After So Long

I would like to say thank you in advance to you for reading my blog. I appreciate the fact that you have taken the time to read this new post, with me taking this blog site foregranted. So sorry about this.

I haven’t been too keen on writing for myself for the last several months. I have a somewhat long-term web writing stint, and all my creative juices are being sucked and exhausted for that project. Needless to say, I miss writing freestyle, and I can only do so by writing in my blog.

To get my words to come out, I always run for a small “me time” I my garden. I would  stand there being a voyeur and peek beneath the petals of the flowers of my plants. I love peeking beneath the blooms to see my tomato fruits slowly develop, and to admire the sharp contrast of dark violet anthers against pristine white petals of my jalapeño flowers. I often spend 30-45mins just standing in my garden, staring at my plants and feeling the leaves. As if my staring woulf force my plants to develop any faster.

Aside from the occasional garden visit,  I am also taking care of my daughter. Boy, was I glad that I am a part-time work-at-home-mom because she suddenly had a severe allergic (not anaphylactic, thank you, God), reaction from an insect bite. If I would be working, I would be on my way home when she had the attack. I would be beside myself in panic because no one in the house is capable of handling such crisis.

Now, after being frozen let’s see just how far I can take my freelancing blog.

Until then, and cheers to you for sticking by.


The Next Level

There is this post shared on facebook about why there are math achievers, and how others do not excell in math because of their firm  belief that these whiz kids were genetically gifted with a scientific calculator wired in their brains. Sadly, I am one of them. I believed with a passion that these math geniuses were simply gifted because they make math seem effortless. In fact, I believe still that succesful singers, musicians, and writers get to where they are now because they have talent – something that I wish I have. Large, juicy chunks of it.

Emotionally Frozen??

I haven’t written much since my grandmother’s death. I could not write anything that is free-flowing and natural like I naturally do in this blog when I started writing again. I can take care of my gardening blog every once in a while, but the thing is, that blog is easy for me. It’s technical and does not warrant much personal and professional sharing of experiences that put me out there just like this blog does.

Have I become frozen for a while because of grief? Or is it because I’m doing part-time writing again with my boss that I am running out of ideas and insights to write for myself? Or is it having two professionals looking into my blog that gets me all frozen? Performance anxiety? Burn out? I have no idea.

The only consolation that I have is that I am still writing, even though it is not for me. But even I can sense the emotional barrier, and the preference to go on like a robot or a text book.

Ironically, the Oscar Winning musical score Let It Go won’t do on my frigid state. I want to let go, but then… what should I let go of?

I Wish I Have An Oak

I used to love writing on my tablet when I got my WordPress App. But after 2 gardening posts and getting half the thought of my blog for this site trashed (app did not opt to save when I tapped “back”), I discovered that my finger tapping cannot keep up with my thoughts. And since my husband is using the computer, my next recourse is to use my sketchpad and a pencil. I like the pencil better because I can erase my mistakes. I use my sketchpad to serve as a visual.

I long to have a tree as ancient as this one as a companion for writing. I am so full of nerves, pressured over my work, my responsibilities to my family, and my obligation to help my mother, as well as my sense of self-preservation. I know I can push myself to do all of these things. I know I am capable; what I am fearing is the aftermath. I once took on this superwoman role, only to find myself bedridden because of vertigo, headache, nausea, and overall body weakness.

I wish to gain back such strength, such stamina. My boss needs me for work, my daughter needs me to take care of her, and my mom only has me to watch out for her apartment.

I wish I can do more, people want me to do more.

Should I?

I wish I have an oak….


Follow Your Heart


I hate to admit it, but seeing my daughter make her sketches using her new charcoal pencil made me want to go back to casual sketching again. I practiced with pencil strokes, tried making a face, and then just let my hand do what it wants to do.

As much as I want to take interest in pencil sketching, it does not spark an intense longing and satisfaction as writing, or any other venture I have taken. More

Goodbye, Grandmother


My grandmother passed away Sunday morning around 8:30am. She passed away peacefully, a relief to all of us because she’s been suffering for almost 10 years.

I do not know how to pay tribute to someone who has done a lot for her children and grandchildren. I never had the privilege of growing up with my grandmother, and I never got to know what it’s like to have a workaholic yet caring grandmother.

And I never knew the pain and confusion my cousins have felt when they saw our active grandmother start suffering from the effects of Alzheimer’s.

I wish I can really write about her. But maybe my memories of her were not enough, and I do not have that close relationship with her. I guess there are just things that a writer cannot write; and for me this is one of them.

Rest in peace, Lola. I pray that you are in a better place. We will all miss you.

Write If You Want To Write

I can’t remember who said it and where I read it. But what I remember was that there was a man asking a famous writer if he can be a writer. The writer then said, “If you wake up one morning and the first thing that you think about is writing, then you already are a writer.”

It stuck to me because I wanted to be a writer ever since high school. But I never got that compulsion to write that it was the first thing I wanted to do and think about first thing in the morning.


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