The death of a loved one is almost the death of you. It’s been more than a month since we lost our sister, our precious Ate Katrina, who was only 29, to a viral disease that started out as dengue and ended in a complex heart condition that baffled even the doctors attending to her.
The heady postelection days are always a festival of finger-pointing. With the names and faces of those who will claim 12 of the highest positions in the land now clear, social networks are going on overdrive, seeking to give an explanation for the fact that our elected officials are usually religious leaders, actors, and the scions or allies of powerful political families. We, the netizens of Facebook and Twitter, pride ourselves in being well-informed and quick to confirm news of vote-buying, past crimes and qualifications—so why is it that we still see the same surnames in the Magic 12?
Perhaps there is nothing stronger than the ideas of hope and change. In 2008, Barack Obama ran on a platform of hope and won the US presidency. It was the promise of change that helped elect President Aquino three years ago. And again, change was what people looked for in the May 13 elections.
I’d like to know how to find the path back to my innocence. I want to go back to the time when neither right nor wrong existed, no prejudice or cynicism, and basically no rules on how to live life.
When I’m asked how many siblings I have, I normally respond like this: “I have two—my sister and my brother. We’re all firstborns.”
It was a humid October afternoon when my sister and I went to register at the Commission on Elections. That was the week before the last day of voter registration. The queue was not as lengthy as we expected, but there were already about 300 people there. The size of the crowd grew quickly as [...]
It was a nightmare for all of us. Everything happened so fast that our minds were filled with jumbled thoughts, deep regret, instant concern, and finally, overwhelming sadness. It happened last March 1—a day that I will forever remember as one of the most heartbreaking days of my life. On that day, seven of our students met an accident in Nalapaan, Pikit, North Cotabato. Of the seven, only three survived.
There were three of us, all men, and it was getting dark. Sand was clinging to our clothes and the rain pelted us with drops of water so huge they stung. We had walked a long way, and we underestimated the time it took to get from one end of the beach to the other. There was no public transportation around, and to be able to return to our hotel we had to walk quite the distance.
I was born in Manila, went to college there, and studied law there. I am now making a living there as well. I thought that I had conquered the city and that I had nothing to fear as I am a true-blue Manila girl… up until that day.
One of the most depressing situations a woman of a certain age can ever find herself in is standing next to her 20-year-old aerobics instructor with a wrinkle-free cheerleader face. As the woman tries desperately to keep up with the perky bounce of the instructor, she’ll see that she is also jiggling—but in different parts. Feeling annoyed, she’ll decide to take the easier and less depressing route: Belo.
“A love that is not true will lust, a love that is true will last.” That’s a quote I heard in a Christian gathering I attended last Valentine’s Day. It was the first time that I attended a Church-related event where young people are taught how to deal with the offers of the flesh. I [...]
When I first entered the University of the Philippines, the cost per unit was P300. So if I had to take 18 units, my tuition, along with other fees, would amount to almost P6,000. My biological parents weren’t there to pay my tuition. It was my grandmother who stretched her salary, borrowed loans from sharks, [...]
