#frankly i just want to kms but if i kms then those two idiots will self combust and then abusive reltive will come in and make it worse

[playingplayer2]

Ah yes siblings!

The ones who look at your un-safe housing with a volatile relative who HAS hurt us before but we can't yet afford to move out and goes, "mm yeah I'll do [thing that'll send said relative into an angry rage when discovered]. Yeah, in fact I'LL DO IT TWICE. surely this will have zero consequences!"

Anywayssss

I'm terrified now. Thank you, oh older sibling without a single ounce of self preservation.

I'll be shaking in my slippers while I do all the things in public spaces now... Can't wait to cook and clean and do laundry with a menacing threat at my back!

Woohoo wheeeeee huzzah

[k1ranishf4]

It is 8am, I haven’t slept at all and most likely have all qualifications needed to be declared clinically insane.

BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK MAN??!,!!?!,!,!,!, KXKKSOZLSKXJDLZKSNICUEJSPMWOZHC

I’M GONNA FUCKING KMS AT THIS POINT

*GOOD OMENS 2 SPOILERS BELOW*

It all started so nicely; the first 30 seconds or so literally showed us Crowley when he was still an angel, happily creating the stars and the galaxy and being so proud of his work to the point where he couldn’t even stop smiling like an idiot.

And Aziraphale was with him!! Aziraphale, who fell in love with Crowley even before Earth itself was created; Aziraphale, who couldn’t take his eyes off of Crowley for even just one second while the other was rambling about the stars.

It just got better and sweeter after that, I literally couldn’t stop thinking about how they definitely seem like an old married couple to bystanders, especially whenever they bicker back and forth!

Not to mention their familiarity. You could tell back in season one that those two have known each other for a really really long time and it just got more obvious with this season.

Their mutual pining was also painfully obvious, as always, but this time it really punched me in the guts. I kept coming back to tumblr every now and then when I needed a giggling-and-kicking feet-break while watching and obviously saw a few posts and gifs. Which didn’t exactly help my kicked-puppy-phase. I’ll come back to this later.

Anyway, I’m also hyperventilating about the “One cast-out Prince of Heaven was already bad enough” or something along those lines and was like “ARE THEY INDIRECTLY CONFIRMING THAT CROWLEY WAS THE ARCHANGEL RAPHAEL BEFORE HE FELL???” Because the way I see it, the answer seems to be yes.

Muriel basically said “I don’t have the clearance to show you these files, I’m really sorry” and Crowley just— the fact that the files can only be accessed by angels of higher status tells enough for us to know, but then again, I could be reading way too much into it and all of that could be something else entirely (which I highly doubt, but we saw that literally anything can happen).

Another thing that I absolutely loved was Saraquael’s floating wheelchair. It looked so cool, to be honest. I also liked that they decided to have a disabled angel, instead of going with “yeah, they’re all at peak physical performance”.

Coming back to the Idiots in Love, I honestly thought that it was hilarious of them to stick their noses into other people’s love lives, yet they’re blind/mute/deaf/whatever you want to call it when it comes to the both of them. Loved how two mere humans had to talk sense to a literal demon.

The Kiss. Oh, the Kiss. That broke me. I was worried at first when Aziraphale came back to the bookshop after his little walk and talk with Metatron and was actually shocked to find out that my anxious worry was right. Angel comes back with a two meters wide smile plastered on his face and suddenly starts talking about Heaven again.

That definitely hurt Crowley on an indescribable level. Imagine most of the current problems in your life have been solved again, you’re daydreaming about a lovely dinner at the Ritz with the love of your life and have (some of) your precious, peaceful and fragile existence back when suddenly all of your hopes and dreams get crushed by the very person that you love because they can’t help Heaven’s brainwashing and their own righteousness.

Imagine them happily talking about the very place that you were cast out of just for daring to question or even make suggestions for God’s Great Plan. Yup, definitely sucked for Crowley. I believe that in that moment, when he kissed Aziraphale, he was hoping to finally open the angel’s eyes and make him see and understand what Crowley truly meant.

He just wanted to be away from everyone and everything and have his love by his side, just like he always had been.

But Aziraphale didn’t—couldn’t!— understand that. He was losing his faith and frankly, I still think he does, but deep down, there’s this something in him that sees the good in everyone. Especially Heaven, because God and the angels are supposed to be the good guys here! Hell is obviously bad and evil, and so are demons, then Heaven must’ve been better!

He’s loved Crowley for as long as Crowley has loved him, but in that moment, he saw his chance to possibly make a change and had to take it. He doubted this decision, obviously!! But he also knew that change was desperately needed, even though he seemed to regret his choices and even considered just going back to Crowley.

Crowley, on the other hand, expected Aziraphale to immediately turn down the offer and when it was clear that he hadn’t, he tried to convince Aziraphale of just calling everything off. He waited outside by his car, because Aziraphale always came back after arguments like this. He came back when Crowley had asked for holy water, despite being against it. He came back when Crowley had offered to run away together multiple times during Armageddon. He always returned to Crowley despite his own opinions and Crowley thought that this might also be just like those times.

Except it wasn’t. He got another “I forgive you” and watched the most important person to him step into the elevator to Heaven. The bookshop was in the hands of a stranger and their countless ‘dates’ became just another thing in the past.

He was lonely again, just like he had been when he had fallen and this time, there didn’t seem to be a solution to his loneliness.

It was absolutely fulfilling to see Beelzebub and Gabriel get together and be happy and I was desperately hoping that we’d see the same with Aziraphale and Crowley, but it was just wishful thinking.

At this point, I think that Neil Gaiman just took everything he saw on Tumblr and Twitter and said “let’s put all of this into the second season, but with extra angst in the ending.”

Which is incredible!! But it still hurt my soul and I’m gonna be thinking about this until we hopefully get a season 3.

It’s 9am now, I’ve been typing this for an whole hour and am incapable of forming any coherent thoughts. If something else should come to my mind, I’ll post it after finally catching some Zs.

[entergamingxp]

Pro Cycling Manager 2020 – The Waiting Game

June 4, 2020 11:00 AM EST

How far will one man go to manage the male, digital version of his wife to Tour de France glory in Pro Cycling Manager 2020?

Before we begin, it’s important to make clear that I do not care about nor understand professional cycling. I have, quite literally, never watched a race in my life and am the last person you should be coming to if you’re looking for a review for Pro Cycling Manager 2020. Or any cycling game, for that matter.

However, my wife watches the Tour de France every year with her dad and they take part in local races relatively often. She’s also bad-to-mediocre at video games. She’ll dispute that, but it’s a fact. And so, I decided to put our two brains together and see if we could somehow win the virtual Tour de France. Going in, I felt I had some idea of what was going to happen. I’ve played quite a bit of games like Football Manager and Total Extreme Wrestling. My management experience mixed with my wife’s knowledge was sure to be a winning combo.

At least, that’s what I hoped.

So, this isn’t a review of Pro Cycling Manager 2020. This is one man’s journey to create the male version of his wife and lead her to virtual glory in the greatest cycling race known to man.

Season 1 – What Have I Gotten Myself Into

The first thing I’m greeted with is choosing what type of racer we’ll be building. Honestly, I was hoping for something a little more granular. We were totally planning to go out to the local park and time her cycling to give our racer the most accurate starting stats possible. Heck, my wife even did something she calls “math” to figure out how tall the racer should be in comparison to her. It looked like wizardry to me, but she’s a computer engineer, so I assume she knows what she’s doing.

Anyway, Amos Frech was quickly created as the world’s next great “Stage Racer.” I don’t know what that means, but it sounded better than “Northern Classic” or whatever “Baroudeur” is. Frankly, it seemed like it would only be a matter of time before we could join my wife’s favorite team, Team INEOS. I’m told that’s “where the good ones are from.”

In our first few races, I immediately started to realize I might’ve bitten off more than I can chew. In games like Football Manager, you don’t directly control the on-field action. Instead, you’re setting up tactics and choosing the players to execute on your plans. Maybe the team mode on Pro Cycling Manager is more like this, but in the Pro Cyclist mode, you’re in complete control.

With zero understanding of how the sport works or what any of the terms mean, this feels like one of those nightmares where you wake up in your old high school and are about to have a test that you didn’t study for. And, for some reason, you’re naked.

In our first race, I see an option for something called infinite relay. As far as I know, this could mean your racer hops off the bike to have a cup of tea or he instantly wins the race. It could mean anything and I would believe you. That said, it is, by far, the coolest-sounding option, so, being an idiot who loves action, this becomes my go-to maneuver.

It seems to work decently well. I mean, we’re not winning any races, but we aren’t in last either. Slowly, I start to get objectives in races. Most of these tell me to “get in a breakaway for 100 km.” I read this as “be in first place for two-thirds of the race.” At our current skill level, that’s impossible, so I just ignore them.

By some miracle, I’m able to win a few races during the season. But the most notable thing to happen is seeing a cyclist get ran over by a pacer car. Most of the time you just phase through them and all the other cyclists. However, in one race, he just blows right through him and I get a notification that the racer has “withdrawn.” But we all know they left out “from this mortal coil” at the end of that notification.

We end the first season in one of, what I assume is, the bigger races in our division. I assume this because members of Team INEOS are here. My wife’s favorite dude Chris Froome is, unsurprisingly, not one of them. However, I go for a good showing in the hopes that these men will tell their senpai tales of Amos Frech’s dominance and get us a spot on the team.

Amos gets 31st and we’re on to season two.

Season 2 – Lesson From The Past

Heading into season two, I start to think about how my dad must have felt when he realized he had a soccer-playing child. My old man had probably never even seen a soccer ball before randomly signing me up for the U4 league. However, he quickly realized that his abnormally tall three-year-old was going to be half-decent at this weird British sport.

Much like three-year-old me, Amos is unquestionably skilled. He is one of the best in the world already at climbing mountains and whatever “prologue” is. However, I don’t understand the strategy of the game and cannot consistently guide him to victory.

Well, just like my dad once picked up a book on how to play soccer, I too will pursue knowledge. And so, I do the modern-day equivalent of reading and watch some YouTube tutorials. I know now what a breakaway is and somewhat understand how to correctly set myself up for success in races. It’s time to finally turn that corner and become the racer we’re meant to be.

However, there’s a problem. See, as I mentioned above, Pro Cycling Manager isn’t a “set it and forget it” kind of game. If Football Manager is the Easy-Bake Oven style of management sims, Pro Cycling Manager is more like working in a high-class restaurant that requires everything to be perfect.

Except, in this analogy, nobody comes to your restaurant. So, on your eight-hour shift, you’re maybe doing ten minutes of actual work. The rest of the time you’re just fiddling with your cell phone, watching the world burn on Twitter. While that ten minutes of actual cooking is pure bliss, the rest of the time is something between boring and distressing because you’re realizing you could be doing something much better with your time.

Pro Cycling Manager requires you to watch entire races where you don’t really have to do anything until the last 20 kilometers of a race. Sure, you can speed it up, but it’s still mostly boring. And even when you’re outside of the races, you’re just staring at the screen watching all the other races sim.

Honestly, Steam says I’ve played Pro Cycling Manager for roughly 40 hours now, but realistically, I’ve probably only “played” the game for four or five of those hours. For the most part, I’m just sitting around waiting to do something.

At this point, it’s not a question of “can Amos win the Tour de France?” It’s a question of “can I mentally stay engaged long enough?” Amos’ body is willing, but my brain? Not so much.

So, sure, Amos pulls out all the stops and wins three smaller tours in his second season. He even moves up into the next division and joins a more prestigious team. I just don’t know if I’ll be able to see out the final victory.

Season 3 – The One That Breaks Me

I tried everybody. I really did. There’s just only so much sitting and staring at men riding bicycles at hyper-speed that one man can take. Sure, Amos is quickly moving toward a spot in the Tour de France, but this third season has broken down my will to continue. What started as a fun lark has become borderline soul-crushing. It’s just so much waiting.

To be clear, I’m not saying Pro Cycling Manager 2020 is bad. If you like cycling and want to play a management sim, this is probably the best way to do that. Granted, I’m far from an expert, so what do I know?

It’s also worth noting again that I only played the Pro Cyclist mode. In that mode, you don’t have complete control of your team. Meaning it was very difficult to set up sprint trains (see, I learned something!) at the end of races. It also meant that there was no way for me to use my other cyclists to pick up points in other ways besides winning races. So, playing in that mode could easily mitigate my boredom. I’ll just never know if that’s the case.

So, no, Amos Frech will never become the best cyclist in the world. And yes, I can’t remember playing a more consistently boring game than Pro Cycling Manager 2020. However, until it just got to be too much, I’ve never had so much fun playing something so tedious. If that’s not a ringing endorsement from someone who literally couldn’t care less about cycling, then I don’t know what is.

June 4, 2020 11:00 AM EST

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/06/pro-cycling-manager-2020-the-waiting-game/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=pro-cycling-manager-2020-the-waiting-game

[nomadmanager]

What Happened To Jen Horn? : The Year And A Half That Has Passed - A 2016 Review (and 2017 so far)

For a long time, I stopped writing.  I stopped writing for me. 

Apart from my annual review/preview + letter to self, there was not much other writing I’ve done for personal release (as people did back in the Livejournal days, for those of you old enough to know it) in the past 4-5 years. And I’m months overdue on this year’s letter to self and my 2016-2017 review/preview. 

What’s held me back all this time (apart from the excuse we like to tell ourselves that we’re busy, etc.) is that I was avoiding writing things down, largely because I was afraid to admit to myself of how little I had accomplished of the goals I had set for myself in 2016, and furthermore, how little I knew of what I wanted to happen in 2017. I was hiding from the world because I didn’t want to have to admit failure or be forced to aspire to do more merely because of social pressure (even when that was imagined).

About a week ago, I started a half-assed effort of writing again. I wrote word vomit that I kept to myself, because I feared judgment from those who might read my words. I would be exposing my private, personal thoughts that I felt have nothing to do with the work I do, and I felt it would do little to help others in the world. I was still hiding.

But then, I’ve always felt and written differently when I imagined at least one another person reading my words, so I thought it was still essential that I post this publicly. And who knows, maybe you can relate to it a little bit and find a nugget or two to be useful in your own life. 

And to give myself added courage, I reminded myself: 

“Jen, this is for your personal blog. Who cares what other people think? You’re afraid they’ll judge you because you were fearless enough to put your honest pain, joy, fears and dreams (or lack thereof) out there for their possible consumption? Then they have a problem, not you. This is your space. Use it for your catharsis if you wish. There are plenty of other places in cyberspace where they can choose to spend their time. If they don’t like your self-indulgent whining or whatever, and yet they continue on reading, then they’re the idiots, aren’t they?” 

And so, here we are. You may go, or you may stay. 

If you choose to stay, prepare for a looooot of possibly incoherent word vomit about what’s been up with Jen Horn (though I tried to organize the following 4,000 words a bit) and a looooot of my personal story and feelings. If you go, ciao. 

THE YEAR (AND A HALF) THAT HAS PASSED ^ That being considered, this post is still pretty short. 

So much has happened since the beginning of 2016, and simultaneously, it also seems I was stuck in certain aspects of my life. If you’ve wondered what’s been happening with Jen Horn lately, here it is. 

For a good part of the past year and a half, I spent it wavering, doubting what I ought to do next with Muni, and my life in general. It was obvious to me that I remained lost in figuring out the right business model to keep running it sustainably without sacrificing values of sustainability and social good. It was also clear to me that I was losing the steam I once had in the earlier stages of Muni – back when it was an informal movement, up to its earlier stages as a formal institution. 

ACT 1: GERMAN WINTER & MANILA SPRING (CLEANING) 

The DO (and Don’t) School + Dealing with Cancer 

I had joined The DO School’s Entrepreneurship for Good program in January 2016 in Berlin with the hopes to get clarity and growth for Muni. Instead, the unintended effect of it making me reassess things, is that it made me cast greater doubt in Muni and in my desire and motivation to continue with the status quo vs. going off to start something anew. 

While I was in Berlin, in February, about a week after my birthday, I found out my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. I tried to be there for my mom, even as I was 10,000 km away. More importantly, I tried talking to my dad, so that he could support her vs. stress her out, because I do know how they can get, especially when they don’t see eye to eye and want to impose their own ways on the other. 

Upon my return to Manila from Berlin in March, I dove right into family + work -- with my mother’s dilemma on how to deal with her cancer + MUNI Market 2016 already pre-scheduled to happen in Nuvali in May. 

If you were in my wormy brain in late 2015, then you’ll know I had already been rethinking Muni back then. So by this time in 2016, I was becoming increasingly fatigued by the thought of the work, wanted a more full time team but couldn’t afford it (nor commit to affording it), and I missed creating and traveling and doing things for me. And frankly, my mom’s situation made me rethink my own life and what I valued while I was trying to help her realize what brought her meaning in her life.

Healing of the body (which we did explore with several doctors) has a lot to do with healing the mind and heart, through meditation and such (not as popular with most doctors, if not done alongside other conventional means), and I was exploring some of that with her from April to June with various meditation apps, books, checking out some local meditation classes or retreats. She wasn’t into all of that, save for the occasional Headspace session, but I tried to lighten her psychological-emotional burden or stress when I could, even in other ways like just talking (or listening) to her.

On Firing Up Motivation vs. Being A Vegetable

Shortly after the Muni Market concluded on May 21, we also organized a Muni Meetup on Motivation on June 9, to revitalize demotivated dreamers and doers who we believed should still have the courage to go on. 

The truth is, it was as much for myself as it was for the Muni community. And even when we got raving feedback about how it encouraged and inspired attendees to act boldly and soldier on, it did not seem enough to lift my own spirits. I felt like I lacked the motivation to go on and I didn’t know how to gain it back. I had called for a planning meeting with my core team after that meetup. However, instead of discussing next steps, I wound up breaking down in unexpected tears. I asked what would happen to Muni without me? Would they soldier on? And is it even really valuable or was I just being self-important?

For two weeks in June 2016, I was pretty much a vegetable. I went on ridiculous Netflix binges, until I finally resolved to get my shit together. I de-cluttered my physical and mental spaces; sold more of my unwanted / unneeded belongings; booked myself in a Vipassana meditation retreat in August (because ironically, while exploring meditation more for my mom, I found that I was revisiting it more for me too), all to help me really reassess what I valued.

ACT 2: SPANISH SUMMER 

Eat, Pray, Love (in 17 days, with parents – lol)

The 10th to the 27th of July 2016 would also find me in a surprise trip to Europe, a 17-day whirlwind trip through some parts of Spain (Barcelona, Madrid, Seville), France (Lourdes) and Portugal (Lisbon, Fatima) with my parents. They had been initially scheduled to go with other friends in March, but had to postpone the trip when they found out about my mom’s diagnosis. 

 Worried about traveling alone with my dad, my mom wanted a younger and more travel-savvy person to accompany them (since they were no longer traveling with their other friends), and I suddenly found myself in the continent again. It was not a trip I was supposed to be on. And while the thought of going around Europe (this time on holiday) was appealing, I was also worried about extended travel with my parents given our history of stressful family trips. 

Somehow, we survived each other. It was a relatively stress-free family trip considering the duration of the trip, unfamiliarity with the countries, and constant moving around. It was actually really good. 

The Day I Had For Me 

In the days leading up to the end of the trip though, I felt myself getting antsier, not because of parental squabbles, but more of just me wanting some of my own time away from them during this trip. 

And so, on day 15, I managed to find a long stretch of alone time, and meet someone (let’s call him L) who would largely shape the year to come. I’ll spare you the cheesy details, suffice it to say, it was a connection that I had never had before. And we were determined to see each other again somehow. Maybe the next summer, who knew? 

More Days I Made For Me 

On the 27th of July, I left Spain, and by August 3, I would finally push through with a 10-day Vipassana Meditation Retreat, after 4 years of putting it off. 

I had hoped I would get me more balance, clarity on Muni and what I want to do with my life. What I emerged clear about was that I wanted to go back to Europe before the year was over. If the connection I made with L was still present (or stronger). It was. And so I made plans to. 

Not long after I had gotten out of Vipassana (a few days after), he also paid me a surprise visit in the Philippines for a week. It was possibly one of the happiest times of my life. 

“I think anybody who falls in love is a freak. It’s a crazy thing to do. It’s kind of like a form of socially accepted insanity.” – Amy, Her (2013) 

And so, I told my closest friends and my Muni team about our story, and my intention to go see him for a couple of months. They were supportive of the insane pursuit of love, and agreed to hold the fort from November 1 to January 11, as we only had one scheduled meetup for December. 

I kept the reasons for my trip from majority of the population secret because I still find it mildly cringe-worthy that I, Jen Horn, strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man per se and has her own thing going for her, would travel that far, and essentially put her life on hold for a couple of months for a boy, well, a man, but you know, a boy. 

But it was the only thing that made sense in life at the time. 

From August to October 2016, I would then run a few more events for Muni (our scheduled workshop series) and do some marketing/event consultancy, while also selling more stuff on Carousell to augment my income and declutter at the same time, and spending as much time with family as I could. 

ACT 3: ITALIAN FALL 

A Life Without Muni 

For a long time (read: about a decade, give or take – so yeah, a long-ish time), I’ve gone back and forth between with the desire to live for something greater than myself, and the desire to live according to my whims and desires, or whatever I thought they could be, even if it was: “to get by through life with as little effort as possible”. 

To create something greater than one’s self requires commitment, something I wasn’t sure I still wanted to give by the time I had my mini-meltdown in June, as I felt like maybe I wanted to do different things already. They (motivational speakers, life coaches, and peddlers of The Secret) say we can attain what we want for as long as we have clarity, or a solid purpose. I wasn’t sure if I wanted the same things I thought I wanted before. 

In 2012, when I had my pre-Muni quarter life crisis, I thought I had found it when I came up with Muni. I wanted to be a brainwasher for the good of the planet. I wanted to share what accessible solutions were out there so regular folks could shop, eat, travel and live more sustainably by creating content, a community, and a gathering similar to what the Muni Market has become today. 

I wanted to connect like-minded individuals, and start conversations that paved the way for paradigm shifts and an empowered way of thinking of our impact, in spite of the bleak state of the planet. I wanted people to rethink their preconceptions, speech, habits and behaviors, and in turn, influence others to take up more conscious choices as well. 

That was good enough for me.

It would seem that I had more or less accomplished what I sought to do with Muni (though it didn’t help that I didn’t set quantifiable goals from the beginning), but generally, I felt at peace with moving on. Doing more consultancy work instead of forcing the issue on getting cash sponsorships for Muni events. There’s a lot of other things I could do with my skill set and my network in the Philippines that could provide more decent pay with less risk (because I wouldn’t be independently mounting an event and just praying it break even). 

The Blue Pill

From the time I left Berlin in March to my mini-meltdown in June, I hadn’t figured it out. I gave myself time to think about it more. Besides, I had other things that were keeping me happy in the meantime.

I was off to Europe to spend time with someone who made me feel the happiest I had felt so far. I was high and hopeful.

Normally, I’m guarded when it comes to matters of the heart. I don’t immediately let people in. Neither do I immediately go all out. So, the fact that I let my guard down so easily when we met, quieted my normally over-analytic mind, and traveled 12,000km with the sole purpose of spending time (2 months!) with someone I had spent not more than 8 days with at that point, was crazy.

I had no clue what I would do in Europe apart from be with him and learn more about his daily life, his work, his family, and try to expand my network in Spain (and Europe in general) and look for potential work opportunities. (Admittedly, the efforts I did for the latter were half-assed, and I know I could have tried harder.)

We had a glorious time. In November, we spent a couple of days in Paris (then I spent some days with the Philippine delegation for COP22 in Marrakech), and several days in Naples, Rome and Venice, until finally going back to Madrid where we played house for a little over a month. It was one of the best times of my life, up until the final days before my pending departure, when we dread having to be apart.

From the get-go, a long distance relationship was not something either of us wanted. And prior to me going to Europe in November, neither of us had really thought through what I might be doing on that side of the world. Between L and I, he had the more stable gig, which required him to be in the continent. So the question was always, what would I do in Europe if I moved there?

The Red Pill

I still had a lot of what I felt was unfinished business with Muni, and with my country in general. We still had the upcoming Muni Market in 2017, and I wasn’t quite ready to let it go yet.

Other things I was considering earlier in 2016 included the possibility of further studies on Environmental Psychology in the UK (if I managed to get a scholarship), and other creative pursuits like content creation, painting and such, which I could technically do from wherever.

But assuming I got the scholarship, I would have wanted to apply those lessons in the Philippines too. And I still have a hard time aligning with the idea that I could make money with creative personal work vs. doing mindful marketing consultancy or other things related to the work I did with Muni. And for consultancy projects, it would be easier to get them in a country where I’ve already built a considerable network and reputation (and in a country whose language I actually speak).

So as my stay in Europe was coming to a close, and I had no answers yet, I was sad and worried. But I remained hopeful that what L and I had was strong and that we would figure it out. 

ACT 4: TROPICAL DEPRESSION

The Beauty of the Philippines

When I got back to Manila in January 2017, I actively did the pre-work I needed to do for Muni Market 2017 set in April. Good news also came when my mother’s PET scan came out clear.

In February, my love for traveling within the Philippines was re-established when I spent some time with the parents and accompanied them on short trips to Quirino province, and Bagac, Bataan, and also in Subic for a forum on Responsible Travel, which also showcased some great things happening in the country, travel-wise.

It just made me re-realize that, damn, there really is so much to see here, and there’s so much work I could do here too. On top of all that, that month, I found out that I didn’t get the scholarship I had hoped for, and work opportunities I had applied for also fizzled out – less reasons to be in the Europe.

With a renewed appreciation for the beauty of my own country (in spite of the political mess and the bad rep we may have with foreigners as a result), and without clearer opportunities in Europe, doubt had begun to creep into what I previously thought was a stronger fortress that L and I built.

No matter where I went traveling or for however long, I would always regard the Philippines as home. And it seems that even if I did find something to do in Europe and managed to do some work in the Philippines (remotely for a large part), no compromise could be made for me to spend even a couple of months in the year back home.

The Unknown

We also did (or didn’t do) certain things that made our relationship stand on less solid ground, like not having a definitive date to see each other again, or making plans but having work constantly get in the way, or simply not being as present (even virtually) for each other. It didn’t help that we would have these conversations over Skype calls (or worse, through What’s App messages) vs. in person where we could kiss and make up to make each other feel less shitty. Repeatedly watching La La Land did not help either.

There was also the issue of kids, which had been brought up before but not thoroughly discussed. While L would say he didn’t know where in the world he would be or what exactly he would be doing in a couple of years (he claimed he was not a planner like that), one thing he knew for sure was that he wanted to have kids eventually, whenever that would be.

I’ve never been comfortable with the idea of having my own children, so much so that I’d already told my mother years back not to expect any grandchildren from me. Though admittedly, he made me start considering it, thinking maybe I just hadn’t met the right person at the right time in my life yet. This is not to say that I now actually wanted children, or that he was necessarily the right person, or this was the right time, but he actually made me start to really rethink something I thought I had been so sure about for myself.

Lights Out

There were just too many things I would have to reconsider about how I wanted to live my life if we were to make things work. And so, with all these things combined, the fire that burned twice as bright, burned twice as fast. And before February was over, we had decided to break it off.

We busied ourselves with work, coped with the pain of the loss in our own ways. I thought I was okay; I remained fairly productive in the first couple of weeks of breaking up.

Then I struggled with a major logistical / organizational issue for the upcoming Muni Market (a month before it was scheduled to happen), and this really, really stressed me out for at least a good week. And after discussions with the concerned parties left the issue unresolved, I experienced something akin to a panic attack.

At some point during that ordeal, I posted “This too shall pass” as a status on Facebook, which prompted L to ask me if I was okay. I wasn’t.

And while I was glad he was concerned, it also opened an emotional floodgate. I couldn’t imagine life without him. We chatted a bit, but tried to keep some distance. I binged on This Is Us. I sent him a heartfelt email, and we agreed to go on a call when the craziness of the Muni Market was over. 

Limbo

Muni Market 2017, with its well-attended and well-received meetups with topics ranging from fashion, communication, food, travel and waste were a success. And the question again was: “When is the next one?”

When is the next one indeed? This was the second year that I ran it thinking, will this be my last one? Is it time to move on? But each time we run it, and we get feedback from the community that it was such a great experience for them, and that we need more of these, it makes me feel like what we do matters.

I constantly wonder if the work we do could essentially be done by some other groups, since from the time Muni was born, more like-minded groups have come up. But I am constantly told there is value here. It’s just about deciding how I might continue to serve the community while harnessing more of the value for myself as well vs. just getting caught up in the work.

Simultaneously, I felt like I made a mistake and broke up with L too soon, without having more discussions or exploring more options or waiting it out a little longer. And so I reached out, asking if we might continue trying. I gave him time to think. We went back and forth again about when we next be able to see each other. It was not an easy time.

From the time we got together, I had to condition my mind about living life one way, and then the other, and back again, and back again, and again, and again. Not knowing where to stand, and an extended feeling of not being on any solid ground is nerve-wracking and insanity-inducing.

Meanwhile, tired of feeling pathetic and taken for granted and generally not liking the person I was becoming, with a prompt to carry on with life without him (while he took more time to think), I did. 

I sought opportunities locally, and finally settled on a short-term consultancy project for a sustainable tourism project in El Nido, Palawan from May to June 2017. It kept me busy, like, really busy, that I had almost no time to think about my feelings.

By the time my project contract ended though, I thought it was also more than enough time for me to get a more definitive answer from L if I should stay or I should go. In April, I was ready to drop things to try again with him. But the longer it took for him to decide, the less confident I was that it would be a good decision. Perhaps it was just a refusal to let go of something that represented the happiest I had been so far, and an escape from the world as I know it.

And while the week before another fateful conversation in early July, we were making plans to see each other in August, our conversation was about us having our moment, and losing it. We lost it when we didn’t make firm plans to see each other in May. Or when we couldn’t make plans to see each other in March or April. Or perhaps we lost it earlier, when I left Madrid in January.

Whatever the case may be, it seemed that we were right to break up earlier in February. And we simply regressed when we should have been moving on.

With that sealed, clean and clear, I was on a fierce mission to move on. I made month-long travel plans (to leave within a week in a few days after that conversation), got back on Tinder with a vengeance, and sought comfort in the sea. I’ll save the details of that for ACT 5.

Suffice it to say that travel and the sea helps, and as much as I think I prefer nature vs. people, talking to certain people who you meet along the way helps more – whether it be about your heartbreak, or what you would like to do with your life moving forward, or simply learning from them, about them, and their life experiences. Tinder, not so much. Or if it does help, in my case, it only serves to make me realize what I don’t want (even when I thought it was what I wanted).

After a month of visiting friends and traveling through Negros and Cebu, I’m now back in Manila. I’m on the road to recovery from heartbreak, and hopefully sorting my shit out and getting my act together, as I’ve seen myself experience a Renaissance after going through these types of things. The only way out is through. And hopefully, I emerge from it better and brighter than before.

If you’ve read all the way to the end, thank you for sharing your time. I’ve only started to let you in on the story, and my personal, selfish dilemmas. Perhaps more reflections and insight will follow in succeeding posts. 

You may not agree with the choices I made or didn’t make, or how I’ve dealt with things, and you can keep your judgment to yourself. But if you empathize with anything I’ve said, or feel less alone, or possibly more hopeful that things will get better, then I send you love and high fives. 

To brighter days ahead, Jen