Influences (or Why I Write the Way I Do)

Natalie Goldberg (free-flowing writing)
Clarissa Pinkola Estes (wild woman writing)
Jane Hutchison (direct-to-the-point writing)
Ernest Hemingway (simple words writing)

Wednesday, October 22, 2014


Ay sulit
Sa pagal, tiyaga, pag~intindi
Dai man nakua ang gusto
Nagrarum man pagrukyaw
Sa tao, sitwasyon

Monday, October 20, 2014

By the Window

I don't like window seats. They keep me hemmed in, feeling cornered whether beside is a man or woman. But tonight, I just like to sit by the window and look at the vast unknowable dark beyond. As I think about the Daughter crying over goodbyes back home, and The Man who won't take goodbyes this easy.

I Can't Be this Afraid, but I Am

this blog has always been my refuge.  when i couldn't funnel my frustrations, this post helped me cry, once more. this blog is my escape. with this post, it helped me dream, believe, even for a vision not complete. this blog is a witness of transitions as in this post, i welcome another belief, a final reality.

for now, i hang in the balance of how The Man responds, what he refuses not to do, what he will settle for.  we may start all over again, and rewrite the premise. or we get to pause...and ignore the ending this way.

he is very strong, very real, and very frightful to acknowledge one's feelings for.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Calm before the Kill

in playing tennis, there is a moment before hitting the ball that everything stops. breathing halts, the eye concentrates, and even footwork comes to a standstill. before hitting the ball. the coup de grace. the stillness before the kill. and one gets to a certain calm, a fullness in intent. this is what Coach Rollie emphasizes as the perfect stance, the perfect state before hitting a tennis ball. and i wonder, in what ways does tennis mirror life in such proportion? the calm before the crushing blow, before the final embrace, before the last goodbye.

Thursday, October 16, 2014


The rule is this - for any complaint, there should be a suggested solution. Complain as cool as possible and calibrate depending on need and the situation. Anger has a reason. We can shout as much, scream. If you can hold your breath longer, do so. But do not hesitate to show your fangs.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014


The sound of rain
Men's voices
An intersection
Bald men

Monday, October 13, 2014


Someone who's real, and strong, and here.

Sunday, October 12, 2014

My Place

one good thing about having a place of my own is this --- the freedom to not care about clutter. tennis outfit strewn over the bed, papers and books, the mobile and computer just lying in wait on the red sofa. the garbage bag just by the door will be thrown later and the floor, what would a few food bits, fallen hair and a dust load from last week do to make this place ugly?  this is still home for me. home where i can just be me.

Friday, October 10, 2014

I Don't Want to Die (Part 2)

i was about to read Joan Nelson's article on the 'political salience' of the poor, until i discovered that, by working on the thesis on two computers, inconsistencies are about to happen and yes, that article is not in my humble but ever reliable Acer laptop.

so begrudgingly, i had to work on chapter 4. ugh, i just wanted to read, i thought.

so to start a lazy unworked engine which is this mind, i opened the word file with the aim of just editing, rearranging the chapter headings --- just what a truly lazy mind could conjure at 430 in the morning, on a friday.

but as i was leafing through the page, and reading snippets of what i wrote, 2 years ago, the writing came to make sense. forgive the narcissism, but the writing, the analysis was alright. worthy of publication, worthy of being laid out into the open. worthy of release from this baul, this chest of writings filed in a folder.

the writing gave me another reason to exclaim, within, 'i don't want to die!' i don't want to die out on this thesis.

and so a mundane, totally routine task of just opening a chapter, starting for the heck of it, revealed the shiny grain of wisdom that a thesis, if you believe in it, and the writing you invested in it, is worth doing and sacrificing for, as one 'dies' everyday in lost opportunities of sleep, of working on other deadlines, or just letting be in bed.

this thesis is part of my life. part of the reason why i wake up, and breathe, and still find joy amid the everyday struggles of being a long-distance mom and selling dams for a living. i don't want to die. i just don't want to die and not finish this thesis.

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Survival Mode

just signed off Chapter 3. and just like any other chapter edited and sent off with a significant gap in time to the supe, i am faced with trepidation that she will again find more errors in it than the previous draft, and her latest reading.

i wonder how i'm going to tell the supe? about the 'good enough' thesis idea? she won't be here till january next year and i prefer talking to her about it face-to-face. will skype do? will she listen?

i am battling for the survival of this thesis as work has become unstoppable and, a bit, unforgiving. i aim to finish next year. I will be Dr. Valenzuela next year.