Gaga for Gaga

I know, it’s trite. But it’s true.

And I really didn’t want to like her at first. I would get angry when the dreaded earworm, Poker Face, got stuck in my head. I thought she came out of no where and was just another no-talent packed pop princess. Then I was cleaning The Boy’s room one day and the Poker Face came on. I was so focused on the task at home, I didn’t realize I was singing and dancing and before I knew it the song was over and I wanted to hear it again. And again.

That’s when I acknowledged that Poker Face was a great pop song.

I was still poking fun at it though.

Then one day I happened upon a link to Lady Gaga performing live, acoustic, ridiculous elephant on her head. Sure the head-dress was distracting but not enough for me to notice that she could really play that piano (with a compelling level of drama, I might add) and she could actually sing.

That’s when I admitted she was talented.

Combine talent and great pop music and what do you get? An entertainer. Toss in a little media savvy, crazy costumes and escalating eccentricity (I really think she has an more tame alter ego) and there is the story of Lady Gaga’s claim to fame.

The question remains, will Gaga be able to maintain the level of constant buzz and relevance that she has over the last two years? Let’s be real, how may artists–pop or otherwise–can you name that have had real staying power over the last decade? They are few and far between for sure. Even some of the most influential of the artists I grew up on have disappeared, had public melt downs or really need to just let it go. Perhaps the one who stayed on top the longest, without appearing to crash-and-burn or try too hard, was Madonna.

I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to make that kind of comparison. It’s no secret Madonna was always able to manipulate the media and reinvent herself for the times. She has always seemed poised and in complete control. You can argue that she’s probably a Queen-B who rules her circle of influence with an iron fist, I say she’s a shrewd business woman.

The only way for Gaga to sustain a long career arch, is to grow. That doesn’t mean continue to grow weird–in fact I think its quite the opposite. The weird will only take her so far; talent and savvy could take her all the way. If she can successfully transfer our focus from her eccentricity to her talent, Gaga could well be around 10 years from now with no sign of being toppled from her throne.

Tags: Lady Gaga, Music, Pop Music

Love is all there is

A while ago I posted a link on Facebook about Christian singer Jennifer Knapp returning to music and coming out. My only comment to start was that I thought the decision might raise some ire, then someone asked me for more specific thoughts, at which point I obliged.

It didn’t take long before a friend of mine, a former church mate and devout Christian, also commented. She started out with something to the effect that it’s dangerous to “think” because our thoughts are not God’s thoughts and we are supposed to be transformed through the renewing of our minds. She went on to talk about sin and salvation and how our love is not the same as God’s love and that the only thing that matters is what God’s word (the Bible) tells us is right. It was apparent in her tone that she believed she was correct and that by virtue of my disagreeing with her, I would suffer some punishment when all is said and done.

As a Christian, I used to find it hard to reconcile this idea that we are not supposed to think for ourselves and that we were to be dependent on a preacher to interpret the Bible. And while I’ve been in quite a few churches that tout the verse “study to show yourself approved,” in practice, the premise of most has been to condemn anyone who actually took this scripture to heart and interpreted the Bible any differently than the majority.

This is actually a large part of why I have chosen not attend a traditional Christian church. Some of my friends call it a “heathen hippie gathering”, I call it spiritual fellowship. People from different walks of life come together to be inspired by spiritual leaders willing to give the gift of their wisdom without judgment.

One thing I’ve been sort of thinking about was my friend’s statement that we will be held accountable for the information we share with others. Maybe this was my indoctrination tugging at me but I felt as though she accused me of turning my back on God. I know she meant it all in love, so I simply thanked her for the discussion, but decided it best not to engage any further.

It’s impossible to explain the concept of love–the ultimate law–to a person so focused on taking the bible literally, who believes that anyone who disagrees with suffer the wrath of God and the only way to see “heaven” (whatever your interpretation may be) is through Christian salvation. There are many ways to experience God and millions of people all over the world who don’t even understand our Americanized version of Christianity (case in point: my Irish boyfriend with whom I can’t even have a discussion about religion because his frame of reference is Catholics vs Protestants).

The only thing that makes sense to me (someone who grew up in the church, went two to three times a week until I was a teenager and then again as a young adult, who was indoctrinated and found a different path) is that when all is said and done, the only thing that matters is love. If there was nothing else we were to take from Jesus it was that love covers a multitude of sins and we were not to assume we know better and are better than anyone else. We are to treat people with love and through our demonstration of love, people will see the God within. In fact–we are taught–God is love.

So if God is love and God is all there is, then love is all there is.

Some people will never understand this concept, which is fine. I don’t need others to understand, but based on my understanding, I will always try to act in love. I will do my best to treat myself, my kids, my neighbors and strangers on the street with love, because that was the ultimate lesson in Christ’s sacrifice.

Love is all there is. Walking in this level of love has taught me the true meaning of unconditional love. It’s the kind of love that leaves everyone space to be themselves and the strength to truly forgive. Love leaves us to work on our own lives, faith, livelihood and development of gifts without worrying about what others are doing. Walking in love leaves us to be beacons of light in an often dark world.

The choice is easy and every time I will choose love. Because what else is there?

Tags: Christianity, Introspection, Love, Reflection, Spirituality

Teachers save lives, these are the ones who saved mine

Yesterday I wrote about bullying and raising confident kids and this morning I got an email from the Freedom Writers Foundation: “Teachers Save Lives.”

In another lifetime I might have rolled my eyes but I can honestly say that there are a couple of teachers who saved my life. There was Mr. Christianson, a substitute teacher I had in the 5th grade who made math fun. I was struggling and most of the year I got Ds on the math tests. Mr. Christianson helped me get a B. And it was the best B I ever earned.

There was Mrs. Levine, the edgy 7th grade English teacher who introduced me to Daniel Steel. She had a book rack next to her desk and we were to always have a book “checked out”–a book of Mrs. Levine’s choosing. She’s sit with her feet kicked up on the desk, spin the book rack slowly and study the books pensively. You knew she’s made a choice when she stopped spinning and took her feet off of the desk and pull the book from the rack.

“This is a little edgy,” she said. “There are adult themes.” She held to book out and then took it back again. “I think you can handle it.”

She handed me the book and shooed me away. When I read the first sex scene (probably not far into the book) I was a little surprised. The choice of Daniel Steel was perfect because the language was simple, but it was more mature than Baby-Sitters Club (which I’m pretty sure I read every book in the series AND Baby-Sitters Club Baby Sisters). It was time for more mature content. I moved on from Daniel Steel pretty quickly but Steel was definitely a gateway to mystery, romance and fantasy books.

There was Cheri Swatek, my high school swimming coach. I was ditching classes and skipping practice and she gave me a choice. I could either keep ditching and skipping or I could be on the swim team. I couldn’t do both. I had to commit. Swimming was about the only thing I really cared about at that time, so I chose swimming. Of course that also meant not ditching (or ditching less…what? Just sayin’) and not missing a single practice. I also had to maintain at least a C average and I could do that in my sleep (a lot of the time I did).

I wanted to swim, I chose to stay engaged in school. That’s what Cheri gave me.

Erin Gruwell, the ultimate mentor and founder of the Freedom Writer’s Foundation, also saved my life. I laugh now, thinking about it because I was in denial about it for a while. Maybe it’s because I feel like my biggest change took place later than others, I don’t know. I know that Erin taught me what Do or Die meant. She taught me to take leaps of faith and know that I could make myself, through my choices. I had only to choose my path and then walk it; against all odds. And when it seemed like my dream of being the first in my family to graduate from college was slipping away, Erin gave me a lifeline.

That lifeline was the Freedom Writer’s Diary (which I co-authored and edited) and a full scholarship (tuition, books, bus passes, learning disability assessment, counseling, tutoring) to Cal State Long Beach (GO BEACH). College was the most amazing start to the rest of my life, one of the best gifts I’ve ever received and one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

I remember riding in Erin’s car one day and she said to me, “Kimberlee, you are going to become the poster child for the successful-person-post-teen-aged pregnancy.” At the time, I laughed it off because it made me uncomfortable and my brain painted a literal picture (with my face on a poster). She wasn’t talking about a poster though. She was talking about my success. I was so close to a goal that for a while, seemed so impossible (especially while rolling pennies at a gas station).

And Erin kicked my ass all the way there.

There was a time when I thought my story wasn’t “tragic” enough to be told. So many of the other Freedom Writer stories are about being abused, addicted, suicidal…I thought the life saving wasn’t literal enough. But no, these teachers literally (Erin and Cheri in particular) saved my life and all by teaching me the value of the choices I made.

This is what happens when teachers are engaged with the education of their students. It happens when there’s enough flexibility that each teacher can shape their students with genuine interaction and experiential learning. And for teachers who need ridged rules and procedures, there’s flexibility enough for that too. Teachers save lives when they are engaged and they care.

It’s what Erin did and teaches other teachers to do in the Freedom Writer Teacher Institute. Together, Erin, the Freedom Writers and the Freedom Writers Foundation have developed a methodology that has changed lives around the country. The foundation and the Institute are rays of light in what often seems like a bleak educational landscape.

Which brings me to my final point: I’d like you make a donation to the Freedom Writers Foundation, in support of the cause I have dedicated so much of my life to: education. All I’m asking is a $5 donation toward programs that inspire teachers and provides them the tools to make a real difference in the lives of their students.

Did a teacher save your life? Share your story in the comments.

Tags: Education, Introspection, Reflections, teachers

Bullying, safety and the necessity for raising confident kids

I like to avoid the tragic news about kids being hurt, abused, abducted, hurting themselves…Too much of that makes you want to lock your kid in a tower, never to be harmed by the outside world. But I’ve been asked a few times what I thought about Phoebe Prince’s suicide and the bullies accused of pushed her to it. So I’ve been stewing.

And I’m of two minds.

The first says that I’m not sympathetic to the idea of anyone killing themselves because they were bullied. Who hasn’t been other than the bully who was probably bullied by someone too. I was bullied, mocked and made fun of at various times during my schooling. I know what it’s like to be mortified and wishing you could hide from your tormentors. To feel like dread at the thought of going to school…And maybe with the “always on” culture we have, its harder to get away from the bully noise (but I don’t really buy that either).

Thing is that there have been bullies since the beginning of time and the bully is no more the cause of a suicide than a cardiac arrest is a cause of death. There are obviously bigger reasons here for Prince’s being suicidal; bullying perhaps the final stressor.

My other mind says that the bullies should definitely be held accountable for what they did. And so should the school admins who did nothing. They tell kids not to fight, have zero tolerance policies for the stupidest things and make every adult who graces the school campus for any length of time undergo a background check and then fail to protect them from a very real, internal threat.

It may not be a threat like being kidnapped, but bullying is hurtful and some cases (maybe Prince’s case was one such cases), bullying can be quite severe. It’s also no secret when it’s going on. Students and staff turn a blind eye and for meeker, more sensitive kids, the affects of bullying can be traumatizing.

I never told my mom I was being bullied. Maybe I was more resilient than others. Maybe mine wasn’t a severe case. But when The Boy told me there was a group of kids at his elementary school picking on him and he told me that the yard lady (as they call them) responded “it happens” I was a little irritated. If he had told me more than the little girl kicked him and they said things like “you think you’re cool” (all of which point to a schoolyard crush and/or jealous kids), I might have been more inclined to inquiring about more details. So I told the boy the girl probably thought he was cute and to kick her back next time.

That’s right. Kick her back. If you hit, you get hit back. And if the adults aren’t going to do anything, I think its more than fair for the kids to defend themselves within reason, and kicking a girl back after she’s kicked you every day for weeks, is definitely within reason.

The schools can’t have it both ways: don’t defend yourself but we won’t defend you either. Of course we don’t want them brawling every day, but kids also have to learn to work out their own schoolyard conflicts sometimes. It teaches them to protect themselves even if it means never actually having to fight anyone because they develop a sharp tongue and a quick wit (like I did ).

Learning to manage conflict also increases confidence. My eldest boy (The Kid) was pushed off of the monkey bars once. He hit his head really hard and had a stiff neck for a week or two. For a while he was afraid of the playground. He ate lunch in the classroom with his teacher and waited there to be picked up after school.

I told him that he had as much a right to play on the playground as that kid who pushed him and if he kept hiding he’d set a pattern of hiding and instead of facing his fear. About a week later I found The Kid playing out in the open. When I mentioned it, he grinned and told me he wasn’t worried about the bully anymore because he’d cornered him and beat him up. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be bothered again.

The Kid looked so proud and confident. He was holding his head up and smiling like I hadn’t seen him smile in a long time. In my mind I thought I should tell The Kid what he’d done was wrong. But he had gotten tired of hiding and faced down his bully the best way he knew how. And he wasn’t afraid anymore. Who was I to tell him that was wrong?

I guess I say all this to say that we all share responsibility and more severe cases: the parents, the teachers and school administrators, the classmates, the bullies and the kids being bullied.

Tags: bullies, current events, Jamie Prince, opinion

How being more food conscious has improved my quality of life

I’ve found myself recently hyper aware of my choices relating to food. This shift in thinking was gradual. I went from the boy looking at me with shock asking “Why would you cook?” to him practically begging me to get take out sometimes.

How did this shift take place?

I’d say in phases actually.

It started with me deciding that I was spending entirely too much money on take out. I was buying lunch everyday and getting take out or dinner most nights. I decided to test the cost of just grocery shopping against the cost of the take out meals. Of course, grocery shopping won out.

Then I saw the documentary The Future of Food. It focused largely on the effects of genetically modified food on the international food system. And I watched The Story of Stuff which talked about the high cost of consumer culture. Combined these got me to thinking more and more about sustainable living and really being conscious about how my consumer choices affect the larger system.

I also started thinking about my health, how the food I eat, affects my health and started buying more and more fresh (as opposed to prepackaged or frozen) foods. I started to notice that often when something had the lowest price, high fructose corn syrup was often the first ingredient. Either that or the quality of the product was seriously lacking in some way. I began to taste the difference between good quality, nourishing foods and foods that were just plain cheap and packed with lord knows what filler.

I began increasing my fruit and veggie intake; actually starting with the produce rather than the carbs and dairy products. I started looking at the ingredients and where the foods were coming from. The later actually led to an interesting and frustrating discovery. For all of the illusion of choice in our mega grocery stores, much of the products on the selves come from the same groups of companies.

Why does any store need four varieties of tortilla chips all from Texas, all from the Frito Lay company? Why is it that there are 5 “brands” of cat food, they’re all still Purina? Where is the choice in that? Three different types of milk: Alta Dena, Knudsen, Store brand; all owned by Dean Foods (a giant that has the American dairy industry locked down but has various brands all over the country for local production).

It was beyond frustrating.

And then I watched Food Inc. and became even more aware of the affects of corporatized food on the health of me and my family. I also feel slightly helpless to change it.

I mean, if the only brown rice in the store comes from Illinois and all the tortilla chips come from Texas and the breads from Mass and the apple sauce from Maine, how can I eat more locally (and thus more sustainably) without having to traipse all over the city for groceries? I tried gardening but its hard with apartment living and a black thumb (seriously, every plant I’ve had died very shortly after being re-potted). I can go to the tortillaria for tortilla chips but where do I go to get fresh baked bread or rice that doesn’t have to travel across the country?

Its a hard question, especially when the answer is deceptively simple: work a little harder to find the type of food I want.

You see, consumerism is also driven by laziness. We want things to be convenient. We don’t want to have to spend an hour preparing dinner after working all day so we throw some corn dogs in the oven or stop at a drive thru. We don’t want to have to go to four different stores so we opt for the convenient one stop shopping and deception of choice in the grocery stores.

But that convenience comes at a price; be it the cost of an over grown agribusiness dominated by factory farms or unintended environmental and ecological consequences. All of our laziness comes at a price and provides us little benefit. We carry the burden of this cost while the people who own the big food labels (not necessarily the farmers who run the factories) make money off of our consumer desire for convenience.

The truth is that since I started paying attention…since my consciousness began to increase, so has my quality of life. I don’t need it to be easy. I’ve begun enjoying the process of preparing meals and even sit at the table and have dinner with the boy on a regular basis. I feel the difference in my energy level and I’m healthier overall.

So the way I see it, trading convenience for an improved quality of life and dinner with my boy every night is totally worth it.

What would make the loss of convenience worth it for you?

Tags: Down With Consumerism, Food, Health, Quality of Life, Sustainability

My first bus/bike to work day!

Today was my first bus/bike to work day and it was kinda AWESOME.

I found a route that didn’t require me to get a sitter in the morning; so the boy and I left the house at the same time. The school doesn’t allow scooters on campus, so until I get him his own bike (and yes, that will be soon), he has to hop on with me. He spent much of his ride going “Ooooh…watch out, watch out” because he was afraid I would hit something or “ouch!” because the crotch bar was hitting him in…well…the crotch (that is until he figured out to sit on his backpack). And since my bus stop is at the same corner I usually drop him off to walk to school, we just parted ways there.

I felt like an old pro in the morning. I confidently threw my bike on the rack, flashed the driver my pass and found a seat. I could have transferred but since my connection wasn’t supposed to arrive for 20 minutes, I hopped on my bike and got on my merry way.

The air was crisp, the traffic was light and alert and the sun was lovely. There were bike lines all the way from the connection stop to the office and I probably made it to the office before the bus ever arrived at the stop. I didn’t even break a sweat until I hit the major intersection just before the office corporate park (thank you yoga & pilates!).

At the end of the day, I walked out with a coworker who also takes the bus. He got on his route and mine arrived a few minutes later. And boy was I clumsy about the whole thing.

Maybe it was just the bus driver being helpful but he treated me like it was my first time riding the bus. I couldn’t get the bike rack down and once I got it down, I struggled to get my bike on. He actually got out of his seat to show me how to do it. When I got on the bus, he showed me that I had to activate and swipe my pass (why the other bus driver didn’t say anything, I’ll never know). As we got on the road, he informed me that if the bike rack was full, I’d either have to wait for another bus or lock my bike and leave it (which explains the occasional bike left at the bus stop). Neither sounded like agreeable options, but whatareyagonnado?

Exited the bus to find my stop caticorner to the bike shop but since the YMCA had a closing time, I decided it best to pick up the boy first. We headed over to the bike shop where I had the cruiser fitted with a basket and got myself a helmet. It’s a little dorky looking but better safe than sorry. Besides, its practice for when I get my motorcycle.

I was already tired when we left the bike shop but then it was time to make the ride home. It wasn’t that it was far (because it wasn’t), it was the helmet in the basket, the bumps hurting the boy’s testicles, my purse sliding off my arm and my skirt billowing behind me (oh shut up, I had on yoga pants under). We had to stop like four times to get adjusted but once we did, we had a fun and quick ride home.

The whole experience was great and when I do get my car, I’ll probably still use my bike a lot.

I <3 my new bike. I also love the fact that riding every day enables me to keep getting regular exercise while I get where I need to go.

I wonder if I’ll be saying the same thing at the end of the week.

Tags: bus/bike to work, epic, I did it, Work/Life Balance

Just another day, right?

After the car incident, I spent much of the weekend planning and making arrangements. I got a bicycle and a bus pass and I’ll be on public transpo until I save up for a decent used car (not one of those buckets I used to get that cost more money to keep running than it did to actually purchase).

But the boy has been sick the last couple days so I haven’t had time to put my plan into action. It’s a pretty solid plan though, so I’m not worried.

In fact, I’m a little excited. I know, I know. It’s weird. But I don’t have to deal with the stress of traffic and I’ll be able to read a book. Taking the bus means that I’ll be either walking or riding most places which also means I’ll be active.

Sure a car would be more convenient, but right now, I gotta do what I gotta do. So tonight, I made lunches and laid out clothes for tomorrow. For in the morning, all we’ll have time for is washing our faces, brushing our teeth, getting dressed and walking out the door.

Just another day, right?

Tags: FML, Just Trying to Stay Positive, Public Transpo Adventures, Shit Happens

Boy does this feel like failure

Today my car was repossessed.

There, I said it.

I feel it. I feel the judgment. I know you have questions.

Guess what. More than embarrassed about my car being repossessed, I’m embarrassed by the how and why.

Before the was Entrepreneur Media to call my employment home, there was Know More Media. It was the bestest job a fledgling college grad chomping at the bit for a publishing gig could ask for…But…as so many startups do, Know More Media went under and with its collapse, I was unemployed for 6 months. No savings, just a cheap apartment, a laptop and a car that got me around town.

With a note bigger than the rent on my cheap apartment.

And I missed a few payments.

When I finally did get a job, it was always about playing financial catchup. Nothing ever got paid on time and my checking account is almost always in the negative before the next pay check comes.

Sure my life is dramatically different: more money, reliable transportation, a great deal an a cute place, kid in a good school. Single mom living the life.

But sometimes getting bills paid is fucking hard.

And sometimes I have to make choices where neither option is desirable. Pay the electricity bill or the phone bill. Pay the rent or be evicted. Pay the cable/internet bill or put gas in my car. Pay the car note or get food.

These are the choices I face.

And I want to get to a place where I’m not scraping for the basics and ends still not meeting. I’ve been entertaining various ways to make that happen and honestly the only one that seems remotely appealing is working more. Busting my butt until I’m drawing from a steady stream of freelance projects to be in business. The kind of business that can provide a nice life for me and my kids.

So yeah, my car got repossessed. Shit happens. I’ll get over it and get another after I save the cash. I’ll start seeing what kind of support system I have out here, where I really feel like I’m isolated and alone (Not the big bad world silly, just in the new city. I’ve only been here a year). I’m really hoping one of the parents around here will let the boy hang out with their kid in the morning because I have to leave so early to get on the bus. Last resort, I’ll give him a key and teach him to get himself out of the house in the morning.

You do what you have to do right?

I’ll get all my ducks in a row this weekend and starting Monday, I’m on public transportation.

I’m really worried about how my grandmother will get her medicine until I have a car again.

Tags: Financial Messiness, FML, Money Problems, Shit Happens

A free-range scare…

Its important to me to allow the boy space to explore and go to his friend’s houses. Most of the time my allowing him a long leash works out pretty well for both of us. Unfortunately, there’s the occasional snaffu. Earlier this week, someone stole the boy’s scooter and tonight he was out well past dark and I started to worry.

Now, I wasn’t really worried someone would take him. Reading the Free-Range Kids Blog has taught me that such fear is rather irrational. But as the time ticked by and there was no sign of the boy, the irrational panic started to creep up on me anyway.

Shit, I thought, I only have two phone numbers and he at least four friends around the way. I was kind of uncomfortable about knocking on doors because, well, what if the other parents judged me for letting my kid roam around the neighborhood? Bed time was approaching at an alarming rate (probably because the boy was out WAY past dark) and I was starting to freak out. I called one friend, the one who was probably the least free-range, and of course, the boy wasn’t there because they didn’t allow visitors after 5 PM during the week. I had to try though.

As I started walking around the neighborhood, I realized that there were only two houses I knew for sure he might be. So I knocked on the other. There were two kids there who didn’t belong, neither of which was my boy. I went back home. There was no way I was just going to knock on random doors. To me, that meant panic and I was not going to panic.

I decided to walk around a little bit more trying to recognize some of the houses the boy had shown me. It was dark and I just couldn’t remember. I headed back to the house where his friends were (probably also well past curfew) to ask if they knew where the boy might be and just before I walked up to the door, I saw a little dark figure in an orange shirt across the street. So I called out.

“Um…” I said as he turned toward me. “Do you know how long it’s been dark?”

I walked up and introduced myself to the adult (and parent of the friend) standing outside with him.

“I asked him what his curfew was and he told me 9:00,” said the friend’s dad. “It sounded a little late to me, but we were about to have him call you and give him a ride home.”

I made sure to get the parent’s number and assured him that the boy was supposed to go home when it was dark. 8:30 was far too late, especially since it had been dark for more than an hour.

As the boy and I walked home, I chastised him about being out so late.

“But I was watching a movie,” he said.

“I don’t care. When are you supposed to come home?”

“When it’s dark.”

“It’s not that big a deal if you want to watch a movie and eat pizza,” I said. “But at the very least, you have to call me and let me know where you are.”

He took a bite of his pizza and acted like it wasn’t a big deal.

I stopped and made him look at me.

I explained that having the freedom to run around unsupervised was a big responsibility; one he shouldn’t take advantage of if he wanted to keep it. If he couldn’t be trusted to come home when he was supposed to come home, he’d be on lockdown indefinitely.

He raised an eyebrow at the idea of being “on lockdown.”

“That’s right,” I said. “If I can’t trust you, you can’t go anywhere.”

He hung his head and sighed. Then he looked up at me and said, “Ok, mommy. I’m sorry. I’ll be more responsible next time.”

We hugged it out and I made him go to bed early.

Tags: Free-Range, Freedom & Responsibility, Teachable Moments, Teaching Responsibility

There are assholes everywhere

A year ago I decided it was time to move. There had been two “shoot outs” in as many weeks, both of which involved my immediate neighbor. I had lived in that place for 9 years and while it wasn’t what I would consider an affluent neighborhood, it certainly wasn’t as bad as some of the neighborhoods in LA.

There were lots of kids, all of whom were pretty much given free reign to play anywhere in the complex. If any of them tried to venture out (as I’m sure some did), there were security guards at the gates to stop them.

But with two shoot outs and an impending rent increase, I decided it was time for me to go and set out to find a place between Long Beach and Irvine where I worked. I ended up finding this cute little place in Orange where there were lots of kids and families. It was a little suburban for my taste, but the school was good and my commute to work would be cut in half.

And I like the neighborhood for the most part. It’s been good so far. I had even gotten more comfortable with giving the boy a longer leash and letting him ride his scooter around, as long as he stayed away from the main road. He had made friends and knew to come in when it was dark.

Today though, things were terribly sullied.

The boy went out to ride his scooter as he often did when there was still light when we got home for the day. It was starting to get dark and I was watching the door for the boy to come bursting in. And he did…but without his scooter.

“Where’s your scooter?” I asked expecting him to tell me he had forgotten it at a friend’s house again.

“Someone took it,” he said.

“WHAT?!?” I was in shock.

“A kid just walked up and took it from me.”

“What kid? Do you know him? Have you seen him before?”

“I’ve seen him once, but I don’t know him.”

As I questioned him, the boy’s shoulders begin to slump and I could tell he was seriously hurt. Not physically mind you…but you know…someone had taken his shit right out of his hands!

“What happened?” I asked. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

He told me how he was riding past one of his friend’s houses and this kid he didn’t really recognize came up behind him, punched him and told him, “Gimme your scooter bitch.”

“I tried to chase him and get it back but he was on my scooter and I ran out of breath.”

I couldn’t believe it.

That’s the kind of story you expect to hear when you live in the hood not when you’re in what you thought was a safe suburban family cul-de-sac. I sat there in shock for a few minutes before telling him I was sorry he had to go through that.

And he broke down.

“It really, really sucks,” he sobbed. “I really liked that scooter.”

I held him close, told him I knew and assured him he would get another.

“Just like that one?”

“I can’t promise you that honey.”

“But that was my favorite scooter ever.”

“I know honey, I know.”
Fuck. There are assholes everywhere.

Tags: Assholes, Crimes, mean kids, welcome to the 'burbs