Pi Day and some meandering thoughts

I was so preoccupied with schoolwork yesterday that I didn't have time to post anything.

In fact, I almost forgot that it was one of my favorite days of the year -- 3.14 -- Pi Day!

"Pi in the Sky II" by Micajah Bienvenue

San Juan Island, WA

August 2015 

Spending most of the weekend as well as Monday working on our group's final project presentation for Monday night, I've pretty much been on "zombie mode" until today. Technically, I'm now done with the winter school term. In less than three months, I'll be done with the whole program. Time surely flies fast! I can't believe that I've been here this long. (In the photo above, I had just arrived from the Philippines!) 

Counting school days is such a strange way of measuring the passage of time. For many students, especially children, school breaks mean emancipation from a deluge of homework, projects and exams. School breaks usually mean freedom.

However, I have mixed feelings about this program ending soon. While the homework assignments take a huge chunk of my time, I could say that they have so far been the most effective way to learn to do things. I always look forward to coming to class because it is such a mentally stimulating environment. I especially admire our teachers who, on top of their regular day jobs, come to class each week fully prepared. These seasoned professionals have mastered their craft so well, and now we are learning from their knowledge and experience. I don't know where their energy comes from. 

Lee, our instructor in PR Writing, gave us this writing prompt on our final class meeting:

I think that I still have it in my heart to....

I had so many emotions and meandering thoughts going on that time, so I didn't feel like sharing with the class what I wrote in those five minutes or so. Now that I've regrouped, I'd like to share what I wrote.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I think I still have it in my heart to become an educator.

I remember promising to myself when I was a little kid that I will never become one. My parents are both teachers – my mother still teaches in our local elementary school and my father is a retired college math professor – and I've always known that their jobs didn't pay very well. They still did their work well, anyway. For them, what their students become is the measure of their own success.

I believe that going to school doesn't necessarily equate to getting an education. It takes hard work and competent teachers to make that happen. My parents have done so much for their students and their workplace beyond teaching, and they continue to do so to this day. They are definitely the reason I grew up with a deep love for learning. While I share their passion for making a positive difference through education and think that it is a worthwhile challenge to be in their role, I don't think the right time has come yet for me to act on this dream.

Someone once said that teachers are molders of dreams, because they spend so much time shaping young minds and preparing them for the future. I've always visualized this description as a potter spinning clay on a wheel. Expertly. Passionately. Lovingly. While clay has many qualities that make it so useful, it takes the most competent potter to shape it to its best form and purpose.

Right now, I'm a student. From time to time, I mentor someone. But someday, I think I'll try my hand at being a teacher. It may not be as cool as training padawans to become Jedi knights, but it will definitely be a life lived with purpose, as I've seen through my parents. 

Cheers to all teachers! To my father, the math professor, I hope you had a happy Pi Day!

A Family Reunion

(A short story in response to my writing group's prompt of the week, "miss it all.")
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a long, unscheduled power outage that night. There were no emergency lights, so the house was pitch black for a few minutes. Someone lit a candle and placed it at the center of the dinner table. The flame momentarily flickered as if it was going to die, but somehow managed to survive the wind’s little tickle.

It’s been hours since they’d finished eating, but no one had left the room. Still gathered around the dinner table, they could barely see the faces of those seated across them. They didn’t seem to mind. Ah, there wasn't a smidgen of doubt that it was going to be one of those long nights.

She stepped out for a few minutes to get her luggage from which she took a Scrabble board. The week before, they reminded her to bring one with her on that trip. There was unanimous cheering when they saw that she remembered. She gently placed it on the table, next to the candle.

The board was far from fancy. She was going to leave it with them so that they’d have something to use in that house when they visit. She owned a nice travel version where the tiles remained in place even if you turned the board upside down, but they didn’t like that one. They found it rather inconvenient – “The tiles are too small!” “The racks are too unwieldy!” “It’s too much work to remove the tiles!” – yet no one complained about the tiles always being in disarray when they played on a big cardboard version, the same kind that she brought with her this time.

Somewhere in the dark, someone produced a yellow piece of paper and a red ballpoint pen. And so began their battle of words. Not very long into the game, one of them played holster for 76 points. Another immediately added soldier for 81. She was just as skilled at Scrabble as them, but it seemed to her that everyone was playing the best game of their lives. She remembered what their friends would usually say while watching them play: “They play for blood!” “Blood in the water! The Scrabble sharks are out!” “They’ll crush your ego to smithereens.”

“Indeed,” she thought. Dreadingly awaiting her turn, she fiddled with her tiles and began singing a song from Sondheim’s Into the Woods: “Agony!/ Beyond power of speech/ When the one thing you want/ Is the only thing out of your reach…/ Agony! Oh the torture they teach....”

They laughed. The song was quite apropos – there were no more tiles in the bag to draw, and her remaining tiles were mostly vowels. They were already talking about playing another round. “Bloodhounds!” she retorted. The victors snickered in response.

“You’ll miss it all,” one of them tenderly replied. She knew it was going to be a while before she could play Scrabble with her siblings again.

Almost a year had passed. She glanced at the calendar, then the flight itinerary in her inbox. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Time to practice.

Celebrating Spring and the Joy of Friendship

Spring has sprung in Seattle!

The other day, my husband made my day by surprising me with tulips when he came home from work. While he often does the sweetest things like this for me "just because," this gesture was for a particular occasion: it was Mărțișor [mərt͡siˈʃor], the Romanian celebration on March 1 to mark the beginning of spring.

Beautiful tulips to mark the start of spring

Before he left for work that morning, I helped him choose some items to give as gifts from a small box he had at home. They were small trinkets attached to bows made of silky red-and-white threads. These are said to symbolize friendship, love, appreciation and respect, and it is customary for men to give them to female family members, friends and colleagues on Mărțișor.

Late in the evening, our Romanian friends, Oana and Florin, delivered their gifts: lovely accessories they made and a daffodil from their garden. 

Our other Romanian friends also gave me some mărțișor trinkets: a traditional one from Radu and Sandra (who are also our nași or godparents) and a modern one from  Ionuț and Irina.

Left: Snowdrop as a symbol of spring
Right: Horse shoe and four-leaf clover - a traditional mărțișor

Ahoy, anchor trinket + 1928 fashion!
I love the Art Deco postcard it came with.

I couldn't help but be amazed by this tradition. We definitely didn't have such a celebration in the Philippines. My motherland of eternal sunshine (and the occasional torrential rain) doesn't have four seasons; I grew up seeing the same flowers and trees bloom and grow all year. I realized that this is actually my first time to experience all four seasons in a row, and this is my very first spring!

Just add water

Upon our return to Washington this January after spending most of winter in Romania, our friends Sonia and Razvan informed us that, sadly, the plant we asked them to take care of for us didn't survive. We didn't mind, of course! Our plant had a higher chance of surviving when left with them than left behind at home while we were on vacation. All the same, they returned our pot filled with soil, told us they had a surprise in it for us and instructed us, "just water it everyday."

Two weeks had passed, and my husband and I totally forgot all about the "surprise" sitting on our patio until the same couple asked us about it. I immediately started watering it. A month later, we enjoyed the beauty and fragrance of two hyacinth flowers!

It was a wonderful experience to witness these flowers grow, and it was also quite a treat to see them bloom exactly on my birthday! When I have my own garden, I'll definitely continue planting hyacinths in springtime.

Our hyacinths' journey

Running outside – rain or shine!

Moving from the tropics to a temperate country meant that spending time outdoors is – and will always be – quite cold for me. Nevertheless, I started running with my new friends, Pilar and Melanee, every weekend. Aside from being able to spend time together outside of school and pave our path to fitness, we are also often rewarded with the sight of beautiful blooms along the various trails we take.

 Glorious daffodils and the perfect running weather around Greenlake Park.

(Yes, Seattle! More of this, please!)

Cherry  trees in bloom around  Lake Union

Crocuses near the end of a 5-mile run at the Seattle Arboretum

It's been almost seven months since I moved here. I sometimes find myself a little achy to see my family and friends back home. Still, my heart remains grateful to feel so much love from family and friends here.

As I reflect on Mărțișor, the well-wishes of health and prosperity and the meaning of those trinkets, I bow my head and say a prayer of thanks for the beauty of new beginnings, life, love and friendship.

Sa ai o primavara frumoasa!

Isang magandang tagsibol!

Have a beautiful spring!

Opening the Paper Door

I wrote this for my PR Writing (Storytelling for Results) class in the University of Washington. Our assignment was to pick our favorite organization and write a short story (~250 words). We were given five types of stories to choose from. I decided on writing a story about how a company was founded. The goal of the exercise was to "vividly bring the company to life to potential customers, donors and/or opinion leaders."

I really enjoyed writing this piece because it's about Toyota, a company driven by innovation, rooted on its founding principles.

When I was in college, Toyota was my dream company. I could say that my affinity towards the company spawned from working on case studies about Toyota and going on a plant tour inside Toyota's manufacturing plant. It was love at first sight!

It was indeed a dream come true when, after graduating with a bachelor's degree in business administration, I got a call from Toyota's hiring professional. Shortly after, I joined the company as a Sales Planner in the Marketing Division. I moved to the Public Relations team in the Corporate Affairs Group after three years. I worked in the company for a total of 9 years and 11 months.

To this day, Toyota -- a company built on the pillars of Continuous Improvement and Respect for People -- remains as a company I truly admire.

Opening the Paper Door

Sakichi Toyoda, like his father, was a carpenter. At the same time, he had a propensity for invention.

Due to the poverty in their village in Japan, his mother wove cloth by hand to supplement their family income. One night, while observing his mother weave without results to show for her long hours of work, the idea of improving the hand loom struck him. He soon began working on his project.

Sakichi successfully completed and attained a patent for his design. Still, what he really wanted was to invent a power loom, he continued making improvements. Based on his patented device, he invented Japan's first self-powered loom and established the Toyoda Loom Company. However, a major economic downturn eventually forced him to resign from his own company.

Sakichi then traveled abroad to study the textile industry. Upon his return, he opened Toyoda Cotton Spinning and Weaving Company with more than 1,000 employees. When his decision to expand to China was questioned, he replied, "Open the paper door. The world is wide out there."

Together with his son, Kiichiro, Sakichi invented a fully automatic loom and established Toyoda Automatic Loom Works. Impressed with automobiles during his trip to the United States and Europe, he told Kiichiro, “The coming world needs cars. You must work on its development.”  Consequently, an automotive production division was established within the company. While not officially a part of the company’s organization, the team researched, studied and developed vehicle prototypes under Kiichiro's leadership. This spawned Toyota Motor Corporation, one of the largest automotive manufacturers in the world today.

By venturing in vehicle production, the Toyodas had broken through another paper door.

# # #

Advice from my Phone

Searching for ways to practice writing creatively, I asked my friends to suggest topics to write about. In the next few days, I will post my work here.

Mike Lopez posted the question, "If it could speak, what advice on life would your phone give you?"

Here's my output.

Dear Lorie,

Can you believe you’re turning 32 in 10 days? Exciting, isn’t it?!

On your birthday, thank your parents -- it’s their day, too. Thank each person who greeted you, no matter how many messages you get. Remember your loved ones who are no longer there to do so. Be thankful for the privilege of having them in your life, no matter how long you’ve known them.

Be thankful for the life that you continue to live. Remember that life itself is a gift.


Don't worry so much about your age. Remember, being young or old depends on whom you are with at a certain moment. Focus on growing up, not growing old. Learn the art of aging gracefully. I’m sure it involves laughter.

Laugh. Even if it means laughing at yourself or by yourself. If you run out out of jokes, tell Cortana “Make me laugh.” Remember her silkworm joke.

Still funny, right?

Don’t forget that you have “Joy” in your name. Live by it. Be joyful!

Exercise. Remember what a friend told you yesterday – it’s not a workout; it’s a way of life. Be thankful for your body and how it allows you to do so many things. Take good care of it.

Be thankful for the seasons. Remember that both sunshine and rain help living things around you grow. Think of the experiences you go through in this perspective. Your life’s seasons could teach you a thing or two.

Don’t let people intimidate you. They know themselves a lot more than you do. That includes dirty laundry…and, I guess, going to the bathroom.


Never question your worth. Never question another person’s worth. Respect is timeless. So are “please” and “thank you”.

Do not stop reading. Let your imagination take you as far as it can. Indulge in those adventures! Appreciate your vicarious experiences. Learn how a mystery was solved. Those problem solving skills will come handy one day. Heed the moral of the story. If it’s not told explicitly and you don’t find it, read the book again someday. Books seem to have a way of growing as we do.


When your friends give you books, ask them to write a message for you, including the date, on one of the pages. Someday you’ll find those notes just when you need a little push or a reason to smile. Keep those books, no matter what.

Be thankful for writers. Pratchett made you laugh. Rand challenged you. Gaiman made you dream. Chabon made you laugh and cry at the same time. Sedaris made you see the extraordinary in the mundane. It’s not an easy job.

Keep taking photos. If something extraordinary happens to you, write it down. Your memory may someday fail you, but your notes and photographs will be your loyal witnesses.

Last but not least, no matter what you end up doing in the next few years, do NOT make juggling a profession. Remember how many times you’ve almost fatally dropped me on your floor. Technology will go obsolete (faster than people age, too) but I will be the only phone to dispense advice to you. Hold on tight.

Your Microsoft Phone