In the latter parts of June, I started learning to go out of my way.

Most of the time, I’m in my way, so I have to shove myself aside to make way for something else. I didn’t do much for others; nothing that could change the way our society embraces our potty-mouthed leader like he was some sort of a genius, or a god. Nothing that could even change the way poor people are being treated just because they are less privileged. But I did started doing a tiny thing that could change my tiny family in our new church. Because things have to be done. And sometimes, walking against the flow calls for attention.

This year, at the unlined pages at the back of my diary, I started drawing my milestones. If you’ll read them, they’re not very much, but I could tell you I’m proud of them.

  • First off, I finished a good revision of H&S. It’s good, I tell you. Because I’m in that part where people can read my MS and I will not wither to a small, tiny piece.
  • Second, I have a full request. I can’t stop gushing about this because the agent who asked for my work is all for diversity!
  • Second-and-a-half, I think I did something wrong when I submitted the revised version.
  • Third, H&S has a Tagalog song. It’s called Himig. It could actually be the title of the book. I think it will sound lovely on a piano arrangement. Because, well, that’s why I wrote this song for.
  • Fourth, would you believe a Facebook add would make me happy? Even though it was someone selling something? But that someone is a girl who loved God. And He loves her back, magnanimously.
  • Fifth, I have a new bag because I have to give away the former one. Sometimes, I just marvel at how God makes things work because He has foreseen it all.
  • Sixth, the two other stuff I kept unused in my closet were finally used. Hint: the three of them are all black.
  • Seventh, would you believe I’d get to Ulang, San Rafael, then head back to Guiguinto in a day? I could tell you that in that day, I rode so many jeepneys and recognized the good in many faces who smiled back at me. Also, a lot of babies crying.
  • Eight, I got my license. By the grace of God, I got my license. Well, just the paper; the plastic card is another thing.

There’s probably more than those; I couldn’t list all the small things, but I am convinced that I am heading to becoming that person that I like.

This month, I start to balance the feelings between wanting to see something done and wanting to do something. It’s the composition of being kind yet unbothered.

I’m part of the plan. The plan is not all about me.

On the last Friday of the month, I got to watch My Neighbor Totoro, in Disney channel, no less. Nostalgia is like a bittersweet medicine. It heals you. It brings you back to your feet.

Mind you, I’m part of the kids of the 80s.

I realized something. We make and create and consume things, the same things that bruise the earth and punch a hole in our pockets. I’m living in the generation of “just for the sake of having.” There’s an oversupply of everything: information, choices, affirmations. And there’s less of the more important ones: patience, love, faith, peace, joy. Everything feels so artificial and visual, and we are all entertained by the facade of it all that we hardly break into the wrapper and see how empty these things are inside.

After writing so many articles about saving the environment, I want to pitch my tent in that space where people make better, sometimes lesser, choices. I want to be a door-holder to the next generation with a leaf on my hair, telling them there’s more to life than arguing about what “seems” right, the thoughts that instantly bloat in your head, and the names you give to the ones which never had, because they never existed in the first place. The world is becoming more delinquent, spinning its heels faster to its own demise, but I’m here. I’m observing from this watchtower. I’m writing the words for The Cause. And I’m waiting for sunrise. Because sunrise will come.