Twentysomething Anxiety: Time, Social Media and Everything in Between

Meg Jay hit the nail on the head when she coined the phrase "Defining Decade" to describe what it means to be in one's twenties, particularly in this digital generation. A lot of young people get lost in all the options presented to them along the way, with the mentality that there is a shortcut to success, like everything else in this world. If there's something to recall in the book, it's her call to bring back the value of hard work and rid ourselves of the "You Only Live Once" (YOLO) mentality we are both proud of and shameful for. It's to sacrifice the temporary temptation of now to work towards the future we want. There's never a better time to be young than now, considering all the options we have in this globalized, information empowered world, but that isn't without its disadvantages. 

To belong to this generation is to embrace being in a constant state of contradiction - a generation that preaches authenticity through filters, a generation with a dating lifestyle that revolves around the "Fear Of Missing Out" (FOMO) only to desire intimacy in the end.  We're a generation so averse to routines, cubicles, 9  - 5 work hours, a generation so obsessed with finding our passion and travelling. We have a love/hate relationship with social media, depending on how we utilize it, or perhaps how we feel about our own lives pitted against others. We may be swept away by what we see on social media or what we read on the internet, only to realise how far away from the truth everything is. 

I'm guilty of making generatizations all the time, my thoughts on the matter not being an exception. Me writing this is not an attack on my fellow twentysomethings, but a call to self-awareness, being a twenty something myself and guilty of the things I listed above. When I created my blog, I guess I was so obsessed with making my twenties count (thus my blog name, http://www.projectwentysomething.blogspot.com). Looking back, my early twenties were carefree years marked by my time living abroad and living in the moment, where FOMO reigned in most of my decisions. My mid twenties were marked by anxieties - of reconciling who I was, who I am and who I want to be, and humbling myself in the process. Now, I am entering the final leg of my late twenties, facing a career crossroad, and having a daily battle with the slowing speed of my once impressive metabolism. I feel I am past my own quarter life crisis, for now I am at the eye of the storm, where everything is calm inside even when the surroundings appear turbulent. 

Why is it that I am so obsessed with marking what phase of my twenties I am in to begin with? If there's anything this year has taught me, it's that time is but a social construct- a prison we impose on ourselves, as argued by Eckhart Tolle in his famous book, "The Power of Now". There is pressure that comes with achieving this much by this age, and because social media is utilised to advertise our achievements (whether we do it intentionally or not) the pressure we feel is heightened. It's hard to find balance when there is so much noise around, thus the ever so growing popularity of yoga or a "back to basics" lifestyle or patronizing something that connects us with our core selves. The provincial life has never had this much appeal than before, and is the frequent destination when one decides to take some sort of sabbatical from life or from one's demanding career. We have seen this in Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love, where critics are torn between calling the account self-indulgent versus introspective. In all cases, time appears to be suspended - you feel as if time stops and there is no constant rush to be here or do this or that. In all cases, the foe seems to be man's race against the limited time he has on earth. 

Time and anxiety are probably correlated. Anxiety for me is a feeling - a paralysing one. And like most feelings, the more you resist them, the more powerful they get. If you want to get rid of anxiety, or any negative feeling you are dealing with, you have to ride out the feeling. Quit the distractions. Anxiety for me is energy that wants to find release one way or another. Negative thought patterns, looking for an outlet, "release" themselves in the form of back pains, migraines, fidgeting, or an aversion to caffeine. The plus side is that since it looks for an external host, it can be displaced into some other form, such as drawing, writing, or doing sports. Anxiety is a symptom, without a clear root cause. But because the closest way to understanding it is to understand our relationship with time, perhaps the apparent cause could also be the cure. Understand what time is to you. Why you need to rush and achieve this or be this. Understand that the time it takes to deal with anxiety is always relative to the person. There will never be shortcuts, it is just something that you deal with at your own pace. Rushing to be "ok" disrupts the natural cycle of healing that we end up taking longer because we begin with square one, which is denial. 

Free yourself from the prison that is time and live life, regardless of what age you are in. YOLO does not have to mean reckless behaviour; it could simply mean living in the present moment without worrying about the past or future to the point of analysis paralysis. Do everything and associate with who or that which leans towards the good, so that there will not be any form of moral or emotional limbo that breeds anxiety. Above all, be gentle with yourself (a favourite line from the Desiderata) and choose an image of a gentle God or life philosophy that wishes for your genuine happiness. 

Live with these in mind, one day at a time, and watch miracles happen. :)

View from San Juan, Manila, Philippines

Note: This is my first thought blurb in over a year, and I hope to get to write more and share my thoughts. Thank you for reading :)

Working to travel and traveling for work

Working to Travel and Traveling for Work

Every twentysomething of this generation is obsessed with travel. In the first few years into their careers, the greatest investment they have made is in the education that comes with traveling and experiencing different cultures and places. Gone are the days when tenure in a company is what peers would admire. In this here and now generation, what is very much aspired for is to see more of the world, or even what lies beyond one’s own city. There seems to be a burning desire in the core of most twentysomethings to get out of their comfort zone, even for just a while, through travel.

The word “budget” is the best friend of every twentysomething traveler - budget airline, budget hostel, budget meal. Roughing it is part of the charm that comes with traveling, as twentysomethings actually welcome the experience of shared accommodations and living off a backpack. All it takes is a long weekend and an online deal to message fellow travel-smitten buddies, pack one’s bags and jet off to the nearest oasis to escape the cubicle nation.

Some twentysomethings work to travel, but what if one gets the chance to actually travel for work? And no, it’s not by becoming a flight attendant.

The first time I traveled for work, I was assigned to a research project where I had to fly to a different city. Although it’s still within my country, it was different enough in terms of geography, culture and pace of life. It was surreal for me because as I boarded the plane, my hand carried luggage was not my trusty travel suitcase that is usually borderine overweight, but a roomy one comprised of my work laptop and files, and I actually had checked in baggage for my stay. Instead of studying the bus route to the city from the airport to save money, I leisurely took a cab and reimbursed all transportation fees. I had a very comfortable hotel room all to myself (television, minibar, bubble bath and all) and did not have to worry about taking the top of bottom bunk or sharing a communal bathroom. Instead of eating breakfast from a convenience store (or skipping breakfast altogether), I had breakfast buffet in the morning, amongst other tourists traveling in style or curious business travelers like myself. It was a very surreal experience for me, because I had that same feeling of “I may be part of something bigger than me” that comes from traveling, but this time around, instead of saving up to travel and glorifying the nomadic lifestyle, being paid to travel to achieve an objective while still being able to explore a different place was a source of accomplishment. It was a different kind of “living in the moment” that usually comes from traveling, since you are where you are because of your talents and skills. And that realization alone seems to be the real destination of this memorable trip I had.

Both working to travel and traveling for work are great experiences to have. Both teach you new things about yourself, stretch your limitations, test your capabilities. Both broaden your perspective of the world and of life.  The greatest lesson I learned from traveling for business is that working hard, being patient, staying focused and cultivating your strengths can literally take you places. I used to think that travel was a distraction or escape from work, but through my experience, I realized that it could be an opportunity because of work.

Soon I will travel just because. Hopefully soon I will travel for work again. But regardless of what the purpose may be, I think that whenever you can, travel. The realizations that travel can bring you about yourself are worth more than that ticket you bought or those extra hours you put in work, as you meet a new and better version of yourself every time you explore the world.   

 Cebu City's Lights, Cebu, Philippines

The Party in Hong Kong

The Party in Hong Kong

Originally published in: We Said Go Travel

Beep beep beep beep beep! The MTR gates shut behind me; my inhibitions waving goodbye from the window of the zooming train. I make my way through the blur of multicolored faces, escalator after escalator, in a concrete underground maze. When I finally reached ground level, the familiar sight of red walls greet me, along with the notorious sign that reads Exit D2. As people zigzag their way into each other, the Chinese characters from the print ads in the subway become a constant reminder of how different this place is from what I am used to.

As my friends and I make our way above ground and take the last step to exit the subway, the humid evening air embrace us as if expecting company. “We have arrived,” my friend said, the twinkle in her hazel eyes unmistakable. We parade into the street, welcomed by the symphony of lights that emanate from buildings, malls and bars just like stars – much like how we feel. Instead of a blare of trumpets, we are greeted by the strangely appealing discordant harmonies of bass drops, car horns, drunken laughter and alien accents. A short uphill trek take us to the heart of the place – a 711 store that both causes and nurses hangovers and broken hearts. And with a few drinks that comprise of a surprisingly pleasant selection of world beers, tropical vodka mixes, mini-wine bottles and the occasional accompaniment of noodle bowls or pork balls, I’m ready for the rest of the night – hopping from one rooftop bar to another, one club to another, one flight of stairs to another, one group of strangers to another, one set or arms to another, one side of myself to another.

Whenever I am here, I forget who I am, or who I am supposed to be. I forget about the things I worry about. I forget about what people expect me to do or how people expect me to behave. I forget the things that hold me back from experiencing life to the fullest. Like my ancestors before me, I just surrender to the rhythm of the night and forget everything but the beating of my own heart.

When you forget everything, all that is left is you. Without the influence of the past or future – it’s just you and the present seeing eye-to-eye. You freely raise your hands up in the air, dance the way you want to, befriend a random stranger, pretend you are royalty, just do what you want to do and feel what you want to feel, even for just a night – spilling over to the next, and the next and the next until life becomes just one grand party you take part of and celebrate.

To feel most alive – that is what freedom means to me. To submit to the senses and silence the mind. To have so much energy to last until sunrise. To be open to all possibilities and not say “I can’t” or “I won’t” because in this place, both do not exist. All that exists is YOU, and that is what matters most in the world.

I found freedom in the rugged rawness that reeks from the streets of Lan Kwai Fong, because this is where, for the first time in my life, I stopped thinking and started being.

I Had A Quarter Life Crisis After Coming Home From Living Abroad

Originally published in Thought Catalog

Turning 25 was like emotional limbo for me. For a full year, I felt like I wasn’t the same person as I was in my early 20s, but at the same time I didn’t feel like I was ready to face my late 20s just yet. At 25, nothing felt as stable as I would have liked it to be – I just moved back home after working abroad for two years, I was looking for a job, I was reconnecting with old friends, I was experiencing reverse culture shock. It is a fallacy when they say that things stay the same back home when you move abroad, at least in my case. In many ways, moving back home felt like I took a two year vacation from life, because while I was enjoying my time abroad, time had changed the place and the people I left behind. Some of my friends got engaged, some are now managers and building their careers, some I have lost touch with. Life back home did not stop when I left – in fact, in some ways I felt as if it left me behind. There I was, at 25 and back home, processing the years that were, returning to what was familiar and in denial about the things that are different, uncertain about what to do next or where to be, alternating between bursts of anxiety and creativity as I entertained the numerous possibilities of what life could have in store for me to top that grand adventure of living abroad.

I was still in Hong Kong when I turned 25 in January 2013. I moved back home June of the same year, since I did not renew my contract at the university I worked in. I never expected nor desired to work abroad when I graduated in 2010, or expected that I would stretch an initial nine-month contract to two years. When I left my previous job in 2011 I had no plan of what to do next, and the only job I applied to was my job in Hong Kong. With the help of networks and the guiding hand of destiny, my application process went smoothly and before I knew it, I was flat-hunting in Hong Kong with complete strangers at the time, who are now lifelong friends.

I found myself telling a friend I met in Hong Kong that the greatest lesson you’ll learn from your time abroad will reveal itself not necessarily when you go back home, but when you begin to fill those precious memories with new ones. In my case, after five months since coming back home I was lucky enough to be offered a consultancy project in a local company. Like everything new, it was an adjustment to get back to that 8 – 5 routine in my old-new city. But thankfully, my current job allows for flexibility in the way I do my work. I also have nice coworkers who, beyond our jobs, teach me new things about life simply by sharing about themselves. It is too early to tell if my current job is something I want to pursue long term, but simply establishing a routine back home by committing to a job helped me transition from living abroad to moving back home. Apart from the support of family and friends here and abroad, I have made a conscious effort to get in touch with my uncle who does informal career counseling, and occasionally see a professional counselor to help me stay focused on my goals.Those two years in Hong Kong are filled with such wonderful memories that even the most unpleasant ones now bring a smile to my face. Those two years portrayed everything a 20-something reads and watches online about what it’s like to live abroad – the friends you meet from all over the world, the travel adventures you have, the parties, the crushes, the local culture, the sights, sounds, smells and spirit of a city who’s pulse and energy becomes your own. In many ways the lives of 20-somethings abroad are very similar. It’s a new and exciting stage where you feel and experience the same things wherever you are in the world, but it’s how those experiences change you that makes the difference.

It has been eight months since I moved back home. In between then and now, the answer to the greatest lesson I learned from living abroad was achieving the reason of why I left home in the first place – to discover who I was outside what defined me back home. In Hong Kong, a dynamic and international city where anything and everything was possible, I found the strength to stay true to what I valued, I realized how much I wanted to spend more time with my parents who are getting older, I realized the worth of my relationship, and I finally understood what it meant to invest and sacrifice for the future versus simply frolicking in the present.

My quarter-life crisis was set in the backdrop of transitioning from living abroad to moving back home. It was during this time when life unexpectedly sat me down and engaged me in year long dialogue – it asked me if what I was doing with my time was in line with who I wanted to be, it forced me to move on from romanticizing the past, pinpoint and be grounded in my values and begin my vision for the future. My uncle wisely put that instead of escaping reality by moving countries or daydreaming life away, it was about time I created and built the reality I wanted, right where I am and right now.

I have come a long way since packing my life into two suitcases back in 2011. It is now 2014, and I am now 26. At this point, I feel more at peace with my decision to move back home. From here, at least for now, I will continue to build my skills as I plan for what is next. Nothing is certain (will anything ever be?) but the wheels of life are in motion, and I am driving towards a vision that is slowly materializing in the distance. 

You Will Realize This After You Move Back Home After Living Abroad

You Will Realize This After You Move Back Home After Living Abroad

Originally published by Thought Catalog

Moving Back Home. For people who have lived abroad, it’s a death sentence. It’s the end to your misadventures in a foreign land, and end to the identity you carefully crafted and experimented with, an end to the reality you authored, an end to an era of living in the present.

But when you moved abroad, the end had always been the beginning. When you signed that contract, the end shook your hand and allowed you to have your fun while it lasted. It laughed at all your hangovers and discomforts. Because it always knew that sooner or later, life will catch up. And if you’re not prepared, you’ll meet a version of yourself that didn’t fully “apparate” – Harry Potter speak, when you decided to move back home. Part of you will always be left behind the county you once lived in. Part of you in the home you spent many years in, but are not so familiar with anymore.

In short, you enter a crisis of sorts. You’re first met with delusions, where you figure out if those months/years actually happened. If you actually met the people you spent most of your waking hours with. Then, you feel anxious about what to do next – if you want to recreate yourself in another foreign country, or stay put where you are back home. Then you become analytical. You explore the pros and cons of your previous experience and try to justify to yourself why you moved back home and plan what to do next. It becomes your lullaby every night. Eventually, sick of being in your head, your stuffed animals staring at you and your Facebook pictures of living abroad, you take courage to reconnect with the friends you left behind at home, without losing sight of the friends you left behind at your other home across the Pacific Ocean. With the support of both parties, you feel better. Maybe you were never alone at all, even if you’re just around yourself most of the time, as you figure things out through this process.

So you know what I realized? Regardless of what geographical canvass you live your life in, one thing is constant – you will always be with yourself. That means that it’s not just about seeking the next big life-defining adventure in the backdrop of a new country or career path, but how you are ok with just being around you, wherever you are and whoever you are with. In fact, the end goal of moving back home will be bracing the realities in your life that you tried to escape from – whether it is familial, career, relationship, monetary, etc. Are you finally brave enough to face the fears back home that you tried to escape from? Do you want to start a new chapter in your life story? Because now its not about the setting anymore, but the plot that you want to develop.

And maybe at the end of the day, the main villain in your story is fear – it decided whether you’d move abroad, decided whether you’d move back home, and determined if you’d decide at all. Fear is actually a neutral character that can instigate behavior. So next time you feel it, wherever you are in the world, will you run away or face it? When you’ve figured that out, you’re finally home.

The taste of home away from home (Hong Kong, Dec 2012)

Sunsets in Hong Kong

There’s something magnificent about sunsets. To describe one is to find a speck of yellow plotted across a vast sky that turns the horizon red, then a slight purple, then eventually, a mysterious black blue. Black blue is probably the color of the universe, and without the yellow speck that is the sun, we have a glimpse of just how expansively empty the universe is. It’s a dark place, but the stars bring it some light, with the “star” of the show as the sun. This is probably what explains our fixation on sunsets, knowing that its goodbye for a while to our main source of light in an otherwise dark, dark existence.

Sunsets quell us. They open our hearts to the gift of peaceful solitude amidst the busy backdrop of our lives. Our other senses surrender to the sight of metamorphosis - of an ordinary backdrop turned extraordinary as light creates colors and shadows that have the ability to evoke emotion. Witnessing a sunset is like watching a painting drawn by God everyday for all men, regardless of class, gender, religion or race. Sunsets allow us to befriend time and not feel guilty as we reminisce the past, bask in the present and dream about the future and all its possibilities. They allow us to just “be” - and even be one with something beyond our finite comprehension.

Even sunsets caught on film can captivate and inspire. I hope you become as inspired as I have been by the sunsets I have seen in Hong Kong. 

Sheung Wan, Hong Kong Island

Stanley, Hong Kong Island

Tai Po, New Territories

View from the Peak, Hong Kong Island

Hong Kong Baptist University, Kowloon Tong

Wisdom Path, Lantau Island

View from Ocean Park, Hong Kong Island

Mui Wo. Lantau Island

Hong Kong Geo Park, New Territories

Tap Mun, New Territories

Central, Hong Kong Island

Disneyland, Hong Kong Island

Dusk at Stanley, Hong Kong Island

Dusk at Sai Kung, New Territories

What to Expect when Moving Abroad

Have you taken a leap of faith and left everything to move abroad?

Part of what made this time magical was your determination to make things work in your new country. No matter what the costs were. No matter how uncomfortable or lonely it could be. Relive the growing pains of starting over somewhere in the world and laugh about the makeshift life you led as you first transitioned to your new home abroad. 

• You have that nightmare story of your first month living abroad which you laugh and tell your friends about, even if back then all you wanted to do was cry and book a flight ticket back home.
• You most likely ate in Mcdonalds during your first week abroad, where you moped a little because you didn’t know where else to find meat. Or fish.
• You bought the cheapest, most basic cell phone for your local number, even if you owned an Iphone. Because you only used your Iphone when the WiFi was free. And also to take pictures of sunsets. Or your food.
• You attempted to start your nth blog during your first month abroad, and concealed the identities of your new friends via the first letters of their names. Eventually you forgot about your blog and used brunch as your new avenue for emotional catharsis.
• You realized that living with strangers was not too bad after all. And even if your flatmates did end up being a little creepy, you weren’t home most of the time anyway.
• You actually enjoyed going to Ikea. You turned a bedsheet you bought into a makeshift curtain, used those colorful plastic plates and cups when friends came over, and bought a tacky carpet just because. In fact, you sometimes go to Ikea just for the sheer joy of eating their meatballs.
• You didn’t own a television and watched everything from your laptop. In fact, you never even bothered reading a book during your first few months abroad, because your life was too exciting to escape from.
• You learned how to budget by using meals as units in buying clothes (i.e., “that top from H&M is three meals…”).  
• You only ate properly when your family was in town. Otherwise, sandwiches from 711 did the trick.
• You hardly washed your bed sheets. No one knows why but you just didn’t.
• You changed your name at one point or shortened it so locals can pronounce it easily. It’s like having an “English name” of sorts (if you taught ESL in Asia you’ll understand what I mean by this).
• You had a friend who organized everything - from birthdays to hikes to Secret Santa. 
• You also had a friend who knew about all the deals in town (“OMG 2-for-1 happy hour prices lets go NOW!”). More often than not, this friend was female. In fact, the reason you tried Yoga was because of her persistence in selling you the deal on Groupon.
• You only went to a movie theatre for dates or because you could get discounted tickets if you went as a group (again, it’s all about the deals…).
• You had a friend who hosted most of the house parties. He/she was the one who lived farthest away from civilization, but had the most complete kitchen (“OMG you have an oven!”) and the most spacious common area, so you didn’t mind.
• You actually went to the museum for fun, even if you have never been to the one in your own country, except that time you had to go for your primary school field trip.
• You wasted so much time on Skyscanner.com or Zuji.com, comparing flights and strategizing your layover trips. Hopefully, you weren’t the person who’s browser always screwed up the minute he/she was paying for tickets. 
• You locked yourself out (or in) of your flat after going out and slept in your friends place after calling him/her in the wee hours of the morning.
• You Ikea closet consisted primarily of pieces from H&M, Zara and Forever 21, which you can easily spot on the street, because those were the only places you could get “normal” and reasonably priced clothes from.
• You suffered from a bad haircut that cost twice as much as what you got back home because of a language barrier with the hairdresser.
• You organized a pest-control or mold-control operation with your flatmates - gloves and masks and all.
• You fought about doing the dishes with your flatmates. And fought about how one of you did not replace the egg they took. The worst was when the fight was about one of them taking your ice cream without asking permission.
• Your weight fluctuated like crazy, and so did your feelings about dancing to house music (something you used to hate). 
• You religiously Skyped at least once a week with people back home. It was your portal to the alternate universe you left behind, especially if you were in a long distance relationship.
• You secretly liked one of your coworkers / co-exchange participants or they secretly liked you. Because just as your food palette adjusted to the local cuisine, so did your taste for what you found attractive.
• Your definition of the perfect gift was a home cooked meal or a well-chosen book. But giving and receiving gift cards from Zara, H&M, or even Starbucks wasn’t too bad either.
• And lastly, your definition of “luxury” changed while you first moved abroad. Luxury meant upgrading the bananas and apples in your fridge to pomegranates and cranberries. Or spoiling yourself with legit morning coffee. Or buying that sinful cheesecake slice for dessert. But regardless, you learned that best luxuries were usually the simplest of indulgences… it was always having chocolate lying around - for days when you missed home, for days when you said goodbye to another friend or fling, or for days when you just wanted to enjoy that perfect moment of sheer contentment in your own corner of the sky, living life to the fullest in your new home abroad. 

Nom nom nom at my previous workstation