So Easy

You know that feeling when you love a song so much you play it every single day… until one random Thursday you hear the first five seconds and think, if I hear this again I might vomit?

Yep. Olivia Dean’s So Easy (to Fall in Love) does that to me. I loved it. I cherished it. I basically made it my personal anthem. And now? I need space and other songs!

Call it my personal enigma. It does not only happen with a song or a place. It happens with people too. When I like something or someone, I go all in. I monitor their appearances. I am a publicist. I am a brand ambassador. And then… the intensity fades. I get too consumed at first, and then it dies down like a phone battery at 2 percent.

Take Nadine Lustre, for example. I was such a huge fan during her OTWOL days. I loved how simple she seemed, selling her used clothes at a garage sale. I found it refreshing. A celebrity decluttering like the rest of us? Iconic!

Then she kinda morphed into someone else. She made a full 360 turn. And somehow I was the one who got dizzy. I lost interest.

I do not think I have that die hard fanaticism persona. My friend once told me, "why not check out a BTS concert? You might become a fan."

Listen. I like some of their songs. But to spend a crazy amount of money to watch them live? My pockets and I had a meeting. The answer was easy: Hard Pass. I am a fan of John Mayer, but even then I kept myself in check with ticket costs. I am not a fan-fan. You know what I mean? I am emotionally invested but financially responsible.

If there is anything I am dying hard as a fan, it is the people close to me.

I am a fan of my sister. I am a fan of my friends. I am a fan of people who, no matter how much they struggle, still show up every day. I am a fan of people who refuse to dump their anger, misery, and emotional heavy lifting onto everyone else. That takes strength. To me, that deserves merch.

I am also a loyal fan of sushi, dimsum, and pansit. No character development there. I will never get sick of them. I am a fan of traveling and how it makes me feel small in the expanse of the world but big in the expanse of my mind. 

I am a fan of reflective podcasts. I am a fan of transformational leadership. I am a fan of people who try to be good even when being evil would be the easier shortcut.

Some things I will outgrow. Some songs will be overplayed. Some idols will fall off the pedestal I built for them.

I may outplay Olivia's So Easy (to fall in love) but I will always be a fan of love. That one, I will not get sick of.

No matter how my role model of love fails me.

Or no matter how long I have to wait.

Or no matter how my over-two-decade prayer still remains unanswered.

Romantic Baboy

“So, can we unsingle ourselves?” he asked.

“Why not?” I replied.

His smile grew wider. “Does that mean…?”

“Give me three days,” I said.

I’ll be honest. This was never in my plans. This was never how I imagined it would be.

But random and impulsive chapters have always found their way into my life. Funny, because I’ve always seen myself as a passionate planner. Old school. By the book. Follow the rules. And yet, doing something out of the ordinary gives me a thrill.

The random long drives. The biglang liko into a less-traveled path. The impromptu encounters. Call it rebelling against my goody-goody image. After a well-planned week, I crave a breath of fresh air. I crave variety.

It was meant to be a joke.

Three days? Anyone who truly knows me knows how long I take to think things through. I prepare. I mull things over. I contemplate. Big time. I lose sleep before arriving at a single conclusion.

My being single is a mystery in itself.

I once met someone for the first time, and she asked, “Why have you been single for a long time?”

I went quiet. For years, I’ve laughed that question off. Friends know how high my standards are, so I never feel the need to explain. Family members have slowly stopped asking. But a near stranger asking me so casually caught me off guard.

It baffled me more than I expected.

Modesty aside, I’ve always been surrounded by boys, then men, who liked me. Some confessed. Others gave up after realizing how hard it is to woo me. I’m a hopeless case.

Her question sparked something deeper. Bakit nga ba?

First, I believe in love. It’s not as if I’ve been badly hurt. In fact, I’ve never felt that intense, shattering pain from a failed relationship. Second, I’ve had good role models. The kind that make you believe in lasting love, and also quietly fear not finding the same. Lastly, I have requirements. Yes, requirements. Non-negotiable.

But how do you compress all that into one neat answer?

She waited, eager and curious. I smiled, a little confused. I couldn’t brush it off with a laugh the way I do with friends. They know me. This woman barely did, yet she genuinely wanted to.

So I settled on the least complicated truth. “I just haven’t found him yet.”

“But are you dating?” she asked.

Fair question.

To be fair, I’ve had my share of dates and getting-to-know-yous. Are they enough? In that department, I can hardly convince myself. I’d love to shout “Yes!” for dramatic effect, but who am I kidding? Sometimes I go on dates simply because I want company, because I feel social. Does that even count?

Lately I’ve been asking myself, when I go out on dates, is my heart fully in it? Or am I only giving half of myself?

I’m still figuring that out.

The most fascinating part of self-discovery is actually spending time with yourself. These days, I play golf on weekends, meet friends, or take myself out on solo dates. The more time I spend alone, the more convinced I am that I am capable. I can hold my own. I can entertain myself. I don’t get bored being alone.

That scares me. LOL.

Who needs a man when you can take care of yourself? Scary, right?

And yet, my greatest dream, one I repeat over and over, is to settle down and have a little family of my own. How does that dream come true when I’m so good at being me, myself, and I?

Why is it so hard for me to open up to someone who might be a real partner?

Why do I feel like one slightly disastrous date is already a sign of failure? If he’s late. If he has one trait I don’t like. Why does it feel so final?

But then again, if we’re talking about self-discovery, maybe part of it is allowing opportunities in. Maybe it’s letting someone be brave enough to ask.

So when someone says, “Can we unsingle ourselves?”

I thought, how can I cross the bridge if I refuse to step onto it?

Bahala na si Batman.

Of gratitude and its magnitude

“Thank you for…”

I’ve always believed in practicing gratitude. I like being grateful. I like feeling nostalgic about the people, places, and moments that have shaped my life, often in ways far greater than I imagined.

But sometimes, reality insists on being felt.

Things happen. Everything shifts. And you’re left with no choice but to move forward. There’s barely time to adjust. You’re in the front seat, taking it all in while adjusting at the same time.

The change in management at the job you finally love. The shift in personalities of people you thought would be in your life forever. The issues that were supposed to be resolved, but a decade later show up again in the same old patterns. These are changes you never asked for. Changes that need time, but life does not pause just because you need a moment.

It’s difficult. Exhausting, even. You run through every possibility. You draft plans from A to Z. You think, “So this is how things go from here…” And still, you do your best to keep up. To stay afloat. To navigate whatever is in front of you.

No matter how much of a planner you are, ready or not, and most often not, you take it in. You try. You keep trying.

Someone once asked me, “Why do Catholics or Christians thank God even when they’re given problems?”

I smiled. For a second, I had no neat explanation. I could have gone deep into Theology, Psychology, or Philosophy, but how do you explain that thanking God in the middle of trials comes from a personal relationship with Him?

There isn’t always a polished answer. It’s like explaining why you prefer apples over oranges. It’s personal.

What I do know is this. Life isn’t easy. Whose is?

Still, we continue. We hold our heads high. We look for tiny glimmers along the way. The short trips. The pistachio-filled chocolate. A BTS music video. A K-drama kiss scene that feels like it lasts an hour but is really just a dramatic camera spin. Small things. Simple things. But they count.

From a distance, my life might look easy, maybe even glamorous. But the inner battles, the quiet wars in my head, are not easy to fight. And if I let myself dwell there too long, I start sinking instead of swimming.

The more space I give those hard truths, the more power they have over me. Some realities are brutally honest. Painful, even unbearable, to sit with for too long.

“Mental space.” I learned that term recently. And the more I understand it, the more I realize that what we give space to grows. So why give harsh realities more room than they deserve? Why not make more space for the good that is still unfolding?

That’s where gratitude finds its strength.

Thanks for…

A thousand reasons to be grateful, outweighing the dozen demons that try to silence a single thank you.