I miss Ghetto-Ass Oakland Sooo Bad

This I wrote Fall of 2007. (I guess I was going through a phase of not capitalizing. It's irritating now, but not enough for me to do anything about it. To set the scene, I had left the classroom after four years of teaching and I was waiting tables because I was going to be a famous writer or artist or dj or drummer. Please note: I don't play the drums and I'm currently employed in education.)

my night didn't start very well. i sliced my finger open at work which for most people is unfortunate and for me is a little more...cuz...i'm a wimp. a wimp without health insurance. not that i necessarily need stitches, but what if i DID? and there was a lot of blood and i got light-headed. but, i mean...my finger is fine.

that's not the point.

so then, i was taking off my stupid work stuff in the dingy-ass bathroom and i was also trying to text message at the same time because rachel thought we were seeing a movie tonight, which we're not...we're seeing it tomorrow night but i was trying to type type type...'hey sorry, i didn't stand you up' but all of a sudden like a bird taking flight or anything else that would unexpectedly leap out of your hands because you are clumsy, my phone jumped into the air. and it landed on that dingy-ass floor clankclumpclammer and all and it wasn't one anymore. no, it was two. two separate pieces. this would be unfortunate for most, but for me, a travesty. i live for that little black box that brings me the voices. sweet little lifeline.

but that's not the point either.

the point is after both of those two things, i drove home to find FOUR cop cars in front of my house. in oakland, i think FOUR cop cars is like, half the force so something was not right with my hood...or my house? i didn't know for sure so i rolled down my window and asked the kind sir who happened to be shining his bright light into MY backyard if everything was ok at my house. and he said they were there for the neighboring apartment complex. yeah, the one that overlooks my yard...and my room. so i'm glad my roommates are safe, but still a troubling discovery at 10:30 p.m. on a friday evening. so i look for somewhere to park, but there isn't anything that isn't nearly a mile away and something tells me walking after dark right now is out of the question (and that something is the aforementioned blockade of opd vehicles), so i block my neighbors driveway. they are a sweet nice family and their light is on, so i knock on the door and tell them the situation. they watch me walk home where i find...no one home. in a big drafty house that has been broken into in the past, i am alone. and there are cops crawling everywhere. and i don't have a working phone nor do we have a landline. so i pace and pace and cry a little and pace some more and turn on all the lights and maybe that is someone hiding behind those big drapes? ok, it isn't. it's just a draft or something, but then i look out the window and the cop is flashing a light into a paper bag on the street...WHAT IS HE LOOKING FOR? i yell into my head. i do not yell this into any phone because i do not have one and i do not yell this into the street because i think that would probably draw attention to the fact that i am alone in a big big house and i don't have a dog or a baseball bat. WHY don't i have a BASEBALL BAT? more importantly, why don't i have a cheapy phone to plug into the landline i pay for each month? it wouldn't even have to be a cordless. not even that.

but the point, really is that (i've said this before)...it's that i love the internet. i hate earthlink (you suck so much) but we just got our internet back so i logged on and i love gmail too and i love that rachel was online and i told her i thought i heard shots but maybe it was a car backfiring or fireworks or something though i don't know why on earth anyone would be doing fireworks because it's after 11 on a friday and it's kind of rainy and i am FREAKED out, but the internet saved me and so did rachel because she is going to come sleep over and that makes me feel a bit safer.

i think that paragraph was one sentence but i reserve the right to be WORDY but next time someone asks me if i could really deal with all that snow in minnesota i think i will say yes i can deal with all that snow and all that safety and i think i'd like a big dog.

and a plug-into-the-wall-phone. maybe cordless, but not necessarily.

This I wrote last summer, 2007:

I've heard that Honda civics are not hard to break into and seeing as how this has happened to me three times now, I'd have to say the rumor is true.

My stereo has been stolen three times. Each time, my cds were left untouched, no windows were broken, nor did they even cut the wires. The perpetrators are skilled and probably reselling my stereos at the Ashby flea market.

I'd have to say that each time it's happened I have not been thrilled, though the blow is lessening at this point.

A few weeks ago my roommate was robbed at gunpoint. My stereo was stolen. Perspective is key.

Yet, no pretenses, I did throw the shit in my hand forcefully into my backseat and yell, "F*** ME! F*** F*** F***!" loud enough that my neighbors probably heard.

I've been thinking, however….trying to find some peace with a lot of stuff in life, (as one does when unemployed) and I've found the emergence of silence to be timely.

I've had visitors in my home off and on (mostly on) for over a month. I've been wrapping up time spent surrounded by lively teenagers. I've been social! social! social!

I find that silence, in many interpretations of the word, is needed.

So the chick in the silver Honda? The one with the crack in the window? The one talking to herself and looking deep in thought?

That'd be me.

So, why the HELL do I miss Oakland so much? I'll tell you why--it's 20 degrees warmer over there. It's August and I wore a fucking wool hat the other day. Bogus.