Deal With Rockets And Dreams

The weather, I am under it today. Most of the morning, I couldn’t open my eyes. It’s not a big deal, but my patience wears thin when my body refuses to cooperate. I’d call a meeting with it but I’m sure it would hang up on me. Thus, now is the wrong time for me to notice that one of my soaps is about to step into a stinky mess. This child holding a child is the mother nearing the moment she decides to raise her baby rather than give that baby to a nearby adult. I’m neither an advocate for adoption nor a detractor. Most – not all but most – of the adults I know who were adopted are very fucked up about it. Adoption is better than foster care. Sometimes. Depends on the circumstances, the kid, the parents. But the soap saying that kids can raise kids is going too far, especially with the class issues packed – no, stuffed – into this particular scenario. It’s a bad scene, glossing over what this means in real life, like that the teenage characters are unable in any way to provide a home for themselves or the baby. So today, I shut off One Life To Live half an hour in, and I’ll come back when the show veers back to husband-stealing, underground cities and mental illness. That weirdness I can handle.

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