Kenny get’s ready to mix with the boys at his new home. First trip to the dinning hall. Go Kenny!
Kenny get’s ready to mix with the boys at his new home. First trip to the dinning hall. Go Kenny!
Foster kid Kenny’s dance interpretation of arriving at his first boys home. Go Kenny!
Let’s be clear
On the topic of fear
Is it the dark
Is it the fact
Everyone thinks you’re a mark
Nobody has your back
When you’re attacked
Living in that home
Wishing everyone would leave you alone
You’re thinking Darwin was right
The pecking order requires you to fight
Again and again
That revolving door seems to never end
The key to success is finding a friend
There is someone around you can trust
This action is a must
Be careful who you pick
Don’t fall for a trick
Look for somebody your own age
Don’t feed in to each other’s rage
The answer is not a gun
The question is
How do you have fun
The more you laugh
The more you smile
The more you reject
The system’s bile
It keeps your heart clean
Which stops you from being mean
It’s not cool to fail
It’s not cool to go to jail
It doesn’t make you tough
It’s just a bunch of fluff
Coming from kids that are confused
Don’t be that muse
I’ll tell you what’s tight
Standing up for what’s right
Have fun and keep your mind clear
And watch your fear disappear
Today Desert Rose nominated my blog for the “Tell Me About Yourself Award.”
The rules for this award are to thank the person who nominated you, tell seven things about yourself, and nominate seven bloggers.
Thank you, Desert Rose. Thanks for making me share. 🙂
The following statements are all true.
1. I pretty much like peanut butter on everything. Including hot dogs.
2. My first dog was killed in a stash house in Mexico.
3. As a kid, I was kidnapped by a notorious biker gang and released unharmed.
4. My dad made Sixty Minutes… and not for his good deeds.
5. I was a third-generation foster kid, coming of age mostly in boys’ home and group homes and eventually aging out of the system.
6. I have lived and worked as far west as Hawaii and as far east as England and lots of places in between.
7. I feel like I won the lottery everyday. I’m happily married and have three great kids.
8. I presently earn a living hunting bad guys. I know there were only supposed to be seven things, but I’ve always had trouble following the rules. 🙂
9. I just wanted to break the rules again. I AM Potentially Disruptive.
The seven blogs I nominate for this award are… drumroll, please.
1. Poet Jena: http://poetjena.wordpress.com/about/
2. Antonio de Simone: http://antodesimone.wordpress.com/
3. Ardun Ward: http://ardunward.com/
4. Wayward Spirit: http://waywardspirit.wordpress.com/about/
5. Ramblings From an Apothetic Adult Baby: http://justingawel.com/about/
6. Scribble it Down: http://scribbleitdown.wordpress.com/
7. Cristian Mihai: http://cristianmihai.net/
It was a busy day at the mega mart.
A sharp turn off the aisle had me face to face with two tattoo-faced gangbangers.
Every cell in my body sensed trouble. They reaked of crime and suspicion.
They stared at me.
I stared at them… ready to break some collar bones. Ready for anything. That was one of the great gifts of coming of age in boys’ homes. I was about to open up a can of middle aged whoop butt.
I gave ’em my famous boys’ home crazy eyes.
The two young men stepped back and just stood there.
Images of deadly moves rushed through my mind.
Thug One said, “you alright, sir.”
Sir? I thought. I’m not worthy of your harassment? A mugging? A screwdriver in my belly?
Hmm. The crazy eyes must’ve given off a different impression.
Thug Two spoke and interrupted my thoughts. “You okay sir, do you need any help?”
Help? Do they want to help me across the aisle? Do I look that old and feeble?
Looking into their eyes I could see they were generally concerned. Somehow, this was worse than being stabbed in the neck with a pencil.
Sometimes people assume I’m my kids grandpa, but this… this is ridiculous. I told them I was okay.
“Okay sir,” one of them replied.
They called me sir again. I walked off taking a deep breath and chalked it up to having a case of the PTSD sniffles.