Lack of empathy

Let me tell you about people’s disconnect from the realities of this world. Their bubble and the lack of resistance in life made them what they are… They lack empathy. I’ve met humans like that and I honestly wish I won’t come into contact with them ever again.

Follow this thread on Twitter, it’s interesting and it hurts.

No, this is not only about UPenn. This is everywhere. I remember having to hear such similar litany regularly before. And I wondered why this person even bothered talking to me or being with me at that moment. This person couldn’t believe that there are people who could not afford to pay the full amount for a bottle of shampoo so poor families resort to buying sachets of shampoo because that’s all they could afford for the day. Because they had to make 500 pesos or 350 pesos fit for everyone in their family for a day. Everyday. 365 days a year.

This type of person couldn’t understand the sachet economy that is the Philippines. That not everybody can afford to buy their daily needs from supermarkets and had to rely on sari-sari stores for their groceries–despite the fact that they pay 1.5 or even 2x the retail price–because the sari-sari stores can sell them goods on credit.

And this person just thinks the poor are just numbskulls that’s why they stay poor. This person does not understand that when you’re at the lower level of the pyramid, it’s hard to climb, even if poor people work 18 hours a day. There are just too many hurdles strewn around those at the poverty line compared to people like me who lead a relatively comfortable life. I’m not even rich. I drive a crappy car, I don’t own a house. I don’t have financial security.

And yet these people will be the ones running companies, making public policies, make big and small decisions that can add or lessen the obstacles for the poor. The lack of empathy among this kind of people is disturbing.


Because I’m not in a good mood today, I slept almost the entire day. And then fixed my container garden.

New location. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
New location. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I relocated my plants because placing them under the huge mango tree was a big mistake. They were shaded, fell victim to caterpillars, aphids, and other pests, neighborhood cats kept digging the soil, and the overall vibe was bad. So a lot of my plants died and these are the hardier ones. The roses lost many leaves and the flowering became dormant.

Now I’ve put white stones so the outdoor cats wouldn’t dig again. I bought flowering fertilizers to revive the roses. My sunflower was completely lost to caterpillars. The periwinkle died of root rot or some fungal infection. The mums and the daisies stopped flowering maybe because the location was not optimal.

I had to redo everything.

This is my goal:

She just completely transformed her condo balcony into a country-style garden.

More or less we have the same size to work with. She has more patience and time than I do though.

Messed up

My body is still battling with this weird internal clock of mine. I had trouble sleeping last night that at 6 am today I was still awake. I decided to go downstairs and tackle long-forgotten chores. I stored our Christmas decor in that closet under the stairs but I had to take out a lot of crap before I can shove it in. The crap got brought outside our gate for the dumpster divers. Then I cooked rice and steamed mantou before finally I was tired enough to fall asleep at past 7 am.

Woke up at 10 and cooked lunch.

Photo by CallMeCreation.com

After lunch I slept again until almost 5 pm.

I feel like a vampire. I don’t know if this is long-Covid, withdrawal symptoms from my alprazolam that my shrink is weaning me off from, or anxiety because of my blog entry yesterday. My body is so messed up right now.

Because I am basically a zombie today, I decided not to cook dinner. I ordered pizza from Yellow Cab.

Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Good thing I was too sleepy or else I would have gone to SM Marikina and would have shopped. I already see a pattern here. Whenever I get upset, I wanted to shop for crap. Some kind of serotonin boost, to make me feel better about myself. Because I was feeling sorry for myself yesterday, remembering how loathed I was/am.

The thing here is I shouldn’t be seeking sources of serotonin boosters because I have another medication for that (escitalopram) that balances this out.

Staying cooped up really makes things worse.

It’s a wonder that one person/trauma can really affect one’s life, no? It’s so fucked up that I want to scold myself for being so weak like that. It’s so unfair too. What did I do to deserve this?

Ok stop it. I need to get out more tomorrow.

Inequities

Photo of an 80-year-old man named Narding Floro who was arrested after he allegedly stole mangoes from his neighbor. (PIO Asingan via The STAR)

Here they arrest a grandpa for allegedly stealing mangoes that he thought was still within their property.

The elderly man identified as Narding “Lolo Narding” Floro told the authorities that he only picked the mangoes because he thought it was part of their property, according to the report of the public information office of Asingan town in Pangasinan.

InterAksyon/Philippine Star

And yet they have to arrest any of the Marcoses who were convicted of various crimes to humanity. I want to give up on this country and leave but I couldn’t. There are those like this grandpa that needed to be heard.

I just received a Twitter direct message from a professor seeking my help (and other journalists in Southeast Asia) seeking publicity because Thailand (or government-linked entities in Thailand) had doxxed and hacked into all his family’s devices because his university did not like where his research was going. Even now that he is no longer in Thailand, his devices and all his electronic footprints were still being monitored and hacked. He claims expats and Bangkok-based journalists will not speak out (“they are obviously protecting lifestyle” he says) on his behalf.

This just highlights people’s need for their voices to be heard through journalists. This guy even went out to seek journalists outside Thailand, a country that isn’t really known to have a free press, being under military rule for so many years.

Even though I cover a different beat, my reputation as a journalist gives me credence to whatever issue I can raise or whatever I write–when I am fighting for the truth and against the injustices experienced by my countrymen. I can easily shift to covering such things when I’m no longer tied. Or whatever.

I don’t know what I’m trying to drive at…

What I’m trying to say is, I want to stay here in this fucked up country. Because of the reason above.

So I think I would have to be ready to give up the promotion if they force me to transfer to Singapore.

I also cannot really raise two children alone without my support system. Simple children’s illnesses will become domestic and professional disasters because I will be by my lonesome. And my company insurance doesn’t cover family. Foreigners in Singapore have to fork out huge sums if not insured because they’re not covered by the national insurance system of Singapore. A single visit to the clinic can set you back SGD 100 (my colleague said) and my kids are asthmatic, so it may have to cost more than that.

I’m on tenterhooks right now. I’m still waiting for that Call. It’s keeping me from moving forward with my personal plans.

Coffee conversations

I miss having coffee conversations. After an event/coverage, my journo friends and I usually work in some coffee shop in Makati or Ortigas. In-between typing our stories are conversations that can be mundane or these can be mature talks about life.

It has been a long time since I’ve had that. I miss it.

Everybody’s sick right now. Friends are posting their Covid-positive results on FB or are counting the days they would be out of quarantine. So it’s very scary to venture out right now. After my bout with Covid last year… Nope. I can’t even go out to the neighborhood Bo’s Coffee to change scenery to write. I’ve had another excruciating afternoon polishing a story I did with our new hire. I think I need better mental stimulation other than reading news.

I think I’ll cheer myself up by buying flowers tomorrow and set up a working space outside our front door so I won’t be too cooped up. I’ve been having conversations with my cats lately 🤦🏻‍♀️

Labor

Writing a longish article today was super laborious that it felt like giving birth. I wanted to crack my head on the table just to get things going.

And I have three more articles to go. Why I’m in a rut like this again?! 🤦🏻‍♀️

I need to go out.

Where will I go? Yesterday we logged 37k new cases. People around my apartment are coughing. My other neighbors caught the omicron bug.

I need to drive tomorrow. Writer’s block again.

Earlier tonight I was able to open my Shutterfly account, which is a repository of all my digital photos in the early 2000s. And I saw these:

My sister just called him Baby so the name stuck. He was our cat who stayed with my dad in his room when he died in his sleep. He didn’t leave my dad until my brother came. He was such a beautiful cat. A week after my dad was cremated, this cat just ran away.

He reminds me of my fat cat, Kimchi, who currently has an infection on her right eye (see the pink rims?). It’s such a labor of love catching her and restraining her so that we can give her eye drops at least twice a day. She’s such a grumpy cat.