New Home

I've been writing since I was 7 or 8, a time when the only correspondence that this world had were letters and phone calls. Yes - no emails, chat, video calls.

Phone calls then were expensive. So, my father (who was an overseas Filipino worker, a seaman specifically) wrote to us. That's the only way he could get "in touch" with his three daughters, who looked forward to receiving letters from a man whom we only knew through his writings then.

Looking back, I am forever grateful that he painstakingly took the time to write each of us. I learned the value of words memorialized, of emotions and feelings seen through the flow and blots of ink, and of hearts sealed in envelopes.

I used to have a home in cyberspace but it has slowly turned into a "marketplace" (if you're into social networking sites, you know what site I'm referring to - hee). So I'm transferring to a new home, where I can share my love in words the way my Tatay did it.

And this first blog is, of course, dedicated to my first writing teacher: my Tatay.

Letter-writers, journalists, diary-keepers, lexicologists, etymologists, you wordsmith - come on, come all. :)