Remember, that man sitting in Malacañang now wanted the people in EDSA strafed. He was 29 years old.
Never forget
Author Archives: admin
Odd
I had to make an advisory to other editors that our Philippines reporter and I will take the day off because idiot president hastily declared a holiday late Thursday afternoon. We could have made better plans for the long weekend.
Despite the declaration of a holiday, the event at the central bank pushed through. Of course, you can’t reset a thing like this without making a mess of bank presidents’, CEOs and conglomerate owners’ schedules.
The good thing here though is that the roads are less congested. Wohoo!
I worked for a bit at Starbucks in G5 because of companies (or rather pushy PRs) that insist on their own way, forgetting that there is such thing as editorial independence. Diva execs, pushy PRs, and unreasonable company policies–what a way to end the week.
Upon arriving at the central bank, I noticed there were new paintings at the 3rd floor lobby. One staff member told me they have just acquired the collection of UCPB and that is now scattered all over the main building. Unfortunately, I only had time to see three paintings when there must have been hundreds of them. I had to work my butt off last night.
One time I will tell my friends at the BSP comms dept I will drop by to see the sculptures and paintings in their collection during one less hectic day. It’s not easy to gain access there and I had been going in and out of their premises regularly for years as a reporter. Might as well take advantage of that.
They gave me this uncut live currency to add to my collection of like items and commemorative coins. I’m still looking for the uncut 20-peso bills where I had former central bank governors sign their names. Two of them sadly passed on. That item is one of the, if not the most precious souvenir I had kept as a banking reporter. The girls’ dad must have it with him, including my analog cameras.
Psychosomatic
It turns out nothing is wrong with me. My bad cholesterol, uric acid, and triglycerides are back to normal from their stratospheric heights in 2021 while my blood sugar (both FBS and hba1c) remains normal. My major organs are fine (unremarkable, the interpretations said). So what’s the deal with my stomach pain that knocked the wind out of me?
It’s stomach acids, not the pancreas, my attending physician said. If I respond to the drug he gave me, then it’s acids. If I don’t, then it’s likely ulcer and I need an endoscopy to ascertain it. But my GI specialist isn’t that perturbed because there is no bleeding or signs that I am at that point. He just gave me an order for the pancreas scan if I wanted to but he says it’s not needed unless I get another similar attack. I will have that scan because stomach acids cannot explain the pain that radiated to my back.
Shit! It’s really stress. It’s eating me alive.
I am really, really done for.
And you know what’s the tragic thing here? They don’t f*cking care if you die. You’re just another tool. Another cog. You are replaceable.
Just like our in-house legal counsel. He had cancer and he worked himself to death. He loved his job because he was a journalist first and then a lawyer second. He bit the bullet for us whenever we had lawsuits. And now, he is forgotten. The new management didn’t even get to know him.
I checked my house first before going to the hospital this afternoon.
I strolled a bit to go to the jeepney stop because it’s better to take public transport than bring my car. I don’t want to fight for parking space at the hospital. The campus is teeming with students again after almost 3 years. The first semester was hybrid so it was still like a ghost town here from August to December.
I decided to go back to QC early (3 pm) since traffic was light and took the mountain bypass road that I had grown to love through the years.
Maybe moving back here is the right choice. My stress is not as pronounced compared to when I’m back at my apartment in QC. Maybe because I’m cooped up in there. Maybe because I’ve always been a provinciana that the knots in my whole body uncoil when I see trees.
I’ve always been…that I know
“Because I love painting. I have to paint. I have always been a painter, that I know.”
“A born painter?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I can’t do anything else, and believe me, I’ve tried.”
How painful is it when the only thing you know how to do and love to do suddenly leaves you?
Just like when I couldn’t write. It’s like the light has gone out in my world. Thank God I was able to write today. Two stories. I’m myself again.
More about that later.
The dialogue above is from the movie At Eternity’s Gate and I can’t find it on Netflix. Probably Google has it on Google TV…Ah I just looked. It’s not available in my country. Based on the trailer, it seems like Willem Dafoe was born to play Vincent Van Gogh. He looked believable. He was so good in this that he received his fourth Oscar nomination for this.
So now back to this writer’s block…It took an enormous amount of willpower to force myself to write today. Promptly at 9 am, I started to tap on my keyboard. The most difficult thing to write is the first sentence. In journalism, it’s the lead. Once you’ve done with it, everything else will follow.
I also willed myself to write because I know I will get fucked up if I can’t push this story out today. I know I will have more trouble writing if I push it for another day. And another. And another. Until it gets so bad that I won’t be able to write for months.
Good thing I was already done with the story when I attended the call with our global editor in the afternoon. I don’t know why I had to ask about that thing that drives me nuts about the hiring when I knew the answer already. Still I asked. I should have known that it will still be the same—what do I expect? 🤦♀️
It’s like I intentionally wanted to get hit by a train and watch the train wreck while squished between the wheels and the track.
I don’t know if there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.
Again, I was barely productive
Nah. This is just a fancy type of red grape juice from Spain. If I let it ferment in my fridge for a couple of years, I think it will become red wine. Until I get cleared by my GI specialist whom I would see on Thursday, I won’t drink any form of alcohol. But playing pretend helped me to get through today.
I know it’s bad to have meals in front of the computer but here I am, violating that rule.
I really needed a lot of help to get me focused on the task at hand today. It’s like pulling a tooth. At least I was able to push out another story today, co-written by two other colleagues. All I did today is 1) beg for the son/child of owner (COO) of a Southeast Asia conglomerate to grant me an interview but he demanded an F2F one so I need to fly to Singapore for that; 2) interview a candidate and administer tests to other candidates; 3) respond to a thousand emails. But I never got around to finishing that story today when I should have.
I am paralyzed. I can’t write anymore.
It was just like in 2014 when I quit my local news job and in 2021 when I was swimming in the depths of my depression.
I remember my therapist telling me it’s anxiety that kills my creativity so I keep pushing away tasks and procrastinate so much that I end up with too many backlogs. It’s anxiety that is keeping me from doing the very basic of things that used to be second nature to me.
I just had a chat with another bureau chief from another region and he is in the same boat: this hiring and staff shortage are killing us. It’s not our jobs to be HR managers. He was told to poach from other departments because we are freeze-hiring. And he tried some analysts for the journo gig but in the end, one analyst/journo candidate cried when he submitted his writing test. It turns out he can’t write. My colleague/fellow bureau chief said it was easier for him to rewrite the whole thing instead of editing it. It was that bad.
We are already too stretched. When I told him, “I said there’s no way I can hire the “quality” candidates they’re looking for,” he told me he almost burst out laughing in the coffee shop where he was working. Because the top people think we’re in the same league as the big media companies that candidates would make a beeline for us. Or that we can poach from them and the candidates would just come running to us and jump ship.
They’re so delusional.
It’s so taxing. I’m tired. He’s tired. All of us are.
We have lost many headcount and yet we are pressured to keep productivity and engagement at the same level. This is ridiculous.
Oh God, please me help write tomorrow. I can’t go on like this–the fight, flight, or freeze response to stress.
And then there are the nasty people who feel so entitled that they think it is imperative that we make a story about them or their company. They pester us for coverage when there are more important things to cover/more interesting things to feature/write about. Then when we can’t give them the immediate response, they turn nasty. HEY, WE DO NOT OWE YOU ANYTHING! If we do not return your correspondence in two months, that means your story is not compelling. Don’t harass us or throw us some attitude.
I remember a friend telling me about the same situation with a guy who pestered them for coverage for months. She granted that interview to shut him up after he showed an attitude. She told me no more interviews/favors to that person from now on.
X-mark, she said.
Some people can be so…
Hello! We’re not a free billboard for ads.
It’s only Tuesday but it feels like it has already been an eternity.
I could not pick up a pencil to draw. I’m drained emotionally. There’s just too much anger towards management. I just hope we can get through this desert. This is already too frustrating. We love what we do but this is just getting more ridiculous.
A little bit of leeway for me
I’ve come to dread Mondays since January. Today, however, was a bit easier for me ever since I told my boss I need to go easy on the hiring. If they start harping on it again, then I have to say something that they don’t want to hear.
Meanwhile, I was able to book 3 days, 2 night stay in a hotel in Ortigas for the Holy Week. I decided to do a staycation for that long weekend to 1) get away from this apartment for a bit; and 2) celebrate the twins’ birthday in advance. We can cool off in the pool without getting stuck in traffic because Metro Manila will flush out the rest of humanity during these dates. Good luck to everyone who will attempt to go out of town during the Holy Week. May the odds be in your favor. 😂
Once I’m settled in my new house after mid-May, damn it, I will go diving again. All my disposable income had been funneled into my tiny house and I have deprived myself of beach vacations for months.
I would love to bring the girls to Palawan before they start 7th Grade in their new school. I’ll just use my miles to shave off the cost of their plane tickets. I have a high school classmate who runs her Coron tours in which you can wake up to a new island every morning for a week. Or I can do a DIY island hopping for me and my girls.
