Home » Young Blood
You are browsing entries tagged with “Young Blood”
By Ma. Karmela Talusan
6:30 a.m. My alarm goes off. I fight the urge to go back to sleep and get up, as quietly as possible, so as not to wake my roommates. I stretch a bit, climb down from the double-deck bed, and extend my right foot to search for my slippers on the floor. Aha. Found them. I walk over to where our food is stacked and rustle up my sachet of coffee, chocolate spread, bread, and vitamins. I turn the doorknob slowly. Squeak. I look behind me and see that they are still asleep. I put my stuff down on the table and go lose a penny. I fix my coffee and spread some chocolate on my bread. I take a few sips and feel the caffeine doing what it does best: wake me up. The clock says 6:50.
By Mr. Rapid Eye Monday
It was exactly a week before my 21st birthday when I found out that I’m never going to be able to leave my parents’ house, get an apartment in Manila and work for a Fortune 100 company, or visit the Grand Canyon in the United States, or have kids of my own, or get health [...]
By Cecilia Ejercito
I’m sure I won’t remember their faces, nor will they remember mine. Never more than an hour together, never any face time, never much conversation. My hands were only on the wheel, eyes only on the road. Our interaction was limited to me opening my car, popping the trunk, and getting them to their destination. A few directions given here and there, and some small talk about the distance I was driving—nothing more.
By Mari Colinares
When my brothers and I were young, we called this house the “Other House.” As a child, I walked with dad and measured its distance from our own house and concluded that it was merely 100 steps away. It was nice having my grandparents so near us; it was nice going over there to play by the beach.
By Jesus L. Dawal Jr.
This is not a piece for the suffering Visayan people; it will take long before their power supply is restored. This isn’t meant to criticize the government for its sluggish operation; I doubt this will reach its officials’ eyes and ears, or help in any way. Neither is this for those who are so quick to insult the government; they probably have contributed far more than I, and to pick on them would be very hypocritical and heartless of me.
By Patrick Alcantara
If our Facebook news feeds are of any indication, it is an understatement that Filipinos are considerably concerned about Supertyphoon “Yolanda” and reports of its aftermath.
By Jaifred Christian F. Lopez
It was the start of a legend, one that speaks of how 72 newly minted doctors, initially apprehensive to carry out a campaign for better health in the countryside, eventually became its staunch crusaders. It is a legend that speaks of how a common experience of serving as rural health physicians turned these medical graduates into forces to be reckoned with.
By Anne Brigitte U. Lim
As I check 250 English-exam papers across five sections of third-graders, I reflect upon the students’ test scores and my experience as a public school teacher. It still puzzles me why a lot of the students prioritize coming to school only on test days. I wonder why they bother taking a test which they are not ready for. They probably just prayed for a miracle to happen to help them pass.
By Mark Jerson Pulohanan
I was eight years old when I had my first bout with asthma. I can’t recall anymore exactly how I got through it, but I still remember waking up in the middle of the night breathless, gasping for air, as if the surrounding darkness were swallowing me up. At first I feared that some bad spirits were after me. When I couldn’t bear it anymore, I complained to my grandmother (may her soul rest in peace!).
I wonder why some people are good at doing things, why they are so confident, efficient, effective, and competitive. I envy them. I want to trust myself more, that I can do what others can and achieve milestones as well.
By Erica Jean L. Palmera
Many girls wait to find Mr. Right, even until they are old and gray. I didn’t have to wait long. When I was 13 and a high school sophomore, I was promised forever—and I believed.
By Charmaine Louise Escalante
I first met Love in my sixth-grade home room. There were 30 other people there at that moment, but Love is the only one I can remember. The sight of him made my stomach clench, my mouth dry, and my heart tremble in my rib cage, like I had a terrible case of gas. So daily, I spelled out his name at the back of my notebook, many times over, like a prayer to a god, like a mantra you keep saying until it calms you down, until you forget your own name because you are so full of his.