Rants from a Cynical Raven











Sorry to everyone who reads my posts. I apologize for leaving for so long. Dealing with my dad’s death has hit me in different ways and I just don’t know how to handle it sometimes. I took a little hiatus but I’ll try to keep posting regularly to keep you all updated on my rants to the world.

GOOD NEWS EVERYONE!!

Well, let’s start off with the good stuff! I’ve become much better with my drumming than I was a few months ago. I’m still enjoying it even tho I totally screwed up my back playing for about 7 – 8 hours with my crew. I’ve been taking pain meds and rubbing this aspirin cream into my muscles for a week or so now. It’s helping a bit but it’s not a solution to the problem. I either need to get me a back brace to keep my back straight, or they need to invent a set of Tama drums that are my size.

In other news:

HOLY SHIT IS THAT SOME MIYAVI!? YOU BET YOUR ASS THAT’S SOME MIYAVI!! LOOK AT THAT BITCH WIELD A GUITAR!! GONNA SELL OUT SOME MOTHER FUCKING CONCERTS WITH THAT GUITAR!!!

Yes folks, on June 10, 2010 I was present at the House of Blues concert for Miyavi himself. I have to say, I’ve never been disappointed at a concert of his. No matter what he always seems to blow me away. When ever he plays it’s like he channels a god into his fingertips and his hands move at speeds that my eyes can’t follow. Miyavi always seems to hold the audience in his hand and when he tells you to jump, you don’t even ask how high you just do it. My nephew recently got into Miyavi through the miracles of YouTube and when I heard this I bought him the tickets to the concert. He had no idea where he was going until he got there with my sister. My nephew is a little musician himself, and I thought it was really great how he could respect another musician despite the fact that they don’t speak the same language. For the first 20 minutes of the show all my nephew could do was stare at Miyavi in awe. Watching his fingers dance across the strings of his guitar, I could see my nephew’s eyes light up, and that made it all worth it.

This isn't them, obviously I met some nice girls in the line for Miyavi and it was really fun watching how excited they could get. I remember being young and having dreams of meeting some one I admired and respected. I had fun making sure they didn’t get beat up in the mild mosh pit and head banging along with them. Lovely ladies, it was a pleasure to meet you, I can’t wait to see you in line again!

After the concert I was walking with my nephew back to the car when I ran into some of my fans. As much as I love my little fangirls it really can be annoying to be in so much pain and being so tired and having to stop every two seconds to appease their fandom. Seriously one actually got on her knees and begged, the other asked me to sign her arm. All this my nephew witnessed. YOU ALL THINK I’M TALKING OUT OF MY ASS!! HA!! NOW I HAVE A WITNESS!! -Ahem- So to my fangirls, I love you, but please. When I start walking away and start looking really tired and start dragging my nephew behind me, I would like to go home. Thank you!

So about a week ago I got up for work and started to drive down the freeway for the 45 minute drive to my workplace when I started to feel kind of light headed. After a two second “I don’t feel so good” I started to vomit like my good pumpkin friend here. While I was driving. This has never happened to me before so I kind of started to flip out. Some how, some way I was able to pull to the side of the road and finish being sick. After a few shaky minutes I called my boss to let him know I wasn’t coming in, I was LITERALLY covered head to toe in vomit at the side of the freeway. I tried calling two other co-workers but I eventually had to call Mr. Bloo on his day off.  I was able to wake up my mom and she took care of me. Got me cleaned up and helped me clean my car. Moms’ are awesome. Very awesome. EVERYONE GO HUG YOUR MOM. NAOW. My boss seems to think that I got sick like that because of the stress of losing my dad, and honestly I agree with him. All kinds of crazy shit happen because of loss, who knows what else I might go through. Le Sigh.

SIDE NOTE!!!! Did you know that “Cougar” in French is “Puma” ? Do they even have cougars in France?

So…I’m sure you all have a friend, a friend that is amazing sometimes but kind of a bitch the other times. It’s usually the bitch parts that seem to get in the way of friendships with these people. I have one such friend, who is leaning very heavily in the bitch department recently. I don’t know what their deal is, I don’t know what I did or maybe they just up and decided they don’t like me. All I know is that they need to either live with it, talk to me about it, or walk the fuck out of my life. I’m tired of people thinking they can just say whatever to me and think it doesn’t hurt or that I’ll just put up with it. I’m just tired of it.

So that’s about it for now. Just living it day by day. Love you all.

And remember: A Dry Sponge, is a Happy Sponge

Advertisements


So many of my readers may recall that my father has been rather ill with lung cancer and that Hospice has been handling his case rather well. That is until this past Saturday. It started out like any other day, really, I got up for work, waved goodbye to my father, fed the cats and did my time at work. Afterwards, I visited my friend, we’ll call her “Bird” who is pregnant and is due in a few months. I talked with her and helped with what I could before I was called back by the family for dinner and dad helping. I got home around 7:30-8ish that evening and went right into my fathers’ room to check on him. He was laying flat on his back and breathing very strangely but for the most part seemed to be asleep. I felt uneasy about it but left him alone, my father hadn’t been able to sleep for quite sometime so I thought it was good he was sleeping. I went upstairs to announce my arrival to my mother (at this time my sister and her boyfriend came home with shopping/making dinner stuff) and my mom was surprised that my dad was “still” asleep. Apparently he’d been asleep since 1:30 that afternoon. That wasn’t right at all, but even though my mother and I had concerns we still thought it better to let him sleep.

So while my sister and her boyfriend made dinner I played some God of War and relaxed for a little while. A little while later my sister came in to let me know dinner was ready, she had also expressed her concern for the way my father was breathing but didn’t want to wake him since she isn’t -that- familiar with him. So I got up to go to the kitchen and my mother went to wake my father and ask him if he’d like some dinner. A few seconds later I got a really bad feeling (my mother says she was calling me but neither my sister, her boyfriend, nor I heard her) so following my gut I walked into my fathers’ bedroom. All the lights were on, my mother looked at me and tried to wave me over, my father had his eyes open but nothing was there. You ever read a manga or watch an anime where the character is being controlled and they take the “reflection lines” out of the eyes to symbolize that they are empty inside? I saw that in real life that night. There was absolutely no one inside my fathers’ head.

So my mother and I are trying to wake my dad up “Dad! Dad can you hear me?!” and he would suddenly be there, and stare at me with the most frightened look in his eyes before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he’d be gone again. My mother was trying to help him sit up and he’d start flailing, like he was having a seizure, but it wasn’t a seizure, and I’d try to get him to wake up. By this time my sister and her boyfriend are in the doorway trying to process what the hell is going on and I am on the phone with Hospice trying to get some one on the phone to send a nurse right cussing now. I cannot describe to you the feeling of watching your father begin to pass away right in front of you and the feeling of helplessness that it brings. I pray that you never have to experience this situation, ever. I left the room to talk to the Hospice operator and my sister and her boyfriend took over with my mother there. I walked back into the room and I guess I missed my mom, she had ran upstairs to put pants on so she could ride in the ambulance (if we were sending for one) Which left us to try and keep my father up, I was on the phone, holding my father in my arms when he started to spasm, I started to cry trying to get this woman on the phone to understand that my father wasn’t responding. My sister (a thousand blessings on you, my sister) took the phone from me and got things done. I was still able to function, I just couldn’t speak. My sisters’ boyfriend was there trying to communicate with my father “what do you need? Tell me, come on” and we tried to keep him awake. At one point, my father looked at me and said “what happened?” before his eyes glazed over and he started to “sink” again. My mother came in, and she got my sisters’ boyfriend to call 911 on his phone. We were going to the hospital. NOW.

My sister, again, bless her, was arguing with the 911 dispatcher trying to get her to understand that we could ask him all the questions she wanted us to ask him but he wasn’t going to respond. My mother and I were still trying to wake my father up…I know this won’t make much sense, but I could see him slipping away. I’ve seen some scary things, been in scary situations, that is the scariest thing I have ever seen or been a part of in my life. My sisters’ boyfriend ran outside to flag down the EMTs and they arrived almost immediately after that, I left my mother in the room with my father and EMTs and decided to get dressed, eat dinner and potty break. When I went back into the room they had my father on oxygen, and he seemed to be doing a little better, but still not aware. When they loaded my father onto the stretcher he fought the EMTs, he had no idea what was happening. We loaded up and all went to the ER after the ambulance. The entire time all I can think is “why? what happened?” my mind was both racing and blank at the same time.

So after waiting what seemed like forever I finally got to go see my father. He was up, looking around, and had no idea who I was for a few seconds. That….hurt….a lot. He recovered and remembered me almost immediately but still…I asked him what day it was. He didn’t know, so my mother asked him what year it was and he got that right, but for some reason he kept thinking it was March. After being there for hours (and have a SHOCKINGLY low blood pressure stabilized) my father got transfered to the SICU to spend the night. He was amazingly loopy, had no idea what had happened but he was on oxygen and in the hospital. He was going to be ok. Before we left the doctor shared the concern with us that my father had O.D.’d on Morphine, the medicine Hospice had told us to give to him. Normally, it’s great for pain, but if it isn’t given a chance to clear out of the system before the next dose it can build up in the body. Which is what happened to my father, almost stopping his heart and slowing down the function of his lungs.

My father came home Wednesday, he’s fully recovered and yelling at everyone again (lol) he’s really weak in the legs, but with exercise he should be ok. My family, needless to say, is very angry and confused at Hospice, and wondering how trained professionals could make this kind of mistake. Not just a mistake, but a huge one. If my mother had not woken my father up, he would have died that night. We are still using Hospice, but we’re having a meeting with them on Monday to figure out what went wrong, why, and if we still want the same team to work with my father. My opinion? Not the teams fault really since all the medications have to go through a doctor first, but they still should have known about the Morphine build up. I will wait for answers before I point fingers, but I am not very happy. I got home at 5 that morning thinking I had almost seen my father die, and had nightmares for two days. Some one better give me an answer.

In happier news, since this incident I have taken a new look on my life and decided that I am finally going to lose the weight I’ve been meaning to lose and eat healthier. I’m going to get out there and try my best and I’m not going to let my drive waver this time. I want to be happy with my body and happy with myself. So I’ve started a diet, and my sister has really jumped on the wagon with me. She’s come up with food ideas and gym schedules that we can take and sis, if you’re reading this, I love you. You are an amazing and fantastic person and I don’t know what I’d do without you. She’s taken shifts with me to help my father get up every 2 hours all night, and didn’t complain once. Everyone give her a round of applause. Oh right…I was talking about my diet!

This is Daruma, he is a symbol of perseverance and good luck. When you have a goal, you make a wish (not really a wish to Daruma but to yourself, he’s just there to give you encouragement) and draw in one eye. Once you reach your goal, you draw in the other eye and then donate him to a temple as a thank you. I did this, and honestly I didn’t know what to expect it to do, I did it more for fun. However, I find myself waking up in the morning and seeing it, and it reminds me of my promise to myself, I also find myself talking to it. So it’s really become the symbol of motivation that it was meant to be for me. Having him look at me with only one eye has really made me feel like I should work hard, not just for me, but once I reach my goal he’ll finally be able to look around with two eyes!! (lol!)

So that’s it I suppose, all that’s happened in the past few days. Oh! Also! Remember my awesome friend “Vin” I was talking about a few posts ago? She’s still awesome! Once she heard about my dad she helped me out by drawing a tattoo design to help me remember/commemorate my father. It is the coolest thing and I don’t want to post it here cause you’ll steal her awesome design!! So I won’t post it until I’ve got it tattoo’d but Vin! YOU ARE AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU!! Vin even went to the Japanese market with me to buy Daruma and healthy snacks, cause she’s awesome.  So that’s all she wrote (literally since I’m heading to bed after this) and to all my new friends that I’ve made recently that are trying to keep in contact with me. I am very sorry, I know I’m not very talkative these days and I’m sorry about that, it’s not fair to you and I apologize! Here are some pictures to make you guys smile after my horribly depressing post. Good night!

LOL WHAT?!

and last pic!

those crazy Japanese!



Well I will be the first to tell you that I carry some old scars, scars that I should most likely let go of but for some reason can’t. They cling to my underbelly like some parasite and every once in awhile I feel the tug that signifies it’s sucking away a little more of my life.  Yes folks, it’s going to be one of THOSE posts…

Valhalla High School, my Alma Mater. It will always hold a special place in my heart as a school that changed me forever. I don’t mean in a “hooray my life has new meaning everything is so clear to me now” kind of way. I mean a “oh…so this is how fucked up the world is” kind of way. Here, allow me to give you an example. For those of you who know me, this story is familiar to you, skip ahead please.

Back in my Freshman year of high school I used to take the bus back and forth, my home was quite far from school so I had to take several school buses to get to where I wanted to go. Now, before I say anything further I want it known that I have friends from every social group, from every race, every gender, and every religious preference. I have nothing against these people, it just so happens that this group was bad. On this bus I got on, literally there was nothing but Mexicans on one side of the bus, and Arabic speakers on the other side (I don’t really know what background they were from, but I recognized the Arabic, so really they could have been from every where) any who! Towards the back was 1 Asian boy, and I thought to myself “Self,” I said, “let’s go hang with the only other kid that looks like the odd man out!” and so I did. We chatted for a little bit but for the most part left each other alone.

So the other kids start making fun of the Asian kid. Me, being the person that I am, defended him when common sense would have told me to keep my mouth shut. I suppose I said something that struck a nerve with these people, because the next thing I know I’m pulled out of my seat and thrown onto the floor of the bus. I was kicked, pulled, beat, had glass bottles broken on my back, food stuck in my hair and finally they held me down. Don’t ask me to tell you where the hell they got them, but these kids had giant staples. Like, industrial size staples that they shoved into the back of my neck while they held me down. I was let off the bus at the end of my street and I walked home. I don’t really remember much except thinking that my mother was going to kill me because I got blood on my new school clothes. I remember seeing my dad, or some one, at the house and saying that I didn’t want to ride the bus any more. All in all I received 2 bruised ribs, don’t remember if they were cracked, a bloody nose, I still carry scars on my back from the glass bottles and had to have the staples removed by a physician and if you look you will see the puncture marks on my neck.

My mother, needless to say, was furious and held a meeting with the vice-principal and associates. I won’t go into details, but all they did was say “oh that’s too bad” and did nothing else. My life at that school was hell every day ever since. Literally every day was spent either protecting myself or protecting a friend and the school did nothing about it. A girl in my class killed herself because of all the teasing that went on. No one did a thing about it. Why I didn’t go bat-shit-crazy is still a wonder to me but I suppose that I have my friends to thank for that.

Now, this is years later, and I will not lie I still have nightmares about that day. My mother thinks I should let it go but it’s just something I can’t forget. It’s not fair, and no one else should have to deal with what I had to deal with. The school hasn’t gotten any better, either, if what I hear from the kids currently going there is even remotely true. What’s the point of this post? I’m not sure, it’s something that I just can’t let go of, the teachers were for the most part horrible except for a select few that went above and beyond I guess it just makes me sad/angry that this is still going on. I keep trying to think of ways to help.

In other news, a lot of things are starting to come to my attention, things that just make me amazed at the human race. For starters, how about that fucking earthquake on Easter, huh? I’ve lived in the San Diego my whole life (minus a year) and I’ve never experienced a quake that made me run for cover. I was in Ralphs (again, Kroger for all you out-of-towners) taking my cart down the wine and spirits section and at first I thought that I was going over bumpy linoleum. Until a ripple went up the glass bottles and they all started vibrating. I left my cart and ran, literally bottles crashing at my feet until I got to the end of the isle to the milk and eggs laughing my fat ass off. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed the lights in a super market, but you do when they start swinging back and forth. All I kept thinking was “THEY RAN LIKE GOATS ON FIRE!!” and laughing cause people were freaking out.

Now, was it scary? Sure as fuck was, but I didn’t think it was the end of the world. I didn’t worry about a tsunami, and I didn’t worry too much about aftershocks (though even a week later we’re still feeling some) but people went bat-shit. I have never seen so much mass panic even days later when there really isn’t a cause for panic. At all.

Skip ahead, skip ahead…so people are fucking crazy. I’m sure each of you has something to contribute to that statement, but like it or not the people of this planet are insane. I shall backup my statement with facts.

Fact #1: A Tennessee woman pinned a note to her 7-year-old adopted son back to his home country of Russia alone on a 16 hour flight. BY HIMSELF PEOPLE. Her excuse was that the adoption agency didn’t tell her about his “behavioral problems” and she was misled and didn’t want him any more. Ok…lady…here’s the facts. The kid is 7-years-old, an orphan, comes from another country and more than likely English is not his first language. OF COURSE IT’S GOING TO BE HARD THE FIRST YEAR!! The kid doesn’t understand what’s going on! Not only that but the officials in Russia said that when they would mention the name of the woman the kid would start crying saying she would pull his hair and shit. I’m sorry, that is just straight up, fucked up, people. You don’t want the kid? Fine, there are LEGAL ways to get rid of him. Inform the agency that he isn’t right and arrange for either then to pick him up, or adopt him to another family in the states close-by. You do not, EVER send a child alone on a plane for 16 hours.

Fact #2: Some 14-year-old kid in Russia killed his father by giving him a sledgehammer to the head not once, but twice while his father was sleeping. Why did he do it? Cause his parents had taken away his video games as a punishment. Now the entire world is going to start up on “SEE! VIDEO GAMES MAKE KIDS VIOLENT!!” No, fucktard. They don’t. That kid? He’s just fucked up, plain and simple fucked in the head. I’ve yelled at my parents for taking things away from me, thrown tantrums etc. I have never, will never, and couldn’t ever think of killing them for doing this. I have been playing video games since I was 3-years-old and I do not wish to kill my father with a sledgehammer while he’s sleeping. I know others that are the same way. So why this kid? Cause he’s fucked in the head. You want to know what’s really fucked up? After he killed his father the mom, who was scared out of her head, gave him back his keyboard. The kid played games for several hours before the police came to arrest him.

So what does this all mean? Fuck if I know but the world is starting to be just as fucking crazy as Florida and that is fucking crazy…..



et cetera