Notes from the Working Girl

ON "SILENCE"

noreply@blogger.com (theworkinggirl) — Sun, 22 Jan 2017 13:49:00 +0000

The theme of silence in the movie may be the opposite of what I am doing now -- writing about it. But I feel a need to do so having watched it on my own and not having anyone to discuss it with face-to-face. Also, if this, in any way, compels you to watch it, I will be truly grateful.

I was excited but nervous about watching Silence.

I had read Fr James Martin's and Andrew Garfield's interviews about the film. I have not read the book yet but two of my closest friends told me that the story is something I would value and treasure. It is something that resonates with our Jesuit education.

Still, a part of me was anxious. Given what I have been through the last 2 years, I was afraid of how I would receive the film. Religion and I have had a lot of serious talks these last few years.

But I was more than eager to know what the movie had to tell.

To me, regardless of your religious stance -- agnostic, atheist, Evangelist, casual Catholic/Christian, etc -- it is worth watching.

Silence is both very familiar and foreign to us these days. It's hard to find a moment of silence in our very busy schedules, with the existence of far-reaching technology, and contemporary culture that favors the loudest. There is always some sort of noise surrounding us.

And yet, I am sure many of us are unable to say what we want to say. Whether silenced by noisier people around us, being unable to speak because of feelings of inadequacy and fear, or simply because we cannot find the right words and would prefer to express ourselves differently. Or we say something but are not heard. For whatever reason, silence accompanies us daily, too.

If only for this, the movie must be watched or the book must be read.

The characters in the story had to keep silent about many things. Which begs the question, what does silence really mean? What is silence to each person we encounter? Is it the lack of anything at all or is it the absence of the external manifestation of what is truly being conveyed?

Silence can mean so much more than any sort of sound.

***

The movie's biggest messages to me are in the 4 quotes below. If you wish to walk into the movie house not expecting anything, please skip this part.

"There is something more important than the Church's judgment."

"If Christ was here, He would act."

"It is just a formality, a formality."

"...the most painful act of love that's ever been performed."

RESUME READING HERE

These 4 lines make me ask several questions. What does it truly mean to follow Jesus? What does it mean to serve God? Is there a clear-cut way to do so (I've always said no.)? Why do we pray? What is "truth?" Is there really "absolute truth?" What is religion for?

What does it mean to "find God in all things"?

Perhaps human life is to be spent answering these questions. Perhaps simply living our lives answers these questions.

Whichever it is, Silence is the perfect movie for anyone who wants to learn more about faith.

***

I find you, Lord, in all Things and in all
by Rainer Maria Rilke

I find you, Lord, in all Things and in all
my fellow creatures, pulsing with your life;
as a tiny seed you sleep in what is small
and in the vast you vastly yield yourself.

The wondrous game that power plays with Things
is to move in such submission through the world:
groping in roots and growing thick in trunks
and in treetops like a rising from the dead.

ON LOVE

noreply@blogger.com (theworkinggirl) — Sun, 17 Jul 2016 13:37:00 +0000

It's 1:30 a.m. and I'm waiting for my hair to dry. I like air-drying it every few days so it gets a rest. I've got a lot of hair so I decided to write while I wait about something I never thought I'd have the spine to write about: love.

Not love of self or love of friends or family. This time I'm going to try my hand at talking about romantic love.

A few months ago, I was so lucky to capture this moment. An elderly couple sitting in a park, whispering and laughing together. It looked like they were sharing the man's newspaper.

Now, I'm not sure if their story is Camila-Prince Charles-esque. But I would like to assume that they've been together most of their lives and nobody had to die for them to get together.

I kept watching them (in a very uncreepy way) and I thought, how on earth did they last that long?

Love is complicated. We know this because long before we had sites like Thought Catalog dissecting the complexities of love and all its cliches, we had Romeo and Juliet. We also had legions of philosophers and theologists trying to figure out love, Cleopatra and Antony and all the stories of Greek Mythology. Many wars have been started because of love.

At the same time, love is quite simple. Love is, well, love. We all struggle to find a way to describe it because love simply is.

I’ve come to believe that what complicates love are the considerations we have around the love that we end up having in our lifetime.

Is the other attractive? Of the preferred age? Has a decent source of income? Of a respectable background? And the more recent criteria: will you laugh at the same things? Similar taste in food? Same "wavelength"? No known sex tapes/scandals? Most importantly, are they emotionally available?

And regardless of saying yes to all those questions, you may not end up with someone you will truly love. In the same way that in missing some of those things, you may find true love.

Because, really, no partner will always be who you hope or want them to be. No two people are ever alike. Human beings are too great of a creation to be fathomed by a young woman's brain. As such, the “perfect” partner will be someone you cannot imagine. And for this very reason, love is born.

As you discover the weaknesses and shortcomings of one another, love is seasoned over time.

You put up with the disagreements, the questions and worries, the moments of mismatched humour, the snoring, the disappointments, the short fuses, the differences in habits and opinions. Yet with all this "putting up" and constant test of patience, you find that there is no big enough reason to be with someone else. And you choose to be together over and over again.

Love becomes simple, stripped of so many considerations and worries, though it's never easy.

Love is a series of unmet expectations that result in pleasant surprises.

Very different from the “He's so perfect! Nobody's ever made me feel this way before!" squealing and the relationships seemingly in a constant state of euphoria that entertainment news would like us all to believe.

And as far as romantic comedies go, it’s the meet cutes that seem unbelievable. What shouldn't be unbelievable is finding someone who will choose and accept you because of all of the insanity you both go through. It can happen in real life. It happened to my friends. It can happen to anyone. It even happened to me.

I made a white lie about this post. This did start at 1:30am while I was drying my hair. But this was finished over a month later. I wasn't sure what to say or how to say it. In my head, it made sense, but each time I wrote something down, I felt like a big chunk of what love is to me flutters away and escapes my writing. It's a very scary and very evasive topic.

And I’m not sure how to end this anymore. But let me try.

Love takes a lot of grit, but somehow it just keeps on happening to you and whoever loves you back. It’s built on a shared history mixed with the good and the bad that in some twisted way brings hope for the future. So when it comes, let it happen.

Bye, 2015

noreply@blogger.com (theworkinggirl) — Thu, 14 Jul 2016 17:37:00 +0000

***Republishing because I accidentally deleted the original post dated 31 Dec 2015***

I spent Christmas and will probably be spending the New Year primarily with myself. As I said in my Christmas post, this holiday season is spent away from all that I know. Imagine that. A Filipino, whose rowdy Christmas festivities start in September, will be spending the holidays alone?

When the day came, it actually was not as bad as I thought it would be. It was so good that I've been going around telling friends to try it at least once in their lives.

Two friends joined me on Christmas Eve but Christmas Day was spent on my own, and it was refreshing. Quiet and peaceful.

I walked around the city taking pictures, hunted around for a church with an English mass. After dreading the day, it turned out to be one of the most meaningful times of my life. I realized that that was the best gift I could ever have received: to feel serenity after everything that's happened.

The walk drove home the meaning of something I keep saying, "I would rather be alone than be in a miserable relationship." A theme persistent in 2015 that's definitely something worth holding on to for 2016.

At the end of Christmas day, I did tear up a little before bed, pondering on what I did not have, but then I could tell myself, "You'll be fine. You already somewhat are. You're fine just the way you are. Keep going." and truly believe it after many many moments of crushing self-doubt and guilt.

That scene in Fast and the Furious 7 where Paul Walker fights a boss goon in a speeding trailer truck that's headed off a cliff? That's my 2015.

To say it was an uphill battle is an understatement. It was a wreck. I was *this* close to losing it. But like Brian in Fast 7, I got out albeit all beaten up and exhausted.

It's the end of 2015. I'm alive. So are you. And that's one thing to be thankful, proud and happy about though everyday isn't full of stress-free idyllic days and self-paying bills. I still prefer to be alive than dead. Being alive means still having a chance to change things and be happier before I move on to the next life.

Bye, 2015. If there's anything you've taught me, it's this: life's a bitch but never a bitch just for the sake of being one.

Thank you for that.

FIRST

noreply@blogger.com (theworkinggirl) — Thu, 14 Jul 2016 17:09:00 +0000

A year ago, I was made to believe that I was a sucky person. I was told that I am an ungrateful spoiled brat who has done nothing noteworthy in life. I was told that my dreams and wishes in life are pathetic. I was told that I was the lowest of the lows, heartless and selfish.

And for a long time I believed it all.

Today, all these things still haunt me. I literally have to shake my head to chase away the images and the sounds. But I no longer believe them. They have not faded from my memory, though I hope one day they would. What I hope will not fade is the conviction that my value as a person is not to be determined by others, that I should always love myself, and that what I believe in counts.

Happy Anniversary to us, Hong Kong.

NEW THINGS

noreply@blogger.com (theworkinggirl) — Thu, 16 Jun 2016 15:50:00 +0000

I haven't written for some months now. People have wondered where I have gone. Yes, there are people who actually care about this blog. Thanks, guys!!!

I've been taking a break from writing. See, I write when I feel strong emotions. Strong negative emotions. I sit down to write when my emotions are tame enough that I'm no longer crying my eyes out and I can somehow organise my thoughts and type -- instead of wiping snot. And from there, I start thinking. How do I transform my sad, angry, lonely thoughts to something other than whining and/or ranting?

Thankfully, some sort of humour comes out. But the problem is this: my brain takes forever to stop thinking. It cannot limit itself to think only of the writing. It's a curse, this overthinking thing that I have. It can be very depressing.

And so I decided to take a step back from writing. I still needed an outlet, but it had to be one that wouldn't make me implode.

Luckily, I found photography. It does not require thinking. You create an image. Snap it. Photo comes out. Tada! Instant gratification!

Of course, photos have a nice-ness hierarchy. I'm not sure what the technical terms are for the criteria. But you know how some photos just get to you? Those I aim for. Here, technology and some physics (photography is all about light and reflections, according to a physicist friend of mine) are involved. But those are not very hard to grasp even for the ones like me who are lazy when it comes to reading technical books if you spend enough time fiddling with your camera.*

And I love fiddling with a camera.

Composing the photo. Getting the right shot. Trying to capture what your eyes are seeing -- there is no substitute for the human eyes! Bringing an image to life. Being able to share that beauty with other people. Invoking in them awe or a different perspective on things that are often seen as very mundane. Photography is capturing life itself.

I think I've always liked photography. I just didn't have the tools and didn't focus on it till I met Roy and moved to HK. It got me through some of the loneliest times in HK. Weekends alone were spent walking around HK with a camera. Seeing the city through a lens is a very very very different experience. It makes you see things differently so you could capture a good shot. It also forces you to go to certain places you wouldn't normally go to just to get good pictures. It's a different kind of challenge. A different kind of high.

No wonder it's one of the most cliche art forms nowadays. It's addicting.

I really really really want to get better at this.

I won't abandon writing. Too many thoughts in my head and they all need to go somewhere. Like this very moment now. I'm not sure how many still read this blog. But it's not dead. I'll try to make it more colourful and add more images to the stories. This is me shyly saying, Please don't abandon the blog. Hahaha!

Sample photos below! Please don't steal them.

*I've broken it down to very basic terms. Which one makes things brighter or darker, move things slower or faster, makes things stop or have motion. Photography skill is all about experience, in my opinion.

P.S. I made my own watermark because a friend warned me of photography thieves. Photos are mine!

THE NEW NORMAL

noreply@blogger.com (theworkinggirl) — Tue, 08 Mar 2016 16:34:00 +0000

Almost 8 months into my life in HK. Have I accepted that things have changed? Slowly. Reallyyyyy slowlyyyyy.

But I cannot stop. Not because I have to accept the changes. I want to accept the change. It’s the only way I can feel comfortable, finally, with the newness of many things in my life.

No longer do I have the luxury of relying on monthly withheld tax. I am in the process of understanding the tax system which I am told is not very complicated. But taxes are taxes and I think they’re the same the world over. Like politics.

I survive on long-distance relationships are primarily long-distance and online. Before, of the people I personally interacted with daily, 70% were friends/acquaintances and 30% were strangers. Now it's vice versa. Visits are a bonus. Having them feels like the mushrooms in Super Mario. (Nobody knows exactly how hard this is when coupled with stressful work till they have experienced it themselves)

I've gained weight. (Oh yes, I went there.)

Let’s take that last point. Those who know me well are aware of how concerned I get about my weight. These days, my body has transformed to something it hasn’t been in awhile. I have disposed of some old trousers because they won’t fit anymore. For a former obese kid, this is stuff of nightmares.

And so I spend some days sitting in my office chair annoyed at how tight my clothes are getting. Some days I feel like my facial features are drowning under my cheeks. Face = cheeks.

A few weeks ago, I had a chat with my “baby” brother who told me gaining weight doesn’t make you ugly. And if you really want to lose the fat, there's something you can do about it.

Double whammy. Positive body image advice and reminder of having control over your life from a 19-year old. He was right, of course.

Major changes are ongoing, better make the best of it and follow through. I will be wasting all the tears, discomfort of winter, and reality-shattering events if I did not come out of this a changed person.

The changed me is not the person I’m expected to be, but the self-actualised version of me. Whatever that person is like because, frankly, I’m not quite sure where life is taking me right now. I’m just going with it, praying like mad that my faith is not going to waste (but then again, when has faith ever been a waste?).

And so while I wait for things to run their course, I am trying to learn new ways of being kind to myself. I have to else I sink into a moshpit of antagonism. Falling to despair and self-dislike. And I become a Sith Lord. And everyone knows they're all ugly. Cool but ugly. Or I go to work everyday with bloodshot swollen eyes. Neither appeal to me very much.

I have taken up a new hobby as well: photography. But that’s for another time.

YOURS

noreply@blogger.com (theworkinggirl) — Fri, 04 Dec 2015 10:24:00 +0000

The security guard of my apartment's building barely knows English. When I come home at night, we ask each other how we are in a mixture of attempted terrible Cantonese by yours truly, convoluted English from guard whose name I still don't know as I don't know how to ask him his name (yet!), and a lot of sign language that would put Helen Keller to shame.

We've progressed to being able to figure out how to ask each other if I've had dinner and if I've just gotten back from a run. But most nights, we good naturedly laugh at how we cannot understand each other and bid each other goodbye when the elevator finally reaches the lobby.

My interaction with him paints a picture of how most of my outside-of-work conversations go, only most of them are much less pleasant. Hint: not much laughter, a lot of deadpan expressions, if not outright exasperation at the difficulty of communication.

In my 5-month stay in Hong Kong, I have only learned Cantonese for the following:

1) Good morning
2) Getting the tab in the restaurant
3) Thank you and excuse me (they use the same term)
4) Whether I want iced lemon tea or iced milk tea
5) Ask for a takeaway box in the restaurant (sign language required)

80% of the time outside work, I am responding to things I don't completely understand. A colleague, who is also a foreigner in Hong Kong, and I agreed that "yes" is a better response to these things than "no."

Cashier lady speaks to me. I nod my head. I suddenly have a shopping bag (shopping bags are paid for here). I nod my head, give a thumbs up to a waitress and I get more tea.

I am quite comfortable with English but my joy is inexplicable when I get to use Filipino, Tagalog and Bisaya. When I start saying something in Tagalog or Bisaya and I have to stop and revert to English, I feel a gut-wrenching pang in my stomach.

It is the most constant reminder that I am in a foreign country.

The language barrier tells me that I am somewhere most do not understand my mother tongue, the language I can truly communicate with. Here, I am not thoroughly understood. Even speaking to native English-speakers provides me with that barrier because the nuances of our spoken English evades them. Theirs evade me, too. Different cultures, different history of the language.

As such, my self-expression is terribly limited and if I were to be brutally honest (and, yes, a bit dramatic), the restriction induces this feeling that something in me died. There will always be an invisible wall between myself and these foreigners constantly surrounding me. I will never be able to fully describe kare-kare to my teammates, and I will not be able to explain a bunch of other Filipino things because a lot of them evade any attempt at translation.

I will also not be as funny to them. Not ever. I mean, they say a foodplace in Manila is called Keanu Ribs. Guess what they serve? There's also Libing Things, Harry Pata, and Kini Rogers Lechon Manok. There are a bunch of other Pinoy humor-centric stuff that I cannot share with them and so I have to stifle my laughter till tears come out of my eyes. I do believe I have established myself as the office weirdo.

I will also never be able to tell them exactly how sad/happy/excited I am or why. Neither will they grasp the importance of the upcoming elections and exactly how things are in the Philippines: the good, the bad and the absolute beauty of it.

Perhaps I am only mourning what I miss and I would not be doing so if I have not known the luxury of being able to use Filipino like it was an extension of myself.

But I recall the times people attempt to speak your language which is completely alien to them. Recall the times you tried to use a foreign language to its native speakers. Weren't you excited to hear them learn it? Weren't they excited to hear you try to use theirs?

That is how language affects people.

The cliche said of the Philippines is becoming real for me. What I miss most from my country is the warmth of its people (my statement already considers the con artists and corrupt officials of our country, they are a minority). And this warmth and our kinship with each other are very much reflected in our language and our use of it.

And this is the case I make for the Filipino language and owning your mother tongue. Often, we get so preoccupied with getting English right that we forget to practice that native language (apparent in generations of kids who struggle with the language) -- the language that's an integral part of our identity as Filipinos who spent/still spending many years in the Philippines. Master it. Embrace it. It is a gift that keeps on giving, one that will allow you a strong hold on who you are.

SOUL

noreply@blogger.com (theworkinggirl) — Sat, 29 Aug 2015 16:58:00 +0000

It's my first Saturday in my new flat. For the first time in weeks, I finally get to have down time.

I decided to spend it going through my Facebook feed (my addiction, sad to say) and I saw the link to a video of a 12-year old girl singing a version of Edith Piaf's La Vie En Rose who successfully gave me goosebumps (La Vie En Rose cover).

This led me to looking for videos of Beyonce's live performances. Oh yes, Queen Bee and her hips.

And by the power of YouTube's Related Videos, I found this gem. Janelle Monae, Tessanne Chin, Aretha Franklin, Patti LaBelle, Jill Scott, Melissa Etheridge, and Ariana Grande all perform for President Obama in honor of soul music.

I'm not African American. I do not have their history. But somehow soul just gets to me. It can bring me to tears when performed live like in the video above.

Not quite sure what started me on soul. It's not really the genre that's popular in my home country. They generally like ballads there.

I'm thinking it was Lauryn Hill's That Thing (Doo Wop), Alicia Keys really cool Songs In A Minor which I played in my room with all the lights out, or maybe it was hearing Proud Mary and Respect somewhere.

There was something about the songs' character style that got me wondering, Where is this music coming from?

So I kept researching and I discovered Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles, Etta James, Curtis Mayfield, The Supremes and a whole lot more. And over the years, my taste has leaned towards music very close to soul (thank you, world, for Janelle Monae).

Soul will ALWAYS be the genre that makes me feel the most.

I will forever envy the way these artists can sing. It's like their souls are being ripped out of their bodies every single time. And no performance is ever the same. They know how to flip around notes and distort melodies of a song yet still remain loyal to the essence of the song (please see the many versions of Amazing Grace).

Some people dream of being like Victoria's Secret models. I dream of being able to sing like a soulful black woman.

OFW

noreply@blogger.com (theworkinggirl) — Thu, 27 Aug 2015 15:29:00 +0000

The Ninoy Aquino International Airport is probably one of the most emotionally-charged departure areas in the world.

It’s a melting pot of emotions.

On one hand, you have the many tourists who flock to the country. They’re easy to pinpoint in the departure area. All bubbly from their adventures, tanned and most probably of foreign descent.

On the other hand, you have long, solemn faces in the throng. Tear-streaked cheeks, bloodshot eyes, their expressions are markedly different from the happy visitors leaving the country. Unlike the others, these ones usually have large send-off parties armed with handkerchiefs and little towels for tears uncontrollably welling up in their eyes. There are many hugs, rubs on shoulders and backs. They cling to each other. You can hear departing loved ones reassuring those left behind in voices that give away their own struggle with finding the strength to leave to work in a foreign land.

And on that fateful morning 6 weeks ago, I was of the crowd trying very hard to pry myself away from the city that served as the backdrop of my growth into adulthood and the people whose company I value the most.

If I were featured in Humans of New York (Hi, Brandon! I love you!) that early morning of July, my photo’s caption would be: I am moving to a new country for work. And, I think, for the first time ever, I am truly afraid for myself.

A smile would be on my lips but it would not reach my eyes. My eyes would be too busy crying.

I know that, by far, my circumstances are better than most of the Filipinos who get shipped off abroad. For one, my employer is legitimate and they provided assistance for the relocation — a lot of it. Plus, I have very good friends in the country I am moving to. I would be taken care of and I would not be alone. My job will be in an international corporation where I am a manager. People would give so much to be in my place.

Still, all these did not make the blow of separation any less painful.

It was not about being scared of not surviving abroad. Neither was it primarily about what I’m leaving behind. To me, it was the dread of feeling unanchored once again. I thought I could finally settle somewhere and really grow roots. I thought that maybe, at long last, my life of constantly moving from one home to another was done and I could make myself a permanent home. But life seemed to have another plan for me. I knew I was going to be subjected to another gruelling bout of transition and finding stability in a new place. I was miserable.

So to distract myself, as I was currently in the pre-departure area exhausting myself with sobs, I thought of the people riding the plane with me.

I looked around and I felt a mix of pride and sadness. Most were OFWs who, like me, were dabbing on their eyes with tissues, handkerchiefs or towelettes.

Our countrymen are shipped off to many countries in the world because we are mostly preferred over other nationalities. We’ve heard this countless times. We speak well. We work well. We know how to relate to superiors. Generally, we’re a likeable bunch. And that gives me pride even if the jobs offered to Filipinos range from domestic helpers and manual labourers to doctors, nurses and bankers.

But then, we are a country that boasts of its excellent tourism with an economy sustained primarily by Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs). How ironic is it that our own country welcomes and invites the world to its shores but cannot keep its own people in their own homes?

At that moment in the airport, in the midst of texting sappy goodbyes to loved ones who were asleep at that hour and in the presence of fellow adventurers, I promised myself that though I was flying out with a very heavy heart, I would make this next segment in my life fun (as my favourite uncle said, we make our own fun wherever we go). Also, to make it less about myself, I’ll do it for the Filipinos, too. I am the only Filipino in my team and the rest are a mix of people hailing from all continents of the world. There is a certain desire to prove myself for my race.

Above all, as cheesy as it is, I vowed to myself that this stint should fuel what I know to be the life I dream of. Just like any true OFW — not an expat but an OFW.

It took me months to tame my emotions about the move. I barely cry nowadays and the homesickness is not as crippling as before. Thus, I believe I am ready to write again.

I officially begin my Hong Kong series here.

BECAUSE WE LOVE LETTERS

noreply@blogger.com (The Working Girl) — Thu, 19 Mar 2015 00:43:00 +0000

Dear You,

There will be a time in your life when you feel so debased that you will almost freeze in fear and anxiety. At this point, you will learn that being present is one of the hardest things you will have to learn. And it will be one of the most important lessons you will acquire in life.

Growing up, you have been taught that if you work hard enough, you will be prepared. You have also been taught that you are talented and hard working, thus you must have matching ambition. This is the formula of success, you are told. Go big. Go far. Expand. Never look back and dream big.

And so you did. You pushed forward. Always going for "more" and never settling for anything "less." After all, you want to safeguard your future.

Then it hit you. An event that turned your life towards a direction you never think you'd take. You found a place that finally felt like home. You will want this so badly, like you've never wanted anything else in your life. This made you realize that maybe, just maybe, your dreams are not quite like what is asked of you. Perhaps there is more to life than what you knew.

There was an avalanche of emotions and thoughts. Realities were thrown in your face. Ones you did not really notice or paid attention to before.

Suddenly, you are no longer so sure of what you held to be "true" and "good." Everything you have lived by is suddenly challenged because of new experiences. The more troubling thing is, deep down, you knew that there was something worth challenging all these years. You are forced to reach very deeply into yourself to find what you truly stand for. An exercise, you realized, which is not very straightforward as there are competing voices in your psyche all escalating to a cacophony of demands -- voices not necessarily yours.

In the process, tears will be cried. Joy will be stripped from many things you love. You will be, for a time, powerless, exhausted, and playing with the thought of permanent rest. You will ask why your path to happiness is so difficult. Why you were sent something so incredible only to find so many obstacles preventing you fr reveling in it. You will wonder if you got it all wrong. If you should backtrack, admit it was a mistake and just let it go. But you will find that taking this path seems wrong to your very core.

You will wake up every morning grappling with thoughts of the future -- thoughts that will scare you out of your mind because all seem to lead to your failure at life and letting go of your happiness. You will not sleep. You will not find rest. You will feel alone, heart seized with fear and convinced that you're trapped in a life you no longer want to live.

When all seems to be at a dead end and you tire of yourself, you will find loved ones who will stand as your lampposts. They will give you enough strength to hold on to who you are with their words of encouragement. They will tell you that true happiness has a cost and being yourself sometimes requires a fight.

You will also be driven to your knees in front of the Being to Whom you will latch all your hopes.

There you will realize that answers cannot be obtained immediately. That you can easily sabotage your future and happiness if you refuse to resist the pull of anxiety about the future. And that, ultimately, life will have its way with all of us and we cannot be so arrogant to believe that we can control or predict everything.

More importantly, you will be taught that love requires faith for it to realize itself and fully bloom. You just have to trust it as there's no way you can tell how the future will work out no matter how much work and planning you put into it. The essence of love is precisely the pitfall of "smart" people. Love is riddled with uncertainty and therein lies its beauty as you have to choose to stay and believe in love though you don't know what will happen.

After all this, you will emerge knowing that there is one fundamental rule for happiness: never forget that you are in the present. And you will make it your mission to fight for the ability to be in the present which manifests your faith in the future.

You have to fight for what you want in life, but also learn to balance this with letting things unfold on their own. You have to take risks without forgetting what you are working towards. You have to believe that it's more than okay to want what you want though others say otherwise. You have to overcome fear so as to let love in.

And these you have to do over and over again.

Remember what you were told: Enjoy the present with an eye on the future. You are loved. You are enough. Love well and love deeply. You will know by the solutions. Believe.

And be grateful.

Love,

You

BANDWAGON

noreply@blogger.com (The Working Girl) — Sat, 31 Jan 2015 00:37:00 +0000

December 31st. As my hometown has banned all sorts of fireworks, I am forced to sit in quiet contemplation. It’s been a full year since my last visit here and something feels so different though I have been surrounded by things that have stayed the same.

Being here again makes me think of exactly the things you think about when a year ends and a new one is about to start. Bandwagon-y as it seems, I’m writing on anyway in the hope of coming up with something honest if not so original.

Home

2014 has underscored how tricky the concept of “home” can be.

I moved cities for college and, eventually, work. My family still lives in the city I grew up in and I go home at least once a year. But the last 9 years have been spent in the city where my alma mater and current career are. It’s where I’ve started to do things completely on my own.

So which is home? The place where I spent my first 17 years, or the city which is teaching me many things about adult life?

Both will always have pieces of my heart, eliminating the certainty of the proverbial aphorism “home is where the heart is.” I refer to both as “home.” But, perhaps inevitably, the kind of comfort I feel in these cities are different.

The childhood home is where your character begins to be formed. Your core was built in this place. It is also where you will always be seen in relation to the little girl or boy that you were, where you are seen through the eyes of those who watched you from birth till adolescence. It is also where you can kick back and revel in memories of childhood -- a time when you probably were less weighed down by things like career, "the future," and existential questions.

The home of your adult years is where your character is enhanced in whole new dimensions. It is where you are given the choice to build your identity quite removed from the image of childhood. It is also the place where you learn that your life is yours to live, that you are accountable for it, and that self-determination is the greatest gift and curse given to a human being.

So which is home? Perhaps it is a place that accepts you completely: childhood and adulthood. It is anywhere that offers a presence that will take us on wholly and would compel us to grow and thrive towards the future and the life that we are meant to live.

Joy

2014 also taught a tough lesson on knowing when you have something good and having the balls to keep choosing what gives you happiness.

From a distance, the notion of “choosing your happiness” seems easy enough. Why would you not opt for joy? But any adult would tell you that there are many obstacles that will hold you back from choosing joy.

It can range from the disbelief that you are experiencing such happiness at long last, to not knowing what makes you happy. Environmental pressure and conditioning that are not so easily broken away from, the fear of getting it wrong and of the possibility of joy ending.

I remember my guy best friend texting me every few days with messages with the following gist: “What the hell! I’m so happy! How is this possible???” — exclamations of sheer disbelief.

All these easily lead to sabotaging your own bliss. Sabotage that needs to be prevented if you were to live in joy.

The fear of loss must be overcome by the possibility of greater joy once you have chosen to free yourself and experience happiness. A love that gives more grief than joy can be left behind. Resistance to unnecessary drama must be practiced till perfected. A new love that is found requires the mustering of faith and strength to be pursued. The life you envision yourself living must be chosen time and time again for it to materialise.

The theme of 2014 is summarised by what a Jesuit friend told me sometime in December: real happiness has a cost, but it is usually worth the price you pay.

Forward

So I move into 2015 with these things in mind.

Having a home is not so much as having a living space somewhere as it is deciding to build a life in a place you’re in. It’s where you decide to embrace the good and the bad of residing somewhere. Not because you see the place simply as a transitional stop and you need to survive till you can leave. Rather, you do it because it is where you truly are at that moment. And whether or not you move somewhere else sometime later is not the undercurrent that drives your everyday life.

Happiness is something that we must believe we deserve and can achieve. To be thoroughly happy is not selfish. More importantly, happiness is a living thing. It evolves just like a human being. It can shy away from the light of day. It can build character such that it knows how to keep itself alive even at the worst times. A character obtained by ample nurturing and attention for it.

I’ll be 26 this year. One of the many gifts that aging gives is wisdom, they say. Thus, I have high hopes for 2015. Hopefully, the last 20-something years gave me something that I could count as wisdom that I could use to have a better life.

Happy new year.

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE

noreply@blogger.com (theworkinggirl) — Mon, 08 Dec 2014 09:30:00 +0000

One of my favorite places in this city is the 4-storey bookstore near my place. Four floors of books and carpeted floors. People could plop down on the floor and read. And I’ve actually met some interesting people there.

But one level is different. Self-help books fill almost half the floor.

There are times when I stand there a little confused. Their hard copies sell millions and they’re heavily-pirated in the ebook world. My mind then proceeds to the many online articles that have gone viral telling you how to act in every situation imaginable or how to understand this or that.

Makes me wonder, what are we doing with genuine human response to life happening all around us? Are we trying to create a world of sameness where everyone is, unwittingly, forced into a mold?

I concede that these were written with basis in reality. Thousands and even millions may have been helped by this genre of literature as they are relatable and “real.” But it's become funny to me how the world seems to be functioning according to the rules and ideals proposed by these materials.

It’s gone to the extent where people are driven to ludicrous levels of overthinking and disconcertion whenever they do something according or contrary to what have read. We are suddenly plagued with questions like: Did I do it right? So I’ve been doing it wrong all this time? So if I do this, I’ll get right, right? (Writer's note: please exclude religion when you read this. That's an entirely different discussion that this post will not give justice to.)

In our world now, there are layers upon layers of rules and how-to's found in writing or otherwise -- sometimes driving us to fixate on perfection and getting it right -- when maybe life can be simpler and more authentic.

These rules cannot hold forever. People adapt. Some years ago, women were taught to put a hold on their careers so they can get married. Now, we have Lean In by Sheryl Sandberg where women cry foul at such stereotypes. The concept of busy as the epitome of success. Men and their excessive machismo. These do not apply anymore. What’s written in Women are From Venus, Men are From Mars is slowly being chipped away by the concept of "role-switching” between men and women. (recommended read: http://www.brainpickings.org/2014/01/15/how-to-make-love-1936-pietro-ramirez/)

Of more import is this: don't we, as self-aware human beings, have to establish our own identities? Are we not tasked to use our intellect and consciousness in a way that justify them fully?

Whenever I read articles or am told that these are the steps to *insert whatever goal you want,* I squirm a little. There is wisdom from those who have experienced life ahead of me. Refusal to listen to those wiser and believing to know everything is certain foolishness. Nevertheless, careless absorption of passed on knowledge dangerously toes the line between sagacity and parroting or blind following.

After all, how can someone outside of oneself claim to know someone else’s story fully? and what of creativity?

One of my biggest worries when I started publicising this blog and getting feedback about it is that someone might walk away thinking, “Oh, that Working Girl blog person told me to do this when this happens.” Well, unless, of course, you turn out to be an extremely successful person who changes lives. Then I would gladly be the wind beneath your wings. Kidding aside, we are here to tell our story to anyone who will have us and to hear stories from those who would want us to listen. Not to infringe on decision-making.

My Philosophy of Ethics professor in college said that the university requires all its students to take four philosophy classes was not to create a uniform world where everyone thinks the same way. We are exposed to other thinkers so as not to go to “war” completely unequipped and ignorant of the real challenge imposed on all of us: to create our own philosophy.

That was probably the best thing I learned in college.

So though Jesuits may occasionally dismay/frustrate me with their penchant to ask more questions instead of answering any of them and their insistence on “discernment," I understand that it’s their way of telling you in the nicest way possible that you should grow a spine and decide on your own because only you know what’s best for yourself.

P.S. We apologize for the long hiatus. Life happened. We're back now.

Life Milestones: A Working Girl Attempts to Date

noreply@blogger.com (The Working Girl) — Tue, 14 Oct 2014 09:30:00 +0000

by Justine Alim, MD-MBA

I am your typical-twenty-something-working-girl (although technically currently unemployed). Over the past 2 years, I have spent approximately 96 hours a week at the work place, with countless overnights at work. I’ve dedicated the last five months to preparing for 12 qualifying examinations that determined the fate of my professional career. On a daily basis, I can encounter up to 100+ clients, oftentimes with critical situations occurring at 3am when the team is sleep-deprived, hungry, exhausted, and out of patience. Like any working girl at the bottom of the totem pole, I suffer the wrath of my supervisors who (may or may not) think I’m idiot. I’m adored by my juniors who somehow believe I know everything (really, I just know a years’ worth of knowledge more than them). I grab beers with my colleagues at Frankie’s in Ortigas (excellent Parmesan wings) after a grueling day of work. I’m a slightly neurotic, Type A personality when necessary, passionate, ambitious twenty-something-working-girl with big dreams and a fairly decent brain to back it.

Oh, I’m also a doctor by the way. While the world assumes that this career is filled with hard decisions of life-and-death matters (which is true, except that being the youngest doctors in hospital I’m mostly watching not yet deciding), I’m mostly like any other working girl trying to learn the ropes and make a name for myself. Medical students love to bear the badge flaunting the incredible amount of stress we’re under, but the truth is everyone working hard chasing their big dream is under an incredible amount of stress. Just needed to clarify that while my situation is unique in a million ways, I’m actually a lot like you.

Now not to belittle the male gender (I know your #struggleisreal), but being a female with a career intrinsically comes with a lot of extra issues you boys don’t have to deal with. I’m a doctor, so of course I mean this in the most biological sense. Gender politics in the workplace have come a long way from our parents’ and grandparents’ generations. Traditional gender roles are constantly evolving in the setting of families where both parents work. I’m blown away by my married friends who find ways to make it work, who compromise and sacrifice to find that balance. (To all my happily married friends, I commend you on your happiness. I am sincerely jealous in an I’m-that-happy-for-you kind of way. Please keep making it work.) But this doesn’t change certain biological functions that females are required to carry out.

Thus despite with my busy life and the hundreds of things on my checklist to keep my mind preoccupied with, when I see my Facebook flooded with pictures of engagements, weddings and babies, I can’t help but sometimes on my dark days I curl up in bed and think (I’m going to be very brave right now and say this because I know you were all thinking it): I worry about my eggs drying up. The grueling part of studying the human body for 5 years is that I really know what that biological clock means. Ok eggs don’t literally “dry up”; it’s more of like the feasible ones run out after a certain age. I have an intricate knowledge of the reproductive system, fertility, and the development risks you run with each year you delay pregnancy after the age of 35. Can you see why my slightly neurotic brain can’t help but dwell on this? At the end of the day, I’m 27 and single and I have a double degree in medicine and business administration and yes I am still that girl worrying about her eggs drying up.

The point I’m driving at is that we have been raised in a world that engrains in you what I like to call The Milestone Timeline. The Milestone Timeline comes at you from all angles – family members asking you if you’re dating someone yet, the Young Adult books you read (let’s all just admit John Green’s our guilty pleasure), the romantic comedy films you watch (classic Disney princesses, I’m looking at you), that toothpaste commercial that promises you true love (which obviously equals marriage) if you have fresh enough breath and a charming smile. We are bombarded with the message that you grow up, find “the one,” fall in love, and live happily ever after. No one ever tells you the story of how the princess manages to run the finances an entire kingdom delicately balancing the supply of vegetables with the demands of the villagers while cooing her baby to sleep at night and knitting a scarf for her prince. There is no handbook for how the twenty-something-working-girl is supposed to chase her dream, get that master’s degree, cook dinner, find a husband, and still have time to go the gym. How are we ever supposed to keep up with this Milestone Timeline?!

As I pondered this one night, I discovered a rather efficient way to address this issue. I love efficiency. I call it a combination of growing up in fast-food culture + being American + having an MBA + my parent’s good sense in raising me + being a slacker that likes a lot of free time. I’m also very time poor – who has time to go on a date with a friend of a friend that I’m not even sure I have anything common with? Seriously, I could spend those precious hours showering, sleeping or eating. Medical students are basically devolved human beings after work hours, and we only have those three basic needs to survive until our next shift. During the time of my recovery-phase-post-four-year-relationship, I needed a time-efficient way to find a potential mate, I mean date. Because my eggs! I had no time to waste.

What exactly was that wonderful time efficient secret to solve my milestone dilemma? I’m going to be brave one more time and say this: online dating. Before you give me that condescending look based on your assumption that only desperate losers use online dating, hear me out. Or at least listen to my stories, have a good laugh at me, and give it a try yourself. Online dating worked for me for the following reasons:

Time efficient. In the time you spend waiting in a grocery line, you can scope out 2 dozen guys online and set up a week’s worth of dates compared to 3 pieces of eye candy at the grocery store you can drool over for 15 minutes without ever talking to.
I’m an introvert. Because of my colorful dating track record, people assume I “have game” and they can’t wait to “see me in action” when we go out. Thank you for that Barney Stinson reputation, guys (but we all know I’m Robin). The only reason online dating worked so well for me is because as an introvert, I naturally excel at communicating through writing. So I have a pretty superb profile (I’ve been told this countless times. It’s all about the external validation!). More importantly, small talk is a life-sucker for an introvert. Knowing ahead of time that we’ll have a sundry of topics we can talk about over dinner gives me the peace of mind that we’ll probably hit it off pretty well. So when I find myself running out of breath talking instead of running out of things to say, I know I’ve met someone worth keeping around for a while. Thus, I’m endlessly charming during one-on-one conversations with the right person, but equally awkward when spontaneously meeting new people I have no common ground with.
I’m complicated and fascinating and just as superficial as you are. I’ll be honest here. I put a height filter when I’m looking for matches. Being a 5’6” Filipina makes dating a real challenge in this country. Allow me this trivial superficiality. You can put whatever filter you want, be it religion, education, location, occupation, or something as silly as height. Maybe you want a 5’10” vegan astronaut who speaks Italian and lives within 10 miles from you? There are filters for that! You can look for exactly the person you think you want and no one is going to stop you. You’re allowed to say I want this and I don’t want this. I’m just not guaranteeing that you’ll find that very specific vegan astronaut you think you’re supposed to love.
I’m a multi-tasker. You can date multiple people at a time in a way that fits your crazy work schedule thus increasing your chances at choosing a winner! It’s all about the work-life balance right? (Date = go to dinner or have drinks. This does NOT mean being in a committed relationship then having several girls on the side. Please don’t be that d-bag).

At the beginning of the crazing online dating adventure, I had simple goals: meet new guys outside my social circle and figure out what kind of person would be a great complement to me as a life partner. Prior to this, I had only been in one serious long-term relationship. I really had no idea what I wanted in a guy, and I figured this would be a great time to figure it out rather than 30 years down the road with 3 divorces under my belt. A few harmless awkward dates are much easier to swallow by comparison. What I didn’t realize was how much I would figure out about myself as well – my tastes, my limits, what makes me light up and keeps me interested, my ability to bounce back from rejection and heartbreak, my immense faith that decent people existed behind these online profiles. I have a novel’s worth of crazy dating stories, and if you’d like to hear them in detail feel free to call me up for drinks. For the sake of brevity, here are the highlights*:

A bouquet of flowers was sent to my apartment after just a week of talking (just talking!) online with a guy in Los Angeles;
A guy of unrecalled ethnicity (all I remember is that he looked like Johnny Depp, I swear) invites me for dinner on Valentine’s, unbeknownst to me, in the red light district. In a moment of self-preservation, I lie about a car breakdown and have a wonderful sushi dinner on my own;
A tumultuous six-month pseudo-relationship with a Filipino-American in Manila somehow made me believe that falling in love again was a possibility only to devastate me a year later when I discover he’s seeing another girl. He also sang pretty well and ok he was really hot, which was probably the reason behind all of that and my semi-blind infatuation with him;
A 6-hour coffee date with save-the-world guy eventually ends up with me dating his Australian surgeon cousin for 2 weeks (we’re all great friends after everything);
An American social entrepreneur in Ethiopia decides to fly all the way to Manila for Valentine’s and a week vacation. We end up adventuring, dancing, laughing and wishing life could always be this easy (also still great friends until now);
A Spanish-Indian from Norway stays up with me until 3 am talking about books, movies, religion, philosophy and life before asking me permission to kiss me;
A kindred spirit / slightly lost boy who “just gets me” crosses my path at the perfectly wrong time in both of our lives (See Three Ingredient Pre-Requisite below. Timing is so crucial);
Other random dates include a DJ, physical therapist, a lawyer, a missionary, a Peace Corps volunteer, a Green Beret aka Mr. Army Navy, an African-American who worked with the US embassy + a degree in chemical engineering (we all assumed he was CIA or something. We’ll never really know.) that I once baked a blueberry cobbler with (no euphemism at all there), and a gorgeous Portuguese guy I unfortunately didn’t hit it off with (we would have made the cutest babies ugh).

Needless to say, I’ve met some incredibly interesting mostly good hearted people. This brings us up to the current times. Have I made any progress on The Milestone Timeline? I graduated from medical school, so I’d like to give a resounding YES. Any future husband in sight? Nope. Am I still bothered about it? Not nearly as much as I used to be.

To be quite honest, my career really is my priority right now. I have residency training to look forward to, patients to save, public health programs to develop, business enterprises to build. My horizon is endless! But it has never been about choosing between one or the other (career or wedded bliss), but rather finding a balance. The first step is finding the right person to help you balance it all. I’m looking for a teammate, not some love-sick boy to follow me around.

So what have I learned at the end of this crazy journey? I can’t say I’ve figured it out 100%, but through the course of this process I have developed a few theories that have held true with a 95% confidence interval when repeated under controlled circumstances. I mean, I have some theories about dating that I’ve worked out the past 2 years.

· The Three Date Rule. When I’m getting to know someone new, in general this takes about three dates. The first one is crucial – you both need to make a good impression, establish that you have chemistry. The guy needs to show that he’s worth entertaining on a second date. If you can seal the deal here, Date 2 is a give-away. If you flop on the second date, the memory of the amazing first date will cause your potential significant other to cut you a little slack. Date 1 was fire-works, maybe Date 2 was on a bad day or had bad traffic. Basically, you can get away without putting your best foot forward here. Date 3 is when you seal the deal for real, when you decide if this dating thing should persist for a few more weeks or the dbag that surfaced on Date 2 is actually his true human form.

· The Three Ingredient Pre-requisite = Chemistry + Compatibility + Timing. That’s it! With the right mix of these three ingredients, you have the perfect setting for potential dating spree. A lack in chemistry means you’ve stumbled upon your bro-friend not boy-friend. Without compatibility + overwhelming chemistry, expect to have a fun time flirting and fooling around. Don’t expect to have this last very long, or to have those insightful 3 am conversations. The absolute worst though is when you find someone who just gets you, that you’re irresistibly attracted to, but the timing is off – either one of you is unavailable, one of you is changing cities, your work schedules never coincide. A bit tragic, but you’ll escape harm free if you don’t get emotionally invested in someone who isn’t with you at the right time. If it was meant to be, your timing would be in sync. Take it as a big sign from the universe (Maybe you’re not seeing some of his red flags? Maybe he has too much emotional baggage? Maybe he never wants to have kids but you do?) that this is not the guy for you. This isn’t a hard and fast rule, and you can be successful with just 2/3 ingredients. Likewise even if you do have the magic 3, a real relationship takes commitment, trust, loyalty, love and a combination of a dozen other virtues.

Also, I have a few do’s and don’ts that have been reinforced through a series of double blinded random clinical trials. I mean dating attempts. Part of me subconsciously wants to say this was all done in the name of science. Here are the do’s and don’ts:

· Have faith in people. Give them the benefit of the doubt. Give someone a chance with that first date, because the trade-off is meeting someone intoxicatingly wonderful that you can’t get enough of versus an awkward 2 hours of small talk over a couple of beers. Fairly low risk right? We’re all looking for our special kind of amazing. Give someone the chance to show you how their amazingness.

· Don’t be stupid. These are technically blind dates with strangers, so make smart choices kids. Always make sure your first date is in a public place and let a friend know where you’ll be. Also, remember that your “no” really truly means no. Don’t get pushed around with that. Don’t be blind and stupid and let yourself repeatedly fall into abusive, hurtful, toxic relationships. Even if he buys you dinner and especially if he drives a nice car.

· Put yourself into the opportunity lane, whether this means trying that silly online dating site that everyone is gossiping about, going to that networking event, talking to a stranger in a bookstore who is holding that book that you have loved since you remember you started loving books. The damsel-in-distress is a tired role (haven’t you seen the new Disney princesses?), but so is the damsel-in-waiting. I’m not saying chase every cute boy you see like a crazy person. I’m saying to give yourself the opportunity to meet more people. Be proactive. (Also applicable to 99.9% of life dreams).

· One of my favorite children’s authors, Shel Silverstein, wrote this awesome book called The Missing Piece, which consequently has become the allegory in my search for “the one.” A circle with a pie piece cut out is searching for his missing piece. By the end of the book, he’s rolled around a huge hill and his missing part has been smoothened out. He’s whole now. He bumps into another whole circle, and the two of them happily roll away together. Stop looking for the missing piece, for that person you think will fix you and mend all wounds that idiots have inflicted on your heart. You need to be whole on your own. If you want to be with an amazing person, you need to bring some kind of amazing to the table. No one should have the burden of trying to fix someone or complete them.

· Be with someone who makes you want to be a better person. Don’t settle for less. Don’t be fazed by flashy cars and wining and dining, or for something (someone) conveniently present in your life. Don’t be scared of all the crap that has happened to you in the past; accept it and move onto being a better person. Be kind to someone with a messy past, they’re probably trying to be a better person today. Don’t tolerate someone who treats you like crap. Obvious, but we all need that reminder when hormones are raging and we’re not thinking too straight. Hold out for the best, for someone that challenges you to be your best.

In a world that thrives on external validation as a marker of success particularly with this thing called The Milestone Timeline, I am here and now proclaiming that I am done. I am done chasing a pre-determined milestone timeline; I’m just making things up as I go along. At the end of the day, I’m 27 and single and I have a double degree in medicine and business administration and I am AWESOME. And my eggs will not dry out, at least not tomorrow. I want/can/will have a successful career and personal life.

To the amazing man who has yet to stumble into my wonderfully chaotic life, I am currently chasing my dreams and if you’re up for an adventure with me, then you better start chasing too. I would absolutely love to have someone along for the ride.

*Names have been omitted, but I chose to include ethnicities to show that I’m an equal opportunity dater. If you recognize yourself in this article, please know that I deeply appreciate that our lives crossed at one point and truly wish you happiness and success in your life.

MUCH ADO

noreply@blogger.com (The Working Girl) — Mon, 29 Sep 2014 09:34:00 +0000

It cracks me up each time I read articles/lists about what people look for in potential partners. Somewhere there, you’ll most probably find “carries conversations well.”

And I just think, HERE WE GO.

Small talk seems to dominate social functions these days. Proof: I have always been clumsy with small talk (please see What Do You Do?). It was something I had to deliberately study. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one because Google gifted me with tons of hits when I looked up “how to make small talk.” The saddest thing about this is you walk away from so many people you chatted with feeling like you didn’t get to know any of them.

My guy best friend and I have lengthy discussions (at least 2 hours) about how rare good conversations are. You know those kinds that make you feel like you’ve acquired and felt so much just by talking to that other person/s? Better yet, like your soul was set on fire by another person's words.

The best kinds of conversations are the ones in which each gets to show he/she is without making the other feel bad about him or herself. Let’s put it in a less negative way: each gets to show who he/she and make them feel rewarded for having been so honest. The best conversations I’ve had were the ones that had a nice balance between listening and talking yourself.

Personally, I find silence tricky. There are times when you need to be responsive. I’d rather that he/she was responsive. Maybe it’s because I trust the wisdom of family and friends so much, I’m curious about how another person’s mind runs or i’m so embarrassed for being the one talking the most. Mostly it’s because I crave to see a point of view that doesn’t come from my personal bias.

We all like to have our voices heard. But we also like to be spoken to. Not to be dictated upon or to be told whether you’re wrong or right, or to be scolded or to be ordered what to do next. But, really, just to go through the ideas that come with the topic or the person in front of you. To me, it’s a sign that you’re making an effort to understand what was just presented and not allowing the conversation to stagnate as a one-way street. It’s tantamount to taking that brave step of showing me who you are by giving me your thoughts and deciding to verbalise them.

This is where manner begins to count. Do you talk to me in a condescending tone? A patronising one? When you take my opinions in, do you listen to them with the desire to use them as building blocks for a conversation that will evolve to something that we wouldn’t be able to think of individually? Or are you defensive or insistent only of your stand? These are questions I have to ask myself, too, if I were thrown into a conversation.

Amazing conversations are the ones held with so many ideas — either opposing or aligned to each other — that help the person become more of who he wants to become. Nobody feels unheard and nobody feels like he gave too much rendering the talk lopsided. Most importantly, each one seems to have been coaxed out of his shell to get some much needed sunlight that will illuminate the beautiful person that he is.

That’s where the biggest challenge lies, perhaps. How do you create a conversation like that?

It doesn’t have to be intelligent talk. It can be about the most mundane things. However, you must consider the following: Are you selfless enough to be able to listen and be welcoming of others’ thoughts? How tolerant are you of opposing ideas? Are you self-aware enough that you don’t just end up agreeing with the other person? Do you respect the other person’s ability to think, so much so that you do not feel attacked when he/she voices out her thoughts? After all, there is a very thin line between being confident about your thoughts and being abrasive. It takes so much control to not steamroll another person’s feelings and ideas without being dishonest to yourself.

The manner, motivation and sincerity count the most in the execution. These are the trickiest parts. The patience with the other. The courage to bring yourself forward.

Do this and you may have just set the ground for a conversation that could’ve ended up filled with taxing and mundane small talk. In the midst of that all, you may find what makes that person unique from everyone else you’ve met.

The funny thing is, there’s never been a blueprint for this. Sure, some people hit it off right away, but can they sustain it? There are those who were completely at odds at the beginning but evolved to be the best talking combinations I have seen. And then there are those who are on a roller coaster ride, and the ones who are just moving higher. In all those cases, conversational respect has been attained and constantly renewed.

And what’s it like finding something or someone like that? Like the universe aligned for you for that moment. It doesn't happen often. But I'd like to think it does.

P.S. We apologize for the hiatus. The non-virtual world called. We're back now. Hope you guys missed us enough to keep coming back.

AGAIN

noreply@blogger.com (The Working Girl) — Mon, 18 Aug 2014 09:33:00 +0000

People come into our lives and some are bound to leave. It’s a reality we’ve all had to deal with. So many songs, novels and movies have been made about this. Enough Thought Catalog, Elite Daily and Buzzfeed articles about letting go and moving on attest to this. There are times when people really have to go.

Though I am not that old yet, it seems that I’ve racked up enough number of years in my life to see some people come back. More than a few incidents have led me to completely agree that some people do returb in their own time. So when someone on Facebook posted this J.K. Rowling quote: “Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect.” All I could say to it was, RIGHT ON.

Having been on the receiving end of such “resurrections,” I’ve come to believe, that as hard as it is to let go of people and to learn not to wait for them, being open to the possibility of them coming back and seeing them do so are just as difficult.

Imagine this. Enough time has passed for the hurt to go away, for forgiveness to take the place of anger. At this point, you can already wholeheartedly believe that all that confusion, pain and sadness happened for a reason – that all of it has indeed made you stronger, as the cliché goes. There are no more hard feelings or any feelings at all. You are a different person now. You have learned to carry on with your life without the presence of someone who used to be around so often, without waiting or hoping for a return.

Then BOOM. The person comes back with a proposition: a clean slate, a fresh start.

A decade or so may have passed and you are both functioning with the full knowledge that things cannot and will never be the same again, that you both cannot play the same roles you did before – letting someone in again is still iffy. Saying yes to another chance, to me, is a bigger risk than the first time I said yes to it. Because the second time is often an ultra-conscious choice with historical data attached to it.

How on earth do you decide?

As is true with a lot of things at this point in my life, it’s one big gray area. No ready answer is available. Really, some people need to be kept out of our lives. “Toxic” was not a term created from myths. Many of us have to learn how to stop subjecting ourselves to self-inflicted pain. But others just may deserve another shot.

And if I were to be truly honest, I would want to keep saying yes. It is the acknowledgement that I cannot always take the easy way out and brush people off (heaven knows how difficult relating to people can be). It’s knowing that if I were to make my life story worth anything, I have to take risks. More importantly, it’s a show of trust in others, myself and life, in general. It’s a declaration that I have enough faith that things may be different this time, and if all this fails yet again, I will know how to handle myself and it will be just another way to grow -- as cheesy as this sounds.

All I can really think of is this: how else can we know if anything’s worth the risk when we don’t give it the chance to manifest its worth?

Note from writer: As an exercise, replace the word “people” with any of the following: friends, lovers, relatives, places, jobs, things, events, circumstances, or whatever is applicable to your life.

THURSDAY THINGS.

noreply@blogger.com (The Working Girl) — Thu, 14 Aug 2014 09:30:00 +0000

Hello all!

My wonderful partner in crime (WG 1) surprised me with a curious email last Monday. I originally had a different topic in mind but then decided that I would dedicate this week's post to pulling the rug under her. You know as friends ought to do. So drum roll, please...

GIF Source: lindseygail10.wordpress.com

We're participating in the Big Blog Exchange! (Again, we may have mentioned that this blog runs on our hormones.) WG 1 entered the blog last Monday and here we are. One of the goals of this blog has always been to reach a larger audience to share whatever lovely stories we (or even you guys) have. So joining this contest will hopefully help us do just that. Now for the mandated (non-shameless) plug.

VOTE FOR US!

(Pretty please, with cherries on top.)

If you vote for us, a special performance from the singularly awesome WG 1 may be in your future. Our resident banker has some seriouz "The Voice" skillz people. And because I love her to bits, here is a sample of her singing prowess.

Click Here to See Live Musical Performance by WG 1.

See you guys, next week! ;)

TABULA RASA

noreply@blogger.com (The Working Girl) — Mon, 11 Aug 2014 09:30:00 +0000

I’m currently reading World War Z and I’ve been reminded of a pretty cool history prof I had in college. At the start of our semester with him, he required us to submit index cards with our names, year and major. At the back, we needed to answer this question: If there was a zombie apocalypse, where would you hide and what skill do you have now will keep you alive?

Having been a fan of Left 4 Dead, I took that one very seriously. I found, not surprisingly, that there was nothing much that would help me survive. I was a math major. I could run, but not very fast. I don’t have extended training in martial arts and my ability to survive in the wilderness was primarily based on common sense.

Survival 101: Stay away from zombies and make your own food. GIF Source: hellogiggles.com

As strange as it is, that question stuck with me way after graduation. There are really times when I sit and wonder what if that day does come? When the world as we know it suddenly comes to an end — tabula rasa? What happens then?

Depending on my mood, the answer differs. But if it’s in a time when I’m particularly stressed or tired, the thought of a world where things go back to their very basic form is exceptionally exciting.

Imagine if you were a one of the people trying to survive a zombie apocalypse in World War Z, a man of Gondor in Lord of the Rings, one of the medieval knights whose major concern is protecting the code of chivalry and your kingdom, a wizard at the peak of Harry Potter’s war with Voldemort, or a Narnian trying to fight the White Witch. These people were situated in a time where choices were with much less gray areas. They pick a side: good or bad, live or die (sometimes the side is picked for them) — then they go to war and fight. And if they get killed in the process, then that’s it. Game over.

No reports, no computers, no smartphones, no loans and mortgages, no financial and stock markets. Just them trying to escape with their lives or being able to fight for whatever/whoever they choose to stand with.

To be honest, I would probably die in all those stories. What I’m good at are not very useful against the undead and most weapons, medieval or otherwise. I seriously doubt knowing finance and math would be very helpful if a zombie’s trying to eat me. But I honestly would love to be in their place.

Times like this, when I let my mind wander freely this way, I begin to completely understand why many opt to leave their seemingly wonderful lives behind to go off to mountains, forests or oceans, completely divested of what they once had.

The world that we are all in now is so convoluted that so many of us get burnt out at such a young age. It’s a world where you have to deal with living in a system that thrives in its complexity. We have created jobs, systems and devices for the strangest and smallest things. To maintain a perceived level of success that you have achieved, you have to abide by so many spoken and unspoken rules – and keep up with so many updates on those rules. We have added layer upon layer of processes on things that could be straightforward. And, worse, we have resorted to overthinking our own lives so much just to be able to dig through the rubble and find what’s in the very core of our existence. There are so many wants that we may have overlooked needs.

Life could be simpler.

No profound conclusion for me this week. Just a wish for simplicity. I’m still in a life that is inevitably lived in a complicated and I don’t see myself leaving it soon. Partly because I can’t leave it unless I die. Mostly because I think there’s hope in and purpose for all of this. I have enough people surrounding me who has proven to me that giving up is not the only option.

It’s a race to many, and I could not disagree. But maybe I can run the race differently.

______________________________

P.S.

The history professor is Brian Giron. He has a very nice answer to where he would hide.

I’m pretty sure he would survive said invasion. But I don’t think I could divulge it here.

It would spoil the surprise for those who will be taking his class. If you want to know, ask us directly.

THURSDAY THINGS.

noreply@blogger.com (The Working Girl) — Thu, 07 Aug 2014 09:30:00 +0000

Today's Things: Vanity & Skin Protection

A lot has been happening in our lives recently and there are times when I lose track of what day it is. In sum, there have been a myriad of beginnings and endings for both me and WG 1. (Ohh intriguing.) Anyway, this week we shall delve into one of my random helpful life tips. (The last one was cleaning related.)

One of the highly unrealistic expectations from women (or girls) is *caring too much* about their physical appearance. (Subtopics include: make up, clothes, shopping) Now as I have repeatedly told my mother, I am a girl despite not being keen on masquerading around like a Barbie. I do respect people who have a genuine respect for people who treat their physical selves as a canvas for their internal voice.

So today’s tip will also be a surprise because it does entail a bit of vanity. I am here to proclaim the many benefits of skin care, specifically the use of sunblock.

After telling a friend that I religiously use sun protection, he knowingly said, “But isn’t that just for the beach?” I am using all of my strength to not be snarky at this point. I’m weak. I retaliate with, “So apparently the sun is only out when you’re on vacation?” Guys, as it just happens we’re lucky enough that the sun won’t be dying in our lifetime. So yes, sunblock everyday even on cloudy days.

On the superficial side, yay no wrinkles. On the serious side, yay no skin cancer.

Yep, crispy skin is not hot. Except for food maybe. Image source: allthingsmegha.com

Now cue the chorus of “what every day, I don’t even moisturize daily.” (That is another problem to be discussed at another time.) Yes, even if every fiber of your being is nooo I am too lazy. I was that lazy person, friends. And I know exactly how that feels. It took a while before I stuck to my daily routine. If you take a bath daily, you can put on some sunblock after. Numerous articles have cited that a shot glass full is the right amount to slather over your precious skin.

I do know that this advice can fall on deaf ears. WG 1’s running post has yet to have an actual effect on my (non-existent) workout regimen. But like my mother who is usually the source of all wisdom, at the end of the day I just want to be able to say – I told you so. :)

Okay, see you next week!!!

DREAMS

noreply@blogger.com (The Working Girl) — Mon, 04 Aug 2014 09:30:00 +0000

Meals shared with family or friends, nights spent drinking and talking, driving around in the city or a road trip. These are hours possibly filled with discussions about dreams and aspirations — what we are working and hoping for in life.

Growing up, I remember playmates saying they wanted to be doctors, lawyers or pilots. As I was getting older, the ambitions became more specific: study in Wharton/Harvard/Johns Hopkins; have a business doing *insert some scheme that will make them roll in money*; get into social enterprise and help the poor; be famous; live and work abroad.

Magazines and self-help books are overrun with cliches telling us to “be you.” And I get it. Give too much weight to what others have going on for themselves and you run the risk of clouding what your “real self” desires. But, in all honestly, it’s not always easy to remain deaf and immune to all this big talk being thrown around.

After witnessing discussions of end games and gameplans, I have occasionally found myself looking at my own dreams, asking, Why is it that I don’t seem to want the same things that they do? Are my own dreams too small and simple? Am I slacking off and choosing to be content with what is merely passable?

Most of the time, I try not to beat myself up when I start talking to myself this way. I take it as something inevitable when you’ve just come from a session of “Life Thus Far and Future Goals Presentation” with people whose intellect, drive and constitution you respect.

It can be extra unnerving when you seem to stick out like a sore thumb from the group. Worse when family, friends or SOs begin pinning hopes and ambitions on you. There's a doubting feeling that starts creeping up on you, one that affects even the best of us — whether young or not too young anymore. And it can easily escalate to a state of trying to determine if my current dreams are the "right ones."

It’s time like these, ones that are of extreme agitation, when it dawns on me why people say that you’re not supposed to compare yourself to others.

Personal ambitions start in a certain form. Then, over time, they change. They do so because we change. What fulfils us and makes us happy changes over time, and we tweak our dreams to transform them into ones that are more attuned to who we really are.

So, the "rightness," perhaps, lies in how much of your dreams answer to the call of our identity, how much of it addresses our happiness and self-realisation (hello, philo professors).

Several friends are devoting their lives to social enterprises and non-profit organisations. My grade school best friend shifted out of a pre-medicine track to be a theatre major and is now working on her dream. An entrepreneur friend fights very hard daily to build his business empire. Others are happily sticking to the corporate world, proving to naysayers that there is more to it than just being a “corporate slave.” Some are raising their families. All have varying goals, but all adamantly holding on because these are choices they decided for themselves. To them, I give my highest respect.

My mom has always told me that competition should only be with myself, not with others. My younger brain translated it to: don’t be mad at your classmates or friends if they end up doing better than you. I understand this a little differently now. It’s a contest revolving around how I allow myself to be truly who I am.

So maybe my dreams are not the same as my friends’. They may also be different from what my parents hope for me to chase. And they will, occasionally, disconcert me. But I have to stand my ground. Because just as how I respect my friends' chosen paths, I must respect my own desires, wants and ambitions. I must respect my dreams.

WG VL

noreply@blogger.com (The Working Girl) — Mon, 28 Jul 2014 09:30:00 +0000

On vacation leave. Off trying to become Lara Croft.

THURSDAY THINGS.

noreply@blogger.com (The Working Girl) — Thu, 24 Jul 2014 09:30:00 +0000

Today’s Thing: DIY All-Purpose Cleaning Spray

I know. You’re all like, “Did I just stumble into some weird DIY mommy blog? I thought this was for twenty-somethings and their transitional lives, yuppie problems, etc.” Well yes, dear you are not lost. Now to divulge even more personal details about me and WG 1, we’re both part of the workforce and we both live away from home. We’re what Ne-Yo sings about in that song (Miss Independent).

So this doesn’t mean all rainbows and fun nights out. This means we deal with a lot of house chores. For the lucky ones who have decided to live at home with their parents, I envy you I do. I never realized how many mundane little errands had to be done in order to maintain a healthy living environment. Although my mom can attest that I have not always been keen on keeping whatever sort of standard of cleanliness. She loves mentioning the state of my college dorm room as proof.

Before my incessant Googling and Internet use, my mom was my go-to expert for all things domestic. (I have a lot of moments that I regret living in a city alone without my free on-call cleaning expert.) These days, I have found a treasure trove of useful advice online from the millions of mom bloggers out there who do-it-all in picture perfect lighting. So in one of my weird Google searches I hit this jackpot.

DIY All-Purpose Cleaning Spray

Combine all the ingredients below in a bottle spray.

1 part water

1 part white vinegar (preferably distilled)
1 tablespoon dishwashing liquid
8-10 drops essential oil (optional)

Yes, I am in fact your fairy godmother. And no I do not have a ballgown for you. GIF Source: rewards4mom.com

This magical cleaning solution has saved me the time and effort it takes to deal with my mortal enemy -- DUST. The kind of dust in my area is dark black and sticky (due to unknown reasons). And the vinegar in this spray helps get it off surfaces. I just spray and wipe. This is magic that’s way better than Wingardium Leviosa. So here’s my sales pitch, this solution is food safe and economical. You don’t have to worry if whatever chemicals you’ve been spraying around the house is getting into your system. (I see you there, drop that Lysol.)

In my quest to spread the good news, I shared this gem with my lovely friend WG 1. When I was crashing in her condo, I was feeling a bit ‘cleaning lady’ crazy. (I know I got it from my mom.) Her confused face was one that I also had when I read about this miracle in a bottle. I told her to trust me. She did and, in return, I got a text message filled with awe, joy, capital letters and exclamation points.

Currently, the manner in which I use this spray is still subject to blogger mom approval because I usually just aim and spray on anything that’s remotely dirty. (Let’s say it together: trigger happy.) This is a very unscientific process of trial and error that occurs during weekends when I’m supposed to do general cleaning. So I encourage you to use it on anything dirty that has been haunting you and your dreams.

Go practice making this potion, and I’ll see you next week. I’ll be inspecting those counters with a white glove.

SHARING STORIES

noreply@blogger.com (The Working Girl) — Tue, 22 Jul 2014 09:30:00 +0000

It's WG 2 here. This week we have something new for you. A friend honored us greatly by volunteering to tell us her story. We created this special section for her and anyone who wants to tell their story (boy or girl, it doesn't matter. Girls may run this blog, but it's not only for girls).

We started this blog because we wanted to have a different voice that still rings true about the issues we face as twentysomethings. I, for one, have read a tad too much hate on millennials in the workplace. So, we thought, it's time to flip to the other side of the coin.

We start this by sharing our stories.

____________________________

There comes a time in our lives when we have to make the choice of pursuing happiness or pursuing duty. For most of us, that time is when we hold in our hands that opaque sheet of paper stating our name and degree in some cursive font, making it look official. For some of us, that time is after we have spent months or even years being part of the work force in an industry we probably weren’t sure about when we decided to take the job.

For me, it was definitely the latter. I graduated and even if I had (still have) dreams of being a social entrepreneur, I set them aside like a responsible fresh grad, and told myself, “I need this experience. I might have to work in different industries before I start pursuing my personal goals.” And so I did.

I wanted a marketing position, and that was (happily) my first job with an IT firm. It was a really good time for me. I got to work with inspirational people and learned an infinite amount of things. The creative side of brainstorming for the brand, the dull admin stuff they don’t teach you in school like work email etiquette and paper trails for project flow. Building a website from scratch and hiring interns (imagine people working for me), were just some of the highlights of my first love slash first job. I felt every new experience was helping me build a stronger backbone for the work force.

I would have liked to stay longer but providence gave me the opportunity to try out an operations job with a retail company. I decided to go for it. This was definitely something I could learn from, I thought. This job was way different than my previous one, definitely far from my early marketing work, but it was interesting and I did take away a lot from it. Being part of operations, I had to handle and manage the retail store. This meant being in the company’s front lines and interacting with customers. It was pretty exciting. I learned how to manage time and people, especially with the variety of customers we encountered. I’m proud to say that I was able to make significant decisions that led to a more efficient operations system, even integral training plans for potential employees.

Two years into that and honestly, I didn’t think that I’d be this burnt out. There are days that I struggle to keep my emotions intact (crying at random hours of the day and to your mother is NOT fun), or days when I lose sight of the big goal. My health was constantly on the decline, what with 16-hour shifts (hello overtime) that could go on for three to four days or more. This lead to an issue with my thyroid (serious but I’m better) and hospital visits almost three times a week spanning a few months. Also, they never tell you that the hardest part of a job is working with people. We come in all shapes and sizes, and sometimes that means we don’t always mix well together but it’s work so we have to.

There were times I felt that there must be more to this robotic, unhappy routine of a job. At times, it was like trying to light a candle with a wet match, it just didn’t work; there was no win-win. I’m not trying to say that I want it easy. I know that I could take the job, but it was more of asking myself, “Can I do this for another 5 years or 10 years?” Simple answer, no. That’s when it dawned on me: I can keep on being sad and unhappy with my situation or I can go and pursue what I really want (work in marketing). That choice was given to me right off the bat; I just decided to try a different path at first. Hoping I could learn the ropes and then have my happy ending.

When I think about the motivation behind my desire to work in marketing, it reminds me of the time that as a child I had the makings of a little brand ambassador (before it was even popular). As I grew older, I was always fascinated with how companies built their brands; how they knew their target markets so well that they understood their wants intuitively. This was something I felt close to, in a way. In college, I got to do events management for the different student organizations I joined. This was another piece of the marketing pie, despite being quite stressful, I genuinely enjoyed.

Of course, it’s not like the movies where at the point of epiphany, I suddenly have everything going on for me. I had to sit myself down and be honest with myself. It really was not an easy process because even if I was struggling in my retail post, I didn’t want to think about what I wanted to do, who I really wanted to be, and what I had to do to get there, because I knew it would be hard work. And the thing was, I was afraid. If I made the wrong move that would be it for me. I could have had it easy and stuck with my seemingly stable job. But I knew deep down, this was not me. I was always in the pursuit of happiness or in the pursuit of things that would give my life a sense of purpose. Powered by the same feelings of possibility that generations before us have come to experience at this age, I firmly believed in my ability to make a dent in the world.

And I knew that I needed to do something, anything if I wanted change. Figuring out that I wanted to go back to marketing was one thing. Doing something about it was another. I’d have to concentrate on specific job openings and update my skill set. It’d be like going back to square one but I was ready to take the risk. Those early dreams of becoming a social entrepreneur and getting a Master’s degree came into focus. I was slowly discovering the direction I wanted to take.

I know that thinking of these things alone can either make or break your plan, that’s why I have also turned to the people I trust the most to help me along the way. Sometimes, being part of the work force makes you feel like you’re all alone, but that is definitely not true, and it’s nice to be reminded that there are people who are going through the same feelings you are, and who are willing to help you come up from the ashes.

Working for different industries and companies in the span of two years, is a bit much, some people would say. But to me, I’ve taken so much from it, and I have a lot to be thankful for. I might have had to suck it up every once in a while, but at the end of the day, that’s life. I would not trade the experience and lessons learned the past two years for anything else.

At this point of the story, it looks like I’ve already reached the pinnacle of success, but I’m sorry to say that this story really isn’t about getting to the top. Yes, I’ve quit my job, and no I don’t have another one lined up, but now I know what I really want to do with my time and my life. And I have accepted that I’m just not there yet. I have had arguments with the people I care most about (Hi Mom), but I know in my heart of hearts that I’m doing the right thing.

It’s like that quote from the show How I Met Your Mother where Ted says, "If you’re not scared, you’re not taking a chance. And if you’re not taking a chance, then what the hell are you doing?" I know I’m taking a HUGE chance right now, but I know I’m getting there, one plan and step at a time, and with a clearer picture in my head as I move along.

Here’s to breathing in a sign of new life, happiness, hope, and making a dent in this world.

TALKING TO OURSELVES

noreply@blogger.com (The Working Girl) — Mon, 21 Jul 2014 09:30:00 +0000

I wrote this a few months back. It was a strange time. For very specific reasons, my sense for the “lostness” that so many of us feel occasionally or quite often was unusually heightened. Partly, this was written to admit to myself that there are many things that I am afraid of. Mostly, I wrote this to comfort myself.

Originally posted in my Facebook account, I am publishing this here now to remind me of that time. Also so I could remember that this is the piece that finally got me back into writing.
____________________________

At some point in our lives, we will be forced to ask the questions, “Who am I? Where am I going? What do I want?”

More often than not, these deeply unsettling and excruciatingly difficult questions come at the heels of some tragic, painful or disconcerting experience. A break up, dissatisfaction with work, a serious illness, some failure, a stupid choice, a series of stupid choices, general discontentment – times when what you thought you knew about yourself crumble or simply disappear.

The questions come once or several times in a lifetime. It would be lovely if there were ready answers to them each time they’re asked. For the ones who’ve figured it out, they do have go-to answers. But for the ones who are not there yet, there is this: I don’t know.

Once the three words are unleashed, they act like venom creeping into your bloodstream. Life begins to feel like falling into a blackhole: nothing to hold on to, no end in sight.

Maybe it’s the pace of our lives, the goals that we were conditioned to achieve, our general lifestyle that puts emphasis on end-products and results. Or maybe it’s the internet and innumerable self-help books and articles plaguing us with guidelines on how to live life. Perhaps it’s also because of the overwhelming number of possibilities and power given to us nowadays that we are forced to answer these questions frequently. Or our own impatience with ourselves.

The temptation to stand still and be frozen in the uncertainty is more real than we consciously know. Taking one step in any direction can seem to be “too risky.” What if I choose the wrong path and find out too late? What if my choice is not actually mine? And so the conscious examination of your life continues.

Times like these, when there seems to be no sense of security, it is important to be still. Withdraw from the world. Take a break and look into your soul. For how else will you know yourself? Ask the questions that have been waiting to be asked. Acknowledge them. Face them.

Company can be stifling during moments of inner struggle, but it is a necessity. We are always in danger of being too withdrawn, too caught up with our own thoughts, forgetful that the world is out there waiting for us, that human beings cannot be truly realized without interaction with others.

The ones who loved us before we were anything. The ones who have been there while we were trying to be something. The ones who want us to be whatever makes us happy and realize our potential in the best ways possible. These are the people who will reorient you, who will be able to make you feel that, yes, you don’t know where you’re headed now. But that’s ok. You’ll get there. Take that step, whichever direction it brings you. If it doesn’t pan out, we’ve got you.

As you go along, surrounded by this kind of support that allows you to carry on and stretch your boundaries, you slowly comprehend that the questions may not require an answer now. And the real danger may lie in the reality that the search and quest for our “identity” and “destination” can be so engrossing that we tend to forget that maybe the answers are not found and determined at the start of our journey but created and made along the way. The answers to life’s questions depend on the process of living life and not just the end goal we conceptualized.

With this in mind, maybe what we should ask ourselves more is “What kind of person do I want to become?”

It may sound like a less direct plan, opposed to what we have been told to “follow your passion” and “eyes on the prize.” But it would make us less prone to despair when things do not seem to be on our side. It gives room for flexibility and creativity without being directionless and lost.

I would think that the best way to live your life is when you look back and find that, hey, the response to my existential questions were not found in a list of "things to achieve." They manifested themselves through what I did on a daily basis, actions guided by knowing the kind of human being I wanted to become. Somehow, some way, I got myself to a place where I can say I have dedicated my life to becoming this kind of human being. Living everyday, making decisions and acting on them. Slowly, I got here. And now, I have my answers.

THURSDAY THINGS.

noreply@blogger.com (The Working Girl) — Thu, 17 Jul 2014 09:30:00 +0000

Today’s Thing: #ReliefPH #GlendaPH

Tuesday and Wednesday saw typhoon Glenda (international name: Rammasun) enter Philippine territory. A lot of my friends in Metro Manila got stuck in their homes without water and electricity (including WG1). Thankfully, some offices had people go home early the day before the typhoon’s expected landfall.

Still many of them, especially the ones who live alone, remembered how tough the typhoon season is as they dealt with anxiety over their personal safety. They have it better than most. But their experiences remind WG1 and me that the damage from these typhoons are real.

This season is a constant reminder to the Filipino people that we still have a long way to go. Rather than talk about resiliency and hope, I want to put the focus on action. Let’s all do what we can to help.

You can donate online through the Philippine Red Cross.

<http://www.redcross.org.ph/>

For relief operation centers in your area, you can check Rappler and ReliefPH for updated lists.

<http://www.rappler.com/move-ph/63471-reliefph-help-victims-glendaph>

<http://www.reliefph.com/>

Image Source: Rappler.com

Emergency contact information (originally posted here):

PAGASA
Hotline: (02) 433 – ULAN (433 – 8526)

NDRRMC (National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council)
Hotline: (02) 911-1406; (02) 912-2665; (02) 9125668

MMDA
Hotline: 136 (MMDA Metrobase); (02) 882-4177 or (02) 8820925 (Flood Control)

DPWH
Hotline: (02) 304-3713

DOTC
Hotline: 7890, (0918) 884-8484

Philippine Red Cross
Hotline: 143, (02) 911-1876

Meralco Emergency
Hotline: 16211
SMS: 0920-9716211(SMART); 0917-5516211(GLOBE)

Philippine National Police
Hotline: 117
SMS: Send TXT PNP to 2920

For more information on typhoon Glenda, visit Rappler.

See you next week, take care guys.

NOSTALGIA

noreply@blogger.com (The Working Girl) — Mon, 14 Jul 2014 09:30:00 +0000

These days, I am most often in touch with college friends. Most probably because the bonds we formed in those years are fresher than the ones I had when I was in high school. Being with any of them is very rare, so when I got to be with two high school classmates whose intelligence and guts I admired back then and until now, I went home feeling strange, in a good way.

At 16, we three had left our hometown to study in our chosen universities. Two of us went to the same one but had different majors and circles of friends. The third one was in a different university not too far from the two of us, but far enough to not see each other for more than once a year. It’s been eight years since those years in high school (do the math and you’ll figure out how old I am), and we had not sat down together like that since our late nights for the school paper.

We hit the ground running with, “Whatever happened to…?” It was both amazing and alarming how, in the last eight years, people have managed to get married, have children and get separated. In those same years, many have moved forward in their careers and have begun to make names for themselves.

Inevitably, the updates were entwined with reviving memories. Honestly, bringing those memories back isn’t one of my favourite past times. You know how people reminisce and end up asking themselves, “What were you thinking?” I lose count of the times I ask myself that when high school is brought up.

In my head, that period has been relegated to the four years that I had to go through to get to college. Not out of bitterness. I've already found those things ridiculous and plain funny. It’s more of me not knowing what I get out of discussing those days. I mostly just get realisations about how high school is a place where a few hundred people’s raging hormones, teenage angst and pre-adolescent temperament were crammed into one place. The best recipe for disaster.

But when that night with my friends was over, somehow, I felt like it was just right to be going through those days again.

First, because we were together in high school, that time in human lives that spawned movies like Mean Girls, Breakfast Club and Cruel Intentions. High school was four years of fun, drama, and controversy. They were somewhat witness to mine, and vice versa.

The limit to high school cringe-worthy experiences. (GIF Source: survivingcollege.com)

Second, and more importantly, timing seemed to be good. Eight years have elapsed since graduation. We were out of high school long enough to be able to look at things that happened then from a good distance, allowing me to see those years as formative and not take everything too personally anymore. Many of the wounds have healed, and time has given us new experiences that eclipsed what we went through in high school, both the good and the bad. Enough time has passed for us to be able to say, in what I hope is a mature voice, that there were things I could have done differently, but they happened and are part of my personal history — for better or for worse.

Yet we were not too far along life that there is not much to look forward to except to wait for our lives to be snuffed out of us. We are smack in the middle of our twenties. There is so much going on for us now, and so much is still in store for us.

Sitting there and hearing how batchmates’ and our own lives are turning out got me thinking that movies about high school reunions do not truly capture the different faces of success; neither do they fully show how the paths to happy and good lives vary so much. People have moved abroad to see the world, found love in the strangest places, and have pursued careers that we did not expect. As for us three, one was returning to our hometown, where family and a family business await. The other was settling into married life while building a career. I am also trying to establish a career, but as a single woman.

Things now are starkly different from what we had then. Our high school selves were primarily preoccupied about school, surviving the teasing and stereotypes, having friends, and “the future.” Now, we have or are trying to have careers, family duties, and are able to legitimately weigh in on issues heatedly discussed in the world. For one, my married friend and I were particularly engrossed by Sheryl Sandberg’s Lean In and “having it all” as women and men. We were already living in “the future” that we were thinking of in high school. Many times that night, I was pleasantly surprised and filled with pride for friends and classmates.

Though I cringed many times at the memories we unearthed, it was quite like having a fresh breath of air. It was a kind of conversation that I’d love to have versions of at certain points in my life.

It was another one of those times when I don’t feel so bad about growing older. For one, it got me out of high school. But the best part is, I get to have conversations like this.

It was a trip down memory lane but not one that dwells on the past, focusing on reviving it, pining for it, or regretting the things in it. Rather, a trip that makes you train your eyes on the future by arming you with the knowledge that you’ve gone through enough to earn you the right to have a little swag in your step, and also reminds you that you have a long way to go. Looking back and looking ahead mixed nicely together, making the whole "living life" concept more rewarding and exciting.