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, August 31, 2011


fr. jerry orbos related the story in one homily about love. it was about an experiment on two babies, one separated by the mother and given the best that hospital care and technology had to offer in terms of food, 24-hour attention, adequate ventilation. the other baby was left to the care of the mother, also in hospital. the sad ending was, the baby nurtured by artificial forms of love died (which makes me think what a ghastly and unethical experiment it is to sacrifice the death of a child!) while the other one lived. 

on the emotional side, my life here seems to be that of a baby dying under artificial forms of love, in a country that is not mine. indeed the air is fresher, the skies more blue. i have none to ask in terms of material comfort and studying with a scholarship provides perks and less financial worry for an international student. but as i've told the hubby last night, i feel like i'm thinning out inside. i feel like my herbs who without my daily touch on their stems and leaves, and water that sieves through my fingers, they die or in danger of it. i need my family - my daughter and my hubby, and my whole family, imperfect and rowdy they may be at times. i need laughter in the air. i need smiles enough to brighten a gray sky. i need the touch of love, from forms that the senses can feel to the tug in my heart from gestures unexpected. i need to be home. i long for home.

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