It Could Have Been a Brilliant Career
Nnnrgh. I'm sorry I'm so far behind on LJ, but pretty much all I've had time for lately is school and sleep. Unfortunately, that situation is likely to continue until I graduate this summer. I have been Twittering some, so if you're really desperate to hear me bitch about work, you can follow me on there. I will more than likely follow you back! I'm @vigilante_wake.
A couple of interesting things happened today, though. This afternoon, I was trail running at a local state park when I saw a dude dressed completely in camo hanging out on the path, looking shady. As I got closer to him, I realized that what I thought was a backpack was actually a fucking crossbow! My mind immediately began playing horror movie scenarios, but I reminded myself that it was deer season and he was probably just a hunter. I had already passed him and was resisting the urge to look around and make sure he wasn't going to shoot me in the back when I went "Waaaaiiiiiit a minute! Hunting is illegal in state parks!" Of course I wasn't going to confront him due to the aforementioned crossbow, but I managed to warn another hiker I passed: "Um, there's a guy with a crossbow back there..."
Life in rural Ohio is hardcore, yo. One minute you're just hiking along, and then it's BOOM! Poachers! Seriously though, that could have been really dangerous. I'm glad I was wearing a red shirt today, but I easily could have been wearing one of my dark-colored ones. I'm probably going to call the park service and report the guy, because even though he's long gone and they won't catch him, the rangers might step up their presence a bit. In the mean time, I need to hike only while wearing bright clothing and making a lot of very human noises, preferably something like singing "I'm not a deer! Please don't shoot me! La la la la la!"
I remember when the only illegal activity I had to worry about running in to in the woods was teenagers smoking pot. *sigh*
This evening was the annual victims of domestic violence candlelight memorial that the agency I work for sponsors. I had to run the soundboard at the event. Unfortunately, our current shelter clients decided to sit in the very back row of the church, right in front of the soundboard. I'm pretty sure they thought I was back there babysitting them, especially since one of them kept turning around and giving me dirty looks. Just trying to work the microphones, guys.
The ceremony itself was very powerful. A survivor of domestic violence shared her story and then the grandmother of a little girl who was killed by one of her parents spoke. At the end, one of my co-workers read the names of all of the people who had died as a result of domestic violence in our county since the 1970s. She lit a candle for each name, but asked that any friends or family members of the deceased come forward to light that candle. After one name, two women approached the altar. They were surprised to see each other. "Oh! Are you here for Diane?" They embraced, and after lighting the candle, they returned to their seats arm in arm.
Sadly, the need for such an event was just reinforced to me today. Last month, I went on a SART call out at the ER where the victim was just a mess. Bruises and bite marks everywhere, and she was bleeding from her rectum where he had raped her. It was horrible. But the police and the prosecutor's office don't want to charge the guy who did it because A. The woman was drunk at the time of the incident (which makes rape OK, apparently) and she tends to be out of it at the best of times because she has lupus and some other serious medical conditions, and B. The guy is related to someone in the police department or prosecutor's office, I'm not sure which. My boss called me in today to go over again what exactly happened at the hospital, especially when the detective came to interview the victim. The detective told me to wait with the victim's mother in the waiting room while he talked to the victim. Well, it turns out that I am allowed to be with the victim while she's being interviewed and it's actually preferable if I am. The police have been lying to me for as long as I've been doing this job. That's almost incomprehensible. It's disgusting. Because I wasn't in the room, the detective is trying to just dismiss everything the victim told him. I just...don't even know how to react.
I wanted to write more and be more coherent, but I'm too angry.
A couple of interesting things happened today, though. This afternoon, I was trail running at a local state park when I saw a dude dressed completely in camo hanging out on the path, looking shady. As I got closer to him, I realized that what I thought was a backpack was actually a fucking crossbow! My mind immediately began playing horror movie scenarios, but I reminded myself that it was deer season and he was probably just a hunter. I had already passed him and was resisting the urge to look around and make sure he wasn't going to shoot me in the back when I went "Waaaaiiiiiit a minute! Hunting is illegal in state parks!" Of course I wasn't going to confront him due to the aforementioned crossbow, but I managed to warn another hiker I passed: "Um, there's a guy with a crossbow back there..."
Life in rural Ohio is hardcore, yo. One minute you're just hiking along, and then it's BOOM! Poachers! Seriously though, that could have been really dangerous. I'm glad I was wearing a red shirt today, but I easily could have been wearing one of my dark-colored ones. I'm probably going to call the park service and report the guy, because even though he's long gone and they won't catch him, the rangers might step up their presence a bit. In the mean time, I need to hike only while wearing bright clothing and making a lot of very human noises, preferably something like singing "I'm not a deer! Please don't shoot me! La la la la la!"
I remember when the only illegal activity I had to worry about running in to in the woods was teenagers smoking pot. *sigh*
This evening was the annual victims of domestic violence candlelight memorial that the agency I work for sponsors. I had to run the soundboard at the event. Unfortunately, our current shelter clients decided to sit in the very back row of the church, right in front of the soundboard. I'm pretty sure they thought I was back there babysitting them, especially since one of them kept turning around and giving me dirty looks. Just trying to work the microphones, guys.
The ceremony itself was very powerful. A survivor of domestic violence shared her story and then the grandmother of a little girl who was killed by one of her parents spoke. At the end, one of my co-workers read the names of all of the people who had died as a result of domestic violence in our county since the 1970s. She lit a candle for each name, but asked that any friends or family members of the deceased come forward to light that candle. After one name, two women approached the altar. They were surprised to see each other. "Oh! Are you here for Diane?" They embraced, and after lighting the candle, they returned to their seats arm in arm.
Sadly, the need for such an event was just reinforced to me today. Last month, I went on a SART call out at the ER where the victim was just a mess. Bruises and bite marks everywhere, and she was bleeding from her rectum where he had raped her. It was horrible. But the police and the prosecutor's office don't want to charge the guy who did it because A. The woman was drunk at the time of the incident (which makes rape OK, apparently) and she tends to be out of it at the best of times because she has lupus and some other serious medical conditions, and B. The guy is related to someone in the police department or prosecutor's office, I'm not sure which. My boss called me in today to go over again what exactly happened at the hospital, especially when the detective came to interview the victim. The detective told me to wait with the victim's mother in the waiting room while he talked to the victim. Well, it turns out that I am allowed to be with the victim while she's being interviewed and it's actually preferable if I am. The police have been lying to me for as long as I've been doing this job. That's almost incomprehensible. It's disgusting. Because I wasn't in the room, the detective is trying to just dismiss everything the victim told him. I just...don't even know how to react.
I wanted to write more and be more coherent, but I'm too angry.