My goal with this blog is to offend everyone in the world at least once with my words… so no one has a reason to have a heightened sense of themselves. We are all ignorant, we are all found wanting, we are all bad people sometimes.
I am your poison come see how right the wrong can feel. Consume me without fear, I do not want your life. It is your mind I am after, but only for a minute. And in that minute I will strive to give you just enough truth to make the lie go down easy. We need no chaser between you and I for it is clear how this plays out. So as you damn my eyes and curse my name, speak softly as I intertwine my will into your own.
This is based upon a conversation I had with an aging Italian American who from his manners, courtesy and general bearing was once well-heeled. I shared a table with him outside of a street café in Toulouse a few years back. He was taking a short break in France at the time yet was now domiciled in Southern Italy. A pleasant enough bloke yet…
After reading this blog, I felt my mouth drop open and I gasped a little because How Dare A Man Say Women Are Crazy. I can’t even tell you all the things I want to say about what men are, and then I realized, they aren’t listening anyway, nor do they care, so why talk about them. Why would I waste my time? Yes, I am a little cynical about relationships and I tend to meet and stay with the wrong men. I do love me some banter so I had to respond.
First, I want to start with a chorus from a song I love that should explain a lot:
I’m a bitch, I’m a lover
I’m a child, I’m a mother
I’m a sinner, I’m a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I’m your hell, I’m your dream I’m…
Seasons come and go. They leave like acquaintances that never became friends. I watch them part from my second floor window. Through tears of rain and falling snow I watch them. Sometimes I long. A season of May with lavish black hair. A forgotten September who never texts me anymore. Seasons that become faces and faces that are quickly forgotten. Or at least I try to forget. I ship my regret with December as Winter rolls over me. Motivation given birth with the coming of Spring. A new season, a new attitude is given birth within me. I see them come and go. Seasons… people, they are one and the same as I blacken my calendar of life.
I read a ton of adoption articles and posts. I continuously see the words “the birth mother was so selfless in the adoption process.” I can’t swallow that. Granted some women are in a hard place and their action is what is best for them at the time, but don’t feed me the line “she was selfless.” If anything we might as well change that to “selfish” since the decision is about her. To claim the decision is about the child when that child is not yet even born yet is idiotic to me. I can’t accept that.
As an adoptee I understand the feeling of rejection that often comes with the realization that you were given up. We have TV to thank for providing a myriad of “reasons” why this takes place, but ONLY one reason is ever the “true” reason per individual. That is what many people just don’t get when they speak of adoption and adoptees. They don’t understand that hypotheticals and “what ifs” don’t mean shit to us. They just don’t and they provide zero comfort at night.
When I reflect upon my life I often wonder “what would have been” had I never gone to Korea in 2000 and found out about the existence of my birth mother and birth sister. Would the plans and dreams I had already meticulously laid out have come to fruition or would some curveball have come that would have ensured my feet landed in the exact spot I am today. Who can say? I do know that I feel very little value in the knowledge gained and in turn I carry a huge burden because of that day. That period in my life helped solidify my hatred for my birth mother. It may be a cold hate, dormant even, but it is still hatred. It flares up every time I read the words “the birth mother was selfless.” In my case she wasn’t, she was a selfish termagant.