Editor’s Note

Summiting Mt. Sinai in Egypt

I wanted to be a writer since I was 10 years old. I know this because that’s the age I started keeping a journal. I still have those old notebooks somewhere, but I shudder to think what I was writing about back then. (Probably something painfully mundane like what happened at school that day or my latest altercation with one of my siblings).

 

I remember being part of the editorial team of my grade school paper, and then again in high school. Some people have asked if I wrote for the Collegian in university, and the answer is no, I didn’t, and I don’t know why. But I do remember co-writing the banner story for the paper we produced for our Journ 104 class (Newswriting or Newspaper Production, or something like that). It was about the CPDP, or the Commonwealth Property Development Project, which was a hot topic that many students were railing against at the time. ‘Prayer or Presidentiable Only Ways to Stop CPDP,’ UP President Says was the headline. I also wrote a couple of feature stories inside.

Taking Abby for a weekend stroll

 

After university my first job was in advertising because a friend at the time convinced me to join her as she sent in applications to all the big agencies. I got hired before she did, which I felt surfaced feelings of resentment because she was the one who so badly wanted to get a job in that industry in the first place. It was a short stint for me though; I knew next to nothing about advertising (even though it was part of the curriculum in school) and I worked as a junior media planner that involved a lot of numbers and Excel sheets, which I knew even less about. I was outta there in less than a year.

 

I kicked around and did a few odd jobs for a few months—writer for a PR agency, PA for a TV show on a UHF channel, and even a collections agent for a multinational bank (haha)—before landing a job doing grunt work in the news department of a giant TV network. Even then I continued to find outlets for my desire to write. I submitted an unsolicited essay to an editor of the country’s top music magazine and asked if I could contribute; she took a chance on me and said yes. In between extended shifts at work I found time to write CD reviews, attend gigs, and interview local music acts. I also started a blog, which I updated quite regularly with a more grown-up version of those notebook journals from when I was a kid.

I think I made five trips to Boracay this year

Took me a few months to finish this book

I stayed at the network for six years but I knew it wasn’t where I wanted to be, and the job wasn’t the thing I wanted to be doing for the rest of my days. I went through a phase where I imagined myself working in the foreign service and even briefly considered going back to school to study International Relations. And so I quit to work as a staff member of a foreign embassy in Manila. I had a great boss and met some nice people, and the pay was actually pretty decent, but again, the job itself just wasn’t for me.

 

I heard about an opening for an editor for a magazine and decided to try my luck, submitting as sample articles mostly the stuff I wrote for the music title. The salary was less than half of what I was getting at the embassy, but I took the plunge anyway because, finally, I felt this was the job where the thing I wanted to do and the thing that I felt I was actually good at, finally converged. It was never about the money (although having it certainly made things a lot easier).

One of my favorite stories that I did this year was when I visited this religious colony in Cebu

A few months later, I was back in Cebu and did a story on the vendors of the hundred-year-old Carbon Market, who claim they were being displaced by the redevelopment project

I stayed in the company for eight years; the first two with a men’s title, and the last six for a luxury and society magazine. In 2015, the opportunity to work for the local franchise of an international business title—which was under a competing publishing company—presented itself, and, although I felt rather safe and contented in my cushy old job, I decided to shake things up one more time.

 

At Forbes Philippines I worked under one of the industry’s best and was surrounded by colleagues who were no slouches themselves (we’re talking award-winning journalists). More than the prestige of being part of the pioneering team of a globally recognized title, it was learning firsthand from industry heavyweights that I appreciated most about that initial foray into slightly unfamiliar territory. Too bad the magazine lasted only a couple of years. But my boss recruited me to be part of a new team that would run Entrepreneur Philippines, and I accepted, if only for the privilege of working with and learning from him even more.

In Bohol, I met Mang Nestor, who is one of the last makers of asin tibuok in the island

Also in Bohol, I met Cid, who runs a blademaking enterprise

 

I interviewed Atom Araullo for this year's Man at His Best awards

But the target has always been Esquire. And given my professional trajectory up until this point, you’d understand why I felt that it made sense that I would end up here. The path may not have been a straight line, but, on hindsight, I’m grateful for all those detours because every single one prepared me for where I am now.

 

To me, Esquire has always been about smart, relevant, and insightful content that actually adds something to your life instead of simply stealing your time. It’s a platform that reflects the interests of a person—man, woman, and everything in between—who is always striving to become better versions of themselves. Heck, this is a magazine that has published works by giants of modern-day literature—Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Raymond Carver, Truman Capote, and Stephen King. Naturally, when the magazine made its debut locally, it provided space for the words of our own literary royalty—writers like Butch Dalisay, Krip Yuson, Jessica Zafra, Sarge Lacuesta, and many others.

Vietnam was my first overseas trip after the pandemic

A few weeks later, I found myself going for the first time to New Delhi, India

And one week later, I was walking the streets of Manama, Bahrain

 

I do not claim to be at the level of these distinguished men and women of letters, nor do I fancy myself as some maverick out to change the course of a title that has existed since before World War 2. But I do feel I bring something to this gigantic potluck dinner that so many others have brought appetizing flavors to over the years—a thoughtfulness and sensibility shaped by years in attendant industries, professions, and publications. Everything I studied in school and every job I had before this were all just a rehearsal for the main event. You can say I spent my whole life getting ready for this job and I can only hope I don’t mess it up.

 

To be EIC of a publication today isn’t what it used to be. And, certainly, being EIC of a digital publication isn’t the same as that of a print title. The job description covers much more than developing a content strategy and seeing it through to execution; the basics are there, for sure, but it’s simultaneously much more wide-ranging and nuanced, covering aspects that vary wildly from what an EIC had to deal with 10 or 20 years ago. You don’t need me to tell you how much the landscape of media and the consumption habits of audiences and consumers have changed in the last decade or so, and those pose a different set of challenges—and opportunities—for existing platforms like Esquire. It’s tough but exciting work, and while some days are more stressful than others, the fact that every day is a little bit different than the last  (sometimes a lot different) is reason enough to be grateful. (That I work with a pretty stellar team that could hold their own with some of the best in the business is a very welcome bonus).

Egypt was the trip of a lifetime

And going there with friends made it all the more special

 

Naturally, I acknowledge the furrowed brows and surreptitious stares from those who might question my credentials and scoff at my perceived abilities. But I’d like to think the days of second-guessing myself and crippling impostor syndrome are behind me; or, at least, I’ve brought those down to manageable levels. Besides, if the powers-that-be believe I’ve earned the honor, then that’s all the approval I need. I’ll let my work speak for itself.

That said, I do acknowledge that I stand on the shoulders of the great men and women who have come before me as stewards of this venerable publication and am grateful for the opportunity to take it further. I understand the gravity of this position and not for a second do I take it for granted. My team and I intend to tell more stories that go beyond the painfully mundane and will strive to offer deeper, more meaningful insights on issues that affect Filipinos in the world we live in today. In this iteration of the magazine, the focus is on meaningful storytelling: hopefully the kind that can inspire others to take pen to paper (or fingertips to keyboard), just like I did all those years ago.

 

There’s more to come from Esquire Philippines and I hope you join us for the ride. 

 

Here's to the year ahead

PJ Caña

Editor-in-chief

Esquire Philippines

27 December 2022

Interview with Liam Gallagher: “I'm A Little Wiser, A Little Calmer”

The stories I've written over the years are scattered all over the internet. Some are no longer available online. Like this one, which is one of my all-time favorites. It came out in The Manila Times in April 2009. I got to interview Liam Gallagher just before he and his bandmates from Oasis stepped onstage at Singapore's Indoor Stadium. That turned out to be one of their last shows ever as the band called it quits just a few weeks later. My account of the actual concert can be found here.  

Me and Liam. He looks like a wax figure here

Liam Gallagher's handshake is firm, and he doesn't get up from his seat when I meet him inside a function room of the Singapore Indoor Stadium about two hours before he goes up onstage. With his new buzzcut, the creases on his face and the film of wisdom in his eyes, the irrepressible and irreverent frontman of rock supergroup Oasis was looking far less intimidating than in years past, when his wild and often violent ways made headlines around the world. I had no idea what to expect when I was told I would be getting the opportunity to interview one of the most unpredictable and irascible personalities in modern music. I could only hope he would be in one of his better moods. 

“We all got a little bit wiser, a little bit calmer, “ he said in his thick Mancunian accent, in answer to a question on the difference between Oasis in 1995 and 2009. “There's not a lot of drugs knocking around,” he deadpanned, drawing chuckles from the small group of journalists from all over Asia. Oasis played a show at the Lion City as part of their tour to promote their latest album, Dig Out Your Soul.

Keeping Things Fresh

The band is known for performing almost the exact same setlist in every leg of their tour, so I asked Liam how they managed to keep things fresh after doing the same thing night after night. His response was typical Liam: to-the-point and expletive-laden. “I don't really keep things fresh. We just go there and do our thing, innit? We don't change the setlist. It's the same old f****n'; thing. That's how we keep things fresh, by not keeping them fresh.”

Many artists and bands have expressed their admiration for the band by covering their songs, including popular alternative-country act Ryan Adams, who did “Wonderwall,” but, apparently, this doesn't sit well with Liam. 

“I don't like that. That version was too fuckin' pansy. Chris Martin did “Songbird” once and I told him, don't ever f***n' sing that song.”

Has he ever liked anybody else's version of any of their songs?

“Hmm...No. I heard the Foo Fighters do “Lyla” once. It sounded like the song was being f***ing murdered.”

But Liam does have a soft spot for at least a couple of bands out there. “The only one band that I consider any good at the moment is Kasabian. They look good, the music's great, they've got soul, and they're f***in' mad live. They're really great performers. The Arctic Monkeys are all right, but not as good as Kasabian. They're the best band around...” He pauses a moment before adding. “Well, second best band.” But of course.

Interviewing Liam

Something different

Someone asked Liam about the new album and without hesitating, he said, “I don't know if there's anything special in it. It's just a good album. I dunno if there's anything special. It's just a good piece of music. The sound is good.” The journalist presses Liam about “Dig Out Your Soul,” particularly about its cover art, but Liam is clueless. “What does it mean? I dunno.  Who did it? I dunno who made it...but I like it.” 

Apart from music and touring, Liam is also busy these days with the clothing line he recently launched called Pretty Green. Yes, the rock and roll star is also into fashion. 

“I just wanted to do something different, d'you know what I mean? When we finish this tour, I don't want to be stuck at home twiddling my thumbs waiting for Noel's f***in' instructions. I think clothes are equally important as the music. There's no point in writing good songs if you look like a f***in' idiot. So you've got to dress cool. You've got to write cool songs. If people like it, they like it. If they don't, they don't. They don't have to buy it.”

Twitter addict

Liam, who once said he wasn't into all the techy stuff said he now uses the social networking application Twitter. “I'm kind of enjoying it. You can get [feedback] direct from people. So if someone is saying shit about you, you can sort of quash the rumors right away.”

The rock star, who married All Saints member Nicole Appleton and has four kids, said that absent all the hoopla surrounding him and Oasis, he lives a pretty normal life back in England. 

“[When we're on tour, I miss] the routine of everyday life. I do like just getting up, sending the kids to school, going to the park. Just normal things, like going for a drink.” 

“Although I don't drink that much,” he was quick to add. 

The boys onstage later that night

Misconception

Throughout the interview, I was on edge, half-waiting for Liam to suddenly throw one of his infamous fits or perhaps even throw a punch if he didn't like a question. But it never happened. Instead, he was a breezy subject, candid and forthright about everything; polite even, but not mincing words either. 

I asked him what he thought the biggest misconception was about him, given his extremely colorful and eventful life. “I dunno man. If people f***in' piss me off then I can be a c**t, d'you know what I mean? But if people are cool, then I'm cool with them. Then obviously the people who write shit about me are obviously c**ts and I piss them off. So there you go. I don't care what people think. That's none of my business.” 

Perhaps it was because Liam wasn't turning out to be the arrogant, self-involved rock star everyone thought he was that other journalists became more daring in their questions. Asked why he was so critical of other bands, Liam patiently replied: “I'm not critical of anyone. People ask me a question, 'Do I like their music, then I'll say no. But say I like lots of other bands – they never write about that. They always write about the ones I f***in' don't like. And it's my right to not like them. It's my opinion. It's not like I ask for a [press] conference just to shoot some guns off. I go about my business. Somebody asks me what I think about Franz Ferdinand, and I f***in' tell them they're shit. That's what it is. I don't want them to die of a car crash or a paper cut or something. I just don't like their music. They're not my music. I hate shitty music.”

A concert of a lifetime

He's still a hellraiser, that much is certain, but a far tamer and less rowdy version. The rock star who used to figure in brawls and butt heads with almost everyone he came across (even his own brother, bandmate Noel) may have mellowed down considerably, but the attitude and spunk are still there, hidden behind his light blue eyes and assault of one-liners and expletives. And to music's great credit, it looks like we'll still be on the receiving end of Oasis's onslaught for years to come. 

“As long as we enjoy it, and we obviously enjoy it, there'll still be Oasis. I'm not doing it for the money, although that's nice. But definitely, I'm doing it because I like it, and that's where I get my kicks from, going onstage singing songs, making people happy, d'you know what I mean? So I'd do it forever. The Rolling Stones are still at it. What's the point of splitting up if you're enjoying it, just so you can say 'Hey man, we split up.' Whoopee.”

Compersion, Or Why Partying Outside a Club's VIP Room Isn't So Bad

In a yacht somewhere in Subic Bay

The story goes of a guy who wanted to spend the night out with some friends at a fancy club. It’s the weekend and he just wanted to let loose. So he goes to the club, gets a table, and orders drinks. He and his friends hit the packed dance floor a few times and orders more drinks. Life’s good and they’re having fun.

But later the guy notices a room on the other side of the club behind black velvet drapes and guarded by a couple of beefy bouncers. When the curtains part each time somebody walks in—usually a well-dressed gentleman surrounded by tall, modelesque women wearing glittery, low-cut dresses—he could just make out the people partying inside. They were holding up champagne flutes and even had their own celebrity DJ blasting loud party music that was different from what he was hearing in the club’s main room. It looked like everyone in the VIP room was having more fun than he was.

Evening in a beach in Bohol

Outside the historic church of Paoay in Ilocos Norte

The guy is then filled with jealousy and rage. He wants to go inside the private room and party with the beautiful people. Why does he have to stay here in the main room where everyone else is? There’s nothing special about mingling with the hoi polloi. It’s not fair, he thinks. He wants to be a VIP, too. 

But soon he realizes how irrational he was being. He was having a perfectly good time with his friends before he became aware of the private room. He had been content and happy doing exactly what he wanted to do that night, which was to drink, dance, and spend time with his friends. But he forgot all about that and became bitter and resentful just because he saw something that he thought was better than his current situation.

Loboc River in Bohol

Hanging out with Abby at my friends' farm in Cavite

I wish I could take credit for this story and tell you that I came up with it on my own. But I actually read a version of it online a few years ago, in an essay that I can’t seem to find now. I guess that just tells you how much the story has stuck with me. 

For much of my adult life I’ve wrestled with the idea of contentment versus complacency: to choose to be happy with what I have or to search for something more. And this year, for some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about that guy in the club. 

Often I forget how incredibly lucky I am I get to live this pretty good life because I fixate on stuff that I don’t have that seems personally out of reach, on the wildly hopeful chance that whatever it is will make me happy—or, at the very least, happier. That private room behind velvet curtains could be anything: the promise of professional advancement, a romantic interest, a better car, better skin, a roomier apartment. (Not saying all of these things apply to me; I’m just citing some specific examples). 

Working on a yacht somewhere off the coast of Cebu

Happy place in Boracay

It could also just be what others have that I might want for myself. I see people my age having get-togethers in the grassy lawn of their suburban homes; I scroll past friends showing off a brand-new business or car; or posting photos of their kids that are old enough to drive or grow a mustache; or posing before a landmark in a city that I’ve always wanted to visit. Yes, sometimes, there is a split-second of why-can’t-I-have-that envy, but—and this is true—it’s always quickly replaced by genuine happiness (for the most part). Because these are people that I know, and it gives me pleasure knowing that something gives them great joy, enough for them to want to share it with the world. 

It’s a peek behind the velvet curtains into a world that, yes, might possibly elicit feelings of resentment, but that also ultimately leads to me saying, “Wow, good for them!” This feeling apparently has a word, and it’s called compersion (look it up!).

Peace and quiet in Tagaytay

A photo break while on an ATV adventure in the shadow of the Chocolate Hills in Bohol

Like the guy in the club, eventually I reach that level of self-awareness where I know I’m being petty and unreasonable, especially to myself. Choosing to be happy for someone else’s new pair of kicks, fancy lunch, trip to the beach, quiet moments with their children or parents or significant other, or yes, chance to party inside a fancy club’s private room, is easier and much simpler than wallowing in feelings of bitterness and indignation. That’s probably my biggest reckoning this year. 

Of course, those instances of jealousy at things other people have or get to experience can’t be helped sometimes. Social media is designed to highlight—and actually encourages—"winners,” which often incites covetousness and contempt, whether we admit to it or not. But what I’ve learned this year is that you just can’t spend too much time obsessing over what you don’t have, because that way leads to anger and frustration. 

Besides, while you’re looking longingly inside the VIP room, you can’t lose sight of everyone else stuck in the line outside and can’t even get inside the fancy club in the first place. The lives of the fortunate and the “blessed” might be all over social media, but we should spare a thought for the luckless and the “cursed,” which, of course doesn't get as much screen time, so to speak.

(That said, a night at the club certainly isn't everybody's idea of having a good time. Some people just want to kick back at home, fire up Netflix, and sit back on the couch with popcorn and some Coke. And that's perfectly fine, too).

Outside an old church in Pampanga

Good memories at this resort in Boracay

And so, in the end, I'm like that guy and just choose to live in the moment. It doesn’t take me long to realize that, hey, I’m partying, too. It may not be with champagne and a superstar DJ behind velvet drapes, but the important thing is that I’m with my friends, there are drinks, and there’s definitely dancing.

Moonlight over Boracay

See you next year, from Abby and me

Run and Find or Sit and Wait

First time in Boracay since 2015

The trip to Boracay finally happened a few weeks ago after months of planning and waiting. I was originally supposed to go last April with, er, someone, but certain status changes, not to mention adjustments in quarantine pronouncements, pushed it back to July. The original plan morphed into a work-from-beach situation with my friend Tanya. I also managed to convince Pedi and Arnie to come and hang out there with me for a few days. 

I’ve lost count how many times I’ve been to the island over the years. More than once I’ve said that a trip there is always a good idea. This time was different, though, for a few reasons. I was there for 10 days, which is probably the longest I’ve ever traveled anywhere here in the country (overseas trips are another matter); I was actually working for a huge chunk of the time I was there, which is only possible because of the extraordinary circumstances we’re in now; and, perhaps most importantly, I’ve come to a fairly interesting realization about why I travel relative to the reasons of other people.

Me, Tanya, Arnie, and Pedi on Puka Beach

See, to me, going to a new place has always been about enriching my own personal experiences. Specifically, a vacation to the beach like this one was always about rest and relaxation; a chance to leave the stresses of work and the city for a few days and think about little else but where to have dinner that night or what drinks to order from the bartender as you lie back on the lounge chair, plant your feet on the sand, and gaze out into the ocean.

That—or some variation of it—is probably the default response for a lot of people when asked why they go to the beach. But on this trip, as I spent it both with friends I’ve known for years and newer ones that I’ve essentially only just met, I understood that some people take these trips as an opportunity to expand their social circles, establish connections with a few people with similar motivations, and possibly consummate those relationships through physical interactions of the carnal kind. 

In short, to hook up. 

Me and Tanya hanging out at Movenpick

What's better than reading a book at the beach?

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, as Seinfeld would say. I’ve absolutely no judgments about those who choose to spend their vacation this way. In fact, if anything, I’ve started to think that maybe these people have the right idea. I realize that’s not exactly kosher these days when a deadly virus is flying around looking for a host to attach itself to, but it’s the idea at least, that’s got me thinking.

It’s not as if the thought hadn’t entered my mind, and, to go even further, not like I hadn’t dipped my toes in these waters in the past. But the point is that any attempt to go out there and hook up with someone when I travel was always a distant second to the other, more wholesome aspects of travel itself. 

Pedi, me, Tanya, and Jelo after a dip in the ocean at Station Zero

Which is perhaps why I’ve been having these thoughts now. I’ve been traveling a lot since my late 20s and maybe I should be making up for lost time. Maybe there’s nothing wrong with actively pursuing new relationships when I’m out there instead of staying passive. Maybe there’s value in looking for something else beyond the expected and the mundane when I travel. 

Alone again, naturally

On the other hand, maybe the reason I don’t do as my other friends do is that I’m just not built that way. You can run and find or you can sit and wait, but you can’t do both. And maybe I’m just more of the latter. It’s tough to force yourself to do anything if you’re just not into it. And maybe that’s okay, too. 

Anyway, Boracay was fun and I’d definitely do this kind of trip again.

Will see you again soon

Unending Quest

Sunset in San Juan, La Union

In 2005, I wrote a personal essay that got published in the Philippine Daily Inquirer’s Youngblood section. I wasn’t yet a full-time writer or editor, so it was a pretty big deal back then, seeing your name in a newspaper read by thousands of people. 

It wasn’t actually the first time I got published on Youngblood. A few years earlier, the PDI ran an essay I did about my tummy, specifically, how concerned I was about developing a pot belly like my dad's. (Who knows what was going on in the editor’s head). The internet wasn’t a thing yet, though, and I never saved a clipping of that essay, so I guess that’s lost to history.  

Thankfully, I saved this one in my old blog. For some reason I suddenly thought about it today and have decided to publish it here. It’s interesting to look back at the stuff I wrote when I was still pretty much a kid who had no clue about life, especially now that I’m a full-fledged adult who, well, probably still has no clue. 

Anyway I’m reposting it here, complete with the preface I wrote in the old blog entry, in case the old blog gets taken down (you never know with the internet when things can get wiped out of existence). 

I did some very minor edits in the original essay because, well, I’m an editor and if you can’t edit yourself, then you have no business editing other people. And I just added some photos because, well, I wanted to. Otherwise, it's pretty much the same thing that was published in PDI.

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Just the stirring in my soul

I wrote this essay more than two months ago, soon after some personal, erm, "distractions." It came out in the Youngblood section of the Philippine Daily Inquirer today. I originally entitled it "Quarter-life Crisis," but the editors changed it, apparently because that phrase has been used to death by countless souls like me determined to put a label on what we're going through.

Might as well post it here.

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Abby living her best life in Elyu

Unending Quest

Posted 00:59am (Mla time) Mar 31, 2005
By Paul John Caña
Inquirer News Service

WHO was it that said youth is wasted on the young? It's hard to disagree with him.

I turned 25 a few weeks ago and, for the life of me, I don't know what to answer if I'm asked what the biggest achievement of my life is so far. I suppose I can say that I graduated from college a couple of years earlier than most people and I now work in the news department of one of the biggest media companies in the country, and, yes, I write articles from time to time for a top music magazine. But somehow, I have never really felt that these qualify as a “huge” accomplishment. To put it another way, I can't really say I'm living my life “to the fullest,” whatever that means.

I would love to say that at this point I'm close to finding out what it is I am meant to do—and to be—for the rest of my life. But the truth is, I'm not. (Or maybe I am, but I'm not ready to acknowledge it yet and let it course through my veins.)

Whether or not they care to admit it, I believe most people my age have no idea either. Many of us wander aimlessly about in the vast wasteland after college (for those of us lucky enough to even get to college), living on our never-high-enough salaries from our never-good-enough jobs. I'm sure there is a tiny percentage of young people out there who seem to have it all: a clear understanding of their place in the world and all the material blessings needed to achieve their goals. But for the rest of us, the search for meaning and purpose continues.

In the movie Dead Poets Society, maverick English professor John Keating (played by Robin Williams) implores his students: Carpe diem. That oft-repeated phrase and cursory advice given to young people by their elders, who most likely had never been able to “seize the day” themselves and merely want to impart stock wisdom on impressionable minds, is also one of the easiest to digest and to dismiss. All too often, young people live as though they would be young forever and procrastination becomes a habit. Before we know it, our 20s have passed us by and we tell ourselves, “Hey, this isn't so bad. I could do a lot worse with my life.” Thus, the dream of finally doing what we want to do (as opposed to doing what essentially amounts to a “meantime” thing) remains just that—a dream.

The problem sometimes isn't so much our willingness to finally start living the lives we want as trying to find the balance between what is attainable and what is simply beyond our capabilities.

In the same movie, a fellow professor, quoting Tennyson, tells Keating: “Show me the heart unfettered by foolish dreams, and I'll show you a happy man.” To which Keating replies, “But it is only in their dreams can men be truly free. T'was always thus and always thus will be.”

The kind of person we are, and possibly, who and what we turn out to be, depends on which of these two concepts more closely defines our attitude toward our deepest aspirations. Realists, by nature, are confident of their own abilities and very much aware of their limitations. These people are only as ambitious as they are pragmatic and so they are rarely ever disappointed.

On the other hand, those who subscribe to the Keating school of thought are bound only by their imagination and limited only by what they dare to dream. They are undaunted by the possibility of failure and are not afraid to take on any challenge. Life is the canvas on which they can paint any picture.

Whichever way we lean, the bottom line is that we all are working toward the same goal: happiness and personal satisfaction. But it doesn't have to end there. In fact, I don't think our struggle to find happiness should ever end, even after we get whatever it is we want in life. Personal fulfillment (of whatever kind) should be an unending quest. I've never believed that “people should be satisfied with what they have.” That's like saying those who have nothing should just abandon the desire to improve their lives and simply accept their fate. Similarly, it shouldn't keep people who have achieved what may seem to be enough for others from setting new goals and continuing to work on improving themselves. Contentment should never be confused with complacency.

Balicasag Island in Bohol

At this point in my life, while I may not be 100-percent certain of what I really want to do, what my purpose in life is and what I hope to achieve, it helps to be aware of that fact rather than blindly trudging on, without giving any thought to workable objectives and visible goals. At the very least, I'm trying to iron out the kinks in my life and starting to establish closer personal relationships with the people who mean much to me. I would like to think I have learned from the mistakes of the past, but as with many others, I anticipate making more of them in the days ahead. I have also noticed that I'm becoming much more vocal about my feelings, my need to let out how I feel taking precedence over my concern over how others will react. I realize that this can be a bad thing, but hey, carpe diem, right?

Paul John Caña, 25, works as a newsdesk administrator in one of the country's top broadcast networks.