The End Times

Yesterday I heard a woman say she didn’t know what she was going to do. She knew that we were at the end times, just like in the Bible. Then in the same breath, she said something about moving to Canada. And this is why I know Canada will be safe from the wrath of God.

Somehow a bunch of overly polite, socialized medicine utilizing, hockey playing, Canadians, many of which who speak French on a daily basis, will somehow escape the destruction of our planet by a wrathful God. I’m not sure why. I suppose I should have asked for the details.

The thing is, this woman isn’t crazy. I don’t know her well, but I do know she’s a working mother of 3, she’s married, she drives an SUV. She’s what passes for middle class in this rural slum. She went to the same schools I did, she’s around my age, we’ve had a lot of common experiences. She not stupid, nor is she educated, but there seem to be enough lights on up there to give her the ability to see through fear mongering hooey. Why do her and I see the world as such a different place? Why am I certain no matter what happens, economic recovery or apocalypse, nothing will change either of our views?

I wonder too if she would think of our common experiences if she knew how I see the world. I fear she wouldn’t. Preparing for Armageddon must take a lot of dedication, a lot of focus. I suppose one only has time to think about the important stuff, not leaving a lot of room to consider other points of view. It has to be a hard thing to keep up, this living in a constant state of trauma. I fear she would only see me as a poor soul left behind, or an enemy set on stopping her on her way to the Canadian Zion.

It would be easy for me to dismiss this as nothing but a load of redneck ignorance and bible thumping stupidity, but I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to accept that many see my country as such a different place than I do. It hurts my heart to think a presidential administration would drive people to think it’s all over. I was pretty worn down by the second Bush administration, but had enough faith in my country, and common experience and knowledge, to know that it wouldn’t last forever. I wish they understood this. Even when the Obama era ends without the complete destruction of the Earth, less Canada, I know they’ll think the world just hasn’t ended yet.

Choice and Want

Sometimes I really want to write something great here. I have it all worked out, then it just doesn’t come out right. I just don’t have the strength to make it clear, to knock down the objections, close the holes that could put me in danger of being misunderstood, distill my thoughts into something someone would want to read, much less debate intelligently. I’m not 100%.

Today I was inspired by Amanda and Claudia, I wanted to write about choice, and want. But I just can’t. I can’t get my thoughts organized, I can’t get them down here, I can’t lead you to the place their thoughts took me. I don’t have the words right now, I can’t choose the ones I need.

I haven’t written down a decent thing for a year and a half. I’ve had a thought here and there, I haven’t chosen to write them down.  The prospect of doing it has been too daunting, I’ve settled for just existing. I’ve even felt good about that. Just existing. Maybe that’s the point, why thinking about choices, and the ability to make them struck me.

Hell, I don’t know. Just see this a link post and go read them. I’ll be over here, breathing.

God Fucks Up Again, Film at 11

I’m an internet news junkie, so I’ve been reading a lot about God lately. He seems to making the news at least a couple of times a week letting us know exactly what he intended. Most of the time it has something to do with women’s bodies. From what I can tell, God has a hard time talking to girls, so he does the spiritual and/or physical equivalent of beating them up to lead them to what is best for them.

Just today an Indiana Representative, running for the Senate said that pregnancies resulting from rape were something God intended to happen. It’s not hard to imagine this guy’s train of thought would lead to the the statement, “they can just give it up for adoption and allow a deserving couple the right to raise a child.”

This is very dangerous thinking, and not just in te obvious God-thinks-rape-is-OK way, which is as bad as it gets. It’s dangerous in the God-lets-very-bad-things-happen-to-some-people-so-other-people-can-have-what-they-want way. While rape is one of the most heinous examples, this kind of thinking extends to everything. If you believe if one good thing comes out of a bad situation, it must be OK, it can lead to allowing all kinds of bad things to happen. Things like human trafficking, war, and limiting the rights of certain groups start to look like something ordained because, in some horribly obvious, or roundabout way, something good comes out of it.

Bad things aren’t OK, alright? If something bad happens to someone and they later say they are stronger for what happened, doesn’t make it alright. I have no doubt those stronger people would still not wish the bad thing had happened to them, or anyone else. Bad things must be recognized for what they are, not the good thing that may have resulted from the situation. This is especially true when the perceived good result benefits someone else. Just saying, “Oh well, at least, blah, blah, blah,” is dismissive, and often cruel.

I’ll shut up now.

Getting All Adopted

I’ve been an aware and active adult adoptee for a long time. I realized long ago how much adoption has effected my life, I did the anger, the search, the finding, the support of others, the activism, and even a little healing. But sometimes I still get all adopted.

But Addie, you say, you will always be adopted, you know that. Yeah, I do, but there is being adopted, and getting all adopted. And all the adoptees out there, no matter what kind of peace you have or haven’t made with your situation, know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s all the nasty stuff about being adopted coming up from what seems like nowhere. The insecurity, the clinginess combined with the urge to run away, the need for constant reassurance, pretty much all the crappy feelings being adopted can whip on you.

Birthdays, alcohol, pictures of kittens progressing relationships, stubbing your toe,stress, grief, being questioned about adoption by a civilian, and waking up in a bad mood, are all major triggers for adoptedness coming out. And trust me, most of us are aware it’s happening, we just can’t stop it. It’s like a random act of PMS.

I don’t think getting all adopted once in a while means much. When it happens, it usually doesn’t mean we’ve gone off the deep end, never to come back. It just means for one reason or another we’re really feeling being adopted right at that moment. It settles down, we feel better, we can see it for what it really is again. For me, anyway, it’s just part of it.

The good news is, I didn’t get too adopted on my birthday. My adoptee friends know exactly what I’m talking about.

 

All I Want for My Birthday is My Original Birth Certificate and World Peace and a Puppy

Activist Peeps and photo courtesy of the fabulous and recently reunited Jeff Hancock.

Today is my birthday. You know what I want? World peace and a puppy. A cute little puppy that doesn’t chew on things, never piddles on the floor, and never grows up.

Neither one of these things is going to work out, I’m sad and disappointed.

You know what might make me feel better?

My freaking birth certificate.

If I (and all other adoptees), could get their original birth certificate today, it would be the best birthday ever.  I’d be singing from the rooftops and whistling Zip-ee-dee-do-dah out of my ass.

I don’t imagine the Original Birth Certificate thing is going to work out today either.

But since it is my birthday, you can do one thing for me.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about, go to the Adoptee Rights Coalition webpage and find out what this is all about.

If you know all about what I’m talking about, go to the Adoptee Rights Coalition webpage and get caught up on the latest news, find out how to get involved, make a donation.

If you really know what I’m talking about, write to one of your lawmakers today. Tell them to support Original Birth Certificate access for all adoptees.

Hey, I’m sitting all alone, without a puppy, and it’s my birthday. Help me out.

 

 

 

Originally posted on Addie Recoy Design:

I got a big box in the mail today. That sweet man of mine sent me a wonderful birthday present, a dress form.

I’ve been wanting one for a while but was a bit hesitant to make the investment. I had had a dress form several years ago, I ended up giving away. She was one of the plastic adjustable ones and never quite worked for me. She was too light weight and tippy,a little hippy, and I never felt like I could quite get it adjusted. It was covered in some kind of synthetic stuff that looked like it belonged on a car seat and wasn’t really pinnable. And she had boobs like a 1950′s bullet bra.

This one is much nicer. Solid, heavy, wheeled metal base, padded, and covered in linen. She also has much more natural tatas . I can work with her.

But she needs a…

View original 72 more words

Waiting

It seems that most of my life has been about waiting lately. Waiting for this or that to get done, waiting for something to sell, waiting for an email,waiting for a phone call. I’m tired of waiting.

It’s not like I’ve been doing nothing at all, I’ve done a lot. I’m just ready for everything to settle. I’ve gone from being about as hopeless as humanly possible to looking forward to the future. It just doesn’t seem to come fast enough, but then it never has.

I’m an impatient person by nature. Maybe I should see this as a return to my old self, but my sincere desire to get in someone’s face and scream, “C’mon, already!”, has never been my best trait.  I suppose I have to take the good with the bad.

Being ready to move on, and being able to move on, are two different things. You have to get yourself ready to move on, put things in place, but the ability to do so is almost always dependent on others.

Yesterday I did something that I thought would set off a pretty good shit storm.  It didn’t happen. I should have expected this, the very reason I took action was due to their inaction. The pace this outfit runs at would impress a slacker tree sloth living in his parents basement. They function within some kind of Bizzaro World where every action has an equal and opposite non-action. I have no idea how they stay in business.

So I guess I’ll just sit here and wait a while longer. I’m not happy about it.