January 2026 is waiting for us.
It’s not loud about it. It doesn’t wave banners or promise comfort. It simply stands there, quietly asking, Are you still willing to learn? Are you still willing to try?
Elaiza and I already answered that question when we enrolled in a Korean language program.
Yes, we’re excited.
Yes, we’re nervous.
Yes, we’re starting again.
Not because starting over is trendy.
But because stopping is not an option.
A few years ago, we studied Japanese. Different alphabets, different sounds, different way of thinking. It stretched our tongues and our patience. Now we’re stepping into Korean, new characters, new cadence, new cultural gravity. Another language, another leap of faith.
Some people might ask why we keep planning, why we keep enrolling, why we keep preparing as if the future depends on it.
It does.
We are planners because life in the Philippines teaches you early that hope without strategy is just poetry. Beautiful, but not enough to feed a family.
Here’s the truth, plain and unsweetened:
The minimum wage here cannot carry a family of four with dignity. It struggles to carry even one person without debt tagging along like an unwanted shadow. Prices rise like they’re chasing something. Salaries stay still, like they’ve given up running.
And then there was the news.
The statement that ₱500 is enough for Noche Buena.
Five hundred pesos.
I sat with that number for a long time, turning it over in my head like a coin that didn’t quite make sense. ₱500 for a family of four? In a market where rice, meat, vegetables, oil, everything has learned the art of inflation?
That number didn’t come from a kitchen.
It didn’t come from a mother budgeting with a calculator and a sigh.
It didn’t come from a father counting coins after a long day of work.
It came from a desk.
This is what corruption looks like in daily life. Not always dramatic. Not always loud. Sometimes it’s just deeply out of touch. Sometimes it’s a number that insults your lived reality.
And yet, here we are. Still planning.
Because when systems fail you, planning becomes an act of resistance.
Elaiza and I want to work abroad not because we don’t love our country, but because we love our families too much to accept a ceiling placed on our dreams by circumstance. We want to help. We want to give back. We want to make sure our parents don’t have to worry about tomorrow while pretending everything is fine today.
Learning a new language is not just about words. It’s about doors. It’s about mobility. It’s about saying, I am not limited to where I was born, even if I will always carry it in my heart.
There’s fear, of course. Fear of mispronouncing words. Fear of starting again. Fear of failing.
But there’s also this quiet excitement the kind that lives in your chest and whispers, This might change everything.
“We plan not because the road is clear, but because standing still costs more.”
Planning has become our survival skill. When one path closes, we sketch another. When one plan slows down, we don’t call it failure, we call it redirection.
“Dreams don’t expire. They just wait for braver versions of us.”
The Philippines right now feels heavy. News after news of corruption. Promises that don’t translate to groceries. Numbers that don’t match reality. But even in this weight, Filipinos keep moving. We study. We work. We migrate. We adapt. We love our families fiercely.
And so we plan.
From Japanese to Korean.
From anxiety to action.
From hoping to preparing.
January 2026 is not just about a language class. It’s about choosing motion over despair.
A Letter to the Reader
To you who are reading this,
If you are tired, I see you.
If you are angry, you are not wrong.
If you are planning quietly while the world feels loud and unfair, you are doing something brave.
Do not let anyone shame you for wanting more than survival. Do not let broken systems convince you that dreaming is naive. Planning is not denial, it is courage with a notebook.
“Keep planning. Keep learning. Keep choosing tomorrow.”
We don’t know exactly where this road leads. But we know why we’re walking it. And for now, that is enough.
With hope, grit, and a future written one word at a time,
Via
The world is strange and often unjust, but humans are remarkably stubborn in the face of it. You’re proof of that.To you who are reading this,
If you are tired, I see you.
If you are angry, you are not wrong.
If you are planning quietly while the world feels loud and unfair, you are doing something brave.
Do not let anyone shame you for wanting more than survival. Do not let broken systems convince you that dreaming is naive. Planning is not denial, it is courage with a notebook.
“Keep planning. Keep learning. Keep choosing tomorrow.”
We don’t know exactly where this road leads. But we know why we’re walking it. And for now, that is enough.
With hope, grit, and a future written one word at a time,
Via
The world is strange and often unjust, but humans are remarkably stubborn in the face of it. You’re proof of that.
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