Not Bali, Just Tuesday

Jet Lag, Jewels, and a Five-Star Salad

Crossing the ocean means skipping airplane food for five-star salads and trading sleep for 2:30 AM Zoom calls. This isn’t a vacation—it’s a life wrapped in diamonds, deadlines, and jet lag.

Crossed the Pacific.

Skipped the chicken.

Cashmere peeled off like old skin—

Humidity brews like a jealous lover.

Driver finds me.

One suitcase.

Two laptops.

Three phones.

No questions.

Only tinted windows and a blur of city

that smells like mangoes and traffic.

Pass Jollibee.

Red bee, wide smile.

Two-dollar meal,

Didn’t eat.

Not yet.

This one runs on schedule.

Home,

Away from home.

Floors mopped,

Sheets boiled,

Closet already full—

Half gowns, half heatwave.

Labels whisper in silk:

“Tonight, or tomorrow?”

Warm shower.

Unpack in precision.

Fifty personal items already shelved—

None I brought.

All mine.

Sunscreen armor.

Garden air.

Jet lag tea brewed from California dreams.

Afternoon nap until the maid calls dinner.

I heard her voice before I opened my eyes.

She does the dishes when I’m done.

Work inbox:

U.S. and AU time check.

Calendar gaslights me by a day.

2:30 AM Zoom.

1:30 AM makeup.

Winged liner. Gem studs.

Boss glow, even in insomnia.

Read.ai sends notes.

Beauty sleep scheduled.

Wake at 7:30 sharp.

Pick a diamond like cereal.

Garden again.

Ten minutes to practice handwriting—

OCD in cursive.

Then a book.

Then an article.

Then draw a building that will outlive us all.

Client call, Tagalog and English.

Lunch at Okada—

A five-star salad.

BGC shopping follows,

Where America hides

behind guards and aircon.

Back by five.

Another shower.

A real formal dress.

Another glow-up.

I still haven’t eaten.

Night falls.

Socialite orbit.

Champagne. Flashbulbs.

Small talk with big consequences.

Smile polished for cameras.

Eyes sharper than stilettos.

A different tomorrow.

No one to explain to.

No one to ask why.

Only calendars, closets,

and the hum of a city

that lets me live

exactly like this.