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.

Lame duck president who didn’t betray his country

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PNoy is a contraction of President Noynoy (Benigno Aquino III) which made life easier for us editors when writing headlines.

I did not vote for him. I didn’t like that he was out of touch with the masses. I was leaning towards Gilbert Teodoro (who is now showing his true ugly color)…

BUT

Maybe he was made to be insensitive (they say he is on the spectrum) so he can have the ability to tune out the criticisms without literally killing the critics. Maybe his being obstinate was good so he would not be as super butt-hurt as this demon in Malacañang now and just go about his business.

I told my colleagues before that he would earn my respect if he is able to pass the Sin Tax Law (decades-old battle vs big tobacco money) despite being a very heavy smoker himself. Because he knew the country needed it.

I’ve written about CODE NGO, pork barrel and that thingamajig which was the same as PDAF (was that DAP?) which traveled all the way to the Supreme Court, criticisms regarding the slow progress of PPPs, and other things to counterbalance the rabid yellow supporters. I muted some of them in my timeline.

His biggest sin in my book is the Corona trial because this became a precedent. Does quo warranto sound familiar to you?

BUT

He had sound economic policies that resulted in: low inflation, 6%-7% GDP growth, low interest rates, etc. I saw T-bills drop to near-zero levels when I occasionally covered Treasury auctions. He did what he needed to do. Our PPP scheme is way better than other systems I see now that I cover infra sector of other markets in SEAsia. We were the darling of investors. From junk status to investment grade. The international community respected him. He did not have the workaholic nature of GMA (who rises early to start working) but he was not corrupt. He prioritized his friends (hello Pagcor!) but his cabinet was sane.

He fought against China and was vindicated in the end. David vs Goliath.

He was “Noynoying” in office but this current president is a lot worse.

He is a lame duck president but he made things work somehow. I did not fear for my life that much when I was doing my job as a journalist. Unlike now.

Goodnight, Mr. President.

Losing your memory

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I had been writing on this blog about wanting to erase memories so it won’t hurt anymore. I wanted to do an Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and be done with it, this grief.

On the flip side, there is this immeasurable pain because of losing one’s memories. This article in Washington Post reminded me of the long goodbye that comes with Alzheimer’s disease. My maternal grandma died of it in her 70s. My aunt has it now. Her memories of who she is and where she is come and go like the tide but it is less predictable.

I remember my cousins and I had our summer vacations with my grandparents so they would have someone with them in their home, even for just a few months, since my aunt (one of the twins) living closest to them cannot watch over them 24/7 as she also had a big household to manage. We didn’t know it at that time but my grandma’s AD had already set in when she became Cruella. We thought she was just growing more cantankerous as time went on. It came to a point that she banished my cousins from the house for some small reason that triggered her temper. My cousin and my older sister packed their bags and retreated to my aunt’s house. Later that day or a day after, my grandpa went after them and asked for forgiveness from his grandchildren (!) on behalf of his wife for receiving that kind of treatment. My cousins and sister cried because they couldn’t imagine our weak, old, white-haired grandpa chasing after them and yet he did. It was the only reason they went back–out of love for my grandpa.

Anyway, that was one of the early signs of AD that we didn’t know about. Later on my grandma got worse, to the point that one of my aunts who lived in Chicago had to come home here in the Philippines to take care of them because we couldn’t handle them. This aunt built a giant crib for my grandma because she escaped the house at 2 am to wander. Prior to this aunt taking over, I remember my cousins, sisters and I had to take turns in watching over my grandma at night so she wouldn’t go out of the house while we slept. We devised some booby traps/alarms to wake us up if she did. One time she was brought home with a lot of bruises, maybe she was side-swept by a car or she fell while walking in the darkness because she wanted to go to church at 4 am. There were also shouting matches, but mostly it was her shouting at us angrily. She thought we were some of her enemies from way back when she was young. She no longer had an idea of the time and space she occupied. She was no longer in our reality. She was already transported to the 1930s or 1940s. She was digging up her grudges, throwing at us her axes she had ground for so many years.

She also developed Parkinsons so taking care of her was harder. She was reduced to becoming a baby again, with stuffed toys around her, wetting her bed that we had to put diapers on her, and spent her days staring at the ceiling. Her mind was locked away somewhere we could no longer reach.

And my grandpa, who had loved her “up to the high heavens” as he told us, watched helplessly as the love of his life slowly slipped away and descended into a vortex of memories that were being sucked down into hell. It was a long goodbye for him. One time, because my grandma’s motor skills have gone downhill, she slipped and my grandpa sacrificed himself by catching her to break her fall with his body. He was in his 80s. He broke his hip bones and had to undergo surgery.

My grandma, who raised 13 children and worked for the family as a tradeswoman, was reduced to being like a doll staring at the ceiling at the end of her days. She had no emotions, no understanding of what was happening, no recollection of who she is, no idea of love and happiness. She was like a blank canvas.

It was a long goodbye. You helplessly watch somebody slip away. For someone who is losing her memories, her mental faculties, it’s a long slow death. It’s a snail’s pace to nothingness.

So would I want that for myself? As somebody who wanted to rid herself of memories so that it won’t hurt anymore, I don’t want to descend into that same path my grandma, my maternal aunt, and paternal uncle had gone. I am taking back what I said a few months ago about erasing memories. It’s the memories who make us what we are now. Those memories have broken us and built us to who we are today. And without those, who are we then? Am I still me if I can’t remember my name? Is it still worth living if I no longer know what love and pain are? If I don’t have any memory of being happy and sad? It’s like in the Pixar movie Inside Out, what are we without those marbles of memories? Who are we?

So just like that, I would just have to endure the pain, the hollowness, until I become bigger so the ball of grief inside me would no longer hit my walls frequently. It’s better to have those memories of having loved people who didn’t love me back than not remembering anything, of not having any memories of those in my life. Metaphorically, it’s just like what happened to my grandma, who ended up just staring at the ceiling and had no idea of what is it to be alive.

When the world shut down

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This book/TV series by DC Comics and Warner Bros is about an apocalyptic world, shut down by a virus that caused the Sick. Remember, this story was published in 2018 but the scenes are very 2020/2021. When the world shut down, chaos reigned, it was every man for himself.

The main protagonist, Gus, is a hybrid human-animal. His kind started appearing alongside the virus that has killed millions worldwide. They still don’t know what it is and how to cure it. But somehow they thought killing and harvesting the organs and bone marrow of these hybrids would lead to a cure.

Mind you, these hybrids were children of humans who had just the bad luck of being born during the pandemic that has lasted for 10 yrs. They were born from human parents. Dissected for cure. Get that. So Gus and his kind were hunted down.

So anyway, the scenes played in the series would have been preposterous pre-COVID-19. But having endured the pandemic chaos here, yeah, I can say everything is possible as the scenes played in the DC Comic/TV Series are all too familiar to us. ✅ The world is run by military guys/militia of some sort who think the way forward is ham-fisted rule, killing at will, and no care for the little people. And pretend they know what they’re doing. (Oh lord, sounds like the Philippines). ✅ People suspected of being infected by the virus were shunned, vilified, or worse, sent to summary execution (sounds like the early days of COVID-19 pandemic here) ✅ food and durable goods scarcity ✅ the privileged live like the world hasn’t changed and deluding themselves that they can keep the world from changing ✅ everyone has lost loved ones either from violence or the disease ✅ flora and fauna flourished in the absence of humans who hunkered down as they quarantined. For years. ✅ As humanity rode waves upon waves of the virus attack. (oh yeah, we’re now just emerging from a long lockdown due to COVID-19 Alpha strain. And it seems like the vaccines in Indonesia aren’t working that well on the Delta strain that has brought India to its knees so God help us if Delta starts to overwhelm us here).

But in the utter darkness of the world, there is still some goodness left. In Gus’ pandemic, goodness is in the form of Jepp, the ex-American football star who became an unwilling protector of this hybrid. Alongside is Becky, a.k.a. Bear, whose family died of the virus and the only family left was a hybrid who was taken away by the militia known as the Last Men. In our current situation, the goodness comes in the form of… common people like us who come to the rescue of those who are less fortunate. Those who had been unselfish. Those who had been giving whatever they could for those who are hungry and dying. In the Philippines, it can be seen in the rise of the community pantries to feed those who did not have safety nets.

After bingeing on 8 episodes of Season 1, I come to the conclusion that: 1) It’s really handy to know how to drive a manual transmission vehicle. I have always known this, that’s why my family insisted on driving manual cars. Because living in the Philippines is like surviving the apocalypse where every disaster imaginable occurs regularly. 2) DIY skills should be in everybody’s priority of things to be acquired during a pandemic. 3) We should rough it out more so we can survive in some isolated forest in case we need to keep ourselves from being attacked by zombies or bad humans. 4) Learn how to survive with less luxuries 5) Grow our own food. 6) It sucks to live in a condo so better invest in a little cottage somewhere you can survive a pandemic. 7) Preppers are right all along. They’re not crazy.

I am working on these things now because we’re still dealing with Alpha and Beta strains of COVID-19. The Department of Health said that Delta is already here but it hasn’t overwhelmed us yet like it does India. The rest of Southeast Asia is still on a lockdown as they battle it through another wave of the virus resurgence. As long as we haven’t found the right vaccine to overcome COVID-19, we will continue to suffer from these waves.

The world according to my cats

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When I’m in my room, they meow to death and they let themselves in to be with mommy. How? I was able to video it recently.

My girls have this bad habit of not closing my bedroom door properly. J called them longtail because of this. So anyway, my cats take advantage of this and are able to push their paws/body against the door to open it.

My househelp told me that when I’m away, my cats wait for me by the window near the front door of the apartment. Sometimes majority of the day they wait for me there. And when I come home, they meow like crazy like I haven’t fed them for a week. Or scolding me for being away too long.

It’s cute. They’re like obnoxious dogs.

I am the only world that they have known. Except maybe for the short time they were with their birth mom cat and that traumatic time in the storm drain. This knowledge keeps me from being away for too long.

I wonder if I can bring them with me when we go camping 🤔

I plan to camp again in Mt. Purro Nature Reserve high up in Sierra Madre that is still part of Antipolo. J and I went there once with the girls to swim. There are cottages but there’s a camping site there and we can hike and go river trekking.

No, can not bring cats.

I miss coffee shops

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Ergonomically, they’re terrible workplaces. It’s hard to concentrate on work there. It’s annoying to have calls there, especially video calls.

But I miss working in those coffee shops. I need to get away from my room. I need to work away from these four walls. I am going nuts here. I will be confined to my 14″ laptop screen but that’s ok.

However, it’s still not safe until my children get vaccinated. What if I bring home the coronavirus? I may be asymptomatic since I already have the vax but I may carry it to infect my largely unvaccinated household.

Now here’s a different kind of missing. This essay by this NYTimes Madrid bureau chief has left me in a turmoil of emotions. I could feel his pain, you know, the kind of pain that hits your stomach when you haven’t eaten for a day or two. The hollowness makes the pain reverberate throughout your entire being. And for the writer, he has been trying to fill that void so it won’t hurt.

Then there’s his mom. Oh the pain of being stranded. I just realized that you can be left stranded all your life and keep waiting for that person who left you stranded to come back and rescue you with whatever boat that he has. But then you know within the deep recesses of your heart he will not come back. And you remain in that same spot for decades. That’s his mom. Tragic.

Why do people believe in fairy tales woven by the people we chose to love? Why do we hold on to flimsy memories when reality has already slapped you in the face that you were taken for a ride? Then we find ourselves standing on the same ground that we should have left long ago.

Why?