Friday, July 31, 2009

"Yes, but what about your REAL parents?"

Those of you familiar with six-year-old Shannon know that I was a precocious child. That is to say, much more of a smart-ass than someone at that age has any right to be. Those of you who met me, say, 20 years later, I’m sure you can only imagine. I used to explain words to adults that I had just learned, thinking that, since I had previously been unaware of their existence, there were probably others out there in the same boat. Thus you would find me saying things to people about eight times my age like “This says EXPIRATION DATE. Do you know what an EXPIRATION DATE is?” And then, of course, I would explain to them what it meant. (The irony is that expiration dates now mean nothing to me, my boyfriend frequently asking things such as “Babe? Are these the eggs you just ate? They expired last week.” Whatever. They didn’t HATCH, did they? Then they’re ok. Sheesh.)

Anyway. When I entered into Kindegarten and First Grade, that meant interacting with a whole new social group, and lots of kids had questions about me being adopted. Of course they all KNEW I was adopted because I loved to offer up this information. I had learned quickly from reading books about superheros that superheros were either orphans (Batman and Robin) or came from some mysterious birth (Wonder Woman) or were, like me, adopted (Superman). I had not yet read Joseph Campbells “Hero with 1000 Faces” (actually I still haven’t, but that doesn’t mean I can’t talk about it at parties) which explains that the first step of any Hero’s Journey is that the Hero must have an unusual birth. Though I liked the idea of being sculped by an Amazon goddess and magically brought to life like Wonder Woman, and I also enjoyed wearing my Wonder Woman underwear around the house as if it were an outfit, I identified most with Superman.

For those of you who weren’t at Comicon last week, Superman was originally named Kal-el to Jor-el and some chick with an equally dorky name on the planet Krypton. Something bad happened to Krypton, like shit blowing up type bad, and, much like Moses, Jor-el and wife sent lil Kal-el in a magical space-basket to Earth, where he was found by Ma and Pa Kent. Ma and Pa Kent raise him as their own, try to keep it a secret from him that he’s a space alien, but then one day he starts flying and stuff and you guys know the rest.

It always seemed pretty obvious to me that Superman loved Ma and Pa Kent very much and thought of them as his parents. So it confused me, as six-year-old Shannon, when people asked me if I knew who my “real” parents were. Granted, these were other six-year-olds conversing with me so their vernacular was a little limited at the time, but I never missed the opportunity to give them my smart-ass answer: “Of course. I LIVE with them. DUH.”

It was always just a “duh” to me. I realize that not all adopted children were so lucky. I know some weren’t treated like “real” children or given all the love and Pontiac Sunfires they could ever need. I know that some adopted kids have been neglected, or made to feel less important than their brothers and sisters who are “natural children” of their parents. Not me, man. As early as I could remember, my parents had told me “Kelly” (my sister) “came from mommy’s tummy and you came from another lady’s tummy.” I was like, ok, that works. It made sense. And it was just one more think that made me different and special, so I wore it like a badge of honor.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not curious. Even superman went to his secret ice-cave and talked to the disembodied head of Marlon Brando. I still need to find my own disembodied head of Marlon Brando.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Book Reviews by...Oh, look, a ladybug!

Summer is a great time for leisure reading. Whether it’s by the pool, on the beach, or on the 2’x2’ slab of concrete next to the dumpster behind my house, it just feels right. Here are some great summer reads to suit everyone’s taste:*


The Castaways: A Novel Hardcover by Elin Hilderbrand
Hilderbrand has a sort of whimsy to her writing that is at the same time clever and nostalgic, without ever being saccharine. Her imagery takes the reader to a simpler time. I couldn’t help but think of this one time, when my grandparents took me on this vacation in their motor home and the motor home was SO COOL especially, like if you were a little kid because it had bears ALL OVER it. Like, the seats all had these latch-hook seat covers shaped like bears and the pillows were bear heads and all of the corners of the cupboards or anything you could hit your head on had these little Koala Bears stuck to them with Velcro and I loved to take them down and play with them. I told my grandma that Koala Bears weren’t real bears, like Panda Bears, but she didn’t mind that I was a know-it-all because that’s just how grandma’s roll, you know?


Burn: A Novel
Linda Howard
Though Howard sets up a promising premise, the reader is left adrift sorting through the author’s web of loose ends. This is probably because the reader stopped reading at page 20 and started playing Bubbletown on Facebook.


Black Hills
Nora Roberts
Roberts is a master of both suspense and romance. Once again, in Black Hills, she does not disappoint. For example, page 82 has a really hot sex scene. Page 134 too. And, even though they don’t go all the way, I highly recommend pages 37, 46, 98, and 113. The rest of the book is probably good too but I couldn’t tell ya.


Why the Devil Chose New England for His Work
Short Stories by Jason Brown
This book has a really pretty cover. I think that people are really impressed when they see this book on my bookshelf because the title is so enigmatic and pretentious.


*I did not actually read any of these books so please don’t NOT read any of them because of anything I said here.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

You Know Something Big Has Happened When I'm Speechless

Holy crap, guys, holy crap. Holy crap sunday with an OMG cherry on top.

Today I learned the first names of my biological parents.

Yeah. I know. Big. Super big.

For those that don't know or weren't paying attention when I told you, I'm adopted. I hired a person called a "confidential intermediary" back in December. Her name is Judith and she's an adoptee too, I think. What she does is submits an application to the through which my adoption was processed asking that my file be unsealed. (Yes, I totally imagine it being in a back room in a crate a'la the arc of the covenant in Raiders of the Lost Arc.) She gets to see all the information and will try to locate them.

So, it's taken a while, but my file was just opened. And apparently, she is allowed to tell me their first names, which I was TOTALLY not expecting. Actually, I don't think I was ever expecting any of this to ACTUALLY happen. I'm still in a tizzy about it. I'm not going to post the names here because I'm not sure I'm ready to share with the whole wide world this new information, and also, it won't mean anything really to anyone but me so I'd like to keep it important and secret. I'll probably share eventually but right now I'm going to keep it wrapped up like a puppy in a towel in a shoebox (with holes poked in the lid, of course).

But wow - they're, like, real people! They have names! They exist! (Or, at least they did, hopefully both are still around and kicking.) I knew it was going to be a huge deal when I found out, but I was still so unprepared for how it would make me feel. I started laughing and crying at the same time when I read the email. It was a wonderful surprise. I have a feeling it's just the first of many surprises on what is going to be a fascinating and emotional journey.

Yes, I have lots of questions. Lots and lots. And yes, I'll be taking notes. Please forgive me if the ADHD blog gets hijacked for a while and becomes the Adoption Reunion blog. I have a feeling none of you will mind. :)

Monday, July 27, 2009

Je ne blog pa

Sorry, no real post today. In lieu of real post, please meditate on the following interesting items:

-Our neighbors have a fruit tree in their front yard. I only ever see the fruit when it is small and green on the tree or big, yellow orbs, rotting on the ground. I wish I knew what sort of fruit it was.

-I gave my dog a bath last night and he doesn't necessarily smell good but he doesn't smell bad and I've caught myself smelling him several times tonight just to enjoy the not-bad smell.

-Last, and perhaps most exciting, I learned today that, when I order a coffee at work, and, for some reason this is only a medium coffee, when my barista rings me up and he chooses "small coffee" from the computer menu, it gives him the option to "add cheese."

Friday, July 24, 2009

Land of the Lost

At any given time, there are usually 2 or 3 items I cannot use because they are "somewhere in my apartment." Repeat offenders (as if it's their fault and not the crazy lady who puts chicken in the knife drawer)include sunglasses, phones, credit cards (I don't know how this happens), hairbrushes, and items of clothing. Most of the time they "turn back up" at some point, which is why I'll say something nonchalantly like "Oh, yeah, sorry, can't go to the movies right now; I can't find my credit card." When the person I'm speaking to gasps in horror, I have to explain that it happens from time to time, that I'm like 99% sure it's in my apartment somewhere, and that I PROMISE to cancel the card if I don't find it in a few days. Of course, every time I've cancelled a card, it magically appears 48 hours later.

I used to tear my apartment up looking for things, and occasionally still will if it's something I need urgently or if I'm just in one of those "I can't stop 'till I find it" moods. People around me love these moods. Usually, these days, I adopt sort of a zen approach, which is "it'll turn up, eventually. It's as if the apartment is using it, and it will return the item when it is done with it. Perhaps the universe is witholding the items from me because I need to learn some sort of lesson (Usually "hey, lady, put your damn keys in the same place every day. Thank you. Signed, the universe.") I'm not a supersticious person but there does seem to be some magic attached to the items, because I can only find them when I am looking for something else.

At the current moment, I cannot find a) my wine opener, b) my headphones, or c) the cord that attaches my iPod to my computer. The somewhat frustrating thing about these items, besides the fact that drinking wine and listning to my iPod are both things very important to my overall wellbeing, is that I own at least TWO of each of these items. So there are two wine openers, two sets of headphones, and two iPod cords hiding somewhere in my actually quite small apartment. Yes, sometimes I even amaze myself.

Oh, and by the way, my iTunes gift card is not technically "lost" because I haven't tried looking for it yet, despite what my boyfriend might tell you.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

A Brief Reenactment of my Relationship with Jack FM

For those of you who live outside of LA, Jack FM (93.1) is a station that's been around a few years. I think a lot of other cities have something similar. Their "format," if you will, is "Playing what we want." As if there's a bunch of disgruntled peeps sitting around in a room saying to one another "hey, let's just say WTF and play THIS! Wow, that'll really blow people's minds!" But really, it's a mix of top 40 hits from the 80s and 90s along with some popular stuff from today and some strange oldies.

Here is a recreation of the rise and fall of esteem I once held for Jack FM:

Oh, wow, "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" by Tears for Fears. It's always good to hear a Tears for Fears song.

Wow, "Smells Like Teen Spirit," following Tears for Fears? That just blows my mind! That's cool that they'd play that back to back.

Ok, "Hotel California." I haven't heard that yet this year. That's my one Hotel California listen this year.

Hmmm, Goo Good Dolls. They suck. Oh well, I guess there's something for everyone here.

THE NEXT DAY

Hey, Tears for Fears again! They're neat.

Hey, another Nirvana song! Rad. Kurt was such a visionary.

Really? Hotel California? Again? Someone there must really like this station.

Wow, more Goo Goo Dolls, huh? Hmmm.

THE NEXT DAY

I am so sad that I hate Tears for Fears now.

You people don't deserve to play Nirvana.

LA LA LA LA You can check out any time you want, but you can never leave, LA LA LA LA LA

Baby's Black Balloon? What does that even mean?

Ok, that's it. What's playing on K Jazz?

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Random Thought for the Day

As if I have thoughts that aren't random.

I was just thinking of this as I walked to work this morning. When I was 19 or 20, I had to go to the doctor to get a physical in order to be a camp counselor that summer. The doctor examined me, asked me some questions, and then recorded his summation of my health into his little hand-held recorder. It was the standard "Subject is 19 year old female, blood pressure is blah blah blah" etc. Then he says "subject is of a cheerful disposition but is mildly overweight." He says, into his recorder, in FRONT of me, that I'm mildly overweight, but does not at any time say "Hey, btw, you might want to think of losing a few pounds.

Isn't that weird? Don't know why I just thought of that today.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

One-sided conversations I have with my Dog

Please don’t bark so loud, sweetie, mommy has a hangover.

What is that? What’s in your mouth? Give it! Give it! Ew, it’s squishy… you can keep it.

Mmmm, mommy’s ice cream is so yummy! Mmmmm, it’s delicious NO DON’T EAT THAT! STOP! STOP!

Yeah? Yeah? You wanna come in the bathroom with mommy? Ok. Yeah? You wanna go out? Ok. Yeah? Yeah? You wanna come in?

Please don’t stand on mommy’s hair, sweetie. Mommy has to get out of bed.

No no, people can see mommy’s underwear when you do that.

What is that? What are you eating? Is that your leg? Why would you want to eat your leg? Stop! Stop!

Do you know how many human males wish they could do what you’re doing right now?

Please don’t lick mommy’s mouth. Thank you.

Please don’t lick mommy’s nostril. Thank you.

Please don’t lick mommy’s eyeball. Thank you.

What? What do you want? Use your words! Oh, that’s right, you CAN’T, wah hahahahahha.

EWWWW you have some big eye boogers. Come here. Let me get that. Look at that – OH MY GOD, why would you eat that?

No, sweetie, we can’t poop there or we’ll get yelled at in Russian.