Four Letter Word

Home... a simple four letter word. Ah.. but, it says so much that it takes words upon words to describe. "I wanna go home." I say it all the time when I want to leave work. "I wanna go home." I think it when I'm feeling alone at a "foreign" place. "I wanna go home." I feel it when I feel unwanted in the presence of others. "Home." A place where I feel wanted, loved, safe, warm, and... happy. Home. Where is my home? I just bought a studio "home". Would that make me feel more at home?

Home. I can't think of words to describe "my home". I only have a slide show of images from my past of what makes up "my home". A warm body next to me each night... a dinner for two... a warm "welcome home" smile... a welcome hug... a kiss... a warm hand on my back... a "good night"... words of assurance... words of hope... a joint prayer... silence. A silence full of love, full of understanding, full of thought, a togetherness, the knowledge of belonging in joint space... a home.... my home.

The song below is what inspired this short blog.

"Home" - Michael Buble

Another summer day
Has come and gone away
In Paris and Rome
But I wanna go home
Mmmmmmmm

Maybe surrounded by
A million people I
Still feel alone
I just wanna go home
Oh I miss you, you know

And I’ve been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you
Each one a line or two
“I’m fine baby, how are you?”
Well I would send them but I know that it’s just not enough
My words were cold and flat
And you deserve more than that

Another aeroplane
Another sunny place
I’m lucky I know
But I wanna go home
Mmmm, I’ve got to go home

Let me go home
I’m just too far from where you are
I wanna come home

And I feel just like I’m living someone else’s life
It’s like I just stepped outside
When everything was going right
And I know just why you could not
Come along with me
That this is not your dream
But you always believed in me

Another winter day has come
And gone away
In even Paris and Rome
And I wanna go home
Let me go home

And I’m surrounded by
A million people I
Still feel alone
Oh, let me go home
Oh, I miss you, you know

Let me go home
I’ve had my run
Baby, I’m done
I gotta go home
Let me go home
It will all be all right
I’ll be home tonight
I’m coming back home

Charity

An hour ago, I was making my usual round to the cafeteria in the basement to get a “light lunch” (I’m trying to lose a little weight… so far, so good… no complaints!), when a sad thought bestowed on me. Looking down at my little plastic box of food from the salad bar and the piece of bread on the side, I felt rich. Not rich from eating small lunches or rich from hitting the lottery jackpot (that reminds me, I need to check my ticket), but rich simply because I had food.

Standing in the elevator waiting for my floor, I felt a small pebble in my heart drop into the pond of emotions. The ripples coursed through my body and ended with a thug. My heart sank into a state of guilt. I felt guilty because I haven’t contributed to a charity helping children around the world in the recent months due to personal financial entanglements.

Seeing all those little faces of children, hungry due to famine, drought, poverty, and acts of war, my eyes wanted to tear. I felt weak in my limbs. I took a deep breath and exited the elevator walking down the long corridor with my head down. “Why must one go hungry? We have more than enough to share. Why must we fight? Why must one use religion as a bases of war?” If anything, all religions teach us to love.

I suppose one can ask as many questions as one can possibly think of as to why the way things are in our society. I’m sure these questions will go unanswered for many more centuries. My conclusion is to act upon what I can. I believe charity is a step in the right direction.

Preparing For Death

How does one prepare for death? I don't think one can really "prepare" for death. Yes, a living-will helps and giving family members the right to help you make medical decisions when you can't is great, but what if the dying patient can't speak or write his wishes? Poor Sylvester... he's going to be 15 years old in cat years, which is the equivalent of about 80 plus years old in human years. He's definitely used up a life or two over the past few years as well. The silly cat probably doesn't even know that he is on his way out. Although he is slow moving and probably have weak eye-sight and hearing, he still manages to greet me at the door when I come home from work or when I wake up in the morning. He still has those BIG round puppy eyes (weird, uh?) that just tugs at my heart. Everything about him shouts, "I wanna live!" But, how do you tell a sick cat that he is probably dying of cancer? Even if I tried, he wouldn't be able to understand. Some tell me to put him to sleep "for his own good", while others tell me to "give him up to an animal shelter and never think about it ever again". Can a parent make either of the two decisions? I can't.

Sylvester's been in my life for the past 15 years, since my junior year in high school. I still remember how he chewed thru three pages of my advanced physics review book. Didn't I say he is like a little puppy? :) Sly is weird, he likes to sniff sneakers, rub against them, and even sleep on top of them. He also enjoys following people around the house like a dog. Not to mention sleeping outside of our bedroom doors and occasionally pushing at the door to get in. When he is moody or is upset, he makes it well known too. He would turn his head the *other* direction when you call his name or try to get his attention. He would even walk away from you and ignore everything else you do until you give him a nice rub down on his head, chin, and chest... just like a dog... And when he is *really* moody, he'll have no qualms clawing at you.

Sigh... Sly's got a lump on his right side under his fore leg. It's been two weeks now and he just finished off his daily twice-a-day antibiotics. After the lab results came back, the vet said that Sly has "dying tissue" in the lump, that can be caused by a "foreign object", "a lesion", or due to "cancer". He further advises to operate and remove the lump and to run more tests. After two weeks of antibiotics, the lump seemingly reduced in size by almost half. This is definitely a promising result, but he still needs further treatment and medical attention. Right now, he is so afraid of me when he sees me coming towards him with an eyedropper filled with 1 ml of antibiotics; he starts running up the stairs. He even slipped and fell the first few times he darted away. He consistently fights against me when I try to pry open his mouth to feed him his meds. He's a bit annoyed at me. I know it. Who wouldn't be when you are forced to open up and swallow God knows what? I've been preparing myself for that day when it is time for Sylvester to leave. I've decided to cremate him and keep his ashes in a pet urn at home. This way, he would be close to me even when he's gone. I still have to look more into this, but, it's kinda heavy to do all this alone. I haven't told my family yet about Sylvester's condition and I don't really plan to, until it's time. What I'm afraid most, is having to decide whether to euthanize him or not.

His body language says "I wanna live", but his body says, "I'm tired and sick". My mind says, "Live as long as you want and go peacefully when you are ready. You will never be far."

Revelation - "You can't be a single father..."

Another boring day at the office... boring, but plenty to do as usual. I'm still feeling tired and sleepy. Well, I kinda felt happy this morning that someone actually left me a comment to my "devirginizing blog". I don't know who "JM" is, but thank you for the little "lift" this morning. A lot has been on my mind lately and I really needed some "human contact", even from a stranger. I've been going through a lot of ups and downs and it just feels like I'm on this endless rollercoaster ride where everybody is screaming, but no body hears the person next to him.

I'm starting to regain the full use of my right index finger after over a month and a half. It all happend on Monday night of the past Memorial Day weekend. Sylvester, my diabetic cat, was having spasms from an insulin overdose. He was low on sugar due to lack of eating and an increased insulin intake on the same day. That poor cat... he was literally bouncing off the wall, throwing himself against the stairs and slamming himself against a kitchen corner next to the fridge.

When I saw what was happening, I ran into the kitchen and threw opened my kitchen cabinets frantically looking for that elusive bottle of honey while I was screaming "Sylvester! Sylvester! Meow-Meow!! (his Chinese name)"... I was praying so hard as I pushed aside the millions of bottles of spices I had. I then remembered that I just had a BBQ and probably used up all the honey for basting the food... "God, please let me find at least a tablespoon of honey left..." I found an old bottle of honey... "Phew..!" I quickly grabbed the bottle in my right hand and lunged forward to tackle Sylvester with my left. Before I knew it, the both of us were in the middle of the kitchen floor... I trying to twist the bottle lid open while holding Sylvester down whichever way I could, as Sylvester wigged from under me trying to scramble away as if I was going to eat him for dinner. For some reason I also had the broom under my arm... I probably grabbed it too as I was tackling Sly. I can't remember how it happend anymore. I quickly dug my right index finger into the honey and instead of applying some on his gums and nose as I normally do, I stuck my finger into his mouth and that's when it happend. Sly involuntarily clamped down on my finger and I started to bleed like an overflowing river. Blood was all over Sly's furry face, in the bottle of honey from repeated dipping, and all over the kitchen floor.

Holding Sly and the broom under my left arm and the bottle of honey in my left hand and my right hand dripping with honey mixed with blood, I started to cry as Sly started to calm down under my weight. I curled into a fetal position with Sly under me and began to shake. I wasn't crying from the pain or the fact that Sly was spasming with a look of fear in his dilated pupils. I was crying for myself. Myself only.

As I continued to bleed in the fetal postion, the thought, "You can't be a single father..." crossed my mind. This hurted me most. Just a week or so prior to this dramatic event, I was telling my ex, "I have a feeling that I am destined to be alone in life." He then asked me, "What about having kids, I thought you wanted kids."

"I do. I want kids. I've thought about it and I decided that if I'm not with somebody in the next few years, I'm going to adopt a kid anyway. I'll just be a single father. I think I can manage."

Leave it to old diabetic Sly to prove me wrong. "No. You can't be a single father. You are destined to be ALONE without kids."

"But... but... this can't be true!?" It's true. At this point, I think I may not be prepared enough to be a single father. I need a lot more in me to be able to overcome situations like this. Picturing Sylvester as my possible child, am I capable of taking care of him? Protecting him? Caring for him? Being his shelter from harm... giving him the love he needs to grow? Sigh... it's hard to say... I think I am capable of doing most of the above without any problems, but being a parent takes more than being able to love and care for the child. Being a parent means you also have to be mentally fit and emotional strong and ready to withstand the hardest blow. I am afraid. I am afraid that I may not be able to father a child alone. This saddens me.

As an attempt to prove myself wrong, I stopped crying. I wiped away my tears and started to administer the honey again. By now, Sly was looking lost and dazed and probably wondering what's with all the comotion and why is there a bunch of people staring at me? My friends were still around from playing a round of MJ and witnessed the whole event. The whole dramatic scene unfolded over less than five minutes.

I spent the next 15 minutes feeding Sylvester honey until he came out of his stunned look and started eating his dry food. Poor cat, he's got only a few teeth left... all of which rotted away from old age. It was now 11 something pm... all my friends suggested that I go to the ER for treatment. My finger was so swollen that I couldn't bend it at all.

Over the past few weeks, my finger has gotten better significantly, but that thought is still in me... "You can't be a single father..." This saddens me.

The de-virginizing post...

Finally! It took forever to pick a username and URL link for this blog... my blog... my very own blog... I've blogged before, but never at a blogger's site... The closest I've gotten was using Downelink's blogging feature... but, finally... I've created my blog at a more "official" blogger's web site... I guess somehow it signifies something more... perhaps, making my blogs more "official"??