Highway to Happy

I am probably one of the most average persons you’ll ever meet. I’m the girl who hides behind the biggest smile, who wears vibrant colored clothing for cover ups and whose name you can put under the word happy in the dictionary.

I am probably one of the happiest people alive. Airdrop me wherever in this planet and I’ll likely have enough happiness for sharing. Yes, I’m one of the not so many people who’ll giddily clap their hands even before you get to the end of ‘When you’re happy and you know it clap your hands’.

In a word, I am happy. And it’s brought about by decisions I have made in the past. I can sleep soundly at night knowing that at the core of every choice is what my heart desires, what gives me fulfillment and a deeper sense of joy.

But now I think I kind of miss that shallow, limited, fleeting, even foolish, kind of joy.

I miss feeling young and carefree and invincible. I miss spending an entire day without minding what to do tomorrow or how today affects tomorrow. I miss chasing after joy, even though I know it won’t translate to happiness. Because I guess I have found enough happiness at this point in my life, now I’m just craving for joy.

In the past years, I’m guilty of taking life too seriously, although I must say I wouldn’t have it any other way. But now I’m starting over. I’m back to being the naïve girl who is yet to learn and mature in her new-found field. I am young, carefree and invincible; and in the days to come, I’ll find joy- the shallow, limited, fleeting, foolish kind of joy.

It is very evident, in my twitter updates, a handful of blog posts and random text rants to friends how undeniably draining this job of mine is. Then again, it is also very evident, in my twitter updates, a handful of blog posts and random texts to friends how, beyond a doubt, I value and find irreplaceable fulfillment in my job. I’ve gotten used to office overnights and weekend overtimes, impossible deadlines and stressful follow-ups, overflowing client mails and never-ending tasks. Unfortunately, and this breaks my heart, the boyfriend hasn’t, yet.

Last Friday, he worked until 5 in the morning. Then, he reported back to work around lunch time, and was able to leave the office at 4 am the following day. I was cheering him up through text messages the entire time. And even though his replies were in high spirits, I knew he was terribly exhausted and only covering up so I wouldn’t worry. I knew there wasn’t anything I could do for him that time. So instead of bugging him non-stop, I thought of a grand plan on how I can, in a small way, reward him for being so hardworking. Two words came to mind.

I am not a big fan of action movies. The deafening sound effects give me headaches and the roaring shotguns make me palpitate. It is not, at all, entertaining for me, especially on the big screen. We’ve been together for more than six years and I believe we’ve watched, like what, 3 action movies. Although that’s not saying too much. We were never movie buffs, anyway. But during those times we made trips to a movie house, he would always let me pick which movie. And on random occasions I let him do the picking, he would intentionally decide upon a romantic comedy film, even a chic flick. He is very much aware I have low tolerance for massive explosions and dead, gory bodies magnified by the huge screen right in my face.

But what are migraine and palpitation compared to the boyfriend’s happiness? NOT A THING.

Surprisingly, I liked the movie. My heart still skipped a beat during complicated action sequences and visions of lifeless, bloody soldiers shook me a bit. But he held my hand the entire time and even embraced me on scenes I would rather not describe. I guess in the end, it was much more of a treat for myself than the boyfriend. =)



*i love you. another action movie date?*

Ever since that heavenly book-shopping spree with the boyfriend, I’ve been religiously allotting some precious time on weekends to cuddle up with a lovely book and a cup of yummy hot chocolate. Jus t about a month had passed and I’m currently on my fourth book. Not bad, right? Although, I must confess I sort of got sidetracked this recent weekend. To my defense, I worked until the morning of Saturday and basically slept through the rest of it. On Sunday, I opted to move back to having my “lazy day”, underneath the sheets from sunrise to sunset, surfing through cable channels, even though I was fully aware nothing was worth watching. Not even that boxing match.

Monday came and I flipped not a single page of my Nicholas Sparks. I found myself starting the week without the usual enthusiasm. I was dragging myself, from one excel sheet to another. I wasn’t being productive, although I faked being so. But I figured how draining it was, not to mention frustrating, to stare in my almost-finished report for hours, pretending to be polishing it, when my mind was wandering somewhere outside our office window.

To put it precisely, my mind was wandering somewhere into the next chapter of The Lucky One.


When I got home Monday night, I quickly changed into my comfortable PJs, unplugged the television and settled in my reading spot on the bed. I grabbed a book placed on top of a chaotic pile in my bedside table and started to flip the page.

I was in my most comfortable state, laughing with the characters, crying in spite of myself and savoring the pages while falling in love with every perfectly written phrase. Reading is my favorite escape. And on nights like this one, I wish it would just be my world.

It was a Thank- God- its- Friday morning. I got to my client’s office way earlier than their actual employees show up at work and I found myself asking that question. Of course it didn’t come out of nowhere. It was provoked by an almost sleepless night due to mulling over taking on another challenge, career-wise.

Fearless- majority will associate the word to something dangerous, something done out of impulse, something that takes a few seconds but will stick to you for a lifetime; almost perfectly fitting to what I am deciding on right now, only in a deeper sense of dangerous, deeper than being childishly impulsive and something that will take longer, much longer than a few seconds, but will surely be attached (literally) to my name for a lifetime.

Yesterday, a friend happened to discuss her plans of pursuing it. And after a shuttle ride home, I am now in her shoes, deciding on whether it will be worth it and whether, oh God here I go again, I am actually capable of doing it.

Truth be told, I am not interested just because of the title or the rewards I will reap after gaining that title. For the most part, I am really, truly thirsty for a new challenge and I believe merely waiting for a year until I am qualified to take the MBA is not the grandest plan for a bright near-future.

Do I still remember what fearless felt like? When was the last time I actually took a risk and turned my back on several insecurities that have been weighing me down since God knows when? Honestly, I do remember that day, very precisely. But the roller-coaster of emotions? No, I don’t think so.

But I want to. I think I deserve to. Because way past the indescribable feeling is fulfillment that goes over and above what a certificate can ever echo. So maybe, I’ll muster enough confidence and allow myself one more whoop in the roller-coaster of life. And I’ll remember what fearless felt like. Oh, and I will love what fearless feels like.

Occasion after occasion, my boyfriend never fails to shower me with gifts that would melt any girl’s heart. Whether it is something terribly expensive that I would shrink in shame even just upon seeing the paper bag, thinking I don’t deserve it, or just anything extremely sentimental that took much effort to be found, he always, always hit the bull’s eye. It’s as if he knows what I’ve been secretly wishing for all this years.

The recent Valentine’s Day was a perfect example.

In lieu of the normal classy box holding a precious gift inside, he treated me to an unforgettable experience. His present was a shopping spree- book shopping spree, to be exact- in one of my ultimate happy places, Fullybooked. You can just imagine the smile on my face that day; from ear to ear, flashing my so highschool braces. Had it been a shopping spree for shoes, clothes, bags or any other material thing, I would have felt uncomfortable. I never allowed him to buy stuff for me during our shopping dates, though he practically offers, even insists at times. But books; it was as if there’s an unwritten rule stating that acquiring books is not considered worldly. I didn’t feel embarrassed upon accepting it. Completely opposite to how I felt whenever he proposes on paying for other things, I felt excited, giddy like a schoolgirl.

The Nerdiest Couple in Town

We spent the entire afternoon going over the four-story bookstore, rack by rack, as if trying to find the most precious jewel in treasureland. I picked book after book, reading the synopsis, even though most of the time the deciding factors are the author and the title, it didn’t matter; I just read as much synopsis as I can.

Do you have those moments when you felt completely nothing but pure bliss? No anxiety and weariness, not even fulfillment. Just pure and untainted happiness you get from doing something you love, plus having the chance to experience it with your favorite person is the ultimate bonus. *sigh* It was like I died and went to heaven.

I was a certified bookwork. Well, I still am, but work kind of gets in the way all the time. That afternoon, he allowed me to indulge in my ultimate fetish and I love him for it, along with gazillion other things.

It was a fairytale, minus the prince, because that day he was my fairy godmother, err, fairy godboyfriend?. = )