Monday, April 27, 2009

Stolen Lines #4

Feeling both empowered and terrified as I drove into work, I looked up at the sky and started talking.

The rules: Start your post with the above line. End your post with "I stole the first line of this post from Stay Tuned, by Jenniffer Weigel" And maybe link back to me so people can understand the point of the post.

And whatever you put in the middle is up to you.

There's no deadline. Write whenever you feel like it. If you want to have your post included, just leave a comment or send me an email telling me you've posted.

PS. This is open to absolutely anyone. All you have to do it write it.

Here, you can find the previous Stolen Lines.

Update: Stolen Lines By:

Colby in the City

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Stolen Lines # 4 Announcement and a Very Important Question

I'll post the next Stolen Line on Monday, April 27th.

In the meantime, here's a very important question...

If a judge has a booger, are you supposed to tell her/him?

Sunday, April 12, 2009

I Have Protected Myself. From Myself.

I may have had 5 glasses of wine too many yesterday.

Then, I thought it was a good idea to password protect my Blackberry.

I remember picking a very creative password.

One that I hadn't used for anything else.

Then I fell asleep.

Suffice it to say, I can't remember my very creative password.

Wednesday, April 08, 2009

Fun With In Court Identifications

Grace: Do you see that person in this courtroom today?

Witness: Yes.

Grace: Can you please point her out and describe an article of clothing that she's wearing?

Witness: Sure. Black hair, blue jeans, see-through top.

Grace: (cough cough) let the record reflect (cough cough) the in court identification of the defendant?

Judge: (cough cough) record shall so reflect.

Sunday, April 05, 2009

The Dog & Me: A Dialogue: Part VI

Me: Why did you have to eat my entire bag of almonds? It's like the one food I am currently able to eat!

Dog: Because if I eat the one food you are currently able to eat, maybe you will die sooner. Why do you ask questions with such obvious answers, Skank?

Me: You don't even LIKE almonds.

Dog: So? I don't like blueberry jolly ranchers either, but I eat them. Why the fuck would I do something like that? Because the only joy in my life is depriving you of things you like. Oh, and making you clean up dog vomit. Get it, Asshole?

Me: You know, you are really abusive and hostile.

Dog: Fuck off, and take me for a walk. Those almonds are gonna hurt coming out. We're gonna be out there for a while.

Me: Great. And five thousand people are going to come up to you and you're going to act all cute, and they're gonna pet you and you're going to act all adorable, because you NEVER say the shit you say when other people are around.

Dog: Why would I? Other people don't repulse me like you do. And of course people are going to come up to me. I'm a DILF.

Me: WHAT... did you just say?

Dog: A DILF. It's a...

Me: Stop right there! Don't finish that sentence.

Dog: You don't want to know what a DILF is?

Me: Stop! I know what a DILF is.

Dog: Ahh... Of course you do, you naughty little tramp.

Me: No! That's not what I mean. I mean, I know where you're going with this. I mean, there's no such thing as a DILF. That's just wrong.

Dog: You're just wrong.

Me: Can't we just go on our walk and put this unpleasantness behind us?


Me: Can't we please discuss something else?

Dog: OK. How about your flabby and untoned arms?

Me: No.

Dog: The dark circles under your eyes?

Me: No. Let's not talk about me at all.

Dog: Ok. Do you think my poop will be blue from the jolly ranchers or almond shamed from the almonds?

Saturday, April 04, 2009

Victim Impact Statement

When a person is found guilty of a violent crime in the state of Illinois, the victim (or the victim's family member) is given the opportunity to submit a victim impact statement. The statement must be written in conjunction with the State's Attorney's Office, and must be given in advance to the state's attorneys, and may be considered in the aggravation/mitigation portion of the sentencing proceedings.

Well, since the cabdriver got acquitted, I never got to do one. I don't even know that I would have done it though. Once I realized that I would have to let someone else help me write it, I kinda thought it sounded lame. Like, I would only be allowed to say things that the State approved of. Well, fuck that. Anyway, it doesn't matter. The point is now moot.

But I can write a victim impact statement here. Because it's my fucking blog. And it's sexual assault awareness month. Thank GOD... I was like, feeling so UNAWARE. Anyway...

Dear Cabdriver,

Over two and a half years ago, our paths crossed. That one night in July, it was a beautiful night. I haven't really thought about how pretty the night was until right now as I write this. It was perfect flip flop, tank top, summer skirt, weather. It was perfect drink outside, enjoy your friends, savor every moment of this glorious city weather.

It was a perfect night for you to cruise the city looking for victims.

The beauty of that night will be forever lost on me, as I am sure will the beauty of any future perfect July nights. That's on you. You took from me summer nights outside.

You took from me unlocked bedroom doors. You took from me open windows. Open blinds.

You took from me the color green. I was never a fan of black denim, but now it gives me flashbacks. Strong, vivid flashbacks.

You took from me my home. I had to move.

You took from me at least 20 minutes during the Illinois bar exam. The fucking bar exam! Something just hit me, and you were in my head. And you wouldn't go away. You took 20 minutes from me during the most important test of my life. All of a sudden I snapped out of it. Thank god I was able to. Sometimes I'm not. Sometimes you take my whole day. Like today. Honestly like, most days. You're always on my mind. Sometimes it's subtle, like a leaky faucet, that just slowly and methodically reminds you that something is not right. Other times, it's like I am stuck in a hurricane while concurrently being the hurricane.

You took from me some friends, and some family. I've never been the best communicator. And what you did that one night in July, was the nail in the coffin of my ability to communicate.

I don't trust myself anymore. I don't trust my decision making skills. You did that. That one night in July.

My great uncle died a week ago. To be fair, you actually had nothing to do with that. He was old and had cancer. I didn't know him very well, but I went to his funeral with my mother. In his eulogy, my cousin stated that my great uncle was the greatest influence on his life. At the luncheon afterward, the conversation turned to who in each of our own lives was the most influential. My mother, awesome lady that she is, said me. I, of course, said her. And there was a time that that was true. She certainly deserves to be called the most influential person in my life. But she's not.

You are. You took that title from her. and you have earned it. Every single thing I do is influenced by you. The way I walk to and from work. The way I talk to people. The way I colored my hair. The way I listen to sounds. The way I listen to nothing. The way I feel about my successes and failures. The way I eat, I sleep, I breathe. The way I hide from people who care about me. It's all about you.

I thought it would be easier after your trial two months ago. But, stupid me... I never contemplated you being acquitted. It's so much harder than I had ever anticipated. I actually cannot decide which was worse, the assault or the trial. Both of which you are responsible for. Maybe I'd be feeling better if I didn't have to see your scumbag defense attorney in my courtroom at least once a week. This week, I did my first jury trial, and won. I wasn't thinking about you. That moment was mine. My boss was IN THE MIDDLE of telling me what a good job I did, and congratulating me, when your scumbag lawyer walked right over and interrupted him to shake my boss's hand. So, by proxy, you stole that moment too.

I used to be someone very different. I used to be way cooler. I miss the person I was before that one night in July. I miss sleeping. I miss dancing at street festivals with awesome women. I miss feeling free and open. I miss my friends.

I try to find something positive out of this. Maybe this will somehow make me a better prosecutor. A stronger advocate. A more compassionate voice for victims.

Or maybe I'll go on, just as I am today. Easily startled and hyper-aware of my own mortality.

We are forever linked, Cabdriver. I will forever be your victim, and you will forever be my perpetrator. The thought of that connection that we will always share makes me want to tear my hair out and set myself on fire.

I hope and wish, Cabdriver, that whatever path your life takes, wherever you choose to go, and whatever you choose to do, you endure much grief and suffering. You and your family. And your sleazy attorney.

You took away the best possible version of me. And you took away summer nights.