Write your own headlines

“Sometimes I just want it to stop. Talk of COVID, looting, brutality. I lose my way. I become convinced that this “new normal” is real life. Then I meet an 87-year-old who talks of living through polio, diphtheria, Vietnam protest and yet is still enchanted with life.

He seemed surprised when I said that 2020 must be especially challenging for him. “no,” he said slowly, looking me straight in the eyes. “I learned a long time ago to not see the world through the printed headlines, I see the world through the people that surround me- I see the world with the realization that we love big. Therefore, I just choose to write my own headlines:

“Husband loves wife today.” “Family drops everything to come to Grandma’s bedside.” He patted my hand. “Old man makes new friend.” His words collided with my worries, freeing them from the tether I had been holding tight. They float away. I am left with a renewed spirit and a new way to write my own headlines.”

by Andy Stanley

Pinning Board v.13

#1: We find what we look for

What you do determines what kind of attention you pay to the world. What kind of attention you pay to the world determines what you find in it.

#2: The Seatbelt Rule for Judgment

“My willingness to judge something should be proportional to how much I know about it.” -Danny Guo

#3: To have in hand…

#4: To have in hand (Part II)


An Interview with Nicole Chung — Paper Darts
Illustration by Annie Dills

#1: I Have Notes by Nicole Chung

The Atlantic has recently begun a series of newsletters (I know, at this point there are more newsletters roaming the internet than readers!), but I have enjoyed this one so far. It is short and sweet, as most things in life should be.

I just love this phrase in her last newsletter, because her words made me feel the very feeling she is describing: “One reason we read is to know that burst of recognition when someone supplies new language for that which we once found indescribable.

#2: Empty Pews Are an American Public Health Crisis

Even though is a Christian Magazine, and one could argue is inherently biased on where it stands on certain issues, I still found the article interesting. It’s been two years since I’ve stepped on a church (#COVID). However, I feel that I am becoming more spiritual than religious. Yet (Therefore?) the main premise of the article hit close to home:

“People find their social and personal lives improved—sometimes their lives are even physically saved—when they go to church often. [..] A religious upbringing profoundly affects lifelong health and well-being. We found regular service attendance helps shield children from the “big three” dangers of adolescence: depression, substance abuse, and premature sexual activity. People who attended church as children are also more likely to grow up happy, to be forgiving, to have a sense of mission and purpose, and to volunteer.”

And I wonder… has my life really been missing out on those Sundays at church? Maybe I need to reexamine my posture on church attendance. And while I consider this, I too remember those Sunday mornings in the Paloma Lake ward, and feelings of estrangement wash over me and overwhelm me . And I am reminded, as a consequence, never to settle with acceptance but to strive for inclusiveness wherever I may be so no one has to feel the way I felt back then.

Who knows? Maybe church attendance effect on one’s health is only true if there’s a sincere sense of belonging and community. Much to my parents dismay I am still going to pass on church services for now.

#3: Maybe we should try this on Republicans?

#4: Many years after, I am still processing this

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath.


#1: The Art of Not Taking Things Personally

‘Emotional generosity’ is the ability to see past behaviours that we don’t understand and proactively look for compassionate ways to explain them.

#2: 90 seconds to emotional resilience

According to Harvard brain scientist Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor, ninety seconds is all it takes to identify an emotion and allow it to dissipate while you simply notice it. When you’re stressed, pausing ninety seconds and labeling what you’re feeling (eg., I’m getting angry), tamps down activity in the amygdala. MRI studies of the brain show that this “emotion labeling” calms the brain region involved in angry outbursts and helps you regain control. Dr. Bolte explains.

#3: When You Give a Tree An Email Address

The city of Melbourne assigned trees email addresses so citizens could report problems. Instead, people wrote thousands of love letters to their favorite trees.

This one hit close to home, mainly because I do have a tree I could write a love letter to. I used to call him The Life Tree (El Árbol de la Vida). I would pass it by daily on may way to and back from campus. It used to be a reminder to me that life changes, and so we adapt, we change, we shed, we are born over and over again.


#1: All That We Share

I mean this when I say that it has been a while since I teared up with a video. When you really think about it, we are all part of each other’s story.

“It’s easy to mind your own business. It takes a little more effort to mind the community. But doesn’t the feeling of having something in common, something that connect us, make it all worthwhile?”

#2: The Great Resignation

I quit my job last week so needless to say, this article resonated with me on a deeper level. What I find interesting, is that many important newspapers are writing about it, about the fact that workers are recognizing and, most importantly, doing something to improve their working conditions (or lack thereof).

There’s also this one: “this level of quitting is really an expression of optimism that says, We can do better.”

#3: “I vowed never to have a house bigger than I could clean myself.”

I too have considered this. When I was a teenager I used to dream of having a big house, one that would have many rooms, many features, many amenities.

It wasn’t until college that something in me changed. I no longer wished for a big house, I wanted a home. I wanted a small space that was filled with things all the people and things I love. A small kitchen that would be too cluttered, but also too crowded. A cozy living room whose couches would be too worn out, but also too full of stories. A tiny bedroom, that would be feel too small but never too lonely.

#4: Comments on Kindness

Restoring my faith in humanity: “We were taking our toddler daughters on a long flight. Shuttling the kids through baggage check and security, I forgot to buy milk. The airline didn’t serve milk on board, and my husband wondered if we could get by with coffee creamers (gotta love that fatherly ingenuity!). Finally, as we were sitting down (and my oldest was biting my arm for no obvious reason besides toddlerhood), the flight attendant came back with a pint of milk. ‘The captain got it for you,’ she said. Reader, I squeaked out a ‘thank you’ and immediately started crying. It was a small reminder when I needed it that we’re not islands, that the world is kind, that parenting is for all of us.

#5: The Kinder Side of The Squid Game

“No one who survives does so on their own, but because of the sacrifices of others.”


*via The Atlantic

#1: Your Professional Decline Is Coming (Much) Sooner Than You Think

“A few researchers have looked at this cohort to understand what drives their unhappiness. It is, in a word, irrelevance.” 

#2: Solitude by Anne Cross

I love.
Alone, I still love,
Even when I am alone, I love.
In company, I am more than whole,
I am solitude by choice, and I am whole.

#3: El Lazo Fuerte by Juana de Ibarbourou

Crecí para tí
Florí para tí
Fluí para tí
Alas dí por tí.


Series: crítica de "Las cosas por limpiar", de Molly Smith Metzler (Netflix)  - Micropsia
“She has the luxury of time.”

#1: Intertwined

“My PIN number to this day is my second grade best friends birthday. There are people I don’t talk to anymore whose families are still in my prayers. There are shirts I wear to bed from exes of 8 years ago who are married now with kids. And I haven’t found a macaroni salad recipe better than my college boyfriend’s moms’. Our lives are made up of so many people and when people become parts of our lives, some parts remain long after they leave. And in the same exact way, it’s comforting to know there are so many lives you’re still a part of that you have no idea about.”

#2: Hey, Pretty Shining People

Why, why, what a terrible time to be alive if you’re prone to overthinking

Why, why, what a terrible time to be alive if you’re prone to second-guessing

#3: My mommy told me not to

The note is cute and down right admirable, especially because of the maturity exuded from a 6yo. But I confess I am also here for the comments… “When the 6 yo gets it but the republicans don’t.” 😂

#4: The conundrum between being special and being happy

[…] most people never feel “successful enough.” The high only lasts a day or two, and then it’s on to the next goal. Psychologists call this the hedonic treadmill, in which satisfaction wears off almost immediately and we must run on to the next reward to avoid the feeling of falling behind. 

Intimacy of

Intimacy of crying in front of you.

Intimacy of singing (badly) at the top of my lungs while road tripping.

Intimacy of driving with you in the car, exposing my subjectively bad driving skills.

Intimacy of sharing meals and letting you see me eat freely, no pretense.

Intimacy of letting you know the foods I do not eat.

Intimacy of discussing a book together.

Intimacy of letting you know what my favorite movies are, no matter how childish.

Intimacy of letting you see my camera roll.

Intimacy of letting you hear the most-played songs on my Spotify account.

Intimacy of letting you see me sleep.

Intimacy of having you over in my house, of seeing the inside of my bathroom, of seeing my messy kitchen.

Intimacy of the unladylike laughs that resemble snoring more than anything else.

Intimacy of talking about our views of money.

Intimacy of recognizing your handwriting.

Intimacy of cooking for you.

Intimacy of talking about our childhoods.

Intimacy of doing grocery shopping together.


…funny how intimacy has been reduced to sex, when clearly there’s so much more that makes us tingle, that sends shivers through our spine, that weakens our legs.


Galletas con pepitas de chocolate (Classic chocolate chip cookies) - Anna  Olson - Receta - Canal Cocina

#1: The Best Workday is Sunday

Get a little done on Sunday, have a little fun on Friday. Write an email on Sunday, watch a YouTube video on Thursday.

#2: A Note To My Remaining Students

#3: “Your chocolate chip cookies are better than you mother’s.”

After twelve years of marriage, seventeen years together, my husband says to me, “Your chocolate chip cookies are better than you mother’s.” It’s an otherwise standard evening: we’re in the kitchen after dinner, I’m at the sink rinsing dough from the bowl of the stnad mixer, he’s about to collect our four-year-old for his bath.

To understand the gravity of his pronouncement is to know that my mother is in fact famous for her chocolate chip cookies–famous, at least, in a certain set that includes my father, their various neighbors, plumbers who need extra motivation to finish a project, every friend of my youth, my own son. She bakes them to make the house smell good when my sister is coming to visit or when a realtor is coming through with prospective buyers. She wields them as if they possess a kind of supernatural healing power, an ability to relieve back surgery pain or the fallout of childbirth or broken-heartedness.

Case in point: At eighteen, a freshman in college, I went to Philadelphia to visit friends. They introduced me around the gathering of new acquaintances in their form common room, and while I didn’t expect these people to say, “oh, yes, hello, we’ve heard so much about you,” I also didn’t expect it when they actually said, “oh, yes, hello, we’ve heard so much about your mother–the one with the cookies.”

The truth is, I bake chocolate chip cookies from the same recipe as my mother; the one on the back of the Nestle Tollhouse bag, with only slight modifications. And yet, my mother’s are on another plane: fluffier, richer, more substantial. It seems not a coincidence, then, that the only person ever to insist that mine are superior to hers is the person I married.

He is flush with boyishness now, sneaking another cookie. “Objectively better,” he says, before walking out of the kitchen to get our kid in the bath.

These are the thins that aren’t marriage exactly–aren’t part of the big agreement we made when we got married, aren’t any of the millions of small negotiations and commitments we continue to make as we stay married. They are something else, some kind of supportive tissue, as if the marriage is the primitive, rudimentary joint of bone to bone, and then these moments are the tendons, lithe fibers, holding it all together, allowing it all to move. — by Kelsey Motes-Conners