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It would've been your birthday [29 May 2017|11:37am]

It would have been your birthday
You would've been 33
It's the first time on your birthday
You weren't there to speak with me
The things you could've done
And the things you could feel
Won't ever happen now
It's all so unreal
Through our entire lives
We always had each other
Now there's a void in my heart
It can never be replaced by another
I don't usually rhyme things
So this is pretty weird
Diapers, gnomes and other secrets
Are all kept in my tears
I'm wearing your earrings now
To feel a part of you
With me, guiding me, and whispering
All the things us geminis should do
I hope your birthday is better now
Without so much pain
I hope you get all the treats
And i hope it never rains
I see you in my dreams sometimes
And think of you every day
It will never be the same again
There's nothing left to say

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emotional work issues [11 Jan 2017|04:51pm]
when I keep getting offered jobs in florida, including a house security position that i've been trying to get all year, but I have to turn down because i'm stuck in a frozen wasteland where I can't even get a callback from jobs I used to have.

super depressing
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Insomnia anxiety and cordials [07 Nov 2016|02:10am]

When you don't sleep well in general but now you really can't sleep because the door has to be open so I can make sure my grandpa is breathing/sleeping okay without his cpap machine which he can't wear cause his face is too swollen..everytime he moves, I think something is happening ..when it isn't...but I can't relax ever..and I can't listen to music because then I can't hear him if he needs something

I keep thinking the worst and hoping for the best but I'm terrified something is gonna happen when I'm gone and I'm not ready to be without him ..but I also don't want to not go on tour because its the only thing that makes me happy in real life

My grandma and I had chocolate cordials with almond milk to help us sleep last night ..neither of us really drink. She's told a story about how my mom took her to a nudist massage thing and didn't tell her and my grandma was the only one not naked and everyone thought she was really cool..I also kept giving her the stuff from my cup ..and she's like "i keep sipping and there's still stuff at the bottom"

I love them

Especially how excited/happy my grandpa gets when i offer him a fudgicle

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Poppa falls again [05 Nov 2016|08:49pm]

My grandpa fell out of bed around 5am and busted his head open on the nightstand..huge pool of blood..there's nothing sadder than the sound of my grandpa crying..the paramedics came and we followed them to the hospital and they cleaned him up..nothing super broken but he needs stitches but one of the wounds is too close to his eye..it keeps bleeding and it looks like he's crying blood. We got him home from the hospital and I went out and got him a new bed railing because the other one is clearly defective even though I checked it yesterday..my grandma stayed calm..my grandpa made "no selfie" jokes and I've been a wreck all day...I had to goto Costco to get a new rug because the other was covered in blood..my car decided it didn't want to start..of course. I had a few more panic attacks..it started working finally. ..I had to clean up all the blood and from his cpap machine ...he fell asleep on the couch ..I made him breakfast when he woke up..his face was still bleeding through his bandages..he feels like shit because he thinks he's a burden..but he isn't and we love him

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sexual harassment in the work place [29 Oct 2016|01:08pm]
To whom it may concern,

Tuesday, October 25th 2016, I was working at the Hillary Rally at Omni Auditorium at Broward College.

During the load out one of our road leads, Pops, was making jokes. Funny, stupid jokes, nothing overtly sexual in any way. Joel Reisman walks over to her. He says "I have a joke for you, you know math?..how old are you?. (She's 24) ..how many times does 72 go into 24....twice on a good night" it wasn't funny the way he told it or in any type of good spirits. She immediately responded with "that's inappropriate, you're making me uncomfortable". Her face turned red so he said something to the effect of "ohh but you're blushing, you like it". She walks away. She comes back to the shop area before the loading dock and is alone. She motioned for me to come stand with her so he doesn't say anything else to her. She tells me that he's been making comments at her all day. She didn't mention specifics. Ashley, Shay and one other female come over and stand with us. Pops tells us "It's hard enough for her to be taken seriously as the boss over these men who make comments to her". Lots of people were around to hear his "joke". I don't know most of their names.

I've known Joel for about seven years. In all the time I've known him, he is constantly derogatory towards women. He is always making us feel uncomfortable, either directly or indirectly. He used to say things to me, but It was years ago and I've repeatedly told him to his face to not speak to me ever. He also has no work ethic. He consistently avoids doing work and doesn't pay attention to most specific directions that any crew lead actually gives him.

This behavior is a threat to the safety of our sisters on and off jobs. I know that I can handle myself, but we shouldn't have to endure this on every job site from anyone. Now that all this information has come to light, I hope that we can trust that you'll take the proper steps to rectify this.

Thank you for your time,

Viva Sigal Sahar
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?? [06 Aug 2016|10:18pm]

What do i do?

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to the people who say they never watch the footage they take on their phones [29 Jun 2016|02:34pm]
I actually watch a lot of my videos a lot. Some of the best feelings i've ever felt was watching live music. Watching the musicians live their dreams and create something amazing. Being able to know that I helped in some way to make all of their lives better even in a small capacity . And when I watch the videos from those shows, it takes me there, even for the moment, to the best feelings of my life.
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anyone need VHS tapes???? [20 Jun 2016|06:32pm]
anyone need VHS tapes? http://miami.craigslist.org/brw/emd/5645244715.html .. i'll deliver to south florida and up the east coast if i'm heading there and work out deals
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My poppa [13 Jun 2016|02:05pm]

Apparently my grandpa fell again on Saturday while in was at work. My grandparents didn't call me. They had to call the police. He was across the street taking out margies trash cans and he slipped and he fell over there and random people drove by and got my grandma and they called and the fire department and they picked him up. My grandma said he's been crying. Or almost on the point of crying..From what nana says, i think he's depressed. Every time i see him, he has a chipper attitude. But he'll say things like "oh I won't be around much longer" or "I'll be dead in  5 years anyway" . his doctors say he's as fine as he can get as far as his tests go.

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I'm just so sad [13 Jun 2016|01:14pm]

I've been even more depressed all day.  Like off and on crying..I was okay..so I felt like having sex ..so then in the middle I started crying because all the people that were shot will never be able to hug or love anyone or anything ever again.. And at any given point I could be in that situation..at a show..at Town if I still worked there.. All of it affects me. It could be anyone I know. At any point . I'm just so sad

Like Adam Krump..my ex who I cheated on with Ross a million years ago who I rarely ever talk to..In between his crippling spinal issues and hospital visits..He called to see if I was alive.

It's so horrible to have to be like I'm alive and people I know are physically ok..but I'm not okay and most of the people I know aren't okay and I dont know if we ever will be

I am just so sad

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Always the overthought [09 Jun 2016|08:36pm]

So apparently Natalie asking me to be a bridesmaid when she was drunk but not really that drunk equates to completely forgetting to invite me or deliberately not inviting me  to a party involving the rest of the bridesmaids .. Even though I've been completely free and made that kind of vocal for weeks ..I wonder if they'll even remember to invite me to the wedding .. I mean I didn't follow up about the actual bridesmaids thing  which i guess isn't a big deal but we've texted since then about trying to hang out but no one ever texts me back after I ask when they want me to meet them wherever/whenever...I just love them and always want to spend time with them or be involved or help in some way .. I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding or something..it usually is..except I'm the one who always ends up butthurt ...I just care a lot ..and wish I didn't

I'm glad everyone is doing happy things though ..I love seeing people happy

Im just bummed that im always forgotton. And then afterwards they're all like "oh we meant to invite you.."

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Grumpy or just a person [09 Jun 2016|02:38am]

Apparently me being too hot and not wanting to be touched equates to me being grumpy ..I'm like no it means I don't want to be touched

Being grumpy is having to tell someone repeatedly that I don't want to be touched and having them tell me how I feel.

And also being coughed on repeatedly..he apparently NEVER knows when he's gonna cough..so he never covers his mouth ever because he claims there's no time ...it's apparently  so spontaneous and abrubt, "like a sneeze", He's like 'don't u ever sneeze' and I'm like yeah..I still cover my mouth. seriously he spit/cough hit my arm 2 or 3 times and all over my back

He always thinks I'm mad when I'm not actually mad

Then he got mad at me for getting mad about the coughing thing. But really, how do you not sense at all that you're gonna cough. There's still like 2 seconds it takes to feel it in your chest and throat. In which time you could  cover your mouth. He keeps his mouth closed sometimes but it still flies out when he claims it doesnt, When it reallllly does. how many times do I have to ask. He's says he can't control it
I'm like be aware of your body..pay fucking attention
He's gonna be 29 at the end of the month. Like grow the fuck up ..you just graduated school ..don't fucking touch me if I don't want to be touched and cover your mouth and wash your hands
Its not that hard to be an adult.. Except apparently it is For everyone in the world

What's sad is I doubt there's any dude out there who really actually respects women and treats them like just a person..even people in legitimate caring relationships ..when we were younger it was a different world .. No one stood up because it was just expected .. Harassment, comments, the way people interact with each other ..now people are becoming more aware ..of themselves and everyone around them..or at least I am .. More so than I ever was. I know my own body more than anyone else..I know what I'm feeling when I feel it even if I don't know what's causing it..if I'm overheated and you are cold..me making you warm isn't going to make me less warm

I get that he's needy ..but I don't want to kiss every 2 minutes ..I let him know when  I need space and what i want on a regular basis ..he gets frustrated that everything is on my terms sometimes ...but if it wasn't..I'd probably be miserable and filled with resentment ..

I'm still affectionate but I'm not the same as I used to be when we started dating and that isn't about him..it's about me and my body and my awareness of what's going on with my body. Which he has trouble understanding.  I'm sorry he's butthurt about it But I don't know how to make it any clearer. He's not overly disrespectful about it ..he'll just mope around and sleep on the couch and get offended that im not more accomidating to his needs. But i dont know how to do that without compromising myself

But still..it's upsetting to constantly have to be like no, I don't want to kiss or bang or whatever ALL DAY ..he just asks all the time because every so often I'll randomly change my mind ..I'm like dude..when and if I change my mind..I'll let you know

I'm always on my guard ..all the time with everyone..it's exhausting. Even if I wasn't with him..I'd still be on my guard. There is no shutting it down. There is no real relaxing. There also isnt any indication in this world that i ever could or should.

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casino birthday [08 Jun 2016|01:41am]

So I went to a casino with my friend and I signed up for the free card and got free play..I won $4 so I tried to cash out and the machine jammed..a staff person comes over and can't figure it out..a supervisor comes over and is figuring it out..he goes in the back to check with his supervisor about something and a random dude comes up and asks to play the machine next to it in between me and her ..he then proceeds to try and put his card in my machine while I'm standing in front of it and we tell him not to touch it cause we're waiting for the supervisor ..he pushes my friend out of the way and shoves $100 on the machine..she and him have words and he shoves her again and his finger goes in her eye..I went to grab a security person..the police came and did nothing but take our names and phone numbers ..My first time here as a customer and my birthday turns into assault ..I spent $25 and won nothing. ..I was up $10 for a minute but that didn't last ...my friend comes here all the time so she talked to the host and got us free food

It happens ..that's like my whole life .. 20 terrible things will happen but like 3 good things still happen sometimes ..they gave me more free play and the guy didn't bother us anymore but didn't go to another machine so he was in between us for an hour or so..i lost $25 but The food was good

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Forgiveness [07 Jun 2016|05:45pm]

Forgiveness means, I understand you are human and made a mistake. There are still consiquences for mistakes even after forgiveness, sometimes that is an irreversible loss of trust or love. If it's a situation where you think you want to still have this person in your life then it's going to take work from both of you. Think long and hard, because not everyone deserves your presence. That person will have to recognize what they did, and make a promise to not repeat it. Then you will have to get over the anger you feel towards yourself and them for the hurt your feeling.
Remember that only you can decide what is best for your life, and you can change your mind at any point.
Many well wishes to you.

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What a night [06 Jun 2016|01:57am]

my grandpa fell..nana called at a little after midnight ...I drove to lake worth.. We just picked up pop..he has a scrape on his head from a chair..he was only wearing a robe..he had tried to lean over to grab a towel off the chair and missed and fell ..it took me, Geoff and nana to get him stood up..once he was up he was okay ..he has a ct scan scheduled for tomorrow anyway so there's that..so much has happened tonight already ..Geoffs foot was bleeding earlier and I've been crying off and on all day for various reasons ..and then to end the night I had to hold my grandpa's butt.

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Depression [05 Jun 2016|01:51pm]

He  keeps asking me if I'm okay ..which I reply fine

Or if there's anything he can do ..which there isnt

Because I seem depressed

To which I reply yes

Like super super depressed

To which I reply..I get it

Like telling me I seem depressed when I've been telling him I've been depressed for weeks is gonna help me ever

The first thing he always asks is if I'm on my period..
Like it ever helps even if i was. Its not justifiable in any way.  If im being irrational while menstrating its blatent and obvious.

He reads this but I still don't think he really understands how it is to be filled nonstop with emotions cause he suppresses everything

I feel worse because there isn't anything he can do

But constantly asking me if I'm okay then forgetting everything I've previously said doesn't help me ever

I'm constantly in pain..chronic body pain..I've always had it for years ..I don't take anything because pills don't help me...herb helps but only a mild amount ...nothing can save me

The only times I've ever felt exasperated joy was at elvis's house and shows or working or doing something with actual purpose ...the rest of my life has been me fighting against the darkness

Even with all i'm grateful for, it really isnt enough.

Everything i have still isnt helping me achieve my dreams of actively helping others while helping myself at the same time ..its either help others and get nothing ..or put effort into doing things i dont want to do that wont make me any happier

Everything hurts

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self tour [05 Jun 2016|04:14am]
Zoo peculiar and que lastima want me to go on the tour but dont have room for me in either vehicle but zoo peculiar offered %10 of merch sales and food and a spot in the hotel room..so if I decided to go and drive my own car it's about $400 in gas and wear and tear on my car..realistically I could use my savings but also realistically I can't really afford it

But that's not a tour..it's me missing work to follow bands around selling merch for basically nothing...it's not really being with either of them

i would get to go to heavy rebel which is always something i wanted to do.

plus the bands are so good that i really just want to help them anyway .. i fully believe they could get significantly huge to their demographic .. they really do need the help though. i can make them a lot of money.. i'm really good at selling stuff and being a tour manager.

it's seriously killing me. no one benefits from me being poor.
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It's so accurate on a lot of levels .. Disgusting in all its truth and the way humanity is [05 Jun 2016|02:13am]


One night in January 2015, two Stanford University graduate students biking across campus spotted a freshman thrusting his body on top of an unconscious, half-naked woman behind a dumpster. This March, a California jury found the former student, 20-year-old Brock Allen Turner, guilty of three counts of sexual assault. Turner faced a maximum of 14 years in state prison. On Thursday, he was sentenced to six months in county jail and probation. The judge said he feared a longer sentence would have a “severe impact” on Turner, a champion swimmer who once aspired to compete in the Olympics — a point repeatedly brought up during the trial.

On Thursday, Turner’s victim addressed him directly, detailing the severe impact his actions had on her — from the night she learned she had been assaulted by a stranger while unconscious, to the grueling trial during which Turner’s attorneys argued that she had eagerly consented.

The woman, now 23, told BuzzFeed News she was disappointed with the “gentle” sentence and angry that Turner still denied sexually assaulting her. “Even if the sentence is light, hopefully this will wake people up,” she said. “I want the judge to know that he ignited a tiny fire. If anything, this is a reason for all of us to speak even louder.”


Your honor,

If it is all right, for the majority of this statement I would like to address the defendant directly.

You don't know me, but you've been inside me, and that's why we're here today.

On January 17th, 2015, it was a quiet Saturday night at home. My dad made some dinner and I sat at the table with my younger sister who was visiting for the weekend. I was working full time and it was approaching my bed time. I planned to stay at home by myself, watch some TV and read, while she went to a party with her friends. Then, I decided it was my only night with her, I had nothing better to do, so why not, there’s a dumb party ten minutes from my house, I would go, dance like a fool, and embarrass my younger sister. On the way there, I joked that undergrad guys would have braces. My sister teased me for wearing a beige cardigan to a frat party like a librarian. I called myself “big mama”, because I knew I’d be the oldest one there. I made silly faces, let my guard down, and drank liquor too fast not factoring in that my tolerance had significantly lowered since college.

The next thing I remember I was in a gurney in a hallway. I had dried blood and bandages on the backs of my hands and elbow. I thought maybe I had fallen and was in an admin office on campus. I was very calm and wondering where my sister was. A deputy explained I had been assaulted. I still remained calm, assured he was speaking to the wrong person. I knew no one at this party. When I was finally allowed to use the restroom, I pulled down the hospital pants they had given me, went to pull down my underwear, and felt nothing. I still remember the feeling of my hands touching my skin and grabbing nothing. I looked down and there was nothing. The thin piece of fabric, the only thing between my vagina and anything else, was missing and everything inside me was silenced. I still don’t have words for that feeling. In order to keep breathing, I thought maybe the policemen used scissors to cut them off for evidence.

Then, I felt pine needles scratching the back of my neck and started pulling them out my hair. I thought maybe, the pine needles had fallen from a tree onto my head. My brain was talking my gut into not collapsing. Because my gut was saying, help me, help me.

I shuffled from room to room with a blanket wrapped around me, pine needles trailing behind me, I left a little pile in every room I sat in. I was asked to sign papers that said “Rape Victim” and I thought something has really happened. My clothes were confiscated and I stood naked while the nurses held a ruler to various abrasions on my body and photographed them. The three of us worked to comb the pine needles out of my hair, six hands to fill one paper bag. To calm me down, they said it’s just the flora and fauna, flora and fauna. I had multiple swabs inserted into my vagina and anus, needles for shots, pills, had a Nikon pointed right into my spread legs. I had long, pointed beaks inside me and had my vagina smeared with cold, blue paint to check for abrasions.

After a few hours of this, they let me shower. I stood there examining my body beneath the stream of water and decided, I don’t want my body anymore. I was terrified of it, I didn’t know what had been in it, if it had been contaminated, who had touched it. I wanted to take off my body like a jacket and leave it at the hospital with everything else.
On that morning, all that I was told was that I had been found behind a dumpster, potentially penetrated by a stranger, and that I should get retested for HIV because results don’t always show up immediately. But for now, I should go home and get back to my normal life. Imagine stepping back into the world with only that information. They gave me huge hugs and I walked out of the hospital into the parking lot wearing the new sweatshirt and sweatpants they provided me, as they had only allowed me to keep my necklace and shoes.

My sister picked me up, face wet from tears and contorted in anguish. Instinctively and immediately, I wanted to take away her pain. I smiled at her, I told her to look at me, I’m right here, I’m okay, everything’s okay, I’m right here. My hair is washed and clean, they gave me the strangest shampoo, calm down, and look at me. Look at these funny new sweatpants and sweatshirt, I look like a P.E. teacher, let’s go home, let’s eat something. She did not know that beneath my sweatsuit, I had scratches and bandages on my skin, my vagina was sore and had become a strange, dark color from all the prodding, my underwear was missing, and I felt too empty to continue to speak. That I was also afraid, that I was also devastated. That day we drove home and for hours in silence my younger sister held me.

My boyfriend did not know what happened, but called that day and said, “I was really worried about you last night, you scared me, did you make it home okay?” I was horrified. That’s when I learned I had called him that night in my blackout, left an incomprehensible voicemail, that we had also spoken on the phone, but I was slurring so heavily he was scared for me, that he repeatedly told me to go find [my sister]. Again, he asked me, “What happened last night? Did you make it home okay?” I said yes, and hung up to cry.

I was not ready to tell my boyfriend or parents that actually, I may have been raped behind a dumpster, but I don't know by who or when or how. If I told them, I would see the fear on their faces, and mine would multiply by tenfold, so instead I pretended the whole thing wasn't real.

I tried to push it out of my mind, but it was so heavy I didn't talk, I didn't eat, I didn't sleep, I didn't interact with anyone. After work, I would drive to a secluded place to scream. I didn't talk, I didn't eat, I didn't sleep, I didn't interact with anyone, and I became isolated from the ones I loved most. For one week after the incident, I didn't get any calls or updates about that night or what happened to me. The only symbol that proved that it hadn't just been a bad dream, was the sweatshirt from the hospital in my drawer.

One day, I was at work, scrolling through the news on my phone, and came across an article. In it, I read and learned for the first time about how I was found unconscious, with my hair disheveled, long necklace wrapped around my neck, bra pulled out of my dress, dress pulled off over my shoulders and pulled up above my waist, that I was butt naked all the way down to my boots, legs spread apart, and had been penetrated by a foreign object by someone I did not recognize. This was how I learned what happened to me, sitting at my desk reading the news at work. I learned what happened to me the same time everyone else in the world learned what happened to me. That’s when the pine needles in my hair made sense, they didn’t fall from a tree. He had taken off my underwear, his fingers had been inside of me. I don’t even know this person. I still don’t know this person. When I read about me like this, I said, this can’t be me, this can’t be me. I could not digest or accept any of this information. I could not imagine my family having to read about this online. I kept reading. In the next paragraph, I read something that I will never forgive; I read that according to him, I liked it. I liked it. Again, I do not have words for these feelings.

It’s like if you were to read an article where a car was hit, and found dented, in a ditch. But maybe the car enjoyed being hit. Maybe the other car didn’t mean to hit it, just bump it up a little bit. Cars get in accidents all the time, people aren’t always paying attention, can we really say who’s at fault.

And then, at the bottom of the article, after I learned about the graphic details of my own sexual assault, the article listed his swimming times. She was found breathing, unresponsive with her underwear six inches away from her bare stomach curled in fetal position. By the way, he’s really good at swimming. Throw in my mile time if that’s what we’re doing. I’m good at cooking, put that in there, I think the end is where you list your extracurriculars to cancel out all the sickening things that’ve happened.

The night the news came out I sat my parents down and told them that I had been assaulted, to not look at the news because it’s upsetting, just know that I’m okay, I’m right here, and I’m okay. But halfway through telling them, my mom had to hold me because I could no longer stand up.

The night after it happened, he said he didn’t know my name, said he wouldn’t be able to identify my face in a lineup, didn’t mention any dialogue between us, no words, only dancing and kissing. Dancing is a cute term; was it snapping fingers and twirling dancing, or just bodies grinding up against each other in a crowded room? I wonder if kissing was just faces sloppily pressed up against each other? When the detective asked if he had planned on taking me back to his dorm, he said no. When the detective asked how we ended up behind the dumpster, he said he didn’t know. He admitted to kissing other girls at that party, one of whom was my own sister who pushed him away. He admitted to wanting to hook up with someone. I was the wounded antelope of the herd, completely alone and vulnerable, physically unable to fend for myself, and he chose me. Sometimes I think, if I hadn’t gone, then this never would’ve happened. But then I realized, it would have happened, just to somebody else. You were about to enter four years of access to drunk girls and parties, and if this is the foot you started off on, then it is right you did not continue. The night after it happened, he said he thought I liked it because I rubbed his back. A back rub.

Never mentioned me voicing consent, never mentioned us even speaking, a back rub. One more time, in public news, I learned that my ass and vagina were completely exposed outside, my breasts had been groped, fingers had been jabbed inside me along with pine needles and debris, my bare skin and head had been rubbing against the ground behind a dumpster, while an erect freshman was humping my half naked, unconscious body. But I don’t remember, so how do I prove I didn’t like it.

I thought there’s no way this is going to trial; there were witnesses, there was dirt in my body, he ran but was caught. He’s going to settle, formally apologize, and we will both move on. Instead, I was told he hired a powerful attorney, expert witnesses, private investigators who were going to try and find details about my personal life to use against me, find loopholes in my story to invalidate me and my sister, in order to show that this sexual assault was in fact a misunderstanding. That he was going to go to any length to convince the world he had simply been confused.

I was not only told that I was assaulted, I was told that because I couldn’t remember, I technically could not prove it was unwanted. And that distorted me, damaged me, almost broke me. It is the saddest type of confusion to be told I was assaulted and nearly raped, blatantly out in the open, but we don’t know if it counts as assault yet. I had to fight for an entire year to make it clear that there was something wrong with this situation.

When I was told to be prepared in case we didn’t win, I said, I can’t prepare for that. He was guilty the minute I woke up. No one can talk me out of the hurt he caused me. Worst of all, I was warned, because he now knows you don’t remember, he is going to get to write the script. He can say whatever he wants and no one can contest it. I had no power, I had no voice, I was defenseless. My memory loss would be used against me. My testimony was weak, was incomplete, and I was made to believe that perhaps, I am not enough to win this. His attorney constantly reminded the jury, the only one we can believe is Brock, because she doesn’t remember. That helplessness was traumatizing.

Instead of taking time to heal, I was taking time to recall the night in excruciating detail, in order to prepare for the attorney’s questions that would be invasive, aggressive, and designed to steer me off course, to contradict myself, my sister, phrased in ways to manipulate my answers. Instead of his attorney saying, Did you notice any abrasions? He said, You didn’t notice any abrasions, right? This was a game of strategy, as if I could be tricked out of my own worth. The sexual assault had been so clear, but instead, here I was at the trial, answering questions like:

How old are you? How much do you weigh? What did you eat that day? Well what did you have for dinner? Who made dinner? Did you drink with dinner? No, not even water? When did you drink? How much did you drink? What container did you drink out of? Who gave you the drink? How much do you usually drink? Who dropped you off at this party? At what time? But where exactly? What were you wearing? Why were you going to this party? What' d you do when you got there? Are you sure you did that? But what time did you do that? What does this text mean? Who were you texting? When did you urinate? Where did you urinate? With whom did you urinate outside? Was your phone on silent when your sister called? Do you remember silencing it? Really because on page 53 I'd like to point out that you said it was set to ring. Did you drink in college? You said you were a party animal? How many times did you black out? Did you party at frats? Are you serious with your boyfriend? Are you sexually active with him? When did you start dating? Would you ever cheat? Do you have a history of cheating? What do you mean when you said you wanted to reward him? Do you remember what time you woke up? Were you wearing your cardigan? What color was your cardigan? Do you remember any more from that night? No? Okay, we'll let Brock fill it in.

I was pummeled with narrowed, pointed questions that dissected my personal life, love life, past life, family life, inane questions, accumulating trivial details to try and find an excuse for this guy who didn't even take the time to ask me for my name, who had me naked a handful of minutes after seeing me. After a physical assault, I was assaulted with questions designed to attack me, to say see, her facts don't line up, she's out of her mind, she's practically an alcoholic, she probably wanted to hook up, he's like an athlete right, they were both drunk, whatever, the hospital stuff she remembers is after the fact, why take it into account, Brock has a lot at stake so he's having a really hard time right now.

And then it came time for him to testify. This is where I became revictimized. I want to remind you, the night after it happened he said he never planned to take me back to his dorm. He said he didn't know why we were behind a dumpster. He got up to leave because he wasn't feeling well when he was suddenly chased and attacked. Then he learned I could not remember.

So one year later, as predicted, a new dialogue emerged. Brock had a strange new story, almost sounded like a poorly written young adult novel with kissing and dancing and hand holding and lovingly tumbling onto the ground, and most importantly in this new story, there was suddenly consent. One year after the incident, he remembered, oh yeah, by the way she actually said yes, to everything, so.

He said he had asked if I wanted to dance. Apparently I said yes. He’d asked if I wanted to go to his dorm, I said yes. Then he asked if he could finger me and I said yes. Most guys don’t ask, can I finger you? Usually there’s a natural progression of things, unfolding consensually, not a Q and A. But apparently I granted full permission. He’s in the clear. Even in his story, I only said a total of three words, yes yes yes, before he had me half naked on the ground. Future reference, if you are confused about whether a girl can consent, see if she can speak an entire sentence. You couldn’t even do that. Just one coherent string of words. Where was the confusion? This is common sense, human decency.

According to him, the only reason we were on the ground was because I fell down. Note; if a girl falls help her get back up. If she is too drunk to even walk and falls, do not mount her, hump her, take off her underwear, and insert your hand inside her vagina. If a girl falls help her up. If she is wearing a cardigan over her dress don't take it off so that you can touch her breasts. Maybe she is cold, maybe that's why she wore the cardigan. If her bare ass and legs are rubbing the pinecones and needles, while the weight of you pushes into her, get off her.

Next in the story, two Swedes on bicycles approached you and you ran. When they tackled you why didn’t say, “Stop! Everything’s okay, go ask her, she’s right over there, she’ll tell you.” I mean you had just asked for my consent, right? I was awake, right? When the policeman arrived and interviewed the evil Swede who tackled you, he was crying so hard he couldn’t speak because of what he’d seen..

Also, if you really did think they were dangerous, you just abandoned a half-naked girl to run and save yourself. No matter which way you frame it, it doesn't make sense. Your attorney has repeatedly pointed out, well we don’t know exactly when she became unconscious. And you’re right, maybe I was still fluttering my eyes and wasn’t completely limp yet. That was never the point. I was too drunk to speak English, too drunk to consent way before I was on the ground. I should have never been touched in the first place. Brock stated, “At no time did I see that she was not responding. If at any time I thought she was not responding, I would have stopped immediately.” Here’s the thing; if your plan was to stop only when I became unresponsive, then you still do not understand. You didn’t even stop when I was unconscious anyway! Someone else stopped you. Two guys on bikes noticed I wasn’t moving in the dark and had to tackle you. How did you not notice while on top of me?

You said, you would have stopped and gotten help. You say that, but I want you to explain how you would've helped me, step by step, walk me through this. I want to know, if those evil Swedes had not found me, how the night would have played out. I am asking you; Would you have pulled my underwear back on over my boots? Untangled the necklace wrapped around my neck? Closed my legs, covered me? Tucked my bra back into my dress? Would you have helped me pick the needles from my hair? Asked if the abrasions on my neck and bottom hurt? Would you then go find a friend and say, Will you help me get her somewhere warm and soft? I don't sleep when I think about the way it could have gone if the Swedes had never come. What would have happened to me? That's what you'll never have a good answer for, that's what you can't explain even after a year.

On top of all this, he claimed that I orgasmed after one minute of digital penetration. The nurse said there had been abrasions, lacerations, and dirt in my genitalia. Was that before of after I came?

To sit under oath and inform all of us, that yes I wanted it, yes I permitted it, and that you are the true victim attacked by Swedes for reasons unknown to you is appalling, is demented, is selfish, is damaging. It is enough to be suffering. It is another thing to have someone ruthlessly working to diminish the gravity of validity of this suffering.

My family had to see pictures of my head strapped to a gurney full of pine needles, of my body in the dirt with my eyes closed, hair messed up, limbs bent, and dress hiked up. And even after that, my family had to listen to your attorney say the pictures were after the fact, we can dismiss them. To say, yes her nurse confirmed there was redness and abrasions inside her, significant trauma to her genitalia, but that’s what happens when you finger someone, and he’s already admitted to that. To listen to your attorney attempt to paint a picture of me, the face of girls gone wild, as if somehow that would make it so that I had this coming for me. To listen to him say I sounded drunk on the phone because I’m silly and that’s my goofy way of speaking. To point out that in the voicemail, I said I would reward my boyfriend and we all know what I was thinking. I assure you my rewards program is non transferable, especially to any nameless man that approaches me.

He has done irreversible damage to me and my family during the trial and we have sat silently, listening to him shape the evening. But in the end, his unsupported statements and his attorney’s twisted logic fooled no one. The truth won, the truth spoke for itself.

You are guilty. Twelve jurors convicted you guilty of three felony counts beyond reasonable doubt, that’s twelve votes per count, thirty ­six yeses confirming guilt, that’s one hundred percent, unanimous guilt. And I thought finally it is over, finally he will own up to what he did, truly apologize, we will both move on and get better. ​Then I read your statement.

If you are hoping that one of my organs will implode from anger and I will die, I’m almost there. You are very close. This is not a story of another drunk college hook­up with poor decision making. Assault is not an accident. Somehow, you still don’t get it. Somehow, you still sound confused. I will now read portions of the defendant’s statement and respond to them.


Alcohol is not an excuse. Is it a factor? Yes. But alcohol was not the one who stripped me, fingered me, had my head dragging against the ground, with me almost fully naked. Having too much to drink was an amateur mistake that I admit to, but it is not criminal. Everyone in this room has had a night where they have regretted drinking too much, or knows someone close to them who has had a night where they have regretted drinking too much. Regretting drinking is not the same as regretting sexual assault. We were both drunk, the difference is I did not take off your pants and underwear, touch you inappropriately, and run away. That's the difference.


I'm not mad because you didn't ask for my number. Even if you did know me, I would not want be in this situation. My own boyfriend knows me, but if he asked to finger me behind a dumpster, I would slap him. No girl wants to be in this situation. Nobody. I don't care if you know their phone number or not.


Again, you were not wrong for drinking. Everyone around you was not sexually assaulting me.

You were wrong for doing what nobody else was doing, which was pushing your erect dick in your pants against my naked, defenseless body concealed in a dark area, where partygoers could no longer see or protect me, and own my sister could not find me. Sipping fireball is not your crime. Peeling off and discarding my underwear like a candy wrapper to insert your finger into my body, is where you went wrong. Why am I still explaining this.


Your attorney is not your scapegoat, he represents you. Did your attorney say some incredulously infuriating, degrading things? Absolutely. He said you had an erection, because it was cold. I have no words.


Speak out against campus drinking culture. That's what we're speaking out against? You think that's what I've spent the past year fighting for? Not awareness about campus sexual assault, or rape, or learning to recognize consent. Campus drinking culture. Down with Jack Daniels. Down with Skyy Vodka. If you want talk to high school kids about drinking go to an AA meeting. You realize, having a drinking problem is different than drinking and then forcefully trying to have sex with someone? Show men how to respect women, not how to drink less.

Drinking culture and the sexual promiscuity that goes along with that. Goes along with that, like a side effect, like fries on the side of your order. Where does promiscuity even come into play? I don't see headlines that read, Brock Turner, Guilty of drinking too much and the sexual promiscuity that goes along with that. Campus Sexaul Assault. There's your first powerpoint slide.

I have done enough explaining. You do not get to shrug your shoulders and be confused anymore. You do not get to pretend that there were no red flags. You do not get to not know why you ran. You have been convicted of violating me with malicious intent, and all you can admit to is consuming alcohol. Do not talk about the sad way your life was upturned because alcohol made you do bad things. Figure out how to take responsibility for your own conduct.

Lastly you said, I want to show people that one night of drinking can ruin a life.

A life, one life, yours, you forgot about mine. Let me rephrase for you, I want to show people that one night of drinking can ruin two lives. You and me. You are the cause, I am the effect. You have dragged me through this hell with you, dipped me back into that night again and again. You knocked down both our towers, I collapsed at the same time you did. If you think I was spared, came out unscathed, that today I ride off into sunset, while you suffer the greatest blow, you are mistaken. Nobody wins. We have all been devastated, we have all been trying to find some meaning in all of this suffering. Your damage was concrete; stripped of titles, degrees, enrollment. My damage was internal, unseen, I carry it with me. You took away my worth, my privacy, my energy, my time, my safety, my intimacy, my confidence, my own voice, until today.

See one thing we have in common is that we were both unable to get up in the morning. I am no stranger to suffering. You made me a victim. In newspapers my name was "unconscious intoxicated woman", ten syllables, and nothing more than that. For a while, I believed that that was all I was. I had to force myself to relearn my real name, my identity. To relearn that this is not all that I am. That I am not just a drunk victim at a frat party found behind a dumpster, while you are the All-American swimmer at a top university, innocent until proven guilty, with so much at stake. I am a human being who has been irreversibly hurt, who waited a year to figure out if I was worth something.

My independence, natural joy, gentleness, and steady lifestyle I had been enjoying became distorted beyond recognition. I became closed off, angry, self deprecating, tired, irritable, empty. The isolation at times was unbearable. You cannot give me back the life I had before that night either. While you worry about your shattered reputation, I refrigerated spoons every night so when I woke up, and my eyes were puffy from crying, I would hold the spoons to my eyes to lessen the swelling so that I could see. I showed up an hour late to work every morning, excused myself to cry in the stairwells, I can tell you all the best places in that building to cry where no one can hear you. The pain became so bad that I had to explain the private details to my boss to let her know why I was leaving. I needed time because continuing day to day was not possible. I used my savings to go as far away as I could possibly be. I did not return to work full time as I knew I’d have to take weeks off in the future for the hearing and trial, that were constantly being rescheduled. My life was put on hold for over a year, my structure had collapsed.

I can't sleep alone at night without having a light on, like a five year old, because I have nightmares of being touched where I cannot wake up, I did this thing where I waited until the sun came up and I felt safe enough to sleep. For three months, I went to bed at six o'clock in the morning.

I used to pride myself on my independence, now I am afraid to go on walks in the evening, to attend social events with drinking among friends where I should be comfortable being. I have become a little barnacle always needing to be at someone's side, to have my boyfriend standing next to me, sleeping beside me, protecting me. It is embarrassing how feeble I feel, how timidly I move through life, always guarded, ready to defend myself, ready to be angry.

You have no idea how hard I have worked to rebuild parts of me that are still weak. It took me eight months to even talk about what happened. I could no longer connect with friends, with everyone around me. I would scream at my boyfriend, my own family whenever they brought this up. You never let me forget what happened to me. At the of end of the hearing, the trial, I was too tired to speak. I would leave drained, silent. I would go home turn off my phone and for days I would not speak. You bought me a ticket to a planet where I lived by myself. Every time a new article come out, I lived with the paranoia that my entire hometown would find out and know me as the girl who got assaulted. I didn't want anyone's pity and am still learning to accept victim as part of my identity. You made my own hometown an uncomfortable place to be.

Someday, you can pay me back for my ambulance ride and therapy. You cannot give me back my sleepless nights. The way I have broken down sobbing uncontrollably if I’m watching a movie and a woman is harmed, to say it lightly, this experience has expanded my empathy for other victims. I have lost weight from stress, when people would comment I told them I’ve been running a lot lately. There are times I did not want to be touched. I have to relearn that I am not fragile, I am capable, I am wholesome, not just livid and weak.

I want to say this. All the crying, the hurting you have imposed on me, I can take it. When I see my younger sister hurting, when she is unable to keep up in school, when she is deprived of joy, when she is not sleeping, when she is crying so hard on the phone she is barely breathing, telling me over and over again she is sorry for leaving me alone that night, sorry sorry sorry, when she feels more guilt than you, then I do not forgive you. That night I had called her to try and find her, but you found me first. Your attorney’s closing statement began, “[Her sister] said she was fine and who knows her better than her sister.” You tried to use my own sister against me? Your points of attack were so weak, so low, it was almost embarrassing. You do not touch her.

If you think I was spared, came out unscathed, that today I ride off into sunset, while you suffer the greatest blow, you are mistaken. Nobody wins. We have all been devastated, we have all been trying to find some meaning in all of this suffering.

You should have never done this to me. Secondly, you should have never made me fight so long to tell you, you should have never done this to me. But here we are. The damage is done, no one can undo it. And now we both have a choice. We can let this destroy us, I can remain angry and hurt and you can be in denial, or we can face it head on, I accept the pain, you accept the punishment, and we move on.

Your life is not over, you have decades of years ahead to rewrite your story. The world is huge, it is so much bigger than Palo Alto and Stanford, and you will make a space for yourself in it where you can be useful and happy. But right now, you do not get to shrug your shoulders and be confused anymore. You do not get to pretend that there were no red flags. You have been convicted of violating me, intentionally, forcibly, sexually, with malicious intent, and all you can admit to is consuming alcohol. Do not talk about the sad way your life was upturned because alcohol made you do bad things. Figure out how to take responsibility for your own conduct.

I believe, that one day, you will understand all of this better. I hope you will become a better more honest person who can properly use this story to prevent another story like this from ever happening again. I fully support your journey to healing, to rebuilding your life, because that is the only way you'll begin to help others.

Now to address the sentencing. When I read the probation officer's report, I was in disbelief, consumed by anger which eventually quieted down to profound sadness. My statements have been slimmed down to distortion and taken out of context. I fought hard during this trial and will not have the outcome minimized by a probation officer who attempted to evaluate my current state and my wishes in a fifteen minute conversation, the majority of which was spent answering questions I had about the legal system. The context is also important. Brock had yet to issue a statement, and I had not read his remarks.

My life has been on hold for over a year, a year of anger, anguish and uncertainty, until a jury of my peers rendered a judgment that validated the injustices I had endured. Had Brock admitted guilt and remorse and offered to settle early on, I would have considered a lighter sentence, respecting his honesty, grateful to be able to move our lives forward. Instead he took the risk of going to trial, added insult to injury and forced me to relive the hurt as details about my personal life and sexual assault were brutally dissected before the public. He pushed me and my family through a year of inexplicable, unnecessary suffering, and should face the consequences of challenging his crime, of putting my pain into question, of making us wait so long for justice.

I told the probation officer I do not want Brock to rot away in prison. I did not say he does not deserve to be behind bars. The probation officer’s recommendation of a year or less in county jail is a soft time­out, a mockery of the seriousness of his assaults, an insult to me and all women. It gives the message that a stranger can be inside you without proper consent and he will receive less than what has been defined as the minimum sentence. Probation should be denied. I also told the probation officer that what I truly wanted was for Brock to get it, to understand and admit to his wrongdoing.

Unfortunately, after reading the defendant's statement, I am severely disappointed and feel that he has failed to exhibit sincere remorse or responsibility for his conduct. I fully respected his right to a trial, but even after twelve jurors unanimously convicted him guilty of three felonies, all he has admitted to doing is ingesting alcohol. Someone who cannot take full accountability for his actions does not deserve a mitigating sentence. It is deeply offensive that he would try and dilute rape with a suggestion of promiscuity. By definition rape is the absence of promiscuity, rape is the absence of consent, and it perturbs me deeply that he can't even see that distinction.

The probation officer factored in that the defendant is youthful and has no prior convictions. In my opinion, he is old enough to know what he did was wrong. When you are eighteen in this country you can go to war. When you are nineteen, you are old enough to pay the consequences for attempting to rape someone. He is young, but he is old enough to know better.

As this is a first offense I can see where leniency would beckon. On the other hand, as a society, we cannot forgive everyone's first sexual assault or digital rape. It doesn't make sense. The seriousness of rape has to be communicated clearly, we should not create a culture that suggests we learn that rape is wrong through trial and error. The consequences of sexual assault needs to be severe enough that people feel enough fear to exercise good judgment even if they are drunk, severe enough to be preventative.

The probation officer weighed the fact that he has surrendered a hard earned swimming scholarship. How fast Brock swims does not lessen the severity of what happened to me, and should not lessen the severity of his punishment. If a first time offender from an underprivileged background was accused of three felonies and displayed no accountability for his actions other than drinking, what would his sentence be? The fact that Brock was an athlete at a private university should not be seen as an entitlement to leniency, but as an opportunity to send a message that sexual assault is against the law regardless of social class.

The Probation Officer has stated that this case, when compared to other crimes of similar nature, may be considered less serious due to the defendant’s level of intoxication. It felt serious. That’s all I’m going to say.

What has he done to demonstrate that he deserves a break? He has only apologized for drinking and has yet to define what he did to me as sexual assault, he has revictimized me continually, relentlessly. He has been found guilty of three serious felonies and it is time for him to accept the consequences of his actions. He will not be quietly excused.

He is a lifetime sex registrant. That doesn't expire. Just like what he did to me doesn't expire, doesn't just go away after a set number of years. It stays with me, it's part of my identity, it has forever changed the way I carry myself, the way I live the rest of my life.

A year has gone by and he has had lots of time on his hands. Has he been seeing a psychologist?

What has he done in this past year to show he's been progressing? If he says he wants to implement programs, what has he done to show for it?

Throughout incarceration I hope he is provided with appropriate therapy and resources to rebuild his life. I request that he educates himself about the issue of campus sexual assault. I hope he accepts proper punishment and pushes himself to reenter society as a better person.

To conclude, I want to say thank you. To everyone from the intern who made me oatmeal when I woke up at the hospital that morning, to the deputy who waited beside me, to the nurses who calmed me, to the detective who listened to me and never judged me, to my advocates who stood unwaveringly beside me, to my therapist who taught me to find courage in vulnerability, to my boss for being kind and understanding, to my incredible parents who teach me how to turn pain into strength, to my friends who remind me how to be happy, to my boyfriend who is patient and loving, to my unconquerable sister who is the other half of my heart, to Alaleh, my idol, who fought tirelessly and never doubted me. Thank you to everyone involved in the trial for their time and attention. Thank you to girls across the nation that wrote cards to my DA to give to me, so many strangers who cared for me.

Most importantly, thank you to the two men who saved me, who I have yet to meet. I sleep with two bicycles that I drew taped above my bed to remind myself there are heroes in this story. That we are looking out for one another. To have known all of these people, to have felt their protection and love, is something I will never forget.

And finally, to girls everywhere, I am with you. On nights when you feel alone, I am with you. When people doubt you or dismiss you, I am with you. I fought everyday for you. So never stop fighting, I believe you. As the author Anne Lamott once wrote, “Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining.” Although I can’t save every boat, I hope that by speaking today, you absorbed a small amount of light, a small knowing that you can’t be silenced, a small satisfaction that justice was served, a small assurance that we are getting somewhere, and a big, big knowing that you are important, unquestionably, you are untouchable, you are beautiful, you are to be valued, respected, undeniably, every minute of every day, you are powerful and nobody can take that away from you. To girls everywhere, I am with you.

Thank you.
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everything [05 Jun 2016|01:52am]
everything i experience doesn’t just go away after a set number of years. It stays with me, it’s part of my identity, it has forever changed the way I carry myself, the way I live the rest of my life.
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asshole lawyers [11 May 2016|07:05pm]
It's not extortion, extortion involves a threat of some sort which I clearly never made. This is a request to rectify your mistake. Obviously you don't have to, but at least a part of my request would be nice considering it was your mistake and you wasted more of my time and money just getting to your office. All of this could have easily been resolved last week when Kate gave you the money to give to me. She's paying you a bunch of money to handle her situation and you're making things way more unnecessarily complicated than it has to be.

-----Original Message-----
From: Charles Fountain <charles@streckerlegal.com>
To: Viva Sigal Sahar <divavivalefreek@aol.com>
Sent: Wed, May 11, 2016 6:43 pm
Subject: Re: Meeting

I do not respond to extortion.

seriously bro.. stop being a dick
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