Tag Archives: writing

My Great and Simple Birthday

So it’s my birthday today.

Like how most of my friends spend theirs, I am spending my birthday quietly and steadily. (Travel plans with my family are postponed, due to unavoidable circumstances. But hey, at least they aren’t cancelled.) I am driving my daughter to class. I am helping my son with his grammar and multiplication table lessons. I am having reheated spaghetti for lunch. I am thanking my friends for greeting me on Facebook, Viber and Whatsapp. I am cuddling with my not-so-friendly dog. I am writing articles as I wait during my daughter’s football training. I am doing a favorite 15-minute yoga routine at home. I am enjoying a delicious dinner out with my family. I am posting on my blog. I am writing my daily haiku. I am reading a book in bed before falling asleep.

Writing by the Football Field

Today, I am spending my birthday in a great and simple way. No need for parties or fancy celebrations.

I am writing. I am reading. I am eating. I am doing yoga. I am thanking my friends. I am loving my family.

On my birthday, I am grateful.

(P.S. Two daring and out-of-my-comfort-zone things I am doing today: wearing burgundy ballet flats and attempting to draw a hierogram.)

Back to Blogging


Wow, I just realized that I was away from my blog for a month! The last time I posted was on December 10, 2014.

After that last post, I started to feel how hectic and full the Christmas season was, as expected. I decided to give myself a break from blogging, from getting so wrapped up in writing. I decided to give myself time and energy to enjoy the days that would be filled with family, friends, gift and food shopping, driving in traffic, eating, and all the usual holiday trimmings. I decided to spend less time looking down on my computer and more time looking up to see the people, places and things around me.

It was a good month-long hiatus and here I am, back on my laptop. As I look at the post window, as I hear the familiar sound of keyboard typing, I am reminded of why I do this.

I’m back to blogging, and here’s to a bigger and better 2015!

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When Your Words are Remembered

I was recently reminded of my college English classes and of my professor, the late Dr. Doreen Fernandez.  Thanks to two friends and former classmates, I was also reminded of a specific essay that I had written — an essay about the rain. I knew that Doreen had liked it, but I didn’t realize that some of my classmates did too and remember it until now.

I’m fortunate to have had a teacher who not only instructed but also inspired me to write. I am even luckier to have also had classmates around me who shared my love of words and writing and who cheered each other on. I’m sharing this particular essay here and I am dedicating it to my college English classmates who remember and to those who always celebrate their birthdays with the rain.


Rain is falling cham-a-chamIn the midst of clamor, chaos and confusion, there is one bearer of silence and serenity, one which comes in a gentleness with an underlying presence of power. It is a natural phenomenon, hypnotic and affecting the passions of man: this occurrence which we call rain.

The rain which falls from grey skies onto the city streets brings silence. Countless commuters hurry to bus stops and wait for the rain to die down. Busy shoppers and rushing executives desert the sidewalks for shelter in the towering buildings. Children playing in the streets scamper off and into their houses. The once crowded and noisome city becomes quiet and still as the gentle rain pours on.

Many times have I sat by the window and gazed contently at the falling rain. When all else is hushed but the soft pitter-patter on the roof, a cool air of tranquility envelopes me and sinks deep into my being. Suddenly, all mundane matters fade. There is only the meeting of souls — of my quieted, drifting soul and the poignant, whispering soul of the rain.

It was a cold late night when I took a stroll under the drizzle. My companion called me crazy for holding an umbrella and not using it. I didn’t care if I looked crazy or if I would become ill afterward. There was magic and music in the air that evening. Every cold, gentle raindrop that fell upon my skin seemed to send a common message to my brain, my heard, my whole being. I was complacent, walking in silence and cherishing the serenity of the moment. The drizzle stilled my troubled world and gave me time and space to think. The dark skies were weeping with me, giving me time and space to feel. Somehow, the rain was my peace.

Why the rain affects me so, I may never know. In the rain I find soul, life. It makes me think of people, moments, dreams and makes me feel peace, love, sorrow. Indeed, the gentle power of the rain…

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