Blog

Thoughts, art, fiction, and the things that hold.

The 2020s

Cambridge, motherhood, the novel, and coming back to the page.

For Mark
A tiger drawn at sixteen, carried for almost thirty years.
Updates from a middle aged life
Middle age is rough, guys.
The 2026 obligatory new year post
Lessons, resolutions, goals.
Blooming through neglect
I neglected my garden after this year's first flush.
Two kinds of creative women, generally
Prose and posies.
The why-Neil Gaiman-why post
When lifelong pedestals collapse.
Motherhood, etc
The love comes after.

For ___

Letters to people who mattered, whether or not they knew it.

I—
I remember you in my purple room.
For the record, you silly fool
You silly fool.
If Henry says it, it must be true
A snapshot taken in heartfelt, viscous prose.
For the Pretty One
You know who you are.
For whatever it may be worth
Because some things need saying.
For Kyra
A letter to a sister.
For John
He let me go. And he made it look so easy.
Damnit, I dreamt about you again
It isn't fair for you to haunt me this way.
For the ex, part deux
One last post from the ex series.
For J
Do you remember how you wrote my name in the sand?
To Gabriel
As if I had never been there at all.

Essays

On language, leaving, identity, and the spaces between.

From my notebook: London, friends, post-birthday sentimentality
Sometimes, you find a place in the world where you can just step in.
This is what happens when you read Junot Diaz
I am between the lines.
Solecism, etc
You have such a unique voice, it's almost like a different kind of English.
Life, lately
The last three years of my life have been straight out of a movie.
To my New York
The sappiest love letter to a non-entity.
Confessions and thanks
My writing has sometimes gotten me in trouble.
Leaving et cetera
One out of every seven Filipinos is overseas.
In honor of Assumption Day
Lessons mislearned as a private school girl.
The eighth of August
I don't know what people thought when I dropped off the face of the earth.
Soldier boy
Those who can't teach find no other recourse but to take up the pen.
An exercise in recollection
Ah, the memories you bring with you.
In defense
Where my patriotism is, where my idealism is.

Other memories

Manila, histories, the things we carried from before.

Memories: eighteen
When I was eighteen, I disappeared.
Memories: anting-anting at agimat
Folk magic and the things we believed.
History: comfort women
On November 23, 1944, Japanese soldiers stormed the town of Mapanique.
History: Phil-Am
There was a time when restaurants had signs that said Filipinos and dogs not allowed.
Hello, queso de bola
Love songs aren't pretty when they're lived out.
Says the Fish called Wanda
3 years old. I am twirling around in a yellow dress.