My friends have taken the leap. One is becoming a VP, one is taking a Master’s Degree in Creative Writing, and another left her job to re-examine her life, after her partner passed away .

And today another colleague left the company. She was the third to go. She wants to think over her career choice, if she’s still in the right place. She’s going back to school too. But first she’ll spend the first two months to clear her living space, and her head.

I also want to go back to school. In fact I was already signing up for a second degree when the pandemic hit. I also want to take up creative writing. Heck, I’ve meaning to write a book for a long time already. I also want time to clear my head, and take back my time. I desperately want to have a break, from work but also from daily responsibilities. I want to escape to the island and spend the whole day watching the ocean.

But I chose to stay. Being the longest employee and the only one left, I cannot let my employer down. I’ve also recently taken out a big loan to help a loved one. So I need the steady income, to support my parents, to pay the mortgage, to stay in hotels rather than campings with shared sanitary facilities. I chose to stay and stick with my decision of running my magazine. I have commitments I cannot ran away from. And I cannot leave my husband and my daughter, not even for the promise of peace of watching the ocean for a whole month. I chose the practical path, to work to earn, and write to sustain my sanity.

Maybe I am just a coward. Yes I am afraid. I am afraid because I have adult responsibilities. It comes with being Asian, with being raised a Filipino, being the first born who had the opportunity to have a good life. You need to give back. And as much as I want to live the romantic life of a writer, of a creative ready to go hungry for the craft, I cannot. Maybe my pride is too high. I do not want to be financially dependent on my husband, or the state, or on patrons. And maybe I am selfish, I’m not ready to give up my “career” to only care for my daughter and the household.

I cried a bit when my colleague closed the door behind her, not so much because she is leaving but more for the dreams that I decided not to pursue. My time will come, I know, my time to write that book, to take a break from my job, to watch the ocean all day. When the loan has been paid, when the new staff has settled, when the magazine has enough funds, and when my daughter does not need me anymore to be able to fall asleep. And if it doesn’t come, than maybe it’s not meant to.

For now, I chose to stay, here where I am needed.

As the Covid-19 pandemic drags on to 2021, I think we can all agree that shallow stuff like shoe buying is more entertaining than a pandemic wallowing. So I’d like to share a review of Carmina Shoemakers‘ women oxfords, the 2nd big purchase I talked about last year.

I’ve been searching for a pair of white, leather lace-up when my derby’s gave up on me after 7 years (read here). But two years of scouring physical and online stores didn’t yield “the one”.

I realized that quality pair of women’s oxford shoes are hard to find simply because only a handful of good brands are making them. Oxfords are still largely considered men’s dress shoes while women are still expected to cram their feet into stilettos or ballerinas. While I do own a few pairs of stilettos, I use them once or twice a year, which makes the cost per wear ridiculously expensive. Maybe it’s my age but I now consider oxford shoes a woman’s best friend. They’re practical for both office and casual wear. I think it’s the one pair every woman should have in their closet, especially working moms.

an you buy happiness? In fact you can! According to the study Prosocial spending and buying time: Money as a tool for increasing subjective well-being conducted by a group of researchers from Harvard University, University of British Columbia, and Simon Fraser University, spending money on giving (including charity), experiences, and time can actually buy you happiness.

I made a couple of big purchases lately. By big purchases I mean more than €150 and none of it among the 3 things mentioned above. Which led me to ask myself, am I trying to buy happiness?

t’s Sunday afternoon. I just lay down my sleeping daughter on the couch, after singing Frozen’s North Wind 10 times to lull to her sleep. I’m sandwiched between my child and my snoring husband. The dishwasher is running noisily in the kitchen. From my window, I can see a faint orange glow from the setting sun. The Christmas tree emits a delicious smell. It’s freezing cold but I’m wrapped in woolen socks, two layers of clothes and a thick blanket. In about an hour I’m going out for my second run this weekend before cooking dinner.

I was a few months shy of 25 when I moved to Holland. Yet in the first few years, I would always be carded if I buy alcohol or cigarette. I don’t remember exactly when they stopped asking for my I.D. but last week at work, I jokingly asked a colleague if I still looked 27 and he looked at me confused and sternly said ‘no”, as if my question was the most bizarre he heard that day.

Eleven years of living in the Netherlands and I barely noticed how time changed. I recently turned 36 and since my immigration, the years have been grinding steadily, albeit boringly consistent. I fell in-love, I migrated, I worked, I amused myself with wine, travel and marathons in between, I bought a house, I started a family and since then life had been about motherhood and working to pay the mortgage, debts and house renovations.

(Don’t worry! This is not a quit-my-job-to-travel-the-world kind of post)