Well, I was able to lie on my back on one of the benches before the guards came to shoo us away. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Something is really wrong with my sleeping pattern. So on weekdays it’s rare that I get to sleep before 12 am. But during the weekend my body compensates by making me sleep almost the entire day for two days. I wasn’t able to do anything. Sleep deficit really sabotages my plans for the weekend.
I really must instill good sleeping habits for myself or else I will crash. The problem is my mind is very active at night; it simply refuses to lie low.
Anyway, because I promised my girls we will be biking today, I pulled my butt out of my bed despite the protests staged by every cell of my body. We went out at 4:20 pm… Which was still hot.
I finally was able to convince Twin A to bike with us. Photo by CallMeCreation.com It’s just us. Photo by CallMeCreation.com We later proceeded to Enriquez vegetable shop. Those in my bags are veggies and fruits good for 3-4 days. After which I need to shop again. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
And as I promised Twin I, we would be grilling steak tonight. To celebrate what? I don’t know. Our family. The three of us and the cats. I just regret that I cannot provide them with a good male role model whom they can look up to.
I used the Korean portable stove because it was very late and we’re starving. Photo by CallMeCreation.com Well, not bad. There’s less smokiness though, compared to using charcoal.Photo by CallMeCreation.com
I was forced to use the portable stove because we got home at past 6:30 pm and I no longer had the strength to start a fire and grill using charcoal. It turned out fine but the smokiness is less as expected but this is much faster.
I think I will add this to my Lazada cart by next week or so. I almost ruined the burner of the current one I’m using. Good thing after cleaning and much cajoling on my part, the Korean burner finally worked. But I won’t tempt fate again so I’ll use a proper gas-fired griller. I can also bring this when we go camping.
They have already multiplied, as of the latest story I read. Soon we will be overwhelmed again by Delta and God knows how long the lockdowns will be again. Indonesia and Thailand are overrun now by this variant. Our inoculation rate is low and we have run out of vaccines here in Metro Manila.
I’m tired.
Saturday bento. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
I only got out of my room to make bento. Then I slept the day away. I think I’m sick or hormones are out of whack again (hello premenstrual syndrome!) and I’m aching all over. I promised the girls we would be riding our bikes in an hour but I’m sooooo 🤒
Kimchi lying on top my laptop. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
My cats are driving me nuts. They meow like they’re dying if they get shut out of my room. Then they do the zoomies around my small room while I try to sleep. They follow me to the bathroom. They sit or lay on my table when I work. Or underneath my table. On my chair. On my chair’s headrest while I work.
I should buy cat leashes so we can take them for walks so that they can expend more energy instead of zooming all over the apartment.
Today marks the 7th month since I died. Or the old me died.
It is hard.
Climbing out of that dark pit of grief, anger, and self-pity is soul-crushing during a pandemic. You are left with your thoughts for days on end. You can’t see you friends or distract yourself by traveling or just going about your normal business such as working at Makati CBD.
Oh they said, “You’re still young, you can find someone else.”
The thing is I don’t think I can trust someone again. I don’t think I can go all through that pain again.
I have children, you see. No one would love and accept them except for me, as proven by this experience. I don’t want them to experience the kind of rejection that I experienced from J. I didn’t tell them that J didn’t like them that’s why he left, among other issues. He left when they were in my hometown with my mom. When they came back, Tito J was already gone. No goodbye whatsoever. He left like a thief in the night, like a typhoon that passed us by.
Those 7 months were hard. As I said here before, those were the hardest months I had since my dad died. I tried my darned best to keep my head above water because I had two human beings depending on me for survival so I had to survive too. I needed to save myself before I could save others.
I’m better now. I’m a bit proud of myself for not making an ass of myself infront of him during my darkest hours. Of not asking him to change his mind and come back. Of groveling at his feet.
But the grief is there, it never goes away. I just have to be a bigger person so that ball of grief won’t hit my inner walls that often.
Seven months. Back then I didn’t even know how I would survive the month. My only goal then was to survive the day. Take it one day at a time. I couldn’t picture myself in seven months but here I am, frayed but still intact. Still finding my way out, trying to find myself. Still figuring out what’s the best way forward.
But maybe this is the way forward. I don’t know. I mean, I have a general idea of what I want but the details are not clear. I had been with my current company for seven years, the longest I had been with any employer. I am feeling the seven-year itch but I’m not sure if this is the best time to jump given the difficult economic circumstances. But my doors are open and I’m already looking around. If the right opportunity and timing is right, it will land on my lap. As God has always done.
My father would have been spending his final days drinking all these concerts. He would have been watching the lost clips of The Beatles, Everly Brothers and Simon and Garfunkel. He would have been discovering NPR Tiny Desk Concerts. He would be watching Sting’s versatility with the guitars and listening to his voice that doesn’t seem to age.
He would have been watching with me live concerts that were inaccessible to us before Youtube came along. Youtube was founded a few months before he died in 2005. Internet speed then was barely 512kbps; the videos would have been forever buffering. That would have pissed him off.
Our love for music came from my father. People always told me that he went around town with a guitar strapped to him. He was part of a “combo”, or in today’s language, a band. One of the reasons why my mother went nuts over him. When we were growing up, we were always surrounded by music. I remember he and my brother made some huge DIY wooden speakers (which looked like the cahon (beatbox used in acoustic performances). They put together our sound system that involved amplifiers, microphones, and cords. Meters and meters of cords. Tape decks. He justified the expense by saying that I kept on joining singing contests that’s why we needed those (LOL!).
One time when we were in high school, at the height of alt-pop rock and grunge, my younger sister learned the guitar. She asked if she could have one. That afternoon my father came home with a guitar on his back. He just needed an excuse to buy himself a new guitar because he smashed the last one we had. All first three children had piano lessons but I was the only one who stuck with it for a couple of years. We three girls played in a rondalla (originally from medieval Spain) in elementary school. My younger sister and I played the 14-string bandurria while my older sister played the guitar. I can also play the 12-string octavina. Playing those were brutal on my fingers that I had very thick callouses for years. Tuning these things every time we played was a pain. 14 strings! And almost every other week the number “0” string would snap and I often had to go to the store and stock up. Because of that I learned to string these instruments. I can string a guitar! I also learned how to tune strings by ear without those electronic devices that most people use nowadays.
So when my girls picked up the ukelele, it was easy for me to learn it (in just one night) and I know how tune it (hello Youtube!).
I was always at the piano when I still lived there. My neighbors suffered whenever I learned a piece by oido (Spanish for “by ear”) because I would repeat and repeat the song until I got it right. I have little patience for learning a song by reading notes because published transcriptions came too late and I wanted to learn the latest song that caught my ear as soon as possible. Learning the power chords was invaluable. I have yet to master the diminished and augmented chords but I no longer have the time and patience.
When I left my parents’ home, I lost my access to a piano. It was only in 2016-ish i was able to buy myself a Roland keyboard as I promised myself I would. Now my problem is timing because I have neighbors and I have to be conscious of their working/waking hours…
I wish Youtube existed then for my father. He would have been like me now, drowning in concerts.
We weren’t able to ride our bikes yesterday because it rained hard but we were back on the saddle this late afternoon because I was already unproductive.
Lonely bench. Photo by CallMeCreation.comStray cats around Vinsons Hall. Photo by CallMeCreation.comOrdering macha and milktea near Bahay ng Alumni. Photo by CallMeCreation.comWe stopped by the Carillon Tower to drink our tea before riding back home. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
I won’t be able to bike tomorrow since I would be doing some grocery shopping. My freezer is already empty.
Rode our bikes again today but this time we went straight to UP and we stopped for a bit at the academic oval to listen to the birds whistling, chirping, calling to each other. People are still not allowed here but we bikers could, only for a bit, when we pass by School of Economics and College of Educ and turn right at Asian Center to go to the old Shopping Center and then to the old tennis court.
It was so eerie and yet beautiful. The absence of humans is unnerving but mesmerizing.
After a sip of water from our bottles, my daughter and I went straight to buy our veggies at the old tennis court. Because we are running low on veggies. I can’t seem to stock up on a lot of it that would last us a week because I have a small refrigerator. And since I was able to fix the clogged tubes in my fridge, it is now perfectly working and really cold, hence, I no longer have an excuse to buy me the Hitachi or Panasonic fridge. So I must shop frequently for veggies.
I have another bag of veggies at my pannier rack at the back. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Hmm I wonder if I can fit a tent, sleeping bag, and pannier for food and camping stove on my pannier rack 🤔 Then cooking utensils in my bag at the handlebars. 🤔🤔🤔 Minimal clothes and toiletries on my backpack.
The question is, can I bike to my camping destination? 😂
National Science Complex. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
I was writing this piece that has been in writing purgatory for weeks… and glanced at the watch above my speaker that said it was already 4:00 pm but I still haven’t had lunch.
Then daughter asked if we could go biking. I glanced at my flabby tummy and as much as I want to lie down and rest my exploding head, I acquiesced that I needed the exercise.
By past 5 pm we were already on our saddles. We first cycled our way through almost all the streets in our village. By 6 pm-ish (I think), we biked our way into UP through one of the side gates and went to the National Science Complex.
Taking a water break. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
I missed this place. There’s still this twitch inside my gut, somewhere deep down, as this place holds bittersweet memories. But I’m better now, I think. For now. When we stopped by the benches, I took in the view and I felt… I don’t know, probably a mix of nostalgia and wistfulness. There’s a perfect word that embodies those feelings but it escapes me now.
I’ve come to love this place since it’s secluded and peaceful. And it’s where we found our kitties.
Free to run. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
There was also a family there with little kids with their bikes but that was it. We had the place to ourselves. I laid on one of the concrete benches there and stared at the sky that was already turning orange grey. I listened to the chirping birds flitting from one branch to another. Then the cicadas took over, signalling to us that we should be heading back home.
We had a good exercise; we got home at 7 pm. ✅ calories burned ✅ fresh air ✅ a way to get out of the house without having to be near another human being.
We’re going back there on weekend and we may bring snacks and we’ll see if we can lay down on the grass or the benches and stare up at the clear sky.
A friend from way, way back was seeking my professional advice (via Zoom) how she could jumpstart her business development work for an advisory firm in Singapore since my job runs alongside hers. I am very familiar with her line of work even though she is in the legal sector. I gave her the step by step how she should do the three prongs under her departments. (Maybe I should do this for a living 🤔)
Long story short, she told me she was getting a lot of resistance from her subordinates, like they don’t believe in her. She had to assert herself to her subordinates and told that she is a lawyer, a CPA, and and MBA holder who graduated from one of Singapore’s top schools and that she has every right to be in that firm.
I told her the ugly truth: Singaporeans look down on Filipinos and they think you should not have been in your position. Then I saw in her face that it finally dawned on her what that was all about. Like it finally made sense to her why she is receiving this kind of hostility from rank and file staff. They only view us as maids and office cleaning ladies. I get that all the time, I told her. And if I tell them I am Filipino, they would insist I must be part Chinese. An ex-colleague in Hong Kong said the same. Then a Singaporean challenged me, my editing, my English… I just let it go. She didn’t last because she couldn’t cope.
So I told my friend that is the reason why I always had to assert myself, that I am as good, if not better, than others. Most Filipinos in our big company (there were only a handful of us) are not just rank and file; in fact we hold key positions. The head for Asia Pacific (before she left last year) was Filipino and we were contemporaries when we were still with local media. We almost had the same background. We are not mediocre. And when an editor from far away accused me of plagiarism because she could not believe an Asian, much less a Filipino, could write very well in English–and a technical finance article at that–I pushed back. I didn’t back down and gave a good fight. It reached headquarters and in the end she had to apologize to me.
As I wrote here before, J did not understand the hierarchy even among Southeast Asians. That we are the wrong kind of Asians so we always get the shorter end of the stick. I told J before that he won’t feel it because he is the “right” kind of Asian.
So I told this friend that she has to brace herself (she’s new in SG and her entire year she was at the university where the environment is more forgiving) because she will get a lot of that treatment so she has to fight her way through.
I guess I also have to fight my way through all the time.