Losing my notebook

As a young reporter in Cebu city, I did not cover City Hall. That beat used to belong to Sol, who always landed in the banner headline almost everyday. I did not cover Capitol, either. That beat belonged to Michelle, who also used to grab the headlines with Sol. I did not, could not cover the police beat, supposed to be the training ground for young reporters. Instead, I was made to cover the business and economic beat, not because I was a smart ass but because no one my age and fresh from school would dare cover such a beat. In fact, the one covering it was Pops, an octogenarian so aloof I was afraid of him. I treated him like a sage. He always had sums of money, running in the millions, on his head. I knew it because that was always what came out of his mouth when he stood talking with presidents of the Chamber, another scary thing I had to contend with. Pops used to wear a gray beret that covered his balding head. It gave him an air of style and prominence.

Reporters my age used to describe the business beat as difficult, boring, full of economic jargons one can't understand, numbers, figures, charts. How can you make a story out of mere charts and numbers, no narrative, from BIR, from SEC, or from Neda? But my editor taught me how to make the numbers talk. 

Even during those times, I already had the ability to sit straight quietly and listen as somebody explained to me the workings of the Norwegian ship.   Maybe, it was a result of some neglect I might have suffered in childhood because I could sit there for hours listening to a farfetched subject without complaining. Towards the end of the day, I would hurry back to the newsroom to write the story. My business editor would be waiting for it, as if it were a matter of life and death. She would ask as soon as I opened the door, "So, what's your story?" and I would stare at her, mouth open.

So, I'd never open the door again if I was not sure of the story. 

Our newsroom was on the second floor, so even before I could take the stairs, I would be composing the lead  and two supporting paragraphs in my head to give her a ready answer. Sometimes, I would go to the toilet before opening the newsroom door. The toilet was just near the newsroom door. You can write your lead and two supporting paragraphs in the toilet. 

I was still a dreamy-eyed and clumsy young reporter then. I never actually fully understood what was going on with my life. 

One afternoon, after spending long hours with Norwegian engineers piloting a shipping project in the city, I was already three steps to the newsroom door when I realised I no longer had my notes with me. I panicked. Where could have I left my notebook? Did I drop it in the jeepney? I was about to go back to chase the jeepney when I realised--how could I do that?! There were lots of jeepneys plying the city. How would I know which was the one I was riding? 

So, right then and there, I tried to recall the story. I loved those Norwegians so much. Just like me, they'd be easily dismissed as boring and they never spoke English that fast. They spoke English slowly, as unsure as I was. I could ask them over and over again about the basic concept of their machine and they'd never tire explaining it to me. So, more or less, I already had the story in my head. I can even approximate a quotation, knowing their Norwegian English well. Yes, it was really, really painful to retrieve jottings from a lost notebook in your own mind. It was hell. The story made it to the business page's banner headline the following day. But from then on, I really made sure not to lose my notebook again. 

 

Davao's changing skyline

 

Growing Rainbow in a pot

 

I'm growing the Rainbow tree in a pot in one corner of the terrace. I'm growing Rainbow in a pot. The pot with the growing Rainbow is in my terrace. I go there everyday--in the morning to water it and later, in the midst of my editing works, when I could no longer bear the tangle of verbs and nouns and phrases and feel I would suffocate, I'd knock at Sean's room to let me go to the terrace to see the Rainbow plant growing there. At different times of day, I invent excuses to go to the terrace to see the Rainbow tree growing. I'd like to bring it to my room so that I could sleep with it near my bed, if the Rainbow could take so much stress of being carried to my room inside the pot, its stem and leaves swaying before I could finally put it down on the floor. 

Working high up in the air [Flash Back Series 1]

 Have you ever tried working while you were high up on air? There was a beautiful sunset at your window but you can't even look out and down because you had to catch the deadline? 

It was crazy but that really happened to me. It was just like an experience of being there and not being there at the same time. 

On my way back to Davao, I was still in the airport in Cebu when some breaking news happened somewhere in the town of Datu Hoffer, Maguindanao del Sur. Four soldiers were ambushed on their way to the public market--or was it on their way home? The desk needed the story asap and I had to file it, by hook or by crook. It was lucky that the reporter was already in the area sending the story.  I needed to process it before deadline time. It happened that my flight would arrive at the next airport precisely at deadline time, so that meant I should be doing the actual editing right on the plane. So, there I was, boarding the flight, editing the story while the plane traversed the ocean at 150,000 feet altitude. I could not describe what I felt. It was like I was holding some fragile thing that I had no control of and anything wrong could happen any time--.

I thought about it now and I realised that the fragile thing I was thinking about was actually my life.

Growing a penis

You should have seen me the other day, my first day as a Blue Collar. I climbed the construction ladder and installed the cork screw somewhere near the rooftop. I didn't even know if that was called a cork screw or a hook screw, I have to ask Ja again. Ja has become my capatas. I elected him to that post because I said I had to learn to do things right before it was too late. 

He was a bit wary because he knew me as quite rebellious and unruly, someone "too argumentative," he doubted if I could even follow a simple instruction. But I told him my secret. I said I wanted to be a man doing some real manly job. I was already sick and tired of being a woman, I was totally done with it, I said. I even dragged him to the Ace Hardware to buy that ladder, the kind I saw being used by construction workers. It cost P2,999.95 and I told him it would be an investment for the future. He stared at me. To prove to him that I was serious, I even tried the ladder myself. I took off my shoes and asked the sales staff if I could climb it to see if I won't fall. I did not tell them that I had fear of heights. I climbed fast and made it straight to the sixth step, where I suddenly felt my chest tighten, my breath shortening. I could feel some tingling somewhere in my legs and my hands would have begun to shake and lost its grip but I tried to calm my hands down. I said, take it easy hands, you are the ones holding on to the ladder.

I managed to climb down and we began to ask if the ladder was too heavy to carry. They took the ones still wrapped in plastics and handed it to us. It was very light. You could just tie a red ribbon around it and gift it to me on Mother's Day. Karl should have handed it to me [instead of the chocolates he hurriedly bought from Seven Eleven], saying, Happy Mother's Day, Ma! I would have been so happy!

But the ladder cost that much. When I was about to pay, Ja again gave me that look. He dragged me outside the store and told me he would just borrow one from the staff of the hotel. 

So, early morning the following day, he brought in the borrowed construction ladder, already weather-beaten and well-used, with splotches of paint all over it. 

The whole morning, I was installing hook screws on the beam near the roof of the apartment terrace. It was quite a balancing act, another skill to master. When I was up there on its uppermost rung, I can't just move any way I wanted to because it was very easy to lose your balance.  Ja said he never expected me to be a good worker. He said I could follow instruction well and learned very fast. He said I would really thrive as a Blue Collar. Maybe, one day, I may even grow a penis.

I also installed lightbulbs on the ceiling--and all while the electric switches were on. We did not know whether the switches were off or on, so I told Ja it was better to pull down the plank because it was safer. But he would not do that. It was too much a bother for him to cut all electricity in the house, even for just a few minutes while I installed the bulbs. So, I would still be turning the bulb with my hands to install it in its socket when suddenly, it would light up. That's when we knew the switch was on. Every time that happens--lights lighting up the bulb I was holding in my hands, I would panic. The same feeling I get when it was already past deadline and the Manila desk was already asking for the story, but the story was nowhere to be found because of some missing crucial details that I still had to extract from sources who would not even answer the phone. That's the way it felt.

You should have seen me climb the ladder. It was a real milestone for me, a real social climb. We've already returned it when I realised I should have taken photo of me in it. I should have taken a real Selfie. 

But now, I'm at my desk, forcing myself to write. I can't write.