Battle Fatigue

Activism of any kind is exhausting. Being the flea biting, the would-be slayer, the acceptor of hopeless mission, the one who journeys again and again into the lion’s den, will drain away the very stuff that sent you down this path in the first place.

If we look at the on going struggle as warriors, why shouldn’t we tire from battle? Traditionally those that chose warrior as a profession did so not just because it appeals to a need to do good, to protect those that cannot protect themselves, and a baser instinct to apply the force within ourselves to strike at those that do wrong, it was understood that this dangerous work had advantages. The righteous joy taken in the defeat of an enemy, the very things which they defended spread out for the taking, a time to celebrate with comrades all glorious in triumph, and the returning home as subject of honor and praise. Without these things, the warrior life can be a grim one.

When we must band together as guerrillas, few in number, poorly equipped, fighting an enemy so large to be beyond comprehension even by those who are part of it, or be the even more foolhardy one who goes alone, our victories, slight as they are, give us no plunder, no salt, no gold, only the celebration of our own band of fools. Is it any wonder that we tire? Should we not feel we are only receiving half measure of our commission?

There is no wonder in that we tire, the constant battle leaves no time for laurels. We must settle for our scars and scraps. But through that, are we not the truest of warriors? Those that sign on for the fight alone express the purest, most divine, of our guild. And what shall we do when we tire? Return to the fields, the dwellings, the people we defend and advance, and take comfort in them, knowing they surely need us.

We must find satisfaction, if not glory.

 

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Adoption and Poilitics Before I’ve Had My Coffee

Disclaimer: This is a humor piece, it is not meant to influence or inform, only to be amusing. Please do not use my comments section to post actual facts. You’ll just piss me off. Thanks.

I woke up way too early this morning. My life in the last few weeks has included falling way too hard for the media coverage of the political events in Iowa (I’m right next door) and adoption activism. No wonder these things got mixed up in my mind being up at this ungodly hour.

I began to think about the current crop of GOP candidates in terms of adoption, specifically what role they would fulfill if they were part of the adoption community….

(insert soft focus and the dream music from any 1970’s sitcom here)

Mitt Romney-Birth father, adopter, envies adoptees, duh, he’s Mormon.

Michelle Bachman-Adopter, with a blog and a website, working on a book, will tell you how important she is to the adoption community, known to troll adult adoptees reminding them how grateful they should be while misquoting Margaret Mead, who she thinks wrote a baby book.

John Huntsman-Adoptee, but nobody has noticed.

Newt Gingrich-Late Discovery Adoptee, claims to be grateful, but is troubled by sexually charged homicidal fantasies involving his adoptive mother.

Sarah Palin-Adoptee that wants to adopt, already has really bad ass names picked out, but has been turned down by every agency in the country. She can see Russian babies from her house.

Ron Paul-Adoptee, nobody listens to him, compensates by overachieving, but just can’t please his adoptoraptors by becoming president, destined to fail. Also wonders if his children are actually his. He still truly believes he came from the hospital.

Rick Santorum-definitely not a birth father. Google it.

Herman Cain-Adoptee, look at the group picture.

Rick Perrry-Sperm donor, but underutilized, has probably not fathered any children, intelligence means more to potential buyers than good hair.

(Que end-of-dream-sequence music)

Of Twitter and Squirrels

I’m having more fun watching my tweets than I should.  I’ve somehow picked up some followers that I decided to follow, mainly because they seem to have some kind of association with adoption.

My fave right now seems to be a christian music groupie.  Her tweets pining for the objects of her affection just slay me.  She counts the miles they are away from her and sends them blessings.  Yesterday she was soliciting for someone to buy her a ticket to Finland just to be nearer her favorite.  It’s all kind of amusing and sad in a 13 year-old wet panties way.  she has a picture that looks like a very sweet little girl.  somehow you just know she’s really a pig in Walmart stretch pants.

I have another known as “borninmyheart” yeah, borninmyheart) who seems to have jumped on to everyone who has ever mentioned adoption in a tweet.  I’m not exactly sure what they are up to yet, but so far they seem to like the word distasteful.  I wonder if she has seen my blog?  

Other than that it’s pretty much liberal versus conservative politics nad every kind of adoption information and angst.  

Not much else going on in Addie’s wolrld.  Just doing the Spring thing, trying to get the garden in around torrential rain storms, working, and trying to get some plans firmed up for the summer.  

My cat is currently engaged in what looks to be a never ending war with a squirrel.  She seems to think that the squirrel is trying to set up a settlement in a tree that is ancestrally hers.  So far there has been a lot of tail swishing and chattering, but no engagement.  The Vegas bookmakers have the squirrel at 5-3 odds.  I’m putting my money on the cat.