go on to inspire more good things.  More openness at Holt, an easing in the attitude that they display to natural mothers, a brand new day at Holt International.  I’m sure Marley, above all others, is working to make Holt the kind of adoption agency we’d all like to see.  Gone will be the days of half truths and difficulty reuniting.  

Change is good and I’m proud of you Marley.

Hard Realities

It has been commented that I may not be able to distinguish fantasy from reality.  This may be true, I think we all live in our own worlds, everything we see is interrupted through our own perspective.   This has nothing to do with being able to recognize satire.  In light of recent comments it also has nothing to do with reading comprehension.  If you’ll look to the top of the page, this one’s tagged satire.  That means I know that I’m writing about something that isn’t serious or real.

For example, I ran across this site just this morning..

http://4hillary.wordpress.com/

There is some pure gold right there, Arlen Specter questioning anyone’s sanity is brilliant.

And I won’t even mention the Ricky Martin post, I want you to enjoy it for your self, She Bangs indeed.

Also be sure to check out the comments section, this is where the bloggers are in their element, I don’t know how they come up with this stuff.  The daily show has nothing on these folks.

The writers of this blog have brought together the nuttier side of this election for all to enjoy.  When taken as a whole, one can see just how silly the blogosphere can really be.  Though purely satirical, it can be used as an excellent resource to point out just how desperate some of the unofficial Clinton campaign workers have become.

Check it out, and don’t blame me if you end up spitting your latte all over your computer screen.

Second Chances

I wouldn’t say the theme of this blog is dissatisfaction, but I have to admit it does come into play in many of my posts. It’s occurred to me that this is a bit selfish. Adoption isn’t just about me. There are more people involved, adoptive parents just don’t get enough chances with dissatisfaction here. I apologize, and it’s time for me to change my ways.

I’ve done a lot of writing about the act of adoption itself concerning adoptive parents, but paid less attention to their feelings after the fact. I should take their feelings into consideration. I realize that raising adoptees is no day in the park. Adoptive parents are entitled to their own frustrations, and yes, dissatisfaction. With that acknowledged, I do feel that I need to press on in the spirit of answers and resolution, as is only fair.

A website was brought to my attention that may offer hope to both adoptees and their adoptive parents in finding the satisfaction that we both deserve. It offer a novel approach, one that some may say is radical, the solution it offers may disturb some, but I think it could be viable in some cases. Please explore it with an open mind.

I wish solutions like this had been available when I was a child. The world was a smaller place then and the social climate wasn’t ready for such bold solutions. I have no doubt that if this ere an option it’s something that my own adoptive parents would be willing to explore. Everyone deserves a second chance, even adoptive parents.

I think you’ll find the site both informative and easy to use. I can’t imagine this won’t be the next big thing.

ChildTrader.com

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Is stupidity contagious? Does it happen to be going around like the flu?

I cannot believe the instances of just plain stupidity that I have seen today alone, and I’m not just talking about the internet here. In fact, I think that the internet displays a lower level of sheer dumbness than my everyday life.

I don’t think that the average person can find their way home consistently, though they seem to be able to find me every time. How does that work? Am I wearing some type of homing device that only the lacking in intelligence can pick up? Why are they so drawn to me?

Was I implanted with a device during those missing weeks when I was a newborn? That’s the only possible explanation that I can figure out. Did someone at some black budgeted government agency decide to take the experiment of adoption one step further? I was born in 1965, this was the era of cats being implanted with listening devices in order to spy on the Ruskies. Would it really be so odd that they might decide to implant adoptees in order to trace them through their lives?

The thing is, I fear this is working out about as well as other covert programs of the era. The Ruskie spying cats were seduced, wandered off, and were hit by cars. It was simply a silly bad idea that didn’t work. I wonder if I was set up to either spy on Regular Upstanding American Citizens like my adoptive parents? Did they want to know what Mr. and Mrs. America were discussing in the privacy of their own home? Did some bright young man in the CIA think that bugging the baby was a great way to do this? Were the details not quite worked out? Was I implanted with something that just sends a signal but doesn’t record, does this signal somehow attract the stupid?

I’m imagining a steady tone. Beep. Beep. Beep. Like some moron drawing Sputnik.

Is it possible?

OK, some idiot is going to think I’m serious. They aren’t going to be smart enough to read this whole thing before they hit the comment button. Could this be the draw of the implant?