Saturday, January 31, 2009
This is Not Going to Be A Funny Post. Unless You're an Asshole.
The cat picture is just for cuteness. It's not even that cute. Actually it's kinda gross. And I bet the cat fucking hates it.
This week was a big week for me. I've alluded many times to "that one thing" that's happening soon, but I couldn't talk about what it was. Well, now, it is over. And I can talk about it.
Here's how it was supposed to go down:
The trial of the cabdriver who sexually assaulted me would start.
I would testify. It would suck, but I would get through it, because after all the waiting, I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.
The jury would find him guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.
Here's what went down:
The trial of the cabdriver who sexually assaulted me started.
I testified. On cross, the defense attorney (who is known throughout the legal community as a huge asshole, bully, and rapist-lover) accused me of being a liar, a slut, a drug addict, an alcoholic, and, get this: a thief. Naturally he didn't get away with saying all of this. You ostensibly, need a good faith basis for saying that kind of shit, which, he didn't have, so he was not allowed to continue. However, you can't really unring a bell. Especially in front of a jury.
The jury believed him, at least in part, and found him not guilty.
So he's free. Driving around in his cab again. Maybe you're his passenger. Lovely thought, huh? One thing is clear, my days of cab rides are over.
I remember two and a half years ago when this happened. I remember feeling life could never have gotten worse. I had no idea how I would ever survive it. Slowly, though, because eventually he would be put behind bars, it would be ok. Now, though. It's over. No do-overs. No appeals. No anything. Just the knowledge that bad things happen and they never get better.
Right now, I feel it would have been easier for the jury to say "We, the jury find the defendant not guilty, and now we shall proceed to the victim's home and shoot her in the temple."
Don't worry. I'm not suicidal. But I am definitely, definitely very lost. I have no light at the end of the tunnel. There's no silver lining. No other gaywad hopeful expression comes to mind. There is no hope. There's nothing to lift my spirits except the friendly doctors who are all too happy to over prescribe in times such as these. There's nothing. There is no hope.
I don't know what the next step is. I don't think there is.
I am so stupid for not preparing for the possibility that this could happen. Of COURSE it could happen. These cases are hard to prove. Obviously I should have considered the possibility that 12 strangers would think that after spending 15 SECONDS in a cab with a man, I clearly wanted to get it on with him. I should have been prepared. But no. I was prepared for this to be my New Year. Seriously. I didn't make New Year's resolutions because I knew this was just a few weeks away. I made cabdriver conviction Resolutions:
1. Write thank you notes more consistently
2. Return phone calls more promptly
3. Save more money.
4. Go out after work with Squid and Hippie less often and when we do, go to cheaper places.
5. Get out to Los Angeles and D.C. at least once a year.
6. Lose 10 pounds.
7. FINALLY OPEN MY BLINDS. This one is sort of specific to the cabdriver. Since it happened. I've kept my blinds shut. When he was convicted, I was going to open them. I told that to someone who was kind enough to come over and check on me the other day. She immediately opened them anyway. I shut them back as soon as she left.
There were others. But they don't matter now. There never ended up being a "New Year's." Nothing matters now. Yeah. Sorry. I told you this wasn't going to be a very funny post. But whatever. It's my blog. You can stop reading anytime you like, and you won't hurt my feelings.
Ok here's something nuts. I'm totally not kidding. The night before the trial started, I had this overwhelming urge to pray. Like really really pray. I know, that does not sound like me at all, but I am totally not kidding.
Ultimately, I made the conscious choice to not pray. To not to bring him/her/it into the whole thing, figuring that if I had been off of his/her/its radar this long, do I REALLY want to draw attention to myself? It would be like going to the DMV to ask for a copy of your Driver's License, and then all of a sudden they're like "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH did you know you have 34624656 unpaid parking tickets? You'll have to clear those up first before we will even hear what you need."
Maybe that was the wrong decision. Who knows? Maybe if I prayed, then 12 jurors wouldn't have looked at pictures of my half-naked and bruised up body and decided "Oh, yeah, she clearly wanted sex."
I am trying to find something- anything to gain from this. I need a lesson. But there is none. I am broken. I don't care how overdramatic that sounds.
I'm going to see the defense attorney around the courthouse. He's always around. He's super sleazy. I don't know what to do if I'm in a situation where I have to actually speak to him in a lawyer to lawyer sense. I think punching him in the nuts, while providing me the most satisfaction, would probably land me in the most trouble with the ARDC, however crumbling into a crying heap on the floor, while providing him some sort of giggle, is also not what I want to do.
I guess, I would just act dignified, even though I imagine he knows that his client robbed me of most of my dignity two and a half years ago, and he took everything that remained this past week.
His life is so different from mine. It's hard not to wish for this to happen to his own daughter. And have her attacker be represented by a man just like him. But ultimately, I wish no violence against women. I guess.
I don't even know what I'm saying. I feel broken. What's it called when you get in a car crash, and your car is beyond repair? Fuck.. I know the word. I just can't think of it.
Totaled. I feel totaled. I am totaled.