This feels like it shall never, ever end. I don't think I am going to be able to replace that phone. Damn. It was pretty. Fuck. Being robbed feels like it never ends.
This afternoon the Fourth Inner Ring of Hell (otherwise know as the California DMV) had a wait time of 3 hours, 45 minutes when I finally gave up on getting a driver's license copy and handed my number (g256) over to the beautiful old gentleman next to me and dashed for the exit. There were 400 people in that room and none of them happy. None of this tableau is an exaggeration.
The presses have been stopped.--What formerly appeared in this space was a bit on my personal experience with violence and what I actually got out of it. Writing one's personal thoughts on the rare experience of being one's own defender is apparently inflammatory and still not thought appropriate in this society.
I have removed this content ONLY because right at this very moment I am not feeling patient or "dolphin-free-tuna-woman" together enough to defend my own drivel which people are reading of their own volition. Those who don't feel that victims can take something useful from bad experience and then act in their own defense should go read Family Circus. (You know where it is: the circle in the left hand corner of the comic page, just waiting to suck.)
This is my soapbox. You want to flame me this week about the content? This isn't the week.--
On the other hand, the mere mention of physical aggression can be enough to send unprepared people into their own dark thoughts and memories and it just all goes downhill from there.
For that, I am truly sorry.