My Relationship with Ambition

There was a time when I thought the goal was to find a dream job. I remember that moment clearly when I joined PayMongo and felt like I had finally broken into the tech world. It was remote, exciting, and filled with driven people. I was using a MacBook instead of a Lenovo ThinkPad, and that detail stuck with me. I don't know why, but that small shift felt like proof that I had made it somewhere. I was surrounded by like-minded people who wanted to grow, and it didn't feel lonely.

After my 9-to-5, I'd jump straight into a software engineering bootcamp. At night, I'd study stock trading. I was helping out with a side project where the PayMongo co-founders were investing in startups, and I'd contribute however I could. I didn't make any money from it. I was doing it because I wanted to learn, help, build, contribute, and somehow be admired. Be useful. Part of me wanted to be someone others in the startup community could look up to. That desire was real.

The peak of that era was when I co-founded a Web3 startup and we raised several million dollars in venture funding. We had a nice office at WeWork. I had the co-founder title. I worked with smart, talented people. And yet I couldn't figure out what we were actually trying to build. I wanted to care, but I couldn't find the deeper meaning in the day-to-day. I was more excited about the idea of being a co-founder than I was about the problem we were solving. I kept trying to think deeply about the work, but it was hard when the work didn't really speak to me. It felt like I was going through the motions, doing things that sounded impressive but didn't feel grounded.

What came next were three years that changed everything. I was 25 when I left that Web3 job, and those years until I turned 28 were some of the most challenging and rewarding of my life. I started a couple of export businesses, distributing products from the Philippines to the US. I tried to build an NFT project, a Web3 community that I had no idea how to run. I found myself working with another Web3 company along the way. 

Along the way, I caught up with Leandre, who was my batchmate in Ateneo. We tried to experiment with a bunch of different things. Too many to mention. But one example, just to share how crazy we were, was using satellite imagery to predict rice crop yield. Because of this, he became such a huge part of my journey and has helped me a lot in growing to the kind of person that I am now.

But here's the thing about those three years: most of these things didn't succeed in the way I wanted them to. They didn't get me the financial rewards I expected. I kept trying and trying, and for a time, several times actually, I felt like quitting. I felt like an utter failure. Several times, I was ready to give up. I struggled so much during this period. I was figuring things out on my own, freelancing, trying different ideas, surrounding myself with people who were also on their own journey of growing. I felt like I was finally becoming an adult, but it came with watching my parents age while I was learning who I actually was, not who I thought I should be. The struggles were real, but so was the growth.

Then, in the last year of those three years, something shifted. I was able to find a good paying job at a tech company in the US. I also set up a small business that became profitable. After years of experimenting, I finally had a taste of things actually working. It was humbling. The relief was real. I learned so much from these two experiences, and after going through all of that, I realized something important.

I used to struggle with the idea of being discontent because I thought that meant I wasn't grateful. I thought it was wrong to want more when I already had good things. But I've learned that discontent and gratitude can exist together. For me to continue being ambitious, I need to couple it with being grounded. That's what allows me to still be in pursuit of growth while also taking time to walk with my dogs, spend unhurried time with friends, appreciate moments with family, and eat good food without rushing.

Now I don't operate that small business anymore, so I have more free time. I just have my day job, which is in the US time zone, which means after the morning, I have the rest of the day to do other things. My current ambition is pursuing things I want to learn: languages, software engineering, spending time with family and friends, watching movies, even bonding with my partner by watching PBB together. These are the things that matter to me now.

I'd still say I have a dream job today, not because of its prestige, but because of the life it allows me to live. I'm still ambitious, but I'm also grounded. I'm not chasing a title or trying to impress anyone. My ambition now is to continue increasing the time I get to spend with people I love and make that time as meaningful and mindful as possible. It doesn't need to be loud. It just needs to be mine.

Two weeks ago I couldn't code. Today I shipped my first app.

I had to share this with you because something just shifted for me, and I'm still processing what it means.

Two weeks ago, my high school friend who runs an ice cream store asked if I knew any good inventory management apps. He didn't want the usual platforms, and honestly, I couldn't find anything decent either. My first instinct was to just recommend whatever was out there. But then I slept on it, and something wouldn't let it go.

"I'll just build it myself"

I wrestled with this crazy idea of building it myself. I'd tried learning to code before through a bootcamp and didn't really get it. I wasn't confident. My mind immediately went to all the time I'd need to spend just learning the basics, breaking everything down into tiny pieces. It felt overwhelming.

But then something clicked. When I looked back at everything I'd pushed myself to learn (piano, Japanese, other skills) I always had to start from somewhere. What made the difference was having a clear goal, an intended outcome that motivated me. My friend was willing to pay me a few thousand pesos for this solution. But honestly, even if it took me forever, I was willing to do it. This was my chance to learn, help a friend, and actually practice building something real.

Learning in real time

The hardest part wasn't the coding itself, it was figuring out where to start. Most of my work was research, watching YouTube tutorials and consulting friends who are software engineers like Seaver. I took it step by step, one piece of the puzzle at a time. What surprised me most was how fast I could learn when I had focused, undistracted time to work on projects and really dive in. Having dedicated time to step back and not think about it was equally important. When I'd return, everything felt clearer.

But it wasn't all smooth sailing. There were definitely overwhelming moments. I'd hit bugs I couldn't fix and want to give up completely. I sacrificed sleep, weekends, my after-work hours, me-time. My fiancée was incredible through all of this. When I told her what I was working on, she got excited and supported me the whole way.

I was building something to solve a real problem. My friend's store was doing everything with pen and paper (tracking inventory, deliveries, spotting discrepancies and theft). There was no way to catch problems quickly. So I built them a complete system: user login, daily inventory logging, delivery tracking, discrepancy detection, sales reporting. Now they can spot issues almost instantly.

Demo day

Then came the moment I knew it was working. I deployed it to its own website and demonstrated it to my friend. He could log in, use all the functionalities we'd talked about. The look on his face... wow. I was exhilarated. He even commented on the design, said he was impressed.

That's when it hit me: I actually built this. From nothing to something that solves a real problem.

Something unlocked

I feel completely different now. Empowered. More confident. It's like I unlocked something I didn't know was possible. Programming always seemed incredibly difficult (I'd tried multiple times before and hit that wall). But breaking through that limiting belief changed how I approach learning everything now.

I've never felt so alive building something that actually matters. This isn't about becoming an employed software engineer, it's about building software for businesses, marrying my business background with technical skills to solve real problems.

The path forward

I'm scared because this path feels unfamiliar. But what excites me most is that I'm at the cusp of creating things. I love the process of building. Success looks like generating $5,000 a month in revenue in the short term. That's what I'm going for.

This feels like the beginning of something big. I want to keep practicing, keep building, turn this from a weekend project into something real. There are so many small businesses wanting to digitize their operations, and I think I found where I fit.

Thanks for letting me share this moment with you. It means everything to have people who understand why this matters. If you know any small businesses still doing things manually, send them my way. I'm just getting started.

P.S. The best part? I can't believe I almost didn't try.

My Time at P&G (And Why Corporate Wasn't Actually Terrible)

Lately I've been having a lot of conversations with younger people who are deciding what career path to pursue. Some are questioning whether corporate is worth it, others are asking me directly why I left P&G, why I moved to where I am now. The questions always sound like they expect me to trash corporate life or confirm their worst fears about it.

Since I left corporate and now work remotely for a US startup doing AI stuff, basically living the exact dream I had before I even joined P&G, I think it might seem like I left because something was wrong with corporate life. Like maybe it was toxic or meaningless or whatever.

That's not really the story though.

What Corporate Actually Gave Me

The main thing I remember from my P&G days isn't stress or office politics. It's friendship. The people I met there are still some of my most important relationships, and that's not something I expected going in.

P&G is this really well-built system. Everything has a process, a reason, a structure. And before you think that sounds soul-crushing, these systems actually exist to help you do good work and grow. The structure isn't there to control you. It's there so you can focus on learning and getting better at what you do.

I was always curious, always wanting to try new things, and P&G actually fed that. My role gave me opportunities to travel, work on different projects, solve new problems. It kept me interested because there was always something new to discover.

The People Who Shaped How I Work

James was my manager and still the best boss I've ever had. Smart guy, but also just fun to be around. He taught me this idea: "Always begin with the end in mind." I still use that when I'm trying to solve problems.

There was this one time I completely overslept and showed up two hours late. I was so tired I kept declining his calls without even realizing it was him. James didn't yell or make a scene. He just pulled me aside and said, "This isn't acceptable." The worst part wasn't even getting in trouble. It was knowing I'd disappointed someone I really looked up to.

But here's the thing. After that day, nothing changed between us. He kept mentoring me, kept pushing me to get better at communicating. Before working with James, I used to just word-vomit my ideas everywhere. He helped me actually make sense when I talked.

Audrey trained me and was brutal about it. Always quizzing me, always calling out my nonsense. We had these crazy sales targets during training, and she never let me slide when I missed them. I remember this one store visit where she was watching me work, and I spotted a missing product really quickly. She got so excited about it that she bought me Potato Corner afterward.

That's when we actually became friends. Once training was over, she turned out to be hilarious and we bonded over our shared love of snacks.

Ash was like the older brother of our group. That day I came in late and felt terrible about myself, he came over and said something like, "Everyone screws up. Just move on and do better. Nobody's going to remember this anyway."

I think about that whenever I mess up at work now.

Ralph was probably my closest friend there. He taught me so much, not just work stuff, but life stuff too. Like how to actually save money and be smart with finances. He'd give me the most honest advice about navigating the company. Everyone loved Ralph because he was just genuinely good: generous, smart, hardworking, but also completely down to earth. Ralph and I used to joke about being cheapskates even though we made decent money.

We were proud of it.

Sharlene was the one who organized all our lunches. Always Korean barbecue around BGC. This was when Zomato Gold was new and had all these buy-one-get-one deals, so we'd use our meal allowances and go crazy. One time at K-Pub, there was karaoke happening and Sharlene just got up and sang "Rolling in the Deep." She was basically taunting the actual performer to keep up with her.

And there were so many other people I didn't even get to talk about properly. Jon helped me organize my thoughts and was like a semi-manager for most of my time there. Nikko and Monchai from product supply, Sab from finance, Pat who was my last manager. All of them were so generous about teaching me things. Sales tactics, how to crunch data, how to sell ideas to customers, just how to be organized and good at the job.

Looking back now, many of these people have moved on to completely different paths. Some are parents now, some became content creators, others started their own businesses. Watching them thrive in their own unique ways has been genuinely inspiring and made me realize how much my own career has shifted since those days.

But the foundation they helped me build is still there.

What The Work Was Actually Like

The job was hard. Really hard. Lots of number crunching, data analysis, managing budgets, creating promotions, working with brand managers on campaigns. It pushed me to my limits some days, but it was also really satisfying when things worked out.

The best parts were our out-of-town trips. Whenever we had store openings in places like Bacolod or Davao, we'd stay for days, working together, planning events, doing direct sales. But we'd also eat together, stay up late planning, and just hang out. That's where a lot of the friendships really developed.

One random highlight: a brand manager chose my face to put on an Oral-B display in stores. Still makes me laugh thinking about it.

What I Actually Learned

The biggest thing P&G taught me is that the people you work with matter more than almost anything else. If your teammates are cool, supportive, and fun to be around, even the hardest work feels manageable.

I had mentors everywhere. People who genuinely wanted me to succeed, whether that meant getting promoted or just doing well on a project. That kind of environment makes everything better.

Why I'm Writing This

I'm not trying to convince anyone that corporate is the only way or even the right way for everyone. I mean, I'm literally proof that there are other paths. But if you're thinking about corporate, or if you're already there and feeling discouraged by all the negative stuff you hear online, just know that it can actually be really good.

The friendships I made at P&G are still some of the most important relationships in my life. They remind me how valuable it is to have genuine connections at work, wherever that work happens to be.

Whether you end up in corporate, at a startup, freelancing, or doing your own thing entirely, what matters is finding people and environments that help you grow and make the work feel worthwhile.

Both can work. Both can be fulfilling. And both can teach you things about work and life that you'll carry with you forever.

while there’s still time

Last Saturday, after clay shooting, a friend and I shared a car ride home.
He told me his mom is ill.
He said, "If you think of my time as 100%, a huge chunk already belongs to taking care of my mom."
The time left for himself was small.
He chooses carefully how he spends it.
He does not waste it.

It stayed with me.

I used to fill my days with sixteen hours of work.
I worked through weekends.
I thought it was something to be proud of.
I wore it like a badge.
I thought using time meant squeezing everything out of it.

Now, I want to live differently.
I want to be choiceful too, even if I am not forced to be yet.

My parents are in their seventies.
I see it in the way they move.
I hear it in the way they ask for small things.

I have been craving more time with them.
Sometimes it looks like buying medicines and making sure they follow their prescription schedule.
Sometimes it is listening to my dad tell the same story for the fiftieth time, and answering with the same curiosity as if I am hearing it for the first time.
Sometimes it is driving my dad all the way to Cavite on a Sunday afternoon, to visit the wake of a relative he loved.
Sometimes it is teaching my mom how to switch her K-dramas to Tagalog dub, so she can laugh and cry without reading subtitles.
Sometimes it is sending load through GCash so they have data when they leave the house.
Sometimes it is ordering a charger they need, or buying something random for them on Shopee.
Sometimes it is a simple prayer whispered over the phone when one of them says they have a headache.

The moments are not grand.
They are small, easy to miss.
But they are the ones I want to remember.

My favorite has been the prayers.
I call just to pray for them.
Sometimes they cry tears of joy.
I never knew how much these small things would mean to me.

I do not know how many afternoons I have left with them.
I do not know how many more times I can pray for them and hear their voices.
I do not know how many more times I can hear them laugh.
I do not know how many more small things I will get the chance to give.
But I know it will never be enough.


ANT

Two years ago, my older brother told me about Anthony Edwards.

He’s been a die-hard NBA fan since the Jordan era. Grew up with Allen Iverson posters on the wall. These days, he’s a church pastor who still trades basketball cards like a kid. Ant Man is his latest obsession. He even has a shelf at home where Ant’s cards sit like trophies.

When I visited him in Canada, he showed me the collection.

I didn’t know much about Anthony Edwards back then. But the way my brother talked about him made me curious.

I started watching interviews. Highlights. Sometimes a live game when I could. But mostly the interviews. The way Ant carried himself stuck with me.

He spoke with the kind of confidence that could easily sound cocky if you missed the heart underneath. He respected the game. He respected people. He just never once doubted who he was.

At the time, I wasn’t feeling great about myself. I didn’t realize it, but I needed someone like him.

When Ant faced Kevin Durant in the playoffs, someone he looked up to and idolized, he didn’t flinch. He played like he belonged. Watching that gave me something I didn’t know I was missing.

I don’t play basketball. But Ant taught me something real. You can admire the greats, and still become one yourself.

You just have to believe it first.

I was bullied in Grade 7

Hey, you know what I was thinking about the other day? Bullying.

I got bullied pretty bad in 7th grade. It wasn't some "character-building" experience like people claim. It actually held me back for years.

Picture this: I'm just being me, trying hard in school, when suddenly this group of jocks starts targeting me. For what? Being the nerd teachers liked. That was my crime.

It got so bad I ended up standing in a circle of them one day, actually apologizing—and I didn't even know what for. I just wanted it to stop.

That changed me. I stopped trying so hard after that. I dimmed my light. Just did enough to stay under the radar.

What brought this all back was watching Pinoy Big Brother recently. This contestant, Mika Salamanca, got ranked lowest for "authenticity" because people were spreading opinions about her behind her back. She had no idea until she got hit with the aftermath.

That's actually the worst kind of bullying, you know? Not the obvious stuff. It's when someone builds a case against you without your knowledge. When the room suddenly turns cold and you don't know why.

It's everywhere now—cancel culture, call-outs, digital pile-ons. People don't even recognize it as bullying. They call it "sharing opinions." But when those opinions are meant to isolate someone? That's harm, plain and simple.

I can't bring myself to cancel anyone because, honestly, I know how flawed I am. It reminds me of that story about Jesus and the woman they wanted to stone. "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone." Nobody threw one.

If you're being bullied right now, I want you to know: I believe in you. In your right to take space. In your capacity to grow.

What impressed me most about Mika was her grace. No cursing, no hateful response. Just dignity.

And if that's you—responding with dignity when others try to tear you down—I'm rooting for you. Even when it feels like the world's against you, at least one person is cheering you on.

Because you deserve that. You really do.

What I learned from my birthdays

You won't believe what happened on my birthday this year.

So my 28th just passed, and I planned this super casual lunch with my two closest friends. Guess what? Both called in sick. On my actual birthday!

But here's the weird thing - I wasn't even upset. Actually found it kind of funny.

It took me back to when I turned 13. That was a whole different story.

I was SO pumped about finally being a teenager. Dad went all out - rented tables, chairs, even hired caterers. I sent all these invites, waited all day... and nobody showed. Just my niece and nephew eventually came by, no clue they were walking into an empty party.

That one hurt. Bad.

For years after, birthdays became this weird test. Would people show up? Did they even care? I'd downplay everything, telling myself "it's not about the party" while secretly hoping someone would prove me wrong.

Fast forward 15 years to this latest birthday. Same situation, totally different feeling.

The big difference? I finally get it:

Real friendship isn't about attendance - it's about intention.

Those two friends who couldn't make it? I know they love me. Their absence wasn't rejection - just life happening.

Maybe that's what all those empty tables were teaching me. How to sit comfortably with myself. How to be my own best friend.

Like Whitney Houston said (my kindergarten principal used to sing this before class, no joke): "Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all."

Honestly? That's been the best birthday gift.

Why I enjoy being the dumbest in the room

So I had this weird realization the other day that I wanted to share with you...

I've actually started enjoying being the dumbest person in the room. Seriously!

Remember that house dance class I mentioned I was going to try? I went, and it was exactly as awkward as you'd expect. I was completely lost - wrong moves, wrong timing, basically a walking disaster compared to everyone else.

But here's the thing - instead of getting embarrassed and leaving, I stayed. And I kind of loved it.

It reminded me of when I started learning piano last year. I was determined to play that Chopin nocturne, even though my fingers felt like wooden sticks. I practiced an hour every day for six months straight. Sounded like a cat walking across keys at first! But eventually, something clicked. I wasn't just hitting notes - I was actually making music.

The secret? Just push through the part where you suck. That's it.

I did the same thing at this Japanese language meetup last week. First half was in English - easy. Second half switched to Japanese and I was DROWNING. But instead of checking out mentally, I leaned in. Paid attention to exactly what I didn't understand. Tried speaking anyway, even when I knew I'd mess up.

By the end of the night, I'd connected with a tutor and had a clear map of what I needed to learn next.

That's when it hit me: Being the dumbest person in the room isn't humiliating - it's exactly where growth happens.

I'm doing this with everything now. Even listening to scientists discuss quantum physics and consciousness when I barely understand half the terms.

The trick is just to stay. Don't retreat when you feel stupid. Enjoy that discomfort.

Because every single time I've done that, I've come out speaking a new language - whether it's piano notes, dance moves, Japanese phrases, or simply understanding something that used to be completely over my head.

Kind of addictive once you get past the initial awkwardness, you know?

Morality Beyond “Don’t Be an Asshole”

A person very dear to me once told me that morality could be summed up in one simple rule: “Just don’t be an asshole.” At first, I nodded along, because—yeah, fair enough. If everyone just followed that, life would be a lot smoother. It’s an easy moral guideline, clean and concise, something you can carry in your pocket and pull out in any situation.

But the more I thought about it, the more it started to unravel.

What happens when your decisions don’t just affect a few people, but hundreds, thousands, or even millions? What if you’re in a position where every choice has cascading effects, creating ripples you can’t even predict? The problem with “just don’t be an asshole” is that it assumes morality is about avoiding harm rather than actively pursuing good. And in high-stakes situations, in leadership, in influence, in shaping the world—avoidance is not enough.

I think about that psychological experiment—one of many, really—where you tell kids not to do something, and suddenly, their impulse to do it skyrockets. There’s something inherently flawed about moral frameworks that are framed in the negative, in what not to do, instead of what to pursue. A morality that is passive—designed to avoid the bad—will always be weaker than a morality that is active, one that pushes you to seek, to learn, to engage with the world in a meaningful way.

And that’s where the real work comes in.

The Constant Pursuit of Understanding

If you’re serious about morality, you can’t just pick a single principle and let it sit there like an idle compass. You have to test it, refine it, challenge it—because morality is not a fixed point. It’s a lifelong pursuit.

That means studying religions, not just one, but many—seeing how different cultures and philosophies have tackled the questions of good and evil. It means diving into history, philosophy, psychology, not because you need to agree with everything, but because the broader your lens, the sharper your judgment. You can’t navigate the complexity of moral decision-making with a single, rigid framework. You need depth, nuance, and range—a kind of intellectual flexibility that allows you to see the full spectrum of ethical thought.

This is especially true for anyone who aspires to wield influence. The bigger the stage, the greater the weight of your moral calculus. The decisions of an ordinary person can afford to be simple. The decisions of a leader cannot.

The Two Moral Rules: Proactive vs. Passive

And then there’s the contrast between the two “Golden Rules” of morality—the ones attributed to Jesus and Confucius:

  1. Jesus: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
  2. Confucius: “Do not do unto others what you would not want done to you.”

The difference is subtle but profound. One is proactive. The other is protective. One pushes you to create good, while the other tells you to avoid causing harm. Neither is superior; they are tools for different seasons, different dilemmas.

But I find myself drawn to a morality that balances both—one that actively seeks to make things better, rather than just sidestepping wrongdoing. Because life is not a series of moral landmines you have to avoid stepping on. It’s a field you have to learn to cultivate.

A Morality That Prepares You for Influence

At the end of the day, morality—at least the kind that matters in the long run—can’t just be about not being an asshole. That’s the baseline, the starting point. The real work is in constantly refining your understanding, exposing yourself to new perspectives, and developing a moral framework that is adaptive, thoughtful, and proactive.

Because when the time comes, and you find yourself in a position where your choices shape the lives of many—you’ll realize that “don’t be an asshole” is simply not enough. You’ll need something deeper, something sharper. And the only way to prepare for that moment is to start building it now.

This Morning, I Danced

There are moments in life when you don’t just exist—you live. This morning was one of them.

I woke up in a space that was quiet, entirely my own. No obligations, no expectations. Just me, the morning light, and the kind of sound system that deserved to be used at full volume. So, I did.

Bruno Mars, Michael Bublé, the Bee Gees—I let them in, filling the space with rhythm, nostalgia, and the kind of joy that shakes something loose inside you. And then, without hesitation, I danced.

I danced like the main character in a Disney movie opening scene. I danced like my life had just begun. And maybe, in some ways, it had.

For so long, life has been measured in decisions, responsibilities, and the next steps. Today, it was measured in movement, in breath, in the feeling of my body keeping time with something greater than myself. It wasn’t just happiness—it was something deeper. A reclamation. A reminder. A realization that no matter what has happened, no matter what will happen, I am here. And being here is enough.

There’s something about dancing that makes you feel alive in the truest sense. It forces you into the moment. No past, no future—just now. And if now is all we really have, then I want to fill mine with music, movement, and moments like this.

And beyond the music, beyond the dancing, there was something more—a shift. A new energy, a pulse of inspiration that stretched beyond just today. It carried into everything: the way I see my work, the way I make decisions, the way I am stepping into a life that is truly mine. The world is moving, and I am moving with it.

This morning, I danced. And in doing so, I lived.