No matter how often I change courses with this space, it continues to remind me that this isn't for passions or thematic thought vomits. This isn't the place to market or promote, to shout out or recommend. Hell, Stef. What's going on here? I keep returning to my blog wondering if this is really the writing I want to keep or leave behind. I keep reminiscing of the years when writing about the ups and downs of my day was fun and interesting. Now it always feels empty and, well, not ME. I'm really sorry for not taking care of this space. I'm sorry for not writing that which speaks of my truths and my life. If you chose to follow Diwa Daily, thank you, as always, for sticking around. ❤️ The perfectionist in me always feels . . .
Life threw a couple of really nasty curve balls over the weekend, leaving me crying, throwing tantrums, and just feeling absolutely down to the ground. It took many days before I can finally start filling this space again. But knowing that I've made myself promise to write more, I thought it best to break things down and process them as best as I can. Another wake-up call that the virus is real Friday, September 22nd - my best friend's mother passed away. COVID-19 aggravated her pre-existing conditions and took her from us. The last time I messaged, my best friend and her dad were down with the fever and are getting swabbed. It frustrates me that I'm an airplane away and can't even see her to give comfort during such a . . .
Hey, there. Journal, virtual space stamped with my mark—diwa. How heartwarming yet melancholic this feeling of re-entering what was once an intimate and frequented space. I've been silent, and have chosen silence, since Ama's passing and the arrival of our two new furry family members. Time, physical energy, mental strength were not on my side for the most part of 2021. The world became a blurry mess where nothing really mattered but keeping control over the house and family. Friends came and wentFamily members shared updates from their side of the worldSociety scrambled for their freedoms and incomes in the middle of lockdowns and restrictions. But this blog remained in my mind and heart. I've not touched it for close to . . .
Rather than keeping the memorial's introduction and my eulogy behind lock and key, I want to share my Ama with the world. Ama, wherever you may be, I hope these words make you happy: Introduction Last Sunday, September 13th, we sisters reunited in fear and in courage to face one of our greatest fears—Ama, our beloved grandmother, passed away in her sleep three days after we discovered she was positive for COVID-19. It was a night each of us hoped and prayed would never happen—to witness a moment so crucial in our lives, yet not be by her side and hear her last words of advice, receive her final assurances, or feel the warmth of her skin before her soul took flight. This pandemic has pushed people to limits and heights no . . .
I've been afraid—afraid to sit down and face this blank space; afraid to write about the past three months; afraid of my incapability to talk about what's wedged deep within my heart. Each time I'm on this page of Diwa Daily, I divert to a written page on my journal, a tab on my browser, a notification on my phone, an email about 30% off for Black Friday—anything to make me forget about words. Perhaps I'm afraid of the weakness of my words, the possible phrases that would ensue from the quiet. It's my inner struggle, yet I feel her voice is calling me back. I feel she's been touching my shoulder and pulling me back to my desk this past week, maybe longer. Every time I do sit, I keep turning words like a Rubik's cube over and over . . .
I'm writing this after waking up from a 15-minute power nap. 💤 I started doing this recently to fight my unyielding tendency to wake up before sunrise, and not get enough sleep throughout the day. Since the pandemic hit the country and we've been staying home, the fam and I have been making significant changes to our lifestyle. 15-minute naps are just one of these little shifts and changes I'm making to make each day better and more productive. For June 2020's reflection, I'm looking back and sharing 10 lifestyle changes I made since our lives turned upside down at the beginning of the year: 01: Bought and used cloth masks Last March, J and I bought two N95 respiratory masks and a box of disposable surgical masks from a . . .
If you asked 18-year old me what my life would look like 12 years into the future, I'd probably describe something far from what it's like this very day. At one point, I told Jayson with utmost confidence that I'd have the time of my life the moment I turn 30 years old. I'd drink, smoke MJ, watch standup comedy, go on a road trip, sing karaoke all night, and eat as much cake as I wanted. Well, things didn't turn out the way I thought it would. Luckily, my birthday did start out with love and gratitude. ❤️ My sister-in-law baked me a homemade chocolate cake for breakfast, which explains why I smelled cake baking in the oven at 10:30 in the evening the night before. I never expected anything like this that I rushed upstairs to . . .
I remember my Posterous days when I'd do a monthly "reflections" post at the beginning of the new month. It was a favorite routine of mine where I'd summarize what happened to me the month before, what I intend to do next, and what people who may be interested can come to expect. With it being July 1st and all, this seems like a good time to do another Soul Story post where I'd relive the tradition. Battling anxiety, getting a grip on stress, and overcoming busy-ness You'll notice that the books in the stack above tackles creativity, wrangling information through doodling, finding inspiration, and living a long and happy life doing what you're deeply passionate about (and hopefully getting paid for it). I've been drawn to . . .
It is never too late to be what you might have been.George Eliot Three months have gone by in such a hurry. As soon as I got back from Japan, I was head down in work for two weeks before I was on another plane to the USA. Those three long weeks were some of the best I've had, with so many experiences that completely trumped my trip back in 2016. But I know this also meant I had left Diwa Daily to dry, to gather cobwebs once again and completely break the system I've set up for it. So, hi 👋, and I'm really sorry for not updating DD for the past three months. 🙏 My theme for 2019 One of the reasons why I started this blog was to be more in tune with myself, to embrace blogging as how I did it back in 2007-2008 with my . . .
Recalling those high school days when all that swirled in my head was the thrill and warmth of being loved, I always considered myself as one who'd love someone like waves crashing onto a beaten shore. I thought I was a person who loved with such unrelenting force, blinding myself to whatever mistakes or flaws a person had so long as they loved me back. It didn't matter that I was broken. It didn't matter that I didn't understand what it meant to love an equally imperfect person. So long as my own personal love meter was above average, I believe I could give love and all that came with the package. Fast forward to this hour of the day when everyone's asleep, I'm writing off that older, delusional version of myself. She's . . .