A list brought to you by a cute kitten from the SPCA. We went to the SPCA the other day and it was intense. Each animal had case histories, a list of dos and dont’s, an actual character. We were warned that kittens were hard work- and not only that, the expense was equivalent to raising two kids (at least in the Philippines). But there was no harm in looking and hoping that you would fall in love- and be heart-broken- all over again.
I think I’m making some head-way in mentally conditioning myself not to get worked up when I read the news. I feel a little bit better not using the NY Times app that much lately- the pain of reading through nothing but chaos, despair and stupidity - because I was able to renegotiate my subscription which used to cost me NZ$40 a month. Today, I read Laura Ingraham’s tweets and was amazed at how easy it was for me to wish her and her kind a thousand painful deaths without even feeling remorse or shame; but I didn’t tweet it! I didn’t feel super aggravated! This is what Trump and Duterte have inflicted on this world- a legitimisation of behaviour we would have thought unthinkable and horrifying.
Whether they lose or remain in power (if not them, their minions will), how do we undo this? How do we unsay every horrible thing we’ve said; unthink every evil thought?
All this negativity I think has aged me. I sit up in bed, looking at myself in selfie mode with my phone and thinking, my neck looks slack. There’s a crease at the corners of my mouth. And my eyes seem worse. The consolation is when I take my glasses off, there is a comforting blurness to everything.
Thinking of putting a moratorium on all clothes-buying for the next 6 months; save all of it for one go at the dermatologist’s clinic; at the dentist (now that getting dental care overseas is out of the question); for customised meals and a personal trainer. Throw in a couple of hundred dollars for pilates classes.
Write a novel. Yup!
What gets your vote?
Since buying a house, I haven’t had the chance to change my electorate- so it’s still Papakura with Doyet and family walking down to Chini’s school to cast our votes (Toni can vote now, how time flies) and it feels like old, old times when dad was running for office and we would all be dressed, smiling very hard smiles as we voted at our precinct in Naguilayan, waving to people, our eyes meeting familiar faces and thinking, is this stupid cunt voting for my dad or not?
Always that small hard knot at the pit of your stomach, a flash of premonition and of the question- how much of your future will ride on the results?
But dad got felled by a stroke while in office and while he wasn’t fine, we actually were but we didn't know it yet. It would take time for reality to catch up with fear, with uncertainty. And one day, we found ourselves at the beach without dad and while his absence was a small, omnipresent shadow, the day was bright and glorious; we were truly fine.
I deactivated my Twitter account just the other day because I realised that the amount of energy I was putting into it didn't translate to anything tangible really; because who am I, a nobody with zero influence, with my persistent stabs at the status quo? The comfort you think you get believing that your opinion somehow counts is outrageously inconsequential compared to how others actually profit from it. Fuck Twitter and fuck Facebook.
And guess what- the majority really don’t vote the way they should. The dissonance has grown to a point where I just give up because you know what, whoever wins, I’m fine. I’ll live. I’ll survive. I’m buying a new $2,000 iPhone when my current one is barely a year old because I could.
But I voted today because I could and because in this country at least, there’s still more than a fistful of hope; and who am I to begrudge others that?
Monday
I think this is the problem- we try to push ourselves to do things that are not always inherently natural.
Where you at?
There’s this friend who only communicates with me via What’s App- just a hello or a how are you every now and then for the last couple of years. My response has always been, ‘I’m busy’ or variations thereof. Always that, always busy.
But then it’s true. The world shudders underneath the weight of chaos and continued idiocy and I wince, but it’s far off in the distance, like a clap of thunder on an otherwise sunny day and you wonder if it’s even real. So you carry on because yes, you’re busy.
And it’s beautiful here where you are, in splendid isolation. Just the other day, there were strawberries at the supermarket grown from somewhere down south where there is a pocket of land with a warm micro-climate. Strawberries in winter would you believe? Maybe this is where we should go- do our own thing. Eat and grow our own stuff. Keep the door closed. Indefinitely. What would we miss??
Well, we were hoping to go to the cinema again. There’s a boutique one that opened just before the pandemic went full blast and everything closed; it had individual recliners, only 16 plush seats to a theatre and a discrete button you could push to summon house sauvignon and pork-belly bites slathered in spicy hoisin. The sequel to A Quiet Place had a September date we were looking forward to and then it was pulled out. But then really, just get a tub of ice-cream, a packet of crisps and there’s all the streaming you could ever want. Cinemas don’t know it yet, but they’re doomed.
Lately when I get home, I don’t even glance at my emails. The line has been pushed to the very edge that finally, it’s clear and defined. When I hear my Apple Watch beeping to remind me to stand up and walk for a bit, I am able to think of strategies, refine ideas and remember tasks in those 5 minutes between standing up, walking through the expanse of the office and and back to my station. Not a minute is wasted.
Because I’m busy and because finally, there is clarity in what we’re supposed to do and of my role in it. The pandemic made that happen.
I just wish maybe that I had more time to do other things on the days when everything that needed to be done has been done and I only have my concerns to think about, which I realised, aren’t much. You don’t really count laundry, house maintenance and meals as concerns. I do them on auto-pilot and perfectly at that.
We had a couple of spring-onions from the supermarket and I decided to do this hack that everyone did during quarantine. By putting the cut bulb ends with roots in a container filled with water, you could have an endless supply of spring onions.
I wonder though as to why you would need an endless supply of them- nonetheless, the hack worked. The plants have grown tremendously fast and i’ve transferred them into a jar so they could grow upwards, held neatly in place inside it.
Looking at it, I feel oddly comforted at the idea that it doesn't take much really to grow, to survive. All you need is to somehow still be intact at the core, at the root- to put yourself on a spot, to stay there and do what you need to do for now, because yes, you’re very busy.
I love winter, but I'm exhausted
It’s also possibly the post-covid lockdown effect; your sense of time is still unbalanced. I honestly thought I was remiss from blogging for just two weeks, but it’s actually nearly an entire month!!
The only comfort (aside from work ironically) is physical like nice, warm clothes. They put you in the right mind-set and like armour, they make you sit up straighter and make you walk as if you don’t have a ton of work on your shoulders (you do!).
I wish I could buy new winter clothes every week- I mean I can, but of course that would be dumb.
Spotlight
Three weeks ago, on my I’m-Going-To-Do-A-Million-Things-While-In-Lockdown binge, I obsessed on buying a starter sewing-machine and taking up on my Project Runway fantasies.
Frankly, I would’ve probably struggled even doing hemming for my pants which is perhaps the only thing I would’ve used them for anyway. Today at Spotlight helping Mary hunt for a specific set of knitting needles, the discounts for a variety of sewing machines became even steeper, even reaching 40% for some pretty good overlocker brands.
But I held my attention deficit disorder in check- there’s a SHITLOAD of other important stuff you need to do first I told myself, passing by bolts of cotton, jacquard, wool and tartan.
I remember my mother buying a sewing machine once when we were kids with exactly the same aspiration, as she had grown up, a beautiful, doted on, only child whose dresses were sewn for her by loving aunts and family friends. And all she ever made were curtains, I swear to God, unless I’m remembering it wrong!
Imagine- goddamned curtains- when you can buy them now in any set size, shape and length, all ready to put up.
So it’s a sobering reality check really to know that for some things, it’s never just enough to buy the tool in order to learn the trade.
I feel progressive
Remember bifocals and how, looking into your grandparents’ magnified eyes, you would never have thought in a million years that you’d be wearing the same thing?
Four decades and ageing eyes later, you’re here thanking technology and thanking fate that maybe you were lucky as well. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten positive comments about progressive glasses- headaches, blurring, fainting, crashing the car (unlikely for me because I don’t drive).
However, I only considered them because I mistakenly thought they were going to be cheaper. I wasn’t convinced they were going to work so I thought, might as well get cheaper frames so if it turned out that they were blurry, made me faint or crash into things, the expense wasn’t going to be too much. As it turned out, I was wrong on the 1st one and correct on the 2nd.
The gradation of the lenses was seamless and allowed me to finally have just one pair where I can see what’s far, what’s in the middle (like three feet away from me) and what’s up close like when I’m reading.
I would most likely still use my current glasses (I have two) for long distance and the other for reading like when I’m home, but I wouldn't need to bring two pairs every time I went out (worse when I’ taking photos where I need to switch to my readers to see what I had taken). Still, they don’t come cheap at over $900 where the cost of the Armani frames that I picked was just $150.
Monday
Back to oatmeal
Got my blood-test results and my cholesterol is a bit elevated- which I knew- but not as high as I thought it would be without medication, which I had stopped as a test.
And the culprit? Food of course- it always is. During the lockdown in an effort to have variety, we’ve had more red meat than we’ve ever had in a long time. And chips- like potato chips- a bagful nearly every week for over a month.
So it’s back to medication (statins) and perhaps, way less of the meat. Like everyone else, I had my oatmeal-in-the-morning run before it was put aside with ever shifting diets and preferences which currently, has me eating nothing until lunch.
The question is, does it work? The answer- I don’t really know. I exercise regularly; I take heaps of supplements and I still don’t know. This is why I rely on regular blood-tests and doctors; the blood-work is a more accurate and definitive picture of the state of your body.
On one hand, I get terribly hungry now before 10am and I don’t think I would’ve lasted until noon without eating something, so oatmeal it is instead of a biscuit.
Arroz Caldo
Rain this whole week is projected which started yesterday, but it looks like it won’t hardly make a difference to the drought situation; the ‘rain’ is a fine mist, like a watery veil that damply caresses your face. But rain always means some humidity and less of the biting fall coldness (winter doesn't officially start until the last week of June apparently) so it’s good.
Made arroz caldo from two large breast chicken pieces and a small cupful of the Jasmine rice we just bought. We don’t have patis- patis and kalamansi juice make an arroz caldo- so I chopped up anchovy fillets instead. What I got was a delicious creamy umaminess that’s more of a risotto if that makes sense. A dash of sesame oil and half of a lemon for a springy sourness made it perfect.
TGIF
The house’s 1st floor where I have my work station is freezing in winter so when I couldn’t stand the cold anymore, I would take breaks outside to warm myself up in the sun. I’ve made peace with the sun now. But it’s a careful friendship. I only stay out 5 to 10 minutes max at a time.
I finish at 2 on Fridays and lately, I’ve embraced the opportunities that shortened work-time brings wholeheartedly even when there was a time when I obsessed the low five figures I could get back if I bumped up to a 40-hour week.
I don’t even bother to get bothered by the stack of laundry, the spot in the dining area that’s predictably full of crumbs that I always fanatically vacuum, or the kitchen cabinets that need re-organising.
I want NOT to care for once because I know that the world continues to spin regardless- that’s right, the world continues to spin regardless of what it’s inhabitants do or don’t do.
So for once, I’m not going to think about the novel I’m going to write, the painting I’m going to create, the food I’m going to cook, or the body I’m going to build with push-ups and 4km nightly runs.
I’m just going to fucking relax and not do shit.
Never ending ZOOM-BAH
Currently obsessed with..
I feel awfully unfit
Oh, today is Mother's Day
I can’t remember when Mother’s Day first entered my consciousness; growing up, we never observed it. Even today, I actually felt weird sending my mother a message on What’sApp greeting her a Happy Mother’s Day with heart and bouquet emojis. I only did because it’s easier.
I’m not really that generation of easy I Love You’s, quick tears and automatic hugs. You expressed love by doing right by your parents and what they’ve taught you. There are no tears because you followed their advice, followed your own gut, and never reached that point where you had to cry. And who needs a hug when you can give them something like money even if they didn’t need it, only because you can and partly because they taught you the means to earn it.
Bought this lime-tree on sale for $80- eighty bucks. I put aside $300 so I could go on a plant shopping-spree; nothing extravagant like $80 lime-trees, but more of cheaper indoor ornamentals. But I changed my mind. Got anxious at the last minute thinking of all that responsibility. So far, we’ve bought a grand total of eight, two of which- silver cypresses- have died.
Today: Wednesday
The sun’s out and throughout the day, I would go out the porch or the deck upstairs to catch some sun- something I thought I wouldn’t ever do.
Work has been intense- I work as if I’m a driver on a race-track and the objective is endurance. I stop only when necessary. I’m focused. Everything done as quick as they arrive. And I make sure I’m always ahead.
It’s exhausting but oddly satisfying- like bacon and eggs on rice.
I’m due for my regular blood-test soon so wondering how that would go with the lockdown diet. But to be fair, it has been a balanced one- though I think I’ve had more beef and pork over these last few weeks than I’ve ever had prior. But mind you, we only eat a major meal once a day.
The morning and afternoon’s ‘meals’ consist of lattes, espressos instant coffees and leftovers amounting to just two cups at the most. I thought that chips/crisps would sabotage me, but I haven’t had them as much as I was expecting.
If there were two food items I could store/hoard, it would surely be bacon and eggs- you have fat there and protein and salt which I would prefer any day to sweet.
If only.
Today: Sunday
Rain finally, all over the country and some hope to end a drought in Auckland that was threatening to implement water restrictions.
I used to love rainy weather, but rain in the Southern Hemisphere seems to be different from rain in the tropics. Tropical rain is commanding and resolute in its intensity; you know when it’s coming but wouldn't have an idea when it’s going to stop. Rain here is fitfully fickle, a flaky, shittily cold or annoyingly humid affair which is why Kiwis never really bother to put on a rain-coat or use an umbrella. I can’t count the number of times I would leave South Auckland dressed NOT to get wet, only to arrive in the central city just 30kms away to find sunshine and cloudless skies.
It’s stupid to say, but I miss a proper thunderstorm, a typhoon (already, I can hear my mother chiding me for wishing for something that could potentially kill us).
Normally, I would curl up in bed, with a book, or lately, with some movie, but the patter of rain outside- consistent throughout the day for once- now hardly offers reassuring comfort .
Today: Blah
You get those days when you just can’t be bothered. Thank God it’s a Friday- a short day- and I felt that I was on a hot seat, unable to be on it for more than 30 minutes at a time between more Zoom meetings, phone-calls, emails.
I tell myself, walking outside the deck to catch some sun, or going upstairs to bother Sam, contemplating on getting another espresso, or scooping some Indian Aloo Bhujia with my fingers out of the snack jar that 2pm was just within reach. Thank God I hadn’t opted out of my 37.5 for 40. There are some things that extra money can’t buy like a few hours of peace.
When 2pm came, I went straight to bed feeling I could use a nap, took off my Apple watch and thought of putting my phone on silent but then decided against it just in case my boss rang- fine, this one concession. He didn't but I couldn’t sleep anyway. Got out of bed at 4pm, made rice and wondered if ordering for KFC delivery two days in advance was stupid.
I kept checking my watch; in the past, I would get a text message 15 minutes before it was due to arrive with a tracking link for the delivery.
4:55; 4:59. I felt a twinge of irritation and worry. The delivery must have been fucked. Thank God I saved the order confirmation. Soup packets for dinner then?
And then a ping- the chicken was on its way.
YAY.
Day 32
The funny thing is that work-days spent at home are more satisfying than weekends when there’s really nothing to do. There’s no point waiting for the weekends to do laundry or to do chores which you can slot them in during the week. And I really hate sleeping in as it gives me a headache but it’s a struggle trying to wake up at 7:30am. I’ve been having intense dreams like everybody else and it gets harder to wake up when they go on and on.
I’m a movie-fan really I am. Show me one still image and I can tell you right away what movie its from. But today, I virtually watched Rogue One all over again (without skipping the parts as I usually do with movies I’ve already seen) because for the life me, I couldn’t even remember it. But I’m sure I’ve watched it before. Anyhow, it’s sad isn’t it?. Really sad. Sadder than Star Wars The Rise of Skywalker which I watched last night, rented on Apple TV. I enjoyed it in spite of the much publicised negative reviews. But the thing is, I’m invested in how a movie entertains me on whatever level, and not on why it’s made or who made it. I won’t ever be that geek who does reaction videos on Star Wars teasers and weeps uncontrollably.
So I get Martin Scorsese’s diss of Marvel movies because I would be too if I was a film-maker of his milieu. But I’m just a popular-culture consumer who can appreciate the high-brow and the low- like Marvel movies. After watching Rogue One I just had to fast-forward through Star Wars A New Hope just because I wanted to see the Death Star destroyed. In that sequence where Luke Skywalker flies through a corridor on the Death Star being pursued by his dad Darth Vader, I thought I saw something weird. So I paused it and took a photo and lo and behold it was this: Darth Vader’s eyes. For a moment I thought that it didn’t look like James Earl Jones then remembered that he only did the voice. The actor who played Darth Vader was English bodybuilder and character actor David Prowse.
Day 30
So I pretty much gave up having a leave day because it is what it is. It would’ve been easier if you could go away- not that I leave my gadgets at home which I don’t- but it would’ve been easier to step away from the screen to do something else.
I did finish painting the cupboard doors in the garage which was on our bigger things-to-do; did laundry, planned dinner, and still finished heaps of work. But I never have issues with work or chores- it’s when I saw an online ad for Gordon & Harris (an art-supplies shop) that there was that faint spark of wanting to do something creative. But $29 for a 59ml tube of (Golden brand) acrylic paint? Uhm, okay.
I would think that it’s kinda pricey so says the person who buys $250 jeans. But maybe it’s like the kind of advice offered to you when you’re struggling to clean out your closet: throw out the stuff you’ve never worn because chances are, you’ll never wear them again.
So the essential question is, should I give up on art? If you’ve never really found the time for it, then maybe it’s not for you.
But cooking is, for sure. We just had home-made carrot and potato soup tonight and grilled chicken-nibbles, nothing worth photographing really, but I made pansit sotanghon yesterday and this is what it looks like. Funny thing is, Pacific Islanders call it ‘chopsuey’ and it’s just vermicelli cooked in stock (or water) and seasoned with dark soy-sauce. My dad would turn in his grave if he was served this- the gold standard of how he made the sotanghon of our dreams is one that has chicken and chicken liver, fatty pork, prawns and black fungus mushroom and NO fucking celery. Yup- i hate the taste of celery in pansit (we’ve swapped out the celery with coriander which is actually more off-putting for most people).
I can’t remember if Pacific Island vermicelli/chopsuey has ginger- didn't put any in this one- but it’s harder to get that fuller flavour (I used chicken cubes as well) that you’d only get with chicken meat and pork-fat.
But once the starch breaks down (I often make the mistake of undercooking it) and the noodles absorb the fat (I used rice-bran oil) and the soy which has caramelised a bit, it doesn’t taste too bad.
Day 29: It pays to have 'two' birthdays
So the thing is, my actual legal birth certificate states that I was born on the 23rd of April when actually, I was born on the 22nd. It was a simple clerical error that my dad- a lawyer!!!- never bothered to change. And neither did I because I sure as hell didn't want to negotiate, er, navigate the processes and legalities necessary to change it.
So when it went onto my first passport, that was it- it’s the 23rd FOREVER. But I obviously try to celebrate on the actual date, so here we are- a two-day celebration.
I got these today from some co-worker friends- thanks Judy and Sarah!
Kinda touching that in spite of me not really trying to ‘make’ friends, I think I do have friends who know the things that I love, eat and use!
Some wishes for today (more like a to-do list actually)
That I start drawing and painting without thinking that I need another gadget to do it (upgrading from my ‘old’ iPad pro to the newer one + the floating keyboard).
Start on that novel/short-story collection
Abs! It’s there, I can see it, but I don’t know how to make it show or if I’d want to lose any more weight to get it.
Start driving and getting a license
Be able to visit New York (who knows when it’s actually safe to travel again).
That Trump LOSES in November. I really shouldn’t care, but deep inside I do.
That I learn something new and useful in the next 4 months.
Can’t think of anything more really- leave it up to God to make the rest happen
Day 27: Before you complain about courier fees for fancy cakes, read this
I was fired because of the Coronavirus
MIAMI — For the past year, I have cared for a 95-year-old woman. I went to her family’s home, watched TV with her, talked to her and gave her medication. We shared stories. I made her food: bread with butter or peanut butter. Noodle soup was her favorite. We made each other laugh.
On March 16, when I arrived at work, the woman’s daughter opened the door and pulled me aside to talk.
“I don’t want anybody to bring the virus into my house,” she said. “Friday will be your last day of work.”
She told me that she needed to have control over her home, her children and her mother.
“I don’t want any strangers coming in,” she said. That included me.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked.
“When everything is under control, I’ll call you,” she said. I haven’t heard from her since.
I considered myself to be part of her family. It hurt. My boss viewed me as an outsider — as a risk to her own health.
I live with my son, Emanuel, who is 6. Right now, we are just trying to survive. In my job, I made $80 per day. My hours were flexible. Sometimes I worked three days a week, sometimes four or five. When the family called me, I would go.
I never made enough to have savings. And I don’t know how I will find another job now. Very few businesses in Miami are hiring. Restaurants are open only for takeout and have laid off many of their workers. A friend told me that working for Amazon might be a possibility. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that working in a big warehouse with lots of other people could be a bad idea during a pandemic. I don’t have any health insurance and I can’t afford to get sick. Who would care for my son, especially now that his school has shut down? It just seemed too risky.
Rent for my apartment is $870 a month. It was due on April 1, but I wasn’t able to pay. I’ve never missed a payment before, and fortunately, my landlord has been understanding. She said that she would give me free time and I can pay her back when I find a job.
My family’s health is more important than anything right now. I am trying to stay positive, but I don’t know how much longer I will be able to live like this.
Last week I ran out of food. A friend who distributes food for domestic workers at the Miami Workers Center told me to come by. Now my son and I are eating canned soup, some small bags of rice, chicken and cans of tuna. They gave me milk, water and spaghetti. This food will last us for a week. It is just enough to get by.
The National Domestic Workers Alliance is raising money to support domestic workers who have lost their jobs because of the coronavirus. Many of us do not qualify for the federal stimulus that is sending out checks to workers because we are not United States citizens. The alliance’s goal is to raise $4 million for 10,000 care workers, which will amount to $400 per person. Hopefully this money will arrive within a week. While this is a help, it won’t last long. First I’ll buy food, then use whatever is left over to pay part of my rent to my landlord.
The virus highlights how much domestic workers need protections, just like everyone else. Many nannies, house cleaners and other domestic workers are not entitled to severance pay, paid sick leave, health and unemployment insurance or other benefits that would help us survive this pandemic.
Every day I wake up and worry about what will happen the next day, the next week. I don’t know how I will make it through. For now, I am living day to day.
But I keep faith. Everything happens for a reason. Maybe the coronavirus will teach us that we need to change the system that views domestic workers like me as disposable. We still have time to change.
We need everyone to treat domestic workers like human beings. We deserve respect and a seat at the table. Our work has value. Without us, you cannot do your jobs. Just as we need you to survive, you need us.
(Published in its entirety from the New York Times; By Melissa L. St. Hilaire- Ms. St. Hilaire is a home care aide. She told her story to Devi Lockwood, a fellow in the Times Opinion section).