Category Archives: musings

Not Broken, Just a Little Bit Bent

Some laugh, some cry, some become mute and others can’t help but scream; but the depth of what they are feeling is no less than or more than the other. Everyone has their own way of feeling and grieving.

For Filipinos, it has been a devastating week that started the day super typhoon Yolanda stormed across the belly of our beloved Philippines. As in most tragedies, it has brought out the very best and the worst in people. I have been watching, reading and listening to the news because that is all I can do.

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Compassion Got Lost in the Shuffle Again

As a mom, I do believe that a dose of tough love never hurts anyone. I want my daughters, after all, to be able to stand up for themselves and be able to take care of themselves without depending on anyone. But at the same time that I am trying to imbibe them with self-reliance and independence, I also try to open their eyes to the fact that we are all, ultimately, interconnected. That one little action on our part may impact others in ways that we may not even think of. Be mindful, I tell them. Be mindful of your self, of others and the world around you.

Realize that the world is not only that space within your reach and your sight. There are worlds and lives out there that you may never see or know about but somehow impact by your one little action.

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Trayvon Martin Was Not Guilty Either

When the Zimmerman verdict was announced, our niece was in the throes of giving birth. We found out about both events almost at the same time.

I haven’t followed the Zimmerman trial closely, nor do I know all the details of the Trayvon Martin case aside from what I’ve heard on the news yet I can’t help but feel that something is wrong in that whole situation. It’s just a gut feeling I have regardless of what truths either side have presented to be fact.

“Let him go back,” Mr. O’Mara said to the jury, referring to Mr. Zimmerman, “and get back to his life.”

On Saturday, the jury did just that.

~The New York Time article

Maybe both Martin and Zimmerman made mistakes that fatal night. Maybe they were both guilty… or not guilty. The injustice here is that one gets to go back to his life and one doesn’t.

With that news hanging over the good news about the new addition to the family, I can’t help but wonder if one day our niece will be giving the same type of warning to her son as Levar Burton and so many other parents give to their black sons.

Should we dare hope that by the time this young man is of age, that the color of his skin or the type of clothes he wears will no longer matter on how he is perceived and treated by others? Do we dare? Do we hope?

Maybe just love…

Welcome to this world, our new grand-nephew, Kaiden. Please be kind to him.


Missing: the Girl Who Mutilated this Book

When I was in college and had a choice between used and new books, I almost always bought new unless the used book was pristine and unmarked. Before that, I didn’t have a choice. I just had to live through the scribbles and highlights of the previous textbook user. If their name was written on the bookplate, and I knew them, their reputation was taken down a notch in my mind. But after high school, I had a choice and I chose unblemished books.

I admit, I don’t like reading ‘dirty’ books. I like to keep mine as clean as possible. Because of that, I keep meticulous notes in a separate notebook. I am not obsessive about keeping a book clean, mind you. I’ve had lapses when I didn’t have anything else to write on and I just had to make a note on the margin or highlight a passage. The reason I didn’t like books that have been highlighted or marked up when I was in school was not due to any OCD tendencies either, I just didn’t want any spoilers. I want to see a passage and say to myself, ‘Wow! that’s highlight worthy!’ When something triggers a question or thought, I want to be the one to jot it down on my notebook or on the margin. I don’t want other people’s mark ups to influence how I understand or absorb or react to any book.

But I found, in the process of reading Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, that maybe there’s another way of looking at mark ups.

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