Vegetarian

For some reason, the idea of Vegetarianism is gnawing at me more and more recently.

Perhaps it's because of the horrific sight that haunted me some while ago - a full truck load of pigs squeezing against one another. I cannot even remember if the pigs were alive or dead, just that the sight was so nauseating that I can never look at pork quite the same way.

Yet I am not ready to fully commit myself to being a Vegetarian. The allure of juicy succulent beef still hold me captive. So as a result, my carnivorous self and herbivorous self are in constant conflict, putting me in great dilemma.

On some days, I would give anything just to sink my teeth into a 8oz. piece of medium rare prime rib, savouring every single bite without the least tinge of contempt.

On other days, I detest meat and crave for a light crisp refreshing platter of garden greens, with just a hint of balsamic vinegarette and pepper.

Lately, the pendulum seems to favour the vegetarian side a little bit more, and I simply do not know why. I'm sure, though, that giving up meat is not out of health or dieting concern. Is it stemming from animal rights concern? May be. Spirituality? Perhaps.

It is like going on a journey without preparation. You never know where you will end up. I'm eager to find out where this road will lead me to.

LASIK

A life-changing 30 minutes.

After a pseudo "alien abduction" experience, I have regained what I lost for 30 years.

It all started with the change of clothes to scrubs. That hideous scrub epitomized the flaw in my vision. The kind nurse briefed me thoroughly about the procedure, before instilling anaesthesia to my eyes several times. As I waited nervously for the doctor's pre-op consultation, I felt my cornea growing thicker by the minute. I wondered why the sensation of my cornea was rather enhanced after the anaesthesia.

The doctor, all set in professional scrubs, greeted me warmly and examined my flawed eyes one last time. My eyes felt an odd, cold sensation as he marked my cornea with a fine-point felt pen at the 3 o'clock and 9 o'clock positions of the iris. I looked like a work in progress cyborg. How I wish I could have taken a picture of myself.

After a few more minutes of waiting, I bid farewell to my heavy glasses and left them in the waiting booth. Guided by the nurse, I began Part 1 of my metamorphosis - Intralase corneal flap cutting. Lying on the bed, I was snuggly covered with a warm blanket, feeling nervous and ecstatic at the same time. My left eye was fitted with a suction cup. As the suction began, my vision disappeared for a few seconds, after then my eye was bombarded by bright silver light in a circular formation. A chilling "cracking" sound was heard, although I had no idea what it was for. 10 seconds later, my left corneal flap was done. Now, my right eye.

I rested in my waiting booth for 20 minutes. The nurse told me the eyes needed time to "release the bubbles". I assume it was a consoling way to say "balance out the pressure of the cornea". My eyes didn't hurt, no sensation whatsoever, but I prefer to visualize the bubbles fizzing away from my cornea, like sparkling champagne.

Part 2 began as I entered another operating room for the actual laser sculpting of my cornea. The lack of a skull-securing device worried me a bit. I looked at the green light high above my head, which appeared as a fuzzy frozen firework , as instructed by the kind doctor. I was amazed at the height of the lights, for it was at least 5 feet from my head.

After taping my right eyelids open, the doctor traced the outline of my iris to open the corneal flap using a thin wire-like instrument. My already blurry world was even blurrier, as if engulfed by a menacingly thick fog. A wonderful display of red lights ensued as the laser sculpted my thick cornea to the perfect curvature. My eyes felt nothing, yet I couldn't help but saying to myself, this must be what it's like to be abducted by aliens. Totally helpless, totally vulnerable in the lights. I have never tried so hard NOT to divert my gaze from an object. A strange burnt scent confirmed the vaporization of my cornea.

Humming sounds of the laser machine stopped 20 seconds later. Gushes of saline flooded my eye as the doctor meticulously smoothened the flap back onto the cornea, using a tiny plastic scraper. The moment he was done, miraculously, the previously fuzzy green firework imploded into a single green light! My left eye welcomed the repeat procedure with a fervent desire.

As I walked out from the operating room, the world was in a much solid form than it was when I entered. The doctor re-examined my eyes before letting me out to explore the new and improved world. From his expression, I could tell he was quite pleased with the operation. His satisfaction is minuscule compared to the joy I was about to experience. My eyes were shielded with a sci-fi nerdish plastic eye piece secured with surgical tape to my forehead and cheeks.

Once home, I went to bed as instructed. Giddy from my newfound vision, I could barely keep my eyes closed. Failing to fall asleep, my eyes started to feel a burning sensation and tears were unstoppable. The nurse informed that this is a normal reaction which normally will cease in a few hours. After some tossing and turning, I managed to sleep through the next 4 hours. Peering through the see-through eye piece, my eyes embraced each and every object in my room with precise focus!

A check up this morning confirmed I am now down to just 50 degrees astigmatism and 25 degrees myopia. Time is still needed for my eyes to heal and stablize, but I am forever optically transformed, technically speaking.

20/20

What is it like to open one's eyes in the morning and see everything in clear vision?

To me, the memory of waking up to a non-blurry world does not exist. All I see is a glob of undefinite swirling foggy mess, if unaided by corrective apparatus.

Distant lights appear as little fireworks, frozen in time. With each squint of the eyes, the fireworks waver in and out of focus. Romantic indeed.

Faces within 2 feet are barely recognizable, facial features all blended together like a piece of abstract art. Farther than 2 feet? I'm sorry, who are you? I can't even see where you start and where you end. You are just a ghost with a blurry outline to me.

Some believe our present day traits and personalities are greatly influenced by our past lives. A Jew-hater in the Hitler era can be sure to reincarnate into a pure-bred Jew in the next life time. In this case, my serious myopia and astigmatism is surely karma's way to teach me a lesson in this life time. Perhaps I was too harsh on 4 eyed monsters previously?!

Sadly, I am the only person I know who possess such a critical optical condition, apart from my grandmother. I may have already exceeded her condition when comparing vis-a-vis in age.

This is it. I'm taking matters in my own hands now. My time in the surreal blurry fog is up in less than 100 hours.

Farewell to my 500 lb "superlite" glass lenses encased in burgundy acetate D&G frames, whose endtips are badly chewed up by my cat.

Farewell to the sleepiness, migraines and depressed mood caused by the heavy glasses. Not to mention the dent in the bridge of my nose, thanks to the years of heavy weight on them.

Farewell to my oh-so-thin Toric contact lenses, which caused me much dryness and discomfort in wee hours and smoky clubs. I have to thank you, though, for existing as an option for me to escape from the horrid 4-eyed monster curse.

Farewell to the tiny frozen fireworks and the ghosts that have been with me all these years.

In less than 100 hours, the world will be reborn in my eyes. If nothing goes wrong.

Aging

It's dawned on me that I am suffering from a case of Aging-phobia.

I encountered 4 different elderlies, in 4 different circumstances in a matter of 2 hours, after then I ponder about my own future in 50 years time.

My first encounter was in a bus. A rickety old man boarded the bus with a guy who seems to be his son. No one offered their seat to this poor man who can only walk small steps. I stepped aside and offered him to sit on the meticulously hidden handicap folding chair.

Second encounter was at the bus stop where I got off. Similar story, but this time it's an old lady trying to get off the bus without tripping or falling. The young'uns behind her not only didn't help her, but trying to squeeze past this struggling woman. Some even grumbled.

Third encounter, an old lady being carried on a man's back boarding a taxi in Sheung Wan. She was clearly unwell, with a yellow/greyish cast on her face, and her feet had a huge wound bound with bandages. She was not wearing any shoes.

Fourth encounter, on my way back home, I saw a frail old lady on a wheelchair surrounded by loud relatives. They were leaving my apartment building discussing how to reach their next destination. The old lady was sitting quietly among the blabbering nonsense, perhaps wondering when they were going to shut up.

I am starting to worry about myself. Knowing aging is inevitable, it scares me even more to know that I just might turn up like them. The feeling of dependance will be overwhelming. Adding to that, the attitude of the people around is making it even less tolerable.

Better gulp down some milk now. No fun walking around with fragile bones in 50 years.

Adventure

Everyday is an adventure.

Even a cat's day is full of adventures.

Who would have thought a cat's life is so full of sweet surprises?

Spoiled

I don't know what kind of magic or spell wawa and her sister, muimui, has placed on me, but whatever it is, it seems to be working. Real well.

They are the bosses of the household, and I'm their loyal slave. One long desolate meow, complemented with round green marble eyes dilated to their fullest (aka the Puss Technique as so vividly portrayed in Shrek 2 &3), can get them virtually everything they want. From food to play things to coming into the room for the night, yes miss, your wish is my command.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm spoiling them too much.

Dreaming

As I'm typing this, wawa is sleeping right beside me. Eyes half-closed, little paws twitching, and breathing rapidly. Seems like she is having her REM sleep. What kind of dream does a cat have?

Is it about her daily life, which mainly evolves around food, play and sleep? Do I get to play a part in her dreams? Or, does wawa dream of something she never gets to do in real life? Like flying?

Her marble-like eyes are wide open now, looking at me with a "Whatcha looking at?" expression. I'm sorry, my wa, my furious typing has woken you up. I wonder if she is mad at me interrupting her sweet dream. Miraculously, she is back in her dreamland in no time. I wonder if she can continue the sequel of her dream.