i spent the whole day obsessing about trivial things.

on the other side of the world, in a place i call home, people were obsessing, too -- worrying, fretting, analyzing, questioning and mourning, because a plane crashed on the way to davao, philippines, killing 130 people. grandparents, mothers, fathers, daughters, sons. dead. instantly. lives. over. and what will they do for easter sunday now that they can't go to lolo and lola's house? and who will give maria away at her wedding since tito joey is gone? and will bobby ever forgive himself for not proposing to the love of his life, because he will never again see her bright and shining eyes?

and maybe i know one of those who died. or maybe my mom does. or maybe my mom's mom does. it's a small world, and a smaller philippines. maybe i passed one of them, walking down the crowded, smoggy streets. maybe one served me at a restaurant or sold me a CD at the store. maybe one smiled at me, once. i can fill the page with maybes.

but it doesn't matter, because they're gone, and i'm still here. i'm alive.

and suddenly my problems seem like blessings.