Stream of consciousness
The littlest things can make me cry nowadays.
A visit to my favorite coffee shop on Thursday, the first time in more than four months, is one of those things. It was also my first dine-in experience, a semblance of pre-pandemic normalcy, since the hurried implementation of the lockdown then the eventual easing of restrictions.
I still remember that afternoon so vividly: As soon as I stepped outside our condominium building to walk to the office, the rain poured. I was dressed, and my backpack was full of work paraphernalia. I couldn’t allow myself to let a potentially productive afternoon pass. To go back home was to risk being distracted by clutter that was taking up both physical and psychological space.
My feet dragged me to a spot I frequented during pre-pandemic work nights, a haven for when I needed to decompress and re-align my thoughts. Despite financial worries, I went inside to find a familiar comfort. ‘Twas serendipitous, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
On the counter stood a petite female barista with whom I’ve been acquainted as a regular customer. “Ma’am Cherry, nakikilala n’yo pa ako?” she asked after punching my order of a mushroom-and-cheese pita (a new offering) and a large cup of latte (not my usual drink).
“Oo naman. Kukumustahin nga dapat kita kaso nag-alangan ako kasi baka di mo na ako kilala.”
Too many things have happened lately, one issue snowballing into another — the government’s pandemic response, or the lack thereof; and the ABS-CBN franchise denial. The mental burden of being a Filipino is sometimes too much to bear. When life seems dark for far too long all it takes is a glimmer of light, to hope again. The short exchange with a woman I barely knew was more than enough to enliven my spirit.
It’s music that provides me company during these moments, expressing what I can’t. During the past week, these songs helped me cope:
- Passenger’s Venice Canals, which reminds me how the collective experience of humanity amid this global health crisis brings us together, hopefully with more understanding and empathy;
I know there’s pain and suffering
You can feel the tension in the air
But they can see the stars shine in Beijing
And hear the birdsong in Times Square
I know you’re feeling insecure
From all this change that’s come to pass
But the sky is blue in Singapore
And they can smell the ocean in Belfast
Don’t get me wrong, this ain’t no happy song
There’s nothing you can hold onto for now
But when you’re feeling low, my dear
Just know the water’s crystal clear
And the fish are swimming in the Venice canals - Lily Allen’s Little Things, that encapsulates the heartbreak and willing denial of reality among us, ABS-CBN employees;
Dreams, dreams
Of when we had just started things
Dreams of you and me
It seems, it seems
That I can’t shake those memories
I wonder if you have the same dreams, too
The littlest things that take me there
I know it sounds lame but it’s so true
I know it’s not right, but it seems unfair
The things are reminding me of you
Sometimes I wish we could just pretend
Even if for only one weekend
So come on, tell me
Is this the end? - Adventure Time’s Time Adventure, which pushes me to look past our present circumstances and find hope in the gift of hindsight that the future holds; and
Time is an illusion that helps things make sense
So we are always living in the present tense
It seems unforgiving when a good thing ends
But you and I will always be back then
You and I will always be back then
Singing: will happen, happening, happened
Will happen, happening, happened
And we’ll happen again and again
‘Cause you and I will always be back then
You and I will always be back then - Kotomi and Ryan Elder’s Don’t Look Back from the season finale of Rick and Morty, that calls for acceptance for what I can’t control.
I know you tried
I know you tried your best
And now it’s time to put this all to rest
Minutes pass and those days seem long ago
A distant voice
One that I used to know
There’s a voice and it’s trying to drag me down, down
If you go then I’m going with you now
Don’t look back
Nothing left to see
Just leave the shadows in the past
If I let it go
Can I shake this feeling?
Pillows of gray clouds have been hovering since morning, and the raindrops are finally drumming down and crescendoing, like sparkles on the cement. The trickling of water reminds me of a night early this week when I watched a Netflix series that was far from being dramatic.
“100 Humans” is a social experiment show where a hundred individuals across gender identities, age groups, ethnicities, and professional backgrounds are subjected to interactive tests exploring what makes a human.
In one part of the episode on “pain and pleasure”, an experiment aimed to find whether people perform better with praise or criticism.
A group of volunteers had to learn to spin plates. Then, they were judged by an expert for their performance. The results showed that even the worst plate-spinners in the group drastically improved their performance when given positive feedback, while the best plate-spinners got way worse after receiving harsh criticism.
The entire sequence shoved me back to my childhood when whatever I did, and no matter how better my test scores fared compared to the rest of my class, I was never enough.
To this day, I carry that feeling of inadequacy like an invisible creature sitting on my shoulders. Though I’ve gotten callous enough to not be burdened by it as much anymore, it’s still there, much like the Game of Thrones’ Walk of Shame, telling me words I don’t need to hear. •