Tag Archives: hugot

Queen of procrastination

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Kimchi occupying the best seat in the house. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I don’t understand myself; the entire day I was just procrastinating and I couldn’t push myself to write the trend/analysis piece due this week. I spent almost the entire day reading the Alexander McQueen/John Galliano biographies (still not done with the book) and the reviews of Prince Harry’s tell-all book, Spare (<<< it is so talked about that even The Economist weighed in, that’s why I started reading about it).

It was only at 8:30 pm did I begin finishing the trend/analysis piece. By 10:30 pm I was done.

Writers do have strange writing hours. I’m not one to write during the early hours. However, there are some writers who are so disciplined that they can block time for writing (like JK Rowling). When I was still in the faster news cycle phase (during my newspaper and online news/TV network days), I could sit down and write in a snap. Not so much nowadays. Age? Or maybe because I have a slower news cycle; the things I write are no longer the by-the-hour kind of stories.

I’ve had some wins today. My APAC boss agreed with my 8-point action plan for staffing and salary review. FINALLY, there will be a salary review and we would have raises. It was a gutsy move on my part and I was in danger of alienating my bosses. Internship for undergrads has not been successful at the parent company-level so I may have an uphill battle regarding this item. I have to check out the hiring process for graduating communication students in SG, among other things.

As for the jarring events of today, the diesel engine calibration center where I brought my car yesterday called me. I have to fork out PHP 50k for the overhaul of my engine (after having a calibration two years ago, in January 2021). I brought my car to Ishimoto (which is advertised as a specialist in Japanese diesel engines), thinking that they would do a thorough job. As far as I know Isuzu’s diesel pumps are made by Bosch, so might as well go to the brand specialist. I thought of having my car’s diesel engine re-calibrated because its exhaust has become black again and I don’t want to flunk my emission test prior to registering my car with the Land Transportation Office.

Along A. Bonifacio Drive in QC, near Balintawak. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

But there you go, I will be 50k poorer. It was like being punched in the stomach since I’m still periodically writing checks to my contractor. I am scheduled to issue another check this month šŸ„“

Hopefully, the next re-calibration will be done after five years, not two years. Initial reason given to me by the secretary is that usually engines like mine are overhauled when these get fed with contaminated diesel. I told her, it’s annoying because I only load it with the higher end diesel like the Petron Turbo or Shell V-Power Diesel after the 2021 calibration (even during the height of the diesel price spikes). šŸ˜¤

I would get the full picture once I claim my car on Friday when I talk to the engine mechanic.

For some reason that I haven’t asked yet, a friend sent me this hugot this morning:

I told her, it was a hard lesson I learned in the past two years. This is why I learned to love myself more. To listen to myself more, and never second-guess myself anymore. I told her, this is why I adopted the things written in this card below:

There is something fundamentally wrong with how media and literature portray love. Like making yourself into a doormat will give you happiness, bring you to happily ever after. Like there is something noble about continuously fighting for love when that person will never love you back, when he didn’t in the first place.

Wrong. There are things that you just have to give up on and this above is one of those.

To regain my self-confidence and reinforce this self-love, I am reminding myself this quote everyday:

I am more than what he thought I was. I am worth more than what I thought I was worth. I may be lacking in some departments but that shouldn’t diminish who I am and what I offer. Too bad, he didn’t see that before because I can be more as I mature and learn.

To the person who I will meet in the future, I will be a rose that will bloom if I am loved for the sum of my parts, no ifs and buts. I will be the sun to his clouds; I will be rain to his desert. I will be the brightest star in his darkest nights, the moonlight that will lead him back home.

I will be his home.

Some day.

But not yet today.

Bag hag

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Whenever Iā€™m here in Singapore, I attend church at Every Nation (the international chapter of Victory in PH where I used to go) at Vivo City (Golden Village). Yes, the movie theater. Because that place can accommodate a lot of people. This morning was the first time I attended church in 5 years and it was overwhelming that I couldnā€™t help tearing up during praise and worship. I had my head bowed at that time since I had been wiping my face with my handkerchief.

I stayed away for too long. My anger at the pastors at Victory was so great that I let it get in the way of my spiritual growth. It was their misogyny that pushed me down and caused me to turn my back on God. They let Filipino machismo talk instead of counseling me according to the Word; it pounded me down to the ground. It was my fault, they said, that my marriage fell apart. I should have soothed the ex-husbandā€™s ego because Iā€™m a high profile media person. Basically, what theyā€™re saying is that I should make myself small for somebody who doesnā€™t want to grow up.

Iā€™m still trying to reconcile this hurt and anger with church-going. I donā€™t think I can go back to Victory either in Katipunan or LB. They did a lot of damage to me. Because of them, I always thought that I was in the wrong; I was evil and that I was going to break the family apart.

The answer and healing came through science. The real answer was that the ex-husband has narcissistic personality disorder. Disorderā€”-my shrink told me a disorder is incurable, but it can be managed. As an empath, I will literally die if I continued to live with someone with NPD. As I was telling my friend L last night, he sucked the life out of me for almost 20 years. Narcs use the energy of empaths to feed their need for dominance and extreme ego, just like vampires. Or the Nazgul in LoTR or the dementors in Harry Potter. They chase away all the joy that is left in your heart.

So L told me she understands why there is this incurable need for me to be alone and shun connections and people. I told her, I never had enough headspace for myself. I couldnā€™t even hear myself for 20 years. As an empath, all my energy was sucked out by people who surrounded me: the narc of an ex-husband and the equally self-centered ex-partner J who only wanted to receive but didnā€™t give.

I told L that I needed to live inside myself for a while. This introversion is my form of healing; a time to listen to myself because it has always been other peopleā€™s welfare and happiness that I worked on. I dismissed myself.

On a related note, because of this living inward and discovering myself/self-love, I treated myself to a shopping spree at Vivo City.

Bags! Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Guess? was 50% off at Tangs and the standalone Desigual shop at Vivo City was having a 50% off as well. I checked Zalora PH for the current prices back home and that decided my fate. I shopped. Then I bought the girls some cute lunch bags that can fit their thermos and new lunch boxes.

Iā€™m such a bag hag. Iā€™ve known that for quite some time now.

So the bags I brought with me go now inside the luggageā€¦

I applied body lotion on the leather straps and body (for the Hush Puppies handbag) before putting them inside their dust bags. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

My Michael Kors bag is older than my daughters. Itā€™s already showing its age (the lower part is getting rubbed against my clothes) and the friction is causing some blemish to the fabric. I should also be careful with the frequency of having this dry cleaned because the chemicals are harsh on fabric. I couldnā€™t use this regularly in Manila because this tote bag doesnā€™t have a zipper: all my stuff inside would be very accessible to shifty hands. It costs more than the salary of some editors I know so I always store it in its silken dust bag with lots and lots of desiccants inside to absorb moisture.

I also learned from Buddy Tan (the owner of Blackwing Shoes) that I should apply body lotion on leather bags and straps because they will start cracking, like our own skin, when itā€™s not moiturized. He said his mother-in-law had her housemaid apply body lotion and massage the bags regularly to keep them in tiptop shape. He told me I should avoid the leather conditioners and oils (like mink) sold commercially because these make the leather ultra moist that could also contribute to the weakening of the leather itself if not used correctly. He said use them sparingly and I would be better off with my body lotions. ā€œIf itā€™s good enough for your skin, then itā€™s good for your bagsā€™ skins too,ā€ he said.

Iā€™m tempted to go back to Tangs, probably in Orchard, to check out other stylesā€¦No, I should leave myself some room for shoes, which I prefer to buy back home. From the local shoemakers in Marikina.

Ah, the bag hag strikes again.

And to think I still have two Kate Spades inside my closet that I rarely useā€¦

Alone

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Todayā€™s gut-wrenching punch was brought to me by Instagram.

I always thought that if I were an Indian woman and thin, he would have been much nicer to me and valued me more. He loves India and his nurse friend in Singapore told me he dated an Indian woman before me and that J is fond of Indian women. I remember an Indian man who J and I chatted with when we were about to try his newly opened food kiosk and he said he thought I had come from Northern India and he said I looked like one of them (it must be my black eyeliner). Then I turned to J and gave him a look that said, ā€œOhhhh now it makes more sense now!ā€ He just gave me back a sheepish look, like he couldnā€™t explain himself. So adding up all the things I have been ruminating over the past months, I conclude that I have the wrong nationality and live in the wrong country. In short, I never had a chance so I shouldnā€™t have held any illusions. It could have saved me a lot of heartache. šŸ¤¦šŸ»ā€ā™€ļø

As I said, I was just a space-filler.

So yeah, better to be alone than to forever question why was I not being valued when I had put this person above anything else. I must put into writing on my wall that I donā€™t need anybody to make me feel I have value. I need to convince myself over and over. What happened didnā€™t help my very low self-esteem at all and it would take me quite a while to find where my dignity and self-worth have gone.

But in the process of healing and self-discovery, I should enjoy my solo life and move forward. Plan for the things that I would do after the pandemic. Life is too beautiful to be dragged down by the past and people who have just discarded me like that.

So I have

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It hasn’t been easy. It’s still a bit hard but I’m a lot better now compared to when I was half-dead in December and January. I’ve come this far, at this stage that I never thought I’d reach.

I still struggle sometimes when memories hit me but they’re few and far between now compared to before.

Hopefully, healing would soon come.

i see you in every sunset i see

But these sunsets are now mine to keep

i see you in every starlit velvet sky

But the night is the one i’m taking with me

i feel you in the gentle waves

But it’s their lullabies that rock me to sleep

Soon, i tell myself

i will be standing over the edge

And see the world below

I conquered

I live

United colors of Benetton

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US is full of racists and I understand, based on first hand stories and literature, that Asians are the invisible colors there. We tend to try our darned best to blend in and not raise hell.

From J, I learned that the affirmative action was a disservice to Asian Americans. They get left out. They get dismissed and are the least priority.

From my relatives, the stories are like the expectation is that they need to do well, extremely well, for them to be acceptable. There was no other way. Asians needed to work doubly hard so that they can achieve at least the same level of acceptability or success as the whites do.

What I miss about J is the dining table conversations we have about these things (well it was just me listening and him talking). The Atlanta shootings of Asian Americans would surely fire him up and he would be talking nonstop over breakfast about this and that. The photo of that Chinese grandma attacked in California would make him worry about his grandma and also his brother in Alabama, of all places.

Xiao Zhen Xie was attacked in San Francisco. (GoFundMe.com)

They were actually the first thing on my mind when the killings in Atlanta happened.

Asian discrimination of Asians is present too and I’ve been a recipient of that. There was one time I cried when I was explaining to J why I didn’t like being in Singapore. He didn’t understand the hierarchy among Asians, him being Korean and all.

Since working with this xxx who looked down on Filipinos, he somehow got the idea where I was coming from. Why I had to assert myself, that I’m as good as everybody else. That our being poor is not an excuse to dismiss us that we are all gold diggers, incompetent, and brainless.

I remember a coworker remarking that I must have Chinese blood because I was skilled, very good in what I do, and well spoken. I say WTF šŸ¤¬ can’t I just be Filipino and just as good? That’s how low the view us.

I always get this: “Oh you’re not Filipino/can’t be Filipino. You’re fair and pretty or this and that.” WTF WTF WTF!

Yeah, racism is one of the evils of this life. It tastes bad.

I needed this alcohol break. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Yesterday I had back to back webinars and calls and I was writing and editing in between. I barely had time to eat.

But it was good. It made up for the patapon days I had that dragged me down. I have to admit my blog post the other day riled me up when I recalled this young biatch of J’s and the treatment I received. I keep suppressing my emotions so I can move on but when they surface, it’s like being hit by a train.

Repeat after me: I deserve better. I deserve better. I deserve better.

What is better? Me. I should love me. I don’t need anyone. No one else would look out for me. No one else would love my children and accept them. Except me.

No more emotions. It makes me weak.

The world is too small

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Sunken Garden, UP Diliman. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

My world has gotten smaller and smaller. I barely get out of 5km radius of my home. I only get to see a glimpse of the outside world when I ride my bike, like yesterday. Just to get a glimpse of the sunset. To get out of my head.

January was too long for me. I guess February is the same. I’m a prisoner of this pandemic. I’m a prisoner of my mind as well. I want to escape. I want to be very far away from here.

Fruit shake. A simple treat while I rest before going back home. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

The one thing to look forward to in my excursions is this 16 oz fruit shake. My world has been reduced to that.

Next week I want to go on a social media hiatus because everything will have Valentine’s Day ads. Not that I really celebrate it but this time it’s really painful. Two years ago we were in Hong Kong and on V-day we hiked to Victoria Peak to see the sunset. We took the ferry on the way to Kowloon and it was cold. He was so sweet at that time. Had dinner in some hole-in-the-wall restaurant there in Kowloon and took the last train ride back to Sai Ying Pun.

I’m a prisoner of my mind. I want to get away from here. I want to erase the memories.

My little girl told me, “Mommy, we will be your date on V-day.” Yes, my darling daughters. My heart may have been ripped out of me but you are there to help fill the void. I may even grow a new heart because of you, my angels.