That's right. I live in suburbia now. Cleveland suburbia. And I have to sigh a HUGE sigh of relief. I love North Portland but it got hairy there for awhile.
-Like the time I came home, saw a man with a gun run across the street, opened the door to my house and saw my housemate cowering under the table from a gang shootout.
-Like the time my neighbor was shot to death on her porch.
-Like the time I rode the bus to teen rappers rapping how "I gonna rape the only white girl on the bus, uh huh, uh huh." Guess who was the only white girl on the bus?
-Like the time the homeless man stole my $25.00 pair of black, silky, new Victoria's Secret underwear I bought with my Chanukah money. And then proceeded to piss in the washers.
-Like the time a teen shook shocked in the middle of the street, his red blood decorating a Tri-Met bus. I was walking home from work, down Killingsworth. A woman screeched up, ran frantic to the boy, screaming that she was a nurse. I still wonder what happened to that guy. Dear God. I wept all the way home. There wasn't much I could do, standing around in tears, mouth wide.
And now...I love suburbia! I love cookie cutter houses! I love normalcy!
This trip down memory lane was brought to you by a shooting just outside my old home...ahem...that I wasn't present for and wouldn't even know about if I hadn't checked my Portland Community College email.
