I could say fuck you to 2021, but I personally had a terrific year so….
hello 2022
The magic wish list
When R was younger and didn’t quite yet know the power of his mind, he relied on basic magic- crude magic, like writing affirmations on blessed paper (written after the last full moon prior to the new year), and burnt (conveniently and discretely with the fireworks) just before the clock struck 12.
For more serious stuff, he would write out wishes in the smallest script possible- in reverse- on a mirror fogged with humidity. If it was granted, the wish would disappear. But mind you, when he first knew of this, R was skeptical; it could have been a change in temperature, or that someone may have deliberately wiped it off. But since he did it in his own bathroom which no one else used (with his room locked for good measure) he was fairly certain, it was working as it should.
But more importantly, he had proven it for the last three years of what it granted, and what it withheld. His face burned with shame at the memory of the first two times he did it. Top of his lists for those two years was one word- fame.
Looking back now, he didn’t quite know what it really meant, or what he wanted. Was it adulation? Like people on a sound-stage screaming his name as he sang or danced, neither of which he knew how to do? If it was granted, did he miraculously wake up one morning singing with the voice of an angel, or moon-walked effortlessly across their verandah like Michael Jackson? (he had tried this, but his ankles were stiff and he didn’t move an inch). Did it mean money, because if one was famous, wasn’t wealth not far behind?
But he didn’t think of these things until later, on the 3rd year when he had ‘fame’ at number 2, and when he did look at the mirror after midnight, he had to look again, half-believing. But there it was; number 1 was gone (D will stop bullying me) and so was number 3 (I will do well in Math).
But number 2, ‘EMAF’, in all-caps, was there as it had been for the last three years, unerased.
But whether it was magic doing its work, or life taking its normal course (nudged by magic, who knows?) D stopped bullying him because he moved schools. And he did better at Math- just- because his mother got him a tutor.
But he never ever put ‘fame’ on his wish list ever again, even after he started to understand its strange dynamics. He knew that like a plant, it had to start as a seed, with magic being its oxygen and water, and having it flourish and bloom at a preternatural rate. But he had looked inside of himself, at his catalog of abilities and there was nothing there really that was special or extraordinary.
He wasn’t disappointed at this though. He knew that talent and skill can be granted, even if they were neither special nor extraordinary. Having something that he never had before, was all the magic he ever needed.
So he started to write his magic wish list:
1) you will speak French;
2) you will write something great;
3) you will get some muscles;
4) you will paint;
Relax my ass
The following things relax me:
1. A cup of coffee
2. Work task done and dusted
3. Clean carpets
4. Not having spent much (this is a recent thing)
5. No pending work task the next day (because I’ve all done them the day previous).
6. A good meal that wasn’t too complicated to prepare
7. A flat stomach (on some days)
8. Finished a work-out
9. A good book
10. A good short-something on any of the streaming services
So eight days into the Christmas break, I feel like I’m over it. I should have planned it better, but then planning is also hardly relaxing. But really, there are only so many hours you can spend not doing anything; only so many chocolates you can eat before you feel absolutely sick. I look at the time I have to spend on holiday and it triggers the same feeling I get looking at the Prezzy card I got from work; I don’t want to fuck it up by wasting it on shit.
Reading list Dec 21 - Jan 2022
Jeffrey Euginides’ Middlesex: Primarily a coming-of-age story (Bildungsroman) and family saga, the 21st century gender novel chronicles the effect of a mutated gene on three generations of a Greek family, causing momentous changes in the protagonist's life. The novel won the 2003 Pulitzer Prize for fiction .
Amor Towles’ The Lincoln Highway: The bestselling author of A Gentleman in Moscow and Rules of Civility and master of absorbing, sophisticated fiction returns with a stylish and propulsive novel set in 1950s America. Spanning just ten days and told from multiple points of view, Towles’s third novel will satisfy fans of his multi-layered literary styling while providing them an array of new and richly imagined settings, characters, and themes.
Joanne Tompkins’ What Comes After: After the shocking death of two teenage boys tears apart a community in the Pacific Northwest, a mysterious pregnant girl emerges out of the woods and into the lives of those same boys’ families—a moving and hopeful novel about forgiveness and human connection.
Andy Weir’s Project Hail Mary: Is a 2021 science fiction novel by Andy Weir. It is his third novel, after 2011's The Martian, and 2017's Artemis. Set in the near future, the novel centers on junior high (middle) school-teacher-turned-astronaut Ryland Grace, who wakes up from a coma afflicted with amnesia. He gradually remembers that he was sent to the Tau Ceti solar system, 12 light-years from Earth, to find a means of reversing a solar dimming event that could cause the extinction of humanity.
Nnedi Okorafor’s Remote Control: An alien artifact turns a young girl into Death's adopted daughter in Remote Control, a thrilling sci-fi tale of community and female empowerment from Nebula and Hugo Award-winner Nnedi Okorafor. The day Fatima forgot her name, Death paid a visit. From hereon in she would be known as Sankofa—a name that meant nothing to anyone but her, the only tie to her family and her past.
Keri Hulme’s The Bone People: The buzz when The Bone People won the Booker prize in 1986 was all about the struggle Keri Hulme had to bring it to publication. First there was the monumental effort of writing it over a 12-year period, then the fact that nearly every publisher rejected it out of hand. Those who were prepared to look at it wouldn't contemplate bringing it to print without severe re-edits, prompting the author to declare she would rather have the book "embalmed in Perspex" than re-shaped. When the book was finally taken on, it was by Spiral, a tiny feminist press in New Zealand led by three women – two of whom had links to the same Maori tribe as Hulme. The initial print run was 2,000 copies. When they sold out and so did the next 2,000, Spiral approached Hodder and Stoughton in New Zealand, who shifted another 20,000 and brought it to the attention of the Booker judges.
Boxing Day haul
There’s only one place for the ultimate Boxing Day shopping spree- Smith & Caughey’s. One of the oldest surviving retail businesses in New Zealand, it was established in 1880 by Ulster-born Marianne Smith as a drapers and millinery shop and is the oldest-surviving department store in Auckland.
And also the place for the good stuff.
Here’s what we dropped serious coin on (if we had the money and a tacky apartment).
Noche Buena 2021
A Simple Prayer for Christmas Dinner
Dear God, we give thanks for this time when we can all be together. We give thanks for this food which is bountiful and delicious. We give thanks for this joyful holiday when we can celebrate our Savior and his love for us. With joy we pray, Amen
Dec 24 2021
The tricky thing about Christmas in New Zealand is that because the season falls on a southern hemisphere summer, it’s like being in the Philippines- though more than ever, tropical typhoon season has crept closer and closer, and for some like the people in the Visayas and Mindanao, it’s celebrating the season in the destructive and tragic wake of a typhoon.
I wish I could stay longer, but the kids are all grown up; they don’t really need anyone. And Chini- the baby who made the last six Christmases joyous and happy is no longer a child. So I’m left to my own devices which suits me just fine- no chores to do, could finally relax a bit, caught up with a bunch of shows.
And the meals- they do bring you home. All those lazy afternoons with a feast of grilled pork and fish, a seaweed salad with green mango and tomatoes or sauteed mung beans thick with fat slices of ampalaya and malunggay…
mmmmmmm..
Midweek
Had lunch in the city- yum char- and the 1st time since lockdown started in August. It was a quick, I’ll pick you-up on a day of light traffic and whizzing through 12 little courses, then goodby, happy holidays, I’ll drop you off thing. It’s good to reconnect (I stopped myself from talking about work which is what we always do these days) with people you actually trust, yet are not in your personal life.
They trust that you bring the same kind of efficiency and skill that you have at work to your personal life, and I’m glad to say that they’re at least 90% correct. And i’m always working on the remaining 10%.
A friend dropped us a goodie box of various succulents. She said they’d be fine in the box until we find the time to plant them. But 24 hours later, they don’t seem to look so good- not so succulent looking. So we took matters in our own hands, cleared up a patch of soil at the back and stuck all the succulents in.
And apparently, that’s all it takes for them to take root and grow. It’s a pity you can’t eat them.
Back to work then nek minute..
The daily commute (Uber mostly), the question of what to have for lunch, machine-made lattes…then 5 minutes later, it may be back to lockdown again because of Omicron..
Summer of 21
Where did the time go?
I've missed the city
First time I saw the Auckland CBD, I thought, is this it?
At about 4+ km2, Makati City in comparison is nearly 8x bigger. Funny how you equate size with greatness which is kinda true if all you think that makes a city great is what you can buy, see and eat in it.
And there’s not much of that to be honest. But after 13 years living just 21kms outside the city (the funny thing is how Kiwis think of that commute as torturous when they haven’t experienced EDSA) I’ve learned that quality is really better than quantity- part of that is the fact that as you grow older, less is better for your health and survival and yes, happiness.
You get to adapt to a way of life where you get to compare and assess your needs and wants, and realise that not being able to find a good French restaurant is NOT a fucking big deal. Or that you can’t find the jeans you want at the mall.
Living in Auckland is all about managing your expectations, which is a great thing to learn if you find yourself living elsewhere (I don’t think I will).
The city was almost empty today when I went to pick up these shoes I bought; but then it’s never always full even on a work-day, pre-Covid. The density is such that you don’t get to literally rub shoulders with crowds on the streets (which is why our Covid rates are low) which now- Covid era- is gross.
I could have stopped for coffee, but Starbucks wasn’t on my way, and I’m still trying to be careful- the city may be empty, but not all of its occupants are necessarily visible…
16th December, Thursday
Of course I’d resign from work if I won the lottery. But not right away because not only would that be rude, but I’m not that sort of person.
But I would definitely fly home to the Philippines and to hell with MIQ. Maybe I could fly to Australia and find a yacht to hire and cross the Tasman, as some have done it that way. Imagine quarantining in the ocean, eating lobster and drinking champagne for breakfast.
But I do need to go home. Mom had a small accident recently doing something she could have done at another time and I’m beginning to see myself in the same situations- loving independence, proud of my efficiency and checking off chores as if my life depended on it. Like my mom, I hate relaxing and my idea of it, is having finished a million things and to be finally in bed watching something or reading.
But she needs to slow down. I need to slow down.
With a couple of extra million, money you don’t really need, maybe it would buy some time to put the manic work and life ethic away for a year or two.
I could:
1. Revisit drawing and painting
2. Write that novel and not worry that it turns out to be shit (I’m pretty sure it won’t be).
3. Build a body good enough to grace an ‘influencer’ Instagram account
4. Visit old relatives in the US (though still wary of Covid).
5. Rebuild the old house in Pangasinan
6. Rebuild my dad’s ancestral home
The week before Christmas
Christmas for me is like going to another country- the getting there is the more exciting part.
I think because in my head, I have all these images and expectations of what the day is going to be like, and they rarely ever match-up with reality. But the getting there- the tomorrow and the next days that you never quite plan for- offer the most surprises. And yet, we never try to relinquish control to the fates.
But yes- everything is ready. The menu for the next two weeks has been planned; special food is on its way; all gifts wrapped and accounted for; special personal items bought (yup, bought the jacket and the shoes); work is sorted; even tried to whiten my teeth again- and yes, root canal schedule for January has been set.
What else?
How was your weekend?
I have a spare $400; what should I buy with it?
I have no kids, no dependents. I save more than 10% of my income. I’ve been working way too hard- and I haven’t bought much non-essential stuff really. I just realised, what am I giving myself this Christmas??
Still struggling with the heat/ a list
Found a new dental practice- young, enthusiastic and thorough. And most importantly, got actual dates to fix this fucking tooth.
Time to get a taste of some holiday food that I’ve been missing; deluxe, gourmet fruit-cake, caviar on toast, pork lechon (hopefully), truffled cheese, chicken-skin..
What to watch??? Dune, Spiderman, James Bond and the Eternals all showing at the same time..
Haven’t been exercising as much because of the heat and I think I’m plateauing.
Still on the hunt for little gifts
It's just Christmas
I remember a couple of years back how much of a big deal we always made it out to be.
We made at least five dishes, half of which we didn't even like- it just looked amazing on Facebook (!). I shopped like crazy and came into the New Year with my cards nearly maxed out and guiltily hearing my mom’s oft-repeated admonishment, ‘don’t be a one-day millionaire!’.
Now, we just make sure the main dish is something we love- pork, pork, pork! - with a much simpler menu.
I don’t have Facebook anymore. I only have one credit card (my trusted American Express) and just save up when I want to buy something. And I’m still NOT a millionaire and never will be.
But I’m happier. And exhausted- this fucking heat, the work (which I have to admit I love).
But the holidays are less of a hassle when you put aside your expectations - ever diminishing every year until finally, they’re at a level where they’re supposed to be which is where you are at the moment - and not be burdened by them or by sentiment.
And accepting the fact, that Christmas will never again, be how you used to have it.
Good to be home again
We’re not a sentimental family. If I was caught out of the borders, I wouldn’t be one of those sob losers (much as I sympathise with their plight) blaming the government for choices I’ve made.
But it’s more than great to see everyone again.
2nd Dec/Thursday
It’s so hot that my armpits feel as if something sticky is plastered on them (the anti-perspirant which does nothing anyway). For the longest time, I used this anti-perspirant called Old Spice Endurance. It was so industrial strength that not even soap could wash it off. I would use it everyday without realising that I was creating this layer of product that eventually transferred onto the armpits of my clothes, staining them white and ruining the; and my shirts aren’t necessarily cheap so..
I switched to a spray one that promises no staining but now I’ve learned to live with sweaty pits; I just need to remind myself not to raise my arms in public to stretch and displaying wet pits but who the fuck cares.
The more you worry about it I realised, the more you actually sweat.
Anyhow, it’s only 22 degrees in Auckland- but feels twice that and I’m thinking, I won’t be able to live in the Philippines anymore unless I confine myself in an air-conditioned prison. But no I don’t want to anymore to be honest.
Anyhow, welcome to the last 28 days or so for the shit-show that is 2021 (the world that is, and not my life).
It’s been so hot, Lily has taken to hanging out back where the sun never shines and sleeps on the cool concrete
Tuesday's Chicken Pot Pie
Pies are ridiculously easy to make, I mean if you have store-bought pastry you can literally turn anything into a pie. A pie is essentially just two things- the pastry case and the filling.
Don’t bother making your own though the only argument for that is if you’re doing large rounds and the square-shaped sheets just don’t cut it (you can roll them out again though).
And you can have literally any filling though make sure you have a binding sauce like cheese or maybe even a roux. I got one of the last two packets of chicken breast and minced them with onions, seasoning and oregano. Cooked it with a can of Campbell’s mushroom soup and two fistfuls of frozen spinach.
Put in the oven at 180 for about 40 minutes.
