Thank you 2015 and Hello 2016

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear
How do you measure, measure a year...

To declare that 2015 was definitely my year is an understatement. If there were losses and disappointments, there were more gains and joys.

Two trips to Boracay, one to Clark, one to Cebu, and one to Bangkok (which I never expected), courtesy of Insular Life; my daughter getting a job; my son capping 3rd grade by ranking first in the class; my car Christian Grey finally getting the repair he so deserved after a minor damage late December; trips to Baguio and Tagaytay with the family; reuniting with good old friends, gaining new ones and welcoming new people in my life; kicking and quitting old and bad habits; losing weight and finally winning the battle against the bulge; hosting and being a part of successful company events such as the Awards Night and Christmas Party; getting recognitions and an unexpected promotion - I simply could not ask for more. It would be too much.

Other 2015 highlights include being a principal sponsor in the wedding of my first godchild; going to Pico de Loro for the first time; seeing my high school mentors; seeing relatives again after a long time; keeping in touch with friends; having more "me" times; unwinding after office with colleagues; having a new grandnephew, Liam; Caehl taking piano lessons and joining a recital; attending weddings; watching my favorite basketball teams; being with people I love, and doing what I love. 

There's so much to thank for, so much to remember and be happy for. Thank You, Lord, for my family, my household, and my friends and loved ones. Thank You for the good health, and for keeping us safe and together. Thank You for the company I work for, that lets me do what I do best, and lets me be who I want to be. Thank You, Lord for everything, for Your infinite blessings, for all the opportunities that came and will come my way. Some of my prayers remained unanswered, I know now why. You sent me something else, and gave me more, more than I deserved.

Thank you, 2015. I am truly blessed. Thank you to the people who have been a part of it. I may have lost some, but I am a winner in more ways than one. I found some a little bit late but I will always take comfort in the belief that you meet the people you're supposed to, when the time is right.

Thank you for coming into my life. I always believed in the goodness of things, and that there is something good in every thing that happens. Thank you for being the best thing. When I think of this, I thank God and I can only think of happiness, and gratitude. And my heart is full of joy.

Hello 2016! May the good Lord continue to guide and bless us all.

~TheGoodGirl signing off for 2015

Radiate Happiness

“For every minute you are angry you lose sixty seconds of happiness.”

― Ralph Waldo Emerson

The other day, we were discussing the ranking/s of some popular blog sites. And my boss jokingly asked, “So, where’s therealgoodgirl?” And Tina said that my blog is all about goodness and good things only. Thank you, Tina, for taking note of that. It is. It certainly is. 

Then I remembered I have not blogged at all for almost a month now.

What do you write when you have nothing to write about?

I’ve always said that there is a lot to write about. There is so much to write about. It is ironic though that you could get a lot of inspiration when you are sad, in a bad mood, or feeling crazy. Somebody once said that it’s difficult to forget pain, and it’s even more difficult to remember sweetness. “We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.”

So what do you do when you are happy? Sometimes you end up just enjoying that feeling, that good mood, those positive vibes, those pleasant emotions that you forget to write about it. Or sometimes you are embarrassed to share or show it.

But when I am not blogging, I write on my journal. There, I could shamelessly express my feelings, without having to share everything to the whole world. They say that journal writing, especially when you write about positive stuff, brings out the best in you – emotionally, physically, mentally. My “happy writing” is all about joy, gratitude, peace, hope, pride, amusement, inspiration, awe, and most of all, love. It could just be a line or two. Or paragraphs. It could be a note or a letter. Or poetry. I wish I knew how to compose a song. But Taylor Swift, I am not.

American author Tom Bodett said that a person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world: someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for.

Humans are designed to be happy. It’s easier to express happiness though when you speak or simply narrate your thoughts. It’s harder to put it into writing and bring it to life, in a way that you radiate happiness to other people. Sometimes the written words are not enough. But always remember, in any way you can, spread happiness, radiate positive vibes, and leave a sparkle wherever you go.

~TheGoodGirl

Laughing Out Loud

Jessica Soho:  “Idescribe nyo nga ho ang feeling...humahagalpak ang mga tao dahil sa jokes nyo.”

Dolphy: “Ah ibang klase ang feeling.”

-Kapuso Mo, Jessica Soho, November 2010

Last Saturday night, as Sir Gerry and I were on our way back to the hotel after attending WFMA’s White Party at the beach front, a woman (one of the convention delegates) stopped us.

“Ang galing nyo, teka, ipapakilala ko (sa inyo) mga anak ko. Idol nila kayo.”

We thanked her and her daughters and as we continued walking, I shared with Sir Gerry how I am thankful for this particular God’s gift – making people laugh. And how I consider it a blessing – hearing them laugh.  Ang sarap ng feeling, and there’s no way to describe it. And for young people to look up to us and admire us, it’s simply incredible. It gives you a different kind of high, it is even addictive. And when people come up to you and tell you they love what you do, feeling celebrity ka.  

Not a few have asked me where I got it - my sense of humor and timing. It’s in the genes. My late father was a comedian. Friends couldn’t get enough of him. When he wasn’t around, people would ask for him. As soon as he would arrive, they would flock to him and laughter would be in the air. My siblings are all good hosts, singers, performers, and yes, comedians. Humor is in our blood. I grew up in laughter. There were times that were so difficult for the family but we would just take turns making each other laugh. Until now, when we reminisce about the good old days, tawa lang kami ng tawang magkakapatid.  My mom, pa-simpleng bumanat. When all of us are together, hindi pwedeng walang babanat. At hindi pwedeng wala kang baon. Pag may binato sa iyo, dapat mabilis ka pumick-up. Dapat, lagi kang may punch line. Otherwise, olats ka.

Hosting has always been a favorite task of mine. I have been doing it for Insular Life for almost 20 years. Yes, even on my first year on the job, I was already tapped to host company events. I also accept other hosting stints. Sometimes, I get tokens / honoraria. But most of the times, it’s just a labor of love. A simple thank you would be enough. When you love what you do, it doesn’t seem like working. Modesty aside, I can do it even with my eyes closed. Just give me the program flow, I can handle it, with or without a script. Never mind if people don’t believe that I’m really an introvert in real life. True, I am a shy person. And I do have my quiet and down times. But I shine when I am on stage. I still do get jitters every time. And I always say a prayer before I start. Sabi nila, pag hindi ka na kinakabahan, dun ka na kabahan.

But hosting is one thing. Eliciting laughter from your audience is another. They do not usually go hand in hand. It’s a bonus if you can do both. Most actors say it’s easier to make people cry, than to make them laugh.

According to psychologists, “We don’t laugh when we only hear something funny but in addition we laugh because we experience some kind of happiness that results from the other psychological factors involved in the joke.” I once read that laughter is both fundamentally social, and rooted deep within our brains, part and parcel of ancient brain structures. We laugh because we feel like it, because our brains make us, and because we want to fit in socially. It is difficult to laugh on demand, the same way that it is hard to suppress it.

Laughing is, and will always be, the best therapy. And as Charles Dickens said, “There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor.” And “the most wasted of all days is one without laughter.” That, folks, came from e.e.cummings.

Live. Love. Laugh. In any order you prefer. But don't - never - forget to laugh.

(My warmest thanks to my WFMA Family, and to Insular Life's Business Development Unit, for allowing me to share this gift.)

~TheGoodGirl

Rainy Days and Mondays

 “(It) can’t rain all the time.”

-         - Eric Draven, The Crow (1994)

From @macmacshutterbug

What is it about the rain that makes you feel lazy...that makes you just want to curl up in bed and stay in your room forever. What is it about the rain that makes you feel blue, sad and gloomy?

I used to hate the rain. Rains have this effect on me. When it pours, I can't help but look out of the window and reflect on life and the stuff it's made of. It makes me sad. I remember when we were still kids, we would draw up images of the sun on the ground using chalk to make the rain go away. But we would all enjoy taking a rain bath.

As a grown-up, how I hated walking in the rain, with mud splattering on my legs or my jeans. And there are people who don’t know how to carry umbrellas, mabunggo ka kung mabubunggo. Ang hirap sumakay, ang daming commuters, traffic, siksikan. Ayoko ng masikip, ayoko ng maputik.

Yet there are happy rain memories. Like wading along flooded streets and holding hands with someone during my college days in UST. Name the street, baha for sure - España, P. Noval, Gov. Forbes (now Lacson), Dapitan. Wala kang ligtas. Sometimes we would stay late in school, at the AB Student Council office, or any vacant room, or just the hallways, waiting for the pouring to stop. Going home, a ride would be hard to find but we would keep on laughing just the same, making fun of our situation. And even now, I can still remember the days Alex (then my boyfriend) would pick me up in my office in Mandaluyong, we would share an umbrella with his arms around me, walking towards Crossing, wet but happy because we were together.

Rains also remind me of people I love, people I miss the most, people I would want to be with at that precise moment. How I wish I can protect them all from the torrent. That we would be safe and warm together, having something hot to drink or eat, reading a book, listening to music or watching a movie, sitting side by side, having a conversation or just enjoying the silence. Or if you're on the road, inside the car, with the wipers moving back and forth frantically, who cares as long as you are together. Never mind the violent flow outside. Just listen to its rhythm as you drive home safely, with music on, talking in low voices, or perhaps laughing together.

The rain makes me want to write. It seems ironic, but somehow it brings a warm nostalgic feeling, that it inspires you to share something of yourself with people.

So maybe…there’s another way to look at it...There’s something about the rain that reminds you to focus on the brighter side of life, count your blessings, and wait for the rainbow.

Does the rain make you feel the same?

~TheGoodGirl

September Seventeen

It’s my favorite date of the year – maybe next to Christmas. It’s my day. And there are three things the kid in me used to look forward to (the most) each time – my grandparents’ and aunt’s birthday cards from the mail (with a dollar slipped inside), my father’s text (in all caps – HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANAK! LOVE, PAPA AND MAMA), and my mom’s phone call.

Mama would call me up as soon as I get home from church. She knows I go to the 6am mass, and that I’m home on a birthday leave. And just hearing her voice comforts me and reminds me of how thankful I am for being their daughter, and for having my siblings whom I love so much.

Usually I’m alone at this time of the day, without my three CAEs...enjoying my "ME" time, having breakfast, replying to Facebook, Twitter, Viber and SMS greetings. I would count my blessings, grateful for each and every item on my list, and yes, write my birthday blog – the one you’re reading now.

There are many things to be thankful for. But I have always written about them every year, enumerating them one by one. This time though, I want to list them down in silence, for they are best left in the place where it matters most - my heart.

Even if a lot of good things have happened to me, I have always believed that better things are yet to come. "Hope is a good thing. And maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies."

I am 44. Thank You Lord. My prayers may often go unanswered but You gave me more than enough, and You gave me so much more. More than I have ever hoped for. More than I deserve.

~TheGoodGirl 

The Nose Knows

"There is no accounting for love or why one look, one casual touch...one breath of perfumed air can ignite feelings so strong it's almost painful..."

-Alex & Emma, 2003

If there's one human sense that I loved the most, it would be the sense of smell (olfaction). If only for the way it sparks memories. Am I making sense?

I am sure that most of you have experienced catching a chance whiff of something and that transported you back to a particular time and place in your life. How does the brain anatomy allow certain smells to do that? What is the science behind this? Why do certain odors trigger or evoke emotional memories? And have the power to even unlock forgotten memories and associations?

I have this book (Private Pleasures by my all-time favorite Lawrence Sanders) which dealt with hormones and chemical reactions. It said that certain fragrances give a feeling of romance, intimacy and warm understanding. That there's one which would make you recall your first kiss, your wedding day, the birth of your first child; one that can bring back memories of happy days and enchanted nights, among others.

I read that anatomically, as explained by a neuroscientist who is an expert on olfactory memory, “The olfactory system has unique connections with two key regions in the brain's temporal lobe: the hippocampus, which is critical for laying down new long-term memories, and the amygdala, critical for processing emotions. Unlike all the other senses (i.e., vision, touch and hearing), which require many connections — synapses — to reach the hippocampus and amygdala, olfactory information has immediate access to those systems. It therefore has the ability to lay down long-lasting memories linked to particular times and places (a specialty of the hippocampus) and to include deep emotional resonance associated with those memories (processed by the amygdala).”

I remember Alex's ‘Eternity’ torturing me to death when I was on my first trimester with Cae and I would always throw up, the same with Safeguard green variant. I don’t know if it still exists today. Blech! There's also ‘Anais Anais’, which reminds me of my good friend Nessa in Australia, and from which my daughter got her name. ‘Miracle’ would always remind me of my husband, the way ‘Chic Petals' never fails to remind me of rainy afternoons, while waiting for a friend. My ‘Crazy Girl’ cologne once prompted Caehl to ask, “Mommy, what did you put on? It reminds me of cake.” My Hugo collection would also remind me of ex-loves, while Benetton Colours would always bring back memories of my first job.

I love the smell of freshly washed linen, freshly cut grass, and newly shampooed hair. I love the smell of shampoo on my hair each time I wake up in the morning. I love the scent of books, both old and new. I love spices. I love the scent of Vicks. And lavender. Peppermint. And new cars. I love tearing open a fresh bar of soap, and soaps remind me of my late Papa whose cheeks would always smell so nice. My son's kili-kili. I love the smell of lemon, of lime. Green apples. Cucumbers. Vanilla. And do you remember those packages or tissue-lined imported items sent to you by relatives from abroad? Do you agree with me that the stuff they send you has a distinctive smell (amoy-imported)?

There's also a scent that used to remind me of my late aunt, and days after she passed away, I would always pass by her bedroom to keep her alive. And then there are smells that remind me of college days, those rainy years in UST. There are scents that remind me of sunsets. And warm nights. And damp afternoons with a loved one. Of mauves and purples. Of yellows and oranges. Do rains smell? And do colors have scents? Hahaha I don't know.

I recall my niece Meg, when she was younger, and how she wouldn't let go of the shirt her mom wore the night before, because she’d find her comfort in there while my sister is out on an errand. The way old cupboards would bring you wonderful memories of your childhood, and happy moments with your grandparents. The way grade school students, as soon as they come out of their classrooms, would smell of rubber erasers and you would suddenly remember your good old school days.

Sometimes these memories are just lodged in your mind, entangled with all the other memories. Some of them are untouched, unspoken, and forgotten - whether intentional or unintentional. But it would take only one whiff, and they come rushing back and you start remembering. Again.

~TheGoodGirl 

Half of My Heart

But are we all lost stars, trying to light up the dark?

- Lost Stars

For someone who has been married for 22 years, I have been asked too often how one is able to stay long in a marriage. Especially if one got hitched at an early age like me. So many factors contribute to marital breakdown – immaturity, infidelity, money, communication, addictions, sex, fatigue, to name a few. And in this age of internet and information technology, almost nothing is impossible, or better yet, almost everything is possible.

I am not ashamed to say that the primary reason we got married young was because I got pregnant. At that time, I was just a year and a half out of college and I had to give up a job because of my difficult pregnancy until my 5^th month. Yet at that time, I was sure that he was going to be the person I would marry. Perhaps that knowledge and that certainty stemmed from the fact that I had previous relationships which never reached that level. I believe it when people say that you will know if and when that person is The One. And I also believe that if and when that person is indeed The One, hindi mo na patatagalin pa.

However, I would be a hypocrite if I say that I don’t have what-ifs. What if I didn’t get pregnant? What if we waited a little bit? What if I took up Law instead? What if we met somebody else? What if hindi kami ang nagkatuluyan? Too late, I suppose, and it wouldn’t be fair to us both to be thinking of those things. But I guess, Alex too would have his own what-ifs. Like any other marriage, ours is not a fairy tale. Inasmuch as we’ve had great times, we’ve had our share of horrors and mishaps. Of faults and failures. Of trying times and setbacks. Inasmuch as there were great years, there were lost years that can never be brought back again. And how can we regain something that wasn’t even ours in the first place? They're just shoved in my favorite place – in the dark recesses of my mind, where they cannot haunt or hurt me any longer.

At the end of the day, there are no clear-cut rules, and there are different strokes for different folks. I am thankful when people accept and acknowledge my bits and pieces of advice when it comes to love and relationships. I am no guru but I think I am a bit of an expert in my own right. When you are able to go through the most difficult times and you still end up together, choosing each other after all has been said and done, I guess, you are credible.

1.  For the fun part, my Tip#1 goes like this: Mag-asawa ng pogi. Kahit anong mangyari, at least pogi. Asar ka na nga, panget pa? LOL Even if you fight, refuse to talk to each other, bigyan ka ng kunsumisyon, at least pogi pa rin hahaha
2. Tip#2: If you are a doer type of a person, it’s ok to marry a dreamer. But if you are a dreamer yourself, marry a doer, not a fellow dreamer. It’s ok to dream but someone between the two of you has to take action. You got to make things happen. It cannot be dreaming all the time.
3.  Tip#3: Believe in the goodness of everything. That despite everything, every single moment that happens or happened to you will always teach you about goodness.
4.  Tip#4: Don’t ever give up. Most couples nowadays just give up. Don’t. The heart is stronger than you think. Sometimes you feel your heart cannot take it any longer, but how it continues to endure pain after pain is something that amazes me up to this very minute. #PUSO
5.  Tip#5: If all else fails, refer to Tip#1. At least, pogi.

I could go on and on. But maybe, I can continue this in another blog. For my part, I am not a perfect wife and I guess no one is. But God knows I tried so hard and I worked so hard. Sure, I have my lapses, but I would like to believe that I’ve done more than my fair share in this partnership.

Above all, and most importantly, this marriage gave me two bright and beautiful children, who are the source of my pride and joy. And I don’t mean just bright and beautiful – as in really really bright and beautiful. Everything that happens, they say, has a reason. And if the reason for my early marriage is having these children, and being a mother to them, then I have no regrets at all.

Happy Birthday, Daddy!

~TheGoodGirl

Love in Action

Love is action. It isn’t talk, and it never has been. – Pat Conroy

Last week, my son Caehl was sick. It was one thing that he was sick, and another that I was away on a business trip in Cebu. I was monitoring him while attending the training, texting my kumare who’s his pedia, and giving instructions to the people back home. I kept on reminding Alex to do these things, but I just wanted to be sure they are done in my absence.

When I got back, Caehl was still not feeling well, but he managed to take his quarterly exams just the same. I was worried that he wasn’t able to answer the tests correctly, or that he was in a hurry to finish them, just so he could go home. Nanay Ev said that his class adviser was praising him for completing the exams despite his condition. Yesterday, I arrived home to see his test folder on my desk. I didn’t want to look, but why did I ever doubt my son? He got two perfect scores, and the rest, 1-2 mistakes. That was fine – no, that was great. My son did all right. But he still wanted to know what causes bacterial infection. That’s Caehl – he has to know the rationale, the root cause of anything and he’ll be ok.

Looking back, whenever my children get sick, I realized I am not really the nursing kind of mom. My daughter Caitlin even accused me once of not caring, or not showing that I care. It’s just that I am the type of mom who acts on the problem right away; it’s what you call “hindi ma-nene.” I would contact their doctors immediately and get things done – have them checked up, buy meds, ask them what they want to eat, tell them to rest and sleep. Maybe I lack the qualities of a caregiver, that’s why I didn’t go into health care, I am not cut out to be a nurse. While I do worry a lot, it’s how things work for me. And that’s who I am, and that’s my way of showing I care. Even in the workplace, while a meeting is going on regarding a project, nasa implementation mode na ko agad. I think it was my former boss Ma’am Myrna, who used to describe my working style as “aksyon agad.”

Maybe it’s because when I myself get sick, I don’t expect people to fuss over me. I’m ok, I can take care of myself. I know what to do. My body is my accountability. Or better yet, I don’t really show that I don’t feel well. Moms don’t get that much privilege. Even if we are sick, we still tackle our tasks like we’re not. Sometimes, I don’t know if I should be flattered that they think I’m a superwoman - invincible and powerful. I remember the time when I wasn’t speaking during dinner because I was having dysmenorrhea, and Caitilin and I had a fight. “Anak, hindi ba pwedeng tumahimik lang muna?” Short of saying, Can’t I be left alone for once? Don’t I have the right to be not ok? Can’t I be sick? That’s why I appreciate it greatly when in fairness, they give me space when I have migraine attacks or PMS, or when I simply want to sleep. I overheard Nanay Ev and Caehl one time. “Caehl, don’t disturb your mom. She might have a headache.” And Caehl replied, “No, she’s fine, she’s just sleeping.”

At the end of the day, we all have our own way of showing how we care for others. You may be the hug and physical touch type; some may do it by words of affirmation; others through quality time spent; while some, by acts of service – like me. Or it can be a combination of any of these things.

When I do things for you, even without your telling me, that’s my way of showing I love you. I am on my best mode when I am doing something for someone, and I love it when I do something for people without being asked or told. You don’t have to tell me, I just get things done – especially when I have to do things that I don’t like doing, but I still do it just the same - all out of love. And I will do it over and over again.

~TheGoodGirl

Stuck In Love

“I don't want to stay in the bad place, where no one believes in silver linings or love or happy endings.”

― Matthew Quick, The Silver Linings Playbook

In the movie Stuck in Love (2012), Samantha the daughter (Lily Collins) is a cynic when it comes to love. “If love is setting a place at the table for someone who is never coming home, I think I'll pass,” she said.

What is it about love that brands hopeless romantics as fools, and those who avoid it all costs, as realists? Why is love often associated with hurt and hearts breaking, and not with happiness and hope?

Some of my single female friends seem to have given up on love, and on finding the One. Sometimes you have to make things happen. Who said it’s illegal for a girl to make the first move and let a guy know how she feels? I remember telling someone that I am a person who is not and will never be afraid of love. Back then, if I liked someone or fell for a guy, I would let him know – even if it means taking the risk of being rejected (i.e. if he didn’t like me back). But what about if he does/did, and all he needed was a push, or a bit of encouragement? Of course, not all of them succumbed to my charms, but most of them did. Quite a gamble, I must say, but what about if I just waited and he didn’t make the first move at all? Sayang ang panahon, I would always say. Sayang ang panahon when we could already be together, making memories of our own, instead of just waiting and wishing and dreaming and hoping.

Yes, love is complicated. It’s not all about thrills and whistles, and bells and chimes. It’s not always mutual or reciprocated, or being loved in return.  Sometimes, it being the source of your happiness is also the same source of pain and sadness. Love sometimes does not have to be raucous. It’s not all about noise and excitement, one that comes with a town crier, or a music band. Sometimes, there’s a calm kind of love, the kind that just quietly seeps in, during your unguarded moments, and before you know it, it’s there - when you least expect it. Sometimes, love takes time and effort. If you don’t take action, nothing will happen. Yet sometimes, you don’t have to look for love, it is right there all along. Sometimes, love does not have to be a show, or a performance. Just a look, a touch, a smile, a comfortable silence - no words are necessary. Sometimes, it comes once, if you are lucky enough. But there are second chances, and third, and fourth, before you hit the jackpot. Sometimes, it never comes at all.

There are pains inasmuch as there are gains. There are happy endings, inasmuch as there are sad endings. And there are no 'forevers' inasmuch as there are 'happily ever afters'. And only when you come to terms with its complexities in all its forms that you learn to love, lose, live, leave, let go and laugh.

Read more in my previous blog A Face in the Crowd http://therealgoodgirl.blogspot.com/2014/11/a-face-in-crowd.html

~TheGoodGirl

Taylor-Fit

"I've never thought about songwriting as a weapon. I've only thought about it as a way to help me get through love and loss and sadness and loneliness and growing up."

“Words can break someone into a million pieces, but they can also put them back together. I hope you use yours for good, because the only words you'll regret more than the ones left unsaid are the ones you use to intentionally hurt someone.”

― Taylor Swift

I am a Swiftie – and I’m proud of it.

I don’t care about her long list of failed relationships (hey, I’m a girl, too), I love her songwriting and I love her songs. Taylor Swift is a girl after my own heart. She writes songs the way I write my stories – full of emotions, at the moment, and so…real. Her way with words, at such a young age, and how she turns her experiences into hit songs, I will always be a fan. I don’t care if her age is closer to my daughter’s. This girl is simply amazing.

There is always a Taylor Swift song for almost anything – when you’re in love, when you’re sad or mad, or happy, when you've just met someone new or when you’re getting over someone, and every emotion there is on the spectrum, as they say. There's not a day in the week that I don't have her on my playlist. There's always a Taylor Day for me.

My Favorite Taylor Songs:

Red

-         A roller coaster of intense emotions, that’s why it’s red. It’s so good, and it’s so bad at the same time. The highs, the lows; the ups, the downs.

Touching him was like realizing all you ever wanted was right there in front of you

Memorizing him was as easy as knowing all the words to your old favorite song

Losing him was blue like I'd never known

Missing him was dark gray all alone

Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met

But loving him was red

Begin Again

-        What can I say, but I love new beginnings, especially after picking up the pieces of a broken heart and the magic brought about by meeting someone new and looking forward to something great.

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid

I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did

I've been spending the last eight months

Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again

Enchanted

-        The enchantment of meeting someone, it’s like floating after having that connection, of being alive after a long time, and you can’t stop thinking of that someone.

This is me praying that

This was the very first page

Not where the story line ends

My thoughts will echo your name

Until I see you again

These are the words I held back

As I was leaving too soon

I was enchanted to meet you

Back to December

-        When you look back at a romance with regret for having ended it. Sort of like an apology song.

Maybe this is wishful thinking,

Probably mindless dreaming,

But if we loved again, I swear I'd love you right.

I Almost Do

-        Of missing someone and resisting the urge to call, knowing it’s a bad idea.

And I just wanna tell you

It takes everything in me not to call you.

And I wish I could run to you.

And I hope you know that every time I don't

I almost do,

I almost do.

Treacherous

-        Of a love that seemed romantic and perfect, but dangerous.

Two headlights shine through the sleepless night

And I will get you, and get you alone

Your name has echoed through my mind

And I just think you should, think you should know

That nothing safe is worth the drive and I would

Follow you, follow you home...

I'll follow you, follow you home...

Fearless

-        The title itself propels it to the top of my list. One should remain fearless, even after a series of pains, disappointments. No matter how many times you fall and get hurt, you shouldn't be afraid to stand up and love again.

So baby drive slow

Til we run out of road in this one horse town

I wanna stay right here in this passenger's seat

You put your eyes on me

In this moment now capture it remember it

Well you stood there with me in the doorway my hands shake

I'm not usually this way but

You pull me in and I'm a little more brave

It's the first kiss, it's flawless, really something, it's fearless.

~TheGoodGirl

Sleepless in Shuttle

On our way to the office this morning, I was telling Alex about my van ride yesterday. How I disliked the girl who sat beside me. She’s chubby, and probably years older than Cae. From the back, she transferred to the front row, so I assumed she would get off before us. But no, she was still there when it was my turn. I waited for her to move, I think I said “Excuse me” twice. She wouldn’t budge. “Excuuuuuuuusssssse me,” I said again. Aba, ayaw pa rin. The other passengers were already looking at us. Then I said, “Parang ayaw mo magpababa ah!” Then I didn’t wait na, bumaba na lang ako (kasehodang matamaan sya) and slammed the door. I knew she was staring at me, I wished I stared at her back and said a few more things, but I didn’t care anymore.

My point was, kung hindi ka naman bababa agad and you chose the seat near the door, then expect that somebody else will get off ahead of you, so be prepared to move or allow them to get off. I do that – a lot. Otherwise, dun ka maupo sa likod. If you don’t want to be disturbed. For me, it doesn’t matter if the person is older or younger than me. If I’m blocking his or her way, bababa ako. It’s just the way things are. Magpapadaan ka talaga. Isa lang ang exit eh. Pare-pareho lang tayong pasahero at hindi tayo ang may-ari ng sasakyan. Where are the manners of this girl? Parang mommy na lang nya ko. I told Alex I would have understood if it were raining, syempre she’d get wet. But it wasn’t. Plain laziness and bad manners.

Alex said, “Magblog ka nga ng shuttle etiquette.” Lol.

I have a lot of van adventures – funny, infuriating, minsan mapapailing ka na lang, di mo alam kung maiinis ka or matatawa. If there is phone or email etiquette, there must be ‘shuttle etiquette’, too.

People who are talking loudly over the phone, hindi kaya sila nahihiya na marinig yung conversation nila? I hate that. Pwede namang mahina lang.

People who snore. Wow. Ako ang nahihiya whenever somebody does that.

People who talk loudly with each other. Ah excuse me po, when you’re tired after a day’s work, parang ayaw mo ng maingay. Or is it just my age?

People who kept on complaining about the heat inside the van, or how it is too crowded. Please. Normal na po ang siksikan, ganun talaga. Apatan kung apatan. Don’t blame the other passengers. Ayaw pa umusog. Eh di bayaran mo lahat para wala kang katabi. Or better yet, buy your own vehicle.

People who are sweaty. Ewwww. Ang lagkit kaya.

People who don’t smell good. Naman.  No explanation necessary.

Guys na nakabukaka. Ano ba namang ipitin mo yan, sakop mo na lahat ng upuan ah.

People who wear earphones or are stuck to their headsets na dinig na dinig ng lahat kung gaano kalakas, hindi tuloy marinig na may bababa.

Parents na may kinakandong na bata, kahit masikip na. Ibayad ninyo na yan. Especially if they’re taking too much space. I don’t mind crying babies, it’s not their fault. And I don’t mind children who talk a lot during the trip. Ok lang yun. But sometimes, natatapakan ka, or nadudumihan ka ng shoes nila. Sorry na lang.

Yung iba naman, pasakay pa lang, “Sa ano lang ako bababa.” Ano ba yan, hindi pa nga sumasakay, bababa na agad? Lahat gusto maupo sa bungad. May sasakyan bang puro bungad??? If you can picture in your mind the flyer used by the Wright brothers, ayun pwede yun.

But there is still some goodness inside the shuttle, in all fairness. People who are nice, people who initiate small talks, especially senior citizens or older ones who smile at you. Guys who smell good, na parang gusto ko nang sabihan ng, “Boss, pakiss naman, ambango eh.” People with manners, who say ‘excuse me’ and ‘thank you’. People who open the door for you, or echo your “Sa tabi lang,” when the driver didn’t hear you. People who are considerate. People who are good-natured, hindi mareklamo.

I know some will not agree with me, kanya-kanyang opinion lang naman yan. And there are some who find my adventures amusing. It's ok for me to commute, no big deal. I am used to that. I grew up taking tricycles, jeepneys, buses. Commuting or taking public transport may be a challenge, it’s a jungle out there, but we can still practice good manners and right conduct to enjoy the ride.

~TheGoodGirl

Being Too Busy – is there such a thing?

Every day is a Mother's Day.

“We all have the same 24/7. What we do with our time becomes our priority. Choose what you do with your time and do not lead a life by default” ― Patt Hollinger Pickett

A former boss once said, “We all have the same 24 hours a day. I often wonder why some people always say as an excuse that they don’t have the time.”

Maybe it’s inherent for women. Having time for everything, that is. A mom and a dad have the same 24 hours, but the former can seem to accomplish more than the latter. I am not being sexist, I am just saying it is true or it can be true. I have a 7am-4pm job, and as soon as I get home, there’s still work to be done. I can still do errands, do a household check, spend time with my kids, watch TV, have a social media life, read, write, and have some “me” time.

While everyone else is asleep, a mom can still be up, making sure the house is tidy, all the dishes washed, all lights out.  And she can be the same person to wake up before anyone else does. She can be a working mom and do household chores at the same time, and help kids do their homework or projects. I think a female is more effective as a multi-tasker than her counterpart. I discovered that if a man is busy on something, sometimes his world stops because he is doing that something, or focusing on that something. If you give him another task or more than one task, he will be TOO BUSY. Women on the other hand seem to have that built-in “trash segregation system” on their mind – parang may color coding sa isip - this is for this, this is for that. We have a lot on our plates but we still can get a lot of things done. I guess physicality is the issue why Jerry Siegel created Superman as a He.

Nobody is too busy. I don’t buy that (except if it's a life-and-death situation). I’m a busy girl. I may be busy with a lot of things, but I can never be too busy for my family, for friends, for loved ones, for my hobbies or interests, for the things that matter most. I am busy, but I can still write. I am busy, but I can still have fun. I am never too busy to care or to show that I care. I will always find time. If I fail to do something, it’s because I don’t want to do it, or it’s not a priority, and not because I don’t have time for it. Let’s stop glorifying “busy” that it has become another word for “fine.” 

"How are you?" "Busy." 

Never get too busy with life, that you don’t have time to live.

~TheGoodGirl

Thomasian Throwback

Acknowledgment: http://wikimapia.org/3002449/Rosarium-Garden#/photo/1214931

I was having lunch with my kids one day, listening to Cae and Kong’s bantering and talking about UST. Butting in, I said what I miss about UST, or where I used to hang out, was Tinoko Park. That’s where 3C5/4C5 (in short, Journ majors) would usually stay, while waiting for the next class or just not wanting to go home yet. It is the park across AB (or St. Raymund’s Building). It is now known as Rosarium.

To me, Tinoko will always be a place where dreams were conceived, ideals carried on, relationships found and lost. I remember it was where most of the students’ political groups used to gather, with their streamers and stuff strewn all over. For some, it served as a rehearsal venue, with cassette recorders in tow. Some would bring their typewriters for paperwork or assignments. Some would review for their quizzes or exams. Tambayan. Kainan. Intayan. Meeting place. Lovers’ lane. Kung wala kang jowa nun, aww shet. I also remember a soft drink truck parked nearby, from where my naughty classmates “stole” a few bottles. Other favorite activities of Journ majors were people-watching, heckling, making noise, mang-okray ng mga nagdadaan, and endless chikahan. But lest you think that those were only the things we're good at, can I just say that UST AB Journalism has produced quite a lot of great graduates.

Life was so much simpler then. Hindi pa uso ang cellphone, Starbucks, gadgets. Puro hard copy ang notes, puro pa-xerox. Ang camera nun, de-film pa. There we were in Tretorn sneakers or Converse. “Walking shorts” pa ang tawag. And being a working student was an "in" thing then. If you hadn’t worked for a fast food chain during our time, you were an exception. I worked as service crew in Red Ribbon Timog when I was in 2^nd year. My work hours were 3pm-8pm (closing time) Monday-Saturday, after class; 4pm-8pm when I have PE classes. Alala ko, one time, after my table tennis class, diretso na ko sa office, still wearing my cream PE shirt, black skirt and black PE shoes. Since it was still early for my shift, using the wall, I practiced hitting the pingpong ball back and forth. I overheard someone say, “Sino yung bata?” Hahaha. Neneng-nene pa siguro nun, napagkamalan akong “bata.” The only celebrity I saw then was Regine Velasquez. When I was in 3^rd year, I worked as a part-time writer for a news agency which had an office on Scout Ybardolaza, QC. I would report every MWF in the afternoon. 

We did not have yet the carpark which houses McDonald’s, KFC, among others, now. Other popular tambayans were the UST Coop, the Main Building, Colayco Park (now the Quadricentennial Park) and eventually, The UST Miguel de Benavides Library. And of course, the Flame office in St. Raymund’s Building. Madalas din, naka-Indian seat lang sa corridors, in our long dark blue skirts. 

For me, the best “wholesome” kainans / hang-out places were Janet’s and Mike’s (the best Southern style fried chicken ever with cole slaw on the side), Malls close to UST were limited to SM City / North EDSA (1 jeepney ride away) and SM Centerpoint (1 bus ride away).

If you asked me if I had my share of flood horror stories, you bet. You will never be a real Thomasian kung wala kang experience na ganito. Ang dugong nananalaytay sa amin ay hindi lang black-white-gold, kundi tubig-baha. I was stranded many times, and I would walk home wading along the dark cold water. May ipis pa. Ewww. And yes, meron din namang HHWW sa baha memories. LOL.

And maybe the best thing that happened to me as a Thomasian was meeting my partner in life. While he was a Literature major, Alex and I had the same circle of writer-friends. Tahimik lang siya, medyo suplado. Hi Hello lang, usually. He was in love with (or getting over) another girl at that time, and I with somebody else, too. I didn’t know why I dreamed of him one night. The following morning, I saw him along Tinoko. I greeted him by saying, “Uy, napaginipan kita kagabi.” I didn’t wait for his answer, I just kept on walking. Yun pala, magiging kami later on.

One afternoon, April of 1992, there we were, Alex and I, sitting on one of the benches, watching the sunset. We were already a couple but we didn’t know it. We just needed formality. So I decided to ask. “So, anong anniversary natin? April 1 o 3?” And right then and there, we agreed that it was going to be April 3. Who said there was no forever? Was it Rita Rudner who said that "It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life."

UST will always be home. And I will always be a proud and growling Thomasian. #GoUSTE

~TheGoodGirl

Clutter-Keeper

I am a self-confessed clutter-keeper. I have no medical basis but I think it is hereditary. My mom is a clutter-keeper, too and from her, I got this trait– from keeping old Tupperware to towels to dinnerware to old receipts and bills. Like Mama, I just don’t have the heart to throw things away, for sentimental reasons. From my husband’s old love letters, greeting cards, gift cards down to my children’s baby clothes, toys and stick-figure drawings. 

In our closet, I still have the plastic wrappers of Alex’s Valentine flowers, chocolate wrappers, grocery receipts, coins, and old Christmas gifts from friends which I have never used. I have Cae’s and Caehl’s school receipts, test papers, and ID’s. Our hospital/ medical records are in legal envelopes, including billings, receipts and prescriptions. My pocket planners and journals are complete from year 1996. I used to keep credit card bills, cable receipts, telephone and cellphone bills, and all the bills in the world but I have already trained myself to throw them away after a year.

In my kitchen, you would see paper plates and cups, microwaveable plastic containers, even ice cream gallons and leche flan llaneras. Plastic and paper shopping bags? You bet. But only because we re-use it to line the trash bin. Plastic bottles? You bet. But only because we give it to people who would sell them to junk shops.

In the living room, old magazines, Caehl’s books and toys, photo frames, medals, awards, and photo albums clutter the shelves, as well as fast food delivery menus. Old crayons, pens, and markers are all over the library, including giveaway bags, my children’s old textbooks, and birthday tarps. And manuscripts and photocopies of press releases, both Alex’s and mine. My collection of Marian Rivera magazine covers are in a shelf in my bedroom.

In the same manner, I have the tendency to hoard old memories, and keep them in my heart and mind, memories that are good and bad, happy and sad. More often than not they don’t do me good, especially the not-so-pleasant ones. They make me angry. My vivid imagination enables me to re-live, recapture old horrors in my life as if they are happening all over again. Sometimes the stuff that I store are the very same ones who evoke these memories. Calendars, plane tickets, and yes, pictures. This is the part of my being a clutter-keeper that I hate and don’t want to keep anymore. This is the part that I want to get rid of. Because it does me no good.

When I had this depression around nine years ago, Alex would often tell me not to dwell on the past, especially the negative parts. Because it stops me from moving forward. Because it makes me angry. And because it’s not healthy. The past belongs to the past. And to learn from it, and to be wiser, better and stronger, is the best way to deal with it, than mope and sulk. I guess, like the clutter I have since learned to throw away, I will learn to discard this excess baggage and be able to lighten my load someday.

Well, what about the good ones? They encourage me to smile and move on, and inspire me to write entries such as this…and make me hold on to the belief that there’s still some goodness left in this world for us. And despite everything, after all has been said and done, every single moment that happens or happened to you will always teach you about goodness.

~TheGoodGirl

An Empty Jar

Inside my mind

And heart,

There is a library of memories.

The memories are contained in jars,

Categorized into years

And persons.

Like if I want to remember a certain year, I can just take out the jar labeled with that year, open its lid and release the memories. Or if I want to reminisce about a certain person, I will pick out the one bearing his or her name, and again, help myself to the memories I kept inside the jar.

- Memory Jars, Tales of The Good Girl, September 2014

When I opened one of my memory jars a year ago, I consequently released pent-up memories and things that happened which I thought would forever be at the backseat of my mind.

Back then, when I decided to put away this particular jar, I placed it where I would never see it again. I would always hold back each time there was something that would remind me of this year, and of certain persons in my life during this year. I have managed, for the longest time, to confine such experiences to my memory bank’s “black hole”, hoping they will disappear and never come back to haunt me, and hurt me.

I thought they were all gone. I never knew that opening that jar will make me remember and feel again the joys, the thrills, the fears, the disappointments, and the pains. Many times, I would tell myself to replace the lid and close the jar again, and put it back where it belongs – the past. There were times though that I thought the jar would remain open forever. But that was not going to happen.

Perhaps, to close the jar and return it to the shelf is not enough. Perhaps, it would be best if I take out all the contents, or shake the jar and throw everything in it away. That way, even if it remains open, it would be empty. And all the memories inside would forever be forgotten. And I would be finally free.

Thank you for the memories...

~TheGoodGirl

Where words leave off, music begins

You know what music is? 

God's little reminder that there's something else besides us in this universe, a harmonic connection between all living beings, every where, even the stars.
 -  August Rush, 2007

My most favorite scene/s in the movie. So touching. When Louis Connelly (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) and Evan Taylor (Freddie Highmore) met for the first time and played together, not knowing they are father and son.

I have been with Alex for 23 years now, but I didn’t know that he could play the piano so well. Well, I always knew they had this old piano in his brother’s house, but I didn’t know that he had it in him. He is known after all as a writer first and foremost, and not a musician (although he sings).

But for the past months, he would spend a lot of time on the keyboard, we have this electric organ at home which we bought for no reason at all. Alex would play pieces such as Beethoven’s Für Elise, and Mozart’s Einekleine Nachtmusik, and Rondo Alla Turca. I could hear his music from our bedroom. Sometimes it lulls me to sleep. I feel calm and comforted. And loved. But sometimes it wakes me up. Especially Rondo Alla Turca. Dad, don’t play so loud, I couldn't sleep, I would tell him. I need to sleep!

His playing must have inspired our son a lot. Caehl would Google the pieces his dad plays. And he either watches YouTube videos featuring the song/s, or just listen to them. When Alex would play fast, he would tell me, “Daddy is playing the fast version.” Then he would imitate his dad. Caehl even downloaded on his tab an app wherein he is simulating piano-playing.

One time, I heard the opening bars of Für Elise, then it stopped. I heard our helper talking to Caehl. From my room, I shouted, “Who was that? Was that Caehl?” I thought it was Alex. I was amazed. My son could play. I sing (I used to be a Glee Club officer), but I don’t play any instrument. I once took informal guitar lessons when I was a kid, but simply put, I don’t have the talent. The closest I could get to being “classical” was when I had this dream, sort of like travelling back in time, I was standing behind Johannes Brahm on the piano, with his back to me, composing his now famous Brahm’s Lullaby. I was there, I swear I was there. Just a little side note: I later learned that it was dedicated to his friend, Bertha Faber, when the latter gave birth to her second son. Brahms had been in love with Bertha and "constructed the melody of the Wiegenlied to suggest, as a hidden counter-melody, a song she used to sing to him." How romantic.

Then summer came. I don’t know who had the idea first, but it was a good one to enroll Caehl to piano lessons.

His lessons are almost over, three more sessions to go before their recital. His teacher said he is a fast learner. On Day 1, nasa page 20 na siya ng book nila. Alex accompanied him one time and he said Caehl seemed to be enjoying it. During our discussion, his teacher said she thought Caehl would quit, as he would sometimes throw a tantrum, especially when he couldn’t “master” it. “He is a perfectionist,” she said. He would play over and over again until he is satisfied. Hindi pwede sa kanya yung “Pwede na yan.” And typical of Caehl, he would just have to know the rationale of everything he does and studies. He would have to understand the reason behind everything. And he would enjoy it more. So sometimes, in the middle of the session, they would stop to talk, and then resume.

As I have said, this time I won’t take the credit. It's all Alex’s. And I thank God for his music. And for this gift. It’s a beautiful thing. And I am grateful that Caehl accepted the gift of music, too. I can’t get over this wonderful feeling. That we are able to have him experience it. That we are able to share this with him. I write. Alex and I are writers – but as Heinrich Heine put it: "Where words leave off, music begins."

In the movie August Rush (2007), August Rush said in his opening voice-over: Listen. Can you hear it? The music. I can hear it everywhere. In the wind... in the air... in the light. It's all around us. All you have to do is open yourself up. All you have to do... is listen.

Thank you for listening.

~TheGoodGirl

The Perfect Ending

I'm just a writer, Emma. 

I don't know what to do to show you how much I love you. 

I only have words. That's all I have.

~Alex Sheldon, Alex & Emma, 2003

For the longest time, I have been working on a story.

I haven’t been writing fiction for quite sometime now. But I had it. The five key elements were there - character, setting, conflict, plot and theme. And most importantly, the inspiration behind it, the heart and soul of writing that story was never lost.

But admittedly, I encountered difficulty inasmuch as I didn’t want it to end. Not that I didn’t know how to end it. Thing is, I already had a perfect ending in mind. But for some reason, I didn’t want it to have an ending. It was ongoing, and I wanted to keep it going. There were times that I thought tapos na ito. Tama na ito. Ayoko na. Yet every day, may nangyayari. I would add something. Or I would change my mind. I would have a change of heart. Baka pwede pa. How I wanted it to go on forever. Never mind that it was supposed to be a “short story.” I just didn’t want it to end.

Sooner or later, I knew that I had to write -30-. The struggle was on. Sometimes I could be stubborn. Sometimes I could be so persistent. All the signs were there, yet I kept on ignoring them. Hoping that one day, that perfect ending, that beautiful and happy ending would materialize. Baka naman pwede pa, I kept on wishing. Konti na lang, konting push pa. Baka makuha sa kulit. Even in my daily prayers, I would ask the Lord to give me more time. Dear God, You do know that I never give up. I won’t give up on this. Maybe in this story of mine, You would allow me to go on. Never mind the heartaches, never mind the strain. I just wanted this story to go on forever.

Yet one morning, I woke up to find that the end is near. The story has to be concluded. I have to wrap it up. Otherwise, it would just go nowhere. It is in fact going nowhere. Its beauty will soon get lost. Hindi na baleng matapos na in all its splendor, kesa naman pilitin ko pa, papangit lang.

And so, I am writing -30-. It’s time. Finally. I have now reached the end, and I have to write the ending it properly deserves. My story is finished. While the final chapter was not what I had originally in mind, and I didn’t see it coming, it has all come together. I couldn't put a happy ending, otherwise it would come out “pilit”. Sorry if it’s not the classic ending (I or) most readers would prefer, but at long last, I let the main character overcome her major conflict and put that conflict away - in the dark recesses of her mind.

The End.

~TheGoodGirl

Generation Gap

Last night, my son said, “Mommy, I’m Generation Z. Do you know what comes after that?”

Of course, I don’t. Pardon my ignorance. He continued, “After Gen X, there’s Gen Y, and then Gen Z.”

Ahhhh, I said. So you’re a millennial.

Nooooo, he protested. That’s Ate!

Sorry! I got it all mixed up. And so, I came to know that after Gen Z, there will be Generation Alpha.

A research on Filipino millennials (Gen Y) described these people (born 1984-1995) as:

•       Likely to be living with parents and siblings.

•       Fond of sports, food-tripping and malling.

•       Having a liking for sleeping and just hanging out.

•       Keen on having a tattoo, playing an instrument or performing on stage.

•       Having a desire to be married and become parents someday.

•       Less likely to attend religious services; although faith and spirituality are still top needs.

•       Using the internet as much as TV.

•       Believers that Internet is a daily essential, and that social media has changed how they communicate with loved ones.

•       Spending a lot of time on movie marathons, video games and texting.

Checking out these traits, they do seem to aptly describe my daughter. Alex and I were discussing this a while back, and as we talked about these millennial behaviors, we agreed on one thing: us, parents, the GenX’ers partly have a hand in what the GenYs have become.

I say “partly”, because we cannot be blamed for everything, and some people might not agree with our conclusion. But most parents like us have this one thing in common: we don’t want our children to experience hardship. If we can provide everything to them to the best we can do, we would. We don’t want them to feel disappointment, pain, hunger, sickness, or poverty as much as possible. We send them to good schools. Hatid-sundo sila hanggang maaari. Kung pwede lang na tayo na ang magkasakit, instead of them, sasaluhin na natin.

Of course, as parents, it is our obligation to support them and to give them what they need. But sometimes, our good intentions do not yield good results. Sometimes it spoils them. Na parang we do things for them kasi dapat lang. Minsan nawawalan na ng appreciation. The study said that unlike their predecessors who try to provide for their families (especially materially and financially), the Gen Y does not feel obliged to financially provide for this family. This means that for a millennial, the fact that he is not a burden to his family is already enough. It does not mean that he does not value his family, but to be financially independent is in itself a manifestation of that.

Some millennials also tend to lose motivation, or the desire to strive hard, kasi andyan naman sina Daddy and Mommy. So what if his studies take time, instead of 4 years, some would be pa-easy easy. May tuition provider naman, and he does not have to worry about his schooling expenses. Or “Wag munang magtrabaho, hindi naman ako inaasahan sa bahay.” Materially, we buy many things for them, to make it easier for them. Ayaw natin silang magcommute, so we buy cars for them or hire a driver. Unlike most of us, who had to work first before acquiring our first vehicle. Most houses have wireless routers, para hindi mahirapan sa homework or research projects. Tayo nun, typewriter lang or computer rental in a nearby shop. And yes, library pa rin. Paxerox-xerox sa Dapitan. Mobile phones, laptop, PS4, tablets – name it, they have it. Branded items. The latest stuff. Sometimes, the consequence of not having (or learning) things the hard way is they don’t appreciate what they have. Kasi they got it easily. Walang kahirap-hirap.

Some millennials wouldn’t hesitate to follow their passions. Even if it’s not financially rewarding. Tayo nun, dapat nursing. Or engineering. Basta yung in demand ang job. Because we have to support our families later on. Sila, they can take up photography or media arts, or anything they want. I’m not saying it’s wrong. But it’s because they believe that the financial rewards will come later, after pursuing their passion.

They are also vocal about their feelings, and will not hesitate to express their opinions. Tayo nun, pag pinagsasabihan or pinapagalitan ng parents, tahimik lang. Hindi ka pwedeng sumagot (or else, hihiram ka ng mukha sa aso.) Now, they have to say what they want to say, at that moment. Sasagot at sasagot. I don’t know if this is something to be proud of, but I have never talked back to my parents. Tahimik lang ako, and I would just cry. If ever I had something to say, sa mga kapatid ko na lang or to myself. Pag nagagalit si Papa or si Mama, I would hold my peace. Pag kailangang sumagot (dahil tinanong ako), that’s only the time when I would say something. Hence TheGoodGirl monicker. My sisters are in a league of their own. Sila matapang. LOL. 

I have always believed that even if I didn’t do something wrong, or even if I know that I am right, I don’t have the right to talk back to them. Up to this day, I hold on to that belief. To always listen to your parents – not because they are always right. But because they want what’s best for you, and they have more experiences of being wrong.

They also feel that they have to be always busy, or active, or doing something. Walang kapaguran. Even if it means staying up late or doing many things at the same time. Multi-tasking. The TV is on, they’re glued to their phones or tablets. May ka-Viber. Naka-FB. Or naka-headset. The laptop is also on.

And they communicate with you through Facebook, or Twitter, or Instagram. I remember my dad telling my siblings that among us, ako lang daw ang nagsasabi palagi kung asan ako. Even without him asking. And yes, even if I’m already married, ganun pa rin daw ako. I would tell him where I was, wherever I am – through text or a phone call. And how he appreciated that. GoodGirl nga eh. I'm proud to say that even if she and I sometimes fight, my daughter is like me in this aspect. She never forgets to tell us where she is. That's why I trust her that much. 

I am not saying that our generation is better, or that there’s something wrong with theirs (our kids’). Or that we were raised better by the Baby Boomers. It’s just that perhaps, we should adapt to whatever is on hand. This is today. This is Generation Now. Times are changing. Life is a constant change. We live in a dynamic world. And we have to keep up. Or perish.

But what I wish to emphasize is that even if times have changed, and some things are no longer relevant and applicable, there’s nothing wrong in holding on to our core values. Or following what the oldies-but-goodies have taught us and instilled in us. There’s still a lot of goodness in being good, doing good, and believing in all things that are good. Even up to Generation Omega.

~TheGoodGirl