Thursday, April 22, 2010

Back to the Random...

I'm still stuck in "one day at a time" land. It's beginning to feel more like, "Holy shit I'm in a helluva rut and I have to figure out what I'm going to do with myself"-ville.

I could sit here and bitch about what's wrong, but that really wouldn't accomplish much. So I'll try to come up with something to talk about that's at least mildly interesting while we're all procrastinating.

A second or third cousin of my mom's got in contact with me recently. He seems like a nice enough person and he occasionally talks to me via Facebook. He's big on geneology and is apparently tracking down my maternal grandfather's family.

This kinda-sorta opens up old treasure chests of thoughts that I put away years ago because I'm adopted. It's not a Big Deal that I'm adopted. It usually means that I joke with my non-adopted sister about how she's turning into our parents more than I am(and it's fucking least to me). My parents are good people and I don't think I would've been better off had I not been adopted.

The one thing about being adopted and not having any contact/real information regarding my biological parents is that I feel like I don't look like anyone. There's no family resemblance in the world for me. For whatever reason, that's kinda a Big Deal for me. I think it comes from how pervasive it is in society when people meet siblings/parents/whatever family combo they'll say, "Ah, I can see the family resemblance!" I still get that with my sister and my dad, especially. On the surface it goes back to being funny as hell, because really? I don't look like either of them. But then...I don't look like anyone else, either. I'm alone. And that's a little overwhelming at times.

Again, that's no reflection(pun semi-intended) on my parents. I can't help my feelings, and there's nothing that can be done about them, nor is there anything to do about them.

Would I be happy if I knew what my biological parents look like? I don't know if I'd be happy, but I'd know. You know?

As long as we're reminiscing about Stuff That Won't Be Solved, I got all weirded out over this blog entry that I found about bullies.

I was ignored by bullies through most of grade school, but all of the sudden, I became a huge target for some people starting in sixth grade. It kept up through jr. high, where it's hell for just about everyone, but some choose to take it out on others in some very unpleasant ways, which makes that hell even more unbearable. I was yelled at, slapped, humiliated, had insults scrawled onto my locker in permanent marker, and was generally avoided at all costs. Good times! What's sad is that I remember a girl who had it worse...much worse than me. I wonder whatever happened to her...

Luckily in high school, I found friends who were as weird as I was, and (much to my parents' dismay) I shaved my head and had a place to hide from the assholes at my school. I don't know if my parents know what a real survival tactic that was for me.

Also, one of the original instigators of the Let's Make Sandra's Life So Ugly She Should Crawl Under a Rock and Die club dropped out in tenth grade to go work at the local Burger King. I wonder whatever happened to her, too.

I've had a couple of people from my Woodland days contact me through Facebook. They weren't my tormentors, so I've friended them. No biggie.

The paragraph from the Lessons my Bullies Taught Me blog that really, really got to me was this:

Since I'm eviscerating myself in public here, I'll tell you the truth: it's still my dominant feeling. When I am with people, no matter where I go (even online), I expect to be rejected. I assume that you will hate me, that you will seek to avoid me, that you hope I won't bother you by trying to talk to you. Every expression of acceptance is a surprise to me. I want people to be nice to me, but I never expect it. I expect people to reject me; I hope they will leave me alone. Niceness doesn't really factor into any of that.

I hate that I feel that way still, even with derby in my life, at my advanced age. How does one get over that? I don't know.

It makes me glad I don't have kids, because despite my own experiences being bullied, I wouldn't know how to help my kids if they got bullied. I don't have to worry about my cat being bullied...he kinda likes it.

Anyway, that's my time-wasting blog entry of the week for me. Back to "work"...


Randall said...

I actually went to an art school where I would often joke that the reason so few of the kids get along, is because they were all rejected and beat up in high school. It wasn't entirely a joke.

I hope this isn't overstepping, but I know one or two adopted children, and from my own experiences with my stepfather, I know that sometimes these resemblances do pop up, even though they are technically impossible. It always reminded me of this passage from the Hagakure, which said a child, even one not of your own line, if treated as such, would come to resemble the father.

Just what I thought. I enjoy your blog, by the way. I haven't been reading long, but it's always nice to see when a new post goes up. I really like your work.

RedDiabla said...


Yeah, artists tend to be a rejected lot in their formative sure would explain our weirdness when we get older! :D

I'm fascinated with nature vs. nurture when it comes to families. Those stories where twins get adopted out to separate families, find each other, and then discover eerie similarities are really interesting!

Randall said...

I think a lot of it goes to people trying find those like-minded, or similar individuals they can connect to. I know I sometimes wonder if a lot of my interest in how we come to be the way we are is rooted in trying to make connections with people -- like if I understood how I got this way, I could use that to find others I could get along with/find interesting.

Bronnie said...

I was made emotional mincemeat out of in 7th and 8th grade..I mean torture-- Not physical, but you know the stuff..the kind that really makes you consider suicide as a kid ...Oddly--More than 40 years have passed,the anger subsided somehow, and I find myself FB 'friends' with two of the meanest grrls from that time..(more out of curiously than anything else)..They seem nice enough now.. But was there any karmic payback for said cruelty with lousy lives ,gross misfortune or midriff bulge? Fuck no!! One's living in Tuscany with her perfect husband and 2 perfect daughters..the other(who was a rich movie exec's daughter to begin with) lives locally in a huge house in the 'hills', with her perfect husband of 30 years and brags about her 2 perfect sons..They're both thin-- but I think one is Botoxed.

Cagey said...

Reading your blog, and then the one you linked to, reminds me again that my goal of working with fucked-up adolescents is the right path for me. I made that decision when I was 14 and miserable, forgot it, came back to dedicated to it.

Fantastikate said...

And here I thought I was the only one. Glad to see there are three of us. Wonder if it is the hair.