I began to kneel to pick up the bit of freeze-dried hybrid mango that I had so rudely dropped on the carpet

“Don’t worry about it, the Robo-vaccum’ll get it,” my host so graciously assured me. I absolutely hated wasting freeze-dried mango; it was my weakness, just one of the myriad of temptations I succumbed to. I could not say no to sugary bright orange slices of the tropical fruit.

“Right,” I stammered and reverted back to my full 6′3” stature. I had not yet grown accustomed to the lifestyle of the outrageously wealthy in the new city. As a humble young journalist, I only sought the basics in life. Although I suppose a robo-vaccum wasn’t really anything new or lavish, but my apartment in the heart of the old sector did not contain such luxuries. In fact, after my dishwasher began sputtering a few years back, I have yet to get a replacement. According to my friends I was a Neanderthal, still living in the early 2000’s.

My host sat, legs-crossed on the red micro-fiber sofa of the minimalist style that the young wealth had embraced. I interviewed the up-and-coming originator of the movement the other week.

“Trey Phan, right?”

“What?” she responded absent-mindedly as her drink refilled itself. “Oh right. Paul loves this type of shit.” She crossed her legs again, this time left over right.

“Well that’s a good segue into the article. What’s it like living with Paul, arguably the premier architect of the new sector, and the definitely the youngest?”

“It’s great. He’s been gone a lot lately surveying different sectors all over the grid, but we make it work.”

“How did you two first meet?”

“I don’t know if he’ll like that I’m telling this, but actually a Pilates class. It was the summer before my senior year of college, and Paul joined my class. I didn’t know who he was then, but always thought he was cute.”

My handheld recorded each question and each answer with ease. Letters and words popped up on the screen at breakneck speeds. This was probably the only high-tech item I possessed. Suddenly, it stopped. I looked down at my handheld. I felt a ray coming in and sure enough my handheld began to vibrate.

“I’m really sorry, but I gotta take this.” I stepped onto their balcony overlooking the arrays of glass buildings, many of which Paul himself designed. A little image of my boss appeared, “First murder in the new sector. You’re the closest one there, so I need you on the scene. I know you normally only cover A&E, but sorry man, you’re the closest to the scene, so I need you there. You know I don’t want to do this, because damn, Liz sure is a hottie.”

My boss was one of those sexual-harassment types. This is why he wasn’t out doing the field work. I went back into the house.

“Sorry Liz, but I got to fly. You know how it is. Can we reschedule?” I asked apologetically and grabbed my jacket.

“Oh yea sure, not a problem. I’m not sure when I’ll be available next though. I’ll be working on the line and the benefit for the next few weeks. Just shoot me a ray, and I’ll see what I can do.” She downed her fourth glass.

“Thanks so much,” and I quickly left. Heading down to the area where the murder occurred, the streets got continually dirtier. Brand new sky-rises looked abandoned. Kevlar windows were scratched up and gratified over. The new sector wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. This I would soon find out.

To the older couple swinging their hands held, walking down Broadway towards the park as the sun, snug in the sky, slowly comes off its pedestal—
Thank you.

To the father playing catch with his young son in the brilliantly green front lawn,
Thank you.

To my neighbors, who I suspect are slightly tipsy, and are talking several decibels higher than necessary on their deck about driving (quote: “there was a fucking garbage truck driving on the wrong side of the road),
Please stop.

Thank you for this beautiful day.

Common Exchange

Person A: “God, that burrito did not settle well with my stomach.”
Person B: “At least you had something to eat. There are starving children in Africa, that WISH they could have had that burrito.”

Interchange burrito with chili, nachos, sesame chicken and everyone has been a witness or participant of such a conversation.

However, the notion that there is bound to be someone somewhere suffering much more than you, so you should just suck it up, is deeply flawed.

It is condescending. One is clearly putting themselves in a position where they can still be above others. It’s seeking contentment out of the anguish of others, which is kind of sick, if you really think about it. Yes! Those famished African children have it much worse, now I feel much better and will quit my bitching. See?

Additionally, with this philosophy, there is no motivation or drive to get out of one’s current situation. It tries to legitimize one’s current status by saying it’s okay. So what I just gambled my house, children’s college tuition and retire money away? Some people out there don’t even have money to lose in the first place. I should be happy with what I’ve got.

Instead of partaking in such backward thinking, one ought t o strive to make oneself better, and persevere out of the situation. Pondering the plight of others worse off will not help your situation at all.

Sometimes I find myself slipping into such backwards thinking. Hypocrite that I am, I consider the poor African children, but then I realize I just need to worry about getting my own ass together.

Ice caves
Ocean waves
One in all
All in one

Brr, it’s cold.
so I’ve been told.

I mentioned in the last post how I had been surprised by my friends in a pet store– allowed to pick out my very own bunny rabbit. There were two beautiful black “lion head” bunnies, affectionately called “lion heads” because of their poufy mane-like fur. The employee at the pet store asked if I wanted to hold on, and placed it in my arms. I immediately feel in love. Its small warm body molded to my arms, and I could feel its little heart beating. The other bunny looked almost identical, although a little larger and its fur seemed to be fuller. To be honest, it looked healthier and more lively. I couldn’t decide which one to get. I asked my friends and they leaned towards the livelier one. Even the employee (when I asked), preferred that one. But for some reason I had already become quite partial to the smaller, almost sicklier one. Maybe I could see myself in it for some reason. But because I am easily influenced, I chose the stronger one. But then after a few minutes of contemplation, my indecisiveness was taking over and something inside of me really wanted the other one, so a switch-a-roo occurred. In the car ride home, I thought once again– maybe I should have picked the other one. But these thoughts faded soon, as I petted the little furry mass in my lap. That night we put the little bunny in the cage we had all ready, complete with a Tiki house made of wood and hay that it could gnaw on, a carrot-shaped feeding bowl, a water bowl and litter box. We watched it for a little while, and then my friend tried to pick it up, but there was some watery poop in its hind end, so she put it back. I immediately thought to the rabbit books and websites I had read before (when I had previously owned a rabbit). Diarrhea in rabbits is very serious, and often fatal if not treated within the first 24 hours. However, I convinced myself that it was fine, possibly a little bit of an upset stomach. It was afterall transitioning to a new home, and naturally would be stressed. And it was still rather lively in its cage.

I awoke the next morning to find the bunny lying in its food bowl. I could see its chest moving up and down. As I got closer to the cage and looked at it, it didn’t move. I found this behavior odd, as normally rabbits are very receptive to sound and movement and perk up. But once again, I thought maybe it was tired from its big adventure. I reached in the cage to pick it up, and it barely resisted me at all. It weakly tried to kick its legs, but that was all. Now I began to realize this behavior was not normal at all. I gently set it down on the padded floor of the cage, and it didn’t move at all. Its heart was still beating and I could see its chest move up and down, but it seemed drained and sickly. I tried to pick it up again to see what was ailing it, but then it squeaked, a terrible mournful squeak that I cannot get out of my head. From my previous readings and experience, I knew that rabbits rarely ever made sounds, especially squeaks, except when in pain or extreme agitation. And I let it alone. I quickly went upstairs to the computer to research something I could do. I found that sometimes baby bunnies developed diarrhea because their gastrointenstianl systems are very delicate. The diarrhea can be fatal without immediate attention and it causes them to be dehyraded. I then found a mixture of water, sugar and salt that was supposed to help. I quickly gathered the ingredients and prepared to feed it to the bunny. I went downstairs, and the bunny still lied there, exactly where I left it. I tried to pick it up again, and its body was limp. I tried to let it drink some of the solution, but it was too late. Its heart had ceased to beat, and I held a dead fuzzy bunny rabbit in my arms.

I was rather sad and hysterical about the whole ordeal, i.e. I was in the middle of a pet store, holding a box with a deceased bunny rabbit inside, hysterically crying. I am lucky my friend was with me, as she explained to the employees what was going on. They probably thought that I was rather crazy, as I had only known and been in the company of this little furry creature for a matter of hours, but it was seeing its furry body limp in the box. And knowing that it must have died a terrible death, in a strange cage, with a giant strange asian girl looking at it, in a strange house, without its mother and siblings.

But I must follow my own mantra of getting over things. I overanalyze and think too much. There are too many what-ifs in the world. And I know this, yet my mind cannot help but drift to them. For now, I must remember what I have previously wrote. “All good things must come to an end (in this case the end came very, very quickly)” and I need to move on. Right now, my friends are planning on getting me a new rabbit. I don’t know if I’m ready now, but we’ll see. I only wish the first attempt had worked out.