living everyday.

so it goes

2007-08-22T21:48:07Z

I move to New York City tomorrow. Surprised? You're not the only one. I've been preparing for this for six months, and I still can't fucking believe it's happening.

thewrongsongs @ 2007-07-07T15:44:00

2007-07-07T22:48:20Z

The new Against Me! album has exactly ONE good song on it. Live Free or Die Hard is the feel good family film of the year.

I'm in Newport right now, updating this thing for the first time in three months because I'm suffering under a grip of Spanish homework. If I finish this in time, I may go see Stza Crack play an acoustic set in Costa Mesa, but my motivation is waning. My summer school class (needed for my language requirement at NYU) ends on Thursday, and I quit my job at Upper Crust tomorrow night (thank fucking christ). I'm going to Portland for a week on the 16th, and I'll be around in Santa Cruz from the 22nd to the 1st. Then, it's back to Newport, then Vegas with my dad for a few days, then Newport until August 24th, whereupon I move to New York City and start classes on the 4th.

I miss Moury.

This is pretty much the extent of my life right now.

thewrongsongs @ 2007-03-10T10:28:00

2007-03-10T18:42:27Z

The past month or so of checking the mail has been a slow stabbing with a knife kind of torture- every day, I run out to the mailbox and anxiously flip through the envelopes to see whether or not I had one of the coveted big envelopes (acceptance) or the dreaded small envelopes (rejection) with my name on it. After getting a small envelope back from Boston College, I had figured, "Well, NYU and the New School have got to be more selective than BC, so screw it." I originally applied to BC, BU, Northeastern, the University of Oregon, Humboldt State, San Francisco State, New School University and NYU, and with that in mind, I came to the conclusion that I'd get rejections from everywhere but U of O and SFSU.

The rules of the game changed a bit when I got a package from SFSU telling me that I'd qualified for financial aid with them. "Cool," I thought. "At least it looks like I got in somewhere." I checked U of O's application database, and found out that their poli sci department had recommended that I be admitted, and that my application was pending approval by the main graduate school. I was really stoked on that, so I gave my family a ring to let them know.

Later that day, I went and got the mail. I flipped through the various pieces of junk mail and such and found a big envelope from NYU's graduate admissions department. "No bigs," I think. "Probably another 'Come to an open house!' cold mailing." I tear it open, and my heart fucking stopped. NYU's offering me admission to their Political Science Master's program, with emphasis in Comparative Politics.

This pretty much changes fucking everything. Prior to Thursday, my top choices were the New School, U of O, and SFSU. I figured I'd be at least competitive for U of O and New School, and my "reach" schools were NYU, BC and BU. NYU was pretty much a gigantic reach- I have to admit that I wasn't even prepared to get admitted to their program. Especially since my application was nearly two weeks late because of a snafu with my letters of recommendation.

I've only heard back from two schools officially: BC and NYU. However, given that I just got accepted into one of the top programs in the country, I'd say it bodes pretty well for my other applications. I don't know if I'm going to accept the admission into NYU immediately- only because I'm waiting to see if the other universities will offer me funding or a TA position. To think that I was preparing for rejections from everyone- I was starting to look at paramedic/ff and teaching credential programs in preparation for that. Now, instead of being faced with too few options, I'm going to be looking at too many. It's a nice place to be in.

Moury's already made the decision for me that I have to go.

thewrongsongs @ 2007-01-10T20:55:00

2007-01-11T05:41:57Z

This post is my "favorite pictures ever taken" post. Warning, image heavy.

Woods in Santa Cruz, May 2004.

Panther Beach, March 2005.

Great White Shark, Monterey Bay Aquarium, January 2007.

Jellies, Monterey Bay Aquarium, January 2007.

Between Santa Cruz and Davenport, August 2006.

Mitchell's Cove, September 2006.

Base of UCSC, October 2006.

Sunset over Newport Beach, December 2006.

Little Corona, December 2006.

Cave Gulch Falls, May 2004.

Steamer Lane, January 2007.

New York, August 2006.

Empire State Building, August 2006.

Stonehenge, July 2004.

Normandy, July 2004.

Paris Catacombs, July 2004.

thewrongsongs @ 2005-09-02T14:47:00

2005-09-02T21:47:54Z

It's not every day that you come back from vacation and find a major US city in ruins. I started watching CNN last night in a bar on a cruise ship, and I've spent all day reading up on the reports coming out of New Orleans, and I have to say, I'm utterly fucking horrified and pissed off about both the governmental response and what the media's been reporting. So far, the most apt description of how I feel has come from, ironically enough, Something Awful. Who would have thought that the most cogent and articulate response came from a website that is famous for bringing Goatse and FiestaCat to the eyes of the internet.

The guy running the show in New Orleans, the director of FEMA, got shit-canned from his last job running a goddamned HORSE BREEDING organization because of his ineptitude. And he's been entrusted with saving New Orleans.

The federal government is more concerned with the sanctity of private and corporate property than with the lives of the citzenry, ordering the National Guard in to get looters off the streets by whatever means neccesary, yet not allowing any volunteer rescue workers in.

The media is just absolutely fucking abombinable in their coverage. Paula Zahn's making bullshit remarks about "doing the Lord's work" and CNN had an exclusive on what Katrina would do to gas prices. What the fuck? Thousands of people are dead or dying, and Joe Six-Pack's worried about his SUV.

These were taken from Free Republic, the conservative's home on the internet:

http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-bloggers/1475783/posts

http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/1475861/posts

http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/1475829/posts

And people wonder why this country is hated so fucking much.

I leave you with a quote from our fearless leader, President George W. Bush. This came from his press conference earlier in the day:

""We've got a lot of rebuilding to do. First, we're going to save lives and stabilize the situation. And then we're going to help these communities rebuild. The good news is -- and it's hard for some to see it now -- that out of this chaos is going to come a fantastic Gulf Coast, like it was before. Out of the rubbles of Trent Lott's house -- he's lost his entire house -- there's going to be a fantastic house. And I'm looking forward to sitting on the porch."

thewrongsongs @ 2005-08-08T17:42:00

2005-08-09T00:42:35Z

Well, Bacchus probably has cancer. He has a growth on his lip that has been bleeding at night, so I took him into the vet today. The super nice doctor was concerned, so she's doing a preliminary biopsy and bloodwork on him that should be done by the end of the week, but she said such dark colored growths are usually indicative of melanoma.

I'm waiting on a few things: to see what the pathology says, and to find out if it's spread to any bones or organs. If it hasn't, then it should be okay, because this kind of cancer apparently responds well to radiation therapy. If it has, then it'll take some real soul searching to figure out what comes next.

I really, really don't need this shit right now, even if it ends up being perfectly fine. If you've ever met my dog, please keep him in your thoughts and give another dog some love in solidarity.

thewrongsongs @ 2005-06-12T12:52:00

2005-06-12T19:52:13Z

The past few days have been interesting, to say the least.

Thursday: Heath, Bryant and myself put in a marathon day fixing up the Arroyo Seco house. The day's events are too numerous to effectively chronicle, but all told, it involves a piano, a sketchy u-haul, a harrowing journey uphill in the back of said u-haul, two undercover Sherrif's deputies, painting hats, and not getting done until 3 am.
Friday: Audra's super cool sister, Adrienne, and I hung out all day. TONS of pot got smoked, we went to the beach, watched Super Troopers, and drove around Santa Cruz. A really nice, stoned day. That night, after Adrienne had to go to dinner with her family, I went to the Palm house/downtown and did a lot of drinking with the usual crew. This put me into a completely disassociated state. I felt like I was wandering around the fog, I was fucking out of it. I ended up at Dakota with Jamie, Ginny and Matt, but a few things were slightly awkward: I don't dance, I'm not gay, and I was too haggard to realize what was going on. I left after like ten minutes, and decided to get a burrito. Ended up getting my ass grabbed by some dude on the way out. On my way past the Catalyst, two drunk guys got in a fight and suddenly, there were four cops beating them to the ground with batons. I walked right through the middle of it. Got my burrito, went back to Perg's and found out they all went to Saturn. Ended up there, practically fell asleep in french fries, and ended up asleep by 3:30.
Saturday: Woke up in the fog at 9:30 for the 10:00 graduations. Drove Nicole and Morgan to Porter, went home and grabbed my camera, and by the time I parked, it was 11 am. Ran to the quarry and saw Heath and Quinn graduate. Went to lunch with Heath's family- now I know where he gets it from. The middle of the day was marked with more smoking with Adrienne, a nap, then I bought tiki torches for the graduation party. True to form, no one showed up until 11, and I (and I think Audra as well) ended up getting kind of shitfaced off margaritas.

Today or tomorrow, I think I'm going to the river. Who's with me?

thewrongsongs @ 2005-04-19T20:02:00

2005-04-20T03:02:22Z

http://dmedia.ucsc.edu/~afrojas/TU/To%20Protect%20and%20Serve%20Broad.mp4

Your tuition dollars are paying for THIS.

Journey To The Center of My Kneecap

2005-04-07T01:03:05Z

Here is the story of my knee surgery yesterday. It's long, and has a lot of gross/awesome pictures.

Yesterday, I woke up at 7:30 am, showered, shaved, and put on some clean clothes. I got in my car, which I'd washed, vacuumed and waxed the day before in anticipation of its month and a half long hibernation, and drove with my dad out to the West Anaheim Medical Center. I parked, checked in, and got taken back to the Ambulatory Care Unit, where I was weighed and had my temperature and blood pressure taken. Then, I had to put on one of those oh-so-stylish medical gowns and laid down on a gurney.

Two nurses came in to start a sugar/saline IV. The first time they tried it hurt like a bitch. Generally, the procedure for starting an IV is running it into the vein, but not directly through it. So, a huge bump raised itself on my wrist as they pulled out the needle, and my blood did that cool spurting thing you see in movies. Then, they straightened out my left arm, and put the needle in there. There was some debate as to whether or not they had managed to hit the vein, but fortunately, they figured out that my veins are so big that it had gone in perfectly with a minimum of bleeding back into the IV.

Then began the waiting. There were three people ahead of me for surgery, and the guy in the room next to me had "a lot of variables" for his shoulder surgery. So, my dad came in and read with me while I watched TV. I've noticed that when it comes to daytime TV, whenever the producers run out of ideas for a particular show, they do the token "troubled kid who doesn't know it yet, but he's going to boot camp at the end of the show" episode. There was a hilarious high-speed chase that actually went right by the hospital (and later, my house) that involved some crazy guy dangling a purple bathrobe out of the window of his car as he drove at 100 mph down the 405. He ended up driving right to a donut shop, where he went inside and ended up getting pepper sprayed by the cops. I can appreciate the irony of 20 cop cars and a SWAT team taking a guy down at a donut shop.

After what should have been an hour wait (but was closer to three and a half), they wheeled me back to the pre-op center. I had to put on this goofy looking blue hat, slippers, and the anestheseologist came into talk to me. She told me they would administer the anesthetic through my IV, and that it tended to burn a little bit before it took effect. Also, they would be sticking a tube partially down my throat to breathe for me, and that before I woke up, they'd be giving me another shot of anesthetic to the groin. I wasn't too thrilled with the prospect of a large, sharp needle being stuck so close to a (ahem) vital organ, but I figured if they fucked up, there'd be at least a decent shot at a malpractice suit. Anyhow, I was wheeled into the operating room, and the anesthesiologist told me they were going to give me the anesthetic. Beneath my oxygen mask, I asked how long it would take before I would feel effects, then the anesthesiologist just said, "Yes, that's nice." She then stuck the shot directly into my IV, and I felt a strange, cold, burning sensation spread all over my body. My vision blurred, and my last thought before the lights went out was that I could actually feel my eyes rolling back in my head.

I woke up in the recovery room with two nurses hovering over me. I was shaking violently, and I heard one of them yell for blankets and Demerol. Another shot went in the IV bag, and I suddenly felt a whole lot warmer. They took my blood pressure again (for what seemed like the 10,000th time) and it turned out it was 194/78- which is really high. Later, I found out that it was my body reacting to trauma, and that my body was trying to tell my brain that I was fucked up and in a lot of pain. Fortunately, the drugs and the nerve block they installed in my leg did a good job of duping my brain into thinking that everything was cool, but my body still kept up with some slight shaking and elevated blood pressure. As a result, I had to stay in the recovery room for two hours. Thanks to the anesthesia, it was about an hour and a half before I thought to look down at my leg, and this is basically what I saw:

The clear sack with red liquid is exactly what you think it is. The tube runs into the cuts made from surgery, and drains the blood that continually leaks from them. It has to be emptied every few hours or so, just enough for it to fill up with a few ounces of blood.

That's the blood bag being emptied.

The blue tube running out of my leg is part of a portable cooling unit that is filled with ice every few hours. It pumps cool water all around my knee, and is helping to keep the swelling down. The clear cylinder is my pain pump- when I first got it, it was filled with Lidocaine (a local anesthetic), but now, it's quickly running low. Every few hours, the pump would press down a little bit more, injecting Lidocaine directly into my knee as so to numb it and keep the pain down. It's effective, especially when supplemented with Percocet. The brace itself is large, bulky, and is designed to immobilize my leg. I have to wear this thing for a month straight, save for when I'm doing physical therapy. Even when I'm asleep or showering.

Anyhow, after my blood pressure stabilized a bit, I was wheeled back to the Ambulatory Care Unit, where my dad was waiting. After not having anything to eat or drink for nearly 24 hours, I was absolutely famished, so they brought me a Pepsi and some graham crackers. I chowed down, ignoring the irritation in my throat from where they stuck the tube. In retrospect, I should have probably insisted on drinking water, because the sugary Pepsi just caused me to crash in about an hour. There were a few criteria for release- the nurses wanted to make sure my blood pressure was stable (still), I had to be able to piss (an indication that the anesthetic was wearing off) and I had to show them I could walk on crutches. The first and the last part was easy, but let's just say that trying to piss when you're coming down from anesthesia is like handing a midget a firehose and sending them to a five-alarm apartment fire- it's awkard and fucking tough. Anyhow, after I did those things , the IV was pulled from my arm and a bandage tied over the wound, and I was discharged. They wheeled me out to the parking lot, and my dad went to go get the car.

Things kind of went downhill as soon as I sat down. I was dehydrated, I started to shake again, and I felt like I was going to either pass out or throw up in the car.
I barely made it to the couch, but fortunately, my dad had a big glass of ice water ready for me. I had a few sips, and started to feel better again. Then, the anesthesia really wore off. I broke out in a sweat, I started to shake again, and I felt like I was going to throw up. I managed to get down a piece of bread and chased it with a Percocet, and after about an hour, the pain started to go away. I was able to settle down a bit more and eat some more bread, and I ended up watching the Lord of the Rings with my dad.

It wasn't until today that I found out exactly what the surgeon had done. I knew that my ACL needed replacement, but whether or not my meniscus was repairable was up for debate. The following pictures were taken with the arthoscopic scope camera they used to scope my knee.

In the first picture, the one on the right is my meniscus. As can be seen, the meniscus is fairly shredded. Rather than try to fix it, the surgeon simply cut it out. I am now missing part of the cartilage on my right knee.

This is my ACL. It's pretty screwed up as well, but fortunately, this graft should have taken care of it:

What you can see there is the patellar tendon that they sliced from my kneecap and grafted where my ACL used to be. If you look closely, you can see the tiny metal screws that are going to hold that new ACL to the bone for the rest of my life.

Sleeping was pretty easy. I took two more Percocet and just kind of floated away into some pleasant dreams- I dreamt I was snorkeling in a kelp forest with a bunch of brightly colored octopi. Anyhow, painkiller dreams aside, I managed to get seven solid hours of sleep, which is a really good sign for my recovery. The pain actually hasn't been that bad, it's been utterly manageable with the Percocet, and the occasional Relafen for swelling. I'm up crutching around the house, and I may go for a "walk" around the block later.

Earlier in the day, Home Health came by to remove my pain pump and the blood drain. The nurse, Marc, also changed my bandage. I'm warning you, the next few pictures are kind of gross, so don't look if you're offended.

This is what my leg looks like right now when you peel back the bandages. The big scar right on top of my kneecap is where the surgeon did a "ligament harvest" and removed part of my patellar tendon for the ACL graft. The two little ones are where they cut out my meniscus and grafted my ACL. In this particular shot, Marc is removing the drain that was removing the excess blood from my knee. The blood bag was empty before he started.

This is when Marc removed the Lidocaine pump from my knee.

So yeah, there you go. I get to take this brace off for good in a month. Think I'm counting down the days? Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I am.

thewrongsongs @ 2005-03-10T02:02:00

2005-03-10T10:02:38Z

friends only.