Vincent

Almond Blossom. Vincent van Gogh (1853 – 1890), Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, February 1890. He painted this with love for his nephew and namesake.

I was just vaguely aware of Vincent van Gogh’s life and was more familiar with his paintings.

Until tonight.

I read up on him the entire night (for some reason) and learned about his loving relationship with his younger brother, Theo. I felt his struggle with his mental health and his desperate need to paint because that was the only way to quiet his spirit and ease anxiety and depression (oh how painful it would have been without modern medicine!).

His anxiety deepened as he felt his dependence on Theo’s generosity is weighing on the future of his nephew–his namesake–and Theo’s wife.

He knew he was not getting better. He could no longer contain the pain.

Gun to his chest.

His brother died heartbroken six months after Vincent died of gunshot wounds.

Although I may never know how a bipolar felt, I could understand his need to paint and paint to draw out the pain from his body. As if painting numbs you. As if that’s the only way to silence the raging emotions within you, the pain of emptiness that envelopes you.

I wanted to cry for Vincent. It wasn’t his fault he was sick like that.


The last time I drew and painted was when I was 17.

Until I had an “episode” (as my doctor called it) in February this year—when I received J’s painting and had learned about the the truth that I didn’t want to discover—I have never produced something passable as art. It’s that pain of hollowness, that depression, that inexplicable feeling of wanting to be free from something unseen that drove my pencil and brush. Only my hands could express all of those because my keyboard suddenly became bereft of words.

This was a product of my need to draw my heart in a different way. I could not express the pain I had at that time so this came into being. I became a writer who could no longer produce words. That’s how bad it was. Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com

I drew this because I had no words to give friends who asked how I was. This was my easiest answer. Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com

I painted this when I was 15, inspired by Van Gogh’s cypress trees and some landscape painting of Arles. Because I was feeling his emotions through his brush strokes. It resonated with me. I must have been feeling something strong at that time when I did this. Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they’ll listen now

For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night

Vincent by Don McLean

It rains so hard on me

This is the face of anxiety. It has been under extreme pressure the past few days. It will be moreso in the coming days.

My best reporter called me up today. She will be leaving the company by the end of the year. She has two job offers and she’s just waiting if her E-pass will be approved under her chosen company. If it all goes well, she will tender her resignation after two weeks then give one month notice.

I cannot, for the life of me, think of somebody else to replace her because she’s that good. But I knew this day would come soon because we had been talking about this for quite some time even before I got promoted.

Now it’s really, really hard to hire good journalists in Singapore because there’s a dearth of good homegrown talent there when it comes to honest-to-goodness journalism. What can you expect from a country with an authoritarian government, right?

I have a lot of problems on my plate right now. I am just compartmentalizing each problem because I will melt down if I tackle them all. One of my problems is the Bangkok coverage, which I must solve soon.

Basically, there is nobody left in Singapore. And my company is limiting my movements. I honestly do not know what they want.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Quick watercolor book mark to manage anxiety. Art abd photo by CallMeCreation.com

So it goes on and on…

It aired. The excerpts of the meeting aired and of course it only showed a few points that I had raised. At least we showed the people that fighting for what is right is something that we all have to do and not just stay angry on social media. Nothing will happen if we just let social media take precedence over real action.

I’m not done yet. I’m still at the beginning.

Oh, but I’m so tired and stressed. I feel like I’m in this alone. They’re just all noise. No one from the home owners association or concerned groups bothered to show up during the meeting with the water company.

I’m in this roller coaster ride of emotions and tiredness. Good thing I’ll be abroad for 9 days to take a sort of break from all these local issues. Even for a while.

I just read an essay on NYT that got me thinking a lot. It made me read the readers’ comments to see if they agree or not and they didn’t disappoint. But I’m too sleepy and tired to elaborate on it. Will just put down my thoughts later.


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.

Blocking

Have you ever had a day that is emotionally draining that you just can’t discuss it or even think about what transpired?

Today is that day. Maybe I’ll talk about it tomorrow. But not tonight. 🫠I felt like I had been to war.

It was nice that my cats were waiting for me when I got home. ❤️

Waiting for me by the window. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I dropped off my rangehood at the construction site and…wohooo! My room now has a door!

I yet have to choose the varnish. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

The fittings aren’t cheap. I’m tired of things breaking down so I’m spending more than I should for things like doors, levers/knobs, and cabinetry.

Oh hello tiny kitchen. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I also checked the water reservoirs for installation because I don’t want to lose water when disaster strikes. I need two tanks (one is buffer tank and another is the gravity reservoir) and then pressure pump and pressure tank. Then we have to fabricate a tower to elevate one tank along the roof line. 🥴

Salesperson for reference. This costs 22k. I need two. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Sigh. More and more expenses.

But at least my tiny house makes me happy.