It’s cold now. Summer officially ended on March 1st. Winter is coming I could hear in my head, and delivered Game of Thrones style. Good news- Uber and taxis have been deemed essential services!
Honestly, if we all had time to prepare properly, I would’ve made and stocked my freezer (attempted to buy a freezer but either all the good ones were sold out or they weren't delivering) with adobo, sisig and pork barbecue.
Only essential services and businesses will be open and non-essential travel is prohibited
I’ve been doing remote work for over 4 years now and I have it down pat- all I need is my trusted MacBook and a good wifi connection.
I’ve flirted with the idea of going back to school a couple of times and realised later that I wanted to do this because I find it hard to learn in a non-classroom environment. I can pick up a lot of things like graphic design for example which has become my main career, and lately there’s basic video-making and photography, but it’s always been a case that’s more about passion and necessity.
It works for now, but I know that there’s so much more room to learn about these things beyond what I currently use them for- in spite of my constant complaint that I’d rather write instead.
I probably have to accept the fact that this IS my life; that there’s probably no novel down the road, and yet the thought of 25,000 more images in lieu of that terrifies me- and makes me sad 😢
They don’t call it a town, so what do you call it then?
There was an adequate supermarket with just four aisles, a pub (of course) and restaurant, a small museum because it seemed that every place no matter how small had one, a nice cafe (at least) and endless fields of hops. The population was apparently 250, with about 50 or so transients working the hop fields (so someone said at the pub-restaurant where we had dinner the day we arrived). We waited for that awful meal for about 40 minutes but it was too hot to complain. We heard a smattering of languages from groups of men of a range of ages, all caucasian, their downy forearms and sun-burnt necks sporting a uniform coat of dust and huddled over pitches of lager. Would you hit on that, I asked S (we always asked her this question because S had been unattached for quite some time), nodding my head at a lanky Russian in a staind wife-beater singlet. Too thin and probably has gonorrhoea, she replied bored. How about that one? (a young Spanish guy with a perpetual grin and very white teeth). S sighed and then moaned, is this it?
I have a $2,000 new iPhone with supposedly upgraded imaging/camera capabilities but four shots later, this container of Nutri-Grain high protein cereal still looks like dog biscuits. Or little square turds.
And I’m exhausted. No one knows though, no one can tell. I am warm, friendly and efficient on the phone. I feel I can save someone’s life over the phone if they happen to be right on the ledge of a building and ready to jump. You’ll be fine, I murmur. Everything’s going to be fine.
By 2pm, the Nutri-Grain has revealed its true nature; in spite of the high protein it claims to have, it is nothing but sugar. I’ve burned it all off and I feel like I’m dying. My veins seem emptied of blood and I feel light-headed. The person over the phone that I’m in a meeting with thinks she’s being efficient by deliberately not believing in what I’m saying. After the meeting finishes, she starts to say goodbye and I hang up before she could finish, the fucking bitch.
Lunch options after 12pm are scarce; Burger King (vomit), the Z fuel and service station (pretentious craft artisan pie & overpriced sandwiches) and the cafe across the road run by an Asian guy with the squarest shaped head I have ever seen on a person. I choose the cheapest (Asian guy’s cafe).
There is nothing left in his cabinets save for a chicken kebab, a spicy chicken nugget in the shape of a lightning bolt and some sandwiches. I pick the first two along with an egg sand-which.
At 4pm, I feel even worse. I feel like I want to vomit. The 4pm summer sun outside looks like noon in another country like maybe fucking Saudi Arabia. Nothing is worse than a stomach-full of shitty, greasy food in the summer, inside an artificially cooled environment.
Four-thirty arrives and you hear the shuffling of people getting ready to go home.
See you tomorrow for the meeting a colleague calls out. Yup, see you tomorrow I reply, cool, calm and as happy as a goddamned cucumber.
(PS: I did vomit when I got home, crawled into bed at 8 and called in sick the next day)
I received one of these inexpensive, starter barista-style coffee machines as a Christmas gift which was perfect because the last couple of months I had been yakking on and on about how banal capsule-coffee had become; the taste was predictable; that I wanted something more organic & robust; yadda, yadda, yadda.
And so Christmas came and we set it up; I got specialist beans from Starbucks (the machine had its own built-in grinder), Koffee Kult and Kokako and made my 1st cup- which was a fail, because the beans were ground too coarsely and no water was going through. We went through three attempts and got coffee so strong, that 10 minutes after drinking it, I could actually hear my own heart beating.
Long story short, from what I can tell and I am not by any means a coffee connoisseur (I adore Starbucks for one), the coffee made by it and the one from my current Nespresso, seem the same.
And I’m not really complaining, I actually don’t care.
What I do care about is how it takes me about 8 minutes to make a cup of coffee, from the grinding, the heating of the milk and to the cleaning of it; which is why I’ve still kept and continue to use my Nespresso for those days when 8 minutes could be better spent elsewhere.
Apparently, you should avoid discarding the grounds the drain so I’ve taken to collecting them in a glass jar which at the moment, is just about ready to be emptied.
‘Preekend’ is defined by the Urban Dictionary as ‘the time period that starts after lunch on Friday and ends when the weekend starts. Usually in this time period it is particularly hard to focus on work tasks and it is more likely that people are chatting, shopping online and/or doing other non-work related activities.”
Which is just about right because working for only 37.5 hours a week (officially), I find that because I leave work at 2pm or earlier on Fridays, I sometimes already abbreviate my day- (I still work a lot) by doing tasks I know I’d finish by lunch and move longer, more complicated ones to Monday. And I would either work through lunch or have a shorter one so I could leave without rushing at 1 or 2pm.
I don’t mind 40-hour work weeks (or more), but to be able to get off early on Fridays means you can get stuff done you normally would apply annual leave for like doctor’s appointments, facials, shopping and other non-work related stuff because obviously, you’re off from work- welcome to the preekend!
Caught this word watching the 1st episode of the HBO show ‘Succession’ which is a family fighting control of their family empire.
The cast of HBO’s "Succession”.
We grew up hearing of families fighting over money and inheritances and my mom would point out to us that we should count ourselves lucky because we had nothing to fight over 😂.
When I think about it I could say that if we did, we would be different- that we grew up strongly instilled with the reminder that acquiring and maintaining wealth literally came with a price, and that if you wanted to pursue it, you paid that price. But maybe I’m just saying that because we grew up not really having to deal with how to divide $14 billion dollars.
Anyhow, champagne and caviar or ethically-sourced grade 12 Kobe beef dinner aside or whatever the rich eat these days, we went to the Auckland Night Markets in Papatoetoe for dinner. The last couple of months, I’ve been doing Connie’s Korean Bulgogi stand and ordering nothing but the pan-fried pork belly with noodles.
The pork is braised I think in some broth before the liquid evaporates and then it fries in its fat. The vermicelli is cooked along with it and when they serve you a portion, they ladle into it this sweet, sticky broth to finish it off.
I’m not complaining, not really.
I bought amazing gifts for myself; gifts that allow me to continue earning money that I could in return, give amazing gifts to the people I love as well as more gifts for myself (a win-win).
My health is okay and will be better because finally, I have self-control; the lechon can wait until April 2020.
The world is shittier than ever, but I’m not adding to the sludge of shit by creating/sharing my own shit. The rare tweet aside, I’ve closed the door on the situation in the US and the Philippines. Let people who do their beds, lie on it.
It’s a fear that feels similar to going away on a long trip and agonising, sitting on the plane, that you’ve forgotten something really important.
Not that you can do anything about it at that point, 30,000 feet up in the air. But you go through the range of emotions as if it’s already happened.
In the last couple of weeks, I’ve gone back to the house from the bus stop three times because I couldn’t remember if I had turned off the clothes iron. Several hundred thousand dollars up in smoke; do I still pay the mortgage?; how much am I insured? How do I rebuild my wardrobe?
Sometimes I comfort myself with the fact that in my bag (and I bring a big bag to work everyday), I have my Macbook, my pills 💊 enough for a week, and a toiletry bag with perfume, anti-perspirant and moisturisers. I could find a temporary place somewhere and literally start all over again wth just a laptop, an Internet connection and a week’s worth of stuff that guarantees you don’t look or feel any worse than you already are.
Appearances are important to me. I look in the mirror and I feel calmed. That person looking back at me is what I’ve made that person to be- I have some degree of control over that.
The year feels like a fire that has raged out of control and now I am looking at the embers and thinking, it’s gone. But what’s gone really? The thing is when you’re middle-aged, everything becomes an accounting- your age, your mortgage, your income in 5 years, your blood pressure and time itself.
(at this point, I’ve actually lost my train of thought but I must admit that I was never good at making essays so I’m leaving this here as is, and moving on! Time is ticking! We can’t waste our time expounding on arguments and believing that resolving them on paper does any one any good.)
“I don’t write anymore because I no longer feel lonely”
Game of Thrones done and that was nearly a decade worth of episodes which makes you re-think of how you perceive the passage of time. Are you living life on your terms or is it hinged on superficial stuff that you consume like content-streaming?
Loving my Huawei P30 pro (shot above taken by it) but wondering how the current persecution of the company and anti-Chinese anything in general is going to affect it down the track.
Where are you Lei?
It’s June. Half the year gone.
Love should be steady and consistent.
When you finally warm up to the reality of home-ownership and open your wallet accordingly
Where do you see yourself 3 years from now?
It was Matt’s birthday last Friday but because everyone’s schedules was all over, dinner was re-set for Saturday. We went to Kalye Manila, a Filipino restaurant. Matt ordered everything he wanted to eat; he had sisig, tokwa’t baboy and lechon kawali. His grandmother would’ve been horrified, but he’s 23; he could eat anything he wants and does.
I hate travelling.
Give me a good book (or Netflix), a quiet day without any commitments to work and two comforting meals (like the poached chicken above) and i’m all good. I will be restored.
Caught a slight chill in Australia with that scratchy throat and all the familiar accompanying symptoms.
Lozenges were all I could do then. When I got back, I just worked from home, made soup, avoided expending negative energy (eg. getting enraged at the news, reacting to people on social media).
And all was restored. For now at least.
New Zealand telco Spark announced plans recently to adopt eSIMS paving the way for these Apple Watch variants to finally be available in NZ
I was minutes away from upgrading my Apple Series 2 watch to the 4; a stainless steel model in gold (after years of preferring silver) even if this was for the Australian market. The 4 series stainless steel Apple watch variants are not sold in New Zealand because the telcos have yet to adopt eSIM capable devices. If I bought it, the watch would have limited coverage as well as limited consumer protection guarantee if it somehow got broken but…
The meeting was delayed. I sighed, adjusting the sleeve of my knitted cashmere shirt. The stainless steel Apple watch in gold on my wrist with its matching gold Milanese loop, glinted as it caught the light. The face complication mimics that of a mechanical watch, but rendered in full digital colour and this contrast between the traditional and the new never fails to excite me…
It’s perfect I murmur to the sales-staff (a woman in her late 30s wearing horn-rimmed glasses) who knew that I was on the verge of buying it, that I was the type who bought these things. It would be my dressy watch, I had told her earlier as she nodded approvingly; and in my head, for when I get that cashmere knit, the pale tan Chinos, the navy-blue double-breasted pea-coat and suede Chelsea boots to go with it.
The enumeration of these items, of where I’d get them, of how much they’d cost, of which other item of clothing they’d match with in so many combinations felt as if I had fallen down a steep stairwell, everything a blur, a jumble of colour.
A co-worker called her to come over for a second and when she turned her back, I stood up from where I had fallen and slipped away as stealthy as a ninja and escaped.
Is it outrageous to spend over AUS$5,000 for a bag? In my mind, having already spent the same amount for a non-essential, it doesn’t seem to be.
The black Yves Saint Laurent Sac Du Jour is done in a seamless matte black leather with matching matte black hardware and padlock. The first one I had ever seen was in shiny, black croc skin which I thought was too feminine. But this one was perfect- it had heft and a structure that meant you could put in it, your grey MacBook Pro and black iPad Pro; you’d need several Classic Moleskine notebooks as well, a proper metal pen and none of those gel-inked ones that may stain the bag.
I would need ink-black Nudie jeans (a tighter, skinnier fit than the pair I already own); a black pair of Brogue boots; red plaid shirt and maybe a sleeveless puffer jacket (dark green?).
I work in a part of Auckland that Aucklanders describe as rough; but of course the standards for rough are vastly different from the standards I used to apply when I still lived in the Philippines. Rough meant that the only eating places within walking distance were a Burger King and a bakery. Rough meant that when you were waiting for the bus or caught the train that you were a bit more careful than usual about who was loitering around (like 6 foot tall teens who would steal shoes off your feet if they liked them).
Rough meant that some staff go to work in clothes I would only wear at home- not that there’s anything wrong with that.
And I take public transport- sometimes I take the train, walking along a walk-way which at night or even at noon could be trouble.
And here I was possibly walking through it with a $5K bag with $5K worth of tech inside, in $250 jeans and a $350 puffer jacket.
I put the bag down, thanked the sales assistant for her time and walked out the store.
I had to go to a bookstore, like this one
Bookstores and libraries are my safe places,
I feel reassured that somehow,
when everything has been lost, taken
by fate, or by foolish choices,
I will find myself here again.
All I have to do is look
Discovered that I could leave the camera behind, at least on vacation, and just use the Huawei P30 pro- and get the shots I want.
I’ve discovered that sales-staff at camera shops know their stuff, like I think that some of them are actual photographers or content creators. The good thing about this is that they can point you out in the right direction in terms of what gear to get. On one hand, you’ll encounter someone so passionate about their craft that they FAIL to distinguish between their personal opinions and their duty to provide factual information and advice.
‘I never did warm up to the (Lumix) G9” I said. ‘Why??” He replied, ‘I have a G9’, his face showed slight irritation as if what I said was a personal repudiation of his own ownership of one. After a few more awkward words, he took the camera (the new Lumix S1) off my hands and I left.
Well fuck you, I thought. I may not be a completely knowledgeable photographer but I don’t sweat long hours working in a stupid camera shop and acting like a know-it-all asshole.
I don’t like my camera anymore and it’s as simple as that. Trouble is, after having spent nearly $5,000 getting my current one only a few months back, where am I gonna get another $5,000 to get a new one?
You could repeat every line and word from the last post from Jan 11 and it would describe exactly what every week and month was since then.
Literally wash, rinse, dry, repeat. April is nearly done. I turned a year older, actual age irrelevant. Matt will be 22 in May and spends his days ordering food via Uber. Leila should’ve stayed behind in the UK. Dagupan burned in the summer-heat. Elections are coming up in the Philippines and the only reason I care is because for some strange reason, I even bothered to sign up to vote even when we know that it’s POINTLESS. When I think of it, it makes me want to vomit bile; it makes me think of horrible things I would like to do if I only had the means because the truth is this- NOTHING HAS CHANGED. What does it take to remove a mountain blocking your path? YOU BLOW IT UP (God, forgive me).
(Breathe)
I need to put this aside because another truth is this- it’s no longer my life, even part of my family is still there; it’s no longer my reality. When I putter around the house that I bought and see a sunrise across the Pahurehure inlet where the Auckland Southern motorway runs through, it is something that absolutely does not remind me of anything of the life I left behind. It feels that I am starting again, that this is finally, the life I actually want.
Everything is both new and old. I am both old and young.
The theme for this year (and the new one) is: less carbs. Well, I’ve been doing this for decades really but I guess it hits home when you try it and seeing for yourself how dramatic the results can be as Jong has found out. We had grilled lamb, pork and chicken, a salad, shrimps. For desert, Doyet baked a cassava cake- we tried to look up Erwan Heussaff’s recipe- but with half the sugar. Over-all, the meal was satisfying and the clean-up, a breeze. Less is definitely more.
How can you be generous to other people when you can’t be generous to yourself? I’m still mulling over getting a pair of Nike Air Zoom Pegasus 35 Shield Water-Repellent running shoes but then who knows?
With knowledge comes the realisation that you need to buy the tools for it; at $548, this zoom lens is middle of the road but can still do the job
Bought a couple of e-books based on the NY Times Best Books of 2018
I only relented to get a digital subscription to Wired Magazine because it was US$5 for one year
Paying off and closing a credit card is so immensely satisfying..
I love totes. I love camo. And I love dinosaurs so it’s a win-win for this Coach Rexy Tote 42
Finally, the holiday break. I could breathe. I could vacillate between wanting to do something creative/productive or simply curl up in bed watching Netflix (I’m aiming to finish the entire run of ‘The Originals’). I could make a list as I’ve always had for the past 20 years- and I did below…
Get fit (finally get to the gym everyday or commit to finishing 100 push-ups a day, stretching and and exercises).
Study the features/functionalities of the camera I bought (Lumix G9).
Write a really, really short, short-story collection just to flex those flabby creative muscles.
Cook something I’ve never done before (wanting to bake a black-forest cake, but since sugary cakes are out of the picture…)
Do facial skin treatments every-night
Complete my transfer papers to a new doctor/GP
Post actual Christmas/New Year cards
Get another eye-check
Read five new books
Sort clothes
I watched two movies in the last 24 hours. Eric Matti’s BuyBust was on Netflix and I was worried that I would see right through it as I normally would with Filipino movies, but it was either too good or I hadn’t seen a Filipino movie in a long time that it actually was good in my eyes. The movie made me so angry that I wanted to log into an old Twitter account just so I could troll some people. Fortunately I couldn’t remember the password anymore or the email that I used to open it. After a while, I felt really stupid. And horrified- what if I had gun? Would I be one of those people?? Apparently, I think I have one of those ‘tendencies’.
The next morning, the kids and I (minus Toni) went to see Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindewald. We got on the wrong bus and we had to get off at Manurewa to catch the right one, but we made it to the mall with time to spare. After about an hour, Chini says to me, ‘is this an adult movie'?’ and I said that it probably was even if half the theatre was filled with kids. It felt like the later and darker Harry Potter movies that we dragged the kids to, I think more for our enjoyment than theirs. The movie turned out to be as the trailer portrayed it; frenetic without the thrill and magical, but without the joy. It was a good thing Chini was preoccupied with popcorn, an orb-shaped, hard to hold (for a child) coke container designed for the new Grinch movie and a bag of Maltesers.
Five minutes towards the end, Chini had to go to the bathroom (I had told her to hold it in 15 minutes earlier, but she couldn’t any longer) so we had to leave and the funny thing was, I didn’t really care if I missed the ending.