The six-year-old me wrote “I want to be a doctor [when I grow up]” in kindergarten. But when I noticed almost a quarter of the class jotted down the same, I retracted my answer. I quickly changed my yearbook entry; erased with all my might using my scented flower eraser my mom bought me that summer. I wrote, “I want to be a computer engineer,” because obviously I wanted to one-up everyone, without any clue what a computer engineer was. *** In grade school, I was very active in extra-curricular activities, especially in the performing arts. I can sing, dance, and act when needed to. I loved the stage. Hey, maybe I’m fit for TV. I will finally get to see Carlo [Aquino] in person. But when I finally auditioned for a grand school production, I didn’t get in. Welp, I dropped the idea of pursuing a show biz career. *** My mom says the reason why I no longer have a 20/20 vision is because I read in the dark a lot. I used to finish a book overnight with only the night lights on. I was a high school sophomore when I got my first specs and was diagnosed with astigmatism. Well, cool. That’s also the time I realized I love reading. And writing. *** Like most teenyboppers were—I, too, had a crush on a boy. But I wouldn’t consider this crush of mine the heartthrob type, rather someone to look up to. He was a senior and was the campus pub’s news editor. I brushed up my journ skills and had the courage to take the school paper’s competitive exam. Besides eyeing on a slot, it’s to also somehow impress my crush. One day you’ll be mine. Didn’t happen. One day I’ll be in your spot. It did. A year later, I didn’t end up with the guy. But I became the pub's news editor. I participated in regional and national campus press tilts and luckily won awards for it. That was a turning point when I finally decided what to do for the rest of my life. *** “Ma, nakapasa ako sa UP.” “Congrats, anak! Anong course?” “Behavioral Science.” It was one of those proudest moments in my life. Me, among almost 15 students in our batch, passed the UPCAT. To be honest, it was the least likely course I would take from the four options I wrote in my application form. Stupid, I said to myself, why didn’t you write journalism?? I reviewed my choices. Broad Comm and Comm Res in Diliman, then Nursing and Behavioral in Manila. Parents didn’t like the idea of me enrolling in UP because they believe it’s not safe there. Of course, that’s just an old exaggeration. I checked my options again. I passed UST and FEU with both scholarship offers (yet another humble brag moment there), and ended choosing the former. University of Santo Tomas, it is. *** Four years of college flashed back while I flipped through pages of my resumé. All those years, squeezed into two sheets of paper. Three campus publications. Six positions held. Several extra-curricula and extra-eds. Trainings. Org-affiliations. Oh what else did I miss? I went through exams, and more interviews, until one day I got a call and said I got in. A prestigious newspaper hired me. Great! I am now few steps away from becoming a political reporter. *** More than three years passed. Update: Not a reporter yet. I remember a colleague telling me, “You are not a tree. You should move.” I am not a tree. I am a vine. (As I crawled my way out of that jungle.) *** “I like your job coz you get a lot of freebies! And oh, theater tickets!” I liked it, too. I was never a fan of art, but theater—oh my, I get to see productions here and there. I was finally a reporter. A lifestyle reporter. Living the life of the fancy, schmancy; going to cocktail parties, junkets, free trips and getting free tokens. But by the end of every day, it crossed my mind, “I get free stuff, but can I actually pay for it? Can I actually pay for my bills?” November 2016 when twists and turns in my life happened. Financially, my family wasn’t stable enough to handle (I won’t elaborate further). That moment, I knew I had to quit. *** You know when you had your life all planned and polished out but life wants to f- with you and say, “Nah, dude. We’re heading the other way. Or somewhere there, at least.” Hang on. We are getting there. *** As of this writing, I’m into my sixth month in the hotel industry, working for media relations and marketing. This is something I have never imagined doing before, but here I am now. Surprisingly, I am loving every bit of it; the new learning experiences and new skill sets that come with it. The sudden appearances in magazines and society pages, hehe, kidding. It’s not that far from what I’ve been doing when I was still in media, but this time, I’m on the other side of the fence. Or what my boss likes to say: “I summoned her to the dark side.” Which in turn, I reply: “Well, the force is strong in this one.” The dark side’s not bad after all. *** As a new chapter in my life unfold, I realized nothing remains constant in this world. It’s an ongoing cliché, I know, but holds truth. When I was way, way younger I thought that by 25 I would be at the sidelines, covering politicians’ hullabaloos and whatnots. Thought I’d be living on my own as I have already afforded a house for myself. Thought I’d be ready to walk down the aisle with the man I love. Reality was: I had gone through some serious quarter-life crisis. I thought it was just an excuse millennials make when their lazy-ass can’t deal anymore. Wrong. It was that point when I ask myself, “Now what? Where to?” I’m already 26 and in quiet moments like this, I sometimes see my life rewind. Was there anything I wanted to change? Was there anything I regret? I would be lying if I say there isn’t. But when I finally snap back into my senses, I tell myself there is no turning back. No one can lay down their future without making any adjustments in between. You had your goals and ideals, but there will also be external factors coming through. There will be problems you will face. There will be circumstances you have to handle. And there will be sacrifices and decisions you have to make. I think what really matters is when you grow as an adult, you own up to those sacrifices and decisions. Then you toughen up. I bet my six-year-old self would sigh in disbelief, but I’m pretty sure she’d still be proud. We’ll get there, Cam, hang in there. :)