A Day of Fighting a Cold

 Over the past few days, I have not been feeling well. I developed a runny nose, my heart was beating faster than usual, and my body felt unusually warm at night while I was sleeping. These symptoms were also reflected in the data recorded by my Apple Watch, which made me even more concerned. I worried that my condition might worsen and turn into a cough in the coming days.

Because of this concern, I woke up earlier than usual today and went to the market to buy lemons and kumquats, hoping to strengthen my body with more vitamin C. After searching online, I learned that drinking coffee could cause dehydration, so I decided to give up my morning coffee and put it away in the refrigerator.

In the evening, after a meeting with my process team, I shared my condition with a colleague. He kindly gave me a packet of Japanese cold medicine to help relieve my symptoms. To my surprise, the medicine worked much faster and more effectively than the lemons and kumquats. Within thirty minutes of taking it, my runny nose completely stopped.

I felt deeply relieved and grateful. Thanks to my colleague’s kindness and the effectiveness of the medicine, my condition improved quickly. I thanked God for this small but meaningful recovery and hoped that my health would continue to improve in the coming days.

My Feelings About the Fall of President Maduro

When I heard the news about President Maduro being captured, my first reaction was a deep sense of relief. For many people, this may simply be another political headline, but for me, it is closely connected to the lives and suffering of my friends from Venezuela. Over the years, I have listened to their stories of economic collapse, fear, and hopelessness. Because of them, Venezuela is not just a country on the news—it is a place filled with real people I care about.

Under Maduro’s leadership, Venezuela’s economy deteriorated dramatically. Even well-educated professionals such as pharmacists and teachers struggled to survive. The value of the currency dropped so severely that ordinary citizens could no longer afford basic necessities. My friends told me about shortages, insecurity, and the constant stress of not knowing what tomorrow would bring. Hearing these experiences made me feel angry and helpless, as no government should allow its people to live in such conditions.

One of my close friends was a pharmacist in Venezuela, a profession that should have provided dignity and stability. However, she was forced to leave her country in order to have a chance at a normal life. Even though she now works in a position far below her qualifications, she lives with more safety and peace than she ever did back home. This reality deeply shaped my view of the Maduro government.

Because of this, I feel hopeful that Venezuela may finally have an opportunity for change. I sincerely wish that my friends who remain there can live safely, freely, and happily in the future. If international involvement—especially from the United States—can help restore stability, order, and economic recovery, then I hope it will lead Venezuela toward a better path. Above all, my wish is simple: that Venezuelan citizens can live without fear, with dignity, and with hope for tomorrow.

Bad habit and change

 A few years ago, I developed a bad habit without realizing it at first. I became somewhat addicted to alcohol. I used to tell myself that drinking was only for the weekend, a way to relax and help me fall asleep after a long week. At the beginning, it felt harmless and even comforting.

Over time, however, I noticed that I was depending on alcohol more than I should. Relaxation started to feel impossible without it. That was the moment I understood that this habit was no longer a choice—it was becoming a reliance.

I decided to make a change in a very simple but firm way. I stopped buying alcohol and made sure there was none in my refrigerator. By removing the temptation from my daily environment, I gave myself fewer chances to give in. At first, it was uncomfortable, and weekends felt strange without my usual routine. But gradually, my body and mind adapted.

Looking back, I am proud of this decision. Breaking a bad habit does not always require dramatic actions; sometimes it starts with a small, clear rule and self-discipline. This experience taught me that real relaxation comes from a healthy mind, not from escaping reality. It also reminded me that I am capable of changing when I truly decide to do so.

My precious baby Lingling

    I have a 13-year-old female Shiba Inu from Japan. She is old now, but she is still my precious baby. She has been spoiled her whole life, and I am happy to let her be. Every day, I carry her up and down the stairs just so she can go outside for a short walk. My arms or legs get tired, but my heart never complains.

    At mealtime, she eats with caution, constantly watching Amu, afraid he might steal her food. She eats quickly, nervously. And if the food is not enough, she barks at me again, trusting that I will understand her needs. She trusts me completely.

    Every night, after eating her dinner, she will bark at me again around midnight, asking for more food. Even when I pretend to be asleep, she knows. Her small barks are demanding, but they are also a reminder that she is still here, still hungry, still full of life.

    She needs a dog bed everywhere—one in the bedroom, one in the living room, and even one in my landlord’s room. Every place must have her own bed, as if she wants to leave her presence behind wherever she rests. When Amu, the Husky my landlord raises, takes her bed, she never blames him. Instead, she looks at me with angry eyes, as if saying, “Why didn’t you protect what belongs to me?” She is smart like that. She always knows who to blame.

    Last month, she became sick and was diagnosed with gastroenteritis after blood tests and an X-ray. The veterinarian told me she has many bone spurs around her spine. Hearing that broke my heart. Thankfully, I have been giving her Antinol regularly to ease her pain. The doctor praised me for taking good care of her and said that because of this, she can still walk properly. If she had not received this care, she might have become paralyzed suddenly.

I realized then how fragile her time is, and how precious every ordinary day has become. Carrying her, feeding her, listening to her bark—it is all love. As long as she needs me, I will be there.