This is what's been going on with me:

On Sunday, Roger Federer defeated Great Britain's Andy Murray in straight sets 6-3 6-4 7-6(13-11) to win his 16th grand slam. Murray stepped it up in the third set and started pounding winners on the lines. Federer responded with solid service games and his own sharp angled balls. I may have choked a poor pillow to death while watching that third-set tiebreaker.

(Source)

On Monday, Jake and I traveled home to Baguio from Manila while Pa went back to Ifugao for work. A seven-hour time difference separates us from our mother. Everyone likes to talk about how awesome it is to travel. And it is. I've never felt more in tune with myself than when I am on a bus or some other form of long distance transportation. There is boundless joy in the smell of a new place, the freedom of anonymity, and the kindness of strangers.

On the other hand, there is rarely ever any mention of the missing and the being without.

I feel as if I'm in one of those pivotal life moments where I'm supposed to make a decision.