A sassy, crafty mama bird from Los Angeles
raising a very sweet little girl with Autism
and a new baby boy in the Midwest... and other stuff, too.

Thursday, January 8, 2009


"Sorry Sorry for making your life a living hell" - Rooney
Alright, it's out of my hands. Judging by the lowered red flag on my mailbox, I guess it's out of there too. In the next few days, one of my high school teachers will get the letter. She'll learn that I'm a grown up now, I get it, and I'm sorry. I was out of control and looking for trouble- though I remember not having to look very far. I went to a private school with all the other spoiled brats in the valley. Everyone had a choice to make: you could be a jock, cheerleader, smart kid, or a stoner and trouble maker. I'll let you guess which category I fit into. Always part of the counter culture, I had a hard time fitting into any mold. I did like to have fun and I was willing to go to great lengths to get it done.
I could never relate to the cheerleaders or the jocks. In fact, I got a doctor's note to get out of any kind of Phys Ed activity. Instead, I had to work in the office of an administrator, entering detention notices into the computer system. What fools! I, nor any of my friends, showed any record of having received detentions that year!! Years later I ran into that particular administrator and confessed. We laughed about it together. The next time I heard his name when word got out that he'd taken his life. I am glad I got to get to know him on a different level and make amends before he was gone. 
My mom tells stories of having to beg the Principal to please give me one more chance; promising him I wouldn't tell the teacher to fuck off anymore, I'd stop ditching school, wouldn't smoke pot on campus again, etc etc etc. My mom had this speech down to a tee since she'd been giving some version of it since I was seven years old and every two years after that. What did she expect? She'd been raising me in a house built on rock n roll with two liberal hippies for parents. There were rules, but there was also extra credit for questioning authority and sticking it to the man. They let me back in a few times, but at the end of my junior year, they asked me not to return for my senior year. Thank g-d because my 6th and final school was by far the most fun. It really was a school for delinquents and actually, the only one that would have accepted us after we'd all been expelled from other schools. We haven't yet had an official reunion, but I'm sure no one's surprised since we were probably all expected to be incarcerated or in rehab centers by then. Shockingly, no one is in jail and if anyone was in rehab, he or she is out by now. Just one of us was last seen speaking gibberish to himself, possibly living on the streets. Not bad, statistically speaking! Actually, we've gone on to do way more than anyone would have expected from such a motley bunch. 
People who have met me since I've moved to the Midwest might be surprised to know that I was once a wild child, making trouble any way I could. I've got a million stories, but my mom did mention to me once that she'd read my blog, so in effort to protect what ever innocence she has left, I'll keep it in and just smile.

1 comment:

lorib said...

im shocked. you? a wild child?? nah! i totally would have pegged you for the happy-go-lucky cheerleader. as if! :)

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