My dog died.


People have different ways of expressing goodbyes. Me, I hate it, but like my good bye to Casimoro, I had to find him before I left.
I made sure I walked my coworker to the elevator on her last day.
I went in to the doctor's office when when we decided to put one of my dogs to sleep and watched the doctor jabbed the needle to his heart.
I cried while holding my nephews and brother before going back here.
They were all painful, well, maybe accept the goodbye to Casimoro, although it was still sad.

This dog of mine is ugly, black, short fur, with long and awkward looking legs. He actually looked like a horse instead of a dog. Really really unattractive.
But like all moms, they always love their children and subjectively think that their kids are the best, the cutest, the prettiest. I do too.

But there was no closure between us. I want to be there when he exhaled his last breath. I bet I would've been crying, wailing, shaking, heartbroken, mourning, hyperventilating while holding his paws... If I hadn't passed out. But I'm big at that. That's how I deal.

And now my dog died.
He'll be cremated then my mom will pick up his ashes and they'll go to the sea and spread his ashes away.
And I'm right here, inside my la la land, untouched, in a sterile, perfect, Brady Bunch environment.
And I've been wanting to cry, to wail, to sob but I can't and I don't know why.
I feel this grieve inside my chest.
My head is pounding.
My throat is choked.
I can't breathe.
My heart is almost physically in pain.
And inside my head, there is this unstoppable movie clips of my dog. playing over and over and over and over and over and over again.
When he was born, and how I thought, man, this one is ugly.
When he did his daily barking to the postman.
The close ups of his horsey face and horsey legs.

And I can't freaking cry even though I feel empty.
And dark.
And in pain.


Listening to: The drugs Don't Work - The Verve
The drugs didn't work anymore, it just made him worse.

How much crap is too much crap?
How much manner is too polite?
What is politically correct anyway?
Don't you love it if you can just blurted out anything you really want to say?
No need to considerate other people's feeling, or the office policy, or if people would question whether your parents taught you well.
Like when a white guy once yelled at me from his car "Go back to Asia." I wished I was fast enough to yell something back like "No, you go back to Europe!"
Besides.... this land was originally belong to the red Indians anyway.
I am really bummed out today, not a good Sunday at all.

Por favor, when someone never makes a remark about your choices in life, your lifestyle, the way you do your hair, or, the color of your toe nails or for Pete's sake, why you are wearing pink tutus today, please be courteous enough not comment on their choices.
It's rude. And below the belt.
There's a reason why I don't make a remark on people's choices, and that's because I don't appreciate people tell me how I should run my life.

Having said that, every time I encounter this kind of things, there two things that I'm always thankful for the event. One is, I'm thankful that I am exposed of such thing that I understand what to expect or not to expect from that person in the future. Second, I'm thankful that I am not that bitter/critical/superficial/mean-hearted or whatever the trait that was being conveyed.

And the later one makes me think... hey,... I'm not too bad at all... I'm actually a nice person.

The Crackhead

I went in.
Inhaled the nicely scented air.
I walked slowly. Examining.
I was in a state of bliss.
All were pleasantly arranged based on type and color.
I touched.
I tried.
I smelled.
I rubbed.
I get excited.
My heart rate increased.
Then...
I bought
YET ANOTHER LOTION from Bath and Body Works.
You see...
I have a disorder.
The Bath and Body Works Disorder.
I know I have lots and lots of lotions and soaps and body wash, and room fragrances and body splashes, in many different sizes, in jars, tubes and bottles. I put my bottles according to color and the purposes in my cabinet. They give me comfort. I keep some in the office, in the bathroom, on my nightstand and once I had a tube of lotion in my car,... until the winter froze it and the consistency was never the same again after it warmed up.
I have the supply of lotions that will last until I give birth to my first child, and mind you, I haven't even set a wedding date yet.
I've got the BBWD.
Bath and Body Works is just like crack.
Like just now, I opened my cabinet and, gasped, I have a full tube of cherry blossom body wash. AND the moonlight path one too. (Whisper) I don't know when I bought them...
I wonder if anyone is experiencing the same thing.

My friend cancelled going back to Indonesia. Yay!
At the last minute, finally someone saw his potential and hired him.
It's about time.
Although... he'll be going to New York and, still, leave me here in the flat Midwest land with no one to have dimsum party with.
But, it's okay, my cellphone covers national plan, we're only 12 hours apart (by car) and an hour different, time zone wise.
Plus, YANKEES Stadium! Here I come!
A friend in times of happiness is easy to find, a friend in sorrow hard hardly ever exists.
He's the second kind.

I wish him well, all I can say is: Dude, don't go to the ghetto by yourself, and find a nice apartment by the subway with extra space for me to crash.
Peace out... we'll be in touch. After helping me out moving my stuff from place to place,... finally, I need to really get myself some professional movers the next time I change address.

I hate goodbyes, but what can I say? I do the goodbye this time with a smile... how can you not? My best friend can now officially sing: I'm an Alien in New York.