Chasing Happy Yet Again

published September 14, 2024

THE first real problem with being asked to write a regular newspaper column is choosing which photo to use and picking out a name that would appear on one’s box.

I had that dilemma in 2006 when I first started writing for this newspaper. I was thankful it was a step away from getting only older, established, predominantly male columnists.

I settled fast on a photo but agonized over the name. I had two other choices, “No Shrinking Violet” and “In Plain English.” I thought the former would convey that I would not shy away from any topic – my soft-spoken introversion was often mistaken for shyness, and the latter would express my disdain for complex words and too-long, show-offy sentences.

The then young-ish, domestic me eventually chose “Chasing Happy” because I thought it captured where I was at that point and where I was hoping to be. Never mind that some people said it sounded grammatically infirm. It wasn’t. Happy was a noun.

And so I chased Happy for the next 10 years, writing pieces on various topics – government, governance, women, families, communities.

It was a mixed bag, really. And then I felt the need for change, first writing something entitled “Retiring the chase,” explaining why the pursuit of Happy seemed so pointless, and then started calling my column “Long Story Short.”

It was intended to be a tribute to clarity and brevity, but also an expression of my desire to be like LSS, a worm in one’s ear. I’m now using LSS somewhere else and, upon my return to the Standard’s opinion pages, which I edited and wrote for for 16 years, guess what? I’m chasing Happy yet again.

I’ve done some growing up since ‘06.

Today I return with a renewed commitment to continue chasing Happy, now fully aware that, catching it, possessing it, living with it every day is never going to happen. Nor it is the point.

It is Happy’s nature to be elusive. It could, from time to time, allow itself to be frozen. It comes at a moment when all you can do is close your eyes and savor the sensation of things being as they should be.

It could be the sight of the tops of trees, the setting sun, gentle rain that seems to wash away your cares and gives you better perspective, the knowledge that you’ve done a tiny thing that made a difference to someone, the company of persons who matter to you, the sight of a page you have filled with words, even a lazy morning when you can lounge around and not have to do anything.

And all too soon, it is gone.

It is Happy’s nature to be fleeting. When you sense it, prepare yourself for the moment it goes. Expecting it to stay is a recipe for heartbreak. Something is always going to shift.

I won’t be writing anything grave or heavy on this weekend space. I will write about things that are familiar to me, that are important to me, and perhaps these will find resonance among others even if we are complete strangers. I will try to make sense of the things that confound me. It may at first blush appear self-indulgent, but the ultimate hope is that even a few readers could identify and relate with whatever it is I am saying.

This is my Happy, and my hope is that it bears a semblance to yours. It’s a fleeting moment, but both the flash of experience and the lifelong pursuit are worth living the rest of our days.

And so hello again.

FOMO at the fair

published 21 September 2024

https://manilastandard.net/?p=314500089

You go to a book fair like a child at the entrance to a carnival or a toy store. To say you are excited is an understatement. Your cannot wait to present your ticket, go through the door, and step into a magical kingdom.

Your eyes practically pop at the sight of different booths. It is a heaven of sorts — if you dare imagine this is what heaven could be, a happy place. You do not know which way to go first. You want to be everywhere all at once.

The sight of throngs of people, which would normally turn you off, is oddly reassuring. You feel an affinity with those strangers and you wonder whether they feel the same way that you do. You are happy that contrary to expectations in this digital age, many are finding, or returning to, the printed page. There is hope!

You see children’s books and you are happy that today’s young readers have more at their disposal. An image flashes: You reading to your imaginary future grandchildren. That won’t be for a while, but it’s a nice thought, anyway.

At the booths of the publishing houses, the sight of the titles lures you. Pick me, one seems to say. But the other one looks good, too. Oh, wait – this is one you’ve been wanting to read for a while. Why not both or all? You remind yourself you have to stick to a budget.

You see the authors signing books and obliging your request for a selfie. These are names you just read about, and read, these greats, and they are there in the flesh, those people who have taken you places in your mind or given you some precious insight.

On the way home, you carry your precious haul on your lap. You can’t wait to open the package, smell the books, cover them as though you were putting a blanket on a sleeping beloved, organize them on your shelves, and start reading.

I went to three of these last year.

***

This year, for some personal reason, I missed the fair.

I was despondent for days, so I came up with numerous reasons to snap out of the sad spell.

Reasons like, if I had gone, I would have felt tired and dizzy, and then my weekend would have slipped.

If I had gone, I would not have been able to stick to the budget I had set for myself. There were other bills to pay and certainly, shopping for books is a luxury – a want rather than a need.

Seeing all those published writers would have also reminded me that I still want to do more with my life and need to work harder. Pressure!

More books, when there are plenty that I have started but not yet finished, and when there are purchases from previous shopping trips that I have not even actually begun reading yet? A friend once chided me for not even having gone past the foreword of a book I had said I’d long wanted to possess. Certainly, visiting the fair would have added to all that unfinished business.

Also, I’m running out of shelf space. The books would sit idly, and accumulate dust. I get really bad allergies from dust. And did I not say I wanted to be a minimalist?

Finally, I don’t really have time to catch up on my reading. Maybe when I’m older. Maybe when I retire. Maybe when there is less pressure to earn a living.

***

Who am I kidding? It’s all sour grapes. These arguments are ridiculous, if not downright wrong.

Going to the fair and the sight of so many people would have tired me out — but I could always rest. I could even have dozed off on the ride home. It’s a weekend acivity I should not have missed for the world.

I would have been able to stick to my budget, and even if I failed, I could always take on extra writing, editing, or translating gigs to fill the gap. It’s basic economics: when resources are limited, scrimp on other things to give way to what is more important.

I would have basked in the presence of other writers and would have been inspired to write just a bit more, just a bit more often, and a lot better. I would have strengthened my resolve to set aside regular reading and writing time, no matter the material demands of life.

What’s your wellspring?

published 28 September 2024

https://manilastandard.net/?p=314503351

I was recently in a Zoom conversation where we were asked to talk about the sources of our inspiration. The assumption is, we don’t just work and read and write all the time. There’s got to be a life outside all of that, something that gives us interesting things to say and a perspective through which we view everything else.

My hands went cold as my mind went blank.

My companions described a rich life outside what we were doing: music, sports, personal collections, volunteer work. I do different kinds of writing, I ventured. I am able to talk to different kinds of people for various writing or editing projects.

Yes, but that’s still work. Anything else?

I racked my brain to say something that was cool and interesting but also true. Is my life so pathetic that I can’t think of anything else I do outside of work? Finally I said, I walk. And play pingpong.

That night before going to sleep I thought about my answer and cringed. Seriously, walking? Everybody walks. It’s just putting one foot in front of the other. Even toddlers walk!

What I wanted to say was that a few months ago I began the habit of walking around the UP academic oval several times a week, in the early morning or late afternoon, as a way of staying healthy. I soon realized that it provided benefits beyond the physical. I was able to behold sunrises or sunsets. These happen every day but we are often too busy to stop and experience them.

But the bigger benefit to walking is the clarity it gives the walker. One thinks about issues, challenges, conflicts, and even aspirations. Reflects on a particular life episode. Recalls something read or watched or heard. Plans and outlines the next steps toward a goal. Come up with ideas on things to write about in whatever form. I return from a walk, body tired but mind bursting.

It’s almost a bonus to rack up several thousand steps.

Admittedly these rainy days I am no longer as consistent as I was during the summer. And then of course classes started and work demands piled up and all the other excuses weren’t too far behind. It’s always a target to make time for it.

I also answered that I played a sport. Sure, I learned to play table tennis in college for PE. Fast forward to many years later, during the pandemic, and the good fortune of our building administration putting up a pingpong table in one of the conference rooms for its residents. I took turns playing with my sons who were then in their late teens/ mid-20s. It was a nice way to pass the days when we were all meant to stay within the confines of the home.

But mobility restrictions have since eased, the boys are busy, such that we only seldom play. The table is folded away at the side of the conference room, which is now being actually used again for real meetings. So, no — not too much pingpong, either.

It’s typical of me to come up with witty or interesting things to utter long after the moment for saying them has passed.

Indeed much of what I write about springs from the work I do – teaching, talking to and observing people, reading the news, pondering what it means to different individuals. I am lucky that this is something I actually like. I guess this is why outside of this I am usually too exhausted to do much else. For recreation, I’m usually happy watching things, conversing with equally low-maintenance people, putting my personal space in order, introspecting, replenishing.

It took a while to stop wondering whether having a hyperactive inner world limited any possibilities for me. But we are who we are, right, and didn’t Rilke write, “And even if you were in some prison, the walls of which let none of the sounds of the world come to your senses, would you not then still have your childhood, that precious, kingly possession, that treasure-house of memories?”

Oh I’d love to do some volunteer work much later, perhaps when the pressure to earn eases. For today, — and I’m not in any sort of prison – there remains an inexhaustible amount of things to make sense of and write about. The bigger challenge is actually finding the time to sit down and unpack away.

adellechua@gmail.com

Blog Post Title Four

It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.

Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.