Lemon Water

Category Archive

The following is a list of all entries from the rant category.

Of Course I Kicked You

I mean, honestly, what other reaction did you think I would have?! (Nevermind that you don’t read this blog and I probably won’t link you to it.)

What am I talking about? Basicamente, a classmate of mine, P.M. so as to give him some sort of privacy, was being ridiculous. I was working on art during my Study Hall period, during which he has art… so we were in the same classroom. As I’m washing clean the pallete and brushes, he comes around and pulls slightly at my apron’s strings (I wanted to protect my clothes from the paint, duh), and he starts talking about how he liked pulling the bikini straps on girls, and how he had once pulled a 14-year old girl’s straps… and she wasn’t able to catch the top in time. Now, unfortunately, I was still grinning like an idiot because this dude is so ridiculous, I feel like laughing all the time.

But as he goes away, I step forwards and kick him, decently hard too (I hope I don’t leave a bruise…). And he’s all “You kicked me!” several times and by now I was REALLY honestly grinning happily. Well, no shit Sherlock. You just told me about how you apparently liked contributing in sexual harassment (why yes, exposing the breasts of bikini-wearing teenager girls against their will is sexual harassment!), and implied something when you pulled the back of my apron strings! Of course I hit you! You’ve probably seen me punch my friends (well… the guy friends) for saying something stupid, and that is soft!

I mean, geeze. At least it wasn’t like when my friend nicknamed me “Boobs”.

… I mean… seriously…

Ok, end rant.


Re: AtLA’s Friky Diky Cast; Oh McCartney, You Make It So Easy…

To laugh at you… He had a phone interview, which I just found out about via the amazing glockgal. It just… wow, gives you so many opportunities to laugh. Seriously.

I’ll talk about some specific parts, then give you the full transcript (Found on glockgal’s post) : D

(Click for more)

Re: ATLA’s Friky Diky Cast; Rathbone Doesn’t Get It

Which honestly, doesn’t surprise me.

I leave the internet for about 18 days and miss out on the lovely (dripping sarcasm PLEASE be noted here, I don’t ever want to be quoted on saying this guy is lovely) Jackson Rathbone’s comment regarding the whole casting fracas which involves him. Is it too much to hope that one of the actors are genuinely concerned, although obviously conflicted because they really want the part too and get paid? Maybe that would be better?

Due in theaters in summer 2010, “Airbender” has already begun to face a bit of controversy over the casting of white actors like Rathbone, Ringer and McCartney to play Asian characters — a concern the actor was quick to dismiss. “I think it’s one of those things where I pull my hair up, shave the sides, and I definitely need a tan,” he said of the transformation he’ll go through to look more like Sokka. “It’s one of those things where, hopefully, the audience will suspend disbelief a little bit.”

No. Rathbone, it is NOT the same if you are acting in it and make yourself look darker and change your hairstyle. See, the thing is, ALL the actors are WHITE. The WHOLE Avatar Universe is ASIAN, INUIT, or MESOAMERICAN (Check: the Sun Warriors! Predominantly Asian, though). This is happening in concordance with a pattern in movies, where CULTURAL APPROPIATION is pretty much the default. It is a disgusting continuation of viewing the default heroes as white, up to the point that the heroes in a fictional universe where NO ONE IS WHITE are going to be recast as white.

Do you know what the fans want? They want Avatar Universe faithfully followed. Do you know why this show is so big? Great storytelling, plots, characters, development, among some things. But ALSO, for providing a hero that isn’t white. No wait, for providing many heroes that aren’t white. It is an issue, when in this world, in the media, there are very few roles for those who aren’t white, for PoCs to identify. I mean… just… look, this says it better than I can:

During our early Christmas dinner this weekend, the oldest of the nephews, who is 13, brought up the subject of the incredibly white child actors that had been picked for the film version. The three of them were confused and disappointed but unable to articulate exactly why. Then the youngest, all of 7 years old, asked me whether this meant that he couldn’t be Aang when he played Avatar with his friends from now on.

Tell me, Rathbone, if you read that? How do you feel? Are you happy you are participating in the exclusion of many kids, who actually had a hero like them, somebody not the fucking white default? In making them feel that somehow, that they aren’t good enough?

Rathbone, do yourself a favour, and actually read what is going on. Actually read the worries, the dissapointments, the dreams, the problems, of the fans who had something amazing… taken away from them.

You’ve pretty damn already lost me and a lot of us. I highly doubt you will get anybody back. I have already made note of avoiding movies with somebody as insensitive and as clueless as you. Before I heard your opinion, I was pretty happy to avoid making any comments directly about you (except where related to Twilight, because admittedly, I find Twilight ridiculous) and concentrate on those who had chosen you to replace a uniquely diverse world and peoples with the white hero. It is not the same. But since you have on this comment… well… you’re taking part in the systematic exclusion of anybody different.

The positive side, is that he was asked the question. And it appeared on MTV. And that MTV noted that the cast was chosen to play “Asian characters”.

So people, keep making your voices heard! I’ll go back to keeping the roundup updated on what you guys say!

Ok, Now That’s Just Being Cruel

I mean seriously.

Sunday, I was looking at my scar from the operation, when I noticed this black dot from what two weeks ago I had thought was a blood clot. Looking carefully, I scratched lightly with my finger. Somehow, the black thing elongated, or stretched. Worried, I got some pinzas, (tongs? pluckers?) [Edit: tweezers], and pulled at it.

I pulled a freaking string from my flesh.

Well, not really pulled out. Part of it was stuck in, and it hurt, so I didn’t dare pull it more. Instead, I went to my parents, who then took me to a window full of light, and proceeded to try and yank out the string.

It only hurt. They didn’t get it out. So we got a doctor’s appointment for today, and as soon as I got home today after staying after school, my dad took me there. The doctor who operated me wasn’t even there, he was at Miami for a conference. So a different doctor saw me, lay me down, cleaned my foot, and then… yanked the string out.


Now I am not allowed to do any exercise that will harm my foot, and this involves swimming or running of any type, until the weekend. This means more catch up work in PE. This means I won’t swim tomorrow to continue catching up on what I lost thanks to the operation because I was too sick to catch up earlier. This… this…

This is just cruel.


I forgot to mention what the string was!

Basically, I had two sets of stitches after my operation: internal and outer ones. The internal ones disintegrate and are absorbed harmlessly into the body after a few months, while the external ones must be cut and pulled out. Now, this string was one of these inner stitches, and my body began to reject it, to try and to push it outside. This is why the string got near the surface of my foot and I managed to see and pull at it.

No more strings should appear, but I’ll keep a close watch over my foot.

[Edit 2]

Behold, the archives of the terrible Glass Shard Incident!

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Pre Op Jitters

I’m feeling distinctly worried and tense over my operation. Not so much the actual operation, though I am quite nervous about it, but partly because of the stress my parents and I have been going through with the freakin exams and the feeling that they are charging us more. Oh, and the fact that the secretary hasn’t given us the cost of the surgery which she should have given us three days ago. I see no reason- nor do my parents -to have a cardiograph taken for an ambulatory operation, though we would understand if it is a standard procedure (albeit a procedure that seems to be set in place to get more money). The problem is that they keep stringing us along and telling me to get more exams and to go see this doctor for the “riesgo qirurgico” and telling us “oh no, I’m sorry I don’t know how much it costs” and you know, not being exactly professional. This is something they should have told us the day it was decided I needed an operation- the cardiograph, the x-ray. Yes, she mentioned tests, but never gave the lists, or pre-operation instructions. They didn’t even tell my mom that apparently I shouldn’t eat for eight hours before the operation because the anaestesia could give me nausea and that’s problematic in an operation. Thank (Something) that my mom knew this already and checked, but I can’t help but keep worrying and worrying even as my parents talk and bicker in the car about being pulled along like idiots around the hospital, which I’ve been stuck in for three days now. And it doesn´t help that it was this clinic, albeit in a different location (the Molina branch), that failed to check my wound properly and left me with four glass shards in my foot.

Aggravating my nerves even more is that in between listening very very quietly and tensely to my parents discuss this in the car on the way back, my dad gets pissed at the drivers, as Limean driving is quite frankly horrible, aggressive, discourteous, and just creates far more problems and traffic, not to mention accidents. However, this time, instead of just ranting, one particular van that nearly crashes us by shoving itself in front of us, prompts my dad to hit the accelerator into a burst of speed, maneuvers us around said van, and then brakes furiously before it, as my mom said “AY FIYE!” and I just moaned “No no no” and tried not to think “if he makes a mistake we crash, if we make a mistake we crash.” As it is, we badly scared the driver, but I wish my dad wouldn’t do that. He doesn’t do this usually, or at least not anymore, but the possibility remains due to his short temper. And it’s just not going to help anybody.

To add to more tension, after school, when I got dropped of by the taxi near my mom’s office, I walked two blocks to it because the road is in construction, unfortunately in my school skirt. In the space of two blocks, I got harrassed by three guys muttering lowly at me as I tried to stride past stony faced, even as they muttered “estas rica, chiquita” or “hola niñita” and all I could think was that I wanted to scream at them to shut the fuck up, and feeling very very tense because I was carrying a heavy backpack and couldn’t run very quickly away should they want to do something. Worse, you’d think a cop would help you should you want protection, right? One of the men that started talking to me like that, you freaking lewd man, was being helped by a cop to freaking push a motorcycle at the sidewalk. My instinct was to turn around and flick him off, bare my teeth and then scream, but I didn’t. Joy. Was I asking for it for wearing a skirt? Fuck no. I wear the skirt to school right now because the pants I have right now are fucking useless, and I need to buy a new one.
I feel really bad for all the trouble my parents are going through for my operation, and I am mostly pissed at the clinic. It’s supposed to be one of the best. Meh, I apparently have to wear a long skirt or something tommorow to the clinic, because pants would rub against the bandage and might loosen it.

Oh yeah, they also moved the operation from 5 pm to 2 pm, and only because my mom checked we found out. So I’ll go to school until around 12, and then go to the clinic, perhaps change before I leave.

Fucking hell, look at what a piece of broken glass in a party did to me.

Haircut, Book Fair, Dad, And A Glass Shard,

Ho hum, I feel mean. I haven’t posted in a long time. I’ve been neglecting my blog, and now I have a pile of things to report…

Soo… Saturday, my mom forces me up early, (at freaking 8 am!! I’ve been sleeping till 11, and she wakes me at 8!!!), and takes me to the Lima Book Fair in Jockey, which I greatly enjoyed. I first helped my mom find the organization she was working with to deliver some dvds that her NGO had sent, which took us half an hour, because they were underneath a different name than the one given to us. In the end, she told me to look out for a particular big Atlas that her NGO had published, and I found the place. Whew! After that, we spent some time wandering around and looking for particular books. We stumbled on a guy dressed as Captain Underpants, this character from a half storybook, half comic for kids that my brother used to read (and me, because if I get my hands on a book, I read it) when he was little. We rushed to the store representative stand there, and saw the collection of Captain Underpants books. My mom and I laughed so much- it used to be the only thing my brother would read. We ended up buying a book for him out of pure nostalgia. My brother actually liked it!

I saw a book with photos from Tambopata, and because I loved my jungle trip so much, I asked mom to buy it. She did. (Oops, I haven’t made a Tambopata post…) After that, I saw this stand for the Centro de Flora Tristan, which is for women’s issues, so I bought a book about the history of feminism in Latin America. I have yet to read it. ^^;

After that and lunch, (and a delicious icecream from the store Lartiza’s, I highly recommend the chocolate de trufa flavour,) we went to my mom’s hairdresser, where we both got a haircut. So now my hair is pretty short again, but the styling was really good, I like my hair even when I don’t do anything to it as it dries. Since dying hair is such a hassle, I decided not to get the red tips (well, more of my mom made it clear she was very reluctant and I agreed that it would be hassle and would damage my hair), I’ll probably make myself some hair wraps tomorrow. Jajaja, that will be funny, walk into school with hair wraps.

That night, dad arrived from his long trip to Boston, on crutches like he left. He was very tired so we all fussed around like usual. Bonuses: he brought me a good hairbrush. The old one was dying and didn’t work very well. Also, my dad bought Super Smash Bros Brawl. Omigash. I love that game so much. And playing as Pit is so much fun! (However, why the hell did they call him Pit? Seriously!) Hmm, the nice thing was that he wasn’t grumpy from the trip back, and the family is pretty relaxed (with some thorns on my brother’s side, he’s too much the typical boy teen -_-), and happy. So that just makes me happier.

I had been getting obsessed with WoW, so I quit it for a week and let my brother have free reign. He really likes the game. He is also at a higher level then me. Meh, I’ll stay with my Draenei Shaman, even if she is a level 23. If I have fun while playing, I don’t care about leveling. Though I want to go to the Battlegrounds. However, I’m back to it. I must say, murlocs are frustrating. I got mobbed by about 7 of them, and they were only a level 19- and I died. That was embarassing.

I also made a headway in my homework. 6 out of 14. Now, tomorrow, I need to do at least 6 more during the day. Actually, after I finish this post, I’ll go back to work and then go to sleep. Plus, I’m kind of hungry. My mom made a delicious nut sauce pasta, and I’m going to learn the recipe. That way, when I’m in college, I can impress people with my l337 cooking skills. Jaja, I can dream. But I seriously need to get around to learning how to cook. Why, this Friday… I become a Senior. Aaaaaaah! I can’t believe it. I’m too young to die an IB Senior death! *hides*

Ah… now my last issue. Now, I know I mentioned that lately, my foot has been bothering me and I can’t walk normally. So today I had a doctor’s appointment, which, unfortunately, included a 1 hour 40 minutes wait for the freaking doctor. When we finally got to him and told him my sad tale of woe, he prodded my foot (and discovered the spot that bothered me), and told me to get an xray and an ecography. Now, we go to the Department of Images, only to be told that they aren’t taking Ecographies for today (not surprising considering that my appointment had been at 6pm, and it was now 8pm), and that they couldn’t schedule an ecography because, well, the ecography people had already left. However, I managed to get the xray after a 30 minute wait, and after the images had been formed, as they were being delivered to the doctor, the technician told me and my dad that indeed, I have a glass shard in my foot. I still have to get the ecography tommorow, and see the doctor again after that. Uh huh. But anyways…

I have a freaking glass shard in my foot. A glass shard that has apparently been cutting the inside of my foot, and that explains the pain. My parents are relieved that that it apparently hasn’t cut a nerve or something. But right now I’m kind of pissed, (Ok, read “majorly” here,) that the doctor I went to after my cut (two days after…) didn’t apparently clean my wound well enough, even if it hurt, and that now my parents are having a guilt trip over not having taken better care of me. You see, I’m pissed at that doctor because…


And to get it out, the doctor is probably going to have to cut a small slit, take it out, sew it up, and let it heal as I wobble around in school in crutches again.





Behold, the archives of the terrible Glass Shard Incident!

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

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I am much too angry to stop thinking about this. Or to even have the sense to take away that title and modify it to something more tolerable.

Patriarchy. Sexism.



I do not know how to express the burning fury I have. Perhaps because at some level I am still naive, for all that I know and heard about sexual assault, and been at the ends of thankfully soft levels of harassment and discrimination.

But this, this, just breaks the limit. Reaches. The straw that broke. The Camels Back. Drop. Overflowing Glass.


She was defending herself. She was kicking ass, and hitting him with all the fucking right she had to. You think women should be weak, and even if rape is wrong, not fight back? But then, they are always carping that the answer is to have “self defense classes”. WHY THE HELL DO YOU INSIST ON US LEARNING TO FIGHT WHEN WE GET PUNISHED IF WE DO? YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, YOU PRICK, YOU.
So basically, the men are just surprised that a woman could defend herself, and begin attacking her? They’d just seen she had been sexually assaulted. If a man was assaulted, even for a mugging, and he acted exactly like she did, straddle and hit the assaulter, nobody is going to be angry at him. Except the assaulter and family, or perhaps the odd friend. But a man is allowed to be angry, to be strong, to fight.

She fights back, and what do they do?

One guy unclothes and fondles her, and then pushes her into a hell winding circle windmill of hell where they beat up the “bitch who dared fight back”.

Oh I am so sick of you.

I am 16. I am a teenager. A girl. I am a walking target, and every day I walk knowing this. This is why I don’t go on taxis on the street on my own. This is why I tense up if somebody, especially a gang of men, whistles at me. This is why I try to look threatening. This is why I really hate walking on my own, and always bother my friends to help me get home or just walk me back to school, or something, and if I say “I am a girl, I am a target,” they just think I’m paranoid. But hey, look at that article. Look at it. This happened in the USA, a developed country, a safe country, a modern, safer, more feminist country. Now look at where I live- developing, third world machist society with poverty.

Don’t tell me I’m fucking paranoid. Go live in my shoes. They aren’t even very bad. But I am still. Fucking. Afraid.

And Fucking Angry.

I just fully understood what Willow means by the good girl/whore/bitch definition men have of all women. If you are a Good Girl, you are a virgin, always do what told, meek, submissive, pure, will do as told, even lose that virginity, which confuses the definition. The Whore, is the same as sexy, means a lot of sex. And the bitch? The bitch is anything that goes against them.



Let’s breathe for a second…She got beat up for defending herself. Come on. Read that passage.

“A small crowd had gathered, mostly men. Now they seemed shocked. I was supposed to have been a victim, and I was breaking out of the mold. I hit him in the stomach, while clenching my legs around him to prevent another man from pushing me off. In all, it took three men to pull me off my assailant.

He got up and ran off, yelling at me, as if I were the would-be rapist.

“You just assaulted me,” I yelled in my own defense – first to him and then, to anyone who would listen, “He just assaulted me.”

Since the police were shutting down the parties at Celeron, there were thousands of people on the path.

Another man, around 6’1″, approached me and said, “You think that was assault?” and he pulled down my tube top, and grabbed my breasts. More men started to cheer. It didn’t matter to the drunken mob that my breasts were being shown or fondled against my will. They were happy to see a topless girl all the same. I punched him in the face, and someone shoved me into a throng of others. I was surrounded, but I kept swinging and hitting until I was able to break free of the circle they had formed.”

Oh fuck you. Fuck you.

It scares me.

I’m the type of girl who fights back. I have no problem hitting people now, if they hurt me or the people I care about. I’ve gotten past some of my personal barriers.

What if something like this happens to me?

Fuck you machistas de mierda. What if one of my friends is hurt? No, what if any girl of my school is hurt? Lima? All of Peru? It happens. It happens to much. I’m still angry for the girls that are hurt. Afraid for them and me and my friends.

No girl should live up in fear.

Fuck you.


My friend Patrick pointed something out to me that has merit.

We don’t know if the group gang assaulted her because she fought back. It could have been a group of abusive guys who wanted to cop a feel because, well, they were only listening to that “OMG BOOBIES!” instinct that is so apparently cultivated and encouraged. -_-

I’m keeping the original entry, because I value my reaction. I still would get intensively angry at what happened to her, and I know that a lot of women are punished for fighting back.

But I do not really know in this case.

See yous.

PS: I would also like to note that I rarely swear this much. In fact, this is probably the most I have sworn, both in written, thought, or oral form. My friends know how little I swear XD up to the point that sometimes they do hear me swear and they go “I didn’t know you swore!” though they have known me for a year or so. To quote my friend Pat on reading this post: “Wow, that second line [in the Capital Swear Paragraph of Doom in this post] is totally unlike you.” Paraphrasing from what he said. Of course.

Oh My Work Tools, Where Art Thou?


I’ve lost not only my pencil case this weekend, but also my calculator. That expensive scientific calculator that is used in University.

In my own home.

This weekend, Saturday in fact, I decided to sunbathe. Yes, it’s unusual for me, but I felt like it, dammit, and I worked on some math exercises.

Now, I didn’t use my calculator yesterday, and didn’t have my pencil case yesterday either, so thy are presumably still in the house.

Grrrrrrr… where are you, you damned, stress inducing, rampage provoking, rant starting thrice times thrice times thrice damned things?!?!?!

Dammit. I’m off to do math with my brother’s calculator.


I’m talking to my friend Ana on msn.

We haven’t talked in FOREVER OMIGODS! ITS WEIRD!

We were supposed to meet when I went with SCAC to her school, but you know how that worked out. (Stupid glass…) and now we are talking!

I so forgot to send with my team her drawing!!! WAAAAAAH!

Im gonna work on a new extra special one then! YES.