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[vergelle]

Growing up bunso

I grew up with four older siblings. Being the youngest in the family, I’ve always felt that our whole pack was there to support me—‘Mama’s one way ticket to fame’ as Ate Cheenee once described—through all my endeavors and growing pains.

Like that time when I was in fifth grade, we had a science project on plate tectonics and my group had a fall-out. I was left alone and didn’t know what to do. When the situation eventually came to Mama’s knowledge, our whole family immediately became my new group. My siblings began helping me draw and paint continents on Styrofoam, Uncle Norman solicited our neighbor’s help cutting them with his melting machine, and Mama helped me paste them all together in a board longer than my eleven-year-old body. It was a busy weekend in our living room, with us kids working slumped on the cold, terracotta-red floor. I did better than my old group mates for that project. Many years later, when Ate Chi came back to our school as a teacher, she saw the whole diorama still in the Science Laboratory, where the school kept it as a teaching material.

My family was also there for every foundation day costume and prop, every home economics project that needed a little more wood glue or straighter stitch, every campaign bookmark I distributed when I ran for student council positions.

I would always think “nagkakagulo ang buong barangay (it’s a riot in the whole community)” whenever I’d find myself in a school bind. The whole family had been there to help me maximize my formative years.

7-12

I was in grade school and Ate Chi was in high school when she learned how to ride the family scooter. With her newly acquired skill, we drove around our village one weekend afternoon. I rode standing on the seat behind her, my hands on her shoulders as she carefully slowed down and accelerated after ever hump. Wind blowing my hair out of my face, I could see everything from above her head. It never occurred to me then that it was dangerous to ride standing on a scooter. Thankfully, Aling Rose, our help who ironed our clothes weekly, saw us and told Mama about it. The scooter was sold faster than we could say ‘joyride’.

Ate Chi was my frenemy as a kid. We stayed together in school the longest among us siblings. She’d drop by my grade school classroom early in the morning, find ways to tease me like parading my utility bag to my other early bird classmates and having them guess what’s inside (it was an extra underwear and soap). I hated her guts, but then I’d still drop by her high school classroom and enjoy the attention as ‘Vera’s younger sister’.

Once on our way to school, we had a high school bus-mate making insinuations about me and Kuya Janno. Ate Chi often called shotgun of that L300 van, seated in front separate from the rest of the students at the back. But she heard the comments from the back of the van and felt they were uncalled for, so when we stopped at a red light, she got off the vehicle, opened the back door and gave our bus-mate a slap in the cheek. Granted they were friends-turned-enemies, so the taunts were not unexpected, but Ate Chi nonetheless drew the line: “Not my siblings”. She got sent to the principal’s office after that. Mama eventually pulled us out of that bus service and we had to take the daily commute thereafter. I would doze off on her shoulder during most jeepney rides and drool all over her sleeve. I embarrassed her every time, but she never interrupted my sleep until we reach our stop. During those days, I kept telling everyone that she’s my favorite sibling.

13-16

I was very emotional growing up. Like a kid who’s not yet potty-trained, I didn’t yet know how to manage my feelings well. My siblings had to bear with my outbursts during those years of growing up together. Once I got mad at Ate Verna during dinner and threw a fork at her. She didn’t flinch when it hit her cheek and a tiny drop of blood started to surface. In silence she looked at me as if saying, “Look at what you’ve just done”. It was a hallmark lesson on many things for me, mainly inertia (a fork thrown will eventually hit something) and the integumentary system (it bleeds).

The lesson on maturity, however, was still a long way to go. I also remember feeling so pissed at Kuya Ja during yet another dinner, that in all my rage I threw an empty Yakult bottle at him. This time I had already intended to hit, but much to my frustration, I missed (I had already learned the rudiments of physics by then, but my kinematics apparently was still amiss).

In high school, my outbursts eventually turned into introspections (in those days they call it “emo”) and I started noticing a lot of Kuya Ja’s stresses as well as my own. On top of schoolwork and volleyball, he was burdened the most with housework. He was best at mopping the floors because he always moved the heavy, wooden furniture just so he won’t miss a spot. Mama was very meticulous. I always thought Kuya Ja was somehow ripped for a teenager with all the literal heavy lifting. If I’m being honest, though, he was best at everything else at home, including cooking and taking care of our dogs. No matter the stresses of his day, he would always have time for the dogs.

He and I spent many evenings together in the dirty kitchen of our home, while I wash the evening dishes and he feeds the dogs, takes them out for a short walk and trains them, all before doing homework. I’m not entirely sure how I ended up with the dishwashing. Sometimes I think it’s because I’m bunso and had no younger siblings to pass it on to. But more often, I think it’s because it’s the least I can do to unburden Kuya Ja. I learned the religious kind of mortification in school, and chores became my own little way of self-denial. I learned from Kuya Ja how to stack the dirty dishes in the most stable way (you find the lowest possible stack to get a center of gravity closest to the base) and how to ensure that the plastic microwaveables are squeaky clean. To this day, I still love dishwashing. Kuya Ja and I often joke that if there’s a degree on it, I’d already have my masters degree because, of course, he got the PhD.

A significant amount of personal growth happened in front of the sink. It’s where I let my anger simmer, where I chose to forgive when I felt wronged, where I thought that perhaps I was not, in fact, wronged. Perhaps the water and soap suds helped calm me down. All those times with Kuya Ja triggered a sense of justice in me and made me realize the amount of privilege I had as the least burdened child in the family, because I was viewed as the most promising one.

17-21

While burning the midnight oil in college, I began internalizing the next phase of our lives and would often cry quiet tears. It dawned on me that my siblings’ beds were getting emptied one by one. It was Kuya Xerxes who first moved out for a clerkship out of town. I thought his leaving would not be a big deal — because of our 8-year gap, it was natural that he already had a group of his own when I was growing up. But I still missed him. I’d relive moments that I felt I didn’t enjoy enough as they were happening, the times he and his best friend picked us up from school, that time he chased me with a broom to give me a deserved spanking (I mean, who chases kids for that?), that time I snooped at his poems, which made me realize my brother was introspective after all. In hindsight, this tiny regret led to my tendency to gravitate towards people I can look up to as big brothers in the next phases of my life.

One school day, I looked out of the window and saw that my brother has come back home from his clerkship. He was standing outside admiring the house. I teared up a little and ran down to greet him.

Eventually, though, Kuya moved to the Middle East. Ate Chi moved next to Jakarta, followed by Kuya Ja. With a little knowledge in macroeconomics now, I felt a bit of frustration at the lived experience of not having career options good enough for my siblings back home. I consoled myself with the idea that good families are built for children leaving.

22-26

Adulthood was hard for a sheltered kid like me. I enjoyed a taste of independence when I spent a 7-week internship out of town, but living away for full-time work came the other side of the coin: responsibility. It meant embracing the everyday grind and blending that with daily routine. Meals, laundry, bills, things that were already taken care of at home just so I can focus on my studies and not worry about anything else.

The first time I got sick away from home, I made instant soup while crying — it was the first memory of me having to take care of myself. Then I realized I have been so used to family dinners. My mom had continued making meals for me weekly despite the move. Still, I could not bear the thought of eating alone, so I occasionally skipped dinners. My stomach acid problems then began.

One night, I called home, tired and unfulfilled from a day of work at the refinery, not yet fully discerning what my role in the world was. My voice showed it all — I was not taking being part of the labor force very well. Ate Verna, who stayed home with my parents, straightened me out and told me to get my act together. I felt hurt because that was the last thing I wanted to hear after a long day.

I learned all that I could in my first job and made lifelong friends. I did extracurriculars that I know would satisfy my need for a purpose. I took a course on community development and did fenceline community work through a project I pursued as board member of my professional organization. I was becoming my own person without the comforts of home. And then when it was time, I left to pursue my masters degree abroad, my stepping stone to a career I finally love.

But life abroad was so much harder. There was no going home on the weekends to get meals. I often had to eat alone, which was opposite of what I was used to growing up. It was so hard to feed myself that I often woke up lightheaded. I’d usually survive on one tuna subway a day, and on days when I tried harder, I’d order the 2 dollar meal of rice, eggplants and mackerel. I’d snack to stock up some energy, as if chasing an often elusive appetite. On homesick days, I’d travel an hour to go to Jollibee.

I think Ate Verna was most frustrated at how bad I was at taking care of myself. I can no longer remember the exact context, but she got to a point where she told me, resigned, “Fine, wala ka namang kwenta (you’re useless anyway)”. Of course it hurt, but it stayed with me. Although we joke about the comment now, it was a reminder for me to keep trying to be more responsible.

Ate Verna is my total opposite. I guess being the eldest daughter does that to you. When all the rest of us were overseas, she was quick to pause everything in order to attend to what we needed—a scanned document, a trip to a government agency, she did them all. Like Mama, she looks after all of us and busies herself attending to our needs, something that didn’t come naturally to me. She is the kind of person I aspire to be.

30

When the pandemic hit, Ate Verna’s family and I moved back to live in an intergenerational household, so we can all be there for each other. Two years in, my sister was already pregnant with her second baby. That’s when Uncle Norman’s health started failing. It was just Mama, my 2-year old niece and I at home when he visited and collapsed in our home. It was December 22. I was 30 and the most able adult in the household.

The one month that stretched after that was long, the assault something I have never experienced with my family before. From the ambulance to the emergency room and the days thereafter, I became fully aware of the amount of strength caring for someone you love demanded. Getting the family together, coordinating with the hospital, discussing with the doctors what's happening and what we can do, asking brave questions. As if the trial was not hard enough, we were going through another surge of covid cases and couldn’t be in the hospital for my uncle. I bought a transistor radio, had everyone record messages, downloaded Uncle Norman’s preferred rock songs, so the ICU can continuously play our voices in the background while he was unconscious. Everyday, we asked if his Glasgow Coma Scale improved. I tracked hospital bills, even making graphs because data somehow gave me comfort. I did these for Uncle Norman, but I also did them for Mama and the family—Mama’s siblings and my siblings who could only support remotely. Mama, holding back tears and crying out ading, the Ilocano word for your younger sibling that to me now carries so much love, while ensuring the weekly routines that run our household were done, that Isay has had her lunch and the dishes were sorted out. I finally realized that adulthood meant compartmentalizing your feelings even though your world felt like it was crashing. People relied on you.

Our hearts were breaking to see someone we love suffer a physical death, adding insult to so much emotional injury that led him to give up taking care of himself. Uncle Norman died from a broken heart. His estranged children didn’t come to mourn with us. During that ordeal, Ate Verna gave birth to a baby boy and Isay also called him ading. As for me, I became an adult that Christmas holiday.

31

It’s been ages since I basked in the full attention for the bunso in the family. Our daily lives presently revolve around my nieces and nephews. My siblings and I are in our 30s now, though I’m still the little kid who tells so many stories during meals. My family is still the same people who patiently listen, who remind me to please eat my food in between talking.

The flock has flown in different directions and my siblings now have their own broods to nurture. These stories are now just that, stories that are fun to relive and share at the dinner table. Without a doubt I have already shared most of these anecdotes to people.

When I was in college, Mama told me that my siblings and I should always be there for each other. That we must support whoever needs help the most. She didn’t emphasize it so much, but I knew then that what she said had gravity. Only when I heard a similar message from Baz Luhrmann’s Everybody is Free to Wear Sunscreen did everything sink in:

Be nice to your siblings they are the best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future

We may have different lives now, but much of who I am today is because I have been a loved child growing up, despite the messiness of teenage years and adulthood. And my siblings? They are the greatest gifts my parents have given me.

**My siblings are Kuya Xerxes, 39; Ate Verna, 36; Ate Vera (or Cheenee/Chi), 34; and my cousin Kuya Janno (or Ja), 33, who grew up with us. I recently celebrated my 31st birthday. My mama, on the other hand, has 5 younger siblings. She is 65, and Uncle Norman, their bunso, would have been 50 this year.

[vergelle]

Hoping amid Climate Anxieties

Like most people who’ve seen the news that humanity has “unequivocally warmed the planet”, I too have internalized our current predicament. We’re at around 1.2 degrees Celsius of warming vs pre-industrial times (Paris Agreement tried /is trying/ to keep it well below 1.5 degrees). We will for sure hit 1.5 degrees by 2040, meaning we’ve basically locked ourselves into the worsening climate impacts in the next 30 years, from the wildfires and heatwaves to the super typhoons and flash floods. If we truly reach net zero emissions, we could bring the warming back to below 1.5 degrees in the second half of the century.

Since that report came out five days ago, I’ve had long sleepless nights and a persistent feeling of helplessness. I wondered if I could still have grandchildren and see them settle into their lives. I wondered if I can keep my future children safe.

Thankfully, I have someone who, without dismissing these worries as unimportant, calls me out when the worries get out of hand. So, I wish to share here what I'm doing to help myself, and also to apologetically encourage others whom I have unwittingly alarmed to also try and shift mindsets.

I have been fortunate enough to see the world in terms of roles. Even more so, I’ve seen the different roles people are playing in humanity’s quest for sustainable development. My sustainability work in government, in the business sector, and now in the investment community has allowed me to appreciate the parts we play to globally shift to a better future. I was able to meet with a lot of advocacy groups doing their own thing, keeping businesses in check, calling for better policies, conducting awareness and education campaigns. I also collaborated with people in academia finding novel technological solutions to the problems we have, from electrification to waste management.

Some sectors are working slowly but surely, some faster than others. But there are multiple movements, and we are better equipped to solve the problems that we have than ever before. Plus, we all have a stake in this warming world. A common understanding of our shared future, ushered in by the grim news, will help us collaborate better.

I encourage you to also see the world in this manner, and trust that there is no singular savior, just willing collaborators. This will be a good backdrop as we think about the next point.

I try to focus on what I can control. It always feels so good to know that you are part of something larger than yourself. It feeds a deep human need to belong, and could give a sense of purpose or even identity for some. Seeing the world in terms of roles helps me a lot in determining where I should get behind. Which sector can have a significant impact in bringing us away from this climate trajectory that we are in? Try to also position yourself in that space, and from there, harness your superpower.

Now I know it can be a privilege to be able to answer this question and take action, as far as jobs are concerned. Not all can afford to turn their passion into a paying job, nor does everyone have the luxury of time to take up advocacies outside the roles they currently have. So I would suggest assessing your community to leverage your own sphere of influence, and harness your superpower there.

The bottomline is this: know what you can give, whether it’s your skills or your time or your voice. Whatever your superpower, harness it in a larger community, the best one that you can think of. The news of our current climate reality is not for a person to bear alone.

I unfollowed the alarmists, instead I chose to turn to the doers. The internet is a beautiful and vicious thing. On Instagram, for example, I have long made the effort to unfollow celebrities to better self-define my idea of beauty, follow purposive creators to keep me inspired, and follow news accounts to keep me informed. I wanted to be intentional on what I feed the algorithm. I may have, however, overdone it with the news accounts. Echoed news only creates noise. Thankfully, Riz has called me out on this, even offering to curate my feed and suggest which news outlets to unfollow.

I am still trying to strike a balance, honestly, because I do not want to stay uninformed at the same time. One night, I searched for a forum on Reddit, keyed in “climate anxiety support group” but instead chanced upon the r/collapse forum. Okay, do you really need this? Catch yourself before you lose sleep, self.

I then decided to set up a call with a friend of mine to get a sense of the developments in the energy sector, where she's been working as a consultant since we parted ways in college. I needed to seriously deal with the helplessness, and my call to her was my SOS. I am writing now after we just finished our catch-up, which, not surprisingly, also led to a discussion on career, purpose, and love. I am happily reminded that at 30 years old (yes, I just wanna drop that fact haha), I have friends who make a difference in their own fields, and are awesome at what they do.

I see the beauty in our collective existence. I have been reading John Green’s The Anthropocene, Reviewed, having made an irrational purchase of a signed copy after seeing his post where he signs a hundred thousand pages one by one. The book is a great reminder of the irony of our existence. How we solved and created problems, how we are powerful enough to affect our environment yet not powerful enough to change how we affect it, how we are a threat and a savior to many species that precede us.

But mostly, it’s a great reminder of how humanity has done so much, both good and bad, in so little time. That if we compress the 4.5 billion years that the Earth has existed into a year, humans were only in the story in the last few minutes of the year and we cooked up the most amazing things (like the internet) only in the last couple of seconds. So with this thought, we are probably still cooking up the solution to this conundrum somewhere. It’s there, we’ll find it, we’ll roll it out. I hope this is not Vergelle-who-crammed-loads-of-schoolwork speaking here. I hope I have not been simple-minded. But that’s what we need most right now: hope. To cultivate the opposite would be needless.

PS: Singing my heart out to 90’s love songs before winding down finally helped me get a good sleep last night. Thank you, Indigo Girls.

[vergelle]

Thoughts on Tenacity, Leadership, and Teamwork

Closing 2020 for me means wrapping up my time in BSD. I have learned so much! I feel it is my responsibility to do a stocktake of what I’ve learned in over 3 years with the organization and see what I can carry forward.

Hopefully this hits the spot for some of you too, especially those I had the privilege to mentor.

1. Think about the people you’ve worked with thus far. Everyone, including you, has personal motivations to act. Some want money, some want recognition, some want power, some want to belong in that thing C.S. Lewis calls the Inner Ring. When you discern what it is for the people you meet, you will have gained an important knowledge to be able to work meaningfully with them. Much of their behavior will suddenly make sense.

Once you discern when to suspend judgment (ie. most of the time), you will have gained wisdom.

2. On the importance of shared principles: when you put different people together to accomplish one goal, shared principles will be your yardstick of acceptable behavior. A lot of time will be saved when you have this, a lot of needless battles not picked. In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity.

3. Disagreements come with diversity. Never shy away from them. Encourage conversation and build a culture where people can safely speak their mind even when they see things differently. Nobody has a monopoly of the best ideas. Nobody should be made to feel that there is, else we lose the benefit of seeing from a wider perspective.

4. Our ideas are not us. Elizabeth Gilbert once referred to the Romans’ perspective that a creative genius is not you, but a detached spirit that gives you inspiration. You are not the genius, you simply have a genius. Sometimes, our ideas might even be simply borrowed or hand-me-downs.

It is thus useful to practice a healthy detachment from your ideas. Whether they are praised or criticized does not speak of who you are as a person, so do not shut out the criticisms quickly. These are actually opportunities to get your ideas sharpened by skepticism.

5. Not every communication easily results in a meeting of minds. It is unfortunate whenever it seems like it already has, so beware the “oo na lang” (“whatever/fine”) mindset. Both parties lose out in the end. Strive to ensure that you are on the same page and you both know it, even if you disagree in content. Strive, especially when it is hard. It is always half your responsibility to make communication meaningful.

6. On mentoring: like any relationship, mentorship is a two-way street. It is successful only when it is sought and when it is graciously given. As a mentor, listening and being genuinely interested in your mentee’s experience is already a big chunk of the job. Just ask questions and they will mostly figure it out. If they’re not asking for the advice you’re dishing out, you’re just being nostalgic (like this list I’m making).

As a mentee, you have to seek out your mentor. Which leads me to my next point…

7. As much as you want to seek guidance and no matter how successful you are at getting it, nobody will advocate for your personal growth better than you. Be your own cheerleader in whatever undertaking you choose.

8. Being a Team Lead is not just about getting a project from start to finish. It is also about grooming people to replicate or even do the project better, or think better solutions than what we’ve already conceived. If we are to change the world, we must invest in teaching others. This is the ripple effect of our accomplishments.

9. On coaching: it requires timing. Of course, there’s the part where you have to balance your guidance. Give too-detailed coaching and you turn your team into robots. Give vague coaching and you risk them going the opposite direction. In creative or critical thinking work, there might not be just one way to an answer, so always let them find their way through a problem first.

But the clincher is in finding the best time to check in and map the course with them. Check in too late and you risk wasting their hard work in the name of quality. The output, however great, will be more yours than theirs. Check in early and meaningfully and their hard work is channeled to exercising the right skills, thinking, or systems.

10. On teamwork: in BSD, what it means has essentially been this: you will take the team forward with your best skills; your team will support in whatever else you lack. Success is not a zero-sum game. Someone’s success is the team’s success, which is also your success. Conversely, anybody’s unmitigated failure is the team’s failure, and it is your failure too.

Our insecurities could oftentimes lead us to try getting ahead or even pull others down. You can get over that insecurity by finding your niche and striving to be great at it. Build on what others are already contributing.

I feel lucky to have worked fruitful years in BSD with a team that felt like family, where I was always free to speak my mind, free to find my place, free to learn from my mistakes. “Come as you are” was our motto and "Gotchu fam” our battlecry. We accomplished many things together with that conviction.

My scholarship encouraged me to go home and aid in the development of the home country and I hope I have achieved some of that with BSD and more. Our success have been mostly indirect, our societal impact seeded in the boardroom of the companies we’ve assisted. So I will inhibit myself from putting it out here as if they are entirely mine. None of them are.

But I take away these lessons on tenacity, leadership, and teamwork, and hopefully replicate it in the next chapter of my professional life. :)

Annual General Meetings 2017-2019 (2020 was on Zoom)

Some of the innumerable memories made with colleagues through the years

#personal #professional

[vergelle]

Jazz does not resolve*

I am thankful for:

A baby. When they announced the extended lockdown, I was pretty sure I’d be cranky by second week and would take it out on my family. It’s been 30 days since I stayed home, but I’m okay, joyful even. Then I would look at my 6-month old niece, her two front teeth showing while she goofily smiles at me for God knows what reason. Like I am a really interesting sight and not the other way around. Baby Isay is saving our household from cabin fever.

Foresight. My boss set an indefinite work-from-home arrangement even before they announced the lockdown. I was able to take home my monitor and tried working from my flat for a day. The loneliness crushed me, so I knew I had to go home to my family. Had I not known that early how difficult it would be for me, I’d have been self-isolating for longer.

Family. That we have food to share between us. That there are things to talk about. I know I’m too extroverted to stay indoors but the dinner table is a saving grace. We are nourished, body and soul. I know that I’m lucky to be with people I love and for that I’m very grateful. I can imagine that some people are forced to live with those they don’t like or are dangerous to them. In some homes, there may be tension or even abuse.

Noble jobs. That while we do the littlest to keep ourselves safe and not contribute to the crisis, some are out there risking their lives.

I am paralyzed by:

Political correctness. My privilege prevents me from sharing my reality for fear of offending for not taking the plight of the marginalized into account.

Knowing that work from home is a luxury. That some people can’t go to work even if they wanted to. That the pandemic is another obstacle to bringing home food, while we get to stock up to refrain from going out.

My echo chamber. It can get pretty scary when people share the same strong views and they mix with strong feelings (and, I gotta admit, pretty funny memes).

"You must see with eyes unclouded by hate. See the good in that which is evil, and the evil in that which is good. Pledge yourself to neither side, but vow instead to preserve that balance that exists between the two.” - Hayao Miyazaki

I am proud of:

Having one person to help and taking that chance.

Asking my friends how they are. Catching up despite the distance.

Doing small productive things that push me toward deadlines. Activities that make me feel I’m moving toward something (anything?).

Being really funny (at least to my standards).

When this is all over, I will:

Visit the oratory.

Meet friends. Hug them. Be present.

Climb at the gym. I whine so much about gaining weight, but I’m actually happy to be putting on some. I am still not down to exercise because it doesn’t feel like play, unlike climbing. I miss the texture of the holds.

Buy underwear that’s one size bigger.

I want to resolve questions like:

What is the value of my work?

Will the fear of unmet potential ever go away, or have I made my peace with it somehow? Is there a satisfactory way of making privilege count? Am I too lazy?

Can I ever settle in peace? (Can I be a housewife and be happy? HAHA)

What else have I to offer the world? Are my intentions pure?

I pray for:

A vaccine.

Wisdom to take to heart all the lessons that come from this.

*Quote from Don Miller’s Blue Like Jazz

[vergelle]

First of 2020

I was getting to know a friend when I told him that my favorite movie is Meet the Robinsons. It always leaves me feeling happy for young Lewis. Orphan with a failed invention today, great inventor with a big happy family in the future. By projection, I can’t help but also feel hopeful for my present self and whatever it is that my heart so deeply desires. I wonder lately whether I’m getting the wrong idea about hope from that film. Lewis had a glimpse of his future. I, all of us, only have the knowledge of today.

Hope that is seen is no hope at all. For who hopes for what he sees?

Whenever a novel gets too exciting, I feel that my pace can’t keep up with my emotions that I would often take a peek at the ending. I know, I feel criminal whenever I do. If only I could trust more the author and his grand idea of how things ought to be resolved, I won’t feel the need to speed up or jump to the end. I could take my time savoring each chapter, enjoying how they build up to lead to the next one.

What have we to hope that the future is great? Not much, we only have today. I guess that’s good enough, no need to have a peek at how things play out.

Today, the first of 2020. 365 more unchartered days. I will take my sweet time. I trust they will lead to something beautiful. :)

[vergelle]

10/10

If you give the song of the same title a good listen, you’ll be amazed at how simple and candid the message is.

“I feel like a 5, I can’t pretend, but if I get my shit together this year, maybe I’ll be a 10”. - 10/10, Rex Orange County

I have to thank a friend for sharing it, who I hope has the better sense to rate me higher than 5. He unknowingly gave me something to identify with so strongly that I decided it was going to be My Song for the Year (even though Spotify ran the numbers and said, um, differently).

But it’s not the song I want to write about.

I want to write about this year, which was exceptionally rough that I didn’t get my shit together most of the time. I think it’s fair to say that, after all, I had spent a good amount of my time bawling, staring at the ceiling, or messaging friends and family for support. The year was off to a terrible start that I couldn’t even bring myself to write about the previous year (so sorry, 2018!) even if that turned out to be filled with exciting experiences and lateral growth.

And so, another year is almost over! Time has passed and I am afforded level-headed hindsight.

“Focus on the good that came out”, said my friend Ate Tin, who has been sending me the most heartfelt letters since 2017. The word “friend” never fully captured what she really means to me, for she has always been so much more in my heart. She’s a firm believer in my beauty beyond the skin-deep sense of the word. Ate Tin, thanks for believing, for blessing us with your most eloquent words, and for painting meaning in the mundane (or maybe not mundane, because you’re always off to great adventures!).

I am taking that advice. If there’s any good that came out of a rough year, I would say it’s the people who came through. I have decided to end this year by celebrating all of them.

Colleagues

I think I’m one of the lucky few who get to spend 1/3 of my day, and more, with people I absolutely love. I have spent much of my time working, talking (there’s always a lot of talking), learning, wall climbing, laughing with you. I could be myself – minsan matalino, minsan tanga, minsan sweet, minsan masungit, minsan walang ligo – and all those times, you have always accepted me with kind honesty.

Our camaraderie is so palpable and it’s something I have never found in any other workplace I’ve been. In my short work-life experience, I’ve seen politics and had felt unsure whom to trust. I’ve worked with teammates who feel the need to get a bigger slice of the pie (even I got insecure and became that kind of teammate). And so, when I became part of our group, our “gotchufam” attitude gave me a safe space. My successes and failures were yours, and yours mine. We help whoever is in need. Yet no one is ever complacent. I feel that I have to constantly improve because you guys have always been so excellent in the tasks that you take on (and honestly, it’s really because we are competitive haha).

We are homogenous in the important matters (ie. in our shared values for excellence and integrity) and diverse in everything else. Our ‘Come As You Are’ culture and lack of sense of propriety (aka balahura talaga tayo) have blurred the line between work and play, and that has made my gregarious, Filipino heart so at home.

Our group has grown so big now. I can no longer keep track of how many small groups we have, from different projects and network sharing to girl power, water sign feelings, theology nerd alert, climbing, and just plain laughs. You know how I’ve always been so vocal that I hope we don’t ever develop cliques, but please always feel free to approach who you need to approach because it’s worked for me. I have always found the support I needed in different circumstances. I hope you get the same thing from our group! Thank you, thank you, thank you! (Yes, I could totally operate as de facto Human Resources).

Liverpool

I signed up for a personal development course this year because I knew that the lessons will be worth it. The course appealed so much to my intellect that I was so psyched for the Case Study Method we needed to employ every class. I was there for the growth, but I didn’t expect to also make friends!

When I was placed in Liverpool, I was only planning to be factual and impersonal about the cases, walk into our small group with what I think I know, discuss, then walk out with more organized thought.

Guys, you have heard me say it many times: I guess we were just lucky they put us together. Who’d have thought we’d always have great attendance, that everyone would be so opinionated and ready to listen, and that soon we’d talk about our own personal lives?

I’m thankful for you guys because you’re the friends I didn’t know I need. I was happy with just knowing, but as the course progressed, I knew I had to take proactive action to make knowledge, on what’s true and beautiful and good, to be something of worth. I’m so happy to have taken this journey with you guys. :)

Van and Ada

The two of you know how much you’ve helped me get back on my feet this year. I found immeasurable strength in you. The circumstances that made us lean on each other for the past two years are almost comical if you ask me – to have our hearts broken at different times. It’s funny how it went full circle (or triangle!) by 2019! Ada, thanks for calling my sister and my colleague to check on me when you couldn’t, for telling our friends to treat me like china (lol wow) when I was most fragile. I wouldn’t have known that you did until they said so. Van, thanks for always assuring me that nothing’s changed, for sending me postcards which mean sooo much, for telling me repeatedly to please get over that one good-for-nothing boy, among many other things haha.

Both of you know we were there for each other before we needed to be. And that makes our friendship definitely front-porch-worthy when we’re old and gray. I love you both! Susuka pero di susuko, that’s how we are. :)

Family

Ate Verna, remember that day when you and Kuya Marvin picked me up late at night from Ortigas even though you were pregnant and should have been sleeping? You casually said “wala lang, para sa QC ka umuwi”, but you were making sure I wasn’t alone at my probably lowest point in life.

Mama and Papa, you went to my bedside the next morning of that holiday to check how I was, even though I was yet to be Not Okay. And then, the Not Okay stage came. Papa’s soothing back rub and Mama’s tight hug were the human touch I most needed in my life. At that moment, I felt like I have been forcefully shoved into a new adult phase. You made me feel I didn’t have to go through it by myself. I was no longer a child, but I am always your daughter.

Ate Chi, all my calls that you patiently answered gave me perspective, like they were the sober checkpoints I needed to move forward. Kuya Marvin, you are the best brother-in-law I could ever have (as of this writing, not that I have another choice haha), so thank you for believing that I could be 9/10 at being an adult even though you would rate me at 6/10. Thank you!

But other than that dramatic point in my life, thanks for everything, family!

Ate Verna, we never fought. You always just give and give and give. Thank you!

Mama, the drive to always do what you do is amazing. At 28, I know that you still believe that I can be my best. It’s so obvious even though you don’t say it,  your unceasing support already speaks volumes. (And really, thanks for always making our meals!)

Mama, Papa, Ate Verna, Ate Chi, Kuya Ja, Kuya Tet, we may all have our own lives now, but it’s amazing that you’ve never felt absent in mine. Thank you!

(Hahaha, I shed a few tears writing this part.)

Chem Engine @ NUS Ph

Funny how we call ourselves this way? Effort much, hahaha! Ate Tin, Ate Ivon, and Alex, thanks for the safe space to share, share, share in the most unfiltered way. Thanks for sharing events as they happen, sharing thoughts as they form, and sharing feelings as they build up even though we hadn’t really made sense of any of them yet. Thanks for the music and for filling the playlist of my life. Thank you for bringing me to Oklahoma, to the subways of NYC, to a scrappy bookshop, Ate Ivon; to Belgium or wherever your research has taken you, Alex; and to wherever your heart brings you Ate Tin (but most especially, thanks for connecting us to the soul of India and Iran!).

Our now different circumstances never changed the bond that we have – though I didn’t imagine we’d reach this point when we started talking about rather casual topics like boys and course work. I have had many friend groups that formed and dissolved when life happened and took us to different paths, but you guys remained. Thanks for always coming through. I guess we have WhatsApp to thank for that, plus Ate Tin’s contagious love for snail mail, Ate Ivon’s artistic side that will always have to be expressed, and Alex’s amazing personality! And me being sweet hahaha!

Thank you for leading the most amazing lives, and for making me awesome by transitivity!

Sanjala and Gabriella

To my most beautiful South Asian friends, thank you for coming to visit me (or the Philippines, or me! Haha, I guess I also have to thank my beautiful country for pulling you in!).

Our trip to Siargao is definitely one for the books, it easily tops the other trips I have had in the past two years. It was pure and soulful because both of you are pure and soulful. And I can’t deny that Siargao really has its charm. Our time together in that beautiful place was full of adventure and introspection. Thank you for the bright nights by the beach, for that carefree bike ride around the island, for enjoying Pinoy food with me, and for all the daring activities you were so willing to try!

Sanj, I told you one year in grad school was not enough to spend with you, because our one week together was bursting with soooo muuuch connection! Perhaps we were too busy with school work then and didn’t have time to really feel our feelings hahaha. Now that we’re back to our regular programming, know that I’m always just one message away, so fill me in when you need to talk and make sense of life. I am so proud of what you’re doing in your field, so keep it up, and when you can, let’s exchange notes!

Gaby, you are one compelling force of life! Thanks for giving me seaweed knowledge. I hope you know that your passion makes people intrigued, so whatever it is that you do, I strongly believe that people will get behind your cause. Use your amazing power for the good! :D Thanks as well for unknowingly reminding me to be ever-present, to be more conscious of humanity because you are precisely that – a person who is so receptive to the goodness of people.

I hope we can do something like that all over again. Crossing my fingers for India 2020! But until then, keep changing the world for the better, in your part of the world! Goa and KL are so, so, so lucky that you’re there!

Bang

Bang, we’re never cheesy. We have our own lives. Okay, maybe we’re sporadically cheesy. The truth is because we’ve been friends since 2004, you’re technically stuck with me now and you can’t unfriend me even if you tried. Thanks for being available during all my ups and downs, both states warranting a barrage of messages in whatever platform suits us best. I know you ignore them when you’re busy doing Life, but because you always get back to me, nothing could ever make me feel insecure about our friendship anymore. Thanks for being there throughout the years. :)

Passion People

And lastly, here go all the people I will no longer name but I am also grateful for. Although you just passed by my life, you have affected me in the most profound ways. I felt un-whole in my most vulnerable times and you have shown me something that I want for myself. I have never loved so many things, but seeing how each of you loved what you love is like the world showing me how it should be done.

With my acquired love for wall climbing, hip-hop music, tea, competitive games, marine conservation, among many other things, I realized that I was never un-whole. I just had to let go of some parts of me that no longer serve a purpose and make room for things that make me more dynamic, complex, colorful. Thank you!

Thank you, souls!

2019: 10/10

PS: revisit next time when I have the energy to put in all the photos (with permission from the owners of the faces). I just need to get this out lest I keep it in my drafts forever.

#personal

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Reflections, Holy Week 2019

Sharing here some snippets from one of the best books ever written, Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis.

If a thing is free to be good, it is also free to be bad. And free will is what has made evil possible. Why, then, did God give them free will? Because free will, though it makes evil possible, is also the only thing that makes possible any love or goodness or joy worth having. When we have understood about free will, we shall see how silly it is to ask, as somebody once asked me: "Why did God make a creature of such rotten stuff that it went wrong?" The better stuff a creature is made of — the cleverer and stronger and freer it is — then the better it will be if it goes right, but also the worse it will be if it goes wrong.

No man knows how bad he is till he has tried very hard to be good. A silly idea is current that good people do not know what temptation means. This is an obvious lie. Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is. After all, you find out the strength of the German army by fighting against it, not by giving in. You find out the strength of a wind by trying to walk against it, not by lying down. A man who gives in to temptation after five minutes simply does not know what it would have been like an hour later. That is why bad people, in one sense, know very little about badness. They have lived a sheltered life by always giving in.

Now repentance is no fun at all. It is something much harder than merely eating humble pie. It means unlearning all the self-conceit and self-will that we have been training ourselves into for thousands of years. It means killing part of yourself, undergoing a kind of death. In fact, it needs a good man to repent. And here comes the catch. Only a bad person needs to repent: only a good person can repent perfectly. The worse you are the more you need it and the less you can do it. The only person who could do it perfectly would be a perfect person — and he would not need it.

I hope you’ve had a reflective holy week.

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Scratch and Dent Dreams

2019. I have heard many a poem, but this one I heard in 2009 stands out from all the rest.

Come on in, I’ve got a sale on scratch and dent dreams, whole cases of imperfect ambitions stuff the idealists couldn’t sell. Yeah, I know none of it’s got price tags, you decide how much it’s worth. And none of it’s got glossy colored packaging but it all works just fine. I’ve got rainy day swing sets good night kisses, stationary stars still flying at the speed of light. And over there out back if you dig down through those alabaster stoplights and those old 45’s you’ll find a whole crate of second-hand hope. Yeah right there, that’s no chrome, you just gotta work, polish it up a little bit. Most folks give up too easy, trade it in for some injection mold and here and now. And over there across the freeway, you see that purple awning flappin’ in the breeze? Well that’s Momma Genuine’s shop. She’s older than all of us put together but she still laughs like a house. Now, she only sells tools but not like you know, she’s got saws that put back together, drills that make whole. Momma’s a cool legend to know, and she sells duct tape, too. And down there at the end of the block are two kids, crew cut and pigtailed sittin’ behind a bindle top table selling peanut-butter ice-cream out of a galvanized pale, and there’s no metaphor there it’s just good ice-cream. So here’s what you do, take a look around pick out what reminds you of places you wanted to be but gave up on going and jam it all in this big box called, “Now”. Then go across the street to Momma Genuine’s, ask her how she’s been, show her what I gave you, she’ll know exactly what you need and then go back in the center of that freeway and get to work making it all fit. You won’t have any directions or factory number tabs, but don’t panic. There’s a hundred ways to do it right  and none to do it wrong ‘cause you’re starting out  with what’s already been given up upon,  you can’t do any worse.  Use the tools momma gave you,  hum a little while you work.  Then you find yourself sprouting extra thumbs..

Take a break. Go around the block, get yourself an ice cream. Smile when they hand it to you, tip ‘em if you can, and when you get back it’s all gonna make sense. You’ll see where it’s gonna fit perfect and where the duct tape has to go. And when you get finished, take whatever spare parts you got at the bottom of “Now” and make yourself a little sign that says, “Tomorrow”, and hang it on your masterpiece. Then you go back down the block to where those two kids are packing up their peanut butter enterprise ‘cause somebody told them they’d fail and I want you to hand them “Tomorrow”. Make sure they know how important it is. After they’ve run off with it all elbows and smiles y’all can come back here, we’ll do it all over again. Now I’m not telling you this to make a profit. That’s how so many good ideas go wrong. I’m just tired of seeing every day people screaming through these doors convinced they’re gonna hock even their littlest hopes and dreams to fund their 401Ks. I’m tired of seeing this whole world bet on going big or giving up. Only handing out glory to newspaper headlines and story book endings, ‘cause the truth is I think we need those swing sets most on the rainy days. I’m happy going to sleep after just a goodnight kiss, and I believe that beauty can be as simple as two kids, crew cut and pigtailed, handing me a scoop of peanut butter ice cream that’s so good, you’d think it was a dream.

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Iloilo-Guimaras Weekend

Three weeks ago, I flew out of the city to explore Iloilo. I was pretty excited about the trip because my visits to a new place were always with company, or if I’m alone, they were always to places I’ve been to before.

I haven’t been to Iloilo before. I was alone. Save for a high school workshop where I was invited to speak, I had no itinerary and practically zero knowledge of Iloilo. It was to be my latest adventure!

Iloilo is an easy start for inexperienced solo travelers. From the time I boarded in Pasay to when I reached my hotel, I kept bumping into strangers who wanted to help out. Someone at the boarding gate prematurely offered me a ride to my hotel (but he had a motorcycle and I had a luggage), two guys assisted me with my boarding pass which was electronic and didn’t have the “group number” I needed for queueing, another two guys helped put things in the overhead cabin. My seatmates were also friendly -- a kind lady who came from a physician convention, and a call center agent who flew in to apply for a fiancée visa. They were both concerned about how I was getting to my hotel at the wee hours. Apparently, they thought I was 18 year old, an assumption that didn’t surprise me as much as it surprised them to know that I’m actually older than Lovely, the call center agent. Two more guys helped Lovely and me at the carousel, and the last one even accompanied me, by Lovely’s instructions, when I hailed the two rides I needed to get to the hotel.

Finally reaching my room at 12 midnight. Yes, I took a lot of selfies during this trip.

I decided then to let go of any apprehensions during this trip and welcome all the help that strangers would offer. Iloilo is a safe space, even for a possibly credulous tourist like me. “This is the city of love, after all,” Lovely told me.

After dedicating the next day for a bit of work, I eventually pulled myself to explore in the afternoon, which turned into a heritage tour of sorts. I went to the Jaro Cathedral, accidentally walked by the original Biscocho Haus where I bought pasalubong, and ended up visiting Casa Mariquit, the old house of Fernando Lopez, longest serving vice president of the Republic, and his wife, Mariquit. 

I went to the esplanade next, a 1.2-km promenade along the Iloilo River that the city boasts of as proof of its people-friendly urban design. Seeing students practicing for a school performance, some men idly fishing by the river, joggers and couples lounging, I felt a tinge of envy that they have the esplanade to enjoy. I can’t imagine having that luxury back in Manila. Then again, it’s probably not just about how our city is structured but also about how we design our everyday lives. We’ve crammed not just our space but also our schedules that we have to escape from the busyness from time to time.

Walking past the esplanade, I joined a number of people on their own excursions to Molo Church. The bell beckoned for the 6 pm mass. I found myself paced with an old lady who was also on her way to the church, and without doubt, a good-natured small talk ensued.

We crossed the road to the park in front of the church, and as the square presented itself before my eyes, I noticed couples chatting, girls playing volleyball in the clearing between the trees, an old lady sitting on the bench with her basket of chicharon, the old man she was chatting with, and the massgoers entering the big church doors one by one. I took it all in. The place was buzzing with carefree life.

I dropped by the adoration chapel, strolled in the Molo Museum across the church, feasted on a good KBL soup, then went home to prepare for the next quick trip in the morning.

Before the sun was out, I was ready for my taxi ride. I hailed Kuya Roy’s taxi the day before, and he offered me a ride after hearing my idea of a quick tour of Guimaras, the province a few minutes away from Iloilo by boat. Kuya Roy picked me up and dropped me off at the wharf. From there I figured my way by following the people, mostly teachers, on their daily commute to the island. I took the boat with them, then rented a tricycle to take me to the beach and back.

We traveled 25 kilometers south of the wharf, passing by a lot of schools getting filled for the morning ceremonies. Then finally, we reached the Raymen Beach, practically empty on a Monday. Understandably so. I figured, since I took the effort to visit, I could rent a boat for myself. So I requested for one, handed my camera over to one of the boatmen, and hopped on. I asked them to take me to the nice places within the time that I could allot for the day.

With just a little over an hour of island hopping, I managed to swim in Baras Cave, walk along the shores of Natago Beach, and just enjoyed the rest of the view from the boat. Of course, I knew I had to come back, with friends next time.

Sadly, I forgot to take a group photo with my small crew and had only a bunch of solo photos (after teaching one of the boatmen a little of what I know about composition, he took free rein of my camera). Traveling alone and looking young, I piqued their curiosity, so I told a bit of my story, and they shared theirs. One of them was just three days into the job, having been working in the tuna fishing industry for the past thirty years till he AWOL-ed for personal reasons.

Upon returning to Raymen Beach, I showered, left, and went back to the wharf. I dropped by a monastery that sells some famous mango delicacies, and asked the driver for a quick tour of a mango production and research center that caught my eye on our way.

And then came the last day, the main reason for my visit to Iloilo. I was to give a talk to eighth grade students. Giving talks to the youth about waste and sustainability--topics I have much to say about--gives me a bit of a high. While my job requires me to be many things: a researcher, a project manager, a lobbyist or a communicator, talking to the youth allows me to just be me. I get to be anecdotal, passionate, and real because the only thing I wish to achieve is to inspire. The rest of the work in the field -- to study, to network, to communicate -- are things that a person inspired enough can already do.

I think I had been able to do that job. The plenary that followed had to be extended because the students were not running out of questions to ask. And the questions were mostly important and deep. Who pays the cost of sustainability? Are we really being pro-poor? I wanted to cry and tell them their hearts are in the right place, because these are the questions we are also trying to answer every time we come up with possible solutions to pitch.

These were the brightest kids of their batch, after all.

Though I may have traveled for work with a bit of touring squeezed in (or vice-versa, whichever way you look at it hahaha), the quick getaway was more than enough to recharge me. I packed my things after the workshop, texted some of the friends I made in Iloilo that I’ll be leaving, and flew back to Manila. Ready to face again the daily grind of the career I chose.

#rough draft #personal #professional

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First Outdoor

I’m posting this photo of my first ever rock-climbing experience as placeholder -- I know I haven’t been posting much haha. Not counting the ones I did just for fun before, I only started continually wall climbing in July last year and I’ve noticed that I’m getting stronger. Not quite strong yet though for actual rock climbing, because I couldn’t get past that horn above my hand. Yet. :P

I’m posting this photo because it reminds me that life isn’t always easy. And like my choice to get better at a physical activity, like the jugs and pockets and crimps I choose to step on and hold on to, this photo reminds me to stick to the choices I’ve made thus far and make the best out of them.

Life isn’t easy.

But we still climb on, and we smile. :)

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Inhabit Your Moments

2018 was turbulent. Wrapping up the year took longer than I had hoped*, because frankly, I have not been in a happy place towards its end. I do not want to force positivity -- a thing we can all be slaves of in an era of well-curated lives, but gratitude is something else. Gratitude can always be exercised.

2018 would be a waste if I don’t reflect on the many things that I’ve let happen, changes I’ve allowed, and though late, here are the lessons and memories I now carry with me.

Say “yes” to work commitments, even when they make you scared.

Saying yes can be daunting that you’ll sometimes even interject, “Hell yes!” or “Bring it on!” just to throw yourself fully at it. That’s adrenaline. It is the kind of fear that will allow you to discover what you can do and what you are capable of.

Say yes to invitations to talk about topics you feel well-versed in. It can be scary to talk to different groups of people: college or high school students, corporate professionals, engineers, but you learn to fit your words to different types of audience. You won’t get it right the first time, but keep trying.

Technical Seminar to PIChE Bataan Chapter

Giving a workshop to League of Corporate Foundations

Say yes to invitations that lets you interface with students, like mentoring or judging in research fairs. Listen to their worries, worries that are as valid as yours. Give advice when solicited. Critique their work, but never belittle. You are talking to the future, and the future must not be discouraged.

Pisay’s 2018 Research Fair with the amazing judges specializing in Physics, Chemistry, Biology, Math, Engineering (omg what was I even doing with them)

With the high school and college girls visiting Tanglaw University Center. (Also, next time try to rotate your clothes so when you compile photos by year-end you won’t be seeing the same blazer over and over hahaha.)

In the noise of the many things that you do, remember your whys. Follow through by doing your homework for the things you’ve committed yourself to. Even when you don’t feel like it. Homework is that one thing you must will yourself to suffer for.

Give yourself credit.

When your insecurities surface, remember that there is always something you bring to the table. You’ll strive harder, of course. Insecurity is a fertile ground to try too hard. But there’s tendency of doing that to the point of breaking.

Do not berate yourself with negative talk, even if you cushion them as jokes. You’re cultivating the soil for the most vicious of seeds, that even just one unsupportive person could creep on your self-esteem. Hear your negative talk seconded by someone else, and you’ll break down and say, “I knew it!”

Stop. Your chants become you. So choose your chants well.

YOLO responsibly.

Don’t be too uptight and say “yes” to new experiences outside work, too. Do not be afraid to try new things.

Travel with colleagues with different interests. Chaperone your newly retired parents. Travel with friends you’ve never traveled with before.

Brought my parents to the same tours my sisters and I did in Korea the year before.

Siem Reap weekend with my dearest colleagues. Unexpectedly one of my most memorable trips.

Food trip with Kathy in Taipei, also a memorable trip - because we ended up not talking towards the end (haha, we’re okay now and have talked things through!)

As one of your professors told you, savor the flavor of the people you’ll meet. Find something wonderful even in the ones who lead very different lives from you. This will be your antidote to prejudice.

Listen to people talk about things they feel passionate about, whether it’s a book or a genre of music or maybe even tea. It’s similar to what Don explained, “Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way.” Trust me, you’ll end up picking some of those interests, “imprints” these people you’d meet would leave you even after they’ve already walked out of your life.

Be grateful when you meet someone who calls out your fear of trusting your own judgment. Because you’ve been guided all your life on what to do, after all. It’s your call now. Do not bother yourself too much with the barrage of opinions on whether you should do this or that.

So party on a Saturday night if you wish and if your body still allows. Then hear mass early the next day, even if it’s in a language you don’t understand.

Sunday Mass in Khmer, with a Filipino Jesuit priest celebrating the mass.

Go, get that extra pierce. That does not make you a bad person.

Do not overthink and wear that deep neckline dress that you like. As the daring Nadine would say, “Come on guys, it’s 2018!” Bless her soul because that line could be used for many different contexts - from the cheeky to the outrageous.

Bike on tandem with a colleague and let him do all the pedaling while you enjoy the rushing wind. Bike leisurely through autumn leaves that crumple in the most satisfying way. If you get lucky and the universe aligns to give you the nice touch of a light drizzle, of you wearing a nice white dress, of public bicycles and practically clear roads, bike through the city with that clever, well-dressed boy at 3 am.

Hug cats as much as you’d hug dogs. Well, hug the willing cats.

Never stop improving yourself. 

Write when you can, in a blog and not on facebook or twitter or instagram where content rarely persists. Write, even when your style is pedestrian.

In a time where short form is celebrated, never ever ever give up reading books over articles and lists.

Learn some music, even when you feel like you’re too old for that now. You are never too old for music, dear.

Take up sports or a physical activity you enjoy. It will be the workout you’ll do without dragging your feet.

Been wall climbing since then (which, to be honest, is 20% resting for me hehehe)

Be present in your loved ones’ lives.

Trust that those who matter will stick through your phases. If somebody leaves, let them. You’ve reached that age where you don’t have to keep everyone.

Living your years fully, discovering yourself and changing -- these are great enterprises, but never alienate the important people in your life.  Living your life means you have to be present in theirs, too. They are also going through important life events, so be there.

Aleia’s christening in June. Enjoying every stage of Kuya Ja’s young family.

Ate Verna’s wedding in December. This is our first complete family photo in years. (I can only recall the last family photo we had was when I was in fifth grade -- in 2003!)

Encourage your friends when they’re undertaking a major venture. Dissolve their self-doubts. Send them postcards, especially those who are separate from you by many miles and many realities. You never know how much it could light up their lives. If it doesn’t, what’s the loss there? But imagine how much the world gains if it does. So let them know you remember.

Feel your feelings.

Be open, be vulnerable. You’ll suck at being discreet and classy about how you feel, but go through all things that make you feel human, alive, and therefore, blessed.

Feel the fear before the exhilaration. Just when your heart beats its fastest, jump into the situation and see what happens.

Mourn your loss. Cry, and let yourself be heard if that’s what you need.

Acknowledge your anger in the face of betrayal.

Feel giddy in the prospect of romance. Be disappointed when a person could not afford you decency. Be disappointed with yourself when you fall short as well.

And then, forgive, even when it is difficult to forget. Forgive your family. Forgive yourself, mostly because you have to live with yourself. Let go of all the negative emotions.

You can get pretty indulgent feeling them all. You’ll spend more time in bed moping - but catch yourself before you overdo it. Life has to be lived outside your head. Also, because duty will call.

Live with your head above your heart.

Remember that misattributed quote to Pope Francis: in your springtime, be joyous. In your winter, be a friend of wisdom.

So while you take time finding wisdom in your sorrows, do not forget to inhabit your joyful moments.

When you’re up in the clouds, do not overthink joy. Life is happening now, so inhabit your moments. Especially those that make you feel a thousand wonderful and terrible things.

Monday Chill-numan session with colleagues (something we learned never to do again because night-outs on a Monday painfully stretches the whole week).

Change for the better, change for the sake of change, but never change to a point where you’d hate yourself. Stay true to your values.

Remember that how you spend your days is how you spend your life. Live. Live.

*This is a backdated draft posted two years later.

[vergelle]

Eras

I savor moments with my colleagues thinking that this is an era that will eventually end. I pin to memory moments like a spontaneous shopping trip to a thrift store by the MRT station. Or when one suggests having dinner outside instead of our usual office fast food delivery, which then leads to us eating at our go-to Subway booth where for some reason we always stay for hours to talk about the most personal details of our lives. I now know that that booth will become a vivid memory. It’s where we speculated the life stories of customers at the Dunkin’ Donuts store opposite us as we observed them through the glass. It’s where we talked about our career fears, about why that other person just really gets under our skin, about the relationships we’ve had and other possibly lewd or lame particulars. These are moments I just knew I had to take photos of for posterity.

I lodge people and relationships with life markers that overlap with them, like how my colleagues now sit in the same period where I decided to live independently, then roomie-d with my college friend who is also having her own phase. How during this time my friends are settling down one after the other while I’m still exploring what I want in life and building a career by building my network. I wonder until when I will keep doing all these, or when a major event will happen next that will tell me, “Vergelle, it’s time to move.”

I know for a fact that people come and go. When it’s time, life simply happens. You’ll lead different lives and by the few details of them that you pick up on Facebook, you realize that keeping tabs is somehow rendered worthless. You and a few important people would stick and keep up – about the latest goings-on in your families, how you’re into new ventures, what scares you now and makes you insecure, but having a majority that won’t bother with those details anymore just emphasizes that all these are eras in one lifetime and they will all come to pass.

So I inhabit my moments and savor the jokes and the stories and the events, and I let gratitude flood me because although it’s all going to end, it’s happening now. And when it’s all over, I can say that I was fully present when it all happened.

But still, an era. I live life like I’ll eventually leave. Will my colleagues so treasured presently be Keepers when this period is over, or will they be like the Majority? Only time will tell. There’s no point holding this uncertainty against or for them.

The important thing is we inhabit our moments.

#personal

[vergelle]

Reverse Culture Shock

Getting my mother’s hand-me-down iPhone meant I had to migrate everything from my old phone. It should be easy, I could just push photos, contacts and device settings up the ubiquitous Cloud and pull everything back down to a new device. But I’m not that techie, plus a cloud space larger than 5 gigabytes costs money, so I had to make do with the 16-gb memory — already quite small by today’s standards — of the phone I got when I was just integrating myself to Singapore life. Pretty soon the phone memory was full, my free cloud space was full, and I resigned to the habit of removing older, less memorable photos piecemeal as I needed the space.

But I got a new old phone now. While I revel in the fact that it’s now twice the memory, there’s the trouble of transferring data the old-fashioned manual way, including a messaging app where I maintain group chats with friends for school work, events, and many other iterations for groups. That was two years ago but I still use the app today using my defunct Singapore number. I have to change that number now that I have to use my local number to verify my account again. This one task I delayed doing when I returned home is finally necessary to do. So I changed it, and in doing so I could no longer migrate the photos and conversations I had with the old number. A clean slate without an archive, opening that app felt like a fresh start. One less thing from a study abroad that I still use since I came back.

Finding my bearings back home was about gradually phasing out things from a finished chapter, and gradually bringing back the old stuff and adding new ones. Renewing a mobile data plan, getting a job, being in the know of what’s happening in the city, letting old friends know I’m now available for sporadic, spontaneous meet-ups, kaladkarin na. Some were necessary (the data plan), fulfulling (the job), refreshing (the happenings), but then there were also things that I resented. It was, after all, a process not without its difficulties. There was the stark contrast of an efficient life in Singapore and the stressful life here in Manila, a thing that will never be missed by anyone who had a hint of a better life outside, which was almost always the case. But there were other things that shrouded me. Having to move back to my parents’ practically empty nest (I have since moved out to live near work on weekdays and come home on weekends), leaving a relationship, coming to terms with the fact that my siblings and friends have lives that proceed irrespective of me (although they are gracious enough to choose to be present). Though I find myself quite the extrovert, meeting and making friends no longer happen so naturally as one takes a specific path, and the thought that my world was getting smaller and smaller dampened my view on what this whole season represented. One of Dr. Seuss’ famous lines comes back, “Alone is something you will be quite a lot.” Sure, I said, when one moves away, but I’m home now, right?

Having something from a finished chapter is an oasis in this sometimes desert of a home. Its comforting familiarity tempted me to dwell on it more than usual - because it’s easy, because it has happened already. But with the turn of virtual events I am now obliged to move forward and face the changes, or lack thereof while the world keeps moving, in my life as they happen. Two years in, and a change as tiny as shifting phones made me admit that reverse culture shock is still not done with me.

Then again, this could simply be a case of focusing on the negatives. People can easily tell me to focus on the brighter things — “of course, the grass is always greener on the other side” — but only I can pull myself out of a pit I feel stuck in and start counting those worth celebrating. You know, those things that I missed when I was not home, like having the luxury of hanging out over beer (yes, I can enjoy a bottle now, Sanjala, if you read this) with friends who are separated from me just by traffic and no longer by nautical miles. Or even the chance to get soaked in the hotpot of art and culture, like the local music scene that quietly nestles in this city.

Yes, a good OPM would probably remedy this.

Ben&Ben at 12 Monkeys Pub before they were drawing in large crowds, Aug 2017. The first gig I went to since I came home. I’d like to think this was when I was reintroduced to the vibrant local music scene (which I had previously thought was already dying).

#personal

[vergelle]

Echo Chamber 05: Plastics

I recently read this Washington Post article that says nobody practically reads World Bank reports, which is likely even more true for those published and peer-reviewed journals that try to push the boundaries of human knowledge. This explains a lot about how solutions to many of our problems tend to reach cul-de-sacs. So I figured, youtube is one of the keys to getting important messages out.

So here’s my share of informative, persuasive, and moving videos I’ve seen when I last fell down the youtube hole. As with most of us in the age of the internet, procrastination plagues me, especially when my passion starts to taper. But at least I get to spend it on some arguably useful stuff online.

Time: The History & Future of Everything – Remastered by Kurzgesagt - This shows significant events that happened in the past and may happen in the future in a way that puts things in proper perspective. Spoiler: the only time that actually matters is now, so... (see 7:21). This is off-topic, but that’s how you fall down the hole.

Ocean Confetti! by MinuteEarth - This talks about the impacts of plastics in the environment. Apparently, this topic has long left the white papers when civil society and activist groups have put forth the problem of plastics in mainstream media.

Are Plastics too Strong? by MinuteEarth again - This tells about the research community’s path to finding the perfect plastic, and we’re not there yet (of course, the elephant in the room now is that: is plastic even the solution?). Anyway, fun graphics.

What’chu Gonna Do: With All That Plastic? by Penelope Pop - This is a more relatable video from blogger Winnie Wong, where she shares practical solution that’s out there in dealing with our dependence on plastic. It’s well researched (she could’ve footnoted her references, but that’s just me) and she doesn’t romanticize zero-waste living. In fact, she recognizes the fact that it’s hard to shift our ways. Good stuff - I think she sends the important message.

That’s it for now.

Please keep watching quality content in youtube. My favorite channels surface: there’s Kurzgesagt and MinuteEarth (and MinutePhysics, too, for nerdier content that’s arguably less useful for us common persons). I also like Wisecrack for literature and film, Vox (can get too political), and other channels for music, make-up, recipes, and comedy - though those are something I don’t think I’ll share in this space. That’s how I would over-the-top-share.

#echo chamber #professional

[vergelle]

Letter to Sophia

I didn’t know you were diagnosed with lupus two years ago just after you passed the board exam, and that you never bothered with work anymore. How would I know? We never kept in touch after 2010, or so my Facebook said. I tagged you in a few of my posts but they never point to your profile anymore. I didn’t notice when you deleted your account. It’s a bit painful to search back for those posts that say there is a comment in them, possibly from you, when I can no longer find any when I click them open.

We used to chat many times even after high school, even after we went to different campuses. We took the same program so we got to compare our curricula. Your mom, Tita Ollie, said you badly wanted to go with your friends in Diliman, but she insisted that you go to Los Baños because your house was a stone’s throw away from the campus there. She said she should’ve let you have it your way instead, perhaps you would never have had lupus. I told her it doesn’t matter where you went, you already got your degree and your license. You were still in induced coma when she and I had that conversation. I wish I was able to console her and take that guilt away.

Aside from chatting about our lives as college students, we talked more about books and films. I especially loved that murder mystery novel Special Topics in Calamity Physics, which never had anything about physics in it, although it was filled with references to old films, novels, plays, written in a classic school curriculum way that it would definitely be a nerdy book. Sir Arghs, our fourth year high school english teacher, saw you reading that book in class and said it is a really good novel. I eventually read it after high school and was so dumbfounded that I had to email him after, and then share the book to a number of people, including the girl who helped me conduct a coffee-painting workshop for kids. She was overwhelmed by the title when I gave her the book  as a token. Without much thought I said, “Don’t worry. It’s not a book for smart people,” and immediately regretted what came out of my mouth because that was not exactly what I meant. You would’ve laughed at the whole situation. I am no longer sure but I terribly, terribly hope I had told you about that. I’d like to believe I thanked you for that recommendation, because you’re the first person I associate with that book. You then recommended Old Boy - this Korean film you explicitly told me not to google before watching. I gladly obliged and was too shocked for words. You didn’t warn that it was a mindfuck movie, and I’d like to imagine we had a long discussion about it afterward.

Our sharing will always be something I will remember you by. I tried searching for all these conversations, hoping they are archived somewhere. But Multiply and Yahoo Messenger are now defunct, and I can only grasp a bit of you from mining out emails about school work from email addresses we would now be too embarrassed to let the world know. Remember the time we did a skit on X-Men? You played Professor X and wore stockings on your head, which you then took off and said, “Magneto, I am now a woman.” I just saw the script you made in my inbox, complete with the different songs we played in the background. I remember these snippets that prove we did some normal crazy stuff in class in fourth year high school.

I went to the attic last Sunday and scavenged for more memories. I easily spotted the boxes that contained my Masters Life, Work Life, and College Life, but I had a bit of trouble looking for my High School Life. When I finally found it, I immediately looked for a red, flat box that I know contains all the letters I collected from high school. I went through all of them one by one, from sweet nothings to terribly long ones, from one-sentences written in unremarkable sheets to heartfelt palanca letters I got from retreats. They came from all sorts of high school friends but I, hoping one of them would be you, eventually reached the bottom and never saw your handwriting or your words. I guess we were never that sort of friends in high school, or perhaps we were more classmates than friends. You had your group and I had mine.

That’s why I never bothered to invite you to the places I frequent back then, when I was getting optional religious formation. I told your mom about these places when I said I’ll pray for your healing, and she was curious why I never brought you there. I’m sorry that the opportunity never came for that.

When I visited you in the hospital three weeks ago, I tried my best not to dampen your parents’ optimism. You had many things attached to you, and your eyes were secreting fluid that they looked sealed with epoxy. Tita Ollie told me to talk to you and I obliged. I hope you heard me. I bet you were surprised because you’ve never heard my voice in ages. I promised your parents I’d offer all my work for the week for your healing, because we all believed that that would be my best prayer for you. I really hoped for you to wake up, because I was planning to ask you the places you’ve gone during that induced coma.

I texted Tita Ollie on Monday to ask about you, but she never replied. Three days later she’d inform me that your brain gave up that day. And it sucks to see online news of your passing the same time we were celebrating our ten years since our graduation. It would suck had it been any day. The next days had been terrible too, corresponding with your parents who were having the hardest time discerning what to do while you were in the gray area of life and death. I am sincerely sorry if I had not helped by asking them for updates. I am sorry for all the trouble, for not keeping in touch, for not making the most out of our friendship. I had many times thought about dropping a hello? or how’s it been? while you were still alive, but you weren’t much of an online person so I never tried harder. This is my biggest regret since I heard about you again, and possibly why from the time I learned you were in ICU I kept seriously in touch, hoping I could make it up somehow.

Now I have to live with the fact that our last conversation was indeed eight years ago, according to Facebook. I would never know what you replied. The only way that I could make it up to you is to take the meticulous effort to remember all that I can, to tell the world that you had lived and you’ve touched my life in this way.

#personal

[vergelle]

Balancing Act

I was out of office last Friday. We had to check a potential site for our project on plastic waste recovery. Although the project is a collaboration of industries, there are other partnerships to be managed outside of that, including the one with local government.

This is the estero beside the site where we could set up our facility. There’s a subtle stench that our noses did not get used to even after we’ve been there for a time. The place used to be an area reclaimed using garbage. It is now being mined out so the government could set up a proper transfer station, an MRF, and a housing facility to relocate the community living in the waterway.

I saw opportunities, risks, and undoubtedly so much work to do.

A rush of urgency came to me, and I took note of this internal consideration: whenever I feel that I’ve been working in the office for too long, I should get my ass off my chair and go to the ground.

“Without a feel for the texture and function of the natural world, without an intensity of engagement almost impossible in the absence of early experience, people will not devote their lives to its protection.” - Aric Sigman

I got this quote from my classmate who talked about her experience visiting Antarctica. She said that if people lose contact with nature, they’d stop fighting for it.

In the same light, I say go out, see for yourself the very problems you are trying to solve, and get fuel to drive you in what you do.

A day before that, I also dropped by a waste management forum held in Pasay City. I was initially not so keen on going, there might not be anything new to learn about. But I’ve been dealing with banks and power generation companies and land developers for some time now, and I’m losing touch on anything vaguely related to sustainable consumption and production. I eventually decided to go.

Architect Jun Palafox and Senator Cynthia Villar

It would be hubris to say that I didn’t learn anything new. The crowd was complete with people from government, civil society, private sector, and academe. What drew me in particular was research on circular economy and the fact that it’s also being done here in the Philippines; I’ve always thought it’s largely concentrated in Europe. 

I hate networking because there’s a fine line between passion and pretentiousness and it unmistakably reeks when you cross that. But I badly wanted to approach the professor who gave the talk, so I threw caution out of the window and introduced myself to him.

I gave him my calling card, we talked about some of our insights, and I told him to call me if he needed any help. Feeling inspired after our exchange, I then entertained encounters with other people as well: a couple of ladies and one gent from a civil society organization - they chastised the waiter for putting straws in our drinks; an industry practitioner - he admitted that he’s the culprit in this whole forum because they produce plastic pellets, but he’s very interested in collaborating for plastic recovery; and a local enforcer from the province - he knew some of my bosses in my previous work.

From being pumped, I quickly felt drained from all the talking. I wondered if I’m a true extrovert like I always thought I am.

I finally realized that the time for talking is over. Some would not feel it yet, there’s still so much passion running in their veins to go out and share. I call it “evangelizing” because it’s not very different from the spiritual kind. Some people are just made to evangelize.

But I’ve heard the same lines over and over. I left and got back to work. There are still numbers to crunch, codes to correct, proposals to write, and funding to be had.

Talking about work is necessary to get people onboard, but more importantly, I need to walk the talk.

#professional

[vergelle]

Echo Chamber 04: Correlation and Causation

Time for some useful reading (or watching) to improve our thought process! Given the height of discourse on US gun control policy, dengvaxia controversy in the Philippines, or any policy intervention for that matter, I think it’s best to develop thinking in systems.

My mentor is a seasoned systems thinker. When he pulls out a sketch pad to draw mind maps during discussions, you know it’s getting serious. I’m sharing some links for reading because I think that’s what many of us ought to become too, not just to think more correctly but also, as with policy, act in a way that gives rise to our desired outcomes.

Spurious correlations perfectly exemplifies what we commonly hear: correlations do not necessarily mean causation. I think this collection is enough to hype one up on the matter.

If correlation does not imply causation, then what does? takes us further by showing that this is all about adequately making a model of the world, as far as our study or policy requires.

Correlation CAN imply causation! by minutephysics is a more exciting way to learn this. It basically says the same thing: improve your model of the world, add variables, and some stuff on statistics.

#echo chamber #professional