A whiff of summer

It was warm today, very warm. An almost tropical-like 22 degrees.

When you hear of climate change, it seems inconceivable to think of temperatures so unbearable that it goes beyond being annoyed that your armpits are soaked; that your face and head are oily; that your thighs are sticking to each other.

Even as recent as the mid-2000s, I was already consciously reconfiguring my life around the heat; most of my clothes were Nikes as they had that sweat-wicking fabric; I secretly had baby powder pressed inside a hanky to absorb the oil on my face, not to mention the habit of washing my face at least five times a day. But of course, I only realised later that the best remedy was to leave the tropics altogether for a country with a temperate climate.

Auckland however can still get hot, but just enough that makes you think- shall we shell out $$$ for an AC? But not yet. We hope, maybe not in the next 5 years, two?

When the sun drops, so does the temperature to 10 or 8 degrees and that is still cold for me. Rare are the nights when it gets so humid that you end up in your underwear (I can’t remember a time that I DID NOT use the duvet which I still use 24/7).

Anyhow, enjoy the pleasantness while it lasts.

The lockdown goes on

I should feel terrible when I say, I don’t really care if lockdown goes on and on. And on.

When you’re fine and comfortable, someone out there is suffering, or worse, getting crazy- because they’re crazy to begin with- and only waiting for that trigger.

Which could be anything- the lockdown; their spouse’s nagging; the All Blacks losing; or a two-hour wait for KFC. Again.

The whole world is triggered and you have to watch out for your own triggers, and I do have mine. I spent the entire Sunday, cleaning and putting things in order as if my life depended on it. I ironed, dusted, vacuumed, sorted my clothes (a feat in itself); took stock of what was in the freezer, made a meal plan, did laundry and even managed to sketch a portrait of Lily which I didn't finish; I was using water-colour pens which can be a bit limiting. I also managed to exercise and watch two episodes of my current favourite show on Apple TV and all before bedtime at 9:30pm.

If that wasn’t being productive (if not verging on being OCD), I don’t know what is.

You can choose how you’re triggered is all I’m saying. And more importantly, you can find a way to cope with the current situation, and if you can’t, ask for help.

Multi-tasking. Sunday night. In bed

Can’t commit to watching new movies so I watch stuff I’ve seen before. In the opening sequence of ‘The Wild’, the 2014 film starring Reese Witherspoon, she takes off her hiking boots to inspect her bloodied foot. I wince, cover my eyes partly with my hand as she pries off a toe-nail and screams. The pain causes her to jerk, knocking the boot she has taken off tumbling into the cliff below. She looks at it in disbelief and seized with rage and frustration, she throws the other pair off the cliff and screams bitch.

I want to scream too when I bump into doorways and table edges because I’m either wrapped up in thought, or that my eyes are not working properly like they used to. I also want to scream when I put my glasses on and see everything up close in their gory, chaotic detail; the sinks that are always wet because they’re cheap and designed poorly and water collects on the surface; the shavings of hair pooled around the drain that I never could quite wash off.

Chicken. I prefer the darker thigh meat, but when we have breasts, my favourite way to cook it is a variation of lemon piccata, but without the capers. You dredge the breasts in flour, pan-fry them a bit until browned, melt about 220 grams of butter- yup, that much - in a pan with garlic, take the garlic out before they burn, put the chicken back in with a cup and a half of lemon juice and some chicken stock, leave to simmer for about 30 minutes until the liquid reduces to this golden, buttery syrup.

Now I have to try a different recipe for a change. Here’s a NY Times recipe for pineapple-marinated chicken breasts.

The landscape changes to spruce and pine. There are patches of snow up and ahead and about 3 miles up, a blanket of new snow glistens in the sun. In her camp, kneeling in snow, Cheryl looks up and sees a fox watching her with what she thinks are human-like eyes. A shaft of sun on the animal gives the illusion that its yellow-red pelt is on fire.

I want a puffer jacket. I have every fall-winter garment available except for a puffer jacket. The only problem is that it never really gets that cold in Auckland and there wouldn’t be much of a chance to wear it.

In the TV series, Little Big Lies, Reese and Laura Dern are friends who look like their ages are not that far off. In The Wild, they play daughter and mother.

I want to make lemon curd. In the microwave.

“We are never prepared for what we expect”

— James Michener & Cheryl Strayed

Lockdown part 5

Life wouldn’t be without its biggest moaners, so really thankful that I’m still suspended from Twitter because I’d be sticking my unwanted opinions in if I had the chance.

It won’t be the same, but here it is anyway:

1. To that Papatoetoe family who claimed to not have received 15 text/email messages from the government, you’re all a bunch of FUCKING GODDAMNED LIARS.

2. To those Indians caught playing cricket in the park during lockdown and claiming they didn’t hear anything or couldn’t understand what the government is saying, you’re all a bunch of FUCKING GODDAMNED LIARS.

3. To the Republican Party, hope you all catch Covid and….(see? This is why I was suspended)

A list

1. 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.

2. 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.

3. 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?

4. 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.

5. 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.

6. 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.

Acting cash...

Clae sneakers; Tight Terry Nudie jeans; Country Road cable half-zip knit.

Acting mature

Cole-Haan Zerogrand wingtip oxfords; Barkers wool pants; Kathmandu Merino Awanui Men's Pullover

Acting southside...

Nike Flyknit trainers; Tight Terry Nudie jeans; Kmart jacket

Acting young-ish

Nike Epic React Flyknit 2; I Love Ugly Anton Track pants; Country Road sherpa jacket

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.

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.

Bacon

We buy the supermarket-branded kind and it’s actually good and cheap

Bacon and eggs

..with cold 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 .

Nasi Goreng

Instant gratification with three hard-boiled eggs

Comfort food

A day made for my favourite Hainanese chicken-rice

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.

Taking the DJI Ronin S out of the closet

I just remembered that I needed to try out if the Nikon Z6 was compatible with this gimbal

Turns out it is compatible

And while I couldn’t completely remember how to put everything together, a quick look on Youtube does the trick

There's a new Ronin in town

And it’s called the Ronin SC, and for a moment I got that familiar stupid sense of panic called, my-device-is-obsolete

But there was no cause for alarm

Apparently, the Ronin SC follows what i think to be DJI’s a shift of design into materials that are lighter and cheaper (plastic). As a result, the newer gimbal is really meant for lighter cameras which the Z6 is not especially with the hefty 24-70mm lens

All I needed were a year's worth of updates

..will be testing tomorrow

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.