I have to put it on record that I've finally cleaned my room today. I have begun sorting my things out and putting them in order. This is for me such a great achievement, considering how crazy and stressful my schedules (and my struggles) had been in the last nine months. Now that 2019 is about to end, I have decided to take things really easy, to just take one step at a time, to not strain myself too much; to not demand too much of myself, to just be good and forgiving to myself.
Things that make me smile: my peppermint and rosemary have been doing well. I've cleaned the refrigerator and now, I'm eating figs bought from Majid's Kabab while reading Karl Ove Knausgaard's My Struggle, volume 3 alone in my room!
Monday, November 25, 2019
Wednesday, October 30, 2019
On our way to Dumaguete
take the Cokaliong boat which leaves Cebu city at 12 pm.
Wednesday, October 02, 2019
Roommate
They would always look for proofs and so, I would deliver these from the ceiling. They would also ask for testimonies and in that case, I would bring them Carol dela Cruz who used to live in a room next to mine, who got fired by the call center where she worked so, she was spending long hours at the dorm watching TV at our common dining hall. Sometimes, I'd find her there, designing and stitching a gown for one of the roommates who was expecting a party with her Boss. I never knew she could sew but she said she can, her mother was a seamstress, she was born with a needle in her mouth and she grew up designing gowns and dresses.
In fact, she was able to come up with a gown, using only her bare hands. She didn't have a sewing machine at the dorm; no one was allowed to. Even the volume of our clothes and other belongings was closely monitored by Big Brother. She had a boyfriend who flattered her exceedingly on her cell phone. Other people did not like her because sometimes she nagged the guard to change the container of the water dispenser, acting like a mayordoma of the place. The water dispenser already ran out of water (we were not allowed to change these, ourselves), so she scolded the guard, who was always sleepless and overworked and that was how she pissed off the rest of the roommates.
But when I was about to go to the airport, I dropped a hint that it would be perfect for her to accompany me. She was aware that I had been packing for days. That I never had enough sleep, that I never had breakfast nor lunch that day and that my flight was at 3 pm. That I was too tired from all the packing; that I ended up throwing away my things because they would no longer fit into my luggage. That I would have wanted to bring along my tumbler and my reading lamp and my mug as a souvenir of my stay at the place but still, I ended up throwing them because they wouldn't fit my luggage. I just made it a point never to throw away the books that I'd accumulated from my almost-two-year stay there and so, I sent them by courier. The LBC girl who was so snotty and strict the previous day noticed that I kept coming back for more books to send, saw the haggard look on my face and suddenly turned gentle and helpful.
But I was simply too tired and too stressed out to go to the airport, I felt I would collapse. "How about if you'd go with me? Just take a little stroll?" I asked Carol. "But I don't have any money for fare," she said. "Don't worry about that, I'd shoulder it," I said. That fired up her imagination and she said, "Okay, I just want to take a look at the airport."
She was a really heaven sent on our way to the airport. I swore I could never have lifted my heavy luggages, there were just too many of them, without her. I wouldn't have been able to negotiate with the people to carry our luggages down the dorm to the Grab taxi, I wouldn't have been able to spot the Grab, she was really a perfect Doña Carolina, everybody obeyed her; she was perfect for the role. I was already crushing under the weight of my emotions but she was the one who brought us both to the nearest McDo at the airport to grab a bite. She even brought me to the chapel while I tried so hard to keep awake.
In fact, she was able to come up with a gown, using only her bare hands. She didn't have a sewing machine at the dorm; no one was allowed to. Even the volume of our clothes and other belongings was closely monitored by Big Brother. She had a boyfriend who flattered her exceedingly on her cell phone. Other people did not like her because sometimes she nagged the guard to change the container of the water dispenser, acting like a mayordoma of the place. The water dispenser already ran out of water (we were not allowed to change these, ourselves), so she scolded the guard, who was always sleepless and overworked and that was how she pissed off the rest of the roommates.
But when I was about to go to the airport, I dropped a hint that it would be perfect for her to accompany me. She was aware that I had been packing for days. That I never had enough sleep, that I never had breakfast nor lunch that day and that my flight was at 3 pm. That I was too tired from all the packing; that I ended up throwing away my things because they would no longer fit into my luggage. That I would have wanted to bring along my tumbler and my reading lamp and my mug as a souvenir of my stay at the place but still, I ended up throwing them because they wouldn't fit my luggage. I just made it a point never to throw away the books that I'd accumulated from my almost-two-year stay there and so, I sent them by courier. The LBC girl who was so snotty and strict the previous day noticed that I kept coming back for more books to send, saw the haggard look on my face and suddenly turned gentle and helpful.
But I was simply too tired and too stressed out to go to the airport, I felt I would collapse. "How about if you'd go with me? Just take a little stroll?" I asked Carol. "But I don't have any money for fare," she said. "Don't worry about that, I'd shoulder it," I said. That fired up her imagination and she said, "Okay, I just want to take a look at the airport."
She was a really heaven sent on our way to the airport. I swore I could never have lifted my heavy luggages, there were just too many of them, without her. I wouldn't have been able to negotiate with the people to carry our luggages down the dorm to the Grab taxi, I wouldn't have been able to spot the Grab, she was really a perfect Doña Carolina, everybody obeyed her; she was perfect for the role. I was already crushing under the weight of my emotions but she was the one who brought us both to the nearest McDo at the airport to grab a bite. She even brought me to the chapel while I tried so hard to keep awake.
Old Photograph
Thursday, September 12, 2019
Curious Life
This was a portrait of my life on May 27, 2018, the exact date this image was taken. I lived here for almost a year even if I never really wanted to go to this particular city because I never knew what to expect here. But somebody said I had to come here to get a job because there was no job opening in the place where I lived. So, I tried to make do with myself here. I never knew I could survive months in this tiny space with just a reading lamp, books and my cellular phone to keep me company--but I did! (Well, of course, I only lie down here after work; so, that's not exactly accurate. I only had a few hours to lie down in this tiny space every day).
Now, when I look back to my life here, I remember all the New Yorker magazines that I've read, all the podcasts that I listened to, the Toni Morrisons and those folded The New York Times on my cluttered bed? Yes, it was such a rich reading life (though, I felt so detached, headless, without my boys).
And minus what I've been going through at my workplace, this tiny space actually brings me good memories, good vibes when I think about it now.
But at my workplace, it was different. I'm writing that experience, though, because what use would that experience be if I couldn't mine it for a story?
Now, when I look back to my life here, I remember all the New Yorker magazines that I've read, all the podcasts that I listened to, the Toni Morrisons and those folded The New York Times on my cluttered bed? Yes, it was such a rich reading life (though, I felt so detached, headless, without my boys).
And minus what I've been going through at my workplace, this tiny space actually brings me good memories, good vibes when I think about it now.
But at my workplace, it was different. I'm writing that experience, though, because what use would that experience be if I couldn't mine it for a story?
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