Category Archives: personal

Appreciation

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One of my favorite songs to sing in the past 14 months has been “Burnout” by Ebe Dancel but the version I’ve been singing is the one by Ben&Ben and Clara Benin. In appreciation of the artist/songwriter, I sent him a message, just to let him know that his work is important. I also happened to be the sister of one of his high school friends and we went to the same high school. He also struggled with depression after the breakdown of his marriage…so sometimes it helps if we send some kind of appreciation to the artists that we like since it gives them affirmation that what they’re doing makes sense even if the world doesn’t. It’s like when I receive Twitter direct messages from my readers, saying I was spot on with my last story or the stories coming from Southeast Asia are good, while I personally struggle keeping it together. Kind words are salve to a wounded soul.

Today I was in the mood to be a little extra so I made bacon-wrapped enoki mushrooms with the leftover homemade “Swedish” meatballs (the Ikea version recipe I found online) for brunch. The girls were happy.

Brunch for today. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

We didn’t go out today so we can rest and I can attend to my container garden that has been partly destroyed by the torrential rain earlier this week. I replaced the ones that drowned and trimmed the damaged foliage. Despite the damage, some blooms made me smile. For several months I struggled to make the mini roses bloom again. Which they did today.

Photo by CallMeCreation.com

And against all odds, some flowers survived the rain. Gives me some kind of assurance that I will somehow bloom again, too.

Blooming in the dark. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Just more tender loving care (constant watering, trimming, and fertilizing and re-potting) is needed and they will bloom again. Like I needed to attend to my needs and paid attention to myself (self-care), I will bloom again. It may take a long time but I just need to be patient. Once established, a torrential rain will not wash me out that easily.

This is Mochi (whom our neighbors call Whitey). He has healed really well after his neutering and he will soon receive his rabies and 4-in-1 vaccines c/o my neighbor. He loves the bed that we made for him just outside our door. He no longer bothers our cats by the window.

Mochi. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Once he has been vaccinated, the girls and I will attempt to give him a bath. Our cats hate baths.

Stories of two women scorned

I was chatting with the mother of the epileptic child who just died last month (my colleague’s ex-wife/scorned wife) and she was asking me about the annulment procedures and how much it costs. I told her better prepare half a million pesos because it’s that costly. I told her I am writing the check for the acceptance fee of my lawyer and I need to raise the other funds for the billable hours of my lawyer when hearings start. She got discouraged but then she said she will not file now since the father of her child is still grieving…too torn because he is being eaten up guilt and regret. I said she still has time to save up for the annulment.

Let’s call her N. She said her scoundrel of a husband (my colleague) had been having sex with this young journo in Sogo motels while she is in the hospital taking care of their child after every epilepsy episode. Just thinking about it makes her blood boil, she said. She said this husband was always absent and didn’t give time to their daughter when she was still alive and now he’s paying the price. He lost so many moments he could have been with their daughter but now she’s gone, he can’t bring back the lost time. It was her brother who assisted her every hospitalization of her daughter. She said she wants to be happy and find someone who will respect her and love her that’s why she’s making the separation legal.

I told her that’s the best move than we can make for ourselves. We shouldn’t just be accepting loose change for affection. That’s the problem with me (and her); we just accepted the bare minimum, thinking it was normal that it should be us who should be giving more into the relationship. “The next time,” I told N, “if I should choose to have a next time, the next person should treat me as if I was the best thing that happened to him. That I am precious to him. That he will appreciate me and love me and not treat me like a human appliance, as you termed it.”

J’s thank you doesn’t mean anything—it’s more of a move to soothe his conscience than pure gratitude—considering how he treated me like a rag and how he cheated on me while I supported him in all aspects. As N termed it, I was a human appliance and an ATM. Imagine, the slut moved into his condo unit a few days after he broke up with me. I could have learned about it a year ago given that I am well connected with real estate companies, especially this particular developer. Plus Jo worked at this company. But I chose not to because I wanted a clean cut. It is only now I learned all about this shit. Now everything fell into place for me—everything was premeditated. What he said about he wasn’t even thinking of breaking up with me that night of Dec 17, 2020–it was a lie. He was just waiting for the right time that I give up so that the break up will not be on his conscience. The reason why he was so angry at me for possibly dropping by unannounced was because he may be found out. If he really was thankful for everything I did for him, he should have treated me more kindly when we were together. I wonder if that’s the kind of treatment of women he had seen growing up.

So I told N I’m so done with men, especially Asian men. There’s something in the way they were raised by their Asian moms that made them so self-centered. She agreed since her ex (my colleague) is such an asshole and he was raised by a supermom who catered to him head to foot. Even J himself told me that his mom (who eventually became a solo parent) had a hard time with him, with his expensive tastes (i.e. his demands for cheeses and exotic food).

My journey has been so exhausting. So I told N that it was good that she’s still open to having another relationship after her scumbag of a husband. While me, I think I’m so done with it.

This other story is about my childhood friend who is now a lawyer in Singapore (who talked to me on FB messenger while on a cruise yesterday). She is paddling in three rivers–three different men, including her soon-to-be ex-husband. Long story short, she is looking for affection and running after them/looking for affirmation because she is a co-dependent like me. She grew up in a co-dependent household with her mom being the rag (co-dependent) and her dad the abusive husband (dependent). Anyway, she is justifying her actions because of her co-dependency issues. I told her she is just making herself more miserable and making her co-dependency syndrome an excuse. And exacting revenge on the woman her other guy is seeing will only fire up her anger and not give her peace.

“You are more than this. You are above this. Please, stop digging yourself into deeper shit. Heal yourself first because this will be a never-ending cycle,” I told her. “You are so messed up!”

I told her that I am also aware of my co-dependency issues but instead of using this as an excuse to fuel my desperation, I used this as a weapon against myself.

“I had desperately wanted to talk to him (J), I desperately wanted to be with him. I was already dying inside, but no, I chose not to act on it. I did not chase. I stopped all communication because all I had was my dignity. Imagine if I acted on my desperation for love, I would have been more humiliated and crushed today learning that he had been cheating on me despite giving him the world,” I was shouting and crying at the same time when I told this to my childhood friend. “It was my self-respect that saved me. Give yourself some self-respect. You are more than this person who is desperate for affection and seeking it in the wrong places/persons. Please, lift yourself out of this mess,” I cried.

This need for love, trying to fill the void by chasing affection from other people, can be cured by giving yourself the love, respect, and appreciation you deserve. You need to fill up the void yourself before you can find real love because you will discover your true worth, I told her. And you will now have a gauge for the next person, to know if he is enough, if his love is worthy of you. It’s hard, I know. It was an uphill climb for me. It has been 14 months but now I am slowly realizing that self-love is the best treatment I can give myself. “Please love yourself first. Appreciate yourself first. You are not a rag,” I said.

It’s true. I had been healing myself by giving myself the love that I had given J. I’m not there yet (as the unconditional love I gave him is still beyond my comprehension), but getting there…

I told her: Go up the ship’s deck. Watch the sunset. Put on make-up and dress up. Have nice cocktail on your hand while you lounge on the deck. Treat yourself. Pamper yourself. Love yourself. Put all your energies on yourself instead of exacting revenge on some woman or on R. Or trying to bait H. Or letting M dangle. Believe me you’ll be happier in the end.”

I told her I could have exacted revenge on J, I could have messed him up and told the Bureau of Immigration stuff so he could be blocked from renewing his tourist visa. I could have messed his business/es. I could have destroyed him among the rest of Philippine media and corporations but I chose not to. I could have stalked and made a mess with all his women (I could have researched and do some sleuthing because I’m an investigative journo by training) but I chose peace. I took the high road. I chose to heal. I’ll just leave it to God. As my colleague-friend said, expend your energies on more productive pursuits instead of wasting it on a worthless person.

I thank all the women friends who have supported me and empowered me. I’m in a much better place right now. I’m still messed up, still going through therapy, still hurting but I am slowly healing.

That’s why I’m helping these two women in my stories above. I’m paying it forward.

Badassery

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Repairing Twin I’s wobbly computer table with Ate C holding the table steady. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Today I did some minor carpentry jobs, mainly building Ikea furniture and repairing old study/computer desks of the kids. After a few hours, I was able to corral their overflowing stuff in neat drawers and gave a new lease on life to old furniture.

Some accomplishment today. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Some people (like J) just don’t appreciate domestic goddess and newsroom badassery rolled into one person. One day someone will.

Today is the 36th anniversary of first EDSA People Power revolution that ousted dictator Ferdinand Marcos and his family from power and the country. It’s surprising that we are still allowed to commemorate this day given that how this Duterte administration panders to the Marcoses.

In 2011, while I was heavily pregnant with the girls, I fired up my my laptop and started writing. This essay is still very much true today. (I can’t remember if I had this published by my news outfit in 2012-2014).

Photo from Rappler.com

25 YEARS AND COUNTING

I remember the radio blaring for 24 hours day after day. I could smell fear in the air. I was just six-going-seven at that time but I knew something earth-shaking was happening. My mother was glued to the only radio we had in the house then while my father was missing. I didn’t know where he was at that time but I just had an inkling that he was somewhere dangerous. That must have explained my mother’s anxiety at that time.

TV then was no good. A few days ago I watched on our mala-cabinet TV a bunch of people walking out of a hall. A big, big hall.

I had nightmares of those nights when Radyo Veritas invaded my sleep. There were so many voices. They were praying the rosary over and over.

Some weeks before that, my cousin Ina and I had a fight. She ran around their house shouting “Marcos! Marcos! Marcos pa rin!” I countered with “Marcos, imperyalista, diktador, tuta!”  Typical response from a daughter of two tibak parents. I didn’t know what that exactly meant—but I knew it was bad. I thought it was worse than saying putanginamo. Marcos was a bad man. My cousin said she liked Marcos because she liked the color red. Marcos’ party colors then were blue and red, if I remember it correctly. I liked yellow because it was cheerful to look at. I held up my hand that formed the letter “L” over my head. A fight broke out and tears and snot were all over the place.

My sister K, a year younger than I am, was caught in the middle of two opposing forces that were tearing each other’s hair. She could not take my side because she just loved Imelda. Whenever the Madame is on the TV screen, K would come rushing in front of it and gaze at her. She loved the pomp, the glamour, and the beauty that this woman exuded. She admitted to me that even today she is still fascinated with the woman. Who wouldn’t be? Imelda is so out of touch with reality that you wonder where in the world did she get the idea that she had to be constantly beautiful to help the poor Filipinos feel good about themselves. Then there’s this thing about Apple computers transforming into pacman…Oh just watch Ramona Diaz’s docu film Imelda. But I have to admit that she is indeed handsome and charming. I couldn’t take my eyes off her when I saw her some years ago at Shangri-La mall, flanked by two body guards. Then I saw her in Congress while I was covering a budget hearing. The woman glided past us. No, she didn’t walk. She glided. Like a queen. So regal. So Imeldific.

A self-proclaimed queen that brought the country to its knees. Like Marie-Antoinette.

My family had been collecting copies of Malaya, Mr & Ms. and the occasional Time magazines at our backyard. We had no other periodico at that time. My father said everything else was a big fat lie. I didn’t understand it then. But it was there, at our backyard, where my romance with newspapers started.

Nerves were frayed that fateful February. We didn’t know where my father was exactly at that time. There was no way of contacting us. There was talk of tanks, soldiers, and guns. Is he dead? Is he alive? What is happening? Those were the things that ran through my head. 

Then one day people came running out of their houses and spilled out in to the street. There was joyous chanting. K said there was a motorcade of some sort but she chose to stay at home that time. She was sulking. She was still rooting for the Madame. It’s funny how Imelda could mesmerize a five-year old kid.

It was only later I realized that my missing father was there somewhere with the thousands of Filipinos hand-in-hand facing down tanks and the nozzles of guns. It was only later that I realized that the Marcos-imperyalista-diktador-tuta had been rescued by the US government and whisked away to Hawaii.

Magkaisa. Kapit-bisig.

Everything had changed that day.

Well not so much.

The promise of change did not happen. Same oligarchs ruling their fiefdoms all over the country. Same poverty. Same patronage politics. We’re still the laggard of Asia.

I had been to the bukid, to Mendiola—everywhere—hoping change would soon come. As a young professional in November 2000, I had marched and slept on the streets of Mendiola with students to oust a corrupt president. I stormed EDSA after seeing that odious Tessie Oreta dancing in the background during the envelope opening brouhahaha in Senate in hopes of continuing the spirit of the first People Power. Hoping that this time true change may happen. It is the new generation’s responsibility of keeping the fire in the torch alive.

But change did not come.

I know I shouldn’t be hard on us. Change doesn’t happen overnight. Rome was not built in one day. But knowing that we are back to where we were before is tearing me apart. It pains me that people had become apathetic or ambivalent. We grew weary of People Power. Of EDSA. We had let a woman rob us right before our eyes. We had let her minions run free and plunder our country. We had let them desecrate the meaning of People Power.

You voted for a president because of a legacy he carries on his shoulders. That is indicative that Filipinos are still chasing that dream, that thing that has been eluding us for 25 years.

Change.

How could we have change when only the surface has been wiped out and replaced with cosmetically enhanced actors whose footprints have already graced the same stage they had been dancing on for years?

I wanted to tell our friends in the Middle East about the cautionary tale that is the Philippines. But I don’t want to be a party pooper. Let them have this euphoria, even for a moment.

How could I not feel this way when I know children somewhere in the mountains of Zambales could not go to school because of they do not have teachers? How could I not be jaded when students had to walk a whole day just to come to school? How could I not cry when I know people rushed to the provincial hospital of Samar had to buy their own cotton and their own syringe if they wanted to be treated without contracting other diseases? Or better yet they would rather risk the 2.5-hour travel to Tacloban in order for them to get decent medical attention. How could I not feel helpless when somebody dies everyday fighting the system, fighting for his right as a free citizen of this country, fighting to live?

I remember my boss telling me that maintaining news independence is an everyday struggle. You pick small battles and try to bring that to the table, day after day after day after day… You cannot stop. There is no room to be weary. The same goes for freedom and change. You have to fight for it everyday.

But I am a Filipino. I am resilient. I am patient. I have in my hands the power to change the world.

Because I am a Filipino.

I’m too emotionally exhausted at this hour to type what my friend (since elementary) have talked about. She’s the one who transferred to Singapore and is in a fucked up situation. She called me up while she’s on a cruise and told me how messed up she is. I didn’t mince words and told her, yeah, I forgot to tell you that the last time we talked.

Maybe when I can’t sleep tonight I’ll try to process and write this down.

Well hello, crisis!

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Brent oil went past USD 100 per barrel today as the Ukraine crisis intensifies. EU is basically cut off from Russian gas, which could send the price of all fossil fuels skyrocketing. Two weeks ago, I was just talking with a CEO of an LNG company who assured me that the sky-high spot market prices of LNG would later come down as more bunker ships will come online and upstream players are already ramping up their production. But then here comes Putin disrupting everything. Mind you, we are still reeling from the economic fallout caused by the pandemic.

From a selfish investor’s point of view, this is a buying opportunity.

But as a regular human being, this is a disaster. Especially since the vegetables I bought today from UP already cost PHP 1,000 in total. This is the reason why the poor cannot afford to eat vegetables. Either they choose vegetables or meat, not both in one meal because there’s no way that you can spend this much for vegetables if you’re only earning PHP 500 a day. The cost of transporting these goods are now astronomical given that we have a very inefficient agricultural supply chain and the rising cost of fuel is compounding the situation.

My veggies that cost PHP 1,000. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Electricity costs will kill us this summer ☀🌡since the Philippines is highly dependent on diesel, coal, and gas to fuel base load power plants. We have a lot of renewable energy power plants but they are volatile because they are not consistent 24/7 and the grid cannot support such volatility. It needs constant supply that only base loads can offer. And so far our base load plants are fired by dirty fuels and geothermal.

This morning I brought the feral male white cat to PAWS for his neutering. All was well and right now he’s recuperating in my neighbor’s backdoor after fetching him from PAWS at past 4 pm.

Whitey inside the cage behind the door in the isolation area of PAWS. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Some PAWS merchandise to help subsidize the needs of the animals under their care. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

And finally the expensive keyboard arrived. It’s sooooo girly and clicky. Hahahaha! Some serotonin boost for me while working. I am now transcribing a lengthy interview (over an hour) and I love typing on this thing; it’s like typing on an old-school typewriter.

Raspberry color POP keyboard and mouse from Logitech. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

The mouse is really silent but hefty. The top part is held by magnets so when you accidentally drop the mouse, it will just come open but it will not break. I read that they did this to avoid breakage when you drop it; once the clicker or wheel is damaged, the mouse is already useless. The silent mouse is kinda weird to use when playing games though because you need tactile gamepads or mouse when playing.

The keyboard is heavy, which is a characteristic of real mechanical keyboards. I can swap the keys on the right side (the weird emoji shortcuts) and program them on the Logitech app. However, I don’t think I can switch other keys, unless other manufacturers make rounded keys for the likes of Logitech. This keyboard comes with extra keycaps for the emoji buttons. I thought I won’t be using them but—well, well, the emoji keys were useful when I was talking to my colleague/friend, L, this afternoon. I think I need to buy the separate numpad of similar design on Lazada. I already have it on my cart. I need it for work since I deal with a lot of numbers, ironically.

Speaking of my colleague, L, we were talking this afternoon about some stuff that she missed while she was away in Switzerland during the first two weeks of Feb. So I filled her in on the latest brouhaha involving J and the stuff I discovered. She said, “I don’t know why we always come across this kind of guys.” She also had a bad experience with a guy we code-named Jaded. Another narcissist who gaslighted her for a long, long time. He also led her on for a couple of years.

She said she recently met someone interesting in Switzerland and she wants to see him again. However, she said she has to be realistic because they’re far apart. I said at least she was able to meet a decent guy. If you consider meetings like this a hit or miss, mostly it’s a miss. As L’s friend said, for every 100 Tinder/Bumble date, there’s only one decent guy worth seeing again.

“I think you can meet up with people while healing. Don’t set so many limits for yourself,” she told me.

“But it’s scary. There are a lot of evil men out there. After my experience with J, I no longer know who is evil like him and who isn’t,” I told her.

She conceded. “Yeah, it’s hard to tell.”

She knows that because when we were talking about J that week that he and I started going out in Singapore four years ago, we were discussing that he seemed like a decent and harmless guy. How completely wrong we were. I’m still paying the price of that wrong judgment.

“He was a bad accident that caused me my sanity. I’m still undergoing psychotherapy until August. That’s why I’m scared of meeting people because I’m not yet well. I’m not yet sleeping properly,” I told her.

I’d rather stay home and stick to my friends. There are only very few decent men out there. Especially at my age group.

I’m happy that L has found a decent guy after that episode with that horrible Jaded. She was crying to me one time after Jaded invalidated her feelings and I told her he is gaslighting her…and that she is going nowhere. That was the last straw. She quit Jaded and enrolled for a CFA review. She threw herself into reviewing and she passed level 1. She is now reviewing for level 2. She sounds quite happy now.

So assignment to myself: 1) work double-time on my healing then 2) achieve some kind of certification as I mentioned here earlier–just for the heck of it–so I have something productive to occupy me and not mope around because of a person who did not add any value to me. 3) Then be a famous writer tucked away in some little hovel at the foot of a mountain (which I will be in a year). The famous part, I will be working on it 😂😂😂. Either I work on an academic book on journalism or I publish a book under fiction. I have an anthology of short stories with me but I don’t know where to publish it since most literary magazines I know of here have already stopped printing. We don’t have a version of The New Yorker here. A decade ago or so, I was working on a YA novel but I quit. One really needs a lot of concentration, discipline, and free time to be able to produce something like that.

In the meantime, I will continue urban sketching to keep me grounded and a bit happy.

BINGO!

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One of my Twitter followers called me up on my phone and told me that there are open slots for passport renewal at DFA (because I had been asking DFA on Twitter when they would be opening slots). I quickly checked and fired up three browsers (Chrome, Firefox, and Edge) so I can try three different locations. After clicking for more than an hour (refresh, refresh, search, refresh), I finally was able to book at Robinsons Novaliches next week!

Wohoooo! Hopefully it would be painless. When Singapore finally opens up (no quarantine requirements), I can finally fly there and fix things that should be fixed. And meet my sources. And I should be using my Japan Visa soon since it would expire by next year.

One down, one more to go: Car registration. I need to secure a slot online, which I read was like another Hunger Games–similar to securing a slot at DFA.

In the meantime, I would be bringing the male white feral cat that this compound has been taking care of to PAWS for neutering. My neighbor caught him now in our kitty isolation cage so he can fast and I can easily bring him to PAWS tomorrow morning. Hope everything goes smoothly.

The Ukraine crisis is wreaking havoc on everything right now. For a 100% oil importing country like the Philippines, this would spell a rapid rise in core inflation. Supply disruptions of food and durable goods plus high transport cost would drag the purchasing power of people down. Waaaaay down. That’s why I should be judicious in driving because I haven’t seen the price of premium diesel climb this high, not even during the oil price shock of 2008 when every major corporation in the country had to revise its assumptions and earnings/growth projections. Logistics problems caused by the pandemic have yet to be untangled and here we go, we now have more geopolitical tensions to throw a monkey wrench into the economic recovery of developing countries like ours.

I have to think about this while pursuing stories and I should remind my team that this should be foremost in their minds right now.

At Starbucks. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

A quick sketch of yesterday’s work session with our Manila reporter at Starbucks in High Street. My efforts are still subpar so I need to practice some more. Since it would be a holiday on Friday, the girls and I are thinking of going to UP or probably La Mesa Dam if it won’t rain so I can practice sketching while they go biking. We can probably have a picnic.

My sister-in-law is telling me that she wants to go to the beach before the entire country descends on every available seaside in the coming weeks. I looked at Agoda for some resorts in Anilao and saw some vacant rooms in two resorts. She’s still thinking about it because she has three boys she wants to drag with her. My brother, being a lazy driver, wouldn’t come so I would be hauling them all off. I need to buy new freediving flippers and the doughnut if we would push through.

I think yesterday’s torrential rain would be the last and the hot and dry season would be coming up. I need to check the camp sites as well so we can schedule our long-delayed camping trip.

I hope no more curve balls. I’m trying my best to get out of this funk. I’m trying my best to heal well. Oh, God, I’m trying.

It’s 2:39 am and there’s this invisible hand from out of nowhere that suddenly squeezes my heart. I want to cry but I’ve run out of tears. I’m tired of this. I couldn’t hate because it still involves feelings and he’s not worthy of that. I just want to be apathetic. That’s the ultimate goal, apathy.

Out in the wild

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Back again. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I had the faulty Kullen drawer exchanged at Ikea but Kullen became sold out so I had picked the cheaper Lennart drawers and some random stuff for the kids so that the amount would be equal to the cost of the item to be exchanged. So tomorrow night I will building more drawers.

Then our Manila reporter, Kr, and I agreed to meet at Starbucks in BGC to work after her press conference. It was nice to work outside and see daylight while editing although it rained heavily. It was quite cooler today that I felt I should have brought a light sweater with me. Just when I thought that summer is already here, the weather decided that to go in another direction.

Kr and I haven’t seen each other in two years so it was quite a relief to work with a live human being across the table and talk shop face to face. I was so productive this afternoon that I was able to edit three stories in an hour. Then I sketched to while away the time.

Art and photo by CallMe Creation.com

I didn’t realize that my pocket watercolor pan (Classic) didn’t have black. The other pocket watercolor (Artisan) has that. Which is an excuse to buy me that one. Tee hee!

After BGC, I dropped off Kr in Estancia in Capitol Commons because she will meet with a friend for dinner. Then I battled my way into an almost-pre-pandemic traffic jam going to QC. I was a bit exhausted driving, maybe because I didn’t have enough sleep (as usual). I took my meds pretty late last night so it took a while for them to kick in and was able to drift off past 3 am. Got woken up again after 3 hours.

I wonder what kind of devil is waking me up every three hours?!

I told Kr I should try working outside more these days now that I discovered that my mind is more alert and productive when I’m outside. I need adult conversations too! I missed BGC and Makati CBD–my usual haunts on weekdays. I missed picking the brains of execs face-to-face. I should invite one of my sources for lunch in BGC one of these days as I still have a gift cheque for a buffet lunch for two at Shangri-la. We usually talked politics on WhatsApp and some scoops.

I missed dressing up, putting on make-up and jewelry regularly. Makes me feel empowered. As I told other reporters before, if I get rejected by execs or get thrown out of conferences, at least I’m not ugly and a failure both at the same time (LOL!).

My feet hurt though because I chose to wear a new pair of clip-cloppy shoes with heels today. Note to self: DO NOT break in new shoes when you’re going to walk around BGC or Makati.

Torture shoes from Call It Spring that I bought last Sunday. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Hmmm. Now my goal is to work once a week outside, probably Tues or Wednesday, and meet with sources before Edsa becomes a huge parking lot again. Staying indoors for 2 years really messed me up.

Building, fixing

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Twin A painting in the background while I build this shoe cabinet. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I’ve always built stuff if I have a manual for it. I didn’t have to rely on any man for manual labor if I can help it. Maybe at the back of my mind I knew I would be living alone in the foreseeable future? I don’t know. I’ve always been self-reliant.

Et voila! Neater shoe storage and better sleeping area for the cats. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

And I built one of the drawers for the girls but I need to return it tomorrow since it had a faulty hole for one of their proprietary screws.

This is Kullen. I am doubting its longevity. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

After I return this tomorrow morning at Ikea, I will just work in some coffee shop in BGC and meet with our Manila reporter since she has a presscon tomorrow at Shangri-la Fort. Face-to-face meetings are coming back, methinks.

Thus ends my working in isolation. I would have to dress up again. Yey. I kinda miss that.

As I was saying, I try building or learning to build by myself because I can’t rely on other people doing things for me. If it’s way over my head, then I will gladly pay for it like plumbing and electrical jobs. But I if I can learn it, I will always try to do it myself.

Like fixing computers. I learned how to set up a home network, from laying cables to setting up modem and routers/repeaters. Later on, I am the one being called back home to set up my mom’s internet connection and fix her laggy laptop (clean it, reinstall the OS, or add RAM, which I did the last time). My sister-in-law (my brother’s wife) calls me Ms. Butingting (tinker) because I was always tinkering with something, even if I end up destroying the one I am tinkering with. That’s how I learned. Now I can add RAM or swap an HDD to an SSD. I learned how to install or reinstall operating systems. So far I haven’t bricked some motherboard because of an attempted BIOS update (because I haven’t; too scared because an internet connection hiccup may ruin it). I learned how to dual boot my computers (Windows/Linux) and worked around UEFI setups. I learned Linux by myself.

Simple home repairs I can deal with. Workarounds and manual labor are ok with me; I don’t have to act like a damsel in distress, unlike some stupid female out there who acts like she’s dying if no guy can help her. I have little patience for women who knew nothing but open their legs and have something between them. Use your brain, girl! When it comes to car repairs, I had to learn how to deal with them. Even when I had a husband, I never relied on him to do my car repairs for me. Besides, he won’t do it for me anyway.

There’s some kind of freedom knowing how to do things on your own. I don’t have to rely on any man to do things for me. I can figure it out on my own. If can’t physically do it, then I hire somebody to do it. No big deal. I can’t be like my mom when my father died; she was so lost when it comes to home repairs and dealing with tradespeople. She was kinda helpless…she always said it was my dad who had to deal with leaky faucets and broken doors.

That’s why when I was on my own, the first thing I bought for my apartment were home improvement tools. Now I’m completing my power tools as I am about to order my jigsaw tool. Circular cutters occupy too much space.

One day I will have a shed in my garden that can be my workshop. Like this girl: