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By Maria Nicole Cortez
A typical day in my life operates under a timetable and a routine. It’s monotonous, vapid. And yet, somewhere in the middle of it, I realize that is exactly what makes it beautiful.
By Ven Paolo B. Valenzuela
Having studied at the University of the Philippines (UP) does not mean that I am automatically forced to work for the development sector. The university culture may have demanded that I help the country in its development efforts, but it is my personal choice to let UP ideals persuade me into pursuing a career that directly impacts policy.
By Dara Bascara
The speech of Lupita Nyong’o at the Oscars moved the entire audience and the rest of us on the planet who have access to TV and the Internet. The video went viral overnight.
By Cyndy Sol G. Rodrigo
There is an urban legend in the University of the Philippines that if you have a picture taken with Oble (the Oblation), you will not graduate on time.
By Dominic Dayta
I call her “Memory” because that’s all she is now: dead, buried, decaying, almost forgotten. I can barely recall her surname. But I remember the last words she said to me and how she looked on the last day of the only summer she existed in my universe.
By Josemaria A. Bassig
Nothing can prepare the uninitiated for Manila’s public transport system. Day in and day out, millions of people crowding this haphazardly planned metropolis cram themselves inside jeepneys, buses and trains, enduring a daily defiance of science’s “matter cannot occupy space at the same time and place.”
By Frances Lipnica Pabilane
My name is Frances. I’ve never been to France. As an undergraduate I took up European studies. I’ve never been to Europe. I was moved by “A Moveable Feast,” a book by Ernest Hemingway. It was first mentioned by lawyer Ruben Balane during our class in succession. With my inclination to reading novels and the fact that it was about and by Hemingway, mostly set in France, I decided to read it. The travel and life stories inspired me and reminded me of my dream to someday have my own cliché photographs while posing outside the Louvre or touring Paris on a bicycle.
By Katrina G. Lucena
Before I know it I will be among the millions upon millions of graduates of schoolyear 2013-2014. My mother can breathe a sigh of relief, as her youngest child scrambles atop a stage, shakes hands with the college president, and awkwardly walks back down clutching a thin scroll of paper for which she paid roughly P64,000 over the last four years.
By Nalaine Briones
A great friend once advised me never to start a speech with an apology—a golden rule which, she said, should also be followed strictly in letter-writing. It was a rule so easy to follow; I rarely, if ever, said sorry for my mistakes, much less wrote about them. Until now.
By Jeremiah Paul Silvestre
I come home from the office after a hard day’s work. I long for the comfort of my bed, the breeze produced by the electric fan, stories courtesy of television, my brothers’ company, and dinner with my parents. I consider our home my safe zone from all the harsh realities of the battlefield of a young professional, a place where I can be my mere self.
By Haly Idiesca Obar
It breezes in as you forget about the fortress walls that keep you fenced within the safe zone. It’s so powerful that it propels you to brave the seven seas right then and there. It’s so sly that it impels you to ride the waves without the slightest idea of getting off the board when balance is lost.
By Ayn Torres
To this day I can vividly recall the first time I wrote myself a letter: in 2010, on the day I celebrated my second anniversary in my previous job.