twenty-first after nine

I love you and your little quirks, your seemingly silly but shrewd dreams. The way you frolic innocently whenever you tease and coax your mischief into charm overwhelms me with both frustration and wonder. I love you, not how they describe it in books or movies, but how you live in every piece of literature that I write. I wish we could live the lives of the characters that I create. But, our countless arguments and constant contradictions prove that we are bound to make mistakes and that we are wrong sometimes.

I love you for not always agreeing with me, for pushing me to my limits, for holding my hand during those times. I love you and the certain slyness of your little dark side, how it scares, confuses and thrills me at the same time. You've always loved me with all the hundred different persons that I am. I love you without reason or doubt, in a hundred different ways, in between who we are and what we will become.


~~September 21, 2013

lately (not really)

Lately, I’ve been browsing the Inquirer and Vera Files websites for news since I’m too lazy to stay in our apartment’s living room to watch the TV’s daily. Inquirer overwhelms me with a variety of its stories and somehow I find their website now more confusing than before. So, I just kept my verafiles.org tab open and browsed for something more interesting -- less of the hardcore political news and more of the feature-ish stories to bring in the good vibes. And guess what I ended up doing? I cried. Well, I really am a cry baby and I admit, mababaw talaga ang luha ko.

I was actually reading these series of articles about the late Ma’am Simbulan and I came across about her friends, colleagues and students recalling how great a person she was. The stories spoke of her passion for journalism, her calm disposition and her ever dearly ways. She was my professor in my J121 class, The Newsroom. Our lessons were handled lightly; it seemed like less of the lecturing and more of the story telling with the facts. I liked the way she taught and how she made me feel less stressed because of her calm aura and, as I call it, motherly feel.

But above all these, what makes it more sad that she had already left us is the fact that she was a great journalist, someone to be emulated in the profession, someone who did what she wanted in life.

Well, I’ve always wanted to become a teacher when I was in grade school while the other kids dreamt of becoming a doctor, an astronaut or an engineer. But my first love really is writing, writing not journalism. Eventually, I fell for theater but I dated journalism. I dated it for four long years, enduring all the late nights of staring in front of a computer with a blank document and the cursor blinking, waiting for the first few words to form the lead of a story. Journalism is a grueling course because it would not only make your head burn with what words to use but it will consume your time and your energy and it can exhaust you physically. In Journalism, you don’t memorize formulas or spend the nights in laboratories observing things or solving machine problems. In Journalism, you go out into the world and find the problems, the issues, and write about it so the people will be more aware and life will make more sense. You talk to people from different walks of life while leaving behind your own biases. You go to places where you don’t know what’s in store for you. You run after people and stories which are as fleeting as a school of fish on a full moon. As I always say, Journalism is not for the faint-hearted. It is for the bold but not careless; it is for the fierce but not the proud and most importantly it is for someone who has a passion for the truth and the love for the profession.

Yes, I do love Journalism. I am proud to be a Journalism graduate and I will always be. But life sometimes will lead you to roads unexpected. Before I took up my internship, I promised myself I wouldn’t want to end up in a newspaper organization for the summer. But as luck had it, I found myself as an intern in one of the top broadsheets in the country. However, I admit, my stay at the Philippine Daily Inquirer was all worth it and it was actually the best summer I ever had. Yeah, too cliche’ but it really was and the experience made me think twice about my future plans. Well, my family, friends and other relatives expect me to work either in a newspaper or a television network. But then, in the summer of 2011, I fell deeply in love with Psychology that somehow I forgot about my own course. I planned to work for the mainstream media for at least two years then take up a master’s degree in Psychology abroad. But my parents always have a say in my decisions and sometimes it’s better to just listen to them because I have an external locus of control, if you know what I mean. Anyway, by the end of October that same year, I graduated with a degree in Journalism. I bummed for a month and decided to look for work by the end of November.

Eventually, I found myself in the middle of job interviews and assessments. To cut the story short, I ended up with my job today.

Funny how things always turn out for me. I may sound like a hypocrite again but yes, for the second time, I am doing something I said I wouldn’t. I’ve always known that I wouldn’t want to work in an office and I’ve always told myself, my friends and others around me that I really don’t want to be stuck in a desk with the computer beaming against my face whole day long. I’ve always wanted action, adventure, surprises, risks and most importantly I’ve always wanted to learn outside the boxed life. I want to be with people, talk to people and create whole new experiences. But really, look where I am now? But I don’t regret taking this job and it’s my decision, something that I stood up for because I wanted it.

This is sounding really mushy now but my point really is that…well, "Life is a box of chocolates…you’ll never know what you’ll get."

One thing life has taught me is that you cannot plan everything because you can’t be sure of anything. There are things that are temporary-- like maybe the ice cream flavor I love now, I may hate when I get old; or maybe I’d eventually eat cucumber even though I’ve hated it for the longest time; or even my job could be considered temporary. These simple things matter, maybe not really, because at the end of the day it’s the experience that’s important….how you felt eating your favorite ice cream flavor after a hefty meal, or your family having a good time teasing you about being the only person who doesn’t eat cucumber, or the friends you made at work, whom you’ve always had a good time with during lunch breaks.

Things change, they always do…even people. Whenever you fall, fall gracefully, pick something up and stand up like nothing has happened. Let go. Move on. When you’re happy, be genuinely happy. Live in the moment but never dwell in it that you forget you’re supposed to keep moving forward. And like what they say, never let praise get into your head nor criticism get to your heart. Most importantly, always bloom wherever you are planted.


*wrote this last April 17, 2013. I faintly remember why I wrote this but I know I was in the stage of “getting used to” again.

we are all different, the same

We are all a little broken inside.

This is something I’ve learned. It’s ok to be broken. It’s ok to have frustrations, failures, unhappy endings.

It’s ok to lose, to not get what we want, to be stuck in a moment. It’s perfectly fine. This is what makes us human after all.

Nobody can live a perfect life because we can’t live outside the confines of other people.

People will lie to us, hurt us and make us feel unworthy.

Even families can do this to their own. I’ve listened to my friends’ stories of abandonment, of children out of wedlock, of children who will never know their mothers or fathers, of children who were abused in different forms.

I’ve listened to peoples’ stories of infidelities, of being the other woman, of being the one left behind, of home wreckers, of homes wrecked, of broken vows and broken families.

I learned about love and everything else about it that makes us the most irrational of all beings. I believe that love is one of truest and most important things in our humanity. But we often use it as ironically as it is defined. We become selfish, we expect, we assume, we suspect, we accuse. We use the idea of love to justify lying and bend our moralities. We learn to give up things and people, values and beliefs. At the end of the day, we can only say that all we did was love.

Money, achievement, social status, success. We are all so obsessed by these things. Some would argue about how others are faring well in their careers when they were of the same schools, educational background and intellectual abilities. Others would say that they could’ve also become as successful only if they had what they had. We obsess over these things because we believe they are what define us a person. We want to succeed not only for ourselves but more so for others to see. We want others to see that we are successful, we became this and that. But actually, we only want others’ approval, respect and esteem. Some just want to be recognized; others just want to feel they belong and that they are accepted, appreciated. And if we don’t get these, we feel hopeless and broken again.

We live in constant fear. We fear that we will die unhappy with all the brokenness inside us.

Life would always get even the best of us. But we were all equipped with the strength and courage, although at varying degrees, to overcome the hurdles we all fear to face. I believe in humanity and that we are all capable of living a full life. We are all innately capable of success if we only allow ourselves to believe that we are.

We may all be a little broken inside but we are all braver than we think. We will get past whatever we may be going through right now. There is always something, no matter how small, that we can do.

May it be in a God, in yourself, in others, or in humanity – all we need is a little faith.

You are Beautiful (no matter what they say)

I was once an insecure and condescending critic of others’ bodies. I crossed the yellow lane, walked past that and got to the other side.

A month or so ago, I randomly saw a friend’s post on Facebook that got me thinking for weeks and urged me to finally write this.

It was a video titled, “Actress Jessica Rey: The Godly Truth About Bikinis”. It was basically a Christian talk by the actress, Jessica Rey, about how bikinis are shaping our minds and bodies in terms of the socially constructed standards of modern beauty.

As she had mentioned in the video clip and as narrated by fashion historians, bikini was the term coined by Louis Réard to describe a new kind of beach costume being worked on by fashion designer Jacques Heim in 1946. The term was taken from “Bikini Atoll”, one of the series of islands in the South Pacific where the testing of the new atomic bomb took place. With its “very revealing” nature that time, the term bikini was used to create much stir and surprise among people similar to that of the reactions to the atomic bomb that hit Japan the previous summer.

Jessica Rey also talked about what women, then and now, wore on the beach or pool areas. She admits wearing bikinis before but eventually switched to more modest swim wear as inspired by the legendary beauty and fashion icon, Audrey Hepburn. She argues that women don’t have to wear skimpy clothes just to look and feel beautiful or sexy. She introduced her own creations of beach wear that are as charming and lovely as bikinis but are surprisingly stylish and modest.

Although this was posted in relation to the Christian faith, I still believe there are a lot of underlying issues and pervasive social pressures among women associated with a seemingly trivial thing such as bikinis.

I was never a fan of bikinis. I don’t mind other people wearing them but not myself. Well, don’t get me wrong, I’ve worn a bikini top before although those times I was still confined within the comforts of my friend’s company. But that’s as far as I went. I admit that I wasn’t confident with my own body before. I’m obviously petite and my vital statistics doesn’t necessarily scream “beach bod”.

As a teenager I didn’t actually dream of having a 36-24-36 body but I admired girls who were flattering in bikinis or swimsuits. But being 18 and finally reaching 20, a lot of changes happened not just with my body but with how I perceive it, and as pathetic as it may sound, compared to the bodies of other girls my age. I’ve learned in school, among my peers and mentors that the “inside” is far more important than the “outside”. But no matter how many times I hear this or tell this to myself, I still couldn’t help but think about insecurities and why some are better or better-looking than others.

It was only a few days ago that I understood everything I used to question and finally found the answers I surprisingly found within myself.


*University of Princeton Study

After watching that short clip of Jessica Rey, I tried to search for the study at Princeton University about men’s perception of scantily clad women that she had mentioned. Upon further reading, I found out more details about and finally decided that it was time to write about it.

Psychologist Susan Fiske, along with other researchers at Princeton University, conducted a study among 21 heterosexual male volunteers. They first took a test that scores people based on different types of sexist attitudes. They were then show pictures of both fully-clothed and skimpily-dressed men and women. The brain scan results showed that “when men are shown pictures of scantily clad women, the region of the brain associated with tool use lights up.”

The results also showed that there was an absence of activity in the part of the brain that usually responds when a person ponders another’s intention and a lack of activation in the social cognition area of the brain. These results revealed that these men see women as “sexually inviting, but they are not thinking about their minds”.

Furthermore, the study showed that men were also more likely to associate images of sexualized women with first-person action verbs such as “I push, I grasp, I handle,” as compared to the association with the third-person action such as “She pushes, She grasps, She handles”, with fully-clothed women.


*Objectification of Women

Although it has been recorded, argued and continuously debated on, the idea of the objectification of women is now finally clothed in scientific basis. It is now more than a feminist idea or an argument in the pervasiveness of double standards in our societies; it is a scientific fact that is both appalling and contemptible.

Everyday is still a struggle for a lot of women and everyday, each one of us, man and woman, unwittingly continues to live in this shadow of inequality and deeply-rooted social constructs on gender and sexuality.

My point is, many people, feminists or not, are fighting to create this ever longed for equality. There is inequality not just because of its long history, people’s obstinacy and disregard for it, but because there is something wrong in our culture.

I believe that there are a lot of things that the government and the society can do to prevent this but I also believe that we, as women, should also play an important role because we can and we should.

After watching Jessica Rey’s video clip and reading up on the Princeton University study, I asked my friends why or why they wouldn't wear bikinis. Most answers I found trivial but every conversation boiled down to their bodies.


*Obsessive Beauty Culture

There is always this insane pressure and judgment among women in the realm of society’s obsessive beauty culture.

I remember reading this story about a person who took a picture of a woman with excessive facial hair and a huge turban, posted it on Reddit, saying very offensive words towards her physical appearance. Apparently, the woman in the picture learned about this and commented that she was a Sikh with the belief that they should not alter their physical appearance – thus never cutting their hair and tying it in a turban. It was amazing how calmly she took the words and explained her beliefs. The person who originally posted the picture eventually apologized.

This kind of thing is just one of the innumerable ways that shows us how easily people can judge others and in turn, how others might perceive themselves based on these judgments and imposed standards.

Women have painstakingly endured different kinds of physical and emotional pain because of this obsessive beauty culture. Why would you give yourself excruciating amount of pain just to maintain a bikini line or keep those flabs from flapping away? Why has vanity become so obsessive that we let our bodies and self-esteem suffer just to be able to be called "beautiful"?

I am not saying that it is bad to look good. The question I want to ask is why do these things?

I believe that women can wear whatever they want and do whatever they want to do. But these should not be worn or done because of what others might say but because we embrace who we are and are proud of it.

I’ve seen this blog criticizing how women try so hard at having a beach body for the summer and so she posted this very humorous but meaningful picture:





*Stop Trying to Impress

I have nothing against people who wear bikinis but I hope they wear this with confidence, whatever body type they have. I hope that they wear this not because they want to please men but because they are pleased with their own bodies. I hope that they wear bikinis for their own unique and beautiful bodies not for others to praise or envy them.

I hope we go on diets not because we want to fit in a corset or be someone’s date. I hope we go on diets because we want to be healthy. I hope that we don’t always have to be what we see from the obsessive beauty culture in our society.

I used to be insecure of my body but now I’ve learned to embrace it. I know it is hard for some, especially for those who are big-boned, naturally large, or have health problems. But we are beautiful not because of what others say but because we accept our own beauty, whatever form it may take.

All I am saying is that we should learn to take care of ourselves and be confident without spending too much money, time, and without compromising our individuality for something that has no bearing on the quality of our friendships, our employability and our worth as a person.

We are not objects. We are human beings. How can men perceive us as such if we, ourselves, do not believe that we are beautiful the way we are – fully-clothed or scantily-clad, size 4 or size 14, fair or copper-skinned? We must learn to accept our bodies and feel beautiful because, in essence, we all are.



*Of Modesty

On a more personal note, I am happy to have stumbled upon Jessica Rey’s video clip. Religion aside, I feel a bit ashamed of how my values were compromised by the desire to fit in, to be liked. But with that video clip, I was reminded again of modesty that my Mom has always been telling me ever since I was a kid. She would tell me that some of her students would wear make up or dress up in very skimpy or flashy clothes but end up having nothing to say or answer in class. As cliché as it may sound yet again, but what is inside will always be more important than what can be seen on the outside.

And in light of recent events, I am both overwhelmed and ecstatic about the announcement that there will be no swimsuit competition for this year's Ms. World pageant. As stated in the article published in the New York Times:

“It has been misunderstood by some people that Miss World is a beauty competition focusing on the physical attractiveness of a woman’s body,” the organizer, Hary Tanoesoedibjo, an Indonesian media tycoon, said.
“This is absolutely misleading,” Mr. Tanoesoedibjo said, adding that the pageant is also about “inner beauty, which includes intelligence, manners and achievement.”




Just like Audrey Hepburn and all the confident and “beautiful” women out there, I hope I would never forget modesty and grow old covered in wrinkles and unflattering elderly symptoms but still as elegant, principled and dignified as I can be.

before and after

A book review of Samantha Sotto's "Before Ever After"

I really am not a fan of love stories in novels. I got to read this book, however, due to the recommendation of my friend, Allana, who lent me a copy. I was also fascinated by the fact that its author is a Filipina.

“Before Ever After” is a story of a woman who had lost her husband in a terrible accident and three years after finds herself confronted by another man, who claims to be the grandson of his late husband. Paolo, an Italian editor of American coffee table books, one day comes knocking into Shelley’s door and shows her pictures of her late husband, Max.

Paolo tells her that Max, whom Shelley knew was dead for three years, is actually alive and well and is in fact, Paolo’s grandfather. Shelley is both overwhelmed and confused with the man in her midst but much more perplexed by the two realities she has yet to come to terms with. Shelley and Paolo then go to a trip to solve a puzzle they both know might ruin their pasts and complicate the present.

I dare not tell the ending because that is actually what kept my interest until the end. Upon reading the hanging synopsis at the back of the book, I really had no idea how it will end or even how the story would go.

As I started with the first few chapters, I felt like I was watching a movie – sort of a combination of the films “If Only”, “P.S. I Love You” and “Bridget Jones Diary”. It was way too melodramatic for me, too theatrical even so I had to remind myself that, although I didn’t adore love stories as much, I still had to give the book a chance.

But the story gets interesting when Shelley meets Paolo and receives the shocking information that her dead husband is actually alive. On their journey together to meet Max, Shelley tells Paolo of how she and Max had met. And this boy-meets-girl tale really made the story more real, vivid, frustrating at times, exhilarating but surprisingly poignant. Shelley tells her of the group tour in Europe she impulsively joined. Coincidentally, this tour was organized by Max.

Max, Shelley and a small bunch of tourists travel around the beautiful towns and cities in Europe, exploring the less explored and having the most unusual and unexpected times of their lives.

If it were a real tour, I would’ve probably joined them. I am not fond of cities. I prefer to experience the culture, the history of a place, its uncommon spots. I’d rather live in a traditional house than stay in a five-star hotel. And that’s exactly why I enjoyed most parts of the book. I liked the way it somehow brought me closer to those places I could only dream of, even if some were fictional, I guess.

I think the highlights of the book were supposed to be focused on the stories behind the places that Max narrated to them during their travels. However, what I did was to picture these places in my mind and imagine how it would feel being there and hearing Max’s stories, as well.

Max shares stories of love, foolishness, youth, irrationality, fear, insanity, urgency, patience, courage, uncertainty, monsters, death, salvation and of realities and truths that are inevitably harder to live with than to accept.

The stories are as philosophical as it is practical in our life experiences. I was amazed though at the author's creativity and very detailed accounts of Max’s stories. Although at the latter part of their tour, I got a bit bored because I was so anxious of the ending, I still tried to grasp the significance of each of their adventures. It also got confusing at times because the stories of the past (which narrates the European tour by Max with the tour group including Shelley) was alternately placed with the story of the present (Paolo and Shelley’s trip to meet Max).

The end of Shelley and Paolo’s long distance travel brings them to the Philippines, in the charming and calm island in Boracay…in that small island where they are going to meet Max.

I leave you the liberty to read the ending yourselves. It’d probably be more exciting than me telling it here.

Anyways, the ending is somehow surprising although I got hints halfway through the book. But I think I still liked how it ended.

Although I think this is the longest time it took me to finish reading a book, I still found it worthwhile. It was generally a refreshing break from all my thriller reads. It just felt bothersome how the book seemingly drowned in adjectives and figures of speech. But as a whole, I still enjoyed reading it and would perhaps recommend it to friends.

I am also proud of the book’s author, Samantha Sotto, who was able to get into the Western literature market. There are a lot of exceptional writers and novelists in the country and I hope their works do get the same attention. But in essence, for me, for the love of literature, getting published by huge publishing houses doesn’t really matter as much as the readers getting more from the book than the author had originally intended.

In one way or another, I guess the book gave me something else. I don’t know if it’s a compliment for the author and her book but I know that what I got from the book is something significant.

I think the way to appreciate these kinds of books is to delve deeper into every encounter each page strikes you with. Maybe that’s how I got to appreciate the book despite the recurrence of romance and amorous sentimentality.

It could be very escapist in some ways but still a good read. A fascinating read indeed.

children vs. adults

Flashback.

Last month, during the enrollment period, we had to go to our respective advisers for approval of the subjects we were to take. As a freshman in the graduate program, my adviser and I had the inevitable Q&A portion during the pre-advising part of the registration procedures. It was basically a getting-to-know-you conversation since we'd be spending the next 2 years or so together, academically.

I sat next to her while she asked me questions. The first part of our conversation made me a bit tense but excited still.

Adviser: So, Clinical Psych. What are your plans?
Me: Well Ma'am, basically, I am working full time now and I'll be taking 2-3 subjects per semester.
Adviser: What do you plan to do after finishing your degree?
Me: I might quit working full-time when I finally have to work on my thesis and hopefully get a job related to my field of interest. After that, I'd probably pursue my Ph.D.
Adviser: A lot of studying I see.
Me: Yes, I guess.
Adviser: How old are you again?
Me: 22.
Adviser: Ohhh...

And it went from something mundane to something seemingly simple yet strikingly significant.

Adviser: Clinical. So, you want to help people. Who do you want to help, kids? adults?
Me: Adults. I prefer adults. I don't think I can handle kids better.
Adviser: Really? Are you sure?
Me: I don't know. I'm not really sure but I always have this soft spot for kids and I might be too affected if they're facing problems or issues. It scares me and I might lose heart.
Adviser: Really? Don't you think adults are more complicated.
Me: I guess so but I think I would be able to handle them.

My adviser, Dr. Violeta Bautista, appears like a straight cut-out from a more domestic version of Elite Philippines Magazine or the Philippine Tatler. She was so refreshingly lively and pretty yet she has this comfortable, homey feeling. She was wearing this maxi skirt, which has been a fashion craze lately, and a simple top accentuated by a long, bright but neat scarf. Everyone had their eyes on her with her elegance and a hairstyle that almost screams the word, 'fabulous'. Most interestingly, someone was following her behind wherever she went as if the only way to tread was the way she took. I'm not sure about the breed of the dog but he sure is a darling.

Anyway, my adviser just actually stands out from the rest of Psychology faculty because of the positive and eminent aura that she exudes. When I first saw her and learned that she was my adviser, I knew I was going to like her and I did, I actually do.

After our brief talk, the questions she asked just slipped out of my mind until recently when I've had this "reflection phase". Reflection, in a sense that I try to understand why I did things, said things, how I should deal with them, if I had ulterior motives and what I learned, even in the simplest of events.

"I don't think I can handle kids better."

Thinking about it now makes me really wonder if I could really handle adults better than kids. Living together with my parents until I was 16 kept me protected from all forms of harm and influences I got to know. Living away from my family and staying in the metro for more than 6 years now has also changed me a lot. Most of these changes were brought about by my new environment, my liberal education and most influentially, the people I interact with. More than a year now as a full-time employee, I still get to learn more than I'd expected. I thought I knew a lot of different kinds of people with the fact that I lived as a dormer my entire college life but I realized that it has also confined me to people who are more or less my age with the same UP mindset.

But being in a working environment where I interact with people from all ages and backgrounds, different schools, varying social interests and viewpoints, I learn of things, of ways that make adults more complicated than we'll ever understand. And recently, that conversation with my professor played back so vividly in my mind and for a while I thought of the answer I gave her, even questioned it myself.

People will continue to be complicated, more complicated with time, I guess, because essentially, change is inevitable. I take this a challenge now. Early on, one of the seemingly petty reasons why I wanted to Psych, was to understand and help my friends who seemed to have all kinds of problems this world has to offer. But now, I am more determined and even inspired to finish my studies and practice my profession to be able to sincerely help people and hopefully, to enable them to also help others, directly or indirectly.

I hope I would really be able to handle adults better when I finally get my license and practice. I hope I won't forget, even for a second, of why I want to pursue this profession. I hope will consistently have this passion and dedication for Psych, even more, as I further my studies. I hope that someday I would be of genuine help to people, without causing harm and with the best kind of impact on their lives.

pay it forward

I just remembered a Tumblr post I came across a few years back and tried searching it online and found this:

smile

This might just be a simple post, a form of vandalism(?) or a hipster-ish thing but it really is meaningful to me in many ways.

Recently, I really find it disappointing to see how people are losing faith in each other. I know this may sound too ideal, or what have you, but the littlest things can change a lot in this world. As this post shows, a stranger’s smile could be therapeutic for others.

Living in the metro for more than 5 years now has changed me but also made me love the life in the province more.

Life in the city is totally different from the one in the province. People in the city are more distrustful, even cynical at times. I have become more wary of my surroundings whenever I take public transportation and more alert with the people I interact with. It also feels like everyone is revolving around this big ball of money, running around like mad dogs trying to catch their own tails. It’s like a jungle with some sort of decorum subtly setting things in order. This actually reminds me so much of that cafeteria scene in "Mean Girls" where, in Lindsay Lohan’s imagination, the people in the cafeteria started crouching at each other like wild animals -- but in reality, they were just talking or talking behind each other's back. If ancient cultures determined winners through physical fights, nowadays, people shyly smile at each other but are subsequently and secretly stabbing each other;s back whenever a chance exposes itself.

The city reveals different kinds of people who destroy their faith in one another when an opportunity to be in a higher pedestal than someone else comes by. It feels like people are always trying to outsmart each other, to be better than someone else, to have the best...that they lose sense of what’s more important, of what is less tangible, of what humanity should be like.

Sometimes, the world forgets about kindness because people are way too scared of the kind of harm others could inflict than the kind of goodness they could share. All of these crimes happening in the midst of our daily lives remind us to always stay on guard and keep others at bay, especially strangers. It is probably inevitable especially if one had some bad experience before, but it still dismays me to see cold-hearted people who choose to turn away from something they could actually do something about. Noticing someone who seems lost and helping that someone without him/her asking really means a lot. Even a simple thank you, you’re welcome, excuse me, and sorry can somehow brighten someone’s darkest days. And yes, at times, even a stranger’s smile could remind us how such wonderful proofs we are of the existence of this world.

We don't always have to live for our careers, our education, our jobs, the materials things at our disposal...we could also live for the smallest things that actually matter -- the simple acts of kindness may it be in words or deeds, generosity despite one's economic status, trust amidst fearfulness, and a tad of optimism in this awfully skeptical world.

So smile your hearts out; you’ll never know how much that could mean to others. And move forward—to greater deeds – for a better world.

i dreamed a dream (anong paki mo sa long hair ko)

Two of my dearest team mates have resigned recently. Karen is going to pursue her nursing background and she’s currently undergoing training as a dialysis nurse. Ivan, on the other hand, wants a shift in his career and is now a policy officer at IBON Foundation, a non-stock non-profit development organization.

When Karen first informed me that she was already filing her resignation, I was a bit shocked because even if she already had plans of leaving before, I didn’t expect it to be so soon. Karen, why so soon? (huhu)

Meanwhile, Ivan’s last day at the office was last May 31. I’ve known his plans about leaving too and he was even pushing me to apply for that position but I had other things in mind. Eventually, he decided that it was time for him to leave the company and venture into a new career.

We both had farewell dinners with them and their last weeks in the office were as awfully heartbreaking as the feeling of being the ones left behind. But as one of my office mates said, ‘People come and go.’ And this time, they had the choice to leave and actually did.

So why am I writing about this. Here’s another story…

While in the shuttle on our way home, my dearest friend, Daphne, introduced me to one of her friends in the office, who happens to be a CommRes graduate from UP and is working as a part-time writer in Ortigas. They were talking about his part-time job and suddenly, she pointed at me saying: “Eto, frustrated writer.” If ears could palpitate, mine could’ve died at that moment.

I know she just meant it as a joke and nothing more but I suddenly felt my tummy growl and my body produce some sort of a bitter sting. I didn’t even know what to say. Then, it struck me. Is this what people think I am, a frustrated writer?

I graduated from the University of the Philippines College of Mass Communication with a degree in Journalism and I will forever be proud of that. Boasting aside, my experiences as a Journ student honed me to become the person I am today. Confidence, resourcefulness, wit and courage – these are just a few of the things I painstakingly earned as a Journalism undergrad. But obviously, compared to the experiences of those who are working as full-time journalists in the media, my experiences are probably just a speck of theirs.

Honestly, after graduating, I envied my friends, batchmates and classmates who work in the media. I was so eager to put to use my undergrad training and be part of a world I have always known to be my “calling”. I have always loved to write. Whatever mood I’m in, my only way out is to write. Writing has become my catharsis. If others would compose songs or draw or paint, I would prefer a hot cup of coffee and words would just jump out like vomit. I always knew I was going to be a journalist someday. Until the real calling came…

During my second to the last semester in UP, I had the weirdest and most amazing epiphany in my entire existence – “I want to be a clinical psychologist.”

Random. I know. But not really.  

I want to become a clinical psychologist. I will be truly happy if I become a clinical psychologist and I can do it for the rest of my life.

But why?

Well, my favorite television series, Bones, can be blamed partly but my love for Psychology itself cannot be measured by any psychometrician out there. I was so curios about how our mind works, our motivations, how we cope, our defense mechanisms and most importantly, how I can help others (mostly inspired by my friends) deal with their problems and whatnot.

But during that time I was already in my senior year, I decided to finish my degree in Journalism. It felt as though Journ was my first love and Psych, my true love. How dramatic. But seriously, it felt pretty wonderful to finally know what I really wanted to do.

Upon graduating, I still wanted to pursue my career as a journalist since I didn’t want to waste the four years of sleepless nights and tons of papers which turn out redder than a geisha’s lips whenever they come back after being checked. I did my job hunting for two weeks and finally landed in my current job at Thomson Reuters. Thomson Reuters is a very reputable company in different areas but as a MassComm graduate, we’ve always associated it with the media side, Reuters. So I took the opportunity.

When I started training, I was excited to learn new things but as months went by, I was getting so bored I had to drag myself and force my work clothes on just to get through the day in the office. That’s when I felt so jealous of my media friends who are working their assess off, underpaid, but generally satisfied with their work. There I was pounding on my keyboard like a madman while they cover different events, interview various personalities in business and politics and actually practice my ever loved profession – Journalism.

But after a few more months, I gained many friends in the office and work was annoying as usual but I knew better and learned to care less. Then, it struck me again, this time with realizations.

1. If you are in your 20s (or in your lifetime, maybe), you should never compare yourself to others. Ever.

~ You are different from them. You have a different background, a different situation, different priorities and most importantly, you shouldn’t be living or running your life according to how others are.

2. Just because someone is doing something that is expected of him/her doesn’t make that person better than you.

~ Why do people always have to worry about what others would say about them? Our decisions are ours to make and we also have to be responsible for them. Do whatever makes you happy and chase excellence. Success will be chasing you hands down. And people will stop pushing you to become what/who you’re not.

Insecurities, discontentment, resentment and envy – these are the main reasons for this world’s unhappiness and misery. When I was a kid, my mom once told me that I shouldn’t hold grudges or wish for someone’s misery because then my heart would turn black and die. As a kid it was a good analogy but even as an adult it makes a lot of sense, figuratively speaking.

My personal catharsis made me realize these things and cleared both my heart and my mind. I finally knew what to do.

So, by December last year, I decided to apply for the MA in Psychology program at the College of Social Sciences and Philosophy. And three months later, I got my acceptance letter and now I’m finally enrolled. Yay!

Everything I went through since I stepped out of the comforts of my ever dearest UP lead me to this new endeavor I am about to embark on. But, I am not forgetting about writing. Journalism is something that will always be a part of me and it will stay in a special place in my heart waiting for its turn. Until then, as my time and resources permit, I will set this path ablaze for my career in Clinical Psychology. I’ve never felt this much determination since I took the UPCAT and it feels so good to finally pursue something you are sincerely passionate about.

As for my friends and office mates who keep telling me I’m lucky to have had found what I wanted to do in life, here’s another very important realization:

*Sometimes, life gives you oranges when you’ve asked for apples. But walk on and you might just bump into an apple tree or better yet, stumble upon an empty land where you can plant whatever you please. As one of my favorite quotes say, “It doesn’t matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.”

As for Ivan and Karen, I am truly and sincerely proud of you. Although this means we won’t get to see each other as often as before; as long as you are happy, I’ll be here gleefully tapping you on the shoulder, smiling with your smiles and supporting you throughout.

So…Am I a frustrated writer? I leave you this question.

As for me, I don’t really care what others would say, whether they agree or not, because I know that I am happy with what I am doing and I am proud of it.