Sasha Munchkin. We loved her the moment we saw her.      A name that took us a day to decide on. We got her January   31, 2015, picked up from an online seller. She was so tiny,    she came in a Zesto box, even if she was three months old.

She was a sweet bunny. Shy at first, but calm. After an hour with her, she got comfortable enough to explore the house, and the first thing she checked was us, nudging her nose on our feet, our knees. This became a habit, after she got out of wherever she was, she would nudge us first then continue her exploring elsewhere.

Even Chester Buko, our first rabbit, loved her on sight. We separated their living areas as we were waiting for him to get spayed, and of course she was very little and could not go too much playing with him, while he could be very excitable about things.

She was a sweet little lady, and liked bananas. Smart, she found a way out of whatever she was being kept, and found herself inside the hay box to eat, a lot (although, as in the photo, it was hard for her to get out).

Our baby left us too soon on February 14, 2015. We heard her cry and she left us 15 minutes later. She was buried under a tree, so she could enjoy the sun and the smell of grass.

I am sure she is playing with Eho, our other bunny now, nudging her nose to him. We miss you Munchkin. We’re sorry we couldn’t have you for longer.

Lately I’ve been thinking about endings. They say everything looks better in hindsight, but this is not something I agree with. I think everything looks better in hindsight only if you’re sad. If it feels right, then you see what ended clearly. What it was, what it wasn’t. And to quote a colleague in a phrase I heard the past several months quite often, “It is what it is.”.

Life will never be perfect. Something will always be a little bit off. You may be extremely happy, yes, and content with what you have, but it will never be 100% going your way. It just takes your choices and outlook to see if you’re good with the life you’re living.

So I ask myself these questions every so often. Enough to nudge myself if something is not quite right, and move myself from where I am if it’s not.

So dear reader, tell me:

Are you staying with something or someone because it’s what you want, or it’s what’s comfortable? Is it really where you see your life going? Do you think you contribute? Is it enough for you to be comfortable and good?

Or do you want more? Are your feet itching to take a leap of faith? Do you need a new challenge, or get yourself out of the rut you’ve been in for some time now?

And that’s why I find myself facing another ending, with something I never thought I’d say goodbye to. I am leaving my current work as a Christmas elf and finding what it is that makes me happy. It is a flying leap of faith, but it feels right, real, and time to go. I no longer want to feel uninspired and want to devolve into phoning in to a job that deserves much more. To contribute to a place that needs me, and makes the bone tired feeling that isn’t shaking off so far, worth it.

I will miss the people I have come to love not just as colleagues but as dear friends. The people that make the heavy, just a little bit lighter when you laugh off the absurd things that you need to deal with day to day. The people that I’ve shared a career with, from writer to email agent to senior supervisor at something I absolutely had no experience with before. I am grateful for the opportunities given to me, and amazed at how quick these almost 5 years have been with them, and hoping that those who will want to stay, will stay.

I am leaving a changed person, and I am hoping a better one, and the next adventure, I hope it’s awesome.

Gambling. It’s been on my mind lately, maybe because I’ve been in the Thunderbird Rizal resorts casino twice the past week, but also because of what’s happening in my life. I won’t go into too much detail right now, but to say, the future is not as I thought it’d be a few months before this one.

I am not a fan of casinos. Mostly because I never win. I don’t know how to play the games, and the slots never give me back anything. The air is filled with smoke and the food is just okay. It’s an environment built to make you want to concentrate on playing, and when you’re not there to play, it can be difficult to have fun.

Except for maybe a few places that offer other distractions adjacent to the casino. When we’re there, I usually head to the poolside to enjoy a bite to eat and a few drinks to while away the time, sit and read.

Sometimes I go in to people watch. The people who enjoy gambling fascinate me. While everyone knows that the house always wins, it doesn’t stop them, they will keep playing the game, lose thousands of pesos in an hour, while away the day (and night) sitting in front of a screen or dealer, unsure whether their bank account will be wiped out or get more money in without a lick of work in.

It’s a risk isn’t it, because the luck of the draw can make or break you. There is only a certain degree of control in the play, and most of the time, it’s what you’re dealt that will challenge you to come up with your next move, and how you react to it will show what you’re made of.

Cue the obvious metaphor for life. Who except the big guy up there knows what the next thing is, who can predict what life will hand you next? Everything is a gamble because there isn’t any predicting what will come next, and you can only control how you deal with it, and react to the changes you’re served.

That’s what I feel lately. Like this gamble in my life is still keeping its cards to the chest, and that life is yet to show me that this reshuffling is a good thing or bad. It’s a risk, and I’m happy to go with it.

What’s your gamble?

Say hello to Chester Buko. A rabbit that is smart, stubborn and *almost* as much of a greedy eater as my old rabbit Eho.

He makes my day. He is always quiet. He loves carrots and bananas, and likes his apple wood chews. He likes plopping down under the desk when he’s out of his cage. And he lives in a pink cage because he is gender comfortable in any color.

That is your moment of cute for the day. If those eyes don’t make you melt, I don’t know what will.

1-1-2015. Today, like all January firsts of our lives, are when we feel most hopeful. It feels like a clean start, like the date changing is an opportunity to change and be better. I am sure the resolutions will be quiet but worked on for at least the first couple of weeks. Fitness, career and personal goals will be defined. People will be generally “more” on all aspects (Insert holiday weight joke here).

I have to admit I do feel that this time of the year, and somehow, like 90% of people, I tend to sit back and not work at what I want as much by the time February comes around.

So the goal is general this year, and I am borrowing from a friend, who borrowed it from his friend.

This year I will be moving mountains.

What will you be doing this year? What goals are on the docket?

A thought came over me today, as I was hugging a colleague goodbye. Touch. We as a culture, are very careful about it. We’re not a touching culture. Shaking hands, hugging, are foreign concepts to us, that we took on when we absorbed other cultures and became more global.

And I get it. We’re very conservative. The Catholic roots, the idea of propriety and the horror of a misconstrued gesture. Of jealous husbands or wives seeing their significant other with their arm around a friend and thinking there must be something funny going on. Even standing too close can be the start of an argument, since it’s not just their eyes that they’re thinking about, but others’ as well.

I am not very touchy. I do not like doing the “beso” that comes with greeting almost strangers because it feels a little strained. My handshake is quite limp for not shaking hands until I’m offered one. I pick the people I touch to be honest, because I think this is something that should not just be for the sake of social niceties, but a respect of personal space.

I think we can benefit from touch though. There is nothing like getting hugs from a friend you’ve missed and not seen for a while. That feeling of sitting next to your grandmother as you sit and eat a meal together. Your favorite uncle’s arm around you, asking about how you’re doing. It’s a comfort that comes with talking, and when well done, helps us connect and have memories that are multidimensional, since we not only know the roughness of their palm, but their distinct scent, cologne mixed with a hint of sweat after cooking a meal, or that fresh, just got off the bath and jumped into the car smell.

So I am now finding the balance for the standoffish way I can be with other people, without invading people’s comfort, and it being a thoughtful, nice gesture each time. Being more comfortable with doing so in our family, where we aren’t the type.

So what do you think about touch?