Category Archives: personal

Waiting

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Cat waiting for her two-legged sister to come back. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Last night I had been chatting with an ex-colleague for hours while we were holding a vigil for another ex-colleague who was about to expire.

Basically we waiting for the expected and praying for his eternal peace. He got severe Covid and while in the hospital, it was discovered he had terminal liver cancer. After he was off the tubes, he was allowed to go home for palliative care. Then we were told by his family that we can send him voice messages. I wrote about this a few days ago.

So last night this ex-colleague, A, and I were talking about him. We also talked about how we got so tired fighting for what we believed in, for what is right, which our sick friend and colleague, N, did all his life. He died last night while we were talking about him.

We all cared so much for an industry that did not love us back, that we were so passionate about our profession but we got burned so many times. There was so much corruption and abuse.

So it’s about time that we should start to live our lives, she said. Start preparing for retirement. She told me I was one of the few very good and clean journalists whom she wanted to stand out and do more great things but the system is so rotten that she understands why I turned my back on it. I told her I went to the extreme end; at least my niche is unapologetic about serving the corporate big machine and no pretense that this kind of journalism is the crusading kind. That it is upfront about being all about making money for our audience. That’s why I can be emotionally detached from it. Just bring my skills and produce good stories and that’s it. It was no longer about saving the world.

Every now and then I still do take up the cudgels, when the messiah syndrome comes knocking. One day I can go back to it. In another form. In some way or another.

A and I were talking about retiring into our small homes, growing our own food, living sustainably away from the city. She will go home to Mindanao while I am still figuring out where I want to go. My girls and I could end up in my hometown, or near the sea, or in Hyogo Prefecture, or outside Utrecht, or somewhere.

I’m no longer trying to reach the highest level in the ladder nor chasing accolades and titles…But I haven’t really been chasing them in the first place. I only felt pressured to do so when J came into my life because it was what he was chasing after. It was the time I questioned myself, what was I doing with my life? Why am I just stuck as a journalist when I can be doing something in the finance world?

Then when he dumped me, I began to question again what was really my core? What is my essence? What do I want to do for the rest of my life?

Peace. I want peace and contentment. I want to live a life, my life, and not chase somebody else’s dream for them.

So I am working towards that goal now. I don’t know how but I know I will get there.

Every now and then it does occur to me that I can pivot and do what my other ex-colleagues are doing now. My ex-boss in HK (also came from here, we were in the same circle when she was still here in the country) is now a managing director in an advisory firm, which I can do as well if I devote more years into this company to reach some milestones to fatten up my resume. Another friend who also came from a hardcore journalism background is now doing partnership deals for a fintech company. Which I think I can also do.

Now the question is, do I want to do it? Let’s see what the wind may bring. All I know is I want peace and to live my life. To have time to stop and smell the roses.

And write.

I am waiting.

When things are meant for me, they just fall on my lap. Let’s see what happens.

Back to sewing

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Sewing masks. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I’m back to sewing masks. I think we will soon run out of Greek letters to distinguish each SARS-COV-2 variant that keeps popping up every month. We now have Lambda, which was first detected in Peru and has now infiltrated 30 countries. So the future masks that I will finish would have a long time of service, unfortunately.

Today was a bit terrible. That interview I did at 5 pm got me triggered. The interviewee was nice and all, nothing was wrong with him and I got everything I needed for a story but at the same time he was all wrong. Very wrong.

He was same age as J, from J’s country of birth (when I thought my interviewee was from somewhere else), migrated to the same country where J migrated at a young age too. Same state and same city. He was relating his history because I asked why he built up his company in this particular segment. Then he told the same backstory of being compared to the neighbor academically, strict upbringing, going to xxx university for pre-med but dropped to go into military. Had a younger brother who went into law school but ended up in MIT. The two of them formed a company in Asia, sold it to a PE and the proceeds allowed them to run a family office investing in two sectors and then they also founded another start-up and now doing a capital growth fundraise. That’s how I ended up interviewing him.

He was so talkative that in 1.5 hrs he already related his political views and the racism he experienced growing up in the same city as J. He said stones were thrown at him when he was a kid and was often told to go home to China. He said, “I shot back and said I am not Chinese, I am xxx and I live in this country.” He said the same thing as J said, that Asians are invisible and are at the bottom rung when it comes to large ethnic groups.

Just as I was getting successful in forgetting and moving on, I suddenly slipped and fell and was back to square one. This interview triggered the memories of J telling me all those stories. Of memories of J.

Stop it. He has forgotten about you. He doesn’t like you. He lied to you about many things. He took you for an idiot. He’s a terrible person. Don’t go back into that dark pit again. Just stop.

So now I’m back to sewing while watching/listening to Youtube to take my mind off everything. I wish I can hold the fort and not crumble.

I hate being like this. How do I end this?

Good night

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Binangonan, Rizal. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

It is a heavy Monday. I was drowning in work. I again forgot to have lunch and only remembered to eat at 3 pm.

Then I said goodbye to a friend and colleague who has begun sleeping to never wake up.

How do you say goodbye to someone who is dying? What do you say? I was at a loss for words but I knew I needed to say something. His family says he still can hear as hearing is the last of the senses to go before one crosses the rainbow.

So we sent our recorded voice messages via FB Messenger or email. I told him I hope he realizes how much we love him and appreciate how he touched our lives. That I know he will continue fighting for our rights as journalists, as human beings. That he shouldn’t worry because we will carry the torch after he moves on, that we will fight his fight, that the fight will continue.

I always jokingly post on FB that I need him to keep me company trolling the trolls on Twitter.

I told him I hope he is no longer hurting and that he is happy with what he has now and what he has accomplished.

Sir, good night.

Tsundoku

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Tsundoku is acquiring reading materials but letting them pile up in one’s home without reading them

Wikipedia

For the second straight year, I haven’t been to Big Bad Wolf book sale, which is basically a huge warehouse of books marked down to 60%-70% of their normal prices. This time, though, they managed to have an online book sale until 7 July and during the first hour I was able to snag some books for my girls–boxed sets–but overall there are only a few good titles and most of the books for me got sold out in a few hours. I only managed to get one, which is a memoir by Salman Rushdie during the time he went into hiding after the fatwa on him was issued following the publication of his Satanic Verses.

I still have tons of books on my shelves that I have yet to finish. Always on the “to read” pile. Tsundoku.

My mom just messaged me on Viber that there is a growth of something where her malignant mole had been. She had surgery years ago to have that removed but now it seems like there’s an outgrowth. She went to two doctors today and she will have new sets of doctors to see on Monday.

Lord, please don’t let it be full-blown cancer. 😞 It’s a difficult disease and she’s past 70.

I need to go home soon. 🥺

So many drastic changes this past 30 days. One of my househelpers is pregnant (I’m not surprised) so she will be going home to her province on 15 Aug. Another person gone from my household. J had been urging me to send her home earlier because there’s an excess labor here at home and they’re not being maximized and I’m just wasting money. But I said I’ll just wait for her to resign on her own since it was just a matter of time that either she will get pregnant or get engaged, whichever comes first. I was right.

One of the people I had been helping for years has turned his/her back against me. For a petty reason. I guess I was not a friend at all, despite all the help I’ve been extending to this person.

Another reporter is resigning. Now I’m at my wits’ and how to bridge the gap.

Lord, give me and my mom the strength to deal with all of these.

Rain

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Time carries us away
From all the places we have come to love;
Just wishing we could stay
But maybe that’s not the point
What makes this all so god damn beautiful
Is knowing that its bound to fade in time
If you listen you can hear the wind talking to the trees
Like words of quiet angels, or so I’d like to believe
I don’t know where I am going
I don’t know where I want to be
But as long as I have a soundtrack
I’ll make it there breathing
And so it comes, the heavy rain…
The storm we’ve all been waiting for
To wet our hearts and make sense of this pain
From standing still for far too long…
(from holding out and holding on to all the things
You know will only hold you back in the end)
..like you’re just holding out for something better
To steal you from these tired days that you don’t want
What are you hoping for?
Miracles happen all the time, so where is yours?
The rain, it never lies
Writing its secrets on the window pane
You lose your focus in the subtleties of its poetic grace
There’s just something about its sadness that makes
You feel okay
Do you remember that rainy afternoon
When we cried in each other’s arms?
When we knew we’d found perfection
But somewhere deep inside
Knew it had come too soon for us to hang on
Or try to make it last
We can’t forget these moments baby
But our lives are now
Don’t lose yours in the past
Once we find ourselves I swear I’ll find you again someday
But the western wind is calling me…
I heard the angels say my name
My loner heart is aching, so I’ll be leaving soon
To start this lonesome journey
When the leaves dance for the moon

Comfort music

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This was a difficult week. I struggled with work, almost threw in the towel and quit. I am still three paragraphs into the story I was writing the entire week. There was a little writing here and there after some interviews but basically my brain was dry. I was trying to wring out some creativity from my body but I yielded nothing. Nothing. I resorted to writing on my notebook everything I needed to do per hour just to get me through the day or else I would be stuck.

Agenda for the day. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

To make me feel better, I sing after work. On Wednesday I wasted 2 hours just singing along Youtube. Whatever took my fancy. I needed to let it all out.

Tonight I fell into the rabbit hole of memories, of music I listened to growing up. Tears for Fears figured so prominently in my life in the 1980s because my brother played them constantly. The lone stereo, amplifier, and big speakers were in his room. We had to share it. I didn’t have a say in the music played then. So I drowned in New Wave music (which didn’t become as popular in the US compared to Europe), Tear for Fears, Fra Lippo Lippi, and the local band The Dawn.

We had an exercise in one of my communication courses in college where I had to be a disc jockey for an hour in our campus radio. I had to write the script, song lineup, make sure that the equipment was working before I went on air, research in our college’s music library for my spiels. I picked Tears for Fears to feature in my show. I didn’t care that it was already 1996-1997. Britney and the Spice Girls were rising. Monica and Brandy were battling it out in the airwaves. And yet here I was going retro, stepping 10 years back.

I missed their first and only concert here in Manila (because I was in Cebu at that time, baking under the sun in a lovely beach in Bantayan Island).

I am now being comforted by Roland Orzabal’s solid voice and Curt Smith’s brilliant song writing. Songs from The Big Chair and The Hurting were good albums but I think the best song they have written was Woman in Chains (about a woman’s freedom from an abusive relationship) from the album Seeds of Love.

I love concerts. When I was in high school and college I saved money to watch whatever concert I could afford. But when I started working, time was my enemy. I watched concerts when I had the time, which was in short supply especially when I had the girls.

I remember after one quarterly press conference with Meralco some years ago, Chairman Manny Pangilinan asked us reporters casually who do we want to see Smart Communications bring to the country. Without batting an eyelash I shouted, “U2! Sir, I would take a leave of absence on the day U2 will have their concert here so I can prepare!” He asked, “Really? You think many will watch?” I replied, “Sir, you have no idea about the number of people who would pay an arm and leg for their concert here. Although they are notoriously hard to book. You can entice Bono to one of your CSRs to pull his do-good strings so they will come.”

Seemed like MVP had seriously thought about it. So several years later in December 2019 it was finally happening. Sponsored by Smart. I didn’t go; I really can’t remember the specific reason why but I think it had something to do with J. I think it was because I was saving money at that time because I was supporting him so I didn’t want to spend so much on frivolous things. We were planning to go abroad together (I was scheduled to fly to HK in Feb, SG after that and SKorea in May for the ADB annual meeting) because he needed to be out of the country every 60 days. And U2 is not cheap; the most affordable seat was already equivalent to a plane ticket to Korea.

On the day of the concert, I remember it was pretty late, PLDT called and told me they had some tickets left and they were giving it to me for free. I looked at the time, it was almost 7 pm. The concert was supposed to start at 9 pm. I was tempted but it was such a risk driving late to Philippine Arena in Bulacan and friends told me there were no parking spaces left. Or no parking space to begin with.

I had to let it go. It was for the best. It was just U2. J was more important.

I skipped many concerts throughout the years. Alanis. Cranberries. Gin Blossoms. Because life happened. Because I had children and it was hard to get away during those days. Before I had the girls, I also didn’t have the time because I was putting to bed every night (even on sacred days like New Year’s eve) the business page of the newspaper I worked for. 🤷🏻‍♀️

But there were concerts that I had to watch, no matter what it took. The Eraserheads original reunion concert at BGC when there were zero skyscapers there back then. It was the time Ely Buendia collapsed backstage in between sets. Turned out his blood vessel had collapsed.

I also watched GooGoo Dolls by my lonesome. Because I had to–I waited for them for 20 years. That was the time I realized I needed to get out of my marriage because I was already watching live rock concerts by myself.

Now I spend hours watching and listening to concerts on Youtube. But of course, it can’t replace live music. One day, concerts will come back and I would be braver by that time, brave enough to watch concerts alone.