  This is a continuation of the previous entry... but for livejourmal users, this is the story...: I was about 19 at the time.
Been having shit loads of Claudia trouble. You remember; I was a mess of pain. So I go up to Julian to refuel my spirituality and reconnect to the world. Feeling awesome and driving home in my little red celica wearing my bathingsuit top and shorts. I was in heaven.
Speeding down the 78 from the foothills with all the windows down, music blasting, intoxicated by the orange blossoms in the San Pascual Valley. I was alive. Refreshed and relieved to finally get a break. I pulled up to a light next to the North County Fair mall. On my way to Del Dios to take me home to Mom and Dads. My driver-side window was open. Hey, chica. (loud kissing sounds, some whistles) Where you going? I remained indifferent, pretending he wasnt talking to me.
(more kissing sounds) Yo baby! Whats your name? Ok, so I /was/ 19 and pretty fucking hot at that point in time. But thats not the issue. I rolled up my window without reacting. I was still enraged with men, and I thought it best to try to make the interaction go away rather than replying to him. Then things started hitting my car. My closed window. Things bigger than a golf ball but not as heavy.
I put the car in neutral and pulled the E-brake. Fury took hold of me. out of nowhere, this man was pounding his fist on my buttons. I opened the door and got out of my car, right there in a four lane road filled with cars, waiting for the light to change. Drivers and passengers watching me, I could see it in the corner of my eye. Nostrils flared, eyes ablaze with vengeance. The man, a just-under 30ish Mexican dude sitting shotgun next to a WOMAN. He frantically apologized, apparently noting the violence in my eyes. [btw this was when my rape still fucked with me. and I was lifting a lot of weights pretending to be stronger in my endless fight with the Claudia situation. ] I was pissed. Just sublimating it as a good girl tries to do. What happened next? Me, standing over this man in the passenger seat of an 80s model Nissan?
In front of God and everyone, standing angrily in an underwire black bikini top and foxy shorts, no shoes, looking my 19 year old best. I spit in his face. I was sucking on my tongue as it was, trying to defer the rage to something actively physical. Sucking, sucking on my tongue, my mouth pursed and protruding, gathering momentum and saliva. I spit in his face.
Turned around, got back in my little celica. The light turned, and I went on my way. Coolly, confidently, as if nothing happened. I did see a woman driving a sadan waiting behind me, out at the limit of my peripheral vision. Her mouth was wide open in shock. Two blocks away, I pulled into a residential neighborhood and parked against the curb. Hands were shaking. No witnesses in sight. I cried. The sum total of that energy wasnt released; only a fraction.
And I am a woman. I needed to cry to exhaust it. Not throw a fist. Thats both my most celebrated moment and my most shameful moment of my anger. I think Ive only told a couple of folks about that Claudia being one she knows everything. And Bryan. Just felt like a story I wanted to tell. All the subtext of feeling preyed upon in the world. Qualifying my behaviour with a flourish of a dramatic narrative. For explanation and justification. 
