Current move status:
Ohio - Out
North Carolina in the running....
Waiting impatiently for an update.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Sometimes Julia's blog lights up in my reader
like just now.
and for a split second, I forget.
and then I remember, and I cry.
I miss her.
Friday, July 10, 2009
At least I wasn't f*cking adopted, bitch!
Saw this little gem over at Twitter, posted by Jessenia about a little bit of adoption truth that happened on Real World Cancun.
Now, don't even try to read the accompanying article at gawker.com, because it's all but unreadable.
And actually don't even try to watch the video, because with all the bleeps, it's entirely incoherent.
With the exception of the last bombshell thrown out at the end of the fight:
I don't know anything about this show. I haven't watched Real World since about Season 2 or so. I heard there were three adoptees this season which made me curious, but I just never got around to actually watching it on demand.
Anyway, I wasn't surprised or shocked by this. I had that bitchy line thrown at me growing up.
It's actually quite honest, to tell the truth. While it's ugly to hear and hurts like hell, I've always held this thought is deep inside the psyche of many a real kid.
If someone's so unlovable their own mother gave them away, that makes them fair game. So it's easy for a real kid who is lost for words to use someone's bastard status against them as a weapon.
I don't know the name of young woman who had that lovely but familiar line thrown at her, Emily I think it might be, but my eyes bled from reading through the article in the link above so I can't be sure.
It sucks to hear that line.
There was quite the bruhaha over that Orphan movie and it's one "It must be hard to love an adopted child" line.
Wonder if there will be the same type of stink over this one?
I'd love to be wrong, but somehow I doubt it. That adoptee from Real World unfortunately happens to be an adult, and that's a little long in the tooth for the general adoption-loving public.
Read more...
Now, don't even try to read the accompanying article at gawker.com, because it's all but unreadable.
And actually don't even try to watch the video, because with all the bleeps, it's entirely incoherent.
With the exception of the last bombshell thrown out at the end of the fight:
At least I wasn't fucking adopted, bitch!
I don't know anything about this show. I haven't watched Real World since about Season 2 or so. I heard there were three adoptees this season which made me curious, but I just never got around to actually watching it on demand.
Anyway, I wasn't surprised or shocked by this. I had that bitchy line thrown at me growing up.
It's actually quite honest, to tell the truth. While it's ugly to hear and hurts like hell, I've always held this thought is deep inside the psyche of many a real kid.
If someone's so unlovable their own mother gave them away, that makes them fair game. So it's easy for a real kid who is lost for words to use someone's bastard status against them as a weapon.
I don't know the name of young woman who had that lovely but familiar line thrown at her, Emily I think it might be, but my eyes bled from reading through the article in the link above so I can't be sure.
But Emily, or whatever your name is, sorry sister.
It sucks to hear that line.
There was quite the bruhaha over that Orphan movie and it's one "It must be hard to love an adopted child" line.
Wonder if there will be the same type of stink over this one?
I'd love to be wrong, but somehow I doubt it. That adoptee from Real World unfortunately happens to be an adult, and that's a little long in the tooth for the general adoption-loving public.
Friday, July 03, 2009
Share the same place for a minute or two
This has been in my head a lot:
A pervasive sense of rootlessness has been a constant in my life. With July bringing the Adoptee Rights Demonstration in the place I was made, combined with this lovely outsourced/budget-cut economy driving us out of New York, the word 'home' has me decidedly more maudlin than usual.
I remember the day we moved to Chicago, the summer before I started 7th grade. My best girlfriend was there sobbing hysterically as we hugged goodbye. But I didn't cry; I was too devastated to show any emotion at all. There was only one thought in my head at the time: "How will I ever be able to find her, so far away?"
Moving became a way of life after that. Just as I'd get settled, the world would turn upside down, and once again I'd lose everything that was familiar to me. Five high schools in four years really does a number on a kid.
I've lived in Long Island longer than I have any other place since first moving away from Pennsylvania all those years ago. While I never felt rooted, I felt in place and I felt a sense of connectedness (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) in my husband's extremely large and loving family who live so close by.
I have a sense of real mourning as we get ready to put this house I adore on the market. (Combined with a sense of real pissed-off-edness at the fact we may be forced to do a short sale due to hopelessly falling house prices. What the fuckity fuckity fuck?)
But mostly I have a lot of sorrow and loss. I do adore it here. And no offense Ohio, but you'd have to work hard to convince me you have anything that can come close to this:
I remember the day we moved to Chicago, the summer before I started 7th grade. My best girlfriend was there sobbing hysterically as we hugged goodbye. But I didn't cry; I was too devastated to show any emotion at all. There was only one thought in my head at the time: "How will I ever be able to find her, so far away?"
Moving became a way of life after that. Just as I'd get settled, the world would turn upside down, and once again I'd lose everything that was familiar to me. Five high schools in four years really does a number on a kid.
I've lived in Long Island longer than I have any other place since first moving away from Pennsylvania all those years ago. While I never felt rooted, I felt in place and I felt a sense of connectedness (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) in my husband's extremely large and loving family who live so close by.
I have a sense of real mourning as we get ready to put this house I adore on the market. (Combined with a sense of real pissed-off-edness at the fact we may be forced to do a short sale due to hopelessly falling house prices. What the fuckity fuckity fuck?)
But mostly I have a lot of sorrow and loss. I do adore it here. And no offense Ohio, but you'd have to work hard to convince me you have anything that can come close to this:
Moving reminds me very, very much of adoption. Through no decision of my own, I lost my first home, my first family, my first identity when I was adopted. And here a lifetime away I'm losing everything I've worked hard to build, again through no decision of my own. Hope is evil but I keep holding out for a last minute miracle that can keep us here. But until then, I've got Philly plans to finalize, and it's summer here in paradise. It's finally stopped raining, my work day is done, and I'm heading for the beach.
Read more...
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