Fixing broken things

I’m on a mission to fix broken things, saving things worth saving.

Like for example my printer. It was working the entire year after I bought it in December 2020 and the black cartridge became shot because of the printing job I did last Friday. 72 pages of complaint/petition. I went to Greenhills this afternoon to have it fixed and et voila! It was clogged with cars. Like inflation didn’t climb to its highest level in 14 years and people are still shopping like there’s no tomorrow.

People on a shopping galore. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Greenhills gives me the chills. I’m always reminded of my #$%$#%^&*(* ex because we were often there to have his laptop or mini-PC fixed. Or to buy his Gundams. Or to meet for the weekend so he can drop off his laundry at my apartment—never I get invited over that condo we leased together. Probably the slut was already sleeping over there. Then I remember the time I went to Greenhills to order the girls’ new PCs and I was supposed to go to his condo to bring him some stuff and I was thinking of spending the night there. Then he got unreasonably angry because I was going there when he clearly said he won’t be there because he was supposedly meeting somebody in Megamall or something.

That was…that tore me apart.

So Greenhills is still a sore point with me, two years after.

I’m still fixing myself, getting back my self-esteem and confidence. Trying to forgive myself for letting myself be used in so many ways. Trying to forgive myself for ignoring red flags that this person is horrible.

No person has broken me more than him. Not even the girls’ dad.

I don’t want to encounter J ever again. Ever.

Part of fixing myself is trying to get back in shape. I got stalled during my holiday because I got sick. Then I lazy because…I was I was dealing with a storm and a roller coaster of emotions.

Because I was off from my workouts for a week, I got bloated again. Now I wonder if I could still fit in my dresses that I was thinking of wearing for the cocktails event in Singapore that our company is sponsoring.

Which reminds me that I should look at new clothes to bring to Singapore when I go to Makati on Tuesday for a meeting.

Still on the topic of fixing, I am fixing our lives (after the hiccup with J) by building our future, which includes my new tiny house. While I was in Greenhills, I saw the new area where the furniture and home decor stalls relocated. I checked out some lighting fixtures and…

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Photo by CallMeCreation.com

For some reason I want to hang this in my bathroom. The store owner said this was really meant for a bedroom but people had been telling her they were going to install it in their bathrooms, too. She just couldn’t get why. I don’t understand it either but it looks just right for a ridiculously decked out bathroom.

And the funny thing here is my bathroom is just condo-sized.

There is more space beyond that annoying post and beam that we could not move. My contractor said he will just disguise the post by making concrete shelves. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

To make this more over-the-top, the bathroom door is hardwood–the former bedroom door.

Then I saw this, which was prettier and cheaper than the ones from Ikea.

I’d like this to hang over the dining table. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I just need to send these photos over to my contractor. I think he will have a heart attack when he sees the chandelier. HAHAHAHAHAHA!

And finally, I am trying to fix the broken water system of my hometown.

We arrived at the office of the water utility before 10 am. I didn’t tell the people here that I was bringing along the local broadcast network with me to document the entire thing as a payback for snubbing their invitation to guest on their show because they wanted answers why we are so fucked up.

I also didn’t tell the company that I was bringing the GM of the water district—the government-owned company that was part of the JV and part regulator (yeah, the set-up is messy and I will try to get to the bottom of this).

Only when we were seated did I tell them that the crew I had with me were part of the local broadcasting station.

Long story short—they don’t have any disaster SOPs in place, to capex plans, no systems in place. NOTHING. No record of improvements on infra, NOTHING. Except for this newly constructed office, which I learned was built at the height of the pandemic. Sneakily.

New office of the water utility. Photo by CallMeeCreation.com

I could no longer recount what I said and what others had said because it triggers me so much. My sister, who is a climate change disaster mitigation and adoption expert, asked questions that they could not answer—very important points that every utility and local governments must address.

The GM and the community relations manager (the husband and wife tandem) couldn’t say anything. They knew they were fucked. And it’s all being recorded.

It will be aired tomorrow. Then I will share the broadcast to anyone who would care.

They didn’t know what hit them.

I’ve been in this business for long time and I wouldn’t survive it if I haven’t learned how to be crafty, sharp, and always on my toes. Journalism is a mind game. My guide has been the 48 Laws of Power, which has taught me how to handle people and how to approach people who are higher in stature than me. I have to be two steps ahead of my interviewee and of the principal characters in the stories I am pursuing.

This is why I like strategy games.

In the meantime, I need to rid myself of bad jujus because some heavy work load is ahead of me this week. I’m scheduled to present to the commercial team on Thursday, showdown with a conglomerate (that is part of the water JV of my hometown) on Wednesday, and meeting on Tuesday.

Sigh. *pat on my back*

Everything will be all right. I’m doing good. —> I need to assure myself or else I will crumble with stress.