When Applause Is Quiet, Clap Anyway

 My first ever eBook, something I dreamed about for decades — published on Kindle.

Me. A published freaking author.

Move over, Dr. Seuss. There’s a new immigrant mom in town.

I wanted fireworks. Champagne. At least one person to scream.

Instead… the world didn’t shift. No confetti from the ceiling, not even a slow clap. Just silence.
(Alexa, play “Congratulations” by Post Malone.)

And in that second, something inside me deflated. Because this wasn’t just a book. It was proof. Proof that this 50-something immigrant — someone who once didn’t even know what Google Drive was — could learn, could create, could do something bold and scary and personal.

Then the paperback got approved. And my daughter said:
“Don’t tell anyone anymore. Just let yourself be happy for once.”

So I listened. I didn’t tell a soul. I held that joy close, like a fragile egg I didn’t want cracked by lukewarm reactions or pity “likes.”

But the silence? It still stung. The energy still dropped. More balloons popped.

That’s when it hit me.

Maybe this is like running a business. You can’t expect friends and family to be your first customers. Or your biggest fans. The people who’ll really clap — the ones who’ll get it — might be total strangers. And they’ll only find you if you keep showing up.

So today, let me be the first to clap for myself. Loud. Proud. No shame.

👏 I am a published author.

🇵🇭 I migrated to America alone, no safety net — just a maybe-boyfriend (who later upgraded to maybe-husband).

💪 I became a solo parent of five kids. (Not perfect, but they’re alive and loved.)

🧾 I filed my own immigration papers. No lawyer. Just me, some brain cells and my stubbornness.

🛫 Got my American passport in LA — expedited, because waiting patiently has never been my thing.

🧠 I figured out systems that felt like mazes built for someone else. (Healthcare, SSN, veterans’ benefits, senior care… all in a language and culture I wasn’t born into. But I figured it out.)

📈 I went from managing a medical foundation, to wearing a call center headset, to fraud analyst at one of the world’s biggest banks… then starting over in America — folding sweaters as a holiday hire, until I clawed my way back to assistant manager in less than three years to one of the highest-volume retail stores in the district. (Life plot twists, anyone?) Because survival doesn’t always look like a promotion. Sometimes it looks like reinvention.

👩‍🍳 I learned to cook, bake, and scrub floors — after growing up with an army of house help doing it all for me.

💼 I started businesses with zero capital. Luxury car importer, rent-a-car, fast food joints, government supplier. Some failed, sure — but I started anyway.

🛍️ And now? I have a little shop — yes, with the domain, IP, social handles, and all that shebang I never thought I’d figure out. And I freaking wrote a book.
(Okay fine, it’s a children’s book… but still! Don’t make me write a sequel called “Mommy Needs Wine” just to prove a point.)

So why do I feel like a failure?

Because the world measures worth in paychecks.
Because there are no medals for survival — no trophies for raising kids alone or learning how to flatten a PDF at 2am.
And because sometimes, even after everything, a little voice in my head still whispers: “Maybe it’s not enough.”

I want to cry.
But crying won’t change it.

Clapping might.

To anyone else who has ever done something brave and been met with silence — I see you.

Clap anyway.
For the small wins no one notices.
For the miracles you built in the dark.
For the dreams you’re carrying, even when no one else claps.

Because the truth is: applause is nice. But it’s not necessary.

This is just the beginning.
#WatchThisSpace

📣I am a published author - check it out here: https://www.amazon.com/My-First-Tagalog-Words-English-Tagalog

😎 And a novel is coming — not just any novel...

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🛒 Shop the chaos detox merch https://chucklesanddagger.etsy.com

Why My Halloween Tote Smells Like Adobo

When I first moved here in the U.S., I was fascinated by how seriously Americans take Halloween. I mean, they don’t just put a real pumpkin on the porch—they transform the entire yard into a horror movie set. I used to drive around neighborhoods just to see the decorations, jaw on the floor, thinking: Wow, some people really live for this. 🎃

And then I discovered something even wilder: people dress up and wear their costumes to the grocery store—or really just anywhere. Yup, you’re pushing your cart, picking up tomatoes, and next to you is a full-grown man in a werewolf suit. Or you’re just cruising the freeway and you look in your side mirror and see a witch in a car—not a broom—trying to pass you. 😅

Meanwhile, back home in the Philippines, Halloween is more like the warm-up act. The real holiday is All Saints’ and All Souls’ Day. If you grew up in the Philippines, you know Undas isn’t just lighting a candle and saying a prayer. Nope—it’s a full-blown family reunion in the cemetery. You clean the tombs, bring food, set up tents, and sometimes even blast music. The streets turn into traffic jams because everyone is heading to the same place, arms full of flowers and candles. It’s a whole-day affair, and for some, they even stay the night. Kids run around, titas (aunts) gossip, lolos (grandfathers) tell ghost stories, and yes—at some point, someone steals your melted candles. 😅 It’s chaotic, but it’s one of the holidays everyone actually looks forward to.

Fast forward to me here in the U.S., trying to blend the two worlds. One time, I even joined the fun and dressed up myself. Here’s proof:

Not bad, right? Pinay makeup skills. Honestly, scarier than the candy aisle prices.

And because I can’t help myself, I had to put a Pinoy spin on Halloween merch too. Meet my ADOBOO tote bag—because what’s scarier than running out of rice? 🍚👻

It’s equal parts nakakatakot (scary) and nakakagutom (makes you hungry). Perfect for trick-or-treat candy, grocery runs, or just confusing your American neighbors when they ask, “What’s adoBOO?” (Answer: “Only the national dish of the Philippines, with a spooky twist.”)

And if we’re being honest, adobo is already kind of scary if you think about it. The longer it sits, the stronger it gets. (Like your Tita’s grudges. 😅) And bulalo? That steaming hot bone marrow soup is basically a potion. Perfect for sweater weather in the U.S. or rainy days in Baguio.

So while Americans are carving pumpkins and buying 10-pound bags of candy, Pinoys are preparing pancit for the cemetery potluck. Both cultures celebrate in their own way, and honestly? I love having both. Here, I get to dress up scary, carry my AdoBOO tote, and admire the over-the-top yard setups. Back home, I’d be sitting in my father’s mausoleum, eating lumpia, laughing with cousins, and keeping watch over our candles before they mysteriously disappear.

And maybe that’s what I love most—whether it’s costumes in Target or family picnics in the cemetery, it’s really about finding joy, food, and laughter in traditions that bring people together.

Someday—maybe soon, maybe now—I want to share the actual recipes. Because what’s the point of talking about adobo without teaching you how to make it? (Except I forgot to take a picture of my last batch, kasi I ate it all before remembering. Blogger fail. 😅)

So this Halloween season, whether you’re team candy corn 🎃 or team cemetery pancit 🍲, there’s room for all of it. Just don’t forget your tote bag… and don’t forget to check who’s lurking around your candles. 😉

✨ Want to bring some Pinoy flavor into spooky season? 🎃🍲 Check out my Halloween totes (adoBOO & BOOlalo) now in my Etsy shop → https://www.etsy.com/your/shops/me/tools/listings/section:55242669?ref=seller-platform-mcnav