Too Much Sugar?

Something was brought up  about conversations with your inner child not long ago.  I hate that shit.  What in the world would I have to say to my inner child?  I can just imagine how that conversation would go.

Big Me:  Hey, how’s it going?

Inner Child:  Do you have any pixie sticks?  I like Pixie Sticks?

Big Me:  Fresh out of Pixie Sticks, sorry.

Inner Child:  I like Pixie Sticks, just not the grape ones.

Big Me:  I’ll keep that in mind. Are you getting along alright?

Inner Child:  I hate Kathy.  She has a doll house with lights that work, all I have is a piece of shit Fisher-Price doll house.  I want a Barbie House too.

Big Me: Do you ever think about anything serious?

Inner Child: This is serious.

Big Me:  How so?

Inner Child:  I have my needs to think about.

Big Me: It won’t make any difference in 20 years.

Inner Child: It makes a difference now.  I’ll think about serious stuff when I get older.  Right now I want a Pixie Stick and a decent doll house.  Alright?

Big Me:  Alright.

I believe that you never know when you are in the middle of something until it’s over.  When I was a child I didn’t have a reference point to know what was going on.  I can’t go back and change anything.  Then as now, all I’ve got is mt experience up until this moment.  For all I know I’m fucking up royally at this very moment.

The only difference between then and now is that now I feel I have some responsibility for my actions.  I have more experience.  Back then I was pretty much flying by the seat of my pants.  I can’t change that.  There are no do-overs in life.  If there were we would never get anywhere.

Can you imagine actually being able to go back to childhood knowing what you know now?  How would you deal with knowing that your best friend in the first grade was going to die of a drug overdose in her late twenties, that your uncle was going to get lung cancer, or your dog was going to get hit in the road?  Even if you could stop these things, could you actually pick a better path for yourself?  I not sure that I wouldn’t be more conflicted, and as a result really screw things up, if I had that kind of knowledge.  Imagine the pressure.

I wouldn’t want to go through life considering every move based on where I find myself now.  As I said before, you never really know how you’re doing at the moment anyway.  I could fuck things up way worse.

I’m going to go and have a Pixie Stick now.

Ten Things I Wish I Knew Before I Was Touched By Adoption

This is my contribution to the Grown In My Heart Adoption Carnival.  Get in on it too, right here.  Use the Mr. Linky thing.

Go on, you know you want to.

First, I wasn’t touched by adoption.  The only folks ‘touched by adoption’ are random viewers of Adoption Stories or some other heart-tugging-ain’t-adoption- great TV show.  People are touched by the stories of others, or possibly an uncle, but not adoption.  Adoption consumes, completely immerses, one drowns in adoption.

Since I did not have the ability to speak before I was touched, threw into, drown by, adoption, I am going to take on the persona of an annoying talking babies in those god awful John Travolta-Kristie Alley movies.  I’m sure some folks found those touching too.

1. Mom, I’ll never see you again.  Once you let go of me, I’ll be gone forever.  When you sign those papers I’ll be an orphan.  You certainly have more faith in this world than I do.

2. Mom, I’m going to look a bit like you.  It would be really nice to have that reference point as I’m growing up.  I’m never going to see anyone in real life that looks remotely like me until I’m almost 40 years old.  My confidence is going to be effected by this.

3. Mom, I’m never going to know who my dad is.  It’s  kind of  a  big deal for me.  You said you wanted to give me up to save me from “the stain of illegitimacy”, that doesn’t bother me as much as not even knowing who’s bastard I am.  BTW, everybody is going to assume I’m stained by illegitimacy as soon as they know I’m adopted for the rest of my life.  You aren’t saving me from anything.

4. Mom, I’m going to be spending ever summer Sunday for a couple of years about a mile from where you live, in about 33 years.  I wonder if you’ll see my picture in the local paper with my racing trophies?

5. New Mom and Dad, I’m not a blank slate.  Sorry.  Just wanting me to be like you won’t change a thing.  I am what I am.

6. New Mom and Dad, I do not have colic.  I just want to go home, where ever that is.

7. New Mom and Dad, You are going to have other children in a few years.  Children of your own.  Children that will be like you.  Do you still want to go through with this?  There is a whole list of other folks who will take me.  I won’t be hurt.

8. Lawyer, You might want to put a note in my file that this stuff will be “of use” to me in the future.  Your son, who will be the judge in this district someday, is going to tell me that there is “nothing of use to me in this file”.  He is going to be wrong.  Besides, I’ll find out anyway.

9. Governor, make my records available to me.  I am in the care of your state now.  You are going to see that I’m given to people to raise me to adulthood.  I’m going to pay taxes and vote for your successors.  I deserve to know what is going on now.

10. Mom, New Mom and Dad, Lawyer, Governor, Everybody Else, I am going to be alright.  A bit worse for the wear of all this, but alright.  It would have been a lot easier on me if you had listened to me now.

I Met Michael Jackson. Really. I Did.

It was back when he wasn’t too big a deal.  After the Jackson 5 had kind of cooled off and before Michael’s career as a solo artist really took off.  It must have been 1974.

My family was on vacation at Disney World, we were staying in the Royal Palace Hotel.  Michael and at least some of his brothers were also staying there.  We wouls see them by the pool. One evening my sister and I, being bored with the pool, ventured into the game room to see what was going on.  This was before video games, so about all there were pinball machines and a Foosball table.

There were a few other kids around.  All of us wet from the pool and undoubtedly overstimulated from our day at the theme park.  There was one kid who was taller than the rest of us, other than that, he seemed just like the rest of us.  Just another kid passing some time in the game room with the other kids.  He asked if anybody wanted to play Foosball.

Several of us gathered around and we played a couple of games.  Nothing special.  I knew who he was.  I’d seen him on TV and even had a couple of his records.  One kid did ask if he was Michael Jackson, he said yes, and everyone left it at that.  I think it was because we were in the realm of kids.  You know, away from adults, going by the unspoken, but well understood rules, of kids gathered together.  We were playing and that’s all.

After a couple of games, Michael left.  He thanked us for playing with him and he was off.

Nothing was said among us kids after he left.  We just kept playing Foosball.

Not long after this Michael Jackson would become the pop icon everybody is remembering today.  All the fame, all the craziness, an existence beyond the imagining of most of us.

I was only a casual fan of his music.  I appreciate good pop, but it’s just not my thing.  When I would see him on television, especially in recent years, with all the surgery, all the strangeness, I would wonder what exactly happened.  He really was, at least sometimes, very much like a normal person once.

Today I’m remebering the kid I played foosball with.  He was alright.